#i slept so long last night but kept waking up in pain

[kitwilsonsass]

not to be tmi but do you ever just LOSE YOUR FUCKING MIND ON YOUR PERIOD

[buckymorelikefuckme]

fri(end)s

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 3.8k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** friends/roommates to lovers oh my god they were roommates, smoking weed, brief mutual masturbation, frottage (i think that's the right word idfk i'm all out of practice), p in v sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), reader has nipple piercings bc i said so, slight pain kink? mayhaps? ok pls let me know if i’ve missed anything!

a/n: i made this fic my bitch tonight. this is absolutely not proofread or beta'd, you're just gonna have to take it for what it is, sorry not sorry. anyway, it’s been too long since i wrote for this beefy man :’) i really hope you like it. this was originally very loosely inspired by a scene in what’s your number? but it quickly gained a mind of its own to become what it is now, so. there ya go. title is from the song of the same name by V of bts thank you very much. any and all mistakes are my own. feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged!!! xoxo

bucky barnes masterlist || main masterlist

Bucky’s introduction to weed was something you’d been supremely proud of.

When the two of you became roommates, you both had been kind of quiet and kept to yourselves at first, which isn’t too unusual, but you noticed that Bucky almost always had a frown etched into his handsome face. A frown that only ever softened after a night out with his friends and, you assumed, a decent hook-up. It never took long for that frown to reappear, though.

You didn’t know what could have been so stressful for him, but you knew he needed a way to relax, and not just for himself, either. The sight of him glumly moving around the apartment—honestly, you’ve never seen someone make fixing a bowl of cereal look so fucking sad—was beginning to weigh on your own nerves.

So, naturally, you thought of asking him if he’s ever tried weed. Somehow, his frown had deepened at that question. He said no, shocking absolutely no one, and then you asked if he wanted to try it. Admittedly, he was a little hesitant at first, but he eventually agreed.

The way his body, all two hundred and whatever pounds of muscle and angst, sank into the recliner like a ragdoll when the high really hit him made you grin. Though, to be fair, you were already smiling, what with you also being high. It was the first time you saw a real, genuine smile from Bucky, and you were immensely pleased to have given him a way to decompress from whatever kept him so tense all the time.

It became a sort of thing for you two. Saturday nights were for getting high, binge-watching Love Island (UK, because you both have class, thank you very much) and raiding the pantry for all the good snacks when the munchies hit. You’d never tell anyone, but those nights quickly became something you looked forward to every week, something you could cling to when your own life got a little difficult. Who knew smoking weed—and on a few special occasions, doing edibles—with your roommate would make a friendship blossom so prettily?

***

After how late Bucky got in last night, you knew he’d be sleeping in and would more than likely have a hangover. So, for this particular Saturday morning, you get up and quietly start gathering your laundry while Bucky snores loudly into his pillow from his bedroom. You were getting behind on it anyway, down to your last pair of clean shorts.

Before you put them on, though, you purse your lips in thought, staring at your pile of dirty clothes. You didn’t want to put on clean shorts with the panties and shirt you slept in last night. It would be smarter to wash them with the rest of your clothes, right? But that would leave you topless, which, you wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it, but you’re not sure Bucky would appreciate waking up to you walking around with your tits out. Or maybe he would? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts and then remember that Bucky did his laundry yesterday, and knowing him, he probably left at least some of his clean clothes in the dryer. Surely he wouldn’t mind you borrowing a shirt.

With that plan in mind, you dump your clothes into your laundry basket and make your way down the hall to the doors where your washing and drying units are (a major selling point of the apartment, if you’re honest). Just like you thought, Bucky’s left a load in the dryer, and even some of his button-downs are hung up on the drying rack. You quickly pull your t-shirt off, shivering against the cool air, and reach for one of the hangers, slipping his shirt off of it and onto yourself. For a dress shirt, it’s actually quite comfortable, obviously one of the shirts he wears more often with how soft and a little worn the fabric is. You shimmy your panties down your legs and add them to your pile, grabbing your clean shorts and tugging them on, too.

You make quick work of starting your first load of clothes, closing the doors to muffle the sound of the washer, and head back to your room to do your morning routine. By the time you’re done and have also cooked yourself breakfast, Bucky is staggering down the hall and into the kitchen, hair a tangled nest atop his head and eyes bleary.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you greet with a teasing smile.

He flips you off and beelines for the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup and not speaking a word until he’s downed at least half of it. Part of you is concerned for his esophagus, but you’ve long since come to the conclusion that Bucky’s probably got a thing for pain—both physically and emotionally.

“Remind me to tell Sam he isn’t allowed to bring Natasha on our nights out anymore,” he grumbles, voice rough from both sleep and a long night of drinking. “I’ve never taken so many shots of vodka in my life.”

You hum. “Sounds like my kind of woman, actually.” He cuts his eyes at you, silently judging while taking another sip of his coffee. “Want me to fry up some bacon and eggs for you?” You almost laugh at the way his expression immediately switches to pleading.

The rest of the morning is spent finishing your laundry and putting it all away, even gathering up Bucky’s clothes that he’d left and dumping them on his bed. You’ll leave the folding to him, though; your generosity only extends so far, after all.

Lunch rolls around and you both decide to order takeout from the burger place down the street, Bucky shushing you when you keep insistently whispering for him to order extra truffle fries (which he does order, after you’ve sworn pain of death if he doesn’t) and once it arrives, the two of you settle around the coffee table in the living room, putting on a random movie to watch while you eat.

And of course, when the sun begins to lower on the horizon, you start pulling out your stash and getting everything ready. Bucky’s already got the windows open in the living room to let the smell air out as you smoke, and he also has Love Island queued up and ready to go.

While you smoke the first joint, you make the conscious decision to bake a small batch of brownies for later. Bucky sits on the counter beside you, passing the joint back and forth as he quietly watches you work. Wordlessly, you hand over the bowl and spoon to him after you’ve poured the batter into the awaiting pan. No matter how many times you’ve tried to warn him about salmonella he always insists on licking them clean.

Sometimes, in these moments, you forget how surly he used to be with you. Not that he was ever rude or anything, but he never would have pouted about not being able to eat raw brownie batter before you helped him break down some of those walls of his.

***

“He’s such a dick,” Bucky mumbles a while later, face impassive and tone bland as he refers to one of the islanders of the show, slouching so deeply into the couch he’s practically become one with it.

The high from the first joint is finally kicking in fully, doing its job of releasing every ounce of tension from your bodies. It’s also making your mouth dry and tummy rumble for snacks. Thank god you made those brownies and Bucky unearthed some candy from past movie nights and lots of chips out of the pantry cabinets.

You hum at his comment. “Most men are.”

Bucky turns his head in your direction with an affronted expression that has you snickering. He goes to reply, giving you the sassiest once-over you’ve ever seen, but his eyes doubletake on your torso and he pauses. He stares for a moment.

“That’s my shirt,” he states.

You look down at the shirt in question, of which you’ve worn all day long and somehow he’s only just now noticing.

“Wow, you’re like Sherlock Holmes or something,” you drawl.

Bucky stares some more, and then, “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

“Because I had laundry to do and I needed something to wear while all my stuff was washing,” you say in a “duh” tone.

“But…” He frowns. “It’s my favorite.”

You snort inelegantly. “Bucky, you literally have, like, at least four other white dress shirts.”

“So? What, I can’t have a favorite one just because I have more of the same color?”

“Christ,” you say on an exasperated exhale. “I’ll give it back before bed, okay? I don’t wanna move right now. I’m scared I’ll bump into stuff again.”

Bucky huffs a laugh at that, which turns into a full-blown giggle fit that is contagious. Soon after your shared laughter dies down, the conversation moves back to the illicit love triangles among the islanders. You trash talk the couple that Bucky likes, just to see him get riled up and rant about how they’re the most real couple of the season and everyone else is just jealous. He gets red in the face and pouty when you remind him that this is a heavily produced show about pretty people getting a chance to get famous for being pretty people by hooking up with each other and playing stupid games that mean nothing in the grand scheme of it all. Really, it’s quite cute.

To placate him, though, you get a second joint rolled and let him take the first hit.

***

Turns out this second one hits you rather harder than normal. It feels like your head is a balloon and your neck is the string tethering it to the rest of your body. Everything feels much more sluggish compared to all the other times you’ve gotten high with Bucky. Somewhere in the depths of your hazy brain you remember that you’d gotten a different brand this time around; perhaps that’s why.

On the tv, the islanders are getting ready for bed, and once the lights go out in their room, some of the couples engage in some serious heavy petting, lifting their comforters for a semblance of privacy. The sounds start next, sighs and low moans, and it all begins to settle into your subconscious. Between one lazy blink and the next, you realize you’re… actually kind of horny. It’s not enough for you to really pay attention to it, not at first, just a little sprinkle of it, a tiny twist in your core that briefly has you pressing your thighs together then relaxing again.

But then the arousal builds up inside you so slowly and easily that you don’t even realize your hand has apparently grown a mind of its own and found its way down your shorts. You inhale sharply at the touch of your fingers against your clit, lashes fluttering as the sensation registers. The sound gains Bucky’s attention from where he's been lounging on the opposite end of the couch with his head tipped back and eyes closed.

They’re not closed anymore. Out of your peripheral, you see his head shift in your direction, feeling the weight of his stare like a physical thing. Your mind is both connected and disconnected from your actions, half-aware that this is probably not the smartest thing to be doing, that you’re absolutely crossing a major boundary. Touching yourself in this way in front of your roommate, your friend, is so not normal.

Yet, for some idiotic reason, you leave your hand down your shorts, continuing to lightly pet at your clit, neediness rising steadily. Even though you know he’s watching—and suspiciously quiet—you can’t help but let your fingers slither down to where you’re beginning to drip to gather some of your slick and bring it back to your clit and swirling your fingers at a sedate pace, sighing as your nipples tighten underneath your shirt.

Bucky is as still as a statue, gaze honed in on the movement of your hand, on how your thighs ease open more and more the longer you play with your pussy.

It takes very little time for your eyes to wander over to the man just a couple feet away, and to then notice and fixate on the growing bulge in Bucky’s sweatpants. The weight of his stare is almost a physical thing and you swallow roughly as you think about what he might look like, if he’s at all how you’ve secretly imagined when you’re alone in your bedroom, in much the same position as you are in now.

His hands creep towards his thighs and smooth down the expanse of them and back up, slowly, over and over, like he’s teasing himself. Like he’s teasing you. Your fingers don’t stop as you lift your other hand to tweak and pinch at your nipples through well-worn cotton, a tiny noise slipping past your dry lips.

Bucky pulls the hem of his shirt up, exposing part of his toned stomach and only hesitates for a split second before he lowers the waistband of his pants, pulling his cock out and matching the pace of his strokes with the pace of your fingers. The head of his cock is pink and precum makes it shine under the low light of the lamps in the living room.

You bite your lip as your arousal increases from the sight alone, and you decide to follow his lead, just a bit. You whine from the loss of stimulation when you remove your hand to shimmy your shorts down and off your legs, letting them fall to the floor carelessly. And now, Bucky has an unrestrained view of your glistening cunt as you sink two of your fingers inside yourself and use your other fingers to rub all around your clit. It has you gasping, eyelids threatening to close through the pleasure that sparkles throughout every vein in your body.

It’s good. Amazing, even. And it’s only making you want more. Bucky, it seems, feels much the same.

“C’mere,” he rasps, tone leaving no room for arguing, never mind that you wouldn’t have argued anyway.

You sit up on the couch, knee-walking over to where he’s still in his slumped position, never pulling your hand away from your clit because it feels like you’d cry if you did. Bucky curses under his breath and lets go of his cock to firmly grab you by the hips and tug you onto his lap. Your pussy ends up aligned perfectly with his cock, and you both shudder as you begin gliding back and forth across it, small movements that only increase the suspense of what likely comes next. He meets your eyes, red and glazed over from both the high and the toe-curling feeling of his cock along your wet center.

The kiss, when it happens, tastes like weed and the peanut M&M’s you both were snacking on just a little while ago. Bucky's tongue licks into your mouth like he can’t get enough, nips at your bottom lip to hear you whimper, gets a fistful of your hair and pulls and guides you until you’re pliant for him.

He knocks your hand away from your clit, but before you can complain about it he’s nudging the head of his cock against your entrance and you’re gasping all over again, grinding sloppily as you try to get him inside you. He finally sinks the head in and you allow gravity to aid you in taking the rest of him, moaning brokenly and high pitched at the stretch of him inside you. Bucky groans deep in his chest, hands clutching your waist like a lifeline as you slowly circle your hips, getting used to the feeling.

You stay like that for a few minutes, your breath and Bucky’s mixing hotly between you, and then you finally start fucking yourself on his cock. He grunts when you clench around him on the downstroke. You decide you like the sound, and you really wanna hear it again, so you repeat the action, moaning when the grunt is accompanied by a curse and his fingernails biting into your skin.

It takes what feels like ages for you to realize your thighs and knees ache from riding him, the weed making everything feel like it’s floating, including yourself, but Bucky sees the furrow in your brows and the shaking strain of your legs, and in the next second, he’s got you both moved from the couch to the floor. Time ticks on glacially slow like molasses as you stare up at him whipping his shirt off from where you’re sprawled on the carpet, your limbs shifting lethargically when he spreads your legs to better fit himself between them.

He fucks you hard, but not fast. you’re both much too high for anything fast, yet it still feels like your heart is going to pulse out of your chest, rabbiting away like you’ve run a marathon. Bucky buries his face in your neck, mouthing at your skin while he thrusts almost lazily.

Suddenly, his large hands encapsulate your hips, fingers pressing into the fleshiest parts of them as he sits up, getting his knees under him so he can rest on his haunches. He keeps your ass in his lap and your legs spread on either side of his waist. It makes your back arch and hips tilt up into a position that has you shuddering and sobbing when he begins to grind his thick cock deeper into you.

“I could stay buried in you for hours,” he mutters.

He reaches for the throw pillows on the couch and puts them under your hips, and then he fucks into you so hard it steals the breath right from your lungs, your mouth hanging open on a silent cry. His thrusts are sharper now, angled to perfection and making your toes curl so hard you fear them cramping and body jolt when he glides all the way back in. You gasp when Bucky rips open your shirt (his shirt, your mind helpfully supplies) and sends the buttons scattering across the floor. Those will be a bitch to find and clean up, but that’s a problem for much later.

“Fuck,” he grunts when he sees the piercings glinting in your nipples. “I fucking knew it,” he continues, squeezing each of your breasts in his hands and pinching your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making you gasp again, pushing up into the sensation.

“Knew—“ You cut off with a whine when he pinches harder. “Knew what?”

“You walk around here wearing those goddamn cropped tank tops as tight as possible with no bra. Thought I was going crazy when I saw what looked like piercings underneath them,” he confesses as his hands travel back down to grip your waist, never losing his rhythm while he pulls you down to meet his thrusts.

At the sight of your tits bouncing with the movement of his hips, he groans, gravelly, his top lip curling as he grits his teeth and squeezes your hips so hard it hurts, and it only adds to your pleasure. With the way your skin is tingling, your pussy fluttering around him nonstop, you’re not sure if it’s because Bucky is fucking you that well or if it’s the weed. It’s probably both, and you have a split second thought that you’ll just have to test that theory once the high wears off.

It’s almost ironic, you think, how wet and messy your cunt is compared to how dry your mouth feels. It probably doesn’t help that your jaw seems to be permanently slack as you’re unable to stop your gasping inhales, only to exhale sounds you might be embarrassed about if you were clear-headed. Alas, your mind is a lot more focused on the way Bucky is splitting you open and carving a space inside you all for himself.

“So much better,” you whisper absently, fingers clawing at the carpet beneath you.

“Better than what?” he wonders, shifting to grip under your knees and push them up, changing the angle.

You cry out sharply, writhing uselessly in his hold. “My imagination,” you whimper.

Through bleary, tear filled eyes, you glance up at him just in time to see his lips pull into a boyish smirk.

“Mine too,” he confesses and sends you reeling.

You whine and reach down quickly to rub your throbbing clit, your whole body jerking as your pleasure mounts higher and higher. Bucky moans as he watches, stare trained on where you’re joined. His speed does pick up then, the slightest bit, a shudder wracking his frame as you clench down on him, head tipping back and exposing the long expanse of his throat for a brief moment before he suddenly leans over you, letting your legs fall into the cradle of his elbows.

“Won’t you be good for me and cum?” he asks, breathless, hips never letting up.

You open your mouth to reply but all that comes out is a strangled cry of his name, your fingers keeping their pace as your climax swells until it overflows, bursting like a firework and pleasure like you’ve never felt before sparks through every vein, muscle, and bone within you. Bucky curses in such a way it would make a sailor blush as you pulse around him. The sounds of your orgasm and his thrusts meeting your hips are the filthiest things you’ve ever heard, and it doesn’t stop for several moments, dragging on and on. It leaves you trembling and shaking and trying futilely to gather air in your lungs as he refuses to let up.

With great resolve, you bring your wet fingers away from your sensitive clit and up to his panting mouth. He groans at your taste, licking and sucking on your fingers as he chases his own release.

“Please,” you whisper, tears finally escaping your lashes and trailing down the sides of your face, and that seems to be his undoing.

Bucky moans, something high and broken, fucking into you rough enough that you’re worried about carpet burn. But then he pauses, gasping as he finally lets go and rides out his high.

Your hand slips from his mouth and falls to the floor like a deadweight. The only noise in the room now is the both your and Bucky’s harsh breathing and the television still playing that stupid fucking show. Bucky doesn’t move right away, of which you’re very thankful, because you’re not ready to feel the emptiness you know is coming, and it feels nice in a weird way to have him buried in you.

“Fuck,” he exhales, breaking the relative silence.

It makes you giggle, a small thing that turns into something uncontrollable, and when you manage to look at Bucky, he’s grinning in a dopey way that sets you off even more.

This is definitely something the two of you will have to talk about when you’re both sober, but like the buttons, that can be handled later. Although, something tells you it’ll all turn out just fine.

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 05. ANGEL OF SMALL DEATH

a/n: i am apologizing now and a chapter early because this will be the last bit of happiness before the real angst settles in. i'm talking absolute pain. but for now we get to indulge in logan being content and happy with having his honey exactly how he wants. this chapter wasn't supposed to be this long, but i'm feral for this man. so here we are. enjoy the equivalent to a beach episode in a tv show before the real pain begins!

summary: when the world grows silent and time seems to stand still, you and logan find a reprieve in the serenity of your apartment.

OR nasty fucking him all over the small space until he sees god.

word count: 8k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (m receiving), sloppy toppy to the highest degree, p in v sex, choking, cumplay, spitplay, dirty talk, wade being a peeping tom, just wade, squirting, slightly dom!logan, accidental edging, face fucking, creampie, logan being a freak and his honey matching him entirely.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He slept. For the first time in near a decade, he slept long after the sun rose in the morning sky. He resided in a vast emptiness of nothing but darkness. No nightmares, no screams, no fear that ate his heart bit by bit until all but a shell remained. Merely the echo of your breaths as you lay sprawled across his chest—naked skin pressed intimately atop his.

The curtains on your bedroom window remained open from the day prior—allowing the sun to stream in. Catching across your face and forcing your eyes to open with a squint of displeasure. You stirred gently, a sigh pressed to the hard chest against your cheek. The one that rose and fell in time with his heart beat.

Surprisingly he didn't snore as often as you expected. The first night he spent in your bed he was rigid. Unsure of where to lay, or how to curve around your body. Now he remained a heavy mass that slumped into your soft mattress, one arm spread to your side of the bed and the other a weight on your back.

Even in sleep Logan was adamant on keeping you right there. Pressed tight enough to feel every shift, every deep and sated breath.

A sore ache built between your thighs as you turned your head to look at him—admiring the way his face was devoid of a frown. After the fifth orgasm (three around his cock and two from his mouth) you had no choice but to shove him away. The promise of more on the tip of your tongue—as long as you got a chance to rest.

Although you were positive if he tried to fuck you right away you'd be screaming. And not from pleasure. The raw pain of your still leaking cunt is what kept you from shuffling up his body to sit on his now hard cock. It stirred against your stomach, pressed deliciously on your warm skin. You could feel it begin to drip, pooling against the trail of hair that led downward.

Moving slowly, you managed to maneuver yourself down his body—checking with each shift to see if he remained asleep. The sight made you smile; knowing he felt safe enough to find some solace in a dreamless night here in your bed. You watched him toss and turn on Wade's couch long enough.

For now he’d get a chance to actually breathe peacefully. His body no longer at the ready for a fight that would never come.

"Pretty," you sighed, eyes trailing down his stomach to the patch of hair nestled at the base of his already hard cock.

A pearlescent drop slipped down the vein, his chest a steady rise and fall even as you carefully peeked your tongue out to lick it up. You froze when his body shifted, a heavy sigh falling past his lips. Waking him up was the last thing you wanted—given the state of unrest he found himself stuck in for two weeks—but the thought of finally getting to taste him kept you going.

The salty tang of him spread along your tongue as you licked at his cock again. This time less afraid of feeling his body shift. He seemed to be on the very precipice of consciousness. But sleep would hold him captive for just a bit longer.

You moaned softly when your lips wrapped around him fully—hand gently holding what you may not be able to fit in your mouth. If last night told you anything, it’s that James Howlett was not a small man. In fact you had proof to uphold that statement. Yet that alone wouldn't deter you from taking him as deep as you could; even if you choked.

The stuttered breath that left his chest made your heart race the further you went. Pulling off quickly, you let your spit drip out of your mouth, coating his length to help you slide down a bit easier. The wet echo of your hand filled the room—his breaths deep and raspy as he started to feel the tendrils of pleasure take hold in his body.

Biting back another whine, you swallowed him down until he hit the back of your throat. Your hand a steady rhythm along what you couldn't fit. He pulsed on your tongue; precum dribbled down the back of your throat. The taste made your head spin—his cum now leaking from your spent cunt. Coating the inside of your thighs with a combination of you and him.

A match made in the entanglement of two universes. Colliding into one another without mercy.

"F-fuck," he groaned, hips shifting forward and choking you on his cock. You spluttered for breath as he caused you to gag—spit leaking down to his pubic hair.

Even through your gasps for air and soft breathy whimpers, he remained asleep. Lost in a dream of you sucking his cock greedily back into your mouth. Eyes overflowing with tears and lungs begging for just a bit more oxygen. He fucked your mouth gently, hips thrusting unconsciously to stay in that wet heat. To feel just a bit more of a white hot ecstasy you helped him chase.

Cupping his balls, you felt your spit coat them in a sticky layer. You wanted them in your mouth. Ached to feel them on your tongue. And with a gasp of the crisp morning air, you shifted—sucking on them with a soft moan of need.

Your hand pumped him rapidly, building his high until there was no denying what was happening. Scraping your teeth along the soft skin of his balls, you felt them draw up tightly. Logan's eyes flew open with a sharp gasp of air, his face tilting to see you between his thighs—your chin and mouth covered in a mix of your spit and his precum.

His mouth opened to speak, to give you a filthy comment you'd no doubt feel down your spine. Only for you to take him down your throat in one swift thrust. Tugging sharply on his pulsing balls to draw him right over the edge.

He came with a raw shout of your name, spilling into your mouth with enough cum to choke you. Until it began to leak out around your spread lips—trailing the sticky mess down your hand. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe—head pushed back into the pillow and back arched with the force of his release. And you kept going.

You licked up every trace of his spend with an eager tongue and sighed out moans. A hand yanked you up his body, fingers gripping your chin to keep your mouth open as you looked at him with eyes glazed over—your body covered in a sheet of sweat.

"Share," he rasped, tugging you closer.

Smiling, you cupped his chin and guided his open mouth towards yours. Allowing whatever cum remained on your tongue to drip down onto his awaiting taste buds. The shiver that ran down his body caused you to clench around nothing—empty and aching for this to continue.

He moaned, pulling you in for a kiss that had you clambering into his lap. Your tongue sliding against his and fingers delving into his bedhead of hair. The passion from last night still lingered in your veins. A silent plea for his touch to drag down your naked form; for him to consume you entirely. Yet you remained content like this—in his arms, lazily kissing until you had no choice but to come up for air.

"I can make us breakfast," you murmured, running your thumb along his cheek—your breath a warm caress on his face.

A hum purred in his chest, hands cupping your ass and kneading the flesh with a sleepy grin. "That sounds good."

"Got anything in mind?"

His eyes trailed down your throat to the way your breasts were pushed up against his chest. You felt your nipples tighten at the heat from his gaze. The want in his touch that left you craving for more. Vanessa really wasn't kidding when she told you he'd lock you in this apartment. Ravishing you every way he knew how; showing you everything he learned in his two hundred years on Earth.

"I do," he replied, voice low and thick with sleep.

"Yeah?" He nodded, an air of serenity lighting up his eyes. The sight felt new—unlike the Logan from last night—but you could feel the warmth of it slide down your spine. Encasing you in a cocoon of domesticity that thrived in the afternoon sun. "Pancakes?"

"Mm." Lips trailed along your jaw, tracing the line of your neck with gentle bites that were soothed by his hot tongue. "I've got somethin' else in mind honey."

Heat pooled between your legs, slicking your skin with a fresh wave of arousal. You felt his nostrils flare—your scent thick in the air and drawing out a side of him that begged to take a bite out of your plush form. He wanted to eat you alive. It sent a thrill of fear through his body.

You longed to explain that you felt the very same way about him.

A low growl emanated from your stomach, pulling him free from the shackles of lust that clamped on his neck. The flutter of your heart was only furthered by his soft laugh; hazel eyes now a bit clearer as he listened to the cues of your body.

"Actual food then," he said, tapping your ass lightly to shift you when he clambered out of bed. Searching for the jeans that were thrown to the side.

You tried to swallow the flare of disappointment that soured your stomach and Logan could tell. He knew you wanted to stay there tangled beneath the sheets. Your bodies stuck to one another long enough to cause discomfort. Fuck he'd never wanted anything more. He could sense the danger in letting his heart be filled by you—the fear of this going a different way.

Silencing it was near impossible when all he wanted to do was listen to it.

Pressing a kiss to your furrowed brows, he handed you his flannel. Watching in adoration as you struggled with the buttons. Similar to him twenty four hours prior.

Not bothering with his belt, he walked out into your living room—seeing the trail of clothing left in your wake of need. He gathered what he could, tossing your robe to the back of the couch. His boots placed by the foot of the coffee table. While you stumbled behind him on unsteady legs that still shook from last night's activities.

Pride flared hot in his chest at the sight; his cock twitching in interest at your messy state.

"I can make the pancakes," you announced, trying your best to walk to the stove without your knees buckling beneath you.

He laughed, reaching an arm around your waist to tug you back and into his chest. "I know how to make pancakes bub."

"And if I don't believe you?"

His lips pressed to your ear, teeth biting at the lobe. "I used to be a teacher honey. Who do you think kept those kids fed most of the time?"

"The other X-Men," you huffed, though the smile on your face told him you were more than happy to stay in his arms. "Weren't they professors too?"

"Yeah right," he scoffed. "Jean was considered a fuckin' fire hazard and forget Scott. He couldn't even find the kitchen if he wanted to." He walked you both towards the counter, turning you to sit you on it with a messy kiss that had his teeth digging into your lip—pulling at it gently with a groan. "Storm was better. She knew how to handle the little shits when they came up with strange food demands."

You smiled, curling your arms around his waist. "I like hearing you talk about them."

