#I hope he falls in love and I hope it hurts him

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

You hate Logan but you have a child together

You had a complicated relationship with your Logan. When he first came to the mansion the two of you hit off immediately. The typical good girl bad guy dynamic, but there always a layer of Logan you couldn't quite get to. He wanted to be with you, but he didn't want to do the work in order to keep you. He struggled with being emotionally vulnerable and you were the complete opposite. You told him you felt, you spoke through misunderstandings with him, and you were always there to listen. To try get any piece of your lover that you could. But after years of begging Logan to love you, when you told him you were in love with him. He said he was not, and that was the end of your relationship.

Or so you thought. Because your relationship couldn't end that easily, but you discovered you were pregnant. Logan tried to make things back to normal, but you rejected him at every turn. He hadn't ever wanted to hurt you, but as he realized your unrelenting anger, he knew he did. He knew that you cried when you were alone, that you'd start going to therapy again. That being pregnant with Logan's child was literally the last thing he thought you wanted. Maybe before when you were together when Logan wasn't confronted on being a coward.

He calls this karma, watching you go to Jean and Scott for support instead of him. Watching you grow progressively more pregnant with his child, and he couldn't hold you or kiss you. Logan thought about leaving, it was he had done so many times before. Even when the two of you were together, he'd leave for long periods of time. Breaking your heart over and over again but coming back asking for forgiveness. You'd given him so many chances and he had wasted them on being a brainless dick.

Little did you know how hard it was not to run back to him, not to give him to his promises. But you couldn't trust that he was going to come through for you. You didn't have any doubts about your child together, you knew that you meant something to him. You'd hope that his anxiety wouldn't pull him away from his own child. Because you knew he'd be a good dad, the way he was with Rogue, always checking in on her, making sure Bobby was being respectful. He loved her like a daughter, and you only hopped he could love your child the same.

Logan was going to have to be a part of your life no matter what now, or so you hoped. There was a hope in Logan that when your daughter was born that you would accept him again. He'd plan to tell you he loved you, that'd he give anything to you, that he'd wait for forever. It took him 9 months to grow the guts to do it.

It was a no brainer when he had their baby in his arms, you laying in the med-bay, he'd never seen you so tired but so happy. "Y/n." He murmured, looking over at you with his soft eyes. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you made eye contact with him. "I'm sorry for letting you down, I-I want to give you everything, I-I loved you for so long, I've just been too scared to say anything." He admitted, wearing his heart on his sleeve for once in his life.

You felt tears well up in your eyes at the pang in your chest, you shook your head as you looked away. "I-I can't risk it, Logan. Getting hurt by you-." You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I can't do it again, and I can't focus on you anymore and how you make me feel, I gotta focus on our girl, make sure she has the life she's supposed to."

Logan didn't say anything as he looked back down at his daughter, a shaky sigh falling from his mouth as he tried to keep the tears welling up in his eyes at bay. He didn't think he would cry if you said no, but Logan also thought you would forgive him. "I uh-I wanna name her Hazel."

"Yeah?" He grinned over at you, even just the slimmest of hope fluttering in his chest. You also spoke about his hazel eyes; it was one of your favorite things about him. Even if you didn't consciously pick it because of him, he had given him the glimmer of hope he needed to completely devote himself to you and Hazel.

Logan didn't confess anymore feelings or push you to be with him. But you grew rather annoyed by his presence always a reminder of something you wanted desperately but whenever you got it hurt you. It was like the apple that you wanted so desperately but everything was telling you to not grab the apple, don't eat it. Don't give into those green eyes and that handsome smile. Try not to focus when he was talking in that almost condescending way while his eyes flitted up and down your body. This man had no shame in showing you how much he loved you, by teasing, poking, antagonizing. But also being the first one to show up when you were overwhelmed with Hazel or you were just having a rough time. He didn't need to ask, he just did.

Being so agonizing good with your daughter that it was hard not to fold when he was such a good man. But instead of giving him a chance, you only pushed him away more, complaining about the littlest things and not giving Logan the benefit of the doubt. When Hazel wasn't around, it was you calling him some name and trying to start an argument with him.

But it was hard to act like a bitch when you saw your one and half year old on Logan's hip while he made her breakfast. It was his morning to take care of her, but you'd waken up early so you went for some coffee. "Morning beautiful." Logan grinned at you, you were suer he said those things to purposely piss you off. You ignored him as usual coming up to Hazel and kissing her cheek.

"Good morning love bug." You murmured to her, as she grinned over at you before putting a kiss on your own cheek. Logan gazed over at the two of you, imagines of you calling him that nickname, 'Love bug'. You'd explained to him how much that nickname actually meant to you, how it was favorite term of endearment. Something that you called him for a long time. He just wished it would be directed at him one day, one day he'd regain your trust again, right?

Logan wasn't a patient man.

But he was patient for his girls.

Notes: angsty moment here lmao got this idea last night just didn't have time to write it. hope you enjoy! lmk if you want a part 2

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland

[ninjatrashpanda]

(Please say to Me) You'll let Me be your Man

Written for @bucktommypositivityweek Round 2! Day 3 is "Missing Moments." Read on AO3 here!

“So, what is your coffee order, anyway?” Evan asked, lightly bumping his shoulder against Tommy’s. He was smiling that brilliant, adorable smile that Tommy already could feel himself falling for, (He felt like a teenager, and found himself genuinely enjoying it. Maybe there was something to that Katy Perry song after all.) which almost made him a bit weak in the knees.

“Black, no sugar.”

“Ah, okay. So that’s a red flag.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, feigning shock as he nudged Evan back, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “A red flag? Just because I don’t drown my coffee in cream and sugar?”

Evan laughed, the sound light, warming Tommy up from the inside. They were strolling down the street, neither of them having been willing to part ways after their coffee conversation. (Coffee date? Had it been a date? Had it turned into a date after they had cleared the air?) The sky was a soft, sunny blue, the kind that was usual for Los Angeles, but no less beautiful, and the gentle breeze blowing around them was just cool enough to counter the swelling California heat.

Tommy honestly could get used to this, could see himself settling down with Evan (and maybe that was a little hasty, considering that this was only their second date, but hey, he was forty and wasn’t getting any younger), and honestly, that thought excited him. After he came out, he’d at first thrown himself into the casual sex scene, Grindr profile and all. He’d already been in his early thirties by that point and figured he should make up for lost time. Plus, dating as a firefighter-slash-rescue pilot was a pain anyway. If there was one thing he’d never lied about during his Closet Era™, it was that while his scars attracted people, him getting them freaked people out. It had been true for the women he tried dating in his twenties, and it was true for the few men he occasionally tried to actually build something with inbetween hookups and friends with benefits situations.

But as the years went by, Tommy had started to yearn. He'd found himself longing for something real, something steady, something with someone he could see himself getting married to and maybe even raise a kid or two. Someone who understood what his job meant to him, who could handle knowing that every day bore a risk, who didn’t try to talk him into switching careers.

Someone who could see past the tough firefighter persona and not get weirded out by the guy loving RomComs, monster trucks and craft beer.

Evan seemed like that kind of guy. He was a fellow first responder after all, so he knew first hand how deep the commitment to the job could run, and right from the beginning, he’d just seemed so genuine and sincere that Tommy hadn’t been able to help the butterflies in his stomach. Of course, he had also thought Evan was cute pretty much right away (Just like a teenager. Katy Perry was actually a prophet.) but had brushed it off at first. There’d been more pressing matters at hand, never mind that he’d figured Evan was straight.

Even after they’d kissed for the first time, Tommy hadn’t allowed himself to get his hopes up. He’d been in these situations before, where things just looked right on paper only to crash and burn shortly after, and when Evan had very decidedly not been ready for a relationship with another man at their first date, well, Tommy had been able to shrug it off. Good thing he hadn't gotten overly attached, or Evan shoving him back into the closet the way he did would’ve hurt a lot more than that single, sharp sting in his chest that it had been.

When Evan had called him and asked to meet so they could clear the air, Tommy’s first thought was to decline. It had been less than a week, and it was bound to be awkward. But then he’d figured he kind of owed it to Evan to hear him out, and it had somehow ended with Tommy being Evan’s date to his sister’s wedding.

“Yes, actually, being a coffee demon is a red flag,” Evan said, wiggling his eyebrows with a smirk. “Everybody knows that those who drink it black are super pretentious. I bet you post on Facebook about all the young whippersnappers ruining coffee with syrup and whipped cream.”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head at Evan’s quip. This was another thing he more than appreciated about Evan, his sense of humor, and the casual way he managed to make Tommy feel welcome. Tommy liked to think himself quite sociable, that he could make people comfortable with him, but Evan was in a whole other league in that regard. He seemed to have some kind of aura that put people at ease.

"Oh, you caught me," Tommy said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "Every morning, I log on and rage-post about how the youth of today don’t appreciate the subtle notes of bitterness in a proper brew and how society will crumble over it. It's part of my morning ritual."

Evan laughed again, the sound washing over Tommy like warm summer rain. It was amazing, really, how easily Evan’s presence filled up all the little spaces that Tommy hadn’t even realized were empty. “Besides,” he continued, patting Evan on the shoulder, which caused a pink blush to spread over his cheeks. “Chimney told me about one of your red flags. You don’t watch movies?!”

Evan scrunched up his nose and playfully shoved Tommy. “Hey, that’s not a red flag, it’s just… a quirk. Every time I sit down to watch a movie, I just get bored and want to do something else.” Then, with a slight smile, he added, “Unless I have the right kind of company.”

Tommy felt his heart do a little flip at that, a warmth spreading through him that was both unfamiliar and strangely comforting. Evan didn’t really like movies, but he wanted to watch them anyway. With him. Together. Probably cuddled together so close they’d be about to fuse into a single person. It took all of Tommy’s willpower to not throw Evan over his shoulder and carry him to the nearest movie theater.

“Oh, so now it’s up to me to educate you, huh?” he teased instead, nudging Evan again. He could already imagine it: the two of them on a couch, a bowl of popcorn between them, his arm around Evan’s shoulders, the two of them laughing or crying or raging over some silly RomCom Tommy would undoubtedly choose. (Not ‘Love Actually’ yet. Evan had to experience that movie during Christmas time, under a warm, cozy blanket with massive cups of hot chocolate with marshmallows.)

“I mean, you brought it up,” Evan said, his grin softening, eyes meeting Tommy’s with an earnestness that made Tommy’s breath hitch. “Plus, you actually know where to start. I’d have no idea.”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief at how easily Evan could tease him and be earnest all at once. It was this effortless mix of playfulness and sincerity that drew Tommy in. He'd spent so long compartmentalizing his own life—work, family, dating—and here was Evan, breezing into his world with the potential to make everything feel seamless.

“Alright, I’ll pick a good one for next time. Prepare for your mind to be blown,” Tommy said, his tone light but his gaze lingering on Evan’s face. He let the moment stretch, comfortable in the shared silence as they continued their walk. The city bustled around them, but it felt like they were in their own little bubble, untouchable by the noise and chaos of everyday life.

Evan smiled back, a soft, almost shy smile that made Tommy’s heart stutter, and tentatively reached out to Tommy’s hand, but then quickly pulled back at the slightest brush of their fingers. The contact was brief, but long enough for Tommy to feel a jolt of electricity run through his body. Evan, red-faced, cleared his throat. “I, uh, I’ll hold you to that. But just so you know, I’m picky.”

“Noted,” Tommy said, trying to sound casual, but he couldn’t help the way his voice softened. He hadn’t even thought about it, but now that it had almost happened, he really wanted to hold Evan’s hand. He fought the urge to grab it though. Evan had said he wasn’t sure what he was ready for. Showing PDA with a man might’ve been too much. “We can hold hands. You know, if you want to.”

Evan looked up, eyes widening slightly as if Tommy had read his mind. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between Tommy’s face and the space between them, before slowly extending his hand again. This time, Tommy met him halfway, their fingers brushing once more before finally interlocking. Evan’s grip was tentative at first, like he was still testing the waters, but when Tommy gave a gentle squeeze, Evan relaxed, his thumb brushing lightly against Tommy’s knuckles.

Tommy’s heart raced, and he could feel the slightest tremor in Evan’s hand. It was a small gesture in theory, but Tommy knew that this was monumental for Evan. He had only just discovered and come to terms with his sexuality, and had completely freaked out just a few days ago when their first date had been crashed by his best friend. Holding hands with another man in public was big for him.

“You good?” Tommy asked softly, glancing sideways at Evan. He tried to sound casual, but there was an edge of vulnerability in his voice. He needed to know that this was okay, that Evan was comfortable and not pushing himself too far too fast.

Evan nodded, his cheeks still flushed but his smile genuine. “Yeah, I’m good. Better than good, actually.” He took a deep breath, as if he was trying to solidify the moment in his mind, etching the feeling of their joined hands into his memory. “It’s…nice. Really nice.”

Tommy felt a swell of affection that almost took him by surprise. This was new territory for both of them, and it was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. He was used to charging headfirst into danger, running into burning buildings and flying into storms, but this, this simple act of holding Evan’s hand, felt like the bravest thing he’d done in a long time. It was vulnerable and honest, and it was everything Tommy had been afraid to hope for.

They continued their walk, the rhythm of their footsteps syncing as if their bodies had quietly agreed on a shared pace. The sun wandered further across the sky, casting long shadows that danced across the pavement, and Tommy couldn’t help but steal glances at Evan. He was struck by how natural this felt, like they’d been doing it for years, like they hadn’t literally just talked about how they didn’t really know each other maybe an hour ago. Tommy wondered if he should count this as a sign. He didn’t even believe in God, or any other deity, but still. The universe telling him he was doing something right was a nice thought.

Evan glanced up, catching Tommy’s eye, and gave him a sheepish smile. “You keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking you like me.”

Tommy snorted, squeezing Evan’s hand again. “Oh, I’m pretty sure it’s more than just ‘like’ at this point. But don’t get ahead of yourself, alright? We’ve still got a whole list of red flags to go through. Might be a dealbreaker or two in there.”

Evan chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and something warmer, deeper. “I think I’m willing to risk it,” he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the hum of the city around them. “Besides, we’ve got time, right?”

Tommy nodded, feeling the weight of those words settle into his chest. They did have time, and it was a luxury Tommy wasn’t used to indulging in. His job was unpredictable, and he’d seen too many lives cut short, too many futures that never got a chance to be. But here and now, with Evan’s hand in his, the future felt like something he could reach out and touch, something he could build, slowly but surely, step by step.

“Yeah. We’ve got time.”

[daenysx]

hello lovely! for your cinnamon girl sleepover, can i request a fic with sirius black (preferably older sirius) where he comforts the reader after she's just come back from a mission and is sort of startled. she doesn't want to admit the fact that she's shaken up, since she doesn't want sirius to worry about her (they are still friends), but eventually she does give in and it's just a lot of awkward mutual pinning and unresolved tension.

feel free to ignore if it doesn't hit your creative spot! hope you have a great day/night ahead! happy fall! 🍂

happy fall, angel, i hope you enjoy <3333

sirius black x fem!reader

sirius thinks he'd really love to wrap his arm on your shoulders the moment you step inside.

you have this way of keeping people around you calm with your face expressions, you don't let them see how you feel no matter how bad the situation is. you need to deal with things by yourself before opening up, maybe even you don't realize you do this.

for sirius though, it's not hard to look into your eyes and see what's going on behind them. you sit by yourself outside after saying your good nights to everyone, your thin sweater barely functions in the september chill. you don't mind. sirius knows you don't wear an extra layer just to feel something.

it doesn't stop him from getting his jacket and walking towards you. you lift your head, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. he smiles back with a wink, always the charmer. you let him sit next to you, he puts the jacket on your shoulders. it's covered by his scent, you take a second to close your eyes and inhale without making it obvious.

"everything okay?" sirius asks, his face turned to yours. you nod. "sure. you heard the mission went well."

oh, yeah, the mission. he cares less about the mission and more about the slight wrinkle between your eyebrows right now. it looks like a kiss would help it loosen up, sadly he's not brave enough to do it just yet.

"yeah, it's- we're all glad it went well." he says, dismissing the topic. "you just seem a bit- unlike yourself."

