#Sorry I'm so tunnel vision on him these days | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sceletaflores · 1 month ago

Text

it’s the easiest thing (just love me and eat me)

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 6.1k

anon says: nat pls speak on sub!logan...people are hating on the sub!logan agenda and someone needs to show them that they're wrong and it can be done cuz if anyone can convince them it's you mommy!

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, crimson! again! she's back!, slight angst, swearing, violence, light gore, somewhat dark content, religious symbolism? (idk this one got weird babes), established relationship, lowkey a toxic relationship but you didn't hear that from me, sub!logan-ish, handjob, p in v, slow sex turned rough, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, pain kink, scent kink, blood play, blood...eating (drinking? idk), porn with a tiny bit of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: anon i'm so sorry this took me so long...i hope it was worth the wait! it started as a short smutty drabble that somehow turned into…this? idk it got out of hand so fast. i am a proud member of the sub!logan nation but that's mostly because i think that ALL men have the potential for sub vibes like doesn't matter who he is if i want to fuck him he's probably a little subby. special shout out to my baby boo and fellow sub!logan truther @avocado-writing <3 tysm for sharing anon! xoxo mwah.

dividers by icon @saradika-graphics!

psst! want more logan and crimson? here's the to the bone au masterlist!

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

The team had a big scare earlier in the day.

It was supposed to be an easy mission, bust a mutant trafficking ring in Albany. You do assignments like these every week, and as sick as it sounds, it’s almost routine.

But this one was different. It was an ambush, and you were compromised.

Only humans, but they were smart. Waited until the team split up to attack. They had tech, things you'd never seen before.

Big guns loaded with tiny darts full of an ominous red liquid.

It was your fault really. You didn't clear your surroundings, so focused on getting to the kids that you let yourself get sloppy.

The tiny sting in your back barely registered, you don't think you would have even noticed if it didn't kick in so fast.

You'd never felt anything like it before in your life.

It didn't hurt. The rush of pain you braced yourself for never coming.

The sensation was strange—like your body was shutting down, piece by piece. You fell to your knees, shaky legs folding under you in less than a second.

You felt empty, wrong. An eerie silence trickling in to fill your insides.

Panic bubbled beneath your skin, but you were too numb to feel it. Trapped in the mounting weight of your limbs, the slow blink of your eyes, the shortness of breath despite hardly moving.

Your hand slipped across the gritty cement, reaching for support that wasn't there.

That was when you saw it, the shock of it was enough for your heart to drop. Your skin, blanched and sallow, the veins in your arms black and spreading like spilled ink.

You tried to fight it, tried to will your body to move, to react, to do something. You had to get up. You had to. The kids.

As hard as you willed yourself, there was nothing. It was like your body wasn't your own, like it had become something completely foreign.

You could barely make out the tiny voices calling for you. Pleading, frantic yelps of your name fading into a dull hum as everything went hazy. The edges of your vision blurring into a narrow tunnel.

He stepped in front of you, the same one who shot you. A cynical grin on his face and collar in his hand. You'd seen collars like it before, used on mutants to muzzle their abilities, to weaken them.

You tried, fingers barely twitching by your. Nothing. Just another shock of that cold, unfamiliar feeling shooting through your body.

“Got a big one, boss.” The man boasted into a comm strapped to his wrist, his voice sharp and grating. He took a single step towards you, smug grin still stretched across his face. “Yeah, real nice lookin' one too. She'll sell for—“

A muddy roar pulsed through the molasses filled haze of your ears, six claws flying through the air to embed themselves on either side of the man's skull with a wet, stomach-churning sound.

The collar dropped from his slackened grip with a dull bang, shattering into different pieces that slid across the floor haphazardly. A mess of wires and metal.

There were rushed footsteps before he dropped to his knees in front of you, his torso bathed in a dull glow from the overhead lights yellow shine.

There was blood splattered across the side of his face, slicking the front of his suit enough to reflect light off the leather.

Logan, perched in front of you like an angel.

Not one with a golden halo and a harp, but a indescribable mess of eyes and wings looming over you calling 'be not afraid'.

You'd never seen him so shaken before. All wide-eyed and pale as he checked you over for any major injuries. His breath coming in short bursts, hands frantic and shaky as they skated along your body for the viscosity of blood or uneven shift of a break.

He refused to let you even try and walk on your own, swept you off the floor and cradled your trembling body to his chest as he called for help. The beat of his heart was fast beneath your cheek, strong enough that you could feel it even through the thick leather of his suit.

You buried your face deeper in the crook of his neck, the pit in your stomach barely warmed by the feel of him. His scent is strongest there, so much so that in a room full of spilled blood, you could only smell him.

He was careless stepping over clawed up bodies littering the floor like a messy maze of twitching limbs and entrails. You didn't even know there was more than one guard in the room.

The evidence of his love for you, of his devotion, oozing red on the concrete.

Logan didn't even give the carnage a sideways glance as he raced you outside, back to the jet.

Trusting Scott and Jean to take over getting the kids out. The unsteady murmurs he pressed to the top of your head the last thing you heard before there was nothing.

You woke up six hours later.

The sterile hum of medical equipment was the first thing you heard. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled your nostrils, and the faint pressure of a needle in your arm confirmed that you were hooked up to an IV.

Your muscles felt heavy, like someone had filled them with lead. But you were alive.

You could feel your body working overtime, fixing itself. The sickening shift of your insides falling back into place.

It took a few more moments for you to realize you weren’t alone.

A low, familiar rumble caught your attention. You turned your head to see Logan slumped in a chair by the bedside, his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His hair was mussed, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion.

He looked different, smaller, as though the weight of what happened was pressing down on him, making him fold in on himself.

You’d seen him bloody, beaten, on the verge of death, but you’d never seen him like this–completely and utterly human.

Your throat was too dry to speak, but a small sound escaped you, and Logan's head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and in a heartbeat, he was at your side, his large hands hovering over you, unsure where to touch, like he was afraid you’d shatter under his fingers.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. His voice was hoarse, cracked with a mixture of relief and something else, something deeper. His eyes darted over your face, your arms, as if memorizing every detail just to make sure you were real.

“I'm sorry,” you managed, your voice barely more than a rasp.

Logan's eyebrows furrowed, the lines in his forehead deepening. "What the hell are you apologizing for?" His voice was gruff, but there was a tenderness beneath it. A gentleness he only reserved for you.

Your lips cracked into a weak smile. "It was my fault. I messed up."

A growl rumbled low in his chest, and you could feel the anger simmering just beneath his skin, not at you but at the situation, at whoever had dared to hurt you.

“Don’t,” he said, voice like gravel. “Don't start, none of this is on you.” His voice softened slightly as he leaned closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “What matters is you’re here.”

The reassurance wrapped around you like a warm blanket, grounding you.

Logan’s thumb traced the line of your jaw, his touch sending a spark of warmth through your veins. “When I saw you on the floor like that…I thought—” He shook his head, jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet your gaze again. “I thought I lost you.”

Your fingers twitched slightly, managing to catch his wrist, squeezing it with what little strength you had. “I’m right here,” you said softly, voice clearer than before. “I’m okay.”

Logan’s gaze softened again as he looked down at your hand, his rough exterior cracking just a little more. He gently pried your fingers from his wrist and pressed your hand to his chest, right over his heart. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”

You tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a breathless huff. “Didn’t mean to.”

He shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You never do.”

You were fine an hour later.

The color of your skin had returned, glossy and like new. The hollow emptiness inside of you long gone. Your abilities passed every test Charles threw your way with flying colors.

Fully recovered and finally excused from the med-bay after Hank and Jean checked you over one last time, you were given your strict marching orders in the form of extra fluids and bed rest, no matter how much you argued that you were fine.

Your health was the last thing on your mind, just a distant phantom ache each time your eyes would find Logan.

He was still shaken up, even after all the reassurance from Charles and Hank. He kept close the rest of the day, hovering, his presence more protective than usual, but he didn’t talk much.

You could see it in the way he moved, slower, less sure, like he was carrying around something too heavy to shake off. It lingered in the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands flexed as though still looking for something to fight, to protect you from.

It wasn’t hard to guess what it was.

You hated seeing him like this, burdened by a guilt he didn’t deserve.

It gnawed at you, that heaviness. The way he started to shut down, to close himself off in the face of fear. It was the only way he knew how to cope.

After seeing him like that, bed rest was the last thing on your mind.

You knew Logan. Knew what he needed when his thoughts got tangled up like this, dragging him under. He wasn't the type to sit and talk through it, not easily anyway.

And even though you know he’d never ask for it himself, you knew what he needed—to be reminded, physically, that you were still here, still his.

Later that night, when the mansion had quieted and the others were tucked away in their rooms, you found him exactly where you thought you’d find him—in the room you shared, sitting on the edge of the bed. The yellow light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across his face, the tension in his jaw still there.

A frown tugged the corners of your mouth as you moved towards him, catching his attention with the rustle of the sheets as you sat next to him.

“Logan,” you say softly, breaking the stillness. He doesn't respond, only the slightest twitch in his shoulders indicating he even heard you. “Hey,” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time.

He turns his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile, the crease between his brows, weariness etched into his features.

But he still doesn't speak.

You shift, moving closer until your fingers brush his arm, the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of his shirt. “Look at me,” you whisper, and finally, his gaze lifts to meet yours, guarded and pained. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Logan shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run it through his already messy hair. “You could’ve died,” he bites out, tone rough and low. “We should've never fuckin' split up. I should’ve been there faster, sooner. I should’ve–”

“Logan.” Your voice cut through his, sharper than you meant it to. You catch his hand in yours, thumb brushing against the pulse point of his wrist. “You saved me, I’m not going anywhere. I need you to hear that.”

He meets your gaze then, eyes dark with something vulnerable, something raw. He nods weakly, like he only half-believes it. You can still see the hesitation swirling through his eyes, the reluctance in the stiffness of his muscles against yours.

He needs something more than words, something to bring him back to you.

With that, you move to straddle his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His body stiffens under yours, his breath hitching slightly as his hands fall to your waist almost instinctively.

“Hold on,” Logan starts, tone hesitant and hands light as they hover over your hips like he’s still scared to touch you. “You heard what Hank said–”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, finality lacing your tone and leaving no room for argument. You reach down, taking his hand in yours and bringing it up to press flat directly over your heart. The very same way he did your first night together. "Can you feel me?”

The question hangs between you, soft but weighted with purpose.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat, fingers splaying wider across your chest. The heat of his palm sinks through to your skin, lighting a fire in you.

The steady beat of your heart under his touch is an undeniable reminder–alive, strong, with him. You can feel him relax, just a touch.

The tension in his muscles breaking down beneath you piece by piece as the rhythm grounds him, helps to pull him out of his spiral.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, barely audible. His eyes drop to where his hand rests, his thumb absently grazing the space just above your sternum. “I feel you.”

“Then trust it,” you murmur. “Trust me.”

A deep, slow breath escapes him, and something in his eyes softens just enough. You lean closer, your fingers trailing up his arms, over his shoulders, until they thread into the hair at the nape of his neck.

You smile softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He sighs deeply, leaning into your touch like a dog starved of attention from its master. His grip on your waist finally tightens, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to feel that edge of need—the need to let go.

“You’ve been taking care of me all day,” you murmur, scratching your nails along his scalp softly. “Now let me take care of you.”

You feel him shudder, a weak groan escaping from his slack lips. His hazy eyes search your face, pupils blown out and seeping into the warm hazel color like an oil spill over a lake.

You tilt your head, lips grazing the stubble on his jawline, moving slowly, deliberately, until you can capture his mouth in a kiss.

It’s soft at first, gentle, but you feel him melt into it, the sharp edge of his restraint crumbling as he kisses you back with a kind of hunger that fuels you.

Logan’s hands slide up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as you take control, deepening the kiss, coaxing him further into the moment.

His mouth is warm and wet and urgent against yours, the scrape of his teeth along your bottom lip sends a thrill down your spine.

His lips move over yours with a reverence that makes your chest tighten, as if each slick glide of your lips together is an apology, a promise, and a plea all rolled into one.

But you don’t want his apologies. You want his surrender.

His breath stutters in his chest when your fingers twist in his hair, tugging just enough to remind him who’s in charge tonight.

When your hand finds his chest, pushing him down gently, he goes without protest. His eyes never leave yours as he settles against the pillows, following your every movement as you crawl closer.

Climbing over him to perch on top of his thighs, you waste no time in reaching for the hem of his shirt, gently tugging on it in a silent question. Logan’s breath comes in shallow puffs as he nods, fingers twitching on your hips.

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls under the tips of your fingers, the sharp intake of air when your hands ghost across the skin of his lower stomach as you lift his shirt up and over his head.

You toss it over your shoulder carelessly, it lands with a muted thump somewhere behind you, leaving his chest bare. His muscles taut and rippling as he forces himself to stay still, the dim light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours along his torso.

You take a moment to just admire him, trailing your fingers along the familiar planes of his skin. Your touch is feather light, tracing over the spots that should be littered in scars.

The place in his shoulder where he got shot two weeks back, or where the loose shrapnel that embedded itself in his side on the last mission should be, or the skin where his shoulder meets his neck after you dug your teeth into it hard enough to bleed a few nights ago.

The way his body responds to you makes your pulse quicken—the way he finally relaxes completely under your touch, melting into the mattress.

You continue your path down, fingers slipping through the ridges of his abs, scratching your nails through the dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his bottoms teasingly. The muscles of his stomach jump under your touch, the power of his need thrumming beneath your touch.

You drag your hand over the hard length of him, his cock thick and hot as it twitches beneath your fingers. There’s a sharp hiss bleeding through grit teeth as his hips twitch up off the mattress ever so slightly.

