#i'm just getting all my ideas down in one place for now

[nezuscribe]

(previous part)

it's been a week since you've spoken to arranged!gojo, and he feels like he's about to start going crazy.

you don't speak during your meals, not even when he addresses you in a question. sometimes you spare him a glance, but he'd still rather see your icy glare than see nothing at all.

and he knows he fucked up. he knows that you seeing him alone with anya was perhaps the worst possible place you could’ve caught him, but he's been almost begging you to listen to him, to hear his side. but every time he goes to explain you leave abruptly, leaving him alone, feeling the looks of pity from those around the two of you.

and you know you're being petty. after all, the two of you are only bound by words, nothing else. if anything, the two of you were just becoming friends, so this shouldn't hurt you as much as it does.

but you hear the whispers of the ladies, hear of their secret proposals of how gojo would surely bed them if they just asked. how miserable he must be trapped with you, how this marriage is ruining his life. and you know anya, know about her history with him. before you were his wife you were the higher echelon wallflower, listening to all the gossip, observing from afar.

you've gathered some ideas in your head as to why he might want to speak with you. perhaps he wants to gently break the news that he's found a mistress, one that he actually loves. or that maybe he's already had one and now you know why he's been so secretive.

so the more he tries to talk to you, the more you pull away. you don't know why he cares so much, why this even matters to him. if anything, you feel like he should be content with your silence.

but he's not, and gojo grows more restless by the hour.

he decides he can't live like this anymore. tonight he's going to make you listen to him, even if you want nothing to do with him.

you're holed up in your room, talking with alina as she dabs lavender oil on your neck before you go to sleep. you know she knows about your silence with gojo, but ever friend, she does nothing to bring it up.

well, she wouldn't have to if he didn't come knocking feverishly at your door.

you watch in your mirror as she peeks her head out, her gasp of surprise causing a sinking pit to form in your stomach. you can hear how she scrambles with the titles of my lord, how she explains that you're nearly about to go to sleep.

it's late, the only light is the flickering of the candles on your nightstand. he should be asleep by now.

gods, you wonder for the millionth time this week, why does he care so much?

alina finishes up, closing the door slightly as she turns to you, her eyes finding yours in the mirror.

"i'm sorry my lady," she bows her head almost apologetically, "but my lord wants to talk to you. he's requested me to leave...if you'll excuse me," she bows, quickly leaving, not giving you any time to actually excuse her. you know she can't stay any longer, but you do wish she put up more of a fight. you watch her skirt bustle away, the door being left slightly ajar.

you try to act nonchalant, continuing to dab the oil onto your wrists as you look down, even when you hear the door click shut, even when you can feel his presence several feet behind you.

you sigh through your nose, heat rising to your cheeks.

"what?" you bite out, your own voice shocking you. you want to get this over with, not too desperate to hear about how he's ready to take on a mistress and shun you away.

you can hear him take in a deep breath, your eyes briefly looking up in the mirror to catch his, the same ones that make your knees weak, and avert your gaze.

"you haven't spoken to me in over a week," he says after a beat of silence.

you shrug indifferently, despite the fact that he could probably ask you the specific amount of hours it's been since the two of you had talked and you'd give an accurate number.

"i've been busy," you murmur, taking your earrings off as you place them gently in the little glass bowl to the side.

he doesn't say anything about your blatant lie, just nods slowly, as if he understands.

"i missed hearing you talk," gojo tells you quietly, almost as if his voice had been stuck in his throat, and you wonder if any man before him had ever tried to sweet talk his wife before he told her about his new mistress.

you don't say anything, still refusing to look at him as you stand up from your seat, turning off one of the candles near you as you smooth out some of the wrinkles of your nightgown.

"is this what you really want to tell me gojo?" you say bluntly, looking to the side momentarily, getting a longer look at his bulky figure, how he tries to make himself seem smaller, "that you miss my stupid jokes and dull stories?"

"they're not stupid," he quickly cuts in, his voice a little stronger, brows furrowed, "and i like your stories."

you roll your eyes, moving around the bed, to the side where he's not, and fluff your pillows. you've never found this useful, but it gives you something to do with your hands other than fidgeting with them.

truth be told, you're reflecting. you're scared of what it is he has to say, and so you try to appear stronger, and less caring, despite the fact that it's tearing you apart.

you try not to feel self-conscious of the fact that this is his first time ever seeing your room, or the fact that it's so bland. you didn't come to this estate with many things, and so you've tried to spruce up the space as much as you can, but aside from the few flowers and paintings on the wall, you fear it looks bland compared to everything else he's seen.

"and no," gojo adds, running a hand through his already tousled white hair as his arms crossed over his chest, and you finally allow yourself to stare at him, "that's not all i wanted to say."

he paused for a second.

"i don't know why i followed her out, or why i even stayed to hear her speak, but she kept saying these things about..." he trails off, gnawing on his lips as your eyes narrow slightly.

"me?" you finish for him, and his eyes dart to yours.

gojo nods a little bit, arms bulging a little bit as if remembering what she had said.

"i'm used to people staring at me, i lived with it my entire life. but with you, people..." he struggles to find words, "people stare longer. and i don't know why."

you raise a brow.

"do you want me to explain?" you say and he looks at you briefly, almost in a brazen way.

he shakes his head as if he had steered off track.

"that's beside the point. what i wanted to tell you is that she...she was saying some nonsense and i was about to leave until she offered for me to stay at the hostelry she was at." his blue eyes are wavering, his finger itching to get closer to you. this stupid bed is in the middle of you two and he wishes it were gone.

your breathing hitches a little bit, and you hope he doesn't see the sad tilt on your lips.

"so i banished her. or, well, i guess you saw her and then i banished her, but i would've done it regardless," he explains hurriedly, "look, i'm sorry...really sorry. if you want me to-"

"you banished her?" you cut him off, voice raised slightly in confusion.

his mouth gapes open for a second, and then blinks slowly, nodding.

"of...course," he tilts his head, his gorgeous head, slightly "you know that i am married, right? to you? she was offering to-"

"i thought you were going to tell me that you slept with her. o-or i don't know! that you were going to make her your mistress or something!" you spew out, your voice raised as you pace around the floor, moving a little bit closer to him as his eyes widen.

"why would you ever think that?" gojo says in a panicked tone, nothing like the man who commanded the northern army, but more like somebody who was watching his world burn in front of him.

"why?" you exclaim, shocked, "why? are you daft? every single woman wants to sleep with you! every single time we host those dinners, o-or we go to those parties, they look at you and they look at me and they pity you. i hear the whispers of the ladies, how they wouldn't mind being the other woman."

gojo hears the way your voice wavers, how your lips tremble, and the way you try not to let your bottom lip quiver. he sees the way you try to stay strong, to keep your image unbridled, but right now he feels like he's watching you break and he doesn't know what to do.

"so? what makes you think i'd do anything with them?" gojo argues, his voice raised a little bit, not in shouting, but in genuine disbelief.

you take a moment to step back and observe his behavior, and a nagging voice in your head tells you that he's telling you the truth. that he's concerned and worried, that maybe all he came to tell you tonight was an apology.

but that can't be correct.

so you sigh, your arms crossed over your chest protectively.

"i...i don't know," you murmur, "you sleep in another wing, you're always away. i thought...maybe..." you can't meet his eyes, fidgeting with the ring on your finger.

gojo takes a step forward, lips parted, cheeks rosy and flushed.

the two of you don't say anything for a minute, his chest heaving up and down. you feel like there's a weight both removed and added onto your shoulder.

"why didn't you say anything?" he whispers, "did you think...did you think i was...?" he can't finish the sentence, the words themselves too gruesome.

he doesn't say anything as he takes another tentative step closer.

you watch him, your eyes mirroring one another.

"i made a vow to you," his voice is heavy, traveling across the spanning stone walls, going deep into your bones, "and even if you prefer me to be your friend, i'll keep to that vow till the day i die."

your eyes gloss over, lips trembling.

you don't say anything, taking a couple steps forward as you smash against his chest, face crumpling against the stone wall of his torso as you hug him tightly, hoping that he can't feel the tears that seep through his nightshirt.

never in your life has somebody made a promise to you. and never in your life has somebody kept to that promise.

"thank you," you murmur, your voice muffled as his arms wrap around your body, steady and strong.

"and anyways, i'd prefer to be married to you than those miserable women any day," he mumbles into your hair and you laugh wetly, squeezing your arms tighter.

"really?" you say, tears blurring your vision.

"really," he hums, not able to say anything because he fears what you'd say if he told you that he'd rather be your husband and your friend. but he'd keep that inside, respecting your wishes.

if only he knew you wished the same.

[sanarsi]

Kinktober Day 12

Handjob

Oberyn Martell x prostitute!f!Reader

Gif credits @iamasaddie

Summary: Oberyn is busy discussing important matters for the kingdom but he can't resist taking care of you as you sit thirsty on his lap. Warnings: +18, MDNI, fingering in front of witnesses, pussy slapping, praising, dom!Oberyn Wordcount: 0,7k An: We're moving on bitches because my writer's block has been going down for now (please, I want to finish this fucking Kinktober by the end of the year. I swear I'll never get into this again). My birthday and the Sleep Token concert are comin up so I'm super happy and everythin in my life is slowly starting to fall into place so that means I'll be able to get back to writing and enjoy it <3

Masterlist and Kinktober Masterlist

You looked at the papers lying on the table. You didn't even try to read them, you just had to focus on something to keep yourself from going crazy.

Sitting on the prince's lap, all you could do was feel.

And now you felt him way too well.

“Oh gods,” you whispered, arching against his chest.

You glanced down to see his fingers slowly rubbing circles over your clit and didn't even dare to say anything, even though you could feel yourself leaking onto his robes.

You bit your lip to control a moan and pushed your hips a little into his hand.

His fingers disappeared immediately and a moment later you felt a slap straight to your pussy. You squealed quietly at the piercing pain and felt heat on your cheeks from embarrassment and excitement.

“Stay still,” he growled, glancing at you before returning to his conversation with the men next to him.

You didn't know what they were talking about but only because you weren't even listening to them. All you could focus on was how his fingers were slowly guiding you towards fulfillment.

You snuggled closer to him and spread your legs more as he gave you the attention you craved.

His fingers returned to slowly massaging your already swollen clit. As always, he did it perfectly. Each movement sent waves of pleasure through your hips, reaching places you had no idea about.

With a grimace of pleasure, you watched as his hand covered your pussy and after a moment, his two fingers sank into your soaked slit. You whimpered as you felt him slowly begin to fuck you.

With each passing second, you were getting closer to heaven, but his movements were too slow to end your torment.

You arched your back, dropping your head onto his shoulder as you drowned in the excessive pleasure that seemed to have no end. Your quiet moans, however, were not ignored and after a moment, you could feel a gentle kiss on your neck before you were once again left at the mercy of his fingers.

There was no shame in you even though several men were watching you, for you only he mattered, the only one who didn't give you as much attention as you needed, as you desired.

You tightened your hand on his thigh, silently begging him to let you end the fight with your own body, which was slowly starting to disobey you. You felt your pussy burn and with it the rest of your body, waves of pleasure passing through it as if you had already come even though you were far from it.

