#i'd like to be a fly on the wall that day

[tqlepatia]

─ One of the girls. ♰

- ❝ sigh, guys, i tried. not revised, english in'st my first language and i dont write smuut very well 👁❞

you didn't really liked men, I mean, who likes them? but you is desperate enough for money to not put limits on your client's, basic math, fewer clients, less money.

Girls are hot, everybody knows that, but who most people don't know that the ones with the most courage, come to the brothel to "try" if they like girls or something like that, in short? You've never had such experienced womans.

until one day, it was a normal one to you, besides of the loud of the girls filling the of the building corridors, as aways you get dressed up, putting some perfume of some brand unknown, getting you hair done and soon remembering of change the sheets and etc.

Soon you finished all you chores you hear nock at the door, you check the watch in the wall, its still early, babette already open? you sigh, but then your big curiosity make you open the door, seeing babette with an almost new expression, she was a mix of confused, happy, sad and almost worry

"darling, you already is dressed up?" she ask analyzing your room, sighing she gives you bag of paper - with some white lace lingerie, looks expansive.

"do you know who is the silco right-hand?" Hm, you may heard one time during a late night conversation with the girls? the only thing you sure is that you are confused as hell.

"Yeah, i heard of her, shes dead ? Why u looking at me sooo?..not trying to be rude okay?" babette force a little laugh, she consider you, too much, almost like a daughter, she remember more clearly than the rivers of Piltover the day you come in, soaking wet of the rain, looking guilt, ashemed and all, she soon cleaned her through looking at you

"She was a regular client here, but of sudden, she disappeared, and shes back now, and told me she was coming here later, I'd think of separate my best girl for her."

you smile nodding, in a place like this, is rare even a little of genuine affection, she smile, wishing you good luck, and you almost grab as if is 100 gold coins flying on the air, you know you will need it.

after what feels like a eternity, you hear the ambient music, a low sensual jazz, The brothel Its officially open now.

Exactly 2 hours passed, and nothing of her, you were already with that lingerie, must be from Piltover, with too many details, little flowers embroidered on top of the silk, some transparent parts, and the big dress-like, transparent, feathered, white matching perfectly with each piece, you were left admiring yourself in the mirror for almost 1 hour, you looked pure even! Hm, so she was one of those woman's who liked seeing a woman so vulnerable, and innocent? Funny.

The soft jazz played in the background, almost drowned out by the weight of the silence as you waited. You were about to give in to the exhaustion, laying back slowly on the bed, when the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. Each step was deliberate, firm, growing closer. The air seemed heavier now, the world around you quieter, as if holding its breath.

The door creaked as it opened, revealing a striking, imposing figure. You sat up instinctively, your gaze locking onto the woman now standing in the doorway. This wasn’t just any client. Her presence carried authority, and the dim light from the hallway caught the glint of a mechanical arm that seemed as natural to her as her skin.

“Finally found you,” she said, her voice low and gravelly, filling the room with ease.

It took a moment for your brain to catch up. Your eyes roamed over her face—a sharp scar running down one side, a smirk that bordered on dangerous, and eyes that seemed to pierce straight through you.

“You’re…?” you started, but the answer was obvious before you could finish the question.

“Sevika,” she said simply, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her with a deliberate slowness. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Sevika. Silco’s right hand. The woman whispered about in hushed voices, both feared and respected. You never thought you’d find yourself face-to-face with her.

“About… me?” You tried to sound composed, but the hesitation in your voice betrayed you.

“That’s right,” she said, crossing her arms and letting her gaze linger on you. “Babette said you were… special.”

Heat rose to your face under the weight of her stare. Special? What was that supposed to mean? Her words didn’t make sense, but there was something in the way she spoke, the way she looked at you, that made the air in the room feel heavier, charged with tension.

“I didn’t think you… visited places like this,” you said, trying to mask your unease.

Sevika let out a low, almost mocking chuckle and strode toward the armchair in the corner of the room. She sat with the ease of someone who was completely in control, her mechanical arm resting casually on the chair’s armrest.

“Normally, I don’t,” she admitted, her tone calm, yet carrying an edge of authority. “But some things… deserve my attention. You, for example.”

“Me?” Your voice came out louder than intended, the disbelief clear in your tone.

“You.” Sevika tilted her head, her sharp eyes scanning you slowly, deliberately. “I wanted to see what made you different. Why someone like Babette would say you’re not like the others here.”

Your hands clenched at the fabric of the bedsheet, a mix of confusion and discomfort swirling inside you. How did she know so much about you? And why was she so interested?

“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” you muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“Oh, I do.” Sevika leaned forward slightly, her voice softening, though it lost none of its weight. “You don’t belong in a place like this. Anyone can see that just by looking at you.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. It was the truth you tried so hard to avoid acknowledging—the truth that brought you here in the first place. But hearing it from Sevika made it feel far too real.

“Why does that matter to you?” you asked, trying to regain some semblance of control.

Sevika smirked, the metallic glint of her arm catching the light as she adjusted her posture. “Let’s just say I have a habit of investing in things that are worth it. And maybe… you’re exactly that.”

Her words made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t understand. Before you could respond, she stood, towering over you, her presence filling the room. She moved closer, her gaze still locked onto yours—intense, but now tinged with curiosity rather than scrutiny.

“So, tell me,” she said, her voice dropping to an almost teasing whisper. “Do you think you can handle someone like me?"

Oh! You handled it well, not even 2 hours of conversation, you were already pushing your head between her legs, you weren't surprised that she was so submissive, those big puppy eyes looking at you with such curiosity since she stepped into the room didn't fool you, but you can say was the best sex of your life.

You already played with Sevika's body in every way, strap, vibrator, anything you remembered having in the room, you were truly fascinated by Sevika's body, responding to even the slightest provocation

her mind? Too fuzzy to even make a sentence without letting out a moan or a sigh, of course, you as a prostitute were experienced, Sevika knew that, but damn, not that experienced, she already lost count of how many orgasms she had just that night, she stopped counting after the third one.

"Y-y...hmm..yeah baby...keep your tongue li-..like that..." sevika is losing her goddamn mind with you, shes fucking overstimulated mess, babette didn't lie, you are fucking special.

She swear that was seeing stars everytime your hot tongue licked her swollen clit, while your fingers hitting all the rights spots.

"Woah woah Vika, calm down, she is a most eating my fingers, I still need them later yk?" - you tease letting a little laugh while the sound of almost pornographic wet vagina - no. It was dripping, after about ten minutes sevika reached the climax, and at the same time her time was up. You give a small kiss on her pussy, as a farewell, but before you could say anything, sevika pulls you for a kiss.

The room was quiet now, filled only with the fading hum of soft jazz in the background and the occasional creak of the bed as you shifted against the pillows. Sevika sat at the edge of the bed, her posture loose and unguarded, her mechanical arm resting heavily in her lap as she carefully poured water from the jug on the nightstand into a glass.

You watched her silently, still catching your breath, the weight of everything that had just happened leaving you warm and buzzing. The vulnerability Sevika had shown—seeing her let go, let you take control—was something you hadn’t imagined. Yet now, she was the one moving around, fussing over you.

She handed you the glass, her fingers brushing against yours. Her cheeks were still a little flushed, a light sheen of sweat catching the low glow of the room’s dim lighting.

“You know,” you said, raising an eyebrow as you took a sip of the water, “shouldn’t I be the one doing the aftercare here? You’re the one who got ruined, after all.”

Sevika shot you a look, her lips quirking up into a small, tired smirk. “Shut up,” she muttered, but there was no real bite to her words. She reached for a clean cloth, dipping it into the bowl of warm water she’d set aside, and turned back to you.

“Seriously,” you teased, watching her gently wring out the cloth. “You’re not supposed to be up and about after that. You’re supposed to be the one lying down, looking like you just got wrecked.”

Sevika let out a low chuckle, shaking her head as she leaned closer, brushing the damp cloth along your collarbone with surprising gentleness. Her movements were careful, her touch soft as she wiped away the remnants of sweat, cum and split from your skin.

“Maybe,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost tender. “But I’m not the kind of person who just… sits there and lets someone else do everything. Besides”—her smirk widened—“you earned this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound light and almost disbelieving. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, her gaze softening as it met yours. “I’ve been told.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Sevika continued her careful ministrations, her hand steady even as exhaustion began to tug at her features. There was something deeply intimate about the way she tended to you.

When she was done, she set the cloth aside and sat back, looking at you with a rare softness in her expression. “You good?” she asked, her voice almost hesitant.

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, I’m good, and you?”

Sevika reached out then, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, her fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “Good,” she said simply, her voice rough but warm.

As she leaned back, you couldn’t resist one last quip. “Still think I should’ve been the one cleaning you up, though. You looked like you could barely stand for a second there.”

Sevika rolled her eyes, but the faint blush creeping up her neck betrayed her. “Keep talking, and I’ll leave you to clean up on your own next time,” she muttered, though the smirk playing on her lips said otherwise.

You laughed softly, pulling her down beside you and wrapping an arm around her waist. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Sev.”

Her mechanical arm clinked softly as she shifted closer, her body relaxing against yours. For now, there were no walls, no façades—just the quiet warmth of her presence and the promise of moments like this to come.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 22 Chapter 22 | healing sigils⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The next day, you found yourself walking down to the palace halls, yawning softly. You were dressed for an outing, draped in a comfortable shawl and a light cloak to ward off the morning chill. Instead of your usual satchel, you carried a basket with blankets stuffed inside, prepared for a day outside the palace walls.

Earlier that morning, while delivering breakfast to Queen Penelope, she had paused and turned to you with a task. She asked if you could head into town to retrieve something special for King Odysseus after you finished your chores.

She explained that she had his old bow tightened and had two metal arrows created to go with it, entrusting you with the errand since Erythia, the old nurse, was busy and not available at the moment.

You had nodded, understanding the importance of the task, and agreed to handle it with the care she expected.

Now, you were currently standing at the gates, waiting for the guards to open them when you heard your name called. Turning, you saw Callias jogging over, coming to a stop panting slightly before standing upright, a playful pout forming on his lips.

"Did someone forget that the two of us were supposed to hang out after finishing our morning duties?" he asked, his tone light but carrying a hint of mock accusation.

You sighed, feeling a twinge of guilt as you'd hoped to have finished this task before Callias came looking for you. "I'm sorry," you apologized, shifting the basket on your arm to a more comfortable position. "Queen Penelope asked me to head into town to pick up something special for King Odysseus."

Callias' form relaxed slightly at the mention of Penelope. "The Queen?" he sniffed, his expression softening. "I suppose that's an important errand."

He then sighed, throwing his head back with a theatrical groan as he kicked a stray pebble along the ground, muttering about how he guessed he could go bother Kieran and the others instead.

On a whim, driven by a mix of wanting his company and not wanting to head into town alone, you offered, "You could... come with me if you'd like."

His face brightened instantly, the previous disappointment vanishing as if it had never been. "Really? I mean, if you're sure I wouldn't be intruding..."

"It's just picking up a bow and some arrows," you reassured him with a smile. "I'd enjoy the company."

With a grin now splitting his face, Callias quickly adjusted his stance, his previous sulk forgotten. "Well, when you put it like that, how could I refuse an adventure with Ithaca's finest handmaiden?"

The guards at the gate gave you both a nod as they pulled the heavy doors open, allowing the cool morning air tinged with the scent of the sea to brush against your face. Together, you stepped through the gates, the promise of the bustling town ahead filling you with a renewed sense of purpose.

With Callias by your side, the day seemed a bit brighter, the task less daunting.

.☆.     .✩.         .☆.

Inside the blacksmith's shop, you stood alone, draped only in your shawl. The earlier walk with Callias had been brisk, and amidst his playful whining about the cold, you had wrapped your cloak around him, insisting he take it despite his objections. His promise to meet up after grabbing a few things in town left you by yourself to collect the queen's order.

The shop was a cavern of rough work, all heat and iron, filled with the smells of sweat and burnt metal—a place of coarse hands and blunt words. It was a stark contrast to your own presence, like a lone flower stubbornly blooming in a swamp.

The shop setup was straightforward, with a wooden desk and a worker in front overseeing the transactions, behind which a large archway led to the bustling workshop. Through the arch, you could see several blacksmiths at work, sparks flying occasionally as they hammered and shaped metal. The ambient noise of clanging and the roar of fires created a backdrop to the rhythmic hammering, a symphony of industry and craft.

Approaching the counter, a young receptionist with soot smudging his face looked up from his ledger, giving you a tentative smile. His hair flopped over one eye, and he leaned casually against the desk, making him seem less formidable in this rough environment.

"What can I get for you today?" he asked, his voice friendly but carrying the din of the background work.

Feeling slightly awkward, you cleared your throat, adjusting the shawl over your shoulders. "My name's, ____, and I'm here to pick up an order for Queen Penelope," you started, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "She had an old bow tightened and metal arrows made to accompany it."

As the blacksmith behind the desk called to a colleague to retrieve the items, your eyes wandered to the back room, where the true work of the forge was conducted.

The sight of glowing metal and the sound of relentless hammering were oddly mesmerizing, a stark reminder of the hard labor that went into crafting even the smallest tools that made daily life smoother in the palace.

While you waited, a cloaked figure leaned lazily against a workbench, an observer to the symphony of sparks. Their presence was unassuming at first, a mere shadow among the flickering flames.

But then, a voice cut through the din—a rich, smooth tone that purred more than it spoke, sliding between the clangs with an ease that felt both practiced and natural. "You're quite the delicate little thing to be in a place like this."

The words, tinged with amusement and something indefinable, drew your attention. With an easy, unhurried motion, the stranger pushed back her hood, revealing herself. A woman. Beautiful, but in a way that felt ripe, indulgent—like something too much yet just enough. Her thick curls were tangled with wild vines, framing a face that held deep violet eyes hooded with amusement.

You stood still, feeling a flutter twist in your stomach. She was gorgeous, her presence commanding yet oddly inviting, drawing your eyes and holding them captive. Her gaze met yours, and the corner of her lips tilted in a knowing smile, as if she could read the flurry of thoughts racing through your mind.

The woman then stretched comically, her movements exaggerated as if she was in a playful performance. She sauntered over to the shop's desk, leaning heavily on it with a casual grace. Her voice drawled out as she called to the man behind the counter, "And when will my order be ready?"

The shop attendant glanced up, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation. "The gorgets should be done by the end of the day, ma'am," he replied, his tone professional yet tinged with familiarity.

The woman groaned, a theatrical sound that filled the small space. "Bummer," she exclaimed, but her annoyance seemed more playful than genuine. Her head then turned, her gaze landing back on you. Her lips pulled back into a smirk, and she walked towards you, her movements fluid and almost predatory.

She circled you slowly, her presence thick and lazy but sharp—like honey that dragged slow but clung persistently. The air around her was saturated with the scent of wine and overripe grapes, an intoxicating aroma that seemed to stick to everything it touched.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?" she purred, her voice low and smooth, sliding between words with a practiced ease that was both compelling and slightly unnerving.

You cleared your throat, feeling your face heat up. Your hands grew clammy as you averted your eyes briefly before regaining your composure. "I'm here on business for the queen," you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Her eyebrows raised slightly, a mix of amusement and a hint of respect coloring her expression. "Royals, huh?" she hummed, her voice rich with curiosity. Leaning forward, her deep violet eyes gleaming with mischief, she asked, "Ever seen them at their parties, feasts? Got any stories about them making fools of themselves all drunk and merry?"

Before you could respond, the blacksmith at the counter called out, signaling that your order was ready. You were about to thank her for the chat and move on, but the moment was abruptly cut short by a man's rough voice calling from the doorway, "Thyessa."

The woman—Thyessa—sighed, a look of exaggerated weariness crossing her face as she stretched her arms lazily. "Mm, already?" she murmured, her tone tinged with reluctance. Turning back to you, her smirk deepened, her voice a warm, velvety purr, "Well, guess I'll leave you to it, little flower. You just looked too pretty to ignore."

With that, she walked away, her steps slow and deliberate. Over her shoulder, she gave a casual wave, adding with a teasing sparkle in her eye, "Try not to wilt without me."

As she disappeared, leaving only the lingering weight of her presence and the ghost of her scent behind, the blacksmith cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to the counter with a repeated call of your name. You jolted slightly, shaken by the encounter but relieved to focus on the task at hand.

The interaction with Thyessa left you a bit disoriented, her presence like a whirlwind that had momentarily swept through your calm routine. The weight of the bow and arrows in your arms grounded you, a tangible reminder of why you were here.

Paying the blacksmith, you tried to steady your nerves. As you handed over the coins, the clinking sound seemed overly loud in the now quiet shop.

Suddenly, Callias burst into the shop, munching on something with wide eyes, clearly excited. "You won't believe the sexy woman I just saw walking out of here!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe and a bit of mischief.

You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him wearing your cloak, which stopped just above his knees, compared to how it hung much lower on you. It looked almost comical on his taller frame, but he wore it with an exaggerated pride that only Callias could manage.

He walked over, giving a low whistle as he eyed one of the sharp arrows you'd just acquired. "So, how are you planning to get all of this out of here?" he asked, his tone playful yet genuinely curious.

You smiled, already handing him one of the large blankets to wrap around the bow. "With your help, of course," you replied, a teasing glint in your eyes.

Callias playfully narrowed his eyes at you, taking another bite of his apple. "I knew you were using me," he muttered, but he went ahead and carefully wrapped the bow, showing more care than his words suggested.

Together, you managed to secure the bow and arrows, Callias joking about being your personal pack mule as he adjusted the load in his arms.

Stepping out of the blacksmith's shop, you felt the evening breeze cool against your skin, a welcome relief from the forge's stifling heat. Callias chattered beside you, his spirits high, and you found yourself drawn into his infectious enthusiasm, the weight of the bow and arrows now just another part of your shared adventure.

☆

☆

After delivering the meticulously wrapped parcel to Queen Penelope, who had received it with her usual gracious nod, you and Callias made your way towards your chamber to retrieve your divine lyre for the evening's potential use.

The hallways of the palace echoed with the quiet hum of daily life, the soft clatter of servant's feet and the distant murmur of courtiers blending into a familiar tapestry of sounds.

Just as you were about to turn down the corridor that led to your quarters, you caught sight of Telemachus approaching. He was wearing a bright and infectious grin that matched the mood of the day, his eyes sparkling with an energy you hadn't seen in him for some time. Your own cheeks warmed slightly, the memories of his near-confession the day before coloring your perception of his cheerful demeanor.

Telemachus' gaze lingered on Callias briefly, an indecipherable flicker of emotion passing over his features before his face smoothed into a polite smile. "Callias," he greeted warmly, then his excitement seemed to double as he turned towards you.

"I almost forgot to mention—Pisistratus is arriving into town today with the other exports from the kingdoms we trade with," Telemachus announced, the name sparking a light in his eyes. "I'd love to take you into town. He would be thrilled to see you, I'm sure."

Pisistratus—a name you recognized well. You had seen him sparingly throughout the years, his visits to Ithaca always marked by the sort of fanfare that accompanied someone of his status. You had met him once or twice before, his charismatic presence leaving a lasting impression each time.

Internally, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the prospect of seeing him again, especially under such pleasant circumstances. The memory of your last brief meeting, his easy charm and laughter, came back to you vividly, painting your anticipation with bright strokes.

You hesitated, mouth half-open to accept Telemachus' invitation, when you suddenly remembered your plans with Callias. A tinge of regret shadowed your expression as you softly let Telemachus know about your prior commitment. "I'm actually supposed to hang out with Callias today," you explained, the reluctance clear in your voice.

Telemachus' face fell slightly, his disappointment palpable. Just as you were about to reassure him, Callias, ever the peacemaker, chimed in cheerily, "It's alright, really. I don't mind at all." But you shook your head, adamant, "No, we agreed to hang out today. It's hard to find time with our schedules."

The prince watched, a bemused spectator to your gentle argument with Callias, until you proposed a solution, turning back to Telemachus with a hopeful look. "How about this? Can Callias come along?"

Telemachus blinked, taken aback for a moment, as if the idea of including Callias hadn't crossed his mind. After a brief pause, where it seemed he might refuse, he finally relented with a stressed but genuine smile. "Sure... the more the merrier," he said, though his tone carried a hint of resignation.

Pleased with the compromise, you beamed, "Great!" Then, remembering the basket you were still carrying, you added, "Just let me drop this off in my room, and I'll be ready to go."

Leaving Telemachus and Callias momentarily, you hurried down the hall as you prepared to set out for what promised to be an interesting day.

.☆.     .✩.         .☆.

When the three of you arrived in town, the port was alive with the hustle and bustle typical of a busy trading day. Ships of various sizes bobbed at the docks, their sails fluttering in the breeze, while merchants shouted over each other, trying to attract customers to their stands piled high with exotic goods and local crafts.

The air was thick with the scents of salt from the sea and spices being unloaded from the latest arrivals.

As you paused, taking it all in, a wave of nostalgia hit you.

For a moment, the marketplace twisted, distorting like a view through rippled glass, and you were a child again, clutching your mother's hand. You turned at the sound of your name, half-expecting to see her there, her warm smile and bright eyes looking down at you. But when you blinked, the illusion shattered—instead, it was Telemachus, concern etching his features.

"Are you alright?" he asked, studying your face closely.

You gave a small chuckle, pushing away the momentary daze. "Yeah, I am," you assured him, pointing ahead where a familiar figure stood atop some barrels, animatedly speaking to a group of men. "Look, there's Pisistratus!"

