#he also hates himself and wants to get better and be better

[willowed-wisp]

NSFW ALPHABET [ simon ‘ghost’ riley]

Just my opinion based on how Simon comes across in the games. It was quite fun to interpret it. Hope I didn’t do too bad of a job 🤞

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Ghost would be more closed off to a one night stand, so it’s lucky if you even get his name let alone for him to stay after the sex.

As for in a relationship, he cares so deeply that if he’s jackhammered you he’ll find himself gently massaging your sore pussy- you did take him ‘so well’ after all (his words)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He used to hate his arms, all the scars he had endured but he paid good, well earned money on his sleeve tattoos. And with encouragement from his partner- he likes them.

As for you, your face. He rarely gets to see all of his own, so seeing your face in any sense is a blessing. For intimacy it’s a luxury to see your brows screw up and lips parted. He knows you don’t have the same benefit of seeing his ALL the time.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes the idea of claiming you by coming inside but the idea of children in a world like this… it scares him. Even if you’re on birth control… too much of a risk.

Simon loves seeing you on your knees, lips pink and raw after finishing down your throat. And you better be swallowing- he doesn’t like tryna get stains out of the bedsheets.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wants to fuck you in close quarters to the rest of 141, and use his balaclava as a gag to shut you up.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Simon is said to be in his earlier to mid-30s and doesn’t have as much experience as the others but you’ve never complained about his skill before. He’s a quick learner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

ADVANCED MISSIONARY; As said before, he loves your face. So something front facing but spicier than missionary- legs on his shoulders… laid flat on the edge of the kitchen table with him stood ploughing into you.

AGAINST THE WALL: Simon loves knowing it’s all him giving you pleasure- you clung to him for dear life. Nails cutting into him and limp from the waist down, he’s not shy when it comes to pain… not that kind anyway.

DOGGY: The only exception to him not facing you is when you’ve been teasing him all day long. He loves the roughness and how much of you he can feel at that angle. Intoxicating.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Simon goes Ghost mode during sex. It’s a scale of kinda serious to don’t talk kind of serious. Depends on how long he’s gone without it. If he’s on leave and it’s on the couch during movie night and you clash teeth- he’s so serious about it but when you start laughing, his eyes go puppy dog and he joins you in hysterics.

He can be very goofy so he has that side when his guard is down.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He likes to keep in tidy down there, not completely shaven but nothing to stop you from giving him sloppy head.

He has light eyelashes but the hair is so short you can barely see the true colour - a blondish brown colour.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Like most things with Simon, he truly depends on what mood you catch him in. He’s a chill guy, he’s the type to get you gifts without making a big deal about it.

He just wants your sole undivided attention, that’s romance in his eyes. Having a connection with you, spending time with you. So he’s kissing up your body, and eating you out like there’s no tomorrow without expecting you to return the favour.

Simon is all about eye contact, kissing and making you feel special in the moment. So I guess you could call him a pinch romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Being away from you is a death sentence, but the mission is work. That doesn’t mean LT doesn’t jack off, to images of you riding him or panting beneath him, when he’s in the shower.

Off duty he has you, he doesn’t need to jack off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

BONDAGE: Hands behind your back, tied with his belt. Or he doesn’t mind, he knows how to break out of ties anyway.

VOYEURISM: Loves watching you masturbate, revels in it because he knows he’ll have you coming on his cock in the next few minutes.

DOMINANCE: Not in an unhealthy way, he’s a BIG guy (and he uses it to his advantage). Caging you in and hitching you up at his waist, repeating the words, “Who do you belong to?” “Who makes you feel so good?”

And the answer every single time is ‘you, Si.’

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Nowhere public, there’s a reason he wears a mask in public let alone being caught with his dick out.

His favourite may be a wall, especially if Soap is staying in the guest room… because the master bedroom is beside it. Ghost is territorial like that, you’re his.

The bed is too comfortable for him when he’s initially back. Simon will hold your hips and watch you bounce on his dick while his back is on the fluffy carpet. Carpet burns were worth it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Kissing his tattoos- man this guy gets pent up when you do that. All the way up his arm, through to his chest. Do this and you will find his trousers tented and tight.

Ghost is very susceptible to touch, he spends so much time trying not to get hit by stray bullets or by fists that when he lets his guard down- he really gets turned on by crotch palming or kissing. Makeout sessions quickly become a night long sex fest.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hates being blindfolded, absolutely despises it. Even when relaxed it’s difficult for Ghost to just be Simon. He likes being able to see you, his PTSD comes in play there.

Also, another no no, is you wearing a skull mask or himself wearing it in the bedroom. When he’s at home, he doesn’t even want to remember what happened in the field. Let alone bring it into the most vulnerable position he’s gonna be in. He may even draw the line at face coverings in general.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As said before, he couldn’t care less if he receives. Only that he makes you cum at least once.

Don’t mistake that for him not liking blowjobs, he loves it- again, a touch thing but he would rather watching you come undone.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Like a lot of things with Simon, it depends on his mood and it you can handle it at the time.

Simon is a kinda soft dom because he cares about his significant other and doesn’t want to hurt you but if you can take it… you’d better find something to hold onto. Legs and abdominal muscles galore- he is a tyrant if you wish it.

But he doesn’t need to do that ALL the time, he can do soft and gentle just as well. Deep, powerful thrusts… letting you adjust after a couple of rounds.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If you’ve been teasing him, he will pull you into a restroom and have you drooling and seeing stars.

He prefers to have his time with you, to get you well adjusted for his size by fingering and then eating you out. Dragging out orgasm after orgasm to get you to relax.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t normally like fucking in public, but as said before- if you touch him in the right places and tell him how hot you are for him… let’s say he will find a dressing room or bathroom stall (within reason) to stop his hardness.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Have you seen this man? 6’5” and muscles for days… Simon has a LOT of stamina.

The first week he gets home you’re lucky when he’s not inside of you. He can go multiple times a day for an average of two hour sessions. He likes to take his time with you.

Quickies wise about 6 rounds in a row.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Simon’s not a fan of toys. Doesn’t own any and doesn’t plan on buying. He’s sure in his abilities and when you a moaning mess impaled on his cock- he’d say you’re quite satisfied.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Edges you from time to time and make you beg for some release. But that’s only when he’s in one of his sarcastic moods- mostly after he’s hung out with Soap.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not obnoxiously loud, but not quiet. His voices get a bit higher or goes lower when he says your name. Holding your hair while you’re on your knees, choking on his cock. It’s kind of addictive.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Your smell. Purposefully buries his nose in the crux of your shoulder in general. Especially when so close to his release- you’ve been squeezing his size continuously for the past five minutes and the scent of you, not your perfume or shampoo, can toss him off that cliff.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Above average at about 7.5 inches, but thick. No wonder he indulges in extensive foreplay before fucking you. He’s the perfect size, nothing too extreme but hits the correct spots.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s touch starved on missions and doesn’t fancy asking the boys for that, so he’s pretty horny. You don’t help dressing all pretty in white lingerie the day he gets back.

On a scale of 0-10, Simon is an 8-10.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Simon finds it difficult to sleep in general, only after a day’s fuck fest is he worn out enough to sleep soundly. Next to his partner.

[strwberri-milk]

haiiii

may I request LADs guys reacting to the reader taking care of them when they're sick?

heres sylus!

Zayne is in denial when he's sick. He isn't the biggest fan of taking rest whenever he's sick, meaning he becomes a busybody whenever he's home. Despite his own feelings about not wanting to do nothing while sick, he's the first person to call out when he's infectious. He doesn't want to risk getting anybody else at the hospital sick after all.

You need to force him into bed, pulling out his procedure for whenever you're not feeling well. You can't do it with the precision that he normally approaches it but you do it well enough that he's actually feeling better. He'll make passing remarks about feeling totally useless now that you're taking care of him but honestly, he's also never felt this rested before.

Xavier doesn't really seem any different than his usual self other than being even more prone to dozing off. He's struggling to stay awake, sniffling lightly as he's got some congestion. You wouldn't know he was sick if it weren't for the fact that even though he's dozing off, he seems to struggle to stay asleep. He looks more tired, not even having an appetite thanks to his fatigue.

You spending time to take care of him makes him happy. All he really wants is to hold you and try to fall asleep but the thought of getting you sick upsets him. Despite that, you just tell him you'll deal with the consequences later, holding him and brushing your fingers through his hair as you soothe him to sleep.

Rafayel has two types of sick. When he's not really sick he's mopey and whiny, the slight headache and runny nose making him crave your attention all the time. As long as you provide him with your attention and some kisses he's more than happy to stop moaning about how sick he feels. You don't really need to do much for him when he's like this thankfully.

When he's actually sick though you wouldn't really be able to tell. He doesn't act sick at all and that's what ends up tipping you off. He manages a proper sleep schedule and actually eats his meals on time since his body is desperate to be actually taken care of to try and stave off his illness. You end up needing to make sure he's taking his medicine since he hates how it tastes. You choose to coddle him with attention, feeling bad for how sick he feels. He doesn't even have the energy to tease you but he does bury himself into you, enjoying the warmth your body brings him.

[sk3tch404]

Yandere Weeping Clown Thoughts!!

CW: Nothing too bad, just your usual creeper, manipulation, and analysis(?) on his character. Tbh hes so yandere coded that everything blurs together atp (and I'm using "yandere coded" sort of loosely bc that makes me sound like a yandere enabler or smth, which like, lol no but in fiction yeah funne). Called him Joker bc it was easier to use/remember than Weepy, and also bc they called them that in all the lore drop so 🤷‍♀️

A/n: Just saw the new Hullabaloo lore drop and IDV has taken me back into its clutches. He is so yandere material 🫶 Proof read enough to go "that's postable."

Joker is quite sensitive to his darlings perception of him. He always tries to do the right thing, tries to please you so that when you smile at him, that strangely unfamiliar warmth spreads through his chest. A smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, stringing his lips up as if he were a puppet. And a puppet of your design he shall be if you wished it so.

Joker is definitely a worshipping sort of yandere. He'll do most of anything for his darling if it made them just a teeny bit closer. Any progress is better than no progress. Even if it means visiting you in the dead of night to "check on you," or often "bumping into you" in places that you frequent at the manor. He'll stop bothering you if you reject his advances, but he'll come back around sooner or later. Joker doesn't want you to hate him, but he also doesn't want to be away from you! Although you may say some hurtful things like, "It's making me uncomfortable, sorry," or, "Can you leave me alone for a while," he knows deep down that if he teeters around the boundaries you set for long enough, he can wiggle his way through and to your heart. At least, that's what he hopes.

Despite his subservient nature to his darling, Joker isn't so obedient around others. He has his more introverted traits for sure, but his sensitivity to anger is fragile, especially when it comes to you. Joker doesn't have many qualms about taking a stand for you or himself if it came to it. He wants to be your protector, so he isn't very afraid to say something if he feels the need to. It can become quite the scene if the other party doesn't back down, making either you or someone else the mediator of the debacle. It's exhausting to have to manage your persistent follower, but it's better to handle a situation rather than let it spiral out of control, leaving the consequences of his mental break to you.

With his fragility also comes his keen eye for any chances to take advantage of a situation. Joker isn't very intimidating physically or feared for being calculating, but he is usually dismissed, and that makes for perfect cover if he plays his cards right. Framing people for his crimes can be a walk in the park depending on the situation, and manipulating those weaker than him isn't something he wholeheartedly takes pride in, but if it's for you, if it's for you, the singular most important person and one he adores most in his rotten life, then he's happy to oblige. If it wins you over in the end, then that's all that matters, right?

Joker will try to convince his darling to stay by his side and will get more desperate depending on the circumstances. He's not a kidnapper type, more of an idealist. Not to confuse that with delusional though. Joker knows full well how you probably feel about your strained relationship, but if he doesn't try now, he'll never get to be with you, and that's unacceptable. He wants to live a romantic and sweet life with you day in and day out, so he'd hate to see you miserable and locked up. If he can't love you the way he wants to, then what would be the point?

Even with that, Joker isn't above guilt tripping or petty manipulation tactics like that. He really can be unpredictable at times and can become very dangerous if his darling constantly shows no interest. Although he is a romantic idealist in his mind with you, he's also the type to slip into the "if I can't have you, no one can" mentality. He might just end up hurting his darling, but it won't be anything too drastic by the time it happens. Joker would feel terrible, terrified, and utterly disgusted with himself after seeing your petrified state. He'd drop to his knees and attempt to mutter consoling words, somewhat even begging for your forgiveness.

"Y- Y/n, no, oh no, no... Y/n, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please. Don't cry, I didn't mean to. I truly am sorry. I had just- I wasn't thinking straight. I would never hurt you. If only you hadn't done this, then... No, just come back to me Y/n."

He is still quite demanding even while apologizing, which would make your fear even greater. Joker doesn't want to force his darling's hand, but if it really came down to it, he'd give his darling a grade A verbally manipulative beat down. He'll use anything and everything against you so that all else but him looks ugly in that moment. Sure being at the receiving end of his unstable anger was horrifying, but be honest with yourself, were it not for him who has saved you countless times in both matches and inside the manor, you would be long dead by now. Anything is on the table, anything just so you will come back to him once more. He has little to no guilt in it, just the fear that he will seriously break if you're still in a right state of mind. So, in turn, he'll unfortunately have to break you first.

[triglycercule]

tonight i'm gonna fall asleep and tonight i WILL dream about horrordust if i have anything to say about it,,,, i'm horrordustpilled they're everything to me right now. forever thinking about gshaewru's art of my hc,,,

the reluctant besties that they are. the assholes that they are. killer you should commit a koukatsu by maretu and kill their asses "you will never return here and the dead will not either"

[lancermylove]

His Weaknesses, Fears, & Insecurities

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: Leaders x gn!Reader

Warning: None

This post only contains part of the HCs. To read the full HCs, click here.

———————————————

Malleus

His horns are sensitive to the touch. He’s glad he’s tall, and few can reach his horns.

Cakes are his krypto.

The prince has a fear of rejection. He has already been pushed away and left out so many times that he doesn’t want to think about people who are important to him pushing him away.

Speaking of being left out, the thought of being lonely and having no one around him shakes him to the core.

He has a habit of overthinking and overanalyzing.

Leona

Leona has a hard time adjusting to the cold weather. He braves through it but hates winter from the bottom of his heart.

He’s a beastman, so his ears are overly sensitive, not only from touch but also from sounds. When he hears high-pitched sounds, it makes him see red.

His body is so used to sleeping for most of the day that it has become his habit. If he has to go a day without naps, Leona is grumpy af.

Pride, you say? He refuses to accept it. It’s not his weakness; it’s his birthright – he’s a lion and a prince.

Fear of losing you. This is a deep-rooted fear, but he will not be able to tell you.

Idia

He’s sensitive to the sunlight. Not only is his skin pale, but he stays cooped up in his room most of the time, so his skin can’t handle the sun.

Lack of sleep. Why sleep when you can dedicate that time to video games?

Major social anxiety. Crowds = nope.

Not able to make decisions. While he may not overthink as much as others, Idia is naturally indecisive, especially if the decision includes other people, like where do you want to eat?

Azul

Distrust in others, but also others don’t trust him. Due to his past, he doesn’t trust people, at least not easily. When others don’t trust him, he calls them smart.

He doesn’t like showing his octopus form, but Azul can’t go one day without being near water. He always misses being under the ocean, but shh, you didn’t read anything.

He has a lot of insecurities due to his past, and even if he is sensitive to certain things, Azul won’t let others see it.

Azul does not take failure well. He eventually bounces back, but it takes a strong mental toll on him.

Riddle

Quick tempered, but no one dares to tell him this. Riddle knows somewhere in his heart but refuses to let his brain process it.

He is a perfectionist and sees no problem with it. Does he want everyone to be perfect? No, he’s just too strict with himself because people have high expectations of him, and Riddle will live up to them.