Despite this, you remained silent, knowing that you shouldn't speak. Your only permission was to sit on the prince's lap and humbly accept his caresses. And that's exactly what you did, except that with each subsequent entry of his fingers into your pussy, you were getting worse at controlling your moans.

It didn't escape his attention because after a moment, his touch was once again focused on your clit.

You whimpered when he slowly started massaging your sensitive spot again and you didn't try to fight the burning feeling of an approaching orgasm.

“My prince...” you whispered, barely catching your breath and tensed up, not wanting to break the feeling that was getting closer to your core.

You froze, counting the seconds until waves of pleasure spread through your body, pulsating through your body, bringing you the desired relief.

You moaned loudly, and everyone in the room fell silent, focusing their attention on you.

You panted heavily, trembling on his lap as his fingers gradually slowed their movements, allowing you to descend from the peak to the world of the living.

You smiled blissfully as you felt Oberyn run his nose down your neck to your ear where he placed a gentle kiss.

“Very good,” he praised you while running his fingers over your slit to collecting your juices before plunging them into your mouth. You sucked them in with a purr, licking them clean and only then did the prince's attention return to the matters he had discussed earlier.

But this time he had a satisfied slut on his lap.

Tags: @mattmurdocksdumpy @milly-louise @rosi3ba3z @candlelover @gothcsz @tateypots @chloe302225 @natalieispunk @amyispxnk @mandoloriancookie @libre-sol @alex-does-art-things @xxchumanixx @ch3rryyyyyyyyyy @bbyanarchist @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @ilovejoel-andjavi @uncassettodiricordi @puddles221b @syd-djarin @audie-writes

[livelaughloveluffy]

comfort - portgas d. ace

a/n: this is long overdue, but here is finally the ace version and that marks the end of this series!!! i have lots more series planned in the works, however, i like to keep my secrets every now and then, so you'll just have to stay tuned and find out 😌

nothing but fluff here 💗

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when he comforts you:

-like his brother, ace hates to see you sad. while he might not be as outwardly determined as luffy, he definitely puts in more effort than usual to make you laugh or smile.

-he'll never stop to hesitate before he pulls you into his arms, carries you into his bedroom, and give you endless cuddles. using his devil fruit, the feeling of his soft warm tan skin against you is one that brings instant relief. the sound of his soft voice murmuring sweet nothings into your ear. his strong arms wrapped tightly around your body as he gently whispers "i'm not going anywhere"

-ace is both an amazing listener and advice giver. he always knows exactly what to say to comfort and calm you while also either solving your problem or making you feel drastically less stressed about it.

-this man showers you in attention and affection. ace will grab your face and kiss you hundreds of times, or until you smile or giggle, with absolutely zero care for who is around to witness it. his eyes are always on you, and when you catch him staring, he'll give you his iconic little smirk. his hand is either intertwined with yours, or placed on your thigh when the two of you are together, he'll run his fingers gently across your skin drawing shapes or lines into you.

-ace does not hesitate to remind you how amazing you are and everything he loves about you. he'll give you a long laundry list of reasons why he is absolutely obsessed with you. never giving you time to doubt yourself.

-when you're sick, injured, or on your period: you've never been more grateful for your boyfriend being a human heating pad than when you're cramping on your period. no matter the time or place, ace will slide his hands up under your shirt and place them against your stomach, warming them to the perfect temperature to ease your pain. while he is typically a bit clingy in a normal scenario, when you don't feel good, ace absolutely refuses to leave your side. he will be curled up in bed with you the entire time, napping with you, providing cuddles, chatting with you, and all with his charming boyish smile never leaving his face.

when he needs comforting:

-ace really values your opinion and advice. being able to talk to you about his problems is something that took some time to get used to, being an older brother tended to hardwire him to always have the answer, and admitting that he needed help was a struggle at first. since you tend to have an extremely objective and fair stance when it comes to giving advice, it grounds him and calms him down, making him less anxious about any problem he is having.

-despite his confident energy and personality, ace thrives off of praise and words of affirmation. telling him that he's doing a good job, reminding him of his kind nature and character, how much you love him, makes all the different to him.

-physical affection is an instant relief to ace. crawling into his lap wherever he may be, dragging him to bed for cuddles, lots of kisses, constant hand holding, playing with his hair, tracing the tattoo on his arm or back, anything and everything is on the table, as long as you have your hands on him in some way, he'll feel much more at ease.

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a/n: i have no idea why i struggled with this ace fic as much as i did, but i simply can no longer look at my laptop anymore 💀

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[crimsoncandy04]

You know what? Fuck society.

(yandereifies your Kabukimono cutely.) (He's obsessed and afraid of losing you)

His hands held onto yours tightly as he pinned you underneath him on the soft mattress below you. His sweet face flushed with both desire and a deep sinister rage that simmered within his soul.

You had no idea your new roommate would be this upset over you simply wanting to go have dinner with a friend.

His innocent and kind disposition was clearly hiding something else deep inside of him. Something very dark...

...and utterly desperate for affection...

"You lied to me. You lied! You said you wouldn't leave me alone ever again after the last time!" His voice sounded both hurt and slightly unstable.

You tried to shake your head.

"Kabu no you don't understand! It was just a small thing I was doing with my friends! Just a few drinks together. I swear I was going to come back!"

"No! No! You were going to get hurt! What if you drank too much and fell down? What if you accidentally got sick or injured? What if someone attacked you? You were going to LEAVE me!"

His hands shook a little as they held yours in place beside your head.

Oh archons was he going to hurt you or something?

No.

The opposite actually.

Suddenly Kabukimono leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. Your heart raced as you felt his tongue gently lick your bottom lip as if asking for permission before he shoved it into your mouth. You blush and feel yourself freeze as you're mentally caught between shock and excitement.

"K-Kabu... when did you learn how to kiss?" You suddenly ask timidly.

He smiles teasingly at you as he moves to leave more small kisses down the side of your neck. His gentle yet raspy tone whispering in your ear.

"I may have seen people do it before... and read a few books. Taught myself the basics just in case. That type of stuff is everywhere you know? I'm surprised you actually believe I somehow WOULDN'T know by now. I'm not a child you know?"

You feel yourself getting flustered at his words.

Kabu had read dirty books before?

You feel his lower body press against yours next. A small gasp escaping from your lips as he lets go of one of your hands and moves to secure them with one as the free hand of his now runs down your chest and stomach. Stopping to cup the warmth between your thighs.

"Hey don't touch there ~" you can't help but moan softly at the sensation even if it's slightly unexpected. His fingers are both gentle and commanding all at once as they slowly trace along your clothed slit.

"But I have to touch here so it doesn't hurt. I need to get you ready right? Don't worry, I'll try to make it feel very good ~" his warm tone gave you little comfort but something about him practically kept you under a spell as you lay there trying not to moan as you felt Kabukimono slide your panties aside and carefully ease two fingers deep inside of you.

You whimper softly as you feel him move them around a little. Trying to see what made you feel best as he kept his eyes on your face. Finally he got a small moan out of you. A small smile spread across his face as he repeated the movement. Scissoring your insides open with his long slender fingers and rubbing your sweet spot as lewd noises escaped your mouth shamelessly.

"Kabu! Kabu please! It feels good! I love this!" You gasp as he doubles down and finally releases your hands. You grip the sheets as his other hand goes to push up your blouse and expose your breasts to him. He leans down to take one of the soft peaks of tender flesh into his cool wet mouth. Moaning a little himself as he sucked gently on your nipple and continued to finger you.

You feel your pussy clench around his fingers. Your breath coming out in gasps as you feel yourself cum on his hand.

He releases your nipple from his mouth and brings his fingers to his lips instead. Sticking them between his lips as he cleans your delicious juices from them hungrily.

"You taste so good Y/N~ I want to hear you make more of those cute noises too~"

You don't immediately notice in your daze. But by the time you do realize Kabukimono is fucking you, it's too late and he's already prying your knees further apart as he slides in between them. His tip teasing your entrance before plunging inside your oversensitive cunt to the hilt. A lovely moan leaves his lips as he pauses for a second. Almost as if he was taking in the feeling of being inside of you before slowly beginning to thrust.

He probably knew his size could hurt. So he was trying to be careful as you feel his tip kiss your cervix. His balls smacking against your ass as he leaned down to give you another kiss.

Kabukimono felt so right inside of you.

Like his cock was made for you and you in turn, fit him perfectly as well. You finally lose your composure then as he pushes your knees up a little and begins to fuck a little faster into you. His words coming out in between moans as he practically breeds you underneath him.

"Y/N never leave me! Please stay. I'll make you stay. You will stay! Please I love you!" He kisses you again. Sloppy and greedy kisses.

"Kabu harder! Please give me more! I need you! Please fuck me harder!" You whine as he obeys your slutty wishes.

"Y/N I'm going to knock you up ~ Then you'll have no choice but to stay with me forever ~ Don't worry, I'll take care of you ~ I want to fuck you everyday ~" he teased in between more kisses and a small lick across your cheek.

"You're so tight Y/N...so warm~" he cooed. His thrusts getting faster now as he got closer to his release.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close as you feel your own body reaching it's second peak too.

"Kabu please cum with me! I love you so much!" You whine. His eyes full of nothing but adoration and lust as they gaze down at your lewd expression lovingly.

"I love you too Y/N! Let's be together forever!" Both of you end up finishing after that. The feeling of your love fluids mixing together in your cunt gives you shivers as Kabukimono collapses on top of you. You both lay holding each other after that. The moon gets brighter in the night sky as you feel his cock harden against your thigh once more.

[kingkaizen]

Hi my love! I absolutely love the stuff you write for Nanami! I was hoping that you could write something (any length you want❤️) about the reader give him a handmade gift? I love making stuff for my loved ones and would love to see how you think he’d react to a hand made gift

∘ a/n: hi love! thank you for this adorable request i hope you enjoy <3

∘ ft: nanami

∘ includes: nanami on his birthday!!

The savory aroma of spices filled the air, weaving all throughout your house. One of your favorite traditions for Nanami’s birthday is to cook him dinner. Although you sadly couldn’t get him to call out of work for just this one day, you knew that he would be home just in time to enjoy dinner with you on his special day. After years of being together, you continue to try to top all of his birthdays after the last. He’s one of those people who chooses not to make too big of a fuss over them, claiming “it's just another day.”

To you, Nanami’s birthday is your favorite holiday. A day where you get to celebrate him in every way you know how. It always starts off as soon as he opens his eyes, showering him in kisses, low groans leaving his body as he slowly begins to wake. You know you’re not actually bothering him, but he would never admit to you how much he enjoys being woken up like that. You already had coffee made for him, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to stay with you long before work. Walking him to the door, he gave you one last kiss on the forehead before heading out.

Now, you can hear his keys jingling in the door, excitement immediately rushing throughout your body as you finish plating his food. It’s not long before you hear footsteps coming towards the kitchen, a tired looking Nanami walking through. Without a word exchanged, he opens his arms, a clear sign of what he’s craving. You move towards him, instantly melting in his arms as he wraps himself around you. A tired sigh leaves his lips, hands rubbing your back as he physically relaxes against you. 

“I missed you so much, my love.” Nanami whispered. You look up at him, watching as his eyes tell you so much without him having to say a word. You could tell his day has been hard on him, as they mostly always were. He places a soft kiss on your lips, making your heart flutter in ways you couldn’t describe. 

