#and the person who sent me away first was a man -_-

[chxnsgirl]

창빈 ─── let me take care of you

♡ pairing ៸៸ gym trainer!changbin x afab!reader genre ៸៸ angst, fluff, smut ៸៸ cw ៸៸ vanilla , praise kink (if u really really squint), oral (f. rec) , shower sex , there's also a link hidden in the fic c; ♡ synopsis ៸៸ literally no plot just smut a/n ๑ here's a lil bini fic since someone requested this ! [ 3.2k words ] ♡ masterlist

smut below the cut - minors gtfo.

another day, another gym session.

except this wasn’t just any gym session—it was with changbin, your personal trainer, and quite possibly the most attractive man you’d ever met. you first crossed paths a few months ago when you decided it was time to pull yourself out of the post-breakup slump and hit the gym again. changbin had been scanning for potential clients when he noticed you, and from that moment, your fitness journey took an unexpected turn.

from the start, you found him absolutely captivating. his physique was the stuff of admiration—a flawlessly sculpted body that practically exuded strength and confidence. but it wasn’t just his physique; his face was just as alluring. full lips, a radiant smile that seemed to light up the room—it all worked together to make your heart skip a beat.

still, it was more than just his looks that drew you in. changbin’s kindness and patience stood out. he truly understood the challenges you faced, encouraging you every step of the way with unwavering support. and given your single status and lack of intimate company for months, he was the only person who had come to know your body as well as you did—albeit in a very different way.

but lately, things had begun to shift. each training session seemed to carry a weight that went beyond fitness. the tension between you had been growing steadily, layer by layer. subtle touches lingered a second too long. his warm, tender smiles felt more personal. and the compliments—sweet, sincere, and unexpectedly intimate—hung in the air like a charged whisper, leaving you wondering where this might lead.

you had just wrapped up a grueling workout and were now easing into your stretches with changbin by your side. today’s session had been particularly intense, focusing heavily on lifting, and you’d pushed yourself harder than ever. the ache in your muscles was proof of your effort, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. clearly, changbin was proud of you too.

“you did great today,” he praised, his voice warm and encouraging.

he knelt beside you, helping guide your leg toward your abdomen as you stretched. his touch was firm but careful, his movements precise, yet you could sense the restraint in him. his eyes flicked to your form briefly, but he quickly refocused, clearly trying to remain professional. it wasn’t easy, though, considering the snug spandex leggings that clung to every curve of your lower half and the sports bra that, while functional, accentuated your breasts, which were pressed against the fabric with every deep inhale you took.

“thanks,” you replied breathlessly, switching to your other leg. changbin shifted to adjust his position, his pelvis hovering just above your ass as you lay flat on the mat. the closeness of his body, combined with the strength in his arms as he pressed your leg toward your torso, sent a wave of heat surging through you.

it settled deep in your core, and you fought to push the feeling away. determined not to let your thoughts spiral, you turned your head and focused your gaze anywhere but on him, desperately trying to ignore the way his touch and attention was making you feel.

as changbin adjusted his position, his touch lingered just a little longer than necessary. his hands were warm and strong, holding your leg securely as he leaned in to guide your stretch. you could feel the tension in the air thickening, subtle but undeniable. the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the musk of your workout, making your senses hyperaware of his proximity.

“relax into it,” changbin murmured, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. his breath brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine despite the heat coursing through you.

you exhaled slowly, trying to follow his instruction, but the pressure of his hands and the way his body was aligned with yours made it difficult to focus. as your muscles stretched and lengthened under his guidance, your thoughts began to wander to places they shouldn’t.

his hands moved slightly, adjusting the angle of your leg. the contact was innocent enough, yet it sent a spark straight to your core. his thumbs pressed gently into your thigh, massaging the tension there, and you couldn’t suppress the faint hum that escaped your lips.

“you okay?” he asked, his tone low and careful, though there was a hint of something else in it—a slight rasp that betrayed his own composure.

“y-yeah,” you managed to reply, your voice unsteady.

but changbin didn’t move away. instead, his gaze flickered down to you, his dark eyes studying your face. “you’re holding tension here,” he said, his hands sliding down slightly to work at the tight muscles in your hips. the motion was slow, deliberate, and his fingers pressed firmly yet gently, igniting a slow burn deep within you.

your breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him. his face was so close now, his lips parted slightly as though he was about to say something more. but no words came. instead, the moment seemed to stretch endlessly between you, the space between your bodies almost nonexistent.

you could feel the heat radiating from him, the firmness of his hands, the way his body hovered just above yours. and then, as though caught in some invisible pull, your eyes locked. the air crackled with unspoken desire, and suddenly, all the restraint from earlier seemed to crumble.

changbin’s hands stilled against your body, and you felt his grip tighten slightly, as if grounding himself. his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, and he glanced away for a moment, exhaling deeply. “i-i don’t… we shouldn’t…” he began, his voice low and uneven, though it lacked conviction.

you reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm. “it’s okay,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady. you leaned up slightly, your body arching toward him, driven by a pull you could no longer resist. “i don’t mind, if you don’t.”

and in an instant, you two were in the back of the gym, messily making out inside the employee showers. you had the curtain covering you both as you kissed each other, as well as the water running so nobody could hear the sinful noises of you two claiming each other.

the water was cascading down both of your bodies, getting your workout attire drenched. changbin let out a moan as he pressed you against the tile wall, grinding his length against your thigh.

you eagerly tugged his shirt off, wanting to see more of him.

in the haze of passion, your hands trembled slightly as you pulled changbin’s drenched shirt over his head, tossing it onto the wet floor without a second thought. the sight of his bare torso under the dim, steamy light took your breath away—every muscle, every defined line glistening under the cascade of water.

your hands roamed his chest, fingers tracing his abdomen before sliding up to his broad shoulders. his skin was warm beneath your touch, and he shuddered as your nails lightly grazed him.

“god, you’re so beautiful,” you murmured, your voice breathy and full of awe.

changbin’s lips found yours again, this time more urgent, more fervent. his hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling your soaked body flush against his. you gasped into his mouth as the rough texture of the tile wall contrasted with the heat of his touch. his hips pressed into you, and the friction sent waves of pleasure coursing through your core.

he broke the kiss momentarily, his forehead resting against yours as his hands slid up, fingers brushing over the fabric of your sports bra. “are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice husky but tinged with care.

you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “i’ve never been more sure,” you whispered, pulling him back into a searing kiss.

his hands moved with purpose, tugging at the hem of your sports bra. you raised your arms, helping him remove it, and the cool air of the shower hit your exposed skin before the warmth of his hands replaced it. his palms cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened peaks, drawing a gasp from your lips.

the steam swirled around you both, cloaking the scene in a veil of intimacy as changbin’s lips left a trail of kisses down your neck and collarbone. the sound of water hitting the tiles mingled with your quiet moans and his deep groans, creating a symphony of passion that seemed to echo in the small space.

your fingers fumbled with the waistband of his shorts, eager to feel more of him. he let out a shaky breath as you pushed them down, your touch exploring the contours of his hips and thighs. you could see the outline of his thick, hard cock through his briefs, and your core ached so intensely you could feel a heartbeat between your legs.

the tension that had built between you for weeks was now unraveling, every kiss, every touch, bringing you closer to a point of no return.

changbin’s hands slid down to your hips, gripping them firmly as he pressed against you. his breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this.”

you smiled against his lips, your fingers threading through his damp hair. “then show me,” you whispered, and with that, he captured your mouth again, his fingers curling under your leggings and yanking them down as well as your panties without hesitation.

you blushed, feeling bare and exposed in front of him. it had been a long time since you had been bare before a man, and changbin could sense your anxiety. “you look fucking gorgeous,” he growled, yanking them off your legs fully before kneeling in front of you and lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. you responded with a tiny gasp, realizing what he was preparing to do. changbin's dark eyes locked with yours as he knelt before you, the water cascading over his sculpted frame. his hands slid up your thighs, strong yet gentle, as if reassuring you of how much he wanted this—wanted you. the heat of his breath contrasted with the cool tile against your back, and the intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine.

“you don’t have to be nervous,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing but laced with hunger. “let me take care of you.”

before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. the sensation was electric, a mix of tenderness and desire that left you trembling. his lips moved slowly, trailing upward, each kiss stoking the fire coursing through your body.

when his mouth finally reached your core, your breath hitched. his tongue was warm and deliberate, exploring you with a confidence that left no doubt he knew exactly how to drive you wild. your hand flew to his hair, gripping the wet strands as your head fell back against the wall, a soft moan escaping your lips.

he moaned against your cunt, his tongue swirling and flicking over your sensitive flesh with relentless determination. the wet sounds of his mouth on your skin were just barely audible, driving you to new heights of pleasure. he savored every inch of you, the scent and taste that he had craved for so long.

a sharp cry escaped your lips as he wrapped his lips around your clit, suckling and lapping at it with fervent desire. his face was buried between your thighs, his breath hot against your skin as he devoured you without restraint. your body arched and quivered under his skilled touch, each wave of pleasure building higher and higher until it consumed you completely.

“bin…” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the running water.

he growled in response, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you. his grip on your leg tightened as he pulled you closer, his mouth working you with an intensity that made your toes curl. the sensations were overwhelming, the combination of his touch, the warmth of the water, and the way his tongue moved against you unraveling you completely.

your free hand pressed against the tile, trying to steady yourself, but it was no use. the tension building in your core was too much, too fast. “oh my god,” you gasped, your voice breaking as his name tumbled from your lips like a prayer.

changbin glanced up at you briefly, his eyes smoldering with desire as he watched you come undone above him. his lips curved into a small, cocky smile before he doubled down, his tongue and lips moving with a precision that left you breathless.

your body arched involuntarily, the sensations overwhelming as the pleasure built to a crescendo. your grip on his hair tightened, and with one final, broken cry of his name, the tension snapped, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. your legs trembled, and the one leg you were using to keep yourself standing in the shower was barely holding you upright.

as you came down from the high, your chest heaved, and your legs trembled. changbin stood slowly, his hands steadying you as he cupped your face and kissed you deeply, letting you taste the passion you’d just shared.

“you taste so fucking good,” he whispered against your lips, his voice rough and breathless, as if he’d been just as affected by the moment as you were. you two made out again, lost in the shared taste of each other, until you broke it. “fuck me,” you panted, your voice soft and breathy.

“please, fuck me.”

changbin’s breath hitched at your words, his hands gripping your hips tighter as if grounding himself. he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes burning with desire yet softened by a hint of hesitation. “you want it?” he murmured, his voice low and rough, barely audible over the water.

you nodded, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “please, changbin.”

something in him shifted, the tension and restraint he’d been holding onto dissolving. his lips captured yours again, this time with a hunger that left no room for doubt. his kiss was fervent, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands roamed your body, every touch igniting a new wave of heat.

with a slow, deliberate motion, he freed his thick, pulsating cock from its confines. it was girthy and heavy, throbbing with an almost painful urgency that sent shivers down your spine. just looking at it made you nervous for what was to come, but also filled you with a primal desire you couldn't deny. the veins along its length were prominent and promising. you could feel the heat radiating off of it, making your own body flush with anticipation.

with a fluid motion, he lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the tiled wall. the water cascaded over both of you, amplifying the intensity of every sensation. you could feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your core, and the anticipation made you gasp.

his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a heated path of kisses as his hands gripped your thighs to steady you. “you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice dripping with reverence and need.

