#I'm gonna claw my hair out please help | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonlight-prose · 4 months ago

Text

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 01. IN DREAMS WE REST

a/n: i've been stressed about this fic probably more than any other i've ever written. not because it's logan per se, but because wade wilson makes me want to rip my hair out. i love that bastard, but writing him feels like pulling teeth. i'm in love with this concept solely for the angst, so if you see more throughout and wonder if they will ever get a happy ending, please know i'm dead inside. enjoy!

summary: stuck in another universe and unsure of where he stands, logan expects things to even out as they always did. but when you cross his path and you have no idea who he is, he's in for a rude awakening.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, angst, cussing so much cussing, alcohol consumption, grief, pain, a broken man pretending he's not broken, chance encounters, awkward conversations, hope.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He can hear it when he sleeps.

Their screams.

The constant ring of agony that chimes out like a bell, an alarm he never set for himself. A joke once told to him in the midst of World War II, as bullets flew by him and soldiers lost their lives each second of each day. There's no escape from hell. No running from the devil that nipped at his heels the faster he went, the longer he tried to navigate a way free.

There's no escape from the memories that ate away in his mind. Multitudes of them, of the faces he once called family, the people he used to love. They were his punishment. The boulder he continued to roll up the hill, day after day after day. Until eventually...he was crushed by his own self-hatred.

"Logan." The voice whispered long enough for him to grasp who it might be, yet never louder than a mere breath of air.

He clung to it some days. Sunk his claws into what little of his past remained good and allowed it to fill him with some amount of peace. At least then he'd be able to bear this weight, this grief he could never quite name.

Something light brushed across his cheek. Tickling the skin enough to send a flare of irritation down his spine, but the dreams held him in their grasp. What came next never surprised him. He expected it at this point—longed for it. The distant pain of losing what once made him whole; the entirety of his life now defined by one single moment he could never change.

"He sleeps so sweetly. I just want to curl up in his arms and have him read me bedtime stories."

"He's not gonna like that when he wakes up."

"Zip it Al. If I wanted an opinion, I'd go see a Hollywood therapist."

A scoff echoed in the background. "No therapist wants you on their couch."

"Not true. I hear Ryan Reynolds has a great one."

"Who?"

"Not the point." The feather dusted across Logan's face again, soft enough to keep him asleep yet annoying enough to bring a smile to Wade's face. "I wonder if he's dreaming about killing bad guys. They say it's good for the soul."

"Who the fuck is they?"

Wade laughed. "Oh you know. Them. The readers. And boy howdy do they love their blood."

Every day he was forced to listen to Wade's voice became another day Logan dragged his claw through a tally mark of his sanity. "Do you ever shut the fuck up," he growled, gripping Wade's wrist until he heard the satisfying crack of bones.

"Only when I swallow."

"I'll tear your fuckin' arm off."

The smile on Wade’s face only added another tally. "Nice kitty. No need for the claws."

Anger washed across his skin in a familiar wave as he released Wade's arm, watching it go limp. Trying to kill the unkillable walking irritation was like trying to swat a fly that never quite died. It still buzzed incessantly. Until eventually madness was the only viable option of dealing with it. In his case, he seemed to be driving head on with no brakes.

Logan wasn't sure he possessed enough sanity left within him to keep dealing with this. Sleeping on the couch didn't help the way his body never rested; always stuck in that permanent fighting mode. He'd give anything to find some peace. A small sliver of it carved off the past that continued to call him—that begged him to come back and try again.

Swinging his legs off the couch, he planted a swift kick to Wade's chest that sent him across the floor. The lack of caffeine in his system left everything hazy and half coherent. If he focused he might have caught the keys thrown at him, but being exhausted and sober didn't make for a good combination with him. An empty whiskey bottle lay discarded on the floor from last night; the memories of how he passed out barely tinged on the edge of his mind.

He could recall stabbing Wade in the leg.

Nothing beyond that.

Dried blood—now an ugly brown—stained his white shirt. He nearly stripped himself of it, prepared to throw it in with whoever was washing next, but his flannel being chucked at his head caught him off guard.

"Fuck off," he snapped, stumbling to the kitchen.

Wade sighed, following him. "Get dressed, peanut. We have to go do human things today."

"Human–”

"Food," Al retorted. "We're out."

Even in a new universe, he couldn't see himself acting normal. For so long he did what had to in order to survive. Yet now...he wasn't so sure. Accompanying Wade Wilson in order to complete household chores left a bad taste in his mouth. But the thought of fresh coffee and an unopened bottle of whiskey sounded like sweet silver bells in his head.

With reluctance, he buttoned up half of the flannel before he became annoyed with the small size of the holes punched into the fabric. There was only so much he could do with the life he had now. And sometimes shit really sucked.

"Don't scratch my fucking car," Al pointed her words towards Wade, thankfully ignoring Logan's existence for a brief moment.

"Is it safe for her to own a car?"

The door shut behind him with a bang, echoing down the vacant hallway. He was surprised people actually lived here given Wade's antics. They could hear the loud mouthed fucker across the street—if the angry notes in the mail were anything to go by. He didn't bother asking if he should be concerned with any of it. Not when he had no say in how the house was run. And choosing to insert himself where he wasn’t needed, rarely went well for him.

"God no. But I give her the benefit of the doubt. She hasn't killed anyone. Yet."

He yanked the keys out of Wade's hand. "Yeah well I don't trust you either Bub."

The car didn't leave room for his legs as he squeezed into the driver's side. His body practically folded in half as he turned it over—the rumble of the engine rattling against metal. How Blind Al managed to pay for this vehicle went beyond even Wade's knowledge, and in all honesty…he was too fucking scared to ask.

Too much seemed to be happening for him to ever catch up. While this Earth felt similar to his, small things were different. And when they began to add up...he began to wonder if he was drowning.

"Turn left to merge onto the asscrack of traffic."

He barely heard the directions as he drove, his mind drifting the further they went. Part of him sensed the grief from earlier begin to claw up the back of his throat. It begged him to fall, to be swallowed whole by the darkness he'd been stuck in before. And he nearly gave in; could feel his body shift into its constant mode of fight or flight.

The steering wheel cracked under his white knuckled grip as Wade's voice became an afterthought to the war he fought in his mind. Terror trapped itself in his throat and he slammed his foot on the brakes a foot away from a parking spot in retaliation. The car lurched forward, his claws descended. A snarl rumbled in his chest the longer he sat there thinking.

"Woah..." For the first time in days, Wade fell silent. "You alright?"

Logan ripped himself free, shoving his body out of the car before he even threw it in park. He gulped in breath after breath and did his best to wait for this fucking feeling to leave his system. The nightmares only came as he slept. A constant familiar horror show after two centuries.

Yet now he was left like this. Leaned up against a car, his eyes closed shut, and heart racing.

All because he couldn't do his fucking job.

"Logan–"

He snapped, shoving past Wade and his pity that choked him with a vengeance. He didn't deserve anyone's pity. He didn't want it. But people couldn't help but hand it over unconsciously. As if they could see the layers of broken pieces beneath his false expression of strength. Logan never pretended to be okay. Why bother with something people could see right through?

He merely wanted others to ignore he was there. Walk past him, look through him, do whatever it took to pretend that him and all his tragedies weren't standing before them. Because one day he would die and fuck how he couldn't wait for that time to come.

A small hole in the wall dive bar sat in the corner of the shopping center. He barely caught sight of it. But the unmistakable scent of alcohol poured out the door as someone stumbled out—their eyes squeezed shut against the harsh brightness of the sun. He could understand them in a way.

His world didn't have sunlight this bright. Or perhaps he never noticed it ‘til now.

Maybe his body wasn't acclimated yet; unsure of what the fuck was still happening. Everything seemed to be turned up to eleven for him, yet no off switch existed.

The dark hazy glow of the interior sent a wave of calm through him as the door swung shut with a soft thud. Four people sat scattered around the place and a bartender with white and graying hair stood cleaning a glass so foggy it was probably better to throw it out. He found himself letting out a breath that'd been trapped in his chest since that morning. Finally some peace before he had to listen to Wade yap about bullshit he didn't in fact give a shit about.

"What'll you have?" the old man asked, his face screwing up in a wince as he limped towards Logan's spot at the end of the bar.

A quick glance down let him see the brace wrapped around the man's knee. "Whiskey on the rocks."

He nodded, slowly heading towards the center of the wall—a lonesome half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. Logan shifted, taking the center seat directly behind the man.

"I can't say I've seen you around before son."

He grinned, his finger tracing a random carving that'd been placed in the wood. "I just moved here. Living with a coworker."

"Coworker huh?"

The word didn't sound right to Logan, but he couldn't exactly call Wade his friend. Although they were more than people who fought together, more than men who shared blood during the same battle. That was the thing about Logan though. He'd never be able to put a label on something like that. To him...things weren't one or the other as much as he wanted to pretend they were. There was nuance to his life.

Complications which made living that much harder.

The man turned, surprised to see Logan so close, but didn't make note of it. Logan could see the gratitude in the way his drink was slid carefully to him. The small silent thank you in the bowl of pretzels placed beside it.

"You look lost."

Logan grunted, biting into the salty and dry snack. "Do I?"

"More than some of the others that come around here."

"And who comes around here?"

The man laughed. "No one as of late. You're the first young man I've seen in a while walk through those doors."

He bit back his laugh at the word young. The stories he could tell would leave the man baffled. About wars that no living person had witnessed. About when the world was far different than today—when mutants were freaks of nature and humans were far less forgiving. He could list it all and then some.

But whether or not someone would listen was another thing entirely.

"This place that old?" he inquired, sipping on the amber liquid with a contented sigh.

"Oh you bet." A weary laugh filled the space. "I bought this place in the sixties. When my wife was still my girlfriend. She almost left me because of it."

Logan huffed, his lips curling slightly. "She wasn't a fan?"

The man shook his head, tossing a cloth over his shoulder. "Still isn't. Well she...wasn't." He pressed his thumb to the worn gold band on his left hand. "When she was alive she used to host a book night. Helped bring in the men's wives. Kept them outta trouble."

"Book night huh?"

"She loved to read."

Before he could down the final sips of his drink it was topped off. Logan nodded his head in thanks, his thumb digging into the thumbprint shape of the glass. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost see himself coming here every night. He pictured a life far different than his own, a past where he might have been happy. With someone who might have even made him smile.

"I'm not much of a reader," he replied, his voice hoarse and eyes fixed on the ice that floated to the surface.

"Ah me too," the man laughed. "I just liked seeing her smile."

A soft remark was on the tip of his tongue before an entirely new image began to take shape. The face of someone lost. Of a smile he'd known better than his own. Hands that once held his face with the tenderness of a lover—a voice that sent the hair rising on the back of his neck. He could see it as clear as he did the man.

You in all your beauty. Lost to a past he could no longer rectify.

He swallowed thickly, beating back every emotion that crawled under his skin. "What's your name?"

"Travis."

Raising his glass, he tipped it towards the man with a tight grin. "Logan." The alcohol went down with a quick and biting burn. A feeling he'd grown familiar with. One he counted on.

"Nice to meet you Logan."

"Yeah you too."

He dug out some cash and tossed it on the bar as he stood with a slight grunt. He may heal quickly but the ache in his bones still existed. As if something resisted against how his body moved with each slow shift.

Fighting meant he could ignore it.

Existing is what made it worse.

The sun practically burned his eyes when he stepped out, the heat of the day encompassing his whole body quicker than he would have liked. For some unknown fucking reason, summer here felt worse than on his Earth. Then again the alcohol didn't help. He stood in the shade of the building next to the bar, searching the parking lot for any sign of Wade.

Going into the store wasn't an option and as much as he wanted to leave the annoyance behind, he didn't want to feel like a piece of shit. That is...even more than he already did.

"Fuck," he hissed, leaning against the brick wall. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

One option would be taking a walk to work off the energy that ran through his veins. At least then he'd be able to sleep at night. And the temptation almost worked. If it weren't for the shop doors that opened to his left, effectively distracting him from the chance of leaving. He could have ignored the person, probably should have given everything he'd been through.

But then his heart dropped to his stomach as you walked out. He'd never seen you in such a soft sundress before, the off white fabric draped off your curves in a way that floored him. As if you were an angel floating by without a care in the world. You were busy shoving a small piece of paper in your purse, your face furrowed in frustration, and Logan smiled. Because he'd traced each line of that face before, he'd kissed those cheeks, your eyelids as you slept.

He'd loved you in ways that would scare a normal human.

And there you were.

"Honey?" he called, unconsciously following you quicker than he intended to. "Honey."

You glanced to the side, completely unaware of the giant lumbering man trailing after you with a soft look on his face and hope in his hands.

That alone tore him in two more than the memories from before.

"Baby, it's me."

The breeze finally went through the air, pushing the skirt of your dress a bit higher on your thighs. Except that's not what he latched onto. Your scent was different. Unlike any he'd encountered before. Honey still sweetly caressed his senses, but flowers overlayed that—peonies if he guessed. Delicious enough to have his mouth watering; his body already aching for you to be closer. To look at him in the way you used to.

