#man there are just so many factors to consider

[acid-ixx]

Hi! I had a question about batfam x neglected! reader. Will it have a happy ending? Love your work! <3

— masterlist !

hello anon !! now, as much as i love happy endings, and as far as my plans go since ive mostly written out outlines for simply the newer chapters but not much for endings, i would say that it most definitely wouldn't be a happy ending/s in terms of being kidnapped back into the manor (before your boyfriend whisks you away), or (even if i love him a lot) getting together with conner—

all because you've long since given up on your family, so trying to love a newer version of them that coddles you all the time, never having any moment of privacy, being given physical affection that you never quite know how to reciprocate or receive; you're bound to be overwhelmed. sure, you've got what child-you always wanted, always desired, but it's so hard finding an inkling of an answer as to why now did they decide to just love you?

is it because you've matured, or do they only like a version of you that used to chase after them, and now they miss that integral part of your life? is it out of sheer guilt of their neglect— or have they always loved you from the start, just never knowing that they did?

either way, breakdowns are a common factor of your life if you were ever kidnapped. you'll always be held, even if you push them away. always peppered with kisses, or hands that linger on your cheeks and the expanse of your back throughout the shivers of fear that someday they might just snap at you for always fighting back. you're not forced to play the fantasy that everything is normal, that your past traumas were never existent—

bruce ensures you get proper therapy sessions alone (though cameras are always plastered in whichever room you may be) and with the family, you can take your time, that is only one freedom they allow you to have; but he always wishes that you'll soon find joy in the way they care for you; no matter how many years it would take, no matter if you fight back with your nails digging deep into their skin or a hidden weapon ready to drag out a fight you know you'd never win.

and it doesn't help the fact that you feared all of them as much as you loved them back in the past, at the knowledge that they're vigilantes, of their powers and abilities that could easily snap necks or break bones. even if you learn to adjust, their strength will always stay a primordial fear of yours— especially if it were jason's finger that slowly tighten overtime without his knowledge whenever he finds himself cuddling you in the soft, bruce's arms that stay dormant on your back, acting as both your support and cage every time he leads you to another, or damian who could turn anything he holds into a weapon used against anyone who threatens his time with his older sibling, even duke's metahuman ability warrants more panic attacks than fascination on your part, no matter how gentle and approachable he portrays himself to be in front of you.

you know it in yourself that you'll truly never get used to whatever love they throw your way, no matter how little of it was given in the past, or how overwhelming overflowing it is in the near future. it's just who you are, a child of bruce who doesn't truly comprehend their feelings.

and if you ever do adjust, if even possible, who's to say it will get rid of the overbearing sense of doom that unsheathes itself stubbornly upon your beating chest, whispering in every crevice of your mind the possibility that their affections are all a farce; that they'll soon lose interest in you the moment you reciprocate.

as for conner, your ending with him might be considered a happy one, if it means you're completely and perfectly willing to live an isolated life with the man of your dreams. i mean, you've already been neglected and left alone all by yourself for more than a decade— is conner leaving you for just a few minutes or, at most, an hour, speeding through different places to restock your pantry in a home in the middle of nowhere going to affect you that much?

well, the answer is... yes.

once you complied that, yes, you're perfectly fine relying on your man for your wants and needs, your desire for physical affection and even your bodily desires— it quite frankly means you've agreed to become one with him, your life will be full of memories of just you and conner, all alone with nowhere to escape, no place to hide; exposing all the deepest parts of yourself for a man who've you met in a bar.

at first, it would all go well. he's always loving you, nothing about that will change; always basking you in gifts, lavishing your home into various decorations he knows you'd love, holding you whenever you're down or need a shoulder to cry on; that's the reason why you even wanted to be with him in the first place. but what will change is your independence, and the foundations that you built based upon boundaries, will crumble.

there will be no secrets to be kept, no emotions hidden. you can journal, still, and be left alone to your whims but you know that conner will always read your entries, or worship your art right after. eating breakfast, bathing, picking and wearing clothes; all your routine life will be done with him. everything about your relationship focuses purely on codependency, on feelings so viscerally raw and pure to the point you both destroy each other in indulging your wants.

your relationship with conner will soon turn into your addiction on him for every single decision, every moment spent together; every year, months, hours, minute, seconds of your days all dictated into the man you're going to spend the rest of your life with.

even arguments, either small or huge, will always lead to you finding comfort in the arms of the person you fought against. you've nothing but him, he's nothing without you. even fights will dissolve just as quickly because you're too scared that he'll leave you, and conner hates it when you look at him with the same look you display whenever you think of your family.

at least for conner, though, you'd be living a life of raw, undulating pleasure. he'll indulge in you, of course he'd do for his lovely little (soon-to-be) spouse, but you gotta remember that "you're safer with me. okay, baby?" that translates that contact with any other human is rarer than finding specks of gold in a river, and anyone outside of your home life is an immediate threat to conner, who shields your exposure to the public, who kisses and wipes away your tears whenever you'd break down after a fight, who'll always be right behind you when you least expect it.

just like how it's always should've been.

i'm back to answering asks, so feel free to send in some conspiracy theories or whatever guys. it's been quite some time that i did and i miss doing so, so expect more of these especially for my main series and occasionally for loving family, unpalatable desire 😭

anyways, the simple answer for this one is: choose your poison. i'm not implying that these two are the only endings. i have so many paths i want to take and i haven't even introduced an integral character yet to the plot. conner is one of them, but there's another and anyone can guess who it is; but i'm sure barely anyone would get it right unless i drop a hint hehe.

— back to the topic, which one would any of you pick? loved by too many, or loved too much by one 'til it destroys you? or do you choose the secret option and move to a country and change your entire identity and hope to god that nobody else would fall in love with you? i think the last option is most realistic but conner kent is also tempting so...

[scumsketches]

I think people are way too normal about the way Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe were acting during the five years that SQQ were dead. Like when I was reading I saw that shit and went "wow that is enemies to lovers behavior right there" and then proceeded to never see it in the fandom.

Come on guys, the homoerotic sword fights are right there! The fact that after years everyone except them had given up on SQQ! The drama of your enemy being the only one who understands the deep love you have for this man, of feeling like you're the only two people in the world who still care, of getting what the other person is going through but also hating them for what they are doing to you. Both of you having very different ideas of what it means to love someone, but at least you can respect each other for trying.

Despite everything, Yue Qingyuan never canonically tried to go get SQQs body. Maybe this was because he wanted to avoid a war, maybe because something just felt off, like it wasn't his Xiao Jiu anymore. There is also no evidence that any other peak lords went to Huan Hua, besides Mu Qingfang, who was literally kidnapped. It was just Liu Qingge, fighting for SQQ every day.

There has to be some kind of bond that forms, having fought each other for so long. Some kind of understanding. Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe probably saw each other at their worsts, when Liu Qingge came crawling back with so many half healed wounds and broken bones, but still determined to fight. When Luo Binghe was so exhausted by his Qi transfers, running Huan Hua, trying to find a way to save his Shizun.

What did it look like on the anniversary of Shen Qingqiu's death? How did they mourn?

And what about the angst factor of falling in love with someone while the man you love is still dead and gone? And feeling something for the person who stole him from you? The guilt, the agony?

Anyways, I'm just surprised I haven't seen more BingLiuShen where the BingLiu started brewing during those five years. There's no way I could fight a man for five years, always spare his life/be spared, and NOT feel something. Even if it's not romantic,,,

Consider, years after the end of the novel. BingQiu are together, living their best life. But even years later, on the anniversary of Shen Qingqiu's death...

A demon emperor lands on Bai Zhan Peak. And the War God is waiting for him, sword drawn.

[carcarrot]

only mere days ago telling myself i am not going to make any more purchases. relapsed

[cerealmonster15]

Sudden mass layoffs are so so so so prevalent in my field and it’s so scary I hate opening Twitter or LinkedIn and finding out another 200 people are suddenly out of a job and then going to the discords to check if my friends and former classmates still have a job. Wondering if I’ll be in that same boat if I do try to leave this company for one that might have better benefits bc it seems more common that bigger companies to this… like idk I wonder if we were unionized if it would help?? Idk how unions work we don’t really have them in gamedev. It’s such a wild and turbulent field sometimes. Like I still love what I do but it’s scary

[astrxealis]

i am so obnoxious over bg3 but like. privately. bcs i'm still urgehafsjsh over how astarion is literally everything to me now and i really adore him but hi: i haven't played bg3. anyway. half-elf + bard maybe!

