#and i feel so. irritated by everything i want to claw my skin off

[dykethang]

there is Hatred in my Fucking Soul !!!!!!!!!!!

[gor3-hound]

FUCK YOU !! (AND, UH, FUCK HER TOO) — LOGAN HOWLETT + SCOTT SUMMERS

ft. scott summers x f!reader x logan howlett

a/n: deadpool and wolverine full throttled me back into my x-men era... rewatched the first two movies and binge wrote this over the course of three hours... it's pure, shameless smut with slightly gay undertones idk what to tell you... reader is basically in place of jean!!

cw: 18+ content, double penetration, almost cucking, cheating, reader is scott's girlfriend, logan is an asshole, competitive sex?? fighting, clawsTM, biting, marking, mild possessive behavior, p in v, mild scent kink, assholery all round tbh, creampies, threesome. gay crisis for a second x

word count: 2.3k words

Scott is starting to think Logan likes his things way too much. First, it was the way he looked at you when he was first brought to the school, eyes raking over your form. Scott wasn't blind – the visor didn't impair his vision that much. He remembers walking into the room when the both of you were alone. He could sense the tension between the two of you before his presence was even made known to you.

It wasn't until a while later he'd figured out Logan probably smelt him coming. Cocky bastard probably wanted to be caught.

Then, it was his motorcycle. His very own pride and joy. Returned with an empty tank, his keys tossed to him like it was nothing. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly behind his visor as he chucked the keys back to Logan. He barely managed to reign in his irritation.

“You gonna tell me to stay away from your girl?” Scott had told him to do so after that comment, despite having the faith in you that you'd be able to avoid Logan's charms. He was clearly wrong. Logan didn't seem like the type to have much respect, but this was just taking the piss.

“Been meaning to test if these beams could pulverise Adamantium.”

All he gets in reply is a shit eating grin from Logan as he pulls away from the heated kiss Scott had walked in on, his hands still gripping your waist. You really had the audacity to get all wide-eyes and shocked, like you weren't just about to fuck Logan with your ass perched on Scott's bike.

“Shit. Scott, I'm-”

“Sorry?” He cuts off, gaze very clearly still trained on Logan despite the way his shades conceal his line of vision. “Yeah. Save it.”

“Thought I could smell that shitty hair gel.” Logan huffs, bringing his head down to nip and suck at your neck, adding to the wide array of marks he's already left. And you fucking let him, tilting your head back and gasping like it's the best thing you've ever felt. Scott's gonna kill you, then Logan, then quite possibly himself. “How long’s it take you to get that done in the mornin’ anyway, pretty boy?”

“Right. Says the guy with kitty ears?” Scott bites back, taking a few steps towards the both of you. “I'm gonna give you about three seconds to get away from my girl and my bike before we see how good your healing factor really is.”

Logan fucking laughs, kissing his way up your neck and along your jaw so he can whisper into your ear, breath hot against your skin. “Stay put for me, yeah? Shouldn't take long, sweetheart.”

He pushes away from the bike, turning around to face Scott. Cocks his head to the side like a damn dog, rolling his shoulders as his claws shoot out from his knuckles. “Don't make me embarrass you in front of your girl, Cy-clops.”

Scott fucking hates that, hates the way he drags out his name as if it's stupider than Wolverine. Hates everything about Logan, if he's being honest. Hates how easily the man manages to get under his skin every single time.

“You're such a fucking asshole, y'know that?” Scott squares up, trying his best not to hurl a beam directly at Logan with the hopes he'd be able to send him flying through the garage wall. He's meant to be a team player. Level-headed. He's not sure how the older man always reduces him to this.

“That really hurts my feelings, bub. I thought we were a team.” Logan stalks closer, and Scott's vaguely aware you've gotten up, ready to break up a fight that never comes. Claws sink into the drywall beside his head at the same time he hears you tell Logan to ‘stop’. His back hits the wall, and then the asshole leans down, lips brushing his ear just like he had to yours moments prior.

“Y'know, I can smell the changes in your scent when you're pissed, happy... Can also smell it when you're turned on.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply just to tease the man further. “So either you're really into you're girl gettin’ passed around, or you wanna fuck me. Shit, or both. Which is it, pretty boy?”

“I don't want you to fuck my girl, Logan.” Scott grits put. His looks literally can kill, and he's becoming increasingly tempted to prove that to the other man. “And I definitely don't wanna fuck you.”

“C'mere, baby.” Logan coos, gaze flicking to you. He tuts when Scott goes to move, pressing his body against his to prevent him from getting too far. “Ah-ah. Stay there, pretty boy.”

You're at Logan’s side in a second, peering up at him through your lashes like an obedient dog waiting for its next command. Shit makes Scott's blood boil, his body going rigid against the other man's.

“D'you wanna kiss me, sweetheart?” He asks you, cocking his head to the side with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. And you fucking nod, like your boyfriend isn't right there staring at you. “D'you think he wants a kiss from me, too, sweetheart? Think he deserves it? Can't have been treatin’ you right if you came runnin’ to me, huh? Maybe I should teach him?”

“Yeah, think he needs it. He's always so stressed, never wants to do anything.” Now you're airing out your relationship issues? Fucking great. Scott's practically seething now, lips parting to say something – anything – to defend himself.

He doesn't get the chance before Logan's lips crash against his. He tenses up, ready for a fight. His hands come up to push the man away, but fuck he's a good kisser. It's a lot different from a girl – rougher. There's a drag of his stubble, a pleasant burn that comes from it. His teeth sink into Scott's lower lip before tugging, then he's forcing his tongue into his mouth. Scott ends up dragging him closer, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses back.

A growl rises in Scott's throat when he hears you giggle at his reaction, but he doesn't have much time to think on it, ‘cause Logan laughs all breathy and hot into his mouth, and it's making him short circuit. The growl quickly transforms into a low whine, his lips chasing after the other man when he starts to pull back.

His eyes open just in time to watch as Logan grabs you by your hair to pull you into a needy kiss, his free hand grasping at your hip to grind you against his rapidly hardening length. Scott feels his own cock twitching to life at the sight, a breathless ‘fuck’ leaving his lips as he reaches down to palm himself through his jeans. He hasn't been this hard in months – maybe ever. He feels like a horny teenager again, leaking pre-cum steadily into the fabric of his boxers. He isn't sure what to think of it. Humiliating, is what it is.

Logan's lips are on his again, his hands sliding under his shirt, tugging him closer. He feels his cock pressing against the hard ridges of Logan's muscles, feels your own hands join his in exploring Scott's skin, your lips pressing kisses along his neck and jaw.

“Relax, Scott.” You say, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Relax, yeah. His dick is rubbing against another man's for the first time while his girlfriend is reaching around him to unbutton his jeans, and you want him to relax. This is a totally normal scenario that isn't throwing him head first into an identity crisis.

He gets lost in the hands on his body, the lips against his skin. Before he knows it, the three of you are naked and panting and pressed against each other. Scott feels like he can't breathe properly. His eyes dart between your body, and the fattest dick he's ever seen in his life. He doesn't know if he should be turned on or really, really insecure. His cock answers by jumping against his abdomen and leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum. Traitor.

Logan grunts as he lifts you up almost effortlessly, his arms resting at the back of your knees, using them as makeshift slings to hold you up against his chest, which is flush to your back. He quirks an eyebrow as Scott just stares, unmoving. “Well? You don't need me to tell you where to put your dick, do you? No wonder she's so pent up.”

“Asshole.” Scott says simply in response, stepping towards you. His words lack any real bite – he's too turned on to even think about being pissy. He fists his length leisurely a few times before lining up with your entrance, pushing forward inch by inch until his hips are flush with the backs of your thighs, your legs dangling helplessly at his sides.

You gasp and whine as Logan moves to slide in alongside your boyfriend, nails digging into his skin until Logan is buried to the hilt inside of you. Scott instantly peppers the skin of your neck with kisses, trying to soothe you.

“You alright, baby?” He asks, all soft and sweet. He's forgotten why he was mad at you in the first place, mind foggy with arousal as your cunt clenches around him.

“She's fine, bub. She can take it. Isn't that right, sweet thing.” Another whine, then a nod. It eases Scott, if only slightly, when he feels you relaxing against them. A beat passes, and then another. His eyes meet Logan’s and they both start to move – slowly, at first, before picking up the pace.

You're so much tighter like this, sucking him in desperately as he tries to find a rhythm with Logan. He can barely focus in anything but your heat and the way his cock ruts against Logan's as they both fuck into you. It's almost maddeningly hot, and he's feeling overwhelmingly anxious that he's going to cum in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

Scott leans down, his lips meeting yours as he rocks forward over and over. His lashes flutter as he sucks on your tongue, kissing you greedily. He feels a hand tugging at his hair, pulling him away from you before sharp teeth start to nip at his lower lip, a tongue bullying his way into his mouth. He sucks on Logan's, too, kissing him back just as hungrily as he did to you. He rubs soothing circles into your hips as he picks up the pace, coaxing you into relaxing further.

A growl rumbles Logan's chest when he feels Scott fucking you faster, his hips snapping against the fat of your thighs with more intensity, like he's determined to fuck you better than the other man. He's bigger, tip bullying your cervix with every thrust in a way that makes you tear up. His nose twitches as he smells the saltiness of your tears, then he's pulling away from Scott to lap them off of your face.

“Shhh, shh… you can take it, sweetheart. I know you can.” He coos softly, moving to nuzzle the crook of your neck, nose running along the skin like he's scenting you. Both men continue to slide in and out of your slick heat, grunting and groaning like animals as they chase their release.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Your boyfriend coos. Scott needs you to cum soon, because he's barely holding on as it is. He doesn't want to leave you unsatisfied – especially now he's very aware Logan will gladly pick up his slack. His hand falls from your hip to make its way between your legs, thumb rubbing circles into your clit until your muscles grow taut. He grins, sucking a possessive mark over one of the hickies Logan had left earlier. Take that, asshole.

Your walls flutter and clench around both cocks as you reach your peak, a shaky moan of Scott's name leaving your lips as your head falls back against Logan's shoulder. Check and mate.

“Hear that, kitty claws? I'm still her favourite.” He huffs out, hands returning to your hips in an almost bruising grip as he ruts helplessly inside your tight heat, balls tightening as his orgasm rapidly approaches.

“S'only ‘cause she's lookin’ at ya, dumbass.” Really, it shouldn't be Logan's gruff, fucked-out tone that drives him over the edge, but it is. He blows his load a second later, forehead dropping against the crook of your neck as he fills you with spurts of hot, white liquid. He gasps against your skin, nails digging into your plush flesh.

Logan isn't far behind, grunting as he forces every inch of his cock deep inside of you, head tipping back as he releases. The tips of his claws threaten to breach the skin of his knuckles, but he manages to suppress them enough that they never fully unsheathe. He pants softly, chest heaving as he thrusts shallowly through his orgasm.

“Fuck.” He hisses, slowly pulling out of you. He lifts you off of Scott's cock, settling you down on the seat of the motorcycle so you can all catch your breath. Logan rubs soothing circles into your back as Scott steps forward, all but slumping against you as he embraces you.

“Did so good, baby. Was perfect.” He breathes out, pressing kisses along your bare shoulder. He pulls back just enough to look at Logan, who's already lighting up a cigar. “The fuck did that even come from?”

That shit-eating grin lights up the older man's face again as he takes a few short draws from the cigar in his mouth. He exhales the smoke, pulling it out of his mouth to speak.

“Trust me, pretty boy. You really don't wanna know.”

[princessbrunette]

rafe didn’t like being told what to do. not in a casual way, and definitely not in a sexual way. the closest who got to that, was kitty!reader — and that was purely because sometimes he just wanted to cum. he wasn’t in the mood, and didn’t have the energy to throw her into a headlock and show her who the fuck she’s talking to.

“‘meant to be helpin’ me relax, alright so help me.” rafe presses a knuckle between his brows as he lays back on the bed, shirtless with his pants pulled all the way down to his ankles. it was hot today, and he was frustrated, and tired, and he could feel the incoming headache sprouting branches through the muscles in his forehead already. he wasn’t going back and forth with you today.

“oh like you helped me yesterday when i asked for your card to buy those mary-jane’s and you told me to have some impulse control? where’s that energy now, broke boy—” your words are cut off by his hand grabbing your face, halting you as you take your time kissing down his stomach. he glares down at you, and you can see the exasperation because he doesn’t have much fight in him today but he’ll be damned if you talked to him like that.

“shutup…do your job…we’ll talk about the shoes.” he warns, and you’re happy enough— shrugging as you continue your journey on down his body. you’re palming him now, claw like nails dragging along the sides of his skin before coming to a point where his bulbous aching tip was, swiping across the sensitive skin making him hiss. “and hurry up about it, would you?” he murmurs making you dig your nails into his thigh. “fuck.” he jerks quietly, and you press a kiss to his shaft, holding back your giggle.

despite everything, rafe liked you a lot because you were difficult. you didn’t throw yourself at him like those other chicks at the parties he went to, he was met with a challenge and a bad attitude that he couldn’t wait to fix. not in a bitchy, up your own ass, pogue way though — no, like you wanted to push him. you wanted to see how far you could take it before he snaps and bends you over. batting your spiky black lashes up at him, careless to the smudged black liner that had gathered beneath your wet waterline— you were a true fucking temptress. he’d called you that the first time you’d met, and you laughed and called him corny.

you drool on his cock, taking your time to jerk him nice and slow. you could appreciate how pretty his dick was, lengthy and the perfect thickness with a flushed tip and a bulging vein that wrapped around him like a vine. you liked to look at it, close up, all hard like this — so you didn’t care for him opening his mouth and taking that away from you.

“what did i just say huh— you want those shoes or—” you cut him off with a taloned hand sliding up his toned chest, fingers splaying over his open mouth, not even caring to look up at him.

“shut up.” you mewl irritably, huffing as you suckle on his tip, lapping up his precum the way a true kitty would devour her milk. he moans against your hand, and you keep it there lightly as a plea for him to stay quiet for once. “thank you.” you sigh sarcastically, before easing him down your throat.

rafe drops his head against the pillow, eyes closed and lips parted now, panting at the ceiling. “fuck, fuck.” he whispers breathlessly, but not without commenting on your behaviour under his breath. “lucky you’re so fuckin’ hot… with a mouth like that.”

you sink your teeth lightly into his shaft and he winces, stomach tensing which makes you giggle audibly this time. sometimes his pain satisfied you like that. someone had to humble him, and the universe had a funny way of making that person a spunky little prissy bitch, half his damn height wearing black and pink. it bordered on cruel.

you pull off with a pop, batting your lashes up at him sardonically.

“oh please, you love my mouth.”

he blinks down at you, tongue in cheek because he can’t argue, only able to let out a ‘hm.’ before pushing your head back down onto his cock to suck him off again.

you let that slide, feeling generous. after all, you really did want those shoes.

[anemptypuddingcup]

“Lemme knot you already!”

Werewolf!Ace x Female Vampire!Reader.

For my baby @votaeto

Smut Short. Somewhat.

Contains: Minor blood warning! (I mean minor, it’s not much.) Ace needing to breed you. Ace in rut. Ace being sweet while breeding Sweet & hearty Reader. I’m so sorry but Ace definitely has a scent kink in this one. Slight praising towards Ace. Heavy pussy eating. 69. Edging. Cowgirl. Reverse cowgirl. Full Nelson. Ace filling up your pussy- huehue cream-filled donut. Somewhat comforting even though it’s about breeding. Mf got that dawg in him literally cuz he is the dawg (lemme stfu-)

“Cmon baby~ I just wanna knot you~ I wanna fill you up with my little pups so bad~ You have no fuckin’ idea.”

Ace inched in closer to you while you backed away teasingly from him. Your back presses up against the headboard and ace moves in closer to your pretty little face. While the thought of breeding his children soak your panties, part of you wasn’t necessarily ready for kids yet. Then again it would be an absolute fucking fantasy to get fucked and bred by your werewolf boyfriend. You sighed out before letting out a little chuckle, your hands reaching out before pulling his head against your pretty breasts.

“Ace baby…How do you think things would turn out of a vampire and a werewolf had children? Wouldn’t that be hellish to deal with?” You asked, poking your lips out to him while quirking a brow. Ace pouted as he looked up at you with his big puppy eyes. Ace didn’t care. He was willing to put up with any-and-everything just to breed you and fill you up with his kids.

He whines and whimper like a puppy, digging his nose deep into your breasts while his eyes glistened staring up into you. You huff out as his nails claws at your back. His ear twitches as he inhales your scent, sniffing along your skin and groaning out at the sweetness of it. “Mmh~ You smell so good~ Please let me breed you baby, pleaseee!” He begs, digging his face deeper into your breasts and pushing you back up hard against the headboard.

You huffed out irritably but pet him, combing your fingers through his silky hair. You pull at his ear and he yells out softly before sitting up. He straddles you and presses his head up against the headboard, gripping them while he looked deep into your pretty ruby red eyes. “Please…? I know you want me too…I know deep down you want me to knot you and breed you for all you’re worth~” He whispers to you, his face only centimeters away from yours.

“Help me with my rut please…Let me breed you…”

You sigh out and pull your shirt off, urging him to get off of you. He perks up and smiles as he reaches out for your skirt to pull off. He slowly pulls off your skirt with little patience left, getting down flat onto his tummy as he stared at your soaking panties. He sniffs up around your lower tummy, inhaling your scent and moaning out while he trailed his rough hands along the softness of your thighs.

