#but yeah I have a teenage boy going through it and I am so good at getting a student to a place where I don’t have to use disciplinary

[saintvainglorious]

Fics I Enjoyed in January - DC Comics Fic Rec List Part 2

I am still neck-deep in DC fandom this month and the fics have been so so good. Unlike last time, I am too tired to write mini summaries/reviews, so I'm going to feature my favorite quote from each fic instead.

My first DC Comics fic rec list is here!

Floor Plans by @oh-mother-of-darkness (Teen & Up, 1k, 2016) “I really didn’t want to die,” he finished. “I was kind of hoping if I laid here long enough, I would remember what that felt like.”

Losing two brothers in six months takes an emotional toll.

almost right by @bitimdrake (Teen & Up, 3k, 2020) He desperately wishes that he didn’t know what Dick’s cheekbone feels like under a gauntleted fist.

Bruce sucks in a breath, hand raising to fix the cowl. Dick flinches back.

but more with love by @danishsweethearts (Teen & Up, 3k, 2022) Dick wakes up one morning, groggy from a dream that he thinks might’ve been about the circus and also about his favourite car and also about how lonely he is, and realizes that he can’t remember what his mother’s voice sounds like anymore.

O Robin, Robin, wherefore art thou Robin?

The Mechanics of a Hug by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 4k, 2017) “You know… that crushing sense of depression? Like,” Dick chews his lip. “It’s. A physical weight. Makes it hard to breathe?” “Yeah,” Tim says, soft. He smiles, wryly. “I sort of hoped you didn’t, though.”

“So,” Tim ventures. “It's… what, a cuddle pollen?” Bruce just shrugs. “Something like that.”

No Pain, All Gain by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 1k, 2020) Tim’s eyes go even wider. “You stole my organs?” “Technically,” Jason chimes in, “the doctors stole your organs. We just gave them permission.”

Bruce checks Tim’s IV. “Are you in any pain? Do you need more morphine?” Tim’s pupils are so wide that only the faintest ring of blue can be seen. He watches Bruce the way a five-year-old watches cartoons. “I’m all good, B-dog. All Gucci, like we cool teens say." His words are slurred almost beyond recognition, but Tim doesn’t seem to notice or care. "I could fight Superman right now.”

The Wind Sits in the Shoulder of Your Sail by @birdchildsnest (Teen & Up, 7k, 2020) “Oh my god. Bruce. I can’t even tell if you’re serious. When everybody finally eats the rich—they’re going to eat you first.”

At least, back then, Tim had barely been a teenager. He could almost forgive his own volatility. And he��d been smart enough (scared enough?) not to tell Jack that he didn’t need him. What was his excuse now? Bruce was his dad (at least, in the legal sense), but (surprise, surprise) it turned out that Tim wasn’t any better at being a son. Or Tim and Bruce still have some things to sort through after the adoption.

I Left My Conscience On Your Front Doorstep by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 21k, 2022) He doesn’t want to be loved if being loved is like this.

"I think I'm leaving," Dick whispers. "I think I'm not coming back."

bad boys bad boys (whatcha gonna do) ♫ by @drakefeathers (Teen & Up, 20k, 2014) "They live their lives thinking they can charge through the city with the right to hurt and kill and destroy as many lives as they want. And they do it all without a shred of remorse." “But—” Damian begins, brow furrowed in confusion. “Isn’t that like you?”

a Jason and Damian as Batman and Robin AU!! featuring a bunch of graffiti, a rival dynamic duo, and Cat Jason (a cat named Jason).

The Biggest Mistake by @oh-mother-of-darkness (General Audiences, 1k, 2016) “I could ground him anyway, if it would make you feel better.” “He only said it because I called him ‘a garbage can so ineffective it actually became garbage.’”

"You know what really needs to be addressed? Bruce's truly terrible treatment of Damian." -Me, on a daily basis

been a number and a name by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 35k, 2023) “Turns out if you just say ‘spacetime’ until people’s eyes glaze over they don’t really question anything you say. Also, somehow nobody expects me to be able to actually do enough math to explain it.”

On a field trip, Robin has a close encounter with the newest super in Metropolis, only to discover the hard way that Superboy secretly works for Lex Luthor. They agree to work together on a plan to free Superboy from Luthor’s hold, but Robin isn’t sure how far he can trust him—and his developing feelings only make things more complicated.

clean it like you mean it by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 70k, 2024) "Wait, ugh, you're not my dead dad, right? If I'm getting a dying vision of my dead dad I want a do-over because he suuuuucked."

When Gotham's crooks have to scrub down their lairs, who do they call? Jason Todd, Gotham's first and only underworld crime scene cleaning specialist. He's spent his life dodging the Bat, but after a chance encounter he saves Robin's life. Tim Drake finds himself drawn to the conflicted rogue, and soon Jason becomes Robin's street informant. But they can only stay on opposite sides of the law for so long before something breaks.

3:16 by @wufflesvetinari (Teen & Up, 70k (WIP), 2023) “Try to decouple one thing from the other. I’m proud of you, but ice cream isn’t my grand statement about whether you’ve been good or bad today. Good things are good. Happiness is precious. Sometimes you just want caramel chocolate chip.”

The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” (With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.)

wolf-king of rome by @mysterycitrus (Not Rated, 25k, 2024) “You go after Joker, but you don’t kill him, because it’s not about the Joker dying, it’s about Bruce breaking his code for you. It’s about Bruce loving you enough to change himself for the worse. It’s about your idea of grieving.”

Jason doesn’t fear Dick Grayson. Fear itself has changed shape for him, since his return from the Pit - it tastes of dirt in his mouth, of drowning, of fire and blood and laughter, more than a tangible face. Still, he’d be stupid not to be cautious. Dick liked playing on an uneven field, and would do anything to keep him off balance, so he just had to stay focused. That’s the nature of the armistice, both waiting for the other to make a move. It’s like balancing on the head of a pin.

Declensions by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 13k, 2018) “Do not tell them your name. Do as I did to survive. I lied. I have always lied. Make one up. Do not let them have you. Say your name is…is…is…Richard Grayson. Or something. They are going to steal you; do not give them anything to steal.”

“My father,” Dick says, “worked the rope. It cut him. His hands were never clean.”

Passiontide by @bigdvmnhero (Teen & Up, 5k, 2025) Despite its faults, the day had tried to be good. He felt young, like someone's son.

On the 96th day Bruce didn't call, Dick remembered their old game. Three things he knew: 1) In three months, it would be Dick's death anniversary; 2) Bruce was still missing his check-ins; 3) Here Dick was, persisting. Imagine the things I'd survive, Dick thought distantly, if I loved Bruce less. Or: Agent 37 and his various crises of faith, on Day 277 at Spyral, Day 150, and Day -0.

the time you won your town the race by @silverwhittlingknife (Teen & Up, 4k (WIP), 2022) Tim. Tim is Dick’s. Death sharpens, clarifies these things. Who will receive the body, decide on the funeral, receive condolences, make all the decisions that matter. No one has questioned it, not even Tim’s friends. There’s a terrible clarity about death. If Dick said, let’s burn everything he owned, Alfred would do it.

He doesn’t know exactly what Tim would say. But he knows what Tim would do. Tim dies. Dick doesn’t take death for an answer. A Red Robin 12 AU.

door, opening by @cowboysorceror (Mature, 70k (WIP), 2024) Dick, with the keys to every locked door Jason has ever tried to open, tucked inside the cradle of his skull; all of that, snuffed out like a candle.

It’s barely audible, but he knows what he heard. A short, four-note whistle, chirping down – E, C#, then jumping up to A, F#, a little trill on the finish. He waits a moment, head turned slightly towards the dim shapes of storage containers between him and the ramp, eyes straining against the blackness. Long, stretching seconds. There it is again. His gloved hand, prickling with cold, closes into a fist. It’s a wood thrush. A small North American songbird that doesn’t sing at night, doesn’t live in the city. He knows what it means. It means hold, steady, not yet. It means wait for me, I’m behind you.

[itspileofgoodthings]

sometimes boys (students) will force you to enforce the rules to the strictest measure of the disciplinary law.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Me, scooping myself the most ginormous amount of Neapolitan ice cream you’ve ever seen: “Mmm protein.”

[lovebugism]

I lurvvv ur writing so much and I totes am picking up what your putting you down, Steve picks you up for a date in his truck you’re tryna get to know each other first but the tensions just building and you can’t resist heheheh👀🫣

thank you for requesting :D — eddie and the gang get strangely protective of you when the find out steve's taking you out on a date (loser!reader, implied enemies to lovers | 1.6k)

The sun sets outside of The Palace Arcade. Dustin bursts through the doors and out into the orange-tinted parking lot, headed undoubtedly for Eddie’s rusted van. “I call shotgun!” he shouts to no one in particular, but to you especially. He’s confused and only slightly relieved when you don’t race him for it.

“You can have it,” you say with a roll of your eyes, pausing on the curb and crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie pauses mid-stride. His wild curls sway around his face when he spins to glare at you, dark eyes narrowed in an accusatory squint. It’s unlike you not to challenge Dustin for the front seat, just like it’s unlike you to dress as nicely as you are now — all pretty and made-up for a day at the arcade.

“You’re not coming?” he asks.

“No,” you shrug, pretending to be cool about the whole thing. “I told you, Steve’s picking up—”

“You didn’t tell me that,” he interjects. 

“That’s weird,” you scoff an awkward laugh. “I coulda sworn I said something earlier—”

He takes one slow step towards you, glancing up and down your form with a suspicious gaze. “What’s going on? Are you lying to me?” he rambles. “Wait— You’re not staying late to try and beat my Robotron top score, are you?”

“No!” you blurt, half-offended by the accusation. “You’re literally the only person who cares about that stupid game, anyway.”

“Then what?”

“Steve’s coming to get me because…” you trail off, speaking in hesitant murmurs as your friends crowd behind Eddie. You swallow hard and lift your chin, feigning an air of confidence. “Because we have a date.”

“You have a what now?” Lucas wonders aloud, voice a few octaves higher than normal.

“Eugh!” Eddie groans, much louder than probably necessary.

“It’s not a big deal!” you shout back.

“You guys are gross,” Dustin grouses.

“It’s one stupid date!”

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs emotionlessly. “But one stupid date turns into one stupid year together. Which turns into one stupid marriage and having stupid babies—”

“You sound jealous,” you laugh.

“…Of you or Steve?”

“Either.”

“Doesn’t matter— It’s still disgusting,” he concludes, face screwed with horror. “Now whenever I see you guys, which is practically all the fuckin’ time, all I’m gonna be able to think about is you and Steve boning each other.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a pervert,” a familiar voice quips from a distance. 

Your heads whip in sync to find Steve sauntering down the sidewalk with his hands in the front pocket of his creased slacks. He’s wearing his good khakis, and the nice sweater his mom got him for his birthday. An angel, fallen from the heavens, now landed in your lap.

Eddie scowls while the brunette boy flashes you a lopsided smile. “Ready to go?” he asks you, despite the number of curious leers from the surrounding teenagers.

They’ll probably never get used to King Steve having a thing for a weirdo like you. 

You won’t either.

“Yes, please,” you lilt quietly and take the hand he extends towards you. His palm is warm and softly calloused under your touch, almost the exact feeling of velvet.

He leads you a few spots down to where his truck sits idling. Eddie calls behind you, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, alright? Actually, no— Don’t do anything I would do.”

You smile over your shoulder. “Whatever, Eds."

“And don’t keep her out too late, either, or I’ll call the Chief,” Dustin shouts, rushing to the two of you when you disappear between Steve’s pick-up and a rusted Chevy. He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, trying hard to be intimidating despite his oh, so pinchable cheeks. “And, trust me, I’ll know.”

He leaves out the part where you live across the street from each other.

You nearly say something about his empty threats until Steve beats you to the punch. “I’ll have her home by midnight, Dusty-Bun,” he cajoles over his shoulder, opening the squeaking passenger-side door for you.

You giggle to yourself and duck inside. 

The pleather interior is still smooth, with little to no signs of weathering. And everything in it smells like Steve — his cologne, his hair gel; the cigs he smokes, the gum he chews to cover it up. It’s a sweet sort of musk that makes your head swim.

“Don’t call me that!” you hear Dustin gripe when the driver’s side door opens and closes again.

Steve puts the keys in the ignition. The engine roars to life. Wham! plays softly on the radio. He sends Dustin a measly wave as he backs out of the parking lot. The boy flashes him his middle finger in return.

“Sorry about them,” you murmur, sliding the seatbelt over your chest.

Steve laughs. “You say that like I don’t know ‘em.”

“Still. They’re total freaks. I feel like I should apologize.”

“Nah, don’t— don’t worry about it,” he stammers, suddenly very hyperaware of the song playing on the radio. Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. A sickly sweet pop beat that he can hardly stand, so he figures you must despise it.

His hands grow clammy on the steering wheel, and he readjusts his grip. “Uh, you can put a tape in the deck. You know. If you want to or whatever.”

You take the opportunity to fish through his belongings with perhaps more swiftness than you mean to. He motions to the glove box, and you lift the handle to open it. Right on top of the unorganized cassettes sits a tube of lipstick — a tiny golden thing with a ring of familiar maroon at the bottom.

“Wow. This is a really pretty shade, Steve Harrington,” you croon. “I bet it really brings out your eyes.”

Steve’s gaze flits from the road, to the lipstick in your hand, and back again. His face floods with horror, and your grin widens. “That’s— That’s Robin’s. I swear. She leaves her shit in here all the time, it’s so annoying—”

“I’m just messin’ with you, Stevie,” you giggle.

You keep the lipstick in your lap while you rummage through the tapes. Plastic clatters together under your fingertips before you ultimately settle on a David Bowie cassette. Modern Love plays softly through the speakers. You smile to yourself when Steve taps his anxious fingers against the steering wheel to the beat.

He clears his throat. “I, uh— I didn’t wanna say anything earlier, you know, with Eddie and everyone around, ‘cause they’re total drama queens, but, uh… You look really pretty tonight.”

You slouch in your seat, trying and failing to hide your smile. “Just tonight?” you tease.

“Every night,” he corrects.

“Well, you look really pretty tonight, too, Stevie.”

Your eyes narrow in a playful squint. Steve’s cheeks flush a faint pink color. He rolls his eyes and turns away. “Stop flirting with me,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“You started it!”

“No, I was being sincere. You’re just trying to get in my pants.”

“Oh, am I?” you lilt.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, why does that have to be such a bad thing, huh?”

Steve glances at you for a moment. The amber streetlamps whip by every few seconds, casting flitting shadows over his statuesque face. “…You’re doing it again,” he mumbles.

“Sorry,” you say, though the way you look at him says otherwise. 

You sit up straighter and flip down the truck’s visor. A sliver of your eyes shows in the small mirror there. You slide the top of the lipstick off with a soft click. 

“Think Robin will mind if I use this?” you ask him, already twisting at the bottom of it.

“I think Robin forgot it existed the second she left it in here,” Steve scoffs.

You smear the muted rogue over your bottom lip, then rub your mouth together to disperse the satin onto your top one. It feels strange there, like a heavy swathe of powdery silk.

The last time you wore lipstick was senior prom, you think — and even then, you'd wiped it off as you snuck into the Hellfire classroom to finish Gareth’s D&D campaign.

It feels foreign on your lips now, but a good kind of foreign, as you turn in the leather seat to face Steve better.

The mischievous look in your eye makes him cower slightly. It makes his heart skip a beat, too, but he cowers nonetheless. “What are you doing?” he wonders without taking his eyes off the road.

“Nothin’,” you lilt, cupping his left cheek in your right hand. “Just focus on the road.”

His breath catches when your lips press to his jaw, lingering there to stamp the shape of your mouth onto his skin. He tries hard to focus on the road, but he gets quickly drunk on the feeling of you — on the warm hand on his face, on the soft plush of your lips, and on the perfume spritzed on your neck he can smell from here.

He has to remind himself to breathe while your mouth kisses wherever it can reach — his chin, his cheek, his temple, his forehead.

The entire right side of his face is soon marked with your lipstick stain. It makes him feel slightly unbalanced. He needs you to do the same to his left side, too, so he can feel whole again.

“What was that for?” he wonders aloud, breathing heavily for a reason he can’t name, as you settle back in the seat beside him.

“For bein’ so pretty,” you shrug.

“You know I can’t go into Enzo’s looking like this, right?” he laughs.

“Well, maybe we don’t have to go to Enzo’s at all. Maybe we could go somewhere a little more… private.” 

