#you've got your own shield

[bookdragonquotes]

[entitled-fangirl]

Tradition.

Cregan Stark x Pregnant!reader

Summary: the reader and Cregan go to King's Landing to support her nephew, Luke's, Velaryon claim. She goes into early labor away from the North.

Warnings: Aegon is his own warning, body shaming, talks of brothels and stuff, labor, blood, death, fighting, all that stuff.

A/n: Based on an ask! I'll proofread later 😭

Masterlist

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Cregan held out his hand to help his very pregnant wife out of the carriage. 

He absolutely hated riding by carriage. It seemed pointless when you could ride a horse instead. But when summoned to King's Landing by King Viserys with his Targaryen wife to join the rest of her family, he had to guarantee her safety on the travel by any means necessary.

Alicent's face lit up at the sight of her daughter, practically running over Cregan to get to her. She embraced the pregnant woman tightly, "Oh, my love! How you've changed!" 

Y/n hugged her mother back just as firmly with a smile, "I've missed you, mother."

Alicent pulled away and admired her grown girl, "King's Landing is better with you here." Only then did Alicent notice Cregan, "Oh. Lord Stark."

Cregan bowed his head politely, "My queen."

"Cregan has been eager to see King's Landing again," Y/n chirped in, "He has only been a few times."

Alicent's brows lifted, "Really? I wouldn't have thought that."

He nodded, "I could've been patient enough to wait until after the birth, but alas, when the King calls, you answer."

Alicent gave a forced smile, "Right. Of course. The birth." She looked to her daughter, "How far along are you, my dear?"

"Nearing eight moons now," she said nervously with a hand on her swollen stomach.

Alicent didn't miss the equally nervous and protective look in Cregan's eyes.

…

Dinner that night was beyond tense. 

What was joy for Viserys was misery for everyone else.

Watching the king decay at the table and the rest of them squabble over trivial matters that seemed of great importance.

"A toast to the young princes and their betrothed."

Aegon leaned over to his nephew Jace, "Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman."

A glare was sent his way by Jace and Baela.

Y/n caught on and quickly looked to Aemond, who sipped his wine with no reaction.

"You do know how the act is done, I assume?" Aegon continued. "At least, in principle. Where to put your cock and all that?"

Jace's jaw clenched, "You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed."

"Aegon." Y/n hissed through her teeth across the table.

His head immediately snapped to his sister in annoyance, "What?"

"Let it alone."

He scoffed lightly, "What do you mean? I'm only asking." He gained a grin, "It's not like I have to ask Lord Stark that. Look at the state of you!" He gestured to her swollen belly.

Cregan's grip on his fork tightened, turning his knuckles white. 

She placed a hand over her stomach and grimaced, "At least I was able to find a husband that wanted me. Mother had to force you to marry the only girl around, and that was Helaena."

Aegon gave an incredible glare, one that his sibling shot back.

Aemond became amused.

"Let us not fight at the table," Alicent reprimanded lightly.

Y/n looked to Jace, who gave a small nod of gratitude.

Silence filled the room until the King's long monologue of the need for peace in the house. 

Rhaenyra and Alicent gave small and seemingly back-handed toasts but Y/n was too set on the continuous mischievous look in her brother's eye.

And she called it right when he stood and moved to whisper in Baela's ear.

It was clear that it was muttered with the intention of riling up Jace, which it did quite well.

He stood up in anger, slamming his fist on the table.

Cregan, who had remained entirely silent thus far, instinctually moved a hand across his wife as if shielding her and the child.

The tense toasts only got worse from there.

Luckily, the music seemed to drown out the intensity, as well as Jace's good gesture of faith in dancing with Helaena. 

Y/n leaned over to Aemond, "Brother."

His brow raised as his eye traveled to look at her.

"It has been… long since I've seen you. I see you've faired quite well."

He hummed lightly, "I see you've… managed."

She could feel Cregan's intense gaze from behind her, "Wh…what do you mean?"

Aemond smirked and leaned in to where only the two Starks could hear him, "Inpregnanted by a brute-"

Cregan's jaw clenched so hard he feared for his teeth. His voice was a hushed whisper, but still held furiously to it, "Watch your words."

Y/n held Cregan's shoulder, "Let us not do this here."

Aemond smirked with Cregan sighed and leaned back in his chair.

When Viserys was escorted from the room due to his pain, Y/n decided to leave as well, and Cregan behind her.

They claimed a pregnancy illness and Rhaenyra smirked, knowing she'd used the same card many times.

…

Cregan helped her into bed, "I don't understand their need to crawl under everyone's skin like beetles."

She sighed, "They've never known life outside of a castle, Cregan. They've never been told no, and they never will. It's best to let it go."

"They mock us both. My name has been through dirt, blood, and tears, and I do not care, but yours?" He scoffed, "I will not stand by the next time you are mocked."

"It is only for a little while longer," she rebutted.

"Know that I do this for you, and only you, my love."

She smiled, "That's all I ask."

…

"The north has done a number on you, really," Aegon said as he appeared at her side.

She tilted her head, "I don't know what you mean."

He shrugged, "You're…" he then gestured his arms widely. "I dunno… well indulged?"

She pushed down the tears that welled up in her eyes, "Why do you care?"

He scoffed and leaned in towards her, "You know how many friends of mine asked for whores that looked like you? Many."

"And?"

"And?" He asked mockingly. "And? Who wants to fuck a whore that looks like you now?"

Her jaw went slack for a moment, completely shocked by his words. 

Finally, with now watery eyes, she spoke. "You're the worst kind of man, Aegon."

"Oh? And what kind is that?"

A sudden punch came from nowhere, landing on Aegon's jaw and sending him to the ground. 

Cregan stood over the man's body, a predatory look in his eyes and a murderous tone in his voice, "One that can't defend his fucking words."

Y/n pulled Cregan back, "Stop!"

He wanted to fight against her, but he knew better. His shoulders rolled back and he stood tall. 

She cursed under her breath as she took in exactly what had unfolded, "They could have your head for this, Cregan."

"Only if your brother wishes to defend his words against me again," Cregan scoffs as he looks down at the man.

Aegon sits up and huffs, wiping his nose that begins to leak blood. "Northern brute-"

"-Aegon!" She reprimands. 

Cregan glared at Aegon for a while, then scoffed and walked off a few steps to calm himself.

Aegon stands on shaky legs as he glares at his sister, "I liked you better when you lacked a guard dog."

Cregan immediately turned back to the man with a look that said he was ready to murder him. As he stepped forward, Aegon stepped back as he began to regret his words.

"Take me to our chambers, Cregan," she lightly pleaded. 

The wolf of the north only stared for a while before nodding, "Lead the way."

She sighed as she gave a final look to her brother. "Clean yourself up. You look like shit."

…

Standing behind Rhaenyra, Y/n and Cregan whispered idly to Daemon when someone would comment something out of hand. 

Luke's legitimacy was coming into question, and though the Starks knew the truth, they would not dare pry the inheritance from the boy's hands. That was not their place. So next to Daemon they stood as petitions were made to and against him.

Daemon leaned in to speak to Y/n, "how far along did you say you were?"

"Eight moons now," she whispered back.

Daemon let out a surprised grunt. "You're to have the child here then? That seems unlike you."

"Uncle, my father insisted I come, and I have. Whether the child is born in the North or the South, it is a Targaryen and Stark all the same."

He smiled lightly, "I suppose you're right. If you wish for someone to accompany Lord Stark to the dragon pit to choose a proper egg for the child, only say the word."

Cregan, who had been listening quietly, now leaned in, "I am to choose an egg?"

"It is tradition," she explained. "It can be before, during, or after the birth, but the father chooses the egg. If… If you would wish to continue that tradition."

He grinned, "I'd be delighted to try."

When Vaemond Valaryon stepped up forward to speak his mind, the Starks quieted. 

He spoke in anger, trying to take Luke's right. 

Y/n looked past him to her mother and siblings. 

Aegon looked like he'd rather be doing anything else. He didn't care the outcome of this ordeal. Aemond watched intensely with his one eye, taking in every detail. And Helaena… sweet Helaena. 

She needed to visit her and the children soon.

"And her children are…" Vaemond paused.

The room stilled.

"Say it," Daemon whispered under his breath.

"Her children are BASTARDS!" He screamed.

Y/n jumped back in surprise as Cregan's steady hands caught her waist.

"And she. Is. a. Whore." Vaemond finished.

The air in the room stilled and became stuffy as the tension reached an all time high.

Viserys stood on unstable legs as he unsheathed his dagger, "I will have… your tongue for this."

A sudden slice moved through the air, and half of Vaemond's head was gone.

Blood splattered across the ones' nearest, meaning the Starks. Cregan let out an annoyed grunt.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon said proudly as he lowered his sword.

Y/n rested a hand over her swollen stomach with a shaky hand, trying to ignore the blood that began to seep into her clothes. 

Cregan leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Are you alright?"

"I… I want to go," she shuddered back.

He nodded, looking around as the crowd began to whisper amongst themselves. He held a hand firmly against her back as she became to let out an uncomfortable whine.

"Cregan, please," she whispered.

"Alright. Alright, let's go, my love," he said as he tried to move her through the crowd.

But her legs faltered as she let out a pained noise.

He caught her in panic, "Are you in pain?"

"The babe…"

No longer caring for proper manners, Cregan stood tall and looked over the crowd. "MOVE!" He yelled out.

The people quieted and moved as Cregan helped his wife through the room and out of the doors.

Alicent only saw a brief glimpse of her daughter's silver hair go through the doors, and she was on edge. She ran through the crowd to follow behind them.

He held onto his wife's arm with one hand and held her waist with the other, trying to support her as they moved to their chambers.

Y/n let out a gasp, and her water broke.

Alicent caught up to them and grabbed her daughter's other arm. "It's alright. You're alright." She turned to a servant and ordered him to get the maester. 

Sweat began to break out of the poor woman's forehead as the weight of what is happening began to settle. 

Once on her bed, Cregan refused to move from her side, Alicent as well. Alicent rubbed soothingly across her daughter's forehead as Cregan paced at the foot of the bed.

The maester and midwives came quickly, immediately moving to the woman in labor.

"My lord, it is best if you remain outside," one of them said.

Cregan's brows furrowed in confusion. "Out… Outside?"

Alicent chipped in, "It is tradition. The husband waits outside of the doors."

He stared at Y/n in thought. Tradition. How that word weighed on them like boulders. 

"Alright."

…

He tried to ignore the sounds of her cries as he stood in the corridor. 

Nothing could ease his worries. 

In the North, it was not uncommon to be by their wife's side. 

This was unusual to him.

"My lord," a midwife questioned as she poked her head from the room.

His eyes widened, "Is she alright?"

"The child is… having trouble, my lord."

That was Cregan's greatest fear. The maester in Winterfell had spent endless hours with Cregan to determine a plan for if such a thing were to occur. Now he was without a plan entirely.

"Alright?" He finally breathed.

"What do you wish for us to do?"

"What options do I have?" He spoke barely above a whisper.

The midwife gave him an empathetic look. "We can cut the child out-"

"-No." He was quick with his answer, the very thought of taking a blade to her seeming the greatest sin he could commit.

"Um… it will be painful, but we can help her force the child out."

"Is that safe for her?"

The midwife shrugged lightly, "More than any other option I can give you."

He nodded.

She gave a weak smile and moved back into the room, but Cregan caught the door before it closed and forced his way in.

At the sight of his wife, he felt as if a blade went into his own stomach.

She was crying in pain, the midwives forcing her hips down as she tried to move away from the pain, as if that was possible.

At the sight of him, her entire face relaxed, "Cregan…"

He moved to her side, "I'm here. How can I help?"

Alicent glared slightly at him. 

"They won't… I can't…" Y/n whimpered out.

"They won't what?" He looked up to Alicent, "What are they doing?"

"She wishes to get up. We cannot have her standing," she explained.

Cregan was thrown off by that. "She cannot? W… Why ever not?" When in labor with him, Cregan's mother was said to have walked the length of Winterfell 3x over. 

"It hurts… please, Cregan…" 

He nodded as his expression hardened. "Let her stand."

The maester shook his head, "She is nearing the labor. She should not-"

"-She wishes to stand. She will stand."

Alicent spoke up. "Lord Stark-"

"-This is my wife and child. If she wishes to walk, then she will," he barked. 

A fire lit behind the queen's eyes. "She will not."

The midwives watched the tension grow.

Finally, Cregan calmly reached down and began to help his wife sit up.

Alicent cursed under her breath and grabbed Cregan's wrist in an effort to stop him.

Cregan's eyes slowly moved up to Alicent's face as anger began to overcome him. 

But she was first to speak. "You are no longer in the North. You abide by our traditions when you are here."

He'd heard enough of that word for a lifetime. 

His words came out sharper than he intended, but he cared little to soften them. "Your family is made of vipers and cutthroats. When I take my wife and child back to Winterfell, it will truly be a miracle if you ever see them again, for I will not let her sit and be neglected and tormented. I am a brute, but I am not without heart. Now, Let. Go."

Alicent reluctantly let go.

Cregan helped Y/n sit, and she immediately felt relief. "I want to walk," she panted.

He nodded, practically holding her up as she stood. "We will walk the corridor and return." His voice had no room for argument.

Once they paced the corridor a few times, she was returned to the bed, only to find that Alicent had left. Cregan only cared about it when he noticed the tinge of sadness that moved over his laboring wife.

But he was quick to fill the gap. As she moved back to the bed, Cregan sat behind her and held her against his chest, messaging anywhere that began to ache.

The labor came soon after that. Cregan held her close as she screamed in pain and gripped his wrists. She surely left bruises.

"The babe is crowning, princess," the midwife exclaimed. "Keep pushing."

The pain came in waves that made her see white. 

Cregan began to panic when the midwives gave one another a look. "What?"

"She is not pushing hard enough."

Y/n began to cry in frustration.

"She is pushing," Cregan sighed. "What else is there to do?"

One of them reached up and began to push on her stomach, prompting the princess to cry harder as the pain multiplied. 

"Allow me," Cregan shifted her in his hold and carefully placed his hands where the midwife had, slowly applying pressure to the same place.

As Y/n screamed and cried, Cregan placed assuring kisses against her neck and cheek and whispered calming words to her. "You're doing well."

If the pain had not been so bad, she may have blushed.

…

Cregan held the baby close to his chest as his wife slept.

"My lord," a servant finally entered and interrupted the silence. "The queen has requested to see the child."

An annoyed feeling washed over the man. Of course, she wished to. 

The servant took note of his changed demeanor, "I can take-"

"-No," he countered. "I will go myself. Should my wife awaken in my absence, give her anything she desires."

His heavy feet stormed from the room and he walked to the queen's chambers.

Alicent turned and shock overcame her. "Lord Stark. I did not expect you to-"

"-Neither did I."

The two stared at one another for a moment before Alicent's eyes wandered to the bundle in the large lord's arms. "Healthy?"

"The very picture."

She nodded, unsure of what to say next.

"A boy," Cregan stated.

"A boy?" Alicent whispered. Any thoughts of annoyance were past to her, and she walked to the lord and eagerly looked at the child.

The baby was indeed the picture of health. Bright purple eyes looked up at the two. Dark hair sat atop his head.

"He's quite northern," she stated.

"Indeed." Cregan was sure she meant it as an insult, but he could care less. The thought of such a gift as a northern boy filled him with pride. 

"Congratulations, Lord Stark."

He nodded. "Your daughter is fine as well."

Alicent moved away from Cregan and sat down. "That is a blessing. To all of us. She will be a perfect mother."

"Aye, she will."

The tension between the two was evident, but they wouldn't let it dull the excitement of the newest addition to the line.

"I should return to my wife."

"Please, do."

Cregan moved to the door.

"Lord Stark?" She asked.

"Yes?"

Alicent stared at him and then the babe. "Thank you. For caring for her. And now him. You are a better man than most."

Cregan sighed. It wasn't a compliment, but it was something. "Thank you, my queen. She will want for nothing until my dying breath."

"This is all I wished for her."

......................................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

[rafesproperty]

Rafe Cameron x Shy GF <3

Rafe Cameron x Reader + a little platonic Barry x Reader cuz I just love Barry

Soo Rafe is an ESTP, which is probably the most outgoing personality type and they get along with introverts pretty well. Rafe would so adore his shy girl who’s just so dependent on him for everything. Luckily he’s always got you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Topper and Kelce didn’t really understand why would Rafe date you out of all people. You were always quiet, never speaking up, never showing up to parties, and if you did you’d stay glued to your friends' sides and never really speak to anyone.

It baffled them, actually.

But neither Topper or Kelce actually knew Rafe. He didn’t need a wild fire on top of his own messy chaos of a life. He needed the calmness. He didn’t need a girl who’d party her night away and dance with everyone and leave him hangin’ alone. He needed someone who’d be glued to his side, tug at his sleeve and beg for him to stay there and shield her with his body.

He needed someone he could just keep on his lap when he did lines and talked to people, and you'd just stay there, like an obedient scared puppy, playing with his fingers.

He didn’t need a girl that would be outgoing, speak up for herself, independent, talkative with other people. He enjoyed speaking up for you, ordering your food, picking your deliveries up, giving you rides everywhere because you hated public transport, holding you close to him, knowing feeling that you physically desperately need him everywhere with you. Even if you wanted ice cream that was sold two blocks down the street you'd ask him if he'd join you. Call him selfish, but he loves to be the one you constantly need and hide behind. He is obsessed with it. Always ready to provide and protect his girl.

And it’s not like you were like that all the time. The second you two were alone in his car, house or just away from everyone else you were joking around, dancing with him, calling him mocking nicknames like dude, bro, dummy, or the more intimate ones like baby, Rafey, my sweet boy, you'd jokingly call him my husband, my man, my love (all of these worked him up and you knew it), you’d tease the fuck out of him, crawling into his lap like a desperate bitch, grinding on him because you needed him right now. Pulling him in to kiss him. And God, he loved it. To be the only one to see this side of yours.

You were so polite to everyone too, always saying please and thank you in the quietest voice with a blush on your cheeks, but he knew you could be a loud, moaning, dirty mess under him. He knew you could ride him through multiple orgasms with zero shame. Only he knew you rocked your hips desperately against his mouth and squeezed your legs around his head to keep him there. Only he knew you'd get down on your knees and do absolutely everything for him.

You've met Barry a few times whenever Rafe needed cocaine from him and couldn't wait, he'd just drag you along and tell you to stay in the car. But the wait eventually got long and you followed after him.

Barry immediately offered you drugs and Rafe almost broke his face... but this little incident aside you actually clicked with Barry immediately. He wouldn't even let you speak, he just talked away, spilling info and gossip about Rafe as if he wasn't just standing right there.

"Ah shit, and you like this j-crew lookin' ass?" You giggled. "Yeah, I do," you gave Rafe a smile. "A lot."

You and Barry became friends. Rafe wouldn't let you hang out with him alone but the three of you actually hung out a lot at Barrys. He quickly understood how shy you are and he maybe had a little soft spot for you too, keeping an eye on you in public whenever Rafe needed to take care of something quickly.

You were getting a drink with Rafe at the Country Club, Topper and Kelce were there too, when Barry pulled up on his bike and made his way over to the two of you, ignoring all the Kooks that gave him dirty looks.