Riddle has a fear of disappointing people, especially since his overblotting incident. He still can’t believe he broke one of the biggest rules for any magic user.

Vil

His face has to be in perfect condition all the time. If he notices even one hair out of place, Vil will get stressed (and fix it immediately).

His skin is also delicate, so any harsh conditions will affect him immediately. But he has a skin care product for everything, so his skin will bounce back no matter what.

Wrinkles. He better not see even one wrinkle; otherwise he will face mask the hell out of it. He fears aging and doesn’t want to see anything happen to his beautiful skin.

Being compared to Neige. He has learned his lesson after his overblotting, but Vil still can’t handle being compared to Neige.

Kalim

Kalim gets so hyper that he runs out of energy very quickly. But his energy comes back just as fast.

His overly trusting nature gets him into trouble quickly and makes him an easy target for others. He sees good in everyone and can’t see the red flags. Luckily, Jamil reads the situation fast enough and stops Kalim from getting badly hurt.

He tends to blame himself for things that are out of his control. Even if someone explains it’s not his fault, Kalim feels guilty and continues to feel that way for days.

His sheltered upbringing makes him oblivious to many things, especially danger and people with ulterior motives.

———————————————

➣ All Masterlists

➣ TWST Masterlist: [Genre][By Characters]

➣ Tumblr Only ML: TWST ML

[foodtruckery]

I've been having crazy Stancest brain rot thinking about an AU where they don't have the portal incident and instead have crazy marathon hate sex instead (Inspired by some amazing art by @CoreArde on Twitter) and I thought it'd be fun to share that with you.

They start off arguing in the lab and then oops they're fucking on the lab floor, and they really should be thinking this through but nope now they're upstairs fucking on the kitchen table and okay maybe now they'll finally talk about it nah, they're fucking in Ford's bed now.

It starts off as rough hate sex getting out years of frustration, but by the time they make it to the kitchen its become insanely desperate and cloying because they missed each other, and their bodies fit so well together, and GOD how could they have not been doing this all time? They're going at it so long that they basically end up passed out in Ford's bed by the end, and Stan's not going to be sitting down for a while after this. He's probably just happy to be sleeping in a bed, but Ford is trying to figure out how he got so far from the initial plan.

Even better if the two of them have been harboring feelings for years and never acted on it, because they get the one-two punch of all the weight of their time apart and processing the fact that OH GOD I JUST FUCKED MY BROTHER (which of course they both wanted to do but still).

I have no idea what would happen after that, but both of them waking up sore, sweat soaked, sticky with cum (some still inside Stan because of course Ford didn't use a condom this wasn't supposed to happen) after having gone at each other like rabbits in heat despite never having expressed their attraction to each other before is a hilarious and hot idea to me. What do you think?

HI THERE ANON. i am so fucking sorry that i left you waiting for so long about this, but i need you to know it's because i was FUCKING OBSESSED with this. like just absolutely beside myself over it, and i refused to respond until i had a chance to sit down and respond PROPERLY.

cause uh YEAH FRIEND i know the exact fucking piece of art (explicit) you're talking about, because it's INCREDIBLE. and in case you didn't know, the artist is over here too and shares some fucking fantastic writing and headcanons also! (seriously, go check out @/cartoonsinthemorning if you haven't. and cart, i hope you don't mind that anon and i both kinda lost our minds about your art over here! i genuinely have no idea what tag etiquette is on this site and didn't wanna bombard you, but you did this. again.)

i'll be honest, anon, this kinda got away from me (fucking shocker) and i am too tired to do any legit editing of it right now, so please forgive any typos or weirdness! i'll try and clean it up before it eventually goes up on ao3. but thank you for such a LOVELY ask because this was so hot, and so inspiring, and i hope i did a little justice to your idea and cart's gorgeous art!

--- Ford isn't entirely sure how it had started. His memory, his perception of time, his ability to follow a linear order of events -- all if it is less than reliable at the moment, so he can't entirely blame himself for losing track of things here and there. But the jump between trying to wrestle his journal out of Stan's hands to trying to wrestle Stan out of his dingey jeans is a jarring transition to lose in the dull static that's been edging around his awareness for weeks now. 

Not jarring enough to stop him, though. 

He thinks, vaguely, while he's blindly tugging at Stan's denim, that there's a concerningly high likelihood that he's hallucinating. His head is swimming in so much caffeine and adrenaline that he doesn't even feel the rough concrete of the lab floor under his knees -- maybe that isn't where he is? Maybe he'd nodded off without realizing. Maybe he's going to come to with another lapful of polaroids and a new humiliating tattoo. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe -- he can reckon with a probability model later. For the first time in what feels like months, the stability of his perceived reality is not actually at the forefront of Ford's mind.

Pressing in on him harder than the doubt, harder than the disassociation from his physical body, and harder than the threat of the creature lingering in the depths of his subconscious is anger. It feels like a beacon in the muddled, fuzzy mess inside his head, something bright and real and his. It's searing through him, slicing away all the frayed edges of his paranoia and doubt like a hot blade through so much butter. 

Ford clings to the sharp edges of that anger and feels more alert than he has in weeks. 

He can't remember how their bickering had taken this particular turn, but if he's liable to lose his eyes and his life in the next few days, Ford will be fucking damned if he squanders the opportunity. He knows he's made a mess of things, that he's made the sorts of mistakes that can't and frankly shouldn't be forgiven. 

But he also knows with blinding, white hot certainty that he's only here, now, because of Stan's mistakes.

Ford may not deserve absolution, but he does deserves this. 

Laughter cuts through the lab, rough and mocking, and Ford's attention finally falls, properly, on Stan. He has a bruise blooming on his cheek and a snide smirk twisting his lips. He's also on his back, his jeans and a threadbare pair of boxers bunched in Ford's fists and pulled so low he can see the tight curls of his pubic hair and the root of his cock. 

"What's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asks, mocking, and it's only then that Ford realizes he's paused halfway through stripping his twin's lower half. The bite of the cold concrete under his knees still feels far away, but the rough material in his palms, and the heat of Stan's body so close to him are sharp, clear details. "No hands on experience with a dick that ain't your own? Afraid you might actually be bad at somethin' for once?" 

Ford narrows his eyes, feeling the hot point of anger cutting through him, steadying him, and he jerks Stan's clothes hard enough that he gets the material past his knees in one tug. Stan laughs at him again, but it stutters into a little 'oof!' when Ford flips him onto his stomach. 

He doesn't care that Stan's pants are still caught around his calves and his boots. He doesn't care that Stan hisses something that sounds like pain when he's yanked onto his knees and dragged backwards several inches across the concrete. He doesn't even care that, once upon a time, he'd dreamed of this, of crossing this line with the only person he'd ever really loved in any way that mattered, and it's nothing like the softer, sweeter picture he used to imagine. 

Stan's hips are soft, and the skin gives easily under the iron grip Ford has on them, holding him in place as he grinds against his ass. Even through his slacks, the heat of Stan's body is intense, addictive, and he grinds forward again, harder, watching the friction rub a pink  patch against his skin. 

Stan, shameless and selfish as always, pushes eagerly back against him. Ford has barely done anything beyond rocking the outline of his cock against his hole, but he can hear Stan panting against the ground, can see his hands curling into fists. He remembers how many times Stan had called Carla McCorkle "easy" in high school and thinks, now, that the easy one had been his brother. 

"You gonna keep humpin' me, or are you gonna fuck me?" Stan demands, rocking as firmly back as he can with the bruising grip Ford has on him. 

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Ford bites out. It would serve Stan right, he thinks, if he got himself off exactly like this, no different than grinding against a particularly firm couch pillow. Just a conveniently warm object for Ford to release some tension with. 

Stan looks back over his shoulder and flashes teeth at him. It isn't a smile. "Oh, I get it. Cold feet? Well, we can just chalk it up to one more thing ya promised and then backed out of as soon as you actually had to make a choice. Good to know some things never change, Stanford."

He's being goaded, and Ford knows that. But the anger boils in his chest, and he thinks, why should he care about what Stan does or doesn't deserve from him? This is about what Ford deserves.

And what Ford deserves is to have his dick so far up Stan's ass he'll be able to feel it in the back of his throat. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he snaps while he releases one of Stan's hips to yank his slacks open. The bruise of his fingerprints already forming against Stan's skin thrills him, almost to distraction, if it weren't for Stan laughing again. 

"'Course not," he says, shifting his center of balance to dig into the pocket of his dirty red coat. The little packet he tosses over his shoulder bounces off his own ass to land by Ford's knee, the word LUBE printed in large, bold letters across the front. He should be surprised to see it, and part of him is. The word "easy" comes to mind again. 

Ford rips the packet open with his teeth. 

"F-Fuck!" Stan curses, turning his forehead against the ground when Ford presses his slick cock into him a moment later without warning. 

Ford grabs him roughly by the waist when he twitches forward and yanks Stan back until his ass hits the open fly of his slacks. He makes a choked sound at that and turns his face into the crook of his own arm when Ford pulls back and rocks hard back into him. 

"What's wrong, Stanley?" he parrots. He pistons his hips at a punishing pace, watching his cock pumping in and out of the greedy, grasping ring of Stan's hole. "Nothing to say?" 

Stan makes a noise that's too muffled by the sleeve of his coat to understand, so Ford reaches down to take a fistful of his stupid mullet instead. The hitching gasp that escapes his twin when his head is forcefully jerked up makes him groan. "What was that? Come on, Stanley, use your words." 

"F-Fuck off," Stan says, his voice strained, almost whining. 

"I see you haven't gotten anymore eloquent since you left," Ford scoffs around the breathlessness in his own voice, feeling the anger and pleasure coiling harder in his gut. "What was it you said? Good to know some things never change." 

When he pulls Stan's hair again, just because he can, Stan moans. And when he shifts his hips, driving in just as hard at the new angle, Stan shouts. With his own knees bracketed on either side of his, Ford can feel the way his thighs tremble when he clenches around his cock, and he can feel the sweat beading up under his palm where he's digging darker bruises into Stan's side. 

Ford feels like he's on the edge of delirium again, consumed by every sound Stan makes, every twitch of his hips, every ounce of his heat. He thinks, a bit wildly, that Stan may have been made for this, made to take his cock, for how well he does. 

It isn't until Stan jerks under him, going hot and tight around his cock and making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, that Ford realizes he may have said part of that out loud. That Stan came over it. 

He groans low in his throat and thrusts half a dozen more times into Stan's clenching hole before he comes as well. 

It's quiet for a few minutes other than their ragged panting, but it's Stan who eventually reaches back and swats at Ford's hand until he lets go of his hair. He takes the hint and pulls out, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as his come trickles down Stan's thighs. It strikes him suddenly that he wants to follow the wet trail back up with his tongue. It's enough to make his cock give a feeble, appreciative twitch. 

He isn't sure if he's just terribly distracted or if he loses time again, because when Ford next lifts his head, Stan is on his feet, pants pulled up around his waist but still open, and he has his journal in hand. This might be more jarring than the last transition he'd lost. 

"What are you doing?" he demands, shoving himself back onto his own feet. He doesn't bother to tuck his cock back in, and he spots the moment Stan's eyes flick down. It's brief, but he'd seen it. 

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing? I'm taking your stupid diary and disappearing like you begged me to," Stan says. His voice is still a little raw, and Ford has a moment to realize how much he likes that, before the words catch up. 

He scoffs. "Oh! So now you want to actually help?! Is it always this easy to fuck the sense into you?" 

Stan's expression does a few things Ford doesn't understand before his brows ultimately slam down and he turns his back, storming towards the door with Ford's journal still in hand, and Ford himself hot on his heels. "You're fucking unbelievable, Stanford, you know that?!" 

"Me?! You're the one who came all over my lab floor and then decided he was ready to be reasonable!" 

Stan jams his thumb against the call button for the elevator several times in quick succession, despite the car already being on their floor and the gate sliding open. "Most people would just say thank you when someone agreed to help them out, but not you! What does Stanford Pines have to be grateful for? We're all just fucking lucky to get a task from ya, huh?" 

Ford crowds into the elevator with him before Stan can try to pull the gate or call the doors shut behind him. He punches the button to take them up himself, before making a grab for the journal, snarling when Stan leans back and holds it up above his head. 

"You're the one who threatened to destroy my work twenty minutes ago, Stanley! Why would I trust you with it now? Hell, I can't figure out why I trusted you enough to bring you here in the first place!" 

"Oh really? You can't?" Stan sneers, leaning in close. And when Ford takes a step back, Stan follows, backing him into a corner of the car. "I don't think you fuckin' trusted me to do shit, Stanford. I think you were all outta options cause nobody else could stand to put up with you anymore." 

Stan doesn't so much as hit a nerve as he takes a sledgehammer to it, and as soon as the elevator dings, Ford shoves him as hard as he can out into the study. Stan yelps when he stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and it's only knocking into a cluttered desk that keeps him from falling on his ass. 

Ford doesn't give him any time to right himself, storming in after him and grabbing him by the front of his jacket. Stan flinches, like he'ex expecting a punch, but Ford yanks him in and crushes his mouth against his instead. 

There's a dull thump that Ford only realizes was the journal being dropped when he feels both of Stan's hands on his shoulders. They curl briefly, grasping at him, and Ford feels his mouth starting to go soft and slack. But as soon as he presses in, runs his tongue along that loosening seam, he's suddenly being shoved backwards. 

If he weren't so damn confused, Ford would probably appreciate the picture Stan makes, lips slick and pants open, leaning back against one of Ford's desks. 

"What are you doing?!" Stan demands, like he's the one who doesn't know what day it is, and keeps losing track of events. 

"I would think even you could figure that out after what happened downstairs, Stanley."

Stan flushes, visible even in the low light of the study, though Ford isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. The scowl on his face doesn't help clear things up, either, though the fact that he isn't actually looking at Ford is...telling.  

"That ain't happening again," Stan states, and there isn't anything convincing about the way he says it at all. But when Ford steps forward, Stan sidesteps him and the desk. He makes a wrong turn in the dark, in a house he isn't familiar with, and flinches when Ford flips on the light in the kitchen he's walked into.

"I don't know how you expect to leave and hide my journal after leaving it in the study," he points out, frowning at the back of Stan's head. 

He isn't surprised when Stan whirls on him. He is, however, stunned still when he realizes Stan's eyes are wet. 

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?!" Stan shouts, his voice cracking over his name, and it makes something feel like it's cracking inside his chest. 

Ford has to wet his lips when he finds them and his throat dry. "...I told you what I wanted," he says.

"Yeah, you did! And when I finally agreed to do it, you threw a fucking fit about it! And now you're pissy because I'm not?! What do you want?" 

The anger sparks sharply inside him again, and Ford grasps at it like a lifeline, willing to bloody his hands for that bite of stability. 

"You tried to burn it! My life's work! And you only decided you would help me after we--"

Stan cuts him off, looking towards the cabinets while he raises his voice and waves his hands. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry about the fucking lighter, all right?!"

Ford frowns. He takes a step forward and, still without looking at him, Stan takes a step back. It's the elevator all over again, but this time Ford is pressing in, backing Stan into the cabinets. He grabs the counter on either side of his hips when he tries to side step him again. 

"Stanley, look at me," he demands, frowning harder when Stan sets his jaw and stars determinedly at his shoulder. "Stanley--"

"What do you want, Ford? Just...just fucking tell me and I'll leave, all right?" Stan says, his voice tired and soft as he reaches up to rub a hand over his own face.

He wants a lot, honestly. And hasn't that always been the problem? He's always wanted -- to be normal, to be respected, to be the best, to be special. 

To be wanted. 

To be enough.

To fix things. 

"You," he realizes, watching Stan jerk his head up. His lashes are still wet, and Ford can't stop himself from reaching up and pressing his palm to Stan's cheek, skimming his thumb gently under one of his eyes. 