Telemachus' face lit up with a wide smile. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out the man's name, waving eagerly to catch his attention. "Pisistratus!"

As Pisistratus' eyes scanned the crowd, his gaze finally settled on you and Telemachus, his face breaking into a broad, delighted grin. With a joyous roar that drew the attention of several nearby traders, he leaped down from his perch atop the barrels and strode energetically toward you both.

The two friends met halfway, crashing into a hearty embrace that involved vigorous back-patting and laughter, clearly overjoyed at their reunion.

You and Callias approached more slowly, giving the friends a moment to catch up without intruding too much. Yet, as Pisistratus looked over Telemachus' shoulder, his eyes landed on you, and his smirk grew wider. He excused himself from Telemachus and walked over, stopping a few feet away to give Callias a respectful nod of greeting before turning his full attention to you.

Tall and a bit more muscular than Telemachus, Pisistratus' presence was imposing yet friendly. His dark blonde hair, interwoven with strands of gold that caught the sunlight, framed a face marked by a summer's tan and a sharp, playful smile. His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned down slightly and took your hand, raising it to his lips for a gallant kiss on the back. "My, my, if it isn't the radiant jewel of Ithaca," he exclaimed, his voice rich and melodious. "How have you been, my dear?"

Before you could respond, Telemachus cut in with a warning tone, "Easy there, Pisistratus."

Unperturbed, Pisistratus chuckled, shooting Telemachus a mischievous look. "Oh, don't mind him," he said, his gaze flicking back to you with an impish twinkle. "Tell me, has our noble prince finally mustered the courage to court you properly, or is he still playing the part of the ever-dutiful, unclaiming royal?"

Telemachus' face flushed a deep red, and he reached out to give Pisistratus a light shove, eliciting a hearty laugh from his friend. "Careful, or I'll start telling stories you'd rather forget," Telemachus retorted, though the embarrassment was evident in his voice.

Pisistratus' laughter rang out, clear and joyful, as he turned back to you with an apologetic yet still playful grin. "Truly, though," he continued, "it's always a pleasure to see you shining so brightly, ____. Ithaca's sun seems dimmer compared to your glow."

He then shifted his attention to Callias, his gaze giving the man a once-over, lingering a moment on his clothing. With a sly smile, he remarked, "And what brings a servant of Bronte all the way to Ithaca? If I recall correctly, your royals are a bit... possessive, no?"

Callias scoffed, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in amusement. "That's not even the half of it," he replied, shaking his head slightly.

Pisistratus laughed heartily again, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Well, you'll have to catch me up on it later, yeah?" he proposed, the lightness in his tone belying the depth of his interest.

Turning back to Telemachus, his demeanor shifted from playful to earnest as he leaned closer to the prince. "There's a matter I must discuss," he began, his voice lowering slightly. "One of the men on the ship is seriously injured. We're not sure he'll make it back to our kingdom without help. Could Ithaca spare a physician?" His brow furrowed with concern, highlighting the gravity of the situation.

Telemachus' response was immediate, his voice filled with ready assurance as he started, "Of course, we can arrange—" but his words trailed off as a sudden realization struck him. His gaze snapped to you, a spark of inspiration clear in his expression. "Actually... ____ could help."

You balked at the suggestion, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over you. "I-I'm not sure that's a good idea," you countered, your voice tinged with hesitation. Your hands fidgeted at your sides, betraying your nervousness. "I'm not exactly trained in medicine... I mean, I've never done anything like that before."

Telemachus stepped closer, his presence reassuring. He gently grasped your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You might not realize it, but you have a natural talent for healing," he insisted, his tone earnest. "Remember all those times you helped patch me up after sparring? Somehow, I always seemed to recover faster when you were the one tending to the wounds."

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you averted your eyes. The memory of those intimate moments—being so close to him, tending to his bruises and cuts—flashed through your mind, making your heart flutter despite the seriousness of the situation.

Then, Apollo's words echoed in your mind, strengthening your resolve, "You have an affinity for medicine, for soothing what is broken and helping it mend... simply being there—offering your light, your warmth, your presence—is enough to heal what cannot be mended by mortal hands."

With a reluctant sigh, you finally nodded, though still not fully convinced. "Alright, I'll do it," you murmured, then added with a half-teasing, half-serious tone, "But you'd better have a real physician on standby in case your theory about my 'healing abilities' isn't as solid as you think."

Telemachus chuckled, the sound rich with warmth. "Deal," he agreed, his smile reassuring. "Thank you, ____. You're doing a great thing." The warmth in his voice and the certainty of Apollo's blessing combined to chase away the last of your doubts.

You didn't miss the appreciative gleam in Pisistratus' eyes either as he nodded in agreement, obviously relieved by your willingness to help. The serious ambiance briefly lifted, allowing a moment of camaraderie among you all.

Callias, who had been following the conversation with a slightly confused look, finally spoke up. "Umm, what are you two talking about?" His tone carried a mix of curiosity and slight exasperation, as if he'd been left out of an important secret.

Realizing that you hadn't explained the situation to Callias, your lips pressed into a tight line before releasing a resigned sigh. You turned towards him, your shoulders dropping slightly as you decided to reveal your unique connection with Apollo. "Well, it turns out I have a... certain favor from Apollo. It's supposed to help with healing... among other things."

Instead of reacting with shock or disbelief, Callias simply blinked, shrugged, and said, "Oh." You stared at him, bewildered by his nonchalant acceptance.

"That's it? You believe me just like that?" you asked, your tone a mixture of surprise and a slight challenge.

Callias scoffed lightly, his eyes twinkling with humor. "____, you've got a divine lyre from Hermes. I think you being Apollo's favorite is pretty much to be expected by this point."

Telemachus, who had been quietly observing the exchange, suddenly interjected, confusion lacing his words. "Hermes? Lyre?" His brow furrowed, clearly puzzled by the new pieces of information that seemed to have slipped past him.

You waved off his confusion with a quick gesture, not wanting to delve into another lengthy explanation right then. Turning back to Pisistratus, you said, "Let's go. Take me to him."

Pisistratus nodded, clearly eager to get moving. With a swift motion, he gestured for you to follow him, leading the way with purposeful strides towards the docks where the injured man awaited your uncertain but necessary aid.

Telemachus and Callias fell into step behind you, the former still looking a bit perplexed but trusting, the latter entirely at ease with the unfolding events.

As you followed Pisistratus through the cramped corridors of the ship, the tang of seawater mixed with the acrid scent of illness and medicine.

The make-shift infirmary was a small room, barely larger than a storage closet.

Upon entering, you immediately noticed the young stable boy lying on the cot. His face was pale, his chest rising and falling unevenly, sweat beading his forehead. The bandage wrapped around his leg was stained and slightly unraveled, hinting at the severity of the wound beneath.

Pisistratus spoke up, his tone suddenly lacking its usual joviality. "How's he holding up?" he asked, nodding toward the boy.

The sailor, a grizzled man with salt-and-pepper beard, looked up from his task. His expression was grim as he replied, "Not well. Goes in and out of consciousness, high fever, and sweats a lot. We've done what we can but..."

His gaze then shifted to you, confusion clear in his eyes. "And you are? The nurse?"

Before you could answer, Pisistratus intervened. "This is ____. She's here to help."

As Pisistratus spoke up, confirming your role there, Telemachus smoothly took charge of the situation. "She'll need a rundown of what's been done and what needs to happen next," he instructed the older sailor, who gave a respectful nod in response to the prince's directive.

The sailor, his face lined with years of sea and sun, looked initially skeptical as he beckoned you closer to the makeshift infirmary setup. You stepped forward, feeling the eyes of other sailors at the door, their curiosity piqued by the unusual sight of a young woman taking on such a task.

The space was cramped but functional, with a single window that let in just enough light to illuminate the small cot and the table beside it, where various salves and bandages were laid out. A pungent smell of seaweed-based salve filled the air, a concoction that the sailors used in emergencies, its green paste stark against the weathered wood.

The young stable boy on the cot was pale, his brow glistening with sweat as he drifted in and out of consciousness. His breathing was labored, the rise and fall of his chest uneven and strained. The infected cut, a jagged tear on his leg, looked angry and red, oozing signs of infection.

The old sailor explained, his voice gruff but not unkind, "Cut himself on a line. Thought it was just a scratch, but it got worse. We've been trying to keep it clean with what we've got here," he gestured to a bowl of mashed seaweed paste.

With a nod, you approached the table, your hands steady as you began mixing the paste anew, enhancing it with some of the clean bandages to create a more absorbent, medicinal dressing. The room was silent save for the occasional creak of the ship and the soft murmur of the sailors outside.

As you worked, focusing intently on cleaning and dressing the wound, you found yourself slipping into a rhythm. With each swipe of the cloth, your movements became more confident, more assured.

You were vaguely aware of Telemachus conversing quietly with the sailor, pulling him back slightly to give you space, his presence reassuring but unobtrusive.

As you applied the paste and secured the bandage, your focus was so intense that the rest of the room seemed to fall away. You barely noticed Telemachus' quiet discussions or the slight shuffle of the other sailors at the doorway. Your fingers moved with a precision you hadn't known you possessed, tracing patterns instinctively, almost as if guided by some unseen force.

Suddenly, as you murmured an indistinguishable phrase under your breath—a chant or prayer you didn't consciously recall learning—the air around you seemed to thicken. The change was almost palpable, the atmosphere charged with a strange energy.

The boy on the cot gasped, his body reacting instantly. His legs twitched, his face contorting in discomfort, and he let out a sharp yelp. "It's burning!" he cried out, his voice laced with sudden panic.

You pushed his leg gently but firmly back down, maintaining the pressure as your hands continued their work, still caught in a trance-like state. Your focus didn't waver, even as cries of concern erupted around you.

The old sailor, along with a few others who had crowded around the door, started shouting, alarmed by the boy's reaction. They made motions to intervene, their faces marked with worry and confusion.

However, Pisistratus, Telemachus, and Callias quickly moved to block them, forming a human barrier between you and the sailors. Pisistratus cast a worried glance over his shoulder but remained steadfast, his posture showing a trust in your actions despite the apparent chaos.

Telemachus' voice, low and calm, reassured the onlookers without pulling your attention away from your task. "Give her space," he urged them, his tone firm yet soothing. "She knows what she's doing."

Callias, though clearly anxious, nodded along, adding his assurance to the murmuring crowd. "Just wait," he said, his voice a blend of hope and confidence.

Eventually, the boy fell silent, and you let out a sharp gasp, exiting the trance. Breathing shallowly, you backed away from the bed, disoriented.  Telemachus was the first to come to you, his voice cutting through your haze, "Are you alright?" His hand was on your arm, steadying you as you took a deep, shaky breath.

Callias hurried over, looking equally worried, waving his hands frantically at the other sailors. "One of you muscleheads bring a damn chair!" he called out, then turned back to you with a concerned frown. "You need to sit down for a moment, yeah?"

Just then, the old sailor who had been attending the boy rushed back to the bedside. His attention was fixed on the young boy, who began to stir, his eyes blinking open weakly. The room fell into a tense silence as Pisistratus slowly peeled away the bandage, revealing the wound beneath.

There was a collective gasp from everyone on that side of the room, and their heads snapped around to look at you. It was only then, as you looked up, wondering why everything had gone silent, that you noticed their stares.

You took a step back, your voice trembling with growing anxiety as you asked, "What happened? Why is everyone staring?" The room was unnervingly quiet, every eye locked on you, their expressions a mixture of astonishment, disbelief, and something else you couldn't quite place. It made your skin prickle, your heart thudding erratically in your chest.

A familiar hand found your shoulder, its warmth steadying you just enough to turn. Telemachus was there, his grip firm but gentle, his expression somewhere between awe and worry. But what struck you most was where his gaze was fixed—not on your face, but on something above your head.

"What is it?" you asked, your words faltering as his lips parted, though no sound came out. His hand dropped from your shoulder as his attention remained riveted on the space just above you.

Unable to bear the suspense, you followed his gaze, tilting your head slightly upward. The breath hitched in your throat.

Above you, faint but undeniable, a shimmering sigil seemed to hang in the air. It pulsed softly, glowing like the first rays of dawn breaking over the horizon.

The symbol itself was indistinct, shifting in form like ripples on water, yet it radiated a golden light that bathed the room in an ethereal glow. The sunlight streaming through the window behind you only amplified the effect, cascading over you in a heavenly beam that made the glow more vivid, more otherworldly.

The silence was broken by a low, breathless exclamation from Callias. "Zeus' blazing balls!" he murmured, his usual lighthearted tone replaced with raw disbelief.

You blinked, disoriented, as the rest of the room began to move. The sailors and Pisistratus instinctively stepped back, parting like waves as though giving you space—or maybe distance. Their wide-eyed stares spoke volumes, their astonishment palpable in the air between you.

It was only then that you noticed their movement revealed the boy on the cot, now fully visible. Your heart pounded as you forced yourself forward, each step feeling heavier than the last. The glow around you persisted, but your focus zeroed in on the boy, on what everyone else seemed to be fixated on.

You reached the side of the cot, your breath shallow, your pulse hammering in your ears. The old sailor knelt beside the boy, his weathered hands trembling as he carefully peeled away the remaining bandage from the wound. What lay beneath made you gasp.

Smooth skin, unmarred and whole, stretched where the infection and gash had once been. Not even a scar remained. It was as if the injury had never existed.

"Gods," someone whispered, the word reverent and heavy in the stillness.

"It's gone," another voice said, louder this time, the disbelief clear.

Your knees felt weak as you stared, your mind struggling to catch up with what your eyes were telling you. The boy's chest rose and fell in even, steady breaths, his fevered flush now replaced by a soft, healthy hue. He stirred faintly, mumbling something under his breath, but his pain was gone.

You glanced around the room, searching for answers in the faces of those present, but all you found were awestruck expressions and more questions than you had yourself.

Telemachus' voice broke through the haze, soft but steady. "____," he said, his tone filled with both reassurance and wonder. "That... was you."

Before you could process his words, the old sailor, still by the boy's bedside, drew everyone's attention. His gaze was fixed on the shimmering sigil floating above your head as he straightened, his hand trembling slightly as he pointed toward you.

"This... This hasn't happened since Delphi. The oracle..." He trailed off, the weight of his words filling the room like a tangible presence.

The moment he finished speaking, the sigil above your head began to dissolve. It shimmered faintly, scattering like golden dust that drifted down and disappeared as it touched your skin. You felt an odd warmth, almost like a soft embrace, as the energy dissipated into the air around you.

The weight of their stares, the enormity of what had just occurred—it was too much.

Telemachus must have seen the panic in your eyes because his hand was suddenly on your shoulder again, grounding you. "____," he said softly, his voice steady. "You've done enough. Let Callias take you back to the palace. You need to rest."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. Callias stepped forward, his usual lighthearted demeanor tempered with concern. "He's right," he said, his tone surprisingly firm. "Come on. Let's get you something to eat. You look like you're about to keel over."

Reluctantly, you nodded, the weight of the moment still pressing heavily on your chest. Callias gently took your arm, guiding you away from the cot. As he led you toward the ship's exit, you could feel the eyes of everyone in the room following your every step, the air heavy with unspoken questions.

The last thing you saw before leaving was Telemachus, still standing by the boy, his expression a mixture of pride and quiet determination as he faced the sailors.

Callias' hand was a steady presence on your arm as he walked beside you. "We'll get you sorted," he said quietly, his usual teasing tone absent. "Don't worry about anything else right now."

You didn't respond, too caught up in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

As you walked away from the ship, the commotion and intense emotions slowly faded into the background, replaced by a quieter tension that hung between you and Callias. He seemed to sense your need for distraction, his usual banter giving way to a silence that felt both heavy and comforting.

"Hey," Callias suddenly broke the silence, a hint of his usual mischief creeping back into his tone. "Think you could heal a cut on my finger I got earlier?" He held out his hand, wiggling his fingers with a poorly masked grin.

You glanced at his hand, then up at his expectant face, and despite everything, a reluctant smile tugged at your lips. Shaking your head slightly, you rolled your eyes at his dramatics, letting out a faint chuckle. "It's not as simple as just touching you and going 'heal'," you replied, playing along. You reached out and mockingly grabbed his hand, waving your other hand over it with exaggerated mystical flair.

For a moment, you both stared at his hand, the playfulness of the act hanging in the air. Then, to your mutual surprise, the small cut on his finger seemed to fade right before your eyes.

Both of you paused, your eyes widening as you looked from his now smooth skin back up to each other's faces.

"Did you—" Callias started, his voice a mixture of disbelief and awe.

"I��I didn't think that would actually work," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, a nervous laugh escaping you as the reality of your new abilities began to sink in a little more deeply.

The levity of the joke gave way to a deeper, more profound awareness of the power you might truly possess.

☆

☆

Later that night in the courtyard, the chill of the evening seeped into your bones as you strummed your divine lyre, trying to recapture the comfort it usually brought.

Throughout the afternoon, you and Callias had playfully tested your newfound healing ability—repairing small scratches and soothing minor aches: a scrape Callias had from brushing too roughly against a stone wall, a small burn on your finger bringing dinner.

Each attempt involved a touch, a whisper, a concentration that felt deeper than thought, and each time, the skin under your fingers knit together seamlessly, leaving behind no trace of injury. The success left you both exhilarated and a bit bewildered. Callias, in particular, seemed to find it a mix of fantastic and terrifying.

But the moment Callias jokingly suggested leaping from the palace's highest wall to see if you could mend a broken bone, you had firmly put an end to the testing. His laughter echoed in your memory, light but laced with an edge of genuine curiosity about the limits of your powers.

Now, as you sat alone under the vast, star-strewn sky, the notes from your lyre didn't flow as they usually did. The strings vibrated under your fingers, producing the correct sounds, yet they felt hollow, disconnected from the magic that usually danced in their harmonies.

Sighing, you set the lyre down next to you on the cool stone, the instrument emitting a soft, mournful twang as it settled against the courtyard's floor.

Leaning back on your hands, you tilted your face towards the heavens, a breeze sweeping across the courtyard, carrying the crisp promise of winter. The cool air tugged at your shawl, pulling it tighter around your shoulders.

Despite the cold, you remained outside, gazing upwards, lost in thought. The day's revelations—the glowing sigil, the undeniable proof of your divine favor, the way people had stared—had weighed heavily on you, a blend of wonder and worry that was hard to untangle.

But as you gazed up at the stars, your mind drifted to Telemachus, causing a different kind of flutter in your heart.

Strumming the lyre, a familiar warmth pooled into your fingertips, the notes resonating under the starry canvas. Instinctively, you began to sing softly, your voice barely above a whisper, crafting lines about Telemachus—about how what you once feared was unrequited love might not be so unreturned after all.

"In the quiet night, under the watchful stars, Whisper his name, a wish spoken to the sky, Could the heart's silent yearning be heard afar? In the soft glow of Venus, might love reply?"

Each note wove through the cool night, a silent confession to the stars, a hope whispered to the cosmos that perhaps, just perhaps, your heart's desires were not as distant as the stars you spoke to.

As the last notes of your song drifted into the cool night air, you released a heavy sigh, feeling a mix of relief and lingering nerves. Just then, a voice as smooth and sharp as a blade sliced through the quiet. "So you're the 'muse' that has caught my brother's eye?"

Startled, you sit up straight.

From around the shadow of a towering cypress tree stepped a figure—tall, imposing, her presence commanding the space as if she owned it. Her skin glowed under the moonlight, a deep, rich bronze, and her eyes, a piercing and vibrant shade of gold, fixed on you like a predator eying its prey.

Sleek black hair fell in waves down her shoulders, with strands subtly braided with silver threads that glinted in the dim light. Her attire was a mix of elegance and practicality, a dark, flowing robe that did nothing to hinder her graceful, assured movements.

With a few deliberate steps, she circled you, her gaze never wavering, her body language exuding a mix of curiosity and barely restrained power. Finally, she stopped in front of you, giving a small, almost mocking bow of her head. "I am Artemis," she stated bluntly, her voice holding a trace of challenge. "Tell me, what intentions do you harbor towards my brother?"

Caught off guard, you scrambled to find words that might soothe the goddess' evident suspicion. "I... I respect him deeply," you began, your voice quivering under the intensity of her stare. "Apollo has shown me nothing but kindness. I admire him, truly, but my feelings... they are of respect and gratitude, nothing that would dishonor him or the divine."

Artemis circled you slowly, her movements deliberate, like a huntress stalking her prey. "Respect and gratitude," she repeated, her voice dripping with skepticism. "Yet those are words easily spoken. What of actions? Apollo might be swayed by mortal affections, but do not think such affections hold weight without true reverence."

Your heart pounded as you attempted to defend your stance, aware that every word would be scrutinized. "I-I'm learning, Artemis. Every day, with every encounter. I want to honor him properly, to show my reverence not just in words but in deeds. If I have faltered, it is not from a lack of will."

Her gold eyes locked onto yours, searching, probing for any hint of deceit. "And will you commit to learning our ways? To truly understanding what it means to honor a god?" she asked, her gaze unyielding.

With a nod, you replied, your voice steadier as resolve strengthened your words. "Yes, I will. I promise to learn and to honor him as is fitting. Not just Apollo, but all the gods."

Finally, staring at you, Artemis chuffed softly, her head tilting as her lips pulled up into a half-smirk. The skepticism in her eyes seemed to melt away, replaced by a flicker of amusement, perhaps even a trace of respect. "He could have chosen far worse," she admitted, her voice carrying a rare warmth. "It seems my brother sees more in you than I first believed."

