The sound of muffled screams echoed through Wayne Manor.
You pressed your lips together, trying very hard not to laugh as Damian’s older brother — the ever-so-graceful Dick Grayson — clutched the armrest of the chair like it was the only thing tethering him to this world.
“You said it wouldn’t hurt!” Dick yelled, his voice cracking like a teenager’s.
“I said it would be worth it,” you corrected, holding up the wax strip like a trophy. “And look — smooth as a baby’s butt.”
Damian stood beside you, arms crossed, looking as unimpressed as ever. “Grayson, you are embarrassing yourself. You’ve faced assassins, death traps, and the Joker. Yet you scream at a piece of wax.”
Dick shot him a glare. “You try it, demon spawn!”
Damian smirked. “I do not participate in barbaric grooming rituals. My hair grows in perfectly regulated patterns.”
You snorted. “Sure, sure. Says the guy who uses five different combs for his hair.”
“That is called discipline, Beloved,” Damian replied coolly, then turned his eyes to Dick, who was sweating like a sinner in church. “What she is doing to you, however, is chaos.”
“Oh, come on,” you said, heating up another strip. “It’s not chaos, it’s self-care.”
“Self-destruction,” Damian muttered.
Dick peeked up nervously as you approached again, wax strip in hand. “Wait, wait, wait! Where are you—”
RIPPPP.
Silence.
You blinked. Damian blinked. Dick blinked.
Then Dick screamed.
“Y/N! I swear, if I don’t survive this, tell Barbara I love her!”
You doubled over laughing, clutching your stomach. Damian was stoic for exactly three seconds before his lips twitched. He looked at Dick’s half-waxed chest, sighed, and said with absolute deadpan seriousness:
“You look like a plucked pigeon.”
That was it. You fell to the floor laughing so hard tears filled your eyes.
Dick, still holding the remaining wax strip like it was a cursed object, groaned. “You two are evil.”
Damian raised an eyebrow. “Correction — she is evil. I merely supervise.”
You wiped your eyes and smirked. “Yeah, but you love me.”
Summary: Your husband is adamant about the two of you flying to the Gullet, insisting the battle will be over before either of you has the chance to worry. You can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, but Jace promises everything will be fine.
The problem is that promises mean very little in the middle of a war.
Pairing: Husband! Jace x Wife! reader
WC: 3.7k
Warning: 18+, slight smut, s3 spoilers- ish, a few things were changed mentions of injuries, no deaths, fix it au!, targcest, reader rides Silverwing, slightly proofread, fade to black at the end.
As the war had continued to ramp up and tensions had rose, everyone was on edge. Lucerys was dead, Rhaenys and Meleys were dead, your father had spent an eternity at Harrenhall, and your mother wasn't listening to anyone.
It felt like the walls were closing in, like there was a chance that all of you would die— making the effort pointless.
Given the circumstances, your parents wanted to solidify things— leaving nothing to question. They had you and Jace get married, a small ceremony for just the two of you. Even in the midst of grief and fear, the two of you smiled with joy during the entire thing.
Your bubble of joy and time alone didn't last as both of you were always needed. Intimacy was rarely able to happen as the two of you would fall asleep when you were in the bed together. If the two of you didn't immediately fall asleep, then Jace was complaining to you about his mothers decisions or how he didn't trust the dragonseeds— which you agreed.
War was brutal and it always seemed like the price to pay was increasing daily, something no one had warned you about.
You wanted to keep your husband close to you at all times, a pit always in your stomach at the idea of something happening to him. He was always so eager to prove to his mother that he could fight for her, but you wanted him to be a coward. You didn't want him to get hurt or killed and truthfully, you couldn't imagine life without him.
Everytime he suggested that she should send him or the two of you, your fingers would grip his tighter and your stomach would twist. Even though he'd get angry when she would ignore his suggestions, you felt relieved.
Relived that he would be safe, that you would get another night with him, relieved that you would also be safe.
Rhaenyra had summoned everyone for a meeting, you and Jace getting to the room before everyone else.
You stood there, a sigh escaping your lips.
His head tilted as glanced at you, watching you twist the rings on your fingers.
"Are you alright?"
You shrugged, your eyes flickering over to him as he walked closer.
"I'm sure that she has summoned us here to only tell us more bad news. As of late, there has been nothing positive about these meetings."
He grabbed your hands, staring into your eyes as he closed the gap between the two of you.
"My love, we will get through this— that I know. You can't give up yet."
You gave a half smile, one that didn't reach your eyes all the way.
"I'm not giving up, husband. I am just scared."
He smiled, not because it was funny— but he found you to be so beautiful, even when you confessed that you were scared.
"I too am scared, but this war is necessary. Our future, our children's future, and theirs depends on it—"
"I never said that it wasn't necessary." You interrupted.
He brought one of his hands to your face, caressing it.
"I do not wish to upset you or argue, I just want you to know that I understand— everyone here does."
Your eyes locked onto his, silence taking in over the moment as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours in a gentle kiss.
Your moment was interrupted as Rhaenyra cleared her throat, walking into the room with everyone else walking in behind her.
"Mother, I'm glad you finally came." Jace spoke, turning to face her as she walked to the front of the room.
Baela came to the side of you with a smirk on her face.
"There is something that I must inform everyone about—" Rhaenyra spoke.
Jace glanced at you.
"I met with Alicent a few days ago, she came here to visit me."
Your brows furrowed in disbelief, "you did what?"
Jace had a scowl on his face, his hand resting on the table in front of him.
"Mother, you allowed Alicent to come here?—"
"Are you mad?"
Rhaenyra watched as everyone around the table shared a look, the sunlight making your disappointed looks even more obvious.
"She made an offer to surrender King's Landing." Rhaenyra added.
"And you believe her? You believe the woman that helped bring this mess about?" You question, your voice raising.
Jace absentmindedly grabbed your hand as he could tell that you were getting upset.
"I have to believe that Alicent's offer was genuine."
Jace scoffed, "it is a ruse, cloaked in stale friendship!"
"The risk that she took in coming here is beyond question." Rhaenyra pointed out.
"I too would risk my head, if it meant that I could kill off an entire side by using old, fond memories. It is a trap, mother." You chided.
"What about the risk that she now asks you take? To fly to the greens stronghold, based on her word alone?—"
"It is a trap, Mother, to lure you and Daemon into Vhagar's jaws." Jace countered.
Rhaenyra moved around the table.
"No! Vhagar and Aemond are gone, they've flown to Harrenhall and Aegon is bedridden."
All of you stood there silently, everyone deeply frustrated that she's unwilling to listen to reason.
"I could take Aegon and the throne.. in a single stroke."
"No, you cannot. Please, do not trust her." Baela interjected.
"Surely, you're not considering this." Ser Lorent muttered.
"The greens know already that their defeat is written. Aemond flies on Vhagar to join Cole in the Riverlands. With him gone Alicent will open the gates to the Red Keep and surrender Aegon to me—"
"I will then take his head and the throne."
