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isabeauwolf · 1 day ago

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After writing for him multiple times myself 💙🤭🫣

Guess this is my boyfriend Dabi head canons (Of course, I'm always late 🤣 Whoops) SFW Edition

(Please excuse, if these are out of order 🫣 I'm trying to remember everything on the spot)

💙 Dabi would be the yandere and tsundere boyfriend combo. (You can't change my mind!)

💙 He would be mean and bully you, call you weak; it's the only example he's had given who his father.

💙 Would contradict himself by searching for you whenever you are in a room together. Saying it was to make sure you didn't run off or do something stupid. That's on the surface, but internally, he's fearing you would run away from him, abandon him; being one of those "overly romanticized villain chasers" and flee when he becomes villainous, cold, ruthless and his more feral nature pokes its ugly head.

💙Controlling, selfish, manipulative, easily jealous and hiding his true feelings. Blaming you for making him love you or any other feelings you've dragged out of him, long sense buried; the lost embers of his humanity.

💙 When you stay, stare into his eyes; actually, look at him and not through him. It's when he falters and his breath hitches in his burnt lungs and his blacked heart skips. It makes him want to tease and bully you harder, see you flustering and blushing cutely just for him.

💙 Anyone flirts with you? Tries to take you away from him; he'd burn them to ashes without a second thought or after following them, giving them a shake down, a scare and then burn'em.

💙 Put a tracker on your phone or person, so he knows where you are at all times; hell, a microchip. Whichever comes to mind first.

💙 Would absolutely hate when handfreak sends you on missions alone; he'd rather be paired with you like the not so secret overly protective and stubborn jackass that he is.

💙 Give you pet names: baby, spitfire, cry baby, my love; princess, doll

💙 If you come back to him or The Hideout injured. He's seeing red, he's furious; azure blues glaring as he assessing every inch of you for injuries. He kept telling himself he shouldn't care. Shouldn't waste his time. And yet, he does. He does and he hates it, it's annoying. Then when he doesn't see that annoying, happy go lucky smile on your dopey face, you hurt, in pain, bleeding and trying to shrug it off; he's mad at himself for allowing some nameless villain wannabe to hurt you. His doll. His partner. His lover. He feels his body heat up, his quirk thrumming, boiling in his veins, hands twitch as the muscles in his neck tightens and body tenses, his jaw grinds.

💙 With only a few simple words, he drags you away from the others and shoves you into his room. Tells you to sit on his bed as the black-haired flame villain tries to calm himself as he half saunters and half fast walks into his bathroom and comes back with a med kid. "Show me." He's not asking, it's a command. "And be quick about it, doll." You do as you are told, turning and showing him your side. His half-lidded gaze widens when he notices all of the scares on your back. His anger and rage rise higher, nearly during the kit into cinders.

💙 When you call his Villain name he snaps out of it. Releasing a hard explain of exasperation through his nose as he gets to work as you explain what happened. He tries to act nonchalant, tries not to giveaway that he's listening, focusing on every detail: your attacker, where you were and what they looked like as you try not to break down and cry. You bite your bottom lip, your body trembling as he finishes the last of covering your wounds, whispering that you were sorry for being a burden, both to him and The League.

💙 He hates it. He hates how much your words hurt him, affect and makes his heart hurt, bashing yourself as memories of his former self, Touya Todoroki, the lingering phantom and shadows resurfacing. Hitting hard as if you had turned around and physically struck him. Dabi surprises himself, hesitantly and awkwardly pulling you into his embrace; being mindful of your wound as you finally breakdown, openingly crying and sobbing into his chest and his shirt. Clinging onto him as he holds you.

💙 He remains there until your tears have dried, rubbing his large heated hands into your hair or on your back, in small circles. He mentally curses himself for the old muscle memory of helping and holding his younger siblings, his humanity coming back to him. He supposed he could let this slide, a one-time thing, he tells himself.

💙 Yes, Dabi's decided that once you are asleep, he'll avenge you himself. He felt excitement bubbling as he felt inwardly giddy, the thrill of the hunt, the chase, the thought of seeing that low level, low life thug screaming, whimpering and howling in pain, kneeling on the ground underneath his boot heel and begging for mercy when they didn't give you any. Didn't stop when you pleaded, tears streaming down your face, crying for help, for mercy, for him, your friends; knowing a Hero wouldn't come.

💙 After you were asleep and tucked into his bed. Dabi was surprised when Toga, Twice, Mister and Shigaraki were waiting for him outside. Kurogiri and Magne decided to stay and protect you back at the hideout. The rest of The League followed him, stalking like thieves in the night until they found the person who'd hurt you. It was easy to find them. They were bragging and gloating about what they had done; saying The LOV was a pack of weaklings. It is more personal now, both their pride and for avenging you. The group of Villains swarmed on your attacker like a pack of ravenous jackals, demonic angels of vengeance, all teeth, glee and madness.

💙 Who knew that you made The League of Villains, a group of crazies and outcasts bond and grow closer? You may be Dabi's partner, but you were a part of their found family. It was a glorious bonding experience.

More fluff and sweet moments Dabi "pretends" not to notice~

💙 The half-awake and half asleep, dopey smile you give him as he hands you coffee makes his blacked and charcoaled heart melt. He feels his mismatched lips quirk into a ghost of a smile.

💙 Deny it all he wants, but he loves when you cuddle against him in the middle of the night. Once or twice, okay, a handful of times, he's pulled you into his side or onto his chest, or nuzzles his face into your chest, savoring your warmth, your steady breathing. Knew if he did this while you two were awake, you'd tease him.

Your first I love you's and kisses

💙 When he finally admits that he loves you, it's awkward and impulsive. He'd been wanting to tell you. Said in his head over and over again until you called his name and it slipped out, "I love you, Y/n." Your eyes widen, mouth falling open and he knew he'd messed up and said it too soon! He tries to play it off, but you don't buy it. He flounders, blushing harder against his semi-normal and burnt skin as your lips curl into a smile, batting your pretty lashes at him and ask coyly, "You love me?"

💙 He bites the inside of his cheek and grumbles, "What of it? What if I do? So what, doll?" His heartbeat thunders hard against his ribcage as he waits for your answer. Your rejection. He stomach twitching in knots as his anxiety flares and he hates it. What were you doing to him?!

💙 Your smile widens, it's bright and beaming as you hug him when he becomes further embarrassed and glances away. "Good." You lean on your tiptoes and kisses his heated, scarred and stapled cheek. "I love you too, Dabi." You surprised him. You gently cup his cheek, turning his head towards yours and kissing him, his lips against yours. You. You stole his first kiss?! Stole so many of his firsts. His eyes widened, his breath hitches and leaves his lungs as you pull away; a cute noticeable blush creeping across your face. "Sorry, it was a heat of the moment kind of thing." You muttered shyly.

💙 He blinked, turquoise eyes dazed until he inwardly shook himself. His jaw twitches, lips curling into a smug smirk, filled with amusement and mischief sparkling behind his azure blues orbs. "Well, look who grew bold today?" He hums.

💙 Your face turns redder as you bury your face into his chest. "Shut up. If I didn't kiss you first you wouldn't do it." Your voice is muffled by his clothes, but he hears you. Oh. Oh, no. Now you've done it. You've challenged him.

💙 Oh? So you want his fire? His passion? His all consuming embers and hellfire. He had been holding himself back. He didn't want you to run away and take his time. But if you challenge him like that. The games has changed. You've unknowingly lit the coals underneath him and his competitive nature. Dabi's smirk widens into something wolfish and feral, hungry as both of his large, warm hands cradle the side of your face and force you to meet his gaze. "Is that a challenge, doll?" He teases. He's not angry. Far from it, he's secretly happy that you wanted to kiss him. Wanted him as much as he wanted you. "You wanna kiss me? C'mon don't grow shy on me now."

💙 You nod your head, raising your hands to cover his. Not to push him away. No. You skate your palms along his skin, touch featherily light and inch your hands along his firearms, his shoulders and behind his neck, pressing yourself closer, chest to chest and wrapping your hands behind his head.

💙 Dabi chuckles. "Words, doll." Something dark and amused, dangerous as he tries to ignore his traitorous heart fluttering. "Use your words." He encourages, trying to coax more of your stubbornness he's fond of. It's there. He notices your sass and grit forming on your face through the flustered expression and shyness. There you are. He thought inwardly chuckling to himself. My courageous doll. My spitfire. My doll. All mine.

💙 You lick your lips, his blues follows, then flickers back to your eyes. "Yes and what if I do want to kiss you?" You ask back. Something soft. Waiting. Testing the waters. Teasing. Challenging.

💙 Dabi tilts his head. "Then whatcha waiting for? You want a kiss? My fire?" He lowers, hovering over you, caging you against him and the wall, heated hands leaving your face to travel to the back of your head and the other behind the small of your back. "Think you can handle me?" He whispers. Excitement, and twinge of desire growing. "I don't like doin' shit half-assed, pretty baby."

💙 There is it. The smirk curling along your own lips. "As long as you don't chicken out, Dabi." There's the sassy little thing that drew him in and stole his heart.

💙 That earns you a laugh, low and raspy, playful. "Don't regret your choices when you get burned." He takes initiative and control this time. Bringing you into a soft and tender kiss, once again contradicting himself. It doesn't last long. He moves his lips along your own, it's awkward and unsure, then grows more raw, heated, passionate and all consuming, possessive as he pours all of his twisted, mixed-up feelings into it. Trying to tell you without words, his affection for you. How much you make him ache. How much you make him burn and yearn for more. More of your kisses, more of your touches, more of your love and affection, he wants everything you have to give. Growing more greedier as his breaths mingle with your own before finally pulling away. "I'm far from satisfied, baby." He pants, gasping for air as he pulls you back for another kiss. "You'll let me, won't you?" He whispers, breathlessly, his lips tingling as he shivers. Wondering what other feelings and emotions you will brag out of him. "You want another." He kisses you, a light peck. "Another." He does it again. "And another." He hums, chuckling when you nod your head, gasping and knees buckled as you cling onto him.

💙 He continues to tease you in between heated kisses. If even you try to stop him now, he doesn't know, if he could let you go now. You've awakened the greedy, touch and love starved beast caged and chained for too long. Deprived of affection, acceptance, warmth and the embers are only scorching higher, escalating, spreading and isn't stopping.

💙 Only on the rare occasion when you two are alone he would smother you, cling onto you, silently beg for your attention like the love and touch starved, dramatic man baby that he is. Secretly spoil you with stuff he's stolen and completely deny it was from him.

(If I could do a steamy, NSFW Editon and you wanna be a part of the taglist or any of my other Dabi fanfics, let me know, my lovelies!)

Okay, I lied. I had to through in some sprinkles of spice in there! I couldn't help it! It was too perfect not to. X////x

#Isabeau's Boyfriend Dabi Head Canon's #Boyfriend Dabi Head Canon's #Sorry I'm late!#Dabi Brainrot is back!#Blue Eyed Cassanova #Pyro #villain lover #Dabi #Isabeau Writes #mha dabi #Dabi x reader

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kikyoupdates · 10 months ago

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Rivalry | Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader

katsuki catches feelings for his new rival

Bakugou Katsuki has a crush, and he refuses to admit it.

There’s a girl in his class who drives him absolutely insane. All throughout middle school, he’s had the top grades. His attitude, foul mouth, and appearance may fool people into believing he’s a delinquent—and to some extent, he is—but the truth is that he has a rigid, early bedtime, he does all his homework diligently, he studies at great length for tests, and he’s never missed a single day of class.

He’s the best student there is. Or rather—he’s just the best in general.

But this year, everything changed.

There’s something about you that seems to catch everyone’s eye. You showed up at the beginning of the school year, a new transfer student, and from that moment onward, Katsuki swears his life got flipped upside down.

You’re gifted. You’ve got the best grades not only in the class, but out of everyone in the whole school. Every time exam scores are posted for others to see, Katsuki is forced to grit his teeth at the sight of your name at the very top, time and time again.

It’s not just your grades, though. You’ve got a powerful Quirk, too. It’s some kind of energy control that allows you to levitate objects, enhance your physical strength, and also defend against attacks. It’s strong and versatile. Perfect for becoming a hero—which is exactly what you plan to be.

The final nail in the coffin is that you’re also popular.

Katsuki is used to being the center of attention wherever he goes. He’s used to being complimented for his intellect, his talent, his strength, and the sheer magnitude of his presence. Thanks to everyone praising him to high heaven, ever since he was a kid, his ego has become massively inflated.

So, when he realizes that people are paying more attention to you than they are to him, he doesn’t know how the hell he’s supposed to handle it.

Katsuki finds himself glaring at you just about constantly. You’ve always got a group of students gathered around you. You’re always smiling and laughing, looking carefree as can be. You’re also the only person in the whole class who doesn’t treat Izuku like dirt—which just pisses him off even more.

One day, you stop in front of his desk with a bright smile.

“Here you go, Bakugou,” you say, handing him a cookie. “This is for you.”

Katsuki looks up at you in disbelief. “Why would I ever want this shit?”

“I dunno. It was my birthday recently, so I baked cookies to hand out to the class. Don’t you want one? I thought everyone likes cookies.”

“I would rather die than eat that,” he snarls, and he angrily shoves the cookie back into your hands.

He’s dramatic as all hell, of course, and that kind of vicious remark would have been more than enough to make anyone feel self-conscious. It was needlessly harsh. He obviously didn’t mean it. Given the option of eating your cookie or dying, he would definitely eat the cookie.

Not that it really matters, though.

You’re completely unfazed.

“Damn, I didn’t know you were deathly afraid of cookies,” you muse. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for next time. What about cupcakes? Are cupcakes safe for you to eat?”

Katsuki’s entire face turns red. “That’s obviously not what I meant, asshole!”

“I know,” you giggle, and for some reason, the sound makes Katsuki’s heart skip a beat. “Sorry for teasing. You’re really funny, Bakugou. I like you.”

He parts his lips to respond, but he’s incapable of forming any words. It feels like whatever he was about to say just died in the back of his throat. All of a sudden, he’s frozen in place, brain running haywire.

“I like you.”

You’re making fun of him. You have to be. And why should he even care whether you actually like him or not? He doesn’t give a shit about you. He can’t stand you. You’re the bane of his goddamn existence.

…fuck.

That’s what he keeps telling himself, but given how red his face is, it’s sounding harder and harder to believe.

“I’ll make something else next time,” you beam. “I’m sure one day, I’ll figure out something you like. I’ve noticed you eat spicy food a lot. Maybe I should try making a curry. Ah, but if it’s good, you have to be honest with me, okay? You’re not allowed to lie.”

Katsuki’s heart does another flip. It’s so stupid. He can’t believe his mind even bothered to read into it, but…

The fact that you know what kind of food he likes means you’ve at least been paying some attention to him, right?

“I’m going to beat you,” Katsuki blurts. His voice wavers slightly, and he grinds his teeth together in embarrassment, but still, he persists. “On the next round of exams… I’m going to place first. Just you watch.”

Normally, Katsuki can’t stand to lose. He can’t stand the feeling of inferiority. The idea that someone else might be better than him.

And yet, despite his frustration, despite how much he claims you drive him up the wall, he actually doesn’t mind the challenge. It’s exciting. It makes him respect you that much more.

“We’ll see about that,” you grin—and he’s convinced you have to be the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

No doubt about it.

Something about you just gets his heart racing.

Check out the author’s library!

Read more on Ada’s Quotev (Kikyo and Starflame), Ao3, and Wattpad (Kikyo and Starflame)!!

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noirscript · 1 year ago

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silent servitude

WARNING/S! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. YANDERE. noncon; breeding; powerplay; biting; slightly descriptive sex scenes; f!reader

Sequel: In The Lion's Keep

One must abide by His Majesty's every rule.

It was a phrase you often hear from other servants in the castle from the moment you joined them as your mother's apprentice. A phrase that helped them survive the dog-eat-dog world inside the palace walls.

“You're not expected to excel in your work, but do not even think about failing the task given to you.” Your mother grabbed your shoulders with a squeeze. “Do you understand, my child?”

You nodded your head as you tightened your grip on your skirt. “Yes, mother.”

She lightly tap your cheek before placing a lasting kiss on your forehead. “Go on, dear. I will see you before sunset.”

You looked around your surroundings before hesitantly nodding. For some reason, you can't seem to ignore what you've been feeling from the moment you entered the servant's gate. As if someone's watching your every move.

The path inside the dark tunnel was short, but for you, the time seemed to slow down. Your feet felt heavy to take one step forward after another. Like it was keeping you from going any further.

“You've arrived,” a middle-aged woman spoke while standing in the midst of the desolate area, few steps from where you came from. “Follow me.”

You scanned your surroundings, a poor attempt in remembering the path where you came from. However, the more you walk further and further away from the path that leads to your mother, the more you could sense something ominous was about to occur.

“Are you listening?”

You bowed your head and apologized.

“Stand tall and look at me,” she ordered. “In this castle, you must keep your eyes and ears open at all times. Do not even try to let your mind wander elsewhere. If you don’t want to suffer any consequences.”

Your body shook. You tried to speak, but your voice broke. However, when you nodded your head in desperation, the woman simply turn around and started to list down the rules within that castle.

“Do you even know why you're here?”

“T-To train to become my m-mother's replacement...”

The woman sneered. “If that'll help you sleep at night.”

After giving you a tour around an area that only a handful of servants can access, she led you towards a gated path that lead towards a small chateau in the middle of a small open field inside the castle walls.

The chateau, albeit small compared to the colossal main palace, was still bigger than your home. You also noticed the crawling vines on its walls, and as well as its tinted windows that kept its interior hidden from prying eyes.

“You will keep this place in order. You may not ask for anyone's help. You will only work here alone. Your food will be provided by one of the servants, but do not let anyone else inside the chateau.”

“But my lady...”

“That is all you need to know.” She looked down at your stature before clicking her tongue. “Stupid commoners.”

With that, she left you on your own.

THINKING BACK, you should've realized the message behind her poisonous words. Nobody would think that it is normal for a servant to clean an entire chateau within the day all by themselves.

That doing such chore might result to an inevitable mishaps that forces one to change their attire. Something that might force them to take every piece of clothing from themselves.

“Y-Your Majesty, please forgive this commoner from—” you felt one of his large, calloused hand caressing your face while the other hand pulled you closer to his bare body.

“Kept that mouth shut before I do it myself,” he whispered against your cheek before slightly biting it. “Who would've thought that this would be an easy chase?”

Callix, the reigning monarch, is known for his compassion towards the commoners. Some people would even see him interact with the lowest of the poor during their darkest moment, providing them hope and warmth.

But as you writhe beneath him, allowing him to touch every inch of your body as he please, made you doubt everything you heard about him.

After savoring your heat, he aligned his thick member against your quim. Callix grabbed you by your cheeks and forced you to meet his gaze.

“Please...” you pleaded, but he only swallowed all your pleas and cries as he penetrated your tight walls.

When your first intercourse with him ended almost immediately, you believed that he would let you go. That he would order you leave and never show yourself in front of him.

But after resting his head against the crook of your neck, he suddenly grabbed your ankles and pushing it apart.

You could feel his cum gush out of your quim, but Callix was far from satisfied.

That night alone, he ravished your body until the morning sun has risen.

When you woke up, you felt the coldness of the heavy iron wrapped around your ankles.

“You're awake,” you heard his voice from somewhere in the room. “I have some news for you. So, open your eyes.”

You tried to open your eyes, but for some reason, your eyelids felt heavy.

“Are you disobeying my orders?” he asked while gritting his teeth.

“Open your eyes!” he demanded as he grab your cheeks tightly.

You tried your best to open at least one of your eyes and look at him.

“There's my queen's beautiful eyes.” You could feel his hands all over your body as he leave kissing against your face. “Can you hear me, my queen?”

“M’not... queen...”

He chuckled before yanking your hair back, exposing your neck to him.

“You dare oppose me, hm?” he asked as he harshly nip your neck. “Are you forgetting who I am, my queen?”

How you wish you could simply forget who he is.

Quick note: This might be the start of some series. Let me know your thoughts :)

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere fic #yandere blog #yancore #yandere king #yandere royalty #dead dove do not eat #tw.noncon #tw.dark content #tw.breeding #tw.yandere #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #smut #yandere male

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areyouwell · 7 months ago

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Logan x angel!reader where the reader had to get medical treatment after a mission because her angel wings (that are apart of her mutation) were burned and partially damaged after battle, and Logan comes in to check up on her?

