#Cos I wore it as a child...

[darke-faerie]

Happy Birthday Hua Cheng!

Xie Lian found him a very pretty, sparkly, vintage butterfly hair clip. San Lang was very excited he and Gege have matching butterfly hair accessories now!

Although they can't decide which look is better - fringe clipped back or in his ponytail?

(yes I ran out of time to make an origami box sooo a crane had to do...)

[kil9]

aauauauuougghghs i need to move out 👁👁

^^^ [CHEC IT OUT] i need to move out moodboard (available now !!!(

[diabelskoga]

Before I make those starters, I am just thinking of his vampire verse and planning out more of that iron mask. I feel like Sanji has been in those dungeons for years because Sanji does not see eye-to-eye with Judge. He's been probably down there for a century; depending on how I plan this out, it could be different. But the overall thing is that Sanji at that point knows these dungeons like the back of his hand. He knows the secret passages, knows when to slip out if he can. Eventually, Judge will let him out. ( If he decides to let him out, which he does one day. ) Hoping that his useless son would succumb to bloodlust and become something akin to emotionless.

And yes, Sanji has worn the iron mask, but it's been upgraded over the years. Possibly to avoid him from feeding off rats, etc. But he's found a way.

[rowanhoney]

I think growing up around so many people who excelled in their sports was super damaging to me in a way I can’t quite explain

[fear-is-truth]

ALL PART OF HIS PLAN

kai anderson x f! reader￨nsfw. mdni￨wc: 2.4 k

w a r n i n g s – mdni !! porn with plot. oral sex (m receiving). unprotected p in v. dacryphilia. breeding kink (if you squint). english is not my first language. not proofread as usual

summary — mornings spent with kai weren’t always as mundane as it might seem

a/n – this took forever to complete cos every time i open this draft, i spend a good five minutes laughing at the cursed gif and the writing mood is completely ruined.

requested by: @ellaaaaa44

ೃ࿐ .

You woke up when the birds started chirping outside, just as the soft light of dawn filtered through the bedroom windows. Kai was still asleep next to you, his electric blue hair spilling across the white pillow like a halo. You were facing each other, his arm thrown over your waist. Carefully, you inched from under his arm and sat up, feeling the remnants of sleep clinging to your eyes. In the morning stillness, he almost looked innocent, pure, even. But you knew better— Kai Anderson was anything but pure.

Glancing at the digital clock on the bedside table, its red numbers glowing 06:57. It was Saturday, which meant Kai had a political rally scheduled at 10. As his girlfriend, you were expected to accompany him, not just as a supportive partner, but also to adorn his arm and enhance his appeal to the masses.

But Kai was smart. He had made sure the public knew more about you than just your looks. He had purposely made it known that you were well-educated, and a feminist, no less.

At first, you were skeptical about the whole idea, doubting that the media would find interest in speculating about the personal life of a politician. But, as always, Kai proved you wrong—which irked you to no end. The shallow nature of society never failed to disappoint.

The public adored the two of you, seeing you as an ambitious and attractive power couple, and the media lapped it up like hungry dogs. They also conveniently turned a blind eye to some of the more “controversial” political views of Councilman Anderson, choosing instead to focus on the carefully choreographed public displays of affection meant for the cameras—holding hands, stolen chaste kisses that you pretended to think no one was looking. Tabloid rumors ran rampant about your alleged engagement and the potential of a baby on the way, both of which were far from true, thank the fuck Christ.

That, and a couple of satanic killings that involved clowns, Kai had made significant progress in garnering supporters in a remarkably short period of time.

All part of his plan.

You had to admit, despite the circumstances, you and Kai did make quite a nice couple. There was no denying that the sex was mind-blowing and he had world-class cock that had never failed to make you come undone.

Kai was a pretty considerate lover as well, after you admitted your fear of pregnancy during “pinky power”, surprisingly, he didn’t even get mad or punish you, as expected. He told you that he respected your feelings and prioritized your health above his own preferences. Even though he openly expressed his disdain for wearing condoms, Kai stayed true to his word and wore one every time you asked him to, sparing you the stress.

But Kai had made you a promise that once he secured his position in the Senate, he would put a ring on your finger and you’d be the mother of his “messiah baby”. He made it sound like an honor, and you supposed that, in a twisted, fucked-up way, it was— you’d say yes, because it’s always yes for Kai. Even so, as much as you loved him (was it love? Or something stemming from Stockholm Syndrome, you weren’t entirely sure), the idea of bringing a child into the world still scared you shitless.

But again, you didn’t feel you had a say or a choice in the matter. Kai had rescued you from your lowest points, and for that, you were indebted to him for life.

Enough of that. That was phase two of the plan. Focus on the present.

Big day ahead, don’t fuck this up. All you have to do right now is pretty yourself up and smile, smile, smile for the cameras.

With a sigh, you slipped out of the warmth of the covers, careful not to disturb him. You tiptoed across the carpeted floor and into the en suite, closing the door gently behind you.

Yawning, you began to strip off your sleep clothes—starting with a comfortable T-shirt and booty shorts, followed by your bra and panties—tossing them haphazardly into the laundry basket. Then you stepped into the shower, the sound of rushing water filling your ears as you twisted the knob. You closed your eyes and tilted your face upward, feeling the cool spray hit your skin.

You didn't hear the sound of the bathroom door opening, nor the shuffle of clothes hitting the floor. Suddenly, the sliding glass door slid open, and your eyes snapped open in surprise, a yelp escaping your lips.

Kai stood there, undressed. His hair was a tousled mess. He blinked, his gaze sweeping over your naked form with an unimpressed expression.

He even had the audacity to look a bit offended and disgruntled, as if he wasn't the one barging in on your shower.

“Move over,” he grunted, his voice husky with sleep but his tone left no room for argument. You quickly shuffled to the side, making room for him under the spray.

Kai reached past you and turned the water knob to blast hot water, steam billowing around you as the temperature rose. His hair was slicked back by the water, the vibrant blue adding a splash of colour to the monochrome backdrop of black tiles. Head tilted back, his eyes were closed in blissful rapture as warm droplets of shower spray hit his face.

Your gaze wandered from his features to over his torso, taking in the sight in awe.

Kai looked beautiful. godly, even.

Starting from the clavicle of his neck, glistening rivulets of water meandered down, following the chiseled lines of his biceps and the breadth of his toned chest. Continuing their descent, they danced across his abs, taut and sculpted, rippling waves of raw, masculine strength that seemed to beckon you closer; drawing your eyes inexorably downward until they finally converged at the V-line of his lower abdomen.

Without as much as a glance in your direction, Kai reached for the bottle of 3-in-1 men’s shampoo sitting on the wall shelf.

“Like what you see?”

he poured some shampoo onto his palm. His tone was casual but you could sense the smugness. Heat flooded your cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the steam from the shower. Biting your bottom lip, you nodded bashfully.

“Mhm,” he hummed, fingers raking through his damp, blue locks as he pretended to consider.

“Work for it then. Get on your knees,”

You immediately sank to your knees, wrapping your fingers around the base of his shaft before pressing a kiss on the tip. He raised an eyebrow.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing,”

You smiled sweetly up at him before taking the tip between your lips, collecting the precum and swallowing it with a cheerful hum. Starting with kitten licks, you slowly dragged your tongue up the veiny underside of his cock.

“Fuck…” he hissed through his teeth,

“Attagirl– You’re so good at this…”

The heartfelt praise had a greater effect on you than his usual dirty talk ever could, encouraging you to hollow your cheeks with extra gusto, making sure to give a swirl of your tongue every time you reached the tip.

The groan that came from him seemed to validate his approval. Reaching down, Kai threaded his fingers through your hair into a makeshift ponytail to dictate your motion, bucking his hips into your mouth. Even as your eyes watered, you didn’t pull away as he continued to fuck your mouth. Instead, you peered up at him through your eyelashes and occasionally moaned so that he could know how much you appreciated pleasing him.

It wasn’t long until Kai gave your hair a small tug, and slid out with a small pop. He wasted no time snatching you by the underarms and pulling you to your feet.

His eyes raked over your body as if he was seeing you for the first time. One large, calloused hand trailed from your cheek, down to your neck, then to your arm and waist.

Bending down slightly, his hands continued to trace the smooth skin of your thighs, gently securing behind the bend of your knees. Before you could fully register what was happening, Kai was lifting you up effortlessly from the ground as if you weighed nothing at all. You squealed in surprise as he hoisted you up, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for support.

You gazed into his dark eyes to find that the sleep-induced glaze from earlier was now replaced by intense focus and determination. He meant business.

“Stay still, I wanna try something,”

Holding firmly onto your waist, Kai settled you against his hipbones, pausing for a moment to let you wrap your legs eagerly around his waist.

With the shower water cascading above you, it reminded you of the iconic kiss-in-the-rain scene from “The Notebook,” which you had watched together in bed just last week. Well, technically, you were the only one watching; Kai had been either scrolling through his phone or looking irritated the entire time.

Maybe this was just pure coincidence and wishful thinking on your part, or could it possibly be that he was trying to recreate that moment– impossible… right?

The subtle smirk curling his lips and the slight crease of his eyes confirmed your suspicions. So he had listened to your rambles on how hot Ryan Gosling looked. “Kiss me, please,” you begged, and he graciously obliged, claiming your lips in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. You moaned and tangled your fingers into his hair when you felt his tongue slip past your teeth.

Pressing your back against the tiled wall, he positioned himself at your entrance, so that the tip of his cock was spreading your lips open. Then he pulled back from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you both.

Maintaining eye contact, he sank his cock into your awaiting warmth. Your eyes widened and a little “ooh-” tumbled out of your mouth at the sensation of him filling and stretching you.

A small voice in the back of your head warned of the potential consequences—a slip, a fall, and the possibility of ending up in the hospital with a concussion or a bruised tailbone. However, any lingering inhibitions melted away in a heartbeat as Kai angled his thrusts in just the right way, hitting just the right spot that made you see stars.

“Whoa, this angle is– fucking amazing…”

Kai muttered between grunts as he continued to slam into you, rocking your entire body with each of his thrusts. It didn’t take long before the tightened coil inside you snapped completely; your pussy giving one final squeeze before you screamed out your release.

“Nuh-uh, princess. I’m not done with you yet,”

He spun you around, forcing you against the shower wall. You yelped in surprise and instinctively flattened your palms to steady yourself. Gripping your hips firmly to keep you in place, Kai sheathed himself inside you in one swift, brutal stroke.

“Ack- Kai!” you squealed as your cheek was pressed against the wall with a wet smack, feeling your breasts flatten against the cool surface. Your fingernails scrabbled against the slippery tiles, desperately searching for purchase as Kai reared back his hips. You let out a loud wail when he thrust back into you, setting a harsh, punishing pace. His pelvis slamming into your ass with such force that the supple flesh rippled with each thrust.

“Ah f-fuck… mghmm—” your vision was blurry with tears as he bottomed out once again, pressing himself so deep that you could feel every ridge and vein, every delicious throb and twitch—his eagerness to pump you full of his come but also to make you suffer just a little bit for his pleasure.

“Hah- you just love it when I fuck you into my perfect little brain-dead slut, don’t you?”

He grunted, his thrusts becoming progressively sloppier but somehow still maintaining the same pace. Whining pathetically, you wiggled your hips, allowing your cunt to swallow his cock deeper. Lewd schlick shlick noises ricocheted off the walls, dulled by the sound of your moans and pattering water.

“Look at me, little lamb,”

You peered over your shoulder, shiny, fat drops of tears decorating your eyelashes. He smiled fondly at you before pressing a tender kiss on your temple.

“You look so pretty when you cry,”

Kai’s hand brushed past your mound, fingers slipping between your thighs and started stroking; deceptively gentle caresses at the sensitive bundle of nerves until your entire body started to tremble. The hot coil in your belly was now impossibly tight.

“Puh-please please please Kai ‘m gonna c-”

“Go ahead,”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Kai groaned, his head falling to rest on your shoulder, his sloppy thrusts coming to a decrescendo.

“Make a mess on my cock. There you go baby- ahh fuck– yeah just like that,”

Kai buried himself deep inside you and you felt the warmth flooding your insides. He thrust lazily into you for a few more times for good measure, and you could feel his cock continuing to throb and spasm as he buried his come as deep as he could.

When the residual spasms finally waned, he pulled out, your combined release seeping out between your thighs and splattering onto the floor. You shivered from the loss of contact. He smirked, nipped playfully at your earlobe.

“What a way to start a morning, hm?”

…

After the hot water had finally run out and you both had cleaned yourselves, you sighed contentedly as you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel. Despite the soreness between your thighs, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied. This had to be one of the best sex you ever had in your life.

Then, reality came crashing back as you remembered the potential consequences of your reckless actions.

“Kai! You didn’t pull out!” you squeaked, the pitch of your voice raising with panic. You weren’t on birth control either, since Kai was paranoid about side effects.

Kai, still tying his blue hair into a bun in front of the bathroom mirror, turned and looked at you. “The senate election is in the bag. Might as well start trying for a baby now,” he said coolly.

Phase two was already in motion, without you even knowing it.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[a-leg-without-fear]

Because of You (pt.2)🩸🌧️

here's part 2, babes!!!! this one is BEEFY so i hope it's not too boring :)

Ship: Worst!Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader🩸

Rating: 18+

Wordcount: 7.7k

Warnings: spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine, cursing, mentions of violence, mentions of death, grief, alcohol abuse, Wade Wilson is in this, so is Remy LeBeau, suggestive language, mentions of main character death, mentions of child experimentation, ANGST, multiverse shenanigans, self-doubt, kissing

Series: Because of You

The room Logan had woken up in was strange, to say the least. He was clearly underground. Thin windows were dug high into stone walls with an enormous engraving of a woman decorating the ceiling. Shaded lamps lit up the areas not caught in the sunlight from the windows. Random junk, weapons, and blessed alcohol lay strewn about the room.

After he’d spotted the bottles of whiskey, nothing else mattered.

He had never needed a drink more in his life. Stumbling around with Wade, the idiot in red, was shortening his neverending lifespan. Logan was constantly under attack, constantly stressed out of his mind, and constantly annoyed by Wade’s endless chatter. It was like God had finally decided to plop him in hell where he belonged.

Logan stood under one of the windows. A small alcove carved into the rock, with a kitchenette sitting on the stone floor and decorated with various foods and cooking implements. One of his gloved hands leaned on the wall of the alcove while the other lifted the liquor bottle to his lips. Bitter, biting whiskey flowed into his mouth. Sweet relief.

It was nice and quiet. Wade was unconscious on the only bed in the room. Either knocked out or put to sleep, Logan didn’t care. He was just enjoying the silence that had been vacant from his life for the past two fucking days. It had been an unending stream of quips and jokes ever since that red fucker had barged into his life.

The bronze alcohol swirled in the Jim Beam bottle. Specks of dust and whatever else floated around in this cave sloshed around the bottom. Like always, Logan’s thoughts drifted to you. How you’d playfully scold him for drinking directly from the bottle. How you’d grab him a glass, grumbling the whole time about sanitation, then fill the cup with ice and pour his drink for him. 

Lead pooled in his stomach at the memory. Heavy, nearly crushing in its weight. Logan screwed his eyes shut at the sensation.

He would give anything to have you there with him.

That was why he’d committed to helping Wade in the first place. The red idiot had promised that the TVA would be able to bring you back. That they’d fix Logan’s timeline and make things right. That he’d have you in his arms again, your scent filling his sinuses and your warmth burrowing into his chest.

But, of course, Wade was fucking lying. He had no clue if the TVA could fix Logan’s mistakes. The “Merc with the Mouth” had made an empty promise just so Logan would help him.

Logan grit his teeth then knocked back another swig. Fucking “educated wish.” If Wade could actually die, Logan would’ve killed him for saying that.

“Thor!” Wade gasped from behind him. Logan rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, begging a god he didn’t believe in for patience to deal with this red idiot. He glanced over his shoulder at Wade.

Deadpool was, thankfully, still fully clothed. His red suit entirely covered his disgusting skin and even worse smile. The merc’s eyes, white from the mask he wore, darted around the room. Logan scoffed and shifted his gaze back to the stone wall in front of him.

“Where are we?” Wade asked. Logan shrugged.

“No clue. But I like it here,” he replied, raising the bottle to his lips to take another gulp.

A scuffle from the main entrance way of the room made both men snap their heads in the same direction. Wade scrambled out of the bed, drawing a katana, while Logan used the brief moment to down another swig. If he was gonna fight, he’d need all the alcohol in him he could get.

Katana and sais collided with a sharp clang, sparks flying, as Wade’s sword met two outstretched, three-pronged weapons. The red-suit wearing menace was thrown to the ground by the owner of the sais. A woman, wearing dark reds, with long brown hair and green eyes. She leveled a weapon at Wade’s face.

She stepped away as she stowed her sais in the holsters on her hips. Wade jumped to his feet, briefly dusting off his ass, as he watched the woman step away. Logan continued to chug whiskey like this was the last time he could. For all he knew, it was.

Another person stepped through the entryway. Darker skin, sunglasses, black combat armor, scowl framed by a white-patched beard. This man seemed dangerous. Like a caged animal, just waiting for an opportunity to strike. Logan straightened out to pay better attention to the growing amount of people in the room.

The last person to come through the door was another man. Lighter skin than the previous, with brown hair caged in a black neck piece that covered the sides of his head. The guy wore a brown coat and shining purple combat armor. Cards passed between his dexterous fingers.

Logan watched as the three newcomers settled into the space. The man in black fiddled with some blades hanging on the wall, the woman flipped a sai in her hand, and the man with the brown coat messed with his deck of cards. Logan couldn’t help but chuckle at the trio. Did they think they were something special? The way they walked in, one-by-one and each with their own gimmick, made a sardonic smile quirk at the edges of Logan’s lips.

“Okay,” Wade began, stowing his katana with a flourish, “Look at you… All. You must be the others. Perfect! So, just to refresh…” he said as he looked to the woman, “You are Wonder-” “Elektra,” the woman replied with a grimace.

“Elektra, yes. Who could forget. And you!” Wade continued while shifting his gaze to the man in black, “I was not expecting to see you here! I thought you’d be penetrated by six inches of cold-hard-steel by now.”

The man quirked an eyebrow at the merc from under his sunglasses, “The fuck are you talking about?”

A beat passed.

“Ya know, a ‘Blade,’ like your name? Forget it,” Wade answered. Logan chuckled under his breath, taking another swig.

“I don’t like you,” the man in black, Blade, said.

“Never did!” Wade returned. He pivoted to the man with the brown coat, “And who’s this… Succulent reminder of my own inadequacies? Look at you! You look like the superhero version of Hawkeye!”