You scratched your brow, trying to come up with any explanation as to why she'd consider such nonsense. It was wildly unlike her and unexpected.
Mysaria tillted her head, her lips parting to speak but shutting quickly afterwards.
"What are her terms, your grace?”
"That she, Helaena, and Jaehaera are spared and that this war ends without further bloodshed."
"That is a very low price." Mysaria stressed.
Rhaenyra nodded and turned to Baela, "please get word to Corlys in the gullet. I require ships with fighting men enough to secure the city."
Jace sighed.
"Your grace, I protest this action with all my po-"
"And Daemon must return with haste, write to him." Rhaenyra demanded, cutting Jace off and ignoring his remark.
"We will fly to King's Landing in two days time and take the city." She smiled.
You stared a Jace, his cheeks reddened and his jaw tight with frustration.
Jace stormed off and you followed behind him.
"Jace." You spoke, chasing after him.
He continued to walk ahead of you.
"Jacaerys!" You yelled.
He stopped in his tracks, turning back to you. He grabbed your hand, bringing you into your shared chambers and shutting the door.
"Has she lost her senses?—"
"This is fucking.. nonsense." He stammered.
He paced around the room, his curls hanging in front of his face.
"I do not understand what's gotten into her, father needs to be here— maybe she'd listen to him." You suggested.
"I fear that she has gone past listening to reason." Jace mumbled.
You walked over to him, a smile on your face. His feet stopped and his mind began to clear.
You pushed the curl from in front of his face.
"We will figure this out, remember?"
He nodded, getting lost in your gentle eyes.
He kissed you, completely taking your mind off what you were talking about — wrapping his hands around your waist.
"I know, darling." He muttered against your lips.
Your kiss deepened, his tongue sliding into your mouth and a whine escaping yours.
"Jace, you didn't lock the door."
He smirked, "no one will come in, everyone will be focused on mother."
His lips traveled to your face leaving kisses, your hand rubbing over his growing bulge.
"I have missed this." He confessed.
He left soft, open mouthed kisses against your neck — causing you to moan.
"Fuck." You breathed.
"You're alway so sensitive here." He teased, licking the vein on the side of your neck.
His fingers moved to undo the laces of your gown as yours simultaneously undid the laces on his trousers.
His trousers loosened, your fingers sliding under the waistband— rubbing his hard cock.
He groaned, losing his focus.
"It's been too long.. since I've been able to have a moment with you like this."
You brought your lips back to his with a hum.
The two of you stumbled back towards the desk near the corner, his hand on the small of your back and guiding you.
Your body bumped against the desk, Jace's hand going under your ass— lifting you onto it.
"I love you, my sweet wife."
"I love you more." You breathed, gliding your tongue against his bottom lip.
He pulled at your corset, his hands groping your breasts.
"I want you." You whined.
He caressed your face, "you already have me and you always will."
You pulled up your gown, while he adjusted his trousers.
He lined himself up with your entrance, "don't get too loud, remember the door isn't locked."
You rolled your eyes, "I wonder why?"
He kissed you, a laugh escaping his throat.
The taste of his lips on yours was a taste that you could never get used to.
Jace slowly and gently pushed his cock inside you, making you gasp.
"Gods, you are so wet and tight." He groaned.
Jace was never a rough lover, he was always gentle and went slow making sure that you were okay. He wanted you to feel good, making your pleasure his top priority.
His fingers gripped your thighs as he thrusted into you, his cock stretching like it was the first time.
You brought your hand to the nape of his neck, your fingers curled around it— with pieces of his hair intertwined.
"That feels very good." You whimpered.
"Good, good. I want you to feel so good." He moaned.
His cock was deep inside you, your cunt clenching around him as his head dragged along your sensitive spot.
"Jace." You gasped.
It felt so good, being close with again— even despite the stress.
He brought his hand down, his finger circling your sensitive clit as he got closer to finishing.
Your chest rose and fell fast, moans falling from your lips— music to Jace's ears.
"Oh, oh." You cried out, clenching even harder around his cock.
"That's it my love, finish for me. I know you want to." He coached, his breath mingling with yours. Both of you on the edge and so close to going over together.
His name fell from your lips over and over, your eyes rolling back in your head and you reached you peak— Jace following you immediately after.
He pressed his head against yours, both of you reeling from the intense pleasure.
"I wasn't too rough, was I?" He breathed.
You shook your head, kissing his cheek.
"Not at all, my gentle prince."
A loud knock rang from the door, startling both of you— your eyes wide.
"Jace.. the door." You mumbled.
"Who is it?" Jace asked, his voice raised.
"It's Baela! I need to talk to both of you, there's a problem." She spoke from the hall.
Both of you rushed to get proper before opening the door, "one moment!" Jace shouted.
He tied the laces to your gown, hiding his smirk.
"I would say that was very good, maybe we can do it again tonight."
You laughed, "if you play your cards right."
Jace raced to open the door, an awkward look on his face— Baela eyeing both of you.
"What has happened?" Jace questioned.
"There have been an armada of ships spotted, a war in the gullet."
Jace looked back at you, "they have sprung their trap."
He left out of the room, Baela following him— but you stayed behind in the room.
The once sweet moment between you and your husband, now leaving and you instead are filled with dread.
Jace returned to the room a few minutes later, slamming the door behind him.
"What did she say?" You asked, a panicked look on your face.
"I had Ser Lorent lock her up in her room, with orders to not let her out—"
Your mouth dropped in shock, "you did what?"
"I will not let her get herself killed! She is not thinking rationally. If she gets killed then this was for nothing, we have nothing!"
He walked over to you in two strides, grabbing your hands.
"My love, we can do this for her—"
"We can give her this victory without her risking her life. We have Vermax and you have Silverwing, they won't see us coming."
You gently pulled your hands from his with a look of uncertainty, "Jace.."
He nodded, with that wild smile on his face — the one that he'd always have when he was determined.
"I promise that we can do this, just trust me— okay?"
Your heart thrummed in your chest, a feeling of nausea creeping up your throat.
You trusted your husband, more than anyone else. You just hope that he was right.
You gave him a kiss, letting out a deep sigh.
"Is Baela joining us?"
He nodded, grabbing his gloves from the table.
The three of you made your way to the dragonpit and prepared to leave.
You climbed onto Silverwing, unable to shake the feeling of doing this— worried about what could happen.
You rubbed her back.
"Please, obey me, Silverwing. It is crucial that you do, old girl."
She shrieked in agreement like she always does when you speak.
The three of you took off, flying to give aid.
ꕀ
That day the skies were clear and the wind was calm, the best thing that you could hope for.
"Dracarys, Silverwing." You yelled, flying low so that she could burn a ship.
The three of you seperated, all taking three different areas— burning the enemy ships as effectively as you could.
Unbeknownst to any of you, the bitchfist had a scorpion and with that scorpion they had a large rope attached.
Jace circled around while you and Baela burnt two ships together, Lohar firing the scorpion.
