#i hope y'all like this and have a look at the original one behind the link (her stuff is amazing)

[er1nne]

fix this

⸝⸝⸝ ⑅ —໒ྀི ִֶָ rafe’s impulsive actions and failed attempt to fix things with a ignite a heated argument, leaving you feeling unseen and misunderstood.

word count 1.7k

warnings : yelling & arguments so angst but ends on a good note / fluff

AN: the problem is left ambiguous & left to the imagination so you can make up the problem, you guys loved the last one lol :) i have plenty more in the vault so let me know if y'all want them. enjoy!

(please do not copy or plagiarize, this is my original work subject to copyright)

Rafe knows he’s in deep shit. He can tell he’s in deep shit. And he barely knows how he got here...nope he totally know how he got here.

The weight of it presses on his chest like a cinder block, a suffocating reminder of the mess he’s made. It’s the first thing he feels when he hears your footsteps stomping up the stairs on to the porch. The tightness in his stomach churns, and his hands instinctively find the edge of the counter, gripping it hard enough that his knuckles pale.

He rubs his hand over his jaw, rough and restless, staring at the front door like it might swallow him whole. It doesn’t. The door swings open, and there you are—eyes already blazing with fury, every bit of it directed at him.

You slam the door behind you with a force that makes him flinch. The sharp crack of wood echoes in the silence before you speak.

“I can’t believe you, Rafe!” you snap, your voice trembling, sharp enough to cut. “Do you ever think? Like, at all?”

The way you look at him—like he’s the worst kind of idiot—makes him stiffen, though he leans back against the counter, trying to feign some level of calm. It doesn’t work. He hates that look, not just from you but from anybody.

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” he says, shrugging in what he hopes comes off as nonchalant. But his voice falters just slightly, betraying him. He knows it’s the wrong thing to say, even as the words leave his mouth. Way to put a foot in your mouth.

“Oh, my God.” You throw your hands up, your movements jerky, overwhelmed. “You didn’t think it was that big of a deal? Of course, you didn’t. You never think!”

The accusation hangs heavy in the air, sharp and piercing. He runs a hand through his hair, yanking at the strands in frustration. There you go again. Can't you tell he's sorry. Why'd you have to go there of all places. Why’d you have to say it like that? “Alright, just—calm down for a second,” he says, his tone already edging into defensive territory. “You’re making it sound worse than it is.”

“Calm down?” you repeat, and there’s a bitter edge to your voice that makes his stomach twist. “You think I’m overreacting?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” he fires back, the words snapping out of him before he can stop them. His shoulders are tense, his movements jerky as he gestures vaguely between the two of you. “I’m saying I didn’t mean for it to be—whatever this is.”

You scoff, shaking your head as if the audacity of his explanation is too much to comprehend. “Unbelievable. You don’t even get it, do you? You don’t care how this makes me feel. You just do whatever you want, and I’m supposed to just—deal with it?”

“That’s not fair,” he says through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching as he pushes off the counter. “I didn’t do this to hurt you.”

“But you didn’t care enough to stop and think about me, either,” you shoot back, your voice rising with each word. “Do you have any idea how that feels? To know that I don’t even cross your mind when you make these dumb, impulsive decisions?”

The words hit him hard, like a gut punch he didn’t see coming. He exhales sharply, his frustration boiling over. He paces a few steps, his hands restless, like he’s trying to find an outlet for the tension coiling in his chest.

“Look, I—I’m trying, alright?” he says, his voice rough and strained. “I know I screwed up. That’s why I got you this.”

He gestures toward the counter, where an expensive box sits, perfectly wrapped with a crisp bow. It’s something he picked up earlier, certain it would fix everything. Now, standing here under your fiery gaze, it feels like a monument to his failure.

Your eyes flick to the box, then back to him, your expression darkening. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“What?” he says, his voice rising with confusion and a touch of defensiveness. He throws his arms out, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I was trying to—”

“It’s not about the damn gift, Rafe!” you yell, your voice cracking slightly under the weight of your emotions. “This isn’t something you can fix with money. Do you think I’m that shallow? You think you can throw a couple of thousands at me and it'll make my feelings go away?”

Your breath stutters for a moment before continuing, “Do you think I’m like all the other girls you’ve bought? You can’t do that with me. You can’t just throw money at this and expect it to go away. You have to be a person—a human—with me.”

He flinches, the words cutting deeper than he cares to admit. “No, that’s not—I’m just trying to fix it, okay?” His voice rises in desperation now. “I don’t know what else you want from me!”

“I want you to feel something!” you snap, the tremor in your voice betraying the raw hurt beneath your anger. “I want you to stop throwing money at everything and actually care about how I feel. But I guess that’s asking too much.”

The accusation lands like a blow, and he’s left staring at you, at the tears brimming in your eyes. The anger drains from his face, leaving something raw and uncertain in its place.

“I do care,” he says quietly, his voice rough and uneven. “I just—I don’t know how to… do this.” His hands move in an awkward, aimless gesture, like the words he needs are somewhere just out of reach. His voice is low, almost a whisper. It’s the kind of vulnerability he doesn’t like showing—doesn’t know how to. But he can’t bring himself to look away from you as he peers at you with those icy eyes.

You scoff, shaking your head again, but you don’t storm out. He notices this, clings to it like a lifeline, grateful in a way he doesn’t know how to put into words.

“Look,” he says, stepping closer, his movements hesitant, cautious. His hands twitch at his sides like they’re drawn to you, but he doesn’t touch you—not yet. “I’m not good at this, alright? I screw up—a lot. But I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I hate seeing you like this.”

Your shoulders sag, and for a moment, you look just as tired as he feels. “Then stop making me feel like I don’t matter,” you murmur, your voice softer now, but no less weighted. “Stop acting like I’m just… an afterthought.”

“You’re not,” he says quickly, his voice firm and insistent. He steps closer, his hands finally settling on your arms. “You’re not an afterthought, okay? You’re—you’re everything to me. I just don’t know how to show it sometimes.”

For a moment, you don’t respond. You just stand there, his hands warm and solid against your arms, the tension between you palpable. Then, slowly, you look up at him.

“I just need to know you’re willing to change, I need you to try...” you say softly, your voice thick with emotion.

The room feels smaller now, the space between you charged but quieter. His hand moves, almost hesitantly, until it settles lightly on your arm. “I don’t know how to do this,” he repeats, his voice rough and uneven. “But I want to. For you.”

You search his face, your gaze lingering on his eyes like you’re trying to find something—sincerity, maybe. And when you finally nod, your body relaxing slightly in his grip, it feels like the first breath he’s taken in hours.

“You better,” you say, your voice quiet but steady now.

“I will,” he promises. Rafe’s lips twitch upward, his own smile soft and unsure. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. His arms wrap around the entirety of your body, holding you in his warm embrace like he never wants to let go. You feel his heartbeat against yours as the remenants of his anger fade away.

It’s not a perfect fix. Not even close. But as he holds you close, he feels like maybe, just maybe, he’s finally starting to understand.

divider by @crazyfrm!

[spicymancer]

What was the process like for designing the ActiRangers, their civilian and suited forms? Their suits look so cool, it’s definitely clear you have a lot of familiarity with the genre while also having great ideas on how to innovate and add your own unique elements! Did they go through lots of conceptual iterations, or did they come pretty naturally? Any particular teams that inspired you, like SPD or RPM with their numbered members?

So the Actirangers started out as characters designed for a private little Tokusatsu OC jam I did with some friends! The design I submitted was Pink, (hence why she's kinda the main character of the story)

(Real name and certain background elements redacted for spoiler reasons)

So Pink's suit was the first one designed, hence how she's kinda the most basic of the Rangers. I had just got done watching Birdie Wing and Love After World Domination and thought it would be kinda fun for a golf themed sentai hero.

She was originally going to be ActiRanger 5 before I thought of the "Four/Fore" golf pun.

The rest of the team was then designed from there with each of their sports in mind and some general vibes.

I don't think they went through all that much iteration, though I will say since I tend to draw them in Black and White I sometimes mix up which parts of their suits are their color and which parts are black.

I wanted to give them each some kind of Power Weapon so I stuck to stick sports and also Table Tennis. (I am still weirdly fond of the old Penny Arcade Paint the Line comics)

As far as Power Ranger teams that inspired them, Mighty Morphin' is obviously the biggest inspo. (The Dan Mora run on the Go Go Power Rangers comics is awesome.) Time Force, S.P.D. and RPM were all on my mind as well.

For the Gambit Gang I was struggling to come up with a fun villain theme and eventually figureod out that the enemy to the "Sports" team had to be the "Chess Club". (Insert joke about polycules and board games)

Gray in particular was conceived at this point when I and wanted an Evil Ranger on their side. Chess Knights having a vague horse theme, he obviously had to be Polo! His design draws pretty heavily from Mystic Force's Koragg which is still IMO one of the sickest designs Sentai has ever cooked.

Wow that got a little more long winded than I inteded but I hope y'all enjoyed this little peek behind the curtain of the ActiRanger's development!

Thank you all for enjoying my silly OC comics and doodles!

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 14)

summary: you accompany hugh to the new york premiere of deadpool & wolverine - the first hollywood event that you're attending by his side since the both of you had gotten together. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: smut (18+, mdni), unprotected p in v, missionary (kind of?), slow and sensual bc they in love 🤭, creampie, implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), reader physical description (hair and clothes only) no use of y/n. word count: 3.9k a/n: wow - another early update, who am i??? lol, hope y'all enjoyed this part. i really just wanted to write a smutty chapter surrounding the NY premiere of the movie. stay tuned because the angst is coming back - it's just right around the corner... as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. prev part. - next part.

You had finally moved all of your things into Hugh’s apartment and slowly, your things blend in with his – your clothes hung next to his in the closet, your toiletries on the bathroom counter mixed with his own, and you both had claimed each side of the bed already. It surprises you how easy it is with him, how normal this all feels. Sometimes, you find yourself dreaming of what your life would look like years from now and the only constant thing is him. Hugh. 

It scares you – how much you love him and how much he loves you. After Jack, you didn’t think you’d find someone to love you the way Hugh does, the way someone should be loved. And even months after moving in, you had been originally worried that maybe he’d get tired of you, that he’d want his own space from you, but it never came. He truly meant it when he said he was addicted to you because every chance he could get since you’ve moved in, Hugh would have to be touching you – a hand on your shoulder as you both watch a movie in the living room, one arm wrapped around your lower back as you both stand next to each other cooking dinner, cuddling you from behind every night. 

You do, however, enjoy coming home to him after a day of shooting. He’d always be there with a smile, greeting you in the driveway. Some nights, you don’t go to bed until late at night, having to edit the photographs that you’ve taken for couples and periodically editing the pictures you’ve taken from the set of Deadpool & Wolverine. And when you do lose track of time, Hugh’s there to gently rest his hands on your shoulders from behind, leaning down to place a light kiss on your temple. He’d whisper and tell you that it’s time to go to bed, slowly shutting your laptop and pulling you into his arms. 

You’ve been increasingly busy that you forget the premiere of Deadpool & Wolverine is fast approaching. You’re standing in the closet, arms crossed over your chest as you look through your clothes. You aren’t sure what you’re going to wear and you feel anxious, nervous to attend the premiere. It’s the first time that you’ll be accompanying Hugh to a Hollywood event, the first time debuting your relationship with him and you don’t know what to expect. There are still comments from pictures that he posts of you on his Instagram, questioning the age gap and questioning your true intentions. You don’t think that you’d ever get used to that aspect of his life and while you’ve gotten better at shutting out those negative comments, you’d be lying if you said that it no longer affects you. 

You hear Hugh shuffle into the closet, his strong arms wrapping around you from behind. He presses a kiss to your temple and looks at your clothes, confused. “What are we looking at in here?” 

“I don’t know what to wear for the premiere. I can’t believe I forgot that it was this weekend. I’ve just been so busy and–”

Hugh chuckles, turning you around slowly in his arms. “Baby, I got it all taken care of. Don’t worry about it.”

“Even what I’m going to wear?” 

Hugh nods. “Yes. You’ve shown me your calendar. I know you were gonna be busy leading up to the premiere, so I had everything done for you.”

“Even my dress?” you repeat, brow arching.

“Yes, baby,” he chuckles. “I actually had Blake help me out with it, told me that it’d be a surprise.” 

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna wear? Hugh!” 

“Baby, whatever you wear is gonna look good regardless,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “All I know is that it’s black to match with my suit and that I’m gonna like it a lot.”

“But what about me?” you laugh quietly. “Am I going to like it?” 

“I hope so,” he laughs. 

“Well, I trust Blake,” you smile, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his chest. 

“Are you saying you don’t trust me to get you a nice dress?” Hugh asks, gently pulling back to look down into your eyes. 

“... yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” you grin mischievously, slowly pulling away from him to step back. 

Hugh’s eyes narrow down at you and walk towards you, reaching out for you. “Where ya going, baby? Hm?” 

“Just… you know, away from you,” you laugh, turning on your heel and running out of the closet. 

Hugh chuckles and jogs after you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as he gently falls back on the bed with you. He hovers above you, his hands slowly moving along your sides. “Tell me again, you don’t trust me to pick out a nice dress for you?”

“Hugh, don’t even think about it,” you tell him, reaching for his hands. He chuckles and grabs your wrists with one of his large hands and pins them above your head, parting your legs with his own as he settles between the space of your legs. “Hugh!” 

“What, baby?”

“You know what!” 

“I don’t,” he smirks. “Do tell.”

“Don’t tickle me! You know I’m ticklish,” you smile, squirming against him. “I take it back. I do trust you. I trust you completely.”

Hugh chuckles and moves his hand from your side to rest on your hip, leaning down to peck your lips lightly. “I wouldn’t trust me to pick out a dress for you either,” he smiles. “But I do like teasing you like this, holding you down until you can’t move.” His gaze darkens briefly as he presses his hips into yours, his manhood hardening beneath the fabric. 

“I like it too,” you admit, biting your lower lip. “I like being at your mercy.” 

“You do, huh?” Hugh grins, moving his lips along your jawline and down the side of your neck. “Then why don’t you listen sometimes, hm?” 

“To be punished,” you answer immediately, eyes falling shut when you feel his teeth graze your pulse point. 

“Such a bad girl,” he growls, pulling back to look down at you. “And now, what are we gonna be? Good or bad?” 

“What do you want me to be, Hugh?” you ask, licking your lower lip in anticipation.

Hugh smirks, moving his hand from your hip to push underneath your shirt. “Surprise me,” he whispers, his hand moving upwards until his hand covers your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple. 

“Good, then,” you groan, legs wrapping around his waist. “I’ll be good…”

“Yeah, you will,” Hugh smirks and then pulls away from you to stand from the bed, eyes gazing every inch of your body. “Now be a good girl and turn to lie on your stomach, ass in the air, baby.” 

“Yes, sir,” you answer, turning over like he asked and resting on your forearms as you push your backside in the air for him. 

“Sir?” Hugh groans, moving a hand over your ass as he pushes his hips flush against yours. “I like that.” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulls it down your legs, grunting at the sight of your lace panties. “Gonna make you feel real good, honey.” 

—

The day of the premiere, you feel your nerves begin to settle in. You’re standing in the bathroom, fingers running over the black dress that hangs against the door. Your make-up remains light and your hair is pulled back into a neat bun, strands of curled hair falling over your face. 

“You almost ready, baby?” Hugh calls out, adjusting the sleeves of his button-down shirt as he pulls on the black blazer. 

“Yeah, one sec,” you answer, pulling on the black dress that immediately clings to your curves. You look over yourself, biting your lower lip at the sight. The black maxi dress is sleeveless with a high neckline, the silhouette of the dress enhancing your curves with your back exposed due to the low cut of the dress. Taking a deep breath, you step out of the bathroom and watch Hugh turn around to face you.

“My god,” he growls. Hugh gently takes your hand and slowly spins you around in front of him, eyes gazing your entire frame from top to bottom and bottom to top. “Remind me to thank Blake tonight. Wow, baby,” he bites his lower lip and leans down to peck your lips lightly. “You look amazing.” 

“Blake knows my style,” you smile, looking up at him. “But look at you,” you bring your hands to the lapels of his blazer, gently tugging it to bring him closer to you. “Think we can, you know,” you wink suggestively, wiggling your eyebrows.

“It won’t be a quick one if we start now,” he groans. “But you can guarantee that I’m gonna have my way with you when we get home.” 

“Okay, okay,” you laugh quietly, pointing to the heels that are resting near the bed. “Can you help me with my heels?” 

Hugh nods, hands running down your sides before he kneels in front of you. You take a seat at the edge of the bed, watching him place each foot into your heels, his hands lingering along your calf, yearning to move further and further up. 

“Hugh,” you warn.

“Sorry, baby. You just look fucking breathtaking.” He stands up slowly, extending a hand out for you to take. Once you do, Hugh pulls you to stand in front of him, leaning down to press his lips against yours. His free hand moves to your back, brushing his thumb across your skin as he moves his lips slowly with your own. “Gonna be tough to keep my hands to myself tonight,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away. 

You laugh quietly and shake your head, moving your hands up to his shoulders. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course,” he says softly. “What’s up?”

“I’m nervous,” you admit. “I know people are aware that we’re together, but this – it feels different.”

Hugh’s eyes soften as he reaches up to gently cup your cheek. “If you ever do feel uncomfortable, you let me know, okay?” 

You nod and turn your head to gently press a light kiss on the inside of his wrist. “You won’t leave my side, right?” 

“Never,” he whispers. “It’s gonna be okay. Besides, with that dress you’ve got on?” Hugh whistles, winking down at you. “People are gonna be more focused on how good you look rather than the topic of us.” 

You roll your eyes and gently nudge his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah.” Biting your lower lip, you look up at him and lean up to gently kiss his cheek. “I love you. Let’s go do this.”

—

You look out the window when the car comes to a stop. You can hear the loud cheering from the fans, followed by the sounds of the cameramen flashing their cameras and calling out names. You take a deep breath and look up at Hugh who climbs out of the car first, waving to the crowd as it roars even louder. 

He extends a hand out for you and smiles – his eyes gaze into yours and all of a sudden, nothing else matters except for him. You drown out the sounds of the fans, the sounds of the cameras and take his hand, slowly stepping out of the car. Hugh leans in and kisses your temple as he keeps a strong arm around your waist, leading you towards the red carpet. 

You look around and lean into Hugh, following his lead. You’re beginning to feel overwhelmed, hearing people call Hugh’s name followed by your own. You glance over at Hugh, amazed at how easy it is for him to slip into a persona that the media and his fans know, but when he gazes down at you, he smiles and it feels like it’s just the two of you. It’s a glimpse of the man that you’ve gotten the chance to know on a much more personal level, the man that you had fallen in love with, the man that only you get a chance to see. 

“You doing okay?” Hugh whispers, keeping his eyes focused on you despite the repeated calls of his name. 

“I’m with you,” you answer. “I’m doing great.” 

Hugh smiles, leaning down to peck your lips lightly. The fans cheer even louder and the cameramen become even more crazed at the sight and you rest your hand on his chest, burying your face against the crook of his neck. “Getting all shy on me now, baby.” 

“Not used to this many eyes on us,” you whisper, looking up at him. 

“Well,” Hugh hums. “I’m so glad I can finally show you off to the world.” 

“Ah, so that’s what this is?” you tease.

“Oh, of course. Just arm candy,” Hugh winks.

You gasp playfully and lean in once more to peck his lips. “Careful now, Hugh. Or else nothing’s gonna happen when we get back home.”

His gaze darkens momentarily, his hand itching to grasp your backside. Hugh drops his hand just to rest on your lower back, his fingertips resting at the top of your ass. “Feisty,” he chuckles. 

Hugh continues leading you down the red carpet and he keeps a tight hold on your waist, keeping you close to his side. He can’t even focus, his sole attention on you as you smile at the cameras and even wave to the fans. He couldn’t even believe that you didn’t envision how you fit so easily into his life in the beginning of your relationship with him. This was all Hugh could see – you. You fit so perfectly in his life, so easily… 

“Oh my god, Blake!” you exclaim, pulling Hugh out of his thoughts as you release your own hold on him to walk over to the other woman. He smiles to himself, seeing both you and Blake converse with each other but he can’t help his eyes stay focused on you. It isn’t until Hugh feels Ryan’s hands on his shoulders that he pulls his attention from you to look over at the other man.

“Your girl looks gorgeous,” Ryan chuckles, standing next to Hugh.

“I gotta thank Blake for that dress she’s wearing,” Hugh smiles. “And Blake looks great too, Ryan.” 

“We are just two lucky sonofabitches, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Hugh nods. “I still can’t believe it,” he admits, his eyes moving back to you as you pose next to Blake. Even in the midst of this chaos – the yelling of his name, the sounds of the cameras going off, the lights from the flashes – Hugh can only see you and everything else just fades into the background. 

You turn your head to the side to gaze at him, your smile broadening even further at the sight of him. Ryan looks between both you and Hugh and rolls his eyes, scoffing teasingly.

“You know, I figured the honeymoon phase would have worn off by now, but Jesus! She’s looking at you with those fuc–” 

“Okay, okay,” Hugh laughs. “Let’s not finish that thought, yeah, mate?” 

“Fine,” Ryan sighs dramatically. “Let’s go to our girls.” 

“Yeah, let’s,” Hugh smiles, yearning to have you by his side. 

—

Both you and Hugh didn’t get home until late at night, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you giggled into the crook of his neck. He had removed his suit jacket to drape around you, to keep you warm, but your hands are roaming his body. 

“You’re drunk, baby,” Hugh chuckles, leading you inside of your now-shared home. 

“Not drunk, tipsy.” You smile, following him up the stairs and into the bedroom. You take a seat at the edge of the bed and prop yourself on your hands, biting your lower lip as you watch Hugh remove his shoes and remove the belt from the loops of his pants. 

“Come ‘ere,” you call out, shrugging off his blazer as you reach down to remove your heels. 

“What d’ya want, baby?” Hugh asks, his gaze darkening as he looks at you. Once your heels are kicked off to the side, you stand up and walk over to him, his eyes raking your entire frame as his pants become increasingly tighter at the sight of you. 

“Thank you for dancing with me all night,” you grin. 

“I wouldn’t ever let you dance alone, baby,” Hugh smiles, his hands resting on your hips. “As long as I’m around, I’ll always be your dance partner.” 

You look into his eyes and smile, leaning in to lightly peck his lips. “First we’re training partners at the gym,” you giggle. “And now we’re dancing partners.” 

“Well, we make a great team, you and me.” 

“Yeah?” you bite your lower lip. “I think so too.” 

“I love you so much,” Hugh whispers, hands moving along your sides. “Tonight was amazing and I loved having you by my side through it all.”

You feel yourself begin to sober up at the look in his eyes, the way his voice lowers. The love you had for each other just blossomed even further since you moved in. “You made it easy,” you admit. “And your fans – they’re amazing.” 

“They just see what I see,” Hugh answers. “Someone so kind, so loving,” he whispers, leaning down to gently press kisses along your neck. “And someone who makes me incredibly happy.” 

Your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, shutting your eyes as you tilt your head back enough to expose more of your neck for him. His soft lips brush against your skin, his light stubble tickling you as a quiet whimper escapes your lips. “Hugh…”

“Yeah, baby?” he mumbles, pulling back to look down at you. 

“I need you,” you whisper. “Want you.” 

Hugh nods and lifts you up into his arms, walking you back to the bed as he sets you down. He hovers above you, bunching up the ends of your dress to rest around your hips to reveal your black lacy thong. “M’right here, honey.” 

He continues to push your dress further up your body until you lift it over your head and he shrugs it off to the side. Hugh pulls back to look down at you, the sight of your matching bra and panties making him even harder by the second. He reaches around you and undoes the strap of your bra, pulling it away from your body to expose your breasts to him. He lets out an involuntary groan at the sight and leans back on his knees to unbutton his black shirt, pushing it off his body. 

Hugh stands up from the bed, only to undo his pants and push it down his legs with his boxer briefs. His manhood springs to attention, the head already leaking with precome. He grabs your ankle and tugs you towards the edge of the bed, hearing you let out a quiet gasp. He smiles down at you and hooks his fingers into the waistband of your thong, pulling it down your legs as you lie before completely exposed and bare. 

“Been wanting you all night,” he groans, reaching down to grab a hold of his length. He tugs on it a couple of times before he steps closer to stand between your legs, seeing you prop yourself onto your elbows as your gaze moves downwards. “You were absolutely stunning tonight,” he whispers lowly, pressing his tip to your bundle of nerves and running it along the length of your sex. He feels your arousal dripping out of you, coating the head of his length.

“Hugh,” you moan, falling back onto the mattress. 

Hugh smiles to himself and leans over you, free hand resting on the mattress above your head as he slowly pushes past into you. His gaze locks onto yours as he feels your walls surround each inch of his length – so warm, so wet, so tight. 

You move your hands to his shoulders, gripping it tightly as the familiar stretch of his manhood overcomes your entire body. You keep your legs parted for him, feeling him push further into you inch by inch. “I love you,” you manage to moan out, his hips fully meeting yours. “Fuck.”

Hugh chuckles and moves his free hand to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb gently against your cheekbone. “I love you too, baby.” He pulls his hips back to his tip, looking down at himself and seeing the base of his length glisten with your slickness. Growling at the sight, Hugh thrusts back into you without hesitation and continues the movement slowly. 

He pulls out of you slowly, standing upright as he hooks his hands underneath your legs and pulls you even closer to the edge of the bed. As he does this, his manhood slides easily into you and he grips your legs, watching your breasts begin to bounce with each push forward. 

“Hugh, oh god…”

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, his fingertips digging into your flesh that’s sure going to leave marks later. He watches you tilt your head back, eyes falling shut as his hips begin to move faster. Hugh can feel your walls begin to tremble and tighten with each movement of his hips and the sounds of your moans mix in with the sounds of his skin slapping against yours. His eyes never leave you, mouth formed in an ‘o’ shape as you grip onto the bedsheets. “I know you’re close, baby… Come for me, honey.” 

You wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him closer to you with a nudge to his lower back with your feet. You arch your back, feeling Hugh slowly begin to lose control. “Hugh!” you moan loudly, walls tightening even further around him as you arch your back off the bed. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he moans, his own eyes falling shut as he tilts his head back. Hugh moves one hand from your leg to rest back onto the mattress, his hips beginning to stutter as he feels his release fast approaching. He delivers one, two, three more thrusts before he slams into you, painting your walls with his come. He slows his thrusts, his entire body shuddering at the feel of your walls continuing to milk him for every last drop.