[citrusitonit]

thers this bitter passive aggressiveness between kids who secretly find a younger kid annoying and its really sad

[wannabespacesmuggler]

L.H. | Scotty Doesn't Know

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Scott Summers made two things clear for Logan when he first arrived at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters: stay away from his girlfriend and don’t even look at his little sister. The former was easy.  The latter, though? That one’s a little harder for Logan.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Summers!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence

Word Count: 2.2K

Author’s Note: So, your boy has seen Deadpool and Wolverine too many times and is currently experiencing Hugh Jackman brain rot. Had to write something after listening to "Scotty Doesn't Know" by Lustra and then it just kinda just took on a life of it's own. Let me know if you guys want more Logan fics because I'm so obsessed with this man rn.

“Just doing maintenance, or are you going for a ride?”

Logan looks up from where he was working on his bike. He damn near almost bites through the cigar in his mouth when he spots you leaning against the garage door. He shouldn’t be surprised; despite his best efforts, Logan always seems to be accompanied by your presence -- both at the mansion and in the field. It’s not that he wants to ignore your existence. Scott Summers made two things clear for Logan when he first arrived at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters: stay away from his girlfriend and don’t even look at his little sister. Logan wanted to scoff at Scott’s warning: opposed to public belief, he’s not actually an animal. 

The former was easy -- Jean made it abundantly clear that she’s in love with Scott. The latter, though? That one’s a little harder for Logan -- especially when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re just as fascinated with him as he is with you. 

“Just working.”

You nod at his answer as he returns his attention to his bike, putting out his cigar in the process. His bluntness is unsurprising, but no matter how often Logan tries to blow you off, you still feel the harsh sting of disappointment. Logan Howlett is an enigma to you. A problem you just can’t seem to find the solution to. You’ve always gotten along with Logan and work well enough together that Charles often pairs the two of you up on missions. He protects you with his life in the field. He’s the first to offer you a helping hand when he notices you struggling. He consistently provides support after every mission that goes awry. It would be easy to consider him a friend; however, Logan has always kept you at a distance. He brushes you off whenever you ask if he wants to do something simple like share a drink or watch a movie. 

At first, you thought it was because he was afraid of you -- of your mutation. Just like your older brothers, you have the ability to manipulate energy. And just like your older brothers, you have difficulty controlling your powers without the help of external factors -- Alex had the suit, Scott has his glasses, and you have two siphons that you wear on either wrist. Without them, energy builds up in your body until it cannot be contained and then escapes through the only place it knows how -- your hands. The siphons help regulate the amount of energy coursing through your body, and most importantly, they give you the power to choose when and how to disperse it. 

During one of your missions, one of your siphons was destroyed. You and Logan were fighting for your lives against an anti-mutant militia after being separated from the rest of the X-men. The two of you were outnumbered and on your own since communication with the team had been cut off. Logan was willing to fight to the death against these soldiers, and you were prepared to back him up until the end. During the fight, Logan got pinned down by multiple assailants, and you watched helplessly as they attempted to decapitate your partner. You felt the familiar sensation of energy building throughout your body as you struggled against your own group of attackers. All hope seemed lost until one of the soldiers nailed you in the back of the head -- hard. The hit caused you to fall forward, and you braced yourself, using your hands to catch your falling body. As your hands connected with the ground, an energy field shot out of your hands. You prepared yourself for another blow, but it never comes. The chaos around you suddenly seemed to turn into an eerie silence. Finally, you look up and let out a shaky breath as you take in the carnage caused by your energy field. Everything around you was completely eviscerated -- everything except Logan.

Logan let out a low, pained groan, and you watched in horror as his body heals himself from the wounds you inflicted. You looked down at your hands in shock. It’s been ages since your powers were this volatile. Since you felt this out of control. At this moment, you noticed the state of your left siphon -- wholly shattered. No wonder you weren’t able to control your powers. 

The sound of your name eventually pulled your attention away from your hands. Looking up, you saw Logan cautiously approaching you. His concerned eyes scan your body for any injuries and once he seemed certain that you’re okay, he met your gaze.

“We need to get out of here.”

It wasn’t until the you were back on the jet with the rest of the team, that Logan approached you about what happened in the field. You were sitting away from the others at the back of the jet, studying your broken siphon. Suddenly, a pair of large hands cover yours, obscuring your siphon entirely. You look up and see Logan knelt in front of you. 

“You good?”

He didn’t move his hands from yours as he spoke and you relished in the contact. A dry laugh escaped your lips as you considered his question.

“I couldn’t control myself out there, Logan. Without my siphons, I’m just as dangerous as the enemy out there.”

Logan’s face softened at your words. He understands why you’re so panic-stricken right now -- knowing all too well how it feels to lose control.

“Hey. Look at me, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

You scoffed at his words. Of course he’s fine. He’s damn near indestructible, but you saw the aftermath of your outburst. Saw the devastation caused by your hands. Those same hands that Logan is now tightening his grip around -- grounding you back in reality.

“Seriously. You might think you were a liability out there, but you saved my life.”

You met his eyes again and are taken aback by the sincerity you found in them. 

“I could have killed you.” 

And there it is -- what’s actually eating you up inside. He’s aware of the fact that your powers could have killed any of your teammates -- including himself. But they didn’t. He’s here with you, unafraid, because even though you think your powers are something that should be feared, he just finds them remarkable.

“I know. Trust me, I know. But you didn’t.”

You nodded at his words, feeling a little more at ease. Your heart dropped as he removed his hands from yours, but instead of walking away, Logan took a seat next to you. He didn’t say another word, but he didn’t have to. His presence alone was enough to settle you down.

After that day, you thought maybe something changed between you and Logan. Although there was a newfound understanding and sureness with one another -- he still kept you at arm’s length. In all honesty, the whole situation confuses the shit out of you.

“Did I do something that upset you?”

Logan’s brow furrows at your question, and his eyes finally find yours again. He doesn’t drop the tool in his hand, but he’s shifted his body to face yours now.

“What?”

“Did I do something that upset you?”

Logan shakes his head as you repeat your question, looking at you incredulously. He doesn’t understand where this outburst is coming from.

“What are you talking about?”

Your brow furrows at the genuineness of his confusion. How could this man not know what you’re talking about?

“Do you like working with me?”

Logan blinks at your words. Now he’s completely lost. He sets down the tool in his hand and stands up, crossing both of his arms over his chest. 

“What’s this all about, sweetheart?”

You let out a frustrated sigh and run your hands through your hair. If only this man knew how infuriated he makes you. So, he won’t drink a beer with you at the end of the day, but he’ll throw around the name ‘sweetheart’ like it’s nothing? The man is simultaneously your favorite and least favorite person.

“I’m just trying to figure out what I did that pissed you off.”

Logan scoffs at the idea as if you’re the one being ridiculous here. And, to Logan, you are being ridiculous. The only thing that’s ever pissed him about you is completely out of your control -- if only you weren’t Scott’s little sister.

“I’m not pissed at you.”

You genuinely want to pull your own hair out right now.

“Are we friends?”

Friends. The word hurts Logan more than it should. Actually, it shouldn’t hurt at all. That’s what you both are, right? Just friends and partners in the field. Except you’ve never been just a friend or just a partner to Logan. Not really. But he can’t do anything about that. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, but his posture is still defensive. 

“Then why won’t you just drink a beer with me?”

Oh. Oh.

Logan supposes that his behavior is odd. Friends are expected to spend time together and well, the only time he spends with you is during training sessions or missions. Your whole relationship is grounded in the two of you working together, but somehow, it’s turned into something more intimate. The tender moments between missions and the tension during intense training sessions -- although Logan had attempted to make clear boundaries with you, the lines blurred at some point, and now Logan is left with the consequences.

“It’s complicated.”

He’s not wrong. He knows himself. His feelings for you were already complicated enough. If he were to close the distance he made between the two of you? Well, he may not actually be an animal, but he’s not sure if he could control himself. 

“Oh, is it?”

You’re frustrated. And you’re no longer leaning against the garage door. No, you’re standing just a few feet away from him now -- hands on your hips defiantly. Logan rolls his shoulders back, trying to stop himself from lashing out against you. You try to ignore how his muscles flex against the thin white tank top he’s wearing due to the movement. 

“Yeah, it is. I promised Scott…”

“This is seriously about my brother?”

“Well, yeah.”

You let out a dry laugh. This whole situation is absurd, but you should have known. Without Alex around, Scott feels the need to be the overprotective older brother. He’s warned you about Logan countless times since he first arrived at the mansion, but you never really listened to him. It always seemed ridiculous to you -- especially since the dangerous man he constantly warned you about was the same man he trusted to protect you during every mission. Of course, Scott also cautioned Logan to stay away from you.

“He may be my brother, but he doesn’t get to make my decisions for me, Logan.”

