#eventually hell work his way up to freedom

[dduane]

I just read the part where Kirk experiences the Enterprise's point of view in The Wounded Sky to someone else, where she sees the crew as children she is training up to the Great Desire of exploration for exploration's sake, especially Jim. His reaction, essentially: "That was really pretty. ....And then he blows her up."

I hadn't thought about that before! I checked the copyright date, and it looks like The Wounded Sky came out a year before The Search for Spock, so you were writing without knowing that sacrifice would eventually happen.

How did you feel about that? Do you wish that writing decision had been made differently? (If, as a Trek writer, you're allowed to comment on other Trek writers' choices!)

You know, I tend not to think a whole lot about such issues. First of all, because (in the long run) it gets you nowhere in particular that's useful. And secondly, because it's not a thing that, as a Trek writer in any medium except film, you have the slightest power to change.

Now, at this end of time I think we can safely say that no one's going to hire me on to write a Trek film. And also that no one at that end of the creative spectrum is going to pay the slightest attention to anything I say, either. Both of those situations are just What's So, and neither of them bothers me. (Since I have universes of my own to manage at the moment, and that's where my attention properly lies.) So as regards my opinions about other writers' work, I'm pretty much off the hook.

If I had been on screenwriting duty for that film, would there be things I'd have wanted to do differently? Hell yeah. From the premise up. But the important thing here is: would those things necessarily have worked better on the screen / with the audience? Impossible to tell. And speaking as someone repeatedly given permission to work in someone's universe, the main thing to be aware of is the expectation that your chief responsibility is to do what best serves the characters and the IP of which they're part. (There's a post over at Out of Ambit with a lot more of my thoughts on the subject:)

The other thing to remember is that, though I've worn the Canonical Hat in my time, novel work is by definition non-canonical. Doing it, you are at all times working with the understanding that the licensor rarely views your work as anything better than a corporate side hustle—a way for the IP to make some cash on the side—and will ignore you and the stuff you've created unless given pressing reasons to do otherwise. (Such as when they might make some unexpected money off it... at which point you remind yourself as forcibly as necessary that what you did is Work For Hire; they own it, lock, stock and barrel, and you should not realistically expect to be given any credit.)

And, if you understand the rules and enjoy the work enough, all of this is okay. The reward is not in making a lot of money doing it, or even in having aspects of your work openly assumed into canon. The reward lies in being allowed to contribute to a given universe in public (and, yeah, getting paid for it by the licensor). It's not payback: it's payforward. And you're left an astonishing amount of freedom to bring your vision to that universe. (Sometimes... as one colleague has McCoy say... you have to be "very, very careful" to get away with it. But it can be done.)

The truth is that even in the 1980s, I was sharing this level of playing-in-a-universe with a goodish cohort of editors and writers: a big roomful at least. Now I'm sharing it (retroactively speaking) with hundreds of them. With the best will in the world, even in the 80's the licensors (as regarded film) couldn't have realistically polled/listened to all of us regarding our creative opinions about the screenplay end of things. As for what that'd look like nowadays... I'll leave you to your own deductions. 😏

Anyway, thanks for the question. It's always nice to know that there are people who want to know what you think. 😊

[alkalamity]

Hear me out. Ratiorine AU where Aventurine is a mer captured by a group of researchers and Ratio is the scientist brought on board to teach him how to speak and access his intelligence levels.

[blkkizzat]

COME PUT THAT MILLI★N D★LLAR PU$$Y ON ME, MAKE ME RICH!

FARMHAND!TOJI X BIMBOBUNNY!READER

☼ summary: au. a quiet farm life and a young pretty thing—what more could an ex-con want? you're a bit of a brat, but that can be fixed too. ☼ wc: 4.0k ☼ cw: age gap, panty flashing, voyeurism, brat!reader, fantasizing, spit play, biting, hickies, breeding kink, olfactophilia, teasing, perverted toji, morally ambiguous toji, creampies, squirting, unprotected, pet names: Bunny and standard p in v stuff. ☼ a/n: idk y'all farmhand!toji possessed my mind. literally did this all in tumblr drafts again today. Lets see if tumblr actually lets me post this or cucks me again.

FarmHand!Toji who only got the job in the first place because of a prison rehabilitation program. It was either work on a farm or rot in a cell for another 2 years.

Toji chose the farm.

The work wasn't easy, but Toji couldn't complain. It was a very large farm, secluded and he was paid well—but most importantly?

It kept his fuckin' P.O. off his back.

Toji works on the farm for three grueling months until you, the farmer's niece, arrives for the summer to also work.

Well, 'work' wasn't really the right word, because you never did any thing of the sort.

Barely, 19 and kicked out of your house for smoking pot. Your parents sent you to your uncle, hoping the hard work and the ex-cons he had working for him would scare you straight. Additionally, due to the fact your Uncle had no wife and no kids, the sole owner of a large farm, the old bastard was pretty well off. As the only child of your dad, his only sibling, farm would eventually be left to you.

Everyone (not like you had a say) agreed you should know how to run it.

But the thing is—you suck at everything.

You're too flighty to work with the chickens, too prissy clean the pig cages and you'd complain you'd break a nail just from lifting an empty bucket—so milking cows were also out of the question.

Yet you still managed to get your work done.

Precisely cause you weren't the one doing it.

Aware of your youthful looks and charms, you don't hesitate to use them to your advantage.

Your shapely curves are always clad in some in a thin wispy dress, which would turn damn near see-through at the smallest bit of moisture. Wearing no bra and the tiniest of panties, you were always giving a show.

No you weren't scared of these ex-cons in the least bit.

Evident by the way you flounce around the farm, unabashfully, pretending to do the chores the women-starved prisoners were too eager to do for you.

For their efforts you reward them with smiles, blown kisses and sugary words. Sometimes for rewards came in the form of a peach you would sneak them from your uncle's grove.

Always bringing one for yourself you'd sensually bite into the ripen fruit. Allowing its juices to linger on your cherry-glossed lips and dribble down your chin—the slurping noises are the perfect fapping fodder for them.

Yet the best prize of all—and only if you were feeling particularly generous—a flash of panties.

Toji though had not fallen for your charms though.

Not that he wasn't susceptible to them, hell naw—he wanted to bend your pretty ass over the nearest fence and roughly fuck some decency, along with manners into your haughty lil' cunt.

But Toji, as well as any of the prisoners, knew better than to touch you. Not only were they risking their freedom, with even the slightest offense here was enough to send them back to the pen—they were also risking their lives.

Your uncle was no fool. The older man regularly carried a sawed off shotgun slung over his shoulder, which used to be a pistol before you arrived.

The farmer didn't make it a big announcement, simply reminding them it was prison or a grave if they fucked this opportunity up—but the underlying message was crystal clear:

He'd blow anyone to hell who even thought about touching his niece.

Oh, but Toji did think about touching you—alot.

Often staying up late in his shared bunk room—jerking his cock to a frilly pair of panties of yours he'd stolen off the laundry line—once he was sure the others had gone to bed.

Toji wants to teach you a lesson badly.

Not for your benefit though, it be payback for all your goddamn teasing.

Toji isn't a pushover for you.

Nicknaming you 'Bunny' since you were such a clumsy lil ditz. He often made his silly lil bunny do whatever work he was stationed at when you had chores there—yours and his.

And oh, you hated that. You only tried harder when none of your pouts, provocations and seductions move him. It was pure hell, but Toji had resisted every trick you had. An unintended benefit however, was that he'd likely seen every pair of panties you owned by now (which is why he had stolen his favorite).

At one point, when you were particularly annoying one day, Toji even tried straight up ignoring you.

Yet that didn't work either.

You only upped the ante, 'accidentally' spilling a whole bucket of cow's milk on yourself. The very color of your perky nips are clearly visible, poking through the now transparent fabric which clings to you like second skin.

Staring Toji dead in his eyes, a coy smile on your plump lips as your pink manicured nails rubbed circles over your soaked nubs.

It took everything Toji had in him that day not to force you down to the dirt floor, fucking your pussy open just as hard and flithy as you'd been asking for.

Turning away from you, he threw a hay laden blanket over you and told you to go back up to the house n' clean up.

Toji didn't miss how badly you pouted, even though he pretended not to care. You reluctantly listened to him, leaving the barn and back to the main house up the hill.

You were both playing with fire.

Yet from that point something broke in Toji.

He still never crosses the line to touching you, but he'd starts pushing your buttons.

He wants to rile you up just as you had him.

As a result, Toji is working around you without a shirt more often—sometimes even with a raging hard on in full view. Also he doesn't hold back any longer from any of the vulgar thoughts of you that cross his mind. Regularly vocalizing them with a smirk, making overtly perverted comments towards you.

This was even something the other prisoners were too pussy to do to, given the very real threats of your farmer uncle.

Yet Toji wouldn't be a two-time ex-con he is if he didn't mind gambling with his life for a big reward. Toji relishes in your flustered, indignant reactions, loving to see how your face heats up everytime without fail every time he teases his lil' slut, his sultry voice whispering things like:

"I bet y'er cunt is riper than those peaches, Bunny."

"Bunny—think your pretty pussy can squirt more milk than these cow udders?"

"I wonder if my lil' Bunny can actually ride dick, since she's not half bad on a horse?"

You'd call him a 'perverted old man' like you weren't anything more than just a causal cocktease yourself—obviously you get some sick satisfaction knowing you had every man on this farm but Toji at your beck and call.

In reality, you were just as twisted in nature as him.

Still you were stubborn.

And as retaliation for his resistance, you play all manners of pranks on Toji. Doing anything you could so it was harder for him to do his job—from stealing his work gloves, boots and tools—to more serious ones like letting a weasel loose in the chicken coop when it was his shift to collect the eggs.

You deemed it your right to punish him for teasing you, for not becoming one of your simps and most fiendish of all?

Making you actually do work.

You harass him so often, it's not long before Toji realizes you're seeking him out intentionally.

Not even bothering to visit the other workstations where your chores are, they would get done by your lil'fan boys regardless, in favor of following him around all day like a lost lil' chick.

On a particularly hot n' sweltering summer day, Toji is stuck with the job of moving machinery from one side of the farm to the other when the sun is at its highest.

Like usual, he's since removed his sweat-drenched work shirt—remaining only in unhooked overalls and his briefs.

Toji hasn't seen you though, which isn't surprising given how broiling it is outside. Someone with as delicate a disposition as you, who also happened to be as manipulative, probably convinced your uncle to let you laze around inside the house, away from the heat—and Toji.

But you were a needy little thing, always seeking attention. Toji occupies his thoughts for most of the morning imagining you growing so bored, not having him to harass and all day.

With idle hands and absolutely nothing else to do, you'd start playing with that plump lil' pussy of yours, wouldn't you?

A supple girl like you had to overflow like a dam. Toji would bet money you'd already be wet enough, even untouched, to drench his fingers—just from palming your ripe pussy in his hand.

He wouldn't mind taking more than a sip of you on a miserable day like this to quench his thirst.

Continuing his work (and lewd thoughts of you) until his break, Toji discovers he's misplaced his work shirt.

Searching for it in the heat proves annoying—it's not on the grazing pasture fences, nor in the workshed by the machines. Tsk, he swore he had taken it with him to his last station near the horses.

Passing by the cow barn, Toji hasn't had a shift in there today but he absentmindedly remembers there's was a water hose in there. He could at least cool off for the remainder of his break—maybe even rub one out to you.

However, upon sliding open the Toji's smirk grows almost bigger than the hefty cock in his pants.

Looks like he hit the jackpot, today.

There you were in the middle the of the barn, on your back in the hay, thin dress bunched up past your hips and panties dangling off one of your shapely legs—all while feverishly fingering your fat wet lil' cunt.

You salaciously had even dripped a dark sizeable puddle on the dusty floor beneath you.

But the cherry on top?

You're quite shamelessly moaning out cries of his name, uncaring of who could happen to passby and hear you.

'T-Toji!'

'T-Toji, fuck me harder, Daddy!'

All while your pretty angelic face is twisted in pleasure, eyes closed and nose buried deep in the fabric of his soiled work shirt.

Daddy? Oh how fucking filthy of you—God you were perfect slut, just his fuckin' type.

Solely focused on cumming, your hips thrust up desperately to meet your fingers as he stalks closer to you—looking every bit of the predatory ex-convict he is.

"Well, well look at what we got ourselves here doll....n'here I thought the only degenerates on this farm were us prisoners?"

Your eyes widen in shock, but you don't stop your fingers right away. You were so close to your release before Toji suddenly appeared in front of you, there's no way you could physically stop chasing it now.

Not when it only takes a lingering glance at his dark features, muscular tanned sweat slick body, and the painfully obvious way his dick jumps in his pants to have you falling over the edge. You gush, mewling as you cream around your delicate lil' fingers.

"You've been a very naughty lil' bunny..."

Sheepishly pulling them out, covered in your slick, Toji's eyes zero in on the way your hole still gapes open. You're cunt quite literally throbbing for more, you'd cum but she's still left unsated.

You clearly needed something much bigger and harder than your flimsy little digits.

You unconsciously back up deeper into the bushels of hay around, putting distance between you as Toji gets closer.

"Tsk, tsk, nuh-uh Bunny, none of that shit. Not when I just caught you being such a whore for me."

You gulp, your heart racing as he crouches over you. Toji removes his work gloves, discarding them as he forces you to lay back on the soft hay.

“How sweet of you to prep yourself for me babydoll. But, Bunny, you dumb little girl, you’re too careless. What if it wasn’t me who walked in 'ere and saw you playing with my pussy?”

You didn't think of that, when you had so brazenly snuck up without him noticing to nab his work shirt.

Initially, you wanted to just be annoying to him again, too bored of being in the house all morning. At first you recoiled when you touched his soggy shirt, yet that all flipped once you caught of whiff of his scent.

Toji smelled of a farm but somehow that smell mixed with sweat, musk and notes of his aftershave hit you straight in your cunt. Your panties becoming just as drenched as the shirt in your hands.

You didn't realize Toji, grimy from farm work, could still smell so good.

Knowing it was far past the time for anyone to come milk cows, you headed straight to that barn. You just wanted some alone time, where you'd be free to touch yourself while thinking of the ridiculously sexy ex-con farmhand.

To say Toji had been plaguing your thoughts and dreams for the past few weeks would have been a massive understatement. You were obsessed with him. Him and his irritatingly smug expression, accentuated by his scar that made him appear all the more dangerous—you wanted him to fuck you—your uncles warnings be damned.

"You tryna get me to do more time, girl? Ya know Bunny, I'd kill anyone who touched you, if your uncle didn't get to 'em first."

Your face is hot with embarrassment but your cunt is also burning up—thinking you might die if he doesn’t actually touch you soon.

Letting his coveralls drop unceremoniously to the floor, he shrugs off his remaining clothes.

Toji's calloused hands, smudged with oil and grime, grab your hips and yank you to him. You yelp and his cock twitches even harder at your cute lil noises, smearing pre on your already soaked thighs.

Toji presses his sweaty body onto yours. It's cool in the barn but Toji's heat is so intense you feel like you are out in the sun again. Having him on top of you like this finally is overwhelming your senses. Toji is intoxicating and you're so feral with need for him it makes you dizzier than a heatstroke.

Fuck, you looked so ready for him.

He'd love you take his time to really break you in—make you fall apart until he's screwed every word out of your head but his own name.

Tch—but there's about 10 more minutes left of his break—and a good 15 or so more after that before anyone notices he's not where he should be.

Toji would reluctantly have to make this quick. Snatching your dress off overhead, he tosses it across the barn.

Mouth latching to one of your stiffened nipples, Toji simultaneously bullies his cockhead past your entrance, sinking into your slippery cunt.

Both of your collective groans fill the barn.

Goddamn, you're fuckin' tight.

Your eyes go wide and moisture pricks your vision as the sting of his girthy cock splitting you open nearly brakes you. You weren't a virgin by any means, and you knew Toji was huge—but shit—it was way bigger in thickness and length than you could have imagined.

Toji has to physically take your legs and wrap them around his body so they stop convulsing.

You whine for him to wait a moment but he couldn't—he didn't have the time.

Toji cups your face, unintentionally smearing dirt across your warm pristine lil' cheek.

"Daddy doesn't have time to wait for ya Bunny, can't get caught by y'er mean ole uncle, yeah?"

"*sniffs* I-I know, b-but—"

"No buts, baby—you want me to fuck ya, rite? Then just lay back and be good doll—promise I'll make ya feel good, eh?"

You can't stop the tears that roll down your cheeks, the burning still evident in your cunt as your walls spasm around him. Toji nuzzles your neck, grunts fanning across your sweetly scented skin as he begins moving his hips.

Soon the sounds of wet flesh smacking, resound in the barn with every harsh thrust of Toji's broad hips. The sloppy squelching noises your pussy cries out has Toji feeling like she's talking directly to him.

Sweat drips off his brow and onto your face as he pulls back a bit to see just how well your slutty lil' hole is globbling him right up—you already frothing a ring of cream around his base like such a good girl—like you were made to take his dick.

Your teeth bite into his shoulder and your nails rake red streaks across his back when his fat cockhead brushes against your g-spot.

Instantly, the shocks vibrating in your cunt overtake any remaining discomfort from your pussy accommodating his massive cock. Your tiddies bounce violently whe he picks up speed rocking into your cunt—spurred on by your cute bites gnawing into him.

Toji would mark you up similarly.

God you were so fuckin' wet though, milking him so well.

For all the trouble you gave him your lil' pussy was obedient as hell once she got a lil' dick in her.

"T-Tojiiiii, puh-leaseee k-kiss me, Daddy!"

Slurring, you gaze up at him, eyes blown out in pleasure begging for more of him—for anything he'd give you.

"Yeah, baby, Bunny wants Daddy to kiss her, hm?"

You frantically nod, your whole body is tingling. You just want to feel him consume you completely, all parts of you.

"Heh, of course I'll kiss my lil' bunny—only if ya let me cum ya—m-motherfuck—ya know how long its been since I had pussy this good doll? Gotta cum in 'er."

Mewling under him, you're easily left at his mercy—yet Toji would show you none, devouring you just as greedily as you wanted him to. Your body responds so well to his praises, so needy for them and Toji doesn't mind indulging you when you're being this sweet for him.

Throwing your legs onto his shoulders, Toji raises your ass off the hay onto his knees as he folds your body in half—fucking into you deeper, abusing your cervix as he smashed his lips onto yours.

Truthfully, there's no way in hell Toji would pull out now.

Making the decision for you, the kiss Toji gives you is searing hot. Sucking on your tongue, Toji has you melting you completely under him, your pussy clamping harder around him. His deviant tongue and heavy cock fucking you into submission.

Hell, she was begging him to cum in her even if you weren't or couldn't—you looked absolutely gone—like not even the smallest thought lived in your fucked out lil' head.

Even when Toji pulls back to allow you air his lips never leave yours, biting your kiss swollen bottom lip almost to the point of drawing blood.

You tighten even more than Toji thought possible in the moment once he forced your mouth open and spits into it and your instantly swallowing it—sticking your tongue out for more.

Oh? Bunny becomes such a dirty whore once you're fucking her silly, eh?

Toji wonders what else of his you'd swallow. He'd save that for next time though.

For now Toji had to finish you, he was running out of time. Besides, he was speaking true earlier, he really hadn't had good pussy—pussy at all—in literal fuckin' years. Toji didn't think he could last much longer in a hole with as much wet suction as yours, even if he did have more time.

Slipping a hand between your slick bodies, Toji is now furiously thumbing circles on your sensitive clit.

"C'mon, Bunny baby, cum for Daddy, yeah? Squirt on this dick, just like you did your fingers earlier, doll."

Your body, utterly under the spell of his engorged cock which was currently digging into your kidneys, can't do anything but obey him.

Tumbling over your peak, you do as he asks, splashing fluids onto his pelvis, abs and chest with how much squirt he has gushing out of you.

Your head lulls back and Toji has to clasp his hand over your mouth from how loud you started screaming.

His own release follows soon after. Pumping his extra-thick load, all built up and saved over the years for a pussy as sweet as yours, into your well-fucked-open cunt.

Curses and swears pour out of Toji's mouth as remains side you, still pistoning in you with fervor through both your orgasms. Toji doesn't leave the snug warmth of your gooey core until you squeezed out every single drop he had to give you.

Pulling out, Toji immediately rolls over next to you as not to crush you further. Yet, like a magnet, his needy lil' bunny is curling up against his side, a sleepy sated expression on your angelic face.

Toji hated to leave, but he had to haul ass now if he wasn't gonna get caught.

A crude form of aftercare, but Toji hoses the both of you down.

The cold water snapping you from your lethargic afterglow immediately as you pouted and whined—the brat in you almost instantly returning.

But Toji couldn't just let you sleep ass naked, covered in his cum in the hay for your uncle to find you or worse—another prisoner to find you.

Toji was serious. He really would kill someone if they tried anything with you, he'd taken many innocent lives before as a former hitman—he had no qualms killing some no good convicts.

Setting you upright, Toji finds your dress in the hay and puts it on you. It's soiled and dusty but he straightens it enough so you're at least halfway presentable.

Toji knows you're clever enough to think of a lie if questioned further.

Although, you'd better back to the main house quickly, in case those hickies he gave you start showing up. Toji smirks to himself.

Sending you on your way with quick sloppy kiss and a firm smack on the ass, he lets you leave first.

After waiting a few minutes, Toji exits the barn, grinning devilishly upon seeing you.

You're halfway back up the hill to the house by now, but you still steal glances back at him every few paces. Still panting, you're too shy now to meet his own eyes for longer than a second with your coy smiles.

Toji chuckles.

He had you hooked.

Hah, a slut like you? You'd probably be begging for his cock all throughout the day from now on.

However, Toji knows if he keeps fucking you like this he'll soon get you pregnant.

But ya know? That might not be half bad though.

This simple farm life had been a nice change of pace.

And who wouldn't want a young n' tender cunt like yours to dump in daily? Toji would keep you stuffed full, belly round with his kids and soft tiddies full of milk—for his consumption only.

Toji muses once he had finished fucking the brat out of you, Bunny, you'd become the perfect lil' wifey.

It be good for Megumi to have a mom again and some siblings to keep em busy. Toji would finally have a decent place to raise him too, away from the city and his toxic as fuck family who'd Megumi had been with since the first time his dad got locked in the slammer.

Not to mention—the farm was a perfect cover for his con activities that he couldn't wait to back start up.

He'd only able to do so much with the burner phone Shiu smuggled-in for him, concealing in a shipment of animal feed.

Heh.

All Toji needed now was to knock you up, apply pressure on your strict, God-fearing parents to agree to the marriage, and then orchestrate an 'untimely and unfortunate accident' for your uncle. Thereby leaving the farm and the substantial inheritance to you—and by proxy—to him.

Yeah, FarmHand!Toji planned to become Farmer!Toji real soon.

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

☼ a/n: y'all toji be making me write the most twisted nastiest things for him. i realize soft toji just don't do it for me like depraved toxic morally corrupt toji does, i really would let this man ruin my credit fr y'all, he can have it all.

i didn't expect to write this, all in a day but im at the beck and call of my main mans. otaku!gojo and nerd!gero lovers dun hurt me. taglist in reblogs.

☼ comments and reblogs appreciated ‪‪❤︎‬

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 02. LOST IN TIME AND SPACE

a/n: logan angst with this fic is all i've been thinking about. mainly because he's the kind of man to swallow all of his feelings until it eventually kills him. so that's super fun to work with. and that scenario is basically this entire chapter. so please root for him, but also know he's not even close to dealing with his trauma. also the x-men timeline remains convoluted as fuck, so if the past of the logan who died doesn't make sense it is what it is. this is fanfic and we're all here to fuck him.

summary: the past is a thing he couldn't ignore. yet he still tried. and when the opportunity to spend a day with you utterly alone arises, he realizes that perhaps he doesn't want to forget about what brought him here.

word count: 6.6k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, angsty as fuck, some fluff, grieving a past he can never have back, logan goes through it, kissing, he's horny, me slightly abusing my literature degree, heartache, panic attacks.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Logan never liked when the city fell silent. He hated the city in general. It unnerved him; scratched angrily against his chest until he couldn't find the peace he strived for. The city at night was filled with small noises—bangs in the distance, shouts of drunks wasted in the streets, and people finally turning in for the night.

They reminded him of the wars, the echoey expanse of nothing. Where every sound set his teeth on edge.

The cheap leather fabric of the couch stuck to his skin as he turned. He shoved his body into a standing position—his hands curling into fists. His skin remained sticky with a thin layer of sweat which only served to incense him further. Given the apartment's shitty air system, he'd be struggling through this for most of the summer. A fact he tried his best to ignore in the hopes that the fall weather would reveal itself sooner.