“bin…” you whispered, your fingers threading through his wet hair, tugging lightly as your hips rolled against him, seeking more.

he groaned at the friction of his cock grinding between your slick lips, the sound deep and guttural, as he adjusted his position.

one hand slipped between you, and you shivered as his fingers teased your entrance, his touch deliberate and confident. “i need to feel you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

“then do it,” you urged, your voice trembling with need. “i’m yours.”

his gaze locked with yours for a fleeting moment, the intensity in his eyes sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. slowly, he entered you, the stretch and fullness drawing a gasp from your lips as your nails dug into his shoulders.

his thick length filled every inch of you as he pushed deeper and deeper. the weight of him pressed against your skin, the sensation almost overwhelming but also intoxicating. his fat cock stretched you to your limits, each movement sending electrifying sensations coursing through your body. you could feel every ridge and vein as he plunged into you, claiming you completely.

“fuck,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against yours as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust.“you feel incredible.” he moaned breathlessly, his brows knitted together as he fought the urge to cum right away.

“so do you,” you breathed, pressing a kiss to his lips before rolling your hips against him. the movement sent a shiver through him, and he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, building in intensity.

lost in the moment and completely overtaken by his desire, changbin's grip on your hips tightened as he began to lift you effortlessly, moving your body up and down on his cock with a strength that made you feel weightless. his motions were powerful and unrelenting, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body as if he was claiming every inch of you.

the sounds echoing in the steamy shower were shamelessly erotic—your bodies colliding with wet, rhythmic slaps, punctuated by the increasingly loud moans spilling from your lips. it was such a stark contrast to the tentative quiet you’d both maintained when you first slipped into the shower, and yet now, the tension between you had unraveled into something raw and untamed.

you couldn’t help but glance down at him, the sight alone making your head spin. the way his strong arms supported you, his muscles flexing with each movement, and the determined, almost primal look on his face as he drove into you—it was intoxicating. the intensity of it all made your walls flutter around him involuntarily, earning a deep groan from his lips that only fueled your desire further.

your back arched against the tiles, the sensation overwhelming as waves of pleasure coursed through you.

your body tensed as his cock repeatedly hit your g-spot with relentless force, causing a deep pit to form in your stomach and your clit to pulse uncontrollably. the pleasure was overwhelming, almost bordering on pain, but you couldn’t help but crave more of his intense thrusts. after a few more thrusts, you were trembling, your core fluttering with impending release.

“changbin… i’m so close,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the tension in your body built to its peak.

“me too,” he rasped, his lips brushing against yours as his movements grew faster, more erratic.

with one final thrust, the tension snapped, and you cried out his name as the pleasure consumed you, your body trembling in his arms. he followed moments later, his groan vibrating against your neck as he held you tightly, riding the waves of ecstasy together.

the water continued to cascade over you both as you clung to each other, your breaths mingling in the steamy air. changbin pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his voice warm and tender as he whispered, “i’ve waited so long for this,”

you smiled, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw as you replied, “so have i.” and as the water continued to fall around you, you knew this was for sure the start of something between you two.

tags: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Happy Family

🇺🇸Pairing(s)🇺🇸→Chris Evans x Single Dad reader ⚠️CW⚠️→no warnings, just fluff. The kid is adopted by the way. 🇺🇸Rating🇺🇸→ Fluff 🇺🇸Requested🇺🇸→ Yes

🇺🇸Word Count🇺🇸→ 1.1k

🇺🇸Summary🇺🇸→ You and Chris have been dating for a year, but you were scared of how Chris would react to you having a child. Long story short, you two are now married.

C/N: Child name

Couldn't find a good GIF of him now so here's a pic.

Today was the day, it should’ve been a wondrous feeling, but you only felt dread. Anxiety rushed through your veins as the time to introduce your boyfriend, Chris Evans, to your adopted son/daughter drew near. You hoped he wouldn’t leave you like the others before him. 

You can remember the day you first met him. 

It's been two months since you broke up with your ex-boyfriend after finding out he cheated. You thought he was the one after he loved meeting your son/daughter and he was just an amazing person overall. He proved you wrong in a matter of a few minutes.

The cafe was modestly quiet, with people coming in and ordering their drinks and an assortment of sweets. You were moping at one of the tables in the corner, drinking a cup of coffee. You still weren’t over your ex and cried softly so as not to draw attention to yourself. 

Then he came into your view. 

You were sniffling softly with your head buried in your arms until you heard a chair screeching across from you. Someone was sitting across the table. “You okay? I couldn’t help but notice you crying.” A deep voice said, looking up to see who it was, you were smacked across the face by how handsome the man was. 

He had an oval face with a wide forehead, well balanced with the glasses complimenting his features. A notable facial feature would be the man’s facial hair. It looked bushy but well-maintained with hints of grey hairs along the brown. He had slicked-back hair that went back to the top of his nape. 

You then realize you’ve been staring for too long. “Y-yeah… I’m okay, just going through things,” you replied while looking away until the flustered feeling went away. You then hear him let out a deep chuckle, only causing you to blush in return. A hot man decides to come and speak when you’re not looking your best… you just wanted to die.

“You don’t look good, it's usually good to talk to others when something is wrong. My name is Chris, Chris Evans, by the way.” Now you know the name of this stranger, Chris Evans, and it fits perfectly with him. You were hesitant about talking to Chris, but he looked trustworthy so you began talking with him.

Chris listened to everything– besides you having a kid– and gave his opinions. It all boiled down to, “It wasn’t your fault and you shouldn’t feel like you did anything wrong.” and other things. Those words coming from him made you smile.

From that day forward, you two always met at the cafe until Chris gave you his number. You then started hanging out and doing various things together, and that’s how you started developing feelings. You refrained from telling Chris these feelings, not wanting to ruin the friendship dynamic, and you doubted a man like Chris was gay or bisexual.

“I was wondering if you would like to go out with me, like an actual date.” 

That sent earthquakes rumbling through your world. Your heart fluttered with happiness and you agreed to the date. After you both went on dates, your son/daughter could notice your old self returning. They began asking questions and poking for answers, maybe since they were a child and could see everything.

After numerous dates, Chris made it official, asking you to be his boyfriend. You got excited and jumped into Chris’s arms. You smile when you feel Chris’s large arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer into his embrace. 

That leads to the situation now.

You weren’t sure how Evans would react, but he always talked about wanting kids—even if they were adopted since you both are men. Chris was passionate but said, “Only if you’re ready.” It's now or never, either way, Evans was going to find out one way or another.

Evans was asked to come to your house to talk about something important. He felt his heart drop, thinking that you wanted to break up with him but he pushed those thoughts aside. When he arrived at your place; he was met with you sitting on the couch with a young child on the side, kicking their legs before looking up and smiling.

“Are you my dad’s boyfriend? You won’t leave?” the kid said as they ran up, circling him as they inspected him. Chris felt his smile falter at the end of what the kid said. He remembers you telling him what happened with your last relationship. He wasn’t going to be like your ex.

You began explaining everything to Chris, saying how they’re adopted, likes and dislikes, and other things. “This is c/n. They’re my adopted son/daughter.” Chris smiled, his heart swelling as he gave his hand out and introduced himself. 

Chris was an amazing father. He showed your child the love they needed, took them places, and gave them the things they wanted when you couldn’t provide. He also reprimanded them when they acted bad or did something. Overall, he was an amazing parent.

You have so many memories now, seeing Chris carrying C/n on his shoulders, pictures of them at amusement parks, beaches, aquariums, etc. Now, it seems like you have the family you always wanted, but you’re not husbands… yet.

“Will you marry me?” Chris said as he got on one knee and pulled out a ring. C/n was throwing rose petals as Chris was giving his proposal speech. Tears start welding in your eyes.  Chris looked handsome like this, wearing a suit, every part of him groomed.

“Yes, I will.” You said as tears rolled down your face while Chris put the ring on your finger. You examine it before hugging Evans, his large hands stroking your back.

“I have two dads now!”

XX(Timeskip 3 years)XX

Every part of your body was hurting. Your damn boss was working you to the bone, which you’ll probably complain about in your resignation letter. When you opened the door, you were met with the sight of Chris sleeping on the couch. 

Next to him was c/n sleeping as well. They must have been watching a Disney movie before falling asleep. You smiled, putting your stuff down, walking to the two, and kissing them on the forehead.

“I love you both.”

THE END

A/n: hello, my strawberries! Round two of fics beginning this year! At this rate, I’ll maybe be done in June or July. Very special thanks to @sagethegaywitch

TAGLIST: @spnfanboy777 @meyocoko @buckyshusband0 @mack-thedork @sluttyhusband @wolf-knights @zamfam4272 @ghostking4m @maxxioislost @furiousflowercreation

[alchemicaladarna]

I am one of the newer ghosties and I only started watching Bad around September/October 2023 because that's when his lore on the QSMP really ramped up, and I admit that I would've been more Bolas aligned if I didn't need one moment of peace and quiet during the first day of Purgatory lmao, but as I continued to watch more of Bad's streams the past year or so, I find that I appreciate and respect him the more I learn about him and continue to watch his content.

And yes, sometimes, the ghosties do need to chill, but I'm not on twitter and I can't speak for everyone, but the BBH community here on tumblr are genuinely some of the nicest people I have interacted with on posts, or even had the pleasure of becoming mutuals with.

I wasn't really around during the DSMP days, nor the in-between period between that server and the QSMP so it was like observing clips of the CC's and their interactions with each other from outside the enclosure, which is why I never knew the extent of just how horribly Bad was treated, and is still being treated. I always thought it was just mild jokes about swearing or skephalo, which to some extent, some of them, especially the ones from a few years back, are uncomfortable too now that I think about it. The animal abuse stuff that Dteam would play as "quips" against Bad is downright cruel and sickening, and my heart broke when I read that today, especially knowing what Lucy is going through right now.

Bad's association with Dteam had me on the fence for a bit when I first started watching his streams, because I was conflicted with the idea that a person who seemed so genuinely kindhearted can be friends/tolerate people like Dream. I mostly ignored it because ever since the QSMP he hasn't associated with them as much, but I always had the thought in the back of my mind. A friend told me they knew each other for a long time, but that doesn't justify their cruelty and abuse towards Bad at all. And maybe, they think whatever they say or do has no consequence and they can keep using Bad as a punching bag because most of the time he doesn't say anything to defend himself to avoid drama, but that's just even more heartbreaking to me.

Maybe I'm looking at this with tinted glasses and a bias since I have watched Bad's content for hours every day during the past year and a half, but it genuinely makes me angry sometimes that people shit on him so much when Bad himself genuinely has a good heart from what I've seen so far. I have half the patience and none of the tolerance this man has for the shit he has put up with and has been putting up with, and I respect him all the more for it. I know Bad wouldn't and shouldn't have to make a big "fuck you" post to Dream, even though I think he's one of the people that deserves to, but I'm just glad that he's been steadily moving away from those losers, especially with the comments he made last night and blocking the donos that green fucker sent.