A flicker of grief filtered through the joy, reminding him of what he once had. But as usual, he smothered it with a puff of air—craving the taste of a cigar between his teeth he could bite down on. Something to let his pain sink into other than you.

"It's been awhile."

"Well you should talk about them. They're your family Logan."

His body went stiff, hands pressed flat to the counter, and you let the words sink into his skin. You watched his mind come to life with old memories long past. Good memories. Ones that involved cooking in a kitchen full of students and jokes with the people he loved most. He felt the weight of grief begin to lift off his chest with each moment of laughter, each piece of love he once forgot.

All the horrors he'd endured buried the good under a wave of bleak nothingness.

To have them back brought a light he forgot once belonged.

"They uh..." He cleared his throat, moving to grab a mixing bowl you stored somewhere deep in your cabinets. You weren't one for cooking often; the dinner with Logan being an exception. "I forgot how it feels."

"What?"

"Havin' them back. Even if it's just through this." He smiled—more to himself than anything—and flicked the stove burner on.

A part of you knew that was the end of the conversation for now. After spending decades avoiding his past mistakes—his trauma that might never heal—he finally felt safe enough to open the door. Even if it barely remained cracked enough for you to peek through. This was him taking a step towards keeping true to the promise he uttered against your lips last night.

The intent of staying no longer an echo of words that held no weight behind them.

There existed—between you and him—a sense of fulfillment that sprouted from the seeds of the you he knew before. A version that was capable of handling his grief, because you shared in it. You mourned his family for one sole reason: they were your family too.

If you could give that to him now, you would. Offering him a place of serenity despite the chaos he lingered in was enough. You could see it on his face—the peace he'd been searching for...now in his grasp. He'd be damned to let even a sliver of it go now.

The scent of batter being poured onto a grill filled your apartment, setting the hunger in your body alight with a new vigor. He moved with such fluidity and ease. As if he already memorized the layout of your kitchen from the last time he was here; his hand reaching for things in drawers you forgot were there. You traced your gaze along his bare back, down the curves and sinews of his muscles that rippled beneath his skin.

Skin you clawed at with need; that ripped beneath your nails and healed over seconds later. You longed to place your mark on his body, to see a trail of hickeys lead down into his jeans. But that remained a disappointment you could live with. As long as he let you try over and over again.

"Careful honey." His hand pressed to the counter, back hunching as his nostrils flared. "I gotta feed ya before anything else can happen."

"I'm not-"

He turned, eyes narrowing at the way your thighs pressed together to alleviate the growing ache. "Then spread 'em."

Your breath grew heavy, eyes lidded as lust washed over your body with a demand you couldn't fight again. The sight of you practically panting at the sight of his grin—so sure that he'd find you dripping onto the marble counter—left you clamoring for some semblance of control. Surely you could wait until he'd finished cooking. You needed food more than him.

But the longer he watched you—scrutinizing every part of your trembling form—began to shift that truth to something else entirely.

"C'mon bub. Show me the mess you're makin'." A whine echoed in the small kitchen as he flipped another pancake onto the plate. "Be good and I'll reward you."

Fuck.

Your legs parted, flannel pulled up, as you revealed the slick lips of your cunt that begged for his attention. A groan rumbled in his chest, his eyes greedy in the way he devoured the sight of you so ready for him to slip right in. The spatula nearly bent in his hand—the smoldering scent of a forgotten pancake became an afterthought as he stepped closer.

"Logan the stove," you breathed.

He flicked it off without looking, the small pile of pancakes slid beside you with a fork. "Eat."

"But-"

The pointed look shut you up within seconds, his hands parting your thighs to spread you even further. Until he was standing before you with intent hammering in his heart. Cutting through the pancakes, you moaned at the taste as it hit your tongue. Only for Logan to drop to his knees—his thumbs pulling you open for your slick to pour out right onto the counter.

"What are you—oh-" you gasped, a hand digging into his hair as his mouth sealed over your cunt with a husky moan.

He watched you while his tongue licked over every part of you. Plunging into you as you swallowed down the buttery pancake—your mouth parted with another heady moan of his name. The challenge was clear enough for you to understand without further questioning. You were meant to eat. As he indulged in devouring a breakfast of his own.

The tip of his tongue flicked at your clit, drawing a whine from your throat—the fork nearly slipping out of your hand. Only for him to grasp it and drag it back to the plate. He stopped, keeping his mouth directly over your throbbing center, yet never touching you. The action was enough to drag even a sane person to madness.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, the burn of tears stinging your eyes as you cut another piece and placed it on your tongue.

He continued with a growl. Sucking at you lewdly until all you could hear was the echo of his mouth moving over you wetly. His thumb rubbing quick circles over your clit, tongue thrusting deep enough to drink down every drop of you that poured out.

Having managed to eat two of the smaller pancakes, you felt the tendrils of pleasure begin to rush through your body—pulling and tugging at each nerve with a familiar heat you'd grown to love. He moaned, eyes fluttering shut as he ate you with a drunken hunger. An urgency to feel you pulse around his tongue.

"Logan I'm gonna-" You gasped, fingers yanking on his hair.

The fork clattered to the counter—your hips dragging along his mouth with a cry as you broke for him. Unlike before this felt like a rush of fresh air. An echo of love that lingered in his tongue, in his promise to keep you. Your chest heaved, legs trembling over his shoulders, and the ache of want still stuck to your skin like the humid air of summer.

He didn't quell your hunger.

He merely lit the match for something stronger.

"Good job," he murmured, catching your lips in a kiss that had you wrapping your body around him, arms twining around his neck. "Mm. Think I found somethin' better than fuckin' syrup."

The skin of your cheeks burned hot as he smiled; his tongue licking at your open mouth. Words were lost as you kissed him with an eagerness that threatened to break you. This is what you longed for. The promise of a life overflowing with small bits of joy. Pieces of a future that echoed with what you built together.

Certainly not a perfect Polaroid, but you supposed that's what made the sun spots so endearing. It captured the truth of what still had to be figured out. The pain that you'd one day have to face head on. But as he kissed you slowly, hands grasping gently at your flesh, you felt certain that things would be okay.

Because he would be there, standing beside you with his hand in yours, ready to face it with you.

The midday sun cast shadows along your living room, turning dark spots into shade you now lounged in. Logan sat at your kitchen table with a plate of food you'd made an hour after your kitchen escapades. The quiet of having him there, watching you with a warmth in his eyes that burned lovingly against your skin, left you craving more of this.

"I like you in my shirt," he said, pushing the now empty plate to the side.

You smiled, leaning against the edge of the table as he kissed your bare thigh. "I like you in no shirt."

"Yeah I bet bub," he chuckled.

The heavy press of his palm to your leg kept you still—even as you continued to burn from an hour ago. You didn't rush him into the act, because if anything you had an excess of time. One more day off from work left you with the knowledge that you would have Logan more times than your body could handle.

He was quickly turning into an addiction you held no intention of kicking. How could you? When the sweetness of him spread along your tongue like the finest whiskey known to man. When you were so devoted to a relationship that barely started to bloom. Yet you felt as if you'd known him your entire life. Your heart was waiting for him to appear—claim you without question—and you could do nothing but respond with a desperate yes.

"Still needy for me honey?" he teased, standing to his full height with a soft grunt, his hands spreading along your hips.

You scoffed, pushing at his chest; even if he did resemble a brick wall. "You're imagining things Howlett."

"Oh it's Howlett now huh?" He nipped at your jaw, smiling at your soft bubble of laughter that burrowed its way into the depths of his heart. "Thought you liked callin' me James."

The breath caught in your throat when his tongue slid along your throat, heat pooling in your stomach. "Logan," you sighed, fingers tangling in his hair to draw his face up.

"That's better," he growled, cupping your chin to connect his lips to yours.

The raw needy ache of last night reared its head in your body, screaming out for him as he licked into your mouth with a purr. One you felt reverberate through your chest and down to the very tips of your fingers. He was yours to kiss, yours to love, and without knowing it you managed to tame the lonesome Wolverine that begged for a hint of your affection.

"Can't fuckin' get enough of you," he mumbled against your neck, sucking at the tender skin as his hands kneaded at your ass. "Got me goin' feral honey."

"I don't mean to."

"I know." He pushed his hips into yours, dragging you along his jeans with a stuttered breath. "'M gonna fuck you."

Your eyes met his gaze—a pool of slick now staining the dark denim he leaked into. "Here?"

He nodded, teeth bared in a ravenous smile. "When you eat dinner here without me..." Tugging the flannel open, he sucked at the top of your breast. "You'll remember me bending you over this table."

No words could counter what he just uttered as if he was reading straight from a novel of your life. His hands guided you to turn around—your palms flat on the wood and breath heavy in your chest. The audible echo of his zipper sent a flare of want through your body. Slick now coating the inside of your thighs, dripping down for him to see the slight shine of it in the sunlight.

He grunted palm sliding along your cunt and jolting you with a shuddered breath. Though he'd already eaten—twice—he was intent on indulging in a dessert so sweet he would go to the grave thinking about it. His cock—hard and throbbing—slid along the lips of your cunt. Coating him in your slick with a soft puff of air that blew across the back of your neck.

"Press your cheek down for me honey," he said softly, hand gripping your neck and guiding you until your back had no choice but to curve—ass presented to him with a soft moan. "There we go. Lookin' like a damn goddess."

"Oh fuck-" you sighed, the ache between your legs now a searing burn that could only be put out by him.

"You want my cock?"

You nodded, a stray tear falling to the table. "I do."

He huffed, lips pressing to the shell of your ear. "Begging so sweetly for me. Can't believe you thought I'd leave willingly."

The comment was more for himself than you, but you mewled for him, hips pushing back into his until the head of his cock tapped your clit. Drawing a high pitched cry from your parted lips still shiny with his spit.

"Please," you gasped, nails scratching along the wood. You'd see the marks later and be placed back into this memory with a visceral shove. As he intended

"I know, I know."

Lining himself up, he pushed forward with a broken gasp—his face buried against your shoulder. The stretch was divine. Last night's pain dispersed the second he slid into you with one thrust, your walls clamping down around him tight enough to choke a moan from his throat. The breathy grunted fuck had your head spinning, another gush of slick pouring out of you until it leaked between you.

Yet he held himself there, panting against your back as his cock twitched inside you. Begging him to move. He gave you a moment to catch your breath, to find something in your mind to latch onto. Yet what remained when he already sent you to the stratosphere? What could you attach yourself to when you were floating above the clouds?

"Need you to move," you whined.

He kissed your ear, grinding against you with a rasped grunt. "So fucking tight bub. 'M tryin’ not to cum."

"But I want you to-"

Pulling back he thrust into you with a stunted shift of his hips—cutting off your words as you moaned. Your eyes rolled back when he began to move in earnest. His hips slapping against your ass and hand bunching the fabric of his flannel to pull you back along his cock. And you took it.

You were reduced to a moaning wet mess when he fucked into you with a growl. Searching for the place that would draw you over the edge with ease. The cry that wrenched from your throat—your body trembling in his grasp—told him he'd struck gold. A smile curved over his lips as he kept that angle. Thrusting into you with a needy growl you heard bounce off the cabinets and walls.

"That it?" His hand gripped your throat, pulling you up and off the table. "That's the spot huh bub."

A sob fell past your parted lips, tears spilling down your cheeks when his other hand found your clit—fingers pulling up the hood to press right against the nerve. A burning sensation began to build in your stomach. Unlike what transpired in the times before.

This felt like more. All encompassing and treacherous enough to split you right down the center.

Your fingers scrambled to clutch his wrist. Unable to discern if you wanted to push him away or keep him there.

Logan merely chuckled, going faster with ease. You choked on your spit, your knees buckling, but he merely clutched you tighter. Keeping you right where he wanted as he fucked you within an inch of your life. The wet squelch of his cock plunging into you only made the fire burn brighter. You swore you could feel the flames lick along your skin—eating you alive.

"Got no words for me honey?" he grunted, teeth biting at your jaw. "Don't tell me I fucked 'em all out of your head."

"Hngg-"

"What was that?"

Nails dug into his skin and a cracked sob ripped from your raw throat when you came. Your walls pulsing around him as something wet gushed down your thighs. It splattered against the table, causing Logan to feel as if all the breath was punched from his lungs. His fingers still moved, spreading the mess and pulling every last drop from your spent body.

Even as he fought to ram his cock into you without mercy—desperate for his own high. You whimpered with each shift of his hips, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open with gasped breaths. And Logan had never seen a prettier sight than this.

He felt his heart clench, breath aching for lungs, as he fucked you through it. Until your body sagged against his with a sigh—eyes fluttering open to reveal your dazed expression. His heart twisted at the sight, cock throbbing with a needy ache he could no longer ignore.

"Y-Your turn," you panted, reaching up with a shaky hand to draw his lips to yours.

"Yeah?" His hips shifted forward and your mouth dropped open. "You want me to fill you up honey?"

The quick nod was all he needed to start chasing the built up high that threatened to strangle him. But the shrill echo of your phone across the table killed him like a shot to his head. He bit back a snarl of rage when your eyes lazily dragged to the face down device. Your heart picking up speed at the thought of who might be trying to contact you.

"I can ignore it," you mumbled.

The temptation to murder whoever was on the other line built up like bile in the back of his throat. But like a better man, he swallowed it down with a grunt. Pulling himself free with a hiss as his cock slapped against his stomach—covered in the sticky white cream that was your cum and aching for a release that would have to come later.

"Might be your work." He tapped your ass, carefully placing himself back in his jeans with a pained grunt. "Go on bub. I'm okay."

A glimmer of disappointment flared to life in your eyes before you were answering without checking the screen. The soft hello barely audible over the rush of blood that blared in his ears. He knew he wouldn't die from this. But fuck if he didn't feel like his body might combust at the sensation of being edged so hard his chest hurt.

"Wade?"

His head whipped towards you—a look of blistering fury crossed his face as he ripped the phone from your grasp. "You motherfucker," he snarled.

"You should really fuck with your knees Log. Save that adamantium skeleton." His voice was light, cheerful, and Logan had never wanted to rip him to shreds more.

"Are you watching us?" Your eyes widened and before Wade could give a snarky response, you were facing the still open window.

Wade stood across the street in his living room, waving with a knife. "Gotta give you pointers peanut. I've never been so hard in my life."

"Oh god," you sighed, covering your face. You reached for the phone; Logan gave it over before he could crush it in his fist. "Wade!"

"Whoa sweet angel! Don't go screaming my name after your man just made you see Natasha Romanoff in the afterlife. Did you tell her I said hi by the way?"

"It's rude to spy on people Wade Winston Wilson." His face fell as Logan snickered behind you. "Now I want an apology. Or I'm calling Nessa."

Though you couldn't see him well, you caught the way his face paled. "Right. I'm sorry. I won't be a perv next time. Even if you do have your window open and are screaming Logan's name so loud they can hear you on Knowhere."

"I wasn't-"

"And for your information FYI, I didn't spy. I just happened to see him and you bent over a table and assumed." He smiled, toothy and proud. "Can't fault me for being right on the money."

In an attempt to control your breathing (so as not to ask Logan to cut off Wade's limbs) you smiled through the flicker of annoyance. He was your friend. The person who was there for you in times when you needed someone. You couldn't really stay mad at Wade—even if the actions did call for the anger.

Especially not when you were still in the throws of recovering from the greatest orgasm of your life.

"I'd say I could do better, but now I'm not so sure angel face. I think Logan's won this round."

Surprisingly, you laughed. "He definitely won this round."

Logan stepped in closer when he was mentioned—his head dipping to hear Wade's voice through the phone. Unconsciously you found yourself leaning into his warmth—your body seeking out the gentle aftercare from the man who held your heart in his hands. His arm went around your waist, lips placing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, and Wade groaned audibly in completely disgust.

"Would you get a room. God it's like watching an episode of WandaVision. Only this time it's the deleted scenes where they were allowed to actually fuck." He smiled, fingers forming a faux gun as he winked.

"We all know the robot dicking her down extravaganza exists Marvel. Don't lie."

"Your fault for peeking in on the show Wade," you replied, eyes fluttering shut as Logan fixed the flannel to cover as much of you as possible.

"I get it. I'm an unpaying customer. Therefore not wanted." He sighed, gesturing to no one in particular. "I mean what about those guys? They get a free show!"

"Wilson," Logan bit out, his claws sliding free to cover the top of your thighs.

Another weary (yet dramatic and totally Oscar worthy) sigh came through the phone. "I'll just dance the Lonesome Tango tonight. Don't mind me, taking all of the domesticity in so I can vomit."

You smiled when Logan nudged your cheek with his nose. "Goodnight Wade."

"Hardly good! Ness is out for the day and what about me? Don't I have needs? Am I not just a boy looking at the couple he's going to third wheel someday saying: please save some pancakes for me?"

The gasp that flew from your mouth was loud enough to be heard through the open window as Logan ripped the phone from your ear. Cussing out the man who stared at you with a Cheshire grin big enough to fill up an entire room. He waved, tossing his phone to the couch as he leaned out the window.

"Turns out you are gonna dance again peanut!"

Before you could shout a response, Logan was slamming the window shut with a growl. His claws slicing through the already fragile wood at the base of it as the lock slid into place. The middle finger he offered was all Wade got before Logan was dragging you back towards the bedroom; the decision to buy you some fucking curtains now solidified in his mind.

"Favorite movie?"

He groaned, dragging your legs over his lap as you curled into his side. "I've been alive too fuckin' long to choose honey. Tell me yours."

A wince overtook your features as Logan ran his hand up and down your bare leg—his gaze determined to trace every detail of your face a thousand times over. Hoping that over time he'd find new things to fall in love with. New pieces of you he'd grow to cherish. He settled on the shape of your lips—watching them move with each words you spoke.

"Okay don't laugh at me. It's a good movie." You toyed with his fingers, thumb tracing the spaces between his knuckles where his claws broke the skin to come free. "The Mummy."

His eyebrows pulled together. "Isn't that the one where they...fight a fuckin' mummy?"

You nodded, laughter falling on his perked up ears. "Listen! She's a librarian who gets to go on an adventure and fall in love. I'm an archivist who...well meeting you has been an adventure and..."

You fell in love.

Saying the words out loud felt wrong. Misplaced. Yet you'd never felt something sit in your chest so perfectly and feel like it belonged. Love had always been a complicated formula that felt impossible to crack. After all, no real theory ever mixed well with something so convoluted.

But nothing else could possibly make the same amount of sense with you as those three words did.

Logan watched every thought cross your face; every problem you struggled with now on full display for him to see. He willed himself to say them aloud. To simply let them fall free and settle in your heart with ease. But the last person he said them to now hated his very existence. They held an entirely different heart yet wore the exact replica of your face.

That only seemed to complicate the matter further.

So he pressed a kiss to the space between your eyebrows until the skin smoothed, and pulled you out of the internal battle you seemed to be losing.

"Tell me about your family bub."

You perked up, eyes alight with the joy that lingered from hours before. "My sister?" He nodded. "Oh well she's a teacher. Works at a high-school in the city."

"Guess you were bound to have another teacher in your life huh?" His heart twisted when you laughed, your fingers curling into his hair—toying with the sides without even realizing it.

"I guess so." You sighed, settling against his body. "It's funny, because I'd have never met Wade if it wasn't for her. This used to be her place before she—ya know—got married and stuff. Wade actually sold her the car I borrowed the day I met you."

His hand traveled higher, slipping to the curve of your hip. "Sneaky little fucker," he muttered.

"Although I think nearly killing me in the street is what really made me like him."

Logan jolted, his hand pinching your chin to face him. "What the fuck do you mean nearly killing you?"

The smile on your face did nothing to appease the fresh wave of anger that filled his body. If anything he only felt it eat away at him faster. Like a parasite with no cure. You were so calm about the entire situation. So nonchalant as you explained to him what actually happened.

That alone terrified him.

What if one day something like this happened again? What if the person who would cause you harm was someone he couldn't save you from?

Dread weighed heavy on his stomach like a rock he never intended to swallow. Even as you spoke he could feel the way it pulled at him. Dragging him into a darkness he'd never escape. He endured it once before, swam to the shore and climbed his way out, but to lose you was to put an end to his existence in this universe.

Logan couldn't die.

But he'd sure as hell find a way to if you were no longer by his side.

"I know he didn't mean to almost hit me with his knife. He was aiming for the guy behind me." You placed a kiss on his wrist, right above his pulse point. "Anyways we laugh about it now. Wade calls it fate. And since I met you...I kinda feel like he's right."

The breath caught in his chest. "Honey you got no idea..."

Lips trailed up his arm, sending chills down his spine as you placed kiss after kiss along his body. Right to his chest. Your tongue licked along his nipple—sucking it into your mouth and drawing a stuttered moan from his parted lips. His cock twitched in his jeans, the lost orgasm from earlier now raring to life with each delicate brush of your mouth on his skin.

Scraping your teeth on his pec, he felt his hips shift in an effort to find even a brief second of relief. You smiled at the feeling of him hard and aching against your thigh.

"You didn't get to cum earlier," you murmured, kissing along his jaw, nose brushing his cheek. The slight brush of your hand dipping along his stomach and down into his jeans drew a ragged groan from his chest. "Fair's fair baby."

Soft skin of your palm met his still leaking cock and the surprise that flickered across your face at the knowledge that he'd been dripping all night for you turned his mind numb. His kiss seared your entire being as you stroked him slowly. Logan shoved his jeans down the best he could with you blocking his way, simply to feel your palm drag down his length to cup his balls still covered in your sticky cum.

A breathy whine you never heard before slipped past his lips—his head falling back when your mouth latched onto his throat. Teeth and tongue sucking a mark that would fade within seconds. But catching a glimpse of the purple bruise made your heart flutter.

The wet slide of your hand filled the room with each pump. His hips canted up into your fist, fucking the slick hole you formed around him with panted grunts of nonsensical words.

It didn't build steadily like before where he held the capability of holding out. Now he felt helpless to the burn that forced its through his veins. The tension pulling taut in his stomach.

Only for you to pull away.

"W-What?" he rasped, his eyes flying open to see how you fell back on the bed—fingers popping open the shirt button by button.

"Come here," you breathed, hooking your foot around his hip. "Don't you wanna fuck my face baby?"

His mind went blank. Eyes dazed and mouth open as he watched you smile up at him—mischief shining bright in your gaze. You were an angel sent from who knows where bestowed upon him like a gift. An apology for all he'd gone through.

If the light he saw as he took his last breath was your face, he'd die a happy man.

Beckoning him forward with your hand on his thigh, Logan knelt above your chest. He could see how you longed for him to press weight against you—the feel of your palm against his ass telling him enough. But risking it would never be an option. He knew how much his skeleton as a whole weighed; you would not survive five seconds of it atop your body entirely.

"So pretty," you cooed, wrapping a hand around his cock as he shuddered. "Can I taste you Logan?"

He nodded dumbly, hand cupping the top of your head to keep himself grounded. Only for his soul to leave his body at the feel of your lips sucking him in. The wet heat of your mouth felt like a death to his heart. He'd never recover.

Yet one truth remained ingrained in the back of his mind.

He didn't want to survive.

"Fuck," he breathed, canting his hips down and into your waiting mouth.

The second his tip brushed the back of your throat, Logan knew he'd never last. He was a man lost in the depths of your body. Finding his way back to himself was never an option. You suckled on him with a whimper, letting him slowly thrust into your mouth as your fingers dug into the flesh of his ass.

Moans fell from his mouth with ease; words eventually following suit. "You fuckin' like this huh? You like me sitting on your face?"

Another muffled sound vibrated against his cock. His balls began to draw up slightly—thighs practically numb with the pleasure that consumed him. He sunk deeper, fucking your throat with a wet gasp, his body curving over yours and hand pressing to the mattress for stability.

"Fuck your mouth is heaven." He panted through the flames that licked at his spine, fighting to stay with you. "Gonna make a mess of you."

A jolt of lightning echoed across his skin when your hand slipped between his legs to fondle his balls, massaging the tender skin as tears dripped down into your hair. Whatever sanity he held left would wither away with the tendrils of his oncoming orgasm. But this isn't how he wanted to finish.

Ripping himself away, you barely got out half a question of what he was doing, before you were yanked into his lap—his tongue invading your mouth in a messy kiss. Spit spread across his cheek, but you seemed to get the hint when he grinded up into your dripping cunt.

"I promised to fill ya honey," he grunted, guiding your hand to wrap around his pulsating cock. "I don't break my promises."

With a sigh of his name pressed to his mouth, you guided him to your entrance, sinking down slowly to engulf him into your throbbing walls. A rough noise tore from his throat at the feeling—his body barely giving him enough time to comprehend that he'd been on the edge for far longer than he realized.

"Shit!" His thumb found your clit, working you over with quick circles that had your body curving into his. "'M not gonna last. Need you to fuckin' cum for me bub."

"Let go," you mumbled, dragging yourself up and off his cock. Only to sit back down hard enough to make him go blind. "Fill me up baby. Make it spill out."

His teeth set into your shoulder, claws sinking into your already ruined mattress to steady himself. He clutched you to him with a hoarse shout of your name as he came. Rope after rope of his spend spurted into your waiting body, drawing a soft breathy moan out from your swollen lips. You held him close, lips sliding along his neck, and talked him through it.

"Thank you baby," you sighed, grinding your hips along his lap. "Feels so good. So warm."

The lilt of your words bled with the adoration you felt for him in the center of your chest. The fact that you didn't finish didn't feel necessary when you had him like this. Entirely wrapped around you—face pressed into your chest and soul desperate to brush against yours.

"One of these days I'm gonna die like this bub."

You smiled, dragging your lips along his temple. "Would that be so bad?"

"Mm." Teeth scraped your skin as he slowly fell back onto the bed, taking you with him. "Probably not."

What lingered in the space between was a silence you reveled in. A peaceful kind of calm that created a bubble of warmth for the both of you to exist. Not completely in the world, yet never out of it entirely.

His body practically overheated beneath your skin, but you didn't mind the closeness. In fact, you found that you craved that above everything else. How he held you, allowed you to see the soft side of him that would normally be withheld.

This was the memory you'd hold close to your heart over the years. The one that'd always remain to give you a sense of peace in an otherwise crazy world.

"I'm really happy I met you Logan." The words weren't exactly what you wanted to say. But they felt close enough to exhibit the same emotion—the one that clawed at your heart, looking for a way to break free.

He hummed, dragging a hand down your spine. "Me too honey."

Settling atop him fully, you rested your ear where you knew his heart lay beneath layers of muscle and a cage of adamantium. The steady beat lulled you into a tranquil state. Where time no longer felt real and comfort became your only option.

Oh how you longed to remain here with him. Bound to nothing and no one, but each other.

note: i'm so sorry for what's about to befall these two.

