#either its better than normal besides that

[kunareads]

get it over with

sukuna x reader

you break down, and he holds you together, no questions asked.

masterlist

wc: 1.6k

love letter to the emotionally stunted girlies <3

content: established relationship (sort of), hurt/comfort, nothing explicit, reader breaking down, he loves you so bad, soft sukuna

+++

i’m wondering why it keeps thundering

it’s late.

sukuna expects to find you in his bed, buried in his clothes, curled up like you always are. his apartment doesn’t feel right when you’re not here—when he doesn’t see the shape of you sprawled across his mattress, dreaming in the space that somehow became yours without either of you saying it out loud.

if you are awake, you’re waiting for him. lights dim, a movie playing, stretched out on the couch like you own the place. you always greet him the same way—some lazy remark about how long he took, how you almost fell asleep waiting, how he should be grateful you stayed.

(he never says it, but he is.)

but the apartment feels wrong tonight, like it’s holding its breath.

he almost trips over your bag, your shoes, abandoned in the entryway. the lights are off, the city casting long shadows through the windows.

he pauses in the doorway, gaze sweeping over the space, something tugging at his chest. at first, he doesn’t see you.

then he finds you. on the living room floor.

small, curled in on yourself, arms around your knees, head bowed low. your jacket is still on, halfway down your shoulders, like you meant to take it off but didn’t get that far.

he watches.

you’re never like this. you hold things together better than anyone he knows. you walk through hell without flinching, without showing anything but that sharp, steady ease you wear like armor. he’s seen you pissed, triumphant, reckless. he’s seen you exhausted, on the edge of something dangerous, close to breaking but never quite there.

but this is different.

he stands there, his arms loose at his sides, breath even. it’s not hesitation, just unfamiliar ground. he doesn’t know what to do with the way your shoulders shake, the way your whole body folds into itself like something’s crushing you from the inside.

(you look like you’re trying to erase yourself. he hates it.)

something heavy settles in his chest. it’s not pity. not discomfort. some other nameless thing.

without a word, he moves. he crosses the space, lowers himself to the ground beside you, and pulls you in. his arms slip around you, steady and certain, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

won’t you just rain, and get it over with?

you don’t move.

your weight against him is hesitant at first, like you’re not sure if this is allowed. like you’re deciding if you can take this from him. he notices it in the way you hover, how your body stays tense, how you brace for something that never comes.

(you’ve never really asked sukuna for anything that matters. would you, if you knew he’d give you whatever you wanted?)

his arms stay firm around you, one hand resting at the back of your head, the other wrapped around your waist. it’s not cautious, not careful, just solid. like this is normal, even though it’s never happened before.

you smell like yourself, but also like the cold. like wind on skin, like you’ve been outside too long and the night air is still clinging to you. he knows you do that sometimes—wear yourself out on purpose, walking for hours, chasing exhaustion, outrunning whatever’s clawing at you.

it didn’t work.

because now you’re shaking, breath coming too fast, whole body trembling against him.

he feels it hit all at once. the sharp, shaky inhale you take before your body caves inward, the sudden weight of you collapsing against his chest, the way your fingers twist into his shirt, searching, clinging. like you don’t even realize you’re doing it.

you’re sobbing. hard.

sukuna doesn’t know if you even realize it. he doesn’t know if you care. you never let yourself break like this, not in front of him, not in front of anyone.

he waits for it to pass. hoping it does.

when you exhale—shaky, uneven, tired—he presses you closer, fingers curling into the fabric of your jacket like you might slip through his grip if he doesn’t.

something in his chest loosens when you don’t pull away.

he exhales too, slow and steady, trying to regulate you, trying to get you to follow. breathe with me. he doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to. you always match each other this way.

you do now, too.

without thinking, he nudges his chin against your temple. a small touch. nothing, really.

but you feel it. he knows because you react—just barely, a fraction of a shift, but enough that he notices. enough that it does something to him.

he leans back against the couch, pulling you with him, guiding you down until your weight is fully against him, your head burrowed in his chest, his arms holding you steady, no space left between the two of you.

(anyone else seeing this would think they were hallucinating. you, breaking. sukuna, holding you together. sukuna doesn’t care.)

you need him. he knows, even if you never admit it.

i see you rolling it, let’s get it over with

your breathing slows first.

it’s not steady, not even—just less broken. the sharp, gasping sobs soften, unraveling into something quieter, tired, worn down by their own force. your tears still soak through his shirt, warm and damp, but they come slower now.

your body follows.

slowly, gradually, exhaustion dragging at your limbs, pulling you under like a tide. it’s like your bones have gone heavy, like you fought it as long as you could. you’re sinking further into him without even realizing it.

(you’ve been holding your breath for years. he remembers when you started. he should’ve seen this coming.)

sukuna stays still, patient in a way no one would expect from him. he doesn’t move, doesn’t risk disturbing the way you’ve practically melted into him. just lets you stay, lets you breathe. lets himself hold you like this.

the room is silent except for your breathing, the occasional hiccup from your chest.

your body loses its tension, but his mind won’t stop running. it won’t stop cataloging everything—how small you feel, how he should’ve known, how he should’ve done something before it got this bad.

this is the first time you’ve ever let him see you like this. the first time you’ve let anyone see you like this. he wonders if you’ve ever been like this at all.

eventually, you sag against him fully, exhausted, the last of your resistance slipping away.

sukuna exhales too, low and steady.

something about it feels like a truce.

he doesn’t let you go.

even though your sobs have quieted and your breathing has evened out, even though the room has settled into silence. he keeps his arms around you. not tight, not restraining. just there.

he’s not good at this kind of thing.

he doesn’t know what people are supposed to say in moments like this. doesn’t know how to string together the right words to make any of it better. doesn’t know what you need.

so he leans down, murmuring against your hair, lips brushing your temple.

“’m here.” it’s not meant to comfort you, not exactly. just to ground you. to remind you.

you shift slightly, your face still against his chest, your breath warm through the fabric of his shirt. when you finally move enough for him to see you, your face is flushed, eyes red and swollen, lips parted like you’re still catching your breath. his heart squeezes hard.

(he can see the wheels turning in your head. you’re already trying to stitch yourself back together. he wants to tell you not to bother.)

he doesn’t comment. doesn’t smirk, doesn’t mock. he just looks at you.

for once, he doesn’t have anything to say. for once, you don’t either.

it’s rare, this silence between you. he’s not sure if he likes it.

then, after a long moment, voice quiet—

”you done?”

a beat. room to say no.

it’s alright, we can roll in the clouds

you pull back first.

slowly, carefully, like you’re testing the movement. you sniff, avoiding his gaze, wiping your face with your sleeves.

sukuna lets you go, but not completely. his hands slide down your arms, slow and deliberate, settling at your wrists. his fingers don’t press, don’t hold. they just linger.

you clear your throat, shifting like you’re trying to find a normal that doesn’t exist here. “we can get up now.”

he doesn’t budge.

he just gives you this soft smile, looking way too comfortable, leaning back against the couch, watching you like he has all the time in the world.

“you first.”

silence.

neither of you move. you stare each other down for a moment.

you sigh, rolling your eyes, but you don’t pull away. instead, you settle back into him, easy, instinctive, like it’s nothing.

he feels it—the weight of you against him, the way your body relaxes back into place, the quiet trust in the way you let yourself stay.

it does something to him, the lack of hesitation.

you wouldn’t do this with anyone else. he knows that much.

(you let him hold you like this once. a lifetime ago. laughing against his throat, warm and careless and half-asleep, burrowing into him like it was the most natural thing in the world. he almost forgot what it felt like.)

he tilts his head down, presses a kiss to the top of yours and lingers there, breathing you in. he stays there longer than he means to. when he speaks, his voice is quiet, soft in a way he’d never admit.

“crybaby.”

“asshole.”

but you’re smiling now.

[adore-gregor]

Lol I keep on doing this, saying I'd come back to tumblr to only disappear again 😂😭

[nyxnco]

can anyone explain why im never satisfied with my skills for longer than an hour at a time. like. itd be nice to know the reason.

[snekdood]

idc if ppl think im problematic i just want it to be for the actual real reasons i am

[dollfacefantasy]

dig your claws right into me ♡

logan howlett x fem!reader

logan hurts you when he has a nightmare. now you both have to deal with the fallout.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, descriptions of nightmare, injury, and blood

a/n: reader is a mutant but i didn't specify her powers so you can imagine what you want. just some sickly sweet intimacy cause that's what i was feeling tonight <3

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The words come out whispered as Logan's lips press against the three tiny bumps of developing scar tissue on your abdomen.

"I already told you that you don't have to be sorry," you say. Your voice drifts into the space between the two of you as soft as the movements of your fingers running through his hair.

"Well I am, bub. You should want me to be."

Each one of his hands rests upon either side of your waist. His fingers squish against your flesh while his eyes stare at the scars on your belly. He gazes at them like the small marks, all equidistant from one another, could be willed away by his harsh look. He hated the fact that they were there at all. Even worse, that he was the one who gave them to you.

"But it was an accident," you respond, giving one of the tufts of his hair a gentle tug.

His dark pupils flit up to look at your face. "Doesn't matter. It being an accident doesn't change the fact that you're gonna have these marks forever. I wouldn't care that it was accidental if I'd killed you."

He remembers the night it happened that seemed like a real possibility.

His light sleep had been interrupted by a nightmare. Over the time that had passed between then and now, it'd become indistinct from all the others he experiences regularly. The only difference between that one and the ones he'd had since he'd started sleeping next to you each night was the intensity. That night had been rough. Normally when he slept in your room, he seemed to be able to tone it down. Almost as if his brain knew to not act up while your relationship was still starting to blossom.

But two weeks ago, his mind didn't care. It flash-banged him with the usual images of himself in that tank. The searing, splitting pain of the adamantium attaching itself to his bones.

Usually, if he had a nightmare beside you, he'd grunt and twitch, maybe shift around a little. That night though, you got to see the whole performance. The tossing and turning, sweating and moaning, tense limbs and scrunched up face.

Poor, sweet, innocent you thought that you could just wake him up. Your hands nudged at his bicep and shoulder as you gently cooed "Logan. It's just a dream."

In the end, your tenderness didn't matter. When he actually came to, your anguished cry was all that registered. And then he felt the sharp heat between his knuckles that meant the claws were out. His heart dropped and his vision nearly blacked out. He couldn't have.

He retracted them as quickly as they'd appeared and pulled back to look at you. Crimson flooded the gray t-shirt you'd worn to bed. The three little spots spread into large blooms of scarlet. Your hands flew to the spot to clutch at it, but they did nothing to stop the warm liquid from spilling out.

"No, no, no, fuck," he'd whispered frantically as his mind raced for a solution.

Your cries morphed into whimpers. Soft and vulnerable. Like a prey animal that'd been fatally wounded but not put out of its misery. Blood seeped out onto your bedding, and it was then that he rocketed off the mattress and scooped you up into his arms.

Fortunately, Scott, Jean, and Storm were already outside the door in the hall, having heard the scream. A gathering of students lingered behind them as well. Shame coursed through his veins, albeit dulled by the panic. He remembered thinking it was stupid, but after the adrenaline left his system, it was the dominant emotion he was left with. Ashamed was the only word that could describe holding the knowledge that everyone here now saw he was capable of hurting the woman he loves. Maybe he was no better than an animal.

In truth, shame was all he felt now. So much relief settled over him since you'd made it out alive. Thanks to the enhanced physical capabilities from your mutation and Jean's adequate medical skills, these scars would be the only lasting effect of the wounds.

He'd rushed you down to the infirmary faster than he'd ever moved in a non-combat situation. His feet thundered down the stairs, a part of him withering to ash with each little whimper you let out as the motion jostled your body around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Almost there. We're almost there. You're gonna be ok," he'd mumbled out thoughtlessly, saying anything he could that would bring you even a shred of comfort.