Steve’s eyes flit to you once, then linger on your face for longer than he means to. Your lipstick has smudged softly from where you’d kissed him so ardently. Your mouth is slightly swollen from it, too, as it curls into a mischievous grin. He shakes his head and turns away before he can drown in your eyes.

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “Lover’s Lake it is…”

[theemporium]

[1.7k] they want to believe jack when he says he has a girlfriend. they really do. it's just kind of hard to do so when they never see her. or, in which everyone is worried jack has found himself in a parasocial relationship.

.

“Fuck.” 

Jack raised his head, finding his attention drawn to his captain sitting on the aisle across from him on the bus. He watched as the man began patting himself down before he let out a sigh, standing up to reach for his bag on the overhead shelf. Yet, whatever he was trying to find was a fruitless endeavour as he settled back in his seat with a frown on his face.

“You good?” 

“Hm,” Nico hummed, letting out another long breath as he leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, I just forgot my headphones.”

“Nico Hischier not being organised?” Jack teased, a smile growing on his face. “Someone alert the authorities.”

Nico huffed out a laugh. “Ha. Ha. Ha.” 

“Just messin’ with you, cap,” Jack mused, deciding to be the better person and not point out the fact he could see Nico’s dimple even if the boy tried to act like he wasn’t laughing. “Here, I’ll share my music with you. Because I’m nice like that.”

The older boy raised his brows. “Your music for the full five hour drive?”

Jack raised his brows in return. “Do you have anything else better to do?”

“Fair enough,” Nico murmured before he reached over, taking the airpod and slipping it into his ear. “But I get to add some songs too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack waved him off before handing over his phone. “Maybe try more English rap songs so I can understand them too, yeah?” 

“Sure, because I’m nice like that,” Nico said with a grin before he turned to shift his attention to Jack’s phone. He clicked on the queue, his brows furrowing slightly when he saw the songs lined up. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Nico murmured. “I just thought you were a country music kind of guy. Never thought you’d be into the rock scene.”

Jack’s cheeks burned as he let out a slightly strained laugh. “I was, uh, broadening my horizons.”

Nico turned to look at him. “So you chose one band? You know, I know a couple of bands if you want them—”

“I’m fine with that band,” Jack said, flashing his captain a smile. 

“You’ve liked every one of their songs.”

“Mhm.”

“So, you know you like the genre, at least. Maybe you should try—”

“I’m good.”

“Jack—”

“Start queuing songs before I take my phone back, Hisch.”

Nico stared at him for a few moments, noting the way he fidgeted in his seat with his cheeks flushed far brighter than they should be with the bus AC blasting. But, Nico decided he would be nice this time around and not bring it up.

Not yet, at least.

Plus the band Jack had chosen was pretty good, if he did say so himself.

...

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yourusername ready to rock north america❤️🖤

view all 13,738 comments

user i am going to the nashville show!!!

user she is THE moment

user omg i can't believe the tour has already started

user BKEWBFJBWEKFBKWEJBF

jackhughes congrats on the tour!! ur gonna kill it!!❤️‍🔥

user JACK HUGHES????

user who the fuck is jack hughes?

...

“What are you giggling at?”

“I’m not giggling at anything.” 

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You literally giggled as you said that.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Unfortunately for Luke, this had been a recurring conversation over the last few weeks because, despite what he said, Jack spent the better part of his free time giggling at his phone. It was sickening and annoying and Luke was so done with trying to scroll through TikTok with his brother snickering like some teenage girl in the background. 

It was starting to grate on his last nerve.

“You’re so full of shit,” Luke grumbled as he shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, narrowing his eyes on his big brother from over the kitchen counter. 

“Maybe you should find someone to text and stop bothering me,” Jack retorted, the words slipping past his lips so casually, almost like he hadn’t realised what he said. 

But Luke heard loud and clear.

He straightened up in his seat, his annoyance now replaced with curiosity and he flashed his brother an inquisitive look. “Who are you messaging that has you giggling?” 

“I am not giggling,” Jack huffed out before he lifted his head, finally looking away from his phone screen to catch his brother’s gaze. “And, for your information, I am texting my girlfriend.” 

A few moments of silence passed as both boys stared at each other.

Luke blinked. “When the fuck did you get a girlfriend?” 

“It’s new,” Jack said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. 

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “How new?” 

“Just a couple of months or so,” Jack murmured, at least having the guts to look a little sheepish as a light blush spread across his cheeks. 

“Months?!” Luke repeated with a scoff, the bowl of cereal he was snacking on now long forgotten. “How come this is the first time I’m hearing of it?” 

“We are keeping things private!” Jack defended. 

“I’m your brother!” Luke retorted. “You’re meant to tell me shit. I’d tell you if I had a girlfriend! Quinn would tell me if he had a girlfriend!” 

“But neither of you do,” he snapped back with a shit-eating grin. 

“And you supposedly do,” Luke muttered, shaking his head. “What’s her name?” 

“That’s not important.”

Luke blinked. “Uh, yeah, dude, I think it is.” 

Jack shrugged again. “Maybe I don’t want you to know.” 

“Why not?” Luke questioned, watching his brother just shrug again—not that he was getting fucking sick of that or anything—before he glared. “Is it someone I know?” 

“Maybe.” 

“You’re being ridiculously vague right now and it’s annoying as fuck,” Luke told him. 

Jack’s grin widened. “I know!” 

“Fine, keep your stupid secrets,” Luke grumbled as he reached for his spoon again, rolling his eyes when he heard Jack laughing. “Like I fucking care anyways.” 

But he did. 

He really fucking did and he would find out who this secret girlfriend was if it’s the last thing he did. 

...

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yourusername las vegas, you ALWAYS make me feel at home❤️🖤

view 12,930 comments

user MOTHER!!!

user hot AND talented. your fav could never

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jackhughes ur so pretty😍😍😍

user not this guy again

user not a man

notzegrasipromise JACK???

...

...

“Yeah, I mean, I love my parents but I wish my girlfriend could’ve made it out. It would have been nice to have her here for the family skate too.” 

That was all it took for the hustling and bustling of the locker room to come to a screeching halt. 

Jack frowned, his hands holding his jersey in his hand that he had just taken off as he glanced around the room. All of the boys were giving him different looks: some concerned, some amused, some confused. It was throwing him off. 

“Uh, what?” 

“You have a girlfriend?” It was Dawson who eventually asked, his brows furrowed together in questioning.

“Yeah,” Jack nodded, feeling an odd sense of deja vu from the conversation he had with Luke a few weeks ago. “Geez, I didn’t realise we had to announce stuff like this now.”

“I mean,” Jesper spoke up, shrugging his shoulders. “We’re close, yeah? We usually just tell each other these things. You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“Don’t bother asking for her name,” Luke grumbled from the other side of the locker room.

“She’s not coming to the family skate?” Nico questioned, focusing the attention back to Jack who simply shrugged.

“She travels a bunch for work,” Jack explained. “Or, at least, for right now. She’s out in Nashville right now so she couldn’t make it.”

“But I thought you were all over that rockstar girl,” Simon spoke up from his stall, leaning back against the cubby, half dressed and legs spread. “Every time I open Twitter, I see it.”

Jack’s cheeks burned. 

Jesper gave him a disapproving look. “Don’t tell me you’ve been commenting on another girl’s instagram when you have a girlfriend. What does she think about it?”

“She likes them!” Jack defended. 

Jesper frowned. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of desperate on instagram,” Simon continued with a snort.

“Well, she hasn’t told me to stop,” Jack huffed.

“Yes, because a rockstar with a couple of million followers would personally reach out to stop you,” Luke drawled, a heavy layer of sarcasm dripping from his words.

“She would, considering she is my girlfriend.”

Once again, the locker room fell silent.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” Luke eventually spoke up, shaking his head. “You really think we believe that you pulled her?” 

Jack frowned. “What’s so hard to believe about that?”

“She’s an international rockstar and you’re just a dude who plays hockey,” Luke retorted. 

“So are you!” 

“Yeah, and I’m not sitting here trying to tell people I’m dating Taylor Swift, am I?”

“This is different,” Jack huffed before looking around the room. “I’m dating her! I really am! We met at that rock bar in Jersey City a couple of months ago and we’ve been chatting ever since.”

The boys all gave each other various looks.

“Fine, don’t believe,” Jack grumbled as he leaned down to start untying his skates. “I know I’m telling the truth. It’s not my fault you don’t believe me.”

For the record, only Jim and Ellen Hughes showed up to the New Jersey Devils’ family skate. 

...

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yourusername east coast, we are coming for you!!❤️🖤

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user i cannot believe the tour is almost over

user NEW MUSIC WHEN

user i'm seeing you in eight days!!!!

user oh my god she is so hot

jackhughes coming back to the better coast❤️🖤

user omg he is copying the hearts too

user he is delusional

user it is the devils colours

user you sound just as delusional as him

...

“So, I’ve been talking to Luke.” 

“Oh great,” Jack grumbled as he sunk further into the pillows of the living room couch.

“And I went on Twitter.”

“You must have been pretty bored to redownload it,” Jack commented, suddenly finding interest in the strings of his hoodie, instead of his brother’s face on the phone screen. He should have known it was odd when Quinn messaged to check he was home alone before he called.

“Jack.” 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jack whined as he tried to hide himself deeper into his hoodie. “Whatever Luke told you is bullshit.”

“So you’re not telling people you’re dating an international rock sensation?” 

“Well, I’m not telling everyone,” Jack corrected. “But I am dating her!”

“Uh huh.”

“Not you too,” Jack groaned, throwing his head back and finding his gaze locked on some random part of the ceiling. “Quinn, why would I lie about this?” 

“Because you took a rough hit to the head.”

His head quickly snapped down to glare at his older brother who had the audacity to smirk in response. 

“We’re just worried, Jack. You don’t mention a single thing about talking to her. Then you’re showing up in her comments. And then you’re claiming to date her. All whilst playing and training like normal.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine if you have a little crush or something but—”

“She isn’t just a crush, she’s my girlfriend,” Jack repeated for the umpteenth time. “You’ll see soon.”

Quinn didn’t look awfully convinced  but he knew better than to push Jack on the matter any further. He instead shifted the conversation to a power play from the game before and, thankfully, Jack took the bait. In fact, he was far too busy rambling to even notice Quinn typing out a message straight to Luke. 

quinnifer: ur right 

quinnifer: he’s a fucking lost cause

...

liked by jackhughes and 983,373 others

yourusername tour was a dream but happy to finally come home to you jackhughes ❤️🖤

view all 37,373 comments

jackhughes glad to have my girl home❤️🖤

user WHAT

user a hard launch post tour??? oh she is sick

user i can't believe we lost her to a man

user IS THIS NOT THE HOCKEY DUDE

user omg he actually stood a chance

trevorzegras WHAT THE FUCK

trevorzegras WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

user omg one sings rock and the other plays at the rock

user IT WAS WRITTEN IN THE STARS

lhughes_06 holy shit

_quinnhughes didn't see that one coming

trevorzegras HOW WHAT WHEN WHERE WHY

user i think hockey dude broke his hockey friend

jackhughes he will be fine

trevorzegras NO HE WILL NOT BE FINE

trevorzegras ANSWER YOUR PHONE ROWDY

jackhughes leave me alone, i'm trying to spend time with my girlfriend

yourusername it's true :) very little clothes included

trevorzegras i'm going to go throw myself off a cliff

user what the fuck did i just wake up to

.

[jinxificada]

something to relax

dealer!jinx x fem!reader

summary: you deserve a rest, so you turn to the infamous jinx for help.

notes: nsfw, modern au, wc 4k !! inaccurate drug dealing.

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺

"i'm telling you, you're insanely overworking yourself. i don't even understand where'd you get all the time to do everything you do." your friend scolds you jokingly, though you can tell she's honestly worried for you.

"nonsense." you roll your eyes in denial, "i'm alright, we take the same classes."

"i'm not in any club doing extracurricular stuff, nor am i tutoring any dumb kid." she discusses, walking with you through the crowded hallway towards your next class.

"well i don't really have a choice, it's for the-"

"the scholarship, i know." she sighs, finally arriving. "just... please take a moment to relax."

you both take your seats almost in the middle of the classroom, by the windows. she always sat in front of you, so she would turn around and chat whenever she wanted without you being able to ignore her.

"what about we go to that party on saturday?" she proposes and you already bite your lip with an hesitant expression, "please! we don't have to stay the whole time, just an hour or two."

"i don't know... i don't have a car and it’ll be too late to take the bus." you poorly excuse, not wanting to fully reject her.

"i can drive you! or you can just stay at mine." she happily resolves and you just nod with a sigh.

it's not that you didn't like hanging out with your friend, nor she's always so insistent. she usually is very understanding and gives you space. but the exams were getting close and you needed to higher your grades in a couple of classes, so you've been paying extra attention in classes, speaking with a couple of teachers on how to improve your grades and busying yourself with the usual assignments, the extra assignments, and tutoring this one kid below your year for some extra money.

unlike most of the students here, your family isn't able to properly pay for your education. you've done your previous years in the public school your small town, your teachers were so amazed with your capabilities that they recommended your parents to send you somewhere... better. they all collaborated on writing a recommendation letter for your acceptance. and you got the full scholarship! congrats, now you have to work harder than your classmates in order to keep it.

it wasn't fair, and your friend knew it. she felt so bad that she couldn't help you with money or your studies, but she can help you to ease your mind a bit.

so, you could only frown while making a mental list of all the valuable things you could be doing instead of this, standing in a big kitchen full of intoxicated teenagers. your friend was trying to talk with you while mixing alcohol in disposable cups for each one of you.

"and tomy was sticking his tongue inside of mary's mouth in front of her father, ew! you should've seen their faces when they realized, her father was burning red, i don't know if from embarrasment or anger." she rambled with a loud laugh.

you chuckle, mostly because her laugh was contagious. "who was tomy, again?"

"shh, he's coming." she suddenly leans in to whisper before pulling back wearing her social smile, "tomyy!"

a rather scrawny tall boy comes from behind you saying your friend's name in the same way, "fancy seeing you here!" ah, he had a high pitched voice.

"i didn't want you to miss me!" she quickly jokes, "nice party!"

"i'm guessing you're having a good time." he chuckles. at this point he's set himself right next to you and still hadn't acknoledge you. "have you already found jinx?" he asks curiously with a supposedly mischeavous smile.

"damn, she's here already?"

"yeah, just bought from her in the second garden."

'what the hell is a second garden?' you thought with a weirded out glance.

they chat a bit more and you think you know the kitchen from memory after rolling your eyes around as they talked. the boy soon moves to another guest and your friend turns back to you.

"the funniest thing is that they were sent to the principal's office was for sucking their faces off in the middle of class." she continues the conversation she was having with you as if you've never been interrupted, it was a talent of hers.

'is this what she thinks of a relaxing night...?' you mentally complained. you had your friend talk you ear off 5 days a week, but that didn't seem enough for her. at some point you muted her voice from your head and only listened to the loud pop music and different people talking over each other. your eyes were fixed on the next room through the kitchen's door, the flashing lights barely illuminated the crowd. blondes, brunettes and redheads, they all stay in the background when a blue head pushes through them to your way.

you physically react with a quiet sigh when you can see her face. a pretty girl, with the softest features you've ever seen, decorated with a messy dark makeup and intense eyes. curious to see how her full style looked like your gaze lowers on her body, she was wearing a white laced corset gripping her chest for life and low wasted black denim shorts, along with the biggest boots you've ever seen.

the girl who caught your eye walked into the room with loud, confident steps. people quickle recognized her, some greeted, some lowered their eyes to the floor. she only smiled briefly before grabbing two closed bottles of vodka like she owned the place and left.

"who was that?" you breath out, realizing you've been holding it the whole time.

"jinx," your friend shrugged, "local dealer, mental problems and rich daddy." she summarized, fixing her lipstick and soon changing the topic.

the night ended up being a boomer. your friend got a stoner to share his blunt with you both and that, mixed with the alcohol you had been drinking since the night started, made you both pretty tired and sleepy. luckily, your friend's house was about two streets down from the party, allowing you to arrive sound and safe while intoxicated.

you couldn't deny that you slept like a baby.

but the week started again a day after, along with your responsabilities. and it seemed that it's gonna be a shitty one.

for your extracurricular activity, you had the job to take decent pictures for the school's paper. they were all rejected by the president in charge. you scored a negative B in a practically easy test because you were too distracted noticing that the so named jinx was in the same class as you. 'she looks very pretty in the dark blue uniform.' was your constant thought. and the cherry on top, you didn't have your extra money of the week because the parents of your student were late with the payment.

they were showered in wealth, why won't they give you your 50 dollars? now they’ll have to pay $100 next week.

but for now… you had to survive with the remaining money you had left for the rest of the week. and it was only monday.

you thought you could handle this particularly difficult week, but all this tension build up only to blow up on your face. and the face of the teacher who was telling you why you had to rewrite the essay you just submitted.

you were use to cry over stress, you thought it was a healthy way of letting it out. just not in the public eye.

tears and sobs were comming out of you as you walked down the halls, feeling like millions of eyes were judging you. how embarrasing, right? but that was only your mind playing you, the only person who looked at you twice was tomy who recognized you but couldn't recall from where.

it was friday and the classes already ended, the club was about to start in ten minutes but you were debating whether test your luck and see if it can all get shittier or just call it a day and go home.

but a loud yell of your name from behind you interrupted this final decision, your friend throted her way up to you and worriedly wiped your tears.