[blushsturns]

perv!matt x innocent!reader ♡

part 4 ❤︎ wet dreams

hcs - 1 - 2 - 3

❤︎ description: matt wakes up from a wet dream and starts to text you about it, but you invite him over instead. (in matt’s pov)

❤︎ warnings: this contains explicit content and portrays rough sexual activity, but it is all consensual! pure smut, explicit content, f! receiving oral

❤︎ w/c: 4834

❤︎ matt’s texts are in blue!

matt woke up in agonizing pain. it hurt, badly. if he didn’t get some kind of release sometime soon, he would probably lose it. he was going insane.

his first ever wet dream about you. in between your thighs; kissing you, licking you, tasting you. in his dreams, you tasted fucking phenomenal. you gripped on his hair tightly and fucked his face as he devoured your sweet cunt.

in his dream, he was in absolute heaven, but it was just a dream.

so, when matt woke up with the biggest hard on he’s had in his entire life and a huge wet patch against the front of his boxers, he wasn’t sure what to do. he groaned in pain, throwing his head back against the pillow as he moved his hand to push his hardened bulge down repeatedly to try and stop the intense sensation.

thank god he slept alone because this was truly embarrassing. he thought he was done with this shit. he’s had wet dreams before when he was younger, but that was self explanatory. he had no excuse for this one.

well, maybe he does. you were on his mind every second of every day. ever since the moment you two shared in the closet at nick’s party, it was all he could think about. your lips against his neck, sucking on his skin and leaving behind the most beautiful bruise he wished would’ve stayed longer. he had that reminder left on his skin of you making him feel fucking amazing and when it faded, he kept it imprinted in his brain.

he let out a soft groan out of frustration. it was no use. nothing was helping. he thought to himself maybe now that they’ve had some interactions, he would actually have the courage to be vocal about what he wanted and needed.

matt moved his hand over to grab his phone off the nightstand. maybe he should just stop being so scared and actually say what he wanted for once.

truth is, he’s wanted you for so long. ever since he laid his eyes on you, he’s been hooked. infatuated. obsessed. the obsession with you happened very quickly and has only progressed rapidly over the years. he was one of your best friends, but he always knew it was more than that. at least for him, anyway. he looked out for you, was there for you if you needed him. it was like he wanted you to come to him for comfort and support so he can show you how a man should treat you. he hated seeing you hurt and just wanted to protect you from it all.

he was so obsessed with you to the point that you were all he could think about. it was driving him fucking insane. he wanted you and every part of you.

it became so unbearably hard because he knew he couldn’t have you. you never seemed to feel the same way because you were always so independent and carefree and even when you had dates with other boys, he still wanted you. it devastated him to see you get your heart broken, wishing he could pick up the pieces and put your mended heart back together.

he always assumed you’d never feel the same way , not until recently. ever since you noticed your panties in his back pocket the night you all watched a movie together, he felt as if maybe you were finally noticing him and who he truly was, rather than just the awkwardness in his personality. maybe you were starting to actually notice him. he did tell you how much he’s always wanted you. he was vocal about that for once.

matt let out a groan, the uncomfortable hardness not going away any time soon as he opened up his phone and immediately tapped on your name.

i had a dream about you last night and i can’t stop thinking about it.

matt’s heart quickened as he sent the message. within seconds, bubbles started to appear on the screen.

oh you did? what was it about?

it’s kind of embarassing..

come over and tell me about it. i’m making breakfast, you can have some while you rant.

give me 10.

matt immediately got out of bed and threw on a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt, trying to push his hard on away so it wasn’t completely evident when he went over to your house. he knew just telling you about it and standing right in front of you would only make his cock even more excited, so he decided to just say fuck it and try to hurry as fast as he can. he needed to see you.

after brushing his teeth and trying his best to look decent, he scurried his way out of his house. thank god you only lived next door and not across town. nick and chris were still asleep so at least he didn’t have to explain to his brothers where he was going so early in the morning with a fucking hard on in his pants.

he knocked only twice before coming face to face with you. he couldn’t help but scan you up and down, taking in your beautiful appearance. your hair was up in a messy bun with strands of hair falling onto the sides of your face, your oversized t-shirt covered your entire upper body but showed off your amazing toned legs. all you had on was a pair of lacy panties underneath. usually you didn’t want anyone seeing you like this, but it was matt. he’d stare at you like this no matter what you looked like.

“um, hey.” he said kind of awkwardly, his hand immediately falling into his tousled brown locks. “thanks for letting me stop by.” he could still feel the lingering hard on that was throbbing in his pants and it wasn’t helping that he was now face to face with the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

he tried desperately not to stare at your body as you stood there, a smile widening on your face. the wafting aroma of pancakes lingered in the air and filled his nostrils. he knew you loved to cook, no matter what kind of food it was. you always liked to try different recipes and have your loved ones try them. it was like one of your many love languages. “hi matt! of course! as soon as i knew you were stopping by, i put more on the pan.”

you bounced on your heels, your smile only widening as you shut the door behind him once he steps inside. fuck, were you so fucking addictive. your personality in itself is so damn contagious and he wanted to be around you all the damn time.

“oh, thank you. aren’t you a sweetheart?” hell yeah you were.

his eyes scan over the room before averting his eyes to your ass as you turn around and motion for him to follow you into the kitchen. you looked fucking amazing even in just a big t-shirt. he ended up envisioning you wearing only his shirt and lounging around the house and that thought was not helping his still evident hard on that you obviously noticed the second you opened the door for him. he got lost in his thoughts and snapping out of them immediately once he heard your voice.

“come on! they’re almost done.” you called out to him as you stood at the stove, your hips swaying as you flip the pancake in the pan.

matt gulped slowly, suddenly feeling nervous as he walks into the kitchen to join you and leans against the kitchen island as he watches you intently. even when you’re in your element, you looked effortlessly beautiful. how come everything you did made him fall for you ten times harder?

“they smell amazing. you didn’t have to make me any.”

you turned around to raise your eyebrow at him with a stern look on your face. “nope. you’re having as many as you want. i wanted to.” you finished off the rest of the pancake mix, letting it sit in the pan to form before turning to look back over at him. he looked nervous and on edge standing there; like he so badly wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how to.

your eyes glared down to the hardened bulge that outlined the center of his sweatpants. how was he hard already? you fought the urge to bite down on your bottom lip, your cheeks already growing warm as you immediately averted your eyes back to his.

he caught on to your subtle staring, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as well. “thanks. i’ll have some, then.”

you came back to your senses, flashing him a wide grin before turning your attention back to the pancakes that were now done and cooling off. as you waited for them to cool off, you moved over next to him and hopped up onto the chair at the kitchen island. “so, tell me about this dream you had of me.” you wiggled your eyebrows up at him playfully, a light giggle emitting from your lips.

his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink as he immediately averted his eyes down at the marbled surface before back up at you. “well, it wasn’t just an ordinary dream. the dream had me waking up like, really fucking hard actually.” his cheeks flushed even more, his eyes moving back down and not being able to hold eye contact with you as he says this. “in the dream, it felt so real though. like fuck, i wanted it to be real.” he let out a nervous laugh, his knee beginning to bounce which was one of his nervous habits.

it’s not that he was nervous of you or being around you. he fucking loved being around you and tried to find any excuse to do so. it’s the idea of you knowing he’s capable of having these thoughts about you even if he’s already voiced it before. having dreams about you though? he’s never had one like it before.

this piqued your interest as you kept your eyes focused on him. “what happened in it, matt? you can tell me.” your voice was soft and reassuring. you wanted to make sure he knew that you weren’t judging him. you were also intrigued since the moment he texted you. you just had to know what the dream was about, especially since it involved you.

“well, it’s kind of something i’ve been wantin’ to do for awhile and maybe that’s why i dreamt of it but it got me really goin’-“ he stopped his words, feeling absolutely flustered, his cheeks reddening by the second. his eyes moved over to yours once again, your eyes now locked together in an intense gaze. you weren’t able to read him. all you could tell was that he was completely flustered and when you looked down at the center of his sweatpants, you could visibly see he was harder than he was before he stepped foot into your house.

“matt..” you spoke immediately, moving off your chair to move over next to him, your hand now resting against his shoulder, your eyes still locked together. the poor thing was a nervous wreck. you thought it was fucking adorable. he was so flustered, unable to speak. “it’s okay. instead of explaining to me what happened, why don’t you show me? actions speak louder than words don’t they?” you flashed him a sly smirk, your fingertips running down his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt before slowly moving your hand up to his hair and running your fingers through his tousled locks and gave his hair a slight tug. “it’s okay, sweetheart. show me.”

something switched in matt after you spoke. his eyes began to darken with lust and desire as he stared up at you from the chair he was sitting on. you could swear you heard matt whine from you tugging on his hair. you stood there next to him, your fingers wrapped up in his locks as you kept your gaze focused on him.

without any hesitation, matt immediately moved his hands over to the back of thighs and down to your ass to lift you up against him with your legs immediately wrapping around his waist as he walks you over to the counter and sets you down onto it. a soft, surprised gasp emits from your lips at his sudden movements. you loved seeing matt like this. he was usually so cautious and embarrassed easily, but when he lost control which wasn’t often, it was incredibly hot and so attractive.

fuck. the boy really does want you, doesn’t he? you spent countless hours throughout the last couple weeks wondering his true feelings and if you reciprocated those feelings for him. when matt does things to surprise you like this, it turns you on and leaves you wanting more. you didn’t realize matt was capable of being this way and you were slowly becoming obsessed with seeing him lose control.

your eyes lock together in an intense gaze, your hands resting onto his shoulders now. “show me, matt. please.” you pleaded, your own eyes filling with desire. your legs wrapped around his waist tighter to pull him closer to you, your hand moving up to run through his brunette locks. you were becoming addicted to the feeling of his hair between your fingers. adrenaline ran throughout your body from your head to your toes. “you don’t have to hold back.” you whispered out, giving his hair another slight tug which drawled out a soft whine from matt’s lips. okay yeah, you fucking loved this.

the words that fell from your lips were all it took for matt to finally break away any shyness and flustered feelings he had before. seeing you like this; pleading him not to hold back, to have him show you what his dream was and giving him the permission to make that dream a reality. he needed this. he needed you. he immediately placed his hands onto your bare thighs, your oversized shirt already rising up from where you sat on the counter. he moved one hand up your bare thigh underneath your shirt against your side, your fingertips drumming against the hem of your lacy panties “oh fuck.” he breathed out, already seeming breathless just by the touch of the lace covering the most intimate part of you. the part he needed to touch, kiss, taste in this very moment.

your body immediately jolted forward at his touch against your skin and teasingly pulling on your panties. his other hand moved up to place his index and middle finger underneath your chin to allow your eyes to lock together in an intense gaze. his blue eyes turned darker than usual. you could tell how much he needed you in this moment. as if he was an animal that was malnourished and needed to be fed. he needed to taste you. now.

you lifted your hips up slightly to allow him to remove your panties down your legs. you watched his every move as his fingers tugged your panties down, his eyes not being able to take his eyes off your pretty lace panties that were once covered by your pretty pussy that he needed so much. you were already soaking wet and it was evident with a small amount of your arousal coating them before allowing them to fall down onto the kitchen floor. this very moment felt so intimate, so fucking right and your cheeks were fucking burning from how much you were blushing.

you never thought this would ever happen, but you weren’t complaining. he spread both of your legs immediately with both of his palms, the pad of his thumbs caressing the inside of your thighs in smooth, slow circles. your breath hitched as you stared down at him, watching his every move. his hardened cock was pressing against his tightened sweatpants, begging to be free, but he didn’t seem phased by it one bit. all he could focus on was that he finally had you in the palm of his hand and he was savoring every fucking second of it.

“god, your skin is so smooth. feeling s’good against my fingertips.” he whispered this in a sultry tone, so unlike his usual voice. it was so fucking hot you felt like you might combust right then and there. you knew he could feel the heat radiating from your core as his hand inched up higher, closer to your sweet cunt.

he moved his hand to your bare hip, your shirt riding up everytime his hand moved. you melted against his touch. your breathing getting hitched in your throat. you didn’t know what to say, if you even could speak. all you could do was watch him lose and take control and have you at his mercy. his fingers caressed your inner thighs underneath your shirt in a teasing manner and it made you want to scream, needing him to touch you where you wanted it the most.

you had to be patient though. he’s wanted you for so long, you knew he wouldn’t just walk out without showing you exactly what he dreamt about.

“spread your legs f’me. need you. now.” he spoke this is a dominant, rough tone through gritted teeth. it was almost as if he was about to combust from how much he’s needed you for so damn long and he was finally getting to have a taste of you.

you did as you were told, spreading your legs wider against the countertop. fuck, this was so dirty and so hot and your head was spinning, your mind clouded with dirty thoughts and consumed of nothing but matt and how he’s wanted this for so long. maybe you have, too.

your shirt rose up completely now and you took the initiative to place your shirt directly at your hips and hoped it would stay there and not get in the way. your breath felt like it was caught in your throat at this point as you stared at him. his eyes were hungry, needy, and full built up lust and want. “been wantin’ this for so long. so fuckin’ long, sweet girl.” he used his fingers to cup underneath your chin in a rough manner , your eyes staying locked together firmly.

“a little taste won’t hurt.” you breathed out, already shaking with anticipation and adrenaline that rushed through you. your spread legs and bent your knees as you sat on the edge of the counter as he bent down onto his knees and suddenly he was face to face with your sweet, pretty pussy.

“holy shit.” he breathed out, a soft groan already emitting from his lips at the sight of your glistening arousal. your core was throbbing already, desperate and needing matt any way he was willing to give you. “fuck. you truly are beautiful, every single fuckin’ inch of you.” he caressed your inner thighs with his hands, your skin feeling like butter against his fingertips.

your cheeks were bright red at this point as he continued to stare at your sweet pussy, practically drooling at the sight. he had wanted this for so long and so many times he had imagined what you looked like when he’d take your underwear just to put them around his cock as he pumped it in his hand, cumming all over the lacy fabric with your name falling from his lips. now he gets to have you, inches close to tasting you.

his finger ran across your glistening folds, admiring your pretty pussy and how wet you were for him. your cheeks were bright red as he continued to stare longingly at you, not being able to quite take his eyes off you as his finger slowly rubbed your swollen nub.

his hot and hot heavy breath lingered against your center, feeling yourself growing more soaked by the second. he looked up at you from the position he was in on his knees in front of you, his eyes full of lust and need. “such a beautiful fuckin’ pussy, sweetheart. god, look at you.”

before you could even reply to his words, he immediately leaned forward and dove his head in between your thighs, his tongue running up and down against your glistening folds causing your body to jolt forward against the feeling of his tongue finally against you. your hand insrantly found his hair again and ran your fingers throughout his hair, a soft moan leaving your lips. fuck, his tongue felt so good against you.

he dreamt of this for so long. the taste of your arousal coated his tongue as he began to lap his tongue against your glistening folds, swirling his tongue around in several directions as he hummed against you to send vibrations down your core. you were throbbing immensely and the feeling of his tongue finally against you was so damn rewarding. you couldn’t believe this was happening and you didn’t want it to stop.

his tongue plunges into your core repeatedly, lapping up your sweet juices as they coat his tongue. your fingers wrap around his hair tighter and pull onto his head to dive his head more into your center. you wrap your legs around his face which causes a groan to erupt from his throat and send vibrations down to your core. you throw your head back against the kitchen cabinet. you refuse to close your eyes, wanting to savor this moment as long as possible.

watching him eat you out was the hottest fucking thing. you didn’t want it to end. fire coursed throughout your veins, sending shockwaves down to your body at the feeling his tongue rolling along your glistening folds before he began to suck onto your swollen clit and taking it between his lips. he sucked onto it hungrily, lapping his tongue against it each and every time he’d let it go. he devoured your pussy hungrily, not being able to stop. “o-oh fuck. matt. that’s feels.. so nice.” you moan out your words, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging hard.

he looked up at you as he continued to devour you, running his tongue up and down your glistening wet folds, moaning against your center as he opens up his eyes to look up at you. he’s mesmerized by how your face looks when you throw your head back in absolute ecstasy. fuck, he’s been dreaming about this for so long and now he’s finally getting a taste of you.

he pulled away just for a second to breathe, licking over his lips hungrily like he was already having withdrawals. you pulled one hand away from his hair to place against your own chest, massaging your breast through the fabric of your shirt. you looked down at him, your arousal glistening against his lips. the loss of his tongue made you whine, but you locked your eyes with him, already looking fucked out. “fuck, sweet girl. you taste so divine. got me addicted to this pussy.” he spoke in a sultry tone, licking over his own lips once more.

“can’t stop.” was all he said breathlessly, flashing you a sly smirk before diving back in between your thighs. his hands moved to your inner thighs to hold you still as he ran his tongue up and down your glistening cunt. he waited for so long to be able to taste you and he couldn’t believe this was actually fucking happening.

he sucked onto your swollen clit, lapping his tongue against it repeatedly as your legs begin to shake from the pleasure filling inside of you. “f-fuck!” you shouted out, gripping onto his hair to keep his head in place so he wouldn’t move away from your center, not that he’d want to. he could tell you were getting closer to your orgasm. he didn’t stop, continuing to roll his tongue along your glistening pussy, moaning against you with the taste of you driving him absolutely fucking insane.

you were so close to your orgasm. your body began to shake and tremble with fire coursing throughout your veins. you didn’t want this to end, but you didn’t know how much longer you could hold on. you continued to grip onto his hair to hold his face in place as you watched him devour your pussy like a starved man, addicted to your taste. addicted to you. “oh, fuck matt! i’m s-s-so close!” you stuttered your words as you moaned loudly, profanities falling from your lips as your heart raced rapidly in your chest.

god, he looked so fucking good between your legs. you wished you had your phone to take a picture for later, you’d already keep it engraved in your brain anyway. he gripped harder on your thighs to hold you still as you tried to rock your hips up into him, in an attempt to fuck his face as he sucked onto your clit feverishly. he pulled away just for a moment to look back up at you, his lips curving into a devious smirk as he licked over his lips hungrily. “cum for me, sweet girl. been needin’ to taste you for so long. cum on my tongue and let me taste you. wanna see you when you cum f’me. keep your eyes open, alright ma? don’t be shy now.”

he immediately went back to licking your swollen bud repeatedly, sucking onto it and moaning against you, your eyes locked together. you made sure to keep your eyes opened the entire time just like he demanded. hearing his dirty words and watching him fucking devour you is what caused you to get sent over the edge. you didn’t realize how badly you needed this until you saw him between your thighs, eating you out like his life depended on it.

suddenly, your body began to shake as your orgasm rushed through you, your fingers tugging onto his head harshly as you pushed your hips into his face, your orgasm sending shockwaves throughout your entire body as you cum on his tongue, moaning out in ecstasy, his name falling from your lips. he watched you the entire time, your eyes locking together in an intense gaze, moans falling from your lips. he couldn’t take his eyes off you. he couldn’t fucking believe this was happening after all this time.

he lapped up your juices as you allowed your orgasm to rush through you, your arousal coating his tongue as he moaned against your pussy. your heart beat rapidly in your chest, sweat glistening against your forehead. you look incredibly fucked out and hazed, your fingers lazily running through his messy locks. even in your post orgasm haze, he believed you were the most beautiful girl in the world. fucking magnificent. he used a tongue to lick your now overly sensitive clit to get one more taste before pulling away from your thighs. he used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth that was covered in your juices, a now shy smile appearing onto his lips as he stared up at you.

he got back onto his feet to stand before you, your legs now closed and you pull your shirt back down as you try to find the strength in them to jump off the counter, but your legs felt like jello. your eyes moved from his lips and back up into his eyes. you didn’t know what this meant moving forward, but you couldn’t fucking believe this happened.

“a fuckin dream come true. literally. thank you, sweet girl.” his own breathing was labored as he licked over his lips and stared at you with his cheeks reddened tremendously. he’s back to his usual shy self. “been wantin’ that for awhile.”

your chest heaved up and down, your head resting against the kitchen cabinet. your eyes move down to the evident hardened bulge in his pants, a wet spot forming against the fabric. he was incredibly turned on just from tasting you. you didn’t know if he wanted you to return the favor or not, but the sight of him completely hard for you was such a turn on.

he caught your eyes, moving his eyes down to his own hardened cock before back up into your eyes. he had come here because of this same problem, but this time he wouldn’t be leaving in complete agony. at least he finally got to taste you. he bent down to grab your damp lacy panties that were still on the ground and immediately places them in his pocket, flashing you a small smirk.

“enjoy your breakfast, sweetheart. i sure as hell enjoyed mine.”

taglist-

@sturnshood @strangelife122 @jessie-essie @giveheavensomehell @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @forgottxen @matthewsturnsgf @christmastreecake @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @sturniololuv08 @xclusivedesires

a/n- thank you to @sturnshood for helping me with the idea! i wouldn’t of been able to write this without you. thank you thank you, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me i love you!

thank you to everyone who’s read this au and has supported me! i want to continue it for as long as i can, so if you have any ideas, questions for me or just wanna talk in general please don’t hesitate to send a message in my inbox!

i love you guys! :)

-nessa ღ

[crowsofdarkness]

You help Bucky through a nightmare.

18+ CW’s include angst, fluff, language, choking, Bucky having nightmares, soft!GF easing Bucky back to sleep, broken!Bucky for a moment.

The bed shifted next to me, and my slumber kept me deep underneath the darkness, so I paid no mind to it until now, when it felt like someone was jumping on the bed. With a soft groan, I held the pillow closer to my chest, and a snore fell from my lips now.

"No. Please." Followed by a whine of pain.

Slowly blinking my eyes open, I took in the dark room and the comfort of my bed, which told me that I was in my room. The warm body next to me reminded me that Bucky was in bed as well.

Bucky.

Sitting up with a start and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I glanced over to see his body thrashing, face scrunched up in pain. His vibranium arm rested on the floor next to the bed, where it's been for the last two nights. After I awoke in the middle of the night with those vibranium fingers wrapped around my throat.

Just like now, the other night Bucky had a nightmare and thought I was someone sent to kill him. It wasn't the first time either so I was well versed in how to pull him from the nightmares; a familiar touch to his cheek with my voice speaking to him.

"It's alright, Bucky. It's me. It's your doll."

It pulled him out of those nightmares every time. But with the other night and him waking to realize he was choking me yet again, he decided to remove his arm when he slept; hence it being on the floor.

With a tender hand on his cheek, I brought my mouth close to Bucky's ear.

"It's alright, Bucky," I whispered. "It's me. It's your doll."

His eyes snapped open with a sharp inhale and he glanced around the room until his gaze fell on my face.

"Doll," Bucky breathed while sitting up in bed wrapping his only arm around me, burying his face in my neck to breathe in my familiar scent.

"It's okay," I cooed while brushing my lips over his forehead. "It was just another nightmare."

The dog tags around Bucky's chest clanked together as his body shook when he tried to steady his uneven breathing.

"I was him again, doll. Killing people. Their screams, fuck it's their screams that haunt me," he divulged.

I sat there while rubbing my hand up and down his back to soothe him as he said the same thing over and over again.

Their screams haunt me.

I had known Bucky for a long time, meeting him back in Romania when he was in hiding. So I'd been familiar with who he used to be and the trauma he had along with it. Even with his time in Wakanda, he couldn't stop the nightmares.

"You're not that weapon anymore, love. You haven't been for a long time," I assured him while easing both of us back down on the bed.

Bucky's head rested on my lap as I perched my back against the headboard to run my fingers through his hair. He had cut it recently and after only seeing him with long hair since we first started dating, the sight of seeing him with it short was still something I was getting used to.

"I can't keep dealing with these nightmares, doll. I nearly killed you the other night that's why I don't sleep with my vibranium arm anymore."

"But you didn't. I was able to wake you. I always have," I scratched his scalp in the way I knew he liked.

Bucky let out a sigh and as I gazed down at him, I saw a faint smile pull on his lips which told me that this was working on helping him forget about the nightmare.

"What if there's a time you can't?" He wondered.

I shrugged. "We'll deal with it if we get there, alright? For now, we just need to focus on the now. But if it makes you feel better, I'll reach out to Shuri again to see if we can visit Wakanda again. Maybe she needs to go deeper in your mind to remove the triggers for your nightmares."

Bucky lifted the hem of my dress shirt to place a kiss on the skin of my stomach. "I love you, doll. I don't deserve you."

I cupped his cheek to press a kiss to his lips. "You do, Bucky. After all the hell you've gone through, you deserve love. I'll spend the rest of my life reminding you that."

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 16 - My Dark Disquiet

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 8.7k words. Things are getting better slowly.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, hurt with some comfort, depression, mental health, descriptions of weapons, vomit, language, angst, nightmares, talks of death, alcohol, drugging/ sedation, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of past abuse.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

The pain is still there. Every morning that you wake up, you think it will be better. It never is. Dr. Piper is still dead. 

Maybe it was better when you were in the bunker the first time you thought she had died. Professor Hale kept you so busy you didn’t get much time to think. He blamed you for her death. She tried to get you out, but you got caught and then he killed her. At least that’s what he had told you. 

John should have done the swap. Then she would be alive. This is as much your fault as it is his. He said he would save her but really it was your job. 

Your heart aches. It’s a deep throbbing pain that feels like it’s never going away. The pain reminds you you’re alive. Maybe one day you’ll just get used to it.

You slept through the night for the first time last night. You didn’t dream, but you didn’t have nightmares either. Maybe you are healing. You don’t know if you want to heal. Healing means moving on, and you can’t imagine moving on without Dr. Piper.

Johnny comes in with a cup of tea. You sit up in bed making space for him. 

“We’re going to be leaving tomorrow, late tomorrow around 10pm,” he says. Your stomach suddenly turns as you take in the news. You don’t want to leave. You want to keep the only connection with Dr. Piper you know is left. 

“I don’t want to leave,” you say quietly, squeezing your hands round the mug. 

“You’ll like the UK. You’ll love Scotland, and there's so much land. You can spend as much time as you want outside,” he says, nudging you. You sigh. Being outside sounds nice. It’s been too long since you’ve seen greenery. 

When the Professor told you she was dead, you had mourned for months, and you still had to endure his abuse. At least now you have a pack around you. Your pack. Except it doesn’t matter though because it's your pack's fault she's dead. 

You hand your mug back to Johnny. You’re not hungry or thirsty. You don’t want anything, you just want to sleep.

“Do you want any pain killers?” he asks. “You might want some. We’re going to be travelling for a while.” You shake your head looking up at him. He sighs, squeezing your thigh then getting up. 

“Let me know if you change your mind,” he says as he heads for the door.

“Johnny,” you call. He turns looking back at you.

“Can I go for a shower later?” you ask, looking up at him. He smiles back at you.

“There’s a bath here too. Maybe that would be better?” You nod. A long hot bath does sound good. 

John puts the vial on the table. It’s a sedative. He picked it up from the hospital while you were there. It’s a last resort. He thought maybe you would have been feeling better by now, or at least not so deep in your depressive state. 

He’s worried about how you’re going to react to being in an unusual space with unusual people, strangers. Or maybe being in a confined space with him is worse. Travelling for so long is hard on anyone, let alone you right now. 

“What do you think?” John asks as he looks round the room. 

“I don’t think drugging her is going to get you back in her good graces,” Kyle says. 

“It’s 2 flights, almost 12 hours not including another few hours’ drive,” John says. Johnny sighs looking at the others. 

“What would Dr. Montgomery do if she was here?” Johnny asks. 

“We wouldn’t be having this discussion if she was here,” Simon’s voice comes back harshly.  

“Me and Gaz can keep her calm, she seems to be fine around us,” Johnny says. 

“I’m worried about her distressing. We’re going to be in a stuffy cargo plane for hours surrounded by strangers,” John explains. The closest you’d come was when you ran from them in the forest. John looks round them all. He remembers how distressed you were when you woke up in the hospital. Your eyes, blown wide, screaming for him. For your alpha. It only stopped when they sedated you, and it seems you don’t even remember.

There's a collective sigh in the room. They were all there too. They all witnessed it.

“She hasn’t yet, maybe she won’t,” Kyle shrugs.