With a groan, he stripped himself of the thin tank top that clung to his skin. It didn't help to ease the humidity that hung in the air. It barely helped to cool off his body. But he'd take what he could get when what he could get was so little.

Wade's snoring echoed through the thin walls as he stood there, his body begging for a bit of sleep. Even if his mind refused to shut off. Images of you played through his head on a loop. The past was shadowed in pain, memories dipped in a venom he once wished would kill him eventually. Yet seeing you yesterday—a version that remained untouched by the depravity of what already happened—launched him back into a time that never seemed to be very far behind.

"You weren't there! And they needed you."

Silver ebbed from his knuckles as he faced the window—eyes shut and chest heaving. There was no question the sweat came from the humidity in the air. The cold chill along his spine however stemmed from you.

"You're not the Wolverine Logan. You're just a disappointment."

He fought the snarl that worked its way up his throat. A heavy pounding began to form at the front of his head. A drum he couldn't escape.

"Live with that."

If he opened his eyes. If he refused to give the memories even an inch of space in his mind. He'd have caught you standing there rummaging in the kitchen. A mug of tea forgotten on the counter the second you caught a glimpse of him getting up from the couch. You tugged at your sleep shorts as you stumbled towards the window—eyes heavy with sleep that simply wouldn't come.

Most nights it was easy. Long days at work left you utterly exhausted. To a point where staying awake felt odd and incomplete.

Tonight felt like hell.

No matter how many times you tossed and turned, you couldn't get the thoughts to settle. And all of them seemed to filter their way back to the man who currently faced you—his eyes shut and fists adorned with silver claws that slowly slid their way to freedom. You nearly dropped your kettle when he tore off his shirt, revealing sweat slicked skin lit up by the streetlights outside.

If you were braver you'd ask him to come over, join you in a sleepless night. But he had yet to see you standing there and you weren't one to draw attention to yourself.

So you stood and watched as he fought with whatever must have woken him up so late in the night. You witnessed his battle and wished you could be the one helping him. Maybe then he'd finally fall asleep soundlessly. His mind clear—body free of phantom aches from injuries that still haunted him. He may heal incredibly fast, but the mind...that took far too long to piece itself back together.

Before you could turn away, back to your now cold mug of tea, his eyes opened. Fixating immediately on your form in the window.

Few people in his life were able to calm the thunderous storms he weathered in his own mind. Jean and Charles did what they could. They brought back what he once thought was lost forever. Even you attempted to ease him from what he lived through—what he endured.

But that seemed to be the one thing your variant self was unable to comprehend.

He didn't need someone to fix him. He wanted someone to see him. To understand that there was no cure for a person this broken, no easy way out when things got this bad. He stood before you as a man riddled with far too much—scars that you'd never be able to see—yet he could see no hesitation in your eyes.

Something pulled at his stomach at the sight of you in small shorts and a tank top. Your skin exposed to the city as you watched him carefully. You analyzed him in a way that didn't make him want to put up a facade. And he found he liked it when you looked at him like this; with a burning need to know more clear in your gaze.

Your eyes trailed up his stomach, lingering on the hair that dipped down into his sweats. He wanted you to be here. Or him to be there. The location didn't matter as long as he could reach out and touch you—feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm.

Minutes passed before your gaze found his face and Logan felt an itch in his body at the notion that you were fascinated by him. That even in a different universe with completely different memories, you couldn't help but be drawn to the man he was.

The horror of destroying another version of you should have made him want to turn away from the window.

Then you smiled.

A slow sleepy grin that lit up your face. You probably didn't think anything of it—simply a small offer of kindness in your shared sleepless night. Logan however swallowed it down as if you'd given him the best tasting whiskey on this planet. His chest tightened, head dazed as you stood there looking with enough reverence to kill him.

If only he could see the way your insides melted at the sight of him smiling back. The thoughts of lust and like racing through your mind the longer you stood there.

Eventually the sun would come up, you'd be called to work, and this would become a brief passing memory you'd both hold onto down the road.

Until that moment though you remained in this spot. Fighting the drowsiness for a chance to watch him a bit longer. To trace your eyes along his body and soak in the expressions that played across his weary face.

You could feel the prick of sleep in your eyes, your body dizzy as it begged for you to finally give in and crawl back into bed. Yet how could you leave him there? How could you walk away?

He seemed to catch the way you bit back a yawn and chuckled. Pressing his hand to the warm window, he nodded at you. To anyone else on the street it might look nonsensical—comical even. To you his message was loud and clear: Go to bed and I'll be here in the morning. I promise.

Reluctance yanked at your heart when he nodded again, his hand falling back to his side. Yet no matter how hard you tried to keep yourself awake—if only to steal another second of his gaze on your body—you knew it was futile. Fighting sleep never went well in the morning when coffee was your only salvation. With another smile, you waved slightly—pressing your hand to the window briefly as if to respond to his silence with some of your own.

Sleep well. I'll find you in the morning. I promise.

Logan woke up to the blaring horn of a taxi right outside. The shout of a man bounced off the buildings, cussing about traffic and for someone to get the fuck out of his way. He groaned, turning to his side in the hopes of catching another thirty minutes. But the city was alive and thrumming with its own heart beat.

To others the echo might have been familiar—peaceful.

To Logan it was like nails being dragged along a chalkboard.

"I fuckin' hate this city," he growled, getting to his feet and snatching his tank top from where he'd left it last night.

Surprisingly the apartment rang out with a sound he had yet to experience in this place. Silence. He peeked in the bedrooms briefly, expecting to find Wade still passed out. An empty room was all that greeted him—the fucking stuffed unicorn propped up perfectly on a surprisingly made bed. There was only one reason Wade tidied up his room.

Vanessa.

She was coming by here or Wade was going with her. Either way Logan didn't want to be around to hear what came next. He'd been privy to one too many nights of Wade reconciling his differences with Vanessa and all of them ended with Logan's head beneath a pillow. That or he snuck out to wander the city at night until he finally returned to a quiet apartment.

For a brief moment he wondered if he could find you at your place; his eyes settled on the view of your window across the one way street. The lights looked off, the living room empty. And he craved to know where in this city you disappeared to during the day. Where did you work?

Would you mind if he visited you there? If he took some time to hear your voice, see your smile.

He grabbed the shitty coffee bag that was tossed on the counter. No doubt due to Wade making some this morning. The machine was old, nearly broken, but it would make do for the time being. A neon yellow sticky note was stuck to the top—the scrawl of Wade's handwriting familiar.

Good morning peanut! Coffee is hot like you. Don't call me. Don't beep me. Because you don't need to reach me today. If you do, I'm at Ness's scoring for tens all across the board. I'm talking the head—

Logan groaned, crumpling the note and tossing it on the counter. Knowing information that Wade would probably tell him anyways wasn't how he wanted to start his afternoon. The cabinet creaked as he opened it, the plain blue mug he claimed as his sat in the front.

Another yellow sticky attached to it.

OF CHAMPIONS. I knew you wouldn't finish reading the note you gorgeous Canadian/Australian bastard.

P.S. Sweet angel's number. I was told to give it to you.

P.P.S. GET. SOME. (For the both of us.)

A crude drawing of Deadpool fucking the air was scribbled in the corner. The details were far too graphic for him to look at longer than a few seconds. Logan would have tossed the entire mug in the trash, but your number enticed him to stick it to the fridge as he made coffee strong enough to make the hair stand up on his arms. He glanced at it every few minutes, tracing the numbers as he considered what this meant.

Was this you telling him in simple terms that you wanted to get to know him? That his past and whatever he buried was something you wanted to learn.

His gaze burned a hole into the yellow paper as he drank his coffee, his mind racing at the possibility of speaking to you today. Some cash was stowed in the trunk Laura dragged from the previous Logan's home. Her claim was that he deserved to have it. Since he might have understood what it meant more than she did.

From what he could tell this universe's Logan was saving up for something—the wad of cash in the bottom of the trunk remained enough for him to get by until he found a stable place to set up a home. Somewhere near the mansion that still existed. He wasn't prepared to be a part of that life again just yet, but that remained the only spot that felt like home to him.

Even in a different universe.

Snatching the note off the fridge he grabbed his flannel, boots, and enough cash to last through the day. He had no location in mind. But knowing you wanted to spend time with him became the motivator he needed to actually leave the apartment.

The city was bursting with life—sounds filling the air as if it would replace the oxygen they consumed. He did what he could to ignore it. Slipping past people with ease, his eyes fixed on the small store that sat on the corner. He debated on ordering from the cafe across the street, wondering if you liked the place. If you came here for coffee and breakfast on days off.

He made a note to ask.

Thankfully the shop wasn't crowded with people—a shitty pop song blasted over the speakers. One he knew Wade would play to piss off your next door neighbors. Whether or not you actually liked Wade's music taste never crossed his mind. Or did you go along with it? Willing to do what it took to make them suffer.

"Just this," he grunted, tossing enough cash down to cover the bill and then some.

The burner phone was small in his palm as he yanked it out of the box and flipped it on. He didn't bother with getting an actual phone. What the fuck did he need that for? But this...he could do to make you entering his life a bit easier.

Every part of him screamed to push you away—make you hate him—but for the first time in his life, Logan didn't listen.

The shop door swung shut behind him as he dug out the sticky note, punching your number in carefully to not miss a single digit. Somehow in the midst of chaos, he was able to shut off the city noise when the phone began to ring. Half of him expected you not to answer. It was the middle of the day, you were at work, and this was probably more a hindrance than anything else.

Your voice filtering through the small speaker put his worries at ease within seconds.

"Hello?"

His heart jumped as he exhaled. "I hear you gave Wade directions this morning."

"Logan?" you asked, voice louder than before. The echo of someone shushing you came through, making him smile.

"Hey Honey."

A shaky breath left your lips. Logan felt his stomach clench at the realization you liked when he called you that.

"I didn't know you had a phone," you replied, much softer than before. "Wade told me you were too old for technology."

"Don't listen to anything that mouth tells you."

You laughed, breathy and cute, and he bit back a groan at the sound. "I'm glad he was wrong."

"He normally is."

"Where are you today?" Shuffling and a door shutting caught his attention as your voice rose in volume again.

A horn went off beside him, piercing his hearing. "Standin' on the street."

"Near our places?"

Oh he liked the sound of that. "Mhm." Another soft breath reached his ears; he felt his body go warm. "Where are you today honey?"

"Work." If he could see through the call, he'd catch you smiling. How your teeth dug into your bottom lip to stop the embarrassing giggle that nearly spilled free. "Do you...um...do you want to see it?"

The words slammed into his chest like a truck. The innuendo nearly enough to make him drop to one knee here in the middle of the street. And suddenly Wade's note came back to his mind. The crude drawing flaring to life as he pictured you saying those exact words in an entirely different situation. If he was a better man his jeans wouldn't have tightened. If he was a better man he'd have ignored it altogether.

Logan wished he was a better man. You longed for him not to be.

He cleared his throat, his grip tightening around the phone. "Where?"

"New York Public Library."

Vaguely the directions came back to him from decades past. He wondered if the building sat in the same spot on this universe as his own. In a rush of words, you gave him some instruction. He agreed to be there as soon as he could.

"See you soon Logan." The excitement wasn't hard to pick from your voice. That still didn't stop him from trying.

"Wait–"

"Yes?"

He turned. "Rosemary's? You like their coffee?"

Another laugh escaped you in a breath and Logan felt the walls around his heart chip. "Love."

Twenty minutes later you were greeting him on the side of the building with a smile he felt down to his adamantium bones. A warm coffee was pressed into your hand, a sandwich tucked safely into a small paper bag in the other. For the entire afternoon he formulated things to say to you, stories to tell. Yet all that came now was an awkward smile and a greeting that made his chest burn uncomfortably.

You thought nothing of it. Even as you led him inside and asked him about his morning. The sight of him holding coffee and wearing a grin was enough for you to lose it a little. The breath knocking from your lungs, warmth spilling into your stomach.

"I didn't know what you wanted–"

Taking another sip, you grinned at the glimpse of red that dusted the tips of his ears. "I don't mind what you got."

A stain of soft pink remained on the cup; Logan's eyes attached to it within seconds. You could see the way his pupils dilated slightly—his throat bobbing at the sight of something so small and delicate. That didn't help the way your heart flipped whenever he was near. As if he'd taken control of all your emotions—all the baseline wants that you could normally ignore.

"What do you do here?" he rasped, focusing on the way you watched him. Though the glaze of sleep was gone from your eyes, the way you analyzed him still remained.

"Archives."

Unlocking another door, you led him down a flight of stairs. The elevator would have been the easier route, but he didn't possess a badge nor a library card. You were pretty sure he wouldn't have gotten one either way. So sneaking him in was the way to go until you could convince him otherwise. What you didn't know was that you could have asked anything of him—anything you wanted—and he'd agree without hesitation.

He followed close behind, unwilling to let you get a few feet away. As if he was drawn to you in ways that didn't seem possible.

"I work on making sure things are properly placed in the correct spot. Older books, newspapers from decades ago, stuff like that."

Humming, he watched as you opened the final door—letting him see the grand room that lay below filled with an infinite row of bookcases. Boxes that had yet to be gone through, files not placed properly, and piles of books that stacked on rows of tables. Each one contained a certain label of where they belonged.

"So a librarian?"

Laughing, you shut the door behind him with a soft click. "Kind of. I'm not working upstairs and handing out books like the actual librarians do. We hermits down in the basement prefer the term archivist."

"Hermits," he huffed. "You don't look like a hermit to me."

"Looks can be deceiving Logan."

That was a fact he knew too well. One that kept him up at night, replayed in his dreams without end. Oftentimes he wondered if he'd been the one to deceive. If his persona and reluctance to help gave others the impression that he was the man to turn to. The hero they needed. He never asked to be seen that way—never wanted it—yet when the time came...he couldn't run away from the truth.

The idea of telling you all this came to him last night as he watched you walk back to your room.

What stopped him was the image of the other you, grief stricken and horrified as he stumbled home from the bar.

"I have some questions for you." Your voice pulled him from his thoughts.

The small table in the back was free of books and you took a seat, pulling your sandwich from the paper. He took the chair across from you, his legs bumping into yours as he tried to cram them in the small space. The apology was quick to land on his tongue. Although your smile and the feel of your ankle curving around his leg killed it instantaneously.

"I'm hoping you have some answers."

He swallowed thickly, ignoring the way you shifted—your knee brushing his. "Now that depends."

"On?"

"Are they easy questions?" He grinned at the way you spoke around your mouthful of food—intrigue lighting up your eyes.

You slid half the sandwich towards him, not pretending to see the way he tried to refuse. He took a bite when your foot jammed in his calf. A pointed look crossing your face as if to say: eat because I know you haven't.

"What am I like?"

He nearly choked on the bread. "Do you mean..."

With a nod, you grabbed another bite, oblivious to the way his tongue swiped along his bottom lip. His eyes fixed on the way your teeth sunk into the meal and oil spread at the corner of your mouth. Tearing the sandwich in half would have been the better option. Biting where he mouth was seemed to be what you liked better.

His insides stirred deliciously, heat forming at the way your lashes fluttered at the taste.

"The other me," you mumbled, giving him the rest. "You said we were friends." When he didn't respond you kept going. "Wade alluded that we might have been...more than friends."

Fucking Wade Wilson.

Logan leaned back, his hand curling into fists in his lap as he once again fought the urge to take off. "He sure likes to run his goddamn mouth."

Anxiety sparked in your chest and you fell silent. Perhaps it wasn't the right time to bring it up. Or even something to bring up. Yet curiosity always ate you alive—the idea of not knowing the full truth. And when Wade briefly said Logan was still pining over a version of you that didn't exist on this Earth, you tried not to let it consume you.

You fought against your baser instincts in the hopes that one day he'd tell you himself.

Then he showed up. Offering you coffee and friendship and possibly more.

How could you ignore it then?

You knew he was watching you, could feel the burn of his eyes along the side of your face. Silence echoed loudly in the room as the old wooden bookshelves creaked and the chatter of people upstairs began to filter down below.

"I'm sorry," you uttered, doing what you could to move past whatever this was. "I shouldn't have asked. We can go look at some stuff if you want. I have newspapers from the seventies you might want to see–"

"I loved you."

You froze, head whipping around to meet his solemn gaze.

"On my Earth you were mine." With a sigh, he leaned forward. "And I fucked it all up. No I didn't just fuck it up. I ruined you."

"Logan..." you breathed. "I'm not them."

"I know." Sorrow flooded his hazel eyes—the grief playing across his face like a film you shouldn't be watching. And for the first time...you saw the man Wade spoke about. The broken version of a Logan that was found in a bar wallowing on his own world. "But I can't do that to you again. I won't."

This wasn't an omission of the truth. Nor a confession of his greatest sins. This was a promise lined with the guilt of his past. Memories of a time you'd never witness played out in his mind and he longed to show them to you.

To give you a piece of what he once had with a version of you that loathed his existence now.

But that isn't why he happened upon you on this Earth. History would remain exactly as it was. He couldn't change that. However, this—whatever he shared with you now—he could keep safe. The promise he made so long ago might finally be shown the respect he never thought to give it before.

"Come with me," you said softly, standing with a hand outstretched for him to take.

With a hesitant breath, he wrapped his calloused palm around yours and let you take the lead.

Past bookshelves and rows of boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling, you stopped at a shelf marked with words he'd seen a thousand times before. X-MEN. You tugged a box free and carried it to the table behind you—the top flipping open with ease as he caught sight of the pile of papers within. A list was taped to the side of what this might contain. Names he knew, people that might still exist on this Earth.

"This is all we know about the Logan in this universe." You pulled out a file, a picture of his variant clipped on top. He was rugged—aged.  "It's not much, but it shows a bit of his past."

"Why are you showing me this?"

"So you can see what others see."

You handed him a photo of the X-Men. Jean and Scott stood on either side of Charles. Logan was off to the side, a cigar in his mouth and a cocksure grin on his lips. He hated the man before he knew him. Always hearing how fucking wonderful he was; how great a hero he used to be.

He selfishly wanted to be everything this version of himself was.

He wanted to be the hero he could never amount to.

"What happened to 'em?"

You glanced at the image, pulling another file out. The name punched the breath from his lungs as you flipped it open. JEAN GREY: ALIAS - PHOENIX. An image of her smiling at a lecture was pulled free—her hair red and down to her waist.

"I don't know much, because well Charles Xavier never disclosed information about the X-Men lightly. But...something happened to her. From what we know...Logan was the one to kill her."

The file fell on the table, his heart twisting violently in his chest as the words flooded his mind. He killed her. He killed Jean. The woman he once loved before you came into his life. Something severed in his body, the breath in his lungs was suddenly hard to come by. But the touch of your hand on his kept him from completely falling into that dark pit he fought to climb out of.

"He–" Logan sucked in a breath and shut his eyes to the image of Jean. "He killed her?"

You nodded, silent while he processed the information. Showing this to him wasn't an act of malice—he knew that. You didn't want him to suffer. You simply wanted to prove that the Logan that once existed wasn't the greatest to have ever lived. He was simply a man suffering the plight of guilt the universe handed him.

He had his own cross to bear. His own nightmares to fight through.

In some ways...they weren't so different.

"You're not the worst Logan," you admitted, letting him lean into you. "And he wasn't the best Logan." Your hand pressed to his cheek, eyes soft and warm. "He was just a man who was offered a terrible hand in life."

Logan huffed, his forehead finding yours as he breathed in your scent. "So you're sayin' I'm just a man?"

"I'm saying that the James Howlett in this universe probably thought he was the worst Logan too."

The words shouldn't have struck him the way they did. Their truth, louder than anything in this building. But the blunt and hardened reality stared him in the fucking face, and he had no choice but to meet it's gaze. The Logan of this world wasn't perfect. He fucked up. He ruined things. Yet he found a way to fix them. Put the pieces back together in order to obtain something that resembled the image of his life.

As much as he fought to claim he wasn't anything like the Logan that once walked this Earth.

He was finding it hard to see where they differed.

"Show me somethin' happy honey," he replied gruffly, his hand finding your hip with ease. "Show me somethin' you like."

The smile you rewarded him with placed some breath back into his chest. "What like books?"

"If that's what you love."

"I don't think we have enough time."

His hold on your hip tightened. "'M here all day."

"Yeah?" Turning away from him, you dug through the box. Down to the very bottom. "They found these at what they think is his grave."

Silver flashed in his vision before you were pressing a pair of dog tags into his hand. The name WOLVERINE was etched into the metal—its cold touch practically burned the skin of his palm. For years he thought he'd never see these again. A piece of his past he couldn't bring with him.

"I thought you'd want to have them."

"They're his," he croaked.

"And you're the Wolverine. They're as much yours as they were his."

Fingers closed around them as the chains dangled from his hand, and Logan felt his heart place another bit back into the correct spot. He never believed he belonged with people. Never wanted to hurt them. Yet life continued to surprise him. The metal was familiar to his touch. Years of toying with them, of having their comfort on his chest, kept him sane at some points. It helped to remind him of who he was.

Without even realizing it...you gave that back to him.

He wanted to tell you how much this meant. How grateful he felt. But he was never good with words.

So he pressed his lips to your cheek and let them linger there as heat pulsed in your body. The race of your heart made him grin. Simply knowing you liked him hiked up his ego in ways he didn't need at a time like this. But like the Logan that came before...he was a sucker when it came to resisting the aspect of love.

"Show me around bub."

You slid your hand into his, your lips nearly brushing as you turned to catch his gaze. "Okay."

"Why work there?"

The city at night exuded a different kind of energy that you frequently craved during the day. A fun lightness that normally hit when the clock struck six p.m. and people were finally out of work. You were allowed to leave earlier than expected due to a birthday gathering of coworkers going on downtown.

An invitation was offered. Until they saw Logan standing behind you and your plans for the night became clear.

"I love history." He offered to walk you home. You accepted on the single condition that he'd stay for dinner. "How humanity went from one thing to the next and so on."

He scoffed and wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you out of the way of someone barreling by. "You don't have to explain that part to me bub. You're lookin' at a man who lived it."

"Did you?" The look you gave him had the feelings of want he pushed down earlier rearing their head. "Actually live through it?"

"I was born in 1832."

With a gasp, you clutched his arm. "Were you really?" you exclaimed. "That means you saw so much of history. Things we might not have written down."

And suddenly within moments...there you were from his world. Bright and beautiful and in love with the past. At first he believed it was due to your abilities; now he understood that's just who you were deep down. Always in love with what you couldn't fully figure out—the past you could see if you managed to travel back far enough.

"You have to let me pick your brain for facts."

He tugged you closer, stopping off to the side of the busy street, until you were stuck in his hold with nowhere to look but up at him. "Picking my brain ain't gonna be fun honey."

Your eyes were wide, lips parted slightly. "I disagree."

"You forget. Different universe. The history I know might be different from the one you know."

No matter how hard you tried, you could never hide the disappointment that flooded your eyes. "I'm sure it's not that different."

"Hm." He pressed a thumb to the top of your cheekbone, struck by how soft your skin felt beneath his. "Why don't you tell me yours. And then maybe I'll tell you mine."

The double entendre was layered in the lust that clouded his vision—the need that burned in his stomach. Logan hoped you understood it. Could see how much he ached for you. How you affected him since he first caught a glimpse of you yesterday. And seeing your pupils dilate, your chest heaving slightly, made his swell with pride. Saliva filled his mouth at the thought of one day getting a taste of you, but the sound of a horn going off behind him shattered the moment.

You stepped back with a deep inhale, your hand still in his. Which only served to prove Logan's point.

He fucking hated the city.

"Dinner?" you breathed, voice raspy with that feeling you tried to fight against.

Logan managed to turn you inside out. Pulling exactly where he needed to expose your heart. That alone should have terrified you. Yet the thrill of knowing him, of seeing where this might lead, kept you enamored and wanting for more.

"Lead the way."

What plans you created and meal you planned to order were lost the second you ascended the stairs to your apartment and stood in front of your door. The silence of the building was deafening compared to the noise outside. So much so that every breath you took echoed loud against the shitty yellow stained walls. Logan could hear the thump of your heart as it rammed within your chest. Quickening the closer he stepped towards you.

You turned, your back to the door and eyes dazed—unfocused. "I can order something."

His nostrils flared as your familiar scent began to deepen, mix with the arousal that seeped through your body. "That could work."

"What do you like to eat?"

The smile he gave you could only be described as canine. Near feral. "Dangerous question honey."