Tattered

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Word count: 10K

A/N: first request! so i definitely took some creative license with this... i sort of just kept adding scenes and ideas but this concept was so fierce boots i couldn't help myself. hope this is what you have in mind <3 i have also elected, from now onwards, not to use warnings on my fics unless there's explicit content in which case it will simply just have MDNI in red.

I don't have a taglist for like, oneshots or requests rn so lmk if anyone would like to be added :)

“Watch your six, Icarus!” Scott’s voice crackled from your earpiece as you swooped over the battlefield, the feathers in your wings fluttering in the wind. Glancing behind back, you realised why Scott had alerted you, three drones tailed you with six red dots seeking out your presence. Fuck, this wasn’t good. Why did nothing ever go right? Why were there always fucking complications?

You tucked your wings in tight against your back as you joined the rest of the team inside the Blackbird. You’d always been conscious of how much room you often took up, and whilst your mutation was your pride and joy, it was a common occurrence to feel a little self conscious when trying to cram multiple people into a tight space. You never occupied any of the seats in the cockpit, your wings wouldn’t allow it, and it was never comfortable for you anyway, the way they would shift and bend at unnatural angles meant you’d constantly be shuffling around to stop the awkward ache in your shoulder blades.

Icarus. That was your name. Well, not your name, but that’s what they called you on account of your gleaming golden feathers. You thought it was a little mean, to be honest. You had no intention of flying too close to the sun anytime soon, but alas, you were stuck with it, and over time, you’d come to appreciate it. They weren’t far off anyway. You did have grand ideals, and dreams to become something more than just a freedom fighter. You wanted to change the world and make it a safer place where humans and mutants could live in harmony. You knew a lot of the hard graft was political, and Hank was doing wonders for mutant reputation, but you still would like to contribute something other than stopping mutant slave trades and taking down illegal, anti-mutant organisations.

That was the mission today. Some hate-crazed fuck had been building some kind of drone that could target the mutant gene. Kind of like the sentinels from years ago, but they’d been discontinued.

Thank fuck.

The muscles in your shoulders tensed slightly as Ororo and Logan finally joined the rest of you, deep in conversation about the inevitable upcoming battle. You tucked yourself further into the wall, cursing lowly as you hit your head against the steel.

Your relationship with Logan was… complicated, to say the least. The two of you instantly clicked when you met, finding yourself at ease with his gruff, surprisingly playful demeanour. You guessed he must have felt the same, since you noticed he would often seek you out during breaktimes, or take the seat next to you during meetings, sending you looks whenever Scott said something particularly leader-ish. You’d have to bite back a smile and attempt to keep your serious composure, lest anyone would think you weren’t taking the meeting seriously.

And then there was the night things shifted between you. It was late, possibly early hours of the morning. Your muscles ached from being unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in, the beds not exactly being tailored to suit those with extra limbs, and with a huff of irritation, you’d given up to head downstairs and fix yourself an Irish coffee. And whilst there was a serious lack of Irish whiskey in the school, you knew Logan had a bottle of bourbon hiding somewhere in the cupboards, out of reach for most of the younger kids.

You’d managed to clamber up onto the counter, perched precariously on the edge as you rifled around the top shelf, pulling down various unused cooking equipment before you finally came across the liquid gold. With a triumphant smile, you reached in further to wrap your fingers around the neck of the bottle, delicately pulling it from the depths of the cupboard. Only, it was stuck.

The screw top kept scraping against the top of the cupboard, and you grit your teeth as your fruitless yanking sent pots and pans clattering against each other. You seriously didn’t want to wake anyone only to have them come down and find you up on your knees, balancing on the thin space of the counter, elbow deep in the top cupboard and frantically pulling at a bottle of whiskey. Fuck knows what kind of an impression that would give, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the correct one.

Flaring your wings for balance, you completely misjudged the tips of your wingspan, knocking over an empty can of baked beans and sending it rolling onto the floor with a loud, deafening clang. You froze, attempting to quiet your breathing whilst you waited for the telltale sound of footsteps or the annoyed slam of a bedroom door. But your intense listening found nothing, the halls of the school blissfully quiet as you loosened your held breath.

Nothing. Everyone was still asleep.

You turned your attention back to the stubborn bottle, this time trying to gently manoeuvre it around the baking bowls and saucepans, teasing it from the small little hiding place like you would a scared child.

“Come… on.” You hissed with effort, finally freeing your vice from its trap with a final, harsh tug. Only, it was a little harsher than you’d have liked it to be. You grabbed the handle of the cupboard to your left to hold your balance, only for the door to swing open and provide absolutely no stability whatsoever.

You felt yourself fall backwards with a frantic, whispered curse, swinging with the cupboard door, and resigned yourself to the sore back you’d get from falling to the floor. Or, at least, you would have fallen to the floor, if it hadn’t been for the sudden appearance of a warm palm at the centre of your spine.

“Rough–”

You yelped at the unexpected voice behind you, you entire body jumping as if you were shocked by a socket.

“Stop screaming, it’s me,” Logan soothed with no small degree of subdued amusement. “Rough night?”

It wasn’t like he was asleep, more like dozing when he heard the soft padding of footsteps pass his door and head down the stairs. Knowing it was you, he assumed you’d just woken up thirsty and were heading down for a glass of water. His assumption proved incorrect when the clattering of pans and the clang of something hitting the floor broke the steady silence, and curiosity won over when he decided to investigate just exactly what it was you were doing.

What he wasn’t expecting was to find you clinging onto the cupboards for dear life, his bottle of whiskey clutched in one stubborn hand and your other gripping the open door of the shelf next to you. And it was pure instinct to lunge forward and steady you before you fell to the floor, though in the following moments, he convinced himself it was purely because he didn’t want you to wake up anyone else.

“What?” You asked in bewilderment, turning your head to see his brow raise at the bottle you had in your white knuckle grip. How the hell hadn’t you heard him? You’d stayed silent for at least five minutes before resuming your attempts to pull the bottle out. How the hell had he managed to still creep up on you?

“It’s two in the mornin’ and you’re makin’ a grab for whiskey. So, rough night?” He asked again, moving his hands from your back to your waist, steadying you as you clambered down from the countertop, and he did his best to ignore the feeling of your warm skin seeping through the thin nightshirt you were wearing. At least you were wearing shorts. Though, he counted that as both a blessing and a curse.

He liked you. Despite trying to gaslight himself otherwise, there were times when he truly couldn’t deny it. And this time was one of them. You looked a little dishevelled, hair slightly frizzy and out of place from tossing and turning, and it was one of the rare times he’d seen you without any makeup on. You never wore a lot, just enough to accent your already glowing features and cover any blemishes he thought you had no reason to feel self-conscious about.

You were so perfectly yourself, it was tricky for him not to fall in love with you.

Not that he had, of course. This was just a surface-level crush…

Yeah. Totally.

“You uh, yeah, you could say that. One of those nights, ya know?” You offered a small, slightly dejected smile, and his heart bled slightly. He knew. More than he could say, he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You plannin’ on drinking yourself to sleep?” He asked with wry suspicion as you leaned against the counter, placing his bottle next to the kettle you still needed to flip on.

“The opposite, actually. Wanted to fix myself an Irish coffee. Seeing as I’m not sleeping tonight, might as well stay up.” You shrugged, finding the willpower to turn away from him and grab the ground coffee from the lower cupboard. Thankfully, it didn’t put up the same kind of fight as the bottle.

It was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the electricity humming from where his hands were still against your waist, though his grip was lighter than when he’d helped you down. It truly wasn’t decent to detail the things you were thinking at that moment, and you had to force yourself to think of unsexy things.

“We have a mission in two days and you’re pullin’ an all-nighter?” He asked, his brows pinching in badly concealed concern. Your heavy sigh did nothing to quench his worry.

“What’m I supposed to do? You try sleeping in a bed that’s too small with wings that stretch to either side of the room,” You huffed, flicking down the switch on the kettle and spooning a good two heaps of coffee grounds into the cafetiere. “Doesn’t matter what position. On my back or my side, shit’s so fucking uncomfortable it almost hurts.”

“Why not sleep on your front?”

You snapped back to look at him, eyes hardening to steel. “No. Never sleep on my front.”

You’d said it with so much force he almost reeled back. There was a story there, there had to be, for you to clap back at him with such a bite there was no way it was just a personal preference. You hadn’t really told anyone about your life before the school, but from the bare snippets he’d heard from Charles, it wasn’t exactly how anyone would describe as happy. And there was fear behind that steel. Vulnerability.

Logan sighed, leaning across you to flip the switch back up, stopping the kettle from boiling. You gaped indignantly, and before you could ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing, he spoke before you.

“Sleep with me.”

You choked, eyes blowing wide with shock. “I… what?”

Logan rolled his eyes, unable to tame the crooked curl of his lips at your complete one-eighty from irritation to stupefaction, even the feathers of your wings had puffed out slightly. “Not like that, freak,” although I wouldn’t be opposed. “Just… for company. Might help, s’all.” He offered quietly, and a blanket of realisation settled in your chest. He was awake too. It had only just occurred to you. He hadn’t been sleeping. He didn’t even look like he’d been sleeping. And it made more sense in your head for him to offer if it was something that could benefit both of you.

It seemed highly unlikely he was offering just for you. Right?

“You sure? Don’t wanna like, intrude on your space or anything…”

“Not intrudin’ if I offer,” he reasoned, and you guessed you couldn’t argue with that. With a heavy sigh, you looked back to the bottle of whiskey you’d fought wars to obtain, realising now that the whole cupboard situation had been for nothing.

“All that effort,” you pouted comically, and Logan huffed a smile.

“I’ll put it somewhere easier next time. C’mon.” He nudged you before grabbing the bottle and returning it to the top shelf. You cursed his stupid height and the fact that he wasn’t down earlier. He could have retrieved it for you with so much less effort. But at the same time… if he had…

You wouldn’t be where you are now.

You followed him back up the stairs, taking a left to the door only a few down from your own. You didn’t quite know how sleeping in the presence of someone else would help, but you were not about to say no to sleeping by his side. It wasn’t like this was something you’d thought about. At great length. And in great detail.

And this certainly wasn’t a scenario he’d entertained far too many times to count.

Though upon seeing the double bed, that same self-conscious feeling reared its ugly head. There was no way you weren’t going to disturb him. You could barely find comfort in your own bed of the same size, let alone trying to sleep with someone else taking up space. You hesitated in the doorway, and Logan turned back to you, his head quirking to the side.

“You ‘kay?”

“Yeah… s’just– are you sure I’m not gonna disturb you? Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I take up a bit more room than other people…” you extended your wings in emphasis, barely able to stretch them to half their wingspan before the side of the closet and the wall stopped you. Logan breathed a soft smile, and you felt yourself shrink slightly.

“I’ll be fine, just get in.”

You huffed in resignation, tucking the feathers close into your back and crossing to the other side of the bed, unable to stop thinking about how ridiculous this was. You really should just get the fuck over yourself and go back to your room. How tricky was sleeping on your front anyway? Maybe this time you wouldn’t wake up with a panic attack and you were just being dramatic this whole time. You were fine. It really wasn’t that deep. You didn’t want to disturb him just because you couldn’t get over some stupid fucking fear. This was–

“Christ, I’m not even a telepath and I can hear ya thinkin’. It’s fine, sweetheart. You’re fine.” He implored, throwing back the covers for you to take up the space next to him, but you continued to hesitate. “You want a written invitation or somethin’? Get your ass in bed.”

“Alright, jeez…” you pursed your lips to stop yourself from smiling at his smartass comment, keeping your wings firmly against your back as you shuffled beneath the covers by his side, careful not to take up too much room. Your shoulder started to cramp up slightly, but there was no way you were about to release the tension in your muscles until you were sure he was asleep.

Pulling the covers up to your neck as best you could, you scooted down until your head hit the pillow, shifting in yet another attempt to ease the ache in your back. You hadn’t noticed he’d turned on his side to face you until you looked back ahead and were suddenly met with his flat look of exasperation.

“Seriously?”

“What?” Your voice raised into a pitch of innocence, and Logan barely managed to suppress his eye roll of sarcasm.

“The point was for you to be comfortable.”

“I am comfortable!”

“As comfortable as someone would be whilst constantly tensing, yeah?”

“Logan, if I don’t, you’ll wake up with feathers in your nose.”

He snorted a laugh, and you giggled slightly along with him. “You look ridiculous.”

You gaped in mock offence. “Hey!”

“Come ‘ere…” in one swift movement, you were dragged from your position on your side, and he turned the both of you until you were settled on his chest. Panic swirled in your mind as your back was exposed to the room, until a steady hand soothed your racing pulse against your spine, in the space between your wings. You felt comfort dampen your anxiety, breathing deeply into the dip between his collarbone and neck, exhaling a shaky breath. You let the seconds tick by, expecting yourself to start gasping rapidly at any moment. But the longer your heart stayed settled, the more you realised this might actually work. “Y’okay?” He asked quietly, and you nodded against his chest.

“Yeah… just surprised. Usually, I’d be thinking I’m about to die by this point,” you half-joked, and though you couldn’t see him, Logan’s brows pinched in empathy. What the hell had happened to you before joining the team? Finding the school? His fingers slowly grazed through the short, fluffy feathers at the base of your wings, carding through the stiff joints. He watched in mild amusement as you shivered slightly, those feathers puffing out and shuddering at his touch. He lightly dug his fingers into the hard muscles around the joint, and you had to clamp your mouth shut to stop yourself from sighing in release. You hadn’t realised just how much strain it was to constantly keep them tight against your back, and whilst it had proven useful to build up the muscle, it had also resulted in some nasty knots.

Achingly slowly, your wings started to relax, heavy, hollow bones coming to rest across his body, wingtips grazing the floors on either side of the bed as you blanketed the both of you in a soft, warm embrace. Your eyes started to grow tired, lids drooping with each gentle caress of his fingers across your back.

“Sleep, angel. ‘M here. You’re safe.” He whispered, and you didn’t have the energy to contemplate the fact he’d just used two new pet names for you. If you weren’t so damn tired, your insides would have exploded with butterflies by now, but the siren call of sleep lulled you into a sense of security, and with his steady heartbeat your lullaby, you gave in to the soft pull of rest.

That was the night things changed between you. The day after he would barely leave your side, sticking by you throughout the morning, taking the seat next to you in the pre-mission meeting that same evening, sending you quick glances that he’d cut short whenever your eyes met. And it was the same when he entered the Blackbird, with you tucked tight against the wall. His eyes found you instantly, lips carving into a gentle smile, his hand falling to your shoulder as he walked past you. You savoured the touch, missing the contact when his hand fell back to his side, still deep in conversation with Ororo.

“Do you want to fly above us, Icarus? Might be more comfortable,” Scott asked from where he’d taken his seat at the front of the jet, his head turning back to look at you through his glasses. You knew what he meant. There was only so much room in the Blackbird, and despite your best efforts, you were taking up a considerable amount. You took a moment to think, weighing up your options. And whilst you loved the freedom of flying, you couldn’t help but think it was a backhanded way of asking you to stop taking up so much room. He may not have meant it that way, but that’s just how it felt.

“Uh, sure. Yeah, might be better…” You mumbled with a shrug, trying in vain to stop the hot shame from flushing your cheeks.

Logan’s jaw tensed, his teeth grinding together, the sound resonating through his skull. He’d been trying so damn hard to get you to loosen up about your wings. And whilst he found it difficult to properly articulate just how gorgeous he thought they were, he thought he was finally making some progress after the last two days. So the way Scott insensitively asked you to fly instead of taking the jet wound him up.

“Only if it would be better for you. Don’t do it just cuz ya think it’ll be more comfortable for everyone else,” he ground out with a pointed look to Scott, whose brows furrowed in brief confusion before his mouth fell open in horror.

“Shit, no that’s not what I meant! I just thought–”

“It’s fine, Scott,” you tried placating the panicking Cyclops. “I need to stretch them out before the mission anyway.” You smiled a liar's smile, hoping he wouldn’t see through the façade and into your genuine hurt before turning on your heel to head back down the ramp. You managed to make it roughly halfway before a hand caught your arm, stopping you short.

“You’re not doin’ this cuz of these, right?” Logan asked, gesturing to your wings with his head, his eyes searching your expression as if he was looking to peer right through you. You offered him the same smile you gave Scott, and whilst it worked to settle Cyclops, it only served to broaden Logan’s concern.

“Nah, I really do need to stretch them out, feeling kinda stiff today so it’s not a problem.” You said brazenly, shrugging off his concerns with faux confidence. You knew it didn’t work when his expression didn’t shift, his hand tightening slightly around your arm. You sighed, defeated. “It’s fine, Logan. Everyone’ll be more comfortable like this anyway, myself included. I won’t feel like I’m–”

“If you finish that sentence with ‘in the way’ I’ll throw you off the jet myself.” He borderline growled, and you tensed your jaw in slight irritation. Couldn’t he just let you have this? Couldn’t he just let you do this one thing to make everyone’s lives more comfortable? Why did he have to be so damn stubborn?

“Just… drop it, yeah? I’ll see you guys when we get there.” You bit, almost snatching your arm from his grip and continuing down the ramp, crouching low when you reached the bottom and launching into the skies, your wings beating hard as cold wind whipped your face. All Logan could do was watch you go, regret piercing his chest as the sound of your wings receded into the night sky.

And that was how you found yourself already airborne when Scott’s voice crackled through your earpiece, the low hum of those three drones on your tail like the toll of death, the rapid beeping of target systems an accompaniment to the symphony. Tucking one of your wings in tight, you fell into a sharp stoop, panic rising in your chest as they followed you down. The hissing release of metal combined with the sudden roar of a rocket told you at least one of them had fired on you. You flared your wings, catching the air like a feathered parachute as you levelled out quickly, the missile shooting past you and into the ground below. The heat from the explosion fanned your face as you whipped around the wreckage of a building, those three drones still hot on your trail.

Logan looked up as you soared above, his claws drenched in blood as he yanked them out the helmet of some unfortunate soldier who’d made the mistake of thinking he could take on The Wolverine. His heart raced in his throat as those six dots wouldn’t stray from your body, drones expertly following your manoeuvres, mimicking every duck and dive, narrowly missing the corners of buildings and rising flames. Ororo’s voice crackled in his own earpiece, her tone frantic.

“Icarus you gotta shake them!”

“NO SHIT!”

He almost winced at the panic in your voice, snapping back at Storm in a way he’d never heard you do before. Casting a quick glance to his surroundings, he saw Scott with his fingers braced on his glasses, beams of white-hot energy streaking the battlefield as he picked off one guard after another.

“Scott!” He called, his legs pounding the ground as he ran over, slicing through the gut of a nameless, faceless soldier who stood in his way before he jogged to a stop. “Think you can get a clear shot?” He asked, his words rushed as his gaze returned to the skies, another explosion booming bright before you raced around the corner of the main building.

“They’re moving too fast and it’s too much of a risk.” Scott called back over the din of battle, the crackle and boom of thunder overhead striking the earth with expert precision as Storm unleashed yet another bolt from the clouds above. A little too close to you for comfort.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as you levelled out, those tenacious six red dots still focused solely on your racing form, your wings beating and dipping with every expert manoeuvre as you once again swooped from sight. But it still wasn’t enough.

“Lead the shot.”

“What?”

“Lead the damn shot, Scott. She’ll be comin’ back round, it’s a pattern. Just do it.” He almost pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. He knew you only had precious seconds before those missiles would fire again, and you couldn’t outrun them forever.

You crested back around the ruins of the facility, and it was only due to his enhanced sight could he see your confidence wavering, your jaw tense with concentration, though your eyes were blown wide with panic.

The beep of the target systems increased rapidly, before blending into one long note. And it was like time came to a slow crawl. A puff of silver gas erupted from the base of the drone, a pinpoint missile dropping from the small hold to hone in on your location before Scott had a chance to take it out.

Switching targets, Scott moved his head to the side slightly, leading the shot as Logan had said, the beam of pure, red and white hot energy shot from his glasses, quick as a blink. And for one, blissfully ignorant moment, Logan thought they’d succeeded.

But the missile was too close. The moment the pure energy collided with the steel casing, a ball of furnace orange flame and thick black smoke lit the sky. Before you had time to think, searing agony jolted your back, hellfire burning your shoulders and wings as you were thrust forward, losing control of your trajectory. Panic gripped your heart as you tried in vain to regain your altitude, but your wings weren’t responding. The stench of burning feathers and flesh singed your nose as you went down, caught up in the explosion between Scott’s beam and the missile.

Wind roared in your ears, whipping your hair as you descended, flailing and spiralling, to the ground, trees and ruin rising to bring your fall, and your life, to a sharp end.

“STORM!”