You heard the roar of Vermax, which cause you to look to their direction. Your stomach sank as you noticed the rope and Vermax inching lower towards the water.
"Defend Vermax!" You shouted in High Valyrian.
Silverwing immediately changed course, flying his direction as fast as she could. Baela and Moondancer trailing behind you.
You could hear Jace giving Vermax commands as you inched closer.
Thankfully, there was enough room below them for Silverwing to fly under and let you slice the rope— freeing them.
You felt like you could breathe again.
Your relief was cut short when you saw a different dragon had joined the three of you, burning Rhaenyra's ships.
"Kill the rider, Silverwing."
She flew towards the dragon, a dragon that looked rougher than any you had seen— it also seemed older.
That dragon breathed fire at you as you got closer, causing you to to adjust.
Silverwing circled back around, chomping her jaws.
You got a closer look at the rider, Silverwing scratching the dragon — making him bellow in pain.
"No, Silverwing!" You pulled the reigns, directing her away.
It was Rhaena. How did Rhaena get a dragon? and why wasn't her dragon listening? Why was she burning our ships?
Jace flew closer to you as he also evaded the dragon, the dragon now chasing Moondancer.
"That's Rhaena!" You yelled.
You were at a loss, trying to get away from her dragon and also trying to keep from being hurt by the scorpion.
You burned a few more ships.
They fired the scorpion again, hitting Vermax.
Vermax was going down a lot quicker that time and he seemed very injured.
"Oh, Gods." You mumbled.
Rhaena's dragon had not given up on Baela and Moondancer yet, so she couldn't help.
Vermax was almost touching the water, so you couldn't cut the rope. Silverwing has flown close to water to help before and she always followed your lead.
You watched as your husband struggled, giving commands and Vermax now flapped his wings in the water.
You flew as close as you could, unclipped your belt that held you in and jumped into the water.
The water was ice cold, sending a shock to your body.
You swam as fast as you ever have, pulling the knife from your belt and cutting Vermax's rope— almost cutting yourself in the process.
Cutting his rope was difficult, because he kept trying to move and break free on his— but you did it.
You watched as it seemed like he wouldn't be coming up, but within a second he flew from the water— a roar coming from his lungs.
The water thrashed against you as you came up, gasping for air. You wiped you eyes, staring at all the carnage around you.
You whistled for Silverwing, hoping that she could hear you in the water with all the chaos.
Rhaena was finally able to get her dragon to leave, giving Baela the ability to return her focus to the ships and the two of you.
Jace urged Vermax to turn back towards you to help, Silverwing creeping behind them as she heard your whistle
You grabbed onto a broken board, a sharp pain radiating in your back— making you wheeze.
"No!" Jace yelled, watching it happen as he couldn't get close enough fast enough.
You turned, somewhat disoriented— not understanding that you'd just been shot by an arrow.
Another one was fired off, hitting you in the stomach.
Silverwing screeched in agony as if she herself were being wounded, burning the ship on the way to you.
Your blood spilled out into the water, Vermax unwilling to fly low enough to get you.
Baela couldn't get Moondancer to either.
Silverwing flew near, her wings flapping against the water as she waited for you to climb on.
You winced in pain, raising your arm to climb on her back.
"Help me.. I can't." You wheezed.
She shook, helping your weak body onto her. You crawled into your seat, feeling like your body was on fire.
"Take me home, old girl."
ꕀ
When you got into the dragon pit, Rhaenyra was preparing to leave on Syrax as the three of you arrived. Ser Lorent released her as he began to worry that three of you could get hurt.
Jace rushed to get off of Vermax, running to Silverwing to help you.
You were limp and your breaths were ragged.
"Have you lost your fucking senses?—"
"Why would you ever disobey my orders that way?" Rhaenyra yelled.
Her anger immediately died in her throat when she saw jace running towards her with you in his arms.
"God's what happened?"
Jace cried, "she saved me and Vermax. Please, help her."
Rhaenyra's eyes flickered over the two arrows sticking out of you.
"Baela, get the Maester!" Rhaenyra demanded.
Baela raced out of the dragonpit.
Jace carried you into your shared chambers, commotion ensuing around you as the Maester rushed in to take care of you.
Tears welled in his eyes, seeing you in this state. He almost lost you and very well still could, he could’ve lost you because you had to save him.
Rhaenyra walked in, placing her hand on Jace’s shoulder.
“Are you alright?—“
“Look at me.”
Jace wiped his eyes, staring at his mother and feeling like a little boy all over again— feeling the same way when he heard about Lucerys.
Rhaenyra pulled him into a hug.
“The Maester will do everything that he can to save her, do not fret. She is strong, she is blood of the dragon and she will be okay.”
She took Jace out in to the hall, getting him out of the way while you were worked on. Although she was angry, she would save her scolding for another time.
The arrows did a number on you, the Maesters hoping for your sake that they didn't hit any internal organs.
Luckily, they didn't.
Hours had passed by before they came out of your chambers, Jace still pacing the hall alongside Baela and biting his nails.
The door to your room opened, the servants stepping out with bloodied bandages and bowls of dirty water.
They rushed over, the Maester standing in the doorway.
"My prince—"
"Is she alright? Is my wife alright?" Jace interrupted.
"Yes, she is doing well." He replied.
Jace sighed, the weight on his chest feeling lifted.
He was so glad that you were okay, he needed you to be okay.
"We removed the arrows and handled the bleeding. As of now, we do not suspect that they hit any internal organs. She was given some milk of the poppy and might be out of it for a while, but we expect a full recovery."
Jace hugged Baela in a moment of joy, both of them happy to hear the news.
Jace entered the room, shutting the door behind him.
You laid in the bed, bandaged up— still sleeping.
Jace pulled off his doublet and his boots before crawling into bed beside you.
He gently pulled you closer to him, his head pressed against yours.
"Ow." You mumbled.
He kissed your forehead, "I was worried about you.. so worried."
"I'm okay.. I just hurt, everywhere." You hissed.
He pushed your hair away from your face.
"I could've lost you." He admitted, his voice shaky.
He sniffled, wiping his tears.
"I cannot lose you too.. please, never leave me—"
"I won't. I will be yours until the day that I die, just like I promised." You reassured him, still trying to sleep.
He chuckled, his thumb rubbing against your shoulder.
"You make me feel like the luckiest man alive, my brave wife."
Hiking up your beautiful woven red and black dress he insisted you wear tonight. You could tell by the way he was staring at you all night he wanted this, need it in fact. Kept sneaking glances at you while others tried to take his attention away.
The taste of you alone sent him into a groaning and grinding mess, sending vibrations to your cunt. His gorgeous nose rubbing against your clit perfectly.
"R-Right there sy-oh fuck" you managed to let out as he continued to go, sucking you dry of everything you're worth.
He had you up against your apartment wall, being too needy to even wait a few more seconds. He slowly snaked two fingers into you, pumping in and out while he lapped up your juices. He knew you were close by the twitching in your stomach.
