#if it doesn't make you happy anymore then just go do something else

[strwberri-milk]

Hello I hope you're doing well.

I swear your Fics get me through the day❤️

I love the way you write about the boys!

I have a (sort of angsty I think) request:

How do you think each of them will handle/what they're gonna do if they aren't exactly the reader's/MC's type? Like, they're not in a relationship with MC yet, and they're in the stage where they're starting to court MC, and then they find out that MC's type is like their exact opposite, and that's where they sort of notice MC doesn't really consider them as a potential partner because of this

Zayne has never really thought that his feelings for you have been reciprocated. Somehow, it slips his mind to think that you could ever like him, especially since he's seen the types of people you had crushes on growing up. He'd never ask you on a date because of this, happy enough to stay your friend. That's why he was so surprised when you asked him on a date, the happiness in his chest dissipating as he began to realise that you simply didn't seem to have it in you to love him as much as he loves you.

His response is simply to break things off. He tells you not to try and force yourself onto him, that if you don't like him you don't have to pretend you do to fulfill some sort of perceived expectation you think he has. He doesn't really let the conversation progress further than that, moving past it. The two of you end up never really being the same, still able to be friends and hang out together but there's always something just bubbling under the surface.

Xavier doesn't realise what's wrong until he sees the way you look at other people. You do your best not to stray while you're sort of with Xavier but you also haven't had a conversation about exclusivity yet, despite the fact that he is wholly devoted to you. He doesn't entertain the idea of breaking things off, not thinking that things were that bad.

You end up breaking things off, telling him that it's really nothing he's done to you. You just didn't know how to feel, struggling to move into more romantic feelings for him. He takes it surprisingly well you think, acting as though things are totally normal. You don't realise that he's become even quieter than usual, not really taking team missions anymore and going out of his way to avoid you. He doesn't know how to cope with his feelings for you and a desire to make you happy, ending up further into avoidance.

Rafayel is devastated. He can tell immediately that you don't really like him, not in the same way you seem to like other people. A part of him wants to delude himself into thinking that maybe it's just a phase, that you'd eventually fall for him the way that literally everybody else seems to. The other part of him is angry, incredibly so. He doesn't like the idea of you messing with his feelings, being cold to you before you can reject him.

The two of you just end up drifting apart. He doesn't return your calls or messages anymore, internally begging for your attention but also being too irrational to consider that maybe if you two talked something could be figured out. He thought that being by your side would be okay as long as he could touch you but your rejection did nothing but make him spiral.

Sylus doesn't take your denial well. You aren't fully aware of it right away, but he's known from the start that you don't really care for him as much as he does you. He doesn't want to do anything about it, seeing if he could slowly encourage you into accepting him in further. He'd do everything he can to try and convince your relationship to progress further but things just seem to remain stagnant.

You'd have to tell him that things just aren't working out. The two of you struggle to maintain a cordial friendship afterwards. That's not to say you can't depend on him - just the fact that it's hard for him to act as comfortable around him as he used to be. He still aims to keep you safe but you lack that camaraderie that the two of you had.

[just-j-really]

Additional Dreamling hanahaki AU idea, which I am fond of enough to make its own post:

Hob fell hard for Dream in 1489, and unfortunately immediately got hanahaki about it. Fortunately, it's a weirdly manageable level of hanahaki. Like, the immortality bit definitely helps, but it progresses much slower than your average case of hanahaki, and it seems to reset, or at least get markedly better, every time he sees Dream.

He still never gets a chance to tell Dream about it. In 1589 he's got a five-step 'Impress him. Have a conversation with him that isn't about immortality. Flirt a little. Use whatever information I get to figure out if I can seduce him. Go from there.' plan that just immediately goes to shit. It's the least of his worries in 1689, in 1789 he doesn't have the chance, and in 1889 he attempts to reach out again (less a calculated 'sweep him off his feet' this time and more a 'hey, we're friends, do you ever see the possibility of us being something more?') and of course Dream balks at the friends part and that goes to hell.

An then 1989 rolls around, Dream doesn't show up, and the once-a-century reset button Hob had been depending on just. Doesn't happen.

He's in bad shape when Dream finally shows up thirty-odd years later.

Eventually Dream gets the whole story out of him (it takes a bit- Hob is afraid of scaring him off again, and once Dream tells Hob why he missed their meeting, Hob's got the additional worry of 'how to explain without making him feel even worse about being imprisoned for over a century').

And once Dream does get the explanation, he immediately connects the dots incorrectly: hanahaki is born of unrequited love, and Hob always seems to recover from his case whenever he sees Dream. This of course means that being subjected to the full force of Dream's unloveable terrible self is causing Hob's feelings for Dream to wane. So he decides to meet up with Hob more often (but not too often, he wants Hob to still want to be his friend, even if those romantic feelings fade).

Cue a horrific misunderstanding. The facts of the situation are that A: Dream is slowly falling in love with Hob. He'd been nursing a tiny little potential crush for centuries, hence their meetings giving Hob that little reprieve, but he only starts actually falling for him when they start spending time together. This means that B: Hob is recovering. It also means that C: Hob's feelings are getting exponentially, monumentally worse by virtue of having his crush nearby so often, and occasionally looking at Hob as though he could possibly feel the same way.

Dream, only aware of points A and B, has confirmed his suspicion that he's horrible and unlovable and his presence has caused Hob to stop loving him. (And like. Yes. The other conclusion, that Hob's recovering because his feelings are requited, is, in fact, right there. Dream is far too primed to believe himself unlovable to make that leap.) He's also having a Real Bad Time emotionally because he's DEVASTATED that Hob doesn't love him anymore and also just. So, so glad to see Hob healthy. The Dreaming is experiencing freak thunderstorms midway through, and occasionally at the same time as, perfect sunny days.

Hob, only aware of points B and C, is confused. He's still in love, so that can't be what's caused his recovery, and Dream hasn't mentioned returning Hob's feelings, so clearly that can't be it either. Dream's some sort of eldritch god-being, it makes as much sense as anything that he can somehow suppress hanahaki. And Hob can live with that, he's perfectly happy with Dream as his friend. (Honestly he's probably three quarters of the way to figuring it out, if nothing else Dream keeps bringing him gifts and it's beginning to make him suspicious, but he just... doesn't think Dream would withhold that information when he knows Hob's unrequited love was factually killing him.)

Thus follows months of mutual pining. They're essentially living together, at least from Hob's perspective- Dream meets him after work, unless he has some other plans, and sticks around until he falls asleep. He's not there when Hob wakes up, but it's overall absurdly similar to living with a partner who works early mornings. Hob is also Having Some Feelings about this.

Thing is, though, they're getting closer (despite the fact that Hob is clearly falling out of love with Dream), and Dream ends up eventually explaining who/what he is.

And then-

"Oh," Hob says. "Is that how you're doing this?"

"Doing what?" Dream asks, nonplussed. They're in the Waking world, at a table in the back corner of the New Inn. Dream isn't doing much besides keeping a curious eye on one of the bartenders' daydreams of social media stardom, and even then, he's not sure how Hob would know that.

"No," Hob says, his voice low. "How you cured me. I've been dreaming of a cure for centuries, did you make that come true, somehow?"

A rush of hurt and anger nearly overpowers Dream, but Hob's looking at him with such genuine, earnest curiosity, a touch of admiration, and he realizes the truth. Hob wouldn't be the first person to fall out of love with Dream and fail to realize it, continuing to go through the motions until every trace of affection for Dream was destroyed.

He isn't sure if it's for his own sake or for Hob's that he says, "Have you considered that there may be an ordinary cause for your recovery?" and waits for the sword to fall.

"Oh," Hob whispers. Dream watches as the realization dawns on his face, only- he doesn't look disgusted, or angry, or disappointed. There's relief there, yes, which Dream had expected. He hadn't excepted joy, but there it is, the same all-encompassing happiness he sees every time he asks Hob what he thinks of his immortality.

Dream should not resent this. Loving him has only caused Hob pain, he should not resent that it is a joy for him to be freed. Still, it takes all his strength to keep the storm that is currently drenching the Dreaming from manifesting in his physical form.

He must not succeed, because Hob's expression is slowly shuttered by worry. "You're sure?" he asks, quietly.

Even when Dream had found him all those months ago, flowers clogging his lungs, unable to seek help for fear of what his fellow humans might do to him, he had not looked this fragile.

"I am Dream," he admits, staring at Hob's hand where it rests next to his on the table. As though it could make this any easier if he refuses to look at Hob's face. "It is not within my power to cure you in the Waking."

Silence. Far too much silence; if there is one thing Hob should not be, it is silent.

Hob's hand reaches out to cover Dream's, gentle as snow covering a corpse.

"Oh, love," he says, his voice just as gentle, "You did."

In a sense, yes, he had, by proving to Hob that he was not a creature to be loved. But if that were true, then why-

"I should have said something," Hob says. "Weeks ago, I should have-" He cuts himself off and squeezes Dream's hand, sending a shock of hope through Dream; he's discovered that the person he'd thought to be dead in the snow is still breathing. And Hob's hand is warm, a hearthfire when he'd lingered so long in the cold.

"Dream," Hob says, as solemn as Dream has ever heard him, "I have never stopped loving you."

He says it with the same certainty he'd told Dream, centuries ago, that he had too much to live for, and once again Dream can only stare at him in awe. There are very few things that a creature such as Dream might consider a miracle, but Hob, he thinks, is one of them. Perhaps one day he will find the words to tell him so.

For now, he threads his fingers with Hob's.

(and then they very slowly and cautiously start up a romantic relationship, Dream very worried that Hob will stop loving him and Hob very worried that Dream will get scared and leave, each of them trying to gently reassure the other that no I love you I'll stay as long as you want me. and eventually they both realize that they're on the same page there, and 'as long as you want me' is 'forever')

[xray-vex]

"Like stuff. Don't be someone that doesn't like stuff, and if you don't like stuff, don't be a dick about it."

- David Jenkins

[dukeofankh]

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

[teddybeartoji]

going to the beach with toji and kids for the first time ever. it's only the beginning of your relationship, it's all kind of new – toji doesn't know what's about to hit him. sure, he's seen you with megumi and tsumiki before, but this? this is something else.

not only is his heart doing flips at the sight of the big smiles and the loud bursts of laughter you're managing to pull out of his kids, you're also wearing a fucking bikini. he hasn't seen this much of you before – the furthest you've gone during the late hours of the nights are steamy, handsy makeouts. he did take your shirt off the last time he had you below him but then you were interrupted by the little spiky haired boy, sniffling about a bad dream. after grabbing a blanket to cover you up, toji rested his forehead against your warm skin, grumbling something under his breath before looking up at you with soft eyes. you weren't mad – quite the opposite; you ruffled his hair and cradled his face, a gentle smile splayed on your lips. you pressed a haste kiss to his nose and then ushered him off of you, whispering something about his adorable son. toji scoffed. and smiled to himself.

the bikini. is killing him. he doesn't know what to do with himself. the scene playing in front of him is heart-warming and he should only be thinking about that, but how can he? the material is barely covering anything and you just look so... fucking good.

sitting in the shade, toji let's his head loll back, his eyes closing as he rests his hand over his face with a groan. he can't do it anymore. he's doing brain exercises to not pop the hardest boner of his life and you are not making it any easier when you keep giving him the prettiest smiles. you're happy, the kids are happy – everything should be good, but no – here he is, suffering because his parter looks fucking amazing. the fact that this is even a problem is mind-baffling to him. he is a strong man, no person is going to get to him just by being beauti—

"could you pass me the water, please?"

you're out to get him, he's sure of it.

toji peeks from under his hand and he's immediately blinded by a devil in disguise. the sun shines from behind you like a halo and the grin on your lips reaches behind your ears. sweat coats your skin and it makes toji's mouth salivate. what the fuck are you doing to him? hands on your hips, you stare down at your boyfriend and you give him another second to collect himself before quirking up a brow.

"toji?" you sound like a siren, you're pulling him in with your silky smooth tone. "the water, please?"

the corners of your eyes crinkle as you smile and toji has never moved faster in his entire life. "right."

he reaches for the bottle in the cooler beside him and gives it to you while making sure to look at you in the eyes and nowhere else. it's unbelievably hard – especially when the water starts trickling from the corners of your mouth and down your neck. toji gulps before turning to look at his kids instead. gumi's brows are furrowed as he's building his sandcastle while miki is busy building hers. toji cracks a grin.

"they're so– fucking cute." you whisper when you curse, a playful smile on your lips as you gush about the kids.

you love them so much already and you're glad that they seem to be liking you a lot too. that makes toji very happy; when the kids ask about you when they haven't seen you in a few days, when you do the same – he knows you really might be the one. it's a big thing to say, to even think, but he can't help it. it simply seems... right.

the water bottle hangs in front of his face and he's pulled away from his thoughts again. he goes to grab it and when he does, your free hand reaches out to him. warm finger wrap around his wrist and he melts at the soft, gentle touch. "come play with us."

a groan bubbles from his throat but it couldn't be any further from an annoyed one – you're sweet and you're excited, you're pretty and you're patient; you always welcome him and the kids with open arms and a bright smile. she would've loved you.

he throws the bottle aside and wraps his own hand around your own. "ya wanna play or the kids wanna play?"

his raspy voice and the stupidly handsome smirk he gives you make butterflies bloom and dance in your stomach. he makes you giddy, he makes you happy.