With a graceful nod, she stepped back, the moon casting her long shadow across the grass. "Prove yourself worthy of his favor... and perhaps mine as well," she added, her tone now carrying a challenge that seemed more playful than daunting.

Then, in a display befitting a goddess of the hunt, Artemis transformed. Her form shimmered, and where the mighty huntress had stood, a majestic silver stag now took her place. The stag glanced back at you once, its eyes glowing with the same intense gold as Artemis', before it turned and leapt gracefully into the trees, disappearing as swiftly as it had appeared.

Left alone in the quiet of the night, you were left to ponder her words and the surreal encounter, the image of the silver stag etched into your memory, a reminder of the divine world that had briefly intersected with your own.

A/N: trying my hand at being mythcial and shit 😭 also, if you guess haven't seen my version of artemis from 'catch me if you can' i just was trying my creative hand to make artemis embody the complete opposite of apollo—where he's (supposedly) all blinding light and overwhelming ego, she's cool moonlight and quiet, commanding authority. literally leaning into their polar opposites—day and night, sun and moon—really brought her to life for me. 😩

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight apad-ravya suckerforblondies jolixtreesunn dreamtheatre

[hooked-on-elvis]

Saturday, August 18, 1956: Elvis at the Knickerbocker Hotel in Hollywood, by photographer Ed Braslaff

The "Rooftop Glamour" photo shoot 🥹

MARTY LACKER "On those first two movies, Elvis stayed at the Hollywood Knickerbocker, on Ivar Avenue. His parents went, too. Elvis rented the whole eleventh floor. He'd sit up there and write his name in lighter fluid on the glass-top coffee table, and then set it on fire, watch it blaze. Girls remember stuff like that. Then, for "Loving You", he moved to the Beverly Wilshire. That was his home in Hollywood until he started renting houses in the sixties." — As told on "Elvis Aaron Presley: Revelations from the Memphis Mafia" by Alanna Nash

Principal filming on "The Reno Brothers" (original title for "Love Me Tender" movie) began August 22, in Hollywood, and finished up on September 21, 1956. This photo shoot happened on the weekend right before the first week of filming Elvis' first movie could begin. Imagine how he was feeling! Yet, he looked so natural in all pictures. Not a sign on anxiety can be seen through his pictures.

Once the filming of "Love Me Tender" had begun, Reporter Patricia Vernon (from The New York Herald Tribune) was sent to interview Elvis on the set.

Patricia asked Elvis if he thought he was a Sex Symbol to kids, as some psychiatrist said at the time.

Elvis: "Someone should put those psychos on a long couch and tell them a thing or two," he said. "They all think Ah'm a sex maniac. they're just frustrated old types, anyway. Ah'm just natural."

On the interview moment, Patricia shared:

He gave me the heavy-lidded look again. "You don't love me," he said accusingly. I told him I didn't love anyone on such short notice. "Ah bet you'd like me if Ah tried," he said. "Ah'm just teasin' now, but Ah'd be sweet and you'd like me because Ah was sweet, wouldn't you?" (If I was her: 🫠) He was teasing, but underneath I sensed the desire of a small boy seeking approval. Then he went out to meet two young fans who wanted their picture taken with him. He told me to stay where I was, that he'd be right back. "I RAN FOR MY LIFE." Excerpt from the 1956 All Elvis Magazine "HERO or HEEL"

That photo shoot is beyond amazing. Elvis was so natural in front of a camera right from the very start of his career, it's incredible. He totally was born to be an public figure. There's a few more wonderful pictures on this day, but only 30 is allowed here (what a shame). Side note: The last photo is merely for historical purposes. 🫠

[nightmareonpeachstreet]

pictured: me going to the edge of the map in every zone as if Fontaine is just already there and all I have to do is find it

[shawolsos]

Currently losing my mind over the fact that Zaylena might ACTUALLY happen like no fucking way

[cannotflyarc]

tags; verses

*❈ ‣ you sigh before your window and gaze upon the town — ( v: canon. )  

*❈ ‣ had no way to guide you so i sang day in‚ day out. i thought i'd drop and still i sang. — ( v: foggs. ) 

*❈ ‣ and we’ll sail the world and see its wonders‚ from the pearls of spain to the rubies of tibet — ( v: post. ) 

*❈ ‣ isn’t that her dainty footstep on the stair? yes‚ isn’t that her shadow on the wall? — ( v: alternate. )  

*❈ ‣ how i would like to have wings – blue ones – how i would like to open them and raise — ( v: modern. )

*❈ ‣ if we lay a strong enough foundation‚ we’ll pass it on to you. we’ll give the world to you. — ( v: single mother. )

*❈ ‣ she's been living in her white-bread world as long as anyone with hot blood can — ( v. hawkins )  

*❈ ‣ don’t need a ring for my finger just need a steady hand to hold — ( v: main. feat. heygutlcss )    

*❈ ‣ chasing our heart’s desire but we go on pretending stories like ours have happy endings — ( v: affair. feat. heygutlcss ) 

*❈ ‣ i believed i had a choice til the music in her voice turned my whole world around — ( v: singer. feat. heygutlcss )    

*❈ ‣ i know you‚ you know me. one thing i can tell you is you got to be free — ( v: feat. honorhearted )

*❈ ‣ the world was my oyster but where was the pearl? who dreamed i could find it? — ( v: feat. iocaneimmune )  

*❈ ‣ if you love me tell me that you love me. if you don't just tell me that you do. — ( v: workhouse. feat. heygutlcss ) 

*❈ ‣ and even if the dream were not impossible‚ i know too well the ending would be sad — ( v: feat. gamblecity. )  

*❈ ‣ for somebody i thought was my savior‚ you sure make me do a whole lot of labor — ( v: feat. whenjet )  

*❈ ‣ i had this feeling as i was falling the sound across the bay was the sound of you calling — ( v: great gatsby. feat. playboths )

*❈ ‣ only we know what we’ve both been through‚ if i save you will you save me too? — ( v: main. feat. playboths ) 

*❈ ‣ this was an escape plan‚ carefully timed it‚ so let me go and dive into the waves below — ( v: panem. )

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 01. IN DREAMS WE REST

a/n: i've been stressed about this fic probably more than any other i've ever written. not because it's logan per se, but because wade wilson makes me want to rip my hair out. i love that bastard, but writing him feels like pulling teeth. i'm in love with this concept solely for the angst, so if you see more throughout and wonder if they will ever get a happy ending, please know i'm dead inside. enjoy!

summary: stuck in another universe and unsure of where he stands, logan expects things to even out as they always did. but when you cross his path and you have no idea who he is, he's in for a rude awakening.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, angst, cussing so much cussing, alcohol consumption, grief, pain, a broken man pretending he's not broken, chance encounters, awkward conversations, hope.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He can hear it when he sleeps.

Their screams.

The constant ring of agony that chimes out like a bell, an alarm he never set for himself. A joke once told to him in the midst of World War II, as bullets flew by him and soldiers lost their lives each second of each day. There's no escape from hell. No running from the devil that nipped at his heels the faster he went, the longer he tried to navigate a way free.

There's no escape from the memories that ate away in his mind. Multitudes of them, of the faces he once called family, the people he used to love. They were his punishment. The boulder he continued to roll up the hill, day after day after day. Until eventually...he was crushed by his own self-hatred.

"Logan." The voice whispered long enough for him to grasp who it might be, yet never louder than a mere breath of air.

He clung to it some days. Sunk his claws into what little of his past remained good and allowed it to fill him with some amount of peace. At least then he'd be able to bear this weight, this grief he could never quite name.

Something light brushed across his cheek. Tickling the skin enough to send a flare of irritation down his spine, but the dreams held him in their grasp. What came next never surprised him. He expected it at this point—longed for it. The distant pain of losing what once made him whole; the entirety of his life now defined by one single moment he could never change.

"He sleeps so sweetly. I just want to curl up in his arms and have him read me bedtime stories."

"He's not gonna like that when he wakes up."

"Zip it Al. If I wanted an opinion, I'd go see a Hollywood therapist."

A scoff echoed in the background. "No therapist wants you on their couch."

"Not true. I hear Ryan Reynolds has a great one."

"Who?"

"Not the point." The feather dusted across Logan's face again, soft enough to keep him asleep yet annoying enough to bring a smile to Wade's face. "I wonder if he's dreaming about killing bad guys. They say it's good for the soul."

"Who the fuck is they?"

Wade laughed. "Oh you know. Them. The readers. And boy howdy do they love their blood."

Every day he was forced to listen to Wade's voice became another day Logan dragged his claw through a tally mark of his sanity. "Do you ever shut the fuck up," he growled, gripping Wade's wrist until he heard the satisfying crack of bones.

"Only when I swallow."

"I'll tear your fuckin' arm off."

The smile on Wade’s face only added another tally. "Nice kitty. No need for the claws."

Anger washed across his skin in a familiar wave as he released Wade's arm, watching it go limp. Trying to kill the unkillable walking irritation was like trying to swat a fly that never quite died. It still buzzed incessantly. Until eventually madness was the only viable option of dealing with it. In his case, he seemed to be driving head on with no brakes.

Logan wasn't sure he possessed enough sanity left within him to keep dealing with this. Sleeping on the couch didn't help the way his body never rested; always stuck in that permanent fighting mode. He'd give anything to find some peace. A small sliver of it carved off the past that continued to call him—that begged him to come back and try again.

Swinging his legs off the couch, he planted a swift kick to Wade's chest that sent him across the floor. The lack of caffeine in his system left everything hazy and half coherent. If he focused he might have caught the keys thrown at him, but being exhausted and sober didn't make for a good combination with him. An empty whiskey bottle lay discarded on the floor from last night; the memories of how he passed out barely tinged on the edge of his mind.

He could recall stabbing Wade in the leg.

Nothing beyond that.

Dried blood—now an ugly brown—stained his white shirt. He nearly stripped himself of it, prepared to throw it in with whoever was washing next, but his flannel being chucked at his head caught him off guard.

"Fuck off," he snapped, stumbling to the kitchen.

Wade sighed, following him. "Get dressed, peanut. We have to go do human things today."

"Human–”

"Food," Al retorted. "We're out."

Even in a new universe, he couldn't see himself acting normal. For so long he did what had to in order to survive. Yet now...he wasn't so sure. Accompanying Wade Wilson in order to complete household chores left a bad taste in his mouth. But the thought of fresh coffee and an unopened bottle of whiskey sounded like sweet silver bells in his head.

With reluctance, he buttoned up half of the flannel before he became annoyed with the small size of the holes punched into the fabric. There was only so much he could do with the life he had now. And sometimes shit really sucked.

"Don't scratch my fucking car," Al pointed her words towards Wade, thankfully ignoring Logan's existence for a brief moment.

"Is it safe for her to own a car?"

The door shut behind him with a bang, echoing down the vacant hallway. He was surprised people actually lived here given Wade's antics. They could hear the loud mouthed fucker across the street—if the angry notes in the mail were anything to go by. He didn't bother asking if he should be concerned with any of it. Not when he had no say in how the house was run. And choosing to insert himself where he wasn’t needed, rarely went well for him.

"God no. But I give her the benefit of the doubt. She hasn't killed anyone. Yet."

He yanked the keys out of Wade's hand. "Yeah well I don't trust you either Bub."

The car didn't leave room for his legs as he squeezed into the driver's side. His body practically folded in half as he turned it over—the rumble of the engine rattling against metal. How Blind Al managed to pay for this vehicle went beyond even Wade's knowledge, and in all honesty…he was too fucking scared to ask.

Too much seemed to be happening for him to ever catch up. While this Earth felt similar to his, small things were different. And when they began to add up...he began to wonder if he was drowning.

"Turn left to merge onto the asscrack of traffic."

He barely heard the directions as he drove, his mind drifting the further they went. Part of him sensed the grief from earlier begin to claw up the back of his throat. It begged him to fall, to be swallowed whole by the darkness he'd been stuck in before. And he nearly gave in; could feel his body shift into its constant mode of fight or flight.

The steering wheel cracked under his white knuckled grip as Wade's voice became an afterthought to the war he fought in his mind. Terror trapped itself in his throat and he slammed his foot on the brakes a foot away from a parking spot in retaliation. The car lurched forward, his claws descended. A snarl rumbled in his chest the longer he sat there thinking.

"Woah..." For the first time in days, Wade fell silent. "You alright?"

Logan ripped himself free, shoving his body out of the car before he even threw it in park. He gulped in breath after breath and did his best to wait for this fucking feeling to leave his system. The nightmares only came as he slept. A constant familiar horror show after two centuries.

Yet now he was left like this. Leaned up against a car, his eyes closed shut, and heart racing.

All because he couldn't do his fucking job.

"Logan–"

He snapped, shoving past Wade and his pity that choked him with a vengeance. He didn't deserve anyone's pity. He didn't want it. But people couldn't help but hand it over unconsciously. As if they could see the layers of broken pieces beneath his false expression of strength. Logan never pretended to be okay. Why bother with something people could see right through?

He merely wanted others to ignore he was there. Walk past him, look through him, do whatever it took to pretend that him and all his tragedies weren't standing before them. Because one day he would die and fuck how he couldn't wait for that time to come.

A small hole in the wall dive bar sat in the corner of the shopping center. He barely caught sight of it. But the unmistakable scent of alcohol poured out the door as someone stumbled out—their eyes squeezed shut against the harsh brightness of the sun. He could understand them in a way.

His world didn't have sunlight this bright. Or perhaps he never noticed it ‘til now.

Maybe his body wasn't acclimated yet; unsure of what the fuck was still happening. Everything seemed to be turned up to eleven for him, yet no off switch existed.

The dark hazy glow of the interior sent a wave of calm through him as the door swung shut with a soft thud. Four people sat scattered around the place and a bartender with white and graying hair stood cleaning a glass so foggy it was probably better to throw it out. He found himself letting out a breath that'd been trapped in his chest since that morning. Finally some peace before he had to listen to Wade yap about bullshit he didn't in fact give a shit about.

"What'll you have?" the old man asked, his face screwing up in a wince as he limped towards Logan's spot at the end of the bar.

A quick glance down let him see the brace wrapped around the man's knee. "Whiskey on the rocks."

He nodded, slowly heading towards the center of the wall—a lonesome half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. Logan shifted, taking the center seat directly behind the man.

"I can't say I've seen you around before son."

He grinned, his finger tracing a random carving that'd been placed in the wood. "I just moved here. Living with a coworker."

"Coworker huh?"

The word didn't sound right to Logan, but he couldn't exactly call Wade his friend. Although they were more than people who fought together, more than men who shared blood during the same battle. That was the thing about Logan though. He'd never be able to put a label on something like that. To him...things weren't one or the other as much as he wanted to pretend they were. There was nuance to his life.

Complications which made living that much harder.

The man turned, surprised to see Logan so close, but didn't make note of it. Logan could see the gratitude in the way his drink was slid carefully to him. The small silent thank you in the bowl of pretzels placed beside it.

"You look lost."

Logan grunted, biting into the salty and dry snack. "Do I?"

"More than some of the others that come around here."

"And who comes around here?"

The man laughed. "No one as of late. You're the first young man I've seen in a while walk through those doors."

He bit back his laugh at the word young. The stories he could tell would leave the man baffled. About wars that no living person had witnessed. About when the world was far different than today—when mutants were freaks of nature and humans were far less forgiving. He could list it all and then some.

But whether or not someone would listen was another thing entirely.

"This place that old?" he inquired, sipping on the amber liquid with a contented sigh.

"Oh you bet." A weary laugh filled the space. "I bought this place in the sixties. When my wife was still my girlfriend. She almost left me because of it."

Logan huffed, his lips curling slightly. "She wasn't a fan?"

The man shook his head, tossing a cloth over his shoulder. "Still isn't. Well she...wasn't." He pressed his thumb to the worn gold band on his left hand. "When she was alive she used to host a book night. Helped bring in the men's wives. Kept them outta trouble."

"Book night huh?"

"She loved to read."

Before he could down the final sips of his drink it was topped off. Logan nodded his head in thanks, his thumb digging into the thumbprint shape of the glass. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost see himself coming here every night. He pictured a life far different than his own, a past where he might have been happy. With someone who might have even made him smile.

"I'm not much of a reader," he replied, his voice hoarse and eyes fixed on the ice that floated to the surface.

"Ah me too," the man laughed. "I just liked seeing her smile."

A soft remark was on the tip of his tongue before an entirely new image began to take shape. The face of someone lost. Of a smile he'd known better than his own. Hands that once held his face with the tenderness of a lover—a voice that sent the hair rising on the back of his neck. He could see it as clear as he did the man.

You in all your beauty. Lost to a past he could no longer rectify.

He swallowed thickly, beating back every emotion that crawled under his skin. "What's your name?"

"Travis."

Raising his glass, he tipped it towards the man with a tight grin. "Logan." The alcohol went down with a quick and biting burn. A feeling he'd grown familiar with. One he counted on.

"Nice to meet you Logan."

"Yeah you too."

He dug out some cash and tossed it on the bar as he stood with a slight grunt. He may heal quickly but the ache in his bones still existed. As if something resisted against how his body moved with each slow shift.

Fighting meant he could ignore it.

Existing is what made it worse.

The sun practically burned his eyes when he stepped out, the heat of the day encompassing his whole body quicker than he would have liked. For some unknown fucking reason, summer here felt worse than on his Earth. Then again the alcohol didn't help. He stood in the shade of the building next to the bar, searching the parking lot for any sign of Wade.

Going into the store wasn't an option and as much as he wanted to leave the annoyance behind, he didn't want to feel like a piece of shit. That is...even more than he already did.

"Fuck," he hissed, leaning against the brick wall. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

One option would be taking a walk to work off the energy that ran through his veins. At least then he'd be able to sleep at night. And the temptation almost worked. If it weren't for the shop doors that opened to his left, effectively distracting him from the chance of leaving. He could have ignored the person, probably should have given everything he'd been through.

But then his heart dropped to his stomach as you walked out. He'd never seen you in such a soft sundress before, the off white fabric draped off your curves in a way that floored him. As if you were an angel floating by without a care in the world. You were busy shoving a small piece of paper in your purse, your face furrowed in frustration, and Logan smiled. Because he'd traced each line of that face before, he'd kissed those cheeks, your eyelids as you slept.

He'd loved you in ways that would scare a normal human.

And there you were.

"Honey?" he called, unconsciously following you quicker than he intended to. "Honey."

You glanced to the side, completely unaware of the giant lumbering man trailing after you with a soft look on his face and hope in his hands.

That alone tore him in two more than the memories from before.

"Baby, it's me."

The breeze finally went through the air, pushing the skirt of your dress a bit higher on your thighs. Except that's not what he latched onto. Your scent was different. Unlike any he'd encountered before. Honey still sweetly caressed his senses, but flowers overlayed that—peonies if he guessed. Delicious enough to have his mouth watering; his body already aching for you to be closer. To look at him in the way you used to.

He wanted to call out to you—gain your attention properly—but your name wouldn't leave his tongue. Because you were there and you finally caught sight of him and you were looking at him as if nothing bad ever happened between the two of you.

You saw him as a man.

Not a disappointment.

He willed himself to stop and breathe. Take in his surroundings; realize that you weren't who he once knew. You weren't even the same fucking person.

But before he could think straight, he'd already followed you halfway to your car. His eyes were dazed, heart nearly throttling him alive as he stood there dumbly. Waiting for you to finally speak.

"Oh..." Your heart rate spiked quicker than he expected. He couldn't find it in himself to feel bad though. "Hello?"

"Honey," he sighed, the weight on his shoulders lifting ever so slightly.

He caught the way your fingers tightened around your keys, the defense mechanism an instinct by now. And Logan realized what he looked like. A strange man standing too close for your liking. So he took a step back and gave you some space. In the hopes that you wouldn't see him as a threat. That maybe...you'd listen to what he had to say.

"Can I help you?" you asked, eyes darting around the parking lot in case you needed help.

What he wouldn't give for the opportunity to reassure you. To explain that he wasn't here to hurt you. That he'd kill himself before even laying a hand on you. Yet the correct words were lost and all he seemed to get out was an incoherent babble that had him wanting to dig his own claws into his chest.

"You smell different."

You straightened your spine, eyes narrowed into a glare he felt burn across his skin. "Look, I don't know who you are. But fuck off."

Something akin to pride flared in his chest at your tone, your words. But he couldn't show it externally. How would he explain that your fight—your fire—is what drew him to you in the first place? How could he tell you about a version of yourself you'd never know? A person he thought would be with him until his last breath exhaled into the world.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He raised his hands in an attempt to prove his point, but like your variant counterpart you were willing to bite first and ask questions later.

"Yeah. Sure asshole." The shopping bag in your other hand was lifted up, until you had a tighter grip on it in case something happened. You didn't know him. You probably never would.

But Logan had to try. He owed it to you to give it all he had this time around.

Otherwise...what was the point of living?

"My name's–" He made the wrong move stepping forward and knew it the second his boot hit the gravel. With a wince, he watched you stumble back against your car, your arm coming up to protect yourself. "No. Look I'm not gonna do anything–"

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit.

He moved back as if approaching a wounded animal—his body finally on edge in a new way. The fact that you didn't know him wasn't what broke off another chunk of his heart. He could handle that. He'd been through that.

You were afraid of him.

That realization dug in too deep for his body to heal.

That...he couldn't live with.