He wanted to call out to you—gain your attention properly—but your name wouldn't leave his tongue. Because you were there and you finally caught sight of him and you were looking at him as if nothing bad ever happened between the two of you.

You saw him as a man.

Not a disappointment.

He willed himself to stop and breathe. Take in his surroundings; realize that you weren't who he once knew. You weren't even the same fucking person.

But before he could think straight, he'd already followed you halfway to your car. His eyes were dazed, heart nearly throttling him alive as he stood there dumbly. Waiting for you to finally speak.

"Oh..." Your heart rate spiked quicker than he expected. He couldn't find it in himself to feel bad though. "Hello?"

"Honey," he sighed, the weight on his shoulders lifting ever so slightly.

He caught the way your fingers tightened around your keys, the defense mechanism an instinct by now. And Logan realized what he looked like. A strange man standing too close for your liking. So he took a step back and gave you some space. In the hopes that you wouldn't see him as a threat. That maybe...you'd listen to what he had to say.

"Can I help you?" you asked, eyes darting around the parking lot in case you needed help.

What he wouldn't give for the opportunity to reassure you. To explain that he wasn't here to hurt you. That he'd kill himself before even laying a hand on you. Yet the correct words were lost and all he seemed to get out was an incoherent babble that had him wanting to dig his own claws into his chest.

"You smell different."

You straightened your spine, eyes narrowed into a glare he felt burn across his skin. "Look, I don't know who you are. But fuck off."

Something akin to pride flared in his chest at your tone, your words. But he couldn't show it externally. How would he explain that your fight—your fire—is what drew him to you in the first place? How could he tell you about a version of yourself you'd never know? A person he thought would be with him until his last breath exhaled into the world.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He raised his hands in an attempt to prove his point, but like your variant counterpart you were willing to bite first and ask questions later.

"Yeah. Sure asshole." The shopping bag in your other hand was lifted up, until you had a tighter grip on it in case something happened. You didn't know him. You probably never would.

But Logan had to try. He owed it to you to give it all he had this time around.

Otherwise...what was the point of living?

"My name's–" He made the wrong move stepping forward and knew it the second his boot hit the gravel. With a wince, he watched you stumble back against your car, your arm coming up to protect yourself. "No. Look I'm not gonna do anything–"

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit.

He moved back as if approaching a wounded animal—his body finally on edge in a new way. The fact that you didn't know him wasn't what broke off another chunk of his heart. He could handle that. He'd been through that.

You were afraid of him.

That realization dug in too deep for his body to heal.

That...he couldn't live with.

"WOAH hey!" He'd never appreciated Wade's irritating ass more than in this moment. He jumped between the two of you, the cart of groceries forgotten as he blocked Logan from your sight. "Step away from the nice lady wolf boy." Wade regarded you with a smile. "Hi! Sorry. This is my uncle and well as you can probably tell he's lost eight of his lives. So we're going on little old nine. And well the mind just goes to shit first."

Seconds passed by like minutes and Logan watched you visibly deflate. "Wade," you greeted him, visibly calmer than before. Logan felt his stomach twist violently at the thought. "It's good to see you. How's the job?"

"Oh yup you know. Left that. But I'm really pushing through. I've got an Etsy store where I sell miniature paintings of Michael Angelo's David's penis. So there's that."

Your laughter sent a hole through his chest and Logan bit back the growl that rose up the back of his throat. What the fuck was Wade doing making friends with you? Why were you laughing at his humor?

He couldn't count how many days he'd spent longing to hear your laugh again, the shine in your eyes that always came around when joy flooded your bloodstream. He could smell the honey off your skin, the warmth of what no doubt lay beneath your thin dress. And he wanted to rip Wade to pieces knowing that he was the one making it happen. That you were comfortable with a man who's mouth ran at a mile a minute.

"Did your sister have the baby yet?"

You brightened and Logan felt his heart stutter. "She did! A boy."

"Named Wade I hope."

Another peal of laughter had Logan's claws itching to descend as you ignored he was there. "Theo actually. A cutie."

"Aww." Wade moved closer, head bent to see the small polaroid you pulled out of your wallet. "Wow, he looks like you'd find him in a Gerber's advertisement."

Your eyes drifted up, past Wade's shoulder, until you finally caught Logan's gaze. And he felt like he could breathe. Every ounce of fear was wiped from your face; interest now creeping in as you dragged your eyes down his form. Past the slight peek of chest hair and down to how his jeans hugged his hips. Logan stood taller for your benefit, as if he needed to make a good impression.

He wanted to linger in your mind for days. Until the curiosity ate you alive.

"We're gonna go," Wade announced, after grabbing your bag and placing it in your trunk for you. "Someone has to feed the blind woman in my apartment. She tends to root through everything looking for food." He gripped Logan's arm, shoving him back a good few feet. Even as your eyes still remained glued to his face. "Glad to see the Hyundai is still working. You know you could take the fattest fucking nap in the back of that puppy. Makes you feel like an Egyptian mummy."

"Bye," you said, a dazed look in your eyes as Logan smiled in your direction. At ease with the knowledge that even in a different universe, he could still fluster you with a look.

Dragging himself away from you was hell, but Wade's grip remained unbreakable as they clambered to the car. The groceries stacked in the small backseat.

He could glimpse you driving off and suddenly the nightmare from earlier was the last thing on his mind.

Wade's back hit the wall with a crack before the door could shut properly. The groceries in their hands toppled to the floor. He barely had time to duck before Logan's claws were aiming for his head—a snarl ripping from his throat.

"What the fuck?" Wade shouted, grabbing the paper bag and gently setting it on the table. "Next time just say you need to stay home and find some joy in an empty room and your hand."

"How do you know her?"

Wade smiled, assessing the furious state of chaos Logan was now left in. The tatters of his stability falling to the floor around him. For as much as he held himself together, it certainly remained easy enough to tear him a part.

"Got an eye on someone, do we honey badger?"

Logan grimaced, running a hand down his face. "Would you just fucking tell me?"

"Let me bask in this Logan. I'm about to watch a romcom come to life and need some popcorn." He rummaged through the bag, yanking out some chips. "Salty and sweet. That'll do."

"Wade," he bit out.

"Stick with us girls, we're about to get to the good stuff."

"WADE!"

He tossed the bag to the table, eyeing the way Logan never quite settled. "I'm gonna take a guess and say we know her more than just friendly hellos."

Logan couldn't answer because his grief did it for him. He did what he could to catch his breath, to stop seeing his version of you. The disappointment on your face, the pain in your voice. You'd been so angry with him. To watch the person he loved be reduced to a screaming crying mess wasn't something he wanted to relive, but Wade's question seemed to send an avalanche toppling to the ground.

"She's..." He sucked in a breath. "On my world. I...knew her."

"Knew her? Or knew her."

He reached for the bottle of whiskey Wade threw in with the rest of the groceries and popped it open before he spoke again. "It didn't end well between us. None of it did."

Wade fell silent and Logan found himself loathing the quiet more than the sound of his voice. If he was joking Logan could ignore it. He could pretend nothing happened. That you weren't here, you couldn't be hurt by him again.

You were safe from his destructive tendencies as long as you were in another universe.

"She lives across the street." Logan's head rose and whipped to see the window that faced the building across from them. "The old uncultured shit whistles that keep complaining about WHAM! the greatest thing to happen to music. They're her neighbors. Live right next door."

"Neighbors."

Wade nodded, offering him a chip. "She found their note and angel that she is, she very sweetly threatened to get them evicted. I offered to let her borrow my katanas but was rejected like younger me on prom night. You've really got yourself a catch there buddy."

Logan didn't need Wade to tell him how fucking lucky he was. He knew that the second you walked out of that store. You were everything good in his life at one point, everything he couldn't save. There wasn't much keeping him going on his old Earth, but having you made all the suffering he went through—all the pain he endured—worth it.

If you were waiting for him at the end, he'd do it all over again.

"So you want to take a dip in that honey huh? Taste that rainbow?"

His claws would have sunk into Wade's throat if a knock hadn't sounded at the door. With a huff, he stepped into the kitchen, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Whoever decided to give Wade some luck was of no concern to him.

Or so he believed.

"I didn't mean to accidentally take your groceries," you laughed, handing over a overpacked paper bag.

Stuffing the bottle under the sink, he met you halfway to the living room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you still in that dress. Still delicate enough for him to rip if he tugged it right. Heat curled along the base of his spine when your eyes met his, wide and glimmering with your laughter. He felt himself crumple at the sight of your lips parting, the surprise at his size still enough to make you speechless.

"Good to see you again," he greeted you, voice low and soft.

You didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, but something about the way his gaze devoured you within seconds left you breathless. The swooping sensation in your stomach became too much to handle. Desire and attraction weren't unknown concepts to you. But this felt like more. You could sense him right down to your bones and it scared the shit out of you.

"Oh right!" Wade scooched past you to swing an arm around Logan's shoulders. He did what he could to not stab him in the stomach. "This is Logan. My hunky new roommate."

Logan groaned. "Alright–"

"No, no it's good. You remember when I was declared basically the savior of the universe?"

Your face screwed up in confusion. Logan had never wanted to kiss someone more.

"Marvel...Jesus right?"

"I prefer MJ. Since I've got a Peter." Wade's head whipped to the side. "Suck it Tom Holland." His grip on Logan tightened. "This walking People's Sexiest Magazine helped. We're talking big claws, abs you just want to lick whipped cream off of–"

Logan's elbow slammed into Wade's stomach—crimson slowly tinting the tips of his ears. "That's enough."

"AND the Wolverine."

Surprised etched itself onto your face even further. Until you finally regarded Logan with a look he'd seen once before. Awe. When you first met one another in the halls of the mansion, you stared at him that exact way. As if you couldn't quite believe that iconic figure the X-Men made him out to be actually existed.

He couldn't tell if he liked it. Or if he'd rather you view him as a stranger.

"Logan," he said, offering his hand to you politely. Your skin remained as soft as he remembered.

Warmth bloomed in your body at the feeling of his calloused palm overwhelming yours, the scars across his knuckles old and ancient. Yet you found yourself wanting to trace them over and over, until the sight of them seared in your mind. You fought the urge to press your lips to them, etch your own mark into his skin. Something told you he wouldn’t mind.

Logan could see the intrigue on your face—the distracted gaze he wanted to keep in place. You were still curious. Still willing to learn about him. To pick him a part with soft words and even softer touches.

"Logan," you murmured under your breath, your eyes catching his. He felt his stomach leap at the sound of your voice whispering his name. Memories flooding his mind quicker than he expected. Of mornings spent in bed, your skin pressed against his. Of nights alone in his cabin—your stories lulling him to sleep.

Everything he willed himself to forget, yet could never truly let go of.

"I've got to head back." Disappointment filled your heart at the thought of not getting a chance to talk to him more. He had yet to let go of your hand and you found you liked his touch on your skin. "I'll see you soon Wade."

"Logan will be more than happy to walk you back," Wade replied, waving drastically behind your back. "Can't have you getting hurt now can we? Right peanut?"

You smiled. "I'm just across the street."

"I don't mind," Logan cut in, glaring at Wade to shut the fuck up.

"Okay," your voice was soft. Happy.

Logan would have done anything to keep it that way.

The walk back wasn't long enough for him to explain his actions from earlier, but you seemed to be just as smart as your variant self. Shutting the building's door, you turned to him—your dress fluttering in the breeze. Logan choked on his spit at the slight peek of your ass before you pushed the skirt back down around you.

"Did you know me?" You lead him to the corner, waiting for the traffic to die down. "On your Earth."

He paused, his eyebrows pulling together, and for a moment you wondered if you asked the wrong question. Wade told you bits and pieces of what happened since you last saw him, but Logan's background wasn't a discussion you tried to seek out. All you knew was that Wade acquired a new roommate. Not even a name.

Certainly not that he was Wolverine.

"Yes," Logan muttered, glancing at the change in lights.

You started to walk. "In what way?"

His hands curled into fists—echoes of his past rising to the surface. "We were...friends. You're a professor."

"A professor?" you exclaimed, a smile tugging on your lips. "Am I a mutant?"

He nodded. "You're able to bend time. Or control it." He snorted, following your lead towards your building. "I could never understand it. But Charles did."

The walk up to your apartment was silent, your thoughts filled with the new information he'd given you. And no matter how hard you tried to picture it, you couldn't see yourself as a mutant. A powerful being that held the ability to manipulate time who just so happened to be a professor. Somehow even thinking about it made you wonder why Logan was bothering to entertain this version of you. When the better one existed on his Earth.

"You said were."

Stopping at your door, he nearly knocked into you. "Hm?"

"Were friends. What happened?"

The answer he couldn't give you. The words he wouldn't even admit out loud to himself.

He felt his heart twist as if a knife slowly carved through his spleen. "We uh..." He coughed. "You..."

"I don't have to know." Grasping gently onto his arm, you offered a warm smile he felt down to his toes. A look he hadn't seen in quite some time. Logan could picture the last day you were happy in his head. Laughing with Charles in his office as you shared dinner, working on theories of your powers late into the night.

A week before they came.