“One causes more harm than the other,” John says coldly. “Last time was close, too close and there’s no Dr. Montgomery to save her. It would be down to us.” 

“If we decide, how do we get her to take it? She won't even take her pain meds. She’s definitely not going to take a sedative,” Johnny says. 

“There are other options.” John looks round them all. Simon even looks up to meet his eye line. “She doesn’t have to know.” 

Simon tuts shaking his head then walks past John over to the bedrooms. John sighs as he hears the door slam. 

“I guess you both feel the same,” he sighs.

“Well she can't hate you more than she already does,” Johnny says, crossing his arms.

“She doesn't eat, she doesn't sleep. It's almost a day's worth of travel. Maybe it's for the best. Price’s right, if anything happens, we’re stuck in the air,” Kyle says. At least he has Kyle on his side. Johnny lets out a long breath looking over at your room. 

“Let me talk to her. Maybe she'll understand and be more willing to take it?” Johnny suggests. Price nods, picking the vial back up. 

It’s just afternoon when you sulk out of your bedroom to the bathroom. Johnny said he would prepare the bath for you after dinner. You were kind of regretting it now, you would much rather just take a quick shower. When you leave you look into the living room. Kyle and John are on the sofa watching the TV.  You don’t see Simon anywhere. 

You walk into the bathroom and Johnny looks up at you. The tub is still filling up. You walk past him feeling the towels on the shelf. They’re soft and fluffy. You pick one out.

“I can leave if you want?” he asks. You turn to look at him. He’s pouring what looks like salt into the water. The smell of rose hits your nose. You haven’t had much privacy over the last few days, over at least a week. You don’t know how many days you’d been in hospital for. Maybe it’s been longer than you think. 

You don’t really want to be alone. It feels weird, but you can’t describe it. Maybe it’s because they’re betas but you don’t mind Kyle or Johnny being around. You’ve even gotten used to Simon too. He looks less intimidating without his mask.

“Stay,” you say. He nods and you start to pull your clothes off.

You’re used to Johnny seeing you naked by this point. He’s helped you through 2 heats. Still he averts his eyes from you, watching your face as he finishes preparing the bath. It smells good. He keeps pouring products in making the room smell of lavender, rose and other scents you can’t quite place. 

You’re sitting on the toilet watching as he stands back with his hands on his hips. He smiles as you get up walking over to the bath. It’s filled with bubbles. You let the towel drop from your shoulders and dip your hand in feeling the temperature of the water.

“What do you think?” He asks. You nod, stepping into the water. Johnny helps you in as you sit down letting the water rise up above your shoulders. It’s hot but it feels good. You close your eyes for a few seconds letting the water heat through to your bones.

You let out a sigh resting back. You open your eyes looking over at him. He smiles at you.

“That's the smile I love to see,” he says. You didn’t even realise you were smiling. You tip your head to the side letting your hand run over the scar on your neck. The one Dr. Piper left. It’s all you have left from her, the scars she left on your body.

They’ll be healed in a few months, and then you’ll have nothing to remind you, just memories. Right now all the happy memories are tainted. It’s hard to imagine her happy. It's hard to imagine anything other than her suffering. You let out another long sigh watching the bubbles pop on the water. 

“I can wash your hair if you want?” he offers, raising an eyebrow. You nod, smiling at him. You sit up leaning forward in the tub. He kneels down beside you pulling the shower head over and some bottles. 

You let him work. He takes his time wetting your hair through. His movements are gentle as he works his hands up to massage your scalp. It feels good. He opens bottles of shampoo and conditioner. They smell sweet, like you. Strawberries and cream. 

You hug your knees, closing your eyes as Johnny makes sure to get each inch of your hair soapy. It smells good, and it feels good. You hum as his fingers brush through your hair. 

“Johnny, why do people call you Soap?” you ask, opening your eyes and turning to look at him.

“I ate a bar of soap in basic,” he says, chuckling. 

“Really?” you ask, frowning. 

He shakes his head. 

“I’m good at my job, I clear rooms quickly,” he says, bringing up the shower head and washing the soap out of your hair. 

“Like with enemies and stuff?” you ask, turning your head back and resting your chin on your knees. 

“Yeah, or hostages, whatever there is.” 

You close your eyes letting out another sigh as you hear another bottle open. Johnny squirts some in his hands before lathering a thick layer on your hair. You feel sad all of a sudden. 

Dr. Piper used to do this after your heats. You would be locked in a room naked with a hose. She would bring soaps and scrub your body clean, wash your hair then braid it after. You always looked forward to that, a light in the never ending darkness of your heats.

You miss her so much. You squeeze your eyes closed. You don’t want to cry. Your eyes are so raw from tears. You didn’t think it was possible to cry so much. You didn’t think it would be possible to miss someone so much. You loved her.

The water feels good as Johnny washes the conditioner out of your hair, his hands are soft, gentle. He’s taking his time keeping the warm water flowing over you. It’s relaxing. The steam builds up in the room. It's almost lulling you to sleep.

“Johnny, Do you know how to braid hair?” you ask. It’s a long shot. You don’t expect him to know. 

“Yeah,” he replies. You turn to look at him, sniffling. Tears come, but you hope he can’t see them with the water already running down your face. 

“Could you braid my hair?” you ask. 

He nods, smiling. His hand comes up to brush wet hair out your face. He moves round to the back of the tub. He gathers your hair up and starts to braid it.

“How did you learn?” you ask him.

“I have cousins,” he chuckles. You let out a sigh. You don’t have any family anymore. Dr. Piper is dead, the Professor is dead. Your biological parents—who knows where they are or if they’re still alive. You drop your shoulders as Johnny finishes tying the end of the braid off. 

He puts it over your shoulder and you pull it in your hands. He’s done a good job. You run your fingers over it. You feel a chill on the back of your neck. It will be exposed to him. He’ll be able to see John’s mark. Your fingers move around to it. You feel the indents in the skin. 

It will never heal, the skin is too sensitive, or special or something. Dr. Piper explained it better. You always thought you would end up with the Professor's mark. Instead you have John’s mark. You let your hand fall as Johnny stands up walking to the side of the tub. 

“C’mon, you look like you could use a cup of tea.” He holds the towel out. You nod at him, stepping up out of the bath and into the towel he wraps around you. You can’t keep your hands off the braid. It makes you smile. Maybe you’re healing. Johnny and Kyle have been so kind to you. They have been there for you.

“Thank you,” you say, turning to look at Johnny. He kisses your forehead just like John used to, his thumb coming up to rub your cheek. 

“Not a problem.” He smiles. 

It feels like it’s never going to be the same again. Maybe you need a change. Maybe going to the UK is going to be a good thing. You don’t like the thought of being stuck on a plane in close quarters with John. It’s going to be a long trip, to a strange place. 

At least everything Johnny has told you about the house in the highlands seems nice. 

“Did Dr. Montgomery braid your hair for you?” he asks as he opens the door. You nod, tightening the towel around you. When you step out into the main flat goosebumps rise on your body.

John and Kyle are still sat on the sofa as they look over at you. You stare at them for a few seconds. Something inside you burns. You miss John. You miss your alpha. He’s the one who is supposed to be comforting you, telling you everything is going to be okay. 

It’s not going to be okay though and you remember why. The burn gets replaced with anger, sadness and you want nothing to do with him. It’s not healthy for you to be away from your alpha for so long. You need to keep the pack threads tight, and right now you’re barely holding on to John’s. Johnny guides you into your room. 

He closes the door going over to the pile of clothes they bought you. It’s mostly pyjamas, but you don’t mind. You pick some out Johnny comes over helping you dry. You really don’t need the help but you’re too tired to care. 

You change sitting down on the bed as Johnny moves round the room collecting the dirty clothes and towel. 

“After my heat. Professor would lock me in a room. It was this dark concrete room with a one way window and a hose. I always hated that room. It was cold and I was always in pain.” You look up at Johnny who comes over to sit next to you. “Dr. Piper would be there. She would wash me with these soaps that always smelled so good. Then she would braid my hair.” You pull on the braid.  Johnny’s arm wraps round your back, the other resting on your thigh.

“She took good care of you,” he says. You nod, picking at the skin around your fingers. He sighs, placing his hand on yours. You stop picking and look up at him. 

“She loved you, all the way to the end,” he says, his voice low. You feel a lump rising in your chest, and your lip quivers. His hand moves up to your chin, he tips it up so you’re looking directly in his eyes. He has beautiful blue eyes, and a lovely smile. 

“All those good memories you have, the good ones with her. That's what you hold on to. She’ll always be with you,” he says. You sniffle, the tears rolling down your face. 

“John let her die,” you say, the words sounding foreign coming out your mouth. 

“They were both trying to keep you safe. He would never hurt you on purpose.” 

“I miss her,” you sob. 

“I know. It’s okay,” he says, pulling you into his arms. You cry into his chest while he rubs your back, kissing your head. You can smell his calming scent, and you let yourself breathe it in. Maybe this is healing, maybe this is what healing feels like. 

Maybe this is what you need. 

“Johnny, will you stay?” you say pulling your face off his chest. 

“Course love.” Johnny smiles. 

…

Simon sits down next to John on the sofa. He's been avoiding him. Bar following orders, he’s been keeping his distance. He was planning on spending the night in your room again but when he stuck his head in he saw Johnny in your bed. At least you’re not alone. He hates the thought of you being alone.

He’s distracted, going over what happened again and again in his head. John left Piper to die like there was no other way, like they didn’t have a choice. They could have gone back and made another plan to blow the place. They could have dealt with Shadow Company, they could have given Johnny time.

No, John was right during the debrief. Shadow Company were closing in on them, it was the best way to cover their tracks. Piper knew the sacrifice she was making. She would do it every time, she was more like John than she knew. Simon can’t spend his energy worrying about that now. He’s too worried about you. 

There's something about the thought of you being alone that makes his blood run cold. You're safe here. No one other than Laswell knows where they are. John sighs, reaching over and filling the glasses sat on the coffee table with whisky. 

He pushes one towards Simon.

Truce?

Simon reaches over and picks it up.

Yeah.

John smiles and does the same. The news is playing on the TV, anything to drown out the quiet that hangs over the flat. 

“Still mad at me?” he asks before drinking the whole glass. Simon lets out a sigh, taking a sip of the whisky. He doesn’t say anything. He wants to stay mad at John for a long time. He liked Dr. Montgomery, and he doesn’t like seeing you suffer. Who would that help though? No point in causing more rifts in the pack.

He understands the decisions John made, even before the debrief, when they were stuck in the hospital waiting for you to recover and hoping you wouldn’t distress. It was like walking on a knife's edge. John insisted you were kept sedated, at least until your wounds had healed. 

Simon remembers you screaming. It was horrible, like nails down a chalkboard. You were crying out for John like you couldn’t see him, even though he was with you the whole time. Maybe it was the strangers, maybe it was the pain, the miscarriage. It could have been a number of things. It felt like they were losing you. But John always knows when to make the tough decisions. 

For the greater good.

“Hale is dead, the chemical gone. Graves and Shepherd are off our backs.” Simon finishes his drink. “I know why you did it.”

“But I should have done it differently,” John says as a matter of fact. 

Simon sighs. He looks at John. He looks sad. He can see the strain in his face as he pinches the bride of his nose.

“Do you regret it? When you told the omega you should have saved her, did you mean it?” Simon asks as he refills their glasses.

“Yeah, I meant it,” he says. Simon can smell his sincerity in the air. John reaches forward picking up his drink. Simon does the same. 

“How long do you think they’ll stay away?” Simon asks. John lets out a sigh letting the glass rest on his knee. 

“Who knows. We could be arrested when we step off the plane in the UK,” he sighs. 

“That's not going to happen,” Simon scoffs. 

“The last few weeks haven’t exactly gone according to plan,” he sighs. Simon can hear the guilt in his voice. He really does feel bad about this. 

“Not your fault,” Simon sighs. No need for John to spiral further. “You did what you thought was best.”

“Would you have made the same decision?” John asks him. He looks over at John. He liked Dr. Montgomery, he likes you. 

“Yeah I would have,” he admits, looking down. He’s no better than John. “I liked Piper.” 

He finishes his drink, putting the glass down.

“Christ Si. I didn’t know.” 

“Not like that,” Simon tuts, crossing his arms. Something burns in him though. He doesn’t believe the words coming out his mouth. “Would it have changed your decision?” 

“No,” John says, Simon smiles, looking at him. That’s why he’s captain. He made the right choice. Now he’s beating himself up about it. Simon sighs. He shouldn’t push John away; he doesn't deserve it.

For the greater good.

Johnny comes out of your room. Simon looks over before turning back to the TV. He can feel the tension in the air as he moves over to the sofa. He offers him his glass.

Johnny accepts it, Simon can see the gloomy disquiet on his face, not the Johnny Simon is used to seeing.

“I’ll give it to her. You’re her alpha, you're supposed to protect her.” Johnny drinks the whiskey and sits down in one of the chairs putting the glass back down on the coffee table. “If there is any chance of you fixing your relationship with her she needs to trust you again.” 

Simon lets out a sigh looking over at John. He can see the pain in his face. He can smell the guilt in the air. He’s doing the right thing, everything to protect the omega. They’re going to be leaving tomorrow, back to the UK, Scotland, somewhere remote and safe. 

That's where they can fix the relationships. That's where they can repair the damage done to the pack. 

Your scream pierces the silence in the flat. Johnny is on his feet in an instant. John stands up too. The hairs stand up on the back of Simon's neck, his fingers digging into the sofa arm.

Johnny flys through your door with Gaz following behind him, pulling a shirt on. When he sees Johnny’s got you, he closes your door, turning to look at them on the sofa. He smiles. Simon can see the sleep on his face as he heads back to his room.

John sits down letting out a shaky breath rubbing the back of his neck. Simon puts his hand on John's thigh, squeezing it.

“She’ll get better John. She’s got the best people around her. Even Piper knew that.” 

“I let her down, I let the pack down,” he says. 

“You did what you had to do to protect her. Hale is dead, she’s safe,” Simon says. He reaches over, pouring more whisky into the glasses. 

“Soap said we should get something for her,” Gaz says as they get out of the car at the store. Simon hums, locking the car. They’re only supposed to be here for a few things. Things for the flight, things for the next 24 hours.

“Like what?” Simon asks as he pulls the black surgical mask up over his nose. 

“I don’t know, maybe a nice blanket or something she could use on the flight.” 

“She’ll be knocked out,” Simon says, a little harsher than he means. He’s not happy with it. It is going to be a long trip, though. You’re in pain. At least if you’re sleeping you won’t be in pain. 

Simon follows Gaz through the store as he picks up stuff for dinner. Looks like stir fry from what Gaz is putting in the trolley. Simon leaves him in the produce section and heads over to homegoods. He follows the aisle until he comes across pillows and blankets. Simon runs his hands over them. He’s not sure what he’s looking for. The most colourful, fluffiest one. 

He picks out a baby blue one and a fluffy matching pillow. He keeps looking, scanning round for something else. One blanket and one pillow doesn’t feel like enough. Gaz sticks his head round the aisle coming up to Simon. 

“Think she’ll like it?” he asks as Simon places the pillow and blanket in the shopping basket. Simon just hums picking up a thinner cream one and putting it in too. The hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He looks at Gaz who looks past him for a second, eyes focused on something distant before flicking his eyes back to Simon.

Something's wrong. 

“We should get some bottled water,” Gaz says. Simon nods following him out the aisle. “See the man on our 6 with the grey puffer jacket.” 

Ghost turns Gaz down an aisle to his right so he can sneak a look. He doesn’t see anything. Maybe he’s turned down a different aisle.

“Split up, let's see who he follows,” Ghost says as they make it to the end of the aisle. His weapon suddenly feels heavy, tucked in his waistband against his back. Gaz nods, splitting left with the trolly down the main middle aisle. Ghost works his way forward.

He doesn’t need to worry too long though as he turns at the end of the aisle he sees the man out the corner of his eye. Ghost takes a sharp left looping back to the middle aisle. His hairs stand up on the back of his neck again. He is being followed. He spies Gaz and nods at him. He turns left, and Ghost follows him.

He can hear the steps behind him. He's still being followed. There’s a staff-only door at the end of the aisle. Gaz turns to the right out of his view. Ghost speeds up, turning to the left. He spies across to see Gaz waiting there. 

Ghost waits until the stranger is in view before pouncing on him. He grips his wrist pulling his arm up to the top of his back. Before he has time to react Ghost pushes him through the staff only door and up against the wall. Gaz hits the lock on the door coming over to help Ghost wrestling with the man.  

“Fucking hell!” he calls, gritting his teeth as Gaz pats him down. He pulls a pistol off his hip unloading it. 

“You a cop?” Gaz asks. He doesn’t reply, just grunts uncomfortably as Ghost keeps him pressed up against the wall. 

“Concealed carry, pretty illegal. What are you doing following us?” Gaz asks, pocketing the mag. Ghost lets out a sigh. This guy’s not going to talk, or not easily at least. 

“American?” Ghost asks him looking for a reaction on his face. He presses his lips together. 

“Shit, he’s a fucking Shadow,” Gaz says holding a badge up. Ghost sighs. Price had intel from Laswell that Shadows had crossed the border. Price said it wasn’t a problem, Graves would have no idea where the safehouse was, it’s a Canadian special force’s house. At least that was the theory. Guess he was wrong.

“Bit far from home. Did Graves send you up here?” Ghost asks. The man scoffs. Ghost tuts. They don’t need to get anymore info from him. They need to get back to Price and leave. Get out of Canada and up to Scotland where it’s safe. They have clearly outstayed their welcome. 

Gaz goes over to a room labelled maintenance, he comes back out almost as quickly as he disappeared. He holds the black zipties up so Ghost can see. He nods pulling the man off the wall and over to the room. 

It’s a small maintenance cupboard filled with cleaning supplies and various tools. Ghost holds him as Gaz ties his ankles and wrists. 

“You know they’re not after you right?” he says eventually.

“Talking’s not going to get you anywhere,” Ghost says through gritted teeth as he kicks the black of his knees forcing him to yelp in pain and drop to the floor. 

“Didn’t take long for Graves to team up with Shepherd again,” Gaz scoffs under his breath as he ties the guy up to a pipe running up the wall. 

“Match made in heaven,” Ghost says, finally letting go and standing up straight.

“She’s worth more dead than she is alive now that Professor Hale is dead,” he calls as Ghost goes to open the door to leave.

“How’d you figure that?” Gaz asks. Ghost almost wants to turn around and tell him to ignore what he’s saying. He’s most likely just doing this to mess with them, or worse, to stall. They need to leave. 

“That’s what the brief said,” he says.

Shit. There’s a hit out for you, that’s why there’s only one Shadow here.

“What brief?” Gaz asks.

“Gaz, let’s go,” Ghost orders opening the door. Gaz nods, following him, picking up a wet floor sign before closing the door behind him. Ghost leads him out back into the store in silence.

“Clean up in aisle 9?” Gaz chuckles as he puts the sign down in the middle of the aisle.

“Christ you’re worse than Johnny,”  Simon sighs, shaking his head. “C’mon we need to get out of here.” 

You hear commotion in the flat. Something feels wrong, the energy is different. You can hear low murmurs, hushed voices. Hairs stand up on the back of your neck and you sit up in bed. 

Johnny walks through the door. You freeze. He seems tense as he walks over to you. You pull your legs up to your chest as he strides over, sitting down on the bed. He reaches over and turns the light on, but it just makes the expression on his face look darker. 

You can smell his worry in the air. There’s something else too. Fear? Anger? You can’t tell. 

“Hey,” he says, putting something down on the bedside table. It’s a little bottle with clear liquid in it. You don’t know what it is. You look back at him frowning.   

“We’re leaving now,” he says. Panic rises in you. You don’t want to leave. 

“You said we were leaving later tonight.” You’re trying not to get upset, but a lump forms in your throat. It doesn’t go away as tears threaten to spill over. 

“I know but something came up so we’re leaving now,” he says. You blink at him letting the first few drops roll down your cheeks. 

“I don’t want to go,” you let out the cry that’s been stuck in your throat. 

“I know.” 

“It’s like I'm leaving her behind,” you sob, wiping your tears. His hand comes to your chin pulling your head up to look at him. He smiles at you, his head tipped to the side. 

His hand falls down to the centre of your chest and he presses gently. “She’ll always be here with you. The memories you have of her will never go away.” You can smell his sincerity in the air. It’s not helping though. You let out a little smile, sniffling, you look over at the vial on the bedside table.

“What is it?” you ask.

Johnny leans over taking it in his hand. 

“It’s a sedative. We’ve got a long trip. Thought maybe it would be easier. It’s a lot of travelling in confined spaces. I know you’re still in pain,” he says, rolling the vial round in his hand. 

“I don’t want—” You look up at him, the sentence catching in your throat. 

“I know but I think it will help. You won’t have to worry about anything. You just fall asleep and wake up in the UK, skip the whole 11 hour plane ride,” Johnny says. 11 hours on a plane sounds horrible right now. 11 hours on a plane confined in a small space with John sounds even worse. 

Maybe it would be better for all of them if they just leave you behind. 

“Will it hurt?” you ask. You already ache. You’re sick of being in pain. He shakes his head. Maybe a good long nap would be nice. A long nap where you’ll wake up thousands of miles away and still surrounded by people who let you down. 

“Will you be there?” you ask, looking in Johnny’s eyes. He smiles nodding at you pressing his forehead against yours. 

“Every second,” he says. You let out another breath, closing your eyes. 

“What would Dr. Piper do?” you whisper to yourself. Johnny pulls his head back, his hand coming to your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek. You really don’t want to leave, but maybe this way it would be less painful this way. 

Johnny gets up, and the room suddenly feels cold. You can hear more voices now. Simon and Kyle must be back. John’s voice is low, you can hear him giving commands. There’s a knock at the door, and Johnny goes over to take it. You don’t listen to their conversation looking down at your hands and picking at the worn skin.

It’s becoming a bad habit, your fingertips rough with hard and worn skin. You don’t bother listening to who it is. It's probably John. Johnny comes back to the room. It feels like he’s coming to give you the worst news ever. Worse than Dr. Piper being dead. 

Johnny smiles at you, as he comes to sit back down on the bed. You reach over taking Dr. Pipers scarf in your hands. She’d want you to be safe, she would want you to be happy. 

She’d want you to be brave. You have to be brave.

“Where are we going?” you ask, your words slurred as Johnny carries you into the back of a car placing you against Kyle who pulls your seatbelt on. 

“We’re going on holiday,” he says, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, and getting in beside you.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kyle says, pulling your head down onto his shoulder. John closes the door walking over to the front passenger seat. Simon is driving, his focus stuck on the road ahead. John looks back at you as Kyle rubs your thigh. You’re feeling really sleepy, your body heavy as Simon starts to drive. You try to stay awake for as long as you can, but the motion of the car and the smell of beta in the air lulls you to sleep. 

“I think she’s out,” Kyle says a few minutes later. Simon sighs looking over at John. 

“How long will it last?” Johnny asks. 

“A few hours. It should be worn off by the time we land in the UK,” John says. His voice is level as he looks over at Simon. The short drive to the airport goes in silence with John’s eyes constantly looking up in the rearview mirror. You're sleeping up against Kyle. He can smell their scent strongly in the air. Yours too. Strawberries, and mint.

He’s come to associate mint with sadness.  

When they make it to the airport they drive straight through to the waiting military cargo plane. John had to pull an unbelievable amount of strings to get on this transport without anyone asking questions. Not to mention having to bully the commander into leaving early. He was going to owe him big time. 

He managed to get another General in the UK to sign off on their leave for a month at least. The plan was to lay low and see what came out of the investigation in America. Last he had heard from Laswell there wasn’t much they could do since technically the omega doesn’t exist. They were going over the rubble of the ruined mansion. It could take weeks. The DOD have taken a step back not wanting to be affiliated with Professor Hale and the crimes he’s being accused of.  

But now Shadow Company is after you. Laswell managed to find the bounty. As far as they’re aware though, Shepherd knows nothing about it and Hale is dead. Maybe there’s someone new after you, people who want to take over Hale’s work. Dr. Montgomery didn’t round up every person who used to work for him. There are still others out there.

They managed to track them down to Canada, they could easily track them to the UK. Johnny’s house is safe, and they can defend it if they need to. Johnny keeps enough of an arsenal to supply a small army in the basement. They’re going to be fine. Hopefully when they get there he can let his guard down a little, try and relax. 

The car drives up into the back of the plane. There are a few soldiers mulling around, some of whom will be travelling back with them. John doesn’t trust any of them. He barely trusts the commander who chartered the flight in the first place. 

“In the boot there’s some blankets,” John says, turning back to look at you still with your face pressed up against Kyle’s shoulder. Johnny is reaching over into the back pulling them up. Simon and John get out of the car. Simon comes round opening the door for Johnny who scoots out. Kyle moves you into Johnny’s arms and he lifts you up. 

Simon reaches over, taking the blankets and draping them over you. He looks at Johnny as he pulls the blankets right up under your chin. Your head rests against his chest as you’re carried through to the extra jump seats. Johnny lowers you down into the middle seat as Kyle and Simon wrap the blankets around you.  

Johnny gets in first taking the window seat and Kyle sits on the other side of you. You slump against Kyle as Johnny moves over you, re-adjusting the blankets and placing the pillow under your head. John walks through the doors last. He stops in the aisle looking over at you as Johnny attaches your seatbelt. 

It hurts him he had to do this. You look so peaceful leaning against Kyle. He wishes it was different. He has no idea if or when you’ll forgive him but he’ll keep trying. He wants to reach out and hold you, pull you against him and tell you everything is going to be okay.

That's supposed to be his job, to take care of you and the pack. Things are going to be different now. He’s going to step up. Things are going to change.

He can’t stand seeing you like this and knowing that he was the one who hurt you. 

“She’s making progress, Cap, she just needs time. We all do,” Kyle says. John smiles at him. He knows he’s trying to make him feel better. He puts his hand on his shoulder and squeezes it nodding at him. He lets out a sigh going to sit in the adjacent aisle with Simon. 

Simon hands him a tablet. More paperwork, more news from Laswell. Probably nothing good. He can’t help looking back over at you. He can just about see your body pressed up against Kyle as the betas fuss over you. 

The door opens and soldiers funnel in, they take seats, some of them clocking you as they do, muttering under their breath like school boys. It makes John uncomfortable. He closes the tablet down, putting it in the pocket of the seat in front of him. 

“Who's the chick?” John hears one of them chuckle. He ignores it, sighing and attaching his seatbelt. He can’t let them get to him, he closes his eyes. 9 hours couldn’t go any slower.

“Hey!” an unfamiliar American voice calls angrily. 

“Keep yer comments to yourself, yeah?” That’s Soap. 

“MacTavish,” John says, looking over at them. One of the soldiers is looking back over the seats at Soap gripping the chair. 

“He started it, Cap,” Soap protests. 

“I don’t care,” he says, sighing. The other soldier sits back down. You murmur, scooting up closer to Kyle, pulling your legs up onto the chair. John moves his eyes over to you as Kyle moves so you’re more comfortable. 

John sighs, he wants to be with you so badly it hurts, every fibre in his body is screaming for him to be near you. You’re knocked out, you wouldn’t know. He stops himself. He needs to respect your space. He needs to let you come to him when you’re ready. 

From now on he’s going to do a better job at protecting you and taking care of the pack.

“Want me to move her?” Simon asks. John shakes his head. 