"What do you–" Shock flashed in your eyes, heat spilling into your face as the words finally processed. "Oh."

Logan wasn't hungry in a way that might seem normal to you. He didn't want to taste you, he wanted to devour. To feel you in ways that would scare you shitless. He craved you potently—viscerally. And perhaps it would scare you off.

Although something told him it wouldn't.

Silence no longer felt all consuming and horrid when he took one more step, crowding you against your door. You should have kept the conversation going. Laughed it off with a flippant smile and an offer of real food. Though neither of you could give a shit about dinner. That fact became evident the second he cupped the back of your neck and slotted his lips against yours.

A moan of surprise tore from your throat and Logan let out a growl to match. He kissed you fervently. Lips pressed hard and hot against yours, tongue sliding along your teeth, and somehow it never felt like enough. He'd dreamed of this for years. For the taste of you again, the gentle grip of your hands that dug into his hair and pulled.

That alone sent a groan echoing down the hallway, his body colliding with yours as your back hit the door. Your teeth found his bottom lip while his hands slid down to your ass, gripping and tugging until you could feel the prominent bulge through the denim of his jeans.

"Logan," you gasped, your tongue meeting his with another sharp tug on hair.

He slammed a hand against the door beside your head, his hips rutting down as you met the movement with one of your own. You wanted to drag him inside. Needed to feel his bare skin on yours. But something pulled tight against your chest as he stuttered into the kiss. The unfamiliar sound of his claws sliding out and puncturing the wood of your door made you jump.

"Sorry," he muttered, sliding his lips down your throat—teeth nipping the vein. "Happens."

"You owe me a door." You sounded breathless.

He brought his lips back to yours with a fury you'd never experienced before. "I'll buy you a new one." Your hips dragged along his, nails digging into the hot skin on the back of his neck. "I’ll fuckin’ make you one," he snarled.

The thought of someone passing by, seeing you nearly held up against your door by a man who's claws were embedded in it, was laughable. Yet you couldn't stop wondering what would happen if you let this go further. If you allowed him to take you right here out in the open.

Logan could smell the way you dripped for him and it drove him fucking insane. His body begged him to keep going. To slam open the door and bury himself in you right there on your kitchen floor. The way you whined into his mouth, rubbing yourself along his crotch, told him you wanted the same.

And he might have done just that.

If they hadn't started.

They're dead because of you!

Memories flashed in his mind with a rage unlike the past few times. Your face, tear stained and rageful. The way you used your powers against him. Tried to kill him for what happened. It all came rushing back with a lungful of air that burned.

I hate you!

"Logan?" You pulled back slightly, hands cupping his face with enough care he could feel the sting of tears start to build. "Are you okay?"

It should've been you that died Logan. Not them.

He sucked in a breath, ripping himself away from and stumbling a few steps back. Fighting against the past wasn't new to him. He'd been broken by it before. But now he couldn't even enjoy the sight of you with swollen lips and ruffled clothes, because all he saw when he closed his eyes was the other you.

The one he broke.

"I'm fine." His voice was raspy as he choked out the words.

A need to help him rang through your body and Logan could see it. He knew how badly you wanted to come to him—to hold him. This simply wasn't your battle to fight. He refused to change that in any way.

Standing up straight, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. An apology for the actions he was about to take.

He only hoped you wouldn't hate him for it afterwards.

"We'll do dinner another night, honey."

"Logan–"

"Goodnight." Walking away from you felt as if he'd ripped a hole in his chest with an adamantium bullet. One that wouldn't heal like before.

The dog tags were now wrapped around his neck, choking him like a collar he couldn't free himself from. A reminder that even the Logan of this world was unable to stop himself from destroying the one he loved. That was the plight they carried.

Their greatest grief. The one thing they had in common.

This...he could accept.

[logaenhowlett]

IF ONLY YOU KNEW PART TWO - L.H.

Summary: Dealing with the aftermath of everything that occurred last night, Logan decides it's time to stop running from his desires. [Set during Logan (2017)]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Themes of grief and death, Language

A/N: Thank you so much for the love on part one! Didn't expect it to blow up that much. Good news is, it gave me the motivation to write more, so I have lots of ideas for Logan fics!

MASTERLIST | PART ONE

Over two hundred years, Death had become all too familiar for Logan. A foe that kept barreling in his direction, but always fizzled out before it reached him, instead striking those he cherished the most. When he was younger, he used to revel in feeling of being indestructible, immortal even. That faded away rather quickly once he realised what a curse it was, a cruel joke he grew tired of. Alas, the universe continued laughing.

He thought he could avoid all the unnecessary pain and misery by severing all ties to humanity, retreating to the ends of the world all by his lonesome. But not even the strongest soldier could resist the craving for connection for that long. When Charles had offered a place in his sanctuary, he refused at first, wondering why the universe always seemed to work against him. 

Eventually, the need to distance himself from everything and everyone became smaller. Charles had given him a home, a family, a sense of belonging and after a while, you. Logan was not one for retrospection, but he often recollects how drastically his life had changed once he’d accepted the responsibility of being an X-Man. How he’d gained a new purpose. He owed everything to Charles Xavier.

The shovel in his hand gets heavier by the second. He stops digging for a moment, sensing a whole lot of anger, sorrow and desperation waiting to burst out of him. He knew the end was near for Charles, ever since the incident the old man was barely hanging on. There were times when he wished Charles would just let go, just stop fighting against his mind and body, for his own sake. But that didn’t make his death hurt any less.

His own exhaustion was catching up to him too, having spent the last few days - hell, the last few months - putting everyone else before himself. He hasn’t been able to rest despite all your efforts.

As the last of the dirt falls onto the grave, Logan staggers backwards, his shoulders knock into the tree. He slides against the trunk a little as his knees begin to loosen under his weight, unsure whether it’ll be the adamantium poisoning or heartache that’ll get him first.

Laura’s sniffling snaps his attention, he watches as she curls into your embrace, nothing you were saying stops the tears from escaping. He can see you’re trying to keep your composure for the little girl, but he knows you’re just inches away from completely breaking down. Charles was the father you’d chosen, he had saved your life just as he’d done for countless others, brought you into his arms and gave you something to live and fight for. He knows you’re as defeated as he is right now. Despite every cell in his body aching to comfort you, he understands you need the time and space to grieve in your own way.

After moments of silence, the three of you return to the car. There wasn’t a lot of time left for Laura to find her friends and cross the border to get to freedom. Logan uses that to ground himself to reality, helping her would be a way to honour Charles, for everything he had done and represented. He vows that he’ll grant her wishes, even if it’s the last thing he’ll do. He owes that to Laura, to Charles and to you.

The stars twinkle miles above, painting the night sky with their luminous hue. Logan pulls into the roadside near a lake, deciding it’s in the best interest of everyone to rest tonight. He steps out the car, scouting for a decent place to start a fire. Laura silently accompanies him to gather wood, her eyes follow you as you wander towards the lake, away from the two of them.

Logan senses her need rush to your side, he shakes his head slightly, understanding her distress, “She’ll be okay, kid.” It comes out a little hoarse, having been the first words he’d spoken all day.

All the smoking he’d done in the last two centuries comes in handy, he uses his lighter to spark flames, tending to it before it settles into a calm fire. He runs his hand down his face, his mind has been in overdrive for too long and all he wants is for one moment of quiet. Where he can surrender, stop trying to survive and just live.

“Why are you hiding?” Laura asks him, holding her hands toward the flame.

“What?”

She turns her head to find you in the distance sitting down on the grass with your feet in the water, “From her.”

Logan follows her line of sight, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid.” 

“You want to die. Charles told me.”

He scoffs, the name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, “What else did he tell you?”

“To not let you.” She stands, finally meeting his eyes. “Tell her. If you want to be happy.” She doesn’t stick around for his response, instead making her way back to the car to sleep.

Her words strike a chord in him, he huffs lightly, ducking his head into his chest. What the hell did she know? Happiness wasn’t something he envisioned for himself. No, that often came in the form of alcohol or stupid cage fights. He never let himself indulge in anything else, having learned his lessons from what seems like a lifetime ago. 

The leaves crunching under your footsteps draws his attention, you sit down an arm's length away, prodding the fire with a stick. He doesn’t know how to address the giant elephant hanging in between the two of you. Last night, when you’d asked the question, the answer was right there on the tip of his tongue. So easy and so simple. But he withdrew, in such a cowardly manner too, deflecting as if he doesn’t ache for you with each passing day.

“He taught me how to play chess.”

He studies you for a brief moment, the tear tracks on your face shine against the orange hue of the fire.

“We used to sit every day, in the garden, I’d run straight to him after classes were done.” You continue, a fond smile on your face, “I was convinced he was cheating, you know? I never beat him.”

Your resolve crumbles and sadness washes over you once again, “And I never will.”

It dawns on him too, the finality of what had happened last night. He almost laughs at the thought of Charles, beloved by so many, resting in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere. The universe is a cynical motherfucker.

If anything, he hopes the man felt proud in his last moments, happy for all he’d achieved in his lifetime. Logan wishes he could be even half the person his mentor was. He always berated him to reach out to those around him. To you. That joy was but a breath away from his grasp, all he needed to do is let you in. He must’ve sensed how well the two of you would get along, how you needed each other’s presence as a pillar of support.

“Why did you keep coming back?”

The question renders him a little speechless. Memories flash across his mind - Rogue, Bobby, Storm, but mostly, you. The two of you had always tiptoed around each other when it came to feelings, at times getting enough courage to finally say something, but never following through.

You stand up, thinking he’s absolutely not in the mood to talk. You don’t blame him either. That’s the thing between you two - there was always some silent understanding of the other.

“You.”

It leaves him so quietly, he’s not sure if you heard him. He’s already looking at you when you turn around, something in your eyes he’s never noticed before. Tell her. If you want to be happy. There’s no reason to hide anymore.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first,” He starts slowly, “You kept… creeping into my life and I… I couldn’t stay away.” A smile, a genuine smile, appears on his face, one that hadn’t graced him in a long while.

“I’ve been around for a long time - more than I should’ve.” He continues, his eyes never leaving yours, “I always… felt like I didn’t deserve to survive. It shouldn’t be me, standing here instead of someone else. But you, being around you… made me want to try.” A weight forms in his throat, he swallows it down, “Try to live not just for you - but for me too. I can never thank you enough for that. For sticking with me, for trusting me, for letting me… love you.”

You close the distance, gently resting your hand against his cheek. He leans into your touch almost instantly, even that simple gesture is enough for him. But you don't end there.

"Logan... I love you too."

He thinks his heart stops, your admission knocks the wind out of him. The old man was right, everything he'd wanted was right in front of him. He leans into you, tilting your chin upwards and kisses you with a burning passion. All the pain he'd suffered sinks to the back of his mind, nothing but a shadow compared to what he's feeling at the moment. When you pull back, doe-eyed and out of breath, he realises this is it. You're it.

In the distance, he catches a smile form on Laura's face, her eyes still shut as she pretends to sleep.

And we're done! Always going to be a happy ending.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Can I get yandere toby, jeff and ej separately coming home and seeing their s/o hurt? They got hurt bc of someone else or they had an accident it's up to you!

I do think it's a lil amusing to me that the three creeps you chose are the three in my Yan AU that intentionally hurt their Darlings the most :p

CW for direct mentions of previous physical abuse from the boys.

Toby:

You're surprised, really, at how upset he is that you got hurt. The same man who has broken your ankles more times than you can count, who takes intimate pleasure in biting you, forcing you to bleed and scream from the force of his teeth, the man who thrives on bringing you pain because, at the very least, if you're in pain it means you're feeling something because of him, even if it's not love. Despite that, he stands before you, choked up on sobs as you stare at him in confusion, your hand on your head where blood seeps freely. You'd fallen, as it's hard to navigate on damaged ankles, and slammed your head onto the corner of the counter. You luckily didn't suffer a concussion, and were just unable to get to the bathroom to clean up, before Toby stumbled in and started screaming and sobbing, falling to his knees in front of you with his hands constantly wiping his tears. He pulls you into his arms with a gentleness you're not used to, and lifts you, carrying you to the bathroom. He never stops crying, not when he's cleaning the wound, not when he's bandaging you, not when he's locking you back inside the very room he'd just finally permitted you some freedom from. He yells at you it's for your protection, that he can't allow you to get hurt anymore, that he could have lost you. It's hard to take him seriously with the dramatics of his tears and his history of pain, but the sight of you being harmed by something natural, something unintentional, is one of the scariest things he can feel. He'll just have to keep you chained up again, that way he knows you'll be kept completely safe for him, so he can take even better care of you. He cuddles you close to his chest as you lay there, staring off into space, peace, and serenity finding him as you are overwhelmed by the fear that one day, if you fall again, he might get the idea to permanently take away your ability to walk, so it can never happen again.

Jeff:

For once, Jeff doesn't know what to feel. He's always feeling something around you, whether it be from his anger issues, his obsessive "love" for you, or his desire to claim you and make you only his, but as he stands before you, taking deep breaths, staring down at you where you sit before him, new bruises all over one side of your body. Bruises he doesn't recall leaving, as he always remembers the ones he gives you, bruises that are clearly fresh. You can't even look at him, terrified of him either screaming at you and giving you a few more of those bruises, or waiting for him to just simply leave you there and walk away, but he doesn't. He just stands, his twisted mind unsure of what conclusion to come to. He eventually asks you, in a gruffly choked up voice, what the hell happened. Your body is always so weak, so tired in this home, and you'd slipped going down the stairs, your body slamming into it and leaving a trail of bruises from your face to your legs. They were raw and sore, and he could tell that from just looking at them. His eyebrows quirked in pity instead of rage, and you swallowed to yourself, willing to barter if you could take advantage of that, and so you weakly held up your arms with less energy than you actually have, and begged him to hold you, to comfort you. Tugging at his heartstrings, pressing the button in his mind that softened him, could often work in your favor in this hell you live in, and today it worked. He picked you up gently, laying on the couch and holding you close, pressing kisses to your face as he apologized, and promised to take care of you. You didn't know how long this would last until the next bruises that would come from him would end up on your body, so you planned to take advantage of this while it lasted, curling up on top of him and finally getting some sleep. He holds you gently, affectionately nuzzling into you, content in his delusion that you must finally be falling for and trusting in him.

EJ:

The second he enters the house where he keeps you, the first thing he notices is the overwhelming smell of blood, blood he's quite familiar with tasting, and should be the only one causing. He tracks you down easily in the house, finding you huddled in one of the bathrooms as you attempt to clean yourself up. The second you hear him coming, the scent of blood becomes mingled with the smell of fear, fear from you that he's going to be angry, that he's going to be extremely upset with you. Contrary to that belief, he bends down and gently grasps your hand that's still bleeding, where you were attempting fast and shoddy work at bandaging it. Your hand trembles in his grasp and he sighs, only asking you what happened, and he warns that you should tell the truth, and so you do. You were simply trying to put up the dishes, and you'd dropped a glass plate, shattering it and cutting your hand quite badly on it trying to clean up. He sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, and he tells you to be more careful next time and use a broom instead of your hands. He's eerily calm, usually getting more fired up when you hurt yourself, but as he disinfects and bandages your cuts (in the same methodical way he does after causing bites and cuts to you himself) he's completely quiet. He just doesn't want you to know his calmness is because he's so panicked on the inside, scared that you had been so injured he might have lost you. One might find that sentiment romantic, but it's not as romantic when someone is just scared they've lost their dinner. His dinner and his eternal prisoner to what he claims is his "affection" and "love", the twisted, painful affection he forces on you by biting into your flesh, by devouring your body and soul with every day you were made to spend trapped in here with him. You barely noticed when he lifted you into his arms, carrying you to bed and tucking you in, your mind wondering just what it was that made you deserve this eternal hell.

[lxkeee]

UNEXPECTED

—ONESHOT

PAIRING: LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X FEM! SINNER! READER

GENRE: not angst:)

WARNINGS: no angst fr

NOTES: When I hit a writing slump in one of my series, I try to write one shots to inspire myself:3

We fall in love with three different people in our lifetime.

First love, this love often happens at a young age. You eventually grow apart or call it quits over silly things. When you get older you may look back and think it wasn't love. But the truth is, it was. It was love for what you knew love to be.

Lucifer fell in love with his best friend, Raphael. She was the only one who believed in his silly dreams when he was still in heaven, that's one of the reasons he fell for the seraphim. He didn't tell her, he didn't get the chance to as unfortunately, Raphael told him about her crush on Azrael.

This made him put a distance between them, despite a breaking heart, he played as her wingman and set her and Azrael up.

Lucifer was proud of himself for doing that, he got to see his best friend to be so happy and in love. He can see how good Azrael is treating her and he knows that she'll be in safe hands.

Second love, the hard one. You get hurt in this one. This love teaches us lessons and makes us stronger. This love includes great pain, lies, betrayal, abuse, drama and damage.

But this is the one where we grow. We realize what we love about love and what we don't love about love.

Now we know the difference between good and bad humans. Now we become closed, careful, cautious and considerate.

We know exactly what we want and don't want.

After Azrael and Raphael got married, it wasn't exactly difficult for Lucifer to move on. He saw how happy she is and he decided that he shouldn't dwell on heartbreaking things. He continues to do his wonderful creations for the world. Raphael remained supportive of him, continuing to believe in his dreams despite the elders not believing in him.

Then came Adam and Lilith, he was mesmerized when he saw Lilith when he visited the Garden of Eden.

He fell in love with her and so did she to him, he listened to her how Adam wasn't treating her right. He couldn't believe a woman like her is treated like that.

He talked about her to Raphael and even though the seraphim was happy for him, she warned him not to do anything stupid. He promised that he wouldn't.

The more time he spent with Lilith, they slowly got to know each other.

He and Lilith shared the same beliefs, causing them to give the fruit of forbidden knowledge to Adam's new bride, Eve who gladly accepted.

With that, evil finally found its way to earth. Lucifer and Lilith were both banished into hell for what they had done.

Even though hell was dark, empty, and incredibly hot. He and Lilith managed to make it work. They were madly and deeply in love. Their love bore fruit and that is their beloved daughter, Charlotte Morningstar.

An eternity in hell with his family doesn't seem so bad.

Not all happy things last, slowly his and Lilith's beliefs started to clash once mortal souls slowly came down to hell. Lucifer witnessed the cruelty of mankind, how his actions gave these souls freedom to do incredibly horrifying things.

“This is how they used their free will...?” he asked himself.

He hated it, he lost so much because of the risk he did to give humanity freedom.

Lilith on the other hand, thrived off the evil.

Their differences caused them to split.

He fell into depression, how couldn't he? The woman he loved for so many eons left him? Not only that, his relationship with his daughter is deteriorating. He doesn't even remember when was the last time he held her.

For so many years, he believed that he was unlovable and he was destined to be alone. Why wouldn't he think that when the love of his life, the mother of his daughter left him?

Third love, this one comes blindly. No warning. It creeps on you silently.

You don't go looking for this love.. It comes to you.

You can put up ANY wall you want, it will be broken down. You'll find yourself caring about that person without trying. They look nothing like your usual crush types, but you get lost in their eyes daily. You see beauty in their imperfections. You hide nothing from them. You want marriage and family with them. You thank the universe for them. You truly love them.

It took a while but Lucifer managed to reconnect with his daughter, he promised to be there for her.

He helped her how to get to heaven, he helped her when the extermination happened.

He was proud of himself, promising to help the hotel as he can finally see that his daughter's dreams weren't hopeless. He was filled with hope once more, he wanted to help humanity once more.

It was sudden, no warning. He wasn't even looking for love.

Lucifer found himself staring at the third sinner who joined the hotel, [Y/n]. She joined and he was able to befriend and get to know the sinner.

He showed off his rubber duck collections to her, he thought she would find his hobby silly but turns out she loved it and found it adorable.

It was unexpected.

He suddenly found himself wide awake in his bed at the dead of the night, staring at the ceiling as countless thoughts of [Y/n] filled his mind.

“Uh oh.” he muttered, a realization that he fell for the sinner so suddenly and he fell hard.

He can only think of her bright and sparkly [e/c] eyes, her soft hair, soft skin, her beautiful face, and everything of her.

He groans, “Luciferrrr... you just had to fall for someone so suddenly and that is your friend too.” he groans to himself, mad at himself for falling for someone he thought he could call a friend.

He doesn't want to be friends with her, he wants to be more. He wants to marry her, have a family with her, worship her like the sinner he is.

After coming to the realization, he decided not to confess immediately. Wanting to see how deep his affections for her goes.

And it was deep, it was rock bottom. He was whipped.

He doesn't mind losing himself in the process when he loves her.

He pretended, he hid his feelings. Afraid of losing her.

It took so long, hiding it became unbearable.

He spilled the three words to her, “I like you.” he says so suddenly, he was mesmerized by her that the words came out so suddenly. Catching both him and her off guard.

His eyes widened, slapping a hand over his mouth.

[Y/n] just looked at him with wide eyes, cheeks tinted pink from fluster.

“I-I'm sorry, pretend I didn't say that...” he says, slightly stammering his words. His heart was beating erratically, his hands felt warm against his gloves. His cheeks are warm, warmer than usual. The spots on his cheek have reddened more than usual, almost glowing red.

He covered his face with his hand, embarrassed.

He was expecting that she would be gone once he removed his hands away from his face.

He felt his hand being held by soft ones, removing them from his face.

“Lucifer, look at me.” she says softly to him, he looked at her shyly and with embarrassment. His red eyes finally met [e/c] ones. He admired how beautiful she looked.

Her eyes were looking at him with so much adoration, cheeks flushed, and she was shyly smiling at him.

“Did you mean what you said?” she asked softly, hope evident in her voice.

He gulped nervously but decided to nod at her, a slow shy nod.

He could see how her eyes sparkled, her smile got bigger.

“I'm glad... I like you too, Lucifer.” she admitted softly to him, her voice devoid of any lies and only filled with honesty.

His eyes widened, his cheeks getting warmer.

“Why...? What's something about me to love?” he asked her sadly, avoiding her eyes. He is happy she felt the same but he genuinely can't see himself deserving of love.

“There's nothing about you that I couldn't love, I love everything about you... Lucifer.” she admitted softly, holding his hand with hers.

His breath got caught in his throat, his heart beating erratically against his ribcage.

“I am hard to love.” he says softly, ashamed. He squeezed her hand gently.

“Who said that?” she asked softly.

“Me.”

Her eyes softened, her other hand caressed his cheek adoringly, “Well, you're wrong. I can love you just as easily as breathing.”

Speechless, embarrassed, and flustered. He's not used to such affectionate words said to him.

“Huh...?”

“I meant it.” she says softly, leaning closer to him, “Can I kiss you...?” she asked and he forgot to breathe.

“Y-yes, please...”

Soft lips pressed against his, his eyes closed instinctively as his hand found its way to her waist, pulling her closer to him.

They'll be fine. He'll be fine. He has her now.

GENERAL TAGLIST:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @kooidoom @yukichan67 @apple-pop @akiralovespenguins @storydays @amphiroxx @lil-writer-523 @punching-pentagrams @moonlovers34 @akiqvq @the-attention-whore @homie-xidal @nicora04 @knave-hearts @emekeneme @chirp23 @wendds @crazed-flower @your-next-daydream @rocketxgirl @tobe-a-smiley @purplerose291 @ritzes28

[writteninlunarlight-years]

The moment they realized they were in love (First Realization)

Adam

When Adam first met you, he was attacking the hotel full force and on his deathbed. However, he noted how well you fought and how forceful you were in combat.

This admiration only followed when he awoke in hell, and Charlie took him to the hotel to attempt redemption. Even though you were initially cold to him, he couldn't help but appreciate you.

The Vees became the hotel's primary foe once Adam had become a sinner. Battle after battle occurred on the front lawn. You were so protective and forward-thinking that no one had a chance to hurt him.

He started seeking you out not for any reason other than wanting to understand your motives better and why you acted the way you did. However, this was a horrible lie he told to save face.

During a recent battle, you got struck and hurt pretty severely with an angelic weapon Val shot off. All the pieces aligned with Adam as he watched you fall. He couldn't imagine life without you.

Adam fought the hardest he ever had and was the biggest factor in your victory against the Vees. He did not care for the praise or boasting the others gave; all he cared about was nursing you back to health.

Alastor

You had been a good worker at Mimzy's bar, always taking the flapper girl role very seriously, even though you died long after that.

Alastor met you a handful of times, always appreciating how well you fit the outfits and danced with the other girls and band. Jazz was always his all-time favorite, but the club played great swing tunes.

It was the day that you began wearing a specific red number gifted to you by your boss, and Alastor made his monthly visits weekly and eventually daily.

