#where did her wings and tail go???

[corvidcrybaby]

taking on Alucard in a Ghoul-killing contest when you're just a rank-and-file soldier (and a bratty one at that) tends to have consequences

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they react to finding you sleeping anywhere but the bed…

Dick: sharing the dog bed with Hayley (fail):

At first he thought something was wrong when he didn’t hear you or Hayley greet him home and soon began to search the spy for you both.

So the moment he finds you fast asleep on Hayley’s dog bed with Hayley tucked closely into your chest, head resting underneath your chin. His heart immeditly melted and his phone was out and taking photos nearly every 0.5 seconds, only until he was forced to stop due to how much storage they took up but he didn’t regret it.

Not one bit. He even has one printed out that he kept on him to look at whenever he felt as though he needed to be reminded of how he had waiting back home for him.

You both were effortlessly cute to Dick, he couldn’t help it but feel a little left out as he then tries to join you in the dog bed, only to almost ends up capsizing the three of you and waking both you and Hayley, who began licking his face as her tail smacks you in the arm repeatedly.

‘What were you trying to do?’ You asked Dick, sitting up.

Dick pouted. ‘Join in the fun.’

‘We were sleeping in a dog bed, how’s that fun.’ You said, not bothering to add the fact that you had accidentally fell asleep on Hayley’s dog bed because you were waiting up for him but failed.

‘Fun to me is wherever you and Hayley are.’ Dick answered truthfully.

You smiled as you kissed his cheek. ‘You’re such a dork, you know that right.’ You told him.

‘Yes. And?’ He says cheekily, more than happy to be home with his little family.

Bruce: in the Batmobile:

Alfred told him where you were and that you best be moved to a more comfortable place then the passenger seat of the Batmobile.

How you got in there was a mystery to both men but what was more impressive was how you could possibly sleep against those hard rich leather seats in the first place.

Bruce couldn’t blow but let out a little chuckle when he opened the side door, just to see you with your face half pressed against the seats before jolting yourself awake.

‘Wha- I didn’t do nothing officer it was the dog.’ You said groggily as you tried to blink the sleep from your eyes as they tried to bring reality into focus.

‘Have a good nap did we?’ Bruce asks, finding some amusement in your half asleep nonsense.

‘Why, who’s asking?’ You replied.

‘Your consciousness.’ Bruce joked sarcastically. ‘Come on let’s get you to bed before you develop a-‘

‘Ow my neck.’ You groaned as you held a hand to your neck the moment you tried to move it.

‘-Crooked neck.’ Bruce sighs as he offers you a hand. ‘Come on, let’s go find Alfred so that we can alleviate you of this pain.’ You pouted as you grabbed onto his hand and letting him pull you out of the Batmobile. ‘Alfred is going to scold me isn’t he?’ You asked. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’ Bruce answered as he helps guide you out of the Batcave.

Alfred’s scoldings were nothing to scoff at, and Bruce would know as he’s been on the receiving end of a few before in the past. After all getting scolded by Alfred was enough to set a stubborn man straight.

‘Damn.’ You muttered.

Damian: in the barn, on top of Goliath:

He didn’t have to look far, he knew you’d be in the barn but what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be fast asleep on top of his demonic dragon bat, whom had draped a protective wing over you as though it were swaddling you in an extremely warm blanket.

He had told you about the story of how he met Goliath and took him home on more then one occasion, as it was secretly his favourite story because it helped him with his own internal struggles on who he should be, and also how his past doesn’t define him, but what he chooses to do in the future does.

So seeing you cuddled up to Goliath without an ounce of care made him smile a little to himself at the prospect of you accepting him for who he was truly, rather than believe what other people viewed him as. You stood out of the crowd rather than follow it and Damian couldn’t be more grateful for you sticking by him, even through the extremely tough times where even he thought he went too far with his outbursts towards you.

‘Tt. Idiot.’ He says affectionately as he walks further into the barn, stopping along the way to pet BatCow and Jerry the Turkey. ‘Aren’t they?’ He asks both animals who only blinked at him as they mindlessly chewed on their food. Damian hums. ‘You’re right, they may be an idiot but they’re still my idiot at the end of the day.’

Damian ends up falling asleep against BatCow’s side as Jerry the Turkey made himself comfortable on his lap.

Jason: kitchen counter:

Him and Roy have a bet on where Jason would find you asleep next.

It had happened way too often for them that they’d hates themselves forever for not making a game out of it at any point in their lives.

This time Roy betted that you’d fall asleep on the kitchen counter, whereas Jason believes you’ll fall asleep against the window sill.

So when Jason got back home late one night after patrol, he immeditly went to look for you at the window sill. Nothing. ‘Damn it Roy.’ He cursed under his breath as he then walked into the kitchen, praying that he wouldn’t have to tell his friend that he won the bet for the eighth consecutive time.

Only for you to be fast asleep on the fucking kitchen counter, just as Roy predicted you would. Jason felt as though his friend was cheating somehow because it didn’t make sense for him to have correctly predicted where you’d be found sleeping as often as he did. Unfortunately for Jason, he couldn’t back up his claim as to why he thought Roy cheated, for there wasn’t any substantial evidence to prove that Roy was cheating.

And so with a heavy heart, Jason walked over and pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling out his phone to text Roy that he has won…again, and pocketing his phone as he carried you off to your shared room. ‘I love you chipmunk but you’ve got to start sleeping in places where I’ll surefire win the bet against Roy next time okay?’ He says against your head, kissing it.

‘Okay. I’ll try.’ You murmured.

‘That’s my baby.’ Jason said as he tucked you into bed before following suit.

The next day, Roy was smirking like a Cheshire Cat as he talked about his eighth consecutive victory, whereas Jason looked about ready to strangle the next person who looked at him funny.

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[writing-fanics]

don’t mess with the devil

Part ii

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

[warning: angst: mentions of death: death?]

Your movements became sluggish. The wound on your side bleeding more and more with each movement, and swing of your angelic weapon. “Can’t even hold a weapon.” Adam mocked, as she glared at him. Already tired and she looked down at her wound. “Who would’ve thought a fucking human, making a deal with the devil.”

“Was it for dick? It was for dick wasn’t it?” Adam laughed, and mocked. You let out a battle cry flying towards him.

You screamed in pain, as the yellow light shot right through your wing. Your wings started going weak, as you struggled to keep up with Adam’s attacks. He laughed and cackled, taking enjoyment in your struggle.

“Where’s your little boyfriend huh?” He mocked, as more and more yellow shots kept hitting your body. Until you could barely keep your body up, “awe, is he not coming to scared to show his fa-”a fist punched, Adam in the face. Causing him to let go of your chin, but you didn’t fall instead.

A pair of familiar arms held you, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t be here sooner,” said Lucifer, as he nuzzled his head against his partner. Then lifted his head and glared at Adam, eyes fuming with rage.

“Sorry, for being so stubborn.” You mumbled, knowing this was the reason he didn’t want you to fight. Even though, he gave you some of his powers. You were still a human. He nuzzled, his head against yours once more. “It’s okay,” He said, as he landed on the rooftop.

He handed you off to Charlie, his daughter taking your injured body into her arms. She looked down at you worriedly, as you took shallow breaths. Your face battered cuts and bruises covered your face, and your right eye was swollen. Landing on the rooftop, walking towards Adam.

“Huh? Okay? Seriously?” Adam panted, as he stood up slowly. “How many of you freaks do I have to fight?!” He shouted, glaring at them.

Lucifer rolled up his sleeves, as he walked towards Adam. “Oh, I’m the only one that matters.” said Lucifer, as he looked up at Adam angrily.

“See, you messed with my daughter and my partner.” his eyes burning with rage. “and now I’m toning to fuck you!” he shouted, and everyone went silent as they stared at him dumbfounded.

Charlie leaned over, “It’s fuck you up dad?” Charlie whispered, and he looked confused as he raised his eyebrow, “Wait what did I say?” He said, and then Adam flew towards him sending them both into a wall. But Lucifer transformed into a white snake.

You could barely keep your eyes open, as the pain became worse. You didn’t know how much blood you were losing, but knew it was a lot. You were just a mere human, a human who fell in love with the king of hell. Him inevitably giving you some of his power in an act of love.

Your memories of how you ended up in Hell, a blur. You still figuring out a way to at least see your family again. But now that seemed to be in vain. You wondered if this was how it was going to end for you. You wondered, what would happen to you a human dying in hell?

Would you be dead forever no second life? Or would you just enter purgatory?

“So, this is what you’ve been up to since Eden?” said Lucifer, taunting him.

“Gotta say, you really let yourself go buddy.” He said, as he taunted Adam.

Adam laughs, as he grabbed Lucifer by the tail. “You judgin’ me?” He shouted angrily, as he tried to throw him. But he transformed again, this time into a duck. “You’re the most hated being in all of creation.” Adam shouted, angrily looking at him.

“Well, your first wife didn’t seem to hate what I had to offer.” said Lucifer, as he made a V shape with his fingers and dragged it downward from his mouth.

“or the second.” He said looking Adam straight in the face, “Bow-chicka-wow-wow.” He said, as he backed away making a thrusting motion with his hips. Adam lunched at him, and Lucifer transformed into a horse. Kicking him around, “I’ll fuckin’ end you!!” Adam shouted.

Your vision started to blur, as you leaned your head against the wall You didn’t want to die not like this, not without seeing your parents again. Wondering if they’re worried about their missing child, who they haven’t seen in almost a year.

You’ve been stuck in Hell for that long. Lucifer and You, still figuring out a way to get you back. But you always promised that you’d stay in Hell with him, and visit your friends and family once in a while.

Maybe this was to be your fate, dying in Hell. Where would your soul go? You couldn’t imagine the heartbreak your death would bring to both, Charlie and Lucifer. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing them cry, you’ve grown to love them so much. Seeing Charlie as a child of your own.

Lucifer your partner. The best thing to ever come out of being trapped in Hell. He was so kind and caring, when he found out about your situation. Wanting to help you anyway he could, which led him to falling in love. How his heart swelled whenever you smiled at him, turning his cheeks red.

How seeing you cry made his heartache, knowing you missed your family and friends back on earth. How when that ‘Red Bastard’ at the Hazbin Hotel, took your hand and kissed him while staring mockingly at Lucifer. Boiled his blood.

A smiled grew across your lips, as you grew tired. You were too tired to even notice the beam of light, heading straight towards the hotel. Towards you. Everything went dark.

Y/n?

Y/n?

Y/n!

who’s calling my name?

[floatyflowers]

Dark Platonic Apollo and Hermes X Child! Reader X Dark Platonic Father Horus

You were flying in the sky cheerfully, disobeying your father, Horus' words as he wanted you to stay at the temple while he had a meeting with his fellow deities.

And you weren't allowed to attend because you are a child, but you didn't mind as it gave you a sniff of freedom from your father's overprotective behaviour.

You enjoy the feeling of moving through clouds, the wings on your back and head helping you ease your way through the sky.

Yet your enjoyment of freedom is cut short when you are grabbed by the back of your wings.

Letting out a squeal, you turn around to be met with the sight of a stranger who is wearing winged sandals and a winged helmet.

"Well, look what we have here brother, a fledging."

Another stranger with flowing golden hair rode on a golden chariot led by fiery horses.

"Did our father bed another mortal?"

Apollo mocks while you try to flee the hold of his half-brother, but his grasp on your wings makes you whimper in discomfort.

Also, you don't know what the two gods are talking about because you don't understand their language.

"Hera would have killed her long ago, maybe we should just bring her with us to Olympus."

Hermes suggests, looking at you mischievously.

"She’s got Horus’ eyes," Apollo remarks, his voice dripping with amusement.

"But those wings… those are something else, do you think she’s even aware of what she is?"

Hermes chuckles in a taunting manner.

"Doubtful. Look at her; she’s just a naive child; she doesn't seem to understand us."

Apollo looks at Hermes, noticing his greedy expression.