"WOAH hey!" He'd never appreciated Wade's irritating ass more than in this moment. He jumped between the two of you, the cart of groceries forgotten as he blocked Logan from your sight. "Step away from the nice lady wolf boy." Wade regarded you with a smile. "Hi! Sorry. This is my uncle and well as you can probably tell he's lost eight of his lives. So we're going on little old nine. And well the mind just goes to shit first."

Seconds passed by like minutes and Logan watched you visibly deflate. "Wade," you greeted him, visibly calmer than before. Logan felt his stomach twist violently at the thought. "It's good to see you. How's the job?"

"Oh yup you know. Left that. But I'm really pushing through. I've got an Etsy store where I sell miniature paintings of Michael Angelo's David's penis. So there's that."

Your laughter sent a hole through his chest and Logan bit back the growl that rose up the back of his throat. What the fuck was Wade doing making friends with you? Why were you laughing at his humor?

He couldn't count how many days he'd spent longing to hear your laugh again, the shine in your eyes that always came around when joy flooded your bloodstream. He could smell the honey off your skin, the warmth of what no doubt lay beneath your thin dress. And he wanted to rip Wade to pieces knowing that he was the one making it happen. That you were comfortable with a man who's mouth ran at a mile a minute.

"Did your sister have the baby yet?"

You brightened and Logan felt his heart stutter. "She did! A boy."

"Named Wade I hope."

Another peal of laughter had Logan's claws itching to descend as you ignored he was there. "Theo actually. A cutie."

"Aww." Wade moved closer, head bent to see the small polaroid you pulled out of your wallet. "Wow, he looks like you'd find him in a Gerber's advertisement."

Your eyes drifted up, past Wade's shoulder, until you finally caught Logan's gaze. And he felt like he could breathe. Every ounce of fear was wiped from your face; interest now creeping in as you dragged your eyes down his form. Past the slight peek of chest hair and down to how his jeans hugged his hips. Logan stood taller for your benefit, as if he needed to make a good impression.

He wanted to linger in your mind for days. Until the curiosity ate you alive.

"We're gonna go," Wade announced, after grabbing your bag and placing it in your trunk for you. "Someone has to feed the blind woman in my apartment. She tends to root through everything looking for food." He gripped Logan's arm, shoving him back a good few feet. Even as your eyes still remained glued to his face. "Glad to see the Hyundai is still working. You know you could take the fattest fucking nap in the back of that puppy. Makes you feel like an Egyptian mummy."

"Bye," you said, a dazed look in your eyes as Logan smiled in your direction. At ease with the knowledge that even in a different universe, he could still fluster you with a look.

Dragging himself away from you was hell, but Wade's grip remained unbreakable as they clambered to the car. The groceries stacked in the small backseat.

He could glimpse you driving off and suddenly the nightmare from earlier was the last thing on his mind.

Wade's back hit the wall with a crack before the door could shut properly. The groceries in their hands toppled to the floor. He barely had time to duck before Logan's claws were aiming for his head—a snarl ripping from his throat.

"What the fuck?" Wade shouted, grabbing the paper bag and gently setting it on the table. "Next time just say you need to stay home and find some joy in an empty room and your hand."

"How do you know her?"

Wade smiled, assessing the furious state of chaos Logan was now left in. The tatters of his stability falling to the floor around him. For as much as he held himself together, it certainly remained easy enough to tear him a part.

"Got an eye on someone, do we honey badger?"

Logan grimaced, running a hand down his face. "Would you just fucking tell me?"

"Let me bask in this Logan. I'm about to watch a romcom come to life and need some popcorn." He rummaged through the bag, yanking out some chips. "Salty and sweet. That'll do."

"Wade," he bit out.

"Stick with us girls, we're about to get to the good stuff."

"WADE!"

He tossed the bag to the table, eyeing the way Logan never quite settled. "I'm gonna take a guess and say we know her more than just friendly hellos."

Logan couldn't answer because his grief did it for him. He did what he could to catch his breath, to stop seeing his version of you. The disappointment on your face, the pain in your voice. You'd been so angry with him. To watch the person he loved be reduced to a screaming crying mess wasn't something he wanted to relive, but Wade's question seemed to send an avalanche toppling to the ground.

"She's..." He sucked in a breath. "On my world. I...knew her."

"Knew her? Or knew her."

He reached for the bottle of whiskey Wade threw in with the rest of the groceries and popped it open before he spoke again. "It didn't end well between us. None of it did."

Wade fell silent and Logan found himself loathing the quiet more than the sound of his voice. If he was joking Logan could ignore it. He could pretend nothing happened. That you weren't here, you couldn't be hurt by him again.

You were safe from his destructive tendencies as long as you were in another universe.

"She lives across the street." Logan's head rose and whipped to see the window that faced the building across from them. "The old uncultured shit whistles that keep complaining about WHAM! the greatest thing to happen to music. They're her neighbors. Live right next door."

"Neighbors."

Wade nodded, offering him a chip. "She found their note and angel that she is, she very sweetly threatened to get them evicted. I offered to let her borrow my katanas but was rejected like younger me on prom night. You've really got yourself a catch there buddy."

Logan didn't need Wade to tell him how fucking lucky he was. He knew that the second you walked out of that store. You were everything good in his life at one point, everything he couldn't save. There wasn't much keeping him going on his old Earth, but having you made all the suffering he went through—all the pain he endured—worth it.

If you were waiting for him at the end, he'd do it all over again.

"So you want to take a dip in that honey huh? Taste that rainbow?"

His claws would have sunk into Wade's throat if a knock hadn't sounded at the door. With a huff, he stepped into the kitchen, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Whoever decided to give Wade some luck was of no concern to him.

Or so he believed.

"I didn't mean to accidentally take your groceries," you laughed, handing over a overpacked paper bag.

Stuffing the bottle under the sink, he met you halfway to the living room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you still in that dress. Still delicate enough for him to rip if he tugged it right. Heat curled along the base of his spine when your eyes met his, wide and glimmering with your laughter. He felt himself crumple at the sight of your lips parting, the surprise at his size still enough to make you speechless.

"Good to see you again," he greeted you, voice low and soft.

You didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, but something about the way his gaze devoured you within seconds left you breathless. The swooping sensation in your stomach became too much to handle. Desire and attraction weren't unknown concepts to you. But this felt like more. You could sense him right down to your bones and it scared the shit out of you.

"Oh right!" Wade scooched past you to swing an arm around Logan's shoulders. He did what he could to not stab him in the stomach. "This is Logan. My hunky new roommate."

Logan groaned. "Alright–"

"No, no it's good. You remember when I was declared basically the savior of the universe?"

Your face screwed up in confusion. Logan had never wanted to kiss someone more.

"Marvel...Jesus right?"

"I prefer MJ. Since I've got a Peter." Wade's head whipped to the side. "Suck it Tom Holland." His grip on Logan tightened. "This walking People's Sexiest Magazine helped. We're talking big claws, abs you just want to lick whipped cream off of–"

Logan's elbow slammed into Wade's stomach—crimson slowly tinting the tips of his ears. "That's enough."

"AND the Wolverine."

Surprised etched itself onto your face even further. Until you finally regarded Logan with a look he'd seen once before. Awe. When you first met one another in the halls of the mansion, you stared at him that exact way. As if you couldn't quite believe that iconic figure the X-Men made him out to be actually existed.

He couldn't tell if he liked it. Or if he'd rather you view him as a stranger.

"Logan," he said, offering his hand to you politely. Your skin remained as soft as he remembered.

Warmth bloomed in your body at the feeling of his calloused palm overwhelming yours, the scars across his knuckles old and ancient. Yet you found yourself wanting to trace them over and over, until the sight of them seared in your mind. You fought the urge to press your lips to them, etch your own mark into his skin. Something told you he wouldn’t mind.

Logan could see the intrigue on your face—the distracted gaze he wanted to keep in place. You were still curious. Still willing to learn about him. To pick him a part with soft words and even softer touches.

"Logan," you murmured under your breath, your eyes catching his. He felt his stomach leap at the sound of your voice whispering his name. Memories flooding his mind quicker than he expected. Of mornings spent in bed, your skin pressed against his. Of nights alone in his cabin—your stories lulling him to sleep.

Everything he willed himself to forget, yet could never truly let go of.

"I've got to head back." Disappointment filled your heart at the thought of not getting a chance to talk to him more. He had yet to let go of your hand and you found you liked his touch on your skin. "I'll see you soon Wade."

"Logan will be more than happy to walk you back," Wade replied, waving drastically behind your back. "Can't have you getting hurt now can we? Right peanut?"

You smiled. "I'm just across the street."

"I don't mind," Logan cut in, glaring at Wade to shut the fuck up.

"Okay," your voice was soft. Happy.

Logan would have done anything to keep it that way.

The walk back wasn't long enough for him to explain his actions from earlier, but you seemed to be just as smart as your variant self. Shutting the building's door, you turned to him—your dress fluttering in the breeze. Logan choked on his spit at the slight peek of your ass before you pushed the skirt back down around you.

"Did you know me?" You lead him to the corner, waiting for the traffic to die down. "On your Earth."

He paused, his eyebrows pulling together, and for a moment you wondered if you asked the wrong question. Wade told you bits and pieces of what happened since you last saw him, but Logan's background wasn't a discussion you tried to seek out. All you knew was that Wade acquired a new roommate. Not even a name.

Certainly not that he was Wolverine.

"Yes," Logan muttered, glancing at the change in lights.

You started to walk. "In what way?"

His hands curled into fists—echoes of his past rising to the surface. "We were...friends. You're a professor."

"A professor?" you exclaimed, a smile tugging on your lips. "Am I a mutant?"

He nodded. "You're able to bend time. Or control it." He snorted, following your lead towards your building. "I could never understand it. But Charles did."

The walk up to your apartment was silent, your thoughts filled with the new information he'd given you. And no matter how hard you tried to picture it, you couldn't see yourself as a mutant. A powerful being that held the ability to manipulate time who just so happened to be a professor. Somehow even thinking about it made you wonder why Logan was bothering to entertain this version of you. When the better one existed on his Earth.

"You said were."

Stopping at your door, he nearly knocked into you. "Hm?"

"Were friends. What happened?"

The answer he couldn't give you. The words he wouldn't even admit out loud to himself.

He felt his heart twist as if a knife slowly carved through his spleen. "We uh..." He coughed. "You..."

"I don't have to know." Grasping gently onto his arm, you offered a warm smile he felt down to his toes. A look he hadn't seen in quite some time. Logan could picture the last day you were happy in his head. Laughing with Charles in his office as you shared dinner, working on theories of your powers late into the night.

A week before they came.

"It's good to see you like this," he breathed, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek before stopping midair. "Happy."

Your eyebrows knit together. "I wasn't happy?"

"No." What he wouldn't give to take that information back, but it was out in the open, and as always—he remained too late.

"Why?" you asked, your hand sliding down to his much to his delight.

"I made you a promise." He sucked in a breath, his body begging him to start running. You'd be better off if you never knew. If you never remembered him in the first place. "I couldn't keep it."

I'll always keep you safe.

Words he refused to say again.

How could he promise this version of you that? How could he look you in the eyes and lie again? Breaking his Earth's you would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't fathom doing it all over. It would kill him.

Except you weren't the person in his mind. You weren't the mutant who hated him with every fiber of your being. You were you. A continuous surprise that left his heart stuttering in his chest each time you looked his way. An enigma he found himself wanting to unravel.

"Maybe this time around you can," you said softly, letting him go with a smile as you entered your apartment, effectively opening the wound in his heart so wide there was no saving him.

Although he now knew something he didn’t know before.

He didn’t want to be saved.

[astarionxhappiness]

Summary: Astarion gets badly injured in a fight, and you have to take care of him while waiting to be found.

Word count: 5,781

Warnings: Astarion being hurt.

It was just another fight.

That was what you thought, at least.

Just another day of danger and adventure.

Never for a second when you woke up that morning did you think you and your companions would be scrambling for your lives.

"Head for the cave!" You heard Shadowheart scream to you over the sounds of the exploding fireballs.

Smoke filled the air thickly, making it hard to see. The thick smoke filled your lungs, making it hard to breath.

Your eyes darted around, trying to find the location she spoke of.

You tensed as a large hand wrapped around your bicep, making you nearly drop your weapon as you were yanked to the left.

Your gaze snapped in the direction of the newcomer, relief washing over you when you laid eyes on Astarion, though he did not seem to share this feeling.

"Things are getting far messier than I care for. I'd say it is time we leave, darling."

He kept a firm grip on your arm, pulling you through the smoke that filled your lungs painfully.

You yelped as you were both suddenly thrown forward by a violent explosion landing not two feet directly behind you, sending both of you flying forward.

The vampire managed to turn himself to land on his shoulder instead of his face, though thanks to the grip on your arm, it made it far more difficult for you to land with similar grace, instead falling direction on top of him causing him to grunt in pain.

"Has anyone ever told you that you weigh far to much to be throwing yourself on people, darling?" He questioned rhetorically, winded from the impact.

"Well next time let's try it with you catching me without my weapons and armor, hm?" You retorted, making him smile.

"Well, so long as you're offering," He replied with a sly smile.

You couldn't help letting out a breathy laugh despite the adrenaline coursing through you, smacking his arm before moving to get off of him.

You yelped when a bolt of lightning suddenly struck right beside the two of you.

You moved instinctively to shield the vampire with your body, looking down at him questioningly as the dirt settled, as though scared something had passed through you to hurt him instead.

He was already looking up at you, seeming taken aback by this show of care, still not used to such acts of love and loyalty.

Neither of you were able to dwell in the moment, though, certain that the next mage would likely not miss.

You yanked him to his feet, grabbing his hand and starting at a blind sprint, squinting through the thick black smoke.

You did not bother looking back for the others as you reached the edge of the smoke cloud, listening to the sounds of battle still going strong in the distance.

"In here," You commanded when you spotted a small hole in the rocks up ahead that you could squeeze into.

His hand still in yours, you took off running.

You were close. so close-

A cry of pain coming from your left was the first indication of something being wrong.

Your head turned, the scene playing out in slow motion before your very eyes as you watched with horror as an arrow slid through Astarion's back, the tip of it shoving violently through the front of his shirt.

Your scream sounded distant to your own ears as you quickly turned to grab him just as he started to fall, his eyes giving away the shock of being impaled.

"Shadowheart!" You screeched, struggling to keep him on his feet.

Now he was heavy.

"No- no nononono-" You felt your stomach in your throat, your heart pounding as you watched blood leaking from the elf's mouth.

"Astarion, don't you dare faint on me! " You cried, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, adrenaline driving you, giving you the strength to practically carry him to the nook that promised you both safety.

You slipped between the narrow walls of stone, panting as you carefully sat him down.

"Star, hey, look at me," You pleaded as his eyes seemed unable to focus.

"I don't. . I don't feel well, love" he murmured distractedly, sounding dazed.

"Hey, hey--look at me! It's not that bad. It's not even that bad. Just breathe," You ordered through tears that started to well in your eyes, your dirty hands coming to cup his equally messy face as you pressed your forehead to his.

"Just focus, okay? You're gonna be okay. I have some healing potions, and Shadowheart is gonna find us" Despite your assurances, you couldn't stop the sob that left you, desperately petting his face before moving off to grab the potion. "Drink, okay? Just drink." You put the rim to his lips, a hand under his chin to help him drink, using your other hand to help tilt his head back.

"Do you remember when we first met?" He murmured distractedly when he finished, his head falling back against the rock behind him.

"Yeah," You whispered. "Of course I do." You went to looking at the arrow, whimpering as you listened to him cough, a small bit of blood and liquid from the potion coming up.

"You were so unsuspecting. . I never told you this, but I always felt bad for trying to kill you. . " You looked up at him, sniffling as you leaned forward to press your face against the side of his.

"No, no don't feel bad. You aren't supposed to feel bad. You're supposed to b-be unremorseful, and cocky and-" You cut off when your throat constricted too tightly for you to speak. "Please," You whispered, letting out a soft, helpless sob. "You're gonna be okay. I don't want you to be embarrassed telling me this when you're better because you are gonna be better." You grabbed another healing potion, though you knew it was futile. The arrow he had been hit with had a poison on it. And unless you could get him a healer, no amount of the potions or magic you could offer him would fix it.

he let out a soft laugh, grimacing in pain, brows furrowing.

"I won' be embarrassed," He replied dizzily. "I want you to know that. . That I care about you, okay?" he took in a deep breath, letting out a slight laugh before whimpering in pain.

The sound shattered your heart.

He brought his hand up to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb tenderly against your soft skin, wiping away a tear.

You grabbed at his wrist with both hands, bloodying it in the process due to having been trying to mess with the wound to help it stop bleeding so much.

"I love you," You whispered. "You aren't allowed to leave me, do you understand? I won't let you. I'm gonna figure this out. We're gonna get you help." You could still hear the sounds of commotion outside, making your stomach churn.

The others could still be out there. In need of help, or dead. .

You pushed this thought away, knowing it would do nothing good to think about.

There was nothing you could do right now. You had no way to know where they were, and running back into the fight would only put yourself in danger, and possibly cause complications for the others.

You simply needed to have faith that they had made it to the cave Shadowheart had seen. Or, better yet, were heading this way now. .

"Star?" You whispered when his eyes started to lull shut.

"Astarion?" No response.

"Hey! Astarion, stay with me!" You grabbed at his shoulders as his hand slipped off your cheek, panic washing over you as you shook his upper half, careful not to cause more damage to his body as you did so.

You cursed, grabbing the knife you had from your boot and quickly cutting a line over the vein in your wrist before pressing it to his mouth, praying to god that it would give him enough strength to last a bit longer while you waited for help.

"Astarion, please wake up," You whispered desperately. "Please. . I need you."

It was a terrifying fifteen seconds before his eyes came open, having managed to get enough of the liquid down.

"Oh, thank god," You cried, keeping your wrist to his mouth, which he awkwardly adjusted around with a soft grunt

His eyes fell shut as he groaned, absently sucking, feeling far better with the strength it offered him.

"We need to get this arrow out of you," You said, looking down at it. "I'm going to need to break off the tip, and pull the sides out before I can give you the last potion. It should help with the bleeding at least."

He nodded dizzily, unable to respond verbally as he kept his mouth against your wrist.

"I'm sorry, but I am going to need both hands for this," You infromed him regreatfully, pulling away when you felt he had had enough to keep him conscious for the time being.

"Gods- Could you not have woken me up after you pulled the arrow out?" He complained as he felt you cutting into the end of the arrow sticking out of the front of his torso.

"No!" you replied heatedly. "Because I can't handle thinking I am going to lose you, and that means you are going to need to stay conscious, do you understand??" You looked up at him with what looked to be anger, but he recognized it to be pure and utter terror.

He couldn't help smiling. A truly unseemly sight due to the blood smeared over his lips, chin and teeth. Not to mention the greying notes of his skin as the poison started to take over.

Still, he was your unseemly sight. And you would do anything for the elf. Even if that meant whipping a miracle magically out of nowhere to save his sorry ass.

"Gods!" He cried out as he felt a sudden pressure on the wound when you managed to break off the arrowhead, careful not to touch it as you chucked it to the other side of the small nook.

"I know," You whispered. Pained.

"I am not entirely sure you actually do, darling," He retorted breathlessly. "I don't see an arrow sticking out of your rib cage!"

"It isn't in your ribcage, dear" You replied, pressing a rag to the wound, causing him to hiss.

" . . Regardless," He went on dizzily. "My point remains. ."

You looked up at him, frowning as you watched him try to keep his eyes focused.

You knew the blood wouldn't hold him for long. He was more lucid, but you could see the first signs of him already starting to slip away again.

"Just focus," You whispered.

"I am gonna have to lay you on your stomach. This is going ot hurt, I'm so, so sorry, Star." You took in a shaky breath, willing yourself to be strong for him. Doing your best to argue and keep him engaged.

"Wasn't I already?" He asked in confusion, making your heart sink,

"No, " You replied, bringing your hand to cup his cheek. "No, you're sitting up right now. . But I need you to lay down on your stomach. Just let me guide you, alright? Do you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you" he retorted, feeling your hands come up to help him maneuver carefully onto the ground.

He grunted, face smushing into the dirt.

"What sort of question even is that, darling?" He continued on, your heart twisting.

"A silly question," You murmured, moving over to sit on the backs of his legs, knowing he was probably going to try and flail when you did this.

"I need you to stay as still as you can for me, okay, Star?" he simply nodded in response, letting out a soft, dizzy groan.

You grasped the arrow carefully with both hands, surprised when you found it to be slippery with blood, only then realizing you had never staunched the bleeding from your wrist.

You grabbed a cloth quickly to offer a better grip, taking a deep breath before slowly and carefully starting to remove the long length of wood from his flesh, listening with a sickened displeasure to the mewls of pain that left his lips, his body writhing beneath you as he fought to try and make the pain stop.

"I'm sorry," You cried, throat tight. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry- It's gonna be over in just a second, I promise- I'm so sorry-" You took in a shaky breath as your resolve to stay strong was crumbling listening to the tortured sounds leave him in an unfiltered stream.

"Please," He gasped, the plea desperate and weak.

"Please make it stop-" He cried out as the last inch of the arrow slipped suddenly from his back, the resistance it had been offering you having suddenly stopped, making you go faster than you had intended.

"Okay okayokay, it's done, it's gone," You whimpered, bending down and peppering loving kisses to his shoulder as he panted in pain beneath you.

"You're okay," You went on, moving off of him and grabbing another rag quickly to press it to the wound, making him grunt.