He kept your hand in his the entire time you were down there on the cold examination table. His grip stayed firm. He wouldn't let the anxiety over your well being consume him. This was his fault, and now you needed him. He didn't get to be worried or upset or anything that wasn't in support of you.

When you howled in pain, he winced as if he was the one being treated. You cried for him, choking out "Logan" through tears over and over. It tore him apart inside. All he could do to soothe you was stroke your cheek and murmur reassurances in your ear.

"Shh, shh, shh. You're doing so good, baby. My strong girl. Being so brave."

He usually reserved affection for private moments, but in those painful seconds, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room.

These thoughts running through his head display across his face. The way his cheek squishes against your tummy and his eyes vacantly stare at the wall opposite his bed. You told him the next day that everything transformed into a blur in your mind. You remembered the feeling of being stabbed and the sight of him panicking, but beyond that nothing specific stayed. You knew he held you and talked to you even though you couldn't recall an individual thing he said or did.

That was fine with him. He listened to you tell the story from your perspective. You spoke with your normal cadence, the usual happy glow in your eyes, and the same animated gestures coming from your hands. His eyes lingered on your torso though. The bandages peeking out from underneath your clean camisole he'd changed you into.

Every last detail of the incident was etched into the deepest part of his psyche. Most likely stored away as material for future nightmares. As much as he hated it, he figured that's the way it should be. He didn't deserve the peace that comes with forgetting.

For the first week after it'd happened, he wouldn't sleep with you. He'd stay with you, cuddled against your body, until you drifted off. Then he'd get up and skulk back to his own room, leaving you cold and alone on your bed.

Eventually after a few more days, you got him to try it out again, but he'd only do it in his own room. It was hard for him to be in yours. New sheets covered your foamy mattress now since the blood wouldn't wash out of the old set. Each brush of the novel material against his skin was just a rose-printed reminder of what he'd done to you.

He's snapped out of his recollection when your voice returns to the original conversation.

"None of that stuff happened though. You didn't kill me, and you're not going to. I'll be more careful next time," you break the silence with a gentle reassurance.

Next time. That's what hurts the worst. You knew this would happen again. You'd promised that when it did you wouldn't try to wake him. Wouldn't touch him or do anything that could set him off. Just give him his space and let him work through it.

"I don't even want you worrying about being careful when you're trying to sleep," he grumbles.

Your nails scrape over his scalp, making his eyes flutter. A deep sigh leaves him. As much as he hated himself for all of this, he could never help easing up under your touch.

"You're worth it."

Three words you said so often. He never believed them, but that didn't stop you from repeating them like a slogan. Instead of arguing with you over the validity of the statement, he stays silent. Replaces any verbal response with a physical one by nuzzling into the warmth of your stomach and laying kisses around your navel.

You watch the affectionate gesture and trail your fingers down to the nape of his neck, massaging the tender skin there.

"You are," you whisper, "One mistake doesn't define you. Doesn't change how I see you."

"It's not just a simple mistake-" he starts.

"Yes it is," you interject, trying to nip his self doubt in the bud.

"It's not. It's not like I forgot your birthday or left my wallet behind when taking you out."

"It's still an accident. The severity doesn't change the intention. Would you hate me if my powers acted up and hurt you?"

God, you could be just as stubborn as him. It grated on his already frayed nerves. He shifts to look up at you fully. And some of that building tension dissolves upon seeing the earnest look on your face.

"It's not the same. Anything you did to me, I would heal," he says.

"I'm healing too. I'm just not as fast as you," you respond. You actually smile as if this is some lighthearted matter. Of course you knew it wasn't the same. You presented no danger to him whereas if he'd nicked you an inch to the left, he might be talking to your headstone right now instead of you. That wasn't the point though.

He shakes his head. "It's different, bub. But I'm not even saying you should hate me..." 

In truth, he didn't know what he was saying. If he wanted you to hate him or stay away from him, he could be the one to break things off. But he was still right here, arms wrapped around you and head hovering inches away from your body.

"I just think you should be more cautious than you're being," he finishes, "I don't want you to think you have to put up with this."

You frown and pet his hair. "I don't think that."

"I'm not trying to lecture you, baby," he sighs, "I just don't want to hurt you again."

He could certainly flaunt a pair of puppy eyes when he wanted to. The way he was looking up at you now made him seem so sad and wounded. Like a dog who can't control when he bites but gets kicked aside for it all the same.

"You're not going to. We'll be careful. It was an accident," you say, tone almost pleading, "You're still my Logan."

To go along with your words, you pull on one of his arms, beckoning him closer. He complies with your request and scales your body so that the two of you are aligned. You stare up into his eyes and the whirlpools of emotion within them. Your hand lands on his cheek, your thumb stroking back and forth in small swipes.

"I'm not gonna let you pull away cause of this," you whisper, "It wasn't your fault. You don't choose to have those dreams."

You can tell he wants to argue, but he struggles to find the words. Indirectly cutting him off, you guide his head closer to yours. His face slots against the crook of your neck, and yours does the same in his. You nuzzle him there, breathing in the rich, musky scent of him.

"You're not wrong for wanting to be happy. You don't deserve to be alone," you say and kiss below his ear.

The words make him ache from within. His metal bones vibrate with the weight of possibility of that being true while his heartbeat feels as though it stutters between his ribs. He wants to huff and say that he knows, that he doesn't need you psychoanalyzing him, thank you very much. But none of that will come out. So instead he chuckles. He tries to make it sound smooth; although, the awkwardness is apparent in each bit.

He pulls back a little and smirks down at you. "So you think I'm cut out for being gentle? Is that it?"

You know what he's doing. As closed off as he tries to be, you don't need telepathy to sense what he's feeling. You let him play it off with a joke though. If he's joking, he's not drowning in self-pity, which is all you want.

"Mhm, I know you are," you say and nose at his cheek, kissing the spot on it without facial hair, "You may have claws, but you purr like a kitten when I have my hands on you."

His eyes roll when you say that. He leans down and begins to return some of your loving gestures.

"Don't go telling people that. It's only for you," he murmurs.

"Of course, of course," you say with the same subtle playfulness.

Words die out in favor of using your mouths for better things. The kisses are lazy, built more off of love and adoration rather than lust and passion. One of your arms loops over his shoulders to keep him close while your other rubs at his side. The tip of his nose brushes your earlobe as he lowers to kiss down your throat.

His lips meet your pulse point and the divots in your neck that make you shudder when touched. He's familiar with all your secret spots by now. He plays you better than any instrument. His breath fans over your skin as his teeth scrape against the same flesh. His hands work below, squeezing your waist, fingertips leaving little bumps in their wake.

The hand of yours that had been on his side drifts further down and wiggles its way between your two bodies. Your digits stroke his pelvis above the area his cock would soon begin to harden.

A groan reverberates through his chest as his shaft rises to attention. From this angle, the pads of your fingers can reach the tip. You rub on it with light pressure, up and down. That gets him to repeat the groan, only this time the undertone of need is more prominent.

His lips latch onto your neck to work a little mark onto your skin while he pushes the waistband of his sweatpants down his thighs. You were only wearing a cropped t-shirt and panties, already easily accessible.

He nudges your thighs apart further and grinds his bulge over your mound. The heat from both your aching centers grows hotter with the friction. Arching your back off the bed, you whimper softly for further satisfaction. He presses you back down using his larger stature.

"Patience, sweetheart. Being gentle, remember?"

He only teases you with a few more grinds of his hips before his boxers vanish too and his heavy cock rests against the soft fabric of your panties. You feel the familiar thickness at first. Then his fingers swoop down and pull your panties to the side so he can slot the drippy tip against your folds. Precum smears against your slick, velvety skin.

Seconds later he splits you open. He bites his lip while you whine, his fat cock pushing further into your wanting hole. You squeeze around him. Your walls clamp and contract on his length. It doesn't push him out, merely sucks him further in. He chokes out a low moan from how tight you get.

So tight and so wet. Arousal oozes from you in no short supply. It didn't take much to get you going for Logan. A few touches alone had you leaking like a broken faucet. You whimper as he bottoms out, hips jerking as the head taps your cervix. He always gets so deep it's nearly unbearable. Even when he's going slow like he is now, he's all you can think of. He fills you up down there and occupies all the space in your head.

"Feel good, baby?" he asks.

You nod, unable to respond verbally as you adjust to the intrusion. 

He doesn't give you a prolonged period of time to adapt right now. Normally he would, but most other times, he'd be going much faster than he plans to at this moment. Typically, he'd let you get comfy with the stretch before drawing his hips back and then pumping them forward again. He'd slam in and out of you. It'd be loud with the sound of skin clapping combined with your moans and his growls. It'd be rough and quick. The bed would shake and bobble around with the force of him.

But tonight, none of that happens. He barely even pulls out to thrust. He stays nice and deep, grinding his hips rather than fucking himself in and out of you. You whine in sweet stretches of sound. He sighs and grunts against your neck. Neither of you sound like feral animals going into heat.

You loved when you fucked like that, but right now, both of you needed this. Each roll of his hips felt like a stroke of heaven brushing your insides. Your limbs curl around him tighter to keep him close. Your arms guard his neck while your legs dig into his hips. He's so lost in the feeling of you, he can't even tell where he ends and you begin.

"Tell me how it feels. Need to hear you. Wanna know I'm doing it how you need," he mumbles.

"Feels perfect," you whimper in return, "So fuckin' deep."

"Good. I only ever wanna make you feel good."

You nod, knowing it's the truth. "Anyone can hurt me, but only you know how to make me feel like this."

His eyes scrunch up at your words. He just feels lucky he has his face buried against your skin so you can't see. It had been just what he needed to hear. Boosting himself onto his knees a bit more to gain some leverage, he grips your hips and ruts against you with the slightest bit more force.

You whine at the soothing rhythm in which your bodies rock. The sense of satisfaction brought on from this took root in the deepest pit of your belly. You weren't gonna explode like you often did. Probably wouldn't scream or scratch up his back. But you could tell you were gonna cum hard.

Without saying it, he communicates he feels the same. His lack of usual dirty talk tells you everything you need to know. His cock stays nestled deep inside your pussy as he works you both to the edge. His face remains flush against your neck.

You cum first, and he follows right behind. You tighten up, toes curling and a high mewl echoing out of your throat. Your body shivers. He spills his release inside of you, his energy leaving with the sticky ropes of cum that fire.

He goes boneless on top of you, still cherishing the feeling of your skin on his. His breaths feel cool against your sweating skin.

"My baby," he sighs. His eyes flutter shut. He knows he has to pull out before he knocks out for a while, but he can do that in a second. He just needs a few more minutes of this.

You press a few kisses to the side of his head and rub his back. His hand slides between both your abdomen to touch the scars, reminding himself what he's capable of despite his current tenderness.

After a few moments, he pulls out and slumps to the side of you. You peck his lips and take the acquisition of space as a way to cool off. His eyes are drooping already. It feels good seeing him so relaxed. You kiss the space between his brows, then the bridge of his knows, and end on his lips.

"Sweet dreams," you whisper, wishing that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay. At least for tonight.

[syoddeye]

oh ho ho! so simon calls and asks the bartender out...what are we thinking? does he go all out trying to prove he actually isn't a loser and can pull off a suave date? or does he purposefully plan the most off-putting date possible to get back at her for being a pain in the ass?

prev.

i love that you think he's going to call right away. nope.

simon sends some version of you up? after close, then stews for hours when you don't reply. he sits in the dark, phone in hand, grumbling to himself. the cigarette between his fingers burns low, barely making it to the ashtray before he lights another.

he lasts three days. three nights of drinking alone at home, refusing to go to the pub and show his face. the thought crosses his mind to go elsewhere, where it'd take him all of fifteen minutes to find a bit of skirt, but somehow, you've gone and sucked the thrill out of that.

his pride keeps him tethered in place, stubborn to a fault, but even that has its limits. on the third night, the ashtray beside him overflowing, he finally caves. he calls.

