#I kind of hope I don't have to take it down

[boopjuice]

@bluerosefox you have twisted my arm by giving me motivation to follow through on some ideas. Hope you enjoy this part

The logistics talk had to wait. Danny got a call from his parents, and it seemed to panic him because he immediately handed the phone back to the first person who'd had it. Dick thought his name was Tucker, is the second voice was to be believed.

"Sorry about that," the young voice said into the phone. "It's better for Danny to answer that, the last thing we want is for the Fenton's to not be able to get a hold of him and end up creating another world ending- I mean, they'll, uh, break down Sam's door! Yeah, because they're looking for him. Because he wasn't home at a normal time."

Well, if the others were as terrible liars as Tucker was, then there wouldn't be much of a problem figuring out who these people were. Not that there was going to be much of one anyway, considering how bored Tim looked typing away on his laptop.

"Sure. I get it. Overbearing parents can be a nightmare," Dick responded, ignoring the small look B sent his way. "I take it he still lives at home?"

"I mean, I guess we all do? We don't really have much of another choice."

"Danny mentioned school schedules. Are you all students?" Kori asked. Her grip on his shoulder had relaxed significantly since hearing their daughter's voice, and it showed in her speech too.

"Well, yeah."

"I see. What college do you go to?"

"College? I mean, I really want to get into MIT, but I'd settle for-" Tucker let out a pained huff on the other end, like someone had just hit him. There was a furious whisper session, possibly muffed behind a hand, before Tucker came back on the line.

"So, uh, Mar'i said you were a cop?"

Dick had the advantage of being a Bat almost his whole life, or he would have missed how the whole family perked up at the mention of wanting to go to college. Paired with the young voices and living at home, these kids couldn't have been out of high school yet.

"Yeah, a detective. But you managed to get a hold of my personal phone number less than three hours after my daughter went missing, so I assume you know at least that much."

"Oh, uh, well I- we! We have a, um... a really good... social media stalking method!" Dick heard Steph and Tim stifle laughs. He thought he heard a "Seriously, Tuck?" come through the line, too.

"I was better at deception by the time I was six," Damian whispered with a scowl that mirrored Bruce's. He'd bet money that the scowl was mostly genetic. It was kind of cute, how the two looked so much alike.

Aunty Ri-ri. Why had that kid, Dan, said that? There was no way Mar'i had any relation to him, and he'd be willing to bet that she definitely looked different enough that mistaking her as a relative wouldn't be an option.

There was your amnesia year, he thinks, and it twists his stomach into knots. Who knows what happened? Certainly not you.

"Perhaps we could begin to discuss how we could pick our daughter up? It sounds as though my husband needs to speak to your friend. When is a good time to meet?" Kori spoke up.

"Well, that's sort of... we'd have to do some coordinating with a few people. You know, because of club meetings and stuff! Danny's really involved in local clubs."

There was more scuffling over the phone, and Time tapped Dick's shoulder as the group waited for the two teens on the other side to stop fighting.

"The call's coming from the house of the Manson family. New socialites, so they don't have a lot of connections yet. They definitely try, though. They have a child, one Samantha Manson. I'm working on finding her connection to Danny and Tucker."

Dick nodded, turning back toward the phone as the female voice from earlier, Sam, began speaking.

"Danny's going to need too do the talking about logistics. He'd have to get away from his parents and clubs, but it might help when he gets back if he knows when some good times to meet you and your husband are."

"Of course. Richard, when do you think you can get time off so we can get Mar'i?"

"I can cover his patrol for a night if it runs long," Jason volunteered, and Dick really hoped that wouldn't be necessary. Jason pretending to be him would no doubt be the best time for his younger brother to set up some pranks that he'd rather avoid right after getting his daughter.

"No," B shut down. "Nightwing can ask one of the Titans to cover for him. If they all turn him down then you'll cover for him."

"I can call the captain. I might be able to get tomorrow off, but the day after's more likely. How long do you think the conversation's going to take? It'll be easier to set up a time if I know how long to expect to be gone."

"I can't give you a good estimate. But I would plan for a minimum of two hours."

"Alright. I'll ask the chief as soon as this call is done."

"Sounds good. The sooner we can get her home the better."

"You said it," Danny said. His voice was distant, and tired. "They still on the phone?"

"Yep," Sam said. There was a whooshing sound, and then a thunk. Sam had tossed Danny the phone, as evidenced by his now much clearer voice.

"Sorry about that. My parents wanted me to stop by for dinner with the frui- my godfather. They can be hard to get off my back about stuff to do with him. Anyway, we were about to discuss picking up Mar'i?"

Dick, Kori, and Danny ironed out details as best they could, agreeing to call each other in an hour with answers about getting out of their responsibilities elsewhere. Danny had sounded caught off guard when Dick brought up getting out of clubs, just solidifying that Tucker was lying on the spot.

Once he ended the call and texted his captain to ask for the following day off to get Mar'i he finally took in his family again. Bruce was busy supervising Damian digging through school files to look up Samantha Manson, but Tim was staring at his laptop in shock. As if that wasn't bad enough, Jason was standing behind Tim, also staring in shock.

"What? What did you find? Is she in danger?"

"No," Tim said. "But... Well, I think I know why Danny wanted to talk to you."

"Why?"

"You're going to wanna see for yourself, Dickwing," Jason said, plucking the laptop off Tim's lap, much to his displeasure, and handing it to Dick.

Tim had successfully found Samantha Manson's social media accounts, as well as those of the two people on the phone. Tucker Foley and Daniel Fenton were the two most tagged people in Manson's posts, and featured in several photos.

Quick scans showed that the three appeared to be romantically involved, having been close friends since early middle school. In the past several years there were few photos of Danny, and photos with him in them often had him blurred, even if the rest of the image was clear.

Thankfully, Tim already had a picture of the boy from what must have been their freshman year pulled up. The three were posed in front of Casper high, which must be their high school. Tucker, to the far left, was smiling wide, an arm wrapped around Samantha, who stood in the middle. She would have looked bored, save for the small smile on her face and the way her arms wrapped around Tucker and Danny's shoulders.

And Danny...

Dick understood why Tim and Jason were so shocked. He doubted anything could have prepared him to seeing his own face staring back at him through the screen.

He heard Kori gasp as she looked over his shoulder, and it was everything he could do to not drop the computer. Danny Fenton had his dark hair, his eyes, his cheeks, and the start of his build. At least, he had in early high school.

"That was the most recent clear photo I've managed to find of him," Time said. "I tried using the image sharpening software, but it never turned out anything recognizable."

"Bruce..."

His father was behind him in a moment. He could feel the man's hesitation as he saw the photo, before he took the laptop and set it down.

"I... I have..."

"We don't know for certain," he said, turning Dick so they were facing one another. "We need to get more information. DNA, school records, birth certificates. But, if it turns out he is, how do you want to handle it?"

How did he want to handle it? He might have a son that he'd never gotten to even meet. That he was planning to go meet in the next few days. He had no idea how he wanted to handle it.

"We should finish deciding how we will be getting Mar'i home first," Kori said, slipping her hand into his own and giving it a squeeze.

"Yeah. The kid, Dan... He called Mar'i Aunty, and Danny didn't correct him. Which means they either strongly suspect a relation, or they know for certain. If I had to guess, that's why they want to talk.

"Don't think that just because Fenton may have some kind of blood relation to you that he can be brought into the fold immediately, Richard," Damian said. "I am more than capable of besting him should he try to take the mantle of Robin."

"I'm not going to tell him, Dami," he reassured his youngest brother. "Besides, I doubt he'd want to get wrapped up with our nightlife. He's clearly got his own normal life, I don't want to take that away from him."

~~~

Danny was going to kill Tucker. Since when had Danny ever been in any clubs? Now he'd have to come up with clubs to talk about if his maybe bio-dad asked about them. Sure, it'd be a little difficult since both of his partners were as liminal as Jazz, if not more by now, but he'd find a way.

After he contacted the Observants and made sure his usual band of rogues and friends left him alone for a week. Just in case his maybe dad (he had to come up with a better title) couldn't make it tomorrow or the day after.

Ancients, this was going to be such a hassle.

He'd probably meet outside of city limits anyway, just for an extra layer of security. If any ghosts decided to attack against his orders while his... while Dick was here, he wanted him as far away from the fight as possible. No point endangering him and Mar'i any more than necessary. Plus, they weren't Amity natives, ghosts wouldn't probably freak him and Mar'i out, not to mention Dick's wife.

Who was, apparently, an alien.

He hadn't thought about that really until just now. He could already feel the questions starting to bubble up, but he pushed the curiosity down. Schedule a week of with the Observants first, meet Dick second, ask the cool alien lady every question in the universe third.

"I'm going to go talk to the Council," Danny said, tossing the phone back to Tuck. "Am I okay to leave the kids here for a while?"

"Of course. You know they listen to us more than you anyway," Sam said, walking over to give him a quick goodbye hug.

"Yeah, and I'm eternally jealous. But at least they listen to someone," he said, walking over and kissing Tucker bye before walking into the kitchen and opening a portal to the Infinite Realms.

Every time he did that, he found himself grateful that Wulf had taught him how to get back and forth without the Fenton Portal. He'd destroyed midway through his sophomore year, and they'd been trying to rebuild it ever since.

He shuddered as he thought about it, shifting into his ghost form and feeling gravity revoke its hold on him before slipping through the portal. They'd called him earlier to ask if he'd seen where they left the blueprints they'd made from memory.

He did remember, he wasn't as stupid as his report card made him look. Which was why he wasn't stupid enough not to burn the blueprints when he'd found them.

~~~

He only barely got back in time to call Dick back. He hadn't gotten a week off, like he'd hoped. But they agreed to at least restrict access to the living world for a couple days. Not ideal, but at least it was better than nothing.

"How'd it go?" Tucker asked from the kitchen. He was setting out three plates of tacos for the kids, his own and Sam's sitting near the stove.

"Not ideal. But I got the eyeballs to at least lower the chances of any attacks for a few days, so at least it's not a sharp stick in the eye."

"Ouch, only reduced? Did you bring up her being... you know," his boyfriend said, stepping over to give him a hug. Danny felt like he could melt into his arms. It was unfair how good Tuck's hugs were when he was stressed.

"Yeah. That was why they decided to restrict everything. I probably should have talked to Clockwork first, gotten some advice, but you know how time works with him. I might've come back yesterday or two weeks from now."

"I hear ya. Come on, there's time for you to enjoy a taco before we call your maybe-bio-dad back. Sam's getting the kids together, so they'll be distracted during the call."

"Thanks, Tuck. You two are the best."

"Of course we are. Now, food. You know Sam won't let you get away with not taking care of yourself."

The taco was great, and Danny had vacuumed up half of it by the time the kids flew downstairs, chattering away between the three of them as they came to the kitchen table. Dan and Ellie were in their ghost forms as they sat, and Danny had to remind them that ghost powers weren't allowed at the table to get them to return to their human forms.

The dinner was uneventful, thankfully. Dan and Ellie had been busy showing Mar'i around the house, eventually turning it into a game of hide and seek tag. Ellie had gotten into a small fight with Dan when he'd used invisibility to cheat, but nothing to large thankfully. Mar'i, thankfully, seemed to be settling in well, and the other two weren't calling her Aunty, so small mercies.

"Alright. I'm gonna go call Ri-ri's dad back. Dan, Ellie, once dinner's done get ready for bed. See if you can find anything that would fit Mar'i to sleep in."

Danny stepped into the backyard, going ghost just long enough to fly up to the roof before changing back and dialing Dick's number.

"Hello, Dick Grayson-Wayne speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hey, it's Danny."

"Oh! Hi, Danny. Um... I guess the first thing to ask is if you managed to get out of your clubs?"

"Mostly, yeah. I might get called away last minute, but hopefully that won't be happening. School's a little harder."

"Yeah, I get that. I managed to get the next two days off, so Kori and i can be there by tomorrow. I assume after school works better for you?"

"Please. Mr. Lancer's going to have my head if I miss another class this week." Shulker had decided to attack right in the middle of English. It had been halfway across the city, though, so Danny'd had to make an hour long bathroom trip. lancer had been... less than impressed with him.

"You're missing class?" Shit.

"It's not important. I just... um... We should meet outside the city!" Danny prayed Dick would just drop the skipping school angle.

"... I was going to suggest the same thing. I'd rather not risk running into paparazzi. We've managed to keep them away from Mar'i so far, and I'd like to continue that if at all possible." Thank the Ancients.

"Yeah, totally. I get that. Is your wife coming with?"

"Yes. I figured she can take Mar'i and then we can talk like you wanted to." Danny sat, leaning against one of the chimney's on the house and looking up. It was a clear night, and even if the sun hadn't set all the way yet he could see the stars.

"That sounds good. There's a small mom and pop shop right outside the city. It's got indoor and outdoor seating, whichever you prefer. I know I'd rather keep the conversation private, for both our sakes, so if we could sit there there's fewer people that would be appreciated."

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow. Before you go, though, could I talk to Mar'i?"

"Yeah. It might take a minute to get down- to get the kids downstairs. They tend to be a bit hard to wrangle, especially when they have a friend over. I'll put you on hold."

Danny didn't wait for a response before hitting the hold button, going ghost to float to the ground before becoming human again. He strode inside, taking a deep breath before shouting for Mar'i, only to be met with three small voices, plus Sam's, yelling at him for yelling inside.

Shortly after, a stampede of two sets of feet came barreling down the stairs towards him. Mar'i was still flying, but Danny could tell that the bandages under her robot pajamas were fresh. hopefully, she would be able to walk with only minimal discomfort tomorrow.

"Woah, woah!" he said, holding the phone up. he felt the haptics that told him he'd hit a button on accident, he just had to hope that it wasn't the button to hang up.

"Dan, Ellie, it's bedtime for you two. Did you remember to brush your teeth?"

"Yes, Daddy," Ellie said, "but we wanna say hi to Au- to Ri-ri's mommy and daddy too!"

"How did you know that's- doesn't matter. It's bedtime."

"Aw, pleeeaaaassse, Daddy?" Dan said, teaming up with Ellie to give him puppy eyes.

"No. You heard your dad, it's bedtime."

"But Mama," Ellie whined, only to be met with Sam's hard stare.

"Bedtime. Mar'i Will be going to bed after she getes to talk with her parents, and I'll send Papa and Daddy up with her to tuck you in. Now, move your butts upstairs."

Dan and Ellie sulked their way upstairs, followed by Sam. She'd be back down in a few minutes after reading the four and six year olds a story and tucking them in. Which meant Mar'i would have some privacy to talk with her parents.

"Here you go Ri-ri," he said, double checking that he hadn't accidentally hung up. He hadn't, but Dick was very definitely not on hold like Danny remembered. Well, it wasn't like they'd said anything about ghosts, so it was fine.

"Stay in the living room, and then bring the phone back to me when you're done. I'm going to be in the kitchen." Mar'i was quick to snatch the phone from his hand, flying over to sit on the couch.

"Hi daddy!" he heard her say as he stepped into the kitchen to make another taco. Say what you would about Tuck, he could make a mean taco, even if they were vegetarian for Sam.

He intentionally tuned out Mar'i's voice. She, like Dan and Ellie, didn't have the best grip on volume control, especially on the phone. The conversation had nothing to do with him, so he instead busied himself looking up what he remembered from early.

Tamaranian was fairly easy, since Ri-ri had already mentioned they were a kind of alien. He found a few things about their home planet of Tamaran, power sets, and the like. Nothing struck him as too alarming or dangerous.

Which left the Joker. A quick search brought up two dozen articles, all from news sites located in Gotham. From what he could gather, the guy was a grade A wackjob. He'd killed dozens, caused significant damage to the city he lived in. He seemed to enjoy playing with lives like some kind of game.

The only reason he hadn't done more damage and hurt more people was because of someone called Batman, apparently a vigilante local to the city. Some research into him showed that he'd started as a solo hero, but had built a team that people called "The Birds" over the years. He also was apparently a part of a group called the Justice League.

He was about to do some digging into them when Mar'i ran in with the phone.

"Here you go, Mr. Danny! I'm going to go to bed now. See you tomorrow!"

"Night, Mar'i," he called after the girl rushing upstairs. he brought the phone back to his ear.

"So, I guess We'll talk tomorrow?"

"You're in high school, right?"

"Um... yeah?" Dick was quiet for a minute, enough that Danny wondered if he'd hung up.

"Ri-ri was telling me about your kids. I take it they're Miss Manson's?"

"W-what?!" he sputtered. "What makes you think that?"

"I'm a detective, Danny," Dick said. it sounded a lot like Jazz when she was explaining why it was important for him to get enough sleep. "It wasn't hard to find out that you two and Mr. Foley are involved together."

"Well, yeah, but we're not- they aren't- look, it's a long story that involves a fruitloop who was obsessed with me being his son, and I'd rather not try and explain over the phone."

"Right. Sorry, just... Sorry. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Talk to you then. Night."

"Night, Danny."

Danny hung up, staring down at the phone. He'd have to see if Sam or Tucker could pick up the kids tomorrow. Oh god, how was he going to take care of Mar'i tomorrow? Well, the daycare attendant had said a while ago that she'd owe Phantom a favor for saving the daycare. Maybe he could show up early as Phantom and ask that she take care of an extra kid?

He groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. The phone smacked uncomfortably against his forehead, but he paid it no mind. He already agreed to help his parents look for those blueprints, which meant he was going to have to spend the night at home, which meant he wasn't going to sleep, which meant-

He shook himself out of his spiral. One step at a time, that's what Jazz always said. One step. Right now, the next step was to tuck in his kids and kid sister.

Right. That was a task he could manage.

Hmmm

I'm on a Danny is Dick's child kick rn so I'm making more.

But lets add in some Ghost King Danny!, Dad to a deaged Ellie and Dan! And toddler Mar'i Grayson.

Danny was conceived during Dick's amnesia year when he was Ric and the woman couldn't find him to tell him (or maybe the Owls caught wind of the pregnancy and took her) and he ended up somehow (hmmm maybe a meddling time keeper?) with the Fentons.

Danny grows as a Fenton, he knows he was adopted btw, then becomes Phantom, protects Amity, becomes the Ghost King and things seem to be going okay between Amity Parkers and the Infinite Realms since they took care of the GIW problem, AND has been a good doting teen dad to his deaged 'cousins/clones' turned kids.

Danny was going to go pick his kids up from daycare one day when CHAOS happens. Just as he wrangles Ellie onto his shoulders, cause she wants to be tall today, and about to take Dan's hand cause he's and I quote "A big boy and not a baby like Ellie, Dad!" he suddenly feels the tug of his family being in danger.

Thing is, its a blood related danger. Meaning someone blood related to him was in grave danger, and by the emotions he can feel, its someone young, way younger than him.

Problem.

The only people Danny knows with his blood in their veins and are young enough for the feeling are with him.

So who?

But due to Danny being a protector spirit AND knowing the feeling is from someone as young as his own kids, Danny decides to use his Ghost King Powers to summon said person from the danger to him.

Danny opens his free arms out just as a tiny toddler with black hair like his own but with bright green eyes, even the sclera were green, in a ruined party dress drops from the sky from the summoning circle that had opened above him.

Danny stares at the terrified child, whose hands are tied by rope and was crying, and takes notes of certain traits she had that he saw every time in the mirror or on his own kids, same eye shape and cheekbones. He can tell his ghost core has claimed her as family but not as his kid though.

No the connection that formed was almost like his connection with Jazz but a bit stronger.

This kid, was his sister. His blood related one.

-Meanwhile-

Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing, and his family were freaking the fuck out.

Dick was already panicked when his daughter Mar'i had gotten kidnapped just a few hours ago by the Joker.

Now he was feeling pure dread when his daughter, who was about to be killed, was suddenly pulled into a strange glowing circle at the last minute and disappeared into thin air.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Comfort with Sylus

Content: SFW stuff + boyfriend! Sylus + Vulnerable! Reader + Non proof-reading

Note: I just kind of love the option of the tete a tete cause he's just so sweet. I chose not to add an actual topic so thesfw reader was able to feel the liberty of imagining them telling him everything, I hope it was the correct choice!

You opened the door to your house, the sound of your keys left in the small table at the entrance. Today had been a rough day, moving from one side to another without even having a break to eat something. Not only that, but the ambience in your work was quite tense, with the holidays just ending, most of them were still getting prepared, with your boss constantly checking everyone's work and complaining about the most minimal thing, making everyone feel too uncomfortable to even rest for a bit. Just as you let yourself fall on top of your mattress, your phone started to vibrate, with your face still planted against the cushions, you lazily picked up the call, not even bothering to check who was calling.