"i wanna play." you tug at him. "and the kids wanna play."

he can't say no to his little blessings and he can't say no to you. maybe running around will help clear his mind from the mischievious thoughts in his head. he doubts it, but he's needs to try.

in one swift move, he pulls your hand to his mouth while pretending to bite you and his eyes fucking twinkle when he sees your cute surprised expression and hears your little gasp. there's a moment, a second of the most comfortable silence before the corners of your lips twitch and you yank away from his hold, booking it towards gumi and miki with a loud cackle as toji pushes off the chair and takes off after you with fast steps.

your cheeks hurt from laughing as you watch toji catch megumi; he lifts gumi up with just one hand while tsumiki tries to poke her dad in the ribs in order for him to let boy go. when he finally lets the kids go... you feel his eyes on you. adrenaline pumps in your veins and you feel like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. you can't stop grinning. he can't either. a pair of arms wrap around your middle and your feet are being lifted up above the ground before you can even react.

while the kids are doubled over, running and stumbling over their own feet, toji growls in your ear. "gotcha."

you will take the next step today. no snotty kid of his will cockblock him again – they will be tired from the day and you will be all his to take care of. he'll show you his appreciation for being so good to him and the kids, for being so kind. and so... fucking hot.

he presses a kiss to your jaw but cringes when gumi and miki dramatically scream 'ew' at him. you feel him getting even warmer, his cheeks heating up and you try to save him by shooing the kids with a laugh. toji is grateful. he's happy that you're here.

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Your writing is amazing! I’ve been checking daily for new fics lmao

I was wondering if your requests were open would you be able to write some angst with a happy ending w/ Peanut?

Perhaps a Shy!Reader who has flirty banter with Logan. They’re on a mission and Logan has to make a quick decision on who to save — Reader or Jean and he saves Jean without thinking. Reader ends up surviving with a few injuries but her and Logan’s relationship starts to deteriorate. Logan’s not good with verbal apologies so he does acts of service — bringing reader food/drinks etc. reader is stubborn and Logan starts to get frustrated. He eventually proves himself to reader.

I’m sorry if this is confusing!! I’m not creative enough to write it myself and you’re really really skilled. Love your work x

a/n: I read this request and then read them together and my brain imploded because I loved it so much, no smut in this one Summary: Logan saves Jean on a mission and it's the wake-up call you desperately needed to understand that you will never be her. You can't stand to look at him anymore and he doesn't understand why you've stopped talking to him.

“What’re you thinking of doing after this?”

You shrug, leaning back on the uncomfortable bench seats and looking over at Logan. “Not sure, got any plans?”

Logan smirks and you immediately know whatever he’s about to say is going to send you spiraling. “Yeah, whatever you’re doing, sweetheart.”

Oh. My. God!

You know you’ve got it bad when something as simple as that has you swooning. It’s so easy to fall into this routine with him, to pretend you’re more suave than you actually are. Despite your usual tendency to fade into the background, you find it nearly impossible to do with him. 

Where someone else might let you stay quiet and go ignored, he seeks you out. He makes you feel seen and heard. Some days you don’t know if you appreciate it or despise it. You laugh a little, trying to hide just how affected by him you are. “Sounds good, Lo.”

He smiles and leans back on the seat, his arm coming around the back to rest lightly over your shoulders. You can tell from the look on Storm’s face that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You can’t blame her, you’re sure your eyes have tripled in size and you look absolutely stunned. 

Flirting isn’t out of the usual for you and him. Lately, though, he’s upped the game. Touching you more than usual, spending more one-on-one time together. You can feel it all building up to something. You’re shy, not stupid, you know when a guy’s going to ask you out. 

But it feels like he’s dragging it out longer than necessary like he’s enjoying teasing you a little too much.  “Alright,” Scott stands up and moves towards the back of the jet. “We’re almost there, get ready.”

You, very reluctantly, pull away from Logan and get to your feet. He walks past you, briefly squeezing your hand before joining Scott by the ramp. You grin, flexing your hand by your side and trying to memorize the feeling. 

The ramp lowers to the ground and Scott and Logan lead the way out. You’re expecting this to be simple. Stake out the area, find some information about the people running the warehouse, and figure out what exactly it is that they’ve been doing. 

The air is bursting with moisture. It’s suffocating, how humid it is, how it makes the material of your suit cling to your skin. You know the rest of the team can feel it. That it’s irritating them just as much. 

None of you want to be out here in the peak of summer, trying to be stealthy in these ridiculous costumes. Your thighs squeak every time they rub together. It’s beyond embarrassing. You know that that’s what has you all distracted. 

You’re struggling through ankle-deep mud and sweating buckets. So none of you are paying any particular attention to the area around you. Technically, you shouldn’t have to, you’re still about a mile out from where you need to be. 

You duck, hands coming up to cover your ears as Charles’ voice screams through your mind. It’s a trap!

Even with the warning, there’s no time to prepare. The ground around you explodes, grass and dirt flying through the air. Logan grabs your arm, he shoves himself in front of you and takes the brunt of the bullets. Splatters of blood hits your cheeks and he runs you both behind a tree for cover. 

The other three have all found their own cover and they’re struggling to figure out where the shots are coming from. You spot something in the underbrush and scream, “Behind you!”

It’s more of a warning to duck than it is to move. You throw your hands up, shoving the man away from them and sending him flying into the trunk of a tree. You swear you can hear the snap of his spine as it hits the bark. 

You look to Jean and nod towards the small clearing of trees. “Don’t,” Logan warns. But you’re already slipping out of his grip and solidifying the air in front of you. It provides enough of a cover, absorbing the bullets, and giving you all time to figure out a plan of attack. 

Jean moves beside you, eyes narrowing on the perimeter of your cover. “There are too many of them, more than I can count.” 

“How did they know we were coming?” Scott snaps, keeping an eye on the area behind you. 

Your arms struggle under the weight of your power. The more bullets they shoot into your cover, the harder it is to keep up. You’re forced to absorb their energy, push it out tenfold to try and keep the blockage solidified. 

“Guys,” you snap, “we need a plan. I can’t hold it much longer.” You grit your teeth, taking a step forward to try and push against the strain. It does nothing but make your bones ache. Logan shoots you a concerned glance, coming up behind you like he wants to take the weight off your shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do. 

There’s movement behind you, a boot snapping a twig in two. You can’t risk looking back but you can hear the worry in Jean’s voice. “Ten of them-”

You can tell by the sounds of their movement that the others don’t give her much of a chance to finish. Ororo, Scott, and Logan all shoot forward to deal with the threat. Ten isn’t much to worry about. But that doesn’t change the fact that the men in front of you haven’t let up and you’re about to weep from the weight of keeping the wall up. 

Jean stays beside you, brows furrowed in concern. She places her hand on your shoulder and closes her eyes. A second later you feel something like a cool blanket laid over you. The tension in your arms and core eases just enough for you to stop clenching your jaw so hard. Some of the strain eases away and you know she’s sharing it with you. 

But just as quickly as the relief was given, it’s yanked away. Jean jumps back with a gasp, “Flux, we need to move!”

“I can’t,” you shout, fighting to be heard over the sound of bloodshed and gunshots going off in front of and behind you. The others are steadily moving through the people surrounding you, but their numbers are still overwhelming. “It’ll all come crashing down,” you tell her. 

She glances towards the bullets, finally spotting the way they’re slowly, but steadily, moving through the thickened air. The second you let go you’ll be riddled with holes. “Shit,” she hisses. “Look, we can’t stay here much longer-”

She’s cut off by a loud bang. You’re so disoriented by the noise your hands drop to your sides. At the same moment, you hear wood splintering and cracking beside you. What has to be the largest tree in the forest creaks before it begins its descent down towards you both. 

You don’t what happened, or what they used, but it doesn’t matter. The wall in front of you is fading. You have seconds to get out of the way of the bullets and the tree, you’re not sure either of you is going to make it. 

“Jean!” There’s a flash of brown hair and Jean’s being tackled to the ground, safely out of the way of the tree and bullets. You feel something stinging against your shoulder and know the first bullet’s made its way through. 

You also see the tree is almost over top of you. You’ve always been a fight response in flight or fight scenarios. But when there’s nothing to fight, when you have nothing to go up against, you freeze. It’s horrible, you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Even as you’re desperately screaming at yourself to just fucking move, all you can do is watch as the tree topples down on top of you. “Flux, duck!” The words trigger something in your brain just soon enough to drop to the ground. 

Scott releases a red beam, blasting through the tree and knocking it off course. You don’t even register the smell of burning flesh as you lay in the mud. Your blood is rushing so fast in your veins, there’s so much adrenaline pumping through you, you can’t focus on anything except the sound of your heartbeat. 

You let out a breath of relief, slowly lifting yourself up to your knees. You don’t hear any more fighting and you figure whoever they hadn’t taken down before, the beam took care of the rest. 

You look down, checking yourself for any bullet holes or serious damage but you can’t find anything. Something warm trickles down your shoulder, it drips across your arm and down your hand. 

You look at the blood curiously, it seems to steady a flow from the simple bullet graze you’d had earlier. “Oh my god,” Jean whispers your name and you turn around with a concerned look. 

You want to ask her what’s wrong but your eyes are trained on the way Logan’s arms are bracketing her. He’s practically on top of her, only now getting up to check on you. You get it, it was a stressful situation, he acted fast. 

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the lump in your throat. It doesn’t ease the burn of betrayal. He saved her, not you. He chose her even though she doesn’t want him. The anger you’re feeling only makes it harder to be aware of your surroundings. 

It’s not until Scott kneels behind you a presses a gentle hand against your back that you lurch forward with a loud cry. The pain slams down on you all at once. The wind blowing gently against your back feels like someone’s dug razor blades in your skin and ripped. 

Feet rush towards you, someone kneeling beside you and grabbing your shoulders. Logan forces you up and makes you look at him before his gaze turns to your back. “What the fuck did you do?” He practically growls, lunging towards Scott. 

He grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the dirt. Ororo and Jean leap forward, trying unsuccessfully to rip him off. You try and keep your eyes open, try and stay focused. The pain is too much, you don’t want to be awake for this anymore. Every nerve on your back feels like it’s being forcefully exposed and plucked at. 

Your brain forces a shutdown and you slump into the mud, the world going black. 

When you wake up, you’re on your stomach. You’re a little dazed, not fully remembering how you got here. You try and sit up but there’s a steady grip around your wrists stopping you. “Don’t move,” Jean warns from somewhere behind you. 

You try and look for her but you can’t move much. Your head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, stuck to the pillow beneath you. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”

Her shoes appear in front of you and then she’s kneeling down, a slightly worried look on her face. “We needed to make sure you didn’t roll over in your sleep.” Her brows crinkle and she frowns, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head minutely. She sighs, lifting her hand to your face and pressing her chilled fingers to your temple. 

The images rush towards you. You see it all from her eyes. The way Logan had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, checking over her and not once looking at you. How Scott had tried to stop the tree from breaking your spine. His beam had just barely grazed your back as you had ducked. But it was enough for there to be serious damage. 

Through her view, you can see the way your skin had bubbled up and blistered. How horribly damaged it was. You have limited healing abilities, but it was enough to stop the nerves from being permanently damaged. 

She lets you go and you groan, the pain slowly registering in your brain. It’s dulled and you don’t know if they’ve given you drugs or if your abilities are still working to help you. “How’s Scott?” 

She chuckles and shakes her head while she undoes the restraints around your wrist. “He feels awful. He keeps coming by to check on you.”

The thought of him sitting beside you while you were strapped down to the bed makes you feel a little bad. It wasn’t his fault, he’d helped you. It was more than Logan had done for you. 

You frown, hating yourself for being bitter. If he hadn’t helped, Jean might not be here next to you. He had saved your friend. The thought didn’t bring much comfort, though. “I’m not mad at him.”

Jean eases you onto your knees and slowly helps you sit up. It causes minimal pain, but it’s still uncomfortable enough to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms. “I know, but he’ll probably be coming down here a lot to check on you.”

You almost ask her if anyone else has visited. If Logan had, but you don’t think her answer would make you feel any better. “He did,” she tells you and you click your tongue in irritation. 

“Out of my head,” you warn. She releases you with a small grin. “I don’t care,” you tell her, trying to appear nonchalant. 

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on you. “Yes, you do. And I don’t need telepathy to know.” She walks towards your IV bag, fiddling around with something on the line. “He was here whenever he could be, practically lived beside you.”

“Don’t care,” you tell her again, but there’s less conviction this time. 

Jean frowns and you hate how guilty she looks. It’s not her fault he’s desperately in love with her and not you. You can’t force someone to love you or choose you. And you don’t want to. You want someone to love you for who you are, not because they couldn’t have their first choice. 

“Don’t,” you say lowly. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door bursts open, both Logan and Scott sliding into your room. Scott lets out a relieved breath when he sees you. He breathes out your name and approaches with a guilty smile, “You’re awake.”

“Charles told us,” Logan informs. You offer him a brief glance before diverting your attention to Scott. 

Petty, you’re aware. But you don’t want to see Logan right now. You’d put so much effort and time into your friendship with him. It doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You two are best friends, and he didn’t even try to help you when you needed him the most. 

So, you smile at Scott. You forgive him and you tell him you're fine. You chat with him and Jean while Logan just stares at you from the other side of your bed. You can’t make yourself face him. You don’t want to look at him, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, Scott’s guilt is slightly assuaged and he and Jean leave for the night. Logan is a heavy presence beside you, one you no longer can ignore. You shift around, pretending to fluff your pillows until he grabs your hand. 

“What’re you doing?”