"so you can follow instructions. i was worried i'd have to draw you a picture."

he doesn't waste time. "sent ya an address. i can be there in ten." 

"yeah, i looked it up. looks like a classy joint. free wifi." 

"…you comin' or not?" 

"mm, got a policy. can't sleep anywhere lower than three stars." 

"s'not for sleepin'." 

"then let's do yours. got a bed frame?"

simon straightens, caught off guard. that's unexpected—that you're game. he expected more of a fuss, but if you're just in it for dick, things are back on track.

he glances at his bed. the rumpled dark blue sheets are half-pulled off the mattress, still on the floor where he's always kept it. it's never mattered before, but no one's ever been here, either. hotels keep it impersonal. neutral ground. they reinforce the rules. they do the cleaning.

"can't. i'll come over." 

"oof, i've got another policy." you chuckle. "can't have someone over until we've gone on an actual date. you know, to make sure they're normal. or close to it." 

you have no idea.

he imagines sitting across a table in some overpriced restaurant, squeezed into a tiny chair, with loud music pounding in his ears. wasting money on drinks and food. all that just to stare at the tits he knows you're going to hide underneath some layers while you make small talk. it makes his skin itch.

but. if your stupid little 'policies' don't exist solely to jerk him around, he'll earn passage into your world. your place. unknown territory, somewhere to plant a flag and humble you all at once.

forget his lack of a bed frame, he hasn't had a bird in her own bed in ages.

"fine. tomorrow."

"sunday," you counter, and he hears the grin in your voice. "i'm off monday. send me a better address, and i'll meet you there. no french food."

he scoffs. "that, we can agree on."

you laugh, teasing. "bring that with you—the sense of humor. you're gonna need it."

[erwinsvow]

omg please do something about comforting rafe after his shitty day, like him trying shed a tear while laying on ur chest while u scratch his back and him being all needy for ur touch like nuzzling his nose into ur neck ughhh 🫣🫣

being nice to rafe was all too easy for you, even though he never felt like he deserved it.

you don't know exactly what had happened today. you'd been out with friends and then home with your family all day, but only because rafe had been busy. you knew it wasn't necessarily good, but you'd drop your plans in a heartbeat if rafe was free.

so you had gone all day without him—which was fine. you were able to handle it, you'd even had a good day.

but you had forgotten something—something important. so concerned with your own dependency on rafe and how much you wanted to see him, but still trying to behave as normally as possible around him, you didn't remember that rafe had also gone all day without you.

and normally, he could handle that too. if he was having a good day.

bad days without you were something entirely different for rafe, something close to unbearable. he couldn't pinpoint exactly why or when this had started, but over time, it had turned into a beast of its own.

even thinking about it made him angry. all rafe knew was that if he didn't see you in the next ten minutes, he was either going to break a door or break someone's bones.

and you, like the good girl you are, come open your door the second you hear rafe's truck pull up. it doesn't take long for you to see something's wrong, inviting rafe inside and both of you staying silent while you get up to your bedroom.

a haven of soft blankets and sweet-smelling candles, your room is your safe space. you hadn't realized it was rafe's too.

the thing with you and rafe has been, for some time now, that you don't need words to communicate all the time. sometimes looking at each other is enough to tell the other what's going on, and today was one of those times.

when rafe comes in, you close the door gently behind the two of you and then take a seat on the bed. he's still standing at the foot of the bed, and you glance up.

rafe looks, more than anything, tired. and you don't need to know why, or what caused it, or to ask him what's wrong. you just need him to feel better.

you take his hand in yours, smiling up at him when he finally glances down. you move up, resting against the headboard and trying to make as much space as possible for your boyfriend, even though he can never fit on your bed. still holding his hand, you tug it until he comes and joins you.

with still no words, you let him rest his head on your chest, running your fingers through his hair. at first he just lays there but after a few minutes, you feel his hands snake around your waist, hearing a small sigh of what you hope is relief. and knowing that he feels better, you feel a little better too.

the two of you stay like that for a while—though you don't mind. you don't want it to end. rafe is always taking care of you and this feels like your chance to take care of him.

when rafe finally shuffles and gets up to sit beside you, you hear a quiet sniffle and look down to see some wet marks on your shirt. you immediately look up at rafe, taking his hand into yours again.

"it's gonna be okay, rafe." you really mean it, and you hope he believes you.

"yeah," he clears his throat and you look away, focusing on the pattern of your quilt. rafe lifts your face towards him, fingers moving to your jaw and tilting you in his direction, before he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. "thanks, kid."

[no-144444]

was it casual?-l.norris

Day 28 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: the seriousness of your relationship wasn't exactly clear... leading to unforseen circumstances... (18+)

mdni (18+ smut) (ur responsible for the content you consume, not me)

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He walked into his empty apartment. Monaco was a town where you either knew people, or you didn’t. He knew people, but people knew him more. Max F was busy, Carlos was in Spain with family, Oscar was over in England to see Lily, Alex was off supporting Lily in a tournament, George was with Carmen in Austria, Max (V) was too busy with streaming and fighting the FIA, and that left him all alone. 

His life had been getting quieter since the start of last season. People checked in less, his mental health went downhill, everyone has their eyes on him now. It had been months of lonely interactions, wasted opportunities, and a job that was slowly ripping him apart. He had to win, he had to be the best. 

Then there was a knock at the door. The tension in his shoulders dissipated, a smile made its way onto his lips, and he forgot about his troubles. 

You were here. 

He opened the door with a bright smile, and there you stood with his favourite takeout. The only person who made him feel normal. 

“Hey baby,” he smiled, letting you in. You stepped inside, placing the food on the table. “How was your day?”

“Busy, but better now,” you smiled and pressed your lips to his softly. “You?”

His heart warmed slightly. He never thought he’d be one of those guys. One of those guys who loved their girlfriend 7 months in, but here he was, heart eyes and all. 

“Busy, but better now,” he replied. You chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“What’d you do?��� You asked. 

“Some simming, training, meetings and other boring shit,” He yawned. “Tired now.”

You nodded. 

“You?”

“Down in court today, Rich is doing well, I think the judge likes us,” you explained, mindlessly picking the carrots out of his dish and putting them in your own. “Don’t know if we’ll win though.”

“You will,” he answered definitively. “You’re the best solicitor ever.”

“I’m not a full solicitor yet,” you reminded him. 

“Still the best,” he shrugged. 

“Come on sleepyhead, have some food and we can go to bed,” you chuckled. He sat beside you at the table, and you two chatted about your days, not even bothering to clean up before collapsing into his bed. 

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You two had met at a bar in Monaco, you were friendly with Pietra due to a few yoga classes you’d done together, and Lando had been obsessed with you since then. You’d gone on a few dates that mostly ended with you in his bed or vice versa, and recently it had turned into more of a relationship. He hadn’t asked you out yet. He wasn’t your boyfriend. You hadn’t been on a proper date in months. It was confusing. You thought it was just casual. You really liked him, but he thought this was just casual, didn’t he? I mean, what would an F1 driver want with a regular law student in Monaco just starting her traineeship? He wasn’t your boyfriend, right? 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You woke up with his arms around you, and quickly shuffled out of his bed. You got dressed, cleaned up after dinner from the night before, and off you went. Saturday, you had a lunch date with a few friends, and some errands to run. 

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Lando woke up cold and alone. It wasn’t crazily unusual for him to wake up alone when you’d stay over, but you’d usually tell him that you had an early morning, or something to stop you two from having a lazy morning. He checked the time, 10am. You must’ve left recently. He cursed himself for being such a heavy sleeper, and for sleeping so well when you were with him. He shot you a text about tonight. He knew it was slightly pathetic that he didn’t have anyone else to hang out with other than his busy girlfriend, but he didn’t really care. It was a great chance as well, since his parents were in town and might be able to swing by dinner. He knew it was early on, but he loved you, and he planned on telling you soon. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

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A knock on the door, a familiar routine. He should probably give you a key. 

“Hey baby,” he smiled. 

“Hey Lando,” you smiled. “Sorry I was later than usual, the traffic was crazy and I didn’t want to cancel on you and-”

“So this is the girlfriend?” Adam, Lando’s dad, asked, a bright smile on his face. Your face fell. His parents were sitting right there, staring at you, looking at you, and they thought you were his girlfriend. He must’ve thought someone else was behind the door, maybe he’d cancelled and you didn’t get the text and his actual girlfriend was behind you and you were about to be kicked out and blocked, maybe-

“This is her,” Lando smiled, ushering you in. You shot him a look of confusion. He shot you one back. He took your coat and bag, and led you over to the table with a kiss on the cheek, his parents watching the whole display. 

“So Y/n, what do you do?” Cisca asked. 

“I’m a solicitor in training,” you explained. “Sorry that I was late, the traffic was insane and my firm is across the-”

“It’s fine,” she smiled. “We only got here 10 minutes ago.”

“Ok, good,” you chuckled nervously. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

And with that, the dinner began. It was a maze of questions, jokes, and slight teasing, but by the end, you’d thought you did quite well. They didn’t seem to completely hate you yet, so that was good. As Lando closed the door on them, you put your head in your hands and groaned. 

“I’m sorry I sprung that on you, it’s just… they were in town, a-and they wanted to meet you so badly-”

“It’s fine,” you shook your head. “I just… I didn’t know I was your girlfriend,” you told him honestly. 

His eyes darkened, a hint of possessiveness playing behind them. “How did you not think you were my girlfriend?” “Well, for one, you never fucking asked me to be your girlfriend. Two, it doesn’t exactly make sense considering I’m just a law student, and you’re a fucking F1 driver. Three-” he cut you off with a kiss. 

He kissed you hard and heavy, pulling you into his arms, his grip bordering on bruising. “Jump,” he whispered against your lips. You obliged, jumping and wrapping your legs around his torso. He brought you to his bedroom, all but throwing you on the bed and rushing to take off his clothes as you took off yours. He got to work, finger swirling through your core as he watched your reactions. 

“So good Lan,” you whined, nails digging into his shoulders. 

“You fuck anyone else?” he asked, harshly scissoring his fingers into your entrance. 

“No-fuck- j-just you. Only you-shit!” you moaned. 

He smirked, lowering his face to your pussy. “Good girl,” he quipped, kissing at your clit as you moaned his name. You were his, he was yours. He needed to remind you of that. 

You were hot all over, desperate to finally get that release, but he was going too slowly. “Lan, quicker, please,” you whined, more than needy. You tugged at his hair, grinding down on his face as he smirked. It felt fucking amazing, his nose, his tongue, all of it. It was too much and too little all at the same time. You whined in frustration at the loss of contact when he pulled away, leaving you unsatisfied. He flipped you over, ass in the air on his bed and smacked your ass. “Lan-!”

Buried to the hilt in one thrust. Lando was clearly not fucking around tonight. “You’re doing so well baby.” he smirked. “Want you to cum on my cock.”

You nodded, letting him take what he wanted from you. 

“My fucking girl, isn’t that right?”

“Yes! Yes!” you moaned. 

“Fuck, good fucking girl, y’gonna cum on my cock?” 

“Yes! Yes!” you groaned, muffled by the sheets. 

“Who’s fucking you right now?” he thrust harder, messily kissing your neck. 

“You!” you screamed, getting closer and closer to your high. 

“And what am I to you sweetheart?” he gritted out. 

“M-my boyfriend!” you finally came around him, walls tightening as you moaned. He came shortly after, groaning as he pulled out of you. 

“You alright?” he asked, a bright smile on his face. You nodded softly, too exhausted to speak. “Did so good,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek and left to grab some glasses of water, and a towel to clean you both up with.  It wasn’t just casual.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi @linnygirl09 @lanadelray1989 @teamnovalak @gleeblegnarp

[ikkosu]

Omg are you into sentinel x reader? I've been imagining a scenario where reader is one of the cogless bot he decided to kept as a 'trophy wife' (but more like a pet) to boost up public opinion

spoilers!!! (Not direct spoilers, but just tread safely in case.)