The man with the coat smiled, flipping the cards, then said in a heavy accent, “My name is Remy LeBeau. Le Diable Blanc. But you can call me ‘The Gambit.’”

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Sling Blade. Hit me again,” Wade responded, gesturing for Remy to continue. Remy smirked at him.

“They call me ‘The Gambit.’”

“Are you sure you didn’t just really, really want them to but it never quite worked out?” Wade asked. Remy ignored the question, shifting his attention to Logan taking another swig of whiskey. Logan cocked an eyebrow at him.

“C’est boude y ya. You know, we never had a Wolverine up in he’e. But I can tell you now, it’s just a common courtesy to ask before you drink up all o’ my liquor,” Remy said with an intense look about his brown eyes.

Logan scoffed, raising the bottle to his lips again, and sneered, “Then it’s a good thing I don’t give a fuck.”

A moment hung between them, filled with tension so thick it’d take Logan’s claws to cut it. Remy laughed quietly while shaking his head.

“Couyon zouave,” he murmured. In a flash, bright violet illuminated his eyes and the card clutched in his hand. He flicked the card at Logan. The Wolverine barely had time to react before the card collided with the whiskey bottle, making it explode in a spray of liquor and glass, leaving just the neck clutched in Logan’s hand.

“Fuck!” Logan cursed, blinking away droplets of whiskey that had splashed in his eyes. He glanced down at the broken bottle. His glare trailed from the broken glass, then to a rack of unopened whiskey bottles hanging on the alcove’s wall. He smirked as he tossed away the broken bottle, keeping his eyes connected with Remy’s, the glass shattering somewhere to his left.

“So embarrassing!” Wade hissed at Logan. The Wolverine ignored him, opting to grab a fresh bottle from the rack.

“Boo boo boo,” Logan sang mockingly. He twisted off the cap and took another long swig.

Logan tuned out the tense conversation between the new trio and Wade. Why should he care? Wade had lied about the TVA fixing Logan’s shit, so none of this mattered. He had already resigned himself to sitting in this cave, bottle of whiskey in his hands, living out the rest of his lonely days in the Void. It was what he deserved.

The liquor lightly burned his throat as he gulped down more whiskey. A dull fog was settling over the edges of his mind. With any luck, he’d be blacked out in an hour or two. The flashes of you that constantly plagued his mind would be subdued, his nightmares would be blissfully absent, and he’d finally be able to rest.

“Who-Who brought us here?” Wade asked loudly to the trio. Logan perked up, also curious about the answer. Last thing he remembered before waking up in the cave was passing out in the van.

“That would be me,” a voice said from a doorway across the cave from Logan. He shifted his gaze to the shadow approaching the room. Feminine, wearing a jean vest and fingerless gloves, with long dark hair and a green backpack slung over her shoulders. She looked between Logan and Wade, “Don’t make me regret it.”

“Shit… Logan, that’s her. That’s X23. She’s the one I told you about,” Wade said to Logan. The Wolverine traced the new girl’s features. Heavy brow bone, hazel eyes, pointed nose, permanent scowl across her lips. Huh.

One last set of footsteps came from the same doorway as X23. Quick, sharp clips of heavy boots along the concrete floors. The person that stepped up next to X23 stole the air from Logan’s lungs.

You.

There you were. Dressed in combat leathers and with a scar across your lip. Hair pulled back away from your face, knife with a blood-filled pommel tucked against your waist, intense eyes immediately meeting his. A small frown pulled at the edges of your lips.

Logan whispered your name under his lips. It was like the floor had been yanked out from under him. He was reeling. And not from the liquor, as he hadn’t had nearly enough to warrant the swirls of emotion clouding his brain.

How?

How were you here? You were dead. Logan saw you die. He was there with you, holding you, comforting you, until your breath rattled for the last time. His head was spinning.

“Oh. My. God! It’s her! Your girlfriend! Holy shit, I thought she would’ve died after the events of Logan 2017!” Wade squealed. The idiot skipped around the pool of water in the center of the room to grab one of your hands in both of his, “Can I just say what an honor it is to finally meet you. I tried earlier in the movie, but you and Lo-Lo were… Preoccupied, to say the least.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Let go of me,” you growled, snatching your hand from Wade’s. He held up his hands in surrender while he backed away slowly.

“Got it. Understood. Not a touchy person,” he said. He sheepishly returned to where he stood before you’d entered the room, “So… How’d you all get stuck in the void?”

Blade sighed, “There was a knock at the door, then the TVA shipped me here.”

“Me too,” Elektra added.

“Maybe I was born here, it’s hard to know fo’ sure,” Remy said, cards passing from one hand to the other.

“The TVA decided our universe was dying. And I never even got a chance to fight for it,” Blade continued gruffly.

Logan’s hyper-focused gaze shifted from you to X23, who was taking calculated steps around the pool toward him. Her hazel eyes trailed up and down his slouched form. He took another hefty drink. What the fuck is happening?

“People like us don’t go quietly. TVA knows that, so they took us out,” you explained, making Logan’s gaze snap back to you. You sounded exactly the same. Your inflection, your accent, the tone of your voice. Even the way you folded your arms over your chest as you spoke was the same.

Wade kissed his first finger then pointed at the group, “The answer is yes. I’m in.”

“In what?” Blade asked tersely. 

“A team! Me, you, you and me! All of us together! Let’s get the fuck out of this place,” Wade said. Logan scoffed.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s a fucking liar,” he exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the merc.

“It was an educated wish!” Wade yelled back.

“Ha!” Logan laughed loudly without humor, diving back into the whiskey. 

“Look,” Wade began, taking a calming breath, “We’ve been inside Cassandra’s lair. The only way out of the Void is through her. She can get us home! She told us.”

Everyone in the room’s attention was fixed on Wade. Blade rose to his feet, Remy’s cards stilled in his hands, Elektra set her jaw as she analyzed Wade’s form, you and X23 took a few steps closer to the merc.

“You’ve been inside? And you made it out alive?” Blade asked incredulously.

“Bullshit! Nobody’s ever done that,” Elektra replied. Her hands fell on the handles of her sais.

“We did,” Wade said proudly.

“Everytime one o’ us has gone up against her… They die,” Remy said, walking further into the room, “The Punisher, the Quicksilver, the Daredevil.”

“Daredevil?” Wade asked, cutting Remy off, and placed a hand over his heart, “Which one? The one with the nice ass, or the one that kills people?”

“They don’t all kill people?” Elektra questioned. Wade looked back and forth between her and a spot on the wall.

“I mean… C’mon guys. Daredevil is the Number One Catholic in all of Marvel. His whole season three arc was a constant back and forth of if he’d actually go through with his first kill. Which, by the way, is rookie numbers if you ask me-”

“It was the Daredevil I know,” Elektra answered, ending Wade’s rambling about things no one in the room quite understood.

“Well, I’m sorry for your loss, then,” Wade said as he clasped his hands together in front of him.

“It’s fine,” Elektra replied with a shrug.

“Ok…” Wade murmured, looking down at his feet. A few moments of silence hung in the cave like mist on a cool morning.

“Even that sweet angel, Johnny Storm. He up an’ gone missing, what, two days ago?” Remy lamented quietly. Blade and Elektra met his mournful look with their own.

“Oh, that’s so sad. Whoever this ‘Johnny’ fella is, I’m sure he’s thriving,” Wade said in a soothing manner. Logan couldn’t help but chuckle in response. Oh yeah, thriving alright. Wade cleared his throat, “Look, there’s strength in numbers! Alright? Us, you guys, we can put Cassandra over our knee and force her to let us out of the Void!” he continued. Blade scoffed at the merc, sitting back down on a crate. Wade was floundering at the disinterest shown by the group, “I know what it means to feel self doubt.”

“I don’t feel that at all,” Elektra said.

“I’m good,” Blade added.

“Gnawing at your gut like a coked-up tapeworm?” Wade pressed, gesturing to his stomach in a wide circle.

“It’s like you’re holding up a mirror to my soul,” Remy said solemnly. Logan bit back another laugh.

Wade approached the trio, “You guys may not be able to save your universes… But you can avenge them! It’s what Johnny woulda wanted!”

That was the wrong thing to say.

“Wait. You knew Johnny?” Elektra asked. Tension spread throughout the room. Every eye fell to the idiot in red. Logan couldn’t help but laugh at the mess the merc had made for himself.

“Oh, yeah. Dickhead here talked him into a team-up and Johnny came down with a little case of the ‘deads,’” Logan explained, sneering at Wade. The merc snapped his head back at Logan.

“No, no. We don’t know that! It was just a flesh wound. He may have survived!” Wade said in an attempt at calming the situation. Logan laughed again, lifting the bottle to his lips.

“If he survived that, he is praying for death,” Logan returned. He took another big gulp of the quickly depleting whiskey.

“Thank you, Doctor Wolverine!” Wade groused at him.

“Spill it!” Blade demanded.

“What’d you do to Johnny, huh? Talk, or I’mma start dealin’,” Remy said, raising a card while his eyes glowed. Wade waved his hands in the air, desperation leaking into his voice.

“Okay, okay. Hey, hey, hey! Look, he ran his fatass mouth about Cassandra! Then she zip-zapped his skin, leaving his organs to splash crudely onto the ground while the soil greedily drank his blood! It was horrible! He was like a brother to me!” he said quickly, providing a very filtered version of what had actually happened, “Look, he died before he could make a difference. But… But, maybe you couldn’t save your worlds… But Jesus Christ, you can save mine!”

“I don’t give a shit about your world. But, if these two made it out of there alive, maybe, together, we can get back in and take her down,” Elektra said, turning to the rest of the group. Remy shook his head.

“Where I come from… We call that ‘suicide’, cher,” he retorted. Elektra sighed as she shifted from foot to foot.

“Maybe if we can block her psychic powers, we could get a leg up. I know it! Now, I know Magneto’s dead… But I’d venture a guess that his helmet is lying around here somewhere,” Wade said, a smile practically leaking through his mask.

“Cassandra melted that helmet,” you replied grimly.

“Fuck!” Wade cursed.

“After she killed him,” Blade added.

“FUCK!” Wade yelled, cradling his head in his hands.

“She don’t play,” Blade said while shaking his head.

“She knows that helmet was the only way to protect anyone from her powers. The only other helmet that strong is Juggernaut’s, but he works for Cassandra,” Elektra explained with an air of indifference.

“Juggernaut’s helmet! That’s it!” Wade said, enthusiasm leaking back into his voice.

“Yeah, we don’t be knowin’ that lid ain’t comin’ off without that dome gonna come off wit’ it,” Remy drawled in response. Wade shifted his attention to him.

“I’m sorry, beautiful, I want this to be gentle,” Wade started, pressing his hands together in a placating manner, “Who is your dialect coach? The Minions? I feel like we’re missing critical exposition here!”

Wade’s question hung in the air, silence following the quip. Logan smirked at the group. It was nice to see other people experience the torment he’s been through for the past two days. Entertaining, even. 

Elektra paced back and forth between Remy and Blade, lower lip caught in her teeth, “I’m sick of this shit. I’m sick of hiding. Let’s face it, our worlds forgot about us.”

“Or… Never learned about us,” Remy mumbled to himself.

“The heroes we were,” Elektra continued, disregarding what the Gambit said.

“The lives we saved,” Blade said as he rose from the crate.

“Or wanted… To save,” Remy said, again to himself.

Elektra met Blade’s eyes, hidden behind his glasses, as she said, “Maybe these two are our chance. To be remembered. The way we deserve.”

Logan could feel hope bubbling in the air. It made his stomach turn. There was no way in hell this would work. These guys were just a bunch of washed-up has-beens without a home. Just like him.

His eyes drifted back to you. You were staring intently at Wade, gloved hand resting on X23’s shoulder. You seemed to believe in what the idiot was saying. That there was hope. Logan grit his teeth.

“Yes…” Wade said with an audible grin as he looked between every person in the room.

“An ending,” Elektra whispered.

Blade smiled, “Legacy.”

“Yes! YES!” Wade exclaimed, clapping his hands, “Let this man cook! This is what I’m talkin’ about! Big slow-motion fights, sad music, everybody workin’ together. Who knows if you live or die? That sorta thing! Who’s ready?”

“I was born ready,” Blade replied, flipping a long knife in his hands to the sky.

“Yes! Gambit?” Wade asked as he pointed at Remy.

“I ain’t know my daddy, but I’m sure I shot outta his dick ready,” he answered. There was a pause.

“Jesus Christ, that is graphic,” Wade said.

“Yeah, he was layin’ them buttery nuts all up in my mama an’ I shot out there an’ I said ‘What’s up, doc?’” Remy continued. Logan grimaced at how graphic this guy was. Was there no class anymore?

Wade laughed, “I’m sure Johnny must’ve loved you! X23, what’s it gonna be?”

X23 glanced at Logan, then to you, then back to Wade, “The name’s Laura. And hell yeah, I’m ready.”

“What about you, mama?” Wade asked you.

“If she’s in, I’m in,” you responded, patting Laura on the shoulder. She looked up at you with a small smile.

“Let’s fucking go,” she said, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Let’s fucking go!” Wade repeated. The energy in the room was electric. Wide smiles, hopeful glances, muscles tensing under warm skin. Static built in the room like the air before a lightning strike.

“Show ‘em that the chicken ain’t cold,” Blade said with a grin.

“Yeah!” Wade replied.

“We’re doing this,” Elektra said decidedly. Logan shook his head.

“You’re all fucking dead,” he groused. Wade turned on his heel to look at the Wolverine.