"Country Cluuuuub princessssss," he yelled in his accent and made his way over to you, "what's good with you girl?" He chuckled as you two did a quick handshake you've taught him.

Rafe rolled his eyes and immediately threw his arm around your shoulders in a protective manner.

Topper and Kelce stared in awe. You, who barely spoke any words to them, were all of a sudden buddies with the drug dealer?

[willowser]

dynamight is clearly trying to go unnoticed in the grocery store, but you recognize him, anyway, despite the mask and low-pulled hat. knowing makes you feel even worse about approaching him—because you'd be too afraid to, otherwise—but you're not sure what else to do at this point.

you lean in close to him as he's standing in front of the produce, poking through the same bin.

"ooh, we need to get an onion, too, remember?"

he startles enough away from you that you can feel the foundation of your last ditch efforts crumbling. even beneath his hat, his light eyebrows pull down hard, gaze narrowing, and on the other end of such a fiery glare, you're reminded exactly why you've never wanted to meet him before: he's terrifying, handsome as he is.

"hah—"

you smile at him and hope it looks real, squishing into the space he's created even though your hands are shaking. "the guy by the juice followed me all around the store from the parking lot and i don't know what else to do." you widen your eyes, and you want to look, you do, but your facade is hanging on by a thread. "please help me."

dynamight swallows, and you hope his expression only seems so guarded because you're so close; enough to smell his subtle yet sharp cologne, to see the dark blonde wisps of his eyelashes. when he blinks, they brush against his mask, feather-light.

"okay," he nods once, and the gravel of his voice makes your stomach turn in some teenage way, that has your cheeks flaring.

(this is really not the time to be getting shy.)

he doesn't look towards the juice either, thankfully, and instead adjusts his stance, leaning into you in return, large and wide and formidable enough to nearly shield you from view. "an onion, huh? think we got one at home."

you can feel the warm press of his body against your own and it has you releasing a breath that had been trapped deep in your chest, has tears stinging behind your eyes. the sharp pain in your sternum lessens, and when you feel his hand come up to sit, carefully, against your lower back, dynamight murmurs,

"y'r alright,"

and you are.

[vampiresbloodx]

Arcane imagine.

Arcane characters react when you take a hit for them.

Characters included: Mel medarda, Caitlyn, vi, jinx, sevika.

Trigger warnings: fluff, angst, reader getting hurt, injuries, yearning, implied smut, gross m*n, harassment

Mel medarda;

It was a seemingly normal night for you both, you had decided to take Mel out for dinner, nothing too luxurious (in her own words) but you wanted nothing but the best for your Mel, she appreciated that, god, she never looked more beautiful when she's standing in the moonlight in her red dress she especially wore for you and only you

The night was going just as planned, it was perfect, there was much laughter and smiles that hurt both of your cheeks, as you held hands and walked together, occasionally sitting down and kissing one another, when of course, a drunk man happened to be near by, and he didn't like what he saw, the famous Mel medarda kissing someone that wasn't a man

He ended up becoming furious, stumbling over as he started shouting nonsense, Mel wasn't having it, she used her authority voice that turns stern to control the situation, she does this when she's nervous, and you can tell when she grips onto your hand tighter

When you see the man raising his hand in her direction, you immediately shield her and take the hit, your cheek stings as you even taste blood, that was Mel's last straw when she saw him hit her lover, you've never seen her this angry, it was a sight to see her cussing out the man and ruining him to pieces, he ended up walking off, leaving you alone as you felt a little ashamed, but you were happy that you had stopped him from hitting Mel, no one hits her

"why'd you do that?" Mel had asked, bending down on her knees as she takes your face in her hands, checking to make sure you're okay. "Why did you do that?" She keeps on asking, her eyes wide with fury and worry.

"Because I love you" was all you said.

She smiled, laughed, you laughed with her, she had tears in her eyes, though you wouldn't bring it up, you wiped some away with your thumb, as she kissed you hard

Caitlyn;

Caitlyn was out doing her duty when you were supposed to be at home, relaxing, waiting for her return, things have been getting rough fast, much to her liking as she had to deal with it all

She knew there was no going back once she went down this road, it had to be done, you had tried convincing her to stop and think, you know her grief has been eating at her, you've felt it, you know what it's like yourself

She tries to hide it, but you can see it

You try to be there for her in any way you can, whatever she needs, you'll give

While she was out one night, alone, you know she's capable of taking care of herself, you don't doubt that at all, the one time she didn't have her gun with her is when shit happens, you don't like guns, she knows this, so she tries not to carry them around you, unless absolute necessary

Then out of no where, she's attacked.

And she stumbles, for the first time in so long, she's nervous, scared, thinking about you

They came out of no where, taking her off guard as they had their masks on, it was dark out, she couldn't see much

Then you appear all of a sudden, like a knight in shining armor, she watches you in awe before she realizes what you are doing with the way you jumped at them, with fury on your face as you raised your fist, ready to protect her, she shouted your name, you looked, and you got hit

Caitlyn lost it

They were all done by the time you opened your eyes again, embarrassed, you couldn't look at Caitlyn in the eyes but she had picked you up in her arms, carrying you home, she was silent, thinking you were still out, you admired her, reaching out to caress her cheek, she smiled, looking down at you as that tells you enough

Vi;

You hadn't seen vi all day, you knew she'd come home eventually, you two had plans, a date she promised, but something didn't feel right

Vi doesn't fuck around when she makes a promise to meet with you, you know that, she knows that, others might not, but you do

When she doesn't answer your calls and texts, you get worried, eventually you went out of your apartment to go and track her down, you know a few places she'd always be at

When you find her in a tight situation, in a dark alleyway, just a few blocks away from home, as it looks like she was on the way back to you, you felt frustrated as you watched three big, tall guys who clearly had a bit to drink pick on her

Vi had fought the worst of the worst, you know that, but you weren't having it

She didn't let you join in on fighting, scared for you, she worries sick, that she might lose you, but she doubts you enough, you know it wasn't doubt though, she just cared

She cared so much

It was a surprise when she saw you running at full speed at one of the guys and taking a huge hit when he got a hand of you, shoving you off, vi was pissed

Anger was all she felt as she kicked all of their asses

She was muttering while checking in on you, she patched you up and took care of you, making sure you were okay, in her eyes, she couldn't help but admit that it was hot, and that made her fall in love harder with you

Jinx;

Jinx had always been the one to fight for herself

She wasn't used to others stepping in, unless it was for work

Like if silco had ordered them too go with her, that wouldn't make a difference

Jinx was always going to be doing everything herself, that was until you came into her life, when everything went shit when silco died, you were her light

And Isha

You two meant more to her than she could ever imagine

She began to look forward to tomorrow

The one time you, Isha, jinx all decided to go out for an adventure, she wanted to impress you with her new projects that she was working on, you always listened to her ramble and she liked it, not many people did aside from sevika, Isha and you

Though sevika just tolerated it

Everything was going perfect, when a group of idiots came out and she didn't even have all of her fancy weapons on her, the one time she doesn't, because she just wanted to have fun with her favorite people, she was actually enjoying herself, which why she got so angry when they attacked

She knows she's got plenty of enemies, that's nothing new, but what she doesn't like is when any of them go for Isha or you, you two shouldn't be involved in this, even though you and her are together together, you were more vulnerable now

She was amazed by you

What she didn't expect was to watch you stand in front of her and take a huge hit to the face just when she was handling the guys her way, that caught her off balance

She raged at them

Once she was done with them, she took your hands as she was filled with worry, her anxiety buzzing, her thoughts too loud, thinking the worst, Isha helped you stand up, she also looked concerned, wondering what had happened, why you got hurt

Jinx didn't waste anytime pressing a kiss to your lips as she took you home with Isha alongside her

Sevika;

Sevika just wanted to take you out on a nice date, as best as she could offer, she knows you'd appreciate it regardless, but she wanted to give you everything she could

You had made everything better for her the moment you stepped into her life, she wanted to do you good

The date was going perfectly, just the way she had planned, it wasn't often sevika was pleased with herself, but tonight you looked good enough to eat

Just when everything was going fine, someone had to ruin it

Someone who was upset with her

Sevika knew she made a name for herself, people knew her, they weren't always the nicest

Usually just wanted to try and fight her, to see if they'd beat her, they never do, it ends up written on all their faces

But of course, her first date with you got interrupted, and Sevika wasn't having it when this guy was trying so hard to get with you, she hated how uncomfortable you looked, he didn't even recognize her there the entire time as she stared him down with a cold glare, she made her presence known

He looked flabbergasted at the sight of sevika having a date with someone like you, you two were different, sure, she didn't care what others think, especially if they targeted you

You said you were used to it, guys coming up and flirting with you, making gross comments, she wasn't having it, she didn't care how used to it you were

"are you done here?" Sevika asked, taking a bite of a cherry as you watched, admiring her, she smirked at you.

The guy huffs, unimpressed, "the fuck are you doing here, bitch?" He slurred, leaning closer.

The moment you heard him call her a bitch, you immediately stood up, as the both of them got heated, fast, you know sevika doesn't back down from a fight for anyone, especially a sloppy motherfucker like him who runs his stupid mouth

You spotted him getting closer and raiding his hand at her, no, you weren't going to have tonight end up blood spilt, as hot as that'd be, you wanted your date to be perfect

Just before he could even punch your Sevika, you were able to get in between them fast, his hand hitting hard on your check as you fell against her front

She stared at you with wide eyes, and raged at the guy

She knew you didn't want her fighting anyone on your date, but that set her off

The pain stung as you knew it was gonna bruise, fuck, but you wanted to make sure it wasn't always her getting the first hit

He ended up on the floor, passed out fast

Sevika had you in her arms, kissing you rough, you tasted blood, it was everything, she never looked more beautiful as she stared at you with so much love

"I'm gonna treat you so good, baby."

Tonight was far from over

[just-aake]

Flustered Crushes

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: The Black Widow does not get flustered. So why is it that Natasha can’t seem to stop embarrassing herself in front of you?

Warnings: fluff

Words: 2795

At the edge of the bustling hangar bay, Natasha leans against the cold, metallic wall, her arms folded tightly, a faint frown etched across her brow as her sharp gaze observes the scene unfolding before her. 

Near the base of the Quinjet’s ramp, you are engaged in animated conversation with Carol Danvers, who happened to arrive at the compound for a quick visit precisely when you returned from your mission.  

You've been with the Avengers for a few months now, a former SHIELD agent seamlessly adjusting to the team dynamics. 

Over time, you've connected with everyone—including her. 

So, Natasha’s made an extra effort to help you feel welcome. 

Clint often teases her about her behavior, insisting her attentiveness borders on something more personal, something like a…crush. 

Natasha dismisses his comments each time with a roll of her eyes. 

She’s just being nice. 

After all, it's only natural to want a solid, dependable relationship with a new teammate, especially someone she'll be working closely with.

That’s the only reason why she came to greet you when you return from your mission.

At least, that’s what she tells herself as she stands there, alone, on the sidelines…not with you. 

Natasha watches Carol say something that makes you laugh, causing her faint frown to deepen.

The flash of amusement in your eyes as Carol grins back makes Natasha roll her eyes and look away, unable to take the sight anymore as a pang of irritation tightens in her chest.

She tries to shake it off, but it doesn’t disappear.

After all, it’s not like she got here an hour before your scheduled return and waited to see you…just to end up watching as the blonde space beauty swoop in, effortlessly captivating your attention.

Deciding she’s had enough, Natasha pushes herself off the wall, preparing to leave.

However, her abrupt movement catches others around her off guard, and she ends up bumping into a passing cart loaded with tools and equipment. 

A clattering sound echoes across the hangar as wrenches and bolts spill onto the floor. 

Natasha curses softly under her breath, a mix of pain and embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she drops to gather the scattered items, apologizing hastily to the technician she collided with before quickly exiting the area.

In her haste, she doesn’t notice your gaze, the subtle smile tugging at your lips as you follow her with amused eyes, tracking her every flustered move across the hangar bay, even as she slips away without a backward glance.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“So, how’s it going with your crush?” Clint asks, a playful glint in his eyes as he watches Natasha.

Natasha shoots him a warning look that would strike fear into the most fearsome of villains.

Without a word, she grabs the coffee pot, filling his mug before pouring some for herself. She replaces the pot with a decisive click.

“There is no crush,” she states firmly, taking a sip as though punctuating her denial.

“Are you sure about that?” Clint asks skeptically before continuing, “Whenever Y/n’s around, it’s like you lose all of your charm and coolness.” 

Natasha gives him an unimpressed glare. 

“Really? Coolness? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Clint smirks, raising his mug in mock salute.

“Ask me again after I finish this coffee.”

She rolls her eyes, holding her mug close, feeling the warm comfort seep into her hands.

Just as she brings it to her lips, the doors swing open, and Tony strolls into the kitchen, spotting them with their drinks. 

“Oh, coffee! Pour me a cup, Romanoff.”

“Pour your own,” Natasha mutters, savoring her next sip. 

Tony feigns hurt, pressing a hand to his chest in mock shock. 

“FRIDAY, remind me, who owns this building?” 

“You do, sir,” the AI replies smoothly. 

Tony gestures upward triumphantly at her before pointing towards the kitchen. 

“So, technically, that machine is mine, the beans are mine, and...oh, right, that pot of coffee is also mine.” 

Natasha rolls her eyes but eventually reaches for the pot, lifting it begrudgingly.

Tony holds out his mug with a victorious grin. 

But just as she hovers the pot above his cup, she stops short.

“A ‘please’ once in a while wouldn’t hurt.”

Tony’s eyes widen, and he gasps in exaggerated disbelief as Natasha raises a brow in expectation.

Huffing, he mutters, “Can I have some coffee, please?”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Natasha quips with a smirk, preparing to pour him his coffee.

At that moment, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open to reveal you, fresh from your morning workout, dressed in your training gear.

You walk by the kitchen, spotting the other Avengers gathered around. 

A delighted smile spreads across your face. 

“Ooh, coffee! Can I have some, too?” 

Natasha’s response is instant. 

“Sure, I’ll make you a new pot.” 

Her tone is warmer than usual, surprising even herself.

You beam at her, and Natasha feels herself pause, momentarily captivated by the sight. Distracted, she almost misses your following words. 

“Thanks, Natasha! Let me change, and I’ll be right back.”

You slip through the doors, leaving Natasha blinking, still trying to regain her composure. 

Tony watches with raised eyebrows. 

“Wait a second—she didn’t even say ‘please,’ and you’re making her a whole new pot?”

Natasha’s eyes narrow as she holds the pot just out of reach of Tony’s mug. 

“Do you want coffee or not?” 

Tony grumbles before muttering a grudging “Yes, please.” 

Satisfied, Natasha pours the coffee, keeping her focus steady. 

“Natasha?” your voice catches her off guard, and she glances up to see you poking your head back into the room. 

“Yes?” she replies a little too quickly, immediately focusing on you. 

Both Clint and Tony fall silent, watching the two of you with curious eyes. 

“Steve’s got a mission tomorrow,” you explain. “Would you mind if I train with you in the meantime?”

Natasha’s mind races for a moment before she steadies herself to answer.

“Uh—yeah, sure. Anytime you want.” 

“Great!” you say enthusiastically before glancing worriedly at the counter. “I think that’s enough coffee.” 

Natasha follows your gaze, eyes widening as she realizes Tony’s cup is overflowing, dark liquid pooling across the counter. She yanks the pot away with a muttered curse. 

“Oh sh—!”

Tony steps back just in time, glaring down at his soaked countertop.

“Really, Romanoff? This is a new suit!” 

Rolling her eyes, Natasha grabs paper towels, unruffled by his dramatics. 

“Calm down, it barely even touched you.”

You let out a small laugh. 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, shooting her a smile as you exit.

“Okay,” Natasha murmurs, her attention lingering on the door.

Clint chuckles as he takes another sip, eyeing her knowingly. 

“You’re right, Nat. It’s not a crush,” he says, leaning back with a smirk. “It’s way worse.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha flashes one of her most charming smiles, leaning just slightly forward as the receptionist fumbles through her files, cheeks tinged with a rosy hue under Natasha’s intense gaze. 

“Here you go!” the receptionist says, her voice soft as she hands over a key card. “I���m sorry again for the mix-up.”

Natasha’s fingers rest lightly over the receptionist’s hand as she accepts the card, her eyes warm and a playful smile tugging at her lips. 

“No problem at all,” she replies, her tone smooth. “I don’t mind the delay with such lovely company.” 

The receptionist blushes deeply, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and giving Natasha a flustered smile. 

Natasha’s confident smirk grows as she watches her charms take effect. 

Quick and efficient, she slips the USB drive from the computer, seamlessly hiding it under her palm as it rests over the key card. For a moment, she feels pleased with herself, effortlessly pulling off her usual charisma.

See, she thinks to herself, Clint has no idea what he’s talking about—she’s got plenty of charm.

“Nice job, Natasha,” your voice suddenly crackles in her earpiece, startling her. 

Her hand slips in surprise, almost knocking over the items on the counter. She turns it into a casual adjustment, but not before the receptionist gives her a curious look. 

Natasha quickly smiles, grabbing the key card and offering a polite nod before walking away toward a secluded corner of the lobby.

Pressing a finger to her comms, she mutters, “Y/n? Where’s Clint?” 

“He had to step out for a minute,” you answer. “He asked me to take over. Is that okay?” 

“No–I mean—yes, of course,” Natasha says, the words tumbling out a bit too quickly. 

She straightens, running a hand through her hair as she tries to regain her composure. It’s not like she hadn’t expected you to assist with missions, but the thought of you watching her…

She tamps down the sudden flutter in her chest and forces herself to stay focused.

“Your next target is on the same floor as the key card you just picked up,” you continue, your voice warm and steady in her ear. 

“Got it.” 

“I’ll explain what you’re looking for.”

Natasha nods and begins striding toward the elevators, hoping her sudden focus will drown out the distraction of your voice in her head. 

She tells herself it’s just a mission—professional, routine.

But now, with you guiding her through the next steps, each word falling from your lips makes it harder for her to maintain her usually calm, steady demeanor. 

Her heart beats a little faster, and her cheeks feel a bit warmer than they should. She brushes off the thoughts and keeps walking, determined to stay cool and collected.

“Um…Natasha?”

She stops mid-step. “Hmm?”

“You’re…going the wrong way.”

Natasha freezes, blinking in surprise. She glances around, realizing she’s heading in the opposite direction from the elevators.

A wave of embarrassment sweeps over her as she lets out a quiet curse under her breath.

“Right,” Natasha says, turning with as much dignity as she can muster, her face heating as she finally heads in the correct direction.

Oh, she thinks to herself, she’s definitely going to kill Clint.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha steps out of her room, her leather jacket slung over one arm as she adjusts the zipper. 

Your voice calls her name from down the hall, catching her off guard and making her slam the door shut in a startled motion. She spins to face you, only to be tugged back by an unexpected resistance.

Natasha looks down with a sigh, spotting her jacket sleeve caught in the door. Tugging at it proves ineffective, as it stays firmly wedged in place.

Hearing your footsteps approaching, Natasha hastily shoves the jacket behind her back, trying to appear composed. She leans casually against the door, hoping the awkward moment has gone unnoticed.

“Hey,” you greet with a warm smile as you reach her.