When he leans in to kiss him again, Stan makes a small, wounded little noise under his mouth, but he parts his lips for Ford's tongue this time. Stan's lips are chapped and he tastes vaguely of stale cigarettes, but Ford is still struck by how soft and sweet he is. 

More than anything else that had happened that evening, this is the moment that Ford knows he should suspect most of all. The way Stan relaxes between him and the counter, the almost tentative way he lifts his tongue to meet his, the careful fingertips touching the edge of Ford's coat and brushing against his loose tie. It's tender in a way Ford didn't think either of them were capable of, and it should be setting off warning bells and red flags in every part of his mind. 

It isn't. 

Ford is more certain of  the reality of this single moment, the gentle slip of Stan's lips against his own, than he's been of anything in a long time. 

And then Stan sighs between them and murmurs, warm and hopeful, "Ford," against his lips, and he's done for. 

It doesn't matter that they just fucked, that Ford's come is probably still drying between Stan's thighs -- he can't keep his hands off of him. Ford is suddenly frantic and desperate in a way that he hadn't been downstairs. He needs to relearn the new, wider shape of Stan's shoulders and pecs. He needs to feel out every new scar and take stock of all the old ones he remembers Stan collecting for him as kids. He needs to be surrounded by him again, soaking in the warmth of him. 

Ford doesn't deserve absolution, but he thinks he may be able to find something close to it in the low, shaky way Stan moans his name. 

And there's familiarity in the way Stan grabs at him in turn, tugging at his jacket and tie and surging into another, harder kiss. Ford thinks he may not be the only one looking for expiation. 

Then Stan drops to his knees between him and the cabinet, and Ford stops thinking so much. His cock is still out, and Stan wastes no time in getting his fist around the shaft and his lips around the head. He suckles and swirls his tongue, and Ford shoves the beanie off of his head to get his hands in his hair. 

"Stanley," he gasps, stroking his fingers along his scalp and fisting the strands between them. 

Stan moans around him and shuffles closer, sliding the seal of his lips further down the length of Ford's cock. All he can do is groan and try to keep from rocking his hips as more of him is greeted by the warmth of his mouth and the wickedness of his tongue. 

He keeps waiting for Stan to reach his limit, to back off and give himself room to breathe. He doesn't. He keeps leaning in, keeps taking him, and then Ford feels his cockhead slip into Stan's throat, sees his lashes are wet again, and he has to put one hand on the counter to keep himself steady. "Fuck, Stanley, you're so good at this."

Stan makes a horribly sweet sound around the girth of Ford's cock and reaches up to hold his hips as he swallows, and Ford is suddenly afraid he's going to embarass himself.  His hips twitch despite his best efforts to keep them still, but Stan simply relaxes his jaw and his throat and tugs a little to encourage him to do it again. He does, of course, how could he not? 

Despite the heat clawing its way through him and the pleasure mounting dangerously high, Ford almost feels outside of himself again. The picture Stan makes, with his eyes damp and heavy lidded, his lips wet and stretched around Ford's cock, his hair fisted in Ford's fingers and his own clinging to Ford's hips -- it's lewd, debauched, and so horribly sweet that it makes Ford's chest hurt. 

Stan gasps raggedly when Ford pulls him off. "I was go-gonna...I mean you can--"

Ford kneels down to kiss him, tasting stale cigarettes and himself, cock throbbing over the rough state of Stan's voice. "Not done yet," he manages, before tugging Stan onto his feet. 

They lose clothes and time on the journey upstairs, tripping over the steps and Ford's discarded pants, and stumbling into his wreck of a room. If Stan notices the state of things, he doesn't comment, mouth latched onto Ford's shoulder and hands all over his back and hips. 

The back of Ford's legs hit the bed and he sits hard on the mattress. Stan doesn't hesitate to crawl up into his lap. He'd lost his boots in the kitchen and his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way to the stairs, giving him ample opportunity to rub his bare cock against Ford's. 

Cursing, Ford rolls his hips and only belatedly remembers to reach up and tug the hideous red coat off of Stan's shoulders. 

"Oh, fuck, hold on. I think I have another one," Stan says, panting softly as he digs into the pockets of his coat. Ford takes the opportunity to run his hands across Stan's thighs and ass, squeezing whatever skin he can until Stan makes a triumphant sound and pulls another little packet of lube free. 

Only then does he let Ford toss his jacket aside and tug him further up the bed with him. He doesn't protest when Ford takes the packet from him, lowering his head to work open mouth kisses up Ford's throat instead, and he rolls his hips distractingly while Ford fights to get the damnable thing open. He ignores the snickering against his skin in the process. 

It stops anyway, hitching into something warm and startled when Ford sinks two slick fingers into him. 

"Oh, fuck," Stan breaths, reaching up to grab Ford by the shoulder, holding himself steady. "Y-You know you don't have to do that, right? Pretty loosened up already."

He is, to be fair. His hole is still soft and loose and fucked open. But Ford enjoys petting his fingers against the tender muscle and stroking them inside anyway. He likes watching Stan bite his lip and push himself back onto his hand. When he slides a third in after the first two, Stan's thighs tremble on either side of his own, and he makes a low, throaty sound. 

When Ford curls his fingers just right, Stan yells and grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and it makes warm satisfaction curl in his middle. So he does it a few more times, alternating between spreading his fingers and rubbing the tips against Stan's prostate until he's squirming in his lap. 

"I-I'm gonna come if you don't knock that sh-shit off," he gasps, slumping a bit when Ford chuckles and slides his fingers out. 

"I think I'd like that," Ford says, squeezing his slick fingers against Stan's thigh. 

He snorts and straightens back up, finding the discarded lube packet to squirt the remainder onto Ford's cock. "Yeah, I bet you fucking would," Stan agrees, but there's no malice in his voice, just warm amusement. 

His fist is warm and wonderful when it curls around Ford's cock, spreading lube, and then Ford is being held steady, Stan adjusts himself on his scuffed knees, and there's nothing else to do but hold on as Stan lowers himself into his lap. 

It feels as good as it had earlier to be inside of him, and Ford squeezes the thigh under his hand tightly, fighting against the need to buck his hips. Stan is panting softly, his head tilted back and a pretty, pink color is crawling up from under his t-shirt to flood his neck and face. 

Ford groans and leans forward, finding a nipple through his thin shirt to get his teeth and tongue against.

"F-Ford!" Stan gasps, fumbling the hand not clawing at his shoulder up into his hair, and Ford sucks hard on the firm nub,  rubbing spit-soaked cotton against it with his tongue until Stan rocks in his lap. 

Fuck, he likes that, the way his name sounds in Stan's voice, especially warm and rough after fucking his throat earlier. 

He squeezes Stan's thigh and his hip, giving him a little tug, and that's all the encouragement Stan needs before he's bouncing on his cock. Ford has that thought again -- that Stan was meant to be filled by him, that they're a perfectly matched set. But it isn't just feeling good and hot while Stan fucks himself in his lap. It's feeling like he's been missing something and he finally has it, like he's finally complete again. 

He's missed this, Ford realizes. 

Not the fucking his brother part. He'd fantasized about that for years but it still feels like a dream that it's happening, like something that's too good to be true. 

But being able to put his arms around him? To be this close to him again? 

Ford rocks his hips up, hard, and Stan says his name. He wraps his fingers around Stan's cock, and he gasps his name. He bites the same swollen, pink nipple through his shirt, and Stan shouts his name. 

He snaps his hips up to meet him a few more times and rubs the sensitive glans under the head of Stan's cock, and then there are teeth digging into his other shoulder and his fist and stomach are being striped in Stan's come while he shudders and jerks overtop of him. 

Stan goes easily when Ford rolls them over and pins one of his wrists to the bed. And despite the way he squirms and how his spent cock twitches and leaks, blatantly overstimulated, he hooks his ankles behind Ford's back and urges him on. 

"C-C'mon, give it to me. Fuck, just like that, Sixer!" 

The nickname hits him with all the subtlety of a truck and all the heat of a volcanic eruption. 

He doesn't even remember coming so much as he remembers every synapses in his brain trying to fire at once. Coming back down to reality is a little clearer, with his head spinning and pulse racing as he flops onto his back, but it still takes several long minutes before he feels fully cognizant again. 

Something makes the bed shift, and he looks over to see that Stan has rolled onto his stomach. Ford wonders if he looks half as fucked out as Stan does, with bruises blossoming across his body, his shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, and come staining his ass and thighs. Ford realizes Stan still has his socks on, and he can't figure out why that makes something twinge, hot but exhausted and halfhearted, in his gut. 

"Gonna...gonna get up in a minute," Stan says, his voice slurring and his eyes already closed. Ford watches him rub his cheek against one of Ford's pillows, and the soft sound of snoring follows soon after. 

The reality of the situation starts to settle in shortly after that, and Ford stares wide eyed up at the ceiling as if he'll find some sort of answers there. Unsurprisingly, there are no secrets etched overhead for how to reckon with the fact that he had just fucked his brother, twice, while the fate of the world was still very much hanging in the balance between his fraying sanity and Bill's looming threat. 

".....Fuck," Ford murmurs.

When the adrenaline finishes seeping out of his system, Ford expects to crash. The exhaustion certainly climbs back into his bones, but he's surprised to find himself still clear headed. Focused. 

The sound of Stan sleeping soundly beside him is as soothing as it is mocking, but he doesn't want to separate himself from it even though he knows he needs to get up. There's soft, gray light starting to creep in through the windows, and distant birdsong calling for the start of the day. He needs to readjust, to come up with a new plan, find some way to explain to Stan what's going on so they can buy themselves a little more time. 

Against all odds and his better judgment, there's a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his head reminding him that there's strength in numbers. He isn't surprised that it sounds like Stan.

[jweekgoji]

hello, you can resquest scenery, TFO Orion Pax, D-16, B-127 and Sentinel wait for their Conjux femme reader to give birth to their Sparkling. (about the others except Sentinel, where they go to the surface and return to Iacon and it would be that they meet their newborn Sparkling)

TFO Chars/Pregnant!Femme!Reader [hcs]

featuring: Orion Pax, D-16, B-127, Sentinel Prime tw: pregnancy, very brief mentions of violence, slighty yandere!Megs by the end, mixture of fluff/angst. word count: ~1940 a/n: I hope I understood your request well. Feel free to correct me if I did something wrong so I can remake it.

Orion Pax.

I feel like Orion (cogless, since it's before they went to the surface) is probably that typical young dad that has no idea how to take care of a child and might as well set on fire the kitchen in attempts to warm the bottle of energon for the sparkling.

But! He is very enthusiastic about it, and he supports you in every way he can; it's just that he lacks any real experience with it. Reading in the archives about sparklings, pregnancy and how to be a good mentor is easy; the hardest thing is to actually deal with it.

There is a big possibility that you are also cogless like him, and I'm not sure Sentinel actually cares about poor pregnant miners to give them at least a one-day off. Your supervisors would constantly remind you to continue working, since there's always a big need for energon.

Orion often picks up fights because of it. Can't those big bullies see that you're sparked? You need rest and good care, not lifting heavy equipment...As usual, he gets scolded by Elita for not doing his job properly, but he makes sure that he helps you with everything. You can rest during your shift, while Orion is happily working for both of you, so you won't be reported to the higher-ups. It's a little hard, but there is nothing he wouldn't do for you.

Following my last statement and the previous headcanons, Orion desperately wants the best future for all Cybertronians. He hates the thought that his sparkling will grow up in the same place as him. No actual home, no equality, only hatred from the others. That's when he sees the opportunity to change the future, he grasps onto it.

It pains Orion to leave you in Iacon. It wasn't really his fault, though. He would have come back to you after the Iacon 5000 race immediately if it wasn't for Darkwing throwing him on sublevel 50, and the next events after that...

Orion gains the maturity he lacked, and with realization of his other past mistakes, he also understands how careless he was before. You're probably scared to death without him; he left you without a word, and now you have to only guess where your conjunx is. How stressed you will be after someone tells you that he's dead.

Just as much as it scares him and makes him angry at himself, it also motivates him for more. No matter what, he will come back to you.

The moment he sees you, he is relieved. The reunion looks awkward, his form towering over your smaller one, but that doesn't bother either of you. When he finally meets the sparkling, his own little spark, all the pain from the last battle is gone.

Orion swears to you that he will never leave you alone after today; with a new spark born in this world, there is a hope. How meaningful it is for his own child to be born the day the Iacon becomes free.

D-16

Just like Orion, D-16 has a little to no idea how to take care of the sparkling. If his best friend will be so happy to be a sire, D-16 has mixed emotions about this.

Don't get me wrong, he is excited about it just like you, but D-16 is the bot who is reluctant when it comes to going against the rules. He is not sure if this is actually the right place and time for the sparkling to be born now. Both of you are cogless, and there is no great future for you. Maybe after countless cycles ago he can get a higher position, a bit better life, but will it be enough to raise someone so young?

Even then, he shows you that he is happy. He doesn't want you to think that he hates the idea just because he's not so sure about your current life.

D-16 is a naturally strong bot, probably one of the strongest when compared to other miners. He gets extra affectionate with his conjunx, holding you close and maybe even carrying you around if you show him the tiniest sign that you're tired. He is really sweet.

As Orion drags him into the race, he begins to slowly lose his cool. His outburst in the cave after finding out about the truth is even stronger. The betrayal, pain, the sick feeling of worry about you and his sparkling. If only Orion didn't drag him into that damn race, he would have been with you, making sure that you're safe, none of that would have happened.

The frustration boils over with each step he makes. He needs to come back to Iacon, to you, but first, he has to get rid of the one who caused the cycles of pain and humiliation.

 The time D-16 gets his servos on Sentinel, ripping him apart in front of anyone, he thinks it is the only way to solve everything. Only he can fix it, and only he can trust himself with protecting you.

You weren't there to see him deal with Sentinel, thankfully. It is for the best to avoid all the stress it could have caused if you saw him. Your dear conjunx is seething with hatred. Sentinel took many things from him; he wasn't even able to be there with you when your sparkling was born. D-16 Megatron will cherish both of you forever, and he will make sure to raise his little one as strong as him, so they won't live through the same events as D-16 was.

B-127

Oh, this one is a little too sad to speculate. Let's say, both of you are cogless but met each other a long time ago before you two ended up on sublevel 50. The moment you two failed to please the higher-ups and also the moment you find out that you're sparked up. What bad timing!

B-127 seems to be more happy than you are when he realizes that he is going to be a sire. A little too happy. Even though he doesn't fully understand it. You might go like, “You're going to be a sire, Bee” and then he hits you with, “I am sparked up??” which is kind of funny. Is that really your man?

Out of other bots, I can see  being the best sire ever. Of course, he gets a little confused, but who wouldn't be if they dealt with their first child? You try to explain to him everything you know about the topic, and he quickly catches up on it.

B-127 is already thinking about the names. Does Badasstron Junior sound like a good name for sparkling? Or maybe he should practice combining your names together? Anyway, it really helps him not to get insane down here. Having you around is good for Bee's mental health, though you're not so sure how much time passed since you were demoted.

Even then, Bee shows his caring side. He does get serious when the situation really needs it, so he is constantly tied to your hip because he wants you and the sparkling to be safe. The conditions are not great, but he makes the best of it. No matter how bad it gets, he always makes you smile, even though sometimes he has no strength to keep his cheerfulness.

Bee is happy to have more new friends and to partake in the journey of finding the matrix of leadership, but he doesn't want you to get hurt. That's why (with tears in his optics) you two agree that you should stay. But hey, it will probably not take too much time. He will come back with his new friends to Iacon with the matrix; the energon will flow again, so there's no need for you to stay!

