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wake up remedy

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ smut, fingering, mirror bathroom sex, unprotected sex

word count: 1,083

NOTE: this is my first time ever writing smut so I'm sorry for it being so short! I hope you all enjoy it!

-

As your little cousin was opening the last gift of the night, you started to feel a bit tired and thought it’d be best to go to the restroom and wash your face a bit in hopes you’ll wake yourself up. 

*knock knock* 

“I’m almost done!” you yell out while drying your hands. 

“it’s me, let me in” 

You pause when you recognize it’s your boyfriend's voice. Jungkook. 

You turned the knob to the bathroom door but as you were about to open your mouth to speak Jungkook put his hand over your lips and walked in, locking the door behind him. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion while trying to remove his hand from your face. 

“What is up with you?” You quickly say once he removed his hand. 

“I noticed you looked tired and thought I could help” 

His voice was raspy and full of hunger. You didn’t know where this was coming from but you sure weren’t about to complain. 

“How exactly will you be able to help?” you question making his eyes trail from yours down to your rosy pink lips.

His face continued coming closer to yours, his breath consistently getting hotter at the bridge of your nose. 

That’s when he finally connected both of your lips together. 

God he tastes so fucking good.

His hands were kept still on your waist but you needed him everywhere. You took the initiative and grabbed his right hand placing it on your left boob. 

You could feel a side smirk crawl on his face as he began applying pressure on your breast causing you to let out a small moan. 

“Don’t forget where we are baby,” he says rapidly not wanting to disconnect his lips from yours.

After what felt like 5 minutes of a very heated make-out session, Jungkook shifted your entire body towards the sink while also turning you to face the mirror rather than him. 

“Still feeling tired y/n? If so we can stop now” he says keeping his eyes directed at yours through the mirror, a small smile plastered on his face. 

He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

You immediately shake your head no, scared he’ll actually stop right now leaving you wanting him even more. 

Both his hands traveled down to the hem of your plaid pajama shorts, instantly moving them down your legs revealing your black lace underwear. 

“Fuck” you hear him whisper behind you. 

“Like what you see Kook?” you slightly turn your head to try and face him until you feel the warmth of his left hand touch the front of your crotch causing your head to fall forward instead. 

“Let me take these off you baby” 

You quickly spread your legs a bit to make it easier for him. As soon as the underwear falls on the floor, his middle finger makes its way inside you. The instant feeling was surprising which led you to grip the side of the sink. 

“Can you take another?” he says leaning his head over your shoulder. Rather than saying any words, you nod your head yes in response. Suddenly two digits start pumping inside you making your mouth fall open a bit. The fast pace causes you to clench tighter around them. 

“I-I need more” you breathe out. 

“Oh really?” he quickly remarks as he pulls his fingers out of you making your eyes open in annoyance. 

The anger plastered on your face makes him chuckle a little. 

“You wanted more right?” He questions while looking you straight in the eyes. You say nothing waiting for what’s to come next. 

One of his hands then gets placed on your right shoulder the other guiding his member in between the back of your folds. He continued teasing you, rubbing his now wet cock between your crotch rather than letting you get a feel of him.

“Stop playing Kook” you desperately spit out causing him to smirk again. 

Without warning, he instantly inserts himself inside you. The grip you had on the sink is now getting tighter while also biting your lower lip in response to not wanting to make a lot of noise. 

His pace began slow, letting you adjust to his size. 

Fuck he’s so big.

Although his need for you also grew, making his speed grow quicker by the second. The sounds of your skin hitting against each other also began to echo louder in the restroom causing your eyes to shoot open to look at Jungkook through the mirror. 

Although this time his eyes were fixated on the lower half of your body rather than your face. You can see his mouth slightly open as he catches his breath from time to time. 

*knock knock* 

Shit.

“Whoever is in there are you almost done?” 

“Y-yes” you manage to yell out. 

“Guess we gotta speed this up” he whispers in your ear while the grip of his hands on your body gets tighter.

Rather than worrying about marks that will be left on your skin later, you bend yourself lower on the sink to let him get deeper inside you. 

“Look at me while I fuck you baby” his hand makes its way to the bottom of your chin lifting it up to make you face the mirror. 

His eyes are kept still on yours as his pace quickens. Both of your mouths begin to fall open a bit. Although for a moment you catch him throwing his head back while biting his bottom lip. 

“Fuck you feel so good” he let’s out. 

*knock knock knock knock*

The consistent sound of the knocking on the door made Jungkook pound even harder into you hitting your g-spot each time. It’s almost like the knocking came into rhythm with you and him causing you both to crave even more.

Once the knocking stopped you and Jungkook did as well, reaching both of your highs at the same time. 

Rather than dropping his head on your back, he placed his hands on both sides of the sink to not let his weight overpower you. Quickly he placed a soft kiss on your right shoulder and helped you clean up. 

Surprisingly you and Jungkook managed to escape from the restroom in secret since whoever was knocking got tired of waiting and decided to leave. 

“You feeling more awake now?” He says smiling while wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

Rather than saying anything you just roll your eyes at him and dig your head into his chest.

AH I HOPE AZ SAVES LITTLE VANSERRA FROM THE MARRIAGE, CAUSE I KENNAT, SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT PART, AND AS ALWAYS THIS HAS BEEN ANOTHER MASTERPIECE

An Education in Malice — Part Seven

Pairing: Vanserra!Reader x Azriel

Summary: With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin.

Warnings: brief mentions of abuse, beron being a pos, deep self-reflection for both az & reader, a conversation, a confession, and a turning point

Word Count: 5.6k

a/n: this is not properly proofread yet, i couldnt bring myself to read it fully since i was getting self-critical and wouldve never posted

Part Six | Series Masterlist

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The early morning mist still clung to the open fields as you crossed them. Eris stood alone in the expanse, throwing a ball for his hounds. The movement was fluid and practiced, and you found your mind wandering to memories of decades prior —- memories where Eris stood in the same spot, throwing the same ball at younger pup versions of the dogs. Laney trotted beside you as you approached, her pace quickening as she saw the others.

A brisk chill made you pull your coat tighter, but the fabric did little to ward off the cold. It was always peaceful out here, away from the burdens and bustle of the court itself, and Autumn mornings had a cool air that made you feel real, made your skin feel alive.

Eris’s eyes were already on you as you approached him, eyebrows raising momentarily as you took a stand next to him. You mirrored the action back to him, crossing your arms and pulling them tight against your body. 

“What’s that look for?”

He gave a casual shrug. "Surprised you've spared some time for me in your incredibly busy schedule.”

You scowled. “You’re so dramatic.”

He chuckled, a low sound that seemed to vibrate through the crisp air, and his lips twitched upwards in amusement at your annoyance.  “You’ve been gone a lot.”

Your gaze bounced around his face. He seemed tired— more so than usual, and the freckles on his nose seemed to be less prominent with the lack of color in his skin. You casted an absentminded glance towards the overcast sky before meeting your brother's eyes again. 

“Have I?”

Eris hummed. “You have.”

He pulled at the cuffs of his sleeves.

“I’m surprised you noticed,” you said, “You’ve been really busy too.”

Your answer pulled another raise of his brows. 

“Of course I noticed,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes that matched the amusement in his tone. “It was so quiet here without you terrorizing everyone.”

You rolled your eyes and Eris grinned at his own words, a look of satisfaction rolling through his features as you scowled deeper. 

“You’re not funny,” you said. 

He let out a wistful sigh. “On the contrary, little sister,” he mused, “I’m hilarious.”

You threw him a withering glare and his grin widened. He nudged his shoulder against yours. A few hounds scampered back to him, Flint proudly carrying a small red ball in his slobbering jaws. Laney bounded alongside, followed closely by four hounds.

Eris moved gracefully, bringing his body down into a squat to offer a flat palm to Flint. The ball landed in his hand with a small thud.

"The male you’re sleeping with, do you care for him?"

Eris’s voice was so calm, so casual, that you almost didn’t catch what he’d asked you. He didn’t bother to look at you. 

You took a sharp intake of breath, looking down at him with widened eyes. “What?”

Eris stood up straight as he tossed the ball back into the distance effortlessly. You watched the hounds race after it, Laney's determined strides putting her ahead of the pack as they joined the others in the field. When you looked back at Eris, he was studying you— waiting for your response.

“Well?”

Your heartbeat quickened and you frowned, pulling your arms tighter against your chest. "What are you talking about?"

He raised an eyebrow, casually pulling a small handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

You stared at him, feeling a knot of tension tighten in your chest. Your nails dug into your skin through the fabric of your coat. Eris continued, his voice steady. "You've done a great job at covering the scent. But you can't fool me. Don't forget who taught you those tricks."

His eyes were simmering as they met yours again, the amber in them flickering with something guarded— something concerned. You took a steadying breath as you weighed your options. The easiest one was to deny that there was any male at all, to attempt to outplay your brother at the one game he knew best. But it would be foolish to believe that could truly work. Your mind raced again.

The best lies are the ones with truth, Eris always said, you can get away with anything if you approach it right, if you take control of the conversation. 

You let out a breath. “I was hoping you wouldn’t find out.”

Truth.

He maintained his heavy gaze. "Is it one of my soldiers?"

You grimaced at his words, letting your face fall into one of slight disgust. "You'd really want to know if I was sleeping with one of your men?"

Take control of the conversation.

The words seem to hit their target as Eris’s lips formed a deep frown. His nose scrunched as he processed the words. He gave you a dismissive hand wave. “Nevermind.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “That’s what I thought.”

A moment of silence passed but Eris’s gaze didn’t leave your face. You forced yourself to look into the distance, to watch the hounds as they chased each other in the grass. 