"it's okay, sirius." you say. "i'll look like myself in the morning after i get some sleep. maybe you should do that too, it's getting late."

sweetest thing he's ever seen, how can he stop himself from leaning his face a bit more to yours? he curls his lips into a soft smile, the one he reserves only for you. he should've made you a cup of tea. he worries more than he wants to show.

"am i that boring?" he teases. "you're trying to send me away so quick, it hurts my feelings."

"come on." you shake your head. "um- you know you don't have to worry about me, right?"

"i'm not sure, darling, do i know that?"

when sirius looks at you like the way he does now, his pretty eyes wide open and his lips almost smirking, you know it's the sight you'll never get out of your head. there are many stars above the sky, and here you are, sitting next to your own star. the breeze is soft against his long hair, he keeps the eye contact going. you can feel your own eyes looking at him with a fondness you can't stop.

thankfully, he's looking at you with the same emotions. you know he won't say anything about it, though. you won't either. "thank you." you say, genuinely. "i think i'm just a bit shocked. i'll be better in the morning."

sirius slides himself closer to you. you accept his half hug, he's doing it so well. his long arm covers your shoulders, securing the jacket on your back. you sit in silence, take in the way his heart beats. you think you could survive any and every mission just to keep hearing it beat.

cinnamon girl sleepover ♡

[gossippool]

I've fallen hard for poolverine and I've read and loved your fic, do you have any fic recs you can share pretty please?

hi anon i do indeed!! i've been meaning to do a rec list eventually so thank u for asking. here are some fics out of the 14 i have bookmarked

twice upon an odyssey by lkst (E, 6k)

It would be tempting to say the propensity for physical violence in their relationship is gone, but nothing is created or destroyed, it would seem. While the urge to kill each other has faded it’s translated into tension between them hot and wet enough to grow orchids, and it’s taken the willpower of gods to keep them from fucking nasty about it. They're managing. The thing is, Wade doesn’t want to manage anymore. Wade drags Logan out on a little heist hoping to finally get him to make a move.

one of my favourites!! this is mostly smut but also some of the best characterisation of wade i've ever read and SO FUNNY. i giggled through the whole thing. sometimes humour in fics falls flat but not this time

deadpool/wolverine series by farmhandler (11k + 46k+)

i feel like recommending this series is a must tbh. only two fics in here so far and the second one is still updating but both are just. SO good. the first one is more wade-and-his-issues-centric and the second is more logan

tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow by signifier (E, 10k)

The one where Wade gets stuck in a time loop, and he's determined to get Logan out of it alive.

time loop fics are so hard to execute well and this was just perfect. typical emotional toll of being stuck in a time loop is taken on wade so there's Angst

movin' out (deadpool's song) by jenniferlawrencelover (E, 36k)

Wade wasn't fond of change. Both in the life sense as well as the coin sense. So they might have to move houses? Okay. Sure, his tummy hurt a little more than usual when he thought too hard about it, but he could move past that. Would move past that. Eventually. Probably. Most likely not. Probably not at all. Wade didn't do change.

GODDDD i love this fic. it is so gorgeously written i think i have some parts screenshotted which is how you know it's good. brilliant exploration of both wade and logan

where soul meets body by edgebug (E, 34k)

In which something very interesting happens underneath the Time Ripper, and Wade and Logan deal with the aftermath.

no idea how to explain this but their minds kind of get intertwined??? ish?? and it's so fucking good the writing is just impeccable. angst and smut galore

guess by handfulofteeth (E, 16k)

Logan stops talking. He’s mid-chide, tossing his soiled paper towel onto the counter and about to reach for another one when his eyes land on Wade. He’s got his pajamas halfway down his thighs, clearly trying to avoid sticking his fingers all over the gooey fabric, and whatever, that on its own isn’t a big deal...What is a big deal, a huge, massive fucking deal, is what Wade’s wearing underneath his pajamas. Panties.

now this may seem like it's mostly smut and you would be right. but it is goddamn good smut (with a dash of angst) and just such an alluring read. their other fics are also just as good

[fictionismyreality3]

Hi first off just wanted to say I absolutely love your work! But please remember to take care of yourself and have plenty of water and Food and please remember to take breaks 🫶

Anyways I was wondering if I could req a fic where Jason finds out his s/o is an Ex-Criminal who's trying really hard not to fall back into old habits but is struggling because these guys keep harrasing them to become a criminal again

Mm just gonna take this :D -🎧

Better off Before You

Jason Todd x Reader

Tags: boyfriend!jason todd, ex-criminal!reader, established relationship, kinda controlling!jason todd idk, angst but it gets resolved at the end

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, violence, crime, drugs, weapons like knives and guns, arson, sexual assault 🤨

Notes: I gagged writing this 😩 sorry to all the Jefferey’s out there I just think Jeff is a creepy name. Kinda put a spin on the req hope that’s okay ☺️

34 stitches, 18 hours, and 1 bullet.

That’s what you’d scarified to get the life you had now. You’d done your time, and spent the hours necessary to detach yourself from your previous life and associates.

You had a lot to be grateful for and you knew that. It wasn’t like you were waking up everyday selfishly forgetting where you came from. That seemed impossible with the way the bullet was still lodged under the skin of your hip. But you were happy. You had a good life now and you were happy.

When you met Jay, you used to go by a different name, and when you thought about it, you were really a different person. But he pushed you. He wasn’t like those other self righteous hero’s you so often found yourself running from. He told it like it was, and he didn’t care if he hurt your feelings when he spoke. And back then, that’s something you needed desperately.

“You look like shit.”

Rolling your eyes, you wiped your lips, spitting the blood that had pooled in your mouth onto the gum covered pavement.

“You’re not exactly looking your best either, Red.” You drawled, eying the tall form of Jason Todd as he stalked down the alley towards you. “Yeah, well, it’s been one of those days.” He shrugged.

“Cortez?” Jason threw out there as he tucked his pistols away and got ready for a fist fight.

“No, Romero this time. You know what the buyers are like.”

Rain fell around you as you struck Jason in the stomach, his body expertly maneuvering to the side so he could grab your leg when you tried to throw a kick at him. Soon you were on your back, hitting at the inside of his elbow to push him off you. A well timed bite to shoulder and kick in the nuts let you escape.

That was 2 years ago.

Some days you almost wished you’d lost that fight, it would have made getting out from under your bosses thumb a lot easier had you been thrown in jail. You ended up having to do it the hard way. First breaking things off with Cortez, he was a squealer, especially when you pulled a few fingernails to reinforce he wouldn’t come after you.

Romero was harder. The man had a good few hundred men and women working for him. He practically ran the entire drug scene on the east end of Gotham. You used to be one of his best. It was a slightly demeaning work, being the person whose sole job was to ensure rich, high society people got their pill fix for the week, but it payed well. The only way you managed to get out was by knocking off his men one by one till you got to the top.

To him.

But Jay helped you, and you did it, even if it did leaving you with a permanent reminder in the flesh of your hip. There was no immediate way for Romero build back his little empire, and you allowed yourself to relax over the years, even getting to the point where Jason and you would run missions for Bruce.

Which is why this had to be a one time thing.

“Eh, c’mon pretty. Let’s not keep the boss waiting.”

How you found yourself back on the radar of the man you were trying so hard to distance yourself from seemed to be a sick joke from the universe. All it took was one wrong decision and you’d slipped right back into your old life like you’d never left. It wasn’t that you wanted to, but at this point, you didn’t have a choice.

You were sloppy. Normally you made sure to never take any jobs related to the underground drug rings so as to avoid spotted. But you didn’t do your research, and one bust got you noticed by one of Romero’s men who got away. That was all it took for him to go ratting back to his boss, who now held a massive grudge against you for how long it took him to regain power.

You fought hard when they found you again. The skin of your attackers still sat underneath your fingernails.

But you weren’t a super, you didn’t have powers or years of extreme training like Jay. You were just a girl who grew up on the wrong side of town, and chloroform wasn’t exactly easily avoided.

Scanning your surroundings, you tried to memorize the route of winding hallways you were being dragged through. The smell of gasoline and booze hung in the air, making your nose scrunch in disgust. Being pushed through a set of heavy metal doors, you found yourself face to face with the beady eyes of Jefferey Romero.

“You know, I’ve thought a lot about what I would say,” he began, standing up from the crusty folding chair he was sitting in. “When I saw you again.” Two men came and held your arms behind your back, their grip tight despite your struggling. “But all I can think about is how pathetic you look.”

One grubby hand reached up to clutch your chin, his fingers digging into your skin while he surveyed your face. The other reached down and squeezed at your ass.

“Fuck you.” You spat.

Driving your knee up, you kicked him as hard as you could in the dick, relishing the whiny noise of pain he made as he fell to his knees. Deciding to use the opportunity, you spat on him, but by then more of his men came to hold you still.

“You’re just as feisty as I remember too.” He coughed and brushed himself off. Getting back up, with a slight limp he came to stand in front of you. “You cost me a lot of money, you know.” Romero licked his lips. “It took me years to get it back.” He thread his fingers through your hair, yanking your head harshly to the side. “That’s why you’re gonna do me a little favour, bitch.”

You scoffed, wanting nothing more than to wrap your hands around his neck and choke him to death. “I’m not doing jack shit for you.” Romero let out a sneering laugh.

“Oh, but you will. Because I have this.”

As he held out his hand, your eyes darted down to the little enamel pin resting in his palm.

Your tongue was heavy in your mouth.

“What do you need?”

Jason wasn’t a great boyfriend when it came to his protectiveness. Knowing the life you’d came from, and how you two literally met when you were running from the cops, he was constantly worried about keeping you safe. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, he just wanted you to have the life you deserved.

Because he knew you deserved so much.

Fiddling with the string of his hoodie, he tried to stay focused on whatever random ass tv show was on. Pressing the material to his nose, he took a deep breath. Your perfume filled his lungs and he felt dizzy and relieved at the same time. It had only been a few hours since you left to go get some groceries, but the time away was killing him.

Clingy was a word he liked to pretend didn’t exist, but with the way you’d been acting for the last few weeks, he was getting more and more reluctant to let you out of his sight. Bruises that you’d brush off as you being clumsy, scrapes lining your knees, even the way your eyes were seemingly darting around to look for a threat that wasn’t there. All of it was beginning to leave a sour taste in Jason’s mouth.

Normally, he would never do anything to invade your privacy, but the nagging feeling in the back of his head wouldn’t let him drop it. Rustling through drawer after drawer, Jason searched from the objects that would confirm his suspicions. Cursing under his breath, he mumbled a few prayers that this wasn’t what he thought it was as he moved to your half of the closet.

Pushing the clothes to the side, his eyes got stuck on the red dress he’d bought you, and he had to clench his fists from punching the wall when he saw what was lying in the shoebox behind it.

Your knives.

The same knives he’d taken from you when you first started to change the way you were living. The same knives he’d hidden from you to help you transition. The same knives that were sitting there, clearly having been recently polish, laughing at him as they glinted in the light. The sound of the front door ripped him from his stupor.

“Hey, Jay. I got those chips you like-” Your words died on your tongue as you came face to face with a very angry Jason Todd, standing in the living room, holding a reminder of your past.

“What the fuck is this, huh?” He ground out, holding knives out with a shaking hand. “I promise, it’s not what it looks like.” You began quickly. Letting out a huff of tightly contained anger, Jason stormed up to you, grabbing you by the wrists and sending your shopping bags to the floor.

“Not what it looks like?” He scoffed. “No, I-”

“Because to me, it sure fucking looks like you’re working again.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared up into the now swirling blue-green eyes of the one man who never left. “You don’t understand.” You tried to plead. Throwing the knives to the floor, Jason backed you up against the front door, his hands caging you against the wood. “I don’t understand?” He hissed. “I risked my ass when I asked Bruce to cover your bail.”

The pressure of your rapidly beating heart was barely being held in by your ribcage. “Jay, you can’t understand.”

Jason swore he felt a tooth crack with how hard he was clenching his jaw. There hadn’t been a lot of instances where he’d felt truly hurt in his life, not before you. He always kept himself too closed off for that. But now? Now the small sliver of worth you had given him felt like it was being doused in salt and vodka.

“Then make me understand, baby.” Jay pleaded. “I can’t let you do this to yourself.” He hated the way his voice cracked.

All at once you were overcome with the urge to tell him everything, to fall into his arms and cry to him about how Romero had found where your sister went to university, and how you might not have talked to her in years but you still couldn’t let her die.

But your mouth didn’t open.

And Jason could only drop his hands to his sides and take a step back from you.

“Where the fuck having you been goin’ for the last 3 weeks?” He said disbelieving. “I don’t even know who you are anymore!” Wiping the tear you didn’t realize was forming, took a deep breath and steeled yourself.

“I’ll tell you when it’s over.”

All his years of experience, the instincts and reaction times he’d had trained into him, seemed to vanish as he watched you turn on your heel and leave. Standing frozen for a moment, Jason stared at the handle of the door, as if his gaze would somehow cause it to turn and you to come back.

“Fuck.” He snarled, whipping around to leave a fist sized hole in the wall.

One more job.

One more job and then this would all be over.

That’s what you kept telling yourself. The words got repeated over and over again in your mind as you stepped out into the streets of Gotham and began walking towards where you were stashing your things. The words echoed into the foggy air as you mumbled to yourself, changing into your district clothes and heading to the target Romero sent you.

They acted as a sort of prayer to who ever was listening. A plea, for all of this mess to somehow how straighten itself out, and for you to be forgiven as you hurled the bottle of alcohol and flames at the cargo truck you’d been ordered to destroy.

The fire danced across the surface of the truck until the whole thing burst into a ball of heat. You don’t know what was in it or why Romero wanted it gone, and you didn’t ask. You didn’t want to know. All you felt like doing was crumbling into the pavement and disappearing into one of the cities many potholes so you never had to show your face again.

It was nearly impossible for Jason to keep from destroying the apartment. Every item of furniture you’d picked out together sat like a reminder. He’d been the one to get you off the streets. He’d been the one to show you that there were people who cared about more than their next hit or how to get money. He’d been the one to help you get free.

And now he had failed you.

Jason sat on the couch, slumped forward with his head in his hands. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Really, everything was wrong, but something about the way you left felt odd. There was this look in your eye, the same one he saw the first time you’d met when he cornered you after the police slacked off at their jobs. A look of fear.

Not towards him. He could still remember it plain as day. It was more a look of dread, like you were worried about the consequences of getting caught and not the scary guy in the red mask who caught you. Like you were dreading someone finding out. Just thinking about it made his stomach churn. Although he was absolutely livid, he couldn’t stand seeing you in fear because he loved you.

He loved you.

“What the fuck am I doin’ just sitting here?”

When you got back to the seedy building near the docks, you were let in instantly by two of Romero’s men. The winding hallways of his new building had reluctantly become a familiar sight after spending the last 3 weeks running errands for him. But now your debt was paid, and you could get to tell Jay everything.

The same set of heavy metal doors that seemed to unlock a world you tried so desperately to forget opened once more, and you were once again standing in front of the man who used you. Putting out his cigarette, Jeffery Romero sauntered his way over to you.

“It’s done. The truck’s gone.” You spoke first. “I did my half of the bargain, so don’t you dare touch my sister.” With a thoughtful look that was clearly exaggerated, he looked you over, walking a circle around you. “I’ll admit, you weren’t as useless as I remembered.” The beady-eyed man snickered. Your hands were clenching, fingernails digging into your palms. “I might even take you back to work for me.”

“I’d never fucking work for you.”

His eyes narrowed, a dark smile curling across his lips. “That’s a shame,” He said nonchalantly. “Because you know too much now to be kept alive.”

As if waiting for their cue, the men who’d been leaning against the walls or playing poker and pretending not to listen pounced on you. Hands were tugging you in every which way, some tearing at your clothes as they shoved you to your knees. With a surge of adrenaline, you went down kicking and screaming, biting and pushing back against anyone who touched you. All the while Romero sat and watched, lighting another cigarette.

Glass shattered as the windows got kicked in. People were screaming. A gun went off. Again. And then again. And slowly, working through the shock, your mind caught up to process the image of Jason blowing the heads off of everyone around you, their brains splattering onto the walls and floor.