“I’m going to take a nap, wake me up if we’re crashing or Soap’s trying to rip someone's head off.” He leans back, pulling his hat over his face. It was going to be a long flight. 

Simon didn’t wake him until they were about to land. You were already starting to stir. You started mumbling and drooling over Kyle as he tried to keep you calm. The scent of both the betas filled up the small space they’re confined in. 

You grumbled as they tried moving you when the plane landed. 

“C’mon lass,” Johnny encouraged you to lean against Kyle so he could rearrange your blankets. John watched them almost fighting with you, your eyes fluttering open now and then. It looks like you’re searching for something. The other soldiers leave first before John stands up heading out to the cargo hold with Simon following behind him.

He needs to clear his head. Simon should have woken him earlier. 

“You good?” Simon asks him as they make it to the car. He nods, getting in the front passenger seat. It’s not long before he sees Kyle coming with you in his arms. You have a sick bag in your hands. It makes him tense as they open the car door. 

“She threw up,” Johnny says as he gets in first. John sighs. This is his fault. Now you’re sick and they still have another flight, plus a few hours drive. You whine as Kyle places you up against Johnny. 

“Alpha?” You whimper, reaching out and gripping onto Johnny. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of John’s neck. You’re crying for him. He grips his seatbelt. 

“Got any water?” Johnny asks. Kyle passes him his canteen. Johnny presses it up to your lips but you moan turning your head away. 

“C’mon love you’ve got to drink something. It will make you feel better,” Johnny says, chasing your lips. You sigh, opening your eyes and taking sips from the canteen. “Good girl, there ya go.” 

“Maybe we should just drive up?” Simon asks as he starts the engine. 

“It’s a 10 hour drive. Even when we land in Edinburgh, it’s another 4 hours on the road,” John sighs. The car backs out of the plane as they make the quick drive to another cargo plane. John looks back at you, your eyes closed again leaning up against Johnny. 

…

You don’t wake again until they’ve landed in Scotland. Even then it's a slur of murmuring and quiet sobs.

Maybe this was a bad idea, John thinks after a stop off at a petrol station where you vomit again. This time it brings tears and shaking. 

“Cold,” you whisper, your lip quivering as Kyle is trying to get you to drink some more water. He gives up in the end, sighing as you sleepily blink up at him. He hums, pulling the fluffy blue blanket up and around you tighter, shushing you.

John gets out of the car looking in the building where Johnny and Simon are paying for the petrol. It’s cold, it's late. He wants nothing more than to just crawl into bed with you in his arms. He breathes in the frigid Scottish air as he sees Johnny and Simon walk over to the car. 

Johnny’s beaming as he walks over with a coffee in his hands. Of course he is; he’s home. He gets in the back as Simon walks over to him. 

“Get some rest, I can drive,” John says. 

“I’m good,” Simon says. John scoffs.

“I know you are but I slept on the plane, let me drive.” 

“It’s not a problem,” Simon says and before John can stop him he’s walking back around the car to the driver's seat. John sighs getting in the car. 

“Half way then we switch,” he says as he puts his seatbelt on. He looks in the back. Your eyes are glossy, your cheeks wet. You meet his eyes. It’s the first time you’ve really looked at him in what feels like forever. A smile tugs on his lips. You’re looking at him with your unfocused gaze. 

You smile at him, a soft smile, the type that makes his heart flutter and goosebumps rise up the back of his neck. It’s bittersweet since you’re still zoned out. Before he knows it your smile is gone and your eyes are drooping closed again. He sighs, turning back to look out down the road, the thick foliage of the Scottish highlands coming into view.

For the greater good. 

You don’t remember much of the drive. Every time you opened your eyes it made your head spin. All you could see was the bright headlights of the car against the trees. It reminded you of trying to run from your pack. 

Kyle’s arm around you is warm, his grip soft as he holds you against him. It feels like you’re driving for hours. Sometimes you try to focus on the conversation between Simon and John but you end up drowning them out. The winding roads sway you to sleep as you dribble over Kyle’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind though.

“Hey, we’re here,” Kyle says as he gently shakes your shoulder. You sit up, stiff as you stretch looking round the car. You’re tired, cold and shivering as Kyle opens the door getting out. You unclip your belt scooting across to the open door. 

“Simon’s going to get the fire started,” he says as he leads you inside. The house is old, but big you walk in looking down the hall that has indoor windows looking through to the dining room. The lights are low. The whole place has a cosy feel to it. You just wish it wasn’t so cold.

You let Kyle lead you through to the living room. There’s a plush sofa, a TV, record player and a book shelf. You see Simon bent down in front of the fire. You don’t see John or Johnny anywhere. The place smells like damp wood, but you can smell the embers of the fire starting as you look round the room. 

“This wood’s wet. It’s not gonna take,” Simon says, standing back up. You look over at smoke coming out into the room.

“It's fine, it's late anyway. I think we could all use a good night's rest,” Kyle says. You nod as he heads out the room back into the hallway. You turn back to look at Simon taking gloves off and throwing them into the pile of logs. You can see John and Johnny in the kitchen. 

“C’mon you can have the first pick of the rooms,” Kyle says, wrapping his arm around you as he leads you upstairs. Upstairs feels warmer but not by much. You stand in the hall looking around. All the doors are cracked open and you walk up to one. There’s two beds inside. You move to the room next to it, the same. 

“What about here?” Kyle asks, smiling pushing a door open. You go over to see what you assume is the master bedroom. It’s beautiful with a four poster bed, a fireplace and a chaise longue. It’s dark but you can see the windows look out towards the woods. You smile stepping inside. It’s lovely. You feel guilt rise in you.

“It’s John’s room,” you say, turning to leave. Kyle shrugs from the doorway.

“It’s no one’s room,” he replies. 

John gets the biggest room because he’s the Captain. Or maybe Johnny will take it, it’s his house after all. You walk over to another door, this room is smaller than the rest only big enough for a single bed and a rocking chair. You go in and look out the window. 

It looks out over the front of the house and you can see Simon and Johnny bringing bags out of the car. The latches on the window look old, brass and heavy as you click it open. Cold air immediately blows into the room. You can open the windows as wide as you want, not like the windows on the base. 

You take in a deep breath and go to sit down on the bed. There's a small bedside table with a lamp but the only light coming in the room right now is from the outdoor lights. 

“Like it?” Kyle asks from the doorway. You look up at him nodding. He moves out the way as you hear commotion in the hall. Johnny walks in the room hitting the main light as he comes in. 

“Hey lass, how are you feeling?” he asks, putting a bag down. 

“Tired,” you say. You’re not really in the mood for a whole conversation. He hums, coming over to run his hand over your head, and you look up at him. 

“It’s been a long day. You should sleep, you'll feel better tomorrow,” he says, his thumb brushing your cheek. You feel bad. You’ve been sleeping the whole way, you don’t understand why you’re so tired. Johnny turns around closing the window. “You can put it on a latch if you want some fresh air,” he says, moving out of the way so you can see. 

“Thank you,” you nod at him. He smiles, leaving the room.

“If you need anything you know where to find us,” Kyle says, pulling the door closed, but not fully. They always leave a gap. You look over at the window, and you can see your reflection. Your braid is almost completely pulled out. You run your hands over it pulling on the hair tie at the bottom letting it fall apart. 

You run your fingers through it pulling it apart before walking over to your bag unzipping it. It’s your clothes, mostly PJ’s. Dr. Piper's scarf is sitting on the top. You take it out, bringing it up to your nose. The scent is fading. It will eventually be gone. Scents don’t last forever. 

You stand up taking the deepest breath you can. You can smell beta, soap, clean sheets straight out of the dryer. It’s a comforting smell, you miss it. You get up rubbing the back of your neck. You turn the light off pulling your clothes off so you’re in your underwear and climb into the bed. 

It’s cold and you find yourself pulling your legs up to your chest. You look out the open window. You hear a door close and the outdoor lights are turned off. You let your eyes adjust to the dark. You look up. You can see the moon. It’s big and full, lighting up the room. You can’t remember the last time you saw the moon, never mind this full. 

You smile bringing her scarf up to your nose. Dr. Piper would love to see this. A star filled sky. Maybe if there is a heaven, she’s there looking down at you. You don’t think you believe in heaven, it makes you think of the house on the hill, with the pies and the lake. The smell of caramelised apples and cinnamon in the air. The summer breeze and the sky burnt orange and red, the whole place surrounded by trees. That's your heaven. That’s where Dr. Piper is waiting for you. 

It’s still your happy place. You can still go there when you need to, and Dr. Piper is there. She’ll always be there.

Next

Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 11

Summary: the day everyone dreaded has finally arrived. Facing impossible odds against Hybern, defeat seems inevitable- but nothing could have prepared Y/n for what's about to unfold.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, injury, blood & gore, character death, trauma, and self-blame.

WC: 6.5 K.

You can read previous chapters here Fictober Challenge

As the sun began to rise, the light hit Y/n’s face, and the soft breeze made strands of her hair fall on her face, causing her to stir. She blinked groggily, bringing a hand up to shield her eyes from the sunlight as she took in her surroundings. She was still outside that village, where she and Azriel watched the stars. Something hard rested beneath her head: a muscled chest. Her heart stuttered in panic Shit! 

She looked up, only to meet a set of hazel eyes already locked on her. Azriel’s gaze was steady,  his lips curving into a small smile. Y/n quickly rubbed her eyes and sat up, pulling away from his chest, her fingers brushing through her tangled hair.

“Good morning” Azriel greeted softly, his voice warm.

She groaned, rolling her shoulders to work out the stiffness. “Did you get any sleep at all?”.

“I couldn’t” he replied, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He shifted slightly, flexing his stiff wings.

“Sorry. Did I seriously fall asleep here?” she asked, squinting at him, her expression a mix of embarrassment and disbelief.

“Yes. You slept like a baby” he teased, his eyes soft as they flickered over her sleepy face.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” she frowned, still brushing her hair out of her face.

“You looked so peaceful,” he admitted, his gaze unwavering. “And I know you usually have trouble sleeping at night. I didn;t want to wake you, afraid you wouldn’t fall back asleep.”

“And you stayed sitting like that all night?” She glanced at him, her tone now concerned as she rubbed her temples, half-asleep and not fully processing his words.

“It’s not as bad as you might think” he said, his hand subtly massaging his own shoulder to hide the discomfort.

“Do you enjoy pain that much?” she muttered, narrowing her eyes at him. 

Azriel chuckled softly, the sound like a gentle hum. “Only when it comes to you” he half-joked.

Y/n huffed, tilting her head back and closing her eyes briefly. “Funny. How long do we have before we need to leave?”.

“Not long. Everyone should be waking up now” he said, his eyes lingering on her.

She groaned again, burying her face in her hands. “I just want to sleep some more” she muttered, her voice muffled by her palms. 

“You can lay your head back, I’ll wake you when everyone is ready” Azriel offered.

“I need to lie down on my soft pillows, no offense to your chest.” SHe flashed him a teasing smile, though her eyes were still heavy with sleep. “Besides, aren’t you tired? If anyone should rest for a few minutes, it’s you. I’ll even offer my lap for your head- it’s at least soft.”

Azriel’s brows lifted, surprised at her playful tone. He was seeing a new side of her- a side she kept hidden for so long. A side she probably wasn’t aware she was showing in her sleepy state.

“I’d like nothing more than to take you up on that offer,” he said, his smile slowly fading. “But I’m afraid if I fall asleep now, I won’t wake up in time for battle.”

“All the more reason you should” she yawned, her words slurred, as she rested her head on her knees.

A soft chuckle escaped him again. His eyes softened, warmth flickering in them as he watched her relaxed state. “You look cute when you wake up in the morning” he said, almost as if he couldn;t stop the words from slipping out.

Y/n peeked at him through half-lidded eyes, her expression deadpan. “The first and last person who called me cute ended up in the infirmary, on the brink of death” she murmured, her lips twitching with a teasing smile. “So, be careful with your next words.” 

Azriel chuckled again, but this time there was a flash of something else in his eyes- something deeper, more vulnerable. “Sometimes, I don’t know if you’re joking or telling the truth” he admitted, watching her with a thoughtful look.

“Fuck around and find out” she replued with a sleepy grin. 

Something about her in that moment- unguarded, without the usual walls she built around herself- made him pause. The way her guard was down, how her words flowed without caution or restraint, sent a chill through him. 

If they had more time, he would've loved nothing more than to sit here, watch her like this for a little longer- ask her the questions he never dared to ask before. He wanted to wrap his shadows around her, to protect her from everything the world would throw their way.

But war was calling. And he didn’t know if he would ever get the chance to see her like this again. Hell, he didn’t know if he’d get to see her at all after today. One thing he knew for certain: if she were in danger, which she likely would be, he’d gladly lay down his life for her. He just hoped if that moment came, she’d forgive him for it.

Cassian was the first to emerge, his usual swagger replaced by a quiet resolve, as he approached his brother and Y/n. There was no snarky comment this time, just a firm nod before he turned his attention to the task ahead. Soon after, Rhys and the others gathered, their expression grim but determined. 

As they took to the sky, Cassian immediately started executing the war strategy, his sharp eyes scanning the battlefield while he changed captains and formations with swift precision. 

The sisters quickly changed into Illyrian leathers, though Elain, finding the tight-fitting attire scandalous, was offered more modest clothing by Viviane. Y/n, on the other hand, embraced the Illyrian leathers, slipping into the black leather pants before throwing on a custom-made black leather coat that resembled a dress. Her lips twitched with satisfaction as she adjusted the coat’s collar- if she was going to fight, she was going to fight in style. 

Cassian approached, handing out weapons. He gave Nesta and Y/n each a knife, but Y/n shook her head, refusing. Instead, she asked for a sword, her voice steady.

The group collectively still. Cassian blinked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, a scoff escaping his lips. “And what are you going to do with a sword? You can’t even fight. I even offered to train you.” His voice had a teasing edge, though a thread of genuine concern was woven into his words.

Y/n squared her shoulders, chin lifting defiantly, eyes narrowing. “You don’t know that. Besides, don’t you need everyone willing to fight on the battlefield?”

Cassian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, warriors who have been trained and know how to fight.”

“Look, we don’t have time to argue.” Her tone turned sharp, her eyes flashing. “I have made up my mind. Feyre and Nesta don’t need me. They can nullify the Cauldron with your High Lord’s second-in-command. I’m not going to sit back and watch people die while I do nothing. I’m going on that battlefield.”

“Y/n, you can’t,” Feyre interjected, her voice soft but laced with worry, her eyes flickering nervously between Rhys and her sister. 

“Why?” Y/n jaw clenched as she turned to Feyre. “Because I might die? So can everyone else on the battlefield. So can you.”

Rhys stepped forward, his expression unreadable, though his tone was unyielding. “I forbid it.”

“You’re not my High Lord. I don’t have to listen to you” Y/n shot back, her voice cold.

“If you won’t listen to me, then do it for your sisters. They’ll be worried about you” Rhys replied, his voice quieter now, though his violet eyes bore into hers.

Y/n’s lips curled into a defiant smirk. “Everyone would be worried about you too, so…” 

Before the tension could escalate further, Azriel stepped forward. His voice was calm, almost a whisper, but it cut through the heated exchange like a blade. “Y/n, can I talk to you alone for a moment?” Without waiting for a response, he gently took her wrist, his touch warm but firm, and led her toward one of the nearby war tents.

Once inside, she tugged her hand from his grasp, eyes narrowing. “What is it?” 

Azriel sighed, his scarred hands flexing at his sides before he crossed his arms over his chest, as if steeling himself. “You being out there would play to our disadvantage. It’s not about whether you can fight or not,” he began, his voice low and controlled, “but if you’re out there, I’ll be distracted- worried about you, My focus won’t be on the fight, and I need to be focused” 

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the admission. “What? Why? And since when do you care?”

Azriel’s expression flickered, his eyes darting away for a split second as if realizing he had said too much. He cleared his throat, trying to recover. “We’d all be worried, focused on you. Me, Cassian, Rhys…You’re my High Lady’s sister. We failed her- you- once, I- we’re not about to make the same mistake twice. It’s better if you go with them. You’re needed more there. When they destroy the Cauldron, someone needs to watch their back.”

His hands moved to his waist, and he unhooked a small blade. He held it out to her, his scarred fingers brushing hers as he placed it in her hand. “Here take this. This is Truth-Teller. It has never failed me once. If someone comes near, use it. It will strike true. It will serve you well.”

Y/n stared down at the blade in her hand, the weight of his words sinking in. Then, she pulled her hand back, her expression hardening once more. “So, after a long discussion with your brothers, you’re allowed to fight while you’re still limping, but I shouldn’t?” 

“You make it sound so easy,” he replied, a faint smile ghosting his lips. “I barely managed to convince them. And I won’t be doing any flying today.”

“Good” she muttered, though relief was obvious in her voice. Her eyes flicked over his wings, concern softening her features for a brief moment. She had overheard the argument yesterday, the three Illyrians debating over whether Azriel should fly or not. She was glad they had talked some sense into him.

“I’ll go with them. You don’t have to worry about me- about us,” she added, her voice dropping to a quiet murmur. “I’ll protect my sisters with my life.”

Azriel’s gaze softened, but he said nothing, simply nodding as they exited the tent. Outside, Rhys was giving a rousing speech, his words both inspirational and grounding as he spoke about each of his family members. His tone became lighter when he turned to Feyre’s three sisters, his violet eyes sparkling with warmth.

“We haven’t known each other for long, but I believe you were brought here, into our family, for a reason, too.” His gaze landed on Y/n, and he smirked slightly. “And you, amongst other things, I believe you were brought here to be a pain in my ass, but also to challenge and balance me. Your presence here is appreciated."

Y/n rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Alright, wrap it up. This is becoming too sappy for me.”

Her words brought a ripple of soft laughter from the group, but even as the moment lightened, there was tension underneath it all- a tension that hummed in the air like the calm before the storm.

—

Looking over at the army they faced, Y/n felt her chest tighten as dread curled deep within her. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and for a brief, terrifying moment, it was heard to breathe. They were vastly outnumbered- overwhelmed. A shiver ran down her spine as the sinking feeling settled in her gut. Something was going to go wrong today. She could feel it. Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard, afraid that this might be the day she lost someone she loved. 

The five High Lords stood in their designated places, ready for battle, but there was no sign of Tamlin or Beron. The enemy held the high ground, which left them at a disadvantage, and Y/n’s stomach churned uneasily. 

Rhys turned to Cassian, his expression sharp. “How long do you think we have?”

Cassian’s jaw clenched, his brows furrowing in deep concern as he surveyed the battlefield. “Worst case scenario? A few hours… before we’re all probably dead.”

Y/n’s breath hitched at Cassian’s grim words, and she fought to keep her fear at bay. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she tried to hold onto some semblance of calm. There was still no word on the Cauldron’s whereabouts, but even when they found it, they would have to go on foot, through the heart of the battlefield, because of the strong wards the King had reinforced. 

Cassian led the Illyrian legions into the sky, their powerful wings beating against the wind as Thesan’s Peregryns legion joined them.  Y/n watched them rise, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear, her heart pounding faster at the sight of them flying headlong into the fray. Magic erupted on both sides as the shields placed around the armies crumbled under the assault.

With the glamour gone, Y/n’s breath caught as she saw the Bone Carver and Bryaxis at the front lines. Feyre had made a deal with them to fight on their side. The eerie sight of the two immortals, combined with the primal energy they emitted, sent a shiver down Y/n’s spine.

Then, the Weaver appeared- her dark, menacing figure cutting through the battlefield like a shadow of death. This time, it had been Rhys who struck the deal. The air was thick with the sounds of the battle- screams, metal clashing, and the roars of the Weaver, the Bone Carver and Bryaxis shredding soldiers to pieces with terrifying efficiency.  

Y/n’s voice was soft, laced with curiosity and fear. “So, that’s what was under the library?” she asked, her eyes flickering to Feyre.

Feyre nodded, her face pale but composed, recalling what Cassian had told her. “Yes. You were drawn to it. If Cassian hadn’t stopped you that day, you would’ve gone down to face it.”

Y/n shook her head slowly, her brow furrowed as she tried to process it. “I didn’t know what it was. I just felt… a tug. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Feyre’s voice dropped to a whisper. “What did it say to you?”

Y/n's lips twitched into a faint, bitter smile. “Nothing important. Just some cryptic shit.”

In a single, fluid motion, Rhys raised his hand, and with a flick of his fingers, hundreds of soldiers were simply…gone. Misted into nothingness. The raw power that radiated from him sent a ripple of awe through Y/n. She leaned closer to Feyre, her voice hushed. “Now I know why they call your mate the most powerful High Lord.”

Rhys, catching her words, smirked at her over his shoulder, his violet eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement despite the grim situation.

Azriel moved next, his face impassive, eyes dark and focused, as his seven siphons flared to life. The raw power he unleashed was almost tangible, the air around him shimmering with the force of his magic. Y/n couldn’t help but glance at him, her heart twisting in her chest. His magic, combined with the sight of him fighting with such unrelenting strength, sent a rush of emotions through her.

The flying legions surged forward, arrows raining down on the enemy. The army below responded in kind, only their arrowheads were made from Faebane. Y/n’s gaze followed the trajectory of each arrow, her breath catching in her throat as she watched Illyrian soldiers fall. The battlefield was a chaotic mess of death and destruction, and it felt like the wat would end before they even got close to the Cauldron.

Then, a horn blared- piercing sound that cut through the chaos. Y/n’s head snapped toward the north as three armies emerged from the horizon. Relief washed over her, though it was tinged with disbelief. Beron and Tamlin had come to their aid, along with a mortal army led by Graysen and Jurian. Eris landed in front of Rhys, his usual haughty demeanor replaced by determination.

He told him the armies awaited orders, but it seemed Beron’s army had already moved, destroying the enemy's wagons full of Faebane and burning everything in their way. Rhys told Feyre to make their move now. 

Feyre and her sisters prepared to move out. Before leaving, Y/n stole a glance back at Azriel, her heart heavy with unspoken words. Her lips parted, but whatever she wanted to say lodged in her throat. She closed her mouth again, deciding against it. 

The females, cloaked by a glamour and Azriel’s shadows, followed the trail of death left behind by the Weaver, who appeared to have an uncanny ability to smell the Cauldron. As they approached enemy territory, Y/n and Nesta both sucked in a breath at the same time, their bodies tensing, every nerve on edge. They could feel it- the dark, pulsing presence of the Cauldron. It was close. 

Seconds later, Rhys and Azriel were there, appearing beside them in a blur of power. Without a word, the two of them cast shields around the army, their magic glowing brightly as it encased their forces. But just as Y/n began to feel the faintest glimmer of hope, Nesta screamed- Cassian’s name tearing from her lips with raw panic.

Cassina rushed toward them, but before he could reach them, the Cauldron’s blast struck the earth. The ground shook violently, a deafening roar filling the air as the impact rippled across the battlefield. Y/n’s knees buckled, and she barely managed to stay upright as she watched in horror. The Illyrian legion dropped dead, their bodies crumpling to the ground in an instant. Even Rhys and Azriel’s shields shattered like glass, leaving them all exposed.

For a heartbeat, everything was still, the silence deafening in the wake of such devastation. But Y/n knew- she knew it wasn’t over. The King was preparing to use the Cauldron again, and this time… they might not survive it. The Carver was gone- wiped away by the blast.

Cassian landed next to Nesta, his chest heaving, thinking she was injured. His breath caught when he realized the truth- she had saved him. His eyes widened for a moment, before guilt and gratitude flickered across his face. But there was no time for words, no time for anything except the gnawing truth: they were losing. Fast.

They needed to get to the Cauldron- urgently, desperately- but Nesta was in no condition to move, her face place, her breath shallow. Elain wasn’t faring much better, vomiting uncontrollably into the grass nearby, her body shaking with the force of it. Y/n’s heart clenched painfully at the sight of them both, feeling utterly helpless. Her fingers twitched, clenching into fists, as if sheer willpower alone could summon her powers. But nothing came.

Feyre’s voice trembled as she asked, “Can we destroy the Cauldron with just me?” Her eyes were wide, flickering with fear and determination.

Y/n stepped forward, squaring her shoulders, trying to muster some strength. “If you need me, I’ll go with you” she said, her voice steady even as her insides churned with doubt. But Amren shook her head. “We can handle it.”

Y/n rose to her feet, surveying the battlefield- her heart sinking at the sight. Death was everywhere, littering the field like a dark, suffocating blanket. Bodies, blood, and broken weapons surrounded them on all sides, and a cold numbness began to creep into her bones. She tried, once again, to call upon her powers, but they remained silent, out of reach. Her lips parted in frustration, her breath ragged, but there was nothing.

Then, another horn sounded. Y/n’s head snapped toward the sound, and her blood ran cold. Hybern’s army was closing in, surrounding them from every direction. There was no escape.

How were they supposed to face all of them when they can’t even handle one army? Y/n thought to herself.

Rhys turned to Azriel, his face grim but composed. “Azriel, you lead the remaining Illyrians on the northern flank.”

Azriel nodded sharply, already preparing to take flight, when Y/n’s voice halted him. “Good luck” she murmured, her eyes fixed on him. Her chest tightened with an inexplicable dread, not knowing if this would be the last time she saw him.

Azriel’s wings unfurled, his face hard with focus, but before he could take to the skies, Y/n called out again, softer this time. “And Azriel?... Be careful. Try not to die.”

She said his name for the first time, and Azriel’s breath hitched, a flicker of surprise lightening his hazel eyes. He stood still for a fraction of a second, as if her words had struck him somewhere deep, but he quickly masked it. He had waited so long to hear his name from her lips, yet this was the worst possible moment to dwell on it. War was raging around them, and the stakes were too high.

He gave her a short nod, then leapt into the sky without looking back. Y/n watched him ascend, her heart aching at the sight of his strained wings- how much effort it took for him to fight despite his injuries, how much he was willing to sacrifice for his family, for his people, for everyone. Her fingers brushed against her lips unconsciously, as if trying to hold onto the moment, the fleeting connection between them before the chaos swallowed them whole.

Rhys’ voice cut through the tense air, commanding Cassian to take the southern flank. As the two Illyrians were about to fly, the sound of a dozen horns echoed across the sky- a triumphant, hopeful sound that lifted the oppressive weight pressing down on Y/n’s chest. Her eyes widened in disbelief as thousands of winged soldiers appeared, their formation tight and disciplined. An armada of ships approached from the eastern horizon, their sails full as they sliced through the waters. 

Drakon’s legion had arrived, the Seraphim. And on those ships- thousands of soldiers, Miryam’s people, allies from the old war. Relief surged through Y/n, momentarily easing the dread that had gripped her, The winged male leading them descended next to Rhys, the two exchanging quick, sharp words as they caught up on the situation.

The male informed them of an armada they’d met halfway through their journey- soldiers who he thought were friends of Rhys. And then, he spoke of the last queen, Vassa, who had been betrayed by the other mortal queens. He told the sisters that she was found by a man who called himself the Prince of Merchants. Their father- he was here. Although her relationship with him had deteriorated over the past few years, Y/n still cared about him. She had never forgotten the kindness he had shown her, how he treated and loved her like one of his own daughters. Her eyes flickered to the ships nearing the shore, and there- etched on the side of each one- were the names of his daughters. Her father’s personal ships.

The sight of his fleet brought a lump to her throat, and for a brief moment, the cold exterior she had built over the years cracked. Her lips trembled slightly, but she quickly masked it, steeling herself for what was to come.