Bee doesn't stop yapping about the fact that he is going to be a sire to Elita. This fella just likes to talk and when he sees the opportunity, he doesn't miss it! Poor Elita has to listen to him how hard it is to choose the name for the baby, or how he is going to be the best sire ever once the group comes back. Ohh, did you know that he also really-really loves you? And his sparkling? Elita barely handles him, but even though she never met you, she knows everything about you.

After Bee comes back to Iacon, he almost faints. First he got a cog, then met the high guard, got a job with the government, AND became a sire? When he sees his sparkling, he feels a little sad that he wasn't there with you, but he will compensate it in no time. Every little move your sparkling makes is cheered by,  and Primus have mercy on the poor bots around him. He is probably that dad who will show you the pictures of his kids...

Sentinel Prime

Being a conjunx of Sentinel has its own perks. Lucky you, no work for you! It will be too bad if you get sparked up and cogless, huh?

Sentinel is a busy bot. There is always work waiting for him, especially the oh so important ‘‘searching for matrix of leadership’ thing. Even then, when he is in Iacon, there are lots of paper jobs and meetings  being here and there since everything should be personally controlled by him.

One of the cons while being sparked up and being conjunx of Sentinel is that he doesn't have much time for you. By the end of the day, he always comes back to your quarters, but it's just so lonely without him! You're always surrounded by the guards, the medics, but they can never replace the presence of your loved one.

All the changes in your body don't help at all, the mood swings, the certain energon cravings in the middle of the night, so-so hard to deal with, but he's a Prime, after all, so that shouldn't trouble him that much...

Sentinel might be a little irritated with it. When you wake him up, just to ask for something Primus-knows-what-next, that will probably take hours to search for, but he has no strength to deny you. If his conjunx wants it, he gets it!

I like to think that Sentinel is probably always aware of your and sparkling's health, but in a slightly concerning way. Yes, he can miss one or two meetings at the doctor's with you, but that doesn't mean he is ignorant. Everything is reported straight to him, so if anything, he will drop his work and join you. There is also a looong track of every checkup you had, and he has a timer that counts seconds to when the sparkling is born.

Imagine how annoyed Sentinel is when he gets humiliated by the quintessons and misses the birth of his sparkling? He practically scowls when someone reports him about it and totally has to restrain himself from strangling someone on his way to Iacon, but he manages it somehow.

Sentinel's mood quickly replaced with warmth for you and the sparkling, even though inside his head, he is still annoyed. How could he miss it? When he planned everything to the last second? The one thing that keeps his mind occupied is the little one he has in his servos. He's not going to leave you two again. At least, when he still can.

[dog-bimbo]

shiu kong x fem!reader 18+ only — imagining shiu being put on a sex ban or something like that mfgghhmmfmh >////<

minors and ageless blogs dni !

a/n i love writing shiu being sleazy but im going through something rough as of late so i made it a bit fluffy, just a little though he's still a bastard in this fic <3

he hates his clients, he hates the assassins that he brokers, he hates the clean up crew and most importantly, he hates condoms. what he doesn't hate is having his balls deep in you after a long day even thinking about your gummy, wet walls has him leaking cum through his boxers. a sex ban right in the middle of his commision is just cruel...

"i'm on birth control," you meekly reply. you're usually quite open with him, he's a great guy to be around but right now? his head is practically exploding you've never seen him be THIS devastated by something... but he quickly masks it after swallowing a lump in his throat. "two weeks, i can do that." he replies with a shrug. "you can just wear a condom if you're that bothered, y'know?..." but that's the last option for him, his final resort.

the first week was hard on him. it felt like the client and the assassin wanted him dead instead of the target—this feeling really was an exaggeration (atleast to some extent) being blue balled is what really drove him crazy. he always reeks of cigarettes, for sure, but it has definitely gotten worse... with that pretty pastel blue sundress of yours, how could he not bend you over the counter and hump you in broad daylight? when you're sitting on his lap while watching a show that you both love, how could he keep his hands away from stroking your clit through your panties with his thumb? when you're reapplying your lipgloss while you're on a date with him, how could he stop himself from pulling you to his car to make you kiss his cock? restraining seemed unnecessary in these areas yet, it seems like he's taking this as a challenge of sorts... it's strangely uncharacteristic of him since he's a no BS kind of guy.

he's not a sex addict trying to recover, he's just a bit ashamed that he's thinking about nothing but sex with you out of all people. you're an absolute delight to be around, all lovely and soft and dreamlike. he never allows himself to loosen up but with you, it's quite natural for him to relax. you're more than just a one night stand—you're the light of his life. also, that condom remark felt a bit patronizing. it was like you were throwing him a bone out of pity.

him having bad days meant that you'd be put in a mating press. he could feel his stress melting away as he buried himself deeper and deeper in you with each thrust but now? he's found better ways to cope with it. all you wanted for him is to be less reserved but when he's that exhausted after sex, you don't get much out of him. he's talking a whole lot now— about the clients, about the assassins, about the stupid dinner meetings and the clean ups and the indepth reason why he left law enforcement.

the second week was considerably simpler for him. first of all, the ashtrays in your shared apartment was no longer overflowing with cigarette buds, and shiu no longer wanted to kick the client's teeth down his throat each time he opened his mouth.

but it's you who's going crazy now. he's such a gentleman, a master at being dominant and assertive even while he's not doing anything sexual. everytime his huge hand rests on your waist, hip or thigh, you want him to bunch up your skirt and pound into you already. he's all man—the scent of marlboro reds and cologne drove you insane. you wanted him to press his huge body against yours already... your slit weeps for him and he's just so, so good at licking it all up—he gets high off the sweetness of your cunt. when he lifts his head up after eating you out and making you cum on his face, his pussy drunk expression is everything.

he's also good at noticing things and he knows that at the end, you're the one who's all needy and desperate.

he wraps his hands around your waist as he kisses you. it wasn't sweet, it was rough and hot and you could feel his hands going down to reach the hem of your skirt. he was stingy with the people he tolerated and extremely generous with you—you're his sweetheart after all. it's happening... maybe he's gonna give up on this little abstaining phase of his.... but he pulls away, "just wait for three more days n' i'll fuck you till your brain melts out of your ears, yeah?" he's got that shit-eating grin when he lets go of you.

you're no saint—you're just as desperate for him as he is for you and he wants you to know that.

[ode-to-fury]

Dance With Me

Pairing: Lucanis x Rook

Summary: Scene after the Illario fight, but the way I would have written it. It's not that deep or different, but I think it's better. My Rook but mostly I wasn't specific.

Disclaimer: Whoo first Lucanis fic! I'm still trying to find the DA companions' voices so you might have to bear with me a little bit. This has been in my brain since the MOMENT he said "I have other plans for the evening". I tried to make him that weird mix of awkward and smooth so lmk if I did that or if I need to work on it. Might come back and edit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You came back here just for coffee?"

Rook's voice startled him out of his thoughts.

When he looked up at her, his heart gave a lurch, the same lurch it had given every other time he'd laid eyes on her.

Her hair was damp and sligtly wavy from her bath, still, and she wore leather trousers and a shirt. It was difficult to see in the dim firelight, but he knew the blue of the shirt would be reflected in her eyes, twinkling above the bemused grin she was giving him.

"What, the stuff in that gigantic villa wasn't good enough for you?"

She folded her arms across her chest, eyebrows raised and dimples clearly visible as she grinned down at him. Mercifully, Spite was being quiet for once. He idly wondered if demons ever got tired, or overwhelmed after a long day. Something to ask Emmrich about, perhaps.

"It's better if I make it myself," he said, not quite managing to smile back at her, despite the lightness that smile brought to his chest.

"And besides, I wanted some quiet."

He hated that her smile melted slightly, her shoulders tightening ever so slightly. He doubted anyone else would have noticed, but he did.

"So," she said, "First Talon?"

"First Talon," he said, and if he was honest with himself, it did not fit right in his mouth.

"I still cannot believe Caterina did that."

Lucanis is the new First Talon. His decision stands.

The corner of her mouth lifted slightly, but her fingers tensed where they rested on her arm.

"Does that mean you're leaving?"

Ah.

He almost grinned.

"No," he said simply. "We have a contract. Besides, Caterina might have named me First Talon, but there's no stopping her from giving all the orders."

This time her smile was wider, and she tilted her head to the side so her hair shifted, glinting golden in the firelight. He ached to run his fingers through it.

"You know," she said, her eyes twinkling with laughter again, "You could have said, 'Of course not. I would never leave with you still here.'

Her Antivan accent was good. Too good. It made his chest feel tight whenever she pretended to be him. He grinned back at her despite himself.

"I would never leave with you still here," he said. "You'll have me for as long as I can put off the Crows."

He saw her brow furrow slightly, but she hid it quickly.

Before he could let his nerves interfere, he stood up, setting his half empty cup down on the table as he did.

"I may have had another reason for leaving the party early," he said, letting his voice drop slightly. He saw her eyes narrow, but then she gave him a crooked grin.

"Besides coffee, you mean?"

He walked past her, to the open space between the dining table and the door, and held out his hand to her.

"Dance with me," he said softly.

It was the first time he'd seen her truly taken aback. To his delight, her mouth even dropped slightly open.

"Dance with you?" She asked, as if he'd just asked her to jump into the Fade.

"What?" He asked.

"There's no music. Also, I told you," she said, shoulders tensing again, "I'm a terrible dancer."

She had. Technically she'd told all of them.

You'd have to get me drunk first, I'm afraid, it's mortifying otherwise. I got told I have about four left feet.

"You did," he said, still holding out his hand. "But you also said you loved to dance."

She tilted her head to the side, almost pleading.

"It's only me," he said softly.

"That's what's worrying me," she said, almost too quiet for him to hear, and he remembered that this was as new to her as it was to him.

What would a first kiss taste like?

Like hope.

She held back for a moment longer, then hesitantly, she placed her fingers in his hand.

They were warm, and her callouses scraped against his own as she allowed him to pull her close to him. His heart thumped in his chest, as if it was trying to get to her.

"I don't know how to do this," she said, and he knew she wasn't only talking about the dancing.

"Like this," he said, curling his left hand around her right, and placing the other one on his shoulder.

"Your elbow has to stay up," he said seriously, lifting said elbow so it was almost in line with her shoulder before dropping his hand to her waist. "Caterina would smack me with a cane if I got it wrong."

"If you try and smack me with a cane..." she started, leaving the threat unfinished.

"I couldn't find one," he said. She tried to hide a grin, but her dimples gave her away, and suddenly those hours with Caterina and her cane seemed worth it to him.

"Now," he said, "step back with your right foot."

She did, looking at her feet, and he followed, relishing the warmth of her hand on his shoulder, the way his hand fit perfectly on her waist.

"Back and to the left with the other."

She did so, and he followed.

"Now bring your feet together, and do the same with the other foot."

They went slowly, and he enjoyed watching the crease between her eyebrows as she concentrated.

Gently, he let go of her waist so he could tilt her face up to his own.

"You should look your partner in the eyes," he said, aware that his voice had dropped lower, but not really caring, "Not where you are going to step."

"And if I step wrong?" She asked, her voice slightly breathy. It felt like soft fingers tracing their way down his spine.

"Trust me to guide you," he replied, his hand going back to her waist.

The corner of her mouth curled up ever so slightly.

"Alright," she said. "I trust you."

As they moved slowly through the room, the firelight caught her eyes and hair, gilding her in gold and taking his breath from him. In fact, breathing felt suddenly like a very big effort.

"What is it?" She asked quietly, almost as if she was scared he would run if she spoke too loudly. He wasn't too certain he wouldn't.

"You are so beautiful," he said, before he could think about it too much, though his voice was markedly less smooth than it had been.

Her eyes, her beautiful, sparkling eyes, widened slightly.

"Really?" She asked.

"Would I ever lie to you?"

She smiled. It was small and soft this time.

"No one's ever called me that before," she whispered.

"Good," he managed to whisper back. "I would have to kill them."

And she laughed. By the blood of the Maker, she laughed and every terrible moment up until just then seemed as though it had a purpose.

"There's that smile," he said, when her laughter died down.

"Your's too," she replied, still grinning happily at him.

"Thank you, Rook," he found himself saying.

"You don't need to thank me."

She leaned in slightly, mischief in her eyes.

"For you, it's on the house."

His stomach tightened slightly when she did the accent, but he tried his best to ignore it.

"Did Illario hurt you?" He asked. "I'll skin him if he did."

She touched the scratch on her neck from Illario's, thankfully unpoisoned, blade.

"A scratch," she said dissmissively. "He hurt my pride more than anything else."

They moved for a few seconds in silence while he waited for her to ask the obvious next question.

"Do you regret..."

"Giving him a chance?"

He'd been thinking about it since they had left Villa Dellamorte.

Didn't you tell me he was basically your brother and your closest childhood friend?

"No," he said. "You were right. He's family."

Family. The word tasted sour in his mouth.

"I didn't even suspect him," he said. "When the Venatori caught me on the boat in Tevinter, it never even crossed my mind."

Almost without meaning to, he brought her right hand to his heart, his fingers tightening over hers. She lay her head on his shoulder as he pulled her closer, a solid weight against him. A comfort, for the first time in his life.

"He's better than I thought," he said, absently resting his cheek against her head. Her hair smelled of lightning, and a faint, almost unnoticeable trace of honey. "Maybe there is hope for him yet."

She snorted a soft laugh through her nose, making him grin. It vanished quickly, though.

"But this wasn't a mercy. Being watched by all the Crows, with their knives out? He will never live down being the Traitor Crow, brought down in front of everyone. There is nowhere he can run."

"I was surprised you listened to me," she said. He felt her breath tickle his neck, involuntarily clutched her closer against him.

"So was I," he said. "But... I don't have a lot to lose. What there is... Caterina, this team... you, even my idiot cousin. I'm not giving that up."

She stopped moving, lifting her head up to look at him. She wore the softest smile he'd ever seen on her face.

"What's that look?"

"You have a big heart," she said softly, "For an assassin."

He tried to look away at the tone of her voice, at the emotion in it, but she gently turned his face toward her again.

"That's not a bad thing," she said.

"If it brought me here," he said, taking her hand again and kissing it on a whim, "To this moment with you, then it cannot be a bad thing. I just... I cannot believe he would do all of this, only to be First Talon."

She frowned up at him.

"He said you didn't want to be First Talon."

"I don't. But how am I supposed to trust him with it now? How is anyone? The funny thing is, he might have finally proven he has the abillity for it."

"Right before getting humilliated in front of everyone," she said, grinning slightly.

"Exactly."

He sighed, though it came out as more of a frustrated growl.

"Fucking Illario."

"Hey," she said, gently reaching up and smoothing out the crease between his brows. The gesture made his chest ache.

"We'll work it out," she said softly. "Together. But for now... "

He took her hand again, holding it to his chest so she could feel his heartbeat.

"Just be here with me," she said. "Just for a little while."

"I can do that," he said. "For a little while."

She smiled, and he could see the day was starting to get to her, the tiredness starting to reach her eyes.

"Rook..." he started, not sure what he was going to say, but needing to say something before his chest caved in on itsself. She cut him off before he could.

"Shhhh," she said gently, kissing him for a long moment before laying her head back on his shoulder. He forgot, sometimes, that he could kiss her. Usually, Spite was there to remind him, with enthusiasm. It scared him, how much he ached to feel her lips against his own.

"Don't ruin it."

So he held her close, and kissed her forehead, and later he let her fall asleep on his lap in the chair, savouring the way she held on to his hand even in sleep, and finally letting his fingers run through her hair, softer than silk against his skin.

[thatnonameuser]

You said something about Azul's darling having children healing his childhood trauma. ANGST WARNING!! AND BULLYING!

This gave me an idea, he was bullied for being slow and different from other kids from the original plot. In this yandere au, that can be twisted into how he's such a loser, he'll probably never be good enough for a darling to accept him. He's so fat, not even a kind and pitiful darling, would want him. How the other mers think he's so stupid that he'd fumble trying to catch his darling and that they'll just be claimed by another, cooler, yandere. Laughing at him all the while so and flexing how their wonderful talents and skills would be enough to steal away a darling's heart, unlike him.