Letting out a practically feral noise, you lunged at Romero, shoving him to the ground and pounding your fists down into his face over and over again. Your vision was blurry, partly from your tears and partly from the blood that was spraying onto your face every time you brought your hand down. But you couldn’t stop. You busted his lip for your sister. You shattered his nose for the peace you’d fought for.

And you broke his jaw just for you.

Two strong arms were tugging you off the now lifeless body, and your face was pressed into a broad chest. Taking the first breath you’d been able to in 3 weeks, you got a lungful of Jason and you sobbed like a little baby. The hiss of his mask coming off barely registered in your mind.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, hey you’re- fuck, princess it’s okay.” He cooed and ran his gloved fingers through your hair. “It’s over. It’s over.”

“I should have-” You tried to speak but all that came out was a strangled gasping noise. Jason was wiping the blood off your face, pressing kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose. “I should have told you.” You blubbered, clutching at the leather of his jacket. He didn’t even know what you were talking about, or how you got dragged into all this mess, but right now, he didn’t care. “M’not going anywhere, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me.”

“I’m always gonna stay.”

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Sep 18th

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1. Hi! I don't know if this has been asked before but I'm looking for a fic. It had multiple chapters and might have been mostly from LWJ POV. (spoilers for the fic basically) I only remember clearly that in one of the later chapters it is revealed that WWX took the fall for JC who had set off a cigar fire. Thank you!

FOUND! Nursery Rhymes by manaika (M, 96k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Inexperienced WWX, Experienced LWJ, Reconciliation, Budding Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Unreliable Narrator, Medical Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, Past Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Found Family, Past Injury, Nurse! WWX, Doctor! LXC, Teacher! LWJ, Character With A Heart Condition (Major), Past Incarceration (Major Character), Underage Character With Leukemia (Minor))

NOT FOUND! Insert Coin Now for Extra Life by TriviasFolly (E, 201k, wangxian, modern, ABO, Intersex Omegas, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Marriage contract au, Twitch Streamer WWX, fluff and smut, caring for other while sick, Possessive LWJ, Rare Male Omegas, Pack Dynamics, Sugar Baby vibes, Eventual Smut, Brief mention of lwj/others)

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2. hi - apologies if you have answered this and i missed it, or please ignore if i haven't waited long enough! i really appreciate all you guys do! I'm looking for a longish fic - cloud recesses classes WY gets whipped after JZ/JY engagement broken, recovers in CR while creating talismans. Wens attack and WY explodes heads. ACE JZ, badass Madame Jin, NH sets up JY/NM, WY grabbed by WR, LZ comes to save him and they kill WR. I've tried searching hashtags, but just can't find it -can you help? @oldoni

FOUND? 🧡 To have and to hold by Moominmammashandbag (M, 78k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major character injury, CQL verse, Happy Ending)

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3. Hello Mojo!! I've always used your blog to find missing fics, but this'll be the first time I send in a an ask!!

I read this fic a long time ago and forgot to bookmark it, the premise was Jiang Yanli was engaged to Lan Zhan but she was in love with Jin Zixuan. So Wei Ying, doing what he does best and offers to take her place.

He's invented a talisman that changes his body to look like Yanlis, the catch is that it affects his health everything he uses the talisman until it eventually hurts him to the point of near death. And he falls in love with Lan Zhan along the way.

Can you help me find this fic?

FOUND? 🔒 You Free Your Mind In Your Androgyny by retired (misbehavingvigilante) (E, 368k, WangXian, JC & JYL & WWX, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bodyswap, Crossdressing, Dysfunctional Family, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Transphobia, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans WWX)

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4. Hiii there was a fic where wei ying was chased by a dog and took shelter in lan zhans house. i remember wy having a panic attack and lz calming him, and ig he had a cat called bunny?? idk this was on the first chp. and it was a long fic ig?? Anyways hope you can find it!! @for13years-i-play-inquiry-foryou

FOUND? leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you’ve met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation)

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5. Hii I am desperately looking for a fic. It is around cloud recess time and wwx is a genuis and gets recognized by the Lans and they treat him well. I remember super specific stuff like there was an elder who blew something up to reroute a river because he needed the water for fire savety and he is kind of mentoring wwx. And some of the elders imply to lwj to court wwx. And there is a kind of scholar equivalent to a discussion converence and the Jiang scholars get so much shit from the Lans for not supporting wwx talent because he is like a once in a generation genius and they usually have systems in place to support people like that but the Jiangs were afraid of madam yu i guess. Thats most of what I remember. I really hope it still exists somewhere... @frankensteins-gendercrisis

FOUND?🔒in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Cloud Recesses, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the Madam Yu warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric)

FOUND? 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 859k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

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6. Hi! I'm looking for a f/f wangxian fic, I don't remember much about the plot but I do know in it wwx bullies young lwj and calls her a lesbian. They later meet as adults and wwx is really trying to atone for her actions. Thank you!! @blessrainydays

FOUND? Out of your system by mimilamp (E, 20k, Female WangXian, Modern AU, Rule 63, Sexual Content, Strap-Ons, jealous wwx, lan zhan FUCKS, mention of LWJ/others straight girl WWX, Y E A R N I N G, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

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7. Hello! Here for the fic finder, please. It starts with Wangxian hunting a monster that eats dreams. At some point it catches lwj and puts him into a dream and wwx goes into the dream and sees that in it they are married? Does that ring any bells?

FOUND? Dream of Me by KingdomFlameVIII (E, 11k, WangXian, Mild Horror, Dreams, Dream Sex, Bathing/Washing, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, First Time, Light Bondage, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering)

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8. Hi! I'm looking for a modern au where WWX was a fox that had gotten taken to a sanctuary and he had a faded red ribbon around his neck, it fell off and he got sad about it. It possibly had his name written on the inside of it? Wen Ning either ran the santuary or worked there. WWX might've been cursed to be in a fox form? I can't remember for sure. I thought I'd bookmarked it but can't find it and there's a gazillion fox!wwx fics and I'm not finding it. I can't remember more than that but hopefully someone will know. TIA!

NOT FOUND! in the arms of the angel by ScarlettStorm (E, 37k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fox WWX, animal rescuer LWJ, Minor pining, major shenanigans, Comedy, Smut, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Adhd WWX, the mortifying ordeal of getting your head stuck in a peanut butter jar, and getting subsequently rescued by your crush, there were in fact two beds, but LWJ knows what he's about, Blowjobs, Frottage, switch rights, Scent Kink, mildly telepathic sex, courtship via kittens)

FOUND! Found: Extremely Friendly Fox by wanderingflame (T, 22k, ZhuiLing, WangXian, Modern AU, mild animal injury, Curses, Fluff, Reunions, Fox WWX, Foxxian being a lovable terror, POV Alternating, Modern With Cultivation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, LWJ wears reading glasses because it's sexy)

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9. Hi can I ask you if you could find me a fanfiction where Wei wuxian keeps doing different ghost games and Lan Zhan keeps interrupting them, the other thing I can remember is that they're both university students and Lan Zhan is responsible for the dormitory.

FOUND?🔒Grandmaster of Demonic Party Games by Trickster_Angel (M, 50k, WangXian, Modern AU, College AU, Crack, Light Angst, Humor, Paranormal, horror, Slow Burn)

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10. Hello! Submitting a request to find a fic, cause i'm honestly at my wit's end.

It was multichapter fic and I'm pretty much sure it was finished. It's basically story, where Wei Wuxian transmigrates from modern times into cultivator setting, summoned by mistake, by his counter-part here and basically hijacked their body? And was then promptly attacked by Lan Wangji, who thought it was original

In cultivator setting, Wei Wuxian was also known as a Yilling Laozu - ancient and mad with grief over Lans killing his husband few hundreds years ago. The present Lan Wangji is reincarnation of said husband, but due Yilling Laozu Wei Wuxian not letting him go, he couldn't properly reincarnate or something? Like - he is still man's husband, Lan Wangji, but a little bit different and that stops him from falling in love with YL WWX?

(There was also something about how this Wei Ying was summoned, because Lan Wangji from that universe probably died, before they had a chance to meet.)

Anyway, after getting (i think?) stabbed by Lan Wangji he got taken to Cloud Recess, then he somehow winded up in Lotus Pier, growing close with Jiang siblings. Also, Wei Wuxian from the modern times was some kind of doctor or inventor (?) and he tried bringing some modern solutions there.

I think this think may be quite known, but i tried all the tags i thought that will work and found nothing ://

Thank you very much in advance

FOUND? Old Foreshadows by protos_metazu_ison (M, 15k, WangXian, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, War, Universe Alteration, Sunshot Campaign, Rated For Violence, Timeline What Timeline, Mojo’s post)

FOUND? 🔒 Transverse by Kytrin, Mslead (E, 192k, WangXian, ChengSang, ZhuiLing, ZhenYi, Dimension Travel, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Enemies to Lovers, Transmigration, Past Lives, Canon-Typical Death, Don’t worry - he gets better)

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11. for fic finder, i've read this a few times and suddenly i can't find it- wwx gets taken by a caiyi merchant while he's on his way to dinner with lwj. the merchant is someone wwx had previously gotten along with, so it's a bit of a depressing realization that even this guy hates him.

queue a sinister array, a timely rescue by lwj, and the sobering realization that wwx can't fully escape what he's done in his past life, and it can crop up where he least expects it @stgroversfire

~*~

12. Hi! This is for fic finder. I'm looking for a fic where sect leader JC returns to Lotus Pier after a trip/night hunt and the junior disciples all clamour towards him. JC then picks one of the youngest disciples who gives a short report and sends them off for training. I think it might be from the pov of someone who accompanied him (LWJ? LXC?) and then I think there's a bit of commentary about the kind of sect leader JC is. I think it's likely some sort of canon divergence or time travel fic, but not sure. Thanks!

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13. hi, i’m looking for a fanfic in which jzx’s death was faked, he was found in the lake (?) by wwx, i remember people thought wwx was dead but lwj managed to find him alive in some village. lwj told jiang yanli to find wwx and after he found jzx, he was told not to sleep in the same room with jyl as she was married woman and it was inappropriate. this fic wasn’t finished

FOUND? Discarded by teawater (E, 178k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it's not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

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14. Hi! I’ve been looking for a fic I read a while ago in which WWX designs a talisman (or something) to test blood relationships and finds out he really is JFM’s son. If I remember correctly he’s already left Lotus Pier, I think he finds out with JYL and JC at Cloud Recesses? “This body yet survives” by RoseThorne comes very close but doesn’t have him as JFM’s son. Help please!

I’m pretty sure 14 is a modern era AU and they take a DNA test which reveals the siblings as wwx’s half siblings - can I locate it? Ehhh, of course not unless I get lucky with my history search

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15. I’m looking for a fic that is a modern au, no cultivation, where wwx leaves home or is driven out of his home and loses contact with his sibling and lwj. Fast forward to the future, he’s living somewhere and is with the Wen siblings? I don’t remember how, but somehow lwj finds wwx first, maybe over text? And slowly wwx starts sharing his life again? I feel like maybe wwx had been abused or threatened to never talk to his siblings again. He’s very afraid. I remember Wen Qing was very suspicious of LWJ and protective of wwx. Thanks for your help!

NOT FOUND! clean from the war (your heart fits like a key) by sysrae (E, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reunions, past xy/wwx, xy is fucked up but not evil because it's a modern AU and I said so, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, past wwx/jfm, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Abuse, Rape Recovery, transphobic violence, Victim Blaming, Past wwx/others, allusions to past self-harm)

FOUND! Love Don't Belong To Me by airinshaw (E, 28k, WangXian, Modern, Getting Together, Kissing, Intercrural Sex, Light Angst, Happy Ending, PTSD, Panic Attack, WWX's canonical self-esteem issues, Canonical Child Abuse, not as dark as the tags imply, Past Relationships mention)

~*~

16. Hello! Thanks in advance for this. I read ff earlier this year, it was post-canon I guess, Wei Wuxian is staying in cloud recesses and Lan wangji is chief cultivator (I guess). once wwx took juniors to night hunt and he kminda knew that someone will come for him, a walking corpse was searching for him specifically. after empathy wwx got to know that the walking corpse is his father. I dont remember anything other than this scene. Please help! @vbhardwaj-reads

FOUND! An Aftermath More Devastating Than The Storm by UneducatedAuthor (Not Rated, 111k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Everyone Loves WWX, The Junior Ensemble Love WWX, Hurt WWX, Protective LWJ, Protective LSZ, WWX Deserves Better, Genius WWX, WWX Protection Squad, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Cultivation Sect Politics, JC & WWX Reconciliation) Has Wei Changze as a fierce corpse searching for his son

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17. For fic finder, I remember it was a multichap canon dovergent wangxian fic with inventor wwx. Tho I am not sure if that tag was used. The most notable part of it was Madam Jin bringing evidence of jgs putting his lot in with wrh complete with bills, transactions, correspondences etc. Jgs tries to discredit her by being a misogynist. That's when madam Jin uses a wwx custom binding spell on him and then says "I am a quick study when I want to be" to wwx and then she says "thank you for your instruction" because she learned the spell from jzx who saw wwx teach it to jc in cloud recesses lectures. After that she tells jzx to take the sect leader's seat and there was resistance from jin elders in the same scene and also in other later chapters. It was complete and happy ending I believe for wangxian too @yiling-laozu-is-loml

FOUND? Cultivating immortality by KizuKatana (E, 231k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Mutual Pining, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, unreliable narrator, Found Family, First Time, novel canon relationship dynamics)

~*~

18. Hey its my first ask so i don't know if I'm doing it right... I've been trying to find two specific fics really hard but no luck yet. I hope you'd be able to help

A) It was a post-sunshot campaign au..I think someone basically heard wwx getting yelled at by jc and flinching away from his touch. That gives rise to rumours that jc is sexually abusing wwx. Everyone starts pitying wwx and it comes to a head at some sort of banquet..?

B) A post-canon wangxian fluff fic. I think it might've been a 5+1 sort of fic but im not sure. There was one particular scene where wwx is just hanging out with other lan spouses and they are all complaining about their husband but wwx is silent cause lwj treats him really well..After he says so one of the women say "how long will it take your husband to realise if I kill you and take your place?" To which wwx replies "like right away"

I really hope you'll be able to find them

18A)

FOUND? Short Prompts by Vrishchika (M, 40k, WIP, WangXian, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Not JC Friendly, Separate Tags for Each Chapter) chapter 15 I'm sure of it

18B)

FOUND? Life before you was tragic by covalentbonds (Not rated, 4k, wangxian, Fluff and Humor)

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19. Hello! I am trying to find a fix where Wei ying get thrown to burial mound by wen Chao as a child, and then he become the protector of Yiling! He is always covered in shadows when he meet the sects! Can anyone remember the title! It is in AoW but I cannot find it! Help please!🙏 Thanks 😊 Have a wonderful day! @fallingstar77

I don't remember the name of #19 fic, but what I do remember is that it's listed on the amazing Warprize compilation you guys did.

FOUND? 💖 what price is duty, what cost is love by thunderwear (G, 18k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, WWX was never adopted by the Jiang Sect, War Prize, YLLZ WWX, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, First Time, Falling In Love, eventual dramatic confessions, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

20. Hi, Im looking for a fic that may have been deleted but i'll try here. In it LWJ takes a'yuan away from cloud recesses to raise outside of the sect after WWXs death. He builds a garden with various monuments one of which is a boulder tied down with ropes to represent the Xuanwu. Eventually he senses something and goes to the burial mounds where he drags a reborn WWX from the blood pool. He takes him home to rehabilitate. On the way he stops at an inn to bathe him. Thats all I remember<3

~*~

[sturniolo04]

The Confession 1 C.S.

Fwb!Mean!Chris x Fwb!Fem!Reader

A/N: I tried something different :)

*Really long you have been warned.