“Hugh,” you whimper, gently bringing your hands to his chiseled chest and he leans down, pressing his lips lightly to yours. 

“Mmm,” he mumbles against your ips, pulling back slowly as he rests his forehead against yours. “Love you.”

“I love you too, Hugh,” you smile, pecking his lips. 

“Gonna be doing that every day until I leave for this press tour,” Hugh chuckles, slowly pulling out of you with a quiet groan. 

“Good.” you smile, whimpering quietly as you feel him slide out of you. “I expect nothing less.”

Hugh smiles and then looks down between your legs, biting his lower lip at the sight of his come slowly trickling out of you. “Let me clean you up, baby.” He walks into the bathroom and grabs a small towel, dampening it with water as he walks back out into the bedroom, standing between your legs once more as he wipes his come from the inside of your legs. 

You bite your lower lip and prop yourself on your forearms, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I love you, Hugh.” 

Hugh looks up at you, his eyes gazing into yours. “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that,” he smiles. “I love you too, baby.”

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1

@wolviehugh - @moonxknightx - @sullyselena - @angelofthorr - @spectorrrhgf

@needz1nk - @fandomxo00 - @godlypresley - @kythefangirl25 - @callsignyourmom

@sue8724 - @squishyfruitloop - @sylviavf - @emotrash1 - @dissentientss

@sir-thisisadndserver - @absolutepie - @millajay - @itsallyscorner - @haytchee

@wolverigrl - @its-in-the-woods - @d3ad2you - @definitely-not-chill - @khxna

@jules-and-gemss

[imagine-you]

all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me [Logan/Reader]

Summary: Sequel to won't somebody come take me home? and closer to where I started. Now that you've decided to put the past behind you, you're focused solely on what the future holds for you, Logan, and your family. Whether that means teaming up with the X-Men to help stop the escalated attacks around the city or sitting down for a nice dinner with Logan, Laura, and Wade, you're ready for all of it. You're so close to being completely happy until you find yourself a victim of one of the attacks and find out that someone from Logan's universe has managed to return. You never expected your new life to be easy, but you certainly never thought Logan's wife would show up and disrupt everything you had built for yourself. Word Count: 9k Author's Note: This chapter may contain: Angst, Reader Whump, Surprise Cameos, Angst, A New Villain, A Disrupted Villain Origin Story, Training Montages, Angst, A Smidge of Hope, Illusions, and…Angst. (but I swear the angst gets resolved. y'all have to trust me!! there will be a happy ending for this fic.)

When I'm With You I'm Home 'verse

won't somebody come take me home? // closer to where I started

Read on AO3

If anyone had told you while you were stuck in the Void that there was a future where you found yourself in another universe and your greatest wish had come true, then you would have chalked it up to a pipe dream and left it at that. If anyone had told you there was a future where your worst nightmare had come true, well then, that would've been easier to believe.  

"What are you making?" Laura asked, peering over your shoulder to get a look at the stove.  

"Something special," you told her, winking at her when she let out an impatient huff. "Steak and pasta," you clarified, turning your attention back to where you were spooning sauce over the steaks, hoping the flavor carried through for you.  

After getting back from your original universe, you had felt like the weight of the past had been lifted off your shoulders. You didn't give a fuck about your original Logan and as far as you were concerned, he could fuck off into whatever happy existence he wanted with Jean. Did you want them to suffer? Maybe. But it was no longer a requirement for you to heal.  

Your Logan had made sure of that.  

Now, weeks had passed, and you felt like a new person. Gone was the obsession with the past and in its place was now your excitement for the future.  

Your future with Logan and Laura and even Wade. Your future with a new family and a new team. Life hadn’t given you a moment of rest, but you were happy to know that when your back was against the wall, you had people ready to jump in and protect you from whatever hit came your way.  

All of you had spent the last couple of weeks wrapped up in the escalated attacks happening throughout the city. There weren't many indicators about who exactly was causing them. Half the time, there were explosions and other times it was just an outright slaughter.  

Logan and Wade were out trying to help the X-Men clean up the latest catastrophe. You had opted to stay home with Laura, taking a moment of well-deserved rest from running from one tragedy to the next. Logan had left you with a promise to return that evening and a kiss that hinted at more later.  

You thought it was cute how Logan kept insisting he was retired, but the first sign of trouble, and he couldn't help but jump right in. It was why you loved him, because even though he had spent years spiraling after the devastation he faced with his old life, he still couldn't help but try to make things better for others.  

You liked to think you had a little something to do with that.  

Even though you were just within reach from a perfect existence, you knew it still wasn't without its problems. You and Logan still had a lot of work to do. Both of you were still holding things close to the chest, afraid to show them and lose everything you had earned.  

Sometimes, you caught Logan simply watching you, wary and concerned, as if he thought you were about to leave him. Other times, when Logan woke in the middle of the night and reached for you, you wondered if he knew it was you or if he still held onto the memory of his wife, seeking her for comfort. Logan had been open and honest with you, but you sometimes got the feeling that he wasn't telling you everything. Some nights, when you couldn't sleep, you would lie awake and watch him, terrified that if given the chance he would leave you in a heartbeat for his old life.  

You always had the feeling like the other shoe was about to drop, so you had taken on the mentality that you were going to enjoy every day you got with him. Which was why you were hellbent on making the perfect dinner and having the perfect dessert all ready to go when he got back home. 

"Shit," you hissed when you started stirring together the ingredients for the pasta sauce. "I forgot one thing," you groaned, glancing over at Laura. "I've got to go out to grab something. Will you keep an eye on this for me? Just make sure it doesn't burn," you instructed her when Laura gifted you with a skeptical look. 

"What if it burns?" Laura wondered, reaching out to take the spoon from you when you handed it to her.  

"Then we'll order takeout," you answered with a shrug of your shoulders. "It won't be a big deal, but I still want to try to get this right," you told her, reaching out to flick her ear. 

Laura turned a glare on you, and you knew if you were anyone else, she would have already brought out her claws. You saw a fond smile take the place of her scowl before she shook her head. "Hurry," she urged you, turning a wary look at the stove.  

"Ten minutes," you promised, reaching out to grab your keys and wallet. "Just going down to the corner store." You saw Laura open her mouth and you knew what she was going to ask. "Yes, I'll get the cookies," you told her, thinking of the chocolate monstrosities she was so obsessed with lately.  

Laura grinned at you, pleased, and cautiously began to stir the sauce.  

You locked the apartment door behind you. You knew Laura was more than capable of taking care of herself and she had already been through hell and back, but you couldn't help but want to protect her in every way you could. She was still a kid, even if she would point out she was seventeen.  

You made it to the tiny market just around the corner from your apartment within four minutes. You were eager to get back and finish dinner. You couldn't wait to see the look on Logan's face when you had dinner all set up and told him that Laura even helped make it. You knew Wade would invite himself to dinner, so you would of course have extra just for him. You knew you wouldn’t be here without him, and while he drove you crazy, you now couldn’t imagine your life without him in it.  

You were a family, fucked up and weird, but full of love.  

You grabbed the cookies Laura wanted and searched for a can of black olives. You caught sight of the spices and started in that direction to see if there was anything extra you wanted to add to the sauce. You figured you had maybe five minutes to get back before Laura insisted she did everything she could to salvage dinner, but maybe you should just order pizza.  

You were reaching out to grab a bottle of parsley flakes when you noticed something pass right in front of you. You startled at the sight of the playing card, faintly glowing pink, as it sailed towards the shelves in front of you.  

You didn't even have time to prepare before the card landed and the shelves exploded. You brought your arms up, trying to shield your face from the shrapnel. The force of the blast was strong enough to throw you back into the shelves behind you. You felt your head connect with the edge of one the shelves and stars exploded in your vision.  

There was a ringing in your ears and the taste of blood in your mouth. Your head felt like it was spinning as you struggled to open your eyes, not even sure when you had closed them.  

You could hear footsteps approaching you and you managed to squint up at the person standing in front of you. Your gaze drifted from his boots to his trench coat and then up to his eyes. They were glowing a faint red.  

"Remy?" You groaned, reaching up to press a hand to your forehead. You blinked a couple of times, trying to make sense of what was going on. You looked at your fingers and they were stained red, blood coating them. Your face was stinging from the bits of shrapnel you hadn’t been able to shield yourself from and the back of your head was aching in a way you had never felt before.  

Remy crouched down in front of you. He reached out and tucked his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Now, I know we've never met before, so how is it you know my name?" He turned your head one way and then the other, considering you for a brief moment, before he made a thoughtful noise. "Oh, but believe me, we're going to get to know each other real well, bon ami. Just you wait." His eyes were no longer glowing, but there was a devious look in them you didn't like.  

You attempted to sit up, but your vision swam and you felt like you were going to throw up. “What the hell are you doing?” You attempted to ask, but your words were slurred, and you were having a hard time concentrating on him even though he was right in front of you.  

"Let's get you home, hm?" Remy said, gathering you up in his arms. He stood, lifting you with him, and you tried to wriggle out of his hold, but he was clutching you tightly enough that you couldn’t move.  

The last thing you saw was the underside Remy's jaw and the blur of the ceiling tiles above you before darkness swept in to collect you.  

You woke to sunlight that had escaped past the curtains in your bedroom and crept right towards you. It was an unwelcome intrusion and you brought your hand up to shield your eyes.  

You groaned, forcing yourself to sit up, before squinting at your surroundings. Your head was aching, each pound of your heart sending a bolt of pain right behind your eyes. You didn’t remember drinking the night before or even crawling into bed, but it felt like the worst hangover you had ever experienced. 

"Fuck," you grumbled before forcing yourself out of bed. Logan seemed to already be up, and you wondered if he had liked your dinner the night before. There was something wrong, something off, but you didn't know what it was yet. You were having trouble thinking past the pain.  

You walked towards your bedroom door, intent on hunting down the bottle of painkillers you kept in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. You tried to think about what happened before you fell asleep and finally your memories came back to you in a dizzying rush.  

Making dinner, leaving Laura in charge, and locking the door behind you. Going to the store, a playing card that ending in an explosion, and Remy promising to take you home.  

"I had the weirdest dream," you muttered as you stumbled out into the living room. The pain in your head spiked with every footstep and your mouth was so dry your tongue felt like it was sticking to the roof of your mouth.  

The first thing you noticed was that Logan was sitting at the kitchen table and the second was that he wasn't alone. You froze just a few feet away from the table trying to make sense of what was in front of you.  

Because Logan was there in his usual seat at the table and he had his hand outstretched over the surface. His hand was clutching the stranger's like a lifeline and he looked as if the person in front of him had just saved him from his own personal torment.  

You slowly rounded the table, a twisting feeling of dread in your gut, as you got a look at the stranger.  

It was you.  

Well, not you. She had a scar crossing one of her eyes and her hair was a different color. She carried herself with more confidence, her shoulders not slumped and head held high. She was wearing the same yellow and blue X-Men suit you first saw your Logan in when you were trapped in the Void.  

But she was still undeniably you. Just a variant you could have been in another universe.  

"What?" You felt helpless as you looked to her and then to Logan. Pain had been overtaken by confusion and now you felt like you were going to pass out for an entirely different reason. "What's going on?" 

"My wife," Logan said, finally tearing his gaze away from her to look at you. "She's back. A portal opened up last night and she walked right through it." His voice was filled with incredulous awe, and it felt like there was a knife digging into your chest. Your breath hitched and you tried to push past the feeling being carved out right where your heart resided.  

You didn't think it could get any worse until you noticed the look of pure love and adoration he gifted her. You had only ever seen that look aimed at you and seeing it given so freely to someone else had you clenching your fists at your sides, anger washing over you.  

"So, what?" You snapped, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of your tone. "She's just going to live here now? We'll all be one big happy family?" You didn't want to fight anyone for Logan's attention. Not again. Not after what happened with Jean in your other universe. You couldn't lose again. You wouldn't.  

Logan stared up at you before he finally looked back at his wife. "We're still married," he pointed out, brushing his thumb gently over the wedding ring on his wife's hand. "And she was my first love," he continued, twisting the knife deeper and deeper. "I'm sorry, but I can't leave her again." 

You watched the couple in front of you, frozen in that moment. Hurt and indecision rose within you and you felt trapped.  

"So, what does that mean for me?" Your voice sounded so small and scared that you almost didn't believe it was yours. You had never felt this way with your Logan before and you didn't know what to do.  

Logan finally tore his gaze away from his wife to look at you again.  

"I'm sorry, but now that I have her back...," he trailed off, letting you assume the rest for yourself. "You can stay until you find somewhere else to go," he offered, as if it was any consolation.  

You let out a hollow little laugh as you took a step away from him. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Logan, after everything you had been through together, was giving you up as if you meant nothing to him. The same ache and loneliness you felt back in your original universe was descending on you again. You thought you had put those feelings behind you, but now you were having to confront them again in the worst way.  

Because this Logan had loved you like the other one never had and this one had promised never to hurt you. But here he was, crushing any hope you had that this Logan would be different.  

You forced yourself to turn around, putting your back to them. You couldn't stand to look at them anymore.  

You were faced with Laura standing there in the doorway of the apartment. She was silent, watching you, and you had a sinking feeling in your gut that told you this wouldn't go your way either.  

"Laura, I--," you started as you approached her, not even sure where you would end up. "Do you want to come with me?" Was what you settled on, because evidently you couldn't stay here. You had been through so much with Laura. You had survived the Void together and fought together just to survive. Surely, that had to mean something to her. ‘Don’t leave me all alone,’ was what you wanted to beg, but you didn’t want Logan to have the satisfaction of seeing you brought down to your lowest point.  

Laura took a few steps forward and you wondered if she would meet you in the middle. Instead, she walked past you and stood at the table, joining Logan and his wife. "I can't lose him again," Laura said, echoing your thoughts. Except, Laura could stay and you had to go.  

You saw Logan's wife, the other you, the one he was choosing over you, reach out to flick Laura's ear. Instead of snapping at her, Laura turned a fond, soft smile on the other you and you felt another piece of your heart break.  

That was your thing with Laura and that should have been your smile. Logan's wife had swept in and cleared you out, leaving no room for you.  

You could feel the fight or flight instinct rising within you and you chose to get the hell out of there. It wasn't your home anymore, because someone had filled your role. You were no longer needed.  

You didn't even know where you were going to go, but you somehow found yourself right at Wade's doorstep. You brought your hand up to knock, terror and despair coursing through you.  

Wade answered the door in a suit and tie. You would have asked him what the hell was going on, but he didn't give you a chance to talk. He leaned on the doorframe, considering you with a grimace. "I thought you'd show up here after you found out." 

"You know?" You weren't sure why it felt like such a betrayal, but you always thought Wade would have had your back. Why didn't he track you down and warn you? Why had no one just given you some kind of heads up that you would be completely ousted from the life you had built for yourself with Logan? 

"Sure do, baby bird," Wade confirmed with a quick nod of his head. There was something off in his tone. This didn't feel like the same Wade you had come to know and reluctantly love. This almost felt like a stranger wearing a Wade mask. "I was there when she showed up. Just walked right out of that portal and into Logan's arms like she hasn't been dead for the past who knows how long." 

You hated that you could picture that perfectly, as if Wade's memory was playing out in your head.  

"Yeah, well, it looks like I'm not needed anymore now that he has who he really wants." You felt like an idiot for ever thinking you were more than just a placeholder for Logan's wife. You didn't want to cry in front of Wade, but you could feel the sting of tears in your eyes.  

Wade tilted his head to the side, watching you with an intensity that was almost unnerving. "So, what are you gonna do now?" 

"Can I stay here?" You tried, knowing that you couldn't go back to your apartment. You didn't want to ever step foot in there again, knowing that the bright, happy memories you had created were now tainted with misery.  

Wade brought his foot back, kicking the door to his apartment open enough for you to see Vanessa seated at the table. "No can do," Wade answered with a wince. "You see, I'm trying to win her back over and I'm already sharing a one bedroom apartment with Blind Al, so it's a little cramped around here. But hey, if you join the X-Men, it usually comes with free room and board. They'll take anyone," he got out on a laugh, before he waved his hand. "Well, except for me. You shoot one person," he lamented, shaking his head in disappointment. "Or, hey, I hear Love Island is casting. Might be time to find you a new boo." 

"So," you started, trying to reconcile the fact that you no longer had a home with Logan and now you couldn't find one either with Wade. "I can't stay here," you said, and it was no longer a question, it was just a fact of your new lonely, pathetic existence. 

There was something so off about everything that had happened that day and you were trying to make sense of all of it. You had just spent the night before making a special dinner for your family and now you didn't even have one.  

Everything was happening so fast that you felt like you weren’t even really processing it. Why hadn’t you just stayed at the apartment and fought for Logan? This was your life. Your home, your family, your love. Why were you just giving it all up so easily? You didn’t understand, but now you weren’t even sure you would be able to force yourself to go back. 

"No," Wade admitted, with a sheepish grin. "It's not only Vanessa, you see, but Logan. I mean, Deadpool and Wolverine are a package deal now. There's no breaking up that superhero wet dream team and if I'm harboring his ex? Then that'll just make it more awkward than the time I used his toothbrush on Dogpool. Trust me, he made me regret that one. There are some places those claws of his should not go," he warned with a shudder.  

Hearing Wade refer to you as Logan's ex broke something inside you. You could feel hurt begin to overwhelm you, swiftly replaced by anger. You let out a short, sharp scream of frustration. You didn't even realize you had formed a forcefield around you and pushed out with it until you realized Wade had been knocked several steps back.  

"Y/N--" Wade started, but you turned away from him.  

You didn't want to be placated and you didn't want to deal with anymore of Wade's nonsense. You let yourself go invisible, knowing that it was the only way you would feel safe now.  

You wandered around the neighborhood for hours, trying to figure out where you belonged. You trudged from street to street before unerringly finding your way back to your apartment complex once night fell. You didn't dare go inside, but you stayed out on the sidewalk. People passed by you, never knowing you were even there, and you kept your gaze up on the window that shone brightest in the dark.  

Logan was up there. He was with his wife and Laura and they were a family in their home enjoying a night together. You were no one with nothing and no home to share with anyone. 

You weren't sure why you stayed there for so long, but you thought it had something to do with hope and an inane wish that he would come downstairs and tell you it was all some sick joke. You thought of his promise that he would always find you, even when you were hidden, but that hadn't been true either.  

Logan was happy without you, because he had what he really wanted all along. So, why would he come find you when he didn't even need you anymore? 

Or worse, Logan knew you were down here and just didn't care about you anymore.  

With that revelation, you turned and walked away. There was a swirling mess of thoughts stuck in your head that dredged up the same old insecurities you thought you had shed once and for all.  

You would never be good enough. You were unloved. You didn't matter. You weren't worth anything. 

You had no one.  

You felt tears slide down your cheeks as you aimlessly roamed from place to place. You next found yourself outside the X-Mansion, wondering if you should take Wade's advice and join up with the X-Men. As much as you longed to feel like you belonged somewhere, you didn't think you could go back to saving people with a smile on your face like you weren't slowly withering inside.  

There was a whisper of your name on the air. You glanced over your shoulder, looking to see who called your name, but you found no one. It had been so faint that you might have imagined it, but there was a feeling, an electrified touch, that had briefly set your nerves alight.  

You weren't sure what time it was, but you were exhausted. You found it pathetic and sad that you didn't have anywhere to go. You didn't even have money for a hotel room. All you could think to do was find a park and drop down onto a bench. At the very least, you knew you could protect yourself if anyone tried to attack you.  

You formed a forcefield around you, ignoring the fact that it would only slip away while you slept, and let yourself drift away.  

When you woke, you weren't alone. You jolted in place, suddenly wide awake, and scrambled to sit up. On the bench across from yours, a man was sitting reading a newspaper.  

He quirked an eyebrow at you when he realized he had your attention.  

"I was wondering when you would wake up," he said, lowering the newspaper.  

He had dark eyes and darker hair. He wore a suit with a black trench coat, but the illusion of a businessman was ruined by the combat boots he was wearing. His skin was pale and there was a faint ring of red around his eyes that had you wondering if he was wearing makeup. His appearance, oddly enough, seemed false, but the grin on his face was genuine, if a bit unsettling.  

"Were you watching me?" You couldn't help but wonder, half-torn between becoming invisible to make your escape and staying to get answers.  

"Yes," he answered, unashamed by his actions. "I thought it fascinating that someone would let you stay out here all alone. You don't deserve that, so I stayed to keep watch over you." 

You wanted to tell him you could take care of yourself, but you didn't feel so sure about that anymore. The reminder of your loneliness crept up on you and you could feel doubt settle over you. You were on your own now without a team. No one was going to come save you if you found yourself in trouble. You would simply have to claw your own way out.  

"What's your name?" You decided to ask instead, studying him from across the small concrete path that separated you.  

"Nathaniel," he introduced himself with a smile. "And you are?" 

"Y/N," you returned, with a half-hearted wave.  

"Now, I know we just met, but I do have one thing on my mind," Nathaniel started, leaning in towards you after placing his newspaper on the bench beside him. "What on earth are you doing out here all by yourself?" 

You felt your lips twist to the side in a frown as you bit down on the side of your mouth to keep a lid on the emotions that threatened to boil over at the reminder of the previous day. "I--," you cut yourself off, not sure how to phrase your situation to a stranger without making it seem as if you had completely lost your mind. "I lost my home yesterday," you settled on with a grimace. "My family kicked me out." 

Nathaniel made a sympathetic noise before he stood up. "May I?" He asked, gesturing towards your bench. 

You shrugged your shoulders in answer but moved over to leave him enough space to sit down beside you.  

"In my experience, family is a fickle thing," Nathaniel continued once he was at your side. "People come and go, but you have to be able to stand by yourself and forge your own path once it all falls apart." 

"I don't know if I can do that this time," you whispered, ashamed to admit that you were on the brink of losing whatever control over your emotions you had managed since waking up.  

Nathaniel turned so he could watch you. It was a bit unnerving, but you figured you had no one else for company. A smirk tugged at his lips as he studied you. "You're a fighter," he assured you.  

"Oh?" You wondered, returning his stare. "And how would you know that?" 

His smirk was still in place as he tapped his temple. "I'm psychic," he proclaimed, holding up his fingers and waving them before imitating a ghostly wail.  

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you and it felt so wrong.  

"There we go," Nathaniel murmured with a pleased smile. "Look, I know you don't know me, but how about a drink? Coffee?" He prompted, moving to stand and holding out a hand to you.  

You didn't want to wallow in your misery on the park bench all by yourself and you figured Nathaniel made a decent enough distraction. "You're paying," you told him, reluctantly grabbing his hand and letting him help you up. "Only because I don't have any money." 

Nathaniel laughed, the sound briefly jarring to you, and cocked his head to the side. "In that case, I'll buy you breakfast too." 

You found yourself in a diner booth sitting across from Nathaniel. He offered to buy you whatever you wanted, but you settled for a cup of coffee and a stack of pancakes. You weren't all that hungry and you couldn't get your mind off Logan. You wondered what he was doing right at that moment and then you dashed the thought. He was probably happy with his wife and Laura and had forgotten all about you.  

"Hey," Nathaniel called, getting your attention. "Where did you go?" 

You shook your head, biting your lip to distract yourself.  

"Thinking about your family?" He prompted, shooting you a wary look. "I know I'm a stranger and it's none of my business, but do you want to tell me what happened? Maybe I can offer some perspective." 

You scowled down at your pancakes, pushing them halfheartedly around the plate with a fork. You glanced around the diner, spotting a blonde woman wearing a white suit watching you curiously from a booth not far from yours. You shook your head at Nathaniel, not wanting anyone to overhear you.  

"Let's get out of here," you told him, pushing yourself out of the booth. "I could use a walk to clear my head." 

"Alright," Nathaniel readily agreed, standing as well. While he placed a twenty on the table, you made for the door.  

There was that whisper again in the air that had you looking over your shoulder. Someone was calling your name, but you didn't see anyone you recognized. No one was even looking at you except for Nathaniel who was slowly approaching you.  

"You okay?" Nathaniel interrupted, stealing your attention away.  

"Yeah," you muttered, briefly nodding your head. "Just c'mon," you said, barely waiting for Nathaniel to follow you before you pushed through the door and walked outside.  

You didn't think you would be able to confide in a total stranger, but there was something strangely freeing about unloading all the burdens on your mind to someone who didn't know anything about you. You even managed to drop the mutant bomb on him and were surprised when Nathaniel only took it in stride, as if he had expected all along you weren’t quite normal. He mostly seemed focused on what you told him about your family and how you lost them all in one fell swoop.  

"Sounds like you're better off without them," Nathaniel mused. "Anyone who would let you go like that is an idiot." 

"Maybe," you begrudgingly agreed. You didn't think it was possible, but Nathaniel had managed to make you feel better. Maybe letting out all your worries had briefly unburdened you. Or maybe since you lost everyone, you had been desperate to hear someone tell you it wasn’t your fault.  

"They're all ungrateful idiots," Nathaniel continued. "You're special," he told you. "And you deserve more." 

His tone brooked no argument, but you were a little thrown off by how serious he seemed.  

"I don't know what I'm going to do now," you deflected, scowling down at your hands. "I don't have anyone or anywhere to go. And I've just spent the day with a stranger telling him my whole pathetic sob story." 

"I'm not a stranger anymore," Nathaniel offered with a grin. "You know my name and everything." 

"I know literally nothing else about you," you pointed out. You were starting to feel apprehensive about trusting someone you didn't even know. Your head was beginning to hurt and you could feel your hands trembling. You weren't sure why panic had hit you all at once, but you could feel your heart beating overtime in your chest and a cold sweat begin to break out along your skin. You were beginning to hyperventilate, confused and overwhelmed, when Nathaniel took you by the shoulders and forced you to look into his eyes.  

"Hey, it's all going to be okay. Just trust me, alright? Y/N, you with me?"  

You tried to focus on Nathaniel, but there was a ringing in your ears and you swore someone else was trying to get your attention. You shook your head, trying to keep yourself from falling right into a spiral. You forced yourself to take slow, deep breaths, realizing that Nathaniel was also taking them, trying to coach you through your anxiety attack.  

You closed your eyes once you finally felt like you could stand on your own two feet without freaking out. You took a moment to center yourself before allowing yourself to open your eyes again.  