“My God, read the room.” 

~~~~

“I’m not going out there, Laura!” you hissed at your daughter.

You and her were in the room you shared. The stone walls, ceiling, and floor kept your conversation private. A queen bed sat in the corner. Rumpled, black sheets lay atop the mattress. You and Laura shared the bed. Neither of you minded, it was something the two of you had grown accustomed to when on that fateful road trip nine years ago.

“I’ve loosened him up for you! He talked about the X-Men and what happened with them. Mama, please. You need to talk to him,” Laura argued.

She sat cross-legged on the bed while you paced back and forth in front of her. A smug smile tugged at the edges of her lips, gloss reflecting in the lamplight. You chewed on your bottom lip. 

“I doubt he even knows me. I probably don’t even exist in his universe. What if he thinks I’m creepy for talking to him? Or what if I’m a mass-murderer? Shit, what if I hurt someone he cared about-” Laura yelled your name, stopping both your pacing and your rambling in their tracks. You paused in front of her. She sighed, pushing herself off the bed and running her palms down your arms.

“Even if you’re no one in his universe, he still needs someone to talk to. Someone like him. Well, more like him. You know what I mean,” she said with a small smile. You shook your head at her.

“I don’t know how much more like him you could be, kid,” you breathed, resting a hand on her jaw. Every day you were blown away at how similar Laura was to Logan. From their smile, to their terrible jokes, to their temper, to the way their eyebrows crinkled in the corners. She was his daughter, through and through.

“I’m not a bazillion years old,” Laura snarked back. You rolled your eyes.

“You’re lucky I won’t make you do push-ups for saying that,” you replied with a fond grin.

“Go talk to him, mama. If not for your sake, or his, then for mine. Please?” Laura begged, giving you the wide eyes that she knew you could never turn down.

You sighed, “Fine. Five minutes. If I don’t come back, assume he’s killed me or something.”

“Or something?” Laura questioned, wiggling her eyebrows. You shoved her away with a groan. She laughed as she landed on the bed.

“Get some sleep, kid. Love ya,” you said as you made for the doorway. You scooped up your boots that sat next to Laura’s. 

“Love you too, mama. Gane la verga!” she called after you as you stepped out of the room. 

You sighed at your daughter’s antics. Thank God she was past the moody teenager phase. That was a nightmare. The constant anxiety, the mood swings, the self-doubt. Only exacerbated by her mutation. Luckily, you were surrounded by dozens of other mutants at the time. What wasn’t so lucky was that the majority of them were also going through that phase at the same time.

A shudder rolled through your spine at the memory. You’d give anything to see the rest of the kids again, they were your reason for being, but you thanked whatever god would listen that most of them were through puberty. Your mind wandered to your little sheep farm as you sat on a crate to pull on your boots.

Images of the flowing grasses swept through your mind. Light breezes sending waves through the fields, buzzing cicadas droning in the surrounding woods, the occasional bleat from a sheep, smells of whatever the kids were cooking wafting through the white-wood house. 

Logan would’ve loved living there.

It was peaceful. Serene. Secret. Not once in the eight years you’d lived there had the humans discovered your school. It had helped that there wasn't an influx of new students everyday, drawing the public eye to your property. Most of the kids were the ones that had been created by Transigen. Others were some you’d picked up along the way to the farmhouse. A family made of broken pieces.

But there was always that one, Logan-shaped, missing piece. You would feel it when you’d wake up to the spot next to you cold and empty, or when you’d talk with a kid about your past and would instinctively look to Logan for his input. Only, he was never there. 

His death had left a void in your heart. You’d tried your best to fill it by surrounding yourself with love and compassion. Listening to the laughter of your kids, smelling the flowers Bobby grew in the garden, eating the food Amanda and Leah would prepare with care. The love for your kids could only go so far.

Seeing Logan, or this variant of him, had hit you like a punch to the gut. He had his eyes, his hair, his smile lines. He even had his beard trimmed in the same way. But he was young. Remarkably younger than when your Logan had passed. Only a few grays dotted along the variant’s dark beard, fewer wrinkles cracked in the corners of his eyes, and he still had that undeniable energy about him that initially drove you wild. Like a predator trapped in a room full of prey.

“Lost in thought, cher?” Remy asked as he stepped up next to you, snapping you out of your swirling mind. You smiled up at him.

“Just a little, bon ami,” you replied. You’d made it a point to learn French when you’d been thrown into the Void. If only to be able to understand the Gambit better when he went on one of his rambles.

Remy pulled a crate up in front of you and sat on the top. A single card, the ace of diamonds, flipped in his left hand, “Whatchu thinkin’ about?”

“Laura’s convinced me to talk with the big, bad, Wolverine outside,” you joked in an attempt to mask your anxiety. You tugged on the laces of your boots.

“Ah, le couyon zouave. That man’s gonna drink me outta house an’ home,” Remy mused. You chuckled at him calling Logan “silly goose.” Remy adjusted in his seat, throwing the back of his coat over the crate, “You gonna talk to him? ‘Bout what?”

You sighed and shrugged your shoulders, “No fucking clue. Maybe to make sure I’m not a serial killer in his universe.”

“Ha! I’d like to see that, cher. You’d be a killer serial-killer,” he replied with a wide grin. It was hard not to smile back. Remy just had a way of lighting up a room. If not by his charm, then by his explosive cards.

“I wonder what my serial-killer name would be,” you joked as you finished tying your shoes. Remy chuckled in response.

“Hmm, if I gotta be Le Diable Blanc, maybe you could be La Démon Rouge,” he wondered aloud. You shook your head at the word choice.

“Matt already had the whole ‘red devil’ thing going on. Wouldn’t wanna step on any crime-fighting toes,” you responded, pushing yourself to your feet. Remy stood from his seat as well. His eyes passed between both of yours.

“It ain’t just wonderin’ ‘bout your other self, is it, cher?” he asked. This guy could read you like an open book. You ground your back teeth.

“No… I guess not,” you muttered as you folded your arms across your chest. What did you expect from the looming conversation? Comfort in your grief? A drinking buddy? Or would Logan completely blow you off? 

“How ‘bout you take two bottles and loosen him up, yeah?” Remy offered with a grin. You eyed him suspiciously. Prying liquor from the Gambit was like pulling teeth from an angry leopard. He laughed at your incredulous expression, “To learn about your serial-killerness.”

You smiled at the man you considered to be a friend after half a year of knowing each other. Remy was the easiest to grow close with. Charm flowed from him like sunlight through an open window. Out of the people you’d chosen to ally yourself with, Remy was the one you could stomach spending time with.

“I appreciate it, bon ami. I really do,” you thanked with a wide smile. He clapped a hand on your upper back.

“Of course, you pauvre bȇte. Lord knows you ain’t had much action in a while, huh?” he quipped, making you cough as you choked on some spit. He patted your back as he said, “I swear, if that fils de putain don’t gobble you up, I may jus’ do it myself.”

“Thank you,” you wheezed between coughs. What else were you supposed to say to something like that? Remy’s lack of a filter always had you doubled over. Whether in shock or from laughing, it was a toss-up.

“Now, go talk up that rougarou, huh? Give yourself an unforgettable night before your untimely demise,” Remy said with finality, giving your shoulder a little push past him. You stumbled a bit before you managed to catch yourself.

Ignoring the growing heat across your face and neck, you thanked Remy again and grabbed two bottles of whiskey from the rack. The amber liquid sloshed inside the unopened bottles. You approached the stone doorway that opened into the great outdoors. Smoke particles drifted in on the gentle breeze. After another smell, you figured that there must be a campfire not far from the entrance.

Steeling your nerves, you stepped out of the cave. Grass and moss clung to the outside of the cave like tight clothing. Your boots squished in the rain-soaked mud. Deep footprints from Laura and Logan dug into the dirt. The trail led away from the cave, to the left, and to a crackling light about a quarter mile away.

You could just barely make out a figure sitting on a log by the campfire. Elbows leaning on his knees, yellow suit hugging his body, brown hair glowing like a sunset in the firelight. Logan.

The trilling of bugs filled your ears as you approached. Loud drones, often followed by quieter ones, echoed from the tree branches and around your anxiety-ridden form. You usually found solace in the sounds of nature. Enjoying the smells that followed rain, appreciating the sounds of different birds and bugs, gazing lovingly at flowers and different types of trees.

All the constant droning did was increase your cortisol levels. 

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you reached the log ring. Four large logs sat in a square around a burning campfire. Smoke curled from the fire and into the night air. Long shadows chased each other the further they danced away from the light.

“I said I ain’t lookin’ for company,” Logan growled under his breath. You froze in place. This is a mistake. This is a mistake. This is a mistake.

“Need a refill?” you squeaked despite the raging thoughts inside your head.

Logan spun on the log he was perched on. His hazel eyes, practically emerald in the firelight, were wide as they connected with yours. Confusion etched its way across his furrowed brow.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked. The empty bottle clutched in his hands reflected the light like fireflies trapped in the glass. You swallowed a knot the size of a baseball.

“Thought you could use a drinking buddy. Seeings as we’re gonna die tomorrow,” you explained, raising the bottles so he could see them better. He stared at you for a few moments. It was nearly impossible to read his expression. And, unfortunately, you were out of practice.

Logan huffed, a mask of indifference settling over his face once more, as he turned back to the fire, “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” you replied quickly. His eyes traced over your face warily. You squared your shoulders as you met his glare, “I could use a drink with someone my age.”

Logan laughed at that, the sound fast and harsh. His head hung low as he shook it back and forth. A hopeful grin pulled at the edges of your lips.

“Grab some log,” he sighed after a few moments. You did your best to hide the wave of enthusiasm that threatened to break your cool demeanor. The bark of the log dug into your palm, leaving indents in the flesh, as you sat to Logan’s left. 

Warmth washed over your front from the crackling fire. Comforting, like a heated blanket during a blizzard. You held out a bottle to him, the liquid sending bent light across his scowling face.

Nothing happened for a few moments. Logan continued to glare at the offered bottle as it filled the space between the two of you. Apprehension started gnawing at your gut.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood. Logan smirked, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

His gloved hand wrapped around the base of the bottle, taking the whiskey from your outstretched hand. Thick fingers worked the lid open and chucked it into the crackling fire. A log split down near the embers.

“So, what’s your story?” Logan asked after a beat, raising the bottle to his lips. The question caught you by surprise. You worked on your response as you opened your bottle.

“Laura and I ended up here about a year ago. Or, you know, the equivalent,” you began. Bitter liquor filled your mouth as you took a sip. The whiskey flowed down your throat in a sharp-edged stream. You grimaced at the taste, “Jesus, that’s strong.”

“Not a fan of hard liquor?” Logan asked, almost teasingly. You cleared your throat to ease the sting.

“It’s not that. Just haven’t had a drink in… Shit, nine years?” you explained as the whiskey settled in your stomach. Logan hummed in response.

“How come?” he pressed. You cocked an eyebrow at him. He didn’t care to elaborate on why he was asking so many questions, opting to take another long swig instead. You blew a puff of air out through pursed lips.

“In my world, you… Uh, well, you died. Didn’t want to drink without you,” you said, your gaze fixed on the bottle’s opening, “We were on the run from this company called Transigen. They had samples of a shit ton of the X-Men’s DNA, and used the samples to make their own mutants. Grew the kids in a lab. Not even bothering to give them names,” you bit out gruffly. Recounting Laura’s past always left a bad taste in your mouth. You downed another swig, wincing slightly, then said, “A nurse got Laura out of there, along with a bunch of other kids. They all got separated, though. Laura and the nurse ended up contacting Logan for help. Logan, or uh, I guess you, was a limo-driver at the time. The nurse wanted us to take Laura to this location in North Dakota.”

“And I said yes?” Logan asked suspiciously, “Doesn’t sound like me.”

You laughed lightly, “I was the one to convince you. I mean, she was your daughter. Couldn’t just turn her down, right?”

“I dunno,” he muttered under his breath. You didn’t get a chance to press further before he was taking another sip. You chewed on your bottom lip.

“Charles was the main advocate for helping Laura. Him and I managed to wear Logan down enough for that grump to help. So, the four of us piled in the limo in El Paso and made for North Dakota. The trip was… It wasn’t smooth. We lost Charles along the way,” you said, grief beginning to bubble up your throat. You blinked away the tears pricking behind your eyelids, “Transigen had made an exact clone of Logan that they used to hunt us down. That clone killed Charles.”

The loss of your mentor, your longest friend, still washed over you like churning waves in a storm. Charles Xavier was the first person to show you an ounce of kindness. He was the one to house you, to help you figure out your mutation, to introduce you to the X-Men. To the Wolverine.

“I’m sorry,” Logan mumbled. His eyes were still fixed on his bottle, “Losing Chuck was hard. Real hard. I know how it feels.”

“Thanks,” you breathed in response. 

Logan gave you a curt nod as he drank from his bottle. You spun the neck of your bottle between your fingers.

“After Logan’s clone attacked and Charles died, Logan was pretty messed up. See, his adamantium skeleton had been slowly poisoning his blood ever since it was put in him. Leeching metal into his veins and robbing him of his healing mutation. Even I couldn’t patch him up, and that’s my specialty,” you explained with a brief, humorless laugh, “We still managed to make it to North Dakota. Laura took over driving for a bit while I worked on stitching Logan up. Seeing her, only eleven, driving better than he did made me glad he was unconscious.”

That last remark made Logan throw you an irritated glare. You chuckled in response, his reaction so fucking similar to how your Logan would react. Eyebrows furrowed, nose scrunched, scowl pulling on his lips. 

“I’m kidding,” you said in an attempt to ease the annoyed Wolverine.

“Uh-huh,” he huffed. You could just barely see an upward tick on the edge of his scowl.

“God, where was I… We made it to North Dakota. Logan was on the mend after I’d managed to stitch up several stab wounds. Laura brought us to this ranger station looking out over the border between Canada and North Dakota. A shit ton of the kids from Transigen were there. Holed up, hiding from those assholes who wanted them back. The kids told us they were planning to cross the border to escape Transigen. I wanted to help them, to make sure the crossing went well, but Logan was still too injured.”

Bile started to burn at the back of your throat. Watching the color drain from his face, your partner for thirty years, was one of the worst experiences of your long life. Feeling utterly helpless as the energy faded from the once immortal Wolverine.

“The next morning, the kids tried to cross into Canada. But Transigen had found them. They were chasing those poor kids through the woods, hunting them down and either killing or restraining them. Logan and I just barely made it there to prevent any other kids from getting hurt. He would slice up the Transigen cronies while I’d escort the kids away. Quite the asshole-fighting team,” you recounted with a frown. Now comes the hard part, “The clone was released into the woods after us. It managed to grab a hold of Logan before I could do anything. It… It killed him. Stabbed a fucking tree through his chest. And I didn’t even get a chance to stop it.”

Hot trails of tears started leaking down your heated cheeks. Shaky breaths rattled inside your lungs. You wiped away the moisture gathering under your eyes. God, it was hard to talk about what’d happened.

A large hand rested on your shoulder. The palm warm, strong, gloved. You looked up through wet eyelashes. 

Logan looked at you with an understanding you couldn’t quite place. Like the same kind of grief that had you in a chokehold had its claws in him, too. Like he knew exactly what you were going through. You sniffed back a sob. 

“I can guess the rest, doll,” he said softly. His fingers squeezed gently at your shoulder. Your breath caught behind your lips.

Doll.

That’s what your Logan had called you.

“Did-Did I exist in your universe, Logan?” you asked, desperate to shift the conversation away from your grief. Logan inhaled sharply, eyes darting away from yours.

“Uh��� Yeah. You did. You, uh, died too,” he responded quietly. The hand not on your shoulder, still gripping the whiskey, lifted the bottle to his lips, “I held you as you died.”

A heavy silence settled over the two of you. Lead-lined heartache tugged at your chest and made it hard to breathe. Logan downed another swig.

You lifted a slightly trembling hand up to the one on your shoulder. Your fingers traced gently over the blue material, the fabric rough under your calluses, then you laced your digits with his. Logan froze where he sat.

“Is this okay?” you asked softly, afraid to break the calm quiet around the two of you. A charged moment passed.

“Yeah,” Logan replied huskily. His fingers adjusted to hold your hand tighter against his palm. Your heart started to kick up behind your ribs.

The two of you sat like that for a few minutes. Quiet, the night air only disturbed by the droning bugs or the crackling fire, Logan’s fingers laced with yours. It felt… Good. Right. Like some of the weight that had piled on these past nine years was growing a little lighter.

“Laura was out here earlier,” Logan said, interrupting the silence. You looked at him from the corner of your eye. He sighed as he took another drink, “Tried to convince me to help out tomorrow. That I’m actually worth a damn.”

The harsh words caught you off guard. Where is this coming from?

“You are worth a damn, Logan. In every universe,” you replied. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He shook his head, frown deepening across his lips.

“No. No, you don’t understand. After you died, I…” he muttered then sighed, hanging his head low. You gave him a few quiet moments to collect his thoughts. It seemed the weight of the universe was piled on his broad shoulders, “After I lost you, I started drinking. Every second I was awake, I was drinking. I didn’t want to think, or remember, or feel. I just wanted to be numb.”

He exhaled a shaky breath. His hazel eyes screwed shut as memories seemed to flash in his mind. You rubbed soothing circles into the back of his gloved hand.

“Everyone in that fucking mansion died because of me. Because I was too fucking drunk to help when the humans came. I…” Logan trailed off. He avoided your gaze as he took another long gulp of liquor. He swallowed noisily, then said, “I ain’t worth shit, doll.”

You took a few moments to absorb his words. The self-pity, the agony, the remorse. You bit your lip as you tried to construct what you’d say. Talking with an upset Logan was difficult, to say the least. One word out of place and he’d shut down.

“Have you ever helped someone, Logan?” you asked, shifting your gaze from the dancing flames to his hunched form. He cocked an eyebrow at you. You bit your lip, then continued, “I mean, really helped someone. Like, you risked your own safety to help out someone you didn’t even know. Whether it be helping an old lady crossing the street, getting a little kid’s cat out of a tree, or even saving someone’s life. Have you helped anyone out like that?”

Logan was quiet for a few moments. He swirled the amber liquor, the bottle now half-full. He cleared his throat, “I have.”

“And how did you feel afterwards?” you pressed.

“I dunno. Good, I guess,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. You shifted on the log so you were facing him.

“Then you are worth something. Even if it was something as small as holding open the door for someone, you improved that person’s life. You made a positive impact. You could have shaped the course of that person’s whole existence with that one, simple action. And, if I know you like I think I do, you’ve done way more than just holding open the door for someone. You’re worth far more than you know, Lo.”

It seemed your spiel had left Logan speechless. He stared at you, wide-eyed, as your words settled into the night air around you. The silence between you stretched on for so long, you were beginning to think you might have said the wrong thing.

“What did you just call me?” he breathed. The hand holding yours tightened its grip. Anxiety started to leak into your mind.

“Uh… Lo?” you answered apprehensively. Did he not like the nickname?

Without warning, the hand holding yours shifted to cradling your jaw. He tugged you towards him, liquor bottle forgotten on the forest floor, as Logan crashed his lips into yours.

SMUT NEXT CHAPTER!!!! I REPEAT, SMUT NEXT CHAPTER!!!!

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[trivia-yandere]

request for yandere!ex-husband jk trying to prevent oc from divorcing him 💀😭 (only because they got a child together and he loves her more than anything but she just can’t take him anymore)

hello! yes we can :) this one might take a little turn but this is a yandere account so

nefarious

You knew who Jungkook was prior to having his children and marrying him, so you serving him with divorce papers wasn't going to do anything but anger him.

@momnomnom @darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree

word count: 4.442

warning: yandere themes/tendancies, non-consenual touching/rape, smut, cursing, dark theme, spitting, degradation, possessiveness, fingering, dirty talking, emotional/mental manipulation, biting, restraining, crying, slapping,

“Get it out of my sight.” Jungkook tosses the paper away aggressively with a roll of his eyes. One of his men - Sung-ho, stands straighter to appear obedient. “That bitch thinks she’s going to divorce me after I made her?” Jungkook leans back into his chair with a huff. He shakes his head. “After I got her out of the slums she was living in?”

