#i love all of these questions i might just answer them on my own

[doitforbangchan]

Ever Lovely - 3

Pairing~ Fae Prince!Bangchan x reader (afab/fem) x Fae Prince!Lee Know

Warnings~ Angst, cursing, panic attack, fainting, insanity (reader feels crazy)

WC~ 6.8k

Masterlist // series masterlist

previous ~ next

The far away look in your eyes did not go unnoticed by the staff the next morning, nor did the dark circles under your eyes due to exhaustion. As they dressed you for the day your normally vibrant demeanor seemed to be dimmed as you did not even protest when they pulled you out of bed like you normally do, and you did not pout at the dawning of your corset as they expected you too. It was honestly a little concerning to the maids. Especially to Mara. 

You had gotten little to no sleep the night prior. Over and over your mind replayed the events you had experienced. From leaving the castle, to meeting Chris and Minho, to following them home and finally to them. 

A part of you thought it might have all been a nightmare; that you had never left at all and everything you had been through was a figment of your imagination. But you knew in your gut it was real. That you really had met faeries and visited an otherworldly realm beyond your wildest imagination. Both the wonder and terror you had experienced could not have been made up in your head, as you still felt them even now. 

So many questions still rattled around in your head. You wanted to know more about them and their court. You wanted to know how they all came together. And you wanted to know why they valued human life so little. As much as you craved to return to them and demand more answers you also knew that beings that clearly only believed mortals to be nothing but toys for their entertainment were nothing but trouble for you. You would be a fool to put yourself in such a dangerous situation for a second time. 

But 

There was also a realization that that was probably the most thrilling thing you will have ever done in your life. Nothing would ever compare to the astonishment of the Court of Stars and that sat heavy in your chest. 

“My dear, what troubles have you plagued? You have hardly uttered a sound this morning.” Mara's question brought you out of your thoughts and back to reality. 

You blinked quickly as you tried to come up with an answer that would satisfy her. “My rest was uneasy last night. The stress of yesterday must have gotten too me worse than I thought.” 

She hummed, straightening out the poofs of your dress. “I will have the servants prepare some tea with your breakfast. You need to be awake and lively when you rendezvous with the Queens today for wedding preparations.” 

“Thank you, Mara. I would appreciate that greatly.” You said softly then a thought struck you; Mara had been the one to tell you stories about faeries when you were young- maybe she knew more information about them. The problem was getting that information out of her without her becoming suspicious. You cleared your throat lightly, “Mara, do you remember the stories you used to tell me when I was a child?”

“I have told you many tales, your highness. You will have to be specific.” She was behind you fixing your hair.

“The stories.. About faeries.” 

“Yes, I remember.” She answered, adjusting the pastel pink bow that rested in your hair and matched the color of your dress. 

“Well, do you happen to know anything else about them? The.. faeries, I mean.” 

Mara’s eyes instantly met yours in the mirror and her hands stopped moving. When she realized her reaction she cleared her throat and continued her task. “Now what makes you ask about a thing like that?” 

You tried a shrug in indifference, as if the inquiry held no weight. “ No reason in particular. Just thought maybe they would be good stories to pass on to my own children one day.” 

“Those were less of a fun story and more of a warning. Beings that are not to be trifled with.” She huffed. “Magical devils in disguise. It is better not to think of them at all.” 

‘Devils in disguise.’ Those words stuck with you the most. You remembered how different both Chris and Minho appeared when you arrived in the fae wilds- how they had changed out of their disguise and into their more bizarre forms. 

“But what if I find myself in a peculiar situation and the only thing that could save me is that knowledge?” 

Mara narrowed her eyes at yours, giving you a glance over with an etch of worry in her brows.”What situation would you find yourself in that this would be useful? Y/n, did something happen?” 

Shit. You should not have said that last question. 

“N-no. Of course not, Mara. What a silly question.” You deflected, using a hand to wave her off. 

“Y/n.” the elder woman's voice grew stern. “If something has happened you must tell me.” 

You wiped your sweating hands on your dress, hiding your nerves and playing it off. “Nothing has happened. I am simply curious.” 

She didn’t say anything for a moment and you thought that was going to be the end of the discussion, but before you could deflate in dejection she surprised you by speaking up. “I will not claim to be an expert, most of what I know comes from what my own father told me when I was a girl so take it all with a grain of salt.” 

You nodded, motioning for her to continue. 

She sighed wistfully and began her tale, “In the village where I grew up, a few miles outside of this very kingdom in a small woodland town, many rumors spread about tricksters that dwelled within the surrounding woods. Rumors of supernatural creatures that cared for nothing but their own enjoyment. Rumors of their cunning games and alluring charms. ” She breathed deeply before continuing. “ These creatures were known to us as Faeries or the fae folk. Our village had a specific set of rules regarding these tricksters. Do not ever enter the woods at night. If you are outside and see something strange, leave immediately. Fae are known to lure in victims with traps of enticement. Never invite one into your home lest you invoke nightmares and thievery. Faeries cannot lie, so they are very eloquent with their words and how they phrase things.” 

“If I were to ask one a question, would it answer me truthfully?” You asked. 

Mara shrugged, “Perhaps, though I would not count on it. They might try to get something from you in return. Never accept any offer they make you, magic always comes with a price and more likely than not it is a terrible price to pay. Do not celebrate with them. Do not show great emotion to a faerie either. I remember hearing of a young woman who was grieving the passing of her husband late one night outside by the wicker well, one moment she was there sobbing her heart out and the next she was gone- vanished without a trace.” 

Taken.. Like whoever fell victim to Seungmin and Jeongin. 

“These are the rules my father instilled in me, and his father before him. Each child of my village grew up knowing the terrors of what lurked beyond what our natural eyes could see.” Mara finished her task, coming around to the front of you now. “There we go, looking as polished as ever, your highness.” 

“Thank you Mara. And thank you for sharing with me the tales from your childhood.” You smiled weakly at her, putting your hand on her shoulder. Her words ran through you as you took them in. You had definitely broken many of these rules already and that alone made you incredibly uneasy. But at the same time you felt hopeful? Now that you know the rules of the fae, maybe you could use them to avoid trouble with them should you wish to return to them. 

“You’re welcome, but do not go sharing this with anyone else. I do not need anyone coming after my head for filling yours with strange ideas.” She huffed making you laugh. 

“I won’t tell a soul. I promise.” You made an ‘X’ over your heart. 

“Now you must hurry along, I am sure your guests are already waiting for you in the dining hall to commence preparations.” She patted your back and sent you to the door. But before you could leave the room she called out, “Wait, I almost forgot the most important rule regarding the fae.” You turned back to face her again. “Never, under any circumstance, fall in love with a faerie, they will never love you the same and it will always end in tragedy.” 

For a reason you can’t explain you felt your heart break ever so slightly at her warning. 

Dread did not even begin to describe the way Chris felt as he traveled to the Court of Wonder. For him it had been a week since Pricilla’s threat of war and as much as he did not wish to see her he knew he couldn’t put off the meeting any longer. The journey to the Court of Wonder was a long one, the two lands were separated by the vast seas of the Summer court and could only be traversed by boat. 

Chris always loved the sea. The dark inky depths reminded him of his own home, but instead of an endless void the water was teeming with life. When he was younger he spent hours upon hours exploring the Summer Courts many ecosystems with the sea always being his favorite. It was where he met Minho. 

The fae prince had paid a hefty amount of gold to a Kobold to ferry him across the water. The reptilian trickster tried to swindle him out of even more money but one look into the glimmering amethyst of Chris’s eyes made the little coward realize that Chris was a powerful being that should not be messed with, even a creature as stupid as a Kobold would not dare challenge the dark prince.

As he traveled Chris let his mind wander. He remembered the first time he met Minho on these very seas. 

The prince was young, only a few centuries old at that point, long before he had taken control over his court. Chris had once again ran away from his court in search of… well anything really. An escape from his reality. The pressures of princely responsibilities were weighing on him heavier than ever and it was becoming too much for the boy to accept. After yet another dispute with his mother he fled the court, venturing as far as he could until he entered the territory of the Summer Court and even then he did not stop. He went all the way to the water, standing upon a cliffside that overlooked a tropical archipelago. 

Chris had never seen anything like it before in his entire life, the vastness of the water rivaled that of the galaxies of his home. His purple eyes took in every detail; from the crashing waves to the shaking of spindly palm trees. But what really caught his attention was the large ship that was speeding over the waves, a large red sail swaying in the wind as it went. Pirates. The prince was giddy as he jumped down from the cliffside, aiming right for the vessel. 

He landed directly on his feet smack dab in the middle of the top deck, a bright smile on his face and an excited twitch in his fingers. Not even the shouts in concern from the crew could shake him. Or the sword that was suddenly being pointed right at his throat. 

A boy, younger than him but not by much, with catlike eyes and dark shaggy hair sneered at Chris as he held the sword to the prince's neck. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“Chris.” He was still smiling, clearly unfazed. 

“Well, ‘Chris’, what are you doing on our ship? Come to take our treasures?” The boy asked, taking in the boy's strange appearance. Chris did not look like any fae from the Summer court, he was much too pale. The boy still did not lower his weapon.

“Minho,” A voice called out, making the boy cast his gaze quickly at another man with fiery orange hair. This man was wearing a black tricorn hat that had a plume of red feathers sticking out. He seemed familiar to Chris but he couldn’t quite place why. “Mind your manners when you're around royalty.” 

“Royalty, huh? Doesn’t look like any royal I know.” Minho scoffed but slowly lowered his weapon nonetheless. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while, Chris. What brings you to my ship? Did you get tired of your pretty palace in the sky like I did with mine?” Ahh yes, now Chris remembered who this is- Prince Hongjoong of the Summer court. He hadn’t seen the orange haired boy in a long time, he had stopped attending the balls that the Court of Stars threw many years ago. Chris heard he had abandoned his crown and became estranged from his family. Chris was envious of him.

He offered a shrug, tilting his head back and forth, “Ah you know how it is, Hongjoong. Sometimes those gems are too heavy on one's head.” Chris used his thumb to motion to Minho, who still had his slitted pupils were still locked in on Chris. “Where did you find this rabid thing?” 

“You watch your mouth you assh-” 

“Ehh put the claws down kitty cat, it was a compliment. You need to be a little crazy to hang out with Hongjoong.” He winked cheekily at Minho, making him scowl even further but Chris also saw a light dusting of pink on the tips of his ears. 

“Minho is a soldier I plucked from the dessert militia. He’s got quite a sharp mind; great for battle strategy. You’d be impressed Chris.” Hongjoong smirked. 

“Won’t the Summer Court miss someone like that?” Chris asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Of course they will. But only the best get to join my crew.” Both boys chuckled while Minho just looked annoyed. “The offer extends to you as well Chris. I’d love to have you in my little band of misfits.” 

The offer weighed heavy on Chris’s shoulders. It was extremely tempting and something he had actually thought about in great detail. Ultimately he knew he couldn’t stay away forever. His court relied on him too much- his mother relied on him too much.

The rest was history. Whenever Chris felt the need to escape he would leave his court and head to the Summer Court, joining the pirate crew known as ‘Ateez’ as they traveled and becoming great friends with Minho. Such good friends that Minho left the crew and joined Chris in leading his court when his mother passed. 

It was a good memory, one that Chris cherished. Being back on these waters gave him a sense of calm he longed for, even though where he was headed was far from peaceful. 

Chris knew this bullshit threat was only to get his attention. Everything Pricilla did was to get his attention. 

He knew he never should have entertained her in the first place. He had let his cock think for him instead of his head one too many times and this was the consequence of his actions. Chris had hoped the psychotic queen would move on from her infatuation with him- it had been over five hundred years since he had indulged her- but it seems like his wishful thinking was just that; a wish. And unfortunately the prince cannot grant his own wishes, no matter how hard he tries. 

Chris let his eyes scour the water, looking for the divine secrets that lay below the crystalline waves. His pupils enlarged to encompass his whole eye as he focused, his sight enhancing significantly. Just as he had thought they were sailing over a colony of merfolk. He could see the massive reefs they build their homes out of. The fishlike humanoids were infamously elusive and great at remaining hidden so he wasn’t able to make out any of the creatures themselves much to his dismay. 

The fae prince sighed and returned his sight back to normal. Maybe one day he would send Jeongin down there to make contact. The Sea Foam court and the merfolk were known to have a cordial report and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have another allied species in case something went south. Though a petty part of him did not want to ask the youngest boy for anything. He was still irate at Jeongin and Seungmin for ruining his time with you. 

Most of his thoughts lately were of you. His lost princess. He wondered what you were doing, if you were still upset with him and if he would ever see you again. The man still did not know what had made you so upset in the first place. He had not said anything that was not the truth but for some reason you took that as a personal dig. Minho had laid into him about having sensitivity for a weaker species that night when he returned. 

Chris hoped you were not still mad at him. For reasons he could not explain he felt an ache in his chest at the thought of you hating him forever. It shouldn’t matter. You were just a human after all. Your opinion of him shouldn’t bother him at all.

But it does. 

It bothers him beyond comprehension. He already thought the world of you- the runaway princess with a voice like pure silk and a body crafted by the goddess of sex herself. The moment he laid eyes on you he knew you were something special. So the fact that you seemed so.. Disgusted by what he said made him want to rip his curly hair from his head. 

The long ride finally came to an end as the boat entered the edge of the Court of Wonder. The kobold bowed to the prince when he exited the boat, throwing another gold piece to the small creature as he passed. 

The lands of the Court of Wonder were full of splendor. A land full of magical creatures and all things extraordinary. The pixie forests glowed with vibrant colors and the mountains shimmered with the pure gold they were made from. To anyone who had never been there before it would be captivating; to him though it was a shithole. 

Standing at the edge of the dock awaiting his arrival was a tall fae man; the man had vibrant orange skin that resembled dragon scales and he was wearing a long black cloak. Chris recognized him instantly. This was Jasper, one of Pricillas hounds. Seemed like she wanted to guarantee his arrival. 

The ‘hounds’ were Pricillas most precious possessions. They were a group of fae that hailed from the Court of Wonder, hand picked by the Queen herself to be on her guard. That in itself was all well and good- many fae folk had unique magical abilities that were useful to a court- but word in the rumor mill was that these were no ordinary fae; that they were genetically modified by Pricilla to be stronger, sharper, deadlier. No longer were they regular guards, now they were an elite team who did her bidding without question- no matter how sadistic or inhumane the request.

The aura that this man gave off was pure menace and if Chris was a weaker fae he might have even shuddered under his scrutinizing red eyes. 

But he was not a weaker fae. Chris had royal blood that granted him not only strength but powers of his court. The prince knew if it came down to it he could probably defeat Jasper one on one… but he also knew the ‘Hounds’ rarely ever traveled completely alone. He wouldn’t be able to fight off more than one at a time. 

At least not without the powers of the crown… 

The reptilian fae lowered himself slightly in a customary bow to the prince, though his eyes did not leave Chris’s for even a second. “Welcome to the Court of Wonder, Prince Chris. Your presence has been long awaited.” 

Chris huffed and wanted to roll his eyes. “Yes I am aware. Pricilla hasn’t stopped demanding my presence for a millennium.” 

Jasper seemed to ignore the comment, gesturing for Chris to follow him. The fae prince walked one step behind the other man in silence. It was uncomfortable to say the least. They walked for a few minutes until they came upon a glowing pillar that looked to be made of pure blue agate crystal. 

Jasper halted right in front of the pillar, then turned back to look at Chris. “Place your hand upon the crystal. And hold your breath.” 

Chris sighed then without hesitation stuck his palm directly to the pillar. The second his skin touched the cool gem his body was encapsulated in a beam of pure light. It was hot- burning, searingly hot and he felt his feet lift from the ground and his vision disappeared as all he could see was the blinding rainbow light. Then just as soon as it came, it was gone. 

His feet landed back on the ground and his sight cleared up. Just as he had suspected; the pillar was a teleportation crystal. They were pretty common in the larger courts, they made it easier to get around. His own court did not have any, so he wasn’t the most familiar. 

He now found himself standing in front of the huge castle that belonged to the aristocracy of the Court of Wonder. It was made of pure gold, a product of the mines that resided in the mountains, and was bigger than any other castle he had seen anywhere in the fae wilds. It was also surrounded in miles and miles of blooming flower fields, as far as the eye could see. The gardens were Pricillas pride and joy.

‘Of course she has to have the biggest and best of everything.’ He grumbled in his mind. 

Two guards clad in bronze armor opened the large wide set doors as he approached, offering him low bows as he passed him. God, he was so sick and tired of all the bowing. So tired of everyone knowing he was royal. If he wasn’t royal his life would have been simpler- he wouldn’t have to deal with this bullshit in this bullshit court. 

Chris strolled into the palace and through its glittering vast halls. He did not stop and entertain any of the servants that addressed him nor did he slow his steps until he entered the throne room in the center of the castle. 

When he entered the room he was met with the reason for his visit; Pricilla. The queen was lounging sideways on her plush throne, her feet hanging off the side and kicking back and forth in giddiness. Her horizontal pupils settled on him as he entered and her lips curled up into a wicked smile, her pearly white jagged teeth on display. 