"You didn't answer me.”

You took a breath. "About what?" 

"Do you care for him?"

The words ran through you in a wave, one entirely too heavy for your liking. 

Months ago, the answer would have been obvious— so obvious that the question itself would’ve seemed like a sick joke. Months ago, it would've been instant. No. You did not care for Azriel. He could've died and you would've celebrated; would’ve laughed at the idea of karma finally finding its way to the family you disliked so heavily. 

But something in you had changed recently, changed in a way that made you hesitate at your answer. 

You and Azriel hadn't slept together in weeks. And even those times had been a physical release, something meaningless yet sickly sweet. Yet, the moments since had become even more intimate—the times you caught yourself joking with him, caught your own lingering gaze on his form. 

You’d gone back for him— and you’d repeated that moment in your head multiple times since, thinking back to that tug you felt in your chest, the strange guilt you felt the minute you’d winnowed away. You’d gone back and fought alongside him, had managed to heal him in a way you'd never been able to do for Eris,  never been able to do even for yourself.

You looked at your brother and let out a sharp breath of air. 

"No. I don’t." 

The words felt forced, strained, and you worried that Eris would see through it entirely— would force you to admit a truth you weren’t sure existed. But he only narrowed his eyes, tilted his head, and then nodded. 

“Good,” he said, “That would only make matters worse.”

There was something in his tone that made you run cold and you turned your body to face him, watching as his eyes shifted impatiently, the action almost nervous. 

“Eris,” you said cautiously, “What is it?”

A flicker of something ran through his face, something that looked awfully like guilt, like sadness. 

“Y/n” he began, but you lifted a hand up, shaking your head at his attempts to soften the conversation, to gently lead into whatever topic had him so bothered.

”Don’t,” you said firmly. “Don’t do that. Don’t use that voice. I’m not a child to be soothed. Tell me.”

Eris sighed. “He’s entertaining the idea of marrying you off to garner more support.” 

A name wasn’t needed as your stomach dropped and your hands fell slack at your sides. “No,” you said, shaking your head. “That’s not true.”

Eris’s shoulders slumped. “It’s why I’ve been so busy. I looked into it. It’s true.”

A strange buzzing sensation began to fill your ears. You shook your head as if to clear it, as if the words Eris would say next could change the ones he had already said.

“No,” you repeated firmer. “Brides are taken at their prime, when they become of age. I’ve been of age for centuries. I- No.”

Eris stepped closer. “He’s seeing it as a way to strengthen inner-court allies, to consolidate power in a more immediate way. Access to our bloodline is an incredible link to influence, any of his men will take the chance.”

Your chest constricted as the words sank in and you felt your hands begin to tremble, felt an unsteady flicker at your fingertips. You met Eris’s gaze, eyes wide, breathing heavy. 

“He’s punishing me.”

Eris swallowed hard and his eyes filled with a deep, unspoken sorrow. He nodded, unable to find the right words. 

”Just give me some time,” Eris finally said, pulling you in by your shoulder. He lowered his head to meet your gaze, his voice falling to a softer, lower tone. “I’ll figure something out, okay? I-I just need some time.”

It seemed as if he was trying to convince himself of his own words too. So you only nodded, looking into the distance once more, eyes tracing the circles the hounds ran around each other.

Even in the open air, in this freedom, they were still pets— still animals that were owned, bred throughout history for a singular purpose. 

You’d never realized how much you had in common until now. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

He stepped out of the bath, feeling as the water trailed down his form and the tension in his muscles eased. The steam swirled around him, briefly shrouding him in a comforting fog, and his shadows followed his movements slowly— leisurely. 

Azriel’s wing was healed now and he thought of you whenever he moved it. He remembered how he had slipped into unconsciousness at your touch, how your focused, almost tender face was the last thing he saw before succumbing to the darkness. He thought of you in the moonlight, thought of how your voice softened as you talked about Lucien. Most of all, he thought about the words he’s said himself, words intended to be an apology—- a compliment, even. And how you’d recoiled at them as if he had injured you gravely.

He dressed slowly, his mind being lured in every direction but ultimately falling back to you. Azriel glanced down at his hands, at the scars that marred his skin. Amongst his burns were scars from battles, from missions, and if he squinted hard enough, he could envision the blood that stained them still, even after the liquid had been washed off. 

Every act he committed was etched into his skin, acts done out of loyalty, out of a need to protect those he loved; a need to be important, to be anything but weak. 

Azriel had felt at sea recently, lost even in his own court. He felt like a failure as he watched Rhysand’s worry about Koschei grow throughout the days. He was a spymaster— a warrior. Yet nothing he did seemed to help. His family was restless, on edge, and he felt a bitter pang as his shadows updated him on their every move. Feyre and Rhys had learned to soothe Nyx at night and Cassian and Nesta had begun planning their mating ceremony—something large, grand, and worth her time. He didn’t even want to think of Elain, to think of her alongside the brother that even Azriel’s shadows had grown to like. 

He was happy for them. At least, he told himself so. But he couldn’t shake his feeling of unease, as if he was on unsettled ground. Beneath it all was a sickening sense of jealousy. Everyone— even Amren— had found a purpose, had even found a love that softened them. Azriel hadn’t. 

Maybe that was why he liked the way he felt when he met with you, liked how it had given him a sense of purpose— even if he disliked what that purpose was for. He felt a clarity now, a focus he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

It seemed like a sick joke from the Mother, to give him a sense of purpose when he was alongside you, to find satisfaction in helping you support Eris, the very male Azriel despised with every fiber of his being. If he had grown to respect you in some form, did that mean he respected Eris, too? 

The thought made him want to vomit. 

It was becoming far too easy for you to cloud his thoughts, to overshadow any duties or obligations he had. Normally he would fight against it, burying himself in work, training, anything to keep his mind occupied. But today, he welcomed it, indulged in the sweet sin of your face in his mind. His shadows drifted around him, whispering in his ears the very things he knew himself. He was beginning to feel seen in a way he hadn’t felt before, by eyes that had seen the same life as him. 

And it terrified him as much as it comforted him. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You didn’t have time, as it turned out.

Beron had moved into preparations swiftly—faster than you or Eris anticipated. One night he found you, his eyes gleaming with a cruel satisfaction that had Laney preparing to bear her teeth at him in a snarl— you were grateful he didn’t notice, grateful that she listened to your commands.

”You finally have a purpose to fulfill,” he declared. “I never understood why the Mother cursed me with a daughter as my final kin, but now I understand.”

You’d felt your identity slipping away as soon as he growled those words. In the days since, he forced your mother to tightly pull back your hair each night, to help dress you as a prized calf and parade you at his events for Autumn’s most influential— most cunning—figures. They eyed you with calculating, hungry interest, deciding whether you were suitable for themselves or their sons. 

You sat at a table now, the only female among a sea of men. Your mother was never allowed at events like this, never really seen unless she was forced to cling to your fathers arm like a piece of fine jewelry. The plate of food in front of you was half the size of the portions heaped on the plates of the males surrounding you. If you had the energy, you would’ve found it funny. But you didn’t. 

You felt like a prey in a pack of savage beasts, their eyes raking over you with a hunger that made you feel sick; made you feel dirty, as if you were covered in a grime you could never fully wash off.

Beron leaned over and placed his hand over yours. Instantly, you clenched and straightened, a wave of revulsion washing over you in a tide. His grip tightened and he leaned in further, lips curling into a sickening, warning smile.

”Smile,” he commanded tightly. “No one wants a scowling bride.”

As a warning, a flame flickered on his palm and a searing pain spread across your exposed skin. You felt the burn, sharp and cruel, but you didn’t dare flinch. You met his eyes and held them— held that cold, hardened gaze, the same one you saw when you’d look in the mirror, in your eyes that looked exactly like his. 

This was your defiance of tonight. If anything, you could do this. You could match him.

But your father’s smile widened, seemingly satisfied enough with your compliance, and he leaned back, releasing your hand. The burn throbbed on your skin but you remained still. 

You could feel another gaze on you, distinct from the predatory stares of the other males. This gaze was warm, comforting, like the gentle heat of a fire on a cold night or the familiar embrace of a childhood blanket. 

You didn’t dare look over. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the concern in Eris’s eyes from across the table. It would break you in some way you couldn’t control. With the familiar sense of heat underneath your skin, you sat up straighter, tightened your strained grip around the fork you held, and imagined how it would look in the eyes of every male around you— all but your brother.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel wasn’t sure why he hurried as much as he did— why his wings seemed to go faster, why his winnowing was almost instant. But here he was, standing in front of the cabin he’d become so familiar with, listening as his shadows told him that you seemed troubled.

It was the job of a lone shadow of his to trail you, to keep an eye on this cabin— on this place, and to alert Azriel if anything was of importance. It was a precautionary measure at the beginning of your little arrangement, a way to keep track of everything going on, to always have something watching you— the most unpredictable factor in his life, the thing he never saw coming. But he wasn’t sure why he’d continued to send that shadow out even after you both had come to a sort of agreement, a sort of truce born of a miniscule understanding. 

Perhaps it was for reasons like this, for your strange appearances in the Spring Court at nearly four in the morning. 

He knew in his gut that something was wrong even before his shadows told him. 

You looked so put together— that was the first thing Azriel noticed.  The dress you wore was entirely too formal, lacking in the usual flare that accompanied your presence; and your hair was tied back tightly, so neatly and simple it seemed constraining. The way you sat on the grass now, before him, almost resembled the stance of a small child looking at the sky in a sorrowful form of prayer, waiting for a star to shoot by for a wish of yours to be placed upon it.