Pookie I am into anything involving sentinel, (my favorite being sentinel x my fist and back shots) ANYWAYS THAT IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA have you seen the size difference between normal bots and the miners?????? Its so delicious. Jazz was half of orion's size and he's so small djddjdjjedkekejf can imagine miner reader on sentinel's lap herhgehehehheheh and he's holding their dainty waist.

He definitely doesn't see them as an equal but I think he does kind of see them a little bit higher on the list since theyre his pet, of course. Sentinel would be astounded at how they polish their plating, being ignorant and all.

"You don't wax?"

"No."

"Right, so not even a little?"

".... No?"

"Unbelievable."

Yeah, he's um a little out of touch. So, he takes it upon himself to 'take care of them' and 'fix them' in other words, haha lol I control what you do so it's best you shut up or I'll send you back to the mines. Or, possibly killed becuase have you seen the size of this guy????

He could just grab you by the neck and boom, broken like a twig.

He's enamored by the idea that he's good husband material and would flaunt you at interviews with ridiculous, made up stories about the two of you. About how he loves coming home and seeing his conjux, 'crying' about not seeing them often because he's got 'prime duties' as he puts it. Airachnid palys as his witness by staring off into space becuase it's all bullshit.

I would imagine he'd still allow them to work so that the miners get the idea that even the Prime's conjux is working at the mines!!! So why shouldn't they?

But the moment you come back he's snatching you up and throwing you into that bathtub like Pokemon go.

You're not an idiot. You know what he's doing and playing along is better than rotting in the mines. And, besides you always knew there was something off with the prime. Cue, reader having mini subplot of unfolding his intentions!!!

This kind of scenario goes two ways, it's either sentinel picked up miner reader and put on his facade for as long as possible, being too nice but also passive aggressive and showing his streaks of aggression and ego, or he could just pick them up, already showing his true self, although I would imagine he wouldn't really yk show show his true entire intentions

Itd be funny if he fell, heads over heels first. Not because he likes you or anything, but becuase he's lonely? I mean being a prime is a lonely job and eventually he believes the facade he puts on and has some kind of crises around it which kind of makes him a little more dangerous. Becuase now you're the biggest fattest weakness to his ego and he doesn't like vulnerabilities.

He might just kill you. Its not like you can run, right?

[kissesfordaryl]

intertwined, sewn together.

daryl dixon & his lover best friend.

(soft daryl hcs bc i love him)

daryls first instinct is to push you away. he felt that the rest of the group saw through him and only recognized his brother, but not you. never you. he didnt know why you were so nice to him- didnt even believe that you were genuine. but you persisted and eventually managed to weasel your way past his walls, following him everywhere he went. he realizes that hes most true to himself when hes with you.

you two are practically attached to the hip, never seen without each other. half the time youre not even doing anything special, only being in each others presence. as soon as youre away from him, hes asking around to see where youve gone.

you loved sneaking away from the rest of the group and into the forest, following the sounds of rushing water or watching the wildlife scurry past. although daryl knew the woods better than you, he let you lead the way.

as you secure a spot along the river, he settles in besides you, knees knocking against yours, his crossbow forgotten to the side. you pretend not to notice, but sometimes he'll stare at you for moments on end, a small smile forming.

youre basically the only one who can make him laugh- full on belly laugh. your arm is draped around his shoulders as you whisper jokes no one else can catch, and then hes doubling over in concealed laughter, a hand coming up to hide his smile.

its always just been normal to share everything between you, from food to deodorant to blankets to tents to beds to drinks. there was no yours or his. just an ours.

as new additions to the group come along, they always get the impression of daryl being rather intimidating or quiet. theyre always surprised when he sees him with you: laughing like a school-kid and bickering over something stupid.

no one else is surprised when he shows up wearing your clothes and getting defensive at all the stares hed be getting. "what? all my clothes are dirty, s'not my fault."

he only lets either carol or you call him stupid nicknames. the stupider it gets, the more funny.

one time on a run, you found these matching necklaces. he scoffs when you hand it to him, but makes you put it on for him. hes never seen without it again- and will lose his shit if he loses it.

most of the time, he'll listen to you babble on about whatever, but he could talk your ear off just as much. you laughed at how expressive he could get, hands waving around as he explained his distaste to a certain topic.

no one knows when you got together, in fact they like to make bets on it- but one random day youre leaning down to press a kiss to his lips like youve been doing that forever- and everyone just continues on.

while i was making this it crashed and didnt save so i had to write this twice.. (p.s. ive got a couple requests so know im working on all of them! just wanted to post something.. i write super slow sorry 😭)

[bluerosefox]

Taking a Chance

I want more TaliaxDanny stuff so how about this AU. Its mostly HEAVILY hinted though.

[Side note: Danny is in his 20s, maybe mid 20s btw, also enjoy my actual writing style, haven't done this in a while besides some small snippets I write]

Talia discovers the future plans Ra's has for her baby, her heir, her child. She is hurt and enraged because "How dare he! How dare he raise my son to be a sacrificial lamb just to extend his own life!" And the fact he had no plans to truly step down from being the Demon Head. (Basically the timeline where Ra's planned to overtake Damain's body)

-x-x-

Talia stared, her green eyes almost glowing toward the sleeping form of her son on her bed. Her eyes roamed his tiny face, the way he lightly dozed the day away unknowingly of the danger that had set in stone for him. Yes, being not just her son but the son of the Bat and the grandson of the Demon Head he was always going to be in danger but never had she really thought the danger would come from the very person who just declared him his heir. At least not in the way its been presented.

Talia had just discovered the fate her father, Ra's al Ghul, the same man that had held Damian not even a day ago and spoke of the future he could see Damian bring to the League once he was of age and would lead it, had actually planned for her son.

He planned on using her son, raising him to be the perfect heir.... to... to...

Use him as a vessel in the end.

He planned to leave his old decaying body, a body that was beginning to no longer respond to the Lazarus Pits as of late, and basically jump ship to a younger and better body...

The body of her son. The son she created and craved to have and raise. The son she made with her beloved's blood running in his veins.

Despite how enraged she is' Talia knows she can't confront her father. He would kill her... no he would torture her by hurting her baby to the point death would be a mercy if she tried. She also knows she can't go running to Bruce, she had burned the bridge to him ages ago when she refused to leave her father and his teachings and knows he would rip Damian away from her should she tell him what she did. He would, under the guise of protecting their child gain sole custody from Talia, set up next to nothing visitation rights for her to follow. He would say it would be to protect Damian from Ra's but Talia knows Bruce, knows he would use it as a half-excuse just to keep her away... but Talia wants to be in her child's life. Wants to raise him. Wants to be his mother, despite knowing next to nothing on how to be an actual normal mother, she wanted to try. She needed to try.

Running away was also out of the question, especially since Damian had been declared her father 'heir'. He would hunt them down and there was no where in this world she could hide that her father could not find them...

And-

Talia barely gives any warning when she flings the knife behind her. She waited for only a second, either to hear the ting of metal being blocked or the sound of it burying itself onto the wooden door she knew was in its pathway.

Instead she heard neither of those things and instead heard the ticking of a grandfather clock and a deep chuckle.

"As expected from the daughter of the Demon. Sharp and deadly with no hesitation in sight."

"Who are you." It was not a question but a demand. She slowly turned her head and was meet with an odd sight that even the daughter of the Demon has never seen before.

"At most.. an ally to have. At worst, merely a passing stranger with an offer."

The ticking never stopped.

Everything else outside the room though did.

-x-x-

Danny stared, his currently green eyes burning even more brightly than they normally do. Many emotions passed through them, anger, frustration, pain, sadness, regret, heartbreak, and hopelessness to name a few.

He stared at the tiny sleeping face within the healing pod in front of him and closed his eyes as memories of spending time with the one sleeping filled his mind.

"My King." A voice began, Danny's sharp pointed ears twitch for a moment and he turned his head slightly but it was all the speaker needed to know that they had his attention even if he didn't give them his full attention.

"I bring the updated reports from Chief Frostbite you requested." The young yeti ghost said, this had Danny finally turning around and looking upwards and towards the young yeti, who was smaller than Frostbite but none the less bigger than Danny. Danny held his hand out and took the stack of papers in their hands.

Once the papers were in his hands he gave a curt wave of his fingers as if to say 'go on' without actually saying the words and turned his attention to the words on the papers. The young yeti, Icewinds took the signal and began.

"Princess Danielle's core has remained the same since the last check up. No major sign of deteriorating or destabilizing... However that also means there have been no signs of improvement or healing as well..." Icewinds stopped for a moment, allowing their King to register the words being spoken "We will continue to monitor her as best as we can but... My King..."

Icewinds took a deep breath and delivered the news everyone already knew "Without a female donor to complete her Ecto-DNA, should the Princess suffers from another Fading even a minor one, I fear it might be too much for her core and with her current body form it will not be able to withstand the stress... I'm truly sorry My King."

The room fell silent, the only real sounds being the monitors in the room and sound of rustling papers in Danny's hands, who was staring blankly at the words written on them but not really taking them in.

After a moment, Icewinds shifting uncomfortably for a second, Danny spoke his voice raw but strong and firm "I understand. Please inform Frostbite I am... grateful for his, yours, and everyone's continued support and everything everyone's has done to help her... If you do not mind Icewinds, I would... Like to be alone for a while and think... For a moment."

"O-Of course My King." And with that Icewinds left the room, Danny barely taking not of the door closing and his enhanced hearing picking up the hushed soft words being spoken to the Knights that stood outside the room of Danny's request of being left alone for a while.

Once the talking outside the room faded, Danny tilted his body and head back on the chair he had been sitting in for the last few days and allowed the papers he had his hands to fall out and onto the floor. Danny took in a shaky breath and closed his burning eyes as he tried to keep his core emotions in control, knowing if he lost control the Realms would echo him and would panic or worry his people.

And he couldn't deal with that. Not now.

"Clockwork, whatever timeline you are trying to set in motion, I hope it pans out soon." Danny rasped out as he tried his best to keep himself from falling apart. Losing Danielle, losing the girl that was his clone, his mirror, but also was like a sister... daughter sometimes would break him, harshly and deeply.

He knew his advisor and resident Timekeeper had something in the works, the way the aging spirit had looked at him before he left was telling when the news of Danielle's suffering from another Fading attack and Frostbite having to perform a Core Transform nearly last second, which in turn turned her into a baby from how close she was to fully Fading, had been delivered to Danny and the others.

But despite knowing Clockwork had a plan, Danny knew that smile he had before he had left. It had been Clockwork's 'Have hope, but even I am unsure.' smile, a rare one the Timekeeper would wear when even he didn't know which way the pendulum of chance would swing first.

So he did the only thing he could do for now, and that was to remain in the room with Danielle, keep her stabilized as best as he could with his own ectoplasim flowing, and wait to see if whatever Clockwork had planned would work out.

Waiting, even with all he's done in his life from becoming a Halfa, to defending his home and haunt, from fighting off insane Fruitloops to dismantling government bigots until there was nothing left of them, all the way to fighting a tyrannicidal Ghost King to the point Danny had won the crown by Trail by Combat thus taking up the mantle of Ghost King of the Infinite Realms since his seventeenth birthday and bringing the Infinite Realms into a new age of healing the broken crumbling lands and ruling over all justly but firmly, waiting was all he could do for Danielle.

And the waiting. The stress. Was agonizing.

Because what they needed was...

Was a miracle if Danny was to be honest. They needed a female, a donor in all sense of the words, to complete Danielle's incomplete Ecto-DNA, because of course that damned Fruitloop tried skipping steps in creating a clone of Danny and it was no wonder he had failed so many times with only Danielle the most stable of them all and given the fact she still wasn't was damning, but they couldn't just have any female donate their DNA to her.