This post and everything that everyone has added in the tags is a breath of fresh air and catharsis so thank you for allowing us this space to express our thoughts <33

And I'm sending lots of love and gratitude to BBH, Lucy, and the ghosties 🩵🩵🩵

I wouldn't call myself a Ghostie exactly but I've been around since 2020 and I think we need to talk in detail about how Bad has been legitimately used and abused by the Dr*m Team. Especially now that he's making more noticeable moves to get the hell away from them.

Given I'm just on the outskirts of his community, my only starting points are their weird obsession with constantly threatening and joking about harming his dog (like during Jackboxes back in the day), and giving him 0 credit or acknowledgement for hosting the DSMP server.

But there is so so so so so so much more and I want this post to be a sounding board for the hardcore Ghosties who are sick of watching their guy get treated like shit constantly.

Go ahead and use this post to air them out, guys.

[marq-lynch]

#Strickpage Strikeout is Here!

Please don't hesitate to reach out to me by DM on Tumblr, Discord, or Bsky if you have questions, but really the point of this is just to have fun and create as a fandom! Don't put too much pressure on it.

Expanded Cards with Links to TV Tropes Pages Below Read More.

Card #1 - Wrestledream - (Softer/New Relationship)

Love is a Weakness - Love is regarded as a negative influence.

Cupid's Arrow - Falling in love personified by the love god, Cupid.

Rivalry as Courtship - A romance that stems from two characters' rivalry.

I Didn't Mean to Turn You On - Unintentionally making someone fall in love with you.

Laugh of Love - The tendency to laugh when in the presence of your love interest.

Unresolved Sexual Tension - Two characters are obviously attracted to each other, but they never act on their feelings.

Inconvenient Attraction - A character falls in love when they'd rather not.

No Challenge = No Satisfaction - I'm only happy when there's a challenge!

How Dad Met Mom - Come around, kids, this is the story of how your father and I fell in love.

Puppy Love - Romance between pre-pubescent children. [Note: This is on the list because of Swerve's famous playlist choice to include 'Awaken, My Love' for the Deathmatch, which includes the line 'So This isn't just Puppy Love'. Like all prompts on these cards, interpret as you see fit.]

Love at First Punch - Falling in love with somebody who beat you up.

Forgotten First Meeting - Forgetting that you first met your love interest long ago.

Best Her to Bed Her - A man must defeat a strong woman in combat if he wishes to romance her.

Crazy in the Head, Crazy in the Bed - A character is eccentric or outright insane, which makes them more appealing in the romantic and sexual sense.

Card #2 - Full Gear - (Violently Horny Vampire Vibes)

Stalker with a Crush - A character who follows the person they're in love with everywhere.

Stalker without a Crush - Whose obsession is unrelated to romantic or sexual feelings.

Too Much Alike - When applied to romantic relationships (or, less commonly, friendships). Two people break apart because they're too similar to each other; their shared traits clash and/or they have the same traits they don't like in themselves.

It's Personal - It sure is. You hurt someone dear to me. Now I'm gonna fucking kill you!

In Love with Your Carnage - A villainous or morally ambiguous character falls for someone because of their violent tendencies.

Breaking and Bloodsucking - Vampires break into bedrooms to attack women.

Hemo Erotic - A fetish for biting and drinking blood.

Must Be Invited - A supernatural creature cannot enter a dwelling without permission from the homeowners.

Yandere - They're so in love with somebody that they'll murder anybody who stands in their way.

Yandere Couple - Two people driven murderous with love end up together.

Combat Sadomasochist - Someone who enjoys both inflicting harm on (and also receiving harm from) other people.

I Hate You, Vampire Dad - Hating someone who turned you into a monster.

It's Not You, It's My Enemies - Being with your lover puts them in harm's way.

Consuming Passion - Cannibalism with sexy undertones.

Red String of Fate - Two characters are bound by fate to be together.

Arch-Enemy - The main villain of the story is usually (though not necessarily always) the primary nemesis of the main hero.

Interplay of Sex and Violence - Violence and sex happening around the same time as each other, or even using violence as foreplay.

Card #3 - Revolution Through All In - (Angst Vibes)

Came Back with a Vengeance - You ruined my life and sent me away to rot in exile, but I'm back with new skills, a new identity, and a meticulous plan to destroy everything you love.

The Mistress - A woman whom a married man cheats on his wife with.

I Gave My Word - May indicate Honor Before Reason.

Wanting Is Better Than Having - Once you've gotten all that you've wanted, life becomes boring and unrewarding.

Career Versus Man - A woman must give up her career if she gets married.

Awful Wedded Life - An unhappy and dreary marriage.

Reformed, but Rejected - A villain seeking redemption finds that no one trusts them.

Daddy Had a Good Reason for Abandoning You - A parent gives an excuse for why they left their child.

Descent into Addiction - A character's story arc involves them becoming dependent on a substance.

Am I Just a Toy to You? - A character confronts the other about how serious they think their relationship is.

Motive Decay - A villain gradually discards the reasons why they became evil in the first place, either losing their sympathy if they keep at it or give up their villainy after no longer caring about their Freudian Excuse

The Perils of Being the Best - Being The Ace has many prices to pay.

Success As Revenge - The best way to repay you for what you've done to me is by living a good life while you end up being miserable.

Accomplice by Inaction - You did nothing to save me from injustice even though you could. Therefore, I'm gonna end you!

Off the Wagon - A recovering alcoholic starts drinking again.

Card #4 - All Out - (Burning Romance)

Rationalizing the Overkill - My revenge ended up going too far/causing collateral damage, but it was well worth it!

Devoted to You - A character who inspires obsessive devotion in those around them.

Victory Is Boring - A character succeeds, but doesn't know what to do afterwards.

Destructive Romance - A deeply unhappy and dysfunctional romantic relationship (sometimes to the point of being abusive).

Fate Drives Us Together - If two people keep encountering each other, it means they're meant to be together.

Ignored Epiphany - A villain considers redeeming themselves, then decides not to.

Loving a Shadow - Falling in love with the ideal of someone rather than the actual person.

Vengeance Feels Empty - I've successfully gotten my revenge... now I have no idea what to do.

Fully-Embraced Fiend - Someone turned into a vampire decides to embrace their transformation rather than fight it.

Grand Romantic Gesture - A big, elaborate event done for someone to show your love for them.

Conducting the Carnage - So what if the world is ending? I'm just going to stand here and move my hands like a conductor. Whatever.

He Who Fights Monsters - Because of my goal for revenge, I've become just like the bastard who harassed me. Good.

Fanatical Fire - YOU SHALL BURN!!!!

Flames of Love - Fire represents the passion in a relationship.

Burn Baby Burn - Destroying something with fire for a dramatic disposal.

[zqnl]

Compiled some thoughts/observation/analysis of Vol I, Book 1!

Les Misérables Vol I, Book 1: A Good Man

Victor Hugo starts everything off with essentially the life and times of Bishop Myriel. Even though he says it has little relevance to do with the rest of the tale, the book not only touches on some major themes (and personal points of conflict for Hugo) but also has some foreshadowing that I already know will make some future scenes hit so much harder.

Less importantly, but more entertainingly, Myriel throws so much shade and gives so many backhanded compliments for a short, happy, elderly guy. Sometimes he's subtle about it and it flies over the head of the person he's talking to, but other times he just goes out of his way to make his disapproval known in very comical ways. Nothing I saw before reading the brick prepared me for this guy having personality, but I'm so happy it's there.

Notes on themes & foreshadowing/parallels under the cut! Would love to read about alternate opinions/things I didn't catch, especially as a first-time reader 👀👀

Themes

When is a violent revolution justified?

Down with the death penalty

What makes a person good?

Nobody's perfect, or why Myriel is a staunch royalist

Hedonism as a privelege for the rich

The importance of education

When is a violent revolution justified?

Myriel seems to have a very micro approach to goodness — he uses most of his own funds for the benefit of those in need and chides the bishops who hoard individual wealth, but repeatedly shies away from political change. It’s both pacifist and very cure-over-prevention, which is what makes his clash with the Conventionist G so interesting.

Their conversation really felt like Hugo’s own internal dialogue, attempting to address the conflict between the progress won through revolutions and the violence wielded to get there. Despite some back and forth, there was a clear ‘victor’ in the debate. G states “I voted for the end of the tyrant. That’s to say, the end of prostitution for women, the end of slavery for men, the end of benightedness for children. In voting for the Republic, that’s what I voted for.” Since this is extremely reminiscent of the preface, it’s clear that this is the voice Hugo endorses. He also appears to give his own definition for when violence is forgivable when G concludes his speech with “Yes, the brutalities of progress are called revolutions. When they are over, what we recognize is this: the human race has had a rough time, but it has advanced.” It’s therefore quite intriguing that he chose to centre Les Misérables around the 1832 rebellion that didn’t succeed. Maybe future chapters will reveal a tighter definition for progress that will include the aftershocks (if any) of the June Rebellion?

Despite ending on a pretty unambiguous statement of philosophy, some of Hugo’s misgivings (previously published in his public announcements regarding past revolutions) are also voiced in this passage, like when Myriel says “You’ve brought about destruction. Destruction can be useful but I distrust destruction compounded with anger.” G responds by listing what that first revolution gifted France (though “sent tides of civilisation sweeping across the earth” could be referring to Napoleon’s conquests which is somewhat unbalancing), but I think the true rebuttal is when he responds with a crime against the people for every crime against the monarchy. This is particularly enjoyable because it mirrors Myriel’s own attitude in rejecting artificial divides between normal people and ‘higher powers’ back from when he wittily rebuked Napoleon.

Down with the death penalty

A vivid part of France’s violent revolutions is of course the use of the guillotine (or more broadly, the death penalty). Hugo uses some pretty unambiguous language to describe and personify the guillotine, leaving us very clear on his personal stance towards the death penalty; namely, that he’s extremely against it. Myriel himself says “I didn’t realize it was so monstrous. It’s wrong to be so deeply absorbed in divine law that you become unaware of human law. Death depends on God alone. By what right do men meddle with this matter of destiny?” Again, lines from the preface incorporated into the text, highlighting how this section is not in fact without bearing on the rest of the story, at least thematically.

However, Myriel’s actions after this revelation are quite interesting. While his exclamation appears to denounce the use of religion as a band-aid or distraction from material, man-made horrors, Myriel henceforth avoids the guillotine and continues to avoid interactions with changing the law. Later, he even says “Whatever his fellow man does, God allows it.” This is in-line with his character, which so far seems to primarily advocate for mercy and mundane acts of kindness, and avoids questioning the religion he serves. He even writes (of god) “Solomon names you Mercy, and of all your names this is the most beautiful.” in one of his books.

This also comes up in his conversation with G, except here it seems Hugo’s stance on the death penalty isn’t part of the debate. Instead, G is a Conventionist who voted against killing Louis XVI. Personally, I get the feeling that Hugo is drawing a line here. It seems like had G voted for Louis XVI’s death, Hugo would have found him unfit as a mouthpiece for his ideology.

What makes a person good?

Certainly not success, or a good social standing. The section where Hugo says “success is a fairly hideous thing. Its false resemblance to merit deceives men.” feels like one side of the coin to one of Les Misérables’ main tenets, with the flipside being that poverty does not imply weakness of character. I have it on pretty good authority that Les Misérables is very much about the goodness of the ordinary or lower class individual as opposed to the greatness of powerful figures, which was clear from Myriel’s very first snipe at Napoleon.