You lean forward, hiding a small smirk in the crook of his neck. “Logan,” you whisper, voice dripping with intent, “I want you to beg for it.”

A deep, guttural growl rumbles through his chest. It shakes your body like thunder, finding a home between your thighs. Logan’s head falls back against the pillows, exposing the tan column of his throat to your hungry gaze.

It’s almost immediate, your reaction, your bodies reaction. The pulse of your blood starts to simmer with that telltale heat, slowly bubbling beneath your skin in anticipation.

Your gaze traces along where the vein of his jugular presses against his skin enticingly, barely suppressing a full body shiver at the sight.

You slip your index and middle finger beneath his waistband, brushing against his hard cock with barely any pressure. His hips buck up again, seeking more friction, but you pull back slightly, making him chase it.

“I said beg, Logan,” you murmur, your voice low, teasing, a sharp edge to it now. Your free hand comes up, gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at you.

His eyes, dark and blown wide with lust, meet yours, and you can see the war raging inside him—the urge to dominate, to take control—but then he’s giving in to you, surrendering so beautifully.

“Goddamn,” he rasps quietly, his voice rough, broken. It’s barely a word, more of a growl torn from his throat. He bites it out, quiet and foreign sounding coming from his tongue. “Please, I need—”

“Good boy,” you purr, and finally, drag the soaked fabric of his bottoms down. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach lewdly.

You moan softly, deftly wrapping your fist around him loosely. Logan groans, you swear you can hear his teeth grind together at the first feeling of your touch where he wants it most.

He’s scalding to the touch, velvety skin throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Rock-hard and flushed an angry red, darkening even more the closer you get to the tip.

You keep the pace of your strokes tortuously slow, letting him feel every movement, teasing him. It’s addictive, watching the way he starts to unravel beneath you at the slightest touch.

His legs kick out against the mattress minutely, hands falling from your hips to grip the sheets as hard as he can in a failing attempt to calm himself.

You lean down, slick lips brushing against his as you speak, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you tonight, aren't you?”

Logan nods, his breath coming in quick pants, his sweaty chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yes,” he chokes out, eyes brimming with need. “Fuck, do whatever you want, baby. I’m yours.”

The usual dominance he carries like a second skin has been peeled away, leaving him vulnerable, laid out beneath you, at your mercy.

Your hand speeds up, grip tightening as you twist your wrist over his leaking tip. Your knuckles shine with pre-come, slick from the gratuitous amount of wetness steadily drooling out.

“You’re being so good for me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice soft and laced with praise. “So good, letting me take care of you like this.”

His response is a loud moan, his hips arching up off the bed, but you’re quick to press them down with your free arm, your thighs tightening around him.

“Not yet,” you warn, strength on display as you stop his movements. “You’ll come when I say.”

A strangled sound escapes him, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, and it sends a thrill through you. He’s right there, teetering on the edge, but he’s holding on—for you.

“Poor thing,” you mumble, idly pressing your thumb into his slit, gathering the precome there to spread it along the flushed crown. “So hard, so needy for me.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Logan whines, his head tipping back against the pillows a second times, eyes squeezing shut tighten enough to wrinkle the skin around them.

You smile, your nails digging into his chest as you shift, positioning yourself above him. The heat between your legs is unbearable now, slick all along your inner thighs as it pools from your aching cunt, drenching the soft cotton of your panties.

So desperate to be stretched around Logan’s cock, to be filled the only way he can. You roll your hips forward, the hard jut of his cock sliding through the sticky mess of your panties.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, loud and hoarse. “Fuck, give it to me, I’m ready–”

You press your finger to his lips, silencing him as you hover over him. “Not yet,” you whisper, a wicked grin on your face as you slide your panties to the side and take him in your hand, letting the tip brush against your soaked entrance, still not giving him what he craves.

Your own patience is starting to run thin, but the sound of his begging is too good.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” you say, your voice sharp and commanding as you rub the tip of him along your cunt, teasing. “Tell me what you need.”

He’s trembling beneath you, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you sink down slightly, barely letting him inside. "Please, darlin'," he groans, voice rough with need. "I need to feel you—need you so fuckin’ bad."

You finally give in, sinking down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion.

His body jerks beneath you, a choked growl spilling from his lips as you take him in, inch by inch. You don’t stop until he’s buried deep inside you, your walls clenching around him as you settle into his lap.

The feeling is overwhelming, the stretch, the heat, the way he fills you completely.

You both groan at the same time, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you roll your hips, savoring the way he pulses inside you, how his entire body reacts to every little movement.

“God, you’re so big,” you whisper, your voice heavy with lust as you look down at where your bodies meet. “You gonna be a good boy and let me ride you?”

“Fuck,” he grits, voice like gravel crunching underfoot.

His hands slide up your back, desperate and needy as they cradle the back of your head softly. “I’d kill them all,” he pants, lips messily searching for your own, desperate for more frantic kisses. “Fuckin’ all of them, all for you.”

You moan loud and unabashed, eyes screwing shut as your nails rake down his chest hard enough to break the skin. The smell of his blood breaks through the air, heady and sharp. He throws his head back, a broken gasp dragged out of him as his hips speed up.

You think back to the room in the warehouse, the floor slick with stray remains and viscera. Think back to him lifting you to his chest, of the blood spattered across his suit and face slipping against your own clammy skin.

Flashes of Logan running to you like a loyal livestock dog, covered in the blood of any wolf that dares attack his precious sheep. Staining the white of your wool red with the righteous wrath of his sacrifice.

You roll your hips faster, bouncing with enough force to have you crying out. The tight suction of your walls pulling him as deep as he can get at this angle.

The coarse hair along his stomach drags against your throbbing clit, making white hot sparks of pleasure zing up your spine to light up each vertebrae.

Logan presses his forehead to your chest, hot breath puffing out over your sweaty neck. You tilt your head to the side almost subconsciously, bearing more of yourself to him.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he admits weakly, blunt nails digging into your skin sharp enough to sting. “Feels so good, so fuckin' good."

He trails off, face pinched with ecstasy as he gazes up at you. You smile, rolling your hips slowly, tiny figure eights that let you feel every inch of him pressing against your walls.

“You're not supposed to hold back," you whisper, your voice thick with need as you lean down, kissing along his jawline. "I want you to let go, Logan."

His eyes snap open, the hazel gone wild and desperate, and it’s like you can see the exact moment he breaks. The tiniest shred of self control finally crumbling under the weight of his instincts. With a low, feral growl, he surges up.

You’re on your back quicker than you can blink, stomach surging with it. You hardly have any time to react, Logan punching all the air out of your lungs as he sets a brutal pace.

The sudden intensity has you gasping, your body jolting as he takes over, fucking you like his life depends on it.

Each thrust is hard and deep, hitting the spot inside of you, over and over again until you’re a trembling mess above him, moaning his name, your nails digging into his chest.

Logan’s grip on you is ironclad, pulling you back onto him harder, faster, his breaths coming out in ragged pants as he loses himself completely in the heat of your body.

"That's it," you pant, feeling the way your body tightens around him, the tension building deep inside you. "Fuck, Logan, just like that—"

He growls again, the sound vibrating through his chest as he slams into you harder, his pace relentless. You can feel the sweat slick between your bodies, hear the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies coming together as his control snaps completely.

“Mine,” he growls between thrusts, voice low and rough as he pounds into you, his eyes locked on yours, full of possessive need. "All fuckin’ mine."

Your body responds to his words, tightening around him as your orgasm builds, every nerve in your body on fire. "Yes," you gasp, your voice barely more than a broken moan as he hits that perfect spot again and again. "Yours—only yours."

Slowly, deliberately, you bring your hand to your mouth, biting down on the pad of your thumb hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

The scent of iron fills the space between you, mixing with the musk of sex and sweat. Logan’s nostrils flare as he takes in the scent, his pupils dilating further, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You raise your thumb to his mouth, sliding it along his bottom lip to leave behind a thin trail of red. “Suck,” you whisper softly, pressing your thumb into his mouth ever so slightly.

And he does, without hesitation.

Logan’s lips part, and he pulls your thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the taste of your blood. The look in his eyes as he does sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

The pure devotion of the act thickening the air around you to coil the spring of pleasure winding in your lower stomach tighter.

You groan, your own restraint folding like a house of cards as you drag your nose down the column of his throat, stopping right at the base. You press a quick kiss over the rapid fluttering of his pulse before you bite down, hard.

Logan keens around your thumb, teeth digging into your skin roughly as his blood floods your mouth.

You get lost in it, the familiar taste of him seeping onto your tongue as his cock jerks and pulses in your clenching cunt. Getting lost in the way you can feel the rhythm of his heart against your lips, each strong beat sending more blood pumping out to leak along your taste buds.

You press your chest to his, not leaving an inch of space between you. It’s still not enough, it will never be enough.

You need more, so much more.

You want to encompass him completely, to be encompassed by him.

You want to dig your hands into his skin–to peel back each layer of flesh and fat and muscle, snap each of his ribs back so you can bury yourself in the cavity of his chest before you bend them back into place. Burrowing yourself deep enough inside him to watch him heal all around you, to watch his skin stitch itself back together.

It’s a sick feeling, the need to take and take until he has no more left to give. Sick and all consuming, lighting you up like the raging flames of a forest fire that destroys everything in its path.

When you finally pull your hand away from his mouth, he lets out a breathless moan, and you lean down to press your lips against his in a bruising kiss.

The coppery tang of your blood lingers between you, mixing with Logan’s as your teeth clash together violently, as you devour him, pouring every ounce of your control into the kiss.

You press your palm to his chest, powers surging to life over his heart. You don't need to open your eyes to see what you leave behind, the red and blue pulse of his blood lighting up beneath his skin like the neon sign hanging outside his favorite bar.

Logan moans into your mouth, tongue dragging along the point of your canines. "Don't stop," he pleads, “Please, baby, don’t fuckin’ stop.”

You can feel the energy coursing between you, a tangible thing that's threading itself between your fingers. It’s intoxicating, a connection deeper than flesh, a binding of souls fueled by blood and lust. You lean into the heat radiating from him, urging your energy to flow freely, wrapping it around his heart like a warm embrace.

“Logan,” you whisper breathily, breaking the kiss just enough to look into his wild, pleading eyes. “You feel that? You and me, we’re connected.”

“I feel it, honey,” he groans, bucking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper. “You’re everywhere. It’s all I can think about all the goddamn time, drives me fuckin’ crazy.” His words tumble from his lips, raw and unfiltered, sending another thrill of desire through you.

You whine, head tipping back to the ceiling. Drunk of the feeling of him, of his cock, of his blood on your teeth.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church.

There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of him like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship.

Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion.

The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips.

His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin.

The sound of your name falling from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered.

You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. His blood, mixing with yours on your tongue feels like a sacrament—an unholy communion.

The air between you crackles with heat, your bodies moving together in perfect sync, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. Logan’s head tilts back, his mouth open in a silent scream as he claws at your hips, pulling you down harder, deeper.

“I’m close,” he groans, his voice strained, desperate. “Please—fuck—I need to—”

You reach up quickly, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “Look at me when you fuck me,” you demand, your voice sharp, dripping with authority. “I want you to watch me when you come.”

That’s all it takes.

Logan’s entire body goes taut, a strangled roar tearing from his throat as he buries himself inside you one last time, the force of his release crashing through him. The hot spray of his come floods your insides, drenching your walls in thick spurts of white.

His hands grip you so tightly you’re sure there’ll be bruises blooming later, but you don’t care. You wish they wouldn’t fade. You want them. You want to wear his mark, to feel the evidence of this moment lingering on your skin long after it’s over.

His hips don’t stop even as he comes, a sharp cry ripping its way from his throat as he keeps fucking you, pumping you full of him like he can’t stop.

When you feel him start to lose control like that, feel the frantic twitch of his cock inside you, you finally let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. The force of it rips a scream from your throat as you clench around him, your body spasming with the intensity of it.

Your abused cunt gushes around his cock to seep into the mattress, soaking both the sheets and his lower body all at once as you let out a weak mutter of his name.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged, uneven breathing between you as you both come down from the high. Logan collapses on the bed, arms circling your waist to drag you along with him. His cock stays inside of you, plugging you full of his come.

Your body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Logan is warm and grounding under you, soft and lax. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your cheek, and you press a soft kiss to the skin there, a silent reminder.

His hand comes up to thread through your hair, his touch gentle now, his body relaxed in a way that it wasn’t before.

“I love you,” he whispers against the crown of your head, his voice soft, vulnerable in a way that makes your heartache.

You smile, soft and secretive in the valley of his pecs, “I love you too.”

It’s a quiet admission, the first time you’ve ever said that to each other with words. The first time you both felt the need to, because it’s nothing you didn’t already know.

Your blood dripping from his teeth lays the same claim over you as his come dripping down your thighs.

It means you're his, and he’s yours.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

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thebearer · 6 months ago

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please please please need a part two of the fight blurb 😭 what happens next 😭😭😭

should i make it into a full fic omg?? maybe?? lol

but on the real, i think that he would have to take a leave from the restaurant, which truthfully, everyone needed. this is just what broke him. the one time he actually tries to deal with his shit and not just blow up, get embarrassed, try to make it up, and repeat the cycle with no real change. i mean, you took his babies? anchovy and teddy. you're not returning his calls. richie, fak, and sweeps are alternating wellness check watches because they're terrified he's going to hurt himself, especially after the way he spiraled when he found your wedding ring.

he knows where you're at. he managed to become technologically savvy all of a sudden and figured out how to see your location, that you shared with him when you first started dating. fak wouldn't let him take his car. richie had put him on a full blown "psych ward type shit" lockdown until he "got his shit together, cousin".