The same expression he has on whenever he is thinking about stealing something.

"You know, we could just take the child with us home?" Apollo points out.

Both brothers have toxic traits.

Apollo with his possessive attitude.

And Hermes with his thievery corruption.

When Hermes begins dragging you with Apollo, you decide to finally take it.

A loud chirping wail escapes your human lips.

Apollo winces at the shrillness.

"By the Fates, that sound-"

Hermes, however, only grins wider.

"Interesting, there's power in her voice." He chuckles, shaking his head.

"What a delightful find."

Summoning every ounce of the divine strength coursing through your veins, you flare your wings wide, twisting sharply in Hermes’ grasp.

The sudden movement forces him to loosen his hold, giving you just enough room to snap your teeth at his hand.

Hermes yelps, jerking back.

"She bit me!"

Apollo bursts into laughter.

"You got bested by a child? That's rich!"

Using their distraction, you escape.

Your wings catch the wind, sending you flying downward through the clouds, your heart beating in your ears.

You don’t know where you are, but you know one thing, and that is you need to go back home.

But the gods are not so easily escaped.

"You're fast, little bird, but not fast enough!"

Hermes' voice rings out behind you, and a flicker of movement warns you that he is already on your tail.

You push your wings harder, but even as you move through the endless sky, a new presence makes itself known.

A shadow passes over you.

A large, looming figure...a familiar figure.

The skies tremble as Horus descends.

You fly towards him with tears in your eyes, before hugging him as he covers most of your body with his large left wing.

Horus' heterochromatic eyes glares at the two greek gods.

"We are going to die?" Apollo asks.

"We are going to die" Hermes confirms.

[gghostwriter]

Intruder’s Heist

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 Summary: The inner musings of the amazing Mr Chewie, the good and the bad Trope: Fluff w.c: 1.35k warnings: use of she/her. Told in a cat’s pov (suggested by @avis-writeshq) a/n: part of the nurse neighbor universe (Level-One Intruder) and I had so so much fun writing this. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 not proofread masterlist

There was a lot of changes in his kingdom—the type where he, Mr. Chewie, was still trying to understand.

First, his human had decided to lock him up in the plastic box with no way out for what felt like a century. No matter how much he shouted to be let out, she didn’t so much flinch. How dare she keep him in this cage that’s very much reminiscent of his visits to the strangers who smell like alcohol and other enemies?

It was an ungodly type of betrayal.

After all the good things he had done for her—catch her fresh food, a winged beast (a hard catch if Mr. Chewie could say so himself) and making sure she woke up on time by blocking her air with his newly licked paws (she grumbled after saying it was still at least an hour before breakfast), and this was how he was repaid?

Disgraceful.

Second, his territory was no more. The place his owner now called ‘new home’ was completely foreign to him—it lacked the scent he worked hard to imprint on all corners. It was another jungle he had to explore, memorize, and mark.

Honestly, the only good thing about this ‘new home’ was the mountains of boxes! Oh how Mr Chewie enjoyed the sizing and thickness variety—now, if only he could get them open. At their sides were hanging pieces of unknown that stick to his fur. He didn’t like them. They were challenging and hindering his fun with the boxes. When he tried to attack them, biting or batting away, his human would just giggle at his futile defeat. 

Lastly, his outdoor privileges have been permanently revoked. Mr Chewie hated this—he didn’t approve of these changes. How was he, a perfect but round predator, going to catch extra meals? Now forced into a diet he wanted no part of.

His tail aggressively swished.

Mr. Chewie will not stand by for this.

And so when the perfect opportunity struck, he slithered out the fire escape—never doubting he could fit through the small hole and into the next viable kingdom.

**

The plan had been foiled.

The male stranger, smelling of coffee and books, returned him to his human. Just as well, his territory, void of any entertainment and food, was not good enough for his sensibilities. Although Mr Chewie must admit that his trousers, when he finally presented himself, were nice to rub against. 

He decided he quite liked this human.

And if he was basing it on his human, fretting back in the apartment about her tattered sweatshirt and fluffy pink socks, she quite liked him too.

Interesting.

“Now Mr Chewie,” she confronted him, hands on her waist. “Did you make a mess in the nice Doctor’s apartment?”

He blinked once.

“Did you—” her eyes narrowing “eat something there?”

He licked his lips, remembering the slices of bread he happily gorged on.

She threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. “Well, of course you did. It’s not like I gave you a second helping for dinner, you glutton.”

Meow. Another meal would be great. 

“No I am not giving you a third or fourth helping!”

He didn’t like her reply. He couldn’t help it if he was always hungry, now could he? Never mind she has gotten him regularly dewormed and had even once brought up his state of hunger to a vet hiss, nothing changed. He was still always up for another round of eating and if his human didn’t want to give him another, that’s fine.

He’ll just have to do something about it.

Tail up in the air as he strutted towards the nearest carpet, his eyes tracked her, mumbling under her breath about having to make it up to the handsome doctor and grateful for she had baked a recent batch of human treats that he was never allowed to eat. 

Timing it with her back towards the living room, Mr Chewie promptly threw up on the green carpet.

“Are you serious! Mr. Chewie!” She shrieked. 

Meow. 

His work here is done.

Now, all he had to do was plot out how to bring the male stranger and his human together. After all, having two servants would be more meals, treats, and pets in his cat logic.

**

Meow.

“Hey, good morning!” He whispered, tufts of his head fur sticking out in all directions.

It irked Mr Chewie, does this human not know how to brush himself clean? Tracking the mess both humans left late last night, bags left near the door and pieces of clothes left scattered on the floor, this shouldn’t have surprised him.

Feet softly crossing across the kitchen floor, four paws hot on his trail.

Breakfast time.

“I’ll give you food,” he negotiated. “But you have to promise to not disturb your mom, okay. She had a late night.” 

Meow. That he knew too.

The ungodly shrieks and moans accompanied with a rhythmic thumping plagued the night—Mr Chewie knew what they were doing (even though he no longer had the equipment for it, blame his human for giving him the snip). 

“I really don’t believe the studies about your species now,” hands busy preparing his can of food. “From my experience, you do understand what we’re saying—” he paused, an act he did not appreciate.

Meow.

“—or are you just different from the rest?”

Meow. Of course he’s different. 

He’s one of a kind. 

Plate now on the floor, Mr Chewie swiftly chewed the pate of tuna. If he finished right away, a high chance of second breakfast from her was up for grabs. 

He watched the male work around the apartment, the smell of coffee slowly wafting around the kingdom. He didn’t understand the humans infatuation with the black drink—it’s dark and murky so it must be dirty but why are these two legged creatures such fans? Strange.

Plate clean, the male disappeared behind his least favorite room in the territory, the bathroom. His eyes narrowed remembering the recent bath he did not consent to. She explained it was because of a hanging stool left on his pantaloons but he already had a solution for that, wiping across the floor—something she didn’t appreciate.

“Morning Mr Chewie,” the female cooed, head fur tangled all together. “Have you seen Spencer, by any chance, my boy?”

She titled her head towards his direction. “Ah, he’s in the bathroom. Got it,” picking up the plate, “let’s have some breakfast, what do you say?” 

Meow. Jackpot. 

“Here you go,” she returned the plate on the floor filled with another tuna pate.

She busied herself with preparing their own set of human breakfast, toast and eggs by the smell of it. 

Mr Chewie licked his lips, thinking if there was a way to also steal a bite from them. If she could just read his mind, she’d no doubt call him a glutton like always. 

“Morning,” the male embraced the female from behind, hands on top of one another. “How are you? How do you feel?”

She laughed. “Morning, Spence. I’m great, no worries.”

“I just—” he dropped a kiss on her cheek. “—hope I wasn’t too rough or tired you too much last night.”

“All good, I wasn’t really complaining now, was I?”

He shook his head, leaving another kiss on the other side of her cheek. A set of hazel eyes registering Mr Chewie hunched over his plate again. “Uh—sweetheart, did you happen to feed him breakfast again?”

She paused. “Again?”

“Yeah, I-uh, gave him food as to not disturb you.”

Gasping, his human narrowed her eyes. “Mr Chewie! That’s cheating, my boy!”

Meow. He didn’t understand what she was getting mad for, it wasn’t his fault they were fooled to feed him twice. 

Swaggering away from the crime scene, he perched on top of his tower, surveying his one bedroom kingdom.

Boxes no longer all over the place (except for his lone cardboard box he wouldn’t allow his human to throw away), plastic cage nowhere in sight, and his mother giggling as the male, Spencer as he introduced himself, gift kisses all over her face. 

He huffed. Change wasn’t so bad after all.

There were two of them now. A couple he had to guard, to herd, to—his eyes caught movement outside, is that a bird? 

Mr Chewie chattered, train of thought long forgotten. 

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[delespresso]

DETESTATION ━━ Fiyero x fem!reader

author's note; this was previously titled 'kiss me' lol. i cant lie, i was sort of just winging it with this one — i've been doing a lot of rivals to lovers u guys, my brain is a little confused now 😭 idk if i liked this but i hope its good! <3

prompt; “You can’t just…kiss me to win a fucking argument, [NAME]!” “You’re right…but did it work?” ps; i changed it up a bit, oops

summary; the constant back and forth was totally out of total detestation. . . right?

━━ ☄. *. ⋆

It was the third invite to the Ozdust Ballroom within the month.

Ever since the Winkie Prince showed up at Shiz a few months back, he's been influencing quite a few trips to the scandalocious venue. In fact — he started it immediately on his first day.

She didn't plan on going this time either. Even if the invite had come directly from him, while he was following her tail all over campus.

"C'mon, princess, it'll be fun," Fiyero urged as he walked behind her like a little puppy.

Typically, she refused to even be in his vicinity. With her luck though, somehow Doctor Dillamond decided he needed a tutor to push him through history class — so of course, she was chosen, being the current top student.

"Think of it as me thanking you for helping me ace history," Fiyero continued.

He did, in fact, ace his history after that. A whole A solid.

"For the millionth time, Fiyero, no," she huffed.

He rolled his eyes at another rejection, still following her as they found their way into the dining hall. It was sparse at the moment, they were quite early this time.

"Your welcome for history. But that's it," she added.

She grabbed a tray, starting to put food on it. As she did though, the infuriatingly charming — and annoying — prince stole a piece right out of her plate.

"You should learn to live a little. See the nightlife. Go dancing. We don't live forever, you know?"

She stared up at him as he just went on his little ramble about life.

"If you're worried about a dance partner—"

"I really don't care—"

"I'm sure Boq is very kind to help in that," Fiyero said with a sly smirk.

Respectfully, Boq was nice and cute in a way, but she would much rather drink a tub of toxic elixir.

She could only scoff in response, picking up her tray and finding a seat. Still he refused to let up.

"One night. Its just one night, it really won't kill you," Fiyero insisted.

"It won't, but I might kill you."

She set her tray down with a huff, but she didn't get the chance to sit yet before he was pestering her again.

"I've lived quite well, I wouldn't mind dying at your hands," he shrugged.

"Are you serious right now?" she scoffed. "I have a fork and knife an inch away from my hands, don't tempt me."

"Oh, how horrifying," he mock gasped.

Oh, this little—

"Truthfully, I find a death by my history tutor to be a beautiful exit," he continued with a smug grin.

"You have no sense of self preservation. My hands would be a painful way to die," she retorted.

He didn't miss a beat, grabbing her hands in his in such an oddly gentle manner that had her brain crashing for a moment.

"These soft hands? I find that hard to believe."

She blinked rapidly, just staring at the way he held her hands to his chest for no reason. Why was her head spinning? Why was her pulse rushing?

"You're infuriating," she managed to hiss as she pulled her hands away.

Really, she had no idea why this man annoyed her so much. She felt an irrational amount of irritation when he was around. Her head would sometimes go empty when she looked at him, her heart suddenly going too fast and her stomach feeling like it was floating.