“I missed you more, honey.” You reply, kissing him on the cheek before pulling away. “I know you must be hungry, come sit down.” You motion to the now finished meal, watching Nanami smile as he takes a seat. “I’ll be right back!” You say, quickly walking to your shared bedroom, pulling out his gift. You were very excited when his idea for his birthday gift came to your mind. Trying to think of something that he could use, it wasn’t hard to come up with the perfect handmade gift that he would absolutely adore.

Stepping back into the kitchen, you held up a black box decorated with a red ribbon on the top of it. Nanami couldn’t help but smirk at your face, seeing the excitement written all over you. Handing it to him, you make your way to your seat next to him, watching in amusement as he tears through the ribbon to get the box open. He takes out a tie decorated with pictures of you and him, all sewed together. You know how much he loves his ties, and being able to make him one littered with happy pictures of the two of you makes it even more special.

“This was the best gift I could’ve ever asked for.” Nanami looks at you lovingly, taking your hand into his. “Seeing how much effort you put into making this day special…” he trails off, palm coming up to caress your cheek. “This means so much to me.” 

A warmth spreads through you, feeling his hand on your cheek and the weight of his words. You lean into his touch, savoring the quiet moment between you, letting the day’s efforts and all the love you’ve poured into this day settle around you both.

"I'm glad," you whisper, squeezing his hand. “I just wanted you to feel as special as you make me feel every day.”

Nanami smiles, a soft, genuine smile that he reserves only for moments like this. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few heartbeats, letting the world outside fall away. Then he clears his throat, looking down at the meal you prepared.

“Well,” he says, a hint of humor glinting in his eyes as he picks up his fork, “I can’t let this go to waste, can I?”

You laugh, watching him take his first bite, his expression softening as he savors the flavors. Moments like these—his quiet appreciation, the warmth in his gaze, the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours—make you fall in love with him all over again. 

For tonight, it's not just another day. It’s his day.

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[peterman-spideyparker]

The Great War (Babe Part 2) (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! At the risk of forgetting to post part two, I'm doing it now! Like I mentioned in the first post, it's only a part two if you want it to be--you can just have read Babe and leave it at that, but this is just more idea to go with it that I couldn't stop my brain from working on. Enjoy! :)

Summary: It's been almost a month since you left Matt. Everything hurts, and you're doing what you can to get through. Foggy calls, and it turns out Matt's not doing much better. For the first time, you have no idea what your future with Matt Murdock looks like.

Listening rec: The Great War by Taylor Swift

Warnings: ANGST, Matt and reader are separated (Matt cheated), they’re both heartbroken at the situation, swearing, fighting/shouting/anger, throwing, Matt grabs reader (NO VIOLENCE, but the Devil of Hell's Kitchen pokes out), depression (mention of the word "borderline suicidal" in reference to season three Matt), Matt being reckless, lots of crying, drinking

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 2,820

Before you can even say a feeble hello, Foggy is already speaking. “Matt’s devastated,” he breathes. 

You’re hurt. Offended, even. You left because of what he did in California, and he has the audacity to feel sorry for himself? “And I’m not?” you say, probably with more venom than appropriate. “Goodbye, Foggy.”

“Wait, hold on!” You don’t know why you don’t hang up, but you stay on the line. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the right way to start this. How have you been?”

“I’m awful, Foggy. My marriage is done, my heart hurts, I’ve lost the man I love . . . I’ve never been worse.”

“(Y/N) . . . I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Fog. All this is between me and Matt. It’s why you called, I’m guessing? Get all the answers for what exactly happened between us?”

“That’s between you guys. It’s none of my business or anyone’s. I’ve already ripped Matt a new one for doing what he did, and so did Karen and Frank, but he’s . . .” He stops and lets out a sigh. “Do you remember hearing from Maggie what Matt was like after Midland Circle? Despondent, depressed, borderline suicidal?”

Of course you remember, how could you ever forget? You’ve never seen him like that in your life. But the term “borderline suicidal” makes a pit grow in your stomach as you straighten up.

“He hasn’t tried to—?” you start to ask. 

“No, no, that was shitty wording on my part. But Matt’s not himself. It’s like watching a hollow corpse with a temper move about. He either doesn’t care at all, or a little thing will set him off. He’s being reckless on patrol, he’s drinking more than he usually does. I’ve been covering for him at the office, but . . . You need to talk to him.”

You close your eyes, tears rolling down your cheek. “I can’t, Foggy.”

“(Y/N)—.”

“He broke my heart, and I broke his in return. I stomped on it. I love him and I hurt him. If I talked to him . . . That’s salt on the wound for both of us.” More tears stream down your face as you think about it. “We both vowed not to hurt one another. H-He hurt me, but he wanted to fix it. I hurt him and don’t have that same courage to try.”

“Try now,” Foggy pleads. “Try now, help one another. Even if it’s for the last time.”

“O-Okay,” you say before you can realize it.

Foggy breathes a sign of relief. “Come to the loft.”

The loft. The scene of the crime.

You breathe a quiet confirmation before you hang up, taking time to mentally prepare yourself before you grab your purse and leave your sister’s place to talk Matt off whatever ledge he’s currently perched on. 

It’s a short trip, and Foggy meets you in the lobby of Matt’s building. He pulls you in for a long hug, and you actively tell yourself not to cry. 

“He’s that bad, huh?” you sniffle.

“Yeah,” Foggy sighs. “I’ve never been for him like this before. It’s like he’s not the same person.”

“I know what you mean,” you say quietly. “I haven’t felt like myself since that day.”

Foggy looks at you with a crestfallen expression, and you give him one more hug before you make your way up to the loft. 

Your key still works—you’re afraid if you knock, he won’t let you in. Hell, he probably heard you turn the block on your way here and wouldn’t answer out of anger or annoyance. Your stomach churns when you see Matt sitting in the chair. He’s in sweats, his posture is curved, his hair is disheveled, and he’s growing a thick beard. Beer bottles are on the table in front of him mixed with trash.

“Matt?” you breathe, but he remains unmoved. As you move closer toward him, he sits there like a statue, not caring to look your way. “Matt, it’s me.” Still, he doesn’t gaze your way. 

Putting your purse in its usual spot, you make your way over to him in the chair, gently cupping his face in your hands to tilt him up toward you. You suck in a small breath when you see the bruises and cuts on his cheeks, nose, and chin. If this is what his face looks like, you can only imagine the other injuries that his clothes are hiding.

“Matt,” you breathe. “What happened?”

He just closes his eyes in shame, starting to turn. You don’t let him, though, bringing his face back to center.

“Matty,” you plea. “Matt, talk to me, sweetheart.”

“You’re not my sweetheart anymore,” he finally says, and it burns like acid. You deserve it—you gave it just as good to him when he came back from California. “And I’m not yours.”

“We didn’t sign any papers yet,” you breathe, trying to lighten the mood as you hold back your own tears. “So, legally, I am.”

Matt peels back from my touch like he’s getting out of an itchy sweater. Okay, you deserve it. You deserve all of it.

“Matt—.”

“You left,” he spits. “You left just like everyone else, even when you swore you wouldn’t.”

You sit back on your heels. It hurts, but it’s the truth. “I did.” He turns back toward you like he’s shocked you actually admitted it. “I didn’t try to hear you out, and I’m sorry. I should’ve. It was . . .”

He turns toward you, ice in his blind gaze. You’ve never seen Matt like, this, and as he starts to slowly rise from his chair, it’s the first time you can say that you’ve ever been afraid of him. 

You spring to your feet as well, trying to at least keep things on the same level posture wise. 

“Now you’re trying to make things better?” he growls low. “You’re the one that tore it up in front of us. I wanted to stop the breakage, but you readied the wrecking ball. This shit is your mess. It’s like this because of you.”

Now you start to get mad. “Oh, just me? Any breakage that was the breakage that you started. Those images and videos were circulating for two whole days before you came home. I didn’t hear a single word from you—a ‘good morning’ or ‘I’m boarding my plane’ or otherwise. You just showed up here expecting it to all be fine—.”

“You don’t get to assume in this,” he grits, the space between you dangerously nonexistent as one of his hands tightly grab on to your wrist.

“Yes, I can. There’s two people in this mess. I’m saying what it seemed like on my end,” you say, your heart thundering in your chest. Matt wouldn’t hurt you—he’d never do that. But with how his hand is on your arm and the mood he seems to have been in since you left, you’re not entirely confident in that statement anymore.

“You never really knew a damn thing about me, did you?” he frowns. “You just kept a version of Matt Murdock in your head and lived with it this entire time, huh?”

“Maybe I did. Because this isn’t the Matt Murdock I came over to talk to. This is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. So, if you’re gonna let the Devil out, let him out on me, Murdock. Do your worst.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” he threatens, the muscle in his jaw feathering as he clenches his teeth. 

“No. I came here to talk, and that’s what we’re gonna—.”

Before you know it, his hand is off your wrist, wrapping around the neck of a beer bottle before he whizzes it past your head like a threat. You flinch, moving to cover your head before the bottle leaves his hand, and you remain curled as the glass hits something behind you, knocking it over as they both crash to the ground. You slowly turn to see what was caught in the crosshairs—the beer bottle had hit a picture frame, knocking it down off the side table and breaking it. You can tell by the shifts in his body language he immediately regrets it, his shoulders slumping as tears start to sting your eyes. You notice he starts to take a step toward you out of the corner of your eye, but you’re on the move toward the broken picture frame. One of the pictures from our wedding.

Huh, you think. How fitting. 

You lower yourself to your knees, carefully picking it up and looking at how your faces were beaming with nothing but joy, how you held onto one another with love . . . and now how it’s the opposite. How you’re broken. You wouldn’t look at him the day you left, and he won’t look at you know. You curl over the photo, freely weeping on the pile of glass. You just want it things to go back to normal.

You hear Matt pad softly over to you, squatting as if he wants to put a hand on your back to soothe you, but he backs away to let you cry. Tears pour out of you like a geyser, a constant flow down your cheeks as you sit alone in the living room. Maybe it was an accident that he hit the picture, but his senses are so sharp . . . maybe he did want to hit it. Maybe he was trying to prove a point. Maybe he wanted to show you that by you leaving, you were the one who put the final nail in the coffin of your marriage.

Maybe he really doesn’t want you anymore. Maybe he stopped wanting you before he went to Los Angeles. Maybe he stopped wanting you a long time ago.

You’re still crying when you hear Matt come back over toward you. Through your limited vision, you watch him clean up the broken glass from the bottle and the frame. It takes him a few trips, but it’s eventually all cleaned up. He leaves again before walking back toward you, holding out a box of tissues. With a shaking hand, you grab one and wipe at your nose, desperately trying to calm yourself. 

“This is my favorite picture of us from our wedding,” you sniffle. “This is what I would grab if I could only take one thing from the loft in an emergency. This would be it. And now . . .”

You can’t finish your sentence, just weeping uncontrollably in your little ball on the floor over your two deepest treasures—this photo and your marriage. Shattered. 

“Angel . . .” Matt says so softly, so tenderly, you almost forget that your life has essentially imploded.