“ICARUS!”

Two indistinguishable voices exploded in your ears, deafening you over the din of death. You knew this was most likely it. This was most likely the end, but you felt numb peace as the wind kept you company, wrapping around you almost like a blanket as you braced your arms against your chest, pain splitting your body and mind as the open rooftop of a ruined house ripped through your suit and flesh as you struck the ground, knowing nothing more than darkness.

“No…” Logan whispered, his entire world coming to an abrupt halt as you descended past his line of vision, a cloud of black dust rolling from the wreckage of a home. You weren’t dead. You couldn’t be dead. He was moving before he’d even registered it, racing across blackened bodies and charred remains of structures. His throat tore with repeated cries of your name, pushing past collapsed beams and splinters of wood, shoving aside wrecked furniture and broken decor before he saw you.

Lifeless.

In a pool of your own blood.

Your leg lay in an unnatural angle, your wings charred and broken, your wrist twisted in a way he knew it really shouldn’t be. His blood turned to ice in his veins, face blanching as he couldn’t see the rise and fall of your chest beneath the shrapnel and dust covering you. A jagged wooden spike protruded from the dip between your shoulder and your chest, the entry wound somewhere on your back.

He had to check if you were still alive, but he couldn't move, finding himself frozen in place. He couldn't lose you. Not when he was finally putting the foundations down for your relationship. He couldn't lose you now…

But seeing your body broken like this… there was no way you could have survived that fall, even with Ororo’s help. She tried to slow your descent too late, a gust of wind appearing from nowhere to catch you just a second after she should have. Maybe you’d still be alive if she'd succeeded. Maybe you’d still be here if he hadn't asked Scott to shoot those fucking drones.

Maybe…

“Fuck! Icarus! Icarus can you hear me?” Storm rushed past him, followed by a horrified Cyclops, and if Logan could focus on anything other than your twisted limbs, he'd see the overwhelming sense of guilt on his face.

Ororo pushes off the splinters of wood and debris from your body, her movements hurried yet careful, terrified of moving you too much. She placed two trembling fingers against the side of your neck and waited.

And waited.

And waited…

Logan thought the moment would never end, silence blanketing the ruined room as the three of them could do nothing but watch, Jean quietly placing a hand on Scott's shoulder.

“There's a pulse!” Storm cried, a sob of relief erupting from her throat as Jean rushed forward, her hands ghosting the top of your body.

You were alive. Alive. How the fuck had you survived that? There was no way you could have survived that. You fell from over two hundred feet, how the fuck–

“We need to stabilise her. She's lost a lot of blood and it hasn't stopped. Can you tell what the damage is?” Storm turned to Jean, hoping her telekinesis could find something, anything that would provide more information.

“Broken ribs, her lung is punctured, I think she's bleeding internally and we can’t remove this or she’ll bleed out… I can't do shit out here, we need to get her back to the school. Now.” Jean's voice took on a tone of authority, spurring Scott back into action, but Logan was still paralysed. It was only two nights ago you were sound asleep on his chest, only yesterday he couldn’t stand being further than two feet from you.

Logan…

You were alive, but how long for? Was he just given false hope, only to lose you on the way? On the operating table? How much longer did you have? How much longer did he have?

“Logan…”

He wanted to blame Scott. Fuck, he wished he could blame Scott. But the truth was, he asked him to take them out. He was the one who asked if he had a shot. He was the one who coerced him to take it. Would you have been okay? Would you have been able to shake them on your own? Had he single-handedly brought on your fall?

“LOGAN!”

Logan blinked rapidly, eyes burning from how long he was staring, unblinkingly, at your broken body. Numbly, he tore his gaze from you and over to Ororo, and though her brows were pinched in concern, her eyes were hard with determination.

“I know, but if we wait any longer, we’ll lose her. Think you can clear Jean a path?” She glanced pointedly to the rubble somewhat blocking the doorway, and it took him another second before forcing his body to move, nodding wordlessly to Ororo’s orders. He wasn’t usually one to just mindlessly obey, but he wasn’t able to think straight at the moment and was honestly thankful for the others taking charge.

He was strong at the best of times, but self-hatred fuelled his arms to work overtime, shoving away impossibly large beams and collapsed part of the wall before there was a clear path for Jean to levitate you through. Your smouldering wings dragged along the ground, tattered and torn, gathering dust and grime along the bloodied tips. Only now had could he get a glimpse of your back, the worst of the damage caking your shoulders and wing joints in blackened crimson. Feathers had burned away, leaving your mutation raw and weeping. You didn’t know what he was talking to Ororo about on the walk to the jet. You didn’t know he was asking her if you had a favourite food, or colour, or flower. You had no idea he’d planned to officially ask you out after the mission.

Now you might never know.

Scott slowly approached him, looking as if he were in a state of complete shock, replaying what went wrong over and over again in his head. All it took was one glance, and Logan didn’t even need to see his eyes to know they were buried in remorse. He wanted to be furious at him, but he couldn’t. He wanted to be beside himself with desperate anger, but there was nothing to be angry at him for. This wasn’t Scott’s fault…

It was his.

The ride back to the mansion took days and also five seconds, Jean doing her best to keep you stable whilst Ororo took the pilot’s seat, Scott being in no shape to fly anything. Logan found himself too terrified to touch you as if the slightest movement could worsen your condition. In the silence of the ship, he could hear your haunting, rasped breaths, slow and shallow. The stench of charred flesh and boiled blood made his stomach clench, but not as much as the wounds across your body. He forced himself to look at them. To look at what he’d done to you because of his choices. Forced himself to sear every weeping burn, every broken bone, every blood-soaked bandage into his memory. Your wings, which once held so much majesty and beauty, now lay in tatters, and he had no idea if they would grow back. Would you ever be able to fly again? Logan didn’t know if he’d be able to look himself in the mirror if he’d taken that from you too.

“She’s going to be okay, Logan. She’s stabilised for now and the Professor already knows the situation. Hank’s on standby and Charles has called in a favour from a surgeon. She’ll be in the best hands possible when we get there.” Jean attempted to comfort him, all the while focussed on keeping you stable from any turbulence and making sure your wounds didn’t worsen.

“I did this…” he whispered, uttering the first words since watching you fall. Speaking his thoughts into the thick silence, the rest of the team cast glances at each other, Scott running a hand through his hair.

“No… I should have trusted your judgment. I hesitated. Fired too late. You can’t blame yourself for this…” He hissed, dragging the hand from his hair down the side of his face.

“You both did what you could,” Ororo offered from the cockpit, her eyes still focused on the clouds ahead. “If you hadn’t done anything, she’d be dead by now. Those drones weren’t going to give up and she couldn’t shake them. She’s still here because of what happened, not despite it.”

Logan couldn’t find the self-compassion to believe her. His eyes still trained on the scattering of feathers beneath where Jean suspended you from the ground. He wearily raised his head when the redhead called his name, her features soft with understanding.

“Come here,” she gesture him over with a nod of her head, her hands still hovering over your body. Logan hesitated before rising from his seat, to stand by your side, across from Jean. “Place two fingers against the side of her neck,” she instructed, and his breath hitched, eyes darting from your unconscious face to Jean. “You won’t hurt her, just do it.”

Inhaling sharply, Logan softly brushed your hair back from your neck, gently placing two fingers against your pulse point. There he felt the slight, slow thump of your heart still beating. The realisation was enough to bring him to his knees, not caring about the sharp bark of pain as he struck the steel floor. He knew you were alive. Ororo had said as much, but to actually feel you, to feel the evidence of you’re still beating heart, broke through the dam of self-hatred.

His hand cautiously skirted up your jaw to rest against the side of your cheek as he pressed his forehead into your hair, his breath shuddering with the effort to keep himself from falling apart. He didn’t care that he could taste blood and dirt when he softly kissed the side of your head. Didn’t care that now everyone knew how he felt about you. His thumb lightly caressed your cheekbone, smoothing the grimy skin beneath your eye.

You hadn’t left him yet. You were still here.

“She’s alive, Logan. And we’re gonna keep her that way,” the conviction in Jean’s eyes was almost enough to settle his heart, but he knew the twisting worry wouldn’t loosen until he saw you open your eyes, your wounds healing, your wings bright again.

Everything ached. Everything. You felt as if you’d been hit by a bus, only for the bus to reverse back over your body, and hit you again. Your wrist barked with sharp pain when you tried to shift, your eyes still closed against the bright lights behind your lids. Something tight was almost cutting off the circulation to your left leg, and inhaling too deeply caused your chest to convulse in agony. The steady beep of a heart rate monitor helped you count roughly how many seconds you’d been conscious. You tried to think back to what could have happened, only to find the last thing you remembered was stooping in a low dive with three drones tailing you. There was an explosion at your back and–

You were falling.

You’d fallen.

So much for not living up to your name…

With a hissing wince, you cracked your eyes open, only to instantly screw them shut at the sharp burn of bright lights unfamiliar to your retinas. How long have you been out? How did the mission go? Was everybody okay? Was Logan okay?

With renewed determination, you attempted to open your eyes again, gritting your teeth as you blinked through the burn of adjustment. You knew this ceiling. You knew this table. From your first ever visit to the school, you’d been taken care of in this very room. You groaned slightly, exhaustion already taking its

toll on your weary bones. Any attempt to move yourself resulted in agony spiking up your spine, white-hot pain cresting through your shoulder blades. Panic gripped your heart as you attempted to move your wings, only to find resistance. Turning your head with a sharp gasp, your eyes welled up with new tears seeing your torn, tattered feathers bound in bandages, held suspended by a sling from the ceiling. They were still attached, so there was that, you supposed, but it had been a long, long time since you’d seen them in this condition.

You glanced down the bed to find your leg wrapped in a cast, held aloft from the mattress. Your wrist too seemed to be encased in white. You turned your neck to the other side with the intention of gauging the damage to your other wing, before your eyes widened at who you saw, head bowed asleep, in the chair next to your bed.

Despite yourself and your situation, you couldn’t stop your lips from pulling into a fond, soft smile as Logan snored lightly. He looked truly exhausted, his hair mussed from how many times he’d run his hands through it. You didn’t think it was possible to adore him any more than you already did, but here you were, finding your heart growing three sizes at the sight.

The doors opposite you slid open, Jean striding through with a clipboard and a thin pair of glasses perched on her nose. She stopped dead when she looked up from her notes, almost dropping her pen to the floor when she registered the fact you were awake. Silently, you placed a finger to your lips, before pointing over to the exhausted Logan in the chair. She smiled with a fond nod,

Keeping her footsteps light, she crossed the medical bay to take a look at the readings on the screen, before crouching down next to your bed, her eyes focusing on the bandages across the bend of your wing.

“He hasn’t slept since we got back. Storm had to force him to eat something yesterday. And he hasn’t stepped foot outside this room.” Jean explained, keeping her voice to a low whisper.

“How long’ve I been here…?” you asked, unable to raise your voice louder than a low whisper. Your throat scratched with every word, and you hadn’t realised just how thirsty you were until now.

“A week and three days. I’m going to slowly reintroduce food into your stomach before taking out the IV, okay?”

You barely heard the rest of her sentence. A week and three days? That was a little longer than you were expecting, to be honest.

“Wait… Logan hasn’t slept in over a week?” You managed to rasp a little louder, your chest lurching with concern. That wasn’t healthy for anyone, even someone who could regenerate as fast as he could. No wonder he was utterly spent.

And it was as if your voice were like an alarm clock. One moment your hushed tones were accompanied by the soft snores of the man in the chair, the next his eyes shot open, your whispered name the first words on his lips.

Turning your head back to him, your breath caught in your throat. There was a hurricane of emotions swirling in his hazel eyes. Relief, guilt, fear, joy, remorse. A cocktail of feelings clouded his eyes and you wished you had the energy to cup the side of his face and reassure him you were alright.

Logan’s exhausted haze cleared instantly upon hearing your voice, seeing your eyes open for the first time since he watched you plummet to the ground, and it took a moment for him to realise he wasn’t dreaming. Because he had dreams of this. In the rare moments he physically couldn’t keep his eyes open, his mind would either take him back to your fall or fabricate the moment you woke up. But wherever his dreams took him, he would always wake up with the tight ache of guilt constricting his chest. His waking moments he would spend thinking about what he would say to you if you woke up, planning out a meticulously crafted apology, but everything he wanted to say instantly flew out the window upon actually seeing you awake.

“Hi…” you whispered, voice still raspy from disuse. And it was your weary, worn smile that tore at the chains around his soul. He couldn’t respond, as if he were the one who’d been lying unconscious for the last two weeks.

Jean, sensing the tension in the room, stood from her crouched position by your wing, clearing her throat a little before tucking the clipboard flat against the crook of her elbow.

“I’ll be back in a bit to check up on you and bring you some food.” She murmured, but you barely acknowledged her exit, too fixated on Logan’s expression of disbelief.

The doors closed as Jean took her leave, blanketing the two of you in a charged silence, the both of you waiting for the other to talk first.

“Logan I–”

“I’m so sorry, it–”

So naturally, of course, you both spoke at the same time, before falling into another equally uncomfortable silence, once again stuck in the purgatory of waiting for the other. You held your tongue this time, nodding to him with the smallest movement of your head.

“You’re okay…” he breathed, almost to himself, as if having to remind himself again that this wasn’t in fact a dream. You were awake. You were talking. You weren’t lying lifeless with only the steady beeping of medical equipment to keep him company. Your eyes were open, looking at him with something he was struggling to discern through his addled mind.

“I’m okay,” you responded softly, watching his features morph from self-hatred to pure relief. He shifted in his seat, head hanging low between his shoulders as he took a shaky breath, and you could see the slight shudder of his shoulders.

“I–” he started, before cutting himself off with a sharp inhale, clamping his teeth together as he struggled to raise his head again. “I thought I lost you.”

Whilst it was nothing but the softest admission, you felt spiderwebs crack through your heart, wanting nothing more than to reach for him, if only your bones didn’t feel like lead. He continued to keep his head low, his hands wringing together between his knees. “It was ’my fault. I didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t shake em and they were closin’ in and Scott wasn’t fuckin’ listenin’ an’–”

“Logan,” you interrupted as loud as you could, your throat tearing at the sudden strain on your voice, causing you to wince slightly. Your hiss of discomfort finally prompted him to raise his head, half standing from his seat to instantly be by your side should you need anything. “I’m okay. Or, I will be. My wings’ve seen worse, and my body will heal with time. I’m okay.”

He searched your face for any sign of deception, any indication that you were just saying this to spare his feelings, or stop him from spiralling into the well of self-hatred once again. He knew it wasn’t the time to ask, but his mind subconsciously filed away that nugget of your past for a later conversation, too focused on the fact his search came up short of anything he was looking for.

“You’re okay…” he repeated, settling back into the chair by your bed. His eyes fell to your twitching hand, and with a gentleness only reserved for you, his fingers intertwined with yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “You’re okay.”

Your heart skipped a beat or several, and you were mildly concerned about setting off the heart rate monitor your abdomen was connected to. You don’t think you’d ever had this many wires connected to your body in your life, not even when Charles first found you. Nobody knows what had happened that day apart from him, and you refused to speak of it.

“What do you remember?” Logan asked, pressing the back of your hand against the scruff of his cheek, as if desperate to feel you. Your brows furrowed for a moment, your quick trip down trauma lane before you opened your eyes yielding nothing of much use.

“I remember the drones and the targeting dots. I remember one… fired, I think, and missed,” you struggled, screwing your eyes shut in a vain attempt to jog your own memory. “Uh– then there were two more? One missed and the other exploded before it hit me, but I was caught up in the blast radius. I remember falling and I remember the pain, but that’s about it…” You opened your eyes to find Logan’s expression have shifted once again back to remorse. He really thought it was his fault… didn’t he? “I couldn’t get them off me, Lo’.” You offered quietly.

“I know.”

“I wouldn’t be here if Scott hadn’t fired.”

“I… I know.”

“Logan, you saved my life.”

He placed your hand back on the bed, and you instantly missed the warmth of his palm. “I almost got you killed. I almost lost you. We could have worked somethin’ else out. Storm could’ve–”

“And what if she couldn’t?” You prompted gently, your brows creasing with empathy as you watched him try to wade through the implications of your question.

“That’s not– I almost–”

“Almost, Logan. Almost. But you didn’t. I’m here. So please stop acting like I’m dead because I might start believing you.” You tried to sound as stern as you could whilst being physically and emotionally drained, and whilst it may have sounded a little weak, Logan knew what you were trying to do.

He ran a hand through his messy hair which was in desperate need of a wash. Although so were you, you could only imagine. “I didn’t want our last conversation to be an argument.” He murmured, and you sighed as heavily as you could whilst not being able to inhale very deeply.

“So melodramatic,” you joked with a half-smile, and it took a moment of his eyes scanning your face before his shoulders slumped, huffing a singular laugh through crooked lips.

“Maybe a little…” he looked up at you through lidded eyes. “Fear doesn’t come naturally t’me. But I don’t think I’ve been more scared than when I was watchin’ you fall, knowin’ I could do nothin’.”

You finally mustered the strength to reach for him, and he clasped your outstretched hand between both of his like a prayer. You considered for a moment what you would have done had your roles been swapped. If you were so helpless to save him from almost certain death. If you were forced to watch in nearly slow motion as the object of your heart was being ripped away from you and you were powerless against it. Because this was something more than a crush, more than admiration. You loved him. It wasn’t a sudden lightbulb moment, but rather a slow realisation of admission. You loved him. Irrevocably. Possibly irresponsibly. But certainly undeniably.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m not dead. I’m not going to die. It’s gonna take time, but I’m okay. And I’m going to be okay.” You implored, and you could almost watch the cogs turning in his head, working on believing you and realising the truth of the situation.

You. Were. Alive.

He nodded silently, finally accepting what everyone had been trying to tell him for almost a week and a half now. His thumb grazed the tendons of your wrist, the delicate caress sending shivers down your scarred spine.

“How’re you feeling?” He asked though he couldn’t help thinking it was the most stupid question in the world.

“Like I just fell over two hundred feet after being blown up.” You responded dryly. Ask obvious questions, get obvious answers.

Obviously.

“That checks out.”

“Thank you, Doctor Wolverine.”

How you’d managed to almost die and yet maintain your humour was a mystery to Logan, but it simply added to all the reasons he was completely taken with you. You were easily one of the strongest people he knew, in spite of your own self-consciousness. The way you felt about your wings had already proven that. They were the greatest source of your diffidence, and yet you often said how incomplete you would feel without them. He saw how you battled, every day, between loving and hating them. Not many people did, but he did.

Perhaps that was because, to him, you were the focal point of every conversation. The spotlight in the room. The brightest star in the sky. Not only did he see you, but he saw you.

That was when he remembered your words from earlier. ‘My wings’ve seen worse…’

“What did you mean?”

“When?”

“When you said your wings have been worse. What did you mean?”

Logan knew he’d struck a nerve when your wry humour dissolved from your face, and he watched you withdraw back into your own mind, another silence creating a barrier between you. It was another mental battle. He could see it. And he could only hazard a guess that you were struggling between opening yourself up to whatever traumas you’d experienced in the past, or staying closed and comfortable.

“This world is cruel and cold to people like us…” your voice was barely audible, and despite his enhanced hearing, Logan found himself shifting closer, drawn in by your siren’s whisper. “I was always jealous of people who could hide their mutation. Or mutations that didn’t take on a physical appearance, anyway. Because hiding something like phasing or shapeshifting is easy. Hiding a pair of giant fucking wings? Get’s a little harder when not everyone around you is very accepting…” you were being vague on purpose. Taking yourself back to the day Charles found you was never easy, and it was this exact reason why you kept this to yourself. Only he knew what happened, and Jean was the only other one who’d seen your condition.

Logan fought the urge to run his fingers through your feathers, slightly worried it would hurt you more than it would soothe you, since most of your secondary feathers had been burned away or torn off, and the exposed ligaments had been covered in bandages. You took a breath before you continued. “The neighbourhood where I lived wasn’t exactly high-end, and less than welcoming to mutants. I used to listen to a lot of music when I left my apartment, it helped to drown out the insults and hatred but uh, it also prevented me from hearing anyone following me.

“It was stupid. I was tired and forgot to lock my fucking door before I fell asleep that night. Such an idiot. And I paid the price. I can’t really remember exactly when it happened, and it’s all sort of a blur to be honest. I never saw their faces either, and I only knew they were there when they shoved a gag between my teeth and held me down, jeering about me being a disgusting mutant, the usual bullshit…” you trailed off, your words sticking to your throat like molasses as you recounted possibly the most traumatic moment of your life. Narrowly holding the top spot after recent events. “They uh, tried to sever them. My wings. Used a carving knife or a paring knife, hell it could have been a butter knife for all I knew. But it hurt. And I couldn’t fight them off. I probably still have the scars. They were barely attached by the time they were startled by something and took off.”