Dislike. Pure, utter, dislike. Loathing, perhaps. Detestation.

Those were the only acceptable answers.

She ended up taking her lunch to go, bringing it with her to eat somewhere else where she could escape him.

"Come dancing tonight!" he tried again even as she stomped away from him and replied over without turning back.

"Eat grass!"

It was her roommate that dragged her to the Ozdust Ballroom that night. No one else.

Certainly not the persistent, annoyingly handsome prince. No.

She allowed herself to have fun for a while, dancing around with her roommate. She didn't catch a single glimpse of him so she assumed he bailed.

She would be absolutely wrong when she ended up twirling right into his arms.

Fiyero's hands were on her waist, keeping her right there as her hands ended up on his biceps. He grinned down at her, that casual and laidback smile he always had.

"You came."

"Not because of you."

He chuckled at her quick defensiveness. It was cute to him. Taking her hand, he gave her a quick whirl before pulling her close again.

"Of course not," he agreed.

"Plenty of other reasons to come to a party," she nodded.

"Mhm."

"Nice ambience, people in nice outfits," she started to list aimlessly.

"Yes, they do dress up nice," he continued to agree.

"Good music, exceptional dancing—"

"You dance well."

"Random excuse to dress myself up too—"

"You look lovely."

"The lights are quite nice too, all blueish—"

She didn't get the chance to keep yapping when suddenly a pair of warm lips were on hers. It felt like she was on fire. A good kind of fire. When she opened her eyes again and their lips parted, she met his gaze under the lights.

Her lips were parted, her breath catching. Her face was definitely flushing and Oz— her head was reeling. She was too flustered she ended up fumbling her words.

"You can't just kiss me to win an argument, Fiyero!"

He laughed at her reaction. In hindsight, he should've probably not do it out of nowhere. But her reaction was priceless.

"Yeah, probably not. But it shut you up," he mused.

She stared up at him, eyes wide as she was clearly baffled.

"You need to stop finding excuses, princess," he teased, giving her yet another whirl.

Her dress flared out before she ended up back with him, flush against his chest. Whatever she felt for him was strong. Though she was starting to suspect it wasn't actually detestation.

She'd likely been in denial.

"You need to not kiss someone without permission," she retorted anyway.

Fiyero only smiled, but at least he nodded sincerely with a bit of a shrug.

"Fair enough. Sorry," he agreed. "Can I have a redo?"

She raised a single brow up at him, this time catching up with the dance way better than when she initially ended up in his arms. A coy, almost teasing smile pulled on her lips as she casually ended up leading the dance.

"Let's see your dancing first, Winkie Prince."

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[areyouwell]

Logan x angel!reader where the reader had to get medical treatment after a mission because her angel wings (that are apart of her mutation) were burned and partially damaged after battle, and Logan comes in to check up on her?

Tattered

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Word count: 10K

A/N: first request! so i definitely took some creative license with this... i sort of just kept adding scenes and ideas but this concept was so fierce boots i couldn't help myself. hope this is what you have in mind <3 i have also elected, from now onwards, not to use warnings on my fics unless there's explicit content in which case it will simply just have MDNI in red.

I don't have a taglist for like, oneshots or requests rn so lmk if anyone would like to be added :)

“Watch your six, Icarus!” Scott’s voice crackled from your earpiece as you swooped over the battlefield, the feathers in your wings fluttering in the wind. Glancing behind back, you realised why Scott had alerted you, three drones tailed you with six red dots seeking out your presence. Fuck, this wasn’t good. Why did nothing ever go right? Why were there always fucking complications?

You tucked your wings in tight against your back as you joined the rest of the team inside the Blackbird. You’d always been conscious of how much room you often took up, and whilst your mutation was your pride and joy, it was a common occurrence to feel a little self conscious when trying to cram multiple people into a tight space. You never occupied any of the seats in the cockpit, your wings wouldn’t allow it, and it was never comfortable for you anyway, the way they would shift and bend at unnatural angles meant you’d constantly be shuffling around to stop the awkward ache in your shoulder blades.

Icarus. That was your name. Well, not your name, but that’s what they called you on account of your gleaming golden feathers. You thought it was a little mean, to be honest. You had no intention of flying too close to the sun anytime soon, but alas, you were stuck with it, and over time, you’d come to appreciate it. They weren’t far off anyway. You did have grand ideals, and dreams to become something more than just a freedom fighter. You wanted to change the world and make it a safer place where humans and mutants could live in harmony. You knew a lot of the hard graft was political, and Hank was doing wonders for mutant reputation, but you still would like to contribute something other than stopping mutant slave trades and taking down illegal, anti-mutant organisations. 

That was the mission today. Some hate-crazed fuck had been building some kind of drone that could target the mutant gene. Kind of like the sentinels from years ago, but they’d been discontinued.

Thank fuck. 

The muscles in your shoulders tensed slightly as Ororo and Logan finally joined the rest of you, deep in conversation about the inevitable upcoming battle. You tucked yourself further into the wall, cursing lowly as you hit your head against the steel. 

Your relationship with Logan was… complicated, to say the least. The two of you instantly clicked when you met, finding yourself at ease with his gruff, surprisingly playful demeanour. You guessed he must have felt the same, since you noticed he would often seek you out during breaktimes, or take the seat next to you during meetings, sending you looks whenever Scott said something particularly leader-ish. You’d have to bite back a smile and attempt to keep your serious composure, lest anyone would think you weren’t taking the meeting seriously. 

And then there was the night things shifted between you. It was late, possibly early hours of the morning. Your muscles ached from being unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in, the beds not exactly being tailored to suit those with extra limbs, and with a huff of irritation, you’d given up to head downstairs and fix yourself an Irish coffee. And whilst there was a serious lack of Irish whiskey in the school, you knew Logan had a bottle of bourbon hiding somewhere in the cupboards, out of reach for most of the younger kids. 

You’d managed to clamber up onto the counter, perched precariously on the edge as you rifled around the top shelf, pulling down various unused cooking equipment before you finally came across the liquid gold. With a triumphant smile, you reached in further to wrap your fingers around the neck of the bottle, delicately pulling it from the depths of the cupboard. Only, it was stuck. 

The screw top kept scraping against the top of the cupboard, and you grit your teeth as your fruitless yanking sent pots and pans clattering against each other. You seriously didn’t want to wake anyone only to have them come down and find you up on your knees, balancing on the thin space of the counter, elbow deep in the top cupboard and frantically pulling at a bottle of whiskey. Fuck knows what kind of an impression that would give, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the correct one. 

Flaring your wings for balance, you completely misjudged the tips of your wingspan, knocking over an empty can of baked beans and sending it rolling onto the floor with a loud, deafening clang. You froze, attempting to quiet your breathing whilst you waited for the telltale sound of footsteps or the annoyed slam of a bedroom door. But your intense listening found nothing, the halls of the school blissfully quiet as you loosened your held breath. 

Nothing. Everyone was still asleep.

You turned your attention back to the stubborn bottle, this time trying to gently manoeuvre it around the baking bowls and saucepans, teasing it from the small little hiding place like you would a scared child. 

“Come… on.” You hissed with effort, finally freeing your vice from its trap with a final, harsh tug. Only, it was a little harsher than you’d have liked it to be. You grabbed the handle of the cupboard to your left to hold your balance, only for the door to swing open and provide absolutely no stability whatsoever. 

You felt yourself fall backwards with a frantic, whispered curse, swinging with the cupboard door, and resigned yourself to the sore back you’d get from falling to the floor. Or, at least, you would have fallen to the floor, if it hadn’t been for the sudden appearance of a warm palm at the centre of your spine. 

“Rough–” 

You yelped at the unexpected voice behind you, you entire body jumping as if you were shocked by a socket. 

“Stop screaming, it’s me,” Logan soothed with no small degree of subdued amusement. “Rough night?”

It wasn’t like he was asleep, more like dozing when he heard the soft padding of footsteps pass his door and head down the stairs. Knowing it was you, he assumed you’d just woken up thirsty and were heading down for a glass of water. His assumption proved incorrect when the clattering of pans and the clang of something hitting the floor broke the steady silence, and curiosity won over when he decided to investigate just exactly what it was you were doing. 

What he wasn’t expecting was to find you clinging onto the cupboards for dear life, his bottle of whiskey clutched in one stubborn hand and your other gripping the open door of the shelf next to you. And it was pure instinct to lunge forward and steady you before you fell to the floor, though in the following moments, he convinced himself it was purely because he didn’t want you to wake up anyone else.

“What?” You asked in bewilderment, turning your head to see his brow raise at the bottle you had in your white knuckle grip. How the hell hadn’t you heard him? You’d stayed silent for at least five minutes before resuming your attempts to pull the bottle out. How the hell had he managed to still creep up on you?

“It’s two in the mornin’ and you’re makin’ a grab for whiskey. So, rough night?” He asked again, moving his hands from your back to your waist, steadying you as you clambered down from the countertop, and he did his best to ignore the feeling of your warm skin seeping through the thin nightshirt you were wearing. At least you were wearing shorts. Though, he counted that as both a blessing and a curse. 

He liked you. Despite trying to gaslight himself otherwise, there were times when he truly couldn’t deny it. And this time was one of them. You looked a little dishevelled, hair slightly frizzy and out of place from tossing and turning, and it was one of the rare times he’d seen you without any makeup on. You never wore a lot, just enough to accent your already glowing features and cover any blemishes he thought you had no reason to feel self-conscious about. 

You were so perfectly yourself, it was tricky for him not to fall in love with you.

Not that he had, of course. This was just a surface-level crush…

Yeah. Totally.

“You uh, yeah, you could say that. One of those nights, ya know?” You offered a small, slightly dejected smile, and his heart bled slightly. He knew. More than he could say, he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You plannin’ on drinking yourself to sleep?” He asked with wry suspicion as you leaned against the counter, placing his bottle next to the kettle you still needed to flip on. 

“The opposite, actually. Wanted to fix myself an Irish coffee. Seeing as I’m not sleeping tonight, might as well stay up.” You shrugged, finding the willpower to turn away from him and grab the ground coffee from the lower cupboard. Thankfully, it didn’t put up the same kind of fight as the bottle. 

It was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the electricity humming from where his hands were still against your waist, though his grip was lighter than when he’d helped you down. It truly wasn’t decent to detail the things you were thinking at that moment, and you had to force yourself to think of unsexy things. 

“We have a mission in two days and you’re pullin’ an all-nighter?” He asked, his brows pinching in badly concealed concern. Your heavy sigh did nothing to quench his worry.

“What’m I supposed to do? You try sleeping in a bed that’s too small with wings that stretch to either side of the room,” You huffed, flicking down the switch on the kettle and spooning a good two heaps of coffee grounds into the cafetiere. “Doesn’t matter what position. On my back or my side, shit’s so fucking uncomfortable it almost hurts.” 

“Why not sleep on your front?”

You snapped back to look at him, eyes hardening to steel. “No. Never sleep on my front.”

You’d said it with so much force he almost reeled back. There was a story there, there had to be, for you to clap back at him with such a bite there was no way it was just a personal preference. You hadn’t really told anyone about your life before the school, but from the bare snippets he’d heard from Charles, it wasn’t exactly how anyone would describe as happy. And there was fear behind that steel. Vulnerability. 

Logan sighed, leaning across you to flip the switch back up, stopping the kettle from boiling. You gaped indignantly, and before you could ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing, he spoke before you.

“Sleep with me.”

You choked, eyes blowing wide with shock. “I… what?”

Logan rolled his eyes, unable to tame the crooked curl of his lips at your complete one-eighty from irritation to stupefaction, even the feathers of your wings had puffed out slightly. “Not like that, freak,” although I wouldn’t be opposed. “Just… for company. Might help, s’all.” He offered quietly, and a blanket of realisation settled in your chest. He was awake too. It had only just occurred to you. He hadn’t been sleeping. He didn’t even look like he’d been sleeping. And it made more sense in your head for him to offer if it was something that could benefit both of you. 