“Why do you always do that?” 

Your voice rang out clear and goosebumps crawled on Azriel’s skin at the sound, a chill making its way through his body. You hadn’t moved, hadn’t bothered looking away from your stare at the sky. Part of him was tempted to remain still, to back further into the darkness that surrounded him. 

“Stare at me afar like a creep?” You added.

Finally, you turned to look at where he stood and Azriel found himself stepping forward, allowing his shadows to disappear around his body. He didn’t offer you an answer, opting to flex his hands— his clammy, tense hands— as he continued to walk forward. You followed his every movement.

“What are you doing here?” 

Azriel’s voice was neutral, monotone. 

You raised your eyebrows. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He frowned at the response. He’d expected something snippier, something more you— he’d grown accustomed to it, to the snark that he’d return easily. He took a moment to think, to rummage through his thoughts like an overly-cluttered junk drawer. 

“Don’t you think this is a bit pathetic,” Azriel said, “Sulking on the dirty grass in the middle of the night?”

His voice was stern. But as much as he’d attempted to ensure it was devoid of emotion, there was a trace of something in his words, a hint of concern. A part of him, one larger than he’d care to admit, was pushing him to be softer, to tell you he was worried, to offer help pick you up. But he refrained. You would push him away the minute you sensed a semblance of pity. This he already knew.

You gave a humorless laugh and there was a strained sense of sorrow that Azriel recognized instantly.  You stood up. “I guess so. You’d know a thing or two about what being pathetic looks like.”

He gritted his teeth and took a steadying breath. His shadows curled around his wrists and he fought with them as they strained to extend further, to slither down his body and towards you. 

There was a tense silence before he spoke again. "I heard Beron is arranging your marriage."

Your head snapped to the side and your eyes met his— the fire in them still visible in the moonlight, but entirely too dull compared to what they’d looked like weeks ago. You took in his form, the straightness of his posture and the tuck of his wings. Even at this hour he was clad in his fighting leathers, poised and deadly like the image of ruin. 

“How do you know that?”

Azriel gave a small, almost nonchalant shrug. “I have spies in every court.”

“Doesn't it defeat the purpose if you tell me?”

“Wouldn't you find them, anyways?

Despite yourself, the corner of your lips twitched upwards. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You stared at each other for a moment and Azriel’s eyes seemed to soften with an internal conflict. He cocked his head at you and you forced yourself to look away, finding new interest on the ground below you.

“Is that why you’re here?”

When you met his eyes once more, he took a sharp intake of breath. 

“I have nowhere else to go.”

Azriel’s mind reeled again. While he felt stuck in place, forged to the very ground he stood on, his brain threw him into every memory he held of you— back to the first times he’d seen you standing alongside Eris. 

He saw the memories in an entirely different light. Before, Eris had domineered over you, had poised his body in front of you and your mother in a way to assert his dominance as the heir to the throne, to remind those around him that you were both females at the end of the day. But now, Az saw it as what it truly was: protection. A bodily shield similar to that he’d done himself to Morrigan, to Amren, to his High Lady. 

You never came to official meetings, were never seen at political gatherings. There were multiple reasons for this, Azriel had gathered. First and foremost, you were a female. And to Beron, females had no place in politics—- no place in his court beyond eye candy and child bearing. His wife was always there, yes, but she never spoke. Never did so much as lift her hand. Azriel could’ve believed that she was nothing more than a doll, not truly living; not truly alive. He didn’t even know her name beyond her title, Lady of Autumn, a female that belonged to her court; nameless beyond the one thing that established her— her husband. 

And beyond being a female, you were their youngest, their only daughter. You were to be protected, to be molded into the perfect wife, ready to be sold off to the highest— and most powerful— male. He’d never bothered to think about that last fact. He never cared. But as you stood in front of him, he indeed felt bothered, felt unsettled at the idea. 

“I feel bad for the male who will be tied to you for the rest of his life.”

“Because I’m that awful?” You scanned his face, your voice veering between wounded and sardonic. “Here I thought you’d be jealous because he’d get to fuck me for the rest of mine.”

Something flashed in Azriel’s eyes and the shadows on his face grew harsher as he clenched his jaw. But then, for a moment, his eyes seemed to soften, turning from a molten brown to a soft honey. “That’s not what I meant.”

"Then what did you mean?"

He took a deep breath and you could’ve sworn you saw a twitch in his hand, saw it move out slightly before he pulled it back in, as if he wanted to reach out, to place a hand on yours. 

"Ownership doesn't suit you. Any male who thinks he has a claim on you is in for a rude awakening.”

 You looked away. "It's not like I have a choice."

"You always have a choice.”

You met his gaze again, a dry laugh bubbling up. Azriel’s face was serious, sincere, and it made your blood boil with a sense of resentment that felt comical. You could taste it: the bitter feeling in your throat and the burning in your stomach, like something making its way from your esophagus to your mouth.

"Of course you would say that."

Azriel's brow furrowed slightly and his body tensed in response. "What does that mean?”

You shook your head, running your tongue along your teeth before you turned to face him fully, jaw tight, teeth clenched. Azriel wore a sense of self-loathing like second skin. You could smell it on him, could see it in the way he walked, in the way he interacted with those around him. You noticed it from the first time you’d met, watched as he longingly looked at Morrigan, as that self-loathing filled his eyes and dripped into his features. You knew the feeling well, knew how to recognize it. 

And you wanted to laugh at the fact. The male before you hated himself so much because he had room to do so. He was powerful enough to let it fester, was comfortable enough to set aside time for his self-pity. The Night Court, despite how much you hated it, had freedoms that yours would never give you. Rhysand granted his family privileges that they never acknowledged.  You felt the urge to tell Azriel exactly that, to shove a finger into his chest and chastise him for such foolish, childish sentiments.  

But instead, you found yourself asking him a question that took both of you by surprise. 

“Why do you despise me?”

Azriel blinked and his shadows stilled, their movements halting around his body. “What?”

“Tell me,” you said, “Tell me why you hate me.”

Azriel’s eyes hardened. “Eris–”

You cut him off. “I asked why you hated me. Not my brother.”

His mouth tightened and he remained silent, his wings twitching  slightly as if they bore the weight of his thoughts. The shadows that usually danced around him like a protective barrier were now motionless, and you felt a twisting sensation in your gut, a cold, coiling dread.

"You know,” you said, your voice low, a hint of anger lacing your words. "It's not only hate that I have felt for you."

He stiffened. "Then what else?"

"Jealousy," you admitted, the word leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “Bitter, suffocating jealousy. I'm envious of you, Shadowsinger. You have this court that you love, this family that can get away with anything and you don't even acknowledge it.”

You’d always been a jealous person. By the gods, you’d tried your best to get over it. But it was rooted in something deeper than superficial envy— especially when it came to Azriel. 

There was something about the moonlight, about these darkened skies, that made it easier to be honest, something that almost compelled a sense of vulnerability. And as you stared at him, felt his gaze burn into yours, you felt a cold shiver of realization roll throughout your skin. 

“I’ve come to realize that you and I are entirely too similar for my liking. And I am so unbelievably envious that I’m punished for everything you are praised for.”

Azriel stilled, his movements slowing as though your words had struck him with the force of a physical blow. His chest tightened and an urgency wrapped itself around his ribs like a vise, constricting with each breath.

Azriel had always hated you. It was a visceral, almost instinctive reaction that he never fully understood until now. You were a mirror of him—a reflection of the darkness he harbored within himself, the parts of him that he loathed. Your cunning, your ruthlessness, this sense of loyalty that left you desperate, that led you to tearing apart pieces of yourself. All qualities he recognized, all qualities he despised in himself. 

It was easier to hate you than to face the self-loathing that gnawed at him. To acknowledge that you were a product of your environment, just as he was. But as much as he tried to detest you, as much as he tried to push you away, his hatred for you had spilled into desire, something sickly sweet and thick. It ran down his body and even after he’d scrubbed himself clean, even after he’d rid himself of his urges as he took you from behind—- it was still there, coating his skin. He was unable to rid himself of the burning that had settled in his chest, the longing he refused to admit; because that hatred, that desire, had grown into something else, something just as hot, just as all consuming. 

It had turned into admiration. 

His expression softened, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossing his face. "You’re right."

A silence settled between you, thick and heavy. Azriel's gaze wavered, his eyes searching yours as if he were sifting through the layers you held. You felt a flutter in your chest, a vulnerable ache that made you want to recoil and step closer all at once.

You stared at him, at the way his wings perched over him like a dark, protective shroud, at how his shadows seemed to radiate off him in waves. The heat beneath your skin intensified, a simmering fire that burned hotter the longer you looked at him. Your eyes drifted to his wing, to the area that had been torn open the last time you saw him. The scar had healed, but the memory of it was still fresh in your mind. You looked back at his face, at the way he hadn’t dared to look away. 

Azriel's face was hauntingly and devastatingly beautiful, a creature of the night, perfectly in his element under the moonlit sky. Your chest felt tight, as if your ribs were being pulled apart, making it hard to breathe. You couldn’t save Eris. You couldn’t outrun the fate your father had set for you. 

You wanted it all to go away, to forget who you were, where you were.

Without another thought, you threw yourself at Azriel, your lips crashing against his in an angry, heady kiss. The intensity of it was almost violent, something born out of desperation, out of a need to feel something other than the suffocating anger that had taken residence in your heart.

He pulled away for a moment, his brows furrowing as he took in your face. His eyes fell to your lips. You waited for it— for the abandonment of reluctance that had become a routine, for him to stare at you, for that stare to turn hungry, predatory, and for him to surge forward and claim your lips with his. But Azriel didn’t move towards you. He shook his head and took a step back. 