You look at his hand and then at him. Whatever look is on your face is enough for him to release you and back off. “Getting comfortable,” you spit out, more venom in your voice than necessary. Something clicks for him, you can see it as it happens. 

He backs up and narrows his eyes down at you. “Right.” He frowns and sucks on his teeth, nodding his head silently. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little better.” You don’t miss the hidden dig underneath it all, the way he’s calling out you’re unusual behavior. 

“I think that’d be best.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. You jump at the noise and it makes you hiss as a twinge of pain shoots down your spine. You feel slightly guilty about the whole interaction. Then, you remember the way he’d been cradling Jean and you feel slightly vindicated. 

You’re sure he doesn’t even give a shit. He’s probably pouting in his room, wishing Jean was in bed beside him. 

What the fuck?

It’s all that’s been playing through Logan’s head since he returned from your room in the medbay. He’s waited days for you to wake up, so he can finally take a breath and let go of the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. 

He’d thought that he’d lost you in that forest. When he’d gone for Jean, he’d assumed you’d just be able to use your powers to knock the tree out of your path. Or make it melt around you. 

Honestly, he can’t put a finger on what exactly he was thinking. But he knew that you could protect yourself and that would be your priority. So he’d moved without really thinking and grabbed the person who would be collateral damage if your powers went haywire. 

And then you hadn’t saved yourself and all he could smell was your burning flesh. The smell has been stuck in his nose since you were brought back to the mansion. He can’t escape it. Everywhere he goes, he sees you burning and hears your screams. 

He’d thought that you were dead and there was a moment where he genuinely was so lost he could do nothing but watch as the others swarmed you. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help you. He could only stare at your still body and pray to anybody who could hear him that you weren’t dead. 

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost you before he ever got a chance to love you. 

He’d, irritatingly, imagined all the different ways he would finally tell you how he felt when you woke up. He’d prepared himself for every possible reaction, except this one. He hadn’t expected you to reject him before he ever got the chance to confess. 

Anger stews within him as he paces through his room. He knows that it’s unfair to be upset with you. You’d gone through something horrific and there had been doubts about your recovery. Of course, you’d act off. 

Except, you only seemed to be directing that at him. Had you been just as dismissive to Scott, the person who actually hurt you, he would have looked past it. He’s tempted to go back down and see you again, maybe try and make you see some sense. 

Instead, he decides to give you both some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to do anything he might regret while he’s pissed off. He’ll see you tomorrow and, hopefully, you’ll be back to normal. 

You’d thought Logan might have gotten the hint with how you behaved earlier. That was not the case. He’s back today and you can smell the breakfast food he’s brought you. The smell is wafting deliciously from an inconspicuous brown bag. 

But you know it’s from the restaurant that’s twenty minutes out of his way. You’re not petty enough that you can’t appreciate the forty-minute round trip he’d taken for you, but you still aren’t excited to see him. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles at you despite your clearly hostile energy. He tugs the chair towards your bed, ripping open the bag and pulling out enough food for the both of you. 

You think it should be considered a form of manipulation to call you that while you’re pissed at him. He has such a clear effect on you. You know he’s aware of it. He knows that when he calls you something sweet like that it makes your heart race and stomach flip. 

You turn your gaze towards your blanket. You pretend the thread pattern is the most interesting thing in the world so you don’t have to look at him. You’re sick of giving your all to men who couldn’t care less about you. 

You’re tired of being the second, third, fourth choice. You want someone to choose you first for once. And you genuinely thought Logan would be the man to do that. But he’d chosen Jean. You should have known. 

“Alright,” he huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at you. You’re pissed off that he’s acting like he’s the one who was hurt. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve never been this mad at me before.”

It’s his tone of voice that really grates on you. He genuinely does not understand what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t even comprehend the possibility that you might be mad he left you to die. Have you really become such a doormat?

Yes, you’re shy and generally reserved with the people you meet. But he is so different. You two met and it was an instant connection that you thought was reciprocated. You hadn't realized that you'd become so complacent in the relationship he thought he could get away with something like this with no repercussions. 

“You left me to die,” you snap at him, voice taking a pitch it never has before. You’ve never truly gotten angry at him. Pissed off sometimes when he teased you a little too much. But you’d never plainly shown anger at him. “You fucking left me behind and expect me to, what,” you scoff and shove the food back towards him. 

“You think some shitty breakfast is going to fix this?” His face contorts. It screws up into something like hurt and you worry you might have been too harsh. He doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know that this would hurt you so bad. 

But, it doesn’t matter. You’re still his friend. You should have at least warranted a little concern. 

Just as quickly as it appeared, the hurt is washed away by his own anger. “I thought you could take care of yourself. Isn’t that what you’re always bitching at us about?”

If you weren’t so upset you might find it funny how quickly the two of you turned on each other. Clearly, there was something repressed between the two of you. Some brewing resentment that neither of you had ever acknowledged. The words are coming quickly now, without thought.

“Fuck you, Logan,” you snap back at him. “You didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. You only cared about your precious Jean.” You spit out her name with so much venom it stings as it leaves your tongue. 

He laughs, getting out of his chair. He shakes his head and glares at you. His anger is always a physical thing. You know he’s pacing so he doesn’t do something worse, like destroy the entirety of the room. 

“That’s what this is, you’re jealous? Don’t blame your fucking incompetence on me.” You hate the way he’s speaking to you. Like you’re a little girl who's incapable of understanding even the most basic of concepts. He has such a patronizing look on his face, you want nothing more than to wipe it off. 

The tables beside you tremble, the vases of flowers rattling against the wood. “I’m your friend, Logan. You could at least pretend like you cared about me.”

He leans against the end of the bed, tilting himself forward until he’s aggressively imposing your space. You shrink back against the pillows, narrowing your eyes in disdain. “Don’t fucking pull that shit with me. I knew that your priority would be to save yourself and I acted accordingly. This wasn’t some goddamn ploy to get into Jean’s pants. Grow the fuck up, Flux!”

You flinch back at the volume of his voice. Unwillingly, tears pool in the corners of your eyes. It’s an involuntary response. Sometimes you just get so enraged that you have no other way to get rid of it than to cry. It’s infuriating to see the moment someone stops taking you seriously and starts to think you’re nothing more than a crybaby. 

Logan’s face pales and he winces, backing away from you. “I didn’t-”

“Enough,” you stop him, voice thick with unshed tears. He never calls you by your X-men name, it’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That’s a formality reserved for the other members. To each other, you’re nothing more than two people who care deeply for one another. 

Or, you had been. Before this one moment had blown your life and your back up. 

“I appreciate how much faith you have in my abilities, but the fact that your first instinct wasn’t even to protect me says a lot.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head. “Thanks for the breakfast, but can you please just leave?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to. You know he doesn’t want to leave. You two never fight like this. Even if there wasn’t a lot said, it’s still not normal for you. Maybe that should have been your first hint that things weren’t what you thought. 

It’s healthy to fight, to a certain extent. Sometimes it's needed. You two never have before and you know it’s just been brewing for a while, waiting to blow up. “I-”

“Get out,” you shout, and the tables beside you finally crumble under the weight of your emotions. They drip to the ground in an inorganic form of liquid wood. “Shit,” you hiss, glancing over at them. You wave your hand and they return to their normal state, but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have lost control at all. 

The door slams and you look up to find the room empty. You sink back against your bed and run your hands over your face. You ignore the way the skin of your back screams in protest. 

You embrace the pain, the fiery shocks running up your nerves as the bandages chafe against the wounds. You focus on that instead of how things have ended with Logan. You always had such high hopes that he might be the one you finally man up and confess to. 

You should have known you were wrong. You should have known that it would never have ended with him picking you over her. 

You’re permitted to leave the medbay the next day. You don’t see or hear from Logan for the following week. You can’t confirm if he’s purposefully avoiding you or not but you have to believe he is. You both live in the same hall. You don’t know how it’s possible to have gone this long without even catching a slight glimpse of him. 

You force yourself to suffocate the part of you that misses him. You picture the side of yourself that longs for his presence and imagine shoving a pillow over her face. You don’t want to ache and cry over someone who doesn’t give two shits about you. 

You keep reminding yourself over and over again that when things got rough he showed you his true colors. But it’s more difficult than you imagined to just completely disregard so much history with him. 

Besides, you hadn’t realized just how little you interacted with the others until Logan was out of your daily life. It’s so difficult for you to bond with people that when you’d connected with Logan you’d latched onto him. 

It’s a little pathetic, honestly. Being grown and eating lunch alone because you only had one friend. You wonder if your feelings for him were genuine or born from a desperation not to be alone. You don’t let yourself linger on the question for long. 

It’s as your training with the students that you finally see him again. 

“Has he made much progress yet?”

Jean shakes her head and purses her lips. She watches as Billy, one of the newer students, struggles with the logs in front of him. He was a firestarter, a very inexperienced one who had only ever set his curtains on fire. 

His powers were more focused on the mental aspect of things rather than the physical. Which is why you and Jean were in charge of helping him. He couldn’t start anything on his own, he only really seemed to be able to activate the ability when he was emotionally stimulated. 

That meant whenever he was mad or sad, or anything in between, everyone in a fifty-foot radius was in danger. He was a risk to the other students and you were both trying to be gentle with him. But you’d been working with him for so long and there was so little progress. It felt like he wasn’t trying sometimes. 

He’d asked Rogue out a week ago and when she’d said no, her hair had caught on fire. You know he could have been hurt and lashed out without thought or malice behind it. But you’d seen the look in his eye. 

You’re fifty percent sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. This little act he puts on is just to get himself out of trouble. You hadn’t brought the issue to Charles yet because you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Billy,” you call out. His head whips up and he sends you a vicious glare. You can’t help the sneer on your lips. “Just take a deep breath and try again. There’s nothing wrong with struggling, we all did.”

You put on your normal teacher voice, calm and collected. Assuring. But the little shit in front of you isn’t buying it for a second. He gives you a sarcastic little grin, “Right. Sorry, I forgot you’re a fuck-up just like me.”

“Billy!” Jean snaps, taking a step forward to reprimand him. She doesn’t get far before there’s a fireball shooting out of his palms and hurtling towards the both of you. 

There’s no chance to react before something slams into your side and is tossing you to the ground. Your head nearly snaps against the grass but there’s a hand underneath your skull softening the blow. 

You smell something smoking and look up to see a large scorch mark right where you’d just been. Jean’s standing over it, palm outstretched as she keeps the fire subdued. She gives you a worried look, “Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, yes. You glance up to see Logan hovering over you. He backs off when he notices you’re okay, getting to his knees and offering you a hand. Wordlessly, you slip your palm into his and let him help you into a sitting position. 

“You alright,” his hand hovers over your shoulder like he wants to pull you closer. But he resists, backing off and waiting for your answer. You nod your head, still a little dazed from the failed assassination attempt. 

He narrows his eyes, searching your face for any sign of head trauma. When he’s properly assured you’re okay he jumps to his feet. “Billy!” His voice booms across the courtyard and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen that little asshole scared. 

He’s barely on his feet before Logan is stalking towards him, jerking him forward by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the mansion. “We need to have a little talk,” the tone of his voice has you a little scared and you’re not even the one he’s mad at. 

Jean walks towards you and helps you to your feet. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod and brush your clothes off. You have to physically shake the shock of what happened off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t believe he did that.”

Jean scoffs and glares towards Billy’s back. Your eyes widen in shock when you see the large scorch mark across his arm. “Jean! He got you, are you okay?”

She glances down at her shirt and frowns. “Yeah, practically a sunburn.” She gives you a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”

As shitty as this sounds, you’re not concerned for her. You can only focus on the fact that she was in just as much danger as you and Logan had tackled you to the ground. You glance back towards the mansion, more fucking confused than ever. 

You’re not sure what compels you to follow Logan, but you’re running after him before Jean can stop you. He’s barely got a minute headstart on you, you’re not sure why you can’t find him. You’d gone through every inch of the first floor. 

You don’t know where he would have dragged Billy, but it’s nowhere you can find. After about ten minutes of looking for him, you give up on the hope that you’re ever going to figure out what’s happening inside his brain. 

You let out a defeated sigh, running a hand over your face and trying to shake off the funk of the day. You can’t believe that little shit tried to roast you. You’re not comfortable with the fact that he’s just roaming around inside the mansion somewhere. 

You turn out of the living room and nearly slam into someone. His hands shoot out, grabbing your shoulders and gently stopping you. “Logan,” you give him a strained smile. “I was looking for you.” You glance over his shoulder and frown. “Where’s Billy?”

Logan sighs, his hands linger on your arms for a moment before he takes a step back. “Wheels got to him before I could do anything.”

You laugh a little, the noise involuntary. “What were you planning on doing with the sixteen-year-old?”

He doesn’t find the question amusing if his expression is anything to go by. “He was really trying to hurt you.”

His words sober you up slightly and you drop the flippant attitude. “Yeah, I wanted to,” god, it feels like you could choke on the words. Just last week you were screaming at him for not helping you. Now, you could barely thank him because he had. 

“You’re always my priority.” He tells you before you can struggle any longer. Your head shoots up and you stare at him with confusion. He groans, the noise tired and resigned. “Saving Jean was a mistake. I mean it, kid, I just thought you could handle yourself.”

You open your mouth but he stops you before you can argue. “I know, that’s not the point. I should have saved you, no matter what I thought you could or couldn't handle.”