"Thanks," you whispered, nodding at him when he shot you a skeptical look. "I'm fine. I'll be fine," you claimed, even though you knew it was a lie. You were tired of loving and losing. Your heart ached for Logan and you knew that you would never recover from losing him. But Nathaniel, odd as he was, had managed to help you feel like maybe you didn't have to spend the rest of your existence completely alone.  

"I know you will," Nathaniel confirmed with another one of his smiles. "Because you're coming home with me." 

You stared at Nathaniel, waiting for the punchline, but it never came. "I could be a serial killer," you warned him with a scoff. "And you're inviting me into your home?" 

Nathaniel shrugged his shoulders, a smirk on his face. "I'm not scared of you." 

He sounded so sure of himself that you couldn't help the disbelieving laugh that escaped you. "You're completely insane, aren't you?" 

"So, is that a yes?" Nathaniel wondered, holding his hand out to you and waiting for you to take it. "Will you join me?" 

You stared down at his hand for a beat too long to be socially acceptable. It felt like you were about to make a deal with the devil, but Nathaniel had been nothing but kind. He had given you a shoulder to cry on and was now giving you a place to go so you wouldn’t have to spend another night on a park bench. 

You knew it was probably a bad idea, but you still found yourself reaching out to take his hand.  

"Okay," you reluctantly agreed. "I'll go with you." 

You thought it would be weird once you found yourself in Nathaniel's apartment, but it felt oddly familiar. He had a guest room that he had designated as yours and made sure you could take whatever you wanted from the fridge. You didn't know how to return his kindness, but you knew you would have to find a way.  

Nathaniel had gone out to get dinner while you waited on his couch, idly flipping through channels. You were starting to doze off, exhausted, when you heard someone calling for you.  

You squinted at the television, wondering if you were hearing things, when it happened again. You had stopped on a news report, catching sight of the woman from the diner. You assumed she was a news anchor, but the way she was looking at the camera gave you the eerie sensation that she was somehow actually watching you. When her gaze drifted over, as if looking at someone behind you, you rushed to turn off the television. 

You cautiously glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see someone standing there. But you were alone.  

 “Y/N,” the voice called again. It was faint, like they were outside, but close enough for you to hear.  

“What the fuck is happening?” You growled, growing frustrated. “Where are you?” 

You stood, wondering if you should go looking for whoever was trying to reach you, when Nathaniel walked into the apartment. He held up the bag of takeout and nodded towards the kitchen table.  

"Ready to eat?" 

Time dragged on as days and weeks passed. You still thought of Logan practically every waking moment, but Nathaniel had done his best to distract you.  

You were grateful for him, because you didn't know how you would have lived without someone there to fill the void in your life.  

You weren't sure what day it was or even how long had passed since you last saw Logan, but you knew that you had started to heal.  

"Sometimes," Nathaniel told you once you voiced that thought to him. "You have to let something break so you can piece it back together to get something new. To get what you truly want. What is it that you want, Y/N?" Nathaniel studied you with the same unnerving intensity he always did and you hated to admit that you were finding it less weird each time it happened.  

Logan was the first thought that came to your mind. You wanted Logan and you wanted your home and you wanted your family. You wanted to show Laura how to cook and you wanted to follow Wade into crazy situations, knowing that he would have your back just like you had his back. You wanted to crawl into bed with Logan at the end of each day knowing that you were wanted and cherished.  

Nathaniel made a disappointed noise before he shook his head. "There's no going back," he told you "I'm sorry, but it's just not going to happen." 

You didn't like the way he sounded so sure of himself. Nathaniel didn't know Logan and he didn't even really know you. You had spent weeks with him, but years of your life had been devoted to a Logan. Your Logan had been better, you knew it, so maybe you were the one who wasn't worthy.  

Nathaniel made a tsking noise before he reached out. He wrapped his hand lightly along the underside of your jaw, his thumb pressed to the other side of your neck over your pulse point. He considered you for a long moment, as if he was searching for something.  

"He left you," Nathaniel reminded you, as if it hadn't been eating you up inside since it happened. "You are special. You deserve to be cherished," he continued, and you started to worry about the potentially romantic direction he was going with his lecture. A brief smile flitted across his face, as if he could read your mind, before his expression slipped back towards something more serious. "You're lost and you're broken," he added, gently sweeping his thumb over your pulse point. "Let me put the pieces back together." 

You weren't even sure if you trusted Nathaniel, but you had spent so long hurting that you were tempted to say yes.  

You suddenly felt like someone had brushed their hand over the back of your head and you heard someone call your name. It was the same voice as before and you knew better than to look for someone you wouldn't find. But Nathaniel's eyes strayed just over your shoulder, as if he had heard it too. There was a brief flicker of irritation on his face before he gifted you with a sincere smile.  

"I've got you," he promised. "No one is ever going to get near you again." 

"Okay," you finally agreed, if only because you were curious about what he had in mind. You also couldn't deny that you were just so desperate to not fall back into that desolate pit of isolation you had begun to dig for yourself. Nathaniel saw you and he wanted you. There wasn't much else you felt like you could ask for now.  

And if Nathaniel's sharp smile sent a shiver through you for all the wrong reasons, then you were the only one who had to know about that.  

Nathaniel seemed insistent that in order to move on, you would have to make yourself stronger. To him, that seemed to mean training day and night, improving upon your power in new and terrifying ways.  

You spent hours, days, weeks, stretching the limits of your power. Your power had always been meant as a defense, to protect and contain, but now you wanted to wield it as a weapon.  

Your progress felt excruciatingly slow, but you had to admit that you were pleased with the results. It started simple enough with just a thought. You wanted your forcefields to hurt. The barriers you would have erected to protect yourself should also be used to hurt anyone who dared get too close.   

Nathaniel had rented out an abandoned location in a strip mall and set up targets for you to use. More often than not, he was watching you, as if he was waiting for something. Other times, he seemed content to leave you alone, trusting you would have something new to show him when he returned.  

You practiced on the targets, first forming forcefields around your fists and breaking anything that stood in your way. Nothing held up to them and you started growing bored of that tactic. You started to think that if you could form a forcefield, then it could be any shape you wanted. Spikes, swords, knives all began to adorn the edges of your forcefields, facing out and ready to maim anything that was in the way.  

Nathaniel seemed eager when you first formed a forcefield that was outlined with spikes and used it to repeatedly stab holes into the brick fence that lined the back of the property. You were sure he was never going to get his deposit back, but he didn't even seem to care. He only encouraged you to think bigger and do more.  

With time, you were even able to produce two forcefields at once. It was exhausting and drained all your energy, but you liked the idea of protecting yourself while also using a different forcefield to hurt an attacker. From there, it was only natural to think of taking a forcefield, forming it around an enemy, and turning the projected spikes inward, letting them impale your target without a way to escape.  

You felt stronger and invulnerable. You had never thought to test your power like this, and the feeling was nearly intoxicating. Logan and Laura and Wade were still on your mind, but now you knew that you didn’t need them. Like Nathaniel told you, you could stand on your own and forge your own path ahead.  

No one would hold you back now.  

The first time you felt the full force of your own power was when Nathaniel was taunting you into a reaction.  

"He doesn't care about you anymore. He's moved on with the true love of his life and you are nothing to him. You don't need him anymore. You can show him that you're better off without him." 

There were targets surrounding you, but you didn't care about them. All you could think about was Logan and the stupid lovelorn look on his face as he looked at his wife. He looked like he had been saved. Saved from you and whatever pathetic existence he was ready to settle for in her absence. You deserved better and you wanted to rip that stupid look right off his face. You wanted to make him and her regret it.  

You let out a scream of frustration, punching out with your forcefield at one of the targets, but it got carried away from you. All the targets snapped back, taken out at once from the blast. It carried farther out, nearly ripping the door off its hinges and shattering the front windows.  

You looked at Nathaniel, where he was splayed on the floor, staring up at you in awe.  

"You did it," he praised as he began to push himself to his feet. You crossed over towards him, holding out your hand to help get him up off the floor. “I knew you could do it.” 

"What was that?" You wondered, breathless and ecstatic. Your power had never quite felt like that before. You wanted to try it again, the rush of it addicting. If you could hone that and strengthen it, then you could use it on multiple enemies at once. You could become nearly unstoppable.   

"A repulsion field," Nathaniel answered, reaching out to rest a hand on your shoulder. "With time, I expect you'll be able to direct it and control it. You’ll be able to take out a whole city if you want." 

"Shit," you breathed, still shocked that you had managed something like that. "I didn't think I could use my power in that way. It was...exciting," you decided with a grin at Nathaniel.  

"I told you that you're special," he reminded you. "I knew you had that in you all along." 

"Thank you," you found yourself saying. You considered the targets on the floor and wondered if there would be any more use in them.  

"I have extras," Nathaniel assured you. "Want to try again?" 

You felt a pleased little thrill shoot through you at the thought. "Fuck yes," you answered.  

A week passed since you found out about the extra perk your power allowed you. You felt more confident and assured of yourself. Gone was the self-doubt and in its place was a feeling that you could defeat anyone or anything.  

You were walking to the store with Nathaniel, thinking about what you might want to make for dinner. Nathaniel was being unusually quiet and leaving you alone to your thoughts. You wondered if something was wrong, but then you spotted her.  

It was you. The other you. She was alone. No Logan or Laura or Wade in her vicinity.  

You couldn't help the way you froze on the sidewalk or the fury that rose up swiftly enough you felt nearly sick with it.  

She was to blame for everything. She had stolen your life away from you and now she got to be happy while you spent the rest of your life wanting someone you would never have again.  

"Is that her?" Nathaniel asked, rounding back to standing at your side. "The one who stole your life from you?" 

You nodded your head, attempting to keep a lid on your anger.  

"Why don't you make her regret it?" 

The idea was so simple, but so damn tempting. You could just imagine the look on her face when she realized she was incredibly outmatched now. You could destroy her within seconds and she would never be able to stop you. 

You knew it wasn't something you should entertain. You had lived your whole life as a hero. There was a line you would have never dared to cross before but after everything that had happened, you were starting to realize that line was blurred beyond recognition. As far as you were concerned, she had stolen your life from you, and it was only right that she realized what a mistake that had been.  

"You're better than her now. Stronger," Nathaniel continued, leaning in closer to you. "She can't do half of what you can. Show her what you've learned." 

"I don't know," you tried to deflect. You wanted your revenge, but there was still a tiny voice in your head saying it wasn’t right. It wasn’t what you were supposed to do. 

"Aren't you tired?" Nathaniel hissed, his hand coming up to clutch your shoulder in a near-painful grip. "Tired of being the doormat. The hero. The martyr. Don't let them get away with it. Don't let her walk away." 

You didn't even realize you had made up your mind until you were walking up to the other you. She was checking out a display of plants that had been left outside of the market for customers to choose, but she seemed to sense your approach, because she turned to consider you.  

You weren't sure what she saw when she looked at you, but her eyes went wide with fear, and she immediately pulled up a forcefield. You stalked forward, intent on your target. You didn't care if anyone was watching, because you felt like you were completely justified in your actions.  

You passed right through her forcefield and pushed her back. She fell to the ground, staring up at you in terror. You pulled your fist back, forming your own forcefield around it. You let spikes form along the outside facing towards her. All you had to do was bring it down onto her face. It would be a killing blow, and you would never have to think about her again. Logan would lose the love of his life, but maybe he would come back to you. Maybe you could return to him stronger, better, and without any more competition.  

For a moment, as you looked right into her face, it was like gazing into a mirror. The scar was gone, her hair was the same as yours, and you were wearing similar clothes. She looked just like you.  

You were convinced that she was you.  

And that made you pull back, horrified at what you had almost done.  

Her eyes were closed, ready for a blow that you weren't capable of dealing any longer.  

"I'm sorry," you whispered before stepping away, propelling yourself right out of her forcefield.  

"Y/N?" Nathaniel called, pulling your attention towards him. "What are you doing? She's right there. Kill her," he demanded, his lips pulling back in a sneer.  

You shook your head, feeling something indescribable but ultimately terrified swell within you. What had you become? What had Nathaniel done to you? You had let him so far into your head that you had almost done something unspeakable.  

You made yourself go invisible before you took off running. You didn't know where you were going or where you would even hide, but you knew that you needed to get away from Nathaniel. He had pushed you to do more, be more, and you had never once stopped to think about which road you were heading down and whether it would lead you right to the point of no return.  

You could hear Nathaniel yelling for you to stop and come back, but you didn't listen. You wanted to get away from him and just think. It felt like you had let him take up residence in your head and now you wanted to figure out how the hell to evict him.  

You ran until you felt like you were going to collapse. You finally stopped outside of a library. You rushed inside, catching a glimpse of the news anchor flipping through a book as you went right for the back corner.  Two bookshelves met there and you sank right to the floor in front of them. You dropped your head into your hands and forced yourself to take deep breaths.  

"Y/N," you heard someone call. It wasn't Nathaniel and it wasn't anyone else you immediately recognized. But it was familiar. They had been trying to get your attention all along.  

"What," you snapped, already feeling like you were on the verge of crumbling. Nathaniel had been right that you were broken, but who was going to put the pieces back together this time? It felt like Nathaniel had managed to piece them back together all wrong and you didn't even feel like yourself anymore.  

"Y/N," the voice called again.  

You closed your eyes and focused on the voice. You reached out for it, desperate for any sort of lifeline. It was a spark right at the back of your mind. You rushed to meet it, eager to figure out who had been trying to talk to you.  

"My name is Charles Xavier."  

You startled, nearly letting the tenuous connection between you and Charles drop, but finally throwing everything you had towards it.  

"This world is a lie," Charles continued once he realized you could hear him. "Do not let him break you. They're coming to find you." 

"Who?" You couldn't help but ask, hope and fear clashing inside you, threatening to overwhelm you.  

"A rather odd group of saviors," Charles answered, a hint of amusement clear in his words. "But stay strong and do what you can to break free of his hold. He has a way to keep me out, so once he finds you, I’m afraid I won’t be much help to you. Just hold on until they get there." 

You didn't know how you were going to get yourself out. You were starting to think it was hopeless, because you hadn’t even realized you were trapped in the first place. The more you thought about it, though, the more obvious it became that something had been wrong since the morning you woke up and Logan’s wife was sitting in your kitchen. The fact that she had come back from the dead, Logan’s quick dismissal of you, Laura and Wade both turning their backs on you. Nathaniel’s convenient timing and the way he watched you as if you were nothing more than an experiment for him. A pet mutant he could poke and prod and play with while you were none the wiser.   

“Who’s coming to find me?” You didn’t dare to assume that you were worth the rescue, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to know. You had to hold onto the one little spark of hope you could feel burning defiantly inside you.  

For one terrifying moment, your mind was still, and you felt crushingly alone. Just when you thought you had been abandoned, Charles left you with one final word.  

"Logan." 

Author's Note: There will be a fourth chapter! Did I have you going for a while there? I felt so evil writing this. I truly did. If you liked this, please let me know. Not to sound needy, but comments/reblogs/etc. literally fuel me to write more and inspire me so much to keep coming up with fun stuff. Thank you to everyone who has shown this series any support! Also, if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist, just let me know!

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@astudyoftimeywimeystuff

[precure1ove]

Raison d’être

summary : meaning ; “ A reason for existing “  bickering like a married couple with ace

character : ace trappola

warnings : established relationship, aged up, bickering, insults, typical married couple, slight angst, y'all love each other trust, dialogue heavy?

a/n : i saw a tiktok about old married couples arguing and i just imagined ace having that type of relationship so thats how this fic was written

“ move, you're on my side of the couch “

Ace doesn’t even blink at your words, his eyes finding the show he’s watching much more entertaining than coming face to face with that awful frown he’s sure you have on right now. He shifts on the couch, as if looking for something.

An exasperated sigh escapes your mouth, you already know what he's planning, since you both have said the same sentence about a gazillion times already.

Ace turns back, feigned shock present on his face, “ oh no babe.. it seems I can't find your name on this specific spot on the couch! “, he lifts a hand up to ruffle his hair, acting bashful that opposes the mischievous gleam you know too well.

“Perhaps next time “-oh boy here it comes- “you should've sat down here first.” Perhaps now it's best to call up your old friends and complain as to why they allowed you to even set eyes on this man and believe him to be a good partner for the future. 

Again. For the 100th time.

So you follow their wonderful and thoughtful advice and go to whack Ace harshly his head, a harsh ‘OW’ following behind it, Ace scowls up at you, caressing the bruised spot while shuffling away from your spot, mumbling ill mouthed words and something along the lines of ‘could've asked nicely…’

‘ Score to me ‘ you think to yourself, settling comfortably in the victor's spot, your eyes drawn to the tv still playing on in the background, “ what are we watching?”

“Don't you mean what am I watching?” Despite the bitterness he felt after losing and you're cheating, he rests an arm on his cheek and goes into a lengthy ramble about the show, something about a Victorian boy making a contract with a demon. 

arguing in a shop aisle

As people scutter, they all watch curiously and awkwardly at the sight of you and Ace having a heated argument in the middle of the treats aisle, thoughts of ‘ it may be the end for them ‘ and’ I hope they can make it work ‘ pass by .

“ Ace, I am not getting the limited edition basketball treats just because you have that slim chance of getting your favourite player. Just get the regular ones which we agreed on !”

 You point an accusing finger at him, holding onto the original box of the treats you usually get, Ace looks back at you horrified and (rightfully he may add) offended at your words.

 Clutching the limited box in his arms.

 “ How can you even say such a thing?! It's not all about my favourite- which I know is in here- but have you read the flavour, it's cherry duh? The best thing in the world! “

He exclaims like it was a known fact -taunting you to retort back- a typical push and pull situation you both engage in. Your hands clench against the box, it was so Ace to always be whisked away by over the top advertising, honestly you expected more from him especially by how blunt he can be.

 His one working brain cell must have been taken over by all the stupid ones.

“We have a specific budget since we're saving to finally visit friends abroad and you want to throw all that away so i can listen to you groan about not getting the card you want and cherries?” You huff, shoving the regular box into the shopping cart, storming off to the checkout, not before adding on a “pay for it yourself”.

Ace watched your figure grow distant, frustration meddling with his head alongside guilt. You two have both been looking forward to that trip, he looks back at the shelf where the limited boxes were, face cringing up at the price as he places the box back. 

Trudging along aisles, a constant 'ignore that, ignore that' repeats in his mind at the many limited items, passing by the checkout area after (disappointingly) not finding you there, Ace has a grim thought of what if you did finally leave him, his legs seem to move quicker at that.

Memorising the way to where you parked the car, Ace sighs in relief to see you sitting in there on your phone. You leaving.. What a ridiculous thought, you and his mind must be teaming up against him to let him think that. 

Noticing Ace opening the car door, a slight acknowledgement that he isn't carrying the limited edition treats, a small smile welcomes itself on your face at that. The silence was also welcomed for a few seconds until Ace goes into a tangent of you leaving him and how it wasn't very romantic of you to do that.

The smile now replaced by a frown as you start the car, replying back with your own retorts.

"take an extra jacket, it's cold out." "Okay, mom."

You stare at Ace sternly, he calls this look ‘are you fucking serious’, one of his many favourite expressions you have. You both stood in the hallway, shoes and coats surrounding you while outside snow floated cautiously outside, the heated but stupid argument you might have soon would melt any ice.

“On second thought maybe you shouldn't take an extra jacket, you finally shut up when you're sick.”

You held back the extra jacket close to your chest, the prospect of Ace being quiet is a reward itself for all the years you’ve put up(read; been in a relationship) with him. “ Now you're sounding like my brother, going through the family tree quickly aren't you” Ace looks at you mischievously, wrapping a scarf around your neck while you straighten out his collar.

It’s the little moments that happen in between every insult, moments like these which remind you both that each still cares about each other.

“You’re brother huh? Maybe I should've gone with him, sounds like a smart guy.” You retort, an impish grin on your face as you pass the jacket to him, Ace rolls his eyes, zipping up the jacket, snorting at your word.

“Yeah right, we both know you hate him and I can't argue with you for that- remember at our wedding when he insulted me, you had a full on go at him for that!”

A look of adoration was shown on his face, quickly replaced by a gloved finger jabbing against your cheeks, “you were so cute back then now you're just mean,” he pouts.

Wafting his finger away, you sneer up at him “Pot calling the kettle black, i can't believe i actually thought you were pleasant to be around.” Shuffling on your boots, the two of you retreat out into the cold, hands meeting halfway as if it was natural.

“Excuse you, I am still pleasant to be around, otherwise you wouldn't have stuck around for 7 years.” He waves your conjoined hands in the air, winking at you coyly.

You sigh, immune to his antics by now (though others would disagree), Ace has always used the marriage card as an advantage in arguments or casual conversations, however, it was nice he still kept count.

“You trapped me with stupidly charming vows, how was i supposed to say no."

"So you still think I'm charming?"

"I hate you." (I love you)

"I hate you too." (I love you too)

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masterlist⠀ — ⠀ request here

[writeaboutit]

Damn the Chief

Firefighter Abby leaves for the weekend

Hii y'all so this is another part of my firefighter Abby x Reader fic. This was what I was originally going to write as the last fic but then it turned into their meet-cute story so here is this one I hope y'all like it <3

Warnings: none, just fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Part 1: Donation Boot

Part 3: Silly Abby Candy's for Kids

The wicker basket at your feet was full of colorful vegetables: Bell peppers, carrots, onion, lettuce leaves. You would make a salad tonight you decided.

This was the first time your garden had produced enough to make a full meal. You started it last year so it’s not surprising but you were so excited that it was actually producing now. 

You dusted the dirt off of your knees and picked up the basket hurrying around the side of the house to the open roll-top garage door. 

Inside the cavernous space, Abby was there. She was sitting on her weight-lifting bench covered in sweat and breathing heavily. 

You opened your mouth to tell her the good news about the garden, but she began speaking first. Not to you, however, no she was speaking on the phone through her AirPods you realized.

Not wanting to interrupt you took a seat on the swivel stool sitting underneath the wooden workbench Abby had built along the far side of the garage wall a year ago. A ball of fluff wagging from under the bench Abby was seated on caught your eye; Alice. 

She watched your movements and came to greet you when you patted your hand on your thigh, quietly calling the dog over to distract you while your wife finished her phone call. 

“Mhm, yeah… alright” Abby muttered into the air, her phone still in her pocket. You scratched behind Alice’s ears, the dog nuzzled into your grasp further. 

Movement to your right caught your attention and you dragged your eyes away from Alice and towards your wife who had clearly finished her phone call and now was hunched over with her elbows resting on her knees. 

Something was wrong. 

“What’s wrong?” your heart picked up speed, beating faster. 

“You two look cute.” Abby nudged her head in yours and the dog's direction. 

“Thanks. What’s wrong?” Your tone was one of no bullshit. 

Abby let out a heavy sigh, hesitating to tell you whatever news she had just gotten on the phone. 

“Abby please,” You made your way over to her and crouched down to bring you two to eye level, “You’re scaring me.” 

She looked up at you then and brushed a loose piece of hair out of your face, “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just…” her face contorted in the way it usually did when she was nervous to tell you something. 

“Chief just called and said I’m on the schedule to stay at the firehouse for the weekend.” 

Your heart sank right on down to your ass. You hated it when he called with that news. He was a good guy, you knew this, very much warm grandpa energy but god damn it seemed like every time he called he was telling your wife that she had to spend the weekend away from the house; from you. 

Yes, she was doing a good thing, being a hero and all that but you wanted your wife home. It seems like just last month she had to stay there for three nights in a row. You hated being in the house all alone. It was too quiet, and the bed was too cold. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, “Okay, do you leave tonight or tomorrow?” Your voice wobbled despite your best efforts. 

Abby’s brows scrunched in what looked like pain, “Tonight, I’m so sorry baby.” She rubbed her hands along the sides of your thighs. It was supposed to be comforting but it just made the realization that you would be spending your weekend alone all that much worse. 

You stood abruptly, “It’s okay, do you have time for dinner still?” You couldn’t look at her or you would start crying so you set to grabbing your basket and heading towards the door that led to the inside of the house. 

“Yeah I don’t have to be there until 9,” She said in a soft voice, like she didn’t know what to do. Usually, she had more time to butter you up and then drop the news; this was very abrupt. 

“Okay perfect, I’m making a salad.” With that, the door shut rather loudly behind you. You weren’t mad at Abby, you were upset at the circumstance. It wasn’t her fault she had to go in, you knew that, and that is precisely why you didn’t want her to see the tears that were now falling down your cheeks as you washed the vegetables in the sink. 

You were busy trying to calm your thoughts and tears, so busy that you didn’t hear Abby enter the house and slide up behind you. 

Her arms suddenly slithered around your waist and she rested her chin on your shoulder. 

“Please don’t be upset with me?” she whispered, her voice sounding vulnerable. 

You shut off the water and sighed before turning in her arms, “I’m not mad at you honey. I’m just sad that we don’t get the weekend together.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” She kissed your forehead. 

“You don’t need to apologize, I’m sorry that I reacted like that.” You assured her, wanting to make it clear that it wasn't her you were mad at. She could get in her head about things involving work. 

She knew that the line of work she was in could be stressful for partners too and she was always trying to put your needs first, which was unnecessary. You knew what you were getting into when you fell in love with her, it was just hard to constantly stay positive about her being away so that she could put her life on the line. 

You both looked at each other for a moment, almost as if you were sinking up after falling out of rhythm with each other for a moment. 

“How about you stay with your parents for the weekend, hm?” For a moment when she offered up the idea it sounded pleasant, you wouldn’t have to be alone. But no you couldn’t put them out like that. It was too short notice. 

“Let me put it this way,” Abby leaned in closer resting her forehead on yours, “I know that you’re thinking you don’t want to inconvenience your parents so I already called your mom and she said she’d love to have you for the weekend.” 

That made your heart jump, Abby always thinking ahead. She knew you too well. 

“Really?” you asked. You should be shocked that she took the initiative but you weren’t she always knew how you were feeling; what you were thinking. 

“Yes, really. So how about we eat dinner and then I’ll drive you and Alice over to their house so you and your mom can have a movie night?” 

You smiled, “Yeah, that sounds good.” It would be like you were in high school again, cuddled on the couch watching a romcom in your childhood home. 

“Okay good,” She smiled down at you, glad she could turn your spirits around. 

