#also this is the first time that you've sent it to me just to let you know so you're good haha

[sempiternalmuze]

Running Through the Halls of Your Haunted Home

Jack Abbott x doctor!Reader who has some problems being loved

tags: dr. jack abbott x female!reader, hurt comfort, reader runs away for a bit (story takes place when shes back), Robby being Jacks best friend, age/jobs not really established, implied not great childhood for reader, jack loves her ohmygod??, jack would never leave her tbh, a bit more flowery than i'm used to writing so let me know, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2.3k

Five months. That was the timeframe Robby had laid out for you when you'd came to him a few days after Christmas, explaining that you needed a break, need time away from the Pitt, the city, the state. He'd been kind enough to not ask too many questions, but you knew he'd hear it sooner than later directly from Jack during one of their therapy sessions.

So three days after Christmas you packed your bag, grabbed your passport, and changed your number. From one day to the next you had gone from Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center to Portel, Brazil with Doctors Without Borders.

And you lived. You took the time you needed to find your peace again, to pick up the pieces that you had left behind in the dusty apartment Jack and you had shared.

But now it was May-- and Robbie was calling your number every few days. And today when you answered he'd sounded at about wit's end.

"Time's up kid, we need you back here." He sighed, and you could almost see his hand running over his face, tired and no doubt thinking about a fourth—fifth—coffee.

You had stayed silent for a moment, playing with the sheet of your hammock. You glanced at the tents set up by the river, kids running around in a game of tag, parents watching from the sides as they spoke to the other doctors on your crew.

"What if I told you I liked it here more? Then what?" You said, glancing back at the water.

Robby lets out a throaty laugh, one that pulls you away and forces you back to the shuffle of the Pitt. "Because if you did, you would've just said that."

It's a valid point— and true. You wouldn't be asking, wouldn't be hoping he'd tell you any different. You probably would have blocked him, sent an email to Gloria and moved on with your life.

"And I also know what you've got waiting." He whispered. And he was right. You wouldn't just leave like that and not tell Jack. The only reason you had been able to do it the first time was because you knew it was temporary, and small fold in the story you two shared.

"How is he?" The weight was heavy on your shoulders, an invisible force that only left in the depths of night and that was if you were tired enough to fall asleep as soon as your head hit your pillow. Jack was strong, and smart. He'd been through so much worse than a girl who was afraid.

"Well...he visits the roof a lot more now. The first few weeks were...well they were real bad kid." He pauses, like considering what would be too much to tell you. "I offered him to come stay with me, get away from the apartment, but he said he liked it. It gave him a reason to hold on."

Reasons to hold, how very Jack Abbott of him. To want to have hope, to find the reasons even though he wasn't sure where any of it would lead.

"He'd doing better now, I don't have to act like a hostage negotiator too much these days. He comes out to the park with us after work and he makes jokes with the new med students. But he misses you, a lot."

You nodded with a hum into the phone. The sun was so peaceful this time of day, it bounced off the water and on to your skin. You let your eyes close and let your mind drift back to those months ago, from even before the fight, to when things were still solid between the two of you.

Walks in the park after a long shift, hands intertwined as he poked fun at you for your decisions during a shift. The nights spent in bed, room slightly too cold because otherwise you'd burn up with his body heat. Even on the days when it was hard, when his active duty days caught up to him, there was still something to have, because he'd let you hold him, let himself talk and talk about the people and the days of roughing it, of the bad things he saw, of the pain of a leg that was no longer attached to his physical being.

"Kid, I gotta let Gloria know by tonight. Are you back?" Robby's voice broke through the speaker with a crack of static.

"Of course I am Robby."

Now you were running through the airport, hair a mess, sanity hardly in tact. Cassie had been kind enough to come grab you after dropping off Harrison with Chad for the weekend. Today and tomorrow would be your days to get settled, then straight back to it on Monday.

"I've missed you so much!" She squealed, arms wrapped around your center tightly. "You have no idea how much it sucks to have to take on that waiting room with myself and Javadi." She laughs.

"Oh I bet, what would you ever do without me?" You laughed. You held her tight before you both crawled into the car. She started the engine, waving off some security yelling at her and took off.

"How was it?" She asks, face covered in excitement.

"It was amazing Cassie. The people, the pace, the location, all of it was just-perfect." You sigh and throw your head back. "I think it was exactly what I needed."

"That's great." She says. Her tone tells you that there's something else, something on her mind that she isn't saying out loud.

It takes about three minutes of uncomfortable silence and a red traffic light for her to turn to you. "Have you talked to him?"

Cassie was one of about four people who definitely knew what was going on between you and Jack, one of a few who knew lengths you'd go for one another. Her tone is soft, prodding but not overstepping.

"No, Cass I...I didn't want to do anything that might...I don't know, hurt more than it already would?" You sighed. You covered your face with your hands. "I felt horrible, for taking off on him the way I did. But I just...I knew that he'd make me stay."

Cass nods along, listening. She takes your hands in hers, holding it softly over the center console. She doesn't push or try to interject her own thoughts about the whole thing into your mind. She knows you well enough to know that no decision you made came lightly, that it took hours and hours of thought and careful planning.

The light turns green and the car starts moving again. "You don't have to go back so soon. You can stay with Harrison and I if you want to." Cass offers, a small glint in her eyes.

You take a moment to consider before looking out the window. "I need to go back Cass. To my home, to my stuff. I need to go back to him. I ran once but I'm ready. I finally feel ready to face what we left behind." You smile, hands gripping the door handle a bit too tight.

Cass nods and hums. "Just know I'm there. If you need me."

And that's what the conversation is left at. Fifteen minutes later your left staring at your building. Cass offered to go upstairs with you, but you'd elected to face it all yourself.

There were two options that stood in front of you. One, Jack was home, asleep, getting ready to head to bed and face another grueling night shift. The blackout curtains would be drawn and the apartment quiet. Would the floorboards remember your steps or creak under the unfamiliar weight of your long lost body? Maybe they would, and then they'd wake him, and you'd have to explain the last five months of your life to him while he was half asleep.

The other option was simple, he wasn't home, maybe getting groceries before he inevitably came home to crash out on the couch. It had irked you so much when you first started dating. The way he'd get off a few hours before you and offer to do the shopping, just for you to come home and find him asleep in the most neck sore position possible, jacket barely off, jeans twisted too tightly across his legs. But eventually it became a comfort, the way you could rouse him and make him follow you to bed, where you'd help him take off his prosthetic, rip off his scrubs in return for a clean shirt and pj pants. Or sometimes when you were both so tired after a rough day you could snuggle yourself between his arms, him hardly waking up, but still opening his strong arms so you could press against his chest.

And you find yourself hoping it can be like those distant couch sleeps. That he'll be there, asleep on the couch, and you can just lay with him, head pressed against his chest, snuggled right below his chin as his fingers splay over the middle of your back, gripping you as to not let you disappear again.

So when you turn your key into the lock, you take a deep breath. With the click sounding, you push the door open. You roll your suitcase in first, setting it to the side. Then you pause, listening. There's silence, and for a moment you think you're safe. The buzz of the AC when it clicks on startles you, but not as much as the man standing before you.

Jack stands near the couch, hand holding on to it, like he might fall over. He wears a tight black tee, some washed jeans and his tennis shoes. When you finally meet his eyes you see something, a glint of pain? Maybe sadness, maybe shock. His hair is slightly longer along the sides, his facial hair a bit more clean shaven than the stubble you had last seen him in. He doesn't move, neither do you. Its like the saddest cowboy stand off you've ever witnessed.

The click of the door behind you finally breaks the silence. You take a step forward, placing your keys down on the entry table. You can't tear your eyes from his. You wish you could read his face, know where to start on the long list of apologies and begging of forgiveness.

"I know you probably hate me. I know you maybe wish I would have never come back. And I know when I left we were in a bad position, a position that I never wanted to be at with you." Jack opens his mouth to say something, but you're quick to silence him with a raise of your hand.

"But I'm here. I'm here because I love you. Because I never wanted to leave in the first place. And you are the first stable thing I've had in my life since med school." A sudden hiccup burst from you, followed by tears. You couldn't stop it. In an instant your face was crumpled, warm, tears spilling from your eyes.

"Sweetheart..." Jack mutters, marching towards you until his arms swaddled your frame, arms pressing tight around your ribs, fingers grasping at your hair. His face pressed deeply against the crown of your head, and his chest pressed perfectly against your ear until you could hear the thumping of his heart.

"Jack Abbott you— God you fucking took my life and put it back together in ways I didnt think possible. You showed me that I could be loved. I was worthy of love and attention."

You pulled away, Jack's arms still resting across your waist, fingers digging in, as though fully releasing you would mean you walking out the front door forever this time.

"And I ran. I ran because I was so fucking scared that you'd wake up and decide that I wasn't worthy, that you didn't need to be here. And I wouldn't be able to handle that." You glanced at him, and while your vision remained slightly blurred, you found that he was already looking back at you. For a moment you thought pity might be the thing coursing through his dark eyes, but you realized it wasn't even close. It was more like concern, fear.

"I picked that fight because I thought it was the only way to get you to leave. But you didn't. You refused to leave, to give in. And that made me mad." You laugh, wiping your face. Jack cracks a smile, followed by a small chuckle of his own.

"You made me mad because instead of doing what everyone else has done, you planted your feet. And that made me the most scared." You said, staring down at the ground. Jack gave you a moment to collect yourself, and when it seemed your breathing had finally calmed a bit, he took your hands in his, fingers intertwining with his own, his calloused palms pushing against yours.

"I planted my feet because I knew exactly what you were doing." He says, soft, speaking more into your hair than into the open space around you two.

"It was a stupid battle, and you're not stupid, so of course I knew what you were doing. Because I know you, sweetheart." he chuckles a little, the sound vibrating in his throat. "And more importantly, I planted my feet because I wanted to stay. You have never ever been anything short of the most beautiful, loving, smartest, strongest woman in my life. You are the best thing I've had in years." He sighed, his hand lefts yours as it moved up your arm, until it fell onto your jaw, guiding your eyes to his.

"And you put me back together. And I love you for that." He finishes. Neither of you two move, letting each others words swell around your embrace.

Your eyes drop to his lips, soft and kind. He doesn't hesitate, pulling you against him, letting your lips grace each others for the first time in months. You sigh, pressing your body against his. He holds you close as you two drink each other in.

Eventually he pulls away, rests his forehead against yours.

"I've missed you."

ϟ.·:¨༺ ♡ ༻¨:·.ϟ

[mad-hunts]

☎ did I send this already? Can’t remember 🎵

phone contact meme!

contact name: my beautiful but scary sibling 🩷

contact picture:

(him setting their profile picture as keyboard cat both because that cat is epic and also musically inclined just made too much sense to me to not do it, so LOL here we have sibyl being represented by keyboard cat!)

ringtone: home to me — devil and the deep blue sea (the line 'and a voice like your father's tells you nothing good's for free. well that may be, but you're walking home to me' was what really solidified this song as the one that barton would use for them for me AHH)

social medias that barton is following sibyl on: X (twitter) and tiktok (yes... he has a tiktok, but barton follows very little people on it BC he doesn't want anyone to know he actually has one lol)

the most recent phone call between our muses, and how long it was: the most recent phone call between barton and sibyl was one he made towards them in which he told them a few days before it was being hosted, that there was a jazz festival being hosted in blüdhaven and he was wondering whether they wanted to go with him.

because he had bought a spare ticket for them BUT he had to muster up the courage to actually invite sibyl there with him. and this is because during their last meeting, he got the impression that he did something to offend them, but they weren't mad at all so everything turned out okay <33 the call also lasted for close to 30 minutes.

the three most recently sent messages from my muse to yours:

1.' so... i need your opinion on something, sibyl. do you think that i look washed out when i wear yellow?' 2. 'yes, you can be honest! i'm asking you because i know that you're the least likely person to lie to me about a thing like this, in fact. you won't hurt my feelings or anything but i need reassurance that this jerkoff that i went on a date with today is wrong about me looking bad in yellow.' 3. 'ahh, okay! thank you. see, i knew that this man was probably just salty that i didn't want to go back to his place after the first fucking date we had together. like i thought that was odd personally so i said no, but he must've thought that i was looking to hookup or something because he asked me 'why not' afterwards, and made it into this... whole thing for some reason. then came the insult and so i paid for my part of the bill then said BYE! because i do not deserve to be treated like that.'

[sonrium]

DP X DC: A Minor Drinking Problem

Phantom is a relatively new member of the JLA, but it's been a few months, and things are settling in well. He's shy and polite but is a master of the snark with villains.

Before a big mission, the all hands on deck kind, everyone is talking about scars and the crazy stories behind them to distract from the coming fight. Danny, finally feeling like he can join in the conversation with all these adult heroes, pulls off his right glove to show a pretty gnarly scar on the back of his wrist. “I got this one when I fought a guy from the Revolutionary War a few weeks ago! Didn't think he'd charge me with a bayonet.” He shares a couple more stories and scars, but only the ones that he can easily show off.

Because of stories like that and some historical depictions of Phantom from different time periods, they think he's this ancient and powerful immortal that just looks like a teenager, it wouldnt be the first time. He's powerful enough to go toe to toe with Superman, so there's no way he's actually a kid. He even sometimes has the haunted, world weary eyes that their most hardened members only get after experiencing too much. Danny, being our lovable, obliviously dense idiot, has not realized that they think he's an ancient being.

After the mission concludes -it was a rough one-, the JLA celebrate their victory with a couple drinks back at the watch tower. Danny is understandably uncomfortable with this whole situation and keeps asking, “Are you sure I should be here?” They reassure him it's fine as they pass around beers, which Danny politely declines several times. Danny eventually sees this as the perfect chance to pad his blackmail folders on his inebriated coworkers.

Anyway, as the night goes on, they have a good time, but Phantom still hasn't gotten a drink like the rest of them, and Green Lantern (or hero of your choice) really wants their shy friend to come out of his shell. So, he slams an open beer bottle on the coffee table in front of Phantom. “Come on Phantom! Let loose a little. Celebrate!”

“Dude! What the hell?! I'm 16! That's illegal!” Phantom squeaks in shock.

“We don't care how old you were when you died. It's how long you've been a ghost that counts.” Flash slings an arm around Danny's shoulders from where he’s sat next to him on the couch. Flash can't get drunk, but he also thinks it would be fun to see their uptight new member drunk.

“That's even worse! You'd be giving alcohol to a two year old!” Phantom is horrified that his coworkers are so casually breaking the law.

“But you said you fought in the Revolutionary War this morning!” Green Lantern said with his eyebrows knit in confusion.

“No, I said I fought someone from the Revolutionary War. As in, the ghost of someone from the revolutionary war!”

“You can't pull that on us. There's murals and stuff of you from thousands of years ago.” The Flash waves off with a laugh.

Phantom’s finger presses painfully hard into Flash’s chest. “I do not need to explain time travel to you of all people. My mentor hates you, and I'm STILL sent on missions constantly to clean up your messes.” Phantom's clear and low. Flash liked it better when he was shouting and not staring him down like a predator with narrowed eyes.

(This random idea popped into my head. It made me laugh, so I thought you might, too. Here you go!)

[bloodstainedsapphic]

modern!ellie dating app au. for a little monthly au challenge i've tasked myself with. a most awkward first date. fluff. 2.1k words.

you matched with ellie! your eyes widen at the pop-up on your screen. could that be real? some sick, twisted glitch on the app’s end? ellie is—by no exaggeration—the cutest person you've seen on this godforsaken app since you downloaded it. sure, that’s not exactly a bragging right, but it’s true. she stands out like a diamond in a sea of grit and mediocre matchmaking.

so what do you do? of course, you don’t send a message. it’s not like there’s other options, that’s not the lesbian way.

the rest of the day wanes, and your mind drifts to other matters. only occasionally do your thoughts flicker back to ellie’s profile, just sitting there in waiting—her silly question responses, the obligatory guitar photo, how her sage-green eyes must appear even brighter, prettier in person. oh, that’s no good. you need to stifle your expectations. calm down, you remind yourself. it’s just an app. just a pretty girl on an app. only later, when you slither into bed clad in your coziest socks under dimmed lights, you’re struck with the unforeseen.  your phone buzzes, and damn near flies out of your hand when you see the culprit notification. Ellie: Hey :)

oh god oh god oh god. it’s 11 pm. too early for a booty call. or is it? hell, would you even say no to one? not with her, hell no. your fingers tremble as you mull over the best response to send back—something to capture the attention of this hot girl who defied all odds and sent the first message. You: Hi :) great. just perfect. now you look like an idiot. you huff to yourself, running a clammy palm over your face, immediately swiping to another app in a desperate bid to forget that interaction exists. maybe 5 minutes pass. Ellie: What’s up tonight? Ellie: Sorry if that’s dry, I’m new to this dating app thing you smile ear-to-ear at the follow-up. it humanizes her—this gorgeous person who’s looking at the same screen as you, right this second. she’s real, and seems to care just as you do about saying the right thing. you don’t want to muck this up, already putting too much weight into this handful of words. You: Not much, just reading before bed. You? You: And that’s okay, you’re doing fine :) maybe 30 seconds pass this time. Ellie: Oh good Ellie: And just scrolling on my phone. I swear I’m usually more exciting lol Ellie: What are u reading? You: it’s this weird sci-fi fantasy thing. like space politics and robot humanoid thingies lol You: not sure if that makes sense Ellie: No it does! That sounds sick actually

Ellie: I love sci-fi, give me weird and spacey anyday you grin, already kicking your feet a little under the blanket. she gets it. she sees you. You: real!! so you do read it too? or are you trying to impress me? lol You: either is fine you tack on the quip at the end, worried you sounded hard-to-get. you don’t want to seem uninterested at all. you pull the blanket up over your mouth, as if shrouding yourself from the anticipation. Ellie: No I do Ellie: But i’d say i’m also trying to impress you a little. Is that a crime 🤨 now you’re really giggling, your embarrassingly fluttery fingers trying to type faster than your racing thoughts can keep up.