“This is all my fault,” you cry, spiraling, trying to trace it all back to you, your actions. The big explosive things all seem to have their root in something you can place back to yourself. Matt slept with someone else, but it goes back to something you did— you had a short attention span and a bit of a short fuse before he left because a bunch of shit at work that kept piling up, and you knew he was frustrated . . . how much he hates planes. You egged him on. You did nothing to help, and when he left to go to California, he found someone who understood him in a way you couldn’t. You need an answer for this, and that seems to be it.

“This is my favorite picture of us, and it’s all my fault,” you sniffle, repeating what you said earlier, your chest burning from the tears and hyperventilation. 

“It’s just a picture—,” he starts to say softly.

“It’s not just a picture,” you weep. “This, us, it’s all my fault. We’re broken because of me. This is all my fault.”

You hear Matt pad softly over to you, squatting down and taking the picture from your hands, putting it on the arm of a nearby chair before pulling you in for a hug. All you can do is sob against his shoulder as he holds onto you. 

“This isn’t because of you,” he tries to soothe, sounding like he’s about to cry as well. “It . . . It was my poor judgement, it was my shortcomings that did this. You’re in the flaming wreckage, and it’s not fair.”

“I just want things how they were,” you sniffle. “I want to come home. I want us to be okay.”

Matt’s silence is terrifying. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt rage like that. Darkness like that,” he says softly. You feel a tear fall from his cheek to the top of you head. “Shit, I grabbed you . . . Fuck, I’m so sorry. I-I would never—(Y/N), please—.”

“I . . . I,” you start. He’d never hurt you. For all his anger, for all his strength, Matt would never hurt you. But when you’re facing off with the man that patrols the streets? The man that brought down Wilson Fisk not once, but twice? You just didn't know. 

“I scared you.” Tears are flowing down his cheek. “I could hear your heart race . . . I knew you were scared and for a moment, and I didn’t care. It’s like I wanted you to be scared, and I liked it. I was glad you were scared of me.” He sounds disgusted with himself. “You really thought I was going to hit you.”

“I did. For a moment,” you admit. It catches in your throat, but there’s no use in lying if you’re trying to fix this. 

Is that what you came over to do? To fix this? 

He lets out a long breath, slumping to the floor. “What happened to us?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” you say. And it’s the truth. You don’t really know how you got to this point. Yes, you know why you walked out, but it’s like there were the small hairline fractures in glass—so fine that you couldn’t see them—and then a hammer came down on it and a million little pieces was left in its wake. But how he sounds . . . you know that tone. When it’s been a rough night on patrol, it coats his words like sap—he’s going into a dark headspace, and when he gets too far in, it’s hard to get him out, and you need to get him out. You move around to carefully sit next to Matt, putting a hand on his forearm. You can feel a thick bandage on his arm before you can process that he winces, so you move to slide your hand in his. 

“I know you’d never hurt me,” you breathe. “I know you’d never lay a hand on me like that.”

“But I did, though. If I added more pressure, I could’ve snapped your worst. It would have been easy for me to do.” You see him swallow the lump forming in his throat, his own self-hatred inflating at a dangerous rate. “I was full of rage. You were scared of me.”

“I’m scared of all of this,” you admit, your voice small. “What’s happening to us. How it’s effecting you and me. We’re . . . We’re not ourselves. I-I don’t recognize either of us. I don’t like it. I want things back how they were.”

“But they can’t go back.” He sounds broken, hollow—just how you feel. 

“Are . . . Are we too far gone?” you ask just above a whisper, terrified of the answer. 

“I don’t want us to be.”

You hang your head. “I haven’t been sleeping,” you admit. “It doesn’t feel right without you, your arms around me.”

He places a gently hand on your chin, lifting your face up and wiping tears off of your cheeks before pulling you in for a hug. It feels like warmth. Like love. “I can’t sleep in the bed. It smells like you, and with you gone . . . I just patrol all night.”

It’s like when you think your heart can’t break any more, it does. “I still feel so upset, but, I feel hollow more than anything. Like part of me is missing.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. I-I’m so sorry.” He kisses the top of your head. “I should’ve listened, I shouldn’t have left like that, but I was just so upset. I couldn’t be around you without feeling like screaming or crying or both.”

“We . . . We can get through this. Can’t we?”

You think about it. Is this something you can do? You’ve been through worse— you’ve seen him near death more times than you would like, you’ve seen how the toll of Daredevil and the stress of being an attorney wear him down. Even the debate on how we should bring up our children should you choose to have them strained you both. But your happiness, your life together, it’s bigger than your low points. It has to be.

It has to be. 

Right?

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[v33n4-c4rn1s]

"Promise."

Remy LeBeau x fem!reader

A/n: This is my first proper fanfic! it's over 2000 words lolol and it's just Angst/Comfort with everyone's favorite Cajun! I'm really proud of this and I'm happy Remy gets to be my very first proper fic..i hope you enjoy!! also tag for because they asked so nicely :3 @kaidan-z

Summary: When wade wilson dragged you into the mess you were miserable, mourning and utterly heartbroken but now, after following Wilson and Howlett around for hours, watching them fight you finally get your end of the deal. Seeing a man you thought you'd never see again.

────────────────⋆༺𓆩🂱𓆪༻⋆─────────────────

Maybe it’s the fact this was all so..confusing.

I mean how are you supposed to feel when you come face to face with a ghost? 

Well, not really. A ghost would still remember, clutching time in its weary hands, allowing freedom and the soft embrace of closure. A ghost would know. Instead you’re both faced with the haunting idea of a lost memory. Something to yearn and claw for, barely scratching the surface of remembrance. A flame of longing and desperation that’s snuffed out by the force of time. 

- - - - - - - 

You were forced into this mess, against your own will really. One minute you’re sitting in your own misery, clutching a pen and paper, biting back inevitable tears. You mourned the loss of a man who had been long gone, Remy Lebeau. Your Remy. God he was the brightest star, the sweetest man with a sharp tongue. You loved him. You loved him more than anything. The best part? He loved you. Of all the wonderful people in the world, he wanted you, always you. Only you. So that's why it hurt so much when he met his end. 

That's why it tore a hole in your heart. He was tied to you, so deeply rooted in your soul that nothing could pull him away, no gentle persuasion could remove him. Only brute force, A harsh tug that tore him away and left you burning. Painful rage that was so blinding that people cowered away. So in this moment..you just needed solace.

But the universe didn’t give you that, instead You're hauled over some guy's shoulder who's blabbering about how “relieved” he is to see you.

So..what the fuck?

You later learn that you're stranded in a trio, a pathetic one at most. A merc with a mouth, Anger issues in a little yellow bundle (he comes with claws too.) and of course...you.

To most, you weren’t anything special. A mutant? Yes. Despite that being heavy enough itself, your mutation wasn’t anything flashy, just simple enough to cope with.

So why the hell did this bloodstained bastard take you of all people? 

- - - - - - -

So here you are now, stalking behind the pair you now know as Logan Howlett and..Wade Wilborn?..no, Wilson. That's it. Wade Wilson. He was the reason you were here. The void. That’s what this place was..a void. An endless layout of trash and gunk. The TVA, who you later learned “preserved the Sacred Timeline and prevented the creation of alternate timelines.” 

Turns out Wade’s universe was fucked because it lost its “anchor being.” Which was his universe's version of the grouchy companion he’d brought with him..or well, forced with him. Paradox, the one responsible (sorta) for Wade's wonderful kidnapping plan did not seem too pleased..especially since wade had to be that tiny bit extra and break his nose. So he sent you all here..the void.

Wade seemed to be a bit too friendly in all the wrong aspects..seriously how many sex jokes are too many? He’s sweet, you’ll give him that. You found that out only after he attempted to use you as a human shield against some bald headed bitch that only existed to grind on your nerves..But hey, that Johnny guy definitely got it worse.

- - - - - - -

The two overgrown children further proved their hatred to each other by fighting all their tension out in a shitty honda odyssey..all night. They fought till the sun went down. You just sorta sat there, lazily trying to wipe the nose bleed you had received after Wade shoved you to the ground in order to reach a “precious angel.”

..A dog. She was cute but you didn’t take too kindly to him picking a slobbering dog over your mental stability. Still, now all you really had to do was sit and wait for the two to finish their very loud and sharp disagreements. 

- - - - - - -

So..now you’re all caught up? Good. Then let me jump back to our present time.

He could have been a ghost, hell he might as well have been considering how much he paled when he saw you. The way the cards in his hands fluttered to a gentle stop. Even when wielding his weapons he was a gentleman. His lips parted..He wanted to say something, anything..but words could not find him. He just starred. 

To say you felt sick was an understatement. You felt like your body was about to give up any second. Overcome with the heaviest wave of nausea you’ve ever experienced. Here he was..a dead man. Standing in front of your very eyes..and he was beautiful. A little different..but beautiful. From the hair to the tip of his boots, he was the most gorgeously sculpted man you have ever seen.

“Chere?..”

“Remy?”

  Oh fuck. You’re kidding right? So this..version of him had a version of you too? He knew you? He knew you and without even knowing what had happened to his version of you, just looking at his face you knew that something so unforgettable had happened that he was just as broken as you.

“Ooh shit!! Are you seeing this!? I gotta say..i expected all the flashy entrances but look at these two lost loves? Ugh it's like I'm drawing in their self deprecating..”

Remy gave a half glance at the merc, scowling immediadently. His eyes set on him for just a split second before the glare was gone and he was back to looking at you. A softness creeping into his gaze that you didn’t think you’d see ever again. His brows furrowed as he took a step closer.

He knew it wasn’t his lost love but still. From the tips of your hair to the flush in your cheeks, the tentative grasp of your fingers against the fabric of your suit, the way your eyes brimmed with uncertain tears..it didn’t matter. He could rebuild. As selfish as that sounded he could rebuild it all if you’d let him.

“it..it ain’t you but-”

He tried to speak, he really did but the way you flinched at the sound of his voice made him want to cower like a small child. Your eyes fell onto the set of cards in his hand that he soon tucked away into the pocket of his coat. The gentle rustle of the fabric brought you snapping back to the present, a sharp gasp slipping from your lips as you carefully backed away, allowing Wade to take the lead again.

- - - - - - -

He watched you the whole time. He didn’t pay attention at all to whatever the hell the nuisance in the centre babbled on about. He watched you like a hawk. Eyes tracing over every piece of you. The way you bit down on the plush of your lip or how your lashes seemed to dampen everytime you blinked. He took note of the unsteady rhythm of your chest. He knew all the signs. When his eyes flicked back up to your face, he saw a tiny tear, barely visible but he could see it. It slipped down your cheek, resting on the curve of your jaw before it dropped onto the floor, seeping into the wood.

Remy had known you all his time in the void. He had no grasp on anything other than this wasteland and well..you. For a brief moment, he let himself daydream, just resting in the past, in the familiar sight of the sweetest smile he had ever seen. Yours.

- - - - - - -

“Don’t you think this is an awful idea?”

“Nonsense Chere, you think Remy doesn’t know a fine place when he sees one?”

His lips curled into a smile as he watched you glance at the rundown diner. It wasn’t exactly heaven, he knew that..but that didn’t matter, as cheesy as it sounds everywhere was heaven when he was with you. You laughed at the way he struggled to open a cabinet, the way he tugged at the wooden handle.