Logan placed his hand against your cheek, gently smoothing away the stray tear sliding down the side of your face with the pad of his thumb.

“That’s why you don’t sleep on your front?”

“That’s why I don’t sleep on my front,” You affirmed with a timid nod, and Logan felt his heart clench painfully. He always wondered where your intense passion for making the world a safer place came from. “At least,” you continued quietly. “Until you.”

His eyes widened a fraction, and it wasn’t hard to piece together what you meant. The night, two days before the mission. That was the first time you’d slept on your front since Charles and Jean found you all those years ago. That was why you mentioned it. That was why you were so adamant about it.

Your vulnerability was taken advantage of and used to further the cycle of hatred and violence.

“Sweetheart…”

You couldn’t bear to hear the slight break in his voice, the horrified empathy creasing his brows. “So yeah. That’s what I meant. When I said they’ve been through worse. So actually, this really isn’t all that bad. They’ll recover. They did last time. Might be a while before I can fly again but I think I’m okay with that for a while, not sure I want to–” your rambling was cut short by the sudden decrease of proximity between the two of you. Was he always this close? Or had he shifted? Had you simply not noticed? Too lost in your second trip down trauma lane in the space of twenty minutes? You could feel his steady breaths fanning your cheeks.

“You’re safe. With me. An’ nothin’ like that will ever happen again. ‘M gonna look after you, angel. Promise.” His eyes flickered from your gaze, down to your lips, and back up in a silent request, and your body answered for you. Your eyes fluttered closed, heart igniting at the first graze of his soft lips against yours, the pain in your back forgotten as your skin prickled with shivers.

The moment he felt you lean up into him as much as you could, Logan gasped through his nose, his fingers skirting up the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse before continuing to brace his palm against your jaw. He wanted to feel you, in any way he could and in any way you would let him, your lips dancing with his languidly. And through the salves and disinfectant, through the blood and the grease, the smoke clinging to your hair, he could just smell you. Amber and wood oak swirled through his senses, and he didn’t think it fair that you smelled like a fucking autumnal forest.

You tried to push yourself up further toward him, a fresh wave of yearning hitting you like a fall from over two hundred feet, but your ribs barked in sharp protest, and you flinched back with a harsh hiss, your features scrunching in pain.

“Easy there, angel. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” He breathed, and whilst you could detect genuine concern in his tone, there was also a hint of smug satisfaction.

“Sorry… got kinda carried away.” You clamped your lips together at his soft chuckle, finding immeasurable comfort in the way his thumb smoothed along your under-eye.”

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while…” He murmured against your lips, and you drew back as far as you could without jostling your back too much.

“Really? How long?”

“Round a year or so.”

You blanched. “A year!?”

“Give or take a few months,” he shrugged, unable to tame the delicious grin pulling at his lips.

“And you didn’t think to do anything?” You asked incredulously, eyes flicking between his, unable to decide just where they wanted to settle.

“Inappropriate in the workplace.” He shrugged nonchalantly, and your eyes widened further.

“We live under the same roof! This isn’t just a workplace.”

“Potato pot-ah-to.”

“No! Potato potato. It’s the same thing!”

He raised a sly brow. “Didn’t see ya pull back, angel. How long’ve you wanted this then?”

You clamped your lips shut, your face a picture of false irritation as he turned your own accusations back onto you, a triumphant glint dancing in his eye. “Thought s’much.”

A huff brushed his chin, though you couldn’t tame your guilty smile for long. Yes, he was absolutely right. You’d wanted to do that for far longer than you cared to admit. And the phrase ‘good things come to those who wait’ couldn’t ring more true. Though you couldn’t help thinking they should change the phrase slightly.

‘Good things come to those who nearly die’. Yeah, that sounded more accurate.

Your head lulled against his hand, a tugging wave of exhaustion pulling at your mind, your eyes feeling heavy with sleep. It was strange. Usually, you found it so difficult to find rest, tossing and turning until you simply couldn’t take it anymore. But not in his presence. Not when Logan was with you.

He hummed a soft, fond smile of understanding, pulling the chair closer to the bed so he could still be near you. Pressing his lips to your forehead, you sighed in contentment, your hand holding his arm in a soft grip, silently asking him not to go anywhere. But you didn’t need to. He had no plans on leaving you anytime soon.

“Sleep, angel. ‘M here. You’re safe.”

#wolverine x reader #logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #james logan howlett #logan howlett #x men logan #the wolverine x reader #the wolverine #logan x you #x men wolverine #wolverine x you #x men x reader #essa's works

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lillithsalvatore · 9 months ago

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million dollar man

pairing: royal!jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

summary: the price of loving a million dollar man, a prince

warning: modern royal au!, mention of cheating, angst, minor dni, cursing, asshole jace (?), cried. like and reblog are appreciated!! my 1st imagine, please be nice!!

---

"Did you fuck her, Jace? Answer me!" you demanded your soon-to-be-husband, your voice trembling with anger as you stared at Jace, eyes burning with rage. In your hand was a newspaper from a well-known publication, which you held up in front of him. A news about him with his 'childhood bestfriend'

When Jace finally confessed, nearly shouting, "Once, just once, and I fucking regreted it" your heart tightened. His admission felt like a powerful blow to the trust and pride you had invested in him. Your anger intensified, but beneath it all, a deep sadness began to take hold of your mind.

"Once?" You gave a bitter smile. "Even once is fucking enough to destroy everything we had, Jace."

Jace looked at you with regretful eyes, but that only made you feel more exhausted. "Do you know? I trusted you more than I trusted myself. And you betrayed that trust for a moment of weakness."

"Y/n…" Jace began, trying to approach you, but you raised your hand to stop him.

"Don't!" you choked out, but your voice remained firm. "Don't make this worse Jace”

You took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "I loved you sincerely, but love cannot continue when trust has been shattered."

Finally, you turned away, heading toward the door,

"I hope you never make anyone else feel the way I did."

Jace stood there, frozen, feeling the pain in every word you spoke. He realized that you were not just angry about the betrayal, but also about feeling disregarded, pushed aside in a relationship where you had poured all your heart and soul.

"Y/n, I'm sorry, —" Jace said, his voice trembling, but you couldn't bear to hear any more. Apologies at this point only deepened the pain.

"Don't apologize, Jace," you replied, your voice breaking with sobs. "Sorry doesn't change anything. You chose her over me, It's always been her, Jace."

You could feel Jace's hand still holding yours, but now, that warmth no longer provided the comfort it once did. Instead, it only reminded you of the times he wasn't there for you, when he chose to protect someone else over you.

“Please don’t do this, please let me fix it” He begged

"I tried so hard, Jace. I gave you everything I had, but you chose her, even if you didn't realize it," you said, your voice now filled with nothing but exhaustion and despair.

Jace didn't know what to do, what to say to fix his mistake. He could feel everything between you falling apart, piece by piece, with no way to put it back together.

"Y/n, I—" Jace started, but you interrupted him, pulling your hand out of his grasp.

"I can't stay here anymore, Jace. I can't keep going like this. I guess that's the price of loving a million dollar man."

"And I giving this ring back to you, I hope you'll find someone who deserve it" You turned away, moving towards the door, trying to leave this suffocating space before your heart completely shattered.

Before opening the door, you looked back at Jace one last time, hoping he would understand what you couldn't put into words: that you had loved him deeply, but you couldn't stay with someone who no longer belonged to you.

And then, you walked out of the apartment. As the door closed behind you, you felt a profound sadness but also a sense of relief, as if a great burden had been lifted. The tears had dried up, leaving a void in your heart, but it was a necessary emptiness, allowing you to move forward, to find yourself again and rebuild your life from the ruins.

And though the pain was immense, you knew you had done the right thing. You chose yourself

Jace might realize his mistake, but it was too late. The love and trust you had given him were no longer intact. Now, you had to seek happiness for yourself, a happiness unbound by emotional scars.

And so, you moved on, looking toward the future, knowing you deserved a true love, a love that would never betray you.

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon imagines #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x y/n #jacaerys velaryon modern au #modern!jacaerys velaryon #harry collett #harry collett imagine #harry collet imagines #harry collett x you #harry collett x reader #harry collett x y/n

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kingtomura · 1 year ago

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Good Girl

Summary: It’s not your fault that your boyfriend was hard for people to warm up to. God, your parents are so lame. But so were you. So you did what anyone else with strict parents would, and you cut him off.

Bad idea.

Word count: 4k

part two is here!

Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, explicit content, kinda quiet sex, cunnilingus, praise, slight humiliation, unprotected sex, strict parents, toxic relationship with parents, AU - no quirks, no use of y/n, gets a little mushy at the end im sorry

You would rather be anywhere else but here. You would pay to be anywhere else but right here, right now being scolded like some teenager who had been caught sneaking out after curfew. But you were here and you weren’t going anywhere any time soon.

“He’s just not good for you,” your father’s voice stressed. It dragged on, pulling you from your drifting thoughts. “You have so much ahead of you and we even agreed to this gap year so that you could figure out what you wanted to do, not so you could run around with some delinquent boy with no future–”

“He‘s not a delinquent,” You cut off, “you’re judging him without even giving him a chance.”

Your father sighs, knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, but knowing you inherited his stubbornness has never detoured him from taking your objections head on. He’s been on this earth longer than you, butting heads with others longer than you have. “Well, whatever he is, he’s not allowed to see you again. That’s final.” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. False air of nonchalance sending fury through your veins.

There would be no more arguing and you knew it. You desperately look to your mother, who is in her usual stance of resignation and uselessness when it comes to his word. If she saw things your way, she would never say. And even if she agreed with you, there would be no change. It has always been your father’s way or no way.

“I’m an adult, you can't tell me who I can and can’t see.” you try once more, not ready to end things here. It’s suffocating.

He scoffs, bringing a hand up to count his fingers, “You live under our roof, you eat our food, you drive our car, you give me attitude when I agree to give you time to figure out your life when you decided to leave university after two semesters,” his voice is rising and you begin to feel your eyes burn with the threat of tears, your chest tightening as its harder to catch a breath. You can’t cry here, it would only make things worse. “I don’t think it matters how old you are. I am done with this conversation. End things with him now or you won't have a pot to piss in by the end of the day.”

This cannot be happening. You're still sat on the plush sofa of the living room as your father stalks off with your mother in tow. The latter only glancing back with an empty look of pity as you stare at where your father had just been. Words burned into your mind while hot tears finally break and run down your cheeks. This is really happening.

And Tomura was going to be upset.

In a perfect world you could meet up with him tonight, talk it over, or even run away together and leave all this behind, but you know better. You know the two of you haven’t dated long enough to warrant running away together, but it still crosses your mind. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it's painful to think you never will again. Tomura just made you feel so.. Alive. There was so much to him and his witty dry humor that keeps pulling you in.

He’s cynical, he’s moody and sometimes he’s mean but god he could be so soft. Touch you in ways that felt like he reached your soul. Quiet nights where you would stay at his house and watch him play video games would turn into late night sessions of making love until the twilight of dawn peeked through the dark curtains of his room. There was no way you could let him go. But you had to. You had to. Your father had given you no other choice. So you take the coward’s way out.

You text him.

You send him a short text that would send you to the bathroom dry heaving, but you didn’t know what else to do. What more could you say other than your father had snapped at you and you both could no longer be together. It would hurt so much more facing him head on. You knew that if you had to speak to him face to face that you would crack, probably throw out your silly idea of running away together and then face the awkward rejection. This was all you could manage. You felt awful for it, finally forcing yourself off of the floor and dragging your feet to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

It had been hours and there was no response from Tomura. You couldn't blame him. What could anyone say to a break up text? You hollowly hoped he would fight for you. Even a little. But the flat Read 14:57 showed you otherwise. This had now become a heartbreak you werent quite expecting. You couldn’t help but second guess every interaction you had with him before. If maybe you read into things a little too deeply. If maybe, some smaller, quieter part of you dreaded your father was right.

There was no use of dwelling on that now. No point in running through what you would never know. So, you sighed, and finished up in the bathroom. Slipping on your silk sleeping gown that stopped above your knees and adjusted the small straps on your shoulder. You had cried for hours after your argument – if you could even call it that– with your father was over and your face ached. The bags under your eyes showing the worse for wear state you had found yourself in. it would be okay, you told yourself. You just have to sleep it off.

And that was your plan and you slid into your welcoming bed, soft comforter embracing you and your worn feelings. You feel more tears begin to sting behind your eyelids before there's a sudden tap at your window.

A trick of the wind, you decide and return to your somber thoughts.

You would have to move on eventually, but tonight? He was the only thing on your mind. His eyes, his hair, the way he would feign annoyance when you were overly touchy, craving closer contact. He always indulged you. Always gave you more, you knew he liked it as much as you did. You were lovesick.

Tap.

There was that noise again. Louder than before as if someone had thrown a rock right at your window. The room was still and quiet so you knew it hadn’t been your imagination.

Jumping to your feet and shuffling towards the window in question you brushed your curtains to the side to see the possible culprit. And when you do, your heart drops and instant regret fills you. Stomach aching as you take in the sight before you.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki and he is pissed.

Tomura, your Tomura leering up at you with another rock resting in his hand, bigger and ready to be tossed at your window if the last attempt didn’t work.

You look around, knowing no one is in your bedroom but yourself and the moonlight, then go to open your window, ducking your head out to get a better look at him. There he was, black hoodie oversized and so soft, red eyes burning in anger but you aren't scared. You’re relieved, it's him. He's here to see you, mouth turned down in a scowl and fists clenched in fury but he was here.

You couldn’t stop your hushed whisper, “what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk.” Was his only reply before he dropped the rock and walked towards your window. It wasn’t terribly high up, but higher than he could reach without a bit of help from you.

Now that he was closer you could see the anger in his posture much more clearly. All tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. It was enough to make your stomach turn. You couldn't help but worry your bottom lip as he pulled out his phone and took a step closer.

“Really? Over a fucking text message?” He hissed, rasp in his voice, uncaring of the time of night or who could hear.

“Tomura, shh, please–” you tried, hands coming up to placate him, if only a little. Your father would have your head if he heard another man in his home, let alone Tomura Shigaraki.

He huffed a sarcastic laugh, disbelief taking over his features, but he obliged, “I don’t care what your father told you. He can’t control who you talk to.”

You shake your head, the all too familiar sting of tears in your eyes threatening to fall, “I know. I told him that, but he threatened to kick me out, to cut me off. I’m sorry Tomura, but I can't.”

“He can't do that.”

You nod, knowing all too well that your father would go through with his threat. “He can. Technically. I'm an adult, so it’s his choice.” The tears fall now, seeing the rage dissipate from Tomura, slight drop of his shoulders showing disbelief and disappointment. It's too much. This is why you didn’t want to see him, couldn’t face him. “I'm so sorry,” you whisper, trying to hold in the sobs threatening to wrack your body and possibly wake your parents up. This could not have ended worse. “I don't want it to be this way.”

“Wow, I didn't know you were such a good girl.”

Your breath hitches, caught off guard, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “I didn't know you did everything daddy says. What a good girl you are.” The tone is one you’re familiar with. Condescending. Challenging. He’s testing you.

Your cheeks flushed. What could you say? That you’re not a good girl, actually. Then what would that make you? A bad girl? You would walk right into his trap. He’s watching, waiting for a response. Something to make you slip up.

You don't have the chance to respond before he’s taking a step forward, lifting your chin with a finger so that you could look him in the eyes. Even in the dim lighting of the room those crimson eyes looked into your own. Like he was delving deeper, looking for the response that you can't seem to give him. Nothing else matters in this moment. It’s just him and you and the pale moonlight dancing between you. The air is tense and unmoving, like the smallest noise, the faintest blow of wind would ruin this moment.

You couldn’t take it, couldn’t wait another minute before your body moved, leaning forwards onto the tips of your toes to give you more leverage as your lips pressed to his. His lips were still cold and dry from the cool air outside but that didn’t matter. Nothing matters more than knowing you needed more of him and you needed it now. Tomura’s hand came to rest at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and the kiss deeper. Taking all of you in as his other hand gripped your waist.

Your hands wasted no time burying into his hoodie – so soft and worn– the faint smell of citrus and cedar being a comfort as the intoxicating kiss deepened. Tomura wasted no time, slick tongue entering your mouth, hungry, like it was the last time you would have him this way. It was too much. It was not enough. You broke the kiss, a string of saliva following the short distance you put in between. Air seemed sparse, like you couldn't get enough and Tomura spoke before you could.

“Get on the bed.”

And you did, newfound vigor in your step as you eagerly did as what you were told. Energy ebbing through your veins as excitement overtook your previous anxiety. Tomura was a mere step behind, discarding his hoodie without care and joining you on the bed, caging you beneath him as he dove back in for another kiss, wet and warm, before trailing lower. Open mouthed kisses to your jaw, then neck, his hands, rough and warm gripping your thighs, taking in all he can. After leaving a particularly hard bite on your neck, Tomura lifted your gown up, smooth silk gliding with ease above your ass and resting below your breast. It was only natural for your legs to spread for him, cool air on your bare cunt making you shiver.

“Oh?” An amused huff from the man above you makes your cheeks heat further than before. He’s seen you like this many times before, but he’s always had a way of making you feel shy. “No panties, huh?”

You push past your embarrassment. “You know i dont wear them to b– ah!” you're cut off by the feeling of his finger sliding between your folds, slick making it glide, and rubbing over your clit. The surprise of the motion makes you press your thighs closer together. Tomura grins above you, before bringing his wet finger to his mouth, a mocking shh following the motion, tongue flicking out and licking the digit as his other hand pushed your legs apart again.

He bends down, bulge in his sweatpants pressing against your bare cunt. He’s so hard and that thought only makes you wetter. Tomura’s nose brushes yours, your eyelids fluttering shut as he dives to kiss you again. All open mouthed and wet. You could taste yourself on his tongue as well as feel the pressure of his clothed erection grind against you, rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You are sure your slick is dampening his sweatpants but Tomura doesn’t care. He’s grinding you into the mattress and you’re so close to begging him to get on with it you want to scream. But almost like he’s read your mind, he pulls away.

The kisses he places along your body set your nerves on fire, anticipation eating away at your patience as he takes his time. Once he’s reached his destination, right between your thighs, he places one wet kiss onto the plush of your inner right thigh. Another teasing move. Another way to make you squirm in excitement. He looks up at you, ruby eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the room.

“Be quiet for me, yeah?”

Tomura huffs a laugh at your eager nod, grin growing wider. So quick to please. Dedicated. “Good girl.”

The praise makes you falter for a second, embarrassment threatening to make its way to the surface once more. There was no time for it now, Tomura enjoyed catching you off guard. Loved surprises. He wastes no more time, tongue licking a wet strip between your lips. The action causing you to moan louder than you intended. Your hand rushes to cover your mouth. If you were to be caught in this predicament by either of your parents it would be horrendous for the both of you.

This doesn’t stop Tomura, though. If anything you were starting to think it encouraged him, because his relentless pace on your cunt was driving you wild. His long stripes simmered into just the tip of his tongue flicking your clit and sending jolts of pleasure roaring through you. You were already close, pleasure and pressure building and building until you were so close to tipping over–

Knock knock.

“Hey sweetie. I know it's late, I just wanted to talk for a second.”

It was your mom. Holy shit it was your mom and there's a boy in your bed with his head buried between your legs and holy shit. If she opened the door, if she barged into your room in the familiar way she always had a bad habit of doing, you would be done for. With wide eyes and accelerated breaths, you clamped down harder over your mouth with both hands. Even Tomura stopped in his tracks, gaze lazily focused on the door with curiosity bleeding into his indifference.

Your mother must have taken the silence as a sign of slumber, yet she continued. Voice muffled by the door between you both.

“Your father... was harsh today. And I’m sorry for that.” She pauses, long enough for you to believe she would be giving up and going back to her bedroom. You aren't so lucky, surely at this point you were very unlucky and you dreaded whatever else she had to say. “I just want you to know that he just wants the best for you.” your heart drops as she carries on, unaware and unconcerned of the other pair of ears listening in to her words. “We don’t know him that well. We can't risk you getting involved in something you're not ready for and throwing your future away.”