I can imagine how much this'll break his self esteem and brand him as a "weak yandere" to the other fishies. Azul would strive to be the opposite of all this, he would plan to take away their special abilities to "win a darling over" and make it his own, as his unique magic forms through sheer spite. He's so jaded and the thoughts of not being good enough to have a darling still ingrained in him. He probably won't fall in love with MC until after his overblot. Having the internal belief that, no darling would want a loser like him.. He probably won't care that MC is a darling at first and is just planning to use her as leverage against the other yanderes. Hence, taking over her only place to live. It benefits him as well since he'll be able to open another branch of the Mostro lounge and attract the other yanderes.

But then something changes. MC does something while they are inside the blot space. He realizes that.. she sees more in him than anyone ever had. Even if MC says so only in passing cause she's reasonably pissed- He can't help but focus on those specific words, ignoring the rest of her rant. Suddenly, he feels whole, and he knows she doesn't want to share this feeling with anyone. Suddenly...

He's already drafting a contract after their visit in the coral sea museum, giggling to himself as he marks that day their first date....

I hope you find this idea as interesting as I did!! I love Azul 😁

I really love asks for the yandereverse, because there are so many ways that the charas’ backstories can change. Azul’s bullying making him insecure when it comes to his darling is perfect, and it kind of works with how the Coral Sea sees yanderes and darlings. I also love Azul, I love me an evil mafia man.

The Coral Sea is an anti-darling rights area, so yanderes have more freedom to do what they want in order to take their darlings for themselves. And yanderes are supposed to be strong and tough, how else do they keep their darlings safe and with them? The kids of the Coral Sea know that well. 

And Azul wasn’t that. He was slow, and weak and a scaredy-catfish crybaby who hid inside a pot. HE was supposed to be a yandere? That was genuinely surprising to nearly all his former classmates. And they made sure he knew that. Their teasing was relentless….

‘Are you sure they weren’t wrong? You’re not supposed to be slow and stupid if you’re like us.’

‘He’ll probably lose his darling.’

‘I’d hate to be them, he’s so fat and icky.’

….And at the same time they rub salt into the wound. After all, they’re fast and strong and smart and talented and good looking. They’ll get their darlings no problem, while he will be left alone and broken hearted watching his darling being with someone else. All the bullying broke him down over a while, he started to think it was right. 

But despite all the bullying, Azul still tries his hardest to stop being the weak yandere his peers deemed him as. And in a form of vengeance, he’ll take away the special abilities they shoved in his face to remind him how inferior he was, After all, the yanderes that bullied him have their own insecurities that they want to hide from their darlings, so he’ll take their very best away to make himself better for his future darling. He’ll make himself better so that whoever he falls for won’t have to be disgusted by him. (While making his bullies as disgusting to their darlings as they said he’d be .)

But… He just can’t forget the years of bullying ingrained into him. What darling would want him? What darling would love him when he’s just a dim-witted octopus? That denial blinds him up till when he finally meets you. 

Once he’s aware of you being a darling he sees the opportunity, not love. (Because he doesn’t deserve you, so why bother?). After all, what would all your yanderes do or pay to have you for themselves? No price is too high when it comes to a darling, and so, getting you under his thumb is his first priority. Getting you out of Ramshackle and under his control/ownership will make this so much easier. But there’s one big problem. 

You won’t sign his contracts. You told him you’d rather never go home than sign one. I imagine after that point, he starts trying to find loopholes to get you to sign. And your friends are his best bet. So he tricks Ace, Deuce and Grim into being indebted to him, so that you’ll feel obligated to help them. But that didn’t work, because (to be honest, you’re grateful for the alone time) you just let them be stuck in a contract with him. Fortunately, Crowley got involved and you had to go into a contract with him. 

But unfortunately, instead of accepting his offer to stay at Octavinelle till the time limit was up, you proceeded to stay over in Savanaclaw. He’d never been more angry before in his life. The idea of you sleeping with and doing seven-only-knows with those beasts never made him more jealous. The smell of Leona Kingscholar on your skin made him want to add onto the debt the prince owed in vengeance. 

But not wanting to spoil anything more, in the blot space your attempts to pull him out of his self-loathing, change him. He sees that you care about him, that you don’t think he’s a not a stupid, ugly octopus and that instead you see him as something more. Someone who’s hardworking, intelligent, and even cute. And that moment, he truly realizes his love for you. You’re not like the others, you see something in him that no one ever had before. He doesn’t get that you’re saying it only for the sake of your, and maybe a little of his, life. Those words echo in his head. You love him, all his bullies were wrong, his darling isn’t disgusted by him. He feels whole….

…..And he doesn’t want to share this feeling. This complete joy.

He needs you to be his. He’ll draft another contract, one intended to make sure no one else will ever be able to steal you from him and ensure you’ll be by his side, on the land and in the sea. The museum will be like a date to him, hearing your kind words about his childhood appearance makes that younger self cry with joy.

You, quite literally, became the center of his world. And he intends to hold that same place as he becomes a part of your world. Whether you like it or not.

[artist-issues]

I think…I don’t know, the context of these three screenshots are kind of wonky.

Midwest Indigo - He’s home and he wants to be there and wants something to be happening, but instead it’s hard to be home. Kind of like how, in freezing cold Ohio after a long bleak winter, the sunshine should probably be a welcome thing—but instead it’s uncomfortably bright. And they’re on a frozen lake—if the sun thaws it out, that’s going to be even more uncomfortable.

Snap Back - He’s in a garage where he’s been alone, pondering the space between losing-progress and a fresh-start (which is what shaving your head looks like) and then he’s not alone anymore—someone is coming into the garage. They’re going to see what he’s done to his hair, and, whether for bad or good, they’re ending that moment he was having, where he pondered it all. The moment is over when the lights come in. Plus, the lights are bright in a way that looks like he’s exposed, like a convict caught in a spotlight or a naughty kid whose hiding spot has been found.

Next Semester - He was losing himself in the music, which is describing a moment—so again, lost in a moment. Then the lights are too bright and they remind him of another time when, lost in a dark moment, headlights brightly illuminated what he was doing. And almost ran him over. And he was kind of welcoming their approach because it meant he could get out of the life he was in, even if that would obviously hurt him. At least in Next Semester, the lights are followed by a voice telling him to get out of that dark moment, get out of harm’s way.

I guess the pattern is:

Miserable Moment Where You’re Stuck Thinking About Where You’ve Been vs. Where You Wanna Be -> Moment is Interrupted by Bright Lights, Which Are Uncomfortable Because They Expose You & Could Kill You -> Ultimately The Lights Are Good Because You Need to Get Out of That Miserable Moment Whether It’s Uncomfortable Or Not, & Lights Can Move You Forward

You can’t kill the Old You til the Old You is exposed. A fresh start doesn’t come from avoiding truth. Once it’s exposed by light, it can also be burned up by light—then, start fresh.

At the show I went to in Raleigh, Torchbearer kind of appeared out of nowhere (in character) and brought his torch to the B-Stage where Tyler had been singing nostalgic songs, and Tyler got into character, looking grim and interrupted and uncomfortable, and then Torchbearer (holding that natural light) gave Tyler the Clancy jacket and he put it on and they went to DEMA to fight.

So. You know. The light seems harsh and unavoidable and uncomfortable in each of these music videos, but I think it’s actually supposed to lead to something good, even if that good is currently seen in a feared and uneasy perspective.

“This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God.” (John 3:20-21)

After all, what is Blurryface? Insecurity. And insecurity is self-focus. And self-focus loves to over-analyze “Will I ever get this right or will I always fail.” That type of analysis is actually just pride, trying to “get better” in your own power. “Nobody needs to see how messed up I am, they just need to see me fix it.” Insecurity. But the Light exposes everything—how messed up you are, and how you need Help to fix it.

Maybe this is wishful thinking.

But please oh please if the Light is representative of God, I hope it shows Him off the right way.

“I can feel the light shine on my face”

[shapard]

Sweet Delusion🌙

Lucifer x fem!reader

Tw: Gore, Violence, self hatred, trauma, mother issues, burning

Y/n Can't catch a breath, poor thing only wanted to find out why Lu hate her so much.

Disease

Chapter 1 < Chapter 2 > Chapter 3

Story Begins under the cut

The ground was cold and hard. Your buzzing head was the only thing that kept you from screaming at the pain your body was in.

Plus, you couldn’t move. 

You were sure Valentino would've at least put you somewhere comfortable. But the other outcome wasn’t much of a surprise. 

You don’t trust anyone enough to ever do something to help you. 

No. 

Not even on living humans helped each other. So, who would even consider in hell?

Who’d help a pathetic thing like yourself. Drowning yourself in self pity, that’s how pathetic you were. A whine escaped your mouth and all you could feel was both the mental and physical pain.

The door creaked open, you only saw those leather heels and white fur legs that were similar to Angel. “Kitty!” 

Who was that again? Oh right, you. 

“What did Val do to you.” You winced as he picked you up from the ground, carrying you out of the club.

It was Indeed Angel.

Everything happened so quickly, in one moment you were walking beside Valentino and the next you were displayed on the cold ground.

Now you were carried by Angel who was running through the streets. What an outcome.

You tried to talk but just a groan came out, “Stay Awake! I’ll get you help!” Help? Why would he try to help you? You tried to stay awake, and it was getting harder every second. Soon even the voices muffled around you. 

No good sign. You were just so exhausted.

Angel was in full panic mode the moment he saw you laying motionless on the ground. What has Valentino done to you, that you blacked out that bad? Charlie and the others already left and he just wanted to see if you’re alright. 

He knows the best, that Valentino can be a lot. 

He burst into the hotel, screaming for help. Valentino could’ve poisoned you or worse, hurt you with angelic weapon. 

Angels scared shouting was alerting the whole hotel. Charlie found her way pretty fast to the spider. “What happened?!” Charlie crouched to get a better look at you. You were pale and your whole body was shaking. 

“She’ll be alright.” A Voice behind Charlie said, Lucifer. “You say that so easy, she’s shaking!” Angel scratched his scalp in stress. “She’s a Sinner, only Angelic power can really harm her.” He said calmly as he sipped from his tea. “What if she’s gotten hurt from angelic power?! What then?” Lucifer rolled his eyes, “She’s being dramatic. If it was angelic, I would’ve felt it. At least sensed it. But nope, nothing, nada.” 

Angel eyes twitched, “Dramatic?” Charlie was also looking in shock at her father. “Dad, she’s hurting. How could you say something like that?” This was very unusual for Lucifer. 

Normally he would’ve helped someone in need. Most especially when his daughter cared about the person. But every time your name fell or even you were near him or Charlie, he gets the ick. 

He couldn’t explain it himself. You were just so annoying. 

Just your present alone was already enough. He wanted to help his daughter, she was too nervous to ask you to stay in the hotel. 

So, he talked to you. 

The way you talked like your voice was silk was sickening. If you die right here right now, He wouldn’t care even one bit. 

Lucifer pointed towards your body, which was slowly going back into a normal state. “See, everything’s alright.” He spun around as he made his way towards his apartment. 

You really piss him off.

____

After that event, you stayed in the hotel for a while. 

Working wasn’t allowed so you chattered with the other’s, when they weren’t busy. Well, everyone except Lucifer. He’s been avoiding you much more lately. 

When you’d see him, he was glaring at you all the time. You don’t even understand why he was hating you now more than before. Did something happened? 

“I should talk to him, right?” You asked husk with your Mojito in your hand, “I don’t know, kid. He isn’t a fan of yours.” You chuckled, “Oh, really? I just want to live peaceful. If he doesn’t like me, I’d leave the hotel. Easy.” It could be so easy.

You sigh again, your glass clunked when you put it onto the wood. “I just want to know what I did wrong. I don’t like hurting others nor disturbing someone's peace.” Your hands moved up and down your arms, trying to comfort yourself. 

“And yet, you are still in Hell,” He sigh, “Do what you want kid, just be careful, kay.” You took a huge sip of the Alcohol, the burning sensation lets you forget the nervousness that raged in your stomach. When you finally had the courage, you started to make your way to Lucifer. 

The closer you get towards Lucifer's door, the slower your steps start to be. As the door was in sight, your heart started to pound louder and harder. “You can do this Y/n.”

Your fist raised on the red door, you were shivering in fear. The knock was hard and harsh, making you wince at the loudness. A few rattles were heard behind the door, in the next second the door opened revealing the small king. 

“Oh.” His attempt to close the door was stopped from your feet. “We have to talk.” You said serious and Lucifer looked again, annoyed. “Yeah, no.” He opened the door again and walked past you. 

“Your highness, please.” Lucifer ignored you, his finger graced onto the wall, “dusty.” He muttered. You ran towards him, “Your Highness!” Still nothing.

“Lucifer!” finally he halted. “Finally I-“ “What did you call me?” His voice was firm and stern. “I-“ Did you do something wrong?

His horns started to grow on his head and your surroundings started to fall into darkness. The lights started to flicker. His tail, you didn’t knew he had, started to flick dangerous behind him.

“It’s already enough that you little scum disturbed the little peace I just had.” The hallway started to get hotter every second. And not in a good way. Your skin felt like it was melting away, the pain was now still bearable. 

“I’m so-“ His growl interrupted you, “Stop talking! How can someone be so annoying! Just your presence is so disturbing. I hate it even when you speak!” Your breath hitched, your fear making your body halt in every movement.

His nails started to turn red and a flame started to rage between his horns. 

“You should’ve died yesterday!” Flames started to burn around you, burning a bit your skin. Your ears started to ring, Lucifer's words started to stab your heart. You should've listened to husk.

Lucifer didn't look humane anymore. Every soft feature of him disappeared. All you could see was the thirst of blood. The itching in his hand to just kill you limp by limp.

“How can anyone even like, even Love you?! Such a stupid little bitch who doesn’t even understand the concept of peace!” You took a step back, in a blink he was in front of you, holding you tight on your neck. 

'What's happening?'

The moment he pulled you up and closed his hand around your neck, tight, you wanted to scream. Your nails scratched onto his arms. His skin was hot and burning. His hand that strangles you was starting to break your skin, under the heat and force. 

You wanted to scream, shout but nothing came out. 

You opened your eyes and all you could see in those red raging eyes from Lucifer, was him. It was a deja vu.

An re-living of how you died all those years ago. This hatred in those eyes. Your eyes started to tear up. You wanted it to stop. 

This hate in their eyes. 

Your Mother,

Your Lover,

And now Lucifer. 

Your boiled blood started to pour onto Lucifers skin, your vocal-chords started to burn from the heat. A pain you've never experienced bloomed and your blood started to form around Lucifer. your body was acting on Autopilot. Trying to protect you.

With one forceful push, a cut formed onto Lucifers cheek, the golden blood dripped slowly onto his shirt. The sudden pain brought him back to reality. Like someone poured freezing water onto him.

He let you go and you fell full force onto the ground. 

You couldn’t breathe, your neck was burning hard and your face twisted in pain. The only thing was a bloody screech from you in pain. 

Your body was shaking uncontrollable. Your surrounding was black and no one but your mother was standing in front of you. Her nose pinched up. 

“You’re such a disgrace. Who would’ve ever liked you?” Your throat was burning, and every attempt to talk was like a hot iron in your throat. “I-I.. so-“ you coughed out blood, painting the black carped dark red. You scratched onto the wet carpet. 

“So-“ another bloody cough. “-rry!” Blood flooded out of your mouth and it was so painful. “You’re so beautiful Y/n, when you’re this broken you know.” Your eyes wandered up to those pretty eyes of him. You raised your arm up to meet his hands, but they glided through. “Who could ever love you.” 