He enjoyed watching everyone cowered away from you when he sat center floor to witness your best performances. He was always right there smiling and cheering you on.

He never realized how these growing affections turned into love till he saw that stupid loan shark put his hands on you. As soon as he did, he was a dead man, and Alastor stood before everyone, threatening them.

You were thankful, and the simple touch of your arm so you didn't break his boundaries sent his heart soaring higher. He realized he was a dead man walking when it came to you in his life.

Husk

Being a slave to your soul bind was hard work for some and easy for others. You were one of the lucky few who got an easy life working under Rosie.

Husk admired how you always had a genuine smile and a go-getting problem-solving attitude. Even when it came to his sour pussy cat attitude.

Due to Rosie's favoritism over you, it was quick work for you to earn favoritism with Alastor, letting the grumpy bar cat have some more much-needed freedoms.

He wouldn't lie; having you around was his immediate enjoyment of your presence. However, things changed as you talked to him more and listened to him as well.

He realized how fucked he was when you sat there with a soft smile on your face letting him talk about anything and everything. When Al came downstairs and went to order him around, you sat there firm in your place, shooing the deer off.

He would do anything to thank you for the little bits of freedom you keep granting him and the kind warmth you emanate from that smile he adores.

Lucifer

When you stumbled upon the Hazbin Hotel, everyone was amazed how someone so cheerful and outgoing like Charlie could be a sinner and an alive one at that.

However, you were quickly acclimated and right by Charlie's side, helping Vaggie get her girlfriend's dreams up and running—something Lucifer noticed right away.

You never saw anything as too outlandish or even weird; you were just right there helping in any way you could, which is something he began to love about you.

You also extended this sunshine positivity to him, which only elated him more. No amount of darkness or fear was safe from you and your warm positivity.

He knew he fell the moment he eagerly expected your appearance in his daughter's study. No, he couldn't wait to see you enter his, which would only be five minutes later; he had to see you now.

Of course, as soon as you entered and a bright smile crossed your face, he knew he was safe and could conjure anything up, and you would be right there by him, making it all work out.

Vox

He first encountered you when you were looking for a job after you fell to hell. Your looks screamed sex work; however, your personality fit more of an office role.

He didn't know why he took pity on you, so instead of letting Val have you, he stepped in and gave you a job as a secretary in VoxTech.

You were a diligent and hard worker who ensured he never missed a meeting or production interview. He was honestly grateful for how meticulous and organized you were.

You even helped the other Vees, which took much off his plate. He was so thankful you learned how to calm Val and assist Vel.

He realized the fatal error in his plans, though, when he saw Val trying to make a pass at you. He was livid and quickly explained to Val that you were his and his alone.

Though he refused to admit to you or anyone else why he was so hostile about the interaction, he knew deep down that it was because you were growing on him. You were designed to be so helpful to him, no one else.

Prompt assistance: @literallurker

[popamolly]

‘ INTERNAL REDEMPTION ’ LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

summary. In the fiery depths, she captures the attention of Lucifer, who senses a unique purity in her soul. With his help, (Y/N) finds herself on the path to redemption and self-discovery with dangerous trouble along the way.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

warnings. lucifer morningstar x stripper!fem!reader, she/her pronouns, valentino exists, eventual smut, mention of death, biblical references, sex work, sexual themes, trauma, abuse, murder

author’s note. inspired by @punching-pentagrams and their amazing ongoing story “Love In as Hopeless Place”, it encouraged me to write my own fic about Lucifer. go check out their story, it is so good and deserves more love!

In the dimly lit, pulsating world of Club Elysium, where the air was thick with anticipation and desire, a mysterious aura surrounded a captivating figure on the stage. Under the flickering neon lights, you moved with a mesmerizing grace that defied the earthly realm. Dressed in glistening attire that caught the reflections of the vibrant hues around her, you became an ethereal presence, drawing the attention of every gaze in the room.

Your movements were a dance of contradictions – an alluring blend of sensuality and innocence. You twirled and swayed to the rhythm of the music, casting a spell upon the enchanted audience.

Unbeknownst to the patrons of Club Elysium, you were more than just an exotic dancer seeking to enthrall with her physical prowess. Your celestial grace, forgotten in the afterlife coil she now inhabited, manifested in the subtle elegance of her performance. As you moved, you felt a distant echo of a certain purpose, an inexplicable connection to something beyond the neon-lit stage.

In the hazy ambiance, Valentino, the enigmatic owner of Club Elysium, watched from the shadows, his eyes reflecting one of red burning lust, but it was more than just lust for you— no, it was something more— it was a thirst for power that had him grinning from ear to ear. Valentino knew that in this corner of Hell he owned everything, even you.

As the music reached its crescendo, your dance reached its zenith. The room held its breath, suspended in a moment where hell and celestial intertwined. You were always the ballerina in the jelwery box, the beautiful antique that Valentino had in his grasp to show off and praise. Though he may own you outside the building you made sure to show him through your dancing, that you were the one that owned the stage. He hated when you went off script or changed the choreography but you made sure to do it on purpose and on nights you knew he was watching you.

That was your little dose of rebellion, a little taste of freedom you could only wish to have. You were content with your situation though, it could’ve been worse. At least with Valentino you were paid, clothed, and feed with an overall decent place to live. Being one of his toys had its perks— you couldn’t complain. Especially when there were those who had it so much worse than you.

“You jus’ love angerin’ him, don’t you doll?” Your coworker, Angel Dust, asked as you entered the dressing room that you and the other dancers shared. The smell of makeup and cheap perfume filled your senses, calming you with the sense of familiarity, “Cause last I checked, that wasn’t what we rehearsed.”

“Well,” You chuckled as you sat on the couch, its fabric ripped and white stuffing nearly popping out the sides, “I just thought that my choreo was better, and by the sound of that crowd and the money on stage, it was.”

“Heh,” Angel couldn’t help but envy your confidence when it came to Valentino, who owned you both in more ways than one and yet you always found a way to yank on the chains without consequence. A part of Angel loathed you for it.

You could sense the mood shift in Angel, not that you cared but you weren’t exactly heartless either. With a sigh, you get up from the couch, ignoring your aching feet as you join Angel’s side, looking into the vanity mirror so you could touch up your makeup, “Trust me, if my act wasn’t purity and innocence it would be a different story. Lucky for me, bruises and marks on my body wouldn’t sell too well.”

“Yeah, count it on luck shortcake.” With that Angel left, pushing another girl out the way angrily while snatching the drink out her hand. You could only sigh, not intending on upsetting him more but as always, your intentions don’t matter when your words spoke otherwise. It had been so long since you had a decent human connection, you were just a bit rusty.

“My sweets,” The sudden sound of Valentino’s voice had the room go silent, the air becoming so thick you were sure you’d might suffocate in it, “Can I have the room please?”

With hushed scared whispers and nervous glances, you and the other girls make your way to the door. You had hoped you could sneak past him under the cover of the other women who all but rushed passed Valentino but his slender hand caught your forearm quick, gripping it with such force that you were slightly shocked by the pain he caused— it wasn’t like him to be rough with you, “Not you, darling. We have to have a chat, don’t we mio caro?”

You turn to look at him with a frown, “About what? My performance?”

“Oh I would love to talk about that little stunt you pulled but I need you for something a bit more important,” Valentino yanks you further into the room, locking the door behind him with his other hand before slinging you against the vanity, bottles of perfume falling over and onto the ground as the desk shakes violently. Your employer towers over you with ease making you shudder beneath his fiery gaze, “I need something done and I need it done right, I trust that you can accomplish this task, yes?”

What shit was he getting you into now? You were done with porn, you had paid a hefty price to alter your contract with him and you weren’t going to slip back into the void now, not when you were so far ahead, “I won’t be one of your pornstars, Val. We had a deal.”

Valentino laughs, his pointy fingernail dragging along your cheek while he licks his lips, “This isn’t about that principessa, this is a more delicate matter. Think you’re up for it?”

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?” You yank your head away from his hands, lowering your gaze into a slight glare.

“This is why I always liked you, dove. You learn quick.”

“If you were going to tell me to send in a whore Val, I wouldv’e just asked you to send Angel Dust!” Vox glitched with anger, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he turned around in his chair, his claw like hands gripping onto the table with such force that it left a mark, “What makes this slut is any different from him?!”

It was hard to bite back your tongue but you did, unwillingly submitting to your role as you stood before the V’s with your eyes to the ground, not daring to even look as confident at you usually were. Not because you were scared of them, no, you were scared of embarrassing Valentino. Your boss might have forgiven you for your countless stunts but when it came to matters of business with the V’s, you knew your place.

“Angel dust thinks he is on this path to redemption, let him stay in his delusion but until I can break him fully he will never be loyal to me. Not as loyal as (Y/N) here…” Valentino wraps his hand around your neck, forcing your head up to look at Vox— who for a split second was taken back by your beauty, “I have broken (Y/N) time and time again, she would do anything for me, isn’t that right (Y/N)?”

You closed your eyes, “Yes, Valentino.”

“Good.” Valentino pushes you toward Vox, making you stumble into him, forcing him to catch you in his arms, “Quite the vixen, she would surely catch the eyes of any overlord.”

“Even the King of Hell himself?” Vox tips your chin up with his index finger, looking into your eyes with a devilishly grin that makes you shiver.

“Asmodeus throws the biggest parties in the Pride Ring that is filled with all kinds of debauchery, especially for his birthday.” Valentino explains, leaning back in his chair as he crosses his right leg over the other, exhaling out a long drag of pink smoke, “Every one of importance will be there since it isn’t just a party but a show of status.”

“And..what? Your pretty toy is just supposed to waltz in there and get the attention of any overlord that wants to fuck her?” Velvette finally tears her gaze away from her phone, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Well it is an important party of one of Lucifer’s friends—”

“Which means he is bound to be there.” Vox grins, “Get close to the king and we get closer to controlling Hell.”

“And what makes you so sure he’ll entertain such..” Velvette looks at you with a roll of her eyes, “From what I hear Lucifer is loyal to Lilith, no one has seen him with another woman on his arm and it’s been 7 years, hashtag faithful.”

“Ah, well, 7 years is a long time to go without intimacy…I say the man is touch starved and would like some attention.” Valentino says, “Anyone can still get lonely, no matter how faithful.”

“I like the way you think Val,” Vox grips your chin as you grit your teeth. “And I think your little whore here will do just nicely.”

Before you know it was the day of Asmodeus’ birthday party. The V’s gave you the run down of the plan and how you were supposed to get close to the King of Hell himself— who you haven’t even seen in person for as long as you been hell. Which was a few years by now. You were a simple lowlife, you kept to yourself and tried to survive, only to end up within his grasp. Was he as cruel as people say? ‘What sort of question is that? Of course he was! He was the King of fucking Hell, which last time you checked, wasn’t given to just anyone.’

Of all the people, of everyone in Hell, it just has to be you. Because of your cursed deal with Val, you were stuck in a continuous limbo that you couldn’t escape from. Damn you and your loyalty, damn it all if it will end up with you dead ( again ) on the steps of Lucifer’s palace. This wasn’t fair— but then again, when has your situation ever been fair?

“Oh, you look just like a doll.” Valentino ruffled with the fake angel wings that adorned your back, fixing and prodding with whatever to make you more presentable, “Like an angel. Hell, upon just a glance mio caro you might have been able to get away with actually being one.”

And as you glance at your reflection in the mirror you felt a sudden sharp pain in the center of your forehead. Only fragments of memories came flooding your mind like a crashing wave. It was all so blurry but the word Angel held some sort of weight on you but you couldn’t place exactly what.

You held onto your head, trying to steady your breathing and relaxing your nerves as Valentino continues to add the finishing touches to your look.

“Get it together, dove.” Valentino meets your gaze in the reflection, “I hope you won’t disappoint me.”

“No..” The pain in your head quickly fades away as soon as it came, “I can do this.”

“Good, because it is just about your turn to be presented for the auction.”

The auction. Asmodeus does it for sport at every single one of his parties but now that this is his birthday party, this auction is the biggest one yet. It is where he finds Hell’s most beautiful prized possessions, not limiting to actual sinners. The hope was to capture Lucifer’s attention as he would be in the crowd through this angel facade, and pray that he would bet on you. And if that didn’t work, then you would have to move on to plan B. And you didn’t like plan b.

Valentino wished you luck as you stood behind the curtain to the center stage, disappearing into the shadows to leave you on your own and this mission that was screwed from the get go.

“And last but not least, I present to you—! what is the object’s name again?” The announcer whispers, putting his microphone away from his face to get a confirmation from another employee, “Ah! The pure and innocent, (Y/N)!”

The curtain suddenly opens, the spotlight from above blinding you in away that made you shield your eyes from the brightness. You squint, looking upon a sea of red lustful eyes looking over your figure with curiosity. You take a deep breath, as you played the part of a shy girl, slowly bringing your hands to cover yourself even though the white thin laced gown left little to the imagination.

“Hubba hubba! Would you look at that boys?” Asmodeus’ eyes nearly turn into hearts at the sight of you, “And I thought nothing could even look so angelic in Hell!”

“What a beaut’” Mammon agrees.

“Indeed.” Lucifer sat beside his friends, trying to cover his boredom with peaked interest as he looks in your direction. This whole thing was pretty fucked up to him but that was just the way of life down here, there’s no changing that— no changing people when it is just in their nature. Now usually he wouldn’t indulge such things but he was the King of Hell, and he had to play the part to maintain order even though he longed for nothing but to be constructing rubber ducks right now.

“500!” A man in the crowd closer to the stage shouts.

The announcer points in the man’s direction with enthusiasm, “I hear 500! What about 550? Do I hear 550?”

“600!” Another shouts.

“600 to the gentleman in red! But do I hear a 650? 650?”

Asmodeus sits back in his seat, taking another swig of his whiskey. Mammon looks at his friend in disbelief as the unknown sinners below them begin to shout various of numbers for you, “Is she not to the Lustful Overlords taste?”

“Ah, I have so many who do the innocent act. It gets boring after awhile. But if you’re interested…you should buy her.” Asmodeus smirks, shaking the single ice cube in his glass as he signals to the waitress for another.

“She ain’t my type, but—” Mammon gets a sudden idea, “Lucifer should have her. I’m sure he gets off to the Angel shit don’t you your highness?”

Lucifer tips his hat up with his cane, “I am married.”

“To a woman who you haven’t seen in seven years!” Asmodeus rolls his eyes with a loud groan before raising his hand to join the bid, “Lighten up! Good sir, I say 2500!”

“What a doozy! 2500! 2500! Do I hear 3000!?” The announcer nearly jumps from his stool at the amount offered, “Going once! Going twice—!”

“Asmodeus.” Lucifer warned. Not wanting any part in this sinful behavior.

The sound of a gavel rang through the air, finalizing the amount, “And sold to the gentleman in VIP! Your prize will wait outback until you are ready to retrieve it! Enjoy!”

Just like that the plan was working. In just less than five minutes you were sold off like some prize. Your life being in yet another’s hands that wasn’t your own, it was a bit ironic since this life is almost just the same as the one you led on Earth. It was getting harder and harder to distinguish which one was truly Hell.

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost in any other social media.

Be sure to leave a comment & let me know if you want to added to the tag list for this story so you’re updated whenever I drop a new chapter! xo

[doodle-pops]

House of Feanor | Being In An Arranged Marriage With Them

A/N: This was so much I wrote!! For some reason I felt like I made a few of them OOC, but what the hell. It's an AU, so they’ll all be different from the regular Silm verse 😆. I think I broke my wrist whilst breaking a sweat thinking of different scenarios for each of them, but I managed to make it to the finish line! Alas, the final piece! ಥ_ಥ

Warnings: arranged marriage, there are minor angst themes, neglect and loneliness, rejection, comfort and happy endings for most except (Feanor)

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Feanor

He’s not known as Fëanáro without reason. When those words came out of his father’s mouth, as much as he adored his father, he was incensed by the level and nature of the dictation he was subjected to. He felt he was unjustly punished for some unknown transgression by Eru through this method.

Don’t anticipate him to even breathe, let alone glance in your direction when you’re observing him. He would gladly lock eyes with your figure when you’re not paying attention and scrutinize you without remorse. There’s nothing you could say to convince him of your innocence in this arrangement.

He assumes that you had a say in choosing your spouse because he’s Fëanáro, the firstborn and Crown Prince, and everyone desired him. Though politics and royal duties didn’t interest him, he was now aware of the political rationale behind the union. Eventually, he resists continuing his resentment towards his father because his father was compelled into it (in his opinion).

This resembles a Bridgerton moment, akin to King George and Queen Charlotte, where you reside in one house while he lives in another, a significant distance away. His father can complain all he wants about the lack of effort to establish a connection, and Fëanáro would simply ignore and roll his eyes.

Throughout the arranged marriage, you will feel completely alienated and rejected. There was a time when you were excited about being wed to the Crown Prince, even though your freedom was being curtailed. Even at events where you’re expected to appear as a couple, you arrive in separate coaches.

Do not expect him to hold your hand or have your arm around his elbow. Fëanáro takes the commitment seriously, as he feels his own freedom has been taken away. Talking to him is futile, for he will merely pretend to listen while focusing on getting drunk to forget the entire night.

“Why do you despise me so much? You act as if I am the cause of this entire arrangement when it is your father who is responsible. Listen, if you intend to ignore me, it might be best if we end this, as I did not willingly sign up for this mistreatment, especially from you. We can part ways and continue our separate lives, or if we are to continue, at least afford me the same respect you expect.”

You displayed remarkable courage by confronting his tantrums and earning yourself a few withering side–glances filled with anger and disbelief, because “How dare you speak to me so openly, as if we are equals?!” Kudos to you; you’ve just earned yourself another round of silence for the remainder of the night and week, perhaps even into the afterlife.

Fëanáro has no intention of making your marriage work. Eru could punish him, but he’d simply retort and carry on with his life. It’s all about his belief that he’s being coerced into the same situation as his father and his determination to avoid making that mistake.

If this arrangement is to succeed, you’ll need to pray seven times an hour, every day, for the rest of your life for divine intervention. Otherwise, you’ll be left complaining about his behaviour and treatment while he remains unruffled.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Maedhros

He had anticipated this situation due to the constant rivalry between his father and his half–uncle, who incessantly engaged in banter to prove the superiority of their respective families. He often found himself thrust into the forefront of this unnecessary competition. Therefore, he approached the arrangement with a sense of neutrality (lie! he chats his mother’s ear off).

As the firstborn of the heir, he fully comprehends the specific obligations that accompany his title and embraces them wholeheartedly. So, when you join your parents for the first meeting, he gracefully accepts his fate as your husband (although he sheds a few tears in private to his mother).

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, My Lady/Lord Y/N. I am Prince Nelyafinwë Maitimo, your betrothed. I sincerely hope that in the brief time before our wedding, we can learn a lot to make our journey as a married couple smoother. Please, do not hesitate to inform me of any discomforts you may encounter, and I will do my utmost to ensure your well–being. Remember, I am your husband, not your master. Have no fear as we build a life together.”

He is a polite and reserved individual, leaning more towards propriety than humour. He barely possesses a funny bone and seldom indulges in levity, which can be one of the more challenging aspects of the marriage. Nevertheless, he is respectful, stands up for you, is considerate, and fulfils all the duties of a husband.

However, he respects your boundaries when it comes to intimacy, acknowledging that you both are strangers. This means separate sleeping arrangements. All other spaces, such as the kitchen, dining room, reading room, coaches, and carriages, are shared.

As a husband, he typically leaves most decisions up to you, entrusting you with the role of household caretaker and offering his input only when you seek an additional opinion or when he believes a change is necessary.

During the initial stages of your relationship, he hopes that you can build good bonds with the rest of his family, particularly his brothers and parents. He is observant of your reactions and interactions with them and adjusts accordingly if he senses any discomfort.

Despite his efforts to avoid such emotions, he becomes sentimental when he reflects on the life he has created with you, even if it feels somewhat mechanical. The absence of arguments and the harmonious atmosphere in the house bring him joy. There are moments of awkwardness, but you’ve both learned to overcome them (and the first time you saw him laugh was when you attempted to make a joke about it).

As your marriage progresses, you encounter numerous highs and lows, primarily stemming from the political aspects. You have expressed your discontent with being treated as a trophy and being involved in unnecessary competition, despite knowing this from the outset. Dealing with this, particularly from his father, is a challenge that you and Maedhros will face together.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Maglor

Maglor is just as composed as his older brother, but he doesn’t quite align with the idea of both of you being used for political and competitive purposes. He grapples with the notion that Maedhros accepted the idea of an arranged marriage for political gain so readily. Now, he feels a profound sadness that he can’t freely choose someone to capture his heart.

However, Maglor makes sure that your time together never feels forced or obligatory. He disapproves of the constant reminder of the arranged marriage hanging over your heads. He’s dedicated to making your marriage healthy and happy, erasing any memory of your freedom being taken away.

Inheriting his mother’s temperament, Maglor is a pillar of strength for your concerns and worries. If you ever feel like you’re falling short of the arrangement’s expectations, or if you’re fearful, confused, unhappy, or distant, he encourages you to confide in him without hesitation. After all, he’s your husband and should be your confidant.

The perk of living with Maglor is a home constantly filled with music and music sheets. You may grumble about the sheets being everywhere but his music room, but he melts away any tension by serenading you with songs dedicated to you. It’s his way of expressing his genuine affection and appreciation for having you in his life.

“I’d like to dedicate my next song to someone I’ve grown close to in such a short time. They’ve found their way into my heart, even if they’re not entirely aware of it. This song is for them, to show how much I truly care and consider them a dear part of my life. So, without further ado, my next piece is in honour of my wonderful spouse.”

Though he may put you on the spot, he hopes that you’ll be moved by his heartfelt dedication. He isn’t being manipulative; his intentions are sincere, and he genuinely appreciates having you in his life.

Among his brothers, Maglor stands out as the most understanding and the one who despises the mistreatment of the arranged marriage. He firmly shuts down conversations that dwell on the circumstances of how you ended up together and replaces them with whimsical tales of your imaginary first encounters. His theatrical skills come into play as he playfully flirts and teases you, creating a charming and flirtatious atmosphere.

Only when you’re comfortable, does he extend his hand or arm for you to hold, patiently listen to your conversations, or spend time planning extravagant surprises.

Throughout your marriage, Maglor’s primary aim is to provide comfort and eliminate any tension or discomfort. You’ll have a loving husband who will fiercely defend your marriage against anyone who challenges it.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Celegorm

Another individual who defiantly scoffs at the arrangement, dismissing it because no one would dare challenge his freedom. Unfortunately, much to his discontent, the news proved true. As a result, he’s now in a fit of rage, flipping tables, and has disappeared for weeks, remaining unseen and unheard.

Tyelko isn’t present during the initial weeks of the arrangement, as he’s off wandering in the forest, complaining to Orome about the perceived unfairness of the situation. All the while, you are left alone in the new house. One can only imagine the shock he’ll experience upon his return.

His return is facilitated by Orome, who encourages him to give the arrangement a chance and approach it with an open mind. Thanks to Orome, your first meeting with Tyelko is relatively amicable, as he meets you standing in the doorway with a concerned expression on your face.

The look of concern you give him is unsettling for Tyelko, as he is accustomed to expecting anger for behaviour. Not knowing how to respond, he might inadvertently snap, making him come across as a jerk. This leads to you becoming reclusive to avoid triggering his temper, making his plan to scare you off fail.

Tyelko soon realises that you rarely speak or interact with him, leaving him to his own devices with homecooked meals and a comforting, caring tone. You even avoid making eye contact when he addresses you directly, leading him to conclude that you’re afraid or hate him.

“Why do you still treat me this way when I have been unpleasant? I don’t like it or enjoy how you look at me. Why must you still care for me when I have been unbothered? Are you manipulating me into feeling guilty? Because if that is the case, I can leave if it stops this unpleasant play. Just why are you still friendly with me?”

You could see the uneasiness in his posture prompting you to feel a sense of pity for neglecting an unheard-of side of him and the pleading tone makes you realise his sincerity. He genuinely wants to know how to end the discomfort in the house.

Accustomed to his harsh nature as described by others, you had found it difficult to imagine him being soft. It was a start in breaking the ice with your views and how you had perceived him to be during the arrangement. To which he scoffed at how you easily fell for the rumours of his roughness (he knows that he’s rough around the edges, but refuses to admit it).

Tyelko cautiously falls into the routine of becoming a caretaker alongside you since you gave him no reason to be hostile. All he can do is hope for the best. He’s still hesitant to let go of his freedom as it brings him peace of mind.