“Careful remy..it looks unsteady..maybe you should-”

“No need to worry about me Mon amour, what? You think Remy can’t handle a little push and pull? Dis is nothing, you just sit there and look- merde!!-”

It swung open, nearly taking him out in the process. You burst into fits of laughter, your knees buckling under how hard your laughter had hit you.

- - - - - - -

And that..bittersweet memory was the very thing that kept him pushing. Your laughter was the sweetest thing to him, he adored it more than anything and he’d longed to hear it once more.

He glanced over at you again, seriously he couldn’t stop. How could he? It was like looking into the past, the love of his life was a few steps away from him and he was doing nothing? What was wrong with him?

He couldn’t stand the silence anymore, the tension. He watched as you looked at his hands that were now nervously playing with his card deck. He carefully placed them all in one hand before pointing at you. He saw the way you jumped a little at being addressed. He then pointed to himself before pointing to the exit.

He wanted you alone, He wanted to talk.

Despite the ache in your chest, the tremble in your body, you followed him. You followed him out the arch and into the cool near evening. The sun was beginning to set, it casted the warmest glow over the wasteland. It was the prettiest thing about the whole dump.

The two of you walked in silence for a bit. The only sound filling the air were the gentle crunches of twigs beneath Remy’s shoes. It suddenly hit you. You were here, with an exact copy of your former lover. This was so fucked up.

He led you to a smaller campfire, letting you take a seat on the log before lighting the fire, sitting down with a soft grunt.

“Remy know’s dis is a bit..confusing and he’s damn sorry about it but..he’s gotta know, cher..”

His soft honesty brought warm butterflies to your stomach. The words rolled off his tongue, combed by his heavy accent. His knee bounced nervously as he watched your face, biting his lip slightly.

“It's..complicated, it would take a long time to even-”

“Remy’s got all the time in the world Chere, just talk t’him..”

You glanced at him one last time. He looked like a kicked puppy when you denied him. How the hell could you say no to such hopeful eyes?

And so you told him, you told him everything. The love, the loss, the pain. The way his absence had left a gaping wound on your being, leaving the ugliest scar and a hideous rage, a burning hatred. You spilled it all and it felt good. It felt good to finally just talk. You were so into explaining it all that you didn’t even notice the fact you were in floods of tears, droples streaking down your cheeks. Your breathing shortened as you forced more words out of your throat. You were too engrossed in the pain.

“Chere.”

His firm tone cut you off, he reached up, carefully swiping a tear away with the pad of his finger. It sent a range of sparks up your spine and you quivered under his gaze.

He watched you for just a moment before making up his mind. He knew he was overstepping the imaginary boundaries but he knew his Chere well enough to know what she needed. One arm wrapped around your waist and the other slid up to your shoulder, bringing you into a warm embrace. He was so different yet the exact same. He smelt like whiskey and leather. He smelt like home and it made you feel sick.

“Ma pauvre fille..”

He was so comfortable that he didn’t even realise the words that left his mouth, the soft claim he made..but you did. You heard it and it stung, it healed a tiny part of your wounded soul, to be addressed as his once more. You squeezed his shoulder, letting the last few tears fall. He pulled back, hesitantly cupping your cheek, relaxing a little as you leaned into his touch. This felt right, despite the gnaw of pain it felt right. To be here with him, to feel him.

Remy lifted his hand, capturing your smaller ones with a gentle touch. He pressed his lips to the back of it. A kiss, full of tender love and sweet affection. A rush of blood reached both of your cheeks. The cool air gently brushed against the heated skin. He leaned forward pressing another kiss to your forehead this time, letting his own rest against yours as he brought one of your hand to his chestplate, placing it above his heart.

“It’s yours Chere, mon coeur est à toi.”

You knew what he meant, he had promised you that despite all odds, if ever something went wrong, he would find you. He’d find you in every universe.

And he did.

Remy Lebeau was many things. He’d been branded as a scoundrel all his life..but if there was one thing he couldn’t do, it was lie to you. He was an honest man who kept his promises to you.

He fulfilled each one. Including this one.

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[skeletboi]

Part 17 of the Intridmensional AU!

This one starts right at the end of the last part, so I'd suggest reading the last few lines of part 16 before diving in here!

First /// Previous /// Next

________________________________________

“Would you believe I told ol’ Fordsie here to keep his idiot brother away from his project after what happened last time, yet here you are! HAH!”

“Ford…?” Stan asked, taking a step back.

“Sixer isn't home right now! Please leave a message after the beep! BEEEEEEPPPP!” Ford said before breaking out into laughter.

“Stanford… what in tarnation…” Fiddleford asked.

Stan grabbed Fiddleford's arm and took a step back.

“Didn't I just say he wasn't home?!” Ford said, tilting his head and smiling painfully wide.

“I don't think that's Ford…” Stan said, dragging Fiddleford back another step.

“DING DING! The idiot gets one point! I figured you'd be the one to catch on first, Fiddlesticks! How disappointing! You'd think you'd be better at recognizing the man you left your wife and kid for! Hilarious! How are they, by the way?! Or did you forget them?!”

“What- Stanford…” Fiddleford said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Fidds, something is seriously wrong, that is not my brother!” Stan said.

“‘Fidds?’ Damn, lesser twin, that's cold! Ruin your brother's life then steal his ex boyfriend, too?! Hah! No wonder he hates you!”

“What are you?!” Fiddleford asked, his voice shaking.

“Haven't figured it out, specs?! Hah! I thought you were supposed to be smart! What would Fordsy ever see in you?! You noticed his ‘sleepwalking’ and ‘weird behavior’, but even when I'm right in front of you you still can't put it together!”

“You're the one who came up with the portal idea.” Fiddleford said slowly, dread sitting heavy in his stomach, freezing him in place even as not-Stanford stepped closer to him.

“DING DING! Another winner! The name's Bill! It's a displeasure to finally meet you! You humans are so stupid! Once Fordsy finishes that portal your world will be mine! And another thing-”

Stan didn't wait to hear the rest. He grabbed a wrench from a nearby work table and swung, watching in horror as Ford crumpled to the ground.

“That was still Ford.” Fiddleford said, looking seconds away from passing out.

“What else was I supposed to do?! Let him keep sayin’ nonsense?! I mean-fuck! What the hell have you two been doing?! What is this portal you keep mentioning?!”

“It's a transuniversal metavortex.” Fiddleford said quietly. “A gateway into another dimension.”

“Why in the sci-fi hell would you want to build that?!” Stan asked.

“Because! He asked me to!” Fiddleford suddenly yelled, making Stan jump.

“I thought he forgot about me, Stanley.” Fiddleford said, quieter now. “I couldn't say no ta him after he called. I reckon lookin’ back now, I shoulda said no, but he was so excited-”

“Fidds!” Stan said, drawing Fiddleford from his quiet rambling. “Blaming yourself isn't going to do anything. All three of us have made some fucked up mistakes! Right now we need to find out what the hell that thing using my brother as a puppet is before he tries to turn on that sci-fi death triangle over there!”

“Triangle.” Fiddleford mumbled.

“Yes, a triangle. Glad you caught that part.” Stan deadpanned.

“I hafta dismantle the portal.” Fiddleford said, looking across the room at the machine. “Stan! We gotta stop this! We have to stop that demon!” Fiddleford grabbed Stan's arm and dragged him towards the portal.

“Missing leg, Fidds!” Stan said, trying to keep his balance on the dirt floor as Fiddleford pulled him.

“Right, sorry Stanley. I jus’ need yer help, There’s an emergency shut off. We can shut the whole thing down, but it takes two people!” Fiddleford said quickly, letting go of Stan's arm to rummage in his pockets for a set of keys. “Take this.” he said, pulling a key off the ring and handing it to Stan. “There's a spot in the control panel o’er there. I'll count ta three, then we both gotta turn the keys. Got it?”

“Fiddleford!” They heard Ford yell from behind them.

“Shit.” Stan swore, putting the key in his pocket and turning towards Ford. “Fuck you, you weird ass demon! Leave my brother and Fiddleford alone!”

“Demon?! Stanley, what are you talking about? What the hell happened?! The last thing I remember was you and Fiddleford fighting! Did he use the gun on me?!” Ford asked, panic rising in his voice.

“You happened, asshole! Don't play dumb with me, Bill!” Stan yelled back.

“Bill?! How do you know that name?” Ford asked, dumbfounded.

“Because he possessed ya! He told us his name, Stanford! How could ya trust a demon?! What happened to the idea for this darned portal bein’ ‘hard work’?!” Fiddleford yelled, finally joining in on the fight.

“He's not a demon! He's a higher being! A Muse!” Ford said. “I gave him permission to possess me as he saw fit, I just didn't expect him to do it now!”

“He possessed ya, Ford! That sure as heck sounds like a demon ta me!” Fiddleford responded.

“He- no- he…. he's my friend!” Ford said.

“You have got to be fucking with me!” Stan yelled. “Friends don't let you possess them and then shout insults at your actual friends!”

“Insults? He- he was joking. He loves joking, that's all.” Ford said frantically, taking a few wobbly steps towards Stan.

“Goddammit, Ford. You're too smart for this!” Stan said, turning away. “We're shutting this sci-fi nightmare down.”

“No!” Ford said, running down to meet them. “Stan, you can't!”

“I'm sorry, Ford.” Fiddleford said, making his way back to the machine on the other side of the lab.

Ford grabbed Stan's arm and yanked him backwards, miscalculating the amount of force he used and accidently throwing him against the control panel. Stan glared at him and lunged, grabbing him by the collar and pushing him backwards.

“Goddammit, Sixer! We're trying to help you!” He yelled.

“Help me? You have no idea what you're doing! You know nothing about Bill!” Ford said, sounding a bit unsure and pushing Stan back.

“Uh- fellas, careful ‘round that ‘quipment, there!” Fiddleford said, but the twins ignored him.

“I know enough! I know a con man when I hear one, Ford, and that demon is the ultimate con man!” Stan yelled, trying to walk away from Ford before he hurt him again, but Ford grabbed his arm and tried to drag him away from the control panel.

“How much of a con man can he be?! He was right, after all! I should have done better to keep you away from my project!” Ford snarled.

“Fuck you, Ford. If you want to believe that fucking monster over us, than fine, but we're shutting this down!” Stan said, pushing his brother as hard as he could, sending him falling backwards onto the lever in the middle of the room.

“No!” Fiddleford yelled, but it was too late. The portal crackled to life, filling the dark lab with an eerie blue glow.

“Oh shit.” Stan said, taking a step back.

“It works.” Ford said, smiling up at the light. “It works!”

“That ain't good, Stanford!” Fiddleford said, running over to try and drag Ford away. “We need ta shut it down!”

“We are not shutting it down!” Ford said, pushing Fiddleford away.

Stan tried to pull Ford away from the machine, but forgot, in all the commotion, about Stan's new peg leg. He grew up with Stan. He had seen him stand his ground against bullies twice his size. But that was back when he had two legs to stand on, so he was thrown off guard when Stan didn't stay standing. They both slid across the ground, over the yellow line where the portal could reach, and suddenly started to float.

“What the fuck?!” Stan exclaimed, flailing his arms and looking for anything to grab onto.

