#i actually do feel kinda bad for him but also. he is a grown man who was PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES

[beauzos]

i don't know what it is. i can't explain it. but every image of Ulysses S Grant just exudes crying cat, like defeated energy

why is he so sad. is it just me

[toxooz]

maybe im projecting but i feel like Ollie would have a FUCKING HUGE monstera plant in his house thats taking over his living room

[writersdrug]

I need, need need neeeeed to know who you would picture bar owner price with 😩 picturing bar owner price has me week in the knees. I need more, how would he be around the bar when he was there? Supporting, bossy,silly? The possibilities are endless. 🥰

I'm loving how people are requesting things for the rest of the 141!!

Bar Owner!Price isn't there every day, and most often not during the actual shift. He's there some mornings, already at his desk on the floor above the pub, setting up the next inventory order and dealing out everyone's tips before Simon climbs down from his flat on the third floor. They both grunt at each other, tired and in need of a hot breakfast and some tea.

He helps set up for the shift - he likes being in the kitchen with Soap. He feels bad the man is back there all by himself, even though he says he doesn't mind it. "I get to cuss 'n bitch all I want back 'ere, sir." Still, Price spends a majority of his time back there with him, prepping burger patties and making sure everything is stocked and ready. Gets on his case about updating the menu, but Soap insists the customers like it the way it is.

Price makes an appearance on the floor every now and then, opting to help run food or bartend on the busier nights. He checks in with the regulars, leaning his forearms on the bar with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, laughing and chatting with them and occasionally offering to refill their drinks. Simon grumbles quietly about him being in the way, but Price doesn't take it to heart.

He doesn't stay late. John isn't that old, but he likes to be back at home by a decent hour. One ruined sleep schedule and he's a shot for the rest of the week. He likes to get back to his flat, make himself a sandwich and pour himself some whiskey, and be on on his sofa and reading his book no later than ten in the evening. Routines have always been a part of his military career, and what can he say? Old habits really fo die hard.

Then you came along.

You didn't just rock Simon's world - you'd gotten Price, too. Though introductions could have been smoother (you nearly beat him with a keg when he came in through the back door and scared you), he's grown fond of you. First, as a hard worker and go-getter; then, as a pretty little waitress with a dazzling smile that likes to keep him on his toes. You love poking fun at him, calling him "bossman" or "barmaster" (doesn't make sense to him, since he's hardly behind the bar - but he finds it cute). You tease him for the way he runs your food, then gets stuck at the table for five minutes just chatting up the customers. You ask him things like, "Who do you prefer, Cardi B or Nicki Minaj?" And laugh when he just stares at you with a furrowed brow. He'll happily let you tease him for being an "old" man just to hear your laughter.

Then Simon sent that photo in the group chat, and Price felt something stir in his chest: looking at you, posing all prettily for your picture, working to push your little idea out there and bring in a crowd. He's impressed, but he's also intrigued. He's got his sights on you, and he's dying to figure out more about his waitress.

"'S the post making any headway?" He asks one night, leaning on the bar next to where you sit. Your tips are finished, money waded into the pocket of your apron as you scroll on your phone, sipping on a screwdriver.

"Kinda..." You mumble, a pout on your face, creasing the skin between your eyebrows. "People are seeing it, and there are a few likes, but no one's really engaging. Not sure if this will do well."

Price hums thoughtfully, looking at your lips while you stare at your screen. He's holding back the urge to lean in and take a whiff of your perfume, afraid it might seem just a bit too strange. "Have you tried promoting it?"

You look at him, laying your phone on the bar top. "Well... I could, but..." You wanted to finish with 'it would cost money'. But then, you'd be insinuating that you expected him to pay you. You could boost the post yourself, but you'd rather not spend money on something that might flop.

"'S there a problem?" Price asked, leaning in closer to you.

"I mean... promoting a post costs some money. Like, for it to be advertised to five hundred people, you'd pay around one fifty. And I think, depending on how far you wanted the post to reach - like, literally, how big of a geographic area - that would cost even more."

Price chuckles. "You do realize how much business you've brought in since you've joined the team, hmm?"

That makes your cheeks warm, pressing your lips into a line to avoid grinning like an idiot at the compliment. "I mean... sure..."

"Go upstairs to the office and get my wallet." he says, standing up from his seat at the bar.

You watch with a stupefied expression as he walks to the POS and prints some blank receipt paper. "You- you mean it? Are you sure?"

He sits on a barstool near the kitchen door. "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. Hurry up- before I change my mind."

You don't need to be told twice. You drop your phone onto the bar and bolt towards the stairs - you stop yourself, running back to where Price sits and hugging him from behind. He lets out a surprise grunt as you do your best to smother him.

"You're the best boss ever!" you squeal. Then, just like that - you're off to the office upstairs. He preens over the compliment as he hears you leaping two steps at a time.

"Be careful." he calls over his shoulder. He sits there a moment, staring at the paper in front of him. He's surprised he hadn't accidentally thrown you off of him purely out of instinct, but he can't say he isn't absolutely delighted by the hug. It lingers in his mind, his chest still remembering your arms around him. He shakes his head, reaching forward to grab a pen from behind the bar.

His eyes meet Simon's - the man is glaring daggers, his head framed by the window in the kitchen door, mask hanging from his ear. His lips are pulled down into quite possibly the angriest frown Price has ever seen. His nostrils flare as he exhales - Price wonders what sort of insults are flying through the bartender's head right now.

He glares right back. If Simon wants something, he'll give it to him. But he'll make him ask for it, like any normal human being. John isn't going to surrender just because Ghost is huffing and puffing, expecting his boss to back away from you just because he's stomping his foot and looking menacing. But how can he be sure that Simon really wants you, more than he thinks Price deserves you, if the lad won't say anything? It's only reasonable, right?

"If you want something, Simon, say something." Price calls out, never backing down from Simon's jealous gaze.

He huffs again and disappears from the kitchen window. Price can hear shuffling and banging, followed by Soap's irritated voice: "Oi, I got it! Get yourself outta my kitchen n' go your own shite, 'fore you break my stuff."

Price sighs, scribbling down some numbers on the paper in front of him. He'll cave, eventually.

[miserycanary]

THE BRICK MAN’S WIFE ᡣ𐭩 previous ⤶

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & model!fem!reader

synopsis: finally meeting the wife

tags: a poor attempt at crack, fluff, a sprinkle of smut

2 weeks have passed since then. After a while of people sending him weird stares and catching a few mumbles of pity for him, plus the insistent questioning from a certain Scot, Ghost kinda got the gist of what was happening. Of course, he was amused but slightly offended that people thought of him like that. Also, at the fact Price didn’t do anything. In fact, he even laughed at him during a night over drinks. Mocking him and pertaining to you as “the imaginary missus”. 

He told you about it one night, sighing as he says he finally figured out why people are giving him stares. 

| “When I get my hands on the Scot,” he grumbles, pushing away strands of your hair while he cradles you in his arms. You chuckle as you feed yourself some popcorn then raise your hand to give some to your husband. “Can you blame them, Si? You don’t talk much.” Playfully rolling his eyes, he scoffs and nuzzles his mouth on your nape where he knows you’re ticklish. “Whatever.”

An opportunity to finally clear up his name arrives when the force decides to go out for drinks, accidentally stumbling upon a set on the streets. They were confused at first, brushing it off but Soap’s gasp stops them. “Look! It’s the LT’s wife,” he hisses to Gaz, motioning to where you are standing. Everyone was stunned because you looked like a heaven’s angel. Dressed in white, adorned with strings of pearls, and glittery makeup. At that moment, both Gaz and Soap momentarily wished that their lieutenant was lying because… holy fuck… you were pretty as shit. 

With the intent of busting Ghost’s “lie” (and a few hidden intentions), they suggested that they wait for you to finish up so that he could introduce the group. 

“Look, they’re done. Go call her!” Gaz bumps Ghost, earning him a glare before it softens when he looks at your direction. Immediately, your eyes met your husband’s then the rest. With a smirk, you whisper something to your manager and run to the group. Before Ghost could greet you, “Hi! Are you guys fans? I’m actually doing a meet and greet today,” you exclaim, holding back laughter when Simon looks at you like you’ve grown two heads.

I mean, what’s wrong with messing with your husband and his friends a little? Of course your little stunt drove Soap and Gaz wild, feeling proud of themselves that they proved you were lying.

Long story short, the two went home smirking while you were getting pounded deep into the mattress by your husband by the end of the night. His “revenge” for pulling that prank on him. 

| “Haaa, can’t believe you let your husband look like a fool,” Simon chuckles, snapping his hips ruthlessly while the sound of skin slapping drowns your mewls and moans. “S-sorry! Ngh– c-c-cumming!” you cry out, your nails digging down on his back while your toes curl. “Nope.” You whine and sob in frustration as you feel your husband’s cock pull out again and your climax dissipating for the nth time, your pussy clenching around nothing in hopes to pull him back in. “Please please please, I’m sorry–” your pleas get cut short by Simon’s fingers pushing deep into your mouth. “Bad girls who fool their husbands don’t get to cum, and takes what they're given” he taunts, pushing back in swift trust, bringing tears into your eyes. 

After that night of torture, you make it up to him by visiting him at the base. Thankfully, Price was the one who greets you first. After telling him that you’re there for Simon, he only chuckles and directs you to their spot. The reaction to seeing you there was immediate. Soap with his eyes bulging out, Gaz with his jaw slacked open, and Ghost with hearts in his eyes. Like a puppy, he runs to you, arms instinctively wrapping around your waist and pulling you in. “Sweetheart,” he greets but was pulled away by Soap. “Hey, mate. You shouldn’y go around grabbing ladies like that,” he frowns, which got a chuckle from you. Deciding to finally help your husband, you squeeze yourself in between the two and pressed a kiss on Simon’s lips which he quickly returned. 

It was like they just witnessed pigs fly. “WAIT, WHAT?” they exclaim in unison, while Price’s laughter echoes. “Right, to clear things up, I am indeed this brick man’s wife,” you giggle, placing your hand on his chest and head on his shoulders. “WAIT, CAPTAIN, YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS?” “Of course he knew,” Ghost butts in. “He was there during the wedding.” Like this couldn’t be any messier, more exclaims and shouts erupted from the two.  "Why didn'y tell us?" Soap asks, feeling betrayed by the Captain witholding this news which only got a shrug as a reply. You chuckle, before offering your hand to them. "It's nice to properly meet you guys. I wanted to mess with my husband when we first met," you explained. When Soap grabs your offering hand, he has to take in a breath. How are you so soft? And so, so pretty.

Gaz takes your hand next, chuckling as he gives you a firm handshake. "Well, it worked. So, is it true you're the one cooking those lunches?" Your cheeks redden as your hand pulls back, hiding behind you. "Um, yeah... I'm not good at cooking but got signed up for a cooking thing. The first one I made led to Si being sick."

The day passes as you share stories with them.