At this, Tomura rolls his eyes, interest clearly lost and goes back to his earlier movements. The sloppy kiss to your clit catches you off guard and forces a whine out of you. It was small, but still a noise. Squeezing your eyes shut you prayed this would be written off as an odd sleep noise. Wishing to the sky that it wasn't noticeable and Tomura would stop. He didn’t. It was in that moment he decided pressing a finger against your entrance would bring out more noises. The digit slipping in with minimal effort and adding more pleasure to this mix as he sucked your clit.

If your mother heard anything, she didn't make it known. The floorboards outside of your door creaking with the shifting of her weight. “Well, maybe we can get ice cream or something tomorrow. Have a little girl’s day?” The silence is palpable as she waits for an answer that won't come. “Okay well, goodnight sweetie. See you in the morning.”

You don’t know what you're more grateful for; the sound of her receding steps or that fact that Tomura wasn't cruel and waited until the telltale sound of a door opening and closing rang through the air before adding another finger and curling them. This time you couldn’t bite back the moan that escaped you, hands gripping the cotton of your duvet.

“Aw, how sweet,” Tomura started, sitting up while adding a thumb to your sensitive nub and rubbing slow circles to replace his mouth. “She wants to have a little girls’ day with you.”

His mocking tone would have gotten a reaction out of you any other time, but right now you were so close. On the precipice of an orgasm that’s been drawn out for far too long. You could only look at him with half lidded eyes as his fingers worked like magic sending you closer and closer, your breath hitching as you finally, finally reached the climax. Body shaking pleasure cascades over you like a tidal wave.

“There we go,” Tomura whispers, giving your cunt a playful tap after letting you ride the sensation out. He pulls away completely to take off his sweatpants and underwear, cock already hard and leaking. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips at the sight and you hear his breathless chuckle. “I’ll let you have a taste next time, but right now, I can't wait any longer.”

It was only when he began to line up with your entrance that you absently wondered about the lack of condoms you owned. You look up at him, question burning on your tongue but he only grins at you, and you swore in that moment he was a mind reader. “I didn’t bring any with me, sorry,” his voice was far from apologetic as he stroked his cock, rubbing the head between your folds and against your clit, slick soaking the head. “But don't worry,” he continued, leaning forward and you felt the pressure at your entrance, excitement buzzing through your veins. “I’ll pull out.”

Whether you believed him or not didn’t matter, you had no time to process a thought as he began stretching you to the limit with his size. A gasp escaped your parted lips as the sickeningly sweet feeling of being stretched too far too fast took over. He gave you a minute to adjust, even as his cock twitched in anticipation of movement. The grip he had on your hips was tight enough to bruise and you knew it was taking a lot of his self control to wait for you.

He pressed on, figuring it had been long enough and bottomed out with a sigh. Your walls clenched around him and swore you could cum from the stretch alone. After giving you a second to breathe he pulled back, almost pulling out, only to snap his hips back forward into you. Your head lolled onto the pillow, hand coming up once more to mute the moans dragging from your body. Tomura hoists your legs onto each side of his shoulders,bending them forward and successfully folding you like a lawn chair as he started his aggressive pace, forcing your tight heat to clench around his cock.

“Oh, fuck…” you couldn’t help but mutter as you struggled to hold off your already approaching orgasm.

Tomura saw this as a challenge. “What? You gonna cum on my cock?” he mocked, pace wild and rough, leaving you gasping as you shut your eyes, not ready to admit how right he was. “It's okay,” he continued, leaning closer and allowing his dick to press deeper inside you. The drag hitting the bundle of nerves inside and nearly sending you over the edge. “Come on, cum on my cock like the good girl you are.”

Those words push you over, hips convulsing as your legs shake and it takes Tomura slapping a hand over your mouth this time to quiet you. You couldn’t focus on anything else, let alone keeping quiet. Your body felt light and Tomura fucked you through it. His pace grew more erratic as his grinning face became one of focus, brows furrowing as his eyes shut and he focused on his pleasure. Your pussy squeezing around him making it harder for him to stave off his own nearing climax. You were worried that at this point you were both too far gone. The silence of the home would leave the messy noises between you both loud and clear for the entire house to hear. Tomura was great at keeping his composure but the soft groans coming from your lover only showed how much he was losing his grip.

“Can’t– fuck, sorry–” you didn’t have time to decipher his strange words, your curious eyes meeting his face to gauge his expression before you feel it.

His cock twitches inside you, seed painting your insides white as his thrusts didn't slow. He was hammering away at your insides, only pumping his cum further into you. You feel so full, the warmth spreading over your body like a blanket. He came in you. Even though he said he wouldn’t, he did. The worst part about it? You don’t care. It's invigorating. You feel even more attached to him. Even closer. You want more.

Overstimulated and weak, you whimpered, thoughts swimming as Tomura finally came down from high. Slowing his thrusts and panting heavily. Your heart is drumming against your chest as he removes your sore legs from his shoulders. Shuddering as he slips out of your tight heat, feeling the cum dripping out of you and onto your sheets.

The bed dipped as he took his place next to you. Out of breath and eyes focused on the ceiling. Your ears were ringing with the sudden quietness of it all. Things felt different, heavy.

“You could always just not tell them.” It was Tomura who broke the silence first. “Act sad, mope around, and then come see me at night.”

You glanced over, vaguely registering the sweat cooling on your body. You would need to get up and get cleaned up soon. “Yeah, but if they catch me–”

“They won't. I’ll teach you how.” he turns towards you, bringing a hand to your chin to make you face him. There’s a fuzzy feeling turning in your chest and the familiarity of heat rising to your cheeks is starting to drive you mad. His grin is enamoring, red eyes almost glowing with mischief in the moonlight. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

There's an ache that tugs at your chest as you nod. “Okay.”

You are so fucked.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my works #tomura shiragaki #tomura x reader #mha tomura #shigaraki smut #fanfic #my hero academia

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discodeerdiary · 10 months ago

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There's a good reason why I try not to argue publicly with anyone under 18, and it's not that I think they're inherently stupid, it's not that I think their brains are "underdeveloped", it's not that I think they can "do no wrong", it's that I never know how much freedom they actually have to think freely, or how many of their opinions are actually their own. Of course, under-18s *can be* capable of thinking for themselves and developing their own opinions, but (here in the US at least) law and culture put a lot of roadblocks on their ability to do so.

Of course parents and teachers cannot actually control the inner thoughts of the children they wield power over, but they can restrict the information that they have access to, can punish them for saying the wrong things, can cut them off from healthy diverse social groups, and can convince the child their thoughts are being monitored through religion, psychology, and other appeals to higher authority.

Thus if a random teenager says some headass shit in my mentions I have no way of knowing if these are opinions they arrived at on their own, or if they are dogmas forced on them by the people holding food and shelter over their head. If it's the latter, there's nothing to be gained from a public confrontation: people are generally unwilling to change their opinions in a direction that threatens their social support system, and they are especially unwilling to do so at the behest of an internet stranger who cannot offer alternative forms of support. If a teen is genuinely curious about my opinion (that is *if they consent* to a discussion of disagreements) and if I have the mental bandwidth for a potentially emotionally loaded conversation, yeah I'll have it, but I'm not gonna maintain any illusions about my ability to change their mind until they can find a way to live independently.

This is also why my leniency toward the not-yet-adult tends to also extend to the recently-adult. Coming up with a system of beliefs that you're actually willing to stand behind? Shit takes time, and I'm not necessarily gonna expect it of a 20-year-old who may, for all I know, have been living under conditions of near-absolute control up until their 18th birthday. Sure they may be opening their mind in college, or college may be their parents way of keeping them too occupied with busywork to develop new opinions, as they continue to hold financial support over their head. It's around their mid-twenties that I'm willing to go full gloves-off antagonistic with strangers, knowing that they've had a few years of legal and social adulthood under their belt, and that even if they're still financially dependent on their parents it's a different sort of dependence, one where they're given default legal permission to run away from home.

A lot of people are deeply uncomfortable with this line of thinking because if you look too far into the factors that influence young people's thoughts, you eventually have to start asking yourself which forces of dependency are influencing your own beliefs and opinions. Yeah, as an independent adult you may have the option to quit your job, divorce your spouse, ditch your friends, move to another country, but realistically how many of these can you accomplish at the same time? How many do you even want to? And how are all of these forces *in aggregate* setting the acceptable limits of what you're allowed to think and feel? It can be upsetting to think of yourself this way, it can be easier to think of yourself as a true free thinker and children as mindless automatons, but I urge you to think of mentally coercive environments as a continuum rather than a binary. The point is not to free yourself from all influence, but to gain the ability to see yourself as an influenced mind, and to have compassion for those dealing with all the bullshit you don't have to anymore.

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lovemebutleavemewild · 10 months ago

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Oh lord the mafia price and pregnant one!!! Maybe one where she tries to go back to work after they move in? Or literally anything else🙏🏻

This got a bit long haha, but enjoy!

(Part 1 here and part 2 here)

You are not in a relationship.

You'd told John, that night after he'd found you in the restaurant, that you were more than happy to have him involved with the baby but that you didn't need him or anyone else. You could do it all on your own, if you needed to.

And he'd agreed with you. Or, at least, he'd told you he agreed. You start to notice, though, that things tended to go his way in the end, so subtly, you barely noticed at first.

The first time you'd taken him to a prenatal appointment, at the free clinic near your apartment, he'd sat with a muscle jumping in his jaw for the entire, very long, wait.

A week later he'd picked you up unexpectedly after a breakfast shift and, under the pretence of going for lunch, driven you to shiny high-rise office building.

"No harm in getting a second opinion, love," he'd assured you as he ushered you into the elevator and pushed the button for "Dr Gail Brady, OB/GYN."

You'd gone along with that one, on the basis that it was better for the baby, and you'd reluctantly let John pay, not even wanting to think what an hour of time with Dr Brady would cost.

There are some things you won't compromise on, of course, but he finds ways around those too. You'd refused to let him move you out of your apartment, for one. He hadn't fought you on it but you weren't stupid—you'd noticed a constant flow of men parked across the street as you came and went and you were sure John had put them there to keep an eye on you. And you had given in and let him change your locks, in the end.

Your latest "discussion" had been about your job. Or rather, your jobs. John had almost had a conniption when he'd found out tht your job at the diner was only part-time—the rest of the time, you waitress at a different, more high-end restaurant across town.

"I need to save as much as I can now, before the baby comes," you'd insisted.

"You don't need either of 'em, never mind two," John had told you, raking his hands through his hair, at which point you'd given up on the conversation. It became a point of contention, one you both tiptoed around, neither one of you willing to admit defeat.

So when your alarm goes off, at stupid o'clock in the morning, the answering groan doesn't come from your lips but from behind you.

And, okay, maybe someone who isnt your boyfriend shouldn't spend so many nights in your bed, but you have to allow yourself some indulgences.

John automatically pulls you back into his chest before you can attempt to get up, practically rolling on top of you, though he's careful not to put much of his weight on you.

"John, I have to get to work, I'm on breakfasts," you complain but he just grumbles into your neck.

"Call in sick."

"I can't," you try to tell him, but by then his hands have drifted down your, toying with the string of your sleep shorts.

"Got a spare 10 minutes then?" he asks and you feel him then, starting to grind into your back, and you give in with a moan just as his hand dips below your waistband.

You're late to work that day and you scowl at John in the car (he never lets you take the train anymore), but he just keeps a hand on your thigh, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

And, over the next few weeks, if you notice a sudden new influx of customers, who always ask to sit in your section, are polite, and tip very generously, well that's just good timing. The new uptick in your income means you can quit your extra gig after a while and even cut down your hours in your main job.

Of course, John is adamant he has no idea who any of these people are, no clue where your new, generous benefactors have come from.

These days, he just turns off your alarm every morning with a glint in his eye, as he tells you he has better ways for you to use your time.

#call of duty #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain john price x you #john price x you #captain john price smut #john price smut #asks #my drabbles #cod smut #mafia boss john price

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hawnks · 9 days ago

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Xavier is nothing if not pragmatic.

You chalk it up to the childhood he spent in the sterile basement lab of the hunter's guild. Nothing was freely given, everything was coveted. Survival was all about leverage -- and once he'd grown taller and stronger than any of the scientists, there was nothing left to barter. He had all the chips.

To your understanding, he's not evil per se. Perhaps lacking moral direction, but you've never seen him hurt someone unprovoked. And maybe he's not so great at small talk.

He's always been nice to you, though.

Which is why the guild believed you could corral him.

No one gave Xavier orders anymore, because no one could. The higher ups had stopped issuing direct commands after an incident that's only spoken about in euphemisms and whispers. You'd heard mentions of a "bloodbath." Unsubstantiated, of course.

But this isn't about them, or the guild. It's about all the people who are going to die without his help. The clock is ticking.

"Please, Xavier," you say, kneeling at his side as he lounges on the couch. "You're the only one strong enough to take this dungeon on."

He cracks an eye to peer at you. He'd invited you over for snacks and a movie, not hiding his displeasure when instead you launched straight into asking him to take on more work.

"You really want to expend that much energy?"

You'd had your own qualms about that very consideration. You're an A-class guide, have the highest output of anyone in the guild, but Xavier manages to drain you every session. It barely even made a dent in his need. He's like a black hole for energy.

If you had to guide him after any serious combat, it might put you out of commission for an entire week.

"Yes," you tell him anyway.

He closes his eyes again. "Forget it. I won't put either of us through that."

His tone is resolute, final. Never in your time with him have you managed to talk him out of anything once his mind is made up.

The way to get through to him isn't arguing, you've learned.

Leverage. You have it. He put it in your hands -- he's been asking you for months.

It was the one line you've never allowed yourself to cross with any of your charges -- the guild had already taken too much from you. You wouldn't give them your dignity, too.

But for Xavier --

"I'll kiss you."

He perks, sitting up to stare at you with rapt intensity. Hungry, doubtful.

"If you do this, I'll kiss you," you say again.

He throws his legs over the side of the couch so he can face you. He looms over you, those sentinel-bright eyes searching your face. Like you might change your mind.

"When?" he asks.

"When you get back."

He cocks his head. "For how long?"

His closeness, the gravity of him, makes your chest feel hot. You've never allowed yourself to imagine this with him, but now that you've sealed your fate, the reality of it all is starting to kick in.

He's clearly waiting for more stipulations, conditions, but you can't think of any. A kiss is a kiss. The beginning and end of it.

"This is just going to be a normal guiding session, Xavier," you tell him. "Nothing more, nothing less."

He glances at your lips, humming in response.

You can't help but notice that wasn't an agreement.

He stands, sidling around you. You hear the clink of his blade, the door open and close. Your monitor beeps just a minute later, letting you know your sentinel has entered the fray.

#Xavier x reader #Xavier posting #if you're going to ask the dog to do a trick you have to give him a treat #guideverse #guide!verse #which was the tag I was using I don't remember

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morallygreychaoticneutral · 6 months ago

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Astarion prefers monogamy.

Again, simply my cup of thought tea steeped from my game experience. Its not everyone's drink. No shame, no blame, it's your game. Warning for triggers and spoilers.

*added note due to misunderstandings.

Please notice I said "prefers monogamy" not "is monogamous". He may be up for added partners later on down the line. But definitely not any time before the epilogue in my world.

So, why do I think he prefers monogamy?

Take..

"Iv never had anyone. Not really. Nothing that compares to you."

And mix that with...

"I had nothing for so very long. NOTHING! Not even my own body!"

And add..

"You're you. Nobody is like that."

Plus countless other comments and actions and you get a bowl full of elf who just wants something for himself only for a change.

Centuries of being forced to give up or share everything. His possessions, his person, his own thoughts. Nothing to claim as own that no one else could take or touch at any moment. I'm sure if anything was given to him, he had to fight to keep it.

I think, he would be a bit possessive of anything he could claim as his own.

You are a gift to him. Something rare and special beyond words. I highly doubt he would be willing to share anything you are sharing with him outside of friendship. I could even see him getting fussy about strangers touching you. Moving you away or putting himself physically between you and whomever just touched you without asking.

Hells, even ascended Astarion isn't 100% game to share.

"As much as I wish to sequester you in a deep chamber of my palace and keep you all to myself...there is much to be done."

But, what about Halsin? He says he's fine with it.

Is he? Or is he people pleasing?

If he had said something along the lines of,

"Oh? He wants to share does he? Of course he does. I'm not up for such activities just yet, but you are free to have as much Halsin as you wish. "

I would have gone on that bear hunt, but he doesn't.

He askes you if you are wanting to sleep with Halsin because he has not been able to meet your sexual needs. And I interpreted that as he's vulnerable and worried he's being replaced for not putting out.

Imagine you had asked your lover to not to look to you for sex for reasons you are working out. They agree and you are just relieved as hell about it.

"You were patient. You cared."

Then they come along later down the line and say they are thinking about having sex with a friend. Where would your mind go?

I would bet hard gold he weighed the options in his head. "If I don't let them do this, they might leave me for good. But if I allow it, they wont have an immediate reason to leave. Halsin is the safest option given his experience."

And what's the best way to feel less awful about a situation we cant control? Create a counter situation where we gaslight ourselves into thinking its fine.

Wheeee!

I'm not saying Halsin's offer was bad, it was perfectly fine, it was just poorly placed in the grand scheme of things. If you and Astarion were having fun again before he suggested being an extra, then it would have been easier to believe he was really fine with it.

If they wanted Astarion to be a poly partner they needed to write it better. Shadowheart makes more sense as pro poly than he does.

So for me, Astarion is a one on one elf.

I am not against polyamory. I am not trying to take representation away. I am not shaming anybody for their choices. There is just not enough specific content to support it fully FOR ME. I was actually excited at the idea of having two partners in my fantasy world. Halsin was very clear and very specific about being on board. Astarion was not. And the choice did not feel right. Add a line somewhere for Astarion where he says "Im perfectly fine with sharing, darling. As long as it is discussed and we are in agreement of course." I will happily be on board with it.

#astarion #baulders gate 3 #my headcanons

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keepingitformyself · 6 months ago

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and my waves meet your shore

A/N: this one has been in the drafts for two years.... synopsis: natasha seems to have found silence in all the noise.

MASTERLIST

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: angst, fluff.

warnings: sad natasha :(

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha romanoff has lived a very lonely ife.

however, as sad as it may seem natasha never once payed any heed to it. relationships and rapport had rarely been acknowledged by her superiors during her time in the red room. but if it ever was it was only to display the inconvenience it would bring to her life.

so as a stead natasha had only ever put her mind to the things she was instructed to, unfortunately companionship had never been in that spectrum for her.

her lack of agency had always made that easier for her. she was always taught to deflect at any first sign of fragility and she never needed anyone else because— well she was simply better off on her own.

still, thoughts of having any sense of togetherness or intimacy would sometimes cross her mind, but as soon as they came she was always quick to brush them off.

it took her some time to discard the habit of having that mentality.

natasha’s upbringing was one made up of unspeakable catastrophe, things one simply could not ever bear to speak about. she had taken too many falls, and she had shed too much blood and tears for a life she never intended.

but when she did manage to set herself free, plagued with nothing but the haunts of the past she left behind, with the very small amount of hope she had left in humanity, she rose slowly from the depths of a narrative she’d never spare a glance back at again.

and she had clint barton to thank for that. he would never understand the amount of gratitude she had towards the archer. he had given her a sense of family, a sense of home. he let her in and introduced her to his own life outside of what it meant to be on the light side of the fight.

he was her first shot at a real human relationship. her shot at a second chance.

it had flicked a switch inside of her whenever she saw clint hug his kids and kiss their cheeks. natasha had only ever known cruelty, she had never seen something so benevolent before.

she liked it whenever she got to see that side of him, the side that wasn’t so stoic and on high alert all the time, the side that wasn’t agent barton.

it changed her perspective when it came to the world. she had only ever seen the ugly in people. her experience with some of the most horrendous things had allowed for her to see the humanity in others.

but unfortunately, never in herself.

even after switching her allegiance to the avengers she still couldn’t bear the thought of the person she used to be, the one that was the exact opposite of who she is now.

she devoted herself to the fight and had made her own separate code to live by. it became a need for her to do only the great or good, so much so that she was willing to put her own life on the line if it ever came to it. her entire life became one of redemption.

natasha romanoff had lived a tragic life. no one would ever understand her and her troubled past, and no one had ever made the time to try.

that is until she met you.

she had met you in a weird time in her life. taking down what was left of shield also meant exposing who she was before her years as an agent at shield.

many people were out of a job after that. some moved on, others promoted into whatever secret agency would come next. you however, had been offered a spot next to the world’s mightiest heroes.

she was wary of you, of course. she had the right to be. it wasn’t everyday someone would show up out of the blue and offer her a piece of themselves.

you were like that a lot. natasha quickly learned you had no problem in sharing parts about you to make others feel better. sure, you weren’t someone who carried a large amount of baggage like the rest of them, but that felt refreshing to most of the team.

natasha never got to pick her battles before, until now. she’d always deny saying that she hated the fight more than she showed.

the truth is, natasha wasn’t ready for a fight much like this one, but nonetheless, it was still one she wouldn’t surrender to.