“What is it?” you breathed, your voice trembling, edged with frustration. “Have you suddenly gained morals? Do you not want this?”

He hesitated. “No. Not like this,” Azriel said and you bristled at the words. They weren’t entirely dismissive, but they felt charged with something that left your mouth dry, left it difficult for you to breathe. “I don’t want your anger.”

“What does that mean?”

His eyes flickered, as if trying to blink away the thoughts racing through his mind.

“I don’t know.”

The uncertainty in his voice made your chest feel tighter. An almost embarrassing sensation of exposure washed over you, as if your entire life had led to being denied the one sick pleasure you’d found. 

“Why did you come here?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, this time firmer, more desperate. His shadows churned around him, dark tendrils of darkness twisting and writhing like a storm gathering strength, charged with an unsettling energy.

It set you on edge. Your fingers twitched, and you clenched your hands into fists to stop their trembling. 

“Well, what do you know?”

Azriel looked at you, a crease in his brows, his expression a mix of pain and relief as he finally responded, his eyes burning. “That you have plagued my mind for weeks.”

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice teetering between curiosity and a simmering anger. It was a blend of emotions you couldn't quite unravel—whether you sought answers or were simply lashing out. “What do you want?”

He shook his head, attempting to take another step back, growing more furious with himself at the motion. You moved closer, bringing your hand to his arm and he felt the burn of your touch through his leathers. You were a nightmare and he felt desperate to keep you as you pleaded with him, voice rising, fiery in spirit and heart. 

“Tell me what you want, Shadowsinger.”

You weren't sure what came over you, why you suddenly felt desperate for him to tell you what you felt was true, for him to admit it. It felt like you were on the edge of a great precipice, your heart tugging and tightening in your chest all at once, needing him to look at you, growing anxious, angry, even. You wanted his truth, wanted his confession and his sin all in one.

And then you continued, voice suddenly tender, seeking. “Tell me what you want and I can give it to you.”

He willed himself to look at you and his chest rose with his uneven breaths. 

“You,” he managed to breathe, shivering with craving.

Once the admission fell from his mouth, Azriel was done for. “I want you.” 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

yknow.... if theres one thing ill give these angst fuckers credit for is that they are so honest with each other, like tell me why reader is more honest with az than rhys was with his own wife 😭

anyways everyone thank @writingcroissant as usual for inspiring me (forcing me) to finish this part when i was tempted to delete everything

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii

Gods, it’s not even healthy how I know I’ll reject people IRL on the fact that they ARENT Robb Stark

can i just say i think robb stark is the type to randomly blurt out declarations of love. walk w me here

i think sometimes it just slips out. quiet admissions when you’re alone, your hands working the knots out of his shoulders after long days of fighting.

“oh, i love you. gods, i love you.”

while he drops his head down, overwhelmed with relief as his muscles release their tension by the second.

or when he’s deep in shit war-wise. he’s trapped, has no idea what to do, & is in his head about whether or not he can win this. he feels like he’s drowning, enemies on all sides.

until you’re there. hands gently running through his scalp, bringing memories of how his mother used to comfort him the same way as a child. you’re all soft tones & soothing words, offering solutions to the smaller problems that have been giving him headaches. he nods along as you talk, and he huffs out a breath of laughter. you pause in your speaking — wondering what he could be laughing at.

& he just drops his head down, running his hands along his face muttering-

“dear gods- what would i do without you?”

My goddess, my savior, my one and only Dipper

Not me imagining how Robb would gladly "volunteer" to warm you up whenever you got too cold *wink* *wink*- behind the stable, in the godswoods, underneath the Weirdwood tree, etc etc

can i pls request headcanons for robb stark in an arranged marriage with a princess from the summer isles?? maybe some stuff about cultures mixing, how she struggles to fit in/adapt to winterfell but he helps her, etc. thank u sm!!! <3

yes of course!! i actually had a lot of fun researching the summer isles for this haha, thank u sm for the ask <3

so i definitely think the weather would be a big adapter. the summer isles are hot & winterfell is the temperature of the krusty krabs deep freezer. as someone from an area that runs hot, i can withstand the heat but CRUMBLE in the cold. with that being said, robb would be super kind in trying his best to help you adapt not only culturally, but physically.

he would accompany you to winterfells tailor/seamstress, overseeing having custom furs made for you to keep you warm. you tried to dress for the weather, but you’ve never been the north cold, and your light sweaters aren’t doing it.

he would try & make sure you didn’t have to spend a lot of time outside/in the cold when you first arrived, wanting to give your body time to adjust. making sure you always had your fire lit on cold nights, being by your side when you did have to brave the weather, pushing back if his mother/father wanted you to make appearances out in the town before you were ready.

but, after a little while, he would definitely take you out himself. to the godswood, watching bran & arya train, to ride horses (if you ride) etc. little things that are quality time for you two & also get you used to the cold.

i’m not sure how this works with princesses of the summer isles, but the summer islanders are said to be “famed as expert archers, and their bows made of goldenheart wood are capable of firing arrows hard enough to pierce steel plate armor, even from a very far distance.” with that being said, i think these skills would help you really hit it off with everyone in winterfell.

you’re a better archer than theon, which sparks contests between y’all (literally all the time). he claims he’ll win (he doesn’t. ever.) he says it’s the sunlight hitting his eyes (it’s cloudy)

you help bran with his archery, and he flourishes under your guide. this would also make robb fall soooooo in love w you 😭 he’s standing there watching you guys with his arms crossed, imagining what you’d look like with children of your own (gorgeous) (he’s daydreaming)

& ned would love for you to accompany them on hunts, or anywhere he could watch your skill. you remind him of arya & give him reassurance that she really will be okay. speaking of arya, she would ADORE you omg.

the summer islanders are also known as the best seafarers in the world. watching you with a bow & hearing of your stories at sea would make arya look up to and respect you SO heavily. she wants to be around you all the time. she & robb fight over you LMAO

…and then we fucked so loudly, the blonde haired bastards in King’s Landing heard us

Hiiii!!! Could you please write something abt comforting Robb after a long day of leading the war? Just some nice, sweet moments between the two of em xx

anon i SPECIALIZE in this department. thank you sm for the ask, i hope u enjoy !!

the tent is dark in the cloak of night, lightly illuminated by the various candles placed about. robb fiddles with the stuck buckle of his armor inside his tent, sighing in his growing frustration at the persistence of his armor refusing to unlatch.

he’s got squires for this, he knows, but he’s been around men all day. taken lives of fathers, brothers, sons, he can take off his own damn armor.

he gives it one final tug before he gives up, sitting back and running his hands down his face, trying his best to rub the sleep from his eyes. he’s got wounded to check on, meetings to hold & ravens to answer. he can take off his armor later.

he leans forward, putting his elbows on the table & resting his head in his hands, just for a moment.

….

approaching footsteps interrupt his moment of reprieve, and greywind rouses from where he lays guard at the door. robb hopes it’s just the guards changing shifts, but he knows better. it’s someone coming to ask him for something. someone coming to tell him what he should be doing instead of what he has been. pigs are flying and he must fix it.

he closes his eyes, and he hears someone enter the tent. the guards are obligated to announce everyone’s arrival, are they not? who could they possibly let in without hesitation?

“what is it?”

his tone is harsher than he intends. he’s snappy, even when he doesn’t mean to be. when he gets no answer, he looks up, and it’s you. his expression softens in record time, guilt crawling up his spine. he puts his head in his hands again, sighing at his own stupidity. what kind of king speaks to his people like he just did? to his lady, nonetheless?

you walk over to him, wordless, and begin to unlatch the stuck buckle. it lets go in record time, and you move to the next. robb sits back to give you access to all of his armor, and you step into his space. you must be a gift from the gods, he thinks. some kind of… divine blessing that he could never be worthy of receiving.

some time passes like that. you, taking off his armor, and robb, sitting back ever so patiently, resisting the urge to pull you closer. the weight lifts off him as the layers get shed, and he can’t help the few groans that escape him. how long has he been wearing this? ten, twelve hours? his body relaxes as you work, and in tune, his mind. his hand reaches for any part of you he can hold while not interrupting your work. he almost thinks he’s bothering you until he feels you lean into him, whether you’re aware of it or not. it brings the first smile he’s worn on his face all day.

eventually you pull him up to send him to bathe.

“y’look like death.”

your comment has a playful expression adorn robb’s face as he pulls you closer, and he starts poking your ribs, the place where you’re most ticklish. you yelp in surprise, squirming in his grasp and trying to get away. he’s got a good hold of you, and your pleas for him to stop are drowned out by your own laughter.

even if you’re the victim, you secretly enjoy the playful moments like these. the ones where you get a glimpse of the robb you fell in love with at winterfell — where you both were just two stupid kids, head over heels for each other.

“robb- robb!”

he eventually decides on mercy, stopping his assault. you sway in his arms, catching your breath & letting smaller giggles escape you. he leans in, kissing your temple in a half-apology (he’s not sorry) as he leaves to wash the grime off himself.

he comes back to find you lighting a candle you just replaced. the glow of its light illuminates your features, and you’ve never looked so pretty. he approaches you, and he can’t help himself, sliding an arm around your waist & pulling you into him. however stuck you may be, you seem content with your situation. you aren’t sure how long you stand like that, soaking in each others presence, watching the candles flame dance. you’re both so enamored in this moment, you don’t hear greywind moving to stand up.

“Your grace.”

you both turn around to see the subject of the intrusion. a guard has his head poked through the tents entrance, greywind stopping him from stepping inside.