"Give it to me kitten, need it s'bad" he muttered, breaking away from your pussy before immediately diving back in. Gripping his shoulders like he was your life line, you were so close.
With one final curl of his fingers, you let go. Riding his face until your high was over. He tried his best not to cum at the sight, wanting to save it for when you both are comfortably in bed.
Panting, you look down just to see a smiling sylus staring back "get out you dork" you giggle before pulling him up for a kiss.
Have you watched or are you going to watch the new Superman movie? If so, would you write about a Superman!Reader? Like, a Superman!Reader in Jujutsu Kaizen or another fandom you prefer.
Love your writing!
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐧
pairing: platonic yandere!batfam x neglected!super!gn!reader (ft. platonic!clark kent x neglected!super!gn!reader)
summary: your family learns that overlooking one person might bring a lot of trouble. Especially if that someone's mother is from Krypton.
warnings: mentions of neglect, major character death!!!, that death could be considered a suicide in a way, batfam's obsession develops too late, unspecified family relations with Clark Kent, Lazarus Pit mentioned, there are no healthy coping mechanisms in this one, Jason's death mentioned, Superman is MAD, I have no clue how they bury the dead on Krypton I just be making shit up, body horror, post Pit insanity, jokes about graves and their sizes? (there's one but like it can be sensitive subject idk)
a/n: I've been in the mood for some neglected reader lately so…
There were parts of you that always knew you were destined to end like this. Your body restrained by cuffs made out of Kryptonite, at the mercy of Gotham's most infamous clown.
You knew you didn't have long before the Kryptonite poisoning would kill you. Assuming Joker won't grow bored of watching you wither away and end this faster.
A part of you still clung to hope that your dad would come and save you. Just like you watched him do with Tim or Damian. Keeping the promise he made to his kids that he won't let another death happen. Not from Joker. Not like he let Jason pass.
You hoped that even if he didn't show it, Bruce considered you to be one of his children. And while you weren't his top priority, you still made the list.
You knew you weren't Bruce's favourite child. You realised that very quickly as you settled into the manor. The birthdays no one seemed to care to remember, the school recitals, and the awards ceremonies. All events you were forced to celebrate by yourself.
You knew that your heritage was part of the reason why they didn't want to be around you.
Damian made sure to let you know that the only reason you exist is because your mother 'tricked' his father into thinking she was a human. 'Father would never lie with a woman like your mother; he has standards,' he once told you. You will never forget the punishment you received after attacking him that night.
Bruce never wanted you to become a hero. He did everything in his power to keep you away from this life. You hated it at first. Hated being the only one with powers in this stupid family, yet being kept away from the one thing you could actually be useful for.
Clark was the only one there for you. Even if Bruce was against you and him having any relationship, there wasn't much he could do to stop two Kryptonians with flying powers from spending time together.
Clark helped you design your suit and asked his mother to make it. You remember the first time you got to put it on. The way it felt stretched across your skin. You remember the first time Clark took you out to help him save Metropolis.
And you remember the argument he shared with Bruce. You remember each tear you shed, watching Batman destroy your suit, the one Martha poured her heart into making.
Your second suit you made all by yourself; it was mimicking the one Martha made, using the scraps of fabric from the old one to keep a piece of her with you. You wanted to keep helping people, even if that meant you had to make a thousand more suits like this one. Even if that meant having to leave the manor and never come back.
You rarely helped out in Gotham since none of the Bats were interested in working with you, and you much preferred patrolling the night sky along with Superman. Because of that, there weren't many villains that knew your connection to them.
Joker happened to be one of them.
You start to wonder if maybe you should've listened to Bruce when he told you that you're not fit to be a hero. Maybe you shouldn't fight this hard to save people.
Maybe then you wouldn't be in this situation. Maybe you wouldn't be helped by the Joker, him broadcasting you to the world to see.
And maybe then you wouldn't have to rely on Batman to come and save you.
You didn't want to think about him not coming. You had to cling to the last bits of hope that he will bust through the door at any moment to sweep you in his arms. Tell you that it will all be alright.
"Dad…" you whispered, one lonely tear running down your cheek.
Joker bursts out laughing, his body folded in half with his arms around his stomach.
"He's not coming! He'll just get another one like he did with that second robin!!!" Joker keeps laughing, coming up to you to grab your face.
"You don't get it! He doesn't care; none of them ever did!" He screams, the drops of his saliva hitting your face, getting into your eyes. "They will be so happy that you're dead! One mouth less to feed. One less freak in the manor" he laughs again, stepping away.
"This time, I will make sure there's no body for them to revive." Joker has his back to you and you can't see what he's grabbing.
Only then do you realise that you can't rely on someone that never came to save you before. But you knew who did. Someone that you practiced Kryptonian way of log distance communication.
'Superman…' Your voice was quiet, and you had to hope it wasn't too quiet for him to hear you.
You try to reach Clark again, but your body slumps unconscious against the chair.
You didn't know that Clark was already searching for you. He only saw a second of the broadcast before flying off to find you. His entire being was focused on trying to find you when you reached out, your voice ringing quietly in his mind.
It was enough for him to find the basement of the old warehouse Joker dragged you into.
He sweeps in, wind howling as he flies into the dark space. He threw Joker's body into the nearest wall, knocking him unconscious.
Joker wasn't Clark's priority. You were. He left the clown for the bats to deal with. Or for the maniac to escape, he couldn't care. Not when your cold body was resting against his.
Not when no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't feel your heartbeat.
His entire world came crashing down when the robots confirmed the worst. You were no longer on this world with him.
Clark sobbed, holding your cold body against his. The tears that fell from his eyes slowly wetted the top of your head. He kept whispering apologies, begging you to forgive him.
But the sadness didn't last. No, Clark was furious. At Joker for doing this to you. At himself for not being there sooner. At Batman for not saving his child, like he vowed to do. At the world that kept spinning even though you no longer could breathe.
And his anger only grew when the family came to collect the body. Seeing them unable to meet his eyes because of the shame they felt made the last piece of human in him snap.
Clark ordered the robots to throw the Waynes out of the fortress, making sure they're warned to not return. He was the only one in your family, no one else. Especially not the ones that let you die in the first place.
The ones that didn't try to join you on your patrol. The one that didn't bother putting a tracker on you, even though each of his kids had multiple on them just in case.
None of them deserved you. They never did, and Clark understood that now.
Every part of him felt guilty for not taking you away from Bruce sooner, scooping you up and taking you home. You always loved visiting his parents' farm, and you'd be ecstatic to live there.
It was too late now, and Clark had to learn to accept it.
He decided to give you a proper burial. A month-long ceremony fit for someone from Krypton. Since the human part of your family never celebrated you, giving you a human burial felt wrong.
You always were more attached to the Kryptonian side of you, taking every bit of information regarding your mother's planet with sparkling eyes and wishing to be able to experience Krypton.
In the Batcave, the entire family is gathered in the movie room of the manor. Earlier that day, Alfred found videos you made during ceremonies. Ones where you had no one by your side, the camera either held by a teacher or propped up on chairs to record the stage as you accepted rewards.