"It's okay. . Hey, let me help you sit up, okay? You need the other healing potion." You quickly wiped away the tears blurring your eyes, replacing it with a thin layer of blood instead.

He offered you his hand to take, allowing you to help him sit up before he promptly fell backwards against the rocks, groaning as he did so.

"This is no fun," He deduced, breath heavy and shallow.

You shook your head miserably.

"Not in the fucking slightest," You stated, moving to press into his side as you gave him the last potion.

"This is the last one," You whispered. "But you can feed on me, to keep up your strength, okay?" You flinched as a firebolt struck right in front of the opening to your hide away, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I think I'd just like to sleep actually, if tha's alright with you, darling" He murmured, finding himself completely exhuasted.

"No- Hey, no you have to stay awake- Astarion!" You gave his shoulder a stressful shake, making him open his eyes again.

"Come on. Drink" You held up the potion to his lips, helping him swallow it back.

It managed to heal his wounds enough that he would not die from them. But it did little good against the poison working its way through his veins.

he coughed as he choked on some of the liquid, bringing a hand up to wipe off his lips, bloodying it in the process.

"Good," You breathed, pressing your forehead against his shoulder in relief when you felt his stomach stop bleeding.

"Just feed, okay? The others will find us. I'm sure of it." You shut your eyes as you brought your still bleeding wrist up for him, feeling his fangs sink in to the skin tiredly, though he did manage to still find the strength to bring a hand up to hold the back of yours, keeping your wrist in place as he gently sucked, swallowing the crimson liquid gratefully.

You hid the grimace of pain against his shoulder, willing to suffer far greater if it meant your sweet vampire being okay.

Though after a time, you were beginning to feel quite light headed.

Astarion had gotten quite good the past few months with learning to control his feeding so as not to hurt you, but with the poison affecting his thoughts, and making him barely conscious, he was right back to being absent-minded with it.

You didn't care at the moment. If he needed it, you would provide.

You would offer every last drop of your being if it meant buying him enough time for someone to find him and help.

You felt tears absently leaking down your face as you stayed curled up against him, your free arm wrapped around his back, holding him weakly so his side was pressing against your chest.

"I love you," You whispered, praying to any and all gods that might have been listening, willing to spare him.

You shut your eyes tightly as twin tears dripped down your cheeks.

You hesitated when you felt his grip on your hand loosen, and he let your hand fall from his lips.

You looked up at him, sniffling.

You were relieved to find that he had not stopped due to losing consciousness, but rather of his own volition.

"I . . I love you too, you know," He murmured hesitantly, never having actually been brave enough to say the words back.

You sniffled again, cupping his cheek dizzily as you brought your head up to press against the side of his hair, eyes shutting tightly as you let out a quiet sob, leaving a long, tender smooch to the side of his head after a moment.

"I know," You whispered. "That is why I know you're gonna be strong, and fight through this." you put a hand over the wound, sniffling once more as you tried to control your tears.

He smiled slightly as he looked down at you, his eyes unable to focus properly as he did so, seeing blurry doubles.

"Is it cold in here?" He asked absently, feeling a bit chilly.

You frowned.

Though it was perhaps cooler than it was outside, it certainly was not a temperature that should have bothered the elf under normal circumstances.

You put the back of your hand to his dirty forehead, stomach twisting as your fears were confirmed.

"You're getting a fever, I think," You informed him. "Most likely from the poison. ."

"We can't start a fire, I'm sorry." If the poor ventilation wasn't a problem, the attention that the light of the fire could draw most certainly would be.

"That's well," He assured. "I can just use you as a blanket instead, my sweet." He smiled at you somewhat cheekily, making you bite your lip.

"Happily," You replied, shutting your eyes when he leaned down to press his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

You laid him down carefully, watching him shiver unpleasantly due to the cold ground.

"Let me take off you shirt, okay?" You said, moving your hands down to work on getting his dirty, blood soaked armor off.

"As much as I love pleasing you, my love, I don't think I am in the shape for such activities at the moment," He replied breathlessly.

"Gods- It is to share body head, Astarion!" You objected, running a hand worriedly through the front of his hair to brush it off his brow.

"Hmm. . Sure," He replied with a sideways smile, eyes lulling shut.

You ignored him, working quickly to get his upper half exposed. You used rags to quickly cover the wounds with to keep out dirt before doing the same to your own clothing, the thin fabric covering your breasts the only thing between you two as you laid down and pressed your body against his.

You pulled the pile of clothing over the two of you for insolation, feeling him shiver as he wrapped his arms around you, coughing absently as he did so, his throat feeling a little flemmy.

You wrapped your arms around him, cradling his head against your shoulder as you laid halfway on top of him, acting as a human blanket as best you could.

You cursed yourself for having dropped your scrolls during the fight. You had had one or two that would have been rather handy to help keep him comfortable while you waited on the others.

You made him feed every hour or so. The second you started to feel that you wouldn't pass out if he drank, you let him.

His fever developed into something quite unpleasant as the hours passed, his shivering now constant, his coughing coming every minute or so as his body tried to fight off the invasion.

It should have killed him by now. By all rights, the vampire spawn should have been a full corpse in your arms as night fell. And yet, he was still with you. Fighting and struggling to remain conscious.

Though not without a great many complaints and a good stream of whining.

Still, you did not care. You would listen to him complain and whine the rest of your life, and be grateful for it so long as it meant he was still with you.

"The others will find us," You assured for the thirteenth time in the past ten minutes, the fever making him quite absent-minded.

"But how do you know?" He asked in concern for the eleventh time also in the past ten minutes.

"Because I do. I have faith." He huffed at this.

"faith. . Like Shadowheart has faith in her dark mistress? Or Wyll has faith we will actually free him from his contract?" You gave him a look.

"I don't put my faith in gods, or higher powers, Astarion. I put my faith in my friends. my family." you pulled closer to him as he sighed.

"You always were soft, darling," He lamented. "And I may very well die for it."

He grunted when you smacked his arm.

"The only way you are going to die is if I kill you, now shut up and be comforted." You pressed your body against him tighter, cradling his head protectively.

he smiled absently, chuckling as he allowed himself to press closer to you in return, feeling the comfort.

You were maybe optimistic and youthful in your faith in people, but you were certainly forceful and hard headed as well.

He whimpered as a particularly bad chill ran through him, eyes shutting as he tried to focus on your warmth.

You frowned softly to yourself.

He was burning up.

Well, for him, at least. For someone who was alive, it would have felt more like being a little overheated rather than feverish.

"I've got you," You cooed, running your fingers through his hair damp soothingly.

"Just focus on my voice, okay? We are going to get through this. And when we do, I'll take you to a nice tavern, hm? With a warm room and a soft bed. . And we can just lay there as long as we like, and enjoy ourselves, and drink fine wine. . " You listened as he took in a deep breath, relaxing as he allowed himself to latch on the to comforting fantasy.

"That sounds rather nice, darling," He murmured sleepily, another deep inhale coming and going before he coughed softly to clear his throat.

You kissed his temple lingeringly as you continued to smooth his hair back with your hand, listening for any signs of fighting or, hopefully, the sounds of a rescue.

Neither arrived however as you listened.

You swallowed heavily as you brought your hand up for him again, feeling your arm shake with the effort it took to hold it up to him.

You knew that your body was not making enough blood to replenish the stock he was taking, but you didn't care. you had to make it work.

You shut your eyes as you felt his fangs graze over the wounds he had already created the past few hours, though you looked at him questioningly when he grunted, shaking his head as he softly pushed your hand away.

"Star you need to feed," You said with a frown, looking down at him worriedly, unsure if it wasn't enough anymore to keep him going.

"No," He breathed, shaking his head, eyes remaining shut. "No. . I can feel your hand shaking. You sound weak. . I won't take anymore from you. . I will be okay without it for now, love." He turned to face you, coughing softly.

You stared at him silently, unsure what to do with that.

You felt you stomach twisting with love for him.

Even in a state of certain death, he didn't want to hurt you. . And yet, you needed him to, if it meant ensuring he would be okay. .

"I will be alright," You murmured reassuringly, shifting down tiredly to come face to face with him. "I promise. Don't worry about me right now, okay? I've got it." You brushed your nose over his. "I've got you."

He opened his eyes just a crack to look at you.

You were almost as pale as he was, and the weakness pushing you towards sleep was difficult to miss.

He shook his head softly, clearing his throat once more.

"No . . I will be fine," He replied, pressing his forehead against yours softly.

you sighed, knowing it would do little good to argue with him about it. Neither of you had the energy for it anyhow.

"Alright. . In a few minutes then, okay?"

"An hour," He compromised, though you frowned.

"Fine. . An hour." It would be the shortest damn hour that man ever experienced.

Ten minutes passed, and you nudged him again.

"Its time," You murmured. "You need to feed." You offered him your wrist, eyes shut.

"That was an hour?" He questioned in groggy confusion, shivering softly against you.

"Mhm, whole hour," You replied, with a tired nod.

"Hm. . " He did not offer anything more, finding himself unable to muster the strength to feed again.

He was getting less and less each time, and as the poison spread through him, it was becoming less effective as it grew stronger inside of him.

"Star, you need to feed," You murmured after a long silence, struggling to stay awake yourself.

"Star. . ?" You forced your eyes open when you realized his shivering had stilled.

Your heart stopped, your entire body going cold as you looked up at his unmoving form.

You brought a hand up to put two fingers under his nose to check for breathing.

"Oh, god," You whispered with horror.

"Astarion, love, wake up," You pleaded, sitting up dizzily and trying to force more blood down his throat.

It wasn't enough though, and you knew it.

Your heart was racing, making you feel like you were going to pass out.

There was only one thing you could think to do at this point.

You were out of time waiting. If he was to die anyway, then you were more than willing to risk going with him if it meant he had even a slim chance of getting help before it was too late.

You got up on shaky feet, stumbling with your hand guiding you against the rocks as you made your way for the exit of the alcove, mustering all the energy you had left inside of you to channel it all into your chest, your breathing picking up as your started to feeling it go into your shoulders and down your arms, tingling your hands with such power that it felt like it was going to consume your very essence.

The energy shot from you fingertips high into the sky as the words to cast the spell left you lips in a scream that released every ounce of your fear and desperation. The bolt of yellow energy tore through you, stealing every drop of energy you had left to offer.

It was, in a word, glorious.

People would have been able to see it for miles, the sound cracking like thunder, the force of it shaking the ground beneath your very feet.

A beacon that with any luck would offer a way for the rest of your party to find you.

You never even felt your body hit the ground, laying crumpled in a heap just outside the rocks where your beloved remained barely holding on to the last threads of life in him. .

Your eyes opened blearily, looking around you in a daze.

The first thing you recognized was the feeling of something warm curled against you, and the familiar scent that accompanied it.

You looked over, heart skipping a beat when you found your white haired elf snuggling against your side, passed out, but a normal, healthy temperature and complexation.

You felt your breath hitch as tears welled in your eyes with relief.

"There she is," You heard Wyll's voice from the entrance of the doorway.

You looked over, wiping the water from your eyes as you gave him a smile, letting out a breathy gasp.

"That was quite the scare you two gave us," He said as he moved over, sitting down by your bedside.

"We found you with mere seconds to spare," Another voice added, and Gale appeared to lean in the doorway with a smile.

A scoff followed, and you couldn't help smiling more as Shadowheart appeared.

"Hardly," She corrected. "Ignore Gale's exaggerations, Tav." She gave the wizard a look, who merely returned it with a smile, his arms loosely crossed in a relaxed position over his chest.

"Allow for the dramatic every once in a while, will you? "Either way, you showed quite the surge of power back there," He went on, sounding proud. "I shudder to think what you'd be capable of if you ever agreed to study under my teachings." You smiled a little more, letting out a breathy laugh.

"Perhaps after things settle down a little," You replied fondly.

Shadowheart moved to kneel beside the bed next to where Wyll sat.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, looking concerned.

"Tired," Was the honest response, "But I'll be fine." Though you cared little about your own state.

You looked over to Astarion. Wyll read the questions of worry immediately, and took your hand reassuringly.

"He will be just fine," He promised. "There is no need to worry about him. He is back to his normal self, more or less. He fought three separate nurses to lay in bed with you. Though perhaps now that you are awake, you might convince him to bathe and allow for his own treatment of care."

You bit your lip, looking over at the warlock and nodding, taking in a deep breath as you lovingly squeezed his hand.

"He does smell a bit, doesn't he," You whispered emotionally, letting out a quiet laugh as Shadowheart joined in.

"I suppose even vampires need a bath now and again to remain fresh," She replied playfully.

You laughed again, sounding on the verge of tears.

"Thank you," You said, looking between the three of them, throat tight.

"I don't know what I would do without all of you." You sniffled as they quickly moved in on you, crowding you for a suffocating hug, getting Astarion in the process as well.

"Can't a vampire get some bloody rest with his beloved anymore?" The grouchy creature objected as the action of their affections woke him from his much needed nap.

They retracted their affections quickly, allowing Astarion to see that your eyes were finally open, your body moving. .

"Come, I suspect these two are going to want a moment to themselves," Gale commented with a smile when Astarion's expression changed when he found you to be conscious.

You gave the three a farewell, looking back to Astarion who was already staring at you as though you had been brought back from the dead.

You did not even get the chance to speak before two cool hands cupped your face, and his lips smashed against yours in an emotional, adoring kiss.

You shut your eyes dizzily, winded from the sudden passion.

Your hands came up to mimic the hold he had you in, running your thumb tenderly against his sharp cheekbone, your stomach twisting with relief and joy.

You gasped when he finally allowed you air once more, your hands remaining on one another's face, staring silently into each others eyes for a time.

"I thought I'd lost you," He whispered, sounding choked. "Don't you dare think about doing that to me again," He added with angry vehemence, kissing you again before you could speak.

"You are one to talk," You retorted when you were finally allowed to do so, grabbing his waist and pushing him from on top of you to instead lay facing one another.

"You- God, Astarion, I thought I had lost you!" You felt your throat tighten, pressing your forehead against his as you shut your eyes tightly, a leg slipping to rest between his.

"That is apparently something I'm completely incapable of handling. So you are just- You are going to have to avoid doing anything like that ever again, do you understand?- No, forget that- You are never leaving our camp again!- No, never mind- I'm making Gale make a bubble for you, and you will just live in that bubble, safe for the rest of your life!-" You cut off to the sound of his laughing, the sound making your heart swell.

"Stop laughing at me, I am dead serious!" You said, doing your best to stay forceful despite his laugh being utterly contagious.

it was positively turning your insides to mush.

"Very well, darling," He said, smiling as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. "But only if you agree to live in this bubble of yours with me." You smiled, bringing your fingertips to run over the side of his face tenderly.

"Deal," You murmured, soothed by his tender touch and calm voice.

He sighed softly, leaning forward to kiss you gently before pulling away again.

"But honestly, darling, if you ever sleep for two days straight after creating what the others described as 'the most powerful burst of energy they have ever seen in their lives' ever again, you will be answering to my wrath. Are we clear?" You grinned as he pulled you closer.

"We're clear," You murmured fondly, looking up at him with doe eyes.

"Good," He murmured, putting a hand on the side of your head as he left a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, your eyes shutting with blissful relief.

"Now, what do you say to a bath?" You questioned, putting a hand on his chest. "The others are complaining about your . . intoxicating scent." You grinned as you spoke.

"Hmm. . Five more minutes," He decided, pulling you ever closer and shutting his eyes.

You took in a deep breath, more than content with this decision, happy to lay with him longer than a mere five minutes should he decide he desired longer. . .

A/N Thank you my lovies for reading! If you have interest in being notified when I put out a new fic, shoot me a message and I will tag you as I put them out. :)

[greeniegirl23]

Spilled Ink!! 🔏: Alastor x Reader NSFW!

(Minors DNI! Go clean your sneakers! >:(

Mentions: NSFW/ Overstimulation/ Begging/ Alastor having Dom energy/ Fucking Stupid - Stupid Fucking)

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Honestly, you're not too sure how it even happened. One moment you were reading a book in your room until Alastor came knocking, resulting in you both getting into a fuzz about his ability to snap stuff to fruition as he pleased, so why did he need to pester you and take your very high quality, very expensive ink.

You had to remind him that you worked for a living and he even tried to intimate it out of you by informing you that his day had been very trying. You were only supposed to tell him to go to double hell and slam the door in his face, that's all!

But before you could, he tried to snatch it off of your desk, resulting in a tussle and the ink to go flying on both of your clothes. Things got blurry for a second, but you remember blinking and be sat square in his lap with his length nestled in the deepest crevices of your body.

Your back was facing his as he pressed kisses to your neck, leaving bitmarks and hickies in the junction of your shoulder. The robe you wore was drooping down, giving him room to paint your body with his affection and leaving one of your breasts exposed to the warm air of the room.

Darkness caused your senses to be dialed up to eleven. You couldn't see a thing except for the soft crimson glow of his eyes out of your peripherals. Long slender fingers snuck themselves under your robe, a hand caressed your curves before setting on your stomach to feel the small bulge that was there. He had to admit, his chest swelled with pride as he felt himself through your body. Resting peacefully and warm, just how he liked it.

The other hand cradled your head as you leaned back on him for support. Hot tears traced down your face and over his fingers; he felt so good but it wasn't enough to dismiss the burn that ached in your core.

You thanked God that he allowed you to adjust. You tried to tell him he wouldn't fit, you really did but he wouldn't listen. Instead, he hushed you with sweet nothings into your ear. Wiping your tears with something disguised as love as he breached your entrance and pushed your body past it's limits.

Even when you shrieked in discomfort, he held you by your chin and kissed your forehead. “Shhh, relax darling.” He cooed. “I said I'd take care of you and I am a man of my word, but I have to get in somehow.” He said in a sing-song like voice, half dressed and disheveled.

Your claws shredded his clothing as he pushed inch, after agonizing inch into your tight heat. Kissing away your tears until he managed to fit all of himself inside you.

That had been about five minutes ago and you could tell he was starting to get impatient. Clicks and chirps from his internal radio grew in frequency, pressing his nose into your skin to inhale your sweet scent, and shallowly bucking his hips.

The soft clicking sound from where you were intertwined made your walls pulse around him, causing him to moan softly into your ear. The initial sound was so lewd and frankly embarrassing, but your body responded to it like a beautiful symphony.

Pretty soon his hips found a steady pace within you, using his powers to restrain your hands behind your back while his own moved to grip the fat of your curves. Soft clicks turned into soft slapping, quiet moans transitioned into something straight up pornographic.

He was so fucking big to the point where your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Each nudge to your cervix made you wanna cry but you were swimming in pleasure as he brought you closer and closer to a release.

Alastor huffed and puffed in your ear, letting out genuine moans that you were deemed worthy enough to hear. Whispering and whimpering your name into his kisses, the sharpness of his claws pierced your skin in a delicious manner as he picked up the pace.

You were hugging him so tightly, pulsing around him with a vice-like grip, and giving him the most intimate of cockrings straight from the heart of your core.

It didn't take long until you were begging for mercy. Begging for him to slow down because you just couldn't take him in his entirety. Everything was too much, he was too big, you were too close! Fuck! You were gonna!-

Alastor supported your body as you convulsed almost violently against him. Even as you screamed his name, as tears fell down the apples of your cheek, he still kept his pace up. Bullying your poor pussy despite your tightness trying to force him out so you could breathe for a damn second!

“Stop resisting..” He growled, fucking you seven ways to Sunday through your sensitivity. “You can take it darlin’”

You wanted to scream, but your voice was too hoarse from earlier. “I can’t!” You stuttered out. The tip of his length was hitting your g-spot so good it made your toes curl and your eyes cross.

“Just a bit more..!” He begged, fighting his Southern drawl as you pulsed around him again. He was so close but it wasn't enough, he needed more.

In a swift motion, Alastor had pulled out and threw you on your back. Shredding off your robe into nothing but tatters of fabric, he folded your knees back to reach your ears and plunged himself back into your heat.

The bundle of nerves between your body had grown puffy, your walls had grown weary of Alastor's torment. Every thrust had him practically shifting your insides around while the bulge from before was now more prominent given the new position.

In a desperate attempt, you stuck out your hands against his stomach with your palms flat. “..Slow down!”

Needless to say that didn't work, because in five seconds flat your wrists were chained by the commanding snap of his fingers, and placed around his neck so you couldn't move them.

“Know your place little girl..” He hissed. Extremely irritated that you'd dare interrupt him, much less demand him to do anything all in the same sentence.

As punishment, he buried his face into your neck as his body grew a bit in size. Just around his pelvic area of course, sending straight jolts of pain through your body as his thrust were even more forceful than before.

“AH! M’SorryM’Sorry!!!” You quickly apologized, while tuging at the restraints. Hoping that he'd forgive you because if not, you wouldn't be walking anywhere for a very long time.

“Too late darlin..’” His body curled itself over top of your smaller one, forcing you into more of a ball and somehow sending him deeper. You screamed profanities, struggled against your restraints, and begged for his forgiveness but it was no use.

He fucked you mercilessly, the kind of sex that could make you fall in love with even your most hated enemy. A second release was coming up on you fast, as you let out all sorts of sounds through gritted teeth and Alastor got lost in his own pool of ecstasy. It was almost impressive that he was fucking both of you into stupidity.

“Keep beggin’ like that cher, n’ you'll drive a man mad..” He whispered with a thick static lacing his tone.