"Guess who?"

"...Hello?" Your voice clearly denoted your current mood, as the voice on the other side quickly softened.

"It seems my kitten is exhausted, let me guess, a rough day in your work?" You answered with a deep sigh, the velvety voice on the other side making you relax, almost enough to get you to fall asleep. "I can't just ignore the weariness on you, give me a few minutes. I will send Mephisto while I get ready." Without allowing you to say anything else, the call ended.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, you heard a small knock in your window, too lazy to move, you stayed there, your whole body still limp as you soon stopped hearing the knock in your glass. Sligthly confused, you were about to lift your face, when suddenly two strong arms lifted you up, the warmth of his arms making you feel even more cozy making you nuzzle against his chest as an attempt to keep him from moving away. "Oh? This is something quite rare, my kitten with her guard completely down." Before you could even think of a come-back, Sylus' hand started to pet your head with a slow and caring emotion, almost as if he was afraid of breaking you. "No need to answer, let me take care of everything." With that said, Sylus started to walk towards your bathroom, using only one of his hands to put the plug of the bathtub, then opening the faucet, to finally choose the bath products you always used, his arm firmly keeping you lifted as he did all of this. Sylus then let you sit on top of the bathroom sink, his hands slowly undoing your buttons, then moving to your lower half, carefully folding them on top of your basket of dirty laundry. His arms once again wrapped around your waist, your body slowly entering into the warm water allowing the tension in your body to loosen up bit by bit as Sylus allowed you to lay inside the tub. "Much better now, let me shampoo your hair." Sylus took the bottle of shampoo, opening it and taking a few drops, his fingers starting to massage your scalp as he hummed a song only the two of you knew. After he ended, he took the small bottle of conditioner, starting to spread it only on the tips of your hair. As he let the two of them act, he took the sponge, rubbing it all over your body with extreme care, sometimes leaving soft kisses all over your body as he kept cleaning it.

"Sylus, you don't have to--" Sylus stopped you mid-sentence, one of his hands caressing your hair as he hushed you down.

"It's alright, kitten. Everyone needs to be taken care of from time to time, just let me do it for you, yeah?" His honeyed voice got you to relax once again, allowing him to keep scrubbing your body clean, finally getting you out of the shower after he made sure to get rid of all the shampoo and conditioner, rinsing the water before he wrapped your body around the already warmed bathrobe. As soon as he got you all ready, he got you to sit once again on the small stool, checking to get your hair all nice and dry before he took you once again in his arms, carrying you back to your bed, not letting you down until he made sure to let you all cuddled in bed. After kissing your forehead, he moved away for a few minutes, searching around your wardrobe for some clothes he had left the last time he had slept there. As soon as he changed clothes he quickly entered the bed, hugging you completely in his homely embrace, his comforting scent causing your eyes to swell up. "Now, would you like to talk about what is bothering you?" You clenched one of your hands around the fabric of his clothes, a knot forming in your throat as you tried to get the words out of my mouth.

"I... I just-- I don't know, it's everything I guess?" Sylus hands kept stroking your back, not saying a word until you had gotten everything out of your chest.

So you finally did, you started to cry in his arms as he kept moving his hands up and down your back as a way to comfort you as you began to speak about everything that was bothering you, from the small things like not getting the sweet little treat you wanted to much bigger topics, with Sylus constantly reassuring you each time you started to doubt telling him some stuff, after all, maybe it was you just being dramatic. But he stood there, surrounding you with his embrace and allowing you to be as vulnerable as you wanted. After all, you were lying in the arms of the most dangerous man in Linkon city, not only that, but a man that would give up everything he ever got just to get you to smile once more.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Sergei Kravinoff x mutant fem!reader

Summary: Sergei is captured and his only source of salvation and light is the young woman who visits him every day to bring him food and heal his wounds.

Genre: hurt and comfort <3

Warnings: reader has healing abilities, kidnapping, torture, blood, violence, drugging, shitty men, protective!Sergei

~ thank you 💜anon for this idea! i didn't make it smut but i hope you like it anyways ~

SERGEI KRAVINOFF MASTERLIST

The Hunter. They'd captured The Hunter by. 

That was all you knew from the hushed whispers as they guarded your door. His name caused excitement around the compound and your curiosity was piqued. You stand from your small cot, limping over as the blood from your leg spills from the bandages. You press your palm against your door, catching snippets of the conversation in Russian, as you hold your breath. 

When you hear the latch to your door snap, you stumble back. The man with the scar enters, a smirk on his face. "Ah, you're up. Good. We have a new guest. You know what to do," he walks over and caresses your cheek, causing you to flinch, and he glances down at your leg. "And don't let him get close to you, not like the last one. Understand, pet? Cleaning you up was a fuckin' mess."

You nod, earning you a light tap on your cheek as he gestures for his men to come in with a tray of food.

The Hunter's cell is grim and dark, the drip of water from the ceiling is heard in the corner. Your eyes widen when you see him. He's suspended from his arms, rusty chains digging into his skin. He's shirtless, scratches and gashes of various stages litter his back and shoulders. He's breathing deeply as you walk in. He turns his head a little, catching your eyes and he lets out a sharp laugh, spitting out more blood.

"Is this some kind of joke?" He coughs up more blood, seeing the food on the tray. You circle to the front, resting the tray on the ground as you look up at him again. "They send you in to do the dirty work, принцесса (princess)?" 

You don't answer him, instead glancing at the security of the chains holding him. They're strong. Unbreakable you would guess and you look into his eyes again. You tear some of the bread and stand up, walking closer. Unlike many other prisoners, this one doesn't immediately lunge for you. He seems to be keeping his strength, simply observing your movements. You hold out the bread for him to bite out of your hand, but he spits blood at your shoes instead. 

"I don't need your food," he growls and tugs on the chains, turning his torso as he hisses in pain. You see a large gash on his side and your expression softens. You're here to heal him, at least so he doesn't die until he gives them the information they want.   

"I can help," you whisper, walking forward and reaching your hand to touch his side. The man inhales, readying himself to push you down—to do anything. He doesn't trust you. However, that plan falls through when he sees a glimpse of the bruising on your cheek. Someone has already hit you. He falters and then he gasps when your cold hand presses against the wound. 

"Shh," you soothe, bracing yourself, "this will only hurt for a moment. I promise."

"What are you—"

He grunts, feeling something sting and turns his head as best he can, twisting his torso. You pull your hand away, revealing the mostly healed wound. It's still badly bruised and you explain; "I can't heal the bruising. I c-can only help the process."

You sound scared of him and he looks back over to you, eyes dark. You just healed him. He looks at your hand and he sees that they're shaking. His eyebrows scrunch as he examines you. You're breathing heavily, looking exhausted. 

It drained you. 

Suddenly, there is a loud bang on the door, and a man's voice booms into the room and orders you back out in Russian. You catch your breath, holding out the bread for the man to take. You still want him to eat at least a little. Once he reluctantly eats the bread from your hand, you grab the tray and hurry out the door. 

The man hears the shout and he grimaces, pulling on his chains again. The wound doesn't hurt as much and his head is reeling from what had just happened. 

Who were you?

* * *

The next time Sergei sees you, he's chained to the wall, blood trickling down the side of his head. He hears the door enter and he smells you instantly. You smell sweet, not like the men who come in who stink of death and sweat. He turns his head, cracking a smile, as blood drips from his mouth. You set the tray down, kneeling in front of him on the dirty ground. Sergei's smile drops when he sees more bruising around your cheeks. They're hurting you too. His blood boils and he tries to fight against the chains once more, his body weak. 

He watches you silently as you take a syringe from the tray. Your hand is trembling and you look up at him. He knows what the liquid is, usually the men administer it when they torture him. It weakens him, making it impossible for him to break the chains that hold him in place. He growls like a hurt animal and you rest your hand on his arm. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, testing the syringe as the green liquid pours out and drips onto the ground. "They think you'll put up less of a fight if it's me—" 

Sergei narrows his eyes, the gold irises flickering underneath the surface, and he snarls; "Don't do this," he says but you gently push his head to the side, your hand on his forehead as you sink the needle into his neck. He grunts. No wonder the men are asking you to do this; it's dangerous for you. He could easily turn his head and bite you in this position. Usually, they prick him in the leg or somewhere safe that still works, but not as well as it could. They're becoming impatient it seems and they're now willing to turn you into a pawn. Perhaps, that's the reason he doesn't hurt you. He knows what that's like.

"I'm really sorry," you sob, holding his head as your hand trembles even more. Once the liquid is gone, you pull away. He looks calmer now, the drug already working. You drop the syringe and break some more bread. "Please eat," you whisper, pressing the stale bread to his lips, as if trying to counteract the drug by feeding him.    

He opens his eyes, reluctantly listening to you as he eats a bite. "They're hurting you too," he says and you shift uncomfortably, avoiding his intense glare. "Why? And why can't you heal yourself?" He'd noticed your limp the moment you walked and smelled the blood from your knee, even underneath your pants. You're injured. 

You sit back, touching the bruising along your eye, and look up at him. "You aren't the only prisoner they give that horrid liquid to," you whisper, looking at the syringe and then tilting your head and showing him the needle mark on your neck. "They like m-my ability, but only in moderation—"

Sergei groans, his chest burning with anger. He shakes his head when he sees you begin to clean up. "Who? Who are they?! Who has me!? I can help you—if you—wait—stop—" he watches you walk out helplessly. He groans again from the pain in his side as he shifts his position. Sergei realizes you haven't healed him today. He supposes that would go against the point of the fucking drug. 

Hours later, when he finally falls asleep, all he dreams of is you. 

* * *

"What is your name?" Sergei asks one evening as you run a warm cloth on his face, wiping away the dried blood from the beating he'd received. He hasn't cracked yet, not that he will. You startle a little, not expecting him to ask you that question. You glance up, meeting his gaze, and you whisper your name. 

"Kraven," he introduces. He wants to tell you his real name, but he doesn't know if he can fully trust you. Sergei winces when you swipe your hand across a cut on his cheek, healing the small wound. He pulls against the chains keeping his arms up. He groans, realizing it's useless. "How long have you been here, Y/n?"

You move to rub the cloth on his bare torso, going even quieter. "A year."

"Do you have a family?"

You shrug, turning away and preparing that damned drug again. The men have given up administering it and have charged you with that task instead. Sergei grimaces and when you look up, your hand gently turning his head like it always does, he doesn't fight you. Instead, he whispers, "Y/n, don't give it to me. I can get us both out of here. I won't hurt you. I promise." He's not entirely sure how long he's been here but he's desperate now. He locks eyes with you, almost pleasing. 

You wrap your arm around his nape, shifting and your voice shakes when you whisper, "They're watching. There is a camera— it can't hear us but it can see us." 

Sergei winces, feeling you prepare the syringe; however, he pauses when he looks to the side and sees that the needle is near the bare skin of your arm, the one covering his nape. "They make sure it's g-gone, this is the only way. Will your powers regenerate in one night?"

Sergei nods, his blue eyes are wide and he's a little alarmed when you administer the drug to yourself.

"They're watching us. Please, you have to pretend I gave it to you if you want this to work." 

"Will the drug hurt you?" he asks, knowing you're purposefully hiding what you're doing to the camera in the corner of the ceiling. 

You shake your head, pulling away and hiding the mark on your arm with your sleeve. "No– I just won't be able to use my powers for a while. It's okay. That's all it does. That's what it's been doing to you—weakening you." You gather your supplies with shaking hands as Sergei breathes heavily, keeping his body calm as you said. 

"I won't let them hurt you again," Sergei promises before you leave. You turn around to look at him, your eyes sad, as he whispers, "I'll find you, принцесса (princess)."

* * * 

"Wake up, Hunter." Sergei hears a loud bang as a metal pipe slams against the wall near his head. His eyes shoot open, his body not feeling as weak anymore and his gaze locks onto the two men who've been torturing him these past days. His eyes narrow and his hand twitches in the chains but his heart leaps when one of the men, the one with the scar on his lip, pulls you from behind the other man, his hand in your hair. "We have some exciting news," the man sings-songs and adds, "since ya seem so fond of each other."

Sergei's eyes frantically bounce from your scared expression to the men holding you, his jaw clenching. 

"Since you don't quite break when we break you, we must change our method, you understand," the other man laughs, unsheathing a knife and running it in your hair. You squeeze your eyes shut, controlling your breathing. "Now, if you continue not to give us anything, we'll just have to break your little girlfriend instead. And," the man laughs, "we promise with the damage we'll cause she won't have time to heal herself—"

Sergei's eyes narrow. The men are too busy laughing at the tears that fall from your eyes to notice the glimmer of gold behind his irises—but you do. You hold your breath, unsure what's about to happen but you know it can't be good considering that the drug you'd been giving him for the past week had faded so quickly. Sergei licks his lips, his sharp fangs showing for a second before he lunges for the men, the chains previously holding him easily ripping. 

You gasp, falling to the ground as you grasp the floor, scooting to the opposite side of the room, pressing your back to the wall as you watch as Kraven tears into one of the men's throats, growling like an animal would. You scream, covering your eyes with shaky hands as gunshots ring out and you hear more growls and ripping.  

Once the scream stops, you feel someone's presence over you. You peek through your fingers, your gaze stuck on the splatter of blood across his features. His eyes have returned to their normal blue and he crouches down, like an animal showing its submission as his knuckles skim your cheeks and wipe away your tears.

"Are you okay?" He mutters, his voice hoarse. You nod hesitantly and when he scoops his hand under your knees and your back, you accept and wrap your arms around his neck. 

"I'm here," he whispers. 

Your hands tremble and you nod, finding your voice as you squeeze your eyes shut again so you don't see the lifeless bodies he'd left in his wake as he walks to the exit. However, you can't bring yourself to feel pity; those men had tortured him. And they'd tortured you for even longer. "Thank you, Kraven," you say quietly and he holds you tighter. 

"Sergei," he says, "My name is Sergei."

You hum, resting your eyes as your head falls onto his chest. When you open your eyes again, you're in a truck. Sergei is on the phone, talking in Russian, and you understand snippets of his conversation. You're buckled in, your head resting on the passenger window as the headlights from the other cars blind you. You groan, your head is pounding. "You slept for hours, is that normal,  принцесса (princess)?" Sergei asks, putting his phone in his pocket as he continues to drive. 

"Where are we?"

"Russia," Sergei says and he looks at you with a worried expression, "We've always been in Russia—did you not know where they were holding you?" You shake your head, a little embarrassed. You really didn't know. Sergei clicks his tongue and runs a hand over his face. He's cleaned himself up, the blood is gone and he looks in much better form. He senses you staring and he looks over, "I made some calls. My brother—he has connections," he tells you, explaining the truck. 

"Where are you taking me?" you ask quietly. 

Sergei's eyes narrow. "My home," he pauses, "just so you can rest, I'm not sure how long that drug will last on you, but once you're better, I can take you home."

"Home," you whisper and look down at your lap, picking at your nails. "I have no home."

Sergei is quiet as he looks at the road again. "Well, you can stay with me then. I'll take care of you." 

Silence looms over you as the truck rolls along icy roads, the hum of the engine filling the air. You glance at Sergei again, your gaze softening. He looks different now—calmer, more composed, less weak and frazzled. His knuckles are no longer bloodied, his breaths even now, and yet, there is something simmering underneath, like a fire that hasn't quite burned out.

"You really don't have to do that," you tell him, staring out the window. "You have already done enough."

He just chuckles, low and rough. "Enough? I went through hell, принцесса (princess), I'm not stopping now." He glances at you, his eyes sharp as they lock onto yours and his voice almost wavers when he says. "You saved me first. I owe you."

You press your lips together, unsure how to respond. He sounds so serious, as if nothing you say would sway him. You decide not to speak. Your body is heavy with exhaustion, the aftermath of the drug still dulling your senses. You sigh and shut your eyes, leaning your head against the window again as the lights from outside lull you asleep.

Once the truck finally stops, you wake to the sound of Sergei opening your door. Snow crunches under his boots as he reaches in and effortlessly lifts you into his arms again, ignoring your half-hearted protests. 

"Stop fussing, will you," he mutters, his voice softer now. "You're still weak."

The large house he carries you into is cool, the scent of pine and something faintly sweet greeting you. It's a small but comfortable cabin, filled with old family trinkets and photos of a family of four; two young boys sitting on their mother's knee.

Sergei wordlessly sets you down on a couch, draping a blanket over your shoulders before crouching and starting a well-needed fire. Once the flames crackle, he turns and his hands hover over your knees, uncertain, as if he's not surewhere to begin. 

Finally, he lifts his arms and brushes some hair back from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Rest," he commands. His tone is calm and serious but the corners of his mouth twitch upward as if he's hiding a small smile. "I will make us food."

You still don't say a word as you watch him retreat to the kitchen, the tension in your chest easing for the first time in a long while. The danger is gone, replaced with a warmth you haven't felt. You glance around the room and you realize that for the first time in a long long time, you feel completely safe.

You smile softly, watching the fire burn and listening to Sergei walk around the kitchen. 

[jellymochii]

Stray Kids - What Kind of Dominant are They? (Headcanons)

❣ pairings: ot8 skz x fem!reader

❣ genre: smut, fluff

❣ wc: 2.3k

❣ cw: HEAVYYYY SMUT, bondage, bdsm, pet play, dom/sub relationship, sensory deprivation, overstimulation, unprotected sex (please don't), cnc

↪author's note: hello! got in the mood to make some skz hcs. i might do sub!skz next OR dom!txt hehe. hope you enjoy!

**THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT REFLECT THE TRUE NATURE OF THE PEOPLE MENTIONED**

❣ Chan - Daddy Dom

Pretty much a classic right here, we all knew this was coming.

Is so doting and loving on you!! He loves taking care of you and spoiling you in every way possible.

You're feeling icky from period cramps? He'll get you sweet treats and massage your worries away. Bad day at work? He's right there holding your face gently and peppering you with kisses.

Loves making you feel good in any way possible. He'll make sure to make you cum at least once before fucking you, and always fucks you slow and deep–just how you like it!

You misbehave though? Yeah, you're in for it.

Will never stop telling you how good you make him feel. Lots of praises like “My sweet girl, always so tight and warm.” Or “Ffffuuuuck you make daddy feel so good, princess.”

Pulls you over his lap and hikes up your skirt, and then spanks you as many times as he sees fit. Lost count? Oops, guess he's restarting from one.

At that point there's tears in your eyes from the sting of your swollen red asscheeks as you're begging him for mercy, telling him you're sorry.

If you really misbehaved he'll pretend like he forgives you and finger your cunt–only to deny you sweet release.

“I thought I told you already, bad sluts don't get to cum, sweetheart~”

If you've been extra mouthy he'll shut you up quickly by grabbing handfuls of your hair and shoving his cock down your throat.

Don't worry, his aftercare is always immaculate, regardless of how good you were that night. Warm baths and sweet words for his baby!

❣ Lee Know - Brat Tamer

Everyone act surprised. We all know the man loves a challenge.

And you, his little bratty baby? Buckle up, you're in for a long night.

Has all kinds of toys to punish you with–cuffs, ropes, whips, etc.

Definitely handcuffs your wrists and ankles to the bed while spanking you repeatedly. You shouldn't have been a brat, now should you?

Whispers absolute filth into your ear, and you secretly love every part of it. Things like “Fucking slut, this was supposed to be a punishment–and look at you, you're dripping.” And “Aww are you crying? Poor girl, I couldn't give less of a shit, huh?”

Definitely not as nice as Chan when it comes to spanking you. At least Chan has the mercy to restart, but Minho? Yep, that's an extra 20.

If he's in a really bad mood, he'll tie you up and shove a remote controlled vibrator up your already leaking pussy and have you at his mercy as he controls every pulse to come out of it. (You're not cumming any time soon.)

May also just deny you entirely and watch you helplessly whine and cry as he jacks himself off in front of you, not giving you a single taste of his sweet juices.

Listen, he's not a complete monster though. Once everything is said and done, he'll still give you the best aftercare.

It's all a game to him. He looooves when you're extra bratty, or when you try and fight back–it turns him on even more, knowing he'll break you down entirely into submission until you're a babbling mess.