At the end, Ghost was boasting with a smirk, Gaz and Soap feeling heartbroken and dejected inside, while Price just watches in amusement. 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: sorry if it's bad. I rushed it because I don't think I'll have time anytime soon to post regularly. I hope people like this. <3 There’s a different one to this but I don’t know if people will like that version. Special thanks to @thychuvaluswife and 📩 for their ideas! This was also requested. 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask if open!

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check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

TW: Irrational jealousy

"Here. You left this at my apartment"

Stealing your gaze from the book, you look at your boyfriend who's holding a wine red lacy bra in his hands, stretching it toward you. Unlike his usual attitude, GOJO doesn't look much lively at the moment. In fact, he looks somewhat... meticulous, like he's operating a very dangerous experience and is about to witness the outcome of his efforts.

Having your eyebrows knotted together, you wordlessly take the bra in your hands, the base of your fingers gently but painfully rubbing against the soft fabric. Gojo tries his best not to let his smirk break out when you give him a quizzical look and squeeze the lingerie in your hands.

"This isn't mine"

There it is. Victory. The awaitened result of his brilliant plan to give you a taste of your medicine.

Gojo cups his mouth while expanding his fingers to give you a better look of his fake gasp through the gap between them, humming abruptly. He carefully takes a second look at the bra, then begins to mutter in a not so low voice.

"Ah— well, this is awkward" He looks at your bewildered expression from the corner of his eye and continues. "I didn't want you to find out. Not this way"

The logic behind this clever act was easy to understand. You chose to spend your day offs with your stupid, lame old friend from college instead of your incredible, handsome, mind blowingly gorgeous boyfriend, and this is your punishment. Your reasoning was too dumb and made up. Huh, how could you even look him in the eye and say you're doing this because he's just gotten back from Austria and needs you to show him around town and introduce him to your colleagues? You should've just shoved a dagger in his aching heart and told him that you dont love him anymore. So yes, you deserve this; and as they all say, revenge is a dish best served cold.

"But you see, I'm not the only one to blame in this. You are too. You were the one who left me in the dark hanging to go on a romantic getaway with that good for nothing punk"

"Satoru—"

"Let me finish. I know that it was just for three days and you did nothing but work together, but I'm a man y/n! A proud, strong grown man who has his own needs"

"Satoru—"

"I'm not an animal y/n, but how do you expect me to close my eyes and pretend like nothing's wrong? Because it is, and since I'm also an honest man, I couldn't bare with the feeling of getting abandoned by my own woman. You and I were supposed to rule the world, but you never wanted what we were—"

"Satoru!!"

Gojo grits his teeth and looks at you with slight irritation, wondering what's so important that has to interrupt his dramatic show; but his liveliness and acting power vanishes in a glance when his eyes land on the part of the bra you're pointing at while holding it up.

"There's a price tag on this"

Oh.

The small, round label is linked to the inside of the bra, which is probably why Gojo had forgotten to remove it. Yes, it was totally that; not because he was too focused on his dialogues that he forgot to even check the bra out.

Gojo stares at your jumped up eyebrows and annoyed expression, flashing you one of his most charming smiles; Only this time he can't make it as shameless as it usually is.

"Eh, I guess this shows how much I actually love you and care about you"

"You bought this two sizes bigger than mine you asshole"

"My bad, I kinda got carried away"

[watermelonlovershigh]

Day on the Yacht Turns Baby Making on the Yacht

AN: i've had this idea ever since these photos came out and knew i had to write it. and lots of you guys did too because you ate up this concept. so here yall go. hope you enjoy.

This story contains: mentions of sea sickness, trying for a baby, having sex on a yacht, slight choking (kinda), slight biting (during the sex)

{ husband!harry - softrry - current harry era }

word count: 1,962

When you're fertility tracker goes off on the yacht to let you know that now is a good time to try for a baby, you make the excuse you feel seasick and have Harry come to the bathroom with you where he fucks you good against the counter top.

You and Harry decided one way to celebrate Love On Tour ending was to rent a yacht for the day and take it on the water with a couple of his friends and family. The day you chose to sail on the waters was beautiful. The sky was nice and blue and the Italian heat was hot but not too hot. The sight of your gorgeous husband was also making the view ten times better, but that's just your opinion.

Everyone on the yacht was having a great time. Some were laying out to tan. Others were sitting around with wine coolers, chatting to one another. Harry, being the man who brought everyone together today, was going around and trying to spread his attention.

First having a laugh with his long time Italian friends who are actually a gay married couple which you both attended their wedding three years ago. Then sitting beside his sister Gemma and her long time boyfriend, Michal. Of course Harry pays attention to you as well, asking if you're alright and bringing you another drink when you mention being parched.

About two hours into your yacht ride your phone buzzes in your hands. You didn't really have cell service in the ocean so you thought that was weird. But when you checked to see who texted you, you realized it wasn't a text. It was a notification from your fertility tracking app that tells you when you're most fertile and need to try for a baby.

See, for a few months now you and Harry have been trying to get pregnant. You knew his tour was ending in July and thought it would be the perfect time for you to settle down for a while and have a baby.

At first you just had sex willy nilly to get pregnant, but after several negative pregnancy tests, decided to download an app to help tell you when you're most fertile. Though not every time you have sex is with the sole mission of a baby. Sometimes you just have sex for simply the intimacy aspect.

Fuck, you internally curse. How the hell are you gonna fuck your husband while you're on a yacht surrounded by his friends and family. Thinking for a minute you come up with a plan. You can fake being seasick so he has an excuse to go down to the bathrooms with you and do some quick baby making without anyone batting an eye.

Knowing it's now or never, you fake grown and cry out, "Harry..."

He looks over at you from where he's sitting beside his sister and asks, "Yeah, love? What's the matter?"

Not exactly wanting the whole boat to know you're seasick, you wave him over to you. Harry gets up imidiantly and stalks over towards where you're sat on the side edge of the yacht. When he's close enough, you whine, "Just feeling a bit seasick. Can you take me to the toilets on the bottom level, please?"

"Yeah, of course, baby." Harry is quick to agree. The genuine worry on his face makes you feel bad for lying. But you know you won't feel bad in a few minutes when his cock is deep inside of you.

He takes ahold of your hand and very quickly steps over to Gemma to inform someone, "Hey, Y/N is feelin' a bit ill. M'gonna take her to the toilets. Hopefully we won't be gone long."

Gemma frowns and replies sweetly, "Awe, that's fine. Hope you feel better soon, Y/N." You mouth a "thank you" and tug Harry's arm in the direction of the stairs that lead to the bottom floor of the yacht.

While on your journey to the bathroom, Harry kindly asks, "When did you start to feel sick? You could have told me sooner and I would have seen if I could've borrowed a motion sickness pill off someone for you." How did you get so lucky to have married such a pure and sweet man.

Before you answer, you barge in the one toilet bathroom and Harry is fully ready to hold your hair back while you vomit. But instead, is taken back when you turn around and kiss his lips hard with need. "Baby....... what, thought you were gonna be sick?" he mutters confusedly against your mouth.

You pull away, breathing heavy and respond, "I lied. I needed an excuse to have you come down here with me and fuck me. Got the notification on my fertility app saying my fertile window is open and now is the best time to try and conceive. I need you to fuck me and come inside me. Right now."

Harry tosses his head back and says, "Fuck!" rather loudly. Though he is a bit uneasy about potentially getting caught having sex on this yacht, he could never pass up the opportunity to fuck his sexy wife and give her a baby. "Well, okay then. Do you need, like, warming up first or..." He's fully ready to eat you out or finger you for a minute to get you fully aroused if you needed that.

Harry's too kind sometimes. Always thinking of your wellbeing and needs. You laugh and grab his hand to lower it to the front of your swimsuit. "No, babe. Seeing you in these tight, green swim trunks has had me wet for hours, see." His fingers come in contact with your clothed wet pussy and that has him hardening right up.

"Alright, turn around and lean over the sink f'me." Harry instructs and you do as told. This yacht's bathroom is rather small but you'll make it work. You've had sex in much smaller spaces before but those are stories for another time. Harry drops to his knees and as he goes to slide your bikini bottoms down your legs, he kisses over your ass cheeks and the back of your thighs.

"Harry, we don't have time for that, just put a baby in me. Hurry." you grumble. You're far too impatient for him to tease you right now. You just need him to fuck you.

As he stands back up and drops his green swim trunks to his ankles, Harry retorts, "Alright, stop being bratty. I'll give you what you want. Know I always do, m'love." He takes ahold of his now very hard cock and gives it a few strokes to make sure its fully erect for you. When it is, he helps spread your legs how he thinks would work best for this position and leans over your back, carefully nudging his dick in your soaked hole with the guidance of his right hand.

"Ohh, Harry!" you can't help but moan while he's pushing all the way in and that causes him to slap his left hand over your mouth to silence you.

"Love," he says from behind you're body, "gotta stay quiet. Can't risk anyone hearing us." You nod your head in understanding and bite your lip to silence yourself when you feel him bottom out. Then without warning, Harry pulls his hips back, leaving just the tip inside your cunt, before slamming forward.

The hand Harry had over your mouth has moved down to your neck. Not with the intentions to necessarily choke you, though he is applying slight pressure, but more so to help you stay upright and look at yourself in the mirror. The scene of Harry fucking you from behind has got you even more turned on than before. The way his tan skin is glistening with sweat. The way his curly hair has fallen over his forehead. The way Harry is looking right into your eyes from over your shoulders in the mirror. It's all so intense.

After a couple of minutes, Harry can feel the knot in his stomach tighten and he knows he's about to come. Your tight pussy just feels so good hugging his cock. Wanting to see if you were up there with him, he questions in heavy pants, "Are you close? M'bout to come. Just feels so - fuckin' - good, Y/N!"

You nod and squeak out, "Yeah, I'm close too, H." Knowing you may need a little bit of extra help, he takes his right hand that he had stationed on your hip for stability and reaches in front of you until he finds your clit. When he does, he begins rubbing the nerve in tight circles and that's exactly what pushes you over the edge. That and his cock rubbing against your g-spot from this angle. You nearly fall forward because as you come your legs give out and if Harry wasn't pressed up behind you, you're sure you would have collapsed onto the boats floor.

"Ah, God!!!" you gasp while waves of pleasure roll through your body. Your orgasm triggers Harry's and he shoots his load as deep as he can inside of you. His hips falter their movements and he has to bite down on your shoulder to quiet himself from the moans he's dying to let out.

Slowly, everything comes to a stop and you're both left sweaty and panting for air in this small yacht bathroom. Harry carefully removes his hand from your throat and you slowly start to lean forward over the counter top again. The movement causes you to accidently pulse around his softening cock and he curses in slight pain. "Fuckin' hell."

"Sorry, sorry." you repeat out of breath and Harry shushes you by gently responding, "It's alright. Gonna pull out now and then I'll help you up on the counter so my cum doesn't drip on the floor." You nod and Harry carefully pulls his dick out your pussy and turns you around to lift you up on the small countertop beside the sink.

Now face to face, Harry can't help but to lean forward and plant a kiss to your lips. The kiss stays soft and airy. But knowing people above is bound to become concerned with how long you've been down here, you whisper, "Love you. Thank you for coming down here with me and I hope we made a little baby. Can't wait for our family to grow."