Jungkook’s eyes glance at the picture onto his desk - one of you and him on your wedding day. He grasps it and hurls it at Sung-ho who barely manages to dodge the attack. “You find that bitch and bring her back to me!” he screeches, eyes wide with rage. Sung-ho truly had no reason to be a part of Jungkook’s rage and he would make sure to apologize about it another time.

It’s been three months.

Three months since Jungkook has allowed you your little vacation away from him. And now you dare serve him with divorce papers that claimed that you wanted full custody of his daughters - you were insane. You had no job and had not worked in the last five years you and he had been married. You swiped his card without a care in the world and wasted close to millions since then - as a man and your husband, he never bat an eye.

But to think that you were willing to divorce him because - by your words - Jungkook was not the man he claimed to be was preposterous. You knew the type of man he was - the same man who you kept returning to every night to wet his cock and warm his bed. The same man who gave you lavish gifts every week and the same man who managed to not only marry you, but grace you with two of his offspring.

So what if he orchestrated a few murders every now and then? Or stole money and expensive pieces during heists? Sold a few (thousands) pounds of unthinkable drugs? You lived in a mansion, his daughters and you wanted for nothing - isn't that what a man was supposed to do? Ensure his family was alright? Why the fuck did it matter what he did as long as you and his girls were safe?

Jungkook knew you had no problem with what he did for work. Your problem was that you clearly missed him - he had to be gone the majority of the time and that left you in such a large mansion to care for the children alone. But a divorce? Wasn’t that a little excessive? No, this was nothing but a little stunt to get his attention and clearly, now you had it.

Sure Jungkook and you didn’t meet on simpler terms - normal people met at coffee shops. Maybe out grocery shopping. Hell, social media and dating sites were normal now. 

No, Jungkook and you met during one of many (unbeknownst to you) bank heists he had gone on. You recall the day had been fairly slow, only a few people coming in every hour. You had been assisting an older man when the doors slammed open and a group of men entered. 

The men wore all black and wore masks that covered their entire head. They pointed guns at everyone, telling them to get down. You - of course it had to be you - were escorted to the back. To think that this wasn’t even your shift initially and you picked it up from a fellow co-worker. 

But again, you weren’t as normal either. Jungkook noticed how you appeared to not take anything serious. He pointed his gun at you and though he would never use it - hurting women and children was not his forte - you didn’t know this.

Jungkook knew you were different when you flirted with him as you opened the safe. If this was your way to assure your safety, then it was a weird way to go.

“Do you do this often?” you speak as Jungkook fills the bags with stacks upon stacks of cash. “I always wondered what robbing a bank would be like.”

You. You were a weird one. But Jungkook liked it.

“I saw something like this in a porno once.”

Jungkook halts in his tracks, unable to control his thoughts. He turns towards you, eye sockets - dark and nearly invisible to you, stare at your grinning figure.

“The robbers break in and find a defenseless woman…” you lean back onto the wall, tilting your head. “...take advantage of her. But deep down, we both know she wanted it.”

Jungkook was ashamed of himself for allowing himself to be consumed by you. You had all the control that day and you knew it. You enticed him so much that he was able to forget about the heist all together and that’s when he found himself inside of you - ravishing you against the very wall you leaned against.

What could Jungkook say? He was a man and you were a willing participant. You begged him for more, edged him on as he fucks you. You liked the way he was treating you - hands clenching your neck, the manhandling. You started this, all Jungkook did was follow your lead.

“I could say you raped me.”

There it was - the kicker.

You could say that indeed. You had managed to not only get Jungkook off of his game to fuck you - but to do so without a condom. Jungkook had been so excited by you that he came the hardest he has in months - right inside of you. His cum drips out of your pussy and down your thighs, you not even bothering to wipe it up.

“Say that you took advantage of me and when they do a rape kit…” you shrug.

Jungkook points his gun at your head, but both of you knew that he wasn’t going to pull any triggers. You sensed no threat when it came from this man - Jungkook is who he would soon introduce himself as.

“What do you want?” This is the first time you have heard Jungkook’s voice. He was young, you note, his cock and stamina confirming it. Possibly around the same age as you.

“Money.” you shrug your shoulders. “But I can’t take it now.” you laugh. “I guess that means I’ll have to see you again, huh?”

Jungkook swallows. He’s thankful the mask remained on his face and you didn’t see his red cheeks and shocked expression.

“How about I give you my number and you can call me later?” you offer.

“I could kill you later.” Jungkook retorts. 

“You can kill me now.” you fire back. “Your friends can kill the entire bank and get away with it. Burn it down and get rid of any evidence you have left inside of me.”

Jungkook swallows.

“But you know that. You’re a smart boy.” There you were flirting with him again. “If you wanted to hurt me, you would have. Truth is, I could care less about this job and my life is quite boring. All I want is a little company. Who better than a random thief with obviously nothing else better to do?”

Jungkook found that from right there he was fucked and you were truly a vixen - an agent of chaos sent from Hell (Heaven would never allow something like you) to torment him. But he was rather intrigued for the first time in who knows how long.

“What’s your name?” Jungkook asked.  

“Y/N.”

 Jungkook lowers his gun. “Jungkook.”

You chugged the champagne down in nearly one gulp and slammed the glass onto your vanity. Your eyes dart to your reflection in the mirror and you scoff. You should have known Jungkook wasn’t going to let you go without a fight.

You recall the way all hell had broke loose when Jungkook had found you. Your daughters were at school luckily and didn’t have to see their father’s demeanor change. He told you it wasn’t hard finding your hotel room and slamming the door open. You had been dozing off when he entered and Jungkook was anything but content. 

“I allowed this little break to go on long enough, Y/N.” Jungkook was aggressively grabbing your belongings, hauling them onto the bed. “Pack your shit.”

“No.” you hissed.

“No?” Jungkook scoffs. “You think you’re going to divorce me and take my daughters?” Jungkook wants to laugh at how stupid you sounded. “With no job?”

“I’ve been saving money.” you retort, eyes glaring at him.

“Oh,” Jungkook snickers with a clap of his hands. “So you’ve been planning on leaving me for a while. What’s changed?”

Jungkook came closer to you. He looked manic, eyes wide and glaring into your soul. 

“You even threatened to expose me if I didn’t give you a divorce.” Jungkook is livid. “Take down all of my legitimate businesses just to divorce me? You think you’ll get away with that, baby?”

Jungkook was never one to be rough with you, but he’s pissed. He pushes you onto the bed and hovers about you. “You don’t think you’ll go down with me? You tell them what I do on the side, I’ll tell them you were alongside me the entire way. We’ll both go to jail and our daughters…” Jungkook shrugs. “They’ll go to my brother.”

Your eyes widen at Jungkook’s words. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would. Take me down, Y/N. You’re going with me.” Jungkook pushed himself away from you. “Pack your shit and let's go home.” he hissed, not waiting for a response from you.

And now here you sat in said home. You were fresh from a long shower, having ignored Jungkook the following days and only tended to your daughter's needs.

You were feeling bitchy today, however, and decided that if Jungkook didn’t want to give you a divorce - that you were going to force him to. That, or annoy him until you felt as though you were done.

You continued to lotion your skin until it glowed, then you grabbed the perfume bottle - one of the many expensive gifts from Jungkook - and sprayed it until you knew it would linger. You take one last look in the mirror before smiling to yourself.

“We haven’t done a bank heist in years.” Jimin says with furrowed brows, bored and a little offended with the conversation. “We aren’t children anymore. Are we going broke?”

Jungkook snorts, but leans back into his chair. He pours himself the whiskey - courtesy of Yoongi - and lifts his eyes to the surrounding men that he considers brothers.

“I agree.” Taehyung nods. “Bank heists are for the lower ranks. Who’s idea was this?”

“Mine.” Jungkook slams the shot glass down onto the table and shakes his head at the powerful taste. “Don’t you guys remember the adrenaline rush?”

Namjoon snorts with a roll of his eyes. “Leave it to the baby of the group to say this.” he murmurs, a smirk forming onto his lips.

The doors of the meeting room open and heads turn towards the noise. Jungkook’s eyes land on you - and your lack of clothes all together. You adorn lingerie, black and lacy that fits you perfectly. His eyes darken when he meets your gaze.

Jimin is interested now. He leans forward and waves at you. “Y/N, hello.” he says. You were always Jimin’s favorite out of the girls Jungkook had brought around - one of the main reasons being that you actually became a wife. You didn’t remain someone he left in the shadows of his bedroom and actually gave him two adorable nieces.

And of course, you and Jungkook were one of the same. You were stubborn and took no shit and Jungkook got a taste of his own medicine. One of the countless reasons why you two bumped heads often - but it made for great make-up sex.

“Jimin.” you wave back. “I missed you. You don’t come around as much.”

Jungkook watches you with glaring eyes as you make your way closer.

“Y/N.” Jungkook’s tone is low - a warning. Not now, he wants to say. He had no time for your petty bullshit.

“You know me, I always keep busy.” Jimin continues the conversation as if you aren’t wearing the bare minimum - but Jimin didn’t see you in that way. Plus, he loved annoying Jungkook just like you did.

“That you do.” You reach the edge of the table, grasping a glass and a half empty bottle of brandy. “I see you all been drinking without me.”

“Y/N.” Jungkook continues, leaning forward. His firsts were clenching as he awaits for you to answer him. 

Taehyung fights back the cackle. It was always something when it came to Jungkook and you. The fights were never to be taken seriously - it always ended the same way. You and he entangled together declaring how much you pissed the other off.

“You’ve been ignoring us lately.” Taehyung pipes in. “What did we do to deserve the cold shoulder?”

Jungkook could feel the atmosphere shift. You were mocking him - he was once told by Yoongi that he allowed you to walk all over him and he was beginning to agree. You had no respect for him - and even his brothers were going along with your foolishness.

“I’m sorry.” you sigh, pouring yourself the brandy and glancing at Jungkook. “Maybe when the divorce is finalized-”

There it was - the cherry on top. Jungkook’s chair screeches as he pushes himself away from the table and lifts himself up. He’s fast as he rounds it and lunges at you. However, you’re just as fast at hauling your drink into his face.

Jimin watches in amusement as Jungkook pulls you over his shoulder as if you were a toddler throwing a tantrum. He rushes out of the room - slamming the door open with a loud bang while you’re punching at his back.

“Well then.” Namjoon claps his hands, shaking his head. He allows a few laughs to be released from his lips.

“I think this little get together is over.” Hoseok continues.

Jungkook is livid when he slams the bedroom door open just to slam it shut behind him. He shoves you off of him and onto the king sized bed. You fall on your back with a grunt, bouncing off until you catch yourself. 

“You think you’re cute, huh?” Jungkook grumbles, towering over you. He would admit that he wanted to be furious with you - but your attire didn’t help him. You knew what you were doing to piss him off but you wearing his favorite perfume was doing nothing but distracting him.

“Had to do something to get your attention.” you retort, swallowing when your eyes meet the bulge in his pants.

“Ah, so that’s what it is?” Jungkook tsks. He isn't hesitant to push you back, hand wrapping around your neck. “You missed me, baby. I haven’t been as attentive to you as a husband.”

It’s his knee you feel so close to your heat, the friction causing you to groan. Jungkook was always the one to take control, never fully allowing you to unless it's what he desired.

“Why must you always take things too far?” Jungkook loosens his grip onto your neck, palm gliding down to your breast. “Am I not good to you?”

“You see me as nothing but a whore!” you hiss, turning away from him. Jungkook does notice the way your thighs quiver and your hips jut towards his knee for friction. 

“A whore, no.” Jungkook shakes his head with a laugh. “My whore? Yes.” His eyes are burning into yours, offering the same venom you were giving him. “My whore to fuck, to please, to care for. You’re mine, Y/N.”

Jungkook moves his knee from your heat to replace it. His palm slaps it roughly, wet spot not going unnoticed. You shiver at the impact, ashamed that your body was giving away just what he was doing to you. You felt weak when it came to Jungkook - married for five years and together for nearly 7, he knew your body like the back of his hand. 

Jungkook slaps your clothed clit more - over and over again until your juices are soaked through the lingerie, and even then he doesn’t want to stop his torment.

Jungkook’s fingers dig through the lacy fabric of your lingerie to toy with your clit. So wet - so inviting. He could never get enough of your pussy.

“You ignore me days just to show up in lingerie you knew was going to drive me crazy.” Jungkook rubs along your throbbing clit, bulge twitching at just how sopping wet you are. “Then you say it again. Threaten me with divorce.” Jungkook’s scoffing now. He doesn’t want to waste anymore time.

Jungkook enters two fingers inside of you, not bothering to give you any warning - nor be gentle in the slightest. 

“You make it seem like life with me is bad.” Jungkook begins pumping his fingers inside of you. Your body gives him the reaction he always expects - clenching walls, juices flowing down his wrist and flinching form. 

You want to push Jungkook away, to say that you aren’t his anything. You wanted out of this marriage from him - you were nothing but someone he had control over and you allowed it for far too long. It didn’t feel like a marriage between two lovers, instead you felt trapped in a home and made to be nothing but a body to warm his bed every night. The only gift you could truly appreciate from Jungkook was your daughters.

However, it was your body. Your body could never agree on what your mind was telling it to - you find yourself moaning lowly at his thrusting fingers. Jungkook is pissed, and when he is it tends to show in the way he pleases you. Dominant and in control.

Jungkook’s tongue licks upon your cheek. Hot, wet and slimy - all before he spits onto you. In his eyes, the ultimate sign that you were truly his.

“I fucked over enough people in my lifetime that they have given up trying to take it out on me.” Jungkook’s pumping only increases. “You and our daughters are the true targets that they know could truly get to me. I’ve done nothing but kept you and them safe.”

Your eyes roll when you feel the familiar bubbling churning in your stomach. The wet slapping of Jungkook’s fingers inside of you are echoing filthy throughout the bedroom.

“Leave.” Jungkook removes his fingers from inside of you just when you were seconds away from releasing. “If you want the divorce so bad, then I’ll give it to you. Our daughters are staying with me.”

You’re panting, high coming back down to Earth. Your eyes flutter open to see Jungkook pushing himself away from you.

“I’m not leaving without them.”

“Too bad.” Jungkook shrugs. “You want the divorce. You leave and you’ll see them whenever you come here. Take whatever money you saved and find yourself somewhere to go.”

“You’re bluffing.” you find the courage to say, but your voice is so low and meek.

Jungkook hums, lips twitching as he watches you. Poor you, eyes wide and chest heaving. You never truly thought he would give you what you asked for - no matter how brattish and petty you’ve been towards him. 

Jungkook was going to show you just how much you needed him and not the other way around. You were his woman regardless and no divorce was ever going to change that - not even in death would he allow you to part ways with him. He just had to show you how truly vile the world was without him.

Jungkook strokes your hair as you continue to cry in his arms, visibly shaking and trembling. Your fingers are clenching onto his shirt tight as if never wanting to let him go.

How the tables have truly turned - but all Jungkook could think was “I told you so”.

You were only gone a week and it was all it took for you to find yourself in trouble. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that revenge toward him was sought out by harming those he loved.

You sat in your hotel room when the knock sounded onto the door. You had ordered food not long ago, so when the knock sounded you wasted no time in going to open it.

Your first mistake.

Your door crashes open when you unlock it and you’re shoved onto the ground. You don’t manage to scream when you feel your screams being muffled. There's two of them, you note, both men. Their clothing was dark and loose fitted and their face had been hidden completely, you can see from a facial mask to cover their mouth and scarf on top of their heads. You couldn’t make out the eyes, yet you weren’t intended to. You were flipped onto your front quickly when one man had yanked you onto your feet, face burying into the hotel bed.

Your legs and arms thrashed around in an attempt to free yourself from the men, but you quickly realized that it was pointless - and that you were doing nothing but exhausting yourself. 

Your eyes swell with tears, anxiety peaking when you realize that this might be what Jungkook was talking about - your mind telling you that there was no way you were leaving here alive. 

Your arms are restrained by one man while the other pulls at your clothing. Your legs shiver when your pajama pants are ripped and you’re exposed to the cool air of the room

You feel nauseous and your head is pounding at the thought of you being defiled by these men - that you were in this situation at all.

You managed to lift your head to breathe, a choked sob releasing from your throat. Your tears blinded your vision, but you could see in the corner of your eye flesh - the man behind you ripping your clothing off. Without thinking, you sink your teeth into his skin in hopes of buying you time for an escape.

A hiss sounds through your ears and you feel a sting across your cheek. Your arms are being restrained tighter until you feel them cramp and sob.

You pleaded and begged for them to leave you alone - that you’d give them whatever money you had saved. Your pleas fell on deaf ears and you realized what they truly wanted was you.

You clenched your eyes shut when you felt yourself being stuffed by the man behind you. He wastes no time in pumping inside of you, not caring just how uncomfortable it felt for the both of you. You feel something wet, warm and slimy drip onto your folds, you conclude he had spit onto you to get any form of lubricant.

The thrusts are brutal and his hands upon you are tight and unmoving. Your sobs do not subside and you feel as though your body is betraying you. It didn’t feel good to you - you felt disgusting and utterly embarrassed; especially with the grunting sounds from the man defiling you. But your body is allowing this to happen, naturally lubricating your walls for more - your stomach churning and bubbling to reach a high you didn’t desire.

Skin slapping echoes off the wall and you had no tears left in you to cry. You wanted this torture to end, to be freed from the nightmare -  but the man was cruel. You feel his hand tuck themselves beneath you and fingers twirl at your clit. You cry upon impact, shaking your head. 

“She likes it.” you hear faintly - it had to be the man restraining you. His voice felt so far away even if he was right across from you. 

The man behind you grunts, hips snapping into you roughly, fingers toying your clit harshly. Your pussy clenches around him unwillingly and you remain shaking your head - you didn’t want this. Your body doesn’t understand the difference between this and what it's use to.

“She’s about to cum.” the muffled voice from the man restraining you says. He holds onto your arms tighter as his partner flips you around. You come face to face with the masked person and your heart drops. You close your eyes, not wanting the man to see your reaction.

“It’s okay to like it. Whore’s like you love this, don’t you?”

The man doesn’t stop his thrusts - no, he appears to be thrusting into you even harder. Your moans of protest fill the room, but to these men, they were moans nonetheless.

Hands clamp around your neck and another around your lips. It silences you completely and you no longer have any strength in trying to protest. You felt your walls clench around the masked man until you were finally letting go around him unwillingly, but by then you were losing consciousness.

“I told you the outside world isn’t the place for you, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs into your hair. “You’re lucky I came just in time. Who knows what they were planning on doing to you.”

Your tears are now soaking Jungkook’s shirt, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to let you go - and now he would never have to. 

“Come on. Let’s get you in the shower, yeah?” Jungkook says, pushing you away to look at your tear-stained face. “I love you, Y/N. Always.”

You sniffled, feeling yourself fall apart all over again. Your head crashes into his chest and your hold on him becomes tighter. “I-I’m sorry.” you apologize. You should have heed his warning - that you were safe with him. He kept you in this mansion for this long because the outside world was indeed not safe - you and your daughters could never be safe if it wasn’t with Jungkook. You’re grateful that you had not taken them with you. Who knows what the masked men would’ve done to them.

Once Jungkook manages to get you into the shower, he closes the bathroom door behind him with a sigh. He gets your pajamas ready for you when you’re out and some sleeping pills - you’d need it if you were going to get a good night's sleep. 

Jungkook proceeds to lift his sleeve up and sigh at the mark on his wrist. It was beginning to sting. You managed to draw blood when you bit him - but he was grateful that the wound wasn’t too severe. 

After all, Yoongi’s plan had worked. Jungkook regained his control over you - even if he had to take desperate measures and insert fear. But, he had you nonetheless - his wife.

part two (prequel) a look back into your and jungkook's fatal attraction - before the marriage, kids and the detachment coming soon...

[aemondwhoresworld]

THE LORD’S REDEMPTION

pairing: benjicot blackwood x reader