"It's good to see you like this," he breathed, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek before stopping midair. "Happy."

Your eyebrows knit together. "I wasn't happy?"

"No." What he wouldn't give to take that information back, but it was out in the open, and as always—he remained too late.

"Why?" you asked, your hand sliding down to his much to his delight.

"I made you a promise." He sucked in a breath, his body begging him to start running. You'd be better off if you never knew. If you never remembered him in the first place. "I couldn't keep it."

I'll always keep you safe.

Words he refused to say again.

How could he promise this version of you that? How could he look you in the eyes and lie again? Breaking his Earth's you would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't fathom doing it all over. It would kill him.

Except you weren't the person in his mind. You weren't the mutant who hated him with every fiber of your being. You were you. A continuous surprise that left his heart stuttering in his chest each time you looked his way. An enigma he found himself wanting to unravel.

"Maybe this time around you can," you said softly, letting him go with a smile as you entered your apartment, effectively opening the wound in his heart so wide there was no saving him.

Although he now knew something he didn’t know before.

He didn’t want to be saved.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett x f!reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n #my writing

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j0eyj0rdis0n · 1 year ago

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KINKTOBER DAY 8

BREEDING

EYELESS JACK

Jack had been worried for the day you'd have to experience his rut. He'd gone through it before while he was dating you, but he made the proxies take you far away. Your smell would drive him absolutely crazy. He'd told you it was for the best, but heavens forbid you believed him.

When the week was over, he let you come back home. He needed you to take care of him after such a tiring experience. You pretty much babied him the whole next week and he was so thankful. Of course you were filled to the brim with questions which he groggily answered. But the one that stuck the most was one he wasn't expecting.

"You'll let me help you next time right...?"

He was surprised. You'd want to help him, a demon, through his rut? What were you? Crazy?

It took up until the week before his next rut of you convincing him for him to finally say yes. He'd try his best to be nice, but he made you quite aware that his self control is very minimal during that week.

The week was finally upon you. Jack had locked himself in his room, only letting you in on the third day. The first and second day was usually the worst, so he wanted to save you from that, especially for the first time you'd experience his rut. Maybe next time around he'd let you have the full week together.

He was curled up in his bed, desperately humping his pillow that had your shirt on it. He was hot and sweaty, completely naked trying to get any sort of relief, any sort of chill on top of that.

You didn't know what you expected but it certainly wasn't your demon boyfriend all curled up and small. As soon as he heard the door close his eyes were focused on your form, your sent was overwhelming and his control was already beginning to dwindle.

He held out a clawed hand for you, pulling you to him when you placed your small hand in his. He let out a deep growl as he inhaled your sweet scent.

"Please help me..." He whispered, pressing his head into the pillow as his hips continued to grind.

All you could do was stand in shock, you'd never seen him like this...

"Y/N... Please..." His whispers turned into whines the longer you refused to touch him.

Finally when you began stroking his cock was when he let his head come out from the pillow. His mouth hung open as you worked his massive cock over in your tiny hands. Incoherent whines and groans fell from his lips as you continued. Eventually when you added your mouth to the equation he felt something inside of him snap. A guttural growl was all you heard as he pushed your head down on his hard cock.

It took all the self control he had to not choke you to death on his dick. Pulling you up harshly by your hair he moved you on top of him, slamming you down on him, not giving you any prep at all. You felt as if your demon was splitting you in half. You'd felt pain before but nothing quite of this magnitude.

His massive hands gripped your waist as he continued to slam you down over and over and over again.

All he could do was mumble through the unexplainable pleasure you were giving him without even trying.

"Mine... Mine... All mine... I'm gonna fill you up... All full of my babies... You're gonna make such a good mother... Fuuuuck..."

He was so close... So damn close... He fucked up into you, meeting your hips as he chased after his raging orgasm.

"Oh fuck- Fuck please- I need this so bad-" He moaned out, practically begging himself to cum.

It was only seconds later that he did, letting his seed fill you right up to the brim. Of course that didn't stop him. He wouldn't stop until you were cock drunk, used and abused, and he finally got the relief he needed.

#eyeless jack creepypasta #creepypasta smut #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack smut #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #jack nyras #asks open #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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bleach-your-panties · 11 months ago

Text

sexy prompts for inumaki! all characters aged 18+

"T-Toge...we shouldn't do this here...they could easily see us, even from down there!"

The white-haired male only breathed a warm sigh into the crook of your neck as he helped you balance your leg up on the windowsill.

While Maki, Yuta, and Panda trained in the courtyard down below, Toge was sliding his long cock between your creamy, wet folds.

Your left hand haphazardly gripped onto the material of his pants while your right arm laid wrapped around his neck.

His nose bumped against your cheek, his silent way of asking you if you wanted him to continue.

"Yes, but, please Toge, we need to be careful. Okay?"

Those last words were lost on his ears as he shifted and gripped you underneath your armpits.

He expertly aimed his cock up at your hole and allowed you to sink yourself onto it just as you'd done so many times before.

Your face swarmed with heat as Toge bounced you on him hurriedly - there was no telling who might come around the corner or down the hallway and see the two of you in this position, but that was the entire thrill of public sex, wasn't it?

Not to mention your friends who might idly decide to glance upwards and get an eyeful of Toge pounding you in front of the open window.

But Toge, the ever-observant boyfriend noticed your apprehension about being caught, so what did he do?

He folded you at the waist, never slipping out of you as he continued his relentless thrusts.

"T-Toge! Slow down!" Your hands gripped his legs now while your head hung upside down, giving you a perfect view of his balls slamming against your ass.

"Huh, did you guys hear something? It sounded like it came from the second floor." Panda pointed a clawed finger up towards the window, where Inumaki gave him a close-eyed smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh, never mind, it's just Inumaki."

Maki pushed the furry away and adjusted her glasses to gaze up at the window as well.

"Inumaki?! What are you doing up there? Your ass should be down here training with the rest of us! And where's Y/N?!"

She impatiently stalked off with her staff thrown over her shoulder, mumbling something about slackers. Yuta brushed a hand through his dark hair sighed, and followed after the green-haired woman with Panda in tow.

"I'm gonna cum, Toge..I...my head...getting dizzy..."

Next, you were pulled up and your back slammed up against the wall beside the window. Your shaky legs came up to wrap around your boyfriend's waist.

Toge continued to bounce you on him in this new position, relishing in the sound of your moans and the way your chest bounced in rhythm with his thrusts.

Your nails dug into his shoulders while your head lolled to one side. He wanted to laugh at you, but instead let out a loud grunt. His hips stuttered and he carefully lowered both of your bodies to the floor, dick pulsing and shooting his cum up against your walls that gripped him for dear life.

"Toge...you're a monster..." You huffed at him once you came down from your orgasm and he did laugh this time while holding up the "I love you" hand signal.

"I love you, too, you bitch."

----

sexy prompt list:

#21 - Fucking with the window wide open

💗💗🍡°tagging: @darkstarlight82 @eternalalmondd

#toge inumaki smut #toge inumaki x reader #toge inumaki #inumaki smut #toge smut #inumaki x reader #jjk toge x reader #inumaki x you #jjk x reader #i have a shit ton of assignments coming up so the fic is going to take some time #i still wanted to post something for him though #getting into his character a bit #💗💗🍡°jjk masterlist #💗💗🍡°jjk drabbles #sexy prompts #byp🌹

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cheriebrat · 1 month ago

Note

Bucky gently wiping his girl’s never ending tears as she tries to apologize for trying to escape a third time, promising him she’ll never do it again only for him to chain her back up for the rest of the night but he knows that she’ll be his perfect little Stockholm princess in no time, especially when the winter soldier is there to help sort her out💞

fuckkkkkk.

warnings; fem!reader, kidnapping, early stages of stockholm syndrome, soft but manipulative bucky, mentions of the winter soldier coming out to play (😏), (perhaps opportunity for an au here!!!)

Your cheeks are glossy with the seemingly never ending wave of tears that portend their descent over your flushed cheeks. Your pulse thrums against your neck, skittering like a nervous doe when Bucky's thumb slides over the tender spot beneath your jaw. His amorous touch only serves to have you sobbing harder, tearing at the loose fitting tee that hangs around your neck as though the fabric is suffocating you.

"Shh, shh," Bucky coos, a thumb coasting the length of your waterline – a futile attempt to plug your tear ducts and slow the second onslaught of frantic tears. "Take it easy."

"I'm sorry," you wail. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have done it."

Your breath comes in wheezing pants, voice petering out into a whisper as terror's icy grip clamps around your throat and you start to sob in earnest. Bucky sighs, scooping you up tight against his chest and pressing a chaste peck to your sweat-slick temple.

You thrash and cant away from the touch, your body poised tightly and waiting for the punishing blow that is no doubt on its way. His arms tighten over your frame, biceps bulging with the effort it's taking to keep you from squirming out of his grip.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, baby. Stop," he growls, his voice a harsh, grating bite against your fragile ears. Bucky's cadence had come out crueller than he would have liked, and he pets your hair in an effort to dissuade you from panicking beneath his firm grasp.

"Please, I won't do it again. You have to believe me, I'll never do it again," you snivel, bowing your head low until your features are obscured.

"You said that last time, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You can't keep doin' this. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Bile crawls up your throat, hot and fast. Your chest burns.

"I feel sick."

"I know." He pulls the hair back from your balmy cheeks as you start to retch and heave, sobs still clawing from your chest all the while. You know what comes next, as does he.

"Please don't- don't put me down there. Please, I'm sorry."

"Do you need me to let Winter out, hm? You want him to take you down there, or me?"

You go stock still. Everything slows, Bucky's voice sticking to your ears like syrup. "No, no. I'll be good, I'm sorry," you croak, lips filling with air as you suppress another retch.

The mere mention of the soldier is enough to halt every ounce of defiance in your body. Winter is far less forgiving than Bucky, and you're not willing to take your chances.

Not tonight.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, smearing a sticky kiss along your cheekbone. "You stay down there tonight and be good for me, and we'll do something nice tomorrow, how about that?" he bargains. "I'll let you pick a movie to watch, and you can sleep in bed with me for as long as you want, yeah?"

You sag like dead weight against Bucky's chest, seeping up the warmth of the skin-on-skin contact while you still have the chance. You're in for a very long - very cold - night.

"Please don't do this to me," you whisper. Desperation clings to your every syllable, weighs down every word you speak until your voice is thick with tears.

"You know I have to, sweetheart."

His kindness makes it worse, you think. If he was cruel, if he didn't show you this... softness, maybe you could find it in yourself to hate him.

But the way he lets you cling to him, kisses the top of your head as he delivers your punishment, murmuring soft, adoring affirmations all the while... You just can't.

And you know when he lets you out in the morning, you'll be good for him. You'll accept him, in his entirety. You'll let him kiss you and tuck you into his side like you've always been there. You'll let him love you.

Maybe you can learn to love him, too.

Bucky knows you can. He just has to give it time.

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mattyriddlesbitch · 8 months ago

Note

Enzo's dark side comes when he gets to fuck you infront of a mirror and literally force you to look at yourself getting fucked by his huge dick

I gotchu!

Gotta Watch

Lorenzo Berkshire x F!Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex, cream pie, cussing, mirror sex, use of the word 'slut'

18+ Minors DNI!

“You gotta watch, love.” Enzo said from behind you.

You both were naked in front of his floor length mirror, both kneeling on the floor as he was rubbing his cock against your pussy, teasing your hole and clit. He had a hand grabbing your jaw, forcing you to watch in the mirror as the tip of his cock poked out from between your thighs and disappeared between them again as he pulled back.

“You feel that, darling? You feel my dick? Gonna fill you with it. Gonna feel it right here.” He said, placing a hand on your lower stomach.

He started pushing into you, moaning right into your ear as he watched your face in the mirror. You moaned along with him, hands gripping his arm holding onto your stomach, closing your eyes from the pleasure of him stretching you out.

“Open your eyes, sunshine. You're gonna watch me fuck you.” He said, gripping your jaw slightly tighter.

“It's so deep.” You muttered before opening your eyes.

“Good girl.” He whispered in your ear and started thrusting, pulling almost all the way out so you could see his dick in the mirror as it went in and out of you. “Look how well you take me.”

“Fuck.” You breathed out between moans.

“I know. Makes you feel so good, huh?” He teased and when you looked back at his face in the mirror, he was smirking. “Give me a little show. Play with your nipples.” He let go of your jaw to grab your hip, guiding your hips to meet his thrusts.

You let go of his arm and groped your breasts before playing with your nipples, rubbing and pulling them. “Fuck, Enzo. That feels so good.”

“You're fucking perfect, angel.” He said, pressing his lips to your neck, eyes locked on your breasts in the mirror. “My good little slut. You like me telling you what to do, hm?”

You nodded, biting at your lip as you watched his cock fucking in and out of you.

“Do I have to teach you to use your words again? Seems you forgot.” He teased, moving his eyes to your face in the mirror.

“No! I can use my words!” You shook your head, remembering the sessions of overstimulation and orgasm denial.

“Just being quiet on purpose then? Maybe I'm not fucking you hard enough.” He mused.