“Hey, Y/n,” Natasha replies, attempting a relaxed tone.

You eye her with a hint of curiosity. “Are you…okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Natasha says quickly, forcing a casual smile. “Just, um, examining the door. Thought it could use a closer look.”

Your brows raise in amused surprise at her peculiar explanation, but you let it go. 

“Well, once you’re done with that,” you say, playing along, “I made a reservation at that new place downtown. I was wondering if you’d like to join me?”

“Just the two of us?” The words slip out before Natasha can stop herself. 

A flicker of excitement and amusement crosses your face as you nod. 

“Yeah, just us,” you say softly.

Natasha’s heart gives a small flutter, but she maintains her composure. 

“I’d love to,” she says, a smile slipping through despite her best efforts to stay calm.

“Great, it’s a date,” you say, grinning. “I’ll meet you in the garage.” With a playful smirk, you add, “After you finish your ‘inspection,’ of course.”

As you walk toward the elevator, Natasha watches you with a lingering smile.

Once you’re out of sight, she finally frees her jacket and heads to the garage a few minutes later, finding you waiting by her motorcycle.

You hop on behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist in a snug embrace. 

The warmth of your presence makes her feel a fluttering sensation in her chest she can’t shake. Distracted, Natasha blindly reaches for her helmet and slips it on—only to be met with complete darkness.

With a soft sigh, Natasha’s head drops to her chest, realizing she put it on backward. 

The chuckle that escapes your lips behind her is quickly muffled as you clear your throat, your hands reaching to help her. 

You gently remove the helmet, your fingers brushing her cheek as you pull it off.

When Natasha glances back, she catches the playful look in your eyes as you bite back a grin.

Seeing this, Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Can we just pretend the last few minutes didn’t happen and start over? I swear, this doesn’t usually happen to me.”

You laugh, unable to hold back anymore. 

“Oh, I know all about the smooth and charming Black Widow,” you say, your gaze warm and teasing. “But I think this side of you is pretty cute too.”

A faint blush spreads across her cheeks at your words, and Natasha takes the helmet, this time slipping it on correctly, with a soft smile she can’t quite hide anymore.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

It’s another one of Tony’s famous parties, where glittering lights reflect off polished floors and music pulses softly through the spacious hall. 

In the middle of the dance floor, beneath the warm glow, Natasha sways with you, her hands resting gently on your waist as you move together to the rhythm of the soft melody. 

You wrap your arms around her neck, leaning in and drawing her closer until your lips meet hers in a tender, lingering kiss. 

Natasha smiles softly against your lips, and as you pull back, she rests her forehead gently against yours, eyes half-closed in a moment of quiet contentment. 

Even as the music fades into the background, her hands remain firm on your waist, as if she has no intention of letting go.

“Why don’t we get something to drink?” you suggest, glancing over at the bar lined with sparkling glasses.

Natasha only pulls you closer, her fingers brushing lightly along the small of your back as she murmurs, “Or…we could stay right here and have another dance.” 

Her voice is a soft suggestion, and she leans in slightly, her green eyes filled with warmth and alluring charm.

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing smile spreading across your lips. 

“It’s cute how you’re trying to be smooth.”

Natasha’s expression shifts, feigning innocence. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, though the faintest blush colors her cheeks.

With a playful glint in your eye, you tilt your head at her in challenge. 

“How long has your bracelet been stuck to my dress?” you ask, giving her a teasing look.

Natasha glances away, the blush deepening as she realizes she’s been caught. She’s spent the past few moments subtly trying to free her wrist from your dress, but to no avail.

“In my defense,” she murmurs, attempting to deflect, “you distracted me with how beautiful you look tonight.”

You chuckle softly at her excuse, reaching up to pull her even closer. With a playful grin, you press a gentle kiss to her lips before leaning in to whisper against her ear.

“Think of the bright side—if you can’t get it loose, I’m sure you could just rip this dress off me.”

Natasha’s breath catches, and for a split second, she’s utterly still, her mind stalling at the suggestion. 

You pull back just enough to watch her expression, and a delighted smile grows on your face as she stares at you, wide-eyed and flustered, clearly caught off guard.

It only takes her a moment to catch on, her eyes narrowing in realization as she shakes her head with a playful huff. 

“You’re trying to embarrass me on purpose,” she accuses, a hint of a smile breaking through.

Unashamed, you bite back a laugh and nod. 

“It’s nice to see the calm and collected Black Widow all flustered for once.”

Natasha’s lips curl into a smirk as she pulls you flush against her, her free hand sliding up your back, fingers grazing along your spine. She leans in, her lips just a breath away from yours, the warmth of her gaze intense.

“Only for you,” she murmurs, her voice a hushed promise before closing the distance, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that makes you forget the world around you, the room fading away as you melt into each other’s embrace.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: just a short fluff with a soft Natasha that I had finished some time ago. after everything that has happened yesterday and today, I wanted to give some kind of happier distraction, even if it may be only a temporary escape from everything. I’m still going between disbelief, sadness, and anger myself about the situation while also trying to be prepared to continue on. But hopefully, this was able to bring some of you some sort of break from everything else.

[godsfavdarling]

watching him

part of him (one-shot series), my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader summary: You help Spencer wash his curls properly. words: 1,2k warnings: most self indulgent fluff you have ever read, nudity/bathing together, maybe a bit suggestive but still sfw, no y/n a/n: I was in the shower and famously I have the same hair type and color as mgg and we would absolutely share our routine.

Spencer's head tilted toward you, giving you better access to his tangled brown strands. 

Your fingers, maybe a bit too roughly, moved through his scalp, detangling with a kind of focused care you hadn’t realized you were capable of.

You sat facing each other in the cramped bathroom, your legs tucked on either side of his while his stretched out around you, creating a tight but strangely comfortable space between you.

You couldn't help but watch him intently. 

With his eyes closed, unaware of your gaze, he looked almost ethereal—peaceful in a way you rarely got to see. 

His wet curls framed his face, softening his features, and the dim light of the bathroom made him look even more serene. 

There was something mesmerizing about watching him like this, when he couldn't catch you staring, when he couldn't see the way you studied every detail.

He looked so pretty, so effortlessly beautiful, that you let yourself indulge, longer than you should, in the quiet act of watching him.

“This smells nice,” he murmured, his eyes squeezed shut to shield them from your movements and the severe foam you created. His voice was soft, almost drowsy. 

He didn’t say anything more, but you caught the faintest hint of pleasure in his tone. 

Maybe he enjoyed this. Maybe he liked having his hair tugged. You made a mental note of that.

“I don’t really like this one much,” you admitted, scrunching your nose at the scent as you continued working the product through his hair.

“Really?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly. His eyes remained closed, but the slight upward tilt of his head suggested curiosity.

“Yeah. It’s too intense. I liked it at first, but now it’s overwhelming.”

“I still like it. It smells like you,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

Not water related heat rushed through your body. 

You suddenly became hyper-aware of how close you were. 

You resumed your careful work on his curls, trying to focus, but it wasn’t easy.

You never thought you’d enjoy this so much. You hated washing your own hair, but washing his? It felt like a sweet dessert, a perfect indulgence after the cozy dinner you’d shared on the couch.

Your thighs kept brushing against his in the tight confines of the tub, sending a slow, torturous fever through your veins.

As if that weren’t enough, his hands found your knees at some point, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on your skin. 

He wasn’t making your task any easier.

You fought to keep your breath steady, your heart from racing out of control. You tried to play it cool, as if having him this close, this intimate, wasn’t driving you to the edge.

Is this what it felt like? 

Is this how you know the bond with him is real? Maybe it wasn't an accident after all. 

You've felt like you dreamed Spencer into existence, like he stepped out of the picture you'd been painting in your mind since childhood. 

You felt like you dreamed him up .

And one day, there he was—alive, right in front of you, as if he'd always been meant to be.

And now you were squeezed together in your tiny bathtub on a Friday night, showing him how to take care of his curls. 

“Okay, I’m going to rinse out the shampoo now. Don’t open your eyes,” you warned.

“They’re still closed,” he assured, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

You carefully worked the water through his hair, rinsing away the foam while your fingers combed through his curls. You realized you might’ve been a little rougher than necessary. You gently squeezed the excess water from his hair.

“You have to get rid of the water like this,” you explained, gathering his hair and squeezing it upward in small sections. “Don’t straighten it out, just squeeze it up. Does that make sense?”

“I get it,” he said, his voice laced with quiet trust.

“You could do more complicated stuff, but your hair’s pretty gentle, so I think just shampoo and conditioner for curly hair will do the trick. Just... don’t brush it when it’s dry, okay?”

“Okay,” he repeated, nodding slightly.

“You only brush it when it’s really, really wet. Now for the conditioner.” You took the bottle and squeezed out what you deemed the right amount, showing it to him. “This should be enough.”

He nodded again, his head still hanging, eyes shut as the water ran over him. You carefully worked the conditioner into his hair. 

“You can brush through it if you need to, but don’t put any on your scalp. This one doesn’t need time to soak in, so we can rinse it right away.”

You gently massaged the conditioner through his curls before turning on the water again, running your fingers through his hair to ensure all the product was rinsed out.

You turned the water off and squeezed the excess water from his hair one last time.

Gently, you lifted his head, tugging it upward, and carefully pushed his damp curls away from his pretty face. 

As you brushed the hair from his forehead, his eyes blinked open, still sensitive to the bright bathroom light. 

His lashes were damp, and he rubbed at his eyes, finally releasing his hold on your knees. 

For a moment, you both just looked at each other.

There you were.

Both naked.

Taking care of each other.

What kind of dream was this?

Before you got to dwell on your life more Spencer broke the silence. 

“Now, my turn,” he said, his voice still soft but now filled with a teasing certainty.

You blinked, surprised. “What?”

“I’m going to wash your hair,” he clarified, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

There was even more warmth in his eyes than usual and a quiet determination you weren’t sure you could say no to.

“Spence, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said, already shifting in the tub to give himself a bit more space, motioning for you to turn around. “But I want to.”

You hesitated for a moment, the idea of letting him touch you in such a way—this close, this tender—sending a flutter of nervous excitement through your chest. 

“Okay,” you murmured as you turned around. 

You weren’t sure how much longer you could handle facing him now that his eyes were open.

You couldn’t take the way he looked at you. It felt too soft and too loving sometimes.

What did you do to deserve this? To deserve him?

For the sake of your own sanity, you shifted your focus to counting the tiles, letting the numbers steady your racing thoughts of him.

So close. So visible in the bathroom lighting.

His hands found their way to your shoulders first, steady and reassuring, before sliding up to your head. 

His fingers, surprisingly deft, massaged your scalp with slow, deliberate movements, while his other hand held the showerhead, gently wetting your hair. 

You hadn’t anticipated how good it would feel, how effortlessly the tension in your body would melt away under his careful touch.

“I’ll be gentle,” he murmured, his voice close to your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to him. Letting him watch you.

[wispeth]

(doppelganger Merlin au. Arthur is looking at two Merlin's, who both have all of Merlin's memories, except the imposter doesn't have magic. which is perfect, because the real Merlin lied so flawlessly to Arthur that imposter Merlin would have a real chance to take over Merlin's life. oh and, uh, Merlin was drugged w a truth serum. so he can't lie about the magic if it comes up. The imposter is able to pretend to be Merlin better than Merlin can bc ofc the magic comes up.)

Arthur: What's the first thing you ever said to me?

Imposter Merlin, confidently: Hey, that's enough. You've had your fun my friend.

Real Merlin, dazed, looking over at the imposter in horror as he realizes that the imposter has all of his memories, and that the imposter is actually capable of lying rn unlike himself, which means Real Merlin can't even keep up his own facade, but the imposter can: (says exactly the same thing in perfect unison with the imposter, but looks a lot more lost and shaken about it)

Arthur, narrowing his eyes at them both: What is your favorite tunic to dress me in?

Imposter Merlin: The red one. (It was a fair enough assumption. It was the one that Merlin picked out for Arthur to wear more than any of the others.)

Real Merlin, unable to believe he's about to admit this, but he has truth potion in his system: Your nightshirt, when you decide to wear it... It is--you look the happiest, in that one. (gay sweatdrop)

Arthur, kind of floored by the vulnerability: (was honestly expecting Merlin to say the red one, but now he wasn't so sure because that also sounded like something girlish that Melrin might say) Alright... How many times have you saved my life?

Imposter Merlin, gleeful on the inside because he finally has a chance to play Merlin's part while Merlin can't even maintain his own web of lies because of the truth potion: (to this imposter's credit, he is very good at pretending to be merlin. he starts mumbling to himself and counting on his fingers, just as Arthur thought Merlin might have done.) Let's see, there was the dagger, the poison, the... (proceededs to ramble off most every single one that Arthur himself is aware of) ... so that's about, a dozen? I'd say?

also Imposter Merlin: (places his hands on his hips in Merlin's sassy way) I'm starting to think you owe me a day off.

Real Merlin, voice shaky, because they are getting nearer and nearer to the topic of magic: Twice a fortnite for as long as I've lived in Camelot... That's got to be in the hundreds by now.

Arthur, suddenly remembering all the creatures of the week that suddenly disappeared before they became a problem. He knew of about one every month or two, but he started reconsidering if his guardian angel had been taking care of threats that he perhaps DIDN'T know about: Erm... (still can't tell who the real Merlin is, because one of them is giving all the answers he's looking for and is acting exactly like he would expect Merlin to, but the other Merlin is being so damn earnest right now, as Merlin was wont to do in times of crisis) What is--what's an honest truth that you've told me that I have mistaken for a lie?

Imposter Merlin, knowing that he's being quizzed on the memories of their shared history, without missing a beat: Valiant's shield. It was enchanted with those snakes. You got into a world of trouble for confronting him about it in front of the entire court. (aka exactly the answer that Arthur was expecting from the real Merlin)

Real Merlin, with a knot in his throat and tears in his eyes because he knows he's doomed: (the first instance that came to mind was that time he saved Gwen's father from sickness using magic and Gwen got thrown in the dungeons for being an alleged sorceress--and of course that was his first thought, he is very very paranoid about the magic so it's all he's thinking about--he has to say the first one for the sake thought for the sake of honesty, even though it's damning) Gwen's not the s-sorcerer... I am. (is also making exactly the same face that he was making the day that he told Arthur about Valiant's shield, the face where he is pleading for Arthur to believe him. The imposter only has access to Merlin's memories through Merlin's eyes, so the imposter wasn't able to see what Merlin's face did that day, so he wouldn't have known)

Arthur, now even more unsure, just gapes for a moment because how fucking stupid does someone have to be to confess to sorcery in Camelot? Twice?! And it was worse yet that he still couldn't tell for sure which Merlin was the real Merlin because he'd never had to combine the image of Merlin with magic before and gods damn it all he needed a moment to process: (decided to start asking Merlin questions about himself instead of quizzing him on information that Arthur already knows) Who was your first love? (fully expecting to hear Gwen's name, although, Merlin was quite flamboyant....)

Imposter Merlin: It was Will... (blushes a little, looking flustered and matter of factly at the same time, in that awkward way that mimics merlin perfectly) You met him, in Ealdor.

Real Merlin, sneering at the imposter in the way that he did Cedric when he was bitter about replaced by a possessed man in the Cornelius Sigan incident (a/n: even though the episode I mention in this line is a totally different one. I think I mix referenced a lot of episodes in this ramble actually): H-her name was Freya. You killed her.

Arthur, alarmed: Killed her? Wh--Merlin--not Merlin--Merlin? (stammers on how to address this Merlin, tosses his hands up after 0.5 seconds) I do not recall killing any village girls in Ealdor..!

Real Merlin, shaking his head: She was the bastet. It wasn't her fault, she was cursed by a sorceress to become a bastet at night. It wasn't your fault either, you did what you had to; I don't blame you for what happened.

Arthur, suddenly remembering that night, remembering how Merlin was reaching for the dangerous feline beast as if it were only a kitten, as if Merlin was going to pet it, or shield it from Arthur, or any other number of things that also seem so very Merlin. Arthur hadn't even considered it before, but now? Looking back? Merlin certainly had been remarkably upset in the passing days after that: (more confused than ever) Wh... Where did -- where were you, yesterday? (Gaius already told Arthur that Merlin was at the tavern)

Imposter Merlin: At the Rising Sun. Gwaine took me out for a round of drinks. Something about a lucky charm?

Arthur, nodding along: (it was true that Arthur has heard Lancelot and a few other knights call Merlin a lucky charm) Hm... (turns to look at the other Merlin)

Real Merlin, with a wobbling lip: (laughs weakly, rolling his teary eyes a bit) I told him to stop using that excuse... (refocuses) I was crawling out of the mirror, if you must know. I TOLD you I had a funny feeling about it. (motions to the imposter) (he has tears in his eyes and a smile on his face, and his voice sounds exactly the same as it did that one time when he said to Arthur 'you're certainly not' after Arthur told him that no man was worth his tears)

Arthur, now watching Real Merlin more closely than Imposter Merlin, searching: Who was your favorite guest to mock at the feasts and whatnot?

Imposter Merlin: (kind of stumped bc he wasn't expecting a question like this)

Real Merlin, who is actually able to answer first after some thought: ..... (snorts) Does-- (snorts again) Would the Lady Catrina count as a guest, d'you think? Or should I--no--I'll say it was the Lady Vivian. You get this, LOOK on your face every time she sits near you at the banquet table when she comes 'round.

Arthur, jaw dropped in mock offense: Because she is rather touchy! We've been over this..! (doesn't even realized that he just responded to Real Merlin as if he were for sure the real Merlin, and momentarily forgot that there were two convincing Merlins present)

Imposter Merlin: Are you mad? Arthur, the fake me said it himself that he crawled out of the mirror and practices sorcerery..! (looks so earnest, so genuine, but it's just... not quite how Merlin would say it)

Arthur: (narrows his eyes at the imposter with slight suspicion)

Imposter Merlin: (gives Arthur a flat look, exactly like the real Merlin would do when Arthur says something stupid) Arthur, I am not a sorcerer. You would know. (a/n: last episode style)

Arthur, who had never once suspected magic, but did always know that Merlin had been keeping a secret from him (he'd always assumed it was the alcoholism, but now....): You'd think so, wouldn't you.... (glances at the real Merlin, looking a little hurt)

Real Merlin, not denying the magic at all: I was born with it. I use it for you, Arthur.

Imposter Merlin: You can't honestly--

Arthur, looking deep into Real Merlin's eyes: Swear to me, right now, that you are telling me the truth. Prove it to me.

Real Merlin: (grabs the hidden dagger out of the imposters hands, who had apparently been gearing up to attack Arthur, which is confusing enough all on its own because it made it difficult to tell which one of them was truly intent on attacking Arthur with it, and then charges Arthur)

Arthur, who normally has keen warrior reflexes but not when his enemies wear Merlin's face: (freezes up, and then watches in shock as the dagger clashes against the thin air about an inch in front of Arthur's chest, cast aside by some glowing shield that fades after a second)

Real Merlin: Why do you think it takes me three hours to polish your armor? Do you have any idea how long it takes to enchant the space between every link of chainmail? (drops the dagger at Arthur's feet so he knows it was just a demonstration and not a genuine attack, similar to the way that Arthur always aims just to the left of Merlin when he's throwing blunt objects such as goblets because he never wishes any actual harm on Merlin)

Arthur, blinking dazedly: (can't help but think of that one time that Merlin spontaneously became talented at juggling. it's such a strange thing to remember, and completely unrelated to the current happenings, but Merlin's smile was small and smug just like it had been that day, and it just--clicked)

also Arthur, looking slightly more sure of himself now: (needs one final test to make absolutely certain, but he thinks he knows just what to ask) What would you have me do, if I cannot tell you apart?