You take a step towards Logan and he watches you with an intensity that would make you uncomfortable if it were any other man. But this isn’t any other man. 

“And he doesn’t get to choose who I spend my time with.”

And in this moment, Logan knows that he’s fucked. You’re fiesty, and headstrong, and determined -- all attributes that he admires in you. If you’ve decided that he’s the person you want to spend your time with, then who is he to argue? 

“So what do you say -- wanna go for a ride?”

A wild grin spread across his face at your question. Little do you know that he’s thought about this exact moment more than he’ll ever care to admit. Throwing all caution to the wind, he grabs his leather jacket and climbs on his bike. You watch him with bated breath as you wait for his response. Instead of giving you an answer, Logan kicks the starter, causing the motorcycle to roar to life. A part of you is afraid that you misconstrued your relationship and that this is all going to end with Logan riding off on his own. But then Logan looks back at you, eyebrow raised playfully.

“You coming, sweetheart?” 

Without a second thought, you climb on the back of his bike. Logan revs the engine once before glancing back at you again. 

“You might want to hang on.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your hands slide under his leather jacket and wrap around his waist. Logan tries to fight off the shiver that begs to travel down his spine as he feels the warmth of your hands against his abdomen through the thin cotton fabric. He wonders if you know what you do to him -- how hard it is for him to pull away when he’s in your presence. It’s like you're a magnet made just for him.

“When your brother finds out…”

The laugh that escapes your lips is like music to his ears. And as you press your body closer to his, he decides that even if he’s going to hell for this, at least he gets to experience the heaven of this moment right here.

“What Scotty doesn’t know, won’t kill him.”

Logan shakes his head before peeling out of the garage. God, the Summers family is going to be the death of him.

[wishful-sinful-9]

Love the idea that Logan (with his healing factor and adamantium) thinks humans with no mutation are like… extremely fragile. Maybe even thinks they are sickly. When he’s not in a cage match he’s like, very lightly gripping ppls hands in a handshake. Gets very concerned if a human is left out in the elements for too long haha

I agree and I'm going to run with this concept a little bit here lmao

NSFW content

I can imagine he's also never ever considered going out with one because he assumes they'd think he was some sort of animalistic freak.

so when he's at a bar, and this pretty non-mutant girl makes eye contact with him, he thinks oh shit.

he knows he's in trouble when you approach him, flashing him a coy smile and attempting some cliché line that tells him he's not just in trouble, he's in deep shit, because it's obvious you're not very experienced in this department. you flirt, and he half-heartedly tells you, “you don't want to get involved with me, kid.”

“I'm not a kid, and why do you think that, Logan?”

he meets your sparkling eyes, “because I'm a bad man.”

“How bad?”

“very, very bad.”

when you giggle at him he knows it's over.

-

despite your enthusiasm, Logan wants to take it as slow as he can so as to give you as many opportunities to back out as possible. but when you're on your fourth date, having invited him round to watch a movie, and you're giving him this dangerously playful smile every two seconds...

he has you under him in the couch, crying as he grinds his cock into you, his dog tags dangling over your face.

you realise that he's trying to hold back - he's aware of his strength and nature and is afraid he'll hurt you. but your pawing at his biceps moaning for more.

then you do something that makes him stutter in his pace: you yank him down by his tags and give him a searing kiss, biting on his lower lip as you pull away. a little shocked, he blinks down at you as you whimper, “you're not going to break me, I can take it, Lo.”

he hesitates. then he lowers his lips to your ear, “promise you'll tell me to stop if I go too far.”

“I promise, baby.”

And suddenly, he's ramming into you at this toe-curling pace and grunting like an animal. you cum quickly, crying out and coating his cock with your release. but he shows no signs of stopping: tears of overstimulation stream down your cheeks as he reaches down between you, to the creamy mess of your cunt, and spreads the cum drooling out of you up to your clit, where he rubs tight circles. the sounds of him pounding into you and making a bigger mess of your fluids are beyond obscene, it would make you blush hard if you weren't already flushed from the pleasure.

you let him manhandle you into a variation of positions and pull another two orgasms from you until he groans, gripping the armrest above your head, the sudden sound of metal slicing the air making your eyes widen as his claws unsheath while he spills ropes of cum into you.

he pants, drawing them back in and looking down at you.

he's still fully seated inside when he grunts, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't realise they would-”

“it's okay,” you cut in, “it was hot.”

he blinks at your beaming face.

oh shit indeed.

[nerdvi]

In the wake of the whole james somerton fiasco and inspired by this post, I wanted to share a few of my um, soft signs, like, orange flags to detect when someone is bullshitting you.

First of all, I am on the spectrum which means 1) I tend to take what people say at face value and 2) I have a strong sense of justice which makes me prone to biases, all of which combined means I am at perpetual risk of swallowing the bullshit.

So, what to do about it? You turn on the critical thinking and pay attention.

As one of my favorite youtubers, Hannah Alonzo, likes to say: "consider the source, remember the motive". Who is talking to you?? What do you know about them?? What biases might they have?? How do they interact with your own biases?? Where are they talking from?? Is it anger?? happinness? boredom?? Also, why are they talking to you? Are they trying to sell you something?? Are they trying to convince you and why?? How do they go about the finantial motivation, if present? If you have, in this case, a white cis gay man talking to you as it he has it the worst of the worst in the world, there's probably some exaggeration and you should start to wonder. There's a good chance he's bullshitting you.

How they talk about women and POC No, no, stay with me. There's a rule I had back when I was dating men: Always beware of how they treat their mother. With the exception of extremes like mama's boys and cases of abuse, how a man treats the woman with whom they have that familial bond is a good indicator of how they are going to treat you. Do they berate her? speak ill of her? are aggressive or controlling? do they dismiss her opinions? Same with creators, and by god I tell you, specially cis male creators, queer or otherwise, always always beware of how they speak of women, how they treat women, how they treat POC. Somerton had a weird vendetta against straight women. It went mostly unnoticed. Then, he was dismissive towards lesbians and other queer women and it was once again overlooked. Then he went ahead and made sinophobic content about genres and cultures he knows NOTHING about. Again, it went unchecked. What I am telling you is IT'S NOT NORMAL. Contempt about women and non white-western cultures is not normal and if someone has them as them as an enemy or a scapegoat, they're probably bullshitting you. Take what they say and fact check it, see for yourself.

If at any point in a video or an essay you find yourself thinking "wait, really??" then it's time to fact check. Is it a bit suspicious?? is your logic telling you that's not quite how this works?? Then take to google, my friend, they might be bullshitting you. At worst, you dodge a fake fact, at best, you learn way too much about a topic you were already interested in.

Beware of the lack of nuance. I can not stress this enough. We all love monochrome, but life and societal issues are never black and white. It's just impossible, there's too many factors to consider. If you are being presented situations or anecdotes as absolute truths, you're probably being bullshitted. If it's too good to be true, it is. If it sounds waaay too convenient, it probably is. A good researcher, a serious investigator, will always have some nuance because they have done the work and checked the sources. If someone provides you 1) no nuance and 2) no sources, THEY'RE BULLSHITTING YOU.

These are the ones I can come up with just of the top of my head, I'm sure there's more and please, add them. Remember that naivité isn't a crime, I'm fairly naive and that's made me distrustful, and these are some of the techniques I've found that help me navigate through a world of information without losing myself.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! CEO Headcanons

Just a little idea I had some time ago of a rather bizarre dynamic: a CEO with no time to spare, introduced to a young student his wife befriended. Perhaps he does have a moment, after all. (I need to dump my preference for a cultured older man somewhere)

Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, NSFW, dating the wife is optional

[Original works masterlist]

Yandere! CEO who is in his mid 40s and terribly invested in his job. So much, that he and his wife agreed on an open relationship many years ago and barely interact anymore. Not a gloomy business by any means: she gets to meet new people and he can enjoy his work and hobbies in peace and without guilt.

Yandere! CEO who doesn't think much of it when his wife brings home a young student she befriended at a convention. He nods dismissively, returning to his papers and phone calls. At dinner, he just hums in acknowledgement and fiddles with the cutlery while the woman talks about you excitedly. "You know, (Y/N) reminds me a little of you." Nonsense.

Yandere! CEO with whom you scarcely interact: he's a borderline workaholic, and your relationship is cordial at best. That is until you're asked by the wife to retrieve some important documents from their ridiculously luxurious apartment. You quietly tiptoe past the office, but can't help glancing at the imposing library, stacked with books. The man's sudden arrival startles and you begin to mumble apologies, but he seems more interested in your curiosity than anything else.