You still smiled, even in the ones where you wished yourself a 'happy birthday' and blew out a candle on the store-bought cupcake.
Smiled, when some of them doubted they would be able to.
All those years, all the times they should've been there for you. Where he should be there for you.
Bruce knew they still had a chance. You could still become a part of their family. They will make sure to not let anything bad happen to you ever again.
They just have to convince Superman that Pit was the right way.
"No." Superman's voice came out clipped, cold. There was no way he would let them take you.
In his eyes it was inhumane to throw you into the Lazarus Pit and bring you back. He would do anything to have you back, but the Pit was not the answer.
Bringing people back from the dead was not the answer.
You deserved to rest, even if that broke his heart. If there was anyone that deserved peace after their death, it was you.
"They deserve a Kryptonian burial, and they will receive one." Superman didn't bother turning around to face Batman, his body facing one of the many computers. "Their remains will be buried on my parent's farm in Kansas; you will be free to visit the grave after the soil sets."
"There won't be a huge grave then," Green Lantern chuckled from his seat on Clark's right.
Superman shook his head, glancing towards Green Lantern.
"What does he mean by that, Superman?" This time Batman's voice was cold, his arms crossed against his chest.
"By the end of the ceremony their body will be burnt, their ashes will rest in the grave," Superman sighed, finally turning towards Batman.
"I'm the one that should decide—"
"You're the reason they're dead, Bruce! You have no right to say what will happen to their body!" Superman stormed out of the Watchtower.
The rest of the family were unhappy about Clark hogging your body all for himself, but knowing he's planning on burning it sent them over the edge.
They had to get you back and keep you away from that insane man.
Getting into the fortress wasn't hard. Not for Batman and his gang of kids. And especially when one of those kids happens to date Superman's clone.
The kids focus on the robots, attacking them so they won't intrude or contact Superman. Bruce didn't fight; his focus was on retrieving your body and tucking it safely into his plane.
They already choose which Pit will be the most suitable one for dipping your body into. They couldn't risk anything not going according to their plan.
On the way Dick insisted on keeping your head on his lap, his thumb stroking your cheek as the tears rolled down his face. He could never forgive himself for letting his little sibling end up like this.
They will fix it. You will come back, and Dick will take you out for ice cream. Or if you don't like it, he will buy you other treats. Whatever you like will be yours; you will just have to say so.
The family gathers along the edge of the body of green liquid, watching as Bruce steps into it with your body in your arms.
Once the liquid reaches his hips, Bruce lowers your body into it, allowing you to fully submerge in the Pit. Your body disappears under the surface, and the family are holding their breaths, waiting for the alive you to spring out of the liquid.
Moments pass with no movement in the Pit, no hand reaching out, no head coming above it. Nothing.
Then, the liquid changes colour in the place where your body was put in. It was no longer the bright green it was supposed to be. No, now it was muddy, brown mixed with dark red. Something wasn't right.
Bruce reached into the liquid to pull your body out. Your eyes were still sealed shut, your chest still unmoving. The skin on your buddy started bubbling as the acid was thrown on you. Bruce panicked, rushing out to get you far from the Lazarus Pit.
But he was late, and the damage was already done.
The family watched in horror as your skin began to dissolve, uncovering the muscles underneath. The cave smelt of rotten flesh, and Stephanie had to keep her hand close to her mouth to stop herself from throwing up.
They tried to stop the dissolving, using wet wipes to clean what remained of your skin. When that didn't help and your muscles were fully uncovered, they realised that whatever dissolved your skin was now eating at your muscles.
Tim found water bottles in the plane, and he and Cass started to dump them one by one, hoping that will stop your body from decaying further.
But nothing worked.
There was nothing they could do to stop it.
And your body kept dissolving until there was nothing more left than bones, dressed in the white clothes Clark picked out for you.
You and park were intimidating, both of you were in charge of every room that you walked into. Despite not saying anything, your presence alone made the residents nervous.
They’d whisper about the two of you as you’d walk out of rooms, making both of you laugh about it afterwards.
It was a surprise to no one, when the two of you started sleeping together.
He could match your energy and understood you best, but even then—Park wanted it to be casual. You also wanted it to be casual and didn’t mind.
Casual.
The sex was great, Park would fuck the shit out of you and then cuddle you afterwards— which was the problem.
Park said that he wanted it to be casual, but the truth was— he could never be casual about you.
Your smile relaxed him, your kisses warmed his skin, your laugh brought him happiness, and your moans drove him crazy.
He wanted you, all of you— not just sex. He thought that no-strings attached would make things easier, considering the two of you worked together— but he grossly underestimated how he’d feel about you.
Also, despite everything— he never thought about the fact that you could’ve taken his words at face value.
It was just casual, right?
Park was busy and you’d been called down to examine a man whose foot had been severed off. You examined the wound and the foot that was bagged near him.
The orders flew out of your mouth before you could process it, Whittaker and Santos rushing to do what you had asked.
You pulled your gloves off, exchanging a glance with Robby.
One of your gloves hit the floor and as you bent over, your pink lace panties were on display for Robby.
A sight that made him need to bite his lip.
Robby wasn’t the only one who noticed you, but so did Park as he entered the room.
Park wanted to believe that he’d saw something else and not Robby openly staring at your ass. Even the mere thought pissed him off.
Surely, you weren’t sleeping with anyone else— right? and especially not Robby?
You gave a smile— throwing your gloves away and exiting the room.
Park could barely focus, thinking about you potentially fucking Robby or how maybe you did see things as just casual.
You and Robby hadn’t been a thing for long, it was just something that happened unexpectedly. Robby was different from Park, he was a lot more closed off— he kept his life separate from sex.
You normally only fucked Robby, if Park was too busy. It was a simple arrangement, no feelings involved—just two men fucking you and giving you multiple orgasms.
Time had passed by and Park had time to kill, he needed to see you and talk to you.
Maybe, confessing his feelings at work wasn’t a good idea— but he needed to tell you. He didn’t want to wait and chance missing his opportunity.
He searched the hospital, even texted you— but got no response.
The lights buzzed above him as he took the elevator downstairs, hoping to find you — peeking into the empty rooms.
He was finally about to give up, when he opened the door to the last room. It was dark with the curtains pulled in front of the door.
He pulled back the curtain and his heart dropped.