Harry nearly cries and gets hard again at the same time with all this baby talk. "Y/N, no need to thank me. Love you so much and would do anything to give us a baby. Even if that means break away from my friends and family to fuck my wife in a yacht's bathroom in the Italian ocean."

---------------------------

Harry helped you get cleaned up and properly dressed again as well as redress himself. Then you both walk hand in hand back up to the top deck again where everyone looks at you with concern. Gemma's the first to come up to you and asks, "Feeling better, love? You can have a sickness pill if you need one? I always bring extra."

Feeling bad for everyone's genuine concern on your sea sickness but also happy you weren't actually sea sick, you decline, "Oh, no thank you. I'm feeling much better now. Your brother is a great doctor."

Everyone continues to have a great time. Laughing and enjoying the summer sun. Until Brad, Harry's friend and personal trainer comes up behind you and gasps, "Y/N, why is there a bite mark on your shoulder? Are you alright?" Your eyes go wide and Harry who heard the entire interaction goes pale in front of you. To the point he looks as though he may actually get sea sick.

"Um, um.." you stutter. Well fuck, how do you explain they're your husbands teeth marks from where he bit your shoulder to conceal his moans while coming inside of you to give you a baby.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe14  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 2/2

summary: Wade tests out his previous hypothesis with great success. Might experiment more later.

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 3.6k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blowjob, itty bitty blood mention, slight angst, nightmares/PTSD, pining, cursing, claws, crude humor and language, fluff, touching, *cue start of something new from high school musical*, Wade's a little shit, cum drinking bc i guess that's what happened, deepthroating, lowkey face fucking, bad flirting but it's kinda reciprocated, wade is the throat goat next question, wade kissed his roommate and they both liked it

a/n: here she is :') thanks yall for the patience and all of the magnificent love and comments for part one ❤❤❤ means the world to me, especially since it's my first time stepping out of stucky territory as a whole. also got a little away with the tags 😅 hope yall enjoy this !

Not beta'd. Half-written on my phone, edited and revised in ellipsus + gdocs. Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

Wade forgot to turn the AC back on. 

It's his turn to sleep in bed tonight and he's got the worst case of swamp ass you can get this far from a fucking swamp. He's already thrown the covers, sheets, pillows, and his boxers off; he swears if he gets up there will be a sweaty version of a goddamn chalk outline on his mattress. 

He stretches. Notices he can feel both hands now, fully grown and everything, fingernails and all. Smirks to himself as he flexes his new fingers before reaching over to the nightstand– it's actually a really sturdy cardboard box, but it works just as good– for his phone. The screen responds with a bright 3:02AM overlayed on a photo of him and Vanessa. 

There's a pang in his heart for a moment. The same type of twist and pull he felt when Logan got up to leave after their big adventure (AKA saving their universe.)

“See you around?”

Wade tried to swallow the hard lump of desperate hope that had been bubbling inside of him the entire time they ate their shawarma. Hopes it wasn't obvious in his voice. Not a total cry for help, but definitely more of a solemn whimper and puppy dog eyes.

No matter how many times he was used to it– the people he loved leaving or dying or what have you– it still stung like a bitch. 

“Probably not.”

And Logan didn't mean for it to come out so harshly, but that's what happened when– and if– he got too close. To anyone. To everyone. 

With that, Logan rose from the bench, gathering his cowl and TVA jacket up from the place on the bench separating him and Wade and started walking. Dogpool whined and scratched at Wade's arms to chase after him. 

Wade had to do something. Anything. He couldn't let this one– this Logan. His Logan– walk off into the sunset.

No.

Not without him. 

“Logan!” 

And then he turned around. 

And now they're here. 

He feels a similar yank and tear elsewhere in his body– lower belly, groin area– whenever thoughts wander back to that glorious time in the Honda Odyssey; Adamantium stabbing in and out of his chest cavity, puncturing his lungs and literally taking his breath away. The tight feeling of multiple seat belts holding him down to the second row passenger seat and the sickeningly happy grin adorning Logan's face when he tied the last knot. Wade remembers smiling just as bright under his mask.

That one definitely got filed into ye ole spank bank for safe keeping.

Sighing, Wade remembers he's sweating like a hog and drops his legs over the edge, planting two clammy feet onto the creaky floorboards. He throws on his previously discarded pair of boxers just in case Logan has a case of insomnia. Gotta take a man out to dinner before you show him your dick, like a gentleman. 

Wade peaks his head out into the living room, TV glow assaulting his pupils like a flash bang. The door creaks open wider and Wade steps further out. He doesn't want to wake either furball– you'd be surprised how grumpy Dogpool gets when she doesn't get her beauty sleep– as he tiptoes out in front of the couch. 

His breath catches in his chest. 

Logan lies propped up on the couch, head resting on the arm with a throw pillow behind for support, arms crossed over a bare, hairy chest rising and falling slowly. A sheen of sweat coats his skin that reflects the changing colors of the TV. Half a snuffed cigar smolders on the coffee table ashtray. The semi-permanent crease between his brows is softer, perfect pink lips parted as he snores quietly.

And to top it all off, he's in his fucking boxers; his jeans are discarded on the opposite end of the couch, kicked off in his sleep to beat the heat.

Wade can't breathe. He can't help but stare, committing the heavenly scene to memory. A knowing smile slowly spreads across his chapped lips.

He's happy. Happy at how peaceful his roommate looks. Happy that Logan is finally feeling safe enough to sleep here. Genuinely. Wade knows first hand what it can be like to be constantly on the run, chasing peace and release, rest and safety. 

Tip toes make way to the thermostat, Wade presses the 'on' button to the AC when there's stirring behind him. Head turning slowly, he catches the tail end of Logan mumbling something in his sleep. 

“...Wade, please.” 

Wade freezes like a carjacker caught in an impound lot. Surely he didn't hear Logan, his roommate Logan– The X-Man, The Wolverine– fucking whining Wade's name in his sleep. 

What were the symptoms of heat stroke, again? 

Wade shuffles back over to the couch. Feels like a creep watching his fucking roommate sleep, waiting another moment to see if he needs to take a power drill and give himself a DIY lobotomy or not. 

“Mm… No, Wade…No, please, don't–” Logan murmurs softly. Struggling, brow furrowing, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Ngh… Don't hurt ‘im… please.” 

Logan begins to shake. His head whips from side to side against the pillow, hands dig into the couch cushions, grunting, fists clenching as his claws itch to defend from the phantom threat. Muscles tensing and chest heaving, his breathing grows harder, faster, more frantic. 

He's having a nightmare.

Wade recognizes the signs immediately. He knows where Logan's at: some distant memory with talons and sharp teeth assaulting his brain without him knowing. Hell on earth on the worst nights, a light ego beating and insomnia on the better ones.

Wade knows– his stopped two months ago. When Logan came home.

Without another thought– one in which he probably should’ve given– Wade climbs onto the couch to straddle Logan’s hips in the most non-horny way he can make it. Hands press into the center of Logan's chest. He gently calls his name, preparing for the sharp stab of Adamantium through an appendage and/or organ. Nothing he isn't used to at this point, but he secretly prays it isn't something totally major.

“Logan. Peanut, hey,” Wade whispers. He presses further into Logan, heat radiating off rough, hairy skin into Wade's tingling fingers. “Logan, it's me, Wade. You're having a nightmare, you’re scaring the kids–” 

SHNK. Intestines. Ten or fifteen points, depending on if it's big or small.  Wade's thankful it wasn't a kidney or his stomach– those are a bitch and a half to grow back.

“Okay– that was maybe warranted,” Wade grunts. Both sets of claws penetrate straight through his lower abdomen as Logan jolts awake, sitting up as much as he can while pinned under Wade. A gnarled scream catches in his throat. White-hot knuckles graze the skin of Wade's stomach, who is really, really trying his hardest not to get a boner right now. 

“Th’fuck's goin’ on?” Logan slurs, face inches from Wade's bare chest. He blinks. Once. Twice. His brow returns to its permanent crease as he adjusts to the scene before him: bright TV glow contrasts with dark shadows Wade casts over him.

Wade is on top of him and his claws are inside of Wade.

Face scrunching– not inherently in disgust, Wade hopes– claws retract with a muted grunt. Wade can breathe again while his body begins repairing itself. His hands are stuck to Logan's heaving chest, fingers fanning out over each delicious pec. Thick arms rest on either side of him, elbows bent and resting on Wade's thighs.

Wade swallows, praying the man currently underneath him either A. doesn't know where his hands are at the moment or B. this is going exactly the way he wet-dreamt it a few weeks ago. Completely unprompted too, by the way– he's no stranger to the sick side effects of PTSD, he wouldn't knowingly exploit that in order to get into his roommate's pants. He's got more class than that.

Well, most of the time, that is. Again, completely unintentional. Coincidence, if you will.

Maybe he does need that DIY lobotomy.

"Where th'hell am I?" Logan asks, voice less threatening and more alert. His eyes flick from the TV and travel up Wade to meet sympathetic chocolate eyes already on him. Wade peels each finger off Logan's chest and sits back on his knees. Gaze softening, hands fall into his lap inches above the chiseled V pointing to down under Logan's boxers. He doesn't dare move a fucking muscle.

His pinky finger twitches.

"You're okay. You're here, in my world, Peanut. Twenty-first century. New York. We use fifty-cals now, not muskets. You were having a nightmare–"

Wade's throat hitches. He's not gonna cry, no– he's not that much of a fucking empath, for chrissake– but what he wants to say versus what he probably should say get lodged together on the way down to his mouth from his brain.

"I– I did the pressure thing Dogpool does with me, sometimes. Except I thought you'd wanna wake up to this pretty face 'nd not one with drool."

Logan looks skeptical, searches Wade to see if he's actually telling the truth for once, features relaxing once he mulls it over in his head. Wade's gnawing at the inside of his cheek when Logan's thumbs subconsciously start rubbing slow circles over the toughened skin of his upper thigh. Upper-outer, to be exact, but right now Wade doesn't really want to dwell on the minute details.

"So," Logan starts, "you woke me up… 'cause I was havin' a nightmare…?"

"Well, not exactly because you were having a nightmare, no." Wade runs a hand over the top of the couch, distracting himself. "Al really likes this couch. Antique, actually. Vintage find. Be a shame if some man with claws–"

Logan's palms press into Wade's thighs. A warning.

"Mouth."

Wade sighs. Hands fall into his lap once more and he is absolutely not fighting to gawk at Logan's V that lights up like a road work sign pointing to a detour. The semi-hard abs just above definitely do not make him want to run his fucking tongue across them like a cheese grater.

He looks back to Logan, clears his throat. "Look I– I've been there. Am there, honestly. Didn't want you t'be alone whenever you woke up, but I also know how hard it is to wake up. So," he shrugs, voice lowering, "thought I'd help. Help you come down from it, I mean."

Logan stares back in response, eyes trained on Wade like a hunting dog and a downed fox. Wade swears the corner of his lip twitches along with the meaty hands on his legs.

He's gotta get the fuck out of here.