Real Merlin, without missing a beat: Arrest us both. (shrugs casually) I am a sorcerer after all. Better safe than sorry.

(And that's just it, isn't it. It was just like Merlin, to sacrifice himself like that. It was just so, unmistakenly Merlin.)

Arthur, smirking in mock offense: Better safe than--excuse you, I could take you apart with one blow!

Merlin *cough*hearteyes*cough* "Emrys" Hunithson™, the one and only: I could take you apart with less than that

(In the end, Merlin walks himself to the dungeons as the imposter is arrested, just to give Arthur peace of mind so there's no pressure to second guess his decision since even if Arthur chose wrong, there is no assassin Merlin imposter on the loose. Merlin and the imposter both spend 3 days in their respective cells before the imposter finally does some decidedly out of character shit and Arthur can have him executed with full confidence that it's not Merlin... since the guy really was very good at mimicking Merlin. Arthur didn't even realize that he'd needed it at the time, but looking back, he probably would have had a panic attack as the imposter was marched to be hanged. He probably would have doubted himself at the last second and wondered if he really did believe the right Merlin those few days ago. But thankfully, Merlin thinks ahead sometimes and is actually quite thoughtful and wise on these such rare occasions.)

[bamsara]

trod au ramble u can ignore

when i say slowburn in an enemies to friends to lovers for Trod I mean slowburn. 300k before Narinder even openly admits he cares for the Lamb, and Lamb actually opens up more than just a shield of positivity and another 100k of character growth, drama, complicated intricacies of grief and anger to communication. The Lamb has boundaries and sticks by them constantly in trod, they're not a pushover, but they don't blow up and react in explosive anger the same way that Narinder does and they are mistaken for soft by him for it, when it's him having to be the one who is constantly re-evaluating his priorities and his behavior because the lamb isn't taking shit from him, despite patience and love, and he's put in this position where he's allowing the grief and the hurt to keep hurting himself and the Lamb in the process, until he risks losing them and Narinder makes the active decision to work on himself. They HAD a healthy, wonderful friendship before, he cared for them. He still does. He wishes he didn't but god he still does.

but i dislike when characters do one change or have one realization and suddenly they're super nice. no I want them to be continuously complex. I want their bad habits and miscommunication to not instantly or quickly disappear, I want continuous effort from the wronger. do you hear me. CONTINUOUS EFFORT. that means a character fucking up again and again and relasping and changing and cursing and being like well he doesn't need to be any different because its not his fault then going back and being like. no. it was my fault. i am wronged and I am the wronger. i need complexities. Let us not forget the definition of 'enemy' in the enemies to friends to lovers here. if they start off soft then where is the growth. Where is the room for growth I want. Where is it.

they get to the processing of emotions they haven't allowed themselves to feel properly for centuries to take this friendship gone sour by betrayal, plagued by anger and hurt to something slowly blooming back into trust and care and soft until eventually its this healthy love of these uberly overpowered pair of gods

Trod bad end is when Narinder just speed runs the 'rehabilitation' part of the rehabilitation of death' and it circles back to him going feral in the head. Still an asshole? okay your lamb is gone. regret your pride and ego because the patient love you were afforded is gone forever and the last memory you gave them was not the love you could have given them but it will be the love that destroys mortality to get them back.

amnesia au Narinder is just happy to be here. no betrayal, no angst. eventually when his memory does return and he gets caught pretending he doesn't remember just so he can be sweet to them without his pride in the way will force a conversation that will essentially fix the horrific communication these two have. speedrun trod x2

Current Trod Narinder is a emo angsty bastard who's rightfully hurt at being imprisoned and (in his heart) betrayed by someone he trusted dearly (again) while Post-Trod Narinder is still a feral bastard but with truly un-constipated, true equal love for the Lamb that wears a wedding ring made of his own blood to the tune of 'i miss my wife tails' and got a praise kink

but if its not absolute hell getting to that point then WHAT IS THE POINT

and all these are mostly about Narinder but don't even get me started on the Lamb's issues. That sheep thang is hiding shit.

Except I can't talk about the Lamb's hiding issues Too Much yet unless you've been in my art streams and have seen some of my comics, then IYKYK but aaaaaaaaaaUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHG

[russellsppttemplates]

Lando calling his wife "lovie" got me 🥹🥹🥹

And just the image of him cooing about a milk drunk baby is enough to send my ovaries into combustion!

Would you maybe write a little bit more about it, like maybe Lando posting or sending his family pictures of his milk drunk babies because he thinks it is the cutest/funniest thing?

Note: you and me both, anon!

"Tell me this isn't the cutest, squishiest face you have ever seen!", Lando groaned softly as he admired your babygirl while he walked in the Silverstone paddock, "I have to admit that's a pretty cute baby", Ted said into his microphone.

"Pretty cute? Tilly is the cutest", Lando stated, adjusting the hat on her head to shield her face from the sunshine that graced his home race weekend, "she has her tummy full and she was out like a light, nothing can bother her, she's in her own little world", Lando smiled, delighting everyone who saw the infections of the new father and his babygirl.

"It's extra special, no? Your home race, your family is here - the youngest Norris is here too - and a pole position that by the looks of it could get you a home race win", Ted wondered.

"Yes, it definitely is, we're not taking anything for granted until we race, obviously, but the spirits are definitely high", he smiled, kissing Matilda's cheek as she made a little noise, "I had another question to ask you but this little one made it fly out of my brain, actually", Ted chuckled as he shook his head.

"She usually has that effect on people, you can't really pay attention to anything else", Lando smiled proudly.

.

"Little man is down, was absolutely milk drunk and went out like a light", you said as Lando stepped out of the en suite bathroom, crawling up to you in bed and stroking the baby's soft cheeks, "He's so sleepy, look at him", you cooed, "he fell asleep with my nipple still in his mouth, I barely got a burp out of him before he was knocked right out", you smiled.

"We make really cute kids, don't we, lovie?", Lando said, resting his head on your chest and facing Fraser, and from your point of view, it was clear this baby would become a Lando clone soon enough.

"So far, they all look the most like you, so you're really just tooting your own horn", you scoffed playfully, "these cute cheeks and pouty lips, lovie? They're all you", Lando charmed, making you blush.

.

"Can you give her the bottle, please?", you asked Lando, "I need to make sure Matilda is not doodling instead of doing her homework", you kissed Lando's lips and baby Charlotte's cheek.

"Let's warm this up for you, babygirl", Lando said as he put the milk in the bottle and popped it in the warmer, "you're hungry, aren't you? And fighting sleep so I've heard - you gave mummy a full on afternoon", he giggled, pulling funny faces as she giggled at her father's antics.

"Off we go then, open up - there we go, Lottie", he smiled as she suckled, finally get her tummy full as he walked around bouncing her, "hopefully you'll sleep because you really need it, and that way you can also give mummy a little bit of a rest, just so enough me and her can have a cuddle, you know?", he playfully tsked, "you've been stealing all of my cuddles", he giggled as he looked at her precious face. Life had been generous enough with him - he had the woman of his dreams, a career he loved and their three little ones. Life was good.

After burping Charlotte, Lando rocked her to sleep, which didn't prove to be very hard as she was milkdrunk as ever, her little mouth opened as she rested on his chest.

"Tilly is doing fine and Fraser is happily playing with his toys", you said as you sat down on the sofa next to your husband, your daughter happily sleeping on his chest, "take a picture of this cute face and send it to the groupchat, please", Lando whispered as he gave you his phone so you could dot it.

Lando: Look at this cutie 🥰

Flo: Look at her chubby cheeks, I can't!

Cisca: She looks so out-of-it-milkdrunk, I bet she's having a good nap!

Lovie: Seeing her like this almost makes it look like she wasn't wide awake the whole afternoon - she never closed those big eyes, she was always staring at me!

Adam: look at our little girl 😍

"You're so loved, babygirl", you said, brushing the hairs on her head, cuddling closer to your husband.

"Finally I am the one getting a cuddle from mummy", Lando cheered, kissing your lips, "jealous much, handsome?", you teased, "just wanted a cuddle from you, woman! This one has hogged your boobs from me - I have to take what I can get!".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[randomshyperson]

Baby, I'm Yours - Wanda Maximoff Oneshosts

Summary: The Avengers gain a new member, and Wanda Maximoff mistakenly assumes she has gained a rival instead of a friend. Or the one where Wanda has a crush that she doesn't know how to deal with. [Requested]

Warnings: really fluff, enemies to lovers, some kissing and a lot of teasing, avengers being a family, emo!Wanda and her first gay crush. | Words: 4.564k

A/N-> This was requested a while ago and I used it as practice for a winter soldier!reader idea that I had. Idk if I would ever make a series out of this idea, but it was fun to write this reader.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Seven months after she joined the Avengers, someone else did too.

Unlike her, Sam was extremely excited by the news, he woke up early and somehow managed to convince Vision to join him in the welcome. 

Wanda would have skipped the interaction - She only went to get breakfast and intended to spend the rest of the training-free day filled with interactions between the team, hiding in her room and watching old TV shows. But as soon as she noticed the little witch sneaking around the kitchen trying to go unnoticed by Sam's excited theories about who the new avenger would be, Natasha whistled and called out to her.

"Good morning, Maximoff. Do you intend to welcome our new colleague in pajamas?" The widow asked, hiding a teasing smile behind a cup of coffee. 

The question already implied what Wanda had feared, and made her sigh. "I didn't know I was expected to take part in the welcome."

Nat grimaced softly - she seemed to be finding the whole thing very amusing.

"What an idea, Maximoff, of course you are! We were all there waiting for you when it was your turn."

She forced a smile, resisting the urge to snap back something bratty like "Thor wasn't". Deciding she had no reason to argue with Natasha, she busied herself with preparing some toast and pouring herself some tea.

When Sam suddenly tapped on the counter, everyone looked at him.

"I got it!" he declared excitedly. "I bet the new guy is Spider-kid!"

Nat frowned. "Who?" and then chuckled to the Falcon's obvious disappointment.

"Come on, the colorful vigilante who keeps throwing webs around? How come you've never heard of him?"

Assuming a thoughtful expression for a moment, Nat flipped through the newspapers on the counter before clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

"Ah, I think Tony's got his eye on that one." She says. "But, no, Wilson. The new recruit isn't the spider. And there's no point in giving me that look, as I won't spoil the surprise."

It looked like the subject was ending - at least that Sam was going to give up. It wasn't long before the rest of the team showed up for coffee, and Wanda mumbled a few good mornings back quickly before making her way to her own room, to change into something more presentable than fluffy pajamas.

But on the way to the bedroom, from one of the glass entrance doors, Steve Rogers appeared and he was accompanied.

"[...] Come on, we're early, they must still be having breakfast." Commented the older Avenger, busy taking off his coat, it took him a moment to notice that Wanda was in the hallway. She was staring, probably. "Oh, good morning, Wanda. I want you to meet someone."

But Wanda already knew you, straight from the television. And from the Shield's files of potential Avenger-level threats. 

So maybe that's why when Steve said your name, patted you on the shoulder and you held out your hand for Wanda to shake, she just stared.

"Okay, not a handshaker." You mumbled awkwardly, lowering your arm. "You're Wanda Maximoff, mind reader and former enemy, right? I didn't expect the shock, given the circumstances."

"Hey, easy." Steve grumbled at your aggressiveness, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. Wanda narrowed her eyes at you, but you didn't look too intimidated, your posture relaxed and your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket. "That's in the past. We're all friends now. Aren't we, Wanda?"

With some resistance, she eventually forced a smile and tried to relax her posture. She sighed and nodded. "Of course, Steve. It's nice to meet you apart from the news, Miss Barnes. Should we wait for your brother to join us or does he still have Interpol on his back?"

You chuckle dryly. "Listen here, you-"

"Okay, enough." Steve interrupts, pulling you by the shoulders and giving Wanda a disapproving look. He also whispers that he'll have a talk with her later, but the witch turns away, dragging her feet back into the bedroom while you and Rogers head in the opposite direction.

On the way to the kitchen, you mutter: "And here I thought superheroes were polite."

The soldier chuckles briefly. "You tried to blow up the White House, you can understand the hesitation. Now come on, we've got the rest of the team to shock." 

It had taken her hours to see you again, not that anyone had asked her opinion, but Steve had put you in the room next to hers on the justification that it would be good for the two of you to have someone close in age to pass the time.

Wanda grimaced and reminded him that you were about 150 years old. Steve chuckled.

"Technically, yes. But she spent almost all that time on ice, so she was only really around for less than 20 years. Can you please try to be friendly? You have more in common than you might think."

Wanda begrudgingly agreed to be the one to give you a tour of the tower. And so she could also discover that she was apparently the only Avenger who was hesitant about your presence on the team.

She knew your list of skills off the top of her head, but still wondered if you could read what she was thinking when you added; "Your hesitation is totally fine, Maximoff. It must be hard to share the podium as the team's coolest person, but you get used to it."

She chuckled awkwardly at the compliment mixed with teasing at the end of the tour. You offered her a farewell wink, thanking her for the favor before muttering that you needed a shower after several hours of driving. You disappeared to your own room before Wanda could come to a coherent conclusion as to why her heart was racing inside her chest.

Perhaps she was having a panic attack? 

Wanda turned on her heels and made her way to Bruce's lab. A quick check-up would clarify things.

While assuring her that she didn't have a chronic arrhythmia, Bruce also - under the influence of Natasha and Tony - diagnosed her with something very common to teenage patients: a crush.

"Did you consider Miss Maximoff, that perhaps, you may have just liked her?"

She did not take this very well. 

"What? That's ridiculous! I'm not even gay!" Bruce looked up from the normal results of the cardiology test she had demanded and offered her a small smile.

"All right, Miss Maximoff, maybe I made a mistake. You're probably just anxious about your return to action next week." The doctor suggested and Wanda stood up from the lab chair with an impatient huff.

"That's definitely it." She assured him, not wasting any more time on Bruce and his absurd theories after thanking him for the tests.

After such an unfortunate situation, Wanda began to avoid you. It was the most viable solution when someone caused her to have irregular heartbeats, sweat or tremors. Perhaps she was allergic to you.

Obviously, she should keep her distance.

But it seems that the team had other ideas.

"Barnes and Maximoff, you're together. No gloves, come on." Natasha arrived at the gym announcing, an iPad with the training schedule in hand. Wanda, who had spent a good few weeks with the successful plan of interactions limited to greetings, nearly had a stroke. At least her partner, Sam, was keen enough to hold off his punch before it got to her. Wanda hadn't even heard his comment about her getting distracted in a fight and her feet were moving towards the mat, her eyes quick to notice your breathless figure removing the fighting gloves you had been using on a practice dummy for the last few minutes.

"Let's see if training with Wilson has taught you anything, Maximoff." You commented with a smile that made her stomach jump. Something about your sweaty, panting appearance was making her dizzy. 

The rest of the team spread out on the edges of the mat, interested to see the exercise, and it was only Natasha who came up to you to lead the whole thing.

"Start with the basics, I want to see Wanda's reaction time." The widow explained, squeezing the two of you on the shoulder. Before turning away completely, she raised a finger in warning to the younger brunette. "And no magic tricks, Maximoff. Even if you're losing."

Wanda smiled, rolling her eyes. Only once had she done that to Natasha and it seemed the widow would never let that story die.

Before the whistle blew, you looked her in the eye. "I'll take it easy on you, little witch." You whispered teasingly, and Wanda felt something burn in her lower belly. She also decided that she had to win because she had to get that smirk off her face.

It was an easier task than it looked - and it was all down to the fact that if there was one thing Hydra had taught her well, it was to exploit weaknesses. 

And yours was to care about her. Every hesitation in your movements, your awareness of the super-soldier strength that could hurt her, made it very easy for Wanda to exploit it, slip away, and dodge all your blows. And there was something else too; a soft choke in your breathing every time she got too close, tangled up between one move and the next. The way your ears turned three shades redder when she managed to knock you over and landed on your chest. 

"Wow, Maximoff really is kicking your ass." taunted Sam from the corner of the room, grinning at Barton and Nat.

You didn't seem to mind, licking your lips as you took a second look at the position Wanda now found herself in; sitting on your hips. 

She did, however, give you an annoyed look. "Don't hold back, I can take it." 

"I'm sure you can, little witch." You retorted ironically, leaning yourself fully back onto the mat. 

Wanda grunted angrily, then grabbed the collar of your blouse. "Fight for real! I don't need you to take it easy, I can handle it."

The disarming was so quick that she barely had time to blink - one second she was on your hips, the next her back was pressed to the mat with her hands pinned to the side of her head.

Your body on top of hers, pressing her to the floor, made her choke.

For a moment, as your dilated eyes descend to her mouth, you also seem to forget what you were doing, and the audience around you.

But suddenly, you let go; a dry, humorless laugh escaping you as you stand up. And you turn to Nat as if you hadn't just dropped Wanda on the mat.

After ignoring you for weeks, she thinks she deserves it.

"Her fight is decent, so I think we had enough."

Nat raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. "Oh, are you the one deciding on the training now, Barnes?"

You smile briefly before retorting; "Come on, everyone knows she's not punching her way out of fights when she can use the energy tricks. It's a waste of time making the girl train like a soldier."

Natasha doesn't seem to agree. She follows you towards the locker room, arguing how important it is to eliminate the team's vulnerabilities, while the rest scatter around the gym, some giving up practicing to get something to eat and others going back to wrestling.

Wanda regrets sitting on the mat because in that position she can watch you at the locker room door, tugging at your training shirt, exposing a strong muscular back and a lot of skin because of the sports top that doesn't do much good to hide it. 

Natasha continues to talk to you without taking any notice of the gesture, so Wanda is sure she's the problem. Her stupid brain and heart are clearly forgetting that she can't handle a crush right now. 

She doesn't even have Pietro anymore, who, as soon as he'd finished tormenting her about it, would give her advice. Because he's always had a natural talent for this kind of thing, while the last time Wanda tried to flirt with a boy, it sounded like a threat. 

She can't do this on her own. And with that conclusion, she tries to get over it. Maybe Google has some tips, or maybe, the walking computer that hangs around the tower can help.

"Vis?" 

The synthesized man took his eyes off the book in his lap when Wanda called out to him, a few days after the training session where, since being pressed into a mat by you, Wanda found herself unable to think of anything else. 

"Hello, Wanda." He greeted her gently, closing the pages and waiting for her to approach.

"I need your help with something."

"Oh, what would that be?"

Wanda pressed her lips together, her hands restless in front of her body. "Would you be able to tell me the most efficient way to... get over someone?" Vision frowned in surprise, and Wanda sighed. "Someone we shouldn't like. Definitely inappropriate."

Vis opens her mouth, still in shock at the whole thing, but it's someone else who speaks;

"What's definitely inappropriate?" Tony asks, and Wanda thanks the gods he didn't hear the first part. 