Cleans you up nicely with a warm washcloth and makes sure you pee and drink lots of water. He'll also make sure you have a nice warm meal filled with lots of protein to get your energy back.

You're still his baby at the end of the day. Just a very, very bratty one.

❣ Changbin - Pleasure Dom

Oh my sweet Binnie…he's so whipped for you.

He's at your every beck and call, and makes you feel so loved and protected–even in the sheets.

He knows how ridiculously strong he is compared to you, and how you look oh so little caged under his large and muscular body. (He loves it.)

But he's still gentle! He knows he could break you if he wanted to, which is why he treats you like a porcelain doll in bed, and gives you everything you want in more.

But man, you really drive him crazy, y'know?

He can't help it how good you make him feel, your pussy sucking his girthy length in and your walls fluttering around him. Sometimes it's all too much for him.

Takes a LOT of mental and physical strength to not pound into you like a starved wild animal, but sometimes he just can't stop himself, your pussy is just too good.

And so trust, you will get pounded into a brutal pace, but he's gonna make you see stars with how good you feel.

You can tell he's close by how his normal grunts and huffs turn into high pitched whines and moans, his muscles start quivering from all the sensations filling up his system.

Whispers things like “Aigoo, baby, I'm sorry. I-I can't help it, it's too good~!” And “Shhh I know, baby, just let daddy use you for a little.”

Huge load. That's all I gotta say, your poor cunt is leaking from the generous load of his love he's bred into you.

Aftercare king. The best and warmest cuddles you could ever ask for.

He's so in love with you, please tell him what a good job he did and how much you love him!

❣ Hyunjin - Service Dom

A service Dom is typically someone who enjoys inflicting or giving any sort of stimulation to their sub for their own pleasure.

Lover boy Hyunjin is no exception. You're his muse, after all. He wants to explore every part of your body in any way he can.

He watches your scrunched up face while biting his lip as his fingers dig into that sweet spot you love, the other hand fondling your breasts or pinching your nipple as he watches attentively for any sign of pleasure.

Definitely into sensory deprivation. He loves having you blindfolded, handcuffed, and even likes having cute earmuffs on you so you can only feel him using your sense of touch.

Ice cubes, paintbrushes, anything non-conventional that stimulated your nerves in any way. The way you twitch ever so slightly with just a light touch to your clit gets his cock soooo hard.

May also take photos of you while you're in different positions (with your consent, of course) to have for later to either jerk off with or paint and save to his private collection.

If he's eating you out, he's got his plump lips sucking on your clit while his fingers twist in every direction of your sloppy pussy, all while humping the bed from how insanely turned on he is.

When you actually have sex, his hands are all over you. Even if he's sweating buckets and shaking from overstimulation, he's gonna make you cum as many times as he wants. He has to, in his mind.

The way your face contorts from pleasure and how your walls flutter around his cock is enough to make him cum, but he always restrains himself.

Uses his dick so skillfully. He knows your pussy inside and out, and thrusts himself into you mercilessly. Yeah, you're having multiple orgasms tonight.

“Nnngh, jagi–you're so beautiful, I could hah- stay like this forever.” Or “C'mon honey, just one more, for me?”

Major cuddlebug afterwards. He'll clean you up eventually, but for now he just wants to hold you and bask in your presence and tell you how much he adores you.

❣ Han - Dom Tendencies

I don't think Han is any kind of traditional Dom, I more so assume that he has Tendencies that match up with your typical Dom from time to time.

Kinda cocky and more dominant at first when you two are fucking. Lots of “Yeah, you like that huh?”

As he gets closer though, his brain becomes more and more mushy. He's so drunk off your pussy that his head fogs up like he's in a trance.

All he can focus on at this rate if you, and how pretty you look with your nose all scrunched up underneath him.

Once you get close and start ng things like “Ha-Hannie please, I’m gonna cum~!” It's all over for him.

He's suddenly forgotten how to be dominant entirely and all he can think about is wanting to cum. You could basically say your pussy was so good that it made him go stupid.

This usually leads to him cumming before you, but if you cum before him? Oh poor boy, he's gonna malfunction.

“Jagi–angh, please cum for me, I'll do anything!” He'll say desperately pounding into you at an irregular pace, looking for any sort of stimulation.

The feeling of your walls slurping him in and coating his cock with your cum makes his eyes roll in the back of his head. You swear you can see his tongue sticking out like an ahegao.

And yet in true Dom fashion, he plugs you full of his babies–making sure every last drop seeds inside your cervix.

“Fuckfuckfuck I'm cummi- agh~!”

You're both totally wiped after that. He'll still pepper your face in sweet kisses and tell you how good you were, a few giggled mixed in between.

❣ Felix - Versatile Dom

Felix is very flexible in terms of pleasing you.

You want a softer, more love making session? He'll be right there with rose petals and candles. On the other hand, if you're wanting him to absolutely destroy you–he sure can!

Even through his cocky Dom exterior, much like changbin he's petrified of hurting you or going too far. You're his sweet baby, after all!

He uses his rich and deep voice to groan sweet nothings into your ear, he knows it drives you crazy.

When you are looking for something more kinky, he'll bust out a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs and that vibrator wand you love so much–and use it to push you farther than you've ever gone before in terms of overstimulation.

“Yeah? You like when I touch your clit like that, baby?” Or “Ohhh look at you dripping, my nasty little slut.”

Seeing you so obedient and helpless underneath him may scare his brain, but his tip throbs at the sight.

He's very generous when it comes to making you cum. He won't deny or torture you, but he loves teasing you for how squirmy and pathetic you are bound up like that.

His generosity (and slight sadism) peeks through when he makes you cum more times than you can count. And best believe, he’ll be pulling more out of you!

Creampies–lots of them.

Aftercare is always a must for both of you–kisses, cuddles and brownies in that order.

Moral of the story--he’s anyone you want him to be!

❣ Seungmin - Pet Owner Dom

Everyone act surprised part 2

Lee Know's evil counterpart in terms of brat taming. You wanna misbehave? You're gonna get treated like the animal you are.

He’ll put you in your kennel and tie your vibrator to your sopping cunt, leaving you there for as long as he sees fit.

“Awww, you're such a pathetic little puppy.” Or “Bad puppies go into the kennel, you know this. Or are you too dumb to remember, hmm?”

You've got the whole set at this point–ears, matching lingerie, and a collar with his initials engraved in it so everyone knows who you belong to.

Maybe if he's feeling nice he'll let you desperately hump his thigh for any sort of friction while teasing you.

And trust, YOU. WILL. BE. BRED.

Calls your ovulation period your “heat”, and knows how much his sweet puppy needs his cum when she's oh so desperate!

Yep, doggy style. It's both of your favorites–your brain goes fuzzy from how deep his tip kisses your cervix, and he loves hearing his puppy's whines and cries when she's close or overstimulated.

Tugs you by your collar when he's close, his breath becomes erratic and his limbs shake.

By the end of your playtime, there's so much cum seeping out of your cunt (you'll probably get plugged so you're bred properly)

Tells you how much he loves you and what a good puppy you are for him after!

❣ I.N. - Primal Dom

Oh my sweet innie

He really wants to be gentle and loving, and be the sweetheart Dom in bed.

But he simply cannot control his animalistic urges when he's around you.

He's pounding into you at a merciless and brutal pace, all while strangled cries and guttural moans spill from his mouth

He can't help it! His urges are just telling him to :(

Prefers raw any day, let's hope you're on birth control anyway

You almost wonder where this ungodly stamina has come from, especially on days when he has a lot of pent up frustration from practice–you've never been drilled in at this fast and rough of a pace.

Not a lot of words when he's close, he's breathing heavily as filthy moans growl into your ear. Almost as if he were saying “You made me like this.”

Huuuuge breeding desire. He needs to fill you up and make sure you're swollen with his kin in 9 months.

There's something so feral about him when he cums. It's the sweet release he’s been needing, but he’s so addicted to the way your walls take all of his seed in–so much so that you're in for another few rounds just so he can feel it again.

Poor baby, he's so mortified once he snaps out of it and realizes he basically ruined you. He uses gentle warm washcloths like Chan taught him to tend gently to all of your bruises.

Tons of reassurance and apologies spilling from his mouth, but you wouldn't have it any other way since you know how much he loves you.

[universalzones]

"I am not calling his actions into question, I simply think he needs to 'tone it down' I believe is the correct phrase. As I said, I sense he is a kind soul. I have no doubt he shall do everything he can to help us. I only hope his abrasive side doesn't get us into more trouble." Blaze could say Rowan didn't seem the type to soften his opinions no matter who he was speaking to. The feline just didn't wish for him to cause some more problems.

"I, um, think he's just trying to make the best out of a tense situation. That's just my opinion though." Belle wasn't sure if she should even speak up as she didn't really have anything of importance to say, and everyone was already sure Rowan was simply doing the best he could. The tinkerer just didn't want things to get off topic, at least that's the reason she told herself. The puppet was perhaps a bit tired of hearing everyone talk about someone else when they weren't here.

"Regardless, everyone should be on the side of caution right now. The President may seem willing to hash things out, though that G.U.N commander is clearly ready to swarm and take anyone in." From what Kitsunami heard he found the commander a far bigger threat than President Thawne. The fennec would have to try and dig data on him later like Rowan suggested, though that could be dangerous as well.

===========================================================

Surge watched Charmy stupidly attempt to move a piece of the rubble which only hurt his shoulder. "...You don't know me so I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that to me." The tenrec's temper was far better since her memories got back so could now better handle not losing her temper when someone said something so stupid about her cybernetics as she knew if bee was aware of the full story he wouldn't find them so cool.

"Yes, now stop asking stupid questions and get out of here." Surge was trying to be soft with her words, or at least as soft as she can be given her personality. The tenrec didn't respond to his comment about her spikes, mainly because she was trying to focus, though also because she wasn't sure how to respond. Just like with that kid she ran into at the food stalls. The speedster would take a few deep breaths, her lightning flowing around her body. Then she became a current and began bouncing across all the metal inside the rubble. Hopefully she can find an opening and not get stuck.

Miles flipped his finger across his phone as his eyes lifted up, noticing Belle's look. He could guess what she was thinking, and he didn't much like talking about Rowan when he wasn't here either. He hoped mentioning who his family was would quell some worries about him. Honestly he never got any bad vibes from Rowan, and he was no worse then Sonic or himself preferring to work alone. In his opinion Rowan was a good guy trying to do the right thing but had his own idea of how to get that done.

" I think you should all give him more credit--- He could have cut and run at anytime. It would have been easy for him to grab Tangle, and peace out and let us rot... but he didn't, which is all the proof i need that he's a good guy... "

He took the device from Belle and posted up the profile into the business database. It was all set now, Belle was ready if the worst happened he could claim her as his companies property. Not that he liked thinking of it that way but GUN were bastards and it was the safest bet.

" Alright, well i didn't find much on our president... but doesn't seem a bad sort... but i think he's clearly a GUN plant. So i'd say we approach with some caution and tact... now as soon as lanolin returns, we should be ready... wonder whats taking her so long..."

===============================================

Charmys eyes shifted to the rubble, and he looked just annoyed by Surge pointing it out! He buzzed his wings loudly and hopped over to a rock and pulled, and tugged on it! growling and biting the rock like that would make a difference! but only served to hurt his shoulder as he winced and ended up plopping on his butt holding his shoulder. Seemed like maybe she was right, but he sure didn't like it!

" Hey! just cause i'm not some super cool cyborg doesn't mean i can't help..."

He pouted an glanced away from her as he tugged his arm in close to his body to rest it. But he sighed and looked up to Surge, wondering if he could even trust her.

" You'll find he though right? "

He asked looking up at Surge clearly still hurt, and worried about Jewel. He might be a dumb kid full of spite and angst but he was worried about her all the same. He slowly stood back up and closed his eyes and sighed in defeat.

" fine... i'm going..."

He buzzed up in the air and hovered a few feet away but looked back at surge one last time.

" I like the spikes... its very metal--- good luck on your mission! "

He said before he buzzed off to the infirmary, well least his wings were ok! he could never imagine losing his flight it was what made him who he was after all! he'd let everyone know about Jewel! worst case at least someone could dig her out right?

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Love Triangle from Hell (5)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Following the events of PART FOUR, you all begin to pick up the pieces and start to heal.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: kissing, messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing/name calling; arguments; crying; hurt/comfort; angst; miscommunication; jealousy; happy ending; fluff

A/N: We have made it to the final part of our story. I'm honestly sad to see it end- but it's not *really* over, is it? Again, everyone who has commented and reblogged- you are my muse. It was your kind words who kept me motivated. Thank you so much. You all are so amazing. Please, please, please don't hesitate to send me questions or requests- do you want to see more post-story drabbles, more angsty flashbacks, headcannons? Let me know and I will do my best to deliver. My inbox is open for requests.

Alternative ending coming soon!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Because Steve crashed at his parent’s house, he hadn’t been home to see that Eddie never came back last night. Instead, he woke up in his childhood bedroom after a night of tossing and turning. He wanted to call you- he picked up the phone and hung it up so many times last night. He knew you probably wouldn’t appreciate it, so he resolved to wait until morning. He hardly slept. 

With tear stained cheeks, Steve knew he needed to get up and shower. After he was dressed for the day, he sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the wall. He didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t want to go home yet. He couldn’t face Eddie. He was so embarrassed and ashamed. 

He needed to take a walk to clear his head. He ended up deciding to get coffee. There was a coffee place he walked to and after that, with 2 coffees and a bag of bagels in hand. He decided to stop by your apartment. You’d have coffee and bagels and talk this out. If you would let him, it would be his do over to make up for last night. 

He walked up to your apartment two steps at a time balancing the coffee tray carefully with both hands to not spill. He lets himself take a moment. He smooths out the front of his jacket. And tousled his hair to look a little more presentable. He hopes you don’t slam the door in his face when he knocks. He stands up straighter when he hears the door unlock.

You open the door, but not all the way. You poke your head out from behind the partially open door. You’re still in your pajamas. A very old t-shirt that Steve has seen you in a million times before and flannel pajama pants- you look your best like this, Steve thinks. His brows furrowed in confusion when you step out onto the porch with a sweatshirt and don’t invite him in. 

“I got you a coffee,” he offers, “a peace offering for last night.”

. I was being an asshole.” 

“Listen, Steve..,” you begin. You cross your arms over your chest and look down at your feet. “I don’t know how to say this… Now isn’t the right time…”

“I’m sorry, I just thought we could talk in person,” he explains, “I just wanted to- you know, apologize in person.” 

“I get it.”

“I- I just, look,” he says gathering his thoughts, “I didn’t handle any of this right- at all. I’m never going to be able to forgive myself for taking this long to realize my feelings, but…”

“Steve. Stop- listen,” you say anxiously, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “Before you go on, I need to tell you…”

“What is it?”

“Eddie stayed over last night.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Oh…”

“Steve-”

“He’s still here, isn’t he?” Steve finally catches on. You hang your head, unable to look him in the eye. He blinks back the threat of tears. “Okay, um,” he clears his throat. “I’ll, uh, get out of here.”

“Steve- wait…”

“No, no it’s okay, really,” he tries to insist, trying his best to not break his cool. “Uh, anyways- take the coffee and stuff, anyways… I gotta go anyway.” 

He’s down the stairs and down the block before you can stop him. You slip back inside. You leave the coffee and the paper bag on the table. You couldn’t touch them. You take a seat at the kitchen table, staring at them. Eddie was still asleep, easily slept through Steve’s knocking. It’s a few minutes of solitude, just lost in thought, before the front door opens with a whoosh. 

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Robin marvels, kicking off her shoes. She hangs up her jacket, she’s wearing her same clothes as yesterday. You offer her a knowing smile. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “You just missed Steve.”

“What does that mean?” she asked hesitantly. “Did you and Steve-”

“Nope,” you say, realizing now what that sounded like. You shake your head- you have so much to fill her in on. “Eddie’s here- and Steve showed up with coffee and bagel for me.” 

“Wait. Wait. Wait,” she hurries over and takes the seat across from you- taking one of the coffees. “You slept with Eddie?”

“Eddie and I went to Lover’s Lake after the game-”

“Ew! Did you do it in the van?” Robin gasps. 

“No!” You say embarrassed, “We were just there, and Steve followed us. He started banging on the side of the van and scared the shit out of me.”

“What did he say?”

“Get your fucking hands off my girl.” You watch Robin’s jaw drop. 

“No, he didn’t!”

“He did! And he called me ‘baby.’” 

“What happened after that?”

“Well, Eddie drove me home and I invited him to stay. It wasn’t like that at first. I just- you weren’t home and I didn’t want to be alone so I asked him to stay with me.” 

“Sounds like it was that from the beginning,” Robin teases. “And Steve came here this morning to apologize and win you over and you had to tell him you slept with Eddie.”

“Pretty much,” you nod. “He’s still here.”

“Eddie’s still here?”

“Yeah, he’s asleep.” 

“Holy shit, dude.”

“I know!”

“Explains that huge hickey,” she jokes and you swat her arm. “Was he.. Was he good?”

Your eyes widen, “Robin!”

“I don’t know what to ask!” She holds her arms up in surrender. “So are you and Eddie, like together?”

“We didn’t really talk about that yet.” 

“He’s been in love with you since he was like 17,” Robin points out. “You think he’s going to not want to be with you?”

“No- it’s just, it’s all happened so fast. I just don’t want to ruin anything.” 

“I’m gonna call Steve,” Robin says, “I want to check on him.” You nod in agreement. 

“Yeah, that would be good,” you agree. 

The door creaks open when you slip back into your bedroom. In your absence, Eddie has starfished out on his stomach and has taken up the whole mattress. In just his boxers, he snores very softly as the light from the window is starting to beam in through the panels of your blinds. You walk over to the side of the bed, crouching down to be eye level. You gently stir him awake. 

Eddie can’t put into words how incredible a feeling it is that you are the first thing he sees when he wakes up. He smiles lazily with his face squished against the pillows. He reaches out and beckons for you to join him back in bed. He scoots over so you can have space to slide in next to him. The messy bed and the cozy blankets are so inviting, it would be just enough to help you forget about what’s waiting for you outside this little sanctuary. 

“Come on,” he pouts, and you can’t help but concede. He pulls you into him, spooning you. He pulls the blankets over the two of you. You turn to face him, but he keeps his arm slung over your waist. 

“Steve was just here,” you whisper. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, concerned. The news of Steve’s visit wakes him up. You nod. 

“Yes, it was just a hard conversation,” you volunteer. “He knows you stayed here last night.” 

“How’d he take that?” Eddie asks.

“Um, I could tell he felt hurt,” you admit, “he brought me breakfast; wanted to apologize and try it over with me… I told him you were here, and he accepted it. He was clearly upset, but he didn’t take it out on me. He, um, looked devastated. But he just left after I told him.” 

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie asks, sounding shy and suddenly unsure of himself. 

“Of course,” you say encouragingly. 

“What did last night mean? You know, like- where do we stand?” Eddie isn’t sure if he even wants to know the answer. He’s so worried you’re going to reject him- tell him last night was a mistake. He’s bracing himself for the heartache of losing you.

You trace your hand gently over the side of his face, helping move his hair away from his eyes. Is it even still a question? You can’t help but smile. It all makes sense.

“I love you, Eds,” you confess and it feels like the weight of the world lifts off his shoulders. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see that,” you apologize, but he’s too wrapped up, he doesn’t even care. He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and passionate. Everything feels right- finally. 

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips. 

Your senior year (Eddie’s second), Eddie finally convinced you to sneak out on a Tuesday night and come see Corroded Coffin play at The Hideout. Your parents would kill you if they knew you were at a bar forty-five minutes away past eleven on a school night to see some boy with long hair and tattoos play in his metal band. They wouldn’t care if you insisted he was just a friend.  Thankfully, this is something they will never find out. 

Eddie felt on top of the world that night. He played better than he ever has, because you were there to impress. He could watch you, as you sat comfortable at a table all to yourself, singing along to songs you had no idea where even about you. You cheered and clapped at the end of every song- not caring if you were the only one in the room to acknowledge them. 

“Are you gonna ask her out tonight?” Jeff asks, covering his microphone between songs. 

“I don’t know- maybe. Shut up,” Eddie flushes, petrified you would hear. You hadn’t- you were completely oblivious to the way you made him feel. 