You gave a quick kiss to her lips and then swatted her with the towel in your hands, “Well get out of my kitchen so I can chop up the veggies,” 

She caught the towel and dragged you to her, “Yes chef,” she whispered against your lips. 

_____

Abby threw your duffle bag and Alice’s dog bag into the bed of her truck and rounded to the driver's seat. The engine roared to life while Alice lay on the bench seat in the back wagging her tail. 

As Abby drove you softly mumbled the lyrics to the song playing over the radio. It wasn’t a long drive to your parent's house, and sooner than you liked she pulled up in that all too familiar driveway. You were excited to see your mom but this meant you had to say goodbye to the woman you loved. 

Just as she shut off the engine, the front door opened, your mom was standing in the warm glow of the light from the inside of the house. You couldn’t help but giggle at how excited she looked. You needed to come over more often. 

You got out at the same time as Abby. She grabbed the bags while you accepted your mom's bear hug. 

“Hi sweetie,” She squeezed you tight. 

“Hi, mom.” 

“No, I wasn’t talking to you,” Your mom joked as she shoved you aside from the hung and gave a similar one to Abby who still had the bags in her hands. 

Abby laughed. You swear your mom loved her more than she did you. You couldn’t really blame her though, what was not to love about Abby? 

You watched as Abby made her way into the house and chatted with your mom about work and life. 

You remember being so afraid to come out to your parents in high school. You thought they would view you differently, and treat you differently. Well now here you are stood with your wife in their kitchen. Them comfortably talking about the mundane things in life. 

“You want me to put these in your room?” Your wife's question brought you out of your thoughts. 

“Sure. Mom you want to watch a movie?” You asked already heading down the hallway. 

“Sure, I’ll find one while you guys do your thing.” She answered. Doing your thing meaning saying your goodbyes. Suddenly that wave of sadness came crashing back down as Abby opened the door to your childhood room. 

She set the bags down on your bed as Alice lept up and curled into a ball right on top of the pillows. 

“Don’t look at me like that baby,” Abby said pulling you into her chest. 

“I’m sorry,” it was muffled. 

“I’ll call you every night and I’ll be back on Sunday to pick you up.” She rubbed her hands up and down your bicep as she spoke. 

“I know,” You whispered looking up at her finally. 

She placed a kiss on the tip of your nose, “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too,” You kissed her lips softly, savoring these last few minutes. 

Abby dragged in a deep breath and took a step back, “Come on you’ve got a movie night to attend to.” She turned you in the direction of the door and placed a light tap against your bum. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, leave it to your wife to cut the tension with something sexual. 

Alright, y'all it is past my bedtime when writing this so hopefully, the mistakes aren't too crazy. Anyway, thank you for reading <3 Tags: @grey-jedi12

[fictionalreads]

This Was Never Meant to Be What It Feels Like (Part 2)

A/N: Soooooo I couldn't help myself. Ya'll really showed me love on part one and it encouraged me to write this part. I'll admit this isn't my favorite piece of writing but it's necessary cause it sets up part 3😅 Give me a few days at least for that one though. Hope y'all like it. 18+/Minors DNI

Part 1 Part 3

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Original Female Character

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Song I listened to while writing: Back To Love by Robert Glasper featuring SiR and Alex Isley.

Prompt: It's been six months since Armando left Shay but things feel unfinished for him.

Warnings ⚠️: Talk of smut (y'all I can't write that shit, I tried and it was trash so I just talk around it)

Armando was only supposed to be in LA for a couple days. He was still a wanted man and he didn’t exactly enjoy putting himself at risk of being caught, but it was unavoidable. A contact had needed a job done and since being on the run, he wasn’t afforded the option of being picky when it came to money. Besides, Martinez had been helpful in getting him jobs so he considered the extra risk a favor.

Nobody wanted to work with a snitch. 

It didn’t matter that the feds had him serving life and he was just trying to survive, hopefully shave off enough time to not die in a cell. He was a rat and had nothing but enemies on both sides. Mierda, his parents had really screwed him over. His mother had ensured he would always be seen as a criminal and his father had ensured every criminal saw him as a traitor. He was destined for a life of solitude. 

Then he met Shay.

He had been eating at a restaurant frequented by his target, canvassing the place, when he heard her laugh. Usually he would ignore other patrons as he did his job but there was something so uninhibited about the sound that it captivated him. He looked up to find the source and saw her head thrown back in obvious joy, curly hair flowing freely behind her. Her eyes were damn near shut, smile big and bright. 

He was in LA for work but a little play never hurt anybody so he had his waitress send a drink to her and watched as he was pointed out. She lifted the drink he sent in a silent thanks and he raised his glass back, nodding at her with a smirk. He was aware when she had left and he finished his own meal and work soon after. He was unsurprised to find her waiting outside for him. That was the beginning of them.

He had thought once he had slept with her, they would both be satisfied and she’d be out of his system. A win-win situation, truly. But there was something about her that had him acting stupid. After he took care of Martinez’s problem, he laid low for a week, letting the heat die down. When it was safe enough to go back to Mexico, he just…didn’t. Instead he went and found her. He expected to have to work for it seeing as he left in the middle of the night and didn’t call for a week, but she let him back in.

So instead of going home like he should have, like he would have if he was smart, he stayed for her. He knew he should get the hell outta dodge, but he wanted to know her. So he called Martinez and picked up a couple more jobs he needed done out in LA and the surrounding area. When he wasn’t working he learned everything about her like it was his job, careful to never give her any real information, steering the conversation back to her every time. He was enchanted by her beauty, enthralled by her passion. Everything he learned about her got him closer to that dreaded L word.

Then he fucked up.

It had been three months of playing this dangerous game when she asked about him. He kew the day would come eventually when she wouldn’t allow him to just brush off her questions but he was somehow still unprepared and suspicious of her motives when it came. She had asked to know about his parents and he should’ve just fed her some bullshit story but he just got quiet. He realized he wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know him, the real him, and still choose him. So he had told her an edited version of his parents, only to immediately realize his mistake. He didn’t want to, but he was going to have to leave.

So after fucking out his feelings, he left. He went back to Mexico and told himself to forget about her. Except he couldn’t get her out of his head. For six months he was constantly reminded of her. Every woman that flirted with him was compared to her, every one of them coming up short. Every time he smelled shea butter and coconut, he thought of her freshly showered. Every time he needed a release, he pictured her blissed out face, his hand not nearly as good as the real thing. So he did something even dumber than staying in LA for three months.

He went back.

He watched her for a few days, Shay never knowing he was there. He watched as she went out with friends. He watched as they encouraged her when some fucker had the audacity to step to her and flirt. He watched as she went on a date with the man. A better man would have taken that as a sign that she had moved on and he should too, but he never claimed to be a better man. He watched as she gave restricted smiles, restricted laughs and came to the conclusion that this ‘date’ wasn’t doing it for her.

So he left them at the basic ass restaurant the guy chose and went to her apartment to wait for her. He found his way inside like he used to and set up on her armchair, turning on her lamp so as not to completely scare her. He waited almost an hour before he heard her keys in the door.

She clocked the light being on the second she walked in the door. 

To prevent her from running and calling the cops because she didn’t know it was him, he spoke, “hola Amorcita.”

“Armando?” She question in disbelief.

He stood and took in his fill of her before telling her what he’d been thinking all night, “you look beautiful. Nice night?”

She shut the door behind her and cautiously stepped past the kitchen to reach the living room. She was still too far, standing at the edge of her breakfast bar across the room. Why wouldn’t she come closer? On one hand, she could be pissed that he left her for six months. Something told him it wasn’t that though. If she was pissed she wouldn’t be trying to keep herself as far from him as possible, as if out of reach. No, instead she’d probably get close enough to slap him. A heartbreaking realization hit him. “Are you afraid of me now, Amorcita?”

Shay stood tall, facing him head on. “Your rap sheet says I should be,” she bit out.

There it was. The confirmation she knew who he was now, that there would be no more hiding behind omissions of truth. He tilted his head in contemplation, “that’s not what I asked.” Was she not phased by who he was? Or was she just biding her time?

When she didn’t say anything else, he slowly walked to her. He could feel the energy in the room shift and amplify. He still wasn’t sure if she was gonna knee him and run or invite his touch. He wasn’t sure if he could take the betrayal from her, but he would understand. Any sane person would run from the likes of him.

When he stood mere inches from her he ghosted his fingers over her arm, noticing her intake of breath. “Are you afraid of me now, Amorcita?” He repeated, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

Shay looked up, her eyes meeting his, “no.”

“Maybe you should be,” he brokenly admitted.

She lifted a hand to cradle his face, “You’ll never hurt me that way.” She said it so surely, as if she could see into him, see his soul. There was no doubt in her voice, her sureness both a surprise that she felt that way and a relief that she understood.

It didn’t escape his notice, however, that she was very distinct in her words. He may not have hurt her physically but he had hurt her all the same.

“I’m sorry for leaving, Alma.” He turns his head to place a kiss on her palm.

She gave him a slight smile. “I get why you did.”

“Doesn’t mean it hurt you any less or make me any less sorry.” He placed his hands on her waist, pulling her even closer, her hands going around his neck. Her scent took over his senses, clouding his thoughts.

She didn’t refute what he said, just reached up to press her lips gently against his in a quiet acceptance. When she pulled back he stared into her eyes, wondering if this was real, wondering how she could be real. He saw nothing but the love he wished he could keep. Unable to stop himself, he drew her in for a longer more passionate kiss. It was slow as if they had all the time in the world, or rather if time and the rest of the world didn’t exist. He hoped she felt the words he couldn’t say aloud.

He felt her hands stop their playing in his short hair and move towards his shirt buttons. Before she got to the first one, he pulled back and held her hands in his own, needing to tell her, owing her and her loving heart the truth.

“I can’t stay.”

Eye to eye, love and determination shining bright in hers, she whispered, “I know.”

From there, clothes shed quickly and they made their way to the bedroom. They both knew this was a goodbye, closure for them both. Their last attempt at an ending had felt lacking, like there was more to be said. This time it was all laid out in front of them. Emotions may not have been said but they were felt and known, the reality of their situation acknowledged.

This time they would both take what they needed, giving them a more satisfying conclusion.

After she fell asleep he fixed his gaze on her white ceiling, wishing things could be different for them, wishing he could stay and give her the life she deserved rather than a few memories she’ll hopefully look back on with fondness. He allowed himself a few minutes more of wishful thinking and soaking in the feeling of being with her. When it came time to leave, he hated himself for it, but he laid her on the bed and quietly collected his things. Finding a pen and a scrap piece of paper, he scribbled out a note for her, leaving it where he should have been laying next to her. He spared one last look at her before leaving her for good this time.

If you ever need anything, find Detective Mike Lowrey. Miami PD.

-A

A/N: How we feeling about this part? Let me know what your favorite line was in the comments! Don't be shy with the comments and reblogs, they motivate me. Likes are appreciated too!

Translations:

Mierda - Shit/Damn

Amorcita - Little Love

Alma - Soul/soulmate

Taglist: If you request to be on the taglist, you're agreeing that you're 18 or older.

@yeahnohoneybye

[sparda-soully]

Disturbance of the Peace

Parents Fyolai x adopted, daughter! reader

Headups: Strictly PLATONIC with reader! Fyodor and Nikolai are husbands bc yes. Fyodor, Nikolai, and some other characters may be OOC so I apologize for that. Just silly fun with the Dostoevsky-Gogol Family!!

Just writing this to highlight the fluff, found family troupe and totally not bc my husband (ahem, Fukuzawa) was like that in the latest chapter 😇. Hope you enjoy this!!

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Sounds of water were dripping against the acrylic sink. Soon, a brushing noise was followed afterwards. In the mirror, a young girl — who looked about seven years old — was seen brushing her teeth with a light blue toothbrush. Her outfit was pajamas with tiny strawberries scattered across her pants. She carefully move her toothbrush back and forth in small strokes as to not damage her gums; father said to be careful after all!....Although papa highly encouraged her to do so as it was supposedly "fun". Yeah right.

Getting every nook and cranny of her teeth, she gathered water into a small cup, raising it to her lips. She tooked a gulp of water, swirling and gargling the water mixed with the toothpaste before spitting the fluid out. Then, filling her palms with the lukewarm water, she washed her face, relinquishing the sudden warmth. The faucet turned, shutting the water off. With her eyes closed, she fiddled her fingers around, trying to feel where she left her towel at. Upon reaching the area she left it at, her fingers didn't made any contact with the soft material.

——————

'...That's weird. I thought I put it here', you thought, finally opening your eyes. You ignored the wetness that was drenched on your face in favor of searching for your towel. Your e/c eyes stared at the marble countertop, blinking in confusion as the realization caught up to you. The towel where you originally placed it at was missing, making you utterly perplexed. "...Huh..?", you mumbled, standing there.

You were sure you placed it there; there was no way it disappeared! Unless if it was–. As if you finally caught on about the mysterious disappearance of your towel, a voice called behind you. "Why hello little dove! How is my favorite girl doin'?", an eccentric voice inquired. Turning around, you were greeted with your papa, Nikolai bending down at your height. His visible bluish grey eye pierced directly into your e/c eyes, seemingly staring into your soul.

"папа..?", you said his name which earn you a bigger smile. Frenzied, exotic laughter erupted from his lips, sharp teeth made its appearance. "Bingo! That's me", he cheered, still staring straight at you without blinking. His smile etched further on his face, stretching across cheeks until it finally reached its limit. The two of you maintained eye contact, not breaking it at all as if the two of y'all were cats quietly sneaking up upon your prey.

Silence loomed over the two of you until you decided to break it. "What are you doing here?", you asked, finally blinking which made you lose the game the two of you were silently engaged in. Hearing your question, your papa swiftly stand back up in a dramatic way. "Oh poor me! My own daughter doesn't want to see me, how utterly terrible! You don't care about your dear old dad? Who could've raise such monster", he whined, placing his hands over his heart as he wore a crestfallen expression.

"Eh? No! I mean–What are you doing back home early? You and отец were busy with Uncle Sigma and Grandpa with something", you mentioned. Immediately, Nikolai's expression shifted into a beaming one. "Well we're finished now! So come on and let's play some games. Ooo, how about Go Fish, Patty Cake? Or how about Stab the Jester? It's your favorite!", he sprouted game suggestions. Your papa was big on the idea of games, after all kids your age were supposed to enjoy their youth so here comes the introduction of games! Although, they all have his own little spin of his twisted mind especially that last one but we don't talk about that! That's for later.

Your eyes sparkled, practically beaming at the idea of playing your favorite game, Stabbing the Jester. You wished you could played but unfortunately, one you had school tomorrow and two you still have to find your lost towel. Giving your papa a sad smile, you slowly shook your head which made him have a confused look. His daughter never turned down his amazing ideas so why now?

"Sorry papa, but I have school tomorrow. You know, father will scold me and you if he catches us playing games this late at night", you explained, giving him an apologetic look. It was true, your father was strict and stern when it came to your studies, wanting you to sleep early and study to exceed your brilliant intelligence further. It was a significant contrast to your papa who was the whimsical, quirky parent that spoils their child rotted. "Ugh who cares what Fedya said? We'll keep it a secret, pinky promise!", he proposed, lifting his pinky and wiggling it in the air, eagerly encouraging you to entangled your pinky with his. As tempting as it was, you still didn't want to face your father's wrath.

Still, you shook your head which made Nikolai pouted, his eyes narrowing at your declination. "No thanks, I don't wanna deal with father's punishment. Besides I need to find my towel...", you gazed around, trying to search for your towel. Hearing that you were looking for your towel, Nikolai's face suddenly faltered into a cheeky, evil smirk. His teeth flashed at you as a glint of anticipation and excitement glimmered in his bluish eye. Uh oh. Before you could speak, he cuts you off with a big grin.

"Quiz time!", those two words made you mentally groaned to yourself. If he's doing one of his quiz, that means he has an answer to it. "Where do you think you put your towel at?", he inquired, putting his pinky finger down. He brought his hands behind his back, letting his black and white cape draped over him. A mischievous expression formed on his face, tugging his lips into a big smile. "It was on the counter but it's gone...so that means y-", before you could finished, your papa interrupted you.

"Ding Ding Ding! Did you say I used my ability? Well you're indeed correct my маленький ангел!", he spoiled the answer out of his own excitement that was surging within him. You sighed, already fed up with his antics. Glancing up at him, you gave him a look which made him chuckled. Nikolai was amused by your behavior; he wanted to spend time with you right now since he was practically gone by the moment you woke up because the Decay of Angels had a meeting all of a sudden. So, he'll do whatever it is to keep you and himself entertain, even if that meant preventing you from getting sleep.

You were about to ask him to give it back when you felt something soft patting your cheek. Averting your eyes to your right, you saw an orange portal with Nikolai's dark magenta glove grasping the towel. He gently wiped your wet face with slow strokes as if you were a delicate kitten. You noticed your papa's visible eye softened with a look of content and love swirling in them. It was a rare sight to see your papa like this, deep in a trance while gently taking care of you like any good parent would for their kids.

After he dried your face, he bop your nose, shooting a wink at you which made you giggle. He deactivated his ability, placing the towel back on the counter. Briskly, he scooped you into his arms, lifting you and tossing you up in the air. High pitched squeals and laughter escaped from you when you were latched in the air. As he threw you up in the air, he skillfully and efficiently moved out of the bathroom and into your bedroom while tossing you up and down like a ragdoll. It was a normal occurrence for you and your papa; yeah it wasn't ideal and was dangerous for numerous reasons but if you're happy and having fun, then he'll continued toss you in the air just for you to be a free bird spreading its wings and soaring through the air. This process repeated for some time, disturbing your sleep schedule.

It seems like that high pitched noises and laughter drawn another person's presence. Footsteps stride towards your bedroom with precise, fluent movement. A pale hand grasped your doorknob, turning it to the side before opening it fully. I guess the fits of excitement drowned the noise of someone coming in. "Y/n. Koyla", a monotone voice made you and your papa directed y'all's gaze towards the man standing by the doorway. Instantly, Nikolai stopped throwing you in the air, still carrying you in his arms. A surprised gaze washed over his face as your hands clutched your papa's two-toned jacket. Your heart skipped a beat, sweat dripped down your brow as you stared at your father in a look that children gave to their parents when they did something wrong.

Sharp, dark purple eyes glared at you, making you shy away from him. You buried your face into your papa's clothes, wrinkling his attire greatly. "Nikolai, why are you pestering our child with your foolish antics? It's passed her bed time", his thick Russian accent accentuate his sterness. His husband just blinked at his words, slightly pouting at his serious partner; readjusting you in his arms, he made sure you weren't fully looking at your father. "But Fedya! It's only 9:30 pm, and I haven't seen my favorite dove at all! Just let us have some father-daughter time for a bit", he whined, drastically swaying his body from side to side. Fydor just stared, unfazed by his actions or whiny voice. This was the man he choose to married...so of course he'll be used to his tomfoolery.

"No. She has school tomorrow", your father begins to sauntered towards you two. His long coat fell behind him with each stride he took. He gave Nikolai a look, but Nikolai still had you in his arms, refusing to give you to him. Your father sighs at the stubborn man. "Koyla, do you want her to be sleepy in class?", he asked, making him pondered. Eventually, he slowly shook his head no. Yes he was a deranged man but he still cared about your health! You were just a small dove, having lack of sleep could possibly hindered your performance of soaring through the sky, something he greatly feared. Finally acknowledging defeat, he gazed back at you, pulling your face off from his wrinkled buttoned up jacket.

"Ah I guess you're right, having a sleepy bird wouldn't be so good now will it? So it's time to return back to the nest for some proper rest!", he exclaimed with a smile returning back to his face. Nikolai carried you to your bed, ready to place you down and tuck you in, but your father interfered. "Koyla, you should go. I'll tuck her to bed", he asserted. Hearing his words, Nikolai felt shock that Fyodor suggested such thing; I mean, he should tuck you in, clearly he's the better parent when it came to "sleeping"....Or so he claims, in fact he isn't the ideal person of tucking a small child to bed without telling some stories that will leave them up at night.

"Eh, why not?! I'm perfectly capable of putting her to sleep!", he pulls you futher into his embrace, refusing to let you go. Of course he'll be on the offense side right now. "Remember the last time you tuck her into bed? You told her a story that made her have nightmares for a few days. She was forced to sleep in our room. I won't let that happen again", Fyodor's remark made Nikolai shot a glare at him.

"Hey it was funny!". "Not to her though".

You knew that your papa will go back and forth with your father over this small issue, so you tugged on his jacket, causing him to averted his attention to you. "Papa, I want отец to tuck me to bed", your comment made Nikolai sulk. You wanted your father more than him? Haha! What a funny joke...right? "Oh how cruel of you! You just broke my heart into millions of pieces! Such a ferocious mouth you have. So you would rather hang out with your father than me?", he begins his drama cries, hoping you'll fall for it. Unfortunately for him, you were so smart for your age that the guilt tripping didn't fazed you. "No, I didn't say that. I just want father to tucked me to bed", you clarified, earning you a huff. "Fine...But just know I'm getting you out of school early tomorrow!", he declared, staring directly at you which made you smiled a bit. "No Nik-". "Alright папа! Let's play tons of games tomorrow!", you beamed in excitement with the thought of getting picked up early.

Fyodor wanted to say no, but with the two of y'all already chatting about plans tomorrow, he decided to let this slide just this once. His eyes still remained on his husband, urging him to say his goodbyes just so they could talk alone. Seeing his husband's hidden message, Nikolai quickly tossed you up in the air one last time before pulling you into a bone crushing embrace which made it harder for you to breath. Sensing the sudden lack of air you had, he loosen his clutches around you. "Ah goodnight my little angel! Sleep tight and let song birds drifted you to sleep", with his final goodnight, he ruffles your hair a bit before giving you to your father. He gave one more look at his loving family before exiting out of the room leaving you two alone.

You were now in your father's arms, glancing up at him with a glimpse of wonder and nervousness shining in your eyes. Dark purple eyes stared back at you as his grip around him was gentle compare to your papa's. You wanted to say something but couldn't because of your thoughts blaring and tainting your mind with negativity about your father's disappointment of not following his words. As if he knew the internal conflict stirring within you, he spoke up. "It's alright, маленький ангел", he reassured you, slowly placing you down on the soft mattress. He pulled the blanket over you, letting the new found warmth consumed you. Still, you felt bad that you went against your father's words. Your eyes were glue on the dark red blanket, fingers firmly gripping the cozy material.

"...I know but still. I could've told papa I was heading to bed, instead I gotten distract", your mouse like voice made him hum. You didn't get an instant response from your father which made you more tense. Will he have an outburst just like others before when you didn't follow their orders?...No, you shouldn't think about them, they didn't matter now. You have father and papa now and that's all that matters, you're safe.

"Like I said, it's alright. There's no need to fret over something minor like that. You're just a child. I don't expect you to be sharp with your time", he raised his hand and carefully patted your head. The unexpected affection made you staggered, unable to process what just happen. You calmed your breaths, letting yourself relaxed at the sudden weight bestowed on your head. It felt nice to endured, experienced even especially since your father wasn't a man who displayed affection often. His reassureness and touch seemingly eased you down enough that your worries begin to leisurely slip away from your mind and heart.

"However, that doesn't mean I'll let this slide though", he reprimanded which you expected. Your father was the strictest out of your family, but he means well; he has his own way of showing that he cares and one of them was being strict. "You'll be accompanying me after school. There you will write and speak in Russian as well as Ukrainian and you must perform them in front of me. Do you understand?", his expression never faltered from his neutral look. He maintained his respectful composure and spoke in a professional, authoritative manner that accentuated his place as a parent.

You listened with keen ears, indulging his words carefully. "Mhm, I understand, father", you muttered with a small nod. Finally, you spared a glimpse at your father's dark purple eyes. It was refreshing seeing him again; the calm voids of his eyes made you feel better. His eyes told so much more than his words and body language. Concern clouded his eyes, yet his body posture was straight and firm as if nothing happened. The phrase, "Eyes don't lie", truly can described who your father was.

"Y/n, I'm not angry at you", he adds again, hoping those words go through that thick skull of yours. "You went along with Koyla's antics because you missed him. You missed us and I apologize for not spending much time with you lately", he brushed the strands away from your face so he could see your expression. Your eyes shot opened with your lips agape. At first, you couldn't speak due to this but alas, words finally spilled from your mouth. "It's okay, отец. Work has been keeping you and papa busy", you said.

You never knew what your dads did for work as it wasn't your business. Although, you visit their supposed based before and sat in your father's lap as he did some stuff on his computer. Sometimes, your grandpa will take you away and make the Hunting Dogs watched you while he and your family do some...work. "How about I'll take you to one of those new cafe that recently opened up? The one you keep pestering us about", he asked which made you immediately deepen your gaze on him. "REALLY!? You'll take me?", you tossed the blanket off of you, now sitting up on your knees. Eyes sparkled in anticipation, waiting for his answer.

Chuckles erupted from him due to your outburst. "Of course. It'll be you and I. I'll sent Koyla to do something with Sigma", he said, making you more excited. It looked like you were about to burst any minute with enthusiasm fueling your body. "But you need to go to sleep. You have school tomorrow", being reminded of school, you sulked. You didn't want to go to that dreadful place with a bunch of average kids; you were much better than them evident to your straight A's on your report cards and test. You wanted to hang out with your family, but it looks like that was only possible after school and on weekends. Oh well, at least you were gonna be having much fun with your parents this week!

Fyodor begins to tuck you in again much to your disappointment. The clock on your wall read 9:42, about a good 12 minutes has passed since your small scolding happened. When your Russian father pulled the blacket over your small body, he was about to leave when your fingers gripped his white shirt. "Hm? What is it?", he looked back at you with a confused look. "Can you read me a bed time story...?", you gave him your best puppy dog eyes. "But it's passed your bed time-". "Pleassssseeee", you pleaded, still tugging on his shirt relentlessly. With a sigh, he turned around, sauntering back towards you.

This action made your lips curled upwards. You let go of his shirt, pulling the blanket further on you. Fyodor headed towards your book shelf, scanning at each book before landing on one of them that caught his eye. He pulled it out, staring at the cover as he walked back towards you. Pulling out a chair, he sat down in a close yet far away distance. "Is this good?", he showed you the book. You observed the book with wonder and interest and with a smile, you nod.