“Stanford! Stanley!” Fiddleford screamed, grabbing some spare cable from the ground and running towards them. “Grab on!”

“Tie it down!” Stan yelled, as he caught the cable and grabbed Ford's arm, holding on for dear life.

“I can't!” Fiddleford said as he started to slip.

The twins were much heftier than him and his shoes were not grippy enough to keep him down. He wrapped the cord around his wrist and reached behind him, trying to grab the lever to hold himself back, but his fingers just barely grazed it.

“Do something!” Stan yelled as Ford disappeared through the blue light. “Fiddleford!”

Stan melted into the blue after Ford as Fiddleford's feet lifted from the ground.

“Well, shit.” Fiddleford said, as he fell through the portal after them.

___________________________________________

This feels a bit like a cheesy movie scene. That's all I could think while I was writing it... but hey! We made it to the portal!

There is probably some serious plot issues with this scene, like was the portal even ready? Sure it was! It's January and they were going to test it in the next day or two, so... sure it was!

Would Bill leave Ford's mind if he was unconscious? Probably!?

Does Stan not hit very hard, because Fidds and Ford were both hit, and not out for very long?! Well, he was probably subconsiously holding back a bit- this is his brother and his new friend he met a whole day ago and would fight a literal god for.

Why does Stan immediately trust and want to protect Fidds?! He just be like that, okay? Fidds is someone important to his brother, therefore worth protecting.

Okay, I'll stop now.

I start a new job tomorrow, so the updates on this might slow down a bit... sorry. I need to survive in this failing economy.

[beescrafting]

You aren't my Lieutenant.

Angstful writing idea that I have for Ghost and Roach that ties into what I'm writing and to put Roach in the reboot series just cause I love him SO DAMN MUCH.

___

Ghost remembered his rookie days alongside Roach. They joined together around the same time. They hated each other's guts at first but soon became something like brothers, a nice relationship.

Then when he got captured by Roba and Ghost was truly made, Gary was by his side. Gary always was by his side when he lost everything. Except when he lost him. It was a mission... of course, it was a damn mission it wouldn't have been anything else. Gary was close to getting on the exfil before being shot.

Ghost mourned his friend, hell he looked at the damn build-a-bear Gary had gotten him one time to poke fun at him... he held it close before squeezing the palm of it. 'Simon don't be such a sad sap' the voice of Gray...

now Gary was gone...

Years passed and Ghost still felt the guilt, he was apart of the 141 now with Captain Price, Sergeants Kyle 'Gaz' and Johnny 'Soap'... it was getting back to some sense of normalcy if you could call it that.

And then they get a strange power burst while on base, and the alarms of an inturder ring through the building.

Ghost is the first to find him, it's Gary... it's Roach...

Roach doesn't recognize him, pointing a gun at him and looking around confused.

"Who the hell are you?" Roach muttered.