You: not at all. it’s working 🤭 Ellie: Good :) wanna get coffee sometime? We can exchange weird spacey sci-fi books You: I’d like that :) —---------------------- saturday at 1. saturday at 1 at northrise cafe.

the plan becomes etched into your brain. you’re on edge, unsure how to approach this new development. coffee is casual, right? you’re caught wondering if your giddiness suggests that you’re incapable of being casual about anything at all. let alone this cutie in your messages.

you’re on your laptop, browsing, trying to check off the last few tasks of the day when a new ping zaps through your synapses. instinctively, you reach for your phone. 

@/els.williams liked your photo.

on instagram? you hadn’t even exchanged instagrams yet. what a little sleuth ellie is.

you don’t say anything—just pleased at her curiosity. you toss a like back, letting ellie know she hadn’t been slick.

you rake your profile, for a brief panic over the viewability of your posts. but you’re relieved when ellie plays it off, naturally, by spamming a few more of your posts in retaliation, leaning into the bit. she must not hate it.

you follow suit, liking her few posts in return. they’re pretty vague, just a few photo dumps of someone trying not to look too online. almost none of her face; only piquing your curiosity more. this starts a little back-and-forth rhythm building between you.

maybe-just maybe-she is just as eager as you.

—------------

you stare at the locked doors of northrise cafe at 12:51 p.m on what’s turned out to be a balmy saturday afternoon.

closed at 12? what the fuck? that place’ll be out of business by summer with hours like that.

your fingers scramble across the screen, firing off a message before you both end up awkwardly standing here, side by side, locked out and confused like morons who didn’t triple check the business hours. You: um change of plan You: the cafe is closed. wtf no answer. your foot taps the pavement and you look around. why isn’t she answering? your eyes stay glued to the screen. hoping, waiting, praying that the message bubbles appear. all hope seems lost at 12:57 pm. “uh. hi?” your internal panic is interrupted, looking behind you. you weren’t ready for this up close—she’s gorgeous. lips pinkened, cheeks rosey but still full of freckles, and yep, green of her eyes brighter in person. her hair, pulled back in a loose bun with some strands lining her face, sheens in the light, more reddish than brown now. she was wearing an black leather jacket, old, worn, fitting loosely on her. the looseness of the jacket complemented her skinny jeans. she did casual so well. and the way she smiled—something seraphic, inviting, in spite of the awkward situation that had arose.

you try not to trip over your own tongue, stumble over your words. “hello! hi. the cafe is closed. i tried to text you. umm…” you glance between her and the barrier that uprooted your plan. ellie steps closer, scanning the storefront, assessing the situation. her brow lifts slightly in disbelief before she presses her tongue to her bottom lip, thinking.

“i know it’s not ideal… but my place is just two blocks over,” she says, trying to stay lighthearted but careful, considerate. “....i promise i’m not a murderer.”

-------

ellie’s place is... characterized by your average early-20s space, barren in some corners, likely missing a few key essentials, but elevated by a more eccentric, nerdy memorabilia collection. it’s a cozy clutter.

not that you’re focused on that. you’re preoccupied with the fact that you’re in this one-of-a-kind cutie’s space after having only just met face-to-face. is this an absolute nightmare for the safety-conscious? mayhaps. but you trust her word about not being a murderer, willingly entering the potential lion’s den, convinced by a single glance into those soft, round, forest-colored eyes. you’ve settled on her patched-together loveseat, waiting for her return. it feels like every muscle in your body is dedicated to trying to seem casual. do you have any clue if it’s working? definitely not. “ta daa…” ellie rounds the armrest, carrying a plate teeming with whatever cheese, crackers, and olives she could scrounge together from her kitchenette. “it’s no cafe... but, uh, i think i did alright..”

she places a hard seltzer in your hand, catching you slightly off-guard. a questioning look flickers across her face as your fingers wrap around the can—an unspoken ask if you’re okay with this absolutely bastardized smorgasbord of treats.

it’s so funny, you can’t help but titter, peeling open the tab and tasting that first sip. ellie’s shoulders slump in relief as she situates the entree on the coffee table, her free hand reaching for the remote.

“i guess..there’s something special about sharing a charcuterie board and seltzer on the first meeting with a not-murderer,” you say, reaching out to clang your cans together.

she snorts at that, the sound short and unexpected, like she hadn’t meant to laugh but couldn’t stop it. she gently knocks her can against yours, the corner of her mouth twitching up. her knees subconsciously mirror the gesture, brushing against yours on the semi-cramped seat.

there’s a comfortable sliver of silence. maybe you’re both actively deciding which topic is best to redirect the afternoon. your eyes drift to her knickknacks—you start examining them more closely, hoping to jog ellie’s memory, silently nudging her to show off a little.

luckily, she catches on. she swallows the last of her cracker and rises, pointing toward the bookshelf brimming with comics. 

”oh, right- i can show you i meant it- the sci-fi nerd, thing..hopefully you find it as cool in person,” she musters up with a sheepish grin, gesturing you over. you follow, a collected smirk on your face to try and reassure her. you did think it was cool, in a dorky way. a dork you’d hope to have the courage to kiss senseless if the opportunity arose for sure. 

ellie traces the spines of her collection, introducing her volumes of comic books in a sort of impromptu show-and-tell. the more receptive you are, the more enthusiastic she gets—an excited aura radiating off her as she spouts off details, trivia, favorite arcs. you’re enamored with her nerding out. it’s endearing, disarming. it proves her humanness in a way that makes you fall further, faster.

the shelf is just the beginning, she shows off her trinkets littered all over, giving you a proper feel for her lived space and by proxy- ellie herself.

ellie suddenly looks taken aback. she scratches the back of her neck, slightly embarrassed, like she realized something was missing.

“it’s a bit..quiet? would you mind if i put on some music?”

eventually, ellie nabs a playlist, deciding it’d be nice. without a speaker, the sound quietly emits from her phone, a blend of alt-rock and dusty classics older than either of you. you sway a little in approval. it’s a small thing, but it sweetens the growing ease between you.

“anyway, don’t let me do all the talking. what are your favorites?” ellie puts the spotlight on you, and you return to the tightly-fit love seat, ellie tucking one leg underneath her and leaning in, freckles as evident as ever- allowing you some room in more ways than one. 

you snack on ellie’s make-do cheese board, conversing about your favorite stories, exchanging fan theories and controversial opinions, playfully debating for the hell of it. there are even a few little couch-dances to whatever’s playing. it’s delightfully awkward, it’s low stakes, and you’re growing more comfortable by the second. 

time slips away during the warm, lively chatter. you’re only aware that it’s getting to be late when the sun melts into a golden glow that peeks through the window shades.

“would you look at the time?” you announce, stretching out from that extended time curled up, invested in this girl. you shoot ellie the universal look, initiating a regretful, hesitant goodbye. seems neither of you really want it to end- but simultaneously fear being the one acting ‘too much’ or overstepping. 

ellie escorts you down to the entrance, hands shoved into her pockets of her skinny jeans, steps dragging at a snails pace.

you hover. glance at her mouth under the dim, flickering entryway light. she does the same—shoulders curled forward, eyes darting. both of you standing there, waiting for the other to act brave just as ellie had with that first dm—the one that led you here. ellie even rocks forward on the balls of her feet, eyes flitting to your lips and down to your shoes, almost having the nerve to go for it. 

but, alas, the loserishness wins over.

you lift a small wave, which ellie volleys back to you. finally parting ways, ellie stepping backwards, retreating into her place. a space you already sorely missed, despite only having visited one time. but you’re already, eagerly hoping it’s not the only time you grace the inside of it.

you‘ve hardly turned the street corner when your phone dings.

Ellie: I had a good time. Hope u did too :) Lowkey wish I had kissed you you stop walking, grinning at the screen like a dumbass and biting back a tiny, smitten squeal. 

You: next time <3 

[lavilavs]

୨୧ ── Stream with me!

› Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x Streamer!Wife!Reader

› Scenario: What more could a wife who streams want other than streaming with her husband? Nothing! Maybe. It depends. But in this universe—best believe that it is all you've ever wanted! What does your husband think about it, though?

› Notes: English is not my first language + Reblogs and likes are very appreciated! + almost 6k words that's why it took me days to write TT + Cringe and unhinged alert + big poo and goobert stole the show

Bruce Wayne

Bruce lets out a deep sigh as he watches you set up before starting the stream. A warm smile adorns his face, but he's still reluctant to show up as a guest. Just why did someone suggest a wife and husband bonding time in your streams? You were overjoyed that you ended up calling him in the middle of your stream to ask him about it.

Bruce excused himself and let an executive continue the briefing. His gruff voice sounded soft when he called your name, asking why you suddenly called—not even the slightest bit of annoyance in his voice at the fact you called during a meeting.

"Honey, look at the picture I sent!" He questions what could possibly have his wife over the moon. With the monitor in his lens, the picture popped in front of him. It was a 5 dollar donation from UnkissedBrick that said—in all caps—

"MAKE A STREAM WITH YOUR HUSBAND AND MY LIFE IS YOURS !!!$%5@5@"

It started a spark within the community that they were BEGGING you to make it come true. 

A stream to make money, have fun, and be with your husband at the same time? Of course you'd agree. Best believe that Bruce had no way out of this, you barely asked anything from him—would he have the heart to decline a simple request such as this?

No! And that's why he's here sitting beside you, wearing your adorable, pink headphones. It was something entirely new in his life. Never, and I mean never, has Bruce imagined he'll be wearing this godforsaken headphone for millions to see. The only thing stopping him from taking it off was obviously you—his wife.

"Wow! Thank you all so much for coming to see this stream. There's a lot more of you today."

Bruce snaps his head in your direction, giving him a clear view of how you marveled at the screens in front of you. A thought slips into his mind, whispering thoughts that made him worry about you. 

A lot more today? 

How many more were there than usual?

He'll let anything happen, just not this. Stealing the light from you is a scenario he didn't want to occur in this very video. It's your stream, it's your channel—not his. His blood pressure spikes at the thoughts flooding his head. And yet, you didn't seem to mind, you're just thanking them.

Bruce looked at the rapid comments piling up on the screen, amazed by the speed of people commenting. Nothing's too quick for his eyes, though. Who do you take him for? He reads every single one. Despite his worries, it was drastically different from what he thought. Your fanbase was literally fighting the viewers who only came for him.

BigPoo: Coming here ONLY for the husband is soooo embarrassing

isayholAcomosta: Scram your asses outta here man

IAMBatman: LMAOO IMAGINE WATCHING FOR BRUCE WAYNE

InstantoPreggo: either support her (and him ig) or face the consequences of my 16-inch-thick, fat, JUICY HUMONGOUS D!LD0 UP YOUR ASS.

Bruce had to flinch himself away from the monitor after reading that last comment. 

He looks at you with disbelief. So this is what you were laughing at... To be fair, it is rather amusing, to say the least. The look on his face makes you laugh even more now that you've spared some time to actually look at your husband's worry corner beside you.

The chat stops when you scold them to support both of you, also instructing the mods to delete any negative comments about Bruce. Which is odd since you remember telling them to do so beforehand.

"Don't worry about them, honey. Let's just have fun."

The kiss you give on his cheek eases Bruce, his bigger hands take yours to caress it in a comforting way. But really, we know it was for him. A deep sigh escapes his lips, knowing he has nothing to worry about anymore aside from getting through this stream with you.

You've noticed him being quiet again. He should try focusing on the game you're playing so he could see how fun it is. You told him to have fun, and Bruce is trying, believe me. 

Bruce folds his arms and directs his attention to the monitor where you're playing some kind of simulator game about supermarkets. The store layout is nice, though it looks cramped, the prices are lower than the market price, the other products are understocked, and the bills were due in-game. 

"Honey, are you playing this right?" 

"Am I not?"

He's spent years managing businesses, come on. Bruce is shrewd. And seeing his dear wife fail at this supermarket simulator, no can do. He's just lucky this game is right up his alley. You let go of the keyboard and mouse unattended to listen to his suggestions. 

What was hotter than the fact that there's a hot man explaining business tactics to you? Correct, he's your husband! And a smart husband is a hot husband.

Bruce was so concerned with his strategies that he suddenly went on autopilot and grabbed the controls to show you instead of using words. You stifle a laugh behind your hand. When did he learn all those controls? He wasn't just moping around beside you, and he actually was paying attention? You might just want to request another wedding again.

His only intention was to show you how you were supposed to manage the shop. Bruce demonstrated that perfectly. So why is he still in control? His mind wants to let go. And letting go would mean he'll have to leave playing this game. The escaped chuckles from you reached his ears. With a tentative glance and muted rosy cheeks, it was like he was asking permission to keep playing.

"Go on, dear. I'll just watch you play." You mean it. Watching Bruce play a game was more enjoyable than playing, he understands it more anyways. You don't think your heart will ever feel cold when you look at him. Not ever while you're still breathing and alive to keep on loving him.

Your eyes narrow with every part of Bruce that your eyes land on. A subconscious gulp was made when you took notice of the few strands of hair that hung on top of his forehead, the way veins would pop in his forearms with a few movements when he used the keyboard and mouse, and the musky scent of his cologne that perked your senses up—you'd wonder to yourself why you didn't have at least one child with him already.

The overflowing amount of comments in the corner of your eye catches your attention. You scoot closer to read it.

Tin-a-pie: Miss ma'am is so DOWNBAD

Big Poo: "Eaaasy white chocolate"  AHH TYPE SHIIT

MMONEYY: Bruce Wayne's gonna melt 

Goobert: ON EVERYBODY'S SOUL WE ALL WANT TO BE IN BETWEEN THEM

You snort, hitting Bruce's shoulder repeatedly. The man loses focus on his game, amusement in his eyes as you stood up to sit on his lap. He catches you in his arms, holding your shaking body in amusement. Guess he didn't have to excessively worry, after all—spending time and making you happy is his priority today.

"Are you happy, my love?" Bruce pressed his forehead against yours. His forearms had a grip on your waist that felt so secure and warm that even if you melted, you'd still be in his arms.

"Very. Thank you, Bruce." Oh, how your laughter gets his heart kicking and running.

The chat floods once again with teaseful comments. Too many for you to read without getting blown by another. Not that it matters, your husband is too busy being pampered in your kisses.

Bruce's phone vibrates nonstop in his pocket. You fished it out for him and opened it to see Dick's face with an image attached to it.

I hope Mom doesn't mind the new sticker I added to the chat. Tell her I told the other mods about it. ;]

Bruce was in the middle of questioning what his first son said only to be caught off guard with you abruptly shifting your body weight against him, laughing uncontrollably. The chat was spamming a photo of Bruce from earlier when he was so focused on the supermarket simulator game.

"I didn't look like that, did I?" He stares at you deadpan, making you laugh harder.

Dick Grayson

Is this even your stream at all? How was he acting like close friends to your viewers after a few minutes? You stare at your husband dumbfounded. Although you know that Dick has a charming aura and personality, you didn't expect it to leak through the screen and into their hearts within minutes of knowing him!

When you asked Dick if he wanted to do a stream with you, he basically almost leaped with joy. Just almost—because he suddenly hugged you before he could jump up into space from the ecstasy of his dear, loving wife if he wanted to do a gaming video with you.

Actually, Dick has always wanted to. The thought of having millions see how loved you are in his arms—OH THE SEROTONIN—Dick can't wait to do so. He just waited and waited and waited—until you finally invited him.

You can't actually hide your jealousy well about the fact that he's paying more attention to the chat than you.

Goobert: I suddenly feel like a mistress caught in the act with how the missus is looking from behind you

Big Poo: NAH HE'S OUR HUSBAND NOW

TheAMAZINGpie: She's so jealous LMAOOO tease her more

Good thing Dick was staring intently at the chat, he couldn't see your secretive middle finger you're flashing at the viewers. He laughs and takes a quick glance at you over his shoulder, then back to the chat. A scoff of disbelief leaves your mouth. Those snitches!

"Yes, chat, these are the true colors of my wife. She's more barbaric when it's just us two here." The playful tone has you pinching his sides. Dick laughs and flinches away from your hand.

"See? She keeps on hurting me."

"Quit the baby voice, Dick, oh my God! Eww." 

You gag at your husband, earning yet another heartfelt laugh. It was hard to pretend you were annoyed when everything felt so warm and natural. Dick is lucky he's your husband, or else you would've strangled him out of annoyance by now.

"Horror games are overrated, let's play simple ones." He pouts at you.

"What do you suggest then?"

And that's how you found yourself playing dress-up games at the old girl games website, where you can find all of the low-quality yet nostalgic games for girls in the world. You both competed in a game where the game picks who made the better outfit.

Imagine the look of disbelief in your face when he keeps winning 5 times in a row—5 times! Dick has got to be cheating, because in no way Dick Grayson has more fashion sense than you, right? Fight him, girl!

"You are so cheating, babe! How are you the winner every round?"

Dick raised his arms in a smug way, shrugging you off to annoy you. "Ah, the loser is barking. Face it, babe. I'm better." He blows you a kiss that you playfully shooed away, pinching your nose after. Dick gasps at your action, fighting the urge to laugh and just play along.

"Still can't beat me, honey."

"Pick another game. You'll taste defeat, Grayson."

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Grayson."

That's a blow to your pride. Imagine getting flustered in the middle of your bickering. Now you let a smug grin slip on your husband's face. Girl, you better stand on business cause you are losing FACE to your viewers right now.