"richie said-"

"-richie's a fuckin' moron, give me my fucking keys, fak!"

"carmen," fak frowns. "i-i can't."

so carmen walked. he walked to sugar and pete's house. nearly an hour walk through chicago. smoking so much he felt sick.

pete answered the door, face falling as soon as he saw carmen.

"carm, h-hey, man-"

"-where is she?" carmen wasn't interested on any sort of small talk, tunnel visioned to get to you.

"uh, i-i don't-"

"-pete, i really don't want you to fuck with me right now, alright." carmen took a deep breath, throat burning with tears. "i need to see- i-i need to see her pete." he couldn't bring himself to even say your name.

a tiny meow came from behind pete, anchovy skippering towards carmen with bright eyes, tail raised. it made carmen's jaw clench, tears blurring his vision. he knew you had to be close by. looking at the time, you were probably feeding teddy, maybe putting her down for a nap. he should have been more considerate, came later in the day, carmen thought.

pete looked at the cat, down the hall, then back at carmen. "carm..." pete hesitated, gripping the door, letting it shut gently, shielding something behind him. "you know i can't."

"what the fuck? pete that's- just let me in." anger surged through carmen's chest, trying to swallow it down. all he'd been was angry. angry and sick and distraught, a never ending cycle for weeks, just amplified by your leaving.

"you want to get her back? quit actin' like a goddam baby." richie sneered one night, just days ago, when carmen was especially awful and mean. "quit actin' like this isn't your fuckin' fault. like you didn't do this to yourself. take some fuckin' accountability, grow the fuck up, and get your motherfuckin' shit together. and maybe-maybe you'll get your family back."

carmen turned, running a hand over his face, trying to calm himself. keep himself from crying, from screaming, from pushing pete down and running back there so he could see you himself- throw himself at your feet and beg for forgiveness.

"pete, please? please?" carmen's voice wobbled, breaking gently. "please l-let me talk to her. just let me- let me tell her i'm sorry. don't-"

"-carmen?" sugar's voice came from behind pete. her face dropped, different than pete's, her's was angry. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"why do you think i'm here, natalie? huh?-"

"-oh, you've got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here." natalie sneered, pulling the door open and stepping out. "pete, go inside."

"nat-"

"-i got it." natalie hissed, eyes narrowing at carmen. she waited until pete left, shaking her head at him. "you should be fucking ashamed-"

"-i am-"

"-mortified." sugar continued. "do you know what i came home to the other night? i came home to pete taking care of your baby because your wife came here sobbing- sobbing, because you screamed at her? what the fuck is wrong with you? huh?"

"i don't know." carmen's voice was tight, fighting a tremble. "i-i don't fuckin' know. i didn't- i-i didn't mean-" a tear fell, the final crack in his demeanor. carmen wasn't sure how he had tears left, how he could sob anymore. yet here he was, on his sister's porch, tears flowing again.

sugar didn't comfort him, didn't move, just watched him through glaring eyes. "please let me s-see her. let me se-ee teddy, sugar, don't-don't keep my kid from me-"

"-i'm not keeping your kid from you." sugar snapped. "i didn't take teddy away. you know who did? you. you did carmen."

carmen flinched, he knew it was true but it still stung. "i know you don't remember dad very well, but you're acting just like him." sugar sneered.

"and before you try and come up with an excuse-"

"-i-i'm not-"

"-i want you to know, that every day. every single fucking day, there's days i want to drink myself to sleep. that mj or maggie make me want to pull my hair out and scream, or pete does something that infuriates me, but you know what i don't do?" sugar stepped towards carmen, arms still crosses. "i don't yell at them, i don't drink myself incoherent, i don't fucking act like mom or dad because i know how that felt." sugar jabbed a finger in her chest, eyes holding carmen's gaze intensely.

"i know how that fucked me up, i know how it fucked them up, how it fucked you and mikey up too- how it fucked everything in our fucking life up!" natalie laughed humorlessly. "and the last thing, the very last thing i would want, is to do that to pete, to my kids, to anyone."

carmen felt sick and yet eerily calm all at once. his chest was tight, he was sure he couldn't breathe, but he couldn't stop listening. a damning realization- a shameful one.

"you need to make up your mind, right here, right now, before you see anyone else." natalie stepped back towards the door. "you need to decide if you're going to continue to be a selfish piece of shit, or if you're going to change. and i can tell you, change is uncomfortable- it's not easy. you have to fight for it every single day. but i would rather do that than not have my family."

she looked down at carmen, twisting the knob. "you decide that, then maybe- maybe you can see them." carmen flinched at the door slamming behind her, not moving from his place on the porch, head in his hands.

fak showed up nearly an hour later, wide eyed and rambling about "how the fuck did you just leave? i was playing ball buster and-and then you're gone-"

carmen ignores him, sliding into the car slowly. "carmen?"

"you uh," carmen's voice is hoarse, staring straight ahead. "you said that, uh, that richie's got.... got someone for me to talk to?"

fak blinks, nodding slowly. "the therapist? yeah-"

"-take me there." carmen looks over at sugar's house. he isn't sure if it's his imagination or not, but for a moment he swears he can see you, peeking through the blinds.

"a-are you ok?" fak is worried, a little rattled at the sudden change. especially since carmen had been so adamant about not seeing "your stupid fuckin' therapist, richie, clearly she's no fuckin' good because look at you! you're still fucked up!" carmen's enraged words from days ago.

"no," carmen admits, throat swelling with a growing lump. "but, uh, i-i wanna be." he admits quietly, looking over at fak. "i gotta get my shit together, fak. i-i gotta be better for them."

fak doesn't deny it, doesn't console him. just goes quiet with a nod, driving away. carmen watches sugar's house disappear in the rearview, his heart aching, breaking, but he knows natalie is right. he knows he'll be back once he's better, that he has to be better. for teddy. for you. for your family.

#thebearer #bearblahs #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #dad!carmen berzatto #dad!carmen berzatto x mom!reader #pete the bear #richie jerimovich #natalie berzatto #sugar berzatto #neil fak #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x female!reader #dorothea “teddy” berzatto

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year ago

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If you haven't already, could you do something where ghost first meets f!reader? Like super cute love story, how it began maybe also how it's going? (can include smut if you're willing love a good smut lol) I'm so down bad for the cuteness overload because I'm waiting for my own Prince Charming 😩

It was a rainy, miserable day in Manchester, and Simon was growing increasingly bored. He'd been home from deployment for a few weeks now, and the pile of books he had waiting for him at home had long been read, leaving Simon with nothing to do.

Deciding against his better judgement, Simon left the comfortable anonymity of his home, and walked to the local bookstore located two blocks from his small English flat.

It was a spot he always visited when he was home from deployment. The little old lady who owned it was always so nice to Simon, and would always set aside books she knew he'd like.

"Hey Barb." Simon greeted in his gruff British accent, smiling at the woman behind the counter as he walked in.

"There he is, I was wondering when you'd come back home, solider. Got a few books set aside for you, but we've updated our inventory, why don't you take a look around?" Barb smiled warmly at him, gesturing to the abundance of shells laid sporadically throughout the small store.

Simon nodded politely to her, a small smile dancing on his lips as he made his way to one of the shelves. The shelf he always started with, Science Fiction.

The minute his eyes landed on it, he knew he had to have it. He'd been looking for a first edition "Dune" for a long, long time, and here it was just before him. He was so tunnel visioned, so solely focused on the book, he hadn't noticed a small hand reaching for it at the same time he was.

His hand grazed the other persons, and he quickly pulled himself from his daze, looking over and finding you, and Simon could’ve sworn his heart stopped right then and there. You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and the small giggle that emitted from your lips as he stared at you caused his cheeks to burn crimson.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't notice anyone else was here." Simon murmured, his voice coming out shaky. Damnit, what the hell was wrong with him?

"Don't worry about it. I didn't notice you were going for the same book.” You replied, your cheeks now as red as his.

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two of you, your eyes still lingering on one another’s, as you were both clearly flustered in the moment.

“Uh, go ahead and take the book, it’s yours.” Simon gestured to the shelf.

“No, no it’s really okay. I’ve read the damn thing at least a half dozen times, I don’t need another copy.” You insisted, taking a step away from the shelf.

Simon grabbed the book, and handed it to you with a smile, as he slowly found his confidence. “Please, take it.”

“If you insist..Have you read it before?” You asked, your head tilting slightly in curiosity. “I’ve not met a lot of people who’ve read it.”

“Not as much as you it seems, but I’ve read it a few times. It was my moms favorite book.” Simon said sheepishly, his mind wandering to thoughts of his mother. “It’s an amazing series, I just wish I had more time to read it.”

“Not enough free time?”

“Never enough free time.” Simon chuckled.

“If that’s not relatable, I don’t know what is. I’m a teacher, over at the university. It seems the only free time I get I’m grading papers, or I’m here with Barb looking at the new books she puts out. I’m Y/N, by the way. I’ve not seen you around before.”

“Simon. I don’t come here terribly often. I'm on leave at the moment and I’m due for a book restock. Teacher huh? What do you teach?” He replied, his eyes drifting back towards yours.

“English, funny enough. So you’re a soldier then?” You asked, your interest in the handsome man before you increasing.

“Something like that.” Simon said, his insides melting as he watched you watch him intensely. Simon wasn’t good at small talk, but he was trying his hardest for you. He didn’t want this conversation to end.

The two of you continued to talk for a few more minutes, the conversation ranging from the weather, to how long the both of you had been coming to this little book store, to your shared interest of science fiction.

“Well, I hate to break this up but I’ve got class in 20 minutes and my students will never let me hear the end of it if I’m late.” You said, not wanting the conversation to end. "It was really nice talking with you."

"Yeah, you too." Simon said, his confidence wavering slightly as he failed to come up with anything else to say. He desperately wanted to ask you for number, but didn't have the nerve to do so.

"I'll ask one more time, are you sure you don't mind?" You asked, holding up the book in your hand. " I feel bad it's the only copy here."

"Of course." Simon nodded, scratching the back of his head nervously. "Besides, it's probably better off in your hands. I'd honestly never get around to reading it, so it'd be more of a table piece."

You nodded, flashing him a warm smile. "Well it was lovely meeting you, Simon. I really hope to see you around here soon."

"I'd like that." Simon agreed, watching as you walked to the front, the smile on his face not faltering in the slightest.

Simon continued to stroll amongst the shelves, nothing quite catching his eye as his thoughts drifted back to you. He regretted not getting your number, and letting his nerves get the better of him. He could only hope that he'd see you in here again. Perhaps he'd make a few more trips here before his next deployment.

He made his way back up to the desk, anxious to see what books Barb had set aside for him. She always knew just the right books for him.

"The woman that was just here left you this." Barb said, passing something to Simon, a knowing smile touching her lips. "Seems you've made quite the impression on our little English teacher."

Simon looked down at the counter, and saw the book he thought you'd left with, and found a small note attached to the front. 'Enjoy the table piece. If you’re interested, I’d love to discuss the book over a tea- Y/N' Simon felt his heart flutter as he re-read your note over and over, his eyes falling to your phone number, neatly written at the bottom of the note.

"Sounds to me like you've got yourself a date, young man." Barb said, meeting Simons eyes with a smile.

"I believe I do." Simon replied, fumbling to put your number in his phone. And he couldn't fucking wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Planning on making this a multi parter? Or just leaving as is- I've not decided yet.

#simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley mw2 #simon riley fluff #simon ghost x reader #ghost imagine

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sunflowersandsapphires · 3 months ago

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Congrats Sapph 👏 How about a Sunflower for Matt where Matt surprises Reader with a baked treat (store bought or homemade is up to you) after an awful, terrible, no good, very bad day?

Trudging towards your apartment door, your feet ached terribly. You’d been running around all day, mimicking a chicken with its head cut off no doubt, trying to meet your employer's impossible standards as you approached the end of the quarter. The stress of the month was palpable within your office, keeping you and your coworkers huddled in cubicles--ready to snap at any passing distractions.

You'd forgone many simple comforts in order to meet deadlines this week, which had steadily worsened your mood. Morning coffee with Matt. Slow, ambling walks to work, stopping for a pastry or a bagel from the corner deli. Even the pleasure of taking time to eat your lunch, rather than wolfing it down at your desk while tediously reviewing an Excel spreadsheet.

Your mornings were starting earlier than ever, forcing you to press a hasty kiss to Matt's cheek before you dashed into the dawn-lit city without him. Nights had become equally unsatisfying, tension at work leaving you so strung out you shoveled a slapped-together bowl of leftovers into your mouth before collapsing into bed before Matt even left the office.

Matt, always the loving boyfriend, hadn't complained once--instead leaving supportive messages on your phone and stocking the fridge with take out. Being forced to neglect your criminally compassionate partner was slowly breaking your heart.

A few more days and the madness would be over. The thought made you want to sob; the light at the end of the tunnel still seemed impossibly far away.

Sliding your rusted key into the lock, you unlatched the bolt and shouldered into the apartment. Toeing off your shoes, you inhaled shakily, tears building on your waterline. With dragging footsteps, you rounded the corner into your studio and gaped.

”What..the..fuck?“

The exasperated question meandered through the destroyed space as you stood staring at the mess. Your kitchen was in ruins. Flour and sugar coated your counters, used mixing bowls were strewn across every flat surface, and there was another pile of dishes in your sink. Eyes flitting around the room, you verified that you hadn't somehow broken into a neighbor's place.

As far as you knew, your place had been comfortably disheveled this morning. Chaotic but organized. What on earth had happened when you were at work? Had the pilsbury dough boy been murdered in your home?

Rage tangling with the confusion in your chest, you stalked towards the mess, swiping a finger through the residue on your countertops. Before you could decide whether to laugh or cry at your own misfortune, the door opened, making you jump.