He presses his nose up against your clothed cunt and a deep blush dusts your cheeks. You watched as he dug his nose deep within your soaking warmth, not even trying to tug off your panties anymore. “A-Ace!” You whine out his name, covering your face out of embarrassment. You began to grow embarrassed from him sniffing your warmth.

Ace ignored you, his face growing hot and red as he continues to sniff. You feel him slide his tongue along your clothed cunt and you yelp out suddenly as you felt his mouth latch onto your clothed warmth. “Smells so good~ It tastes even better~” He sighs out, lapping and sliding his tongue along your clit. You mewl out softly while your your began to curl within your knee-highs, hoping that Ace would just pull your panties off and eat you up already.

You didn’t expect him to do the opposite, pulling his head up and away from your push which makes you whimper out. The bell on his collar jingles as he moves his head back up to you, a smirk appearing across his face as he begins to tug at his shorts. He pulls his shorts and briefs down, his hard cock slapping up against his lower tummy in the process. He sighs out softly with neediness, laying back onto his back before propping himself up with his elbows.

“Come on- Your scent is making me more impatient!” He urges you, his finger taunting you over to him. You sigh and crawl over to him, the bed sinking beneath both of your weights as you moved in closer to him.

…

You mewl out as you bobbed your head up and down, stroking what couldn’t fit inside past your pretty soft lips. His tip continuously hitting the back of your throat while you continued to drool on his length. Ace lapped between your folds, keeping your hips down against his mouth and grinding your hips along his tongue. You moan out as his tongue slurps from your clit to your entrance repeatedly, teasing your sticky hole while still pleasuring your pussy overall.

Ace begins to buck his hips up into your mouth, shoving his length a bit farther down into your throat as get a bit more pleasure. His nails scratched at your lower back as he begins to growl into your cunt, his cock twitching against your tongue. You continuously huff out as you continue to take his length, your brows furrowing as you were focused on making him cum.

A grip to your strands causes you to moan out before you feel ace pull your head up, pulling your mouth from his length and making you gasp and breathe deeply for air. Ace continues to lap and slurp at your cunt, keeping a grip on your strands to prevent you from dipping your head back down to suck him off.

He doesn’t want his seed going to waste.

You arch your back as you struggled to break from his grasp, moans leaving your lips as you felt him slide his tongue past your entrance. “Mmgh! Ace! A-Ace let me suck your dick pleaseee~” You begged him, gripping his shirt as your eyes begin to roll up. He doesn’t answer but his tongue does speed up inside of your cunt, making your body shudder and trembled against him. Your walls fluttered around his tongue as you begin to grind your hips and ride his tongue.

“Fuck! Fuck Ace I’m close!~” You whine out, your mouth slowly opened as your toes began to curl once again. Ace finally pulls away and makes you whine out in irritation. He sighs out and sits up, his grip on your hair releasing as he chuckled. “Can’t have us wasting my cum baby, and neither yours too.” He says, smirking down at you.

…

“Alright baby, are you ready to take my dick and get knocked up?” He asked, his eyes staring up into your eyes. You look down as his cock against your folds and sigh before nodding. Ace presses his hands to your hips, his cock throbbing against your pussy as he yearned to feel your warmth around him. You slowly lift your hips while he held his cock up for you, his tip already pressing up against your entrance.

You inhale deeply, holding your breath before lowering yourself onto him. A slightly pained gasp left your lips as he stretched you out like he always did. Ace made sure you took it slow, his hands holding your hips tight and steadily so he wouldn’t hurt you as much. “Ahhhh~ Y-You’re so fucking big~ Fuck Ace~” You huff out, laying up against his shoulder as you struggle to lower yourself onto his length.

Ace chuckles and nuzzles up close against you, slowly pulling your hips down and making you whimper out in pain. “Shh Shh, you’re taking it so well baby. Just a few more inches and it’ll all be in deep inside of your pussy~” He whispers to you, still pulling you down onto his thick length. You nodded but huff out heavily, trying your best to keep your composure as he finally bottoms out inside of you.

You sigh out but hyperventilate, relieved that you took all of his length deep in your cunt. You whimper and trembled against him, your eyes looking up at him with a pained pout. Ace pulls you into his shoulder, combing his fingers through your strands as he urged you to bite him. “Bite me baby, relax yourself~” He tells you, pushing you against his skin. You run your fangs along his skin and slowly bite, sucking up a bit of his blood to calm yourself down.

Your hands softly claw at his back as you tried to relax, a mewl leaving him as he inhales your scent once again. You remove your fangs and sigh out, looking back up at him with your glistening eyes. Blood spills out of his fresh little wound as he smiled down at you. “Okay, I’m ready…” You tell him, biting your lower lip softly. “Are you sure my sweet? Your pussy’s stretched enough to fit me in without hurting?” He asked, tilting his head. You nodded and pull away from his shoulders, wiggling your hips a bit against him.

“Aren’t you the one who was so ready to breed me?” You teased, snickering to him. He chuckles and holds your hips tight.

“Fine fine, I’m ready. I’ll let you start first.”

“Ride my cock like my cute lil’ vampire cowgirl~”

You begin to bounce yourself on his cock, moaning out as your pussy sucked in his length so hungrily. Ace watches in arousal and awe as your walls fluttered around his thick length, a few pants leaving him while his hears twitched from every moan you released. “Ah~ S-So good!~ Your cock always hit all the right spots!” You moan out to him, your brows furrowing as you place your hands behind yourself to balance.

“Your pussy’s always taking my cock so good~ I can’t wait to fucking fill it up and knot up inside of you.” Ace pants, the bell on his collar jingling which every movement you took. You arch your back and throw your head back softly, shutting your eyes tightly as you felt pure ecstasy from length. You could already feel yourself growing close to your orgasm, but Ace was nowhere near climax.

“Ace! F-Fuck Ace!~” You yell out, your voice shaky as you sighed out against him. Ace quirks a brow and smiles to you. “Cumming already pretty girl? Stop for me.” He urges you, his hands gripping your hips tight. You whine out angrily, not wanting to to moving your hips against him. “B-But Ace!~” You whine in protest, not wanting to stop.

“Ah Ah. Stop. Now.” He demands, pressing a hand to your tummy. You whine and obey, slowly pulling yourself off of his cock.

“Turn around, let’s do reverse cowgirl instead~”

You flip your yourself over, staring at the headboard before looking back down at his cock. You slowly lower yourself back into his length, this time taking it inside your pussy a bit easier before continuing to bounce yourself on his length. Ace grips your hips once again, guiding you and pulling you down on to his cock. You rolled your hip against his, your breasts bouncing as you began to pick up the pace.

“Just like that baby, keep going~” Ace groans out, his hand reaching out and kneading your ass while you continue to ride him. You mewl out as you reached down to play with your clit, the pleasure once again clouding your mind as you felt yourself growing close again. “P-Please don’t stop me Ace, I’m so close~” You begged, moaning out as you gripped the sheets beneath you. Ace moves in closer to you, his lips pressed close up against your ear while one of his hands reach out to your breast.

“I’m not stopping you baby, I wanna see that pussy cumming on me~” Ace whispers to you, a smirk spread across his face as he watched you melt against his body.

You whimper out and arch your back against him again, so close to climax that you were necessarily focused on anything else anymore. “Ahhh! Fuck Ace!” You mewl out his name again, a whine leaving your lips as you chased for your orgasm.

A pair of hands grips your thighs and pulls your legs up far, with Ace lying back onto the mattress while you stare down in slight shock. “A-Ace!?- MMGH~” Your words were cut off with a swift yet hard thrust deep inside of your pussy, with Ace having you spread out in a full nelson for a better angle. “Relax now, I’m going to be finishing up for us both~ I’m close myself now~” Ace tells you, his tongue lolled out as he began to pant heavily into your ear.

You moan and gasp out against him, biting your bottom lip tightly as you felt neither helpless or helpful in the situation. “O-Oh god yes! Good boy! You’re such a good boy! Fucking my pussy this fucking good!~” You gasp out, your eyes rolling up as he begins thrusting up inside of your needy pussy. Ace growls out from your praise and thrust into you a bit harder, a whine leaving past your lips as your legs began to twitch.

“Fuck look at you, taking my cock so fucking good~ You’re just ready to be bred aren’t you? Ready to take my fucking cum ain’t you!?” He snarls into you ear, huffing heavily as his body began trembling. You nodded against him, now yearning for him to just finally cum inside of you like the needy dog he was.

“Y-Yes!~ I want your puppies so fucking badly!~ Please knot me like my good boy you are Ace!~” You begged him, your toes cramping as they were curled for so long. Ace whimpers out as he felt himself finally growing close, nearly tipping over the edge. “Fuck if you keep calling me your good fucking puppy I might just do it!~” Ace moans out, his nails scratching against your skin and nearly drawing blood.

“Oh my good boy! Please fucking knot me!~” You gasped out, needing just a few more thrusts to cum out all over his cock. Ace groans out, trying his best to hold out and wait until you came before he could. Feeling your walls tighten around his length, he increases his momentum making you whine out while you threw your head back.

“Fuck fuck baby I’m cumming, I’m gonna cum!~” You gasp out, groaning out heavily as you squirt out on his length and on the sheets below you both. Ace watches as you yell out in pleasure, out of breath and energy as your juices ran down your slit and his cock. Ace thrusts into you a few more times before he can finally cum deep inside of you.

“Fuck I’m fucking cumming!~ I’m gonna knot you baby! I’m knotting you! FUCK!-” Ace howls out and holds you in place, his cock spurting his thick and sticky seed deep inside of your pussy. You mewl out as you felt his warm seed fill you up, shooting up deep inside of your womb and filling you up. You tried to sit up a bit but Ace prevents you from moving, wanting you to be careful.

“Ah ah- Don’t move~ I’m knotting inside of you baby~” Ace sighs out, his arms wrapped around your torso softly to keep you warm and still. You mewl out and relax against his chest, breathing a bit better while you leave orgasm finally toned down.

“I love you baby~ I can’t wait to see your tummy swollen with my babies~” Ace says, smiling at you before pressing smooches against your skin. “I love you too my good baby boy~” You mewl out softly, just sitting back and yawning against him. “How long will it be before I can actually get up and move again Ace?” You asked him, quirking a brow to him. Ace gives you a nervous look before laughing nervously.

“I…I don’t even know myself.”

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part seven

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Seven - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 2k

The road stretches out before us, a seemingly endless ribbon of asphalt cutting through the desolate landscape. The car, a beat-up old muscle car with a purring engine that speaks of too many miles and too many battles, rumbles beneath us. The seats are worn, their once-plush leather now cracked and faded, much like the people riding in them. The air inside is stale, carrying the faint scent of gasoline and sweat, mingled with the metallic tang of blood that seems to cling to everything we touch.

I lean back, my body sinking into the seat as I close my eyes, trying to find a moment of respite. The gentle vibration of the road beneath the tires lulls me into a light, uneasy doze. But it’s not enough—never enough—to ward off the nightmares that wait just beyond the veil of sleep. Images of my world, my friends, everything I’ve ever known, shattered and dying, claw at the edges of my consciousness. The sounds of their screams, the scent of burning flesh, it all lingers, just out of reach, waiting to pounce the moment I let my guard down.

When I open my eyes again, the car is still moving, the road still stretching endlessly ahead. The world outside is a blur, the trees we’ve been driving in continue on for ages, but I can tell we’re close. Inside, the only sound is the soft strains of music playing from the car’s ancient radio, a static-laced tune that feels like a ghost from a time long past. It’s quiet—too quiet—yet I cling to this moment of calm like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

“You enjoy your power nap, pumpkin?” Wade’s voice slices through the quiet, shattering the fragile peace I’d managed to find. The nickname, as ridiculous as it is, grates on my nerves. I groan, my eyes fluttering shut again, hoping to block him out.

“It was so peaceful before you opened your mouth,” I mumble, my voice thick with irritation. There’s a part of me that just wants to hold onto the silence, to bask in it a little longer before reality comes crashing back in.

Wade’s gaze meets mine in the rearview mirror, his expression playful, as if he’s completely oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface. “I don’t hear Logan complaining.” 

Logan, sitting stoically beside Wade, rolls his eyes. The subtle gesture, the way his knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel, tells me more than words ever could. I chuckle softly, a hollow sound that barely covers the unease gnawing at my insides. 

Then, as if he’s compelled to break the fragile truce, Wade blurts out, “Okay, I’m just gonna ask it. What’s with the suit?”

My gaze drifts to Logan, to the yellow X-Men suit he’s wearing. It’s a jarring sight, one that doesn’t fit the image I have of him—rugged, battle-worn, but never in something so bright, so out of place in this bleak world. The realization hits me hard: I’ve never seen him wear it before.

“The first thing I did when I flamed out, I took mine off,” Wade continues, his tone light, almost mocking, but there’s a sharpness beneath it that makes my skin prickle.

Logan’s response is immediate, his voice low and edged with warning. “Drop it.”

But Wade, relentless as ever, presses on. “It’s not that ugly.”

“Stop talking about the suit,” Logan snaps, his irritation growing palpable in the confined space of the car.

Wade, ever oblivious to danger or perhaps simply indifferent to it, persists. “Did you make it yourself? Been there.”

Logan’s tone darkens, a growl rumbling in his chest. “Quit now.”

But Wade doesn’t quit. He never does. “The X-Men make you wear it? Those sons of fucking bitches. They are not your friends, I’ll tell you that. Friends don’t let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the Los Angeles Rams.”

The words hang in the air, and I feel the tension coiling tighter, a noose around my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the mention of friends—our friends—who are no longer here, no longer anything but ghosts in a broken world.

“Shut the fuck up about the suit,” Logan’s voice is a razor, slicing through the air. It’s ice-cold, and for a moment, I flinch at the intensity of it.

Wade raises his hands in mock surrender, but there’s a seriousness to his tone that wasn’t there before. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Watch your frown lines, angel baby. I’m just trying to bond a little bit.”

“Yeah, well then talk about something else,” Logan’s patience is fraying, each word a thread pulled taut, ready to snap.

“Fine.” Wade’s voice shifts, losing its edge. “If they can fix your world, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get out of here? Rubbing alcohol shots? Maybe a wiper fluid chaser?”

The word “If” lodges itself in my mind like a splinter, unraveling the fragile grip I have on my emotions. My ears start ringing, and suddenly, I’m not in the car anymore. The world blurs, and I see it—Wade, punching Logan in the face. The vision is jarring, disorienting, and then, just as quickly, I’m yanked back to the present.

“What did you say?” Logan’s voice is sharp, pulling me out of the haze, grounding me in the here and now.

Wade, his confusion plain, repeats himself. “So when you get back, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do?”

“No, no, no, before that,” Logan insists, his eyes narrowing, his suspicion flaring.

Wade hesitates, and I can see the moment he realizes his mistake. “If… they can fix your world?”

Logan’s expression hardens, anger and betrayal flashing in his eyes. Without warning, he slams on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt. The sudden stop jolts me forward, but it’s the look on Logan’s face that makes my heart skip a beat. “What do you mean if?”

“I mean…” Wade falters, his bravado crumbling as he struggles to find the right words.

Logan’s voice is a dangerous growl, the kind that makes your blood run cold. “You lied to me. You don’t have a fucking clue if they can help me fix things, do you?”

“No, I mean… No, fuck! Fuck!” Wade stammers, but it’s too late. The truth is out, and Logan’s claws are already extending, a deadly promise in his eyes. Before Wade can react, Logan stabs him in the leg.

Wade yelps, the pain clear in his voice. “I didn’t lie!”

“You lied,” Logan hisses, his voice as cold as the steel in his hands.

I sit in the back, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of guilt and the crushing realization that there’s no undoing what’s already been done. I could have stopped this. I should have stopped this. But it’s too late now—too late to change anything.

Wade, his tone desperate, tries to explain. “No, I made an educated wish. Because I need you.” He pulls out a photo, his hands shaking slightly as he holds it out for Logan to see. “This, this is why. Right here. Because if we don’t do something, they die. I don’t know anything about saving worlds. Why would I even care? Because my entire world is right here in this picture. It’s only nine people, and I have no idea how to save it alone. I know how to fuck people up for money, but you, you know how to save them. At least the other Wolverine did.”

Wade’s voice cracks, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through his usual bravado. “Oh, fuck!” Logan twists his wrist. “I guess I’m stuck with the worst one.”

Logan’s eyes narrow, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Did you say you made an educated fucking wish?”

“They call me the Merc with the Mouth,” Wade tries to regain his usual humor, but it falls flat. “They don’t call me Truthful Timmy, the blowjob queen of Saskatoon.”

Logan’s hand twitches, his control slipping. “One more,” he demands, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Please, give me one.”

Wade, ever the joker, tries to lighten the mood. “Gubernatorial.”

But Logan is beyond reason now. He goes to stab Wade again, but Wade screams, the sound tearing through the car, reverberating off the walls of my mind. I’m sitting in the back, too shocked to move, too numb to process what’s happening. There’s no saving what I’ve done. No changing the hurt I could have stopped.

Logan turns to Wade, his voice dripping with contempt, his words a knife twisting in the wound. “You know what, you’re a fucking joke. No wonder the Avengers didn’t take you. Or the X-Men—they’ll take fucking anyone. I mean, you are a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. I have never met a sadder, more attention-starved, jabbering little prick in my entire life. And that says a lot because I’ve been alive for more than 200 fucking years. I’ll tell ya, that bald chick was right. You will never save the world. You couldn’t even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper. Motherfucker, I wish I could say you’d die alone, but it’s one of God’s best jokes that you can’t die, except that’s on all of us!” He slams his fist on the top of the car, the metal groaning under the force, and I flinch, my heart skipping a beat. The tension in the air is so thick it feels like it’s suffocating me, wrapping around my throat and squeezing until I can hardly breathe.