“Well there he is, the man of the hour.” Pricilla waved her lithe fingers at him in a teasing manner. “So glad you finally decided to come visit me. It only took an active threat to your people to get you here.” She giggled maniacally as if she had said the funniest thing in the world. 

There was something..off about the Queen. Something different. Pricilla had always been a beautiful woman but now her normally vibrant yellow skin seemed to have lost a touch of its glittering luster, and her usually long flowing hair that was deep blue was cropped short to about her shoulders- but it was choppy and uneven as if she had cut it herself. Even her clothes looked askew. She had always cared too much about her appearance, so the fact that she looked so worn down had really thrown him off.  

“I am here. Just as you demanded. Now what do you want, Pricilla?” He asked, crossing his arms and getting right to the point. He wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t miss me.” She laughed and lifted one side of her dress, showing off her thigh to him in an attempt at enticing him. When he didn’t react to her all Pricilla pouted, throwing her head back with a whine. “Come on Chrissy you can’t pretend forever.”

“And what exactly am I pretending to do, Pricilla?” 

“Acting like you don’t like me.” She huffed, “As if our time together meant nothing to you!” 

“It did mean nothing to me, Pricilla.” He glared at her, getting fed up with her already. “In fact it meant less than nothing.” 

Chris saw her grit her teeth, “Now you’re just being cruel to me.” 

“I am being cruel to you? No, what’s cruel is threatening a war all because you aren’t getting my attention. What's cruel is sending Changbin crashing down in a ball of fire after all he wanted to do was talk with you.” He clenched his fists at his side. 

The look on her face became confused, “Wait, who is Changbin, again?” 

Chris rubbed his face in frustration, “The one who came to see you last week… that you sent plummeting down in a cocoon of flames.. That put a giant hole in my courtyard. ” 

She snapped in recollection, “Ah yes spring court faerie with the pink hair! He was a cutie pie I must admit.” She snickered briefly then her face hardened again. “But he was not who I requested. I asked for you, Chrissy. And I won’t be ignored. Not by you or anyone.” 

“I am busy, Pricilla. I have a court to run. I would think you’d know a little about that seeing as you’re a ruler yourself.” 

She grinned at him again, “Ah but I am a Queen. You have been neglecting your court by dividing it in pieces instead of just dawning the crown yourself.” Her broken nails tapped on the twinkling sun emblem on the crown that was embedded in her skull. To wear the crown was to become the crown- there was no taking it off. “They need a proper ruler, Chris. A strong, handsome king. And they’ll need an equally strong Queen.” 

There it was. 

Chris rolled his eyes so far into the back of his head he could almost see his brain. “You have your own court, you do not need mine as well.” 

“But think about how incredible it could be if we were to join our two courts together! We would be unstoppable! And our children would grow up in the most magical place to ever exist! All you have to do is put on that ugly vine-y crown and your powers would allow you to-” 

“Pricilla that is enough!” Chris raised his voice at her for the first time, glaring at her as his eyes darkened until they were a deep almost black purple color. He could see how taken aback she looked at his outburst but he continued before she could speak again. “You never know when to fucking quit! I have told you over and over again that you and I are never going to be together. I fucked you one time, that’s it. Grow up and get the fuck over it.” 

“Chris, come on-” 

“No! You have disrespected me and my court for the last time with this bullshit! I will not stand for your insults to my family's legacy any longer. This ends here and now.” 

The prince expected her to cry and whine and beg like she always does, but instead he was met with her intense stare and complete silence from the seelie Queen. He had never seen her so silent and still before, as if she was made of stone. After what felt like eternity she seemed to snap back into reality. 

“Alright.” 

He raised a brow in confusion, “Alright? That’s all you have to say now?” 

“Yes.” She nodded slowly. Her face was neutral but Chris could see something wicked brewing behind her eyes. “I concede. I won’t pursue you any longer.” 

“And you’ll retract your threat of war among our courts?” He pressed. 

She nodded again, “Yes, there will be no war.” 

He cleared his throat, finding this went way too easily but not looking a gift horse in the mouth. “Excellent. I am glad we could put this to rest.” 

“Me as well. Maybe we can move past all of this and even become.. Friends?” She asked, tapping her nails on the side of her throne.

He didn’t know what game she was playing or what her intentions were, but he also knew it would be best to try and move on for the sake of peace. The wilds did not need a spat amongst royals. 

“Friends would be lovely.” He conceded. 

Pricilla clapped ecstatically and the shrill giggle made Chris’s ears hurt. “Perfect. Then I look forward to being the very best of friends. Don’t you, Chrissy?” 

He winced slightly, then cleared his throat and nodded. Better to agree with her and be done with it once and for all. “Of course. Now that we have put this mess behind us, and can move on-” 

“As friends,” She cut him off with a smirk. 

“Yes. As friends.” He continued, trying to hold in his agitation, “I will be taking my leave now. Take care of yourself, Pricilla.” He gave her a shallow bow of his head. 

The seelie woman waved her fingers at him, “Byyyyye Chrissy.” 

The prince turned on his heel and walked out of the throne room, then down the halls and out of the front door, not stopping until he was outside. Once he was outside he finally let out a frustrated breath. Chris was thrown off by how easy it was to come to an agreement with her. It felt wrong somehow. There had to be an ulterior motive- with her there always was- but he really did not want to dwell on it. For now ,at least, there would be peace and that was enough for him.

Now he wanted to get the hell out of this court. 

Your heart felt heavy as you walked down the halls. Mingyu had once again accompanied you down to breakfast this morning, you could tell the man wanted to say something about the distant look in your eyes but he did not. You thanked him for walking you and he bowed then opened the double doors leading to the dining room. 

Walking into the room you could see that only your mother and queen Jeonywon were seated at the table enjoying a few pastries. The other Queen was the first to notice you as you entered, “Ah Y/n dear, come join us. We were discussing the floral arrangements for the ceremony.” 

“Good morning Mother. Good morning, your majesty.” You greeted them both politely before you took your seat in front of the two women. 

“Yes yes, good morning, anyways Jeonywon I was thinking something classy,” Your mother began, barely paying you any mind like usual. “Perhaps camellias. The dark pink blush color would go quite heavenly with Y/n’s complexion.” 

“Hmm, that may be a nice choice. I suppose some babies breathe and some Cymbidium would do well as fillers…” 

You began to drown them out, not really caring much for the conversation since you knew you wouldn’t get a say in anything either way.. As if it wasn’t your wedding.. 

As tasty as you knew the food to be, you did not have much of an appetite so you only lightly picked at some fruit so as to not draw attention to you not eating. After managing to get down a single strawberry you went to take a drink of some water. You lifted your crystal glass up to your mouth and took a sip, but as you were lowering it back down you noticed a strange reflection in the glass, like someone was standing directly behind you. No, not just someone.. 

You could see a reflection of Minho staring back at you. 

A startled gasp escaped you and you whipped your head around to look behind you. There was no one there, only the servants who stood along the edge of the room. Nothing and no one out of the ordinary. ‘Was I just imagining it?’ You must have been, there was no way Minho was here. 

“Y/n, are you alright?” 

Dammit, you forgot about the other two women with you at the table. You nodded in response, “Yes, your majesty. My apologies for the outburst, I had a.. Tickle that startled me.” 

It was not a very good lie but it seemed to convince them both anyways. “Well finish up your breakfast dear, we have a meeting with the modiste shortly and we mustn't be late.” 

“A meeting with the modiste, mother?” You were slightly confused and unable to put the pieces together. 

“For your wedding gown. We only have a few days to prepare so every second counts.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip and lightly pushed your plate away from you, definitely not up to eating any longer. 

The three of you had loaded into the most pristine carriage that your family owned (your mother clearly wanted to show off our best assets to the other ruler), and you were on your way into the town. The carriage passed by the bustling streets filled with the common people going about their day. You could see people selling their wares in little stalls and a few working men on their way to work. Of course there were also a few people stopping to stare and point at the sight of the royal carriage being pulled by the pure white horses. 

You wished you were out there with them instead of stuck in this cramped compartment on your way to imminent doom. That’s how you felt, at least. Being here with these two chattering queens was almost like literal torture for you as they yammered on and on about what type of lace and stitching would be best for your dress.

Looking out into the crowds you noticed a few familiar faces; A woman named Kate who sold flowers was setting up her bouquets, a young man that you knew from the tavern was walking with a small child in his arms, and you even caught a glimpse of Vernon as he exited a shop. 

A flash of dark hair and pointed ears caught your attention. Standing there on the side of the road in the middle of the crowd was Minho. You leaned over towards the window of the carriage to get a better look, but just as quickly as you saw him he was gone, vanished without a trace as if he was never even there. Using your closed fist you rubbed your eyes and sat back into your seat once again. 

What is going on? Am I actually losing my mind?

Maybe you were losing your mind. Maybe everything you experienced, everything you saw was just insanity. It had to be- it didn’t seem plausible that you were the only one that could see them for what they were or could be the only one to see him now. That's what it was, you decided. Just insanity brought on by the stress of your arranged marriage. You would get through this next week and your premonitions would cease. There was no such thing as faeries. There was no Chris and Minho. 

Or.. 

They were toying with you. Perhaps they were using their tricks on you to make you think you’ve gone insane. If what Mara said was to be believed and true, then the otherworldly beings did not hold the same morals or ethics as most mortals do. Minho had said that humans only see what the fae wanted them too. So there was a very real possibility that all you were to them was a plaything.

You were not sure which option hurt you the most. 

Your panicked thoughts were interrupted by the sudden stop of the carriage. Glancing out the window again you saw you had made it to the modiste. You were so lost in your own mind after seeing Minho that you had completely blanked out the majority of the ride. 

A footsman opened the carriage door with a bow and held a hand out to help you out. With a hand on your hems to keep from tripping you were led out and into the store. 

A woman you had never met before greeted you all you entered. She clasped her hands out in front of her and offered a bow to the queen's first and then to you. “Welcome your majesties.  Welcome your highness. I am so grateful and pleased to have you in my shop.” 

You glanced around the shop, not seeing the elderly woman who usually attended to you when you visited. “Where is Dohee?” 

“Oh, Ms. Dohee was my teacher and after she felt I had completed my apprenticeship she retired and left the shop to me.” The girl blushed and tucked some hair behind her ear. She was pretty, you noticed, and seemed to be around your age. “My name is Lisa. It is my ultimate pleasure to make your acquaintance, your highness.” 

“It is nice to meet you as well.” You offered a shy smile. 

“Lisa,” Your mother began as she browsed the different racks of fabrics, “I trust you have something drawn up for us to see?” 

The girl nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, your majesty!” She pulled out a large sketchbook and flipped to the back of the pages and brought it over to you and the Queens. “I began to work something up the second I was informed of the engagement. I was up all night, actually.” 

Lisa presented you with a drawing of an elegant gown that had a tight fitted bodice and puffed sleeves. It was a nice drawing but it did not really feel like what you imagined your dress to look like. Before you could respond with those exact words your mother cut you off and snatched the book away from you. “Now this is just splendid! Exactly what I was thinking.” 

Lisa beamed and gave another small bow in gratitude. “I am so happy to hear that, your majesty does have fine taste indeed. And how about you, your highness?” She asked you. 

“Well actually perhaps we-” 

“She loves it.” Once again you couldn’t get your own words out. You begin to feel the tips of your ears heat up in frustration but you bite your tongue. “My daughter is an elegant girl and needs an elegant dress. Right, dear?” Your mother slightly narrowed her eyes at you with an unspoken threat to make you agree. 

You wrung your hands together and gave a tentative nod, “Yes, of course mother.” 

Queen Jeonywon took a look at the sketch next, “How beautiful! Kookie is just going to love this.” She nodded in approval then handed the sketchbook back to Lisa.

Lisa ushered you onto the pedestal and pulled out a few measuring tapes. You do not know why you were hopeful that maybe you would have gotten even a slight say in your dress, but it was very apparent to you as the two matriarchs droned on about what lace they think would be best and how long the train should be that this was not really your wedding; it was more for them than anything else. 

These last twenty four hours felt like a fever dream - and perhaps it still was, that notion was still up in the air for you-  but you just wanted it to end.You felt weak and powerless, not the glowing bride you wanted to be. A wedding was supposed to be a joyous occasion, one shared between lovers and friends. It was supposed to be about love, not whatever farce this was. 

An overwhelming bout of panic hit you like a train suddenly. This was all becoming too much for you to handle. Your chest was beginning to feel tight and you felt your breathing start picking up.  Shakily you lifted a hand and placed it on your heart in an attempt to quell its harsh beating. You vaguely recognized Lisa’s voice asking you to put your hand down so she can continue but her words went in one ear and out of the other. 

Blurry spots began to form in your vision and extreme dizziness made you stumble back. Your hand that was on your heart now has migrated up to your head. Your breathing got even more accelerated and you felt your lungs burn.

“Your highness, are you alright?” 

That was the last thing you heard before you went toppling down into darkness. 

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[wickedscribbles]

whoever makes my baby cry (is gonna lose some teeth tonight) ch. 4 (final)

Masterlist

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch.3

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: smut, fluff, pet names, biting, rimming, enthusiastic consent, multiple orgasms, messy sex, power bottom Logan, top Wade, teasing/banter, dirty talk, anal sex, mild genderplay

Word Count: 5K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

Wade has him on his back so fast the world tilts.

Logan’s willing to go where he wants, especially if that place is upside down on their mattress. He lands hard enough to bounce a little, huffing out a laugh, the sound ending in a pleased hum as Wade goes right back to kissing him. He wraps his legs around Wade’s waist, cups his face in his hands, wanting to touch him everywhere. This is the kind of prelude to sex that leaves him breathless; not too fast, not too slow, the anticipation of it all clinging to their skin like static.

Above him, Wade can’t seem to decide if he wants to keep kissing him – rough and enthusiastic – or talk about everything that's coming next.

“God, you looked so fucking hot punching that walking protozoa –” he gasps the words right into Logan’s mouth, and Logan can only grin back, chasing Wade’s lips for more. “Love it when you’re mean like that –”

“Oh, do you?”

“You know I do, smartass,” Wade says, his tone and his face so full of love that he might as well have called him angel. His mouth travels to the sensitive place under Logan’s jaw, teasing with teeth. “Will you tear someone in half for me next time? Will you tear me in half?”

Logan can’t stop fucking smiling. Even as he arches up and into the kisses tracing along the line of his throat, he’s smiling, feeling floaty and stupid and turned on.

“Not in the apartment, ya freak,” he manages.

He isn’t deterred. “Your freak,” Wade says. “And no, I'd wait til we took a little trip out to the woods like you want.”

“I'd like that.”

“Tearing me in half?” Wade's mouth pauses, hot and wet, at Logan's collarbone to ask the question.

“Takin’ a trip,” Logan corrects, panting a little now. Squirming for more attention, his cock hard trapped between their bodies.

“Oh, okay, okay. So we can screw in the woods without having to worry about staining the sheets? And play out the ‘fucking a lumberjack’ fantasy one of us may or may not be harboring?”

Logan raises an eyebrow at the lumberjack bit, but chooses to say nothing. Hey, whatever floats his boat. God knows they’ve done far stranger things.

“Sure. Or fuckin’ up the carpet. Been a minute since we had a real rollaround.”

Wade hums his agreement at that, trailing a delicate hand down the length of Logan’s bicep, then his forearm, until their fingertips are touching. Logan’s fingers twitch when he touches them, their hands intertwining. Willingly, he lets Wade bring his hand to his mouth – knows instantly what he wants him to do. He opens his mouth and takes Wade’s fingers on his tongue.

“Good boy,” Wade breathes, and Logan can feel himself leaking in his boxers, dripping a spot against the cotton. He pants out a shaky sort of noise in answer, maybe an agreement or disagreement to the praise, he doesn't know, can’t think. “Yeah, you know just what to do, don’t you?”

His lips close around what's in his mouth, tight, sucking at them just like he'd sucked Wade's cock this morning. Getting them sloppy, dribbling with spit, some of it stringing out of his mouth and into his facial hair. There are still days when they're in too big of a damn hurry to care, but this foreplay is erotic on its own, too.

For a while, they linger suspended in that moment, Wade straddling his lap and watching with fascinated eyes as his fingers move slowly in and out of Logan's mouth. They look at each other, into each other, long past the shyness.

The way Wade looks at him still makes Logan burn, two parts of him trying to run away from one another. It's nice to be wanted. It's terrifying to be wanted. He thinks that the fear of ruining this is getting quieter, though. He hopes.

“Wanna try something,” Wade says all at once, his face brightening with the type of mischief Logan knows only too well. “Here – lift up for a minute –”

Letting Wade’s fingers slide out of his mouth, he does as he's told, spreading his legs a little wider as Wade reaches behind them for one of the pillows. He places it just underneath Logan's hips, turning his attention back to his naked torso, raining kisses on his body.

“Need these off,” Wade murmurs, almost to himself, tugging at Logan's boxers. Breathing shakily, he obliges him, kicking them to the floor. His cock springs up as Wade sheds him pajamas as well, resting heavy above his abdomen in anticipation. He's fucking restless for something, anything, a flurry of past positions floating past his eyes like a slideshow.