5 girl go games later and you're still somehow losing to Dick. It feels like your sex has been reversed because what the hell? Maybe you are a man... at heart. How are you losing to a full grown man who—mind you—suggested that you play these games! Dick might be playing these at night when you're asleep.

It was a cooking game this time. You both need to beat each other with higher scores and more satisfied customers, obviously. It was just a mystery how he still wins when you both clearly see the big, colorful letters in bold saying that the dish you prepared was perfect—and he still wins!?

"That's it! I'm convinced you are cheating." You point a finger at him.

"It's just a matter of skill, hun." He smirks at you.

The last resort—your faithful, loyal, loving chat will support you on your accusations, right? Oh no, that smile on your face was wiped when you saw an ongoing poll on the stream. Scratch what you used to describe your chat, they are being the total opposite right now.

Overthrow the queen and appoint Dickie as the new ruler!

It's worst enough that it was 99% over 1%. You look at the camera with a death stare, in disbelief that your dear fans would overthrow you like this. Is it because Dick was more charming and had a larger ass than you? Okay, maybe keep that last thought to yourself because they cannot see the down half of your bodies.

And an annoying donation comes in the heat of the moment...

Daywalk donated 5$  

I'm looking at the most breathtaking, marvelous, amazing, pretty, kind, majestic, beautiful, attractive, sexy, hot, and gorjus (idk how to spell) right now and oh—I didn't realize you were here, sweetheart

Dick was giggling uncontrollably beside you with his phone in his hands. You saw the stream on his screen split seconds before he hid it beside him where you can't reach it. Did he really think you wouldn't notice it was him with this shitty ass username?

"Really, Dick? Daywalk? That's the best you could come up with?" You bury your face in your hand, imitating a facepalm to hide your laughter. You hate how he can easily make you laugh with the stupidest things.

"I am a fan of Nightwing, Babe. He has such good hair, good facial features, and that goddamn juicy ass of his. Have you seen his—"

"Dick."

"Okay, okay, sheesh, God forbid a man uplift his fellow man." He raised his hands in mock defeat. Backing away from that look of yours.

Dick Grayson is audacious. Partly one of the reasons why you married this man. 

You gave up, rolled your eyes, and just gave him a kiss to shut him up.

Jason Todd

"Oh come on, baby, you know you're happy to be here." 

You snicker at the scowl on his face. Jason looked like he wanted to drop a smoke bomb to escape the stream, but of course he wouldn't! What you said is true—he is ecstatic to be here. He refused your offer several times before caving in... and just a little secret, he just wanted to see how bad you want him to be in one.

In fact, he had the stream planned out already. In the span of the 3 days where you begged him to stream with you, Jason used it as a time to search for games to play, imagine scenarios, and other cute stuff that he wants to make happen today.

First things first, seem tough enough to place boundaries through his stare and seem friendly enough to joke around with him. Check. The chat was respectful to Jason and some joked around that this looked like Doomguy and Isabelle looking relationship.

"Oh please, it's more switched. This guy's a baby." Jason's eyes widen when you pull his chair to ruffle on his hair like a little kid. He glares up at you. Okay—maybe, this is tolerable, it has a loving effect to the viewers. Yes, this is fine. 

"Jason, don't bob your head like that onto my boob." You snort and push his head away. Ah, he thought he was nodding inside his head.

Big Poo: He's kinda weird... I like him

Goobert: We accept weird big guy and queen dynamics

Ignoring that small weird display of his, it's time for phase 2—urge you to play horror games of his choice. He didn't binge watch couples playing horror games last night just for you to play other games. A mischievous grin is fighting it's way to make itself appear on his lips. Jason expects you to get scared, cling to him, and show off the muscles he spent the few days toning. 

And as if he wasn't toned enough, Jason plans to show that this muscles of his won't be just for show if they decided to mug you in the streets while he's around. Anyone who's watching this stream would be a warning for parasocial freaks who'll try something with you.

"How about we play this one, babe?" He points at the game he searched up.

With a look of disbelief, you could only sigh at your husband's antics. He couldn't have been more obvious than this. The longer reps of his biceps workouts? Yeah, he's definitely planning something to show it off.

You sigh, and start the game up. The chat snitches on him smiling widely behind you as the game starts. It quickly disappears when you turn around, then reappears when you don't look. He gives the chat a playful motion of slicing his neck then points at the camera with a finger placed on his lips.

With a discreet glance behind you, there, you saw your husband doing a face that could kill that's accompanied by creepy giggles. In all of the years you've been together, not once could a sight like this ever cross your mind. Why is he having internet beef with your viewers?

Does he also think you can't see him through your stream view at your other monitor? You also stare at the gummy smile on your face, still having no resistance in finding everything he does as cute.

Heck, even if he snapped someone's neck in front of you with a sassy remark after, you'll still find it cute. Fucked up, yes, but hey, it's not like you haven't had body counts of your own in your other line of work.

Jason lets out an amused scoff at your unwavering focus to navigate through the dark cellar. There hasn't been a single jumpscare since you started. But because of his horror game video marathon, he's got every single one memorized. 

It'll take some time before the first one. In the meanwhile, he knows what to do to get you to warm up for the big scare.

His hands snakes itself downward, right past his own chair. You were focused on getting out of the sealed room that the chat's warnings fell to deaf ears... or eyes. Jason inches his chair closer to yours, carefully, so that his chair won't bump into yours.

An annoying habit of his that once made his teeth bleed from your punch. He waits until you're about to turn around a corner to strike—Jason bolts your body with an abrupt push on your shoulder. "Boo!"

The most he got from you was a loud curse and your middle finger in the middle of his face.

"Jason—We agreed on never doing that again. Fuck you, honestly." You glare at him through the monitor, not wasting another second to look back at the game. Your ears perk at the loud laugh that seeps through your headphones. 

"Oh please, you're not too much of a pussy to get scared from that, aren't you?" 

"Is that a challenge?" 

Jason waits for suspense, waiting until he knows you're almost near the first jumpscare of the game to throw you off. His hands once again find the liberty to make you jolt, making you lose focus and lightly smack your husband beside you.

Once you get back to the game, a horrifying figure appears on the screen, taking almost all of the pixels it offers. You flinch back and shield your eyes away the moment Jason tries to cover you from the screen.

It all happened suddenly. But it was if time moved slower for Jason.

One minute he was about to hug you.

The next, your fist connects with his face.

Jason didn't budge but hell—your punch still hurts as when you first met!

"You promised to never punch me again!" Jason whines.

Another promise was broken. As if Jason didn't break his earlier? He's sure his jaw also is. With a grimace and a guilty heart, you caressed his face softly. It was your way of apologizing. Oh well, it's both of your faults so let's just get back to gaming.

Big Poo: Leave Doomguy and Isabelle, bro. They're Mr. and Mrs. Smith at this point

Goobert: They're both tryna survive from each other

So what if Jason's plans failed? His jaw is aching—that's fine! He still has other ways... A plan B if you will. As long as his biceps will have a spotlight. He asks you, sweetly, if he could play instead. Jason smirks triumphantly as he knows you can't resist his weirdly adorable, beaten-up face.

He was actually doing so well for someone who's allegedly never saw or played this game before. Jason passed through each trial with flying colors.

When another jumpscare had shown itself, you were suprised to see your husband inch his shoulder closer to the monitor.

"Not flexin! But look at these chills man." He's definitely flexing.

The chat goes crazy! Comments pile up regarding your 'done-with-the-bullshit-face' at the back and mostly about Jason's muscles. He yaps about the non existent chills on his biceps that the chat eats up.

Big Poo: HOLY MOTHER OF GOD—PLEASE HEADLOCK ME

Goobert: I was unfamiliar with your game, Jason. Forgive me (pls flex more)

TheCrowbar: The crowbar approves of this marriage.

"We already are married, bud. If you wanted to say no, you could've done so 4 years ago." Jason rolls his eyes at the comment.

Yeah, he's definitely not warning everyone with that sass.

Tim Drake

"How is everyone mistaking me as your brother?"

Tim glares the chat through the screen. Evidently pissed at the teasing comments towards him. They knew who he was. How could they not? You always mention him and even introduced him at the start of the stream.

He gently grabs your left hand, raising it to show your matching rings.

Big Poo: AWWW! Such a cute sibling promise rings

Goobert: He loves his sister so much. ackk its so cute!!1!!

You try your best not to laugh. It might set Tim off and make him leave without creating any content. Despite wanting to see him get teased and pissed, you had to stop the chat with a few words.

"That's enough teasing my husband, guys. He doesn't like it." But you do. Your viewers seem to caught on your interest from the way you smile and stare at him earlier. Thankfully, they play along at the moment.

"What game do you guys want to see us play?"

Ah, you shouldn't have asked them. Your husband is a geek for video games! He's better than you at every game you guys play. He was more a tower defense, strategic, and board games type of guy. Doesn't make him any less of a weak player when it comes to games like Nekket, Super Smash Sis, though.

You drag Tim along with you to read some comments. He's impressed at the rapid comment speed your viewers have. Can you read a lot from this on a daily basis? There's a lot of unhinged comments slipping through his eyes too.

"Horror games? That sounds good."

What!

Tim snaps his eyes beside you, wide with surprise.

Before you could even ask for his opinion, your husband was already shaking his head sideways. He even had his arms crossed to match with his disagreement towards the suggestion. Tim does not want horror games this late at night. Absolutely not. Not inside this household when he's around.

He knows you're questioning him. But Tim can't tell you he watched the new horror movie you've been getting him to watch with you—alone. In his defense, he didn't want you to waste money on another shitty movie like last time, so, he scavenged alone to determine if it is as good as they say.

This is the result of his little secret mission from you. It's not his fault he hasn't recovered! You didn't see how terrifying it was for yourself... and not that he plans on letting you know.

Your viewers feed on his terror, already laughing to themselves behind their screens. Tim is just unlucky that you have wealthy viewers ready to make an offer you both can't resist. Like what do you mean two people named Big Poo and Goobert paid $10,000 each just for Tim to play?

And that's how the unlucky Timothy Drake found himself hiding behind your frame, occasionally peeking behind your hair to see how his wife is doing.

Everytime you turn into a corner, flashes of that horrible face appear in front of him. God, why are the lights turned off in your room? He doesn't even want to stand up to turn it on. He's aware he's a grown man, but God forbid a man like him can't get scared.

He takes a peek at the comments at the side.

HoelessRomantic: You shouldn't go there if I were you...

Tin-a-pie: GIRL DON'T

Goobert: You're purposely going there to scare baby bro

Baby bro?! This Goobert did not just say that. It felt like all his fear went away. He pushed himself away from your back. You weren't kidding that saying anymore brother jokes will tick him off.

"You may have beaten me at suggestions, but you won't defeat me in terms of winning over my wife!" He scowls at the monitor, taking you and your viewers aback. "I'm looking at you, Goobert... This is a threat." He smiles maniacally.

Tim sweetly smiles at you. One of the things you can't resist.

"Okay... okay.. calm down, Baby. What game do you want?"

"Oh trust me, you'll love it, honey." Tim presses a kiss on your forehead as he takes control.

You love Tim.

You know him well enough considering he's your husband for 4 years now.

But you guess you didn't know him well enough to expect him to suddenly exit the game and pull out a whole ass board game between you guys. Was it sitting there unnoticed the whole time? No matter, you recognized it to be one of his favorite board games.

He excitedly sets it up on the desk for the chat to see. A smug grin on his face to show off his pre-ordered game with freebies. Tim's so excited to share a game he's mastered.

"I bet you kids don't know this. Back in my days, this was the bomb." He proudly boasts.

Big Poo: Bro pulled out his last resort

Goobert: He had to gain back some aura obv

MMONEYY: Are you sure he gained some?

Ignoring their comments, Tim starts on the basics on how to play the game. Here comes the hardest part in being his wife—listening to his long, heartfelt explanation of Dungeons and Reptiles for the second time.

Nonetheless, you were blessed to hear his voice chip at every detail of the game. To see how the love of your life's eyes gleam to share facts to the viewers you tell about Tim everyday. They knew he was a nerd from your stories—but to see and hear it real time is something else.

Tim looked like a grandparent telling stories of his youth. The stories that seemed boring, but you can't help but listen in to. Although the comments complained that it was boring, and he's like an old man, the viewer count didn't decrease. 

They all listened intently with you. Do they see the vision on why you fell in love with Tim? Definitely.

Big Poo: All in vote of Tim being promoted to Husband, say aye.

Goobert: AYEEE

HoelessRomantic: Aye.

Tin-a-pie: Aye!!!

and a million others more.

"Oh so now I'm officially seen as the husband?" Tim laughs, stopping his yap about the game. He gives you a warm look and pulls you towards him. "I guess it's better than being the little brother, babe." He kisses you passionately while covering your eyes to raise his ring finger alone to the chat.

Tim must have the last laugh after all that teasing.

Damian Wayne

Damian has never been this clingy before. Is it because he's finally out in the open with you for millions to watch behind the safety of their screens? He doesn't know—only that he needs to make sure you're his only.

You can see how red his ears are on the monitor, his body boiling at the simple, cute gesture of having you in his lap while you introduced yourself and him to your viewers. This isn't PDA, he knows you're both technically alone in your shared room. 

Still, he isn't used to it. He's been in the spotlight several times, sure—he's Damian Wayne, hello! Son of Bruce Wayne? You get my point, but, he hasn't really been out with you to the media except the time you got married. Damian's more of a private, but not secret type of guy, you know? 

It wasn't difficult to make him agree. With a simple kiss, doe eyes, and a sweet smile, Damian would say yes without a thought!

Oh, but your chat was the mischievous type. One look at Damian and they all knew he was a guy who'd go boom for his lady. And what type of Boom you may ask? Well...

Big Poo: She is NOT going anywhere blud, calm dowwwnnnnn

Goobert: Acting like a damn dog who doesn't want to share the tree he peed on in 2025 is crazy

HoelessRomantic: Let OUR wife go you madman

"Our wife?" He growls, glaring at the camera. Damian would've stood up from his seat if you weren't on his lap. 

He had ignored the first two comments above that, choosing to focus on a comment about his wife. Like—that's his wife! Not hard to understand. He had everything to prove it. Pictures of your wedding day, legal certificates, your wedding rings, and a lot more!

Instead, he snaps his head to the side, acting like he was looking at a physical body to scan up and down with a warning glare. Possessive and explosive... The chat likes that. They'll have the night of their lives dedicated to set Damian off.

"They're normally like that. Don't mind them, Honey." 

He would've let it pass, and listened to your coo. And yet you let him hear you use the word, normally. Normally—as in, you listen to these goofs call you their wife? He doesn't want that. He'll create online beef for you.

And so it began, the chat and Damian's cold war.

The purpose of gaming is gone. Only Damian's sassy remarks and the viewers saying flirty stuff to get on his nerves becomes the content and entertainment. So much for the games you thought you were gonna play today.

But this? You'd pay to watch the whole day. Judging by that smug smirk on your husband's lips, he's aware that they were just teasing him. What can you say... after being with a wife who ragebaits for fun can train you into tolerating bullshit.

And what's a good way to tolerate bullshit? Fight it with your own bullshit, of course. And laughs—to show that he and you are joking. We're trying not to get banned here. So much for the millions of followers if it all ended because of his unhinged comments.

Big Poo: Pull up on roblox right now old geezer or lose husband rights to the whole chat

Goobert: OOOOOH SHITS GOING DOWN

HoelessRomantic: Millions of games and you choose roblox

Tin-a-pie: Imagine losing husband rights to a roblox game...

As soon as you read the chat's algorithm, you shake your head no at Damian. He shouldn't pick a fight over a game he doesn't know. 

It was too late though.

"Challenge accepted." Damian points at the camera. 

Hold on—his smugness falters. You raise a brow over the abrupt change of mood.

"Babe, do you have a roblox account?" He was so adamant in that petty challenge, it was hard to say no at this point. "You better win, loser."

"Do I look like one?" If he has the energy to roll his eyes at you, he might have the energy to kick butt on a game.

You're still appalled that it's roblox of all games. How old was this Big Poo viewer of yours to pick this one specifically? You sure hope it's not a 15 year old... or worse, they could be in the single digits! Oh God, where are this kid's parents?

"In what game will we settle this, Big Poo?" 

Big Poo: Tower of hell :>

Goobert: I honestly thought you'd pick murder mystery 

Big Poo: Let the old man get a taste of the... OBBY MASTERRR

Hey, hey—is this even your stream anymore or Big Poo and Goobert's private chats?

Tower of hell isn't hard. You've played it before. It was just a matter of skill to climb the tower. Damian listens intently to your instructions while waiting for the game to load where Big Poo's avatar was waiting.

"Listen, Dami, just jump over the glowing blocks and shiftlock when needed, okay? You got this, dear!" 

Damian pats on his lips repeatedly until you figure out his motions. With a sigh and a chuckle, you move closer to give him a peck—just a peck! But your beloved had other plans. He pulls you by your hand and smashes his lips against yours. Your quick reflexes immediately covered the camera.

"I can't fathom how I'm in need of a kiss over a lego game."

"Me too. I feel so stupid."

You both laugh, parting away from each other when Big Poo starts to countdown in game.

It was going so well! Damian was in the lead. He's actually pretty good with obbies even if he's a noob. Mind you, he had no practice before the match. Did his training in life transfer to your roblox avatar right now? How is he moving and advancing so fast.

The chat goes crazy with a notable presence—Goobert. The poor guy was screaming their bestfriend's name so bad. They almost looked like a desperate wife wishing their soldier husband to come back home safely.