“A raven.” the guard holds up a sealed scroll, punctuating his words. robb squeezes your waist ever so lightly as he lets go, moving to collect the scroll and add it to his list of things he must do. he nods, silently dismissing the guard, and the guard bows, going back to his post.

he breaks the seal, and whatever’s written on the paper has robb’s mood growing sour as he reads it. he sets it down on the table, putting his hands on the old wood and exhaling through his nose, leaning his weight against it. his eyes are distant, overworked brain no doubt at a loss of what to do anymore. how much can one man take?

you hate seeing him like this. the crown on his head is heavy, and war has not been kind. you wish you could fix it all yourself, but you can’t. the best you can do is stand unwavering by his side, there to prop him up when he’s buckling. so you do.

you move to join him, gently moving one of his arms off of the table to give you room to wrap your arms around him. he’s immediate in his response, tucking his head in your shoulder & pulling your body flush against his. he sighs, a shaky exhale against your shoulder. he needed this. bad. and he didn’t even know it, not until he got it.

not until he feels the heat and weight of your body pressed against his own, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. he can feel you trying to embed yourself into his memory, a reminder that even when you’re not here, he can come back to this moment. when he feels like he’s drowning in the vast sea of battle and politics — that he once felt like he was drowning here, inside this tent, too. and you were there to pull him back up. somehow, impossibly, he finds himself pulling you closer.

…✋ I’ll take mean!Robb 🫠

request: letting robb stark take me feral like the wolf he is

unfortunately this is giving me thoughts.

usually, he’s ever so gentle. passionate, attentive, unapologetic in his desire for you. but he’s stressed. constantly frustrated. angry, even. so, you offer for him to take it out on you. an outlet to release all of his pent up energy. he’s hesitant at first, unsure & unwilling to hurt you, but you trust him — and you tell him as much.

so here you are. your throat & chest littered with marks, some areas bitten. he didn’t even bother to prep you, bottoming out in one swift push that knocks the air from your lungs. his nails leave indents from where they tightly grip your hips. or, anywhere he can reach, really. his pace is relentless, harsh & setting your nerves on fire. you squirm, wanting reprieve as you lose track of the amount of times you’ve peaked.

he merely pulls you closer, back flush against his chest as he leans forward, positioning his head next to your ear so you can hear him.

“where you goin’? hm?” he doesn’t get a reply. he doesn’t expect one.

“thought you could take it? y’said you could.”

he sets a new pace, tantalizingly slow as he fully bottoms out & then pulls himself almost entirely away. and again. and again. his hands roam you, and you’re not sure this is the same robb you married. he’s rough — harsh. he’s mean.

…🫠

Stark Men: Bark if you want me

Me: *fucking howling to the moon*

stark men come with a built in breeding kink send tweet

TWEET RECIEVED. LIKED & REPOSTED.

honestly, it’s genetics i’m afraid. just part of the deal. they can’t help it. you look so pretty when you’re with children, they just wanna give you some of your own :(

growing up and having his mother & father as an example, robb has always wanted a big family. the desire only increased tenfold the first time you laid together (he always finishes inside of you to ensure that happens)

jon doesn’t even know he wants it. not until he’s finally got you in his grasp, and he can’t think about anything else but giving you a child. your belly would be round & swollen and it would be all because of him.

cregan can’t help it. every time you’re around kids, the thought invades his mind. you, with little wolf pups growing in your belly (he grows hard at the thought). you see his expression grow distant, as he no doubt imagines little chunky toddlers running around winterfell. they’d have your eyes.

…I’ll be his mistress but the North knows I’m its Queen

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write about Robb’s childhood best friend/lover finding out about his betrothal between him and one of the Frey girls? Love your writing!!

i won’t lie… this one hurt my heart a bit (i’m grieving) but we persevere — i’m glad u enjoy my writing & thank you sm for the ask </3 (i am a shell of the man i once was)

robb stark x fem!reader (angst, doomed by the plot i fear)

war is unforgiving. war is harsh, it is mean, and it doesn’t change direction for anyone’s feelings. terrible things happen, terrible choices have to be made, and there’s nothing you can do about it. this is a hard lesson that you’ve had to learn, ever since lord eddard stark (or as you knew him, ned) was beheaded, and the north declared war.

it all seemed to happen so fast. one thing after another, like the stone of tragedy was rolling down the hill and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. fate has been cruel, and especially cruel to your lover, robb.

and here sits another obstacle for him to maneuver. lord walder frey.

you needed to cross at the twins. there was no other option, and it was crucial that you win the freys to your side. it was so important, that catelyn stark herself went to treat with them. she was confident that her past with lord frey would ensure her safety, and hopefully make her negotiation that much easier. you bit down on your bottom lip watching her leave, in a poor attempt to soothe your nerves.

you didn’t like this. you liked things you could control, things you could fix. this was completely out of your hands, and you found yourself praying to the gods on behalf of lord walder frey. things really have gone downhill. you spared a glance to robb, to find him already looking at you. he gives you a small nod, which you return, and you move to start heading back to the camp.

you can’t really say why this is the thing that made you so anxious, but you need to keep it together. robb needs dependability, so you did the one thing you were good at. staying busy. there was never a shortage of things to do or problems to fix, and you happened to be especially good at keeping the camp running smoothly. you had no doubt robb would find you once catelyn returned, providing you with an answer — or, with something that needed a solution.

“We’ve been granted crossing.”

you turn around, seeing robb walk in the tent you’re in. he’s got a mixed expression of relief, and the usual cloak of exhaustion & grief that doesn’t seem to leave his face much these days. there’s something else wavering underneath all of it, but you leave that discussion for later.

you exhale, nodding, and you send a silent thanks to the gods. you turn, moving to continue your organization of the maps. most were unorganized, half of them outdated, and they all could use a rewrite.

“Not without a price, I’m sure.”

your words weigh much more heavily than you intended, meant as a jest to the ever prickly walder frey. you’re messing with the scrolls, waiting for a reply. but you don’t get one. robb has hesitated.

that makes you stop your ministrations. you and robb could always talk to each other about everything. you were each others outlet, and conversation always flowed easily — even if there was grievous news, he never hesitated. you turn around, looking at him, and finally, you recognize the micro expression you saw when he first came in.

guilt.

a soft call of his name brings him out of his head, and squeezes his heart at the same time. how can he do this? can he even bring himself to look at you? he’s on autopilot, hand moving by itself to close the flaps of the tent behind him. he turns back to face you, and the expression you wear almost makes his knees buckle. how can he? how can he do this?

“Don’t scare me. I hate when you scare me.”

he knows. he remembers how he used to jumpscare you as children, until you told him (with tears in your eyes) not to — and he found himself wanting to heed your every wish. the next time theon scared you, it was robb you sought out. he pranked theon to make you feel better (oh, how you laughed). why does it have to be him? why him to do it?

“Lord Walder Frey has granted us crossing through the twins,” he exhales. “but not without price.”

all of your attention is on him, and for the first time, robb doesn’t relish in it.

“I must take Olyvar Frey as a squire, a knighthood is expected in due course.”

you watch him intently, waiting to listen to whatever’s made him hesitant to talk to you. doesn’t he know you’re steadfast, in it for the long run?

“Arya, when recovered, will marry one of Lord Walders sons.”

“She’ll like that.” the mere mention of arya is enough to make you smile. he finds himself returning it. you look so pretty when you smile. how can he make you do anything but? how?

“And…” he trails off. he’s gripping his gloves so hard his knuckles turn white. how can he? can he even?

“And must take one of Lord Walders daughters to wife.”

the tranquility melts off your face. your smile is nowhere to be found. he has. he did.

he can see the gears in your head turning. your expression morphs into sadness, grief. he watches you try and steady your breathing. can he reach out for you? is that his place anymore?

you’re nodding, as if you expected this as a possibility, but the tears welling up in your eyes betray you.

“We… we can cross, that’s…” you swallow down your cries. “that’s good.”

you’re picking at your hands now. you do that when you try and hold yourself together. it’s not working.

robb isn’t fairing much better. if you took your attention off of choking back your sobs, you’d see his expression is helpless. painful. he understands your pain, he feels it tenfold. when did his eyes get so wet?

“I need…” you pause as if you don’t even know. “I need you to go.”

he whispers your name. he wants you in his space. he wants you closer, and you want him away. he begins to take steps towards you without even realizing it.

“Robb, please,”

“Don’t make me…”

“I need you to leave. Please.”

all the times you’ve pulled him towards you echo in his mind. now you’re pushing him away. he’s approaching you. you have a hand on your stomach, trying to steady yourself. you sense his presence, putting a hand out to the side he’s standing on. he’s slightly behind you, trying with everything he has to respect your wishes. his heart wins. his giant, aching heart.

he puts a hand on the one you have outstretched in a poor attempt to keep him away.

“Robb-” you begin, tensing up. you tense at his touch. his.

“Don’t.”

he’s never been a good listener.

he reaches for you. at first you pull away, cries of his name spill from your mouth as your voice breaks. he doesn’t stop. you melt into him.

selfishly, you find comfort in his arms. you grip him like he could disappear. he’s not disappearing. he’s leaving.

you are touching another woman’s husband.

they will share a bed.

he is not yours.

they will share a soul.

his heart is, but his body never will be. and isn’t it all the same, at the end of the day?