For a few seconds, Logan thinks it's his turn to get sucked off, and he's definitely not complaining. Wade lavishes attention on the meeting of his hip and thigh, biting in just the right way to make Logan jump, smirking to himself when he earns an arch off the mattress for more. Logan's palm rests on his head, encouraging. Trusting.

But he bypasses Logan's cock like it's not there. Instead, he trails past, licking a stripe down his balls, pressing his scarred palms to Logan's thighs to spread them wider, and – oh. Oh okay. Wade’s hot breath hesitates over his hole for only an instant before his tongue is tracing the most delicate circles.

“F-fuck!”

Logan squirms at the unexpected sensation, curling his toes. He feels Wade's hands twitch where they rest on his inner thighs, and looks down to see him looking back.

“Okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, s’good, I just didn't know –” Logan answers, far too quickly. He blinks, a lot, in an effort to remember how to put one word in front of the other. “You can keep going. If you want.”

“If I want,” Wade repeats wryly. “Yeah, okay, champ.”

Only capable of swallowing hard in response, Logan lets his head fall back against the mattress, his whole body tense with the thought of what's going to happen next. He feels Wade's breath back at his hole, and God, it's so sensitive there, his tongue lapping at him as he spreads his legs further.

It's not quite like anything he's felt before. It's good.

“Relax,” comes Wade's voice, light with amusement before his fucking tongue goes right back to Logan's ass. His knee gets pushed up, opening him like an old paperback.

He's aware that his chest is rising and falling and rising and falling, a rapid in and out. The little circles that Wade traces with his tongue shift into broader strokes, something deeper. Logan moans with the change, thrusting up into nothing.

“Feels so fuckin’ good, Red,” he says softly, his voice coming out smaller than he thought it would. “I don’t, I haven’t –n-never –”

He’s aware that he doesn’t make any sense, but Wade doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it encourages him, a low hum drawn from the other man’s throat as he pulls away to look at him. His eyes are massive between the vee of Logan’s legs.

“Never ever? Am I actually taking a sweet, precious piece of your virginity?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan whines. “Keep going.”

Wade ducks back down, but not before babbling something about best day of his life and definitely going on Tumblr (and it had better not).

He can’t wait anymore for Wade to touch him, fuck him, whatever he’d planned to add to the mix. Getting eaten out is such a tease but he needs more and he needs it now. Logan grasps his cock, already slippery with pre-come, and starts a rhythm that has his head swimming immediately.

With a hiss, Wade digs his nails into the flesh of his thighs, groaning into him. Logan has a feeling that if his mouth were free to say something, he’d be giving him a string of encouragement. Shit, even imagining what Wade would be saying is enough to turn him on.

Moaning out something that strongly resembles Wade’s name buried in a sea of praise, Logan grinds back on his face, chasing more, so so so close.

That’s it, baby, the Wade in his head says. Actual Wade is panting hard against his ass now, getting sloppy. Come for me. Know you want to. Pretty pretty please.

Logan’s eyes roll back. He comes in frenetic bursts all over Wade’s face and shoulder, vaguely aware that now he has pulled away to praise him, kissing up and down Logan's thigh to watch the whole show. Logan's hands scrabble in the sheets, some pathetic little sound coming out of his throat.

“Peanut, Jesus fucking Christ…”

He says something like ungh in answer, looking down at Wade covered in his come. He is so hot with that satisfied smirk on his face, it’s ridiculous. And then he takes a finger and drags it across the side of his face, where there’s a streak of Logan’s spend, and pops it into his mouth.

Fuck, okay.

Barely done from their first round, Logan’s cock twitches again.

“Got me good, Pollock,” Wade comments, still wearing that crooked grin that makes his heart do shit that Logan would worry about if he didn’t know it was always healing. “You liked that, huh?”

It takes a lot to resist the urge to say no shit, but Logan manages. Instead, he runs his hand up and down Wade’s cheek, feeling his spend there all sticky, his mind swimming with sex-drunk praise (you’resofuckingprettywantyousobadithurts).

“Gonna sit on your dick now,” he says instead, and Wade backs off of him fast to allow that to happen.

Their places swapped, Logan palms at Wade’s cock tenderly, not missing the way Wade’s lips part on a soft little ah of need. Wade’s dick is damn near perfect, fulfilling every stupid fantasy Logan had before he worked up the guts to come knocking on his door and do something about it. Bottoming out on Wade still stretches him out so full and delicious, turns him dumb in a way that topping him doesn’t – though he won't say no to either.

He lifts his hips, situating Wade underneath him, when he sees two fingers trailing up his chest.

“Sure you’re wet enough?” Wade teases. “Could finger you a little more, just to be safe.”

Fingertips land on Logan’s mouth, and oh, does this man know how to push his luck. Faking a scowl, Logan takes Wade’s middle finger playfully between his teeth and bites down hard, breaking skin and crushing bone. Blood wells up all at once, his mouth full of copper, and Wade gasps in delight as his cock twitches against Logan’s inner thigh.

“There’s my kitty cat,” he praises, grinning like floodlights. Though broken, his finger is still hanging on after he pulls it away. “Aww, you didn't bite it off this time.”

“‘M feelin’ generous.”

“God!” Wade laughs as Logan guides himself down, trailing off halfway through whatever quip he’d cooked up. He grabs Logan's thighs, moaning at the sensation. “Fuck, princess, you’re still so fuckin’ tight –”

As Logan seats himself fully, he can tell that Wade’s already regretting not being on top. His mouth is doing that cute little scrunch thing it does when he gets impatient. But Logan loves seeing Wade all desperate, too horny to think straight, begging to fuck him or be fucked. If Logan weren’t just as desperate half the time, he’d make Wade wait ages for what he wants. Maybe someday they’ll cool down enough to try that.

Maybe.

Because despite having already come once already, Logan’s not in much better shape. Getting eaten out had eased the way for Wade inside him, but the stretch is still toeing the edge of pain and bliss. He knows as soon as they move, it’ll melt nicely into the latter.

“Hurry up and fuck me,” Wade says, pouting. He’s already breathless, his face flushed, gripping Logan’s thighs so hard that they’re bruising and healing and bruising again in a continuous cycle. It’s so hot. “Please please please, you’re so tight, I’m not gonna last, please.”

If that doesn’t light Logan up from the inside out, nothing will.

Pausing only to give him a yeah, okay, Logan grinds his hips down hard. Wade’s answering whine is like magic, high and keening, something that Logan’s going to replay in his mind over and over like the mixtapes high schoolers used to make for each other to flirt. He could probably pick out each individual note, tell you the crescendo, see the arc of it burned on the inside of his eyelids.

Wade looks like a porn star underneath him, mouth hanging open, eyes unfocused, hips meeting Logan’s perfectly every – fucking – time. Logan’s cock is flushed and hard between them again, slapping skin with every thrust.

“Logan,” Wade moans out.

Logan’s thrusts get just a little harder, a little faster. That tight tight sensation of climax sits somewhere in the bottom of his stomach, in reach if he worked for it, but he’s nowhere as close as Wade is. Wade’s delirious with it, right there sitting on the brink, and Logan feels like he’s on fire with how sexy he finds the man.

“Yeah?” Logan purrs back.

“So fuckin’ close, right there, gonna come –”

“I can tell.”

Later, Wade will give him shit for being such a tease – and tell him how hot it was. But for now, Logan pins both of Wade’s wrists in place, knowing he’ll try to cover his face. He wants to watch the whole show, not just the trailer. He lets his fingers trace through the other man’s, a part of him loving the added intimacy, and greedily takes in every second of Wade coming inside him.

“Lo-ogan, ah, shit shit shit –!”

Wade rolls his hips up slow and deep as he comes, head thrown back, filling Logan with warmth. Logan honest-to-God shivers, knowing his cock is drooling all over Wade’s stomach just from watching him. Playing with him a little, Logan gently thrusts down, stimulating him through the aftershocks just to watch him gasp and jolt. The little sounds he makes after coming, all fucked-out and satiated, are right up there for Logan with the usual sounds of sex.

(Huh. Maybe he likes Wade’s voice even more than he thought.)

Wade's face is still flushed when he can make eye contact again, and Logan only smiles at him, pleased with himself.

“No fair,” Wade grumbles.

Logan leans down to kiss him, bumping their foreheads together. They’re both covered in a fine sheen of sweat, among other things, and he lingers there to get Wade to kiss him back nice and slow. At this point, he really does feel drunk, heavy-limbed and satisfied without the theoretical liver damage.

“Don’t see what’s unfair about it,” Logan replies once they’ve broken away again. “Just gave me a damn good show on top of a phenomenal fuck. If I could reach my wallet right now, I’d tip ya.”

“Peanut, I swear on Fox Studio’s grave, if you keep pulling this kind of dialogue out of nowhere I’m going to have a stroke.” Wade turns to glare at a random corner of the room. “And you had better watch it. We did not talk about this before the chapter started.”

Threats to no one aside, Logan just shakes his head, unfazed. Something makes him want to keep talking, and he’s not sure if it’s how loose and warm his body feels, or the day they’ve had, or a combination of both.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you come,” he confesses, and Wade looks up at him with what can only be described as a mix of shock and horror.

“Oooookay, that’s enough for you, big guy –”

Wade struggles to get out from underneath him, attempting to lift his hips, but it’s no use. Logan sees it coming and shifts his weight more fully onto the mattress, effectively trapping him in place.

“Nope,” he says, unable to keep from sounding a little smug. “Think I’m gonna set my big adamantium ass right here until you learn to take a compliment.”

“Yeah? And what if I shoot my way out?”

It doesn’t surprise Logan in the slightest when Wade pulls the .45 from behind the headboard and aims it between his eyes. It does, however, annoy him. He sinks down further, aware that Wade’s gone soft, come slipping loose in a steady stream between their bodies onto the sheets.

“Rhonda’s gonna be pissed if she hears a gunshot, you know that. Slap us with another fee for damages, and I sure as shit ain’t coverin’ it just because you don’t want to hear how goddamn good you look.”

Wade’s finger plays with the trigger, stroking it as if in thought. His mouth scrunches. In all honesty, Logan wouldn’t mind a shot or two – it’s been a while since he’s taken one, and he knows Wade wouldn’t get him anywhere awful. They like each other well enough to spare major head wounds now, and that’s typically the only unspoken rule.

But to his surprise, Wade puts the gun back where he’d stashed it, flopping his head back on the pillows with a dramatic sigh.

“Fine, you monumental pain in my ass. What else do you want to tell me that’s so important?”

Logan pauses a moment, amused. He wasn’t quite sure he’d get this far. Half of him pictured this ending in an all-out bloodbath – the kind they’d have to replace the sheets and the carpet for. Maybe even have to paint the walls again. God, he wishes they didn’t live in a fucking apartment – or the city.

“You’re hot as hell, Wade,” he starts. Wade’s mouth is very scrunched, eyebrows drawn down in a similar pout. He looks like he’d rather be sitting on a stick of lit dynamite than listening to this. “What, you didn’t think I thought that? When we’ve been fuckin’ each other senseless for this long?”

“Just thought maybe I had a magic dick,” Wade mutters.

“Hah. Never said you don’t.”

Logan finally lets Wade’s cock slip out of him entirely, crawling up until his mouth is inches from Wade’s. The proximity makes the other man’s eyes dilate, breath catching, and Logan could live off of the thick smell of sweat and lust and come they’ve created in this room together.

He kisses Wade, quick, just a taste, and leaves him wanting more.

“You’re fuckin’ funny.”

Another kiss, this time a little deeper, Wade reaching up for him with half a grin on his face. He’s getting hard again – Logan can feel it against the muscles of his abdomen. The next time Wade's mouth collides with his, he brings teeth, taking Logan's bottom lip and pulling hard enough to make him moan.

“You’re – wild – to watch in a fight. Sweet – to the people you care about.”

They’re making out in earnest now, Logan gasping to get the words out as Wade drinks him up.

“You –uh!”

Caught off guard, Logan doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence as Wade flips him on his side. Nose to nose with one another now, he lets Wade continue his desperate barrage of kisses, hooking an arm around Logan’s neck. Their stiff cocks rub together, tantalizing friction, and Wade trails his lips to Logan’s ear.

“You like me all that much, get on your hands and knees.”

His voice is low and sultry in a way that lets Logan know that they’re far from done. Laughing softly, Logan does as he asks, Wade moving around him as if they’re different parts of the same body. Planting his palms on the mattress, he closes his eyes in anticipation. Wade slides his cock against his ass, the briefest tease, before placing himself at his entrance.

He doesn't waste time pushing back inside. Logan's body takes him easily, a breathless sound of excitement leaving him as Wade’s hands come to settle on his hips. Though he can't see Wade's face, he can feel the shift in energy – he can hear Wade's heart pumping fast, sense his heightened enthusiasm.

Settled inside Logan up to the hilt, Wade shifts his hips in a lazy figure eight.

“You ready?”

Logan nods, his uh-huh coming out like a groan of pleasure. He stares down at his own spread hands, the ruined sheets, biting his lip as Wade continues to tease him.

It doesn't last long. Less than a second passes between his confirmation and Wade’s first sharp thrust, bullying Logan forward before he can get his bearings. Wade wastes no time in setting a punishing rhythm, leaving him helpless to do anything but arch back into what he's getting.

He pants and moans every time Wade comes close to nailing that spot, feeling his claws start to slip out bit by bit. Their mattress topper is in bits and pieces under the cover of the sheet, more foam chunks than anything now, and he's about to make it a lot worse. Logan lets himself sink claws deep into the padding, leaning his face forward into the pillows to muffle the most embarrassing of the noises he's making.

Wade isn't letting him get away that easily.

“That's my fucking big boy,” he breathes, and Logan lights up with a blush bright enough to color his fucking chest. His cock jumps. “Take me so well every time, don't ya? Every – fuckin' – inch?”

Oh god oh fuck.

“Wade,” he says into the pillows, practically mewling out the word. Latched into the mattress with his claws anchoring him in place as Wade nails that incredible place right there oh fuck oh Christ. “Hah, fuck, you gotta slow down, or – I –”

“Or what, sweetheart?”

A clever hand reaches around to jerk Logan's cock, nice and deep the way he needs it, and Logan moans so deep in his throat it comes out more like a growl. Wade matches his thrusts in time, slower now but fuller, getting Logan to cry out louder than he'd ever admit he gets.

“You gotta slow down, Red,” Logan manages to repeat, but he already knows it's no use. “Gotta s-slow down, oh f-fuck!”

He comes much harder than he thought he would, hissing out a string of swears into the poor abused mattress. Coating the sheets below him, watching as some dribbles onto his thigh. Wade pushes his hips higher, fucking him through it like it's easy, his fingers brushing soothing circles as Logan shivers and spills and pants.

His whole body tingles with that sensitive sensation he's come to equate with powerfully good sex, with a certain look in Wade's eyes or a tone in his voice. He's going to feel this later, the honey-hum ache lingering in every muscle, but it's more than worth it.

“Flip over,” Logan insists after the moment has passed. “Wanna watch you come again.”

A cocky tsk from behind him catches Logan off guard. A gentle hand lands on the curve of his ass. Loving.

“Aw, peanut. Baby. Who said you were done?” Wade’s voice comes out light and cheerful, but they both know what the undercurrent holds.

Yeah, he's definitely in his bossy little top mood now, Logan thinks. Not that he doesn't find it incredibly hot. But it's also fun to be a bit of a brat every once and a while.

“Don't think I can,” he tries, sliding his claws out of the mattress but settling firmly. “C'mon, Wade. Fuck me ‘til you finish.” Logan hesitates. “Please?”

An equally long pause. He can almost hear Wade thinking.

“Nahhh,” he decides. “You can do one more for me, then I'll fill you up until you fucking drip.”

This time, the pointed gap in the air is for Logan to really say no, use a safe word, if he needs to. And he definitely doesn't need to, doesn't want to. Besides, he's never been one to back away from a challenge, especially if it's Wade who's handing it out.

“Yes, sir,” Logan says mockingly, lifting his ass back up in the air.

He hears Wade make a strangled little noise of want before gripping his ass tight.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls, pushing Logan down until he's flat on his stomach on the bed.

Logan’s pretty sure he whines at that. It’s hard to tell anymore.

To say that the sheets are saturated in come would be an understatement at this point, but Logan can't focus on that as much as he's focusing on getting hard again, Wade’s teeth sinking deep into the side of his neck. The pain is nothing compared to the pleasure, a drop of water in the ocean – and Logan’s fucking dying of thirst.

He breaks the skin. Granted, it takes a little more effort for him to do it than it does for Logan, but he doesn’t mind the extra gnashing around. Chewing on his neck like it’s a goddamned squeaky toy. He’s flattered by it, in a way, that Wade would do all that just to spill blood for sex.

Wade’s tongue laps at the ring of blood he’s produced as he presses into his ass again, slow, and Logan can tell that he’s trying to hold back. To really spoil him with this extra orgasm, instead of keeping it all tit for tat. He doesn’t know why – he’ll pester him later about it and only get ‘cause I love you and I wanted to, you fuckin’ beefslab of a man, in answer.