"are you okay? what happened?"

"i'm fucked up! i'm gonna fail all my exams and get kicked out from this stupid school!" you dramatically cried in the comfort of your friend's arms. you knew she was fighting demons to not roll her eyes and say 'i told you'.

she listened to your whines for a couple more minutes until she had an idea.

"okay stop, shush." you frowned but stayed quiet anyways, "listen, i know jinx stays in club hours to sell, she must be in that shitty bathroom from the second floor. why don't you go buy some weed and relax this weekend?"

your frown deepened and even a light blush appeared on your wet cheeks, "uhm, i don't know... why don't you just stay at my house to hangout, please?"

"oh hun, i would love to but my parents are taking me to visit my grandma." who lived far far away, you nodded. "just, try what i'm telling you, okay?"

"okay..." you hesitantly say, your friend seemed in a rush because just when you were about to ask her how much it would probably cost and how many grams you should buy, she pecked both of your cheeks in goodbye and left you standing in an almost empty hallway.

you were on your own now, hoping the 15 dollars you had left from this long week would be enough, but you doubted it.

you hesitantly pushed the door of the supposedly shitty bathroom (it didn't have a mirror, nor the renovated cubicle doors the other's had, though it was perfectly functional). welcomed by the sight of jinx sitting on top of the counter sink, ciggarette in hand and an amused smile on her face while she talked with another girl.

they quickly shut up at your presence. you purse your lips awkwardly at them, you were about to greet them when this other girl just scoffed as if you ruined something and leaned to whisper in the bluehaired's ear. jinx only chuckled in what you thought was a very flirty manner and the girl left, leaving you alone with her.

it was a good moment to say something, jinx was looking at you expectantly but you were too busy checking her out.

the school uniform itself is rather conservative, but it was usual for students to fix it to their liking as long as it isn't too inappropiate. jinx seemed to be an exception, because you didn't know how was she allowed to move around with the skirt so short. you weren't complaining, not at all. with the way she crossed her legs you could easily appreciate her pale legs, noticing a few marks and bruises which fed your curiosity.

she cleared her throat, "so? you came all the way here to stare at me?"

"no- no, sorry." you quickly apologized and presented yourself, taking a few steps closer, your voices echoing in the bathroom,

"right… what can i offer you?"

though her words were friendly enough, her tone was playful and given that you had a breakdown just minutes ago, you couldn't help but feel like she was mocking you. she probably was.

"i, uh, i was wondering what's your cheapest relaxing item?" you hesitantly ask, seeing the corner of her lips rising the slightest bit in a smirk.

"are you familiar with drugs?"

"no... not really."

"then i have the perfect discount for you!" jinx smiles brightly and you get even more closer, interested. "weed is ideal for begginers, and i can give you 15g for 100 bucks, whatcha say?"

"oh." you instantly gloom. "and... h-how much for 2 or 3g?"

"3 grams? you can barely make a blunt with that." she mocks raising an eyebrow, studying you for a second before smirking again. it was hard to read her, but you could sense she had something in mind as it seemed rather mischeavous. "for 3g... 20 bucks."

you sighed, looking away in embarrasment. you heard that her prices were high, but this... what did she need so much money for, anyways?

"okay, um... i don't have enough money with me right now. thank you." you sheepeshly said, ready to turn around and go back home to keep crying.

"wait!" she suddenly says, decrossing her legs to shift in her spot, "don't give up so easily... we can arrange something..."

"arrange...?" you repeated, confused. jinx motioned with her fingers to approach her and you did, mantaining a respectable distance before she could reach your arm and pull you even closer, caresing the lenght of it along with your hand. you were stunned, feeling your ears and chest warm up. "how come?" you murmured, trying to grasp on the situation.

"i'm feelin' nice..." she hummed, "i can give you 5g... if you give me head."

"e-excuse me?" that was your first reaction, pulling the hand she was holding away and to your chest, "what...? are you serious?"

"oh don't be such a prude!" she chuckles, giving you a knowing look, "d'ya think i'm dumb? i've seen you staring, i know you want me."

her bluntness made you blush, damn, her mere presence made you blush. she was exposing you while offering her body in change of some weed. you've never been in this kind of situation before, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of something to say.

she kept distracting you though, with that pretty smirk of hers. since you didn't instantly ran away, jinx knew her guess was correct. reaching for your hand again and rounding your hips with her long legs to pull you closer, till your body hit the counter she was sitting on.

"i know you want me." she repeated in a low tone, "and i know you need it, toots." you unconsciously lean into her touch as she caress your cheek, right where the dried tears rested on.

"i don't want to t-take advantage of you..." you dumbly say, jinx almost pouted at how adorable you were. you thought it was you who was taking advantage of this?

"you're not, silly!" she giggled raspily, "this is business."

"i'm- i don't.... i'm not sure..." you rambled, and before you could make a point -if you were ever going to make it-, jinx pulled you into her for a kiss. a hungry, intense kiss.

and you instantly melted, your hands traveled to hug her waist as you reciprocated. she tasted like that ciggarette she was smoking a moment ago, mixed with the flavour of some candy.

you thought it was hot.

her body shifted closer, sitting by the edge of the counter to easily push her hips into you. the heated make-out was interrupted by her own heavy breaths.

"see, toots?" she rasped, "you can do it."

"okay." you hummed, leaning in to kiss her again. it was ridiculous really, how easily you gave in. specially after she dodged your attempt with an evil smirk.

"uh-uh." she pushed you by the shoulders, "i asked you to eat me out."

you almost scoffed in complain, before realizing that maybe… this was even better.

"but i have a condition." jinx called for your attention with an amused chuckle. "you have to make me squirt."

"fuck." you sighed, "really...? are you-?"

"i know i can, yeah." she nods, spreading her legs for you, "but it won't be easy..."

you certainly wouldn't mind trying, you weren't exactly up close to her pussy and you could already feel the smell of her arousal, inviting you to taste her. jinx lifted up her skirt to expose her lingerie, a furious pink with a wet spot on her center that watered your mouth.

soon enough you were kneeling down, it was a bit uncomfortable given the height of the sink. hesitantly, you licked your lips and looked up at her, in search of confirmation. in response, jinx flashed you a playful smile, leaning back to rest her weight on her hands.

satisfied, you concentrated on her pussy, carefully pressing down your thumb as if testing the waters. her hips twitched at the contact, moving towards your hand. you let out a hum, 'sensitive?'. experimentally, you sticked your tongue out to lap over her underwear, the wet spot growing as it mixed with your saliva. you were contently taking things slow, against jinx own desires.

she aggresively gripped your hair to push your head into her pussy, "don't tease me, nerd." she husked.

and you couldn't bring yourself to mind, rushing to move her panties to the side to finally taste her. you wanted to impress her, you wanted her to like you, and give her the best head she'd ever have. your lips hugged her clit, quickly working on her pussy, sucking and lapping. you were rewarded with quiet sighs and trembling legs, occasionally a moan. but it seemed that jinx was trying not to crumble, silencing her sounds by pressing her lips together, though it barely did the job. you didn't mind, not when you were making out with her pussy so fervently.

your hands gripped her plushy thighs as you put them on your shoulders, helping her to stay still. her hips twitched towards you every now and then, when you would suck particularly hard on her throbbing clit. and you? you were having the time of your life.

as busy as you always were, it’s been quite long since you had some fun like this.

jinx looked down at you with furrowed eyebrows and flushed cheeks, meowing softly as she felt herself coming undone at your enthusiastic work on her pussy. her hand pulled at your hair and you opened your eyes to meet hers, but her head was thrown back in pleasure. you didn’t stop, instead you moved your hand to furiously rub her center until she looked at you again, biting her lower lip to muffle her moan. she came against your mouth, rocking her hips lazily against you.

you licked her clean a few times before realizing you didn't accomplished your task, she didn't squirt.

"well well, toots," she said accompanied with a breathless and amused chuckle, "i told you it would be- mhm!" her mocking words were interrupted by your actions, you decided that you'll just try harder.

you went back at it, this time focusing more on her unattended hole. when your tongue explored a little more inside, your nose hit her clit sending shivers through her back as she arched. her initial surprise was overpowered with pleasure, she didn't care anymore about not showing how much she was enjoying herself.

after the previous stimulation, this time she reached her limit much quicker. you really wanted to make her squirt, so you put all your effort on your fingers, which you carefully put inside her. jinx cursed above you, letting you do whatever you wanted with your body as everything felt just so good for her.

and the reward came along her relief, her cum fell all over your lower face, though you shamelessly tried to drink all you could.

"mkay, stop-" jinx whined lowly as you kept your mouth attached to her pussy, against her own words her legs squeezed your head tightly.

you pulled back a few seconds later, wiping your chin with the back of your hand only to smudge all her fluids to your cheek, making her giggle. she motioned at you to get closer, opening the flush of water on the sink by her side.

"thanks." you smiled quietly as she cleaned your face with water, "your thighs..." you pointed out at the wet mess on her inner thighs.

"i know."

jinx took a deep breath before making an effort to get down the counter, barely struggling to make her way inside a cubicle. you shyly stayed put, fixing your hair looking to anywhere else to give her some privacy as she cleaned herself up.

"i didn't know you were that stubborn." the bluehaired girl mocked you, suddenly she was by your side again. this time cornering you.

"you- you asked me to do it."

"yeah..."

there was something so mesmerizing in her blushed cheeks, her darkened blue eyes. your breath got caught in your throat when you felt her slim fingers sneaking under your skirt uniform to playfully pull on the edge of your underwear.

you only looked at her with little hesitance before you tried to lean in and kiss her. she dodge your attempt for the second time, not letting you time to react when she forcefully turned you around, pushing her chest on your back.

"i can give you the 15g, if you let me play a little bit." she whispered against your ear, nibbling at the earring you were wearing, "hmm? will ya let me?"

"yeah," you quickly agreed with a pleading voice, hitching up your own skirt and resting your hand on top of hers while pushing your hips, your movements were hurried and desperate, there was a pulsing desiring waiting to be attended. jinx was overly amused, rubbing your center over your underwear. "yes..." you sighed, throwing your head back to her side, leaving you neck exposed for her to keep her lips busy with.

breathless moans left your mouth, relaxing your body against her touch when loud steps startled you. it was impossible for you to ignore them because there was a chance that someone could caught you both. though jinx didn't seem to care, mindlessly biting your skin.

"did you hear that?" you mumbled, your body tensed in anticipation.

"yeah," she giggled in response, capturing your attention by getting her hands under you panties which got a squeak sound out of you. "imagine if they find us here."

"not funny-" you grumbled, unable to push her away but your eyes fixed on the closed door.

"c'mon baby, must be the janitor. he's not allowed to come here." she reassured, her other hand moving your head to her, kissing your lips messily.

you gave in, sighing into her as she pump her fingers in and out of you. you already felt so stimulated that a few minutes later you were already cumming on her hand. she doesn't stops till you ride out of your high.

jinx loudly pecks your cheek, pulling her fingers out and up to her mouth, sucking off your cum.

"god." your voice trembled at the sight.

she only smirked at you, walking to her bag which was laying on the floor. your eyes were closed while you fixed yourself again, anxious to get home and change your dirty underwear as you can uncomfortably feel the stickness.

when you opened them, jinx left on the counter a small ziploc bag.

"a deal is a deal." she shrugs, "enjoy."

you slowly reached to the bag, a bit conflicted by how the situation was ending.

“i- i’m not even sure i needed it now.”

jinx raised her eyebrows at your murmur, you came to her with those desperate and anxious eyes, only for you to not accept it?

but she knew better, with her signature mischievous smirk she approached you once again, puts the bag in your hands and let her fingers linger a bit more on top of them.

“how about this? take ‘em home, use it tonight and touch yourself thinking ‘bout me.”

your eyes open slightly, and you blush like you didn’t just fuck her a couple of minutes ago. either she always caught you out of guard, or you’re simply not used to being… so vulgar.

“so? will you do that f’me?” she stares at you expectantly with those big blue eyes, amused by your reactions.

“y-yeah, yes i’ll do it.”

“cute.” she sighs, leaning to peck your cheek once again before going to grab her bag and walk towards the exit. “i want proof! text me later!” she chuckles loudly by the door and just as loudly smacks it closed.

[avocado-writing]

i neeeed smth silly with wade and his s/o having a stereotypical teenage girls' sleepover- painting their nails, gossiping about boys (logan) and trying to style wade's wack ass wig.

sigh unfortunately i am in love with The Idiot

Honestly? You’re pretty fucking happy.

Wade is incredibly attentive. A goofball, sure, and the kinda guy to take things a little too far sometimes - but he can always tell when there’s something wrong. You’ve been far too stressed. Work has been getting you down, too much pressure with not enough appreciation, and it just feels like you’re being ground into the dirt by someone’s heel. Your usual enthusiasm when you come home has been ablated and you’ve barely been able to give Wade a smile recently. 

So tonight, when you walk in with gloom heavy around you, you’re pleasantly surprised when the apartment is lit with candles and your favourite album is playing quietly on the stereo. Wade looks up from where he’s judging between two facemasks. 

“Okay, we can go with ‘jasmine tranquillity’ or ‘rose seduction’. I’m feeling ‘rose seduction’, but maybe that’s because sensuality is my middle name. Well, one of my middle names. Wade Winston Sensuality Wilson.”

You put your work bag down and fix him with the smile which can’t help rising over your face. 

“What’s all this?”

“I couldn’t have my pookie ending their week on a bum note. I co-opted the place for ourselves tonight.”

“And Logan doesn’t care? Al?”

“Out drinking and at bridge, respectively. I’ll let you guess which one’s where.”

The image of your gruffest housemate sitting across from three retirees while playing cards makes you snort, and Wade knows he’s got you. 

Now? Now the facemask is smelling the room with soft perfume and you’re swilling your Merlot around in its glass, watching as Wade holds one of your bare feet in his lap and carefully applies red to your nails. There are curlers in your hair but none in his wig, because god knows you refuse to touch that thing any more than you absolutely have to. 

“This wine is nice,” you hum, slightly buzzed from the two glasses you’ve already had.

“It’s not, it was ten dollars, but once you’ve had enough you stop noticing that it tastes like ass,” he replies. Yeah, okay, he’s right. You down the rest of it and lean back against the sofa, watching him work as your vision swims a little. 

“You’re really good at this,” you hum. Wade doesn’t tear his eyes away from where he’s applying varnish in neat, diligent strokes. 

“I can sever a guy’s spine through his first and second lumbar vertebrae from thirty feet away. I’ve got steady hands, babe.” As easily as if he was commenting on the weather he holds up a small tray of press-on decals. “Now, do you want the little apples or the little cherries?”

You snort, gleeful. “Oh my god Wade, did you get those from Claire’s?”

“Yes I did. I went into Claire’s today because I’m confident in my masculinity and it’s a wonderful, joyous place to be.”

“… did Laura go in with you so you wouldn’t feel weird?”

“Yukio. I’m picking the cherries,” he decides with an air of finality. You cradle your woozy head in your arms and sigh, happily. 

“I love you, Wade.”

Finally he looks up, his face melting into a smile. 

“Yeah, I love you too. Now do you wanna watch Definitely, Maybe or Bridget Jones tonight?”

“Bridget Jones. You get weird when we watch the other one.”

“Heh, yeah,” he agrees. 

Taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13

[mattybsgroupie]

— sleepover ★ matt sturniolo

— CONTENTS: established relationship; handjob (m receiving); thigh riding (f); p in v; creampie; mommy kink; sub!matt

— NOTES: i wrote two dom!matt fics in a row i do not recognize myself. back to the sub!matt agenda, somebody has got to do it, i am the chosen one!!! (please it’s a trump meme) this is a silly little one i wrote cuz i’ve been dreaming some weird things these last few days and i’d very much like to fuck matt afterwards. not proofread but hope you enjoy it. always so thankful for every like, comment, reblog and follow, love y’all sm ♡ btw next week i might post a chris request i got idkkk

i woke up out of breath, sweat dripping from my forehead as i tried to calm down. it was a nightmare - a terrible one, where i no longer had matt and no matter how much i’d scream, my voice wouldn’t come out. my phone buzzed, the screen lighting up the ceiling and part of my room. it was 3am.

i reached for the nightstand, first taking a sip of water and then grabbing my cellphone, checking my notifications. i had one missed call from matt and two other messages, which only read “babe, you up?”

i felt as the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders, my chest gradually lowering as i got more relaxed. i smiled and speed dialed the first number on my list.

“why are you awake!” matt picked up in a surprised tone, not really waiting for my answer. “i just texted you, did you feel it coming or something?” he giggled.

“hi, babe” i said, my voice still shaky. “i just woke up, actually”

“what happened?” matt asked me once again, clearly concerned as he heard how i sounded. i gulped and gave a few taps on my chest as i rested my back on the headboard. “what is it, hm? bad dream?”

“uhum” i nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. he knew i’d soon be curled up between the sheets, trying to fall asleep again. “what about you babe? can't sleep?” i asked, already knowing the response.

matt sighed and i could picture him running his fingers through his hair, trying to not upset me “anxious”.

“i’m sorry to hear that, matty” i pouted from the other side of the screen. “do you wanna facetime?” i suggested what we had done plenty of times. we’d be facing each other, talking nonsense until one of us fall asleep - of course, when things didn’t take a turn to either matt’s or my own horniness.

“actually… was thinking about coming over” i smiled, but he couldn’t see it. he always made me feel like a teenage girl, changing the reason of my nervousness to something silly, like him coming over.

“no way, you’re not getting the road right now” i said, playing hard to get.

“what?” matt sounded confused. “why not?!”

“it’s late and i worry about you” i responded. “don’t you have something schedule for tomorrow?”

“i don’t give a fuck” matt said, “i wanna be with you right now, do you wanna be with me?” i nodded and as if he could see me from there, he continued. “please, mommy?”

“i’m waiting!” i jokingly hang up on him after gasping by the nickname, as if it was too bold of him to call me that.

i heard three knocks on my bedroom door and didn’t bother getting up. i rolled myself on the bed, waiting for him to join me.

“did i take too long?” matt asked, biggest smile on his face. he locked the door and quickly came next to me, lying down by my side.

“yeah, you know mommy doesn’t like to wait” matt widened his eyes, gulping at my words, realizing what he had done over the phone.

“i just said that so you could let me come over” he said, acting tough as he rolled his eyes before resting his head above my chest, snuggling into me.

“oh, that’s too bad” i pouted, my fingers running through his hair. “you got me all worked up…”

matt quickly raised his head, blue eyes staring at me in surprise, grin growing on his face. “did i? really?”

“of course, my good boy always gets me going” i teased, matt’s cheeks turning red. “why? you came here to sleep?”

“i mean” he started, grabbing my waist, turning my body over and changing our positions. he was now under me, his hands resting on my hips while i adjusted myself in order to get comfortable on his lap. “not anymore”.

matt leaned in for a kiss, holding the back of my head and bringing us closer. i could feel his beard slightly tickling my face as he deepened the pressure of his lips against mine, silently asking to go further by sticking his tongue and teasing me. i opened my mouth and matt’s tongue quickly slid in, the wet sounds taking over my darkened room.

one of matt's hand moved to my breasts, massaging it over the shirt. i gasped for the sudden contact, pulling away from the kiss, which led him to go to my neck instead. he trailed his lips down, altering between biting and licking my skin. my hands went to his hair once again, tangling my fingers on his curls.

matt lowered his head and stopped right above my nipple before looking at me with needy puppy eyes. i nodded vigorously, but instead of removing my shirt, matt hid his face underneath it, streching the cloth in order to fit inside. i felt his wet tongue teasing my nub and since i could no longer pull his hair, i rested my hands on his bare thighs. as matt started to swril his tongue, i threw my head back and couldn't help but start to move my hips forward, trying to get some friction to my already wet pussy.

i let out a moan when his free went to my other boob, his thumb circling the hardened nub that poked through the shirt. i wanted to look at him - wanted to see how his beard looked like rubbing against my skin, which color the hickeys he left would be, how much would the saliva run down my torso.

with my eyes closed and feeling matt sucking my tits, i tried to touch the hem of my shirt in order to remove it, i couldn't stand one more second without looking at his eyes again - however, my palm met something harder, covered by a soft fabric. i groped his shaft and received a muffled moan from matt, still busy in my tits. now with my eyes open i could finally take my clothes off, revealing matt with his messy hair, beard wet from rubbing his face against his own kisses, lips swollen.

“look at me baby” i called and carressed his cheek, “you said you wanted to sleepover and now look at you, already a mess for mommy...”

“i'm s-sorry, mommy” he started, “can't help it, you taste so good”.

“yeah? did you miss me?” i teased, starting to drag myself over his thigh once again. “we saw each other two days ago”

“it's too much” matt complained, hands going to my hips, helping me set a proper pace. “needy again”, he glanced at tent on his shorts, where my palm rested.

“is mommy's baby needy?” i almost mocked him and he nodded pathetically, but still not letting me take full control as he started to pump his legs' muscles, making my pussy clench. i opened my mouth, but nothing came out of it. matt's grip tighetned and he forced my body down, completely leading my movements.

“mommy seems needy as well” matt spoke, smashing his lips against mine. i let out a frustrated whine, wanting to feel more - i needed him inside of me. “aren't you?”

“yes- fuck” i said, trying to come back to my senses regain control of the situation “babe, be a good boy for me hm?"”

when i finally stroked matt's boner, his hands rapdly went to my ass, both palms groping it harshly as i entered inside his pants. i wrapped my fingers around his aching cock, and being the good boy he was, matt lifted up his hips, allowing me to pull down his shorts and reveal his hardened dick. he touched my waistband in response, silently asking if he could do the same to me. i mimicked his moves, letting the fabric slide down my legs.

“thought i had told you to not wear panties to bed” he said, pulling the strings of my underwear. “isn't mommy supposed to be good as well?” matt was driving me crazy with all the teasing.

i suddenly started to move my fist up and down, quickly jerking him off. matt was used with me starting slow and building up his excitement until he climaxed. but tonight, it didn't seem like he wanted to be treated kindly. matt threw his head back and closed his eyes, groaning loudly “f-fuck!”

i brushed my thumb over his tip, matt’s body immediately reacting, jointing his hips forward into my fist. i dragged my finger on his slit as matt’s nails dig into my skin, spreading the pre-cum down his shaft. his breathing got heavier, chest rising and falling quickly while he bit every inch of skin he could reach.

“not talking back anymore?” i asked, gradually stopping my motions, receiving a groan in response.

“mommy, don’t be mean” he pleaded as his sneaky fingers made their way to my entrance, pulling my panties to the side. he kissed my neck, making my eyes roll as i melted into his touch.

“matthew” i caught his attention since i didn’t really use his full name often. “stopping teasing so fucking much and just fucking say it”. he widened his eyes before letting the grin grow wide on his face.

“please, please, please” he said, “ride me, momma”i immediately got out of his thigh, adjusting myself to be in between his legs. i could feel matt’s cock being lazily dragged against my now bare pussy, panties removed as soon as i got up.

i lowered myself on his shaft, nearing my throbbing cunt to his leaking tip. both of my hands went to matt’s shoulders, looking for balance as his grabbed my hips, helping me fully sit on his length. matt’s dick was huge, stretching my walls as he hid his face on the crook of my neck, tickling beard making me giggle as i tried to adjust myself to his size.

“wasn’t so hard, was it?” i asked, getting comfortable to move my hips up. as i started riding, matt wouldn’t say a word, only muffling moans in my ear. he denied with his head, whining as i fastened my pace.

“c-close” he said, gripping tighter. “mommy- fuck”

“hold for me baby” i spoke, already out of breath, bouncing harder on his dick. matt decided to stick his face on my boobs and dragged his tongue along my skin, biting my nipple and holding me by my waist, jointing his hips forward in order to reach his high quicker.

“yes baby, just like that” i praised, matt now pounding mindlessly into me. “good boy, good boy” and that’s what took for him to snap, groaning loudly as his cock twitched and he released the knot on his lower belly, spurts of his warm cum filling my insides.

his spasms brought me closer to the edge, but i wouldn’t stop riding him. i kept on bouncing on his cock, now in search of my own climax. “mommy- mommy, fuck!” matt cried from the overstimulation. his whimpers got louder and so did my moans as my orgasm washed over me, mouth hanging open with my trembling body as i came over matt’s shaft.

i was too tired to remove myself, letting my weight fall over him. matt rolled us over, both of us laying in my bed. he turned to the side and pulled out, the mix of our realeases running down my legs and staining my sheets. matt let out a chuckle as he wrapped his arms around me, bringing me closer to his chest.

“should we sleep now?” i asked, running my fingers through his tummy.

“kid” he called, pointing to my bedroom widow. “the sun is already up” he spoke - as if this was gonna stop us from sleeping till noon. “but that’s why i came here, right? sleepover”

“of course, you’re always so clever” i rolled my eyes and giggled, allowing my body to relax next to his. i closed my eyes and knew that, while matt was around, the bad dreams would no longer come.

[my-castles-crumbling]

over 30 years old - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 390

"Was my father really as bad as Snape says?"

Harry's question came from seemingly nowhere, as the boy sat by the fire, staring into it contemplatively. He'd been off during Christmas, and this question, though abrupt, wasn't completely unexpected.

Sirius looked over at Remus, who was sitting next to him on the couch, reading a book as Sirius did the crossword. "No, Harry. Snape is biased. You father is- was- an amazing man. So...so kind, and caring, and loving. He just..he showed his worst side to Snape, unfortunately."

"But how do you know?" Harry asked, turning to them both, eyes swimming in tears. "Maybe- maybe he just tricked you, or was a good liar! You said yourself, all people have good and bad in them, maybe he was bad! Maybe I'm-"

But Sirius interrupted, stopping the boy from spiraling. He'd been trying to figure out a way to tell Harry for some time, and now seemed like the moment. "Because your father helped me through a really difficult time in my life, Harry. A time when I thought...I though nobody would love me or accept me. He was there. And he was so kind and supportive."

Harry's eyes shone with curiosity. "What happened?" he asked bluntly, as only a teenager could.

Sirius let out a barking laugh. "I realized I was in love with my best friend. And, shockingly, I was raised to believe that having feelings for another man wasn't okay. When I finally caved and told your father, he talked some sense into me. Told me that my mother was a bitch, and I should go for what I want."

For a moment, Sirius mistook Harry's incredulity for disgust, but then he spoke. "You were in love with my da-?"

"Merlin, no!" Sirius laughed, realizing his mistake. "No. James...James was my brother. No, I was.." he took his hand and hesitantly put it on Remus's knee, "...I am in love with Remus, here." He felt Remus stiffen slightly before he relaxed under Sirius's touch, sending him a small smile.

Harry looked back and forth between them several times, eyebrows furrowed like he was trying to figure out a difficult Potions step, before nodding to himself. "I...yeah. That makes sense."

And both Sirius and Remus burst out laughing. "That's exactly what Prongs said," Sirius choked out between his chuckles.

[prlssprfctn]

It is no secret that Jason Todd has a soft spot for kids. His family knew it for a while, figured by the way he always changed the intonation of his grumbling voice around them, and stopped to help them out with whatever was puzzling their little, chaotic minds.

But it is still so unusual for them to see Jason actually acting soft around random kids.

So, when Dick accidentally walks on Jason and a little crying kid in the alleyway, during the patrol, he... freezes a little. There is something absolutely cute in a way big bad Red Hood kneels in front of the kid, while animatedly telling some stupid, funny story with all sounds effects rolling down his tongue, and big gestures. The kid giggles, gasps, and eventually stops crying, wrapping little arms around "brother's Hood" neck. Jason gets grumpier when he notices Dick staring at them, but that's fine. It is still cute-cute.

The next week, Tim stumbles across Red Hood, distracting a homeless boy scared of explosions by playing with him. When the boy jokingly hits him on the shoulder, Red Hood dramatically falls on the ground, gripping his "wound," and Tim can't help but stifle a laughter along with a boy.

Barbara listens through the comms as Red Hood hums some lullaby to a girl, he saved from Black Mask's goons. Damian catches Red Hood taking off his helmet for a toddler to stop crying at the sight of an unknown big guy around.

But the point stands: Jason always finds a way to protect kids, and that's something they all are used to.

...They just don't expect kids to protect Red Hood.

When Jason gets hit with a fear toxin — again — and Bruce figures out that he mindlessly, in a total state of panic, went to the Crime Alley, Bruce is... alarmed. None of them handle fear toxin well, but Jason has guns on him, and his memories are the worst. He practically sprints to the location Jason's tracker is, and... stops in the tracks.

Jason is here, full in his armour, curled in the dark, dirty alleyway with kids surrounding him. There tenths — maybe more of them — and they are trying to calm shivering and panicked Red Hood down. A little girl pats him on the helmet, and another boy hugs him gently. They all murmur something, debating about what to do, and Bruce needs a good minute to remember why is he even here.

'Hey!' Some kid from the crowd notices him first, instantly frowning. 'Back off from there. Don't touch brother Hood.'

Bruce doesn't know whether he should laugh or cry.

'I... I am here to help,' he softens his voice. 'Don't worry, kiddo. Thanks for keeping him safe, but—'

'Uh-uh,' the girl glares at him under uneven bangs while shaking her finger in the air. 'We don't trust you. Back off.'

...Jesus, surely Bruce remember times when kids were scared of him, but this is the first time they are actually so bold around him. And it is definitely the first time someone stops him from taking care of his own kid.

Kids from this side of town are really built differently.

'I—'

'Hey,' some taller teenager runs towards them, slightly out of breath as he shakes a can in his hand, addresing his next question to other kids: 'I bought his favourite beer. Do you think it is going to help?'

Should he be concerned that kids on the streets know Jason's favourite beer and bought it despite them being... clearly not of the age of drinking? Probably. Is it also a little bit amusing that they think alcohol would help? Yeah.

'I have an antidote,' Bruce clears his throat. 'I just need to inject it, alright? Please, trust me. I am here to help.'

They all exchange questioning glances between each other. Jason is still pretty much out of it, muttering some nonsense under his breath, shaking as a leaf — not crowbar, not again, please — but when a little girl in dress asks him if he wants to see Batman, his eyes clear just for a split second, before he mouths a small, scared Dad.

By the end of the day, when Jason falls asleep, recovering from the toxin, and kids finally seem to trust Batman enough not to hurt their big brother and let them go, Barbara and Dick tease Bruce non-stop about how kids humbled him. Still, Bruce feels a strange softness settling in his chest.

Maybe he wasn't always here to protect Jason. Maybe he still fails to do it sometimes, not knowing what to do with his son, but... at least Jason still has someone in this world, someone so loyal and loving.

So, yeah. Jason Todd is great at defending kids. But so are they.

[arjwrites]

Times You Threatened to Kill Dean Winchester- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A brief account of all the times you wanted to kill a certain hunter.

Warnings: Language, character death, thoughts of suicide, references to sex, threats... A good mix of fluff and angst! Word Count: 2.3k A/N: This one was a labor of love! I have a few other fics in the works as per a few requests I have received, but this one was speaking to me tonight, so I sat down to write it! Please enjoy- in the meantime, your requests are coming soon! <3

-

“Dean Winchester, I could just KILL you!” 

You were extremely familiar with the Winchester boys’ prank wars by now. You had been witness to a few different cycles of this behavior over the many years you had known them- in fact, if someone were to dig through the old cardboard box you kept hidden in the spare room at Bobby’s, they’d probably find a few faded teenage pictures of a bald Sam after Dean snuck Nair into his shampoo, or a sleeping Dean with some sharpie-d enhancements adorning his face. But up until now, you had always kept to the sidelines. Time and time again, you claimed Switzerland to avoid their shenanigans, because it always got way too out of hand.

But today, when you climbed out of bed, still groggy with sleep, stepping into the bathroom of your shared motel room, an entire bucket’s worth of ice water that had been balanced atop the door came crashing down on you. The sensation sent a shockwave through your whole body, and from the noise that escaped your lips, you would’ve thought you had been shot. And to add insult to injury, the bucket itself smacked against your head on its way down. 