"N-nothing!" Rebuts the witch quickly, the color of her cheeks probably giving her away. Stark looks at her suspiciously, then at Vis.

"Okay, what are you two love birds talking about?" The Vision would have blushed if he could. He gets visibly embarrassed, smiling shyly.

That's great as if Wanda needed one more extra thing to stress her out. 

She can barely contain her grimace at the nickname, but Tony doesn't bother; Vision is at least quick to change the subject, and surprises Wanda with his ability to lie very well. 

"We were just commenting on how inappropriate General Ross's accusations were at the last meeting." And that's enough to distract Stark.

Wanda practically flees the scene after that. For a long moment, she had even forgotten about the tension that had been swirling around the Avengers over the last few days, precisely because your absence from the compound made her - not that she would admit it - miss you terribly. And all she could think about was inevitably you, busy on missions with Steve in search of your brother James.

With your presence increasingly rare in the Compound, Wanda hoped that the crush would go away, but every time she happened to bump into you between missions, the feelings came back with an overwhelming force, like two lovers the war kept apart. It was frustrating, to say the least. Especially since Wanda was nothing more than a teammate. Hardly a friend.

When Lagos happened, and it was the worst thing that could possibly occur, at least Wanda had something else to think about. And this time, Ross's visit to the Compound was more than inappropriate - it was final.

Accords and fights between the team led to an unbearable situation. With half of her colleagues out for meetings with the United Nations, Wanda was still grounded at the Compound, waiting for news.

She didn't expect you to be sneaking around.

"You shouldn’t be here." That's the first thing she says as she fully opens the bedroom door you left ajar. Wanda could lie about being your fault that she found you, when in fact she had become an expert at sensing your aura over the last few weeks, the ability to just know when you were around, perfecting itself every time you two met.

You chuckle, without diverting your attention from the task of filling your backpack with as many things as you can squeeze inside. Wanda had the impression that many of the items you came to collect in your room were old presents; everything the others had gotten you over the last few holidays. Things that were precious.

"I'm aware. I won't be long." You retort, folding some socks together to put them away in the closet.

Wanda should call Vis - he's working as a sort of watchman for the tower or something. And he was supposed to notify Tony of your presence. But instead, she closes the door.

Twisting her fingers in anxiety, she asks:

"Where are you going to run off to?"

Offering her a quick glance as you returned to your suitcase to put away some underwear that made Wanda look away, you replied; "I can't tell you that, little witch."

Wanda almost smiled at the nickname. Instead, she took a desperate step forward.

"Would you take me with you?"

Standing back, you chuckle. "Funny."

"I wasn't joking."

You leave the St. Petersburg snow globe you got as a present from Natasha on the dresser and turn with a frown to the witch behind you. "Maximoff, come on-"

"I'm serious." She insists. "Stark grounded me. Like a fucking child. “ She then chuckles sadly. “Or worse, a problem he didn't want to deal with. And I know I fucked up in Lagos-"

"Don't say that, Lagos wasn't your fault." You interrupt her with a certain determination. "You need to remember that, alright?"

Wanda smiles softly at your reassurance, looking away because her face is suddenly very warm. You sigh then grab just one more change of clothes before zipping up your suitcase.

"It's not because of the company, Wanda." You mutter suddenly, with the backpack on your shoulders. She looks at you with confusion, but you don't meet her gaze. "I just don't think it's right, everything that's happening. And I don't think we should all be fighting with each other. But that's what's going to happen from now on. If you come with me, Steve probably expects you to be choosing sides. And I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

Her heart skips a beat, but Wanda takes a chance;

"Anyone... or me?"

You're taken aback, but you don't lose your poise. You sighed deeply before approaching her without haste, without any hint of what you were going to do either. Wanda opens her mouth again, to apologize for being so difficult, but you muffle the statement with a kiss.

It's the first time she's kissed another girl if that isn't obvious. She melts, panting and so very shy; it's a good thing that you hold her waist, while your other hand keeps your face close by grabbing her chin gently. Wanda's lungs scream for air after a moment, but she refuses to pull away from a sensation as good as kissing you.

Something like a whimper of need escapes her when you break the act, or maybe it's the way you give her lower lip a gentle tug with your teeth that leaves her trembling, ready to beg for more.

"Sorry if that was sudden." It's the first thing you say, your voice is hoarse, and as affected as your breathing. You smile, your thumb wiping away some of the mess left by Wanda's gloss. "But I think it took us long enough."

She babbles like a fish, unable to form a coherent thought for a whole moment. You wait patiently, your hands touching her shoulders, sliding down her arms as a way of calming her. Wanda has dreamed so much of feeling you that the touch meant to ease her nerves has quite the opposite effect; every inch of skin you touch tingles.

"H-how... did you know?" she asks, and you give a short laugh.

"I didn't." You retort gently. "Not for sure, at least. Not until two seconds ago when you asked to come with me. I had this... feeling. And this tension. Every time we walked into the same room, every time we were alone. I just felt…” You can put it into words exactly, so you just take a deep breath and smile at her. “I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, that the way I felt was making me imagine things but then you came in here. Sneak out into my room and ask if you could leave this fancy tower to run away with me to fight. I just had to be sure."

Wanda bites back a shy smile, feeling the heat spreading from her chest to her face and eras, and knowing for a fact that it's only going to get worse because of the way you're looking at her.

She tries to get some ground again.

"And are you..." A sigh, as one of your hands settles on her waist. "Sure?"

You hum thoughtfully before breaking the distance, kissing her in a different way than before. It's more intense and hungrier. Your tongue invades her mouth, exploring everywhere and your hands prevent her from pulling away when the oxygen is off. Every needy sound that escapes her is muffled against into lips. 

Wanda tentatively follows the rhythm, one of her hands wrapping in your hair. Your backpack falls to the ground and you hold her tighter now, pulling her into you. It's a significant difference between a super-soldier's body and her own, and just the quick memory of you pressing her against the mat makes her moan into your tongue.

The sound makes you lose your mind - Your hands become more determined, the kiss desperate. Wanda struggles for air, exposing the collarbone that keeps you busy as she tries to catch her breath. You bite down on her skin and she arches against you, her hands becoming bold enough to scratch your back and pull up your blouse.

But you break into a husky chuckle, slowing the kiss and pulling away to remind her; "We have to go." Between one touch and the next, "We don't have time."

She needs a whole moment to force her brain to work, and even after you're no longer touching her, and she's sneaking off to her own room to prepare a suitcase, she's still shaking.

When you meet again, running hand in hand with suitcases back to the garage, Wanda is surprised to realize that she was foolish to be afraid of something as good as this. 

That is, of course, until reality hits again.

Wanda has never seen you in action as a Winter Soldier before. She saw it through television, Shield files, and testimonies about deserters captured by the Avengers.

But she was never there.

The Avengers split up and fought each other, and your brother fled with Steve Rogers. She thought you were safe on the plane with them, she made sure you got on - but she didn't see you climb off.

Wanda accepted being captured, she accepted being drugged as a security measure. And throughout the confusion that was the transportation of the Avengers in custody to the Raft, she thought she was hallucinating the whole way there. The masked figure attacking the soldiers and opening the cells was a projection of the sedative in her mind.

She only knew what had really happened, had been able to remember, when you both were already in another country as fugitives from the United Nations.

You were by her side the whole time. You held her on your lap after getting rid of the straitjacket that had trapped her and lay down next to her when there was finally a secure roof over your heads.

Wanda was exhausted. She had lost the only thing she had left; her freedom. There was no longer a home, a team, a brother. She was drugged and trapped like an animal by people she considered family.

She started crying, and you woke up. You didn't say a word or ask her to stop. You just held her and let her sob into your chest until she fell asleep again, this time from exhaustion rather than through the influence of chemicals.

When what was left of the team moved on the following day, to another location to avoid suspicion as Natasha clarify it, Wanda got the impression that maybe it was you who needed her to hold you until you went to sleep now.

Bucky didn't come back, and neither of you knew what had happened to him or Steve. 

Wanda let you cry all you wanted.

But then finally, everyone who had fought for Steve was back together. Even Clint and Scott, who would probably make deals for their families, to try to be with them, and would have to leave soon. For a moment, everyone was there and you found out that your brother was going to stay in Wakanda to be free again.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a good moment. Steve got food for everyone, you had something that resembled a Christmas, or at least an end-of-year celebration.

We're alive and safe. We're together. Steve was a man of words.

Even if they were sharing a safe house that was too small for such a group. Even if half the world was after them.

The team fell asleep between sleeping bags and sofas, and you left the trailer to get some air. Wanda went after you without thinking much about it.

"It's cold, witchy." You commented as soon as she was close enough, even though you opened your arms for her to wrap hers around you.

Your back was against Nat's truck, and Wanda pressed a little closer to hide her face in your collarbone.

"Where are you going to run off to?" She questions into your skin.

You sigh, one hand caressing her back. "I don't know." You confess quietly. "I wouldn't get to Wakanda with this, but I wasn't feeling very well in there. Having a Christmas meal without him."

Wanda adjusts her face to look at you. "Bucky needs to heal first."

You nod, giving her a sad smile. "I know, but Steve told me they put him back on ice. Until they found out what they were going to do with him. Just the fact that he's there, freezing again... " You look away, sniffling softly. "It reminds me of the past, our time as Winter Soldiers. And It makes me very sad.” You explain softly before sighing. “I know there's nothing we can do to help him now, but it's all so frustrating. I just needed to get out of there for a moment."

Wanda absorbs your words for a moment until she returns to her previous position and smiles as she feels you relax and put your arms around her. 

She murmurs; "It's a shame we can't go out there. Natasha said this place has beautiful spots to visit."

You snort slightly. "Actually, we could drive somewhere further away. Far from the city." You comment. "We can watch the Aurora Borealis."

Wanda bites her lip for a moment, considering your invitation, until she adds; "Just the two of us?"

You chuckle. "Unless you want to wake up the team..."

"No, I wasn't complaining!" She clarifies quickly, and you start laughing again. 

She taps you gently on the shoulder to make you stop. "Idiot."

"Your idiot." You hit back with a smirk, and Wanda's heart stops beating for a moment. There's a pause, between exchanging intense glances as you bring your hands to her face, adjusting her hair out of the way. "Don't forget, witchy."

She swallows dryly, her voice hoarse when she speaks: "I won't." She whispers back and you smile before pressing your lips into hers.

[neckromantics]

I don't think enough of you are seeing the potential in letting Astarion drink from your wrist??

(Brief warning: this got a little more sensual than I'd intended? I think I am possessed.)

The way you could still sit as close as you want, plastered to his side even– one leg thrown over his lap while the other is outstretched behind him. It would take a little bit of maneuvering to get the angle just right, but once you do it, it quickly becomes one of your favorite ways to feed him.

You'd have a better view from this angle as well. Would be able to see the glint of bared fangs just before they sink deep into the tender skin of your wrist with a soft pop. To watch the shiver that rolls through him as the taste of you finally meets his prodding tongue– his throat working as he takes that first, careful swallow.

You trace up the curve of his spine as base instinct takes over. His body forms a shield as he hunches, pale digits digging into your outstretched arm as if you'd ever have the heart to take his meal away from him before he's anything less than sated. Happy.

Your fingers comb through the sweet little, silver curls at the nape of his neck, nails scrubbing at his scalp as a form of encouragement so gentle he practically purrs.

Gods, the noises he makes when he's enjoying himself. You can't help but squirm in anticipation when his breathing begins to pick up. Each quick inhale becomes choked off with a little moan of satisfaction– or a whine so high and strained, as if he's hurting in the best possible way. It's as if you taste so good that he doesn't know what to do with himself. His legs kick up a bit. The heels of his boots drag the ground before he settles back down. He jerks away and then towards you once more. Practically writhes in ecstasy. You have to turn your head away just to stare at something far off in the distance. A pathetic attempt to focus on anything else before you lose your mind.

Eventually, you feel your offered arm begin to grow colder. A slight tingle at the tips of your fingers slowly creeps its way up and prompts you to wiggle in an effort to lessen any discomfort. The movement pulls him out of his trance just a bit, and you can feel it.

The length of pause between each swallow starts to become longer. Every pull of your blood becomes a little more shallow, a little less desperate as he braces himself for the moment you say you've had enough.

Admittedly, you always wait a bit too long than is comfortable. It's really hard to ask him to stop when you can physically feel the satisfaction radiating off of him in waves, but you know you have to say something the second you feel that all too familiar floaty sensation begin to sneak up on you.

The moment your temple hits his shoulder, he's pulling away with a sharp gasp of unneeded air, a sad, little whimper escaping his open mouth before he has the chance to muffle it. It's only now that his eyes flutter open. A more vibrant crimson now that he's properly fed, all hazy and soft with a wonder that you'll never grow tired of seeing. He turns to meet your half-lidded gaze from where you're slouched against him.

It'd be so easy for him to slip, to give into the urge to clamp down and drink and consume until you've got nothing left to offer. Especially when you're hanging off of him this way, eyes filled with warm adoration and body so willing to let him take and take and take.

Oh, how he must be careful, now.

The vampire's eyes get a certain headiness that you know all too well, locked onto your own as he allows himself one last taste. You can only watch as he chases a rivulet of blood all the way down the length of your forearm, petal soft lips creating artful smears of crimson with each sloppy press, only to be cleaned away a moment later by the gentle swipe of his tongue.

Your thighs clench automatically around his waist in response, and if he notices, he thankfully doesn't tease you for it. Yet.

After so many feedings, he's really got the hang of biting you in a way that doesn't do any lasting damage. So, it isn't very long before the marks his teeth have left behind no longer weep openly. The familiar, dull throbbing that resonates from the twin punctures is soothed by the soft press of his mouth. Then, the cheeky bastard makes it worse by giving a harsh, cheek-hollowing suck.

It's your turn to whimper.

He pulls away with such a smug smirk. It'd have your eyes rolling if you had any sort of brain function left.

His fingers are now warm as they knead against the numb skin of your drained arm, wiggling it about for you, and bending it the elbow a few times in an effort to get the blood flowing. It's a small act of kindness that you find ever so endearing, and you thank him with a tiny smooch to the very corner of his jaw.

He thanks you right back for the nice meal, with a loving stroke of his knuckles against the side of your face. Gives you a kiss so eager that you're left in shock.

You can taste the copper you've left on his tongue as it swirls against your own, and can't stop yourself from deepening the kiss a moment later. You swallow down his responding groan like he swallowed down all those mouthfuls of your blood. Eager. Just a little desperate. Happy.

Anyway, what was the point of this post again?

[devil-in-hiding]

Okay but the 141 finding you and your baby trying to hide from a hoard of zombies and when they finally get to you (and you stop fighting them because you've encountered plenty of bad men in the apocalypse), they're so soft and caring and help get you two to their safehouse. Kyle helping to hold the baby while Simon takes your bags immediately to help. When you get settled you can't help but notice formula on the table the next morning next to a freshly cooked meal that doesn't look terrible. You've found that for the first time, you're safe... and maybe you're home.

The rushing of blood in your ears drowns out the moans of the hoard outside of the supply closet you find yourself in, clutching your 7 month old to your chest as you pet his hair, doing your best to comfort him as panic floods your veins

You jump when he coos, looking down at him with wide eyes as you cup his tiny cheek. “Shhh, shh baby, mommy’s got you..” you whisper, voice still shaking. There’s the clatter of metal farther down the corridor, and the sound of shuffling feet.

The next minute is blur, you hear the sickening squelch of a knife lodging itself in a decayed skull, a gruff voice cursing the spray, then the thump of a body hitting the ground, then more. Your fingers flex around the handle of your own blade, positioning yourself so your back is to wall, your son cradled to your chest, face tucked into your neck to shield his sight away from whatever lays beyond the door.

And then it’s opening, being flung away from the closet and landing with a clang. You don’t think, just lunge.

“Jesus!”

“Woah! Hey, HEY! Calm down pretty!” A deep voice barks, and you whirl around, slashing at the air before your wrist is caught. “Calm down! You’re gonna hurt the both of ya!”

[tinalbion]

'𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐌𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥' ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! Minors, DO NOT interact! Smut with plot, fem!Reader, mutant!Reader, unprotected p in v, choking, biting, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), jealousy, canon typical language, no use of y/n,

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 10k (got a LITTLE carried away, oops)

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: After a successful mission, you return to the mansion to an annoyed Wolverine, who isn't happy with the time you've been spending with Scott Summers. You offer to hang out with him since you two are incredibly close, and that leads to a game of pool, and your eyes begin to wander while you're both flirting like crazy. You're afraid to make the first move, so maybe Logan will do it for you.

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

You had just gotten back from a mission that Professor Xavier had asked you to attend, and naturally, he had paired you up with someone who could challenge your growing capabilities, so he had you escort Scott Summers, who had a completely different skill set than you. He figured that if you could figure out how to work together, it would be useful to you in the future, and you thought he had a point when he put it in that context. The truth was, you and Scott didn't get along, more so you were over the top for his calm demeanor. You had a mouth on you, said what you thought, and your fighting was a bit too sloppy for his taste. He had constantly compared you to Logan Howlett, your ‘other half’, as he referred to him behind your backs. 

You and Logan had become thick as thieves after you’d initially joined the X-Men, many people speculated that you two were ‘an item’, but as much as you would have wanted that, there would be no way Logan would agree. You and Logan constantly bickered, joked around, and enjoyed each other's company to the point that it was hard for others to be around you when you were in a room together. Your personalities melded well enough that you worked well with one another. 

After the initial headache of having to deal with your loud comments of distaste for the company during this mission, Scott seemed to notice your distraction as you looked around and surveyed the area, and he felt that maybe he'd have some peace and quiet as you acquainted yourself with the area. You and Scott went head-on into the mission, learning to depend on one another, and you learned quite a bit now that your attention was solely focused on saving another like you; a mutant, a child. 

With Scott's help, you were able to easily maneuver through the others who were keeping the small girl hostage, using your powers to easily dispose of the threats with Scott alongside you, giving you tips and ideas to use as he fought alongside you. Just this once, you thought, he wasn’t all that bad. 

 Logan scowled as Scott patted you on your back once you entered the mansion, the man walked up behind you as he kept his shielded eyes glued to you. You helped save a mutant kid on a mission and Scott just couldn’t stop singing your praises since you arrived back, and Logan wasn’t too fond of the way Scott was lingering around you. In Logan’s mind, he should be the one singing your praises, not Scott. He should be the one doting on you and soaking up all of your time, only if he wasn't so stubborn and allowed himself to break that barrier down once in a while.

He waited until you had walked away from the small group that greeted you, all gathered to see how your mission had gone, and the little girl had followed Scott to go and meet the Professor, which left you smiling and talking to the group that soon began to disperse. 

“You ‘n Slim been getting real familiar lately,” Logan said, not even attempting to hide his bitterness as he walked up to you, having finished his own mission not even twenty minutes ago. 

You smiled over at Scott as he led the little girl away and nodded as he praised you once more, wanting to show genuine thanks, but as soon as you saw Logan, your smile grew wide. Without hesitation, you ran up to him to greet him and waved. "Hey, Logan!" His comment about Scott made you laugh. "Ah, well, Charles has been making him teach me some stuff out in the field.”

Logan’s sour mood was instantly lifted as you ran up to him. He smiled back at you, the annoyance he felt from earlier gone now that you were in front of him, looking adorable as usual. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, trying to remain stoic.