Getting a confirmation, he read off the title and author, crediting them before opening the book. Soon, the once quiet air was filled with a thick Russian accent. The way he pronounced each words gave a calming effect as if soothing you to sleep. Flipping through page after page, he read each line with clarity and sharpness. His quiet yet soothing voice was making you droopy. You felt yourself gradually shifting back and forth to the dream world and the real world. Alas, your eyelids touched each other, making your eyelashes act like closed gates. Small snores escaped your mouth and you finally succumb to a deep slumber.

And as soon as your father said those fairytale words, you were completely knock out. You nuzzled against your blanket, seeking its warmth with great possessiveness. Fyodor's lips twitched into a small smile; he closed the book, standing up before returning the book back onto its original position on the shelf. He slide the chair back to its place by your table, and he loomed over you. Seeing how peaceful and innocent you look, a soft, tender glint glimmered in his eyes. You were just a child after all of this, a child in this God forsaken world. After everything that happened to you, you still acted like a child regardless of your past.

He swore he'll changed this world by completing his goal: a world without ability users. He will carried out God's will and fulfilled his dream to ensure his daughter's innocence and prevent losing his husband. Bending down, he kissed your forehead before reciting a little prayer to you. He stood up, fixing up your blanket to make sure you were warm enough. He strolled towards the door, hands already on the doorknob. He took one last glimpse at your sleeping figure. "Goodnight, маленький ангел", he muttered, turning the lights off before exiting out of your room and closing the door behind him.

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Merry Christmas y'all! Hope you all are having an amazing Christmas! And if yall don't celebrate it, then Happy Holidays! ^ ^

I just wanted to write something Bungo Stray Dogs related as I'm getting back into this silly show/manga. (Please I just wanted to do something platonic and fluff bc of the latest chapters occurring in the bsd manga 🥲)

All rights reserved!! | Please do not steal, claim, or plagiarized this as I put a lot of effort into this | Dec. 25, 2024 | ©Sparda-Soully

[leighsartworks216]

In The Moonlight

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Lowkey wrote this for @niermortem bc the Astarion hyperfixation goes hard

I've never written for Astarion before and I'm still not 100% comfortable with his speech patterns and stuff but I had to write this or I would not be able to sleep tonight. Tbh y'all are lucky he even spoke at all. I was going to have Tav shush him lmao

Warnings: Cazador, mentions of past abuse, mentions of biting, vague implications of sex, like one swear

Word Count: 1,110

Masterlist

AO3

He’s so beautiful, just like this. The moon reaches through the window and caresses his hair, turning already-bright white into pure starlight. His pale skin glows. And when the sun rises and casts beams of yellow-orange over him, it’s almost as if blood flows through him once more.

You cannot sleep. Despite how tired your body was, your mind couldn’t sit still. It pondered over the day’s events - if you made the right choices, what you could have done better, your companions - endlessly spiraling out of sleep’s embrace. And you would still have been going over these questions and concerns, if Astarion did not look so damn pretty.

He fell asleep a while ago. With a gentle kiss to your cheek and a whisper of thanks, he’d tucked one arm under his head and draped the other across your waist, and drifted off. A hint of a smile still lingered there. Creases by his mouth and eyes proving a simple joy that followed him into his dreams.

It felt wrong to watch him like this. Like studying how his curls fell across his forehead and the flicker of his eyes behind his eyelids was in some way betraying his trust. The thought alone - of ruining this beautiful foundation of trust and patience and understanding - should have been enough to have you close your eyes or turn away. And yet, something inside you yearned for more. An ache in your chest that urged you to touch him, to be closer to him.

And the urge was stronger than your perceived guilt.

Slowly, you raised a hand to his face. At first, all you did was brush the curl from his forehead. The stubborn thing only bounced right back.

Your eyes trailed from his hair to his eyebrows. So often did a crease find its way between them, pinched in frustration or confusion. Your hand followed. With the barest brush of your thumb, you smoothed out the imaginary crease. Astarion breathed in deeply - causing you to hold your own - before sighing softly. His face relaxed even more, shoulders easing into the pillows that cushioned him.

You focused next on his eyes. Deep, bloody red irises hidden behind thin lids that held so much worry and uncertainty and joy and hope. Hope. It had taken so long for the vampire to actually be optimistic about the future. He had no idea what would happen next - between Cazador and the tadpoles, there was little to be optimistic about. When you helped him, despite his original plans to manipulate and use you, he realized things did not always have such awful outcomes. Even your first encounter, with his blade to your throat, had somehow brought you here, together and warm and safe.

Despite being an elf, he had such deep bags beneath his eyes. Even the crows feet and laugh lines that appeared with his smile were unusual. He’d told you sparingly about his life under Cazador. The things he fed on, the poem carved into his back, and the horrible things he did. Undoubtedly, the lines came from that time. Barely eating enough to survive, luring people in with his charms for an uncaring master, being tortured in the dark. Yet, you couldn’t imagine Astarion without them. He was so pretty when he smiled.

You move on to his nose and his cheeks. His features are all well defined, sharp. It makes him seem dangerous, even at a first glance. Like a snake, hiding fangs behind shimmering scales.

Beckoned by the analogy, your eyes flicker to his lips. They’re so soft, despite the way he chews his bottom lip. Where before his kisses were rough, demanding, now they’re slow, careful. He no longer kisses you like he has to woo you over and get you to play his game. He kisses you like he’s savoring the last drop of wine. Even his bites are gentler, pricking your neck as carefully as he can unless you ask him nicely to be rougher.

“Too distracted to sleep, are we?”

His voice makes you jolt. You weren’t expecting his lips to move so suddenly. Nor did you realize before how your hand cupped his jaw and your thumb stroked his cheek. You can feel his smile as he chuckles.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, my dear,” he coos. “But don’t you think it’s a bit late to be admiring my features?”

You take a moment to compose yourself, urging your heart to still from the scare. Damn you for thinking so much about his mouth. Astarion is nice enough to wait and listen as you relax once more, though you continue to trace over his skin and brush the curls in front of his ears back.

“I couldn’t sleep. And you look so beautiful in the moonlight.”

He slips his arm from underneath his head as he turns into your hand, holding your wrist in place as he kisses your palm. “I appreciate it, my love. But it’s been a long and exhausting day, and we both need our beauty rest.”

Red eyes watch, half-lidded, as you smile - he loves it just as much as you love his. Before, he couldn’t care less. Now, oh the things he would do to see you happy every waking moment of the rest of your lives.

The blankets shift against each other as you move to be closer. You tuck yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his neck. You are so warm. He lets out a soft breath as he curls around you, protective and safe all at once. Slender fingers tangle carefully into the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping your head tucked away under his chin.

For so long, he charmed and manipulated people. They touched and got close to him, in ways he quickly detached himself from. For so long. It was still difficult to fathom how he sought it out with you. How he did not go through the motions of physical intimacy, how he actually wanted to be physically intimate in more ways than just sexually. How long he’d been deprived of something genuine like this. He wanted to savor every gods-forsaken minute of it.

Your warm breath fanned across his neck as you spoke. Had he been able to, it would have sent a chill down his spine.

“I love you.”

His fingers curl into your waist, grounding himself into your body as your skin gives under his fingertips. In return, you squeeze him in your hold, solidifying even more that this is real. You are real.

“I love you, too, darling.”

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Ship Of Dreams 🚢 | Twilight Imagine

Set during the events between New Moon and Eclipse & after Breading Dawn Part 2

Twilight Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Cullen!reader (female), Bella Swan-Cullen (platonic), Edward Cullen (adoptive ‘twin’ brother), the Cullen family (platonic/adoptive family), family OC!s, Alex Mason!oc (past romance)

Content Warnings: major angst, smoking, details of historical event disaster, profanity, descriptions of stalking and death | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 9.4k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Bella Swan always wondered what the story was of her vampire boyfriend’s so called ‘twin’ sister. Quiet and reserved, she had a mysterious aura to her, and what many would describe as a lady lost in time. Though she appeared no older than the age of 17, Y/n Cullen had eyes that saw a multitude of lives. Though in April 2006, the anniversary of a fateful night, finally reveals the truth behind the ‘youngest’ Cullen’s history with the Ship of Dreams.

Note: I had this Twilight x Titanic work in the making for two years 💀😭 back when I visited the Titanic Museum in 2023! I had done the TGM x Titanic AU and immediately started working on this but then, as usual, I got hyperfixated on other things and pushed this to the back burner...but anyway hope y'all like this! ❤️ also I cried writing the hospital scene. I mean I literally had to pause and gather myself at times while writing it because I was making myself so sad.

———————————

April 2006

In the year since becoming involved with Edward Cullen and learning of the secret he and his family share, Bella had yet to uncover the story of his ‘twin’ by name and nature, Y/n.

Calling them twins was a far reach. Sure they had the same golden eyes and inhumanly beautiful physique, but that was it. Unlike Rosalie and Jasper who were blonde and could easily pass as twin siblings, Y/n and Edward appeared nothing alike save for the tiny detail they shared the same birthday of June 20th and were both turned at the age of 17. But whereas Edward was born in the year 1901, Y/n’s was 1895��the same year Esme was born. 

Bella only learned this by doing the math, after Edward let it slip Y/n was technically six years older than him. 

Like Alice and Jasper, Y/n had not been turned by Carlisle but, to Bella’s surprise, was the first to join his coven. Well before Edward came into the picture. When asked about this, following Edward’s explanation of Carlisle’s origin to her the night she visited his home for the first time, Edward plainly stated with a look she couldn’t decipher, “You’d have to ask her, it’s not my story to tell.”

But Bella never could bring herself to ask. Y/n’s exterior was as cold as Rosalie’s. Guarded and reserved. Quiet to the point she hardly added input during times the Cullen’s faced conflict. Always glued to a corner, hidden from the shadows. One glare was enough to send goosebumps along Bella’s arm. Understanding it’d be better to either not know Y/n’s story all together or silently hope one of the Cullen’s would tell her. Since it was obvious the vampire was going to keep her secrets to herself. 

Well….she was hoping to. 

“We can’t watch it here,” Edward’s voice was serious. More serious than ever, causing confusion to etch Bella’s face, taking the DVD case from Edward with a frown. It was a movie she’d seen a handful of times, a classic and one she thoroughly enjoyed whenever it played on TV. The only reason she was suggesting it now for their weekly movie night was for an assignment her history teacher gave on the historical event it was based on considering the upcoming anniversary was the following week.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have a DVD player.”

“I do,” he rolls his eyes, yet still carries the serious strain of his tone “but we can’t watch that here. We’ll go to your place.”

Her frown deepened, a little annoyed with the vampire changing their plans considering she drove all the way out to his. “I don’t understand, Edward….why is it so much of a big deal to watch Titanic here.” 

Lightening fast, Edward held a hand up, freezing the two in their places while Bella watched him turn his head to face the open doorway. Tilting it slightly as though to strain his hearing. When it appeared whatever coast was clear, he let out a breath of relief before facing her again, noting her visible confusion. “I’ll explain everything once we get to your house. I promise just…” he pleads with his eyes, gently taking the DVD once again to tap at the title Titanic with his finger, “don’t mention this when we’re here or in front of my family.”

The entire drive was quiet. Save for the soft remedy of the radio. The music gave Bella the distraction she needed to not say anything about what took place in Edward’s bedroom until they reached her house. All the while she replayed the moment in her head, followed by how eerie the Cullen house became right after the famous ship’s name spilled from her lips.

Titanic.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” She did not hesitate the second they entered, hanging her coat on the hanger and moving past him to set up the DVD player. She heard his sigh, igniting her annoyance, “you promised me an explanation.”

She felt his presence behind her, then a second later Edward kneeled to her level and took the DVD once more.

“You once asked me about Y/n,” he began, eyes lowered to the ground, “What her story was and how she was the first to join Carlisle” Gold met brown, his gaze shifting upward, while holding the disk cover up. “This isn’t just a movie, Bella. Not to her.” Heart pounding, Bella felt the air catch in her throat, realizing his implication. 

It’s her life.

“You’re saying…” She glanced at the cover. The iconic image of Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet as Jack and Rose. The love story that ended in tragedy. Bella’s heart skipped at Edward’s nod.

“She lived it.” The air caught in Bella’s throat as the words left his mouth. “Y/n was on Titanic the night it sank--where she was turned by a vampire who wanted access to her family’s fortune.” 

“Family’s fortune?” Bella was processing multiple things at once. 

She was getting Y/n’s backstory she’d been curious about for over a year. 

The vampire was aboard the famous ship which sank nearly a century prior.

Y/n apparently came from a wealthy family. 

It was a lot to take in. 

Edward placed the disk in the compartment, pressing the button to turn on the tv. “Her family were first-class passengers.” He began to explain, “Her father was the co-owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers and her mother was the daughter of a wealthy banker who happened to be a popular socialite among their class. Y/n was privately educated, and set to study literature at NYU.”

“Wow,” Bella exhaled, taking in the information. The screen had projected the main menu but neither were focused on it. 

Discovering Y/n wanted to pursue literature was no surprise. From the massive book collection in the Cullen’s library which Edward said belonged to her, to the phenomenal school papers Bella had read in their English class during their peer review sessions, she knew Y/n was a gifted writer and storyteller. She made the simplest of words feel powerful. Brought scenes to life in the reader’s mind. 

Then there was the tiny detail that Edward made a comment months back saying Y/n had published several books under pseudonyms.

He won’t admit it, but Bella’s fairly certain Y/n wrote one of the books on their summer reading list. The suspicion formed when she caught him sending his sister a knowing look after the sheet was passed out. When she looked at Y/n, Bella noticed her amused smirk, followed by a chuckle as she winked at her brother. 

“I-I don’t--,” she had trouble putting the words together, flushing red. “I can’t imagine….”

Edward nodded, understanding what she was trying to say. “Talking about our past is hard for all of us. But for Y/n, it doesn’t help that every history class talks about it.” He lifts up the DVD cover, “or that Hollywood continues to make shows and movies.” 

Bella wanted to ask more questions but understood it wasn’t the time. She knew if she wanted more information, she was going to have to gather the courage to ask Y/n herself. A task easier said than done when the vampire had barely warmed up to the human since implanting herself in their lives. 

They settled on the couch and pressed play, but Bella’s attention was far from the film. Her mind drifted to Y/n. Thinking about her as each scene played out to the point Bella started to picture Y/n in Rose’s place. It brought chills to her arms, shuddering as she couldn’t help but wonder what it was like in those final moments as the ship sank. 

When the movie ended, Bella said goodbye to Edward and began her assignment. Again, she was distracted. Feeling off as she searched online for sources about Titanic and watched video clips of survivors. 

Eventually, after contemplating for over an hour, Bella picked up the phone off the receiver and dialed the number. It rang three times before the familiar voice with a slight transatlantic accent spoke through. 

“I’ve been waiting for your call.” 

Bella silently cursed, face and neck turning red as she cleared her throat before replying, “Can you come over? I’d like to talk to you.” 

20 minutes later, Bella and Y/n sat across from each other in her kitchen. Notebook in front of her, cup of juice on the table and pencil in hand while Y/n’s were folded in her lap. To Bella’s surprise, the vampire knew exactly why she had called her, for Alice had seen it that morning and warned Y/n. 

‘So much for easing my way into this,’ Bella thought to herself. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” She nervously said, fiddling with the pencil in her hand. Y/n gave her a soft smile in hopes of easing the poor girl.

“Bella, if I didn’t want to do this I would have said so over the phone.” 

“I know but…” she cringes slightly, more embarrassed with herself than anything. “This is your history. And I feel like I invaded your privacy by making Edward tell me why we couldn’t watch the film at your house.”

“You didn’t make him tell you anything,” Y/n’s words shocked her, Bella tilting her head in confusion. “Edward made a promise, and you were ensuring he lived up to it. I can understand given the way he behaved and made you clueless as to what the issue was. Granted,” Y/n paused, shuffling in her seat, “I would have rather you simply came to me, but I realize my part in why you refrained all these months since you got together.” 

‘Avoiding you like the plague,’ as one would say.

Y/n put her folded hands on the table, nodding to the notebook. “How would you like to start?” 

Bella straightened in her chair, bringing the notebook closer as she opened it to remove the paper listing the assignment. She skimmed over it, brows pinched, “Um, it says I have the option to write an essay on media--documentaries, movies, tv specials--about the event. Research and write a biographical report on a famous passenger. Or….” her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, peering at Y/n over the paper. “Interview a survivor.” 

Y/n hummed, elbows propped on the table to rest her chin on her folded hands. “And which option are you leaning toward?” 

A frown made its way on Bella’s face, shrugging lightly as she placed the sheet back down. “Honestly I’m not sure. I’ve watched the movie and a couple documentaries. Read a memoir from a survivor and searched about a few passengers on the internet.”

“Well my advice,” Y/n mused, shifting her arms down so they were crossed but still leaning on the table. “Options one and two are your best bet. Unfortunately the last remaining survivor, besides myself,” she paused briefly with a strained smile, “lives all the way in England. She’s I believe 94, and was only two months old when she was aboard. Frankly I do not understand why our teacher would have that option on the assignment.” Leaning back in her chair she let out a sigh before giving the girl a knowing look. “But Bella, you and I both know you don’t really need my help on this assignment.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, making Bella’s pale face turn red as a tomato. Of course Y/n wasn’t going to buy her excuse of helping with homework. And there was no point in denying it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really know how to approach the subject.” 

“You could’ve just asked,” Y/n teased, but waved a hand dismissively and huffed. “Again. I’m to blame for why you didn’t.” Straightening her already perfect posture, Y/n tugged at the sleeve of her turtleneck and got serious. Taking a moment before speaking as though she were preparing herself. “You want to know my story and I’ll tell you, but you have to understand that it is not like how you see in the movies. My experience,” a faint look reached her eyes. “Was very different.”

Bella swallowed thickly, closing her notebook and pushing it away. Giving Y/n her full attention. “I understand.”

“What all did Edward tell you?”

“That you were on the Titanic when it sank. Your family came from wealth, and you were targeted by a vampire who snuck on who wanted access to that.” Bella saw the way Y/n’s breath hitched, stiffening but quickly recovered herself. Making the girl mentally curse herself for possibly overstepping. 

“Okay. That at least gives me some insight on where to begin.” Clearing her throat, Y/n reached into her satchel and removed a silver metal tin. It was in great condition despite evidently being from the 1910s. “Do you mind?” 

The question confused Bella, who didn’t know how to respond until her gaze landed on the now open tin, revealing five pristine cigarettes on either side. “Oh,” her eyes widened in surprise. Not sure how to respond since this was new information to her. Instantly questions popped in her mind. ‘Can vampires even smoke?’ ‘Does anyone else in the Cullens smoke?’ ‘How does that work?’ 

Bella shrugged, “my dad smokes cigars in the living room at times. And my step-dad is a smoker so I don’t mind, help yourself. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Y/n plucked one from the tin, placing it between her lips before looking in her bag again to fish for her lighter. “You know, it pleases me that there are still some cigarettes from my time available. These are Camels,” she gestured at them with one hand while the other pulled out the lighter. It matched the tin. Silver, vintage, and in pristine condition. “I preferred Fatima’s back then, but these will have to do. I hate Malboro’s,” her thumb flicked the lighter open, the flame igniting. 

“Never tried them,” Bella commented with a small smile. Frankly she was quite stunned with how Y/n was speaking to her as though they had been friends for decades. Just telling her the favorite cigarettes she used to smoke gave a little insight into her past. 

Bella pictured the young woman on the terrace of a New York cafe, cigarette in hand with a martini in the other while gossiping to her friends of the latest scandals within their socialite circle. Pearls around her neck, diamonds on her ears. Standing in the powder room with said friends to reapply her rough lipstick and adjust whatever pillbox hat she chose to wear that day. 

Thinking of what Y/n’s life might have been before becoming a vampire saddened Bella. The possibilities, the opportunities. Would she have married and have children? Would she have gone on to do great things? 

“It doesn’t do anything to me, obviously.” Y/n explained, bringing the flame to the filter. The glow of it made her golden eyes brighten in color. Once lit, she flicked the lighter off and tossed it and the tin back into her satchel. Bella stared at Y/n with fascination as she inhaled deeply before tilting her head back to blow out a thick cloud of smoke. “But it makes me feel….human. I used to do it so much that having one in my hand became second nature. It was common for the times. Plus the taste of it reminds me of bitter coffee,” That distant look in her eyes returned, but was then replaced by annoyance, “Carlisle hates it--as does Esme but they tolerate it so long I do it on the terrace. Emmett and Rosalie will indulge me by partaking to get under their skin,” a light chuckle leaves her lips, taking another drag. “The others say nothing. As I said, it doesn’t affect us.”

Bella laughed under breath, “Honestly I can’t see Edward smoking.” Picturing it felt foreign, and Bella wondered if he had before turning. 

Y/n laughed with her. “I’ve tried tempting him, but he never breaks. Still tries to use the excuse that it is a bad habit.” Y/n scoffs, “believe me, I know. He just hates the smell of it--enhanced senses to blame for that.” Blowing smoke out, Y/n finished with, “Alright, enough of my bad habit.”

Y/n began to take Bella back to April 10th, 1912. To the day she and her family boarded Titanic to set sail to New York from Southampton, England. “Before they were the Los Angeles Dodgers, they were the Brooklyn Dodgers. And before that, they were the Brooklyn Superbas. My father co-founded and owned the team in 1883 as the Brooklyn Grays prior to all the name changes and eventual move. His father,” she took out a small antique ashtray from the satchel, tapping off the ash from the filter. “had accumulated wealth after hitting big during the Gold Rush. My father then used his part of the inheritance to go into business with Charles Byrne, Joseph Doyle, and Ferdinand Abell.”

Now it made sense for Bella why whenever the Cullen’s played baseball Y/n sported Dodger merchandise and would find her watching the team play on T.V during the season. She also was a fan of the Brooklyn Mets, but not as enthusiastic as she was with the Dodgers. Not to mention the intense rivalry with Edward for his love of the Chicago Cubs. 

“Now you know how my family’s fortune came to be,” Y/n waved the smoke she released away, “and as you can imagine, he was friends with some very rich, influential people in New York. The whole reason we were in England to begin with was to attend the wedding of one of those people. As for Titanic,” she swallowed the imaginary bile in her throat. “He wanted to have the ability to tell everyone that he and his family were amongst the ship's first passengers. To brag or whatever--I don’t really know. But it happened that the wedding took place around the time she was set to set sail to New York. Extending our trip to last three weeks instead of the two we planned. All because he managed to snag the tickets by talking to the right people at the right time…..”

“I do not understand why we couldn’t have left on the Lusitania last week,” Y/n complained as the car neared the boarding docks. Trying to peer out the window but was annoyed by the crowd of people taking up every inch of the pavements, making their journey last longer than planned. “We’ve taken the liner twice now--surely it would have been up to satisfaction. We’ve had no trouble traveling on it--why go through the hassle of staying a whole week longer just to be on this ship, father?”

Not looking up from the newspaper in his hands, Y/n’s father sighed and shook his head. Irritated by her complaining as she had yet to stop since he told her the news. “Because, daughter, this is no ordinary ship. The White Star Line has spent years crafting the perfect vessel for the sea and we are in an extraordinary position to be able to be amongst the first passengers aboard. How could you not be excited by that?”

Y/n secured her coat tighter around her shoulders, frowning while keeping her gaze on the scene outside. “Forgive me for not being comfortable at boarding a ship that is set to make its first voyage across the Atlantic.” 

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Y/n. There is no need to be dramatic and consume yourself with worry. The White Star Line has assured Titanic passed every safety precaution and is unsinkable.” 

That did nothing to lift her unease, “Is that not what they said about the Tayleur? It sank three days into its maiden voyage?!” Her father grumbled, closing his paper to fold and place in his lap. 

“That was over fifty years ago. Times have changed. Technology has changed.” His hand waved dismissively, “That ship was doomed from the start despite what the papers make of it. Look, it would be foolish of them to not have learned from their mistakes. I’m telling you there is nothing to worry about.”

“But that feeling never left me,” Y/n put out the cigarette, blowing out the last bit of smoke. “Even after meeting the crew and the captain, there was an odd heaviness in my stomach. Telling me that something would happen. No matter what I did to distract myself--whether that be playing cards or chatting with other young girls my age aboard, thinking about my fiancé back in New York….it never left my mind.” 

Bella let out a gasp, eyes widening at the revelation, “Fiancé?” At the vampire’s nod, Bella felt her heartbreak. 

“Alexander Mason,” there was an airiness when Y/n exhaled, reminiscing at the memory of her lost love. “His father was a real estate mogul and big fan of the Dodgers. Our fathers met at a banquet, not long after they were invited to watch a game from our private viewing box and introduced us. Alex was a doll,” Another cigarette was lit, the woman shifting in her chair. “Handsome, intelligent. Beautiful eyes you could get lost in. Had a sharp tongue but a quick wit. I honestly wanted nothing to do with him,” Y/n chuckled at Bella’s gaped expression. “He talked my ear off that night.”

“And that was a bad thing?” Bella giggled.

“No,” Y/n defended, her own smile threatening to peek through. “It’s not a bad thing. It was just….odd. Took me off guard--especially because the conversation was centered around me. Which--,” her finger not holding the cigarette lifted up for emphasis, “most men in the 1900s of that class were not interested in the hobbies and interests of women. They desired a wife who would be a shiny doll to hang off their arm and keep the house in order.” The cigarette went between her lips. 

“I was not like that. I had dreams. Aspirations. I wanted to go to school, become a writer, and maybe see a little of the world before settling down.” The small, albeit sad, smile appeared. “He supported me--encouraged it actually. Then after several dates I was smitten. Alex was the first man to whisk me off my feet and make me believe there were truly good people out there. He was so sweet. So kind. Loving.” If her heart could beat, Y/n was sure it would have died on its own from being broken. “I knew I’d never find another like him. Which is why I said yes to marrying him after four months of courting. Under the condition we’d wait until I completed university--we were seventeen after all and the idea of marrying that young, despite it being common, unnerved me.”

“And he was okay with that?”

“He was. He agreed that it was too soon to get married, but he told me he’d rather refer to me as his fiancée than telling people we were going steady.” It was then Y/n peered down at her left hand. Bella followed her gaze, landing on the dainty diamond ring on the finger reserved for when one commits their life and love for another person until death do them part. Realizing what the ring was, and seeing how she never saw Y/n without it, Bella felt her eyes water. 

“Is that…?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful,” it truly was. Timeless and the type of ring that belonged on display in an antique museum. It suited Y/n.  