So to start your day, you were soaking wet, freezing, pissed off, and nursing a swelling bump atop your head. A blind rage filled your body. You knew it had to have been Dean, it was his turn to retaliate after Sam had messed with the stereo in the Impala so that it only played Barbie Girl. It had been a long, silent ride home after last night’s hunt. 

“Dean Winchester, you are a dead man!” The words came bursting out of you as you stormed your way out of the bathroom.

“What did I- Oh my GOD. That wasn’t for you.” Dean’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. He knew he had fucked up. 

The first thing to go flying across the room was the bucket, which nailed Dean in the chest with an anticlimactic thud. You followed close behind it. At full speed, you sprinted into Dean, knocking him back onto the bed behind him.

“Get off me! You’re soaking wet!” Dean protested, throwing his arms between you two in an effort to shield himself. 

“Yeah, how do you like it?” You weren’t going to back down. 

So that is how you ended up wrestling with Dean. You put up a surprisingly good fight for a lot longer than you expected, able to overpower him via sheer force of will. Once Dean got his bearings, though, he flipped you over, hovering on top of you and pinning you to the bed by your wrists. You held an intense eye contact for a brief moment while you each caught your breath. In doing so, you came to the mutual realization that this was ridiculous. You didn’t know who cracked the smile first, but as Dean’s grew, so did yours, until you were grinning like idiots and erupting into laughter.

“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted you wet and in my bed,” Dean raised his eyebrows and tossed you a sly wink.

“Yup, I’m doing it. I am killing you.” 

-

“Dean I swear to God, if you keep me cooped up in this motel room for one more minute I am going to lose my mind.” 

“Would you relax? Sam and I are almost back at the witch’s house. We’ll gank her, it’ll reverse the spell, you’ll be right as rain.”

“God I hope so. This is driving me up the wall. I will never watch another second of daytime TV after this.” With the press of a button, you hung up the phone and tossed it across the room onto the bed. This was getting seriously old.

While taking on a vengeful spirit case, you and the Winchesters had run into a particularly pesky witch. Long story short, she cast a spell at you, and none of you could figure out what it was. It was driving you crazy, and what was driving you crazier was that the boys had locked you in the motel room for two days while they tracked the witch back down. All around town, all over the area, until they finally caught her trail heading back to her own house. Where they had started.

The problem was, you felt fine. You really didn’t think there was anything wrong with you. You wanted to get out there and help them, do some research, go to the damn grocery store, literally anything. But Sam and Dean had insisted that the safest thing for you to do was to stay behind. We don’t know what she did to you, Y/N. It could be dangerous for you to leave. It’s better if you stay here and do absolutely nothing. It made sense, to an extent, you just weren’t very happy about it. 

After a few hours and several more episodes of the most mind-numbing daytime talk shows you could imagine, you heard the sound of keys jingling and the motel door creeping open. In came Dean, wearing a strange expression on his face. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought it was fear.

“So? Ding dong, the witch is dead, I don’t have to blow my brains out?” You asked, more than ready to be done with the whole fiasco.

“Um.” Dean was avoiding eye contact. His hands slipped into his pocket and he sucked in a long, sharp breath.

“Dean.” 

“So, uh, maybe…” He slipped a hand across his mouth, stalling his words. “Look, you might have to stick around here for one more day. We uh, think she might be in the town over, but we kind of lost her trail.”

On the car ride back to the motel, Dean had prepared for you to react by yelling, screaming, hitting, anything to unleash the anger he knew was coming. In fact, that was why Sam had waited in the car- to give him a little time to break the news. But in front of Dean was something much, much scarier. Your jaw was clenched, your gaze was distant, and your eyes narrowed. You were just… sitting there. The silence lasted for what felt like ages. It was enough to send the man spiraling. Finally, you looked up.

“Dean?” 

“... Yes?”

“You better kill that witch tomorrow before I kill you.”

“Duly noted.”

- 

Losing Sam had been just about the worst thing that could have ever happened to any of you. Watching him fall to his knees after Jake backstabbed him, Dean cradling him as the life finally slipped from his body… It brought you to tears just thinking about it. You had loved Sam like a little brother. But as much as it tore you up inside, his death had happened. So goes the life of a hunter. It was time to let Sam rest. 

Dean, however, had still refused to make peace with the loss of his brother. It had been several days and Sam’s lifeless body was still laying out on a mattress. Dean just couldn’t let go. You and Bobby had begged him to let you lay Sam to rest, but he simply wasn’t having it. Dean was angry, defensive, and hurt, far deeper than you had ever seen. After conferring privately with each other, you and Bobby figured maybe it would be best to give him a little time alone with Sam, for closure’s sake. 

So a day later when Sam Winchester, live and in the flesh, waltzed into the room to thank you and Bobby for patching up his wound without so much as a second thought, your heart dropped like a rock. The feeling that washed over you was worse than any grief you had felt this past week. Of course, it was amazing to have Sam back- it felt like a miracle. But miracles don’t just happen, especially not to Winchesters. And when you looked to Dean, he refused to meet your eyes.

Not wanting to alert Sam of the situation, you made an excuse to get Dean to follow you outside. You trudged as far as you could in silence, you not daring to look in his direction, until you knew you were out of earshot from the house. 

“What did you do, Dean?” Your back was still turned, and your voice was hardly a whisper. You were surprised Dean could hear you at all.

“Y/N-”

“What did you DO? How long did they give you?” The question ripped from your chest, but you weren’t sure you were ready to hear the answer. 

“A year.” 

One year. You dropped to the ground. The gravel dug into your skin, but all your senses were numbed with hurt. You wanted to ask what made him think he could do this- to Bobby, to Sammy, to you? But when you opened your mouth to speak, the ache that resonated through your chest stifled the words.

Dean slid down next to you in silence. He wrapped a single arm around you, and you leaned your head into him. All you could do was cry silent, heavy tears. For what felt like hours, there was nothing you could say. The pit in your stomach swirled back and forth from anger to despair to fear, culminating in a blinding nausea. You looked up at Dean, who simply stared straight ahead. There was a staggering coldness in his eyes that drove the knife further into your core.  

“God damn it Dean Winchester, I could just kill you myself, right now.” 

“You’ll have to get in line, sweetheart.” 

-

If you thought a few days without Sam had been bad, four whole months without Dean was your own personal hell. After Dean’s time was up, you couldn’t bear to be around anyone who reminded you of him. You hadn't spoken to Bobby or Sam or any other hunters- any other people, for that matter. You had practically dug yourself a grave, isolated from the world around you, lost and in the dark. 

This was the worst hurt you had ever felt in your life. Four months later and the wound in your heart was just as fresh as the day it arrived there. Every time it began to heal, one wrong move and it started aching, throbbing, bleeding again. But at this point, the pain was all you had left of Dean. So you let it bleed. 

The knock on the motel room door did nothing to stir you from your place in bed. It had been days, maybe a week, since you had risen for anything but your basic needs. You had called the front desk to extend your stay multiple times, running up a scammed credit card Dean had probably given to you at some point. There was nowhere else for you to go, so you laid down weary roots right here. 

The knock persisted but you remained still. It could’ve been the police, the president, or the pope and you couldn’t have cared any less. Go away. There was a clanging noise followed by the shifting of the lock’s mechanisms. Whoever it was, they were breaking into your room. A few months ago, you would’ve jumped into action, but all of your hunter self-preservation instincts were long gone. Whoever it was could come in and take whatever they wanted and shoot you dead in the process. Maybe they’d be doing you a favor. 

You rolled over in bed as the door creaked open, prepared to lay eyes on whoever was here to bring your demise. However, you were met with the one face that could have coaxed you out of the bed. The face you hadn’t seen in four months. The look in his eyes teemed with love and longing, which made your stomach churn. 

“This is a real sick joke.”

“No, Y/N, it’s-” 

For the first time since before Dean’s death, you snapped into hunter-mode, rising to your feet and snatching holy water and a knife from the bag under your bed in the process. It was a little slow, a little clumsy, and clearly a bit out of practice.

“You know, I was about to let whoever you were come right in and kill me. What reason do I have to stick around anymore? But this- this is just sick.” You laughed- your first laugh in months, and yet nothing was funny. 

“It’s me, Y/N, I-”

“No. I’m going to kill you now.” And you lunged, splashing holy water with one hand and thrusting the knife with the other. 

When Dean caught your hand before the knife could strike him, twisting your arm to defend himself from your lackluster attack, it took you longer than it should have to realize that the holy water hadn’t fazed him. Before it registered, you struggled against his grasp, but months of malnutrition and stagnant muscles had left you weak. You cried out as you fought, before fully dissolving into tears and dropping the knife in a mix of defeat and acceptance. Dean placed two heavy hands on your shoulders as if to ground you back in the moment.

“It’s me. I swear.” The beads of holy water that rolled off his face paralleled the tears that rolled off yours. Your hand reached up to wipe a droplet away- partially out of habit, partially to test that he was real, that he wouldn’t disappear at your touch. He didn’t. Instead, both his hands planted on your face, matching your movement. 

“Oh, Dean.” That was the only way you could express it. Dean. Here, real, standing in front of you, and not a demon. Just pure Dean. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, and it felt like home. He pulled you into a gentle hug, as if he harbored the same fear as you- that you may disappear beneath his very touch. But you were real, and so was he. You wouldn’t disappear, and neither would he. Dean was back, and because of that, you were back too.

“Good thing you didn’t kill me, right?” 

[zhelin-thames]

The night was calm—eerily so, by Amity Park’s usual standards. Danny Fenton, better known to the ghostly underworld as Danny Phantom, leaned against the brick wall of an alley, munching on a cold burger. His patrol had been uneventful for once, and he was planning to call it a night when the sound of footsteps echoed down the street.

Danny didn’t need ghost sense to know someone was watching him. The footsteps were light, precise, and purposeful—not the aimless shuffling of a drunk or the hesitant steps of a passerby. Whoever it was, they were skilled. His eyes flicked toward the shadows, but he kept his posture casual.

And then the kid stepped into the light.

“Train me,” the boy said, his voice even and steady, though his face betrayed a hint of nervousness.

Danny blinked at him. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen, dressed in black from head to toe with a hood shadowing most of his face. But it wasn’t just his age that gave Danny pause. It was the look in his eyes—sharp, cold, and determined. This kid was on a mission.

“No,” Danny replied flatly, taking another bite of his burger. He’d seen this kind of determination before—he’d been this kind of determination before—and he wasn’t about to let this kid follow in his footsteps. The vigilante life wasn’t just dangerous; it was a one-way ticket to pain, loss, and an early grave. Danny had survived by the skin of his teeth, but he wasn’t about to play Russian roulette with someone else’s life.

The kid didn’t flinch. “Train me.”

Danny sighed. “No.”

He turned and began walking away, hoping the kid would get the hint, but of course, he didn’t. The boy followed him like a shadow, his footsteps silent but deliberate.

“Train me.”

Danny stopped and turned to face him. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

The kid shook his head. Danny could respect that kind of persistence, even if it was annoying. Still, there was no way he was getting roped into this.

“Look, kid, I don’t know who you are or what you think you’re doing, but trust me, you don’t want this life.”

“Yes, I do,” the boy said firmly. “I’ve trained for years. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah?” Danny raised an eyebrow. “And what’s your plan when things go sideways? When you’re outnumbered, outgunned, and one mistake away from getting yourself killed? You think martial arts and stubbornness are gonna save you?”

The boy didn’t answer, but his jaw tightened, and Danny could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface. He sighed again, running a hand through his hair.

“Fine,” he said, crossing his arms. “But we’re doing it my way, got it? First rule: what’s your name?”

The boy straightened, his back rigid with pride. “I am Bruce Wayne.”

Danny froze. Wayne. As in the Wayne family. The rich, fancy folks who owned half the buildings in Gotham. He stared at the kid, suddenly understanding why he was so serious—and why he’d probably been trained in martial arts since he could walk.

“Alright, rule number one,” Danny said, recovering quickly. “When you’re in your vigilante identity, you don’t give people your real name. You need to keep your identities separate. Got it?”

Bruce frowned, clearly not understanding the importance of this, but he nodded.

“Good. Now again—what’s your name?”

The boy hesitated, his brows furrowing as he considered the question. Finally, he squared his shoulders and said, “Batman.”

Danny blinked. Then he blinked again. The kid’s tone was serious—so serious that Danny might have actually been intimidated if not for the fact that his voice cracked halfway through the word.

Danny bit his lip, struggling to hold back a laugh. “Alright, Batsy,” he said, the nickname slipping out before he could stop himself. “Rule number two: no vigilante-ing until you’re twenty. Teenage vigilantes get killed. They make dumb mistakes, and trust me, I know. I was a teenage vigilante, and let me tell you, it’s not worth the risk.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “What? No! I need to protect Gotham. I can’t wait four more years to do that!”

It was the first time Danny had heard any real emotion in his voice. The boy’s face softened, just for a moment, and Danny could see the weight of the world pressing down on his narrow shoulders. He wanted to argue, to convince Danny that he was ready, but Danny shook his head.

“Nope,” he said firmly. “You wait until you’re out of the ‘teen’ range, or I don’t train you. End of discussion. And rule number three, which is kind of an extension of rule number one: don’t give out personal information in your vigilante identity. I know you’re sixteen now, and I wasn’t even trying to get that info out of you.”

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line, and a low growl escaped his throat. Danny couldn’t help but think he sounded like a cranky puppy.

“Fine,” Bruce muttered, clearly realizing he wasn’t going to win this argument. But Danny could tell he was already filing everything away, committing the rules to memory. The kid was smart, no doubt about that.

“Good,” Danny said with a grin. “Training starts tomorrow, Baby Bat. Meet me at Nasty Burger. Civvies only.”

Years later, Bruce Wayne stood in the Batcave, his head pounding as he argued with a pint-sized acrobat perched on the Batcomputer.

Bruce opened his mouth to argue, but Danny was already walking away, his laughter echoing down the alley.

“Dick,” Bruce said, his voice low and measured, “you’re not going out there. You’re nine. You wait until you’re twenty, and that’s final.”

Dick Grayson crossed his arms, his small face twisted into a defiant scowl. “But you didn’t wait until you were twenty!”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s different.”

“No, it’s not!”

Bruce groaned. He was starting to understand how Danny must have felt all those years ago.

Meanwhile, in Amity Park, Danny Fenton paused mid-bite of his burger. A strange sensation washed over him—a tingling at the back of his mind that he hadn’t felt in years.

“I don’t know where or why,” Danny muttered, narrowing his eyes at the distance, “but I just know Baby Bat is doing something dumb again. And I don’t like it.”

It had been years since Danny Fenton had reluctantly taken on a certain sixteen-year-old Bruce Wayne as a trainee. The so-called Baby Bat had been stubborn, determined, and relentless in his pursuit of justice—even if Danny had been equally stubborn in making sure the kid didn’t get himself killed before he turned twenty.

Now, years later, Bruce Wayne had turned into Batman—the Batman. The name was spoken in hushed tones across the criminal underworld and was plastered on the news every other week. Danny couldn’t help but feel proud… and maybe a little exasperated.

He’d done his job. Bruce was alive, competent, and running Gotham like a pro. Danny had thought his days of worrying about Baby Bat were long behind him.

But that thought was obliterated the moment Bruce reached out through a very specific secure channel.

Danny leaned back on the couch in his apartment, half-listening to an old horror movie playing in the background while munching on chips. His ghostly senses were quiet, and for once, life was calm.

That’s when the Bat-symbol flashed on his computer screen.

He groaned loudly, almost spilling his chips. “I knew it. I freaking knew it. I should’ve ignored this brat the first time he said ‘Train me.’”

Reluctantly, Danny got up and opened the line. The face staring back at him was unmistakable—Bruce Wayne, older now, with sharper angles and a jawline that could probably cut glass. Despite the years, Danny immediately recognized the faint glint of determination (and maybe stubbornness) in his eyes. Some things never changed.

“Bruce,” Danny drawled, leaning against his desk. “What do you want now? Did you break something? Or someone? Or are you just here to tell me about how Gotham still sucks?”

“Danny,” Bruce said, his voice as grave as ever. “I need your help.”

Danny squinted at him, skeptical. “Help? With what? You’re literally Batman now. What could you possibly need from me?”

Bruce hesitated for a moment, and Danny almost laughed. He’s nervous. What the hell is going on?

Finally, Bruce spoke. “It’s my family.”

Danny blinked. “Your… family?”

“They’re... difficult,” Bruce admitted begrudgingly, and Danny couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He laughed so hard he had to clutch his sides, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“You? You, the most difficult person I’ve ever met, are complaining about difficult family members?” Danny wheezed. “Oh, this is rich.”