—

natasha has nightmares. bad ones too.

it’s the same thing every time they happen. she wakes up in the night and paces her room, it feels like a fire inside. the smoke that isn’t there manages to make her feel like it consumes her into its flames.

she feels helpless in its flames, she convinced herself that the lifetimes worth of nightmares is what she deserves. she cries and hopes that it ends soon, all she can do is hold her own until it passes.

suddenly, you barge in. you find natasha on the floor, looking frail and disrupted. you don’t waste a moment in rushing towards her.

you don’t even think about how you’ve never been in such close proximity to her. then you hug her. you tell her that she’s okay, that it’s okay.

she never pushes you off and it surprises you, natasha quickly figures that she likes to be held and you feel warm against her, so she lets you.

you kiss her dampened forehead and keep coaxing her, telling her anything and everything that you think might help her. you never push her into opening up, you understand the intimacy of it, natasha is thankful for that.

when you feel her breath steady and her cries have grown quieter you walk her back to her bed. you both look at each other for a moment and she breathes out before saying.

“thank you.” her voice comes out in a rasp.

you only nod, a small smile on your face. you make your way to leave until you feel her hand graze your own. you meet her eyes again with a furrow in your brows.

the look she gives you tells you that she doesn’t want this to be brought up again and that she trusts that it will remain between you both. your hand touches her own,

“you can trust me.” is all you say before leaving back towards where you came from.

when natasha wakes up that morning she finds that she hates her reflection in the mirror. she notices pieces of her old self when staring into her eyes.

she clenches the counter under her hands and squeezes her eyes until she musters up enough courage to walk out of her bedroom door.

when she makes her way into the busy kitchen she’s greeted instantly by everyone. she smiles and greets back, acting as if nothing had happened the night prior. that is until she feels a warm cup being pushed into her hands.

“morning, i made your coffee. i’ll serve you a plate in just a moment.” you greet the redhead with a smile. she raises her eyebrows in surprise and takes the coffee in her hands.

she sits besides clint and hums in contentment once she figures out that you made her cup just the way she liked it. black and one sugar.

you make breakfast easy for her to feel comfortable in. you act as if nothing had happened and continue to pass around jokes with the boys. natasha even passes you the ketchup bottle with a small smile when you ask for it. your mind cheers at the small progress you think you’ve made.

now, natasha knows that she can somewhat trust you and in the enlightenment of that she starts to loosen herself when it comes to you.

since then you’ve seen more of natasha around the building and you notice how she’s open to your company even more.

you now find the redhead sitting next to you during meals if she finds a space empty and she acknowledges you with a smile if you see her passing in hallways throughout the day.

one particular moment that really catches you by surprise is when you finally let yourself make the time to sharpen your knife collection. you hadn’t had the chance to since work piled up and it wasn’t until today that you were now allowed a free day.

and when you make it to your armory you find that all your blades and knives had been sharpened and cleaned. a note left by the redhead in your locker.

‘i know you haven’t had the time. -N’ you’re left shocked but don’t even question how she knew this despite never mentioning it to her.

two weeks later, she walks up to you in the middle of your workout. she taps your shoulder and you remove your earbud to turn towards her.

“hi!” you say too enthusiasticly, surprised she had walked up to you to start a conversation.

you’ve learned by now to never push for her attention, you let her come to you when she wants to. everything had to happen at her own pace if you want to be her friend.

she invites you for movies in her room later that night. a shy smile invades her face as she releases the sentence, you could tell she seemed a bit nervous at the idea of being in a room alone with you.

you agree as cooly as you can, careful to not overexcite your response in case she suddenly sees it as weird.

later that night you find yourself in bed with natasha, she shares her bag of skittles with you whilst she chooses a movie. you smile when you notice the stash of snacks she had hidden, a variety of skittles and reece’s. you make a mental note to gift her some more of her favorite snacks.

she makes you watch her favorite bond films, you never point it out but you know for most of the movies she had watched you instead.

the gears turn in natasha’s head. she watches you laugh and sees the fascination swirl in your eyes as you become invested in the action sequences.

she searches and searches for any sign of bad intention in you. part of her has not fully comprehended how someone like you had wanted to be involved with someone like her. she knows how patient you’ve been…but why?

she absolutely cannot help it that she feels this way, not when it’s been programmed into her to never be this vulnerable.

but every bone within her knows you’re anything but ill-intended. her mind just simply can’t wrap around the idea that someone seems to want to stay.

once the movie had finished you stayed back for a while to talk. you had no problem in taking charge of most of the conversation, you knew natasha was still adjusting to you.

she asks you questions, you answer.

you tell her about your family. you grew up in brooklyn, a cute brownstone in the park slope neighborhood. you had two older siblings, each four years older. a brother, a stockbroker and your sister who was an interior designer.

you notice the small quirk in natasha’s face when you mention your siblings, you decide not to question it.

until two weeks later. you’re in her room again and she brings it up during a harry potter marathon.

“i have a sister.” is all she has to say before you pause the movie.

“pardon?” you look at her, but she’s still staring at the screen.

“i have a sister, or had, i don’t really know where she is now.”

you tread carefully with your next question.

“do you think about her a lot?” the question finally makes her look at you.

“all the time.” she whispers.

you think of how devastating it may be for her to know someone out there was once a part of her.

“thank you for telling me.”

—————

after a solo mission to johannesburg you come back in very bad shape. you’d barely made it out by the time an airlift came to retrieve you.

and once you’re lifted into the jet by a combat med you don’t notice the worried redhead that’s in the jet waiting for you as well.

she grabs your face in her two hands, worried expression on her face.

you’re breathing heavy, and you’re clutching your stomach with the same arm that’s throbbing.

all you can really do is give her a bloodied smile.

you take a sharp breath in, “hey…” then your eyelids go heavy and you don’t really remember much of anything after that.

by the time you’ve landed it’s all a mess. everyone hears about your state, and the whole team is there to meet you at the landing dock when you’re being carried in a stretcher into the compound.

natasha only talks to three people until you wake up. steve to report everything to, and bruce and doctor cho for any inquiry on your state of health.

despite everyone’s efforts to convince natasha you’re fine, she’s stays put and keeps her eye on you through surgery. clint tries to get her to eat but his attempts fail, only met with complete silence. and wanda tries to tell her to at least freshen up for you, but she’s met with silence yet again.

it’s all honestly a bit off putting how eerily quiet she got. the team decides then, that when it comes to you it’s best to just let her be.

but she’s there again when you wake up in the med bay. she instantly hears your shift in breathing and wakes up only seconds after you do.

“you’re awake.” is the first thing she says.

and you in your disoriented state say,

“good. i’m really loopy still, so i can’t really tell if i’m dreaming or not.”

natasha lets out what sounds like a relieved sigh or a laugh, but it makes you smile, and you both stare at eachother for a few seconds.

you look at her, a grateful smile on your face.

the gears in natasha’s head turn. something about the way she found you almost twenty four hours ago had shifted something in her.

she was with steve when you reported you may need extraction as soon as possible. your breathing was ragged and you let out at strangled whimper before the line cut off.

“i’m going.” was all natasha said before she headed off to pack a bag. she was there before the extraction team fifteen minutes later.

it was hard to think of anything else besides you, on her way to you. and it was hard to think of anything else besides being with you when she finally got to you.

it was something she couldn’t quite place, or maybe she could, maybe she wasn’t ready to face it yet.

you squint your eyes at the redhead next to you, noticing her deep in thought state. you almost think you see a twinge of something else besides relief in her eyes. but before you could question it almost robotically a mask is put back up.

“i’ll go get, cho.” is all she says before she clears her throat and leaves.

after that, you catch natasha around you alot. more than usual.

suddenly every partner mission you’re assigned to, natasha is there with you ready to go.

and you never find out, but she made steve promise to assign you both together. she never really tells him why, even when he asks she’s quite good at deflecting those questions.

and quite honestly, he didn’t have it in himself to question her, knowing she always had everyone’s best interests in mind.

it’s a little past midnight when you find natasha sitting on the compound’s balcony. the distant hum of the city mixes with the soft chirping of crickets, creating a quiet melody that feels oddly serene. she doesn’t startle when you join her, doesn’t even glance up, but you notice the slight tension in her shoulders ease as you settle into the chair beside her.

the silence between you stretches, comfortable yet charged with unspoken words. she’s never been much for small talk—her world operates on subtleties and actions rather than open confessions. you’ve learned to understand her language, the way she communicates through fleeting gestures and careful glances.

“i didn’t expect you to be awake,” she finally says, voice low and steady. her gaze is fixed on the horizon, as if the view holds answers she’s not ready to share.

“couldn’t sleep,” you reply, mirroring her tone. “too quiet.”

she huffs a quiet laugh. “you don’t strike me as someone who likes noise.”

“i don’t. but sometimes, silence is its own kind of noise, don’t you think?”

her eyes flicker toward you, studying your profile like she’s trying to decipher a code. you don’t push; you’ve never needed to. natasha unfolds on her terms, like a flower reluctant to bloom under artificial light.

“i used to hate silence,” she admits after a moment. “it felt… heavy. like it was waiting to crush me.”

you nod, not saying anything but giving her the space to continue.

“then, i realized it wasn’t the silence i hated. it was being alone in it.”

the admission hangs in the air, raw and unguarded in a way natasha rarely allows herself to be. you shift in your seat, careful to keep your movements unassuming.

“you’re not alone anymore,” you say gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

her head tilts, and for a brief moment, you see the war behind her eyes—the battle between wanting to believe you and the deep-seated scars of her past telling her otherwise.

“it doesn’t feel like it when you’re around,” she finally says, her voice soft but carrying the weight of her sincerity.

it’s a small victory, but one that fills your chest with warmth. you glance at her, and this time, she meets your eyes. there’s a vulnerability in her gaze, a quiet plea for something she doesn’t know how to ask for.

“you don’t have to carry it all by yourself,” you say. “not anymore.”

her lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile, and she looks back out at the skyline.

“i know.”

it’s not an overt declaration or a grand epiphany, but it’s enough. natasha romanoff doesn’t find solace in words. she finds it in actions, in the quiet moments shared with someone who sees her for who she is and stays anyway.

natasha hesitates, her fingers drumming lightly on the armrest of her chair. she’s rarely still for long—always poised, always prepared to move, to act. but tonight, she’s caught between the present and the thousand questions swirling in her mind.

her voice comes unexpectedly, low and careful. “when you were hurt on that mission…” she pauses, her jaw tightening as she fights the urge to retreat into herself. “…i realized something.”

you turn toward her fully, watching as she wrestles with whatever it is she’s trying to say. her hands rest on her lap now, and her gaze is focused on them as though the answers are carved into her palms.

“nat…” you prompt softly, giving her space to continue.

she exhales, a sound heavy with reluctance and resolve. “i’ve lost people before. more than i can count. and i always told myself it was… just part of the job. you can’t stop to feel when you’re in the middle of everything. you can’t afford to.”

you stay quiet, knowing this isn’t the moment for interruptions.

“but when i saw you…” her voice falters, her fingers curling into fists before relaxing again. “it wasn’t the same. i didn’t—” she stops, looks up at you with a rare vulnerability that makes your chest ache. “i didn’t know what I’d do if you didn’t come back.”

the admission is small, almost swallowed by the quiet around you, but it lands with the force of something much larger. you feel the words settle in your chest, warm and grounding.

you lean forward slightly, letting the closeness fill the space between you. “you don’t have to say anything you’re not ready for,” you offer, keeping your tone as gentle as you can. “but just so you know… i’m not going anywhere.”

natasha’s lips press into a thin line, her gaze searching yours as though she’s testing the truth of your words. slowly, her hand moves, and she brushes her fingers against yours. it’s tentative, a question wrapped in the smallest of gestures.

you respond by turning your hand over, letting her fingers slip into yours. it’s not much—a barely-there connection—but to natasha, it feels monumental.

“i don’t know what this is,” she admits, her voice trembling just slightly, “or if i even deserve it. but... you make me feel something i didn’t think i could anymore.”

your breath catches at her confession, the subtle weight of it more than you expected but exactly what you’ve been hoping for.

“i think you deserve a lot more than you give yourself credit for,” you reply, your thumb brushing softly over her knuckles. “and whatever this is, i’m okay with figuring it out… with you.”

she doesn’t respond immediately, but the way her grip tightens around your hand is all the answer you need. the silence that follows is comfortable, filled not with the weight of unspoken fears but with the quiet promise of something new.

natasha glances at you once more, her green eyes soft in the moonlight. “thank you,” she murmurs. it’s the second time she’s said it to you, but tonight it carries more meaning, more intention.

for the first time in a long time, natasha feels the silence settle.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #black widow #marvel #natasha romanoff imagine

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hannahbarberra162 · 25 days ago

Text

Under the Microscope, Part 14 (Yan Sabo x Reader)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

The other parts

TW: light somnophilia

Huge thank you to @tryingandfailingtowrite for editing, beta-ing, and helping me with the smutty scene. Thank you to @sordidmusings, @moldychefboyardeecan and @gouraminnow for beta-ing and leaving your comments and suggestions! Thank you to @kitsunechan707 for the Sabo somno inspo :). I'll leave one more thank you at the end to not spoil a bit.

Sabo didn’t have to look at the clock to know what time it was. The darkness of the sky was just being penetrated by the early grays of the dawn, sunrise still a few hours away. After so many years of being in charge of various flanks of the Revolutionary Army, Sabo had become accustomed to waking up and starting his day before five in the morning. Even when the two of you had been on the island together, he’d maintained his routine and worked for hours before either you or Ace started stirring. He always had so much to do, countless reports to read and letters to write, plans to work on, and missions to oversee. It felt like he never had enough time to finish everything he needed to accomplish.

But now as he watched as your chest slowly rose and fall, your even breath tickling his skin. He couldn’t find it in himself to move away from you. He knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, but he didn’t want this time to end. As he came to his senses, he realized he was on his back in the bed with you crowding his side, trying to absorb his heat. Your face was pressed against his chest near his beating heart. Sabo brought his flesh hand to rest on your side and put the metal one behind his head. His fingers twitched with the urge to run both of his hands over your body, to feel all the dips and curves under his soft touch. But it was still early and you needed rest.

That and Sabo wasn't as forward with you as he was previously. He certainly wanted to kiss you again or have you in his clothes, but given the intensity of recent events, he thought it best to pull back and allow yourself to calibrate to your new normal. To his surprise, his strategy worked. At least for a night. You'd asked him to stay with you and clutched him tight all night long. Yes, you'd asked for Ace first and were really after the warmth of his mera-mera, but he supposed being a sentient heating pad was better than nothing.

Sabo's metal hand ran through his hair, and he winced when one bearing snagged on his hair and pulled a few out. You hadn’t truly grasped what Sabo was telling you with the metal hand, but that was okay. He should have guessed you'd be too distracted by the tech to focus on the meaning behind his example. He wanted you to see that, despite losing his hand, Sabo was still himself. You’d known him as he was for the entire relationship, and finding out he had a metal hand hadn’t changed your perception of him. If anything, it probably endeared him to you a little, given your proclivities. He’d try again later that day to get the example to sink in for you, this time without robotics.

In truth, it broke Sabo’s heart the way you talked about yourself, just like it did when he heard Ace do the same. In that way, you were so similar to Ace, so sure that everyone would discard you at the slightest inconvenience or trouble. That you didn’t have any value to anyone besides what you provided. You’d spoken to Ace about his own issues, but Sabo supposed it was more difficult to apply those same ideas to yourself.

Sudden movement from you distracted him from his thoughts. You stirred slightly in your sleep, your brow furrowing as you worried about something in your dreams. A small whimper escaped your lips as your fingers gripped his shirt tightly; whatever you were dreaming about was surely unpleasant.

Sabo slipped his flesh hand down the neck hole of your shirt to run it up and down your back. He didn’t think you’d mind, you probably would prefer his touch to whatever unpleasantness you were reliving. He kissed the top of your head while bringing his other arm down to hug you tightly. He hoped you weren’t dreaming about the beating you’d taken - he would do anything to have you forget that entirely. Your jaw had been wired shut for weeks, so it wasn’t like he could ask about it, but he suspected you wouldn’t have spoken about it even if you could. Yet another similarity between you and Ace - two people who shoved down their hurt until it erupted at a later time. Maybe he’d try to gently prod and see how you were feeling, he thought as he soothed you. You quieted back down in his arms, your brow smoothing out as your dreams took a more pleasant turn.

But after rubbing your soft skin to calm you in your sleep, Sabo was left with another problem – his raging erection. His flesh hand was still under your shirt and his only option was his robotic hand. He yearned to stroke his cock with you so near but the metal was a much rougher sensation than skin. He could do it, he’d masturbated with it before, but it wasn’t as pleasant. While thinking what to do, Sabo’s fingers traced circles into your back, his aching cock practically throbbing for contact. A near smile graced your lips when you let you a soft sigh, and his decision was made.

Sabo reached for the nightstand at his side and grabbed his glove off the top counter. Sabo used his teeth to pull his glove on with muscle memory while keeping his eyes trained on you, making sure you remained asleep for the duration of his activity. His cock strained against his pants, uncomfortably pushing against the metal zipper. Sabo reached down and unfastened his pants, freeing his weeping cock as it stood rigidly at attention. Before you, the thought of masturbating next to a sleeping woman would have never crossed his mind, but the vision of you peacefully resting on his chest was too much for him to ignore right now.

His eyes slid closed when he finally wrapped his hand around himself and he imagined it was your hand that fisted the base of his cock.. It was more challenging with the texture of the leather glove, but he’d make do. Sabo slowly stroked the length of his cock, spreading the beads of pre-cum down his shaft with a tight grip. It felt wrong to stroke himself to the thought of you while you slept peacefully next to him, but not enough to stop him. Sabo took care not to wake you as he worked his hand up and down at a measured pace.

His movements sped up with the thought of your soft skin under his fingertips., His mind conjured more images of you as he pushed himself towards his climax. The way your lips would curve so sweetly when you smiled. What you might look like underneath him when you took his cock. The way your cheeks would hollow when you sucked him off and how you would beg him for his touch. His imagination went further, picturing the tears that would threaten to fall when you pleaded for a reprieve. Your poor pussy overstimulated and dripping as you repeated his name like a prayer as he drove you toward another orgasm. The ring of Sabo, Sabo, Sabo in his ears seemed almost real as his cock twitched and throbbed at the thought.

He came with a soft grunt, his cum spurting all over his lower stomach. Luckily, he’d been on many missions in close quarters, so making little to no noise while cumming was easy. He was still wearing his clothes which made cleaning up his mess easier. After he ensured none got on you, Sabo gently undid the buttons of his shirt with one hand. Sabo reluctantly rolled you carefully off his chest and onto your side. Slipping out of his button-down, Sabo tossed it on the floor and cuddled up behind you. He yawned just as the rays of the morning sun came up over the horizon. He really should get out of bed and get going. There was so much to do - meetings and notes and plans and calls and-

Sabo yawned again and pulled you closer to his chest, his eyes sliding closed once more.

Your POV

You blinked awake in the same bed that you’d been in for weeks now. But instead of having to turn your head to look out the window, the sunshine was streaming into your room. Oh yeah, Sabo had moved your bed….and was still in it. You felt his warmth at your back; the heat ebbing and flowing with each even breath he took. His arm draped over your middle, and your legs were tangled with his as he twitched slightly in his sleep. His metal hand was in front of you, and now you could inspect it without feeling weird about being watched while you took your time to examine it.

You slowly picked up his wrist and held the metal contraption as you marveled at the intricate details of its workings. Someone had put a lot of effort and love into Sabo’s prosthetic, even making the plain metal have a filigree style to match his general proclivity towards…frills. It wasn’t a surprise that people loved him; you’d seen the way the RA staff treated him before the battle. Still, you hadn’t thought much about the people Sabo would call his family and friends outside of Ace.

You were still enraptured by the joint work of the hand when you felt Sabo stir behind you. You dropped his hand and pretended to sleep yourself to ward off any awkward conversations. Sabo yawned but didn’t rub his face on you or pull you closer like he sometimes used to do on the island at night. Instead, he removed his arm and raised them both above his head, grunting as he stretched his limbs.