“Thank you,” she beamed, lifting her hand up to inspect it. “His words when he proposed was he saw the ring and it reminded him of the way my eyes sparkled when I laughed.” Y/n tightened her lips, emotion flooding her. “Little did he know the only time I genuinely laughed was with him. He was the reason for that sparkle.” 

A pregnant pause fell over the two. Y/n shuddering as she blinked away the tears that would never fall. God if there was one thing from her human days she wished she still had, it was the ability to cry. 

“What happened to him? If you don’t mind me asking,” Bella’s tone was gentle, hand nudging slightly forward as if to offer Y/n comfort. 

“He lived a long life,” Y/n resumed smoking, though the sadness never left her tone and her gaze remained on her ring. “I watched over him for many years--even after joining Carlisle. He can attest to the weekends I’d go missing and return with a tortured presence.” The heaviness in her chest heightened, she quickly reverted the story back to Titanic knowing at some point Bella would ask more about her relationship. 

“Anyways, we boarded Titanic the morning of April tenth and I kept to myself most of the time. If I wasn’t in my suite, I read in the lounge or sat on the deck drinking tea. Played cards with wives and daughters in first class. Chatted with the crew whenever I had questions.” Y/n inhaled sharply, eyes turning narrow. “It wasn’t just the ship I was worried about--Twas the main reason for my anxiety, yes, but there was a sense that I was being watched. You know the feeling?”

Bella nodded, heat rising to her pale cheeks as she thought back to the first weeks she lived in Forks and first met Edward. Even when she could not physically see him, the feeling she was being watched hovered over her. Then of course the incident with James, and now with Victoria still out there, Bella kept looking over her shoulder believing she’d catch a glimpse of red hair. “I know it quite well.” 

“Then you know it brings the hairs on the back of your neck up,” Y/n snarls, clutching her fists together. “And it is frustrating because you feel as though you are going crazy scanning your surroundings every second hoping to find the one responsible.” Unclenching she shook her head and took a deep drag of the cigarette. Letting the nicotine, a placebo to her, linger in her system before releasing. “The entire time on that ship I knew I was being watched. On the deck--in the lounge--in the ballroom, God, on my way to the powder room, I felt like a deer being hunted. My father dismissed my concerns, naturally, because I had no evidence of this faceless individual stalking me aboard. My mother, God rest her soul, at least listened and advised me to not wander on my own after nightfall.” 

“I’m assuming this faceless individual is the vampire who…” Bella trailed off nervously, her suspicions confirmed by the firm nod she received. “Who was he?” This time she got a scoff.

“To this day I’m unsure if the name he gave me was in fact his real one. Hours prior to the sinking he introduced himself to me--Called himself Arthur Deveroux. Said he was an investment broker out of London.” The sneer returned on her visage. “And that he was on his way to New York to do business with Rockerfeller. I’d never heard of him, and to this day the name Arthur Deveroux is not on the list of first class passengers aboard Titanic. He was a stowaway,” Y/n explained with a grimace. “Snuck on minutes before the ship departed Southampton and imposed as a member of London’s elite. In reality, Arthur--or whatever his true name was--was a man who’s greatest power was the ability to deceive.”

A chill ran down Bella’s spine. Enough to make her shift in her seat. It wasn’t hard to picture the kind of man Arthur was based on the fury laced in the vampire’s tone. And as Y/n relayed the story of the night she met her creator, Bella felt as though she were there with her. 

“What did you say your name was again?” Y/n’s brows pinched, observing the man with skepticism as she removed her hand from his after he’d taken it to kiss her knuckles. Just before he approached her at the table where she had been retrieving a plate of custard for her mother, that inkling of being watched had pooled in her stomach. Sending off alarm bells when she turned to find a beautiful man appearing not much older than her with the most unusual eye color. 

Red. Deep like the rouge lipstick she wore. The sight of them made her take a cautious step back. 

“Arthur Deveroux, madam.” Never had she heard a voice like him. Smooth and echoey. Unique and the type one would hear singing on the radio. Or beckoning prey out to sea. 

“Arthur,” Y/n repeated, scanning his physique which was donned in a crisp suit. Matching the men around them present for dinner. “You’re from England I assume? What brings you to New York?”

“Business. My company hopes to collaborate with Mr. Rockerfeller.”

“Fascinating,” she wasn’t really. Many men attempted to get their hooks into the millionaire and turned up short. Y/n thanked the waiter handing her a martini, taking a sip while eyeing Arthur, who declined the waiter’s offer of making him a drink. “How come I have not seen you before tonight, Mr. Deveroux? Are you not one to mingle?”

His chuckle sounded like wind chimes. “I’m afraid not. I tend to stick to the walls during these gatherings and observe. The people here are far too ostentatious for my liking.” If he’d been anyone else Y/n would laugh. Agreeing with the statement. But something about Arthur screamed that he was hiding something.

“Well, do enjoy yourself these last days Mr. Deveroux.” She began to excuse herself, sneaking a glance to her table to find her parents watching the scene. “I hope New York is up to your standards.” 

The smirk that appeared sent goosebumps along Y/n’s arm. And not the good kind she’d get when Alex looked at her. Everything about the expression was eerie. As though Arthur was calculating an idea--and Y/n was at the center of it.

“I believe you might be right, Y/n. I think New York is going to be everything I envisioned.” Taking her hand once more, Arthur’s smirk never left as he felt her shudder at the touch. Cold lips pressing to her knuckles. “Perhaps we’ll see each other there.” Before she had the chance to reply, Arthur backed away slowly then turned on his heel. Striding toward the exit amongst a sea of guests, and Y/n let out the sigh of relief she’d been holding. 

When he disappeared from her view, Y/n realized she’d never given him her name.

As it came time to recall the final minutes of her humanity, Y/n was on her fourth cigarette and the golden color of her eyes had dimmed. Bella’s heart skipped and she swore to herself knowing Y/n heard it. The last thing she wanted was to dishearten the young woman further. 

“I’d got separated from my parents during the initial chaos,” her voice was barely over a murmur. Gaze fixated on the surface of the table. “Titanic had just struck the iceberg and the impact woke me up. My parents went to the deck for information and I was trying to find them when I was suddenly pulled into a storage closet by a force so strong I remember it knocking me off my feet. Dragging me into the darkness. I couldn’t see and the grip on me prevented me from moving--I let out a scream but then a hand covered my mouth causing me to freeze. That’s when I heard his voice.”

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Y/n.” his icy mouth caressed the side of her ear. Y/n whimpered against the rock solid hand holding her still. “I’d hoped to continue our conversation in New York, but it appears this ship will not be arriving. Now I have to improvise, but rest assured….this will only hurt for a little while.” And before Y/n could react, a pinch on her neck turned to a searing, excruciating pain that exploded in every cell in her body as Arthur sank his teeth into her skin. 

Ensuring Y/n L/n was listed among those lost at sea when Titanic greeted the bottom of the Atlantic on the early morning of April 15th, 1912. Her name missing from the list of survivors recovered on the RMS Carpathia. To the world, the beautiful young socialite died along with the thousands Titanic took with her. Never knowing she was reborn into a creature of the night, destined to walk the Earth for eternity as a living reminder of the ship of dreams that was believed to never meet her end. 

“By the time I awoke Titanic was all but a memory. A blur. He kept me in that closet for most of the transformation as the ship took on water. Slowly descending further and further into the icy waters of the Atlantic,” Y/n finished the last of her cigarette, putting the nub out and curling her hands into her elbows. “I heard everything. The screams. The cries. Women and children saying goodbye to their fathers. The violins from the band who refused to stop playing.” The melody filled her ears, bringing Y/n back in time. “I focused on the music. Ironically enough, it brought comfort despite the chaos unfolding and served as a distraction for the torment I was going through. Mentally and physically.”

Bella wiped away a tear with a sniff but she remained quiet.

“When the upper deck flooded, that's when Arthur moved us. Edward might have told you before that when a vampire bites a human, the amount of time it takes for the venom to course through all depends on where they bite them.” Bella nodded slowly, remembering the conversation from when she first went to the Cullen’s home and he told her that Carlisle suffered for days during the transformation because he was bitten on the hand. For Y/n, Arthur bit her neck. Closer to the heart and therefore it would only take hours. 

“I was nearing the end--and he knew that, but it was minutes before the ship would submerge and he did not want us to get stuck. He gathered me up, hauled me over his shoulder and made our escape. To everyone on board scrambling to stay afloat it looked like a man carrying his lover to safety. What they didn’t see, however,” Y/n paused briefly to gather her emotions. “Was Arthur throwing us off the railing on the opposite side and swimming away. For miles and miles in absolute darkness. Until we finally reached the shore.”

Bella pictured a newly turned Y/n dragged from the waters onto the sands of New York. Returning home as planned, but without a beating heart and newfound thirst for blood. Scared. Confused. One minute she’s aboard a sinking ship, the next she’s on land. Life stolen by a man with sinister intentions. Depriving her of the future with Alex she dreamed of. 

“What happened next?” Bella carefully asked. 

Y/n’s expression remained dejected, offering a light shrug. “Arthur kept me hidden for days. Forcing me to feed on innocent humans. The RMS Carpathia would be arriving in New York and he needed to confirm if my parents had survived so he could blackmail me into stealing my inheritance.” Pushing away from the table, Y/n gathered the ashtray and discarded the remains into the trash. Running it under the faucet before wiping it dry with a paper towel.

“What the bastard didn’t anticipate,” she said with a tone Bella couldn’t decipher, but it sent a wave of unease through her. “Was the level of rage I experienced when I finally got a hold of my mind. It’s easy for creators to manipulate newborn vampires, but they have to be precise and hope that the person does not remember what preceded the bite. Unfortunately for Arthur, I remembered everything.” Y/n returned to the table, tossing the ashtray in her satchel and Bella saw the darkened expression that had encased her. “And once I realized what he’d done to me…let’s just say Arthur should’ve thought twice about taking on a newborn vampire for the first time.”

Bella didn’t have to hear the words to know what Y/n was implying. Gulping as she muttered, “You destroyed him. Like Edward did to James.”

Their eyes locked, and Bella felt her breath hitch by the blankness in Y/n’s. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” there was no hesitation. How could Bella blame her for wanting revenge on the man who stole her life. Y/n deserved her revenge and from the sound of it, Arthur had never turned anyone prior to her. Leaving him unqualified for the intensity a newborn experiences adjusting to their new life. 

Y/n would’ve been stronger. Faster. Combine that with rage and the taste for vengeance and Arthur was no match for her. 

“Carlisle found me three months later--in July of 1912,” Y/n wrapped up the story, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve before moving to play with her ring. “I knew immediately he was like me, but his eyes were different and I wanted--needed--to know what my future was like. Considering I didn’t really give Arthur the chance to explain,” A sheepish look came over her. “Carlisle had this aura, and I knew I could trust him.” A soft chuckle escapes her, “It’s funny, you know, my intuition never failed me when I was human. It was so strong even then and becoming this only enhanced it. Just look at how the entire time on Titanic I could not shake the feeling it wouldn’t reach America. Then Arthur….Carlisle believes it to be my gift and If I’m being honest I didn’t believe it myself until decades later.” 

Bella instantly became curious, “What made you think otherwise?”

Y/n tensed, and the crushing expression replaced the somber one. Folded hands going in her lap, but her thumb still stroked the ring. “Remember how I said I used to watch over Alex?” Bella nodded slowly, chest tightening at the implication, followed by confirmation. “Well I always felt,” her left hand went to the part of her chest where her heart lay. Unmoving. “In here, beckoning me to be near him. That I needed to see him--even if it was for a split second. And so, for seventy years--,” Bella’s mouth parted with glistening eyes. Y/n mirrored her, but unlike Bella the tears wouldn’t fall. “I would go to him. Observing from afar of course I could never…get close.” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, placing her hand back in her lap. “There were times he saw me.”

A gasp left Bella before she could stop it. “He did?”

“Yes,” Y/n murmur was more of a whimper, and Bella let the first tear fall. “I knew it was wrong, but I’d let our gaze lock. Then the second he blinked or turned I bolted. I know,” she huffed, “It was selfish of me. I hated myself because I was quite literally a ghost haunting him. But God I just needed to see his eyes--they were always my favorite thing about him.” 

Y/n cleared her throat loudly, rubbing her arms as she gathered herself. She knew telling Bella about Alex her years watching over him would come to this moment, but nothing could prepare her for the pain surfacing within her. 

“The uh--the last time I saw Alex was on his deathbed,” her eyes were closed but she heard Bella’s reaction. From the stutter of her heart to the sharp inhale. “In the days leading up everything felt off. I knew he was sick--he’d been for awhile, but I hoped he’d pull through like the other scares. This was different.” Her hand went back to her chest. “My intuition never failed me,” she let out a watery laugh, “and this time…it was warning the inevitable. Then Alice gave a look I’ll never forget, and I knew I needed to get to him as fast as I could.”

Bella couldn’t even imagine, just envisioning it made her heart sink into her stomach and throat dry up. Before she could ask the million dollar question, Y/n answered for her. “I got to say goodbye. It’s what Alex deserved. After everything I put him through he deserved to have closure.”

“Why did you never…?”

“Turn him?”

“Yeah,” Bella frowned, immediately regretting the question upon Y/n’s look of torment. 

“Same reason why Edward has yet to turn you,” it was harsh and Y/n knew it. But Bella needed a wake up call, if she could be the one to deliver then so be it. Yet at the same time, Y/n finds it aggravating that Edward would put this much effort into a relationship with Bella to not turn her. With Alex, Y/n never pursued him and kept her distance for a reason. Yes, she tortured herself by constantly checking on him, but at least she committed to it. 

A flash of hurt was evident on Bella, but she recovered as Y/n continued, “Alex lived a long life. Maybe not always happy, but he went on to do great things. He became an engineer, and dedicated his career to advancing ships for cross-Atlantic travel. Because he never wanted another disaster like Titanic to happen again,” a small smile curled up on her lips, a proud look in her eyes. “Eventually he married a nice woman, had a daughter, and three grandkids. Turning him would’ve taken that all away.”

Despite feeling broken-hearted for Y/n, Bella understood her reasoning, even though she herself desires becoming a vampire to be with Edward. Unlike Y/n, who sacrificed her chance at having her love with her to give him the ability to live a full life. 

“Did you,” she bit her lip, leaning her elbows on the table after wiping a stray tear. “Did you at least get to talk to him? Before he died?”

Y/n was silent. Gaze drawn down to her lap where it focused on the diamond ring. And while her undead heart broke for the man she’d never see tending to his garden or placing fresh flowers on her ‘grave,’ ever again, Y/n smiled at knowing he was in a better place. 

“I did.”

“I-I knew--I always knew,” the old man croaked in anguish as tears welled in his beautiful eyes that still held the color and sparkle they did when he was a seventeen-year-old boy. Now covered with wrinkles to match his withered skin and silver hair. He laid in a hospital attached to different machines, heart monitor picking up in pace at the rapid beat due to the emotions consuming him. But no matter his appearance, he was still the sweet, darling, Alexander Mason Y/n fell in love with all those years ago. “I-I saw you--after Carpathia docked I scoured the area for you.”

“I know you did,” Y/n whispered with agony. Grabbing his hands gently, making him gasp by how cold they were but he clutched them like a lifeline. Holding them to his chest because he feared that if he let go she’d disappear. 

“They told me you were lost at sea,” the first tear fell, and Y/n felt a sob in the back of her throat. “They said you sank to the bottom and would never be recovered. They--they told me I was making it up--but I knew you were out there. I saw you.” He shook his head as more tears cascaded down his cheeks like a never ending waterfall. “I saw you at my graduation. At the cemetery when my mother died. At the docks when I left for France--when I was in France.” Y/n shuddered at the memory surfacing. 

America had entered World War I and despite Alex coming from wealth where he easily could’ve dodged the draft, he enlisted and spent the year in Europe fighting. And the entire time Alex carried a photograph of Y/n in his pocket close to his heart. Removing it when he was about to go on the frontlines to take one last look at her face and press a kiss to the image. Men in his battalion often asked about the lady Alex held in his pocket, and each time they were met with shock and regret when he revealed she was on Titanic when it sank. 

That was the longest time Y/n had been away from Carlisle. He advised her not to go as she did not know any of his friends that lived in Europe, but Y/n refused to be an ocean apart from Alex. Especially when there was the high chance he may never return home. No, she needed to be close to him. To ensure he was safe. Eventually when the war ended, and Alex was back in New York, Y/n tracked down Carlisle in Chicago. Discovering that during her departure he turned a 17-year-old boy dying of Spanish Influenza. 

“I was there,” she breathed, confirming his statements as she stroked his hand and wrist. Aged skin contrasting with hers frozen in time. It pained her to see him like this. Pained her to have gone decades as a shadow in his life. Observing from afar while never drawing close. 

“You were there,” He repeated with awe, the memories of each occurrence flooding his mind. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination, conjured by his grief. She was real. “At the docks.” Y/n nodded. “At the hotel opening.” Another nod, this time slower. “At my wedding.”

Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. Her head dropped between her shoulders, leaning forward to press her forehead against their conjoined hands. The tearless sob released, echoing along the walls and hitting her straight in the chest. Her undead heart breaking into pieces. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I am so so sorry. Please forgive me--I couldn’t come to you no--no matter how much my soul begged for me to put an end to the suffering.” 

“What happened out there, my darling?” He brought her attention back to him. Not wanting to go another second without looking at her face. The beautiful face he fell in love with as a boy. The face that haunted his dreams. That he swore he saw on a crowded street and when he looked out his window on every birthday and anniversary that passed. The face he thought of when fighting for is life in France--praying he’ll see when he was called to the heavens. 

Now that face was in front of him after decades of mourning. When people called him crazy for always believing Y/n to be alive and forced to hide away. “You’re still as beautiful as the day I lost you.” One hand let go of hers to caress her cheek, wrinkled thumb stroking the area below her eyes. “Except your eyes have changed. They’re not the color they were when you left New York.” His hand rested on top of hers, still perched on his chest right by his heart. “But nonetheless, still beautiful.” 

Y/n swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words to say but none of them seemed appropriate. “You remember all those stories of creatures in the night we used to read about that our parents said were incongruous?” His nod was slow, but attentive. 

“Like Dracula?”

“Yes,” Y/n choked out a laugh, “Like Dracula. Turns out all those stories are not fairy tales.” His sharp intake filled her ears.

“Are you saying…?” This time Y/n was the one to nod. “Good Heavens. You--you are a--.” She shook her head roughly, not wanting to hear him say the word. 

“I’m not the same I was when I left for England all those years ago. There are things--dark things, that exist in the world, and unfortunately I’m one of those.”

Alex rescinded her words, “No. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“It’s true, darling.”

“You might have different eyes, but you’ll always be my Y/n. You’ve been my guardian angel all these years. Any--anytime I felt lost, you were there. Anytime I-I felt like I was forgetting your face, there it was in the distance.” 

Y/n let out a pained sound, but it was so soft Alex couldn’t hear it. His words struck her. Like lightning hitting a tree. How could he still have devotion to her after all the suffering she put him through. 

“You still wear it?” He brought her attention to their hands, where his frail finger traced the ring. “After all this time?”

Y/n stared at him with absolute love, “I’ve never once taken it off.” Bringing his hand to hers, she kissed his weathered skin. “And I never will.” For a moment they just sat there. Staring at each other while the beep of the monitor filled the room. Getting slower and slower to the point Y/n felt herself starting to crumble. “I’m breaking all the rules coming here,” she eventually said, wanting to hear his voice until the inevitable arrived. 

“Rules?”

“Things in this life are not so different from yours. There are rules to follow and the reason why I had to stay away from you. It would’ve put you in danger--and I couldn’t let that happen.” Alice assured Y/n her visit with Alex would remain hidden from the Volturi, but part of her still worried. Thankfully her intuition wasn’t screaming at her, otherwise the situation would be different. 

“Will you get in trouble if you’re caught?”

“Yes. But I don’t want you worrying about that. Alright?”

“Does anyone know you’re here?” The fact Alex was concerned made her smile. 

“The man who took me in does--and the family he and I found along the way.” One of her hands came up to brush away a silver hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “He found me shortly after I…became this. He knows I would've moved mountains and fought my way through anyone who got in my way to prevent me from being here with you.”

Alex sighed, eyes fluttering shut as they fought against the sleep his body desperately craved. Y/n saw it too, and the look of anguish overcoming her made Alex understand why she waited until now to make an appearance. 

“This is it, isn’t it.” Not a question, a statement. 

“Yes,” she whimpered, scooting closer so she was sitting beside his torso rather than his legs. Leaning into his space as he kept her palms pressed to his slowing heart.

His smile was gentle, “I guess I should find some solace. Dying with the last thing I’ll see being the love of my life I lost a lifetime ago.” Another groan left her. “I always regretted not coming with you to England. That damn Yale interview.”

“I’m grateful you didn’t,” she defended, tone serious as though appalled by his confession. “Had you who’s to say we would’ve made it on a lifeboat. And if they refused to let you on, I would’ve leaped off.” The chances of him surviving would’ve been slim. The lifeboats took women and children first and therefore the majority of those who died aboard Titanic were men. Including Y/n’s father. “You would’ve never done the amazing things you accomplished, Alex. You would’ve never got your Nobel Prize--or had your family.” 

A sigh left him, knowing she was right, and another wave of tears fell as he whispered, “I would’ve joined you.” He would’ve become a vampire for her. Traded in his future of living to remain unmoving in time with her. 

It devastated her. “I know you would have,” her bottom lip trembled, “But Alex, you deserved to live. You deserved to do all those great things. You’ve embedded your name in history--thanks to you, there hasn’t been a commercial passenger ship to sink in seventy years.”

Alex let out a snuffle, “I didn’t want--I didn’t want anyone to experience the pain I did. Losing you that way…I never recovered, Y/n.” 

Now that destroyed her. Worse than she ever imagined. Y/n audibly reacted as the pain tightened and exploded in her chest. “Oh, Alex.”

“You’ll stay, right?” The monitor decreased in pace. Alex used what little strength his heart had left to stay alive to treasure the last moments the universe afforded him with Y/n. His time was coming, and he was ready, but he needed to see her face, hear her voice, and feel her touch, one last time. “You’ll be right here.”

Y/n leaned forward, holding her weight up but still keeping her body close to his. “I am not going anywhere,” She vowed, lacing their fingers together, pressing them into his chest so she could feel the light thump of his heart. “I’ll be right here every second.”

And Y/n did. She sat there, holding his hands until they went limp. The beeping decreased. Alex’s breathing turned into soft pants, eyes fluttering as the darkness beckoned him. The last thing he felt was cold lips pressed to his forehead, and the melody of her voice in her ears sending him off to the Heavens, “I love you, Alexander Mason, I will love you until the end of time. And when the day comes, I’ll meet you at the docks.” 

April 14th, 2012 

The Cullens stood together in silence as the cool wind breeze passed them and clouds drizzled light rain above. The smell of salt from the sea filled their senses, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, causing the boats docked to lightly sway. 

Bella, now possessing golden eyes and skin so pale and cold, leaned into Edward’s side while brushing a hand down their daughter’s hair. Like her family, she remained silent as she watched her sister-in-law stand alone at the edge of the docking port. Staring ahead into the deep, quiet ocean. 

In the middle of the night one hundred years prior and 1,300 miles away, the ship of dreams known as Titanic sank to the bottom of the Atlantic. Carrying 2,240 souls on her maiden voyage to New York, only 706 made it to their destination. The rest were lost to the sea. 

Y/n L/n may have survived the sinking, but she died aboard Titanic. As the ‘unsinkable’ vessel took on water, her heart stopped. Never to beat again. Becoming frozen like the waters consuming them, she went on to outlive the 706 survivors rescued on the RMS Carpathia. The last one leaving the docks forever in 2009. 

Flowers in her hand, with the same face that boarded Titanic, Y/n approached the edge of the dock. The wind breezed past her, stronger this time but she remained afoot. Crouching down so her knees hovered over the wood. And when she leaned over to stare at the water, the reflection of that 17-year-old passenger stared back at her. 

With a shuddered breath, Y/n gently lowered the bouquet, watching as the current grasped the flowers, allowing them to drift away in the direction Titanic would have traveled when she reached her final destination. 

Golden eyes followed the flowers as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance until Y/n barely made out the color. When it was gone from her vision, she tilted her head up to the sky, smiling at the sight of the sun breathing through the dense clouds. 

They’d have to go indoors eventually, but Y/n rejoiced in the feeling that the universe was sending her a sign. They might be gone, but they are never forgotten. The people we love are always watching over us. Sometimes it’ll feel like a gentle touch to the shoulder. Or comes as a whisper. Or in a crowded room you might find their face. 

However it may come, they are always there. 

And as Y/n began to stand, wind picking up once more, she felt the caress of a hand on her shoulder, a gentle murmur filling her ears. 

“I’ll always wait for you at the docks.”

[setevulpo]

so anyway does anyone want to hear how long jayce spent in the alternate timeline based on the length of his hair?

because, little fun fact, hair grows around six inches per year (on average), which takes it to half an inch per month. it was also established that time moves in funny ways between dimensions, what with heimerdinger and ekko leaving the canon timeline at the same time but spawning in different times of the alternate one.

meaning we can assume the same about jayce's time in the apocalypse world! yay!

here we see what he looked like at the start vs. the end of his stay in the weeping angels dimension. now i'm going to assume he did try to cut a bit of his bangs (idk with what, maybe the rock he was using to slice into the wall), because it is significantly shorter than the back of his hair at the end, and considering his original haircut that wouldn't happen without interference (since the top of his head has pretty much all the same length)

at the start his hair was still kinda slicked but he had two different lengths. at the sides it looks like a buzzcut, around 1.5 cm (0.5 inches for the americans in the crowd), and at the top it lands closer to 5 or 6 cm (1.9 to 2.3 inches).

at the end he no longer has that much of a difference between the sides and top of his hair! which actually just means the top of his hair grew to cover the sides, it's easy to notice behind his ears.