Hugo also describes Myriel as “Infantile if you will, but these sublime infantilisms were those of St Francis of Assisi and Marcus Aurelius.” I have a vague impression of childlike innocence being present in Cosette and to some extent Fantine (given her name). Hugo might not point to it as the primary or sole example of goodness, but he definitely props it up as one of the examples.

Nobody’s perfect, or why Myriel is a staunch royalist

It’s quite paradoxical for Myriel to believe that as a bishop — advisor to the people — he should live close to poverty, but simultaneously be a royalist and therefore implicitly accept that the king — leader of the people — can live in never-before witnessed splendour starting from the reign of Louis XIV.

This character flaw is again emphasised in the passing of Conventionist G, where Myriel (without much given reason) looks at a man peacefully accepting his death and thinks “He did not think there was any sense of God in this manner of dying.”. This is especially jarring since he’d said “Let us fear ourselves. Prejudices are the real robbers.” a couple pages prior.

I guess no character can have it all?

Hedonism as a privilege of the rich

I don’t think I need to make too many notes here — his speech at the end of 1.1.8 speaks for itself. As an excerpt:

You fine gentlemen, as you say, have a philosophy of your own, for yourselves. An exquisite, refined philosophy available only to the rich

But you are kindly princes and you don’t mind that belief in God should be the philosophy of the people, rather in the same way that goose stuffed with chestnuts is the truffled turkey of the poor.

The importance of education

I imagine this will be touched on more later, but for now we have the quote:

Society is to blame for not giving free education. It’s responsible for the darkness it produces. In any benighted soul – that’s where sin will be committed. It’s not he who commits the sin that’s to blame but he who causes the darkness to prevail.’

This is obviously still relevant to us now, but unsurprisingly, the issue of education was even more important in the 19th century. Literacy rates are still quite low, and new scientific/philosophical/political theories were often spread via the written word. You can't convince the illiterate with writing! If the people who are most marginalised are the ones least able to engage with ideologies made to help them, the vehicle that might enable them to connect with new ideas is naturally extremely important.

Foreshadowing/parallels

Myriel’s silver

I think the following quotes speak for themselves, and add so much significance to Myriel’s later actions:

It must be acknowledged, though, that of his former possessions he was still left with six silver forks and spoons and a large soup ladle that for Madame Magloire were a daily joy to see gleaming splendidly on the white linen tablecloth.

… he had more than once been heard to say, “It would be hard to give up eating off silver.”

In the bishop’s own bedroom… was a small cupboard in which Madame Magloire locked away the six silver forks and spoons and the large ladle every evening. It has to be said, the key was never removed.

This little old guy just likes his one material indulgence, but gives it away to Jean Valjean anyways!

Jean Valjean’s future arrival

Myriel writes in another one of his books:

Don’t ask the name of anyone that asks you for shelter. It is especially the person whose name is a burden to him that has need of shelter.

Castles in the air

I’m not sure if this was just common imagery at the time, and I’m also not sure if the wording is similar in the original French, but in 1.1.12, “blushing choristers… young priests, like Perrette with her pot of milk, build castles in the air!” is used to describe those seeking to advance socially via the seminary. As far as I’m aware, Cosette doesn’t really have any ambitions to do with the church, but still… castle on a cloud in the air mentioned!

Baptistine’s family is rich!

We obviously find out in her letter to her sister, but previous sections foreshadow this by connecting Baptistine with some nicer material goods:

Mademoiselle Baptistine also had in her room a very large bergère of wood that had once been gilt, and upholstered in a flower-patterned Peking silk.

… first a very nice armchair…

However, as we shall see, underneath the whitewashed paper Madame Magloire had recently discovered paintings that decorated Mademoiselle Baptistine’s room.

… and second, a plain exterior peeled off to expose art or luxury.

Honestly, when I first read those sentences, I almost thought she was being set up for like… a villain arc? Or at least a secret reveal arc? But nothing I’ve heard in fandom seems to indicate that so. I just suspected a wealthy background a couple chapters in advance, I guess.

A sentence in Baptistine’s letter

I don’t know if this leads to anything, or if it’s just an excuse for Hugo to shout “[Myriel] is still a true royalist”, but why was Baptistine’s sister asking about a De Faux family?

Facing death with radiance

This one is definitely more of a stretch, but when Myriel accompanies the man sentenced to death onto the scaffold of the guillotine, the criminal is described as such:

So crushed and despondent the previous day, the man facing death was radiant. He felt his soul have been reconciled and his trust was in God.

I’m not very into canon Enjoltaire, and the context here is a believer comforting the wretched by following them instead of the wretched following the believer, but I'll stretch to get the parallel anyways. I also just think the general concept of taking happiness and comfort in not facing it alone is very nice.

[blessedbyahuntress]

Blessed by a Trickster

Chapter Twenty-Four: Well, Fuck

Prev/Next

A/N: I was reminded about how much I love this song while writing this! Totally wasn't dancing around my room to this song before school. Nope.

Warnings: Blood, sword-fight

Word Count: 837

Listen to: Mutiny (I recommend just listening to the first part, but you do you)

When you awoke, you were still on deck, bathed in a pool of your own blood- golden ichor instead of red. 

Your head was pounding, yet you found it to be easy to sit up. The world spun for a moment, then settled back to normal. You let out a deep breath, glancing around, only to see practically the whole crew watching you. You flinched back at their stares.

“How long was I out?” You muttered.

Polites was the first to make a move, crouching down beside you to place a hand on your forehead. “You weren’t out at all, Y/N,” he said kindly. “At least- it was too short for you to be fully unconscious.”

“What?” All of the men took a step back in what seemed like unison. One person pointed a finger at your figure. 

You looked down, yelping in surprise when you saw your own wounds stitching themselves together, new skin going to overlap the wounded and torn. 

You lifted your gaze back up, locking eyes with Eurylochus. The sheer fury in them made your heart beat faster. “Eurylochus-”

“Tell me you did not know that would happen.” The second in command turned on his heel, glare finding Odysseus, who was standing a bit farther from the rest of the group. “Say you didn’t know how that would end.” 

He took a step forward, and Odysseus turned his head away. “I didn’t mean-”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me, captain,” Eurylochus interrupted. “That you did not just try to sacrifice Y/N!” The second in command began pacing back and forth, hands massaging his temples as he spoke. “Use your wits to try and say I’m crazy and mad, that this is all some trick the gods have sent!” He paused, eyes desperate as he searched Odysseus’s, gaze pleading for the captain to interrupt and say just that. When he apparently didn’t find what he was looking for, he resumed. “Tell me you did not miss home so painfully bad, that you tried to give up the life of your best friend!”

Eurylochus started counting on his fingers, words tumbling out even faster as he gave a quick look at you from over his shoulder. “When we fought the cyclops, you were quick to hatch a plan! And when we fought we Circe, it was you who left behind no man! But when we fought this monster, we didn’t take a stand.” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. “We just ran!” 

He finally stopped ranting, planting himself in front of Odysseus. “Say something!”

“I can’t!” Odysseus yelled back, expression mixed with sadness, regret, and perhaps a bit of confusion.

Eurylochus looked down, taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes as he drew his sword. “Then you have forced my hand.”

“Eurylochus!” You cried, lunging forward as if you could stop what was about to happen. “Stop! Lower your weapon!”

“No can do,” the second in command said coldly without a glance at you. He kept his attention trained on Odysseus. “You miss your wife so bad, you’d trade the lives of your own crew.”

The captain rested a hand on the hilt of his weapon. “Don’t make me fight you, brother. You know you’d have done the same.”

Eurylochus looked both disgusted and outraged at the idea as he leaped toward Odysseus. “If you want all the power, you must carry all the blame!”

“Eurylochus,” you begged as he clashed his sword against Odysseus’s. “Please… just stop. We can find a way that doesn’t end like this.”

The man froze, torn between obeying you and his rage on Odysseus. The captain took the opportunity to kick Eurylochus to the ground, using his sword to knock the second in command’s weapon out of his hands. It went skittering across the floorboards, stopping right in front of you. Your expression darkened as you used the sword to prop yourself up, Polites arm wrapped around your waist to help you rise to your feet. 

As soon as you could stand properly, you abandoned Polites, taking small, silent steps as you moved behind Odysseus. 

“I am not letting you get in my way!” You heard Odysseus screech, bringing down his blade. 

You moved swiftly, embedding the weapon deep into his thigh. You watched as Odysseus groaned, falling to his knees. You moved around to the front so that he could see you, and the blade that was now covered in his blood. “My sister,” Odysseus started. “Why?”

Your lips pursed, but you didn’t look away. “How am I supposed to trust you now?” You demanded. “Now, your time has come, your luck’s run out.” You felt the rest of the crew gathering behind your back, showing that you had their support. “Now, the time has come to shut you down.”

You leaned down, your voice dropping a bit. “You relied on wit, and I almost died on it.”

You brought your boot down on his face, stomping him into unconsciousness.

Taglist: @barrythestrawberry041 @thereigningking @m-carriaga2021 @jackintheboxs-world @fallenh34art @itzkingbo @sabrina-senpai @smartiepants217 @doodle-with-rhy @trashcannotbealive@uselessmoonlight@permanently-nothere@keikeiluvyou @followingthefanfiction @scarletdfox

[radfemfessing]

I will metion Neil Gaiman here and what he did to other women, so if you dont want to read about rape and assault please skip reading this one. The first bi female celebrity I discovered and liked was Amanda Palmer. I was a young teenager then and thought I was a lesbian. When I figured out that I was bi some time later, I didn't have any issues with it, partly because I knew cool celebrity bi women like Amanda Palmer. I loved her music, I found her attractive. I really liked her. I discovered that I prefered girls and decided to only date women and had two wonderful relationships. I was raped by a man after my last one. Amanda Palmer was also raped and assaulted and talked about it in interviews and songs. It took time to heal but after some years, I wanted to date again, so I tried dating apps. I met some really cool bi and lesbian women. But I also encountered a few bi (and maybe heterosexual) women who were fishing for their male partners. One time, I almost got raped by a man again because of one of them. One time, another bi woman confessed her love to me and made out with me only to reveal that her partner wanted to fuck me. One woman sent a picture of me to her male partner to determine if her having sex with me would turn him on. All of that hurt a lot. I stopped using dating apps a few years ago and have just been meeting women organically through shared interests or in real life. I just read an article about Neil Gaiman and the horrible things he did to a lot of women. His ex wife, Amanda Palmer knew about most, if not all of it. She sent him pictures of a young woman she had sex with and basically gave her away as a toy to her husband. I can't really describe what I'm feeling. I am not shocked because I never liked Gaiman and a lot of his work basically tells you what kind of person he is. I can't be shocked over what Palmer did either because she was with this man for years and found him attractive in the first place. I think it makes me feel more empty than upset. I didn't listen to her music for years, I don't think I even follow her anywhere on social media. Sometimes I maybe hum "map of tasmania" to myself in the shower. I think a tiny part in me was still a teenager who put her, at least as an artist, on some kind of pedestal. She is just like one of those women from the dating apps now. Disappointing. It makes me glad that I never followed in her footsteps with a lot of things, that I am gender critical and that I chose to only date women. Not sure where to go with this but I wanted to get this off my chest.