“No,” you stop him and shake your head. “No, Logan, I shouldn’t. I,” your mouth opens and he stares at you expectantly. What you were going to say gets stuck in your throat. This is a horrible idea. 

“I liked you in a way you didn’t like me and it was unfair of me to push my expectations onto you.” You wanted it to sound better, and more intelligent. Instead, it came out in one rushed breath and you’re not sure he even understood half of what you said. 

His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s smiling. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or about to profess his undying love. 

You don’t have to wonder for long. He moves closer towards you, leaning forward until you’re practically sharing the same breaths. Unconsciously, you’re drawn into him, hands braced gently on his chest as you chase after him. 

“What are you doing?” Your whispered words brush against his lips and he gives you a small smile. His hands travel up your waist. He tugs you closer, his other hand looping around your neck and craning you up. 

“I’m gonna choose you every fucking time, kid.” His lips brush across your own and it’s like a switch is flipped in you both. Your arms twine around his neck, pulling him down until you’re practically melting into him. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so different at the same time. You always thought your first kiss would be after some cheesy first date. He would have taken you out to dinner. Something would have inevitably gone wrong, you spilled something on your dress or the waiter brought the wrong order. 

You would both worry that it was a sign that nothing would work out between you. And then, at the end of the night, he’d tug you into his arms and kiss you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. 

That would be nice, but this is better. He’s not holding you like you’re something fragile or something too precious for this world. He’s kissing you like you’re the very air he needs to survive. He’s greedy with his affections and demanding with his wants. 

You’re being consumed and devoured. And you never want to stop. This is all you’ve ever wanted with him, from him. 

Sadly, you do have to breathe. You’re the one that forces the stop, you’re sure he would have happily suffocated if it meant he could keep touching you like this. You pull back, the air coming in short pants between your parted lips. 

You can already feel them swelling, the slight irritation on your cheeks from his stubble. You don’t mind, you quite like the feeling. He speaks before you can, a pleased smile on his face. “Forgive me yet?”

You chuckle, a little impressed by how cheeky he is, still slightly pissed off. “Why don’t you do that again and I’ll think about it?”

He rolls his eyes but you can see the smile fighting against his firm glare. “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?”

You smile and nod, leaning into him again. “You’re never gonna hear the end of it,” you whisper before dipping down and kissing him again. You can’t believe you ever doubted just how much he cares for you. 

He didn’t choose Jean over you. He’s just a dumbass. 

a/n: I had to resist putting in a “pick me, choose me, love me” line in there bc that would have just been too much lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl ♡ 

[nereidprinc3ss]

you know the killer doesn't understand

in which spencer is so terrified he's going to hurt you after he gets out of prison that he can barely touch you. an argument ensues.

angst (+ comfort) warnings/tags: established relationship, fem!reader, mentions of violent intrusive thoughts (non-specific), arguing, yelling, use of the word rape, nightmares, happyish ending, mention of showering together, it's a bad time but it's also a good time for us woo i love angsty angst a/n: i miss posting for real so bad i dug up this draft which was mostly finished and polished it up. i think i really like this one and it was based on a request but i lost it:( i hope u guys enjoy this, pls lmk<3

Spencer is by no means happy with his sudden fear of touching you—it makes everything in his life significantly harder and less convenient and he hates that he’s constantly afraid he’s going to break you. He hates watching you hold back from attacking him with a hug when he enters a room like you used to, and he feels terrible every time you ball up on the opposite side of the couch as he reads, waiting for an invitation into his lap but too scared to ask for one (he’ll always hold out his arm for you, though—he’s not cruel.)

You’re adorable in the way you stand at the foot of the bed in your pajamas, arms behind your back like it’s not your bed too, but it makes him feel terrible. This isn’t at all what he wanted for you, and in all honestly he’s thought about ending the relationship because he knows he’s being an absolutely awful partner—but he just can’t bring himself to. Instead, he gestures for you to get into bed, and you curl up under the covers close to him but not against him, and he’ll play with your hair and read for a while because he can’t sleep very well. Eventually he’ll assume the position of sleep, but some sick part of him doesn’t know what to do with the sounds of the city and the fan instead of the sounds of a hundred men rolling and sniffing and shuffling around their echoey cells. He doesn’t understand warmth anymore, or softness, or nice pajamas or fluffy pillows. He’s starting to think he doesn’t understand you. And that’s the worst thought of all. 

So he essentially dozes for the first week, on and off, always exhausted in the mornings but what’s new. When he can’t sleep, he turns his head to watch you breathe—some beautiful, sweet creature dreaming in his bed, unwaveringly loyal to him even though he can hardly stand to touch you for fuck’s sake. You’re beautiful, and it makes him feel better to watch you, even if he can’t touch you. Not now that he knows what he is capable of doing to another person. What if he has some sort of PTSD—PTSS, thank you, Luke Alvez—induced dream and does something terrible to you in his sleep? It’s not like you’re tiny, but he’s stronger, he knows he is, and lately every time you get too close he remembers exactly what it feels like to exert the full force of that strength, and what it feels like when someone else unleashes their own onto him. 

They’re just intrusive thoughts, and in them he doesn’t hurt you intentionally, but he always feels a little bit sick now. He is so, so sick. A bull in a China shop. Spencer knows exactly how breakable humans are—it’s his job to know. If he left so much as one red mark on you by accident, he’s quite sure he’d drill down to a previously unknown rock bottom. And if he reaches that point, he doesn’t know if he’d ever deserve to come back. 

Every day it seems to become clearer that the only humane thing to do is break up with you. But for now he’ll watch you sleep—the delicate rising and falling of your chest, the way you curl in on yourself because you can’t curl into him. In sleep you look so peaceful and content. You never look that way awake, anymore. Not when he’s around, which is pretty much always. At least he can’t disappoint you while you’re asleep. 

Or so he’d like to think. 

Until one night, about a week and a half after he gets home; you whimper in your sleep. It’s so quiet he could’ve missed it, but he doesn’t, and then he watches your smooth brow furrow with worry and he knows you’re having a nightmare immediately. 

Spencer panics—before, he would have woken you up and held you and comforted you until you fell back asleep and it would have been so simple. Now he’s frozen, afraid to touch you but not sure if he can just lie there watching you so afraid and not do a thing about it. 

In the end, you choose for him—and it only takes a few moments. You’re close enough to him that it’s easy for you to close the few inches even in sleep, and maybe you’re slightly conscious but not enough to remember you’re not supposed to touch him. 

He stops breathing as you fold yourself against him, muttering worried nonsense—he catches his name, once—nestling against his chest, one searching arm gently draping over his waist. Every muscle in his body is rigid, and his thoughts—his mind goes… completely fucking blank. 

Suddenly, all he’s known, all he’s ever known, is the smell of your hair, the warmth of you seeping through layers of clothing, and the weight of your arm over him. Everything he ever was ceases to exist, and he’s just this, right now. The person you’d turned to unconsciously for comfort, so sure, so trusting that he would keep you safe. He can feel your breath for the first time in months. Slowly every tense muscle unspools. For the first time in a long time he doesn’t feel dangerous. He doesn’t feel like his entire body is spring loaded and ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Spencer allows himself to hold you, and part of it feels like betrayal because he knows how badly you need this from him while you’re awake but mostly he feels like he could cry. His thumb rubs circles into the middle of your back and your head tucks so perfectly under his chin while he studies the rumpled sheets where you’d been lying a moment ago. He almost feels like sticking his tongue out to gloat at your half of the mattress—haha, look who gets to hold her now—but instead he sighs, shakily, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

You don’t make another sound for hours. 

He’s reluctant to let you go when you begin to stir around six AM, but forcibly holding onto you is so far from what he wants to do that he manages. You roll back over to your own side of the bed, and he continues admiring you from afar until he falls asleep. It’s the best three hours of sleep he’s had in a very long time. 

Of course, you don’t remember it. When you wake up your sadness resumes, and so does the pretending like you’re not sad, but you’re a very good sport—and it helps that he’s feeling much better this morning than he has since he got back. 

“Good morning,” you whisper faintly, still blinking as you watch him longingly from your spot. 

Spencer pushes himself up onto an elbow, and you watch with big eyes as he leans over you, stroking your cheek with his free hand. 

“Good morning. You sleep okay?”

Your brow flickers, and he realizes it’s not a question he asks every morning, and you’re probably distracted by this overt display of affection, but you answer it obediently anyway. 

“I think so. I had weird dreams.”

He hums. 

“About what?”

It’s quiet for a moment as he takes in the exact spattering of microscopically fractured pigment over your irises. Your voice is small when you finally speak. 

“Do I have to tell you?”

That hurts. 

“No. But it might help.”

Coming from him? Ironic doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

You acknowledge him with a small hum of your own, studying him with soft, mistrustful eyes. 

He can’t help it anymore—Spencer leans down and gently kisses you, so tenderly, so chastely, it makes his own head spin. He hasn’t kissed you like that since you picked him up from Milburn. It’s long overdue. 

Which is why he’s not expecting you to start crying. He pulls back immediately, not far, just enough to assess your expression. 

“What’s this? What’s wrong, angel?” He frowns. Your lip quivers in a way that feels like a blow to the chest. 

“That’s not… you’re…”

“What? What is it?”

A fat tear finally traces a path down your cheek and when you speak your voice breaks in the most fragile, devastating way. 

“You’re not being fair.”

He has no neat question to summarize all the bafflement your accusation inspires in his lately cloudy head, but the wildly confused look on his face must be prompt enough.

“I’m trying really hard to respect your space and boundaries and not upset you but my feelings are hurt, Spencer, I don’t know how they couldn’t be. I feel like you don’t even like me anymore. I’m embarrassed around you because I feel like I care about you so much more than you care about me. And then you—and then you wake up one morning and you think it’s okay to act like you love me again but I can’t—I c—” you stop, obviously frustrated—now crying in earnest and lacking the words. “You can’t be mean to me. I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry but you can’t treat me like that. I’m a person, too.”

His chest aches and he swallows down barbed wire.

“I’m not acting like I love you. I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life. That’s not an act.”

It’s not an adequate response, but your words are still spinning in his head until he can’t keep up with them. He’s not used to this, anymore. The language you two had developed is so foreign now. 

Maybe he just doesn’t know how to talk to you. 

Resignation—a too-calm recognition softens the stormy look that has brewed on your face. As soon as it’s gone, and you’re looking at him placidly, he realizes he’s afraid. 

“Well, that’s not enough,” you whisper. 

Spencer feels like he’s been shot as you push the covers aside and slip out of bed. And he knows what that feels like. 

“Where are you going?” And then louder, when you don’t hear him because you’ve already left the room, “Where are you going?”

He follows you through the apartment as you march purposefully for the door, slipping shoes on and grabbing your keys and coat. 

You barely look over your shoulder as you leave, slamming the front door behind you. Things shake from the impact. A mini earthquake. 

Spencer is too stunned to follow you. 

It’s not until a few minutes later when he goes to call you that he realizes your phone is still sitting on your bedside table. He stares at it, tasting metal, because he has absolutely no way to reach you or guarantee your safety. There’s no way for you to call him, or anyone, if you get in trouble—and he fears that you’ll retaliate against him by doing something stupid and dangerous. 

He only just manages to stop himself from calling the police and asking them to start looking for you. Only just recognizes it to be an overreaction. 

Besides, he’s not feeling particularly fond of the criminal justice institution these days. If it came down to it, he’d trust himself and his team over the cops any day.

The team. They’re always a resource. If worst comes to worst, he thinks, robotically making coffee as he tries to talk himself down, and she doesn’t come home before dark, I’ll call all of her closest friends. If she doesn’t come home before the morning—the thought makes him feel sick—I’ll deploy every fucking resource at my disposal. 

Maybe that’s an overreaction, too, but he has to find a way to self-soothe somehow. Planning makes him feel better. Being prepared for the things you never see coming makes him feel better. It’s impossible, of course—but the illusion of control is stubborn and so seductive. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that. 

At around 2 PM, he receives a couple of texts from Garcia that are a massive relief. 

Penelope: She’s at my apartment

Penelope: BE NICER TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!

The series of emojis that follow (including an octopus?), he doesn’t even try to decipher. He simply drops his phone and sighs deeply into his hands, releasing an extreme amount of paranoid tension that had been tying him into knots. Lately, he’s had this sense that everything is fleeting—that the things he takes for granted are painfully, violently impermanent. It doesn’t take anyone with a degree to figure out why he’s been feeling that way, but it’s so all-consuming he’s not sure how to cope with it. Just a few days ago, he’d been wondering how to break up with you. Now he’s asking himself how the fuck he thought he’d be able to do that when he’s barely functioning after a few hours without you.

It’s a question he still hasn’t answered by the time the front door opens at 10 PM. It’s clear by the deer-in-headlights look on your face that you hadn’t been expecting him like this—leaning over the counter, half-empty mug by his hand, staring at nothing in particular and waiting for you to come home. Neither of you have changed clothing since this morning—not that you could—but you look apprehensive as you close it behind you, never facing away from him. The whole thing is like a teenager being caught sneaking back in by a weary parent. 

For a moment the silent confrontation stretches into the horizon, a non-specific point as neither of you seem inclined to be the first to talk. You just watch him watching you—leaning against the door rigidly as if you can’t get far enough away. But he’s too tired for this. Too worn out. 

“How’d you get home?”

You swallow. 

“Penelope.”

Spencer nods slowly, rolling his bottom lip between teeth and finally looking away. 

“You really should have brought your phone.”

You scoff, peeling yourself from the door. 