He eventually finds himself slowly warming up to the idea of you doing your best to understand and not readily judge. This eases the preconceived notions he had about you from the beginning. He thought your demeanour was all a façade to control him.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Caranthir

Two distinct reactions unfold the moment he’s abruptly brought up to speed with his situation: firstly, he swears, and secondly, he makes a swift attempt to escape the room. This was far from the life he had envisioned for himself, or any different from what his family had endured. He had heard of such unfortunate circumstances befalling others but never fathomed that he too would become a victim.

He seems rather brooding during the entire introduction, and he’s taken aback by the familiar expression mirrored on your face. He had assumed that you would be delighted, as many individuals often eagerly vie for the role of a prince’s spouse, particularly from the first house.

He remains quiet and distant, wanting to intensify your the distance between. Both of you share similar attitudes towards marriage and living habits, which results in minimal attempts at interaction, with each of you occupying different ends of the house.

Polite greetings are given from your end while he silently grumbles and mutters incomprehensible phrases. You take it as a sign that he doesn’t wish to communicate. Though at times, you tend to feel the weight of his gaze on you, and if you catch him staring, he quickly averts his gaze, returning to his displeasure state.

It’s a significant challenge for him to partially embrace the role of a suitable husband, given the constant reminder of the unexpected circumstances that brought you together. Expressing himself has always been a struggle when in times of comfort forsaken, leading to Caranthir muttering his words grumpily.

“I’m not quite certain how to put this into words, but I want us to be on the same page during this arrangement. So, I’d like to know your expectations and views of me. This way, if I am to avoid you or limit our interactions to prevent any discomfort or tension, I can meet them.”

It’s not an easy task for him to forge a tiny connection when the circumstances makes it daring. He has to be mindful of his temper while closely observing your reactions to his actions. He critically assesses every aspect and draws conclusions accordingly.

When in his own environment and free from intrusion, he attempts to gradually involve you in his world by silently inviting you through non-verbal gestures. You have to get use to the fact that he doesn’t appreciate talking too much. This can offer insight into his true self, allowing you to connect more deeply.

However, as your relationship with Caranthir continues to develop, there are bound to be ups and downs, especially when dealing with his outbursts triggered by various factors or his siblings’ relentless teasing. One way to show your appreciation for your place beside him is by coming to his defence.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Curufin

I’d like to say he’s Feanor 2.0 in terms of his ideas and approach. However, since it’s Feanor orchestrating the arrangement, Curufin is fully on board and understands his father’s perspective on the benefits. I mean, he’s just as competitive as his father, which is the primary reason behind this arrangement.

Curufin perceives this as a political strategy that he must honour and uphold. From the day you met him, he has had no hesitation in stepping forward and reminding you of the duties you must fulfil as his spouse and the newest member of his household. Your loyalty to him must be unwavering.

Although your initial impression of him left you thinking he was controlling and demanding, all Curufin desires from you, aside from his earlier requests, is your comfort and happiness while living with him. You want to expand your house, sure. You desire a spacious backyard, certainly. You hope for more gifts, without a doubt. If you want to discuss your feelings, he’ll make an effort. If you need space, he’s willing to compromise.

I’m serious about this one; you’ll need to compromise with him if you want your own space—by that, I mean wanting to live separately. If you want separate rooms, he can work with that. Curufin has proper etiquette when it comes to the comfort of those he holds dear.

His top priority is to treat his spouse with the utmost care and respect, ensuring all your needs are met. The only thing he asks is that you don’t take advantage of his vulnerability and exert undue control over him.

“As your husband, it is my duty to ensure that all your needs are met, and in return, I expect the same from you. Whatever you require, please come forward and inform me; there’s no need to conceal your desires. Lay them on the table, and we can work on them together as we were intended to do. I also request that you maintain your dignity and pride when it comes to our new household and family, and everything will go smoothly. Furthermore, I ask that you don’t exploit my kindness and keep our personal life within the confines of our home.”

The entire arrangement may sound controlling and suffocating, but Curufin allows you your freedom. He believes in reciprocity—what he wants for himself, he’s willing to provide in return. He puts in his utmost effort to meet your needs, as long as you show the same enthusiasm.

When he attends an event, his greatest desire is for you to accompany him. He takes pride in showcasing his craftsmanship through the pieces he has created especially for you. He spends hours crafting an array of jewellery to match your preferences.

The surprising aspect of this marriage is his firm stance on conversations concerning your arrangement and your relationship. Everyone is aware of it, but he doesn’t allow others to discuss it, not even his brothers. He sees you as his spouse with the arrangement being a thing of the past.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Amrod

Much like Tyelko, Amrod possesses a rebellious spirit, often disappearing when the harsh reality of his situation becomes too apparent. When he does, it’s typically in search of his mother’s advice and assistance. His primary concern is unravelling the mystery of his father’s role in this arranged marriage. Sadly, his suspicions are confirmed as Nerdanel had no say in the matter; it was entirely Feanor’s competitive nature that drove it.

His mother’s invaluable advice to him was to make the best of the situation and take time to get to know you before making any serious commitments. She became his go–to source of guidance whenever he found himself in a tight spot.

Fast forward to the time when he meets you, he’s fully aware that you aren’t thrilled about the arrangement and even contemplated an escape before the introduction. It hurt to hear that you were reluctant to give him a chance, as he was open to doing so. This prompted his dedication to ensuring that the time you spent with him was worthwhile.

Much like Maglor, he’s determined to fill your days with joy and dispel the clouds of resentment, all while maintaining a respectful distance to avoid overstepping any boundaries. Whenever your responses leave him puzzled, he frequently seeks advice from his mother.

Simultaneously, he avoids his father due to his disgust at being essentially bartered like a commodity for his father’s satisfaction. Any discussion related to his marriage is swiftly shut down, and he walks away. He has no interest in hearing comments or mockery about the arrangement.

However, there’s no need to worry because he receives guidance from his mother. If you wish to converse with him, he encourages you to speak openly and share your thoughts without fear. He wants to hear your perspective on things.

“Please understand that I may not be the most well–known among my siblings, and you may have heard little about me. Nonetheless, please don’t hesitate to express your thoughts. While we may not be romantically involved or incredibly close, I will do my utmost to work towards a harmonious relationship. Please give me the opportunity to build something prosperous between us.”

Amrod is dedicated to establishing a secure friendship between the two of you before any romantic involvement comes into play. He aims to create a space where you can feel comfortable and relaxed without the weight of the arranged marriage hanging over your heads. There’s no rush, and you both have the time to sort out your duties and positions as your friendship grows.

Throughout your journey from friendship to romance, Amrod maintains a gentlemanly demeanour. Though you may encounter some challenges along the way, they will be infrequent. Your relationship won’t be flawless, as it’s impossible to forget that you were both thrust into this arrangement without your consent. However, it’s something you can bond over and find common ground to overcome your fears.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Amras

The quieter of the two siblings, Amras, maintains his silence even when informed of his situation. His irritation is clearly visible on his face, which leaves you anxious about what to anticipate. He reserves his complaints for private conversations with his twin and mother, all due to his father’s insistence on marriage, which he feels is encroaching on his freedom.

Amras’s silence remains constant from the moment you first met him. Your relationship is marred by a sense of being strangers living under the same roof. He refrains from even greeting you, still seething over the situation and pondering how to express his anger.

Despite his understanding that you played no part in arranging this engagement, Amras can’t prevent his anger from simmering. It’s not directed at you but rather at both sets of parents for their low regard for both of you. Amras struggles to find a way to communicate his feelings without intimidating you.

Amras notices your tendency to distance yourself whenever you’re in the same room with him or when you shrink under his silently judgmental gaze. Your eyes rarely meet his, and when they do, you quickly look away. Your actions make him feel as though he has harmed you or been hostile towards you at some point.

“Could it be that you...resent me for the circumstances that have come between us? You hardly speak to me even when I desire it, fearing rejection and silence. I can sense your anger over what your parents have done, and I share that anger. Perhaps we could attempt to build something together, starting as acquaintances and moving from there.”

His voice breaks, and he likely breaks down, allowing you to witness his vulnerability as he cries. He’s confused and doesn’t know what to do. All he wants is your guidance and support to navigate the storm he’s been thrust into. You are the only lifeline in the ocean he can rely on, just as you rely on him.

Amras may appear somewhat awkward, much like Caranthir, as he observes you in your element, awed by your ability to remain resolute. He is eager to assist and hopes that you will show him what is expected of him, as he has few memories of his parents’ dynamics and relationships.

His primary goal is to become the best husband possible for you, but he first wants to establish a basic foundation and compatibility. He follows you like an eager puppy, observing your features and silently appreciating your beauty. He feels fortunate to have ended up with someone good.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Celebrimbor

The moment those words escape his advisor’s lips, he feels a strong urge to toss them out the window. The idea of following his family’s tradition makes Tyelpë shudder. He neither desires marriage nor believes he’s capable of being a great husband, haunted as he is by his old life. He fears that others assume he will repeat his family’s mistakes.

Despite his personal reservations, he acknowledges the political necessity of the situation for the betterment of his kingdom. Consequently, he has no choice but to go with the flow and bear the burden. Upon being introduced to you, he maintains a stiff demeanour, silently repeating to himself, “Don’t mess up, don’t scare them.”

His conduct in this moment is heavily influenced by the obligation he feels toward the prosperity of his people, even though he resents it. Tyelpë can’t help but grind his teeth at the thought, as he believes there must be alternative ways to improve his homeland. However, like everyone else except Feanor, Tyelpe is reserved, observant, and respectful. He listens to you chatter on about the benefits of unifying both kingdoms while silently stewing in his own thoughts.

Polite and approachable, he makes an effort to ensure you don’t feel alienated by his role as your future husband. He respects your boundaries and the need for distance between you, given that you are still strangers.

“Please do not harbour any ill feelings toward me for the choices I’ve made to secure myself. We are still in the process of getting to know each other, and my intentions are far from ostracising you. The concept of an arranged marriage and warming up to a stranger from a distant land is still a challenge for me. I have much to learn, so I ask for your patience.”

During the pre–courtship period before your marriage, Tyelpë is a gentleman and crafts small trinkets as tokens of his growing fondness for you. These may include a hairpin, hair comb, bracelet, earrings, or a simple pendant necklace. He saves the more extravagant designs for when he becomes more accustomed to his role as your partner.

While you need not fear his temper, he kindly requests that you refrain from flaunting your relationship in public, even though everyone is aware of the arrangement. Tyelpë values his privacy and would be disappointed if his personal life became a topic of discussion.

Be prepared to spend nights alone in bed, as he isn’t yet comfortable sharing his personal space. He might suggest having separate chambers until some time has passed and he’s warmed up to the idea of closer proximity. He simply asks for your understanding, as his reclusive tendencies are his source of comfort.

The only potential challenge you may face is his reclusive behaviour persisting for a longer period than expected. He is aware that you may eventually come to terms with being paired with him, but he struggles with it. There are unresolved issues from his past that he needs to address before fully embracing someone new in his life.

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[gnomishcunning]

Hi! Speaking of requests - can I ask for your hcs on Rolan and physical touch? I feel like he's touch-starved but of course would hide it and deny it. Could be sfw or nsfw, however you prefer!

i completely agree that rolan's touch-starved, so this series of headcanons started from that and kinda bloomed into it's whole own thing. i hope you enjoy!

in general-

when you're fighting for your life in hell and then desperately trying to survive the long road from elturel to baldur's gate, some little things fall to the wayside. like processing your emotions, or safe and healthy self-reflection. subsequently, rolan doesn't realize he's touch-starved until he arrives in baldur's gate.

the first inkling he gets is when his apprenticeship to Lorroakan starts. it's the time he's spent away from Cal and Lia in a long while. while at first he enjoys the novelty of privacy and his own room, he's used to laying sandwiched between the two through the night, while Cal snores and Lia tosses and turns.

he sleeps like shit, those first few nights in the tower. the only thing that eventually gets him to sleep is when he starts collapsing into his bed from exhaustion, between working the front counter at Sorcerous Sundries and dealing with Lorroakan's... everything.

it starts to dawn on him with time, the absolute lack of friendly touch in his life. there's no cackling Lia leaning on his shoulder and tugging at his robes, straightening the silver of his apprentice's mantle. there's no fretting Cal, pressing food into his hands or gently nudging his side when he starts getting snippy.

in turn, there's nobody for him to fret over. he can't grab the back of Lia's robes before she charges into danger or trips over her own feet, he can't help Cal with his hair in the morning or ruffle his little brother's hair.

he should be reveling in the freedom, but it's just.

lonely.

he hates the fact he's lonely, he hates the fact he misses a time in his life that was so difficult for him and his family

i can totally see it being a bit of a wake-up call for him, when he realized he'd rather risk his life on the road with his siblings, rather than serve as Lorroakan's apprentice.

the issue doesn't get resolved until Lorroakan's dead, and his sibling move into the tower. thankfully, Rolan isn't put into a position where he needs to verbalize his loneliness. he and his siblings end up kind of clinging to each other - sleeping in the same room, fussing over each other more than necessary - until the netherbrain's defeat, when there isn't an immediate threat to their lives looming on the horizon

casually-

Rolan can be surprisingly touchy. it's an act that's constrained to the ones he loves and very close friends (primarily Cal and Lia, but Tav slips in there too), and he usually disguises it as fussing or his big-brother instincts.

with Lia, he's surprisingly playful. poking, prodding, the occasional horn-grab when she's being particularly annoying. those two can argue like no tomorrow, but it's almost always followed up by a friendly punch to the shoulder.

he's a little gentler with Cal, which stems from the fact both he and Lia view him as the little brother. ruffling his hair, straightening his leather jerkin. very rarely, when he accomplishes a difficult spell, or Cal accomplishes something cool - they'll shamelessly exchange high-fives. Lia almost always calls em both dorks.

with Tav? Tav's a fringe case. they're the only person outside his siblings he can call his friend, which is terribly embarrassing for an Archmage. So Rolan basically vacillates between hot and cold.

he won't go out of his way to find reasons to touch them, he's careful to maintain his and Tav's personal space. they had a tadpole in their head, he doesn't want to accidentally cross any lines about newly-held bodily autonomy. but if the excuse arises from circumstance? well. he'd be remiss to not to comfort his friend.

he fusses, like with Lia and Cal. it's probably a good thing, since Tav has a tendency to throw themselves headfirst into all sorts of danger, and that probably doesn't change post-netherbrain.

he'll clap a hand on their shoulder when they come by Sorcerous Sundries, guide them to sit down and take some time in his office to chat and catch up. gods know when the last time they slowed down - it's his way of insuring they stay out of danger, for at the last half hour they can sit still.

he'll inquire about their business, happily make them a cup of tea, sit down nearby on a sofa or chair. not enough to edge into their personal space, but within easy reaching distance. their cup is never empty, and his fingers will brush theirs when he moves to refill their tea.

if Tav's upset for whatever reason, he won't hesitate to offer a shoulder to cry on, or even a hug. Tav saved his life multiple times over, he'll offer whatever little comforts he can - while silently swearing to hex whoever made them cry. his quiet grumbles make Tav laugh, and he counts that as a win.

if rolan has romantic feelings for tav-

Hahahahaha ohno.

he was hot and cold beforehand? now he's just hot. like, constantly blushing, genuinely delighted to see Tav and seemingly incapable of being chill about it. he's needy, and in terrible denial about it.

his fussiness gets turned up to a 10, and through the right lens, it's almost protective. the friendly hand on Tav's shoulder turns into 'whenever they're in his immediate vicinity'. friendly pats, guiding hands on their back or elbow if they're maneuvering through a crowd

A lot of things are offered under the guise of being a gentleman. if they're somewhere in public with notable people, he'll offer his arm to 'escort' them. he's the Archmage of Ramazith's Tower accompanying the Hero of Baldur's Gate, it's the least he can do!

i like to imagine Rolan thinks he has perfect control over his tail, when in reality, it's the exact opposite. he subconciously emotes all the goddamn time.

this a big problem, when he's interacting with Tav, because they're (a) his friend, and (b) his crush. it tends to curl in the space between them when Tav stands nearby, and if they're sitting down it'll loop around their ankle without him noticing. the spade typically won't stay still, and it's usually Tav's giggling as it flicks over their skin that clues him in to his faux-pas.

he ends up spending a lot of time lying about tiefling body language if Tav's not one.

if they are? Well. He practically invents a new shade of red with how deep he blushes

it really isn't hard to tell rolan has feelings for you, because he's kinda. all over you, seeking physical touch in a way that supersedes what he's expressing with his words. just don't tell him, bc he'll probably spontaneously combust and then never leave the tower, ever again

when the confession finally comes? he's stuttering and red-faced, but he manages the words, and when Tav wraps their arms around his neck, he just. kinda collapses, wrapping his arms around their waist, burying his face in their hair, purring up a storm. he's spent too long dreaming about the way they would feel against him to maintain any pretenses of being above it all.

in a relationship-

finally finally finally, Rolan can be needy without excuse or embarrassment.

learning Tav returned his feelings was genuinely a relief, because he wasn't sure how long he could maintain the facade. like he wasn't already blatantly transparent in the first place buddy

if they're in his vicinity, He's Touching Them

holding their hand, wrapping his tail around their ankle, gently embracing them from behind while they're making dinner. If you sit in separate chairs, he's scooting closer so he can nudge your knee with his own under the table, or caress their thigh.

Tav's not even safe when sleeping. Rolan will migrate across the bed through the night to find them. please be prepared to wake up in a tangle of limbs, with tails and horns in uncomfortable places.

Given how big Rolan is with physical affection, it's no surprise it's one of his biggest love languages as well, in terms of receiving. please, give him affection.

this man melts for the little things. like when Tav strokes his hand with their thumb when holding hands, or carding their fingers through his hair, or scratching at the base of his horns

it's embarrassingly easy to get him to start purring

the thing that gets him to blurt out 'i love you' for the first time, probably no more than a month into the relationship, was when Tav came up behind him and started working his shoulders after a long day hunched over his desk

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Can we please get a yandere alucard part 4 🥹🥹 Prettyyy Pleassee 🥹🥹🙏🙏

& Anonymous D asked: Is there a chance you will continue the yandere Alucard x reader storyline part 4? I’m sorry. I’m just so invested in the story. Your writing is good. - D

A/N: It’s been a while so I had to go back and reread/refresh myself. Here they are Part One, Part Two, and Part Three for you to read if you also need to catch up. Or you can use the tag: ‘yandere alucard’ on my blog to see all of the Yandere! Alucard-themed writings I’ve done. 

And a HUGE THANK YOU to @allthegoodbobdylanlyricsaretaken, my lovely beta-reader for this installment. Not only were they kind enough to offer to read this over for any grammar/writing mistakes, but they were so patient with me! I had writer's block pretty bad in the middle of this, and they were sweet enough to give me encouraging reminders. To them- I am so incredibly grateful! Normally, I finish something and just throw it up, so I want you all to know they are why this piece comes off as much more polished. 

I also wanted to thank @rl800 for commenting on Part 3, about how they hope Y/N’s father eventually gives Alucard some sort of blessing for a relationship with his daughter. I was initially planning on killing him off early, but because I like rl800’s suggestion better, I’ve changed my idea for this part to include Y/N’s father as a contributing character. Oh, and as always...

TW!: This is a fictional work about a fictional character. Manipulation and abuse in real relationships are never okay, and it’s never your fault. If you need help, please click on any of these: [x] [x].

Word Count: 3.2k 

If you’d like ambiance for this part, check out this link: [x]. 

*    *    *    *    *    * 

You were rather disheartened to learn that what your Father had was phthisis. 

The white plague. 

Of course, in the back of your mind, you supposed you had considered such reality a possibility, but you could not bring yourself to admit as much. You suppressed those sobering thoughts with various dissensions. 

If it was the plague, how come it wasn’t sweeping through the entire town? Why hadn’t you yet fallen ill? If it were truly a plague, then perhaps it was a milder strain?  

You had warded off accepting the unspeakable for so long that, even now that it was true, a good degree of your mind still refused to believe it. Surely, Alucard was mistaken in some way, despite his seemingly infinite wisdom. It simply could not be true. Then again, your heartache alone could not change the circumstances. 

You were grateful to be shown to your room quite soon after learning the true nature of your Father’s condition. The devastating revelation was the straw that broke the camel’s back— its brutality kicked you in the teeth— unveiling the weeks of fatigue that had been slowly gnawing at your battered bones. Besides the reprieve for yourself, you were extremely thankful to now have aid in caring for your Father, your cordial hosts’ compassion for your father’s condition released the short leash you had once ensnared yourself with, the one keeping you tethered to his bedside. Now you were free to sleep in your private bedroom, hell, on your private floor.

Seated on silky luxurious sheets, feeling the soft night shift’s fabric against your skin, you were forced to reconcile with the present reality: you were only a guest in this opulent room because your Father was ill, and at this point, there was nothing left you could do for him. In all honesty, it sounded as if there was little Alucard could do either. So much of the situation felt hopeless, despite your newfound companion’s assurances to the contrary. 

Alucard announced, quite casually, that should you need anything else, or if he could be of any more assistance to you, his bed chambers were just a few paces down the hall from your own. 

This sense of freedom was foreign to you, and it felt rather suffocating to be seated upon such a luxurious throw, all by your lonesome. Yes, you knew your Father was sick, and quite possibly contagious, but you had yet to catch anything at this point. What would be the harm if you spend an hour or two with him? For all you knew, you could have become immune to this illness. 

Earlier in the evening, you had asked Alucard if he truly expected you not to visit your Father. He firmly, but sympathetically shot the question down. 

‘It is still too great a risk to take,’ he had told you. ‘Your body needs time to be free from stress if you are to hopefully remain without illness yourself.’ 

The frailty of your muscles and the bags under your eyes made it obvious to you and Alucard that you were teetering on the edge of complete burnout. Should you continue to push through at the rate you were going, you’d no doubt join the ranks of your late family members. 

Nevertheless, the silken sheets and large feather-stuffed mattress atop a tester canopied bed did not stop the faint chill of loneliness from ghosting across your skin. You wondered briefly if your Father’s room looked like yours. Or perhaps, it was designed to be more medicinal than comfortable. Was he up thinking of you, just as you were thinking of him? 

It was late by the time your mind had ceased its seemingly endless racing, well into the early hours of the morning. Laid out flat on the bed, robed in a plain night shift with your hair uncovered, you felt an odd equilibrium of settled and aroused. 

You felt small in the extensive room. For example, there was a tiled area intended for bathing off the left of where you lay, separated from the wooden floor by an exquisitely hand-crafted partition. It was stocked with fresh towels, a matching wash-stand set, and pitchers of clean, warned water. Next to the washstand’s porcelain basin was a variety of bar soaps, each one a more exciting shade and scent than the next, and on the lower shelf was a series of glass bottles— shampoos, cleansing oils, and perfumes. Everything was in perfect order, arranged in such an inviting manner. 

The thought that Alucard took the effort to prepare such a collection just for you was almost disquieting. You had hoped he hadn’t gone to too much trouble securing such lovely items before your arrival, especially since it was rather short notice. Then again, perhaps these were just some things he happened to already own within the castle. The place was huge, after all. 

Honestly, you didn't know what would be more daunting, the thought of Alucard giving up his items for your sake, or the idea that Aluard hurriedly procured these new items with your freshly negotiated stay in mind. Both options felt significantly intimate; either act felt like a kindness you were unworthy of. 

As you formed a loose plan to kindly reject Alucard's lavish gifts and attentions, the man of the hour himself came to knock upon your door. 

*    *    *    *    *    * 

Alucard was beaming. No, he was more than beaming, he was practically flying. Well, not literally. Although, that would be no extraordinary feat for The Alucard, son of Dracula and Lisa Tepes. In his years as sole inhibitor and keeper of both Castlevania and the Belmont Hold, his wisdom and abilities flourished greatly, free from the looming threat of time that burdened the rest of humanity. His prowess had come to be unmatched, his dual heritage leaving little he could not accomplish. Alucard possessed the ability to conquer all things if he so wished; all things, except for one.

At the time this bold young woman had trespassed his home, it had been nearly a hundred or so years since the deaths of his last human companions. And while Alucard was not predisposed to loneliness, he was prone to fits of melancholy. 

Even though the castle was alive, it was quiet. It did not provide comfort or companionship the way a human would. Hell— at times Alucard found himself imagining what a close allyship with another vampire would look like among these vast hallowed halls. He certainly had no shortage of vampires and other supernaturally inclined beings desperately vying for the Great Lord Alucard’s attention. 