As Nesta approached Rhys, she requested to be used as bait, her voice sharp and unwavering. Y/n immediately insisted on going with her, knowing full well that the King harbored a particular hatred for the two of them. Between the power Nesta had stolen from the Cauldron and Y/n’s past deeds- slaughtering his men the last time they were on the battlefield- his fury would be unmatched.

The thought of what he could do to them, though…the chill that ran down Y/n’s spine was enough to make her doubt for a heartbeat. Would he kill them on the spot? Or worse- would he control them? Use their power against those they loved? The second option scared Y/n more than death itself. The idea of being used as a weapon against the people she had sworn to protect sent a fresh wave of terror coursing through her veins.

It was a reckless plan, but it was the only one that offered a chance to destroy the Cauldron. Cassian, ever loyal and protective, volunteered to accompany the sisters, standing by their side without hesitation. He and Rhys debated fiercely for a moment, the tension between them heavy, knowing full well that this could be a death sentence.

The three of them faced a high probability of death, but none of them backed down. Y/n’s gaze hardened, determination burning in her chest, as she glanced at Cassian and Nesta. If this was their fate, they would meet it head-on. Together.

—

Nesta had finally drawn the King’s attention, rallying the power within her. Y/n stood beside her, desperately trying to summon her own powers, her breath shaky and her hands trembling as she reached deep inside herself- nothing. A flicker of panic raced through her, but she shoved it down, focusing on her sister’s power surging next to her.

But before Nesta could strike, the King appeared- materializing out of the shadows with a twisted smile on his face. Beside him, one of his beats loomed, its massive form dark and menacing, claws gleaming in the pale light. The world seemed to narrow in on itself, the sound of the battlefield fading into a suffocating silence as Y/n’s eyes locked onto the sight before her.

The King held a sword to their father’s throat, the blade pressed tightly against his skin. To his right, the beast had its claws wrapped around Y/n’s biological father, gripping him by the throat. One wrong move, and both their throats would be ripped open.

“No” Y/n gasped, a low sob escaping her lips, her voice raw and breaking. Her legs felt like jelly beneath her, and she struggled to stay upright as her worst fear began to unfold right in front of her eyes. 

The King’s voice was cruel, his smirk cold and calculating. “You two- do you know how much you’ve cost me? I thought of ways to make you pay. Who knew the answer would fall so neatly into my hands?” He sneered, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight.

“Please” the sisters begged in unison, their voice shaky, but Y/n’s cracked with desperation. “Don’t hurt them” she added, her voice breaking, her heart hammering in her chest. How had her father ended up here? He was supposed to be far away from this- safe. She had sent him a letter, hoping to keep him distant from the battle. But now, here he was, dressed in battle attire, and only one thing standing between him and death was the cruel whim of the King. 

The King’s eyes flicked between them, enjoying their agony. “And what will you give me in return?” 

“Whatever you want” Y/n replied, her voice shaky but resolute. “Just let them go.” 

“Will you give back what you took from me?” the King asked, his tone mocking.

“Yes” Nesta answered without hesitation, her chin lifted defiantly, her voice hard as steel.

The King’s grin widened, his hand tightening on the sword. “Even if I have to carve it out of you?”

Nesta’s face remained cold, but Y/n could see the flicker of fear in her sister’s eyes. “Do whatever you want to me” Y/n whispered, her voice desperate, pleading. “Just let them go, please.”

Their father snarled, his voice filled with defiance despite the blade at his throat. “Don’t you dare lay your filthy hands on my daughters-”

A sickening snap echoed through the air. The King’s hand moved in one swift, merciless motion, snapping their father’s neck like it was nothing. Y/n’s world tilted, the sound reverberating in her mind. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she crumbled to the ground, her knees hitting the dirt. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and tears blurred her vision as she stared at her father’s lifeless body, his eyes open, but vacant- gone.

A choked osb ripped from her throat as she reached out, but he was too far away. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, and she knelt there, frozen, as the weight of what had just happened pressed on her chest, suffocating her.

“Wait until you see what I have planned for your real father” the King continued, his voice dripping with malice. “You’ve caused me so much trouble, and I am going to make you suffer for it.” He gestured to the beast holding her biological father. “Keep him alive until the end.” 

Nesta stood still, her face a blank mask, but Y/n could see it- the devastation in her sister’s eyes. The spark of her power died out, leaving her hollow. Cassian, in a desperate attempt to protect her, launched himself at the King, his body moving like a whirlwind of rage. 

But Y/n remained frozen, her body refusing to move,  no matter how much she begged it to. Her limbs felt like lead, her eyes fixed on her father’s body- his lifeless form burned into her mind. She had always feared this moment, the helplessness of standing by as someone she loved was taken from her.

Her biological father’s voice broke through the fog of her mind, weak and strained. “I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Y/n turned slightly to face him, her voice barely a whisper, breaking as she spoke. “Why are you here? Why didn’t you stay away?”

“I came for you. I had to. There’s something important I have to tell you and I need you to listen carefully” he croaked, his voice trembling. “If I don’t make it, there’s a letter…in my pocket. Take it.”

“No- don’t say that. You’ll make it. I’m sorry- I’m so sorry- I-” Her words tumbled out, frantic, broken, when suddenly Cassina’s scream tore through the air.

Y/n whipped her head around, and her heart stopped. Cassian was on the ground, his wings shattered, bones protruding from his thigh, his siphons flickering weakly. The world tilted again, nausea rising in her throat as the scene unfolded before her.

“Stop!” Nesta screamed,  her voice raw with anguish as she rushed toward Cassian, her power exploding around her. But the King was faster. He stepped on Cassian;s wings, grinding his boot into them with cruel force. Bones cracked under the pressure, and Cassian’s scream was nothing short of agony.

Nesta’s power surged, but the King winnowed away, leaving her helpless. She crawled to Cassian, her hands trembling as she reached for his sword, even as he begged her to run. Tears streaked her face, but she ignored them, her focus entirely on protecting him.

She faced the King again, her grip on sword tight, but in a single motion, he disarmed her. His hand struck her across the face with such force that Nesta crumpled to the ground, her body trembling with the effort of trying to get up. She managed to strike him with her power, one blow after the other, but it wasn’t enough. Cassian was too heavy to lift, and the King was closing in.

Y/n watched, frozen, her body paralyzed with rage and fear. But as the King approached Nesta, who was covering Cassian’s body with her own, Y/n’s fury boiled over. Her vision tunneled as she grabbed the sword from the ground, her heart pounding with a singular, blinding rage. She strode toward him, her eyes blazing with hatred.

Before she could reach him, the King’s magic lashed out, flinging her across the ground. Her body slammed into the ground, pain radiating from every bone. She struggled to rise, but the King was already there, picking up the sword and driving it deep into her gut.

The pain was immediate, white-hot and all-consuming. Blood splattered from her mouth, and heer vision blurred as she crumpled forward, her hands clutching her stomach in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. Her body trembled violently as life slowly drained from her.

Nesta watched, helpless as her own power drained out. 

Slowly, with trembling hands, Y/n reached for Truth-Teller, pulling it from her waist. Her breath was ragged, her hands shaking as the King leaned down, driving the sword deeper into her body. She managed to strike him with the dagger, the blade sinking into his thigh.

The King groaned in pain, staggering back for a moment. Blood oozed from the wound, darkening his already blackened armor. He yanked the blade free with a growl, tossing it aside as if it were an annoyance rather than a mortal threat. His eyes, filled with cruel amusement, locked on hers.

“You are troublesome” he hissed, his voice like poison. A dark smirk curled his lips. “Bring him here” he ordered his beast, pointing to her biological father. The creature complied, dragging the man closer with brutal efficiency.

“Now” the King sneered, “you’re going to watch as I order your father’s execution, right before your eyes.” He laughed, a horrible sound that echoed in her ears, sending chills down her spine.

Y/n’s heart raced, her mind filled with a flood of memories. Images from her past rushed in, the death of someone she loved, the helplessness she felt as she watched life slip away from them. She had buried those memories deep, hiding them from the light, but now they all came crashing back- unstoppable. No. This couldn’t be happening again. She had powers now. She could do something. If they would just…

“I love you” her father said softly, his voice breaking. Then- a horrible, wet sound tore through the air. Warm liquid splattered onto her face- his blood. 

“NO!” Y/n screamed, the sound ripping through her throat, raw and agonized. Her vision blurred as a single tear rolled down her cheek. The grief, the rage, the fear all melded into one. Her body trembled uncontrollably as something deep within her snapped.

A surge of power exploded from her, wild and untamed. The sky, once clear, darkened in an instant. Thunder rumbled ominously, and the air crackled with electricity. Lightning split the sky, striking the beast that held her father, killing it in a blinding flash of light

Another bolt hit the King, knocking him back and causing the ground to tremble. The storm was hers, born from the depth of her anguish.

The battlefield erupted in chaos as the thunderstorm raged. Bolts of lightning struck indiscriminately, the sheer force of it tearing apart the ground. Soldiers screamed, both friend and foe, as the storm ripped through them. And yet, even with all this power, it was too late.

Y/n’s breath came in short, ragged bursts as she realized it. Too late. Tears mixed with the blood on her face, and her chest heaved, her body trembling from the overwhelming torrent of emotions that coursed through her. She had all this power, and still, she had been helpless. She couldn;t save her father- either of them.

The Cauldron, not far away, cracked under the weight of her power, but she didn;t care. She couldn’t feel triumph, couldn’t feel anything but the hollow ache of loss. She let it all go- all the emotions she had bottled up for so long: the rage, the pain, the fear, the hatred. She let it flood out of her, her magic draining from her until she was barely conscious, her vision fading in and out.

As the storm died down, the King, now recovered, approached her. His twisted grin returned, though his steps were slower, his body weakened from the damage. He crouched down, lifting her chin with one finger. “Beautiful” he said, his voice low and vile. His eyes glittered with twisted admiration. “I might yet have a use for you.”

Before he could say more, a strangled, choking sound erupted from him. His body jerked violently, and his grip on Y/n faltered. Elain stood behind him, her face pale but her eyes burning with fierce determination. She had taken up Azriel’s blade and shoved it into the back of the King’s neck with unflinching precision.

“Don’t touch my sister” Elain said, her voice trembling with anger, but steady in its resolve.

The King collapsed to his knees, his hand flailing as he tried to reach the knife embedded in his neck. His eyes widened in shock, blood gurgling from his mouth. Y/n, struggling to get to her feet, pushed herself up with whatever strength she had left. Pain shot through her body with every movement, but she didn’t stop.

She staggered toward the King, blood dripping from her wounds, her body screaming in agony. Herhand shook violently as she gripped the handle of the blade, twisting it slowly, deliberately further into his throat. She leaned close, her face pale and emotionless, watching as he struggled under her touch. 

“I promised I’d be the one to kill you” she whispered, her voice cold, devoid of emotion. “And I keep my promises.”

With one final, brutal motion, she severed his head from his body. His lifeless form crumpled to the ground, and Y/n let the blade fall from her hand. She stood there for a moment, staring down at the body, but feeling…nothing. The world seemed muted, as if it had faded into the background. There was no satisfaction in his death, no sense of triumph. Only the hollow emptiness of loss.

She never would have imagined that she’d lose not one, but two fathers on the same day. That she’d witness their horrible, violent deaths with her own eyes, helpless to save either of them. A numbness crept through her, settling deep into her bones. She had failed them, failed to protect the people she loved the most. Self-hatred gnawed at her, vicious and unforgiving.

With the last of her strength, Y/n crawled to her biological father’s body. His blood soaked the grass, watering the earth beneath him. She rested her head on his arm, her cheek brushing against his cooling skin. Her body shook with exhaustion, her eyelids heavy. Her face had gone pale, her lips a soft shade of blue, and her body felt cold- so cold.

As her vision began to fade, Y/n closed her eyes, her mind sinking into the darkness. She was a failure and all she wanted was to escape the pain, to join them- her fathers- in whatever peace awaited beyond this world. She exhaled one last breath, her body stilling as the coldness consumed her.

Tags: : @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious  @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho  @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson @rcarbo1 @weasleymagic @secretsicanthideanymore @spymaster03

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

my friend kicks ass in her sleep (quite literally I have woken with bruises and a foot up my arse) and it’s got me thinking...like the cod men are just so unsuspecting, happily dozing next to their s/o and suddenly they just get absolutely obliterated in the balls..

Lol I am TOTALLY like this in my sleep 😭

141+ König With A Reader Who Beats Them Up In Their Sleep

Warnings: mentions of injury/pain, swearing

Simon Ghost Riley-

It was in the wee hours of the morning, and you were feeling incredibly restless. You'd gotten little to no sleep the last few nights and kept waking up extremely hot.

You tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable spot. You peered over at your husband, Simon, who was fast asleep. It was a rare occurrence for you to be awake when he wasn't, so you took the opportunity to watch him for a while. Eventually, sleep finally overcame you once again.

Next to you, Simon was dreaming peacefully. He was dreaming about your future and the small family he'd hoped you'd eventually have. He shifted slightly in his sleep, rolling just a little too close to you. You rolled over quickly, still unconscious, your hand flying out, smacking Simon square in the face.

Simon's eyes flew open as he jolted upright, trying to take in his surroundings. What the hell was that? He heard a snore come from beside him and turned to see your face squished against your pillow, your hand outstretched to where his face was just moments ago.

He rubbed his cheek with a soft chuckle, admiring your sleeping form. He smiled to himself before moving back down to lay beside you. He gently pushed you on your side and pulled you into him as he held your arms firmly in front of you. He'd rather not be slapped awake again, and he wouldn't lie, that slap stung a little.

If you could slap like that, with such force, maybe he didn't have to worry about you being home alone after all.

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

You were a horribly violent sleeper. This much was true. Johnny had threatened about a half dozen times that he'd wrap you in bubble wrap before letting you lay next to him again (he never did).

The two of you often slept at opposite ends of the bed, mostly to protect Johnny from your unconscious wrath, but always had a small cuddle session before falling asleep.

Unfortunately for Johnny, the two of you had fallen asleep while cuddling tonight. He had your face tucked in his chest, his arms lazily wrapped around your torso. You started to shift slightly in your sleep, triggering Johnny's eyes to shoot open. He was never a notoriously light sleeper, not until you. He went to move out of the way, but he was just a few seconds too late. You bunched your legs up and stretched them out, kicking him in the balls, hard.

"STEAMIN JESUS!" He croaked, his vision turning white from the pain.

Your eyes opened from the commotion, turning to see your boyfriend's face scrunched up in pain, as he was clutching at his crotch. "Johnny?"

"Y....yep. I'm here." He wheezed, his face still contorted.

You bit your lip to prevent a giggle and moved toward Johnny slowly. "I'm so sorry, babe. I couldn't help it."

"Sssure. Yep." He was still barely able to get words out. "Think you destroyed my balls, love."

From that night on, Johnny always made it a point to set an alarm when the two of you were cuddling, making sure he never had this issue again.

Somehow, throughout the night, you had ended up sideways in bed, your feet hovering around your boyfriend's ass. You rolled over in the bed, restless, stretching out your legs rather aggressively, and ended up shoving your foot in John's ass.

John Price-

You and John had a terribly long day, as you both had priorities that dragged on long into the night. The moment the two of you got in home, you collapsed into bed together.

John awoke immediately, nearly howling in pain, his ass hurting like no other. He turned over to see you sprawled out, still out cold. He sat for a moment looking at you. You'd covered nearly every inch of the bed and were splayed out like a star fish, mouth wide open as soft snores emitted from you.

He chuckled to himself before sliding out of bed, massaging the sore spot on his ass. He grabbed some of the pillows, creating a small row of them as he turned your body to face the right way. As he did so, your legs thrashed yet again, nearly kicking him in the balls.

"Yep, fuck this." He laughed quietly, shaking his head at your antics. He still wanted to sleep near you, however, so he grabbed a pillow and blanket and curled up on the floor next to your side of the bed.

Needless to say, it was more than just his ass that hurt the next morning.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

Whenever Kyle had spent the night at your house, you'd always fallen asleep together with you as the big spoon. There were times when you'd grow restless throughout the night, and Kyle would be subjected to various forms of abuse from your unconscious state. Tonight was, unfortunately, one of those nights.

During the night, your feet had come to lay on Kyle's back, resting there softly. You'd started to grow restless in your sleep, tossing and turning moving your legs rapidly. Your legs had done a bicycle kick, straight into Kyle's back, sending him flying off the side of the bed.

He awoke with a yelp as he landed on the floor hard. It took him a moment to realize what had happened, as he took in your now fully strung out form on your queen sized bed.

He laid back on the floor and busted out laughing, causing you to jolt awake. "Ky?"

"You literally kicked me out of bed, babe." He said as he caught his breath.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry. I can sleep on the couch, it's fine." You moved to get up but Kyle quickly jumped on top of you.

"Gosh no, babe. I'm not gonna make you do that. We can sleep just like this." He chuckled, spreading his weight evenly on top of you.

You let out a breathy laugh before falling asleep nearly instantly. That night, Kyle found a solution to your little problem, and spent every night since then sleeping on top of you.

König-

It was late into the night when you and your boyfriend König had finally fallen asleep. The two of you had cuddled together long into the night, talking about anything and everything. His arms were tight around your midsection as you slept peacefully on top of him, your head resting on his chest.

You were having a dream about your neighbors huge dog chasing you when you felt into a small pothole in the road. Your body reacted along with the dream, and your knees bunched up quickly, coming to rest on Königs balls rather harshly.

König shot up and yowled in pain, causing you to fly off the side of the bed. "Scheisse!"

His hands flew to cup his balls as he started to whimper. You, now being wide awake from being thrown on the floor, rubbed the sleepiness from your eyes and took in your surroundings.

"Kö?" You asked, peeking your head up over the side of the bed. König let out a whimper in response, still clutching onto his manhood desperately trying to rid himself if the pain.

"Oh, oh gosh, did I do that? I'm so sorry, baby." You jumped up and touched his shoulder softly.

König took a deep breath before mustering the best smile he could for you. "'S okay, Maus. It's not your fault, sweetheart." He croaked. He couldn't be mad at you. You couldn't control what you did in your sleep. That wasn't to say this didn't hurt like hell, though.

He slowly pressed a kiss to your forehead before laying back down onto the bed, a cry escaping his lips.

That night, König had built a pillow wall big enough for you to not be able to reach him over. He lovingly promised he'd cuddle with you in the morning but insisted that for tonight, he needed to "Beschütze seine Eier" (protect his balls).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm trying to post at least one or two requests a day. Thanks for bearing with me🙂🩷

[itsjustrosee]

Let me take care of you Void Stiles x fem!reader

Context: Stiles and reader are in an established relationship, however reader doesn't know that Stiles got possessed by the nogistun (sorry I don't know how to spell it) and is now void.

Wordcount: 1.1k

Warnings: Smut, cursing, and a lil bit of somnophilia (everything is consensual tho dw👍)

this one is prolly my freakiest one yet. so I hope yall enjoy

Stiles layed next to you, his arm wrapped around your shoulder you slept soundly, your side pressed next to his. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed circles into the soft cotton material of the shirt he had lent you last night.

His bed covers were sprawled haphazardly over the bed, barely covering you, leaving your legs completely bare and exposed to him. The only other piece of clothing you had on other than his shirt were your panties.

Stiles couldn't help but take in your peaceful appearance, the soft noises you made as you slept, and how cute you looked next to him. He slowly swiped a loose piece of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear as he admired your features.

His hand eventually made its way down to your thigh, his fingers barely ghosting the surface as he caressed your soft skin. He didn't want to risk the possibility of waking you up, but the urge, the need to touch you was too powerful. The desire to feel you took over his mind, clouding his better judgment as his fingers made their way to your inner thigh.

He watched your face, making sure to not wake you as his fingers continued to trace into your skin, his touch getting dangerously close to your panties. He tried his hardest to not wake you up as he slowly opened your thighs for better access.

Eventually, he made his way to your core and he began rubbing you over your panties. His touch was gentle and soft enough to where he didn't wake you up, yet your body still subconsciously reacted to him.

You couldn't help but let out a small hum, the action making Stiles turn his head back to face you. You were still asleep but now your eyebrows furrowed slightly and your lips were parted. Seeing the slight pleasure on your face despite still being asleep ignited more hunger within Stiles.

The pressure of his middle and ring finger slowly increased against you, causing your arousal to grow. Stiles kept his other arm still slung around your shoulder, making sure that you were as close to him as possible as you gasped out occasionally.

Stiles could no longer resist the urge to feel your skin on him, he craved you and so that meant he was going to have you.

He slowly slid his fingers under the soft and thin material of your panties, putting slight pleasure on your clit, the pleasure of it making your eyes flutter open.

"S-Stiles..." You breathe out, your heart rate already beginning to quicken.

"Shh baby... just relax," He cooed, leaning his head to your ear, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he spoke. His words were soothing and tender, creating a stark contrast between his desire and lust-filled strokes on your core.

He ran his long slender fingers through your folds, allowing a soft moan to escape your mouth as pleasure consumed you. He felt as you arched your back, your need for more friction only causing Stiles to increase his pressure on you.

As he continued rubbing circles into your wetness, he removed his hand from off your shoulder but kept it wrapped around your back as he moved it down your side. Once he found the hem of your shirt, he slid his hand under it, his fingers snaking up your bare skin and to your breast.

He cupped his hand over it, squeezing it gently as he suddenly slid a finger inside of you. You let out a gasp that quickly turns into a moan before you throw your head back, Stiles took this opportunity to latch his mouth onto the crook of your neck.

He bit down on you before sucking and biting the skin, the quick feeling of pain turning into pleasure that soon gets doubled as he shoves two of his fingers inside you.

Stiles sent all of your senses into overdrive as he thrust his fingers in and out of you, curling at just the right part inside of you to make you moan out in ecstasy. He put his thumb on your clit and slowly messaged it as he quickened his pace and began kissing his way up your neck, making his way up to your ear.

"You're doing so good, princess," He whispered into your ear as he continued to grope the soft, warm flesh of your breast.

You feel heat stirring in your stomach that threatens to pool over as he continues to push his fingers in and out of you, his speed increasing at a rate that has you writhing beneath him.

He moves his hand from under your shirt to your face, taking your chin in his fingers as he tilts your head to capture your lips in a desperate kiss. He kisses you with a hunger and desire that you've never felt from anyone else.

You part your lips for him, allowing his tongue to plunge into your mouth and taste every bit of you. The kiss is sloppy yet filled with passion as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, adding more pressure to your clit with his thumb, making you moan into his mouth.

You finally pull away, catching your breath as his actions draw out soft moans and whimpers from your mouth.

"Stiles I-I'm close," You can barely whimper out as stars flood your vision.

"Cum for me baby," He said breathlessly, his pace relentless as he drives deeper into you.

With one final thrust, your walls tighten around his fingers as you finally let out your release. Waves of ecstasy come crashing over you, Stiles' pace slowly inside of you as he helps you ride out your high. The pleasure is overwhelming as you lie next to him, your chest rising up and down as you try to catch your breath.

Stiles plants one last kiss on your lips before he pulls his fingers away from your throbbing entrance. Bringing them up to his mouth, he parts his lips and sucks them clean, tasting your juices with a satisfied hum.

"Fuck, you taste so good," He mutters under his breath before he pulls your panties back on and tugs you closer to him. "You're always so good for me, aren't you?"

You let out a weak hum in agreement as you melt into him once more, completely surrendering yourself to him. His strong arms wrap around you tightly, and his lips brush against the skin of your forehead as he kisses there once more.

"That's it, baby, just relax," Stiles says, his voice low and husky, looking at you with darkened eyes. "I'll take care of you,"

[superhaught]

Incurable Cravings (Chapter Four)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: none really, just angsty

Word Count: 2200, Part 4/?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Continuation of Incurable Cravings series!

Little author's note: I made a small edit to Chapter 2 to fix a plot hole that I created for myself. Regina and Leighton have been living in separate homes for five years as opposed to the original ten.

Regina and reader begin to navigate their first day at school in light of their newfound relationship. Reader learns more about the history between Janis, Regina and Leighton.

Regina’s family was complex. 

You knew that Ms. George used to be married to Regina’s father. Together, they had twin daughters, Regina and Leighton. You were all around 13 years old when they divorced. The resulting custody arrangement was unusual. Ms. George kept Regina and the house, while Leighton went with their dad and moved to the east coast. You vaguely knew that the father, Henry, got remarried to his college sweetheart, who had an older son from her previous marriage. Ms. George kept her maiden name and changed Regina’s last name to match, and has since also remarried and had Regina’s half-sister, Kylie. Regina’s stepdad, from what you knew, was a high-ranking military official. He didn’t see combat, but he was almost never home. All of them seemed to prefer it that way. 

Regina and her stepdad famously did not get along well, so his frequent absence was appreciated by her. And Ms. George enjoyed being able to maintain her independence. She often referred to herself as a single mom, even though she, objectively, was married.

You hadn’t seen Leighton since she moved away, and based on what Regina had said, she had rarely seen her twin either. You were positive that the distance must be hard on them both. Regina and Leighton had always been each other's' best friend when you were younger. They were practically joined at the hip. You remember that when Leighton moved away, Regina didn’t come to school for almost two weeks and she wouldn’t see anyone.

The divorce, and your small friend group falling apart, all happened within the span of a year. And now, as Regina slept peacefully in your arms, you wondered just how much pain she had been carrying.

It broke your heart. 

In spite of your racing thoughts, you eventually gave in to sleep yourself and were able to get a few hours shuteye before Regina’s alarm was going off and waking you for school. Regina groaned and snoozed the alarm once before turning over and curling up against your chest.

You giggled at how cute she was being and took to kissing her head and playing with her hair for those ten extra minutes. You felt her press a few soft kisses onto your neck and then the alarm went off again.

You reached over her and turned the alarm off and then rubbed your palm over her upper arm. 

The blonde smiled and whispered, “good morning…”

“Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling this morning?”

Regina yawned and stretched her arms out a little before responding, “better than I’ve felt in a while.”

“Good.”

She met your eyes, “am I remembering last night correctly?”

“What do you remember?”

She hesitated for a moment, examining your expression, maybe considering dropping it, “I remember you saying that you love me…”

You nodded your head, “I did, Gina,” you tucked some hair behind her ear, “I said ‘I love you.’”

She nodded back and bit down on her bottom lip. You could see the anxiety mounting in her through her tensing muscles and rapid eye movements.

“I…” she began.

“Shhh…” you leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss. 

She melted at the contact and let her hand travel over your shoulder and up the back of your neck to hold you close. Regina held you in that kiss for a long while and then just silently nodded again as she pulled away.

“Thank you…” she whispered. 

And thus, only a fraction of your conversation actually  took place out loud. You never really imagined having a bond like that with someone, not after the years you had lost of growing with Regina and Janis as your closest friends. But right here, in this moment, Regina knew without a shadow of a doubt that you had meant what you said. And you knew that she felt the same way about you in return. 

You both took a minute more to play with each other’s fingers as you held hands in the bed. 

The blonde kissed your hand and whispered, “I wish we had time to enjoy more of each other instead of going to school…” 

“I do too, trust me.” 

“I just want this gorgeous body of yours all to myself, all the time…” 

You smirked, “you are such a temptress… but don’t worry, Gina. I’m all yours.” You kissed her cheek and then her lips again, obliging her when she grazed your lip with her tongue to deepen the kiss. You shared a few more kisses like this before Regina finally forced herself to sit up. 