Down the hallway, bearing a bashful smile, was Matt.

”I am so sorry, sweetheart. I lost track of time.” Pacing over to you, Matt extended his arms, letting you fall against him. The paper bag in his left hand crinkled as he tightened the embrace. ”I will clean all of this up, I promise.“

”Um, what..what are you doing here?“ You settled on a less frustrated question, knowing Matt's explanation would probably wash your anger away.

”I was hoping to have a snack ready for you when you got home. You've been having such a tough few weeks, I wanted to do something for you. So I called your mom for that pumpkin cake recipe you like so much.“ One hand kneading your back, Matt unwrapped the parcel with his other hand. ”But your nutmeg was expired and I wanted it to be perfect so I--“

”You're making a pumpkin roll?“ You asked in surprise, your vision blurring with tears as your emotions overwhelmed you.

”I was trying!“ Matt chuckled, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”I'm so sorry about the mess. I didn't mean to stress you out.“

”You didn't.“ You sniffled, tears falling in earnest now. ”I mean, maybe at first, but I don't care about the dishes now. You're just...“

Reluctantly allowing Matt to step away from you, your eyes fluttered shut as he brushed the damp trails from your cheeks with his fingertips. ”I'm just what?“ Matt smirked, clearly holding back an affectionate laugh.

Diving back into his chest, you nuzzled his shoulder with a sigh. ”Perfect, Matt. You're perfect. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Why don't you go turn something on the TV while I finish in the kitchen?”

Nearly groaning at how heavenly Matt's suggestion sounded, you pecked his lips before pulling away. “Sit with me once it's in the oven?”

“Of course, love.” Pressing a final kiss to your forehead, Matt whisked off to finish what he'd started, leaving you to stare after him with a look of gratitude.

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jadeddangel · 9 months ago

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SORRY I DIDNT SEE THAT-

Rather than a smut could you make a platonic Carmilla x fem teen reader? The reader is a young overlord and is usually stoic and stuff, but breaks down and has a panic attack one day? Thank you and sorry for the last request!😅

Yea it's not a problem, if you ever want to request stuff I'm open and I'm ok with writing more suggestive things however.

Carmilla x Teen!Reader

"Sometimes walls break.."

Warnings: panic attack, talk of violence/death, possible ooc Carmilla

You had been an overlord for a little over 2 years. You had died when all the shit with covid. You really hadn't expected your death to expect you in the afterlife, but it did.. you still couldn't smell or taste certain things. Your body would still be shaky, and you would have really bad coughing fits, and you were always cold, but I guess that wouldn't be so bad in hell.

Here you were, you had come so far, learned not to show how you were hurting and how you were affected. You sat quietly on the other side of zestial watching velvette get all up in carmilla's face. You used the heels of your feet to push your chair back, making it scratch against the floor, making a loud noise. And suddenly, all eyes were on you, and you took a deep breath. "This meeting is going nowhere, so if you have nothing to share velvette, you can leave." You said sternly, your eyes narrowing in on velvette's figure.

Velvette let out a sharp breath through her nose and smirked, looking at you walking across the table and crouching in front of you. "Awwe you got something to hide like that old wench?" Velvette mused, raising an eyebrow. "I have nothing to hide and neither does she, now I won't repeat myself, if you have nothing to share, I highly suggest you leave the fucking meeting" you repeated leaning against the palm on your hands that were resting on the table. You stayed level-headed despite your thoughts becoming clouded with the anger of being accused.

Velvette let out a hum standing up. "Fine, you old hags are boring," she grumbled, walking out of the room. You calmly sat down. "Unless we have anything to share, I think this overlord meeting is over," you spoke up, looking at carmilla for support in your statement . Carmilla cleared her throat "yes I agree the next meeting will be the week after the extermination, be safe," carmilla said, dismissing everyone. Zestial stood from his seat putting his hand on carmilla's shoulder as everyone left, "we should talk thou needs seems..." zestial hesitated a bit, you stood up pushing your chair in carefully, "you're a bit pissy carmilla and something tells me velvette was correct about you knowing what happened to the angel." You spoke up "you and zestial can go ahead and talk about it I'll wait in here"

Soon, a week had passed, and it was extermination day. You had been dreading it and had chosen to stick with zestial and carmilla. You and zestial were sitting together drinking tea. You were quiet just sipping from your cup. Zestial looked up at you. "How doth the tea tastes? Doth it live up to thy colors?"(how does the tea taste? Does it live up to your standards?"). You looked up at zestial that was sitting across the table from you, you thought for a moment.. You couldn't really taste the tea, so you had to improvise. You remember him mentioning that it was an orange blend tea , "it has a nice citrus flavor," you said quite sure of yourself Zestial nodded, staying quiet, carmilla put a hand on your shoulder gently, "we need to talk.. about what velvette said.. about you hiding something, she stopped by with something. " carmilla spoke to you calmly. You could feel the anxiety coursing through your veins at those words, "Let's step aside, ok?" Carmilla said, grabbing your arm carefully. You nodded and set your tea cup down on the saucer quietly, your breath was shaky, your tongue felt like it was too big for your mouth, like your throat was swelling. You were getting tunnel vision as carmilla led you to her office, your feet were simply carring your body, you didn't feel like you were really there. Carmilla sat you down on her couch carefully. "Love, you need to breathe... you really need to breathe, " carmila said calmly, crouching down in front of you, rubbing your arms and gently trying to ground you, "tell me five things you can see.. ok?" Carmilla said carefully. You nod slowly, your mind taking a few minutes to compute with her words, "uhm.. you.... your desk.. the floor.. the couch.. " You looked around trying to find another object.. "The picture frame.." carmilla smiled and nodded."That's it.. and what color is the picture frame?" She asked sweetly, "it's black?" You asked suddenly confused, carmilla chuckled a bit "yea that's right.. are you feeling better?" You paused realizing she had forced you to calm down. "Yea.. yea I do..." you smiled at her a bit, "so uhm now I can ask this, what the fuck is covid?" Carmilla asked genuinely confused.

That extermination wasn't bad at all, you guys talked and she was really understanding, even after velvette shared how "weak" you were all over social media, carmilla almost opened a spot for a new member of the Vee's.

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frvnkcastles · 11 months ago

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hello my love!!! i was wondering if i could request a fic with a reader who finds it hard to accept affection (even though she loves and craves it), especially in public getting super embarrassed and thinking everyone is staring and judging because why would someone like FRANK be with someone like them??? but frank is just determined at all times to show how much he cares and knows to respect boundaries but also how to push back a little and open the reader up to accepting open affection more. idk if that makes sense? i'm sorry if it doesn't

WITH MY TUNNEL VISION ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You struggle with affection, but Frank is determined to give it to you.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, anxiety, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.3k

Author’s note: I loved this request so much and I was so worried about not doing it justice, but I tried my best!! I hope you like it :)

Even months after you and Frank had more or less officially started dating, you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. He saw himself as someone damaged and broken, but you thought he was the greatest man you had ever gotten to know, and admired him from inside out. He was caring and protective and no doubt easy on the eyes — and most days, you appreciated that wholeheartedly. Some days, you felt insecure. Full of doubt and wonder that he would choose to be with you, and that only heightened whenever you were out in public together.

So, when Curtis and his girlfriend invited you and Frank to a bar for a night out, you were stressed to say the least. You felt completely out of place, like you had no business being by Frank’s side, his arm casually over your shoulders as he laughed at whatever Curtis had just said.

”You okay?” Frank’s deep voice cut through the buzz in your head, and when he ducked down to brush his lips against your forehead, you instinctively dodged — and in an instant, guilt rushed into your system and you could physically feel the air getting awkward. ”Hey, what’s wrong?” Frank added with a frown, unsure where the hesitation was coming from. You had been fine before going out, not a single sign of being mad at him to be seen, and his kisses well-received.

”I’m gonna get another drink”, you evaded the question, and as you turned for the bar, you could feel their eyes on you. That was the feeling you had wanted to avoid — like you were being watched and judged, and here it was, anyway.

You weren’t by yourself for very long. As soon as you were seated by the bar, Frank was following and leaning against the counter to catch your wandering eyes. ”Sweetheart”, he grunted, tilting his head to meet your gaze, ”talk to me.”

Inhaling sharply, you glanced at him before returning your eyes to the bartender mixing your drink. ”You know what’s wrong”, you insisted, but when Frank just stared back at you, you sighed. ”It’s the… affection. Feels weird in public”, you explained further, and with realization dawning on his face, he slowly nodded.

Hell, he hadn’t been the most touchy person, either. But something about you had made it feel safe and secure again, like it was okay for him to be happy and show that to everyone else.

”Baby… ’m sorry, I… shit, yeah, I do remember you mentionin’ that”, he cleared his throat, watching you closely and aching to touch you. ”How come you don’t like it?” Frank wondered with a tone of sincerity, not trying to push your buttons but to understand you better — and as much as you wanted to be frustrated, you understood that.

”I dunno”, you shrugged, but you already knew he wasn’t going to take that for an answer. ”I guess I just feel like people will stare. And—and judge me”, you went on, and with an incredulous chuckle, Frank knitted his eyebrows together.

”Judge you?” he repeated with confusion, and nodding, you drew a generous sip from your drink.

”Yeah, you know, just… you’re… you. And I’m just me. And why would you choose to be with me, right? Everyone can see it. You could do so much better and I swear, if people see you kissing me, they’ll just wonder what you’re doing with me, wasting your time on me”, you rambled, and by the end of your rant, you were flustered and looking around to make sure you hadn’t been too loud. Even now, with Frank only inches away from you, you were sure eyes were on you.

Frank processed your words for a moment. ”Hey, you know that’s total bullshit, right?” he spoke finally, giving you a grave look, his curious smile long gone. ”If anything, people will wonder what a stunner like you is doing with an ugly mug like mine. And even if that were the case, I don’t really fuckin’ care what other people think. You’re my girl, and no one else matters”, he defended you, seething at the mere idea of someone looking at you wrong.

”Did ya see someone starin’? ’Cause you know I’ll fight ’em”, he changed his tone suddenly, glancing around to pinpoint any lurkers, but you quickly placed a calming hand on his forearm.

”I didn’t. It’s just my anxieties, that’s all”, you sighed in defeat, and taking in a breath, Frank turned back to you and nodded.

”And you know it’s all lies, right? Just your head tryna mess with my girl”, he pointed out, and as much as you wanted to justify your fears somehow, you couldn’t help but admit he was right.

”So, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna agree on a safeword that you can use if it gets too much. Until you say it, I’mma dote on you ’til you’re spoiled rotten, ’cause I wanna show you how much I goddamn admire you and I don’t really care who’s around to see”, he proposed, and with a smile curving your lips back up, you stared at him in disbelief — here he was proving yet again that he was everything.

”Deal.”

You tried your very best to tolerate the public displays of affection, because truthfully, you wanted them. You craved his touch and his attention, and behind closed doors, you were hungry for it. So you tried to extend the same courtesy out and about, pushing your own limits because deep down you knew he was right about other people not mattering.

And the greatest part was seeing how happy Frank was. You were the first serious relationship he had found himself in since Maria and it had taken him a long time to relearn how to be in one. But slowly, he had unraveled what worked for him and you, and discovered that he really, really wanted to show his girl off.

So whenever you were out, he made sure to hold your hand or have his arm around your shoulders. Every now and then he would lean in to kiss your forehead or cheek, sometimes even lips, and you were learning how to lean in instead of pull away.

A month later you were back at the same bar with Curt and his girlfriend, on a night when it was especially busy. Frank could tell you were nervous, but trusting in the progress you had made together, he kept you close to him.

”So, things are good?” Curtis queried while Frank was getting you a new drink, and with a beaming smile, you nodded.

”Things are great. He makes me really happy”, you chuckled sheepishly, and just in time, Frank appeared from behind you, handing over your drink.

”Who’s the lucky guy?” he grinned, and softly nudging him, you snorted.

And then, as if it was the most natural thing, you thanked him for the drink by giving him a kiss, and as soon as your lips left his, you could see the amazed stare in his eyes. Immediately, you realized what you had done, and you opened your mouth to say something, but panic washed over you and you were rendered speechless.

”No, no, baby, it’s okay. You did good. You did perfectly”, Frank breathed out, his eyes full of love as he leaned down to cup your cheeks and kiss your nose and jaw and forehead. ”No one’s lookin’, I promise. It’s just you and me, right?” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

You caught your breathing and managed a nod, and when you glanced at Curtis and found him preoccupied with his girlfriend, relief washed over you. ”Yeah, it’s okay”, you swallowed when you looked around, confirming that truly, no one cared. No one was judging.

”Love you”, Frank spoke quietly before leaving a kiss right next to your ear, and squeezing his hand, you dropped your head on his shoulder.

”Love you.”

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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miss-musings · 5 months ago

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"And We're Not Done Yet": How Omega Also Needed Crosshair in The Bad Batch Season 3

Both during and in the weeks after "The Bad Batch" Season 3 aired, a lot of people talked about how much Omega helped Crosshair grow and change during Season 3 (and the show in general).

I'm certainly one of those people, but I thought it might be time to talk about just how much Omega needed Crosshair in Season 3 as well. I know he generally supported her like his brothers did throughout the show, but let's focus on how she specifically and uniquely needed him throughout S3.

(NOTE: I already posted this as a thread on my Twitter — @catchingclassic. So, sorry for any repetition across platforms. But, if you already saw the Twitter thread, I am going to expand on a few points, because Tumblr is more conducive to that.)

So, let's talk about how Crosshair and their special bond helped Omega in "The Bad Batch" Season 3:

Initial Imprisonment on Tantiss

Let's go chronologically and start with our characters' five- or six-month imprisonment on Tantiss.