The whole chat was amazed to see Damian—a noob—winning. And he knows he is.

Goobert: USE THE SECRET WEAPON HERMANO

Damian arrives at the last platform. You marvel at the close gap between him and Big Poo. He's actually gonna win this stupid roblox bet? But what—why did Damian suddenly stop? Don't tell me he's about to—

He types fast in-game, a smug smirk on his face as he watches Big Poo's avatar inch closer to his. In just a few thumbs away, Damian sends his message.

Husband rights defended! ;p

And it was silent—the time went slow. The crowd was astounded when Big Poo suddenly had a stick with a hand at the end. It happened in slow motion. Especially for Damian who worked his way up to the top. 

No matter how fast his reflexes are... it wasn't the same with the wifi.

As your roblox character fell, Damian looked dead in the camera.

"Big Poo..." 

Uh oh

"I BETTER NOT SEE YOU HERE IN GOTHAM OR ELSE I WILL—"

The stream has ended.

extra scene!

In another universe...

In the timeline of Young Justice...

Jaime and Bart were laughing their asses off. Each had their own unique device that hasn't been seen by humankind other than them. It's a mystery how they even got it. Well, it was just on the table... so, it won't hurt to touch, right?

They've both been at it all day long. Lucky for them to have the day off, honestly. Or else they would've missed this multidimensional device that shows different universes. Never in their life would they see 5 of the batfamily like that.

Although 1 of them is unfamilliar, and the second Robin has changed so much.

In a span of 18 hours, all they did was watch the streams.

"How'd you even come up with Big Poo, Ese?"

"You don't wanna know what happened yesterday." Bart snickers. "Well, how about you, Goobert?"

"Don't ask me, it was Scarab's idea."

They both went silent—reminiscing the streams they just watched.

"Do you think M'gann will notice the missing $20,000 from the funds?"

"Don't worry about M'gann, worry about—"

"What $20,000?" Tim's voice springs behind them.

Great.

It just had to be the Robin who the $20,000 went to in another universe.

They better explain well or else they'll be in an interrogation room with the whole Bat Family listening in.

[chuluoyi]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 (𝐔𝐍)𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋

- sylus x reader

master and servant. man and his right hand woman. you and sylus are labeled many things, but does love exist in many labels of your relationship?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—angst, fluff, unrequited love, explicit smut, fwb, jealousy, hurt/comfort, description of major injury, blood loss, gore, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), spoilers! takes place throughout long-awaited revelry

note: my very first love and deepspace fic! :') w.c 5.2k ! i have a severe brainrot omg

Everyone knows of your relationship with Sylus.

The leader of Onychinus and his notorious lady assassin, you two strike fear into his foes and allies alike. You are as deadly as you are beautiful, and that's more or less why he keeps you around.

What everyone doesn't know, however... is that behind closed doors, you too share his wealth and his bed.

“I don't mind to spend the whole night with you,” he’d whisper in your ear seductively at nights, deft and veiny hands roaming your body all over. He often made you ride on top of him, dark burgundy eyes hazed with lust, knowing full well that you desired the very same goal he did.

And you’d respond his hunger with the same fervor, crashing your lips into his, your tongues intertwining, your hips moving vigorously against him.

“Ahh... ah!” Before you knew it, his cock—thick and long in size—slid inside you in such a snug fit, making you throw your head back and dig your sharp nails into his skin.

“Keep me going with your voice, kitten.” Sylus growled, eyeing your wobbling lips and tightly-pressed eyes as he sank even deeper inside you. “Yeah, just like that...”

Sylus always began roughly, seemingly not minding your breathless moans and wishes, and you liked him that way too—

“Is this... all you've got?” you panted in a hoarse voice, sweat lining your neck and forehead, the coil in your belly tightened so deliciously each time he thrusted into you. “Surely... y-you can do better...”

“Ha,” he gave a low snort, his red eyes blazing as he grabbed your bum and squeezed it, making you gasp. “Careful what you wish for... sweetie.”

And then your vision literally tilted upside down—Sylus gladly flipped your position so he could see you even better. This way, he also had even better access to you, intertwining your hand with his, spreading your legs wide so he could rut into you.

“—!” Breath was knocked out of your lungs as immeasurable pleasure washed over you, crashing and receding in an instant. You almost screamed as your back arched.

He broke into a satisfied smirk. “Let it out,” he murmured against your neck, biting gently into your skin, voice muffled. “You never hold back with me, do you, hmm? So, don’t start now.”

“You b-bastard...” you looked up at him with a breathless smile, knowing how close you were to losing your wits.

He simply made your nights worth remember. His allure was undeniable, with a voice that was naturally sultry. And his hands... fuck, they did heaven's work.

It didn't take you long to finally reach your climax, and once you did, your moans were the nastiest all night as you continuously lined his back with scratches.

You could feel how he was chasing his own orgasm all the while, before pulling out right at the last minute and made a mess on your belly, falling beside you.

“Tired?” Sylus’ chest rumbled with laughter as you laid sprawled there in a haze. His eyes narrowed at the sight of your burning cheeks. “I really like this look on your face right now.”

You rolled your eyes, catching your breath and shivered. “I bet you tell that to all other women you manage to lure to your bed.”

“How presumptuous.” He sent you a sour scowl. “I have a high standard— you should consider yourself lucky.”

Well, you do. Holding back a smile, you changed the topic. “I’m cold. Clean me up already.”

“Now, now… what a spoiled little thing you are…” Sylus chuckled, his voice deep and low, yet wrapping his arms around you nonetheless, hoisting you up.

Nights of passion. Mutually beneficial relationship. Nothing more and less.

No strings attached.

This is thrilling. Intimacy without commitment is more than enough to spice your checkered life. After all, what could be better and more rewarding than fucking the hottest man in N109 Zone and getting away with it?

At least, you thought so.

. . .

“Damn, you’re going to make me sore…” you grumbled, letting out a deep sigh as you sank into the sheets after he had cleaned you up, still basking in the afterglow and ready to drift off to sleep. “Ahh...”

Sylus’ lips curved into a wry smile as he watched you make yourself comfortable on his bed, slipping on his black shirt. “Well, I’m just that good, and you did ask for it.”

“Are you going out?” you asked in a small voice, teetering between sleep and wakefulness as you noticed him taking out his favorite gun. “It’s midnight.”

“Luke and Kieran said she has arrived.” Sylus said in low voice, not even sparing you a look. “After all, she has gone through all that trouble to come here, it is only right that I greet her myself.”

The woman. Sylus had told you several times, how a woman with Aether Core and powerful Resonance Evol would eventually come to N109 Zone. And that when the time came, he would make her resonate with him.

A part of you didn’t really know what to feel about this vague plan of his. “Will you bring her here too?”

“I’ll have her stay here until we have reached resonance,” he responded casually while shrugging on his coat.

Sylus valued others depending on their worth. He said it so himself—he isn't a philanthropist. He saw potential in your evol—the Speech Manipulation—which is why he rescued you three years ago, even after you had swung a blade to his throat.

This time must be the same. You played with the edges of your hair. “Well, consider me jealous then. Seems like I’ll have a rival soon.”

Your quip finally caught his attention, as he finally turned to you, one side of his mouth upturned.

“Ha.” Sylus strolled over to where you lay on the bed and placed a hand under your chin, letting out a throaty chuckle. “Is there even anyone brave enough to go against you?”

You shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “We shall see about that.”

Little did you know, the coming of this new girl would be the start of the undoing of your mutually beneficial relationship.

You would've expected the woman bearing Aether Core inside her to be way more interesting than that clueless, weak and easily spooked hunter from Linkon City.

But your and Sylus' definitions of interesting clearly differed though, as you caught him smiling after he pulled the most outrageous stunt on himself— having her shoot him right in the heart.

“She is funny,” he said to himself, almost snickering even as you wiped the blood off his toned body. “She was shaking so much the moment I pulled the trigger.”

“Is that your only finding—” you snapped as you wrapped the bandage around his bare chest, fuming. “—after shooting yourself just to mess with her?”

Luke and Kieran told you how he had used his Evol to pull the hunter girl onto his lap, then handed her a gun and made her shoot him. You couldn't believe it at first, until the sight of Sylus staggering to his bedroom, his shirt bloodied and clutching his chest made you almost scream in horror.

“Is that really necessary?” you scowled, tightening the bandage with more force than needed. “Or are you just trying to get her attention?”

Sylus’ sharp gaze settled on you then, seemingly not taking your comment well.

“What’s got you so worked up about this, hmm?” he asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he observed your cross expression. “Last I checked, we agreed not to get involved in each other’s personal affairs.”

Personal affairs, he said? Everything you two had done had long past breached all personal boundaries.

But the fact remains that you two are nothing more than—

“Fine.” You tied the bandage abruptly and about to storm off, making no effort to conceal your ire. You couldn’t say you were worried or that you hated seeing blood smeared across him. That was never in the agreement.

Until you felt a hard tug on your arm—

“And where does the angry kitty think she is going, hmm?”

Before you could discern it, your back was pressed against the wall—your left arm pinned beside your head, with Sylus filling your view.

His sculpted abs were right in front of you for the taking, his scent permeated the air, and his unsettling swirls of crimson eyes had you completely captivated.

“Have I ever told you that you look beautiful when you’re angry?” Sylus laughed as he leaned in, gripping your chin with his other hand. “If I didn’t know you were more than capable of slitting my throat in my sleep, I’d want you to look at me like this every day.”

It struck you how your heart raced wildly under his intense gaze. With his perfect face so close, the only sound that seemed to be most prominent was the pounding of your own heartbeat.

“What’s wrong? We’ve been closer than this,” Sylus taunted with a wide grin, his breath warm against your ear as he pressed his body against yours. “What’s making you so nervous?”

If you knew anything about Sylus, it was that he took pleasure in seeing you squirm in his hold. You glared daggers at him. “I hate you.”

“How lovely.”

“You’re infuriating,” you spat, devoid of any amusement.

He barked a satisfied bout of laugh once again, before releasing your chin. However, to your surprise, that very same hand groped your chest roughly—

“Then perhaps...” he hummed, a wicked glint in his red eyes, whispering to you with sultry voice right before he pulled you into him and devour your lips in heat: “You can help to fix me, sweetie.”

His kisses were hot as his tongue and hands made his mark on your body. Pressed against his bare skin, you gripped his strong, broad shoulders as he lifted your legs to his waist.

As always, he managed to dissolve all your lingering thoughts with lust. You just never knew one day you would finally reach the last straw though.

. . .

"Are you going out again tonight?" you muttered, tracing your fingers along his abs as you lay in his arms, still a bit giddy after your passionate session.

"No, I'm sleepy," he replied quickly, his voice low as he pulled you closer and closed his eyes. "Go to sleep already, kitten."

"I can't sleep."

"Poor you. I can though."

You quirked a frown at him. "You're so annoying these days."

"Oh?" Sylus cracked his eyes open, a smirk on his lips. "If you find me so disagreeable, you can always make me obey you, no?"

Your speech manipulation could make people do your bidding and it was a pretty useful talent. Apart from the first day you met Sylus three years ago in the wasteland of N109 Zone, you had never tried using it on him again.

"I won't, you idiot." You sighed and turned away, your back facing him. The idea of bending him to your will somehow didn't sit right with you. It was against your conscience now.

"Why are you facing away? It's freezing," he grumbled almost in a petulant voice. You nearly rolled your eyes, until you felt his strong arms wrap around your middle from behind.

"Why are you hugging me? We’re not usually this touchy after sex."

"I'm telling you, I'm cold, and you're my heat pillow."

"You're so damn insufferable..."

Despite your sharp retort, a smile found its way to your face. Moments like this were rare, and when he was the one seeking you, you couldn't help these butterflies in your stomach. Still...

You two are not in love, dammit. Sometimes it confused you a great deal. What is love anyway?

“Caw, caw, caw!”

“Mephisto, shush.”

Sylus’ robotic pet crow had surprisingly taken a liking to you shortly after you began living in the base. He obeyed your commands just as he did with his owner. The same couldn’t be said for Miss Hunter though, as Mephisto seemed to have a strong dislike for her.

You were idling at the living room with the crow when you realized how close it was to dawn.

“Luke, Kieran,” you called to the twins, who were bickering over a crate of oranges, frowning. “Where did Sylus go?”

Both stopped and looked at you, and Kieran blurted out, “Boss? Oh, he went out with Miss Hunter!”

You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised, but you were nonetheless. “And he still hasn’t come back?”

“Ah, yeah... but I think they just went on a short errand. He’s probably back or already on his way?” Luke mused, and you clicked your tongue.

It irritated you, it gnawed at you—how Sylus had been spending so much time with that hunter these days. He was trying to make her resonate with him, but still, the way you saw it, he was going through his playbook—

Just as he had done when he pursued you.

Calling her “kitten”, “sweetie”... everything he did with her seemed like a replay of the first year you spent in this place.

Deep down, perhaps you had hoped that, in some way, Sylus would see you as you saw him. Love might be out of reach in your bleak existences, but you at least wished he would consider you an irreplaceable presence.

You were petty, and you knew it.

“Mephisto,” you whispered to the cooing crow as it turned to you pliantly. “Go find and bother her, okay? Don’t let her out of your sight,” you added, letting the bird fly away on your command.

Deciding to rest in his room, you left the living room with a sense of exhaustion. You had stayed up for Sylus on a whim, as he had promised to share his plans for the upcoming auction soon. However, sleeping at dawn was giving you frequent headaches, and the habit was wearing on you.

You took a bath and then headed to his bedroom, and you would have never guessed what scene you'd walk into—

Sylus, in his bathrobe, and that girl… nestled against his chest on his bed. The very same bed where you two made out just the other night.

“Y/N?” Sylus looked at you over the girl’s shoulder, and you were frozen on the spot, feeling an indescribable rush of emotions washing over you.

In the next moment, the hunter girl scrambled away from him in panic, her face flushed with shame. “I-it’s not what it looks like! I swear! Sylus— I was just trying to find his brooch and—!”

In that instant, something inside you turned ice-cold. Her frantic explanations—none of it registered to you. The fact that he let her into his bed was enough for you.

You weren’t sure if Sylus noticed, but your eyes darkened, your fists clenched, and a storm raged within your chest.

“Sorry for intruding,” you said frostily, cutting her off and casting a contemptuous glance at both of them before turning on your heel and slamming the door shut.

It was no use, you finally realized. In this twisted relationship you two shared, there could never be anything more than hot sex and flirtations.

Somehow it hurt more deeply than you expected, as though your heart were being scorched. Yet, you couldn’t even find the tears to cry—as you weren't allowed to do so.

Sylus noticed the change in you immediately.

You vanished from the base and returned in the evening, not sparing him even a look and he could tell then that you had come back a different woman.

And it was the part he hated the most. These days, he couldn't read you at all.

"Luke and Kieran, keep an eye on her tonight," he instructed his two underlings as the two of them were getting ready.

"Who? Miss Hunter?" Luke questioned.

"Or the missus?" Kieran supplied.

Both of them liked you as well. Unlike him, you’d spend your free time indulging their nonsense, and over time, they even gave you that friendly moniker.

They didn't really know the nature of your physical relationship though. Or at least, didn't really know fully.

"The latter," Sylus gruffly replied, and then he went to the hunter girl to prepare her as well.

He had a justified explanation. If you had asked him, he would tell you nothing had happened. Your ire was better than silence, definitely a hundred times better than this.

But why didn't you come to him?

And why does he want you to come and demand him for an explanation?

However, tonight was the auction for the Aether Core. He had to finish this first before he could get a word with you later.

At least that was what Sylus had thought... until he saw you at the auction venue.

You were stunning in that black cocktail dress. He didn’t know when you had your hair done, but you looked as if you had spent the entire day preparing for this occasion despite having barely two hours after coming back. You were definitely a head-turner, drawing the attention of many vermin as you navigated the ballroom with grace and everlasting smile.

And it grated at him. Severely. Sylus's eyes were locked on each lowlife hell-bent on taking his life and desperate to get into your pants, knowing he would end them all tonight.

...and as if it wasn't enough, he then saw you entertaining one of them with that sort of smile you used to reserve for him.

. . .

"Mm-hm, really?"

"Yes, I've heard they are inside the safe number 209."

You coyly smirked, looking the man with mask in front of you, whom you had led to a deserted hallway, who had been complying and smiling at each and every question of yours.

"Thank you then." You flashed him your best smile, about to go back to the main hall.

"And uh, miss," he suddenly turned to you in a flurry. "I believe I haven't gotten your name—"

You chuckled, facing him again. "Oh, you want to know my name?"

"Very much so!"

This was like bread and butter to you. You effortlessly wrapped an arm around the man's neck, standing on your tiptoes, and whispered in his ear:

"Halt."

He went rigid the moment the command left your lips, and you could feel his panic rising as you pulled away.

"W-what happened—!?" he thrashed against the invisible hold manifested by your Evol in pure panic, to no avail, whereas you regarded at him with a cold smile.

"What a shame. I planned to let you be, but then you gave me the perfect opportunity." You maintained your eerie smile as you pulled out a thin, needle-like blade from the hem of your dress. "You have been a great help. Thank you."

With that, you slit his throat, and blood splattered onto the ground in a continuous pool as he jerked, collapsing like a broken statue.

You felt nothing at the sight, but you knew you weren't alone as you felt his presence.

"You started the party without me?" Sylus' deep voice resonated through the hall. "Didn't know you have that much of bloodlust this early, sweetie."

The clench of your heart was still there, even when you had decided to discard all your lingering feelings for this man. Still, you put on the perfect poker face when you met his eyes.

"I want this to be over and done with quick. I'm exhausted already."