Bruce didn’t look amused. “Danny.”

“Alright, alright,” Danny said, wiping his eyes. “What’s the deal? You’ve got Alfred, right? Let him handle it.”

“This is different,” Bruce said, and Danny could hear the faintest edge of discomfort in his voice. “You’ll see when you get here.”

And with that, the line cut out.

Danny stared at the blank screen for a moment before sighing. “I swear, if he’s gotten himself in over his head again…”

Danny arrived at Wayne Manor via ghost portal the next evening, stepping out of the swirling green vortex in his Phantom form. The grandeur of the place hit him immediately—it was just as ridiculous as he remembered.

He floated down into the Batcave, landing silently behind Bruce, who was reviewing a crime map on the massive Batcomputer.

“Alright, Batsy,” Danny said, his voice echoing in the cave. “What’s the big deal?”

Bruce didn’t even turn. “They’re here.”

Danny was about to ask who when he heard a series of rapid footsteps and loud voices approaching from the tunnels.

“—I told you to stop touching my stuff, Todd!”

“Like I care, Drake!”

“You’re both insufferable,” another voice cut in, colder and sharper.

“Guys, please!” someone else chimed in, clearly exasperated.

And then they were there—a collection of teenagers and young adults, each looking like they belonged in their own action movie.

Danny blinked. “Bruce,” he said slowly, turning to face him. “Why do you have an army of kids?”

Bruce sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as his children assembled in front of Danny.

“Danny, meet my… family.”

The first to step forward was the oldest—a grinning man in his twenties with an acrobat’s grace and bright, mischievous blue eyes. “Dick Grayson,” he said, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Danny shook it, eyeing him warily. “The original Robin, huh? Bruce talks about you sometimes. Says you’re the ‘good one.’”

Dick smirked. “Good to know I’m still the favorite.”

“Only because you don’t give me headaches,” Bruce muttered.

The next kid to step forward was a young man with a white streak in his dark hair, a leather jacket, and an air of barely-restrained chaos. He didn’t offer a handshake.

“Jason Todd,” he said, his voice rough. “And you’re the guy who taught Bruce how to nag, huh?”

Danny snorted. “And you’re the one who probably causes most of his headaches.”

Jason smirked. “Damn right.”

The third was a lanky teen with sharp eyes and a smartphone glued to his hand. “Tim Drake,” he said, not looking up from the screen.

“You’re the tech guy, I’m guessing?” Danny said.

Tim nodded distractedly. “You could say that.”

Next was a young boy, no older than ten, with a scowl that could probably scare grown men. He crossed his arms and glared at Danny.

“Damian Wayne,” he said. “Biological son.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Ah, the little terror Bruce never shut up about.”

Damian bristled. “I am no terror—”

“Yes, you are,” everyone said in unison.

Danny turned to Bruce, his arms crossed. “So… what do you need my help with? Because it looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

Bruce sighed heavily. “They don’t listen to me. Half the time, they’re arguing. The other half, they’re trying to outsmart each other—or me.”

“And?” Danny prompted.

“And,” Bruce said reluctantly, “I thought you could help… mediate.”

Danny blinked. Then he started laughing again. “You want me to babysit your army of vigilantes?”

“It’s not babysitting,” Bruce growled.

But it absolutely was.

Over the next few days, Danny found himself in the middle of Bat-family antics. Whether it was Jason and Tim bickering over whose tech was better, Dick trying to wrangle everyone for a “team-building exercise,” or Damian threatening to fight literally everyone, Danny was beginning to realize why Bruce looked so perpetually exhausted.

But for all the chaos, there was a sense of family here that Danny couldn’t help but admire. It reminded him of his own ragtag group back in Amity—Sam, Tucker, Jazz, even Vlad in a weird way.

Eventually, Danny pulled Bruce aside. “You know,” he said, “for all your complaining, you’ve built something pretty amazing here. They’re not just your team—they’re your family.”

Bruce looked at his kids, a rare flicker of softness crossing his face. “I know,” he said quietly.

Danny grinned. “Well, you’re still a pain in the ass, but I think you’ve done alright, Batsy.”

And so, Danny’s unexpected reunion with Bruce turned into a week-long crash course in dealing with the next generation of vigilantes. By the time he left, he was exhausted—but also a little proud.

As he stepped back through his portal, he shook his head with a smile.

“Baby Bat really did grow up, huh?”

Somewhere in the Batcave, Bruce smirked.

[augustinewrites]

cw: jjk manga spoilers (up to 221), blood, sword fights heh + note: it's finally here, and somehow it's worse than shibuya!

“is he gonna be mad?”

“satoru?” you snort lightly, taking another bite of your frozen yogurt. “he’s just going to ask if you won. he might try to take the sequel of that new book set you got as punishment— but i’ll see what i can do.” 

across the table, megumi huffs, leaning back into the plush booth. you’d picked him up early from school today, the reason being yet another suspension. his second since he’d started the school year. you suppose that’s the reason for his sullen disposition and existential crisis. 

“am i a bad person?”

you glance up at him in acknowledgement, but take a moment before answering. he stirs the frozen yogurt around in its cup, looking rather glum.

there’s a delicate way of going about these types of things. children (especially teenagers) are complicated creatures. they’re still at their most malleable, your words and actions shaping their very future.

“i don’t think you’re a bad person, megumi,” you answer softly, setting your spoon down. 

“but i…i keep doing bad stuff,” he argues dejectedly. “and— and i was mean to tsumiki—”

“hey. no one’s born wanting to do bad things,” you tell him. “and when they do…it’s usually more complicated than we think. there are bad situations where sometimes we have to do bad things. even if we don’t want to. even if we’re not proud of them.” 

“but how do you know that i’m not?” he asks again, and your heart aches. 

“because i know you,” you smile. “i’ve known you for eight years, megumi. yeah, i think you could afford to try using your words instead of your fists once in a while, and be a little nicer to your sister…but i know everything you do comes from a good place.”

megumi doesn’t reply, staring out the window with that pensive frown of his. all you can do is wonder if you and satoru have done right by him. if you’re doing right by him now. (such is the life of a parent, you suppose.)

all you can do is hope. 

“hey,” you grin, holding your hand out to him. “promise me something?”

_____

you stumble backwards, narrowly avoiding being gutted by a sword. gasping, your fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt, the material sliced right above the small, almost imperceptible bump of your stomach. 

your megumi would never hurt you. your megumi, your sweet, gentle boy who still muttered the song about bunny ears as he tied his shoes. who always offered his sister the last bite of cake, even though you knew he wanted it for himself. who cried the first time his shikigami were injured in battle. 

but this isn’t megumi.

you barely dodge the blade again, ducking and sending your demon dogs out to slow him down as you sprint down the alley. your heart shatters at the sound of a high-pitched whine, but you can’t stop, you can’t look back—

“going somewhere?”

you skid to a stop in front of him, staggering back as quickly as you can. 

megumi— no, sukuna stands in front of you now, holding a sword you’d taught his vessel how to make, how to use. 

“please,” you beg, thinking of tsumiki’s body a few blocks away. thinking of gojo in the prison realm. you can’t lose anyone else today. “please let him go.”

“i don’t think so,” he grins, sick and twisted as he slowly makes his way towards you. “if only he’d unlocked his full potential sooner. if only you had.” 

“he’s just a child.” you say, voice trembling. you look around. there’s no use in running. he’s gotten much too strong.

but you’re not ready to die either.

he wasn’t patient, lunging first and taking the offense. it’s a struggle to meet him at every swing, deflecting blows that send tremors down the sword’s point of impact and reverberate through your arms. 

playing defence is the smart move. you’d wait for an opening or a drop in his own defence. then your goal would be to disarm him and attempt to grant yourself an advantage. 

(in theory, at least.)

when your swords lock once more, he forces them to the side, kicking you square in the chest. the impact knocks you onto your back. before you can get up, he’s on top of you, driving his sword into your shoulder.

the pain is so blinding, so white-hot and tortuous that you almost immediately pass out when he pulls it free and tosses it out of your reach. 

sukuna is in your face now, lips peeled back into a smirk as he laughs, the top of his finger slowly dragging down your face.

“putting you down now would be letting this brat off too easy. doing it slowly, however—”

“get off her.”

your heart skips a beat. that voice. 

there’s a flash of recognition in megumi’s eyes. just a for a second. 

“satoru?” 

“is that any way to treat the person who washed your underwear for almost ten years?” he tsks, hands in his pockets as he steps into the alley, quite literally kicking the king of curses off of you.

he sweeps you off the floor as gently as possible, your stomach flipping at the familiar sensation of being teleported.

you’re not in the alley anymore, you’re up on the roof of a building. as soon as satoru sets you on your feet, you look up, studying his face. the eyes you love so much stare back at you. 

the emotions you’d kept bottled up since he’d been gone pour out at once. proof of your heartache, anger, pain, and loneliness spilling over your lash line.

suddenly there’s too much space between you and you tentatively take a step forward. 

“it’s you,” you breathe. “it’s really you.” 

he says your name softly, and arms you’d longed for envelop you. you feel safe, if only for a moment.

“you need to get to ieiri,” he whispers, a hand cupping your cheek gently. “go. i’ll stop him.”

you both close your eyes, as if the words hurt.

_____

“promise me you’ll always be good.” 

megumi sighs, but places his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly.

“i’ll see what i can do.”

[yearsbecomingcool]

nice guys finish last | daniel markowitz 18+

donate to gaza here | masterlist | part 1

pairing | daniel markowitz x f!reader

synopsis | you see how long danny can really last.

warnings | f!reader, sexual context, mentions of premature ejaculation, subby!danny, dom!reader, handjobs, degradation, titty worship, nipple play, & edging.

word count | 1.6k

a/n | if writing submissive men is wrong i don't want to be right. this was so fun to work on, it's been a long time since i've written any smut involving men so this was a bit of a challenge, but a fun one nonetheless. i'm trying to figure out which other character's of fred's i want to write for so if y'all have any requests pls share, i am a deeply indecisive person. also!! if you'd like to be on my taglist for future fics let me know!!

You’re sitting on Danny’s lap as he hangs his head in embarrassment. He can’t believe he just came in his pants from making out and grinding. He feels like a teenager again in the worst way possible. He gathers himself enough to speak, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

You cut him off, cupping his face in your hands, “Hey. It’s okay, I’m not upset.”

“It’s just…it’s so fucking humiliating,” he whines. 

“Why? Danny…it was hot.”

He looks up at you, a bit confused. “What? I came in my fucking pants like- like a teenager. That’s embarrassing!”

“To you maybe. I don’t know…I liked it. It’s cute, I didn’t know I got you worked up like that,” you giggle, playing with his hair. 

“Cute? You’re messing with me, there’s no way you thought that was cute.”

You shake your head, “Some girls are into it y’know, I am at least. Makes me feel good to know that all I had to do was kiss you and dry hump you. Makes me think about how you’d react if I actually got my hands on you.”

“You want to touch me?” He asks it as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“Did you think I was grinding on you for shits and giggles?”

He blushes bright red, “I just…didn’t want to assume anything. I-I don’t know.”

“You’re fucking adorable, truly.” 

You cup his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “Danny, let me make this clear. I want to touch you, I think you’re attractive, I’ve been into you for years. Fuck whatever insecure thoughts are running through that head of yours, okay? It’s hot that you just came in your pants like that, I wanna see how long you’d last if I touched you for real if you’d let me.” 

He wets his lower lip with his tongue and nods his head. “Please…” It comes out small and pathetic. He winces as he hears it leave his lips. 

“Please what? Tell me what you want me to do, Danny.” You straddle his lap again, thighs on either side of him. Your hand goes down to his belt. “I can’t give you what you need if you don’t ask for it.” 

He throws his back against the couch, whining pathetically, his hips rolling up against yours. You reach down to pin his hips to the couch, “Be a good boy and use your words.” 

“God…you’re really gonna make me?” He asks breathlessly. 

“I mean unless you want to go off into my bathroom and try to get yourself off, then yeah, you’re gonna ask for it.” He’s only seen this side of you a couple times in his life and every single time he’s crumbled beneath your feet, ready to do whatever you ask of him. With other girls he’s been the one to take charge, but as you order him around he can’t help but melt and bend to your will. 

He closes his eyes and sighs, “Please…please touch me. I need it so bad.” 

His pleas are music to your ears. You smile down at his lap and start to undo his belt, pulling it off and throwing it to the side. You lean forward and start to kiss his neck while you undo his pants. You don’t pull his cock out immediately, you’re gonna tease him first.

“Let’s make a deal, yeah? You hold off on coming till I give you permission and I’ll let you suck my tits. How does that sound to you?” 

He opens his eyes, glancing down at you hungrily. “I-I just have to hold it till you say?”

“Mhm, that’s all I need from you, pretty boy.”

“Fuck it, yeah, deal.”

You chuckle against his neck, your hand trailing down to his crotch. You begin to palm him through his underwear, whimpers falling from his lips almost instantly. “I knew that would work, fucking perv. Did you think I’d forget every time you’d look at my tits in my bikinis? You looked at me like you wanted to eat me, just wanted to bury your face in ‘em, hm?”

“Oh fuck me…” He mutters, his hips bucking up towards your palm, desperate for something more. “You noticed?”

“Danny, you’re as subtle as a brick through a window. You could’ve burned holes through them if you tried hard enough,” you laugh. You squeeze him through his underwear and his eyes shoot open like he was just given a shot of adrenaline. He whines so pathetically that you can’t help but smirk, “So sensitive…” 

“I can’t help it…I haven’t been with anyone since Allie,” he mumbles. 

“Forget about her, okay? I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Promise.”

You tug his briefs down, his cock springing free. “You were hiding this from me this whole time? Allie was a lucky girl,” you chuckle, biting your lip as you look down at it. You hold your palm up to his mouth, “Spit.” 

“You want me to spit on it, shouldn’t you do that?”

“Sorry, should I just dip your dick in your Dr. Pepper?” You ask sarcastically.

“Please don’t.” He leans forward and spits into your palm obediently. 

“Atta boy.” You wrap your hand around his cock, pumping it at a slow teasing pace.

He mewls at your touch, his head falling forward against your neck. He places soft kisses starting at your ear, trailing down to your collarbone. He keeps his hands to himself as best he can, gripping your waist. “Can’t believe this is real…” He mumbles against your skin. 

“How many times did you touch yourself thinking of me, Danny?” 

He whines, “So many times. I felt so guilty every time, just couldn’t get you out of my head. Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He begins suckling marks into your delicate skin, you whine as you get him off. 

You pick up the pace, watching how his body reacts to your touch. Part of you is shocked he’s held it this long after how quickly he came before. “Pervy boy…getting off to your best friend like that, should fucking punish you for it. Do you even deserve to cum again tonight?” You’re teasing, of course you’ll let him cum, you’re not cruel. It’s just way more fun to watch him squirm. 

“Please, please, I’m sorry! I-I just…you-”

“Hm, shut up. Fuck the deal, gonna give you what you need.” You tug your shirt down with one hand, your bra exposed. “Don’t make me do all the work here, it’s not gonna suck itself.”

He reaches forward to tug your bra down as well, he starts to kiss down from your collarbone to your breasts. He leaves marks every now and then, leaving a dark trail you know will leave you wearing turtlenecks for at least a week. He spends his time marking you up, he’s wanted to do it for years. He reaches up for your nipple, rolling it between his fingers, eliciting a whine from you. He smirks as if he’s won, you squeeze his cock softly to remind him who’s in charge. He lets out a strangled yelp and bucks up into your hand. He takes your nipple into his mouth, suckling at it as he moves his hand to tweak the other. You pick up your pace, muttering a mix of praise and degradation.

“Pretty fucking boy, you’re so good for me. Bet you spent so much time fucking your hand imagining doing this to me, hm? Bet you felt so guilty seeing me after, poor baby couldn’t get me out of his head. You’re doing better than I thought, didn’t know you could handle a pretty girl's hand around your cock. Could barely handle a kiss before.” You laugh as he suckles at you.

He’s practically fucking your hand at this point, bucking his hips pathetically. You squeeze your hand around his cock, stroking him and keeping the pace of his thrusts. His eyes squeeze shut and he moves his mouth to your other nipple, whining against your skin as he feels himself getting closer. He suckles harder, causing you to wince at the slight pain. You tangle a hand in his hair, pulling his face flush against your breast. He lets out a strangle moan and spills his seed against your lap and into your palm. As he comes down he suckles at your breast as if he’s soothing himself. 