“What kinda stuff he been teaching ya?” he replied, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

You looked over at Logan and smiled warmly, always enjoying when he was near you. "Well, mostly combat, but I don't have his mutation so I have to do more up close combat than what he does.” You sighed with frustration at the entire situation, but you remained as positive as you could, thankful for the opportunities.

Logan nodded his head as he listened intently, but he couldn’t deny that that answer displeased him a little; the thought of Cyclops showing you how to fight hand-to-hand combat made his blood boil, and he hated to think about him so close to you like that. He’d seen the way Scott looked at you, he knew his thoughts, or what any guy would do to be near a woman in such a situation. Wasn't having Jean enough to satisfy him?

“Yeah? He show ya all the right moves yet, darlin’?” He asked, trying to remain casual.

"Well, no," you confessed and leaned in closer. "He's kinda bad at it," you said in a dramatic whisper, rolling your eyes for even more dramatic effect. 

Logan let out a sharp bark of laughter. That was the answer he wanted to hear. He was always looking for a reason to tear into Scott. "Yeah? Well, maybe you oughtta be spendin’ a little more time trainin’ with ol’ Wolvie here. He’ll show ya some much better moves than Cyclops ever could," he replied, leaning in closer to keep his voice down.

"Well that's the funny thing, I did request you on field missions and the Professor said no, that I needed to focus…”

Logan’s smile immediately dropped. He frowned deeply at the mention of Charles. Of course, the Professor would say something like that… "Yeah? What’d he say, exactly?" He asked, his tone growing serious as his irritation returned thinking of you with Scott.

"Well, he said I'd only be paying attention to you, and not actually working, goofing off." You huffed and crossed your arms. "He says we mess around too much, don't take anything seriously when we're together.”

Logan felt his face heat up at your words. Well, at least it wasn’t because you were paying too much attention to Scott. He huffed in slight annoyance. “So, what? He sayin’ you’d be too distracted around me to focus on a mission or somethin’? Pfft. Sounds like a load a’ bullshit to me.” He looked away, avoiding your gaze as he crossed his arm over his chest, mimicking you.

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying! You're better at hand-to-hand and I wanted you to teach me," you huffed in irritation. “I take missions seriously, the Professor should know that.”

Logan’s frown morphed into a grin upon hearing that. It felt good to hear you say that and he had the perfect response for your anger. “Well, I’m sure the Professor won’t mind if we sparred sometimes, huh?” He said, his grin growing wider. “We could prove it to him when we kick some ass together.”

"Well, no, I don't think he'd mind that. We could do that in the danger room whenever you'd want. I bet you could teach me to throw a real punch," you said with a smirk.  "Still can't believe the Professor said no though…" 

“Yeah? You wanna learn how to throw a real punch, huh?” He chuckled to himself. He loved it when you got like this: feisty and ready for a fight. The thought of you taking swings at him? That was… exciting.

“Y’know, I bet I could teach ya a bunch of stuff he don’t want ya to know. Maybe he’s scared of how good of a fighter I’ll make you,” he teased, leaning in closer to you.

You couldn't help but giggle as you looked over at Logan. "Mhm maybe, but he also said–" You puffed up your chest, trying to imitate the Professor as best as you could. "You should never just hone your gifts, but learn to work well with others' gifts, then you won't have a weakness when you have each other." 

Logan couldn’t help but burst with laughter at hearing your impression of Charles. “Eh that’s a buncha bullshit,” he barked, rolling his eyes. He always preferred to work alone. The thought of relying on your own strength, your own fighting ability, seemed more practical to him. “So, what, he expects you to get all buddy-buddy with Slim?” He asked, a hint of jealousy lingering in his voice.

You sighed and shrugged your shoulders, not aware of the underlying irritation Logan felt. "Apparently. He said our mutations are opposite and his is far-ranged while mine is more close-ranged. I need to learn to compliment others in battle if we want to thrive." 

You groaned again, just wanting to hang out with your friend, Logan. The friend you had intense feelings for. Maybe Charles knew about that and intended to keep you distant so you wouldn't do anything stupid. 

Logan couldn’t help the eye roll at that comment. Opposites, huh? That seemed to bother him even more. He just KNEW Scott wanted to get his hands on you.

“Yeah? Well, he sure don’t mind gettin’ his hands on you, huh?” He grumbled, under his breath. He was really trying to hold back his jealousy, but the thought of you learning how to fight with Cyclops… just didn’t seem fair.

You took his comment as a little odd, but maybe he was just looking out for you. "Well, I think he was just being nice, I wouldn't take it that far, Logan," you scoffed, looking away from him with a smirk. “Besides, he's got Jean,” you said as if her name left a sour taste in your mouth. 

Logan’s frown deepened, his jealousy rising with every word you spoke, not to mention the slightly uncomfortable feeling that stung him when you mentioned Jean. He grumbled, his irritation growing rapidly as you dismissed his worries.

“Oh yeah?” He said through clenched teeth. “How is it that you don’t see the way he looks at you? He’s always got his eye on you. ‘Nice’, my ass.”

"I never see it because I don't look at him," you pointed out to him. “And again, he's got Jean.”

Logan’s jaw tightened as you responded, his hands clenching into tight fists. He knew you were oblivious to the way Scott was acting around you, even if it seemed so obvious to him, even if he had Jean. What was stopping him from acting that way with you when he once acted that way with Jean?

“Yeah, and you’re also not seein’ that it ain’t just him,” he retorted, leaning back against the sofa. “He ain’t the only one who’s got his eye on you.”

This took you slightly off guard, but you just chalked it up to Logan really disliking Scott. "What you seem to not understand is I'm not looking at Scott because I'm looking at you," you confessed with a softened gaze. 

Logan froze as the words came out of your mouth. His face heated up, his irritation and jealousy replaced with surprise and a hint of hope. He wasn’t sure if he heard you right. Did you really just say you were looking at… him?  He was stunned. He didn’t know what to say, so you had rendered him speechless for once.

You scoffed at his reaction and waved your hand in front of his face. "Earth to Howlett," you giggled. "What, honey badger got your tongue?”

Logan snapped out of his daze, his cheeks turning a soft shade of red. He grumbled under his breath, the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment. “Oh, shut up,” he muttered, ducking his head to avoid your gaze. His heart was practically leaping out of his chest and you were just laughing at him.

"Mhm you're cute when you get flustered," you said softly leaning closer to him, resting your shoulder against his as you nudged him gently. 

Logan was sure his cheeks were a full-blown shade of red at this point. He was not used to being called “cute”, and he definitely wasn’t used to people getting so close to him, let alone someone he secretly adored. 

He cleared his throat and tried to maintain a casual demeanor, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. “Yeah? You, uh… think I’m cute?” He questioned, his voice wavering a bit.

"Oh absolutely, and ruggedly handsome, and stunning… I could go on." You said, listing them off as you tapped your fingers, that large shit-eating grin on your face, knowing very well it got under his skin. 

Now that did it. Logan’s face was on fire. Never, in his entire life, had someone ever lay on the compliments so thick, certainly not one as sweet and gorgeous as you. He swallowed hard and tried to play it off as his usual careless demeanor. He was used to messing around with you, so why was it really getting to him today? “Aw, shut up,” he grumbled, shifting awkwardly against the wall.

You couldn't help but laugh at his cool demeanor, so you shrugged as you pushed yourself away from the wall, smiling wide as you looked back at him. "Oops, sorry," you said playfully. "I'll meet you back in the living area. I gotta go and check in with the Professor." 

Logan didn’t want you to leave just yet, not when you were making his heart race like that. He let out a sigh and nodded his head, trying to act as stoic as possible. “Yeah, alright. You go on ‘n do that,” he mumbled.

"I'll see you in like, ten minutes then! Maybe we could have a beer," you offered and waved sweetly at him as you turned around to start to walk off, smiling wide. 

Truthfully, you loved being around Logan, but you had no idea if you could ever admit that to anyone, they wouldn't understand the charm he had that you adored so much. With how quickly you two got on, it was a wonder that you were able to keep your thoughts as pure as they had been for so long, but lately, something about Logan getting all hot and bothered by you hanging around Scott made you realize just how much Logan truly meant to you.

Logan watched you walk away, his eyes lingering a moment too long on your figure. He mentally scolded himself for being so damn affected by you. It was so uncharacteristic of him, and yet, he couldn’t help himself. He was downright swooning. When you offered to have a beer with him, he leaped at the opportunity, it was the perfect moment to spend some time together. Away from Scott and the others, the way Logan preferred it. 

“Yeah,” he replied, managing a smirk. “Sounds good, darlin’.”

So you went to talk to the professor and debrief him on the job you and Scott had done, and you did voice your ideas about working with others on the team to ‘spice things up’, as you worded it, and the Professor knew what you were getting at. He stopped you mid-sentence and looked at you with a soft stare. 

"I know you want to work with Logan,” he began. “When you're ready, you'll be able to handle it," the professor explained. “I know it may seem frustrating, but Logan does have his disadvantages when it comes to missions, he's still getting used to working as a team, and sometimes he makes a decision that isn't the best for everyone involved.” 

You grumbled in annoyance but nodded to the professor, so you thanked him and made your way to the living area to meet back with Logan. 

Logan was already sitting on the couch in the living quarters, leaning back with a beer in hand, when you finally walked in. His heart immediately thumped as he laid eyes on you, and he felt his cheeks heat up. He mentally cursed himself again, he needed to keep it together. He didn’t want you to think you had this much of an effect on him, but he'd be lying if he said you didn't. 

Logan patted the cushion next to him and gestured for you to join him. “C’mere, darlin’,” he said, his voice rough.

With a smile, you followed his instructions and plopped right down next to him, grabbing a beer from the table. "Ugh, the professor denied my request again," you complained to him. 

Logan grunted in irritation as you sat down beside him, so he took a sip of his beer, his other hand tapping on the bottle. “He did, huh? I’m not surprised.” He rolled his eyes, taking another swig. “What’d he say this time?”

“He said you don't ‘play nice’ working in team environments, so until there's a chance that people get hurt when you make a wrong decision, it's dangerous. But you're not like that!” You huffed, popping the bottle open and sipping it fast. "I don't get it, I feel like I'm ready and you wouldn't do anything stupid to get someone hurt, I don't understand.”

Logan sighed and shook his head in agreement. He was frustrated, too. He didn’t understand why the Professor was so adamant on denying your request. He leaned back on the couch and ran a hand through his hair. “I feel the same. You definitely got potential if things go south, you’re a quick learner. Way quicker than the others, that’s for damn sure.” He stole a glance at you, watching you from the corner of his eye, all he wanted was to spend more time with you. “And as for me, we'll, he ain't wrong, exactly… teamwork ain't my strong suit.” 

“Well, still, you wouldn't get anyone hurt on purpose, I know you well enough to vouch for you there.” You grumbled again and took a long sip of your beer, hating the taste of it, but you stuck it out. When you looked back over at Logan, you offered a small smile. "How was your mission, at least?”

Logan chuckled and shook his head. You were feisty, he liked that about you. It was endearing to see how determined you were to get what you wanted. He shrugged his shoulders in response to your question. 

“Fine, I suppose. We weren’t there for long, took out the bots, and got out. Nothin’ too major. Nothin’ I needed Cyclops to help me with,” he replied with a scoff. He took another drink of his beer and glanced over at you. “How ‘bout you? Missions have seemed to be goin’ smoothly for you recently, huh?”

You couldn't help but scoff at his comment and looked over at the window, sighing. "Yeah, so far, it's been fun being out in the field, though, I like being more hands-on." 

Yeah, that was one thing he adored about you. Your need for combat and to prove yourself as a capable fighter, it wasn’t for everyone, but you were determined to get your hands dirty. Logan couldn’t help the smirk spreading across his face. “Damn right, that's where all the fun is, out in the field. And you’ll get your chance, just gotta wait until the Professor pulls his head out of his ass and lets you,” he snickered.

You giggled at his comment and shook your head. "Yeah, we'll see, but I do hope we can work together one day, oh I bet going on a mission with you would be so fun!”

The fact you wanted to work with him on a mission was intriguing, to say the very least, but he almost felt a sense of pride seeing you want to work with him. “You’re full of surprises, ain’t ya, kid?” He asked with a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Just call me a fun house I guess," You joked. "So, how does Wolverine spend his downtime after missions?" You asked. 

Logan scratched the stubble on his chin and chuckled. “Well, I usually like to keep it low-key. Some drinks, maybe head to the bar or a game of pool. Nothin’ too crazy.” He eyed you with a sly smirk.

"Oh, you play pool?" You asked with a glint of excitement in your eyes. 

Logan chuckled and nodded, taking note of the sudden excitement in your eyes. “Yeah, I’m damn good at it, too,” he boasted, a cocky grin spreading across his face. He leaned in a little closer to you. “You play?”

"I play for fun, so I'm not great. I'd be down to get some pointers from you if you're not busy," you offered with a smile. 

Logan could barely contain his excitement. You wanted him to teach you how to play pool? He’d be spending even more time with you, and it would give him the perfect opportunity to have you all to himself.

“Of course, I’ve got time, darlin’, I’ll give you all the pointers you need. I’ll make a pool shark outta you in no time,” he said, his voice low and suggestive.

You adored his charm, truly, you couldn’t help but giggle and nudge him with your arm. "Oh, Logan, you're something else," you laughed and patted his knee as you stood up in one swift motion. "C'mon! Wanna do it now?”

Logan chuckled at your comment and felt his heart leap as you patted his knee. He absolutely loved when you touched him. He stood up and smirked at you, his eyes filled with a wicked gleam. “Hell yes, let’s go. I can’t wait to show you all my techniques,” he said, his voice thick with innuendo.

"Hell YES, let's go! I got the beers," You said with excitement and yanked the six-pack from the table. You didn't take offense or think it weird when Logan flirted, he was usually like that with you, but every time he'd done so, it made you feel warm and fuzzy.

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm. Your excitement was contagious, and it only fueled his own desire to spend time with you even more. He gestured for you to lead the way, his eyes scanning your figure. “Lead the way, doll. I’m right behind ya,” he said with a smirk, following behind you with a cocky gait.

You couldn't hide the wide smile as you walked along with the beer in tow, weaving through the halls towards the rec room. You'd look back to make sure Logan was still following, feeling excitement take over your entire body, also feeling the fluttery feeling in your stomach. 

Logan followed you through the halls, his heart racing with every step, and he watched as you looked back at him, your smile making his stomach flutter. He kept his gaze fixated on you, his eyes tracing the curve of your hips as you walked ahead of him. He found himself wondering what it would be like to push you up against a wall and kiss you senseless… ‘What the hell is wrong with you? She won't see you that way, you're never gonna have a shot’. He quickly shook the thought from his head, reminding himself to keep it together.

You had found the room and pushed the doors open, turning on the lights as you waited for Logan. You let out a satisfied hum when you spotted the pool table and walked up to it, placing the beers off to the side as you started shifting through the pool cues. 

Logan followed you into the rec room, his eyes scanning over the pool table with a cocky grin. He sauntered over to you, his gaze fixated on your movements as you rummaged around the table for pool cues. He came up behind you, his body mere inches from yours, his breath hot against your neck as he spoke. “I hope you’re ready to get schooled, doll,” he teased, his voice low and hoarse.

As you found the pool chalk after you found a cue stick that worked to your liking, you then turned to Logan, shooting him a raised eyebrow. You weren't surprised by his cockiness but also felt rather playful, so you figured you'd play back. 

"You're not supposed to school me yet, Howlett, you gotta teach me!" You huffed, shooting him a faux frown.

Logan chuckled, his eyes roaming over your playful expression. He loved it when you got feisty with him. It only made him want you even more. He smirked, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh, trust me, doll, I plan to teach you. But first, I gotta show you some of my moves. Consider it a demonstration of just how good I really am.” He moved closer, his body practically pressed against yours as he reached around you to grab his cue stick.

When he did things like this, you couldn't help but blush a little, but when he reached over you to grab his pool cue, his body was so close to yours and you couldn't find the sass to give him right then, he was so close. He did this to get you flustered, but he wasn’t actually flirting with you to see where it led, was he?

Logan smirked as he noticed the blush growing on your face. He loved seeing how flustered he made you, how simple close proximity had you acting so shy. He couldn’t help but lean in even closer, his body pressing against yours. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. “You alright, doll? Suddenly losing your spunk?” he teased.

"Well you're the one distracting me on purpose, Wolvie," you huffed and slipped away from him, smiling wickedly as you walked around the table with your cue. 

Logan chuckled, his smirk growing wider as you slipped away from him. You were always so determined and feisty. He watched as you walked around the table. “Mmm, maybe I am. But I’m just teachin’ you how to focus under distractions.”He casually leaned against the side of the pool table, his gaze never leaving you.

"Oh is that it?" You laughed and watched him as he got ready to strike the formation. "Very good first lesson, truly.” 

Logan chuckled, his eyes locked onto yours. He loved your sassy comebacks. It only fueled his desire to prove himself to you. He smirked, his hand poised to strike. “Oh, doll, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. I’m just gettin’ started. Let’s see how well you deal under more distractions.” He leaned closer to you, his voice dipped low. “Because there’s a lot more where that came from.”

"Mhm, I already know that, but I think you're the one who's gonna have to pay attention to the table, bub," you teased as you watched from the side of the table. 

Logan chuckled, his ego a little bruised by your comment. He had to admit, he loved your boldness, you weren’t intimidated by him in the slightest. In fact, it seemed like you loved challenging him, which only made him want to try even harder to get under your skin. 

He smirked, his eyes darkened with a hint of arrogance. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, doll. I can focus just fine, even with a distraction as beautiful as you.”

You chuckled awkwardly, looking away as you reveled in the compliments he showered you with. You knew Logan flirted a lot, you loved it when he did, and you just figured he only flirted to tease you. He didn't know you had developed feelings for him, but you flirted in return, it was a fun back-and-forth you both seemed to enjoy.

"Pfft okay, bub, prove it. Get a ball in a pocket.”

Logan's heart thudded in his chest as he watched you react to his compliment. He loved seeing the way your cheeks flushed just slightly, how your eyes darted away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. He knew you were used to his flirting, but every time he did it, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, you'd begin to see how serious he really was behind it all.

The sight of you leaning against your cue, your eyebrows raised in challenge, sent a wave of desire through his body. You were so damn feisty, so damn beautiful. He had a hard time being as cool as he was when you were around, you just knew how to push all the right buttons. He chuckled and focused his gaze back on the table, took a step forward, his body moving gracefully as he lined up his shot.

You watched his body language as he leaned across the table the way he took aim with his cue, you made sure to watch, take note, see how he made it work. What you didn't expect was to really, really enjoy the sight of him over the pool table. 

Logan could feel your eyes on him as he leaned over the pool table, and could sense your gaze tracing every movement of his body. He felt a thrill run through him, loving the attention you were giving him. He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand, but he couldn’t ignore the way your eyes were burning into him. The way you were watching him so intently. It made it extremely hard to concentrate. He steadied himself, lining up the shot, but he couldn’t help but smirk at your obvious admiration.

You watched as he hesitated, and you couldn't hide the wide smile on your face. "What's wrong, Howlett? Distracted?" You teased as you leaned over to look at him with a wide smile. 