No the DNA needed the donor to at least be limenal, thus turning the DNA into Ecto-DNA because Danielle was created to be a halfa... The only problem was that the person in question needed to be Jazz level of limenal Ecto-DNA as well.

Meaning that despite both Sam and Val offering their Ecto-DNA from the years of being exposed to the Realms and Ectoplasim theirs wasn't enough to work with Danielle's. Jazz's Ecto-DNA was off the table seeing as she was his sister and mixing it with Danielle's would just lead to problems.

No they needed someone who was born near or in ectoplasm, breathed it, ate or at least filtered it, grew with it for years like Jazz and Danny did, basically the person in question just needed one odd day of dying and returning to life at the same time to becoming a halfa levels of limenal. Only those high levels could complete and combined with Danielle's.

Which given the fact only Jazz had those levels, finding someone near those levels was like looking for needle in space, because forget the haystack.

"....You've returned." Was the only words Danny said when his ears caught the sound of a ticking clock suddenly in the room, his anxiety raising as both dread and a tiny slimmer of hope both slowly climb up in his emotions, knowing whatever answer Clockwork would give him would outweigh the other.

"On time, as always My King." His cryptic Timekeeper responded "I bring... a chance."

Those words were enough to snap Danny out of his chair, he quickly looked towards where Clockwork's voice had been coming from and floated. His eyes burning with determination for a moment before he caught sight of movement behind Clockwork.

Behind the ever changing being stood a breathtaking woman. Tall and proud from the way she held herself, she looked a few years older than him but Danny could sense she was far older her soul not really matching her body. She was lovely to look at no doubt but deadly, very deadly and that was something else Danny could sense after all he was the Ghost King.

And she wasn't alone for in her arms was a baby, roughly the same age that Danielle had been de-aged to as well.

Danny blinked at them when he noticed something.

She...

She was limenal.

Very limenal. Even more limenal than Jazz.

In fact both of them were.

"I would like you to meet Lady Talia al Ghul and her son Damian, My King." Clockwork said as he gave a tiny bow towards the woman who stepped forward, a frown on her face she took in Danny's features and her eyes darting towards Danielle's healing pod for a moment, Danny could see she was tensed and a little weary from no doubt everything so far.

".... Welcome Lady Talia to the Infinite Realms. I am King Phantom." Danny greeted, his many years of training with other royalties coming forward as second nature now, he wasn't some normal teen from the middle of the Mid-West after all. "Has Clockwork told you the reasoning as to why you have been... chosen?"

He honestly would put it past Clockwork to be cryptic about the reasoning, but he hoped he hadn't because Danny really didn't want to explain the importance of it all and why they needed to hurry. And judging by the roll of his eyes Clockwork knew what Danny had been meaning as well.

"Yes King Phantom" Talia spoke, her voice rich and silky that sent a tiny shiver up Danny's spine from the sound "You need my DNA to help heal your clone. Should it be successful however it will change her from being merely a clone to instead into becoming yours and mine daughter."

"Correct." Was Danny's response, short and to the point. He needed her answer now if they wanted to save even a fragment of Danielle's core.

The room fell silent again, each them of taking a moment to think.

But eventually Talia spoke. Her voice steady and strong.

"I will offer my aid to you and yours... But only if you swear to both me and my son that we will be given sanctuary from my father and any who dares harm us for the blood that runs in our veins."

Danny only had one answer to that as his eyes caught hers.

Because despite being the Ghost King Phantom nowadays. He had once been Danny Phantom whose core started as a protector spirit and could sense the honestly of needing safety in her words.

"Yes."

-x-x-

Clockwork watched and smiled at the two adults in the room as they continued to stare at each other.

He knew he had been cutting it close, waiting for Talia to be at the ends of ropes and needing a chance to finally leave her deadly and abusive father without the toxic strings attached her ex would tie around her under the guise of safety for their son.

Turning his attention away from the two as they began to speak terms, Clockwork cast his gaze towards an window in the room and stared out of it, smile still on his face as glimpses of the rare future he saw slowly rose up more frequently.

Danny and Talia slowly and surely working together to raise not just Danielle, or rather Ellie as they renamed her since she was no longer a clone of Danny, but also Damian together. Passing them off as twins to those outside the Realms or Amity Park.

Talia learning to release the toxic love she had towards Bruce Wayne, and understand if someone truly loved you for you, they would demand sudden change from the only way of life one knows. That since she was no longer the thumb of her father she could finally be free to be herself.

Danny learning that despite being crowned so early in his life, that the weight of the crown didn't need to be carried alone. Sure he had his friends and family but Danny needed someone, someone who understood the weight of the feeling of needing to wear it head held high. And who better to help teach that than the woman who had to carry the name Daughter of the Demon Head herself.

The two growing closer and closer. Until fondness changed and shifted into more. As they raised the two infants with laughter and joy and love.

Ellie getting a kiss from Talia on the forehead when she had a nightmare and seeked her mother out for comfort. Toddler Damian riding Cujo around the castle as he copied Fright Knight after watching him ride off, Danny floating right by him making sure he didn't fall off. Ellie learning how to fight not just from her mother but from her idol Pandora. Damian learning to identify the stars and their names from the man he saw, and later wished was, his father. Ellie and Damian building pillow forts in the library and reading all manners of stories to each other. Danny and Talia holding their tiny hands as they took them to their first day of school within Amity Park their joyful laughter bringing soft smiles on their parents faces.

Danny holding a crying Talia as she explained the things she had been taught and forced to learn by the orders of her father in the dead of night. Doing his best to calm her down as he had been taught by Jazz ages ago.

Talia standing tall and firm when the Observants tried to undermined a order, no a law Danny had set in motion that had upset the eyeballs badly. How she gathered evidence of their attempts to go against it and how they were nothing but traitors towards their King and couldn't weasel themselves out of it this time.

Clockwork smiled warmly when he caught sight of one more glimpse of this future timeline.

Talia dressed beautifully, a crown made of stars and black jewels on her head. Her son dancing with her as firm as he could but his little tongue peeking out of his mouth as he concentrated on his steps and was dressed like a tiny prince complete with a tiny crown of stars on his head as well, Talia's face held a tiny smile of love watching him try his hardest to dance correctly with her. Joyful squeals of laughter rang out as King Phantom twirled with Ellie, who was dressed like a true princess, in his arms.

Around them in the ballroom the citizens of Realms laughed, joyfully danced, sang, ate, or merely watched. For the first time in many, many years the Realms felt... Complete. Whole. Happy.

A true wonderful afterlife that all could enjoy.

Yes.

He knew waiting the last second was a long shot, for a chance that almost wasn't, but the future he saw was well worth it.

A good future. A balanced one. A happy afterlife one.

Now, all he had to do was wait for the seeds of this future to bloom.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : BODYGUARDS : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader x Platonic!Wade Wilson

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: When you come home feeling overwhelmed by college stress and a troublesome boss, Logan and Wade step in. After a heartfelt talk with Logan, they confront your boss to ensure you’re no longer troubled. With their support, you find comfort and reassurance, knowing you’re not alone in facing your challenges.

YOU HAD ALWAYS KNOWN LIFE WASN’T EASY, BUT TODAY WAS SOMETHING ELSE ENTIRELY. The stress of juggling college classes, work, and just trying to keep it all together was slowly getting the better of you. You weren’t the type to break easily, but this… this was overwhelming.

You pushed open the door to the shared apartment you lived in with Logan and Wade, your bag slung over your shoulder, your eyes cast downward. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the familiar scent of home, a mix of Logan’s woodsy cologne and Wade’s unmistakable love for chimichangas.

Wade was lounging on the couch, remote in hand, flipping through TV channels. “Hey, sport! You’re just in time to witness me obliterate Logan at Mario Kart,” he called out, grinning like a maniac.

Logan, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, raised an eyebrow at Wade, then glanced at you. Normally, you’d throw a sarcastic quip back at Wade or smile at Logan, but tonight, you couldn’t muster either. You barely looked up.

“Hey,” you mumbled, walking straight past them and into your room, shutting the door softly behind you.

Both men exchanged a look, their senses immediately on high alert.

“That’s… not normal,” Wade commented, frowning slightly. “She didn’t even call me an idiot. Do you think it’s serious?”

Logan stayed silent, eyes narrowing. The way you’d come home, shoulders slumped, weighed down by something unseen—it was enough for him to know something was deeply off.

“Let her have some space,” Logan said gruffly, though the concern in his voice was unmistakable.

Wade sat up a bit straighter. “You think it’s space she needs? Or maybe a hilarious anecdote about the time I fought a taco truck driver because he wouldn’t give me extra guac?”

Logan’s glare was sharp enough to silence even Wade for a moment. “Space,” Logan repeated firmly. “For now.”

~

Inside your room, you collapsed onto the bed, the soft comforter doing little to quell the storm brewing inside you. Your mind raced, thoughts spiraling.

Your boss at work had been on your case all week, nitpicking every little thing as if you couldn’t do anything right. Then there was that huge exam you’d studied for in your hardest class… and you had failed it. The letter ‘F’ haunted your thoughts, taunting you. Everything felt like it was crumbling, and you didn’t know how to fix it.

You hated feeling this way, like the world was slipping from your control. More than that, you hated the idea of burdening Logan or Wade with it. They had enough going on already.

A knock came at your door—light, but firm. You didn’t respond immediately, but the door cracked open slightly, revealing Logan’s rugged face. His hazel eyes were full of that familiar intensity, softened just enough to show he was concerned.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, but gentle in a way reserved just for you.

You nodded, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Logan stepped in, closing the door behind him, and came to sit beside you, his large hand finding its way to your back. His touch was warm, solid, grounding.

“You’ve been off since you walked in,” Logan started, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your back. “Wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

The dam you’d tried to keep sealed started to crack. Your throat tightened, and tears you’d been holding back pricked at your eyes. “I… I don’t even know where to start, Logan.”

Logan was silent for a moment, letting you collect yourself. He wasn’t one to push, but when he spoke again, there was a firmness in his tone. “Start wherever you want. I’m here. Wade’s here. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

The floodgates opened. You started rambling, voice shaky, hands trembling as you tried to get it all out—the boss who wouldn’t leave you alone, the crushing pressure from school, the failure of the test you’d worked so hard on, and how everything just felt like it was spiraling out of control.

“I feel like I’m failing at everything, Logan. I try so hard, but it’s never enough. I just… I can’t anymore,” you whispered, finally breaking down, tears streaming freely now.

Logan pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a way that made you feel protected, safe. He didn’t say anything at first, just held you, letting you cry into his shoulder.

“That’s not true,” Logan finally said, his voice steady. “You’re not failing. Things go wrong, yeah. Shit happens. But it doesn’t mean you’re not doing enough. You’re human. You’re allowed to have bad days.”

You sniffled, leaning into him more, soaking in his warmth, his solidity. “It’s just been so much…”

Logan pulled back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes, his hand cupping your cheek gently. “And that’s why you don’t have to do it alone. I got your back, always. And if anyone’s been bothering you…” His voice took on a dangerous edge, “I’ll take care of it.”

You chuckled weakly through your tears. “I don’t want you fighting my boss.”

Logan huffed, but his expression softened. “Alright, no fights. But seriously… You don’t have to deal with that crap on your own.”

At that moment, the door swung open dramatically, and Wade popped his head in, eyes wide with exaggerated concern. “Are we hugging in here? Because I can totally make this a group hug.”

You couldn’t help but laugh despite yourself. Wade had a way of lightening the mood, even when things felt impossibly heavy.

Logan rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything as Wade bounded into the room, throwing himself on the bed beside you.