…yea, he says he’s sleeping but he’s just waiting till I’m off guard and he eats me out

I love robb’s hair more than anything tbh. imagine him needing comfort n just sitting between reader’s legs, head on their stomach while they just play with his hair 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

yes yes yes yes YES. YES!!

i love his hair. the auburn curls, they’re so pretty. and you just know robb loves having his hair played with. he could be stressing about the most politically complicated shit ever, and as soon as your nails are scratching at his scalp, he just melts into you. groaning from the tension leaving his body, almost shuddering at the feeling.

sometimes, he just needs you. needs your comfort, your reassurance, and you’re more than happy to offer it to him. he can be stubborn at times, refusing to sleep because he has too much to do and “cannot afford it”. all you gotta do is gently coax him to lay down with you for just a minute — for you really, definitely not him. he says he knows what you’re doing, and you’re not half as sly as you think you are. he gives in. every time.

it doesn’t take long. he lies between your legs, head on your stomach as your fingers run through his curls. his arms are wrapped around your waist, and he says he’s not sleeping. just “resting” his eyes. he’s asleep in record time.

*Not me with my hands tied over my head* I’m all yours, Lord Stark

(ok yeah ive sent like 4 asks already this morning IDGAF!!! it’s squidward anon btw i simply couldnt hold my thoughts in any longer. i’ll relinquish my time on the floor after this one🤭)

something something riding cregan for the first time😼 he’s just sooo BIG. and he works so hard, with the war coming up, he never rests enough or ever relaxes. he’s just got his pretty little wife (in comparison to him. literally u could be 6 feet tall and he still just engulfs you lawd.) who’s ready to go after a long day of not seeing each other and just climbs into his lap when he sits to take his boots off. a lil grinding (good for the soul) and making out and u can just tell he’s sooo tired. soft groans and sighs as u rake ur hands thru his hair and massage his scalp a lil. just the feeling of u in his lap has him like… boneless. lord he hasnt even put it in and ur both close 😭 so when u just unlace his trousers enough to slip him out and finally sit on him it’s like. lord he’s gonna break ur hip w that grip!!! oh and dont think u have control btw! if u think his ass isnt pickinng u up and dropping u back down on his cock girllll……. also thinks there’s nothing lovelier than his beloved wife, truly the most important thing in his life, on top of him. also the both sitting up pos is SOO personal😭 like ur breathing each other’s air and just sighing and moaning into each other’s mouths. u try to bury ur head in creagans neck and a big hand comes to the back of ur neck LLORDDD HOLD ON THE VISION!!! his arms wrapped around u, one across ur hips to guide u and the other around ur upper back to keep his grip on the back of ur neck to just keep u as close as possible. none of that leaning back and letting it happen.

ok yeah. need to take a WALK.

squidward anon i love u. i love u i love u i love u. THIS IS. ARFGH. JUST TAKE OVER MY BLOG AT THIS POINT. (also send five more asks pls my inbox is forever open!!!)

i so agree with the exhaustion thing. that’s how it happens the first time. with the realm in shambles he’s got so much to attend to. readying his grey beards to march, making sure the people have enough food for winter, usual lord duties & guarding the wall on top of that. omfg.

he’s so tired… but he also wants you — and you need him. you’re practically aching. he takes off his cloak, his gloves, and sheds most of his outer layers that protect him from the cold. he sits to take off his boots & that’s when you saunter over. greeting him with a small hug, and his head falls against your chest as he sighs. you can almost feel the exhaustion radiating off of him. he shifts after a moment, pulling you down onto his lap & connecting his lips with yours. he can’t help it, he needs to feel you. he sighs, deepening the kiss.

“Cregan..” you whine his name against his lips. “want you.”

his response is quick. “Have me.”

he slips his tongue in your mouth, and your hips begin to grind against his clothed cock. he groans at the feeling, his hands groping at the soft flesh of your waist. your hands rake through his hair, massaging lightly at his scalp & giving the occasional tug. he’s pliant, yet in control even in his exhaustion. he’s more reactive than normal, giving you breathless sighs & soft groans at your small ministrations.

you break the kiss, moving your hips off of him and cregan can feel the frustration bubbling beneath his skin. he wants you closer. as close as you can get. he’s about to pull you back to him when he sees your hands go to fumble with the laces of his trousers, and he grasps your intent. you unlace them just enough to free his cock, and his inhale at the feeling of your hand around him is sharp enough to cut butter. you don’t have to undress, already bare beneath your night-shift, a loose fitting robe that does a poor job of concealing anything. not that you’d ever hide from cregan, anyways.

you guide him to your entrance, sinking down on him, and cregans brows harden, eyes closing as a grunt spills from his lips. his hands are on your hips, hard in their grip, but he can’t help it. you’re killing him here. he sinks to the hilt, and you both take a moment to catch your breath. you’re tight, warm & wet around him, and he’s filled you, that delicious stretch that you love so much making you hiss.

“Let me see you.”

you hum in acknowledgment at his words, hand moving to undo the poorly tied center lace of your night-shift. as you do this, his hand comes to aid in sliding the material off of your shoulder. there’s something exhilarating about you being fully bare, and cregan remaining still fully clothed.

his hands begin to guide you, setting you up & down on his cock. you help where you can, lifting yourself when he guides you to do so. the pleasure is almost overwhelming, hot flames of desire licking up your spine at each drag of his cock. his hand comes to cradle your jaw, bringing you closer to connect your lips. your mouths move against each other, small moans & gasps exchanging between the both of you. he adjusts the angle, making his cock hit that spot that makes you whine, tensing with pleasure.

your head falls to the crook of his shoulder, muffling your moans against his skin. the hand that was cradling your jaw slides down to the back of your neck, keeping you flush against him.

& in this moment, cregan can’t think of anything he loves more than his wife. his sweet, gorgeous wife that just makes the loveliest noises when he’s sheathed deep inside her, and looks the prettiest when she’s cumming.

He’s totally stealing one of her things 😀

Omggggg could we get a snippet of the pogues coming back while Logan and Rafe are in her room?

Here is one! Although they're not exactly in her room for this one... 🤣

18+ | MDNI | References to sex, language.

“That’s the best way to start a day off,” Logan sighed breathlessly and Rafe hummed in agreement, pressing another kiss to her knee. 

“Better than serving drinks to dumbasses trying to look down your shirt?”

“Yeah,” Logan pushed herself up onto her elbows, biting down on her lip as she looked at him, “Now I just have to deal with one asshole trying to look down my shirt all day.”

Rafe scoffed, leaning forward to slap her left ass cheek warningly, Logan giggling as he did, “That asshole just gave you two orgasms, so you might wanna be nice to the hand that fucks you.”

“Or the mouth that licks my pussy.”

Rafe laughed, shaking his head at her as he released her leg, but before he could reply, they heard the clunk and clank of a car approaching, Logan scrambling off the table as Rafe pushed the chair back, the former moving quickly towards the window to peek through.

“Fuck, it’s the Twinkie.”

“The what?” Rafe ran the back of his hand along his mouth as Logan pushed her skirt back down, hand reaching out to grab onto his bicep as she hauled him through the kitchen and down the hall towards her bedroom. 

“The Twinkie,” Logan wrapped her fingers around the door knob and pushed the door open, moving Rafe inside, “John B’s Volkswagen. They call it the Twinkie.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Logan jumped onto her bed to move towards the window behind it, reaching for the dangling rod to close the blinds, “Stay here until I get rid of them.”

“And if they don’t go?”

“Make yourself comfortable?” Logan paused in the doorway, eyes shooting towards her nightstand beside the bed and then the dresser, “but don’t be weird. I don’t want to come back to you sniffing my underwear or something.”

Rafe shot her an unimpressed look as he leaned back against the dresser, the sounds of the Twinkie’s doors opening and closing echoing through the old, thin windows, “I literally just had three of my fingers inside you…not to mention my tongue...”

“And you did a great job, gold stars for pussy eating." Logan walked back towards the door, “Don’t make a sound, k?”

Just as Logan closed the door behind her, did the front door open widely, JJ thundering in with the merry band of Pogues behind him, “Logan?”

“Here,” Logan moved down the hall, hand casually smoothing down her skirt as she leaned against the back of the couch, “What’re you guys doing here?”

“Why are you home on a Thursday?” JJ glanced around the house, frown across his face. 

“I’m not working today.”

“But it’s Thursday…”

“So?” Logan lifted her eyebrows.

“Thursdays are your late night…”

“I’m off,” Logan lifted her shoulder. “What are you guys doing here anyway?”

“I’m just lookin’ for something,” JJ was as vague as she was and she watched him wander through the living room before ducking into the kitchen and utility rooms. 

While her brother attempted to look casual, Logan glanced towards the other Pogues, “Wanna fill me in?”

“Sorry,” John B slipped his hands into the pockets of his board shorts as he hovered just inside the front door, “Classified.”

“Of course it is.”

JJ let out a groan, throwing Logan an annoyed look over his shoulder after he did a second pass through the kitchen, “Why is your underwear on the ground? Please tell me you didn't bring someone here...”

God these two are acting so damn cute together and want them to be happyyyyyyyyyy

Do you have a snippet of Logan calling Rafe hot shot/buddy yet? 😂

I could do that! 🤣😉

18+ | MDNI | References to sex, flirting.

“Yeah, ok,” Logan rolled her eyes as she leaned over to rest her elbows on the Calacatta marble, eyes trailing across the veiny slab before she glanced toward Rafe, the oldest Cameron pulling open the refrigerator door, “whatever you say, buddy.”

It took exactly four seconds before Rafe turned his head, eyebrows furrowed, his gaze shifting away from the shelves in the refrigerator door to look towards her, watching as she rolled the Tootsie Pop around her molars, lips pursed around the white stick.

He slowly took a step back, the refrigerator door closing on its own as his frown only depended, one hand sliding along his hip, “Did…you just call me buddy?”