Ghost had never been so happy to have a gun pointed at him. For his friend was back... or some sort of version.

~~~

It was just a mission for Gary alongside his Lieutenant and Captain, invade a building, take down the machine and gather intel. Simple and plain.

So explain to him why he was trapped in the room with the damn machine turned on as his captain and Lieutenant tried to get him out, it was too late they all knew it... but it still hurt to know he was going to die like this.

"Hey Lt, Cap' think i won't be able to get drinks this time" He joked as the bright green light consumed him.

Roach expected pain, a firey sensation... But no... he was in some random dark room... it confused him. As he moved the lights suddenly turned on which freaked him out as he looked for hostiles... their was nothing... then how did the lights turn on?...

Roach quickly moved to radio to his squad, to his captain, to his lieutenant... nothing but static came through...

"Shit... shit" Roach mumbled unsure on what was happening... That when someone strange entered the room, and quickly shouted at him to stop. And what does roach do? What any good cock roach would...

Run.

He rushed past that random guy, a guy with a nice plain t-shirt and a baseball cap with the British flag. It didn't make sense for him to be back in England when the mission took place in fucking france!

He ran, and ran, the lights and alarms started. This place, this base, this compound or lab knew he was here now, he needed to find a way out and to get back to his team.

This place was large and confusing it was nothing like the building he was once in... He turned a corner only to find a door, it was better than anything so he rushed in and closed the door behind him. He heard the steps of men passing by yelling orders trying to find him.

Roach stepped back from the door for a few minutes, playing rock, paper, scissors with himself to calm down and focus. Once he was calm enough, he began to process what had happened. What was he going to do? He didn't know where he was, what had happened, or what he could do... It was just almost too much.

Roach leaned against the wall to this... what the hell was this? He glanced around, it looked to be a debriefing room... alright... he could work with this... just maybe.

He went through looking around for anything he could use, information mostly, it was all stuff about missions and Makarov... of fucking course Makarov...

He scoffed for a moment before hearing the door to the room open. He froze still for a signal moment before turning around raising his gun. Only to be met by one scary god damn mother fucker.

This wall of a person surrounded in black with a skull mask, Gary didn't want to know if it was fake or not, stared at him still just like him. It took all his willpower just to mutter, "Who the hell are you?"

___

im not feral for roach content... yes I am feral for roach content I just love him so much.

[procyonloser]

Pt 8

After much bed squeaking, panting, moaning, and appeals to deities Lucifer only maybe kind of sort of believed in on a bad day, Adam pushed himself off of Lucifer, and fell onto the bed beside him. He had a happy lazy look on his face, eyes still glazed from what Lucifer hoped was a phenomenal orgasm.

Lucifer reached down and tidied himself up quickly, throwing his condom away, enjoying how slick it felt on the outside before it went in the bin. Adam had been amazing, best sex Lucifer had had since before he was married.

"You pass," Adam said fondly, and Lucifer laughed.

"I didn't know I was being tested." Lucifer preened slightly under the compliment. "You know, I'm a perfectionist, what score did I get?"

"Me, I'm the score." Adam grinned cheekily, moving in closer to Lucifer's body, until Lucifer was practically resting his head on his shoulder. "I really didn't know what to expect from you, in general. I thought you were cute immediately, but Lute always tells me I have shit taste. But, most people don't make anglerfish jokes with me. Plus, you seem like a good dad, and I could use that. I mean, I do my job well, but I'm kind of a mess. Seriously, I'm never taking you to my apartment."

Lucifer felt his heart grow, and he leaned up to kiss Adam, even though he'd been kissing him (everywhere) all night, it still didn't exactly feel like enough. Was this what love at first sight felt like? Maybe Lucifer was getting ahead of himself, but it seemed pretty clear that Adam wanted more dates.

They didn't talk much more for a few minutes, just enjoying one another, leisurely kissing, touching, feeling each other. Until Lucifer's phone buzzed on the side table, and he was forced to retrieve it and look at the message. Apparently, Charlie had woken up in the middle of the night wanting her dad, and Lilith had just calmed her down, but thought Lucifer should know.

"You and the ex seem on good terms," Adam said, clearly having read the message beside him.

"Yeah, I mean. She destroyed my heart a few years ago, but we're okay now." Lucifer laughed, but it hid a not so deep hurt, one that kept the ring on his finger. "We had Charlie when things were starting to go south between us, which was a bad idea."

Adam made a noise of acknowledgement, but his expression grew slightly more closed off. "Yeah, never helps." He said, sitting up and resting his arms on his knees. "... My ex and I tried to have a kid at one point."

Lucifer blinked, eyes going big, before glancing down at Adam. "Did you... Were you?"

"...Yup," Adam said quietly. "...Only lasted till the end of the first term. I didn't want to try again after."

Lucifer's shoulders fell, and he moved in closer, wrapping an arm around Adam, to the best of his ability, given their size differences. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, but thanks." Adam said with a sideways smile. "Do you want to go out some time with Charlie too? I know a few kid friendly places."

"Anything with you," Lucifer said honestly, and Adam kissed him.

"You're so corny, I love it."

[639-hear-me-out-bby]

pairing: namjoon x afab! pregnant! reader

warnings: pregnancy mentions (nothing heavy, just the idea of being pregnant)

a/n: hello! so this is just me testing my waters on writing again after losing my mind to an indefinite hiatus + studying. hope y'all enjoy!

"Well, aegi has been very active recently. As much as I hate to admit it babe, it's probably 'cause you've been home over the weekend." You say as you trail behind.

"Pregnancy is no joke in Korea, hon. I'll give it that." You say as you trail behind Namjoon who's been carrying yet another box to the nursery. "Well, that's what a hardworking country gets. All the economy, none of the kids," he trails off as he enters the nursery, "Watch yourself, baby. You, your clumsy self, and our soccer star."

What you say is true. As you've been reading relentlessly all the prenatal books the world has to offer. It's been saying that you should listen to classical music or, at least, play music so it stimulates the baby and you have been doing that but it's just not working.

But life has been colorful on the recent days. All this "baby prep", as Namjoon would call it, has you in a whirlwind. Deliveries and packages have built up on your home's doorstep the minute you've hit your second trimester.

Namjoon carefully sets down the box, brushing a stray hair out of his eyes as he turns to you, a soft smile lighting up his face. "Guess our little one knows when Appa's around," he says, his voice a mix of pride and amazement.

You walk over to the box he’s just placed, giving it a curious shake, and laugh as he raises an eyebrow at you. "What? I'm just trying to guess which of your 500 delivery orders this is," you tease.

He chuckles, reaching out to pull you close, his hand resting gently on your bump. "Hey, I can't help it if our baby deserves the best. Plus, I have to compensate for all those long work hours," he says, a bit of guilt lacing his words. You can tell he's still adjusting to balancing his passion for his career with this new life you're building together.

You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you, grounding you in this perfect moment. "Well, all that matters is that you're here now," you whisper, feeling your heart swell as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

As if on cue, the baby kicks—a strong, unmistakable nudge that has both of you jolting. You gasp, and Namjoon's eyes light up, pure joy spreading across his face as he drops to one knee, hands instantly resting on your belly. "Was that…? Oh, aegi, you’re going to be a real little champ," he murmurs softly to the bump.

The way he talks to your baby, that quiet adoration in his voice, makes you melt. He’s already so in love, and you realize this journey is going to be so much sweeter because of moments like this. Your hand rests on his, fingers lacing as you both stay there in the stillness, absorbing every flutter and heartbeat.

In that moment, you know that, yes, life is a whirlwind. But with him, it’s the most beautiful one you could ever imagine.

[christinebloodwrittings]

To hunt or be Hunted

Alastor x reader x Lucifer

Chapter 1:

Warnings: Violence.

(Image: Dunes by Logan Feliciano. Source: Pinterest)

The dust kicked up every time you jumped to avoid the thrusts of her trident. It was becoming more and more difficult for you to move, with the blood falling down your side, your vision becoming cloudy, your back getting closer and closer to the destroyed foundations of what was once a building, until you were trapped.

Falling onto your knees, you looked up at her red glowing eyes, the two beasts fell to her side, their growl resonating deep within your bones. “I gave you a chance” she sure did, “I wanted us to be friends” her trident fell against your side, only one of the three knives grazing your skin, “But you just had to, right?” tears fell down her eyes, straight into the dirt under her heels.

“I…I underestimated you” you coughed out blood with a smile, “But I'm not dying here” she proved to be more of a challenge. No regrets, but you should’ve picked your fights a bit wiser. “This just can’t go on” she stilled the trident, trying not to deepen the already open wound, “We went through all the trouble of fighting, and you are going to let me live? Are you insane?” you growled annoyed and sore.

In between heavy breaths, she had an idea, “How about a bet?” one that made your lion ears perked up.

“Ten years, you'll work for me in my project, I believe I can manage to convince you to find something good to do with yourself” she ignited a warm yellow flame on her hand, it danced around her palm without hurting her, “What makes you think I will make a bet with you, or a deal for that matter?” you pushed her hand away, “This” she ignited her trident in the yellow flame.

With the blade she cut through your body and took your soul from you, just as easy as cutting butter. “I will kill you!” you yelled, a roar washing over your voice. She limited herself to smile triumphantly, as her eyes relaxed and shifted colors, “Now you kind of screwed, aren’t you?”.

“If I play along with your bullshit, you promise to give me back my soul?” you used the rubble behind you to push yourself onto a standing position, ungracefully so. “I promise” she offered her hand, the flame dancing in between her fingers. 

You finally took her hand, the light shifted into a dark hue going up both hers and your arm, the deal sealing itself on your eyes, changing them from red sclera to a black ones, your pupils remaining a white-silver hue.

It was a big relief when the trident wound started to heal with a hiss. “You’re awfully confident” you shrugged, placing your hand over the burning flesh. “Well, we have a long time ahead of us, don’t we?” she took it upon herself to support you on your opposite side, helping you walk away from the debris.

7 years later

When the hotel fell apart you received an order, “Take everything inside and take it to safety” and so you did. All that was pictures, pets, luggage, everything, you gathered it far from the fight, then she told you to stay put until further notice.

You took a walk around, trying to go unnoticed as you were ordered, going into your phone adding a lot of new kitchen supplies into a virtual cart, when a groan made you look towards the Radio Demon’s crashed studio. After taking a hit of Adam’s guitar-axe, you thought it was amazing that he remained alive.

“Princess, Smiley is alive” your connection through your deal was truly an advantage when far away, “Go see if he’s okay, try to stay out of sight, and if he needs assistance, help him” he was obviously not okay, but you had an order, so you made your way across the sulfuric smelling debris, until you reached the door of his studio, pushing it lightly, shadow launched at you, attempting to scare you away, failing terribly.

“I have an order to check if you are, quote unquote 'okay', demon” the shadow smiled and moved away, allowing you in. Shadows painted over your body a veil, which he could not see through, only the silver light your eyes emitted.

You peeked to your right from the door to see Alastor sitting on the floor, back against his desk, trying to hide a big gush on his chest with his hands, “Are you ok?” he shot you a look that you could call a ‘Fuck you’ and a ‘You have to be kidding me’ mix.

“Are you in need of assistance?” again he didn’t answer directly, he just growled making his prongs a lot bigger, “This intimidation skit will not work on me sir, so answer, yes or no” his ears bent down and stayed flat behind his head, “No” he muttered, refusing any help from your part, “Okay then” his shadow opened the door for you, after a small curtsy to the gesture, you moved away from the rubble, the rocks making tiny crushing sounds under your heel.

His shadow caught up with you, mimicking a stop sign with his arm, “What?” then he made a figure with Alastor’s shape, a needle closing up his wound and then the same demon all smiling and walking, “So you want me to patch him up” the shadow nodded, the smile wider and cheery, “What’s in for me? He refused help, why would I go through all that trouble for free?” then he checks-mate you with Charlie’s shape. He threatened to tell on you, “Good try joker, but you ain’t got shit on me”.

“Alright” you heard the plea from the echo that the radio cabin made.

You made your way back to the demon, as soon as he saw you he took a look at his shadow before his prongs grew any bigger, then at you taking off his shirt, he continued growling and making static noises, it became louder with every step.

As you took his coat and shirt off he noticed the tips of your fingers were a burned black color, your hands a much lighter color in contrast, light yellow, he would dare to even call it pastel, but due to the poor light he couldn’t decide on hues. 

Your nails were retractable ones, he noticed how you stopped before you touched the fabric of his coat, your nails went back into your fingers and then you proceeded.

“I’ll stitch it up, but that’s all” you took in the raw hatred in his eyes before continuing. “If you shower, avoid extreme temperatures, and apply alcohol near the edges to keep it from infections” you instructed while partially removing his garments, leaving both his dress shirt and coat hanging down his elbows. The shadow provided you with a curved needle and suture thread, a very resistant one at that.

“What the blazes!?” he shrieked when you undid his belt, only to tie his hands behind his back with it, “I don’t want you messing my work up” you explained, making a pop with your mouth at the end.

As the needle went through his skin, you found it weird not hearing a single peep off of him, then you discovered he was biting his lip, to the point it bled down his chin. “If you need to yell, do so, you’ll only hurt yourself if you continue doing that” his ears went back again, like a plea to make the pain go away, at the same time that embarrassment shot against his spine like a lightning. Then he yelled into the opposite side, to avoid receiving another smack.

When you finished closing the large gash, the shadow wrapped it up in bandages, “There you go” you stood up, dusting your knees before turning on your heels. He cleared his throat bitterly to draw your attention to the fact that he was still tied up, only to receive a disinterested giggle and your utter lack of concern.

“I’ve killed pests for less than this attitude you’re insulting me with” he thought that with an implied threat he would get rid of his binds and also get a little sign of fear from you, sadly his magic was weak, and so was the remaining strength he had, so he couldn’t free himself no matter how much he tugged on the leather.

He had a little bit of hope he could induce some authority toward you, but all he got was his hair pulled backwards and the cold steel of an ax pressed against his neck.

He took a couple of seconds to ask himself, how come you were behind him in less than a second? And also swallow the fact that now he was the one being threatened.

“Knowing how to pick your fights, may save your life one day” The edge of the blade made a sharp noise while being dragged up slowly up his neck, stopping under his chin. “You’ve chosen badly twice in a day, and barely walked alive off the first one” you tugged just a little bit harder on his hair, just to place your authority over his will.

“Tell me, are you dumb enough to bite the hand that stitched you, and die because your bruised ego and your big mouth are taking control of your rational thinking?” you couldn’t measure the amount of hate his stare held, but he attentively took your advice at heart, so he relaxed his eyes and his smile turned less demonic, only answering your question with a soft no with his head.

Withdrawing the ax from his neck, you used the point to let the buckle lose without breaking it, allowing the belt to fall down his wrists. “Start picking your fights more wisely, boy, afterlife 101” you mocked while ruffling his hair right in between his ears.

“Now, I don’t think someone will ask, but if they do, we never had this conversation, rep wise” he nodded, “You better-“ his tongue tied on itself, he reckon your face being inches away from his, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul, deer-est” you chuckled at your own wordplay, while all he could do was stare at your eyes.

“Who are you?” You assumed for a long time that hell had already forgotten you, after thirty years without making yourself present, who wouldn't?  Plus, he looked a lot younger than you, he lived on earth at least ten years longer than you, lucky bastard.

“No one” before he could make an attempt to grab your hand, you jumped out the door, disappearing from his sight into the mountain of rubble.