"So!" Wade starts, "Seems everything's in working order. The doctor will be in soon–" Wade starts to scramble off before realizing Logan's holding him down. Sharp claw stubs poke into scarred skin and a deep growl rumbles out of Logan's chest. Not necessarily threatening, no, more of a 'you're not goin' anywhere.' Wade gulps, hands raise up jokingly, forcing his racing mind to think of a naked, cross-country skiing Al to stave off the blood violently rushing to his stubborn cock.

Logan sits up, closing the space between him and Wade. Hazel eyes study wide brown ones. Logan takes a breath, shaky but sure.

"Don't want y't'go. Not– not yet."

It's hesitant. Unsure but curious, quiet enough Wade thinks he's hallucinating again. Wade mulls it over, leans forward with hands back on Logan's chest, skin and muscles taught underneath with tactile tension.

Wade sucks in a breath, moves his hands higher to Logan's collarbone and it's grossly apparent how tense Logan is. Hostile to any sudden movement, untrusting of touch to the point his fists shake against Wade's legs. A slow, tender hand inches up Logan's throat and onto his cheek. Wade feels through the rough facial hair and unkempt stubble, a thumb finds the shaved spot at the point of Logan's chin and strokes gently. Fists start to unclench, but there's a hesitancy still lingering in the air, under Logan's skin. Wade thinks it smells like fear. Inches away, face to face, breaths fan eachother's faces.

There's a shift in the air and Wade leans forward.

Logan doesn't stop Wade from connecting them together, lips touching lips in the softest manner possible. Almost feels like there's nothing there, Wade's too gentle. Nobody moves, breathes, at first; they're each trying to make sense of what the fuck exactly is happening. Logan isn't saying no, isn't sawing through Wade's skull and Wade isn't pushing himself on Logan.

Okay, maybe leaning in to kiss his roommate might be pushing himself on Logan to the logical bystander, but in the moment it just felt right.

To Wade's surprise, Logan's the first to move.

His lips start molding into Wade's. There's pressure, a little pushing, chapped skin and the remnants of tobacco on his breath when his lips part and his tongue pokes ever-so-slightly through. Wade pushes back, hoping his breath isn't as abhorrently delicious as leftover cigar. He tilts his head, nose poking into Logan's cheek as his does Wade's, and lets his tongue explore a little more. Logan allows him in, meeting him at the tip and hungrily welcoming him. Breaths turn heavy, panting, while hands begin to roam, more comfortable now that they've crossed the line into 'spit swapping' territory.

Wade drinks him in. Greedily swallows the choked-back groans Logan keeps holding in his throat that come out as muted mewls. Fingernails wantonly dig into one another and leave temporary marks that disappear under rapid replacement cells.

It feels like forever when Wade finally comes up for air, unable to focus with the growing hardness digging into his thigh.

"I–fuckin' shit– I think I have an idea." Wade pants like a dog in heat– and fuck, he might as well be at this point. Logan pulls back with lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

"'s that?" He's hesitant. Hands tense slightly over Wade's back, his whole body stiffens.

"Do you– do you trust me?"

Wade holds his breath.

Logan only nods. Adam's apple bobbing, lips part in anticipation and curiosity.

Wade strokes Logan's cheek in reassurance, shoots him a wink before shimmying down his body to the other end of the couch, keeping Logan's legs in between his thighs. Fingers hook around Logan's boxers, in turn causing Logan to jolt up immediately. A set of claws unsheathe an inch away from Wade's throat.

"Th'fuck are you doin'?"

Wade only smiles, taking a hand away and kissing the tip of the middle claw, gently pushing it back into Logan's fist and coaxing him to lay back down. What he's about to do would be easier with an in-tact esophagus.

"Relax, Peanut," Wade coos, "'m not gonna hurtcha."

Logan stares at Wade. Eyes pinch, still suspicious.

"…Promise?"

A sharp pang ripples through Wade's heart.

"Promise."

Logan hesitates, relaxes, gives another go-ahead. Wade's fingers curl once again around the waistband of his boxers and slowly, but surely, pull them down and off him. He can't help the immediate salivatory reflex upon seeing Logan in all his glory; the deep V lights up like a fucking Vegas sign pointing straight to the jackpot.

Logan's big– like, big big. Biggest Wade's ever seen (and Wade's seen a LOT.) An automatic response, Wade's asshole clenches, mistakenly preparing to take Logan. Wade forces himself to relax– that's not happening tonight. He promised Logan he'd go slow, no surprises, no whipped cream or leather cuffs.

Not yet, at least.

His own cock weeps happy tears through his briefs. He cannot believe how perfect– how beautiful– how fucking huge Logan is.

"What're you gonna do?" Logan whispers, hesitant eyes hooking on Wade and every little movement he makes.

"If it's alright with you, 1972 Burt Reynolds, 'm gonna suck every ounce of tension out of your perfect, hairy body and make you feel the best you've felt in a looong time."

Logan scoffs a laugh, brow furrowing as he shakes his head slightly. "Don't know who–"

Wade shushes him. "Don't worry, baby girl. I'll be your Sally Field."

Wade smirks at Logan's confusion and mentally makes a note to his future-self to show Logan the glory that is Smokey and the Bandit.

A gentle hand steadies the base of Logan's cock while another slowly wraps around his stiffness, standing at attention and beginning to cry, begging for Wade's touch. Heavy breathing and bitten-back grunts fill Wade's ears. It's a heavenly symphony he's lucky enough to have a front and center seat for. Free ticket, too.

"Ngh– Red, whatever you're gonna do– ah–!"

Wade presses his lips to the base, bush of hair tickling his nose and lips while he kisses his way up to the head, tongue poking out to lap up the precum. Before siccing his lips around Logan, Wade looks up once more, mostly searching for permission to help him feel pleasure for once instead of pain.

Logan reads Wade's mind and sends a small nod in response.

With a shit-eating smirk, Wade welcomes Logan into his mouth, flattening his tongue and curving his lips over his teeth so as not to scratch the sensitive, velvety skin. Drool spills out the corners of Wade's mouth and swallows a gag when Logan jams into the back of his throat, digging into his uvula. Squeezing the base and cupping the balls, Wade begins to bob his head to the rhythm of Logan's mess of 'fuck's, 'shit's, and–

"Mmm–Oh–oh, my god," Logan moans. A calloused hand runs over Wade's bald head, scars and grafts rippling under his touch while another hand grips tightly onto the side of the couch. Wade slurps up every drop of precum, relishing in the sweet musk of Logan's scent, head bobbing and tongue swirling in tandem. Logan's hips buck up into Wade, fucking his throat without meaning to. No amount of lozenges or peppermint tea will be able to cure the sore throat Wade knows he'll have come morning.

"F–fuck, Wade, baby– shit– that feels so–!"

Another lengthy dive down onto Logan hits the very back of Wade's throat, pulling a long, strenuous 'fuck' from the deepest part of Logan. He bucks harder into Wade who stalls, choking on Logan's cock while his own strains against his briefs. Another swipe of tongue, another gag and seeping drool, and Logan is officially done for.

"F–fuck! Motherfucker! Oh my, god, Wade–!"

Curses and chants and shaky breaths fill the living room as Logan spills into Wade with an 'O' on his lips and a hand on the back of Wade's head. There's a sharp shngk and a sting at the tip of Wade's ear as red warmth drips down onto Logan's thigh; his claws unsheathe into the couch this time, not Wade, who slurps and sucks every last drop of mutant cum from Logan's softening cock like it's the Fountain of fucking Eden.

He comes up for air, finally, lungs gasping against a swollen, fucked throat. He sits back panting on his thighs and Logan's legs underneath, a mix of cum and drool and the slightest bit of blood running down his cheeks and neck. Wiping away the mess with the back of a hand, blurry vision focuses back into reality and onto his roommate.

His roommate. Logan. Wolverine. Who's dick he just sucked the ever-living hell out of.

Well this is awkward.

Wade swallows, offers a crooked half-smile to the man who he just sucked, fucked, and milked dry.

"How 'bout them Yankees?"

Logan barks a laugh. A real, genuine laugh, one with teeth and spread lips and legitimate amusement. Wade preens.

"That was–" Logan wipes beads of sweat off his brow, "Fuck it. That was fuckin' amazing, Wade." He stuffs a hand behind his head, blinks a couple of times to recalibrate. "Didn't know that mouth did anything else 'sides talk."

Wade shrugs cutesily. "It impresses me sometimes, too. Helps when I have a willing participant. Just hope you signed the paperwork."

Logan shakes his head. Arms reach up to grab onto Wade, pulling an ear to Logan's lips.

"Now how 'bout we take care of you next, baby? Hm?"

\|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/

Morning sun and a weight on his chests wakes Logan from probably the most peaceful sleep he's had in… well, ever, honestly.

There's a wetness and mix of smells wafting into his nostrils that make him stir next; combination of what feels like a tongue on his cheek making way towards his lips, dog breath, and the sweet smell of something cooking in the kitchen. Eyes fly open when a whine vibrates on his chest, finding himself greeted by Dogpool wagging her rat-tail with eyes bugging out of her little head.

"Gah– get off me, mutt," Logan scolds, sitting up and gently shoving Dogpool onto the couch cushion next to him. He runs a hand over his face and into his hair, the crick in his neck a little less noticeable this morning.

"Gooooood morning, sunshine!"

Logan looks up with tired eyes still adjusting to the morning light to find Wade in his robe covered in flour with a mixing bowl cradled in his arm as he stirs. Last night comes screeching back to Logan as soon as he locks eyes with his roommate, mouth going dry and dick twitching in his boxers.

Wade only smiles, not at all hiding his obvious glance at Logan's crotch. "You want chocolate chips or blueberries in yours?"

Logan shakes his head. "In my what?"

"Pancakes, Peanut. In your pancakes."

"Oh. Yeah." Logan blinks, then scoffs a laugh to himself. "Yeah, Mouth. I'd, ah– blueberries. I'd like blueberries."

[hoffmansgirl]

Honestly, I’m getting tired. It’s literally bts pics from a tv show. He’s not even playing Jesus in the show. People are just looking for a reason to hate him at this point and it’s really pathetic. I was not okay with him posing with those guys and I felt like people had a genuine reason to be upset with him, but I also thought double standards were rearing its ugly head again. Let’s get mad at nick for posing with guys dressed as Lyle and Erik but let’s like and repost thirst edits of Nick and Cooper made up of scenes from a show where they play … Lyle and Erik Menendez. People are holding him to a standard that other celebrities aren’t held to. He can’t do anything without people picking him apart and “canceling” him. It’s honestly annoying.