Sylus eyed you calmly, yet somehow it felt as if the depths of those red eyes were trying to assess your soul. "Your actions said otherwise. Is flirting with him necessary?"

"You're one to talk, Boss," you scoffed at the last word. "As long as it entertains me, why isn't it?"

Sylus didn't deign you with an answer, and you decided to pour more oil into it.

"Strictly professional, no?" You lifted your chin defiantly. "Last I checked, we were not supposed to meddle in personal affairs—"

You didn't realize it until he did, because the next thing you knew, his right eye suddenly glowed with that terrifying shade of crimson. "You—!"

He has seen it all. In the three years since he took you in, Sylus had never used his Aether Core-infused right eye on you to peek into your mind. The first and only time it had happened was when he restrained you from attacking him on the day you first met.

This was the second time. And now, he knows. Of your petty feelings, of your deepest, truest desire.

At first, Sylus remained silent, but then his eyes narrowed at you, low voice booming through the hall.

"Jealousy is unbecoming on you, Y/N."

And after all that he knew, that was the only thing he could come up with?

You felt shame wash over you. You wanted to run from him. This was too much because he most definitely didn’t reciprocate your feelings, did he?

"I don't want to hear it," you resolved, the space around you felt constricting all of a sudden. You walked past him, about to break into a sprint—

Sylus immediately caught a hold of your arm though, sending a glare at you. "You—"

"It ends here," you blurted in heat. "I don't want it anymore. We're through, Sylus."

"Listen to me!"

He snarled at you, and it was the very first time he did so. However, you paid him no mind and pulled out your ace card, staring hard into his eyes. You could feel the start of his black and red mist, but your Evol was faster—

"Move."

His hold on you loosened, and he jerked back several foot away from the impact. You kept your manipulation on him, avoiding his fury-blazed eyes, bolting away before he could catch you.

. . .

The night escalated so much worse than you had imagined. Explosions and a sudden appearance of an Arbiterwings threw the whole auction into chaos.

You were fighting off the sudden wave of wanderers alone, relying solely on your blade since your voice was too hoarse to use your Evol. When one of them struck you and sent you crashing into a wall, you just sat there in a daze.

It was exhausting. Usually, Sylus would be by your side, covering your back at the very least. He wouldn't let a single scratch get to you. His black and red mist of doom would dominate the battlefield, offering you protection while at it.

You loved that bastard. It was so beyond stupid. Why did you have to ruin everything by having these feelings? If your heart was gone, would these feelings go with it too?

You got your answer sooner than you thought.

White-hot pain engulfed you when something impaled you right in the chest. The searing agony was mind-blinding, the only thing you could discern was your own wails.

No, the feelings didn’t go. Even as you teetered on the brink of death, that damned love only evolved into many regrets.

And in your final moments, you could've sworn you felt the exact moment your heart stopped beating.

"Oh my god! Luke! She is here!"

"Kieran...! Is she alive?!"

"So much blood—! Luke, call Boss! Call Boss here!"

"Boss! We found her!"

"What do we do?! Shit! It's right... in her heart..."

"What!? Boss! S-she is...! Oh lord..."

You had a dream, and it was of your first meeting with Sylus.

Three years ago, in the wasteland of N109 Zone, you were a mere scavenger until he found you. You had thought he was a threat much like others in this lawless city, so you unwittingly showcased your Evol before him in defense, until he pinned you down on the hard ground, crimson eyes holding you in place.

"I'm giving you two options: go with me and live, or die here in vain," he had told you then, a smug smile on his face. "I assure you, so long as you're still useful to me, you won't have to worry about food or roof above your head ever again."

What kind of homeless person would refuse that tempting offer?

Since you followed him, Sylus had never been untrue to his word. He made good of his words, idly engaged you in his circle, showered you with gifts, and at one point—

"You're... trying to tempt me, aren't you?" he growled amidst kisses, pinning you on his desk. Apparently, seeing you up close and personal every day in his home had worn down his patience. He was just a man, after all.

You wickedly giggled, even breathless, cradling both sides of his face and admiring those ruby eyes of his. "What if... I am?"

"Then consider me tempted, little kitten," he chuckled, his baritone voice casting a spell over you. "Remember though, curiosity can kill most cats."

Thus began your thrilling relationship, and you knew you would gladly stay with him just to have a taste of that heaven. And you knew too, he wouldn't cast you easily this way.

And of course, so long as you are useful to him, that is.

When you came to, you felt warm, and your position was so comfortable that you were almost lulled back to sleep.

At first, it didn't register to you where you were. The scene before you was so familiar, but you were so lethargic that you were late to recognize it.

"Awake?"

Sylus' bedroom. The realization dawned on you as that deep, low voice questioned you flatly. You jerked instinctively, looking up at him as he came into view, holding a glass of wine.

He was still the same. Even with you out of commission, he would still indulge himself with his wine. Somehow you couldn't really pinpoint what you should feel about it.

However, Sylus then did the thing you didn't expect him to. He went back to his pantry to get a glass of water, and then he came to your side to prop you up.

"Drink," he commanded, positioning the glass on your chapped lips. You complied and did so, feeling relief for your throat. Once you were finished, he gently laid you back on the bed and tucked you in, never once taking his eyes off you.

"How are you feeling?"

"Have been better," you quipped dryly. Then it dawned on you that he had never been this gentle with you before. He was showing care, which confirmed one theory you had about him: Sylus could be considerate when he chose to be.

The very fact that you ended back here didn't really faze you much, because in the end, you belonged to him out of all people. Just one thing that still didn't make sense in your mind: "What did you do?"

His burgundy eyes squared at you. "What?"

"There’s no way I could've survived that," you mumbled, trying to gauge his reaction. "You must’ve done something."

“Ha, when it comes to these things, you’re sharp,” Sylus said with a light scoff, and you frowned.

"Answer me."

"Aether Core," he supplied. "It was now in you, repairing your coronary system."

"You..." you were rendered speechless. "You—what? You infused my heart with a Protocore...?"

Just like the one in his eye, he had implanted you with that dangerous fragment that was from something as horrific as a Wanderer. The very thought made your breath hitch.

"Stay calm," he commanded, his hand found yours when he noticed your horrified expression, squeezing it as if to provide some sort of reassurance. "You'll be fine."

"H-how... why..."

"That was your only chance, or you would’ve been dead." Sylus' tone was harsher now, his jaw set firmly. "I keep telling you not to rush in carelessly, and yet you did. Did you even know how bad your state was when I found you? No, you didn't."

The way he spoke made you feel as though you were being blamed, and overwhelmed with your frustration, you retorted sharply, "No one asked you to save me."

Awkward silence lingered for a good one minute after your jab. You turned away from him, feeling conflicted, because you knew you should be grateful that he did so, because it meant the Aether Core inside you now was the one he had been looking for in that auction.

He gave it up to save you.

Still, it confused you.

“If I died...” you began, bitterness creeping into your voice. “Then it just means I’m no longer useful to you. You always discard things that no longer serve your purpose.”

You turned back to him, meeting his impassive gaze. “So why? Did you pity me after discovering my feelings? Is that why?”

There are many labels in your relationship. Master and servant. Onychinus leader and his right-hand woman. But you were also his lover, even unsaid. Was that fact that did it? Or a mere charity for the weak, you?

Suddenly, Sylus placed his palm over your chest, right where your heartbeat pulsed. You stiffened, bracing for some sort of impact.

But no, it wasn’t anything sensual like he usually did. His hand—large and warm—was a comforting presence, resting on your chest and feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Haven't I told you that I never act out of pity?" Sylus' voice was strained but softer than usual, his deep burgundy eyes holding yours. "Do you really need me to spell it out?"

You didn't dare to look away, for the moment of truth was right in front of you.

"My only regret is not being able to pull you back," he said quietly, his tone somber. "I shouldn't have let you get hurt."

Oh. You blinked, taking in his sincere words, something inside you softening and warming at his words.

You had noticed it too. Despite his roguish exterior, he had always looked after you during your time together. It was just that you hadn’t dared to hope for more.

“The naughty little kitten has managed to worm her way into me, it seems,” he chuckled then, flashing you that cocky smile. “So now, she has to be held responsible for her actions.”

His red gaze narrowed as he added. “Moreover, since I have saved your life— you owe it to me not to throw it away so easily. So you can’t rush into danger carelessly again, you hear?”

Those playful remarks were enough to dispel your doubts and insecurities. They answered everything you had been questioning, and knowing it, finally you let out a relieved sigh and exasperated snort. “You shameless bastard...”

And when he leaned in to place a fleeting, innocent kiss on your forehead, you realized that, in his own way, he saw you just as you saw him, even if only a little.

Sylus settled into the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and letting your head rest on his arm. Tonight, there were no passionate kisses, no steamy foreplay, or dirty talks— just you being alive and well in his embrace.

“How long have I been out?”

“Three weeks, woman. Luke and Kieran keep mourning you everyday.”

“Three weeks?! How did you manage without me for that long?”

Sylus glanced at you, a contented smile on his face as he held you close. “It’s been horrid.”

Neither of you would be caught dead saying “I love you”, and yet, regardless, you knew that right this moment meant so much more.

[thinkinonsense]

FANTASIZE❦

old!logan howlett x fem!reader

*mdni

cw: cursing, nsfw, age gap (reader is twenty-five)

wc: 1k+

a/n: i have no idea where this came from. i was supposed to be working on something completely different but apparently, this needed to be written first instead. yes it is inspired by the unreleased ariana grande song.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Logan couldn't read minds. He never longed for the ability or power; he was better off not knowing what others had going on in their heads. He only wanted to peek into someone's mind when he caught your twinkling eyes lingering in his direction. Luckily, he could still read your mind even without the mutation because your fantasies were written all over your face.

It was obvious to anyone caught in the same room as you and Logan, that there was tension. You burned holes all over his body with your intense gaze. If Logan was in the mood to entertain your little crush, he could compliment you in a way that was sure to make you blush.

"Good form today, kid."

"Lookin' pretty today, sweetheart."

"Lemme fix that lipstick, dollface." That one left you with an ache in between your thighs as his thumb brushed your lower lip. "Can't have you walkin' around here a mess, now can we?"

Logan wasn't sure if he would ever make it to heaven but seeing your lip tremble with need was close enough for him.

If he saw you in a dress with a pair of mary-jane's, he would try to catch a glimpse of your underwear in the reflection of your shoes. It didn't always work but it made him feel young again.

No one was brave enough to address it due to him being twice your age. Despite being twenty-five years old and already having graduated from the school, it was still considered taboo to some. If anyone asked Logan about it, he would brush it off as a schoolgirl crush that you would eventually grow out of.

It was truly harmless he thought. You got the attention you craved and Logan got to see a pretty young woman squirm in her seat because of him. It never went further than flirtatious comments and lingering stares.

❦

Today might be the worst day of your life. You and Logan were being sent out together on a mission to find a mutant that lived two hours away. It wasn't the mission that worried you; it was being stuck in a tiny car with only Logan for one hundred and twenty minutes.

"Why aren't 'cha talkin', dollface?" Logan asked, almost teasingly.

For almost twenty minutes, he was aware of your eyes watching his hand hold the wheel. Logan was also incredibly aware of the effect it had on you. A little broken sigh escapes you when his hand clenches tighter around the leather, making his veins pop even more.

"Too busy fantasizing 'bout me?"

No matter how much you tried to find someone your age to be with, your heart always went back to Logan. He treated you differently than anyone you've ever met. Sure, sometimes he made you feel like a kid but he also knew you could handle your own. Logan wouldn't let anyone underestimate you; that kept you crawling back to him.

"Maybe I am." You shrug, fed up with his games.

"Oh, yeah?" He says, taking a deep inhale of your sent. "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours, hm?"

You were used to Logan's overly confident personality that he tried to use to intimidate you; and make you stumble over your words. It wasn't gonna work this time. Logan wanted you just as much as you wanted him, but you needed him to admit it first.

"Us in the backseat of the car." You admit, biting the inside of your cheek nervous for his response.

"Really? And what are we doing back there?" He asked, cocking his head curiously as his eyes remained glued to the road.

"You're on top of me, makin' me feel good." Your words were coy but that was the point. Logan liked being the tease; having all the power.

"Keep talkin', dollface."

There it was. You had him right where you wanted him.

You pretended to think about it for a moment before shaking your head and telling him, "No, I shouldn't"

"Why not?"

"Because an old man like yourself can't keep up with me, right? At least that's what I heard you tell the Professor."

Logan couldn't believe you had heard their conversation earlier this week. The Professor was the only person who knew the truth of how Logan felt towards you. When Charles asked him what was stopping him from pursuing you, all Logan had to say was, "I'm too old for her; can't keep up with such a young thing like her".

Which was far from the truth.

"So obsessed with me that you're listenin' to my conversations now?" He growled, pulling the car over.

"Stop acting like you aren't obsessed with me too." You smile at him. "I know a few pairs of my underwear 'mysteriously' disappear from my hamper. I know that you can hear me through the walls late at night, panting your name."

With each sentence, you inch closer to him. Logan could only compare you to the snake in Eve's garden; encouraging him to give into his temptations.

"I also know that you want me." Your eyes were dark with desire, making his pants tighter. "So, if you can't get it up or claim that you don't want me then that's fine with-"

Logan fumed with irritation and lust. Not thinking twice before slamming your lips into yours. He tasted exactly like you imagine; tobacco and mint. You were addicted; no one could ever compare to him.

In a rush, his rough hands pulled you into his inviting lap before one cupped your jaw and his other made its way up your skirt, toying with your lacy underwear. He wasn't going to give it to you that easily.

"L-Logan, please," You moan against his mouth, trying to create some friction on his lap. "Need it."

God, he's waited a long time to hear that; to see you so desperate in his arms. When he pulled back to look at you, Logan couldn't be more pleased with the image in front of him. Your eyes shut tightly, face scrunched, trying to concentrate, and lips pouty with annoyance. Logan removes his hand under your skirt; causing the prettiest whine to escape you. He thought you might be what finally kills him.

"We aren't done, sweetheart." He groaned in your ear. "Get in the backseat because you are gonna tell me every single one of your fuckin' fantasies."

[ipso-faculty]

There's now an Intersex Wiki! 🎉

So I got tired of the Sisyphean task of trying to make existing wikis like Wikipedia more informative about intersex. I also was feeling that there isn't really one central place for intersex content to get archived, especially if Tumblr goes down. It felt like it was time that we the intersex community had our own wiki.

And, it's live! You can find it at intersex.wiki!

It's still very young and under development, but we just passed the 100 article mark 🥳 and I thought I'd share! Here's our glossary page as a starting point:

It would be really lovely to get some more regular contributors to the wiki! If you have anything you'd like documented about your intersex variation, knowledge about intersex history, local intersex organizations, or intersex representation, it'd be appreciated! 💜

I've been mostly focusing on growing the number of articles, and which means that the main article on Intersex could really use some expansion and refinement. 💜

Proofreading is also appreciated. 💜

Please note that:

You will need to make an account and confirm your email before making any edits, because there is an intense amount of spam/vandalism directed at the wiki (sigh)

You must thoroughly cite all your sources. You can cite Wikipedia. You can cite Tumblr posts. You can even cite your own Tumblr posts. But you must cite your sources. This is an encyclopedia and others need to be able to verify the provenance of your arguments. We use Chicago-style citation.

Wiki content must have educational relevance to the intersex community, and also must be safe for work. (SFW is interpreted as including information about biology/anatomy provided it's in a style/tone suitable for a classroom.)

Note: we have a ban on biographies of living individuals.

The threshold for inclusion of neologisms and flags in the Wiki is: "is this actually used outside of coining posts, glossaries, and wiki entries?" If you want to make an article on a neologism, there needs to be at least one citation demonstrating literally anybody using this term in a naturalistic manner.

Given the wiki is subject to a lot of spam/vandalism, the first few edits you make to the wiki will be sent to a moderation queue and will need to be manually approved. Once you've demonstrated you're not a spammer, that you can cite sources, and not create articles that are outside the scope of the wiki, you'll be added to the list of users whose edits are automoderated.

If you have any difficulty in editing the wiki or getting started, or just wanna talk about the wiki, we have a Discord: https://discord.gg/BBvGUBWqnR

If you have any questions let me know! 💜

[honey-on-your-tongue]

heyyy I was wondering if you could do pornstar! Logan x pornstar! reader, where they're doing a scene together and Logan's being a little more gentle with her and cooing at her and calling her sweet things because she's so blissed out by him fucking her so good. (the reader hasn't been fucked that good in a while) and it ends with them going out or becoming fwb idk.

this is prob the most explicit I've requested so I totally understand if you don't wanna do it, also feel free to take your time thxx

Omg I LOVED this idea!!! I was so inspired ughhh I want this man so baaaad

You have the perfect performance. Perfectly practiced moans, perfectly practiced expressions. You've got it all down, from the curl of your toes to the elegant arch of your back and the tilt of your head against the pillows.

You expect this new shoot to go the same. The usual age-gap thing, you innocent-looking vixen all-too-willing to let an older man fuck you.

You've never filmed with Logan before, but you've seen him around. And you've seen some of his videos.

At least he's hot and well endowed, you think as the sex scene comes up. The makeup artist fixes your makeup some and then you're sent to lie on the bed.

You can feel Logan's eyes on you as you position yourself on the bed. You glance over at him and he gives you a small grin, as if he knows something you don't.

At first, you're expecting the usual. Men that just fuck you like you're a toy and not caring for your pleasure.

But the moment Logan's hands are on you, you can tell it's going to be different.

His fingers trace your body like he's exploring precious, untouched terrain. Like he sees you.

The way he touches you and the way he looks at you like you're some precious thing has you plenty worked up.