Logan stares at him, his eyes filled with a mix of pity and disgust. “You got nothing to say, Mouth?”

Wade flinches, the words cutting deeper than any blade ever could. His usual bravado crumbles, and for a moment, he looks like a lost child, the weight of everything finally breaking through the armor he’s built around himself. He looks away, his eyes dull, and when he speaks, his voice is barely a whisper. “I’m gonna fight you now.”

Logan chuckles darkly, the sound devoid of humor, and I feel my stomach churn, the dread pooling in the pit of my gut. The vision hits me again—flashes of blood, violence, and something far worse waiting just beyond the edges of my mind. My hands start to tremble, and I know I can’t stay in the car. I push the door open and step out, the cool air hitting my face like a slap. My legs feel like jelly, but I force myself to move, taking a few shaky steps away from the car.

Behind me, the fight erupts with a sudden, violent force. The car jolts as their bodies slam against it, and I hear the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh, the wet splatter of blood as it sprays across the ground. The smell of iron fills the air, sharp and acrid, mixing with the earthy scent of the forest. My stomach turns, and I barely manage to keep myself upright as I stagger over to a tree and collapse against it, sliding down until I’m sitting on the ground.

I curl up, hugging my knees to my chest, trying to block out the sounds of their fight, the horrible, animalistic grunts and growls that seem to echo in my head. But it’s no use. The vision is getting stronger, more vivid. Bright, flashing lights sear across my mind, and I hear a scream ripping through the vision—a scream that’s mine, raw and terrified.

And then, as if the world itself is breaking apart, there’s a loud crash. Logan is shot through the front window of the car, his body flying through the air before crashing to the ground with a bone-jarring thud. He rolls past me, his body leaving a trail of blood in the dirt. I tuck my legs closer, curling into a tighter ball, trying to protect myself from the onslaught of sensations that are threatening to tear me apart.

The vision crescendos, a blinding storm of light and sound, and then, just as suddenly as it began, everything goes dark. There’s nothing left—no sound, no pain, no fear. Just an endless, consuming void.

Next Part

A/N: I’m so tired, I need sleep updates will probs be slow.

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw @100percentlazybonez @obsessedwthdilfs @sun7lowxr @corvid007

[eddiethehunted]

i want you to touch it softly (ao3)

believe it or not, this one isn't a wip, it's COMPLETE! rated: m (to be safe, tbh could probably be rated t) | cw: drug use, horny discussion, eddie has a thing for his hair getting pulled (implied) | wc: 1.6k | robin/vickie mentioned, platonic stobin, mutual pining, steve being into hair care and skincare, idiot4idiot, the usual <3 title from ariana grande 'my hair'

—————

Steve’s curled into a corner of the couch, watching the movie with glazed eyes, his knees drawn up to his chest. Robin’s feeling a little buzzed herself, laying on her side on the other end of the couch, with Eddie sat cross legged on the floor in front of her, scribbling away in a notebook.

Without really thinking much about it, she reaches forward and starts playing with Eddie’s hair. He startles at first, glancing over his shoulder, but she just smiles at him and twirls a curl around her finger and he relaxes, so she doesn’t stop.

“Okay, I have to know,” she says, because really, Eddie’s curls are beautiful, just really dry and frizzy and she’s stoned and nosy and curious. “Is this a perm? Or is it natural?”

Eddie looks offended, shooting her a reproachful look over his shoulder and saying, “It’s natural.”

She nods, twirling a piece around her finger again. She can see Steve on the other end of the couch looking over sulkily. Jealous. She thinks it’s adorable, the way Steve quickly looks away when she glances over at him.

“It’s so crunchy,” Robin says, “how much hairspray do you have in here?”

Another affronted look. “None! I just washed my hair before I came here.”

It’s still a bit damp around the roots, so she knows he’s not lying. She gets her fingers really in it, pulls his head back a little bit, and he makes this weird sound in the back of his throat. It’s something between pleased and irritated, like when you pet a cat that can’t decide if it wants to purr or claw at your hand.

Steve huffs and pretends he’s still watching the movie, but Robin bets he’s jealous as hell right now. He has expressed to Robin several times how badly he wants to be allowed to play with Eddie’s hair but he can’t because that’s weird and guy friends don’t do that and he doesn’t want to make Eddie uncomfortable.

As if Eddie doesn’t melt into a puddle of horny lovesick goo the second Steve so much as brushes against him.

It’s not really her place to tell him how many times Eddie has complained to her about his own pathetic crush, though, so she never does. Just lets them both lament and pine and complain to her about how badly they want each other, and how sad and tragic and woeful their lives are that it’ll never be requited love. Pats Eddie’s shoulder when he covers his face and whisper screams into his hands when Steve walks by wearing those stupid jock shorts and lets Steve lay his head in her lap and whine about Eddie’s arms and his hands and his mouth and—kinda just everything.

(It’s only fair, though. They’ve both heard enough of her salivating over the short skirts Vickie always wears on their dates. And that one low cut shirt she wears that shows off her cute tits. The least she can do is listen, even if it kinda makes her want to bash her head into the wall sometimes.)

Steve likes hair, she knows. Skincare too. He likes products and he understands skin types and hair textures pretty well, considering she’s sure he’s never learnt anything cosmetic-related, at least not formally. He put her on some new shampoo a few months ago and her hair’s never been so soft and healthy and wavy before.

Eddie’s hair is dry. It’s kinda fried, even. It’s brittle and tangled and not really rough to the touch, but definitely not as soft as it could be, and she knows it drives Steve insane. Like, Steve likes Eddie’s hair like it is—she’s sat through way too many sexually frustrated rants about how badly he wants to mess it up—but he knows how to help it, and he wants to, because it’s like, his love language or something.

“Damn. Your hair is dry.” Robin glances sidelong at Steve again, trying to project her thoughts into his mind. “You should use a hair mask or something.”

“Some of us are poor,” Eddie says indignantly, jerking his head away. He scoots closer to Steve’s side of the couch, out of her reach, and glowers at her as he pulls his notes to the other side of the coffee table. “My hair’s fine, thank you very fucking much.”

“I’m poor too, dumbass,” Robin points out. “I just steal Steve’s stuff.”

Steve snorts, letting his head loll back against the back of the couch, his eyelids heavy. He’s been quiet all night—he gets that way sometime when he’s high, just stops talking and sits there, quietly listening to whatever’s going on around him—but he speaks up for the first time in over an hour to mumble, “Not stealing if I’m givin’ it to you.”

“Whatever,” Robin says, waving a hand. “Touch Eddie‘s hair, dude. It’s crispy.”

Eddie shoots a desperate, betrayed look at her, then says to Steve, “I will bite your hand off, Steve.”

“Mhm, bet you will,” Steve says, ignoring the warning, because Eddie is all cozy in his plaid PJ pants and Steve’s old hoodie and therefore about as threatening as a small gerbil, “lemme see.”

He reaches out to touch with only the faintest flush on his cheeks. It could easily be blamed on his high, but Robin knows him as well as she knows the back of her own hand. Steve is absolutely losing his shit right now. He’s just really good at hiding it.

“Dry,” he confirms. His hand lingers in Eddie’s hair and Robin notices that Eddie doesn’t bristle nearly as much when Steve’s the one with his hand all wrapped up in it.

Rude. But understandable.

“What the hell,” Eddie complains, but he sounds decidedly less irritated and a whole lot more flustered now. He’s nowhere near as good at hiding it as Steve.

Robin hides a smile when she notices how he’s not doodling in the margins of his paper anymore, but instead twisting a ring around his finger and staring hard at the wall.

Okay, she's more than aware of the fact that she started this, but she’s starting to think that maybe she should, like, go. Give them some privacy or whatever. Save herself of having to experience this.

“Th’s’not a bad thing,” Steve murmurs in his soupy, slow, stoned voice. Robin might not be into guys at all—especially not Steve, he’s like, Steve—but she’s not an idiot, she can tell in a purely observational way how the gravely sound of it could be sexy. She’s not completely oblivious.

Neither is Eddie, apparently, because there’s a strange glazed look in his eyes that Robin is sure has nothing to do with the weed in his system. His adam’s apple bobs as Steve runs his fingers through his hair, tugging a bit near the roots to pull Eddie’s head closer.

Eddie goes willingly. Quietly. Steve looks delighted, a big stupid smile on his face.

She is seriously such a genius. Steve owes her, seriously.

“Not a bad thing,” Eddie echoes.

“No, s’nice like this anyway.” Steve gathers it all into one hand, like a ponytail, before letting it fall slowly, playing with it like that over and over as goosebumps break out over Eddie’s neck.

“How do I—” Eddie sounds like he’s choking, the back of his ears and neck bright red. “Uh—make it better?”

“A hair mask might help,” Steve says, rolling onto his side so he can get both hands in Eddie’s hair. He’s too out of it to notice the violent shudder that tears through Eddie’s body. “You should do a porosity test.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie says blankly. Robin nearly cackles. Eddie has no fucking clue what’s going on. He checked out the second Steve got his hands in his hair.

“That’s the one where you see if your hair floats?” she prompts, when it’s clear Eddie isn’t going to say anything else, too dumbfounded to process anything that Steve’s saying to him.

“Mmmhm.” Steve gives a little smile, pleased that she remembers, and of course she does.

Eddie’s eyes shut and he presses his lips into a firm line at the sound of Steve’s agreement, like he’s fighting some kind of demons inside. Steve’s still got his hands buried in Eddie’s hair, eyes glassy as he watches the frizzy strands run through his fingers.

“Maybe high porosity. Feels rough.” He tugs a little, maybe on accident, or maybe he’s too stoned to think better of it. “Wanna try a hair mask?”

“Uh,” Eddie says.

Robin kicks him, not at all subtly, and he coughs, straightening up a little bit.

“Uh, yeah,” he chokes out. “Um… if you think it’ll help, I guess. Why not.”

God, Eddie owes her too. She’s such a good friend.

Steve’s hands fall from Eddie’s hair as he pushes himself up to a sitting position, somewhat clumsily. He catches Robin’s eye, biting his lip in an excited smile, and she grins back, giving him a thumbs up.

“If the pizza shows up there’s cash in my wallet,” Steve tells her, getting to his feet and offering his hand to an absolutely flustered-looking Eddie. “C’mon, gonna show you how to take care of those pretty curls.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open, gaping like a fish out of water. Robin can’t help but snicker, grinning wider when he shoots her a bewildered, panicked look over his shoulder as Steve tugs him towards the stairs.

She curls into her corner of the couch, pulling the blanket closer to her chin and putting her focus back onto the movie as she waits for the doorbell to ring. Grease is always a classic, and, well, whatever happens between her two favourite idiots next is really none of her business.

She does turns up the volume, though. Just in case.

[tired-biscuit]

I need some more werewolf Kiba in my life! 🤤 I wonder, would he end up dealing with a heat of some sort or would he try to resist his urges? In this AU would Akamaru still exist?? 🤔

18+ fem!reader // cw: monsterfucking, breeding, knotting, scenting.

you best believe that if this man ends up slipping into heat while you're near, he's definitely not resisting the urge to break you in half whilst trying to breed you.

as a matter of fact, he can't resist it.

i think he's just way too rash and reckless by nature to keep himself in-check, you know? he acts before he thinks and you just smell so sweet, you lure him right in, make him stalk you around the house. so before you know it, he's got you caged in on the bed with the help of his immense weight, with your cheek pressing into the pillow and your ass pushing high in the air.

he's grunting, nearly whining breathlessly as he holds your wrists pinned to your lower back and drags the tip of his nose down the outline of your slit that you hide from him with the help of your panties. literally nosing around, he bumps against your clit and pushes against the little button of nerves with utmost eagerness. the little submissive sound that is your gasp only spurs him on further.

your body tenses as he inhales deeply, then; so deeply that it makes you squirm from the insecurity to hit you. by now, you've grown accustomed to the slightly odd thing he has for smelling you all the time, stealing little whiffs whenever he hugs you or kisses your neck, but this time it's different. the sound is so obvious, and thus awfully lewd, so much so that you're nearly sinking your teeth into the pillow from how flustered it makes you as your thighs rub together.

you know that his sense of smell is even more sensitive during this time - he's sheepishly told you about it at some point in your relationship, when you'd finally convinced him to talk more about this side of him and everything that comes along with it. still, despite the knowledge, you can't stop the blush that now rapidly sears your face when he mutters something along the lines of how he could distinguish the scent of your 'pretty little cunt' from miles away; can't stop yourself from swallowing audibly when he grits out how it drives him 'fuckin' batshit crazy'.

so you suppose it's not even that weird for him to have drool nearly dripping down his large canine teeth when he's got the thing that invokes all of that frustration within him right there; right in front of his goddamn nose. it's evident how badly he yearns for you, it makes your heart wish to dance in your chest. your arousal smells like warm honey and he wants - needs - to bury his face right between your legs and lap at that sweet, warm place until it's sticky and wet enough to take his cock.

and speaking of it, he knows he's gotten big; much bigger than normal, not to mention the knot and the way it's achingly throbbing, but you'll make it work, right...? you always do. you're his little human mate and you have to make it work, because he needs release, the rut demands it. his skin feels like it's pulling much too taut to bear, and his bones feel heavier, his teeth feel sharper, his claws are out and he can't for the life of him stop the heavy breathing and the deep growling that's constantly rumbling in his chest and scratching the back of his throat.

he tries to play nice, he really does, but he's irritated and impatient; the heat cooks his brain and turns it into mush. he attempts to tug your panties to the side, but instead he tears them right off with the help of two claws. tries to lap at you slowly, laggardly, but ends up spitting onto your pussy and shoving his tongue inside instead just so you'll get wetter faster. he paws at you instead of caressing you like he normally does. nips at your skin instead of kissing it.

his instincts kick in and suddenly he's had enough. he snarls as the bed protests with loud creaks when he mounts you. you freeze at the deep, threatening sound; at the way his warm breath fans the back of your neck. he's so close, predator on top of prey; panting right into your ear, eyeing the cold sweat that gleams on your skin.

it feels like he's going to swallow you whole. you swear you can feel saliva drip onto your shoulder.

"you're a good lil' mate, aren't you?" he murmurs at some point and lets go of your wrists so that he can wrap his arm around your middle from underneath. your eyes flutter shut as you feel his claws dig into your soft flesh and drum against it. the sensation is shiver-inducing but you will your body to turn pliant instead of stiff. you let him do what he wants because you trust him, he's your boyfriend above all else.

"mh-... mhmm," is all you manage in return. it always makes your toes curl when he calls you his mate. nobody has ever called you that before, at least not as effortlessly as he does. you don't doubt that he can smell the spike that appears in your hormone levels at the word, even you can feel the gush of warmth that rushes down, down, down.

"'course you are... my. lovely. little. mate," he grits out the last word after he's finished pushing another inch into your warmth. you tremble, feeling your legs attempt to squeeze shut as a bead of the mixture of his spit and your slick slides down your thigh.

you've turned so wet that it's low-key pathetic. especially because his voice is coarse enough now that it sets your insides outright on fire as he whispers, "so... you're gonna keep bein' lovely for me by taking my knot, right?" he pauses and pushes yet another inch in, nearly making you cream on the spot. the way your hole flutters and clamps down on him like a vice makes him chuckle. "you'll- hah, mm... you'll do this for your mate, won't you? let him breed you? he needs to do it so bad, bunny... you don't understand how badly he needs to do it."

he's trying so fucking hard to be considerate with the way he treats you, going on and on and asking you for permission even if he's already painfully deep inside you and loud squelching fills the room. still, the moment you nod your head yes, the headboard of the bed ends up slamming against the wall nonetheless, because the beast within him roars to just take care of his needs already, otherwise the heat will burn him until he's nothing but ash. it will kill him. it'll make you lose your mate, he's sure of it.

and somewhere deep inside, where he's more human instead of monster, he feels bad for submitting to the urge; so, so bad for being this rough with you and stretching you out way past your humanly limits. for being this selfish. this greedy. he even makes you cry when he sinks in to the hilt, poor, poor you.

but he'll only care about it after he's finished fucking his pups into you. when you're stuck together and he's whining about how he hopes they'll stick as he keeps you stuffed full with his knot. when he's done his job and has satisfied the rut.

[makeyoumine69]

Sorry Not Sorry (commission)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: After a rough scene outside the club, Patrick decides to teach you some manners in a pretty dangerous way, so the next time you will keep your mouth shut.

CONTAINS: Smut, mild dub-con, Daddy kink, Degradation kink (slut-shaming), oral sex (Patrick receiving), gun play, hitting, choking (on his dick lmao), cum swallowing, fingering, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, pet names, Dom!Patrick, hate sex (kinda).

WORDS: 1.7k

A/N: This is a commission for my dear @emmieson, thanks so much for asking me to write for you, I enjoyed every moment of it!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]💕

You knew that Bateman hated any sign of disrespect or bad attitude - he was the man of power who craved control as it was his most addictive drug - to have you on a short leash. But everyone and everything had its own limits, so when Patrick deliberately flirted with some random chick in the club that night, you didn't pretend to be okay with it, hell no.

After a brief argument outside the club, Patrick dragged you into the first cab he saw. The ride seemed to take forever as you were both so irritated and angry that the taxi driver had to turn around to make sure you were not going to destroy his car.