Before you could reply, he pushed your top half down, pushing you into an arch, moving his arm on your stomach to grab your hair to make you look in the mirror still. The new angle had you crying out as he hit deeper.

“That's it. That's what I wanna hear.” He said, looking down from the mirror to watch his cock pushing in and out of you. “You fucking love this, huh? Love watching me fuck you?” He turned his eyes back to yours in the mirror.

“Yes! I love it! So fucking good!” You cried out, fingers digging into the rug beneath you.

“Yeah? Such a fucking slut. You'd do anything I asked if it meant getting fucked like this, huh?” He was thrusting into you faster.

“Yes! I'd do anything for you, Enzo! You make me feel so good!” You answered, feeling your orgasm starting to build.

“So obedient for me. Bet you'd ride my cock in front of the whole school if I asked and you'd love it.”

“Enzo, please, I'm gonna cum!” You warned, legs starting to feel shaky.

“I know, angel. Can feel you squeezing me.” He smiled at you in the mirror. “Make a mess of my cock, love. Wanna see you cum.” He said, using his hand on your hip to spank you before rubbing the area.

You started trembling, crying out his name as you clawed at the rug.

“Good girl. That's my good girl.” He moaned as he helped ride out your orgasm before his own hit him, hips stilling as he came in your sweet pussy.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@ireallyneed-somesleep @soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @motherfing-stargirl

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddlesbitch

Let me know if you wanna be added!

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys smut #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader smut #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire

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sappho-of-suburbia · 8 months ago

Text

Why don't you take a seat, love?

I can see you're packing, your bulge has been straining at the fly of your jeans all night. Just sit back and let me make you feel good.

Grab that dining chair, the good strong one with the firm back. Let me slip those jeans down for you while you sit down.

Fuck, I don't know where to look. Your thighs. Your cock. Your eyes. You're perfect.

Before I know what I'm doing I'm on my knees, shamelessly desperate to take your cock in my mouth. Fuck. Your fingers grasping at my hair with one hand, clawing at my shoulder with the other. I'm obsessed.

You're issuing firm but gentle instructions, "You can take more than that", "Slow down, give me those pretty little moans", "My good girl, you know this is what you're for" - getting you worked up, feeling the more assertive side of you step forward.

Knowing how hard you are for me, feeling how wet I am for you, we both need more.

I pull myself up, unbuttoning your shirt as I do, planting a line of kisses behind each button, up the gentle softness of your stomach, those genuinely jaw-dropping tits, finally finding your lips, until I'm standing over you, legs either side of your thighs.

I let you untie the neckline of my pretty cotton dress, right at your eyeline, freeing my chest as the ribbons drop to the floor. When your mouth finds my nipples, already firm and sensitive, I can't help but whimper.

"Fuck. That feels so good. Your tongue feels so good."

Your hands slip up under my dress, to my hips, expecting to find underwear to rip off. I'm way ahead of you. I feel you shiver and tense at the realisation that there's nothing between the head of your cock and my dripping wet cunt. Your fingers dig into my hips and I hope you're gonna leave bruises.

You pull me down onto your cock and fuck, you fill me up so well. This is Everything. You're setting the pace as I roll my hips, making sure the base of your cock hits your clit with every thrust.

You know it doesn't take a lot for me to come like this. You want it, don't you? You want to feel me come undone for you, flood your lap, scream your name. But I can hold out. Hold out until you're close too, your chest flushed, your lips barely able to return my kisses.

Then, looking into your eyes - those eyes that pierce my soul, make me feel by turns safe and secure, and desperately desired - I start to beg.

"Please...please baby, let me come. I'm so close. Please. I'll be so good for you. I'll do anything. Please. I need you. Please."

In response and without warning, you sink your teeth into my shoulder - the sudden shock of pain tipping me over the edge, I couldn't hold back now if I tried.

As the pleasure rips through my body, I realise it's hit you too. The way you tremble and buck wildly into me knocks me straight into a second and I'm screaming your name again and again.

Feeling you come inside me is completely exquisitely perfect. You feel incredible and I can ride it out as long as you can. Do you want more?

#dykeposting #sapphic #lesbian nsft #wlw nsft #sapphic nsft #wlw yearning #my posts #butch bait #femme4butch

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hypnagogics · 8 months ago

Text

currently thinking about edging sub!ellie...so...whoops

"hnnn- fuckfuckfuck baby, please." she'd whine into your ear, clawing wherever she could reach on you, scratching up your shoulder blades, digging into your waist. as soon as you feel the familiar flutters of her pussy around your skillful fingers, you'd pull away with a smirk, watching her gleefully.

you slow your movements until there's only a stationary pad of your finger resting on her pulsing clit. you stare down at her as she's gasping and bordering on tearing up, face all red and hair disheveled. auburn strands a stark contrast from the white pillow she's laid upon.

she'd try to squirm around to make you continue touching her, but you don't comply. frustrated huffs and grunts fall from her lips as her bare chest heaves up and down with desperation.

"hmmm?" you'd coo at her, voice sweet on the surface, but laced with a patronizing taunt.

she'd sigh, muster up her remaining energy and throw a deathly glare at you, sharp enough to kill a man painlessly. unfortunately for her it only amuses you further, and you bite back a sneer.

eyebrows scrunched together with her gaze not leaving yours, she sputters through a clenched jaw, "i'm gonna kill you." you can't help but chuckle at the threat. you know she doesn't mean it, it was always funny when she got feisty.

"oh you don't wanna do that, no one fucks you as good as i do, baby." you finish your rebuttal by re-inserting two fingers into her weeping pussy once more, curling skyward until you hit the spot that breaks her.

within moments her back is arching into you and eyes squeezing shut, a symphony of melodic moans and whimpers flooding the room.

"yeah, that's what you wanted?" you tease, but it's ignored. you'll allow it this time. pumping in and out of her, you can tell she's getting close again, and the thought to rip it away from her yet again crosses your mind, but you've lost count at this point.

she's gripping onto your other arm as if her life depended on it, holding on so hard you swear you'll lose feeling in it.

never letting up your pace her whines increase in volume and frequency, her pussy swallowing up your digits with ease.

you're entranced by her, she's done so well you'll let her cum, finally. she's earned it.

"pleaseplease, yes, ah-" incoherent strings of pleas and delicious begs escape her, you watch as her toned abs flex and cave in as the feeling begins to build for her.

"that's it, c'mon." you mumble a praise, which acts as the gateway for her to let go and succumb to the release enveloping her.

steadily working her through it, thumb rolling over her clit and fingers milking the orgasm out of her until it becomes too much.

she's breathing deeply once it's passed and seems finally at peace after so long, so much denial. you lay on top of her, peppering open-mouthed kisses against the side of her neck, running your hands over her waist.

"you're so mean." she mumbles, her voice taken on a drowsy aura from the exertion.

"i know. but you love it."

"i do."

um HELLO the fuck idk what came over me needed to get this outta my system ig LMAO literally typed this in like 10 minutes in the app bye

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banj0possum · 1 year ago

Note

Please more poly vampires please😭🙏! I can hardly ever find x male/masc reader stuff especially about monsters😭. What happens when they take us back to their home. What's gonna happen to us? What will the townsfolk react?

Poly!Vampires x Reader Pt. 2

CW: kidnapping, silas is a freak for a brief moment

waaaaa !! so sorry this took so long !! thank you all for being so patient with me ! >w< <3

update: i mixed up garrick and silas' names im sorry im sorry its fixed now guys im so-

🌙 Its been a week since the townspeople found your house empty, your bedroom looking like something out of a mystery novel.

🌙 The bed was stained with blood and claw marks were dug deep into your bedframe with the moonlight illuminating your room through your broken window.

🌙 It looked as if you've been taken by a creature of the night, but weirdly enough, your luggage was nowhere to be found. Your closet and drawers had clothes missing and the painting you had just finished was gone.

🌙 Who could have done this?

🌙 "Garrick, it's your turn to drive!"

🌙 "Already?! Just one more minute Viktor~?"

🌙 You're being held hostage, no, hostage wasn't the right word..kidnapped? Enslaved maybe? who knows..All you know was that these..creatures..will never let you out of their sight.

🌙 You remember that night when you bore witness to their inhuman ways, they were at the foot of your bed when you took out the crucifix under your pillow and held it to Viktor, his eyes turning all red and he hissed at the holy figure.

🌙 "Ohoho! Our little mortal's smart!" Garrick grins, showing off his sharp fangs.

🌙 Silas tries to grab you but you dodge, but his long claws managed to cut your cheek, you couldn't say the same for your bedframe..

🌙 Viktor gets a hold of you and chuckles darkly at your cut, the red liquid bleeding out of it made his mouth water.

🌙 "My my~ What a fierce little minx you are my darling~" he coos with a raspy cold breath as he licks your wound. The feeling made your stomach churn and your spine shiver.

🌙 Garrick was busy making a mess of your room and stuffing your clothes in bags. Also stuffing a pair of your underwear in his shirt for himself.. "Come on you idiots! It's almost dawn!" He whisper-yells as he fiddles with the window's lock.

🌙 Silas rolls his eyes and kicks the window, breaking it and jumping through, with Garrick holding his hand.

🌙 You were confused beyond compare. Were they really gonna kidnap you?! What's gonna happen to you?! Should you scream for help?!

🌙 "I'm sorry for this Darling.." Viktor says softly before knocking you out.

🌙 Now back to the present, the 3 rode around in a caravan, a charming little wagon that doubled as a moving home of sorts. One went in front and drove while the other two looked after you or did other things.

🌙 Every escape attempt you had would end up in failure, their superhuman senses were no match for you.

🌙 "Garrick you said that 10 minutes ago!" Viktor growls at the younger vampire.

🌙 Garrick groans "Fiiiiiine!" He says before giving you one last hug and kiss and going out with a coat to shield him from the sun.

🌙 You had about 10 seconds to yourself before Viktor sits down next to you and pulls you onto his lap.

🌙 "Oh how I missed your warmth little mortal~" He purrs, kissing your neck which made you tense up in fear of his fangs. He feels your heart beat faster and smirks. "Am I making you nervous~?" He teases.

🌙 Silas comes over and smacks the dark-haired man on the head "Enough Viktor! Don't you think our precious little darling is frightened already?" he scolds before smiling down at you warmly. Viktor just rolls his eyes and buries his face into your neck.

🌙 He hands you a cup of tea and sits down across from you and Viktor "Drink up dear, mortals like you need to stay warm in the winter~"

🌙 Silas was the most respectful one out of the 3, he was always taking care of you and making sure the others didn't make you feel uncomfortable, but of course he was just as obsessive of you as they were.

🌙 Viktor is such a cuddle bug, always hugging you close every chance he gets. He'd even have the luxury to sleep with you, an activity he hasn't done in a while. He might not need to sleep, but just lying in bed with your adorable sleeping form was like being in heaven for him.

🌙 Garrick love love loves chatting with you. Rambling to you about people he's killed or jewelry he's looted off of his food weren't the best topics to talk about, but he's got no one else to talk to! And you are his darling after all!

🌙 And you could do nothing about any of it. You were treated like a glorified pet and there was no way to leave or escape of have any time for yourself..

🌙 It continued on like this until the caravan came to a stop by a small town. The weather was much colder now than it was in your hometown with rain softly pouring down from the sky.

🌙 Your heart drops, knowing what they're going to do here.

🌙 They all come off the caravan, Silas going to give the horses some food. You refused to leave the caravan in your anxiety-stricken state.

🌙 Garrick notices your nervousness and smiles, sitting next to you and putting his forehead to yours "Darling, you miss home don't you~?" he coos softly.

🌙 You nod slightly as you refuse to look at him or even move.

🌙 The vampire sighs and rests his head on your shoulder and holds your hand. "I know honey...but we won't hurt you! And besides, you don't know these people anyway! You scared we'll kill them and stuff? It's fine! We do it all the time!" He laughs. He wasn't making anything better..

🌙 "You're shit at comforting people Silas." Viktor looks at the red head with a deadpanned expression. "Oh up yours Vik!" Garrick rolls his eyes at him.

🌙 At least that made you lighten up a bit..

🌙 Garrick pulls you up from your seat and you get out of the caravan, rain hitting your face before the vampire opens up an umbrella and holds you close to him so you don't get wet.

🌙 "Its fine dear, this is the last stop before we head back to our new home~" Silas walks over and places a kiss on your cheek.

🌙 Wait..home?..

🌙 "Now gentleman! Who's hungry~?"

sorry this is a bit short ! but feel free to request or ask anything about these blorbos! i love em a lot !

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cosmicstarlatte · 1 year ago

Note

bruh your blog is like my favorite blog now ❤︎ will forever be sliding into your asks alskskdhd

so i was thinking … about pervert monster diavolo …

i saw a post about a pervert!lucifer headcanon and an mc who got stuck in a wall and …

now my brain is rotting with the idea of monster diavolo finding mc stuck somehow and just going to town

i promise i’m so normal

Moody forgive me I didn't realize this was sitting in drafts nearly finished the whole time *ripping my hair out*

nsfw 18+ minors do not interact // ⚠️dubcon, diavolo x f!reader, called little terror & pumpkin, creampie, not really proofread tbh *runs away*

diavolo hummed from above while you wiggled around under his bed, ass sticking out & looking delectable.