His hand moves between your thighs, his breathing heavy. His fingers spread your folds and he groans, leaning down to lick at your entrance.

You shudder, a small gasp leaving you. You're shocked, amazed, exhilarated. Something about this is different—something about him is different.

You actually enjoy yourself. You don't have to fake anything. Every moan that leaves your lips is coerced by him and his talented tongue and fingers.

By the time the scene moves on to the actual sex, you're soaked and ready for him. And more than that, you're eager.

Logan holds your gaze as he slips his hard cock into you slowly. You gasp, he grunts.

“Fuck. So tight,” he says lowly as he starts thrusting.

He gives slow, long, deep strokes that almost feel like torture. He lets you feel every fucking inch of him with each thrust.

It feels so good that you almost forget about the cameras and the microphones and the crew that's recording and watching.

It feels so good that you allow yourself to get lost in the moment and you just feel it all.

You're moaning, hands grabbing onto his shoulders with a fierce grip as you try your best to remember the script. But no, you're too out of it. So Logan takes over.

“Yeah, baby, I know.” He chuckles as he grabs your leg and wraps it around his waist so he can fuck you deeper. “I know you like my cock in you, you ain't gotta say it.”

You whine, nails digging into his skin. “Fuck!” you squeal, words barely understandable through the mewls of ecstasy you let out.

“Such a good girl, hm? So obedient f’r me.”

You gasp, body trembling.

He smirks. “Can you say my name f’r me, darling? Hm?”

You mumble incoherently, remembering your lines from somewhere deep in your mind. You just can't say them. Literally. He's fucking you dumb.

“C'mon, baby, you can do better than that,” Logan taunts, kissing your neck. “Do better.”

You whimper, gasping, struggling to say the simple word you know he's wanting to hear.

He grabs your leg and moves it from around his waist to rest on his shoulder. He stops fucking you and lets you catch your breath. “Say it, bub.”

You meet his gaze through half-lidded eyes and say, “Daddy.” You're surprised at how hoarse your voice is. How long has he been fucking you for? It feels like it'll never be enough.

“Atta girl.” He grins, his cock twitching in you when he takes in the expression on your face. He starts fucking you again, harder and deeper this time, with more intention.

You're gasping, moaning, blubbering. And Logan fucks you harder.

You can feel that tight coil in your womb as the pleasure grows and spreads and threatens to take you over.

One of Logan's enormous hands comes down on top of your womb and he presses down. “I'm right in here. Can you feel me? Can you feel my cock so deep in this pretty cunt of yours?”

And that's it. That's all it takes for you to come on his cock. Your mind goes blank and you see stars.

Fuck the elegant arch of your back and the carefully practiced curl of your toes. Fuck the expressions you're supposed to make. You lose it. Your orgasm is messy and needy and intense and raw, and you love it.

By the time you come back to, Logan's already pulled out and come on your thighs, as per the script. He's already put on his robe and is drinking some water.

You sit up, body sore and exhausted, and the assistants are quick to help you into your robe and hand you some water.

You're still trying to get your bearings when Logan walks over to you. He smiles down at you as you sit on the edge of the bed and he holds out a piece of paper.

You take it. It has his number on it.

“’f you ever want a proper fuck again, bub, just call me up.”

---

Blog masterlist

[pathologicalreid]

central nervous system | s.r.

in which you are drugged on what should've been a routine case

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; hurt/comfort content warnings: being drugged, threatened sexual assault, season 10, blood, broken glass, in a bar but reader doesn't drink, jareau!reader. word count: 1.7k a/n: oh dear. this week was so eternally long. work was crazy busy i worked overtime and almost ended up in the hospital which all led up to me taking the lsat today. crazy shit, but margovember will prevail. also! i'm hoping to get masterlists updated tomorrow if that's something you've been waiting on.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” an unfamiliar voice intrudes on your private thoughts, looking around the bar that you had been planted in to see if you could catch your UnSub before he had the chance to attack someone else.

He sets a glass in front of you, and you drop some cash on the wooden surface, you shrug, “I’m in town on business.”

The bartender laughs heartily at your response before shaking his head, “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just—that’s a line I hear a lot.”

Your face warms at the recognition that the bartender was flirting with you, but this is a man who gets paid to be nice. You take his words at face value and sip at your drink, “Well, I have no reason to lie to you,” you squint at his name tag, “Jackson.”

He wipes down a spill, hooking the rag over the sink, and smiling at you, “Well, it’s nice to meet an honest woman.”

Following him with your eyes as he walks away, that last comment rubs you the wrong way, but Jackson Gleason was the bar manager, and Garcia had already cleared him from the suspect list.

You find yourself wishing Hotch had sent you into the bar with an earbud to communicate with the team, but instead, you were handed a phone, preprogrammed to alert the team if you hit the power button. There was a plainclothes officer somewhere in a corner to keep an eye on you, and the rest of the team was at the precinct or in an unmarked van outside.

Kate had coached you to the best of her abilities, but this wasn’t your first time going undercover. Catching serial rapists was more her speed, but she was pregnant, which immediately took her out of the running. Sipping from the thin straw in your glass, you let your eyes wander around the bar, antique posters and advertisements are littered across the walls, and someone just started playing Radiohead on the jukebox.

Eyeing the phone in your purse, you sigh, stirring the ice in your cup listlessly.

“Can I get you another? Maybe something stronger?” The manager offers, returning from the employees-only door with a new package of straws to restock the bar.

You shake your head, holding your empty glass out of him to take, “The same thing is fine.” Ignoring the fact that you don’t drink—you couldn’t drink on the job; all you’d been given was a coke.

He raises his eyebrows at that, “Suit yourself,” he says, ignoring the fact that you were trying to hand off your already dirtied glass to him and filling a clean cup with ice and coke.

Brushing it off as company policy, you thank him for the drink, placing another few dollars on the bar and smiling at him. Over your shoulder, you glance at the plainclothes officer, engaging in an animated conversation with another patron over whatever sports game is playing on the TV. You suspect he’s a little too good at pretending to be off the clock.

You make a face at the straw in your glass, and the bartender notices, “Sorry, just ran out of plastic.”

Taken aback, you use the paper straw anyway, sipping at your drink while you still can—knowing the straw will inevitably disintegrate.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice something wrong, a dull ache in your chest exacerbated by a slight rise in your body temperature. Your fingertips feel hot like they would after coming inside from the cold. You look down to find the emergency phone in your purse, but your head droops with your eyes, every controlled movement before a struggle.

“Hey,” Gleason says, jutting his chin in your direction, “You don’t look so great.”

A different version of yourself would’ve given him snark in return, but that different version of yourself would’ve been able to feel her extremities. “Woah,” You breathe, trying to swing your legs off of the stool only to find that you’re much higher from the ground than you initially thought.

When you lift your head again, whipping it back so hard you’re afraid it might fly off, he’s standing directly in front of you, “Why don’t I take you out back? You can get some fresh air,” the offer is innocent enough, but it rubs you the wrong way. His hand is on your waist, at the very least you know that’s wrong—you have a boyfriend, and it’s not this guy.

No, your boyfriend is outside of the bar in a van, waiting for your signal because you’re… oh. “No,” you whisper, trying to get your breathing under control. “I’m— Where’s my phone?” You’re digging through your purse as he stands you up and guides you to the back of the bar, closer to a large exit sign.

Sirens are going off in your head, but even they sound separated from your situation. “I can call a cab for you,” he assures you, leading you by your arm and closer to the back door.

“No,” you say again, “I really need my phone…” his grip tightens on your wrist, practically dragging you out of the bar while you use your free hand to find your phone, pushing the power button before it slips out of your hand, clattering to the ground. “That really hurts,” you tell him, now able to give more of your focus to evading the man who was most decidedly not Jackson Gleason.

Pulling your arm back, you manage to break free from him, the momentum from your struggle sends your hand flying into a picture frame, shattering the glass and causing the UnSub to spin on his heel. “Look at what you did,” he seethes, gripping your hair at the back of your head and forcing you to look at the shattered glass.

Your mouth gapes at the sensation of your hair being pulled until there’s a rush of cold air and he pushes you forward, into the waiting arms of someone else, “Woah, hey, I’ve got you,” Spencer says, keeping you off of the floor and, with the help of someone else, carrying your dead weight over to one of the booths.

Spencer clambers into the booth seat first, seating you in front of him so that your back is pressing against his chest. You let out a low groan when he wraps an arm around your waist, keeping your body from flopping onto the sticky hardwood.

“Do you know what you took?” He asks, pressing his face into your hair so that the two of you can keep your voices down.

Vaguely aware of the way his fingers are pressing into the pulse point on your wrist, you shake your head, “I didn’t take anything.”

He hums in response, “You were drugged. I— I’m so sorry we didn’t realize who it was sooner. By the time we realized there was a discrepancy in Jackson Gleason’s file, you had already pushed the alert button,” he tells you, being careful not to move around too much. “Can you lift your head for me? It’ll help your breathing.”

With tremendous effort—and some help from Spencer—you lift your head, letting it rest on him. Now, you can see that the majority of the bar has cleared out, Rossi watches you nervously from the bar, telling Spencer something about paramedics. You huff, “Where’s JJ?”

“She’ll meet us at the hospital, love,” he answers you, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

Trying to adjust yourself, you shake your head indeterminably, “No, it’s… I need my sister. I need my sister.” Somewhere—a past version of yourself, perhaps—you knew that JJ was at the hospital, speaking with one of the survivors.

Spencer speaks with someone that you can’t see, they’re standing in your periphery, a mangled blur of a person. Moments later, something cold is pressed to your face, and the sensation makes you jump, “Ow,” you whine, though it doesn’t hurt.

“Ducky?” Your sister’s voice rings through the phone, and you’re surprised to hear her using your nickname. Although, your status as JJ’s little sister tends to come through when you’re hurt.

You hum into the receiver, “Hi, J,” you greet wearily.

A sigh of relief is her next response, “Hey, Derek said you’re waiting for the paramedics to take you to the hospital, and I’ll be here to greet you when you arrive. Does that sound alright?”

“It’s cold in here,” you mumble, wondering if Derek is the blurry shape remaining in your periphery.

There’s a pause on her end before she speaks up again, “I’m sorry, Ducky.” There it was again. “You’ll be okay though; you just have to wait it out.”

You nod as a jacket is laid out on your lap; Spencer must’ve heard you mention being cold to your sister. Your boyfriend whispers something to you, “Spencer says the paramedics are here and I can’t talk to you anymore.”

JJ laughs slightly on the phone, “I’ll see you when you get here, okay?”

“Yeah, J,” you whisper, letting someone take the phone from you. You frown at Spencer, “I don’t feel quite right.”

Helping you get on the gurney, Spencer holds your hand while an EMT wraps a blood pressure cuff around your arm, “He likely gave you a central nervous system inhibitor.”

You nod slowly, wrinkling your nose when the other paramedic shines a light in your eyes, “I am nervous,” you answer. Trying to listen to the medical personnel as they explain what’s going on, but it all goes in one ear and out the other. One of them crudely wraps a cut on your hand to staunch the bleeding, but you couldn’t even remember when it started to bleed.

Anxiously, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. “Don’t bite down on your lip,” Spencer instructs, “You could bite right through it and not even realize.”

Releasing your lip, your eyes widen at him while he pulls a blanket over your shoulders. “That’s scary,” you whisper.

“I agree,” he says, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “It is scary.”

[chilumi-shipper]

A prompt came into mind.. up to you if you're interested.

So, character and reader got married but character cheated because he said he doesn't love the reader anymore. They're technically done, but haven't finished doing the divorce files (because it's expensive and takes a long long time). But.. character got into an accident.. which made him forget everything that happened recently, and only remember the days he loved the reader. Reader's conflicted, the mistress that character has doesn't know what to do either. Character was confused on why he would marry anyone else when he has the reader fo begin with.

I think this fits your styles.

Btw, I LOVE ALL YOUR STORIES! I RE-READ THEM EVERYDAY-

Someone Better

Childe x Fem!Reader

Summary: Childe was a wild spirit, so when he got bored of your relationship, he sought the excitement of another woman. You were heartbroken, ultimately asking for a divorce. But just as your connection was almost severed, he got into an accident, losing every memory of his infidelity and returning to the man that made you fall in love him.

Tags: Cheating, Amnesia, Pining, Angst/No Comfort

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You were staring at the tremendous amount of divorce paperwork sitting on the desk of your hotel room.

It was very complicated, five years of marriage with joined insurance, property, bank accounts, and now you have to meticulously separate all your joined assets, all while constantly on the verge of a breakdown.

Not to mention you had no family to stay with in Snezhnaya. There's absolutely no one you could talk to about everything, you've left your homeland thinking your future in the cold nation with the love of your life would be nothing less that fantasy.

As you rest your head on the desk and closed your eyes tightly to ease the headache, your ears perk up as loud knocks hit your door.

With a groan, you got up and opened it to reveal your two of Childe's older siblings.

"He's looking for you." The older sister said, Alevtina, her seriousness evident, looking at you somewhat panicked.

"I know, big si-" I paused for a moment, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples. "I'm working on the assets, I'll send it as soon as possible."

"No." The chilly tone of the older brother, Alexei, sent shivers down your spine. "You need to come with us."

...

"Big sister Y/N is here?" You hear Teucer's innocent voice as you enter their home. The younger children laid their eyes on you, seemingly eager to come closer, but perhaps they've been told that now would not be the time.

"Honey... Thank you for coming..." Their mother embraced you warmly, still accepting you with motherly affection. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry..."

"Mama, has he calmed down?" Alexei asked from behind you.

Your mother-in-law parts from you slightly, looking at you tenderly. "She will definitely help."

You put your confusion and questions aside, seeing the somewhat tense air within the house.

"Stop staring." You weren't looking at him, but you felt his eyes watching you set down a tray of soup and medicine on his bedside table.

Childe lets out a chuckle. "Sorry, love, I can't help it..." His eyes never faltered, containing a look of admiration that you've been unfamiliar with for so long.

"After the avalanche, I got a pretty bad head injury. When I woke up, you were the first thing on my mind. And when Mama said you weren't here with me, I freaked out."

You sat down on a chair next to his bed, your eyes observing the bandages wrapped around his head. "What did the doctor say about your injury?"

"I'm gonna get some very bad headaches, and I also got a bit of amnesia, I think." Childe looks as if he's in thought. "Do I seem like I forgot something?"

"Maybe some things..."

"But I love you just the same! So I bet what I forgot wasn't even that important!"

...How cruel.

Having to take care of the man that broke you apart, even worse, a version of him that you loved too much to despise.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

It was painful, staying with him.

Childe would keep you close, call you his different pet names, cuddle up to you, all while you were under the pitiful gaze of his family that knew of his infidelity.

On the other hand, he's been feeling the cold responses his advances have been receiving. But to him, he thinks he can solve it by smothering you in more of his love.

He is pretty observant, he's put it two in two together that he may be missing a memory in which he had done something wrong. He just didn't know how much it had hurt.

Though, not only from you, Childe had also felt that his younger siblings seem distant as well, no longer asking him to play snow games outside, or looking up to him as some sort of hero.

One early morning, when he walks up to the kitchen to see you cooking for the whole family, a smile formed on his face.

He steps closer, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist. "Hmmm... Morning, honey..." He basks in the feeling of you.

You remain quiet, letting him do as he pleases. The ginger frowns, however, feeling unsatisfied by your lack of reaction.

"Babyyyy... Loveee meee backkkk..." He whines, nuzzling his face on your neck.

"Ajax, come on..." You stifled a laugh, moving slightly away as his action tickled you. He hears the slight giggle of your words, smiling against your skin.

You compose yourself, pushing him away from you. "Stop." He lets you push him away, and you feel him freeze slightly at the harshness of your tone.

His blue eyes looked at you worried. "...Hey," He starts. "I'm sorry, darling, did you not like that?"

With a sigh, you looked down. "When the others wake up, tell them I already made breakfast. I have somewhere to be."

You walk pass him, but you did not miss the hurt tone of the faint call of your name.

...

You come back to his family's home after doing some more paperwork for the divorce that your husband doesn't even remember, feeling your head pounding as you ready yourself to face him again.

What you don't expect to see this late at night is Childe sitting on the porch with a lantern next to him, his head hung low as if he's thinking deeply.

"Childe?"

He looks up, but he frowns at you. "Ajax, darling..." He reminds you.

Standing up, he pulls you into his warm embrace. "I love you... I missed you..."

His words take you aback, as you reluctantly wrap your arms around him.

"I've been thinking about this morning, about you. You hate me."

"I know I must've done something... you can tell me." He kneels in front of you, staring at your eyes while his sparkle with the light of the lantern. "And even if I don't remember, I'll make it right..."

As you look down at him, you see the fiery passion of love that burned in his eyes as he knelt down to ask you to marry him so long ago.

It scares you...

You might not be able to control yourself...

"It's just hard to take care of you sometimes." You smile ever so slightly, yet his frown only deepens as tears start to escape your eyes.

He stands, his hand finds its way to your cheek. "Love..." His eyes held such conviction that you've not seen for years. "I'm so sorry..."

You close your eyes to hold in the tears, shaking your head and swaying his hand away. "...You're not."

Despite the tears, you tug at his arm. "Come on, let's head inside."

He's filled with questions, but seeing your sad face makes him set all those aside and focus on you for now.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"Teucer, hey, little man." Childe calls for his little brother.

The little boy looks at him wide eyed. "I don't want to talk to you." He crossed his little arms, turning around to leave with a displeased look.

"What...? Oh come on..." The harbinger pouted, getting down on his little brother's level. "What did I do wrong...? All our siblings are acting so mean to me..." He whined, frowning as he tries to persuade the little ginger.