There you were— pinned against the wall, Robby’s mouth on your neck and his hand down your pants.
he won’t admit it, of course he’s katsuki bakugo. but you’ve seen the way he softens, just barely, when your fingers slip through the wild tufts of blonde he pretends not to care about. he’ll grumble, call you a weirdo, say something about “touchin’ without askin’,” but he never pulls away. not once.
because it’s comforting, the way your nails scrape gently at his scalp. the way you untangle the knots life has left behind, with patience no villain ever dared show him. his hair, like his temper, is untamable, spiked and defiant, but you hold it like a secret, like you were born knowing it. and slowly, over time, he begins to trust your hands more than his own silence.
sometimes it’s after missions, when the adrenaline’s wearing off and his body still feels like smoke. you’ll sit behind him on the couch, his head in your lap, and wordlessly thread your fingers through his hair. you won’t speak, not yet. you’ll just comb through the gold and fire and ash of him until his breathing evens, until he forgets how to be angry for a while. and that’s when you’ll hear it, the barely audible, a quiet sigh escaping his chest, as if the storm has finally tired itself out.
kther times, it’s late, stars heavy above your windows, the night pressing in like an old friend. he’ll flop onto your bed after a long day, face-first into your pillow, muttering curses into the fabric. “back hurts. brain’s fried. world’s stupid.” you’ll laugh and settle beside him, your fingers already finding their rhythm in his hair before he even asks. not that he would.
but there are days, precious and rare, when he’ll crawl over, eyes tired but heart loud, and wordlessly nudge his head toward your lap. he doesn’t need to speak. you’ll smile, trace the crown of his head with gentle hands, and kiss his temple like a promise.
and sometimes, somewhere between the soothing cadence of your touch and the warmth of being understood without question, katsuki bakugo who is loud, brash, relentless, finally falls asleep.
with your fingers still in his hair.
and somehow, the world makes a little more sense like that.
SUMMARY: A frustrated figure skater who transferred from Illinois has only one goal: keeping her athletic scholarship this season, and she’ll do anything to change the way people on campus see her — especially if it means improving her image for pairs skating. Even if it costs her a fake relationship with the same person who spread the nickname that turned her into “Ice Heart.”
WARNING: SMUT AHEAD CONTENT RELATED TO SEX, RELATIONSHIPS, AND DISORDERS CONTENT CONTAINS FACTS, BUT REMEMBER THIS IS FANFICTION, IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, LEAVE!
MASTERLIST
0.4 here
0.3 Confused
Things have been confusing. Not the kind of confusing where I don’t know what to do, but the kind where I don’t know what I’m doing. Because I really don’t.
John Logan and I haven’t seen each other in three weeks, we haven’t given a single sign that we’re together because guess what? We’re not. John Logan can’t stand me and he uses his sharp-ass humor to make that painfully clear. And honestly, my knees had been bruised so
many times during those two weeks that I could barely remember the fake story Logan and I had told everyone.
Until now…
“So you and Logan are just hooking up and nothing else?”
Allie’s question came like a ghost with bad intentions right behind my ear. She was supposed to be working her shift right now, not making me spiral over the mess I created myself.
“I… I don’t know, are we something?”
“But nothing exclusive?”
She asked while walking around the counter and leaning toward me.
“No…” That´s the same thing i told Hannah this morning. I started hesitating immediately.
“We never talked about it.”
“Well, you probably should because I saw him flirting with a redhead today and it honestly made me sick for you.”
“We’re okay. Thanks for telling me anyway.”
I smiled at her and looked down at my phone where I kept hoping for a notification, a call, something that showed I mattered.
“You going home for the summer?”
Allie’s question came softer this time and I shook my head.
“No, maybe after the season ends. Depends.”
“Your parents love you, sweetie. Don’t worry.”
She said while grabbing my hand and rubbing her thumb against the back of it.
“Yeah, I’m sure they do.”
I snorted out a sarcastic laugh and Allie let go of my hand, glancing over my shoulder before lightly tapping the counter.
“Great, table eight needs me and now someone else can take care of you.” She said, and before I could ask what she meant, two arms wrapped around my neck and Logan’s lips pressed quickly against my cheek.
“You need taking care of?”
“Yes, she does.”
Allie answered for me with a curious smile while grabbing the mug to my left, probably making a thousand assumptions in her head already.
Which scared the hell out of me.
“Hey.”
He said, sitting down on the stool beside mine while I took another sip of my tequila sunrise.
“My friends are getting suspicious.”
I muttered while looking at him from the corner of my eye and John Logan nodded.
“Yeah, the guys asked questions too.” He sighed and I felt him watching me. “Sorry. This week’s been shit.”
I looked at him then, and his eyes met mine with more honesty than I’d seen from him in a long time.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them and he smiled a little without looking away from me.
“You work, right?”
I asked softly, taking another sip of my drink.
“Family business. I'm a mechanic in my free time, very fun.”
He said it casually, but I could swear he didn’t sound happy about it.
“I bet, all that grease and engine oil dripping on you feels exciting.´´
"It's a turn-on, believe me," he joked, and I laughed, lowering my head slightly.
´´Good to know who to call when my car dies.”
“I’m your guy.”
I looked at him and for a second my heart jumped in a way that felt weird as hell. What the hell was that?
My chest still felt tight while Logan watched me with that irritatingly calm look of his.
Like he knew exactly what he did to me.
He gently pulled my tequila sunrise from my hand and took a sip without asking permission. I rolled my eyes immediately.
“You’re obnoxious.”
“And you have terrible taste in drinks.”
“Then don’t drink it.”
“Too late.”
He set the glass back in front of me and rested his arm against the counter, leaning a little closer. His scent — soap, mint, and something ridiculously masculine — invaded my space way too fast. Way too dangerous.
“You look tired.”
The comment came low.
Real.
Not teasing.
“Practice,” I mumbled. “And exams. And life generally sucking.”
“Hm.”
Logan stared at me for a second too long.
“You’ve been limping a little.”
My face heated instantly.
“I am not limping.”
“gorgeous, you almost tripped walking in here.”
“Will keeps dropping me.”
His eyes hardened immediately.
Again.
His jaw tightened and he looked away for a second like he was trying to control some over-the-top reaction. Which was weird because I’d started noticing a pattern whenever the topic came up.
“You know what? Wanna get outta here?” Logan pointed toward the door and I followed his gaze before he added, “It’ll look convincing.”
“You’re not planning to murder me, are you?”
“You’ve been helping me lately, so no.”
He said it while holding out his hand for me to take.
And I did.
“Great.”
Logan intertwined his fingers with mine without hesitation, like it was natural. Like we were natural. We walked out of the bar under a bunch of curious stares and my cheeks burned when he dramatically opened the truck door for me.
“What a gentleman.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Oh, right. Your ego won’t allow it.”
I climbed into the truck trying to ignore how much it smelled like Logan. He started driving without explaining where we were going.
“You’re really kidnapping me.”
“Maybe.”
“That’s kinda romantic.”
“You seriously need better standards.”
I smiled while looking out the window as campus disappeared behind us.
“Not if my standards are dark romance standards.”
“They’re not. You’re too doll-like for hardcore shit.”
Logan let out a quiet laugh through his nose, eyes still on the road lit only by the truck headlights. I gasped dramatically.
“That was offensive on multiple levels.”
“It was an observation.”
“You barely know me. Maybe I have a dark and problematic side.”
He finally looked at me for a second, a crooked smile slowly appearing.
“gorgeous, you order tequila sunrise. Your dark side is probably returning library books late.”