“Al please, I can't take it!” You cried, only for him to kiss your cheek in comfort. “S’all most over Sweetheart, it's almost over…” Slowly his hand crept down between your bodies and began to give some attention to the bundle of nerves that had been neglected for some time now.

“Alastor, wait!-” He slammed his lips against your own as you pleaded between kisses, forced to take his onslaughts because he had ceased your every way to move. It didn't take long before your orgasm hit you like a eighteen wheeler, your body locked up so badly you caught a cramp in your thigh.

Wailing against his lips, Alastor took the opportunity to fuck his last bits of strength into you before his own realese finally finally came.

His antlers sprouted high enough to scrape the ceiling, claws tore the couch stuffing in his office to mere tatters as the internal radio within him flipped through what sounded like a thousand stations all at once. His moans were intangible, thick, and distorted into a language you couldn't understand as he pumped thick ropes of his seed directly into your body. Filling you up to the point of overflowing as the buzz from the best fucking sex of your existence begin to settle in. His lips fought to stay stuck in yours, to soothe your cries as he cradled your body and muttered "I've got you cher, I'm right here." against your lips. The occasional profanity slipping out here and there from your body sucking him dry.

It took awhile for Alastor to remove himself, taking a second to observe his handiwork on your body and to also appreciate the white substance that leaked from your fountain of intimacy. Snapping away your restraints, he helped you sit up as best you could without wabbling and placed his trademark tailcoat over your shoulders, even securing it with his bowtie as he dressed himself properly.

“You can keep that for now, I'll purchase you a new robe from Rosie's sometime this week.”

In silence you sat as his finished straightening his clothes and grabbing the pen ink that he originally bothered you for in the first place.

“Don't worry about walking for the next few days, I'll have my shadows set up space for you in my room and if anyone asks I'll tell them you've come down with a fever.”

“I'm sorry.” You waved your hand in a circle. “You think you can walk into my room and pick a fight with me over ink that you could have snapped into reality by yourself, bang me like a screen door during a hurricane, and then expect me to take recovery in your chambers?!”

“Yes.” He said with a smile, cocky and condescending. “I did quite a number on you my dear, you're going to need some special attention for a while.”

“Uh, fuck you. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Really now?” He smirked, placing a hand on his hip with the sass of a middle aged woman. “Stand up and walk.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me, darling I didn't screw you daft." He raised an eyebrow and looked down on you with a dark expression, grinning big enough to split his face in two.

"Walk.."

With an irritated twitch in your eye, you shuffled to the edge of the couch and stood up, taking a cautious step forward before a strike of pain knocked on the door of your brain, resulting in you limping forward and falling before you could even hit a second step. Luckily, Alastor's lanky arms were there to catch you as you curled in on yourself from the excruciating cramps that were blossoming in your stomach.

“The fuck did you do to me?” You groaned. “Ughh, it feels like I just got hit with my cycle!"

A smarmy chuckle left his lips as he fixed you bridal style in his arms. “That would be the bruising of your cervix settling in, hence why you're going to need my care for a bit. I've got some remedies from my time up above that should aid in easing the issue.”

Hissing from his purposely uncareful movements, you fought the urge to stretch him. “You motherfucker..”

He snorted as he carried you into his room in the dark of the hotel. “I'd hardly refer to myself as such a thing, however if we do have little hellspawns, twelve would do nicely, I suppose then that name would become a more applicable title. ”

“Twelve what?! Are you insane?!"

He shrugged. "Go big or go home Darling!"

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured VII

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: Alexia tries to get her act together

For as long as she will ever live, Alexia will never forget her mother's face that day at Alba's door.

She will never forget the genuine horror on her mother's face even as she took control of the situation. She will never forget that night when Alba slammed her against the wall after the final of the Copa de la Reina. She will never forget the way you hid behind Jenni's legs after your ballet lesson.

It's all she thinks about even as she sits in the rocking chair with a sleeping Jaume in her arms.

"Ale?" Olga says sleepily," It's three in the morning. Come back to bed."

Alexia doesn't want to. She doesn't want to let Jaume go but she doesn't want to look at him either.

He was so perfect. His birth had been quick and easy unlike yours. Alexia had felt an instant connection to him, unlike when she suffered a bought of post-partum depression with you. He was so soft and so perfect and yet...

Alexia couldn't believe that she has pushed you away in favour of him.

She had a beautiful son and daughter. Two children, not one.

She thought having a sibling would be the best thing for you. She wanted to build a family with Olga. She never considered that she hadn't actually included you in that family.

"Alexia," Olga says, a bit more awake now," Come on. He's due for a feed soon. I'd like some sleep before that."

Mechanically, Alexia places her son back in his crib, wiping away some of the drool on his face as she allows Olga to lead her back to bed.

A sense of numbness follows her now and it's clear to everyone.

Word has spread amongst the team now about what has happened. They know the bare minimum, only that Alba took Bambi and that Jenni has dropped everything to fly across the world for you.

No one knows why, officially. It's clear that Mapi and Ingrid have informed a few team members. Paredes, in particular, cannot look Alexia in the eye anymore and some of the younger players are wary seeing that.

Her life is falling apart. She had no idea you were the linchpin holding it all together.

Olga lays next to her, head pillowed on Alexia's chest.

"You're so tense," She says," Relax. Everything's going to be fine."

Alexia scoffs. "Is it?"

Her question hangs in the air for several minutes. Neither of them speak. Neither of them move.

"Yes," Olga says eventually," You need to stay positive, Alexia. If not for yourself then for your daughter-"

"Your daughter?" Alexia echoes Olga's words perfectly," My daughter? Is she not ours?"

The silence is telling and Olga rolls over and away.

"Is she? Jaume is ours. y/n is yours."

Alexia sits up in bed, reaching over to flick a lamp on. This wasn't a conversation she could have in the dark.

"We have a son together. We're going to get married. In what world is Bambi just mine?!"

"In every world!" Olga sits up too. "She has always been yours, Alexia! I am just the woman her Mami is marrying! Nothing more, nothing less!"

"How can you say that?! We're making a family together! Bambi is included in that family!"

"Of course she is but when have I ever taken that role in her life?! You took her to football! You take her to ballet!"

"She stays home with you all day!" Alexia bites back, standing now until they're both yelling at each other over the bed. "You make her lunch! You keep her occupied!"

"And you do her baths and her bedtime routine! You do her morning routine too! God, Alexia, I am essentially her glorified babysitter! You have never once let me take over those things!"

"You didn't ask?! Olga, if you wanted to do that stuff just ask me!"

"And be rejected? No! You've never given any indication that I was even allowed to try!"

"Because I thought you didn't want to! Bambi has always been mine! Forgive me for not knowing how much to put on your plate. I was trying to make this transition easy!"

"An easy transition?! Alexia, I was pregnant! I was already thrown in the deep end! Adding a self-sufficient kid wouldn't have been much worse!"

They're both screaming at each other now and Jaume clearly hears the noise because he cries from down the hall.

Alexia takes a deep breath, eyes shutting briefly as she counts to ten to calm herself.

Olga goes to get Jaume, moving out the door.

"If we're going to get Bambi back," Alexia calls after her," Then we have to both want her!"

The forms about your ballet class lay on the kitchen table when Alexia gets up the next day. Things were frosty last night when Olga came back to bed with Jaume but they seemed to be looking up when Olga said that they would have a mature conversation about the Bambi situation when Alexia got home.

Alexia picks it up as she eats her breakfast, skimming through it. It's for an extra class on Thursday nights (five until seven) on top of your usual ones. Apparently, it's for those little kids that have real potential. As in, the potential to be great.

Alexia had been one of those kids but for football instead of ballet. She had excelled. She was one of the greatest in the world now all because her father saw the potential in her and signed her up for a team.

She had tried to do the same with you. She took you to the under-fives Barcelona team but it hadn't turned out how she want it to. The other children had left you in the dust. Alexia had hoped that it would be a one time thing, that the first session was a fluke.

You were already so different to her and even back then, she knew that when Jaume arrived things would be different.

She'd tried to get you into football so you would have something to bond over together, at least until Jaume was big enough to play with you.

But it wasn't meant to be and her Mama had insisted in signing you up for something else.

Originally, Alexia had planned on it being another team sport, desperate to have something at least similar to football that she could cling to.

Instead, her Mama had reminded her of last Christmas when the family went to go see the Nutcracker and how enamoured you had been.

Ale's Mama had pushed and pushed for ballet and Alexia was glad that she had.

The forms sat signed on the kitchen table as Alexia washed up her bowl and dialled a number on her phone.

"Hola, Mama," She says," It's about Bambi..."

It's after training that Alexia goes to see her Mama and sister. They meet up at Eli's house and all crowd around the kitchen table.

Jenni is there too and when Alexia asks who is looking after you, she's told that Mapi and Ingrid have taken you for ice cream.

"I don't like this," Alba mutters from where she's leaning against the wall. She's the only one not sat, arms crossed over her chest. "How do we know that she's not going to take Bambi home and neglect her again, huh?"

It's the hardest words Alexia has ever had to say but she pushes them out of her mouth. "I don't want you to give me Bambi back, not now at least."

"What do you mean, Alexia?" Her Mama asks.

"I...I have a lot of making up to do," Alexia admits," I broke her trust and that is not an easy thing to get back. If I want Bambi to come home then she has to want it to. I don't want her to be unhappy again."

"What are you saying?"

"Let me visit her, please. Let me earn back her trust, please."

Everyone knows Eli is in charge here. She is the head of the family and everyone defers to her on big decisions like this. This is a family matter. This is about her granddaughter's happiness and her daughter's peace of mind.

"Bambi is very fragile right now," Eli says quietly but the house is so silent everyone can hear her clearly," This is a serious matter, Alexia and if it was anyone else's daughter, child services will have already been called."

Alexia looks down at the table, the same table she would be scolded at when she was young.

"Your father would be ashamed of you." Eli's words are hard and biting and it's exactly what Alexia wants, even if it causes a sharp pain in her chest. "This is not how we raised you. That little girl is so beloved by everyone and what you have done...I love you, Ale, but it is unacceptable."

"I know, Mama. Please, let me make this right."

"Bambi coming home is her choice. It is not a when...it is an if. If I decide that you are doing more harm than good then there will be other actions we can take."

She looks at Jenni, who up until this point has been silent and Alexia's eyes dart to her too.

"Mama, what are you talking about?"

"Eli," Jenni says," She is trying. We don't need to-"

"Jenni still has adoption papers," Alba says from her corner of the room," All they're missing is your signature. Mama is saying that if this cannot be resolved and Bambi doesn't want to come home..."

She lets the idea hang in the air. She doesn't need to say it out loud. They all know what she means.

"It won't get that far," Jenni says, looking at Alexia for the first time since all of this became real," Bambi loves you."

Alexia pushes through the lump in her throat and the tears pricking in her eyes. "If I cannot make this better then she will have the best chance with you."

Jenni looks away first. "She has ballet on Saturday until one. We can do a visit then."

"Thank you."

Olga is sitting with Jaume when Alexia gets home. It's an almost perfect image. All it's missing is you at Olga's feet, playing with your trains.

She can imagine it, your trainsets spread all over the floor and your ballet bag left abandoned on a chair. You will smile when you see her and Alexia will litter your face with kisses before doing the same to Olga and Jaume.

It will be perfect, Alexia promises herself.

"Hey, little man," She coos to her son, hefting him up into her arms and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Jaume giggles at the affection, lips smacking together as his hand whips out to grab at Alexia's nose curiously. He's been a little fussy recently and extremely sensitive to changes in light but he seems a little happier now.

"That's my nose," Alexia says. She wiggles it. "Is it really funny? Huh? Is my nose funny?"

"Jaume seems to think so." Olga rises from the sofa and pecks Alexia's lips. "How was your mother?"

"Helpful."

"And Alba?"

"She was...Alba."

"And Jenni?"

"How did you-?"

"I am not blind or deaf, Ale. Your team gossips. Jenni has comes back to Spain for y/n."

"Amor-"

"I'm not threatened," Olga laughs," You broke up for a reason but even I know that a meeting of y/n would involve her. How was it? What did they say?"

Alexia manages a smile. "I can see her on Saturday, after ballet. There's a place where you can paint pottery nearby. I think I'll take her there."

"That's nice," Olga says.

"I..." Alexia's been floating in a happy bubble ever since she started to drive home. She doesn't want to ruin it but she has to know. "Did you have a think about what we talked about?"

Olga sighs. "I love Jaume," She says after several beats of quiet," Because he is mine, yes, but mostly because he is yours as well. And I love you so much."

Alexia doesn't like where this is going. "And Bambi?"

"I'm sorry, Ale, but I do not love y/n but...I think I could learn to because she is so much like you and I love you. I do not know y/n like I know you and Jaume. I want to though. I want her home with us so I can love her like I love Jaume. I am sorry if it is not what you want to hear but it is my truth and I hope that is enough."

Tears fall down Alexia's cheeks.

"It's enough. It's enough, amor."

Alexia spends all week waiting for Saturday. There are matches to prepare for and media commitments to do but you're all she can think about.

She wonders if she should bring you a new train to mark the occasion but the model train store has finally shut down and Alexia cannot get one for you in time.

Next time though, she promises herself that she'll got you a new train for your collection. Her palms are sweaty and she's nervous when she spots you and Jenni walking down the street hand-in-hand.

You're still in your ballet clothes but you've got one of Jennie's jackets on and it's dragging on the ground behind you because it's too big. Your hair is still done up in a bun and a few wisps fall down to frame your face.

"Bambi," Alexia says, suddenly breathless when you look up at her.

"Hola, Mami," You reply, ducking a little bit behind Jenni as you greet her.

"Your Mami and you are going to paint some pottery," Jenni says," And I'll be right here to pick you up when you're done."

"You won't be late?"

"Of course I won't be! You're my most favourite little girl in the whole wide world! I'd never be late to pick you up!"

You smile and giggle when Jenni peppers kisses all over your face before gently moving you towards Alexia.

"Hola, Mami," You say again.

Alexia smiles and takes your hand. "Hola, Bambi."

You look very nervous and your hand is unusually warm in Alexia's, though she puts that down to you coming straight from ballet.

There's a big wall where you can choose what to make. Alexia gets a mug and, unsurprisingly, you want the train. It's at the very top of the shelf and you can't reach and you don't want Mami to get upset at you for asking when you could easily get something that's closer to your height.

But Alexia notices.

She's making sure to pay a lot of attention to you now. To the way that your ballet pumps are wearing a bit at the soles and the way you play with the sleeves of Jenni's jacket.

"Do you want the train, Bambi?" She asks," Do you want me to pick you up so you can grab it? Can I touch you?"

You nervously nod and Alexia pretends to not notice the way that you don't breath until you're safely back on the ground.

The little shop is quaint and fairly quiet and Alexia lets you choose the table at the very back.

Very gently, she telegraphs her every move to you as she rolls up the sleeves of Jenni's jacket so you don't get paint on it.

You're both quiet as you paint.

Your little tongue is stuck out in concentration as you dip your paintbrush into the paint and move it to cover your train.

"You moved up in ballet," Alexia says eventually," How was that?"

"Was good," Is the response from your tiny voice," It is harder now but still fun." You blink a few times as the overhead light buzzes and you scratch at you neck. It's been a little itchy since you last saw Mami and you don't like.

You haven't told anyone because you're scared they're going to get angry at you. You're a big girl now. Big girl don't complain about something as silly as itchy skin.

"I'm very proud of you," Alexia says," And I'm glad that you're enjoying ballet so much."

Your watery little smile back makes Alexia nearly cry herself. "Really, Mami?"

"Of course. I am so proud of my Bambi. You make me proud everyday."

"Are you sure, Mami?"

"Yes. I am very proud of you."

You sniffle a little and duck your head back down to continue painting. It hurts to move your head though. It's all stiff and tight so you have to hold it at an odd angle so you don't cry - though you're not sure if it's because of the pain or the fact that Mami is acting like this is the Before.

The Mami from the Before never got angry when you asked silly questions. The Mama from the Now got angry at you once when you asked a silly questions when Jaume was crying.

You hope that this Mami won't be mad because you ask a silly question.

"Mami," You ask softly, the memory plaguing you ever since your Jenni returned to you," Jenni says she wanted me when I was little. Did you want me?"

Whatever bubble Alexia was in before pops and it's like icy cold water has been dumped on her.

"What do you mean, Bambi?"

"You and Miss Olga wanted Jaume," You say," And my Jenni says she wanted me. Did you want me too?"

"Bambi..." Alexia doesn't want to think about those first few months of having you. The post-partum depression had hit hard and Alexia could do little but deal with yours and hers basic needs.

She had loved you and resented you all at the same time and the guilt had weighed on her for months.

"I always want you."

You shake your head before wincing and returning your head back to its awkward resting position. "But did you want me then? When I was little like Baby Jaume and when I was in your belly?"

Alexia moves from her chair to kneel in front of you. Her hand comes up to cradle you. Either her hands are big or your face is tiny because they cover your entire cheek.

"I love you," Alexia says," You're my Bambi and I've always loved you."

"But did you want me?"

"Bambi..."

"Mami...Mami, I..."

Alexia doesn't want to lie but she also doesn't want to tell you either. There were moments, that first week she found out she was pregnant when she didn't want you. She hadn't been overjoyed at the prospective of you. She hadn't wanted her career to be derailed by something as silly as a child.

She doesn't want to tell you the truth because she knows that it will be damaging to you. You're not old enough to be told things like this. You're not mature enough to be told this kind of information and not have it linger and fester within you for years.

But Alexia's always valued honesty. She doesn't like lying but she had lied to you all your life. She doesn't want to lie again now even if it's about something like this. Adults cannot fault other adults for telling their truth but you are neither an adult nor can you understand what this means for you.

"I want you now," Alexia says instead," I want you when I go to bed every night. I want you when I wake up every morning. I want you when I score a goal and when I win trophies. I want you, Bambi."

You sniffle and scratch more insistently at your skin, your wrists this time.

"I miss you sometimes, Mami," You say," But coming back to your house is scary."

"Thank you for being honest, Bambi. You don't have to come home if you don't want to." Alexia forces down tears. "When I next see you, we should go and see Abuela and we'll explain things to you, okay?"

"Okay, Mami."

"Is your train done?"

Your train actually is done so Mami gives it and her mug to the lady who works there to finish off and you both walk outside.

"They should be done in a few days," Mami tells you," And then when I next see you, I'll give you your new train."

"Okay, Mami." Her hand is in yours and you think that is enough for today, pulling your hand away as Jenni turns the corner and lets you run to her.

"Hey," She laughs, swinging you up into her arms," How did it go? Was it fun?"

You don't answer, burying your face into Jenni's neck.

"I..." Alexia says," I think next time when should go to my Mama's...Conversations are...difficult sometimes."

Jenni nods. "I see," She says," Next week, maybe?"

The words are complete autopilot. Alexia hates what she's said the moment they're out of her mouth but they're completely out of habit and she doesn't even think before she speaks.

"We'll see," She says," I'll have to check my schedule." She clamps her mouth shut the moment she says them. "I mean- No, I meant-"

You look resigned, like you are so used to this that it barely effects you but Jenni looks furious. She hefts you up higher in her arms.

"Say goodbye to your Mami, Bambi."

"Bye, Mami."

"Hey...Wait, no, Jenni. I didn't mean-"

"Bambi needs to have a nap," Jenni says," She takes one right after ballet. We changed her schedule for painting today. I should get her home."

Alexia wilts, slouching her shoulders and curling in on herself. "Adios, Bambi. I love you!"

Jenni is already walking around and you don't offer your own I love you in return.

Jenni's steady steps feel nice as she walks you back to Tia Alba's. Your itchiness increases and you scratch more harshly at your neck.

"Ma-Jenni?"

"Yes, Bambi?"

"Can we have cuddles tonight?"

"Of course we can. I love cuddles with my favourite little girl. Are we having them on the sofa after bathtime or in bed together?"

Before Ma-Jenni came home, you slept with your Tia Alba. Now you sleep in the same bed as Ma-Jenni. She's big and strong and she holds you just right. She doesn't let you go the whole night. You go to sleep in her arms and you wake up in her arms.

"Bed cuddles please."

"I love bed cuddles."

You grin. "I love bed cuddles too!"

You scratch at your neck again and Jenni gently pulls your hand away. She frowns, swiping at your skin with her thumb a few times.

"You've got a bit of a rash there, Bambi," She says," We'll have to keep an eye on that."

[the-kr8tor]

hihi katy! ₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎ saw your post and honestly, you're not the only one obsessing over our boy savior, especially after that tragic ending for him in S2. (ꎿຶ꒫ꎿຶ) i'd like to make a request for him cus he really deserves to be happy and taken care of (৹˃ᗝ˂৹),,, could you write a lil summat about treating his wounds or maybe helping him change, helping him fall asleep, babying him, etc. pretty please? ʚ♡ɞ only if you want to! i hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!! ♡

- 🐋.

Hello!!! Thank you for the lovely request! I had too much fun with it lol

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW injuries, CW blood, lovestruck! Ekko, CW needles, CW suggestive, no spoilers for s2, a bit of hurt/comfort, fluff!

Navigation

Ekko retells the whole ordeal that just transpired a few minutes ago, which was exactly thirty three minutes ago. You counted the time with bated breath, and you've been keeping time since he skidded off his hoverboard and straight into a wall after Smeech shot his board midair. Your eyes keep darting off to the dried blood on his temple, iron and crimson marring his handsome face. And worrying you with every second that ticks by. Even though he got out of it in one piece, your heart still aches at the sight of the various gashes and bruises dotted along his skin.