I dont even know how I ended up in this position. One minute my best friend Madi thinks she likes both Matt and Chris and the next she is 100% Matt. Me and Madi are super close I mean we practically grew up together and when we met the triplets in Boston everything changed, our circle grew just a little bit bigger. Lately, I haven't been the best friend to Madi just because I have been neglecting to confess to her about my secret crush on Chris and I am not the type to run over her if she knows she likes Chris because who am I to tell her she can't like him especially since I haven't told her that I did.

its about 1:50 in the morning and by this time Madi had walked all the way to a park and found a bench to sit and bawl her eyes out she couldnt figure out why she was feeling this bad whether it was that she couldnt articulate how she hurt Matt and Chris or if it is was because she cant choose between chris and matt she knows them both equally for a long time. sighing looking down at her phone finally deciding to call the one person she knew is always there. Holding in my tears as the dial tone rings hoping she wasnt asleep yet.

"Hello Madi"

jess speaks into the phone

"Jess"

she states through choked tears

"Madi what's going on love what happened" 

"i messed up really bad and i dont know what to do"

she exclaims letting her tears fall

"Madi"

"I like chris and matt and ive might have messed up our friendship"

"no madi you didnt okay i promise you didnt they are still your friends and they love you"

you quickly reply feeling that heavy feeling in your chest again as she still thinks she like chris.

"i dont know"

she replies through a fit of tears

"its okay promise try to get some sleep and you will feel so much better tomorrow i promise"

you reply reassuring her.

"okay goodnight"

she sniffles out

"goodnight i will see you when you get back home "

she hung up from jess and sighed out once more calming her nerves proceeding to walk back to the house. as she made her way into the driveway sitting back on the concrete driveway where the night officially started 

"MADI"

you exclaim softly seeing her sitting on the driveway

"hi"

she replies quietly as she turns around to look at you

"i was so worried are you okay"

you ask again.

"im sorry"

you sigh squatting down and hugging her then sitting down next to her

"i fucked things up didnt i"

she huffs out

"what no well i mean chris and matt are not speaking to each other currently but i mean whats new"

you sigh out since madi basically confessed to both of them on the same night and them both finding out in this driveway tonight.

" but it was my fault im the reason they are mad at each other"

"no no youre not okay they are just being them okay they will grow up"

you reassure her

"but i mean i told you had feelings for chris too"

you state smirking trying to shake the heavy feeling in her stomach at that sentence.

"jesss"

"you know i love you"

you say side hugging her

'well im going to bed you think youre going to be okay"

"yeah thanks j" 

"okay"

you say standing up and walking back into the house as madi rests her head on her arms positioned on top of her knees as someone comes and sits next to her quietly

"hi matt"

she speaks softly out noticing his presence

"hey"

"im sorry"

"why you were just being honest" 

he sighs out

"i do really like you" 

she confesses again

"no madi you and chris are perfect and honestly it makes he was at least able to communicate how he feels about you without being oblivious about it im not the one you need madi you are way out of my league and im okay with that honestly"

he sighs out rambling

"what the actual fuck matt stop youre  out of my league why do you just automatically assume your not good enough" 

she exclaims frustrated standing up and wrapping the blanket you had brought her getting upset

"madi no youre not out of league okay just stay"

he says pulling her hand down a little as she sighs and sits back down as matt pulls me into him connecting our lips guiding her on his lap in the process. He tangled his fingers through her messy hair as he continue to make out with her. Her hands wrapped around his neck tightly as he stood up carrying her back into the house. shepulled away quickly he closed the door behind them and set her back on her feet.

"Matt if-if"

she trails of whispering

"wait"

he stops her as he pulls his and her shoes off leaving them downstairs as he swiftly picks her up again by her thighs taking her upstairs to her room quietly being sure not wake up anyone especially Chris. Matt leans back in after setting her on her bad standing in between her legs attempting to connect their lips again but madi halted him in the process.

"matt..seriously come on"

she giggles out as he sighs out stares at her as she bites her lip slowly.

"yes madi you were saying"

he chuckles out

"matt if- if we do this"

she trails off motions towards them

"no one can know yet"

"okay"

he kind of chuckles at the concept

"im serious matt"

she exhales out looking at him as his face softens at her response

"at least until i figure out how to tell" 

"chris"

"yeah because"

"i know i know"

he sighs out moving himself from in between her to next to her laying on her bed. 

"jess' mom might be coming to boston"

"what that so cool"

"yeah she called her when i walked off tonight"

"oh" 

"yeah"

"well im going to go"

he states standing up

"where"

she states worried

"dont worry just in the other room with chris maybe so you can get some sleep"

he chuckles out giving madi a forehead kiss as he walks out of her room.

Madi wakes up the next morning mentally face palming herself considering well she basically made out with Matt after literally confessing to both brothers she has feelings for them. she rolled out of bed hoping everything will return to normal. she shower and put on this And head downstairs to be met with the face of the one and only

"good morning"

"whats up how are you feeling"

"better just like jess said"

"jess"

"i talked to her last night after everything"

"oh okay hey madi listen forget everything i said last night i was just being stupid it was nothing"

he states quickly realizing he also confessed that he liked you.

"chris i dont think it was nothing you dont have to lie about it"

"no im being for real"

"christopher"

"what im serious"

"okay then sound cool"

she states heading back upstairs

"where are you going"

"to wake up matt and everyone else"

Chris couldnt understand why he said that he literally let her get away again. His thoughts were soon interrupted the sound of jess's doorbell ringing. He went over and opened the door to reveal

"oh hi there i was- where is jess"

jess mom trails off

"she's upstairs um"

he trailed off kind of awkwardly since he had no idea that this jess's mom as what sounded like jess's laugh approaching the bottom of the stair case. I turned to see jess walking down with Nick and Madi being carried down the stairs by matt. the lady at the door cleared her throat as they all snapped out of their trance looking in that direction

"Mom"

she exclaims running over and hugging her

"mom"

Chris questions

"yeah.. mom this is chris, matt, nick and then you remember madi"

she trails off as chris waves his hand

"Hi you all"

she says with a raised eyebrow smiling

"jess; mom"

she exlcaims hugging her after jess

"hey madi"

"when did you get here" 

madi asks her

"last night when jess called"

Madi looks over at jess standing next to her as she shrugs her shoulders a little not wanting to talk about last night at all due to the fact she still felt the pit in her stomach of guilt of even allowing herself the like chris and not trust madi enough to even tell her that you liked him.

"so mom do you want to come on in then"

she states as madi and her both step aside to let her in

"how long are you going to be here for"

"just the weekend"

"maybe we can all go somewhere and just hang out for a little bit maybe grab dinner does that sound good guys"

she asks everyone

"im fine with that"

nick agrees nodding his head

"mom"

you question her

"sure plus i want to see all there is about Boston since this is my first time up here"

"well the triplets can definitely help point out those key spots since they've grown up here"

"literally"

chris chuckles out admiring jess' laugh slightly

"cool so do want me to ride with you"

"umm.. im going to ride with jess and her mom is that okay"

"uh yeah of course" 

madi and you grab your shoes and they all head out the door.

"soo"

she trails off looking the mirror at the two girls in the backseat of the car

"what's going on with you and Matt Madi"

"uhh"

" yeah i was going to ask about that i mean i knew you guys made up because i saw him come outside after i left you after you came back home"

"umm i dont know what you guys are talking about"

"are you sure because i remember clearly you being carried down the stairs by him this morning"

"in a skirt too at that madii"

you exclaim dragging out the 'i' in your best friend's name

"oh come on what is that suppose to mean just because we made up doesn't mean we are dating"

"so your telling me he hasnt tried to make a move on you after everything that happened yesterday evening"

she asks as madi kind of stares off into space getting flashbacks to last night of literally her and matt making out in her driveway

"oh my god he totally did didnt he"

"what no jess no" 

"madi"

jess's mom exclaims trying to get an answer out of her

"OKAY maybe we might have made out in the driveway at like 2 in the morning"

"MADISON"

you exclaim at your best friend with your jaw dropped

"what i mean its wasnt like terrible"

she shyly replies.

"that you made out with your bestfriend the best friend you liked for literally ever or that he was actually good at making out"

"OH MY GOODNESS"

madi exclaims embarrassed

" just asking"

"OH MY GOD NO"

"it was definitely the second option"

you giggle out

"shut up Jess"

she exclaims pushing some of her hair behind her ear opening her phone

"just make sure you do and know what your heart wants madi" 

"of course always"

Taglist

@dirtylittleheart333 @stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff @mintsturniolo @spicymuffins03 @emely9274

[innerfare]

Smutty Mihawk Headcanons

Summary: a collection of NSFW Mihawk headcanons

Genre: pure smut (afab!reader)

CW: a little bit of knife play (cutting clothes not skin), dirty talk, low-key masochist Mihawk, exhibitionism on the down low

———

Bisexual icon.

King of sexual tension.

Marine hunter? More like marine fucker. 

Is eternally bored, but has a keen interest in lingerie, and he rather likes cutting it off you. He never thought he would enjoy drawing a knife or sword during sex, but he finds the trust you put in him invigorating. 

A very passionate lover. His insistence on being the best carries over into the bedroom. As such, he’s no fan of quickies. He wants you tied up in his four poster bed, the curtains pulled back to allow moonlight to filter in from the balcony, your naked body sprawled across his silk sheets until the sun rises. 

Talks dirty but getting a moan out of this man is like pulling teeth. Also won’t tell you if you’ve pleased him. Your only indication is that he comes back for more. 

Of course, if you do want to get a moan out of him, the best way is to hurt him. Likes if you rake your nails up and down his back, yank his hair, bite him (especially the spot between his thumb and index finger after sucking his fingers), squeeze his face in your hands, maybe even slap him.

And then there's his bondage kink. If you tie him up, it better be to whip him. He'll start out goading you in that bored tone of his, accusing you of half-assing it, telling you to hit him harder. You know you've gotten to him when the comments cease and he bites his lip, his brow furrowing.

Doesn’t just fuck. He spars. 

Saying it again, cannot emphasize this enough, he loves a biter.  

Wants a partner who wants to be chased, as most people either throw themselves at his feet or run away with no hope of being caught. Will chase you down the halls of his castle and ravage you wherever he catches you. Poor Perona has a list of sofas she no longer sits on, counters she refuses to put food on, and entire staircases she avoids. There are even certain mirrors she doesn’t want to look in, even if the marks have been wiped away. Zoro doesn’t fully believe her when she gives him the rundown, thinking nobody can be that feral, particularly not his stoic teacher, who in his mind is the picture of restraint and civility, until he’s training by himself one day in the courtyard and happens to see you appear in one of the towers, only for Mihawk to appear after you and rather lewd sounds to follow. Also sees Mihawk fucking you hard in a window one time, and over a balcony another time. Zoro quickly learns not to enter the wine cellar between the hours of six and ten PM. 

Lives for dangerous sexual situations. Has fucked you in the woods at night despite the menagerie of dangerous beasts running around, has fucked you from behind in an open window several stories high, your front half hanging out, has even fucked you in his small boat on stormy, raging seas. Every duel he has ever enjoyed has been charged with sexual tension.

In addition to these trysts, he wants you in his bed every night after dinner. You either shower or bathe together, and then he works you into a sweat so you need another one.  

Worries deeply if you ever reject his advances, thinks it must be his fault. “Have I displeased you in some way? Tell me, my love, and I will make it right.” It’s times like this that any veneer of disinterest falls away and you see just how much he cares for you. 

Has certain pet names reserved for the bedroom. “My mewling kitten,” is his current favorite. 

Always does that thing where he strokes your temple with his thumb when he fucks you in missionary. It’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture when you’re struggling to take all of him, but it riles you up more than it calms you down. Uses his other hand to pull one of your legs up as far as it will go, so he’s pinning you down but comforting you about it. 

Loves to feel you up in the bath.

If he has more than one glass of wine, he will be going down on you. The more wine he has, the bigger his appetite for you. It gets worse with stronger liquor. When the Red Hair pirates come to stay and Shanks insists on breaking into the whiskey Mihawk keeps for that very occasion, you know you won’t be sleeping until they leave (and that Shanks will be going down on you, too). 

His favorite is to go down on you on his dining table. It makes you feel very exposed considering he strips you down but remains clothed (as is common with Mihawk when he's domming) and the dining room is very large with many doors that anyone could walk through. But that's what Mihawk enjoys about it.

If you go down on him, his hands will most certainly be in your hair. He loves smoothing your hair, and if it’s long, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail to get the best possible view of your pretty face. 

Once moaned Shanks’ name in bed. Neither of you ever addressed it, but you do always flirt with Shanks when he and his crew come around because it seems to peak your lover’s interest. You haven’t proposed a threesome because you don’t want to share him with the Red-Haired drunk. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Shower - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: I cried so much while writing this. I think that means it’s good? Either way, I hope you all like it. Lmk if any of the warnings are missing or labeled incorrectly

Written for this request

CW: dysphoria; chest dysphoria; descriptions of dysphoria triggers; descriptions of dysphoria; anxiety attack (or panic attack. I’m not sure which one counts for this); crying; mentioned emotional exhaustion/numbness; Logan is soft in this; hurt/comfort; Reader and Logan bathe together; bathing while partially dressed; Reader is called handsome; mentions of panic; fluffy ending; talk of love; mild kissing

669 words

It really was the mirror’s fault.

One of your least favorite tasks to do was to shower. Not because you didn’t like being clean or because it was too overwhelming. No, you didn’t like it for an entirely different reason.

Taking a shower meant being naked. And that was the one thing you hated more than anything else. Well, sort of. Being partially naked was fine. The real problem came when your chest was bare.

And your bathroom had a mirror. A large one, so no matter where you were, you could always catch a glimpse of your reflection.

It made you feel physically ill. Like you could see all the people around you, laughing and mocking you for not being as flat as you needed. It made you want to rip off your very skin.

But you have to take a shower.

Everything is fine until you get into the bathroom. Your back is to the mirror, you’re focusing on something else… and then you drop something and have to turn around to pick it up.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, and it all spirals from there.

Logan finds you in the corner, crying and numb. He crouches in front of you. “Hey.”

You don’t answer.

He drapes one of his shirts over you, careful not to touch your chest as he buttons it up a bit. Once your chest is hidden, he steps back, starting to shed his clothes.

You lift your head a little to watch, but don’t say anything. You just sniffle and wipe at your eyes.

He turns on the water to the bath, waiting a moment to make sure it’s the right temperature. Then he gently scoops you up and steps into the bath.

He sits down, settling you on his lap. The bottom of the shirt gets wet, but he makes no move to take it off.

You lean back against him, resting your head against his shoulder.

“You alright, handsome?” Logan asks, hands gently rubbing your thighs.

“No.” You shake your head. If you weren’t all out of tears by now, you’d probably be crying again.

He nods and presses a kiss to your temple. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

You take a deep breath in and let it go. You do feel better now than before. The shirt you’re wearing clings to your body as the bathtub water rises, but your chest is still covered. You don’t feel so gross anymore.

Logan doesn’t leave for the rest of your bath. He helps you wash, doing it for you when your hands shake too much and bile rises in your throat. His hands are rough but gentle. They ground you, keeping you from falling into panic.

The shirt is soaking wet by the time you’re done. Wet and clingy and gross. But you feel so much better.

You get out of the tub on your own, shying away from the mirror. Logan drapes you in a towel before undoing the buttons of the shirt. When you pass by your reflection, there’s nothing visible but fluffy towel. You take another deep breath.

There are no mirrors in your bedroom, so you drop the towel to get dressed. Logan sits on the edge of your bed, watching. It makes you feel the tiniest bit insecure about yourself before you catch the look in his eyes.

Absolute adoration.

It makes you blush, hasty to finish dressing. You’ve always known Logan loves you. He’s made it abundantly clear since the two of you started dating. You just forget sometimes how much he loves you.

Once you’re done you sit on the bed next to him and lean against him. Entwining your fingers with his. “How did you know?”

Logan looks down at you. “I had a feeling. You’re always fast on shower days. Figured something was wrong after you took a while.”

You lean up to kiss him. “Thank you.”

He leans into the kiss. “Anything for my man.”

[solspina]

Hello! I saw that your request box is open if this doesn’t suit your taste you can ignore this.

Could you write a hurt to comfort fic that involves a workaholic Guilliman and his politically married wife?

They knew they had being married to a primark would be rough but they didn’t think it would be so emotionally draining/lonely. Guilliman finally decides to do something and acknowledges his wife when one day she’s considering divorce and there are TOO many suitors waiting to have her hand.