Yandere! CEO who can't believe you both like the same authors. He discreetly removes the folder from your hands, tasking one of the assistants to deliver it to his wife instead. There are more important matters at hand. Have you had your coffee yet? Oh, you must stay longer. What's the hurry?

Yandere! CEO who has become awfully perceptive whenever your name is mentioned in conversations, innocently probing for more details. Naturally, he wouldn't mind meeting you again, but it's not...a need, per se. He was just pleasantly surprised to find someone he could so easily engage in conversation with. Hell, you're old enough to be his daughter. Don't be ridiculous, he'll scold himself sternly whenever his mind wanders too far.

Yandere! CEO who begins to feel like each encounter is a flirty tease. Is it just wishful thinking, or are you becoming cheekier by day? The way you bat your eyelashes, the way you cast your eyes down whenever he looks at you. The next time you're alone in the apartment, he's too far gone in his delusions to act rationally. How unusual for him to act so nonchalant. Unbuttoning your shirt with haste, trailing your neck with hot kisses, lifting your leg and pressing you against the wall. He never considered himself the type to fuck a much younger woman out of raw lust.

Yandere! CEO who loves taking you on dates despite his busy schedule. Art museums, theatres, the Opera. He is eager to introduce you to his interests and will answer any question or curiosity you have. Who would've thought everything is better in two? Of course, there could be other factors involved. Like the added bonus of watching you squirm in your seat and biting your lips to be quiet while he fingers you at the peak of Act 3. Then smirking to himself when everyone stands up for applause, and you have to rearrange your dress to hide the wet mess underneath.

Yandere! CEO who worries about you when he's on work trips, so he tasks his right-hand man to look after you and keep you company. If you ever get lonely, you can rely on his assistant to take care of all your needs. Now, he's not one to share, despite his marital arrangement. As bizarre as it sounds, he just sees the employee as a mere toy, an idle occupation who can temporarily entertain you in his absence. What he does perceive as a threat is swiftly taken care of. It's enough for you to mention another student flirted with you, and you'll never see that person again. You have to understand that he doesn't play around with his assets. One he has something, he holds onto it with ironclad strength. And he's never been more desperate to keep something in his possession.

Yandere! CEO who makes sure to remind you why dating him is your best (and only) choice. You would've wasted your time with boys your age. He can offer you the world and more, all you need to do is ask for it.

[pastelaspirations]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK, I'M SCREAMING. I AM SHAKING YOU AND SCREAMING RIGHT NOW. (Of course, very respectfully and not at all like a deranged lunatic who has just lost their mind)

H O W W W, MAAAN. I c a n ' t. I physically cannot. I am literally surrounded by the fastest artists around, h o w. All of you guys are so speedy, man, I can't keep up, physically or mentally-

I am just. Grabbing you by the shoulders. Staring into your eyes. I just have one question to ask. Just one, teeny lil question.

How did you make them so cute?

LIKE. LOOK AT THEM, MAN. I'M NOT MAKING THIS U P.

Like, yes, yes, we got the full panel of Daisy and it's kind of a given that she's cute. So much so, one might say that it was cheating 'cus she's a literal pupper doggo.

B U T. NAH. YA MADE THE LADS. THE BOIISS. YA MADE THEM SO ADORABLE AND PRECIOUS TOO, I CAN'T- ;_; ;_;

Okay, breathe, I'm not okay. JUST. DAISY IS SO FLOOFY, I CAN SEE THE SASS RADIATING OF ERROR IN THE FIRST SKETCH WHICH IS PERFECT, AND. INK, OH MY GOD, IS JUST THE CUTEST, SHYEST LIL CUTIE PIE EVER-

I am reeling. The height difference in the first sketch. I am not okay. I am ascending. LIKE, I KNOW, I KNOW, THAT'S ALL MY FAULT, I MADE IT THAT WAY. But maaan, I'm sorry, Ink, ya didn't need that but I couldn't resist.

I'm crying. Ya even got Broomie's drip and the Delta Rune symbol on Ink's clasp. Then the freaking patches on Error's coat in the exact location, b r o. You guys' attention to detail is unreal-

Okay, I'm sorry. I'm just. I'm done losing my mind, I swear. YOU GUYS ARE DOING MORE ART OF MY FIC THAN I AM RIGHT NOW. I am cryingg, I'm working on the next chapter, it won't take me eight months, oh my god, I need to keep up with you absolute mad lads, I can't-

Some art I did of @pastelaspirations wonderful fanfic 'Perseverance'!

I loved reading it so much <3

Also why is Error and Daisy so fun to draw-?

I'm gonna go ahead and post these but I have more I'm working on. It's just this fic lives rent free in my head now and I'm worried if I don't post now, I'll never post and it'll just turn into more and more until I don't know what to do with them soooooo ye :3 enjoyyyy ig lol

Full page under the cut (There's no bonus or anything :'3 I just like putting the full thing just in case)

Og Ink and Error belong to comyet and loverofpiggies respectively

[darknight3904]

𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘖𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘋𝘢𝘬𝘰𝘵𝘢, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯.

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 (2017). 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘎𝘦𝘯 𝘝, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘝𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦. 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵 18+

𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥/ 𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 30𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4.8𝘬

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 / 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Laura is kind of cute. In her own feral, mannerless way. You watch as she downs her second slice of pizza.

"She's just like you." You grin and nudge Logan's side

"No, she's not." Logan shook his head

The two of you turn to watch her take a large bite of her third slice. Charles lets out a joy-filled laugh at whatever is on the TV behind you and Logan.

"How many have you had again?" You tease, you're pretty sure he's eaten at least five now. Logan had always had a big appetite. You presumed it had to do with his healing factor.

"Shut up."

Pizza devoured and stomachs full, you make Laura brush her teeth and teach her how to floss properly while Logan and Charles argue on the other side of the bathroom door. Logan is trying to get the old man ready for bed, but out of context the voices coming through the door would be considered rather concerning.

"No! I can pull my own pants off, Logan!" Charles' voice yells

"Do it then!" Logan growls back

"Not with you looking at me!"

"M' not looking!"

Laura looks up at you, concerned for the two men with quite the dynamic.

"They're fine. Don't worry bout' it." You assure her with a thin smile, "Now, it's time for the mouthwash."

You tuck Laura into bed. Initially, you weren't going to but the memories of the video you had watched with Logan invaded your mind again. Images of an even younger Laura on the operating table so adamantium could be fused to her bones. Empathy got the better of you as you brought the covers up to her chin and whispered goodnight.

You returned to the bathroom, intent on showering to see Logan staring at himself in the mirror.

"You okay?" You ask him

"Charles told me I looked like Eeyore," Logan says staring at his face

"Like...from Winnie the Pooh? The depressed donkey?" You ask, slapping your hand over your mouth to keep him from seeing your smile

"Yes. The depressed donkey." Logan huffs

An unlady-like snort escapes your mouth and your eyes widen when Logan's head snaps to look at you.

"S' not funny." He says a scowl on his handsome face.

"No, no it's not...." You take in his appearance, and for a split second, you see the faintest blush on his face.

"She in bed?" Logan asks

"Tucked her in and everything." You confirm

Logan raises a brow at that statement. He must not approve of your actions. It's not your fault your maternal instincts kicked in, after all, Laura was cute, in her own way.

Logan leaves the bathroom after lecturing you on not getting attached to her. That the Sunseeker was the end goal, not playing house with a kid made from his genes. You nodded your head and pushed him out of the way to get to the shower, tired of smelling like sweat and who knows what else.

The endless hot water felt amazing on your tired body as you indulged in the low-quality soap, shampoo, and conditioner that the hotel had bolted to the wall in plastic pump bottles. A heavy sigh left your lips as your eyes fluttered shut in the steam-filled room. Logan was going to drive you mad one day.

Logan closed his eyes and let the night breeze clear his mind. Sitting here on the balcony would be more relaxing without all the passing traffic, but it was good enough for now. Nearly 34 stories up he could still hear the honking of horns and chattering of people. He cursed his enhanced senses. Despite the late hour, the city didn't want to sleep.

He sipped at the bottle of Jack Daniels he had found in the limo under a seat. Miraculously no bullets had punctured it in their getaway. He knew he should be in bed, he needed sleep for the long drive that awaited him tomorrow. Yet, he found himself unable to crawl into bed. And not just because Charles mumbled in his sleep.

The idea of you was plaguing him like it often did. He wasn't blind, he knew about your little crush. He had clocked it a month after settling in Mexico. The way you'd wait at the front door, the hot meals, the questions, the way you'd agreeably become a human pillow and give him the best scalp massage in the world.