“If you don’t, I will!” Gareth whisper-shouts over his drum set. He laughs when Eddie turns around and flips him off. When he turns back around, you lamely throw him two thumbs up and grin widely. He mouths “Dweeb” to you across the bar and you stick your tongue out at him. 

Eddie did attempt to ask you out that night. Unfortunately, he was so nervous when he did it, you didn’t realize he had meant for it to be a date. He still cringes at how he ended up paying for Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Max to play mini golf and how shocked he was when they ended up tagging along. When he thought it couldn’t have gotten worse, the rest of Hellfire showed up as well. Since when did he have this many friends? He remembered thinking. 

Robin calls Steve a few times before she’s able to get through. She must have caught him right as he was getting home. 

“Yeah?” He sounds irritated. 

“Wow,” she says with a tisk. “Rude much?” She hears him take a breath. 

“I’m sorry, long day,” he mumbles. 

“It’s like 9:30,” Robin muses and he scoffs. 

“So you know?” He asks. 

“I know.” 

“I’m a fucking douchebag!” Steve exclaims, upset with himself still- clearly. “I can’t blame her for wanting nothing to do with me.” 

“You’re her oldest friend, Steve,” Robin points out, “She didn’t say she wanted nothing to do with you. She and everyone else I’m sure just everything to go back to normal.” 

“Normal except she’s with Eddie and I have to be around that everyday.” 

“Like how she was with you, for I don’t know- years! You’re being hypocritical. Don’t you think?” 

“Did she say that she and Eddie are together?”

“Not explicitly,” she says hesitantly, “Come on, Steve. You gotta let it go.” 

Steve flops down onto the couch and groans. He knows he’s being hypocritical- he knows he isn’t being fair. It doesn’t make the pain hurt any less. Something he couldn’t shake tugs at the back of his mind. You didn’t tell him you and Eddie were together, just that he stayed over. That doesn’t mean that you’re necessarily together. He knows he’s fooling himself. It’s so hard to just let it go. 

“The whole thing is way too close to home,” Robin muses, “maybe expand your dating pool to outside your immediate friend group?”

“I just need to actually hear her say it,” Steve says, but in agreement with Robin. “I just won’t be able to let it go until I actually hear it from her that she has no feelings for me.” 

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” Robin points out and he knows she’s right. “You need to figure out yourself. Do you actually love her? Or was it the idea of living her that you got so wrapped up in?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“There’s a difference. Were you actually in love with your best friend, or were you just in love with the idea of having someone you love who knows you like a best friend? Like you’ve known her for so long, and you’ve never thought of her as more than a friend until very recently? It might make sense you were wrapped up in the idea of it all- than actually falling in love with her. Does that make sense?” She takes a long pause. “The romanticism of it all, being wrapped up in that- you know?”

“Maybe,” he concedes. “It would’ve been really great.” 

“It would’ve,” Robin agrees. “But it wasn’t meant to be.” 

“No?” 

“No.” 

When Eddie gets back to the apartment later, he doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know if  Steve will take a swing at him, if he’ll yell, or if he will even be there. He doesn’t know what to anticipate Steve’s reaction to be. 

Surprised, Steve is sitting in their living room… calm. He looks solemn. He’s sitting on the same chair he sat the day of the huge fight. He’s staring at the spot where Nancy sat, and then his eyes move over to where you were. Eddie clears his throat to make himself known. Steve looks up like he’s been snapped out of a trance. 

“I’m sorry, man,” Steve says, immediately. “I really fucked that up.” 

“I don’t know- I get it,” Eddie sympathizes. “The whole situation is fucked.” 

“Yeah, totally.” 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Steve drags his hands across his face. Eddie can tell he hardly slept. He looks exhausted. “I will get over it, I’m sure. I just need a little time to get my shit together. Get over myself, you know?” He jokes in a self-deprecating manner. Eddie offers a sympathetic smile, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. They both know they’ll be fine in time. 

The next morning, you’re at their apartment door first thing with coffee in hand. 

“Do-over?” You ask with a tilt of your head when Steve opens the door. 

“Do-over,” he offers a half smile, taking one of the to-go cups from your hand. 

“Eddie’s left for work already?” You guess and he nods. You stand in the door frame, face to face in a few long moments of silence.

“I really miss my best friend,” you say finally.

“Do you still even want to be friends after all of this?” Steve asks, stepping aside so you can come in.

“Steve,” you say with a deep breath. “I always want you to be in my life. You are my oldest friend and I hate that everything has blown up the way it has. I know we can’t go back to the way everything was before. We can move past this, together, can’t we?” 

“I really missed you too,” he admits. “I talked to Robin- I think she was right about a lot of things. You and Eddie- you guys are my best friends. I can’t stand in the way of you too. I think like how I was so hung up on Nancy- I was idealizing her; remembering just the good parts. I know I would’ve been so happy to end up with you. But I think I was more in love with an idea.”

“I get that. I think I’m guilty of that myself,” you chuckle, thinking back to the many years you held Steve up on a pedestal. He smiles back at you- a wide, all encompassing Steve Harrington smile. You had him back. “So, we’re going to be okay?” you ask, a smile creeping onto your lips. 

“We’re okay,” he reaffirms. 

A few months later, following the truce with Steve, everyone is piled into Steve and Eddie’s living room. A movie is playing you’ve all long since forgotten about. Nancy and Jonathan sit in the love seat, his arm around her as they watch amused as Steve and Robin argue- both of them standing on opposite ends of the coffee table as they debate the logistics of whether or not it’s pronounced “Duh-MEE” or “Dem-EE” Moore. Neither one of them plans to back down anytime soon. 

Vicky watches from her seat in the recliner like a tennis match, her eyes bouncing between her girlfriend and Steve- enough to give herself whiplash. This was not how she expected her first movie night with Robin’s friends to go- but what else would she expect besides utter chaos. 

“I thought something was gonna be catching on fire,” Eddie whispers in your ear. “This is boring,” he says in reference to the movie. 

His arms sit loosely around your waist as you sit on his lap. Your legs lay across his lap, resting your head on his shoulder as you sit together in the chair opposite Vicky. You can’t help but laugh at his commentary. 

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen, hun,” you say with a smile, offering condolences for his disappointment in the movie. 

“You’re a moron if you think it’s Dem-EE,” Robin shouts, losing her patience with each passing second. “Everyone knows it’s Duh-MEE!”

“Robin- I swear to god! It’s Dem-EE- it would be spelled differently if it was Duh-MEE,” Steve argues. 

“It’s French!” Robin yells, exasperated, ready to pull out her hair. She couldn’t believe that he’s still pushing this issue. 

Eddie runs his hand up and down your leg as he tries to act remotely interested in the movie. He knows you like it, so he’s trying his hardest to pay attention despite the distractions- Robin & Steve’s antics sure, but more so, sitting so close to you. He can smell your shampoo and your skin is so smooth when he touches it. It’s hard to not be consumed but the sensation. He squeezes your hip, and kisses your temple. 

Eddie loves the simple touches. It’s the things he thought about for so long. It’s so easy. The things he always wanted to say to you, everything he wanted to do are just habitual now. He can grab your hand and kiss the back whenever he gets the urge. He can tell you he loves you randomly whenever he pleases. He can kiss you- kiss you everywhere. He wishes he could go back and tell himself that he got the girl- that she loves him just as much. Tell him it’s better than he ever imagined it. 

The dust has settled. The worst of it all seems to be behind you all. Steve has a date lined up for tomorrow night and it seems he’s finally been able to let the idea of you go. Maybe, you’ll always be the one that got away, but he knows he’ll find the person he was always meant to be with. He has a really good feeling about the girl he’s seeing tomorrow. 

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! Please let me know if you liked it. I decided on doing a follow-up story (maybe 3 parts?) focusing on this Steve and an another reader insert! Hopefully that's not too confusing lol It's going to focus on Steve meeting someone new, and falling for her. It can be read as a standalone or as a follow-up to this story. I'm going to do my best to have it out as soon as I can. Let me know if you like the idea or if it's too confusing.

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington @mrsjellymunson @fanficfantik

[leonastarry]

Hiiiii!! Glad requests are open. I love you work so muchh 💕💕.

I would like to request a fix about sung Jin-woo with a jealous wife/girlfriend reader.like she is feeling a bit jelly of cha hae-in cause she likes him(he wouldn’t like her in that way though). Reassurance, fluff please!!!

[ Req 9 ] Don't worry. ✧. ┊    husband!jinwoo x wife!reader

Your worries started after Cha Hae-in applied to join your husband's guild.

You saw her strength, she was also very beautiful and an S-rank hunter. Her status was very suitable for Jinwoo, compared to her, you were just a commoner.

Even though you and your husband were tied together by a wedding ring on your hand, you still felt anxious and jealous.

So recently, you became more irritable and kept thinking about this. You also felt a loss of appetite and your face was often full of sadness, which made Jinwoo very worried.

One evening, after dinner and lying on the bed preparing to go to sleep, you turned your back on your husband and thought about Cha Hae-in again.

You didn't want to feel like that. Cha was sweet, beautiful and a great hunter. You admired her in many ways - but you couldn't ignore the way she looked at Jinwoo every time they passed, and especially the way she confessed to Jinwoo the day she applied to join Ahjin.

Your thoughts were interrupted by an arm around your waist, your husband pulling you into his embrace and whispering.

"Wife, what's wrong? Is someone bothering you?"

You hesitated, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. "Nothing."

He hugged you tighter. "You know you're not good at lying, right?"

You bit your lip, glancing away. "It's silly."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, it's not silly," he said softly, reaching out to take your hand. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his touch warm and comforting.

You sighed and turned to face him. "It's just… Cha Hae-in."

His brow furrowed. "What about her?"

"She likes you," you blurted, your cheeks burning. "And… I don’t blame her. I mean, look at you." You gestured vaguely at him, your voice wavering between disappointment and embarrassment. "You’re strong, handsome, kind… Anyone would fall for you."

Jinwoo blinked, then chuckled. Your heart sank. "See? That’s silly." You tried to pull your hand away, but he held on, tight but gentle.

"It’s not silly," he said, his voice sincere. "But you’ve got it all wrong."

"How?"

He moved closer, one hand cupping your face. His touch was so gentle it made your chest ache. "Cha Hae-In may admire me, but that doesn’t mean I feel the same way. I’m not interested in her. I never was."

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was honesty.

"She's not the one who's there for me when I'm weak," he continued, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "She's not the one who knows how I like my coffee or can make me laugh when I'm having a bad day. She's not the one I come home to, the one I can't imagine my life without."

Your throat tightened as his words sank in.

"You are," he said, his voice steady. "And I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't good enough, because that's who you are. You always will be."

A tear slid down your cheek, and Jinwoo wiped it away with his thumb, his expression softening.

"I love you," he said, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "Only you." He raised your hand to kiss the wedding ring "I made a vow to you, until death do us part, I will always be by your side."

He cupped your cheeks and kissed you deeply. "Now go to sleep, don't think too much."

Don't worry. I will always love you, I will love you in thousands of worlds.

Thanks for loving my work.

Hope you like this ❤❤

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

hi ley☺️💕

I've been having a hard time feeling little recently☹️ could you maybe right some little!reader and wanda. like maybe just cuddling and nursing too if you're comfortable.

hope Ur having a good day

-🧸

Long Day

Cg!Wanda x little!reader

Summary: It's been a long day of being big, but Mama always knows what to do~

Word Count: 459

Warnings: sfw nursing, it's all sfw and fluffy~

Authors note: Thank you for the request and my first one of 2025~

Also, to all the littles, seeing this, please tred lightly on this blog! This is my big 18+ blog, but I do have some little!reader fics. Everything is marked accordingly!

It had been a long day, the kind that left your shoulders tense and your mind exhausted from having to be "big" for so long. The moment you stepped through the door of your shared home, you could feel the weight of the day threatening to overwhelm you. But then you saw her—Wanda, your safe place, your caregiver—waiting for you with open arms.

"Hi, sweetheart," she greeted softly, her voice warm and soothing. She could tell immediately that today had been hard. The slump of your shoulders and the quiet sniffle you tried to hide spoke volumes. Wanda stepped closer, cupping your cheek gently. "Oh, my little love, you did so well today. I'm so proud of you.”

Hearing those words, the walls you'd been holding up all day crumbled. Tears pricked your eyes as you dropped your bag and burrowed into her embrace. Wanda wrapped her arms around you, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"Shh, it's okay," she murmured, swaying gently. "You're home now. You don't have to be big anymore. Let me take care of you."

You nodded against her shoulder, already starting to feel the pull of your little space. Wanda led you to the couch, sitting you down on her lap as she brushed your hair out of your face. "Let’s get you comfy, okay? Do you want to change into your jammies and grab your stuffie?"

You nodded again, your voice small. "Please, Mama.”

Her heart melted at the sound, and she kissed your forehead. "Stay here for a second, baby. I'll grab them for you." Wanda returned moments later with your softest pajamas and your favorite stuffed animal. She helped you change, her touch gentle and full of care, and then tucked the stuffed animal into your arms.

Once you were settled back on her lap, she pulled a cozy blanket around both of you. "How about some cuddles, hmm?"

You nodded eagerly, nuzzling into her chest. Her hand rested on the back of your head, stroking your hair as she whispered sweet nothings. After a moment, she asked softly, "Does my little one want to nurse?”

Your cheeks warmed, but you nodded shyly. Wanda adjusted herself and helped you get comfortable against her. As you began nursing, the tension from the day melted away completely, replaced by a deep sense of safety and love. Wanda hummed a soft lullaby, her free hand stroking your back.

"You’re so precious to me," she whispered, her voice full of affection. "You’re safe, my love. Mama’s got you."

With Wanda holding you close, the world faded away, leaving only warmth, love, and the comfort of being her little one as your eyes grew heavy. Closing as you heard her whisper, 

“Mama loves you so much.”

[loveafterdeath-if]

Update (more like me rambling than an actual update, tbh)

Hope y'all are doing alright! I saw my inbox filled with asks and kind words (y'all are the best, as always), and I'll start answering everything once I wrap up Chap 2, Part 2. I want to focus fully on writing so I can get you the whole chapter before March at least, haha.

I'm gonna start correcting what I've written so far to avoid ending up with 100k words to fix all at once. We're about 50% through Chap 2, Part 2 (38k words, but it'll probably hit 40k with corrections). There are branches that have messed with my brain because I wanted to include scenes for each RO, but I don't regret it. I love games with lots of replayability (is that how we say it?), so I want mine to offer that too.

Chap 2, Part 2 will have a ton of branches for each RO, plus the option if you're not pursuing anyone, so it might take a while to get that full chapter out. I honestly don't know how other authors keep track of so many branches! I've always respected them as a reader/player, but being the one writing makes me wanna hand my future kids over to those incredible authors…

On top of that, I'm dealing with another issue. I've been writing so much that I think I'm slowly slipping into that "They gaze at her and say," "They take the paper and it falls" vibe (is that even a thing? Idk). You know, the kind of writing with no real description. I find myself double-checking everything to make sure the descriptions are 'good,' and I think I'll just play some IFs when I got time, to help me regain my groove without turning phrases all weird (I hate reading books, that's why I'm gonna play IFs). This is making me slow down a bit.

I've been pushing myself to write at least 4-5k words each day for the past 3 (4?) months, and I think I shouldn’t have done that. I'm putting pressure on myself without even realizing it. It's only when I end up with 'only' 3k words that I start feeling upset and push through to hit minimum 4k. I'm feeling good for now and don't mind writing that much, but I really don't want to wake up one day and boom—burnout. A Ko-fi member and some folks in my inbox have kindly reminded me to take breaks and take my time, so I think I'll slow down a bit. Like, maybe aim for 3k words?

I've been writing for years, (started on Wattpad in French, and yeah, it was… something) so no worries about the game going on hiatus or anything. I love writing, especially interactive stuff—so basically IFs, haha. Just wanted to keep you in the loop!

Anyway, this ended up way longer than I intended. Stay safe, don't forget to eat your greens, stay hydrated, and all that! <3

[reverieblondie]

Rolan x Bard Tav who is so good with their Vicious Mockery, especially when they team up, that the pair sometimes feels like they should check just to make sure they didn't somehow cause any fire damage with their burns.

A/N: So I took this ask and combined it with another ask that wanted Tav to catch him masturbating... I hope you don't mind!

18+ underneath the cut!

You did it again that damn mouth of yours did it again…landing you two in more trouble than it's worth…

Rolan sighs before turning to give you an unenthused look. Thanks to you and your vicious mouth, the two of you are currently having to hide from the rapid fire of spells being pelted your way. The only thing stopping them from landing was the table Rolan flipped for cover, and from the sounds of the wood splintering, it might not hold for much longer…

You, on the other hand, seem completely unfazed as you turn towards Rolan with a smug smile still displayed on your face. You're so proud of yourself, and it makes Rolan glare at you even more. 

"Must you keep greeting people like that? We could have been done with this by now." Rolan criticized as you just hummed and strummed away at your lute. 

"Oh, come on, Rolan, I thought you liked that one?" 

Rolan feels a warm shiver shoot through him as you look at him completely nonchalantly, and though it's true he does find your quips quite funny, he can't help but need to criticize, "You can't keep greeting people by calling them Elminsters ballbag!"

Of course, you don't pay any mind to his words as you reach over, boopping his nose and completely undermining the danger you are both in. Rolan wants to be livid to snark and remind you of what a disaster you have caused, but like he so hates to have to admit to himself… he does have a soft spot for you despite how much he's fought it. 

It was supposed to be simple; the inn owner had been desperately looking for anyone to help him, and of course, as soon as you heard wind of some sad sacks, you were offering your help. Chase off the wizard thugs who took over his family's inn, and he will reward you with a very rare tome of some kind, which was the deal. Of course, you had no interest in a magical tome, so it led to Rolan being roped into helping you. 

This seemed to be the trend lately, Rolan noticed. You would have a request made, and instead of dragging anyone else into the mess, you would somehow convince Rolan. He's unsure how you have become so persuasive… Though if Rolan was honest with himself, he would have liked to have your company and attention. That's the real reason for him falling into these fool's errands with you. He would join you on any foolish quest as long as you wanted him. 

The archmage and the hero of the city… he thought you two could make quite the duo if you felt so inclined, but no… you're fickle and teasing, and it drives him mad. 

Like right now, you two could easily get the advantage if you approached the fight right, but you must always make everything a mess. Smiling and singing your songs while everything around you is in uproar, completely unbothered. Rolan rolls his eyes, trying not to smile at your playful strumming and humming. "Just get ready to stun the pricks." 

You fake a gasp, "Rolan? Language!" - Bards… insufferable…

With a wink and a dramatic flourish, you abruptly stand strumming your lute, and you point to your next mark, a pitiful human who looks like he wouldn't know his ass from his head. "Behold! A most noisy cuck!" Rolan just shakes his head as he hears your victim groan. Your words are ridiculous, though burning. Maybe he should end their misery with an ice knife spell… that might be the only thing to help cut the burn from your vicious mockery. 

With one down and you singing as a distraction, Rolan can quickly cast a thunderwave before any of those pricks can defend from it. 

Of course, you two made quick work of those fools with how easy they were to take down and how flimsy their spellcasting was. Rolan can't even bring himself to call those casters wizards… morons were more accurate… Mouthie shites, as you had so elegantly put it right at the end before Rolan had finished them off with a magic missile. Now, here you two are in the mits of celebration in the shabby little inn. The owner had insisted when you two took the wizards out to stay the night in one of their rooms and to join in for a party, and though Rolan was ready to camp out in the silent dark, just the two of you… you, of course, always say yes to a party. 

Rolan is trying to be on best behavior for your sake; he wants to criticize the inn, the drinks, and the screaming patrons spilling beer all over themselves, but he holds his tongue. Looking past all the other party guests who have flooded the inn for the celebration to see the mighty sharp-tongued hero. You dance and sing with the musicians as everyone flocks around you to join in with your infectious merriment. Rolan tries hard not to be bitter, but as they are drawn closer to you, he feels the irritation build… though deep down, he can't fault them for it. You're infectious… every bit of you. 

A small smile starts to curl on Rolan's lips as he watches you dance, almost reminiscent of the night at your party's camp. Every drink, like tomorrow, may not come, and you are dancing and singing by the fire—always the life of the party. 