He finally pulls away, breathing heavily. You bring your fingers to his mouth, “Clean ‘em up for me?” I ask. He brings your fingers into his mouth, sucking till they’re clean. You pull them from his mouth, wiping them against his t-shirt. You grab his chin and lift his head, you smile at the sight of his flushed cheeks and messy hair. “You’re so fucking hot.”

He grins bashfully, leaning his head back against the couch. “I didn’t know you could be so mean…or that I’d like it so much.” He lifts his hand, trailing his fingers over the marks he left on you. He looks proud of them.

“You owe me a turtleneck for these y’know, we’re lucky it’s winter.” 

“Hm you could just show ‘em off instead. Let everyone know I left ‘em there,” he numbles.

“Who knew you could be so possessive,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. 

“Look at you, if I don’t leave a mark I’ll never get another chance.” He sounds sad.

“You’re going to get many other chances, the night’s still young, I haven’t come yet…and tomorrow I might wanna wake up with a pretty boy between my thighs,” you tease, stroking his hair gently.��

“Fuck…I feel like I need to clean you up instead. Another round in the bath maybe? Your hot water got fixed, right?”

You chuckle, “Yeah, fucking finally. C’mon, I think you owe me an orgasm or two.”

[igotanidea]

Cracking: Damian Wayne x reader

part 5 of "Family rules" series.

He was going mad.

For a girl.

Nothing he ever thought would happen to someone like him.

A guy raised by assassins and Batman, who was used to putting his feelings at bay if even having any.

And now he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

It was impossible for someone as perceptive as Robin himself to miss her paleness and sadness. At least whenever he was near. 

And avoiding him at any cost.

And – as it usually happens – the teachers were completely oblivious to the situation and that was about to be the source of a hell of a problem for both Damian and Y/N.

“Pairs? What do you mean we’ll be working in pairs?!” she exclaimed at one history lesson upon hearing the great idea of their tutor.

“Is that such a horror for you, Y/N?” the teacher smiled through the glasses and in any other situation it would be almost benevolent but not this time.

“Yes!”

“Well I am afraid the class has already divided so you just have to comply.”

“But—”  she spun around and groaned both internally and externally upon realizing that her little outburst only left her one person to work with. “Fucking great…” she muttered noticing Damian swinging casually on his seat, not having a single care in the world.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

“I’m not working with him!”

“Getting scared, Y/L/N?” Damian smirked, knowing well how to use the opportunity. He’s been trying to talk to her for the last two weeks since that little beating in the hallway but she was surprisingly skilled in disappearing in thin air. And since he was also a teenage boy, mocking and teasing seemed the only way to reach his goal.

“Pff!” she scoffed, crossing arms over his chest. The need to prove herself superior to him was fighting with an iron resolve to forget his existence.

“Y/N, sit down now and do not make a scene. I do not understand what’s been happening to you lately.” The teacher instructed, clearly losing patience with one of the best students.

“Fine…” she muttered, plumping on the chair as far from Damian as possible, still grumpy, hardly even listening to the teacher’s instructions on the task.

“Fate definitely has a wicked sense of humor huh, Y/L/N?”

“Can you just shut up?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Yeah, no shit genius.”

“Why?”

“Why do you care?”

“Well I am asking so clearly I do.”

“You don’t really strike me as a caring type, Wayne.”

“Maybe not by your definition. Not my fault you are so conceited you mess up care and selfishness.” He mocked.

“What did you say?” Y/N hissed

Damian smirked. This was the exact reaction he was trying to get out of her.

“You call me selfish, you little prick?” Her eyes flashed with anger. “You piece of shit. You look down on everybody because you are fucking Wayne and you dare reflect all your fucking traits onto me!?”

The girl didn’t even notice how her voice got louder and how she was suddenly standing instead of sitting and quietly working on the task. She missed the fact that she was making a scene for the whole class to see, once again dragging all the attention to herself. And once again the reason for her emotional outburst was Damian Wayne. Who she hated with all her heart. Who made her act like a fool and clearly – bring out the worst of the good girl she always considered herself to be.

“Who do you think you fucking are?!” Her self-control was now completely gone “You think you can just do whatever you fucking want and have zero consequences coming from it!?”

Thank god the phones were not allowed in classes cause at this moment she would definitely end up being a meme on social media.

“Y/N!” the teacher finally woke up from the shock that her transformation brought upon everyone. “Enough! Principal’s office. Now. In fact – “ he looked around, his gaze landing on Damian. “Both of you.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong. There is no basis for me to go –” Damian stated with the most cold voice he could produce.

“I don’t care!” the teacher seemed to finally lose his cool “you two are trouble and I’m not having either in my class. Now off you go. Out!” he pointed to the doors and with exchanged hateful glances Y/N and Damian decided to obey. Part of the reason was also the fact that they both knew they were in full capacity to drive the principal crazy just by showing up on the doorstep to his den.

***

“The hell is wrong with you?” he muttered as soon as they were out the door and on the empty hallway.

“Oh, me? You are the one who seems to be constantly looking for my attention.”

“And why do you think that is?” The sudden change in his tone took her by such a surprise she stopped and dared to do something that did not happen in a few weeks. She looked at him. More precisely, into his eyes. And in them, she saw something she did not like. At all.

Emotions.

Pain.

Confusion.

Embarrassment.

Affection!?

“Damian…” she gulped heavily trying to clear her head and calm her rapidly beating heart.

“You are annoying. Unnerving.” He hissed, his eyes fixed on hers “Messed up. I don’t understand you. You are a mystery I cannot crack. And it’s making me angry.”

If he was a normal person he would probably clench his fists right now.

“Then why don’t you just leave me alone?!”

“Stop yelling.” Damian grabbed her hand and dragged her into the nearest empty classroom so that no one would catch them causing disturbances in the hallway. “How come for years we didn’t care about each other and now we can’t seem to be within five feet distance without fighting?”

“Oh please!” she scoffed leaning on the door “Care? Have you been reading a dictionary and learning new words?”

“You are getting on my nerves here Y/L/N.” Damian took a step closer to her trying to look menacing and as much Robin-like as possible.

“Then let me ask you again – why don’t you fucking leave me alone!?”

“Because I can’t!”

There. The armor cracked and even though he barely said anything it felt awful. He exposed himself. Showed his weak points to the enemy.  Lost on his own wish.

For a moment his words seemed to echo from the empty walls of the classroom, the air filled with tension.

“You’re not even trying are you? Damian?” her voice was surprisingly quiet and soft, even to herself.

“No…” he confessed, unable to fight against those e/c eyes fixed on his face “no… no, I am not trying.”

“Damian…”

“Please…” now he was so low as to stoop to begging. And it was humiliating. Downgrading. Scary. “Please don’t run from me, Y/L/N. You are driving me mad.”

All it took was one more look. One more exchange of glances filled with mixed emotions.

And they were back to that gala night.

The classroom was gone, the school forgotten and all that mattered was holding her close, preventing her from running away and that strange, strange, unknown feeling in his chest.

Everything important in this moment came down to the feeling of his arms around her, hearing his heartbeat against her ear and calming the storm of the emotions neither of them understood.

For some reason, simply holding onto each other felt like a peace amongst the storm. Like a lighthouse guiding them to safe haven amongst the families feud and last-names competition.

“What are we gonna do-?” he was the one to cut the silence, the weight of questions pressing onto his shoulders making him speak before he could think about the consequences of his doubts.

“I don’t know-“ said implications took form of her pulling back from him “I don’t know Damian-“

“Don’t go-“ with the reflex of a vigilante Damian gripped her arm causing her to whimper in pain. “Y/l/n? You good? What happened?” The strength he used was definitely not enough to make her react like this.

“Nothing. Nothing. It’s nothing!” she responded quickly trying to wriggle away. Too quickly. Quickly enough to make him suspicious and ignoring her protest to push him to roll her sleeve a little.

“What--?” the words died in his throat as he noticed the purple bruise on her forearm.

“It’s nothing!” she yanked free “you had no right!”

“I’m –” Damian stuttered. He messed up again.

“You’re a prick!”

“I’m sorry! But if we’re about to do- this-“ it was impossible to use the word concerning possible relationship or anything of sort – “you need to tell me. What happened?”

Y/N hesitated, torn between a lot of mixed things. Could she tell him? Could she not tell him? Every move came with the consequences, almost like she was reduced to a figure on the chessboard, constantly moved by someone else. Without any power to control her own life.

But one thing was certain.

Some things and some feelings were worth protecting.

And that’s why she had only one way of surviving.

“I can’t.” she whispered with a sad, apologetic smile. “I can’t, Damian.” Without missing a beat she leaned forward, kissing him as if trying to sweeten the bitter words. Pulling everything she had into the brief contact of lips on lips, like a silent apology of putting him through the mess.

Before Damian realized what was happening he was kissing her back, pulling her close, caressing her back, in his own way trying to show her he was going to protect her. But what did he know? He was only 17 with zero power to shape reality. And when he felt her slip from his grasp and losing her warmth against him that realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

But it didn’t mean he was going to give up.

Not now. Not ever. Not until she explicitly told him she didn’t want him.

***

 “How was school today?” her father asked her as soon as she stepped over the door to home. There was no denying Mr Y/L/N became very interested in his daughter's progress at school.

“It was normal.” Y/N couldn’t care less about his fake concern, trying to walk past him and get into her room.

“Ah! Not so fast, young lady. Did you do what I asked of you?”

“No.” The girl frowned, putting hands on her hips in a poor attempt at a power pose.

“No?”

“No!”

“Then I suppose we have to have the talk again, don’t we, little girl?”

She was in deep trouble that seemed to have no end….

@6000-fandoms @beyond-your-stars @mikyapixie

@heartz4miz @crookedmakerfury @mariam12344 @celestair

@faimmm @hornyslasher @urdarlingali @emmalove1111 @crookedmakerfury @herondale-lightworm @itzjustj-1000 @ginger24880 @anonymousmuffinbear @adharawitch @jasons-little-princess @sharkybabydoll @cupids-diner @whydoyoucare866 @ladychibirae

[fungateshortcakes]

Deadly Dinner (old!Logan x fem!reader)

Pairing: old man Logan × fem!mutant! Reader

Summary: A nice family invites you, your husband Logan, Charles and Laura to dinner at their farm. You have a lovely time, yet Logan insists on leaving despite being offered a place to sleep. Maybe you should have listened to him?

Wordcount: 5.1k

Genre: angst, heavy angst, little tiny bit of fluff, follows the plot of the movie (Logan 2017)

Warnings: english is not my first languange! first time posting on tumblr, blood, goore, wounds, violence, death, X24, guns, stabbing, one time use of (Y/N)

I've never uploaded to tumblr before, so I am still trying to figure things out. Let me know if you liked it!

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You knew Logan didn't really like sitting here at the dinnertable with this new family when he was supposed to sit in his car and get Laura to her destination - which he didn't believe to be real, but what other choice did he have?

For you, this felt..nice. It was like catching a long needed break, bringing back domestic moments like this even for just a little while. You had missed that in your marriage with Logan for a long time now. He was getting old, getting tired, shutting you off more often than not. And even if this was just play pretend - Laura being your little daughter, despite you knowing her for barely a week, and Charles being Logans father - for a second you allowed yourself to be fooled and enjoy this moment as it was.

"Oh she is adorable" Kathryn cooed as she watched Laura stuff her mouth full of food with her bare hands. You chuckled nervously and went to wipe her greasy fingers clean, to which she looked at you with a slight glare. You gave her a warning glance no one else could see and handed her cuttlery. You turned back to Kathryn with a forced smile. "Isn't she just? That cute little face makes up for all the manners she doesn't have" you elbowed softly into her side, she pouted and began to eat with her fork and knife, albeit unhappy with your decision.

Kathryn laughed, remembering how her teenage son Nate was at that age. "Don't be too dramatic, when Nate was that age, he was no different" she flashed her teeth while watching Laura eat her food in big bites as if she had been starving. "I miss when my big boy was still this little" she giggled and pinched her sons cheek, who groaned in annoyance.

"How did you cope with her going to kindergarden for the first time? Nate is going to college soon and I still can't manage seeing him all grown up" The woman swooned, turning her whole attention to Logan and you, completely neglecting her food. It also had been a good while for her that she got to talk to someone about this, she was eager for a conversation.

This was awkward. Logan and you never actually had children, nor did you two want any in the first place. Not to mention the fact that Laura was no ordinary child created by the love of two people, with a normal life and normal childhood. Your mouth remained open as you looked at her. You kicked Logan under the table and looked at him for help.

He cleared his throat. "Uhm...well. I'd say Laura had a harder time than us" he chuckled, the sound more of a rasp as he scratched his neck. You quickly clocked in. "Right, yeah. When we went to bring her in for her first day, Logan had to peel her off his leg because she didn't want us to go" you smiled and leaned against Logan, his eyes softening. "She cried the whole day until we picked her up again"

A warm feeling spread through Logans chest, dulling the every day ache for a short moment at the thought of what could have been. "Aww, sounds like someone really loves their mommy and daddy." Kathryn cooed to Laura. Laura couldn't care less about the words that were spoken and didn't really give the woman any reaction besides looking at her for a split second after she noticed someone talked to her. Kathryn was a bit...weirded out, to say the least. But it was good enough.

"Nate was the complete opposite" Will suddenly threw in, chewing his food soundly. "The second he hit the ground - he was off. Like he couldn't wait to get away from his mom" he lifted his fist to his mouth and coughed "not that I would blame him-" he muttered before his booming laugh echoed through the room after his wife had slapped his arm. "I'm kiddin" he snickered, holding his hands up in defense.

The whole table laughed, some forced, others genuine. Charles cleared his throat, pulling the attention to him. "In that matter, Laura is just like her father. Ever since Logan met (Y/n), he was stuck to her like glue. And it has been that way ever since"

The family ooe'd at you both, Logan huffing out a quiet laugh as he shrugged his shoulders in that 'what can I say' way, the crows feet near his eyes crinkling deeply.

You hadn't seen him like that in ages, the expression on his face coming as close to what someone would call joy as it could with the pain plaguing him every single minute of his time.

You rubbed his back, leaning your head on his broad shoulder that slumbed only a little under your actions. "Where did the two of you meet, hm?" Kathryn asked, eager to know more about your relationship. You grasped Logans hand under the table, for reassurance of course.

"Well my, my father ran a school for a lot of years. Right, Charles?"

Charles smiled and nodded his head. "Yes, yes it was...it was a kind of special needs school" he lied, Logan softly snorting at the choice of Charles words. "Uh-huh, that's a good description" you laughed at the sarcasm dripping from his voice. Of course Charles couldn't say what this 'school' truely was. But still.

"He was there" Charles started, pointing to Logan. "And she was, too"

Kathryn clasped her hands together. "Oh! So you are something like highschool sweethearts?" she assumed, smiling brightly at Logan and you. "I guess you could say that, yes" you answered and her smile only went wider at what she heard. She put a hand over her heart. "So true love does exist, how lovely"

For her, it sounded like Logan and you had been together ever since you were teenagers. To think that your love was still strong after all these years made her so incredibly happy for you two. Truth was, back at the mansion, you were well in your twenties when you met Logan. Not to mention that he was already over a hundred years old or so at the time. Besides that - you hated each other. Which didn't mean that what Charles said was wrong. Oh no. Logan followed you around everywhere. It annoyed you and he didn't even know why he did it. Turns out, he wanted to protect you ever since he laid eyes on you. Without reason. He just did. Keeping you safe was his priority.

It still was.

Not that you weren't fully cabable of handling any danger yourself. You were a beast in combat and could heal your own as well as other peoples wounds. And yet he felt a whole lot better if he was by your side and could keep an eye out. Just in case.

After you had waited for Laura to still her seemingly insatable hunger, Logan stood up from the table. "Well ma'am, I can't thank you enough for this. Uh, it was great. But we have a long drive ahead of us, so.." he trailed off, tapping Lauras shoulder so she would stand up. You frowned up at him but Kathryn spoke up before you could. "But you need to rest, don't you?" He lifted a hand dismissively "Yeah, we'll find a motel somewhere"

You and him locked eyes and you gently shook your head, he sighed. "The nearest one is two hours from here and it's not even that nice" Will argued and you raised your brows at Logan as if to say 'you seriously want to sleep in a murky hotel when we can stay here for the night?'