summary: in the intricate world of Westeros, alliances are forged and broken through marriages arranged for political gain. lady y/n of house y/l/n finds herself wed to benjicot blackwood, lord of raventree hall, a union intended to strengthen ties between their noble houses. although the marriage was one of duty, y/n begins to believe that genuine affection and love are blossoming between them, especially after the birth of their first daughter. however, her world is shattered when she discovers benjicot in the arms of his childhood friend, a betrayal that cuts deep. but in the end, love and repentance prove stronger, as benjicot, on his knees, begs for her forgiveness, vowing to honor and cherish her for the rest of their days. | word count: 2,6k

warning: english is not my first language. mention of cheating, gavebirth, infidelity, angst to fluff, etc

my first benji fic, currently there is no taglist for benji, thanks my bf to co-write this with me (almost half of the fic)

The halls of Raventree Hall were alive with the sound of celebration. The feast had been lavish, the guests numerous, and the union of House Y/L/N and House Blackwood had been met with cheers and well-wishes from all who attended. But as the night wore on, and the newlywed couple retired to their chambers, the reality of their marriage settled in.

Lady Y/N stood by the window, looking out into the darkened forest that surrounded her new home. The trees of the Blackwood lands were ancient, their branches gnarled and twisted like the old stories of the Children of the Forest. She had heard the tales as a child, but now, in this strange new place, those stories felt more real than ever.

Benjicot Blackwood, her husband, was a man of few words. He had been courteous and respectful, as expected of a lord, but there had been little warmth between them. Their marriage was one of duty, an alliance between two noble houses, and Y/N knew that well. Still, there was a small part of her that longed for something more, a connection that went beyond the cold formality of politics.

As she stood lost in thought, Benjicot approached her. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said, his voice soft, as if he were afraid to break the quiet. “The stars are brighter here than in other parts of the realm.”

Y/N turned to him, surprised by the comment. “They are,” she agreed, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “It reminds me of home.”

Benjicot nodded, his gaze following hers out the window. “I know this is not the life you envisioned,” he began, hesitating slightly. “But I hope, in time, you’ll find happiness here.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. It was a fleeting moment, but it was enough to plant a seed of hope in her heart. “I hope so too, my lord,” she replied, her voice gentle.

That night, as they lay side by side in the large bed, Y/N felt the weight of his presence beside her. The sheets were cold at first, but as they lay in silence, she felt his hand slowly, hesitantly, reach for hers. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. She squeezed his hand in return, a silent acknowledgment that perhaps, just perhaps, they could make this marriage into something more than just an arrangement.

Months passed, and the seasons changed. Y/N and Benjicot fell into a comfortable rhythm, learning to navigate their roles as husband and wife. There were moments of shared laughter, quiet conversations by the fire, and even a few stolen kisses that felt more natural with time. It wasn’t the passionate love story Y/N had once dreamed of, but it was something real, something she could build upon.

When Y/N discovered she was with child, the news was met with joy throughout Raventree Hall. The Blackwood line would continue, and the bond between House Y/L/N and House Blackwood was now cemented by blood. The pregnancy brought a new closeness between Y/N and Benjicot. He was attentive, always ensuring she was comfortable, and took great care in preparing for the arrival of their child.

The day their daughter was born, Y/N’s heart swelled with love as she held the tiny bundle in her arms. The babe had her mother’s eyes and her father’s dark hair, a perfect blend of the two houses. Benjicot stood beside the bed, watching in awe as Y/N cradled their daughter.

“Would you like to hold her?” Y/N asked, looking up at him with a soft smile.

Benjicot hesitated for a moment, as if afraid he might harm the delicate creature in his wife’s arms. But when Y/N gently placed the baby in his hands, his fear melted away. As he gazed down at his daughter, his eyes softened, and Y/N saw something in him she hadn’t seen before—love, pure and unguarded.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve given me the greatest gift, Y/N.”

In that moment, Y/N felt closer to him than ever before. As she watched him hold their daughter, she allowed herself to believe that this marriage, once forged out of duty, had grown into something much deeper. Perhaps they could be happy after all.

But happiness in Westeros was often fleeting.

It was a stormy night when Y/N’s world came crashing down. She had awoken in the middle of the night to find the bed empty beside her. The sheets were cold, and the silence of the room was deafening. Worry gnawed at her as she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and ventured out into the darkened corridors of Raventree Hall.

She searched for Benjicot, her heart pounding with every step. When she finally found him, it was as if the ground had been ripped out from under her.

There, in a secluded alcove near the godswood, stood Benjicot, his arms wrapped around a woman Y/N recognized all too well—Lysa Rivers, his childhood friend. The two of them were locked in a passionate embrace, their lips pressed together in a kiss that spoke of old, unresolved feelings.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She felt as if a knife had been plunged into her chest, the pain sharp and unrelenting. This was the man she had come to love, the father of her child, and he was betraying her in the most unforgivable way.

Before she knew it, she was running, fleeing the scene of her heartbreak. The rain poured down in torrents, drenching her as she ran back to her chambers, but she didn’t care. The physical cold was nothing compared to the icy numbness that had settled in her heart.

When Benjicot finally returned to their chambers, he found Y/N standing by the window, her back to him. The tension in the room was palpable, the silence heavy with unspoken words.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice laced with guilt. “Please, let me explain.”

She turned to face him, her eyes blazing with anger and hurt. “Explain? What is there to explain, Benjicot? I saw you! I saw you with her!” Her voice cracked, the pain evident in every word.

Benjicot looked stricken, as if her words had wounded him. “It was a mistake, a moment of weakness—”

“A mistake?” Y/N’s voice rose in disbelief. “You betrayed me, Benjicot! You betrayed our marriage, our family!” She took a step toward him, her hands trembling. “I thought…I thought you loved me. I thought we had built something real.”

“I do love you,” Benjicot said desperately, reaching for her, but she stepped back, out of his reach. “I’ve loved you since the day you placed our daughter in my arms. But Lysa…she was my past, Y/N. She was someone I cared for long before we were married. When I saw her tonight, old feelings resurfaced, and I… I lost control. But it meant nothing, I swear it.”

Y/N shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “You don’t betray someone you love, Benjicot. You don’t risk everything for a fleeting moment with someone else.”

The hurt in her voice cut him deeply, and he sank to his knees before her, his head bowed in shame. “Please, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I know I’ve wronged you in the worst way possible. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m begging you—don’t leave me. Don’t take our daughter away from me. I will do anything, anything to make this right.”

Y/N looked down at him, her heart torn. The man before her was not the strong, confident lord she had married, but a broken man, consumed by regret. Part of her wanted to push him away, to let him suffer for the pain he had caused her. But another part of her, the part that still loved him despite everything, couldn’t bear to see him like this.

“Benjicot,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can ever truly forgive you for this. The pain you’ve caused me… it’s more than I can bear. But I won’t make any decisions tonight. I need time—to think, to heal. For now, I’ll stay, for our daughter’s sake. But know this—you will have to work harder than you ever have before to earn back my trust.”

Benjicot nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “I will, Y/N. I swear to you, I will spend every day proving to you that you are the only woman I love, the only one I will ever love.”

The days that followed were filled with an uneasy quiet. Benjicot was true to his word—he devoted himself to Y/N and their daughter, never straying far from her side. He sought to make amends not with grand gestures, but with small, consistent acts of kindness and care. He listened to her, respected her space, and showed her in every way he could that she was his priority.

Y/N watched him carefully, her heart still guarded. The pain of his betrayal lingered, a sharp reminder of the trust that had been shattered. Yet, as the days turned into weeks, she couldn't deny the change in him. Benjicot seemed different, as if the weight of his guilt had transformed him. He was more attentive, more present than he had ever been before, and she could see the earnestness in his every action.

One evening, as autumn began to deepen, Y/N sat in their chambers, her daughter playing on a woven rug near the hearth. The little girl babbled happily, her tiny hands grasping at the colorful wooden toys Benjicot had carved himself. Y/N found herself smiling despite the turmoil in her heart. Her daughter’s laughter was a balm to her soul, a reminder that there was still good in her life, something pure and untainted.

Benjicot entered the room quietly, as he often did these days, as if he were afraid to disturb the fragile peace between them. He knelt beside their daughter, picking up one of the toys and joining her in play. Y/N watched them, her heart softening as she saw the love in his eyes, the way he doted on their child with such tenderness.

After a while, Benjicot looked up at Y/N, his expression tentative. "Would you walk with me in the godswood?" he asked, his voice soft, almost pleading.

Y/N hesitated. The godswood had always been a place of solace for her, a place where she could think and find peace. But it was also the place where she had first seen him with Lysa, the place where her heart had been broken. Still, she nodded. "Alright," she agreed, rising from her seat.

They walked in silence at first, the cool evening air rustling the leaves overhead. The old weirwood tree stood at the heart of the godswood, its red leaves vibrant against the darkening sky. Y/N had always found comfort here, under the watchful eyes of the old gods, but tonight she felt a sense of trepidation.

Benjicot stopped beneath the weirwood, turning to face her. His expression was earnest, his eyes full of remorse. "Y/N," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "I've been doing a lot of thinking these past weeks. I've thought about what I did, how I betrayed you, and I've realized just how much I stand to lose. I was a fool, blinded by the past, and in doing so, I risked everything we have. I can never take back what I did, and I will live with that regret for the rest of my life."

He took a deep breath, stepping closer to her. "But I want you to know that I am committed to earning back your trust. I love you, Y/N. I love our daughter, and I love the life we've built together. I don't expect you to forgive me easily, and I don't expect things to go back to the way they were overnight. But I will keep trying, every day, to prove to you that you are the only woman in my heart, the only woman I will ever want by my side."

Y/N listened to his words, her emotions swirling. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, the desperation in his voice. He was baring his soul to her, laying himself at her mercy, and for the first time since that fateful night, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way forward.

"Benjicot," she said, her voice soft but steady, "what you did hurt me more than I can put into words. It felt like everything we had built together, everything I thought we had, was just… shattered. But I can see how much you regret it, and I can see how hard you're trying to make amends. I won't lie to you—it's going to take time for me to heal, and it's going to take time for me to trust you again. But I don't want to throw away what we have, either. I want to believe that we can rebuild, that we can find a way back to each other."

Benjicot’s eyes filled with tears, and he took her hands in his, holding them as if they were the most precious thing in the world. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "Thank you for giving me a second chance. I promise you, Y/N, I will spend the rest of my life proving that you made the right choice."

Y/N nodded, her heart heavy but hopeful. "Then let's take it one day at a time," she said softly. "Let's start again, and see where this road takes us."

In the days and weeks that followed, Y/N and Benjicot began the slow process of rebuilding their relationship. It wasn’t easy—there were moments of doubt, of lingering pain that resurfaced when Y/N least expected it. But each time, Benjicot was there, patient and understanding, never pushing her but always ready to support her when she needed it.

They spent more time together, taking long walks in the godswood, sharing meals, and talking late into the night. Benjicot opened up to her in ways he never had before, sharing stories from his childhood, his fears, and his hopes for the future. Y/N found herself doing the same, and gradually, the walls she had built around her heart began to crumble.

One evening, as they sat together by the hearth, their daughter asleep in her cradle, Benjicot took Y/N’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I love you," he whispered, his eyes full of the sincerity that had come to define him since that night. "I know I’ve said it before, but I want you to know that it’s true. You and our daughter mean everything to me."

Y/N looked into his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of peace. "I love you too," she replied, her voice soft but full of conviction. "It’s going to take time, but I believe in us. I believe that we can build something even stronger than before."

Benjicot smiled, a smile that reached his eyes and warmed her heart. "Together, we can do anything," he said, and in that moment, Y/N knew it to be true.

Their journey wasn’t over—there were still challenges to face, and scars that would take time to heal. But as they held each other close, the flickering firelight casting a warm glow over them, Y/N felt a sense of hope for the future. They had been through darkness, but now they were stepping into the light, hand in hand, ready to face whatever came their way.

And in the end, that was what mattered most—their love, their commitment to each other, and the promise of a new beginning.

[fyodere]

actor!dazai au + hate fucking

I hope nobody catch us (but I kinda hope they catch us)

“she wanna go viral . . ?

keep fucking for hours

that pussy got power ”

— P POWER

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), actor!au, dazai is mean, nasty absolutely filthy smut, reader is a new name on acting scene, semi public sex, child star dazai, rivals with benefits, hate fucking, petnames, degradation, dazai is a sadic, unprotected sex, dirt talk, light dom/sub dynamic ♡

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Fighting for a spot on the entertainment industry was rough, but co-staring another film with Dazai was rougher.

Now you’re at the after party, all the paparazzi and interviewers are gone. You can finally relax now. At least, that was what you thought.

“Meet me in the bathroom.” Dazai whispered to you and quickly vanished, you were used to his superstar behavior, but it still annoys you.

You always fight on set and hate each other. What’s up with him now?

﹙ 🧥 ﹚── author's note : OKAY IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS i absolutely loved writing the whole rivals with benefits thing. it’s just too hot. i hope y’all enjoy it <3 my requests are always open so don’t be shy!

. . . ꒰ ꐦ › ﾛ ‹ ꒱

Fighting for a spot on the entertainment industry was rough, but co-staring another film with Osamu Dazai was rougher. For years, you had clawed your way through auditions, rejections, and fleeting moments of success, all in pursuit of that elusive breakthrough role. And just when you thought you had finally made it, fate threw you yet another curveball: co-starring in another film with the enigmatic and notoriously difficult Dazai Osamu.

The after-party buzzed with energy as celebrities mingled, champagne flowed, and laughter filled the air. For you, it was both a relief and a moment of triumph. Landing a role alongside the enigmatic Osamu was a career milestone, but it came with its own set of challenges.

As you sipped your drink, a familiar voice cut through the chatter. It was Dazai, his dark eyes glinting mischievously as he beckoned you with a subtle gesture. You rolled your eyes, accustomed to his dramatic antics. Despite their on-screen chemistry, behind the scenes, you both clashed like oil and water.

Reluctantly, you slipped away from the crowd, your curiosity piqued by Dazai's clandestine summons.

The tension between you and Dazai was palpable from day one of filming. Both of you were fiercely talented and fiercely competitive, each vying for the spotlight in every scene. The set became a battleground of egos, with sparks flying whenever your characters shared the screen.

Now, amidst the glitz and glamour of the after-party, with the paparazzi and interviewers finally gone, you hoped for a moment of respite. But as you leaned against the bar, nursing a cocktail and trying to unwind.

As the night wore on, you found yourself swept up in Dazai's whirlwind scheme, the lines between enemy and ally blurring in the face of ambition. And as you stood on the precipice of this daring venture, you realized that sometimes, the greatest battles were fought not on the silver screen, but behind the scenes, in the shadows where dreams and egos collided.

Dazai was a star since childhood. After starring in a movie at the age of 5, his career was an unstoppable ascent with no contenders. Every role, every appearance, no matter how small, made the project take off. Having Osamu in a project was synonymous with success.

At least, it was until he turned 15.

At 15, Dazai found himself on a thin line brought about by the consequences of fame. Surrounded by a world of drinks and nighttime dangers, Dazai felt embraced by the dark side of fame.

At 18, Osamu stepped away from his acting career. He needed a break from the spotlight and to clean himself from all the vices he had started in his adolescence. The media portrayed him as a comet in eruption disguised as a shooting star—if the media didn't want Dazai Osamu, then it wouldn't have him. Dazai distanced himself from screens and public scrutiny.

Now, at 22, Osamu was preparing for his comeback to the prestigious world of cinema, and when the cast was announced, people were stunned. Dazai's return after 4 years away from the stage. The return was so sudden that the media had no choice but to remind the public of Dazai's difficult phase.

His return was in a minor role in a drama film, the same film where you were one of the stars. You're a model represented by Fyodor Dostoevsky who landed this role by chance. It was a simple equation: good agents, beauty, charisma, and connections. There was no way your career could go wrong.

Despite the glitz and glamour of the entertainment industry, the atmosphere on set was anything but glamorous. From the moment filming began, it was clear that the animosity between you and Dazai was more than just a clash of egos—it was a full-blown feud.

Every interaction was laced with tension, each scene a battle for dominance. Behind the camera, snide remarks and passive-aggressive jabs were exchanged with alarming frequency, as you and Dazai vied for control of the spotlight.

But as the days turned into weeks, a begrudging respect began to simmer beneath the surface. Despite your mutual disdain, there was no denying the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you on screen. And as much as you hated to admit it, Dazai's talent was matched only by your own.

Yet, even as you grudgingly acknowledged each other's skill, the bitterness between you remained palpable. Every success felt like a personal affront, every compliment a thinly veiled insult. And as the pressure mounted, so too did the intensity of your rivalry.

But amidst the chaos and conflict, a glimmer of opportunity emerged. As filming progressed, it became increasingly clear that the success of the project hinged on your ability to set aside your differences and work together towards a common goal.

And so, begrudgingly, you and Dazai began to cooperate—not out of friendship or camaraderie, but out of sheer necessity. As the stakes grew higher and the deadline loomed closer, you found yourselves reluctantly setting aside your differences in pursuit of a greater good.

But, returning to the premiere of the film you were starring in: the after party was perfect. Only the most renowned people, the most coveted celebrities, all of it without any paparazzi or interviewer to disrupt the moment. That was the perfect opportunity to establish connections with the big names in the media. But, honestly, at that moment, all you wanted was to enjoy good drinks and soak in the energy of the place, having a well-deserved rest.

Navigating the treacherous waters of the entertainment industry had always been a challenge, but nothing could have prepared you for the tumultuous journey that came with co-starring in another film alongside the enigmatic Dazai. The tension between you two was palpable, a constant undercurrent of rivalry and animosity that colored every interaction.

Now, amidst the glittering lights and pulsating energy of the after party, with the paparazzi and interviewers finally gone, you hoped for a moment of respite. A chance to unwind and revel in the success of the film, to bask in the glow of your hard-earned achievements. But fate had other plans.

As you sipped your drink, a familiar voice sliced through the air, pulling you from your reverie. It was Dazai, his words laden with urgency and mystery. "Meet me in the bathroom," he murmured, before disappearing into the crowd. His abrupt departure left you both bewildered and irritated, a perfect encapsulation of your tumultuous relationship.

You and Dazai had always clashed on set, your fiery personalities and fierce ambition fueling a rivalry that bordered on hatred. Every scene was a battleground, every interaction a test of wills. And yet, beneath the surface animosity, there was a begrudging respect—a recognition of each other's talent and determination.

But as you made your way to the designated meeting spot, the backstage area cloaked in shadows and secrecy, you couldn't help but wonder what game Dazai was playing now. What could he possibly want from you?

As you rounded the corner, you found Dazai waiting for you, his expression inscrutable. The air crackled with tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you like a veil. And in that moment, you realized that whatever lay ahead, it would be anything but predictable.

You walked to the bathroom concerned. What the hell Dazai would want with you? You hate to admit it, but you’re kind of curious.

“Oh, well.” You said looking at the tall man with brown hair and mysterious eyes. “The demon prodigy want to talk to me. What an honor. Should I thank God for this?” You said with the voice dripping sarcasm as you roll your eyes.