It was always futile, Alucard had come to learn. Vampires were paranoid and power-hungry by nature and rarely lived long enough to outgrow their newfound bloodlust. Young, power-hungry vampires who sought to usurp Alucard always came to meet the same swift, almost boringly inevitable demise. They did not present any real challenge to him, not anymore. 

It did pain a part of him. His human side, he supposed. Perhaps, it was the influence of his Mother’s memory, the way a sudden ache for companionship— a friend, a lover, an acquaintance, anything— would seize his heart at times. Mother wouldn’t have wanted him to be alone. She wished for him to be kind to humans, even if they could never understand him. She had always emphasized kindness when encouraging Alucard’s journey of self-discovery. Lisa Tepes knew her son would never become the kind of man her husband was, but she wanted Alucard to understand that it was okay. She did not wish for him to be defined by his relation to Dracula but by his relationship with humanity. 

It wasn’t that Alucard hadn’t tried— he had. For years, he had kept himself surrounded by humans, even after Trevor and Sypha, Greta, and the original descendants of Danesti had passed. But as humanity grew more evolved, and began to long for traditions and independence beyond all that his gothic castle could offer, he found himself alone for years in which there was little else to do other than take to his underground coffin and sleep to pass the time. 

His solitude had been weighing on him especially hard for the past several decades or so. But with his isolated routine so ingrained, Alucard could not see a viable way to invite a human into his life. He was aware that out there, perhaps even beyond what was once known as the independent region of Wallachia, several branches of the Belmont line continued to thrive. Of course, Alucard was certain he would be all but a myth to them at this point, something one of their descendants would speak of as they shared ancient stories around the campfire. 

In truth, he did not wish to seek them out. He did not wish to have to seek anyone out. 

Alucard wished that someone— someone worthy— would come to him. He had only found himself desiring such a circumstance for a little under a month when this strange woman, this (Y/N) made her way past his front door. 

‘Perhaps,’ Alucard mused, as he strode down the hallway between his and (Y/N)'s room, ‘There is a God after all.’ 

Balancing the tea tray in one hand, Alucard lifted his other to knock softly upon (Y/N)’s door. If she was already sleeping, he did not wish to wake her. 

Alucard felt a wave of relief wash over him as her melodious voice answered from the other side of the door. 

“Alucard? Is that you?” 

Amused with her question, Alucard opened the door with a carefree smile. “Yes. I’ve brought you some herbal tea. I assumed you would have difficulty adjusting to sleep in such a new environment.” 

His words were perfect: just the right mix of compassion and concern, yet not overbearing or anxious. If he just kept this up, if she could just see how well her life could be here, with him, how simple things would be, everything would work out beautifully. And speaking of beautiful…

Dressed in a simple white night shift, Alucard was taken aback at how elegant and feminine (Y/N) looked while robed in such a plain garment. Her hair, finally uncovered before him, had been unbraided, and let down to naturally frame her face. Her locks were full and lush, no doubt a sign of good fertility in addition to her overall health. This indication of her reproductive health ignited visions in the back of Alucard’s mind of all the different children they would have running around the castle halls. 

Swallowing down the fantasy for now, Alucard retained his external composure. ‘Remember,’ he chided himself, ‘For humans, it must be their idea for it to work.’ 

(Y/N) took the tray from his hands and set it down on the small table, opposite the washing room. It was centered between two wooden chairs, made to accommodate intimate meals between two people. 

“You needn’t do so much for me, you know? You’ve done plenty already.” 

“It is no trouble. I’ve found myself enjoying having someone more than just myself to feed.” Before his bravado could falter, Alucard took a seat at the table, gesturing for (Y/N) to join him. 

“Is it lonely?” (Y/N) asked. The sincere curiosity in her tone caught Alucard off-guard. “I’ve never lived anywhere on my own. I can’t begin to imagine being all by myself, especially in a place of this size.” 

Aiming to keep the conversation light, Alucard opted for a more humorous response. 

“Nonsense. The ghosts and ghouls in the dungeons keep me plenty occupied.” 

“In that case,” (Y/N) smiled, eagerly reciprocating Alucard’s playful parley. “Remind me to stay far away from the dungeon.” 

“Certainly,” Alucard answered, retrieving a cup of steaming tea. “I would hate for you to become the latest poltergeist haunting these grounds. Just imagine what your Father would say.” 

At the mention of her Father, (Y/N)’s smile faltered. Silently, she seated herself before picking up her cup. Taking a tentative sip, her brow furrowed at the odd taste. 

“It’s mandrake tea,” Alucard explained, continuing to swallow his down nonchalantly. 

“And do you normally drink, uh mandrake tea?” (Y/N) asked, politely feigning another sip. 

“It will keep you healthy. Ward off any infection or cold,” Alucard misled. 

Misled, not lied— mandrake root did have healing properties. Truthfully speaking, its main uses were as an anesthetic and a fertility aid. But until (Y/N) was as committed as he to their collective future, it was best she did not know such things. 

“Oh,” (Y/N) blinked in surprise. “I thought it was just used in witchcraft. And that it was dangerous to harvest.” 

Alucard chuckled, shaking his head. “The myth of the mandrake screaming is nothing more than an old wives’ tale, which the Church has exploited in their favor. They claimed Joan of Arc was carrying a mandrake root when she was seized by the Burgundians in the city of Compiègne.” 

(Y/N) shook her head, not quite understanding. “I’ll admit, I’ve never heard of this ‘Joan of Arc’. Nor the city of Compiegne, it must be quite far from here.” 

Alucard smiled, knowingly. “Very far, yes.” 

“Oh.” (Y/N) nodded, this conversation clearly out of her depth. “Well, those people, ah the Church,” (Y/N) corrected herself, “Why would they say that? What did they have to gain?” 

“They sought to cast a shadow over her reputation, and to besmirch any scholars proclaiming the mandrake’s healing properties.” 

“How—” (Y/N) started, “How do you know all this?” 

Alucard shrugged. “The original keeper of this castle collected centuries of suppositories of knowledge, many of which contained science previously vilified by the church. I’ve been fortunate enough to read nearly all which is stored here.” 

(Y/N) forced herself to swallow down another mouthful. “‘Original keeper’?’” she repeated. “I thought that was you.” 

“No,” Alucard said, somewhat decisively. His sharp tone indicated the matter was not up for discussion. “I was not the one who brought this castle into existence. I merely inherited it.” 

(Y/N) nodded again, her posture more notably hunched than before. She forced herself to take a good long sip before swallowing harshly. 

Thrown by all this newly shared information, (Y/N) licked her lips before pressing them together in a tight line. “I know earlier you said that it would be unwise for me to go see him, in the event I’d catch something…” 

“Yes.” 

“And while I certainly don’t like this being this situation, you are the expert here, as well as our host so I’ll respect it…” 

“But?” 

“I need you to promise me one thing. Just one thing, and I swear I will stop pestering you about visiting him.” 

Alucard nodded, encouragingly. 

“You will tell me when he’s dying.” 

Alucard felt the air in the room grow cold. 

(Y/N) said ‘when’ he was dying, as if she had come to that hopeless conclusion already. Did she truly have so little faith in him, that she couldn’t envision her Father recovering? Had he not been firm enough in assuring her of his medical knowledge? Was he doing too little to comfort her? Too little to distract her? Or… perhaps too much? 

Had Alucard’s honeyed words and kind intentions accomplished the opposite of what he intended? Had his constant reassurance acted as a warning for grief that had yet to come? 

This was not good— not good at all. 

Internally, Alucard’s mind was racing through potential future scenarios. 

If her Father died now, she’d have no reason to stay. She’d pack up and leave, and forevermore associate his name, his memory, Alucard’s very existence with heartache. No. 

No, she had to stay! Which meant her Father had to live! But, how?

Alucard was powerful; still, he had no dominion over Death. 

In every outcome, (Y/N)’s Father remained a crucial aspect of his plan. She revered him, she loved him— and most importantly—  she trusted him explicitly. 

‘Perhaps,’ Alucard’s mind supplied, ‘Therein lies the answer to our question. Instead of working so hard to gain (Y/N)’s approval, I could gain a blessing from her Father. If he were to see us as someone worthy of his daughter’s hand, he would no doubt share that final sentiment with her, before his passing.’ 

It was genius, foolproof really. 

If it was made clear to (Y/N)’s Father, that Alucard was the best option for her, and the one most capable of ensuring her safety and happiness… 

If the last thing her Father ever did was command them to be together, no daughter, especially not one as respectful and obedient as (Y/N) could refuse. 

Alucard needn't be so alarmed after all. 

Nodding solemnly, Alucard’s golden eyes bore unflinchingly into hers. 

“I promise.” 

Once the tea had been finished, Alucard bid (Y/N) goodnight, encouraging her to at least try and get a few hours of sleep before the coming sunrise. 

Quietly, he gathered all the teacups back onto the serving tray and exited the room, softly shutting the door behind him. 

For a moment, Alucard stood still. He waited until he heard the unmistakable ruffle of sheets, and the slowed heartbeat of a human finally at rest. 

Shortly after (Y/N) had agreed to bring her Father here, Alucard considered placing a sponge soaked in somnifera under her pillow. Now, Alucard was glad to have decided against it. Her body was beyond tired enough to fall asleep on its own, and it wouldn’t do him any good to set off any suspicions with unusual scents in the room. 

Besides, his plan had a new direction now— a superior direction. She was not the one he needed to charm, oh no. From where he stood, Alucard could also hear the person he needed to charm, coughing fitfully upstairs. 

And it was time, Alucard decided, to pay him an honest visit. 

*    *    *    *    *    * 

Notes: 

Mandrake, which gave Rachel children in the bible- used to be believed to treat infertility, but also loads of other stuff, but the fertile thing is what Alucard is utilizing it for here. It was also possibly in the wine given to Jesus on the cross. It had a strong sedative effect. The myth that could not harvest the roots without being killed up until 1597 (so this would be news prob to the reader, old news to Alu) It was also thought to be a love charm- medieval church cast it out as a demonic talisman, punished Joan of arc for ‘carrying’ one.

The mix called The Spongia Somnifera is From Arabian scientist Ibn Sina (c. 980 to 1037 CE), or Avicenna. In his authoritative Canon of Medicine, he identified certain plants with pharmacological action, such as mandrake, opium, and henbane. He described the Spongia Somnifera: “Opium, juice of hyoscyamine, unripened berry of the blackberry, hog beans, lettuce seed, juice of hemlock, poppy, mandragora. Put these all together in a vessel and plunge therein a new sea sponge, and put that in the sun during the dog days until all the liquid is consumed. And when there is need, dip it a little in water and apply it to the nostrils of the patient, and he will quickly go to sleep.”

TB was also called phthisis, or “wasting,” by Hippocrates. 

Some other interesting sources: Old-Timey Medicine; TB Throughout History; Mandragora: Anesthesia of the Ancients; Mandrake: The Scream of Death; and Gerad’s Herbal Chapter 65: Mandrake

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A/N 2.0: AGAIN PLEASE GIVE A HUGE SHOUT-OUT TO MY WONDERFUL BETA @allthegoodbobdylanlyricsaretaken , WHO VOLUNTEERED TO HELP ME WITH THIS INSTALLMENT. 

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Tag List: @peterpankat ;

Let me know, if you’d like to be added to the tag list by either commenting on this post, mentioning so in a reblog, or sending me an ask requesting to be added. 

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[mrslankyman]

Change

Mike Schmidt x (Fem) Reader

-> eventual smut

-> Mikes friends Sister

-> mentions of alcohol/drunk mike

->3.5K words

————————————————————————————————————————

Everyday felt the same. It was the same drag. Wake up, work, go to sleep, wake up, work, go to sleep and so on.

Today was different how ever. I was going over to my friend Tyler’s house. Abby decided to stay at her friends this weekend. So I had some down time.

I head up to his house. Knocking on the door. He lived about 10 minutes away. Took me 20 to get here. I like to just drive around. Take my mind off things.

Tyler opens the door and looks down at me. He’s always been taller. Which made me slightly annoyed.

“Come on in. Oh by the way.. my sister moved in. She needs a place to stay so. Sorry if she annoys you.” He chuckled and plopped on his couch. I’ve only ever met Tyler’s sister once. Back a few years ago. She came to his Christmas party.

I shrug not really caring and sit down beside him. He chats with me about random things. We hadn’t hung out in 2 months. We’d call but that was about it.

”Hey, I gotta run to the store.” Tyler says getting up. “Im gonna get us some booze. Gonna have a fun night. Your sisters at a friends yeah?” Tyler asked making sure it was okay to get drunk tonight.

“Yeah she’s staying over.” I answer looking down at my shoes. Even around Tyler I couldn’t seem to pull out a happy tone.

“Sick. Ima go get some then. You need to loosen up a little tonight. Relax. You can watch what ever you want.” He says as he headed out. Of course. He leaves me alone here.

Not that I mind much. I’ve stayed over here a lot before my dad took his life. Back when I had a little more freedom.

Not that I mind taking care of Abby. She gave me a reason to keep going. Though sometimes a little break is nice.

I hear a door down the hallway open. I almost forgot Tyler’s sister was here. She came walking into the living room. Her eyes landed on me and she gave a confused look.

“He went to the store.” I said looking over at her. My eyes linger a little. She must of got all the good looking genes. Tyler got zero.

“Mike right? Tyler’s friend?” She asked walking over. I nod and look at the tv again.

“Yeah.” I don’t look at her. I keep my eyes on the Tv. “Not much of a talker?” She asked curiously.

“Not really..” I say my voice quite. I didn’t wanna show any interest. She was Tyler’s sister. I also felt slightly uncomfortable.

“You and him gonna get drunk?” She stood up and headed to the kitchen.

“Probably. I don’t drink much so.. this will be fun I hope.” My reply wasn’t much of a welcoming one. I didn’t wanna talk. I hated talking to new people.

Last time I talked to her I was more than likely black out drunk on Christmas.

“Right. Well I’m gonna go back to my room. Don’t tear up the house please.” Her request made me look at her. She was already off down the hall.

I assume Tyler makes her clean or she does most the cleaning. Tyler obviously wasn’t the one keeping this house so in order.

——

I was about 8 beers in. They tasted terrible. But my mind was fuzzy. One thing I liked about getting drunk was I didn’t feel so sad. I loosened up. Me and Tyler were cracking jokes. He offered to invite some more friends over. Soon enough there was a party.

How the hell did we get to this? There was about 10 of us now. Not too big of a party but still. This house was too cramped for all of us. They were busy watching some game show on tv.

I stumbled down the hall to the bathroom. I felt like I was gonna throw up. Maybe drinking wasn’t so fun. I finally made it and slung the door open. Falling down and just breathed heavily.

When did walking become so tiering?

I let my head fall back on the rim of the tub. Just sitting there. Trying to subside the feeling. I hated throwing up. Something about it just made me afraid.

I covered my face and then slid my hands down. Letting them pull my skin till they fell off back to my chest. Foot steps came walking to the bathroom. Probably Tyler or one of his friends. They’d make me get up and leave. I didn’t feel like leaving though.

Instead my eyes landed on Y/N. She looked down at me. Partly confused and partly annoyed. “This is my bathroom. If you wanna puke in Tyler’s go upstairs.” She walked over to me and bent down.

“I don’t wanna go upstairs. I wanna stay here.” I looked up at her with pleading eyes. She sighed and sat down beside me instead. Crossing her arms over her chest.

“Fine. But I’m staying in here with you.” She kicked the door closed with her foot. “I don’t like any of Tyler’s friends. They’re all annoying.” She leaned her head back line mine. Smiling a little.

“Yeah. I don’t think they’re so bad.” I shrugged. Honestly that was a lie. I hated them. They were too loud and wanted to watch sports all day. I just wanted to sleep. Or be alone.

“You live in town?” Her question jolted me out of my thoughts. “Yeah, only a few minutes away. Where did you come from?” I turned to her.

“I was going to college back in our home state Arizona but.. money ran short. So I asked Tyler if I could stay with him here. He makes good money. He said yes and I work down at the diner now. Sparkys. It’s nice. My co-worker Ness says I should leave. Go back to college and be the great scientist I should be. I wish it was that simple.” She sighed. Her eyes going down to her feet. That feeling of not being good enough hit home to me.

“Hey, you’ll make it back one day. Stuff takes time. You wanna be a scientist you say? That’s pretty cool. I just work security at the mall.” I tried to cheer her up. Make my life sound terrible. I mean it is. She doesn’t have to know that.

“That’s not so bad. I think a security job suits you. Maybe I will.. or maybe I’ll change careers. Maybe being a server at Sparkys my whole life would be amazing.” Sarcasm laced her voice at the end. I frowned slightly and looked away. The buzzing feeling coming back in my head.

“I get it. Feeling like a dead end. Life is difficult but.. we all make it with what we got.” I closed my eyes. She said something but I honestly didn’t hear. I was already asleep.

——

So rightfully so when you wake up in your own house after blacking out in a friends bathroom you’d be confused. Which I was. I looked around. How the hell did I even get back here? Did I drive? No possible way.

I looked down at my night stand and the answer was there for me. I picked up the small slip of paper.

‘You blacked out, drove you home. Lucky Tyler remembered your address. - Y/N’

A small smile creeped on my face. At least there was some hope for kind people in the world. Aunt Jane could use some lessons.

I grabbed my black hoodie and slid it on. Going for my dark blue jeans.

I didn’t have work tonight. So maybe I’d take Abby out for dinner.

——

I would be lying if I said I picked Sparkys cause it’s my favorite diner. It’s not. I only come here sometimes. Abby loved it though. She loved the milk shakes.

We headed inside. Abby over joyed to get out of the house. Me on the other hand. I had about $10 to tip our waitress. She deserved it.

We headed inside picked out booth and waited. Y/N came walking over. In the usual Sparkys outfit. She smiled at me before seeing Abby.

“Didn’t know you had a kid.” She teased. Abby’s face scrunched up. “Gross. He’s my brother.” She corrected. Doing what kids do best and acting disgusted.

“Yeah she’s my little sister.” I nodded noticing Y/N’s demeanor shift. She seemed relaxed. Maybe she thought I had a wife or girl friend. Which wouldn’t look good if she took me home.

“What can I get for you two tonight?” She asked pulling out her note pad.

——

We ate dinner. Got the check. $14.30 wasn’t so bad. Abby did get a milk shake. I watched Abby as she raced out to the car. I slid down the $10 tip writing on the napkin.

‘Thanks for taking me home. - mike’

I walked up to the cash register. Paying the bill and heading out to take Abby and me home.

——

So to say the least I hadn’t seen Y/N in 2 weeks. No reason to go to Tyler’s and no reason to go to Sparkys. Until Abby begged to go. She wanted a milk shake. I couldn’t say no.

So we headed back. Going inside felt different. Like my hope of seeing Y/N against wasn’t going to happen tonight. And truth be told. It didn’t. Ness sat us. I remember him. I’ve talked to him maybe 4 times. Heard about him through Y/N as well at the ‘party’.

he greeted us cheerfully and sat us down.

“I’ll be back with that Pepsi and your milk shake.” He smiled and walked off to the kitchen.

I was looking around. Searching for Y/N. Why I have no clue. Why did I care if she was working tonight?

“Who you looking for?” Abby asked curiously I quickly looked over at her. “No one just looking around.” My face blushed. Of course she catches me.

“There’s not much to look at. Are you looking for that girl?” She smiled wide. How does she always know?

“No..” I lied feeling my face flush more. “Sure.” Her simple reply told me everything. She definitely knew.

“She’s pretty. Why don’t you tell her you like her?” Such an innocent question. Why don’t I tell her?

“I don’t know Abs .. it’s complicated.” I sighed leaning my head in my hands.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated.��� She urged on. “Just tell her she’s pretty.”

“I.. Abby let’s drop it okay?” I was getting irritated. Not at her. At my self. I always do this. Never say what I want too. I guess if I want to get with someone I have to make moves.

On big problem is she’s Tyler’s sister. I don’t wanna just date his sister without his approval.. which in part isn’t his business but.. we’ve been friends for so long it be wrong to not ask.

“Here’s that milk shake for you little lady.” Ness says smiling setting down Abby’s milk shake.

“Y/N says thanks for the tip. She wasn’t sure when she’d see you again. But she told me about it.” Ness spoke to me. Which made me look at him confused for a moment. “Oh ugh.. tell her it’s no problem.” I answered nervously he gave a little smirk. Like he was definitely going to tell Y/N about this interaction.

——

It’s been 5 weeks. 5 whole weeks. I really should’ve left my number. My mind races every night. Thoughts of her. How can someone fall for another in such short time? With such little interactions?

I feel like knowing she cared enough to take me home made me fall harder. Never having anyone in my high school days also makes this harder.

My mind tracks back to any girl I’ve talked too. Any girl I’ve let get intimate with me that would end it after a week or two. None of them did something this small that made me feel this much.

I close my eyes and all I can see is her. I doubt she thinks of me.

I haven’t went back to Sparkys. I don’t wanna look like a creep. Though I’d die to see her again. Just chat. Even a simple hello would be enough.

I’m cool on the outside how ever. Abby hasn’t mentioned her since that night at Sparkys.

Tyler hasn’t called me. I assume we won’t hang out for a good while again.

The second I thought all hopes were lost and this crush of mine was a waste I met her again.

We were down at the store. Just trying to get some last minute groceries before it closed. I bumped into her.

She said she had to get some food for the house. Tyler never wanted to go grocery shopping. I nodded and listened to her rant. She thanked me for the tip. Thought she told me not to do it again. It was too much money to leave as a tip.

She wasn't wrong. I could really use every penny I got but.. it seemed worth it for her.

We exchanged numbers. Stating how she had few friends in this town. On the outside I was cool about it. Just giving her my home phone number. On the inside though. My stomach was doing flips.

——

So we call. We chat. We hang out at my house. She didn’t want Tyler to think she was stealing his friend.

Funny enough she was.

We sat on the couch. It had been 3 weeks since we started talking. Abby went off to some friends for the weekend. Tabitha was the girls name. They had been friends for a while. I had no problem with her going to a friends. At least she had more than me.

“You think this movie is good?” Y/N asked as I looked at her. Shrugging I lean back in the couch. “Honestly no, but it’s something to watch.” She giggled at my response. “I suppose you’re right.” She leaned back copying my position. She was slightly closer.

Closer than she had been before.

I could feel her arm against mine. The heat from the small amount friction felt like it set me on fire. Not even the sleeves of my black hoodie could cloak the feeling of her arm.

I don’t wanna be a perv. I wish I didn’t pick jeans to wear tonight. They weren’t doing me any favors as I felt my dick harden.

I prayed she didn’t notice. It be to obvious if I took the pillow at the end of the couch and hid it. It also be weird if I didn’t.

My eyes stayed glued to the tv. My face turning red. My stomach was doing flips. All just from her arm touching mine. That was until..

“You okay?” She asked looking in my eyes. I looked back at her nervously. “Yeah.. fine.” I swallowed back my spit nervously. She was leaning closer. Too close. If the bulge in my pants didn’t scream I like you the redness on my face sure would.

Her eyes flicked down. I was so caught. She’d tell Tyler and he’d tell me off for finding his sister attractive. I’d lose a friend. I’d lose my dignity and be even more embarrassed.

I watched her as her eyes flicked back up to mine. A small smirk spread across her face. Not the reaction I was thinking off.

“Want some help?” She asked, when did her voice become so seductive? If it was possible my face got even redder. It felt like the fiery pits of hell had come up to my face.

“W-what..?” Of course I sound like a nervous idiot. “Do you want help?” She titled her head having that look on her face. Her hand rested in my thigh now.

“Would it be weird if I said yes?” Some confidence had come back. I could do this.

“It be weird if you said no.” She giggled and slid her hand up further. Her palm of her hand rubbed up my bulge. Did I get the right size jeans?

I groaned as she rubbed back and forth. It was one thing to have my hand do it but to have hers? It felt 10x better.

I leaned my head back and let her do her thing. Till she crawled up onto my lap. I opened my eyes and looked at her.

She smirked down at me wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

“You’re so hot.” Her words hit my ears and that was it. She pressed her lips to mine and my hands instantly went to her grabbing her hips. She grinned against me, I’d push her down harder. Moans escaped my lips in between kisses. The feeling of her jeans against me was something else.

She finally pulled away. Catching her breath between unbuttoning her jeans. Before I could even blink they were off. Leaving her in her underwear. My eyes shot up to her. Trying to be as respectful as I could.

“I didn’t take you to be such a horny guy. You fooled me with the sweet and quiet act.” She unzipped my jeans. I don’t respond. I was too caught up in the moment. Before I know it she had my pants off and was back to grinding. This time it felt 100x different.