(i hope y'all know how ridiculous i looked trying to measure my own hair for this cause we have similar lengths)

the back of his hair, which i'm gonna take as the actual length of it because the front was probably cut, is somewhere between 17 and 20 cm (6.6 to 7.8 inches), but the front is closer to 8 or 9 cm (3.1 or 3.5 inches).

and having those numbers means it's math time! jayce's hair seems to have grown about 14 cm (5.5 in) since he was thrown into the apocalypse, at least at the back. in the front it was about 3 cm (1.1 in), but haircuts mess with that measure so i'm not counting it.

since hair tends to grow 0.5 in (1.27 cm) per month and 1 in (2.54 cm) per two months, and it grew around 14 cm (5.5 in) in the time he was there, it's safe to assume he spent around 11 months in there!

also, his hair was already very close to that length when he collapsed after climbing out of the fissure! it's difficult to see exactly where it ends, but it's close enough that i'd say most of those 11 months (like 10 and a half maybe) were spent in the fissure! because his hair was still very short when he fell in!

now don't imagine jayce crying himself to sleep for almost an entire year because he's in a world he doesn't recognize, hungry, cold, and in extreme pain! also constantly paranoid of the glorious evolved people that were chasing him from a distance!

[phoenixisdabestwriter]

Part 1: Undercut

EDIT: OK so this was originally gonna be a one shot but then I decided to do a part 2, which is right here!!!

"Could I touch your undercut?"

Satoru leaned forward, a small grin on his face at your question. "Why do you wanna do that?"

You shrug, giving him a smile. "Just wondering, since we're friends."

He waves a hand dismissively, his small grin turning into a smirk. "Yeah, yeah, you can touch it. But you better buy me something sweet after this."

You let out a dry laugh at his request, reaching a hand out as you do so. "Yeah, I'll get you that new strawberry shortcake from the corner store."

Your hand goes to the back of his head, a small frown on your lips when you feel the barrier of his Infinity on. "Satoru..."

His smirk is taunting and if he didn't have the blindfold on, you were sure you would see a mischievous gleam in his crystalline blue eyes.

"Sorry." Satoru says, not sounding sorry at all as he drops the Infinity barrier. "Forgot to turn it off. You know how it is, have to keep it up to keep myself safe-"

He stops talking when your hand touches his undercut, his heart skipping a beat when the tips of your fingers trace over it. A small look of fascination makes its way onto your face as you do so.

"So soft..." You murmur, letting your thumb trace small circles on his undercut, enjoying the way the buzzed egdes feel on the pads of your fingers. "Wow, this is nice."

Satoru doesn't say anything, his eyes closed behind his blindfold, a small, consistent sound coming from the back of his throat. You pause, your eyes snapping to his face. It almost sounds like he's... purring?

"...Are you alright-"

"Fine, I'm fine." Satoru mutters, his voice going down an octave, making your heart do a staccato. "That feels nice..."

A reluctant, soft smile makes its way onto your face. "Me touching your undercut?"

"Mhmm..." Is all he says, tilting his head slightly to give your hand better access to it. "Feels nice."

You continue to silently touch his undercut, simply enjoying spending this rare time you have with your busy friend, the two of you completely unaware of the spark that this interaction set alight.

[msklassickilla]

Prada You Chapter 1

Summary:

In the summer of 1998, sparks fly between Nyeya and Jey.

Nyeya is an 18-year-old around the way girl. Jey is older, paid, and fine. He is also the leader of the infamous Prada Bois alongside his twin brother Jimmy.  The two have chemistry. However, Nyeya has plans outside of her attraction. With a birthday around the corner and dreams of living a good life, Nyeya sets her sights on enjoying the perks of Jey's money and hood celebrity.

But baby girl has no clue what it takes to really be down. Nyeya is about to learn some hard life lessons at the expense of her 'Prada' priced dreams.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya (Nye) Green (OC)

Author's Note: This story is happening in an alternative universe. It features the current and original Bloodline members along with other WWE stars. So, the characters are themselves, but some things are switched around for the stories sake. This was originally written with all original characters, but I think it could work better this way. Hope you guys enjoy it and I actually finish it...

Warnings: Please be advised that chapter includes harsh/foul language

Chapter 1: Deals

"Man, its hot out here. How long y'all gon' be?"

"Michael, shut the hell up. You actin' like you don't be outside all day and night with Ju and 'em," I snapped.

He stuck his tongue out at me in response. I hated when my mama made me bring him along. I be wanting to be free and he be cramping my style with his whining ass. Like I was 18 and 3/4, I ain't need this brat following me around like he was my child.

"Nye, what you want? She ain't got the usual but she got other stuff," Kiyah yelled down the hallway.

We was at Ms. D house. She was the candy lady in our projects.

"Just get me some chips and a pop," I responded, hanging over the stair rail.

"And what about me?" Michael questioned.

I just looked at him.

"Kiyah, get this beggar some chips. The off brand."

"You a hoe for 'dat," he insulted.

I shrugged, "Just like ya 'ole daddy."

He rolled his eyes before taking a seat on one of the steps. I was rethinking my whole day because I refused to have this negro with me. Kiyah and I was tryna to slide to this rec party tonight. We had heard that everybody was supposed to be coming through. I couldn't miss that. Not the first big party of the summer.

I had to ditch Michael. As we waited for Kiyah to return with our snacks I started to hatch a masterplan.

"Here y'all go. Ms. D always trippin' thinking somebody stealing," Kiyah complained.

I side-eyed her, "Was you stealing you though?"

Kiyah was a thief. A good one at that. So I couldn't even blame Ms. D for that one. I'd watch her ass too.

"Damn! You know I ain't even on that type of shit. My probation officer said I got one mo' chance," she pleaded, holding up one acrylic adorned finger.

"She lying," Michael contested.

I laughed as Kiyah slapped him upside the head.

"Mind ya broke business!"

"You broke too," he whined, rubbing the side of his head.

I was tickled. Michael never held his tongue. His bad ass was gon' speak whatever was on his mind. Our mama, Toy, had raised us like that. Silence fell over the three of us as we ate our snacks.

"That party gon' be dope, Nye. I just know it. Like all the fine niggas gon' be there," Kiyah said after a while.

"Hell yeah. I know the Prada Bois be throwing hella nice parties," I agreed.

The Prada Bois was a gang that ran our projects. There wasn't nothing going on that didn't go through them first. You couldn't even fight without their permission.

The Prada Bois was also known as the deadly bois because they wasn't afraid to kill. Spillin' blood was how they got down.

However, crazy they got some of them was cool dudes. They would look out if somebody was behind on rent or didn't have no food. They was gangsta angels to a lot of people.

"Y'all not going to 'dat shit. Y'all not cool like that with them," Michael spat.

Kiyah and I both looked him at like he was crazy.

"Shut yo ass up. We was invited but we gotta watch yo scary ass. 'Ole afraid of the dark ass nigga," Kiyah shot back.

And like that they was at it again. You would think that they was siblings as well with they way they argued.

"Y'all chill. Damn! It's too hot for all that," I intervened, irritated with the back and forth.

Michael flipped Kiyah the bird before going back to his chips.

"We going to that party. I'ma make sure of that," I announced.

Michael was about to go spend the night with our granny. I just had to bribe his little ass.

"How you gon' do 'dat? Prada Bois ain't gon' let you in there with me around," Michael smirked.

I smiled back, "You not gon' be around. You staying with Granny till we get back."

He was already shaking his head in disagreement. Our granny was cool but she was always watching the same boring ass shows or playing Spades with her friends. I knew why he didn't wanna go but I was about to offer him something I knew he wasn't gon' refuse.

"Nye, you crazy. This heat done cooked ya brain. I ain't going over 'dere," he replied, standing up.

I pulled out two folded 20 dollar bills out my bra. This was the last of my savings which I was gon' spend on a fly outfit. However, I can't be fly with nowhere to go. Priorities.

"Here. 40 dollas. You ain't use to that kind of money youngin'. Go chill with Granny for a few hours and keep ya mouth shut about where I went," I specified as I held out the money.

Michael eyed me then the outstretched money. I could see him thinking it over. When he grabbed it all I could do was smile.

"Don't think this shit gon' work all the time. You lucky I got shit to do," he sassed.

I waved him off. He was always on that bullshit.

"You ain't got shit to do nigga," Kiyah snapped.

"You just mad 'cause ya grown ass broke," he taunted, waving the two bills in her face.

She snatched them and took off running down the stairs. He chased after her.

All I heard was, "Kiyah, bring yo broke ass back here with my shit."

I chuckled as I leaned back against the stairs. My mind swiftly shifted to my next issue; my outfit. What the hell was I gon' wear now? Like always, I was gon' figure something out.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Ok, this is the last preview I'm giving y'all for this story! I know this one has taken a while but I very much appreciate your patience! I'm hoping to post the full thing either tomorrow or Saturday! Hope you like it!

Mild warning for ~grinding~

Special thanks to @luc1fersducky @animationmovieshipps @bat-boness and @misfitgirlwrites for letting me send you my process, you guys are amazing <3

"And where do you think you're going?," you asked coyly, stopping him in his tracks entirely.

“I umm, just uhh…giving you privacy?” He tentatively went for the handle again, but your arm shot out, keeping the door in its locked state.

“Oh, we’re way past decency here, Lucifer.” You maneuvered him away from the door and sat him down on the large white bench that was affixed to the wall. You leveraged your foot against the area just below his hip and rested one hand on the top of your thigh, the other on your hip. “Besides, you’re not really in any condition to be in the public view” leaning forward and shooting a quick glance down at his crotch, “now are you?”

Lucifer could only shake his head.

"Glad you agree," you smiled and pecked his lips, an almost inaudible whine leaving Lucifer's throat. "I have some more dresses to try on. You can look, but you cannot touch unless I say, alright?"

"Yes, love," he murmured obediently. You smiled and turned around to pick up the black dress you had let fall to the floor. You bent over slowly to pick it up, giving Lucifer a lovely view of your barely covered ass. You heard a deep inhale behind you followed by a shaky exhale.

You hung up the black dress and moved onto the next dress, a beautiful lavender colored Bardot dress with sleeves that hung off your shoulders. Luckily this one didn't have a zipper, you only needed to step in and shimmy it up your body. You liked this one more than the last, you did as few twirls in front of the mirror checking every single angle.

"What do you think of this one, hon?," you asked, looking at his reflection in the mirror. It seemed as though he was gripping that bench with just a little too much force.

"Ravishing," Lucifer breathed. You had given him permission to look, and he was taking fully advantage of your generosity. He was chopping at the bit, fighting every urge to pounce right then and there. Lucifer's eyes were hungry, his lips curled into a smile to try and hide how badly he needed you at this moment. You admired his will power...but how strong was it truly? You made your way back towards him, chuckling playfully. Without warning, your knees found their way onto the bench, now fully straddling the mess of a man beneath you.

"W-what are you-mmph!" Lucifer tried to ask you but was cut short by your lips suddenly on his. You wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a small peck to his forehead.

"You always say just the right things, Luci," you cooed as you began to shift your hips against him. Hearing the mangled moans coming from Lucifer was nothing short of euphoric. You noticed he had released his grasp on the bench and began to move towards your hips. You gripped the back of his head, his hair firmly between your fingers, and tilted his head back gently. Lucifer grunted softly as you brought your lips to his neck. "Ah, ah, ah, what did I say, love? No touching," you scolded, now sucking and nibbling at his tender skin, desperately needing to mark him.

Lucifer whined and reluctantly brought his hands back to their original position on the frigid bench that paled in comparison to the feeling of your warm body that was pressed against him. "I-I can't do this f-for much longer, darling," he whimpered, "I can only h-handle- hnng, so much, I...ssshhhhhhiiittt-" Lucifer's hot breath became increasingly labored as you continued to rock your hips against his painfully growing bulge.

Just then, you heard the sound of a door closing. Someone had just entered the room next to you. With the threat of being heard now looming, you lifted yourself from his neck to see that Lucifer's eyes had turned an ominous red. It felt as if his slit black irises were staring straight into your soul, attempting to burn you from within. He was losing control fast. But you weren't done with him just yet. With a smirk, you placed a finger over his soft lips. "Shhh," you whispered almost inaudibly, "you may want to keep your voice down from now on."

[chamomiletealeaf]

Simon Riley teaching you how to shoot his gun.

warnings: kinda nsfw, suggestive, mentions of weapons, size kink, Simon is a cocky little slut and a bit more playful than he is originally, reader has Laswell's job (I'M SORRY LASWELL I LOVE YOU MY LOVE)

wc: 2,367

a/n: Sorry this prompt was so late. Final papers and stuff have been taking up my time so I haven't had much time to write full fics like this. I wanted to wait until I could really engage in it for y'all. Hope you guys enjoy 🫡 I tried my best and researched what I thought was necessary to be as accurate as possible when it comes to ranks, positions, and responsibilities of certain spots and jobs in the military. I apologize for any inaccuracies.

You are CIA. You're no stranger to the atrocities of the world, nor are you a stranger on how to deal with them. Your special skills in strategizing missions and intelligence analysis was something you were well known and respected for and did not go unnoticed by Captain John Price, which is how you got recruited as a Communications Analyst and Operation Overseer for Task Force 141.

You loved your job. The men you worked with on the Task Force became more than just coworkers and rather close friends over time.

You worked on base most of the time while the team was out in the field during missions, so with you being their boots on the ground and the birdie in their ears, you're like an omniscient entity, which they saw you as. You needed them and they needed you.

However, it was difficult being apart during missions knowing that if anything happened to you or them, you couldn't do anything to physically help each other in that moment, which is why you all needed to know how to handle personal enemy attacks on your own if needed. Luckily, you were all pretty good at that.

You knew how to shoot a gun, fight, outsmart captors, and take care of the team. You could definitely handle and take care of yourself pretty well. However, you still thought to yourself:

"There's always more to learn, right?"

-

"Oh c'mon Simon how hard could it be, you forget who I am." You laugh as you go to drink from your glass of iced tea.

You and the Task Force were celebrating your victory on your most recent mission in the common area of the base. The men had most of their gear off leaving their gloves and holsters on and Simon also with his signature skull balaclava and hoodie.

You sat on one of the couches in the common area next to Johnny with his arm sprawled across the back of it behind your neck. Your white button down was tucked into your black dress pants and you had the first few buttons undone, leaving less to the imagination. You also had on your black slightly heeled shoes, which were surprisingly very comfortable.

Simon sat across from you, body turned in your direction. Gaz sat next to him and Price leaned on the couch behind the two with a glass in hand.

"I'm just saying. Such a small thing probably couldn't handle something so big." Simon says and smirks under his balaclava as he looks at you, clearly amused by his innuendo.

You roll your eyes and Johnny laughs.

Simon didn't mean it, and you knew. He saw the way you handled things so efficiently and skillfully, whether it be a knife, a gun, intel, missions, or even himself, It's one of the main things he loved and admired about you, though he would never say it.

"I don't know L.T., you forget when she pinned me in seconds last time we sparred." Johnny says.

"I wouldn't underestimate the gal Lieutenant. You've seen what happens to the men who do." Price says, smirking and taking a swig of his drink.

"Who got you around those guards by hacking into the cameras and telling you where to go hm?" You ask Simon.

"You did lass." Johnny says as he lifts his arm to playfully poke your cheek.

You giggle and push his hand away.

"I'm not doubting her, it's just harder than it looks. Don't think she could do it as easily as she says she can."

"That's literally the definition of doubt L.T." Gaz says.

You scoff with your mouth open, smiling in surprise.

"Wow, ok, I see how it is, Lieutenant." You emphasized the title you called him to tease him, as you were the only one who ever called him Simon. Calling him Lieutenant meant you were either being dead serious, angry with him, or teasing him. And Simon would be lying if he told himself he didn't like it when you called him by his ranked position. He also loved how you were the only one who called him by his name.

"Oooohh fuck yer in trouble now L.T." Johnny said.

As the night went on and got older, you could feel your heart getting lighter as you forgot about the stresses of life for a while.

After a few more hours of harmless banter and laughs between the five of you, the men decided to help you clean the common area up and head back to their quarters.

Simon, however, was the last to leave.

As you placed your glass in the sink with the other dishes and glasses, another glass was placed in the sink by another hand.

"Thanks love." Simon said as he gently placed his glass down in the sink next to yours.

"For what?" you said.

"For getting us to forget for a while. For getting me to relax."

Simon never really was one to speak much about anything really. You weren't sure if it was the bourbon speaking but regardless, you melted at his vulnerability he trusted you with.

"You're welcome Simon." You turn to smile at him, both staring in each others eyes for a few seconds in silence.

"But you know what I didn't forget?" You ask, smirk creeping onto your face.

Simon raises his eyebrows in anticipation awaiting your answer.

"That you think I can't shoot a gun bigger than a pistol."

Simon laughs, throwing his head back causing your eyes to lose contact with his honey-colored ones, the sound causing your heart to drop with the weight of your lust like a star falling out of the sky.

"Ok, well, how 'bout you prove me wrong then?" Simon asks, a mischievous look in his eye.

"Challenge accepted, Lieutenant." You said, walking past him and making your way to the shooting range, expecting him to follow.

This time, it was Simon's heart's turn to drop.

-

Simon enters the range after you, and you've already got your safety glasses and headphones on, leaning against one of the dividers of the range with your hands on your hips looking at him as if you've been waiting for hours.

"Well Lieutenant, show me what you think I can't do." You say, and Simon doesn't say anything. He stops in the door frame and after a second, he silently goes to choose a weapon. He picks up a big gun, one of his, purposefully picking one that would be difficult for you just to prove that you couldn't do it. He was such a cocky bitch.

He approaches you with the weapon, and you look at it in his hands, stiffening up a bit at the intimidating sight of it, and Simon chuckles.

"This" Simon says, lifting the gun up for you to get a better look, "is an AR-15. It was created for ad-"

"Advantage over the AK-47." You cut him off, smirking in triumph as you once again catch the soldier in front of you off guard and he looks at you with an amused raised eyebrow.

"Ok smartass. Since you know so much, show me how to hold it then." Simon drops the weapon in your hands and crosses his arms, spreading his legs a little, standing in an even more intimidating position. The gun is heavy and big, causing you to stumble due to Simon catching you off guard this time. It's safety was on, as Simon would never put you in any danger, which is why he was so comfortable with teasing you in this setting.

He laughs to himself, thinking how cute you look with such a big weapon.

You look at the gun, then up at Simon, then to the target in the range. You make your way to one of the spaces between the dividers and lift the gun. It's heavier than you thought, but nothing you couldn't handle.

Simon follows behind, standing behind you with his arms still crossed and legs apart.

"Well go on, if it's so easy." Simon teases.

"Oh relax." You playfully snap back at him.

You lift up the weapon, and look through the sight, aiming at the target.

You look through the sight a bit longer, making sure you're lined up, as you feel Simon's presence even closer.

He comes up behind you, pressing his front against your back as he reaches an arm around to turn off the safety. You lift your head from the sight and lower the weapon a little, giving him room to access whatever he was reaching for.

"Safety is still on sweetheart." Simon says, voice dripping with cockiness as he continues to tease you.

"I knew that." You mumble. "Just testing the sight."

"Mhm sure bunny." He says, the nickname making your eyes widen a bit and your cheeks flush red as you look down at the weapon, not daring to look back at him.

You lift the gun back up, and you feel Simon move behind you once again as he kicks your legs apart and places his hands firmly on your hips. You feel him press his front against you once again, making you gasp.

"Here, spread your legs a bit. Left foot slightly in front of your right." He tells you lowly and softly in your ear, and you let him adjust your body, praying he doesn't feel the increasing heat radiating off of you.

He grips your hips and pulls them back against him so you're pressing directly into him.

"There you go, just like that." He says, and your breath hitches at the suggestive words and how he's handling you.

"The recoil can be a lot, so keeping your hips back and one leg slightly in front will keep you stable when you shoot." He says into your ear, hand still tightly gripping your hips, and you bite your lip and nod your head, afraid to make a sound that could possibly give away how nervous and aroused you were in this moment. You could feel him getting hard behind you, and you could feel how big he was, but you resisted grinding back into him.

Simon released his hold on your hips and brought his hands up and around yours. You noted how big his hands were compared to yours, making you blush yet again. He was so close and just so big compared to you, and you yourself weren't even that small.

"Now, lift this up a little more." He says, lifting the weapon up higher in your grasp.

He moves his left hand up yours up under the barrel of the gun a little more, helping you hold it as his right helps you keep your hand in place off the trigger until ready to shoot.

"There we go, atta girl, just like that." He says, and you swear he's gotta be doing this on purpose now. You feel yourself start to grow wetter between your legs as you start to throb, biting your lip even harder now, trying your hardest to not let out a moan at his words.

"Now." he says, as he moves his finger over yours to place it on the trigger.

"Shoot." He says into your headphone-covered ear.

As you press the trigger, the recoil thrusts you back, making you grind back into Simon abruptly, and he lets out a soft groan, and his hands fly back to your hips after you shoot. His noise almost distracting you from your perfect shot on the target, hitting the bullseye.

"Ha!" You yell out in excitement seeing your successful shot.

"Look Simon! bullseye!" You giggle and jump a little with joy, forgetting that your ass is literally pressed up against Simon's cock through his cargos. Your ass rubs against him as you hop and he ruts his hips into you and lets out a sharp moan, squeezing your hips again.

"Good job bunny." He says and smiles, and you remember the position you both are in, and you feel the shyness creep back into you.

You turn your head around to look up at him, still holding the weapon with both hands.

"Told you I could do it." You smirk up at him.

You notice Simon doesn't move from his position and how his hands don't leave their place on your hips. You're not oblivious to what he's doing either, but it's fun to tease him and act like you have no clue.

You go to turn the safety off, and as you do, you lean forward a bit more than needed just to press against him again, and you feel him twitch in his pants this time.

You turn around, and place the gun in his hands that left your hips for a second due to your new position.

"What's the matter Lieutenant, can't handle being wrong?" You tease.

Simon doesn't say anything and he goes to put the gun away. You turn back around to admire your perfect hit, and soon feel that familiar warmth behind you again as Simon presses himself into you again.

"Can't handle you looking so fucking good all the time and just being so perfect at everything." He says.

You laugh. "Was this your plan hm? To get me down here just to have me alone?" You ask.

"Maybe." Simon answers and smiles into your neck, hands going back to your hips again.

"Slut." You say.

Simon then bends you over the shelf of the shooting range booth as much as he can and he grabs your hair.

"Fuck you're such a tease aren't you?" He says.

You moan at the feeling of him manhandling you and pressing his weight into you.

"Only to you." You smile.

"God you're so fuckin small against me. And that fuckin shirt. Was practically eye fucking you all night." Simon continues to grind into your ass.

You let out a little whine at his words, pressing back into him, feeling him get fully hard this time.

"Yeah? show me what you were thinking of then Lieutenant." You say, and you know this was just the beginning of the night for the both of you.

a/n: There could very possibly be a pt 2 to this. Lmk if y'all would want that 🫣

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 24 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: "But the courage he had bolstered on his descent to the Black Dread crumbled at the sight before him." Word Count: 6499 CHAPTER WARNINGS: A n g s t 🥲, mention of the term dwarf, Aegon being weird with crab legs.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: I hope y'all enjoy this chapter, and it was worth the wait.

Like every ball before this one, Aemond was in a state of agonizing torture for its duration. Though this feeling was tenfold for reasons that were clad in ivory, sitting before his family’s table at the far right, close but out of reach. The agitation that tightened his muscles and carved into his bones was unsettling as he tried to diagnose its origin. When did it start, when did it get worse, and when will it get the best of him? He tried to take a page out of his brother’s book and drown his emotions in wine, which did help his muscles relax, but beyond that, it was not a cure. 

He sat on the far right end of the table, Aegon on his left, Helaena seated between him and Daeron, then their mother. On the Queen’s left was the King, his hand, and then sat Daemon, Jace, and Luke. The ten faced the entirety of the grand hall, within perfect view of everyone and the mind-numbing entertainment that followed. With Aegon cackling as he did, spitting out food and drink next to him, Aemond was very nearly at the end of his rope of patience. His only solace was that Lucerys was completely out of eye sight, because he was just as boisterous on his end of the table.

But her laughter and smile tethered him to the chair. Valeana became more and more of her old self when she drank, he realized. Perhaps a little more brazen when she is completely out of her wits, but still, he could see remnants of the little Valeana he once knew. Easily amused by crude humour and childish jokes, enraptured by stories that have been told a thousand different ways, awed by two-bit magicians who hide their cards in their sleeves so obviously, it pained him to witness. He remembered that one of her favourite tricks he used to do was pull a coin or a ring, a seashell or an interesting pebble from behind her ear. 

She’d always demand him to tell her how he did it and he would deny her the satisfaction, because if she knew the trick he would never get to witness the awe in her face. He forced himself to bow his head when he found himself smiling at the memory. Luckily, no one saw him, least of all his own personal fool that sat right beside him. 

There was a team of dwarves reenacting the battle of the Step Stones comically, with one man dressed as a red dragon, and the other as a giant crab. Aemond hardly paid attention, his eye too focused on Valeana’s profile to even register that Aegon turned to him until he spoke. 

“Aemond,” his elder brother whispered harshly next to him. When Aemond did not respond, Aegon stressed his name again. 

“What?”

“Maris is on the other side of the hall.” 

When Aemond slowly turned to Aegon, he was met with a shit-eating grin that he desperately wanted to punch repeatedly. 

Aegon went on, unperturbed by his brother’s threatening leer, “I just thought I’d remind you, since you seem to have forgotten her already.” He cleared his throat and flushed it down with wine before reaching out for a plate on his left and bringing it between them. “Try the crab legs, brother, they’re delicious.”

Aemond ran his tongue over his teeth, remaining silent lest he say something that his brother could use against him. Aegon plopped some of the legs onto his plate, and looked up at his younger brother. 

Without breaking eye contact, he pulled up two legs that were still connected, “My favourite part is cracking them open before I slurp up their insides.” 

Aemond’s hand curled around his dinner knife, knuckles white with the insatiable desire to plunge it into Aegon’s eye. Instead, he spoke lowly, only for his brother to hear, “Iksā iā qrīdropagon naejot īlva lentor.” (You are a disgrace to our family). 

Aegon sucked up a piece of crab meat through the crack he made in the thigh, he chewed twice before swallowing, “You know I do not know what that means.” 

Aemond slowly turned away from him, returning his eye back to Valeana and allowed his hand to relax from its grip on the knife. The dwarves’ play had ended and the fool’s bard, Quintyn Quicktongue, took over.

A short time later, the entertainers left the floor empty when the musicians began to play. It was not a formal dance, with no required steps and prior lessons to fulfill. Just mindless instrumentals for couples to dance at their leisure now that people were too into their cups to manage a more structured dance. Aegon slipped away sometime before that, muttering about needing to take a piss. He hobbled through the small exit behind them, probably to find a planter or a window to relieve himself in. 