The bathroom was empty and quiet. The place reeked of cigarette smell. Dazai was waiting there with a slight smile on his face. As soon as he saw you, he quickly put out his cigarette and threw the bud to the dumpster.

“Why so nervous?” His tone was taunting. He was leaning against the wall while talking to you.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You retort. “I’m trying to enjoy this after party but, damn, you really want to ruin everything.”

“Ruining it… or making it more interesting?” Dazai crossed his arms and smirked. His tone was still annoying. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Like always.” Dazai muttered. You could see he was trying to make you angry.

“I wanted to talk with you in private. Since we’re having another film together. I want to propose something to you, since our reputation is on the line…” He said slowly.

“Our reputation?” You said laughter than you planned. “Oh, please. You’re the one who couldn’t resist to alcohol at 15. You’re the one who fucked up your image to the midia. Don’t put me into your twisted games.”

“Just listen before you go all ‘I hate you!’ On me, I get enough of that from the paparazzi.” Dazai said with a fake laugh.

Dazai stayed silent for a few seconds.

“You know how the rumor mill always says we are both in a relationship?” He sighed. “That’s not a problem to me. In fact, I believe it’s even better for us. I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend and feed the media with the idea that we are dating—“ You abruptly cut him off.

“Oh, don’t even come with this. I get enough bad ideas from my agent. I don’t need even more.”

Dazai's smirk widened at your reaction, his gaze unwavering. "I understand your hesitation, but think about it," he urged, his voice taking on a persuasive tone. "This could be mutually beneficial for both of us. Imagine the headlines, the buzz surrounding our 'relationship.' It would catapult us into the spotlight like never before."

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "And what about the fallout when the truth inevitably comes out?" you countered, your tone dripping with skepticism. "We'd be crucified by the media, branded as frauds and manipulators. Is that really the kind of attention you want?"

Dazai's expression softened slightly, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. "I know it's risky," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But think about what we could achieve together. With our combined talent and charisma, we could dominate the industry. This could be our ticket to the top."

You hesitated, torn between your reservations and the tantalizing prospect of fame and success. The allure of the spotlight was undeniable, but at what cost? Could you really trust Dazai to have your best interests at heart, or was this just another one of his manipulative schemes?

As you weighed your options, the air between you crackled with tension, the silence stretching taut with unspoken possibilities. And in that moment, you knew that whatever decision you made would irrevocably alter the course of your career—and perhaps your life.

For a moment, you considered leaving, quitting the project before it even began, but the thought of walking away from such a high-profile opportunity filled you with dread. Instead, you looked back at Dazai, your expression unreadable. "I guess I have no choice," you said ironically. "If you insist on being such a jerk, I'll play your game. But remember, you're the one who's going to end up regretting this. Just wait until I show my true colors, and the world sees what a fucking asshole you really are."

With those words, You turned your back on Dazai, ignoring his derisive snort as you walked out of the room. You could feel his eyes burning into your back, and for a moment, you wondered if you had made the right decision. But then you reminded herself that you didn't need to like him; you only needed to tolerate him. After all, there was no way you could afford to lose your job over their petty feud.

Osamu couldn't help but smirk as he watched you storm off, your back rigid with anger and defiance. He had never cared about your opinion, but he still found himself curious about your reaction to his antics. There was something about your fierce determination and independence that intrigued him, and he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you ever decided to fight back against him.

Without thinking, Dazai grabbed you by the arm. “Hey, I’m still talking to you, belladonna.” He smirked. “Don’t think you could run away from me so easily.”

“Huh? Get lost!” You said firmly. “Don’t you dare touch me.” You gnashed your teeth while stepping closer to him, stepping on his foot.

Dazai’s grin widened as he felt your foot press down on his foot. It was clear that you were furious, and he reveled in the knowledge that he had managed to rile you up so quickly.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart. You know you love it when I tease you like this," he said, trying to sound casual. "It's part of my charm." His smile turned mischievous. "Besides, I think I deserve some credit for getting you to stay after all."

“Oh, don’t be so cheeky.” You said while rolling your eyes. He was still holding your arm, like he didn’t want to let you go.

"I am being cheeky, hmm?" Osamu retorted, his voice low and dangerous. "And you know it. Don't play innocent, sweetheart. We both know you secretly enjoy the attention I give you."

"I do not!" You spat, glaring at him. "You are such a jerk."

"Is that so?" Dazai asked, his tone still light and carefree "I am?" Osamu arched an eyebrow. "You really believe that, don't you?" He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You know you want me to keep doing it, right?"

"Shut up! I hate you, demon prodigy. You know how much I dislike you?” You said stepping on his foot even more heavily. Putting your face close to his.

Osamu laughed, the sound harsh and unpleasant. "So, you say you hate me?" He took a step closer, pressing his body against yours. "Well, I hate you too, sweetheart. But we can't seem to get rid of each other, can we?"

He moved his hand up to cup your face, turning your head so their gazes locked. "But that doesn't mean I can't make your life miserable, does it?" Your faces were to close, a single word could make your lips touch.

The air between you seemed to crackle with tension as Dazai looked into your eyes. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, tracing its outline. "If you don't want me to keep bothering you, then you should tell me to stop. If you do, I'll back off and leave you alone."

“Just shut up.” You said and finally pressed your lips against his.

Your tongues tangled together, Dazai's fingers digging into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. He was rough, demanding, and yet there was something undeniably compelling about the kiss.

As if he couldn't help himself, he deepened the kiss, taking control of the situation completely.

Osamu gripped you tightly, using all his strength to hold you in place. When he pulled away, he let out a loud laugh, a harsh bark of humorless mirth. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Osamu broke away from the kiss, leaving you panting and gasping for air. His breath was hot against your skin, his eyes dark and hungry.

Osamu smirked, the smug expression making your blood boil. “I think you're enjoying it,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “You know what? I'm going to keep doing it until you beg me to stop.”

He grabbed your hands and pulled you above your head, pinning you against the wall. “Now, let's see how long you can last before you give in to my charms, hmm?”

Dazai leaned in again, pressing his body against yours once more. This time, he didn't use his tongue; instead, he bit down hard on your bottom lip.

“Fuck…” You said between heavy breaths.

“Mmm, that's my girl.” Dazai grinned, showing off his teeth. “Keep screaming out your protests, sweetheart. I love it when you fight me like this. Makes it all the more fun.”

With that, he licked at your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Then, he released it, only to bite down harder. The pain was intense, almost unbearable, but it also had a strange sort of pleasure attached to it.

Osamu's hand moved to your breast, cupping it through your dress. He squeezed it gently, then twisted it, causing her nipple to pierce through the fabric. The sensation was both excruciating and exquisite.

“A-Ah! Fuck!” You yelled, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

Osamu laughed softly, his smile growing wider. “You're so cute when you get mad,” he said, still holding onto your breast. “But remember, you asked for this, sweetheart. You wanted to play with the big boys, right?”

He released your breast, letting go of it. Instead, he began to run his fingers up and down your spine, making sure to tease you wherever possible. As he did so, he gave you breasts a rough tug, forcing your chest to arch upwards.

“Now, tell me, do you want me to continue or should I stop?” he asked, his tone casual and nonchalant. Osamu knew that he could push you to the breaking point, but he also knew that you would never say no to him.

You were breathless, your heart racing. Your cheeks were flushed, and you couldn't help but feel hot and bothered by his actions. It was clear that he enjoyed tormenting you, and you found yourself wondering if you should just let him have his way with you.

You hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to answer his question. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely audible over your panting. “... Fuck. Just keep going.”

Osamu nodded, his grin widening even further. “As you wish, my dear,” he said, giving you another hard pinch between your legs. This time, however, he made sure to rub against your thigh, pressing it against your sensitive flesh.

The sensation was incredibly intense, and it left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. But you didn't seem to mind; instead, you moaned softly, your body reacting to the stimulation.

Dazai's hands roamed across your back, tracing every curve and line. His fingers brushed against your skin, leaving trails of heat and desire in their wake. He grabbed hold of your ass, squeezing it tightly, before giving it a sharp smack.

“I'm going to fuck you, dear.” he whispered, his voice low and seductive. “I'm going to make you mine, and I'll never let you go.”

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against hers.

The sensation of his finger pressing against your entrance made you shudder, your skin feeling sensitive and exposed. It was then that you realized just how vulnerable you was in this situation, and it scared you. But for some reason, it was addictive.

Still, you didn't back away from him, even though you knew he had the power to hurt you. Instead, you just looked at him, you eyes wide and pleading.

“Please, Osamu. Please, keep going.”

Osamu chuckled, his amusement evident in the twinkle of his eyes. He leaned back slightly, keeping his finger pressed firmly against your entrance as he glanced up at you.

“You're adorable when you beg, sweetheart. So cute and pathetic. But you know what? You asked for this, so you get exactly what you deserve.”

Without warning, he pulled his finger out of you, leaving you aching and needy.

Osamu chuckled, his smile wicked and predatory. He continued to tease you, gently rubbing your clit and pushing his finger deeper into you tight hole.

“You're such a good girl, aren't you?” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “So obedient and submissive, like a dog. Always ready to do whatever your master tells you to do. But I bet you haven't ever asked what your master wants, right? I mean, it's only fair to ask before you start serving him, isn't it?”

The moment he pulled out, you whimpered, your body desperate for more. You wanted to cry out, to beg him to continue, but you knew it would only encourage him further. So instead, you just watched him, waiting for his next move.

As he sat up, you noticed something odd about his expression—it was almost as if he was enjoying himself. And yet, there was something cruel about the way he was treating you, something that made you want to run away from him.

But you couldn't leave. Not when he had you trapped in this bathroom.

“Dazai…” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “What do you want from me?”

Osamu laughed again, a harsh sound that echoed through the small space. His gaze never left hers as he spoke.

“I'm doing this because I hate you,” he said simply. “I think you're a terrible actress, and I can't stand the sight of you. Plus, it's fun to see you squirm and beg for mercy.

He reached over and grabbed your arm, pulling you close enough that your bodies were practically touching. He let go of you, however, and stood up, taking a few steps backward.

“Now, come here, belladonna. I want to fuck you until you beg for my cum.”

You sit down on the cold sink of bathroom and spread your legs, waiting for him.

Osamu smirked at your submission, a dark satisfaction curling deep within him. He walked towards you, his every step heavy with purpose and determination. When he finally reached you, he took hold of your hips and began to push your legs apart, making sure you were fully exposed and vulnerable.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in your ear. “You know how much I hate you, right? Well, I hate you even more when you look like this, all pretty and helpless. It makes me feel powerful.”

With that, he released your hips and took hold of your thighs, lifting them off the ground and exposing your cunt completely.

As soon as he lifted your legs, you could feel his hardness pressing against your sensitive flesh. You shivered, feeling the chill of the air on your most intimate parts. Your heart raced, fear coursing through your veins. But still, you didn't try to stop him or fight back. Instead, you waited, your eyes wide and filled with fear and anticipation.

Osamu smirked once more before pushing into your tight, wet entrance. The sensation was intense, almost painful, but he continued to press forward, slowly filling you with his thick member. He gently rocked his hips, causing his cock to rub against your walls in a way that felt both rough and pleasurable.

As he did so, he couldn't help but grind out words against your neck. “Fuck, you're so tight. You'll be begging for my cum soon enough.”

The pressure inside you grew unbearable, but you tried not to let it show. Instead, you bit your lip and tried to focus on something else, anything else. All you could think about was how much you hated him, how much you wanted to make him suffer. But the thought of doing so only made you feel guilty and ashamed.

Osamu moaned softly, his voice low and rumbling against your neck. His hands clenched tightly onto your thighs, keeping your legs raised and exposed as he continued to pound into your with fierce intensity. He was determined to get what he wanted, and he would do whatever it took to make you suffer.

The sound of his moans echoed throughout the bathroom, the only thing breaking the silence besides their heavy breathing. Despite the fact that he was clearly enjoying himself, there was no love or affection in his actions; rather, it was all fueled by anger and hatred.

The tension in the room was palpable, and you found yourself unable to move or speak. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, and every time he moved, it caused your insides to writhe and protest. The thought of having sex with someone you hated so much was sickening, but at this point, you had no choice but to endure it.

You tried to bite down on your own lip, hoping to muffle some of the sounds of discomfort that were escaping your mouth. But it was no use; your moans were too loud and too frequent for you to keep quiet. And even though you knew that he would only use it against you later, you couldn't help but give in to the pleasure, however small it may be.

Osamu groaned out loud, his voice rough and strained as he felt his orgasm approaching. It was almost painful, the way he had to force himself to continue moving. But he wouldn't stop until he had finished, and when he finally did, he collapsed on top of you, his weight crushing you against the bathroom sink.

He pulled out of her with a grunt, his eyes still closed as he tried to catch his breath. Then, without warning, he reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. When you opened your mouth to say something, he cut her off with a harsh glare.

"You think you can get away with your little tricks?" he growled, his tone dark and threatening. "Well, guess again."

He felt his climax approaching, so he released all inside of you, and as soon as you left, Dazai let out a sigh, his face twisting into a scowl. "Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. "Why does she have to be so difficult? It's like pulling teeth to get anything out of her. This is going to be a nightmare." He plopped down on the couch, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I swear, sometimes I wish I could just strangle her and be done with it."

[ghibli-collector]

For anyone who’s already seen Boy and the Heron i found this really interesting article where Ghibli Boss/Producer Suzuki was interviewed recently by indie wire and explains the background of the characters from the new Ghibli film, I’ve copied the full article below or you can click the link to go to the interview but once again it contains so many spoilers

‘The Boy and the Heron’ Is So Personal, Hayao Miyazaki Needed a Year to Grieve Before Pivoting in a New Direction

Miyazaki came out of retirement for his first film in a decade, about his friendships at Ghibli with the late co-founder/director Takahata and co-founder/producer Suzuki.

When Hayao Miyazaki pitched “The Boy and the Heron” (GKids, now in select L.A. and NYC theaters) to Studio Ghibli co-founder/producer Toshio Suzuki in 2016, he asked permission to make the story about himself. This took Suzuki — his friend of nearly 40 years at the time — by surprise; the legendary anime director isn’t known for getting so personal. And yet this aligned perfectly with the notion that Ghibli films are devoted to reliving memories.

“I agree that it is Miyazaki’s most personal film because he actually told me,” Suzuki told IndieWire over Zoom through an interpreter. Not only is “The Boy and the Heron” inspired by Miyazaki’s childhood (he endured the firebombing of Japan during World War II and his father was director of the family’s aircraft manufacturing factory), but also his career at Ghibli with his two closest friends: the late studio co-founder/director Isao Takahata (“Grave of the Fireflies”) and Suzuki.

“Miyazaki is Mahito [the 12-year-old protagonist voiced by Luca Padovan in the English-language version], Takahata is the great uncle [voiced by Mark Hamill], and the gray heron [voiced by Robert Pattinson] is me,” Suzuki added. “So I asked him why. He said [Takahata] discovered his talent and added him to the staff. I think Takahata san was the one who helped him develop his ability. On the other hand, the relationship between the boy and the [heron] is a relationship where they don’t give in to each other, push and pull.”

Collectively, it’s a lot to unpack: Miyazaki came out of retirement for the second time after “The Wind Rises” (2013) to make his 12th feature — the semi-autobiographical, hand-drawn fantasy for his grandchildren. It’s about destruction, loss, and rebuilding a better future through imagination, inspired by the novel he adored as a child (“How Do You Live?”).

Mahito loses his mother in the firebombing of Japan and relocates to the countryside, where his father (voiced by Christian Bale), who runs an air munitions factory, marries his sister-in-law, Natsuko (voiced by Gemma Chan). Traumatized, angry, and confused, the boy encounters a talking heron (part bird, part man), who tells him that his mother is still alive and guides him to an alternate world in a magical tower shared by the living and the dead. There he encounters his great uncle, the architect of the tower, and reunites with both his mother (voiced by Karen Fukuhara) and Natsuko.

At first, Suzuki resisted green-lighting “The Boy and the Heron” because of Miyazaki’s age (he’s 82) and the great expense (it is arguably Japan’s most expensive film but has made the equivalent of nearly $80 million at the country’s box office). Yet Miyazaki wore down his resistance with his enthusiasm and impressive storyboarding. The film took seven years to complete, and Suzuki needed to hire some of Japan’s most talented animators outside of Ghibli to handle the task (including supervising animator Takeshi Honda of “Neon Genesis Evangelion” fame). With diminished stamina and failing eyesight, Miyazaki was unable to oversee the production in the same manner as when he was at the height of his creative powers and relied on Honda to draw, redraw, and review under close advisement.

But with the death of Takahata in 20018, a grief-stricken Miyazaki was forced to scale back the role of the great uncle in the story, who had previously been more central to the boy’s life. “After Takahata passed away, he wasn’t able to continue with that story, so he changed the narrative and it became the relationship between the boy and the Heron,” Suzuki continued. “And in his mind, initially, the Heron was something that symbolizes the eeriness of the mansion and that tower, even ominous, that he goes to during war time. But he changed it to this sort of budding friendship between the boy and the Heron.”

Miyazaki first toyed with the idea of exploring the theme of friendship in “The Wind Rises” (inspired by real-life fighter design engineer Jiro Horikoshi during World War II) before abandoning it. “So this time around, when the Heron became the centerpiece of the story, and he came with the storyboards, I was careful for him to not portray me in a bad way,” Suzuki said. “Having said that, I’ve known Miyazaki for 45 years. I remember everything about him. There are things that only I know. There are things that only the two of us know. And he remembers all these small details, which I was very impressed with.”

For example, when Mahito and the Heron sit and chat at the house of Kiriko (voiced by Florence Pugh), a younger, seafaring version of one of the old maids, it is a recreation of the way Miyazaki and Suzuki would meet. “The place that we do our meetings, where we have our conversation is at his studio, his atelier,” he added. “And he has this like large table, but we don’t sit facing each other, we sit next to each other, and we never look at each other when we talk. And what we discussed was very similar.”

During production, Suzuki became impatient to see the new storyboards with the great uncle. It seemed Miyazaki was intentionally stalling while grieving about Takahata. “My question was: ‘So when is the great uncle going to appear?'” said Suzuki. “He built this great character, but he never appears in the storyboards that he would bring me. But it took him actually about a year after the passing of Takahata that he was able to draw that character into the storyboards in the second half of the story.

“And the most surprising thing for me was when I saw the storyboard where Mahito was asked by his great uncle to carry on with this work, this legacy, and he says no — he declines the offer. Miyazaki was someone who followed the path of Takahata for so many years, and I thought it was a huge thing for him [to follow a different path].”

Meanwhile, Suzuki confirmed that Miyazaki has not retired. The film has given the director renewed confidence to keep working on other stories. However, Miyazaki can’t focus on new ideas while “The Boy and the Heron” remains in theaters. “He needs to empty his mind again,” Suzuki said, “and then when he’s emptied his mind with a blank canvas, he usually comes up with new ideas. So we have to wait a little more.”