He'd be lying to himself if he didn't feel it as well. At first, he thought it was because he was so isolated from the rest of the world. But, he never found himself noticing another woman, not in the Casino today and certainly not in any of the rides he fulfilled for people. Even the stupid bachelorette parties when girls much younger than you flashed their chests to him. No matter how he tried to forget it all, his mind was filled with nothing but you.

Even now, he was sure you were the cause for his lack of sleep. After you pushed him out of the bathroom saying you needed a shower, all he could picture was you. He thought of the way the soap was probably sliding down your body, dripping down your chest that drove him mad and slinking its way between your thighs.

He ran a heavy hand across his face, cursing his mind. Perhaps if he hadn't lost his cool a year ago he might be in the shower with you right now.

Logan wasn't quite sure why he did that. He chalked it up to fear. Fear of accepting your feelings, fear of his own, fear of losing you one day to one of Charles' seizures. You had spent the last year being so curt with him, with short conversations and stolen glances, it was nothing like what he was used to nor what he really wanted. Despite the past 24 hours being shit, he was glad you were warming up to him again. You'd let him comfort you earlier and laughed at the Eeyore comment, something he'd made up in hopes you'd like it.

After all, he couldn't tell you Charles really said that he looked like a dog's ball sack...that would've just been embarrassing.

Logan wondered what he looked like in your eyes. he knew what you looked like in his. And though he'd never admit it, Logan knew what he looked like when he saw you. Charles once coined it after spending twenty minutes talking about Sketchers.

"You look at her like she's hung the moon and the stars, Logan."

He wondered that if he were able to man up one of these days and tell you how he felt. Logan wondered if he'd be able to keep you forever.

The soft sound of the sliding balcony door roused him from his thoughts.

"Hope you're not too drunk yet." You teased motioning to the big bottle of whisky in his hand.

"Barely had two sips." He says

"Yeah, okay old man. And I'm not gonna blow up like some blood balloon one day from my own damn mutation."

It was a joke, he knew that, but it was also reality. One day your mutation would kill you, as would his.

"You ever wonder how it came to this?" Logan asks as you sit beside him

"Like what?" You hum, taking the bottle from him so you can have a sip.

"Sitting around while our own bodies try to kill us," Logan says

Logan watches you let out a soft sigh and examine your hands which are more bruises that actual normal skin.

"I've always thought they tainted the food, or maybe the water with some chemical." You theorize, "Used something that would suppress the x-gene in us."

"Makes sense." He nods, glancing down and wondering if this very bottle of whiskey would make things even worse for the two of you.

Logan's eyes drift to your form. A long white T-shirt, one of his sits on your frame, you must've found it in the limo, he always carried extra clothes with him. He can't tell if you're wearing shorts, hell, he can't even tell if you've got underwear on. He does know it's making his hotel-issued pajama pants a bit tighter than normal. Your hair is dripping onto the shirt, slowly making it a bit see-through even in the dim light. He wants to-

"Laura crawled into bed with Charles. She must've gotten scared while I was showering." You say, pulling him from his thoughts before he could become too perverted.

"I'll sleep on the floor." He finds himself declaring getting up to go make a nest of pillows and blankets for himself

"What?" You question, following him into your room

Logan grabs a couple of pillows and the extra blanket from the closet and tosses them to the floor. No way in hell was he going to be able to sleep next to you with what was running through his mind right now.

"Logan it's a king-size bed, we can share." You groan

"M' fine on the floor." He said

You glance at him, and then the bed, and then his pillows and blankets.

"Do you really hate me that much?" You breathily ask

Fuck.

Logan is unsure of himself as you climb under the covers next to him and flick the lights off. He's 200 years old and he's never felt this nervous around a woman. Jesus, he was going soft.

"Are you breathing over there?" You ask

"What? Oh. Yeah, I'm uh fine." He stutters.

Silence follows for a minute or two and Logan thinks you've fallen asleep.

"Goodnight, Logan." You quietly say

"Goodnight." He whispers back, turning on his side to pretend you're not there.

Twenty minutes pass from Logan bidding you goodnight and you almost think that he's asleep until he calls your name into the darkness.

"Thought you were asleep." You murmur turning to look at his broad back that's turned to you.

"Can't." Logan sighs

"Me either." You say, bolding reaching out and running a hand down where his spine would be under his shirt.

Logan lets out a deep groan and shifts beside you so he's laying on his back.

"Logan...can I-"

As if he's a mind reader, Logan's big arm reaches over and pulls you into his side. You rest your head on his chest as his hand comes to rest on the curve of your hip.

"Don't wait to ask next time, bub."

"Sorry." You whisper into the darkness, hoping he can't hear the smile on your face.

You awake hours later to a deep grunt from Logan filling your ears, the sun slowly rose, peaking through the curtains. His arms are tight around your waist as he holds you from behind. You rub the sleep from your eyes, it had been nearly 8 hours since you had fallen asleep in Logan's arms.

Another grunt fills your ears. At first, you think he might be having a nightmare, as he often did. But, the sudden press of his hips to your ass said differently. Your face grew hot as he pulled you even tighter to him, hips slowly rocking into your body.

"Logan." You whisper, hoping to wake him before something embarrassing happens, "Logan."

It's when you begin to wiggle out of his iron-clad grip that he stirs.

"S' wrong?" He murmurs looking up at you with sleep-filled eyes

"Nothing...it's just." You glance down, trying not to mention the large bulge that tents the soft hotel logo embroidered pajama pants.

"Fuck." Logan curses, pulling the covers up to hide himself, "Sorry."

"It's alright." You say you're sure your face is a million degrees right now. You had always wondered what he might be like in the bedroom yet here you were flustered like some virgin.

You watch as Logan stirs, you expect him to brush past you and into the bathroom to take care of himself. Yet, you find him standing in front of you, lips pressed to yours for the first time in your life.

You whisper his name like a prayer when he pulls away.

"Tell me you don't want me. Say it, and I'll never try again." He says eyes fixed on yours

You answer his question by pressing your lips to his again, weaving your hands through the greying hair you've come to love over the past year.

You break away and trail gentle kisses up his jawline and to his ear.

"I want you."

Logan lets out a deep groan that has your lower stomach tightening with need.

"You got me."

Logan gently pushes you back into bed, your back meets the soft sheets as he climbs on top of you. His lips meet yours again and this time his tongue swipes along your bottom lip. You let him in and arch your hips up, grinding into his bulge that somehow grows even harder.

You smile when he pulls away from the kiss, a breathy moan stuck on his lips as he glares down at you.

"What're you smiling at?"

"Mmm, nothing." You lie

Logan's hands find the bottom of your, his, shirt, and he tugs gently, asking permission.

"It's alright." You confirm

The soft fabric leaves you and the cooler air meets your bare skin. The first rays of sunshine illuminate you as you shyly cross your arms across your chest. His eyes are so intense, you can't help the shyness that bubbles into your throat.

"Knew you weren't wearing any panties." Logan smirks, his bigger hands coming to pulls yours down "Don't need to hide from me, hon."

You nod and drop your arms, hoping he likes what he sees. You wish it were darker out. Your skin has been marred by your mutation. You wouldn't blame him if he left right now.

"Beautiful." Logan murmurs, a hand coming up to gently squeeze at your breast, thumb gently teasing the nipple.

"You don't have to lie." You scoff

"You really think I'm lying?" Logan shakes his head. He takes your hand in his free one and presses it to his crotch, " Does that feel like a lie?"

You blush hotly, not expecting him to be so bold.

"No." You whisper

"Exactly."

His lips press into your skin, and his beard tickles your skin as he kisses a path down your body, stopping to press a gentle kiss to the top of your mound where a soft tuft of hair sits. Suddenly you wished you had shaved last night in the shower.

"Logan...: You gasp when he slips his tongue further south.

His tongue works like magic as it circles your clit and dips inside you. A loud moan tumbles from your lips when he brings his lips up to suck your clit into his mouth.

"Logan please..." You whimper when he breaks away suddenly

"Gotta be quiet, hon. Don't wanna wake anyone up. " He reminds you

You nod and he dips back down. You bite at the back of your hand, praying that your companions are deep sleepers.

Logan's nose bumps your clit as his tongue works its way inside you. Your hips fly off the bed and his strong arms come up to circle your thighs and lock you in place.

Utterly trapped, you're at his mercy now. Completely.

A small whimper passes through your hand and Logan speaks into your cunt.

"C'mon, hon. I got ya...let go"

The mixture of his deep voice and the way his tongue went back to working its magic has you losing your mind. Your hips thrash against his grip as the dam breaks and your eyes slam shut.

Logan presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh before coming back up to you.

"You okay?" He asks

"Okay?" You laugh, "I've never cum that hard before."