"But you were also very very mean!" Teucer refused to look at his older brother, the one he used to look up to the most. "We don't like you anymore!"

Childe's playful facade faded as his expression contorted to a confused one. "Hey, what do you mean...?"

"You're so mean to Y/N, you hurt her! She doesn't deserve tha-"

"Teucer!" Just as his brother erupted to a crying mess, screaming at him with all his little heart, their mother walked into the room, grabbing the little boy.

"Don't talk like that to your elders!"

"But it's true, Mama!"

"That doesn't matter, say sorry to-"

"What does he mean, Mama? Why did I do?" Childe looked at his mother expectantly, his voice starting to shake as he saw the fit of rage Teucer had because of him. "W-What did I do to Y/N?"

HIs mother shook her head, trying to ease her expression with a smile. "Nothing..."

"It's not nothing, Mama!" He raises his voice by accident due to his frustration. "I see it, the way she looks at me, it's different. The way you all look at me, like you have a monster inside your house."

Teucer forced his way out of his mother's hold, running to his older siblings room all teary eyed. Childe felt bad, but he desperately needed answers from his mother.

"Mama, please, I need to know why Y/N doesn't... love me anymore..." It hurts him to say, but based on the way you're acting, he could only make the assumption that your feelings have wavered.

"Oh, Ajax... it's not like that..."

The ginger then felt a sharp pain in his head, making him fall down onto the couch. He groaned as he clutched his head.

"Hey... where are you heading off to so late at night?" He hears your soft voice in a static audio playing in his head.

"Out." He then hears himself replying coldly.

"Ohh, when will you-"

He's out the door before you could even finish your question.

"Ajax, honey!' His mother's voice was a hazy blur as he keeps his eyes closed to envision what he's hearing in his head.

He tries to shake the feeling away, but his mind is flooded by fragmented memories.

"You've been going out a lot more recently." Your concerned voice entered his ears.

"I've been busy."

"Busy where?"

He then hears shatters of glass and yells as you sob while trying to talk to him.

He pictures your face, your crying, begging face, asking for some sort of salvation from his cold and merciless actions.

"T-There's someone else?"

"Someone better."

"H-How could y-you do this?"

"When I look at you now... I feel... nothing."

Childe opened his eyes, not realizing that tears had started to flow to his cheeks. "Mama..."

"Y-Yes, dear?"

"I hurt her..." He was in a state of disbelief. "I-I... Why...?"

His tears fell faster, looking at his mother for answers. "W-Why, Mama? Why was I so stupid? Why did I choose to lose her?"

"I don't know, dear, but that's simply what happened, and you could never make her forget that, even if you forgot."

His breathing started to accelerate, feeling like he wanted to punch himself. As his head started spinning, his vision turns black.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You took a deep breath as you walked into the house, feeling everyone's eyes on you as you entered.

"Honey..." Your ex mother-in-law embraces you once again, holding you tight. "I'm so sorry... I didn't want to make it difficult for you..."

"N-No, no..." You returned her hug, sniffling as you start to tear up. "I readied myself for this, I'm just here to drop off the final papers..."

"Could you talk to him?" Alevtina suddenly asked, looking at you hesitantly. "I know he's been a jerk... but he won't eat unless he talks to you."

You parted from their mother, feeling the pressure of their request.

"It's okay to curse him, or to scream, or rough him up, I'll even help you." Alexei placed his hand on your shoulder to comfort you.

You nodded, sighing as they guided you to his room. And as you entered with a heavy feeling in your chest, he immediately sat up, alerted by your presence. You stare at each other for a bit before you muttered a word.

"Hi." You greeted him shortly.

"Hey..." His voice was soft, and his eyes followed you attentively.

"I'm sorry to intrude, I'll make this quick." You breathe deeply, trying to relax yourself. "I finished the papers, split the assets, got the lawyers."

"I talked to her, y-your woman..." You looked down, fidgeting with your hands. Childe seemed unfazed by it, though his gaze seem to falter at the mention of 'his woman'.

"She... umm... wasn't really interested anymore after the accident..." You breathe heavily, feeling small under his gaze. "But... your family's here to take care of you..."

Clearing your throat, you continued. "I do have one request, if I could... I would like a safe boat ride back home." You stepped closer, intending to hand him the envelope that contained all the paperwork to finalize your divorce.

"Take it all." You stopped in your tracks as he spoke.

"The house, the mora, the boat. It's all yours..." He lays back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. "Would you also do me a favor?"

You looked at him, encouraging him to speak.

"Carve my heart out and take it with you."

"...Can we be serious for a second?" You sighed.

"I would like to stay with you. I think that would be a good way to do it without constantly wanting to punch myself." You noticed that his eyes started to flood with tears.

"Ajax... I'm sorry this happened to you..."

"No, Y/N, I'm sorry... I'm sorry for everything." He sat up again, tears falling from his eyes as he looks up at you with genuine eyes. "I don't know why I did that. And I... I regret it so much..." He reached for your hand, and you let him hold onto you for strength.

"Every tear I had in me I already cried when you left me for her." You smiled bitterly, though you remained soft, making him even more guilty as you try to stay strong. "But I appreciate the apology..."

You pull your hand away from him slowly, feeling that he was reluctant to let go.

"I-I still love you..."

You gave him a final smile. "You'll love someone better than me... Childe..." You back away, leaving him alone in his room still yearning for the days where his memory only consisted of loving you.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Hiiii again after quite a while! I think I've been noticing that my recent fics have been angst, I guess I just feel like hurting you guys this season of giving (I give pain :D)

Anywayy, anon, I think at some point I went my own direction and didn't fully stick to your request (I'm sorryyy TvT) but I hope you like it anyway!

[amazinglyashy]

Hello, can you do LADS men's reaction to MC/reader working too hard, to the point that she looks tired and drained? She also easily gets sick because of stress. And yes, it's based on me; right now, I'm so tired because of work, and I have dance practice almost every day for our departmental performance while I'm sick with the flu. Thank you 💜

Sorry for the delay, but I wanted to do this one justice as best as I could, because oh man did I feel this personally! Not the same at all, but I get heavy duty chronic pain, and I overwork myself often by choice or not, all the time. Feel better anon <3 I hope you enjoy, and make sure to get some Pedialyte or sports drinks, and rest whenever you can. Your health is extremely important!

Love and Deepspace Li's reactions to you being overworked and sick

Zayne -

He's a doctor, you can't even get into the realm of hoping to hide it from him for long, and you'll want to hide it from him if you're actually wanting to be doing whatever it is that's causing you to be overworked to the point of illness.

He will take a single look at you the first time he sees you once you've reached this point- routine examination, stopping by work to see you or vice versa, running something by your place he borrowed, even just you making the mistake of taking an offered ride home from him due to how tired you are. It was a lapse in judgement on your part in trying to keep this from him, but your beyond exhausted brain didn't process it at the time.

But you sure are processing it now that you've been 'kidnapped' and taken back to his place.

He has already filled out a formal doctors note- benefits of being your primary physician- and sent it over to your bosses and managers. There's no arguing.

"Zayne, I'm-" "If you are about to try a weak attempt at convincing me you are alright, I will accept it as you insulting my intelligence as a doctor."

You're in his bed, under his blankets, probably in his pajamas since he wouldn't let you escape home, and drinking the warm drink he made for you to have after taking medicine he had given you to help with your illness. He'll order food that will be good for you to eat as well, and if it's too late for takeout, he'll definitely be cooking for you as well.

Once you're done eating, he'll make sure you're properly cared for by massaging any tired or pained muscles. If that's your entire body, then so be it. Close your eyes, tilt hour head back, and relax even though it hurts in a good way sometimes, because he's not letting up.

Not until you feel better. No matter how long that takes.

Rafayel -

Genuinely, he's offended and hurt that you've overworked yourself this hard and haven't told him. And boy, is he going to let you know it.

He's carrying you gently from wherever he had found you looking so tired- no it does not matter if you were in the middle of working- while actively scolding you in his arms.

"Maybe I should just leave you there all day, come see you in the evening when you get a bad case of amnesia. Would you like that? Huh? No? Well, then stop being stupid."

He doesn't even want to dare set foot in your place right now. He's not in the mood to clean, and he knows if this is the state you're in, your apartment is probably so much worse due to just how busy and exhausted you've been.

He'll go clean it later, but right now he's just grumpy.

There is something about the fresh, oceanside air that helps your headache though- or maybe it's the light linen on his bed that he would have dropped you on had you not looked like the most frail thing he had seen all week.

He's muttering snarky remarks to you, but they're devoid of any bite due to his actions as he speaks them-

Getting you a fluffy robe to change into, putting something simple in the oven while you get comfortable, working special lotion into your muscles, making you lemon and honey tea, making it more humid so any sinus problems clear and help you breathe- he's being vocal through it all, but spoiling you as much as he can nonetheless.

"I don't care if you have a lot to do. Just- ask for help next time. And if I can't help with your work, at least let me help you relax once you're home. I don't mind you staying over either, so that I can make you feel better. Just promise me you'll do better next time, so I can help you before you get this bad."

Xavier -

He probably stopped by your apartment to return something he borrowed, and you made the mistake of answering the door directly after coming home. You were at your peak of tired, and your head had started pounding for some reason... and didn't you feel a bit hot...?

"Oh- You look- You don't look very good. Is everything alright?"

You can't even answer before he's reaching out a hand to hover in front of you, trying to decide between touching you and not, before deciding on the former. He can feel you're just the slightest bit unsteady from working so you're being scooped up in an instant and taken to the bed you had already been planning to go to.

"What have they been having you do...? Never mind. That's- not important right now."

Takes off your shoes and socks, murmurs something about giving you a massage in a bit, before tugging blankets and plushies around you. He'll leave to let you change into pajamas or something more comfortable, and he'll keep himself busy by making you something to eat or clean up your apartment for you.

He tries to cook you something, he really does try. But he definitely has more talent at talking on the phone to the restaurant he's ordering you takeout from. The pan he tried to use does not survive the attempt.

The takeout is good when it comes, though, and it helps that he gave you some medicine prior to help keep it down. Even if you're not currently nauseous, he's pretty worried about your state worsening quickly.

You won't notice until it's too late, but he's already finding out how to transfer some of your workload to himself. By 'some', it's definitely 'all'.

"No, I won't change my mind. Not until you're better. You're so tired, let me do this for you. You can make it up to me by getting me something in the claw machine later."

Sylus -

"I'm just going to go-"

"Go where, kitten?"

You had made the mistake of nearly falling over under the watchful gaze of Mephisto, who had decided it would be absolutely wonderful to relay the information about it and your current state back to Sylus as quickly as he could.

Which is how you had ended up stuck in the hallway the led to your apartment, practically pinned to the wall with Sylus's hands on either side of you.

That is also how you ended up slung over Sylus's shoulder as he unlocked your apartment door for you and went inside, carrying you like it was nothing.

To be fair, you couldn't do much to fight him off this time except utilize a few choice words. You were so beyond exhausted, and starting to feel pretty ill, to boot.

He's got you to bed as soon as the door is shut. You're allowed a hot shower if you promise him a few dozen times that you'll get straight to bed after. He makes sure to promise you that he'll come and make you get in bed if you go against that promise. For once, you don't want to call his bluff.

You're in bed soon enough, with a cool rag pressed on your forehead, some pain medication long since down your throat, and food already on the way courtesy of Luke and Kieran's special henchmen delivery service.

Lying in bed is like heaven on your sore muscles and aching joints, not to mention the pounding headache you've had since starting to feel sick and missing out on sleep. But what somehow feels even better is Sylus's hands on you.

They're just gentle touches, his fingertips ghosting over your skin to leave goosebumps at how nice it feels, and sometimes his whole hands moving slowly and lightly across your body. He'll massage your muscles later, but for now, he's just focused on getting you to sleep, even if just for a little bit until the food gets here.

He knows you need it.

[eufezco]

BIRDS OF A FEATHER༄

the tva erased you from your timeline when logan died, you've been living in the void since then.

angst + fluff. no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

you couldn't take your eyes off them.

you were at the table sitting next to logan, on his other side was laura. he held wade's dog while she played with it and you couldn't take your eyes off them. you couldn't believe it. you had to pinch yourself a few times to confirm that you weren't dreaming.

you thought you'd never see a scene like that ever again. the two of them together. how many times you had looked at the sky and cursed the universe for not giving the three of you more time?

when your logan died, the time variance authority decided that the sacred timeline didn't need you anymore so they erased you and sent you to the void. you preferred it that way, you didn't want to live in a timeline in which he was gone but you were also angry because they didn't have to drag little laura to that place with you.

you didn't remember how much time you spent in the void but seeing how laura had grown into a woman, you guessed that it had been a long time since you left your timeline.

when you got to that place, she was just a child. scared, angry, who had just lost the most important person in her life. and you were just the same, except that you were not a child and you had to take care of both of you. no matter how much you wanted to die, you had to stay alive for laura. but also for logan, for the way you both cried and held his bloody hands while he died and for not letting her be what they made her for.

and no matter how strong your mutations were, you didn't know how long you would have lasted there if it hadn't been for elektra, johnny, blade, and gambit. they found you when you were escaping from alioth and let you into their hideout. they explained to you how things worked there and eventually, they allowed you to stay with them.

until one day you walked into that same hiding place, and there he was, drinking gambit's alcohol and wearing a yellow spandex suit. you felt your heart beating so hard that it seemed to be fighting to get out and reach him. you brought a hand to your chest to feel it. it had gone so long without beating that way that sometimes you thought you left it buried with him in your timeline.

logan also felt his heartbeat accelerate but he quickly took his eyes off of you and drank a long sip from the bottle. he wasn't alone, a deadpool was with him, you recognized the suit, they were quite popular in the void. he shook his hands and gave little jumps of excitement. you looked at him confused, did you know each other?

—of course, you are here! there's no you without logan and there's no logan without you! do you know how hard it's been to find a proper wolverine? there are so many fucking timelines without one because you died! —deadpool exclaimed when he saw you. —and this one is not even a proper wolverine! you know they call him the worst logan? and he won't tell me why they call him that, can you believe it?—deadpool acted offended, you didn't know what to say. —wait... —he turned to look at logan. —was there a she in your timeline? i didn't get to meet her, they're usually nicer than you.

logan ignored the question and simply drank from the bottle again as he stormed out of your hideout.

he avoided you as much as he could. he did not look you in the eyes, he did not address you when he spoke. how could he? the last time logan saw you, your lifeless body was piled up next to scott's. shame consumed him even at the thought of just approaching you. his hands trembled, a knot formed in his stomach, his pulse quickened.

you came over to talk to him that same night.

logan was sitting in front of the campfire, alone, with a bottle of liquor in his hand. how many had he drunk? he saw you approaching and tried to convince you that he wanted to be alone but you still sat next to him.

—what was i like?

logan took a long sip of alcohol when you asked. he said nothing, just stared into the fire, so you decided to take the turn. —you were grumpy, i guess that doesn't change in any of your variants, and you wouldn't have worn that yellow spandex suit in a thousand years.

he looked at you with a frown when you said that. the same way your logan would have looked at you. you continued talking. —you were stubborn, never asked for help, and you were tired all the fucking time because you worked your ass off to get us out of the shitty place we were living in.

he stared at you in silence while you talked. the person you were describing definitely sounded like a version of him.

—you always said that i didn't need to wait up for you but i know you liked it when you came home late at night and i was there and i know you hated the way i folded your shirts but you never said anything because you knew i didn't know how to do it any other way.

you felt a lump forming in your throat. you turned your head, hiding your face from logan so he couldn't see how you used your thumb to wipe away the tear rolling down your cheek. —but you were so brave, and caring, and i loved you with all my heart. you always looked after me even when you were fucking dying with each passing day.

by the tone in your voice and how well you remembered every detail, he guessed that your logan was suddenly taken away from you. oh, he knew that feeling so well.

you were about to get up and leave, you didn't want to bother him anymore and you had already overshared enough with him, when all of a sudden, he started talking.

—you were the sweetest. fuck, i never knew why you were with me. i always thought you deserved better, but there was no way to get you off my ass —. he closed his eyes and shook his head. —and i tried, i tried to push you away and get you to find a guy who deserved you, but there was no way. and i didn't really want you to do it because i was so fucking in love with you.

logan drank from the bottle, trying to let the alcohol sliding down his throat drag with it the tears forming in his eyes. —you liked to read in the garden of the mansion on sunny days and when it rained you'd open my bedroom window to listen to the rain and get into my bed while i was sleeping so i could keep you warm.

there was silence as logan took another sip, almost finishing all the alcohol. —and i left you to fucking die.

the worst logan. at that moment you understood why he was called that, you didn't him to explain it. wade said that in all the timelines he had visited, there was no you without logan and there was no logan without you.

however, in his timeline there was logan but there wasn't you.

he was called the worst logan because he was doomed to live in his timeline without you.

you grabbed the bottle from his hands and drank the alcohol left. —yeah, i couldn't save you either.

you kept each other company that night. most of the time in silence, watching the fire consume the wood, other times you commented on the situation, you talked about cassandra nova, the people you had met there in the void, he even asked you about laura. and at the end of the night, you were sitting next to him with your head resting on his shoulder and him watching you sleep peacefully.

the next morning you headed off to fight cassandra nova. you knew that logan would end up joining you, it was in his nature.

you and laura managed to remove the helmet from juggernaut's head and you ran to give it to wade. when cassandra opened the portal using strange's ring you were there, you could've left with wade and logan, but you couldn't leave laura there. cassandra's allies had pulled themselves together and she was struggling to fight back.

before you went to help her and logan jumped into the portal, he wrapped one of his big arms around your waist and pulled you into a kiss. you rested your hands against his chest and closed your eyes, enjoying those few seconds of your lips pressed together.