A hundred scenes flit over your mind, things that you could've done to prevent his fall. You would have jumped off and caught him before he hit the hard wall, or the end of your gun would have met Smeech’s head before he even shot his own. Your breathing quickens, and the harsh bulbs of the hideout's meeting room doesn't help the headache blooming in your skull.

He notices your heavy gaze, brown eyes glancing at you whilst he continues to debrief his fellow firelights. He's still the pinnacle of a leader despite his injuries. Your eyes are starting to get glossy, brows furrowed in thinking. So as he finishes off the meeting in record time and sends off the others to do a sweep around the area yo make sure no one followed the group, he's on you immediately the second the door closes.

“Hey.” Ekko's voice is soft, gloved hand grazing your chin as he moves your head gently to face him. “Look at me, breathe.”

Your eyes meet his own, hands flying to grasp at his wrists to anchor yourself to him. “Are you okay?” You finally feel your lungs relaxing as he holds you.

He smiles, cracking the dried crimson on his cheek. “I'm good, still breathing.” Grabing the back of your chair, he scoots you over to his seat, effectively placing you in between his legs, knees knocking against your own in greeting.

Shaking your head, your hand hovers above his wound. “Does it hurt? You hit the ground— I heard it then when I went to look and I—”

Ekko leans against your hand to ease you. “It doesn't hurt much anymore, see? I won't be able to do this if it still hurts.”

Sniffing, your shoulders slump as you place your head atop his chest, careful of his hidden injuries. “Let me take care of you, please.” Your voice is muffled by his bandana, feeling his hand trace the line on your spine to soothe you more. “I should be the one taking care of you.”

“Who said?” He jokes, lips pecking the crown of your head.

You lean away, staring at him through your lashes as you frown. “I did.”

Chuckling, he cups your face, squeezing you once until you're smiling softly at him. “Okay, just go easy on me, firefly.”

—

You made a list for yourself to follow. After drawing him a bath, which he rarely takes because of his busy schedule, he cleans off the day's activities whilst you ready everything you need to tend to his wounds.

“You're not joining in?” Ekko asks in the tub, face scrunched against the wooden surface as steam rises up from the water. His hair is loose, twists falling over his playful eyes. “Water's warm.”

“Not this time, Ekko.” You say as you thread a needle. “I need to bandage your wound, and you know that the second I'm in there with you we won't get anything done.”

He scrunches his face, blowing raspberries in the air. “Foiled again. You're no fun.” The water overflows as he submerges himself down in the tub.

“Having an open head wound is no fun, Ekko.” Walking closer to the tub, he sees you above the water, eyebrow raised and voice garbled. “Didn't I tell you not to wet your head? I'm sure I double checked that you don't have a concussion.”

He blows air bubbles at you, hands reaching up so you can pull him out. Rising above, he wipes the water off his face. “Joining in won't hurt.”

You kneel down to level with him, arms placed on the edge of the tub and face resting atop it as you flutter your lashes at him. “If you let me take care of you for once then I'll jump in.”

His hands subtly snake over to your elbows, and you quickly know what he's up to. “Why not now—”

“Not now, tomorrow. I promise.” You kiss his wet lips chastely before standing up and giving him a hand. “Come on, bossman, don't be incorrigible.”

Sighing, Ekko surrenders to you. “Big word.” He says as he heaves himself up off the tub. Water dripping down his sculpted torso.

With a roll of your eyes, you take your hand away and toss him a towel. “Hide your bits, Ekko.” Laughing, the towel hits him right on his face.

“You like these bits though.” After he tucks the towel against his waist, he immediately grabs you by your waist, rubbing his wet face and hair against your own. He's happy to be back in your arms when he was this close to not going home.

“Ekko!” Your giggles bounce off the bathroom, and his guffaw is muffled by the side of your neck.

—

He acts tough in front of you as he sits in between your legs backwards. The way that he grips at your thighs says otherwise as the needle pierces his skin. Hissing, his fingers dig into your pants, eyes closed as he stiffens from the suture.

“Almost done, I promise.” Snipping off the thread, you clean the wound with an antiseptic and then closing it with gauze and medical tape. The firelights don't joke around with medical supplies.

You still remember the time he first tended to your wounds. And how much of a baby you were with the needle.

“Barely noticeable, I think I did okay.” You hold up a mirror for him, but he ignores it as he twists around, chest in full display as cups your cheeks. “I'd take a simple thank you, but a kiss is so much better.”

Ekko smiles gently, eyes crinkling at the corners before sighing deeply. “I'm alright, firefly.”

You look at him with all the love in the world. “I know, Ekko.” Wiping a stray water droplet away from his clavicle, you sniff and the scent of your soap that he used wafts over your nose, making you smile. “You're here, and I'm here. We're okay.” Nodding, you reassure him.

His thumb brushes along under your eye before leaning in to kiss you like it's the first time. Eyes closed, a single tear escapes from him as you cradle him in your arms, hands holding him in place and anchoring him to you.

Reluctantly pulling away, he pauses for a second before pecking each of your cheeks, then your forehead and whole face until you're giggling in his arms and with himself chuckling with every kiss.

Your hands run along his arms, feeling the muscles stretch underneath and the goosebumps that are left in your wake. “Aren't you cold?” You say in between his kisses.

Ekko pauses from attacking your face, and smiles fondly at you. He shakes his head, nose scrunched up. “No.”

“You sure?” You poke his chest, feeling how cool his skin has become since getting out of the bath. He shivers against your cold finger. You raise a teasing eyebrow at him as he sighs.

“...fine.”

“Arms raised up, bossman.” Patting his bicep, you grab a clean shirt you've prepared for him right next to you on the bed. When you turn back towards him, surprisingly, he has his arms raised up and waiting.

You unabashedly roam your eyes over the muscles of his chest. Effectively ogling him as he smirks at you.

“Shirt off then?” Ekko drops his hands down to his lap, head tilting as your eyes meet with his own. Finding that they have the same glint in them like your own.

“No shirt.” You say, tossing the shirt away before finding yourself pushed down on the soft mattress.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[xxgoldie]

let me spoil you

in which Lighter gets spoilt to filth on his birthday wc: 2.3k cw / notes: lighter x afab!reader, explicit (MDNI!!), sub!lighter but the d/s dynamics are minor, reader wears lingerie, body worship, light bondage (on lighter), p in v sex, raw sex, riding, light marking, nipple play, edging, dacyrphilia if you squint ig?, giving lighter the love he DESERVES

"I don't want to be greedy," Lighter teased, mouth breaking from yours and looking up at where you were sat on his lap, "but wasn't I promised one more birthday present?"

You let out a breathless giggle as his hands slid up your dress, and another at the ill-concealed confusion on his face when his fingers found the cotton of your usual underwear. It was true - you'd been hinting for days about a special extra present, not trying to hide that you'd bought some new lingerie for this occasion. His eyes had been scanning you all day, unashamedly imagining in the back of his mind what lacy creation you had on under your clothes as festivities with the gang went on.

"It's not really one I could wear underneath," you explained, yet another laugh escaping as you watched the cogs turn in his mind, adding the new information to whatever mental algorithm was guessing what you had prepared for him - cute, like he hadn't been grinding up into you so sinfully just seconds before, "but also... there's something I'd like to try today, if you're up for it."

"Oh? What's that, baby?" Lighter's tone was playful, but the look in his eye was filled with so much love. Bedroom or not, there were very few things he wouldn't try if it was for you - besides, since you'd chosen his birthday to ask, he figured you had something good for him.

"I want to tie you up."

Oh. That wasn't the sort of thing he'd expected. But he also hadn't expected that his first instinct would be excitement - sure, you'd taken the lead in bed before, but having that much control over him? Lighter swallowed thickly - god, that was so hot. Not what he'd had in mind for today, but hot.

"Not, like, a lot. And we don't have to! It's up to you, obviously-" you said, his momentary silence making you backtrack.

"Hey, breathe, babe, I'm not against it," Lighter's hand, still resting at the hemline of your panties, rubbed against your skin reassuringly. His words were chosen carefully, keeping the idea on the table without seeming too excited. He maintained a certain persona - one that, for the most part, crumbled the second you got him alone, but some instinct kept a few bricks of that wall up, not wanting to let out that being at your complete mercy sounded like heaven to him. "It's just... not what I expected. Doesn't the cliche go that you'd be the one tied up as a present for me?"

"Yeah, I know. But I know you, Lighter. You're far too good to me," you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, "And if I let you have your way with me, you're just going to be thinking about making me feel good. It's your birthday, I want to make it all about you- and do not even start about how you feel good when I do, that's not the point."

Slight surprise crossed Lighter as those exact words died on his tongue. You knew him so well, knew exactly how he loved you and how to love him back, all his rough spots and weak points, so you knew exactly where to push to make his last dregs of hesitation fly out the window, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

"Let me spoil you, birthday boy"

That's all it took for him to nod in agreement, following your instructions to get undressed and wait for you in the bedroom while you got changed. If he hadn't agreed before, the moment you came out in that lingerie, lacy white accented with black frills and bows, a sheer babydoll overtop that explained why you couldn't wear it under your dress, he'd have agreed in a heartbeat. Lighter tended to be weak to your every whim, but especially when your body was on display for him.

You'd arranged restraints as well, soft red rope with golden fastenings, and laughed as you fought off his attempts to touch and kiss you all over in that outfit, decidedly distracted despite the plans he himself had just agreed to, and fairly adept at distracting you, though not enough to stop his legs from being tied to opposing ends of the footboard, spread out, while one rope tied his wrists together and to the headboard above him. Fully exposed, and laid bare for you.

You were straddled across him now, resting on his chest just shy of where his dick, fully hard at this point, strained against his lower abdomen, your lips pressing kiss after kiss along his jaw, neck, collarbone. Tucked into your bra was a tube of lipstick, a shade of red you knew he adored on you, which you'd been using to litter his skin with red kiss marks, a pretty medley with the occasional purple mark you'd sucked onto him. You'd re-applied the product to your lips twice by now.

"Baby..." Lighter breathed, looking up at you with a frustrated pout. He'd meant it to sound warning, but it came out as more of a whine, the complete lack of attention to his leaking cock getting him increasingly desperate. The restraints on his legs kept any thrust of his hips from being meaningful, the ones on his hands stopped him from pulling you down lower. Not to mention, it was driving him insane not to touch you, seeing you looking so delectable and feeling your crotch on his chest and lips against his skin but nothing against his fingers.

"What?" you feigned innocence, but your gaze was lidded as you sat up and admired your masterpiece. Your nails raked lightly against his skin, just short of hard enough to graze him as they traveled lower. "I want to take my time with you."

Your nail caught on his nipple, drawing a sharp breath from his lips. You took the cue, lips finally reaching below his collarbone to close around the bud. A deep groan, his chest arching into your touch at the playful swirl of your tongue, two of your fingers rolling the other one. His breathing was heavy, hitching on every harsher tug or light suck as he tried to conceal just how sensitive you had him by now. But your mouth didn't stay put for long, the allure of leaving even more pretty red kiss marks on him simply too great. Still tweaking his nipple, you trailed kisses upwards, outlining the large jagged scar across his shoulder.

"You're so beautiful," you breathed against his skin, sitting up once again, eyes raking shamelessly over his body. The only thing he could get out was a choked moan, your words coinciding with a sharp pinch to his nipple. "Literally so perfect."

You really made his head spin - 'hot' and 'handsome' he heard often enough, and you called him 'cute' a lot, but 'beautiful'? Lighter wasn't sure anyone had called him beautiful before, especially not while lathing the reminders of his ugly past with affection that was simultaneously too much and not enough. He could only buck his hips fruitlessly, just short of the touch he needed to both release the tension and distract him from just how in love he felt, a feeling so overwhelming it scared him a little.

"You're amazing, Lighter-" you continued between kisses to his chest, "-so amazing-" your lipstick was basically gone now, a few smudges left around your mouth, but you didn't seem bothered about reapplying it this time, more concerned with kissing every possible inch of his skin, "-it is such a privilege to love you-" your mouth trailed lower, and amazingly, for the first time, so did the rest of your body, slowly sliding down his abdomen to give yourself more room "-and I'll tell you every opportunity I get-" and finally, finally you slid down low enough that you were seated on his dick "-I love you-" another kiss "-I love you-" and another "-I love you-" and suddenly your face was in front of his and you kissed him on the lips, greedily swallowing his groan as you roll your hips against his.

And it was all too much - the damp friction that he had been moments away from begging for, every word and touch you blessed him with, the ever-sweet sensation of your lips moving against his so deeply and tenderly - and when you finally pulled away, you could see the faint wet trail of a couple tears along his face, olive eyes glossy and looking up at you as if you were the answer to his every prayer. Still, a look of worry washed over you at the tears, movement of your hips stilling as you brushed the wetness away with your thumb.

"Are you okay?" you asked, and Lighter couldn't help but chuckle even as another stray tear slipped down his cheek at the soft concern in your voice.

"I don't deserve you," he managed, smiling at you so lovingly you just had to laugh along with him. You leaned down, another kiss on his lips as the tension melted from you.

"You deserve every good thing that comes your way, Lighter," you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear as your hips resumed their slow grinding. He almost felt a little pathetic, crying at your sweet words, but a well-aimed movement against his cock, the keening whine you let out as the head caught your clit, had all those thoughts flying out the window. His gasped moan harmonised with the clatter of his restraints against the bedframe as he momentarily forgot his hands were tied, automatically moving to try and grab your waist and push you down harder.

Though, as usual, you knew exactly what he needed, only grinding a moment more before you lifted to pull your panties to the side, ready to sink onto him-

"I- Wait-" Lighter managed, silently cursing himself for listening to the responsible part of his brain, "Don't you want to use a condom?"

"Do you?"

Your eyebrow quirked incredulously, playful smirk on your face like when you presented someone with a gift you knew they'd love, and the thought echoed in his mind so clearly Lighter was almost surprised he didn't say it out loud.

'I need to marry you.'

His reply must have been written across his face, though, because you resumed your movement, your head falling back at the stretch with virtually no preparation, while Lighter let out his own moan with the feeling of your gummy walls slowly taking in more and more of him. Finally seated fully on his cock, you shot him a smile, a little dazed at being so full, then started moving, a slow, sensual rhythm as you bounced lightly and grinded against him. He had to fight the instinct to let his head fall back, the show in front of him far too hypnotising as you fucked yourself on him, pretty moans falling from your lips at every tiny thrust he managed in his position.

"Shit, baby, so pretty for me, please-" you clenched around him at his praise, speeding your movements and causing another deep groan to escape him, "fuck, please, just like that, baby please-"

"What do you need?" you managed despite the way he filled you up so perfectly, taking in how gorgeous he looked, muscular chest littered with red kisses, face flushed and eyes glossy, raking over you with the same indulgence as those unspecified pleas tumbled out.

"Need- shit, need to hold you-" he cut himself off with a moan as you tightened around him, pulling at the restraints on his hands to accentuate his point. It didn't take him any more begging for you to reach up, slightly lifting off his cock to reach the fabric around his wrists. As pretty as he looked all laid out for you and yearning, you couldn't deny you missed his calloused hands on your skin.

As soon as the rope loosened enough for Lighter's wrists to slip out, he was sitting up, chest pressed against yours, one hand groping at your breasts as the other wrapped around your waist, pushing himself impossibly deeper, pulling you impossibly closer. He peppered your face with kisses, lopsided grin forming on his face as you couldn't help but giggle, before his face found its place in the crook of your neck, muttering sweet and filthy nothings into your skin as he lathed it in kisses and nips.

"I'm- fuck, I'm close-" he groaned, the hand on your breast migrating down to rub circles on your clit, the roughness of his fingertips against it sending your back arching.

"Inside. Please," you whined, bouncing yourself faster in time with his shallow thrusts, "'m close too-"

With one final sharp thrust and stuttered moan, Lighter spilled inside you, pulling you down as deep as you could possibly go. His head almost felt fuzzy as you spasmed around his sensitive length, pressing crescent shapes into his shoulders with your fingernails as the feeling of his hot seed sent you over the edge as well.

Gently, he lowered himself back down onto the bed, careful not to pull out as he pulled you down with him to lay on his chest. You looked up at him, that lovesick gaze he never really knew what to do with as you breathed heavily, coming down from your high.

"Did you like your present?" you managed, still singsong and playful as your finger traced the many outlines of your lips on his skin.

"I think-" Lighter responded, brushing a stray hair from your face before cupping your cheek, "I think I'm the luckiest man alive."

[tayraedoll]

Relax Dear

Had the urge to write how a bath with the Hazbin men would go. Enjoy these little blurbs for Alastor, Lucifer, and Vox!

PS- First ever attempt to write Vox!

MDNI 18+

TW- Suggestive themes, P in V intercourse, swearing, degradation kink, fluff.

Alastor-

You scowled, eyes squinting at the page in front of you as you attempted to read the same paragraph for the third time. A hefty sigh escapes your lips as you place your book on the side table, your hands coming up to rub your temples as you clench your eyes shut. It had been a rough day, you had gotten in between Vaggie and Angel during an argument and your head was pounding from enduring all the yelling that went back and forth. You were hoping that a good book would help you relax but reading only served to make your headache worse.

You feel a hand gently grasp your shoulder, "Are you alright Sha?"

A small smile graces your lips as you turn to your partner, Alastor. He was tucked into his own chair beside you, reading together was a nightly ritual you both enjoyed; you learned to make the most of these peaceful moments together and bask in each other's presence. A contented, close-lipped grin adorned his face, but you could see the concern in his eyes as he looked you over.

"Yea, I'm fine; just have a headache and- unfortunately- trying to read did not help relieve it at all. I actually think I will go take a bath for a bit", you squeeze his hand before getting up to make your way to your shared en suite.

Alastor places his own book down, "Excellent idea My Dear!", before following you into the bathroom. You raise an eyebrow at him; Alastor was not one for baths, he preferred showers claiming that a bath forced you to sit in your own filth.

"Do you plan to join me in the tub?", you ask incredulously, although you would not mind at all if he did.

"Ha! No Dear, absolutely not. But I'd rather not starve myself of your company, so I feel inclined to sit with you outside the tub if you'll allow me to."

You beam at him, delighted that he was willing to sit with you no matter what you did just so he could be near you. You go about gathering everything you need for your bath- lighting the candles, grabbing a towel, and pinning up your hair. You are finally able to add the finishing touch by adding your favorite bath bomb called Feeling Jazzy; you inhale a deep breath as the notes of spice and citrus envelope the water, the stress of the day already slipping away.

As you disrobe and climb into the tub, Alastor's cane begins playing soft jazz music. You close your eyes and lean your head back against the wall while you concentrate on relaxing every taut muscle in your body.

Your eyes fly open again when you feel warm hands gently grasp your shoulders and begin rubbing. You crane your neck around and peer up at Alastor as he smiles down at you, claws gently raking across your skin and sending shivers down your spine.

"Just relax Dear", his hand moves up to the nape of your neck and you let out a groan as his claws gently dig into your pressure points like makeshift acupuncture needles. Every limb turns to jelly as you relax in Alastor's hold, headache completely forgotten.

Lucifer-

You tilt your head at the sound of the bathroom door opening; even with the cool washcloth obstructing your view you knew exactly who had entered, his Angelic aura would give him away every time. Your skin prickled in goosebumps, your mind subconsciously reacting to the cosmically powerful being closing in on you.

Soft lips gently press to your forehead, "How's the bath Love?"

You remove the cloth from your eyes to find The King of Hell sweetly smiling down at you. Your eyes rake over his appearance, his blonde hair sticking out at odd angles like he kept running his hands through it, his eyes-though shining brightly- bore deep purple bags underneath, and his clothing was full of wrinkles. He looked absolutely exhausted, his duties keeping him holed up in his office all day.

You smile back at him before sighing, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, "It would be better if you joined me." Lucifer was not good at self-care, but you were hoping you could entice him into relaxing in the bath with you for just a little while.

A low chuckle echoes through the room; Lucifer knows exactly what you are doing, finding it endearing that you worry about his well-being. Though it was ridiculous for you to fret over a being as powerful as he, it was nice to know you cared so much about him. Why not indulge you every now and then?

You watched as the king stripped, eyes greedily roaming over every contour and dip of lean muscle exposed. When he got into the tub, he moved to the side opposite you so you were facing each other, legs tangled together.

A low groan of relief escaped his lips as the hot water enveloped his frame causing you to bite your lip as your thighs clenched at the sound. Perhaps there were other ways you could get your king to relax. You pointed your toes on one foot and began to slowly push them up the inside of one of his legs, watching with glee as the action caused him to shiver.

Just before your toes could reach their goal he swiftly grabbed your wandering limb. "Was there something else you wanted to do Love?", Lucifer smiled at you devilishly as he pressed his thumbs into the ball of your foot, one claw raking down into the arch. A strangled noise halfway between a gasp and a moan hissed between your teeth, your thighs clenching together again. Damn this man and his talented hands.

You bat your eyes at him, leaning forward just enough that your breasts break above the water and you do not miss the way his eyes dart down to your chest immediately. "Do you like the smell of the bath bomb Luci?", you ask as your hands grip his legs at the knees, using them to pull yourself closer to him.

Lucifer's face is flushed, he is trying hard and utterly failing at not staring at your bare chest, "Uh-what? Smell? Oh yes! It smells lovely!" his voice is higher than usual and he tries to cough to cover his embarrassment.