It almost hurt how good it felt. To feel my cock slipping between her folds. Though I slightly wished the fabrics of our under garments weren’t there.

Her tongue slid into my mouth after a small gasp. I didn’t ever wanna let her go. I didn’t ever want my dick to go soft again. I just wanted to make out on this couch for ever.

“I want you Mike.” Her words made my dick twitch, my heart race, and my head spin. “I want you too..” I moaned out as she kissed my neck. Her lips were so intoxicating. Wether on my lips or skin. I wanted them. I wanted them all over me.

I was growing tired of waiting. I wanted her. I wanted her so bad. I wanted her now, tomorrow , and forever.

I slid my hand down. Pulling my dick out of my boxers. She put her forehead against mine and we locked eyes. She nodded slowly. Giving me the green light to go head. I used my other hand and pushed her underwear to the side. Giving me enough room to just slid in.

She moved her head to the crook of my neck and moaned. I gently guided my self inside before I was all the way in.

“You’re so fucking good.” She whispered in my ear. That sent me in a craze. Because I don’t even remember when but we ended up in my room. Clothes completely off. Going on round 2.

——

My thoughts spun around as I saw her laying on my bed. Naked. I looked down at my self.

We did it..

i felt her shift and sit up slowly. I felt her eyes on me so I turned to look. Her face was red and she smiled awkwardly. “Hey..”

“Hey.” I answered looking down. Should I ask? What if she thought last night was a one time thing? Just a quick fuck and go back to being friends.

“Was last night-“ “did you-“

We both stopped and laughed a little. “You go first.” I offer, she nodded and sighed.

“Did you..like it? Or well.. do you like me? I just wanna know if last night was just something for fun or do you genuinely like me?” Her question stung a little.

She thought I was just doing it for fun? Do I come off as that big of an ass hole?

“No. No no.. I didn’t just do it for fun. I genuinely like you.. a lot.” I scooted closer. She smiled a little. Relief washed over her face.

“Thank god… I was worried you were just using me.. as like.. I don’t know ‘My friends hot sister is in town let’s try to fuck her.’ .. I don’t know. It’s stupid.” She looked down. I frowned and leaned closer to her.

“I’d never do that to you. I think you’re a beautiful and smart girl. Someone who doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. I wanna get to know you. Learn about science with you. Hell maybe even.. go further in life with you… if you wanted to that is.” My face flushed as I pooled out my thoughts. Her sweet laugh filled my ears and she kissed me. Not a sexual kiss, just a sweet gentle kiss. Much different from last night.

“I’d love to teach you about science and go further in life with you and just get to know you as well..”

I felt over joyed. That was until we had to tell Tyler. Turns out he already knew. He had a hunch his sister talking about some guy everyday wasn’t just some guy.

Abby approves of her too. They often hang out and color together. I’m sorta jealous I can’t join in on the ‘girl squad’ hang outs but. At least I have my two favorite girls in the whole world with me.

That's all I need.

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Prof. Xiao-Long AU Concept

Note this one is way longer since it did in fact win the polls

Yang Xiao freaking Long was just what her name would suggest XL, bigger then life, the center of attention and life of the party! She was arguably the toughest gal to step through Beacon’s doors. At worst she was tied with her partner Glyn.

They were the strongest duo, Glynda’s ability to bullshit just about everything with her telekinesis and Yang packing enough raw strength to shatter boulders with just a punch. Heck, they were the two time Vytal Festival Winners of Beacon’s Golden era, Even STRQ came second to them.

And that team had her brother Taiyang in it, okay, true it did have the clearance sell, looking knock off of her too, Raven definitely dragged them down… No, she was not pissed at the bandit at all, nope, not a single inch of rage for abandoning her team, leaving her brother broken hearted, she totally didn’t spend months tracking her down and wrecking every member of the Branwen tribe’s shit that she could.

Well regardless she’d gotten over that who issue with her brother’s team, graduated, spent a few years living the dream, journeying around Remnant, helping people, exploring, just outright enjoying freedom. Life had been good. But eventually she got bored of it, bored of it, turns out Yang wasn’t for the lone wanderer shtick, didn’t live up to the hype…

It got lonely, and then her brothers wife died… Summer, Summer disappeared and Tai went into a depression. him remaining teammate Qrow tried, but he could only do so much, and she knew he was avoiding spending a lot of time with them cuz of his semblance the idiot. So she made her decision without hesitation, Yang starting crashing at her brother’s place and helping him with Ruby while beating the depression outta him.

And thankfully Glyn had a job she could work, a Professor at Beacon, she tried to get one at Signal but in her partner’s own words “That School already has to Suffer One Xiao-Long, why would you curse them with two.” And hence begun her domestic life as the stand-in mom for her adorable silver-eyed niece. And Yang realized she was freaking Maternal has all hell! Like Whoa, the amount of times people assumed she was Rube’s mom was scary, and not just cuz it implied she was banging her brother.

And hey, she was a pretty great teacher too, sure she was really more a couch, and every once in a blue mom stand in for Port but hey when she did the students were a heck of a lot more invested in her telling them about her past glory. It had nothing to do with her love of high cut tee’s she swore, she was just that charismatic.

Life was good…

-0-0-0-

LIFE WAS NOT GOOD!!!! She Was Gonna Murder Thos Little Turds! Few Things were as precious to Yang as her hair, and they, her students had abused her trust! She could understand a pulling pranks, heck she still pulled them on her fellow teachers. But The Fuck! CUT SOMEONE HAIR WHEN THEY SLEPT!!!

Beacon was starting up in several weeks! And she was gonna have to show her face now! With her hair like this!

Oh She Wasn’t Fooled For A Fucking Second!!!

This Had Bitch Written All Over It! It had to be those girls who’d been giving her the stink eyed just cuz the boys she taught couldn’t pull their eyes off their bombshell of a teacher! Or Maybe it was one of those douchebag students she put in their place when she caught them claiming they’d bed her.

The fact of the matter was she didn’t technically have concrete evidence of who it was, all she did know was when she went to bed she was fine and when she woke up she felt horrifyingly light. Her beautiful locks of golden magnificent hair scattered across the ground. All she saw after that was red, too bad her partner was there otherwise she could’ve slaughtered the perpetrator, true she would’ve ended up killing a few innocent students, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the greater good, and were they really innocent if they just sat there and let such a tragedy happen!

They were lucky her partner Glynda was there to restrain her with several dozen times gravity being forced down upon her. And now here she was in Vale, already on her fourth group of A-Grade assholes clobbered for trying to pick up a red-eyed and incredibly pissed off Yang.

She stopped before it, a salon, one Ozpin had recommended, and one whose life and current state of function was on the line. Because if even an inch more of her remaining beautiful hair was ruined there would be hell to pay.

On the plus side they all seemed to know who she was, a negative is that that also meant every stylist was hesitant to do said firey dragon’s hair. She couldn’t blame them but if someone didn’t hike up their skirt and do something soon she’d-

“Ma’am, th-this way please, our new hire offered to do you hair.” Her eye twitched, a new hire, what the hell, she was ready to tear into him before a voice cut in.

“Hey can you calm down please, your kinda scaring everyone.” She blinked before looking up and meeting eyes with a fellow blonde. A guy around her student’s age, one who was standing up, facing her down with a stern look.

Your scaring the kids her with their parents, she noticed that in fact he was right as she saw some kids looking at her and backing away. And… She suddenly felt terrible. And when she went lack she heard it, a relieved exhale leave her fellow blonde, looking his way she met the boy’s gaze and felt a bit embarrassed.  Leave it to her to go and get worked up and have a kid around her niece age tell her off.

The boy examined her, or to be more precise her hair and she saw his eyes narrow with recognition.

“Prank gone wrong?” She growled.

“No, I think it went just how those little shits wanted it to.” He blinked before shaking his head.

“Well then guess they could count their lucky stars they didn’t do that to a sister of mine or they wouldn’t live to regret it.” That made her smile.

“Oh trust me, I intend to do just that.” The blonde chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well hopefully not with your hair like that you won’t, kinda hard to instill fear in them while their laughing at the result of their prank. C’mon, let’s fix that.” Turning her made his way to a chair, expecting her to follow as he walked confidently to it. She blinked again, well, the new guy was definitely interesting, few people had it in them to sass her while her hair was so much as touched let alone ruined like this.

“Hey you just gonna stand there and gawk or do you want me to fix your hair.” She couldn’t help it, nobody talked about touching her hair.

“If you mess it up I’ll mess you up blondie.” Instead of the usual whimper or retreat the blonde boy… smiled?

“’Snort’ You sound just like my sis Beryl, relax, I have experience with styling long, blonde fine hair okay, your in good hands.” She rose brow, but slowly started to make her way to him. Noticing a picture of a boy and seven girls stuck up in his station.

“Whoa, is that you with all your cousins or something?” He laughed.

“Sisters actually, and I’ve done each of their hairs more times then I can count.” Okay, she was willing to risk it, at the very least the kid had experience. So she plopped herself down and let him do his magic… Okay so she might’ve had to stop herself once or twice from decking him when he touched her hair.

But hey his small talk took her mind off it, heck she only threatened him once when he pulled out the clippers. The boy seemed totally in his element. They talked about tons while he worked his magic, washing, shampooing and clipping her hair.

Eventually she begun asking how long he’d been doing this, she was surprised when he admitted this was his third and last week at the place. Something about needing extra money and having picked up several jobs before he hopefully got into his dream school. She couldn’t get much more details outta him, the boy was very cagey about it.

Finally thought he moment of truth came out and she saw… A pretty good looking cut, a bit shooter then what she’d come in with but not bad. In fact she was sorta digging it! Huh? Who’d’ve thought she could pull off a short due just as epically as she could a long one.

She grinned the boys way, walked up to him and gave him a full on huge, lifting the blonde up in the air as she did. And suddenly he went from her confident sassy groomer to a flustered, confused mess of a teen as socially awkward as her own niece.

It was honestly kinda endearing, guess he was the sort who just got in the zone when it came to doing their job. Well not like she was gonna complain he was so freaking expressive now it was actually kinda hilarious not to mention a bit adorable. She teased him once or twice, and got the boy to fluster pretty bad before she gave him a big fat tip that hit the triple digits. Hey her hair was a treasure, he earned it in her not so humble opinion.

And so she walked out and made her way back to Beacon, all smiles and snark as usual, much to her fellow staffs relief… Until the next day. Where she realized she couldn’t style her hair the exact way the guy had! Made sense, she never had short hair after all!

She made a mad dash back to that salon… Only to find out he wasn’t working there anymore… WHAT!? She had to all but threaten the boy’s name outta the manager! Yes! She threatened a civilian, but this was important! And she got exactly what she needed, a name.

Jaune Arc.

She rushed to Juniors, needing to use Vale’s best info broker to find out the single most important information in the entire kingdom… Why the hell did he go on about Torchwick and White Fang when she said that. Obviously the info she meant was on the blonde stylist!

He blinked at her, and then asked about the name again… Then went pale. And then called Jaune over, apparently one of the jobs he was working also happened to be here as a bartender. One look at her and he flustered going all red face… Yeah, she did dress up, she was in a club after all, had to look good. Glad to see she still had it, not that it was ever up for debate.

Anyways she had him now, made her demand had him promise to teach her how to do her hair, and until then would have him do it. She’d pay him obviously, she wasn’t a monster, and a guy who could actually style her glorious hair was worth his weight in gold.

He told her she’d have to wait till his break, she was about to drag him off as her waiting simply wasn’t a option, until he offered to give her a free drink, a thanks for the huge tip she gave him yesterday. Well, she was already in Vale so why not… And again he shocked her!

Seriously what had she been drinking up until this point? Cuz it sure as hell wasn’t a Strawberry Sunsrise compared to the one he served her. She was about to ask, but he seemed to pick up on her question and gave the answer of ‘Seven sisters’ which just sorta answered it, guess a few of them liked drinks.

And he was back to being mister focused on his craft, sassy and cool as a cucumber… She just had to mess with him. Wasn’t hard, just a little shake here, a suggestive pun there and a wink or two and the boy went cherry red.

It was the best time she had out in a good minute, and then slowly, things started to relax and she fell into that age old troupe of shooting the breeze her the bartender. Talking about her brother and niece who’d get into Beacon this year and how freaking proud of her she was.

It was great, fun, and she was… tipsy, so maybe when his break came around she chose to drag him to the dance floor for some fun instead of out to do her hair… And once again he surprised her with another skill of his. Jaune Arc, could dance.

He even dared suggest he was better then her… the nerve. She had to prove to him wrong, she just had to. So they spent his whole break dancing, drinking, laughing and just having fun, and one stink eye from her and Junior let her new young buddy take the rest of the night off.

And then everything went dark and she woke up in a bed, naked… Oh no.

Then she realized thank Oum there was no blonde boy right by her, instead her Scroll had a message, saying how he’d taken her to one of junior’s rooms to rest after she’d gotten wasted. And how he swore he left the room when she started to strip…

Yeah, that sounded like her when she got three sheets to the wind, he also sent her a message about how to do her hair. She asked Junior about the blonde but the guy insisted he was just a temporary hire.

-0-0-0-

Well, it was time her baby niece’s first day was upon them! It took everything she had not to charge up grab little ruby up in a huge and completely embarrass her in front of everyone of her potential classmates.

Yang might’ve been wary of Ozpin when he first suggested it but still, she was aiming to enjoy this, to watch her niece, thrive in Beacon, to make a name for herself and have the best experience she cou- And she exploded…

Then some little white haired bitch started hounding her niece! She readied to walk up there and clobber the uppity brat. But before she could the spoiled brat left when some other goth looking chick got in the way. The black themed kid left too, leaving her poor niece all alone looking miserable!

She readied to make way only for the last person she expected to show up.

“Jaune?”

-0-0-0-

She stood with Ozzy and Glyn watching things go down in the emerald forest, watching her niece having the misfortune of teaming up with the bratty Schnee. But there was also someone else who interested her, Jaune Arc, AKA her personal stylist, bartender and clubbing escort to be the next four years of Beacon.

What could she say, the kid was a man of many talents that she very much appreciated. She’d looked his files over, and yep… Guy had fake transcripts, so that’s why he needed all that extra scratch. Still though, considering they had a ex-terrorist in their roster this year she couldn’t view it too negatively, heck Qrow had been a freaking bandit.

Also, the kid really wanted this, I mean guy let Ozzy launch him into the forest… without aura! Yeah that was a shocker, the fact the kid was even willing to fight Grimm with having aura much less knowing what it was spoke volumes to his bravery, stupidity too yes, but mostly bravery. And hey, when the cereal girl herself unlocked it turned out he had a bunch.

Yep this year was shaping up to be a interesting one.

-0-0-0-

Glynda didn’t know what to think of how Yang was acting, given she rarely knew what to do when it came to said brawler, but moreso today the usual, Yang was acting quite perplexing, well more then usual. Focusing on miss Rose she could understand, the woman all but raised the silver-eyed warrior after all. But her interest also seemed to focus on a second individual as well.

Mister Arc, a student she still had doubts about, but who also seemed to gain her partners attention, she sighed for the poor student. She didn’t wish her partner’s teasing on anyone, much less a seemingly easy to fluster first year like him.

Oh well, she supposed sacrifices had to be made for the greater good, a happy or at the very least entertained Xiao-Long mean much less collateral damage for the school and free time for herself. Perhaps she could offer him a bit of favoritism for such a burden, he did have a lot of aura, she supposed she could give him advise on control of it, he’d need it in case her partner ever tried to spare with the poor thing after all.

-0-0-0-

Okay, this was not good, Yang had not expected Jaune to be in Beacon, much less for him to befriend her precious niece and be such good friends with her… What was this kid? He could, do hair, make drinks, dance and could even be a reliable man when the chips were down if him turning back to help against the Deathstalker was any indication.

Seriously, the kid didn’t even have aura for a full hour and yet he turned to face a grimm most huntsman would think twice about facing much less potential first years. And all for some strangers… Yep she didn’t care if his transcripts were real or not, Jaune earned his place in the school with that bit of bravery there.

She nearly laughed when he was declared leader of his team, not cause it was funny, kid was the obvious choose, he was quick the decide, enact and didn’t hesitate. Hell, he had no actual training and yet when the chips were down he lead three people he didn’t even know the name of into battle.

Ozpin would have to be blind not to pick him, at the after party she made her way right to him ready to tease him to high heaven. But instead caught him talking to one of his sisters, well her her wife and… And. AND THE MOST ADORBLE THING SHE’D SEEN SINCE BABY RUBY!!!

Apparently, it was his nephew Adrian! So yeah she sorta cut in and got involved, talked to his sister, baby talked his cute nephew and informed said sister that her little brother was on the fast track to being a kick butt huntsman. What? you didn’t it so many checkmarks with her and not get a few benefits for it. Yang Xiao-Long was the kinda teacher who definitely played favorites, and Jaune Arc was certainly one of them.

-0-0-0-

Yang did not know what to do… Well, that wasn’t true, she knew exactly what she wanted to do, or to be more specific… Who.

How had it come to this!? Seriously, she just didn’t know what to do… Okay, maybe she should back up a sec and explain. So she, Yang Xiao-Long, Huntress extraordinaire, hottest teacher in Beacon (Okay… Maybe Glynda and her were tied) was lowkey crushing on one of her students…

No! It was not Blake! She didn’t get why Port assumed that? Nope, she had found herself thinking of and gioving extra attention to Jaune, yep, Jaune, mister fake it till he made it. HE JUST CHECKED OFF ALL THE THINGS SHE WAS LOOKING FOR IN A GUY!!!

Yeah, she was surprised too, as it turned out, you didn’t need to be a huge giant of muscles like Yatsuhashi or that transfer student Sage. Nope, lean was good too, maybe not Lie Ren lean but a nice in-between. And Jaune Arc hit that sweet spot, heck he was decently built even before Beacon, it was just more like a farmboy than a actual knight. But now, ‘heh’ Yang very much approved his teammate Nora’s insistence on weightlifting.

He was blonde! Which yeah maybe that wasn’t strictly necessary for him to catch her eyes but it didn’t hurt. He got along with her niece, heck he was her first friend in Beacon. And he was brave, something she knew when he turned back to help his team against that Deathstalker during his Initiation.

He proved it again though about a month later when he saved Cardin Winchester against a Ursa Major, now that said a lot about him. While his team ran for their lives Jaune stood his ground and fought to save his bully… the threatened him to not mess with his friends… Yeah, that was when she realized he was on her radar.

More then that he checked off things she didn’t even know she was looking for a guy, he was good with hair (though not his own if that mop of blonde was any indication), dancing drinks, And Oh My God Cooking! The Boy Could Cook! Again Thank Oum For His Sisters and Mom For Forcing Him To Learn Those Glorious Glorious Domestic Skills! But More Then That thank Mama Arc for giving him that ass!

And she was perving on Jaune again… Great. Ugh she needed to settle this already, heck she wasn’t even able to hide it anymore. The Staff totally made fun of her over it even!

But like, she didn’t wanna be all weird, plus the blonde liked the little icy no tit princess, and she was in a mood again… Was she really jealous of a teenager who was built like a ironing board… Yes, yes she was and that more then anything else infuriated her.

Heck he was on a team with Pyrrha-Obvious-Nikos! At least Yang could accept losing to the spartan! Okay… Maybe lose was a bit much. After all if she went for it she would nab that blonde up in a second. So why didn’t she?

Cause, cause she was a teacher… Y-yeah, that was it, totally not because she had cold feet, and never been in a relationship that lasted more then a weekend… Gods Dammit.

And then she stumbled upon it, Jaune and her partner training, Glynda had taken a shine to Jaune, not at first, her partner was pretty peeved about the whole Transcripts thing. But after a few weeks her favorite student (Ruby being the exception) had used his Arc charm on her.

Glyn was a bit softy underneath all that stern strictness of her’s. Wait? Was she… checking him out? Yep, Glyn was focusing pretty hard on her blonde Himbo’s ass… And she was touching him! WAIT WHAT!? Glyn Didn’t Touch People, She didn’t need to with her semblance! Why Would She… OH THAT BITCH!!!

That’s right Glynda had been benefiting from Jaune’s talents as much as she was, actually he was also helping her with paperwork apparently (something about paying her back for the aura control lessons) NO NO NOOO!

She was not losing Jaune To Her Partner and the stick up her ass! Yang never thought of herself as the jealous type but here she was, going into her room and grabbing some of her risqué clothes… Yeah they were pretty old, she at least went up to cup sizes since she last wore this to… Perfect.

Now all she needed was a night to alter them, thank Oum she was used to sewing cause of Ruby. And she was ready, and as she stepped into class, ready to teach unashamed and with a cocky smile on her face she looked to her mark. Jaune Arc much like the other boys in her class was staring just like she wanted him to.

Yep, Yang Xiao-Long might’ve been scared of screwing up, of causing issues for Jaune or more importantly Beacon and the moral implications of a teacher screwing her student, but that all came second, because more then that she refused to lose to anyone. And now that Glynda might be in the competition she wasn’t gonna hold back.

[daisynik7]

Iris

And I don't want the world to see me, ‘cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Mature – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~4.5k (I went way over than I was supposed to, lol)

cw: switching POVs (2nd person reader, 3rd person Eren), canon-universe, VERY canon-divergent, consider this a what-if scenario, major AOT spoilers up to season 4, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), fingering 

Summary: At the Battle of Fort Slava, Eren Jaeger, hell-bent on launching his ultimate attack on Marley, injures himself to pose as a wounded soldier, granting him admittance to the hospital to finalize his plans. You, an Eldian volunteer working at the hospital, start treating this new patient, nervous about his mysterious demeanor. Eventually, you learn that you have much more in common with each other than you think. 

Author’s Note: Thank you @ichinosejager13 for your second request for the y2k karaoke party! I did something totally different this time; I wrote a fic set in the canon universe. I thought it fit well with this song, so I hope you like it! While it’s set in the canon universe, it is very obviously canon divergent, so please remember I took a lot of liberties with this. I am in no way suggesting that any of this is what I wish happened in canon. I just think it was an interesting idea to write. Also, I understand that this will seem very out-of-character for Eren, but let’s just roll with it because it's all in good fun, lol. 

Like, reblogs, and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated! Thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.

Fort Slava, huddled in the trenches. Blade through his leg, bullet in his eye. This is the last vivid memory Eren can recall as he stands in line outside the hospital, waiting to be admitted. Some asshole Marleyan imitates explosion sounds, causing all of those around him to fall to the ground, cowering in fear. They suffer trauma from the battlefield, and even Eren, with a clear conscious now, is affected by it. A kid, another Eldian dawning the same yellow armband as he is, steps towards them, kneeling down to help them up. He even assists Eren, correcting his armband to his left arm instead of the right. Luckily, it goes unnoticed by everyone else, which is exactly what he wants. 

It's all part of his plan; the attack on Marley. It’s been in the works for months now, starting with his infiltration of the army, fighting alongside Marleyans and Eldians alike. He thought he’d have better clarity of the situation, maybe get convinced to call the whole thing off after bonding with other solders through the tragedies of violence and war. Unfortunately, it’s only made him realize how much more he needs to follow through with it. Nothing will ever change in this cruel world unless he’s the one to do it. 

There are days when he gets cold feet. He’s tempted to re-evaluate, find a way back to his home of Paradis, reunite with his friends, devise a better plan and figure it out together. But in all the futures Eren can see, his current plan is the only one that will work. The only one that will grant him the freedom he’s been chasing his entire life.  

The process is slow to get a room in the hospital. Luck remains on Eren’s side when he’s assigned a private room. It’s barren; a single-bed, just long enough to accommodate his stature, withered sheets and rusted iron on the frame. There’s a small nightstand beside it with two drawers to hide his belongings, which is essentially nothing, and atop is a small lamp, illuminating the room in a dreary glow. It’s not luxurious, but it’s enough for the time-being. Because that’s all Eren needs right now: time. 

Eventually, Zeke will find him. They’ve been contacting each other for a while now, and Eren has a firm grasp on what his older brother is trying to convince him to do with the Founder’s power. While he doesn’t agree with his idea to euthanize the entire race of Eldians, Eren needs to entertain it long enough to manipulate Zeke into letting him use his royal blood. 

It's all convoluted and fucked up, he’s aware of that. Somedays, he wishes he could escape this curse without doing anything at all. That one day, he’d be gone from this world, liberated from his Titan power, saved from this burdened life. This isn’t what he imagined while reading all those books he and Armin would marvel at as kids. This isn’t the freedom he was hoping for. 