YES YES YES 🗣️ louder for the cunts in the back!

nicholas chavez is not problematic.

so. i actually feel so bad for him because it must be so hard. he's just gotten popular how long ago... a month? two? and people are trying to cancel him so bad.

he can't do ANYTHING without getting hate - first people started bringing up his love life - since when is it anyone's business? calling him a bop, a man whore. people are feeling way too comfortable nowadays.

next ━ "nicholas doesn't support the brothers", "he doesn't give a fuck" ━ how can YOU know that. he doesn't owe anyone a ny thing. he doesn't need to be as vocal as cooper is about it ━ as i wrote in here aaand here. i honestly won't even talk about it anymore after this post because it's fucking annoying.

the picture with the dicks dressed as menendez brothers ━ disgusting. i'm not gonna defend this one because well. he could have refused to take it. he's a grown ass man, for gods sake. although, as i mentioned before, he is HUMAN. he is LEARNING how to be a big star, what he should and should not do. let's not pretend we are all angels, bffr. we all make mistakes, and sometimes we don't even realise we do something that might be considered wrong.

now... the (hot) god damn pictures... can we stop being so sensitive and fucking annoying!!!!!! 😁 i saw that post and thought that he looks so good, the brat dance made me smile sooo much ━ then i saw the comments... he is not. mocking. religion. he is not mocking your beliefs or your god.

"cancelling" an actor for being an... actor is fucking embarrassing. i just have to laugh.

why is everyone so obsessed with this man, with everything he does? why are haters the first ones in his comment section? god, even i am not that fast and i'm fucking obsessed with the guy. come on... people just hate to hate.

and! surprise! he doesn't owe you an apology ━ if you're offended by the pictures ━ because it's just the show. people think he dressed up as jesus for halloween... do your fucking research. read the caption. stop harassing the poor man i swear 😭

in this house we don't hate on nick ━ of course he needs to be held accountable for the menendez brothers picture, no explanation needed ━ but nothing else.

it's kinda funny because my man is just working, being an introvert and people think he's a soulless narcissist.

i guess people just hate rich, popular and hot men that live their best life... i kinda feel sorry for them, ngl.

and one more thing before i finish... nicholas' love life. the insults i've seen online are so concerning. why are people so comfortable to comment on other people's relationships? why do people believe everything they see on tiktok or twitter? calling him a "man whore" is wayyyy too much. like let this man breathe around another woman? or have female friends? god forbid talk to another woman...

i don't want to comment on his girlfriend because... i want need her man, why would i even talk about her 😭 i have my own opinion but lemme just not...

woof woof i'm yapping. but yes anon, i agree with you. 100%.

and finally! if u wanna talk about it (or just talk about nicholas...) then my dms are open!

and remember!!!! to treat people with kindness ♡ 🫧

(celebrities are also people).

[phoenixyfriend]

Hey have a fun AU I came up with the other day after reading a bunch of fics with related tropes

It's a raised Sith AU. Anakin was found by Sidious well before he was found by Qui-Gon. He was raised by the Sith, is a classically horrible monster stalking about TCW to be Vader (mask and all, just as an intimidation factor instead of life support) while Ventress and Grievous and Dooku do their own things in a different section of the war. He's got a Really Fucking Weird dynamic with Obi-Wan, mostly attempting to kill him etc.

At some point, Palpatine allows Anakin and Padme to meet. The romance that blooms is one that Sheev decides is useful to him, so he lets it happen.*

Padme gets pregnant. Sidious arranges for her death. Anakin loses his entire shit and tries to kill Sidious. Obi-Wan is off trying to save Padme, unaware of Anakin getting his remaining limbs cut off by his this-universe Master. (This is important, because Anakin does remember Obi-Wan trying to save Padme.)

So we have Anakin, who was raised Sith, and just lost the only things that have mattered to him since his mom died when he was a kid, and Palpatine has pushed him further into the Dark than he ever has. Anakin… knows more about the Sith Secrets in this universe.

Anakin finds a Sithly Time Machine. Maybe on Malachor. There's an owl? Whatever.

Anakin, someone who's been Vader for the vast majority of his life, wakes up at age nine. Maybe even younger, like six. His mother is already dead at Sidious's hands. He's already roommates with Maul. He's already being trained as a baby Sith.

Anakin, being a 20 year old war veteran, is much better at escaping than Sidious has planned for. He reprograms a medical droid to take out his slave chip, steals a ship, etc. All the stuff that Maul wasn't very good at, and Anakin was too young for, so Sidious didn't have the preventative measures in place for yet.

Anakin heads for the one place and person he thinks he can trust: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(Obi-Wan is still a padawan. But this Baby Sith just declared him Adoptive Teen Dad, so.)

@lizasweetling (all indented bits from here will be hers):

Because Sith. Bad for mental health of the user and generally bad for their environs But also baby. And if hes dragging Maul around no doubt the dude is constantly himself confused why he is here Like yeah, Sidious sucked, and this 6-9yo is way powerful and knowledgeable on the dark side (?????) But why are we going to the Jedi? And not even trying to kill them apparently?????

Anakin is very much being affected by Baby Brain and Baby Endocrine System. He cries a lot more than he should.

I WASN'T THINKING OF HIM BRINGING MAUL BUT YEAH. THAT'S. THAT'S A POSSIBILITY.

Jedi Council trying to decide if this is more "Adult Sith got shrunk" or "child got evil man's memories." Vader wants to know why it even MATTERS. (He didn't actually plan on telling them, but he has very little self control right now.)

The first Good Act he does is tell them where to find Ventress and Ky. (In the original timeline, he viewed Ventress as like. Cool older cousin.)

Vader's right, that distinction does not matter Aaaw, she deserves that, that's nice Maybe she will be like 20% less homocidally traumatized

Anakin is furious when Maul and Obi-Wan pick him up under one arm like a package. He is a GROWN MAN he is an ADULT he was a SITH LORD and about to be a FATHER, he is TOO OLD FOR THIS.

They point out that he is Baby.

😂 sorry lord of evil, you're too baby, have a nap and maybe your feel better. Assuming the crisis on Naboo is still happening, and as such the vote of no confidence is right now, it might be a great time to report Sidious as a Sith lord. Post-escape from Sidious, both he and Maul definitely will need a nap. It's that kinda place.

Oh, it's probably at least a year before. Anakin keeps trying to sneak off to kill the man himself, but the Jedi are more ready for his Sneaking than Mustafar was, so he keeps getting caught before he can reach the Senate.

At one point he tries to just CHARGE the place and you get Mace and Obi-Wan sprinting after him. The News captures videos of this very small child getting chased by an older Padawan and a Master and they are mostly yelling for him to PUT DOWN THE SABER.

(Sidious might see him but what's he going to do? Might cause too many problems for Sidious to be aware of Anakin's presence with the Jedi, though. Best not.)

It's probably more expensive on average to hire an assassin on a child, just in general But on a jedi youngling??? If he can even find someone to do that, it will be so very, ridiculously expensive And likely 70%+ upfront payments

Ahsoka definitely seeks him out. Toddler baby child. She adores him for reasons unclear to anyone and everyone.

!!! Baby has baby!! Vader's probably a little thrown by this. Been a while subjectively since someone just loved him. And not even for like, a reason. Baby Vader coerced into sitting obediently for nap by tired kiddo: [The council liked that]

The number of times that vader could only be convinced to nap by Obi-Wan grabbing him, caging him in his own lap, and forced to Sit Quietly until he just fell asleep like that...

He has things to do, he's not tired 😡😡😡💢 (He's 9. Distances are between 150 and 195% longer when measured with steps, he's hungry (subjectively) all the time, and has only middling coordination He so is too tired)

Anakin doesn't know Qui-Gon at all but he keeps getting stuffed into the man's top because he's just. Small enough to fit.

Like the bomb boobs gif, but it's a small child.

the indignity

You just. You can't let him get too self-important.

Vader is Disgusted every time the pediatric healers try to talk down to him like they do to other 6yos.

The difference between this and other "Vader goes back in time to the Jedi" AUs (like Force of Many Sights) is that this Vader has never been a Jedi, and doesn't know anything about them except how they fight when he's trying to kill their friends.

Also Maul's there.

Because even he has a hard time taking himself seriously when hes so easy to manhandle Rest of the time; I am fear, I am death personified As luggage child: I am so small. The tiniest. I crave violence He's probably very annoyed they keep taking away his saber And hey! Obi gets practice not losing his! Woooo!

Something something Anakin clinging to Maul's back (piggy back ride) and chewing on his head or something stupid like that. Perfect height for head biting.

You know, the classic anime head bite

Maul probably has been nominally talked into this because this 9yo is a powerful darksider But he is also the world's most annoying tiny kid Maul would've thought his phenotype would make him immune to this ridiculousness He was wrong At least the teeth are a bit less pointy than his other little brothers'? Appreciating the little things

tfw your unwanted little brother drags you to what you think is a cult but actually they're way less culty than your last two places so you just stick around to keep an eye on the little shit

Anyway. ObiMaul for this one.

They're peers They're tired They just want to sit down and not have to chase this weird little murder child They have a lot in common 😊

They are all just a little bit stupid, I love them.

Qui-Gon is a Cool Mom (throws condoms at them and books it).

Yeah, that's about as much involvement as would be appreciated They probably did a lot of sparring before the tension broke Which did not relieve said tension, generally made it worse (Competence, athleticism, sweat-) Vader is confused, but probably doesn't mind He's probably glad they're distracting each other from stopping assassinating a certain someone (Which- that is 9yo hubris. He would need help to do that)

I still can't decide where on 6yo-9yo he falls but somewhere in there

Babies means easier hiding in shirt, teenie Ahsoka, and longer for him to convince the Jedi council to do a Sith hunt before the Naboo situation

Also longer for Maul and Obi-Wan to faff about being all Tension

* Vaguely inspired by the backstory of Rulebreaker/Wildheart, which is great but significantly more of a romance fic than this.

[lehnsherrrr]

Let’s talk about the writing of Charles Xavier.

Okay, so we all hate the way everyone turned on Charles in DP, right? But it’s not based on nothing, you gotta hear me out rn.

Charles means well, and does mostly well, but he’s still an idiot, he’s still a man.

Yes he does so much good work for the school and for mutants, he lost everything over and over again, but he isn’t perfect.

No one is perfect, and I think the writing and James mcavoys acting manages to make such a human portrayal this way.

Hes not the golden boy, he’s not the shining hero, he has many sides just like a real person.

Of course he’s mostly wonderful, his deepest desire is to enact peace. As child he took in Raven without a second thought, a time in our development when we tend to be less empathetic. You’ve seen the way he cares for Erik and the others, he absolutely means it.

But it’s those little imperfections that make him such a beautiful character.

He’s can be cocky, certainly when he had just gotten his PhD, I now this brat was the top of his class and smug about it.

He’s also allowed to be selfish, he wants Raven, he wants Erik, he wants things desperately.

And sometimes he may have made mistakes when blinded by his ambitions.

Accidentally outing Hank? Kinda shit. Using his powers to make that guy get in the car? Unnecessary.

But he’s allowed to be this way, the writing allows it, and James Mcavoy portrays it perfectly.

This is how you write a character.

He isn’t always that shining beacon of hope, especially in dofp.

Anyone could’ve taken Charles character of “Leader of the xmen, strives for world peace” and made him an absolute angel all of the time. But people don’t work like that.

Charles Xavier gives me the vibe of someone who was an absolute menace during educational years, maybe even a dickhead.

I can see him saying some pretty idiotic shit to people that maybe he was trying to flirt with, maybe even making people feel bad about themselves.