[luvgam3]

Summery: The space from one another used to feel completely normal. But now it’s a month after you found yourself wrapped up in his arms once more, and everything feels out of place. The scent of you has faded from his pillow and your days feel like one endless cycle. But you can both still co-parent like you used to… right?

cw: afab!reader, angst + fluff, second chances, daughter calls reader “mama”, sigh the boyfriend was 100% Toji…

The long awaited part 2 to the Ex-Husband Nanami fic! I was so excited to post that fic I’m so glad you guys liked it as much as I did. Warning! I did originally start writing this in October so the autumn themes are heavy but not entirely specific- now let’s go those guys back together >:)

A lot has happened these past couple of months. You dove a little deeper into the dating pool, it bit you in the ass more than once; your daughter started preschool, that was a kick in the heart— and oh yeah! You slept with your ex husband…

That wasn’t apart of the plan, not even in the slightest. But it also wasn’t something you regret…

The morning after, you woke up with his strong arms wrapped tightly around you. Your ear pressed against his chest, the beating of his heart made your tired eyes droop again as you nuzzled farther into his warmth, a content hum bubbling up your throat as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead before sleep claimed you once more.

The thick smell of coffee and bacon invades your dreams as you stir. Stretching your arms above your head you listen to your body pop back into place before sitting up in a bed that isn’t yours. Clothes… you throw back the covers only for the cold to nip at your skin. On the foot of the bed are fresh clothes— his of course— folded neatly waiting for you. With chattering teeth you quickly dress in borrowed the clothes.

“Mama!” Little hands wrap around your leg, one shoots up in a quick grabby motion before she’s nestled tight in your arms. Your little one clings fiercely to you, shrill squeals worm their way into your heart as you pepper her tiny face in a million kisses. “Good morning baby!” You coo, voice light as you bounce her on your hip. “Did Mama surprise you?” You ask. She chirps in your arms and nods, the corners of her mouth sticky with jam. With a sleepy hum you wipe the grime away with your thumb after sitting at the table.

Nanami places a steaming mug of coffee infront of you, quickly scooping up your giggly daughter before you can protest. You lean back in your seat, the wood creaking with the motion as you watch them. She has his golden hair, it’s pulled back into two neat braids, little blue ribbons faceting them in place. Even after the divorce your stomach filled with butterflies as you watched him handle her so gently, pure joy etched onto his face no matter the time of day. But that was normal, right? He’s the father of your child, the thing that binds you even more together.

He feeds her a piece of egg before piling the rest onto a plate with bacon and toast, spinning on his heels wordlessly and sliding the steaming plate in front of you. A crooked grin graces his lips as he sits across from you, your little family all together. Rested and eating and happy.

It all felt so normal, like nothing had changed besides the weather and time and the clothes you wore. But things did change.

You left his house that afternoon in the dress you arrived in, your phone pressed to your ear as you listened to your (ex) boyfriend plead for your forgiveness. If that night had gone differently that anger would still be bubbling at the surface, but you were happy and forgiving then— even as you heard that man whine into the receiver like an overgrown child.

You pushed away that pitiful feeling of regret every time you called Nanami after. “Could you watch her tonight? Only for a couple of hours?” The answer was always a happy yes, and yet it always felt like you were kicking him over and over again. Hurting him in a way only you could. But he was just happy to hear your beautiful voice, to hear you had plans even if they didn’t involve him. Your world shouldn’t revolve around Nanami, your life was yours to live however you saw fit.

Did his heart ache when he heard his voice bleed through the background as you called to check in some nights? Yes. Did he spend every night cuddled up with the pillow that smelt like you until it eventually faded away again? Yes. Did he purposefully leave small things of his at your house after dinner nights in hopes your boyfriend would find them? Yes… but that means nothing.

It was all such a rotted twisted feeling that never seemed to go away for either of you, even as the leaves changed from green to red and the air felt crisper and the sun set earlier— that feeling lingered.

It lingers now, you sit on your couch with your legs tucked under you as you type and delete a text to Nanami. It should be simple— fuck— it used to be simple. But now it’s just,

Type, type, type, delete, delete,delete, type type type—

Sent, sent, sent—

You throw your phone onto the cushion next to you with an exasperated sigh. Tomorrow is Saturday, it’s a lazy day where you’d usually sleep in and the night before fills you with such joy. But you’re digging the balls of your palms into your eyes and groaning. It’s like you can feel the tension in your shoulders worsen as the days drag by.

Work, doctor’s appointments, calls from the preschool, ‘hey girly-‘ texts from your now ex boyfriend’s secret girlfriend. It all weighed on you now as you sank farther into the plush cushions, hugging a pillow to your chest with a groan as the smell of your leftover takeout food hung heavy in the air. The now cold contents sat infront of you as you waited in silence— it was that sharp ping that made you bold right up.

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

Autumn air fills your lungs as you stand in the morning sun, drinking in the way the chill reddens your cheeks and prickles your scalp.

Nanami pulls into your driveway— as punctual as always. You hear the excited pitter patter of your daughter hopping from one foot to the other as she watches him get out of the car, his arms held wide for her as she runs to him.

“Oof—“ you hear the muffled impact of her ramming into him with all of her strength, her shrill giggles carried by the chilly breeze as he pick her up, bouncing her on his hip. Nanami smooths her hair with the back of his hand as you make your way after them.

“You look beautiful today, sunshine.” He coos, readjusting her sweater to ensure she’s safe and warm. “Thank you, Daddy!” She chirps, her words so adorably jumbled, her ‘thank you’ coming out as a confident ‘tank yoo’ that warms your heart a million times over.

When she’s secure in the backseat Nanami finally allows himself to slip into the drivers seat. He runs a hand through his neatly combed hair, readjusts his beige scarf and grips the steering wheel before turning his gaze to finally meet yours. You look at him with a sweet grin, that look in your eyes tells him you have something. Is it a gift? Is it trouble? He hums before asking, “what?”

Your eyes dart to the cup holder, then to his face, and then to the cup holder and then to him—

He follows your bouncing eyes and they land on a blue travel mug, a small tendril of steam swirling its way out and into the car. “I brought you some coffee.” You say as you wiggle awkwardly in your seat.

Bringing him coffee used to be such a normal thing, but now it felt odd. It made your palms sweaty and your ears burn as you watched him eye the cup. A small smile ghosting his lips as he reaches for it, smelling it quickly before taking a sip, a hum of gratitude rumbles in his throat. It’s bitter and perfectly hot, it’s the same as all of the other coffees you’ve made him and yet he finds himself loving this moment alone.

“Thank you.” He says, he smiles freely now as he sets it down, quickly putting the car in reverse and avoiding your watchful gaze.

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

“Be carful!” You yell after your daughter, her little legs carrying her farther and farther down the green and orange patch as you quickly walk after her, Nanami on your heels. “Jesus—“ you sprint now, quickly scooping her into your arms, she white knuckles a dead leaf in one hand and a twig in the other as you pant. Spinning on your heels you catch sight of Nanami trailing after you with a perfectly round pumpkin in his grasp.

He takes in your disheveled state, your hair slightly frizzy, your daughter babbling in your arms, your already tired and flushed cheeks as a gentle smile twitches on your lips— he turns around, waving his hand back at your before breaking into a sprint.

What a freak… you look down at the little girl in your arms, exchanging a wild look of confusion, “your daddy is…” you look up to watch him flag down a worker as he slows his pace, “an odd man.” The tips of your ears heat as you watch Nanami march back with a little red wheelbarrow covered in hay.

You place her down, she immediately drops her previous findings to play with the dried hay under her. “Aren’t you smart.” You say. He rolls his shoulders, burrying a look pride that threats to rear its head.

“I just thought it would be more efficient.” He adjusts his scarf again, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand. He fidgets as you chuckle.

You don’t remember when you wondered off but you find yourself crouched down next to a lumpy pumpkin, running your fingers over the wart speckled skin. With gentle hands you scope it up, a warmth fills your chest as you turn to look for Nanami.

You hear it before you you see it— see them.

A woman presses her dainty hand on his shoulder, her lips curled into a pearly smile as she giggles at whatever he’s said while he cradles your daughter in his arms, a little pumpkin in her chubby grasp.

That beautiful warm feeling in the pit of your stomach turns sour. You swallow it down, biting back the nausea as you place your pumpkin in the wheelbarrow. “I’ll take her so you can talk.” You say, your lips pulled into a sickeningly fake smile as you hold out your now empty hands. You meet the woman’s gaze, her smile faltering as you quietly coo “come to mama!” as Nanami hands her off. You don’t stay long enough for him to introduce you, but then again how would he introduce you? You aren’t dating after all, not even married anymore. So why do you even care?

Nanami watches you leave, watches as you bounce your little girl on your hip as you step over vines and disappear into the patch. What was that about?

He pushes his glasses on top of his head as he leans down and grasps the handle to the wheelbarrow “It was nice to meet you.” He says, his voice slightly strained as his mind wonders.

He doesn’t hear as she calls out to him, he’s already gone.

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

The car ride home is quite aside from the soft music bleeding through the speakers and the tiny yawns coming from the backseat. Neither of you have spoken a word. Nanami wordlessly helped you load the pumpkins into the trunk, wordlessly warmed up the car as you buckled in your daughter, and now he wordlessly drove you home.

Why were you so quiet? You were all smiles this morning, you looked just like you did when he first met you. Gleaming, brimming with wonder and awe and mischief. Now you looked out the window, curled in on yourself in the passenger seat picking at a string on your jeans as he pulled into your driveway.

Your perfume hangs heavy in the air even as you slide out of the passenger seat, quietly clicking the door closed behind you. He just doesn’t understand. You let Nanami gather your sleeping daughter into his warm gentle arms while you unlock the door as quietly as humanly possible.

You work as a team to carefully remove her boots and her jacket before safely tucking her in. Not a word was uttered as you worked in tandem.

Unloading the car.

Slipping off your shoes.

Getting the kitchen ready to make lunch.

You aren’t stupid, you can feel Nanami’s eyes burning holes into the back of your skull as you wash veggies in the sink. Snatching a dishtowel you whip around to face him, your brows furrowed. “What?” You snap, your tone unintentional but it’s too late to take it back.

His eyebrow twitches, your arms folded over your chest, your eyes holding something he’s only ever seen a small handful of times on you— rage.

“You look upset.” He says, his tone unbothered as shifts his weight from foot to foot.

Your skin prickles, you muster the best fake smile you can and say, “I’m not.” But he can see through it. Your eyes don’t crinkle and there isn’t a drop of light in your tone as you move to turn back around, his hand grips your shoulder so suddenly his touch firm but gentle, and that somehow makes you angrier.

You don’t talk as you throw the dishtowel onto the counter, pushing past him and storming outside. The air hits your exposed skin as soon as the door flies open, cooling your reddening face. Nanami trails after you, “wait— wait, please—“

“What!” You seethe, the word coming through gritted teeth as you run your hands over your face. “What— whatwhatwhatwhat— what, Kento what do you want?” Your words run together, a feeling of dread sitting like a rock at the bottom of your stomach.

“Woah!” Nanami grips your shoulder, rushing to face you head on. “What’s happening? I just want to know what’s wrong!” Two strong hands grip at your shoulders now, the weight of them grounding yet irritating.

It’s like reality is crashing down all around you. What’s happening? Why do you feel like this? A scoff pushes past your trembling lips, panicked and on the verge of a sob. His voice is gentle, laced with concern as you shrug off his hands, “Honey, what’s happening?”

It’s a bullet through the heart.

Before it sounded like music, the way he’d cradle you in his arms and call you such sweet names.

But here you are, jabbing your finger into his chest as you look up at him with fiery eyes.

“That!” You yell, leaves skitter across the lawn. “God I thought we had it so figured out!”

His shoulders sag, angry tears prickle the backs of your eyes, the clouds overhead cast out the sun. Shades of grey.

Nanami stays rooted in place. “We do, what’s going on with you right now?” His voice is so calm, so caring, it makes your throat tighten and you prey, prey that you can choke it down.

You open your mouth, you can taste the wretched gasp that threatens to squeak through “I don’t get it—“ the wind picks up and it does nothing to cool the fire raging in your chest.

“God I fucked this all up—“ you don’t mean to say it, why are you saying it? It isn’t true. At least that’s what Nanami thinks, he steps forward, his fingers brush your arm. “I should’ve just gone home that night, but you lived so close and I just needed…” it happens, that awful weight in the pit of your stomach migrates to your chest as you choke.

He doesn’t ask, doesn’t think, the action coming back to him as if he’d done it just yesterday.

One moment you’re choking on your own words as a sob is wretched from your throat, the next your ear is listening to the firm beating of his heart as it hammers against his ribs. The warmth of his skin searing and welcome as your fingers ball into the fabric of his shirt.

His hand cradles the back of your head, his palm shielding the nape of your neck from the bitter wind. “Breathe, focus on breathing.”

It sounds so simple, but you’ve forgotten how as you choke on air. But he clings to you, combing his fingers through your hair and trailing the tips of his fingers down your spine and back up again.

“I’m sorry.” You sob, your brows furrowed as you squeeze your eyes closed. “Ugh this is so stupid, I don’t even know why I’m upset.”

His fingers continue to trail up and down your spine. “You do, just take a second.”

Up and down.

Tears cool against your cheek as you sigh, that first healing gulp of air that fills your lungs makes your shoulders sag. You unball your fists, letting the throbbing ache ease away as you wrap your arms around his middle.

“I think I’m just confused.”

Up and down.

“Can I ask you a question?”

His fingers still and you can feel him nod before he answers, “of course.”

It’s stupid, you’ve known each other for years this shouldn’t be as hard as it is!

“Was it weird for you too?” You hate how small your voice sounds. “The morning after I mean.”

Nanami chuckles, the sound light. “Was it weird having you back in my life again if only for a night? Yeah it was a little weird.” His words hold no anger or disgust, his fingers trail up your spine again. “I missed you, if that’s what you were asking.”

You don’t say anything, letting the softness of this moment seep into your bones as you breath.

“I’m sorry for how I acted, I shouldn’t have iced you out like that. I was just mad at myself.” You say, your words muffled as you press into his chest, the thought of looking him in the eyes after this makes your stomach flip, so you cling to him.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Now you laugh, it’s startling how quickly it came about but you both welcome it. “No! I was just…” you groan, more at yourself than anything, “jealous.”

The clouds part slightly, golden rays of midday sun shine down as Nanami laughs, his shoulders bouncing and his lungs burning as he clings to you a little tighter.

“Hey, that’s not funny!” You yell, the ghost of a giggle trailing after as you slap his arm.

“Now can I ask you a question?” His voice is so sweet, you nod against his chest.

“Do you think maybe we could go out for dinner,” he stops, making a face to himself. It was exactly this painstakingly awkward when he asked you out for your very first date. Even now his palms are getting clammy, why is he making it so weird! “Just us.”

Your laugh is the same as it was back then, but now it’s aged. It’s warm, it makes his stomach flutter just like it did then.

“Kento Nanami,” you smile as you lean back, your eyes meeting his. Both of your minds are reeling, cheeks heating like this is your first time seeing one another. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Ugh that smile on your face, it makes his heart clench. He’s such a strong man, tonight he’ll pat himself on the back for not kissing that smile off your face.

He gives a bashful nod, “you can say no, this whole situation is weird and all but…” his hand trails down your arm until it grasps yours, his rough thumb ghosting over your knuckles. “I’m willing to try again if you are.”

The sun shines down on his face, your favorite parts of him coming into view more clearly the longer you look at him.

It’s scary, there’s no denying that. There’s also no denying how right this moment feels. Here in his arms picking up the pieces of the life you swore you’d build together. Bit by bit.

You chuckle, that beautiful smile he thinks about so often gracing your lips, “I expect you to pick me up by five and have me home no later then ten.”

Leaves fall from the trees overhead.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

It isn’t ideal, but it’s yours— this moment in time. Your hand in his as autumn air sends chills up your spine, leaves crunched under your bare feet as you stay close to one another.

A lot has happened these past few months, this was no where close to being in the plans, and somehow it feels like it was always meant to be.

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

PLSPLSPLS can we know more about the office ?? like what everyone did and their personalities and stuff. i love the office sm

this is going to be long

everyone has this weird thing where they're referred to by a nickname in the workplace , which corresponds to their job , appearance or generally something else they're known for . there is no deep story reason to this i just do not want to think of first and last names

they work in c&a which was at first a chill company but after the disappearance of its two valuable employees everything went to Shit™

the boss was a pretty eccentric man that bears a lot of similarities to his mascot , caine . there was only one person he allowed to call him mr. bossman . after the incident though he became more intolerant of imperfection and have a shorter temper .

king and queen were like those corny as hell old couple that unintentionally adopted their department . king was the goofy dad that always cheered everyone up and queen was a mysterious little thing with passionate dreams of arson ( there was no heater in the office )

i think you can garner a guess on where their nicknames came from

clown was the laid-back janitor that always wanted to lighten the mood with his Very hit-or-miss jokes , which is what earned him his nickname . was dolly's anchor through The Incident and the worst of bossman

disappeared after spreading rumors about the company

dolly's the darling secretary of c&a who often did her tasks with a smile and got along with everyone in the office . called ' dolly ' because of her ( suspected to be unhealthy ) obsession of raggedy ann which she often has sitting on her desk . for Emotional Support , she claims

disappeared a week after her eye surgery

jester was the accountant that was always the butt of the joke in the office . she was often the victim of pranks and was never taken seriously by a lot of her co-workers - which is how she got her nickname .

a nervous wreck but don't let that fool you .

was good friends with ribbons but that's because she was one of the only people that didn't approve of her treatment

rabbit's the only one who didn't work for the company . instead he was a feral child that kept breaking into the building and messing with everyone . given a nickname because no one fucking knows who he is or where his parents are at WHOSE MENACE IS THIS

never came back one day . for all they know he got lost in a forest and Never Returned

ribbons was the artist who helps with conceptualizing the products . she was called ribbons because she wore a bajillion ribbons on her hair . would often sleep on the job because she only ever gets 3 hours of sleep

disappeared sometime after rabbit .

scramble was the moody intern that would come back years after as a worker - to where they would last for a month before disappearing . a rebellious teen who just went to adopt a random , mentally ill 23 year old woman as their adopted mom . called scramble due to how their fashion looks like ' a bunch of things mashed together '

[stubz]

"You said you'd be better after the Tri-Eclipse festival, when we all come back from vacation."

"Yeah that's right."

"Will you promise me that you'll run with me when we get back?"

"...I'll do my best. Yeah. I'll do my best buddy."

.

"Max when we get back after the holidays will you run with me?"

"Yeah. I'll start training, practice running."

"Oh yeah, cause it's been a long time since you ran."

"Yeah...almost 2 months...wow."

..

"Got any plans for the 2 weeks we get off?"

"Yeah I'm gonna train."

"Train for what?"

"Running. I told the kids I'd run with them when we get back."

"Aww that's cute. But yeah you need to test things out right? Start off slow so as to not overdue it when you play with them again."

"Yeah...wanna hear something funny?"

"Sure."

"I, I miss running. I know I said I hate running and that I only ran with the kids because it's good exercise but...I miss it." he puts down his fork. Staring at his plate of food from the ship's cafeteria. He continues.

"I had a dream last night. I was on Earth, in a field of tall grass and flowers, it was summer. The sun was shining, a beautiful warmth on my skin, with a cool gentle breeze on my skin. I was barefoot. I could run and I ran for miles. I ran even after my lungs were on fire, even when the sun went down...I miss running."

"Mmm"

...

Going on field trip. Yanosh came early so we took the noon shuttle. Come as soon as you can. Shuttle A-11.