But right now, Wade’s hot, panting mouth trails to Logan’s ear, and his teeth pull on the lobe, hard. Logan bares his neck further with a near silent intake of breath, wordless permission, and that’s all that Wade needs. Without further ado, Wade’s teeth seize around the loose cartilage and bite, ripping it off in a gush of blood.

“Fuck –!” Logan hisses, feeling the warmth of it trickle down on the sheets near his face.

“I’m trying my best, dollface,” Wade says sweetly in reply. Logan wishes he could see him. “You have no idea how good you look like that, all spread out like a two dollar whore on nickel night. Really putting my stamina to the test.”

He sighs, moving his hips so gently he may as well not be moving them at all. Despite insisting that Wade come a final time so that they could be finished with the whole romp, Logan finds himself growing impatient. There’s blood in it for him now, literally, and his cock is throbbing where it’s trapped against his stomach and the bed.

“But when a Scout makes a promise, they keep a promise. Right?”

“I promise you’re a pain in my ass,” Logan huffs. “Wade, c’mon, if you’re gonna fuck me then fuck me, don’t just –”

The words screw around are a little lost in the sudden snapping of Wade’s hips. Logan gasps instead, taken off guard by the instant ferocity of it. One of Wade’s hands grips a fistful of Logan’s hair, rough, incredible, while the other palm stays firm at his hip, holding them both in place.

“What were you saying, honey badger?” Though the words are innocent, Wade’s voice hits his (regenerating) ear in a mocking growl, all exertion.

Logan can’t even form a fucking sentence, let alone a smartass response. Wade knows him well enough, is smart enough to know exactly where his prostate is, how deep to press and for how long. He can play his body like an instrument few have taken the time to learn, let alone master.

Sinking his claws back into the mattress, scrabbling for any sort of purchase, Logan presses his face into the pillows with a desperate sound. He wants to tell Wade how good it feels, that he’s nailing his prostate just right, stirring up a heat inside of him that no one’s ever quite hit before, so good he wants to sob, but all he can do is lie there ass up and gasp out with every thrust. He tries to match Wade’s pace, hold the rhythm.

“Am I nailing your g-spot, baby?” Wade purrs, and something like scandal and delight war for attention in Logan’s mind. “Yeah, I feel you, pussy so fuckin’ tight.”

“Wade, o-oh Christ,” he says, breath hitching. Tears sting the corners of his eyes and he’s torn between so many points of pleasure and his cock is gliding as Wade pushes him forward, he’s going to come again, just as Wade had said he would – “ – Wade, Wade, Wade –”

He’s still chanting Wade’s name, voice rising an octave or so, as orgasm hits him like a goddamn train. The warmth of it coats his belly and chest, his face muffled deep into the pillows – tears and spit dampening the material. He arches back hard as Wade thrusts a handful of times to finish not long behind him.

“Fuck,” Wade says under his breath. “Kitty cat, oh fuck yes.”

The quiet that falls after, only their combined breath, is so deep and peaceful that Logan passes out almost right away. He isn’t sure how long Wade lets him sleep – only that he wakes up to his shoulder being shaken gently, Wade standing beside the bed with a fond smirk on his face.

“You’re gonna be stuck to the bed if you stay there like that, cowboy,” he tells him, offering a hand to help him up. “C’mon. Let’s get clean.”

Logan makes a grumpy sort of sound, too comfortable to want to move. “Only if we get to sleep all day tomorrow.”

Wade’s face brightens at the idea. “Fuck yeah – pile all the blankets on the couch and order takeout?”

It sounds like a dream come true.

“Yeah.”

Logan takes his hand. Once they’re clean, with the sheets and blankets replaced, it’s the deepest and most comfortable sleep of his life.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Question: how do you feel about Black writers with Black OCs with traits that may fit certain stereotypes at first glance? For example, one of my OCs is a psychologist. She's intelligent enough to have 2 doctorates, and a gentle hearted therapist.

I'm worried because she might fall into the Mammy trope. Giving too much of herself to build others up. Part of the reason I made her with that specific profession is because I never see Black women in mental health. Definitely not in fiction and honestly? Barely IRL. We are nurses but never doctors. I'm not sure if my intent outweighs what may be on the surface.

What do you think?

[I love your blog and your work. I have had to look at my own OCs harder and I thank you for giving me the tools to question and better myself. ]

To your example: My good sis, I'm going to give you the same answer I give everyone else!

There's nothing wrong with your character off rip. I'm glad that you're writing that representation you want to see! You've already done some of the footwork here- recognizing that she gives too much of herself to lift others up! How do you as the writer treat that? Do you recognize that? Is it your intention that your readers say "hey, she sure does this a lot, is she going to care for herself?" Does your plot intend to address this within her and allow her to grow, which may mean letting others care for her, or putting some of that weight down on her own? Or do you treat her as though that's just Her Role and everyone else (usually white characters) benefits from that?

As for your first question, it honestly depends. I usually have more grace for the intentions of Black writers, mainly bc I expect that we are more aware of what we're writing about ourselves. For example, I can watch Menace II Society and go "ah! Okay. Yeah there are gang bangers here, but they are there to tell a specific story. This is not what the author thinks we all are, this is them telling about the world around them". Unfortunately I can't have that much grace off rip with nonblack writers.

That said, if something is a stereotype, it's gone be a stereotype regardless of who wrote it. Antiblackness is very often perpetuated by Black people who may have certain destructive beliefs about themselves. I think Soul Food is the most misogynoiristic films I've ever seen, and it's written and directed by a Black man 😅 So yeah, we can always take time to step back and look at how we can improve our own work.

[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat, Chapter 7:Her Vulnerability

Summary: Wednesday blames you as the reason she let her guard down, for the vulnerability that came with you.

Warning: Light Angst. Wednesday is back. !Mentions of death of a parent! Slow Burn.

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

Worklist.

Your heart raced as you grabbed your phone, frantically dialing your dad’s number. This wasn’t a “handle it yourself” kind of situation. You had nine high people on your hands, one of them being Wednesday Addams, and you knew things could go downhill fast.

"Dad.." you began, your voice shaky..

He definitely sensed the panic in your voice. “What happened? Everything alright?”

“Uh, not exactly,” you said, glancing nervously at the group. “So... Dad, do you remember how you always said if I ever needed you, no matter how stupid the reason, you’d come?”

Your dad paused, immediately suspicious. “Yeah? What did you do?”

“Okay, first of all, this is not my fault.” You shot a look toward Rick, who was now trying to chase his own shadow in circles, laughing like a maniac. “But... everyone here might be, uh, high. And Wednesday, well, she’s... Let’s just say I need help. Fast.”

Your dad’s voice came back with a groan. “Hey! You told me you guys were camping, what kind of camps do they even run?"

“We were camping, Dad! It’s an accident!” you snapped, frustration bubbling over. “Stop asking questions and just get here!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there. What do I even bring to deal with this?” he asked,

You blinked, unsure how to answer. “Uh, a tranquilizer gun?”

Your dad chuckled. “I’ll figure it out. See you soon. Try to keep the casualties to a minimum.”

“Great,” you muttered. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll be here... herding drunk cats.”

As you hung up, you sighed in relief but immediately felt the weight of the situation crash back in.

“Y/n,”

You jumped, nearly dropping your phone. “What the—Wednesday! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“You need to lift the magic.”

“Magic? What magic?” You frowned, thrown off by the comment.

“The one that keeps making me think about you all the time. Like right now. Like when I sleep.” She leaned closer, "It makes me feel... weird. Like... like I should stab you. But I can’t. I try, but it doesn’t feel right. Anyone else, I’d stab them. Like... like Brooke.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral. “Okay, but let’s agree not to stab Brooke,” you said, gently taking her arm.

Just then you heard Alex shout from across the camp. “Oh, baby! You complete me!”

“Oh, for the love of—” you groaned, rushing over to see Alex, arms wrapped around a thick tree trunk, “Alex, what the hell are you doing?”

Alex, now fully invested in his "relationship" with the tree, was whispering sweet nothings into its bark. "You're so... strong. You never hurt me, even when I hit you. I think... I love you."

"Alex!" You groaned, "Stop groping the tree. It doesn’t love you back."

He glanced at you, wide-eyed and sincere. “She… she gets me. She understands me. I love her.”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering if you should laugh or cry. “Alex, it’s a tree.”

“Don’t insult her!” he cried dramatically, clutching the bark tighter. “She’s... she’s the love of my life.”

“Rick! Don’t get in the water!” you shouted as you caught sight of him staggering toward the lake.

Rick paused, looked back, and said, “But the water… it calls to me!”

“No! You’ll drown!” You sprinted over, grabbing his arm and yanking him back just in time. He stumbled but managed to stay upright, looking at you as if you’d just ruined his dreams.

“Aw, come on! I just wanted to see the dolphin.”

“It's a lake Rick! There are no dolphins! Stay away from the water!”

You sighed, glancing around the camp to see what fresh disaster awaited you. And then, your heart stopped.

"Wednesday, don’t stab Brooke!" you shouted, seeing Wednesday approaching Brooke with a knife in hand.

“Why not?” Wednesday replied, her voice dangerously calm. “She looks stab-worthy.”

For a second, you thought you were in the clear—until Wednesday moved behind Brooke and, with one swift motion, sliced off her ponytail.

Brooke just kept laughing. “Hey! Free haircut!”

“Wednesday, what the hell!" you cried.

She turned to you with an unsettling smirk, eyes still glazed but sharp. Without warning, she threw the knife at you. You yelped, dodging just in time as the blade embedded itself in the tree behind you. “Seriously?!”

She grinned, grabbing another knife from god knows where. “It’s a game, Y/n. You dodge, I throw.” You ducked again as the second knife sailed past your head. “How many knives do you even have?!” “Enough,” she said, her lips curling into a wicked smile. Before you could react, she pulled out another knife from her coat. “Okay, stop!” You ducked as the third knife soared past. “Are you done?” She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “No.” And out came knife number four. You barely dodged it as it flew past your head and stabbed Alex's newlywed wife... "My love! Noooo" Alex cried holding onto the tree.

“You’re really good at dodging,” Wednesday mumbled, her words slurring together. “I might like that about you.”

You weren’t sure whether to be flattered or terrified.

“Wednesday! Are you done?”

She frowned, swaying on her feet. “I’m out of knives."

"Thank god," you muttered but before you could catch your breath you saw Mike, who was trying to roast marshmallows... without the stick. He held the marshmallows directly over the fire with his bare hands, completely unaware of the flames licking at his skin.

“Mike!” you ran over and pulled him away. “Are you trying to set yourself on fire?!”

He blinked at you in confusion. “I was just... hungry.”

“Use a stick next time!” you cried, handing him one.

You sighed as you glanced at Wednesday, who had wandered off again, staring at the moon like it had personally offended her.

You jogged over to her, grabbing her by the arm before she could do anything else drastic. “Wednesday, stay with me, okay? Get a hold of yourself, stop acting weird.”

“I’m not weird,” she muttered, looking up at the sky with unfocused eyes. “The moon is weird. Look at it... all smug up there... thinking it’s so important. I could take it down if I wanted to.”

“Sure, Wednesday,” you said, humoring her. “But let’s not fight the moon right now, okay?”

She blinked, swaying slightly. “Why not? It deserves it. It’s always watching... judging... Like Weems, Can we kill Weems when we go back?”

Rick was running back toward the lake again, you rubbed your temples. “Wednesday, please just sit down, we can kill Weems later, okay?.” you said before going for Rick.

“Rick! No!” You sprinted after him, pulling him away just before he could dive in.

“Man, you’re no fun!” Rick slurred, pouting like a child.

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to keep you all alive!”

Returning to Wednesday, you found her surprisingly obedient for once, sitting by the fire.

“You,” she muttered, pointing a finger at you again. “Why are you always fixing things? Its annoying.”

You sighed, catching your breath. “Trust me, I know.”

“But…” she paused, her brow furrowing in drunken confusion. “I also kind of like that you’re always… there.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, your heart doing a weird little flip despite the chaos. “Oh yeah? Well, I kind of like that you haven’t stabbed anyone yet.”

She smirked, getting up on her feet. “Give me some time.”

Just as you were about to respond, the distant ruffling from the woods.

Your dad had arrived, along with a few camp staff members who clearly had no idea what they were walking into.

“Okay,” your dad said, running a hand through his hair. “What the hell happened here?”

You crossed your arms, gesturing to the group. “This. This happened. Rick spiked the coffee. So… good luck. I’m getting Wednesday out of here. Give me your car keys.”

Your dad hesitated, his brows furrowing. "You don’t have a license yet, Y/n."

"I don’t care," you said firmly, glancing over at Wednesday, who was eyeing everyone with a dangerous gleam. "I need to get her out of here before she really does something."

He stared at you for a moment, then sighed, digging into his pocket and pulling out the car keys. "Here. And take this." He handed you a flashlight. "It’s dark out there."

"Thanks, Dad," you said, pocketing the keys and flashlight.

"Good luck," he called as you started to lead Wednesday away from the mess.

You led Wednesday through the dark jungle, her hand gripped tightly in yours, her steps unsteady but stubborn. Every twig that snapped had you jumping. “You’re scared,” Wednesday observed bluntly. You stiffened. “No, I’m not. I just don’t like… unexpected noises.” “You’re scared,” she repeated, her voice softer now, less mocking. “I can tell.” You sighed. “Okay, fine. Maybe a little. It’s dark and creepy" You walked in silence for a few moments, the jungle seeming to close in around you, the air thick and heavy, but what felt even more dense.. was Wednesday's proximity near you.

“I’m scared too.” her voice softer now, a hint of vulnerability creeping in.

You blinked, “What? You? Scared? Of what?” you asked, half expecting her to say something completely ridiculous, like hugs.

“I’m scared… of getting close to you.” Her words came out slowly, as if she were forcing herself to admit it.

That made you stop in your tracks. You turned to look at her, your heartbeat suddenly louder in your ears.

“I’m scared about that too,” you admitted, voice barely audible over the sounds of the jungle. “I’m scared for you. That you’ll get close to me, and it’ll be... selfish.”

“Selfish?” she echoed, her brow furrowing. “Why would it be selfish?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn't.. you didn't want to lose her... not yet.

Wednesday’s gaze bore into you, waiting for an answer, but you squeezed her hand lightly, leading her forward through the jungle.

"Let’s just get out of here," you murmured.

She didn’t press further, just followed your lead, her steps slow but steady, her grip firm in yours. After what felt like an eternity, you finally saw the road ahead, your dad’s car parked at the edge of the road. Relief washed over you as you reached it. You helped Wednesday into the passenger seat before climbing in behind the wheel. Your hands shook as you gripped the steering wheel.

There was no way you were driving two hours to Nevermore in this state. Your house was only half an hour away, and you were way too tired to push through for that long.

“I’m taking you to my place,” you said, glancing over at Wednesday. “It’s closer.” She blinked slowly, her head resting against the window. “I don’t care… as long as it’s quiet.” You started the car, pulling onto the road and heading toward home. The drive was mostly silent, save for the occasional comment from Wednesday. “You’re a terrible driver,” she mumbled at one point, her eyes half-closed. “Gee, thanks,” you muttered. “And why is your car so… bright?” “It’s a normal car, Wednesday.” “I prefer hearses.” You chuckled, feeling a strange warmth spread through your chest despite the exhaustion. Even drunk, even high, she was still Wednesday Addams.

After what felt like both an eternity and a blink, you finally pulled into your driveway. You hadn’t been gone long, just a week, but somehow it felt like you’d been away for months. You missed it. You helped Wednesday out of the car, guiding her toward the front door. She blinked at the house, her lips curling into a half-frown. “It’s… too clean.” You raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Where are the cobwebs? The dust? It’s too… colorful. It offends me.” You laughed softly, unlocking the door and stepping inside. “Sorry to disappoint. Maybe I can add some cobwebs for you later.” Wednesday grunted, following you in. “You should.” You led her upstairs to the bathroom, handing her a towel and some spare clothes—luckily, you had some black ones. No way were you risking putting her in anything with colours. That might be the last mistake you ever made. "Just… take a shower. I’ll be right outside if you need anything," you said, standing awkwardly by the door. There was a pause, and then the sound of water running. You heard her muttering something under her breath, but you didn’t ask what.

After a few minutes, she emerged, dressed in the black shirt and pants you’d given her. She still looked disheveled, her hair damp and wild.. and... human? "Better?" you asked. She nodded once, her eyes flicking over you. "Tolerable." "Great." You led her to your room, where you helped her onto your bed. "You can sleep here. I’ll take the chair." Wednesday stared at the bed with disdain. “It’s too colorful.” “Would you prefer I get you a coffin?” Her eyes lit up "You can?" “No, I’m fresh out of coffins, so you’re stuck with this.” You said, watching as she reluctantly climbed onto the bed. She lay back, eyeing the bright blankets suspiciously. "Sweet dreams Wends." "Bitter nightmares Y/n." You sat down in the chair, resting your head on the table, exhausted from the day. As your eyelids grew heavier, you couldn’t help but feel… content. Despite everything that happened, the chaos, the stress—it was nice. It was nice… with Wednesday.