In the elevator, Bateman almost slammed you against the metal wall, his big hand wrapped around your throat. "You better keep your mouth shut or -"

"Or what?" You replied challengingly, clawing at his perfect skin, infuriating him even more. "You would kill me?"

With a low chuckle, Patrick tilted his head to the side for a moment before pulling you closer, his hot mouth just inches from yours. 

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, you little brat," his grip tightened, causing your heart to skip a beat. "And believe me - you don't want to know what I mean."

"Get off me!" You tried to break free, but it only encouraged him to hold you closer, the heavy scent of his perfume almost intoxicating. "If you think you can flirt with every bitch around - you're so fucking wrong!"

Bateman just grinned devilishly as the polished doors of the elevator opened on the right floor. Sniffing through his flushed nostrils, he grabbed you into his strong arms and pulled you out of the elevator, not missing a chance to nip at your neck to make you literally squirm.

"Such a stubborn girl," he growled while opening the door to his apartment. "Stay still or I'll fuck you right here," Pateman yanked you roughly, squeezing your hip painfully, you could feel his fingers digging into your tender skin. " Is that what you want?"

"N-no," you whimpered back and stopped wiggling. "It... it hurts, Patrick!"

His gruff chuckling echoed in your ears before you heard a loud click of the door lock and the next moment Bateman was pulling you into his apartment – when you were inside he finally let you go and  you almost fell to the floor at how unexpectedly he did it.

"God, you're a fucking maniac," you hissed, stroking your bruised wrist and catching your breath. "I knew I shouldn't have agreed to go out with you tonight!"

Your out-of-control tantrum didn't seem to bother Patrick at all, as he just walked past you into his bedroom. For a brief moment you urged to follow him, but then you decided to stay in the living room. Panting, you sat down on the big white couch, which brought back so many memories of the amazing moments he had fucked you right there. 

"Patrick," you began without turning around to check on him, your hands nervously fiddling with the soft fabric of your dress. "I think we need to have a serious talk."

"Oh yeah?" His suddenly raspy voice sounded so mysterious, but you fought the temptation to look back. "You think so?"

With every soft footstep, your heart was beating faster, because there was something strange, even dangerous, in the way he spoke.

"Yes," you exhaled as he stopped just behind the couch. "Because... because you crossed the line and..."

A sudden touch of cold metal against your neck made you flinch, but just as you tried to identify what it was, Bateman grabbed your neck, anchoring you in place.

"Don't fucking move," he growled into your ear before tonguing the area around it. "You don't want to get a bullet, right?"

A bullet?

Swallowing hard, you wrinkled the cushion and closed your eyes for a second. "Pat-Patrick...w-what are you doing?"

"Uh, uh, no more ‘Patrick’," Bateman growled, tilting your head to the side so that the gun was now poking right at your throbbing artery. "Try again better."

"Ahhh," a muffled moan instantly fell from your dry lips as he slid his hand under your dress, his sneaky fingers masterfully teasing your hard nipple. "I'm... I'm sorry, sir."

"Get down on your knees," he lingered on the last word, savoring how helpless and vulnerable you were now. "Do it slowly."

Trembling visibly, you didn't dare to make him wait and just did what he asked, but you still couldn't believe that he was threatening you with a gun. 

"Good, good," Patrick crooned and walked around the couch, towering over you like a fucking mountain. "Now... I want you to open that pretty little mouth and show me your fucking sharp tongue that I sometimes want to rip out."

Despite all your efforts to convince yourself that this was just one of Bateman's wicked games, his words made your blood run cold, but worst of all, your body somehow found it arousing. After a short pause, you stuck out your tongue and looked up at him with the most natural devotion you could master. 

Bateman had no choice but to snicker. "You like being treated like that, don't you?" He asked, twirling the gun on his finger - a broad, vicious smile never leaving his perfect face. "Because you're a whore. A whore who likes to be degraded and ruined," he slowly brought the gun closer to your mouth until the barrel slid along your tongue. "'C'mon, I'm not gonna judge you," his mocking laughter only made your face burn from the inside, but when you saw him unbuckle his belt, you had to close your eyes to save whatever sanity you had left. "Lick it, slut. Polish it as if it were my dick."

There was no chance to disobey even if you wanted to, but you didn't because your body betrayed you once again - Bateman knew exactly how to push the right buttons so that in the end it was you who was yearning for more. 

Fucking bastard.

Without saying anything, you began to lap at the gun, closing your eyes in embarrassment, but he immediately yanked at your hair to force you to look at him, and once again you had to submit. 

"Dirty slut, look at you," Bateman taunted as he watched you attentively play with the gun while his free hand was busy warming him up, stroking his throbbing length with persistent movements. "Open it," his suddenly loud voice made you almost bite your tongue. "Open your fucking mouth so I can see it!"

Before you knew it, a hard, quick slap landed on your right cheek. "Sorry, I'm... I'm sorry sir..." you hiccuped, trying to hold back a sob, but in the next moment you were already thinking about how not to fucking choke on his huge dick that was brutally shoved down your throat without any warning. "Mmmhm..."

Seeing you gagging only inflamed his arousal, making him harder than ever and spurring him on to thrust into your mouth with all his might. Soon you would hear the thud of a falling gun as Patrick used both hands to grab a handful of your hair, almost winding it around his fist.

"Fuck," the man couldn't help but throw his head back, quickening the speed of his hips as they rammed into your face. "Your mouth feels so... fucking good."

Moaning around his meaty cock, you had to lean against his strong body to prevent yourself from choking, doing your best to breathe out through your nose, as shimmering tears finally ran down your strained face. As if that was not enough, Bateman abruptly pulled out with a loud pop before deftly picking you up and throwing you on the white couch behind you.

"A-aww, Daddy," you whimpered pitifully as he manhandled you so easily, his skilled hands finding their way under your skirt without any resistance, and in the next moment you were already shaking erratically from the pulsating, burning sensation in your lower body as Patrick moved your damp panties aside and pressed his thumb against your clit. "Mmhm...oh my goodness...I'm so wet...I'm so fucking wet!"

"Shut your mouth," Bateman grunted, squeezing your cheeks rather painfully while his long fingers explored your oozing folds with a sound so fucking lewd that it almost pushed you over the edge. "I didn't ask you to speak, you stupid little bitch!"

With a powerful thrust, the brown-haired man pushed his thick cock back into your mouth, not forgetting to play with your lascivious pussy, rubbing your little bud with fierce circular motions.

"Mhhhm, Daddy," you managed to moan when he gave you a short break. "Drown me in your cum, p-please."

At first Patrick just laughed, enjoying the sight of your dumb little face. "Shit, you're so pathetic." With that he gave your moist cunt a few light slaps, making you squirm on the couch as if you were lying on the burning coals. "So, you like to play dangerous, huh? Maybe next time I should fuck you with the handle of my favorite knife?"

As soon as you were about to refuse such an offer, he pushed himself back into your mouth, pinning you down with one hand at the nape of your neck and using the other to finger fuck you rather roughly as he twisted and curled his expert fingers to stimulate that exact spot in your womb that was making you convulse uncontrollably. The heat your bodies were radiating was about to melt the walls of the living room, not to mention the lewd sounds you were both making as you desperately crested your high. It didn't take long for you to fall apart first from the way his thin fingers worshiped your throbbing slit, Bateman joining you almost a few seconds later, feeling your inner soft walls clench around his digits making him cum even more vividly than usual.

"You're mine," Patrick groaned through his gritted teeth as he watched his sticky cum dripping down your chin. "You better fucking remember that whore. Remember...uh...who you belong to."

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[neevblanc]

your cafe event is so cute!🩷🩷 Dazai hurt/comfort (the boy needs catharsis)...the word is scars. Thank you! -Iris🩵

a/n —hi hi iris!! tysm, im glad u think so :D i wanna wrap dazai in a blanket burrito like ppl do with their cats. hes just a little guy (in the tone of that tiktok audio thats like "what murdaaa?")!!! p.s i did ADA! dazai! sorry if you wanted mafia/dark era, pls let me know and i'll do another teehee

blanca’s cafe event!

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Dazai Osamu x GN!reader

Tags— angst, hurt/comfort, dazai osamu needs a hug, but pls dont touch him, or maybe do because it's you, wound dressing, themes of depression

CW/TW— self-harm (character runs hot water on hands), mentions of sh scars (non-explicit), trauma, disassociation!

please keep yourself safe.

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:

"I Bet On Losing Dogs"

00:32 ━━●─────── 02:50

ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ "i bet on losing dogs, i know they're losing and i'll pay for my place"

"Osamu? You alright in there?" 

Your voice sounded muffled through the wooden door, and the cotton in his ears just made it that much harder to hear.

The tap kept running, the water so hot it steamed against the basin, rising and wisping across his face and leaving a dampness across his skin. His hands lay directly below the water, and he knows despite his nerves screaming from the cold feeling, they are experiencing a burn so intense the receptors cannot help but be confused by the extreme temperature.

He doesn't remember why he came in here or what he was doing before.

"...Osamu?" The door rattles for a moment. He can't tear his gaze away from the rushing water or his reddening skin. 

The bathroom door opens, and the sudden movement in the corner of his eye is enough to drag him out of the fog. His head moves just enough to look at you, eyes blinking slowly. 

"What?" He mutters, mouth heavy. His hands are still under the tap. He watches your face fall subtly. With gentle (kind, so kind) hands, you carefully push his hands out of the stream and turn the creaky faucet. The water stops abruptly, stray drops clinking against the sink. 

"Osamu, can you hear me?" You say, and your voice sounds closer than it had earlier. Everything does- the way your clothes crinkle as you move to open the cabinet and gather a collection of things he can't muster the energy to pay attention to, his breathing, the shuffling of your shoes. 

"Of course I can hear you." He answers, blinking heavily. He's present enough to feel a pinch of annoyance. Another episode, spacing out like an idiot when he could be doing anything else...like annoying Kunikida, napping, reading the same book for the 86th time,

Or talking to you. You said something again, didn't you? 

"I'm sorry, what was that?" He hummed, blinking to gather his bearings again. You'd gotten him to sit on the toilet, lid closed, while you gently dabbed a cooling gel onto his irritated skin. There's a jolt of fear when he realizes his bandages lay on the counter, unraveled messily and leaving him exposed. Dazai figures he must've taken them off while he was under. 

"I was just asking if you could hear me, Dazai-san." You say, smiling at him despite the concerned pinch of your brows. He nods, smiling in return.

"Yes, I can." He answers shortly. His skin itches where you touch, and he attributes it to the burns despite knowing touch has always felt vile to him. You put the burn gel on the counter and lean back, looking at him for a beat. He averts his eyes, shame clawing at his face. 

"You shouldn't stare at me like that. You'll give me the wrong idea." He teases, but it falls flat, and he knows it. You huff a tiny sigh, pick up a roll of bandages, and hold out your hand. 

"Let me?" You say, and your voice is so soft he leans forward like he was chasing the sound. His hair shifts with the movement when he nods. Your hands are on him again, and he focuses on keeping his breathing steady while your hands move to wrap his arms. The fabric settles familiarly against his skin, though these seem scratchier than the ones he prefers to buy. Your application is just as kind as you, not as tight as he often does, to keep them from unraveling faster. 

"I'm sorry." He says, and his voice falters in a way he had worked hard to never let you hear before. You finish off the first arm before saying anything, crouching so he'd be forced to look you in the eyes. You brace yourself against his knees, and the tingles that come from the touch aren't as pronounced this time. 

"Don't be. I don't mind, and I never will. Not if it's you, Dazai." You assure him, absently running your thumb across the fabric covering his knee. You stand again and gently take his other arm.

Dazai lets you, a mess of feelings that all feel like they burn across his skin, hotter than the water that had bitten at his hands.

"You shouldn't call me that, you know." He mutters, frowning. You pause, and he knows you tilted your head in confusion without even looking up.

"Call you what?" You answer, moving to wrap another loop around his arm. He grins. 

"You called me Osamu earlier, hm? It hurts my feelings to return to Dazai," He whines, and you startle with a little jolt. Dazai suppressed the smile that threatened to grow at your surprise. 

"Sorry, I- didn't think you could hear me, so I thought it would shock you if I used your name." You explained, voice small. He smiled this time, looking up at you. 

"Mm, smart of you. Still, you can call me Osamu. I like the way you say it." He says- eyes narrowed in that way he can't help. You fiddle with the bandage roll in your hands, and he's satisfied to make you flustered again. 

You settle with another sigh, resuming your task. With you so close, Dazai can see how you fight off a smile. It makes him feel like he's won, somehow- like seeing the worried crease on your face melt away was his only goal, and having done it makes his skin settle, no longer buzzing and crawling like it always does. 

"Sure, if you're alright with it then." You answer, smiling gently. He averts his gaze and lets you finish, feeling cold when you step away to put the things back into the medicine cabinet. He stands, mindful of the gel still on his hands, despite the urge to shove them into his pockets like he often does. 

You turn to him once you're done, a little nervous. He waits patiently for you to gather your words. 

"You shouldn't wrap your bandages so tight. It's not good for your circulation. I don't know how long you were like...that, but there were still marks from them on your arms. Please." You say, leaning your weight on the counter.

Dazai blinks at you for a moment, but he smiles and nods. 

"Alright, I'll try not to." 

You grin at his reply and exit the bathroom without another word. He follows, quickly turning off the light as you walk down the hall, back to the main room of Cafe Uzumaki. 

There's a lot left to say, he thinks. He knows you have questions about the scars that litter his arms, some clean and some jagged and painful-looking. He knows you want to help; it's in your nature to help.

He wants to ask you to say his name until it doesn't sound real anymore, wants to feel your hands on his skin again because he wants to know if the itch was really from you or the burn, and wants to let you bandage his arms every day because you do it with an amount of care he is sure he does not deserve. 

But walking up the stairs back to the agency (where Atsushi will look at him warily in fear of another report being bummed off to him, and Kenji will ask him if city folk always take hours in the bathroom) next to you, he finds he can't bring himself to be as selfish as to ask you anything more.

[lost-in-lamentation]

may I humbly request an MC that has panic attacks and tries to hide it from Lucifer? 🧎🏻 can be romantic or platonic, I don't care, I just want some good old comfort, thank you 🧎🏻

a/n: i got you, anon!

content: your panic attacks become increasingly difficult to hide from the avatar of pride.

warnings: the reader has a panic attack; heavy description of how someone might feel physically.

important! everyone experiences anxiety attacks differently, and this is loosely based off my own experience.

lucifer × gen!reader. comfort.

leave it to MC to do it, let MC take care of it, MC can do it.

the words repeated like a broken record in your head, spinning your thoughts and leaving you dizzy. truth be told, you were getting tired dealing with everything all at once; RAD assignments, RAD council, and just the regular everyday tasks of reeling in a certain group of brothers. you sat in the common area of the house of lamentation with your head in your hands, fingers rubbing harshly against your scalp as you tried to drown out the yelling from the kitchen. you were at your limit and in no mood to deal with any sort of shenanigans. when silence fell throughout the house, you sighed in relief, only for your last shred of sanity to snap when the brothers abruptly crashed through the door, quite literally knocking it off the hinges. scrambling to your feet, you glared at the group of them. at the thought of being yelled at for not stopping the fight in the first place, tears unwillingly pool in your eyes. distant and muffled shouts from the brothers clogged your hearing, and you couldn't handle it anymore. with your hands covering your ears, you ducked out of the room, not wanting to be caught crying over something you weren't even involved in.

you stumbled through the hallways, blurred vision and muted voices not registering as you fought to get back to your room. when you were finally inside your own space, you collapsed onto the floor, bringing your knees up to your chest and burying your face into your arms. your skin felt like it was on fire, but your lungs insisted that you were drowning. unknowingly, your hands clawed at your forearms, leaving them red and irritated as you tried to shut out the voice that echoed from inside your own head. as you fought for air, your body shuddered with the effort, chest heaving while it searched for an anchor.

your anchor came in the form of a low voice, cutting through the wall you had built around yourself. it came in the form of gentle a hand pulling on your wrists, coaxing you to unfold yourself. garbled words eventually became clear, bright red eyes starting to pierce into the darkness as though it were your lighthouse, guiding you back. another hand came to rest on your chest, rubbing it soothingly until you finally see clearly and hear him calling to you.

lucifer released your arms from his grip, blinking at you slowly. his hand lingered on your chest, just above your heart. your breaths were shallow, unsure, and he hated how he hadn't seen the signs before you nearly crashed into him on the staircase. with a sigh, lucifer lowered himself onto the floor behind you, pulling you in so your back rested on his torso while he leaned back onto your bedframe. his hand fell down from your chest to circle your waist, and the other moved up to cover your eyes. you noticed then that his gloves were off, and that his palm was cool to the touch. you exhaled softly, relaxing into his hold and trying to regain control of your breathing.

"MC," lucifer began quietly, voice rumbling as he spoke. "you are supposed to alert me when these things happen." you shook your head, attempting to push lucifer's hand away from your face. "i don't advise you do that. i've enchanted my hand so that it stays cold. i would imagine you'd like to avoid having a swollen face after this."

you sighed in defeat before nodding. "i didn't want to make a big deal of it," you muttered.

"you will tell me next time." lucifer dropped his head into your shoulder, leaning it against yours. "i'd much rather i'm already with you when it starts, instead of finding you in your room like this."

"... alright." despite not being able to see him, you tilted your face towards his, trying to feel where he was through the hand the rested on your eyes. in return, lucifer removed his hand from your face, red eyes meeting yours briefly before he turned away and pressed his cheek to your forehead.