'I didn't know we had a field trip today.' he thought after reading the text Kim sent.

He grabbed his hoodie and the other emergency bag and made his way to the shuttles. Luckily the A-11 was an express and he would be wherever it was going in 20 minutes.

12 minutes into the ride he noticed that they were approaching Earth.

....

Turn left in 200 meters...You have reached your destination.

"...ha haha hahahahaha! Are you guys serious?!"

"Surprise Max!!"

In front of the young man was his class of youngling alien children (with a handful of humans ones), co-worker and friend. Standing in a field of tall grass and flowers. Yanosh and Kim held a banner saying congratulations.

"I know you've been training in the gym but I thought you'd want your first real run to be somewhere...special."

He scooped his friend into a hug. Then pulled in the children until they were all sent crashing down into a pile full of laughter and giggles.

"You ready?"

"Yeah, yeah definitely!"

"READY KIDS?!"

"YEAH!"

"LET'S GOOO!"

And for the first time in 2 months human Max ran. Past the slowest ones first. He tried to pat every one of them on the head as he flew bye. Broke through the pack of the average runners. A laugh trailed behind him. One by one surpassed the faster one's. His unused lungs somehow allowing him to whoop in-between pants.

He raced every child. Played every game he could not play before. Carried those who longed to be carried again. He ran despite the burning in his lungs and the sweat in his eyes. He ran through the pain in his feet and the exhaustion in his body until he collapsed.

Laying there in the dirt surrounded by the children and his friend he smiled. And he wore that smile in his sleep on the way back to the centre.

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Might write this into a full story- depends. Salaryman!NanamixReader! -canon adjacent ramble-

“(Y/N) are you ready for lunch?”

A simple question shouldn’t have shocked you so much but, coming from Nanami Kento it did.

You were attractive. You didn’t believe that or at least not to the extent Nanami had explained but, you were. You gained so much attention at the office that all went unnoticed by you. From bosses, coworkers, random delivery guys- it was madness basically. And you were just at your desk, not a care in the world, just thinking how nice everyone is at this job.

Everyone knew, especially Nanami. Unlike the others, he was a professional and never let himself get sucked into your orbit. He thought you were an admirable worker and you seemed nice. At the end of the day though you were just another coworker at the company he hated. He would catch you staring at him sometimes. He would pretend not to notice but it had started to get annoying. It was only after he noticed how you avoided the copy room did he understand: you can see curse spirits too.

He felt bad for you. You obviously didn’t know anything about curses or sorcery and now your work area isn’t safe. As long as you weren’t attacked he thought it would be okay to ignore it but the stressed expression you wore when asked to make a copy or go get some documents ate away at him. Nanami started to coveiently be around the copy room at the same time as you. And the strange little creature in the corner always seemed to be gone. You also felt lighter for the first time in years. You spent most of your life in constant fear of little creatures and dark energies you felt all around you. It plagued you as a child and your parents could never console you. You eventually learned to just deal with it. You had been able to get by the past couple of years without much trouble until you started working and saw it. A tiny, creepy, rat-like-fly-like-bird-like creature. It was hideous. But when Nanami would follow behind you to the copy room it never seemed to be there. In fact, you felt light around him. Like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

This became your routine. Nanami didn’t seem to mind. You were constantly surrounded by others so he assumed you didn’t notice him. Not until one long company outing. You hated these. Nanami hated these. That’s probably why you were both drinking so heavily, the only two non-lightweights. All your co-workers were absolutely gone including your supervisors. It didn't take long before everyone called it quits. While standing outside, idly swaying, you spoke to Nanami in the longest conversation you two have ever had. You admitted that you felt safe around him, safer than you did at home. It almost felt like the horrid feeling you got at work suddenly transferred to your home. Nanami, being the gentleman he is, offered to take you home and you (still drunk) said “You’d rather spend time at his home just to keep feeling safe tonight.

That’s how you found yourself in Nanami’s large bed, in his moderate apartment, not as hung-over as you thought you would be. You walked out of the room to the smell of breakfast being made. You noticed a spare pillow and blanket on the couch as you st at the breakfast bar.

“Good Morning.” He said “Coffee or tea.”

“Tea.” You replied softly, “I didn’t mean to steal your bed.”

“It’s fine, you fell asleep in the taxi, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh god,” you whined inwardly, “Did I say anything embarrassing?”

“You said you felt safe with me.” He said in a monotone voice as if theat wasn’t the most embarrassing thing to be told at 8 am.

You laid your head down on the counter top. This day could not get worse.

Nanami found it somewhat endearing. He decided that today was not a good day to tell you about curses. Now he just wanted you to feel better.​​ Instead of it being awkward, you two became somewhat closer. Work friends at least. It turned to actual friends and somewhat more. You didn’t really know what to call it, he felt like a boyfriend though. Nanami never protested you saying so. During work hours you stayed friendly and cooperative. Despite his apartement being bigger, Nanami enjoyed your home instead. He insisted that laying in your bed was better. He would jokingly say it was to keep you safe.

So yeah! It was a bit of a shock to you and the surrounding co-workers when Nanami-I-hate-work-Kento suddenly asked you to lunch and addressed you by your FIRST NAME.

“U-Uh, yeah. C-Coming.” You stumbled over your words and handed the paperwork to the coworker.

“Oh I thought we could get lunch today.” He said

“Sorry, Kento and I already had plans.” You replied with an embarrassed smile. It felt strange calling him by his first name in front of others. It was kind of nice too.

“So what was that,” You smiled as you both sat down for lunch.

“What was what?” He replied plainly.

“You seemed a little upset that Takahiro was going to ask me out for lunch.”

“Really? I didn’t notice him.”

You chuckled, “You also called me (Y/N).”

“I should have checked first, I’m sorry.”

“No. I like it. I would like it if you called me that all the time. I won’t be here long anyway.” You smiled. Kento often spoke about how you garnered attaentioned but you didn’t notice until this last month when you announced you were transferring.

“Alright I will then.” Kento said with a small hint of a smile. “I’ll be leaving a little after you.”

“Are you transferring?”

“No, I talk to an old classmate of mine. They found a mentorship for me, it’s at my old highschool.”

“That’s sweet!” You swooned, “Those kids would be lucky to have you.”

“I hope so. I want to give them the guidance I wish I had back then.”

After your lunch you both made your way back to the building. You both noticed a definite shift in the air. Takahiro must have spread the word already. It didn’t matterm you were both going to be out of this place so any idle gossip meant nothing. The day ended and you were about to part ways when he handed you his spare key. “I have to meet with my classmate for a bit, would you mind going over to my place?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.” You seemed a little skeptical.

“There’s also something I wanted to talk with you about, I won’t be long. Don’t worry about cooking, I'll bring dinner.” He said as a black car rounded the corner.

“Is it something bad?” You asked.

“No, just important before I take this big step. I know I have your full support but I want you to know everything before I do.”

The car pulled in front of you both, the window rolled down and there sat a man with short parted black hair and black rimmed glasses. He spoke, “Nanami-san.”

“Text me when you get there.” Kento said as he reached for the door.

“Okay.” You smiled. He leaned over to give you a kiss and stepped into the backseat of the black car. You waved him off befoer turning towards the train station.

“It’s good to see you again, Nanami-san.” Ijichi said.

“Ijichi-san. Could you not mention anything you saw to anyone?” The two men made eye contact through the rearveiw mirror. A silent agreement was made. Nanami hadn’t fully agreed yet but keeping you out of the way of the higher ups took priority. He needed to make sure you knew exactly what those creatures were. What jujutsu sorcery was. What you were possibly risking by staying with him. He had to do it tonight while you still had a chance to leave. He loves you. He can’t tell you that though. He needed to make sure you wouldn’t stay if you had the choice.

He needed to keep you safe.

[holdmytesseract]

Birthday Magic

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Summary: Everybody around you tends to forget your birthday, because of all the Christmas trouble. Except Loki, of course...

Warnings: none, except a tiny bit of suggestive smut (Blink and you'll miss it.), fluuuuff

Word Count: 1,9k

a/n: This fluffy lil' oneshot is a part of @fictive-sl0th 's Secret Santa Event! 🎅🏻🎁 I had the honour to write mine for @give-me-a-moose ! 🤗 I really hope you like this! 🥰 And happy belated birthday! 💚

Secret Santa 2023 Taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficionaldomina @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @cultofcarter @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @glitchquake @holymultiplefandomsbatman @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @quirkiest-turtle

Tags: @huntress-artemiss @chennqingg @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @goblingirlsarah @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds

divider by the lovely @jiyaxedits <3

Yawning, you stretched and opened your eyes; blinking, before you reached over to turn off your alarm clock. The winter sun shone through the big French doors of your bedroom. You immediately saw that it had snowed over night; a white blanket covering New York City. It was beautiful - and yet was a certain sadness overshadowing the wonders of winter...

You sighed and rolled out of bed; finding a little note on your bedside table - like every day. Even when Loki was on a mission, the note appeared on your night-stand magically.

'Good morning, angel. Have a great day. I love you. x'

Your boyfriend's words made you smile at least a little bit, until realisation hit you. He didn't remember. Of course he didn't remember. Nobody ever does.

You hung your head; trying to suppress the upcoming tears. Today was your birthday, but since it was December and Christmas in not even two weeks, hardly anyone remembered your birthday. Everyone was just too caught up in the preparations for the holidays. And as sad as it sounded... You got used to it. Perhaps that was the reason why you stopped telling people about your birthday.

With another sigh, you made your way into the kitchen to eat a little something for breakfast. Then you got ready, put on your winter coat, boots and beanie and went to work.

Luckily, it was at least a normal day at the office. The regular every-day madness. You quickly got all the things done on your to-do list and were even able to call it a day one hour earlier than usual. After saying goodbye to your co-workers, you took the subway and headed back home. On your way, you got a chocolate cupcake - a little something for yourself to celebrate your birthday. You could already picture it... You, the cupcake, decorated with a single candle and a big glass of alcohol. Perfect.

Sighing, you turned the key in the lock of your apartment on the 5th floor. You absolutely had zero expectations of today and expected not the slightest thing to happen. Therefore, you were more than just surprised, when you walked inside a literal pool out of balloons, birthday decorations and... confetti? You frowned; thinking out loud. "What...?"

You weren't able to finish your thoughts, when suddenly Loki jumped around the corner. "Surprise, my love!" He wore the biggest smile on his face - and a party hat on his head. "And the happiest of birthdays to my ray of sunshine!"

You blinked; felt like a deer caught in the headlights. It was beyond your wildest dream. Never ever surprised you somebody on your birthday like Loki just did. Sure, your parents did, back when you were a child, but... Late teens and early adult years? Nope.

"L-Loki? I-I... What... What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be o-on a mission?" You stammered out; trying to grasp this. Your boyfriend was still smiling like a Cheshire cat. "Of course not, darling. It was just a little white lie, so that I was able to set this up while you're at work." Then his smile faltered a little. "Do you not... like it?"

You could've cried then and there out of happiness.

"What? No! No! I do like it! Gods, I love it! It's been years since the last time somebody surprised me on my birthday like this!" You couldn't help yourself but to jump into his arms; wrapping your legs around his waist. "Thank you. Thank you so much, baby." Loki chuckled; his big hand stroking your back in a reassuring, loving manner. "I-I thought you forgot my birthday... Just like everyone else and-" "Darling..." Loki interrupted you immediately. "I could never forget the birthday of the person I love the most in all the nine realms - and especially not the first birthday we are about to share together."

A few tears ran down your cheeks. Tears of happiness. "You're the best." A low chuckle rumbled through your boyfriend's chest again, before he gave you a wink, "I know." and a smile. "And this..." He gestured around the hallway. "This is only the beginning."

Loki didn't exaggerate when he said that this was only the beginning. Oh no... After he had carried you through the sea of balloons into the kitchen, he showed you the cake he had baked for you. You were absolutely thrilled of course, and it tasted delicious. You blew out the candles and ate a big slice, just like Loki.

After that, he told you to wrap yourself up in warm clothes, because you were going outside. And again, you weren't in the slightest prepared. You wouldn't have thought that Loki rented the ice rink only for the two of you... For as long as you wanted.

"Loki, are you... Are you insane?" You laughed; not believing what was happening right now. The god just laughed and tied the laces of his ice skates, "Insanely in love, perhaps." before he glided gracefully on the ice rink. "Are you joining me now, my love?" He asked with a mischievous smirk, while he skated like the ice prince he was past you. You smiled brightly and quickly exchanged your boots with ice skates.

After you and Loki have been enjoying yourselves on the ice rink; making races and even tried to 'dance' to the music playing in the background together, you went back to your apartment. Cold and with frozen toes, but happy.

"I think I need a hot shower now," you said; feeling the goosebumps on your skin. "You do just that, darling." "Won't you join me?" You asked suggestively; wagging your eyebrows. Loki chuckled. "I'd love to, but I have a few more things to organise. I'll see you later. Take all the time you need." He pressed a sweet kiss on your lips and left you alone to shower. You were slightly sad that Loki wasn't going to join you, but you were also super excited. This birthday was already the best you ever had. What would be able to top that?

Wallowing in the memories of the wonderful hours you already spent with Loki today, you showered and stepped thirty minutes later out of the bathroom. To your surprise was your apartment immersed in darkness - and your boyfriend vanished.

"Loki?" You hesitatingly called down the hall, but received no answer. "Where is he?" you mumbled to yourself; making your way to the bedroom. Arrived there, you switched on the lights and immediately saw a large, thin box laying on the soft mattress. Frowning, you approached the bed. A note was laying on top of it, on which you could clearly make out Loki's handwriting.

'I hope this dress is worthy of the goddess who is going to wear it. You will be awaited downstairs at eight o'clock.'

Your heart almost stopped at his words. A big smile formed on your face. Biting your lip, you carefully opened the box - only to find a beautiful emerald green dress inside it. It was so stunningly beautiful, it took your breath away. With wide eyes, you lifted it out of the box; gasping. "Oh he can't be serious... He can't..." You let your eyes roam the fabric. "Wow..." You breathed in awe, then squealed; excitedly getting ready and dressed. The dress fitted you perfectly; molded against your dips and curves.

Five minutes before the clock stroke eight o'clock, you made your way downstairs. Excitement and nervousness coursed through your body. You couldn't wait to see what Loki had planned.

When you stepped out of the main door to the rather small building you lived in, you felt your breath catch in your throat - again.

Loki was standing on the sidewalk, in front of a black limousine; dressed in a green velvet suit with a black dress shirt and bow tie. A bouquet of black roses was in his right hand; his other stuffed in his trousers pocket and a bright smile on his face.

He looked devastatingly handsome.

You felt like fainting and crying out of happiness at the same time.

"There you are, my love." He said in a happy voice; "You look ravishing." giving you that smouldering look. You blushed. "T-Thank you. You look handsome, t-too." The god softly shook his head; causing his long raven curls to sway. "Not remotely as beautiful as you look."

He then stepped closer; gave you a soft kiss and handed you the bouquet of roses. "T-Thank you. For everything. For the cake, the ice skating, the dress, the roses..." Loki only chuckled; placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you towards the limousine. "Like I said, darling... It's only the beginning. We are not finished yet." Mischief twinkled in his beautiful blue orbs, as he opened the car door for you.

"After you, my goddess."

You blushed even more and sat in the car.

A fifteen minute car ride later, you stopped in front of one of the finest, noblest restaurants in whole New York City. Once more, your jaw dropped. "No, Loki... You... You are kidding me, right?" Your boyfriend chuckled; shaking his head "I'm not." "B-But Loki, this... This is way too expensive! I-I don't deserve this, I-" He interrupted you by taking your hand in his and placing a soft kiss upon your knuckles. "You, my love, deserve the world. Especially on the day you were born."

He led you inside the fancy restaurant then, to a table he had reserved for the both of you.

The time you spent there with Loki was splendid - just like the food. It had been quite a while since you ate so good. Especially at a restaurant. The ambience was lovely and the waiters absolutely kind and friendly. You enjoyed the talks with Loki, the glasses of wine and also the soft jazz music in the background.

After the dinner, the limousine took you and Loki back home.

"Thank you for this wonderful day, baby. I didn't have such a wonderful birthday in years. Thank you for thinking of me and giving me all this. And especially... Thank you for your love." Loki smiled and embraced you; gently, lovingly swaying you from side to side. It almost felt like you were dancing.

"You don't have to thank me for that, my love. It goes without saying. I love you - and my purpose is to make and see you happy. Oh, which reminds me of something... Your actual birthday present..." Your eyes widened once again. "No, Loki, stop you've given me enough..." Loki shook his head; still smiling. "It's not a physical present."

Now you were confused. Something the god noticed immediately.

Loki took both your hands in his. "Your birthday present is a trip to Asgard."

You stared at Loki; speechless. "W-What?" He just smiled. "I know that you always wanted to go there; see my home and... I... I think I'm ready to go back with you and show you everything you wish to see." "R-Really?" He nodded. "Really."

Tears formed in your eyes. The realisation hitting you that Loki was willing and ready to open up the doors to his past for you was touching you deeply. "Thank you. Thank you for trusting me this much, I- Wow, I... I love you."

Loki smiled. A gentle hand caressed your cheek and wiping your tears of happiness away. "I love you too."

You couldn't help but to stand on your tiptoes and kiss the god.

"This is the best birthday ever!"

[ihaznoclue]

Can I request about the reader's special ability that she was affected by ethereal but gain powers from it? For example, her eyes were like black holes for ethereal heads but with stars on them and wore ethereal armors and weapons! Maybe a scenario for Lycaon, Seth, or Billy, but I don't mind which characters for this scenario idea! Thank you for reading this, and I love your work! (*/∀＼*)

TYSM <3 I love when people say they love my work, I'm very glad ^w^

Parings -> Von Lycaon, Billy Kid x Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> Reader being able to gain special powers form a ethereal

Genre -> Fluff

Von Lycaon

When you two first met, he actually thought you were a Ethereal that was going to attack him.

He was on a mission from one of his clients that they were missing their child in the hollow.

You quickly explained to him that you were affected but not affected which confused him a bit until you explained more.

You explained to him on how you stayed inside the hollow and got attack by an Ethereal, but instead of turning into one, you gained powers from one.

Your eyes used to be (E/C) until your eyes turned fully black as a star formed as your pupil. You also had some of the Ethereal crystals on your face and arms as armor, you also had a shield weapon that you carry on your back.

Lycaon was now interested so he took you with him, to find the missing child for his client, you wanted to help people.

You still had control over your body which was a good things as well as gaining the strong power to fight Ethereal.

Even the big and strong ones with Lycaon beside you.

It has seemed that you and Lycaon were now friends.

He turned you in and you eventually met his work mates.

Victoria Housekeeping Co.

Billy Kid

When you two first met was also in a hollow, he was on a mission with the Cunning hares but he accidently got separated from them.

That's when he met you, walking around the hollow

He was confused on why a random stranger was in a hollow so he shouted out to you.

He was shocked to see your eyes dull with darkness as he saw your star pupils?

Okay now that was a sight to see, during a time like this. You then happily said that you could finally get out of this hollow.

Wait how long have you been in this hollow for? 5 months! Geez...

You explained how you became like this, saying how you got attacked form a Ethereal and gaining it's power instead of turning into one.

He was quite interested so he stuck with you, until he found his gang.

You were happy he found his friends but you were sad, you missed everyone.

Your family and your friends. They all think you are dead.

Billy then pulled you to his gang as he introduced you.

Anby thought you were a Ethereal as she had her sword up to your neck, Billy rushed in as he explained everything.

They eventually took you in

You become a member of the Cunning Hares!

-A<3