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s the same situation as this morning, but in reverse—him following after you down the hall as you storm toward the bedroom. 

“Wh—should I not have been? You scared me—” he says your name, barely catching the door before it can slam in his face. “I was worried about you.”

“Why?” you face him, laughing bewilderedly as if the situation were at all funny. A kind of manic energy crackles from the surface of your skin and in your eyes that renders him unable to think of a reply. “Because you thought I would get raped and murdered and then you’d be sad?”

“Yes!” Spencer yells, eyes widening as he fails to contain his frustration any longer. “That is fucking exactly why I was scared!”

You step forward, getting in his space. It jars him, momentarily—he wants to get away from you. Being angry and so close to you is terrifying. What if he lashes out? What if he hurts you? He’s seen crimes of passion. His blood is freezing in his veins. 

“Of course you didn’t give one single fuck that I left you. You didn’t think for one fucking second that I might be tired of this. That wasn’t what you were scared of at all.” For every inch you near, he backs away. Another scorned, bitter laugh from you that feels like poison coursing through his entire circulatory system. You notice everything, eyeing him up and down as he cowers from you. “What is this, Spencer? If you hate being near me that much, just fucking break up with me.”

You’re close enough that he can see the tears welling in your eyes, but he’d know they were there even if he couldn’t observe them. He would hear it in your voice. He would feel it. But he can’t do anything about it. Right now, he’s paralyzed. 

“If the only thing holding you back is wanting to spare my feelings, just fucking do it. This isn’t better. I don’t give a fuck if it’s hard for you. It’s hard for me, too, but I’m not just going to ignore it anymore.”

There’s no more room. The wall is at is back. 

“Honey, please back up,” Spencer breathes. Last time his back was to a wall, he’d been gagged and beaten. Don’t lash out. She never hurt you. It wasn’t her. 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” you shout, as tears begin to spill over your cheeks. “Either break up with me or stop telling me to go away!”

At that moment, as you break down and your words become muddled with sobs, you raise your fist. 

Spencer watches it approach his shoulder as if in slow-motion. 

On instinct, he catches your wrist.

There’s a lull as he waits for something to explode, for something to go terribly, deeply wrong—

But it doesn’t. 

He realizes his grip is gentle. He realizes you’d never actually hurt him like that. He realizes how little resistance he’d found when he stopped what was sure to be nothing more than a petulant, petty bump against his shoulder—a maneuver that wouldn’t have hurt in the slightest. It was nothing more than a desolate, childlike display of feelings bigger than you know what to do with. 

In the second that it takes him to realize all of this, to realize he is not endangering you in the slightest, nor you him, you’ve begun to truly sob. Standing just inches from him, head angled down as he holds your wrist carefully, you are the picture of a girl who has been running on empty for a very long time and has nothing left to give. Spencer twines his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin and slowly rubbing your back like he’d never forgotten how to hold you. It stuns you, and the tears pause for just a second—before you’re wrapping desperate, weakened arms around him and sobbing even harder, albeit silently, into his shirt. 

“I don’t want to break up,” he whispers, his own voice shaky with understated emotion. “I’m sorry. Please don’t say that. I don’t want that.”

“What’s wrong with you?” You cry, a desperate plead caught between sobs that wrack your body against his against the wall. And he knows it’s not an accusation. It’s not an insult. It’s a question borne of confusion and fear. It’s what a child might ask a sick dog while tears stream down feverish cheeks. And it’s completely appropriate, considering he never tells you anything anymore and he’s only just realizing how scary that must be. Spencer is back from prison but you may as well still be living alone for all that you know about him. He tangles a hand in your hair and holds you against his chest, breathing you like nitrous oxide. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers. The room beyond blurs as he stares at nothing, focused only on the tingly euphoria of feeling you under his hands clashing with the ever-present and crushing shame that he couldn't do it sooner. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you—to be sorry.” Shuddering breaths and gasps still cleave your sentences in half, and Spencer listens so intently he thinks there might be harmonics hidden in the layers of your voice. He clings to every syllable like you’re wielding the word of god in a five-foot-something body. “I just miss you so m—much. I want you to—to love me.”

“I do,” he promises immediately, lips pressing to your ear. “I do love you. So much. So much.”

When you don’t respond, he’s not exactly surprised. He almost asks what he can do, what you need—but is quite sure that’s not the right move. Instead he doesn’t say a thing. Only holds you.

Later, you’ll pull back and he’ll swim in your teary gaze, and then kiss you. He’ll trace silent apologies into every inch of your skin under the torrent of the shower, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make you understand. But for now, for the first time in months, you’re holding each other, and that’s all either of you need.  

[yuujispinkhair]

Sukuna’s the type of baby daddy that even if you break you never really broke up 😭 and if you got pregnant again there no chance in hell it could be anyone else’s kid besides his

The love you and Sukuna have is world-changing. Even after you break up, you are both still stuck on the other and unable to move on.

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Hurt + comfort, fluff, mentions of smut Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+, mentions of smut but nothing explicit. Reader and Sukuna break up, but they get back together at the end of the story. There is a happy end. They already have a daughter together, and another pregnancy is mentioned at the end. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

It's not that you aren't trying to get over Sukuna. You really do. After a week of crying your eyes out, you decide to go out. It's not even that hard to get chatted up by some guy at a bar. But when his hand lands on your knee, you practically bolt. It feels so wrong, so dirty somehow. As if your body is still Sukuna's territory and no one else is worthy of touching you.

You try again a week later and the week after, too. But none of the men you meet spark your interest. Maybe this shouldn't come as a surprise. After all, only a few weeks ago, you had Sukuna. You had the best. There simply is no one who can compare to him. No one will ever make you feel the way Sukuna did.

You regret the breakup. It was stupid. Just small things that accumulated over several weeks, combined with a bad day at work and Sukuna being grumpy when you got home. You could have handled it differently.

But now, your bed always feels cold, and your heart doesn't seem to be in your chest anymore. Instead, there is a stone in your chest, heavy and painful, while your heart is in another part of this city, in the hands of the man who will always be the one for you, even if you will never get back together with him again.

+++

Sukuna asks to see his child, but you feel unable to face him, so you cowardly text him back, telling him to just pick your daughter up from kindergarten and spend the afternoon with her. When Sukuna brings her home in the evening, you are relieved that he seems to have gotten the hint. He doesn't come inside but waits at the front door as your daughter runs up the stairs to your apartment.

But you aren't strong enough not to hurry to the large window that faces the street, gazing outside to see Sukuna's familiar tall, broad figure slowly stroll down the street toward his car. His pink hair looks just like the cherry blossoms that fall down onto the road like pretty, pink snowflakes.

You know you will never be able to look at cherry trees again without feeling sadness wash over you.

Maybe you will try going on another date with some new guy, but deep down, you know that it will be in vain. It will always feel wrong. It will always feel like something is missing. Because none of those men are Sukuna. No one can be like him. There is only one Sukuna. Everyone else will always just be second best.

Sukuna isn't even trying to get over you. Not anymore.

On the first night after your breakup, he was a mess and stormed off to some bar, desperate for a distraction. Anything that would keep him from getting overwhelmed by his feelings.

He had some drinks and flirted with a random girl. Even took her home, thinking that sex would help him feel better. But the moment she tried to unbutton his shirt, Sukuna grabbed her wrists and stopped her.

It felt wrong. He felt wrong. As if he was cheating on you. He told the girl to leave and watched with his arms crossed as she angrily slammed his door shut before Sukuna sank down on his couch and buried his face in his hands.

He knew right then and there that it was no use to go out and try to have hookups. It wouldn't work, and it sure as hell would only make him feel worse.

In the following weeks, Sukuna worked longer and spent more time at the gym, always trying to stay busy because as soon as he got home to his deadly silent apartment, he was drowning in thoughts about you. Drowning in all those happy memories the two of you had made over the years.

You were Sukuna's love, his heart, his everything. He hadn't known or understood love until he met you. So how is he supposed to ever get over you and move on? It's impossible. You are still his everything, and you will always be.

And so it's clear as day to Sukuna that he won't even try to move on. He knows he will always be yours, whether you are together or not. He was only able to give his heart away once. And even if you don't want it anymore, it still belongs to you.

+++

Sukuna spends two days every week with his daughter, happy to see his little girl but sad because he misses the time when all three of you did things together. And when she looks at him with your eyes and asks him, "Daddy, why don't you just come home again?" Sukuna feels his heart shatter into a million pieces.

Sukuna doesn't know what to tell her. He, too, can't understand why the two of you decided to break up. It was stupid. Nothing big caused it. Just small things that added up, and looking back they seem insignificant.

"I don't know, princess. Maybe Daddy should really go home and talk to Mommy."

He decides at that moment that he will get roses and come up to your door this evening.

+++

Sukuna's chest feels painfully tight when you open the door, and he sees your face again after all those weeks, hitting him with just how much he missed you.

He hands you the roses, a beautiful huge bouquet that cost a little fortune, his eyes gazing deeply into yours,

"Please take those flowers. They come without any obligation to take me back or even talk to me. But I want to give them to you because you are still the mother of my child. And... and you will always be my woman, just like I will always be your man, even if we aren't together."

He fears he sounds like a creep, that he overstepped a boundary, and that he made you uncomfortable. But he has had lots of time to think during the last few weeks, and he promised himself that he would be more open about his feelings if he ever gets a chance to talk to you again.

You stare at Sukuna for a moment that feels like hours to him. But then he sees the tears gathering in your eyes and sees the way your hand that's holding the flowers is trembling. You breathe a soft "Kuna..." and Sukuna knows. He knows that you are still his, just like he is still yours.

He pulls you into his arms a split second later, crushing the beautiful roses between your bodies as he hugs you tightly. And you melt so perfectly against him as if you are made for him. Your face is pressed against his broad chest, and you snuggle against him, every centimeter of you touching him. You cling to him so tightly that it's almost painful, but it's the first time since your breakup that Sukuna feels like he can breathe again.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry for everything."

You both speak the words at the same time, eyes locked, small relieved smiles playing around your mouths.

You tell Sukuna to stay for dinner, and he agrees. He takes over the kitchen again, his kitchen, and prepares a dinner that he knows his two girls always loved. He sits at your table again, jokes around with his little daughter, and basks in the way you look at him with your eyes full of happiness.

Sukuna doesn't just stay for dinner but stays the whole night.

He kisses you after the two of you bring your daughter to bed. Pushes you gently against the wall and claims your lips again, though deep down, he knows that those lips always belonged to him, even when you were apart.

He grins when you laugh when he picks you up and carries you princess-style to the bedroom. Your lips are on his again, kissing him as if you can't get enough of him, making it hard to walk, but Sukuna would find his way to your bedroom even blind.

He locks the door behind you, turning around only to find your hands on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt while your lips find his again in another passionate but tender kiss that makes Sukuna moan softly into your mouth.

He makes slow love to you in the bed you bought together all those years ago, showing you what it feels like to be loved and desired and cherished endlessly. And you wrap your arms and legs around him and meet each of his slow thrusts while you moan his name softly, and tears run down your cheeks, showing Sukuna the same love he is showing you.

Sukuna doesn't leave again after that night.

The two of you talk things out, and only a week later, Sukuna finally puts a ring on your finger and tells your little daughter that she needs to pick a pretty dress because she will be a flower girl at the wedding.

And only a month later, you place a positive pregnancy test on Sukuna's pillow, making both of you burst out laughing when you realize that you and Sukuna must have made another baby that first night when he came back and brought you the roses.

Thank you so much for the ask! It made me feel so many things, so I had to get these feelings out and write this little story 😭 I hope you enjoyed it and that it made you emotional, too. How could there ever be anyone else after Sukuna? It's really not possible 😭

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Virgin! Jason Todd

Virgin! Jason Todd who is absolutely whipped as soon as he meets you. Im talking stuttering, fumbling over himself, even a slight blush, dare I say. He just doesn't know what to do with himself in the presence of somebody so blessed with a goddess' beauty.

Virgin! Jason Todd who tries to act tough anyway (because, in all honesty, he is literally a murderer and not just some soft guy anymore.) And fails horribly. Its endearing to see him try, though... With those strong arms that could either snap you in half within moments or hold you throughout the night.

Virgin! Jason Todd who's constantly needy for you, both in an intimate sense and just for affection in general. In fact, you don't think that there's ever an extended period of time where his hands aren't on you in one way or another.

Virgin! Jason Todd who's so into dry humping that it's an every other days occurance. Laying down on the couch or bed cuddling? His hard dick is pressing right up against your clit through both his and your shorts. Doing yoga because your back is sore from work or cooking dinner when he gets home late? He's lightly thrusting onto your plump ass as soon as he gets his hands on you.

Virgin! Jason Todd who initiates things himself for the first time, starting with you simply sitting on his lap while watching a movie. Then, slowly, he starts kissing down your neck with warm lips and even warmer breaths while moving you to straddle his thighs. You can already feel him getting a bit hard from this alone.

Virgin! Jason Todd who gets so into the light kisses he oh so graciously presses against your lips that they end up turning into a heavy make out session. His tongue and yours are tangling together in such a sinful and addicting way that its hard to get enough.

Virgin! Jason Todd who slowly grasps at your hips to grind you at a torturous pace on his toned thigh. The slight amount of friction is divine after getting so worked up over a few kisses, but it's not long until you're humping his thigh like a bitch in heat as you normally do.

Virgin! Jason Todd who's never been afraid to eat you out, and he'll be damned if he doesn't tonight, too. You are his favorite meal, snack, and dessert, after all.