"i do worry about you," lucifer breathed out, his arm around your waist shifting to hug you tight. "i'm aware of the strain my brothers might- or, will, cause. so please, MC. indulge me, and allow me to take care of you like this."

you nodded slowly, your fingers ghosting across the arm that was wrapped around you. it felt just a bit easier to breathe with him here. "only if you'll let me take care of you too."

behind you, lucifers shoulders bounced lightly with laughter. "i'd be alright with that exchange."

"it's a deal then," you murmured, eyes falling shut as exhaustion took over. lucifer hummed in response, waiting until your breathing had finally evened out.

"deal," he repeated to himself before hoisting you up in his arms and placing you on your bed. lucifer gazed at you tenderly, affection sparkling in his irises as he positioned himself next to you, tugging you close. "rest well."

a/n: love a good comfort prompt

[bullet-prooflove]

Sleepless: Harmon 'Harm' Rabb x Reader

Tagging: @keyweegirlie @dizzybee03 @snowlover250 @kenbechillin @too-strong-to-lose @buckysteveloki-me @sca3a @flopiboni @secretsquirrelinc @sportslovers-world @burningpeachpuppy @mandy426 @@al-lethan @thiashazzywriting @kmc1989

References to upcoming Nick Torres fic 'Right Place, Right Time'

Everyone has a case that gets to them, one that claws it’s way into your thoughts, keeps you up at night. Harm’s had a few of them over the years, he knows what it’s like to lose yourself, become obsessed, which is why he recognises the behaviour in you.

You’ve barely been home over the past couple of days and when you are, you’re irritable, distracted. You pick at your food before excusing yourself so you can dig through the boxes in the garage, the ones the two of you haven’t managed to unpack yet. He tries to help but you shoo him away. You need space, he guesses and for the first time in the history of your relationship he goes to bed without you.

It's a couple of hours later that he wakes up, he reaches for you only to find you’re not there. The sheets are cold and there’s no indentation in your pillow. He checks the time on his phone.

3:45am.

You haven’t been to bed yet.

He finds you at your desk in the lounge, your head in your hands as you study the dog-eared notebook in front of you, the one with the faded ink and messy handwriting.

“Savanna.” He says quietly, his large hands coming to rest on your shoulders. His thumbs chase over the nape of your neck, massaging the space where you hold all your tension.  “Sweetheart, come to bed.”

“I can’t, I’ve got to get through these notes.” You mutter, your fingertips massaging your temples.

“How many times have you re-read the same page?” He asks you, his lips brushing over the back of your head.

Your silence speaks volumes. He sighs as he crouches down in front of your chair, altering the trajectory until the two of you are face to face. You won’t meet his eyes, your head is tilted away, your jaw clenched. He can sense there’s something going on underneath the surface, something you’re not telling him. It prickles at you like a barb scratching at your skin

“Talk to me.” He says quietly, using his fingertips to guide your gaze back to his. “What is it about this case that’s keeping you up?”

He can see the exhaustion in your features, the dark circles, the red rimmed eyes. Your complexion is stark, pale. It’s been a long time since he’s seen you like this, not since the shooting back in LA.

“I was the lead on this one, ten years ago.” You tell him, your palm coming to rest flat upon the notepad. “It was my first assignment after the separation, Robbie was fighting the divorce, everything was messy…”

“You’re worried you missed something.” He says knowingly.

“I didn’t give it my full attention.” You admit, toying with the sleeve of your sweater. “I thought she’d deserted, I didn’t think we’d find her in an unmarked grave almost a decade later.”

You haven’t given him the details of the case not until now but he’s seen flickers of it on the news. A mass grave found in a contractor’s yard, six women including a naval officer in various stages of decomp.

“Her sister works for the Cold Case Unit in the basement, her reaction when Nick told her…” You trail off, your lips pursing together grimly. “I don’t blame her for giving it to me with both barrels.”

“She’s grieving.” He says softly, his forehead coming to rest upon yours. “Sometimes as investigators we don’t have the experience, the knowledge to make the pieces fit.”

“I just want to make it right.” You whisper.

He understands that drive, he’d had it after Diane had murdered. He hadn’t been there when she’d needed it and it made him feel culpable. He had run himself into the ground on that case, he couldn’t see what was right in front of him until years later when he’d finally confronted her killer.

“You can’t do that if you can’t function.” He reminds you before he gently tugs you to your feet. “You need to rest, get some sleep.”

“Just a couple hours.” You concede, his fingers entwining with yours as he leads you towards the bedroom.

“Uh huh.” He says non-committedly as he draws back the covers for you.

Harm has no intention of setting the alarm. You’ll sleep for as long as you need to. You’ll be spitting mad when you do wake up but in this case it’s better to ask for forgiveness instead of permission. He doesn’t want you out there, hunting down a killer if you aren’t at your best.

He climbs into bed alongside of you, gathering you up in his arms and you tuck yourself against him. Already he can feel you settling, the tension slipping from your body. His lips brush over your forehead as he whispers.

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

Love Harm? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[prismaticpichu]

For the fics WIP game: I think I know a little about some of these... might I ask more about Degradation? :o

You absolutely can!!!! 💕

~

So! Original name of this multichap is “Watch It Spread.” It was up for a little bit before I realized (at the time!) that the writing was a little choppy, and I never quite got back to it. But who knows what the future might hold!

Tho that’s prolly not the near future lmao, so lemme post as much as I remember from the outline! 😂❤️

• Starts with Zack & Seph in the science department, having been called down to deal with a loose monster that’s wreaking havoc. This “monster” turns out to be an Angeal clone, the likes of which Zack has difficulty killing—and, after hesitating to put Buster Sword through its heart, the clone slashes Zack across the arm, the fresh blood on its claws seeping into his open wound. Sephiroth kills the clone in retaliation; little is thought of the injury, save for Sephiroth comforting his rattled best friend and assuring him that their most tumultuous struggles are in the past.

Zack's heart sank. "I'm sorry, bud..."

Surprised, Sephiroth gazed at the boy, digesting the earnest echo of his apology. "It's over now," he said sincerely, the first thing that came to his mind. And it was: old friends, old stings, old betrayal… Sickness. Loss. Pain. It was all behind them, echoes of another era. Sephiroth's eyes softened as he returned his hand to Zack's shoulder. "You're my priority now."

A slow, touched smile danced on Zack's lips, something in his heart sparking with warmth—if not embarrassment, of all things.

Sephiroth nodded, straightening from the floor with an almost punctuated air. "Come," he said. "Let's go home.”

• In the following days, once the incident seems to fade into an innocuous scar, Zack’s personality begins to shift. He begins to feel more irritable, volatile. Different. Lashing out at small things from Cloud & Kunsel & even Aerith, refusing to go on missions for reasons he can’t quite explain. Everything just feels… off. And, one particular day, sitting in the office beside his friend, he hits his limit with Sephiroth. Kind questions of concern turn into screaming accusations—until, finally, Sephiroth roars at Zack to get out of his office. That he doesn’t want to seen him again until he pulls himself together. And it’s only then, walking through the rain in the heart of the city, that Zack snaps out of it. He realizes everything that he’s done over the past few days—all the horrible things he’s said, all the horrible venom that he’s spewed. He has pushed his friends away; he has severed all his relationships, had made them degrade and rot. And now he was alone. Zack breaks into a quiet sob, curling into himself in a deserted alleyway. And it’s then that, suddenly, amid his regret and anguish, that he hears a gentle voice calling out to him.

It’s Sephiroth.

Zack rushes into his friend’s arm in a teary apology; Sephiroth holds him close and apologizes back. After reconciling, they return to Sephiroth’s apartment, where Zack spends the remainder of the night. And it’s then that Zack discovers the wound on his shoulder hasn’t healed, and began to start bleeding again.

• Other signs lead Zack & Sephiroth to deduce that Zack is degrading: slight skin discoloration, flu-ish symptoms, and even a strand of silver hair laced between the black. Zack begins to freak out at the realization; Sephiroth tries his best to remain calm, although knowing deep down the fate that looms on the horizon. With Hollander gone—and Sephiroth refusing to leave Zack in Hojo’s hands, he is left on his own to find a cure. Meanwhile, Zack condition worsens, his mood swings becoming more apparent as he struggles to control the anger that keeps bubbling to the surface. He tries to go about his missions as swiftly as possible, but he is getting slower. Weaker. One mission, however, Seph is assigned to investigate and search Modeoheim. Investigate and search it alone. Yet in his burgeoning concern for Zack, he takes him along with him.

Not the bessssst idea.

• Tensions flare at the scene where Angeal was killed. Bubbling accusations and scabbed-over hatred rise to the surface again, all centered around the true cause and causer of Angeal’s death. Zack, his mind fogged by the sickness, reverts to old poison and blames Sephiroth for it all. Seph tries to reason with his friend, trying to calm him down, but his attempts prove futile. Zack will not listen to a word being spoken, as if he cannot hear hear them at all. Tensions escalating fast, Zack suddenly draws his blade, the likes of which he aims at Sephiroth with violent intent. Accusations continued to be volleyed—one after another—until finally, unable to take it anymore, Sephiroth roars that he was not the one to drive his blade through Angeal. This pushes Zack to charge at his best friend.

• Sephiroth is horrified, but forced to deflect nonetheless, trying over and over again to get Zack to yield. Like before, his attempts don’t work. Zack won’t listen; he won’t stop swinging his blade with deadly, famished intent. And it’s then that Sephiroth is forced to take extreme measures—to use his last resort. To do the only thing he believes will end this.

So, as Zack skids back, ready to charge again, Sephiroth does it.

He drops his blade.

He charges forward.

He charges right into Zack’s line of fire.

And he pulls him into an embrace.

"...Zack..." Sephiroth murmured, his voice rattling against the frigid air. "I love you."

• As the man hoped, his heartfelt plea to reach his friend does the trick, and the veil of degradation is lifted once more. Zack sinks into his friend’s arms and apologizes profusely, horrified for having repeated history, but Sephiroth assures him that it’s not his fault. Upon returning to Midgar, Zack’s condition worsens at a rapid rate. He falls bedridden and practically immobile, his hair almost completely silver over the coming days and hardly able to muster the energy to move. He asks if he’s gonna die; Sephiroth cannot answer.

• It’s finally then that Sephiroth storms into Hojo’s lab and demands to know what he can do to save Zack. The scientist initially mocks Sephiroth, claiming that this is a blessing and he’ll finally be rid of Zack forever. He claims that Zack, since he was not initially infused with G-Cells, will not grow a wing and simply lose his strength, but will indeed die due to the instability. He then cackles—to which Sephiroth loses his patience. He draws Masamune and threatens the man’s life should he not tell Zack what the cure is. Pinned to the wall, seeing Seph’s grave seriousness, Hojo does finally relent. He tells him that Sephiroth’s blood itself is the cure, but he doesn’t get to elaborate as to why before Sephiroth demands a transfusion. Hojo explains with a hint of genuine concern that due to the advanced state of the disease, a dangerous and potentially fatal amount of blood will be required. Sephiroth thinks back to a promise he made to always protect Zack, and he agrees regardless.

• The transfusion is done, with Zack barely conscious. It’s a success. However, upon waking up, cured of the disease, Zack detaches himself from the machinery and rushes over to his friend. Sephiroth does not stir. Zack tries over and over and over again to rouse his buddy—even under the screaming venom of Hojo, who roars that this is all his fault. Zack, completely distraught and engulfed by guilt, wraps his arms around him and apologizes for everything. He apologizes for Angeal, he apologizes for Genesis, he apologizes for failing his mission. He apologizes for ever entering his life at all.

• And it’s then, with those words uttered, that Sephiroth finally lets out a small mumble of consciousness. No sir—it’s not a magical tear that revives him, but the overhearing of the most cherished person in his life wishing that he never entered it. Sephiroth, still hazy, creaks his eyes open to an incredulous Zack. And he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“You… are the best part of it.”

• There’s a tearful reunion as Sephiroth climbs further into consciousness. He’s still a little shaky, but Hojo affirms that he’ll be alright—the likes of which he says with a little more relief than one might expect. And it’s then that, now with Zack in the clear, Sephiroth asks why his “blood” worked. Hojo goes on to unfurl everything about the Jenova project: from the implantation to the cells to the motherly monster itself. It’s a lot of information dumped at once, a lot of spears and lies and crushing weight all sandwiched between a single horrific speech.

And yet, with his arms still wrapped around his friend, who is safe and sound and out of the grasp of a deadly disease, Sephiroth finds himself feeling something that seems almost too fantastical to believe.

He’s grateful for it.

He’s grateful for the project; he’s grateful for the cells; he’s grateful for somehow having the healing ability to save his dying friend, because that’s all that matters to him.

He is alright.

Annnnnnd that’s basically where the story comes to an end—at least from what I remember from my outline!!! Obv there’s huge chunks missing, and the gaps in the plot definitely need to be filled in with some more characters and explanation. What about Nibelheim?? What about Genesis?? What about Cloud and the other friends?? Well… the answer is that I never really got there xD BUT! I’m not abandoning this story idea, and don’t ever plan to. So who knows! Maybe it’ll make a comeback sometime down the road <333

Tysm for your interest!!!! ❤️ And sorry for the LONG response 😂

[montcumbry-gaytor]

Goodbye Agony

Reaper/Gabriel Reyes x AMAB!Reader smut

A/N : this was the third prompt so I'm very close to being done with the prompts I made for overwatch but if y'all want definitely request shit of ur own cause I will write it

A/N : PRONOUNS FOR R ARE HE/HIM

FEM ALIGNED DNI || MALE ALIGNED CENTERED

TW : Orgasm denial, Violence, Mentions of sex for Intel.

You had spent who knows how long hunting down Reyes, Having to do questionable and unreasonable things for information on his whereabouts, seeing as he moved around frequently for talon missions.

Talon infuriated you, Everyone in it provoked such rage that your jaw could almost be stuck clenched.

But finally, after getting an informant inside talon, using tactics you weren't happy with to get the Intel you needed, you shuttered as you wandered the rainy streets.

He was here, according to the informant and the file of the virtual meeting talon had now stuck neatly in that basement that had your work messily displayed inside.

You needed answers, Reaper- Gabriel, had ruined you, had you both being amazing partners in the early days of overwatch, both in combat and romantically, that care for him diminished; for the most part.

Why did he leave? Why did he choose to turn to talon? What fucked up thought did he have made him turn to their ways?

It perplexed you, it dug a cave in the back of your skull, you haven't felt the same since, even turning down Jacks offer to come back to the refounding of overwatch, it just.

Hurt.

Hood up and head down, you shook off that ache, that inkling of sorrow could screw over everything if you found him.

Smoke, swirling in odd footsteps, You had found out it was the cause of an early type of Dr.Zeiglers Revival Tech, It always permeated some sort of dislike for her in the end.

You carefully followed after the footsteps, those heavy clanks that were all too familiar made you shudder.

Strapping down the electric knuckles to your hands, you held the trigger button, assuring yourself it'd work long enough to cancel out the technology that lets him control the wraith form.

He was there, holding a man neatly against the wall, seemingly interrogating him, it felt like in a flash you had his arms pressed tightly against his back, the electric current running through his body like an EMP.

His ghastly cackle made you grit your teeth, eyeing the man Gabriel had, who stared in shock, you nodded away from the situation and he took off, disappearing into the streets.

"I need answers, Reyes, I'm sick of cat and mouse."

"Bold of you to assume I'm the mouse."

He hummed out, grunting as you triggered the knuckles into the center of his back.

"Shut up, Why the fuck did you go to talon? What crazy idea is in your fucked up head that made you think that was reasonable?"

You spat, brows knitted together in irritation.

"What? Are your feelings hurt?"

"I have no feelings for you, not anymore, Gabe."

His tense shoulders dropped momentarily, he did that a lot, he wasn't one to express when he was upset, but his shoulders would always drop, you tried to shrug off that hurt forming, but it was too late.

He had you by your neck, pressing you uncomfortably into the structure of the building, claws digging into you, in a attempt, you brought your knees in, kicking into his abdomen, his back landing into the wall of the alley as he staggered.

It gave you just enough time to kick around his head, that god forbidden mask clattering to the ground as blood poured from his noise, bless those many moments you had in training.

"You were always a pain in my ass."

He huffed, rolling his neck, grabbing his shotgun, pushing it into your chest and holding you back to the wall, cursing yourself as you found no opportunity to strike him off guard, you had to stay on the offensive.

His eyes flickered at your neck, frowning at the sight of a hickey tainting your skin, the irritation on your neck from his choking making the bruise worse.

"Don't act like you care how I got the information on your whereabouts, Gabe."

You hissed, keeping an eye on his every move as his non dominant hand came to press at the hickey, his thick brows furrowed.

"How long have you been trying to find me?"

"Since you left, I don't know how long that's been."

"I hate you, so much."

You said, your voice cracking into a whisper, hanging your head down at the concrete ground, eyes shut as to avoid it all, you hated it even more when claws grazed your chin, bringing it up to meet his lips.

You didn't resist, but the mix of pain and sadness pooling in your chest fought that inkling of happiness it gave you, it felt like old times, before it all went to shit.

"Gabe, Why are you doing this?"

"-Because I hate you more than anything, but I still care."

Gabriel sighed, pressing his forehead to yours.

"I place, temporarily."

"I'd do anything to get out of here right now."

You whispered, pulling the metal off your hands, flexing them as you watched Gabriel pull down his hood, a configuration of hair and purple smoke pooling the top of his head.

"I wish I could fix what happened to you."

"It hurts, but I'm better this way."