Could you add how Robute pines for her but doesn’t know how to show how he loves her because he’s trying to manage a dying imperium and he doesn’t think he’s worth loving?

Never Again Will I be Gone

roboute guilliman ⋆˙⟡

i deeply apologize if this is rushed, i couldn’t figure out how to end it and it may be a little all over the place, but i hope it is enjoyed nonetheless!

why spill blood if things can be handled peacefully? guilliman is far too afraid of becoming attached or falling in love with his wife, and eventually she places the most dreaded option on the table for him. when tragedy befalls her, guilliman can hold his act of withdrawal no longer

warnings: blood, distant ass guilliman

how she had gone from being an incredibly privileged noblewoman to the wife of the last remaining primarch, she did not know.

there was a point in time she had believed she was a beacon of hope for her people. once her father’s reign was over, she would finally be able to restore peace to her planet, heal the sick and the dying, uplift the thousands that resided there from poverty. It was only when she stood on the altar and was encapsulated within the piercing blue gaze of roboute guilliman that she realized her people could not be saved.

the planet she resided on, the one she was supposed to rule, had an astonishing militia. the imperium did not wish extinction upon an innocent colony, nor did they want to challenge a planet that would undeniably put up a fight. teaching her father the ways of the emperor was far easier than trying to convince him that a woman could lead or be of any importance.

that ideal had been drilled in her head her entire life. she was to be married off from the day she was born. not a single suitor met her father’s standards, for none of them held enough power, until guilliman.

but it was fulgrim who convinced guilliman to take a wife in the first place. her planet was dangerous. if a peaceful negotiation was on the table, why sacrifice any lives?

fulgrim relaxed in his chair, pulling his wine glass away from his lips with a sly but genuine smile on his face. “you don’t have to love her guilliman. ive wed dozens of women. we do this out of necessity for peace, not out of love.” he said, his tone aloof and dismissive. guilliman hated to admit that his brother was right, thousands of his sons and innocent humans did not need to lose their lives when peace was on the table. “besides,” fulgrim added, his eyes gleaming with mischief and something akin to lust. “she is quite beautiful. i’d watch your back, i’ve heard others deeply desire an opportunity with her” guilliman’s expression remained stale and unmoving from the papers on his desk, though an unfamiliar feeling flickered through his eyes at the thought of someone else coveting his soon to be wife. was this possession?

“sure thing, brother.” guilliman replied, cold, unfeeling, and professional as usual.

he did not get to meet her until their wedding day, and quite beautiful she was. gorgeous fragile, and timid. her cowardice in his presence was something he was not anticipating of a noble, let alone the daughter of an incredibly cruel king. yet her eyes, glassy with tears, looked upon her people with great sympathy and sadness. they looked back at her the same way. she was not cruel, she was kind. these people were being ripped away of the only kindness they had been shown from their rulers.

when her father approached the two of them, she seemed to shrink into guilliman, clinging to his arm as if her father would rip her away the moment he got close enough. the king’s gaze shifted back and forth between guilliman and the girl, before her wrist was grabbed with such force guilliman swore he heard a crack. “i’d like to say goodbye to my dearest daughter” the man said, cooing as she whimpered at the pressure on her wrist, her hand turning blue.

guilliman’s eyes narrowed as he wrapped an arm around her. “release her, and say your goodbyes here, then.” he stood sternly, eyeing the girl’s hand. her father let go, not expecting such a protective tone from the primarch. “i will not depart from my wife.”

he protected her from her father, sure. but his words were a lie. for he did not have to love her.

throughout 6 months of marriage, he had only allowed himself to see her a dozen or so times, each meeting brief and rushed. his sons took great care of her in his absence, always sure to carefully to reply to every “where’s lord guilliman?” with a flat and prompt “he’s busy”.

the only time she remembered physical contact with him was the kiss they shared their wedding day, and the occasional brushing of hands when she handed him his paperwork. being allowed to sit in his office and watch him do his work was a rare and very awkward occurrence. she had her own room. her own space. she should spend time there instead. neither her or her belongings were allowed in guilliman’s personal quarters, anything to stop her sweet and intoxicating scent from getting on his sheets. anything to stop him from falling in love. he does this out of necessity, he has no time for love. he did not have to love her.

he’d admire her from a distance instead, or he’d submerge himself in papers and documents to avoid catching a glimpse of her. she’d sit in her room, contemplating the blank tear stained divorce papers that sat upon her dresser as she traced her fingers over the contours in her wedding ring. all the paper needed was guilliman’s signature.

her quarters were still close to his despite being separated. he heard her cries at night, incredibly often. comfort, she needs comfort. she needs warmth. he’s been in that room before, it’s so… so cold. he knew, and yet never once did he act on it. instead, he sat alone in his room doing paperwork by the warmth of his fireplace, the cracking flames helping drown out her sobs. he did his best to ignore them. he did not have to love her.

sometimes he couldn’t help but stop and listen, pressing his ear against the cold wall, knowing just how freezing and lonely it must be past the walls of his massive and elaborate quarters. his bed was more than big enough for the both of them, and he mulled over the thought many times. it didn’t matter, a little cold wouldn’t kill her, he did not have to love her.

one particular night, though, guilliman did not hear her crying as usual. her sobs and the sounds of the fire were replaced by heavy footsteps approaching his door. the heavy metal boots of cato sicarius were unmistakable as he made his way toward the primarch, a stern but panicked look across his features. Something about the look on cato’s face caused guilliman’s heart to quicken.

“my lord” cato’s voice was close to trembling, sweat pooling on his forehead “it’s lady guilliman… she’s hurt” cato’s voice echoed despite his panting. guilliman rose to his feet with an urgency he had never before felt toward his wife, his heart filled with a mix of panic, confusion, and anger.

“how badly?” he asked with a hint of controlled fury behind the question, every millisecond that passed causing him to dread every possible answer more and more until his heart felt as if it would beat out of his chest.

“she is in critical condition, my lord” the worst possible outcome rang through cato’s lips, but fell on deaf ears as the primarch plowed past him, walking directly to the medical unit and ignoring anything attempting to grab his attention along the way.

guilliman cursed to himself. to hear her cry was one thing, to long for her was one thing, but to be absent and allow her to become fatally injured?

when he arrived in the medical bay, multiple medicae surrounded the bloody and trembling body of lady guilliman. tears poured from her eyes despite her state of near-unconsciousness, the clear wound left by none other than the claws of the night haunter was swollen and crimson, it’s bright redness mixed with black screamed at guilliman. he should’ve been there. there was not an excuse in the universe that would satisfy the fact he was blind enough to let konrad curze get his filthy hands on his wife.

“where’s… guilliman…” she choked out, past her exhaustion and teary eyes.

one of the nurses seemed to tense up at her sad and confused expression. despite his constant absence, despite the papers for divorce he had found on his desk, she still cried out for him. “i apologize my lady, he’s busy” the nurse responded, watching her face twist into a look of defeat. he’d already signed the papers, had them prepared for her, and placed them on her nightstand in her quarters.

his heart could hold its true feelings no longer as he felt it begin to crumble. “i’m here.” his voice announced his presence as he approached her bedside, the nurse who cared for her widened her eyes in shock, swiftly stepping to the side to allow guilliman to see his wife. she reached up weakly with a single one of her tiny hands. her eyes were half lidded, confused and full of sorrow.

he stepped forward, reaching out his own hand to grab onto hers. “you’re really here…” she whispered, a small smile upon her features. “you found my papers, guilliman?”

his smile, once mirroring hers, faded into the slightest frown. “yes.” he responded. his voice cold and yet sorrowful. “they are signed but,” he paused, wanting a moment to consider the weight of the words on his tongue. “I cannot let you return home until you have recovered.”

she frowned. “i don’t want to go back home, roboute.” he tensed at her use of his first name, the only piece of his identity that was truly his own. “but there i had my people, and here i have nothing at all…” her voice broke as she cried, the pain of her wound overwhelming her as the machines stitching her wound together brought healing alongside pain. Exhausted and in something akin to agony, tears began to stream down her face.

“then i will give you everything” he replied with a solemn vow, turning to face the nurse as she nodded toward the primarch, the machine finishing its work and signaling to him that she was free to go as long as she did not walk or strain her body for a few days. he, for the first time, lifted his wife into his arms with more gentleness than that of which a primarch was capable.

he carried her into his room, past her own freezing cold quarters. he’d have her personal belongings moved within the next few days. Gently, he lay her on the soft rug next to his fireplace, not wanting to stain his bedsheets with her blood or hurt her as his period of scheduled rest passed. he removed his own armor, placing it to the side with ease before moving over to his bed. He did not lie down, instead grabbing a soft blanket and draping it over her body, ensuring she stayed warm. He sat next to her, placing her head on his thigh as she nestled into him for both comfort and warmth.

perhaps his scheduled rest meant nothing at all. damn the schedule. he had more important things to attend to now, and those marines of his were more than competent enough to handle it. his focus now was on nothing more than his wife, the girl who lay with her head in his lap as he stroked her head, memorizing every hair on her scalp like he should’ve long ago.

she shifted in her sleep, her body instinctively cuddling closer to her husband, thankful for the warmth she had always longed for. she did not cry on this night. he placed his hand over her shoulder and leaned back against the wall, his heart finally willing to admit the truth. he did not have to love her, but he did. by the emperor, he did.

[bitten-fruit]

Houndtooth | ⇦ Chapter 7 ⇨

Ghost x f!Reader - tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, abduction, bodyguard, forced cooperation, smut

18+ mdni - cw: references to SA - 3.9k words

𝐕𝐈𝐈. 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

The air of your cell is thick and savoury like soup. You choke on it, every breath, drowning in it – filling your lungs with its foul warmth and barely slaking your battered body’s need for oxygen.  

The sore minutes following your husband’s execution had blurred into incomprehensible smoke. Fleeting. Suffocating. Obfuscating.  

You are lost. Uncertain whether or not you are grieving. And if you’re not, whether you should be. 

His words were each a bullet, each meticulously calculated to injure you where it would hurt you most. Almost perfectly crafted to ensure your captors lose any semblance of pity or reverence they held for you – so that they might lose whatever restraint they’ve been attempting to maintain. So that they may do to you whatever they have been itching to do. Their exploitation justified. Because you’re just a whore.  

But in your desperation to comfort your own distraught mind, you argue with yourself. Your own devil’s advocate. 

Perhaps it was a game. Could have been a bluff. 

He must have loved you, right? After years of serving him, of acting your part, of loving him the way he wanted you to.  

He had to have loved you. You had always dreamed someone would. 

No matter the case, the outcome is the same. There’s no way back. Whatever nightmare you’re stuck in will only, only, get worse. Regardless of which pack of wolves you are left to, your fate remains inescapable. You’ll be used. Consumed. Digested. Shit back out.  

The Captain had ferried you to a new cell – the one you now sat in, atop a makeshift bed with a squealing steel frame. He had carried you like a child, an arm under your knees and an arm under your neck, he let your head fall on his chest despite your fading effort to stay skittish and defensive. His charity disingenuous. White knight he is. 

But you’re weak. Exhausted. Delirious.  

You sit in dead silence, knees tucked up tightly to your chin, body only partially dry after your water torture.  

The Captain stands in front of you. Hands magisterially on his hips, he pouts under his beard. Wrestling with how best to interact with you, like you’re an animal in an exhibit. Careful not to scare you off, but frightened you’d bite if he gets too close.  

“There were no bullets in the gun, by the way,” he says gruffly, voice hoarse like he’s gargling gravel. “I wasn’t going to kill you. It was a… a bluff.”  

You say nothing. Give him nothing. You glower at him from under your brow, hoping he leaves so you can finally lie down and cry like a hurt little girl.  

“Can I get you something? Water?”  

You say nothing.  

“Look. We’re – we’re not going to hurt you. But I need you to answer some questions, alright?” He insists. “We need to know about who your husband worked with. I’m guessing he must have called them his colleagues, eh?” 

Give him nothing.  

“Do you know a Vladimir? Makarov?”  

That name, you know. You know it well. You know it like an apple knows teeth. Like a deer knows an arrow. Like a carcass knows a knife.  

Less so a colleague and more a rival. Two lions fighting for the same throne. Vladimir hated your husband so viciously it wouldn’t surprise you if he had orchestrated this entire series of events just to be rid of him.  

But the enmity between he and your husband isn’t what strikes icy shards of terror through your chest. Isn’t what churns your stomach and pushes dark bile up your throat. 

You swallow. 

“Mh. Looks like you do know him,” he grunts, crossing his arms over his broad chest, rocking on his boots. “Can you tell me about him?” 

He persists in his questioning, despite your sealed lips. You know that talking might help you. That spilling your vague knowledge like water from a faucet might ingratiate you. Might earn your freedom.  

But what freedom awaits you?  

If these soldiers cast you back to your blood-soaked estate, or your petit trianon – as a traitor of your husband, a scorned widow – you will simply be bait. Raw meat to lure bears. Honey to lure wasps. There is nowhere you could possibly hide to evade them, no scheme to outsmart them.  

You’d be better off dead.  

“When was the last time you saw him?”  

“Did he come to your estate a lot? Did he travel with your husband?”  

“Have you ever spoken to him?” 

“Does he know you?” 

“Could he help you?”  

“Where is he?”  

He leans forward, props himself up with his palms on his knees. His blue eyes are piercing, discerning. “Do you know where he is?” He insists, “Mia. I’m trying to help you.”  

You say nothing. 

He is quick to grow frustrated, grunting like a bear and standing upright, he rubs his temples in exasperation as if you’ve given him a headache.  

“You don’t want to talk to me. Okay.”  

Give him nothing.  

“Who will you talk to? Anyone?” He presses, tapping his boot in impatience. “Do you want to talk to the Lieutenant?”  

You say nothing – but some shift in your expression must have said something for you. You’re not sure if it was the widening of your eyes, the softening of your brows, the loosening of your shoulders – but he spotted it. And nodded slowly. Knowingly.  

“Alright, love. I’ll go get him. Then you’ll talk to him, eh?”  

“Simon,” came the gruff bark of Price’s familiar voice. Irate.  

Ghost sat on a bench in the empty mess hall, under a flickering fluorescent bar. Bouncing his knee, leaning his elbows on the table in front of him, he pinches a cheap Russian cigarette and holds it between his teeth.  

Tastes like shit. Does the job.  

“What,” he grunts, swivelling on the bench so that he faces out towards the approaching Captain. “Did she kick y’in the head, too?”  

Price only frowns, confused and plainly irritated, he comes to a stop before him and crosses his arms. “No,” he puzzles. “She kicked you, eh? That’ll learn you.”  

Leaning back indolently, Ghost tugs the base of his balaclava back over his mouth, tucking it under his jaw. Squishes the butt into the plastic surface of the table behind him.  “Not me.”  

“Mh,” the Captain acquiesces. “She does seem to like you.”  

Ghost only scoffs, not quite a laugh, but carries the same disbelieving amusement. “Right,” he chuffs, “for killing her husband?”  

“Possibly,” Price shrugs derisively, “beats me.”  

“Has she said anything?”  

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Like talking to a brick wall,” the Captain complains. “A pretty little brick wall.”  

Ghost rolls his eyes, turning his head to look at the open door to the hall. He rubs his brow vexedly with his thumb. And you chide me, you hypocritical prick.  

“She’ll talk to you,” Price insists.  

“Why the fuck would she talk to me?” Ghost retorts. “I waterboarded her.”  

“I asked her.” 

“What, and she requested me?”  

Price tilts his head, a lazy shrug. “Not in so many words.”  

“Right. So you’re full of shit.”  

“Jesus, Simon. Don’t make me order you,” Price sneers, “No clue why she’s interested in you, but, you never know with women like that, eh?”  

His stomach churns at Price’s insinuation. Must have taken your cunt husband’s ramblings at face value. Rookie error for a captain.   

Ghost bounces his knee in annoyance. “Just let her sleep, for fuck’s sake. She’s probably delirious.” 

“Exactly,” Price nods. “She’ll be nice and compliant, eh? Open to persuasion.” 