“I was eavesdropping—sorry, not sorry,” Wade started, “and let me just say, anyone giving you a hard time? Deadpool is on it. I’ve got a very particular set of skills. Skills I’ve acquired over a very chaotic, messy life. I’ll make sure no one messes with my little sibling.” He gave you a dramatic wink.

Logan shot Wade a warning look, but there was an understanding between them. For all their bickering, when it came to you, they were always on the same side.

You smiled, feeling a little lighter with both of them by your side.

Logan rubbed your arm gently. “We’re gonna take the rest of the night off. No school, no work. You need a break.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts’,” Logan said firmly. “You’re taking the night for yourself. We’ll watch a movie or do something fun.”

Wade clapped his hands together. “Movie night! I’ll grab the popcorn. And no, you don’t get a choice— we are watching Shrek.”

Logan let out a small grunt, shaking his head, but he didn’t argue.

You couldn’t help but laugh at Wade’s enthusiasm. Despite the mess of emotions swirling inside you, having them around—one a protective, gruff presence, and the other a chaotic, endearing force—made you feel like maybe things would be okay. You weren’t alone in this, no matter how overwhelming it felt.

Logan pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice low and comforting. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. Together.”

And for the first time that day, you believed it.

~

The next morning, you woke up feeling a little more rested. Wade’s snoring had been a background noise throughout the night, and Logan had stayed close, his arm draped protectively around you as the three of you fell asleep halfway through Shrek.

You yawned and stretched, your body feeling lighter than the night before. It wasn’t all better, but you knew with Logan and Wade by your side, you’d get through it.

But what you didn’t know—what neither Logan nor Wade had mentioned to you—was that they had a plan.

~

Later that day, Logan and Wade stood just outside your workplace, both wearing sunglasses. Wade had insisted it was part of the "covert op" vibe, even though they stood out like sore thumbs. Logan grunted, adjusting his leather jacket.

“Okay, Wolvie, what’s the game plan? Because I’m itching to shove someone’s head in a copy machine,” Wade said, a little too cheerfully.

Logan growled under his breath. “No shoving heads in machines. We’re here to talk.”

Wade gasped dramatically. “Talk? Logan, we didn’t come all the way here to talk. Have you met us?”

Logan sighed. “You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Never,” Wade replied, clearly thrilled about the potential chaos.

Logan gave him a side glance. “Just let me handle it.”

Inside, your boss—a middle-aged man with thinning hair and an arrogant air—was sitting at his desk, tapping away at his computer when the door burst open, the bell jingling violently. He looked up, startled, only to see Logan and Wade storming in like two very intimidating storm clouds.

“Uh, can I help you—”

Logan stepped forward, leaning on the man’s desk, his presence radiating danger. “You’re the one who’s been makin’ her life a living hell, right?”

Your boss swallowed hard, his eyes flicking nervously between Logan's intense stare and Wade’s unsettlingly enthusiastic grin. He tried to maintain some semblance of composure, though his voice wavered. “I’m… sorry? Who are you talking about?”

Logan leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a growl. “You know exactly who. The one you’ve been botherin’ all week. You’re gonna stop.”

The boss blinked, sweat already starting to form on his brow. “Listen, if you’ve got a problem, there are proper channels—”

Wade, who had been pacing behind Logan like an impatient child, suddenly slammed his hands down on the desk, making the man jump. “Oh, we’re past proper channels, buddy. See, we’re the 'hands-on' approach. You ever watch John Wick? Think of us like that, but with more sarcasm.” Wade flashed a grin that was more menacing than reassuring. “Y’know, I’ve got so many ways we could handle this. My personal favorite? Something involving a very, very tight stapler and a completely unrelated office supply.”

Logan shot him a glance, silently telling Wade to dial it back. Wade just winked, enjoying himself far too much.

The boss stammered, scrambling for words, his hands now trembling slightly. “I-I didn’t mean to upset anyone. If there’s been a misunderstanding—”

“No misunderstanding,” Logan interrupted, his voice calm but filled with a quiet, deadly promise. “You’ve been makin’ life harder than it needs to be. That ends now. You leave her alone, or you’re gonna wish you had.”

The room went deathly quiet. Logan’s words hung in the air, and though his tone was controlled, the weight behind it made it clear—he wasn’t making a request.

Your boss nodded vigorously, too scared to say much else. “Of course. I’ll… I’ll make sure there’s no more trouble. I didn’t realize…”

Logan stood up straight, stepping back and letting the tension between them settle. “Good. ‘Cause if I hear otherwise, we’ll be back. And I guarantee next time, talkin’ won’t be on the table.”

Wade patted the boss on the shoulder as they turned to leave. “See? Easy peasy. Now, don’t make me come back and introduce you to my friend Mr. Duct Tape, okay?”

The boss just nodded, wide-eyed, watching them until they were out of sight.

~

Outside, Wade was practically skipping with glee. “Did you see his face? I think he aged ten years in the last five minutes! Man, that was fun.”

Logan rolled his eyes but smirked slightly. “I’d rather not come back.”

Wade shrugged. “Eh, we’ll see. If he so much as frowns in their direction again, he’s getting the full Deadpool experience.”

Logan let out a low grunt. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

As they walked away from your workplace, Wade threw an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “Y’know, Wolvie, I gotta say… we make a hell of a team. You with the menacing silence, me with the witty banter? That guy didn’t stand a chance.”

Logan shoved Wade’s arm off, giving him a side-eye. “Just don’t get used to it.”

~

Back at the apartment, you were curled up on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone, when the door swung open. Logan walked in first, followed by Wade, who was humming some kind of victory tune.

You glanced up at them, feeling a bit more refreshed after the night of rest. “Where have you guys been?”

Logan shrugged, moving into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. “Had to handle somethin’.”

Wade, on the other hand, wasted no time flopping down beside you, his arm slung around your shoulders. “Oh, you know, just a quick errand. Nothing major. But let’s just say that your boss? Yeah, he’s gonna be a lot more… accommodating from now on.”

You blinked, staring at Wade in confusion. “What did you guys do?”

Logan took a swig of his beer, his expression neutral. “Had a little chat. Straightened some things out.”

Wade grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “Oh, yeah. It was glorious. There was sweating, stammering, a little bit of—”

“Wade,” Logan interrupted, shooting him a look.

Wade huffed dramatically but didn’t elaborate. Instead, he gave you a reassuring squeeze. “Point is, you don’t need to worry about that jerk anymore. He’s gonna be on his best behavior. And if he’s not, well…” Wade’s grin widened. “He won’t be for long.”

You couldn’t help but feel a mix of shock and gratitude. “You… You didn’t have to do that.”

Logan came over, standing behind the couch, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Yeah, we did. You don’t deserve to deal with that crap.”

“Exactly,” Wade chimed in. “And if anyone makes you feel like that again, well… we’ve got plenty of time for ‘errands.’”

You laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. Sure, Logan and Wade had their differences, and Wade was a whole different level of unpredictable, but they both cared about you fiercely. It wasn’t just words with them—it was action, and you appreciated it more than you could say.

“Thanks, guys,” you said quietly, looking between the two of them.

Logan gave you a nod, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently. “Anytime.”

Wade grinned and reached for the remote. “Alright, now that we’ve saved the day, I vote we celebrate with some violent cartoons and an unhealthy amount of snacks.”

You smiled, settling back into the couch. Despite the chaos, you knew one thing for certain: with Logan and Wade in your corner, there wasn’t anything—or anyone—that could get to you. And that was a comfort you didn’t take lightly.

As Wade flicked through the channels, Logan sat beside you, his hand resting on your knee. You leaned into him, feeling safe, protected. The weight of the world wasn’t so heavy anymore—not when you had these two looking out for you.

And as the opening credits of Shrek 2 rolled across the screen, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay after all.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @welcometochilis585

If you want to be added to the tag list for Logan content, let me know! 🫶

[stillaclownlol]

Gonna throw up If I can't talk about them-

Bunch of Aiden analysis under the cut because he's just SO OBSESSED CODED AND NOBODY TALKS ABOUT IT 😭 (I will be very weird about it)

The way it's so doomed from the start. He's already so fascinated by her. It's in the little jump he does when she sits in front of him, like a secret they're both in on, like her sitting in front of him is some obscure way of her inviting him into a conversation.

Why is he like this (not positive but not negative either)

He has such a cocktail of personality traits and, most certainly, mental disorders, and his own history that makes it so, when he's in love, that it WILL blow up in his face.

The fact that he's been homeschooled for his entire life- he has no idea. HE DOESNT EVEN KNOW. He doesnt realize that its not normal. of course he doesn't :( His parents obviously leave him alone for long stretches of time and he doesn't seem to mind this. He hasn't had the chance to develop his social skills at all-

It's why he's so, let's be real, creepy. Ash makes it very clear she's not interested and he just keeps worming his way into her life. He plots so that she'll go on the field trip, he follows her around, he goes to her fucking house on the first day. LIKE, HELLO? RED FLAG?

He's having evil thoughts here I swear 💀

And already so quickly after meeting her he makes Ash his priority. He asks to sit next to her, he engages and makes an effort to talk to her. Tries to joke around with her. Gives her a nickname. Touches her. He's so touchy.

And defends her!!! When Tyler gets pissed at Ash, he honestly goes off on him even tho he KNOWS Ash can defend herself- and he's so...dark about it. There's a threat hidden behind his words. He's MAD here, right? Tell me I'm not crazy, please-

He also very clearly has violence on the forefront of his mind 💀 He's the first one to actively attack the phantoms; not to defend himself, not to defend somebody else (well, he pulls Ash out of the way), but for fun. And he's disappointed when they don't scream. He's sadistic, he likes causing pain, it's something he relishes in.

I mean look at how he smiles!!! None of the other kids have such an...active ENJOYMENT in fighting the phantoms, but for Aiden, it's almost like he finds relief in it, some way to vent out his frustrations. He's eager for a fight, for a thrill.

That's how Aiden sustains himself, he pretty much operates under "I'm here for a good time, not a long time." Everything he does gives him a boost of adrenaline, no matter the consequences. He got into a fight? Eh, who cares about all the bruises, at least it got his blood rushing. Broke a bone while doing parkour or smth? Whatever, the way his stomach dropped when he was falling as totally worth it.

It's a very dangerous mentality to live with, obviously. He's an adrenaline junkie. He's an addict. More than anything else, Aiden wants something that makes him feel alive.

And what makes you feel more alive than love?

Like not to minimise or anything but he's known her for like. 2-3 months- and he's already SO scared of losing her. Like I just don't think he would have had this type of reaction with anybody else besides Ben. He would have absolutely lost his shit if Ash 'died'.

He's a straight up love junkie. He's obsessive. Nothing beats the high love can give you. It overrules everything else. If Ash (or whoever he's interested in) feels bad because of smth, he's done with it.

He LIKED dying. He LIKED the adrenaline rush. But he won't do it again. Not because he had some realization that he didn't want to die, that he still wanted to live and do things, but because Ash was upset. Because this, this rush of care from her part, the way she was so scared of him dying that she was shaking, nothing could fill the hole in his heart better than that. And now that he has a taste for it, he won't let go easy. He will keep on living- if it means Ash will be by his side.

Which is a very dangerous position to put her in. Ash already feels responsible for her friends, and she doesn't even know that Aiden has "put" his life in her hands, not that it's her responsibility, because it isn't, but she will certainly feel responsible if Aiden does something FOR her.

Like He's so fucking obsessed and he doesn't even realize it- like look at how he sees her 😭 THE HEAVENLY GLOOOOOOW, LIKE SHES AN ANGEL AND HE THINKS SHE CAN SAVE HIM. BABY SHE CANT, YOU HAVE TO SAVE YOURSELF.