🥧

[alchemistdetective]

"He's fast...!"

CLANG!

For a brief moment, Clementia had to defend herself from his incoming attack, which means blocking his ID card with her machine gun, which meant that she had to stop firing for a moment.

As for the leader...

"Haaaaaahhhh!"

CRASH!

A direct hit! Their Leader managed to deliver a blow right onto his forehead! With a battle cry echoing throughout the city with her full strength, the sheer force of her strike left a faint scar etched into the earth where she landed.

This... this was truly her ultimate attack.

Taking a deep breath, the Leader’s glowing wings dimmed as she gracefully touched down onto the ground. The other two fairies followed suit, and Clementia was the first one to aim her gun targetted towards the Maverick's head.

"Game over."

"Clementia, wait!"

"... Why? No witnesses, remember?"

"I know, just... give me a bit. He's valuable."

The blonde hesitated, clearly uneasy with her leader’s decision, but ultimately she withdrew her weapon. Berry followed suit, signaling her dragon to stand down.

The Leader stepped forward, swiftly snatching the ID card from the gunner’s grasp. She gave it a quick glance, huffing lightly after skimming through the details.

Estoile moved closer, raising her sword until its tip hovered just a breath away from the man's neck. Her piercing gaze left no doubt, that any suspicious move would provoke an immediate attack.

"... Veno Young. Race, Terran. You look human, and yet... your abilities are anything but. Tell me, would you mind sitting down for a moment and explaining who sent you here to hunt us? And while you're at it, what exactly is a 'Terran'? Depending on your answer, we may decide how quickly to end your life."

Holding the ID card between her fingers, she flicked it back to him, her eyes never leaving his figure, ready for any hint of that ominous aura reappearing.

Their opponent, the Maverick, is a very intimidating figure, and really, while she does want to see a bullet put into the skull of the person who easily killed off Helia in a single headbutt along with landing multiple blows towards Nidhogg, extracting information was a higher priority.

They needed answers. Where he came from, who sent him, and his purpose of being here. Killing him outright would solve... nothing.

Because if there were others like him, or worse, this would be far from over.

"Tch!"

On her opponent shooting the energy ball towards her feet, Clementia quickly backed away out from surprise, because what the Maverick did was...

BLAM!

Explosions began in sequence on the ground, with one bomb exploding another, causing a chain reaction towards a sizable amount of them.

The entire battlefield exploded. Sparks flew, as the sniper was caught in the blast...

... but she was managed to be saved by the paladin, with Estoile carrying her off to safety in a bridal carry, hovering on the sky, out from the building.

"Oversight, huh?"

"... It's fine, as long as the enemy's dead. We're fairies, aren't we?"

"Don't act all tough on me, it still hurts to see you injured like that."

"... Whatever."

"Hah. Alright, Berry should be ready now. Oberon, ready?"

"On your signal."

Wasting no further time, Clementia set a good distance away from her opponent and her leader. The both of them faced their opponent, and before they believed the Maverick would process what just happened...

The leader gave the signal.

"Now!"

"��▮▮▮▮!!!"

And on that command, a singular, large purple energy beam came from the sky, shot by the wyvern who was a few meters away from the group.

The direction... was right into the building's roof which the three of them were standing on.

BOOM!

Clementia and Estoile activated their wings and managed to get away, while fully expecting the Maverick to jump out from the rubble as well.

The entire earth shook after the blast. The building seems to be falling apart.

In Clementia's hands is yet another weapon, the third and final of her selection. A sub-machine gun, or an SMG. When fired, the bullets were all firing homing green bullets, and she's flying right below him.

Low damage, but well, damage is still damage... and it's made more to pester for the other attack.

Because from above... was their leader. But unlike before, her wings grew brighter in color, and she has an aura of flame.

If Seiga were here, she might recognize the same feeling back when Crescent used it in her fight. A temporary power-up... at the cost of their own internal magic reserves.

Which means... Estoile plans to finish it before he pulls off any more tricks up his sleeve, like that malicious red aura around him.

"Light up! Albion!"

FLASH!

Her sword's blade formed into a giant, glowing blade of light, almost three times her size.

And like a giant greatsword... she swung towards her opponent, as if she was delivering God's judgement...!

"Sear my enemies with your brilliant light!"

The blade has been swung from above, charging towards her opponent in full force!

An attack from above, bullets from below, and if the Maverick hits the lower levels, a wyvern will be there waiting, ready to hit him with it's tail and to limit his movement.

What to do...?

[picaroposting]

look okay it's bad to erase marvin's canonical sexuality and the fact that She Likes Men but i literally genuinely with all my heart think that she is a trans woman

[deus-ex-mona]

s. s ave me, meoto…

[fortunatefool]

Forgot to do a change of address and had to go to 2 different polling places and one of them twice in order to vote also worked a full day so this started at 5pm after a really shitty day, went to one, told to go to the old one, get there, get told no vote but we can help fix it, but the computer doesn't like it, so they try a few things, still doesn't work, so she whips out a thick ass flip phone and calls someone without dialing to help me, and they're all sooooo pisssed that the first place didn't just do this for me bc theyre 40 minutes apart and I stared at 5 and polls close at 7 so I'm crying for a sec, but I pull it together and let them know it's just frustrating especially after a really awful day, the lady on the phone does my stuff, I get there, and I voted at 6:45 baby down to the FUCKING wire I'm drunk now but you get the gist of what happened they tried to suppress my vote but God loves me and wanted me to vote for abortion rights so he cleared a path for me but left a few obstacles to make sure I truly am a righteous warrior with his vision in my heart and he's really into reproductive rights. Anyway I took a dab and rolled a fat joint and drinking schapps nothing can hurt me now I'm so fucked up lolll I love you guys 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 get some sleep let's see what happens! RADICAL ACCEPTANCE

[coweye]

The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice. 

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was. 

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot. 

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired. 

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face. 

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her. 

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised. 

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features. 

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully. 

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling. 

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red. 

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man. 

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry. 

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.  

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits. 

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?” 

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed. 

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping. 

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline. 

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers. 

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted. 

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet. 

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists. 

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.” 

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp. 

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?” 

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form. 

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue. 

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now.  “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-” 

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily. 

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other. 

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion.  “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that. 

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground. 

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind. 

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him. 

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy. 

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you. 

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead. 

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do. 

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip. 

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura. 

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan. 

He’s just Logan. 

You bury yourself deeper in his neck. 

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut. 

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs. 

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?” 

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you. 

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back. 

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not. 

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue. 

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter.  He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips. 

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his. 

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.  

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist. 

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart. 

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you. 

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close. 

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve. 

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him. 

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him. 

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional. 

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he. 

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth. 

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you. 

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-” 

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you. 

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch. 

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth. 

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast. 

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole. 

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin. 

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it. 

 He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. 

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach. 

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin. 

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard. 

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy. 

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you. 

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers. 

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go. 

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does. 

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing. 

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably. 

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down. 

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh. 

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection. 

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again. 

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind. 

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence. 

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched. 

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“AGH!”  Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you. 

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend. 

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous.  Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands. 

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you.  Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?” 

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously. 

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest. 

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different. 

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours. 

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back. 

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

everyone knows dr. zayne is cool as a cucumber, and it's a given for him that you're known as his wife, but when a fresh-faced new resident seemingly makes a move on you... what will he do?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, jealousy (a very jealous zayne, in fact), making out in his office, crack, fluff, hunter!reader, you and zayne have a daughter

note: inspired by that one kim min-kyu scene in business proposal :D this is actually an extension for nocturne of twilight and dawn's first light but can also be read as standalone

You hadn't seen your husband for two weeks.

There was a spring on your step when you entered Akso Hospital right after your long intercity mission. You had acquired some bruises and they weren't anything serious, so you figured you’d just have Greyson treat them. Besides, it gave you the perfect excuse to hand him some cookies as a souvenir.

And, of course, ask him to ring for Zayne to meet you once he had the time.

"Miss, do you need help?"

But a curious voice addressed you when you loitered around in the lobby, and you turned around to find a bright-faced young man with red hair and wearing doctor's coat.

"Ah, yes, I want to meet Dr. Zayne," you smiled. "Or Dr. Greyson will do."

The young doctor perked up at the names you mentioned. "Oh, are you a patient? Do you have an appointment already?"

"Hmm, no, actually I am—"

You halted mid-sentence before the words his wife slipped out, rethinking your choice. You knew of Zayne's infamous reputation in the hospital, and while almost everyone in his floor knew you, this new doctor didn't, and you thought it was best to leave it that way.

"Yeah, I already have an appointment," you nodded, plastering an thin smile. "Just tell Dr. Greyson that Y/N wants to meet him."

"Right, right, I'll page him now..." he mumbled, pulling out his pager and his phone. "I'll text him too..."

"Thank you."

"O-oh, Miss! Wait!" the young man called after you in a hurry when you turned around. "I've noticed it for a while, you have a cut on the side of your lips..."

"Ah, this..." Your fingers instinctively brushed the dried blood on your lips. You hadn’t thought the small cut was noticeable. "Yes, it’s from earlier—"

"Actually, I’m an ER resident!" he interrupted with a bright grin. "Let me treat you first!"

Caught off guard by his enthusiasm, you barely had time to react as he gently but firmly guided you towards the emergency room.

"Dr. Zayne! Dr. Zayne! Your wife is here~!"

Zayne had barely stepped into his office after a grueling surgery when Greyson barged in, all too casually, delivering the news with a grin. "She’s waiting in the lobby!"

He blinked, slightly taken aback. "Oh?"

You're back? He pulled out his muted phone, checking the notifications. Sure enough, you’d sent him a message an hour ago, letting him know you’d safely landed in Linkon.

His little, snarky wife. For the past two weeks you had been away, the house had felt lonelier. Sure, his daughter—who resembled you in personality, no less—was a bundle of sunshine and adorable beyond words, but without you, there was always that subtle void in the air.

Or maybe it wasn’t the house at all? Maybe it was just him—utterly, hopelessly whipped.

"Why isn’t she coming up to my office?" he asked suddenly, noticing the odd detail.

"Hmm, yeah, and it’s weird... why did the new resident say she’s asking for me?" Greyson mused, turning toward Zayne. "Don’t you want to meet her instead? Whatever she needs me for, I’m sure you could handle it."

Zayne promptly left his office and took long strides toward the elevator. As the doors started to close, he even half-sprinted, calling out to the person inside to hold it for him.

Okay, maybe he was a little too eager, but was it really so wrong to be this excited to see his wife again when the two of you had been apart for two weeks?

...then again, you didn't need to know. You would roast him to bits should you know he missed you this much.

Zayne got off at the lobby, expecting to find you there— only to find the usual flow of hospital staff and visitors. He was about to call you when he wandered past the emergency room and turned the corner—and that’s when he got his shock of the day.

There you were. But not alone.

With a guy.

Whose hand is touching your lips.

"It must be tough being a hunter, huh?"

The red-haired resident carefully tended to your bruised arm, wrapping it in a fresh bandage as you sighed, thinking back to the mission. "Yeah, there are definitely some hard days..."

"But despite all that, you still keep yourself in shape!" he remarked, eyeing your toned arms with a hint of admiration.