Logan cracked the Tootsie Pop in response, eyebrows lifting into her hairline, “Problem?”

“Um…” Rafe moved to stand near the counter across from her, his hands resting flat on the surface, “Last time I checked, buddies don’t shower together after having sex all morning…”

“Oh,” Logan pushed away from the counter, hand lifting to twirl her stick, “huh…good to know. I uh…need to make a few calls...”

Logan shrieked when Rafe closed the space between them quickly, one arm wrapping around her waist as the other pulled the sucker from her mouth, and just when she thought he was going to kiss her did he nip her bottom lip warningly, “Behave.”

Logan tilted her head back, requesting a kiss but Rafe only denied her, instead taking the Tootsie Pop into his own mouth before he released her, the open palm to his other hand lifting to slap against her denim covered ass.

THEY’RE SO GONE FOR EACH OTHER MY HEARTTTTT

The spicy snippet of Logan and Rafe that you post a couple of weeks ago was incredible 🥵 Are we able to have another spicy snippet if you've got any more? It's absolutely okay if not, though! (This is the last time I will ask ❤️)

I could do that!! I hope you enjoy this one just as much! Hahaha

18+ | MDNI | Smuuuut

“Rafe.”

The moaning and the sounds their body made echoed around the stale house, Logan’s fingers gliding up the back of his neck and into his hair, twisting around the strands as he mouthed at her neck, moving in time with her. Sweat coated them both, a combination of no air conditioning and their activities, and Logan cried out as he rolled his hips further into her, reaching just a little further than he had been. 

“You’re so good, Lo,” he sucked on her neck, forehead pressed to the space just below her chin. His massive hands that she found herself growing obsessed with curved up her spine, one splayed out across her back before his arm wrapped around her to keep her close, his other drifting upwards along her neck, guiding her head back to him for a deep kiss. 

Too consumed in their movements, the kiss died off until they were just breathing each other in, hot hair passing between one another in a way that made Logan curl her toes, nose brushing against his. “You’re so big at this angle.”

“Yeah?” Rafe nipped her lower lip and she all but purred, tugging on his hair as he smirked back at her, his hand flattening out along her back before drifting down to her ass, “You’re takin’ it so well, doll.”

“Want more of it.”

“I’ll give it to you anytime,” he promised her, pressing against her back to push her even further into his chest, her breasts smashed against his chest, the chain around his neck leaving tiny indentations into her skin, “just say the word.”

Logan laughed at that and he kissed his way across her throat to her shoulders, nipping her collarbone teasingly, “My own personal sex toy?”

“Call it whatever you want,” Rafe groaned as she squeezed him tightly, “just make sure you call me.”

I NEED THIS SOTRY YESTERDAY KATE

Can we get a snippet of jealous Rafe? 😮‍💨

We can do that!!

18+ | MDNI | Suggestive flirting, language, just a shake of spice 😉

“This better not become a regular thi—”

Logan wasn’t able to finish her thought, Rafe’s hand sliding along the front of her throat, tilting her head back as his lips moved from her neck to her ear. Her mouth opened slightly when he squeezed and she may have been embarrassed by the breathy moan that escaped if she hadn’t been so turned on.

Her hands rested on his hips, fingers tugging on the hem of his polo before running under the material to feel his warm skin, automatically pulling him tighter against her, Rafe groaning into her ear when she did.

“What’s his name?”

She could feel his teeth along her lobe and her eyes fluttered closed when he turned her head again, lips reattaching to the spot below her ear that she knew was already red.

Logan bit her lip, pretty sure her eyes were about to roll back if he kept sucking on her neck like that, “Who?”

Rafe chuckled and Logan moaned again when he squeezed her neck, cool rings brushing against the sensitive skin there. He pulled his face away, hovering over her in a way that would have been menacing if she didn’t know better, “Exactly.”

He drug his nose along hers and Logan parted her lips when his hand shifted further up her throat, thumb brushing along her bottom lip before he slipped it inside, pupils dilating when she sucked on it lightly before saying, “I have to make tips, Rafe…”

Rafe shook his head no, forehead resting against hers as her arms wound around his waist, hugging him as her wrists locked at the small of his back. “Fuck that,” he said, “if one more douche asks for your number...”

Logan nipped his lower lip before soothing it with her tongue, “Anyone ever tell you that you’re kinda cute all jealous?”

Rafe lifted his hand to brush his thumb along the angry red mark he sucked onto her skin after one of the tourons dressed in an IZOD touched her elbow, leaning across the bar before he asked what time she got off. “Gotta let everyone know you’re not interested, don’t I?”

“I don’t know…” Logan searched his eyes when he pulled away, “He said he rented a BMW…” Logan’s sentence was cut off, laughter filtering out of her mouth as Rafe slapped her ass warningly, her hands flattening along his back before traveling up and over his shoulders, “Kiss me and remind me why I’m not interested.”

KATE, YOU CAN’T PUT A TENDER FOREHEAD KISS BETWEEN ASSHOLE RAFE AND MY ANGEL LOGAN AND NOT EXPECT ME TO FREAK OUT

Can we get a snippet of asshole Rafe? Its lowkey hot and Logan putting him in his place is gonna be my fav

We can do that!!!

18+ | Language | Suggestive Content

“Do you?” Rafe pushed off the railing, backing her into the wall as he reached for her jaw, tilting her head back to rest it against the porch siding, “Do you remember the way my mouth felt on you, Lo?” She moved to push him away again but Rafe didn’t budge, his head tilting to run his nose alongside hers, “‘Cause I remember the way your fingers wrapped around my hair when I went down on you outside the club…”

“Get. Off. Me.”

“No,” Rafe increased the pressure along her jaw before he released it, thumb stroking her chin and neck gently. Too gently. “While you pulling up here all angry and wild does get me a little hot, there are some things you need to understand.” He drug his index finger down the center of her throat, their eyes glued to one another, “The Pogues hit us, so we’re gonna hit ‘em back. Harder. Every. Fucking. Time. They pulled the gun, so we’re taking the shot. If you want this to stop, then you go back to the Cut, and tell JJ to chill the fuck out, alright? ‘Cause he doesn’t want any part of this…”

Logan felt Rafe press a feather light kiss to her forehead next, his ringed finger brushing her collarbones and she closed her eyes tightly, chest heaving with every breath she took, out of breath from her march up here, from her struggle with Rafe, and now at having him pressed almost fully against her. “What happened to being the bigger person?”

“I am the bigger person,” Rafe whispered back to her, “I didn’t go after JJ, now did I?”

Logan squeezed her eyes closed, angry with the way her body reacted when Rafe drug his fingers down her arm, his lips pressing to her hairline again, “You can’t go after people with golf clubs. It’s not ok, Rafe. Pope never did anything wrong. If one person was going to see it from Topper’s side, it would’ve been him…”

“Guilty by association,” Rafe’s thumb grazed the inside of her wrist, his fingers slowly linking with hers, “he’s a casualty.”

“You need to get it in check,” Logan swallowed thickly when Rafe rested his forehead against hers, nuzzling her gently. “This can’t happen again. Pope is a friend, he’s family, and I won’t tolerate this. Period.”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Rafe’s lips ghosted across hers, but he didn’t kiss her.

“I’ll end whatever this is, Rafe,” Logan whispered against his mouth, “I swear I fucking will. You knew what you were getting into. You know where I live and where I’m from. An attack on them is an attack on me.”

NOOOOOOOOO DONT WALK OFFFFFF

Can we have a snippet of their argument where Rafe finds out about her sex work? I’m needing some angry Rafe in my life rn 😂

I can do that!!

MDNI | 18+ | mentions of sex, sex work, language, lots of anger

Logan slammed the car door as hard as she could, the sound echoing all around the marsh as she walked around it and towards the house. A second door opened and closed just as forcefully behind her, and she just made it onto the porch before looking over her shoulder, Rafe Cameron standing at the bottom of the stairs, halfway between the porch and her Jeep as he rested his hands on his hips, nostrils flaring.

“Are you coming inside to yell or are you going to be uncivilized out here?”

“Tell me it’s a fucking joke, Lo,” Rafe drug a hand across his face and jaw, shaking it back and forth, “tell me this isn’t happening.”

Logan let her bag slide off her shoulder before it hit the ground, “It’s not a joke.”

Rafe pursed his lips, eyes staring back at her in a way that would have unnerved her before they started hooking up, before she knew him. “What?”

“It. Is. Not. A. Joke.” Logan enunciated each of the words, “I fuck people for money, good money. I—haven’t in a few weeks, but I was. Before.”

“While we’ve been together?” Logan nodded and Rafe slipped his hands into his hair, gripping the strands at the root as he shook his head back and forth, pacing a short line in the grass, “What the fuck, Logan?”

“Look. If you’re worried about STDs or—”

“That’s not what I’m fucking worried about!” Rafe all but yelled, whirling around to walk towards her, taking the steps up to the porch, “Logan! God—are you this fucking dumb?”

“Fuck you!” Logan shoved his chest but he held his ground, the jaw muscle she’d kissed countless times flexing as he gritted his teeth hard enough she thought one might crack, “Fuck you—you have no right—”

“I have no right?” Rafe was on her quick, hand sliding around her bicep before he walked her back to the house, her back hitting the closed front door, “Why don’t you tell me again that I have no right to be pissed off about this when I was balls deep inside you three hours ago!”

“You don’t under—”

Rafe’s voice lowered and Logan swallowed thickly, her eyes glued to his as he stared back at her with so much intensity she thought she might forget to breathe, “Then you better open that fucking mouth and make me understand.” He released her, taking a few steps away from her as he flexed his fingers out before clenching them again, “Because I’m about to walk off this fucking porch and never look back.”