Logan couldn't help but chuckle as you leaned forward to tease him. Your proximity was driving him wild. He could practically feel your breath on his face. He looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Distracted? Me? Never. Just makin' sure you're  enjoyin’ the view, doll.”

"Mhm, sure, sure," you laughed, loving his banter. "Take the shot before I push you out of the way and go," you warned playfully.

Logan chuckled, his heart racing as you taunted him. You were really testing his limits, but he loved every second of it. 

He shook his head, his smirk widening. “Oh no ya don’t. You ain’t touchin’ this table till I’m done with it.” He steadied himself again, determined to prove himself. He aimed and took the shot, sinking the ball into the corner pocket with ease.

Your eyebrows raised as you watched him sink a ball into the pocket, you then hummed with a satisfied tone. "Wow, that's impressive, Logan, so, any tips I should know?" 

Logan couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as you praised his shot. Your words fueled his ego, and he loved showing off for you. He leaned on his cue, a smug smile on his face. “Mmm, tips? Sure, lemme see.” 

He walked over to you, his body close enough to yours that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. He placed a hand on your hip, positioning you in front of him.

Your face blushed immediately,  you bit your lip as he positioned you at the table, and you tried to focus on the table, but his body radiated so much warmth, and he was so close, that you had a tough time concentrating. 

"O-Okay, so like this?" 

Logan noticed the flush of color on your cheeks as he moved you into position, and he couldn't help but wear a cocky smile. He loved the way you reacted to his touch, so visibly flustered by his mere presence. He leaned in closer so his chest brushed against your back. “Yeah, doll, that's good. Keep your eye on the target.” His hand remained on your hip, his touch light yet firm as he guided you.

"Okay, so you sank a solid color, I got striped, sooooo," you drew out, "I'll try for the blue," you said and aimed your cue. You tried not to focus too much on Logan's hand on your hip, wondering just how good his hand would feel somewhere else.

Logan watched intently as you lined up your cue, trying to keep his thoughts from straying to other places. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, the way your breath hitched as he pressed closer to you. 

He leaned in, his chin hovering above your shoulder as he spoke, his voice low. “Yeah, try for the blue, doll. Keep it simple for now.” He tried to ignore the way your body felt against his, how badly he wanted to take you right on the pool table.

You nodded and took a deep breath in, then released the breath as soon as the cue hit the white ball, it glided across the table and into a fray of balls, hitting the blue-striped one against the side of the table, and sure enough, it fell into the corner pocket. 

"YES!” You shouted as you raised a fist into the air. 

Logan chuckled, a smile spreading across his face as he watched the blue ball fall into the corner pocket. He couldn't help but feel proud of you, watching your excitement as you celebrated your accomplishment.

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above the shell of your ear. “Mmm, good job, doll. That was a solid shot.” His hand on your hip tightened, pulling you closer to him, his chest pressed against your back.

"Wolvie, you can... let me go if you want... or not... your choice," you hummed softly, your face turning slightly to look at him over your shoulder. You felt so flustered, he’d never been this bold before, being so close to you like this, his hands pressed against you in such a way…

Logan's heart thumped in his chest as he heard your soft voice, his body practically humming with want. His hand on your hip tightened, pulling you closer against him. He let out a soft chuckle, his breath hot against your ear. “Do you want me to let go?” His voice was low, dripping with desire. He knew he was walking a fine line, but he couldn't bring himself to pull back.

"I... not really," you confessed softly.

Logan’s breath hitched in his chest as he heard your confession, your voice barely above a whisper. It was all he needed to hear, and all he could do was let out a low groan, his hand on your hip pulling you closer. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

"I haven't done anything," you said with a small chuckle. "How do I drive you crazy?” you asked, knowing very well what you did, and how you would flirt relentlessly with him, wanting to get a reaction. 

Logan chuckled at your response, his hand tracing lazy circles on your hip. “Oh, doll, believe me, you don’t have to do anything. Just your presence, your scent, the sound of your voice…” He leaned in, his lips hovering just above the skin of your neck, his voice dark and rough. “It’s all enough to drive a man mad.”

"If I knew any better, Wolvie, I'd say you have a thing for me..." You said with a gentle tone, your face close to his as you stared over at him, your expression filled with hesitance and desire. 

Logan let out a soft laugh, his hand on your hip gripping you tighter. “And what if I do? What if I’ve been wanting you, desiring you, practically since we met?” His gaze darkened, his eyes locked onto yours. There was no denying the desire he felt for you, he had been fighting it for ages now. But having you this close, hearing your words, it made it damn near impossible to resist.

"Then I'd say you're a fool for not letting me know sooner," you huffed, almost glaring at him. "Here I thought I was dumb to flirt with you, and you never made a move, so I thought you weren't interested.”

Logan shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, I have been interested, more than interested. I just didn’t think you’d be interested in a damaged, pissed-off man like me. But trust me, I haven’t been able to get you outta my head since I laid eyes on you.”

"Hey, you're not all of that," you replied sternly. "You're more than that, Logan. Why’d you think that's all there is to you?”

Logan looked down at you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and hesitation. He knew you saw more in him than just his flaws and baggage, but it was hard for him to see past it all himself. 

“I’ve done a lot of bad things, things I’m not proud of. I just thought someone like you wouldn’t be interested in someone like me. I thought it was better to just admire you from afar than risk ruining something by being my usual, broken self.”

"You aren't ruining a damn thing, Logan, come on," you said and fully turned to face him, looking into his deep eyes. "Why do you think I always wanna be near you? Play pool, and drink beer, I like you, Logan. You're a damn angry man, but I like it, there's more under all that.”

Logan's heart thudded in his chest as you faced him, your words piercing straight to his soul. He couldn’t believe that you truly wanted him, despite all the bad he thought he was. His hand on your hip moved up to cup your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. 

“Damn it,  you really think there’s more to me, don’t you?”

"Hell yeah I do," you chuckled with a large smile, closing your eyes once his hand cupped your cheek. "You think I'd prefer to be around you if I didn't? Everyone told me how much of a hot head you were, but I don't care what others say, I found out for myself that there's more to you than that. I’m never wrong.”

He couldn’t resist your sweet temptations any longer, he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to, not with you being so close to him, scrambling his senses. He pulled your face close to his and captured your lips in a desperate kiss, one that conveyed the desire he had for you, wanting to taste you. 

You accepted your fate and gasped against his lips, melted against his touch, incredibly happy that this was finally happening. Your hand was placed against his cheek and you kissed him back, the passion and intensity sparking between you both. 

The feel of your lips against his was everything he had dreamed of. He let out a low moan as he deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out to taste you, his hand on your hip pulling you impossibly closer to his body. He broke the kiss only long enough to gasp out, "You have no idea how long I've wanted this. Wanted you.”

You couldn’t hide the moan against his mouth once his tongue glided across your lips, igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach. When he pulled away, he left you breathless and smiling like an idiot.  "I... me too, Logan," you whispered. 

Seeing you breathless and smiling up at him, it filled Logan with a primal sense of satisfaction. Knowing that he was the one making you feel this way felt so damn good. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath coming in ragged bursts. "You don't know how many times I've fantasized about this, doll. To have you this close to me, in my arms. It feels like a damn dream.”

"Mhm yeah? You fantasized about me?" you asked curiously, a flirtatious tone in your voice. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him, smiling up at him sweetly. 

The sound of your flirtatious tone sent a shiver down Logan's spine. He could feel his body responding to your touch, to the way you were looking up at him. He let out a deep chuckle, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Oh, you have no idea. I've fantasized about you in ways you can't even imagine." He leaned in, his lips brushing against the skin of your neck. "And I plan on making every one of them come true.”

You looked at him in surprise, your eyes wide and your cheeks beet red. "O-Oh, really? Logan, I had no idea you were such a dirty dog," you teased, trying to lighten the mood. You got nervous whenever someone spoke in such a flirtatious way, but NO ONE had ever spoken to you like Logan had. 

Logan chuckled at your surprise, loving the way your cheeks flushed at his words. He loved the way he could make you blush, and how easily he could get a reaction out of you. “Oh, I’m a damn dirty dog, alright,” he whispered against your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. He pulled you even closer, his body flush against yours. “And I plan on proving it to you damn soon, if you’re up for it, that is.”

Here you were, pressed against the pool table and Logan’s broad frame, staring into his eyes, not believing a word coming from his mouth was real. You had to have been dreaming… He was asking for your permission to prove himself, your thighs pressed together as if you could hide the desire growing between them. 

He took a slight step back to give you some space, a feral look in his eyes as he reached out and grabbed your wrist, holding you in place. "No," he said, his voice dripping with need. "Don’t hide that from me, I can…smell just how wet you are, princess. Your room, now.”

You made the snap decision right then and there, your entire resolve snapping, being taken over. “Yes, sir…” you replied and grabbed his hand, pulling him quickly to your room. 

When you both reached your room, Logan pushed the door closed behind him as he pulled you back into his grasp, pushing you against the door while almost lifting you from the floor. His lips devoured you, biting and licking at your lips, trailing down to your jaw. All you could do was be at his mercy, he was so strong, and you could feel that primal urge taking over. He couldn’t think straight. The sight of you, your flirting all day, your smell, everything about you set him off and pushed him to the edge. His hands moved up your body, gripped your shirt, and roughly yanked it off of you. He was like a different person now that it was just you two, and you allowed yourself to be the receiving end of his demands because all you wanted right now was him.

His hands slid across your skin as he kept you pushed against the wall, one hand slowly reached down to grab your leg and lift it to his waist. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing his hips against yours, prodding you with the obvious erection in his jeans. Logan couldn’t stop himself from sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you against him as he rubbed against your clothed sex, releasing a guttural sound from his lips.

All while you were helpless beneath him, feeling how this incredibly strong man could hoist you up, move you, pin you as if you weighed nothing. You were at his mercy and you were loving every moment of it. “Logan, please, need you, no teasing,” you whined, feeling his mouth trail down to your neck, kissing and biting you there, slowly making his way back up to your jaw.

“Yeah? You don’t want me to take my time with you?” He laughed, nuzzling your throat with his nose before he brought down his mouth to you again. 

You gasped and moaned his name over and over, trying to get him to stop being such a tease, but he wasn’t letting up, not until he wanted to. Logan hummed against your throat, tasting your skin, smelling your scent all over him, the feeling vibrated against your throat which only sent a jolt of need through you. 

He adjusted and held you up with one arm, cradling you against him and the wall as he slipped his other hand between you both, feeling just how soaked you were through your shorts. “Damn, princess, my nose never lies, you are soaked.” He laughed at the amount that was already on his fingers, so he decided it was high time to feel you. He moved through the shorts and pushed aside the underwear, plunging two fingers deep within you, curling into your cunt. 

Your body tensed as your nails dug deep into his shoulder, finally feeling a sliver of what he could offer to you, and you were already at his mercy. “Holy shit, Logan,” you whined, your voice cracking as your hips instinctively rolled against his hand. 

“Mhm, that’s right, darlin’, ride my fingers and show me how much you want it,” he said gruffly beside your ear, smiling that cocky-ass smile. He managed to press his thumb against your clit and rub, causing your body to jerk beneath him, and it only fueled him to continue. 

You did as he asked, riding his fingers as best as you could from this angle as he assisted you, pumping them in and out, curling deep to reach the spot you desired. Logan watched your face contorted with pleasure, your juices coating his hand as you needily moved against him. He watched with intensity, feeling his own excitement staining the front of his jeans as he added a third finger into the mix, stretching you out.

“Oh, fuck, Logan, feels so good…” You moaned out, and your head fell forward, resting on his shoulder as he continued to hold you in place. Your body felt heavy as he held you there, but you wanted to feel him properly, you needed him. “Logan, bed, please...”

Logan growled as you begged, he loved hearing your voice, but saying his name like this was too much to handle right now. He slid his fingers out of you, your body reacted as expected and you cried out, wanting the emptiness to be filled again, but you had no time to argue. His hands picked you up with ease and walked you to your bed, then he set you down as your body bounced from the drop, his eyes drinking you in while his hands worked quickly at your shorts. 

As he leaned over your body, he couldn’t help but place such gentle kisses down your body, his hands immediately discarding your shirt from over your head as he kissed you over and over again, but you eagerly helped yourself out of the bra you had on. His tongue was tracing the dips and curves of your skin as he kissed lower, then he reached your breasts and began to suck on one of your nipples, his hands kneading into your soft flesh as his teeth and tongue gently played with your sensitive bud.

When you responded so well to his touch, he couldn’t hide the growl that pulsated against your skin, pleased with your responses beneath him. After paying some attention to your other breast, Logan began to trail more kisses down your body, his lips coasting against the dips toward your belly and then stopped just above your center. Your breathing picked up, your chest rising and falling faster as you watched him with wide eyes. He slowly swiped his tongue through your wet folds and then teased you a little with his tongue against your clit. 

He pulled back a little to stare up at you, smiling. “You taste so fucking good,” he murmured against you, his voice hoarse with desire.

Your body responded so well to his tongue between your legs that you had to stop yourself from squeezing your thighs against his head, but his large hands were spreading them in an instant, keeping you still. “Fuck, Logan, that feels so good-” You gasped as he sucked a little stronger than you expected, and the moan that came from your lips sounded so divine.

Logan continued to eat you out, his tongue pressing into you with relentless enthusiasm. He curled his long tongue within you, two of his fingers dipping inside to add to the pleasure.

“Keep doing that and I’m not lasting long,” you warned, your tone sounding whiney and pitiful.

He stopped eating you out for a moment and stood up, his eyes burning with desire as he quickly did away with his jeans. You could see the obvious tent forming in front, his hard on straining against the fabric before he slid them down quickly. “Fuck, I need to be inside you now,” he growled, allowing his hard cock to pop out from his boxers.

As you looked down to see his length finally free from its restrictive confines, your eyes were glued to it, and your mouth watered. You wanted to have him in your mouth more than you cared to admit. “Logan, please, I need you inside of me…” you said, almost in a whisper. 

He crawled back onto the bed, his eyes locked with yours as he positioned himself between your legs. Logan slowly entered you, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to his size. 

“You're so fucking tight,” he groaned, then started to move his hips in slow, deep thrusts.

"Damn, you're so thick," you groaned, feeling the intense pleasure roll over you as you smiled and leaned your head back. "Oh fuck, Logan.”

He smirked at your praise, his throbbing cock filling you completely with each thrust. He reached out and grabbed your hips, pulling you into him even deeper. “You like that, don't you? You fucking love it.” He started thrusting harder, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your face as you took him. 

"Ahhh –fuck, yes I do!" You whined, clenching your teeth together as you melted into his touch, your moans were too loud now, there was no way you could control yourself anymore. "Feels so good.”

He growled, something he did fairly often around you, his hips slammed into yours now. “You want more? You want me to make you scream my name? Fine.” His thrusts became wilder, more erratic as his fingers dug into your skin and he took you roughly, mercilessly. “Say it, baby girl.”

"Yes! Logan, oh my god, Logan!" You cried out, moaning with each hard thrust he pushed against your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper.

His grunts of pleasure echoed in the room as he fucked you harder, his cock reaching deeper into your core. Hearing his name on your lips only made him want to lose himself within you. He groaned louder, feeling your walls tighten around him, so he gripped your hips even tighter, his fingers leaving marks on your skin. “Say it again…”

"Logan!" You moaned out again, wanting him to know you only wanted to scream his name ever again. "Oh god," you cried out, holding onto him as you wrapped your arms around his neck to anchor yourself to him. 

His eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of primal lust and the slightest hint of a deeper emotion. "I like hearing you say my name," he hummed before his lips crashed onto yours. His tongue dominated your mouth, demanding submission as his thrusts became more desperate and needy.

You can't help but stare up at him, slack-jawed from the pleasure, moans, cries, and whimpers stumbling from your mouth in a desperate attempt to talk. "Y-Yes," you said simply as your eyes rolled back slightly. "You're fucking me so good, Logan.”

His adrenaline spiked at the sound of his name coming from your lips while he fucked you. "Damn right, I am." He grinned down at you, feral and satisfied. “You like it when I make sure to remind you who you belong to?” He asked roughly. 

Logan's eyes rolled back in his head as he lost himself in the sensation of being inside you. He pounded into you relentlessly, the bed creaking and shaking with the force of his thrusts. His claws extended and dug into the mattress on either side of your head as he held himself above you, he'd take care of that later, all he could focus on was how good you felt around him. He increased his pace, his hips snapped forward as he buried himself inside you over and over. His breathing grew heavier and his face contorted with pleasure. He leaned down and bit down on your collarbone, his teeth sinking into your flesh.

You flinched slightly when his claws came out, but you still clung to him, not afraid of the animal that threatened to release. He continued to keep going, but you looked up at him in a haze and bit your lip before speaking. "Logan, can you....”

Logan slowed down, retracted his claws, and looked down at you, his expression filled with concern as he leaned down and brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "What is it? Did I hurt you?”

"No, you didn't hurt me, I was actually going to ask if... you'd put your hand around my throat as you fucked me?” What kind of request was that for your first time with him?! You felt crazy for even asking, but it was something you thought about for a while now, though you wouldn’t confess that right away.

Logan's pupils dilated with desire at your words. He reached up and wrapped his hand around your throat, his thumb resting lightly against your pulse. He began to move inside you again, his pace slow and measured, his eyes locked onto yours. "Like that?”

"Y-yes, like that," you smiled shyly and closed your eyes as his thrust pushed deeper into you. "Just like that.”

Logan tightened his hand around your throat as he increased his pace, his hips snapping forward as he buried himself inside you over and over, his breathing grew heavier, and his face contorted with pleasure. He leaned down and bit down on your collarbone, his teeth sinking into your flesh. He suddenly growled possessively against your skin as he felt you tensing beneath him. He could sense that you were close, and he wanted to push you over the edge right along with him. He tightened his hand around your throat further and increased his pace, his hips slamming into yours with brutal force.

"Yes! Like that! Just like that, oh my god!" You cried out and held onto his arms, your nails digging further into his skin as they caused the flesh beneath them to tear open. 

He let out a deep, guttural growl as you cut him open, his skin repairing the second you caused any damage.  Logan's response to your cries was a feral snarl as he felt his control slipping. He released your throat and sat up, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. He pounded into you with reckless abandon, his fingers digging into the mattress as he chased his release. "Fuck, I'm so close…”

“L-Logan, please,” you begged, “come inside of me, need you to fill me up!” you cried out, the sound coming from your throat was broken, strangled, your voice taken as he pounded into you.

Logan’s muscles strained as he continued to thrust into you, his movements became erratic and desperate as he felt himself reaching the edge, and his breaths were ragged as he could feel the pressure building within him. Suddenly, he let out a deafening growl as he finally succumbed to the pressure, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he came hard, his hot seed inside of you as he continued to thrust through his own release. His body convulsed, and his breathing was hot and heavy against your skin as you finally let your body go, the crash of pleasure hitting your body hard as your back was arched, your body and hips snapped up against him, his thrusts working you through your own orgasm.

As you clung to his body, your arms wrapped around his neck as your thighs squeezed him, pulling him deeper inside of you as Logan sighed, resting his head on your shoulder for a moment just to bask in the afterglow. Logan remained buried inside you, his arms wrapped around your legs as he tried to catch his breath. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and feeling completely sated for the first time in a long while. "Fuck, that was intense.”