"Come on, gorgeous... You know the drill." He whispers in that deep, gravelly voice from between your legs as you close them, desperately wanting to do something for him in return. "Nuh uh... Let me eat that pretty pussy of yours before anything else, sweetness." And eat he does.

Virgin! Jason Todd who gets off on your pleasure. Every time you moan or squirm yourself closer to his face as he laps at your aching hole and bundle of nerves, he grinds himself right into the mattress or side of the couch.

Virgin! Jason Todd who wants you to ride him for your first time together so he can bury his face into your chest and hold you as close as possible. And because he's scared of going at a pace that you won't like, but after how many orgasms he's pulled out of you just by giving you head, you're sure you wouldn't mind whatever makes him happy.

Virgin! Jason Todd who has to actually stop himself from blowing his load just as you put his girthy tip in. He just cant help it... Your tight, warm, and soaked walls fluttering around him is just too heavenly.

"Fuck... Stay right there, sweetheart. Right there. Please." His voice is strained with his effort and slightly muffled as he buries his face into your chest.

Virgin! Jason Todd who is in pure bliss as soon as you start moving, even at such a slow pace to begin with while your creamy walls get used to the stretch of his beautiful, leaking cock.

Virgin! Jason Todd who never realized how much of a moaner he was until he got to have his first time with you. Sure, he's gotten himself off humping your ass or the mattress while he ate you out, but this was on a whole other level.

"Fuckkk..." His head is thrown back against the pillows or headrest of the couch as his hands grasp your ever moving hips. "Can't take much more of this, pretty girl." Jason is almost whining at this point, the sound of his skin slapping against yours joining the obscene sounds in the air of his apartment. "Gonna.. Im gonna-"

Virgin! Jason Todd who cuts himself off with such a gorgeous moan and whine as he cums that it has you going right alongside him. The large, calloused hands on your hips only tighten as you feel his cock fill you up with thick, warm, pearly ropes of cum.

Virgin! Jason Todd who can only whisper praises and words of love for the first couple of minutes coming down from his intense high.

"Fuck... Fucking love you, y'know that?" His chest is still heaving with every panting breath he takes. "Milking me dry with that pretty pussy..."

Virgin! Jason Todd who makes aftercare a top priority very early on, even though he's just barely gaining his own bearings.

"I love you, pretty girl... So much." He presses kisses along your sore and achy thighs as the cool, damp washcloth brushes over your most sensitive and overstimulated parts.

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

Masterlist

[suiana]

I'm thinking about a yandere! secretary who's an absolutely manipulative piece of shit❤️

you hired him because his resume was impeccable and you thought he'd be a perfect fit for the empty position.

which... he is.

but the fact that he's younger than you by a decent amount and can be quite unprofessional at times does throw you off. is it something younger people like doing? is it normal to visit your employee's house with no one else around?

"hey boss, I'm thinking of inviting you over to my place tonight? just the two of us? we can drink and eat fried chicken together❤️"

"my dear, that is rather unprofessional don't you think?"

"what? no of course not. you're thinking into it too much."

it doesn't help that you're sort of a people pleaser and give into his demands easily.

you just want to see all your employees be happy! is that so wrong of you? of course not! and all your other employees (excluding your secretary) all appreciate and treat you with respect. and as you know by now, your secretary is an asshole who makes use of your easily swayed personality to get you to do... things in his favour.

but you don't know that! you just think it's because of the age gap that causes you not to understand his actions and words! surely he's not trying to love you right?

"boss~ don't you think i should meet your family? your parents? you met mine the other day didn't you? oh my parents absolutely loved you! they thought you were so sweet and-"

"w-well... that's only because you got a raise and you suggested i should inform your family about how well you were performing during work... there's no reason for you to meet my-"

"boss, be serious. do you hate me?"

"no of course not! i-"

"that's settled then! we can go and meet your family after this!"

"...yes, my dear."

with that said, he's also an excellent actor and knows how to play things to his advantage. by the time you realize what's going on, you'll already be trapped in the palm of his hand.

"my dear... i am so sorry. we shouldn't have slept together, nor gotten together. it was a severe lapse in judgement and I'm sorry that i crossed the line between personal and professionalism."

"what are you talking about darling? don't worry your silly head over all that. professionalism? who needs that? all the other employees think we look great together, and your family loves me! plus, I'm your boyfriend that you love, yes?"

"i-"

"now stop speaking about stupid things. you don't have to worry about that anymore. just listen to me. it's normal to date your secretary. it's what the younger people are doing nowadays! I'm already 26! so don't worry..."

and it's not like you can just fire him either. like i said, he does an excellent job at being your secretary. also the fact that he practically controls HR and influences them into thinking every other potential employee is subpar. so when you hold a meeting about whether to fire him everyone protests against it. but that's not important.

besides, he won't let you do that. why would you want to get rid of him? you only need him don't you? he's perfect for this job! you don't need another secretary. you don't need anyone else.

just him. only him.

and you two will be happy together as long as you listen to his words and don't try getting rid of him. after all, you might be older but times are changing! you need the hand of a younger and more knowledgeable person. he'll help you bring the company to greater heights and bring in more revenue for you!

so stop talking about how it's wrong. it's not. it's the way of the new generation! and he just.. loves you very much. way too much.

[idolomantises]

Wasn't sure when it would be the best time to discuss this, but since the ending is drawing near... yes, Bugtopia is ending.

It was a decision I really wrestled with myself for months over it, before finally concluding that letting it end after 40 episodes was the better option. Just to be clear, webtoons did not force me to end the series. They even offered to give me a pay raise to continue the series. It was my decision due to a multitude of personal factors. I'll just repeat what I said on my patreon:

I just want to say, first of all, thank you all so much for patiently waiting for my series to release and for supporting my work as I began developing the series. Bugtopia was a series I genuinely loved and adored and it made me feel so incredibly happy that people were turning their heads towards a series about weird bugs and their natural lives.

However, as you can probably guess, it pains me to say that I am concluding the series after season 1. I had 4 seasons planned with new characters to introduce, but unfortunately, I cannot see myself continuing to work with Webtoons and I want to pursue other projects.

This decision was due to a compiling number of issues with the company, the final straw was when they had a mass layoff, fired my editor that I've been working with for two years, and did not inform me for a week, leaving me in the dark until they randomly assigned me with someone else. My new editor is great and I'm glad I'm working with someone so patient and understanding, but this decision to fire my previous editor, the one who got me the job to begin with, without prior warning made me feel disrespected and disregarded, and it killed all motivation I had for properly completing the series.

I also felt incredibly overworked, I was spending vacation days working on comics and avoiding time with family just so I could get something done for webtoons once I come home. I feel like so much time was being wasted away for a company that paid me so little that I had to work twice as hard building up funds on my patreon. Bugtopia just ate up so much of my time. The pay also didn't make up for it. It's commonly assumed that webtoons authors make about $800 for the episodes they do, but that's not true. In fact, you can make far less depending on the amount of panels expected for your contract. It doesn't help that the artwork i did for banners and promotions were all things I had to draw and didn't get paid for, and the work I gave was either tampered with or scrapped, making me feel like I spent more hours of my day wasting time. There were also comics I had to censor and scrap, likely due to another series being in hot water for its racially insensitive content. But it was just extra work I wasn't being paid for. It also frustrated me because I was seeing other series with far more explicit content getting away with a slap on the wrist (turns out you can't say "fuck" anymore without it being hit with a mature rating, disappointing!)

In all honesty, it just felt like webtoons needed me more than I needed them. I was making more money from patreon in a week than I was making from webtoons in a month.

Personally, while I don't really regret my time with Webtoons and met some great people along the way, I honestly don't think any artist should work with them. You will be severely overworked and underpaid, and will barely be featured in ads unless your series becomes an instant hit immediately. It doesn't really matter how successful you are, you're just a product to Webtoons, put yourself above the corporation.

I have tried my best to provide you all with a satisfying conclusion to Bugtopia, even if some episodes may feel rushed or incomplete, but I completely understand if the conclusion isn't to your liking and I do apologize, but I could not continue working on this series if this was the mistreatment I was going to continuously get. I owe a massive thank you to my editor and assistants for helping me complete the series, I truly don't think I could have ever finished it without them.

Though I am done with Bugtopia, that does not mean I want to stop projects entirely, so please don't feel bad for me. I have a lot of upcoming projects and ideas in the works, and I'm still continuing the Monsters and Girls series.

Will Bugtopia ever return... possibly. I retain complete ownership of the series after a few years, and I wouldn't mind continuing the canvas series (or possibly starting over). Unfortunately I don't think I can continue the Webtoon Original as it belongs to webtoons now, but never say never I suppose!

[dyns33]

Symbiosis

I missed Eddie x reader with silly Venom being in the way. Can't wait to see what they'll do in the next movie.

From the beginning of their relationship, Y/N had noticed that there was something different with Eddie.

She might have thought that it was because he was somewhat famous that he behaved eccentrically, sometimes talking to himself and seeming very agitated for no reason.

Without ever really bringing up these oddities, Eddie had been very honest with her about a lot of things. His childhood, his dreams, his ex-girlfriend, the loss of his job before becoming a journalism star again, his little problems with cleanliness.

"I mean, I'm a very clean person… Normally. All the time ! I wash twice a day, I take care of my teeth, I don't like living in filth but... Sometimes I'm not at home for a long time, and I'm totally focused on my job, and the stress… So, if I can seem a little dirty and messy, I'm sorry, I will never ask you to clean up for me and you can tell me that I stink by patting me on the back of the head. Yes, on the back of the head, I deserve it." Eddie muttered at the end of his sentence, looking to the side as if he were talking to someone else.

"I don't think you're dirty. You sweat a little sometimes, but that's natural."

“You’re saying that because you haven’t seen my apartment yet.”

“Does that mean you want to invite me to your apartment ?” Y/N asked, smiling shyly.

"Of course ! No, you don't… Of course, Y/N, I've been wanting to for a long time."

The presence of chickens was a little surprising, and it was true that the apartment was not in very good condition, but it was a bit like her idea of a bachelor pad, and it was quite reassuring to think that Eddie didn't often bring women home.

It meant something important to him, a sign of trust.

But that certainly wasn't the greatest evidence. No, this evidence took a little longer to emerge from the shadows, or from Eddie's shoulder, after a month of relationship.

Precisely the day he couldn't hold back the first "I love you."

The spontaneous, charming statement came in the middle of the small talk, and Y/N felt very happy, ready to respond that she loved him too.

It was then that the thing appeared between them, looking furious, showing its large teeth.

"No ! Eddie, no, you can't do that !"

“Oh, God, what is that ?!”

"Vee ! Vee, you promised me, man ! You're going to scare her ! And you have no right to interfere in my love affairs, go back inside ! Y/N, sorry, I'm really sorry, I’ll explain !”

“I have the right to give my opinion !” the creature replied, turning to Eddie. "You're ashamed of me, of us ! Anne accepted us ! Anne likes us ! If your new little darling doesn't accept us, then she's not good enough !"

“Anne didn’t really have a choice and we weren’t together anymore, stop talking about her all the time !”

After more or less managing to calm down the "non-parasite" that lived inside him, Eddie did his best to calm down Y/N, who was totally freaked out by what had just happened. He explained to her that Venom was an alien, a symbiote, who needed him to survive, who had helped him on numerous occasions, and who was not dangerous.

"I'm very dangerous ! I'm the lethal protector !"

"What does he mean ?"

"Nothing ! Well, he likes to fight crime, he's dangerous to the bad guys. You have absolutely nothing to fear, I promise. I… I'm so sorry."

Eddie then began to sob, despite all the comfort that Vee tried to give him by telling him that only losers cried like children and that he was pathetic to moan like that, putting them to serious shame.

Even though she was still scared, Y/N couldn't help but hug her boyfriend, trying her best not to touch the alien. She repeated to him that everything was fine, that it wasn't his fault, and that even though this situation was strange, she still wanted to be with him.

This seemed to reassure him, and make him very happy.

Unfortunately, there were three of them in this relationship, and Venom clearly didn't want to be with Y/N at all.

It was him that Eddie had been mumbling to since they met, often arguing about her, as the alien kept comparing her to Anne, his ex girlfriend.

Without any sign of lying in his eyes, he promised her that he hadn't been in love with her for a long time. Their breakup had been difficult, but she had found someone very quickly, Dan, a great guy, and they were married now, and Eddie was very happy for them.

Well, that wasn't easy to believe with Venom growling and hitting his host's head at the end of every sentence, insulting Dan and repeating how great Anne was.

But Eddie seemed really honest. He was friends with his ex, nothing more, and he wanted to be with Y/N now, even if his idiot parasite didn't agree.

He wasn't an optimist by nature, too much had happened to him in life for him to believe in miracles, but Eddie wanted to believe that Vee would come to appreciate her.

He was quite confident as Y/N was doing her best with the symbiote, trying to talk to him, offering him chocolate, keeping an open mind. Many people would have fled the moment they saw this thing coming out of his body. It was quite a good sign.

But like a wild animal, Venom refused to be coaxed. He wanted Anne, Anne was perfect. Nothing would change his mind. Nothing.

"He hates me." Y/N whispered sadly, even though she knew it was useless, because Venom was always with Eddie, even when she couldn't see him. None of their conversation was private.

"Hate is a strong word… He's stubborn, he believes he's right. It's not really against you. If I had always been single, I think he would adore you."

Eddie thought it would be a good idea to introduce her to Anne. In a sense he was right, because it was evident that there was no longer any romantic feeling between them, and that she was very much in love with her husband.