"You were better when you weren't half alive."

You sighed, leaning into him as he guided you down the back streets, his mask tucked neatly into that coat of his.

"This reminds me of when we were younger."

Gabriel hummed in response, though you couldn't tell if it was in displeasure or happiness, you made it to a building, following alongside him into the hotel building, as soon as he opened the door he had his hands on you.

"Gabe.. "

You shuddered, gripping onto his coat for some sense of stability, unwillingly pulling off of him to strip of your clothes with Gabriel's help, shying away from his touch as his fingers grazed over more hickey's on your body.

"I wish you didn't have to see me like this.. i wasn't really expecting you to see me naked.."

You said, averting your eyes, quickly sealing them shut as Gabriel shucked off his gloves, his fingers coming to trace over the unpleasant bruising.

"I wish I didn't have to either, but you're beautiful even like this."

Gabriel sighed into your neck, you couldn't help but breath in shakily, 'just like old times', Gabriel no longer talking like he wasn't human, he was like himself before the fall of overwatch.

"I chose to be in talon, because they had offered to help the pain, Moira, she's been helping with this."

He said, shrugging off his coat, pulling his shirt up to expose his stomach, several scars, bullet holes, but more importantly chunks of flesh replaced with the otherworldly smoke, his skeleton piercing through it's darkness.

"Fuck, Gabe.."

You huffed out, catching your bottom lip in your teeth to hold back your tears.

"Has it helped?"

"Almost."

Dragging him into a hug, your heart sunk as he loosely wrapped his arms around your waist, defeated by his actions.

"Ive never felt better, though, I doubt anyone in overwatch could do something to fix what happened."

He muttered, pulling away from the crook of your neck to look at you, dark eyes that were so swallowed by that darkness, somehow still had that lively light in them that made the hazel color come out in them.

Bringing your lips to meet his, he easily reciprocated, pulling off the coat you were wearing and dropping it to your side, letting it crumple to the ground.

You could only focus on him, what was left of him, his body perfectly mesh with yours, like a long lost puzzle piece.

He easily lifted you from the ground, letting you hook your legs around his waist as he carried you to the his bedroom, laying you neatly in the center of the mattress.

It was a sight, watching him strip of his constricting clothing, his dark skin toned with muscle and freckled with scars, the ghostly swirls of smoke somehow looked good on him.

You kicked your boots off into the floor, letting Gabriel climb overtop of you, kissing your lips, down your cheeks and into your neck, leaving hickey's over the ones the informant left on you, hips grinding on yours, his bulge prominent through the fabric of his pants.

"Oh.. fuck.. just fuck me already Gabe."

You moaned out, gripping onto him for a sense of stability, running a thumb over bullet scars that had swirls of smoke spilling out of them.

"Only for you."

He sighed, tugging down your pants and underwear in quick succession, tossing them to the side as he admired the sight of you sprawled out beneath him, the moonlight peeking through the window to provide little lighting to your body.

He wasted no time pushing fingers into your mouth, commanding you to suck, which you complied, coating his fingers in saliva, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as he pulled them out, pushing them into your ass.

You let out a pornographic whine as they curled towards themselves, pressing against your prostate with ease.

"Gabe- holy shit.. haha.."

You laughed a little through your moans, eyes meeting with his as he raised a brow at your giggles.

"I think it's cute how you still remember how to get me fucked up.. ha.."

you hummed out, reaching out for his free hand, who intertwined with yours.

"I should be punishing you for letting my objective get away.."

His voice rasped, biting at the inside of your thighs, leaving you to gasp at the mix of pain and pleasure.

"Can you blame me.. I wanted to find you.."

You whined, squeezing his hand, he hummed against your skin, his breath flowing over your cock, which twitched in anticipation.

"Gabe.."

"You have a point, but I still think you could've let me get my Intel first.."

His hand slipped away from yours, his fingers slipping out of your hole as both hands coming underneath your thighs to raise your hips.

Without warning, his tongue slipped into your hole, your back arching at the sudden sensation.

"Gabe- ah! Sto—p ah-"

You whimpered out, clawing at the bed, a pit forming at the bottom of your stomach.

Despite your struggles, Gabriels grip never faltered, though his right arm game down on top of your thigh, his rough hands coming you stroke your twitching length that dripped with precum.

The coiling pleasure in your stomach threatened to snap as his tongue pressed against your walls, whining as you felt empty as he pulled himself away from you.

The unbuckling of his belt prompted you to lean on your elbows, panting as you took in the sight of Gabe, his cock slipped out of his pants, stroked by his experienced hands, thick veins coiled around his length.

"Fuck gabe... You're as sexy as you were when I first met you.."

You said with a cheesy grin, reaching out for his hand, squeezing it as his fingers intertwined with yours, it felt like you had unlocked a part of you that had been missing.

"You ready for me, Amor?"

He hummed, the 'R' rolling off his tongue, you would be lying if you said that didn't make your cheeks flush.

"As I'll ever be."

You replied, keeping your tight grip on his hand as he pushed into you, it wasn't entirely foreign, considering the things you did with the informant, but his sheer size was much more, leaving you huffing out thin breaths as he eased into you.

"Breathe, Cariño."

Gabriel hummed, pressing his free hand gently on your stomach, a light bulge poking through your skin.

"I can feel you there.."

You sighed, looking up with bleary eyes, unknowing that what you said was all it took for Gabriel's self control to shatter, his hand traveling to the right of your hip and digging into the blanket as he forced his hips in and out of you.

"Ga—be! Slow down-"

You whined, curling upwards to grab at his shoulder, his lips meeting yours but his pace never faltered, tip slamming against your sweet spot with ease each time.

"Ho-ld on Gab- ah!"

Pornographic moans spewed from your mouth, your brain not caring for form words as you were fucked mercilessly, drool falling from your irritated lips as your mouth hung open.

"Sorry Cariño, you feel so tight.."

Gabe hummed, his free hand coming to grip your thigh, so tight you were sure it'd leave a hand sized bruise tommorow.

His pace faltered as he grew closer to his release, his roughness didn't fail to bring you closer to your climax, clinging to him as he slammed his hips into you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room, echoing under the sound of your moans.

"Please- I'm gonna cu—m~ I'm gonna cum- oh fuck-"

You whined, gasping as Gabe's thumb pressed over your slit, denying your release.

"Not yet amor, be patient."

Gabriel said through ragged breathes, smoke seething from his mouth as he gritted his teeth.

Harsh thrusts left you gasping for air, your body shaking as Gabe's thumb left your tip, your orgasm crashing into you like a bus, cum spilling on your stomach.

It took little time for Gabe to take his final thrusts, groaning as he came, riding his orgasm out, the thumb of his clasped hand stroking yours, you sighed as he pulled out of you, a smile reaching your face as he leaned down to kiss your face.

"I love you, but I'll hate you tommorow cause my back is going to hurt like hell."

Gabe chuckled at your comment, crawling fully into the bed with you, covering the both of you up.

"Hate me all you want."

A/N : GABRIEL !!! RAGH!!! GAY !!!!

[claudeng80]

Inscrutable as a Shadow (High School AU/Animorphs AU 2)

“You know I can’t be gone more than two hours, and it shouldn’t take even that long. I’ll be back by fifth period. It’s just P.E. and lunch, no big deal, right?”

Obi knows he can’t say no when Zen begs, but for the sake of his pride he has to at least put up a token resistance. “I’ll miss history.” It seemed like a better argument before he said it out loud. What’s one absence from a class he sleeps through anyway?

“But you get to eat my lunch.” Zen waves the box in front of Obi like he can see the contents, but he doesn’t have to see a thing for it to weaken his resolve. Mrs. Zakura makes sandwiches Obi’s never imagined before, and every one of them is a delight. Obi’s stomach growls just imagining it.

“You have to be careful. I don’t want to have to be the one to tell Shirayuki something happened to you.”

Zen waves it off. “It’ll be fine.” He holds out his hand. “I’m counting on you,” he adds, and Obi gives in as he always knew he would. Zen’s breathing slows as Obi lays his hand on his arm, the calm that always comes over as a subject as one learns a morph.

And then he knows everything he needs. “This is going to be so weird, man,” he says, and with a deep breath he concentrates.

It has to be strange to watch. Zen’s eyes are wide watching him change, the shift so much quicker from human to human. He doesn’t have to curve his spine or grow feathers, just drop a couple of inches and go blonde. For a moment there are two Zens in the bathroom mirror, one scowling, one grinning.

<Does this work?> Obi asks, and Zen’s grin widens even further. 

“It sure does,” he answers out loud. “This is great.” And Obi would be lying if he wasn’t tempted to raise his math grade a bit by having Zen go take the midterm for him, but that’s a negotiation for later. Zen hands over his backpack, and with no further discussion he closes his eyes and starts his own morph.

Obi looks away. He never likes watching faces turn to beaks and feathers sprout from skin. It looks even worse than it feels. He doesn’t look back until Zen squawks, a whirring of feathers ending with a red-winged blackbird perched on his shoulder. Zen’s claws are sharp. Obi walks him to the window, tipping the glass pane out to let the bird go. <Meet you back here after lunch. Don’t be late,> he insists.

<Yes, mom,> Zen says, and he’s gone.

***

Obi’s banged up and sore when he gets to lunch, but more than anything he’s irritated. P.E. has always been his best subject, and it’s not like Zen isn’t athletic in his own right, but he hasn’t been this short in a while. It throws off his perception.

The door whacks him in the arm on the way in, because of course Zen and Shirayuki are buddy-buddy with the chem teacher and can’t just eat outside like all the normal students. Everybody in the room turns to stare, and for a moment Obi freezes. When he’s a dog or a mouse or whatever, he’s got instincts and reflexes. But there’s no muscle memory for being Zen.

It doesn’t help that his arm’s throbbing, too, the new bruise from the door just adding to the collection track and field gave him. Zen’s going to have some real questions to answer next week when he’s making up all the events Obi wiped out on.

“Zen!” Shirayuki runs up to him, hands right on his arm around the scrapes. “What happened to you?”

“Tripped on the hurdles,” he says, trying to sound as casual as a prince of the school should. Obi would prefer theatrics, but that would be a little too suspicious. <Apparently the pale imitation is not as graceful as the original,> he adds, silently so she knows who’s she’s got her hands on before she embarrasses herself. He’s trying very hard to be a good boy.

Nobody has ever accused Shirayuki of being a good actor. She does jerk to a halt, mouthing his name when she’s made eye contact. As if there were any question. It should be obvious enough by process of elimination alone; Mitsuhide has zero cool whatsoever and Zen would not trust Kiki with his body for anything short of a life or death situation. He nods, and because he can, he leans in close and whispers in her ear. “He thinks that policeman he was worried about goes somewhere in the middle of the day. He’s checking up on him.”

She’s not thrilled with the idea, he can tell from her face journey alone. It settles into a frown he’s never seen her give Zen before. “Well, come eat lunch. We can get that scrape cleaned up at the sink.”

***

The others think they can’t hear them.

“Oo, trouble in paradise!”

Shirayuki knows exactly where to find the first-aid kit, and that concerns him a bit. She does have a delicate touch with the alcohol wipes, and the scrape already feels better without quite so much track grit in it. Thankfully it’s mostly skin he lost and not so much blood, so if Zen wears long sleeves tomorrow they’re not going to have to bandage him up to match.

“Maybe they’re fighting.”

Shirayuki eyes the band-aids in the kit, none of them even close to big enough to cover the largest patch of road rash. Obi shakes his head and blond hair falls in his eyes. Apparently Zen’s little hair-clearing head-flip that makes all his groupies sigh does not come with the DNA either.

“We all knew he’d get tired of her.”

Obi clenches his jaw. Shirayuki slams the first-aid kit a little harder than she usually would, and they both pull out their lunchboxes. It’s hard to be enthusiastic about even heavenly sandwiches when he can’t help but feel like he’s torpedoing his best friends’ relationship. He’s no match for Zen. He always knew that.

“Yeah, usually he’s all over her by now, but he hasn’t touched her once.”

Obi’s hands shake just thinking about it. He’s gotten very good at not wanting, at not thinking about her. They’re friends. That’s important. And she loves Zen.

Sitting here in Zen’s skin is a temptation he should never have to endure.

He pulls a slice of strawberry out of the lunchbox and holds it out. <Here.> he says.

Shirayuki looks at him like he’s got a spider on his face. Of course if Zen were to do this, it would be an elegant motion. She’d understand right away, and it would be sweet and endearing. <The strawberry. It’s for you.>

“You should eat that,” she whispers. “You had P.E. today and you’re always hungry.”

She’s not wrong, but she’s missing the point. He checks the clock again; there’s only a few minutes left until time to go meet Zen. He’s got to do something, and the strawberry snack still hanging out there in midair is not it. He’s just pulling it back- she does have his number, of course he’s hungry- when her fingers close around his wrist. She leans in and delicately takes the strawberry with her teeth.

Obi doesn’t breathe. Too many pairs of eyes watch them; he can feel every single one on the back of his neck.

He knows exactly what Zen would do now.

He really shouldn’t do it. Shirayuki looks at him with those big green eyes, and even the way she chews is cute. Maybe it comes with the DNA, the need to lean in and kiss her. If Zen’s body does it, does it matter that it’s Obi inside? <I don’t know what else to do,> he says. His hand reaches out, slow enough that she can stop him at any time, and rests against her cheek. It’s as soft as it’s always looked.

He leans across the desk. She doesn’t pull away. No, she leans in and meets him the last few inches, soft and chaste and sweet as the strawberry he can smell on her breath. And she lingers, a slow breath until she pulls back and her eyelids flutter open. It’s the nicest kiss Obi’s ever had, and it’s not even his.

“I should go.” The words drag out of him with an effort. He should be more forgiving of Zen; the fact he gets anything done through this haze of sweetness is a miracle.

“Don’t be late to class,” she says. There’s a look on her face that’s not quite normal, and if he had leisure to study he would figure it all out, but there’s no time. “And finish your lunch.”

“See you soon,” he says. He does remember to grab the right backpack, and if he’s floating through the halls to the meeting point with a lovesick grin on his face, that’s no different than Zen looks most days. Nobody will ever notice the difference.

[tworoadsandapenny]

What You Wish For: Epilogue: Leo

The first of my 2 epilogues. I couldn’t help myself, I wanted to write the whole night from Leo’s point of view. I know it takes away some of the stoic mystery from his portrayal in Raph’s version, but I think it sheds light on other things that make it worth the loss. I dunno. You be the judge.

~*~*~*~*~*~

He took off. Again. Even though I told him not to.

What is the point of being leader if I can’t get those following me to trust and obey the simplest of instructions?

I hear the grunts and groans of a fight from nearby and can’t stop the jolt of fear that bolts through my skin. I knew it. I knew this was a trap of some kind. Why else would these thugs leave the safety of their numbers to take off towards the inner city? And now they might have my brother in their claws.

“Raph!”

Finally finding the alley he’s in, I jump down, swords drawn, only to catch my brother just as he finishes punching the lights out of the last of a pile of Dragons, all now groaning at his feet in unconsciousness. A sigh of relief escapes me immediately; he’s not hurt. And if this was a trap, it was very poorly executed; any one of us could have taken out these few stragglers on our own. Guess my gut was wrong.

That doesn’t excuse his actions. But I’m glad he’s safe. “Raph, what are you doing?”

“Couple of scrawny ones got away. Didn’t want them missing out on the fun.”

My relief is quickly fading into irritation at his unapologetic attitude. “I told you not to go after them. We were supposed to stay and check the warehouse.” I glance back at the pile of thugs behind him, eyeing them to make sure they’re all still deep in unconsciousness.

Something still feels off, but I can’t put my finger on what.

“Don’t get your shell in a bunch, I was gonna head back once they were taken care of.”

I shake my head, trying to refocus. I’m sure it’s nothing. “You shouldn’t have left. The dragons aren’t going to let us have their new weapons shipment without a fight. They’re probably sending reinforcements. We need to get back and help Don and Mikey.”

He’s rolling his eyes at me again, which means a fight isn’t far off. What on earth he has to be angry about this time is far beyond me, but I brace for the impact.

“I said I was gonna head back. If you’re so worried about it, why’d you leave those two to deal with it alone?”

“Because you took off!” I’m doing it again, I’m letting him annoy me into getting angry and I hate when he does that. So I try to regain some composure. “And I didn’t want you out here fighting alone.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Leo! I can handle myself!”

I can see him start to clench his fists and I know this is only going to escalate before it dies, but we don’t have time for a full fledged feud right now. So I pull the leader card. “I told you not to go after them, Raph. It wasn’t a suggestion.”

The way his hands curl into a tighter fist as he freezes—looks like we’re not avoiding the fight. Great. Just great.

“Oh, I see what this is about. The Great Fearless Leader gave an order and the insignificant subordinate didn’t obey.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. The dramatic inner monologue he must be telling himself is beyond my understanding. I want nothing more than to explain why his actions were rash and without thought—that none of this has anything to do with him, but everything to do with us as a team—but Mike and Don are on their own and the Dragons probably called for backup, so there’s no time to get into it right now.

Lucky for him. “We’re going back. Now.”

“Was that a suggestion?”

He’s getting under my skin and he knows it. Why does he so desperately want to fight me? We’re in the middle of a mission, can’t he at least wait till we get home and everyone is safely in the lair? My tone no longer brooks an argument, but I’m sure I’ll still get one. “No. It wasn’t.”

“Screw you, Leo!”

And here we go.

“I’m not some lacky you can order around with the flick of a wrist!”

 “I never said you were a lacky.”