—oh, fuck. seriously now? i know how important fan service is for marvel but we literally have a chance to get the fuck out of here—. wade complained.

—i'll get you out. you and the kid, i promise i won't leave you here —. he said as he started walking backward towards the portal. you nodded, if there was one thing you were sure of, it was that no wolverine in the multiverse would break a promise.

and just as you were right about all wolverines being grumpy, you were right about that too. agents from the time variance authority went into the void to get you and laura that same day and now you were having dinner with him, laura, wade, and his family.

you couldn't take your eyes off him.

he had the same look in his eyes. that little sparkle in his deep brown eyes. he was happy, smiling as he played with the dog and laura, calm knowing that you were by his side. you looked away from him when he caught you staring.

—what is it?

you shook your head and pressed your lips together, showing him a little smile. —nothing.

—come on, spit it out.

—it's just... i feel i could fall in love with every version of you.

logan nodded slowly, his eyes were now fixed on yours. —i've had the same feeling.

wade, who was distracted with vanessa but not enough to not be paying attention to your conversation, decided to intervene. —oh honey, wait until you meet the crucified one. you will want to take that back.

you and logan looked at each other confused.

[lovverletters]

my god . . you sound like a sin

IN WHICH, an avid asmr listener fell head over heels for you, his favourite asmrtist.

tw/ yan is a gooner, mentions of self deletion but bro is not serious dw, yan goon over ur voice, delusional af, typical yan behaviour

yandere fan x gn asmrtist reader

. . . 🍒

he's lonely. like REALLY lonely.

he barely goes outside unless he was forced to by either the people around him or necessarily. for the most part, he doesn't interact much with othersㅡ not even his own family.

it's bad but he couldn't care less. the online world was much kinder to him than the outside will ever be. it's not the he's ugly or anything. he's just painfully average.

average grades, average looks, average social life, average job.

his existence is fucking average.

which is why he doesn't have much luck in the dating pool. nobody wants an average joe like him. except for, you.

at least the 'you' in this asmr fantasy he's invested in. he had been scrolling through the youtube page watching videos to pass time while he waits for his game to update.

when he came across your channel. you're an asmr youtuber, specifically those boyfriend/girlfriend audio kind of asmrtist. he hesitates at first, he finds these kind of thing cringe due to it's cheesy plotline.

but something within him, perhaps the curious part of him made him click on your most popular video. and oh boy, was he hooked for life.

you voice were like honey in his ears, dripping and overwhelmingly sweet. he swore he almost popped a boner from hearing you address him 'darling' or 'dear'. your production? absolutely amazing that he'd forgot you were just doing this for a side hussle. if he hadn't known better he'd think you were a professional.

immediately after he finished your first video and himself, he was clicking on the next. that day, he spent hours going through your catalogue. by the end of it he was still itching for more.

that's when he subscribe for your patreon. for more of your exclusive and extra contents. but your patreon has more than just extra audios. you'd share bits of your life that only made him all the more obsessed.

at this point, he doesn't view your asmr audios as a mere fantasy. but it's that you and him were a genuine couple. you're no longer just an asmrtist to him, you're his partner.

all of these audios you've made are just a way of communicating with him while also letting others whom in his opinion were undeserving of, to delude themselves in a fantasy where they're dating you.

as if, you're dating him.

and out of kindness of his heart, he's letting those pathetic bunch have a piece of you. if it were up to him, he'd wanted to hog you all to himself. though, he sometimes wished he could hear a personal audio just for his ears to listen to.

and that opportunity arise when you were hosting a charity event. anyone could commission a personal audio from you. you'd hope that it would be nothing weird and for the most part, plenty of your audience requests were tame.

some even sent a script for a storyline they wanted you to act on for them. those were the most fun to do in all honesty.

ding!

you noticed someone had commision an audio from youㅡ oh well let's hope it's a normal one. you've yet to find the odd once yet and something in you had an inkling this might be the first out of many.

what the fuck. the commissions were all from the same person but there was at least 5 of them. they're very generous. . . you think.

you checked the scripts they've sent and the four seems somewhat normal enough though a bit . . sexual. the commissioner basically asked for a whimper audios from you.

but the last one took the cake for the wildest requests you've ever gotten.

can you please tell me to kms? you sound so hot.

[dokyumms]

seventeen's reaction to you being overwhelmed !

pairings: ot13 x reader

genre: fluff, angst possibly?

word count: 1.5k

cw: bad relationship w/ parents (mingyu)

a/n: a request done for mina ( @lavoilee ) !! I FINALLY GOT IT DONE. also i decided to make this a longer one, enjoy my kings bc idk how i feel abt this. dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

seungcheol - you're so tired. you've been working nonstop, whether it be studying, working, applying for better jobs, completing projects and assignments back to back, and you can't even get a break because you have an exam coming up for your worst subject.

it feels like the world is going too fast and you're the only one who's behind. i mean, people do this all the time. why can't you keep up?you hold your head in your hands, contemplating on where to start when seungcheol walks in.

his hair is damp from showering and damn, he looks hot as hell, but you're not really paying attention to that right now.

"hey baby, did you want me to- hey, what's wrong?" he drops everything when he sees you on the couch, obviously distressed. (like literally, he dropped the towel he was using to dry his hair)

he kneels in front of you, lifting your head up so he can see your face. and ugh you just start crying. he doesn't ask you anymore after that, just joining you on the couch so he can cradle you in his arms. "it's okay baby, you're going to get through this," he whispers into your hair.

jeonghan - you just feel like going to sleep- for a really long time. you can't seem to catch a break. why did you decide to sign up for so many courses? you don't remember now.

it's been 5 hours, you haven't gotten up from your desk since you sat down, it's sunday, it's sunday NIGHT.

you groan, somehow you still have to get up at 6 in the morning tomorrow to catch the bus on time, but you can't even go to bed yet.

you're too busy caught up in your work when you feel jeonghan come up behind you. "y/n, it's late. let's go to bed," he offers gently, kissing you a kiss on the temple.

"han, i really would... i really want to..." you say, almost giving in.

"don't worry baby, just let me take care of this." he offers, and you decide an hour of rest wouldn't hurt. that hour of rest turned into 7, but it's okay! jeonghan somehow sent your professor an email for an extension?? and it worked???

joshua - he can tell just by your face that you're burnt out. he's heard you ranting to your friend about it all week, not wanting to intrude though, he's just been silently helping. but now he can see you starting to crack.

you're on the floor, project laid out, but it's not really a project. it's a large white piece of paper that's completely blank. next to it, however, there's about 7 pieces of balled up paper- your previous attempts at mapping out this floor plan for some stupid architecture thing.

you have about 2 days to plan and present it, and to make matters worse, your partners are no help, leaving you to do it alone. but you just can't.

finally, joshua sits down in front of you, putting his hands on your shoulders. "overwhelmed?" you nod and he pulls you into a hug, "it's okay, let me help you. you don't have to do this alone, love." his reassurance makes you sigh in relief, feeling some weight being lifted off your shoulders.

jun - you slam your phone on the counter, making jun and you flinch at the sudden noise. he looks at you with wide eyes, coffee cup threatening to be dropped from his hand. muttering an apology, you retire to your room.

your friend was driving you nuts about planning her wedding. at first, you accepted the challenge with open arms, but she was just so picky about everything and you didn't have a high budget. you'd just had an argument on the phone about literal napkins.

absolutely done, you flop onto your bed, trying to figure out how you're going to fix this . it's been about 10 minutes or so when you hear your door creak open. you pop your head up to see jun, poking his head through the door before his hand pops out as well with a cup of tea.

honestly it's so cute that you let him in with no question.

"minghao said this might help," he explains, putting the cup on your nightstand. he's about to walk away, but you grab his wrist, "stay for a little, please?" he seems genuinely shocked, frozen in place, so you have to drag him onto the bed. "sorry, you just looked really mad," he apologizes sheepishly.

hoshi - you're so lost. you're at practice with your dance team and you can't keep up with any of the choreography since you were sick the day before.

you can tell the other members are getting frustrated, but they can't really get mad, so they just sigh and give you some pointers.

by the time practice ends, everyone is tired, but it's mainly because of how many times you had to redo the parts you missed. you feel terrible about it, so you decide to make it up by staying to practice.

but lord, you just don't get it and the impending doom of the upcoming performance starts to dawn on you. sweaty and tired, you sink down against the mirror until you're sitting down. you don't know how you're going to catch up at this rate, but then the door opens.

hoshi strides in, "y/nnnn i'm here to pick you up, let's go home," but when he sees you in your position he kneels down in front of you.

"it's your choreo, isn't it?" he asks, as if he's read your mind. you nod sadly, and he hums like he's trying to figure out what to do. all of the sudden, he gets up, pulling you with him. "well you don't have an idol as your boyfriend for no reason, right? don't worry, i'll help you,"

wonwoo - wonwoo's full of worry when he comes near your door to hear your quiet sobs. he knocks on the door, "y/n? are you okay?" and doesn't really give you time to respond before entering.

you're on the ground, knees held up to your chest, head down with a laptop opened in front of you.

"babe? what's going on?" he asks, giving you a hug before turning your computer towards him so he can try to detective his way into finding out the answer, frowning when he reads the screen.

oh- you'd just lost your job. he doesn't ask any further questions, shutting the laptop and giving you a hug. you'd already gone through enough in the past month, it wasn't fair.

"you can break up with me, you know," you whisper, having the sudden feeling that he deserves better.

"y/n, what are you saying? i'm not going to leave you, not like this."

and he doesn't, holding you in his arms like you're the most valuable thing in the world.

woozi - when your teacher emails you about how you're missing another assignment, you just lose it.

yes, of course you're missing another assignment when your teacher has spent the entire week just absolutely spamming you with assignments and projects like they don't take at least an hour to complete.

you slam your head on your desk, a little too hard for your liking, making you wince. jihoon hears the noise, walking over to your room to find your head still planted on the table.

sighing, he walks over and grabs a pillow off your bed. "up." he says, making you raise your head from the desk in confusion. he puts the pillow under you.

"you're going to hurt yourself by doing that," he explains, making you roll your eyes, but you place your head on the pillow anyway. suddenly, he gives you a peck on the cheek before walking away without saying anything. you forget about your assignment, confused and cheeks flushing.

dk - babysitting is not for the weak. your friend asked you to watch her kids while she attends a wedding, it seemed easy enough at the time, but now you're stuck in the living room with 3 demons running around.

to be honest, you've never been good around kids, and today was no exception. all your patience has ran out the window by now and you're just praying for your friend to go home.

you don't even know what to do with them- they're loud and active, practically jumping all over the place. your head is starting to hurt when seokmin enters the house.

at first, he laughs at your condition, but then gives you an empathetic look.

"don't worry baby, i got this," he tells you reassuringly before giving you a kiss on the forehead and taking over as the kids' favorite uncle.

mingyu - after you and your parents argue back and forth on the phone for an hour, they finally hang up, calling you a disappointment right before, of course. you're so tired, it's like you can't please them with anything at this point.

you walk out of your room to get some water, trying to calm down. mingyu's in the kitchen, looking up at you when you walk in.

he stops chopping vegetables to give you a hug.

"doing okay? i heard you in the room, babe," he asks into your shoulder.

"yeah, just my parents," you sigh, letting him sway you two back and forth. the more you think about it, the more you feel like crying, lifting your head and blinking aggressively to stop the tears.

"no, don't do that," he says, holding your face, "it's okay, don't hold it, y/n." he urges, touching your forehead with his.

the8 - minghao frowns when he sees you looking blankly at your laptop and on the verge of tears. he comes up behind you to see that you have like 100 tabs open, all on various assignments.

simply closing your laptop, he gives you a back hug, "we're going,"

you turn to him, looking miserable but he doesn't budge.

"it'll make you feel better, trust me," he pushes. reluctantly, you let him drag you off the couch.

he takes you to a gazebo, it's a short walk from your apartment, but you never noticed it till now. you admire the scenery, there's lights strung around it and there's virtually no one there, giving you and him some privacy.

taking your hand in his, he looks at you, "it's pretty, right?" you nod in response, giving him a small smile. it's really just what you needed, being just with him surrounded by warm lights.

seungkwan - he’s just like “nope, we’re not doing that” when he sees you on the ground next to some papers and a giant binder, but more importantly, with blood shot eyes.

but what else are you supposed to do? you have 3 days to finish 2 different projects and you’re close to spiraling at this point.

“hey, babe, look at me,” he kneels in front of you.

“it’s going to be okay,” he reassures you, despite having no idea why you’re on the ground in the first place. hugging you tightly, he vows to destroy your professors, because who else would be causing you this much trouble?

vernon - you should be asleep by now, but you’ve spent the last 2 hours in bed, wide awake. staring at the ceiling, you contemplate your life. you’ve got family matters, stupid friend drama, and work issues to deal with.

vernon’s asleep beside you, breathing softly. man, he’s so perfect, and honestly your relationship is the only thing keeping you afloat right now.

you shuffle around a bit more, fighting invisible demons when you feel vernon pulling you close to him.

“what’re you doing awake?” he mumbles, yawning.

“just the usual, regretting my life decisions,”

“it’s too late for that, babe. you should sleep on it and we can talk about it tomorrow,” he mutters sleepily. he probably didn’t even process anything you were saying, but his calm demeanor is reassuring, luring you to sleep.

dino - “y/n~ it’s okay~ don’t be sad~” chan sings while back hugging you, obviously panicked when he walks in to find you crashing out at the counter.

your manager has just yelled at you for the dumbest thing ever right after your mom lectured you for something that wasn’t your fault, and you hate when people yell at you. so naturally, you start crying.

honestly, he’s got no idea what’s going on, and his only goal is to make you feel better. he keeps singing comically, but when he realizes it isn’t doing anything, he guides you toward the couch.

spooning you, he apologizes for no reason out of sheer panic, “okay, babe i’m really sorry, i know i’m not the best singer, just tell me what’s wrong?”

[hattiestgal]

If you don't mind my asking, how do you go about drawing fat? :3

JUST THE EXCUSE I WAS LOOKING FOR

So, for me personally, a lot of the time when I draw fat characters, I'm not looking to specifically capture the specifics of fat as much as the feel of fat. Bulkier, rounder shapes in the right places that has a feeling of weight to em! A lot of that is intuition and simplification at this point, but it all works on the same frame as just any ol' person. Like take this-

For example. This is the basis for any body shape, not just the more average one that it may imply. Sure- it can be that average body shape:

But also a fat one too!

And a big part of that is knowing where fat usually tends to bunch up on the body, so lets take a look piece by piece! (Please keep in mind this is very simplified, and not completely precise in some parts)

THE FACE: Cheeks (in purple) and especially the chin (in light blue) are the places where a lot of the fat is gonna wanna gather and round out on your face! Additionally, theres a small pocket of fat beneath the cranium on the backside of your head. It's small, but it is there. I believe fat can build up elsewhere like the bridge of your nose and forehead, but generally speaking, you're gonna have a whole lot more buildup in other places first.

THE TORSO: A lot of the fat built up on the torso is gonna be sent to your tummy. More cushioning for vital organs, mostly out of the way, it just makes sense. Additionally, the lower backs fat builds up and joins with a patch of fat on your sides that forms what is typically referred to as the love handles to make that double belly look. Along with this, the immediate next target for the torso is the breasts, followed by the upper back!

THE ARMS: For this limb, a VERY notable amount of the fat present builds up on the tricep and bicep areas, lessening once you get towards the flexor and extensor areas. You can almost think of the arm as a sort of triangular shape, wide side starting from the shoulder and tapering towards the hand, which itself mostly builds up fat around the back of the hand and the fingers. The shoulders themselves don't build up too much fat unless you got a lot

THE LEGS: And finally, you can think of the legs having pretty similar curves to what you're probably already used to thinking. The front of the thighs getting a big buildup, along with the back of the calves, the other parts being flatter in turn. As far as the feet go- similarly to the hands, the top of the feet, along with the heels get most of the buildup, as fat on your soles would impede mobility. The glute, hip and crotch area will also especially build up fat, lending to the same triangular shape that you can see in the arm!

A big thing to note with fat is that it tends to taper off towards joints. Your knees, elbows, shoulders, hips, and all the other places are gonna have significantly less fat so that you remain mobile and flexible, as that's important!

Now that we have an idea of where fat builds up on the body, you might have something that looks kinda like this

Which yes, does demonstrate a solid understanding of the places fat builds up, lacks the weight you're probably trying to convey, which brings us to out next point! Fat is well... heavy! Gravity is what gives fat much of it's shape, especially as you tread towards larger and larger bodies.

This is demonstrated really well on the arms especially-

Those big ol' bits of fat'll really start to sag when left hanging, and they will squish like hell if they run into something. I like to think of these bits of fat as big ol' ovals that squash and stretch depending on if there's an obstacle in their way or not

These are the important shapes to remember when it comes to the weightiness of fat! If you take all of this into mind, you should be getting something a lot closer to that shape you've been after!

Oh, and always remember that fat bodies come in all variety of shapes and sizes! Play around with a whole lot, and seek out all the resources you can! it'll really lend to your knowledge when it comes to this kinda stuff!

And as I always recommend when it comes to learning art- look at what your favorite artists do with fat bodies. See what you really like about the fat bodies they draw and try to replicate it in your own work, I promise you it's one of the most helpful things ever.

This is like the most basic of basics when it comes to drawing fat bodies though. If there's any additional thing about fat bodies, or maybe you want clarification on something, don't be afraid to ask! If there's enough to cover, I'll make an addition to this post!