It seemed highly unlikely he was offering just for you. Right?

“You sure? Don’t wanna like, intrude on your space or anything…” 

“Not intrudin’ if I offer,” he reasoned, and you guessed you couldn’t argue with that. With a heavy sigh, you looked back to the bottle of whiskey you’d fought wars to obtain, realising now that the whole cupboard situation had been for nothing. 

“All that effort,” you pouted comically, and Logan huffed a smile.

“I’ll put it somewhere easier next time. C’mon.” He nudged you before grabbing the bottle and returning it to the top shelf. You cursed his stupid height and the fact that he wasn’t down earlier. He could have retrieved it for you with so much less effort. But at the same time… if he had…

You wouldn’t be where you are now. 

You followed him back up the stairs, taking a left to the door only a few down from your own. You didn’t quite know how sleeping in the presence of someone else would help, but you were not about to say no to sleeping by his side. It wasn’t like this was something you’d thought about. At great length. And in great detail.

And this certainly wasn’t a scenario he’d entertained far too many times to count. 

Though upon seeing the double bed, that same self-conscious feeling reared its ugly head. There was no way you weren’t going to disturb him. You could barely find comfort in your own bed of the same size, let alone trying to sleep with someone else taking up space. You hesitated in the doorway, and Logan turned back to you, his head quirking to the side. 

“You ‘kay?”

“Yeah… s’just– are you sure I’m not gonna disturb you? Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I take up a bit more room than other people…” you extended your wings in emphasis, barely able to stretch them to half their wingspan before the side of the closet and the wall stopped you. Logan breathed a soft smile, and you felt yourself shrink slightly. 

“I’ll be fine, just get in.”

You huffed in resignation, tucking the feathers close into your back and crossing to the other side of the bed, unable to stop thinking about how ridiculous this was. You really should just get the fuck over yourself and go back to your room. How tricky was sleeping on your front anyway? Maybe this time you wouldn’t wake up with a panic attack and you were just being dramatic this whole time. You were fine. It really wasn’t that deep. You didn’t want to disturb him just because you couldn’t get over some stupid fucking fear. This was–

“Christ, I’m not even a telepath and I can hear ya thinkin’. It’s fine, sweetheart. You’re fine.” He implored, throwing back the covers for you to take up the space next to him, but you continued to hesitate. “You want a written invitation or somethin’? Get your ass in bed.”

“Alright, jeez…” you pursed your lips to stop yourself from smiling at his smartass comment, keeping your wings firmly against your back as you shuffled beneath the covers by his side, careful not to take up too much room. Your shoulder started to cramp up slightly, but there was no way you were about to release the tension in your muscles until you were sure he was asleep. 

Pulling the covers up to your neck as best you could, you scooted down until your head hit the pillow, shifting in yet another attempt to ease the ache in your back. You hadn’t noticed he’d turned on his side to face you until you looked back ahead and were suddenly met with his flat look of exasperation.

“Seriously?”

“What?” Your voice raised into a pitch of innocence, and Logan barely managed to suppress his eye roll of sarcasm. 

“The point was for you to be comfortable.”

“I am comfortable!”

“As comfortable as someone would be whilst constantly tensing, yeah?”

“Logan, if I don’t, you’ll wake up with feathers in your nose.”

He snorted a laugh, and you giggled slightly along with him. “You look ridiculous.”

You gaped in mock offence. “Hey!”

“Come ‘ere…” in one swift movement, you were dragged from your position on your side, and he turned the both of you until you were settled on his chest. Panic swirled in your mind as your back was exposed to the room, until a steady hand soothed your racing pulse against your spine, in the space between your wings. You felt comfort dampen your anxiety, breathing deeply into the dip between his collarbone and neck, exhaling a shaky breath. You let the seconds tick by, expecting yourself to start gasping rapidly at any moment. But the longer your heart stayed settled, the more you realised this might actually work. “Y’okay?” He asked quietly, and you nodded against his chest.

“Yeah… just surprised. Usually, I’d be thinking I’m about to die by this point,” you half-joked, and though you couldn’t see him, Logan’s brows pinched in empathy. What the hell had happened to you before joining the team? Finding the school? His fingers slowly grazed through the short, fluffy feathers at the base of your wings, carding through the stiff joints. He watched in mild amusement as you shivered slightly, those feathers puffing out and shuddering at his touch. He lightly dug his fingers into the hard muscles around the joint, and you had to clamp your mouth shut to stop yourself from sighing in release. You hadn’t realised just how much strain it was to constantly keep them tight against your back, and whilst it had proven useful to build up the muscle, it had also resulted in some nasty knots. 

Achingly slowly, your wings started to relax, heavy, hollow bones coming to rest across his body, wingtips grazing the floors on either side of the bed as you blanketed the both of you in a soft, warm embrace. Your eyes started to grow tired, lids drooping with each gentle caress of his fingers across your back. 

“Sleep, angel. ‘M here. You’re safe.” He whispered, and you didn’t have the energy to contemplate the fact he’d just used two new pet names for you. If you weren’t so damn tired, your insides would have exploded with butterflies by now, but the siren call of sleep lulled you into a sense of security, and with his steady heartbeat your lullaby, you gave in to the soft pull of rest. 

That was the night things changed between you. The day after he would barely leave your side, sticking by you throughout the morning, taking the seat next to you in the pre-mission meeting that same evening, sending you quick glances that he’d cut short whenever your eyes met. And it was the same when he entered the Blackbird, with you tucked tight against the wall. His eyes found you instantly, lips carving into a gentle smile, his hand falling to your shoulder as he walked past you. You savoured the touch, missing the contact when his hand fell back to his side, still deep in conversation with Ororo. 

“Do you want to fly above us, Icarus? Might be more comfortable,” Scott asked from where he’d taken his seat at the front of the jet, his head turning back to look at you through his glasses. You knew what he meant. There was only so much room in the Blackbird, and despite your best efforts, you were taking up a considerable amount. You took a moment to think, weighing up your options. And whilst you loved the freedom of flying, you couldn’t help but think it was a backhanded way of asking you to stop taking up so much room. He may not have meant it that way, but that’s just how it felt. 

“Uh, sure. Yeah, might be better…” You mumbled with a shrug, trying in vain to stop the hot shame from flushing your cheeks. 

Logan’s jaw tensed, his teeth grinding together, the sound resonating through his skull. He’d been trying so damn hard to get you to loosen up about your wings. And whilst he found it difficult to properly articulate just how gorgeous he thought they were, he thought he was finally making some progress after the last two days. So the way Scott insensitively asked you to fly instead of taking the jet wound him up. 

“Only if it would be better for you. Don’t do it just cuz ya think it’ll be more comfortable for everyone else,” he ground out with a pointed look to Scott, whose brows furrowed in brief confusion before his mouth fell open in horror.

“Shit, no that’s not what I meant! I just thought–”

“It’s fine, Scott,” you tried placating the panicking Cyclops. “I need to stretch them out before the mission anyway.” You smiled a liar's smile, hoping he wouldn’t see through the façade and into your genuine hurt before turning on your heel to head back down the ramp. You managed to make it roughly halfway before a hand caught your arm, stopping you short. 

“You’re not doin’ this cuz of these, right?” Logan asked, gesturing to your wings with his head, his eyes searching your expression as if he was looking to peer right through you. You offered him the same smile you gave Scott, and whilst it worked to settle Cyclops, it only served to broaden Logan’s concern. 

“Nah, I really do need to stretch them out, feeling kinda stiff today so it’s not a problem.” You said brazenly, shrugging off his concerns with faux confidence. You knew it didn’t work when his expression didn’t shift, his hand tightening slightly around your arm. You sighed, defeated. “It’s fine, Logan. Everyone’ll be more comfortable like this anyway, myself included. I won’t feel like I’m–”

“If you finish that sentence with ‘in the way’ I’ll throw you off the jet myself.” He borderline growled, and you tensed your jaw in slight irritation. Couldn’t he just let you have this? Couldn’t he just let you do this one thing to make everyone’s lives more comfortable? Why did he have to be so damn stubborn?

“Just… drop it, yeah? I’ll see you guys when we get there.” You bit, almost snatching your arm from his grip and continuing down the ramp, crouching low when you reached the bottom and launching into the skies, your wings beating hard as cold wind whipped your face. All Logan could do was watch you go, regret piercing his chest as the sound of your wings receded into the night sky. 

And that was how you found yourself already airborne when Scott’s voice crackled through your earpiece, the low hum of those three drones on your tail like the toll of death, the rapid beeping of target systems an accompaniment to the symphony. Tucking one of your wings in tight, you fell into a sharp stoop, panic rising in your chest as they followed you down. The hissing release of metal combined with the sudden roar of a rocket told you at least one of them had fired on you. You flared your wings, catching the air like a feathered parachute as you levelled out quickly, the missile shooting past you and into the ground below. The heat from the explosion fanned your face as you whipped around the wreckage of a building, those three drones still hot on your trail.

Logan looked up as you soared above, his claws drenched in blood as he yanked them out the helmet of some unfortunate soldier who’d made the mistake of thinking he could take on The Wolverine. His heart raced in his throat as those six dots wouldn’t stray from your body, drones expertly following your manoeuvres, mimicking every duck and dive, narrowly missing the corners of buildings and rising flames. Ororo’s voice crackled in his own earpiece, her tone frantic. 

“Icarus you gotta shake them!”

“NO SHIT!”

He almost winced at the panic in your voice, snapping back at Storm in a way he’d never heard you do before. Casting a quick glance to his surroundings, he saw Scott with his fingers braced on his glasses, beams of white-hot energy streaking the battlefield as he picked off one guard after another. 

“Scott!” He called, his legs pounding the ground as he ran over, slicing through the gut of a nameless, faceless soldier who stood in his way before he jogged to a stop. “Think you can get a clear shot?” He asked, his words rushed as his gaze returned to the skies, another explosion booming bright before you raced around the corner of the main building. 

“They’re moving too fast and it’s too much of a risk.” Scott called back over the din of battle, the crackle and boom of thunder overhead striking the earth with expert precision as Storm unleashed yet another bolt from the clouds above. A little too close to you for comfort. 

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as you levelled out, those tenacious six red dots still focused solely on your racing form, your wings beating and dipping with every expert manoeuvre as you once again swooped from sight. But it still wasn’t enough. 

“Lead the shot.”

“What?”

“Lead the damn shot, Scott. She’ll be comin’ back round, it’s a pattern. Just do it.” He almost pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. He knew you only had precious seconds before those missiles would fire again, and you couldn’t outrun them forever.

You crested back around the ruins of the facility, and it was only due to his enhanced sight could he see your confidence wavering, your jaw tense with concentration, though your eyes were blown wide with panic. 

The beep of the target systems increased rapidly, before blending into one long note. And it was like time came to a slow crawl. A puff of silver gas erupted from the base of the drone, a pinpoint missile dropping from the small hold to hone in on your location before Scott had a chance to take it out. 

Switching targets, Scott moved his head to the side slightly, leading the shot as Logan had said, the beam of pure, red and white hot energy shot from his glasses, quick as a blink. And for one, blissfully ignorant moment, Logan thought they’d succeeded.

But the missile was too close. The moment the pure energy collided with the steel casing, a ball of furnace orange flame and thick black smoke lit the sky. Before you had time to think, searing agony jolted your back, hellfire burning your shoulders and wings as you were thrust forward, losing control of your trajectory. Panic gripped your heart as you tried in vain to regain your altitude, but your wings weren’t responding. The stench of burning feathers and flesh singed your nose as you went down, caught up in the explosion between Scott’s beam and the missile. 

Wind roared in your ears, whipping your hair as you descended, flailing and spiralling, to the ground, trees and ruin rising to bring your fall, and your life, to a sharp end. 

“STORM!”

“ICARUS!”