She looked sore and stiff in her movements. You reached out to gently touch her back after she sat up and you asked, “do you want help getting up?” 

“No, no… I’ll be okay. Thank you baby.” 

You got ready for the day together. Regina happily let you borrow some of her clothes that she reserved for wearing only around the house. No one would likely be able to tell that they were hers, not that it mattered to you. 

Ms. George had fixed you both a quick breakfast and offered you free reign of the pantry to make yourself a lunch. 

Regina, with a little bit of encouragement from you, managed to eat a cup of yogurt with granola. 

“I’m gonna go start the car, you coming?” Regina asked you when she finished eating. 

“Yeah, go ahead, I’ll be right out.” 

Regina nodded and left through the front door of her house. You heard the engine of her Jeep start and you turned to Ms. George, who was scrolling Facebook on her phone while eating her own bowl of yogurt. 

“Ms. George?” 

She looked up at you, “what’s up, sugar?” 

“Do you have Leighton’s phone number?” 

Regina held your hand the whole car ride to school and walked inside with you, only dropping your hand once you were in the presence of others. 

Regina saw Gretchen and Karen waiting for her at her locker so she turned to you and gave you a sweet goodbye with a quick, stolen kiss to your cheek before she split off from you and resumed her normal. 

You realized that the two of you hadn’t discussed this part. You didn’t know how long it would be this secret between the two of you, but you hoped not long. 

But you were greeted with your own smack in the face from reality when you walked up to your locker. Janis stood there, waiting for you. 

You took a deep breath, “hey.” 

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, “hey. I want to try this again.” 

She stepped out of your way as you opened up your locker and she continued when you didn’t really say anything in response, “yesterday, I know I approached you about Regina in the wrong way, and I’m sorry.” 

You grabbed one of your textbooks, “thank you. I forgive you.” 

“But… I’d really like to talk to you about this. I saw you leave that storage closet with her. And I saw you go home with her after school yesterday. And, oh my god, you’re wearing her sweatshirt.” 

Shit. Of course Janis would recognize it.

“And? What exactly do you want to know?” 

“I… well, like what are you guys doing together? Are you hanging out again?” 

“I guess we are… yeah. We’re hanging out.” 

“Why?! Why would you do that?” 

“Janis…” your voice betrayed your sadness and frustration. 

“No seriously, come on! You’re one of the only people who knows the truth about what Regina has put me through! I thought you would be on my side!” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose and inhaled, “Janis, it’s more complicated than sides… and, and I don’t know that I do know the truth!” 

“What do you mean? You were at that party! You were there!” 

“I mean, why does Regina think that something happened between you and Leighton?” 

Janis’ jaw dropped, “what?” 

“What happened between you and Leighton?” 

“What did Regina say?” 

“She didn’t say anything specific, only that you hurt Leighton somehow.” 

“I…” Janis clenched her hands into fists, “that has nothing to do with me and Regina! I don’t even… you knew how I felt about Regina… you don’t really think I deserved what she did, do you?” 

“Janis, no. I don’t think you deserved it. I don’t think any of us deserved anything that happened, Regina included. I think we were kids with a lot of complicated feelings.”

Janis stared at you incredulously. 

“Didn’t you guys make up at the dance last year?” 

“No. We didn’t. She was high on pain medication. She didn’t forgive me and I didn’t forgive her.” 

You sighed, “Look, right now, I know that Regina wants me around and I’m okay with putting things behind me so that I can be there for her. But you don’t have to do that. Just don’t get mad at me for trying.”

She stared at you again. 

You closed your locker door, “you weren’t the only one of us who was in love with her, Janis. You weren’t the only one who lost her, okay?” 

You walked away from Janis for the second time, once again, unsure whether you were making the right choices in navigating this whole thing. You couldn’t exactly tell Janis the whole truth about your relationship, not without consulting Regina about it first. But you knew it wasn’t fair to leave Janis completely in the dark either. 

You sat through your math class unable to pay attention to a single word out of Mrs. Norbury’s mouth because you were so caught up in how complicated this all was. 

On your way out, Mrs. Norbury called you up to her desk and you obliged. 

“Hey, you doing okay?” 

You nodded, “yeah, I’m just having a weird week. I’m sorry for spacing out.” 

She gave you a half smile, “look, I know your grades are going to be fine, that’s not what I’m worried about. I just want to make sure you’re alright.” 

“It’s just friend stuff.” 

“Alright, well, just remember that graduation is right around the corner. You need to make sure that you’re thinking about what you want.” She smiled at you as if what she said wasn’t annoyingly vague. 

“Have you told anyone else about your acceptance letter yet?” She continued. 

“No… still only you and my parents know. I’m not ready to tell anyone else yet.” 

“It’s been a few months now, you’ll have to start telling people eventually.” 

“I know… I just…” 

Mrs. Norbury waited patiently for you to finish. 

“It hasn’t really sunk in for me yet.” 

She raised an eyebrow. You knew she was suspicious of your answer but she let it go, “okay. Well, if you need anything, just let me know.” 

You nodded and left her classroom. Your heart was pounding. 

Until yesterday, there was no one that you were overly concerned to talk to about your college acceptance. But now… you’d have to find a way to tell Regina that in just a few short months, you’d be moving to Boston for college. 

You hustled to your next class and pulled your phone out as you sat down in your seat. You quickly started a new message to the number that Ms. George gave you. 

When you left that class, you checked your phone first thing and you had a text back. 

“Is Regina okay?”

You typed your response as you walked, “Regina is okay, but there’s a lot going on right now and I could use your help. I’m sorry to text you out of the blue like this. Your mom gave me your number.”

“So, you and Regina are friends again?”

“Yes.”

“Janis, too?”

“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about… what happened? If you don't mind me asking…”

It took a minute for Leighton to respond. You watched the little bubble that indicated she was typing until her message back finally came through. 

Leighton wrote, “honestly? Looking back, it’s stupid and I’m p sure Regina overreacted.”

Leighton tells you that when you were all kids, Janis confided in her that she had a crush on Regina. Janis begged Leighton not to tell Regina, and Leighton agreed, not seeing any reason to hurt Janis and ruin the friendship between the girls. But sometime later, Regina came to know the truth and talked to Janis and turned her down kindly. Janis was still mortified, but beyond that, she was pissed. Janis assumed that Leighton told Regina and wanted to get back at her for it. Janis knew that Leighton had a big class presentation coming up and she came to school wearing a beautifully pressed, matching white suit jacket and skirt. Janis loaded up her lunch tray with everything that the cafeteria had to offer that would stain and then “bumped” right into Leighton, dumping her entire tray onto Leighton. 

It was petty. It was stupid. It was misinformed. But it made Leighton cry in the bathroom, and that was something Regina couldn’t abide. Regina planned her revenge, and that’s how the spin-the-bottle party happened. Janis embarrassed Leighton, so Regina embarrassed Janis with the best ammo she had in her arsenal.

Next Chapter

[waynewifey]

aftermath — b.w

part one - ‘dear mr. wayne’

part two - ‘aftermath’

part three. - ‘aporia’

summary: you escaped that warehouse, but part of you died in there. now, your husband helps you grief your own loss while trying to not murder your relationship.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: drama & angst romance

warnings: mentions of sex and alcohol; mentions of ptsd, anxiety and it’s symptoms; hospital setting; dubious science; dubious law enforcement

word count: 2.9k

A/N: thank you for all the positive feedback on part 1! there will be a part three because this post would get too long, so let me know if you’ll like to be tagged in that. my biggest challenge writing this was trying to give bruce the start of a redemption arc, please tell me if you think it worked. comments and constructive criticism is appreciated!

gotham, USA.

the continuous beeping sound wakes you up.

your eyes are still closed, blocking the intense light over your head. your senses are taken by the familiar scent: sandalwood, cinnamon and lemongrass soap. it almost feels like you're home.

but your feet are senseless from the cold and the bedsheets faintly smell like chlorine. there's a pinching ache in your arm and the scenario is complete. oh how you hate hospitals.

"how are you feeling?" back at home, bruce had learned the difference in your breathing as you woke up, which made pretending to sleep hard enough for you to give up. you open your eyes, finding yourself in a luxurious room. if it wasn't for the IV on your left side, it could easily be mistaken for a five star hotel.

bruce sat at a large light green armchair, about four feet from your left hand. you couldn't tell by his voice, but he looked exhausted. for once, he's wearing sweatpants. the puffy face and swollen eyes show he hasn't had much sleep. you, on the other hand, feel like you've slept for a thousand years.

"i have no idea. what's up with me?" his sigh has your heart racing and the fear of being a liability falls over you. a comforting hand lays on yours, his warms fingers grounding you to remember the last time you were awake. it felt like a nightmare and you desperately hoped it was. instead, the pain comes in flashes, the image of your husband being shot and the feeling of hitting ice cold water do too. it's all just so horrible you wish it wasn't real.

"they told me you were going to be fine, but i don't know." bruce feels as if a burden has come off his chest finally seeing you move. the last couple of days have been a torture of expectation and blame for him. "the doctor had you in an induced coma. you had a concussion on the river. your stomach was stitched up. he said..." he stops for a moment, this is obviously way too hard for him to go through again. bruce hasn't left the room ever since he was discharged. everyday, for two weeks, he kept overthinking the night before and the day during. if he had stayed up and talked about your relationship, you wouldn't be in that bed. if he looked for you in the morning, if he noticed your absence at work, if he hadn't put his phone on silent mode... there were a million of things that he could've done different so the most important person in his world wouldn't have gone through all of that. "he said the ptsd would worsen your recovery. this morning the nurses told me you were better, so i have to believe them. that's my only hope."

you need a moment to take in the words, finally deciding that you didn't want to discuss your health. there were way better people to pay attention to that in the building and it would only make you anxious. you can't help but stare at his eyes, your mind bringing up the image of your husband choking the man that kept you hostage.

"you almost killed him." the tone is of disapproval, bruce couldn't be any more confused. he frowns. bile arises from his stomach leaving a acid taste to his mouth.

"i would've, of course i would. y/n, you had no idea what i would do for you. i would fight the devil himself if it meant keeping you safe. that's why i do what i do. the batman, the politics, it's all for you. if i can make this world 1% better for you, for our children, to live on, it's worth it." his gulp is loud, adam's apple going up and down, showing how dry his throat was. the following words have his voice shaking, almost disappearing. "but fate keeps telling me that i'm not enough. no matter what i do, you keep getting hurt and i just-" bruce stares the floor. that's something he always did when saying harsh things, avoiding eye contact and not letting tears slip away. however, this time it doesn't work at all. he can hear his heart tearing up with every syllable, the physical pain striking his chest. he wants to beg you to forgive him, but there is a noble thing to do. his words are cut off by the creaking of the door and the doctor's footsteps. he's smiling, like this isn't hell. bruce shrinks into the couch, making himself ignorable.

"so... i have good news!" the blonde says, clipboard in hand. "we need to run some other tests and an x-ray, but you seem to be healing pretty well. we'll hold you in for a couple of days just to make sure there aren't any complications with your body and then you can go home. how are you feeling so far?"

you're surprised by the sudden change in the conversation and your brain needs a moment to think about something helpful. you do a body scan trying to identify any pain, but overall you feel good.

"hungry. like, starving." the doctor smiles, saying he'll get you a meal as soon as possible. he warns you that you may not be able to eat much just yet, something about your stomach shrinking. you nod, already feeling irritated by the recovery process. then he leaves and there's a loud silence until you get back on the previous topic.

"you just what?" you expect bruce to sit correctly again, but he doesn't. he looks so small in the shadows, so comfortable. you really don't want to talk about that anymore, but curiosity takes over. he doesn't respond immediately, so your heart pounds over the anxiety of hearing bad news. suddenly you feel so tired, you want him to take over all the decisions like he usually does. today, though, he seems open to suggestions, like his own ideas weren't suitable. how could you know someone so well but still have no idea what's on his mind?

"i think maybe you shouldn't be associated with me. any part of me." the world stops with your breathing. bruce wishes he could take it back. going over this conversation in his head made it seem easier to say out loud. you've been married for three years. you knew his ambitions for even longer. you chose this life and he has no right to take that from you. still, the ring on your finger weighs you down.

— DENIAL

you've learned to appreciate the winter winds. at the top of the wayne tower there were barely any, but tonight they caress your face with the gift of numbness. breathing in is both refreshing and painful. the scratched teacup warms your fingers, a small memoir from your childhood home, from times that won't ever come back. you used to be down there, frightened by dark alleys and gunshots. now you're on top of the world and nothing, not even that psychopath, can take that from you. you did relearn discomfort. ache. cold. it all made you appreciate life even more. in fact, the month that followed your hospital discharge was pure bliss. something about renewal, about rebirth.

bruce watched you from the living room, the wrinkled glass distorting your silhouette in the balcony. that was a good representation of how he currently saw you, slightly blurred and shaken. his cup would usually hold whiskey, neat, but it holds coffee instead. you keep saying you're fine and waking up screaming in the middle of the night. then he would hold you and you would be actually fine. so now he's staying awake through the night, sleeping three or four hours during the day while alfred takes care of you. of course they don't let you know, because you've denied every explicit help. as you get ready to sleep, bruce gets ready to stay in bed through the night, alone with his thoughts. part of him was scared to sleep. he was sleeping when you were taken, there's no way he would let that happen again.

it has been almost a year since he stopped patrolling the city. the news cover murders and robberies every day. alfred makes sure to come up with something for both bruce and you to do at those hours. he's taken a pause in promoting his candidacy, he couldn't handle the public eye for now. still, the marketing team insists that your kidnapping was good media, even though he never officially spoke on it. they publish notes about being away, about taking care of family. he can't see how that could be good in any way.

you open the glass doors, flashing your husband a sweet smile. you're in a red silk robe and your hair is still perfectly done. perfectionism was one of the side effects, as one may call it, of the trauma. you visited a psychiatrist about a month ago, since bruce insisted on it, and he marked all of the habits that made you happy as unhealthy. you never told bruce what was said in that appointment in hopes that he'll get over it. him treating you like a porcelain doll made you nauseous.

"ready for bed?" you ask, standing behind the couch and hugging his shoulders. you breathe in his scent, remembering the day you met. you were an executive in an overseas wayne enterprises headquarters that had just gotten transferred to gotham. they offered you six figures to take the second in command position, so you obviously got to know the first in command. in the beginning, you honestly thought he was an entitled brat that didn't work at all. overtime, you realised how much he cared about the company and how much he was pining over you. you gave him an opening and he asked you out. six months into the relationship, he told you about batman. he knew, somehow, that you would be forever.

he sets in bed while you're touching up in the bathroom. the night had to be perfect. you've hadn't made love ever since the fight and ovulation week had gotten you a little crazy. you check yourself in the mirror, thanking the hormones making you sexy. you crawl into his side, slower than needed, hair falling over the shoulder. "hi" you whisper, sitting diagonally from him and cuddling a bit. he says hi back, with a chuckle. you give him a little peck, which is all you've been doing for all of this time. he stays still, not pulling back but also not doing anything either. you try to take it as a good sign. your lips then reach his jawline and neck, leaving wet kisses all over his skin. your hands touch his shirt and go underneath it, tracing your fingers along his defined abdomen. a hand holds your arm, pushing you away. your smile fades and you frown your face to him.

"touch me, bruce" you not so much ask, it's more like a plead. he sighs, channelling all his will to stick with his decision. he puts a string of your hair behind your ear and you think he's going to properly kiss you.

"i don't think we should do this. you're not well enough yet." he doesn't sound so certain, but it hits you like a hard brick wall. this is harder for him than he lets it show, he's a man after all. even so, he can't see you like that for the moment. he sees you scattered and feels like it's his responsibility to assemble you again.

"i'm perfectly fine." you state like a grumpy proud child who's just lost a soccer tournament. he sees right through it.

"you're not, you're in denial." that simple word makes your mood swing: denial. it's the same thing the stupid psychiatrist told you. you can even hear his smoker's voice echoing in the office. it isn't true. you got over it, that's all. maybe some people take more time to do so, but you did just like that. you had a life to get back to.

you get off the bed and pull your robe tight again. "i'm sleeping in the guest room. good night." he doesn't follow and lets you be. in all honesty, he didn't know if he would have the strength to turn you down a second time.

bruce tries to fight the tiredness. even with caffeine running high in his blood system, he falls asleep for a while. the guest room is far enough that he doesn't hear the muffled sobbing. he wakes up not so long after with screaming. his heart races as he runs down the stairs, following the sound of your voice. his mind starts thinking the worst, but he finds you only having nightmares. he crawls in bed with you, without being kicked off. he lets you lay on his chest, one arm over your shoulder. his body warms yours up and you finally stop spasming. it doesn't take too long for both to fall asleep.

— ANGER

the penthouse is quiet. the winter is almost at it's end, so the pre-spring rays lighten the living room bringing warmness to your solitude. you sit uncomfortably, unknown to this feeling of absence. you don't feel him in the tower.

bruce said there was a non deniable meeting with his press team, because eventually he would have to go back to promoting his election, which would take place in the fall. you acted unbothered. yet, he's barely been gone for an hour and you can already feel the anxiety crippling. you only left the apartment for doctors appointment, still too scared to walk on the streets. and he was always there, too, holding your hand. so this is different.

alfred is downstairs upgrading the batman suit with a new technology he created. he invited you, but the darkness of the cave was definitely unrequited. that's how you end up lounging, in silence, staring at window. finally, you decide to try to watch something. you shouldn't really do that, because something could trigger a panic attack. but you're fine, you really are. enough with this nonsense.

shuffling through the channels, nothing gets your attention until there's a juridical show on. the judge is talking to the prosecutor, apparently, announcing the next witness to testify. the camera angle changes to the courtroom and expectant eyes turn to the wooden door. it opens slowly to reveal a knight in dark armour. you hold your breath. the jury buzzes and the room gets loud. heavy steps make his cape swing behind him, as he makes his way to the stand.

bruce had to make a tough decision. while you and him had been cleared from the trial, you with the psychiatrist report on PTSD and him with the marriage, the lawyers mentioned that the batman's testimony could be decisive for the accused to be found guilty by the jury. the public respected him. either they loved or feared him. so, even though he's never made such a public appearance, less even speaking, he had to go to that trial. he owed it to you. but you could never know. he didn't want to spark your interest in the case, you shouldn't have to go through it again. he lays his hand on the constitution and swears on it.

it doesn't feel real until you hear the judge.

"members of the jury, i present to you the batman."

it feels like a dagger has gone through your chest. there's a mix of feelings that have you almost throwing up. you feel like screaming and crying and blowing the fucking world up. how could he do that to you? that was your case, your life. you stand up only to find your legs trembling. you want to run there and testify. you want to tell the world the horrors you've been through and show them, including your husband, that you had overcome it. he was calling you weak right in you face and you couldn't bear the feeling of being chained up again. you're stuck in this hell of a tower like some futile damsel.

you stomp your way to the elevator, your mind set on leaving the building. but your heart stops you in your tracks pounding and almost vomiting itself out; you feel your toes numb and your legs can't stop shaking. the baritone voice still sounds in the apartment. you run to it and scream at the TV. you throw a pillow on it. that doesn't cool you down. your body is in motion while all you can see is red. you knock the coffee table down, shattering the glass and scattering like ashes the books that were on it on the floor. the noise still doesn't muffle his voice and you can't find the fucking remote control. you stumble across the room, throwing lamps and vases around. everything is falling down, in every sense. you grab a candle and let out a scream when you hit the TV with it, the screen going black and the noise finally ceasing.

alfred finds the room trashed, with you kneeling on the broken glass. there's blood on the floor. your body trembles with every sob. he cautiously steps towards you. you feel out of breath, tears burning your eyes. he holds you like a mother does.

"i'm sorry- i'm so sorry," he shakes his head, saying it doesn't matter. you wanna say it does, but there's simply nothing leaving your mouth apart from "i'm so sorry"

part three - aporia

[mannaima]

My Best Friend Joel (part three)

Sorry for making you all wait so long! I decided this is the second to last installment in the best friend series, the last one being much longer as it’s gonna cover a longer timeline. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it!!!!

(part 1) (part 2)

Summary: Joel decides to hide the fact you’re pregnant, until he can’t anymore.

Word count: 2.5K (yes short i know)

Warnings: NSFW (p in v), dub-con turned consensual, breeding, joel being a scumbag, pregnancy, babytrapping(????)(small) mentions of vomit, manipulation, happy endings tho.

Joel didn’t get much sleep that night. Not like he did anyways, but his thoughts tonight were clouded with ideas of what to do about this predicament. But one thought made him shiver with guilt.

He wanted to leave.

Joel felt immense guilt with the thought, sure, he knew he was far from a good man, but even that was a low for him. But his stomach swelled in pain at the thought of another child, he couldn’t even think of children ever since Sarah. But the act was already done, there was no denying that you would be pregnant, although there's a chance you might, he had to think of the worst here. He tossed and turned, trying not to wake you, but he clenched his eyes at every possible way of this working out. You were none the wiser, sleeping so soundly, as if your body wasn’t currently in the stage of making the new child you two shared. Joel sighed, and as the morning sun crept through the windows, he had only one thought on his mind.

He just wasn’t gonna tell you.

----------

You woke up, eyes adjusting to the room filled with light, and your best friend held you in his large arms. You noticed he was already awake, eyes half shut in tiredness, and he had bags under his eyes. You tilted your head.

“Good morning Joel!” You were excited, he only glanced at you, not even a usual smirk. “Are you okay? Did you get any sleep?” You were much quieter, fearing he wasn’t in a good mood.

“Morning, sugar, I slept fine.” Lie. “Just a little tired.” Lie. Lie. Lie.

“Oh, okay.” You snuggled closer to him, head resting against his warm body, he seemed to tense around you a little. Internally, you felt the awkwardness. You were hurt, but you kept quiet.

“Do you want me to make you breakfast?” You gave him a small smile, and he glanced at you before staring at the wall once more.

“That’d be nice.” Blunt answer, but a much better answer than ‘no’. You giggled and pushed the blankets back, sitting up and climbing over Joel, making sure not to accidentally crush his arms with your knees. You stood up, and immediately felt a feeling of something droop out of your pussy. Confused, you stood still, but then the memories of last night flooded back, which made you grin a little. You walked to the kitchen, unaware of how Joel stared at you, your pretty ass out on display, only a cute pair of panties covering your lower half. Aided with morning wood, Joel’s cock became incredibly hard, despite his brain shunning him for still feeling horny knowing he knocked you up.

“Do ya want french toast?” He looked at your face now, eyes moving up from your ass. You looked so pretty in nothing but a shirt. Joel nodded. You turned back around to fix the breakfast. 

Joel felt so conflicted, on one hand, it was bound to happen eventually, he was going to meet another woman, the right one this time. Though it was a new kid, it would never replace Sarah, and the child wasn’t meant to. On the other hand, he felt immense fear that something would happen to the child. This world was no place for youth, the child would never be normal growing up in a world like this, but what choice did he have? The baby was gonna come regardless, would he rather the child to a loving mother and father, or to a single mother out on the streets.

He had to deal with it.

He stood up, wearing nothing but boxers, making him shiver at the cold air. He walked over to you, and wrapped his hands around your body, his back hunched over so he could rest his head on your shoulder. His cock was pressed up against your back, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to feel your warm body.

“Oh Joel…” There was a hint of sadness in your voice, but he had no clue why. Despite his brain begging him to ask you what’s wrong, he just buried his face in your neck, giving you small kisses.

You felt his cock, it made your lower regions warm up, fluttering almost. You continued to make the batter and heat up the stove, Joel clinging to you tightly. His hardness not going down, you felt distracted, accidentally spilling a small amount of batter. You kept apologizing but Joel just rubbed your hips with his rough hands, you jumped at his cold hands against your cold skin as he reached under your shirt.

“You cold baby?” His hands rubbed around your stomach before slowly leading up to your breasts, where he squeezed them tightly. You whimpered and stuttered before nodding your head, to which he began pinching your nipples.

“I think I’m hungry for something else right now, sweetie.” Joel began to kiss your neck, his tongue licking up it slowly, you let out a soft moan, making him smirk upon your skin. 

“D-Do you wanna have… S-Sex?”

“I think I made it pretty clear I do.”

“R-Right. Sorry.” You felt stupid for asking, wondering if it made you look stupid to him. He either didn’t care or was too horny to care, because he kept rubbing his cock against your back while kissing your neck, the breakfast long forgotten at this point. You arched your back at his touch, feeling so sensitive from the night before, your pussy fluttering at his hands. He finally removed his hands from your chest and brought them down to your lower half, his fingers poking under the fabric in order to pull them down, and he slowly brought them down. You felt the cold air, but he didn’t wait much longer before wrapping an arm around your body while also pushing your front half against the counter, making you bend over for him. You gasped at the sudden movement, but it was short-lived as his cock was now rubbing against your entrance.

“W-wait Joel-” A loud moan escaped your lips as his cock was now pushing through, your only source of lube was his cum from the night before and the small amount of wetness you had. You weren’t at all prepared for him, but he didn’t care and kept pushing.

“J-Joel. Hurts-” He kept pushing, making you groan out in pain, his hand coming up to your lips.

“Shhhh.” No words of reassurance, just shushing you to make you stop whimpering in pain. You couldn’t help it though, your walls were being stretched to their limit by his fat cock, and he wasn’t even inside you all the way yet. You kept trying to squirm out of his hold, but his grip on you was too strong, and he finally pushed you against his body, his entire cock inside you now. You groaned out, loudly, making him pull his cock back, and slam into you once more. The kindness he showed you last night was no more, as he continued to mercilessly ram inside you. You felt your face heat up as your lower half experienced immense pain, you didn’t know what to do. He just felt so much bigger than before, maybe you were doing something wrong? It hurt the first time too, but he stopped a while for you to get used to it, but he just kept abusing your hole.

“Joel please.” You pleaded for him to slow down, and he did, for a second. He slipped his cock out of you and turned you around, now facing him. Your back was pushed against the counter as he lifted you there, bottom half hanging off. You got a few seconds of relief before his cock was pushed back into you, head leaning back as you whimpered. His hands held on to your hips as he fucked you again and again. Joel forced your legs to wrap around his waist, effectively allowing him to thrust into you better. You felt the pain slowly go away, but far too slow for your liking. Joel’s groans mixed with your moans of pain and slight pleasure, his hands rubbing against your warm skin, eyes fixated on your body.

You got a good look at him in the sunlight peeking through the curtains, now able to see his body. Peppered hair covered his chest, not too much hair though. His body was definitely toned, especially for his age, and his chest glistened with small amounts of sweat. His face stared down at you with an incredible amount of enamoration, eyes boring into yours, his mouth parted slightly to let out breaths. You looked down his body to see the way his cock disappeared into your cunt, it was arousing to say the least. The mess of hair that covered right above his cock and the way his happy trail led down from his belly button. You couldn’t get enough of his body, and it seems he felt the same about you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, angel.” He said, deep voiced slightly strained as he continued to fuck you.

“You too J-” You were cut off by the movement of his hands around your ankles. He lifted your legs up and positioned them on his shoulders, allowing him much deeper access in your pussy. Your breathy moans pushed him over the edge, he couldn’t get enough of the way your bare breasts bounced around, or the look you gave with your eyebrows arched in pleasure, lips wet with saliva as you gave into the pleasure. He couldn’t handle it anymore, his head reeling back as he gave a few more sloppy thrusts and groaned, cumming inside of you. You felt the warm cum seep inside you, Joel letting out small ‘fuck’s and ‘goddamn’s. After about twenty seconds of pure bliss on Joel’s end, he finally pulled out of you, cock soft now, and a large clump of his cum dripping out of you. Joel quickly plunged his middle and ring finger inside you, pushing the cum back inside you. He fingered you, his hand pushing the hair away from your forehead and kissing it, making you smile through the pleasure of his fingers. He smiled back.