He's right. Ghost is playing dumb. He’s very familiar with the game, so fluent in the art of exploitation that he could do it with his eyes closed. Beaten, defeated, worn down to a quivering mess is when you’ll be most susceptible to influence. The most pliable.  

Letting you sleep, allowing you to recover your strength as you cocoon yourself in your shell is a surefire way to ensure you never utter another word. He can’t let your fear bubble into spite, into anger, into vengeance. He must kick you when you’re down.  

But – he's tired. He’s already fucking sick of it. Sick of being confused by his own repulsion. Sick of his pathetic eyes raking over your body despite his efforts to restrain it. Sick of your eyes looking through him like you know him better than himself.  

“Too delirious to give us anything useful,” Ghost clarifies, through teeth.  

“I don’t give a shit about whatever vapid rumours she has about Zakhaev. It’s pretty clear she knows nothing about his enterprise.”  

“Then why the fuck do you want me to keep interrogating her?”  

“I don’t want you to interrogate her, Simon,” Price badgers, “I want you to convince her.”  

Ghost frowns, crosses his arms testily. 

“Convince her to what?”  

~

Ghost hears the squeaking of your shoddy bed as he brutishly unlocks and opens the door to your cell. 

You had been lying on your side, curled up like a foetus on the mattress – but the second you are disturbed, you sit yourself upright. Alert. Frightened. Skittish. Stare at him like a cornered cat. 

Looks like you’ve been crying. Eyes red and swollen, cheeks glistening with the afterglow of your tears. Your lips part just slightly as your weary eyes land on him, as though a rush of air just escaped your lungs. He shuts the door behind him, stands in the middle of your small cell with crossed arms. 

He mines his thoughts for words to say. Finds them turning to ash on his tongue. 

“Sorry about your husband,” he says, eventually, tone more facetious than he had intended. 

He sees the cinder flickering in those sparkling little eyes, your chest rises as you inhale in preparation for your retort. “How can you – how can you say sorry for killing–” 

“Not for killing him,” he clarifies with a grunt. “Sorry that you married him.” 

That leaves you quiet. You look sour, because he’s right. 

“Was he always like that?” He persists, feels the snake of spite rising to his throat, needlessly adding an air of mocking derision to his words. “Did–” 

“Why are you here,” you snap to cut him off. Your cadence needle sharp, so starkly at odds to the sweetness of your earlier pleading. Nothing left to beg for, he supposes. 

Ghost draws in an impatient breath. He doesn’t want to be here either. “Boss said you’d talk to me.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you grumble, voice wavering. Pouting at him. Cute. 

He sucks his teeth. “Right,” he scoffs. “Yet you’re talkin’ to me, aren’t you?” 

You fall quiet again, pulling your knees up to your chest, you clutch your bare feet with agitated fingers. “He’s nicer than you,” you mutter scornfully. 

“I bet,” he agrees dully. “But you won’t talk to him.” 

“Don’t trust him.” 

“Oh?” He queries cynically, “so you trust me?” 

You seem to think for a pointed moment before you speak. Wet stare lands on him, scans from boots to head, evaluating. 

“You do what you say you will,” you bitterly admit, and he can see it pains you to say so. 

Christ. 

You trust him? Or, rather, whatever tentative hopeful dependence that you are forced to rely on in a predicament as dire as yours. Still. He squirms at the thought that you’ve decided he’s the best you’ve got. You’ll be sorely disappointed. 

Won’t you? 

“Have you got more questions for me,” You ask flatly, breaking the off-putting silence. 

The defeat in your voice is like nails on a chalkboard. He’d rather you be hysterical, tearful and delirious, overwhelmed with grief but a still riddled with a desperation to survive. 

Instead you’re merely hushed and trembling. Perhaps you’re in shock. Perhaps you’ve got a plan. But, what he is most fearful of, is the likelihood you’ve given up. No desire to fight for whatever life might await you now that your husband is out of the picture. 

Detrimental to their entire operation, yes. They have no leverage to use against you if you have no interest in staying alive.  

More than that, though, he needs you to keep fighting him. To berate and antagonise and kick and scream. All of his adversaries would viciously resist him and that would justify Ghost’s brutality. When his blistering hatred for you was at its peak, not ten hours ago, he could justify hurting you as badly as he wanted to. 

Now what? 

How can he bring himself brutalise you when you look at him like that? Teary-eyed, shaking in either cold or panic - but giving him no resistance? No talk-back, no threats, no ploys to escape? 

How can he hurt you any further? 

He can tell you just want to sleep. Your lids are heavy and swollen despite how hard you try to keep your eyes open and vigilant. Poor thing. 

Ghost shakes his head, stepping towards a steel chair that sits propped against the wall. He lifts it with ease, twisting it in the air and putting it down in front of your bed – sits in it casually, leans back. Thighs spread and fingers interwoven in his lap, he bounces his knee as he chews on his response. 

“If you’ve got information we can use, sure.” 

You sigh deeply and slowly, picking at the cherry-red polish on your toenail with a ferocity that appears to him like self-flagellation. “I don’t know what information I have. Let alone whether it’s useful.” 

“’Alright,” he huffs, takes a minute to think of the question. “Said you’re from Nottingham, yeah? How’d you meet him?” 

A crease forms in your brow as your dubious eyes jump around his face, searching for an intention. You won’t find one. He doesn’t know what it was. 

“How is that useful information,” you seethe. 

He shrugs indifferently. “Need details.” 

You huff as though reluctant, looking at your feet. “I met him in Berlin.” 

He stays silent, and when your stare quickly jumps to him for approval, he gestures with his brutish hand to elaborate. Unsatisfactory answer. 

Your gaze returns to your toes. Focusing as you scrape the glossy red paint with your fingernails, leaving specks that look like dried blood on the dirty mattress. 

“I was a dancer. Um – he came into the club I danced in, with some other men. All in expensive suits. Rich men like that are cheap. Usually never spend a thing. Still want a piece.” 

A stripper. Not what Ghost would have guessed. But he can picture it, all the same. And he does. Pictures you spinning on a slippery pole, peeling off a lacy bra, slender little hands stroking over your buttery body as you present yourself to dogs like meat. 

He grounds himself with a clearing of his throat. “S’that right.” 

“Mhm,” you answer distastefully. “Was always the working boys that spoiled us. Wanted to spend what little money they had just to please. Just because they could. Men in suits, they want what they pay for. And they pay next to nothing because that’s what we’re worth to them.” 

“And Zakhaev…?” 

You draw in a slow breath. “Victor was different.” 

That’s it? C’mon, love. His silence an insistence to continue. And you do. 

“I dunno,” you sniff, he sees your eyes swell red. “I guess he saw something valuable in me.” 

He chastises himself for his interest. Why the fuck does he care how a whore comes across a man like Zakhaev? Billionaire wants a trophy wife, so he buys one. It should be no surprise at all. 

“So he bought you, eh?” Ghost asks harshly, and your wet and angry stare shoots daggers at him in response. 

But you relent. Maybe he’s right. Your gaze returns to your toes and wipe your nose with the back of your hand. 

“He gave me fifty-thousand euros for a private dance.” 

Fucking hell. 

Can’t even fathom spending that much money on anything. But when he looks at you… if he had that kind of money, maybe he’d do the same. 

Nearly smacks himself at the thought. 

“Generous,” he says instead, disdain on his tongue. 

“He was sweet,” you continue, voice wavering as you visibly swallow the urge to cry. “He – he said he could save me. Would take me to his nice house and protect me. Said he’d treat me like a goddess.” 

Ghost snorts spitefully. “Did he?” 

You scowl at him. “Yes, he did.” 

A knife of guilt plunges through his sternum, a truly unfamiliar sting. 

Did you love him? 

He cannot fathom that you could have. Not after that repulsive tirade, so unbearable to hear he felt compelled to execute him just to make it stop. He thought he had done you a favour. Still mostly believes he has. 

“Didn’t sound like it,” Ghost remarks derisively. 

You chew your lip. “It’s your fault he snapped,” you murmur, under breath. Doesn’t sound like you believe what you’re saying. “He was – he was good to me.” 

He sniffs, licks his teeth. “You had bruises.” 

“Fucking ‘course I have bruises, you tortured me.” You hiss. 

Shakes his head. “Before,” he ripostes. “You had bruises on your collarbone. On your thighs. From him, eh?” 

You bite down on your tongue, he sees your eyes well. Must have prodded a sore spot. 

“What is this? What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you he beat me so you feel better about murdering him?” 

That sparks his anger. 

“You think that would make me feel better?” He barks, “I feel fucking fantastic. Shooting that cunt is the best thing I’ve done all week.” 

“You’re sick,” you breathe. 

“I’m sick? Do you know what your fuckin’ husband did? Do you know what he was?” 

“He was a businessman,” you utter, unconvincingly. 

“He was a mass-fucking-murderer. He started a war. You wanna know what the body count for that is?” 

You fall quiet. Shivering and tearful. But you listen. 

“Your husband was busy building bombs. Chemical weapons. Busy selling explosives to fucking terrorist militias in the middle east. Paid for the bombings in London last year. I’m fuckin’ proud that I shot him, whether or not he beat you.” 

You’re ghostly. Blood drained completely from your apple cheeks. Your mouth opens to sip a trembling breath, and your tears begin their cascade. 

“I didn’t know,” you whimper. 

“’Course you didn’t,” he chides doubtfully. 

You heave in a whining sob, tears dripping off your chin as you plunge your face against your knees. Was that your last straw, little thing? 

“I didn’t,” you stutter, snivelling. “I – I knew he… he was an arms dealer. Just an arms dealer.” 

He’s nauseated at the sight of you sobbing so sorely. Finds himself wondering you look like when you smile. 

“He was a warlord.” 

You sob, dropping your knees open so you sit cross-legged, Ghost’s eyes shoot between your legs. Get a fucking grip. Watching you cry and still stealing his glances? Can’t help it. You cry too pretty. 

You move the focus of your self-mutilation from your toes to your fingernails, picking off the lacquer. You sniffle quietly for a minute, and he lets you. What else can he say to you? He’s not much interested in comforting you. 

But there’s an ache, sharp and yet nebulous. The acknowledgement that you didn’t know the extent of your husband’s evil. That he likely kept it hidden from you. Or you, hidden from it. That your torture was fruitless and extraneous. Cruelty for the sake of it. 

“What happens now,” you ask, near-whisper. 

Ghost leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees, lets his hands hang nonchalantly. “Still got one use for you.” 

Your stare lands on him carefully. You breathe as though preparing yourself, a tear lands in the corner of your parted lips. You uncross your legs, hanging them slowly off the edge of the bed, hands turn to fists on your knees. 

“I thought you weren’t interested,” you squeak. 

Ghost’s jaw clenches inadvertently, biting down on nothing. Knows what you’re implying. Do you think he’s here to rape you? Here to unwrap you, to tear off that tissue that barely conceals the prize? 

His glower is probably serving as evidence. Boring into you with a hunger beyond his control. Jesus. Control yourself. 

He could do it. Fulfil your suggestion, accept your offers. Play the role of the lecherous hound you believe him to be.

You’d let him. 

You’d lie face down on that bed for him. You’d let him hitch up your hips, presenting your soft pussy for him to take. You’d let him rake down those pathetic pink knickers. You’d let him spit on his fingers and push them into you, to prepare you for the incursion of his spiteful cock. He’d curl and drive them deep, he’d make sure your pussy releases a spate of its sweet liquor just for him.   

You’d probably whine sweetly – in pain, at first, as he penetrates you, as your cunt stretches to fit him. But those muffled whimpers into the mattress would evolve into cries of shameful rapture, poignantly humiliated by how good it feels when he fucks you. He’d fuck you slowly. Deeply. He’d make sure the blunt head of his cock rams into that aching spot that makes you squeal. 

He’d coat his thumb in your syrup, he’d press the pad of it against your puckered hole. He’d listen to your cloying noises as he pushes it, popping past your tight, clenching entrance, easing it in until he’s knuckle deep. He’d feel his cock rutting in and out of you, through the thin fleshy wall between your holes. He’d feel it cinch so tightly around his thumb, pulsing in rhythm with the abashing orgasm that he fucks out of you. He’d threaten to pump you full of his come, and when you only mewl wetly in response, no dispute, fucked drunk; he’d oblige you. 

He’d let you think he’s finished. He’d give you a moment to breathe, as he pulls out of you, as his hot come drips from you, coating your thighs. Your pussy would look too pretty drenched in a concoction of your fluids and his, twitching still in the aftershock. 

So he’d flip you, hoist up your soft body by the hips as he sucks your cunt into his mouth. He’d eat another orgasm out of you, voracious and messy, he’d swallow it, and continue; just to feel you writhe in dispute of the overstimulation, just to listen to the squeals of contest that squeak from your wet throat. 

He’d leave you choking, panting for air, as he allows you to recover. He’d let you sleep, and he’d know that you’d dream of him. 

You fucking animal. 

Pulled back to reality by a shivering sigh from your chest - he’s repulsed by himself. Reels in self-loathing as his cock jolts behind his trousers, swelling in anticipation of a crime he won’t commit. 

His peers have chastised him for being a beast. An uncaring monster. The kind of animal that would fuck you while you cry, that would take pride in making it hurt.  

They’re wrong. 

You simply look at him, pupils stretched wide and dark, glassy with worry. Your cunt might be pulsing in between the thighs you hold together so tightly, readying itself for him, preparing for the worst. 

No, little rabbit, he wouldn’t do that to you. Not unless you beg him for it. 

So he leans back in his seat, feigning disinterest, hoping you don’t notice the turgid heat that radiates from him. 

“Not that, sweetheart,” he sighs hoarsely. “We’ve got a more important use for you.” 

here's your tag bestie: @rafaelacallinybbay

Next chapter ⇨

[conchcronch]

How and When They Say ‘I Love You’ for The First Time - Sanji

A/N: this is my first attempt at writing a headcanon, which I realize has turned a bit into a fic but here we are! I hope you all enjoy, I have a few more brewing!

WC: 627

Warnings: A bit of angst but that’s all

-He’s always been loud about his love, saying it at every chance he gets no matter who’s around or what the circumstances are.

-In those public moments however, you rarely say it back. Thinking his proclamations are merely his flirtatious self rather then actual confessions of love.

-It isn’t until you sit with him in the aquarium bar long after the crew has gone to bed on one of the rare nights Sanji is up late scribbling down his newest recipe in his personal cookbook that you know his confessionals are sincere.

-You had brought down a book with the intention of keeping yourself busy while he worked, but there was something about how level of focus that was fascinating to you. The way he held his bangs back so he could see clearly, how he would run his long, slender finger along his words so he could make sure they made sense before continuing. He hadn’t noticed the way you rested your cheek on your hand, eyes glued to him, a small smile on your lips.

-When he finally felt your eyes on him as he was reading over the recipe, he looking up and met your gaze.

-At first he was confused, why had you been staring at him. But all he could do was stare back, his gaze held by your stunning eyes.

-“God, I love you.” It’s not his first time saying it, but it’s the first time you really believed him. Not to say you didn’t believe him all the other times, but something about this time just felt so real.

-If you say it back, his entire face lights up. He shuts his tattered recipe book, capping his pen and pats the booth next to you “come here mon chou.” You slide your way around the velvet booth into his open arm. In the hundreds of times you had kissed Sanji, whether they were in your most intimate of moments or upon reuniting after an intense battle where you were just happy to see one another still standing, this kiss was by far the most passionate. His hands hold your face in place, as though he thought you might try to pull away before he had his fill. “Out of all the things I’m grateful for, meeting you is at the top of my list.”

-If you aren’t ready to say it back, he tries to mask his hurt. He knows how you feel for him, he can see it in your actions. But he can’t deny the stab in his chest at your inability to say it back when it’s just the two of you.

-You see the hurt in his eyes, the way he averts his gaze from you to avoid you seeing the way tears well along his waterline. He goes back his recipe book, acting like he’s writing something new, when in reality he’s going over words that were already there.

-He tries to shake it off, tries to start a new conversation but it falls flat.

-You try to apologize, explaining that you just need some time before you’re ready to say it. Whether it’s past relationships that have soured your meaning of the words, or there’s something holding you back from giving yourself fully over to this relationship it doesn’t ultimately matter.