You let out a sheepish laugh, remembering those pull-ups sessions with Zayne. "Haha, that's because my husband makes sure I'm getting enough exercise..."

"You're married?!" His voice was filled with disbelief, and it caught you off guard, yet he grinned afterwards. "Wow! Is he a hunter too?"

You would've never guessed, boy. This resident doctor was cute, you thought, ever so curious at everything. You could only imagine the look on his face if you told him that the Dr. Zayne was your husband.

You were about to refute it when his fingers brushed against your lips. "Oh, sorry, let me apply some ointment here first..."

His touch felt cool to your lips and you were momentarily stunned at the contact— but then a gruff cough startled you so much you almost jumped.

The towering figure of your husband behind him. Zayne's dark gaze was fixed on the man in front of you, like he could murder the poor guy with just a look.

"Z-Zayne...?" you squeaked against the ointment on your lips, and the resident quickly turned behind him in surprise, hastily greeting him, "Oh, Dr. Zayne!"

Zayne shot the poor man a single, pointed look before his gaze shifted to you, clearly unamused.

He suddenly grabbed your hand and, without sparing the resident another glance, swiftly pulled you away. The other guy was left standing there, speechless, as Zayne led you off, leaving him in the dust.

. . .

"Zayne!"

Oh, how he actually missed his name coming out from your lips.

"Are you done with your schedule?" you asked as he pulled you into the elevator, confusion evident in the way you tilted your head. But when he didn’t answer, you glanced down at his firm grip on your arm, suddenly realizing something. "Wait, no... are you angry?"

Sigh. It irked him so much, actually. Because, how could you, after weeks—

No, he actually knew he was being irrational. He shouldn’t overreact like this just because someone else touched you. But why is he so annoyed, still?

"Wait, why?" you kept asking, wide-eyed, as the two of you stepped out and made way towards his office. "I'm not injured! I'm fine! It's just some bruises—"

Without a word, Zayne pulled you into his office, swiftly locking the door behind him. Before you could say another word, he cornered you against the wall, and you fell silent instantly.

It had been a while since he’d seen you this way—stunned, caught off guard, and utterly silent under his gaze. He studied your face closely, watching the way your breath hitched as the tension between you both thickened.

It sparked something inside him seeing you like this, a sense of satisfaction that he couldn’t quite explain, but one he welcomed nonetheless.

That was when he saw the blood on your lips. "Did you get punched in the face?"

"Y-Yes, but— it's nothing severe!" you defended, trying to convince him. "It's such a small cut anyway!"

He frowned. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"What? Hey, I was about to ask Greyson, but—"

That got him frown even deeper, even irate. "Why Greyson? When you come home with any injuries, you come to me, not anyone else."

You let out a resigned sigh, slumping your shoulders in defeat. "Because I know you'll fuss over me, duh."

"I don't fuss," he retorted.

"You do," you shot back, pursing your lips. "You try to act like this cool, calm robot all the time, but you always drone on and on whenever you patch me up. You're worried, it shows."

Zayne huffed, shifting his gaze away from you as he felt his face burn. Was he that obvious? How could he not, though, when you managed to get hurt so often and yet acted so innocent about it?

Then as if inspired, you caught on immediately. Your eyes sparkled, and a mischievous smirk tugged at your lips. "Wait, just now... don't tell me... Are you jealous?"

Damn.

"Heh, Dr. Zayne, really?" Your voice was playful now, mocking him. "Whoa, how can this be?"

How had you figured him out so easily?

You continued in a sing-song voice, putting both hands on your chest, "Ah, my heart flutters! My husband is apparently—"

Enough. This time, his patience snapped.

He didn’t hesitate even for a moment. A low growl escaped him, and in one swift motion, he crashed his lips against yours, silencing you with the most effective method he could think of.

"Mmph!" You gasped in surprise, the teasing words at the end of your tongue completely forgotten. His gray eyes gleamed. Been too long, he thought, and now he was making sure you knew just how badly he craved this.

The kiss was searing as he deepened it, his tongue seeking yours with urgency. "Hngh!" You let out a feeble whine when he teased you by biting your lips.

Zayne held back a snort. One of his hand then strayed inside your hunter uniform, unclasping your bra with a flick.

"—?!" Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening, and before you could process it, he pulled away. But you were far from right in thinking it was over. The dangerous gleam in his eyes kept you tense as he swiftly removed his glasses...

...before he pulled you back towards him and claimed your lips once again.

With a swift, commanding motion, he guided you toward his desk. His papers scattered at the sudden movement, but he had you bent over it regardless, forcing your body to arch. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, while his right hand fondled your breasts, repeatedly squeezing, palming and switching between them.

"Mmm...!" You let out a strangled moan, instinctively holding onto his shoulder, feeling the way how he groped you ignited your core. "Ahh..."

Your body was tantalizing as always. Hardened and sometimes bruised from your work it may be, but to Zayne, you were still beautiful as ever.

When you gasped for air, he decided he was done with your swollen lips. His lips then trailed down to your neck, sucking hard on it, creating a squelching sound that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"W-what's... gotten into you...?" you breathed out, tangling your fingers in his hair, hyperaware of his hands still roaming over your nipples.

In response, he nibbled at your skin and flicked your breasts at the same time, causing you to freeze and draw a sharp, hitched breath. "Haah...!"

Unbeknownst to you, his lips curled wickedly at your reaction, and he continued to pepper your neck with series of wet sucks as if to mark you altogether. You writhed under him, whiny and sighing, relishing his hot breath on your skin.

You were utterly at his mercy, pliant and helpless in his hands. There was a deep satisfaction in knowing he was the only one who could bring you, his lawfully wedded wife, to this state—

Still, he wouldn’t allow you to be indecent in a place like this. When he finally pulled back, he was breathing heavily, eyes dark with lust, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of your jaw. "Don’t tempt me," he muttered, voice low and raspy.

You gazed up at him, your heart pounding. "Zayne..." you whispered, a whine broke through the heat on your flushed face.

His expression softened just enough, a flicker of tenderness cutting through the intensity. Pretty. That’s what you were, undeniably so. How he had missed out on you so long once was his greatest regret.

Carefully, he helped you sit upright, his touch gentle as he clasped your bra and began buttoning up your uniform, disheveled from his earlier ministrations.

The gentle way he touched you was a stark contrast to how it was earlier. "Is that a new way to treat busted lip?" you nudged his collar, feeling a little braver now.

"For bad wives, yeah."

"I'm not a bad wife! Just disobedient on some occasion."

Zayne's fingers brushed your face as he finished with your uniform, his dark-gray eyes steady on you. You pouted.

"You're the one who's bad," you accused with slight resentment, not missing a beat as the heat between your legs started to dissipate. "Leaving me unfinished like that."

"Hmm? Am I?" he murmured, the faintest amusement in his tone.

"You have to take responsibility tonight, you big meanie," you mumbled, your pout deepening as you avoided meeting his gaze.

Zayne snorted at the sight of you—so precious in his eyes, his thumb lightly grazing the corner of your lips in a gesture so tender it made your heart skip, before whispering in your ear:

"Well, if your voice won't wake our daughter, that is."

Epilogue

Not long after, just as you had gathered yourself and were preparing to leave the hospital to head home, a sudden knock at the door of his office startled you both.

Quickly, you moved to sit on the patient’s seat, feigning nonchalance as you braced yourself for whoever was on the other side. Zayne reached for the door, but before he could unlock it, a familiar voice called out.

"Excuse me!" the resident's voice sounded a bit hesitant but firm. "Dr. Zayne, the miss left her handbag earlier!"

Zayne let out a low, irked sigh. You glanced at him curiously, watching as he opened the door and came face-to-face with the redheaded resident.

Without a word, he extended his hand, and the resident blinked before handing over the bag.

"I-is the miss still here?" the young doctor asked, almost intimidated by his unfriendly gaze.

"Ma'am," Zayne corrected, his voice flat.

"Huh?"

"Call her ma'am. She's someone's wife."

"O-oh, and her husband is—"

"Me. I am her husband."

Your eyes widened in surprise at the matter-of-fact exchange, heat rising to your cheeks as Zayne’s words hung confidently in the air. He curtly thanked the poor resident before slamming the door shut in his face.

Your jaw practically hit the floor. "Zayne!" you gasped, staring at him as he turned back towards you, entirely unbothered.

Your husband was as cold as the snowman he often made, but somehow the way he boldly declared he was your husband was just so him that it made you so giddy.

You tilted your head, crossing your arms with a playful smile. "You’re really jealous, huh? How?"

He didn’t answer, his gaze still fixed elsewhere, most definitely trying to save his dignity.

You chuckled softly, stepping closer to him with a teasing sway. Your fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, turning him to face you, and you winked at him mischievously.

"Well, I’m all yours. But if it makes you feel better, maybe I’ll stay away from any ER residents for a while~"

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : you are Spencer Reid's roommate, the team finds out about you when a case brings them to the university you study at word count : 2.5k warning : canon-typical violence A/N : the university is a random one I picked in Virginia, bear with me because I don't know how US university systems work, thanks :) I think this is a part one, there may be a part two or even more, idk, but tell me what you think !

part 2, part 3, part 4

"I- I'm sorry, what university did you say?" Spencer's frantic tone was immediately noticed by his colleagues. Suddenly, he seemed hyperaware of everything in the room. The loud AC, Derek's pen-clicking and the overwhelming smell of Emily's coffee. "Mary Washington University," JJ answered swiftly, eyes narrowed as she sent Reid a confused glance. The man in question mumbled a few words under his breath and shot up, grabbing his coat and scarf. "We need to go." His tone, unusually urgent, left no space for debate or questioning. He was out the door within seconds, followed closely by Morgan and the others.

When you'd applied for Mary Washington University, you had known you would have to get an apartment. You lived too far away to even consider taking the numerous trains and buses and subways to get there. So, when you had been accepted into your first choice of universities, you'd started apartment hunting. Or roommate-hunting, to be more precise.

To say you had been unlucky would have been quite the understatement. You'd visited four apartments so far and could not even consider living in one of them for a second. The first had been full of frat boys who made your skin crawl, the second was with an old, far right-wing couple, the third had been two sisters who'd yelled at each other for the whole time you were there and the fourth had been so crowded your were certain it was neither sanitary not legal for another person to live there. With the deadline of university starting and having to move all your things, you were starting to get quite anxious. But call it chance or fate, one day you stumbled upon an advertisement for an apartment in a nice neighbourhood with one person who seemed quite normal. This person was a state-employee (which meant a stable salary and that meant you wouldn't have to compensate for rent) who travelled often for work and liked to keep mostly to themselves. Not one for big parties, they preferred a night-in and rarely had people over.

So you'd put on your big-girl pants and had walked over to what you hoped would be your last apartment visit. You hadn't been expecting such a young person to open the door because of the way the advert had been written and because of what it said. "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." You noticed he didn't hold his hand out and mirrored his behaviour. "Hi! I'm here for a visit!" You introduced yourself somewhat shyly, feeling intimidated. This man was at the most five years older than you and he was already a doctor?

He showed you around the apartment, which you liked very much. The rooms smelled like books and tea and everything was kept very clean. On the whole, it was tidy, even if a few books or articles were stacked in some odd places. The bedroom you'd stay in was large and luminous. After the tour, he made you a cup of tea as you discussed formalities.