"what do we have here? my little terror appears to be stuck... were you trying to scare me perhaps?" he murmured, patting your bottom while you continued to wiggle your hips around helplessly.

"yeah i'm stuck can you get me out!?" you cried out from under.

diavolo just chuckled as he continued to pat & rub your bottom before kneeling down behind you, shifting into his demon form. can you blame him? he wants nothing more but to mount you with the way you are right now.

"ah? is that so?" perfectly manicured black claws swiftly pulled down your pants, underwear along with it. he dug his claws into the fat of your ass & admired the puffy mound between your legs. "i'll get you out in a little bit pumpkin. you know i can't resist that pretty little cunt."

"dia!" you moaned as you felt his slick long tongue make quick work, lapping at your folds, the tip of his tongue flicking against your clit. "dia, please-"

you whined & couldn't help but rub your cunt against his tongue, almost forgetting where you were.

you heard the soft ruffling of cloth & clinking jewelry, gasping when you felt the fat tip of his demon cock gently prod between your slick folds.

"I'll get you out of there right after this,"He gripped your hips and buried his cock into your warm cunt. Each ridge and bump of his cock rubbing into you.

"Fuck." He gritted his teeth & pulled his hips back before slamming back into you. "Hah, this human cunt was made just for me wasn't it?"

He thrusted harder into you, "taking my demon cock so well-"

You whined as he bullied his fat cock into you, stretching you out. You cried out as his tapered tip started hitting that heavenly spot.

"dia! gonna c-cum- "

With a swift movement he lifted the bed enough with one arm and pulled you out with the other while remaining on his cock. He lifted you up with ease, continuining to fuck mercilessly into you, your back pressed against his chest.

With just a few more thrusts you finally came, the two of you moaned as your cunt clenched around him and milked his cock of every precious drop he had.

diavolo let out a happy sigh as he plopped the two of you onto his bed, laying you on top of his chest and wrapping an arm and his black gold accented wings around you.

With a free hand he wiped the sweat from your forehead and grinned.

"You know you didn't have to lie about being stuck." ◇

#obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me smut #obey me headcanons #obey me diavolo smut #obey me diavolo headcanons #obey me smut headcanons #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo x you #obey me diavolo x mc #obey me x reader #✩ — the star: moody!#◇˖・ﾟ— › cosmic obey me . ⊹

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importantstudentbusinessspy-blog · 3 months ago

Text

Academia - The Gala

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: NSFW, academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, smut, blowjobs, possessiveness, jealousy, oral, p in v, semi-pibloc sex,

Side note: can y'all tell I've never been to a Gala before? I don't know how they donate in those things. Please bare with me.

The perp screamed as Damian flipped him onto the ground, making sure the way he landed would be impactful enough to knock him out for at least a minute.

"Fuck! You fucking brat!" The perp chocked out.

Squatting next to him, Damian flipped his staff to rest it against his shoulder blades, hanging both his arms on it. "You see the rest of your crew over there?" He nodded in the direction of four bodies lying down on the floor of the warehouse, then looked back at the perp currently struggling to take a breath. "Not big talkers, apparently. But you -" he grabbed the man by his collar and dragged him towards himself, the perp yelped, blood dripping from his nose as he struggled against Damian's unyielding grip. "You might still make it out of here alive." He finished.

The perp eyed his men nervously, stammering. "D-did you kill them?"

Damian ignored the question. "I'm gonna ask you one last time, Markus. Where is Roman's shipment arriving to?"

The man's eyes widened at the correct use of his name, and he began to shake.

Damian registered a new stench, his upper lip lifted in digust as he stared down a Marcus. "You better not have fucking pissed yourself. That's disgusting."

Marcus looked like he was about to cry. Damian would bet they were tears of shame rather than pain. He grasped the collar tighter, sneering. "Where did the shipment leave to, Marc? While I'm still in a good mood."

"Y-you fucking psycho!" Marcus was crying now. "Do you have any idea what he'll do to me if I tell you?"

"It can't be worse than what I'll do to you if you don't." Damian said before punching the crying man in the nose, making sure to crack something. Marcus cried out in pain.

"Talk." Damian prompted.

Bloody lips trembling, Marcus confessed the address.

Damian nodded, sure to memorize the location. "What time is it coming in?" He asked.

Marcus's features twisted pathetically as he slurred, "Come on, man. I already told you-"

"What time is it coming in?" Damian sneered. Hating to have to repeat himself.

"E-eleven-Thirty!" The criminam cried. "Pick up's at midnight."

Damian stood up then, kicking Marcus right in the nose, making sure to knock him out this time.

"Jesus christ, kid." Jason spoke in his ear. "Remind me to play bats this footage if ever gives me shit about how I do interrogations."

"That won't stop me from giving you shit." Batman's voice came on the line.

Withholding a retort about Jason calling him "kid." All Damian said was, "it's not like I killed him."

"Right, no, of course." The red hood laughed in his comm. "You just re-organized the order his face, much more merciful."

"Ugh, been on the receiving end of that." Dick's voice joined the line. "Now look at oir baby boy, all grown up and graduated from scratching to dislocation."

"Aww." Barbara's voice supplied helpfully.

Damian rolled his eyes. "I was dislocating men twice my size back when you were still running around in a leotard."

He was so grateful he got to work on his own suit, with a fabric that wasn't skin fucking tight had at fully covered him in bulletproof Kevlar yet still allowed for a full range of motion. If he were forced to wear the same suit as his eldest brother, Batman would have been his first victim.

"Oooh there are those claws!" Tim now joined the line, along with Stephanie, who supplied the helpful words: "scratchy scratchy" in the background.

Clearly, his family was having a much less fun night that he and were desperate for some entertainment. Ignoring them, Damian climbed up from the warehouse and onto the roof of a neighboring, taller building to get a better vantage point. The wind ruffled his hair as the sounds of gotham: sirens, choppers, and car horns, as well as the waves from the nearby river filled his ears. Inhaling the cool air and exhaling, the fog from his mouth traveling with the wind. He switched onto a different line. "Oracle, I need coordinates to the Conrad docks port hanger number 9."

"Roger that, Robin. Shall I send for back up?"

"No need." He said. "I can't handle this myself."

And he did. Carrying out a perfect stealth mission and stealing a crate of the new drug that Black Mask was trying to push on the city, along with the files that exposed every crooken cop currently on his payroll. The files found their way to commissioner Gordon's coffee table that night. The corrupt cops were behind bars by morning.

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Damian didn't know how to explain, but he was having a particularly good day. That is, until he heard your name being said by one of the guys from your program.

"There she is. What was her name again?"

"Y/n, I think?" The boy, a skinny eng student from your physics class, was talking to his friend.

Damian followed his gaze to you, sitting by yourself in a yellow checkered blazer and skinny jeans, with a neat ponytail tide by a yellow ribbon. You were sitting on one of the benches at the campus atrium, chewing on a cut-up apple as you read something on your computer, the screen illuminating your face.

"I got two tickets for the howling mystery this Thursday. I'm gonna ask her to go with me."

Like hell. Damian's nostrils flared, and he turned to walk in their direction.

Just as his friend replied sardonically. "She doesn't hit me as the type that listens to hard metal -"

"Hey," they both turned at the sound of Damian's voice. The boy who talked about asking you out straightening up. Unimpressed, Damian trampled him in size. "How are you guys doing?" He asked casually.

"Fine, thanks." The friend replied, looking at Damian in disbelief that he was used to by now. "You?"

"Listen, were you guys just in Atkinson's lecture?" He pointed his thumb in the direction of the room behind himself.

The two guys nodded.

"He's in there right now explaining the Pokhozhaev identity problem that was on the midterm." Damian lied.

Their eyes widened. And one of them asked. "Fuck really?"

Damian nodded. "Yeah. If you hurry, maybe you could still catch him."

"Dude, thanks!" One of them clapped him on the back, and Damian offered them one his signature easygoing smiles as they went down the hall and back into the lecture, none the wiser.

He himself made his way to sit beside you, leaning back on the bench. "Hey,"

You looked up at him, eyes widening when you realized it's him. You quickly collected yourself, offering a poline smile. "Damian, hi."

"What are you doing this Thursday?" He asked.

You thought about it for a moment, checked your calendar to see that your midterms were done by Wednesday. "Nothing, why?"

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You looked at yourself in the mirror, assessing the outfit. The dress you wore was a velvet, red form-fitting one that accentuated your silhouette, it reach the top of your knees with an asymmetrical hem that added an edgy touch, showcasing the velvet knee high black boots under it. A deep neckline showed the gold necklace that you never took off, with its matching earrings - gifts from your parents. You let your hair down, framing your face in subtle curls and draping over your shoukders. Your makeup was subtle with a focus on your eyes and red lipstick. The look you were going for was a combination of chic and classy.

A knock on your door caused you to open it, mouth dropping slightly when you did.

Damian Wayne stood at your doorstep wearing a suit. Confident posture and athletic physique. His tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders and a trim waist. Sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and those green eyes of his sparkled over you with appreciation. You realized why he'd told you to wear red, a well-chosen tie hung from his neck, matching your dress in color.

"Hey, perfect girl," he gave you an appreciative look.

"Oh wow," you let the words out without thinking. Clearing your throat, you offered a shy smile. "You look really nice."

"Thanks," he put his hand in his pocket, eyes roaming your body, and he shook his head. "So do you. Very nice."

He offered you his hand, and you took it, letting him lead you to his Camaro.

"Will you not be drinking?" You asked, seated at the passenger seat.

"I dont drink." He said.

You nodded, thinking that if he wanted to elaborate, he would have. "I read up about that Gala. It's a charity event to raise money for the new wing in the children's hospital, right?"

"Right."

"I'd like to contribute, if that's still allowed." You said.

Damian smirked to himself, a dimple appearing as his perfect teeth came into view. "Do you know how much Wayne Ent. donated, y/n?"

"No," you confessed.

"You're welcome to contribute, but trust me, they're set for at least the next four years. And that's including construction."

"Wow," you couldn't bring yourself to even inagine the amount that entailed. Suddenly, your donation felt like barely anything. Your shoulders slumped slightly, and then you shook it off. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'd still like to."

He turned to give you a look, the meaning of which you couldn't decipher. "Have you ever donated at a gala before?"

You shookyour head.

He offered you his hand, and you took it.

At last, he spoke. "I'll show you how."

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The way he commanded attention in any room with mere silence should be studied, you thought.

His hand brushed your hip, leading you inside the massive banquet hall. You looked around, and massive chandeliers hung from the intricately painted fresco on the ceiling as the velvet carpet was rolled out under expensive shoes. The sound of chatter and clinging glasses was accompanied by classical music. This was an entirely different world than the one you were used to. Still, you looked around in fascination.

"Is that real Chanel?" Damian's question drew you from your thoughts. You turned to see him eyeing your dress.

You tensed. "... no." You looked down, blushing as you were painfully reminded that someone of his stature could tell the difference. Slightly embarrassed, you quietly confessed, "Mainstream brands can make good knock offs when they want to."

He nodded, gaze drifting back over the crowd. As did you, the sea of people in front of you was clad in high brand designer gowns, suits, and perfumes. Granted, your outfit was by no means cheap, and in fact, it took you a day of work to make up for it. But if he could see that your clothes were a high fashion copy, so could everyone here. In your clothes you felt like you didn't belong. For the first time in your life, you felt... cheap.

You just hoped his lack of a reaction meant a lack of judgment. Damian came both from old money and from new money, as the heir to the top weapons mogul in the world, he was used to a certain standard.

Either way, you may not have been rich but you weren't struggling. Per se.

You glanced at him, about to wonder if he felt embarrassed to be seen with you. But after thinking of it for too long, you realized... you don't care.

Very grateful to both of your parents who worked blue-collar jobs to raise you and your siblings, you learned the value of appearance from a young age. You didn't come from the best neighborhood, but you couldn't tell from the way your family presented itself. Your townhouse was always clean and well decorated. Your mother made sure to always have homemade food and put all of her kids through some kind of extracurricular activities. Which is how you go into maths and sciences. You relied on scholarships and the goodness of your teachers to make it where you did. And you never wished things were different; your life made you who you were today.

So what if you didn't wear designer brands? You had immaculate fashion sense even if it was affordable.

And suddenly, you caught yourself smiling. Suddenly, everyone's facial expressions didn't look so judgmental. Someone cleared their throat beside you, and you turned to face a beautiful couple.

The man was immediately recognizable. Matching in height with Damian, Bruce Wayne looked every bit the billionaire playboy in his classic black suit jacket, accessorized with golden cufflinks, crisp white shirt, and a black bow tie. His hair was stylized and polished. Sharp facial features, visibly similar to his son's, and a well-groomed stubble enhanced his masculine charm. He held a confident, charismatic expression that exuded mystery.