A brave soul dressed like a ranger comes up to you, and Rolan feels himself sneering; another one, the third of the night, probably comes up to offer you a drink or maybe a dance. Rolan wants to down his drink, march over, and sweep you off your feet in a possessive kiss. Instead, he slumps in his chair… he can't do that… you would probably be mortified, and it would ruin the friendship you two have taken so long to build… Rolan won't mess that up. Even if it means he has to sit in stomach-knotting heartache as guys flirt and dance with you. Rolan wants you in his life…. He intends to be the one you come to when you have a problem… when you have one of these random missions, he's the one you ask to join you…

The ranger holds his hand to you, and Rolan watches as you light up with a smile and laugh… Ugh, Rolan moves his gaze to his wine… damn his jealousy… damn his cowardice…

"See anything interesting?" 

Rolan looks up, surprised to see you standing by his table. To his delight, there is no dashing ranger nearby. 

"It's just cheap fizz they are trying to pass off as wine." That earns him a laugh from you. Gods, you have a great laugh… 

"Careful, Ro, the village might think you're an arsehole or, worst… a prude…" Rolan just looks at you; he should joke back, flirt, and lean in and whisper if you want to get out of here…

"What did the ranger want?" -Fuck… Rolan wants to cast silence on himself, but your surprised look only makes him feel worse. But of course… because you are you, his slip of jealousy, his crack is quickly glossed over. 

"Ah, him. He was trying to smooth me over with a drink to get our tome." Rolan's shoulders slack… our… "But don't worry! I am not so easily swayed! So, as promised here!" You pull out the tome and slam it on the table with a thud and a wide grin. You're so obnoxious… damn he wants to kiss you…

Rolan decides to roll his eyes as he gathers the tome, tucking it underneath his arm. "Finally the reason I came" - Not true

As soon as the words slip from his lips, Rolan thinks he sees your smile drop; zurgan, why is he being a jackass…

You stare at him for a long moment. He tries to ignore you as you assess him. From the grimace on your face, he can tell he's worrying you. He didn't mean to; he just… can't… you're untouchable to him. He wants to be honest, but this crowd is so loud that his jealousy makes him bitter! It's always the same! And it's frustrating! Why can't you just see how much he loves you?

"Rolan?" Your voice cuts through, making him look at your worried face, your hand carefully going on his. What's wrong? Aren't you enjoying the celebration? Parties are fun!" you try… but Rolan just feels his chest tighten. He wishes it was simpler, just you two. But no, from how he's acted, you think he wants the attention and praise from all these strangers! It's hopeless. 

Rolan rolls his eyes as he stands. "You don't get it. I don't need the praise or the party. All I wanted was…" his voice dies before he can finish snapping at you. "Forget it… I'm going to my room. Enjoy the party." 

"All I wanted was to be at your side…" Rolan scoffs to himself, dragging his hand over his face, "How can I tell her that? Why can't I tell her that…" 

Rolan strips off his robe in irritation, looks in the mirror, and sighs, "I only go on these jobs with you for the times when we are together; everything else is meaningless to me." He rehearses to himself before sighing again and plunging facedown on the bed. 

"Pointless, bloody pointless…" 

Rolan rolls onto his side, staring at his reward, the oh-so-rare tome… unless that tome has a way for Tav to see how he really feels, he's not sure it's all that rare or even worth it, but as the archmage, he might as well review it to see if it should be added to the collection. Rolan grabs the book and quickly flips through… boring… 

Another long sigh leaves his chest as he tosses the tome towards the bag; he lays on his back staring off; he should be thinking about the journey home; he should be thinking about the 100's of things he put on the back burner to be here… he thinks of your face and how you looked so confused at his arse behavior… 

How your brows knit in confusion and that slight pout in your lips. Rolan groans at the thought, that pout… that bloody fucking pout. It tortures him not to pitch it between his thumb and forefinger and lecture you on teasing him with your lips. From the look of them, he knows they are soft; how would they feel on his? 

Would they be cold compared to his burning skin? Would he be able to feel their softness while it's wrapped around his cock? 

Rolan's eyes widen as soon as that last thought leaves his mind. He sits up, placing his hand on his head… That image in his mind, you on your knees and your perfect lips wrapped around his length. 

He feels himself throb; an ache between his legs is begging for relief, and before he reaches down, he stops himself. He thinks about how you saved his family, how you have built a friendship, how you two trust each other… He wants more… but if he thinks of you this way, is that crossing a line… 

But before he can think about more reasons why he shouldn't… his hand is sliding under the hem of his trousers. As soon as he holds onto his cock he hisses in relief; he softly wraps his pebbling tip letting his precum be his lube. With eyes screwed shut, he thinks of you in every way, your hair falling over your shoulders, your hands sliding down his chest and teasing his nipples. Rolan uses one of his hands to toy with himself, making him whine as his hand moves faster. 

He knows you would smile at his noises; your taunting words would tease him as he comes undone beneath you. 

"Coming undo for me so soon? Cute…”    

The thought of you teasing him as you slowly bounce on his cock, clenching down everything time you push him all the way in, is driving him to move faster. His chest breathes faster, and sweat starts to sheen his skin as he keeps pumping his cock, feeling his ridges beginning to swell and throb. The thought of you bouncing and using him to get your pleasure has him slipping and staring to beg… starting to call your name… 

At first, it slips out as just a whisper… but as his imagination starts to run more rampant, it starts to feel more real… he lets go… 

Whines of your name married with short, soft gasps echo off the wall, along with the sound of his skin clapping together. 

Gods to have you on him, to kiss him, to bite him, to feel you clench down on his cock like a vice as he bullies into your soft insides. Just say the word, and it's yours… just say his name, and he will come… 

Rolan… 

Roaln….

Roaln!

"Rolan?" 

He freezes, his hand still wrapped on his straining length… Then he dares to look at his door, and that's when he sees you.  Your eyes are wide, and he sees you speechless for the first time ever. Rolan is quickly fumbling with the bedding and apologizing as you're not exactly sure what you're supposed to be doing. It's not until Rolan falls to the floor with a groan that you let out any noise. 

You rush to Rolan's side, but before you can touch him, he's quickly fumbling up, keeping a blanket over his front. Rolan holds his hand out towards you, his tail flicking erratically and his face blazing crimson. 

“Don’t come closer… please…I just was-”

"You're fine, Rolan, I'm sorry I should have knocked; I just… I was worried and wanted to check on you." 

Rolan wants to slam his head through the wall; what the hell's this, a nightmare… maybe you didn't notice…

"I guess goodnight again…" Rolan watches you begin to leave, but before he can leap to the door and lock it, he watches you pause, "Also, Rolan? If you decide you want the real thing, my room is across the hall…" 

Rolan's jaw drops as you give him a playful wink before walking out, leaving his door open only a sliver. Rolan stands there considering your words…, but before he can mess this up by overthinking anything, he drops his blanket and rushes to your room.  

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hi!! This might be a weird request, but I hope it's not too confusing: I love Destiel, but I get really frustrated trying to find fic where one or the other character isn't super confident/smug/Dommy most of the time. To be honest, I'll always be hung up on that scene at the end of It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester, with the two realising their similarities in chasing after absent father figures. Could you rec any fics where they're both damaged and vulnerable and learn to be kind and open?

Hello there!

Here are a few that might fit:

don't care where you've been by thanks_tacos (Explicit, 328k words)

Dean's life is finally changing. After years of enduring Alastair's abuse, the alpha dies and Dean's married off to the next alpha the system pairs him with - Castiel. The man is strange and distant, but not exactly bad, and Dean's determined to be on his best behavior and not mess up the chance he was given. Soon enough, though, he fucks up anyway and has to call the alpha for help. Castiel's lived his entire life without an omega by his side, and he was fine with that. He doesn't know how to proceed once he's suddenly married to a beautiful man who's obviously been through a lot. Omegas were always a confusing subject to him, so he tries not to interfere much - neither of them is there by their choice. But when Dean calls for help, he understands he's going to have to set some things straight and engage more.

Everybody Needs the Light by opal_bullets (Mature, 46k words)

In the summer of 2005, a gruesome hunt leaves a lonely and hurting Dean to take refuge in a remote Minnesota motel. He only means to stop for the night, yet finds himself compelled to stay. Maybe it’s the old, well loved lodge, or his cozy little cabin, or the spectacular views off the cliffs of Lake Superior. Or maybe it’s Castiel, the guy who runs the place. Dean’s falling for him fast, but there’s more to complicate the matter than the family business. Something strange is afoot in the Northwoods…Is Cas just caught in the crossfire, or is he the one standing at the center of it all?

First by FriendofCarlotta (Explicit, 25k words)

Romance novelist Castiel Novak is recovering from an addiction to painkillers and he’s struggling to settle back into life post-rehab. His therapist suggests visiting a local farm where anyone can spend an hour or two in the calming company of rabbits. The farm’s owner, Dean, is himself a recovering alcoholic… and a huge fan of Castiel’s books. A story of recovery, romance and rabbits, told in a series of firsts.

For Evermore by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 110k words)

There's no place like home. This was a line Castiel used to know by heart when he was a kid, watching The Wizard of Oz and believing fairytales were real. At thirty-one years old, he isn't a kid anymore, and it has been twelve years since he has known what home feels like. Twelve years. That's when his world had come crashing down and he had left his hometown, Holly Springs, with the broken pieces of what he once was to build a new life in San Francisco. But as circumstances force him to come back to the only place he swore he would never return to, Castiel is finally forced to face everything he once knew and loved. Especially when said everything is made of spring-green eyes and a stardust of freckles, wrapped in all the memories Castiel was not able to erase from his heart. After twelve years, Dean is as mesmerizing as Castiel remembers, but the scars of what was broken still run as deeply as the marrow of his bones, and Castiel will do everything he can to protect himself. After all, his favorite movie also taught him that 'until hearts can be made unbreakable,' he can’t listen to his own.

Have Love, Will Travel by squeemonster (Explicit, 94k words)

Castiel Novak is a reclusive writer with a childhood so tragic it's left him terrified to leave his home—until his overbearing brother, Gabriel, drags him out for a night on the town full of booze and strip clubs, and he encounters Dean Winchester, a mesmerizing and mysterious stripper with secrets of his own. Both men find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other, and soon Dean's private dances for Castiel become much more, as both men confess their troubles and find solace in each other's company. But neither can seem to find the courage to take their relationship further than the intimacy of the club's VIP Room—and just when Dean's own brother gives him the excuse he needs to finally admit his feelings, Dean discovers something that brings it all crumbling down. Will they find a way past their demons and their trust issues, and back to each other?

IPAMIS OL OLPRIT by emmbrancsxx0 (Explicit, 56k words)

The Winchesters, Castiel, and Jack discover the Men of Letters hid away a weapon that may be able to kill Michael. The only problem: it can only be used with John Winchester's blood. When Rowena performs a spell to temporarily bring John back, Dean runs into another problem. His father doesn't approve of his angel, and Castiel isn't too impressed with John either.

Nine Times We Met (And One Christmas We Parted) by almaasi (Explicit, 54k words)

On the last day of school before Christmas vacation, Mr. Castiel Quinn discovers that one of his young students has smuggled male pornography into the classroom. Upon being told that the photos belong to the boy's uncle, Castiel vows to himself that he will keep the other man's preferences a secret. It's 1947; a man experiencing attraction to another man or fantasising about his sexual touch are transgressive faults, which could potentially result in imprisonment - or worse. But then the uncle walks in. The photos are of him: Dean Winchester, a rogue with an empty pocket and a child to feed. Castiel doesn't know it yet, but his life is never going to be the same again. Years pass between chance meetings, but even though they live their lives apart, Dean and Castiel's story is proof that absence truly does make the heart grow fonder.

six hundred sundays (and many more) by sobsicles (Mature, 15k words)

Dean starts falling in love with him on a slow Sunday morning under slanted sunlight that slips through the gaps in the trees.

Solitudes by ilovehowyouletmefall (Mature, 21k words)

Dean and Castiel understand each other more than anyone else. They misunderstand each other more than anyone else as well. After Cas is nearly killed by Ramiel, Dean is coming very close to acknowledging that he wants something more from Cas than friendship. Cas, however, feels the weight of his responsibility very heavily. When Dean asks Cas to stick around longer, Cas says he needs to keep looking for Kelly, leaving Dean feeling dejected. But Cas agrees to help out on one more hunt before he leaves. Neither him nor Dean realize that the monster they're after can make their worst nightmares come true. OR: Dean thinks Cas is killed. Cas is there to witness the aftermath.

Something by the Sea by destielpasta (Mature, 30k words)

After suffering the horrific cost of being cured from demonhood, Dean and Cas settle down in the small town of Old Orchard Beach, Maine, buying a run-down shack near the beach to call their own. Dean attempts to get into a normal routine– fixing up the kitchen, chopping wood for the fire, and picking out paint colors– all with the pleasant backdrop of Cas’s company and a beach fifty feet away. These things prove themselves to be fragile, however, and the past haunts Dean in the form of nightmares and strange phone-calls from an untraceable number, along with the far-from-innocent history of their new house.

The Evil that Men do by MalicMalic (Explicit, 174k words)

When Dean learns his girlfriend found the man that raped her all those years ago, he is ready to make him feel the exact formation of Dean's knuckles, but Bela had some other ideas in mind. Dean is not what you might call a good guy, but even some things are too much for him. And then the worst thing happens - Dean learns they made a mistake. The guilt will consume him, making him change his foul path, but nothing will ever seem enough, even when he gets a chance for redemption.

The Greatest of These by DoctorProfessorSong (Teen and Up, 9k words)

When Jack pulls Cas from the Empty, his vessel is damaged. Jack is working on it. In the meantime, Cas is stuck hanging around the bunker in his Trueform. In other words, the fic where Dean takes Trueform!Cas on little dates and the author has way too much fun with angel lore

[icarusredwings]

Morph Motel

Loosely based off that one comic of Logan and Morph in that motel and they tell Logan they don't need sleep.

A Morpherinepool hurt comfort one shot

Thats long as FUCK

Tw: Mentions of personality disorder, murder, brainwashing, paranoia, depression, anxiety, and harmful behavior such as stabbing and chainsmoking.

Save me- Queen

It's a hard life- Queen

Somebody to love- Queen

I want to break free- Queen

Friends will be friends- Queen

The party downstairs was still going. It was multiple kids' birthday (seeing as they came from the same lab) so they said screw it and instead of a crappy gift and a slice of cake they ussually would get, the school decided that a party was in order, deciding to host parties for the youngers each month. To give those who didn't have family to celebrate with. A "Happy birthday to all of the March kids!" Kind of party, with stupid hats and confetti, games and cake made by Gambits cooking class.

Most times, Morph could be found turning into the kid's favorite heros and playing with them, Captian America, Thor, and one kid even asked them for Dr. Strange. You know.

The "cool" Heros.

But today, they were tucked tightly into the corner of their room, legs pulled up and face placed in their arms.

With a knock on the door, It opens to Logan's steps, peaking in, a birthday hat strapped on and everything, a piece of cake in his hand. "There you are. We were looking for you.. erm.. they were.. the kids I mean."

Closing the door, Logan dosn't hesitate to take the hat off, coming to sit next to them.

"Room for one more? Promise to only squish ya a little bit." He says, smiling at them in hopes they would make a joke back. But they didn't.

"....."

"Kev?.... you alright?"

Again. Silence. A long narrow stare at the floor infront of them.

"...brought you a piece a cake." Logan mumbles, setting it down infront of them, smirking a bit as he puts the hat on them instead, one that said "birthday boy."

"Age anymore, and you'll be as old as me." He says, gently nudging them in the arm with their elbow. It was a pretty shitty joke, but he was grasping at straws here, trying to get a reaction from them at all.

Without a moments notice, Morph aggressively rips the hat off, throwing it against the wall, turning away to hide more, now glaring.

"....Guessing you don't like birthdays?"

"Don't you have a husband to attend to!?" They snap, a deepy irritated tone ending in a grunt.

"Hey- Hey, Woah. Wait. Don't go shifting on me now. " his hand comes to their shoulder, rubbing it a bit. "Tell me what's wrong. Who pissed you off?"

They turn, looking at Logan's hand as if he had just put a rotten dead fish on them. Nose scrunched, eyes dark, and overall disgusted.

Their glare turns to Logan's concerned ocean blue eyes, their own softening into the white moons, frowning, upset by their own behavior.

Their face curls into that of a silent sob, hands coming to hide themselves, shoulders shaking as they cried.

"Shhh... shh. Which of these little rugrats made you cry, huh? You think Slim would fire me for slamming cake in a kid's face?" He asks, scooting closer, pulling their head into his shoulder.

A soft snort comes from the teary blob of soft cheeks, the tiniest of toothy grins.

"There you are." It's just three words, but the way he held their cheek, the way his brows came together into a look full vulnerability. The way that made three simple words and a rub of your back feel like 'I love you.'

The creases on his face are deep. They say you work more muscles by frowning then you do smiling but if that was the case why was Logan's so thick? Why did his smile look like it could cure cancer? And maybe it can.

Swallowing, They try to pull away, but Logan has already sniffed, hunted, and caught his prey, an arm locked around their shoulder. The warmth in their chest makes them even more upset, begining to cry again. This time out loud.

"Ima huge liability to those kids, Logan." They say, throat tight and high pitched. This is the voice of someone whos already given up. Whos already lost the battle.

But if Mr. Howlett knew anything, it's that it don't matter about winning the battle if you win the war.

"Ooh, Please." He laughs, rolling his eyes. "So am I. And trust me, I'm a bigger liability then pretty much anyone here... okay maybe Wade- but thats for different reasons. My point is, Why are you in here thinkin' bout that by yerself, eh?"

Sniffling, Morph keeps crying, nails gripping into the legs of their spandex. "B-but they ask for you."

"What?"

"They ask for you. Everyone asks for you. N-no one asks for me.."

It's now that Logan realizes what's going on, silently cursing out whatever child just broke months of work. Just you wait. He's gonna find that little brat and give them a big talking, too later.

"Oh.. Kev. I ask for you." He whispers, wiping tears from their cheeks.

What comes out next is barely audible, nonsense and a loud sob but somehow Logan still knows just what to say.

"Shh.. shhh I'm sure no one thinks that. Cause if they did, I would have fought them already. Besides, who cares what people think? You're my best friend-"

Somewhere in the mansion, Kurt feels a pang to his chest but is unsure why. Perhaps heart burn. Perhaps not.

"- and that's a lot seeing as I don't exactly like a lot of people. Out of all those people out there, You're probably my favorite." He says, smiling at them with the kindest, most genuine eyes.

"P-probably?" They ask, making Logan's eyes widden, starting to realize what he had just said.

"O-oh.. well- yaknow.. my husband.. I like him too. It's pretty- well Okay, You're my favorite non husband person." No one ever said Wolverine was good at words. He's better .. well.. Wolverine-ing.

Rolling their eyes, Morph grumbles, feeling that small flame of hatred grow more in their ribcage. "Oh wow... how romantic..."

"Okay, you want romantic, fine. But if you cringe to death, I don't wanna hear it. You're the morphine that dulls the pain enough to make life worth living here, and every day I don't see you, i feel the stabbing pain in my fingers more and more. There. Is that what you wanted?" Logan's ears are red, he's pouting now, a canine sticking out of his little frown, arms crossed.

They stare at him. Wordless. Expressionless.

A different flame is lit in their chest, a large firework type of explosion.

The silence is too thick, even for Logan's liking. "I-i told you! I don't do this sappy shit. I-"

"You mean it?"

"What!?"

"Your hands hurt more when you don't see me?" It's a serious question, no joking undertone.

Logan's mouth is dry. He feels like he just did something that wouldn't end the way he wanted. "W-well... not exactly." He didn't want Morph to worry about his pain. It was constant but managed.

Pausing, Morph thinks for a second. "Wait.." their face twists again, furrowing. "You wrote the same thing to Jean..."

"W-what? No! I-"

Standing up, they go to their closet, practically throwing the door open. Grabbing a suitcase, they click it open, tossing very minimal things inside before slamming it closed.

It all happens so fast that Logan has no clue what to do. Clumsily getting up, He's only more confused the more he thinks about it.

"No, I didn't. I-i didn't write that!"

"Yes, you did! Cause after that, you said how her hair is like the fire that soothes your sores!"

"You're wrong!" The voice is almost pleading to be litsened to.

Picking up the bag, they turn, long red hair forming, going past her shoulders, small kitten heels, a red blazer and a sage green pencil skirt appearing.