"We have a perfectly fine room upstairs for your father and your daughter. And you and your wife can sleep in the livingroom on the convertible" Kathryn reasoned even further as Logan pulled Laura up from her seat by the arm. He stopped to look at the woman. "Kathryn, it's very, very nice of you, but we really should go"

Logan turned, pulling Laura along but you stood up, blocking his way. "We can leave early in the morning. Break of dawn, as it were" Charles chimed in, looking intentively at Logan. "Listen to your father. Come on, just one night. I would agree with you if you'd let me drive once in a while instead. But you'd rather drop dead than let me behind the wheel." You muttered, looking deeply into his tired eyes, your hands gently roaming up and down his sides. "You need a break. Nothing will happen, okay?" The eyecontact in this moment was important to you, yet he huffed and looked away. You quickly catched his jaw, turning him back to you. "Okay?" you asked again.

You could see the wheels turning in his head, his eyes moving over your face with his internal fight. He sighed. "Okay" he whispered, kissing your forhead before stepping away. "Why don't we wash up, Pop?" Logan sighed, gripping the handle of Charles wheelchair, pushing him out of the dining area to a bathroom.

You smiled softly as Kathryn gave your daughter- well, Laura, a piece of cake for dessert and the little girl smiled softly for once. She was...just like Logan.

Turning to the big pile of dishes in the sink, you rolled up your sleves and began scrubbing at the dirty plates. You felt a presence behind you. "What are you doing?" Kathryn laughed in surprise as she watched you washing their dishes as if you were their cleaning lady. You knew the next words that would come out of her mouth would be something along the lines of 'you are our guest' and 'let me finish this up while you get comfortable with your husband'

You flashed a smile at her "You gave us a delicious meal and let us stay the night, this is the least I can do to show my gratitude and appreciation" and that quickly shut her up. She was thankful and you knew, that was all that mattered.

The clinking of cuttlery could be heard as you washed the forks and spoons thoroughly with a soap drenched sponge. It was a mindless activity for you, your hands only focused on getting every speck of left-over food off the steel and ceramic, you didn't even realise you were softly humming to yourself. Your mind was elsewhere. That's when you jumped as the water suddenly spurted all over the place, the pipes creaking dangerously. You quickly turned off the water flow before there was a loud "Ah, shit!" and the front door fell shut.

The next second Logan and Charles were out the bathroom. Will explained that the pump station that supplied them with water was a mile away and got itself shut off from time to time. From what Nate said, some douchbag men were the reason for it. No big deal, right? They still had a water tank that had been freshly filled by the heavy rain yesterday, which you used to complete washing the dishes. Yet, Kathryn wanted her husband to fix the problem right away and since he wasn't in the mood to argue with his wife in front of guests, he reluctantly gave in to go out to the fields.

"My son is happy to go with you" Charles chimed in, nodding over to Logan who looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "No, no, its fine" Will declined the offer. Partly because he clearly saw that Logan wasn't really keen on the idea and to Will, Logan looked rather tired, weary and- insustainable, not to say weak. If these assholes came, what kind of help would Logan even be? The last Will needed was to bring you back your husband, all beaten up or something.

Logan of course new better. Yes, he was weary, he was tired, but he's still got it. He'd manage, somehow. Logan threw a last glance at Charles before his shoulders slumbed a bit in defeat. "Allright, I'll go" he rasped and walked over to you. He put his warm, rugged hand on your shoulder, kissing your temple. "I'll be back in a moment, sweetheart. I will get Charles settled, you think you can handle Laura on your own?" there it was again, that slight  smirk that made his eyes crinkle. You smiled at his attempt at teasing you. If your hands wouldn’t have been sopping wet and the others weren't there, you would have certainly wrapped your arms around his neck. Instead, you bumped his side with your hip. "Look who's talking" you  teased back with a small grin. You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek- or as much as you could reach from it, which ended up being more beard than skin. "I will wait for you in the livingroom once I'm done until you get back. I love you"

Logan brought Charles up to the guestroom Kathryn had prepared and went out with Will shortly after. Before you knew, Laura had silently followed Nate up to his room. The house was quiet, even upstairs.

You hummed softly as all you could smell were the sweet soapy bubbles in the sink. You used a small bowl you filled with water from a tank under the sink cabinet to rinse off the dishsoap from the porcelan cups and wine glasses, scrubbing with a rough sponge to leave it shiny and spotless. It was a bit more tedious than if you had running water, but you enjoyed this domestic moment you had to yourself. The last few days had been draining and exhausting, keeping your stress levels high with every dangerous thing life had thrown at you.

You had hope that after all of this, after bringing Laura safe and sound to Eden, that maybe some things would return to normal, that it would get better. You just wanted your husband back. Not in the sense of him not being there anymore in the flesh- but he had been so emotionally absent from you for the past years. You loved him, and he loved you too. It was just hard to keep believing that. You always thought that you were something worth living for to him. You were well aware of the pain he went through every day, the reminders that were constantly thrown at him that he couldn't do things like he used to, the voice in his head only telling him to kill himself to get out of that misery. You had catched him more often than not playing with the adamantium bullet, sometimes even with a shotgun pressed under his chin. You'd rather not see that again- ever.

As you had finished every last piece and put it next to the sink, you searched for a cloth to rub the plates and cuttlery dry. One hand held the spoon while the other engulfed it with the rag, drying it in between every tooth.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of strong hands on your hips, the frizzy texture of a beard scratching the exposed skin of your neck. You hadn't heard how he came in. After the initial shock, you relaxed under your husbands hands and continued your task. "Are you back already? That was pretty quick. I hope these assholes didn't give you two too much trouble" you muttered absentmindedly as you changed out the dry dishes in your hand with still wet ones. "I saw Laura walking up the stairs, she is probably with Charles. Maybe you could check if she's asleep yet before we go to bed" you suggested but never heard and answer from Logan. Yet his grip stayed firmly on your hips. You figured he was just tired, too worn out to care.

His hands felt weirdly...cold. And stiff. Logans were usually warm and lose around your waist or shoulder. This felt different now that you thought about it. What happened out there?

"I'll meet you in the livingroom once I am done here, okay?" you asked then, still no answer. You could only feel his hands travel up from your hips to your waist, resting there. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" you asked him carefully. He smelled different. Like he just broke out of a medical institute, reeking like sanitized air. You grew a bit tense, and you thought he could feel that.

Finally, you decided to turn your head. "Logan-?" you asked, but before you could get the words out, six adamantium blades pierced through your torso, the tips poking out on either side. You choked out a pained yelp, your legs feeling weak. That man behind you, whoever or what he was- he lifted you up to have gravity pull you down more onto his claws. He enjoyed the gutteral cry you let out before he let his blades retract, your body falling onto the ground, your head hitting the kitchen tiles.

Blood gushed from the wounds on your waist, throbbing pain hammered against your skull. You couldn't pass out. If you passed out, you'd die. With short grunts filled with agony, you twisted your aching body to the side, your eyes glancing at the figure of a man, his footsteps thundering up the stairs. You whimpered out, but it was more of a breathless weeze. "No...No, Laura. Charles" you rasped quitely.

The world kept spinning in harsh circles. Don't pass out. Don't pass out. While you could heal, it was unlike Logans ability to do so. While wounds, cuts and bruises vanished the second he got them, or at least that's how it used to be, you had to touch the affected area with your fingers. The bigger the wound, the longer it would take for you to heal it. The bigger the wound, the more the healing process drained your energy. But you couldn't let him get to Laura and Charles. You wouldn't forgive yourself.

You jammed your fingers into the clean cut holes, wailing in pain, your body protesting against your actions as it coiled in on itself. You sobbed out as you tried to bundle your energy and concentrate it to your fingertips, the burning sensation of flesh, intenstines and muscles stitching themselves back together all over your torso.

Tears spilled out of your eyes as you wriggled around in pain on the floor like a worm that had been cut in half. You gasped deeply to fill your lungs with air, completely forgetting to continue to breathe from the amount of energy this took out of you. You tried to stand, tried to get up and save Laura and Charles. But your knees buckled underneath you and you fell back against the kitchen aisle.

With a heaving breath, you sat up to lean your back against the oven door, heart thumping against your ribcage after you heard cries and a gunshot from upstairs. Who was that guy? He had claws. Like Logan. This couldn't be, this wasn't your Logan, right? Right?

Speaking of which, your husband came stumbling into the house, only wearing his white tank, a look of panic etched on his face. As you saw him, you breathed a short sigh of relief. But it worried you even more. Because if the man that had stabbed you wasn't him- then who was he!?

Logans knees nearly buckled under him from the sight of you, your blood spilled onto the tiles, staining your shirt, smeared all over your hands and arms. He fell to his knees next to you, eyes roaming over your body. He saw the six hole shaped wounds on either side of your torso, his gut twisting nauseously as he pictured what happened.

His chest heaved, his strong arms slipping under your legs and back, lifting you up with a pained grunt. "It wasn’t me- oh god it wasn’t me" he rasped, but it sounded more like an reassurance to himself than to you. Because you knew that- he would never do that to you. He made you touch the wounds on your side with your hand, his fingers trembling as he did. "Heal yourself, c'mon please" he pleaded you, his heart squeezing deeply in his chest as he heard you whine in agony, your body too tired and weary to continue.

He brought you outside and laid you into the back of his pick up truck, pressing your hands to your torso tightly. You had broken out into a cold sweat, your gaze a bit blurry as you looked at him. You couldn't say a word, you had to heal yourself. And every breath, every exhale and mutter of our voice pushed you further away from your goal.

Logan brushed his shaking thumb firmly over your cheek, trying to soothe you. And himself. With one last longing look, he turned around to pick up Charles and Laura. But before he could open the door to the house, it was already opened and he was face to face with - himself?

The mans face and his were identical, but the stranger was youthful. No wrinkles, no scars, not a trace of grey in his buzzed hair or beard. Only a deep scowl on his face. Both held intense eyecontact but made no sign of movement. Not until Logans gaze fell downward after hearing a distressed shriek below him.

The man had Laura.

The stranger huffed through his nostrils as he shoved himself past Logan and began to stomp towards a row of armored cars, Laura struggling in the device he had put her in. "No...Laura" you croaked helplessly as you watched, your voice barely above a whisper.

You turned your aching body back to Logan, ready to beg him to save her - but he was already gone, running up the stairs to find Charles. Before you knew it, tears continued to spill out of your eyes and down your cheeks. Everything happened so fast, everything was so much all at once. You were no help, you couldn't fight.

You couldn't save your daughter.

You were on the brink of unconsciousness, your eyes falling shut every now and then as your skull throbbed with pain. You forced yourself to stay awake, forced yourself to listen to Lauras cries as a reminder what a failure you were. Logan was right, you should have left after dinner.

You saw as another three set of cars drove onto the farm, a group of men getting out and standing in the mans way. They talked to him and he lowered Laura onto the ground. You breathed a sigh of short relief, hissing as finally one wound closed up completely on both sides. Five more to go...

A pained grunt threw you out of your haze. It was Logan, with Charles in his arms. Stumbling, he brought him over to you and only then did you see the three wounds on his chest. Your breath caught in your throat as his weak body was laid next to you. "I can heal him" you rasped but Logan knew better. Charles wouldn’t make it, despite the amount of energy you would put into healing him. And the last thing Logan needed was both of you dying without him being able to do anything about it. He swatted your hand away with a hurt look. He had made a decision.

Logan and you leaned over Charles, your tear falling onto his cheek right after he took his last breath. "No..." you whispered shakily, looking up to Logan, his jaw working tightly as he blinked, as if the weight of the moment had settled within him.

An explosion went off behind you, bringing your attention to the man that had Laura. He had killed the group of farmer assholes and was now distracted by the noise and fire. That's when Logan took off.

",Logan, no!" you shrieked in sheer panic, your voice raw, as Logan threw himself at his doppelganger, stabbing him into his neck. He buried his claws into him over and over, grunting as he did. But that bastard healed instantly, just like he did once. The doppelganger roared and flipped Logan over himself, smashing him down against the ground by his claws.

You heard blood splatter, wood cracking, the cutting of blades and the screams of your husband as he was pierced by blades mercilessly, his body growing tired.

You couldn't bear to look as the man rammed his blades through Logans armpit and out of the top of his shoulder. You started hyperventilating as all you could do was listen to your husband getting killed. You cried, desperately pushing your fingertips into your wounds and getting a hold of yourself again. You had lost so much blood, it was hard to know what was up and what was down.

Another wound closed up, and another. You couldn't feel your legs as you growled out, putting the last bit of energy into healing yourself so you could help Logan. Or at least get Laura to safety.

A car crashed into Logans doppelganger, pushing him into the exposed sharp ends of a destroyed tractor piece, trapping him there. He grunted, growling animalistically, struggling to get free. Will slowly got out of the car, a shotgun pointed to the man he had just hit with his car. Frustrated and angry, he shot him three times, the third time taking his eye out of it's socket before he finally quieted down.

Stumbling, Will turned around to face Logan, the real one out of the two. Wills gaze graced over Logans withered and battled body, the way the crimson blood soaked his white tank, dripping down his arms, face and hands. It was everywhere.

Both men panted as they looked at each other, Logan struggling to stand up as his knees kept buckling underneath him. Will grunted and lifted his shotgun, pointing it at Logan with shaking hands. Logan watched, swallowing thickly before he let his head hang, eyes closing and ready for it to end.

"No! No, don't shoot him" you gasped, suddenly standing in front of Logan defensively, holding up your hand to show that you were unarmed. "It wasn’t him, please" you pleaded, but for what? That he wouldn’t shoot just because you said it wasn’t Logans fault? That wouldn’t bring his family back. So what use did it have?

You took a shaky breath. "I know that you are angry, that you are hurt. And you have every right to be" you said to him, trying to find a change in Wills expression, but there was none.

"If you need to shoot someone...shoot me" you uttered. Logans eyes widened and he hoped he had heard you wrong. "No" he slurred, a hint of desperation in his voice as he pushed himself to stand up. You paid him no mind.

"If you need to let your anger out on someone, use me. But don't hurt my husband. He won't survive a bullet. Please" you begged him. Your heart was pounding in your throat, your sides were still aching, but not bleeding anymore. Were you scared? Of course you were. Scared of death, scared of losing the love of your life, scared to leave him and Laura alone...scared to be left alone with a kid that was so smiliar to him.

Despite your pleading, Will pulled the trigger. You jumped at the sound but were pretty much still alive. His gun was empty. And he was dead. With a loud thump, the man fell to the ground, unmoving.

Both you and Logan sighed with a hint of relief. You turned to him, the sight of him all beaten up like a knife to the heart. You made him sit down on the ground, leaning him against the wheel of a tractor. He was protesting, trying to stand up. "My god, Logan, stop fussing! You can’t walk, goddamnit!" you yelled at him, which shut him up. He wasn't mad at you for raising your voice. He knew you were stressed and worried about him. You didn't mean to shout at him. He grunted as you lifted up his shirt, exposing a fleshy wound. "Sh, sh, it's all going to be okay" you breathed, fingers penetrating the wounds. He groaned out and you cooed at him, tears rolling down your face. "I'm so sorry. I'm going to heal you as best as I can, then we are going to get Laura and get out of here, drive somewhere safe, okay?" You whispered to him, watching his face contort in pain as his flesh sewed itself back together.

Logan huffed as he saw that your own wounds hadn't finished healing yet, either. He graced them softly with his hand. "Your waist.." he croaked but you shushed him. "Don't worry about me. I'll manage. But you won't on your own" you answered, already feeling a headache forming as your energy was drained, flowing into repairing your husband so he wasn't on the brink of passing out anymore.

Once the biggest wounds were somewhat closed up, Logan had already healed some surface cuts into scars himself. You kissed his forhead before helping him up, his 300lbs body leaning on you for balance.

You slotted him into the passanger seat of the pick up truck before jogging up to Laura, scooping the shrieking girl into your arms. You opened the drivers door and pushed Laura over to Logan before getting behind the wheel yourself and shutting the door. Laura yelled as she saw the dead body of Charles in the back of the truck, Logan had to hold her down into her seat as you drove off.

"What do you think you are doing?" Logan coughes roughly, you could practically hear the frown in his voice. He was displeased with you driving the car, he didn't want you to get involved into a car accident. He also wanted you to rest, this was a lot today. "Do you seriously want to start this now?" you growled at him. This was not the time to argue about mundane stuff like this.

He didn't say another word after that and you sighed deeply. "I want you to rest, okay? Just this one time, let me drive" you mumbled, tired of fighting with him. The air in the car was thick, but the car only went quiet after Logan had freed Laura from her restraints.

You drove in silence, your grip tense on the steering wheel. You felt a hand on your thigh. Logan softly squeezed the meat of your thigh, a way of him saying sorry. To show that you accepted his apology, because why should you be angry at him for long?, you put your hand over his.

You looked at him for a moment. "I love you." he said. And you were glad that after today, after everything, you were still able to hear him say that.