While Omega is a prisoner at the base, she basically only has four individuals she has neutral to positive interactions with on a daily basis: Nala Se, Emerie, Batcher and Crosshair.

While she spends the most time with Emerie and does seem to develop some bond with her -- as we find out from Emerie's comments in 3.14 -- she also doesn't fully trust Emerie. If she did, she would've clued Emerie into her escape plans in 3.03.

But, Crosshair is someone she KNEW she could trust.

Crosshair was essentially Omega's only comfort during her imprisonment (other than Batcher, I guess). She'd just lost Tech and been separated from Hunter, Wrecker and Echo. She clearly needed someone to support her mentally/emotionally.

We only see two conversations between them in 3.01, and in the first one, he doesn't offer her much in the way of comfort. But in the second one, it's clear that Crosshair is trying to keep Omega focused on escaping, even if it's without him.

Look, I'm not saying Crosshair's demeanor was great. I wish we could've seen him offering her more comfort and support (and maybe he did off-screen).

But, at minimum, she continued to interact with him on a regular basis and seemed to tell him all sorts of details about her day, her plans to escape, etc. And, again, Crosshair encouraged her as best as he could:

Crosshair: What is your primary objective? Omega: Escape. Crosshair: Then stop wasting time on lost causes. Forget the hound, forget me, and complete the mission.

In early 3.01, he doesn't believe escape is possible. But, by late 3.01, he's apparently realized that Omega does have a good chance of escaping, if she plays her cards right, so he's trying to keep her focused.

And, he's actually right. Omega could've left with Batcher at the end of 3.01, but as I'll talk about shortly, that wouldn't have gone very well.

I've been showing TBB to my sister and we recently started S3. She was surprised by the five-month time jump in 3.01 and by just how much Omega had changed. She'd lost hope. She'd become almost complacent about her new life on Tantiss. She doesn't acknowledge Crosshair in the hallway. She doesn't demand to leave anymore. She's just accepted this is her life now, to some degree.

Omega definitely still had some fight left in her, as we see when Batcher is threatened, but five months on Tantiss clearly diminished so much of the stubbornly optimistic person she used to be. She also seemed to tunnel-vision on Batcher and Crosshair, and so that's why Crosshair has to remind her exactly what her objective is.

Again, we don't get to see much of it, but it's clear that Crosshair was basically Omega's only real support system on Tantiss. She might've had some positive interactions with Nala Se and/or Emerie off-screen (although that doesn't seem likely), but Crosshair seemed to be the only person encouraging her and helping her toward an escape attempt.

Speaking of...

Escaping Tantiss, Round 1

Omega absolutely needed Crosshair's help to escape Tantiss, especially on the day and at the time she did.

Let's say she took Crosshair's words to heart and left with Batcher at the end of 3.01:

She's outside the base with no weapon and no datapad. Even if she happens to remember the abandoned shuttle, she has no way to find it other than just blindly running around the jungle.

(EDIT/UPDATE: I forgot the droid K9-X1 also had a datapad Omega could’ve taken after she used it to open Batcher’s chute in 3.01. Not sure if it had the same capabilities as Nala Se’s datapad, but I would guess so. The droid also had an electro baton she could’ve taken. Not exactly a blaster but it’d be better than nothing. 🤷‍♀️)

And, while Batcher would be some help against the jungle creatures, one lurca hound isn't going to do much.

It would probably take a while, but I’m sure the lurca hounds and/or the stormtroopers would find her. And even if she remembers Plan 72 herself, now she doesn't have another person (or a weapon) to help her execute it.

But, in 3.03, once she gets Crosshair out of the cell, he gives her the second blaster. Now, they're both armed. They get outside, and he suggests they "follow the flight path" to find the crashed shuttle. He also watches her back the whole time they're in the jungle, and when the stormtroopers find them, he suggests Plan 72 and acts as a distraction while she steals the shuttle.

I also love that moment when she seems to give up, but Crosshair doesn’t let her:

Crosshair: You got us this far, and we’re not done yet.

One small detail I appreciate: if you look really closely at his facial expression when she apologizes, he really goes 😟 to hear that Omega of all people has given up hope that they’ll actually escape.

In any case, Omega, Crosshair and even Batcher all needed to be there to escape Tantiss as they did. And even then, they probably wouldn't have gotten away safely without Emerie bringing Hemlock Omega's results to have him call off the V-Wings.

Navigating Lau

Once the group crash-lands on Lau, Crosshair proves crucial to their escape efforts there. We always focus on her contributions, but don't really talk about his.

Omega probably would've been at the crash site all day, freezing and trying to fix the shuttle, if Crosshair hadn't prompted her to leave. He locates the spaceport, and says they need to move before they're discovered.

Once there, he reassures Omega that the stormtroopers are a standard patrol presence and tells her they can't contact Hunter and Wrecker because the Empire monitors long-range comms. He then comes up with the plan to try to sneak about one of the shuttles at the spaceport, but it's too well-guarded.

This is where Omega then takes the lead: she tries to bribe the spaceport employee and then decides to get money by hustling people at the cantina.

The whole time, though, Crosshair is watching her back and tries to stand up for her against the Imperial officer and the street kid.

And, despite how much he dislikes it, he does follow Omega to the cargo docks and helps her free Batcher. During the shootout, he fights the troopers while she steals the ship. Just like on Tantiss, they wouldn't have gotten out of there without working together.

Finally, as they head to reunite with Hunter and Wrecker, Crosshair tries to prepare her for the possibility that they might not be there. We know he's wrong, but he was still looking out for her (even if it was probably just him projecting).

Crosshair's Knowledge of the Empire and Tantiss

Just like on Lau, Crosshair's knowledge about the Empire and its procedures, etc. proves crucial in TBB's larger fight against Tantiss.

Once he and Omega reunite with everyone in 3.05, Crosshair helps by sharing what information he does have (although it does take him a while because of his trauma).

He takes TBB to Barton IV to decrypt the datapad in 3.05; he tells Rex & co. about the CX operatives in 3.06; he volunteers to take on CX-2 twice in 3.07; and he initiates the plan to break Rampart out of prison in 3.12.

Obviously, I don't like that Crosshair stayed with the Empire and left his family in 1.16. But the unspoken truth is that, without Crosshair staying in the Empire as long as he did, TBB probably never would've found Tantiss.

It was so well-guarded that the only way they could've found it was to track a ship already going there, like CX-2's Dagger in 3.11 or the science vessel in 3.13.

Also, while Omega wasn't there, Crosshair's knowledge of Tantiss and the surrounding jungle was crucial to TBB infiltrating the base in 3.14 and 3.15 -- even though the CX operatives beat their asses and take them prisoner anyway.

We'll circle back to Tantiss, Round 2 later, but for now, let's refocus on mid-Season 3:

Recovering from Tantiss

Let's talk about Omega needing Crosshair during their downtime on Pabu.

While the show focuses on Crosshair recovering from his trauma, Omega was traumatized by her imprisonment too. And Crosshair is the only one who knows firsthand just how bad it was for her.

Her day-to-day routine on Tantiss clearly wasn't as brutal as his, but she was still separated from her family for months.

As she tells Emerie in 3.03, it reminded her of being trapped on Kamino; and as we know from Season 1, that's where Omega was initially traumatized.

In mid-Season 3, she's so focused on going back for the other clone prisoners, but it's clear from several looks and remarks in 3.05 and 3.06 that she's still processing everything that happened to her there.

Throughout Season 3, we get several scenes of Crosshair being worried about her, checking on her and trying to keep her safe. We also get at least two scenes where he affirms just how bad Omega's suffering was:

Emerie in 3.03: "You should go back to your room." Crosshair: "You mean her CELL."

This exchange was short, but I love that Crosshair refused to let Emerie gaslight Omega. (I know Emerie was essentially a prisoner too, so her gaslighting wasn't exactly intentional, but that's a story for another time.)

We also get The Argument in 3.05 where Crosshair holds Hunter accountable, albeit in a very mean-spirited way:

Crosshair: You let Omega be taken to Tantiss. She went through what she did because YOU failed. You're angry because she escaped with MY help, not yours.

Admittedly we don't get to see it, but I wouldn't be surprised if Omega's recap of her imprisonment in 3.05 glossed over just how bad it was for her.

Again, Crosshair knew firsthand just how much she suffered. So, he tries to look out for her as best as he can, whether that's physically or emotionally. (Admittedly, we could've gotten more scenes of this, but the show is focused more on Crosshair's post-Tantiss recovery rather than Omega's.)

In 3.08, Omega's focused on helping Crosshair start his healing journey. I'm sure it proved to be a decent distraction while inadvertently helping her start processing her own trauma too.

I mean, at the end of the episode, they're meditating TOGETHER. It's not like she showed him how to do it and then just watched him or walked away.

It might have been inadvertent, but by helping him heal, I also think Omega was starting her own healing journey too.

Family, Reconciliation and Hope

Another recurring thread in mid-Season 3 (and even into the finale) is how Crosshair's journey reaffirms Omega's belief in the power of love, hope and family.

We know from Season 1 that Omega always wanted to save Crosshair and bring him back to their family. Even though he leaves them willingly in 1.16, she still cared about him and in 2.15, she and the others pushed Hunter to do whatever necessary to save Crosshair.

But, especially after losing Tech in 2.16, I can imagine just how important saving Crosshair and restoring him to their family was for her.

As she says in 2.16 when Hemlock captures Hunter and Wrecker:

Omega: I already lost Tech. I'm not gonna lose them too.

From the way she pushes Crosshair to talk to Hunter at the beginning of 3.05, it's clear she's invested in seeing the brothers reconcile. And, based on her expression when she sees Wrecker hugging his brothers at the end of the episode, it must've been so comforting for her after everything she and their family went through -- especially losing Tech.

Additionally, throughout the show, Omega has always tried to believe in people's goodness, and appeal to their kindness and compassion.

With Cid (and others), she's proven wrong, and they ultimately take advantage of her.

But, Crosshair proved she's right to believe people CAN change -- that they can reject the darkness and choose light.

When the group is debating whether to let Omega train with Ventress in 3.09, Omega uses Crosshair as her prime example that "people can change" and that she's not naïve for wanting to give Ventress a chance despite her past crimes.

I think she ultimately learned that there's a balance: that yes, some people like Cid will take advantage of you; but that there are others like Crosshair and Ventress who are trying to be better and will come through for you if given the chance.

(ADDITION: While it took her a long time to come around, Emerie also ultimately makes the right decision to turn against Hemlock/the Empire and help free the Tantiss prisoners. Maybe after reuniting with Emerie in 3.12, Omega hoped her sister would come to her senses and help/join her, just like Crosshair did. I can’t say for certain, but it’s a thought.)

Returning to Tantiss

In 3.11, when the Empire attacks and invades Pabu, Omega feels guilty for seeing the island full of refugees suffer because of her.

She straight-up says as much to Hunter and Crosshair. And while Hunter tries to emphasize that it's not her fault, based on what she tells Crosshair later in the episode, she still feels guilty:

Omega: Look at what they've already done. I can't let the people here suffer more because of me.

And, in 3.12, when Crosshair justifies letting Omega surrender herself, he affirms her sacrifice for the people of Pabu:

Crosshair: The Empire would've destroyed this whole town. She stopped them.

You can argue that Crosshair made a bad decision by letting Omega surrender, but I personally feel like they had no choice, especially if they wanted to minimize the suffering on Pabu. They couldn't hide; they couldn't fight; and they tried to run but failed.

I've wondered before if Hunter had been in Crosshair's shoes in 3.11, whether he would've let Omega go. I honestly don't know if he would've. Crosshair himself was so reluctant, and I imagine Hunter would've been just as bad or worse.

We've all talked before about how much Crosshair was afraid of going back to Tantiss, but we tend to overlook Omega's fear because of how brave and determined she is in 3.11. When CX-2 is taking her back to Tantiss, the way Omega breathes when she's on the ship is reminiscent of meditation breathing. I imagine she was trying to collect herself before facing Tantiss again.

I think she was afraid to go back, but she was more concerned about the people of Pabu and the prisoners on Tantiss, so she was trying to make the best of a bad situation.

But, despite all her fears and his own, Crosshair supported her decision and then tried his best to track her ship. And while he ultimately failed, I'm sure the thought that he was there for her -- physically and emotionally watching her back -- helped Omega make that choice and face it as bravely as she could.

(ADDITION: Right before she boards CX-2’s ship, there’s a moment where she turns around and looks back at Pabu. Was she looking for Crosshair specifically, or Hunter or someone else familiar, or just looking back in general? I’m not sure.)

Escaping Tantiss, Round 2 (AKA The Shot)

So, Crosshair helps his brothers infiltrate Tantiss.

They get captured by the CX operatives and taken to the training room/CX lab. Echo, Omega and the clone prisoners work together to fight the CX operatives and save TBB.

After Crosshair saves Hunter from CX-2, he affirms he's going with Hunter to find and save Omega.

It's honestly a really good thing he did, because without Crosshair on that bridge, that scene plays out very differently.

Hunter probably could've taken out CX-2's Dagger and Scorch by himself, but with Hemlock holding Omega at gunpoint, I think Hunter might've actually put his blaster down when Hemlock threatened her.

It'd be in-character for him, as he surrendered when Hemlock's commandos had Wrecker at gunpoint in 2.16. Admittedly, he was vastly outnumbered, which is a big factor. But, if Hunter is on that bridge by himself, he and Hemlock are basically in a standoff.

With Crosshair with him, though, the brothers have Hemlock outnumbered and outgunned. If Hemlock managed to shoot one of them, the other would take him down.

Additionally, either of them might’ve backed down if they had to navigate that situation alone. But together, they have each other for support. They're greater than the sum of their parts after all.