He held by the waist a woman in an elegant, form-fitting black evening gown with a daring cut at the front. Her hair was styled in an updo. A statement necklace hung around her neck. Her look complemented Bruce's style while showcasing her own elegance. She gave youband Damian a knowing smile.

"Y/n, this is my father." Damian introduced you.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne." You smiled at his father and offered to shake his hand.

He took your hand in a firm grip. "Y/n," his deep voice, also similar to Damian's, greeted you. "You interned for Wayne Industries this summer, am I correct?"

"Yes," you nodded eagerly. "In R&D. It was an amazing opportunity, sir. You run a truly unique organization."

Bruce's grin widened. "Well, I'm glad to hear. Your team lead wrote a great review after you were done. When you graduate, we'd be lucky to have you."

Your cheeks certainly reddened by now, and you felt like you were out of breath as you stuttered out a "Thank you." Or at least you hoped you did. You were pretty sure you had blacked out for a moment.

You couldn't tell Damian how grateful you were for his hand on your lower back. The touch rooting you and making you feel less intimidated, or at least protected by him.

"Thank you, Father." Damian's tone was slow but menacing. "I know young, smart, and pretty are your type, but maybe try not to steal my date? Especially when you have your own..." He gave the woman a pointed look.

She and Bruce shared a knowing look before she turned to you and said in a soft, cat-like taunt. "Careful honey. The more territorial they are, the harder it is to tell if they wish to love you..." She eyed Damian in a way that, for some reason, upset you. "Or own you."

Damian's hand tightened around your waist. The woman caught the movement before her gaze returned to yours. It felt like the air around your was a hundred degrees golder. You felt goosebumps on the back of your neck when she said. "Soon enough, you'll be lucky if Damian lets any man near you."

"I think I see the mayor." Bruce spoke up, breaking the tension, and led the woman away. "We should say hello."

When they were gone, you took in a deep breath, turning to Damian, you wispered. "Was that your mother?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Thank God no." He smiled down at you, his hand rubbing circles on your back. "Did she scare you?"

"She did."

"Yeah, my father's always had a type." He spoke in disdain. For a moment, it almost looked like he was the parent who was dissappointnent in his child's choice in partners.

A small smile crept across your lips. "What's your mother like -"

He lifted your chin and placed a kiss on your lips. A polite way to shut down your question. He pulled back an inch to whisper. "I don't want to talk about my parents anymore." Against your lips.

Message received, you nodded against him. Throughout the night you met a lot of interesting people. Of course, all of them had already known Damian. And they seemed happy to interact with you both. Shy and inexperienced in small talk, you let Damian take the lead. He answered their eager questions with ease, and you noted the way men and women hung on to his every word.

The whole time, Damian's hands never let you go, visibly claiming you in front of whatever audience you had. You took up a rather interesting conversation with a man who word for the district attorney. You nodded eagerly, agreeing with every word as he said. "It's just a different way of thinking. A mathematical one."

"Those are the kinds of conversations I want to be a part of in my line of work." You admitted.

His smiled. "I'm sure you will. If you're eager enough to make it happen. Give me a call if you ever want to come see our unit at work." He handed you a business card, and you took it, nodding gratefully.

Suddenly, you felt Damian slide up from your hip to your neck, his fingers drawing circles on your collarbone. You turned to look at him, seeing his tongue poking his cheek as he eyed the man you were talking to.

"Well." The man cleared his throat. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too," you said before you were led away. Into the hall, away from the crowd.

"Where are you going?" You asked as Damian pulled you into what looked like a conference room, shutting the door behind you and pressing you against it. You looked up at him, squirming under his heated gaze. "Damian, is everything okay?"

"Leave it to you to make a two hundred dollar dress look like it was worth two thousand." He growled against your ear.

"Thank you?" You wimpered in question, unsure how to take the words.

"They were all looking at you like they wanted to take you home with them." He wispered, kissing you hard. "But they can't. You're mine."

You captured your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from moaning. The woman's words from earlier began playing in your mind. You saw Damian the way she described. Possessive, territorial. You couldn't understand why it both scared and excited you.

"Say it." He ordered. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours." You don't know why you obeyed so quickly. But the words felt right on your tongue.

"Damn right." He wispered, before kissing you hard. "Fuck, you're so beautiful." He groaned against your mouth. "I win. Out of all those men. I win."

The flattering words made you smile. It was the first time someone said something like that to you. To have it be Damian Wayne, of all people.

Eager for more of his praise, you sunk down to your knees in front of him, looking up to meet his gaze as you unbuckled his belt, lowering his pants and boxers. You bit your lip when you saw his erection, tongue sneaking out to lick up his shaft. Damian was bigger than anyone you've been with. You ran your hands over the hard muscles of his stomach before taking him in your mouth and sucking eagerly.

"Fuck yes, baby." He groaned as his fingers pulled into your hair.

You whimpered around him.

"Finger yourself while you suck my dick. Get yourself ready." He ordered.

You obeyed, you index finger touching your clit through under your dress as you whined around his cock. You worked him for minutes on end, switching from sucking to licking his head, delighting in the way his hips trusted against you and his panting sped up above you.

Damian thought he won. But looking up into his glazed dark eyes, brows furrowed in pleasure as his mouth opened... all because of you. All at your mercy. You felt like you were the one who won. No one out of all those women in that room could see him like this except you.

His hand pulled you up by your hair, pining you between himself and the wall again. You felt so fragile in his arms. "Did you finger yourself like I ask, baby?" He asked, lifting the hem of your dress.

You nodded.

His finger dipped into your whole, feeling how wet you are. He grinned at you through a hooded gaze. "Good girl."

He made quick work of lining himself up and thrusting into you. You arched off the wall and into him as your arms flew to grasp onto him. Unable to hold back, you begged him. "Damian, please kiss me!"

His lips were on yours in an instant, silencing a string of uncontrollable moans as he thrust into you over and over again. Despit holding your weight and fucking you for a long time, he never got tired. Rather he sped up, panting against your lips. "Come for me, my perfect girl,"

You nodded absentmindedly, grasping onto him, needing him as close as possible as you whispered. "Please, please..."

He thrust into you hard, both of you moaning into each other as you reached your climax. Your limbs shook even as Damian lowered you and led you to a nearby door, letting you both into a bathroom.

He used a cloth to clean up your pussy, correcting your dress and hair, before adressing his own look. All while you were dazed and coming down from the high. He held your shaking body, kissing your lips and cheeks and forehead, telling you you did a good job. At last he asked, "Are you ready to go make your donation?"

You had nearly forgotten. You turned to him, still disoriented but determined to see your goal through. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you saw that Damian did a good job of cleaning you up. Other than your flushed face, you wouldn't have been able to guess what you had just done. He offered his hand, and you took it, allowing yourself to be let out.

#smut #batman #batboys #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #dark academia

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ratsummer · 6 months ago

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Shhhhh shhhhhh I'm getting carried away here, but...

Y'all ever think about Phantom being unphased by griminess when he's first summoned?

Or maybe not unphased, but he just doesn't make cleanliness a priority. Like this guy has been roaming the circles as best he can on his own, more concerned with finding food and shelter and the reluctant ally here and there than with personal hygiene.

Summoning as a general rule isn't a very tidy affair, so no one really notices that first day. Omega and Aether give him the typical, cursory wipedown to remove the worst of the summoning... goo... before bundling him up in soft, loose, flowy robes while his skin is still sensitive. And of course, when they show him where his room his, they introduce him to the baths and let him know he has the rest of the day to clean up and settle in.

Well, morning rolls around and Dew arrives to the breakfast table, ushering a very sleepy little quint along in front of him. Cirrus scolds him for so obviously waking him up before he was ready, but Phantom insists it's okay, please, I asked him to make sure I was awake for breakfast! Don't get angry at him!

And while Phantom explains that Dew stayed up late with him to help him find and organize snacks in his room, Cumulus comes to the table, yawning wide and clutching Aether's arm. She was so excited to greet Phantom and Aurora at their summonings, hugging them tight (despite the goo) and welcoming them into the fold. She's just as excited to see them at breakfast, purring and pressing a kiss into Aurora's hair first before shuffling over to do the same for Phantom.

He can't help but flinch a little as she approaches. Old habits die hard, and he immediately rushes to apologize when she stops in her tracks and frowns. But Cumulus is used to skittish ghouls - she typically accepts boundaries gracefully. No, what's caught her off guard is-

"Phantom, sweetheart, didn't Aether show you how the bath works?" Cumulus' voice is soft and warm, but she's got Aether pinned with a disappointed glare.

Phantom curls in on himself a little, squirming and wrapping his tail around his fingers. "He did... why?"

"Little bat, you've still got... goo... clumped in your hair. That can't feel very good."

And while Phantom is squirming and explaining himself, that he was focusing on getting used to his room, Cumulus starts looking him over more carefully.

She notices his claws, broken and jagged in some spots, dirt and goo clumped around them. Little scrapes, scratches, and bruises littering what little bit of his bare skin is exposed. Hair dry and frizzed up, with tangles and knots all around the base of his horns. And his horns... dried out, brittle, chunks missing near the ends.

Well, Cirrus doesn't call her Fussy Lussy for nothing.

"Oh darling, it's okay you didn't have time last night. I'll tell you what, I was going to have a little spa day today, I've got so many new things I want to try out. How about you come along with me and I'll help you figure out all the knobs in the tub and you can try out some of my soaps!"

Phantom looks a little wary and unsure as Cumulus extends her offer, maybe trying to figure out how to say no, until Aurora gasps and starts kicking her feet excitedly.

"Oh! Phantom! Cumulus helped me wash my hair last night and her soaps smell soooooo good! You're gonna love it!"

So, that's how Phantom ends up reclined neck-deep in deliciously warm bathwater not an hour later.

Cumulus is humming quietly, sitting next to him and lighting all the candles she lined up along the edge of the tub. "These candles are always here," she explains, "And the matches live in that jar tucked over there, so you can use these anytime you want if you like them, alright?"

Phantom just hums a little to let her know he's at least kind of listening. He rubs his toes through a little pile of what Cumulus called epsom salts, enjoying the way the grains crunch and swirl around his feet as they slowly dissolve. He can't remember being so comfortably warm and relaxed, maybe ever.

"Alright, sugar, I've got so many good things to try out. Are you ready?"

Phantom loses track of time quickly, but it must be hours that they soak together. Cumulus grooms him meticulously, and it stirs up achingly precious, half-lit memories from his kit days, when he still had his parents to look after him.

She scrubs his hair thoroughly with a sweet, sudsy shampoo. Her claws scratch deliciously over his scalp, sending goosebumps down his back. She works something called conditioner in next, using her fingers and a comb to tug and tease all the knots out of his hair. Not once does she pull hard enough to hurt.

She rubs a creamy, buttery substance between her palms until it melts into a sweet-scented oil. She massages it over his horns, cooing about how it's adding so much depth to their night-blue color. His claws are next, and Cumulus patiently explains what each of her little tools is for as she goes about trimming, filing, and oiling each one. She even rubs a cream into what she tells him are his cuticles, apparently to soften them or something.

She uses the softest cloth he's ever felt in his whole life ever to wash him thoroughly with a mouth-wateringly scented soap. She's thorough, getting behind his ears and between his toes. While she washes him, she tells him they should talk to Rain later about trimming up his hair so it doesn't fall in his eyes so much. She checks in with him constantly, asking if he's still okay with her washing him or if he'd like to take over.

Once they're out and dry, she helps him put on a creamy lotion before handing him big, soft clothes to pull on. She helps him roll the sleeves and cuff the pants, having stolen them from Swiss.

"He won't miss them, sweetie. That ghoul has the comfiest loungewear and he's always happy to share."

Cumulus insists that the most important part of their spa day is to immediately crawl into her nest to snack, snooze, and watch movies. It's called beauty rest for a reason, Phantom!

It's with a full belly and a clean, relaxed body that Phantom snuggles down under Cumulus' fresh, soft blankets and promptly passes out. It's the deepest, most restorative sleep he's had in ages.

And while he sleeps, Cumulus pets his hair, rubs his back, and generally fusses over whether the blankets are covering him properly. Her entire heart has totally melted for this sweet ghoul who's seen too much hardship, and she vows to make him the most rotten, spoiled little brat the ministry has ever seen.

#okay so maybe i get carried away thinking about soft lovey grooming ghouls #i cant help myself let me live #phantom deserves the world #cumulus is going to ruin him #phantom ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghoul grooming #just fluffy nothing #head empty

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doctorbitchcrxft · 3 months ago

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Bedtime Stories | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: healing from a sexual assault, some tasteful smut (MDNI 18+ ONLY), canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 5344

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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Now that you and the brothers had a working Colt thanks to Bobby and, as much as you hated to admit it, Ruby, the brothers were debating what to do with it.

“I don't understand, Dean. Why not?” Sam questioned angrily.

“Because I said so.”

“We got the Colt now!”

“Sam…” Dean warned.

“We can summon the Crossroads Demon—”

Dean shouted over Sam, “We're not summoning anything—!”

“—pull the gun on her, and force her to let you out of the deal!” Sam finished, getting louder.

You rubbed your temples, head pounding with each shout.