“Oh my God, I hate you! Just because I’m not some slutty manwhore like you who sleeps with anything with a hole under a skirt doesn’t mean I don’t like stuff.”
I huffed loudly.
Logan slowly turned his head toward me. And then he started laughing.
Actually laughing. His head tipped back slightly while he covered his mouth trying and failing to control himself.
“Did you just call me a slutty manwhore?”
“You heard me perfectly.”
“My God, gorgeous…” he kept laughing. “You get really aggressive when you’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous! You think I’m jealous over some slutty manwhore?”
“Absolutely.”
I crossed my arms and dramatically turned toward the window.
“You’re unbearable.”
“And you just described me like I’m a walking STD. That hurts.”
“Oh please. You know exactly what reputation you have.”
“My reputation is wildly exaggerated.”
I let out an incredulous laugh.
“Logan, there are literally stories about you in the girls’ dorm.”
“Good stories at least?”
I looked at him, offended.
“You’re impossible.”
He smirked like he wasn’t offended at all.
Worse. He looked entertained.
Logan’s amused smile slowly faded. Slowly. Until only silence remained.
He stared at me now with this strange expression, intense enough to make my stomach tighten. It wasn’t arrogance. Or teasing.
It was almost… vulnerable. But I didn’t know how to read John Logan when he got like this.
“What?”
I asked, and he shook his head.
“Nothing.”
I looked down toward the window while silence filled the truck.
“So… did our casual sex help distract you from the fact you’re still in love with Hannah?” I asked and felt John Logan choke in the driver’s seat.
“I told you I’m not in love with her. Or Garrett.”
“Then what is it, Logan?”
“My parents are divorced, my dad’s an alcoholic who should be in rehab but isn’t because we can’t afford it, and I’ve never actually seen love work. I never had an example of it. But when I look at those two… deep down I realized that if I ever find someone, I’d want what they have.”
“But you don’t believe you’ll get that, do you?”
I asked honestly, and his gaze dropped heavily on me while he parked somewhere I hadn’t even noticed. For a second, Logan just sat there.
Hands still on the wheel. Jaw tight. Like he’d already said more than he meant to.
“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I think… people like me don’t usually get that kind of thing.”
My chest tightened immediately.
Because for the first time since I met John Logan, he didn’t look like the funny, arrogant, impossible guy who flirted without thinking. He just looked… tired. Human.
“People like you?”
He let out a humorless laugh.
“You know.”
“No, I don’t.”
Logan finally looked at me.
“Baby, I’m the guy who’s slept with half the campus and avoids thinking too hard because when I do…” he hesitated. “I usually don’t like what I find.”
That hurt more than it should’ve.
“That doesn’t make you incapable of loving someone.”
He held my gaze for a second too long.
“Maybe it makes me incapable of believing someone would stay.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Cruel.
My chest tightened so hard it almost hurt. Because I understood that feeling more than I wanted to admit. The feeling that nobody would actually choose to stay.
“That’s sad as hell, Logan.”
My voice came out softer than I intended. He let out a quiet nasal laugh.
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that before.”
But this time he didn’t sound teasing.
Just tired.
Then he shut off the truck.
It was only when I looked out the window that I realized where we were.
The soft lights.
The giant screen lighting up the dark sky.
The distant sound of a movie echoing through the night.
“I’ve always wanted to go to one of these.”
I looked at his profile and watched him nod.
“I know.”
“You do?”
“I heard you talking about it last month. ´´
My heart stumbled inside my chest.
“You do?”
Logan nodded slowly, eyes still on the drive-in screen.
“You were on speaker with Hannah complaining that every romantic movie feels better at an outdoor theater.”
I frowned immediately.
“You remember that?”
“You’re loud.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He finally looked at me and shrugged way too casually.
“I pay attention to you. You’re a tiny annoying little thing, Y/n.”
The answer came simple.
Weightless.
Without realizing the damage it caused.
Because my heart literally forgot how to function for a second.
Logan looked away first, clearing his throat before climbing out of the truck.
“Come on before the movie ends and you start complaining that I ruined half the cinematic experience.”
I smiled involuntarily while climbing out after him.
The cold wind hit again and I shivered automatically.
I didn’t even have to ask. Logan pulled his gray hoodie over his head and tossed it at me without ceremony.
“Here.”
“You’re gonna freeze.”
“I'm used to it. Just take it. ´´
I rolled my eyes, laughing quietly while putting it on.
Too big. Too warm. Way too much like him.
Logan grabbed an old blanket from the back of the truck and climbed up first, settling against the cab before pulling me up by the hand.
The giant screen partially lit up his face now. And unfortunately, that only made John Logan prettier. Which was deeply irritating.
“So…” I murmured while glancing at the movie halfway through. “You brought me to watch A Knight’s Tale?”
“Perfect movie. Swords, chaos, and Heath Ledger.”
“Oh my God, you like medieval romance.”
“Don’t call it that.”
“You do!”
He immediately pointed a finger at me.
“It has fighting.”
“And forbidden love.”
“And gambling.”
“And love letters.”
“And violence.”
I smiled victoriously when he rolled his eyes.
“You are definitely more romantic than you pretend to be.”
Logan laughed quietly while spreading the blanket over us.
“And you definitely talk too much when you think you’ve figured something out.”
I leaned my head back against the truck, watching the screen in silence for a few seconds.
For the first time in weeks my head didn’t feel like a complete disaster.
Maybe because Logan was strange tonight. More honest and less performative.
“And you know? You shouldn’t say you’re incapable of receiving love or making someone stay just because your parents couldn’t stay together. You’re not them.”
I whispered while curling a little closer against the warmth of his body. I refused to look up because I knew he was staring at me.
“I hope not.”
I heard him murmur.
My chest tightened at the quiet answer.
Not because it sounded dramatic.
But because it sounded honest.
And honesty from John Logan was rare.
Slow.
Careful.
Like a wounded animal getting close enough to decide whether to run.
I slowly turned my face toward him.
“Do you really think you’re that impossible to love?”
Logan kept his eyes on the movie screen.
But I caught the exact moment his jaw tightened.
“I think I spent too much time watching people leave.”
The answer came simple.
Without self-pity. Which somehow made it worse.
The cold wind passed through the drive-in again and I hugged myself while the light from the screen crossed his face. Logan watched me pretending I wasn’t shivering. Pretending the cold wasn’t cutting straight through me. His expression shifted almost imperceptibly before he let out a quiet laugh through his nose.
“You’re stubborn as hell.”
“And you complain too much.”
“C’mere, baby.” Before I could ask anything, Logan grabbed my waist firmly and pulled me all the way closer. A surprised sound escaped my throat when I ended up basically sitting between his legs in the
back of the truck. His chest immediately pressed against my back.
His knees rested on either side of me while the blanket wrapped around us better now. And damn. It really was warmer there. Way warmer.
“Better like this,” he murmured near my ear.
My heart started beating way too fast when I felt his arms wrap around me lazily, keeping me tucked against him. Like it was natural.