Two indistinguishable voices exploded in your ears, deafening you over the din of death. You knew this was most likely it. This was most likely the end, but you felt numb peace as the wind kept you company, wrapping around you almost like a blanket as you braced your arms against your chest, pain splitting your body and mind as the open rooftop of a ruined house ripped through your suit and flesh as you struck the ground, knowing nothing more than darkness.

“No…” Logan whispered, his entire world coming to an abrupt halt as you descended past his line of vision, a cloud of black dust rolling from the wreckage of a home. You weren’t dead. You couldn’t be dead. He was moving before he’d even registered it, racing across blackened bodies and charred remains of structures. His throat tore with repeated cries of your name, pushing past collapsed beams and splinters of wood, shoving aside wrecked furniture and broken decor before he saw you.

Lifeless.

In a pool of your own blood. 

Your leg lay in an unnatural angle, your wings charred and broken, your wrist twisted in a way he knew it really shouldn’t be. His blood turned to ice in his veins, face blanching as he couldn’t see the rise and fall of your chest beneath the shrapnel and dust covering you. A jagged wooden spike protruded from the dip between your shoulder and your chest, the entry wound somewhere on your back.

He had to check if you were still alive, but he couldn't move, finding himself frozen in place. He couldn't lose you. Not when he was finally putting the foundations down for your relationship. He couldn't lose you now… 

But seeing your body broken like this… there was no way you could have survived that fall, even with Ororo’s help. She tried to slow your descent too late, a gust of wind appearing from nowhere to catch you just a second after she should have. Maybe you’d still be alive if she'd succeeded. Maybe you’d still be here if he hadn't asked Scott to shoot those fucking drones.

Maybe…

“Fuck! Icarus! Icarus can you hear me?” Storm rushed past him, followed by a horrified Cyclops, and if Logan could focus on anything other than your twisted limbs, he'd see the overwhelming sense of guilt on his face. 

Ororo pushes off the splinters of wood and debris from your body, her movements hurried yet careful, terrified of moving you too much. She placed two trembling fingers against the side of your neck and waited. 

And waited. 

And waited…

Logan thought the moment would never end, silence blanketing the ruined room as the three of them could do nothing but watch, Jean quietly placing a hand on Scott's shoulder. 

“There's a pulse!” Storm cried, a sob of relief erupting from her throat as Jean rushed forward, her hands ghosting the top of your body. 

You were alive. Alive. How the fuck had you survived that? There was no way you could have survived that. You fell from over two hundred feet, how the fuck–

“We need to stabilise her. She's lost a lot of blood and it hasn't stopped. Can you tell what the damage is?” Storm turned to Jean, hoping her telekinesis could find something, anything that would provide more information. 

“Broken ribs, her lung is punctured, I think she's bleeding internally and we can’t remove this or she’ll bleed out… I can't do shit out here, we need to get her back to the school. Now.” Jean's voice took on a tone of authority, spurring Scott back into action, but Logan was still paralysed. It was only two nights ago you were sound asleep on his chest, only yesterday he couldn’t stand being further than two feet from you. 

Logan…

You were alive, but how long for? Was he just given false hope, only to lose you on the way? On the operating table? How much longer did you have? How much longer did he have?

“Logan…”

He wanted to blame Scott. Fuck, he wished he could blame Scott. But the truth was, he asked him to take them out. He was the one who asked if he had a shot. He was the one who coerced him to take it. Would you have been okay? Would you have been able to shake them on your own? Had he single-handedly brought on your fall?

“LOGAN!”

Logan blinked rapidly, eyes burning from how long he was staring, unblinkingly, at your broken body. Numbly, he tore his gaze from you and over to Ororo, and though her brows were pinched in concern, her eyes were hard with determination. 

“I know, but if we wait any longer, we’ll lose her. Think you can clear Jean a path?” She glanced pointedly to the rubble somewhat blocking the doorway, and it took him another second before forcing his body to move, nodding wordlessly to Ororo’s orders. He wasn’t usually one to just mindlessly obey, but he wasn’t able to think straight at the moment and was honestly thankful for the others taking charge. 

He was strong at the best of times, but self-hatred fuelled his arms to work overtime, shoving away impossibly large beams and collapsed part of the wall before there was a clear path for Jean to levitate you through. Your smouldering wings dragged along the ground, tattered and torn, gathering dust and grime along the bloodied tips. Only now had could he get a glimpse of your back, the worst of the damage caking your shoulders and wing joints in blackened crimson. Feathers had burned away, leaving your mutation raw and weeping. You didn’t know what he was talking to Ororo about on the walk to the jet. You didn’t know he was asking her if you had a favourite food, or colour, or flower. You had no idea he’d planned to officially ask you out after the mission. 

Now you might never know.

Scott slowly approached him, looking as if he were in a state of complete shock, replaying what went wrong over and over again in his head. All it took was one glance, and Logan didn’t even need to see his eyes to know they were buried in remorse. He wanted to be furious at him, but he couldn’t. He wanted to be beside himself with desperate anger, but there was nothing to be angry at him for. This wasn’t Scott’s fault…

It was his. 

The ride back to the mansion took days and also five seconds, Jean doing her best to keep you stable whilst Ororo took the pilot’s seat, Scott being in no shape to fly anything. Logan found himself too terrified to touch you as if the slightest movement could worsen your condition. In the silence of the ship, he could hear your haunting, rasped breaths, slow and shallow. The stench of charred flesh and boiled blood made his stomach clench, but not as much as the wounds across your body. He forced himself to look at them. To look at what he’d done to you because of his choices. Forced himself to sear every weeping burn, every broken bone, every blood-soaked bandage into his memory. Your wings, which once held so much majesty and beauty, now lay in tatters, and he had no idea if they would grow back. Would you ever be able to fly again? Logan didn’t know if he’d be able to look himself in the mirror if he’d taken that from you too. 

“She’s going to be okay, Logan. She’s stabilised for now and the Professor already knows the situation. Hank’s on standby and Charles has called in a favour from a surgeon. She’ll be in the best hands possible when we get there.” Jean attempted to comfort him, all the while focussed on keeping you stable from any turbulence and making sure your wounds didn’t worsen. 

“I did this…” he whispered, uttering the first words since watching you fall. Speaking his thoughts into the thick silence, the rest of the team cast glances at each other, Scott running a hand through his hair.

“No… I should have trusted your judgment. I hesitated. Fired too late. You can’t blame yourself for this…” He hissed, dragging the hand from his hair down the side of his face. 

“You both did what you could,” Ororo offered from the cockpit, her eyes still focused on the clouds ahead. “If you hadn’t done anything, she’d be dead by now. Those drones weren’t going to give up and she couldn’t shake them. She’s still here because of what happened, not despite it.” 

Logan couldn’t find the self-compassion to believe her. His eyes still trained on the scattering of feathers beneath where Jean suspended you from the ground. He wearily raised his head when the redhead called his name, her features soft with understanding. 

“Come here,” she gesture him over with a nod of her head, her hands still hovering over your body. Logan hesitated before rising from his seat, to stand by your side, across from Jean. “Place two fingers against the side of her neck,” she instructed, and his breath hitched, eyes darting from your unconscious face to Jean. “You won’t hurt her, just do it.”

Inhaling sharply, Logan softly brushed your hair back from your neck, gently placing two fingers against your pulse point. There he felt the slight, slow thump of your heart still beating. The realisation was enough to bring him to his knees, not caring about the sharp bark of pain as he struck the steel floor. He knew you were alive. Ororo had said as much, but to actually feel you, to feel the evidence of you’re still beating heart, broke through the dam of self-hatred.

His hand cautiously skirted up your jaw to rest against the side of your cheek as he pressed his forehead into your hair, his breath shuddering with the effort to keep himself from falling apart. He didn’t care that he could taste blood and dirt when he softly kissed the side of your head. Didn’t care that now everyone knew how he felt about you. His thumb lightly caressed your cheekbone, smoothing the grimy skin beneath your eye. 

You hadn’t left him yet. You were still here. 

“She’s alive, Logan. And we’re gonna keep her that way,” the conviction in Jean’s eyes was almost enough to settle his heart, but he knew the twisting worry wouldn’t loosen until he saw you open your eyes, your wounds healing, your wings bright again.

Everything ached. Everything. You felt as if you’d been hit by a bus, only for the bus to reverse back over your body, and hit you again. Your wrist barked with sharp pain when you tried to shift, your eyes still closed against the bright lights behind your lids. Something tight was almost cutting off the circulation to your left leg, and inhaling too deeply caused your chest to convulse in agony. The steady beep of a heart rate monitor helped you count roughly how many seconds you’d been conscious. You tried to think back to what could have happened, only to find the last thing you remembered was stooping in a low dive with three drones tailing you. There was an explosion at your back and–

You were falling. 

You’d fallen.

So much for not living up to your name…

With a hissing wince, you cracked your eyes open, only to instantly screw them shut at the sharp burn of bright lights unfamiliar to your retinas. How long have you been out? How did the mission go? Was everybody okay? Was Logan okay? 

With renewed determination, you attempted to open your eyes again, gritting your teeth as you blinked through the burn of adjustment. You knew this ceiling. You knew this table. From your first ever visit to the school, you’d been taken care of in this very room. You groaned slightly, exhaustion already taking its

 toll on your weary bones. Any attempt to move yourself resulted in agony spiking up your spine, white-hot pain cresting through your shoulder blades. Panic gripped your heart as you attempted to move your wings, only to find resistance. Turning your head with a sharp gasp, your eyes welled up with new tears seeing your torn, tattered feathers bound in bandages, held suspended by a sling from the ceiling. They were still attached, so there was that, you supposed, but it had been a long, long time since you’d seen them in this condition. 

You glanced down the bed to find your leg wrapped in a cast, held aloft from the mattress. Your wrist too seemed to be encased in white. You turned your neck to the other side with the intention of gauging the damage to your other wing, before your eyes widened at who you saw, head bowed asleep, in the chair next to your bed. 

Despite yourself and your situation, you couldn’t stop your lips from pulling into a fond, soft smile as Logan snored lightly. He looked truly exhausted, his hair mussed from how many times he’d run his hands through it. You didn’t think it was possible to adore him any more than you already did, but here you were, finding your heart growing three sizes at the sight. 

The doors opposite you slid open, Jean striding through with a clipboard and a thin pair of glasses perched on her nose. She stopped dead when she looked up from her notes, almost dropping her pen to the floor when she registered the fact you were awake. Silently, you placed a finger to your lips, before pointing over to the exhausted Logan in the chair. She smiled with a fond nod, 

Keeping her footsteps light, she crossed the medical bay to take a look at the readings on the screen, before crouching down next to your bed, her eyes focusing on the bandages across the bend of your wing. 

“He hasn’t slept since we got back. Storm had to force him to eat something yesterday. And he hasn’t stepped foot outside this room.” Jean explained, keeping her voice to a low whisper.

“How long’ve I been here…?” you asked, unable to raise your voice louder than a low whisper. Your throat scratched with every word, and you hadn’t realised just how thirsty you were until now. 

“A week and three days. I’m going to slowly reintroduce food into your stomach before taking out the IV, okay?” 

You barely heard the rest of her sentence. A week and three days? That was a little longer than you were expecting, to be honest. 

“Wait… Logan hasn’t slept in over a week?” You managed to rasp a little louder, your chest lurching with concern. That wasn’t healthy for anyone, even someone who could regenerate as fast as he could. No wonder he was utterly spent. 

And it was as if your voice were like an alarm clock. One moment your hushed tones were accompanied by the soft snores of the man in the chair, the next his eyes shot open, your whispered name the first words on his lips. 

Turning your head back to him, your breath caught in your throat. There was a hurricane of emotions swirling in his hazel eyes. Relief, guilt, fear, joy, remorse. A cocktail of feelings clouded his eyes and you wished you had the energy to cup the side of his face and reassure him you were alright. 