He rests in his pathetic, yet oddly comforting bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. His leg and eye are still wrapped in bandages, so a nurse should be coming soon to check on him. There’s a faint commotion out in the hallway, but Eren is too lazy and too uninterested to investigate. Soon, it subsides, and the door swings open, revealing a women around his age, wearing a nurses uniform and the yellow Eldian patch on her left arm. He recognizes the attire from battle; the army had a few nurses stationed at the fort for casualties. 

“Mr. Kruger?” she asks. 

It takes him a second to remember the alias he decided to use. He confirms it, nodding his head silently. 

She gives him a warm smile, introducing herself. “I’ll be helping you from now on.”

~~~

You started working at the hospital a few months ago. For Eldians, it’s nearly impossible to be accepted into higher education, so nursing school was never an option. With opportunities so scarce, your best bet was to apply for a volunteer position at the hospital in hopes of using that as a steppingstone for an actual paying job. You don’t expect a promotion any time soon, not even in the near future, but at least you’re spending your time helping others.

While it’s rewarding, it isn’t glamorous or pretty in the slightest bit. Because you lack the proper education, your tasks mostly include bathing, feeding, cleaning up any accidents or messes. Occasionally, if your patient is open to it, you spend time with them chatting, doing activities with them, listening to their stories. This is rare, though. Most that are admitted are Marleyans who refuse to speak to you because of your status. Some are even reluctant to have you help them in the first place. The Eldians, sadly, are usually too traumatized to open up, so you do your best to make them comfortable however you can. 

When you meet your newest patient, Eren Kruger, you don’t expect him to be any different from the rest. You are, however, surprised at how young he is; he can’t be any older than you, judging by his appearance. His records show nothing except for his name and his status as an Eldian, which isn’t unusual, so you don’t think much of it. “Mr. Kruger, I know you must be hungry,” you start. “Lunch will be arriving soon. If you need assistance, I’ll be here to help you.”

He acknowledges you with another curt nod, remaining silent. You can’t help but notice how brilliantly green his eyes are. Have you ever seen irises like his before? You let the inappropriate thought vanish quickly before you ask, “Would you like me to bathe you now or after you eat?”

At this, his brows tighten. “Bathe?” 

“Yes, Mr. Kruger. We can bathe you before or after lunch, it’s up to you – ”

“I don’t want to bathe,” he says, avoiding your gaze. 

You blink at him, unsure how to respond. “Surely you must want to be clean – ”

He interrupts you again, muttering, “How can I, when I’m like this?”

You understand his hesitation now, not needing further explanation. Sometimes, patients with missing limbs have expressed concern submerging themselves in a tub full of water, not wanting to get their bandages wet. Quickly, you clarify, “It would be a sponge bath. We can do that while you’re lying in bed, actually. And your bandages will stay intact.”

This seems to be the answer he’s looking for. His expression relaxes when he says, “After. I want to do it after I eat.”

You smile softly at him, noting it on your checkboard. “Understand. I’ll go check on your meal now. Is there anything else you need from me?”

A beat passes before he replies, “Pen and paper. For letters.”

You write it, reminding yourself to bring it when you return with his meal. “Got it.”

A few minutes later, you return with a tray of food along with a wad of paper and two pens. You set it on his nightstand beside him, waiting for him to move it. When he doesn’t, staying still, staring blankly at the foot of the bed, you clear your throat. “Mr. Kruger?”

“I’m not hungry,” he murmurs. 

“But you haven’t eaten all day. You need nourishment if you’re going to get any better.”

“And who says I want to get better?” He glares at you, startled by the intensity in his gaze. 

You swallow hard, nervous, but still resilient. “You have to eat. You owe it to yourself after what you’ve been through.”

“And how would you know what I’ve been through?” His voice is steady, a hint of venom, barely enough to sting. But you’re determined. You sit at the edge of the bed, careful not to touch him. Reaching for the tray, you set it down on your lap, sighing. “I don’t know. I have no idea what war is like out there. All I know is that it’s not great for us here. At least out there, you’re fighting together as a unit. Marleyan, Eldian, it doesn’t matter. You’re working to defeat our enemy. And who knows? If we ever win the war, maybe life will be better for us here.” You shove the tray towards him, glaring back at him. “So the least you could do is try to see it through and survive, right?”

He studies you carefully, contemplating how to respond. Glancing at the tray in front of him, he smirks, scooping a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. You ease up, tension releasing from your shoulders. 

After a few more bites, he speaks. “Who do you think the enemy is?” 

Just when you thought you were in the clear, he asks you another question. “It was the Mid-East Allies. That’s who you fought at Fort Slava.” 

“But who do you think the real enemy is?” He’s finished with his potatoes, now moving on to his meatloaf. 

“Well, I suppose it’s whoever the government says it is.” You’re unsure what kind of answer he’s searching for.

“And if they say that we’re the enemy, then what?” He points between you, leaving you confused. 

“We…?”

“Eldians. Devils.”

“No, no. The Devils are on the island. We’re…we’re not like them.”

“Are you sure?” He stuffs the rest of the meat into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it all down. “What makes you think you’re any better here than you are there?”

Your face feels hot now, and you start to stammer. “Because…because that’s what we were told. We’re on the right side. They’re on the wrong.” 

His plate is nearly clean now. He slides his fingers on the remnants, licking it off before chugging half a glass of water. “What if I told you there’s a place for people like us? A place where you wouldn’t have to walk around with an armband. A place where you were treated fairly. Would you want to go to a place like that?” 

You feel yourself drawn in by his words. The idea of it sounds impossible. Ever since you were born, you were taught to know your place in this world. That place was here in Marley, destined to be a second-class citizen. You were told that the island across the sea was full of devils like you, but because you’re here, you’re better. You can’t deny that you’ve been curious what life is like out there. All this time, you thought it must be worst, secluded on an island, hated by the rest of the world. 

But is this life any better? Secluded in your own community and still hated by the rest of the world?

You pick the tray up from his lap, muttering, “I’ll go get your sponge bath ready.”

He doesn’t add anything else, watching you silently. You walk towards the door, ready to leave. Before you do, you say, “And to answer your question: I would.”

~~~

It was supposed to be innocent banter, that’s what Eren intended. He figured he could chalk it up to the trauma speaking for him, that she wouldn’t even be remotely interested in what he had to say. He thought she’d be like all the other naïve, brainwashed Eldians, ignorantly believing everything that was told to them. He realizes soon enough that he was wrong to underestimate her.

She comes to him every day, fulfilling her volunteer duties. Their daily routine begins with breakfast, then a morning stroll in his wheelchair out in the courtyard. Sometimes they’ll play chess at one of the tables, sometimes it’s checkers. Lunchtime comes, and then it’s time for a bath, one of Eren’s favorite parts of the day. Her hands are always gentle, gliding along his skin with a damp sponge. They’ll do another stroll outside, this time on his crutches, where he practices how to walk. Dinner arrives when it’s already dark out, and occasionally, he’ll ask her to read the latest news from the paper. 

While all this happens, they talk. They talk a lot. 

As expected, she figures out that Eren is from Paradis, though he bends the truth about his true intentions for being here. She doesn’t know about his Titan powers, thinking he’s a refugee seeking sanctuary here. Surprisingly, she isn’t offended about it; in fact, she’s curious. They spend most of their time together sharing stories of their childhood. Eren describes life in Paradis, she describes life in Marley. While there are stark differences between their upbringings, there are also blatant similarities. And together, they come to the gut-wrenching conclusion: Eldians are terrorized wherever they are, whether it’s here, or across the sea. 

Eren has only sent one letter in the past two weeks, and that was to his friends back home, informing them that he is in Marley, safe and sound. He doesn’t disclose his plan to them yet. In all honestly, he’s not sure what the plan is anymore. Zeke still hasn’t found him, nor has Eren gone out of his way to be found. What Eren does know is that he enjoys spending time with the woman who helps him. So much that he’s losing grip on what he’s supposed to be doing here. He has to do something soon.

It comes to a head one night, three weeks after he was admitted to the hospital. Eren requests for another sponge bath after dinner; it was a hot day and he worked up a sweat during their afternoon walk. She helps him strip his shirt off, starting with the wet, warm sponge at his chest, massaging small circles onto his sticky skin. He watches her carefully, noticing her eyes lingering on his body more so than usual. 

He speaks softly into her ear, leaning in close. “I have something to tell you.”

She continues above his waist, hands gently scrubbing, not bothering to look at him when she responds. “What is it, Eren?”

He’s thought about this all day. The plan. “Would you like to visit Paradis?”

This time, she does look at him, confused. “What?”

Louder now, and more confident, he says, “Come to Paradis with me. See what it’s like there.”

She scoffs. “I can’t just leave.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is my home.”

“They treat you like nothing here,” he argues. “At Paradis, you’re somebody. We can be safe at Paradis.”

She stops, tossing the sponge into the bucket of water beside her, frustrated. “Safe? After everything you’ve told me? You said it yourself; you’ve been terrorized by Titans since you were a kid. Every nation in the world wants Paradis gone. How can it be safe?”

He swallows thickly, gripping her hand delicately in his. “I can’t explain everything right now, but I have a plan. We have a plan.” He recalls one of the last memories he has of Armin, his brilliant friend, suggesting a small-scale Rumbling, enough to scare the rest of the world from attacking Paradis for centuries. He dismissed it quickly then, but now, he considers it. Could this be their best option? Instead of the billions of casualties Eren had originally devised? “You just have to trust me for now. Once we’re there, I can explain everything.”

She stares at him, clearly in shock from his suggestion. He doesn’t blame her. Eren is asking her to give up everything she knows. 

“Eren,” she starts, squeezing his hand tighter. “I don’t know if I can do that.” 

He smiles at her, brushing his thumb across her knuckles delicately. “I understand. I know it’s a big ask, and I shouldn’t have expected you to say yes. I just…I just think I know what I can do for Paradis to make it safe for people like us. Somewhere we can be ourselves, where people will know us for who we are, and not for what they see on our armbands.”

“It sounds like paradise,” she says quietly.

“It does. And I think I could make it that way. I know I can.”

She sighs, retrieving the sponge again. “I want to believe you, Eren. But I don’t think I can throw away my life for something I’m unsure of.” She starts to slide his pants off, ready to wash below his waist.

“Please, just consider it. I plan to leave soon, within the next few days. I just have to send out a letter tomorrow, and I should be ready to go.”

“You’re leaving? Already?”

“I know what I have to do now. I can’t waste any more time when we can end this war now.”

She peers at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I…” 

“What is it?” He sits up, leaning in close to cup her cheek, brushing away her falling tears. 

“Will we ever see each other again?” Her voice is trembling, lips quivering. His heart sinks into his stomach, seeing her like this.

He presses his forehead to hers. “I’ll find you when this is all over. I promise you. Whatever you do, don’t go anywhere near the shore, okay?” The small-scale Rumbling should only affect the fleets, which will be in the middle of the ocean, far from the shore. Still, he can’t risk anything happening to her. Not when he isn’t there to protect her.

She nods, not asking for any further explanation. He presses a small kiss to her forehead. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to bring us peace.” 

~~~

Eren asks you to drop off a letter in the mailbox, addressed to someone named Azumabito. Apparently, she is an ally to Eldians who is stationed here in Marley, so she can arrange a ship for him to head back home. 

There are still so many questions left unanswered, though you decide not to ask them. Maybe it’s foolish to trust someone you’ve only known for a month. But Eren has given you more truth about this harsh world that anyone else the entire time you’ve been here. And he’s the only one who’s ever promised you a better life. 

Two days after you mailed the letters, you receive a response. It’s addressed to you, though you’re sure it’s meant for Eren. There’s a fancy insignia stamped to one corner of the envelope: a circle with a triangle in the center, formed by samurai swords. You keep it safe in your pocket as you head for the kitchen, ready to deliver Eren’s dinner. 

He reads it when he’s finished with his meal. You watch as he scans the letter carefully, mouthing a few words under his breath. When he reaches the end, he looks up at you, a small grin on his face. “She’s arranged a ship for tomorrow morning, before sunrise.”

You gasp, surprised at how soon his departure is. “Tomorrow?”

He nods, folding the letter and tucking it beneath his pillow. 

You let out a deep breath, unsure what else to say. Noticing your quiet demeanor, he reaches for your hand to hold it. “I know this is happening so fast. But I’ve never been more certain about what I need to do until now.” He interlocks his fingers with yours, smiling. “And you helped me with that.”

“Me? How?”

“By being you. By giving me a chance to explain myself. Even when you found out I was from Paradis, you didn’t judge me. You got to know me. It showed me that there are people, good people, on this side. That even in a ruthless place like this, there is beauty to be saved.” 

You don’t say anything, throat too heavy with emotion to respond. Blinking away your tears, you take his tray from his lap, walking quickly to the door. Before you can leave, he asks, “Can you please come back to help me shave?”

Without turning to face him, you nod, exiting his room, stifling your sobs on your way down the hallway. Your heart yearns for more time with him. For the past few weeks, being here has been an escape from your painful reality. You’re not seen as an Eldian, you aren’t considered a second-class citizen. With him, you’re just you. 

You know that you can’t keep him caged here forever. Like a bird, he’s ready to spread his wings. He’s ready to be free. While you’re heartbroken to see him leave, you’re thrilled for him to fulfill his destiny. All you can hope is that one day, you’ll be reunited in a better place than here. 

You return to his room a couple of minutes later with everything you need to give him a close shave. His facial hair has grown out quite a bit since he arrived. You lather his face with a small amount of soap, scrubbing the suds off with a warm, wet towel. He closes his eyes, indulging in your relaxing touch. After mindful preparation, you begin to shave his goatee with a straight razor, pulling his skin taut, gliding the blade carefully across his chin, cleaning it after every stroke. When you’re done with his beard, you focus your attention on his mustache, delicately moving the razor until his skin is smooth and shaven. You smile as you wipe off any remaining residue with the towel. 

With everything discarded into the bucket of water set on the nightstand, you take this time to admire his face, memorizing every detail. The flutter of his lashes, the bridge of his nose, the sharpness of his jawline, the plush of his lips. It’s only now that you realize how close to him you are. You’re kneeling beside him on the bed, noses almost touching, your fingers grazing his smooth skin. He opens his eyes to look at you, and his breath hitches at the intimacy, glancing at your mouth. 

Before you can move, he closes the short distance, kissing you on the lips. As quickly as it happens, he pulls away, blushing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have asked first. I’m sorry – ”

You cut him off with another kiss, hungry for more. It’s his last day; in mere hours from now, he’ll be gone, and you’re not sure when you’ll see him again, if ever. It’s crossed your mind many times by now, how it would feel to be with him like this. The feeling of his lips on yours, the slide of his tongue in your mouth, the taste of his spit. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you’ve never thought about it. In fact, it’s been on your mind every night as you fall asleep, wishing you were in his arms instead of alone in your bed. 

He doesn’t pull away this time, sinking in deeper, slipping inside your mouth to swirl his tongue with yours. He’s just as sweet as you fantasized he’d be, luscious and rich in your mouth. His skin is smooth against your fingertips, tracing his jawline. One hand slides around your waist, tugging you closer to him, the other wraps around the nape of your neck, holding your head steady. You swing one leg over him, straddling his lap, hoisting the hem of your dress past your hips, revealing your panties. He moans, shifting beneath you in the bed to slip his trousers down, displaying his erection bulging in his underwear.

“Is this okay?” he huffs, catching his breath. His voice wavers, his only visible eye half-lidded with arousal, unable to keep his cool.

“Yes,” you answer, grinding yourself on him, kissing him sloppily. His grip is on your hips, guiding you to rut against his cock faster. The friction between you is enough to make you wet, your slick soaking through the fabric. 

“You’re an angel,” he whispers, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to make you feel good.” His thumb teases the elastic of your waistband, hand slipping inside to rub your clit against his fingers. 

“Eren,” you moan, his sensual touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. He slowly slides two digits inside you, massaging your bud with his palm while he pumps his fingers into your sopping cunt. His cock is stiff beneath you, watching you ride his hand, cursing under his breath until you reach your climax, coating him in your arousal. 

You’re breathing heavily, in a daze from your orgasm. He removes his hand from you, slipping it past his underwear to jerk his cock. You reach for him, tugging his bottoms down his legs, replacing his fist with yours, stroking him eagerly. He whispers your name, bucking his hips in tandem with your movements. You’re aching for more, desperate to feel him inside you, feel him deeper. You position yourself correctly, pulling the crotch of your panties to the side to  tease the head of his cock up and down your folds. He sits up on his elbows, watching you with a nervous expression on his face. “Are you sure?” he asks.

You nod, smiling at him. “I’m sure. I want to be close to you, Eren.”

He swears, letting his head fall back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. You sink down on him, his dick stretching you out smoothly, still sleek from your previous orgasm. He moans, craning his neck to take in the lewd sight before him. “Oh my god,” he groans, thrusting his hips into you. 

You ride him slowly, his entire length filling you up to the brim. He plants his feet into the mattress to fuck you deeper, the metal frame creaking with every thrust. It doesn’t take long until you’re both coming together. He shoots his load inside you while you gush all over him, creating a wet mess between you that you couldn’t care less about in the euphoric state you’re in. You lift off him, rolling to his side, relaxing into the pillow with him beside you, cradling you in his arms. He gives you a smooch on the cheek, nuzzling his nose with yours. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“What?”

“You really are an angel,” he says, smiling at you.

~~~

Eren wakes up alone, and he’s almost convinced that it was all a dream until he spots the small note scribbled on paper laying his nightstand. 

It’s too hard to say goodbye, so I won’t. I trust you to keep your promise. We’ll see each other again soon.

With daybreak approaching, Eren leaves for the docks quickly with only the clothes on his back and letters in his pocket, including hers. With sunrise teasing the horizon, he makes it to the meeting place just in time. He recognizes Azumabito and greets her, explaining the situation as they board the ship. She informs him that they are waiting for several other passengers, so he makes himself comfortable by a window.  

A few minutes pass and one of the crew approaches him. “Mr. Jaeger, there is a woman trying to board, claiming they are with you. Do you know anything about this?”

He glances out the window towards the docks and to his shock, he sees an angel with a suitcase in hand, talking to Azumabito. His heart races, overjoyed as he jumps out of his seat, sprinting out of the ship to meet her. 

[glacierclear]

Having some mad fuckboy!Leon thoughts rn

After he's unlearned all the stuff he taught himself and is basically done with the whole fuckboy thing oh man he would be SO soft. Holding your hand? Check. Cuddling at his dorm? Check. Being more gentle and loving during sex? Also check.

Also, stealing his hoodies. He'd melt for sure

oh, for sure. healed fuckboy!leon would be a SIGHT TO BEHOLD.

he wouldn't be perfect...

progress isn't linear. he'd stumble a lot. make a lot of mistakes and backward steps. you would need to be patient. you would need to be careful. especially in the early stages. because damn, he's trying. he's trying so hard. and you need to acknowledge the effort, even if it's hard to see, because any praise towards this will mean so much to him.

it'd come out especially on his bad days. he's more impatient. short-tempered. lashes out over seemingly mundane things. you'll need to be firm but not demeaning. catch his tells, his habits, and figure out the real reason he's behaving the way he is.

you'll need to slowly teach him the true depth of his words. that they hurt you just as much as they hurt him. he's unfamiliar with the idea of accountability, so you need to teach him about consequences. let him know you're upset and angry at him. but just because you're upset doesn't mean he's irredeemable. he'll assume any pushback is you ending things permanently. he needs the space to fuck up and forgive himself.

and damn it all, he's the jealous type. possessive. protective as all hell. it's toxic, and you need to teach him boundaries. it'll be tough. he worked so fucking hard to get you, doesn't he deserve to have you the way he needs? but no. you need freedom. he'll learn eventually, but be prepared to send a lot of "im safe and i miss u" texts to him when you're out with friends.

speaking of toxic. the toxic masculinity will be hell to unpack. sometimes it's nice! he insists on you being passenger princess. he insists on picking up the bill (well, once you're actually dating). he doesn't mind taking care of spiders (and fine, just because you asked nicely, he won't kill them). but...the bads get real bad.

displaying any kind of vulnerable emotion is like pulling teeth. when he's nervous, scared, anxious...he'll take it out on others. or himself. early progress will be made when he's blackout drunk and spilling everything to you. he reveals the deepest, most fragile parts of himself on these nights. it's like he's an entirely different person. and the next morning he'll do his best to sweep it all under the rug, but you have to fight for it. accept him and love him despite how "totally fucking lame" he acted (his words, not yours).

that being said. the good parts? oh yeah. Boyfriend Material 100%.

he'd do anything for you. anything. don't even say shit as a joke because he'll do it. at a certain point he doesn't even care if his friends think he's being stupid. you're his whole world. he'd wear stupid t-shirts for you. go to that concert you're dying to see even if he thinks the music sucks. he'll bash his head into a wall and learn to bake french pastries if it'll get you to smile. through hell and high water, he'll follow.

and yeah, he weans himself off social media. stops posting thirst trap photos and cuts ties with his sneaky links. but the lack of external validation is felt, and it kind of falls on you to fill the void. clingy won't even begin to describe what he is. he'll resort to begging. he will. late to work in the morning? that's not his problem. you're staying in that damn bed and you are cuddling him. you think him wearing tank tops in the middle of December is just a dumb mistake, but you catch on quick when he starts to shiver and needs to huddle you for warmth. "you want me to die of hypothermia? c'mon, babe. get closer." and yeah. those ice cold hands are going straight on your stomach. have fun.

part of the excitement will come from truly learning who he is as a person. most of his herculean facade is a persona. he doesn't actually like beer. he likes dry whiskey and refined clear liquors. he doesn't actually enjoy parties. the crowds make him nauseous, and he can always blame it on the alcohol. he's not actually all that into sports. you figure out he has a well-loved public library card and he knows the mystery section like the back of his hand. he's vibrant. shockingly intelligent. gets that light in his eyes when you nudge him about his interests. it'll be hard to get him to admit it, but his favorite part of the week is huddling on the couch watching nature documentaries with you.

and it's a two-way street. he remembers everything about you. early on in your relationship you casually assume he'll never keep track of the important dates. that's the stereotype, right? you couldn't be more wrong. birthdays. anniversaries. doctor's appointments. your fucking dog's yearly vaccine. he won't necessarily go all-out, not until you're more of a long-term thing, but what he does is meaningful. sincere. you won't get $500 of flowers and chocolate for valentine's day, but he'll abduct you from work, drive you out far, far into the countryside. lay out a patchwork blanket and stare at the night sky. he brought your favorite brand of pita chips and sneakily worms a gift box in your hand. it's that stupid $15 thing that's been sitting in your online shopping cart for weeks that you could never justify buying. and yeah, he'd appreciate a blowjob under the stars, but seeing you happy is enough.

and you could never begin to imagine how loving and passionate he can get during sex. it's totally different than his usual flavor. casual hook-ups and one-night stands are merely a fraction of his power. he tends to avoid intimate gestures on those nights. no eye-contact. hardly any kissing. he likes it rough and he likes it fast. but with you? he takes his time. commits your body to muscle memory. his gaze is intense, and he watches every reaction, trying to map out your flesh like a cartographer. he'll happily make out with you for upwards of a couple hours before you even begin the real foreplay. and you always cum first. always.

oh, but if you're not a fan of PDA...he might be a problem. he's proud of you. you're the hottest thing on two legs as far as he's concerned. he'll have no issue grabbing your ass, wrapping a hand around your waist, kissing along your neck, whispering the most obscene things in your ear. it's not even to make a point. there's no rhyme or reason. he just wants to. and you're right there. and what right does the world have to tell him to stop? does it make people uncomfortable? who cares. he'll lay off if it really bugs you that much...but if he catches anyone staring at you too long he'll ramp it up. it's almost aggressive. you turn to scold him, noticing how his eyes aren't even on you. he's staring at someone else. someone who's looking at what's his.

he's a yes man, too. if you need restraint and careful guidance in your life...he's not the one. he'll support any weird, out of the blue hobby you want to pursue. if you even joke about quitting your job he'll egg you on. "i'll drive right up there and tell your boss i'll fuck his wife!" and you have to talk him down. he'll punch the sun for you. he'll be behind every impulsive purchase. every 4am trip to walmart. every instinct to feed your id. any "little treat" you want to have he'll get it. because you deserve the best. if you ever want to have a stable bank account you need the be the voice of reason. because it's not gonna be him.

yeah. he'll have a lot of problems. don't worry about that. but, at least with fuckboy!leon, you'll almost never have any doubts that he loves you. once you manage to pin his heart on his sleeve, it's there for life and it'll always be yours.