"Uh, so, you’re a student, right?" he'd asked politely as he added a worrying amount of sugar in his earl grey. You bit back a teasing jest. You hoped maybe one day you'd get to place where you could comment on his daily sugar intake. "Yeah, um, I'm studying English Literature and Cinema." You stirred your tea, looking around the kitchen. Even though it was painted a dark, forest green, it still seemed luminous in the afternoon sun. "Oh, that's super interesting! I’ve always found texts in Middle English particularly insightful! I- I read the Canterbury Tales when I was about 10 years old. It’s fascinating the way in which issues which were already current then are still very present today, like in the Wife of Bath’s tale, for example-“

He cut himself off, leaning back into the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, you probably don’t want me to ramble about what you already know.” “No, I think it’s amazing that you would know that, actually. What else did you like in the Wife of Bath’s tale?” Spencer seemed to brighten up at your words and thus ensued a lengthy discussion of the avant-garde themes evoked by Geoffrey Chaucer. You were fascinated by his knowledge and found his passion especially endearing. Lots of your professors weren’t even that passionate when talking of late 14th century literature.

After discussing rent, which you would afford by waitressing at a local bar, lightly touching upon political subjects (on which you seemed to agree on), he finally told you that he was an FBI agent. "Excuse me?" you spluttered, leaning backwards in shock. "I'm a profiler with the BAU, the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I can show you my badge if you want." He stood up and reached for his bag, but you stopped him in his tracks. "No, no, that's okay, I believe you. I'm just surprised, that's all, sorry." His expansive knowledge of so many things seemed fitting for an agent of the BAU. After realising you were the first person who didn't demand his badge as proof of his profession, Spencer granted you a small smile. "You don't need to apologise. I- I know it can be a bit... off-putting." He sat back down and looked you in the eye. "Is that a problem for you, living with a federal agent?"

You thought about it for a second. As a general rule, you weren't a big fan of cops. Even more generally, you didn't believe in the structure of today's society. But that was a big topic. Plus, a profiler wasn't really a cop, was he? "No, that's not a problem for me."

You'd moved in a month and a half later. Things had been slightly awkward at first and you'd had to figure out what kind of dynamic Spencer and you had. But eventually, you’d found your rhythm.

When Spencer left for work, you took care of his plants and sent him pictures of Geoffrey. Geoffrey was the cat you’d found on the street and taken in. He was named after Geoffrey Chaucer, author of the Canterbury Tales, your first common point of interest. Spencer had been reluctant at first, but you’d taken him to the vet, where he was tested and vaccinated, and the man had finally accepted him into your shared space. Now, he loved the little creature. Sometimes, you’d call him to ask how he was doing and whether he was safe. He’d always reply that yes, he was doing fine and no, he wasn’t in any danger, don’t you worry. He’d ask how you were doing and if you were staying on top of uni work and if you’d eaten and if Geoffrey wasn't being too annoying. As an orange cat, he had his particular tendencies.

When Spencer was at home, you'd always look forward to getting back from class. There was always that sense of comfort and ease when he was around. You had found a lovely routine quite easily. You'd both work or study, then cook, eat together and afterwards maybe you'd watch a movie or something. You were at a point where you could comment on his daily sugar intake, which he's started correcting since meeting you. He loved the Big Bang Theory and though you weren't such a fan, you loved the little laughs he let out and all the corrections he'd make. In general, you liked when he talked. Even more generally, you liked him. You also liked Friends and though Ross got on Spencer's nerves, he enjoyed being able to discuss it with you afterwards. The two of you got very close without even noticing.

Sometimes, you'd remember he wasn't just your roommate, but also a man. He'd make you a cup of tea and you'd stare at his hands a little too long while he stirred the honey in. Or he'd help you reach for a cup with his impressive height, his front just skimming your back with a shiver. He'd tell you to breathe and sit down when you were upset about something. A few times, he drove you home from a night out with your friends and laid his hand on your knee. He was the only one who remembered how you'd told him you wanted to kiss him.

With you, Spencer discovered many things he had never experienced before. A healthy, comforting and peaceful routine. A supporting, non-judgemental, healthy friendship. Easy laughter in the middle of the night and tired "good morning"s at dawn. Butterflies in his stomach whenever you touched him. A budding romance which kept him awake at night.

So when that was threatened, he just about lost it.

"Oh my God." "I can't believe this." "Is this a prank?" "Did someone call 911?" "What about her parents?" "Oh, that's sick."

Voices swarmed around your head, making you dizzy. Your hand rested over your mouth as you stared at the body strewn on the lawn. Much of the student body stood next to you, just as shocked. Mary Goldman had been her name. You'd crossed her just this morning in the main hall and had exchanged small smiles. You had thought that she looked really pretty today, but hadn't told her. You regretted that now. At the moment, her mascara had run down her cheeks and dried and her lipstick and been smudged. Bruises and cuts decorated her bare arms and legs and a big red stain sat on the side of her stomach. The contrast between her dead body and the green, thriving grass beneath her was haunting.

You turned away, feeling sick. You felt your friend's hand on your shoulder, a small source of comfort anchoring you to reality. Facing the road as you turned, you were surprised to see three big black SUVs speeding towards the crowd. You'd been expecting an ambulance, or cops. Not whoever these guys were. They screeched to a stop, drawing everyone's attention. A small dozen of people stormed out, all dressed differently though they all held the same aura of importance, knowledge and authority. You turned back to your friends. "Who are these-"

You stopped mid-sentence when you heard your name being called out urgently. You'd have recognised his voice amidst a thousand others. He spoke your name like no other. You frantically looked around, pushing your way to the large vehicles. When you finally spotted him, tears started pricking your eyes. "Spencer," you breathed in a half-sob. His eyes ran you over once, twice, assessing any damage. When he saw there was no physical wound, his shoulders sank in relief. He opened his arms and you rushed inside his warm embrace almost reflexively. Neither of you noticed the numerous pair of curious eyes observing your intimate exchange.

"Oh my God, Spence- What- What are you doing here?" you'd cried into his cardigan. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent he always bore. He wrapped an arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, holding the back of your head in a consoling manner. "We're- We're taking this on as a case, sweets. Are you all right?" He knew it was a stupid question but all the emotions and tension were barely wearing off and he didn't know what else to say. You pulled away but he kept you at arm's length, holding your cold, shaking hands in his warm, steady ones. "I- Yeah, it's just- I- I saw her this morning! How could she- Why would someone do this to her? To- to anyone?!" Spencer cooed and pulled you into another tight hug as you continued to ramble through your tears. When you'd eventually calmed down thanks to his words of reassurance, he pulled away softly.

Spencer understood what you meant perhaps more than anyone. The sadness, the shock, the anger, the need to understand. He gently wiped away the mascara under your eyes with his thumb. "I know, I- It's- Even I don't always understand, sweetheart, so don't- Why don't you go home? I'd come with you but-" You nodded, biting your lower lip. He gave you a sad smile. "I promise I'll join you as soon as this is over. You- you can make yourself a cup of tea and process all this and pet Geoffrey, okay? Classes are going to be cancelled either way." "I don't want to-" The look in his eyes kept you from arguing further. You nodded, giving him another hug. Before you left, an older man came over to you.

"I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm Agent David Rossi. I just had a question-" "Rossi," interrupted Spencer with a stern tone you'd never heard before. The older Agent raised an eyebrow at him. "Just one question." He turned back to you. "At what time did you say you saw the victim?" You inhaled shakily, running a hand over your face. "Uh, it must have been around quarter to eleven. I think- Yeah, somewhere between ten thirty and eleven." "Thank you, miss." You didn't miss the glance shared between the two men before Rossi retreated.

"Who was that?" asked Emily as soon as you'd left and Spencer had joined them behind the police tape. "No one," Spencer brushed her off as he kneeled next to the victim. Strangely, he hated the idea of someone who knew you dying. It felt too close to home. "C'mon, man, you lost your shit this morning, a girl you clearly know very well runs into your arms, you snap at Rossi and you expect us to believe you?" Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the rest of the team. All were staring at him patiently. He stood up, swallowing.

"That was my roommate." He informed the team of your name and of how you'd been living together for a few years now. "Spencer, you've been living with a woman for years and you've never told us?!" Derek was all but hysteric. Hotch reminded him that everyone was entitled to a private life. "So, are you dating or something?" Emily prodded again. Spencer hesitated a second before answering. "No." Derek scoffed, appalled. "You mean to tell me you've been living with a beautiful woman like that for years and nothing's ever happened?!" "Not everyone is like you, Morgan," Emily reminded with a teasing smirk. Derek sent her an unimpressed look. "Look, let's all grill Spencer later, we have a case to focus on right now." Rossi, ever the voice of reason, directed everyone's attention back to the corpse laying next to them.

Needless to say, the BAU team did not need to interrogate Spencer or attack him with incessant questions to find much out. They'd seen by his behaviour that very morning how much he cared about you. They'd seen how relieved he had been when he'd seen you safe and sound. They'd noticed you'd only started crying when you'd seen him, a big sign of trust. They had never heard him call another by pet names such as "sweets" or "sweetheart". They'd read both of your body languages like a children's book and translated it easily.

Love. Comfort. Peace. Ease.

[matchingbatbites]

Eddie doesn't like sports.

Well, okay, that's not technically true. Growing up in the deep south left him with an ingrained interest in college football that he's not sure he'll ever be able to shake, but at least he can understand that game. He doesn't know a single fucking thing about hockey.

The rest of the guys had been excited when Chrissy said the band had been offered tickets to see the local NHL team. He was upset by how quickly he'd been outnumbered, but the boys had plied him with the promise of violence on ice, and that was enough to sooth the betrayal, at least a little.

Which is how he finds himself here, smushed between Chrissy and Gareth and not really as engaged as he should be, watching a bunch of men run around on the ice - sometimes literally, which is crazy. There has been a little violence though, so that's something at least.

Eddie blinks when Chrissy hands him a small dry erase board and a couple of markers that she pull from her bag. "What's this for?"

"You're famous, Eddie. The arena staff knows we're here, which means we're probably going to be on camera. I figured you could entertain yourself with some appropriate messages. Appropriate," she reiterates, and Eddie grabs at his chest like he's been shot.

"You wound me! As if I would ever deign to flash the cameras with a message that's anything less than the pinnacle of wholesome!"

Chrissy rolls her eyes but smiles - ever used to his dramatics by now - and just turns back to the game. Right, sometimes it's easy to forget that Chrissy is actually a sports person.

Eddie gets to work on his first message, not entirely sure when they're going to be the focus of the large screen above them. Chrissy glances over to see what he's writing and just sighs, and Eddie can't bite back his grin.

It's actually not too long before the announcer mentions something that isn't related to the game, and then-

"With nearly twelve million monthly listeners on Spotify, please welcome local metal band, Corroded Coffin!"

Eddie looks up to see their faces on the screen and grins as he turns his board around, showing off the LOOKIN 4 HUSBAND he's written in block letters. There's a mix of cheers and laughter from the crowd, and Eddie can't help but give a joking wink to the camera before he's laughing as well.

Chrissy smacks him on the arm and says "I can't believe you," but she's smiling as well. Eddie just shrugs and cleans the message from the whiteboard, freeing up space for him to doodle in between catching glances at the game.