Bro might have even been a bully in the perspective of some; this dashing clever guy who always knows what you’re thinking.

Now I don’t think he was actually a bully, he is a whole nerd after all, but maybe to those even nerdier than him.

Can you imagine another, nerdier, student being like “I fucking hate Charles Xavier and his stupid fucking smug face, why does he have to be top of the class, I hate him.”

And Charles not giving a rats ass about that person.

And now he’s grown, right from the day of getting his PhD, when he met Moira, he began to properly grow.

He’s always been kind at heart, even if his confidence had come across as arrogance. He’d never actually want to cause anyone upset, but it happens, and there are times where he could’ve helped that.

He tries so hard now, every stage of Charles life I expect he looks back on his past self with embarrassment. “God I was an idiot why did I do that, I’m far superior now.”

Charles is probably the most thoroughly human character in the entire franchise, and it rubs off on those around him. Even if none of them are actually human, and I think maybe that’s the point?

That’s the point of the movie. Look at how human the mutants are, and how human the humans aren’t. Of course Charles sees past that, whether he believes it or not, he wants everyone to be equal.

I’m sure you already knew all of this, but people really like it when I yap about the old gay men, so here <3

[mooneggtarts]

Okay what I think about Alastor's mother and both her and Alastor's dynamic that affect him in general (PERSONAL HC)

Now, Alastor's mother; I don't think she's a shit mom, but I also don't think she's a "perfect angel" mom either. She's a mother with a lot of flaws of her own, either from her husband, the society's view in people of color, the year era they live in, or other things.

My thought is that she probably killed her husband when Al was in an age where he doesn't even remember his father's face, but remembers clearly of what his mother did to his dad. And she definitely tries to tell him that what she did was wrong and should not be put as an example.

("Why did you do it if it's wrong then?" "I... because I..have..to... your father isn't a good person sweetheart" kinda thing)

His father *could* actually be bad, which drove his mom to the point of murder, remember the *red* on his mother's hands and on the body laying motionless behind her. (For a moment, Al thinks that red might be his fav color)

Because again, where does Al's sudden murderous tendency come from? I kinda suddenly thought how "your parents are your first teachers" and stuck with that. There COULD be a possibility that she does it to protect him, amongst other things. But it has been stuck in my head for a while.

Having only interact and living his childhood mostly with his mother made him a gentleman and easily/perferably befriended the ladies.

Now about his bitterness towards men, well, I don't think he's *that* bitter with them, considering we knew that he and Vox *used* to hangout before things went south, not to mention his respect towards Zestial. I don't think he knows how to even get along *well* or be comfortable with most males considering, again, his mother being the only figure in his life thing, And well, most of the male cast seem to not really like him, or like him *too* much, or generally doesn't make a good first impression. 

Though I don't think it stems mainly on how his mother killed his father in either defense or resentment of how awful his father had treated her. But I suppose it does involve in some way.

Anyways, I don't think Al's mom really pay any attention to Al's struggle and mostly perhaps told him to just "suck it up" kinda deal during his childhood (Im projecting so hard in this). Cause I think, with him being a mixed, in the 19's on south? Definitely would experience some bullying or being pushed away by another group, kids nonetheless.

Even when Al got home with scars and bruises, his mom would just told him not to fight back, to just take it, cause if he fought back then he'll only make the situation worse, and told him to just endure it and wait, that one day things will get more bearable and perhaps something would change into his favor. Not wanting her son to turn violent like his father, and taint his hands red like her's. Not wanting him to change.

(I have a feeling that the more he grown, the more he feel how.. wrong it is? A slight feel of uneasiness. The feeling of captivation, The way he felt he was held back whenever his mother lovingly embrace him (as if not willing to see him change or grow, afraid of the unknown to who will he became, not ready to lose him if he did, cause she had lost the man she once thought would love her))

I also believe she has that mindset where "big boys don't cry" or "boys are suppose to be strong", which could largely explain Al to have a hard time in expressing his emotions and bottling or repressing them seem like the easier way (which, ofc, led to him unmanaged to properly expressing his emotions- and would be quiet defensive with it). And explained as to why he roughs up the male casts more than the females cause by his view, again, guys could handle a bit of a rough-housing better.

And so for years he had kept his mother's advice, enduring and just let them do whatever they want with him, bearing the loneliness, bottling up his frustration and sadness, forcing himself to keep on standing tall upfront.

But things changed after his mother's death. Things are more confusing for him.

Cause he can recall the pain- he *felt* the grief, the moment when he saw her finally kicked the bucket, but suddenly it's different when it was her funeral.

For some reason he felt numb- detached, for lack of better word. Which I suppose what bothers and confuses him. For how quick he got over her- DID he got over her? He's not sure, he deeply cared and respect her for taking great care of him for years, but he isn't *suppose* to move on so quick yes?

I think that's a whole worth of spiralling breakdown of questioning himself that will never gain an answer of.

Then the house are too empty and too big for him, the first time living without the presence of his mother. Somehow, it felt both uncomfortable and... relief?

Guilt settles in afterward. Somehow everything seems a lot more suffocating than how things are when she's still with him. Like hoping that her lingering shadow of a presence would accompany him, but he doesn't want it to be near him.

I think he'd shut down those kinds of thoughts, cause it disturbs his daily living, and do what he was best at. Repressing everything, ignore them. And just go on with his life pretending to be unbothered.

It bothers him because, he believes he cares for his mother. Loved her even. But there is a part at the back of his mind where he felt... free. Like nothing was holding him back anymore. And thats what bothers him. And I guess at some point, he feels like an ungrateful kid. Cause his mother has done nothing but the best for him, the only person that ever cared about him too. And here he is, feeling a bit of the weight on his shoulder shifted after her passing??? What is wrong with him? 

I feel like he's in denial how the way his mother been teaching him had been wrong, and would DEFINITELY be VERY MUCH REALLY defensive when someone call her out on how wrong she is. Cause she can't be wrong, he doesn't (want to) believe that she's wrong.

I feel like the moment he make his first kill in his human life, and I believe, that his first kill could be either someone that bullied him or some guy that harrassed someone else (my thought went to mimzy for a moment but it makes good sense for that could be how they first met)

And when he painted his hands red, a short flash of image of his mother's first murder as well, and it dawned on him. He had waited all this time, that fate will turn it's favor on him. For years he held back, in the end, the only way for things to turn, is if he *himself* change.

Feeling a strong surge of power like never before. Looking at the harrasser's fear induced face. It felt *good*. To be the *predator* instead. How the tables have turned.

Emotions running through his veins along with adreline, there was guilt that he had disobeyed his mother, there was hatred (which feeds his guilt) how much his mother has held him back from this, there was an overpowering sense of addictive of how much control and power he has in the situation for the first time.

And he finds himself unable to let go of the feeling. Wanting *more*.

I think at this point, he is willing to let go of the love that held him back, he loves his mother dearly, but he is unable to stop breaking every promises and lessons his mother taught him. By then, he hopes, that his mother would forget about him in wherever her soul went. He doesn't seem to mind if his mother doesn't love him anymore, he finds it better that way, she shouldn't be burdened by him cause there is no way he will stop.

He doesn't care if that made him unloved (Love is what holding him back in the first place, held him captive, making him doubt, making him hesitant, pressuring him), or that it made him into a monster. Because for once, despite him drowning too deep into the trench surrounded by his piling up hatred and rage against everyone that wrong him, he can breath.

He felt free.

[beauzos]

think i might have said something to this degree before but it's a shame Beau dies before he ever gets to meet/interact with Mimi. i think they could have kind of an endearing friendship, barring Beau being. yknow. her husband's affair partner KRKFN but ignoring that, she'd probably find him to be very funny and sweet, at least in small doses. i think they'd click to the point Vincent would feel weird about it lol.

i once thought abt an AU where Beau is alive long enough to go to New York n meet Mimi and i think that'd be fun horror all on its own, though. meeting someone that she initially really likes, then getting weird vibes about his relationship to her husband, and then the slow dawning realization of "something is deeply wrong with this man and i'm scared' while Vincent seems to be completely blind to the idea that anything is wrong and there's very little she can do. tis a fun concept. too bad i can't use it

[creepy-friday]

YOOOO THAT WAS SO GOOD 😫

Although I couldn't help but think about the deer in forest watching them do this 💀

But ok, I actually have an idea:

Do you think you can make headcannons (they can have NSFW if you want) about what would happen if the three Proxies actually fell for/grew attracted to Y/N? 👀

Like I think that would be such an interesting concept, the rivalry would go through the roof 😰

But again! Only if you want to!!! 💖

I love this! 👀 inspiration kicked in!

What if the three Proxies would fall for you?

AFAB READER

Warnings:suggestive themes,misogyny,

abuse,mental illness and violence mentions

if you are unfortunate enough to be the object of affection to these 3 gremlins then all I can wish you is good luck!

since you're a proxy you would be mostly  assigned missions with the other minions of Slenderman,on very rare occasions you would work with the other creeps (I will get into that later)

you're also the only feminine presence they come in contact with,I'm also gonna press the fact that they are touch starved men in a manor filled with rapists,mentally ill and paranoic people.Things aren't pretty so I'm not gonna sugarcoat it

altough you're powerful given your rank and all,they are fully grown men.It's NEVER safe to be unarmed when spending time with any of them,including Toby who sometimes gives off the impression of being this sweet lost unfortunate boy

He's also the first one to be delusional enough to think you can be into him given your role to mediate others and to keep things under control.

he doesn't know shit about women,sure he can remember fragments of how his sister used to be,but he can't compare you to her.Given his experience with Clockwork+the constant bullying from Masky, he's insanely insecure

he has a mommy kink

he fell for the way you take care of him,even if it's just your job.If you do nice things like checking up on him even when you two aren't working it results into fuelling his delusions

because of his feelings he's a literal ticking bomb,wanting to spend as much time with you as he can but in the same time to stay as far away to not make a fool of himself

you cannot please him.He will literally want to crawl into your skin and head to know exactly what you're thinking 100% of the time.

at times,he knows he's wrong.He knows he's unhealthy,but he cannot give up on you now that you're stuck with him.His fights with Masky will get even more violent,resulting in him being patched up by either EJ or you

he will also fake bad moods,anxiety attacks and will even cut himself so that you pay attention to him.He can be a very good actor and knows how to manipulate his way into your arms

he takes out his sexual frustrations on his right hand tbh,thinking of like 100 scenarios under 5 minutes then repeating for half a night.Don't ask about his dark circles the next day,he will feel even more disgust towards himself than he feels already

whenever he's alone he acts like a horny teenager and whenever he's alone WITH YOU the scenario would go two ways: it's either complete silence with him acting all creepy and stealing glances in your direction or him acting even more creepier and being all over you.This results in two tic attacks,one worse than the other

I feel like Brian would be his biggest problem in order to get to you.He gets very clingy whenever the hooded man is around,and gives off the impression of being in control even tough he's in a constant state of anxiety

Masky is one son of a bitch.He will get all violent with you over every inconvenience and argument.

couldn't sleep last night?It's because of you.(I mean,it kinda is but still)

he has no power over you but desperately wants to.

makes nasty comments about your body whenever you're in a state of undress or if you wear clothes that accentuate your body shape.The comments might vary from slut shaming to cat calling he insists are "compliments" (he knows they are disrespectful,he does it on purpose to piss you off)

as long as your attention is on him he can sleep well at night.

this is how he started.You never gave in the fear nor the disrespect coming from him.Sure,you had your meltdowns,but he found your strength endearing ,he wanted to break you

he's sure you'll grow up on him.He counts on Tim to woo you with his gentlemanly behaviour,but he's just as mentally fucked as his other side.