“We don't even know if that'll work!” Dean roared.

“Well, then we'll just shoot her! If she dies, then the deal goes away!” Sam yelled.

“Boys!” You finally shouted, silencing them. “Both of you are going to get a grip, or so help me god, I will do this one on my own; you understand?!”

Neither man responded to you, both staring wordlessly at the road ahead.

“Sam, the crossroads demons don’t hold the contracts—” you began.

Sam cut you off. “How do you—?!”

“Let me finish!” you snapped.

Sam quieted again.

“And Dean has already said that if we fuck with this deal at all, you die.”

“And if we don't fuck with it, Dean dies!”

Dean broke back in. “Sam, enough! I am not going to have this conversation.”

The brunet scoffed. “Why, because you said so?”

“Yes, because I fucking said so!” Dean asserted.

“Well, you’re not Dad!”

The two men stared silently at each other.

“No, but I am the oldest,” Dean finally said fiercely. “And I'm doing what's best. And you're going to let this go, you understand me?”

Sam turned away and looked angrily out the window.

“Tell me about the psychotic killer,” Dean ordered calmly. “C'mon, Sam, tell me about the psychotic killer.”

Sam grabbed a paper from his lap and read monotonously. “Psychotic killer… rips victims apart with brute-like ferocity.”

“Any razor sharp teeth or four-inch claws?” you asked.

“No. But the lunar cycle's right. Look,” Sam sighed, “if it is a werewolf, we don't have long; moon's full this Friday and that's the last time it changes for a month.”

Dean shrugged. “Two days, no sweat.”

***

That night, when you arrived at the motel in the town you’d be hunting in, you and Dean got a room separate from Sam. The two boys decided they needed some time apart after their argument.

“How do you know that killing the crossroads demon won’t get rid of my deal?” Dean asked, breaking the silence that had settled over you as the two of you got ready for bed.

“Dean—”

“(Y/N),” he said sternly, turning to face you. “Answer me.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you finished pulling on your— well, Dean’s— t-shirt.

“Sweetheart, please,” he begged you. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m not gonna mince my words,” you began. “I was trying to get you out of your deal while I was gone. Y’know, before the Seven Deadlies? I tried to make a deal to get you out of yours. No one would bite.”

“(Y/N), why the fuck would you—”

“Because I love you,” you cut him off. You headed over to him and cupped his cheek in your hand. “And if I could stop you from dying without hurting Sam, I would. I’d trade my life for yours in a heartbeat.”

He kissed your palm, but you could tell he was still upset at the thought of you doing that for him. “Are you still trying?”

You shook your head and removed your hand from his face. “No. I knew you’d never forgive me if I was.”

“Damn right,” Dean replied. He stared down at you intensely, and you couldn’t quite read his expression.

You searched his eyes desperately. “What am I gonna do without you,” you breathed out before you could think about it.

Dean leaned down and rested his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of him against you.

You nuzzled your nose against his and slowly leaned in to kiss him. As soon as your lips connected, Dean wrapped his arms around you and held you against him firmly while you threaded your fingers through his hair.

You could feel Dean encouraging you to jump, and you wound your legs around his waist. He caught you easily and walked you over to the bed. Dean gently laid you back on the pillow, and you kept your ankles crossed behind his back. You tugged greedily on his shirt until he tore it off himself, and he then began pushing your shirt up your body.

You allowed Dean to remove your shirt and then your bra. He looked to you, eyes hungry but pleading and respectful. “Can I—?” He paused. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, feeling slightly proud of yourself that you were making Dean Winchester get flustered.

“Words, sweetheart,” he said.

“Yes. Please touch me,” you begged, arching into him.

He breathed out, almost in relief, and goosebumps formed under his touch as he trailed his fingers down your stomach. Searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation all the way down, he stopped his fingers at your panties.

“Dean, it’s okay,” you told him.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, staring at you intensely.

“Dee,” you told him, grabbing his wrist, “it’s okay. I’m okay.” You guided his hand into the waistband of your underwear and allowed him to slip his fingers between your folds.

You took in a sharp breath as he did so, and Dean leaned in to kiss you passionately. He gently bit your lip every once in a while, and you began to palm him through his boxers. He groaned into your mouth, and you couldn’t wait to feel him against you.

“Dean,” you said between kisses, “Dee, I need you.”

“God, yes,” he groaned, “I need you, too.”

You kissed him feverishly, hands making quick work of his and your underwear while he played with your breasts. Dean sat back on his knees and stroked his cock.

You looked up at him, somehow both doe-eyed and wantonly, and spread your legs to expose yourself to him.

“God, (Y/N),” he breathed out. “You are so… beautiful.”

You smiled warmly, instantly reaching out to pull him back down to you. He happily accepted your touch and lined himself up with your vagina.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked.

“Yes. God, yes,” you moaned.

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. Within seconds, he was inside you. He rolled his hips against yours smoothly, kissing you gently as his thrusts stretched you out deliciously. His thrusts soon became sloppy, and he broke the kiss to reach down to your clit.

“Cum for me,” he commanded gently.

“Need you to first,” you whined.

“Nuh-uh,” he replied, quickening the circles he made around your clit. “Now.”

“Dean—!” you moaned, suddenly convulsing with your orgasm. You reached out to him and scratched at his back, begging the orgasm to slow down. It hit you suddenly and rolled in in waves that you couldn’t escape from. You couldn’t tell whether or not you wanted Dean to get off you or hold you through it, and your spasming around him sent Dean into his own orgasm. Ropes of his cum shot into you, causing your own orgasm to intensify. You whined and writhed around, feeling the ecstasy would never end. It became almost painful, and Dean did his best to soothe you through it. He let you guide him to where you needed him to touch you or not touch you, and you were grateful for this rare moment of gentleness from him.

Still inside you, Dean held you against his chest as your orgasm finally subsided.

“How was that?” he smirked down at you.

You playfully shoved him away.

***

Later that night, still in that same position with Dean— you against his chest with his semi-hard cock inside you— your breathing became so deep that you thought Dean assumed you’d gone to sleep.

“I love you,” Dean admitted.

Your heart nearly stopped. You looked up to him, a flurry of emotions swirling inside you. “You do?”

He nodded. “Thought you were sleeping, honestly, but I’m glad you heard it anyway—”

You cut him off with a deep kiss, hugging him to you. You kissed all over his face, and his boyish giggle was what finally made you stop kissing him. “I love you,” you told him.

“I know.”

“Oh, my god, you did not just Star Wars me,” you scoffed playfully.

“Oh, c’mon, you had to know I would,” Dean replied, nudging his nose with yours.

***

The next day, you and the brothers headed to meet the man who’d barely survived the scuff with the werewolf. When you arrived, the man was apparently expecting you to be the sketch artist.

Much to the brothers relief, your skill with a pen came in quite handy. However, the person who’d killed his brothers was just… human. Interestingly enough, he also had a Wile E. Coyote tattoo. Quite comically, the situation reminded you of the Three Little Pigs story.

You said as much to the brothers when you left the hospital.

“(Y/N), that’s fucked up,” Sam remarked.

“I’m sorry! I know it is! But think about it,” you replied, wincing, “three brothers who work at a construction site? Mauled by a guy with a Wile E. Coyote tattoo?”

“I don’t remember the wolf having a fuckin’ cartoon tattoo, sweetheart,” Dean snorted.

“Whatever. Just thought it was funny,” you shrugged, shoving Dean’s shoulder. “Anyway, what’d you find out from the doc?”

“Not much,” Dean responded, “they were D.O.A. at the scene. He did give me the lowdown on the coroner's report.”

“Lemme guess,” Sam cut him off, “their hearts were missing.”

Dean sighed. “Nope. But chunks of their kidneys, lungs, and intestines.”

“Oh, ew,” you grimaced.

“Yeah; definitely not werewolf behavior.”

“So, what? Demon? Attacker could've been possessed,” the brunet suggested.

“Yeah, but that guy said the dude stopped halfway through the attack. Why would a demon do that?” you challenged.

“I think that, uh…” Sam trailed off. “Could've... Yeah, I got nothing.”

“Me, neither,” said Dean.

***

That night, you and the brothers had gone your separate way for the evening. Dean, of course, was still sharing a room with you.

“Hey, I meant to ask you,” Dean began, “were you… okay with last night?”

You smiled lopsidedly at him. “Yeah, I was.” You appreciated his concern with hurting you or retraumatizing you. You supposed that was one of the reasons he was so helpful to you through all this, and he was likely the reason you were able to be intimate with someone a little under five months after the attack. Had that atrocity happened to you prior to meeting Dean, you were sure your situation would’ve had a vastly different outcome.

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts and began to apply lotion to your legs sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you and Sam ever gonna talk about your seriously unfinished business?”

“I told him not to bring it up again. So no. And I’d prefer if we didn’t, either,” Dean said sharply.

“Well, frankly, I don’t give a fuck what you’d prefer. You need to apologize to him,” you told him.

“Why?” he scoffed.

“Because I said so,” you stated, throwing the phrase he’d used in his fight with Sam back at him.

He half-chuckled but was still clearly annoyed.

“See? Not so good of a reason, is it?”

Dean barely gave you time to finish your remark before he was speaking up again. “Why do you even care?”

“Because I care about you and Sam. And I have to share a car with you two for the foreseeable future. I’d rather you not wanna kill each other until the end of the line,” you jested, putting the jar of lotion on the nightstand next to you.

Dean lounged against the pillow with his head propped up on the crook of his elbow on the headboard. You shifted yourself to where you were sitting cross-legged next to his hips, facing him.

“Hey, I don’t wanna keep talking about this every day of our lives till you get dragged to Hell—”

“Good,” he cut you off gruffly, “me neither.”

“—but I’m also not gonna pretend like these discussions aren’t important. I need you to be honest with me and yourself. You are scared of going, and that’s okay—”

“Oh, god—” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Hey,” you said, pushing his chin back towards you. “I wasn’t done. But I need you to be honest with me, or this doesn’t work.” You gestured between the two of you as you spoke. “I don’t need you to be tough all the time. I just need you to keep it real with me.”

“What difference does it make? I still go to Hell when this is over anyway,” Dean replied.

“But maybe you’d be able to enjoy living a little bit more if you’d just let me in,” you said, cupping his cheek.

Dean thought for a moment before he kissed the inside of your palm. “You’re right,” was all he could say.

“I know I am,” you smirked.

He rolled his eyes at you, but there was genuine amusement behind them.

***

That night, you didn’t get much sleep. You stayed awake listening to the police scanner and stroking Dean’s hair as he slept soundly beside you. The police scanner held the least of your attention between the two, though. This was another one of those memories you’d hold near and dear to your heart when Dean was gone.

Around five in the morning, the scanner finally caught your attention. Static, frantic ramblings exchanged discussing a woman that had been found staggering around coming from the woods. When deputies went with her back to the scene, they found a house where the woman’s former hiking partner and their attacker, an old woman, lay dead in the kitchen.

You hated to wake up the man with his arms wrapped around your hips, but you knew you needed to get to the hospital the victim was being rushed to and interview her.

“Dean,” you said softly, running your hand through his hair. “Dean.”

He hummed against your hip, tightening his hold of you. You smiled but continued to try and wake him.

“Dean, c’mon.”

“Hmm,” he grumbled, “what time is it?”

“I’m not even gonna tell you, ‘cause you’ll kill me,” you joked, ruffling his hair.

He lightly shoved your hand away from his head and returned his strong arms to their original positioning around you.

“Dean! C’mon; we gotta get to the hospital. Somethin’ came in on the scanner,” you told him.

“Can it wait till seven?” he asked you.

“No.” You tried to wiggle out of his arms to move to the bathroom. He refused to let go of you, though, despite your protests through giggles. “C’mon, dude. We gotta get goin’. I gotta go get Sammy.”

“Ugh, fine,” he grumbled, pressing a kiss to your bare hip.

Goosebumps formed under his lips, and you took in a sharp breath. “Okay, okay, get off me,” you said, gently pushing his arms away from you.

***

When you arrived at the hospital, you talked to the witness who said she and her hiking partner had been drugged by an old woman who poisoned a pie she fed them.

Interestingly enough, she also mentioned seeing a little girl with dark hair and pale skin in the window outside the home.

Naturally, you and the Winchesters went to investigate the house.

You took in your wooded surroundings and the strange house sitting in the middle of nowhere. You went into the house with Sam and noted the EMF meter in his hand beeping frantically.

“(Y/N), I’m thinking you may be right about the whole fairytale thing,” Sam said.

“Dude, I was kidding—”

“Yeah, but I’m not,” he replied. “A guy and a girl? Hiking through the woods, an old lady tries to eat 'em? That's Hansel and Gretel. And, like you said, those three brothers arguing over how to build houses, attacked by the Big Bad Wolf.”

“Like the Grimm Brothers,” you realized. “Sex, violence, cannibalism; a child’s guide to fucked-up folklore.”

“Right,” Sam nodded. “Now, it got sanitized over the years; turned into Disney flicks and bedtime stories.”

“So, why would the ghost be doing a reenactment?” you wondered aloud. “The creepy girl? Pale skin and dark hair sounds like Snow White.”