LOGANNNNNNN

BABY ANGEL I SWEAR HE HAS ONLY EYES FOR YOUUUUUU

Do you have a snippet of Logan getting jealous we could see? If not, could we see Rafe getting jealous/territorial?

Oooooh. Ok—ok, I see you. 😆😉

18 + MDNI | language, mentions of sex, jealousy, self deprecation.

Logan could feel the muscles in her arms working as she shook the cocktail shaker, scanning the area like she normally did, taking a mental count of the amount of people, who had drinks, who didn’t, and who would be approaching soon. She used to scan for attractive guys who might hand over a few more bills if she flirted or smiled at them, but due to the man about thirty feet away, leaning against one of the high top tables, she didn’t have much interest in doing that tonight.

He looked good, dressed in all black, the shiny tuxedo stripe along the side of his pants catching in the light. He wore his rings, the same ones that had left light indentations along her inner thigh the night before, but it was the small gold band he had on his pinky that made her heart palpitate.

“What’s with the smile?”

Logan glanced over at Amy, watching her friend lift a carefully sculpted eyebrow, “Nothing. Just thinking of a funny story.”

“Uh-huh,” Amy rolled her eyes but left it alone, knowing that when Logan latched on to a secret, it would be a cold day in hell before she spilled, “whatever you say, Lo.”

Logan busied herself with pouring the blush colored liquid, handing it off to one of the waiting servers and as she took a few seconds to breathe and wipe down the bar, she did a double take back in Rafe’s direction.

He was talking with a few guys she knew he’d gone to school with, but it was the beautiful blonde approaching that kept her attention. She was tall, nearly as tall as Rafe in the Louboutins she wore and Logan bit her lip hard as she watched the girl slide her hand along Rafe’s bicep, the other two guys he was in mid-conversation with offering a friendly smile and greeting. Clearly they all knew each other and it was then that reality slammed into her harder than anything she’d ever experienced.

Her stomach dropped and heart lurched, her neck heating too quickly as she realized she wasn’t part of that world. And no matter how many times Rafe paid for a nice dinner or fixed her car, she never would be.

The woman, who was currently resting her beautifully manicured hand along Rafe’s shoulder as they all spoke, was gorgeous. Her hair was highlighted flawlessly, curled to perfection down her back in a way Logan was almost sure she hadn’t seen since she watched the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.

Her makeup was expertly applied, the winged eyeliner identical and sharp on both sides, her lipstick the perfect shade of red to match her skin tone. Logan ran her eyes down the woman, taking in the way the black sequined dress both hung off and hugged her figure as if the dress itself was made for her, the muscles in her legs some that would rival those of any runway model.

Logan could see her jewelry from here, could see that it was designer, each piece more than her monthly rent, hell, the scratch and scuff free red-bottoms punctuated her wealth.

She was very well the opposite of everything Logan had to offer. Fading brown box dye covered her strands with roots that were starting to become an issue, eyeliner that never looked like the same person applied it, let alone identical, and costume jewelry that no doubt was turning Rafe’s finger green with each passing second.

“Are you alright?” Logan inhaled sharply, eyes finding Amy as her friend set down the jigger she was using, a heavy frown crossing her forehead, “Lo? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Logan’s response was too quick, too watery, the underwire of the new bra she bought for tonight digging uncomfortably into her ribcage and making it hard to take a deep breath, “I’m fine.”

“The hell you are.” Amy glanced around, as if she were trying to figure out what set her normally unshakable friend off, “Is it Chris? I was afraid he’d be here—”

“No,” Logan shook her head, “no. God no. I haven’t seen him.”

“Then—”

“I um—” Logan ran a hand along the back of her neck, feeling the warm and sweaty skin, “Can I take five? I need a cigarette.”

“I thought you were trying to quit—“

“Amy.” Logan inhaled sharply, “please. Just let me take a fucking minute.”

Amy nodded and Logan almost died of embarrassment right there when she turned around right into a server carrying a tray of empty glasses. Two or three knocked into each other, and despite him trying to catch them, two more plummeted to the ground before shattering into several pieces, everyone in the area, including Rafe and his friends, turning to look at the scene.

Logan closed her eyes tightly. “Fuck.”

…if this is who I think it is…

Can we get another Rafe/Logan snippet? 😍

We can!!

Read Wild Winds Here!

18+ MDNI | language, minor violence

Chaos erupted almost immediately.

Startled shouts and swears echoing all around. The glass landed on the ground not but five seconds later, just barely missing the guy’s bare foot. Ron was in absolute shock and Logan felt Ellie’s hands on her shoulders as the guy shot up from the lounge chair, his own face twisted in anger. But before he could reach Logan, Rafe and Topper were in the middle of it, Topper pushing the guy back as Rafe hauled Logan away, everyone panting, chests heaving.

“The fuck is going on?” Rafe stared down at her and Logan shoved his hands away, her own shaking from the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

“Ask him,” Logan lunged but Rafe caught her by the waist, her arm and finger extended in the guy’s direction…

THESE BABIES DESERVE EVERYTHING

Any Audrey and JJ snippets you can spare? I miss my babies!

Yesss! I miss them too!! Their next chapter is almost done!!

Read Audrey’s version here!

18+ MDNI | Fluffy fluff

Audrey couldn’t help but smile as she held JJ’s hand, sneaking a glance over at the handsome blonde walking beside her. He wore a pair of fitted black slacks to go with his button down and Audrey couldn’t help but think how good he looked.

Hair disheveled, a sparkle in his eye, and a half smile across his lips—JJ was absolutely the most attractive thing she’d ever laid her eyes on. Audrey squeezed his hand automatically, biting her lip as he squeezed hers back right away.

A quick glance over at Audrey confirmed JJ’s suspicions as he released her hand after tugging her closer, his arm sliding around her to dangle off her shoulders. Pressing his lips to her ear he said, “What’s got that smile on your face so big?”

“You.”

“Yeah?” JJ shifted the toothpick between his teeth as he grinned back at her, “What’d I do?”

“I just love you—like a lot.”

“I love you too,” JJ kissed her as they walked, laughing when they nearly stumbled into another couple, dodging them at the last minute.

IM FEELING SO MANY EMOTIONSSSS

WHY DID YOU HAVE TO STOP THERE????

I’m ready to see Rafe give Logan the look and her reaction 😮‍💨

Ooooooh. Ok, ok, ok. We can do that. 🤣

18 + MDNI | Language, references to sex, Logan’s a brat and Rafe’s had enough.

Read Wild Winds here!

Logan slammed the car door, not even bothering to apologize as she clicked her seatbelt into place, Rafe climbing into the other side. The leather of the steering wheel squeaked as he gripped it, starting the Range Rover a moment later.

She kept her gaze trained on the dark tinted window, slight frown between her eyebrows, ignoring Rafe as he buckled his seatbelt and put the SUV into reverse, pulling out of the parking lot before setting off down the road. It was quiet, and Logan watched out of the corner of her eye as Rafe turned on the radio, soft music playing as he idled at a stop sign, and just as he made the left hand turn did she lean over and turn the radio off.

If the mood hadn’t been so tense, and if she wasn’t so annoyed, she may have laughed at his expression, the man beside her doing a double take, before he cleared his throat, wrist dangling from the steering wheel, “You gonna pout the rest of the night or are we going to talk about this?”

“Who gave you the right to talk to Ron?” Logan lit into him and Rafe kept his eyes on the road, “Huh? Just because I suck your dick you think you can get involved in my work conflicts?”

“I don’t know if you know this or not,” Rafe said slowly, “but you’re kinda a push over, Lo. The dude’s taking advantage of you and I’m sick of it.”

“It’s my job—”

“Can we at least wait to argue until we get home?”

“No,” Logan lifted her feet and pressed her non-slip work shoes directly onto the dash like she knew he hated, arms folded across her chest, “I think I’d like to talk about it now. Why do you think you get to tell my boss about my problems with a coworker? At what point did you hear your name involved?”

“Logan…”

“I’m serious,” Logan’s voice only raised as Rafe sighed heavily, “I’m not a puppet, I’m not your thing, and you will not get involved in this. I told you yesterday I didn’t want you involved, and yet, less than twenty-four hours later, here you are!”

“Can—”

“I won’t be controlled. I’m not some wannabe Figure Eight princess, Rafe. I don’t need you to save me, I don’t want you to save me, and if you even fucking think of doing that again, I’ll—”

Rafe pulled the car over almost immediately and Logan scrambled to grab onto the handle, head turning to stare at him as he all but slammed the car into park, turning in his seat with a look that had her closing her mouth, eyes wide as he looked back at her.

“Or you’ll what?” Rafe asked, his eyes searching her face, “What are you gonna do about it, Logan?” Logan struggled to find the words, her gaze locked on his as he waited for her to respond, a single eyebrow arching as he waited, “Well? I’m listening. If you’ve got so much to say, then say it. Tell me how I'm doing the wrong thing by making sure my girlfriend isn’t walked all over by assholes. Tell me how talking to your boss was the wrong thing to do.”

Logan only remained silent and Rafe leaned over, sliding a bit of hair behind her ear before his fingers trailed down her jaw to slide under her chin, eyes searching hers as he looked at her with an expression she hadn’t seen before, not fully, at least, “What’s the matter, Lo? Cat for your tongue?”

“I—”

“You’re gonna listen to me,” Rafe brought her closer, his nose burning against hers, “that’s what you’re gonna do. Starting now—get the fuck out of the car.”