“Yet you get pissed every time I don’t ask ‘how high’ whenever you tell me to jump!”

Not this again. “I’m the leader, Raph. It’s my job to give the orders!” And I don’t understand why he hates me for it.

“And don’t you just love pointing that out every chance you get.”

Oh for crying out—“We don’t have time for this.”

“No, of course not! There’s only ever time to berate your brothers, not explain your actions.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you!” I shout in his face before I can catch it. Shell, how is he always so good at getting me worked up enough to lose control? His eyes turn dark and I honestly can’t tell if he’s upset at what I said or smug that he finally got a rise out of me.

And something about all this still feels off.

“So that’s how it is, huh? The Great Leonardo knows all and doesn’t need to waste time explaining himself to the rest of us mere mortals.”

I hold in a sigh and try to explain. “That’s not what I—” but he’s in too much of a mood to let me finish.

“That’s exactly what you meant!”

He steps in closer, to be in intimidating I suppose. Or to make me see his anger up close. Either way, I stand my ground and let him talk. He clearly needs to let off some steam, so if it’ll get him to come along faster, I suppose I can stand and take it for a minute.

“That’s what you’re always about, isn’t it? Proving that you’re better than everybody else, that you’re smarter, stronger, and faster than everyone!”

Hurtful, but nothing new. I am fully aware of how much contempt my brother holds for me.

“And God forbid someone actually tries to measure up, you gotta knock ‘em down a peg to make yourself feel better!”

Now that… that was unexpected. I make sure to hide my surprise (and maybe a little hurt) behind my mask, taking a moment to keep my voice even. I should just let it go. We have to get back.

“You think you don’t measure up?”

He stops and I can instantly see the walls forming around him. He didn’t mean to say it, apparently.

“Where the hell did that come from!?”

And now he’s playing denial, which means I definitely wasn’t supposed to hear it. “You said ‘God forbid someone actually tries to measure up’, I assume you were talking about yourself.” I wait for a response, but when he offers none, I can’t help but nudge again. “You don’t think you measure up?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Then what—”

“I meant that you’re a selfish asshole and I’m done talkin’ about this.”

He starts up the building just as a droplet of rain hits my shell, but I’m still trying to understand what he just confessed so I barely notice the weather. I follow quickly. I know I should drop it, I know. “Raph wait—”

“I said I ain’t talkin’ about it no more! Back off Leo!”

But I don’t want him to think— "It has nothing to do with skill level, it’s about strategy. You left Mikey and Donnie wide open to attack.” But that’s not what I’m trying to say. How do I explain this? “We’re a team, Raph. We need to work together.”

He’s still walking away.

“Are you listening to me?” How do I make him understand? “You can’t go off grandstanding every time you dislike an order.” It’s not safe. How do I make him understand that I need him to be safe. “Raph, you need to—”

He turns on me with an anger in his eyes I’m not sure I’ve seen before. It makes me stop in my tracks. But I’m immediately distracted as a ghost of a feeling washes over every nerve in my body.

“I don’t need anything!”

Something is wrong. Something… I catch a wisp of movement out of the corner of my eye.

“I don’t need your orders!”

There. On the adjacent roof. Can’t look and give away that I’ve spotted him. But there’s a glint of something in his hands.

“I don’t need your leadership!”

A gun. Sniper. No…

NO!

“I DON’T NEED YOU!”

“RAPH!”

My body jolts into action out of shear panic, ramming my shoulder into Raph’s side to push him as far away as I can. There’s an impossibly loud crack in the air as the weapon goes off.

No time to think.

Without stopping my momentum from shoving Raph, I step forward and spin on my heel, whipping my swords from their sheathes in one swift motion, and lance a katana towards the sniper with as much strength and speed as I possess, aiming right for his heart. It hits it’s mark, or slightly above it, and the Dragon is pinned to the chimney he must have been hiding behind.

It was a trap. I was right.

I should have listened to my instincts. Master Splinter is always telling me. Raph could have been shot because I wasn’t… because I wasn’t paying… Because I… I feel dizzy. The roof is spinning and I can’t make it stop. I grip my swords, trying to ground myself, but one hand isn’t on my sword, it’s on my stomach. There’s something warm running through it. I force my eyes to focus as I look down.

My hand is red.

I pull it from my plastron to see red oozing down my body.

I’m bleeding. Why am I bleeding?

Understanding comes impossibly slow as I stare at the red on my hand. I’ve been shot. Sniper managed to hit me. But was I fast enough to save—

“Leo?”

I turn enough to spot Raph staring at me with wide eyes. He looks shocked, but not injured. No blood that I can see. I close my eyes and breathe out the dread I’d been holding. At least he’s—

Pain suddenly erupts from my stomach, so abrupt and intense that I can’t get a handle on it. It fogs my vision and I can feel myself falling but I can’t seem to get my legs under me to catch myself.

A broad shoulder appears under my arm as my brother is now at my side, holding me up. “Leo!” My vision is still swimming too much to make out details, but the fear in his voice rings out crystal clear. I’d try to reassure him if I could speak around the pain. I feel him move my hand to get a look at the wound and I use the opportunity to breathe deep and refocus as best I can.

“It’s alright bro, I got you.”

My body accepts the invitation and leans heavily on him without my consent. I’m trying to get my legs under me, get the pain under control so I can talk. “There might be more.” I scan the rooftops around us quickly but don’t spot any other movement. Though my vision is still a bit blurry. “Check the perimeter, in case they—”

“Not a chance. I ain’t leavin’ you like this.”

I don’t argue, I don’t have the breath for it. And he’s right, I won’t last long bleeding the way I am. But if there’s another sniper around here, he’s leaving whether he wants to or not. I open my mouth to say as much as he lowers us to the ground when my lungs suddenly feel like they’re filled with water. The cough that follows is loud and wet, bringing the taste of copper to my lips and spilling down my chin.

This is bad.

I’m trying to tamp down the sting that fit caused when I catch a glimpse of Raph’s face; he looks terrified. I don’t think he’s trying to hide it, which is even more worrisome. He’s staring at the wound like it’s a nightmare come to life and I can’t think of a single thing to say in comfort.

I default to pragmatism. “Pressure.”

“What?”

I place my hand over his atop my stomach and press down. It takes much more effort than I expected to keep from screaming at the pain, but I manage, keeping my calm as best I can. “Keep… pressure.” My voice is giving me away. “Stop the bleeding.”

He seems to pause a moment before replying with a curt “I know” and pressing harder. I’m actually relieved to hear that tone in his voice.

My head is swimming again and I can’t tell if the world is spinning or I am.

Focus. Finish the mission. We need to get back to the others, make sure they’re okay. The Dragons might have set a trap there too, counting on us to split up.

“The warehouse… Mikey and Don—” more copper taste, but this time it’s harder to expel. I have to turn on my side so I don’t choke on my own blood.

Raph holds me steady as I find air again. “I know.”

He needs to check on them. “Raph—" 

“Just shut up and save your breath, Fearless.” I don’t know why, but the name helps ground me a moment. “I’ll give ‘em a call, alright?”

Good. That’s good. I’d still prefer he go to the warehouse himself, but this is the next best thing. As he’s distracted with the phone, I allow myself a moment to grimace as another wave of pain washes over me. It’s getting duller… Probably means I’m getting numb. Or going into shock. Neither one is reassuring.

I’ll be okay. I have to be okay. I will not leave until I know my brothers are safe. I can’t.

I might not have a choice. 

I inhale slowly. Exhale. Forcing that last thought away with focused breaths as Raph continues to fiddle with the phone. He hangs up and redials a few times, and with each passing minute I can feel my fear rising. Something’s happened at the warehouse, I’m sure of it. My gut may be spilling onto the roof, but it’s still insistent as ever.

Raph needs to go. I’m about to say as much when he finally speaks.

“Yeah Don. It’s—”

I can’t hear the other end of the conversation, but I can tell by Raph’s face that it’s not good.

“Don, what’s going—”

He’s cut off again.

“Yeah. Don he’s—”

I hear a muffled shout and don’t need to hear the words to know Donnie’s upset.

“He’s been shot.”

I hear a cry come through the speaker and my whole body tenses.

“Don?”

Something’s happened. We’re leaving. Now. But the minute I lift my head to stand, everything in me goes weak. I can barely move, there’s no way I’d be able to walk, let alone fight. But we have to do something. I grab Raph’s arm so he’ll look at me. The angry worry in his face speaks volumes.

“Don? Don, you there?”

A desperate fear seizes my body that makes me want to hurl. What if he’s—

“What the shell, Brainiac—”

He’s okay. Don’s okay. Relief swells through me with such force, I lose the rest of the conversation. Raph hangs up the phone and faces me again, the worry gone from his face but not his eyes. He was never good at hiding his emotions. Disguising them behind anger, sure, but not hiding them away.

“They’re on their way.”

“Are they—”

“—Fine. Just taking care of a few unexpected stragglers.”

I know he’s lying. They’re in trouble. And I’m too weak to do anything about it. But Raph could still help. If I can just convince him to leave me here…

“Don’t even think it.”

He knew what I would ask. I’m unexpectedly flattered that he knows me so well. But then he must know I’m right. “They need help.” I’m about as close to begging as I’ve ever come, but Raph is focused on my wound.

“I ain’t leavin’ Leo. I leave, you bleed out.”

He’s not wrong, but that’s not the point. Another wave of pain crashes through me as I try to keep my wits. I look up to where the sniper lies motionless, fear creeping under my skin. “…What if…”

He catches my meaning and immediately jumps into denial. “They can handle themselves. Besides, what force in the universe has ever been able to pin Mikey down when he’s all hyped up?”

I smile, not only because the memories conjured are pure hilarity, but also because I can see the fear abate from Raph’s eyes momentarily. Making jokes at Mikey’s expense always seems to help him—

My body is suddenly lurching, everything in me working far too hard to expel whatever it is that’s blocking my lungs. The movement is painful, my throat feels scraped raw, but I close my eyes so Raph can’t see. I don’t want to scare him any more than I have.

As the cough subsides, Raph has turned his gaze away—nowhere particular, just anywhere that isn’t on me—and I use the opportunity to let my walls down a moment. It takes effort to keep them up, to pretend like I’m not worried and the pain is manageable, and I’m starting to feel exhaustion creep in. It’s falling on me slowly, like molasses dripping from a spoon, heavy and thick and I don’t know how long I can keep it at bay.

I should talk. Keep my brain active. But Raph’s fallen silent and I don’t want to say anything that’ll start another fight. If these are my last moments with him, I don’t want them to be filled with tension. I don’t want to make him feel inferior.

“That’s what you’re always about, isn’t it? Proving that you’re better than everyone else.”

I never meant to make him feel that way. Am I really like that? Do I build myself up by tearing the others down? I don’t try to…

“And God forbid someone actually tries to measure up, you gotta knock ‘em down a peg to make yourself feel better!”

I wish I could tell him I’m sorry. That it wasn’t like that. That the truth was—but he’d never believe me. He’d get angry and we’d fight and I can’t let our last interaction be a—

No. No, stop that. Stop thinking like that. The situation is bad, my wound is worse, but that doesn’t mean I won’t survive this. Pragmatism has it’s moments, but now is not the time. I need to believe that I’ll be okay. That I’ll be laughing about this next week. That this will just be another one of those crazy stories to add to our long roster of ‘times where we almost died’.

I’m going to be alright. I have to be. I have to—

“Hey.”

My eyelids snap apart like being startled from a dream. I hadn’t even realized they were starting to close. I turn to look at Raph who’s face is impassive.

“Keep them baby blues open, Leo. If you pass out, I ain’t givin’ you CPR.”

His voice is a comfort. His wry comment even more so. “Duly noted.” How long have I been dazed? Mikey and Donnie… where are Mikey and Donnie? They should be here by now, shouldn’t they?

What if they’re hurt? Or worse?

“They’ll be here soon.”

His words wipe away the panic, but not the worry. If we had any amount of cloth to make a torniquet, I could at least hobble at Raph’s side and head toward the warehouse. Should have asked Don for—

Pain erupts from my stomach without warning. My body is suddenly quaking everywhere and the movement feels like it’s tearing me apart. Gotta focus. Don’t scream. Don’t... But as the seconds pass, the pain dissipates. Everything does. I can’t feel myself anymore. I’m still shaking, I’m sure of it, but it feels distant. Like feeling an echo.

Darkness surrounds me, and I don’t think it’s because my eyes are closed. I think… I think I might be dying. Or already dead?

“Leo?”

No. I can hear Raph’s voice, so I can’t be dead. But I can’t open my eyes. Everything is heavy. Weighed down. And I’m too tired to fight it.

Focus, Leo. Fight the fatigue. I can’t abandon my family like this. Not till I know they’re safe.

Not till Raph knows I—

“Leo!”

He’s shouting again. Scared. Have to wake up. Focus on his voice. Focus.

“Leo!”

Breathe!

“S-Still here.” I manage to croak out as I finally suck in some oxygen. I can feel my body again.

“Don’t do that!”

He sounds more scared than angry, and I suddenly feel the urge to wrap him in a hug. Where did that come from? Hugging him would probably be as bad as trying to talk. I don’t know what it is, but for some reason, Raph and I are rarely able to connect. To understand each other. Every time I try to explain myself, it somehow always devolves into a fight.

I wish I knew how to tell him. I wish I could find a way around his defenses to show him that I don’t look down on him. I really don’t. At least, not on purpose. I’m too busy admiring his strengths to focus on his faults.

Alright, maybe I focus on his faults from time to time. But it’s not because I’m trying to hurt him. It’s because I want him to be better. Better than me.

And more than anything, I want him to be safe. He thinks that nights like tonight are me trying to coddle him or prove he’s not worthy. But it has nothing to do with him. It’s me. It’s always been me.

My eyes feel heavy and my legs are completely numb. Maybe I should say something… just in case.

“I know.”

I don’t see his face, but his tone is confused enough. “What?”

“I know… you don’t need me.”

His defenses rise immediately, I can practically see the wall forming between us. But I have to say this. He has to know.

“You still… don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

There’s that anger. Present but restrained. Maybe he’ll hear me this time.

“That it’s not—” another sharp shot of pain ricochets through my body. I draw in a breath and hold in the cry before I continue. “…that I—” But I barely get a word out before the cough follows. I’m losing this battle. But I need to tell him. I need him to know. 

Just… just let me get through this.

“Raph…”

“Save the lecture for after we get home.”

His voice is commanding. Stubborn. But I can hear that undercurrent of fear running through it. Same thing that’s clouding his eyes. I want to comfort, to take the fear away, but my lungs aren’t cooperating. They’re panicking at the sudden lack of oxygen.

Calm. Breathe. Inhale slow. Exhale slow. Inhale. Exhale. Find a rhythm.

My lungs finally relax, but my mind is still racing. I should try again. Tell him again. He needs to know.

 I need you. That’s what I’m trying to say. I need you.

Every time he runs off, half-cocked and fist first, I feel like I’ve lost my balance. Like a part of me is missing. And every time he gets hurt because of it, it feels like that part won’t come back. I’m always so terrified of losing him that I forget how good he is on his own. How well he adapts to being alone.

How little he really—

“I DON’T NEED YOU!”

He’s right. And thinking about it now, it makes me feel almost… proud. Why have I never thought of it this way before? Or maybe I did I just didn’t want to admit—

“Donnie!”

My eyes snap taught as I’m once again brought back to my senses. I search around for our younger brothers until I see the phone to Raph’s ear. At least they’re calling, means they’re still alive.

Raph shouts into the phone and I can see his hand shaking. Is that rage, worry, or fatigue? Or a mixture of all three? I try to catch his eyeline so I can ask how the others are, but one glance and he knows what I’m thinking.

“You guys alright?” He pauses and my gut is suddenly twisting in knots. “Mikey?”

Not Donnie? Did something happen to him? I try to hear the other end of the conversation but my senses are too dull to make anything out. Raph must have been thinking the same thing because he asks for me.

“Where’s Don?” 

He’s turned away so I can’t see his face, but his body doesn’t tense in any way, so I can only assume that means they’re alright. If they weren’t, Raph’s musculature would betray his worry, like it always does. His body tenses and flexes a lot when he’s worried. And angry. And—

“He’s what!? You…”

The voice on the phone gets lost in the rain, but I heard those first words loud and clear. They hadn’t told Mikey. Probably to keep him moving and not panicking. Smart move, Don. I suddenly wish I could take the cell and speak with my baby brother. I want to tell him it’s all going to be alright. That there’s no need to be afraid. That I’m okay, or will be once we get back home. If I make it back home…

I might not make it home.

I just want to hear his voice one more time.

Raph is facing me again, staring at my stomach. Or rather glaring at it. “No.” he says in reply to some question on the phone, I assume. “He’s still awake and talking, but his speech is gettin’ slow.”

Is it? I hadn’t noticed.

He must be talking to Don now, Mikey wouldn’t ask those kinds of questions. Or wouldn’t know what to do with the answers, anyway. He’d be more focused… more focused on…

Shell, I’m tired.

Don’t think about it. Don’t fixate on the fatigue. Keep the mind busy. 

I focus on Raph who is putting the phone on the ground. Did they hang up already? Is everyone alright? …Did I not ask that out loud? Try again. Breathe. Speak.

“They… Okay?”

But my voice is so small, I don’t think he hears me. His hand is on my neck—I think, I can’t feel it at all—checking for a pulse. Right. Probably should have been doing that this whole time. Wasn’t thinking.