Wednesday woke up with a pounding headache, one that reminded her of the few times she'd experienced her visions—but this one was worse. Her skull felt like it was splitting in two. She blinked slowly, squinting against the unfamiliar light filtering through the room. Her mind began to sort through fragments of memories. The camp… those insufferable therapy sessions… the lake… She sat up abruptly, clutching her head as the pain intensified.

Her eyes flicked around the room, landing on your slumped figure, asleep at the desk. You were hunched over, your head resting on your arms, your breathing slow and steady. For some reason, her mind didn’t leap to the worst-case scenarios like it usually did. Normally, she would have assumed she’d been kidnapped or poisoned or worse, but this time, her immediate reaction was different. You were there. And for some strange, infuriating reason, that put her mind somewhat at ease. She quickly squashed that feeling, she needed answers.

“Y/N.” You jolted upright, startled and confused, your eyes wide as you tried to get your bearings. “Wednesday?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes, still half-asleep. “Where am I?” she asked, her voice sharper now. “And why do I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train?” You stood, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “You’re at my house,” you said, a bit sheepish. “Uh, sorry about that. After everything that happened last night, I figured it was easier to bring you here instead of taking you all the way back to Nevermore.” Wednesday’s gaze narrowed. “And what, exactly, happened last night?” You grimaced. “It was Rick. He spiked the coffee, and… well, everyone got pretty messed up. You were high.”

A flicker of memory hit her like a punch to the gut. The coffee. Rick. Her emotions spilling out. She had been...drunk. And not just any kind of drunk—emotionally vulnerable drunk. A wave of nausea hit her. "I was what?"

"Yeah, you were... not yourself. And I had to, you know, keep you from stabbing people or throwing knives. At me, mostly." You gave her a nervous chuckle, trying to ease the tension. "So I took you home before you killed anyone."

Wednesday’s face darkened, her expression unreadable. She could vaguely remember the feel of the knife in her hand, the sheer frustration bubbling inside her, and then...she let her guard down. She had felt things—for you. Her hands tightened into fists.

"This was your fault," she said, her voice low, dangerous. “You. You're the reason this happened.”

You blinked in surprise, then frowned. “What? How is this my fault?”

“You.” Her eyes burned with anger, her lips curling into a scowl. “Yesterday, I let you in. And look where that got me—drunk, vulnerable, and completely out of control.”

Her words stung. You had never seen her so agitated, so vulnerable, and yet so defensive at the same time. Your heart sank a little, but you stepped closer to her. “Wednesday, it’s okay. I was there, wasn’t I? I’ll always be there if you need me.”

“That's not the point!” Wednesday snapped. “The point is that I’m never like this. I never allow myself to be anything other than in control. But you... you make me lose that control. You distract me. You’re the reason I wasn’t on guard, the reason I didn’t see it coming.”

For a moment, you were speechless. It wasn’t often that you saw Wednesday like this—raw, emotional, admitting that she wasn’t as impenetrable as she wanted to be. But instead of backing down, you felt your own frustration rising.

“So, what? You’re mad because I’m not a threat to you? Because I make you feel something?”

Her eyes flashed. “Yes!”

You stared at her, genuinely taken aback by her admission. “You’re blaming me for something you’re not used to dealing with that I had no control of.”

Wednesday’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "You had control, you entered my life. I never asked you to get close to me," she hissed.

You stared at her for a long moment, the weight of her words sinking in. You shook your head slowly. “You know what? Fine. Be mad. Blame me for all of it. Blame me because you’re scared to admit that you actually care about someone. Go ahead.”

Wednesday’s eyes flashed a bit of emotions, but you didn’t stop.

“Because I can’t do this,” you said, your voice laced with frustration. “I can't keep taking the fault just because you’re too stubborn to admit that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to be alone all the time.”

“I am not alone,” Wednesday said coldly. “I choose this.”

You looked at her, and for a second, something shifted in your expression. Hurt, maybe. Or disappointment. “Fine. Then go. Be strong and alone, just like you always do.”

The words stung more than she cared to admit. She felt her anger surge again, but this time, there was something else beneath it—an ache she couldn’t name. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her mind racing.

Back in your room, you groaned, burying your face in your hands. The frustration, the anger—it was all swirling inside you like a storm. You hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but damn it, Wednesday knew how to push every button.

Still, you couldn’t just leave things like this. Not after everything that had happened.

With a resigned sigh, you stood up, running a hand through your hair as you headed out to find her.

Wednesday stood outside, her arms crossed tightly against her chest as the morning air bit at her skin. She stood rigid, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. What part of Jericho is she even in?

She was stuck in this place—your place. A house that felt almost too normal for her liking, too...warm. It was unsettling. And yet, it wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the setting that rattled her. It was you.

She wasn’t going back inside.

Her pride wouldn’t allow it. She could navigate the situation on her own—she didn’t need help. Wednesday Addams never needed help.

You were the one person she could blame for her current predicament. Yet, somehow, you were also the only person she found herself thinking about.

Her head was still pounding, the remnants of the drug-fueled haze clinging to her like a persistent shadow. It was disorienting and left her feeling unusually out of control.

And that—more than anything—infuriated her.

She wasn’t used to this. Losing control, feeling vulnerable, feeling anything.

It was your fault. You had wormed your way into her life, into her mind, and now, into her emotions. And for what? You were unpredictable, infuriatingly cheerful, and entirely too comfortable in her presence. No one had ever made her feel this conflicted before. And she hated it.

No, she hated you. Right?

What had she said last night? What had you seen? She remembered the rush of emotions flooding her mind, the dizzying sensation of being drunk—something she never allowed herself to be.

And somehow, you had been there, in the middle of it all. And you are still here now...

“Is it really that bad to let someone in, Wednesday?” She stiffened at the sound of your voice, not bothering to turn to face you.

“Yes,” she replied coldly, the answer immediate and sharp. “It would make me weak. Vulnerable.”

You sighed softly, taking a few slow steps toward her, careful not to intrude on her space but just close enough that she couldn’t ignore your presence.

“Vulnerability,” you mused, glancing down at your feet before looking back at her with a sad smile. “I wish I felt vulnerable sometimes. The vulnerability of a mother’s love."

Wednesday’s sharp gaze turned to you, a question forming in her eyes but remaining unspoken.

“My mother died giving birth to me,” you continued, "Talk about being born only to murder your mother,” you chuckled, though it wasn’t filled with your usual warmth. It was tinged with something deeper—pain.

That hit harder than she anticipated. Wednesday wasn’t one for empathy, but something about the way you said it, the way you tried to laugh off the tragedy, made something in her chest tighten. She wasn’t sure why, but the pain in your voice resonated with her.

“I watched as the others played with their mothers,” you continued, your eyes distant now, as if you were seeing something far away. “Dad tried, he really did. But he had work. The cars in his garage weren’t going to fix themselves.”

Wednesday stayed silent, her eyes locked on your profile. She could see the sadness in your eyes now, the weight of it pressing down on you like a dark cloud. You were trying to make a joke of it, trying to downplay the loss, but she could tell how much it still hurt you.

“Why am I telling you all this?” you asked, your voice softer now, more vulnerable than she had ever heard it. “Because, Wednesday... sometimes, the thing we think will make us weak or vulnerable... is actually the thing that’s missing. The thing that could make us whole.”

She remained silent, the words hanging in the air between you both. For the first time in a long time, Wednesday didn’t have a sharp retort, didn’t have some sarcastic comment to throw back at you. She just...stood there. Listening.

What the hell am I even doing?

Her mind raced, and she felt an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach. You clearly had nothing to hide, no ulterior motives that she could detect. Maybe...maybe she could trust you. But trust was dangerous. She had built her life around never needing to trust anyone. Why should you be any different?

Still, something about your words lingered in her mind, gnawing at her resolve. Vulnerability wasn’t a weakness, you had said. It was the missing piece.

For a moment, she considered the possibility. Maybe, just maybe, letting you in didn’t mean losing control. Maybe it was something else entirely.

She clenched her jaw, finally turning to face you. “Where does this leave us?”

You met her gaze, your expression unreadable for a moment. Then, you gave a soft, almost tired smile.

“What even is this?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. It was a rare admission of uncertainty from her, and it made her feel exposed in a way she hated.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, shrugging slightly. “But does it really need to have a name? This...whatever this is...it can just be ‘this’ till we enjoy each other’s company.” You smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I clearly enjoy yours. I don’t know about you.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, but there was no real malice in the gesture. “You aren’t entirely intolerable,” she muttered under her breath, her voice softer than usual.

You laughed at that, a genuine laugh that seemed to lift some of the tension between you. “High praise coming from you,” you teased.

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. The fact that she hadn’t immediately insulted you or walked away was enough of a response.

Then, after a moment, you stretched and yawned, clearly still recovering from the night’s chaos. “Anyway,” you said, “I clearly need coffee. Preferably not spiked" You took a few steps forward, then paused, looking back over your shoulder at her. “You coming?”

She sighed, her expression impassive as she finally moved to follow you.

Whatever this was, it went deeper than that. The things she did for you, the things you made her feel...they weren’t just born from friendship. But no, this wasn’t something romantic either, at least not yet. She wasn’t sure what it was.

And maybe, just for now, that was okay.

This didn’t need a name.

[necrotic-nephilim]

in my mind brudick marriage happens almost byaccident: after bruce “dies” dick is left alone and without access to damian or the manor or funds as he was never adopted and is only a former ward, so in dicks grieving mind the clearest way forward is to forge a secret but technically legal marriage, bruce doesn’t find out for years after he comes back, damian knew why he was in custody with richard and assumed it was common knowledge that no one ever brought up, alfred just lets this all play out even knowing that bruce did have a clause in his will to protect dick incase of death (plans upon plans), bruce was upset in all the ways bruce would deny his feelings

this is SUCH a good thought oh my god-

first of all, i am kissing you on the mouth for adding morally fucked up Alfred who just *lets* this play out. he could easily intervene and he *should*, but the idea that he doesn't because for some reason he thinks this is for the best is *such* good food. i love the thought that Alfred knows about unresolved BruDick feelings and feels in Bruce's death, Bruce at least deserves the one thing he never allowed himself to have in life: Dick's hand in marriage. and Dick is so deep in denial and just trying to legally keep hold of Damian and Wayne Enterprises. it's such a stupid last ditch effort and he doesn't even expect it to *work* but it does. Dick is able to keep it under wraps with only a few lawyers and WE higher ups knowing, the public assumes Bruce naturally left everything to Dick bc why wouldn't he? Dick is his eldest ward, after all. Damian knows bc he sees all the papers concerning Dick having his legal guardianship and he just shrugs it off because really, his father's relationship with Dick is none of his business.

and of course, when Bruce comes up there are so many *other* things to handle that Dick just doesn't think to mention it. he's not willingly withholding the information and Bruce assumes Dick *knew* about the contingencies Bruce set up for his death so he doesn't question Dick having all this control. it's not until years later when one of his WE lawyers passingly mentions "oh you might need your husband to sign off on this too" and Bruce is like. i'm sorry my *what*. because he knows the Batfam got up to some chaotic things trying to keep his death a secret, but no one mentioned a *husband*. so Bruce checks the paperwork and is going through every single stage of grief because *did no one think to tell him he's legally married to Dick.* Bruce demands answers and Dick has to awkwardly explain the whole thing to a baffled Bruce who just asks why Dick didn't *check Bruce's files* for this. (maybe Dick didn't think to, maybe Alfred deleted them, who's to say) Bruce wants to be mad at Dick, mostly for not telling Bruce. but all his unspoken feelings make it *very* difficult to figure out what to do. especially when Dick offers to quietly get a divorce since enow the marriage isn't needed and Bruce's *gut* reaction is to blurt out no, no no let's not do that. and he can't explain why he's so against it without admitting how badly he wants to be married to Dick even amidst the worst of his feelings.

it takes them months to actually *talk* about it, and tbh it's probably Damian's assumptions about their relationship that make them face it. bc to Damian the mutual feelings are obvious and the marriage is known so yes of course, Bruce and Dick are in love and together what's so difficult to understand about this, it's no one's business but their own. (i especially love the idea of Damian chastises other characters like Tim for trying to ask questions because doesn't Tim know romance for Bruce is a very private affair and it's *wildly* disrespectful of Tim to think he has the right to know these things.) and so when Damian makes a passing comment about their relationship and Bruce and Dick share a mortified look, they realize they have to talk about it. and instead of ending on clearing the air, they accidentally confess feelings for one another. it's stilted and painful, but they manage to agree maybe they can keep the marriage going. and maybe they don't have to correct Damian.

(also, this is a side thought but: i think a lot about how Tommy Elliot was made to pretend to be Bruce while Bruce was dead and all that fun, and i think it's fun if Tommy knows about the marriage bc he helped Dick sign off on it. and Tommy tries to force Dick into a relationship with him to "maintain the facade" and Dick rejects the advances, maybe Tommy even forces himself on Dick once or twice. it doesn't go too far and they get Tommy back under control, but it's clear Tommy's annoyed when Bruce comes back and he doesn't get to "have his fun" anymore. also fun if Bruce finds out about this and is *furious* bc not only did he not know he's married to Dick, but it was *Tommy* who got to have Dick as a husband before Bruce did and now he's jealous and pissed about the whole thing. just a fun little aside thought bc i wish the fandom had more fun with Tommy's era of pretending to be Bruce.)

[2129888]

i don't remember how i stumbled across this interview but i've never seen anyone mention it so i'm dropping it here <3 it's a little dated but still like super valuable and a decently in depth look at higuchi-sensei's previous works and how she works and thinks as a mangaka... personally i think it's the most i've ever learned from an interview of hers. super interesting stuff :0)

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

Top 5 golden girls Moments?

How could you ask me this. Not even my top 5 episodes, my top 5 moments. This is an impossible choice. Do you enjoy inflicting pain on me? I may die from this (said in Blanche's half-asleep accent).

I hope you know that producing this list has been equivalent to tearing my beating heart out of my chest.

The Great Herring War scene from S1E25 The Way We Met

Rose's reveal that she had 56 boyfriends before settling down with Charlie from S7E13 Old Boyfriends

Dorothy telling off Blanche's abusive boyfriend (and Blanche kicking him out of the house) from S6E13 The Bloom Is Off The Rose

The little moment between Dorothy and Rose on the lanai from S5E19 72 Hours

The kiss on Rose's nose + hug from S3E3 Bringing Up Baby

There. I hope you're happy. Personally I will never recover from this.

[Ask me my Top 5 anything]

[nomairuins]

we had fun tho the whole family hung out and we did some sporclee and chronophoto and then globle me n lamp nd father did globle bc mein mamma went to sleep. yay :]

[buddyapologist]

sry for all the txt posts but i just remembered that line from stranger things s2 where hopper is leaving a note for eleven that says "i'm not mad, i'm just sorry" and im just. fucking essay in the tags

[tonycries]

Can I Fill You Up, Baby?

Synopsis. There’s no way he had a breéding kink, right? That was before he was balls-deep in you, cúmming in you for the third time in a row now.

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, lots of cúm, overstim, multiple rounds, mating press, breeding, pet names (my girl), swearing.

Word count. 1.5k

A/N. DON’T LOOK AT MEEEE.

Boys who didn’t know they have a breeding kink.

Pfft, seriously? Those were straight out of hentai, he’d roll his eyes as his friends tittered about it. “Next thing you’ll tell me is that tentacle monsters are totally legit, too.”

Because he didn’t have a breeding kink, right?

Well, at least he didn’t think so…but right now, with you sprawled underneath him, eyes half-lidded, and dripping cunt sucking his cock in so deliciously - he thinks the idea might not be too far-fetched after all.

Ripping off what remained of your top, lips searing against your skin as he bit down hard - marking you. You were so fucking aroused, pretty pussy pooling and forming debauched little strings of slick that connect you to his heavy balls. Throaty, desperate little grunts leaving him each time they slap against your skin, in time with the tight, little circles he drew on your throbbing clit. 

A quick, maddening tempo he was losing his mind to.

Right now, he was absolutely feral where he was usually suave in sex. For some reason, that image of you babysitting your friend’s kid earlier today burns into his mind, jolting some raw, carnal part of him awake as he keeps ramming his cock into your snug cunt. Over and over. Purposefully and sinfully. 

Ah, how lovely you would look so round and glowing with his kid. You’d look so pretty carrying his seed. The swell of your belly just because of him - all him. 

“Baby…” he starts, voice hoarse with need. At your answering mewl, writhing beneath him, he continues, words that come straight from his throbbing erection. “Can I fill you up? Lemme fill you up. Please, my girl.”

“Ah! Hah- yes. Yes yes yes, please. Cum in me baby, fill me up.” Raw, pleading whines leave your bruised lips. Drool already dripping down the corner of your mouth at how deliciously filthy he was fucking you. 

Body trembling, a shiver runs down your spine as you watch his pupils dilate, cock twitching so animalistically inside you at your words. Thrusts increasing impossibly, his thumb was now frenzied on your clit, desperately chasing both your highs.

Now, you’ve heard of orgasms that sneak up on you. Silent, powerful waves that leave you speechless. And before you know it, you’re creaming around his thick cock. Stars behind your eyes and a breathless whisper of his name leaving your swollen lips. 