When Alastor made his way back to the new Hotel, he felt tempted to ask around about what he just witnessed, but preferred to keep his mouth shut. He wouldn’t admit in front of the others that the Radio Demon got assisted and handled as a whiny child, so instead he remained the smiley guy he is.

All the rooms got sorted later in the night, with a snap of his fingers everything in the new room looked exactly as it did in the old one. He placed the ruined coat and dress shirt on a chair, resorting to a gray suit he had lying around, “I should start broadcasting” he muttered to himself, making his way to his brand new station situated in the left wing of the Hotel.

After a few hours he came back to his quarters to refresh. He inspected his chest just to reassure himself, his scar had been closed with an almost religious delicacy. It almost felt like lace.

No one would catch the Radio Demon blushing while tracing his wound, but Alastor didn’t mind at the moment.

---

Hazbin Taglist: @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24 @martinys-world @alientee @jellyroom2 @jewelsrules @zealousllamawolf @kittycat246 @littlebluefishtail

[infinite--92]

Aging like Fine Wine

The Infinite 92 club was steadily gaining members, each with their own unique story and experience with the condition. The community became a safe haven, a place where women could come together to support one another and share their journeys. One day, a new face arrived at one of their gatherings, a woman in her early 40s who carried herself with a calm, confident presence. Her belly was prominently round and full, similar to Sophie, Miranda, Ava, and Emily’s, but it seemed to have an air of experience and maturity to it.

The Unexpected Visitor

Miranda, who had been facilitating the meeting, greeted her warmly. "Welcome! I'm Miranda, and this is our group. Please, feel free to introduce yourself."

The woman smiled gently and took a seat. "Thank you, Miranda. My name is Claire. I’ve heard a lot about this group, and I’m glad to be here. I wanted to share my story because, like many of you, I went through the same transformation."

Sophie, Emily, Ava, and the others listened intently, their curiosity piqued. Claire had an aura of wisdom about her, and they were eager to hear what she had to say.

Claire’s Story

Claire began, her voice calm but filled with emotion. "It was back in 1998 when I was just 18 years old. I was contacted by a pharmaceutical company—likely the same one you all encountered recently. They offered me a large sum of money to participate in a trial. At that time, I was young, naïve, and the idea of getting paid for a few injections sounded easy enough."

She paused, looking at the group. “Of course, I had no idea what was going to happen. Within a week, my belly began to swell, just like yours. It was overwhelming at first, and I was scared. But as time went on, I realised that this wasn’t just a temporary change. It was permanent.”

Emily leaned forward, fascinated. “You’ve been living with this condition for over two decades?” she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

Claire nodded. "Yes, and in that time, I've experienced both challenges and unexpected gifts. I know how isolating it can feel at first, but I want you all to know that it doesn’t have to hold you back from living a fulfilling life."

A Surprising Revelation

The room was silent as Claire continued, the women hanging on her every word. “I met my husband when I was in my early 20s. He was supportive from the start and loved me for who I was, round belly and all. We got married, and I went on to have two daughters.”

Sophie’s eyes widened. “You were able to have children despite... everything?” she asked, the hope evident in her voice.

Claire smiled warmly. “Yes, I was. But there was something different about my pregnancies. They lasted much longer than normal—around three years each, actually.”

The room buzzed with whispers of disbelief. Miranda, intrigued, asked, “Three years? How did that affect the baby?”

Claire nodded thoughtfully. "It was surprising, but as it turned out, the extended gestational period had some unique benefits. Both of my daughters were born with exceptionally strong immune systems. They’ve rarely been sick, and doctors have noted that they seem to age more slowly compared to their peers. They look much younger than their actual ages, and they have a vibrancy about them that’s different."

Ava spoke up, her curiosity evident. "That sounds like a gift, but is there a downside?"

Claire’s smile faltered slightly, and she took a deep breath. “There is one thing. My condition was passed down to my daughters. As they entered their teenage years, around 14 or 15, their bellies began to grow just like mine did. It was hard for them at first, but I had gone through it, so I was able to support them. They’re both in their 20s now, and like me, they’ve embraced their bodies. It’s become a part of who they are.”

Processing the News

The room fell silent again as the women absorbed Claire’s story. It was a lot to take in. On one hand, it was comforting to hear that someone had lived a full life despite the condition—they could still have families, find love, and live normally. But on the other hand, the idea that this condition could be passed down to future generations was daunting.

Emily, who had been quiet, finally spoke. “It’s incredible that you’ve been able to live such a full life. I guess I’ve been scared about what this means for my future, but hearing your story gives me hope. It’s reassuring to know that this isn’t the end, that it’s just... different.”

Claire smiled, reaching out to squeeze Emily’s hand. “It is different, but it can be beautiful. You just have to learn to embrace it. And having a community like this, where we can support each other, makes it a lot easier.”

Moving Forward

Sophie, Miranda, Ava, and the others felt a wave of relief wash over them. They realised that they weren’t alone, not only in their present condition but also in the potential future they might face. Claire’s story gave them a glimpse of what was possible—proof that they could still have a normal, happy life despite the unusual circumstances.

Miranda, always the visionary, saw an opportunity. “Claire, would you be interested in becoming a mentor within our group? Your experience and insight could help so many women who are just starting this journey.”

Claire’s eyes sparkled with tears of gratitude. “I’d love that,” she said. “I’ve wanted to find others like me for so long. I’m glad I finally have.”

With that, Claire officially joined Infinite 92, becoming a beacon of hope and wisdom for the group. Her presence marked the beginning of a new chapter for the community, one where they could all learn from her experiences and support each other through the uncertainties of their shared condition.

As the meeting wrapped up, the women left with lighter hearts and a renewed sense of purpose. They were no longer just victims of a mysterious medical trial; they were a sisterhood, united by their unique circumstances, ready to embrace whatever came next.

[ravengards-rogue]

lucky bastard

john marston x fem!reader

✧ tags : afab + fem!reader, gendered language, established relationship, outdoor sex, lots of dirty talk, john being an idiot, mentions of sex work, all of this is very consensual reader is just shy. 18+

✧ wc : 1k

✧ a/n : this guy makes me insane against my will. everyday of my life.

✧ synopsis : john is full of bad ideas.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

"John Marston," Your voice is stern, harsh as you whisper. Both hands on his shoulders pushing yourself from the grasp he keeps you in so tightly. "Get the hell—"

"Don't be that way angel." His words are sweet but his voice is filled to the brim with snark. Edge to edge. "What? You too good for fuckin' in the woods now? Too much of a lady?"

You smack his shoulder. His response is to keep you exactly where you are - which is in his lap on an open trail, later at night. No blankets, bottoms discarded in a heap besides you since John insisted on getting you skin to skin.

You're not fucking in the woods, you're fucking just outside of them - a place to camp near the trees in the Grizzlies East - near Moonstone Pond.

You're right besides the trail, right where any down and out bastard could trot their horse through and get a clear shot of what's going on. There's better places to do this. Deeper in the trees where there's no chance of of somebody finding you both, for one.

But John seems excited at the idea of getting caught. And when John gets in one these moods, there's no reasoning with him. He gets caught up in his wants as always, foolhardy and crass. Though you mind it less than you're honest about.

His hands find your hips, blunt nails grasping at you for life as he moves you. Doesn't move himself, but rather - moves you, slides you up and down on the hard length of his cock with a smile just short of smug and just past mesmerized.

In the dead of night, it's easy to hear how he makes you feel. What he does to you. The wet lazy sound of thrusts of his dick in you drown all noise of the lonesome evening. You wrap yourself around him in a fit of desperation, hitting your fists weakly on his back. He laughs in the way he always does, presses a kiss to the parts of you he can reach while you throw a fit.

"You're such a rotten, no good, irritating bastard, Marston."

"And you just can't stay away from me, can you sweetheart?" He holds you in place while you bottom out and you can feel him swell when you say it. You almost want to sneer. "It ain't like you to play coy."

"I'm not playing anything. Someone's gonna come out here and see and—"

"And what? Some poor bastards gonna ride through here and see you split open on me and wish he was me? You feel sorry for him? I sure don't."

Your voice catches at the sudden change. The change in pace, the change in tone, the change in demeanor. His hands grip you tighter and he flips you until you're laying in the grass on your back. His dick kisses your cervix at the new angle, legs wrapped around his waist and blinking in surprise from where he looks down on you. More scar than man, all sharp lines and dark hair barely failing away from his face.

He leans down that time. You think to kiss you but instead he hikes you up until your spine arches so slightly and he thrusts that way. Fucks his cock so deep into you, it feels like all the airs been punched out of your lungs. It's more invasive than it's been all night, bigger and thicker - makes it feel like your cunt is being pulled open. The tip dragging on your insides, sticky and sensitive on each motion.

You gasp his name out, hands find his hair - tugging just to have something to hold. "John,"

"In fact, if anything - we're doing 'em a favor. Only time they see a woman at all is when they're paying for her. They could only be so lucky seeing a woman as beautiful as you feeling so good for me for free."

You make a whimpering noise and swallow it down. John laughs, scruff against your shoulder. His teeth tug at your ear lobe as he positions you - hand sliding between your bodies as his thumb finds your clit.

"I'd put a bullet clean between their eyes before they touch you, you know that? But I'm a decent man so," He laughs breathless. "A look is all they're gonna get. Charity, ain't it? In a way.''

You make a face at him, disarmed - weak, purely and plainly in a way that makes his laugh go from smug to charmed, affectionate. He kisses you on the lips that time. Corner of your mouth, your chin and cheek and shoulder. His arm cradling you easy in his grasp as you keep your legs up for him to fuck you.

Fire runs through your nerves as all the sensations settle in at once. The pleasure of having your clit rubbed even clumsily is enough to make you whine out in pleasure, especially in pace with being fucked so hard again and again. Something turns in your belly, honeyed - hot, like pouring sugar over a flame. You feel the warm iron of your own want be shaped by John with every consequential knock and thrust.

You breathe out as his attitude slows to merciful. He gets like this when you get close - gets all softhearted and gentle even as he's fucking you senseless.

You sniffle. "You're such a bastard, Marston."

"Don't I know it," He hums, easy and keeps going. "Getting close for me, angel? Gonna make me a nice little mess to clean up?"

"Shut up,"

He chuckles. "C'mon. You gonna let go for me?"

You swear. "Y-yeah."

"Good girl," He praises. You can't even pretend not to keen when he says it. "Go on then. Show me. Let me see,"

With another unceremonious thrust, you unravel in John's arms like the threaded frayed ends of a piece of twine. Pulled apart, you cum on his cock hard - a tingling sensation spreading through your whole body as your back curls up. Your legs force John to stay bottomed out as you shudder. The overwhelming pleasure doesn't seem to end.

You only breathe after a few minutes. John coaxes some comfort from you with a kiss to your collarbone.

"Still mad at me?"

You roll your eyes and smack his head lightly. "Shut up, Marston."

"Shut up ain't much of an answer." He says, pretending to sigh. "Guess I'll have to make you go one more to earn that forgiveness huh?"

Your lips quirk. Idiot. "Guess we'll just have to see."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[monsterhunt]

THE EXPANSE.

v1. this version is highly plotted with @tiamatfcrged's characters un navy lieutenant who was on eros at the time the protomolecule was released on the station. manages to hitch a ride with the rocinante. becomes part of a protomolecule task force. married to @melodiesfcrged

v2. tbd but with the base of him being a un navy lieutenant.

[starry-bi-sky]

i have... ✨Danyal Al Ghul Headcanons✨ but specifically for my yaelokre danyal oneshot

There's also the tumblr post here but I recommend the link in the title because its the ao3 version, and that one is edited and has some stuff in it that's not in the tumblr post, and will be the version I'm using.

So for summary: this Danyal is also from a Demon Siblings Au where Danny is five years older than Damian. However, things turned out a bit differently, and Danny and Damian had a fantastic relationship with one another. Danny loved music and regularly came up with songs to sing to Damian with. Specifically the folk band Yaelokre's EP "Hayfields" (seriously go fucking listen to it its sooo good. Harpy Hare is the second song but its my favorite. Special shoutout to @gascansposts for introducing the band to me)

He falls off a train when he's twelve and Damian is seven while the two of them and Talia are on mission. He ends up with magically induced amnesia and wakes up in Arkansas while the Fentons are on their yearly Divorce-iversary visit to Aunt Alica, and since he can only remember his name, he ends up being taken into their care.

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

Yaelokre Danny has the same facial scar as Things in Threes Danyal, since he was initially another version of him where things turned out better. I'm debating on whether or not I should take it away however, and give him a different scar (maybe from when he fell off the train?), just because the scar is a pretty key identifier for Ti3 Danyal.

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

Danny frequently visits Aunt Alicia in Arkansas! Well, only after he gets settled in and stuff. He doesn't really like the city that much and prefers the countryside where Alicia lives. I know she lives in a cabin but I'm changing it to a farm, so she puts Danny to work and gets him to help her.

I don't want to confine his hobbies to only being star stuff, because people tend to have more than one hobby and I feel like it reduces him to one-dimensionality, so he likes to garden, and learns guitar. His room becomes filled with plants, and he turns their roof into a rooftop greenhouse right below to OPS Center.

He has a complex relationship with the weapons from his past, but he's not... like... appalled by it? When he finds his weapons in the Fenton attic all he thinks is that they're his weapons, and he starts carrying a knife on him afterwards. Essentially he becomes fascinated with weaponry because its one of the few physical ties he has to his past, and while he's not training like he is in the League, he allows his strong muscle memory to guide him through his katas.

Danny likes climbing things. This causes Problems For Everyone Else.

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

Danny was not the "kinder Al Ghul" in the League. His kindness extended to his brother and family, and that's it. To everyone else he had high expectations out of them, and the pride you'd expect from the grandson of Ra's Al Ghul and trained by its top members. While he wasn't like, unnecessarily cruel or anything, he wasn't merciful either.

This transfers post-train fall as him coming off as no-nonsense and unforgiving. He's not fond of the idea of giving people second chances, and is skeptical of the idea. He's disgusted by incompetency and views it as an unforgivable offense, especially if he thinks that the person should know better, although he's not sure why. Some egocentrism for the soul.

He doesn't like being touched by anyone who isn't family, and gets irritated when anyone grabs him or holds onto him for extended amounts of time. Dash has gotten hit so many times. With Jack Fenton's tendency for abrupt physical affection, it doesn't make it any better. I'd argue it'd make it worse because Danny doesn't want to be touched more often than not.

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

Danyal had a red scarf in the League that he wore on his last mission, it came off before he fell off and caught itself on the roof. Damian still has it and took it with him to Wayne Manor. He's got it locked in his room and takes it out when he's alone and missing Danny the most. One time he forgot to put it away before leaving his room, and Dick was visiting the manor for something and found it. Damian found him holding it and freaked out.

Dick could only say "I've never seen you wear this, Damian, this is really pretty--" before Damian shoved him to the floor and stole it out of his hands, before screaming at him; "Don't touch this! You don't ever touch this! This is mine! You hear me!?"

It caused such a commotion that the rest of the family present came to see what the fuss was about, and Damian kicked them all out of his room. Dick is the one brother Damian's the closest with, so the fact he reacted so strongly shocked them all.

This is likely what leads to the "Danyal" conversation.