Now without his presence, Aemond was able to relax in his chair. He fiddled with the goblet in his hand, trying to keep his mind occupied with a checklist of duties, lest he allow the alcohol he had been consuming all evening take over his senses and make him impulsive. It was difficult, because the more feral part of his brain begged him for freedom, urging him that it would liberate his soul if he just acted upon instinct. And his instinct was telling him to spur Maris Baratheon and sweep Valeana Celtigar off her feet and kidnap her like some Ironborn savage does with a salt wife. 

Before he could pull himself from his chair, his mother was at his side, leaning into his ear, commanding his attention with her sharp tone – the one he had always associated with motherhood. 

“Ask Valeana to dance before your brother has a chance to make a fool of himself,” upon announcing her request, his eye flickered over to the girl in question. It was too late to even decide to listen to his mother, because Aegon had already got to the table, returning from wherever he went to slither in front of Valeana. 

Aemond shared a look with his mother; he did not have to say a word, neither did she. Her lips pulled into a frow, and she settled back into her chair, glancing over to the Lord Hand.

The sight of Valeana smiling up at his brother and at how comfortable she appeared in his presence made his stomach churn. Aemond downed what remained in his goblet and swiftly stood up, excusing himself by planting a kiss on the side of Helaena’s head. 

“Watch for salt-hungry eyes, Aemond. She will drown in them,” Hel’s warning only made him hesitate for a brief second. He was not in the headspace to decode his sister’s madness, so he just gave her a nod and left. 

His departure had gained the eye of Maris, which he would rather avoid presently. Her neck lengthened as she tried to catch his attention from her table, but Aemond pretended he had not noticed, and instead slipped into the side entrance to the hall, into the corridor that was occupied by various guests and servants serving a variety of hand-held foods. 

“Leaving already?” Ser Criston caught his attention. The kingsguard lingered against a wall, observing the patrons of the Ball diligently. 

“I needed air,” Aemond confessed, leaning his shoulder against the wall next to him. “There are too many people in there.”

Cole nodded, “Every family in the Seven Kingdoms; even some Dornish families are here.” 

A servant passed by with a platter of oysters on a bed of salt. The white cloak shook his head when offered, but Aemond needed to preoccupy his fidgety hands, so he plucked one off and then the servant left them to their conversation. The oysters were already pried open at the mouth, so a dirk wasn’t needed to shuck it open.

“Bit ironic serving those on Maiden’s Day,” Cole observed, watching as his prince slowly opened the oyster up, revealing the soft meat inside. “Oysters are aphrodisiacs, known to increase the libido of a grown man or woman, yet the pearls inside are symbols of virtue and virginity.” 

Aemond did not say anything, instead took the half with the tongue and brought it to his lips, slurping up the salty meat in one go. There was something hard and pebbled that landed in his tongue when he swirled the morsel in his mouth. Taking the empty shell, he spit out a slightly lumpy black pearl. 

“Hm,” he eyed it curiously. 

Cole chuckled softly, “You found the lucky oyster, my Prince. Mayhaps you should give it to Lady Maris as a gift.” 

At the mention of her name, Aemond rolled his tongue in his mouth and pursed his lips as if her name was a sour fruit he just tasted. Plucking the pearl from its natural plate, he rolled it around in his fingers, then tossed the shells onto a tray of another servant passing by.

“I am not certain of Lady Maris,” he confessed, his tongue loosened now in the presence of a man that he trusted. For a moment, his eye flickered towards the entrance when one of the Tyrell girls walked through with a tall man with dark hair and a wide, wolfish smile. His cloak told Aemond he was a Greyjoy, and his sharp blue eyes when they met Aemond’s cold lilac one told him he was Dalton. 

“Prince Aemond,” the ironborn nodded, and the Tyrell curtsied when they passed by. 

Aemond’s only response was a simmered glare and a flare of his nostrils. 

Cole, oblivious to the interaction aside from a glance of acknowledgement, went on to ask why that was. 

“It is a smart match, Aemond, and a compatible one. What is it that pulls you away from her?”

His fingers played around with the pearl in his palm, “She has started to bore me.” 

There was clear exasperation in Cole’s features, distinctively paternal in its nature. “You are starting to sound like your brother.”

He might as well have called him a bastard and a coward, because being compared to Aegon was just as great of an insult. The pearl rolled along between his fingers, the lump pushing painfully against his skin as he clutched it. 

“I do not wish to chain myself to a woman that I can lose regard for so easily,” he argued.

“Give it time, Aemond. Most marriages are not built on love and attraction initially. With Maris, you already have much in common, so much so that your conversations span hours I’ve noticed. You can do worse.” 

But he could do better, much better. He wanted what was his all along, what was now being stolen by either his brother or his nephew. What could have been his, had it not been for his ego; had it not been for his over thinking mind at odds with his weak heart; had it not been for him allowing those around him to influence his motivations. 

His mind drifted back to that day when he returned from a flight with Vhagar, where Valeana approached him at the main gate. She wished for peace and he had slighted her. His pride was wounded that day and he was spurred with the paranoia that she was a monster out to destroy him. Aemond rejected her, which he justified was the right thing to do, because she had hurt him when she ran into Aegon’s arms and bed, to do whatever it is they did in his bedchambers that night. It did not even cross his mind he might have driven her into his arms after what he had done to her in the library, because the sounds he heard that night ripped through his mind and down to his ribs, seizing him in anger and selfish pain.

Emboldened by a new wave of resentment at the mental reminder of his belief that Valeana was his brother’s newest lover, Aemond pulled himself off the wall and pocketed the pearl. He did not know the intricacies– nor understood them entirely –of Aegon’s arrangement he had with her. Whether it was built on the foundations of Valeana’s vengeance or Aegon’s innate desire to orchestrate chaos, it was clear that lust became a consequence of it. Mayhaps it began with Aegon, knowing his brother’s insatiable appetite for bodily pleasures, and with Valeana’s new nature of seeking out attention where she could, she was all too eager to allow Aegon to have his way. But then that begged the question: did Valeana take lovers before she came back? Was this a new trait that developed over the last decade?

Floris hadn’t mentioned in her rantings about Valeana luring men into her bed, she had only talked about Val’s need to seek out pity by mimicking a trapped spirit, pacing the corridors of her castle. Even as children, boys paid her little mind, unlike her younger sister Shyla, who was regarded as the prettiest of the three. Even Floris had suitors every once in a while, but her nature tended to send them in the opposite direction.

The cogs in Aemond’s mind turned and turned, and all Criston could do was watch him with a furrowed brow, and a concerned eye. 

“My Prince, is everything alright?”

Then it struck him like a whip; harsher than the lashes he suffered as punishment for his crime against her. 

Valeana never had lovers. She could not have, if the stories of her being reclusive were true. He’s never seen her around men at all, other than her own brothers and…

He shut his eye, feeling a headache spike at this temple. 

Aegon was the first man to show her affection, and like a neglected puppy that didn’t know any better, she leaned into his touch willingly. And Aemond foolishly pushed her into his arms.

“I am fine,” he lied. “I just need some air.”

With that he left the knight to stand there in befuddlement. Aemond sped walked through hall after hall until he found a corner that was blessedly free of guests and of light. The sconce on the wall had burnt out, leaving the corner in blissful shadow, save for the moon that filtered through the small arched window. He leaned against the wall, snugged in the corner and immediately started to press his fingers into his temples. Aemond’s heart was pounding in his chest, steadily reminding him with every beat that his mind could not protect it any longer, because he was too much of a bloody fool. 

He had managed to ease the tension in his skull after a while, and his heart rate lowered with the comfort of the darkness that hugged and shielded his figure. Though he could do nothing to cure the dull ache in his chest, because all he could see were her sad eyes that she only had for him. And her smile that now belonged to Aegon. 

The sound of women’s shoes tapping against the flagstone in his direction made him freeze. He had no desire to see anyone, new or otherwise, but perhaps if he stayed as still as possible they would not notice him.

They didn’t, but he did. Her sudden appearance was electrifying in its fortuitous timing. 

Valeana sped by him, head bowed as she braced a hand on her left thigh through her skirts. She appeared to be limping, though just barely, it was enough to spur Aemond into following her, veiling his yearning for her with a concern over her wellbeing. But as she rounded the corridor and found the entrance to the cellars below, he did not call out to her. Instead he hesitated until he heard her safely reach the bottom to Balerion’s resting place. 

Aemond found himself in a state of uncertainty and fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of her ire. Fear of failing. Fear of heartbreak. Fear of her. He shut his eye and imagined Vhagar, a near two-century old beast; formidable, ancient, terrifying, battle-hardened, living longer than the beast below ever had. And he, Aemond Targaryen, claimed her, the oldest and largest dragon in the world, who has known more war and bloodshed than any dragon before her, post Doom of Valyria.

He could claim Valeana Celtigar too. 

Hurdling down the spiral stairs, Aemond curled his fingers into a fist, bounding his will in determination and unwavering resolve. Swallowing his fear and reservation, much like he had done as a child approaching Vhagar, he forced himself to breach the line of no return. 

But the courage he had bolstered on his descent to the Black Dread crumbled at the sight before him. 

There Valeana sat upon the bench, her ivory and rose gown pulled up to the crest of her hip and thigh, where a leather corset was being tugged loose. Her pale knee peaked out through a gap between the harnesses that secured her thigh to the dark wooden appendage that was her leg. She had freed her thigh from the laced harness and then reached down to tug the wooden leg off with a groan of relief. 

Aemond’s mouth popped open at the sight of her leg, bound in linen from the top of her calf and around the stump where muscle and bone cut off. Half her calf gone, her ankle, gone, her foot, gone. For the first time in years, he felt his vacant eye ache from socket to scar. The scarred tissue that was once his eyelids fluttered around the sapphire that now filled the empty space, feeling the ghost of the dagger that traumatized it for life. 

His entire world came crashing down on him in the instant; everything that he thought he knew, and everything he said and did in the moon’s time that Valeana had returned. He had the knowledge that her leg was healed and she was able to walk, and while half was true, the evidence of his most heinous crime glared at him like his sapphire eye every morning in the looking glass. 

Aemond’s memory begun to torture him as it spun and wove tapastries of his misdeeds. The library, where he had pushed her, the shoe he had found when he tried to find her. Dragging her drunkard self in haste through the castle by her wrists. How he made her run after his bloody horse, whilst she pleaded for reconciliation— gods, he felt sick. 

The urge to flee from her was potent, but the leer of the Black Dread would not have his cowardice that day. Frozen in time, Aegon the Conqueror's dragon seemed to snarl at him for even considering it. 

The whimper she let out from her lips as she massaged her thigh was what did him in. It just plunged him into the waters of his remorse and self-hatred. The shocking need to help her as he once did as children took control of his limbs and his lungs; it was instinct, despite his overwhelming dread and shame. 

Her name on his lips and his step forward brought his presence known to her. Her spine straightened from the intrusion, and when her head whipped around to see him standing there, he knew she wasn’t prepared for anyone to find her in that state, least of all him. 

Lightning surely struck down her spine. The level of shock and dread that filled her to see him standing there, witnessing her in this state was a whole nother level of humiliating. Every hair on her body raised on end as her mind frantically went into survival mode. Valeana forced her trembling arms and hands to move and grab her prosthetic to put it back on, but she fumbled, and the wooden appendage clattered on the floor, causing her to gasp a soft: ‘no!’ 

Aemond was there in an instant, on his knee at her side and grasping her prosthetic with tender hands. Had she not been in such a fretful mind, she would have noticed how his fingers trembled just as much as hers. 

“Here, let me–” 

“No–” She wretched her leg from his hands with a sniffle. Without looking at him, she quickly slotted her stump into place and adjusted her knee around the leather harnesses. Lacing the corset to secure it around her thigh was another challenge though, because with her shaking digits she was having a difficult time weaving the strings through the holes. 

His balmy hand stopped hers and she couldn’t help but flinch and freeze under the contact. By now she was looking down at her leg through a blurred veil of salty tears, barely witnessing his fingers delicately lace the corset, one hole at a time. Valeana forced herself to sit still, concentrating on the hum of music above them and the short laboured breaths she was allowing herself. When Aemond got to the end of the corset, he tugged at the strings, causing her to flinch. 

“Is that too tight?” His question was as soft as his touch, and it made her chest ache. 

“No… No, it’s perfect.” 

At her approval, he began to tie the laces, twice to secure its place. Once he was done, his fingers did not move from her thigh. They remained where they were, above the hemline where leather met flesh. His thumb moved along the stitching and over her soft skin. His touch felt like licks of fire and every time it happened, her teeth sunk further into her lip to stop herself from making a noise. Eventually Aemond’s hands journeyed south, stopping at the peak of her white knee through the dark material, and that is where his head dipped until his nose hovered over the joint, almost as if he was going to kiss it. 

“Does it hurt?” The question was so silent that she thought she had imagined it. 

Swallowing, she shook her head and answered tentatively, “I’m used to it.” 

The admittance sent a shuddered breath through him, making his shoulders buckle at the weight of his transgressions. She could feel his hands gently tighten around the curve of her knee, even through the leather harnesses that framed it. Then his forehead fell onto her thigh, which was a strong enough gesture for her to shut her eyes and free the tears that clung to her lashes.

After a while she could hear and feel him speak; the vibrations of his timbered voice rattled her joints and burned her skin. 

“Valeana, I had no idea–” 

Her sadness and longing battled her anger and her resentment. She wanted this, didn’t she? She wanted him on his knees, to kiss the wound he inflicted on her, and beg her for her forgiveness. She wanted him to want her, to feel his fingers on her exposed skin. But why now? Why did he cave now, after all this time? Spurring her at every interaction, then coming close and then pulling away with such animosity she was convinced that she was the one who pulled out his eye.

Was it because she was now coveted by two other men? Aegon did say that Aemond was possessive when his things were being used by others. This is what the plan was afterall, but now it was coming into fruition it just tasted bittersweet. If she was not with Aegon, if Jace was not tasked with the mission to woo her into a betrothal, would Aemond be there with her, or would he be dancing with Maris until the hour of the wolf? 

Ultimately her anger won, despite her sadness dampening its rigid edges. Even in the softness of her tone, the bite was still there when she spoke. 

“It does not matter, Aemond,” she pushed away his shoulders, shoving him away from her leg so she could return her skirts and preserve her dignity. “Leg, or no leg, the consequence of your actions has cost us a friendship we’ve developed since infancy, if there ever was one.”

She might as well have taken his own sword and shoved it through his chest. Aemond’s head was still bowed, incapable of looking at her and facing the truth of her words. He was a man defeated, something that Valeana had tried to manifest for half her life in the privacy of her own mind. Though she could not help feeling that she was just as defeated as well, because her loss had never been rectified.

“I will make it up to you,” again, he spoke so softly it was painful to hear it. 

“I am done trying to forgive you–”

“I know,” his voice rose a desperate octave, but then returned to its original state. “I know I do not deserve it. But, I will rectify all that I’ve done.” 

Valeana shut her eyes tightly. She was so tired of getting hurt by this man, but somehow she was incapable of refusing to move from his storm of arrows that penetrated her body over and over again. And now that she was the one with the bow, she found it was difficult to let go of the string. 

“Do not bother, Aemond,” she forced herself to say. Her voice strained at the resistance of her heart. “Mayhaps it is better if we part ways equally. You with Maris, and I with–” 

“No! Do not say it,” the sudden rise of volume jostled her. Now she had no choice but to look at him. His lilac eye glistened with unshed tears, a sight of which she did not think was possible on Aemond Targaryen. His nose was pink, and his lips were plush and swollen as they wobbled. There was a faint pull she felt under her skin, giving her the sudden need to capture those lips with her own. But she refrained. 

“I do not want her,” Aemond continued, pushing those words through his teeth with a low growl. “I want… I want you. I-I need you.” His other knee met the floor, the weight of his grief causing him to sink into her lap. Aemond’s forehead and nose buried itself in the valley between her skirt-covered legs and his hands desperately grasped onto her phantom limb, tugging it to chest.

“I miss you.” 

Valeana’s will absolutely crumbled. She let out a world-shattering sob; the air that left her lungs was the breath she had been holding in for ten years. Her body folded over him, with her own desperate hands flinging onto his shoulders and fingers tangling in his hair. 

“I miss you too.”

Aemond sharply inhaled as if his bodily instinct was to try to repress any sound that would betray how vulnerable he was. His shoulders tensed under her before he slowly lifted his head from her lap. They were so close that their noses bumped into each other. Through the blur of tears she concentrated on his good eye, while her right hand shifted down to his cheek, where her thumb grazed the ridge of his scar.He shut his eye when he felt her digit dip underneath his patch and slowly pushed it over his forehead, leaving him completely bare before her. 

Valeana swallowed as she gazed upon the endless sea of his sapphire eye, framed by the gnarled pinked flesh that used to be his eyelids. It twitched underneath the light touch of her fingertips, and she wondered if it still pained him like her leg. She wondered if there were times he thought he could feel his eye, or his lashes graze his cheeks when he blinked. She wondered if it was the most painful thing in the world when it happened. Her forehead slowly landed on his brow, her lips hovering over his gem eye, nose buried in the corner of it. 

They were just two broken individuals, trying to fill their empty spaces with each other. 

“I thought you hated me,” his whisper reached her ear, tickling the hair strewn against her face. 

“I thought I did too,” she replied, voice soft and coarse. “I wanted to. But even when you made it so easy for me to–And I do mean easy.” 

The corner of Aemond’s lip twitched ruefully, and his grip on her leg tightened closer to his chest. 

“I couldn’t,” she finished, brushing her fingers through his hair. He leaned into her touch, letting their noses bump and align with each other. She swallowed thickly when she was staring back at his beautiful lilac eye, framed by his dark blonde eyelashes so long she could feel them ghost her own. “Why did you push me?”

A question that he dreaded to answer, but she deserved one nonetheless. She felt his hand move from her leg to cup the side of her face, fingers curling around the shell of her ear and thumb roaming over the mound of her cheek, collecting the tears under his calloused pad. 

“I was terrified of you. Of what you were doing to me,” he shifted between her legs, adjusting himself so he was now holding both sides of her face. Aemond pulled away from her so he could look at her properly, earnestly, “I have been childish and cruel to you, my friend. I am so sorry, Valeana… For everything I’ve taken from you. For everything I’ve done since then. And I know… I know I pushed your heart into… his hands.” 

Valeana closed her eyes and sniffed deeply at the mention of Aegon. A new feeling that she was not accustomed to, that she was not willing to let go just yet. It tugged at her heart in the knowledge of her own conflicted mind. Had it been weeks ago, even when her resentment was fresh and untethered, she would have taken Aemond right then and there. Defiled her white dress and committed her body, heart and soul to him in sickness and in health. But even in his groveling, his heartfelt apology that her soul desperately craved, the apprehension gripped her throat. She was afraid to get hurt again, afraid that she will find another mistake in Aemond, afraid that she may never forgive him. But now she found something uncomplicated. 

Aegon felt safe, Aegon felt secure, but Aegon also felt… unknown. 

“But I will spend the rest of my life in dedication in the pursuit of being worthy of your forgiveness. Worthy of your touch. Worthy of your lips. Worthy of the air you breathe. I need you to know that I am yours, should you still want me. If you ever did.” 

“Aemond I–” she desperately wanted to say it. There was a visceral need to tell him she always did, but that doubt clawed at her throat, preventing her heart from speaking on her behalf. “My life has become so complicated. My father wants me to try to court Jacaerys at his behest, and then there’s—”

“Shh,” he gently hushed her with urgency, desperately wanting to keep his name from her lips. “You need not decide now. Take your time. I’ll wait for you.” Aemond gently nudged her face down so he could place a kiss upon her forehead, and that’s where his lips hovered. “But I only ask for one thing.”

Valeana blinked rapidly, trying to clear the remnants of her tears, “What is it?”

“Dance with me,” he pulled away to look upon her again. “It has been my greatest desire all eve.”

Her brow slightly furrowed as she continued to blink, an expression so adorable he could not help but smile at it. 

“I do not think I am in the right state of mind to go back upstairs, Aemond.”

The prince gently shook his head, “Not up there. Right here, where our only witness is Balerion’s ghost.” 

At the mention of the dragon, her eyes shift over to the massive skull that had been staring upon them the entire time. Valeana almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it; imagining the largest dragon to ever exist being forced to watch such a pathetic display of human emotion. She did not know anything about the dragon’s temperament, but she doubted Aegon the First’s dragon was as sentimental as Dreamfyre or even Syrax. 

Valeana returned her eyes onto Aemond, a small smile breaking her pout as she gave a single nod, “I think I can handle that.” 

They ascended with Aemond’s firm but gentle grip on her arms. He handled her as if she was just learning how to walk again, as if her legs would collapse underneath her if he let go. Her leg had a dull ache, but it was barely there compared to the state it was minutes ago. When they stood at full height, they took a moment to assess each other as if for the first time in years. 

Valeana reached out and fixed his eye patch, securing it over his eye, and cleaned up the stray hairs and righted his skewed circlet. Aemond brushed his fingers over her ear, tucking back wayward stands before moving to her neck where he adjusted her simple white gold and ruby necklace. 

Once they were satisfied, Aemond's hand found the small of her back and the other took her’s before pulling her body into him. Valeana’s other hand found Aemond’s shoulder with ease and now with her chest pressed against his, she had to crane her neck to look up at him. There was still the hum of music above, subtle enough that they were able to hear their own breathing, but loud enough that they could find a rhythm to their movements.

No words were spoken, just peridot and amethyst staring into each other. There was no extravagance to their waltz; their steps were slow and shallow, but they moved around in a circle before Balerion in grace and poise. 

“You’ve gotten better,” Valeana broke the silence, the comment lifting the heaviness of the mood that they had sowed earlier. 

“Hm,” Aemond allowed himself to smirk, “I had a good teacher.” 

Her lips twitched as her smile broadened, filling his chest with warmth and hope. “You were a terrible student.” 

“Mayhaps it was because I was distracted.”

“Distracted by what? We were alone.”

He hummed in amusement, his head bowed slightly so his nose grazed over the crest of her head. She spotted his tongue flick out and run over his coiled lip, causing a ripple of heat go through her body. 

“You developed breasts then, and they were so soundly pressed against me–”

“Oh my gods, Aemond,” she buried her face into his shoulder when her face burned. “You were a little pervert all along.” 

He chuckled whilst nuzzling into her hair. A rare sound, one that she had not heard for half her life. It was sweeter than strawberries and richer than whipped cream. 

“You left bruises, you know,” Val emboldened herself to say, then pulled her face from his shoulder to meet his furrowed brow. “From the other night… You littered me with bruises.” 

At the realization of what she meant, his head tilted with a little sparkle in his eye. His lips curved, reminding her of a mischievous little fox. Suddenly Aemond’s hand slid from her back to her front, his long nimble fingers finding the neckline of her bodice. 

“May I see?”

“Aemond!” She swatted his hand away, ignoring the spike of excitement that it brought her. His response was more chuckles, a gift to her ears. Then his hand moved to the side of her face where he pulled her head closer to him so he could plant a kiss upon her forehead, thus causing a frenzy of butterflies in her belly.

This was so very strange if she thought too much about it. Who was this man, and what did he do with Aemond One-Eye? He was almost too familiar to the Aemond she once knew. 

“He’s the same boy you loved, Valeana. Just older, more scarred, and hidden away.”

Valeana smiled to herself. She supposed she found him then. Lifting her head back up, she moved her hand from his shoulder to cup his cheek. The motion made him hum in contentment, leaning into the warmth of her palm before turning his face so he could place a kiss upon it. 

Aemond’s eye flickered then, moving to the side of her face. He blinked a few times before pausing their dancing so he could raise his hand towards her cheek. 

“One moment,” his lips pursed, “You have something just there–” 

He tentatively reached towards her ear, and then with a flick of his wrist he pulled his hand in front of her, cradling a chromatic black pearl with a green sheen and a little lump at the top between his fingers. 

Valeana’s eyes bugged out of her head at the sight of it, her hands flying to her ear as if she would find more hidden behind the cartilage. Aemond’s smile broadened at her reaction, which had never changed after all these years. 

“How did you– Did you have that this entire time?” 

“It was behind your ear–”

“Oh stop,” she playfully chastised, with a limp smack of her hand. 

He quickly took it and gently placed the pearl in the center of her palm, “For you.”

Valeana eyed the precious marble in her palm. She knew its worth, since black pearls were rare, particularly one with this colouring. Though she doubted he cared much for its worth, what made it truly special was how it was given to her, like a promise that they will return to the children they once were.

Aemond’s hands curled around her own, wrapping up the pearl in their fingers. She looked up at him, marveling at his face now that it was so close. He was always so handsome, but now he was ethereal. Angular features cut from marble, crafted by the Valyrian gods. His lips were always her favourite part of his features, next to his unworldly lilac eyes that felt far too soft for a man like him. 

They inched closer, bridging whatever gap that remained between their bodies. But before their noses could even bump into each other, an intrusive voice cut through their peace like a Valyrian steel sword slicing through someone’s skull.

“Oh, well, isn’t this a touching sight.” 

Aemond and Valeana spun around towards the threshold of the stairwell, both instinctively unlatching from each other at being caught in a compromising position.

Leaning against the archway, his hands clasped in front of him, the older prince peered at them with a mocking sense of beguilement. 

“Did I interrupt something innocent, or was dear ol’ Balerion going to bear witness to a deflowering, on Maiden’s Day no less?” Daemon’s eyebrows raised to his hairline, the corner of his mouth tugging into a roguish smirk. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE SNEAK PEAK:

“Who is he?” Valeana asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He seemed familiar, but from this height, she could barely make out his face through all the dirt and sweat. She took a sip of her drink in contemplation. “Dalton Greyjoy.” And then she spat out her drink. 

Notes: Hokay *wipes sweat* we've gone over the enemies arc. Now path to redemption...right? RIGHT? I hope you guys liked this chapter, it was difficult to write, because I wasn't sure if it was satisfying enough. But don't worry, for those that want him to suffer a lil more -- he will. We're almost halfway through the story. Or a little less. I honestly don't know how many chapters this will become. So I'm going to slow down updates to once a week, because now I'm writing more than two stories at the same time. For those who missed it, I'm in the middle of making a lengthy fem!Aegon one shot for funsies...cept it's not very fun, it's actually quite sad :') Hopefully I'll get that finished by wednesday or before.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

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