He could spiral so fucking bad. He could do some absolutely heinous things. Because he just doesn't know. He doesn't know how to love truly, yet. For him love really is that rush of adrenaline, the knife carving out his heart, he could be putty in her hands, or her executioner. This love that can be so obsessive, that he NEEDS it to function, like its water, like its the air he breathes. Its a compulsion, a fixation, a longing that burrows into your very soul. Ash doesn't even know what she's getting herself into-

Godddddd, it makes me so sick/ pos, it's SO FUCKING INTERESTINGGGGGG. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

I literally cannot function around this drawing 🫠

The. The hand. That way he's grabbing her. He's pulling her back. Towards HIM. like "this is mine. And I'm not sharing." And that little fucking look in his eyes, he just looks SO fucking pleased with himself. And Ash looks so...resigned. they're so doomed-coded, i love them so bad.

I don't know how I was supposed to NOT make a killer au, when he's just...like that around her.

Love is a wonderful thing. But love is also cruel, it is vicious, it is possessive and obsessive, and it will leave carnage in its wake.

Romantic love is an obsession. It possesses you. You lose your sense of self. You cannot stop thinking about another human being. -Helen Fisher

[bettystonewell]

I GOT YOU

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean might not have the best bedside manners and you might not be the best patient, but when you wake up feeling unwell and feverous, he tries to help you out in his own way.

Word Count: 1.1k words

Tags: fluff, sick-fic, language, Dean takes care of you

A/N: I wrote this one a little over a year ago when I was feeling under the weather and sorry for myself. Nothing like a Dean body pillow (if only I could get my hands on one), even when you’re not sick.—————————————————————Masterlist

You woke up that morning like any other. The sound of your alarm calling to you from what felt like a distant room. Only your phone was a mere foot away from you, sitting on the bedside table charging and waiting for you to turn it off.

Dammit. Sam would be waiting for you in the war room, ready to start your early morning run.

You moved to push yourself up and off your mattress, but your body felt heavier than normal, fingers and toes, oddly sweaty. In fact, your whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat, and yet you felt cold.

No. Urgh. No. You couldn’t be getting sick, could you? You’d barely left the bunker in the last few days to run into anyone that could pass any germs onto you. But the further you moved across the floor of your room to your wardrobe to choose your clothes for the day, the heavier your body felt. The foggier your mind became. The snottier your… Urgh…

Fuck this! Fuck Sam and his morning run. You were going back to bed. Hopefully to sleep it off and wake up feeling refreshed and not sick.

You. Were. Not. Sick.

And you kept telling yourself that, splaying yourself out on top of your bed like a starfish, feet dangling haphazardly over the edge.

Lucky there were no such things as monsters under the bed. Or was there? Sam or Dean had never told you if such things existed and you’d certainly never come across any mention of one in the books in the library. Urgh. You were delirious and needed rest.

Rest. Rest was… Good…

A loud thump startled you from your dream. It had been a good dream, too. One where Dean had been…

“Sweetheart?” the object of your desires called out to you from behind the door to your room. “You in there?” he yelled loudly again. Making your eardrums ring with the obnoxious way he insisted on greeting you presently.

Why did he have to be so loud?

You tried to reply, but your voice was dry and hoarse. The sound coming from your vocal cords while meaning to be a “Yeah,” came out more like a cat hacking up a fur ball.

Surprisingly, though, he heard you. Either that or he disregarded his manners as usual and opened the door anyway to find you still sprawled across your bed. Your hair no doubt splayed in every which way across your face and back, while your nose dripped with the mucus you had zero fucks of wiping in that present moment.

His eyes did a once over your weakened form and he commented in a way only he could get away with. At least at present because you had no energy to throttle him.

“Woah! Sweetheart! You look like shit!”

A groan that was meant to come out as a sarcastic “thanks” escaped your throat. ‘Way to make a girl feel better, jackass.’

You slowly sat up, making sure your clothes hadn’t bunched awkwardly in any of the wrong places as you did so. The fear of accidentally exposing yourself to him while you were still stuck in the friend zone fuelled you, even in your under the weather state.

Once upright, your body swayed. Its own weight, too heavy to hold itself and your head up on top of it. Arms doing their best to support you, along with your legs and feet that you dropped to the floor.

Dean’s eagle eyes had been watching you the entire time. Studying your movements and observing the way you scrunched up your face in pain and discomfort.

Without an invitation or an explanation, he walked over to where you now sat and placed himself beside you. A hand coming up to feel your forehead. The drops of sweat transferring to the back of his hand, along with the heat that radiated off of your skin.

“You’re sick!” he exclaimed, his voice hitching on the end.

‘No shit, Sherlock,’ your inner voice said, but “Hmph” was the sound that escaped you.

“You should lie back down. I’ll go get you some aspirin or something.”

The something scared you and you shook your head in protest.

“Don’t be so stubborn. We gotta break that fever. Wait here.” And he stood up and left the room.

Now alone again and no longer feeling the pressure to sit up in front of company, you allowed your body to flop back onto the bed. Your head missing your pillow by inches, but you didn’t care. It was easier to lie where you now lay. Moving was just as difficult as speaking had been, and sleep soon took you again.

You woke to the feeling of something or someone shaking you this time. Strong hands on your shoulders, gripping the muscle and flesh over them too tight.

“Help me sit her up.” A male voice rung through your ears again.

“Dude, she’s really burning up. I don’t know if this’ll be enough.”

“Just, okay Sammy!” said the first.

A second set of hands grabbed your own, and you were pulled and pushed into a sitting position. A softer feeling headboard, or was it a hard muscly mattress, slipped in behind your back? It grew arms and then wrapped them around your frame, pulling you against it.

Fingers pried open your mouth and placed a small object on your tongue. A hard, smoother one pushed against your lips and cool liquid flowed against your teeth and down your chin. A second pair of fingertips massaged your neck and the tiny pill shaped thing eased down your throat and into your stomach.

Your head still pounded when you awoke again, but your body felt less cold and more comfortable. The grogginess of waking made it clear you had finally managed some uninterrupted sleep.

But your pillow felt hard, and it wasn’t like that before. It didn’t smell of whiskey and gunpowder, either. The same scent you loved to smell when you sat in Baby or next to… Dean…

His soft flannel was on your cheek. Short spikey ends of his five o’clock shadow pressed through the strands of hair that graced your head, tickling your scalp underneath. His hand rested on your side, draped lightly by the arm that wrapped around your back.

You were on a lean, lying against Dean. His sock covered feet attached to the end of his denim covered bow legs came into view as you opened your eyes for the first time since he’d arrived in your room earlier that day.

As you moved to sit up, startled by the position you’d found yourself in, his hand pressed you down, gentle but firm. “Stay still and rest, sweetheart,” he said. “I got you.”

You swallowed the lump in your dry, aching throat and attempted to talk. “Dean?” His name left your lips shaky and coarse.

“Best not to talk…” His body leaned some, shifting back into place almost as quick with the addition of a glass tumbler half full of water. “Here…”

The cup tilted into your lips and the cool liquid from earlier lined your inner mouth and throat, relieving the scratch that had tickled them some.

Dean leaned back again, and you heard the glass hit the wood of the table at the edge of your bed. “Better?” he asked softly.

Your head only nodded in response, lazilly and slow was all you could manage.

“Good. You had us worried. Go back to sleep. I got you.”

—————————————————————DEAN TAG LIST:

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

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[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

First, love the dark Lucifer Vampire story! And I love how treats Adam like a pet. So, here's what I have you:

Prince! Adam x Warlord! Lucifer (yes he would be dark and treat Adam like a glorified pet. Adam would grow to like it but at first, he's embarrassed as hell. He's given to Lucifer as his prisoner to stop him from attacking the kingdom of Heaven. Adam tries to fight it but he's forced into it by his mother, Sera, against his will. Lilith will be dead in this, died during childbirth, and Charlotte is just as ruthless as her father. Lucifer sees Adam as his pet for the most part but later on, decides he'd make a good bride. He's submissive and does what he's told. Perfect. Adam slowly falls in love with him and Lucifer will follow slowly after. Adam's personality would basically be shy but easily moved to tears due to his low self-esteem. Sera treats him like a waste of space and much prefers her daughter, Emily.)

XxX

Prince Adam couldn't believe what he was hearing from his own mother. He had been dragged from his room by guards, no yelling would get them to stop, and he was brought before his mother, Queen Sera of the kingdom of Heaven. She looked down at him with a glare like she normally would.

"Adam. The invaders have come to a decision." Adam had a bad feeling about this. Emily refused to look at him but she did look bored to be here. She was always bored, even when their mother was hurting Adam. But, this whole situation leaves Adam with a bad taste in his mouth and the guards forcing him to kneel didn't help either.

"Adam, you will go with them as...collateral to keep them away from our borders. They've requested a prisoner and me and Emily certainly couldn't leave Heaven to its own devices. That leaves you."

No. No! This couldn't be happening! Adam was to be a prisoner?! To some tyrant, they call The Devil?! He felt tears fall onto the floor as he begged, "Please! There has to be—"

Sera simply scoffed. "Cease you're crying. Honestly, a man shouldn't be crying this much but I guess you never met the criteria of a man, did you?" Adam flinched, hurt once more by her words. Emily let out a chuckle but she didn't say much of anything. She never did. She saw Adam like one would a fly. Annoying but completely forgotten when out of the room.

He was bound in chains and gagged before being put in the dungeons to wait until after the kingdom celebrated getting out of war. They would throw a feast for the tyrant and his daughter, they would take their prisoner and leave. The war over and Adam gone. Two birds with one stone.

Queen Sera prepared the most magnificent feast they could and just in time. The Warlord and his daughter were here. He walked in like owned the place, his regal cape flooding behind him. His daughter, taller than him by a head, walked beside him, her cold eyes gazing at everything in disgust. Their palace was much better.

"Ah, if isn't the Queen." The Warlord said, smirking at her. There was a reason they called him The Devil. The birth name given to him was Lucifer. His daughter, Charlotte Morningstar, looked just smug, her red eyes dancing with mirth at the fact everyone seemed afraid of them.

She was known to keep a plethora of women at her side that she used as her pleasure. She took care of them in her opinion and they all loved being her pets, but it was amusing to see all of them, especially the women, terrified that she would seduce them and use them like a pet.

They weren't worthy of that.

"Shall we eat?"

I love all of this so much!! @beef-brisket @fanofstuff01 @kittenfangirl20 I need of rp of this yesterday lmao

-

Adam sat down in the cell, his eyes wet as he couldn't stop silently crying as he could hear the celebration going on upstairs. They were celebrating him being given to a ruthless Warlord as a pet, a slave in every sense of the word.

He was supposed to be a Prince, yet he was treated no better than the dead rat in the corner that was rotting away. Soon that would be him, The Devil will likely torture him for the rest of his days and use him any way possible.

Adam felt another tear fall from his eyes, he was a virgin so the thought of the only time he'd be having sex........ It broke his heart that he would never be loved by anyone.

His father loved him before he passed away from being sick. Adam wished he was still alive, surely he wouldn't let his mother do this.

His mother didn't love him, Adams not sure she ever did. His sister seemed indifferent towards him. He didn't know what he did to make them not want or love him.

No one loved him, no one ever would. Adam was never going to be happy ever again.

His eyes stayed locked down on his bound hands. Was this what awaited him down South in the car country of Hell? To be thrown in the dungeon, bound and gagged, only to be fed enough to live. To know only pain and suffering from this day on. Maybe the Warlord will take pity and make Adams death quick and painless.

And maybe Adam will grow wings and fly away.

[rose-gold-bullet]

[𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤] Star-Lord x Reader

Summary: You're sent on a mission to another planet and catch the attention of your ally. This takes place in the Marvel Rivals Universe; this Star-Lord might vary from the MCU!

warnings: brief 'love interest protects you from a creep' trope, canon-typical violence in the beginning, chronic use of (Y/N) in this bad boy

Your vision is clouded by thick smoke as buildings come crashing down around you. In this war-torn city, there's nothing to count on but your instincts, your weapons-

"Woo-hoo! Two points for the Star-Lord!"