"200 years of experience can be helpful." He brags

You roll your eyes and pull at his shirt, wanting to see him.

Scared skin and ripping muscle become visible to you and you have to keep yourself from staring too much as he also sheds his pants.

"Oh." You gulp as you finally get to see him in all his glory.

"Oh." He parrots with a smirk

A big hand comes up to your face and gently runs along your cheek.

"You still okay with this? I'll stop right now, just say the word." Logan says gently

You shake your head, the prospect of stopping would kill you.

"Words. I wanna hear it" He says

His dominant tone has a fresh wave of arousal wetting your thighs as you look up at him.

"I want to keep going." You say

"Good." He smiled pushing you back down to the bed

A gasp escapes your lips when he enters you. He was big, you knew it, you had seen it just seconds ago, yet it still surprised you as he pushed forward.

"Fuck..." Logan gasped above you, his hands gripping the pillows beside you

"Logan." You sigh

"You alright?" He asks softly

You nod enthusiastically. His hips pull backward and your jaw drops into a silent moan as he enters again. His chest hair tickles your own chest as he pumps in and out. Your eyes are wide and you're certain a bit of drool is on your chin as his hand jumps down to rub at your clit.

He's worked up you can tell, his thrusts become rougher as his hand rubs at your clit.

"Where?" Logan rasps

You weigh your options, you truly do. The chances of you getting pregnant were low, your body was so torn to shit it probably couldn't even carry a kid at this point.

"inside." You whisper "Inside me, Logan"

Logan lets out another quiet groan as he speeds up, the prospect of filling you has his hips losing it.

You cry out as you feel yourself cum again. Logan presses his lips to yours swallowing your moans and his own as he fills you. His hips stutter against yours as you run a hand through his hair.

He gently pulls out and before you know it, he's grabbing you by the waist and hauling you on top of him, your chest pressed to his as you lay directly on him.

"Fuck." He sighs

You smile into his chest, fully content despite how sticky you feel.

"You alright?" You ask him, listening to the way his heart races beneath his.

"Should be the one askin' you that." He says, running a hand down your sweaty back.

"I'm alright." You say pressing your cheek into his skin

"You sure? I didn't hurt you?" Logan asks

You sit up slightly to look at him.

"No, you didn't hurt me, Logan." You smile, pressing an assuring kiss to his lips, "I don't think I've ever had sex that amazing before"

Logan lets out a small snort of laughter.

"Good cuz' we can't do that again for a little bit."

You feel disappointment flood your system but you know what he means. You have a long road trip ahead of you, not to mention you're sure he feels exhausted after all that. You yourself feel boneless after all that. If only the two of you were younger.

"Get some rest," Logan murmurs into your hair "Three hours and we gotta go trade that piece of shit limo for something that will make it to North Dakota."

Much to your disappointment, he stays true to his word and wakes you up around nine. Logan tosses a soft towel toward you which lands directly on your face

"Take a quick shower. M' going to find us a ride. " He says

You nod and watch as he moves to get dressed. The towel he has wrapped around his waist soaks up the drops of water that fall from his hair and run down his tanned skin. Tantalizing body hair lines his skin and disappears under the towel, teasing what is hidden underneath.

"Less ogling, more showering." He huffs, dropping the towel to slip into a clean pair of underwear.

You rise to your feet, wrapped in the towel he gave you, and pad over to the bathroom, pretending not to look. Logan lets out a loud grumble when he catches you staring at his ass.

"Nice ass." You compliment, a smirk dancing on your lips.

"I'll drown you in the toilet."

You let out a bark of laughter and close the door. His jokes remind you of the young man you met at the school so many years ago. It seemed like an entirely different universe sometimes, thinking of who he used to be.

You help Charles with a bath after your own shower. It's embarrassing and difficult but you do it. He curses you out at least twenty times but at least he smells better by the end of it all. Then, you set your sights on Laura who avoids eye contact when you tell her to get in the bathroom.

"There is...a huge knot in your hair." You sigh, staring at the girl's head

Laura remains silent of course and picks at the sleeves of the fluffy bathrobe she put on as you try to blow dry her hair. It takes nearly twenty minutes but you're able to work most of it out with your fingers.

"You've gotta use more conditioner next time." You remind her as you flex your fingers.

Laura nods before climbing back into the bed with Charles to watch the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with Charles.

Logan would be back soon. You somehow manage to get Charles into his chair so you could get on the road quicker, you knew Logan was getting antsy. Laura munches on a bag of pretzel sticks that you bought from the vending machine a few floors down.

It's all so domestic. You smile to yourself as Laura mimics Charles who sticks a pretzel between his lips and pretends to smoke it for her entertainment.

"Alright, that's enough." You say, "We're gonna wait for Logan down at the valet."

You were getting nervous, he had been gone for nearly two hours now. You were sure he was perfectly fine but that didn't stop you from worrying.

"Laura grab the stuff from the other room."

You shake two pills out into your hands for Charles.

"Take them," You say

"Do I have to?" He asks sadly looking up at you

"You know what happens when you don't." You sigh, not interested in arguing with him

Charles' hand brushes yours just as the door is kicked down. You hear Laura's loud shout before you see them.

"Don't move." You order Charles as you turn to face the men.

"That blood manipulator is here, boss," One says into his radio on his shoulder

For once you thank Logan for his constant drinking. Miniature whiskey bottles litter the room. Lucky for you, they're glass and will work nicely for what you have planned. You thank the Lord for Johnnie Walker and smash one end of it off the bed frame. The sharp edge glints in the sunlight as you tighten your grip determined not to make the first move on these assholes.

A voice on the radio crackles back, "Transigen wants her DNA. Put er' to sleep."

The sharp buzz of something that sounds very painful and full of enough volts to fry a horse hits your ears.

Three men on your left, two on the right. Where's Laura?

One of the ones on your left makes the first move, he's the one with the overkill taser, that looks more like a cattle prod. You easily grab one end, careful to avoid the volts that light up electric blue. All the gear this man is wearing is making him slow. Johnnie Walker finds a home in this mystery man's neck and he lets out a low gurgle.

Five more men enter the room and you focus in on the blood that's flowing down this man's body and into your hands. A sharp pain dances across your brain but you ignore it.

The radio crackles from this dead man's shoulder, "What the fuck are you doing?! Move!"

Your hands come up and you focus on the blood, sharpening it into the form of a knife, sending one into the closest man's neck. He falls to the ground clutching an open wound that will never close.

You're ready to drop the rest of them, the man on the other end of the radio is still shouting at them all.

"Forget them, Where's the kid?" One man asks

The mention of Laura has your eyes scanning for her, she's nowhere to be found but before you can kill the rest of them, Charles acts first.

An unbelievable surge of energy goes through you. The blood you were controlling slips from your grasp and splatters onto the ground. White hot pain flashes in your brain as you try to turn towards Charles. It's like you've been superglued in place. You watch helplessly as Laura inches towards you, dragging herself across the floor towards you.

The appearance of Logan has you relieved as he makes his way towards you, killing each of your assailants one by one with his claws. Laura hands the syringe off to Logan and almost as quickly as it started, it's over.

You fall backward to the ground, and your lungs heave as they welcome the oxygen they were deprived of. Logan's above you, checking you for any injuries as he barks an order at Laura. And then Logan's scooping you up, bridal style, and carrying you out of the room, whispering that everything was fine. Your hand throbs as Logan rushes to the car, Laura pushing Charles hot on his heels. Your own blood, a rare sight is trickling down your arm, staining the sweatshirt you had demanded yesterday.

Logan places you in the front seat and shoves a wad of napkins at you.

"Get it to clot."

He slams the door shut and goes to help Laura with Charles. You focus on your hand, willing the blood to stop. Your head sends a sharp pain down your spine but it eventually tapers off. The cut, becoming pink and sensitive, it'll be healed in the next day or so.

You spend the next hours in silence on the road. At some point Logan's hand had found a way to your thigh, resting there as he drove.

You twisted around to check on Laura and Charles, both of them were asleep. The car clock read 10:30 PM.

"You gonna let me drive?" You ask Logan

"I'm fine." He says

You sigh, of course, he was planning to drive through the night you truly didn't know how he survived on so little sleep.

"The men back at the hotel today, they were planning on taking me alive." You say to him

"They want your genetic code. Probably want to grow more mutants with it, that's what they did with mine." Logan says, glancing in his mirror at a sleeping Laura.

"Living weapons." You sigh, thinking of all the children in that video.

"What they'd do with your power? Can you imagine some full-powered, mindless zombie, controlling people's blood?" Logan shakes his head.

It's not a pretty picture, what his words conjure in your mind. Some nameless child raised up with the idea that their power is invincible.