Logan’s exhausted haze cleared instantly upon hearing your voice, seeing your eyes open for the first time since he watched you plummet to the ground, and it took a moment for him to realise he wasn’t dreaming. Because he had dreams of this. In the rare moments he physically couldn’t keep his eyes open, his mind would either take him back to your fall or fabricate the moment you woke up. But wherever his dreams took him, he would always wake up with the tight ache of guilt constricting his chest. His waking moments he would spend thinking about what he would say to you if you woke up, planning out a meticulously crafted apology, but everything he wanted to say instantly flew out the window upon actually seeing you awake. 

“Hi…” you whispered, voice still raspy from disuse. And it was your weary, worn smile that tore at the chains around his soul. He couldn’t respond, as if he were the one who’d been lying unconscious for the last two weeks. 

Jean, sensing the tension in the room, stood from her crouched position by your wing, clearing her throat a little before tucking the clipboard flat against the crook of her elbow. 

“I’ll be back in a bit to check up on you and bring you some food.” She murmured, but you barely acknowledged her exit, too fixated on Logan’s expression of disbelief. 

The doors closed as Jean took her leave, blanketing the two of you in a charged silence, the both of you waiting for the other to talk first. 

“Logan I–”

“I’m so sorry, it–”

So naturally, of course, you both spoke at the same time, before falling into another equally uncomfortable silence, once again stuck in the purgatory of waiting for the other. You held your tongue this time, nodding to him with the smallest movement of your head. 

“You’re okay…” he breathed, almost to himself, as if having to remind himself again that this wasn’t in fact a dream. You were awake. You were talking. You weren’t lying lifeless with only the steady beeping of medical equipment to keep him company. Your eyes were open, looking at him with something he was struggling to discern through his addled mind. 

“I’m okay,” you responded softly, watching his features morph from self-hatred to pure relief. He shifted in his seat, head hanging low between his shoulders as he took a shaky breath, and you could see the slight shudder of his shoulders.

“I–” he started, before cutting himself off with a sharp inhale, clamping his teeth together as he struggled to raise his head again. “I thought I lost you.”

Whilst it was nothing but the softest admission, you felt spiderwebs crack through your heart, wanting nothing more than to reach for him, if only your bones didn’t feel like lead. He continued to keep his head low, his hands wringing together between his knees. “It was ’my fault. I didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t shake em and they were closin’ in and Scott wasn’t fuckin’ listenin’ an’–”

“Logan,” you interrupted as loud as you could, your throat tearing at the sudden strain on your voice, causing you to wince slightly. Your hiss of discomfort finally prompted him to raise his head, half standing from his seat to instantly be by your side should you need anything. “I’m okay. Or, I will be. My wings’ve seen worse, and my body will heal with time. I’m okay.”

He searched your face for any sign of deception, any indication that you were just saying this to spare his feelings, or stop him from spiralling into the well of self-hatred once again. He knew it wasn’t the time to ask, but his mind subconsciously filed away that nugget of your past for a later conversation, too focused on the fact his search came up short of anything he was looking for. 

“You’re okay…” he repeated, settling back into the chair by your bed. His eyes fell to your twitching hand, and with a gentleness only reserved for you, his fingers intertwined with yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “You’re okay.”

Your heart skipped a beat or several, and you were mildly concerned about setting off the heart rate monitor your abdomen was connected to. You don’t think you’d ever had this many wires connected to your body in your life, not even when Charles first found you. Nobody knows what had happened that day apart from him, and you refused to speak of it. 

“What do you remember?” Logan asked, pressing the back of your hand against the scruff of his cheek, as if desperate to feel you. Your brows furrowed for a moment, your quick trip down trauma lane before you opened your eyes yielding nothing of much use.

“I remember the drones and the targeting dots. I remember one… fired, I think, and missed,” you struggled, screwing your eyes shut in a vain attempt to jog your own memory.  “Uh– then there were two more? One missed and the other exploded before it hit me, but I was caught up in the blast radius. I remember falling and I remember the pain, but that’s about it…” You opened your eyes to find Logan’s expression have shifted once again back to remorse. He really thought it was his fault… didn’t he? “I couldn’t get them off me, Lo’.” You offered quietly.

“I know.”

“I wouldn’t be here if Scott hadn’t fired.”

“I… I know.”

“Logan, you saved my life.”

He placed your hand back on the bed, and you instantly missed the warmth of his palm. “I almost got you killed. I almost lost you. We could have worked somethin’ else out. Storm could’ve–”

“And what if she couldn’t?” You prompted gently, your brows creasing with empathy as you watched him try to wade through the implications of your question. 

“That’s not– I almost–”

“Almost, Logan. Almost. But you didn’t. I’m here. So please stop acting like I’m dead because I might start believing you.” You tried to sound as stern as you could whilst being physically and emotionally drained, and whilst it may have sounded a little weak, Logan knew what you were trying to do. 

He ran a hand through his messy hair which was in desperate need of a wash. Although so were you, you could only imagine. “I didn’t want our last conversation to be an argument.” He murmured, and you sighed as heavily as you could whilst not being able to inhale very deeply. 

“So melodramatic,” you joked with a half-smile, and it took a moment of his eyes scanning your face before his shoulders slumped, huffing a singular laugh through crooked lips. 

“Maybe a little…” he looked up at you through lidded eyes. “Fear doesn’t come naturally t’me. But I don’t think I’ve been more scared than when I was watchin’ you fall, knowin’ I could do nothin’.” 

You finally mustered the strength to reach for him, and he clasped your outstretched hand between both of his like a prayer. You considered for a moment what you would have done had your roles been swapped. If you were so helpless to save him from almost certain death. If you were forced to watch in nearly slow motion as the object of your heart was being ripped away from you and you were powerless against it. Because this was something more than a crush, more than admiration. You loved him. It wasn’t a sudden lightbulb moment, but rather a slow realisation of admission. You loved him. Irrevocably. Possibly irresponsibly. But certainly undeniably. 

“You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m not dead. I’m not going to die. It’s gonna take time, but I’m okay. And I’m going to be okay.” You implored, and you could almost watch the cogs turning in his head, working on believing you and realising the truth of the situation. 

You. Were. Alive.

He nodded silently, finally accepting what everyone had been trying to tell him for almost a week and a half now. His thumb grazed the tendons of your wrist, the delicate caress sending shivers down your scarred spine. 

“How’re you feeling?” He asked though he couldn’t help thinking it was the most stupid question in the world. 

“Like I just fell over two hundred feet after being blown up.” You responded dryly. Ask obvious questions, get obvious answers. 

Obviously. 

“That checks out.”

“Thank you, Doctor Wolverine.”

How you’d managed to almost die and yet maintain your humour was a mystery to Logan, but it simply added to all the reasons he was completely taken with you. You were easily one of the strongest people he knew, in spite of your own self-consciousness. The way you felt about your wings had already proven that. They were the greatest source of your diffidence, and yet you often said how incomplete you would feel without them. He saw how you battled, every day, between loving and hating them. Not many people did, but he did. 

Perhaps that was because, to him, you were the focal point of every conversation. The spotlight in the room. The brightest star in the sky. Not only did he see you, but he saw you. 

That was when he remembered your words from earlier. ‘My wings’ve seen worse…’   

“What did you mean?”

“When?”

“When you said your wings have been worse. What did you mean?” 

Logan knew he’d struck a nerve when your wry humour dissolved from your face, and he watched you withdraw back into your own mind, another silence creating a barrier between you. It was another mental battle. He could see it. And he could only hazard a guess that you were struggling between opening yourself up to whatever traumas you’d experienced in the past, or staying closed and comfortable. 

“This world is cruel and cold to people like us…” your voice was barely audible, and despite his enhanced hearing, Logan found himself shifting closer, drawn in by your siren’s whisper. “I was always jealous of people who could hide their mutation. Or mutations that didn’t take on a physical appearance, anyway. Because hiding something like phasing or shapeshifting is easy. Hiding a pair of giant fucking wings? Get’s a little harder when not everyone around you is very accepting…” you were being vague on purpose. Taking yourself back to the day Charles found you was never easy, and it was this exact reason why you kept this to yourself. Only he knew what happened, and Jean was the only other one who’d seen your condition. 

Logan fought the urge to run his fingers through your feathers, slightly worried it would hurt you more than it would soothe you, since most of your secondary feathers had been burned away or torn off, and the exposed ligaments had been covered in bandages. You took a breath before you continued. “The neighbourhood where I lived wasn’t exactly high-end, and less than welcoming to mutants. I used to listen to a lot of music when I left my apartment, it helped to drown out the insults and hatred but uh, it also prevented me from hearing anyone following me.

“It was stupid. I was tired and forgot to lock my fucking door before I fell asleep that night. Such an idiot. And I paid the price. I can’t really remember exactly when it happened, and it’s all sort of a blur to be honest. I never saw their faces either, and I only knew they were there when they shoved a gag between my teeth and held me down, jeering about me being a disgusting mutant, the usual bullshit…” you trailed off, your words sticking to your throat like molasses as you recounted possibly the most traumatic moment of your life. Narrowly holding the top spot after recent events. “They uh, tried to sever them. My wings. Used a carving knife or a paring knife, hell it could have been a butter knife for all I knew. But it hurt. And I couldn’t fight them off. I probably still have the scars. They were barely attached by the time they were startled by something and took off.”

Logan placed his hand against your cheek, gently smoothing away the stray tear sliding down the side of your face with the pad of his thumb. 

“That’s why you don’t sleep on your front?”

“That’s why I don’t sleep on my front,” You affirmed with a timid nod, and Logan felt his heart clench painfully. He always wondered where your intense passion for making the world a safer place came from. “At least,” you continued quietly. “Until you.”

His eyes widened a fraction, and it wasn’t hard to piece together what you meant. The night, two days before the mission. That was the first time you’d slept on your front since Charles and Jean found you all those years ago. That was why you mentioned it. That was why you were so adamant about it. 

Your vulnerability was taken advantage of and used to further the cycle of hatred and violence. 

“Sweetheart…” 

You couldn’t bear to hear the slight break in his voice, the horrified empathy creasing his brows. “So yeah. That’s what I meant. When I said they’ve been through worse. So actually, this really isn’t all that bad. They’ll recover. They did last time. Might be a while before I can fly again but I think I’m okay with that for a while, not sure I want to–” your rambling was cut short by the sudden decrease of proximity between the two of you. Was he always this close? Or had he shifted? Had you simply not noticed? Too lost in your second trip down trauma lane in the space of twenty minutes? You could feel his steady breaths fanning your cheeks.

“You’re safe. With me. An’ nothin’ like that will ever happen again. ‘M gonna look after you, angel. Promise.” His eyes flickered from your gaze, down to your lips, and back up in a silent request, and your body answered for you. Your eyes fluttered closed, heart igniting at the first graze of his soft lips against yours, the pain in your back forgotten as your skin prickled with shivers. 

The moment he felt you lean up into him as much as you could, Logan gasped through his nose, his fingers skirting up the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse before continuing to brace his palm against your jaw. He wanted to feel you, in any way he could and in any way you would let him, your lips dancing with his languidly. And through the salves and disinfectant, through the blood and the grease, the smoke clinging to your hair, he could just smell you. Amber and wood oak swirled through his senses, and he didn’t think it fair that you smelled like a fucking autumnal forest. 

You tried to push yourself up further toward him, a fresh wave of yearning hitting you like a fall from over two hundred feet, but your ribs barked in sharp protest, and you flinched back with a harsh hiss, your features scrunching in pain.

“Easy there, angel. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” He breathed, and whilst you could detect genuine concern in his tone, there was also a hint of smug satisfaction.

“Sorry… got kinda carried away.” You clamped your lips together at his soft chuckle, finding immeasurable comfort in the way his thumb smoothed along your under-eye.”

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while…” He murmured against your lips, and you drew back as far as you could without jostling your back too much.

“Really? How long?”

“Round a year or so.”

You blanched. “A year!?”

“Give or take a few months,” he shrugged, unable to tame the delicious grin pulling at his lips. 