But Y/N couldn't help but do like Venom, and compare herself to the other woman. Beautiful, intelligent, great lawyer with a strong character. It seemed natural to fall for her.

If he sensed her discomfort, the journalist said nothing, spending the evening laughing with the other couple only keeping his hand on her shoulder, putting it back each time Venom forced him to take it off. He was kind enough not to ask her what she had thought of Anne, or if she was reassured. Maybe he was afraid of the answer too.

After that, things got a little complicated. Without doing it on purpose, Y/N put some distance between them. To protect herself, because she only thought of one thing.

One day, Eddie was going to listen to Venom. One day, he was going to see that even if he no longer loved Anne, he could find someone better, and he was going to leave her.

Well, the alien still had contradictory messages. If Y/N sucked, Eddie sucked too. A loser. When he wasn't busy asking for food or criticizing the young woman, he was insulting his poor host.

And if she ended up not listening to what he said about her, only caring about her boyfriend's opinion, she didn't like it at all that Venom treated Eddie so badly.

"No." she said one day, sitting on the sofa, while the journalist was still arguing with the alien for some stupid reason, before throwing up his arms and agreeing to go buy chocolate and tatter tots to calm him down.

"…Uh ? Sorry, Y/N, are you talking to me ?"

"You're not going out."

"Uh. I'll just go to Madam Cheng's. It'll only take a few minutes."

"Venom doesn't deserve chocolate. You stay here, watch the movie with me, and if he apologizes, then he gets some sugar."

“How dare you, stupid woman ?!” the symbiote shouted, showing all its teeth to scare her.

But Y/N wasn’t afraid anymore. Even though he was rude and mean, he had promised Eddie that he would never hurt her, and he seemed to be an alien of words. Aside from his screams, he had nothing against her.

“You, how dare you ?!” she replied, jumping off the couch, which seemed to surprise both Eddie and the symbiote. "I don't care what you think or say about me. I understand that you don't like me, that I'm not good enough, and you know what ? I agree ! Eddie deserves better than me. But he deserves better than you too ! You're an asshole to him ! I forbid you from talking to him like that, or breaking his nose, even if you fix him right after ! He's a great host, you should thank him and do everything to make him happy."

It was stupid, but she started crying as she spoke. Emotions tended to make her cry, even anger. At the silence of her boyfriend and her non-parasite, Y/N felt bad.

She then had the stupid instinct to go lock herself in the bathroom, to try to calm down and remember how to breathe.

From the other side of the door, she heard whispers, but was unable to tell what they were saying.

Then Eddie knocked gently, asking if he could come in, or if she would come out.

"… He's going to apologize ?"

"Yes, I promise."

Trying her tears to not give Venom another reason to make fun of her, Y/N opened shyly, not daring to look at her boyfriend right away, and stood stupidly in front of him, waiting.

“Vee…”

“I’m sorry, brave little morsel.”

"Hmm ? Oh. No, I meant an apology for Eddie."

“He already apologized, love.”

"I don't need him to apologize to me. He meant what he said, and like I said… He's not wrong. But it's nice."

"Little morsel…" Venom whispered, moving closer to her and looking almost sad. "I was totally wrong. I see it now. Eddie explained it to me, but I wasn't listening."

With Eddie translating what he said, the alien explained that for his species, symbiosis was important. They could have several hosts, but there was only one perfect symbiosis, just one.

Part of him wanted to keep his host to himself, jealous and possessive, but that wasn't possible, because contrary to what his attitude seemed to show, he cared about Eddie's happiness.

That was why he was so insistent that he return to Anne. Because from the memories he had seen of his relationship, he had seemed to be in perfect symbiosis with Anne, and since there was only perfect symbiosis, then he had to do everything to get her back, even if she was married to stupid Dan.

He didn’t hate Y/N. It really wasn't personal, it was just logic and survival instinct.

What Venom failed to understand was that human relationships weren't like symbiosis. And in the end, if he had to compare the two, it was now obvious that Eddie's perfect match was with Y/N.

Yes, his ex had helped them, and she would help them again if necessary. But so did Y/N, who had accepted Eddie's special situation, who had stayed despite the horrible things Venom had said, who protected her lover and tried to please the alien.

"Babe…" Eddie sighed, taking her hands. “If anyone is too good for anyone else here, it’s you.”

"He's right."

"… Thank you Vee."

"But you always say she's too good for you. Once we agree, you might be happy !"

"Eddie… You're saying that ?"

"Of course. I still don't know how I managed to seduce you, or why you didn't run away when you saw Vee, or what I did to deserve that such a great girl could think that she's in love with a guy like…"

He jumped a little when she kissed him to stop him from saying any more nonsense, but Eddie quickly relaxed, clinging to her, pinning her against the wall to accentuate the kiss.

Right in their ears they could hear Venom purring in pleasure. They didn't mind until he licked their cheeks.

"Vee ! It's disgusting !"

"You're not listening to me ! I'm telling you to get into bed ! You're going to hurt Y/N if you stay here. A Lady should be caught in satin sheets, surrounded by rose petals, after foreplay of at least twenty minutes, and satisfied several times."

"… What ?!"

"I really like this idea. Eddie, where are my rose petals and at least twenty minutes of foreplay ?"

"Y/N ! Don't team up against me, please !"

"I can help him with endurance. And the rest. I've seen a lot of videos."

"… Okay ! Remind me to take care of my internet history tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, yeah. Less talk, more passion. Little morsel is waiting, I can feel it, and she's ovulating."

"… Aren't you supposed to go get chocolate from Madam Cheng ?"

"Yes ! And I will take the opportunity to explain for the hundredth time why there are things that should not be said."

“But Y/N is wet.”

"And here we go !"

Despite Eddie's explanations, Venom continued to want to give advice and do everything to make his relationship with Y/N perfect.

After all, he had almost ruined everything, so he felt he had an obligation to help these two idiots be happy, living in harmony and understanding what to do to satisfy the other in every situation.

Even if Eddie was already a caring and kind boyfriend, who Y/N didn't want to leave at all despite this little characteristic.

That said, after the alien took the initiative to help with his tongue once, she wasn't really complaining about it.

[nar-nia]

♡ enhypen and things their s/o does to annoy them ♡

//slightly suggestive in some parts. please enjoy 🤭

heeseung - weird petnames

it started as a dumb joke at first

he was saying something and you grinned, replying with a "yes daddy"

AND THE LOOK ON HIS FACE

you never saw him this disgusted

so your plan was clear: use the nickname the entire night

maybe he wouldn't have minded so much if his friends weren't around while you did it... oh well 🤭

he didn't even know your voice could get so whiny

would have dragged you away right then if his friends didn't already have the most annoying grins on their faces

after a while he finally has enough since you just won't stop

so he decides to just play along with it

he goes all in: a hand on your thigh, a "thank you baby" whispered in your ear

he never saw you shutting up this quickly

and the blush on your face?

it was definitely worth it

jay - babying him

this man is so used to babying you

so when you suddenly baby him in return he doesn't know how to react

this just feels wrong to him

he decides to ignore it - maybe it was just an accident

but you just keep doing it, calling him baby and talking in your cute voice

and you're doing it in front of his friends too

so he gets fed UP

he tries being calm at first, he really does

calling you baby too, trying to put you back in your place

but you just won't stop

so finally he's had enough

as soon as you start babying him again he has you on his lap, your arms wrapped around your body to keep you in place

jay's holding onto you, head resting on yours to show you who's the baby

not that you mind though - cuddles are exactly what you wanted all along

jake - not letting him spoil you

jake loves spoiling people. especially you

and normally you don't complain, but you also don't want him to go broke for you

so this time you decided to not comply

"i can buy it myself, don't worry" "why would you do that?"

jake is genuinely confused, silence spreading around the store

he keeps trying it a few times after but you always refuse, telling him you can just buy it yourself

so the case is clear to him

you must not love him anymore

once that thought has come up he gets so pouty

on the one hand you find it funny that he gets sulky over something as simple as this

but on the other hand... he looks genuinely upset and insecure and you feel bad

so you decide to cheer him up and offer to buy him something

but that leaves jake conflicted

because yay, he gets spoiled by his favorite person, but also it should be him spoiling you

he does not know how to react

you eventually give in and let him buy you stuff

and he gets so happy and excited again

you just decide to spoil him with kisses in return

and the promise to never ever do that again

sunghoon - lots of aegyo

he doesn't even know how this started

he just wanted to go on a little weekend trip with you and the guys

but as soon as your plane landed you grabbed his arm, begging to do some sightseeing

but he was tired

instead of accepting his no though you decided you had to convince him

and to sunghoons horror it had to be with aegyo

you went all in: whiny baby voice, big eyes, finger hearts

he was mortified

even worse since you did this in public and in front of his friends

but oh. oh no. this wasn't even the worst part

you weren't the only one that wanted to do some sightseeing

and before sunghoon could react he was surrounded by you, sunoo and jungwon going all out with the aegyo

he just wanted to nap

but he knew this wouldn't stop unless he agreed

so he gives in, agreeing to go sightseeing straight away

best believe that you have to make it up to him after the trip though

sunoo - not babying him

sunoo is the opposite of jay

he is so used to you babying him and taking care of him that everything else feels wrong at this point

it's small things, like how you always buy a pack of mint choco ice cream every time you're shopping together

or how you always hold his hand and drag him around

so why were you not holding his hand right now?

you didn't even really cuddle him when you said hello

but even worse, passed right by the mint choco ice cream??

he is devastated

somehow he manages to make sure that you pass the ice cream section multiple times

he just keeps sighing and throwing glances at his favorite

but you dare to ignore him?? wow

he has the biggest pout on his face

and that won't disappear until you get back home and you drag him to the freezer

revealing multiple mint choco ice creams

sunoo can't help but smile - but he still requires multiple hours of cuddling and lots of kisses to make up for how you treated him today

and his ice cream of course

jungwon - spending too much time with jay

okay listen

jungwon loves you

he loves sharing everything with you

but not jay

those two are soulmates and nothing can come in between them - not even you

so when you suddenly start spending time with jay and not him??

no

he's not even jealous because he wants to spend more time with you

it's simply because he is not willing to let you be best friends with jay

he was there first

and now you two are doing things without him??

you can almost feel his glare whenever you're out

and as soon as you're home and try to talk about your day he just continues glaring at you

he's a bigger gatekeeper than most kpop stans

days like this usually end with you begging for forgiveness until he starts smiling again

you both know it will happen again but jungwon forgives you every time

especially if you promise that it will be the three of you next time

niki - babying him pt. 2

so we all know how he turns ducky plushies into pumas, right?

you had to listen to so many rants about this

he should have known not to trust you with this information

"how's my little ducky today?"

oh the GLARE you are getting as soon as he comes through the door

"what did you call me?"

"my cute little ducky. my ducky wucky. are you in a bad mood?"

oh he is.

"i'm not a duck."

you're just giggling, ignoring how annoyed he is

"ah, i forgot. puma, right?"

he just nods, still wary

"i'm so sorry. did i make my cutesy kitten angry?"

and oh you did

he looks genuinely mad

until you see a spark in his eyes

he knows you're not actually trying to make him angry

it's a sign of love or something

within seconds he has you trapped on the couch, aggressively pinching your cheeks

and wow - you didn't know this man knew so many stupid pet names

he's returning your energy, just 100 times stronger

in the end you're both just giggling and laughing in each other's arms

"i'm still a puma though. i'm cool."

"sure, little ducky."

co-written by the amazing and lovely @ateez-main-yapper ! yes, this started over a discussion about men calling themselves daddy. we do not support this behavior.

if you read it this far please don't hesitate to reblog or send me an ask with your feedback 🩷 i am always happy and excited to hear your opinions. this is also the first time i tried writing in this style so please let me know what you think, that would be very appreciated.

permanent taglist: @suneonu @soobin-chois @sjyuniverse @taekbokki

[suguann]

an. another ex-husband gojo fic because i'll die with this trope. this ends exactly how you'd expect (if you know me)

Satoru doesn’t take it well when you tell him you have a boyfriend after bumping into him in the grocery store parking lot. At least, you don’t think he does. It’s hard to tell, his expression inscrutable as ever behind his dark sunglasses—the sharp arch of his brow the only indication he’s heard you at all.

“Is that so?” he finally says, and for some reason, it makes you nervous. Has you grasping at straws to make something right that isn’t even wrong yet. Has any thought of this being an easy conversation shattered at your feet.

You clear your throat. “Yeah…he’s nice. You might even like him.” 

No, he wouldn’t—a little voice in the back of your head tells you. Knowing it's because all of the unreadable parts of you are no longer connected to him, but instead to a man you've barely spent two months dating, and that must infuriate him.

He doesn’t ask (not that you expect him to) when you find yourself prattling on about how you met Rin through a friend, how he’s an investment banker and takes you out to his cabin on the weekends, that he’s predictable—stable is what you really mean, but don't say—with an ordinary life who wants kids—

Satoru seems to chew on that last bit of information like he’s suddenly tasted something unpleasant, the line of his brow flat and unimpressed, the slant in his mouth mutinous. He’s uttered all but three words, and so far, this entire conversation leaves you with nothing short of a stomach ache.

“He really is a good person,” you add, just because you have nothing else to say and your penchant for filling awkward, empty spaces.

Then he smiles, and you relax a little. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

You smile, too, a soft, sure thing this time that makes his widen.