"You didn't write that to me, Logan?" It's a soft voice. A questioning and almost disappointed one. It was Jean's.

"N-no.. I-... I didn't write that." He's almost guilty, playing with his knuckles the way he did when nervous. And you know what they say about nervous dogs.

"Yeah. I know you didn't. Cause I DID! I helped you write it, you moron! And now you stand here and lie to my face?" They change back to themselves. "MY face??"

Throwing the bag over their shoulder, walking past him only to snatch the wallet off the bedside table, pocketing it.

Logan frowns, trying to go through his memories. Did he? No- but maybe? He shakes his head. No. He was with Wade before he even met this universe's X Men.

"No! That wasn't me. Just like all the stuff you did, wasn't you." He says, stepping in front of Morph, blocking the door. "Kevin. Stay... please."

He goes to grab his hand, but Morph only pulls their hand away. "You're not listening! That's not what I said. I said I'm a liability to these kids. And I refuse to stay here if there's even a chance I'll hurt them."

"I get that. I do... really. But you're just as much as an X men as any of us."

"That's why I'm doing what any other X men would do. I'm leaving, Logan. And you can't stop me."

Shaking his head, Logan frowns, looking at him with such sympathetic eyes. "You aint a liability, Kev.. you're our friend."

The once pupiless narrow of eyes quickly turns into bright yellow slit eyes, growing a couple inches and a shit ton more hair. "Still think I aint a liability? Runt!?"

Logan's eyes widden, taking a step back, the hair on his arms rising and his claws itch to pop.

"Don't.. Kevin, don't do that.."

"Why? Afraid I might hurtcha? Exactly. Now move, Howlett. I'm leaving whether you want me to or not." He growls, pushing past him, turning back to themself once the door was shut.

Passing past children playing and laughing, they wave goodbye to a few who now were confused, coming to tell Logan that Mr. Sydney was leaving.

"I know. Hey- shh It's okay. I'll get'em. Just stay here, 'kay?" He tells them, patting their heads and shoulders as he quickly tries to catch up with his friend.

"Kev!"

Opening the door, Morph frowns, looking at Logan with tears brinking on the edges. "Logan, Please.. I have to do this myself."

"Bullshit." He says, Grabbing his leather jacket off the coat rack. "You got a helmet?" He asks, shaking a smaller, longer coat with a hopeful little smirk, biting his tounge only to smile.

Scott's bike keys.

Kevin gives a soft grin. "Logan.. you can't."

"Ohh but I can. Now come on. We're we going?"

Shaking their head, Morph scoffs, rolling their eyes as tears dripped down their face, both from fear of hurting one of these little angels, and the other relieved that Logan wasn't going to let them go that easily. Though it did frustrate them a bit that Logan wasn't trained enough to know what the word "No" meant all these years he's been alive.

"I'm going to Margaret's." They say, sighing as they shut the door, Logan taking their bag, wrapping an arm around their waist.

"The bar??" His face scrunches up in that wrinkly confused look that blood hounds sometimes got.

"What? No.. The motel." It's almost questioning. Why would they go to a bar called Margaret's?

"Oh- right."

_________

Walking into the dingy motel, Logan's nose twitched, ears pricking up and his lips curling up into disgust of what he heard. ".. we can't go somewhere else?" He asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Hate this place.."

Ever since the first time Morph took him here, he's hated it. He felt they deserved more. A better room to get better in, but Kev said something about how Margaret didn't give them shit for smoking and sometimes- rarely- destorying property as long as they paid for it later.

"Behave. They don't allow pets." Kevin mutters, coming up to the desk in which a woman who smelled like old menthols and hair spray.

"Hey Kev." Without even looking at them, she takes a key off the wall, putting them on the counter, only to do a double take.

"Hey, Marg."

"Mmh. Brought your little boyfriend again? You know last time you were here I had to-" She starts.

"I know what I did. You want your money or not?" It's snappy, rude and it's said as if Kevin didn't want reminded of the room damage.

Before Morph can even get the money out, Logan already threw some up on the counter, a folded wad that should cover whatever damage they cause and the nights stay.

Frowning, Kevin looks at him with a sigh. "You know I could have gotten it myself."

"I know. Now come on, before I change my mind about this place." He says, taking their hand.

Snickering, they smirk. "No one's makin ya stay."

The glance that Logan gave to them and then to the door, only to grunt, leading them up to their assigned room. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

"Shut up, Kev." Wolverines usually didn't change colors, but this one did.

_________

It's been about an hour since they've been here. Logan laid out on the bed with the remote as some boring documentary played on the TV, watching as Kevin paces around the room, chainsmoking and peeking out of the blinds every couple minutes.

Honestly, it was enough to drive a man mad.

"You want a hit of mine?" He asks, holding out the half smoked cigar. "You're burning through those like its your last day alive, bub."

Shaking their head, They come back to the window, their fingers peer through the blinds, flicking their cigarette into an old dirty tray before letting out a deep sigh, planting themselves on the edge of the bed.

"I can't keep doing this, Logan. They're gonna find me. They'll make me hurt people. My friends.. the kids.. You."

Laying back with his arms over his head, he puffs some smoke with an inquisitive look.

"Who's they?"

"You know who!" They snap, grunting before putting the cigarette out on their boot, shifting to lay with Logan.

Moving the cigar away from them, he moves an arm to put around them, smirking. "Aye.. there he is...or.. there they are??"

A snort comes from them as they burry their face into his chest, grunting. "Pft-.. dosn't matter.. at least you try. Scott dosn't even care."

"Slim don't care abouta lot. What's your point? I do. And that's gotta count for somethin' right?"

The phone rings on the TV and Morph jumps up, ripping the plug out of the wall, eyes wide and begining to breathe unevenly as they look around for where it was coming from.

"Kev. It's just the TV. You're alright. Promise."

Gripping the gun in their pocket, Kevin breathes- or at least tries. Their eyes flick from each exit of the room, reminding Logan far to much of himself. How much of a scared animal he used to be. Pacing around that square cage just waiting for someone to give him a reason to use his teeth.

And now, here was morph, pacing, gripping their fists, and panting with a heightened heart rate.

Sighing, He sat up, standing as he came to Morph, hands coming around them in a hug only for Kevin to grab his hand, the one that was currently holding his pistol.

"Logan... don't. It's mine. I have a right to have it." Its almost like a growl coming out.

"Yeah. You do." Logan rips the metal away from them, taking the bullets out and swiftly threw them out the window.

"Logan!! I needed those!" They say, going to the window as the man peers down into the dumpster where the bullets belonged.

"Not until you're right in the head, you don't. I ain't losing you again. And definitely not over some spooky moron." He grumbles.

The look Kevin gave him when handed back the empty gun was dark and cunning. Planning.

"Whatever you're plannin', do it... Coward." This last word is spat as he blew smoke into their face.

In an instant, Morph smacks the cigar from his grip, throwing it to the dumpster too.

"Alright... I deserved that. But you still ain't gettin' bullets, Kev."

Groaning loudly, they throw the useless gun against the wall, beginning to pace again only to sit down, putting their arms over their head.

"This is all your fault, Logan! Now they're gonna come get me and Im gonna murder all the kids at the school and-and everyone is gonn hate me and- why the fuck are you smiling!? This is serious!!"

Logan had been staring at him with a soft smirk of adoration. There was just something about someone spiraling and saying they were going to do bad things that made him smile.

"You're adorable if you think im lettin' you outta this room, or anyone in for that matter." He says, crouching down to be closer to them. "Now, here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna chill out. Im gonna call Wade. Wade and only wade is going to come and we both re gonna watch over you. No one's getting in or outta here. Got it?"

Kevin sniffles, starting to cry again.

"I-im gonna hurt people, Logan! Why do you think thats funny? I-im gonna kill everybody and im not gonna be an x men anymore! Im gonna hurt everyone I love! Including youuuu" They sob, covering their eyes and pulled their legs closer to their chest.

"D'aaaww.. sure you will, bub." Logan says, patting them on the back, letting them hide.

Taking out his phone, he flips it open, going to one of his only contacts.

At the mansion, Wade was currently trying to pass out plates of food to the kids, making sure everyone had a fork and a drink, keeping the little ones from sticking their fingers in it and the older ones from starting a food fight when his phone rang.

When you call my name, it's like a little prayer, I'm down on my kne-

"Yellow!"

"Hey, Wade."

"Hiya Peanut! Where'd you go? You said you were giving Morph cake not- Ooh you naughty dog! During the birthday party?? Ooh I should have thought of that-"

Logan chuckles on the other side of the line, still rubbing Kevin's back with a toothy grin. God, He loved him so much. He was so nasty.

"Yeah, no, sweetheart."

"No? Then where'd you go?? Left me with all these bra- I mean Darling angels! And Collossus is NOT helping! He keeps popping all the balloons!"

Logan can hear in the background the russian man say 'Is not my fault fingers are so big!'

Only for Wade to immediatly bust out laughing. "Thats what she said!"

'Who she?'

"Your mom! Haaa!! Alright no but seriously were are you? Im bored out of my mind." Wade mutters.

"Wade, I got a job for you."

"Kinnnddaa busy with your pups, Wolvie. They're all savage- GABBY!! GET HER OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!"

"Is she eating Harley agian?- nevermind that. Uhm...Suit up. It's urgent."

"Oooo, we killin' someone?" There's TOO much excitment in the question.

"Maybe. I'll text you the address. You're doing an overnighter, so bring your shit." Lolo leans over, kissing Kevin on the head despite them trying to push out of Logan's grip. "Let go!"

"No can do, pal. You asked me to do this."

"Woah woah woah, do what? Logan, did you kidnap someone?"

He shrugs. "You could say that. Now get over here. The job pays good."

"Oh yeah?? What is it?"

Rolling his eyes Logan groans, having not had actually thought about it. "A large olive and pinapple pizza- AND... ill fist you claws out.."

The scream that came over the phone was enough for Logan to flip it closed.

"Ew! Let go of me you fuckin freak! I'll bite you!" Non Kevin tells him, clawing at the strong muscle headlocked around his throat, kicking and growling.

Logan smirks, "Only if I can bite back~"

"Gross!!"

"Oh, please. You love when I bite you." He whispers, leaning in to nip at their ear, making Morph shout, sinking their teeth into Logan's arm.

"YeOuch! You little shit!"

Squirming out of his grip, Morph takes after Wade, learning a thing or two, pulling a knife. "I said leave me alone!"

"So that's how you wanna play? Alright, let's play, baby."

Snkt.

_______

When Wade arrives, he's fully suited, has his gear and all the snacks he would need for a steak out, including a literal steak and rice take out meal.

Alright, now he just had to get past the desk lady. That shouldn't be too hard. He is the master of disguse, after all.

"Hello, madame. Im with the -"

"Room 240."

"Ooookay? Thanks, lady."

Huh... weird.. usually, it was harder than this.. felt wrong, really.

Ew- the one voice said. This place is disgusting.

"Fuck yeah it is. I bet there's cum smeared on the walls"

Passing a room, A woman screaming 'YESYESYES!' confirmed his thoughts, making him giggle. Oh yeah. He remembered this place now. This was Morph's Motel. Logan and him came here to do as much nasty shit as possible, sometimes with Morph. Logan hated it but this was the only one they weren't banned from and didnt mind the blood bath.

Hmm.. wonder why Logan would- Ooo! Suprise threesome!! Always the best.

Finding the door, he knocks at it. "Ooh Wollvviiee~ stop banging that twink for a second and let me-"

The door swung open, A sweaty and shirtless husband standing infront of him, though his fingers were bloody and there was a knife in his shoulder.

"- In.... you uh... havin' fun without me? Want me to.. erm.." His hand lingers up by his shoulder.

"Huh?" Logan turns then rips the knife out, a teeth gritted grunt following. "Fuck-"

"Fuck is right. What are you doing? Breaking them in half -" Stepping into the room, Morph was rocking in the corner, silently crying, whispering to themselves. Pillow stuffing was covering the room, blood on the floor, a gun lodged into the wall, and a ton of cigarette buts in the ash tray.

"Oohhh... it's THAT kinda night."

"Mhm."

"Stay away from me! I-i already stabbed Logan! Ill hurt you too!" The poor guy sobs, balled up by the wall, crying their little eyes out.

"Awwww. Thats cute. They think they can land a hit on me."

Logan smirks, showing him the knife. "I thought the same thing."

"Yeah but im faster then you, Peanut. Aint your fault, you just got old man bones." He teases, bringing his stuff over to put on the bed, organizing his weapons and sorting out the food.

"Aye, red."

"Whats up big daddy?"

Logan scoffs, picking up his take out.

"One- Don't call me that. Not right now. Two. Nothin' for them. No knives, no guns, nada. Got it?"

"Woof, that bad, huh? Well, it's alright. We'll take care of you." This last part was directed towards the blob on the floor. "Now, you want beef or chicken?" Wade asks, coming over as he crouches down, showing them the food.

"No!! D-don't touch me!" They slap the container out of his hand, sending rice sauce vegtables and chicken on the floor.

"....Fucking RUDE. That one's yours now." He mumbles, standing as he comes back to Logan, whos already scarfing down his steak meal.

"Jeez.. They're a mess."

"Mhm."

"Do I get like that??"

"Mmhm."

"Damn.. Really got a thing for crazies don't ya?" Wade teases, getting only a grunt in response.

"Yeah, me too. Regular people are boring. No offense to Kurt."

"I doubt he'd take any."

________

Hours pass. It's now 2 in the morning.

Logan has already cleaned up what he could in the room, now laid out, lazily flipping channels on the TV, hoping to find something decent to watch but only found a channel playing old recordings of a band called Queen. One that he vaguely remembered seeing once live. Good people. They had soul. Then again, he was on so many drugs at that point that he couldn't remember any of their names for the life of him. He remembers one of them winking at him, though and crying during one of their songs.

Specifcally the one that went "Mamaaaa! Oooh-" or something like that. Either way. It filled the silence and occupied their minds enough to keep Kevin sane.

Wade was sat on the windowsill, taking his job just as serious as any other job, binoculars out and gun ready. Ealier he shot gunned a cigar with Logan and he ate already so he was more then happy to keep watch, swinging his feet slightly to the beat of the music.

Kevin had already tried to take one of his guns ealier and another time, Morph shoved him out the window into the dumpster, but now they seemed to be much calmer, now more so just pacing around muttering to themself and coming to check in between the two every now and again.

"See anyone?" They ask Wade, who's looking at someone through the binoculars, clicking his guns saftey on and off as a stim.

"Just homeless people fighting and third shifters." He mutters, Turning to see how Kev's eyes had changed, smiling. "Hey Kev."

"H-hey.... Logan?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you smell anyone?"

"Just another prostitute and her client. Are we sure this place isn't just a brothel?"

"Hey, you leave sex workers alone. They work really hard to make their living." Wade speaks up, bumming Kev a hit of his cigarette, taking it back and switched his hands, giving them the binoculars to see for themselves.

"I never said they didn't, Wade... I'm just saying that this seems to be a hot spot for them. That's all. No need to get all defensive. Settle down, cowboy, we know- your the customer that decided to pay in diamonds." Logan scoffs, chuckling.

Kev tilts his head, watching as Wade turns to face Logan. "Fuck yeah I did. But hey, I took her on a date first. That's what matters. And that's why I wear two rings. One on my gay hand and one on my straight hand."

Morph bursts out laughing at this, seeing Wade let his 'gay hand' go limp at the wrist, pulling a 💅 pose, showing them the other hand with the fingers pointed upwards.

"Im sorry, What?? Straight hand?" They ask, acting much less paranoid than before.

"Duh. I got a husband that I love ssooooo much-" He bats his eyelashes at Logan, who smirks, blowing him a ring of smoke back.

"And I'm engaged to Nessy since APPRENTLY marrying two people is illegal. What's up with that? How can they put a limit on love?"

"I think it has something to do with taxes." Kevin says, moving away from Wade's watching perch.

"It's cause of religion infultrting the law, actually."

"Damn it, Kurt! I knew that little goody two shoes was keeping me from having 6 marriages! Tch. Rude." Wade says sarcastically, turning himself to look out the window, face becoming dead serious. Successful missions were important to him, even if it was just staring down a homeless guy digging in the trash below them.

From Wade's sudden silence, Kevins heart rate spiked. Logan could hear it. "W-what is it?"

"Nothin', bub. Just someone tryna find some food. That or make friends with some massive coons. Either way.. He won't let anyone hurtcha." Wolverine says, gesturing to how still and ready Wade was to jump out this window to kick ass, putting a hand on his holster.

"Aye, red. Down boy. Let the man eat a moldy sandwitch if he wants to." He tells Wade, who's a little too fixated to look away, but his hand comes off the pistol, still staring like an animal on the hunt.

Seeing how nervous and anxious Kev was, Logan gave a small whistle, patting the side of the bed. "...Come lay down."

Morph shakes their head, a deep frown on their face that made Logan miss their big smile.

"Come on. You need sleep."

"No I don't. I stayed up for three days straight once." They say, playing with their fingers, lingering by the other window.

"Yeah? And how'd you feel after that?" He asks, raising his brow in that 'Im wiser and older then you, you know im right' subtle way.

"Well.. Like shit. B-but that's not the point. I can't sleep, they'll get me. A-and then I'll hurt people. I... I don't want to hurt anyone, Logan."

"Been there.." Wade mutters, not turning his vision from the perk currently trying to wrestle a pizza from a big rat.

Logan lets out a deep sigh, reaching his arm out.

"You can't hurt me. Now come'ere." The older man says, switching hands to hold the stub of his shitty cigar. "I won't let anything happen to you. Swear."

Reaching a handover to pull Morph's waist close, Logan holds him tight, jolting when Wade shot something.

Hesitantly, Kevin gives a final check outside the blinds, their feet very slowly making their way to the edge of the bed, sitting. "...I'm scared, Logan.." they whisper, tears pricking in the corners of their eyes.

"I know.. but it'll be okay."

"Wade!! Did you just-!?" Logan scolds, sitting up to hold Kevin close, who had already started to panic, clinging to him.

"Relax! Relax. It was just a texas sized rat! What, like im gonna shoot a guy for wanting a 3 day old pizza?? Im fucked up but im not THAT fucked up. Sheesh!"

"They're coming to get me!" They screamed.

"Oooh hush, if anyone tries to 'get you', they'll end up like that rat. Big fucker though, god what chemicals are they putting in the sewers? This is how we got that big ass turtle ninjas problem in Chinatown!"

The face Morph made was pure confusion.

Logan, who was honestly not sure if Wade said this as a shock factor to ground kevin or just was saying weird shit again, blinked, just as confused.

Why couldn't he have a normal husband sometimes? Was that too much to ask?

Logan pulls them down into his chest, hand going over his back. "Scary little shit, Ain't he?" He asks, putting the butt of the cigar out in the tray next to him. "Though I guess that means you're the safest guy in town..."

"Poor rat..." His friend mumbles, letting his calloused hands run the top of their shoulders all the way down to their hip. Oddly enough, it was so soothing that they suddenly felt a wave of tiredness wash over them. The kind of tired that you only got from having a big cry and now needed to rejuvenate your body with sleep.

Moving to let a breath out, they weren't aware they were holding, Kevin lets themself lay on Logan, litsening to his heartbeat as their breathing slowed.

"Who do you want me to be?" They ask. It's quiet and just above a whisper, but the silence and glares that followed were extremely loud.

"...what?"

"And he calls me gods favorite idiot... jesus." Wade says, shaking his head softly and turning back to watch the man happily eat his pizza, and put the rat over a fire for extra protien.

Logan's glare made Morph feel like they were about to get mauled or beat the death. Probably both. "You." He growls.

"A-are you sure? I can be Kurt if you want... hes softer.." They say, slightly trying to pull away from him but Logan only tugged them closer.

"I don't want you to be Kurt. Or anyone. I want you to be you. Why don't you get that? What part of 'I want morph' do you not understand?"

Swallowing, Kevin -In their human form- looks up to Logan with a sheepishly guilt. "L-.. like this?"

Logan growls deep in his throat, shaking his head slowly.

Blushing, Morphs skin turns all white, and their hair and eyecolor disappear. ".. like this?"

His eyes soften, leaning up to kiss their head.

"Perfect.. Now, go to sleep. You have a class tomorrow, don't you? ...With the X men. Always. With the X men." Logan soothes, keeping them tight against his chest as he himself closed his eyes.