You grabbed your head, you want it to stop. 

Stop!

Another screech left you but this time, your brain was hot, burning. And the other moment you just switched up. Your body slumped to the floor like a corpse. 

Lucifer looked in horror at you. 

“Kitty? Kitty!” He ran towards you holding your head in his hands. “What a Show. What a shame it ended now!” Alastor laughed heartily, his body morphed into the shadows. 

Lucifer was checking for any pulse, but no. Charlie stormed down the now burned hall, “Dad?” “Call Belphegor right now!” Charlie terrified grabbed her phone. The moment Belphegor was on the phone Lucifer snatched the phone out of charlies hands. 

“Bel, I need you. Fast!” He was in full panic. 

Why? 

He doesn’t have any clue. 

________

“That’s not good.” Bel muttered as she checked your Vitals. “Her heart is beating but very slow and she’s in a coma. Her Vocal-chords are damaged but she will be able to talk again.” 

She closed the curtain from the bed. She sighed deeply, her gaze shifting towards Lucifer. “Lucifer, Why?” Lucifer moved a bit but wasn’t looking at Belphegor. 

“Look at me Lucifer. Why would you do that, that’s not usual for you.” 

Oh God, is Y/n alright? And what is wrong with Lucifer?

💫

Taglist

@i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger @concentratedconcrete @ylovei @cimadreamer @ayanazoldyck @froggybich @ravensdecent36 @fangthesandwing

[sirwadewilsonfromimgur]

Deadpool & Wolverine: Scenes from an unconventional marriage.

Pre script authors note: The following was inspired by a few conversations between @icarusredwings and myself, part of which was a scenario that i thought would be funny... if this is your first story reading one of my AUs (first of all. woof, you picked a long one) Secondly. The boys have money, Peter works for them as an assistant and logistics expert. They live in Kansas city because of Wade's crusade against anti-mutant GMO corn... go back and read KoKC for details.

Scene 3

Kansas City Missouri Earth-10005 (2031-ish)

When two murderous Canadian mercenaries love each other very much...

Part 1 : paternal instincts.

Our scene opens up where most of our scenes open with this author.

The 19th floor of 700 W 31st Street Kansas City Missouri.

(the building known to its Tennants as One Park Place tower)

International headquarters of Malfeasance and Fraud Mitigation (Mercs for Money) LLC. And home to Logan and Wade Howlett-Wilson.

And Blind Al don't forget her! And Mary puppens I'll stab you if fucking forget about her. By the way Brace yourself folks this might be a crossover AU one-shot non canonical story.

Wade was talking to himself as usual having left the office after chain smoking a pack of Lucky Strikes and going over Financials with Peter and Althea. The business part of the business of killing was a huge pain in the ass. Logan insisted he take an active role beyond just killing. It was hell on his undiagnosed autism/ADHD.

Fuck Excell, fuck spreadsheets, fuck shopping around for cheaper ammo to save a dollar, this Is a Winchester house we're not buying off brand bullets from eastern Europe!

But it was finally over and he could enjoy the rest of his day. Which he intended on doing as he walked towards Logan sitting on the couch in the livingroom. He had a Nintendo Switch and was playing Mario 3 online.

He'd taken a liking to playing games ever since Laura convinced him to play Smash Brothers with her a few years ago.... Wade loved that he'd picked up what many especially the Wolverine himself would consider an unserious hobby.

he sucked at it, but he was trying to improve. He had recently beat Zelda: link to the past, but he still couldn't beat Laura at Smash Bros. Wade sat down next to him with a thud.

You get all your work done for the day princess? He asked without looking up from his screen.

I did. It was terrible. I hate it. Please don't make me do it again. Wade gently puts a hand on Logans thigh, not necessarily with amorous intentions. It's more like trying to ground himself after a stressful afternoon by connecting with his Wolverine.

Sorry bub, but you gotta learn about the actual business. It'll give you a better perspective before you go spending money. Besides its our company, and it's more than shooting fools. Now, if you gimme a sec I'll find a stopping point. These little fucking turtles have been giving me hell.

Thier Koopas penut, stomping on turtles, would be cruel. As for Al and Peter, they are the best at what they do... and what they do isn't very interesting.

Logan chuckles at Wade's bad joke, turning off his game. You smell like cigarettes bub, you know those are bad for your health. *sniffs* lucky strikes.... you know I remember when lucky strike was a plug tobacco brand (chewing tobacco bound together with molasses the 1870s were a weird time)

That sounds disgusting Penut... also I think smoking is the least of my problems. You didn't have to stop playing your game I just Wanted to be near you. But speaking of, did I tell you I was in a video game once?

Logan was accustomed to this line of thought at this point, they were in a film, a fanfic on Tumblr, a comic book, a novel... a video game was new... he couldn't see the audience, as far as he knew his choices were his own. But he didn't immediately dismiss Wade like he had in the past, because when he said things like this, there was a thread, especially if Wade said something ominous. He knew to clock it and treat the situation with care.

You were? Tell me about it bub. He said this as he pulled Wade onto his lap, feeling the need for a little cuddling while his garrulous lover regaled him with a meandering story... he liked it.

Well Penut it was the far off year of 2013, my voice sounded like Nolan North at the time and not the buttery Ryan Reynolds tones I have today. It was before the Deadpool movies and I didn't have the budget for a Hollywood actor.

Logan shook his head in mock understanding, not understanding what he meant by having a different voice at all.

Anyway, cutting past the tutorial levels, I remember Cable was there, and so we're you. Well, not you, one of you. Ya' know.

Logan gave Wade a little squeeze at the mention of Wade's ex, Cable... something about that guy made him feel possessive, not a normal reaction for a pair that generally regarded themselves as polyamorous. It probably had something to do with him being (this universe's) Scotts son which is a situation that's weird on its face before someone explained time travel to you and once that was done Logan would have to open a whole can of worms regarding trauma of love lost, parallel universes, and his Scott...

he pushed it to the back of his brain as Wade told his story, how he went on an adventure and that other Logan. he even let me fly the Blackbird... this, of course, resulted in disaster... he crashed it, leading in to a light explanation of how his and that Logans relationship was... tense.

Wade went on about traipsing through the ruins of Genosha a totally real place Logan was unfamiliar with...

there was no Genosha or Krakoa in his universe, and by far the largest difference between the world's he'd noted. It was a land populated by mutants that had suffered a brazen attack by humans... a story Logan was all too familiar with. It's a story he's been doing his best to live with. Pulling himself out again he focuses on Wade's story, he'd mentioned a musical number with Lady Death (who was not played by Aubrey Plaza at the time wade lamented) and then discovery that it hadn't been Agatha all along but Mister Sinister at the heart of the problem.

He'd planned on destroying Wade's favorite taco restaurant along with the rest of the world by *checks notes* exhuming mutant bodies to obtain their unique DNA.... or something. It was almost 20 years ago penut so it's fuzzy.

An injustices Wade simply could not stand for. He personally killed several of Sinisters clones in the process of ultimately stopping his evil scheme before confronting him at Magneto's old Citadel where he'd been hiding out...

I squashed him like a bug under the boot of an old Sentinel, Penut! The big purple kind like from X-men 97! Anyway, the credits role and because of licensing issues, the game is only available to play on hard disk, and it's expensive.

Logan nodded his head (again) in tacit agreement with this statement as if he completely understood *he didn't* kissed Wade on the cheek and held him. He was about to suggest that he and Wade go for a walk when Wade jumped off his lap

Oh, Penut! Talking about Sinister reminds me of something!

Wade ran across the room and headed towards the large storage room they kept some sundry items in, the Christmas tree, seasonal stuff and a few boxes of Wade's "crap" that he couldn't get rid of. Mind you this wasn't Wolverines terminology, Wade had written in red crayon on the boxes Crap. Out of curiosity Logan had followed behind him and was standing in the door watching Wade feverishly dig through boxes, opening them taking stuff out and Searching for something.

Amongst the random objects was a furry red doll with a grande attached to it. Logan quickly picks it up.

Wade, why dose this doll have a live Fucking grande attached to it... I thought we agreed all explosives stay at the safe house not the condo!

Oh, tickle me Hell-mo, in fairness Penut I forgot he was even in that box... I forgot what was in a lot of these boxes, trinkets, souvenirs... grenades... apparently. I just knew i didn't want to throw these things away. He rifled through another box as he said this and pulled out a large gray rectangular device with buttons nobs and a small readout display.

FOUND IT! c'mon Penut, I'll clean this up later. I want to show you something. Wade rushed out of the storage room as fast as he'd ran in, Logan followed behind exploding doll in hand. He knew he'd better just entertain whatever it was Wade wanted to show him. Besides, he is kinda cute when he's excited about something.

Ok Princess, what about that box has got you so worked up.

Wade sets it on the marble counter.

Sinister was a sick fuck, and certifiably evil... but he was a brilliant geneticist and created several devices for harvesting DNA... I, lightly acquired a few things.

You stole shit.

I WASN'T PAID! so yeah after killing the fucker FOR FREE and distracting the X-men who conveniently showed up after I did all the work, I rooted around the citadel where he'd set up shop. I took this! He said pointing at the device. He then proceeded to pull out an instruction manual seemingly from thin air and read it out loud.

This device can take the DNA of two or more individuals regardless of gender and re-combine it to make a new life.

Logan was taken aback, not only by the inference that this device could assist them in having biological children together... but because Wade fucking read something out loud flawlessly without having to sound it out...

Bub, you can read today?

I guess so... but I'll probably only be able to write in Mandarin tomorrow. So enjoy it while you can. But to the point at hand, Penut, I want to have your babies. And with this I believe we can... with the help of a surrogate.

Sweet heart (Logan said as gently as possible in an attempt to spare his feelings) I don't think we're ready for kids, especially little ones.

Logan held up the explosive doll as exhibit A for his argument.

Wade responds by just looking at Logan, big comic book accurate blue eyes staring right in to his soul, Logan could see the tears welling up....

Jesus, bub! Stop! You emotionally manipulative little cunt! Logan broke his gaze and looked out the window pretending to be interested in downtown...

Look Princess, I know how badly you want a kid of your own... you told me all about it.

But you've got some steps to take before I consider being a father to a new life with you... firstly who's gonna surrogate? And don't tell me Ness, she's a good friend but that's asking a lot of her and don't be all depressed if she tells you no.

Secondly... and I can't believe I'm saying this... but if you want me to even flirt with the Ideas Wade, we gotta make this house a safe place and... buy one of the units next to us to expand into so the kid has a room... and you gotta get a safe for the guns and a locked case for the swords. we can't have them accessible to a toddler... no more keeping a Glock in the silverware drawer, no more LadySmith revolvers under the couch cushions. No more cocain in the pantry labeled "flour" in mason jars.

Well... that doesn't sound like a No, Penut... or should I say... Daddy?

Logan cringed at Deadpool, calling him daddy in a decidedly nonsexual tone. It didn't sound normal.

If the Wolverine wasn't sure about this, he probably shouldn't have given Wade a goal with clearly defined parameters...

Wade had hyper focus and devoted himself to baby proofing the condo, weapons secured. Drugs removed (by consuming them, Logan didn't say he couldn't have fun)

He negotiated buying the vacant one bedroom unit that was on the other side of their office walls, blew out said wall, and had contractors built two new large bedroom suites with bathrooms. He installed a Cypher lock on the office door and... yes, the golden girls were behind glass in a locked display cabinet. Something he could punch through should he need to defend the house quickly.

He did this all with his personal funds. Everything was on course... accept finding a surrogate... believe it or not, Vanessa wasn't actually Wade's first choice. He didn't want to ask her to commit to the inconvenience, especially since he didn't want to interfere with her relationship with Dermot... also the touchy subject of asking the woman you wanted to start a family with to hay... help me start a family with my husband it'll be fun! No... Vanessa would be a fun aunt, but he knew he'd have to seek out the services of a professional or something.

They did find an agency that helped them meet with potential surrogates. It wasn't cheap.

A situation that was more complicated than taxes, filing out mountains of paperwork. Then they had to actually meet these women. Money they had... interview skills not so much. Especially when a few walked in, saw Wade's face, and immediately walked out. The best ones screamed, the worst one thought she was on one of those terrible reality prank shows...

Logan despised the nights after such interviews. Holding Wade as he wept.

Logan... what if my own baby thinks I'm scary? What if they don't want to be seen with me or worse they're bullied at school for being the son of a monster... *loud sobs* because it's true, I am a monster. A murderer, a war criminal whose outside is exactly who he is on the inside... a freak.

Logan had gotten Wade to believe him after years when he said he loved him, his scars added depth and character and that he thought his husband was the sexiest man to walk the earth, the void, and the multivers.

But that only applied to him, others... well, given how the interviews went, it was a blow to his ego.... and his mental health. It'd be days before he got Wade to come back out from under his hood or mask. But that was a problem for tomorrow. But for tonight, Wade had entered a shutdown for lack of a betterword... Logan held him, fed him, got in the large shower with him, washed him, and went to bed, tucked in the large bed he held his beloved who had curled himself up in to a ball.

Tomorrow will be better Princess, we'll find the right person, and I promise any baby of ours will love you and be kind. Because that's who you are, really on the inside bub... you forget it. But as long as I've known you, your heart has been in the right place in the end, and you're kinder than I am by a country mile.

The sleep that night was thankfully dreamless for the both of them.

The next morning, Logan made a simple breakfast of eggs and toast for both of them. Putting the bottles of salsa and sriracha near Wade plate... he looked at the clock. 6:30 am

Meaning it was 7:30 in New York. He'd try and give Vanessa a call in half an hour knowing she'd be up by then for sure. He needed to commiserate with someone who understood Wade like he did.

The phone call he had that morning was surprising. He'd let Vanessa know what'd been going on with the agency... and the drama... he was shocked to learn she didn't even know they were considering having a baby.

Wade, didn't tell you?

No Red's not said a word of this to me, I'm honestly confused as to why you goofballs didn't ask me first.

Well, after yesterday, I might as well be the one to ask. Would you consider it Ness?

I... hmmm.... tell you What, this isn't exactly a phone conversation, and it sounds like I need to have a chat with my buddy... I can be there this weekend if you can help a sister out with at ride.

*Logan scoffs playfully* sure I'll have peter send out a G700 to pick you up.

Oooo spoil me, Daddy she retorted.

Logan gaged... gross Ness.

She cackled at getting the old man's goat for a solid minute before they finally wrapped up the call, Logan could definitely see why she and Wade had clicked.

It was another down day, no jobs scheduled, they could afford to take longer breaks and be choosy with contracts. Althea had the money making money with a few business development investments, the purpose of which was to launder money and pay taxes, the fringe benefit being they actually produced a small regular incom. (Please stop talking about the intricacies of the business, haven't I suffered enough!)

A short walk away on the other side of Broadway is the Penn Valley off leash dog park. Mary loved being able to run about and the boys liked that they didn't have to worry about her getting hit by a car... not that it would have affected her for long, but they both knew regenerating is something you'd rather not do if you didn't have to. Wade was indeed tightly tucked into a hoodie hiding his face as best he could. Logan would address that later. They got to the dog park gate without issue, Wade actively avoiding any other people they saw on the way.

Logan unhooked the leash from the ring on her doggy vest, and she was off like a bat out of hell to do whatever it is Dogpools do when they have a whole field to run in. He pulled out a cigar from his pocket case. A Cohiba, a real one from Cuba, smuggled it himself from a job that took them to the Caribbean. He carefully cut the tip with a specialized Xikar cutter, lit the end of a cedar strip, and used the growing flame from it to light his cigar... a lot of ritual for something you literally burn. But Logan found it calming, he also needed one of his strongest cigars to help cover up the smell of the dog park... even if everyone picked up after their dog (they most certainly didn't) the smell was not great for Logan.