“You’re right, it does,” Sam said. “But it’s weird that she’s in the middle of another fairytale. But I’m willing to bet you top dollar she was at the construction site too.”

“Dean’s gonna be thrilled. It’s research time,” you snickered.

Sam grinned at you, and the two of you went outside to inform the other brother of your musings.

***

However, your research came up empty. There had been very few violent childhood deaths in the area, and none of them involved a girl with black hair and pale skin.

Dean led you and his brother across the street from the library into the park.

“You wanna know how many little girls with black hair and pale skin that have gone missing?” Dean didn’t give you a chance to respond. “Right again. Zip. zilch, nada. Tell me you've got something good 'cause I've totally wasted the last six hours.”

Sam snorted. “Well, you ever hear of Lillian Bailey? She was a British medium from the 1930s.”

“She got a thing for fairy tales?” Dean questioned.

“Nah, trances. See she'd go into these unconscious states where, uhm, get this, her thoughts and actions were completely controlled by spirits,” the younger brother explained.

“A ghost puppet master,” Dean nodded.

You rolled your eyes. “In layman’s terms, sure.”

“Think that's what this kid is doing? Sending wolfboy and grandma into trances, making them go kill-crazy?” Dean’s brow furrowed.

The brunet shrugged. “Could be. You know, kinda like uh, uh, spirit hypnosis or somethin'.”

“Trances I get, but fairytale trances? That's bizarre even for us,” Dean sighed.

You quickly grabbed Dean’s arm to keep him from stepping on a bullfrog sitting in your path, croaking.

“Yeah, you're right. That's completely normal,” Sam remarked, looking down at the frog.

“Alright, maybe it is fairytales. Totally messed-up fairytales. Wanna kiss the frog, princess?” Dean looked over at you smirking.

“Fuck no,” you grimaced. You turned to see a pumpkin sitting on the porch of a home. “Huh,” you said.

“Yeah? It's close to Halloween,” Dean shrugged.

“No, dude, Cinderella,” you continued. “Pumpkin turns into a coach, and the mice become horses.”

Dean chuckled.

“What?” you asked.

“I dunno, just never pegged you for the fairytale type. You’re a little rough around the edges compared to the Disney princesses.”

“I’ll try not to take offense to that,” you joked, “but I was a little girl once; y’know that, right?” You picked the lock on the house and led the brothers inside.

It was completely quiet, and you and the Winchesters wordlessly decided to split up.

You moved toward the kitchen, and someone inside apparently heard you.

“Help! I'm in here!” a voice called.

“Shh, shh, hey!” you said, rushing into the kitchen. There was a teenage girl handcuffed to the oven. You immediately set to work picking the lock on the cuffs. “It’s okay, I got you,” you told her.

The girl was crying, and her blonde hair was a complete mess. “You have to help me. She's a lunatic.”

“What happened?” you asked quietly.

“My step mom, she just freaked out, screamed at me, beat me. Chained me up,” she explained, sniffling.

“Where is she now?” you asked.

“I don't know.”

You looked up at a shadow behind you to see the little girl with dark hair peeking out from behind the kitchen door. When she noticed you saw her, she turned and left.

You turned back to the teenager and told her you’d be right back, and she nodded.

You walked into the living room, and the little girl was gone.

Discouraged, you turned around to go back to the kitchen. Surprisingly, the girl was standing just behind you.

“Who are you?” you asked.

She said nothing, simply looking at you with sad eyes, and then she disappeared again. You looked down where she stood to find a red apple. “Hi, Snow.”

***

You sat on the hood of the Impala next to Dean, who played with the apple. Sam headed up to you with his hands in his pockets. “Paramedics picked up Cinderella,” he said.

“That's good,” Dean said. He tossed the apple to Sam.

“So, looks like my Snow White theory checks out,” you noted.

“Snow White? Ah, I saw that movie. Or the porn version anyway; 'cause there was this wicked stepmother? Woo, she was wicked,” Dean grinned.

You lightly slapped his shoulder and gave a warning glare. “There is an evil stepmother. And she tries to kill Snow White with a poison apple. But the apple doesn’t kill her; she just falls into a deep sleep. So it’s like she’s dead.”

Sam tossed the apple to you, and you took out your knife. You sliced a piece of the apple off, and the apple began to ooze an acid-like fluid into your hand. You threw it to the ground, mumbling, “Gross.”

***

Once back at the hospital, the nurse informed you there were no comatose little girls. All of their comatose patients were either old men or Callie, who was around sixteen years old.

“Yeah, it's so sad,” the nurse explained. “And poor Dr. Garrison, he just… won't give up on her.”

“Is Callie one of his patients?” Sam asked.

She shook her head. “No. His daughter.”

Exchanging a brief glance with Sam, you and the Winchesters politely thanked the nurse before heading to Callie’s room. Sadly, you looked on as Dr. Garrison read a book to his daughter.

Squinting at the book, you were able to make out the book he was reading to her was Little Red Riding Hood.

Dr. Garrison then noticed you were there and stepped outside the room to talk to you. “Detectives. Can I help you?”

“We just... heard that Callie is your daughter,” Dean said.

“And we wanted to say how very sorry we are,” Sam finished.

Dr. Garrison cleared his throat. “Well, uh. Thank you. If you'll excuse me.”

“Oh, heading this way?” Dean quirked a brow. “We'll walk with you. How long's Callie been like that?”

“We don't mean to intrude,” you clarified.

“We can't possibly understand how hard it must be for you seeing her like this,” Sam added.

The doctor sighed. “It's not easy. She's uh, been here since she was eight years old.”

“That's when she was poisoned?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. Swallowed, uh, bleach,” he explained. “Never figured out how she got her hands on the bottle. My wife found her, uh, brought her to the ER here and I was on call.”

“Your wife was uh, was that Callie's stepmother?” Dean asked.

Dr. Garrison stopped walking and looked at Dean strangely. “Actually, yes. How'd you know that?”

The older brother shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

“Well, Julie was the only mother that uh, Callie ever knew. My wife passed away last year and, uh… it's just my daughter and me now.” He paused for a moment, becoming quite choked up. “She's all I've got left. Um, excuse me. I've gotta get back to work.”

You watched as the doctor moved down the hall, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

Sam tapped you to turn you around and led you and Dean back down the hall.

“Well, you're right. It's Snow White in spades,” Dean said to you. “Yep. Step-mom poisons the girl, puts her into a deep sleep. What's the motive, you think?”

“Could be like Mischa Barton. Sixth Sense, not the O.C.,” Dean corrected himself.

Sam seemed confused. “What?”

“Hey, you know fairy tales, I know movies,” Dean commented. “She played the pasty ghost. You know the, uh, remember the mom had that thing you know, where you keep the kid sick so you get all the attention?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, uh, Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. Huh, could be.”

“So, say all these years, Callie's been suffering silently because nobody knows the truth about what mommy dearest did?”

“And after all this time her spirit just gets angrier and angrier, until it finally just starts lashing out.”

“I’d be pretty pissed to if I was sixteen and still having to listen to my dad read me fuckin’ fairytales,” you added. “It's enough to drive anybody nuts.”

“Okay, but how are we gonna stop her?” Sam questioned. “I mean, Callie's stuck here; her father's keeping her body alive.”

“It does make it a bit hard to burn the bones,” Dean mumbled.

“Ya think?” you deadpanned.

“Coming in!” Someone called from the double doors across the hall from you. You watched as EMTs rushed an old woman in on a stretcher. “Seventy-two year old female, sustained multiple lacerations and puncture wounds. BP is eighty over forty and falling. Sinus tachycardia.”

“Is that a bite?” a doctor asked.

“Looks like she was mauled by a mad dog or, maybe a wolf?”

“What was the last story Dr. Garrison was reading Callie?” Dean asked rhetorically.

You answered anyway. “Good ole Little Red.”

***

The three of you hung around asking the EMTs and policemen that had responded to the scene questions after the grandmother had been pronounced dead. You found out from the policemen that the woman had a granddaughter.

“I’ll stay here,” you told the boys in a hushed voice. “You two go stop the Big Bad Wolf.” You handed the paper with the address of the granddaughter’s home on it over to Dean, who nodded.

“What about you?” Sam asked.

“I’m gonna try to stop Callie,” you said.

Both boys seemed to understand what you meant, even though you weren’t quite sure how to handle this properly yourself.

You immediately set to work searching the corridors for Dr. Garrison. Finally, you found him. “Hi! I need to speak with you,” you announced, approaching him.

“Detective. What can I do for you?” he asked.

“There’s no easy way to say this, but it’s about Callie,” you said sheepishly.

“My daughter? What about her?” The doctor furrowed his brows at you.

“What happened to Callie wasn’t an accident,” you explained. “And Callie’s been trying to tell you that.”

“I don’t have time for this. Stay the hell away from me and my daughter.” Dr. Garrison stormed away from you and toward Callie’s room.

You followed, hot on his heels. “Think about it, man, how’d she get her hands on the bleach? Why would she drink so much of something like that?” You slipped into the room behind the doctor as he reached for the phone on the wall.

“I’m calling security.”

You clamped your hand over the phone to stop him. “Nope. You’re smart. Think about it. If you don’t listen to me, Callie’s gonna hurt somebody else.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” the doctor cried.

“You're gonna think I'm crazy,” you sighed, “but just understand me. Your daughter Callie is still here. She's a spirit.”

Dr. Garrison’s panic suddenly calmed, and he turned to his daughter’s bed sadly. “So you've seen her too.”

You were shocked. “Wait, you called me a lunatic, and you’ve been seeing her, too?”

“I sensed her,” Dr. Garrison sniffed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Callie. Her presence, her scent. I even saw her standing at the foot of my bed but I never believed it, I thought I was dreaming, I—”

You shook your head. “Not a dream. She looks like she did when she was eight, right? She’s been trying to talk to you.” Dr. Garrison sighed. “You're not a cop are you?”

You shook your head again, pursing your lips together.

“Then, who are you?”

“Meh, I know a thing or two about this stuff,” you shrugged. “And I also know that your wife was the one to do this to Callie.”

“And how the hell would you know that?!”

“Because Callie told me,” you replied simply. “What?!” Dr. Garrison exclaimed. “My wife loved Callie. So how is— how is that possible?”

“I don’t know. But it is,” you said.

He got up from the bed and began to pace. “No. No I— I don't believe you.”

“Look, dude, believe whatever you want. But your daughter’s pissed. And rightfully so. Nobody’s listening to her. Listen to your damn daughter.”

Dr. Garrison took a deep breath, then nodded. “Callie? Callie, it's Daddy,” he called into the room. “It's me, Daddy. Is it true? Mommy did that to you? I–I know I wasn't listening before, but I'm listening now. Daddy's here. Please honey, is– is there any way that you can tell me?”

The doctor looked back at you, and you nodded to the space beside him where Callie’s spirit stood.

Dr. Garrison turned, and tears immediately flooded his eyes at the sight of his child. “Is it true?”

Callie’s spirit nodded.

“Oh— I'm so sorry, baby. But listen to me,” Dr. Garrison begged through his tears. “You gotta stop what you're doing, okay? You're hurting people. I know everything now. I know the truth. It's time for you to let go. It's time for me to let you go.” He turned back to the body in the hospital bed. The doctor leaned down to the girl and caressed her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he cried.

Callie’s monitor flatlined.

***

That night, as Dean slept soundly in your shared bed, you were sat at the table by the window; the journal in front of you only illuminated by the moonlight.

You paperclipped the sketch you’d done for the surviving construction worker of the man who’d attacked him and his brothers into your journal next to the spot where you wrote your latest excerpt.

“As much as I hate to admit it,” you inked, “some part of me believes everything happens for a reason. I’m not big on the whole ‘faith’ thing, but I’ve always thought that. And I can’t help but wonder if Callie’s case is, like, some sort of astral allegory to my situation with Dean. Maybe I’m supposed to let him go. Maybe he was just supposed to be with me for a short time, and I’m supposed to just move on.

“And that fucking sucks. And I can’t accept that. It’s weird; a lot of the cases I work parallel my actual life. And I frequently try to ignore that fact. But this one is really just beating me over the head with possible ‘hidden meaning.’

“But then, I think, if everything happens for a reason, and nothing is coincidence, then somebody’s gotta be pulling the strings here, right? Some sort of fucked-up cosmic being is using my life for his twisted entertainment. It’s using Dean going to hell for the sake of a good fucking storyline or something stupid like that. I don’t understand. I thought ‘god’s plan’ was supposed to be good? I thought he had ‘intentions to prosper us, never to harm us’?

“Anyway. I feel like I’ve thoroughly hashed out my feelings on religion too many times before. At this point, I’m completely over the concept of god. If he is real, I hope he fucking chokes.”

You put your pen down when a blinding light abruptly hit the corner of your eye. You opened the curtains a little more to see the Impala beginning to move out of the parking lot.

Sam had driven you and Dean back from the hospital, and he brought the keys with him to his room. You assumed that was no accident.

“What are you doing, Samuel,” you muttered, staring after the car.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

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