Oh, and your idiot ally who's somersaulting through the air. The two of you and four others were called here on a mission to transport something to somewhere; frankly, neither of you read the brief, but it doesn't seem like you needed to.

Your new friend, Star-Lord you think you heard him say, lands right in front you. With the area quiet and the haze finally dissipating, you both lower your weapons and check your surroundings. Though it's out of sight and being watched over by the rest of your team, you're sure the objective has just about reached its destination. You watch as he removes his mask to say something, and he's so pretty you almost miss the enemy movement coming from behind him.

"Hah! did you see tha-"

"Duck."

"Goose?" you groan and shove him to the floor for his protection as you raise your gun, knocking out the Psylocke who was racing to get you when your defenses were low.

"Ohh, Nice one! She's so quiet!" He cheers you on from the ground as you extend your arm to help him up, rolling your eyes but smiling at the flattery. Once he’s up, neither of you let go of each others arms for a moment. It takes you a second to realize you’ve stared at him for just a bit too long, and once you do you jerk your hand off him as though you’ve been burned and clear your throat. Just as you let go of each other, you hear Captain America shouting your names from a few streets over.

Once you're all grouped up, you're notified there's been no known casualties on either side and that the mission was a success. With that, you're all free to go, and you want nothing more than a peaceful, quiet walk on the way to the hotel you've booked for the night. With all this multiverse bullshit going on, it's been over a month since you were given approval to head back to Earth where you belonged. Travelling the universe has been exciting and all, but you can't help but miss home; the closest you've been able to find to it is a room for one built in a style you could maybe find somewhere on your planet.

"Hey! You!" you hear the sputtering of fuel behind you followed by a thump as your friendly pursuer lands as gracefully as he can beside you, "I never got your hero name!" Maybe this walk won't be as peaceful as you hoped.

You've seen him around before during missions, and he's even tried speaking to you a couple times, but you've just been so inside your head lately you've shut out just about everyone. As annoying as he might be, part of you is glad he's not the type to give up.

"I don't have one. (Y/N) is fine." You look up at him and catch the most upset look he could muster.

"(Y/N)? Fine normal name, I guess. But that can't be your hero name! I saw you out there, you were awesome!" You can't help but giggle at his enthusiasm, and his smile widens even more, "Tell you what, I'll come up with one for you."

Your giggle grows into a laugh, "Absolutely not, Star-Lord."

"What's wrong with Star-Lord? It's badass!" You want to say what you really think, that his name is both bad and ass, but it'd feel like kicking a friendly dog, so you swallow your jab.

"I guess it's a hero-name of some kind, which might be better than nothing." You humour him.

"So you'll let me pick?"

"I'll let you come up with ideas."

He proceeds to spitball the worst names you have ever heard in your entire life, which eventually spiral into any noun he can think of followed by 'lord'. You can tell that at a certain point he stopped trying and is just trying to make you laugh, but that doesn't mean it's not working.

"Gun-Lord?"

"Be- Because you saw me with a gun?" You can barely contain your giggles enough to answer.

"Too on the nose, huh?" He grins down at you, but you don't catch the adoration in his eyes.

Eventually you calm yourself down, "These suggestions have been so helpful, don't get me wrong, but I don't think we've found the winner quite yet."

"Give me a bit, maybe I'll come back tomorrow with some more heavy-hitters. We'll get you that name eventually. Where are we headed, by the way?" He looks around and notices you've reached the untouched part of the city, though the citizens are still, understandably, in a bit of a panic.

"I'm headed to my hotel. Where are you staying?"

"Pff, lame. I stay in a ship with my crew, you can stay there if you want!"

"Your... crew?"

"You haven't heard of us? The Guardians of the Galaxy?"

"Uhh, I might've heard that cute armed raccoon mention something like that? You know him?"

He laughs, "Don't call him that in front of him, he's a bit feral. But yeah, He works with me. So does Mantis and Groot."

"Weird crew you've got going on."

"You'd fit right in!" You can tell he definitely didn't mean it as an insult, "I'd have to get to know you a little better, but I think we could use someone like you, you know." You laugh again, but this time it's in disbelief. He can't be serious.

"I... I kind of have a life on Earth, I think. As tempting as it is to fuck off into space and do... space things together. I don't even know your name."

"I prefer Star-Lord, but Peter works too. And I think you're underestimating how cool the space things are. Come on, you're curious aren't you? Let me show you my ship."

You pause for a moment and think it over. You'd never join his crew, but there's just something about him that makes the thought of seeing him again so exciting. You wonder if other people find him so charming or just paint him as egotistical.

"Sure. Yeah. Meet me sometime tomorrow, maybe?"

"Your hotel, 10:00 AM?"

"Done."

You spend the rest of the walk talking mostly about Peter. You love asking the questions and he loves answering even more. You learn about his life in space, that he's not totally human like you thought, and you even get into discussing music by the time you've reached the lobby.

"I guess that's it for today." You try to hide your disappointment as you both stand a few feet from the front desk—you already know him well enough to sense he doesn't need more of an ego boost.

"Yeah. It was great running into you, you kicked ass on the field."

"You too," you look up at him but suddenly have the urge to avoid eye contact, "Thanks for walking me back."

"Anytime."

***

Your night at the hotel felt longer than usual and you couldn't quite make out why. Maybe the room just wasn't as comforting as it looked in the pictures. Maybe you didn't get as much sleep as you wanted because you were too excited to see this spaceship you've heard so much about. Whatever the case, 10:00AM couldn't come fast enough, and by 9:30, you were already sitting in the hotel lobby, your leg bouncing with excitement. You feverishly check your watch and sneak glances out the tall, sunlit windows hoping you'd see your talkative new friend. 'Relax. You're never this antsy over a man,' You try to tell yourself. You sigh and close your eyes to ground yourself a little more.

"Stood up?" A gravelly, unfamiliar voice asks you.

"Huh?" Your eyes shoot open and dart towards the stranger in front of you. He's older, lean, and a bit too close for comfort. You stand up and take a step back. He takes a step forward.

"I asked if you got stood up. A pretty lady like you shouldn't be all alone." You can smell the alcohol; he's probably from the hotel bar. 'This early? Gross.'

"No, I'm just a bit early. Thanks for your concern, but you can head back to the bar."

"You should join me. You'd have more fun with my buddies and I." You're not sure if you should knock his lights out now or try to get someone's attention; you absolutely hate making a scene, and you can't tell what would cause less of a disturbance to the otherwise empty lobby.

"This guy bothering you?" You feel a hand on your waist, and you hate to admit it, but it provides a sense of comfort. You fight your instinct to roll your eyes—of course he of all people would love to save the damsel in distress; he's probably practiced that line in the mirror.

Nevertheless, you lean into him to sell your relationship a bit more, "I think we're fine. He was just leaving."

The creep goes pale; Peter is large. Even when drunk, he knows there's no way in hell he was going to beat him in a fight.

"Uhh. That's right. Have a great day, you two." He stumbles back towards wherever he came from, and you quickly turn to face your saviour.

"My hero." Sarcasm drips from your voice, "Thank you for saving me, Star-Lord." You roll your eyes and everything, but after saying hero, nothing else could penetrate his skull.

He smiles widely and his face tints red at the use of his name, clearly oblivious to your mockery, "No problem! It's expected of a Guardian like me." You can't help but laugh; He's just so dumb.

On the way out of the lobby, you quickly check your watch—‘9:43; he’s early, too.’ You smile to yourself, trying to keep it subtle.

You sharply inhale the strange, almost Earth-like air as he leads you in the direction of the aircraft dock near the edge of the city.

"It's still strange to me that ship docks even exist," You try to break the silence, "We've never had a need on Earth."

"Yeah, it's mostly a No-Fly zone for the other planets. Doesn't help that there's not much there anyway."

"Earth has a lot of problems, but it's not bad, I think. Maybe you should visit sometime. I've only just left and I'm already pretty homesick." It's only a half-truth; You've felt this way since you've left your family for S.H.I.E.L.D—it's a lonely life, being a hero.

"... Maybe. I don't know. My home's on that ship now. I'm not even sure what family I've got left there on Terra." You can tell he's got mixed feelings about his life back on Earth. You know better than to pry.

You only notice now that his hand is still on your waist from the lobby once he sighs and tightens his grip around you a little. You're farther from Earth than you've ever been, but you notice that the closer you are to Peter, the less you feel that pit in your stomach telling you to come home. And it’s probably wishful thinking, but you hope that maybe he feels the same way around you.

***

"Who the flark is this?" You separate from Peter only to use him as a shield from the talking raccoon,

"Uh, we've been on missions together before? I'm the gun girl?" you squeak out from behind him. You wanted to make a good impression, but it's a little hard to do when you're the only one on the ship with manners.

He squints, "... Widow?"

"No, the other one."

"Oh." He completely loses interest in you and goes back to working on whatever death machine he's tinkering with. You're not sure whether to be relieved or take offence.

"Yeah, that's Rocket. He's a real sweetheart." Peter takes to holding your hand as he guides you through the ship, meeting the rest of his crew one by one. It's an interesting group on a near dysfunctional aircraft, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't see the appeal.

Eventually, Peter leads you to the cockpit. Your eyes widen as you step towards the control panel.

"You can actually fly this thing?" You ask in awe, with one hand still holding his and the other tracing over the dashboard. You don't need to look at him to hear the smugness in his voice,

"Yup. Pretty cool, right? We'd have to get a seat added for you if you stay with us long enough, but it shouldn't take long to install."

"And where would I sleep if I were to ditch my hotel like you mentioned?" Again, you're definitely not considering joining his crew. You just want out of that hotel and you have a healthy curiosity.

"Uh... There's always my room?" Your head jolts to Peter who's shooting you his best flirtatious grin. It's goofy.

You giggle, "Only if you're fine with sleeping on the floor." Truth be told, staying with him does sound a lot better than a dingy hotel with a lobby that serves alcohol at 9:00AM. But you're not the type to sleep with someone you've only just met, even if you really want to, and even if it's only in the literal sense. Besides, you like Peter, but it’s hard to know just how many cute girls received the same treatment before you.

"Fair enough," He sighs, "There's a spare bedroom that's all yours if you want it."

"I might just take you up on it. Did you know S.H.I.E.L.D isn't even covering my room costs? total bullshit." You tactically leave out that you can more than afford it and you just want to spend more time with him (and maybe Mantis, who seemed absolutely lovely).

"Sounds good, we'll both be here for a couple weeks anyway until we're given the go-ahead to... what was it? 'Fuck off and do space things?'"

"That's right."

"Right. So yeah, My ship is your ship or whatever. But not really." You giggle and note the possessiveness he has over the Milano, "Welcome aboard... Earth-Woman?"

"Absolutely not."

This time it's his turn to laugh, "The next one is gonna be killer though, Trust me."

You smile at him before gently squeezing his hand then letting go to fully face the cockpits windows. You can only imagine the stars and planets this ship has seen, captained by someone who, in your eyes, might be even prettier than the galaxy itself. Not that you'd ever say that to his face, of course.

***

As you tuck yourself into the spare bedroom you had to spend the day cleaning out (it was unknowingly used as a storage room for Rocket's stolen garbage), you notice that your typical sense of loneliness and dread is nowhere to be found. That homesickness you've been carrying for much longer than you'd left Earth has vanished completely, and you can't help but think it might have something to do with that handsome, snoring idiot who's in the room across from yours.

Notes: -2303 words

- please check out my ko-fi if u liked this! i’m a broke college student working full time, it’s hard to find the time to make these D:

-i'd love to make a sequel but its heavily dependent on how this first part performs! (that means you should like or reblog if u liked this ;)), without a part two this ones cute but on the underwhelming side imho -could be heavily out of character, I'm going almost exclusively off his voice lines in the game! feel free to shoot an ask recommending changes to the shot :) -nothing else to say, i love him so much <3