"Shit, they'd be able to pop the head off the president's shoulders without even blinking," Logan says

"I get it." You glare at him

You're a long way from full strength. You wonder if you'd even be able to, in Logan's words, "Pop someone's head off". Perhaps the effort would kill you and you'd blow a hole in your own mind. Just earlier today you had struggled, there was once a time you would've been able to cut every one of those men down in less than three seconds.

"Nothing's gonna happen to you. Transigen isn't getting one drop of that blood." Logan assures you, "We're gonna drop her in North Dakota and then buy the Sunseeker."

"I want to be able to drive it every once in awhile." You say

"Yeah?" Logan smiles over at you, "You're not gonna crash it into something?"

"We'll be in the middle of the ocean how would I crash?" You roll your eyes

"Remember that time we went Go-Karting as a team and you jumped a barrier and hit Scott so hard he had whiplash for a week?"

"That was once!" You groan, "Is that why you won't let me drive now?"

Logan's deep laugh fills your ears as he shakes his head.

"That's part of the reason. The other half is that it makes me feel useful. Feel like I'm doing something for you."

You sit up, looking over at him.

"Logan, you are useful. You do things for me all the time."

The headlights of a car passing by on the other side of the road illuminate his tired face.

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Just today you carried me out of the hotel and to the car. Two weeks ago you bought my favorite candy for movie night even though you hate it."

You glance to the backseat making sure Laura and Charles are still asleep.

You lower your voice just in case they wake up, "You literally gave me two of the best orgasms I've ever had this morning."

Even though it was true, you meant it as a joke, but it caught Logan off guard as his laugh turned into a fit of coughs.

"Logan!" You exclaim when his hands let go of the wheel and one of those damn auto trucks nearly runs you off the road.

"What's going on?" Charles and Laura are awake in the backseat again

Logan slows the car down so you're cruising at 45mph. He turns to you, face serious and brows slightly pinched together in anger.

"No more sex jokes."

Part Three

Whenever I write smut, I feel like it doesn't flow as well as my other normal writing. Oh well. Hope you enjoyed this part.

Tags:

@gigabitemyass @1cam8 @personofsinterest @corruptedcruiser @flamingbisexual08

@arrozconpepitoria

@e-ak

@nikos-a-clown

@evanpetersmood

@loganhowlettsboyfriend

@persiar9

@khaylin27

@veggie-eggrolls

[harmonysanreads]

Ratio looks like he'd fold after two genuine compliments and not just ones about his looks or intelligence. Bro would not be able to handle actual genuine words from someone because he's so damn used to hollow words from fans and haters alike (I don't care if this is ooc its true in my heart)

No no, I agree with you.

People tend to take compliments too lightly, let whatever escape their mouths often carelessly. The act of giving compliments can be honed into an art with practice, the gesture of taking them gracefully can be considered as a mark of maturity and class. Simply put, you can tell a lot about a person based on how they give and receive compliments.

The academic field is privy to many kinds of drama. Back-handed compliments thrive in the radius around ‘geniuses’, ‘prodigies’ and the ‘talented’. Unless you hear it from certain people, delivered in very specific tones, you won't even know just how easily positive words can be twisted to feel like insults. Ratio is intimately familiar with this phenomenon.

It took some struggle, reflection, trial and error until he understood the sheer absurdity of the situation. By then, it was more funny than hurtful to him. Oh, the scope of idiocy. Ratio prefers words in communication to be direct and transparent, though he won't deny that nuance and implication have their own charm when used appropriately.

Ratio might not appear so due to his default disposition, but he's actually quite good at complimenting — given that he finds something genuinely admirable about the person. Take his party-joining voicelines about Ruan Mei and Herta for example. But because of the factor that needs to be met to be complimented by the man, his words of appreciation are often posed as statements (e.g. his voiceline about Screwllum). Which could make his compliments hard to believe if you happen to struggle with receiving them.

Now, the first thing that comes to my mind if we're looking for ‘that’ compliment which will be successful in flustering him ; is to try to learn and understand his ideology, values, ambitions and mindset by extension. Difficult task, I know, but studying Veritas Ratio is unavoidable if we're talking about him. Of course, Ratio enjoys studying everything around him even more, so to catch someone this perceptive off-guard is a bit of a challenge.

Well, it's not possible to understand a human in their entirety, so the effort is of greater importance. Observe, question (and don't be dismayed by his sharp comebacks), reflect, apply what you learned and always try to be genuine. There is no way Ratio won't notice honest efforts.

I don't know why but I have this nagging feeling that compliments about his appearance can also do the trick. Perhaps it's because they could've become somewhat scarce since he started using the alabaster head. But don't just randomly go, "You're so handsome! Your eyes are so pretty!" True as they may be, try to point something he hasn't considered or heard, challenge him. “I appreciate the way you maintain your hair. The neatness and your choice of accessory is pleasant to the eyes.” is something that I'd probably go for. This has greater chances of working if you've made a place in his head through the first suggestion, so to say.

And when, after all that hard work, you do succeed — Ratio is a sight to see. If there was some sort of microscope to gauge the transition of human emotions when they receive compliments, it'd paint such an entertaining picture. First is a scintilla of surprise, then you get a flicker of joy which ignites into flames of emotions too jumbled to decipher — Ratio's cheeks and ears will be guilty of letting them escape. If you don't seem to get any coherent response from the scholar even after an interval of patience, just know that Ratio.exe has stopped working.

[creganslover]

Hiiii I’m so happy your request are open but I think a Cregan x reader would be absolutely amazing and. I’m kinda thinking like cregan x reader but they both have children from previous marriages (reader has 4 sons older than 13) and they have more children! I just love the idea of so many chaotic stark children and just there children in general and how her would navigate it! (I also love the idea of the only girls being twins and they look the opposite)

the pack survives, cregan stark x targaryen! AFAB reader

wc: 1.0k

warning/s: mentions of death, suggestive themes, slight violence(?)

note: omg... yes that man is absolutely insatiable, i tweaked it a little bit, i hope you enjoy!

GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

Your marriage to Cregan had been… a wild ride, from both of you being widowed and happen to have children from previous marriages, it was quite the blessing of the Gods that both of your children had easily bonded with one another.

Your sons, older than three and ten, Aeryn and Daemion being the youngest had grown into tough boys, though will take the first chance they would get to butt heads together if given a chance, from where you could only let out an exasperated sigh at.

However, they had seemed to take upon their late father, as they were skilled in swordsmanship, often pairing together to train against other knights. 

Not only that, you have seen how these two boys would vye for the praise of their mother, after the loss of their father in which you were absolutely devastated with, they had now made themselves to look out for you despite their growing tasks and responsibilities, in which you were grateful for, knowing you had raised these children right. 

Now onto Cregan, he had also been widowed, left behind with children of his own as his first wife had died of childbirth, his now eldest Rickon Stark, and his youngest, Brandon Stark. Cregan deep within himself knew the life he had wished to live, Winterfell’s keep to be filled with sounds of his family, of his heirs and his wife by his side, having lived through many winters strong. 

And that’s when he was caught at the first sight of you trying to reign in your two boys from bickering, the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, who had been proposed to marry him, the Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell. 

Fast forward many moons, your sons had immediately bonded with Cregan’s, them being of around the same age a huge aided factor while you had relocated to Winterfell. At first, you were intimidated by Cregan’s presence, or mostly with the thought of loving again, that you had a difficult time opening up to your new husband, and Cregan felt the same, understanding that you both had been recovering from being widowed.

Surely in time, love began to blossom with the two of you, and that soon you had borne twins. Not just any twins, they were two of only your precious girls.

There was Kyra, taking after his father’s Stark features, hair as dark as chestnut brown, eyes matching Cregan’s, with its own tenderness to them. Then was Daena, taking after your Targaryen features, hair as platinum white, eyes of purple, matching your fiery gaze. 

Cregan loved both of them, possibly more than his boys yet he would not dare to voice such a thing. To add to it, Aerys, Daemion, Rickon, and Brandon would treat their only twin sisters the best, except for the brotherly teasing here and there. 

As Kyra and Daena grew, you would be by their side, supplying their curiosity for the world. Cregan often liked to take your sons, with Aerys and Daemion considering Cregan as their second father, and his own out of Winterfell often to bond over hunting or yet taking trips to the Wall where Cregan often reminded them of the importance of responsibility and duty, telling them tales of the North. 

And when they’ve come home, Cregan had always sought you first, greeting you with a tight embrace, lips finding yours, before he would subtly lean in your ear due to his towering size, murmuring of how he’d like to properly reconnect with you later at night, sending your cheeks to fill with heat, a hand coming to smack at his furs, making him chuckle deeply, looking at you with mirth in his eyes that you’ve missed to see the days he was gone. 