“And you didn’t think to do anything?” You asked incredulously, eyes flicking between his, unable to decide just where they wanted to settle. 

“Inappropriate in the workplace.” He shrugged nonchalantly, and your eyes widened further. 

“We live under the same roof! This isn’t just a workplace.”

“Potato pot-ah-to.”

“No! Potato potato. It’s the same thing!”

He raised a sly brow. “Didn’t see ya pull back, angel. How long’ve you wanted this then?”

You clamped your lips shut, your face a picture of false irritation as he turned your own accusations back onto you, a triumphant glint dancing in his eye. “Thought s’much.”

A huff brushed his chin, though you couldn’t tame your guilty smile for long. Yes, he was absolutely right. You’d wanted to do that for far longer than you cared to admit. And the phrase ‘good things come to those who wait’ couldn’t ring more true. Though you couldn’t help thinking they should change the phrase slightly. 

‘Good things come to those who nearly die’. Yeah, that sounded more accurate. 

Your head lulled against his hand, a tugging wave of exhaustion pulling at your mind, your eyes feeling heavy with sleep. It was strange. Usually, you found it so difficult to find rest, tossing and turning until you simply couldn’t take it anymore. But not in his presence. Not when Logan was with you. 

He hummed a soft, fond smile of understanding, pulling the chair closer to the bed so he could still be near you. Pressing his lips to your forehead, you sighed in contentment, your hand holding his arm in a soft grip, silently asking him not to go anywhere. But you didn’t need to. He had no plans on leaving you anytime soon. 

“Sleep, angel. ‘M here. You’re safe.”

[lina-lovebug]

I'd Fight The Devil

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Background: (Y/N) Morningstar with her partner, Alastor, has decided to put some of the Overlords in their place.

Warning: Alastor being Alastor, mentions of pregnancy but no one's pregnant, and Alastor might have a breeding kink

_ _ _

"(Y/N)! What a surpri-!"

"I believe that's Princess (Y/N) Morningstar, Heir to the throne of Hell, and Duchess of Chaos - to you," Alastor loved doing this. He adored how (Y/N) had decided to start using her true power, and to bring respect back to her name.

The family name, to be exact.

Valentino chuckled nervously as (Y/N) scoped out the place, her horns ever presenting and tail flicking with annoyance.

"What a pleasure to be hosting you, Princess. What would be the reason for this visit?" Valentino asked, offering her a drink.

"I'm fine, thank you," She dismissed it, already smelling the poison inside the cocktail.

"I'm here to discuss Angel Dust, and your contract with him."

"If he's too much trouble for the hotel, I'll happily-"

"You're the one causing the trouble," Alastor cut him off.

Valentino sputtered, "me?!"

"You can feign innocence all you wish, Val, but I've heard that you've called my sister a bimbo, along with many other colorful names," (Y/N) slowly stood up, leaning over his desk as the lights started to go out - one by one.

"Charlie is nice. She's always been the kinder of us Morningstars, but apparently this makes you think that you can go and soil our name. My father could have strung every sinner on a hook for eternity, torturing you all second by second as your screams sung into our great halls," no one had been unfortunate enough to see the form of (Y/N) Morningstar, and Val was one of them.

Her height expanded to nine feet tall, her pretty black nails forming into claws and her eyes ablaze with scarlet serpent pupils.

And wings - oh great black wings that could make even Adam rethink his attack.

When he was still alive, of course.

"And you sully his gift by mocking us."

"Look, Vox did it first! Okay?! He said you'd never-!" Val tripped on a tentacle that came from her beloved Alastor, who dropped a TV by his feet.

But not just any TV.

"Oh God," Val gasped, "Vox. . .?"

"I took care of him earlier," Alastor grinned, still reminiscent on his screams.

"I couldn't have my dear (Y/N) sully her hands with his filth. But whatever the Princess wants, she gets."

Oh to see her come into her power was as chilling as death itself.

"You're so romantic, Alastor," (Y/N) smiled.

That's when Valentino spotted it. On the left hand of (Y/N) Morningstar was a ruby wedding ring, the band pure gold.

Alastor finally did it.

He climbed up the latter, but not through power.

Well yes, through power, but he certified that it would always be his.

By marrying Lucifers daughter.

"We're matching, isn't it adorable?" Alastor showed off his own wedding band, ruby's encrusted inside of it.

"Now, where were we?" She grinned, and as an engagement gift, the screams of Vox and Valentino were broadcasted throughout all of Hell.

And they say chivalry is dead.

_ ☆ _

"They're fucking crazy."

"They're made for each other."

On that, Angel Dust and Husker could agree.

The lovely couple had become the center of Hells attention after their engagement was announced, and even though Alastor thought it would be hilarious for Lucifer to find out through the papers, she told him first.

And he cried.

"Oh my baby is all grown up!" Lucifer sobbed loudly, clinging onto her legs, "look at you! You-you used to be this small!" Lucifer grabbed a duck, "and you were so tiny and so cute!"

"Am I invited?" Lucifer squeaked, staring up into her eyes.

"Yes, dad," She smiled, bringing him up to his feet, "but we want to wait a bit before we plan anything."

"You know she used to bite my finger?!" Lucifer grabbed the baby pictures of little (Y/N), "look at how small she was! Oh, and this one is my favorite!"

Alastor truly didn't mind how touchy Lucifer had become with him, but thankfully, Lucifer also knew when to stop.

"Wait, is that why you're getting married?! Did you impregnate my daughter?!" Lucifer gasped, shoving his hand on her stomach.

"Dad! Dad, no! I'm not pregnant!" She quickly cleared up.

"Unfortunately," Alastor muttered to himself. Oh to see her belly swell with his children - his own spawn, it made his cock twitch at the thought.

He was fond of children but his own? Oh he'd spoil his little prince or princess with all the blood sacrifices the world had to offer.

"Yeah but you know what marriage entails, kiddo!" He pointed at them both with finger guns, "first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby-oh my GOD I'll be a grandpa!"

He started crying again.

She sighed, "at least we know our hypothetical child will be taken care of."

Alastor nodded, "I could not have picked a better father-in-law."

At this point, Lucifer was ugly crying.

Alastor looked at his beloved with a soft gaze as she tried calming her father down. To be honest, Alastor never thought he would ever find solace in Hell. He anticipated every day being a fight for his life, always looking over his shoulder and always striving for more power. And as cheesy as it sounded, he saw (Y/N) as his shining light. She brought out his sad heart, and for the first time in his life, he wished his mother was with him.

To see just what a wonderful woman he managed to catch.

[tayraedoll]

Old Man

Part 2 Part 3

You keep teasing Alastor due to his age, he is about to show you how his age just makes him more experienced.

TW: Swearing, drinking, vomit, blackouts, suggestive themes, old-fashioned chivalry, drunk kissing

No smut, but is very suggestive at the end.

You slam the door to the hotel angrily behind you, causing the door to shutter in a way that would have worried you about breaking it if you had it in you to give a fuck.

"Fucking prick...who the hell does he think he is?!", you mutter under your breath

You run your hand through your chestnut hair. Your demon form was that of a fallow deer, your hair turned a reddish brown color with ears to match on your head. You had little white spots adorning your cheeks, shoulders, and back. The last of your demonic changes would be your luscious deer tail- the same color as your hair with the spots peppered over it- so full that you needed to get all your clothes altered for it.

You make your way over to the bar- where you a hoping the man who instigated your wrath sits- stomping your feed unnecessarily hard on the wood flooring. Just as you were hoping for, the man you most wanted to pick-a-bone with sat in his usual spot.

"Angel!"

"Toots? Back from y'er date already huh?"

"You are sooooo not allowed to set me up on anymore dates! That guy was an absolute menace!", you slump into the seat next to his with an exaggerated sigh. Husk promptly placed your favorite drink in front of you. You smiled and lifted your glass to him in thanks.

"Jeez, 'm sorry toots. I gotta ask- what'd Mikey do that pissed ya off so bad?"

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying not to picture your atrocious dinner date. "He ordered my dinner for me.", you spat as if it was the most egregious wrong ever done to you.

Angel and Husk stared at you with unreadable expressions, glancing at each other before quickly diverting their eyes back to you.

Maniacal laughter suddenly rang out from the other side of the bar- Alastor. You had not even noticed him when you first came in- if he had been there at all. You had a decent relationship with The Radio Demon, you mostly interacted at dinner but had the occasional chat in the library. He seemed to get along better with you than he did most of the other residents-save for Nifty and Charlie- you assumed that was due to being a deer like he was. Herd mentality and all you supposed. Now though, his laughter was grating on your already taut nerves. "Something funny you coot?" Angel's and Husk's eyes widened at your jab- no one had the balls to insult Alastor right to his face like that.

"Yes, very much so Darling. Did it ever cross your mind that perhaps he was just being polite? Ordering a ladies meal used to be the chivalrous thing to do.", he smiled wider at you as you narrowed your eyes at him.

"OK boomer, was it also 'chivalrous'(you used air quotes with your finger) to order her a salad instead of the wings and fries she wanted? The next man who has the audacity to order my food for me will become my meal instead!" You huffed and downed the rest of your drink, glaring over at your fellow deer.

He chuckled smoothly but relented his argument "No, I suppose you are right- that was not the proper way to go about it." You gave him a cocky smile before he continued "However, I must say that you...younger generation of ladies... give up so quickly. Running at the very first small inconvenience." He folded his hands and rested his chin on them, eyeing you mischievously.

"Well, SOOOORRRYY for having standards. Us younger generation ladies are not impressed by minimal effort and do not abide by the misogynist tendencies you old geezers put out", you laced your voice with as much venom as you could. "Mikey can take his Terry Crews in White Chicks vibes and fuck right off!"

Alastor eyed you thoughtfully,"Would you care to join me for a night out on the town my dear? Perhaps having a bit of fun will lighten your mood."

Now it was your turn to laugh,"Sorry gramps, but I fail to see how chaperoning you for your daily nightcap will lift my spirits."

"Hmmm, I suppose I will just need to show you how The Lost Generation cuts loose. Get dressed in something you can move in Darling." He was challenging you, you could see it in that smug grin on his face. Who were you to not indulge the old man?

"Give me 15 minutes.", you smirked at him and raced upstairs to your room. You have been saving a lacy, black party dress for a special occasion, now seemed like the perfect time to break it out of your closet. You would pair it with a pair of blood red pumps for a pop of color, wearing lipstick of the same shade to bring it all together.

You swagger down the stairs to meet up with Alastor at the front door. His smile widens ever so slightly as his eyes apprise you. "You look lovely Sha.", he says sweetly as he takes your hand in his, kissing your knuckles tenderly. "Shall we?" He tucks your arm through his and guides you out the door.

You walk in silence for a time, Alastor humming softly to himself. You finally speak up "So, what old saloon are you taking me to?", you smile coyly up at him hoping to ruffle his feathers a bit.

"We are headed to my favorite jazz club Little Fawn", he snickers at your scowl. You hated when he called you that, it was because of your spots. But you were just a different breed of dear- you weren't a fawn! The nickname made you feel like a child. You spent the rest of the walk in silence again- Alastor resumed his humming while you pouted.

The outside of the club was inconspicuous, an old building made of brick and wood with no windows. Just a large, metal door at the center. Upon your arrival a small eyelet slid over to inspect you two, The eyes on the other side widened upon seeing Alastor and hastily opened the door. Once inside, you walked down a short hallway and through another metal door.

The inside of the club was a vast contrast to what the outside was like. It was lively, bodies dancing every which direction and a live band played passionately on stage on the far side. The room was decorated in vibrant reds and golds. A long, wooden bar sat to your left. You could smell the tang of bourbon and puffs of smoke, getting a hint of sweat from all the bodies swinging around on the dance floor.

"Shall I order you a drink? Or would you prefer to do that yourself? I wouldn't want to insult you.", Alastor chortled as he walked you over to the bar. You rolled your eyes at him "What are you drinking?" He raised a brow at you. "I am drinking rye whiskey. I am not sure if that will be to your tastes Fawn."