We should both probably cut back on the smoking when the babies get here penut... he said this as he pulled out a cigarette... they didn't do much for either of them chemically. Wade just enjoyed the habit, something comforting about it... plus if Wolvy was gonna have a cigar, it made him feel like it was a couples activity. Doing a mundane thing together was one of Wade's favorite things.

I spoke to Ness this morning.

Oh, I hope she's doing well. I need to call her.

I wouldn't worry about it, she'll be here this weekend... Wade, sweetheart... why didn't you tell Ness about our plans, she seemed a little hurt you didn't tell her.

She's traveling a thousand miles, probably to tell me off. I think she's more than hurt if she's coming out here... you know Penut... you said that I shouldn't get my hopes up with her... and I kinda took it to heart... Also I have my own hangups about it... Firstly being how insensitive it sounds on it's face. "Hay Ness, if you and Dermot aren't using it, can we rent your womb? Only 9 months, first month deposit up front!"

But more importantly, for the better part of a decade, Vanessa has been pulled into the misadventures of Deadpool. I love her (platonically). I'm glad we were able to stay friends... but she really doesn't need to get wrapped up in my problems, schemes, and drama... again. Not at my request anyway. A big issue I have is personal, I was going to start a family with her. Asking felt... regressive. But also to the point, her proximity to me has gotten her kidnapped and killed before. I still feel guilty about it.

You also traveled the multivers to save this reality for her, also you traveled back in time and saved her bub.

Aint you ever seen endgame. That's not how time travel works. Somewhere out there, in some other time line, Vanessa is still dead, and it's my fault. This is just a branched timeline.

Since when has the timeline ever made Since bub!

*Loud gasp* PENUT DID YOU JUST BREAK THE FOURTH WALL?

I don't think so, bub... I don't see the people, but I remember you trying to explain how the "other me" time traveled in 2014, and now there aren't Sentinel's running death camps. That the timeline changed and converged.

This is no different Princess, don't think about it too hard, you said. So I'm telling you the same thing. Don't fret about it bub, Vanessa is alive... and she will be here Saturday.

You're too good for me, Penut. I Don't deserve you.

No, you don't... he said as he picked a small plastic bag out of his pocket. You literally stole me. But I love you anyway. Now go pick up the massive shit Mary just took. I refuse for us to be the kind of people who just leave it.

Wade took the bag.

It's probably Stockholm syndrome Penut.

Vanessa arrived Saturday afternoon, in a Falcon 900LX. It was the best Peter could arrange on short notice... not that Vanessa knew the difference between a G700 and a Falcon, she was just happy not to be on Southwest. Dermot was with her... the man was almost the antithesis of Wade, He liked Hiking and he was quite to the point of being accused of being shy. Dry witted... and as he'd recently discovered when he went to the gun range with the boy's last 4th of July... a lousy shooter. But he was stable, kind, and good-natured. Definitely willing to go along to get along with a lot of Wade's antics at parties. He knew why Vanessa had come, and he was perfectly fine with it. It didn't interfere with his plans at all. He was a slow burner and Vanessa hadn't indicated she was in any hurry to tie the knot. But that's a story for another time.

Wade had gone the extra mile to spoil them. A black limousine complete with champagne greeted them on the tarmac and whisked them off to casa de chaos.

She walked in the door like she owned the place, dropping her bag by the door. She walked to the dining room table and sat...

Come over here and sit with me boys. We got a lot to talk about and I'd like to waste no time getting down to business.

Oh, so direct. Wade said in a catty tone high enough to indicate he was joking as he winked

We're gonna gloss over the fact that you didn't involve me with your family planning from the start... but I hear you've had a hard time landing a surrogate. she cut eyes at Wade as she said this. Wordlessly airing all of her hurt feelings and grievances regarding not even being told Wade and Logan were trying to have a baby. Something one would think a best friend would be told

I'd like to make an offer. On the condition that despite you two being my best friends... I aint doing this for free.

Oh, if that's the case Ness then you gotta interview like all the rest. He said this in a joking tone but she didn't miss a beat.

Ok Red, I've been substance free for over 20 years, I don't smoke. I promise not to drink or eat selfish for the entire pregnancy, and I'm one of two people in this room who've seen you naked and didn't require drugs and therapy after.

Yeah... my dick dose look like a peperoni somone forgot in the air fryer.

And your sack looks like someone took a crown royal bag, filled it with puss, and ran it through the middle of a hog pin.

Wade smiles. And laughs a little...

Ok, Ness. you got the job.

Great, I knew you'd see it my way. She proceeded to write a number on a piece of paper and slid it across.

That's my price. Also, Dermot and I are gonna be long-term hous guests for obvious reasons. Convenient since he can do his job remotely....

Wade looked at the number, showed it to Logan, and smirked... I think the both of you could retire for this much money... but nothing is too good for my baby. I am going to have to kill several people for this.

Bub, we might have to overthrow a government.

Pff like that's something new.

Lucky you Ness, you get to be the first person to stay in one of the new rooms... and tangentially responsible for a potential war crime! He grinned like the devil at her

---

Shortly after the contract was finalized, Vanessa and Dermot moved in, and it was a short trip to New York... the boys provided a sample and Mister Sinisters machine to Dr. Henry McCoy... who was fascinated by the whole thing (he later wrote an entire dissertation on it) he helped with the procedure... the result of which was one Vanessa Carlysle pregnant with the Biological child of the combined DNA of Deadpool and Wolverine...

The following 9 months went surprisingly smoothly (apart from one small incident with a serial killer, but that's a chapter in the Noir, we will worry about it later)

The day came... Vanessa went into labor, early in the morning. Thankfully, it seemed like it would be free of complications. meaning that Wade and Vanessa both got their wish for thus day. The baby was born at home.

Wade had an aversion to hospitals. Bad memories of cancer diagnosis, and a general fear of strange men in white lab coats. Not every man mind you. He was cool with Beast and other people he knew personally and he knew a few scientists and doctors... Logan wasn't averse to hospitals apart from the smells of disinfectant and illness mixed together. Vanessa was a bit new age for her justification, why bring life into the world in a place so many go to die, on top of it being uncomfortable, and expensive.

As a result, the midwife was called arrangements were made and the new life was soon ushered into the world. They say history doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme. Like his father Logan, who was born at home to an affluent family in a room where he'd spend his childhood, this baby was born in the penthouse of a tower to affluent parents in a room he'd inhabit well in to his 20s.

Vanessa wasn't in labor long. No birth is a walk in the park, but she would tell you it was pretty easy and without drama compared to others. She pushed one last time, and he was out. Vanessa did get the honor of holding him first after the midwife cleaned him up... Logan couldn't resist the urge; the umbilical cord was carefully cut with an adamantium claw blade. He had been offered a scalpel for the record.

Hay there, little guy... it's a pleasure to meet you.

She held him for 5 minutes before she called Wade over.

I know someone who's been waiting a very long time for you... I think it's time you should finally meet him

Vanessa handed the tiny bundle to Wade, who had whipped off his shirt the second Vanessa called him over. I read that skin to skin contact was beneficial to the baby. he'd said as he carefully supported the babies head and neck and brought him in closer to his chest.

Welcome to the world... I apologize for the state of it, but I have indeed waited a long time to meet you, little guy... I'm Wade, but please call me dad. Your other dad over there is the Wolverine, that makes you my Kitten. I promise you I'll do the best i can being your father. Please don't judge me too harshly.

Babe, get over here and take your shirt off.

If I had a dollar for every time you've said that to me.

So what should we name him...

You didn't think of a name already!

Logan said it was bad luck *shrugs*

But at least we got the last name sorted Howlett-Wilson 👌

Bub, hyphenated names are a pain in the ass... its not a problem for us because we rarely use our real married name for anything official... let's just give him your last name.

Wade scrunched his face with a little distaste...

Wolvy he's our baby. He should have something from both of us... I mean, besides our mental illness... that's a given.

Tell you what princess; how about we Name him James. It was my name... once, but I don't use it anymore. He can have it.

His middle name however was a much longer discussion... mostly because Wade offered several typical Deadpool options that Logan Veto'ed outright.

Thunderdick! No. Skullcursher!? God, no. James MAGNUM Wilson! That's terrible Wade...

It went on for a minute before Vanessa finally chimed in. Evan... I've always liked that name.

Well, it's a normal name. So I like it.

Works for me, Penut. Though it'd be a lot cooler if it was Danger... but that's my middle name.

Your middle name is Winson.... idiot!

Part two: the Life and Times of James E. Wilson (hope you like crossover AUs)

James's earliest memory is his father, Wade holding him, comforting him... but also crying. He vaguely remembered being at the playground, running and jumping as most toddlers do... tripping on something and skinning his knees on the sidewalk... he naturally had the reaction of crying from the pain and surprise... it wasn't until James was much older that he understood why his dad kept mumbling why aren't you healing?

It's ok, dad... you don't need to cry. I already feel better.

Even at a young age, he felt compelled to comfort someone else. To help. It broke him out of thinking about his own problems, including skinned knees...

The result of this little accident was Wade panicking. They went back to the house and grabbed the dog and his other dad. Papa (or the big bad wolf if James was misbehaving) no amount of reasoning or comments from Logan couldn't stop him or calm Wade down.

Logan Howlett-Wilson get your ass in the car and drive us to the airport right now! Were going to the Mansion to see the fucking doctor RIGHT NOW!

Logan got the message, Wade didn't forgo pet names unless he was bone chillingly serious in intention and resolve. So within minutes, they were on a jet to New York. Where James met a fuzzy blue man he liked very much despite the blood draw. That was uncomfortable, but he found the lab he was in fascinating... weather or not, this influenced his future career he couldn't fully say. But probably a little.

The news delivered to the... not so young, but definitely, new parents was not stellar... Hank had run several tests and analyzed James' DNA structure. He possessed the X-Gene, but it was dormant due to being recessive. Much like Wade he'd have to undergo profound trauma to activate it. There was no guarantee he'd come out the other end with a healing factor. It could be anything... furthermore, it was highly unethical and unthinkable to subject a child.... Wade cut him off

I know a lot of people don't think highly of me. But how fucking dare you assume I'd even entertain the idea of tormenting my child.

Easy bub, I don't think Hank was implying anything. Ya' know he gets lost in the hypotheticals. Right Hank!?

The blue man nodded in agreement.

We will just... have to be extra careful.

Wade picked James up. C'mon soldier. There's a big metal doofus ya gotta meet.

---

One particular afternoon James was sitting in his office recounting some memories with his friend Gregory. Though they had a habit of referring to each other by sir name. Wilson and House

(what a twist)

The day the two met was actually one of the few points in time that if you knew who his parents were you'd say "oh yeah, that is clearly the offspring of Deadpool and Wolverine" it was at a medical conference in New Orleans. Wilson dosn't remember the exact circumstances he'd been drinking but his father's tempers came out of him as he'd threw punches and generally effectively kicked ass at a bar brawl (Wade would have been so proud) House ever the shit stirrer jumped in and backed him up. Truly his fathers son, meeting your best friend as a result of incredible violence... in a bar.

House had actually just finished telling Wilson about his most recent case, yet another patient that had been previously misdiagnosed as having lupus. It was Hashimoto's disease if you're curious. The interactions he'd had with the patient made him think she'd been being neglected, bare minimum socially isolated... he recognized his own surliness in others. It resulted in a dressdown of her parents that he was certain would result in an office visit with Cuddy and detention after school.

High-school wasn't a fun time for Gregory...

You know it wasn't exactly fun for me either.

From the age of 11 to the time he left for med school, he was escorted by armed gaurds to and from school. Growing up in Kansas city, he'd gone to Pembroke Hill School, a private school that specialized in STEM that's tuition cost as much as a new car annually... he was one of only two kid's that went to that school that arrived with a security detail, not however the only one that arrived in a limousine. The other kid was the child of Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift. They weren't friends... he didn't really have friends.

Aww poor little rich boy

House chided at him

At least you didn't get shoved into a locker...

Which was true. He didn't have friends but he didn't have enemies either. The closest thing he had to a best friend was his Grandma Al and Mr. Yoshitomi his driver/lead bodyguard. he was allowed to call him Yoshi...

The man was clearly retired Yakuza, and like his father Logan, tough on the outside but secretly a teddy bear. The truth is Wilson found himself alone at home, too. Apart from Al... but she mostly sat him down in front of a TV and fed him before going outside to smoke...

so apart from weekends, he was alone. Occasionally, he'd see his big sister Laura. She was frequently busy herself being the "official" Wolverine of the Xmen. He liked it when she brought him comics, fictionlized accounts of the adventures of his dad in the past, and his big sister... he knew his dad's loved him. No one could argue that... but What had started as two lovers in New York trying to make rent money by doing the only thing they were good at; picking up random jobs on the dark web (Killing mostly) in the mid 2020s morphed into a private security firm in Kansas City that rivaled Black Water and the (fucking) Pinkertons by the 2040s.

They were busy, and it did provide him a comfortable life without student loans. But from 11 to 18, it was him Al and what had to be the world's oldest dog. She's still alive, actually. The dog loved him and was rarely not by his side when he was home (because all deadpools love their babies) Althea however was not, she was a chain smoker and heavy drug user until the day she died.

how that woman lived to be 115 is fucking beyond me

She lived long enough to see (metaphorically) Wilson graduate medical school. It was the last time he'd seen her. He moved away and started his residency in New Jersey. Wade had sent a private plane as well as several veiled threats to the Dean of medicine at the time to ensure Wilson had the time off to attend the funeral.

Wilson... I gotta ask, why did you have armed guards?

Oh! Funny story when I was 10. I was kidnapped once

(Exactly once I made sure of that)

It's true. He was heading home from school. He made it to the driveway of the tower he called home when some very ill-informed gangsters decided to kidnap the son of a rich man... they didn't do their resurch as to who's kid exactly, just figured they'd get a ransom...

In fairness on paper Wade and Logan weren't Wade and Logan, they were two random dudes who ran a lucrative business and weren't shy about showing off.

This leads to probably the second most traumatic memory Wilson had... not necessarily the kidnapping. Thwy had actually treated him surprisingly well.

What shocked him was seeing his father Logan covered in blood kicking down the door he'd been kept in. He'd never seen his father in the tight yellow and brow suit before. Or the mask... he had taken it off when he clocked James but that only made it worse. The entire bottom of his father's face was coated in blood, like he'd gored a man (he actually had ripped open one of the gangsters throat with his teeth) the blood was cut clear with two rivulets of tears. What James didn't know is they were tears of joy seeing his son, and tears of relief. Because if anything had happened to James the Genocide he and his husband were going to commit in response would have made his incident in his own universe look like childs play.

---

Rebellious teenage years years were impossible. You couldn't steal weed from your blind grandma and hid it in your room, not from the nose of the Wolverine.

Do you know what this shit dose! It makes you fucking stupid is what it does, and your dad and I aren't raising a fucking idiot!

Logan never hit him. But he was scary when he yelled and loud... if he was really pissed those claws popped out. Never an actual threat but fucking scary.

It wasn't the worst childhood, and it wasn't a bad life. Wilson became an oncologist partly because he was fascinated by his own father. The man who's cancer actually kept him alive. He had success, failures... it's like his dad said "what dosn't kill you makes you bad at intimacy kido" 3 ex wives later he finally understood what he meant by that.

All the events of his life that you know about that happened on the show. They happened. The only difference is that he went home to Kansas City for the holidays. Where he'd see his seemingly ageless father's and sisters. He loved his family Logan, Wade, Laura, and Ellie (we'll talk about her in another story.) Which is just as well. He never had children of his own, and after your 3rd failed marriage, you kinda give up on the idea of expanding your family. But until his dying day his dad dotted on him. And bragged, boy did he brag especially to the Xmen when he had a chance to rub in their face his son the successful Doctor! (Suck on that Jean!)