----------

You had stayed with Joel, your relationship was never really defined, but it was safe to say you two were a couple. Joel would obviously leave to go to work, which is something you were accustomed to. But Joel left you the privilege of leaving the apartment whenever you wanted, but you preferred when Joel was by your side. You spent the days watching the people, reading books, and even drawing pictures while Joel was away.

When Joel came back, you both liked to do “adult stuff.”

He fucked you every day after work or before you both slept. He couldn’t get enough of you, every time he saw you, he had this uncontrollable urge to just fuck the shit out of you.

And every single time, he came inside you.

He felt guilty, of course, but not guilty enough to tell you what happens when a man cums inside a woman. No, he figured he could delay it until there were physical changes, he liked you this way. It was sick of him, he knew he was a bastard for what he was doing, but he liked seeing your fucked out face while cum drooled out of your pussy. He liked you not knowing that you were going to be carrying his babies, of course he’d tell you when you’d eventually noticed the weight gain, lack of period, and giant stomach. But Joel wanted to see how long you could stay oblivious.

----------

“Joel, do I look… Fatter to you?” There you stood, in front of the mirror, wearing nothing but a pair of panties. You had turned to the side and were staring at your stomach.

“What do ya’ mean?” Joel knew exactly what you meant.

“I just look… More round. Just my stomach though.” You felt around your stomach, squeezing it a little.

“But it’s not soft like fat. It’s kind of hard?” You knocked on it jokingly, giggling slightly.

“I don’t see a difference, baby.” It was easy for him to lie, he avoided your eye contact though. 

“Oh well, I’m probably just seeing things.” You went on your tippy toes and puckered out your lips, signaling him to kiss you, which he did.

He watched you walk into the kitchen, still topless, and pull out some rations. He couldn’t help but notice how big your breasts have gotten, wondering how you didn’t notice. He wanted to suck on them, hoping milk would come out already. Fantasizing about your body, you quickly snapped him out of his little world as he noticed you running to the sink.

“Oh fuck-” You had little time before you started vomiting in the sink, coughing in between gags. Fuck. Joel’s mind raced, this was getting too far, he had to tell you. You let out the contents in your stomach while Joel just watched, but his dumb brain finally realized he should be helping you. Scrambling to run to you, he held your hair back as you continued. He reassured you that you were fine, that it was just some morning sickness. As you finally felt better and washed your mouth and the sink, Joel felt a small amount of guilt now that he saw your sick face. Fuck. He had to tell you now.

“Darling there's something we need to talk about. Come with me.” He led you to the bedroom and sat you next to him, hand gripping yours tightly.

“What is it Joel?” He sighed, and rubbed your hand with his fingers.

“Well. The reason your stomach is a bit bigger, and why you have some sickness is because. You’re pregnant. You’re gonna be a momma.” You stared at him, confusion plastered on your face, head slightly tilted.

“How?” Joel sighed again, now realizing you were gonna be upset with him.

“When we have sex. When a man cums inside a woman, the white stuff that comes out of me, it makes a baby when it mixes with your parts.” Your eyes widened a bit. You touched your stomach.

“So… You were making babies with me?” Joel nodded, half expecting you to hit or scream at him. But you just kept touching your small baby bump.

“So you mean. I’m gonna be a mommy? And, are you the daddy?” There was a small glimmer in your eyes as you started to grow a smile.

“Yes baby.” Joel gave you a small smile before being pushed down by you, face smushed up against his own. You kept giving him sloppy kisses, laughing in between smooches. Joel didn’t know you’d be this happy, he thought you’d be upset with unknowingly getting pregnant, but he let that thought linger as he kept his hands on your hips, kissing you back with a breathy laugh.

You two were going to be parents. 

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[amuseintime]

Shattering Realization (Pt 4/4)

Star Souls AU

Not the end of the AU, buuuut of this section of it :3c

Sif’s awake! This means everything is back to normal… right? Right? Of course, Odile doesn’t intend to just let it go that easily. Some things are answered, others are not.

Odile POV

<< PREV || FIRST

——————

Odile slept surprisingly well considering Boniface almost gave them a collective heart attack the evening before. The troublesome preteen apparently decided to sneak into Isabeau’s tent and snuggle up with Siffrin in such a way they could barely see them. If not for the fact that Mirabelle caught Siffrin moving slightly, they likely would’ve been out all night. While she would’ve appreciated their rogue at least attempting to signal them, it didn’t seem like he could very easily talk, and the sight of him stroking Boniface’s hair was admittedly enough to warm even her overly practical, often abrasive excuse for a heart.

Of course, even the best sleep and mostly finely crafted sleeping bag in the world would not prevent her back from hurting after another night of camping. A truly disconcerting number of clicks and pops filled the tent as she sat up, trying to ignore the twinge of pain. Nothing to be done for it except a stretch or two—battle-specialized healing craft only did so much for muscle aches and old bones.

Odile put on her day clothes and shuffled out of her tent with a container of tea leaves, the siren song of caffeine calling to her. Thankfully, it seemed all was more or less as normal in the little group. Mirabelle and Boniface were already up with a fire going, the preteen cooking some eggs. However, there was one thing both odd and relieving: Siffrin was also awake, helping feed twigs into the blaze.

“Good morning, young ones. Good to see you feeling better, Siffrin,” she said.

“Mm hmm. Same as ever!” Siffrin chirped. “Just needed a longer nap than usual, sorry about that.”

That was an understatement. “Siffrin. Being asleep for over a full day does not count as a long nap so much as a short coma.”

Mirabelle jolted in place. “Madame! Should- should we bring that up? I mean-“

“It’s fine?” Siffrin said. “I knew it was coming. So… what do you want to know?”

“Nothing that can’t wait until after we’ve all eaten and I’ve gotten caffeine in me.”

Boniface side-eyed Siffrin, scraping at the eggs with unnecessary aggression. “… ‘Cept Frin. You can’t actually eat, can you?”

Siffrin hid his face in the collar of his cloak, head tilted so his hat hid his eyes as well. “Not in the traditional sense, no…”

“…. So what? Have you just been throwing your portions out?”

“Of course not!” Siffrin said, shaking his head emphatically. “That’d be a waste! I’ve just been sneaking them onto other people’s plates.”

Mirabelle gasped. “So I’m NOT crazy! All those times I thought that the food wasn’t ending, that more just kept appearing, that was you?!”

“Um. Yes. Sorry?” Siffrin said.

Boniface sighed, “You don’t gotta humor me anymore. I guess I keep the same portions though, since everyone was eating your share anyways?”

“Oh. Yes, that’s fine,” Siffrin said.

Odile put on her tea, and Mirabelle went to wake up Isabeau as breakfast was done. Bonnie divided up scrambled eggs for everyone who could eat, but…

“Oh? Siffrin? Are you not hungry?” Isabeau said, earning a charged look from everyone. “Did I say something weird?”

“I don’t have a digestive system, don’t worry about it,” Siffrin said.

“Oh! Oh… right. I guess you wouldn’t,” Isabeau said.

Odile read a book for most of the rest of breakfast, but it didn’t sound old she was missing much of interest. It was abnormally quiet. Siffrin apparently decided to start cleaning up before everyone was even done, the mess mostly gone by the time Odile finished her plate. She sipped the last of her tea—strong and black, just as she liked it—and decided it was about time to address the elephant in the room.

“So, Siffrin, you aren’t human,” Odile said.

Mirabelle immediately started stammering, Boniface mumbling something with their arms crossed while Isabeau looked nervously at Siffrin. Siffrin, however, simply nodded. If she didn’t know that his face was crafted with naturally a neutral expression, she’d assume his current smile was literally painted on.

Of course, he didn’t say anything, and neither did anyone else, so seemed she’d have to take the lead here.

“So what are you then?”

Clearly he was some form of supernatural being, but that narrowed it down surprisingly little. Given how human he usually acted, it seemed most likely he was a ghost, but assumptions were dangerous. Besides, ghosts tended to haunt important areas of objects and usually had an agenda, a reason to linger, and to be blunt, Siffrin seemed fairly aimless. So presumably, he was a spirit of some sort, but that did virtually nothing to narrow it down. “A spirit” could encompass anything from the simplest Sadness to, arguably, gods. Of course, there was always a chance he was built into the doll that housed him, making him something artificial, and really it was going to be faster to ask.

“I don’t know,” Siffrin said.

Oh she could feel the migraine coming on. “… what.”

“I don’t remember really…?” Siffrin said. “I know I’ve been wandering around a while, but I don’t really remember why. I guess just because I don’t have anything better to do?”

Old suspicion flared up as she narrowed her eyes. Generally speaking, spirits didn’t just “forget” what they were, at least not any developed and/or human-like enough to have coherent thought.

“So… you aren’t a ghost?” Mirabelle said.

“Maybe…? But if I am, I’m kind of bad at this,” Siffrin said. His eyes slid between all of them as he pulled one leg into his chest. “Sorry, I’m sure this isn’t making me sound any less suspicious or weird, is it?”

“Not really, no,” Odile said. “But I suppose if you’re telling the truth, it’s not entirely unheard of…” She’d heard a few tales of amnesiac gods, of things great but either stupid or unfathomable, of spirits and beings who hid things for reasons. It was hard to tell what you were dealing with until it was too late. Pressing him too much was probably a bad idea. Better safe than sorry.

“You seem to know a lot about this, M’dame,” Isabeau said. “Is your field of research spiritology?”

“The word you’re looking for is Phasmology, and no, it’s not my field of research. Much of what I’m saying is more or less common knowledge in Ka Bue, though I’d argue that we’ve historically placed too much stock in the works of spirits and ghosts. Though I suppose it’s only natural. Much easier to blame something you don’t understand on an unknown spirit than try to find the science behind it. That said, I don’t think you know what a heated debate is until you bring up the Bright Death in a room full of Ka Buan historians. I got a rib cracked for that.”

“… huh.” Was all that Siffrin had to say. Taciturn as always, it seemed.

Mirabelle cleared her throat, speaking with the slow deliberation of someone holding something back. “So… Even if you don’t remember what you are, you’re aren’t flesh and blood either, are you?”

“Nope,” Siffrin said. “I’ll admit, I don’t know the name for this material, but…” He was grinning. Was grinning that grin. The grin that came before a particularly bad pun. He was even rubbing his hands together. “If you want a closer look, I can give you a hand with that!” And then he tossed his hand to Mira.

As in the whole thing.

It just. Popped off.

“SIF?!”

“OH CHANGE OH CHANGE OH CHANGE-“ Mirabelle shouted, hands fumbling with the detached limb until instinctively flinging it away.

Odile felt vaguely nauseous, and Boniface’s eyebrows were furrowed together. They came to hide behind Odile.

And Siffrin was laughing. Though as they all kept staring, he seemed to wilt in front of them. “Uh… too much? Sorry, I-I thought it’d break the ice…” He got up, awkwardly shuffling to where his gloved hand had landed and putting it back on with a pop, wiggling his fingers demonstratively. “See? Good as new! No harm done!”

“Sif. Siffrin. Buddy. Are- are you okay? That doesn’t hurt, does it?” Isabeau said, hand hovering in the air.

“It doesn’t. I’m designed to come apart, when I need to,” Siffrin said. He hesitated only slightly before pulling his cloak and sleeve up, exposing his elbow joint. “I actually, um, have to take myself apart sometimes. For cleaning.”

Mirabelle’s eyes were a bit too wide, but she kept her composure surprisingly well for someone who was screaming moments ago. “Is that… scary? I mean, you have to take yourself apart.”

“I mean, not really? It’s probably like taking a bath to you guys.”

Isabeau was staring intently at the exposed “skin” of Siffrin’s arm, face flushed. Gems alive, that man was head over heels, wasn’t he? Getting flustered from the slightest showing of not-skin.

Odile rolled her eyes, unable to deny the fondness in her heart for these four. “Like taking a bath… vulnerable and personal, especially with the element of limited movement, but I’d imagine that any fear would wear off, if it ever existed.”

“O-Oh! Yeah! That makes sense!” Isabeau said. “If, uh…”

“If…?” Siffrin said.

“Nevermind!”

Gems, these two. Get a room. Actually, they all should, preferably at an inn. They needed to get moving.

“Well, I’d be interested in seeing how all of this works, but we did get held up a day or two. We should get moving as soon as we can,” Odile said.

“Yes ma’am,” Siffrin said. He started pitching in, helping others pack. After all, everything he owned was conveniently kept on that one body and its many hidden pockets and apparent crevices. One day, if they beat the curse, she’d find them all. Not today though.

————

I prefer tea, but buy me a Kofi?

[amhrosina]

soft morning sex with frank?

a/n: not beta read but full of soft smutty frank <3

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The soft press of Frank’s lips against your bare shoulder is what stirred you awake, slowly bringing you to consciousness out of a deep slumber. You kept your eyes closed, burying your face in the pillow that smelled like home. The subtle sounds of morning in Hell’s Kitchen crept through the window, pulling you further out of your stupor. Frank’s stubble rubbed against your back and you finally blinked your eyes open, squinting in the dim lighting. 

“It’s early, Frankie.” You sighed, content to stay wrapped in his warmth forever. He pulled you closer and nuzzled his nose against your neck, pressing soft kisses to the underside of your jaw. 

“Missed you.” He mumbled, running his lips across your neck. “‘ve been up for hours.”

This tidbit of information didn’t surprise you. Frank was always the first one to wake, sometimes chased from sleep by nightmares, other times blinking out of a dream and realizing he had slept a full night without interruption. He always did sleep better when he was wrapped in your scent. 

“Watching me?” You smiled.

“Always.” 

“Creep.”

You both giggled softly, soaking in each other’s happiness, warmth, and joy like it was something that might not last. Frank knew all too well that it, in fact, might not last. You were here now, but there were no promises that you’d be here forever. He’d do his best to protect you from his family’s demise, but he’d made that promise before and broken it. 

The complexity of the issue made itself present in the room before Frank could do or say anything. You read the shift in the room so quickly that Frank barely had the thought before you were turning to face him, cupping his jaw in your palm.

“Stop all that thinking.” You kissed the bridge of his nose - his least favorite feature and consequently, your favorite thing to kiss - and smiled. “‘t’s too early for that.”

“Sorry.” He smiled, finally able to kiss you properly, now that you were facing him. It was a slow, sensual kiss, one that raised the temperature in the room a degree or two. He tugged your hips against his, and you gasped when you felt his hard length against you. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, an advance that you’d never been able to deny.

You widened your legs in response, pushing against Frank’s shoulders until he was flat on his back, straddling his hips. His muscular body was pliable under your touch, bending and folding to your every whim. He would do anything you asked of him for the rest of his life if that’s what made you happy.

He sighed contently as you relaxed against his chest, arching into his hold. You angled your body so that your achingly wet core would rub against his hard cock, swiping your folds over the tip in a teasingly slow grind. He groaned, tightening his hold on your hips.

“You keep doin’ that and I ain’t lastin’ long, sweetheart.” He breathed, shuttering when you slid your core against him again. 

The rasp of his voice pulled a low moan from your chest, and you couldn’t stop yourself from sinking down on his aching, hard cock. You tensed immediately, the thickness and length of him sending a stinging sensation through your body. 

“Sore from last night?” He questioned, cupping your cheeks with his palms. A small smile formed at the memory of the night before. God, you were so flexible.

“Mhm.” You closed your eyes, waiting for the pain to pass. He carefully sat up, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you flush against him. He watched you, the knot between your eyebrows, the loosened clench of your jaw as the sting finally began to subside, the gasp of pleasure that escaped your mouth when he gently moved his hips against yours. All of it was beautiful. All of it was perfect. He never wanted to be anywhere but here, looking up at your glowing face, buried deep inside you, surrounded by the warmth that was you.

“You’re perfect.” He whispered, peppering kisses along your jaw. “You’re everything.” 

You rocked your hips against his again and again, a slow but increasingly sultry encounter that had you gasping for air. All the while, he pressed soft kisses into your bare skin and lightly ran his fingers along your spine. You could get drunk on his touch, and you sort of felt like you were drunk. The early hour combined with the heat in the room made your head swim. Frank was good at that.

Frank wrapped his arms around you and flipped you onto your back, unable to pull away from you for even a second. You arched into his touch, wrapping your legs around his waist. His lips met yours in a smoldering kiss, and you moaned into his mouth as he ground his hips against yours.

“F-Frankie.” You breathed, trailing your lips over his mouth, jaw, cheek, anything you could press your lips to. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck, grunting.

“You gonna come, baby?” He teased, licking a stripe up your throat for emphasis. You spasmed beneath him, almost coming apart at his words. 

“‘m gonna come, Frankie.” You moaned, focusing on the fire building in your core. He intertwined his fingers with yours, pulling your arms above your head before snapping his hips against yours.

“Wanna feel you come apart around me, sweetheart.” He squeezed your hands, pounding into you as you did just that. Your body tensed up, and you exploded beneath him. Fire coursed through your veins, your limbs trembling with overstimulation as he fucked you through your orgasm. You clawed at his back, clenching around his hard length. 

“Just like that, sweet girl, fuck,” he growled, releasing your hands in order to cup the back of your head instead. You arched into his warmth, clenching around him again. 

“‘m gonna come, baby. Can I fill you up, pretty girl?”

“Please, Frankie.” You moaned, nodding. “Fill me up.” 

It was enough to undo him. His breath hitched, and he groaned as he reached his peak inside of you. Your hearts pounded in unison, and even though you both were spent, your hands couldn’t help but find one another - coaxing each other through the highs.

Frank slumped onto the mattress next to you, pulling your body against his as he moved. The sun had begun its ascent into the sky, spreading its rays across the bedroom floor. You tilted your head up, eyeing the soft smile that had spread across Frank’s face.

“What is it?” You asked, lying your head down on his warm chest.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, sighing contently, “I just think you were made for me, and not a lot of people get to meet the person made just for them. Just feeling lucky s’all.”

Heat creeped up your neck, and you buried your face into his skin to hide your widening grin. It was luck, you thought, that brought him to you, and you’d never stop counting your lucky stars for that.

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[homocidalpotat]

Whats up? <3

Okay I'm just gonna say everything that happened right here

TL;DR: my neck is really swollen and has a big lump in it; parents are being shit.

So last night, only a bit before midnight, the back of my mouth and tongue started really hurting. Like, stinging and itching and burning. It's been doing that for a fair few days now and I just thought it was connected to the flu I've had. But then my neck started hurting too and I realised that I have a really big lump on my neck and my neck and half of my face is swollen and really sore. The lump is under my skin and it feels really firm and every time I touch my neck it hurts.

So I go to my parents room because I'm really nervous. My neck and mouth are really painful and swollen and there's a lump- of course I'm anxious. I don't think that's normal and it's probably concerning. Anyway, I go to my parents' room and wake them up. They were both really annoyed that I woke them up but I told them I had a lump on my neck. They both told me I was hallucinating and there was nothing there (there 100% was and is). I was getting more and more panicked because they wouldn't believe me and I was scared there was something seriously wrong with me because I'm not a medical professional- I'm a teenager with chronic anxiety. They kept telling me I was being mad and if I was going to the hospital it would be for my behaviour not my neck. My neck was really hurting so I was holding it but my mum forced me to not touch it and pinned me down so I couldn't move at all and I was really scared because I wasn't doing anything wrong and she was acting like I was dangerous and they kept yelling at me while I had a panic attack and they made sure I couldn't move and I was fucking terrified and they didn't understand and they thought I had gone mad. They also thought that because I was hyperventilating I was forcing myself to breathe weirdly and pretend that my neck was cutting off my breathing. They just really didn't understand and they weren't trying to and they were so angry and I felt like I was some sort of rabid animal they were trying to capture.

Eventually I kinda calmed down and my mum forced me to sleep in her bed with her and she was too close to me and I really hated it and it was so uncomfortable and I didn't want physical contact but I was nonverbal and really scared. My dad slept on the futon in my parents' room and was acting like I was being a burden. I did fall asleep.

Then I woke up at about quarter to 7 today and the lump was still there- maybe even bigger so I went to my room and that's when I first went on Tumblr. I've almost had a panic attack again since, my mouth really hurts, my throat is burning and my lump is really painful. My face feels kind of droopy and numb and swollen. I am really fucking scared. I know it's probably nothing but google said it's cancer and my friend said his sister had something similar and she had a parasite and I am so nervous because my parents won't even consider taking me to the hospital because even if they acknowledge that my neck is bad, they won't do anything about it. I can't find anyone who has any reliable advice either, unless I literally run away from my house to the medical clinic about a mile away and I'm really fucking scared to do that and I feel stuck.

Also if I don't eat in too long I can pass out, feel sick, be sick, or a great number of things and I don't know if I can get stuff down my throat right now with how swollen my neck is because when I cough I can feel the lump.

So uhh, two things. Neck really hurts, is very swollen. Parents are being fucking shit.

Update: mum told me to take some painkillers and said it was because of my flu. She won't take me to the hospital probably even though she said it will probably be there for a week. She's not anywhere near a medical professional. She has kind of realised that I'm in a lot of pain. I still haven't had breakfast at 10:38... but I might make a smoothie.

[gay-barbarian]

In this one, Fox survive the train somehow but is stuck barely conscious in a hospital bed. Small description on Fox on the rail before she gets to the hospital then everything else is the rest of the Warriors coming to talk/see her.

A muffled scream came from the rail, right there was a barely breathing girl, her legs in an impossible position, bleeding from everywhere.

Fox was hurting. Everything hurted so much, well everything except her legs. That she couldn’t feel at all. Thinking hurted. She couldn't be dead, death was probably less painful. Something wet dribbled down her cheeks, blood or tears she couldn't say. She heard sounds from so far away. She wanted to check where she was but turning her head was clearly not an option. Her vision got blurry, sounds got even more distant, maybe she could finally rest now that the warriors were home safe.

She started hearing again. It was muted and too loud at the same time. She still couldn’t see anything. Even if she wanted to open her eyes she wasn’t sure she could. Her lungs felt like fire, her mouth was so dry, she felt like she needed to cough but simply couldn’t. Her body refused to move. The voices got clearer. Was that Cleon she heard? If that was the afterlife it sucked, but at least she was with Cleon. She could barely hear what was said, only a few words “Fox” “Home” “Alive”. Then the voices disappeared.

The next time Fox regained consciousness, she heard two women whispering but couldn’t discern what was said or who was talking. Then the door closed and someone shuffled close to her and sat on what she guessed was a chair. "Hey Fox…” Swan’s voice was the clearest thing she heard in a while. She sounded so tired, like a lifetime had passed since they last talked to each other. “I don't know if you can really hear us but they said talking could help.” A long silence followed as Swan tried to concentrate on what to say. “I'm so sorry Fox... I would do anything for us to change places. I should have been the one taking on the cops to get you home alive... We saw you get hit... We all thought you died... I should have come back for you right away. Cleon would have. A true leader wouldn't have let you there..." Fox could hear Swan voice breaking and shaking more with each sentence. "The warriors need you home, I need you home." Fox heard Swan’s breath get caught in her throat. “I can’t do this, I’m so sorry”. And Fox was alone again.

Cochise was the next person Fox heard. The woman’s voice was calm and matter of fact, as if she had been there before. "You did good, you know? Must have been scary to be alone against this cop, but you were so brave and so strong. A true warrior.” Fox felt the blanket on her get adjusted so most of her body was covered. She had even realised she was cold but she felt much better. “The doctors said you're doing better, you just have to wake up now. I know it's hard and scary and it won't be easier once you'll wake up but we'll be there with you. We'll bring you back to Coney, Fox." Cochise finished while changing Fox’s pillow. 

Fox was still so tired. She kept trying to wake up, but she lacked the strength. Everyone was counting on her to wake up. Just before falling back asleep, she heard a soft “Heyy..” She vaguely remembered that voice from that night. “I feel like I should reintroduce myself, I'm Mercy, don't know if you remember me. The warriors... they're a mess without you. I mean they do what they have to do but everyone seems so out of it. Swan haven't really slept since that night... pretty sure she blames herself for what happened to you and Ajax. So it would be nice if you could wake up and tell her she's being dumb. And go hug Rembrandt. She misses you and Ajax so much, even I can see it. She hasn’t come back to your guy’s place yet, she’s staying with Cleon and Swan, and me ” Silence. “You'll be okay, right?” Another silence before Mercy walked to the door. “Just… Come back to them, please.” Silence filled the room again.  

A loud “HEYO” was suddenly heard in the quiet room and Fox knew Cowgirl was there. The woman had come to see her a few times already, always with so much energy. It filled Fox with joy but also drained her of all her energy. "How’s it going, Foxy? I mean other than being stuck in a hospital bed and all that. I’m here to report this week's news directly from the warriors headquarters. First off, Ajax is still in jail but she’s supposed to be released soon! I’m sure she will come visit you in no time. Or you know you could wake up and surprise her!” Cowgirl stopped in her tracks and waited a bit to see if Fox answered her before continuing. “I’ll let you think about that. On other news, Swan and Mercy are together! You know Mercy the rando from the Orphans that kept following us, the one that made chicken sounds? Of course you know her, she comes by from time to time. So anyway she's a warrior now and she's with Swan! I saw Swan smile at her the other day, it was soooo weird, she’s so whipped." Another pause. “We also expanded our turf to one more block but it’s hard to make sure others know since Rembrandt hasn't gone out to tag anything since… I shouldn’t bore you with work. We can’t wait to have you back with us.” Cowgirl continued talking about anything and everything but Fox stopped listening, she felt herself losing consciousness again.

Fox felt the bed dropping a little on the side. A delicate hand touched her arm and her body relaxed. Fox recognised the smell of paint coming from the small woman carefully lying by her side. Rembrandt slowly put her head on Fox's chest listening to her heart beat. A moment passed, Fox didn't know if it had been three hours or three seconds but someone knocked on the door. "It's time to go, Rem, they won't let us stay any longer," said Swan. Rembrandt moved slowly out of the bed and rearranged Fox's hair out of her face. She squeezed Fox’s hand before joining Swan by the door and leaving with one last look. 

"They let me out.” Ajax, Fox finally heard Ajax again. “I should be happy to be free but if I hadn't gone after that goddamn cop you wouldn’t be here... I could have protected you...  I'm sorry Fox. I fucked up bad this time. I promise you I’ll do everything to keep you safe." Ajax stayed by her side for a while. Talking from time to time explaining how she fucked up in her opinion. Fox was just happy she was there with her.

Fox heard someone shuffle around to bring the chair closer to her. A strong hand took hers. "They made it home alive thanks to you. They told me everything that happened. You were so brave Fox, I’m so proud of the woman you’re becoming.” A calming silence filled the room. “But please never put yourself in front of a moving train again or I’ll whoop your ass.” Every fiber of Fox’s body relaxed as if the voice had taken away that whole night. She didn’t think she would hear her again. Not here. Not with the others. “Now wake up and come back home, back to your family." Cleon was alive. Cleon wanted to bring her home. Fox had brought everyone home alive. Tears rolled down her cheek. Everyone got home alive. She squeezed the hand with all the strength she had. Cleon squeezed back and looked up with a smile at her warriors on the other side of the hospital room glass. Fox is alive.