But if you'd been more level-headed and less flustered about bumping into your ex-husband after several months of silence—since he signed his name beside yours in front of your lawyer—you’d realize how dangerous that smile is.

You’re unsure if it’s too contingent to be considered a coincidence, but he starts showing up in odd places after that all-too-uncomfortable one-sided conversation in the parking lot.

First, it’s at your favorite coffee shop you usually stop at on your way to work. It’s strange because you remember him hating coffee, how he'd always preferred to load it with creamer and sweetener just to get rid of the bitter taste. But you don’t mention it when he offers—no, insists on paying for your coffee and blueberry streusel muffin.

When the total pops up on the register, he doesn’t even blink when he opens his wallet.

Of course, you can't let him pay. There must be something in writing somewhere that says ex-husbands shouldn't pay for their recently divorced ex-wife's coffee.

He shrugs, smiling, after you tell him it’s expensive—has that ever bothered me?—and slides a shiny black card across the counter to the barista.

“You can't show up out of nowhere and start buying me things,” you hiss afterward, slightly flustered by the whole ordeal. The city’s big, but you still worry about one of your friends or colleagues seeing you with Satoru—they may get the wrong idea. “We’re not together anymore.”

"Do I have to message you the next time I want to get you coffee?" he tucks his hands into his coat.

"No, we shouldn't even be getting coffee together."

“Am I not allowed to be nice now that you have a boyfriend?”

“That’s not what I said,” you huff. “And you didn’t even buy yourself anything. How am I supposed to look at it?”

He shrugs, “I decided I didn’t want anything,” and you don't even think he notices that he holds your hand when you go to cross the street.

Habit. You'll write that one off as a habit, but he doesn't let go until you're in front of the tall, shiny doors of your office building.

The second time he shows up unannounced is while you're walking through the quaint park near your apartment, which you know is far from his sleek penthouse on 5th Avenue, the one with a perfect view of the city and the bay—a thirty-minute drive, at least.

“I bought a house out here,” he tells you when you ask. “It’s up on the hill.”

You know which one he’s talking about. You’ve driven past it a few times. It's a cozy brick stone with lots of windows, a white picket fence, and a large backyard, something you’ve always wanted since before you were married. According to a real estate website, his house is a little over a million. 

Interest must be written all over your face because he asks: “You want to see it?”

There are a number of reasons why you shouldn’t say yes, why you should politely decline and finish your last lap along the trail and run to the grocery store afterward to pick up something for dinner and call Rin to let him hear about your day—

“Okay,” you say, hands on your hips. “But make it quick.”

He smiles down at you, eyes crinkling at the corners with something akin to affection. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to remind him, again, that you’re not together, so he’s not allowed to use pet names, but a large hand on the small of your back to usher you towards the shiny, sleek SUV across the street leaves you with a mouth full of cotton.

He watches you take in the hardwood floors and tall ceilings trimmed with crown molding. When you stop in the massive kitchen to run your fingers over the granite countertops, it almost feels bittersweet walking through the house of your dreams while your ex-husband eyes you questioningly as if he's looking for your approval.

“So? What do you think?”

The smile you give him is genuine. “It’s beautiful.”

Satoru matches your smile with a bigger one, almost blinding. “That’s good, that’s really good.”

You feel like you should ask why he bought a house this big in the first place, but there’s a pebble in your stomach if you think about family photos on the walls with him happy and smiling, his arm around a pretty wife who wears frilly aprons and kisses him on the cheek when he comes home. A future where you don’t exist, yet he’s letting you take a peak into it, anyway.

So you don’t say anything.

You meant to leave an hour ago, but he plied you with dinner— friends can have dinner together, can’t they? —which leads to two glasses of wine and then watching movies together on his very soft couch. If everything didn't feel so fuzzy around the edges, you probably would have noticed the signs sooner, that he’s trying to—

(He presses you into the couch cushions, biting marks into your neck and chest until your breaths come out fast and high-pitched.

“We shouldn’t,” you manage to say, still tipsy and tongue heavy in your mouth from the wine you had. "Toru, I should really go."

He huffs a laugh against your cheek—you note how he still wears the same cologne you bought him all those years ago when everything was so new, and there wasn't a ring on your finger yet—pressing a messy kiss there that makes you squirm. “Doesn’t this remind you of old times, though?”

“B-but I have a boyfriend.”

In retaliation, he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh around the fluttering pulse in your neck, just shy of too rough, though your fingers in his hair pull him into you like you can’t get enough.)

That maybe this means he—

(Satoru bunches the lace of your panties in his fist, shoving them up around your knees, trapping your legs together against your chest. A long, drawn-out groan rumbles in his chest at discovering the creamy mess between your thighs. “Always had such a pretty wet pussy, fuck. Do you get this wet for him, too?”

“Shut up.”

He laughs because he hears what you don’t say: No, you’ve never been this turned on when it’s with Rin. Satoru’s the only one to ever leave you wet and shaky just from a few words.)

It’s an insane thought, but it’s almost like Satoru—

(He holds his hand up to your mouth, telling you to lick before he wraps it around his cock, pressing the tip into the slick seam of your cunt. And you forgot how big he is, just on the side of too much, the bit of effort it takes for him to sink in a little, and then all at once, rending you right down the middle.

You whimper, fingers scrabbling clumsily for one of the throw pillows near your head, needing something to hold on to.

“There you go, pretty girl,” Gojo breathes, hips tight and close, grinding into you so that you can feel how deep he is. “I see she can still take it.”)

No, he wouldn’t—

(He fucks you hard enough to send you skittering up the couch, only to pull you back down again, grinding you on his cock to touch places inside you that he’s only ever managed to reach. You whine into where your face is pressed against the back cushions, biting down to muffle how loud you’re being.

He makes a displeased sound and forces you to look at him again with his fingers digging into your cheeks.

"What if I give you a little baby, huh? We'll be a family together. You, me, and our baby in this big house. Doesn't that sound nice? We'll fill the house with babies," he mutters, bending down to suck a nipple into his mouth, forcing your legs further against your chest.

The angle rubs just right inside you. You make an unintelligible noise at the back of your throat, unable to move or get better friction in this position.

“We did it your way last time, didn’t we, baby?” his little laugh is breathless, kind of mean. “I let you leave with all those silly thoughts in your head; thought you knew what you wanted, but now we’re going to do it my way from now on.”

His words should strike alarm bells, but when he fits his hand between your bodies to strum his thumb against your clit, your mind empties.

"You've always been mine." Words barely audible, he still sounds breathless; wrecked. "It's about time you get that through your head.")

Except you know he would. 

A month later, you’re packing away the fine china in your apartment, wondering how the few things you own will fill a house so large.

[autistichalsin]

Halsin's solomanced epilogue devastates me without fail EVERY TIME.

He thought it would be a mistake to go. He was certain that you, connecting with your old friends, would realize you were absolutely miserable with him at the commune, and you would leave. For the first time in his life, Halsin didn't want to roam anymore- he wanted to stay somewhere safe and comforting, and that included you. But he was sure coming was going to change all of that and make you leave him.

But he still went, partly because he missed your friends so much, and partly because he knew, if that was the case, he still needed to let you discover that. That once again, he couldn't "hoard you to himself" and be selfish. So he went, certain that any moment, you'd return to him and say it was over, and you'd found a new adventure to start without him.

It kills me that he doesn't even try to stop you! He lays out his concerns, so vulnerable but so matter-of-fact. Knowing it isn't his place to change your mind.

"You could have done anything. Gone with anyone. Yet you chose me." There's just so much... unspoken pain and confusion in that statement. He doesn't understand how or why you could have chosen him above anyone else. And for that reason alone, his own inability to see how special he is (ironic coming from the one who tells YOU back in your romance scene together that you are too modest, not realizing how special YOU are) he is certain you're about to leave him, but unlike in the act 3 romance scene where he's sure you're about to leave him for accidentally wildshaping, there's no frantically-stammered excuses. Just heartbroken acceptance.

And then, when you reassure him that of course you're staying, of course you're happy with him?

"I am still expecting to... stir from the dream."

"Forgive me. This past while has been so idyllic that I almost fear something must go wrong."

Which is a sign that on top of his insecurities and abandonment issues, this man very much does have trauma/PTSD. Because people with trauma? They're really good at living through a crisis, and really bad at NOT being in one. How do you function when there's nothing to fix? Nothing going wrong? No fires to put out? Too much quiet makes the noise inside of you louder, and that's harder to ignore than external noise. So when that happens, you start worrying about what must be about to go wrong- and for Halsin, that was losing you. He was so sure that his happiness was going to be fleeting at best that he convinced himself that you were only going to be a part of it so long as you weren't reminded of how much you loved adventuring with your friends, that the instant you remembered what the alternatives to him were, you'd take them.

It breaks my damn heart, and it makes me so happy you get to promise him that he is exactly what you want, no more and no less.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

I'm not saying yandere Dick Grayson would baby trap his darling...but he most definitely would

Warnings: toxic and abusive themes. forced domesticated life, mentions of baby trapping, purposeful weight gain, manipulation, dick is a good hubby though, he's just so desprate

Please just hear me out on this concept. Now i've said before that Dick Grayson would've realistically had to put a halt on his personal life and relationships because alongside being nightwing and keeping his family together, it'd just be too much.

Could you imagine Yandere! Dick is like hitting his mid-thirties at this point, work is growing old and all of his siblings are just about adults and he's exhausted. One day, the siblings are all just chilling around the mansion and the topic of what they plan to do with their life after being a vigilante comes up. Dick hadn't though about it ever because well...this consumed every minute of his life but he figured he'd probably settle down and start a family. Jokingly one of his siblings said, "How could you ever find time for another family when you're already the matriarch of this one?", and it just hasn't left his mind since.

Fast forward and he's sitting in a dinner alone after patrol and he's just watching this family and their kids and it just hits him that he'll never have that at the rate he's going. If he doesn't end up dead from his work, he'd probably end up rotting in that mansion alone because he's too busy fixing the messes Bruce made with the others. He's been a "father" to his siblings since his teen years and he has not much to show for it. I mean he's proud of all of them but...he's still just their older brother...

He goes home and is thinking about just how happy that father looked while throwing his kids up in the air...or how beautiful his wife looked carrying their unborn child. He envied how simple and perfect their life was. They didn't have to miss out on life to fight crime around the clock or to piece back together something he never broke. They could happily go home..with each other and be proud of what they've made. He's looking back at his life and while he knows he's accomplished so much but being an actual dad is something he'll never get a chance to be. Not while he's still playing as the head of Bruce's household.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who now wants to be a father so badly and to come home to a pretty wife who truly loved him. Not just some one nighter who couldn't see past his body.

He met you by chance a few weeks later. It was while he was grabbing food before his nightly patrol, and the spark was like never before. It was fate. or delusion You were destined to be his pretty wife and be his ticket out of that mess. You're so perfect

Dick is maybe a little too eager to make his desires a reality. Like he's completely ready to let go of his previous familial duties to make way for his new ones. It's a huge shift but it's a necessary one. This is his Fiona Gallagher moment. He's steadily loosening the grip and ignoring calls to be fully focused on you. Dick wants to prove he'll be a great husband who won't neglect you for anyone else even if they're as close as family. He can't let them get in the way anymore.

He doesn't care if he has to manipulate his way into your heart, he's going to have you. He's the only one that'd ever be as good to you as he will be. There's not even a money limit on how much he's willing to pour into this process. If it takes paying your rent or car note to prove he's provider material...then so be it. Anything for the future mother of his children.

!Yandere Dick Grayson who doesn't even know if you want kids or marriage but he's so far gone in his own fantasies that he just assumes you have the same goals as he...even if you don't...you soon will..I like to think he slowly shifts you into being a stay at home girlfriends and floods your mind with ideas of this being your purpose. He needs you to know just how great you are at being domestic...this isn't so bad right? You could do this for the rest of your life!

Like i said he doesn't mind throwing money at you if it'll make you desire this life with him. Besides, he prefers you to be financially dependent on him. You are so shy when you ask him for things but he loves knowing that you need him, just like a good wife does.

First he's just always wanting you over his house for cute dates, then it's becoming a weekender situation...then a few days out of the week and now you practically live with him.

In the meantime he's doing subtle things like cooking dinner and breakfast with you at the same times every day. This is so you'll automatically start doing this on your own and so you know what he likes and at what time. He's got you doing shopping runs for the home. He's a sneaky little shit who asks you to throw in his laundry and clean up his messes while he's at work. He of course compensates you for being such a great helper. Your new job is here at his home. It fills him up with so much joy when he comes home and all your tasks are completed.

Yandere! Dick who is always surprising you with foods and snacks you cannot resist to make you plumper for when you're carrying his baby. Of course he's denying the allegations when you jokingly tease him about making you fat on purpose but we know the truth. Still, he's loving your body regardless, it needs to be healthy with extra fats to keep your children protected. He can barely contain himself though when he sees your little stomach pudge , it gets him all too excited for the real deal. It makes him feel all the less guilty about tampering with the contraceptives when he thinks about how gorgeous you'll be when you're swollen with his baby. I mean you're already this cute with a little bloat.

Oh just the thought of you walking around in public and everyone who sees you know that you're already claimed..ugh He doesn't know what to do with himself. You're all his and no one can steal you away from him. Not when you don't have any time. You're too busy taking care of the home and the baby to be bothered by anything else.

You won't be too mad at him, right? I mean just so desperate to have a quiet new life. He wants to be a father so bad, please let him have this. He'll be so so good for you and the baby.....he needs this.