"Wade-"

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, Peanut. Not even a cockroach is getting in this place without my permission." His pistol cocks, proving a point.

Under the Tv and the honking outside, Moprh, eyes closed and half asleep, warm and comfy in his arms mutters. "Thank you.." ever so slightly.

"Don't mention it, bub. Go to sleep.. it's late."

The silence before was so loud, but this silence was nice. It was... Perfect. Just like Moprh, Logan thinks.

"...Logan?"

"Love you too kev..." The statment, spoken like a fact, is followed by a deep snore.

The toothy grin they had buried into his chest was all that mattered right now, their breaths synchronizing under warm (dirty) blankets. The way the rain outside began to pitter patter against the windows and floor of this concrete jungle.

Snuggling up under his chin, Kevin finally felt safe here. Logan ready to take care of them until the end of the world, Wade ready to shoot anything that moves, and the soft rumble of the freeway behind them creating a farmilair chaos.

"D'aawww... Goodnight my pretties... don't let the bed bugs bite.. no- seriously. Don't."

"So I guess that's it then, huh? Morph beats yet another manic episode, Wolvie gets to help prove that they aren't a burden, and I get to be fisted later with claws out as payment for keeping watch. What a wonderful way to end-"

"Wade..? Who are you talking to?" Asks a worried tone. "Is someone here?"

"Oh, uhh...no one. Just go back to sleep, it's fine. Everything's okay... you should probably go before they start freaking out again. Seeya later. Be yourself and all that moral lesson bullshit. Bye, babygirl!"

[robolvrr]

private show ੈ ♡˳

galaxy girl. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　

swerve x fem! camgirl warnings: nsfw. mutual masturbation.

one.

tossing this thing, far, far away from the lost light wasn't sounding like that bad of an idea.

really. he even had the nerve to fumble through an lie, assuring the now ragtag bunch of contraband-loving thieves having witnessed the magic on it that it wouldn't be a worry. he had it.

besides, rodimus badges were on the rise and whether any of them liked to admit it, it would be nice to earn one. not that swerve has. yet.

this kind of secret if found out? would land them all in magnus levels of trouble.

.. so why is swerve here? locked up in his habsuite, fist crunched between dentae and perspiration sweating down his helm? he asks himself these questions too late, which is a bittersweet epiphany, because by the time he does self reflect its usually long past knee-deep in scrap.

this is all kinds of wrong. he's all kinds of messed up and this infatuation with earth and humans and pretty, pretty girls has gone too far because he isn't even one -

"shouldn't i be tellin' this to .. rung? rang?"

the mumble of course met with silence. that is, until the pitch black screen zaps to life, temporarily fading his crestfallen expression to a faint reflection on a light, persimmon backdrop. the backdrop being evidently your bedroom, which you decorated just for him he acknowledges.

right. he had it, alright. credits, that is, enough to get one more show.

a personal one where he didn't have to bump shoulders or awkwardly squeeze his legs together, swipe prompts away while arm to arm with fellow crewmates to unlock his interface panels.

before swerve can talk himself out of this stupid idea again, the dreamy call of his designation bursts from the speakers instead. starstruck, he panics. slams a digit in a flurry on the audio controls, wincing a moment with a mortified grunt.

thank the primes he's mute. he can only hope it wasn't loud enough to warrant an complaint from a neighboring bot.

"sweeeerve.. you there, sweetie? i know you said you were nervous."

nervous? him? oh, buddy if you only knew! he slowly shifts forward and you'd have wished his camera were on, because it'd have been so cute seeing how delicately he handles the dented laptop, worried lip slipping between metal teeth.

tap tap tap. it's so hard typing.

[ Lol. Just haven't done this before. ]

he isn't sure what to expect at first. you're propped up, comfortable atop your tower of pillows. satin hides most of your chest and torso, but a split towards the front with a crinkled hem suggest the lingerie you wear is meant to be opened. unraveled, like a present. skin glittering like those earth movies and their shiny vampires, nipples pebbled through tempting fabric.

you look like a princess. you look like a goddess.

"oh? i'm popping your cam cherry then, mm?"

it takes him a second to understand what you're saying. his face grows hotter. he actually has to fan himself with a vibrating servo - you're a tease, sheesh!

[ HAHAHAHahaha. I guess. ]

swerve wants nothing more than to slam his helm against the wall. please don't torture him like this. not before you even start.

as if your hear his agony, a giggle tickles his audials. you finger the soft opening of your nightwear, head tilted and lips pouted.

"alright, alright. i bet you're frustrated. but! i am a woman of my word."

frag, you're actually listening to him. a whiny part of him reminds that this is transactional and while it could shatter his confidence a tad, he's perplexed because you don't act like its just another job.

in fact, he's a little dizzy staring, watching you place both your hands near the wall behind you. then your legs are spreading, further and further and further, until he can see your glossy...

valve. cunt. pussy. the foreign words make his intake dry.

you're so fraggin' small. and he's bigger than you, way bigger, which isn't a feeling that graces his processors much. your small fingers, flirting with garters stuck tight at warm thighs. small mouth, huffing and panting while you work your.. you have a node?

it's so tiny. he has to squint to see it. blue visor hot enough to burn, his panel mechanisms move on their own embarrassingly fast, chubby spike ramrod at his torso.

"f. hah. hahhhhh, okay, uh.."

okay good, he's still on mute, to his relief. he doesn't even want to ex-vent because it might risk smothering your mildly, aggravated whine. you mewl. he laughs, in disbelief.

"y'know.. these kind of shows turn me on the most. cause if i can't see you, can't hear you.. i wanna make you overload more. drives me crazy."

engines revving, his strokes stutter upon hearing the terminology. must have known that too - are you a mind reader? - cause you smile, all-knowing.

"yeah. i wanna make you overload with me, swerve. would that make you feel less stressed out?"

[ Yes. Primusy es. ]

he doesn't bother correcting. instead he's fallen head over pedes watching you curl ring and middle deep inside, gagging on whines when you spread just enough to gape. he almost breaks when you whisper how you've never done it with a cybertronian, but you'd like to someday. that it was one of those fantasies none of your toys could even fulfill.

"d-don't think i could take you, hah. you bots are so big - fff - bet you you could show me a good time with just your hands."

swerve notes you like it, pressure, on that glossy nub, blunt of your palm grinding down hard. his jaw is tight as he jerks off in tandem, seeing the sticky juices gushing and wanting to shove his face right there. kissing, nonstop, until you spasm. the screen looks blurry. he's losing control.

"i'm so wet for you. do you like it?"

"are you kiddin'? c-course i do!" swerve almost chuckles again, right servo moving so fast its an sloppy mesh of squelches and rasps. keeling over, desperation paints his weakening demeanor. seeing you rise and fall chasing that high with him like an turbofox in heat is excruciatingly compelling.

"frag, frag, 'm so close baby, please, please-"

you smack your cunt. he lets out a quiet 'bwuh?' and shoulders sag seeing you squirm with a squeak. he could do that to you. he could be tender enough to do that too and he'd leave a sting that'd stay for days.

"so close, so c-close - i - shit - i'm gonna cum," what a surprise, to feel lubricant trickling down from near offlined optics, don't stop talking please, please, please - "swerve, you're gonna make me.. !"

white noise.

a dull, crackling hum fills his processors. he can't hear himself or you, the minibot crying while transfluid puddles, berth not cool enough to dampen the flames pulsing at his core. his charge is too much, knocking air he doesn't need straight from his chassis.

like dead to allspark, your dulcet whines drag him to the afterlife with cradling embrace.

by the time he's back online, his panels aren't closing nor can he lift himself, energon parched. he barely can see the text chat anymore as it is.

[ feel free to play with me again, swervey. you sound so sexy. ]

the screen is pitch black once more, taunting. to his horror, arousal floods his sensors, groan low.

damn it.

robolvrr 2025.

a/n: yeah so i'm actually insane. you're welcome. i'm just saying i'd give that bartender a ride he wouldn't survive. 　

[heartbeatbookclub]

I've attempted cobbling together multiple different full-length essays on my thoughts on Yuri being autistic, something i've referenced multiple times on this blog virtually every time I do any deeper analysis of her character, partially as a means of pressuring myself, but mostly because I really don't think there's a way I can understand her character without this as a baseline. It's something that's really fundamental to how I see her character, and as something of an autist myself, it's something I feel pretty strongly about.

I've attempted making multiple full-length pieces on this. Emphasis on attempted. So, rather than doing a true full length analysis, I thought I'd just throw myself in and go a bit off the cuff.

Understanding is what follows Trust, quite literally immediately after. I think I've been underserving my point (and my own understanding) every time I've talked about the Side Stories directly without addressing the formatting and overall themes. I've got an extremely old draft trying to enunciate my fuller thoughts on it, but I doubt I'll ever take that anywhere, so here's this now: I think probably the broadest theme across all of them comes down to something like connection. Communication, miscommunication, words left unsaid and the fact that you never really know what's going on inside someone's head. And despite all of the individual problems which can create conflict and breed disconnect, the Literature Club is formed with the intent of being a club for everyone, where each person can come and feel safe expressing themselves, with the hope that they could find community. Which they succeed in.

I think, really, when you look at DDLC as a whole, its entire point can be condensed within this idea, and both the Side Stories and Base Game are just two different ways of viewing it. This post puts it pretty well, I think. There's this constant emphasis on the unseen side of someone, just beneath the surface.

"Can you hear me?"

Anyway, my broader point in leading with that is, each of the titles refer to specific ideas which the stories they contain deal with in great detail, usually as a central element to a given conflict, and revolving around some central thing that needs to be learned (further emphasized in Equals). They're obstacles to the connection they're trying to create. These traits are instrumental, both in terms of building the club as it comes to be, and in bringing each of the characters closer together, solidifying the connection between them in spite of their differences. I think in general you could also describe them as fundamental traits that go into creating the Literature Club as a concept, particularly on terms of the vision as a place people can feel comfortable expressing themselves in.

Trust is all about the relationship built between Sayori and Monika, and the...well, trust they build with each other. The trust they invest in one another, that leads to them sharing some of their deepest secrets with each other. It also, I think, represents the trust that's necessary in the environment they're trying to create (It's difficult to express your true self if you don't trust the people you're expressing yourself to, after all!) I think Trust sets out the modus operandi which the rest of the stories operate under; in order to create the environment which Sayori and Monika envisioned at the start, there are a few essential hurdles which need to be crossed.

I think Understanding having direct continuity from Trust is important in that sense. It's a direct showcase of their vision in action; from creating it in Trust, to making it a reality in Understanding. And in that sense, it showcases the first major hurdle they have to get over.

To get away from the whole subtextual analysis thing, Yuri's introduction does a lot in a short period to establish the kind of person she is. As Monika puts it: "intense". She jumps straight in to talking about her books as soon as she's sure she's in the right place, in a way that awkwardly (but effectively!) side-steps the attempt at introductions which Monika and Sayori give (a theme that becomes common as the story goes on), and gets straight to her point, that she wants to join their club, and that she really wants to share her books with them.

I also can't go on without at least mentioning this adorable little moment--

It's really obvious from the outset here that Yuri is very excited to have found a place where she can talk about her books; a place filled with people who seem to share a common interest with her, where she can find like-minded people to make friends with based on her love of fantasy literature. In fact, she seems so taken with this idea that she doesn't even seem to notice Monika or Sayori being put off at all by how overexcited she is. She gets so caught up in her own thoughts on the matter, in fact, that without a second thought with regard to the social consequence, she takes off to go and get her books once she realizes she didn't bring them.

I gotta be honest, I don't think Yuri was really paying attention to how this conversation was going, not to dig on her. There's a particular reason for that, I think.

I think she spent a whole lot of time running this entire moment over in her head, again and again.

That might seem like an obvious assumption, but I have some specific reasons why I think that, like the fact that she forgot Monika's name two separate times, or that she says she took the flier immediately but had to work up the courage to come in. I'd say even the fact that she feels the need to say that she "should be good enough" to join their club (as though there's a skill based barrier to entry in a school hobbyist club?) indicates that she probably spent a lot of time creating imaginary standards to check herself against just to be sure she'd be up to snuff in any serious literary debates.

I think her idea of a "Literature Club" is fairly similar to what MY idea of what a Literature Club would be when I first heard the title, and what I'm sure a lot of other people kind of envisioned: something like a book club. For books. And people who read books. Made for people to come in and talk about books. As a consequence, I think she excited herself building this idea in her head of a club at her school, filled with her peers, where she could go in person to meet like-minded people to talk with about something she's truly passionate about. It's all of these factors together that lead me to thinking she probably came in with a very one-track plan in mind, potentially as simple as "see if anyone there likes fantasy, see if anyone there likes annabelle dupont, makes friends by talking about annabelle dupont!" after doing a lot of thought on the matter, and considering a lot of what could go wrong.

I think that's why she pushes past the introductions quickly, and why she's so resistant to (or, maybe better put, uninterested in) small talk. When she came in, she had a few very specific, and very important thoughts in mind. She wanted to see if anyone in the club shared her specific interest, and she wanted to join their club. The introductions, the social element? That was mostly secondary to her real desire here. I'd say she even saw it more like an obstacle to what she wanted to do.

And this introduction, with this context in mind, leads me to a very particular idea about Yuri's whole deal.

Yuri is very passionate about literature, in particular a specific fantasy series by Annabelle DuPont, which she is very happy to gush about at length with likeminded people. Yuri lacks a great deal of intuitive social awareness, and has a tendency to get caught in her own thoughts pretty easily, social consequence be damned. This in conjunction with her obsessive interests can be very clearly seen to put off people around her, and impair her own ability to recognize when other people are put off by her. She takes a rather literal, straightforward approach to things, and is mostly uninterested in introductions as opposed to a conversation about her interests.

Guys...I think she might be Literally Me.

Okay, so I'm not going to pull out a full DSM-V diagnostic criteria list here, but the emphasis on her social dysfunction combined with her obsessive interest in a particular subject (in this case, with a particular overcomplicated fiction series) are some clear indicators, but it does go a bit deeper than that, imo. It's hard to really typify, but unironically, there are a lot of things to the way she's written that I just deeply identify with as an autistic person, coupled with some dense anxiety.

The moment of her pressing her knuckles against her cheeks is a pretty obvious example of stimming, something she does in this instance because she's too excited and happy to express the feeling in any possible words. Her immediate jump into asking about fantasy I think comes from the fact that this question was on her mind and she just needed to find a moment to ask it--something I find particularly relatable as a former child who could never find a good moment to interrupt a conversation. When you have something really strong on your mind that you really want to say and you're just looking for a good moment where you can finally break in and ask it and it just seems to never present itself so you just have to break in at some point even if it's awkward--whether that statement is "I want to join your club!" or "Do you like fantasy?" or "Is your shirt a reference to this band because their music literally changed the course of my life and if you like them I wanna be your friend". I view this as something of a consequence of autistic inertia (as in, the trouble many autistic people have of switching between tasks), particularly when you have to deal with engaging in a conversation you're currently in which you'd like to steer in a particular direction--or that you just want to jut this question into. This is, in my experience, one particularly common reason an autistic person might come off as blunt or tactless in conversation: sometimes you just wanna say something and you don't know how to do it naturally or politely. (At the very least, this is a common reason I've personally been called blunt or tactless.)

And of course, since I mentioned it without focusing much on it earlier: Yuri's intense focus on her books and what she's talking about leading to her not noticing how the other two are reacting is a neat little showcase of impaired empathy, though it's also a consequence of her hyperfocus on her own train of thought in that moment.

It's also a very nuanced, and I would say exceptionally real portrayal of autistic empathy. See, I've mentioned this before on this blog, here, but there's this funny little trope with autistic characters, where due to the idea of "impaired empathy" as an autistic trait being...rather ironically taken too literally, autistic characters are often presented with this unflappable confidence of having never been rejected by other people in their life, as though they can't even empathize enough with the idea of rejection to understand that they're supposed to feel negatively about it. As a consequence, autistic characters will often be written with this constant need to be insensitive, emotionless little weirdos, and any blunt, tactless, implied or explicit insults they share are just accepted because "they're autistic lolz", and they never advance from this perspective.

This is...needless to say, not a good way to portray autism, I can speak firsthand, hi, I know a shitload of autistic people and also I am one of those, what the fuck guys, at least make me a cool terminator robot or a Ryan Gosling character or something--anyway, more bluntly, it's also just inaccurate, and speaks to a misunderstanding of what autism even is. I think most portrayals of autism in Hollywood and TV are broadly misinformed about the autistic perspective (ignoring that there isn't really a universal autistic perspective...that's a broader discussion that's not important here tho), and the way they portray autistic people's experience with empathy is probably one of the most obvious examples.

Autistic people do not have some magical lack of empathy. It's not somehow impossible for autistic people to understand (or at least relate to) your feelings. It's just that there's often this extra little gap you need to bridge to really get there. It's a bit tough to really explain past general terms like this, especially since every person's experience with autism is different, but let me just elaborate on it on terms of Yuri, because she outright defies this very Hollywood idea of impaired empathy in a pretty nice way.

When the others react to Yuri's enthusiasm, she doesn't seem to really pick up that they're uncomfortable. She doesn't seem to notice their facial expressions, or the overall tone of the conversation, or how one-sided it really is. She gets one piece of positive affirmation from Monika ("Fantasy is cool.") and immediately latches on to that, ignoring the rest of the awkwardness of the conversation around it. She's not picking up the cues here that the others aren't on the same page with her, and it's only after she receives an admittedly very minor and well-meaning bit of pushback from Sayori that she realizes she might've gone a bit far. More specifically, it pumps the brakes on her excitement and forces her to be a bit more receptive to an actual conversation, which enables her to slow down, and in that way, reflect a bit more.

She doesn't let on anything about it immediately, but the following day, she apologizes, revealing that on reflection, she decided that she was being overbearing, and didn't consider anyone else's feelings in the matter. Here, even when Sayori pushes back on that, telling her she didn't do anything wrong, she's pretty set on apologizing, acknowledging she did do something wrong, and pulling back, instead letting other people take the lead. She states (her opinion) that nobody was actually interested in her book, and instead that they were just humoring her. When Sayori pushes further, indicating that she is interested, and it's something she really wanted to do as a club activity, Yuri immediately swaps to the other end of blaming herself, immediately questioning why she's being so resistant, when she wanted to do this anyway, then apologizing for "being like this".

The anxiety on display, the immediate turn to catastrophizing about how this situation can go wrong (or already has), something we saw briefly earlier when she talked about how she thought Monika might've spoken ill of her in the club when she received the flier, that's all one thing, but what seems plainly clear here is that there's a gap which isn't being bridged. Yuri doesn't actually understand Sayori's thought process, and Sayori doesn't understand Yuri's, and that's the fundamental conflict here. That's the real gap in understanding.

And that gap, between how one person looks at a scenario and how another views it? That is, in my view, the most fundamental element of autistic empathy. That's what fuels the disconnect. There's a lot of different traits which might make up an autism diagnosis, but the differences they create on terms of thinking and behavior aren't some magical other separated from neurotypicals as a class of people; there's always some fundamental logic to it, which you just need to take the time to understand.

Digressing--there's a lot of littler things around these moments that I tie to this view, like Yuri's issues with many people, or Yuri only seeking out people to talk about literature with online. I mean, when you consider it, it is kind of obvious to check around the posted clubs to see if there were any to suit her interest...so why didn't she? I think it was intentional, though unconscious. I think her decision to come to the Literature Club was actually fairly motivated by the fact that Monika outright placed the flier in front of her, creating an impetus for her to want to join, besides the fact that it seemed like it was perfectly made for her. There's now an active pressure for her to go, as opposed to a passive "oh that sounds nice..." you'd get from seeing it on the walls.

There's also that little back and forth between her, Sayori, and Monika, where she quickly focused on the framework Sayori created on the conversation rather than anything else (you say something, then I have to say something), then immediately struggled as Sayori broke that framework to do a quick bit with Monika, before turning back to her. Again, I think there's more struggle here with figuring out when it's her turn in a conversation, which is probably a big part of why she prefers to stay quiet.