Like he’d done this hundreds of times before. But somehow… it didn’t feel rehearsed.
It felt caring.
Which was worse.
Way worse.
“You use girls as portable heaters often?” I asked, trying to sound normal.
I felt his laugh vibrate against my back.
“Only the annoying ones.”
I rolled my eyes automatically, but snuggled a little closer without realizing.
Silence fell again while the movie continued on the giant screen.
But now everything felt different.
Because I could feel every breath he took.
Every tiny movement.
His long fingers resting absentmindedly against my stomach over the hoodie.
The heat of his body surrounding mine completely.
My God.
That was dangerously intimate.
Way more intimate than sex.
His head tilted slightly until his lips brushed near my temple without actually kissing me.
“Warm now?”
The question came low. Rough. And ridiculously close. I swallowed hard before nodding slowly.
“Mhm.”
“Good.”
But he didn’t let me go.
Not even a little.
Actually, his arms only tightened around me more while he rested his chin on top of my head.
And for the first time in a long time…I felt safe.
“Just so you know. Even though I kinda hate you a little, you deserve someone who stays and loves you because you might not be as bad as I thought you were.”
I said while absentmindedly drawing circles against his chest with my cup, comfortable in the position we were in even though I definitely shouldn’t have been. Logan went completely still behind me.
So still that for a second I thought maybe I’d gone too far.
My head was still resting against his chest while the muffled movie sounds filled the silence between us, but I could hear something else now.
I could fell his heart beat fast against my temple.
His fingers moved slowly over my stomach, almost distracted, like he was thinking too hard before saying anything.
When he finally spoke, his voice came out low.
Very low.
“That was weirdly nice coming from you.”
I rolled my eyes automatically even while heat crawled up my face.
“Don’t get used to it.”
I felt his laugh vibrate against my back again.
But this time it faded quickly.
Because Logan tightened his arms around me a little more before lowering his head near my ear.
“And you’re wrong.”
My chest tightened immediately.
“About what?”
He took a few seconds to answer.
Too many seconds.
“About me not being as bad as you thought.”
I frowned instantly and turned slightly between his legs, just enough to look at his face partially lit by the drive-in screen.
There was no irony in Logan’s expression now. No arrogance.
Just that tired look that kept appearing whenever he forgot to pretend.
“Logan…”
“No, baby,” he interrupted quietly. “You don’t get it.”
His jaw tightened slightly while he looked back toward the movie.
“People like the fun version of me. The easy one. The one who drinks, jokes around, and never takes anything seriously.”
I swallowed hard silently.
“But when things get hard…” he let out a weak laugh. “I’m really good at ruining everything.”
That hit my chest way too hard. Because he didn’t sound like someone fishing for pity. He sounded like someone confessing a truth he’d already accepted a long time ago. And maybe that was what hurt most.
The fact John Logan genuinely believed that.
“You talk like you’re some walking disaster.”
“Maybe I am.”
“You’re not.”
The answer came out too fast.
Too firm.
His eyes immediately dropped to mine.
And shit.
That was a mistake.
Because I felt my entire heart stumble when Logan looked at me like that.
Silent.
Intense.
Like he was trying to understand something impossible.
“You really believe that?” he asked quietly.
I nodded slowly.
“I think you just spent too much time convincing everyone you don’t care about anything.”
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Without humor.
“It’s easier that way.”
“For who?”
Silence.
The question stayed hanging between us while the wind passed through the drive-in again,
lightly moving the blanket around us.
Logan watched me for a few more seconds before lifting one hand toward my face.
slowly like he was giving me time to pull away.
But I didn’t.
His fingers lightly touched my chin, tilting my face up a little more.
His gaze dropped to my mouth for one dangerously long second.
And my God.
The air completely disappeared from my lungs.
“You should stop looking at me like that,” I murmured without thinking.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re gonna kiss me.”
His jaw tightened instantly.
And for the first time that night… John Logan looked nervous because deep down, he seemed just as confused as I was.
“Yeah, but I can’t kiss you,” he grumbled, still not taking his eyes off mine.
“No, you can’t,” I grumbled back, my gaze shifting between his eyes and his lips. “ You can’t, because we’re enemies,” I finished, and he smiled, amused.
“Yeah, we hate each other too much to kiss,” he said, his voice softer than the words suggested, almost like he was testing how far he could push me.
“Yeah,” I said, though it sounded weaker than I intended. “We hate each other too much to kiss.”
He let out a quiet laugh, but there was no real humor in it—just tension.
“That’s the problem,” he muttered. For a second, neither of us moved. The space between us felt smaller than it should’ve been, like the air itself was pulling us closer. My gaze flicked to his lips again before I could stop it. He noticed. Of course he did. “You keep doing that,” he said, his voice lower now.
“Doing what?”
“Looking.”
I swallowed, suddenly aware of how close his mouth was from mine. My heartbeat wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore.
“I’m not doing anything,” I lied. He tilted his head slightly, studying me, then stepped closer until there was barely any space left between us.
´´Liar. ´´
I let out a short breath that didn’t sound convincing even to me.
“What i´m doing, John? ”
´´ Fucking with my head so bad rigth now. ´´
He grumbled, stroking my cheek with his thumb.
´´We can´t. You can´t kiss me, John. ´´
But neither of us moved away. His gaze dropped to my mouth again, slower this time, like he wasn’t even bothering to hide it anymore. My heartbeat skipped.
“You keep saying that,” he murmured.
“Because it’s true.”
“It doesn’t look like you believe it,” he said. Before I could answer, His thumb moved down to my lower lip. The touch stole my breath. His eyes flicked up to mine, darker now, searching my face like he was still deciding whether to stop.
“You’re not helping,” I whispered.
“I know,” he admitted. His thumb lingered a moment longer before he leaned in slightly—close enough that I could feel his breath against my mouth. Not a kiss. Almost.
“Say it again,” he said softly. “Say we shouldn’t.”
“We shouldn’t,” I repeated, but it came out weaker than before.
His lips hovered over mine, barely touching, just a ghost of contact—enough to blur every argument in my head.
“We can’t,” I whispered again, though this time I didn’t sound certain. He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for too long.
“Yeah,” he said, barely audible. “We can’t.”
But again neither of us moved away. And then, like the last thread of restraint snapping all at once, he closed the distance.
Our mouths met—careful at first, then real. Like everything we’d been denying finally stopped mattering.
For a second, everything went still. Then the hesitation broke completely. His hand slid more firmly to my jaw, not rushing me, just holding me there like he’d finally stopped pretending he could stay away. The kiss deepened—slow, conflicted, like neither of us had fully accepted what we were doing even as we kept doing it. My fingers curled into his hair, grounding myself in something real as the rest of the world seemed to fall away. When we finally pulled back just slightly, it wasn’t far enough to create space—just enough to breathe.
His forehead almost touched mine.“This is a bad idea,” he muttered, voice rougher now.
I let out a shaky breath, eyes still on his. “The worst,” I agreed.