Seeing you so debauched underneath him sends him over the edge as well, his own release exploding into your awaiting pussy. Filling you up. Hips never slowing down, pumping hot ropes of cum into you animalistically. Your walls flutter around him, as if desperately trying to suck his big cock back in with each thrust. 

Yet, your moans turn into sensitive gasps at the way your loving boyfriend still doesn’t show any signs of stopping - even as your jolts of pleasure turn into nothing but mere tingles. Thighs clenching around his toned waist, a question.

“Shhh, don’t worry, pretty girl. One more, you gotta do is take it.” 

And he’s pushing in again, swollen tip hot and still hard and hot against your sloppy entrance. Both of you hissing at the overstimulation. Oh. Oh, shit.

“Hngh- you’re-” God. Looking up into those darkened eyes, something carnal glinting dangerously in them - only one thought rings in your head, going straight down to your dripping cunt - you’d be lucky to make out of this in one piece. 

You can do nothing but lay there and take it as large hands spread your legs even more shamefully. His cum warm and dribbling out of you, fully exposed to his hungry gaze. Body jerking as he manhandles your legs onto his sculpted shoulders. Folding you in half, pressing down down down-

A mating press. A fucking mating press. 

Scratch that, you’d be lucky to make it out of this alive.

He doesn’t waste time. 

Splitting you open on his thick cock immediately, pushing back into your tight walls. Head thrown back and eyes rolling to the back of his head so pornographically at the way your cunt flutters around him - wetter and sloppier than before with his cum, struggling to take him again. Warm - so warm with his seed. 

God, he has to fight down some feral, animalistic part of him that wants to just plunge into you till his twitching balls smack your ass. Not even waiting for you to adjust. 

But no. No, he must be careful with the mother of his children - treat you like fine porcelain. Just as soon as he breaks you like one right now.

Fuck.

One, harsh thrust. His achingly hard cock splitting you open, pushing against the heady combination of resistance and your walls milking him to insanity. Sweaty forehead meeting yours, he can’t decide between the sinful sight of your cunt clenching around his length and the way your swollen, kiss-bitten lips fall into such a pretty oh!

“Oh- hah! Baby, please. Don’t hold back.”

Not that he was going to anyway. “Then take it like a good girl while I breed you, my lil’ slut.” his voice low and husky, making your cunt clamp down in anticipation. 

And before you know it, his tight balls are flush against your ass, thick head kissing your cervix so painfully good. Hips rearing back - back back back, pulsing veins massaging your walls as he pulls out till his furiously flushed tip is just teasing your entrance. Only to slam back into you with one rough thrust, with little regard for your poor, abused cunt.

The bed creaks in protest as he starts up a merciless pace, not taking the time to ease it in for either of you. Throbbing cock sliding in and out of your dripping cunt in rough, purposeful strokes that have you gripping the headboard for stability. 

Your cunt stings in both overstimulation and the way his tight balls smack against you at his unforgiving pace, strings of slick and cum connecting you to each other. “Hah- oh. So good, pussy sucking me dry so good Hngh-” he gasps out over the lewd slapping of skin on skin, mouth moving before his mind does. 

Ass burning at the friction of his pelvis. Cum leaking out of you to pool beneath you. It was so fucking debauched. He was absolutely too far gone. Completely set on filling you till you explode. 

“Oh, fuck. Gonna cum. Gonna fill you up again, my pretty girl- hngh-”

You whine at the pain and pleasure, far too cock-drunk to form any coherent sentences, body arching up for more more more-

You both cum with a raw, fucked-out whimper. Your walls stretch painfully as it tries to accommodate both his fat cock and another spurt of his cum. Tears stinging your eyes at the sensitivity, all you know is a burst of pleasure and the realization of how absolutely full you are of his seed.

It leaks out of you, seeping into your skin and you can almost feel it sloshing inside of your snug cunt. Mind hazy and vision blurring at this point. Yet, he still doesn’t stop.

You’re probably sobbing at this point - you don’t even know. Completely drunk on you and the idea of breeding you and you-

“One more, my girl. One more. Gotta make sure it takes.”

Raw, absolutely feral empty promises ring in your ears as he keeps moving inside you. Sensitively twitching cock dragging so maddeningly against your walls. Letting out raspy whimpers with each thrust, now nothing more than shallow, mindless movements fueled by pure animalistic need. 

Fuck, ah, you were gonna fucking pass out.

“Hah- Baby, I can’t- oh-” 

“You will.”

You squeal as your thighs clench around him, clit pulsing in pain and pleasure as he reaches down to start his rough abuse on it again. A final thrust. Only one press on your clit. Hard. 

Your orgasm - if you can even call it that, nothing more than a distinct spike of pleasure - hits you with a jolt. Moaning and bowing into his weeping cock as you ride your highs out together. His poor, abused cock coating your walls white once more in thin, hot spurts. It overflows inside of you, cunt dripping and too full to take any more. 

Maybe you black out, you don’t even know. Only brought back by the tear that hits your cheek with a wet splash!  - blinking away the haze in your eyes to look up at your overstimulated boyfriend. His throbbing cock now shooting blanks inside of you.

Breaths ragged, blood roaring in your ears, you feel a sudden emptiness as he pulls out. A disappointed whine leaving you despite your state. Cum gushing out of you, forming a pool on the already-soaked bedsheets. Warm and so fucking sinful.

Pulling back to admire the view, his eyes widen, jaw dropping slightly at the heavenly sight. Greedy eyes locked on you and your pussy and you - blood rushing straight to his twitching cock. Reproachfully, you look up to meet his eyes, pupils blown and half-lidded, an insane glint in them that jolts you to your very core - and your abused cunt. 

One thing was sure.

There’s no turning back. 

- GOJO, CHOSO, Nanami, OIKAWA, Suna, KUROO, ATSUMU, EREN

A/N. Goals amirite? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Jealousy - Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Sinner!Reader SMUT

Summary: Lucifer's jealousy emerges when your Ex from when you were alive enters the hotel in search of you. Lucifer makes sure to claim you as his.

Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, dom!Lucifer, cream pie, Lucifer being possessive, marking, unprotected sex, degradation (it happens like once), SMUT, MDNI

A typical day in Hell was far from calm, so whenever a peaceful moment occurred, even a small one, you made sure to savor it, appreciating it for what it was. For example, you intended to let the wonderful moment you were currently in last for as long as you possibly could. You had been watching a movie in your room in the hotel, but by now your attention had turned away from the movie in question and onto Lucifer. The king of Hell had snuggled up closer to you than he already had been, his head resting on your shoulder as he watched the show.

The simple gesture made you melt, and you couldn't resist gently turning his face to look at you. Lucifer looked at you curiously, waiting for your next move. You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, enjoying the smile it brought to his face.

"Hmm, that was nice, but I think you missed, love." He leaned in, closing the gap between you two, kissing you lovingly. You moved to deepen the kiss and— a knock came at the door. You parted from the kiss and looked towards your room door as Lucifer let out a disappointed sigh. "I'll make sure to give you as many kisses as you want later, alright?" You whispered to him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up and answering the door.

"(Y/N)!" Charlie exclaimed in excitement. "The hotel has a new guest! They said that they know you. You two must've been friends before! Come on, let's go see them!" Without warning, Charlie eagerly grabbed you by the hand, pulling you through the hallways of the hotel and towards the main lobby.

In the lobby, you saw them. The fucker you had hoped would never die purely so you would never have to see them again. Yet, here they were in all of their trashy, shit glory. "Hi." You said with a fake smile, trying to remain civil and hold back the resentment that had since been dormant.

"(Y/N)! Baby!" Your ex grinned, approaching you with wide, open arms. "I'm so glad I found you after all these years. It took some asking around, but we're together again!" They wrapped their arms around you, squeezing you tight enough that it felt like you might suffocate.

"Woah, haha! Hands off, please!" Lucifer appeared next to you, poking at your ex with his cane, annoyance seeping into his forced, polite tone. They finally released you, glaring at Lucifer as he stepped between the two of you.

"And just who the hell are you?" Your ex questioned, watching as Lucifer wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. "I feel like I should be asking you that question." Your boyfriend replied snidely, any attempt to be polite despite the situation now far gone.

"Alrighty!" Charlie said with a nervous laugh, wishing that she had gathered more information about her hotel's newest guest and their relationship with you before allowing them to see you. "Let's all just relax, and maybe (Y/N) can introduce the two of you to eachother."

You let out a sigh. You loved how sweet Charlie was taking in any sinner, you really did, but sometimes it did more harm than good, usually to no fault of her own. You motioned to your ex, "Lucifer, this is my ex." Then you motioned to your boyfriend, "This is Lucifer. King of Hell...And my boyfriend." The last part felt almost weird to say, the surrealness of dating the Hell's king and the man sometimes known as the devil himself finally setting in.

Your ex only laughed in response, earning an angry, growling-like noise from Lucifer. You grabbed his hand, squeezing it in an attempt to calm him down which only partially worked.

"There's no way this little guy is Hell's king! He's so fucking short. I really thought you had better standards in who you date, babe."

"Fuck you." You hissed, anger bubbling up inside of you as you felt yourself slipping into your more demonic form. "He's certainly better than you ever were." By now the other inhabitants of the hotel had gathered around, some more entertained than anything, while others, particularly Vaggie, were preparing for the brawl that was surely about to happen.

"Woah! Look at the time." Charlie intervened. "It's getting pretty late, why don't we all start heading to bed?" You responded only by turning around and heading towards your room, in desperate need of calming yourself down. Lucifer followed behind you, the walk to your room quiet with no words spoken.

You opened your door, nearly throwing it open in your still-present anger, before flopping down onto the bed with a loud, frustrated groan. You looked to the side, taking notice of the way Lucifer refused to look at you, his arms crossed.

"Honey?" No answer. "Love?" No answer, yet again. "Luci?" That did the trick. He always melted whenever you called him that.

"Your ex is fucking annoying."

You let out a small chuckle at his bluntness, a smile making its way onto your face. "They are, Luci. That's why they're my ex." You sat up, pulling him down onto the bed with you, kissing him, causing both of you to relax, some built-up tension leaving.

"You're all mine, aren't you?" He questioned, already knowing your answer. "Mine to love. Mine to claim." His mouth moved to your neck, sharp teeth grazing the skin, and you let out a soft moan as he began to nibble and kiss at the skin, his teeth leaving a mark you were sure he'd take pride in.

Your head fell to the side, giving him more access to your neck as you took his hat off, throwing it to the side, your fingers running through his hair as he continued to mark you.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. You'll only ever want me." He whispered, lips returning to yours in a fervent kiss. Your lips remained locked together, only occasionally parting for a few seconds so you could help rid each other of the clothes that separated you from what you both craved.

He moved between your legs, the tip of his hardened cock teasing at your wet entrance. Usually, you two would've done more before the main act, but you two were more than ready to indulge in the other right now.

"Don't be a tease, Lucifer." You purred, spreading your legs wider. "Can't you feel how wet I am? How ready I am for you to fuck me senseless?"

He smirked before finally slipping in, biting his lip to prevent an almost embarrassingly loud moan that threatened to surface at the way you felt wrapped around him. He has been in heaven before, and he could say with confidence that being deep inside of you felt better than anything his former home could've offered him.

He began to thrust, his pace starting slow, still teasing you. He wanted you to beg, and you already knew it.

"Faster, harder, please, Lucifer—" You pleaded, giving in to what he wanted from you. "I know you want to pound me into this bed, Lucifer—Ah! Fuck!—" His pace sped up, and the sound of hips meeting yours in rapid succession filled the room. "Fuckfuckfuck–yes!"

"You always feel so fucking good." He growled, wings slipping out as he lost himself in the ecstasy that was your pussy. You ran your fingers through the red and white feathers, and he let out a pleasured whine at the feeling. His wings had always been sensitive.

"Fuck me—Let them all know I'm yours!" You cried out, losing yourself in the feeling of his cock fucking you with quick, deep strokes. You gripped the sheets in your hands, back arching as he angled himself just right, hitting your sweet spot head on.

"Mine. Mine to ruin, mine to fuck, and mine to fill up. All mine." His hands found yours, pinning them down against the bed as he began to fuck you even harder, his climax nearing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer.

"I'm gonna cum–You're going to make me cum so hard–"

"Then fucking do it." He demanded with a growl. "Cum around my cock like the little slut you are for me." You came around him, cunt spasming as your orgasm coursed through you. Lucifer's wings fluttered as he followed you soon after, filling you up with his hot cum.

You pulled him down into a sweet kiss once your climax subsided, cupping his face in your hands. God, you loved him more than anything. The kiss ended after a good moment, leaving you both to bask in your shared, post-coital bliss.

"You lost a few feathers," You observed with a giggle, holding one up. He chuckled warmly, lying beside you. You rested your head on his chest, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. You'd have to deal with your ex in the morning, but for now, you were both satisfied with knowing that you were entirely Lucifer's, and that's how you'd always want it to be.

[freyito]

ᴅᴇʟʟɪɴɢʀꜝ ⨟ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ in which: you wake up next to them.

✧ a/n: for those who have read my works since i first started writing, i made a little masterpost on the mk(1) boys nightly rotuines... i figured id do one for hsr men since my mk hyperfixation died and is buried 6ft under... and i might do one for the hsr men nighttime routines but for now... wakey wakey

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 3.9k

⎯ Aventurine

Ever the gambler, AVENTURINE even takes a gamble on waking up in the morning. He can set as many alarms as he wants, but he always sleeps in. He finds any excuse to cuddle up next to you and enjoy your warmth for a minute, or even an hour more. He doesn’t mind coming into work late, he always finds a way to slip out of write-ups.

You’ve lost count of how many alarms went off by now, as annoying as it was. Still, despite how important Aventurine was, he’s cuddled up against your back, hands gripping your clothes tightly as if you’d dare to wiggle out of his arms. You could remind him, again and again, that he needs to go, that he has a meeting that day, or a certain deadline, and he’ll just groan and say that his superiors can handle him being gone for another hour or so.

When you do manage to convince him to get up and start the day, he does everything with such reluctance. Forget his rank, forget all of it, he’d much rather spend several more hours in bed with you, even when the sun dips low. He’s slow to put on his uniform, asking you the most mundane of questions, with answers he already knows. He skips out on breakfast at hope, douses himself in that expensive cologne that makes you have to distance yourself until he leaves, and wires you enough money to buy the entire menu from the cafe you mentioned you liked in passing.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

The early bird gets the worm, as they say, and VERITAS is no exception to the saying. Considering work has him busy, he’s thoughtful enough to leave you to sleep, if you are not accustomed to a sleep schedule like his. He tends to wake up early, to give himself enough time to prepare himself for the day. He likes to be thorough, check over his lesson plan for the day, make sure he made no mistakes the day before (although he rarely needs to revise it).

While on the outside, he seems cold and uncaring, on the inside he’s flustering himself with how much he worries about you. He knows he will see you later in the day, when you’ll bring him his lunch, or after his lectures, but some part of leaving just unsettles him. Not that he believes you’d be in danger if you were gone, but more so how you take care of yourself. Of course he knows you’re capable, but some part in him wants to make sure.

So, before he leaves, right when you wake up, he does his best to cook a filling breakfast. Most of the times, Ratio has to put it in some tupperware and save it for later at work, but there are very rare occasions that he gets to enjoy the meal with you. He always makes more– “it was an accident, nothing more,” he’ll say, shaking his head, stoic as ever. But you know it wasn’t– and shovel it onto your plate, it’s his own love language. 

⎯ Boothill

BOOTHILL is an early riser. It’s a habit that was ingrained in him since he was knee high. Granted, he doesn’t need much sleep, and he isn’t around as often as you’d like. He doesn’t stay in one place for long, and he really only swings by your apartment once or twice every month. But that doesn’t mean he’ll sleepover, if only for a night.

Despite the fact that he wakes up even hours before you, he decides to let you sleep. Sometimes he’ll stay in bed as long as you are, soaking in the peaceful sight, one that he’s never afforded himself until you came along. He reaches out ever so tentatively, as if he’ll feel your warm skin underneath his finger tips, but all it earns him is a shudder and your face scrunching. And when you wake up, he’s in such a hurry to pretend he wasn’t watching you sleep, mumbling apologies like he’s disturbed you.

When he’s not watching over you, Boothill enjoys cooking. He might’ve lost his taste and stomach a while ago, but he’s still an excellent chef. For all he can’t eat, he loves cooking. And he believes one of the best ways of waking up is to have a hearty breakfast. While you catch up on your sleep (most likely because he showed up at your apartment late into the night scuffed and bloody(?), acting like nothing happened), he’s making the most heavenly smelling pancakes ever, humming some old country tune to himself. If you dare get up to see what he’s cooking, he shoos you back to bed, tutting and claiming that you’re ruining the surprise, as if he doesn’t do this every time.

⎯ Gallagher

For such a busy man, GALLAGHER tends to sleep a lot. Or perhaps, too little. His schedule is always fluctuating, which means he’s up early and home late. It’s unfair, you think. Most of the time he’ll come home all quiet, settle on a snack, and then sneak into bed, and pull you up close. Half the time he doesn’t even care about his clothes, opting to take off his vest and shirt and throw them on the floor. He’ll worry about the laundry later.