You couldn't speak, you lay there with Logan's heavy body on top of you as you panted in short breaths, hoping to lay here as long as you could while you stared up at him with a thin sheen of sweat coating your face. He was a natural heater for you, his body pressed over yours as he brought a gentle kiss to your temple while you gently rubbed his arm, then you brought your hand to his face and rubbed your thumb against his cheek. 

Logan nuzzled into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed briefly. He then looked up at you, his expression tender. "You should stay the night here in my room.” His hands squeezed your thigh gently as he reached down. "Unless you have somewhere else to be, of course. Unless...you don't want to.” He hesitated, his grip on your thigh tightening slightly. "I mean, if you have other plans, I get it.”

That confidence and cockiness he had earlier was gone, it was as if he had changed into another person, one that was much more vulnerable now that you two were alone in your own world. “Logan, I'd love to stay the night with you,” you said softly, your hand reaching up to cup his face gently. “I always wished you woulda asked me.” You had a playful tone as you spoke, lightening the mood a little.

He pulled out of you slowly, his gaze never leaving yours as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your belly, then he wrapped his arms around you, holding you firmly against him as he settled beside you. “Mhm good, I don't want you to leave yet.”

You lay in his grasp, your half-lidded eyes staring into his as you reached a hand to brush your fingers through his hair, finally able to feel the closeness you’d wanted for so long. Your eyes closed, breathing in your mixed scents as you let out a small, satisfied hum. “You know, Charles is right about one thing, I do get distracted by you,” you muttered softly. 

The way you whispered this, the way you looked into his eyes as you spoke, your expression filled with such adoration, it pulled at him more than he would ever care to admit. His gaze softened as he placed his hand on your chin, his thumb gently sliding across your bottom lip as his eyes darted to your lips. “Guess Charles ain’t too daft after all,” he teased. Logan let out a long exhale, his arms tightened around you as you nuzzled further against him.

You let out a small chuckle as you looked up at him, your eyes glued to him as you got to really look at his face so close, seeing his features in a different light. “You know, I kinda like soft Logan, and not in a degrading way, mind you, just nice to see you let your guard down, showing me how you feel.”

His chest tightened at your words, but not in an uncomfortable way, he understood exactly what you meant, but he wouldn’t deny the sense of comfort it gave him to know that he could be vulnerable around you. 

“Mhm, I ain’t used to showin’ that side of me, but here, baby girl, let me show you how I really feel,” he hummed, pulling you into a deep kiss, his need for you consuming him. 

[justmymindandstuff]

Can you do Aemond x f!reader? And the reader being a lot like Helaena (I'm projecting lol, I want an autistic reader basically). Just fluff between them, maybe newlywed?

Learn to Love you - Aemond Targaryen x WifeReader

summary: Aemond tries to understand his new wife, but you are too much like his sister. He can't get through to you. One evening he tries it with direct confrontation and is rewarded with a glimpse of you and hope for the future. After this evening his wife is not a complete stranger anymore.

words: 2.818

warnings: softAemond, a bit angst

a/n: based on the request above. Unfortunately it didn't turn out quite as fluffy as it should. I hope you like it anyway :) I'm not autistic myself and don't want to hurt any feelings with the portrayl of the Reader. I based her on Helaena in the show.

Gif not mine// English is not my first language// no use of Y/N // AO3 // not proofread// requests are open

Aemond moves quietly through the halls of his home. The Red Keep slowly goes calm. The sun has already set, and most have retreated to their private chambers. Aemond is tired and longs for his own chambers and his bed. He had spent the evening a little longer than usual talking with Ser Criston. The sworn shield of his mother and he had trained together in the courtyard in the morning. Criston had discussed a few improvements with him. If his sore muscles would allow it, Aemond would try out the improvements tomorrow. But before he can retreat for the evening, he still has a task to complete. He still has his evening visit with his wife to attend to.

His marriage is not really how he imagine it would be. It's been almost a week since you two got married. You've known each other for 10 days. When you arrived at the Red Keep and he saw you for the first time, he had been relieved. A pretty face and a friendly smile had greeted him. Aemond tried to get to know you and realized that you are more than just a pretty face. You are nice, polite, smart, well-read, but strange. Often you drift off into your own world. Captured by your thoughts. You will be in a place where Aemond cannot follow you. And he quickly realized that you can't stand it when he touches you.

During your wedding ceremony, you didn't touch him more than necessary. The touch of your lips almost triggered a panic attack for you. You tore your hand away from his. Aemond would have liked to hold your hand a little longer. On this night, he did not dare to lay with you. This didn´t change over the last week, so you are still a maiden. Not that Aemond has told anyone, and as far as he knows, you haven't said a word either.

Maybe it's because he is a stranger to you? Aemond doesn't really know what to do. He doesn't like the situation. But he also doesn't know how he should change it. His usual solution, Vhagar, will definitely not work here.

He tried to seek advice from his brother. I don't know. With Helaena, it was different. I knew her well before we got married. For your wife, you are just a stranger. Aegon is right but Aemond didn't know how to change that.

So he went to his mother. Give her time to get to know you.

Both pieces of advice only led him to visit you every evening and try to get to know you. However, you mostly sit there in awkward silence and do not look at each other. You still feel uncomfortable in his presence he knows this.

Arriving at your chambers, he takes a deep breath once more and steps inside. The room is still lit by a few candles. He closes the door and watches as you pace restlessly in front of the fireplace.

"You are later than usual." you say, stopping in your movement. Now that Aemond is here, the unrest fades a little. Still, it bothers you that he doesn't come to visit you during his usual time frame. It's actually almost time for you to call your maids so they can help you change and you can go to sleep.

“I apologize for being late.” Aemond says even though he doesn't understand why it bothers you. Have you already gotten your hopes up that he won't come today? You look at him for a moment and then nod.

Without saying a word, you sit down in the armchair by the fireplace where you sit every evening. Aemond takes off his sword belt and places his weapon next to the door. He had considered that it might make you nervous that he carries a sword with him. So he puts down his weapon every evening before he sits down with you. Fortunately, you know nothing about the dagger in his boot.

Aemond even had a dagger made for you as a wedding gift. A beautiful weapon, with a gracefully curved handle and on the blade, just before the hilt begins, is a small dragon embossed that is inspired by Vhagar. Aemond hasn't had the chance to give you this gift yet. He knows that you need to get to know him better in order to understand the thought behind it. You should always be able to protect yourself, in case he might not be able to someday.

He shakes off the thought and sits down in the other armchair next to the fireplace. You don't look at him, but into the flames. Just like every evening. When you start to speak in a quiet voice he almost flinches.

"Why are you later than usual?" your hands are playing with the fabric of your skirt. You haven't changed for the night yet. You´re never when Aemond comes into your chambers. Even your hair is still braided into tight braids. Aemond feels like a visitor in his wife's chambers.

"I discussed my training with Ser Criston. There were a few problems this morning," he replies honestly.

Your face shows no reaction as you respond. “Are you hurt?”

Are you worried about him? No. Why should you? He is a stranger to you. But he still worries about you even though you are a stranger to him. After all, you are married. He wished he could read your thoughts.

"No, I am not hurt. Even though I don't really want it, Ser Criston is always a bit cautious during training with me." he is trying to ease your worries. If you are worried. Again, he tries to read your expression, but your face remains still. Your only reaction is that you turn your head to look at him. The fire in the fireplace casts warm light on your profile and your skin shimmers almost like gold. Once again, Aemond notices how beautiful you are. You look at him, and your gaze prompts Aemond to continue speaking. "I don't want him to hold back because, in a serious situation, my opponent won't hold back either."

"Which serious situation?" you still ask in a quiet voice.

"I don't know. If my family is in danger." and then he adds quietly. "If you are in danger."

The corner of your mouth twitch slightly and you almost smile. Then you turn your gaze away again and look into the fireplace. Aemond suppresses the urge to reach for your hand in your lap. Silence spreads again between you. The uncomfortable silence causes a hot burning sensation in Aemond's gut. Still, he can't take his eyes off you. You seem a bit sad. He decides that it can't go on like this. Aemond has to swallow and gathers all his courage to speak again.

"You are not happy."

This time you turn not just your head towards him but your whole body. He is surprised when your gaze meets him and you look directly into his eyes. Rarely can you hold his gaze. Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you think. It takes a moment before you respond.

"No. No, it's just that it's hard for me. My father brought me here, and this is a strange place for me. All the people around me are strangers. I miss my family and my home. Everything I knew was taken away from me. I was used to everything at home. I had my routines and everything. It's hard for me to adjust to all these new things around me. But it doesn't have anything to do with you."

Aemond is surprised by your words and needs a moment to truly understand what you have said. Guilt overwhelms him. It is his fault that you were kidnapped from your home. Because you had to marry him.

"I'm sorry," he says. Now it is him who cannot withstand your gaze and he looks at his hands.

"I don't blame you." once again, you surprise him your voice is now a bit firmer. "It wasn't your decision to marry me. Just as it was not my decision to marry you. That was agreed upon by our parents." you sigh. "You are not happy either. And that is my fault. I know that I'm weird."

"No! I don't find you weird."

You laugh softly and at the sound Aemond's heart skips a beat. He is looking at you again, he wants to hear you laugh once more.

"You don't have to lie."

"I am not lying. I don't find you weird. You remind me of my sister."

Your eyes start to shine. "Hel. I like her a lot."

He feels a slight tug at his heart. Aemond knows that you usually spend your days in the company of his sister Helaena. He has seen both of you walking in the garden a few times or engrossed in conversation while eating. He would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous of Helaena.

"Yes, I know. Do you spend a lot of time with her?“

You nod. "Yes. I enjoy being with her." "What are you doing all day?"“ Aemond is clinging to every strand. Everything is better than this uncomfortable silence between you.

"Oh, very different things. Sometimes we read together, or she explains something to me about insects. Sometimes I read one of my poems to her. Or I’ll give her one to read."

Aemond is captivated by the sparkle in your eyes.

"You write poetry?" he asks, annoyed with himself for not knowing this about you, but Hel did. Your cheeks are slightly turning red, and for the first time, Aemond feels like he can read your emotions from your face.

"Yes, among with other things. I also enjoy reading poetry. My favorite poet is Marcus Hill. He writes incredibly well. My poems are not even close to being that good. But I don't just write poems, I also write short stories. This helps me organize my thoughts better. But I like most writing poems.“ you speak a little faster than usual, which reveals your excitement to Aemond. He can't help but smile at the sight. Now that you are passionately talking about your interests, you are even more beautiful.

Suddenly you jump up from your chair. Aemond's hand instinctively goes to where his sword's hilt usually is. In the next second, it becomes clear to him that there is no danger, and he relaxes again. You didn't notice anything because you turned away immediately and took a few uncertain steps through your chamber before turning back to him. Uncertain, your hands begin to play with the fabric of your skirt. You take a deep breath and then search for his gaze for a second before looking away again. Aemond leans forward a bit, tense with anticipation. Finally you start to speak. "Would you like to… I mean just if you want? You don't have to." You stop yourself, take a deep breath and gathering your thoughts. "Would you like to read one of my poems?" you ask softly.

Aemonds heart skips a beat and a pleasant warmth spreads within him. "Yes. Very gladly."

You nod, turn back around, and walk to your nightstand. You pick up a book with a leather cover and open it. Aemond notices from his seat that it is stuffed with written pages, and almost every book page is filled with your neat handwriting. You rummage through the loose papers and then pull out a page before you close the book again and carefully place it back in its spot. You are coming back to him.

"I wrote this on the day of our wedding," you say, handing him the sheet of paper. In that moment, your fingertips brush against his. The touch is so fleeting that Aemond is not sure if he might have just imagined it.

He turns his gaze away from you and directs it to the folded paper between his fingers. He wants to open it to read your poem, but before he has really moved his fingers, your hand shoots forward and holds his hand firmly. Aemond skin tingles and he lightly closes his hands around yours.

"No. Please don't read it here. That would be too embarrassing for me. Please read it later and tell me tomorrow what you thought," you say quickly. Aemond looks up again and directly into your eyes. He saw you that close for the last time on your wedding day in the sept. A shiver runs through his body and he can only nod. You also nod and allow him to briefly squeeze your hand before you pull back and sit down again in your chair opposite to him. He already misses the feeling of your soft skin under his fingers.

Aemond folds the paper with your face completely again and then puts it in the pocket of his shirt. Suddenly, this piece of paper is his most precious possession.

"Now you know something about me." you notice. Aemond can't gauge whether the fact bothers you or not. He hopes it  doesn´t. Before he can ask, you are already speaking again. "You like sword training. I could watch your training?” you suggest.

Aemond thinks about the training courtyard. About the loud clashing of the swords striking against each other, the sreams of the knights, the swearing and the rough manner of speaking among men. And then he thinks of you, his gentle, fragile wife. Sometimes the gentle background music that plays during dinner is too loud for you. You would hate it.

"No, this is not a suitable environment for you, my Lady. The men do not know how to behave in the presence of a princess." he explains.

"Oh."

Aemond sees how you stiffen a little again and turn your gaze back towards the fireplace. The fire is almost out. Aemond is afraid that the closeness he has found today will slip away from him again, and as a result, he starts to speak a bit too quickly.

"But if you want, I can join you on your walk tomorrow?" he is momentarily afraid that this will disrupt your routine, but you look at him again.

"Yes, that would be nice. I always take a stroll through Queen Alyssa's garden after afternoon tea."

Aemond must suppress a smile. He is, of course, well informed about your daily routine. Even though he hasn't really been able to talk to you until today, he has always kept a close eye on what you're doing. "I am happy to be allow to accompany you." his gaze falls on your hands folded in your lap, and once again, longing pulls at him to reach for your hand. "When we go for a walk. Would you allow me to hold your hand then? I know you don't like my touches. But...

"No. It's not your touches that I don't like.I don't like touches from anyone, regardless of who." you clarify things quickly. "But yes. I will allow it. I know about it know, so I can prepare myself for it. If I´m prepared I can hold your hand.”

This time Aemond cannot suppress his smile. A pleasant anticipation for tomorrow fills him and he feels as if he has made a significant step forward in his marriage today.

The ringing of the bell in the great sept makes you both flinch. Startled you look out the window, then you get up and walk through your rooms. "I have to call my maids and go to bed.It's already past my usual time."

Aemond quickly gets up as well and nods. Bad conscience about the fact that he disrupted your routine today weighs on him. He turns to the door and goes to his sword belt to put it back on. As he just fastens the buckle and turns to leave, you turn to him once more.

"Thank you, Aemond. Our conversation was good for me. I enjoyed it very much. I´m looking forward to our walk tomorrow and I'm curious to hear what you think of my poem."  and then you smile directly at him for the first time.

His heart starts to race immediately, and Aemond is sure that he has just fallen in love. Unconsciously, he places his hand on the pocket where he has put your poem. Then he returns your smile.

"Yes, I also enjoyed it very much. Good night, my Lady Wife. I will see you tomorrow."

"Good night, my Lord Husband.” you respond still with a smile on your face.  

Aemond nods briefly and then leaves your chambers. His steps are light, and he intends to speak with the steward first thing tomorrow morning so that he can arrange for the poet Marcus Hill to be invited to the Red Keep as soon as possible.

[tojisun]

simon ghost riley x fem reader

!! smut - minors dni; extended foreplay teehee (fingering); mentioned switching

simon hums, the sound rumbling from the base of his throat. you startle, your eyes ripping open and you swivel to turn to him, forgetting, for a moment, that he's here.

that he's been watching you.

he smirks like he noticed; knowing him, he definitely did. still, it makes you self-conscious and you go to shut your legs close, hoping to shield yourself from his gaze, but simon moves so quickly, his warm palm landing on the inside of your thigh to push it down.

"no-"

"shh," he says. "y've got nothin' to be shy about, baby." he grins, all dangerous and mean. “we both know you've long crossed that bridge.”

you huff, rolling your eyes even when you let yourself be manhandled to the position he wants you in—spread open for him; presented for him.

he rumbles in pleasure, eyes darkening in rippling desire.

"c'mon, pretty, girl," simon murmurs, his fingers tickling the sensitive expanse of your inner thigh, making you tremble. "y'were just showing me how you play w'yourself when i'm not around."

the reminder makes you hiccup, shyness creeping up in slow drawls. you feel warmth filling up your cheeks and you duck down, hiding away from the intensity of his honeyed eyes.

simon chuckles. “such a doll, aren’ya?”

you ignore him and the way his words make your face burn, choosing instead to return to what you were doing—your fingers trembling as they begin to tease along your folds again. the previous sensitivity that you were riding off of has petered away but it was so easy to re-spark it, especially now that simon is touching you. the loose hold he has on your ankle makes your skin thrum and you use the hyperawareness to ramp up the flicking desire into an explosion of untethering euphoria.

your fingers aren’t enough—simon made sure, after all, that your body can only ever cum because of him—but he’s so close. he’s watching you and you take advantage of the attention.

you moan his name, a breathy little thing that rasps itself out from the base of your throat.

“si- si-!”

there is something doctored in the way you mewl, but who can blame you? yes, you’re giving him something to watch, but you’re desperate for more. you try your best to rile him up because you’re desperate for his own fingers or, and this one truly makes your breath hitch, his cock.

simon’s beautiful, beautiful cock.

god, the way it curves. the way the head is pink because simon’s so pale all over. the way his pre- beads like pretty pearls, always has you lolingl your tongue out to catch them before they drip. the way his veins surround the expanse of his girth, drawing his cock to look so macho, especially when you close your first around it.

“fuck-!”

thinking about simon’s cock makes you even wetter, slick gathering between your fingers. you punch the length of them as deep as they can go, crooking them and spreading them apart as your orgasm begins to build, pooling in your belly, making your toes curl.

“simon, please!”

your moans are more honest this time. more truthful despite the pitch that they’ve taken.

“need y’r cock. need y- no!”

you tear your eyes open—you didn’t realize you’ve even shut them tight—at the feeling of simon’s fist closing around your wrist, holding it steady, making you freeze. the peak of your orgasm crumbles, your legs trembling at the feeling of having it be ripped from you.

“no!” you cry again, thrashing. “why’d you stop me?! wanna cum, please, baby? wanna cum, please!”

“shit, lovie,” simon rasps out, looking dishevelled himself. your eyes flick down to his waist and you realize, with a coo, that he’s taken his cock out to palm himself while watching you.

you bite down a smile at the realization—you’ve won.

“y’almost made me jealous of y’r pretty fingers,” he croaks. you track the way his chest heaves, his muscles and his pecs rippling underneath the tight shirt he’s wearing. “lemme fuck you now, yeah, baby? y’want that?”

you lick your bottom lip, trilling to yourself when simon’s sharp eyes zone in on the action and tracking it with vivid intensity.

you hum then, teasing, and you shake his hold off of your wrist which simon easily acquiesces. he watches as you pull your fingers out of your cunt, slow and deliberate, before presenting them to him, the length of them having a thin sheen because of your slick.

“lick f’r me?” is what you reply to him instead.

simon full body trembles before circling your wrist for the second time today. this time, though, with a different purpose. he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he drops his jaw open to take your fingers in.

you mewl at the same time that simon groans and, you wonder, if you can last another round after this. maybe you’d bring out your strap then.