So, Hemlock has Omega at gunpoint and is using her as a human shield. The brothers take a knee on the bridge, and Hemlock decides to take Omega over to the edge, so if the brothers manage to shoot him, he and Omega will both fall to their deaths.

Omega signals them. Hunter catches it, but Crosshair apparently doesn't. So, Hunter tells him what to do.

And now we come to The Shot:

Let's say Hunter is out there alone and the scene plays out the exact same way. Omega signals him, he sees it, and she stabs Hemlock in the leg and lifts the binders so he can shoot them.

Could Hunter have made that shot?

Obviously, it's a TV show set in a science-fantasy universe. So, there's always a chance. Plus, Hunter is definitely a better shot than the average person, and in a high-stakes situation like that, I'm sure the adrenaline and his love for Omega would help (just as it does for Crosshair in-canon).

But, based on everything we've seen of Hunter's shooting abilities in the show, I'm going to say: No, he probably wouldn't have.

In 2.09, Tech shoots the vial of ipsium instead of Hunter or Wrecker because:

Tech: If the shot is not precise, it'll cause another cave-in.

If Hunter was a better shot than Tech, Tech would've had him take it. But, Tech was the best of the three, so he did it.

And, Crosshair -- as a sniper -- was the best shot in Clone Force 99. I mean, that was his whole thing. He’s a sharpshooter.

I know that Crosshair has basically everything stacked against him, and he still managed to do it. But, Hunter would've been facing many of the same disadvantages -- injuries; lighting and weather conditions; the distance, size and speed of the target, etc. And based on everything we've seen in the series, Hunter is a worse shot than Crosshair.

If Hunter knew he could make that shot himself, I think he would've taken it knowing Crosshair was missing his shooting hand. And, if Hunter only thought there was a chance he'd make it, he clearly didn't want to risk it. He deferred to Crosshair, because he knew Crosshair was the better shot of the two of them, even with all the disadvantages they were facing.

No, it HAD to be Crosshair.

As I said, Crosshair needed to be there for Hunter and Omega.

He helped Hunter take out the Dagger and Scorch; he supported Hunter as Omega was being held at gunpoint and Hemlock told them to surrender; and he made The Shot to free Omega and then helped Hunter turn Hemlock into Swiss cheese.

That was the only way the three of them could've done it -- together.

Final Thoughts

Ultimately, as much as we understandably love to talk about Crosshair needing Omega to grow and change, Omega needed Crosshair too.

After losing Tech, she wanted so badly to escape with Crosshair and return to TBB so they could all be a family again.

He gave her support and encouragement during her darkest days.

He looked out for her as she processed her traumas and never let others diminish her suffering.

He supported her decision to protect Pabu by surrendering herself, despite her fears and his own.

He showed her that change was possible and that healing is a journey -- one they started together.

And then he helped his brothers rescue her and the others from Tantiss, and ultimately saved her life.

Plus, as we hear about in the epilogue, Crosshair helped his brothers raise Omega for ~10 happy years on Pabu.

Omega needed Crosshair in Season 3 just as much as he needed her.

She needed ALL five of her brothers/dads to become the kind and capable person we meet in the epilogue.

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gojos-fr-bae · 4 months ago

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The Altar Alternate Ending

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Warnings: Itty Bitty Angsty but There's light at the end of the tunnel this time. Cussing and heavy emotions as well so proceed with caution

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: Surprise Surprise. SURPRISE SURPRISEEEE. Ok so I wrote the original with a sad ending but honestly I can't bear it. I wanted write a part two were the had a happy ending (well not really happy, but hopeful that it will get better) but I just wrote this so you guys can have both options for those who prefer a happy ending aka me😤😤 If you haven't read the first version, You realy don't need to, but feel free😉 Also, I'm so sorry for being gone for so long, I have been hella sick the past two months I couldn't write, better now tho so yay😌😌

(Requests Open)

Today was the day. Your wedding day. The day you had been dreaming of since you found out what weddings were. As much as you knew that weddings technically weren’t a necessity, you wanted the whole world to know that you were marrying the love of your life. But the more you sat in your dressing room in your elegant white dress, looking up at the clock as seconds ticked by terror and dread began to sink in.

It was an hour since you were meant to be called out to walk down the aisle and you couldn’t take it anymore. You burst open the double door and ran halfway up the parted crowd of people before you noticed how everyone was looking up at you in pity.

Your breathing began to pick up and you began to feel dizzy, turning around and being met with his best man, Suguru, looking at you, face coated with pity and anger.

“I’m so, sorry Y/N” he whispered.

“Suguru what the hell is going on”

He just looked down at his feet, apologizing again In an almost inaudible tone, fists gripped around his phone so tightly they were shaking.

“SUGURU WHERE THE FUCK IS HE!” you shouted no longer caring about all your family and friends looking at you with worry.

“A mission came up in Tokyo and he said he’d be quick but-” You didn’t hear the rest of his sentence as your ears began ringing, and tears began to cloud your vision. Sobs wreaked through your body as you ran away. Ran away from Suguru, your parents, and the altar.

You ran from it all, and you never turned back.

“Y/N! Y/N PLEASE! MY LOVE WHERE ARE YOU!! PLEASE!!”

You heard your now ex-fiancé shouting at the top of his lungs, stumbling his way around the apartment frantically looking for you. His heart stopped as he looked down at you, no longer wearing your stunning wedding dress nor your engagement ring which sat on the ground next to the suitcase you were frantically packing.

“Y/N STOP! SWEETHEART WHAT’S GOING ON!” he sobbed, running towards you and desperately trying to pull you away from the suitcase but you were too heartbroken and angry to be stopped.

“My love please! Don’t do this! I’m sorry!”

“Sorry!? FUCKING SORRY?! THAT’S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF AFTER FUCKING ABONDONING ME ON OUR WEDDING DAY YOU JACKASS?!” You screamed, slapping him clean across the face, but he seemed completely unfazed as he picked up your engagement ring before trying to pull you into his arms as you zipped up your suitcase.

“Y/N please, stop! Let's talk about th-”

“No! I’m done fucking talking Satoru!,You always do this!, missing a date or anniversary I can forgive! BUT OUR FUCKING WEDDING DAY!?!? I CAN’T FUCKING DO THIS ANYMORE! YOU ALWAYS DO THIS, ALWAYS BREAK MY HEART AND I FORGIVE YOU OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND I'M TIRED! I’m so fucking tired Satoru. I can’t- I just, can’t. I’m sorry.”

You ran to the front door and tried to reach for the door but Satoru squeezed himself between you and said door. His back was pressed to it with one of his hands back to clutch the handle, preventing you from leaving.(Imagine that one scene from the kdrama My name where the dad is trying to stop the killer)

“Satoru please move” you begged, voice cracking as you pleaded with him. You no longer had the energy to shout and fight anymore. You were mentally, emotionally, and physically fatigued. All you wanted to do was to collapse onto your knees and sob till you had no tears left to cry. But you knew you couldn’t stay. No longer could you force yourself to be in a relationship where you were no more than an afterthought.

“Baby p-please, please don’t-don’t leave. I promise I can fix this, please. You can punch me, kick me, stab me a thousand times. Rip me apart if you need to j-j-just don’t leave.” He begged, Tears streaming endlessly down his face. His entire body was shaking as he tried to convince you not to leave.

The weight on your shoulders finally became too much to bear as you fell to the ground and began to cry painfully. Satoru knelt down before you and wrapped his hands around you. Together, you spent the better of 6 hours in shambles, finally letting all the emotions out at all once.

***

You two were still sitting on the floor, breaths finally steady. Satoru still had his arms around you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. Neither of you had the energy to even stand up, as you both basked in the silence.

“They were gonna kill you,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. If the room hadn’t been so quiet, you likely wouldn’t have heard him.

You pulled away from him, despite his attempts to prevent it. You tried to meet his eyes but he had his eyes trained on the ground.

“What?” you questioned, thinking you just heard your own things.

“They wanted to kill you…the higher ups…they were going to kill you.” he repeated, tone pained and somber.

“Satoru, what on Earth are you talking about?” you pressed trying to understand what on earth he was on about.

He finally raised his eyes to meet yours. Your chest tightened as you saw all the pain he held behind them.

“The higher ups didn’t want me to marry you. They had even planned for me to marry some zen’in girl. They told me that if I married you, they would kill you. At first I thought they were bluffing. They couldn’t possibly try to kill you under my watch, buta few weeks ago, while I was on a mission, they sent a curse-user after you. By the time I got back, It was almost too late. If I had gotten there even a second later I-I-” he choked up, stopping to take a deep breath before he continued.

“I knew that they wouldn’t give up until you were gone, so I went to try talk them out of it-”

“And that’s why you ditched me at the altar?”

“I s-swear I didn’t mean to! I went yesterday and they sealed me in some prison realm thing. I barely even managed to escape! By the time I did get out, got dressed and reached the venue-”

“I was already gone?” you whispered, looking up at him., suddenly feeling slightly shitty.

He nodded slowly before speaking up again “P-Please don’t blame yourself" he quickly said, before pulling you back into his arms,”Everything you said was true. I have been a horrible partner and I don’t deserve to have you as my fiancé, let alone my wife, but please don’t leave. I’m so so so sorry for ruining our special day but I mean It when I say I would rather cease living then have to spend the rest of my life without you by my side. Please, my love. Please”

You were at a loss for words at what had just transpired. Of Course you didn’t wanna leave him, you LOVE him. But at what cost?

Finally, can restt. Also, for anyone that previously asked to be on the taglist, I got mixed between you and the tags for Liar so if you still want to be on the taglist pls lmk.

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sunsetsimon · 11 months ago

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i’ve been lurking through your page for the past few days and i’m screaming, crying, kicking my feet at simon. ANYWAYS— i’ve had a scary interaction yesterday evening when i parked my car and a guy opened my door when i was gathering my things from the passenger seat.

i screamed, which made him flinch and i was able to close the door and lock myself in. he banged my window and kept on trying to talk to me until he finally left.

i had a full blown panic attack and it took my 20 minutes to gather enough courage to get out and run home.

what’s scarier is that i am four months along w/ my bsf’s baby (USE PROTECTION KIDS, ONE SILLY MISTAKE AND YOU LOSE YOUR BSF AND FEEL LIKE A WHALE) and i don’t have anyone to call/reach so…… now… i can only think of reader experiencing this, but being able to call simon and him just comforting her afterwards and coming to save her <3 ugh i need a simon in my life hahahah

anyways—— sorry if this was weird and a strange word vomit too, feel free to ignore!! stay safe 🫶🏼

— momanon 🧞‍♀️

HOLY FUCKING SHIT. i'm so glad you're okay ugh that's terrifying!!! and i hope you have the happiest and healthiest pregnancy ever <333 mwah!

simon is fucking fuming, he can't think of the last time he was this riled up, ready to split this guy down the middle. your hands are shaking as you call him, struggling to hold your phone up to your ear, voice trembling as you speak. the line goes silent, all you hear is quick shuffling of what you can only assume is simon grabbing his keys to come to you.

“what does he look like? which direction is he walking to? what is he wearing?” firing off question after question, picturing all the ways he can send this man to his maker. of course you’re shaken, thoughts twisted from pure shock and adrenaline.

“don’t fucking move,” he orders you, and you can hear the loud acceleration of his car, driving way over the speed limit, running stop signs, tunnel visioned on getting to you.

he’s there faster than you can really process, his energy completely different. simon’s demeanor is dark, intimidating, enough to pull you out of your shock. his eyes are scanning the parking lot, searching for anyone who fits the description of the man.

“are you okay?” he asks, opening your door to pull you into his arms.

he holds you against his chest, taking deep breaths to coax you into calming down, his chest rising and falling in tempo with yours. his warm hand rests on your tummy, rubbing lightly as if he was soothing the baby.

“yeah that was just… scary,” you say, observing the cars around you once more. it's you and simon, and a woman about your age walking down the rows of cars. keys and purse in hand, she quickly passes you and gets in a blue car parked a few spaces down. though she didn't give you a second glance, simon watched her like a hawk, brown eyes scanning for the man lurking around.

"m'never letting you go anywhere alone again. especially while carryin' my kid with you," he huffs as the woman shuts her car door, quickly backing out and leaving. you're gathering your things, filling your bag with everything that had spilled in your fright, flinging things around while locking the door.

simon guides you out of your car by your hand, holding his other arm out to help stabilize you if you need it. grabbing the bag from you, he kisses your forehead and walks on your heels the entire way. from then on, he keeps his promise of not allowing you to go anywhere alone, always by your side to protect you.

#ghost x reader #.wbm #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #momanon🧞‍♀️

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cosmal · 2 years ago

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scenario 16: “sender pushes receiver against a wall to kiss them” with sirius please

gin

valentines day celebration!

summary — sirius really is going to kiss you at this party tonight.

content — sirius black x fem!afab!reader, mentions of alcohol

You'd sent Sirius a photo of your outfit before you left. It was nothing promiscuous, it was sweet and innocent which he's sure made it worse. Sporting a red top that squeezed your waist until your top half sort of spilled out, and a white, frilly skirt that leaves enough room to show the soft plush of your thighs, and the message is this too much for mary's? :/ You were nervous — in an outfit like that. He'd sent back no sweetheart you look amazing.

He'd stared at the image on the train the entire way to Mary's. He's sure he's gonna kiss you tonight.

He knows you're around somewhere, you messaged him when you arrived. i'm here. lmk when you get here, i wanna see you. :) Bold, considering how you are when you're around him. Shy and all things sweet. It's a challenge to get a smile out of you when he's you're together. You hide them in the back of your hand most of the time. He hopes you're not drunk just yet.