But for Wade, the day did finally come that his immortality became a curse... with every Christmas, Thanksgiving, and spring break that came, James got older. Wade was at his retirement party, He remembers loving Dr. House's wildly inappropriate speech and toast. A man after his own heart, but after the laughter subsided, he realized that his boy, who was graciously receiving a gold watch, had lines in his face and gray hair.

The years kept coming... Wilson got older, he got sick... and his mortality came to pass.

If the universe brought these starbound lovers together for any particular reason. It was for this moment, Wade loved two things Intensely, his Wolverine and his children... but the Death of his first son broke him. Logan clinged on to Wade physically and emotionally. Doing everything he could to hold him together. It was many years before Wade could be called Ok. It was another couple hundred years before he even considered the idea of raising more children.

It should be noted that James was the only one to be fully genetically Logan and Wade's. He was special, one of a kind.

Wade carried a portion of James's ashes with him in a small locket around his neck where it stayed for countless millenia. In dangerous situations he'd even cut himself and put it under his skin so it wouldn't get lost...

Epilogue:

The lady at the end of the road sits in her ethereal other world. Surrounded by various time keeping devices dimly lit by candles flames that don't consume. She pulled out a pocket watch and a ledger. She had an appointment to keep. This one was a special case. The dark lady had the power to send out shades, to be everywhere at once. But this appointment she'd handle directly. She carried out her appointed task kindly but usually without emotion. She was inflexible and didn't bargain or despite what you may have heard play chess or gamble for time or souls....

Wade was there... hospice care was set up about a week ago, and he sat by James side as the ravage of time and biology took its toll. By regular human standards Dr. James Wilson lived a good life, a long life at that. He was 97 years 6 months 2 weeks and 5 days old the morning she came. Logan had been with him the entire night before Wade had taken his shift early that morning so Logan could get some sleep. At about 10 am in the guise of a hospice nurse, she walked into the room, Wade was no fool. Only one person still alive (if you could call her alive) looked like that... He knew why she was there. He hadn't seen her in a very long time.

I see we're sticking with the Aubrey Plaza look... tears started welling up in his eyes. He looked at James in the bed beside him Despite looking down at the face of an old man, Wade still saw his baby. His son.

I thought you'd like this look, it's definitely more pleasant than most. If it's any consolation, Wade... I'm sorry I have to do this.

I haven't seen you in over 100 years. Not even the times I've died lately. Haven't seen you since the time I jumped out of an airplane into a volcano after Vanessa dumped me. Now you show up! I know why you're here.

The tears were streaming down Wade's face. Hot on his cheeks, his eyes red. He looks at her pleadingly.

Please, take me instead. Please, Lady Death. Leave my baby alone. Please, I beg you, take me.

Oh, Wade... My love. It has caused me great sorrow to not see you all these years. But don't you know? I can't take you even if I wanted to. You and Logan have woven yourself in the fabric of the universe. You and him are part of Eternity. I can't take you only, Entropy can take you. probably shortly before he takes me... even death has a death.

I know this is hard. I beg you to forgive me... but it's James's time to go. But because I love you. I waited as long as I could, he should have passed before you woke up this morning. But now you have an opportunity to say goodbye...

She moved to the bed and touched James's hand. He sat up and looked at his father.

Why are you crying, dad?

He stood up, out of the bed. Wade jumped out of his chair and embraced him tightly.

Oh, my sweet Kitten. Im so sorry. Please forgive your old man.

Wade sobs for a while before he can talk again...

I remember the day you were born... I loved you, I held you. I swore I'd burn down the world to protect you... but I can't protect you anymore...

Dad, I Don't understand. What's going on.

That's unfortunately my job to explain... but it'd be easier to show you...

She points at the bed; James looks down and to his surprise, he sees... himself. Drained of color, unmoving.

Dr. James Wilson, you have lived your life in service of others. A life well spent. But now is the time to leave that life... I'm sorry

Dad, you don't have to protect me anymore. It'll... it'll be ok.

Kitten... I love you, and though I desperately want to rage and fight and yell to keep you here longer... it's not the right thing to do. My friend here gave me an opportunity few have. I'm going to take it instead of throwing it in her face.

I love you...

I love you too Dad.

Wade hugged his son one last time, kissed him on the cheek, and led him by the hand to Lady Death.

Can... can Logan say goodbye, too?

I'm sorry Wade. I've already pushed the limits of the rules to extend this opportunity to you. I'm afraid I can't

Ok...

He looks up at James.

Your father and I will miss you. Honeybadger loved his kitten as much as I do.

I know, Dad... I know. I want you to know that I had a good life. I'm at peace. I don't want you worrying about me.

You silly boy. It doesn't matter if you're 9 or 97. I was always going to worry about you.

Lady Death extended her hand out to James.

It's time... I'm sorry, but don't be sacred. I promise where we're going isn't bad. It won't hurt.

James took her hand, and slowly took his other hand out of his father's grasp... turned and looked at him.

I love you. You were the best dad. I guess now is the time. Goodbye.

I could have been better, I'm sorry. I love you....... James... it... it might be a while before I see you again... goodbye. I'll always love you, kitten.

They walked away from Wade out the bedroom door. Wades heart broke into a million pieces as they turned to go down the hall. There was a flash of light... and he was gone.

The End.

If fan fics had credits. This would be the closing song. It is special to me... I myself would like it played at my funeral.

Below is a translation into English. Be sure to give the user who provided it a ❤️

[chickenkurage]

"The Author" (Reality Warped AU)

This is the villain.... "Alan"

He's not that scary yet XP...... Anyways, lore!

· • —– ٠ 📜 ٠ —– • ·

Summary/Synopsis:

Imagine sitting at your desk, writing the ending of your own book. When all of the sudden you wake up in a world that you literally made! Goodness this is an author’s wet dream! At least that’s what Alan is supposed to feel, until he remembers what kind of person “Alan” is in his story….

Where Alan Becker, the author of Animation vs Animator and his standalone Animation vs Minecraft (kudos to Mojang) was suddenly sucked in his own book, now he finds himself in place of his self insert character named “Alan”.... He’s supposed to be glad because he’s meeting his own creations (his own characters! Can you believe that?!), until he remembered he’s the “supposed” villain of the story.

Oh well, he can change things up right?

Ugh, right…. He is the villain, and being a villain means it’s hard to gain your character's trust (why did he even write his character as a villain?......a right because he couldn't think of any other villain, so naturally he wrote himself as one.... ugh).

· • —– ٠ 📜 ٠ —– • ·

LORE:

“Alan” in this AU is the villain, the creator of victim, The Chosen One, The Dark Lord and The Second Coming: The Chosen One’s Return. He was the worst out of the worst, he only thought of them as some play toy. Telling them what to do, and such. He was the fucking worst, at least to their point of view…. Actually, scratch that, he was the worst to everyone’s eyes. Even the Color Gang hates Alan (and somehow, they were the “chillest” out of them all). They were so used to Alan treating them like dirt at this point. Then all of the sudden he’s all kind now? What games is he playing?

Alan Becker is just an author, a really well-known author that created Animator vs Animation, originally a story he created as a teen then he tweaked it a little bit when he got older (his writing was atrocious, it clearly needed some work). But nevertheless, he was proud of his work, he even gained a fandom because of it. Met a lot of people too, and friends too! As a child, he always wanted friends on his own computer, always fantasizing how he would be with them and how fun it would be. So naturally he made a story, and that story became a sensation years later. He really should be thankful for his family and friends for giving him a push to actually publish it. After losing his interest in drawing (he clearly was not improving) he decided to just hone his writing skills better, after all a lot had said he was better at writing than drawing. And somehow, he’s glad he actually continued it. So, tell him, why the fuck did he suddenly wake up in his own story?!?! Not only that, but he also has no face?! Oh god he has no face (actually it was his fault for not really going in depth on how “Alan” looks like, now he suffered the consequence of losing his own face).

Now he's stuck as his own self insert character, forced to play a villain role, before deciding, fuck it and fed his characters kindness and love, because for the life of him he cannot act like an asshole; he feels too bad............ Naturally, he also knew how the story would end, and it won't end on a good note. So thankfully, acting kind will MOST PROBABLY change their ending... Hopefully, oh god out of all books he gets sucked into, it's his own book which probably has so many plot holes?! Someone please save him now!!!

· • —– ٠ 📜 ٠ —– • ·

Here is your well-deserved lore everyone! We finally got another Alan who isn't crazy, turned crazy, evil, a terrorist need I say more? - S

[brianssock]

I think Alex and Jay are both misunderstood for being flat characters but they have so much to give if you just look!!!!!

Also most of this is just me rambling and speculating and I wanna rewatch the series to better get a grip on the characters so don’t take this as fact, just my opinion!! :D

Also some rambling on Alex and Tim

The concept of hate, specifically the hate Alex has for Tim, is deliciously well done in Marble Hornets and I just wanted to share that lmao.

To Alex, Tim is the catalyst for all of their friends suffering. Of course Alex would want him dead, of course he would hate him and hunt him to the ends of the earth. It makes sense. What I think is fascinating about Alex’s rage is that it’s precise, even if it can be a bit messy at times. Alex wants Tim dead, end of story. No drawn out suffering, no insane forms of psychological and physical torture. Personally, if I were Alex, and a person had driven me to murder my partner and friends, I would want said person to suffer for eternity. I would want to hurt them the way they hurt me.

But Alex’s hate and loathing for Tim goes beyond suffering and circles right back to a simple idea; Alex *knows* Tim hates himself more than Alex ever could. That’s what makes the concept so well done. The drawn out process of grief is made concise and digestible for the viewer by firstly, warping the characters psyches, and secondly, by showing that each character is flawed deeply. And Tim? Tim knows it’s his fault. He doesn’t question why Alex wants him dead. And that’s why Alex never draws out the process of killing Tim. He hunts, attacks, fails, tries again. Nothing more, nothing less. Alex hates Tim in a very pure, character-driven way that is reflected by every action he takes. And I love it so much?!!

[thezombieprostitute]

The Arrangement - Part 12

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Anxiety, Bad parents and siblings, Talking about abuse. Let me know if I missed any!

Part 11 - Part 13

Series Masterlist

It had been just over a week since your wedding. You and Jake have improved your communication. He's also managed to really set himself up in the home theater where he'd spent that first night. Apparently one thing your parents got right was the massive pair of recliners specifically for that room. Jake swears they're more comfortable than most of the beds he's slept on over the years. It makes you feel better about taking the master bedroom for yourself. Clay had visited again bringing a few duffel bags of Jake's things, including his computer. The massive screen for the theater worked really well for his setup.

While you were cooking, Clay had made sure to update Jake on the status of his family. Things were working pretty well, but there were going to be a lot of paper trails to hide so that they couldn't be followed. Or at least, not followed easily. Aisha and Cougar had both caught a couple of people following his family around that were confirmed to be employed by his parents. Hopefully now that Jake had his computer he could get some better intel on the parents' finances and connections.

But you weren't privy to that update. Jake and Clay agreed it was safer to keep you in the dark about the details. Though Jake didn't doubt your sincerity, there were still too many unknowns about you.

You really didn't mind that they got quiet whenever you were near. Your mind was already at maximum anxiety with Travis, your brother, still being in the Intensive Care Unit. Your parents had been acting unusually as the week progressed and Travis didn't get better. According to the police report he'd been seen drinking heavily with friends before trying to drive home. Usually one of his friends would be the designated driver and keep everyone's keys but, somehow, Travis had gotten his keys.

And now your parents seemed to be readjusting their life plans, and yours as well. The one time you were allowed to visit the hospital you'd overheard your parents murmuring about "he can't be seen like this," "he'll be seen as weak," and other similar thoughts. It made you worried you and Jake would be even more under their scrutiny, set to even higher standards. Your breath hitched as you realized they may demand a grandchild to help change the public perception of the family to one of hope or something like that.

You and Jake were getting ready for your first public event as a couple. You're helping Jake pick out the right suit while doing your best to answer his questions about what to expect, what is appropriate conversation, how much both of you needed to talk to others before you could leave. You know you're missing things. Jake does, too. But neither of you can think of the questions to ask so you establish a silent signal for help. Jake squeezes your hand three times and you either step in or whisper some advice in his ear. It's not a great system, but it's all you can do for now.

Jake hates how he looks in all of this but he knows it's not about him or his comfort. At least he doesn't have to wear the torture device you call a dress. The thing looks impossibly tight on you. He's worried about your ability to breathe. And the stiletto heels have you warning him you'll be on his arm all night to help you keep your balance. Jake actually takes comfort in that because he really doesn't want to be left alone at this event. Probably any event, but this first one especially.

As the car pulls up Jake takes a deep breath and you attempt the same.

"We can do this, right?" He says quietly.

"I believe we can," you nod. You gently squeeze his hand in reassurance like you did that first morning with the parents.

He nods, "let's do this."

As soon as he's able Jake is out of the car and opening your door for you. The last time he did so you were scared of each other. Now you make sure to give him a small smile of thanks as he takes your hand. The elevator ride to the party is as quiet as the one you took together your wedding night, but less oppressively so. It isn't until the elevator doors open that you both put on your fake smiles. Both of you taking small comfort in the fact that neither of you is suffering alone.

After the first couple hours Jake is ready to punch someone, anyone, just so he can be forced to leave since he's not allowed out yet. He's incredibly grateful you insisted on eating a little something beforehand. The food here is barely edible and dissolves faster than cotton candy. He hates the wine? Champagne? Whatever the hell it is, he hates the taste of it but, in following your lead, he knows he has to at least sip often enough to warrant a replacement glass every 30 minutes or so. Jake was grateful to have your weight on his arm to help keep him grounded.

Especially when Charles Blackwood, a "friend" of his from high school, showed up. Charles had been nothing but a leech throughout all of high school but Jake was desperate for some kind of friendship.

"Jacob! Where have you been?" Charles holds out his hand and Jake grips it firmly.

"I've been okay, Charles. You?"

"Holy crap, you're married now? Is that why you finally came out of hiding?"

"Sort of," he admits.

He goes to introduce you but Charles stops him. "I know this lovely lady quite well," he admits. You avert your eyes. "We were engaged for some time."

"You were?"

"Didn't she tell you?" Charles smirks. "Would've been married for two years now if her parents hadn't stepped in."

"For once I'm glad they did," you interject. "You're a conman who shouldn't be here."

Charles gives a small laugh, "well look who finally grew up. Too bad you didn't pick up on what was going on before I got you into bed." Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "How are those dolphin projects going?"

"Sharks," Jake snipes. "Her focus was on sharks."

"Ooo, nerd standing up for nerd. How cute."

"You need to leave us alone," Jake fumes. "She is my wife and I won't let you insult her."

Charles scoffs, "since when can you fight?"

"Since boot camp."

That gives Charles pause. He searches Jake's face for tells that he's lying but finds none.

"Yeah, alright," Charles concedes. "Just don't ruin this party for me. Lots of other potential targets."

As soon as he was out of hearing range you let out a breath. "I'm so sorry," your voice quavers. "I should have...I should have told you."

"Told me what? That your ex-fiance is an asshole? That's not something you need to divulge."

"No...that...that I'm not..."

Jake leans in so that you're the only one who hears him. "You're more than just your virginity status. I'm sorry your first time was with him, he doesn't seem the type to make your pleasure a priority, but I'm not upset that you've had sex before."

You take as deep a breath as you can to steady yourself. "Thank you for that."

"So, can we leave the party yet?"

You check Jake's watch, trying not to be obvious about it. "We've got at least another half hour."

"When we do get out of here, would you be up for going out for some real food?"

You chuckle, "maybe delivery? Or take out? I'm not going to be able to eat much in this dress."

"Fair. And thank you for helping me get through all of this."

"Thank you for listening to my advice," you counter.

"Always," Jake affirms.

Part 11 - Part 13

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @ashdoctor; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @embarrasingmf;

@irishhappiness; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82;

@ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63