Masky wants to own you.He daydreams of doing atrocious things to you while you either cry or praise him.He's one sick man,and he knows it.

at the same time,a small part of him wants you to fuck him and that big mouth of his.The only between is Tim,who wants to be by your side and to protect you from the other animals in the mansion

his fights with Toby get intense,but also longer than usual.If he loses in front of you he would have a bad day for the rest of the week tbh

arguments with Brian might also result in fights,but his friend has a way of slipping out of them since he knows you're the reason for his sudden increase of hormones

as I previously mentioned,on the rare occasion you might work with the other creeps,Masky would start to be a little fuck and make assumptions to whoever stayed in your presence for far too long,might also result in violence if said creep happens to be male.

Brian is way more manipulative than Toby when he needs to be,he laid eyes on you the first time you arrived there.

altough he's one tall boi,he blends well into his surroundings,that gives him the advantage to watch your every single move and to analyse your behaviour

you're fascinating to him,you're fearless yet you're sickly sweet.From your rare smile to the way your hair sticks to your forehead during long training sessions,he found himself way too attracted to you

couldn't care less about that prick nor anger issues in a person,he could simply get what he wants during a matter of time

he finds Toby pathetic but takes pity on him,and finds Tim irritating from to time to time,but more in a sibling type of way,he would be up for sharing tbh

he respects his work so he respects you as well,altough he won't take your side whenever Masky starts to insult you,no,he wants to see your reaction,the way you carry yourself

he sees you as his equal in the line of work,but has moments when he looks down on you,sometimes he's sure you won't last long in such a cruel world

Hoodie is the rival of no one,in terms of looks and strength he's intimidating,he could beat his teammates if they would ask for a fight,but he thrives off of mind games

Masky pissed you off?you can trash talk him to Brian.Toby made you uncomfortable?That's okay,he's here to listen!

he will be your shoulder to cry on,and he really listens to you without the need to mansplain or to invalidate your feelings.He has a way with women

he's unapologetic for the times he closed his eyes and pretended you're whimpering on his lap

Hoodie can act cold towards you whenever he wants your attention,he can be all touchy fuzzy for a day then the next day to treat you like you're no longer friends.Keeps you in hot-cold games to test your limits and to keep you interested in him

he can also be a little shit and to give others a side smirk whenever you choose him to partner up someplace

you got yourself in quite the situation. Good luck getting out! The woods are a dangerous place,so leave no marks behind as you run,some might enjoy the chase~

[strangelittlestories]

It was in the 6th year of the Wars of the Real that the anti-magicians and their Realis project (that all should act in accordance with certain physical laws) were truly challenged. This was due in no small part due to a singular invention from a family of forest witches.

Their discovery was as ingenious as it was stupid. And it radically changed what a disparate collective was able to accomplish in the face of both overwhelming force and abstract certainty.

It also caused a truly historic amount of epic shitfuckery.

From “I Fought the Spore and the Spore Won: a history of Realis and Resistance”

- - -

“So, you’re the new recruit, huh?” The woman who spoke wore strange armour that looked like it had been grown out of wood. The helmet alone glinted with metal spikes.

“I … uh, I guess? Sorry, I’m kinda new to this whole ‘magical kingdom’ deal you’ve got going on here…” The recruit in question was wearing dull red overalls and a ‘what-the-fuck’ expression.

“No worries, kid. We put out a multiversal call for aid - so anybody with a latent magical destiny or a strong subconscious hero fantasy got pulled in. Very much a ‘To Whom It May Concern’ type of spell.” 

She patted him on the shoulder. Up close he could see that the spikes on her helmet were actually the shards of a broken crown.

“So, uh, do I get any kind of training?”

“You already did, buddy. The spell should’ve planted a ‘potential seed’ inside you. When you’re exposed to trauma, then just in the nick of time it’ll suddenly sprout into the skills you need to survive. Very dramatic.” She paused for a second. “Or you’ll die. Also very dramatic.”

“So … either I’ll be awesome or I’ll die?”

“Well, you would die … unless you have one of these.” She threw him a small vial. He fumbled the catch, but grabbed it on the second try. Inside the vial swirled a glowing grey-green mist. “You catch a mortal wound, drink it. Or smash it on the injury. The fungus inside will patch you up.”

“Fungus?” The man was a pretty even split of horrified and fascinated. He simultaneously wanted to throw the vial away like poison, or guzzle it like forbidden candy.

“Yeah, you ever hear of ‘ophiocordyceps unilateralis’?”

“The weird zombie ant mushroom? Yeah, I saw it on a documentary!”

“Well, a family of witch-mycologists - real wyrd scientist types - they brewed up this variant in their forest. They turned it from a parasite to a symbiote. If it knows who you are, it’ll heal your wounds, get your heart pumping, even move your limbs for you.”

“How do I get it to know who I am?”

“You feed it.” She grinned ghoulishly. “Chuck in some hair, some blood, whatever bits of you are going spare. Anything to sync it up to your DNA. Think of it as your very own cannibal sourdough starter.”

“And people actually use this?”

“Oh yeah. Folks swear by the stuff. They even had an argument over what nickname it should have. The winner was the truly cursed phrase ‘resurrection juice’.”

“...really?”

“Oh yeah. The juice brigade are pretty smug it caught on. Some smart alec tried to give it a mushroom name, but they got one-upped by the juice thing.”

“I’m not sure I’m a fan of sharing my body with a fungus.” He tried to find the right words to articulate the niggling philosophical nuances of the idea and failed. “It feels like, I dunno, a bad idea?”

“Oh, it’s a terrible idea. A real crock of stupid. Pure idiot-fuel. But sometimes, when the world’s against you, the truly bad idea is the only one you have.”

“But, I mean, once the fungus takes over … would I still even be me?” The urge to gobble up the taboo canape had begun to be edged out by the existential dread.

“Look at it this way: you’d be mushroom food anyways, right? Why not let it be mushrooms who think they’re you? I think it’s kinda comforting that when the time comes, I can just relax and let fungus take the wheel.”

The man paused for a second, pondering the nature of life, decay, and resurrection.

“Anyways, they’ll be summoning the portal to pipe us out on our first mission soon. So best get ready.” The princess (for that’s what she was) thought for a second, then asked: “By the way … what did you do before you got sucked up into this particular asscrack, anyhow?”

The man gulped.

“I was a plumber.” He said.

[zwolfgames]

Can we have more Yandere mha x child reader please 😁🙏

*Thank you for the request! I' unsure wether you wanted a continuation of the original two parts or a new one. This one us a continuation but I was fairly out of ideas so I hope this is alright. If you did mean a totally new concept then I'll be happy to write that too :3)

Requested: Annon

Warnings: Kinda child abuse but not in a violence or sexual way. Manipulation. Incorrect lore. Binding. Yandere.

(3rd person PoV)

Y/N. The one kid know to have escaped the league of villains.

But what no one told the news, was that you were also the one kid to escape all of class 1A. A class of pshyco's.

Now that you look back at it. You had been naive.

Trusting these heroes. Just for them to use you as a doll, as a baby to coddle because they felt bad. Because they needed it.

But no one ever asked you... no one.It had been another two long years now.

Your body had finally been allowed to age without Eri being there to revert you, even if she was willing or not. You still weren't sure if that child had been in the same situation as you... But you didn't have time to look back.

Not when they were hunting you.

Now that some war between villains and hero's was around the corner. The searches became more intense. You'd catch Bakugo not two alleys down from you.

See Tokoyami and Hawks patrol from above.

Allmight had been caught in disguise just yesterday.

They were closing in on you.

You had only gotten away up untill now by cuttibg your hair differently. Wearing baggy... stolen.. clothes and caking dirt all over your face.

But what had to be done had to be done.

It's not like the villains left you alone either.

Altough, with the criminal circkles you had affiliated in, as was totally allowed for a 10 year old... you had heard of them trying to find you.

And you know... for someone's whos mentally just 12, that was scary.So you had trained yourself to fight a bit... Wich wouldn't do a lot against grown adults... but the tought was nice.

It's not like your quirk would be of any help. Crying pearls only helped you get by. And thats it...

But naturally, a story couldn't go on with it's main character living peacefully.

As you were napping on your little cleaned up dumpster of a home, you got knocked out of it as the whole plastic container got kicked to it's side.

An all too exited Kirishima came running to grab you off of the floor.You rolled out of the way. Kicking over some cardboard to slow him down as you sprinted away.

The boy just used his quirk to smash trough any and all obstacles. He had one goal in mind. And that is to take their shared sibling back.

Sibling was a better title then your actual role was. You're more of an emotional support pet....

Just as you think you'd still manage to get away from Kirishama, a tendril of grey scarf wraps firmly around you.

You're snatched up and quickly find yourself trapped in someones arms.

The man didn't even want to talk right now. He had gotten way too attached to you. A little kid with barely any power. Those kind of people is what he vowed to protect.

And even tough it seemed like you didn't want anything to do with him or other hero's. Aizawa was sure you'd understand that you needed the protection when the war began.

That you'd need a parental figure-He means... that he'd be available if you ever needed... guidance.

So in no time were you back to U.A.. Wrists bound like an animal.

You didn't like these people anymore...

They made you feel weak, useless...

Not human.

Just a plaything...

You were once again reverted back to an 8 year old and this time, kept in a diffrent room.

"So, like I said, you'll be sleeping in my room now, alright kiddo? I promise this is just for your safety. See, we even set up your own little bed. Yaorozu even made you a plush of your favorite dinosaur. And well... Koda.. tried to do that aswell- but- nevermind." Aizawa explained as he showed you your... incredibly cozy bed. Tough having to sleep in the same room as the guy that had essentially brought you into this mess..

Not your favourite.

"Don't look so depressed kid. It could be way worse. The villains could have killed you by now. You really shouldn't have run from us. We're just keeping you safe." Aizawa sighs and rubs your now messily cut hair.

You just huff in the little defiance you had left.

How dare he try and say that the villains who just as much wanted you back were trying to kill you?

Did he think you were stupid?

Probably.

Actually, undoubtedly.

They must all think that, that the slightest gust of wind would blow you away.

What did even see in you? Just a child?

No one would go this far for just a child...But you were their child. Group effort. Class project.

That was you. A responsibility they took way too seriously.

You still yearn for the reality where you could have just been delivered to an orphanage. Gotten an actual normal family.

A mom and a dad... or a mom and a mom... or a dad and a da- okay look you just didn't care as long as it wasn't this...