All he wants to do is see you. When he shows up, it's like he has tunnel vision. He says hello to Remus and James, though it's short and sweet, he's not rude. Sorry, gotta get some booze into me. Code for, he has to find you right now while he still has the confidence.

He hears you before he sees you. He follows the sound of your giggles around the corner and into the hallway. You're standing outside the bathroom, talking to someone through the door.

"Y/N!" The skirt looks even better in person. Your cracked brick phone didn't do it justice.

"Sirius!" you cheer, walking the length of the hallway to meet him, leaving behind the poor soul in the bathroom. He didn't see the boots in the photo. He swallows.

You hug him first, which is different. He has the suspicion you're drunk. Confirmed when he selfishly pushes his face into your neck and can smell something like gin.

He pulls back and holds you at arm's length, the sleeves of your shirt bunch under his hands until he can feel your cold skin. "How much you had to drink?"

"I've had two," you smile. You're not hiccuping like you usually do when you've had one too many.

"Really?" he asks. You nod and it's adorable. "You smell like a bottle of Gordon's."

You laugh and tip your head back. Sirius tries really hard not to look at your neck and fails miserably. "Emmeline spilt her drink on my jacket."

"Oh, no," he says and he means it. "Is it ruined?"

"A little, but it's okay. She didn't mean to." You smile and wrap your fingers around his wrists. You turn your head to place a quick kiss against his skin, leaving behind a light pink lipstick mark over one of his green veins.

He startles because you've never done that before but he's not about to start complaining. "You're very happy tonight."

You turn back and then he catches that shy smile you're always doing around him. He thinks it's worse than a usual smile because your eyes droop, a crush of eyelashes that almost kiss your cheeks, and your nose twitches.

"I'm happy to see you," you admit and crane your neck so your cheek smooshes against his arm. You blink and look up at him and Sirius feels dizzy momentarily. "Super happy," you laugh.

"Why's that?" he asks and tries not to sound as affected by you as he feels. His heart a thundercloud in his chest.

"Because you're here," you admit and he can tell you're trying just as hard to sound casual. You lean off of him to look him in the eye. "You're here and I think you're gonna do something.''

Sirius swallows and suddenly he's nervous. He's never like this around you. He thinks he maybe should've taken a shot before he found you. Despite the fact he's a mess, he says, "Oh, yeah?" as smoothly as possible because he's Sirius Black.

You bite your lip and then look him up and down. Your eyes drag up the length of his neck and then stop at his lips. He thinks whatever you've drunk tonight was just enough to boost your confidence. he's selfishly loving it.

"I think you're gonna kiss me," you say in a tone lower than before. He thinks your eyes darken but that could be something he's imagining in his dizzy, lovesick head.

"Do you want me to?" His voice goes husky and you shiver. He almost laughs. He's still got one over you.

"Are you serious?"

You slam your eyes shut as soon as you say it.

"As a matter of fact—"

"Sirius, don't—"

"I am."

You roll your eyes. "God, shut up and kiss me, Black."

Sirius doesn't have to be asked twice. He grabs a hold of the sides of your face, fingers parted over your ears to guide your face to his. There's heavy breathing, lips smacking, and the tiniest of a whine on your part and Sirius melts into you. He's not as rough as he usually Is — as rough as he wants to be. But he pushes you back to hold you against the wall, keeping his lips planted against yours.

Selfishly, he lets one of his hands roam down to your hip and gives it a squeeze. You jolt and pull away from him, gasping sharply. He misses your mouth sorely and shows it, chasing you momentarily with his eyes closed.

You giggle and murmur, "Fuck," quietly under your breath.

"Fuck," he agrees, panting because he can't help it.

You kiss him again and ignore whoever it is you share the hallway with. This time, when he's not so caught up in the feeling of your hips against his and the sounds you're making, he tastes you. Something like gin and cordial. It's addictive.

He pulls back suddenly and says, "Wait, how'd you know I was gonna kiss you tonight?"

"I didn't."

He ducks his head down and hides his face in your shoulder. "You're unbelievable."

"I know."

Sirius makes a mental note to write a letter of appreciation to Gordon's Gin.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x female reader #sirius black fanfic #sirius black imagine #sirius black fan fic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black drabble #sirius black blurb #marauder #marauders #the marauders #the marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #marauder x reader #sirius black fluff

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romanstheory · 6 months ago

Text

Empire a Roman Reigns One Shot

Warnings: smut, language, rough sex, roman x afab, choking

Word Count: 1,750

Three years, it's been three years since I've been deemed the face of this company. The first woman to ever hold that title, and I do not take it lightly. Three years being the face also means three years since the former... Roman Reigns has been around. He left after a string of losses, the most devastating being to Cody Rhodes, who I went on to defeat for the title. I'm one of one in this company, no other woman would even dream of doing what I do... what I have done. Rumors are circling that Roman is making a comeback, his bloodline has been falling apart since he left. Adding and subtracting members to try to make it all work, Solo has destroyed everything Roman built. Not my problem, but it's an interesting topic.

Another smackdown in another town I don't want to be in. Another arena full of people I would never associate with. My jaw ticks with what I can only assume is irritation as I sit in a chair getting my makeup done. "I'm sorry to bother you, but rumor has it Roman is returning.... Tonight" My assistant's voice soft and trembling as if I would grab her by the throat at the mention of his name. "Roman's return has nothing to do with me". My attempt at hiding my annoyance is pitiful, but she takes a long pause before continuing "The other superstars are saying he's angry and wants everything back" Worried... She's worried.

"Well, he's going to have to fight the devil for it" a smirk creeps on my lips "Or... Lady death I should say". Lady death is the nickname the fans have given to me. I can only assume it's because of the way I leave my opponent lifeless in the ring. Maybe it's the lack of emotion on my face. At the end of the day nobody can deny that I am the machine behind this company, everyone watches to see me. To see the enigma that is Lady Death. "If he shows his face, he'll be seeing mine" Finally I add.

The night carries on as normal, no sign of him. Rumors swirl all the time, Roman seems to be the main topic recently. Solo's music sounds, likely another piss poor attempt at salvaging the bloodline. I roll my eyes and continue watching the monitor. Boos pour in from the mouths of the crowd, so loud you can barely hear Solo. He brings the mic to his lips to speak when music blares... Familiar music. Roman Reigns music. Rage fills my body, my cheeks heat with anger... There he is. I could punch a damn hole in this monitor, but I need to watch what's next. Slowly he walks to the ring, so fucking slowly it makes me grit my teeth with hatred.

He begins addressing the fans, and then Solo before mentioning me. "I've heard a certain Lady Death or whatever the hell she's calling herself seems to think she's taken my seat. Seems to think she can be the head of the table" A cackle escapes him. "You think you can sit at the same table as me let alone the head? Do me a favor baby girl and stay in your place because the only place you have at my table is on my lap being a good girl". My fist flies for the monitor, cracking it before it falls to the ground. I storm for the curtain, Hunter attempts to stop me but my music is already playing. Rage, all I feel is rage. The music and screams from the crowd are muffled, I have tunnel vision on the tribal bitch that is Roman Reigns.

Snatching a mic from a nearby crew member I get into the ring, his eyes locked on me. "Watch what you say when you mention my fucking name" My voice laced with cool deadly rage. "Or what?" He cackles "What are you going to do to me?". I pause for a moment, choosing my words wisely "Ask Solo what I'm capable of" I've beaten him more times than I can count, bruising his ego in the process no doubt. "Let's not pretend that your empire hasn't been crumbling after you decided to go throw a bitch fit for three years" I continue "And let's also not pretend that I have anything less than hatred for you... Joe". He tried so hard to keep me from opportunities when he was around. Tried so so hard to keep me caged probably out of fear that I would become what I am now.... his biggest competition... or his biggest fear.

His eyes narrow as I speak, jaw clenching, hands opening and closing as if he was picturing choking me right here in the middle of the ring. Closer and closer I walk toward him until we're less than an inch apart. He's taller than me, bigger than me.... But so is every other male superstar I've dragged and beaten. I crane my neck to look him in the face, he gulps deeply, breathing unevenly. "Your empire is falling because you've left a jester to uphold it while you ran and pouted in a corner for three fucking years" I bark at him, my eyes cutting to Solo before going back to Roman. "My empire is just fucking fine" A piss poor rebuttal. "Cat got your tongue? Or am I making you.... uncomfortable" i've never been one to use my sexuality to get the upper hand or embarrass another person but this was... satisfying.

"You make me sick, now get out of my damn ring!" Roman barks, baking up a step before trying to conceal the bulge now present in his joggers. A smirk pulls the side of my mouth up, comical... he's comical. Solo steps forward, only to meet my hand extended to his face stopping him in his tracks "Do we need to revisit those times I handed you your ass?" The crows erupt in laughter, Roman hasn't stopped glaring at me. Satisfaction rips through me as I see that his bulge hasn't gone anywhere. "I'm head bitch around here, but if you play nice maybe I'll let you get that close to me again. If you're even more of a good boy then I'll let you sit at MY table" A cackle escapes me before I throw my mic at his feet and leave the ring.

Backstage empties as the rest of the talent returns to hotel rooms for the night before we head to the next godforsaken city. I swing my bag over my shoulder, releasing a deep sigh. A rewarding but lonely life this is. Slowly I walk toward the exit when a pair of hands grab my wrist, pulling me into a nearby hallway. "What the f-" I begin "Shut the fuck up!" A voice barks, Roman's voice. His hair is messy despite it being on a bun as if he's been pulling at it. His grip on my wrist is tight "Let me go Joe or I-". He presses me against the wall, his body pressed roughly against mine. My vagina heats with arousal, he smells so good. I guess the rage I felt earlier didn't allow me to smell it or even take him in completely. "I see you're still... Excited from earlier. Tell me, Joe do you like being this close to me?". A sirens smirk crosses my face, lust coating my eyes as I stare into his already dark eyes.

"God I hate you" He growls, pressing himself into me more, a groan bubbling in the back of his throat. "Oh honey, God isn't present in your thoughts at all" I continue to tease as his bulge grows against me. His hand releases mine before he roughly grips my jaw, forcing my head up. "You just don't know when to shut the fuck up do you?" He says through his teeth. "So make me" I whisper to him. roughly his lips crash into mine. Our lips meet sloppily, tongues weaving in and out. Soft nips on each others lips met by the iron tang of blood. Erratically we undress in the middle of this damned hallway, not caring if anyone is left to see. Our breathing is heavy and uneven with lust as he grabs me, pinning me against the wall. Throbbing, i'm throbbing for him to push his length inside of me.

His tongue traces along my nipple sending chills down my spine and wetness to my vagina. He softly nips it with his teeth, a light gasp escapes me. Quickly he pushes himself into me, I yelp loudly before moans replace the sound. Roman covers my mouth before smashing into me, I can't tell if it's passion or pure hatred that motivates him. Over and over again his length slams into me, my thick ass vibrating with the contact. If anyone is still here, they've already heard us by now. "You feel so fucking good" He groans "All I could think about was fucking you". His hands grip my ass hard enough to leave marks. "I know" I groan. "You're the fucking worst" He grumbles, still pounding in and out of me.

Putting me down and facing me against the wall, he slams back into me. Euphoria sets in and I forget where we are. Moans pour out of my mouth accompanied by loud swear words. Roman thrusts into me deeply, pushing further and further as if he's trying to see how far he can go. "Joe!" I scream "Fuck! Oh my god!" My climax is approaching quickly. His balls tighten as if his is nearby as well. Pulling me by my neck, he connects out bodies, his strokes long and deep this time. My knees threaten to give out soon, his hand tighten on my neck as he pushes further and further into me. "You're too sexy to be such a fucking bitch, but I will admit the bitchiness turns me on" Roman whispers into my ear before softly licking it. My vision blurs as my climax erupts seemingly at the same time as his. He quickly pushes me away before groaning loudly, releasing his load onto the floor beside us. The hall is now filled with our uneven panting and pathetic attempts at catching our breath. A devilish grin spreads across his face "Good girl" He coos as he dresses himself.

#roman reigns #wwe #the bloodline #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fic #solo sikoa #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction

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hellsfirekeepsyouwarm · 1 year ago

Text

I Swear To You

Frank Castle x Reader Requested:

Hello my lovely writer, I'm in great need of some protective care taking fluffy angsty Frank Castle fic. And so I was wondering if you are interested in my request =) please let me know what you think. Frank has a cute new neighbor. They ended up talking a lot, Frank even flirting with her, but doesn't have the guts to make a move. One evening she was on a date which went sideways. The creep drugged her. As she notices something is wrong she snuck out of the bar calling a taxi to go home as fast as she can. He manhandled her as he notices she waiting for a taxi but she makes it home... She barely made it to pay the driver as she stumbled to her door to out if it from her spiked drink, so she isn't able to open her door let alone find her key. She collapses at Sehr front door, lying in the Cola night (maybe she hit her head pretty badly when going down). Frank comes home and finds her in feoneof her door. She's hypothermic and he notices her weird state and knows instantly she was drugged. So he takes care of her and her wounds and tries to warm her up. He nurses her back the next days

I hope you like it and thanks for requesting, and sorry for pushing this out for too long.

TW: Mentions of dru-gs, mentions of SA, puking, a terrible man doing terrible things

Frank was a goner. The moment he spotted you at the end of the hallway, gently balancing on your high heels, dress hugging your curves perfectly, hair and makeup done like you were ready to walk the red carpet, he knew he messed up. He messed up when he let his facade fall, and let you see the real him. Or part of him. Nothing was out of place, he came back from work, catching your right opposite of his door, going to a walk, to get a coffee, to meet up with your friends. You greeted him just the same, but your smile was giddy, a little bit too wide for a regular day.