-You excuse yourself from the table, pressing a long kiss to his forehead as you stand next to him and in that moment he can tell how you feel, that you do love him. The realization staves off his tears for the rest of the evening, but nothing can cure the pit in his stomach as he sits in the booth smoking a cigarette, and waiting until you’ve fallen asleep to come up to your shared cabin.

-As much as he knows it will hurt every time, he vows to keep telling you how he feels in those quiet moments until you’re ready to say it back to him.

[ripdragonbeans]

Not Him, I Swear // Modern!Aegon x Reader // Pt. 3

Summary: You go on your second date with Aegon and it ends up being much more fun that you anticipated.

CW: afab reader, profanity, eventual smut, Aegon being an ass, oh but he has feelings??????

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

The next few days were filled with cute texts and fluffy dates. Aegon respected your wishes and didn't push you to go any further than a make out session. It drove you crazy; you wanted him but you were scared. As much as you wanted to forget all the pain Jason caused you, it was something that stayed. It tainted your views of love, something that can be hard to make new. 

Aegon seemed too good to be true.

But you swallowed your fears and pushed on with your relationship with him. 

“Hey, man!” Cregan strolled into the room. “How's our bet going? Is she begging for you yet?” He plopped himself down next to Aegon and put his feet on the table.

Aegon rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he murmured. “No, she's not begging yet, but I'll get there.” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Gods, I almost feel bad.”

Cregan’s eyebrow rose. “Bad? Don't tell me that my best friend is actually catching feelings for someone.”

“No, I'm not catching feelings for anyone.” Aegon got up to grab another beer; his third one already, and it was barely noon.

“The way you talk about her says differently.”

“I haven't talked about her.”

“Not obviously, of course. At any mention of the bet or anything, you tense up. Something’s going on in that head.”

“Whatever, Cregan,” Aegon muttered. “Since you're so focused on annoying me, I'm gonna go to my room.” He gave his friend a mocking wave before leaving the living room to his own.

He put his head in his hands and let out a groan. He couldn't be catching feelings, he shouldn't be falling for her. But he is. 

The way she smiles. The way her eyes light up. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear. It's like looking into a bright light and being engulfed in its warmth. 

But he had to do this. He needed to prove that he could have anyone he wanted. If not to himself, then to his friend. As shallow as it was, he wanted to follow through. He hoped she wouldn't hate him in the end. 

“Hel, I really can't believe it,” you gushed. “I know you said not to get too involved with him but he's already so much better than Jason!” 

You plopped down on the couch, closed your eyes, and stretched. The wonderful feeling of being loved say well inside your heart. Despite the aching fears and the anxiety that comes along after being cheated on, the feeling of being loved triumphed ever just a tiny bit. 

“I wouldn't go ahead and say that, bestie. Please, be on your guard. You know all the stories, all the rumors, and I can even testify for some of them.” Helaena held your hands and looked you in the eye. “Be careful, please.”

A voice came from the hallway. “Yeah, what she said.” Jace walked over to the two of you sitting on the couch. He wore a grim expression on his face. “I don't mean to hurt you but I've heard that he's just trying to get you to sleep with him, all for some bet.”

Your heart sank at the thought but you pushed it aside.

“Very funny, Jace,” you said. “But I don't need that negativity in my life.”

“It's not negativity if it's true.” He looked at you with pity in his eyes. 

You shook off the expression and took a deep breath. “Why can't you two just be happy for me?” 

Helaena squeezed the hand she was holding. “We're happy for you, we just want you to be careful. We hate to see you hurt.”

“It's a risk, isn't it? All relationships are. I know Aegon and I will either end up together forever or eventually break up. It's up to us, not you two, but me and Aegon, how bad that ending will be.”

Helaena huffed. “Okay, I'll drop it. For now.”

You smiled at her. “Thank you.” You turned to address both Jace and Helaena. “Now, would you two like to know what's happening next?”

“As hesitant as I am, yes,” Helaena said. 

Jace nodded his head in agreement.

You pulled out your phone to read the text messages between you and Aegon.

“Our next date is a movie!” You announced.

There was a beat of silence before Jace broke it. “A movie? Isn't that a little cliche?”

You frowned at him. “Shut up, it's something.”

“What movie are you guys gonna catch?” Helaena cut in. 

“Oh! Um…” you bowed your head in embarrassment and mumbled your answer.

“I'm sorry? What was that?” Jace leaned in. A knowing smirk graced his lips.

You mumbled your answer again, but a little louder.

“Bestie, I still can't hear you!” 

“Shrek 2.” 

You look up in shame. The judgment you feel from them was too much.

“...I'm sorry, did you just say Shrek 2?” Clarified Jace.

“It's the best one!”

Helena laughed. “Considering it's you and Aegon, it makes sense. Weird choice, but yeah.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, time to get you date ready!”

“‘Date ready?’ Hel, I’ve got five hours until I have to leave. I have time.”

“For what I have planned for you? Nope, five hours is just enough time for me and Jace to get you set.”

Jace froze hearing his name. “Me? What do I have to do?”

“Shut up, you're moral support,” Helaena rolled her eyes in amusement. “Now, let's go.”

Helaena offered you her hand but you hesitated slightly. What if this is just a plot to convince you to not go? But when you looked at your friends all you could see was the love they had for you.

“Alright, let's get this started,” you smiled.

Four hours later had you sitting in a chair with your back straight and a mirror behind you. 

“Annnnnd done!” Helaena turned your chair around so you could see yourself.

You took in the image, your hair all done nicely, your facial features enhanced, all of it. You couldn't help the smile that made its way.

“Helaena,” you started, “my gods, you did an amazing job!” 

You turned toward Jace, who was sitting on the arm of the couch. 

“Yeah,” he said between handfuls of chips, “you look great. Aegon is gonna shit himself.” 

“I don't know about that,” you rolled your eyes. “He's been with a shit ton of other girls before me, I doubt I'm the prettiest.”

A hand smacked your head. 

“No. You're the hottest he's ever been with and will only be with for the rest of your lives.”

“Wow, and I thought you were dead set on me not being with him.”

“Only to protect you! But,” she sighed, “if this is how it goes then he better not break your heart. He does that. I'll chop up his dick in his sleep.”

“Yeah, and I'll fuck up his face,” Jace added.

You laughed at your friends, your heart full. “You two are so extra.”

“It's called being best friends,” Jace said as he joined you and Helaena at the mirror. 

Looking at the three of you, you thought of all the trials you've been through. All the heartbreak, the laughs, the highs and the lows. Without them who knows what you would be like. You interlocked your hands with both of them and leaned back.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you guys, but I'm grateful for you two and love you.”

Beep beep!

The sound of the honking car was quickly followed by a text. You picked up your phone and couldn't stop the smile. Of course Aegon would do this. As you readied yourself to leave the apartment, you did one last look in the mirror. 

You were happy with how you looked; all dolled up for the date. Just enough to be enticing but not so much in your face. With a pep in your step, you made your way to the front door. 

Aegon’s eyes went wide when he saw you. “You look…”

You nodded for him to continue.

“Amazing. You look amazing.” Aegon flashed you a big smile.

“You don't look too bad yourself,” you replied as you got in the car.

Aegon’s car was messy but it could be a lot worse. Luckily the trash wasn't food trash but rather random papers and receipts that were strewn across the floor and the back seat. It also smelled vaguely of weed.

“You smoke?” You asked him.

Aegon pulled out of the driveway. “Yeah, and I vape every now and then if I want a flavor or something. You?” 

“I've been curious about it but no, I haven't done either.”

“Wanna try? We can pull over and I can roll you a joint.”

A smile crept onto your face. There were butterflies in your stomach but you were excited to take the plunge.

Once Aegon pulled over into an unmarked parking lot, he pulled out the weed, the paper, and lighter. He was careful to roll the joint nicely for you. Once he finished he looked at his work and gave you a smile. “Ta-da! One joint rolled for my kitten.”

“Okay, cool. I can do this.” You told yourself.

Aegon looked at you with concern. “You don't have to smoke if you don't want to.”

“No, but I really want to.”

“Okay.” He nodded his head. “I'll light it. Then all you have to do is inhale through your mouth, hold it for a bit then exhale through your mouth. Simple.”

“Simple. Right.”

“Okay, here we go.”

Aegon lit it then brought the joint up to your mouth. You gently wrapped your lips around the tip and you did as he said. 

Inhale.

You felt the smoke fill your mouth.

Hold.

You let it sit and go down your throat.

Exhale.

A puff of smoke flew out of your mouth.

As a calming sensation sprinkled through your body you have Aegon a relaxed smile.

“You feeling okay?” Aegon asked you 

You laughed a bit. “Yeah, I feel good.”

Aegon took a drag from the joint himself. “Wanna get high before we watch the movie?”

“Hell yeah.”

Before heading off to the movie theater, you and Aegon shared the joint. It didn't take long for you to get high but Aegon finished it off. He was careful not to get higher than just having a buzz since he was driving. The rest of the ride was filled with you babbling about everything and nothing. Aegon smiled and let you go on. 

Arriving at the theater, you let out a little giggle. “I'm so excited for this, Aegon.” You slurred his name.

“Yeah.” He couldn't stop himself from smiling at you. Getting out of the car, he circled around to open the passenger door. “Time to get out, kitten.”

You giggled again. “I like that you call me kitten. It's cute and it kinda turns me on.”

Aegon gulped down a breath. “That's great; time to see the movie.”

Letting go of Aegon’s hand, you put both of yours on his chest. “I wanna be with you.”

He pushed your hands down and kept them firmly in his. Aegon looked you in the eye. “And we will but not like this. I want you to be sober when I take you.”

You huffed. “Okay.”

Finally getting you to step out of the car, Aegon went back to only holding one hand as he led you through the parking lot and into the theater.

“Mmm I want popcorn and an Icee,” you said as soon as you walked in. The smell of popcorn immediately surrounded you.

“I'll get you popcorn and a water,” Aegon said.

You stamped your foot. “But I want an Icee!”

He tugged on your hand to get you to look at him. “Kitten, you need water. Trust me, okay?”

“Okay.” Another giggle escaped you.

After buying popcorn and water, Aegon led the way to your numbered theater to watch Shrek 2. At first you wanted to sit up front but he pulled you away to the rows in the back.

“No one needs to know you're high,” he said as you made your way up the stairs. 

“But you know I'm high,” you observed.

“I'm the one that got you high, kitten.”

“Oh, yeah.”

As you sat down in your chair, all you could think about was getting as close to Aegon as possible. Thankfully, these were the newer, fancier theater chairs. You reclined your chair and moved the armrest out of the way so you could lean on Aegon.

“You and popcorn,” you said as you snuggled up to him. “The best combination ever.”

“Don't forget Shrek.”

“And Shrek.”

Aegon kissed the top of your head as the lights went down and the movie began.

While Shrek 2 was already one of the funniest moments of all time, watching it high made it even funnier.

“Prince Charming looks like Jason,” you whispered, eyes wide. “I bet his dick is small like Jason’s, too.”

Aegon choked on his water. He stole a look at you but all he saw was a girl high as fuck while watching Shrek 2. Gods, he wanted to kiss you then and there.

The movie continued with your constant one liners about how everything in Shrek related to something or someone in your life. Somehow you were Shrek, Fiona was Aegon (which he was happy about), Donkey was Helaena, and Puss in Boots was Jace. To you, it all made sense. To Aegon, it was simply blabbering that entertained him.

As the credits rolled on the screen, you lolled your head against Aegon’s shoulder once again. “I’m tired, Aeg.”

“You’re coming down from your high, kitten,” he assured you. “Time to get up and head home.”

“I don’t wanna move.” You slunk down in your seat.

Aegon laughed. “They’re gonna kick us out anyway if you don’t get up. What if I helped you?”

You held out both arms. “Yes, please.”

Aegon moved to stand in front of you to pull you up. Instead of letting go, however, he tucked you into his side. Together, you made your way out of the movie theater.

“Can we go to your place?” you asked him as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“No, I’m going to drop you off at my sister’s.”

All of a sudden you wanted to cry. “Why? Do you not like me?”

“That’s not it. You’re high and I’m going to take care of you.”

Your mood instantly switched. “I’d love for you to take care of me.” Heat began pooling in your belly while you placed a hand on his thigh.

Reluctantly, Aegon moved your hand off of him. “Not like that. I’m going to be responsible this one time and take you back to Helaena’s.”

“Come on, be irrisp, irrrrsp, irrisponble this one time.”

“If you want to be in my bed you’re going to have to be sober, kitten.”

You crossed your arms. “Boo, you’re no fun.”

“I know, what a bore.” He turned into the driveway. “Time to go.” He walked over to your side to open the door and walk you to the front. “I loved tonight.”

“I love you too, Aegon,” you yawned.

Aegon stopped, stunned. “I think you mean you loved tonight.”

You hummed. “No, I love you.”

He nodded his head, mouth slightly agape, as he took you Helaena’s room. When he knocked on the door Helaena popped out.

Her eyes instantly went to you, leaning all your weight on Aegon. “What did you do?!”

Aegon shrugged. “She wanted to get high so I let her. I only got buzzed but she is definitely high.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“It’s loud,” you moaned. “And bright.”

“Gods, get her in here.” Helaena motioned for Aegon to bring you into the room.

Immediately, you went for the bed and flopped down. Aegon was careful as he tucked you in. Helanea watched in awe of how sweet he was being to you. As soon as you drifted off to sleep, Helaena took Aegon into the hallway to talk.

“Have you been like this all night?” she questioned.

“You mean like the wonderful gentleman I am? Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you being so kind to her?”

He shrugged. “What can I say, Hel. I like her.”

“No, when you like girls you just charm them and then fuck them. This is the second date you’ve gone on with her. Something is up.”

Aegon ran his hand down his face. “Let me do this, just once, let me be the good guy.”

Helaena looked at him warily. “Fine. But if you do anything to hurt her, I will personally destroy your life.”

[fae-morrigan]

Someone put a post (where they admit they straight up dont know these characters lol, and also spell damian as 'damien' so like. yknow.) in the tags saying that if you're a fan of Jon & Jay, you shouldn't buy super son. Well, as the crowned CEO of Jay & Jon, I'm here to tell you guys that you absolutely should.

Super Son did the amazing thing of hitting several marks that I predicted while still managing to surprise me in how they hit them. Which is high praise for any story: A great narrative should be able to both meet reasonable audience expectations (i.e, staying in character, setup payoff) WHILE STILL throwing in curveballs that tell you something new.

There's a lot I want to analyze and get into, namely how I think the rooftop conversation between Jon & Nia is really brilliantly done in what it says about both characters, but mainly I've been thinking a lot about how great those last few pages were and how I think Sina absolutely nails how Jon & Jay's specific issues interact with each other.

Jay's always been a blunt person. From their first meeting back in SOKE 2, hes said what he thinks, and rarely does he try and soften himself. More than that, his bluntness is often a shield from vulnerability, which Jay struggles with the whole scene. It makes total sense, after what hes experienced (re-traumatization at the hands of a friend) that he's displaying that trait again.

Jon, however, is immediately vulnerable. This is the most poignant confession of the issue: Not even in the amazing sequence of Nia helping him make a place in the darkness (look, its back, thanks isabel!) do we get this admission of fear.

And Jay, like always, embraces him. Sidenote, LOVE how they got in the thing Jon does where he's constantly tucking his face in people's shoulders during hugs.

But the moment ends, and we get here. First of all, cold af. I could feel the aura before I turned the page.

Second of all: Jay is totally valid in feeling this way. And it makes perfect sense that he would.

Sara was his everything. Getting her back was one of his main motivations in SOKE. Because of Nia's actions, she died horribly (do you know what happens to a person when they fall from that sort of height? I do. Its AWFUL.) for an unjust cause. Of course he's glad she can't hurt anyone else!

And that's when we get to my FAVORITE PART! Oh how I love this bit. Because like. You understand why Jon's angry- Its a harsh thing for Jay to say! Nia was the one who kept him sane while he was trapped in his own mind! But Jay, like always, is RIGHT: Jon DOESN'T get it. How could he?