"Look, and we got you even more toys. And Midoriya mentioned that you liked to draw? Right? So only the best supplies for our little hero." Aizawa tries to smile.

You didn't know wether he was the only one that actually noticed how wrong this all was... he knew... but he couldn't give you up... give you away.

He never intended for this... but his class had also gotten attached... he wasn't alone in this... And that sucked for you.

Because escape attempt after escape attempt just ended up as you getting more stuck.

Ankle chain, gps tracker, locked doors, barred windows, constant surveillance.

How is no one saying anything against this? Why is this just being allowed?

Why did the freedom rule not count for you?

Where is the law?

Nowhere.

Not for you.

Its never been there for you.

And honestly, that hurt.

Why didn't anyone help you?

Why weren't you saved?

You littarly live with hero's and you're the victim.

This isn't okay...

And you couldn't do anything about it.

So you broke.

Going from defiant child to broken toy in days. Rotting in your extremly comfrotable bed like a depressed teenager.

Wich techically you could almost classify for mentally. Just half a year more.

Getting dragged out of your bed to be passes around like a plushy for movie nights was common now.

The students were getting more nervous too with the upcoming war.

Ochako coddled you more.

Deku had been teaching you about all his quirk knowledge as if he was scared he's die.

Aizawa was fixing up more safety manners.

Hawks had been coming over to babysit during actual hero school lessons.

Wich was even more awkard.

"Hey kid, smile."

"Y/N, can you draw me?"

"You're so cute Y/N, why don't i just take you with me instead? Im sure they wouldn't mind."

"Kiddo, want to go shopping?"

"Y/N."

"Kid."

"Kid..."

You were not a kid...

Stop it.

Why can't they leave you alone.

So you cried. Embarrassingly so in Hawk's presence. Pearls fell from your eyes and the pro hero looked on in awe.

Cupping your cheeks and whispering sweet words to try and comfort you.

Wrapping his wings around you and patting your head.

And dammit if you didn't hate all of them you would have loved this.

But after this... there really wasn't any escape.

War was spent in a bunker.

The survivors clung to you for dear life after the events and you just had to sit trough it like the good doll you were.

Smile and wave Y/N.

You weren't ever free.

And you never will be.

[writethrough]

feel free to imagine a sexy interpretation. Also, I'm going to add a loss of virginity here just for fun. In this scenario, Dream is finally willing to admit to himself that he loves the reader, but he's still not willing to confess (and he's also still a possessive/obsessive jerk), so instead he chases after the woman's dreams, especially until even your wet dreams. And 2 possible catalysts here, either Dream sees that the reader is dreaming about having sex with someone else and becomes insanely jealous or he sees someone flirting with the reader in the waking world and becomes insanely jealous XD. This is so Dream, like a king, he feels entitled to the reader and his time, and while he's trying to work up the courage to confess, he makes sure the reader can't hook up with anyone else.

I Am Yours, But Are You Mine

(Morpheus x Female Reader)

Warnings: Minor language, suggestive situations, kinda possessive Morpheus

Word Count: 1651

A/N: Oh my goodness, thank you so much for being so patient! Unfortunately, Morpheus has been one of those characters that I haven't been as motivated to write. And I hate forcing myself to write when I'm uninspired. Thankfully, I found sparks of it here and there.

I tried to follow your request as truly as I could (the lost of virginity didn't quite make it), but I ran with your possible catalyst options! I do think I need to work on my jealous/entitled Morpheus, though. I think he could've turned out better.

Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it! And thank you for requesting it!

Images of you and that human haunted him. It was all he could think about as he sat on the staircase to his throne. How that man approached you. How he smiled, and you returned it. How he made you laugh, soft and delicate.

Morpheus’ jaw tightened, and he snapped his book shut.

Was it too late?

Had he lost you before he could have you?

He closed his eyes, trying to fight those thoughts with the ones of you and him.

How, when Morpheus appeared, you greeted him with warmth and tenderness. How you touched his arm in reassurance or when you were startled. You knew he would protect you. It was instinctual how you moved closer and tucked yourself behind him.

He had never felt more vital.

And yet, earlier, you had that same kindness for that man.

How long had you known him? When did you meet him? What was he to you?

You would have told Morpheus about any romantic partners.

His fist clenched as his arm hung off his knee.

To think, mere days ago, he had realized that he loved you. He would have been content to dedicate himself to you silently. An ever-present confidant for his heart’s deepest desire. How quickly things could change.

He had to do something.

—

Morpheus had grown more agitated throughout the day. The more he thought about you and that man, the darker his mind became. 

He had finished crafting new nightmares when he sensed you had entered the Dreaming.

He had to go to you. He needed to know what that man wanted from you—and if you wanted anything from him.

You didn’t need anything from that human.

He was quick to find you within your dream.

A replica of your home, which he found strange. Rarely did your dreams play out here. You were usually conscious within the Dreaming. And his heart went out to you, knowing your day must have been stressful.

He peered into your room and nearly unleashed every nightmare in his realm.

You were laid bare with that man hovering over you.

Morpheus’ knuckles whitened. And before he could think better—before he could calm himself. He swiped the dream away and sent you into the Waking World.

—

You woke with a frustrated groan.

Of course. Of course, you had to wake up when things were getting good.

You scrunched your nose when you recalled who had been in your dream.

You sighed. At least your subconscious knew not to dream about Morpheus in his kingdom. You might actually die if that happened.

Though, the replacement for him wasn’t all bad. You had noticed the similarities when you met him right away. Tall, black hair, lithe, but his eyes were brown and not the blue you had come to love. And where Morpheus’ presence held authority and power, the stranger’s had a shyness, a quiet confidence that you may have been attracted to in a different time. However, you only wanted one being.

You stretched before climbing out of bed.

You weren’t sure when you realized you loved Morpheus, but after you internalized it, you promised to never act on it.

There had to be hundreds, if not thousands, of creatures who had fallen for the Dream King. And yet, you had only heard of two that captured his attention. Who were you to think you stood a chance of being his? He was one of the most important beings in existence. You were a measly human—here and gone before he could blink.

You shook your head.

You were grateful for Morpheus’ friendship. He listened and held an interest in you that you couldn’t understand. You would gladly take whatever relationship you could have with him. 

You slowly got ready for your day. You had more time with your early waking and decided to do more with your makeup. It had been years since you applied makeup for someone else’s benefit. But you wondered if Morpheus would notice anything different.

Scrunching your nose again, you rid that thought from your mind. Morpheus didn’t care about how you looked. He’d told you appearances meant little to him, that it was dreaming that held someone’s true soul.

You wished you could know his.

—

Morpheus would’ve broken his teeth if he were human—and perhaps his wrist, too, if he squeezed any tighter.

He stood with his hands behind his back, staring out the stained glass windows in his throne room.

He had stopped your dream from continuing, but the reality was different.

His entire arsenal of power was at his disposal. Morpheus could do whatever he wished to that human, but that would only end in you being upset with him—or furious if extreme enough.

No, Morpheus had to prove himself. He had to make you see that he was the only one for you—that only he could provide for and protect you—stand by you in the way you deserved.

And he’d do so tonight.

—

Morpheus appeared in your kitchen doorway, mind racing. Anger and fear and uncertainty beneath a stony exterior.

And then he saw you. As stunning as ever.

And it all vanished.

All except his desire to tell you.

Your kindness and strength had lured him to you the moment you met. He’d come to know how closely you held those you cared about, and somehow, he was one of them.

And the thought of letting you go, of you choosing someone else…he couldn’t fathom that.

You brought him so much peace.

You spun from your refrigerator to your island, produce in hand, and finally saw him.

“Shit, Morpheus!” You held a hand to your heart. “Give me a warning next time.”

His face remained as still as ever, but you swore you saw a passing gleam in his eyes.

“My sincerest apologies,” he said, stepping toward you.

You waved it away, half believing him.

“Want anything to drink?” you asked, chopping the first ingredient.

He scanned the food, but you weren’t entirely sure he was seeing it.

“I must ask something of you,” he said.

“Okay.” You placed the knife down. “What is it?”

“Have you found someone?”

You tilted your head, brow pinched. “Found someone?”

Morpheus never hesitated when speaking—and you weren’t sure that was the word for it now—but something made him consider his next question carefully.

“Are you spoken for?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, slowly connecting the dots.

“Are you asking if I’m dating anyone?” Your heart picked up. He had never asked something so intimate before.

“Yes.”

“No.” You licked your lips. “No. What brought this on?”

The faintest pink graced his cheeks. His eyes shifted to the side, then back.

“...You dreamt of him.” He breathed like something terrible would happen if he spoke louder.

Your heart clenched at his look of betrayal, trying to recall what he meant. Then, your eyes widened. He must have seen what happened at the coffee shop.

“Are you talking about that guy who came up to me?” you asked.

Morpheus shifted his chin downward, the most movement he used for a nod, and didn’t break eye contact.

“Morpheus…I don’t even remember his name,” you said, being as gentle with him as possible.

The space between his brows twitched. “You dreamt of him.”

Your head dropped in embarrassment.

You shrugged. “It’s been a while.”

It wasn’t much of an explanation. Although the guy had been attractive, you weren’t interested in him when he spoke—something unnecessary in dreams. All he had to do was get the job done, but with Morpheus' attitude, you could guess why that dream ended before anything could happen.

“Are you…jealous?” you asked.

“I am a king. I do not experience jealousy.” His head lifted ever so slightly.

“Historically, you do,” you said pointedly, trying to hide your smirk.

He hummed as if annoyed, but you knew better. You had stumped him.

“You are fortunate I hold you dear,” he said. “Not many can speak to me as such.”

You laughed breathily and stepped forward, grateful your answer pacified him.

You regarded him carefully. The smooth plains of his face, the sharp lines of his jaw and nose, his blue eyes. His lips. Your feelings for Morpheus were bubbling to the surface in a way you couldn’t ignore, and to think he possibly returned them? It nearly sent your head spinning.

“You know…I wouldn’t mind if you were a little jealous,” you said.

“And why is that?” He arched a brow, trying to remain composed.

“Because then it would mean you share my feelings,” you whispered. “It would mean I could kiss y—”

Lips were on yours—warm and powerful, a surge of pent-up passion. He’d waited far too long to taste you, to know the curves of your hips and the dip in your spine.

Your body melded into his as if he was the lock and you were the key. You opened him up to things he never thought he’d want to experience again. And you kept his secrets. You protected him. Made him feel safe. He was desperate to do the same for you.

You pulled away, but Morpheus followed, giving you quick kisses until you put a hand on his chest, laughing.

“Just…give me a second.” You inhaled. “One of us needs to breathe.”

The faintest pink graced his cheeks, and you grinned.

“I apologize. It slipped my mind,” Morpheus said.

You shook your head. “Don’t. Never apologize for doing that.”

You pecked his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, and lingered just beyond his lips.

“Guess I have someone else to dream about,” you whispered, each word brushing your lips against his.

He let out a low rumble. “There is no need to dream.”

His hands grasped the back of your neck and pulled you into him. You moaned when his sand whirled around you, knowing exactly where you were headed.

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