That being said, it’s often a gamble if you’ll see him in the morning or not. He wakes up quite early, and as much as he’d love to spend time with you, cuddle up, and go straight back to sleep, he has to at least look presentable for the next time he’s called in. Most of the time, he accidentally wakes you up when he gets up to shower, but you settle back in quite comfortably. 

Most of the time, he’ll have to leave right after his shower. So he’ll do his best to be quiet as a mouse, sneak in, and press a kiss to your forehead, before starting his day. But on the days he can sleep in, or when he doesn’t have work… he climbs right back into bed. The scent of his body wash rolls over you, in the near-overpowering sandalwood haven it is. He’ll wrap his arm around your waist, pull you impossible closer, and nuzzle into your neck. If you are awake by that time, he urges you to go back to sleep. ‘5 more minutes’, he’ll grumble, and in possibly record speed, he’s out like light. His arm loosens ever so slightly, as he snores away until his thirteenth alarm goes off.

⎯ Sunday

As a stickler for schedules, it’s no surprise that SUNDAY has a strict morning routine. He wakes up at 7 AM system time, 6 AM being too early, and 8 AM being too late. Of course, he encourages you to do the same. You get used to it with time.

He likes to start with a shower, of course. Something intimate with you, yet so normal. He does not mind spending an hour in the shower, but with his station, he cannot. So unfortunately, he has to cut such time short. But he makes sure to soak in every single minute left in the morning with you. A nice breakfast and some tea, as he chats away about his ‘chores’ for the day, what matters he is attending to, whether or not it is a day in the office or out and about. 

Regardless of how busy his day is, Sunday makes sure you know that you are in every waking thought of his. A kiss and a hug at the door, and he’s on his way. You can see some flicker of sorrow as he leaves, as if it is something to grieve over, not being by your side for a minute longer. But alas, to achieve and infinite amount of sundays, he cannot afford to make room in his schedule for more down time. 

⎯ Argenti

ARGENTI never ceases to look as heavenly as ever, even in his sleep. However, he has quite a strict schedule he sticks to, something that manifested when his master started training him. He has quite the strict schedule: wake up early, shower, enjoy his breakfast, and start training, unless he has somewhere to be. 

However, he does allow him so rest days, where he sleeps just a little longer, and allows himself more spare time. Very rarely do you catch him asleep when you wake up, and most mornings when he does ‘sleep in’, you often wake up to him gazing down at you. His head propped up by his hand, hair cascading down his shoulders. He could even miss out on several hours of sleep or perhaps even the entire night, and still look angelic. He greets you with a soft smile and a huff, his fingers brushing against your cheeks, as he waits for you to properly wake up.

And once you’re ready to get up, he’s ready to start the day. Anything you do, he's practically following you around like a lost puppy. When you make breakfast, you're either watching over his shoulder, or he is. He never skips out on a chance to dance in the kitchen, making something that was normally a spectacle regulated, and yet, it still feels as intimate as it does the very first time he pulled you into his arms.

⎯Sampo Koski

SAMPO KOSKI needs his beauty sleep. Granted, his sleeping schedule varies based on his business. Sometimes he needs to rob someone blind in the early hours of the morning, or his clients want to meet way past his bedtime. He’ll huff and puff and complain about it, but he always makes time to curl up in your arms like a poor little stray kitten.

When he is finally free of his dreaded work (his path in life that HE chose), he sleeps in quite late. Most of the time, he wants to enjoy the time he has left with you, pout and complain about how hard his job is (again, a career HE CHOSE). He has a lot to say when he (or you) wake up, only because he’s missed talking casually, and most of all, he’s missed you. His jobs and clients have him acting all proper, putting on some other character than he truly is for his clients. While there are some acts he likes… sometimes he just wants to break character and get his clients to buy whatever piece of junk he’s stolen.

Despite all his yapping, he truly enjoys the time he gets with you, even if most of it is him keeping you in bed. He pulls you up close to his chest if you even dare to move, burying his face in the crook of your neck and muttering pathetic little ‘don’t leave’s and the like. When you look down at him he’s just so tired, his eyebags are somehow seven times darker and he’s lost all that luster in his eyes. But you know he’s putting on an act. When you get up, he’ll be crawling to your side in no time.

⎯ Jing Yuan

Ah, the Dozing General. Who better to wake up with? While JING YUAN has to be up early, he doesn’t skip out on any time that could be spent with you. When his first alarm goes off, he’s quick to snooze it, rolling over and throwing his arm over your waist, pulling you closer. He’s used to waking up this early, of course, but he doesn’t like to miss out on those precious 30 minutes where he’s holding you close, uninterrupted. You’re accustomed to this schedule, as well. Wake up; but not really, spend the next moments cuddling, and then start your day.

As the Divine Foresight, he doesn’t get as much leisure time as he’d like, or days off. He could spend all day in bed, really, spoiling himself (as he sees it) to high heavens. But unfortunately, there is work that needs to be done, and he needs to start his day. And (un)fortunately, he quite enjoys dragging you along. A nice walk in the garden before he truly starts the day is a sign of a peaceful day. With you by his side, half-awake or not.

That being said, he does so because he wishes to spend every possible moment he has with you. His station means his workload will be unpredictable, and while he wishes that all days would be mundane, that wish will never come true. So, spending the first thirty minutes to several hours of his morning with you is what he rewards himself with. A nice meal and a good bath sets him in the right mood, being simply a step away at most in the morning. 

⎯ Blade

BLADE doesn’t sleep well in general. Often times he’s woken up at all hours in the night by things he won’t share– “It’s childish.” is what he says, with a huff. Nightmares. It’s nightmares. He doesn’t have much of a reaction to them anymore, aside from grumbling and complaining quietly, which is normal. As much as he tries to go back to sleep, he simply can’t most of the time, opting to do something to keep his mind and hands busy, as sleep deprived as he is.

You tend to be met with his back when you wake up, tense as ever. When he can’t find something to do, he settles on meditation, which does nothing to calm the voices and ‘vengeance’ that addles his mind. It does too little for him, his mind always circling back to what could have been. The minute you shift in bed, he snaps out of it quickly, looking back at you with his unreadable gaze. 

Most of the time, if you ask him to lay down with you, he will, as long as he doesn’t have an assignment he needs to be on. For all his sharp edges, he’s quite… dull when it comes to you. Perhaps it’s the many years he’s faced that’s made him lose his luster, or simply his own undoing. Yet, somehow, when you pull him in close, he relaxes ever so slightly. Perhaps not all the way, but it’d take you a couple more years to break down his walls completely. You could sleep for another three hours and he’d at least get time to close his eyes and let his mind rest; something he desperately needs.

⎯ Luocha

While LUOCHA’s “work” has him up quite early, well into the AMs. Of course, with all the traveling he’s done, his sleep schedule varies, and it’s not like he gets to spend as much time as he’d like with you, but you tag along all the same. He could be awake at 3AM system time and you’d be sound asleep until 10AM, and somehow, he’d still look as handsome as ever. You’re starting to feel a little jealous.

Still, he makes time to greet you in the morning. Aside from being a merchant, he is, of course, a healer, and he wants to make sure you're sleeping right. And, perhaps to catch up, if he has been gone for a few days. After all, not only does physical health matter, but mental, as well. A quick little chat, maybe some tender touches, and a hearty meal that he’s brought from the markets is quite enough mental stimulation, yes?

Sometimes, it seems he disagrees, choosing to crawl in bed alongside you, even if you chose to wake up properly. He’ll play with your hair, whisper sweet nothings to you, or simply just stare and smile. He doesn’t get to be affectionate often, either, and often that need for human touch culminates, which leads to those impromptu cuddling sessions in the morning.

⎯ Jiaoqiu

As a healer, JIAOQIU wants to make sure you (and him) maintain a normal, healthy sleep schedule. Unless he’s on an emergency call, he tends to wake up at a mostly normal time, between 8-10 AM. Of course, he wakes you up with him, wanting to start his day off right with your pretty face.

He wakes you up oh so sweetly for a man with such a scheming smile. His fingers glide over your skin, pushing your hair behind your ear, using such a sweet voice, one so sweet that it makes your teeth ache. And when you're finally properly awake, he’s all too excited to rush off to the kitchen, like a giddy child. 

Of course, what’s a morning without Jiaoqiu without some breakfast? When you return from your shower, the kitchen is alive with his cooking, the sounds of sizzling and smells of spices (what else?) a delightful concoction. What is he cooking? Ji dan bing, a fulfilling breakfast. While you are the only person he cuts down the spice for, the food still has enough kick to make you make a face. Of course, his plate smells so spicy that it makes you recoil, which earns a chuckle from the Foxian.

⎯ Moze

Most of the time, MOZE sneaks into your shared bed by the morning, seeing as most of his work is carried out during the night. By the time he’s settled in bed, it’s around the time you wake up. It’s a peaceful sight, really. You’re so used to him scowling or simply not emoting, that when you wake up to his face, tranquil as ever, it makes your heart flutter.

Of course, that does not last. He is up within the first couple of seconds you stare too long, easily woken by any simple rustling. The feeling of someone’s eyes on him means one thing: danger. And he unfortunately hasn’t shaken that habit. However, he has grown used to the fact that it’s you staring at him in the morning hours, and thankfully you are spared a knife to your throat.

He jolts awake with a disgruntled groan, his eyes darting over your features, taking in as much information as he can in his hazy mind state, as if he hadn’t seen your face a thousand times over. Once he is satisfied with the fact that it’s you, he lays back down with a huff, before pulling you down with him. You may have the day to start, but he would like at least a couple more moments in bed with you, he’s stubborn that way.

⎯ Dan Heng

With his days off, DAN HENG tends to enjoy lounging. If not lounging, then reading, and if not reading, then cleaning. But most of the time, since you came back from the Xianzhou Loufu, he’s been sleeping in an awful lot. You're often the first to wake up, or at least, the first to get out of bed.

Most of the time, you sleep in with him, happy to get a couple extra minutes to a couple hours more of sleep. It’s a nice moment of peace and quiet after the amount of missions you two have been on, while March and the Trailblazer updates you on what’s happening wherever they are. Still, sometimes sleeping in gets kind of boring. So while Dan Heng catches on some much needed sleep (and alone time), you busy yourself with cleaning around the express, helping Pom-Pom with certain tasks, and even doing your best to cook up some breakfast.

When you bring your expert attempt at pancakes back to you and Dan Heng’s room, he perks up. He goes from sulking to practically beaming (or what you can consider beaming, you get a soft smile nonetheless), and digs in eagerly. It seems like enough to energize him for a couple of days, pushing away what had happened on the Loufu to the furthest reaches of his mind.

⎯ Gepard

GEPARD does not get much time in the mornings with you or himself. As captain of the guard, he has to be up early, and on call whenever the need arises. While it is very rare that he is called to dispatch an issue in the middle of the night, he is often reluctant to simply leave you in the morning. Of course, he won’t wake you for his own selfish reasons, he just simply wishes he could get more time to enjoy your presence in the morning.

As quietly as he tries to move, somehow he always wakes you up, or perhaps that's what your sleep cycle has gotten used to. Oftentimes, you wake up when he’s taking his shower, his soft humming rising over the sound of water. You know he only does this when he believes he is alone or heard, and every single time, you can’t help but think of it as cute. But you won’t tell him you heard it.

Most of the time you stay up so you can say goodbye to Gepard and tell him to have a good day, while he stumbles over excuses that he doesn’t need. He’s adorable in all his fluster, before he finally collects himself with a deep breath. He promises he’ll see you at the end of the day, and that he’ll bring some dinner home from one of your favorite restaurants.

⎯ Caelus

What adventure with CAELUS drag you on next? That’s a constant question that haunts your mind every time an adventure is done. The most sleep you get is on the Express, in between missions. In the morning’s, he wakes up with such determination, it’s almost impressive. He could have the worst sleep of his life and he wakes up raring to go.

Of course, he does his best not to wake you if you aren’t up. In fact, he’ll do his best to be as quiet as possible, sneaking out of the room, and even tip-toeing down the cabins. Like any little movement will wake his precious partner up. However, sometimes, when he’s feeling a little clingy, he’ll cuddle back in bed and pull you really close, refusing to let go unless you need to do something.

On the occasion you guys are out on a mission, he is the complete opposite. He could wake up well into the noon and groan and complain about not getting enough sleep, even if he slept like a baby. Of course, he wants to get on with his adventures, but at the same time, the hotel’s bed is soooo comfy, and he doesn’t want to leave. Which, he’ll keep you there too until he’s fully awake, spooning you and hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

⎯ Welt

On his days off, which seems to be most days now, WELT sleeps in only a little. Mornings with him are nothing short of intimate, simply laying there in each others arms, muttering sweet words. Truth be told, he enjoys these quiet moments, even if they push back the work he has to get done around the Express.

Still, no one's complaining, right? The work he has to get done will get done eventually, and he can spare a couple hours for his beloved. He cherishes every stolen second, as the hours tick away, his fingers trailing over your skin, before cupping your face. Framing his entire world in his palm.

However, you can’t stay in bed forever. Unfortunately, you do have to get up, and start your day. Welt won’t leave your side, though. Not if he can help it, at least. You two share a shower together, some more words, of course, and even cook together afterwards. Pom Pom huffs and puffs about not only Welt, but you being late and taking too long, and how the Express is founded on the structure of the schedule. It’s okay, however, because Pom Pom will be thanking you two for your hard work (sweeping the other cabins, cleaning the windows, and vacuuming the carpet) at the end of the day.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server (16+) | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[gloomwitchwrites]

(I'm not sure if I'm doing this right, but here goes nothing)

For Imagines and What Ifs, how do you think the 141 men would react to you wanting to keep your last name after you got married?

Would be they be chill about having separate names? Would they be hurt that you don't want their last name? Would they suggest a hyphenated last name as a compromise? Or (my personal fave) would they change their last name instead?

Greetings, anon! You absolutely submitted a request correctly! I adore this idea. I love thinking about any of these men as married men and what they're like in that regard. I can easily see this prompt having angst and fluff. What I would like to do is answer the last half of the prompt. Those are four distinct questions, and four distinct ideas, and I think each of them matches to one of the 141 guys in turn. That is how I would like to tackle this request (if you don't mind).

I'm sure my selections might not match up with everyone's opinion but that's why fanfiction is so wonderful. We can all have different ideas and HCs and they are all valid in their own way.

Enjoy!! I had so much fun with this one!! Presented in four drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings: established relationship, fluff, light angst, married life

Word Count: 400

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“You don’t want to take my last name?” He sounds hurt, and that breaks your heart.

“It’s not personal, Johnny. I’ve earned my title.”

“I know,” he says softly. “You worked hard. But—” Johnny sighs and rubs his chin. He glances away, clearly growing agitated.

“I love you,��� you murmur, kissing his cheek.

Johnny melts a bit, kissing you back. “I’d like to call you Mrs. MacTavish.”

“And you can,” you reply softly. “Sometimes.”

“Like when?”

You need to turn his mood around. Leaning in, you playfully nip at his bottom lip. “When we’re alone. In the bedroom.”

Johnny grins.

John Price

“We need to talk about this, John. I feel like you’re avoiding the conversation.”

John’s tea mug pauses just before reaching his lips. “Avoiding what conversation?”

“About me keeping my last name,” you reply, crossing your arms

John sighs and places the mug on the counter. “You can do what you want.”

“Does it not upset you?” you ask cautiously.

“Not upset, love,” he says softly. “You’re a grown woman. I’ll respect what you want.”

You step up to him, one hand pressed to his waist. “Sure about that?”

John leans forward, stealing a kiss. “I’m more than sure, love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I don’t want to change my last name, Simon. It’s…special to me.”

Simon stands stoic and calm. He understands. Names are important. They carry memory. Sometimes good ones. Sometimes bad.

“That’s your choice,” replies Simon slowly.

“You’re not upset?”

“I’ll respect whatever you decide.”

Your sigh of relief is soft and calming. This has been a burden for you.

“What if I take your last name?”

You frown. “What?”

Simon repeats the question.

“You want that?”

“I do,” answers Simon firmly.

Names are important. Names carry memory.

Riley is Simon’s father's name. It would be a relief to shed it.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“How do you feel about a compromise?” Kyle asks softly. “Instead of us keeping our last names.”

It’s a conversation the two of you have had repeatedly after saying “I do.” You want to keep your last name, and while Kyle respects it, you sense he’s not entirely happy about it.

“A compromise? What are you thinking?”

“Hyphenate them.”

“Really?” you laugh.

“Yeah,” he grins. “My name first or yours. Doesn’t matter. A bit of both of us.”

You rest your head against his shoulder. “I can see it.”

“Be the same for our kids.”

“I like it,” you reply.

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[autistichalsin]

Analysis of each character's final words in the new Dark Urge evil ending

If you are romanced to a character, you have the option, when taking the new version of the Sins of the Father ending, to kill your partner in front of the others in your party, killing them with one last kiss. They then give their last words and pass away. I love each and every one and feel they are incredible characterization moments.