Jon Kent will NEVER, ever, be put in this position. Out of universe, his parents are Clark Kent and Lois Lane. They'll ALWAYS come back. Hell, the fact they'll always come back is something Ma LITERALLY says to Jon in SOKE. He will never, ever have to know this pain.

In universe, Jon's a white american. Despite being queer, despite being an alien, he'll never know what its like to be this kind of collateral, delegated as pawns in a greater war for 'freedom'. That is what killed Sara at the end of the day: imperialism.

This next bit hurts my heart. Great job, guys!

For one: Jon claims he's not excusing the mistakes Nia made, but by downplaying it like this... yes he is. But did you catch that part? Right at the start of that bubble?

"I'm going to fight every day to make up for my own part in this."

That's where it clicked for me. Something I had been hoping for since Nicole first called them twin flames.

He's projecting.

Of COURSE he's defending Nia. Of COURSE he wants Jay to forgive her. It isn't just about the fact that she gave him support, it isn't just the dreams, its the fact that... well. If Jay can't forgive her... how could he EVER forgive HIM?

THIS is where the fact that Jon and Nia are so similar as character SINGS. They become mirrors to each other, evaluating their own self worth through the other, at the unintentional expense of the people they've hurt.

Jay's right, though. Again. Its almost like he's the embodiment of the truth or something. He doesn't HAVE to do anything.

When he starts crying though, I immediately was RUINED. This is the first time we have EVER seen him cry before during his entire existence of a character. And its not really even because his mom is dead (though yes, that) and its not even because of the argument. Its because Jay fundamentally wants to be understood, and he's not getting that.

Which is important for the next bit:

I want to first backtrack a bit to Son of Kal El again, specifically, issue fourteen, right here.

Hello, two-panel sequence that succinctly describes these two as characters. How convenient you are for me, a guy analyzing a work that isn't written prose.

Jon isn't good at letting go, for better or for worse. The things he cares about stay with him, and when something or someone tries to exit his life, he clings to them with all his might.

Jay however, both selflessly and selfishly, is willing to let go first if he thinks its better for the other person. To me this line so effortlessly summarizes who Jay is- he's a person who's accustomed to not having things, and will leave before it hurts and he gets too attached.

And that thought is ALL over this scene. Jay, who begins to let go, Jon, who both literally and physically CLINGS to jay, practically begging him to stay.

(Sidenote. This is like, the third time Jay mentions breaking up when Jon starts acting up. Good for you king, keep that white boy on his toes, let him know he ain't all that.)

Every little detail of this four panel sequence is killing me. "My worst nightmare is not having a home with you in it." His greatest desire. The thing that kept tipping him off in every fake reality Nia constructed for him- Jay's absence. Him wiping the tear of Jay's cheek. Jay walking away from him.

But what really gets me is how on this page, Jon talks about them as 'we', while Jay is firmly stuck in 'I.'

This is what made me LOSE MY MARBLES at three in the morning. Just utterly fucking off my rocker in a straightjacket talking to myself.

Because this is what JON wants. But is it what JAY wants?

Jon never asks.

What about what Jay fears? What about the life that HE wants? What if he doesn't want San Francisco? What if the life he wants is the life he HAD before everything went wrong? Jon outright says he wants a fresh start. But Jay, Jay's someone with such deep connections to what he just lost, what he likely WANTS to get back. His country. His mother. His sense of self. But. He says yes.

(Sidenote. FIRST I LOVE YOU WOOOOOOOOOO) To quote my buddy Dami: Oh, the drama of needing a future with someone who can't get over the past.

It is left unclear, by the end, whether or not Jay is saying yes to this because he genuinely wants to, or if he's only saying yes because he doesn't want to lose Jon, too. Jon doesn't stop to question whether or not Jay's only reaching after him because Jon's walking away. We, the audience, are left to ponder that for ourselves.

How much of Jay saying yes is him just accepting that this is the best he's going to get? That he's never going to be understood because nobody wants to understand?

He's an afterthought to Nia, an obstacle at best, and to Jon he's a particularly handsome prop in this little fantasy he has of running away and starting new. He's either not thought of at all, or when he is thought about, it's in the context of how he can emotionally fulfill the other person And you get why Jon did this. He's desperate, he's hurting, he just got tangible evidence that the time he has with the people he loves isn't ever guaranteed. He's been needing space from Clark and Lois for MONTHS because god knows they haven't been fulfilling his emotional needs. In a very real sense, Jay is who he has.

But wanting someone to stay with you so much that you'll... Not even ignore, but just not ever consider what they may want. The intentional isolation, moving halfway across the country away from all support systems. The need to cling to someone.

It reminds me of... something. Someone.

Don't tell Jon I made this comparison. He'll kill himself. Jon and Ultraman ARE similar. They're both such deeply lonely people who cling very tightly and even though it manifests in different ways and even though they have different core thoughts about it. The effect at the end of the day is the same, isn't it?

Is loving Jay not a brutal act of destruction?

There's so many more details about this story I love. Jon & Nia's conversation being vague enough that you have no idea how Jon meant what he told her but you KNOW how NIA took it (girl you can do better hes literally ugly!). Jon breaking a pillar by bonking his head against it (LMFAO). The pretty lies vs ugly truth dichotomy of Jay vs Nia here.

But this one scene, man. This one fucking scene takes the cake. STELLAR work all around. Every panel counts.

This better lead into a full Superman & Gossamer run or SOMETHING or I'm going to have WORDS with DC's editorial staff.

[redsrooftopprincess]

Assassin Part 2

Fem reader x Raphael

Warnings: alcohol/drunkenness

Part 1

The wedding had been beautiful, and the reception was a blast. But now the party was beginning to thin as guests made their way to their lodgings for the night, and you've been watching them them leave from your place on the front steps of the main house.

The benefit of having a wedding on property you own is that you don't really have to clean up all that much until morning. As such, you've been posted here, making your way steadily through your own personal bottle of champagne, for the last hour.

You take a long draw from the bottle before setting it back down. Things had been going so well.

You look up when a shadow falls over the moon.

"Oh, hey Specs." You say to your exceptionally tall friend. Donatello sits down beside you on the steps.

He picks up the champagne bottle and swishes it to see how much is left. Yup. You're drunk.

"So, what was all that about?"

You shake your head, at a loss "I have no idea."

You think back over the Wedding for the millionth time in the last hour. You'd walked down the aisle with Raphael arm in arm, and *damn* that reptile could rock a suit. You remember really hoping that the amount of formal makeup you were wearing was enough to cover the flush of warmth in your skin every time he brushed against you and the very thin fabric of your dress. It was criminal, how handsome he was.

You remember your mind drifting during the ceremony to wishes and what-ifs. You'd glanced at him while April was saying her vows. Comfort, safety, home... Gravity. The person you keep coming back to. Why was your brain suddenly checking off boxes?

When the bride was being kissed you couldn't help but look over at him once more. Your... friend? Is that what he is...? The word doesn't seem right. Enough.

D is your best friend. You know what "best friend" feels like. But Raphael... You don't know what these feelings are. You've never felt like this about anyone. This *need*. To have him close. Closer. Finding reasons just to be around him. Coming up with excuses to touch him, just to feel his skin against yours.

Every relationship you've ever been in has felt like work, but things are *easy* with Raphael. Natural. It left you second guessing yourself. Wasn't it supposed to be hard? Weren't you supposed to have to try? Was it really love if you didn't have to fight for it?

April tossed the bouquet and you were the "lucky" one. The moment it hit your hands you decided you were going to talk to him about all of this. Maybe it wouldn't completely blow up in your face. Maybe he would be willing to see where this goes. After all, the night was already so magical, maybe you could squeeze out one more miracle.

Someone had approached you, placed their hand on your arm, and asked you to dance. In the moment it took you to say, "just a sec," he was gone.

You'd looked around for a moment, completely abandoning whoever it was that had asked you to dance, and finally spotted him walking toward the house. You ran to catch up.

"Hey, where's the fire, Red?" You'd giggled as you stumbled on the uneven ground, (more than) a little tipsy.

You'd felt the sigh, more than heard it when he stopped walking, and your brow furrowed. "You okay, Bruiser?" You'd asked gently.

"Yeah..." He'd said without turning around.

"Doesn't seem like 'yeah,'" you'd observed, walking around to face him. "What's up?"

"Nothin'. 'm just tired. Gonna head in early." He wouldn't meet your eyes. You were too buzzed to notice. Instead, you saw an opportunity.

Privacy was perfect! Exactly what you needed for what you had planned! "Great! I'll come with you!" You'd chirped brightly, as he attempted to side step you. You'd touched his arm. That's all.

As your skin brushed his he turned in a flash and had you by the wrist, his expression unreadable. It didn't hurt, he'd never hurt you, but his grip was like iron, and his eyes cold as steel. You'd never seen him like this. Completely guarded.

He held your gaze, almost searching for something, before realizing what he was doing and releasing you quickly. He muttered an apology, reiterated that he was tired, and took off toward the house.

You stood there dumbfounded for several long moments, trying to process what just happened. You considered going after him, but then thought better of it. Something was wrong and it obviously had something to do with you. You being around might just make whatever this was worse. You'd spotted Splinter heading toward the house as well and decided he was better suited to tend to Raphael.

You try to think past the haze of intoxication. You can't remember doing anything that might upset him. In fact, the last time you got to actually talk was before the ceremony and things were great then. At the reception you'd asked him, practically begged him, to dance with you several times. But he was always busy with something else. With the help of your good friend Dom Pérignon, you'd practically been throwing yourself at him all evening. And every time you'd approached him he'd seemed more and more uncomfortable...

Oh.

It must be love. Because this hurts.

You'd ruined it. You'd committed the cardinal sin of catching feelings. You'd condemned yourself even more by attempting to act on them. He was pissed. You'd upset the balance, changed everything, your relationship would never be the same... and it was all your fault.

"Do you wanna hear something stupid?" You say quietly, barely able to speak over the shattering in your chest.

"Shoot," Donnie says, taking a swig from the near empty bottle.

"I think I'm in love with your brother."

Now, Donatello has never had expensive taste, and you wouldn't think an internal organ would have any opinion. But for a second there, Donnie's lungs are drinking champagne.

Coughing, sputtering, and cursing whoever first discovered fermentation, he looks down at you trying to catch his breath. It would have been hilarious if you hadn't just ruined your own life.

"And I'm pretty sure he knows and I'm pretty sure he hates me," you say, as your eyes fill with tears. "Donnie, I think I ruined everything..."

........

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos

[the-kr8tor]

I'm sorry about the last one I just got way too excited to express my admiration for your works, I forgot to check!! But I've checked now and I saw The "Imagine if Hobie was prowler" that actually sounds really cool!! I was thinking if you could write something about that, maybe Reader is someone who he cares a lot for but it turns out they're also fighting against each other, (I haven't actually tackled the whole Universe of spiderman so I was genuinely just thinking of Reader as someone with powers TvT) but yeah I got a bit curious about that, I'm not sure if you wrote about that yet since I haven't went in all the master list and hopefully I don't finish it yet cause I'd be left with the deep emptiness (I love all the series so finishing it while it's ongoing would devastate medhdhx) but if you did you can discard my message or if this is too much, that's alright!!

Oh and I'm really happy I didn't make you Uncomfortable it's my first time writing something to a writer and I got anxious TvT I hope you have a great day!!

No worries! You're good! I put my own spin on it, I hope you like it! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Prowler! Hobie Brown x gn! Reader

Word count: 1k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw blood, cw violence, cw injury, tw death, Prowler! Hobie, Venom! Reader, ANGST.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The air runs cold, and your breath staggers in your throat. The fighting around you hasn't stopped, nor all the screaming, and bleeding flesh. But everything seems to cease when you see him. The noises deafen, debris and blood stilling in the air— Hobie in all his glory, covered in metal and crimson iron. Hobie, whose face is obscured by steel plates over his familiar face, purple smoke ebbing out of his suit. And yet, despite his rough and intimidating exterior, despite his sharp claws and sharper gaze, your heart still longs for him. He still feels like home.

Home, you haven't thought of it in years, the trees that dance in the wind, soft lavender wandering through the air. And your little house in the middle of the fields you once shared with him. A house that now ceased to exist, burned to ashes, nothing left but dark soot and blackened smoke that seemed endless. Ever burning, flames still snaking along the lavender fields, forever burying your memories with him under the red hungry flames. Those memories still live with you, deep down. You hope it still lives with him. If not, you'd rip it from your heart and hand it to him in your waiting ruby drenched palms.

“H-Hobie?” You ask in a broken tone, even though your soul knows him from where you stand. In between gore soaked bodies, bodies you've ripped and chewed yourself— he stands there motionless. You wonder if he still bears the warmth you used to hold in your arms.

The metal bridge creaks and squeaks, hinges about to give up from the stress of the fighting in its steel embrace. Tethering close to devouring every soul standing on its last life. You've felt the earth collapse years ago. If the ground fell from under you, would you notice?

Hobie doesn't answer, you see his chest rise and fall, gauntlets leaking blood. You don't know if it's his or someone else's, you just know it's not yours. Not yet. Would he hurt you?

You stand there, all worn out, arms bleeding and throbbing, legs trembling from the sheer pain. And yet, your eyes never leave his own mechanical mask, as if you can see the worry behind the steel curtains.

He stands there, heart ripped out, still beating atop the bodies laid out in front of him. He stands there, but he should walk towards you, run towards you and hold you. Hold you like he once had in that lavender field he once called home, hold you as if he didn't lose you all those years ago.

To live in his delusion, to never leave from the haze of the past. He longs for it, to stay where he once held you.

But the blackened tendrils coming out of your wounds is the one that he's fighting against. It curls around you, wrapping you in its mass. White eyes in place of your own that he sees in his dreams, sharp claws and lolling tongue— he doesn't see you anymore. Can't see you underneath the obsidian flesh of his enemy. He wonders if it's still you under it.

With a gutteral screech from the large mouth of the alien mass inhabiting your body, he takes his guitar from his back to pluck its strings. The noise could kill you, or it could liberate you. So he decides, and he plays.

The sound reverberates around the bridge, the creaking pauses for a moment, replaced by the ear piercing shrieks from the venoms. Hobie sees you crumble to your knees, tentacles of black slime ripped apart at the seams.

Your face is revealed under the mass, contorted into pain, the light in your eyes slowly fading as the creature feeds on your very being. Your nails dig into the slimy flesh, desperately trying to rip it out from your body. Eyes meeting with Hobie's, you nod for him to continue despite the blood spilling from your ears.

With bated breath, he strums again. More shrieking, more screaming, flesh torn apart, teeth chattering above the sound. His eyes never leave from your suffering as tears prick from his eyes. Grief snakes along his stomach up to his chest, pressing hard on his heart.

“Again!” You yell, ripping and gnawing at the agony filled venom. He follows, another strum, and another, one by one, venoms leave their hosts, and one by one, the bridge's wires collapse. But your own demon doesn't yield, it clings to you like a babe, holding onto you like a lifeline.

“C’mon!” Hobie stalks closer, plucking his strings over and over again despite your screams that would haunt his dreams. The venom wraps around you in its cold embrace, your own screams stifled with its arm over your mouth, choking you. “No!”

The bridge crumbles, someone tries to yank him away and take him to safety. But he shrugs them off, even if it means his own death.

“Hobie!” You manage to yell, “run!” It has you in a chokehold, dark veins ebbing from its touch towards your skin. It's killing you with it. Swallowing you in darkness, drowning you.

He abandons his guitar to dig you out of the mass. He rips out a chunk but it's immediately replaced and healed. Your muffled breaths can still be heard from under, he doesn't leave you. He won't leave you to die in the arms of the thing that took you from him.

Claws cutting and tearing, he heaves, breath stuck in his lungs. Yanking his helmet off, you see his face from the last pinprick of light. You wish there was a smile on his face instead of the desperation and fear. Still, you wished for home and you got it.

He pleads, and he calls for you, and his face is the last thing you saw before you fell into the suffocating depths.

The bridge collapses from under his feet, and he falls with you, holding onto you, plunging into the icy tides below. In the water, venom dissolves into nothingness, and he could finally hold you again as he joins you on the other side.