It's a little bit later when a big fight breaks out, and a few players from each team are sent to the- box? The box. Eddie watches the big screen as the camera follows one of the players, tracking the man as he steps inside the little booth and rips his helmet off in frustration and- holy shit.

The guy is fucking stunning; his jaw, his nose, his sweat-damp hair and the beauty marks scattered across his skin like stars. Eddie wants to get closer, wants to know the color of his eyes and smooth the crease between his brows, wants to shove his fingers into that pretty, pink mouth-

And then the camera changes, going back to the players on the ice, and Eddie blinks like he's been released from a spell. He turns to Chrissy, one hand grabbing at her arm as he says "Who the fuck was that guy?"

Chrissy glances at him but keeps most of her attention on the game. "Harrington? He's literally the captain of our team, Eddie. I know you're not super into this, but that's kind of a hard thing to miss."

The man huffs a little as he releases Chrissy's arm. "I know literally jack-shit about this game, Chrissy, nothing is hard to miss."

Eddie takes the chance to re-write his white board before turning it to face outward, hoping that some cameraman will take pity on him and put him back on screen. He's not sure how long Harrington has in what is essentially timeout, but Eddie keeps his eyes on him all the same, glad that they're actually not too far away from the box.

It's a couple of minutes later when the announcer says "Looks like our friends Corroded Coffin have another message, this time for team captain Steve Harrington," and Eddie doesn't need to look to know that the screen is showing his new sign: #14 U R PRETTY. DATE?

He sees Harrington - Steve - look up, and watches as the frustration melts from his face, only for the prettiest pink blush to spread across his cheeks and ears. The guy laughs - and christ, Eddie didn't think he could get any more beautiful, but here he is - and doesn't hesitate to nod, even makes a little call me motion like he knows Eddie's watching him.

Eddie beams and nods back, laughs when the other player in the box shoves Steve playfully and makes a comment that deepens the blush on his face. He gets a couple of shoves and smacks from his own friends and a bewildered "I can't believe you just did that!" from Gareth.

Chrissy leans into him as he cleans the board again. "Hockey's not so boring now, is it?" she says, and Eddie can't help but agree, his eyes never leaving the ice - leaving Steve - for the rest of the game.

[elizzsush]

Merfolk Courting Rituals | TWST

Octavinelle Dorm X Reader

Azul X Reader, Jade X Reader, Floyd X Reader,

---- Merfolk typically have instinctual ways they begin 'courting' or a relationship, in the deep sea you need to be sure of your partner after all. (Non-Human courting rituals part 2/3)

Savanaclaw Ver. | Diasomnia Ver.

Floyd:

It was spring when it happened. Almost summer. The days we’re warming up and everyone was suffering a bit for it.

Usually, you would be able to go about your business alone, or perhaps with the company of Grim if he felt like it. Today however, a certain eel was towering over your shoulder. “Shrimpy~” he’d giggle, a shiver was sent down your spin at his voice.

You slowly turned around. “A-ah? Hey Floyd…” you smiled warily. You usually, like most people in school, avoided the eel like the plague. He flashed his sharp teeth at you and extended his hand, the other one in his pocket in a more relaxed manner then your posture.

“A tooth…?” You squinted at the item, it was pointy: like his own teeth.

Realistically, you didn’t really wanna hold this. Not that you’d tell him that. You glanced up at him again and saw those same teeth, not a single one out of place. “Do ya like it?~”

He leaned closer to your face, his eyes widened ever so slightly in a more intimidating manner. Clearly his lack of personal space had never changed. “Um… yes! I do…?!” You were quick to awnser back.

Pleased with himself, he giggled loudly and walked away.

What was that about?

After that he’d keep approaching you with odd gifts… at one point he presented you with the largest pearl you’ve ever laid your eyes on and then the next day he gifted you with a handful of beautiful scales.

You dreaded to think about the poor mer behind that gift…

Either way, this was suspicious, right? When Floyd leech approached you, you either run away or get squeezed, why were you getting gifts? It also didn’t help your relationship with the Housewarden of Heartslabyul, who now avoids you like the plague.

Seriously, when you walk into a room Riddle happened to be in, he jumps up and leaves immediate- sometimes even running away like you were his tormentor instead of Floyd!

You’d also noticed that Floyd would yawn more around you… You didn’t think you were boring either because he wouldn’t be around you if you were boring to begin with! “Are you getting enough sleep?”

“Eh? Shrimpy doesn’t like me?” Floyd pouted, You noticed him glance at your mouth breifly. “Shrimpy~ that’s rude.” He’d whine louder, a darker look in his eyes than usual. You had no clue if you had offended him or not that time…

Another time was this happened. It actually happened far more often than you would think or enjoy.

“Shrimpy~” he’d say repeatedly to annoy you while you walked around school. Like when a sibling kept poking at you and claiming they weren’t touching you, but he had his hands behind his head as he followed behind you a bored expression on his face. He had been hanging around you more.

Sadly that meant your friends were less likely to approach you. And if they did it was because they neglected to see the towering eel boy.

“My, My, Floyd had taken quite a liking to you.” Jade stated offhandedly one day. You were at the Mostro Lounge (Azul was tired of Floyd skipping work and offered you free meals to hang out so Floyd would get back to work.)

You glanced at the Eel with a confused look. “What do you mean?” He simply looked down at the small necklace you had made with Floyd’s… gifts of a tooth and scales. I’m your defense they made very nice jewelry. Was it a bit messed up to be wearing some students scale and possibly their tooth? Perhaps… but you were poor and wanted something nice to wear.

With the same odd mysterious smile, Jade was off to serve the next costumer.

So you took it upon yourself to figure out what that meant!

First you went asking around Octavinelle. This was a bad idea because most students avoid you like you were Floyd.

Thankfully you managed to corner one, A trembling student you was glancing behind and around you the whole while you talked to him. "So?" You finally asked, a hand on your hip.

"Uh... What? C-could you repeat the question...?" He finally looked to you.

"Whats up with Floyd!" You finally snapped a bit, with a groan and a small eyeroll you glared at the smallfry.

"A-aren't you his...?"

"What on earth does that mean..." You groaned in annoyance too yourself. You were still, very, extremely lost.

Jade:

Whatever do you mean? You started courting him first if he wasn’t mistaken.

It was a Monday afternoon during autumn you believed, when he was serving you in the Mostro Lounge while you were studying. (They had a exclusive deal that lasted only that day) It was pretty late and so, you, like a very normal human, yawned. “My, If I’m not mistaken this is hardly that time of year.” He replied slyly as he gave you your half off drink.

You just glanced at him in confusion as he bowed and excused himself, ever the polite waiter.

That was… odd.

What was stranger was, now Jade has this habit of gifting you things he found on his hikes. It started with a flower to then a mushroom and for some reason he had gifted you a rock? He said he found it “fascinating” So he gifted it to you.

You didn’t really know either…

This whole issue began to intimidate you. I mean, Jade leech, gifting you things? There had to be some kind of motive behind it! There is always a motive behind the Octa-trios advances.

So, not wanting to owe him anything, you began gifting him things in return. “I found this at the store and thought you might like it.” You’d smile warily and a bit nervously as you extended a hand, in it a Dorsel Fin candy.

He’d smile and accept your gift, you’d breath a sigh of relief and go about your day as usual. At least now you didn’t owe him anything!

Now it became a habit, or a fun little game! Whenever Jade would gift you something, you’d look for something of equal value or better! Something he’d like. You’d attempt to one up him, but it was as if he knew about your game somehow and wasn’t letting you win.

Eventually it started to become something else, he was just... always there now? You'd turn around and almost scream! Because: was he there the whole time?

The worst part? He helped you so much more than half the time you turned around, and he wasn't there, you wished he was. He was making your life harder by not being there!

Here is the thing, you can't just get someone use to having a nice, helpful helping hand who is also attractive and then just take that away! Its inhumane.

You gifted him a terrarium you made yourself.

You didn't know why you did it. Maybe you liked his company and wanted to show your appreciation, maybe it was just because you were fond of him.

It was pretty out of the blue as well. You had been working on it for a week now, it wasn't anything remotely at Jade's own level but it was nice. (It better have been because that hike to gather everything almost killed you.)

Was it worth it? Yes. Seeing his eyes widen slightly before he regained his composure was absolutely worth it. He almost had to cough into his hand in Suprise.

Jade wasn't the most expressive, but you had a few ideas of what his Suprise would be look like. "Do you like it?"

"I do perfect. Thank you."

Note: Jade will never confess. It'll be one of those relationships where you don't know how it started but now your married so... Have fun!

Azul:

He was hopeless. Everybody knew this simple fact, except of course: you.

He was a businessman, not a... romance man!

From the way he'd tug at his tie like it was choking him when you were around, to how flushed he'd get when you even glanced in his direction. This guy was absolutely hopeless.

He actually turned... A very bright red was he turning purple as well? and immediately fixes his posture when you're in the room.

Thankfully, it takes two to tango and you were interested in him as well.

So, yeah, it was up to you to pursue the shady businessman who isn't very shady around you and instead acts like, in his own words, "an idiot."

So, no... he doesn't exactly court you. You court him.

You bring him cool things you find, blabber on about what you like and what you think he would like. He was... very confused and flustered, but happy you were there.

It was only after you took an active role in the relationship that he relaxed slightly and began to play along. Giving gifts back and ranting about the business and some poor unfortunate soul he scammed helped.

As everything began to relax in your guy's relationship. It got too comfortable, well, comfortable wasn't the right word. He was comfortable, you were suffering.

Why wasn't he making a move?! Didn't he like you?

Meanwhile, he was feeling pretty good. Jade and Floyd had gotten to a place where they don't tease him as much about not being able to make a move with you. (He didn't you made all the moves.) And his crush was showering him with attention!

You'd glance at him nervously while you sat at Mostro Lounge. He was counting his contracts. His new ones he had started to reaccumulate.

You physically couldn't hold it back anymore. It had been a week. A whole week of nothing new happening between the two of you. The words fell from your lips fast, like rushing water you tried to hold back but couldn't. It would have always slipped through the cracks in your fingers anyway... So you asked him, the burning question. "I like you. Do you like me...?" You finally blurted out.

"What?" He froze up. His head whipping in your direction he didn't know what to do or say and- he was ruining this wasn't he?

Azul had always been an anxious boy, it helped him- Because despite those anxieties he'd show them. he'd overcome them! He always had. But what do you do exactly when the person your heart has been beating oddly for asked that?

"I- um..." was all you needed before you stood up and left. Trying to fight back the small burn that began in your eyes before you cried. "Wait!" He called out but you had been out the door far too soon to even remotely hear him.

It was... a whole thing. He hated it, you hated it, and despite him refusing to admit it, you both cried over it. You always did love the classic miscommunication trope. But it happened. And frankly, you' prefer it this way in the long run. Because when everything was cleared up...

You got to kiss the octopus boy!

A smile on your face when you pulled away, he stared at you slightly shocked but very happy.

In a side note, after you kissed him, he wondered around aimlessly for a good while before he broke out of whatever spell you put him under. (You're still the magicless perfect of ramshackle...)

___________

Note: Floyd is my favorite. I hope you could tell lol Do I adore Azul? Yes! Was he the last one I wrote so it was kind of rushed and not very long? Also yes... I tried to make it a bit special-er?