Then he would scout for his twin daughters after he shrugs off his cloak and armour, his sheer strength allowing him to lift both your growing toddlers in both his arms, your girls laughing and toying with Cregan’s hair and his growing stubble. 

In turn you would be then greeted by your sons, with you tutting as you messed about them, inspecting if they had any signs of strain or hurt on them, in which they grumble and complain that they were old enough to take care of themselves, but in secret loving the affection from their mother as they boasts about what they had did in their journey. 

“Thus Rickon remains unscathed after wrangling a boar with his own bare hands!” Aeryn nonchalantly commended as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms with a smirk as he just finished getting inspected by you. Your hands froze on Daemion’s cheeks, leading them to be squashed in your hold, Daemion only looking back and forth at his mother and siblings whilst Rickon looked close enough to smack Aeryn on the head. Aeryn then realized his mistake as his chuckle died down and his eyes widened. 

Snapping your gaze to Rickon who was now sheepishly grinning but glaring at Aeryn, you were about to open your mouth when Cregan rounded, letting your daughters finally escape from his loving grasp to bother their brothers. 

“Ah, do not worry, wife, it was just a test of strength, and the boar was a mere size of a fawn at most!” Cregan said, approaching to pat his eldest Rickon on the shoulder. You sighed in relief, letting go of Daemion after a squeeze to his shoulders. “Should have seen him wrestle with it in the mud, it was unbelievable!” Daemion added. 

You looked at Cregan who only shrugged, sporting the same boyish grin you grew to love as he approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around you in which your sons now busied themselves with their little sisters, boasting their tales and trinkets they had bought for them, their voices filling the room. 

A warmth flooded within you, relaxing back into Cregan’s chest as he took in the familiar scent of you, pressing his nose against the side of your head, making you close your eyes, hands resting atop his arms as you turned your head to smile at him. “Do they ever grow tired?” You wonder.

A chuckle, “I do not think so, my wife. Not if there’s another one to follow.” He whispered playfully, rough palm resting atop your stomach through your dress. 

Oh Gods. 

[astrxealis]

one day i will talk about how much ff7 and aerith and cloud and zack and etc mean so much to me

[faeriekit]

A brief snippet of Time/DimensionTravel!Tim (which I found as a draft in my docs)

There was a bell at the door. 

Alfred Pennyworth did nothing as dramatic as to jolt straight upwards in alarm, but he did find himself pausing. After all, there were no deliveries scheduled, and a ring at the door meant that someone had bypassed several of Wayne Manor’s many security measures. 

There was no Mister Wayne present on the premises to make decisions. There was only Alfred, in custody of the home, and the ghost of Waynes long since gone from the home itself. 

There was nothing for it. Alfred quietly retrieved a revolver from its place underneath the wood paneling in the hall and gathered himself for the long walk to the door. 

The closer he drew to the front entrance, the more factors of the situation made themselves known. There was a pounding on the roof, and on exposed windows. It was raining. The night found outside ancient window frames was black, and opaque, and determinably wet. 

Something thumped. Alfred was not entirely sure it was thunder. The revolver in his coat dragged his consciousness back to its weighted body over and over again. 

Finally Alfred made it to the front door. There was a peephole, but Alfred didn’t risk his eye to use it; if there was someone on the other side, it would become obvious that there was an observer if they had elected to peer in as well. No. Instead he reached for a mirror— and, passed on from the mirrored ornaments hung in a nearby window, Alfred could see a single body on the other side of the front door. 

Well. There was one way to determine the man’s motives. Would it were that Alfred wasn’t alone in Wayne Manor at the moment. 

The four locks came undone, a bar, a chain, and two cylinders. It took considerable strength to pry open the doors— a deterrent against possible invaders— but Alfred knew to never look as though one was struggling. The image of strength was often just as important as the ability to achieve in itself. 

Alfred pulled open the door. 

On the other side was a…teenager. Alfred would be hard-pressed to consider the figure “an adult.”

The boy was practically swimming in the rain, with nothing but a thin, black, long-sleeve shirt and soft pants to defend himself with. He was shoeless. He was soaked to the bone. 

Despite that, he was past every security measure around Wayne Manor with no evidence as to how. 

“Good evening,” Alfred greeted the lad, despite the odd hour of eleven forty-five at night. “I am afraid the master of the house isn’t home, despite your trek. I am afraid I will have to ask you to depart.” 

“Alf—” the boy started. And then his teeth clicked shut. Unusual. It was common practice to use knowledge as a weapon against one’s enemies, but rarely did that knowledge include the name of the waitstaff. “My apologies. I didn’t…mean to call on you so late. But I came here to meet with you, Alfred Pennyworth. I come with a proposal.” 

…Alfred had no appropriate response to that. One white-flecked eyebrow rose above the other.

The boy, recognizing Alfred’s disinterest, carefully bowed. His hands came together. His back bent. Depending on what this visitor knew, he may have understood that Alfred was perfectly capable of erasing problems that might arrive with the Manor’s owner’s absence. 

“Information about your,” the boy paused. “...Former ward, in exchange for sanctuary.” 

Alfred did nothing so dramatic as to gasp, but still, his breath hitched in surprise. If the boy noticed, he did not respond; his eyes stayed low, his posture exposing his neck and back. 

No one, not even Alfred, had heard from Master Bruce since his…unwelcome departure from medical school. If this boy knew where the not-quite-so-young Master had vanished…

Alfred’s grip on the door tightened. “I imagine, then, that I ought to ask you inside.”

Shivering, and subservient, the boy rose from his bow to follow him indoors. 

*

The boy looked no larger in a swathe of towels than he had in the rain outside. 

Damp, with wet black hair smeared over his face and clothes clinging to his person, the boy looked no more restored in a wrap of two fluffy guest towels than he had in soaked clothes alone. 

He did not act as though he was an urchin, used to disrespect, happy to be helped. He acted as though he was a serpent in a maze: clinging to walls and wary of windows, and still, ultimately, royal. 

The boy took a swallow of Alfred’s second-best black tea. If there were no witnesses, Alfred would put money towards the prospect that the boy would have chugged the cup down instead. The mug was carefully lowered to the table. 

“...As of three weeks ago, the date was set for Talia al Ghul to marry Bruce Wayne in the custom of her people,” the boy begins. 

Alfred’s mug nearly slipped from his fingers. He said nothing. There was nothing to say. Alfred was no longer his legal guardian— still, if there was to be a marriage, he should have expected to see some sort of notice at least—

“He doesn’t know,” the boy continued, his lips bloodless and cold, “Because no one has told him. The marriage is not legally binding without paperwork, but she will consider it so, and expect him to continue with their union as spouses. Spousal consent is not traditionally considered to be necessary for their union.” 

Alfred’s lips narrowed. “I…see.” His boy had always wanted something more akin to adventure than domestic responsibility. It appeared as though he had found it. 

“He will leave,” the boy said, blue eyes pointed to the ground, “And depending on how she responds, his would-be-wife will either attempt to follow him before she ultimately returns, or she will attempt to keep him there. One will result in a fight, and the other will not, but either way, I would expect him to return to Gotham in, perhaps…anywhere between one to three months from today.”

The aging butler resisted the urge to sigh into his mug. Would it be that his boy had come into possession of better taste in his gallivant overseas. Considering his proclivities, however, he should have expected some form of complicated drama. “How did you come by this information?”

The boy blinked. “Oh,” he said. “I was being trained as his servant. I believe I was meant to be a wedding gift.” 

Alfred’s mug paused midair. “Trained,” he repeated. The boy was…young. Too young to be legitimately employed as a servant. And considering his ill-fated arrival… “In what manner were you trained?” 

The boy fidgeted carefully. Most men might not have noticed. His hand jerked the cup, although not enough for it to spill; he raised one knee over the other, mouth twisting. He did not want to reveal this piece of information; or, he feared the repercussions of doing so.

“Oh, you know,” the boy deflects, eyes cutting across the room. “In the usual arts. Accounting. Organization. Personnel Management. First aide. Anatomy, physiology. Hacking. Infiltration. Firearms. Poisons. Lethal and nonlethal weaponry. Sabotage.” 

Alfred stared. 

The boy’s expression turned sheepish. “...To be fair, Talia really, really thinks she can convince him to join her father’s ninja cult. It won’t work, of course,” he quickly tried to reassure. “But. Um. She is rather convinced she can take his bloodline into her own and indoctrinate him into becoming assassin royalty. And have assassin babies with him.” 

…The mug was set down with a little more force than Alfred might have preferred.