So let's break these down!

Lae'zel:

I... I am glad it was you. No other blade would have sufficed.

This is something that hammers home that, Vlaakith or no, Lae'zel deeply believes in all the ideals of a Githyanki. Life is a privilege for the strong, and death is the price of weakness. Further, if romanced, Lae'zel will affectionately call you "the source of my bruises" many times. If she has to die, if she has finally found the one person stronger than herself, then she is "satisfied" that it is you- who she both loved and admired. The only one she would ever consider worthy of besting her.

Karlach:

Fuck you.

Short, simple, and to the point, just the way Karlach does everything else. She's already gone through all her stages of grief with her engine- well, almost all of them. Anger still remains. She burns hot until the end.

Wyll:

I... I forgive you.

This isn't just Wyll being a good guy. This is heartbreak, and guilt. Guilt for not saving you from Bhaal's influence when he was so sure he had. Heartbreak that after he gave his literal soul to save as many people as he could, he couldn't save you- and couldn't save others from you, either. All he sacrificed, negated in an instant by the person he loved and trusted most. Of all the characters here, Wyll (tied with Halsin) sounds the most obviously broken, and it's easy to see why, given that he is self-sacrificing to a fault.

There was a set of scenes datamined from the game, where at the Morphic Pool, the Netherbrain would have taunted the players, causing them to hallucinate things related to their fears and insecurities. Wyll's would have been a vision of himself talking about how he was never a hero, how the Blade of Frontiers was a farce all along. One can't help but think about that scene here, wondering just how much blame, bordering on self-loathing, he might feel here.

Dark Justiciar Shadowheart:

I... I'm coming to you, Lady Shar.

Another short and simple one. By becoming a Dark Justiciar, Shadowheart has fully embraced the nihilism of Shar's teachings. Why be saddened or angry at her own death when this is just what she's embraced with all her sacrifices?

(Sidenote: this does also answer a question I had, namely, what was going to happen to everyone Durge kills. Thankfully it seems they aren't actually going to be sacrificed to him as such, and will indeed end up in the realm of their deities. This makes Bhaal's plan even DUMBER, because deities in DND lore need worshippers to have enough power to exist. Killing everyone at once just guarantees that soon after Durge dies as the last person alive, so too will Bhaal fade from existence.)

Selunite Shadowheart:

I... I thought we were going to save each other...

This Shadowheart rejected everything she knew. She was scared to defy her goddess, but worked up the courage- thanks to you. She thought you would have a new life together. She believed in you. She thought she would get to return the favor, and help you turn the page on Bhaal, too.

She's not just heartbroken for herself; she's heartbroken for you, too. Heartbroken at the life you denied both her and yourself.

Gale:

You made me want to live...

From the moment the orb entered Gale's chest, he knew he was at risk of dying. Then Mystra all but marked him as a dead man walking. But despite that, he finds love with you- and for the first time thinks maybe there is a purpose for him beyond Mystra. That he isn't more useful to the world dead. More than that, he wants to live to be with you, to enjoy your company and companionship. And then you kill him, and do the one thing WORSE than what would have happened if he'd never been pulled from that rock.

It almost would have been kinder to just hack his hand off the first time you met him, though Gale may or may not agree.

Spawn Astarion:

I should have killed you when I had the chance...

The angriest, most bitter response out of all the romanced companions, a step beyond Karlach's "fuck you." This is beyond "fuck you" and even beyond "I hate you." It's "I regret every moment I spent with you." You made him believe he could have better. That he could recover from what Cazador did. You even convinced him to spare the 7,000 spawn and that he could be something better than Cazador.

And now you reveal it was all a lie. Astarion is probably thinking that you talked him out of completing the ritual solely so he'd be easier to kill right here and now. How many regrets are flashing through his mind, how many moments where he wonders if things could have been different if only he'd done this or that, even aside from killing you?

All he wanted was to live as a free person. And then the first time he thinks he has that at last, he loses it as the world ends.

Ascended Astarion:

No... no, this can't be... I can't- you can't- no...

In contrast to spawn Astarion, ascended isn't angry, because he doesn't have the clarity, the ability to process what's happening. Spawn Astarion could tell he'd been betrayed.

But Ascended? Ascended, who went through so much to become one of the most powerful beings in the world, only to STILL lose without fanfare? And by you, his own spawn who he thought he had under his control? It isn't betrayal, because he is bluescreening; he can't comprehend what happened or how or why. How could he have been killed, and by you of all people? Was all he went through killing Cazador really for nothing? How could it be when he was supposed to be the most powerful? Was power actually meaningless all along?

He doesn't say anything of substance because he can't understand what's happening here.

Halsin:

Thaniel... goodbye...

Halsin is the oldest of all the companions. He's experienced the most loss of anyone; his birth family, his fellow Druids, and, for a time, Thaniel. He has had more than enough time to contemplate his own mortality, because he's already lived multiple lifetimes.

So here, two things are happening. One, he isn't expressing anger or betrayal at his murder- because he is more than wise enough, and humble enough, to understand that there are worse things than what has been done to himself. Instead of himself, he is thinking of the world he's leaving behind that is about to fall- and most of all, of his most important person, the one who gave him a purpose, who was there when no one else was, who he failed once and only just got back. The closest thing to a child he'll ever have. In his last moments, instead of himself, Halsin is thinking of those he loves.

And second, it's an almost deliberate snubbing of Durge. He willingly walked into that kiss, knowing full well it would be the last thing he ever did. He gave you his death, he pleaded with his own god to forgive you and him both. He gave you everything he felt he owed you, and no more- no begging or sobbing. Instead, he comes as close as he ever gets to selfishness, and spends his last moments thinking about the thing that makes him the happiest- which could have been you, in another life, if you hadn't done this.

Minthara:

No... we were meant to do this together...

Heartbreak, disbelief, and betrayal. You spent so many nights planning this out. She had been cast aside by her people, her goddess, and she was going to get the last laugh. She was going to crush them personally under her heel and prove she was the best (or second best, behind you) of all of them. She's devastated she won't get to help you torture all those souls and take what she feels was owed to her. But interestingly enough... no anger. Probably because it was overshadowed by the sheer heartbreak, but also a sign that even in those moments, she still admires you for your ruthlessness.

[rhaenyra-storms]

STOPP your drabble of cregan was adorable, we need more stories of him!! i would like to request something for cregan, where the reader is his lady wife and is introduced to jacaerys for the first time!! it’s up to you whether they have children of their own or it’s just rickon (cregan’s child from his first marriage), i like to think lady stark!reader would become eager to talk to jacaerys and his dragon!!

thank you so much!! i literally love writing for him omg. and i would definitely freak out too if i was able to see a dragon!! :,)

it got a lot longer than expected, but i hope you enjoy!!

pairing: cregan stark x wife!reader warnings: cregan is a little overprotective, that's it, just fluff words: 1.7k

You didn't want to believe it at first.

Cregan was sitting in the Great Hall of Winterfell when the news arrived. A few scouts had spotted a dragon flying north at a rapid pace and tensions were high in the castle.

Winterfell was far away from King's Landing, as was the coronation of the new King Aegon, but the Starks and the North were still sworn to the Targaryens. You and your husband had already suspected that sooner or later, you would be dragged into their mess as well.

Judging from the little time you had spent at court in the South, you knew the Targaryen family was a horrible mess. When King Viserys made the decision to name Rhaenyra heir to the Iron Throne, you knew it would be catastrophic as soon as the old King would pass.

"Do we know who the dragon belongs to?" Your husband's deep voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Cregan always asked the right questions, to the right people, but this time... everyone seemed a little clueless.

You placed a hand on your husband's arm, giving it a little squeeze. "They will not attack alone and without an army. They don't have reason to," you said in a quiet voice, just for him to hear. Cregan gave you a soft smile as he looked over at you, but his eyes were filled with concern.

While an attack was highly unlikely, he couldn't really exclude it entirely and that was already enough reason for him to worry. He wanted to keep you safe and all the people in Winterfell.

"We should still proceed with caution," your husband answered, his hand finding yours and giving it a small squeeze in return. He then pushed himself out of the chair, towering next to you, before he addressed the rest of the people in the room. "We will welcome the dragon rider into our home. With caution. I do not want to start a war with the crown, not when we have more important things to worry about."

Cregan knew the next winter would not be far and he needed to make sure his people were well-prepared and his men were strong. You had always admired your husband for his composure and his natural talent for ruling.

Two hours later, you welcomed the oldest son of Rhaenyra Targaryen into your home. Your husband had talked to him alone at first, using the Godswood as a sight of common ground and when a servant informed you that he wished for you to join them for dinner, you knew their conversation had probably been a positive one.

"Lady Stark," Jacaerys nodded his head at you as soon as you entered the Great Hall. He was a pretty man, his black curls a mesmerising sight. However, you couldn't deny that all the rumours you had heard about his father might be true then. He didn't have the signature Targaryen white hair and from the few times you had met Lord Harwin Strong, he seemed to resemble him quite clearly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my Prince," you greeted him with a smile. Jace gently placed a kiss upon your knuckles.

"The pleasure is all mine, m'lady."

Cregan watched Jace closely as you two introduced yourselves to each other, but after their short conversation he felt like he could trust Jacaerys. He had been kind enough not to threaten him with his dragon. Said creature was now waiting outside the Winterfell gates and he was sure the people of the castle couldn't take their eyes off it. The Lord of Winterfell himself could only describe the creature as mesmerising and a sight to behold. And he knew that his wife would probably love to meet a dragon.

The dinner went by quite fast and the conversations were lighthearted despite the general situation of the realm. Jacaerys didn't mean to only talk about the conflict between his mother and Aegon, but he knew that he had a chance to win Cregan Stark over for their cause. And winning over his wife as well in a way would be beneficial too.

"Have you ever seen a dragon, my lady?" Jace asked you after he placed his cup of wine back on the table. You could feel your husband smile next to you. He was very aware of the fact that you had always been fascinated by those creatures. Their freedom to fly, their strength and their sheer power. Dragons were pure magic in your eyes.

"Unfortunately not, my Prince," you answered, leaning back in your chair a little. Jace had mentioned "Vermax" throughout the conversation and you knew the dragon was waiting outside the gates. Its roars were hard to miss throughout the day.

"But I would love to. One day."

"Then today might be the day. If you wish to, of course," Jace gave you another polite nod and an inviting smile. The prospect of meeting a dragon had you ecstatic in seconds, but you knew your husband would suspect danger in this situation. He was more than right for that.

"I would love to accompany you two then." Cregan sounded determined, but still polite. A subtle sign for Jace to understand that he was good-willed, but still cautious.

The support of the North was vital to Rhaenyra's cause, so Jacaerys really didn't intend to mess it up.

"Vermax is a kind dragon. As long as you mean no harm." Jace waited for your husband to push his chair back and stand up first. You followed right after, hooking your arm with Cregan's as you made your way outside.

The sight before you was stunning.

It was already dark outside, but the dragon could hardly be missed. His olive green scales appeared almost black in the dark and your husband grabbed a torch from a guard as you approached.

"Relax, Vermax", Jacaerys spoke in Valyrian, making you raise your eyebrows for a moment. You wished you would have paid more when your family's maester had tried to teach you a few simple words in Valyrian.

"They're our friends."

Vermax' eyes turned into slits for a moment, studying both you and Cregan. The dragon was probably evaluating if you were a threat despite his rider's kind words.

"I've seen more outgoing dragons than Vermax, but he's a gentle one at heart," Jace explained.

It was fascinating to hear about dragons having different personalities and being a little more like humans in a way. Some were impulsive, others were shy. As a child, you had always wished for a dragon as a pet.

"It's... He's wonderful," you whispered, feeling your husband's arm wrap protectively around your waist. Cregan would rather throw himself in front of the dragon's teeth than watch anything happen to you.

"I know. Do you want to touch him?" Jace asked, his voice soft and inviting. "Only if you want to, of course. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable in any way."

Excitement bubbled in your stomach. You could feel the heat rush to your face. All your childhood dreams seemed so close now – meeting a dragon, touching a dragon and pretending for just a moment that you could be a dragonrider too.

Cregan's grip around you tightened, a small reminder of how all of this could backfire. A cold wind blew by and you took a deep breath.

"I will be fine," you assured your husband, taking the time to plant a kiss to his cheek. A small attempt to calm him, but you knew that he would always be worried for your safety. The Lord of Winterfell only knew you were safe when you were in his arms, sleeping safe and sound.

Slowly, you made your way over to the dragon. It seemed to smell your anxiety and retreated for a moment. Jace put up his hand, a sign for Vermax to calm down – to relax. There was nothing bad that would happen.

You gave the dragon time, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you couldn't take your eyes off the creature in front of you. It still seemed wary, but after a few short moments, the dragon eventually bowed down a little, lowering itself to the ground. It was a silent invitation for you to come closer.

But you still wanted to get reassurance from Prince Jacaerys who quickly gave you a nod and beckoned you closer.

It felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest when the dragon sniffed your hand.

Your husband was on the edge of his nerves behind you. His hand was already positioned at his sword, as if he would stand a chance against a dragon. "Careful, my love," he mumbled. He was feeling increasingly uneasy as he watched you and he let out a small gasp when you eventually laid your hand on the dragon's head.

Vermax closed his eyes slowly after he had eyed you enough. You weren't a threat. Not to him and not to Jace.

The dragon's skin was warm and hard, rough against the soft palm of your hand. "Seven hells..." you mumbled, watching in fascination as Vermax continued to relax.

Jace placed his hand on the dragon's wing for a moment, stroking it softly. "I told you he is a kind one. I would offer you a ride, but I think your husband might fall over dead if I do." It was a small jest, but it made you laugh softly.

You turned your head a little, spotting the Lord of Winterfell as he was tensing up more and more behind you. He forced a smile to his lips, trying to look more relaxed than he was. Cregan wanted you to fulfil your dreams, but he needed to keep you safe as well.

However, seeing you as happy as this, as your hand laid upon the dragon's nose, he couldn't help himself but smile a little more genuinely. His hand remained at his sword, but his shoulders relaxed nonetheless.

Seeing the joy in your eyes as Jace told you more about Vermax and the dragon seemed to be content with your presence, Cregan couldn't help but think about how many more days he wanted to spend like this. Seeing you happy was the biggest light in his world.

He'd do anything to see that beautiful smile. Over and over.

[velvetures]

Soap would be so fucking protective of you, and I can’t get it out my head. So now it’s your problem :)

You don’t like drinking? He’s the first to draw attention away from the lack of a beer bottle in your hand. Using that irresistible charm to woo everyone out of their questions and peer pressure to get you to join in. He sees how nervous it makes you. And he’s far too sensitive to your feelings to let it happen. Besides… he’s gotten really good at giving the right orders to bartenders, so that he can give you some fruity, soda-laden thing, that passes off as one of the other cocktails all your friends are nursing.

Uncomfortable family dinners? You know, that one where your least favorite uncle is oh-so-willing to give you shit for not going into the career all of them think you should’ve pursued? Oh hell no. Soap won’t spend one second thinking over whether it’s polite or not to speak up. He just does. Abandoning your mom’s casserole he’s been complimenting with a full mouth, just to look your bastard of an uncle in the face and tell him he’d be better off complaining to the business end of a pistol. At least then, he’d get a response that would shut him up for good.

That ex who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer? He’s as good as dead. Not that he’s instinctively jealous… because really, he knows better. It’s just the mere thought of someone taking advantage of your life. Of your time. He’s livid because you’re too special to be harassed like that. Treated like a game that can be picked up and put down whenever the mood arises. Soap won’t make a spectacle of it… but the monthly calls and texts suddenly stop after a while. And you think it’s because you finally broke down and changed your phone number a second time. But… that hadn’t stopped your ex the first time. Soap just shrugs. Giving the excuse that common sense might’ve given him a change of heart. Johnny just didn’t have the heart himself to tell you that ‘common sense’ didn’t have the chance. He was far quicker.

Soap had lived a life so uncomfortable for so long, that seeing a sweet thing like you experience it becomes intolerable. It’s as if all of the killing and destruction he’s committed was for nothing, when something -even trivial- blockades your walk through life. His nature is to fix the problem. And his training only enhanced the instinct to do it violently. Quick and controlled action, using brute force to make the world spin to your tempo. And god… you hate when he does it. Constantly reassuring him that you’re an adult. That you’re prepared for life not to be easy, and that it’s only going to make you stronger in the end.

He won’t hear it though.

He wants you soft. Desperately, actually. More of a requirement for his own happiness than anything. And often times he thinks that it’s selfish. That maybe he is truly robbing you of some experiences that might be good for you. Make the life you lead interesting for the kids and grandchildren you tell stories to. But then again, he’s so staunch in his ways, that it comes to fruition like muscle-memory. Placing you on your silken throne and taking a defensive stance in front of you like a medieval knight hellbent on keeping his royalty alive and well.

John MacTavish knows your place and it’s to be behind him. Right where he can protect and provide, without the fear of you crying or getting hurt by the seemingly endless amount of people who unfathomably don’t want the same things for you. They all say they love you… want the best… but he challenges it.

Every. Single. Time.