“G’morning, Sunny,” Sabo said, smacking his lips a few times and rubbing his chest with his prosthetic hand. His morning voice was rougher and deeper than usual. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember waking up with Sabo on the island — he was almost always gone by the time you woke up.

“Get out, I gotta pee,” you stated with a roll of your eyes, “and why’s your shirt on the ground?”

Your eyes narrowed as you eyed Sabo. He had never taken off his clothes when you’d slept together before. It seemed odd to wake up to a shirtless Sabo the first time you actually asked him to stay.

“Hm? You kept asking me to be warmer and warmer. Problem was solved when I took off my shirt,” he said with a pleasant smile. One more stretch, and Sabo sat upright in the bed before he swung his legs over to the side. “D’ya need any help to get to the bathroom? I know the nurses helped you walk there for a while. Speaking of -”

“No. Go, Sabo,” you urged, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. In truth, you had needed help walking when your bones were broken, but the nurses had done it without making you feel weak. If Sabo helped you, you might consider turning yourself into the Marines out of sheer humiliation.

There was a knock on the door and it immediately opened to reveal Marco on the other side, your chart in his hands. You hated it when people knocked and didn’t wait for a response before they entered. His smile widened a smidge as his eyes passed between you and Sabo. You wanted to protest that it wasn’t like that to Marco, but it probably wouldn’t have changed his mind anyway. The men had already both annoyed you and the day had barely started.

“Good morning yoi. I see you’re already up — we’re gonna work on some physical therapy and test where you are now that you’re healed-” Marco began before Sabo cut him off.

“In a few minutes, Doc. She needs to-”

“ She can speak for herself. Get out , Sabo,” you said, nudging him with your foot. “Marco I’ll be ready in a few minutes, please leave,” you stated with a sniff.

You’d never been so direct, always afraid of confrontation or that people would take your words wrong. Now you were bossing around Marco the Phoenix and the Second in Command of the RA like they were errant school children. Marco smiled placidly, unoffended at your statement.

‘I’ll knock again in 15 minutes-”

“And you’ll wait until I tell you to enter,” you said primly.

“Of course,” he said, nodding his head at you. Sabo hummed, picked his shirt off the ground, and placed his hat on top of his head. He turned to face you and tried to kiss the top of your head as you dodged him.

“Be back soon; I’ll go get us breakfast. It’s gonna be a great day,” he said with a bright smile.

It was not a great day.

In fact, this was one of the most irritating days you could ever remember. It was only beaten out of first place by the time a colleague incorrectly explained to you the concept behind a paper that you authored. Everything was so much more difficult than you remembered — stretching, walking, not bumping into things, judging how far away things were, reading, writing… you were so angry that you wanted to explode everything. Again.

The morning began with Marco leading you through physical therapy exercises due to your deconditioning. He’d healed your body, but your muscles were still weak from weeks of disuse after lying in bed. You were on the floor on a thin mat as Marco stretched your legs, pushing them past what was comfortable. Not only did the stretching cause you discomfort, but Sabo had also invited himself into the room. He threw Marco nasty glances whenever the doctor touched your skin. It was purely professional, but that didn’t stop the dark look that grew on Sabo’s face..

For example, Marco was stretching your hamstrings with you. You were laid on your back as Marco took your ankle in his large hand and pushed your leg towards your chest. The groaning of strained metal was audible as Sabo tightened his grip on his pipe. Marco’s patience had finally run out and he kicked Sabo out.

Not only was the stretching painful but you found that even walking short distances was a challenge for you. Once upon a time, you could walk all day long with no issues, like you had on the island. Now walking up and down the hallway of the ship left you needing rest. Marco kept making you sit down after every pass down the hall. Yes, you needed it, but it was so annoying to sit there while Marco yapped at you about slow and steady progress and muscle retention. After about an hour, you left to go nap in your room before lunch, before he could tell you yet again what admirable progress you’d made.

What really tipped you over the edge was when you and Sabo spent the early afternoon together in his room. You two sat at his desk as he tried to help you rebuild your reading ability. The desk was cluttered with books, letters, and papers, so there was barely any room left for your remedial work. The two of you sat side by side, thighs touching as he went through the basics of phonics with you. You couldn’t even move the desk to get more space from Sabo since it was bolted to the floor, so it wouldn’t move in a storm.

Between your traumatic brain injury and your missing eye, there were several obstacles ahead of you that needed to be solved before you’d be able to be read at the level you were before. Sabo was patient and kind, and you really tried to keep that in mind, but every little comment from him felt like a personal blow. Each one cemented just how behind you were and how much progress you’d have to make before you could be somewhat competent again.

Marco had suggested starting with basic phonics and working your way up to determine where exactly you were with your reading ability. It was a good idea, but after about five minutes, you were ready to be done with the activity. It was humiliating to sit there with Sabo and have him write various letters in combinations and have you sound them all out — and even worse to find out that you couldn’t remember them all. You were a published scientist, allegedly at the top of your field, and you couldn’t predictably tell Sabo what sound “ch” made.

“Wonderful, you’re doing so well, Sunny! Now, what sound does this letter make?” Sabo asked, pointing to a letter on the paper. Your eye had a hard time keeping up with the tasks required and your mind was spinning from all the exertion. You weren’t doing well, you thought bitterly, barely a month previously you’d read through all of Sabo’s textbooks on the island in a matter of days.

“Sabo, I’m taking a break,” you said, reaching with the heel of your hand to rub at your good eye. Sabo caught your wrist and held it down to the table; a scowl pulled at your lips when he stopped you.

“Let’s just do five more, OK? We’re almost done with two-letter combinations and we can work our way up to three-letter words after your break. Is your eye tired -”

“Yeah, my eye’s tired,” you snapped while using your other hand to rub your eye. Sabo frowned at you.

“Don’t rub, it’s not going to help. If you’re tired, we can do some eye exercises before we move on to practicing depth perception -”

“I don’t want to do eye exercises, ” you hissed at him. You didn’t want to do eye exercises or leg exercises or practice your depth perception or any of the things that you now needed just to be you. You wanted everything to go back to the way it was before, how things used to be for you. Sabo squeezed your hand and gave you a thoughtful look.

“I know you’re having a hard time -”

“Oh, you know, do you Sabo? You know I’m having a hard time?” your voice began to rise as you yanked your hand back from his. Sabo’s eyes widened as he put down the pencil in his hand.

“Sunny, if you’ll let me -”

“If I let you what Sabo? Put me in seastone again?” you yelled, your frustration letting your bottled anger leak out.

“Sunny, I -”

“No! Shut up , Sabo! You always have an answer for everything, and I’m sick of it! You plan everything in my life, and it’s not fair! I’m not your puppet to move around how you want - I don’t wanna read anymore, I don’t wanna look at letters anymore, I don’t wanna practice my depth perception or stretch or do any of that shit! I DON’T WANT TO DO IT ANYMORE!” you screamed loudly enough to make your voice crack, but it did little to quell the fire that raged in you. There was so much you were angry about, but you couldn't even keep all the thoughts in your mind, which only served to enrage you further.

With a small roar and all the adrenaline you had in your body, you swept all the books, pens, papers, and notes Sabo had on his desk onto the floor and stomped out of the room.

Sabo’s POV

Sabo sat unmoving in his room as papers wafted all over the floor. He’d never seen you so volatile before, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Yes, he knew you were still mad about the seastone bracelet, and he did want to talk to you about it, but your explosive reaction was something new. Marco had told him you’d be emotionally labile and perhaps prone to anger but he didn’t think you had it in you to yell at him.

He liked it.

Sabo wanted you to feel comfortable enough to yell at him, like you did with Ace. He wanted you to feel safe in your ability to rail at him, knowing that he’d never purposefully cause you any harm. Of course, he didn’t like that you were upset but he felt better knowing that he was perhaps becoming another safe space for you. After all, Ace was leaving the next day and you’d need someone else to rely on. Sabo needed that person to be him.

Even so, Sabo did feel guilty for pushing you so hard with the lessons that day. It had been a long morning spent with Marco in physical therapy, followed by a draining session of learning to read with him. You were uncomfortable during the time you spent in his room, fidgeting and second guessing yourself at every turn. Your missing eye also played into the issues at hand; Sabo remembered his own strain when he had to relearn to do things without his left eye. He knew you were impatient to get back to working order, but it wasn’t going to happen overnight. He’d keep helping you no matter how much you destroyed his room.

Sabo sighed as he looked at the upturned books on the floor. He knelt as he began picking them up and placing them haphazardly on the desk to be sorted later. Maybe piling them would add more drama for the next time you shoved them off.

Your POV

Your stomping would have been more cathartic if you hadn’t had to take a break on the stairs on your way to the deck. After resting a minute, you regained your strength and made your way to the deck of the ship while trying to avoid bumping into anything. What you really wanted to do was climb into the crow’s nest and stew there, but you weren’t confident in your climbing ability yet. Then Sabo and Ace would freak out and the cycle would start anew. No, for the time being, you went and sat on the floor of one of the Marine lifeboats after removing the covering. You brooded there and errantly rubbed both your eyes—Sabo be damned—when the smell of a campfire drifted towards you.

“Don’t rub -”

“If you tell me not to do one goddamned thing, I’m pushing you overboard,” you deadpanned to Ace. He chuckled and sat on the floor of the lifeboat facing you.

“Bad day?” he asked in an amused tone.

“Fuck off,” you replied as tears filled your good eye.

“Whoa, didn’t mean to - hey, Sunny, I’m sorry,” he said as you wiped your eye again. He was leaning forward with both arms open but you weren’t in the mood right now.

“Don’t touch me,” you said, hugging your arms across yourself. Ace looked crestfallen, but you didn’t care. You wanted to feel bad and sorry for yourself and it wasn’t your problem that he’d come to find you.

“Tell Sabo and Marco I’m fine. Leave me alone,” you said, pulling your knees to your chest.

“They didn’t send me. I felt the bad vibes in the air and wanted to come commiserate. You know I’m always down for a good sulk,” Ace said, tipping his hat up with his finger. You snorted but didn’t smile. Stupid Ace and his stupid jokes that made you feel a little better.

“Are you gonna show me something else to make me mad?” you asked, reaching into your pocket to touch the bounty poster that you kept on your person at all times. Ace frowned and looked up at you, the very picture of a sad puppy.

“No. I’m sorry, Sunny. I didn’t mean to make you so upset. I don’t know why I did that,” he said, inspecting the skin of his arm to avoid eye contact.

“It’s alright. Sabo probably wouldn’t have shown me anyway. I’m glad I know,” you said, looking past him at the sea. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments before Ace couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why’re you out here anyway?” he asked, now fiddling with the medallion on his hat strings.

“I threw all the stuff off Sabo’s desk and yelled at him,” you replied, still staring past Ace.

“Hah! Hell yeah, I’m not the only one in trouble,” Ace said with a grin. You shrugged. You felt a little bad about pushing the books onto the floor - you’d seen some land on their spines and splay open - but you’d go back and apologize later. Maybe.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Ace said apropos of nothing, still fiddling with his hat.

“Wh - wait, I thought you had a few more days,” you sputtered. The news was unexpected — you knew he’d be leaving shortly but not that soon.

“No, Marco’n me gotta head off to Wano. Gotta help Loof like always. I think he’s gonna try to take down Kaido? Not really sure,” Ace said speculatively. “But I getta see Yamato and Izou either way, so that’ll be good too.”

“Can I come-” you said as soon as the thought popped into your mind. Maybe Ace would let you join him, and you could-

“No. Sunny, you’re not coming with me. It’s too dangerous. You’re staying with Sabo. We talked about this on the island and it’s even more true now. You need someone to protect you, and there’s only a few people strong enough to do it. Me ‘n Marco will be busy and I don’t want you getting kidnapped or hurt. You’re staying with Sabo,” Ace said with finality as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“I don’t have to stay with Sabo, I could go-”

“No,” Ace said, as if he had the final say in everything.

“You’re not the boss of me, I could go…I could go to the moon!” you said petulantly as you kicked at him weakly. Ace barked out a laugh and moved his legs to avoid your attack.

“Yeah, to the moon. Good one, Sunny.”

“I could! To the man on the moon!” you said firmly, banging your fist on your knee for emphasis.

“Hah! D’ya need me to get Marco? You hit your head again?” Ace asked with a smile.

“No, he’s invited me! Y’know, Eneru?” you said, waving your hand at the sky.

“What are you -”

“ENERU!” you said, now pointing at the moon visible in the late afternoon sky. Ace’s puzzled look had you zooming in on the moon multiple times until you saw a familiar palace.

“What the fuck -” Ace said quietly as you searched for Eneru. You spotted the strange man and zoomed in a little further. He was sitting on his throne, his long earlobes moving on their own in the low gravity of the moon.

“My goddess, what brings you to my domain? Another discussion about plasma?” Eneru asked with an indulgent smile, but you didn’t return it — you weren’t in the mood to smile back. You’d had some interesting conversations with him in the past about electricity, but now wasn’t the time. “Ah, your eye! What have they done to-”

You didn’t want to hear Eneru’s strange talk about being a god and how you could be his goddess.ou flicked your hand through the magnification to remove it.

“Did-, do-do people know about that guy? That he’s there ? That- but he- why does he look like that?” Ace sputtered, shaking his head in confusion.

“Dunno. He appeared on the moon one day,” you stated flatly, “Ace, please, can’t I go with you and Marco to Wano? I’ll be good.”

Your eye filled with tears as you pleaded with him again. Ace sat up and extended his arms toward you and this time you did take him up on the offer. You sat between his legs as he wrapped you in a giant hug. You leaned your chin on his freckled shoulder and allowed his warmth to envelop you.

“No, Sunny. You can’t. It’s not about being good or not. You need to learn how to like, walk again, and read again, and do all the things you like. You’re not a fighter and that’s all there’s gonna be there. All I’m good at is fighting, I gotta help Loof-”

“That’s not all you’re good at,” you interrupted, leaning your forehead on his shoulder to sniffle. “You can also eat faster than anyone else,” you said with mock sincerity. Ace laughed and you chuckled into his shoulder.

“Wait till you meet Luffy, he’s just as bad as I am. Sabo’s the only civilized one of the three of us.” You hummed at the mention of Sabo as your gut churned. The longer you sat there with Ace, the worse you felt about how you’d lashed out at Sabo. It wasn’t his fault you were tired and upset, at least not about the reading and eye exercises. He deserved the bit about the seastone, but the rest was uncalled for and you’d have to apologize. You sighed heavily and laid your head on Ace.

“You wanna know what I do when I’m sad?” Ace asked, rubbing your back.

“What?” you replied, picking up your head.

“I blow stuff up. You wanna blow stuff up with me?” he asked, pushing you back a little to look at your face. You nodded, your eyes locked on his.

“Yeah. I really do.”

Thank you to BubbleBul on Ao3 for the suggestion that Sunny would see Eneru on the moon <3

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @epochal-oracle @divinedolliebun @rebeccawinters @extremely-ashtridic @sle3pymarimo @violetmatcha

#op x y/n #x reader #under the microscope au #sabo x reader #sabo one piece #sabo the revolutionary #revolutionary sabo #one piece sabo #sabo x you #Sunny's gonna apologize to all the books #run a finger tenderly down their spines #Sabo's gonna 🫦#what's she gonna do without her favorite and only friend?

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arcanewhoosh · 6 months ago

Text

The Bolter

2.2k words

Proofread? Y/N

TW: Minor descriptions of injuries

Arcane Series Finale spoilers

In the aftermath of the Battle of Piltover, you find yourself desperately clinging to a toy monkey head with nails hammered into it.

If you were to ask the regular citizens of Piltover and Zaun, the regular duration of a search and rescue mission is around seven days. While this was, in a way, correct, it would only reach that many days if there was enough proof that the missing person was alive.

Standard operating procedure only allows a max of fifty-one hours.

You've been searching for nine days, fifteen hours, and twenty-seven minutes.

We don't have the resources right now, there's been too many casualties.

Alone.

There’re too many places to look through. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put the thought in your head-

Through every single cooling duct leading into the Hex Gate.

-the fuse assembly could've survived by other means.

"I have to try, Cait." You say as you put on your pack, loaded with first aid supplies and recovery equipment. Caitlyn moves to grab your arm. Her grip firm, but she's not holding you in any way that could actually prevent you from leaving. You still stop and wait for her to finish what she wants to say.

"It's been over a week. You've barely slept the entire time, and I can't keep changing the subject when Vi asks me where you've gone." She tugs at your arm lightly, willing you to sit down on a nearby chair.

It had been ten days since the end of the battle. Ten days since Piltover and Zaun almost met their demise. Ten days since so many lives were lost; all for power.

Vi was -is- a mess. She could barely pull herself up from the ledge you fished her out of back at the top of the tower. Dread had already begun to creep its way across your body as you made your way up to where Jinx and Ekko's balloon had crashed. The feeling only got worse as you climbed higher, seeing no signs of its three occupants. You started running faster up steps, climbing ladders with speed you never thought possible for you. For a moment the dread had ceded, your adrenaline taking over. But then there was the explosion. And then... And then eventually you heard Vi's cries.

Your body stiffens as you shut your eyes, willing the memory away. "You're gonna have to cover for me a bit longer, Cait." You say as you softly pry your arm free of her grasp. "With how loud that explosion was, there's no way the assembly could've just survived."

"If it was anyone else, maybe I would've stopped searching already. But you and I both know this isn't just anyone else, no matter which side you're on." Caitlyn looks at you for a few moments, you know well enough that she's already wavering in her previous attempt to dissuade you.

"You wouldn't have mentioned it at all if you didn't think-"

"I know, I know." She finally says. "I wouldn't have given you the schematics for the structure either."

She sighs, an all too familiar indicator that you've won. "Just... Don't push yourself too much. I know I'm the one that gave you hope that she survived, but at some point..." She trails off. You know she wants to say that she doesn't want you to have your hopes crushed, or to put yourself in unnecessary danger. Especially since the inner ducts have been unstable since the explosion.

"I promise, I'll be careful, Cait. You know me." You shrug and smile at her, hoping that the nonchalant display is enough to convince her that you aren't fatigued out of your mind.

The look on her face says she doesn't buy it. But she says nothing about her doubts, instead nodding your way. "Be careful, I'm holding you to that."

"I will."

"Fucking air vents." You curse as you drop your pack by the wall of the duct. The thump it makes echoing around the cavernous tunnel. You've been walking uphill to get back up to the entrance, but the strain from working non-stop for over a week, the sleep deprivation, and the mental exhaustion was bound to catch up. Maybe Cait was onto something with the whole resting thing.

You let out a huff at the thought. You didn't have time to rest, what if Jinx was somewhere hurt, with no one around- she'd find a way to pull herself out of here and escape-- or what if she was trapped somewhere -this is my second sweep of the vents and all the obstructed entrances have been cleared- You lean against the tunnel wall before slumping gingerly to the ground. Your ankle hadn't fully healed from the battle, and you still had bandages all over your midsection from injuries you sustained.

You take a few steadying breaths before pulling out a map of the vents, marking the sections you've done your sweep of. Your vision swims for a moment, and it's enough for you to shut the map and lean you head against the wall. You close your eyes and steady your breathing, willing yourself to hold it together.

You're no use to me dead. She would say right about now. I'm still alive and you still say I'm useless. You'd reply.

"Yeah, but I say it lovingly." She harks back from her chair, tinkering away at her robot bug thing that she and Isha were using for their little fight club. You turn from the pin board you were making- places in Zaun where new checkpoints had been placed. You drop the purple pen you were using-Isha had stolen the red marker you usually use-- to write and make your way over to Jinx.

"Lovingly?" You ask as you turn her chair around, a grin plastered on your face. She rolls her eyes, but her own smile betrays her attempt at brushing you off. "Don't think too hard about it, you might hurt yourself."

"Looks like you've been the one thinking about it." She scoffs at you, turning her chair back to face her work station. Though she doesn't turn fast enough for the pink dusting her cheeks to escape your notice. "I said don't think too much about it."

"Hey." You say softly, turning her chair around again and pulling up a chair for yourself so you were eye-level. She's pouting, so you know you're not in trouble. "I'm sorry for teasing." You take her left hand and place a kiss on her knuckles. She makes a face.

"Ew, don't kiss my hands, they're covered in grease."

"When are they not covered in grease?"

"Didn't you just apologize for teasing?"

"I'm sorry for teasing, again."

"You're lucky-" She clamps her mouth shut. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning again. The last thing you want is for her to close herself off. You know she's being careful. For someone known to be completely reckless at spontaneous times, she could be just as calculating and reserved. She's slipped a few times already, not explicitly saying I love you, but accidentally implying it or using some variation of the word during a casual conversation. You're no better, but so far, you've been able to avoid slipping.