He was oblivious to a lot of things, but even he could see that you are going to a date. And the guy is pretty fucking lucky tonight. He could see you wanted to impress, and you already won, because he was fascinated. He took sneaky glances, tried to act casual when you eyes spotted him walking towards you, shoulders heavy with a long ass day behind him. You greeted him as usual, asked about his day as usual, but he just couldn't act like usual. He had to acknowledge how beautiful you looked, and he did just that. A compliment, then a hidden question to confirm his suspicion. Your hips swayed as you walked away from him, giggling at his compliment, dissepearing into the night.

He was in deep. Too deep.

You had a good time, the best since a while. He was charming, charismatic, a kind face with a killer smile. Smooth talk, lingering touches. He was literally perfection. He really was.

As the night progressed, your glass never emptied out fully, he made sure you had plenty to drink. You didn't think much of it, his glass was the same, always full, often smiling into the golden liquor that grazed his lips. You ate, but surely not enough for the amount of drinks you consumed. How much did you really drink? You couldn't recall when your vision started to feel so tunnel like, or how your head felt heavy like a brick strapped to it. The more you felt it, the often his smile faltered.

First you thought you were just tired, haven't ate enough, that's why you are being a lightweight now. But in the back of your mind something told you it wasn't that. You only drank wine, wine that most of the time brought the frizzy numbness to you and the giggles out from you, meanwhile right now, you feel like you drank an entire cupboard of alcohol.

He is closer now. Pulled his chair next to you sometime you don't remember happening, if you saw it, you already forgot it. His breath fanning you ear as he speaks to you, something along the lines of going home, having a good time, taking it somewhere more private.

You wonder if you can walk to the restroom, or even stand up on your feet. You never had to wonder. Alcohol never made you think you physically can't move your body as you want. Panic have settled in your bones, silently urging you to do something. Anything, just to get away from him. You felt his fingers grazing your thigh, pushing your dress higher with every stroke, his voice still murmuring into your ear, although you cannot understand what he's saying.

You excuse yourself, trying to mimic you half an hour ago self. Flirty and joyful, you try to laugh it off, telling him you have to freshen up, telling that you have to pee badly, giggling while admitting it. You must act good, because when you slip off the chair, his warmth doesn't follow, nor his voice. You heart is beating rapidly in your chest, probably the only thing that you can concentrate on to not fall face first to the ground.

You are so fucking hopeful you walk somewhat towards to restroom, so he doesn't realize you are figuring your way out of the place.

A cute face emreges in front of you, your body oddly colliding with the person, you hands flying up to steady yourself on their shoulder. You would be so embarrassed if you were sober. It's a waitress, asking you if you are alright, honest concern in her voice.

You mumble something out, praying it makes sense and she'll know what you need.

"You want to go home? Want us to call a taxi?" She asks with a comforting voice. "Do you need us to call someone?"

Frank's name comes to mind first, and you silently scold yourself for never asking for his number.

"Hmmm, no."

"Let us call a taxi, yeah love?" She says, gently pushing your body forward with her hands eloping you in a side hug. Everything is blurry, your vision only picking up bits and parts of the world around.

You were more than sure that he put something in your drink. If your body wasn't so numb, you would be an erratic mess right now. Your senses are limited, everything comes and goes like a dream. You are not even afraid what he had put in your drinks, you just want to get away from him far away enough so he cannot talk the sweet lady out of helping you. You momentarily feel the cold breeze outside before the early winter air hits you in full force, the cold easing your flaming skin.

"HEY, excuse me. Where are you taking her?" The hair stands up on your whole body from his voice. Sweet, hidden malicious. "No i won't take a step back, where are you taking my girlfriend? Honey look at me!"

You don't have anything in you to respond. You just want to go home.

"Sir you need to leave her alone."

Hushed voices follows movement, softly pushing and pulling you around. Where is your purse? Did you left there at the table? You have your phone and wallet in it, you'll need that.

"My purse, my phone.." You mumble, feeling your body lowered to a flat surface.

"It's in your hands love, take care." The lady says, her voice is distant. You squeeze your hand, feeling a tiny little strap in your palm confirming your fingers are locked on your bag. You barely feel the material on your skin.

"Where to?" Your eyes go wide with a new voice calling out. You are getting comfortable at the back of a taxi, an older man looking at you, waiting for an answer, the dim light up on the car's ceiling giving him a really bad angle.

You hear yourself telling him the address, the sound is like someone else and not you. The car goes smoothly, at least that's how you feel it, the seats smell funny, and the lights outside paints a weird image through the windows, your head's starts to spin as you can't comprehend your surrounding no more. You just wish the taxi driver is kind enough to lead you to your door.

You wished and you were so wrong. He calls out to you plenty of times before you manage to get out of the car, almost tripping over your own feet while doing so, trying to give him money for the ride.

And that's it, the car speeds off behind you, leaving you trembling on the sidewalk. Just a few steps right? That's all it takes to get to your apartment.

Your body sways with each drag of your legs, barely standing up. How you manage to get to your door? You don't know, probably will never know. But you eventually do, legs giving out right in front of it, landing on your knees with a sharp pain then ending up on your butt, the ice cold ground burning your skin where it connects.

Your body gives in to the drug in your system, turning the world to black.

He took a peaceful walk to the nearest diner, a place he and you are very fond of, often bumping to each other there, one of those times you said yourself how you love the oldschool vibe and the quiet there. Frank only grabbed a coffee to go, the couple of minute walk clearing his messy head, head that is filled to the brim with thoughts of you. It's rare to him, to have something else on his mind than his family or blood rage and revenge. It's refreshing and terrifying. When he left, you weren't home yet, almost two hours after you waved goodbye to him, and he started to feel restless. Two hour isn't too much for a first date? He wouldn't know, even back in the day he wasn't the guy who took girls to a date. His parents raised him old fashioned, but he usually liked the simpler things. Car rides, walks with deep talks, cheap picnic with soda and snacks. So what does he knows about fancy restaurant dates?

It's cold, too cold for the tiny dress you were dressed in, but he would take you home right? He would take you home, making sure you walk in your front door, seeing it close behind you before leaving. But that's him, and he knows for sure not every man thinks like that.

The coffee warming his palm, giving him some sort of comfort to his uneasiness, his eyes searching for the familiar door when he takes a turn to your street.

No lights up yet? Now he's worried. You might went home with him. It's possible, you are a beautiful grown woman, who probably knows very well what she wants. But his jaw clenches nevertheless at the thought. His eyes dart away in shame, knowing he has no right to be mad at you for having a good time.

His head snaps back so quick it hurts his neck, in the corner of his eyes a big dark spot in front if your door that wasn't there before. He blinks for a few times to make sure it's not just his brain tricking him into some illusions. His mind failed him before, showing him terrible things that weren't really there, but the rapid beating of his heart and the pounding in his head is a signal of the familiar danger he encountered so many times before. The type of feeling in his gut when he knows the worst is coming.

And nothing could have prepared him for your frozen body on the freezing ground. In your tiny dress, exposed skin sticking to the concrete, the contains of your purse scattered around.

His instinct kicks in with full force, his hands fumbling for a pulse under your skin. He checks your wrist and neck before pulling your numb body up to his embrace, without thinking twice about who might see him taking you into his apartment. God knows how did you end up there, and he's not risking it if your date shows up at your door, finishing what he had started.

Because why else would you be lying knocked out in front of your home, why couldn't you get in, why else would you loose consciousness if not because of a doing of a horrible piece of shit man?

He is a man on a mission. Something he felt ages ago, and now it's welcomed with a sense of purpose and a sharp sting in his heart.

You are terribly cold in his hands, and he has to hush the voice in his mind that tells him the worst possible outcome.

He rushes to his bed, putting you down on his sheets gently, fingers trembling as he pulls your damp dress off of you, at this point he can't bothered that you are nearly naked in his bed, this isn't how he imagined it. He rushes off, his boots heavy on the creaking wooden floor, looking for the warmest clothes he has in his mostly empty wardrobe. It's a hoodie and sweatpants he comes up with, the best he can offer.

He knows you'll be greatly embarrassed when you come to your senses, so when he removes your undergarments, he tries to do it as respectfully as it's possible. One clothing off and another on, your icy skin burning under his warm hands, the sensation leaving a bad taste in his mouth. A reminder that he has a bastard to find after you are recovered.

His mind is racing, the loud thump in his ears slowly quieting down as he checks for your pulse again, cursing himself that he doesn't have a damn thermometer. He should have called an ambulance, he thinks. But god knows how much time they need to get here, if they ever. He's being selfish. But you are in good hands, he wants to think you are okay with him.

He's greatful for his years in the military, now more than ever. When it comes to himself, he's tactical and precise but numb. Any wound he stitched up and treated is decent enough, but nothing more. His own discomfort and pain is a welcomed guest. But right now it's not his body that is in pain, and he's not allowed to be careless and emotionless. You are wrapped up in his bed, safe and sound, but it's nothing to soothe his nerves.

He grabs a towel from the bathroom, the exact same of the pretty set you gave to him a couple of weeks ago when you saw his own torn up one, insisting he needs it way more than your wardrobe where you kept it since buying them. He gently lifted your head from the soft pillow, neatly covering your damp hair in it, your soft breaths music to his ears, he leans closer, just to confirm you are breathing evenly.

He considers for moment before deciding to open your eyes with his fingertips, his suspicion is confirmed by your blown pupils, the color of your eyes barely visible from the blackness of it. He sighs, rage and anger coursing through his veins, tempting him to get up and find the fucker. It would be easy, so easy. But you need him more than he needs to ease the bloodlust.

Just now he realizes he is still in his coat, sweat glistening on his forehead, his body hot under the layers he should get rid of, dirty boots tainting the already year long stained flooring of his apartment.

He glances over to you, a last conformation you are okay before he himself changes from his street clothes.

He doesn't mean to overstep, but when he goes back to you, and you body is just as cold as when he found you outside, his mind is set. He carefully slips in to the bed, he himself isn't sure how he manages to get under you, he searches for the best way for his body to give off it's heat to you. So you are now trapped between his legs, back laying heavily on his abdomen, hair tickling his bare skin. It's more intimate Frank anticipated, but to be honest, he wasn't debating about it much before doing what his brain told him to do. He would change his mind about the position if he couldn't feel your body soaking up his warmth. It's satisfying, how you take unconsciously, and he's basking in the feeling of giving. It's been so long since he was able to serve gently, in a quiet manner. Like when he ruffled his son's hair, or put the school bag on his daughter back. Or how he played with a single strand of Maria's hair, putting it behind her ear.

So his hands pulls you closer, every part of you hugged by his body, giving and giving everything he has to offer.

Your head hurts. No, not hurts, splits into two, even more when your eyes open with a painful sharp feeling behind them. You would groan if your throat would let it slip past the desert that's inside. The rest in your bones mixing with various aches under your skin, and the comfort around isn't enough to reach your body. You are tempted to back to sleep, sure another hours wouldn't hurt, before you mind clears up, shaking the sleep out of you.

It hits you like a lightning. What day is it really? What day was yesterday?

You shot up, dizziness almost pulling you back down with a terrible feeling in your stomach. Before you could comprehend anything that's happening, something is held to your face where soon you empty out the contains of your stomach. A soothing hand appears on your back, trying to keep your hair there while you puke your literal life out. Sweet words reach your ears when your traumatized body calms a little bit down.

"You are alright, sweetheart." It's Frank's voice. "How you feelin'?"

Your grimace, disgust being the only thing you are feeling besides every ache of your body. "It's okay, darlin'. Just breath, let it out if you have to."

You look sideways, seeing him half naked, his body so close you can feel his warmth radiating towards your trembling body. He's concerned face is looking for something in yours, perhaps panic that why he is here with you, or the fact, that you aren't in your own room, or apartment, or why are you wearing his clothes that hangs on you loosely. There is an explanation for it, you know that, and you don't have the will or the energy to be panicked. Despite these thoughts, you heart beats out of your chest, hearing your blood rushing in your ears.

"What happened?" You ask. If you are with him, he's having all the answers. What is the last thing anyway that you remember? You getting ready? Was it yesterday? Your date. You don't remember your date. It's daytime right now, so it's surely passed.

Maybe it's too apparent on your face how you put together the pieces in your head, or he's just panicking at how you are starting to panic that you don't realize. Your shaking body is fumbling with the duvet around you, eyes snapping to Frank then to your surroundings, frantic with your every move. Like an animal cornered.

"Hey hey hey..You are alright! Look at me darling! Look at me." He forces you to look in his eyes, warm and safe, attention seeking. "You were drugged last night, but you are okay, you hear me? You'll have a hell of a day today, but it's gonna pass. Nothing happened, okay? He did nothing to you."

It's sincere. Everything he says he believes. How does he know?

"How..?"

"You know how, sweetheart. Let me get you some water okay? Get back in bed." He commands, leaving you on the side of the bed. So he is Frank Castle after all. You had you suspicion for a while, and you might asked too risque questions he caught on. How does this makes you feel? Kind of relieved, and grateful? You are grateful that your neighbor is a cold-blooded killer?

"There you go. Drink slowly, okay?" He murmurs, a black t-shirt now covering his upper body. You take careful sips, eyeing the man next to you without shame. He does the same, watching intently with so much comfort in his eyes.

"I don't remember anything." You voice is defeated, drained even without using it for hours now.

"I know, i'm sorry." Tears are threatening to fall as your mind tries to navigate the information that you have been drugged.

"What if he.."

"Nonononono, look at me! He did nothing to you. He put it in your wine, let you have too many drink, but he did no more than that!"

You nod. Accepting it. He's the Punisher after all.

He takes your hand in his, planting a faint kiss on top on your knuckles. "You are safe, i swear to you."

You are safe with him.

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