You slowly crawl up his body, your hand trailing up his torso and causing his abs and pecs to twitch. Leaning down, you softly whisper in his ear, "The scent is called 'All Hail the Queen'", and nip his earlobe. A whimper escapes the man below you as his hands wrap around your hips, his erection pressing against your core.

You lean back, taking his face in your hands as you smile at his wide eyes and golden cheeks. "Relax Dear", you purr as you sink down on him.

Vox-

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!", you cry out, your thighs burning from impaling yourself on Vox's cock over and over again. The water sloshed around in the tub, some of it escaping onto the bathroom floor. You knew what was in store for you as soon as Vox whispered "Bath time" into your ear; bathes with the TV host often left you dirtier than you were before you got in the bath.

The Overlord's large hands pushed you forward slightly so your hands were braced on the tub floor, the angle letting him hit deeper inside of you as he gripped your hips and took control of the speed.

"Fuck Baby just like that; such a flithy little slut!", Vox growled behind you.

His ruthless pace had you seeing stars, momentarily you mused over how fitting that was. Vox often called you his Star, the one possession he was completely unwilling to share- not even with the other Vees. Even the bath bomb he always used before fucking you in the tub was called Hollywood Star. The man encompassed everything that was Hollywood glamour, and he would always be the star of your own heart.

One hand fisted into your hair as the other slid around the front of you to swirl tight circles around your clit. Your thighs quaked as your body went taut, your orgasm crashing over you with a scream of his name.

"I love it when you scream my name! FUUUUCK!", Vox spilled into you, your releases mixing together in the water. He pulled you back into his chest, a hand combing through the mess your hair turned into. You let his warmth seep into you, your head lolled over to his shoulder.

Before long, you felt his member beginning to harden again within you. Vox was rarely finished after just one round, but it always surprised you how fast he was ready to go again. A small whimper escaped your lips, hips squirming uncomfortably as he filled you again.

"Relax Dear, we are only getting started."

[bunny-jpeg]

the dnf club (vol. 3)

alex albon

tags: smut/pwp, brazil gp '24, gentle sex, praise (kink), missionary, established relationship, affection & laughter, large chested!reader

a/n: another edition of the dnf club. i can't believe there were five dnfs at the brazil gp! as a result, i present to you the dnf club!

carlos edition // franco edition // lance edition // nico edition

"alex!" you chirped as you wrapped your arms around your lover. a terrible day on the track couldn't be solved without a few kisses. you leaned over him as you gave him a kiss on the cheek, "you'll get 'em next time."

he smiled a little at your affection towards him. you always tried to see the best side of things. always told him that one race is one race, and that there are far too many to worry about one dnf. but, the season was winding down.

"i know, love. just a little beaten down by it."

back in the motor home for the team, you knew that you had some time before you had to pack up for the weekend. franco would be returning soon and he too was already brow beaten from his own dnf.

you didn't want to rub it in with the sound of the bed's headboard rocking against the wall. franco got to mope alone while alex at least could smother himself in your soft skin.

and alex did just that. you stripped of your clothes and got into bed with him. he was down to his briefs as he laid on top of you, mindful of the weight on you. and rested his face between your breasts. the strong emotions melted away as soon as your played with his dark hair.

"honey." he groaned as he shifted a little. you kissed the top of his head and he shuddered.

"i love you so much. i'm still proud of you for giving it your all today. you did good." you praised him and alex's cock twitched in his briefs. you tilted his face up to look at you and you went for a heated kiss. he groaned against the kiss and you smiled against his lips.

it was true, you were quite proud of your lover. your partner. your boyfriend. you could never drive a formula one car, so for him to do it week after week was amazing. his ability to think of the fly, be in total control of vehicle while surrounded by other vehicle going at insane speeds was something to admire.

"i'm just happy your safe. it's a lot easier to fix a car than it would be to fix you if you got hurt." you patted his cheek lovingly.

he replied softly, "of course, i have to come home to you after every race." he kissed the valley of your breasts soon after and moved away. he looked down at you as he braced his hands on either side of you.

you smiled up at him, then pulled him down a little to give him a soft, tender kiss. when he broke it, you yelped as he took you by the hips and leaned your bottom half up against him. your slick pussy across the front of his dark briefs, leaving a little wetness on the fabric.

you splayed your hands across his chest. your nails painted the same colour as the williams team colours. you even had alex's number painted on your thumb. you smiled up at him lovingly and said, "good, you better come home to me." then broke into a wife grin, "because you know i'll change the locks."

he chuckled a little, "oh i know." he leaned in to kiss you before he rested on his knees and worked to get his briefs too. once he was nude, he added, "sometimes i'd rather be at home with you then on the track."

you blushed and adverted your gaze for a moment, "you flirt." you knew you were special to alex, he adored you. you weren't just lovers but also friends, each other's support through everything.

he replied, "only for you. i love seeing you embarrassed when i give you compliments." he leaned forward and rubbed his cock up against your slick entrance with one hand on your thigh, "you look adorable when i make you squirm." then sank his cock into you. you tensed up for a moment before you were able to relax a little, letting him slip into you.

"fuck, alex." you shuddered, "you feel like heaven." you smiled a little and he leaned down to kiss you. you two had been together for long enough, you knew each other's bodies painfully well. how to make each other feel good. alex was a generous lover, he always wanted to make you feel good.

but after a rough day at the track, you wanted to make sure he felt good. that you could help heal the wound of a dnf. that you could restore a little bit of his confidence.

"my darling man." you giggled, "my everything." you said with a soft love in your tone. alex just leaned closer, hands on either side of you once more as he moved against you. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let him move against him. you licked your lips a little, the taste of your lips gloss. you noticed the gooey gloss across alex's lips.

he looked cute in bubblegum flavor.

"you're beautiful." he said as he moved against you. his pace wasn't particularly rough. he rocked against you and he gave you a soft smile. there was something about you that turned him on greatly. not just you beautiful looks, but also how sweet you were. your kindness knew no bounds, you seemed to light up every room you were in. he could still remember when you found a stray dog near your apartment and chased it down. you then sat with it outside all afternoon, even getting a sunburn, until the owner was found.

you were his friend, his lover, his girlfriend. hell, his future wife (he knew you'd die if he called you that). even at alex's worse, he still was confident that you loved him. and he in turn loved you, a deep kind of love. a steady foundation for a life to built on top of. and even with the immense chaos of formula one, you always had one another.

he went in for another kiss and continued to move against you. he gripped onto the covers under you. he moaned into the kiss and you smiled against his lips. you pulled away and said, "you're amazing. if they had a trophy for the best boyfriend in the world. you'd be the record holder for it."

he chuckled, "i wish that was an award as well. but, i'm afraid if they had one for best girlfriend, it would be unfair to every other woman on the planet." his voice warmed your soul, his words made you giggle and before you could cover your face in embarrassment. he took you by the hands and pinned them to the soft bed under you, "don't hide yourself from me." he continued to move against you.

you moaned, "i'm supposed to be the one praising you. not the world way around." you back arched a little bit from the movements. you felt the leap in your chest as the pace moved a little faster.

"you've already done enough. every day you do more than enough for me." he captured your lips once more. you moaned against his lips and felt his warmth around you. you felt safe in his touch, how could you not? he loved you down to the very fibre of your soul.

you held his hands as he moved against you. when the kiss broke, you smiled at him. you could see the warmth in his smile. you giggled a little, "you're something else, alex."

"that's good because you're something else as well." he felt the curl of pleasure in his gut as he continued to move against you. even with such a bad weekend and the inability to race. he knew at the very least he could be by your side. kiss you as much as he liked.

the bed shifted a little as his pace increased.

"that smile of yours." he groaned, "lights up my life."

you clutched his hands tighter, "and what about mister albon? i see how you smile in front of the cameras versus when it's just us. you're charming with the press. but, you beyond amazing when it's just us." you tightened your legs around his waist and he shifted his position to get a better angle with you.

"of course i am." he said as he kissed the side of your jaw, "how could i not? you just bring something out in me. even when the races go bad or the car breaks. i know seeing you will just light me up right again. i have to be a certain way with the press. but with you, i can just be me." you pouted a little at his sweet comment and he kissed you on the lips once more. the kiss was feverish as the two of you felt closer to your orgasms.

"don't pout, my love. i'm only telling the truth." and you felt the race of pleasure through your body.

you held onto his hands tightly as he moved against you. your tensed up quickly as you came around his cock. the heat of pleasure bloomed in your gut. orgasm crashed over you and you felt amazing. alex went in for a heated kiss and held onto your hands tightly, pressed them into the bed as he worked your pussy some as you orgasmed.

he hissed through his teeth as he soon finished as well. the rush of pleasure made him curse under his breath as he continued to work your achy cunt. he let go of your hands and you took him by the face to kiss him on the lips. soon he slowed to a stop and his face ended up back between your breasts as you both panted heavily.

"i love you so much." he said as he held you tightly.

you kissed the top of his head and played with his hair once more. you felt warm against him. comfortable with your love for one another. you whispered promises against his head.

"my amazing girlfriend. my amazing love." he held onto you tightly as he got comfortable. any anxiety or anger that lingered from the results of the race seemed to vanish.

there was always the next race, and that one he knew he'd be successful with. he knew he could dnf an entire season and he'd still go home to you. love you in every way he could. because you, in the simplest terms, were his everything <3

[captainsophiestark]

Oblivious

Damon Salvatore x Reader

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Written for Fictober 2024! Requested by @elenavampire21 - hope you like it! Thanks for being patient while I got it done!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Day Thirty-One Prompt: "It's always been you."

Summary: You've always felt like the lowest priority out of everyone in the Mystic Falls group, but Damon disagrees.

Word Count: 1,905

Category: Fluff, light Angst

A/N: That's a wrap on Fictober baby! Woohoo! And Happy Thanksgiving everybody!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I hummed to myself as I scanned my bookshelf, trying to decide which one to grab. Since moving into college at Whitmore, I'd mostly just brought my favorites, since I didn't have much book space to spare in my single dorm room. But bringing all of my favorites made it a little hard to decide what to read on any given day.

I'd just about made up my mind, actually reaching out to grab one when the door to my room went flying open, smashing into the opposite wall.

I whirled around, my fight or flight response kicking into overdrive as I tried to remember where the nearest stake was in my room. I'd been dragged into the supernatrual drama just by being tangental to a certain friend group in Mystic Falls, which meant I was on high alert for supernatural threats. This weekend in particular, everyone I knew was back in Mystic Falls for a visit and a party.

At least, they were supposed to be. As I whipped around towards the door, I came face to face with none other than Damon Salvatore.

My heart started a very annoying gymnastics routine. I'd had a crush on Damon for a long time, despite knowing all his supernatural secrets, but with Elena around he'd never bothered to give me the time of day. I'd made my peace with it, more or less, but suddenly finding him standing in the doorway of my room, his piercing blue eyes fixed absolutely on me, still sent my heart racing.

"Hey! What are you doing?" I demanded, fixing Damon with the fiercest glare I could muster. Probably not very fierce at the moment, but I did my best.

"You should really keep this locked," Damon drawled instead of answering me. I scowled as he closed the door behind him, then took a few steps closer to me.

"We're in a crowded student dorm hall. It's normally not a problem."

"Well, it's a problem now."

Damon grinned at me, making a point of flashing his fangs. My scowl deepened.

"Do you not have to be invited in to student housing?" I asked, trying to deflect and distract Damon from paying any attention to my heartbeat. His grin only widened.

"Nope. I've used that to my advantage many times."

I tried to keep a grimace off my face at that. I knew enough about Damon and his history to realize he was refering to past hookups as much as anything else. Not my favorite subject to get into with him.

I cleared my throat, trying to push the thoughts out of my mind. I met Damon's gaze again and raised an eyebrow, going for casual and just hoping I could kind of pull it off.

"Why are you here?" I said. "Aren't you supposed to be hosting a party in Mystic Falls?"

"Aren't you supposed to be at that party with me?" Damon asked, voice low as he took another few steps towards me. I let out a little huff and looked away.

"Believe it or not, I'm not in the mood to go running back home every weekend that I'm at college. I have work to do and people I want to spend time with this weekend, both of which require me to stay here."

Damon stepped even closer to me, getting in my space and moving to try to see my expression. When I continued to look away from him, he took my chin in his hand and turned me to face him. I scowled, but didn't pull away.

"I don't believe you."

"What do you mean 'you don't believe me'?"

"I mean, when you explained your reasoning to me just now, your heartbeat told me you were lying." I frowned, but Damon just leaned in a little closer, his grip still tight on my chin. "So why aren't you in Mystic Falls?"

I huffed and rolled my eyes, finally pulling back and out of his grip. He let me go, but took a few steps to follow me across the room as I walked away.

"I'm just sick of all the supernatural drama," I said. "It's been nice to be here, building something separate from which vampire we're trying to kill this week, or which werewolf is trying to kill us. I'm happy here, and I don't want to blow all that up by going home and finding myself in the middle of the supernatural drama again."

Damon hummed. Nothing I'd said was a lie, technically, so he couldn't call me out like he had earlier. I kept my back to him so he couldn't read it in my face either.

"I guess that's the truth," Damon said, his voice way too casual. "But I know you well enough to know it's not the whole truth."

I snorted, then whipped around to face Damon with a scowl.

"Why do you care? I gave you an explanation, and it's the truth, so it's all you're getting."

Damon shook his head as he stepped even closer to me.

"Not gonna work for me, sweetheart. I'm not leaving here without the whole truth."

"Why? Damon, seriously, why is this so important to you?"

"Because. Now are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to compel it out of you?"

He wiggled his eyebrows at me, but I just rolled my eyes.

"We both know I'm on vervain, so knock it off. Just go back to Mystic Falls. Flirt with Elena to mess with your brother, whatever! Just leave me alone!"

"I don't want to flirt with Elena," Damon said, taking another step towards me. His voice was low, and more serious than I usually heard it, as his eyes locked onto mine. "I want to flirt with you, no one else. It's always been you."

Everything about Damon's tone and body language told me he was serious, but I knew what a good actor he could be when he wanted to. I scoffed and rolled my eyes, crossing my arms and squaring my shoulders to face Damon.

"Oh please. It's always been Elena, from day one with you! And the handful of times it hasn't been Elena? It's been just about anybody else in our group besides me. Caroline, that reporter Andie, the vampire Rose who kidnapped Elena... hell, even Rebekah Mikaelson! But never once me, Day."

Damon's frown had deepend, and he actually looked a little wounded. He took another step closer, almost putting us chest to chest, and opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but I put up a hand to stop him before he could get a word out.

"It's fine, Damon. Seriously, it's not a crime for you to not reciprocate my feelings. And I'm not avoiding Mystic Falls all because of some one-sided crush. But, seriously. Bonnie, Caroline, and Elena were supposed to be in a triple together. Nobody even checked with me, if I might want to join them in a dorm, since we were all going to Whitmore. I know I got sucked into the group by accident and not really by friendship, but for fuck's sake, I've thrown myself headfirst into this world and trying to help you guys, and still, it's like I'm barely even present. So I decided to say screw it, and I've made a bunch of great friends here outside of all this vampire shit, and I'm happy with that. So just go back to your party and leave me alone. I'd say pass the message on, but I doubt if anybody else'll notice."

Damon's frown had been steadily deepening the whole time I'd been speaking, and now he looked truly upset. I'd confessed a little more to him in the heat of the moment than I'd been planning to, but my words were still true. Maybe it was time for a full break from the rest of the Mystic Falls gang, and maybe this was how I got it done.

"Are you... absolutely blind?" Damon demanded, reaching out to take my hands before I could stop him. "I'll admit, when I first met Elena, she looked so much like Katherine that I was a little hung up on her. But I got over her when I got over Katherine. All I've been doing since a few weeks after I met you is trying to flirt with you! You've always shut me down!"

"What? Damon, you're crazy-"

"I abandoned Ric at the bar to buy you a drink and play pool. I blew off Stefan to go to some stupid Mystic Falls festival with you. For god's sake, I even asked you on a date after your graduation!"

"No no no, that was playful flirting. And the date thing was to make Elena jealous!"

"The date thing was not to make Elena jealous!"

I laughed, mostly out of panic, shaking my head and stepping back from Damon. He didn't let me get far. He followed me across the room until my back hit the wall, and then stepped into my space again. I looked up at him with wide eyes, and I knew he could hear just how fast my heart was beating.

"Damon, come on. You're... you. If you'd had a thing for me for over a year, there's no way I wouldn't know about it!"

"That's what I kept telling myself," he muttered. The faintest possible smile made its way onto his face. "I'm actually a little relieved it turns out you're just oblivious."

I snorted, but my heart had picked up speed again, which honestly shouldn't have been possible. If Damon were lying... well, it didn't make sense for Damon to be lying. There was no reason for him to come all the way down here, especially while everyone else in our group was throwing a party at his house, all for a lie with no real motivation.

I searched Damon's face, this time without a scowl. He smirked back at me and let his gaze slowly, clearly wander down to my mouth. I laughed.

"You're serious, aren't you? You're telling the truth."

"Of course I'm telling the truth," he said. His voice was more sincere and serious than it had been since he'd walked into my room as the smirk on his face became more of a smile. Slowly, he let one hand wander down to rest on my waist. I bit my lip, considering for just a second, then surged forward and kissed him.

Damon wasted no time pushing me against the wall and kissing me back. I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting myself get lost in the moment.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back to Mystic Falls?" I breathed between kisses as Damon moved along my neck and jaw. "You're missing a party in your own house."

"I'm sure. I hid all my good booze before I left. And I hate to rub it in, but..." Damon pulled back just enough to look me in the eye and let a predatory grin spread across his face. "I'm pretty happy you ended up in a single dorm room right now."

I laughed, something I honestly never thought I'd be able to do about the way I'd ended up in this single dorm room. Leave it to Damon to find a way to make it happen, despite the odds.

It'd taken a lot more drama and heartache than it should've to get here. Still, as Damon wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight to his chest, I got the distinct impression that it would be worth it.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

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[erwinsvow]

imagine if rafe and pogue reader’s relationship was just a bet between him and his kook friends, to see if he could ACTUALLY get her to fall in love with him, like to get her to be all over him and how long that would last, and the reader finds out omgggg. And they break up lol

you think the ending bits of the conversation between your boyfriend and his friends hurts more than everything you just overheard.

"you really think i'd settle for some fuckin' pogue pussy? nah man, top owes me fifty bucks now."

you hadn't heard the entire exchange, just from the part where you heard your name. stupidly, like a naive girl in love with the type of boy she'd only ever dreamt about, you tuned in, thinking rafe was telling his friends something you'd want to hear.

hiding—as embarassing as it is—behind the wall, holding back tears though they don't care enough to stay held back, they pour down your cheeks as the hits keep coming. the boys laugh, but the ringing in your ears had been so loud you hadn't heard the rest of the joke, didn't understand what was so funny.

the first thought in your mind is that you can't believe how stupid you were. the second is that pope and jj and john b had all been right, that it was too good to be true, that he was playing you somehow, that he was a liar and scumbag. you had ignored what your best friends had been telling you, trying so hard to believe that they were wrong, that they didn't know rafe, or at least your rafe, the one who was sweet and funny and never let you drive anywhere or pay for a thing, the one who paraded you around town like you were something who deserved to be showed off, the one who you took back to your tiny house and introduced to your hard-working parents.

you resist the urge to slide down the wall you're leaning against, though every muscle in your body wants to keel over and cry until you can't cry anymore.

you'd been embarassed enough—they didn't need to see you like this too. wiping away tears with the back of your hand, sniffling but trying to stay quiet, you wait for the boys to walk away so you could sneak out of here and pretend that you'd never even come—though you'd only come because rafe said he was having friends over and you'd baked them some snacks for their game, thought you were being a good girlfriend and doing the things a good girlfriend does.

footsteps and laughter echo in the other room—they're gone. the second it's silent, a sob wrangles itself out, eyes getting blurry again. you don't know how you're gonna bike home if you can't stop crying. your fingers fly across your screen, dialing jj's number. you'd been upset at the blond because he seemed to be the most against you and rafe dating, had the meanest things to say and was the first to insinuate there was something wrong if rafe wanted to date you.

you'd been so insulted, so hurt by his words that the two of you had gone from talking every single day to maybe once a week. you hope he doesn't hold it against you now, but a part of you knows jj never would—that's just the kind of guy he is. he answers by the second ring, and you try to stay quiet, just incase they hear you.

"j? can you come get me? i-um, i'm at tannyhill-" the last part is said with another sob, breaking into a fit of tears again. he says he's with pope and that he's coming, and you hate that they heard you cry, because knowing the two of them they'll go thirty over if they think you're upset. you wanna get out of here, but you don't want them to die.

heart thudding, eyes watery, limbs weak, you stay against that wall for a moment. before you can make your way to the door, rafe's figure steps in to where you are. he sees you before you see him—shoulders shaking, hands wiping away tears.

when you turn to look at him, it doesn't take more a second to know you heard something you shouldn't have.

"hey, listen to me-" he gets closer, and you flinch, backing away. you want to say something mean, something snarky, something that'll hurt him as much as he's hurt you. nothing comes out, and you stare back at him, and you hope he remembers how hard he's made you cry, because you've decided it then and there—you're never seeing rafe cameron ever again.

you dart past him to the door. he follows, reaching out to grab you, but you take off, running down his driveway and into the truck he recognizes as heyward's. you get in, in between pope and jj. the last thing he sees is you crying into maybank's chest while they drive you away, and the last thing he thinks is wondering what the hell he had just done.