On to them reading, there are even more little things, like Yuri's particular way of explaining the lore, introducing the series, and using paper to take notes and detail her thought process (which individually indicates that she seems to have a very particular and seemingly meticulous way she likes to enjoy her favorite series, and her desire to share it in EXACTLY the way she likes it, so she can be sure to get all of what she views to be most important about it, and of course, a need to be organized to keep all of her thoughts together and help visualize everything; this kind of alternative thing isn't just an autism thing, but autistic people tend towards using alternate forms of communication and visualization to help understand something in their own particular way, more on that disconnect), as well as that not so subtle example of her not picking up on Sayori's extremely mild sarcasm, or the fact that "you can't generalize intelligence" is quite possibly the most technical and autistic way of downplaying a compliment I've ever read committed to word. Oh, and Yuri's indignant little response to Sayori writing nonbook notes on the book notes page, minor and offhand as it is, indicates further that Yuri's a stickler for details.

Once they start reading, we see more of the actual issues Sayori has, which fills out the rest of the conflict. Both of them end up stuck in their head. In Sayori's case, her own inferiority complex builds this progressive sense that she's not doing good enough for Yuri, and that must be why she's not having a good time. Meanwhile Yuri becomes convinced that Sayori is just patronizing her (despite all appearances), in large part because of her past experiences with others, which I think is an especially important thing to address.

I've already touched a bit on the following conversation between Monika and Yuri here, but this part kinda just lays a lot of it bare. Yuri's great at talking about her interests, but struggles with anything else. She has a lot of trouble doing this kind of social reflection and trying to figure out what other people are thinking. She doesn't know how to bridge that gap. She's really bad with other people...and she's accepted that.

I think that's an especially important thing at play here, and it's where this whole conflict comes from.

Monika's able to bridge the gap in the first place, because she knows what to say to direct the conversation in a useful direction--to make Yuri trust her, and trust that it's okay for Monika to act in her interest, because she's club president. It's her job to try to help everyone feel welcome. Then, as they talk, she's finally able to work out what Yuri's actual problem is, peeling the wall back between them with trust, then bridging the gap with understanding. And Monika does understand! Because Sayori and Yuri...aren't so different.

Both Sayori and Yuri have this constant preoccupation with the fact that they aren't good enough. Yuri, in particular understands that she's an awkward, deeply weird person, and she can accept that about herself. Everybody seems to have one of a few different reactions to her. Realizing that she's weird, and awkward, and makes people uncomfortable...well, the only reason people must appear to be accepting of her is because they want to make her feel better about herself. To allow them to make themselves uncomfortable, to deal with all of her inability to be a more socially conscious and considerate person...that'd be evil. She'd feel guilty doing that. And the thought that she could be doing that to someone because she doesn't understand that they are just humoring her? That's one of the worst feelings in the world.

As a consequence of all of this, and her constant preoccupation with not doing that, with not taking advantage of another person's kindness, she overcorrects. She assumes that other people can only tolerate her being herself, being who she is, and not actually like her. They're patronizing her to pretend, and so the only way she can truly be accepted is by suppressing herself, or just not even participating.

She thought the Literature Club might be different, but the thing of it is, she is the problem. Not because she's somehow uniquely unlovable or because she's just gotta pull herself together and can't, but because her entire view of the situation is off.

I think a big part of this comes down to Yuri's previous experience with social rejection, which isn't directly detailed here, but is at least tacitly expressed. And I think a lot of this view of herself, as though she's some uniquely socially broken weirdo who will never truly fit in anywhere she goes, and can only find tolerance, not true acceptance, likely in some part comes from that rejection. That's probably why she focuses so much on her own interests, and in talking with people about them online.

That's probably why Yuri wasn't looking for a club that suited her interests at all. And it's why the Literature Club was something she really, really needed.

This...in particular, is why my view of Yuri's whole deal is specifically undiagnosed autism, and it's actually a pretty big part of why the entire thing sort of clicks for me.

Because fun fact! I didn't even have an inkling that I might be autistic until I was 19, despite plenty of evidence. The only reason I'm actually not diagnosed (shock, awe!) is the fact that my parents fought the school board on it so I wouldn't be placed in special ed. That's a whole other conversation, back to my point; A lot of Yuri's reflection on her social struggles is very relatable to me personally, particularly with her difficulties understanding why she is the way she is, and the shame that creates. Not even just in Understanding--a lot of what happens, a lot of what she talks about throughout the Side Stories is something I personally find relatable in a way that's hard to conceptualize for me without tying it to my own autistic experience.

To finish, I'll brush over a few quick thoughts and then talk about the conclusion in Understanding a little.

Both during the conversation with Monika and leading up to her breaking down in tears, Yuri has these sudden little outbursts; things she says before she even realizes she's saying them (This is something that happens in Self-Love, too!), and I just wanted to mention it, since I've done it too, sometimes. I've talked quite a bit before about how Yuri tries to keep a handle on her emotions, but when she does get emotional, things spill out. This is an especially common form of masking ("sometimes, masking is fighting to appear aloof at all times because emotion comes out too strongly to be controlled and expressed in a socially acceptable way"), and this particular kind of emotional outburst and breakdown is something which is a common consequence of it. It's gotta come out at some point, and when you're so used to maintaining that kind of control over yourself, emotional regulation can be especially difficult.

AND THEN SAYORI BRIDGES THE GAP BECAUSE SHE'S THE GOOOOOAAAAAATTTTTT--

ahem.

Sayori bridges the gap because she's the goat. finds her own way to peel back Yuri's walls. Just in time, too...

Creating a path for the two of them to be honest with each other, and (albeit...unintentionally?) preventing her from running away, all but forcing her to take her kindness to heart. Yuri finally just drops all pretenses and lets out all of the thoughts she's had this whole time. Monika created an environment where she could feel safe expressing these thoughts and not feel judged, and convinced Yuri that it would be the same with Sayori. So she's spilling her guts as a part of learning to trust other people. Now that she has, it's on Sayori to finish it, and bridge that gap. Mend the divide.

Yuri's speech, obviously, just reinforces everything I've been saying thus far. She wants to be a normal person, at her core. But she isn't normal. She knows that.

And the reason she's here is because she wants to make more friends...but this hasn't gone at all how she's expected. It hasn't gone to plan at all.

Sayori's here to show her that that's okay. Sometimes, things are messy. People are messy. It's not something that's easy to understand, and that's okay, you don't need to, totally.

And in turn, she shares her own anxieties, her own problems that she's been having, which shocks Yuri. This is another little element of empathy, but more of what I think this represents is self-image vs how others view you. Yuri points out--she did all she could to reassure her! She would never get frustrated with her while they were reading. She knows that.

But Sayori doesn't, and moreover other people can't just peek directly inside your head.

So to get these things across, you need to talk them out. Without communicating with each other, it's impossible to understand each other. People aren't mind readers.

But Yuri, being autistic, needs a great deal more help communicating, both on terms of understanding others, and explaining herself so others can understand. She says herself--she doesn't have good communication, so she needs others willing to reach out a little to bridge that gap, which is what the Literature Club is for.

Oh yeah and Yuri's comment about getting people's consent to be touched makes me chuckle because that's some shit I'd do. You know she was thinking about that from day one but didn't want to be rude about it, and now that they're being honest with one another, she's gotta say it, even just at the end of that huge emotional conversation. That's another point for bluntness.

This has been something I've had in the drafts for months, almost a year by now. It's the last major character analysis type deal I still had outstanding, and I've got piles and piles of notes. I've watched back over Understanding multiple times for material, and I have (as mentioned) multiple unfinished versions of this analysis. I wouldn't call this perfect, but it says most of what I've wanted to say for a while, including referencing most of the other major posts I've made on the subject. I might have more to say on the subject later, I might even correct a few things on this later, but as yet, these are my thoughts. She's got that certified autistic rizz guys

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (28)

***

It feels endless but Vander doesn't let himself think of anything but the next strike, the next crack to work wider, the next boulder to drag out of the rubble. They're both exhausted and it feels like they're getting nowhere, but the growing piles of loose rubble behind them prove otherwise. Vander needs a longer rest between strikes, needs to catch his breath as he rolls out each rock. Luckily, the lantern also keeps overheating, casting them into darkness for minutes at a time and giving them no choice but to push the rubble behind them by feel alone.

Ahead of him, Silco asks, "Do you want the good news or the bad news?" and the tone of his voice makes it clear there is no good news.

"Good news."

"Good news is that we're not going to run out of air in here," Silco says.

Vander looks up but he can't make out anything in this darkness. "What do you mean?"

"Pass me the lantern," Silco says and Vander has to carefully pat the ground around him to find it. When he gives it to Silco, Silco hisses. He must have touched the hot base by mistake.

The light flickers back on, yellow and faded. Silco crawls over to hold the lantern close to the collapsed rubble and points to a small tendril of green-grey gas curling between the lowest rocks. "It's not airtight."

"So what do we do?" Vander asks, watching the Grey slither across the floor. "Keep digging?"

Silco looks as dismayed as Vander feels. "We could always set a charge and hope we don't blow ourselves up."

That tendril of Grey slinks across the floor and then slides to one side of the tunnel, disappearing. "Did you see that?"

Silco crouches and walks over to peer beside Vander. "See what?"

"Watch the Grey," Vander says as another small wisp of smoke comes through the rubble and follows the same path.

Silco reaches down and traces the path with his fingers. Then he turns to Vander with bright, hopeful eyes. "There's a draft. Here."

Clumsy with tiredness, Vander fumbles to release his gauntlets. He finally gets them off and reaches out with bare hands. Silco's right: he can feel a tiny draft tugging at his fingertips.

"There must be a cavern behind there," Silco says, "Maybe an exit."

Vander pulls his gauntlets on again and carefully strikes that exact spot. It takes three hits to crack, and then another two to be able to pull a rock free. There's a gust of air when they do and Silco holds up the lantern to show the empty space behind it. Together, they clear enough space for Silco to shimmy through.

Silco holds a hand out for the lantern, and Vander passes it to him. "Is it a cavern? Big enough to wait out the Grey?"

"I don't know what it is," Silco replies. The space is big enough for his voice to echo and that's good enough for Vander.

"Stand clear," Vander calls out. "I'm going to make this hole wider."

Silco passes back the lantern and then calls when he's clear. Vander strikes the rock again. And again. He still has to turn sideways and work one shoulder through at a time, but he climbs through to the ledge in the largest cavern he's ever seen. When he holds the lantern up he realises it's not a rock ledge – it's not natural. It's been carved, a giant high table carved out of the rock itself, with curved columns and fluted edges.

The cavern itself is so big the lantern doesn't light it all. It has huge columns, reaching from the floor to the soaring roof, carved into smooth curves. The floor is more than a man's height beneath them, but it's smooth and polished. "What is this place?"

"I don't know," Silco says and Vander follows his voice. He's standing at the edge of the table, looking at the far wall.

It's a massive statue. A kind-faced goddess looks down at them, her long hair caught by an unseen breeze.

"Janna?" Vander asks, because he grew up with those stories. All of riverside knows to pray for good winds.

"They always said she watched over the mines. I didn't know they meant it literally."

Tucked away from the edge, there's a set of human sized steps carved into the wall. They follow them down and wander through the space. From this angle, the carved statue smiles down at them. She's beautiful and somehow reassuring.

Vander bows his head to recite the prayers he doesn't believe in, the words his Ma used to recite every morning. Silco doesn't join in but he looks down at his feet and lets Vander finish.

"It doesn't hurt to say thank you," Vander says sheepishly, "just in case that was divine intervention."

Silco nods and they keep exploring by the dwindling light of their lantern. Every surface is covered in fine dirt, like this Place hasn't been touched in decades.

"How old do you think this is?" Vander asks as Silco runs fingers through the dirt on patterns etched into the wall.

"Very old." Gently, Silco traces the pattern again, drawing wide lines in the dust. "Older than the mine. Maybe older than Piltover."

Silco steps back and frowns at the wall. "Does that look like letters to you?"

Vander squints at it. He'd assumed it was just a pattern but it might be letters, letters taller than a yordle. "Are there more?"

They feel along the wall, wiping the dust off the etching. The letters spread out over eight paces, but they feel along the wall until they seem to stop. And then they have to stand back to read it.

"Osha Va…" Silco reads out carefully, "…Zaun."

"What does it mean?"

Silco shrugs. "It's too well done to be graffiti. Maybe it's who the shrine was built for. Or the name of this place. Maybe it means 'exit this way'. We'll never know."

Vander looks around, the ceiling so high it fades into black. It's amazing and eerie, something built for crowds of people who have all been forgotten. "How can nobody know about this?"

"It's been buried for a long time. Too deep for anyone to find. Lost in the dark," Silco says quietly, like this vast, abandoned place deserves to be mourned. "Like everything else that gets buried down here."

Vander reaches for his hand, tangling their fingers together. They both look over when the lantern in his hand starts to flicker again.

They agree to climb back up to the ledge to get some rest. Even if the Grey does leak in here there's no way it could fill up the whole room. They'll be safe above it and they can let the lantern cool down.

Vander carefully places his gauntlets and the lantern against the wall, and then stretches out on his back. He's so exhausted he should fall straight asleep but he finds himself lying there, listening to the wheeze of air moving through the tunnels.

He keeps thinking that it's so big. Hundreds of people must have built this, people who are all long gone now. But once, this place was made with love and care.

Silco rolls over, wrapping his Arms around Vander and commandeering his chest as a pillow. "Go to sleep, Vander."

Somehow that's easier with Silco in his arms, with Silco's slow breaths and steady heartbeat. With Silco's soft hair brushing Vander's cheek.

***

[fushiglow]

10 things I've learned about being a fanfic author over the last year

At the time of writing this post, I have been writing and sharing fanfiction for Jujutsu Kaisen for almost two years. This time last year, my in-progress longfic, Over the Threshold, started to gain popularity and, over the last twelve months, I think it's fair to say I have become somewhat of a BNF in the SatoSugu community... Sigh...

While every creative wants their work to be seen, there is a threshold (ha) past which visibility brings difficulties, and unfortunately I went over it (ha) in recent months. It has changed my fandom experience significantly, and not entirely for the better. While there have been friendships for life forged, beautiful memories I'll carry with me for the rest of my life, and more kind words and fanart than I can shake a stick at, there have also been opportunists, naysayers, and even outright bullies.

Seeing your name thrown around in fandom spaces with little regard for the real person behind the writing — for your character, for your circumstances, for your creative liberty — does force you to re-evaluate your relationship with your work and your audience. With that in mind, I thought I'd share the lessons I've taken from the last year as a fanfic author.

I really hope this serves as advice for any fanfic authors seeking more visibility on their work, and also generally encourages more thoughtful engagement with fandom creators. Let's go!

1. Writing for anyone except yourself is still a bad idea

That doesn't mean it isn't sometimes worth taking reader preferences into account. It's just about knowing when to disregard them. We write fanfiction for lots of different reasons that vary from fic to fic. Sometimes, making other people happy is a good enough reason to write a fic, as long as that's what you set out to do and you're under no illusions about that.

However, letting reader expectations creep into your approach to your other work in a way that doesn't serve your personal creative vision is a bad idea, especially because...

2. People disrespect fanfic authors even more than you thought

There are plenty of kind, supportive people in fandom. However, the unfortunate truth is they are vastly outnumbered by people who will gobble up your work without even taking a moment to say thank you for the meal and who will, in fact, demand more from you instead.

Trying to please entitled people who are impossible to satisfy, who bring nothing of value to your fandom experience, and who may even resort to bullying if you don't play by their ever changing rulebook is a pointless endeavour — so don't bother!

3. Your writing process is a constant work in progress

Because you are a constant work in progress. You can't always expect something that worked for you a year ago to work the same now. There are too many variables in play, not least your skill as a writer. If the stabilisers you put on last year are no longer helping, maybe it's a sign you don't need them anymore. Maybe it's time to take them off and try something new.

I am still planning a more in depth writing process post, but the simple truth is, my writing process can be summed up as...

4. Whatever works!

My main piece of advice when it comes to writing is always going to be, "at some point, you've just got to do it". Sure, there are tools and techniques you can use to aid the process, but ultimately it always comes down to you and the words.

There's no right or wrong way to write, and there's no point comparing your process to someone else's, because ultimately you'll do whatever works for you. Whether you're someone who religiously practises a warm-up routine before sitting down to write or someone who stares at the screen for two months straight before vomiting up a masterpiece whole (or someone like me who jumbles their way through with a slightly different approach every time), it's all good as long as it ends with words on paper.

5. Writing for an audience changes the game

For better and for worse! Having an engaged readership on a WIP has, on occasion, created unique and invaluable opportunities to elevate my work beyond what would have been possible by myself. I'm very grateful for the artist-audience dialogue that I know we all crave when sharing our work with the world but aren't always fortunate enough to experience.

However, being aware of your audience while writing also influences your approach in unhelpful ways, no matter how much you try to get around it. Ensuring that I maintain control of that dialogue (or, at the very least, a 50/50 back and forth) requires constant vigilance.

6. Community is a double edged sword

I think everyone in fandom is seeking community of one kind or another. Building a dedicated community around my writing and seeing real good come of it was an unexpected by-product of sharing my fic with the world, but a deeply rewarding one. However, communities aren't static and they require a collaborative effort to maintain.

Series come to an end, fandom trends shift, people move on. On the flipside, you build something so wonderful that others want to share in its benefits without contributing in meaningful ways. Seeing a community so closely tied to your work and your sense of self shift into something unrecognisable until you start to feel like a stranger in your own space is very hard. Furthermore, managing a community in a dedicated forum takes significant time and energy which could be spent writing, which is why...

7. The most successful fanfic authors are selfish

What I mean by "successful" is up to you. However, whether it's replying to comments, supporting fellow creatives in the fandom, or even tagging work for discoverability, some authors disregard anything that prevents them from getting words onto the page. Some people are here to post their shit and leave — and more power to them.

The more of yourself you offer, the more people come to expect until, eventually, the already generous act of writing thousands of words for your fandom becomes the bare minimum. This is often where the topic of "fandom etiquette" comes up, but fanfic authors are already taking on a disproportionate share of the burden simply by sharing their work in the first place. Anything beyond that is a courtesy we are not obligated to extend. We should thank authors who thoughtfully choose to extend those courtesies anyway, rather than vilifying them when they don't.

8. Guarding your enjoyment is paramount

If, like me, you're an author who does enjoy being an active member of the fandom community, then it's important to watch out for the myriad of things that can come between you and your stories. Fandom politics, or even just fandom trends, can have a huge influence on your relationship with the characters that originally inspired you.

However, what other people are doing with them doesn't need to have any bearing on what you choose to do with them if you don't want it to. Responding to fandom trends in your writing can be satisfying, but maintaining a degree of separation between wider fandom and the stories that really matter to you is crucial, I think. That being said...

9. Collaboration feeds creativity

Some beautiful moments have been born from throwing an idea back and forth with my fellow fans. Simple things can rapidly snowball into territory you would never usually set foot in, and expanding your creative horizons like that can only ever be a good thing! Being open with your ideas in fandom spaces is always a bit of a worry, but the reward for extending that trust far outweighs the risk in my experience.

Additionally, I think we get caught up in the idea of absolute originality, but if you're active in fandom, you're always taking inspiration from your fellow creatives. Freely crediting the people who have inspired me has only ever brought wonderful things my way, and I've even gone on to develop collaborative relationships with some of them. Fandom is more fun with other people!

10. But ultimately, writing is lonely work

No matter how many friendships you forge, you still have to retreat into solitude to write the damn story eventually. Writing doesn't lend itself to active human connection as much as art or music. You can chat to someone while drawing or play an instrument alongside another person, but when you're writing, you have to go it alone.

And the worst part? Even when you eventually share your story with the world, no one will ever care about it as much as you do. Writing is such a deeply lonely experience most of the time, I think — which is why it's so important to hold onto all the things that make it worthwhile.

And that's that! I have been stewing on all of these thoughts privately, but I wanted to share them in case they're of value to someone. I tried to keep it as measured as possible, but I acknowledge that I'm in a bit of a bitter headspace about fandom in light of the Discourse TM and subsequent harassment over Christmas.

I don't think it will stop me writing stories for this fandom, but I do think it will make me more guarded in my interactions with the wider community, and I think that's a shame. I joined this fandom as a fan first and a creator second, and I'm deeply sad to feel like some of the parts I used to enjoy most are no longer accessible to me.

This experience has certainly got me thinking more critically about the trend of fandom creators seemingly becoming more distant as they gain popularity. The word "arrogant" is often thrown around, but I think it's much more likely that taking a less active role in fandom spaces isn't as much a choice as it is a necessary measure for the sake of wellbeing and even safety.

Fascinating in a sort of sick way.