Maybe you both thought it was too soon to say. Three or four months of you acknowledging that there was something between the two of you might be too soon, but there was a revolution going on, and revolutions are rarely peaceful and without casualties. Who knows what might happen in a few months, weeks, days, or hours. But you don't know what the next few weeks have in store for you.

"I know I'm lucky." You say. Hoping that the implication of, I know I'm lucky you love me, is enough.

But it wasn't, and now I'm here.

You jolt forward, blinking a few times to clear your blurry vision. Had you dozed off? For how long?

You sigh and rub your face with your hands. You do need rest, just for a little bit, then you'd get back to searching for her. You're no use to her dead, after all.

The walk back to your apartment is agonizing. The second you decided that it was time to take a break, your whole body decided that it was the best time for you to feel your exhaustion in its entirety. Your pack was suddenly heavier, your ankle decided to start swelling, and the wound on your side thought it was the perfect time to start bleeding again. Despite your body's attempt to suddenly render you immobile, you're able to meander back to your door after a horrible confrontation with five flights of stairs. Damn that faulty elevator.

You decide that having a view from your balcony isn't really all that worth it as you jam your keys into the lock and make your way inside. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you pass through the door. The lock never clicked open.

You draw your pistol quietly, and scan the open living room and kitchen area of your home. Deeming the areas clear, you start making your way towards the hallway leading to your bedroom, pistol aimed and ready. Who on the Runeterra's green earth would be targeting you? Leftover Noxians? No. Turn coats like Maddie? Unlikely. Someone from the Undercity with a grudge? Unless they figured out who I am, I doubt it.

You hear a creaking sound from a door to your left, and you quickly kick it open and aim your pistol at the intruder.

"Jeez, you'd think a girl would get a warmer welcome after coming back from the dead." The intruder says, leaning back on a chair and idly scanning a vinyl.

You stare, dumbfounded. A part of you fully believing you've started hallucinating from the exhaustion, or the blood loss, you're not sure anymore. Your intruder, however, seemed to find your predicament funny.

"What, got nothing to say to me?" She asks. She finally turns to look at you, but the grin she puts on quickly falters when she notices the blood from your reopened wound seeping through your uniform. And then she's in front of you, one hand cupping the side of your face, the other hovering just above spots of blood on your shirt.

She asks if you're okay, but you're not sure. You still haven't confirmed whether on not you're hallucinating. So you do the only logical thing in the world and wrap your arms around her.

"Jinx?" Your voice cracks as you utter her name, and you wait. Wait for her to disappear, for your tired mind to catch up and be able to distinguish what is real and what isn't, because a part of you was only ever really using the tunnel search as a coping mechanism and that-

"I'm here, it's okay." She says as she wraps her arms around you and returns your embrace. If it were any other day, it would be you comforting her, offering her words of reassurance, support, affirmation. But this isn't any other day. Because you thought for the last ten days, twenty-three hours, and eight minutes, that she had died in an explosion.

But she didn't, and now you're sure that she's alive, that she's here, and alive, and breathing and-

"I love you." The words spill out of your mouth before you can think of anything else. How could you think of anything else? When those words, you realize now, have been long overdue.

She laughs. You realize how much you've missed hearing her laugh once your tears start falling. "I'm sorry." You say. "I thought, you died."

You stop yourself from hissing as her hug tightens and pain shoots up from your side. You could stomach the discomfort for this. You wouldn't let her go for anything, not again. "I'm sorry I took so long, bubs."-Your heart soars at the nickname- "There were a few... loose ends I had to take care of before coming to find you." She wipes away your tears as she says this, her hands carefully brushing your hair out of your face.

"It's okay, nothing else matters now." Just you you wanted to add, but refrain from speaking any further. You pull away just far enough to look at her, still not letting her go. It's her, alright. Her hair is different, and she doesn't have her pants that that one enforcer described as a half-eaten circus tent, but it's her.

"You're not upset?" She has the audacity to ask.

"I spent the last week and a half thinking you were dead, upset is the last thing I'm feeling.” A pause. “Wait no, actually, I spent nine days wandering around the cooling vents to look for greasy ass hand prints on walls."

"Hey."

"And I couldn't find any so you must've washed your hands for once-"

"Okay, smart ass, I get it." She says, rolling her eyes before pulling you in for a kiss. Suddenly all the exhaustion and pain you're feeling is gone, and your mind blanks. The only thought running through your head is Jinx and I missed you, and I love you, I love you, I love you as you pull her closer to you.

"Easy, tiger." She puts a hand on your chest to stop you from chasing after her when she pulls away. You let out a huff. She laughs. "You're bleeding, I need to take a look at that first."

"Since when has me being injured ever stopped you?"

She grins at you. "Being away from me that long has you down bad, huh?" You grumble something about her being unappreciative, and she responds by pulling your face down and placing a kiss on your nose.

"You're lucky I love you."

#arcane x reader #jinx x reader #arcane jinx #arcane netflix #arcane #I'm not delusional #this show is purposeful and there are no coincidences

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parkerslatte · 11 months ago

Text

Incompatible | Part Two

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Archeron!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: none.

Summary: Y/N receives word from the Inner Circle that she is to spend a few months in the Autumn Court. Azriel helps her pack and brings her to the High Lord of Autumn.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

Part One | Part Two |

•••

Three days later, Y/N sat in the River House, peacefully enjoying her afternoon. The past three days had given Y/N a sense of peace. Her family and Inner Circle did not crowd her as much as they used to, mostly leaving Y/N alone to her own devices. The only member who graced her presence was Nyx and Y/N couldn’t be happier. The small child napped beside her as she flipped the page of her book, her mind only half paying attention to it.

The past seventy two hours had been strange for Y/N, she would constantly find her mind drifting to a certain High Lord. His copper hair, his amber eyes, his impeccable clothing. Everything about him caught Y/N’s eye the moment he saw him. But most of all it was his personality. The way his demeanour changed the moment they were alone. The genuine care and concern he had for her made Y/N smile into her book. No matter how the Inner Circle said that Eris was only being kind for his own gain, Y/N knew that his affections were truthful, she felt it.

Three days. He said that in three days time he would find a way to get her out of the house but nothing had happened yet. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking on Y/N’s part. She was only human and Eris was the High Lord of Autumn. Realistically she wouldn’t blame him if he were only playing into her fantasy. But there was still that small glimmer of hope– knowing– that he would show up.

As Y/N turned the page of her book, the peaceful atmosphere in the room immediately disappeared as Rhys entered the room followed by everyone else. Nyx immediately woke up crying. Rhys and Feyre rushed to his side uttering soft apologies.

“I can take him to his room,” Azriel offered.

Rhys nodded and allowed Azriel to pick him up. His shadows swarmed around the small boy in a comforting manner. Azriel swiftly left the room before closing the door behind him.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked, eyes darting around the room.

“A letter came through today from Eris,” Rhys said.

Y/N perked up. “What did it say?”

“I cannot go into detail but it demands that you spend a few months in the Autumn Court,” Rhys explained.

“Really?” Y/N got to her feet, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice.

Feyre nodded. “But we came to ask if you really wanted to go.”

Y/N frowned. “Why?”

“While Beron was High Lord, the Autumn Court was not a safe space for most, everything the upper class fae did was for power. It has not been too long since Eris killed his father and took over so I do not know how much it has changed,” Rhys explained.

“But ultimately it is your choice whether you wish to go,” Cassian piped up.

Y/N frowned. “Why does it sound like you are all trying to scare me away from going?”

“We’re not doing that,” Rhys said. “We are just warning you about what you may encounter. Life was difficult for fae living in the Autumn Court, for a human, it may prove to be more dangerous.”

“I’m sure that if I were in any danger, Eris would help me,” Y/N said. “And even if he wasn’t there to help me, I am sure I would be able to help myself. Despite what most of you may think, I can handle myself. I did any and all jobs on my farm for six years until you all took me from it.”

No one responded.

“I am going to the Autumn Court,” Y/N said her tone was final. “When do I leave?”

“Azriel will take you after you have packed a bag,” Feyre said.

Y/N nodded. “I will go and pack my things.”

Before anyone had the chance to respond, Y/N left the room. As soon as the door closed, chatter resumed in the room in hushed whispers. Y/N rolled her eyes before walking down the hall to her room.

“So you decided to go,” Azriel said, appearing from the shadows.

“Yes,” Y/N replied without looking at him.

“And there’s nothing I can do to convince you not to go?” Azriel asked.

“No,” Y/N said, opening the door to her room.

Azriel huffed out a laugh. “I wasn’t going to convince you to stay.”

Y/N finally looked at him. “You might be the only one. Everyone was trying to scare me into not going.”

“I know that you are going to shoot me down immediately but just listen to what I am going to say,” Azriel said.

Y/N sighed. “Go on.”

“They are just trying to protect you,” Azriel said and Y/N groaned. “I know that our methods have been stupid.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Y/N mumbled, sitting down on her bed.

“But,” Azriel emphasised, “it was only done to make sure nothing happens to you. Everyone here loves you, Y/N. We just want what’s best for you and if that includes going to the Autumn Court, I will accept it.”

Y/N eyes him carefully. “What is up with you being accepting of this? The last time I checked you hated Eris.”

Azriel chuckled and sat down on the bed next to Y/N. “I don’t hate him. I don’t think I can after all of his explanations for any previous actions after he became High Lord. I only dislike him.”

“Aww,” Y/N teased. “You’re making new friends.”

Azriel glared at her. “He is not my friend but I…trust him more than I did a few years ago.”

“Why?” Y/N asked.

“Since becoming High Lord, Rhys made me send my spies to see how Eris was acting at High Lord. He wanted to know if he would simply double cross us after we helped him kill his father. It is not my place to tell you what I found out but the way he acted was different to how I ever saw him,” Azriel explained.

“How long were you spying on him for?” Y/N asked.

“Not long,” Azriel answered. “A few weeks at most but in those few weeks I noticed him dismissing many members of his court, all of which lived and enforced Beron’s rule. I only spied on him once more after that.”

“When was that?”

“Three days ago, after he left our meeting,” Azriel said. “He took a liking to you and I just wanted to know if it was genuine or not. Rhys didn’t ask me to do it so don’t mention it to him.”

Y/N felt her heart beat faster. “And was it genuine?”

Azriel offered her a tight smile. “It was genuine.”

A smile bloomed across Y/N’s face. “Really?”

Azriel nodded and looked away from Y/N to the bag sat by her bed.

“Why did you want to know if it was genuine?” Y/N asked.

Azriel shrugged. “You’re my friend, if something was amiss with his affections, I didn’t want him to lead you on.”

Y/N smiled. “Thank you, Az. Honestly, since I’ve been here you have been the only one keeping me sane.”

Azriel smiled though it seemed forced. “No problem.”

Y/N looked away from Azriel and to her bag. “Will you help me pack? I think it would be more fun with a friend here.”

This time when Azriel smiled, it was genuine and he stood to his feet. “Of course.”

It didn’t take long until Y/N’s things were packed into her bag. She didn’t have too many things since her things were spread out across the places she spent time in. The last thing she packed was a small sketch Feyre did of her when the two were eighteen and thirteen. Y/N smiled at it before she closed her bag.

“I’m ready to go now,” Y/N said, turning to Azriel.

“Do you want to say goodbye to everyone?” Azriel asked.

Y/N sighed. “I suppose I should. Shouldn’t I?”

“Even if you don’t want to say goodbye to Rhys, at least say goodbye to Feyre and Nesta,” Azriel suggested.

Y/N sighed before agreeing. She picked up her bag and together she and Azriel walked through the house.

“I’ll miss you,” Azriel said.

Y/N looked at him, surprised. “Wow, I’m surprised that the big bad shadowsinger can admit he will miss me.”

Azriel laughed. “Ease up on the alliteration.”

Y/N chuckled along with him before Azriel cleared his throat. “I am being serious though. I will miss you. With everyone spending time with their own families recently, I’ve been spending a lot of my time with you and you have become a good friend, one of the best actually.”

Y/N stopped in her tracks and turned to Azriel. “Thank you, Az. That means a lot to me. These past few years have been a lot and you have helped keep me from throwing myself down ten thousand steps.”

Azriel smiled, looking away. “I can hear everyone in the foyer.”

Y/N gave his bicep a small squeeze before the two continued to walk. As they entered the foyer, all eyes fell upon Y/N.

“You packed quickly,” Rhys said.

“Azriel helped,” Y/N answered. “I have just come to say goodbye.”

One by one, Y/N bid everyone a goodbye, spending more time with her sisters, before moving to stand next to Azriel. “I will see you all in a few months.”

Feyre smiled at her and gave her a small wave. “Make sure to write to us. Nyx will be confused about where you have gone.”

Y/N nodded and turned to Azriel. “Let’s go.”

Azriel held out his hand and Y/N took it. Shadows surrounded them and Y/N was encased in darkness.

***

The moment the shadows vanished they revealed the beautiful scenery of the Autumn Court and Y/N couldn’t help but let out a gasp. The sun streamed through the trees and cast shadows upon the cobblestone path leading to a small village in the distance.

“This is the Autumn Court?” Y/N asked Azriel.

“Yes,” Azriel answered. “I will admit it looks more…welcoming.”

“Of course it does,” a new voice spoke up. A voice that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine.

Y/N turned to the source of the voice and smiled. Eris stood in the centre of the path. He was dressed a lot more casually since the last time she had seen him. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, displaying his forearms to the world. He looked even more beautiful than he did when she had seen him three days ago.

“I have taken up…replacing any negative voices in my court that want to still abide by my fathers rules,” Eris explained. “My court is no longer the place you remember, shadowsinger.”

Y/N dropped Azriel’s hand upon seeing Eris, missing the way Azriel’s face dropped.

“Eris,” Y/N said, stepping forward. “I must say you look dashing.”

A smirk fell upon Eris’s face. “My dear, you are already starting with flirtations. I was not expecting this so quickly.”

Y/N smiled bright. “I’m full of surprises.”

Eris took one more step forward, his gaze never leaving Y/N’s for a moment. “I bet you are.”

Azriel cleared his throat, interrupting Y/N and Eris. Eris looked at Azriel, a hint of annoyance on his face. “I didn’t realise you were still here, shadowsinger.”

“I want to say goodbye to my friend before you whisk her away,” Azriel said, his voice holding none of the warmth she had gotten used to over the many months of his company.

Y/N turned to Azriel and smiled. “Believe it or not but I will miss you too, Azriel.”

Azriel’s smile was small as Y/N took a step towards him. She leaned up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’ll be okay, Az.”

Azriel circled his arms around her waist. “I know, I just want you to–”

“I swear if you say be safe,” Y/N warned.

“–have fun,” Azriel finished.

Y/N pulled away from the hug. “That response was better than I thought.”

Azriel dipped his head. “I will see you soon, Y/N.”

Y/N took a step back from him, unconsciously stepping closer to Eris. “See you soon, Az.”

Eris smiled at Y/N before he turned his gaze to Azriel. “You are free to return to your court, shadowsinger.”

With a final parting goodbye, Azriel disappeared into his shadows and he was gone.

The moment he was gone, Y/N immediately felt relief. A large weight lifted off her shoulders that she did not realise was there. For the first time in years, Y/N did not feel the prying eyes from the Inner Circle upon her. For the first time in years she felt free.

“Are you okay?” Eris asked, the wind lightly blowing the copper waves out of place.

Y/N smiled brightly at him. “I think I have never felt this good in a while.”

Eris smiled back at her and offered her his arm. “Well, let us drop your things off at the cottage and I shall show you around my court.”

Y/N linked her arm with his. “I would like that very much.”

Eris picked up Y/N’s bag and carried it in his other hand. “It is about an hour walk away, if you wish me to winnow us there it is no problem.”

“No, I wish to walk,” Y/N said. “The beauty of this court is incredible.”

“Not as beautiful as the woman standing in front of me,” Eris said, a cheeky grin on his face.

Y/N laughed. “Well, has the handsome man on my arm looked in a mirror? Because his beauty outshines everything around him.”

If it were even possible, a faint blush dusted across Eris’s cheeks. “You flatter me, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled. “It’s not flattery if it's true.”

Eris looked at her and smiled. “That’s true.”

Y/N laughed but that laugh slowly faded away. “I’m sorry for calling you a man. I know that is not what you are. A ‘male’ is the correct word, isn’t it?”

The smile faded from Eris’s face. “Y/N you can call me whatever you wish. I am a male, that is true but I am a man in your eyes, just as you call yourself a woman, not a female. You are not fae, I’m not going to force you to use the way the fae speak around me.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked. “After all, I am in the land of the fae, I don’t wish to be disrespectful.”

“Y/N, believe me when I tell you that you are in no way being disrespectful,” Eris replied.

Y/N smiled at him and they continued to walk down the cobblestone path.

***

“I hope you don’t mind the dust on the surfaces,” Ers said as he unlocked the door to the cottage. “I changed the bedding and cleaned the best I could. Alas, duties kept me away from making this a perfect welcome for you.”

“It is already perfect, Eris,” Y/N said, looking at the cottage before her. It was beyond beautiful with flowers growing up the trellis and falling over the doorway.

The door unlocked and Eris picked Y/N’s bag back up and gestured her to step inside. As Y/N did, her eyes lit up.

“It reminds me of the cottage on my farm,” Y/N said quietly.

“We have similar decor taste’s then,” Eris said, closing the door.

As Y/N looked at Eris and his relaxed form she found herself drifting closer to him. She wanted to touch him, she needed to feel his skin on hers. Despite these feelings, Y/N restrained herself and stepped further into the cottage. Everything was slightly dated and a little mismatched but it was perfect to Y/N. Her own cottage was the same way.

“I used to come here to escape my father,” Eris said. “Everything in here consists of things I have collected over the many years I have been alive.”

“And how long is that?” Y/N questioned.

Eris placed his hand on his chest in mock offence. “Y/N, are you asking me my age?”

“Yes,” Y/N said. “Honestly I am a little confused by how the fae age. Are you immortal or do you just age very slowly?”

“Technically we are immortal and age slowly but the ageing process sometimes depends on the fae themselves. I have known others my age who look hundreds of years older, to put it in your case, decades older,” Eris explained. “I myself am five-hundred and thirty three.”

“You don’t look a day over five hundred and thirty two,” Y/N teased. “Since I so unkindly asked your age, I myself am twenty-eight, twenty-nine next month.”

“Well that is an excuse for a small celebration,” Eris said.

“There is no need,” Y/N said. “I haven’t celebrated my birthday in many years.”

Eris hummed. “Well I suppose just this once, Y/N, that I will go against what you say because since you are in my cout, I will make sure you get the best damn celebration I can plan on such short notice.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “There isn’t a chance you will simply forget about it?”

That smirk that Y/N had begun to love was plastered on his face. “Not a chance.”

“Then make sure it is the best damn celebration you have to offer,” Y/N said.

“I plan on just that,” Eris said.

Over the course of their conversation, Y/N had failed to realise how they had slowly inched closer together. If either she or Eris took only one step forward, their chests would be touching. She could feel the warmth radiating from him and she basked in it. If only he would wrap his arms around her body and pull her close–

Y/N stopped the thoughts swarming through her head. She had never felt this deeply for someone before and she didn’t understand why she was beginning to now. Y/N cleared her throat and took a reluctant step back.

“If I am going to be here for a few months, I should start by unpacking my things,” Y/N said, picking up her bag.

Eris seemed to snap out of a daze as he slowly followed Y/N’s movements with his eyes. “Do you wish for any help?”

“I’ll be okay,” Y/N said. “Though is there anything you don’t want me to move or touch? It is your cottage after all.”

“No, do whatever you wish. I am rarely here these days,” Eris said, looking at his beloved cottage. “Though I regret to say that I must return to the Forest House, I still have duties to attend to for the following days. I have left food in the cupboards for you, I will return with more tomorrow.”

“When will you be back?” Y/N questioned. “I only ask because I want to explore a little more and I doubt it is not safe for me to be wandering around without an escort.”

“There are a few things that need my attention for the following days but after that I am all yours for the next few months. All my paperwork will be split between my trusted court officials,” Eris explained. “There are wards surrounding the property up until the wicker fence, so you can go outside if you wish to. I won’t confine you inside for the next couple of days.”

Y/N nodded. “Thank you, Eris. Not just for allowing me my freedom, but for making sure I feel welcome and not like a caged animal.”

“There is no need to thank me,” Eris said. “I hope you enjoy it here.”

“I already am.”

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