“Weak and slow.” He pauses before I see his patience leave him. “Get here and see for yourself!” I blink slowly and somehow miss whatever else is said as he hangs up. “They’re alright. On their way now.”

I finally catch his eyes and see it plain as day on his face: he’s scared. For me. Worried for me. I know how stupid it sounds, but I can’t help feeling… treasured. He doesn’t want me to leave.

“I DON’T NEED YOU!”

I know he didn’t mean it. I barely heard it through my own dread when I noticed the sniper. Or maybe I was ignoring it purposefully because it hurt. But I know he didn’t mean it. I know my brother loves me. He never says it—that’s not his way—but he shows it often enough.

I hope I do too. I hope he knows how much I love him. Respect him. No matter what else we are to each other—leader, subordinate, rival—he’s my younger brother and I love him so much.

I’d be nothing without him. Without all three of them.

Mikey. Donnie. They’re not gonna make it. I’m fading too fast. I’m trying—I refuse to give up—but I don’t have a choice anymore. My body is failing me and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.

Memories of the three of them dance before me unprompted. I don’t stop it. I want to see them one last time. I want to see Mikey’s smile. I want to see Don’s “thinking” face. I want to tell them how much I’m going to miss them. How much they mean to me.

This is going to be so hard for them. All three of them. Mikey will cry. A lot. Don will too, but he’ll do it in silence. Secluded, so the others don’t see. And Raph… Raph will blame himself. He’ll think this is all his fault. No, he has to know it’s not. It was mine. I didn’t see the sniper in time.

He’ll lock himself away. We all know how he copes with pain. But he can’t do that this time. Mike and Don, they’ll need him to get through this. April and Casey can probably manage with each other, and Sensei can get through anything, but Mike and Don… they’ll need him.

I’m out of time. One last order from your older brother. One last desperate plea.

“Raph… Don’t—” Another cough interrupts me, more blood sliding through my lips. “Don’t… shut them out. They’ll need…” My voice trails off because it’s too much effort to keep talking. But I’m sure he understands. He’s got them. He’ll take care of everyone.

“I got them. If something ever happened… I got them.”

I trust him.

“What are you—?”

Our eyes meet and I try to offer as comforting a smile as I can. Everything is fading away. Like rippling water that dissipates in the distance. But it’s okay. Mikey and Donnie are safe. Raph will take care of them. They’ll be alright without me. I’m certain of it.

“Leo, don’t you dare!” He knows. He can see it too. “Keep your eyes open!”

“…Trying…” I really am. I don’t want to go. I don’t want one lapse in focus to be the reason I’m gone. I don’t want to put my family through this. 

I don’t want to die at all.

“Well try harder! Since when do you back away from a fight!?”

But at least I’m not alone. I know it’s selfish, Raph would be much better off if he didn’t have to watch me go, but I don’t want to be alone. I want him here. So I can tell him.

I try to speak but the sound doesn’t come. It’s too much effort. Too much breath. Try again. I close my eyes to gather my strength. One last movement. Just let me say one last thing.

“I said keep ‘em open, dam—”

I manage to place my numb hand on his over my stomach, and I can tell it’s still shaking.

It’s okay, brother. It’s okay. Everything will be alright. “Tell them…” All of them. Dad, April, Casey.

“Leo—!”

“…M’Sorry.” For failing you. For leaving. For all of it.

“I’m… so…proud”  Truly. They are everything I wish I was, everything I could never be.

I love them so much.

I try to say it. I try to form the words. But my breath has left my body and no more air is coming to replace it. The darkness at the edge of my vision closes in. A sudden panic rises in my chest and spikes through my entire being.

No! No, I don’t want to go! I don’t want to be alone! I don’t want to lose them! Please!

Please…

I feel warm. Tranquil. Like meditating with Sensei.

Let me…

The darkness is gone. So is the panic.

Stay…

My brothers. My family. I can feel them…

With…

Still with them. Still connected.

“S-Still here…”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Previous < - > Epilogue 2

I had fun writing it, anyways.

Comments/Critiques always welcome.

End of Line.

-TRAap

[undertheopensky]

Moorhaunt 2

Whumptober Day 9: "You're a liar."

Characters: Four, Legend

STRONG trigger warnings on this one for frank discussion of suicide, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation, and self-harm. Reading this ten years ago would have definitely been a bad idea for me, and it’s not a failing if it would be a bad idea for you. Skip it if you need to; no hard feelings.

Read on Ao3!

Missed the first instalment? Read here!

-----

The dead tree is the only structure for over a mile in every direction.

If he’s careful to keep his back turned, he can’t see the camp the others had retreated to, after Legend had screamed at them all to go away. Bad enough they’re not allowed any weapons, bad enough they’re under constant guard, but the constant sad eyes and hovering is just – too fucking much.

He just feels so awful.

Hyrule had explained, carefully, what a moorhaunt was and what it had done. That he and Four, who’d also been affected, would effectively be on suicide watch for the foreseeable future, but that they would be okay. That there was nothing physically wrong with him.

Legend calls bullshit.

He doesn’t hurt any more than usual. The standard lowkey pain hums in his bones, drags slow claws up his spine. Even the quiet ache of grief is familiar. It’s the sensations layered over the top that drive it to unbearable heights.

Laying flat in the grass, his skin feels too small; not pain, just pressure, constant and inescapable. His heart is caught in the wake of a sinking ship, cold and dark and crushing.

Nothing he does matters; has ever mattered. In a few hundred years Hyrule will fall into such disrepair that it’ll probably never recover, because three times wasn’t enough for Legend to find Ganon’s real weak point, something that will kill him instead of just making him fuck off for a few years, before returning to terrorise the next poor soul who gets handed a sword and a destiny and that’s Legend’s fault too.

Legend’s used to pain, both physical and emotional. This urge to rip his own skin off, lay open his throat, anything to alleviate the pressure – it’s visceral, like nothing he’s ever felt before. It’s not a whim, it’s a need – desperate to make it all stop.

He hates the feeling, just as much as he hates the fact that Hyrule had stripped him of everything that could be considered a weapon.

He hates even more the fact that Four was stuck in the same shitty situation, all because he’d jumped in to save Legend’s useless ass. And he shouldn’t feel resentful of that, fuck, but at least if Four wasn’t here he’d be alone, and able to sulk to his heart’s content about how bullshit this all was.

(He’s not angry at Four for saving his life. That’s the moorhaunt talking. He’s not.)

A small foot taps his shoulder. “You okay there, Ledge?”

Legend opens his eyes to scowl up at Four. “Oh, I’m just fucking peachy,” he growls. “I love being told I’m incompetent to hold a weapon and can’t be trusted with my own fucking gear, and have to be supervised like a three year old for who-fucking-knows how long!”

Four raises an unimpressed brow.

Then abruptly everything crashes around him.

It’s his fault Four is stuck out here, feeling just as shitty as Legend does. If he’d been more attentive, he wouldn’t have wound up at the back of the group. If he’d been more suspicious, more on guard, he never would have been drawn off the path, following a faint snatch of a melody and a feeling of warm-drifting-safe.

He’s a hero. He’s never safe. How could he have been so stupid?

The weight in the back of his throat turns strangling, and it’s only the fact that all his limbs feel like lead that stops him from grabbing at his own arms hard enough to bleed. He feels scooped out and hollow. All the guilt and hurt and fear is turned to the outside so everyone can see it and he can’t make it stop. He hurts, and he hates, and he wants it all to go away -

Legend grinds his teeth until the urgency fades. Until the irritation simmers down to a low, nagging itch, and the lump in his chest is just uncomfortable instead of overwhelming.

He still has to take a couple deep breaths before he’s sure he won’t snarl. “You can’t tell me you were enjoying the hovering any more than I was. I had to talk Hyrule out of taking my fucking bootlaces. Overkill much?”

“Ehhh.” Four jumps up onto the low branch jutting out from the tree, letting his feet dangle off it. “It’s a little annoying, being on active suicide watch, but like. It’s making them feel better, y’know?”

He’s so utterly unbothered. It’s fucking annoying, and Legend can’t entirely bite back the spite this time. “Not worried you’re going to off yourself the second our keepers turn their backs?” He regrets it the second it leaves his mouth.

Four just barks a laugh. “Ledge, I am the reigning champion of not killing myself. If I could manage it for two years with my support system torn to ribbons, I’m pretty sure I can handle it for a couple of weeks while the side effects of a magical attack wear off and I’ve got seven really annoying older brothers making me eat and sleep. Hell, it’s like an enforced vacation.”

For a second Legend gets stuck on ‘seven older brothers’ because Wind is definitely younger. Then he processes the rest of it, or tries to, because his brain keeps skipping over parts and circling back around to them.

Two years.

Reigning champion.

Support system.

Killing myself.

“Four, what are you - what do you mean, what are you talking about?”

Four smiles just like he always does, and for the first time, Legend sees right through it.

“You liar.”

“Yup,” says Four, utterly unmoved.

“I don’t – I don’t understand. You’re not – okay so you’re not Wind, or, or Sky, not cheerful all over the place, but you’ve never - I’ve never seen a hint of - of this, fuck, did I just not see it?” Legend feels like he can’t breathe. Just how shitty and self-absorbed is he that he missed this? He can feel the weight of the dark pool under his heart threaten to overwhelm but shoves it away - dismisses it. He doesn’t have time to feel sorry for himself, shit. Fuck. How does he fix this?

“You’re - how long?” he manages to ask. “What happened?”

Four hums thoughtfully, feet swinging. “After my first adventure, things were really hard. I went through… a lot, and to everyone else, it was no big deal. Everything was fine. Flinching at unexpected touch, screaming myself awake most nights – I was just a little kid being overdramatic.”

Without thinking, Legend asks, “How old were you?”

“Eight,” Four admits candidly.

And this is more than he’s ever gotten before, Legend realises distantly. It’s not that he’s unfriendly. Four’s just – private. Close-mouthed when it comes to himself and his past.

But if Four feels anything like he does right now – like a disturbed lakebed, all the silt and muck drawn to the surface and unable to be ignored – then maybe it’s not so surprising.

Guilt rocks him. Four would have every right to be furious with him, once this wears off and he’s back to his reserved self. “Sorry, Four, I didn’t mean to push –”

Four ‘hmms’ again. “Doesn’t really matter.”

And if that’s not a bolt of ice –

“Four, listen.” Legend spins to face him, hands on the branch on either side of Four’s hips. Quickly Four yanks his feet to a stop to avoid kicking Legend in a very sensitive place. Legend ignores it and continues, “I know things are hard for you back home, but there are people who love you there. Your grandfather, Dot – they love you. And we love you.”

Four colours. “Legend, it’s fine, it’s really not a big deal –”

“It matters,” Legend insists. “You matter. I shouldn’t have pushed your boundaries and that’s on me, but it matters. You’re allowed to feel upset about it or to tell me to fuck off. And remember that we love you, and we’ll always support you. You’re not alone.”

“I’m never alone,” Four says with a crooked smile.

“Definitely not,” Legend agrees. “And don’t you forget it.”

The simple ease with which Four had relented knocks Legend off balance. He’d swung his sword as hard as he could and the monster dissolved with no resistance. He’s - he’s glad Four isn’t stuck in a cycle of self-depreciation, he’s glad he doesn’t have to dismantle an entire worldview today, but it leaves him feeling - cheated, almost.

Like Four is lying to him again.

He can’t bring himself to go back to the stiff distance they’d had before, but at the same time he doesn’t want to - to make Four feel hemmed in. So instead he just twists to the side, leaning against the branch Four was sitting on, shoulder pressed up against his brother’s leg in silent support.

“Did you ever talk to anyone about it?” he asks, more quietly.

Rather than answer, Four looks out across the empty wasteland of Hyrule’s world. It’s safer than the forest, since they can see any monsters coming long before they have a chance to attack. Legend still hates knowing this is what his Hyrule will become.

Everything you’ve done will come to nothing.

His nails dig into his palms.

“Dad’s biggest failing,” Four says at last, “is that he doesn’t understand people who don’t think the same way he does. He can work with them - he’s not an asshole - but he doesn’t get it, and doesn’t try to.”

“If he’s said anything to you,” Legend says, suddenly angry.

“No.” Four shakes his head. “He’s a soldier, he’s seen war. He’s seen what battleshock can do. But he doesn’t understand just wanting it to end. To him, surviving means you won. Maybe there were bad things along the way, but you won. Wanting to take that away yourself is - incomprehensible to him.”

“You don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to.” Shit, is he doing it again? His bullshit doesn’t matter, Four matters.

“I’ll be honest, I’ve never been that close with my father.” Four slides off the branch to sit on the ground, arms curled loosely around his legs. Legend follows him down. “I never really wanted to be a knight, but I was the hero, and I was good at fighting monsters, so obviously that was what I was going to do. It wasn’t until after adventure number three that he finally accepted it wasn’t what I wanted, and he let me move back home with Grandpa. That was a – a huge relief.”

There’s sadness in the creases at his eyes.

“It didn’t fix anything. I still went through – terrible things, and they still hurt me, years later. But it’s easier to breathe, outside of the castle. All the ranks, the manners, the schedules and rules – I felt trapped, and that was the worst part. Because no matter what, I knew there was always a way out.” Unconsciously, Four’s hand drifts towards where his belt knife usually hung, making Legend break out in a cold sweat. But the smithy shakes himself, and pulls his hand away, and continues, “Grandpa – understands, somehow, in a way Dad doesn’t. I want to say that makes it easier, but it more just – doesn’t make it harder. I still have really bad days, where I can’t work in the forge because fire and sharp things and – yeah. Sometimes though, I have good days, where I don’t even think about the fact that I carry a knife, or that I can’t swim well and the river is real close. Sometimes I even have more good days than bad days.”

“But it’s been pretty constant, for you.” Legend’s heart hurts, sharp and grounding.

Four tips his head from side to side. “I don’t want to say yes, but. I guess it kinda has.”

And - honestly, that makes the lump in his chest ache with cold. Imagining Four dealing with this - the hopelessness, the horrible whispers of they’d be better off without you, why don’t you do something useful for once and just die - nearly alone? For years on end?

“How do you deal with it? The – the feelings.”

Four leans back on his hands, letting his feet stretch out in front of him. “For something like this? Knowing it’ll pass. This is just temporary, and tomorrow will be better. And if not tomorrow, then the next day. Thinking of the things you’d miss out on helps, too. I haven’t finished the mystery book that got left back at the forge, and I want to know how it ends. I want to see the plum tree we planted flowering next spring. I want to eat bread from Pita’s bakery and trade kinstones with the Minish.”

“That’s… all?” Goddess, that sounds bad - “I just mean - such small things? What about - your family? Wouldn’t Dot and your grandfather - they’d be devastated if you died, to say nothing of -” taking your own life.

Four wobbles his hand. “Sometimes that helps, sometimes it doesn’t. On bad days, it just makes you feel guilty, and that compounds the bad feelings. On the worst days, you don’t care, because you won’t have to deal with it if you’re dead, so why bother being upset?”

Legend flinches; Four grimaces in apology. “Sorry. I forget most people don’t deal with this all the time.”

“Sucks that you have to, though,” Legend manages, and feels briefly proud of himself for making Four smile.

“And that’s what Dad didn’t get. It sucks, but you have to.”

“You’d think he’d be more understanding of it, since he thought being a knight was something you ‘just had to do’. How did you convince him, in the end?”

“I don’t know, to tell you the truth. I’d told him so many times that I’d spent enough of my life fighting monsters and I didn’t want to do it anymore, and he never seemed to listen, but - I guess that time, it sank in.” Four frowns to himself. “Part of me understands where he’s coming from. It’s not that I don’t like fighting, exactly, but – sometimes I’m so tired, Ledge, y’know?”

“Yeah,” says Legend, through the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“I wouldn’t make a good knight anyway. Blindly following orders got burned out of me a long time ago.”

Legend gives him a sharp look that Four returns with a smirk.

“What about you? Things back home okay for you? You live with Ravio, right?”

“Only because he wandered back into my damn house –”

Legend lets him steer the conversation to less-fraught waters. It’s been a horrible afternoon from this side of things, and Four’s bared his heart and soul maybe not entirely willingly today. Legend can play up being a bit cranky if it makes Four’s eyes brighten like that.

Afternoon trails into early evening. They’re both drowsing, leaning into each other to preserve as much of the sun’s warmth as possible. Four’s head is on Legend’s shoulder.

Four doesn’t usually let people touch his hair or his head. Legend is very carefully not thinking about why that could be. He just runs his fingers through strands as fine as silk, and hopes Four is finding it as soothing as he is.

It’s quiet, and comfortable, and Legend can only pray he doesn’t ruin it.

“You know we love you, right?” he says softly. “All of us, no matter what. Even me, and I’m the one saying it out loud when I’m a grumpy cactus of a person.”

“But at the end of this adventure, you’ll all be gone,” Four says quietly.

Legend goes stiff.

“It doesn’t matter.” Legend doesn’t need to feel the tremble in his breath to know it’s a lie. “S’not the first time I’ve had to say goodbye.” He tucks his head further into Legend’s collar, signalling the end of that line of conversation. Not that it looks like he’ll be awake much longer. Legend cards his fingers through fine blonde again.

“It’s interesting, actually,” Four murmurs. “This isn’t even the worst I’ve ever felt. The way Hyrule was talking… yeah, the moorhaunt pulled up the most painful memories, the sharpest ones, but – not the worst ones. Makes me wonder what exactly it is they’re consuming, when they attack Hylians.” He sighs softly, uninvested in the answer. “You’re warm…”

Four drifts off, unaware of Legend’s heart breaking in new and horrible ways.