"Hey, I'm sure I can handle anything you dish out Flapdoodle. I bet I can go drink for drink with you even.", you challenged. Maybe you could wipe that ever-present smirk off his smug face if you could get the old man to pass out. You could handle a couple of whiskey drinks.

Alastor hummed as he regarded you, "Very well, if you insist!", he turned to the bartender "Double rye on the rocks please!" You blanched, double? You were not expecting to be drinking doubles, but if Alastor could handle them then you had a good chance right? You took a sip of your drink, it tasted of spice and dark chocolate and had a pleasant burn on its way down your throat. You were sure if you sipped it you would be fine.

However, Alastor had other plans as he swallowed the entire contents of his drink in one go. Your mouth fell open in shock as you stared at him. Fuck, this isn't going the way you planned. Timidly, you brought your own drink to your lips and swallowed the rest of it, shuddering at the burn. Alastor watched you all the while, and promptly ordered two more drinks. This drink was sipped, but was still drank much faster than you planned.

After a while you started to feel the effects of the alcohol, your body relaxing. You started to sway to the music, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Would you do me the honor of joining me on the dance floor my dear?", Alastor asked as he took your hand, leading you out to the middle of the dancing crowd.

He placed your left hand on his shoulder, keeping your other hand held in his. His free hand held you closely by the waist and he began to swing you around to the beat. You stumbled along, if he weren't holding you so securely you would have ended up on the floor and the alcohol was not doing you any favors. "Oh dear, you a very bad at this!", he teased you. You glared back up at him "Well maybe if you would slow down instead of throwing me around like a lunatic I would be better!", you snapped. He chuckled, but slowed down enough that you could keep up and learn the dance. But once you seemed to get your bearings he sped up again.

This continued all night- the song would change and he would slow down so you could learn the new dance but speed up once you got it. All the while, the only thing you had to drink was whiskey. It did not take long for you to be truly drunk, your vision starting to spin and your movements becoming clumsy. Your legs were killing you, you had definitely worn the wrong shoes for this activity.

"Please excuse me for a second.", you smiled up at Alastor and walked off the dance floor. You exited out a back door you saw people use to take smoke breaks to get some fresh air. You leaned back against the wall, closing your eyes to help concentrate on breathing evenly. You heard the door open beside you but chose to ignore it until you felt a hand on your cheek. You opened your eyes to see Alastor standing over you, his eyes carefully scanning your face. "You truly are as beautiful as a magnolia in May.", he stated before slowly lowering his face to yours.

You gasped into the kiss, losing all train of thought. Weren't you supposed to be rivals? The new vs. the old? In this moment, you no longer cared. He continued holding your face as you grabbed the lapels of his jacket as the kiss continued, it was making you dizzy.

Oh no, you are not just dizzy from the kiss- the alcohol is making it worse. Your stomach started to twist uncomfortably and you had to roughly push Alastor away from you before you turned to the wall and puked your guts up all over yourself. When you were done you stumbled back, vision quickly fading. The last thing you remember before succumbing to complete darkness is a pair of strong arms catching you and the warmth of a chest cradling you.

You reached consciousness slowly, your senses coming to you one-by-one. Unfortunately, the first thing you registered was extreme thirst followed quickly by a pounding headache. You let out a loud groan, turning over in your bed "Fuck" you grumbled out.

A soft chuckle followed by an all-too-chipper "Good morning!" caught your attention. You glared at Alastor over in a chair before mumbling "I am not in the mood for your bullshit this morning.", burying your face in the pillow.

It took you an embarrassing few seconds to register that he was actually in the room with you and was not just a figment of your imagination sent to torture you. You shot up in the bed, making your head spin again. "What are you doing in my...", you trailed off as you took in your surroundings. You were not in your room. The bed you were in was large, with maroon-colored silk sheets. The room had crimson-colored walls with a grand fireplace, in front of which Alastor sat reading the paper. Behind him, the room gave way to a magnificent forest and swamp that made your breath hitch. You were obviously in Alastor's room.

"Al...what am I doing in your room?", you asked as you slowly looked back over at him, heart ready to beat out of your chest in fear of his answer.

"I did not feel comfortable leaving you alone in your room. You were incredibly drunk, I did not want you to asphyxiate if you were to become ill again. So I brought you here where I could keep an eye on you.", he explained calmly, watching your reaction. Your face burned with shame. You had set out to get The Radio Demon to make a fool of himself, but you had become the fool yourself. You turned away, not wanting to see the amusement that surely danced plainly on his face. When you glanced down you frowned.

"How am I wearing my pajamas?", you asked- the accusation plain to hear in your voice. When you glanced back up, Alastor had walked over to stand at the foot of the bed. "Well, I was not about to let your spew into my bed. So I sent my shadows to your room to retrieve your sleepwear.", he explained matter-of-factly.

"Did they change me too or...?"

"No, I did that.", before you could get upset at that revelation he snapped his fingers and you were suddenly wearing socks. You breathed a sigh of relief, you did not think Alastor would violate your privacy like that but it was nice to have the verification. As you sat there thinking, memories of the night before slowly trickled back into your mind. Alastor had kissed you! But why?

Before you could ask any of the million questions running through your mind he sat at the end of the bed. "Sha, I would like to have a rather important discussion with you if you feel up to it." You nodded and waited for him to continue. "Would you be open to me courting you?"

You stared at him dumbstruck "Huh?" was all you could muster out. Was this really happening? Did Alastor just ask to date you?

"I have been admiring you from afar for some time now. I must admit I am rather taken by you. I enjoy our back-and-forth banter and admire your wit. You are such a strong-minded woman, and are not afraid to speak exactly what you are thinking. I would like the opportunity to explore our relationship a bit further if you assent."

Your jaw hit the floor, you had no idea how to respond. Alastor admired you? He wanted to have a more formal relationship? None of this was making sense to you at the moment but your heart was soaring. You had been hiding your attraction to the demon behind your crude jokes about his age. You'd be lying if you said you would not want to get to know him better as well.

"It is rude to stare Dear.", Alastor grinned at you. You had not stopped gaping at him while you processed your thoughts. "Y-Yes, I would be open to that." You shyly smiled back at him.

"One more thing, how much about your biology do you know?", he asked as he shifted closer to you, closing the distance between you two. "What do you mean?"

"Well, in just a few months the cervid mating season will be upon us.", he explained slowly. You crinkled your brows in confusion. "You arrived in hell very shortly after the last mating season. I was not sure how much about your deer form you had learned. If you find our courting satisfactory...I would very much like to claim you this season." He stared at you intently, searching your eyes for your reaction. He was leaning so far into your space that only a few inches separated you. His want was practically palpable.

Your mind went blank again, at a complete loss for words for the moment. This man was just full of surprises. You felt a myriad of emotions- excitement, fear, anticipation, nervousness. But you wanted it, so badly that it shocked you. But, you did not want him to get any more satisfaction at your expense today. So you smirked, "Only if you can keep up you old geezer."

With that you went to get up and dramatically walk out of the room to leave him with his thoughts. But instead you felt your calf muscles strain and knees buckle underneath you. Your legs were so cramped up, damn shoes! Alastor laughed heartily at you as you flushed tomato red. "You are not quite as limber as you ought to be for your age My Doe. Your endurance could use a bit of work.", he tutted at you helping you to your feet. You stretched your sore legs out a bit until you could at least shuffle around.

Before you could turn away Alastor grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him. "A final tidbit of information- did you know that deer can mate consecutively for 72 hours?", he watched as your eyes widened to saucers, leaning in until his lips just barely caressed the fluff of your ears. "If I were you Ma Petite Biche (My Little Doe), I'd begin stretching."

[demonic0angel]

for the dragon au:

Hatchling Damian sneaked into Jason's lair after the older dragon left to go hunting. Damian is on a mission to pilfer any books about animals.

Jazz caught him red-handed.

It ended with him dozing off while Jazz read to him.

Part 1

Damian triumphantly snuck into Jason’s lair, shaking out his wings. He tip toed to his hoard, knowing that Jason kept books about animals in the corner next to the anthropology books. His tail wagged at the thought of both successfully stealing it away and also using it to convince his sire to allow him to keep the black panther for a pet.

As he stepped into the hoard, the scent of an unknown female flooded his senses. Damian tensed and just as he was about to turn and leave, a large claw moved and turned him over. Damian yelped and hissed, darting back onto his feet and turning before he froze in place.

A large dragon with black scales and bright glowing eyes stared at him, wings stretched over them both. This dragon, clearly the one who was scenting everything with her scent, was even larger than his sire and all of her appendages looked even sharper than Jason’s. All in all, she was extremely dangerous.

“Who are you?” She asked, and although her voice was sweet, Damian couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through him.

He spread his own wings, widened his stance, and hissed at her. “Who are you! How dare you come into my brother’s hoard! When he comes back, he’ll kill you!”

The female dragon tilted her head. She leaned forward, muzzle coming uncomfortably close as Damian hissed again and scratched his tiny claws on her. She ignored the swipe and then nudged him over with her mouth. He squeaked as her teeth came too close to him. Then in one smooth motion, she opened her mouth and clamped her teeth over his middle. He shrieked, but she didn’t bite down, only gently holding him in her mouth before picking him up and moving to the center of the hoard.

He shuddered in between her teeth, feeling little like he always did when his father or Alfred carried him like this, but he didn’t even twitch as the female dragon moved between the piles of books to the center, where a nest was formed.

The combined scents of the female dragon and Jason made him freeze all over again. She flopped in the middle and then placed him in between her forelimbs, before licking over his head. Damian yowled but she didn’t even care. She continued to preen him before he finally found the courage to ask, “Who are you?!”

“I am called Jazz, little one. I am Jason’s mate and you have entered our nest. You must be Damian, his littlest hatchmate.”

Damian growled. Her tongue laved over his head again and he quickly melted. He hadn’t gotten cleaned in a while, and although she was not a dragon he had met before, she was family now if she and Jason were already nesting. She cleaned him and then asked, “What were you looking for, little one?”

“… I want a book on animals. I have discovered a panther cub and must do research before I can ask my sire to keep it.”

“A lovely decision,” she praised, before pressing down on him gingerly. “Stay, I will collect it for you.” Jazz left before she came back with a book delicately pinched between her large claws. “Can you read, little one?”

Damian slowly shook his head. He was going to ask Richard or Timothy to read to him.

Jazz nuzzled him. “I shall read to you then. Shall I start from the beginning or shall I go straight to the panther page?”

Damian perked up, his tail wagging. When Jazz settled back into the nest, Damian quickly followed along until he was between her front limbs, eagerly looking at the tiny book that was dwarfed by her size. “From the beginning! I shall allow you to read to me,” he said haughtily and she gave a rumbling purr before she started.

When Jason came back to the nest, a large ox and a sheep in his mouth, it was to the sight of his youngest brother between his mate’s arms, purring up a storm as Jazz read to him quietly.

“… did he bother you?” Jason asked, dropping the dead livestock in a corner away from the books before looking at his dozing little brother. Damian’s eyes were closed and he looked nothing like the bratty baby lizard that used to terrorize them for days on end.

“Not at all. He’s good practice for our hatchlings,” Jazz said, her wings wrapping around them both even closer.

Jason prowled around them for a good spot before settling under Jazz’s large wings. “As long as he’s not a bother.” He pointed a claw at the book. “Start from the beginning, will you?”

[syoddeye]

the gift that keeps on giving - part one, john

Every year, on each of their birthdays, you're delivered with a bottle of Scotch. Shared. Savored. Spoiled. cw: established relationship, everything is consensual, reader is shared between price+nik+kate, smut, rope bondage, gags, mild degradation, vibrators, alcohol, pet names a/n: AO3

"Is that–?"

"It is."

"And that–?

"Nikolai sends his regards."

John scrubs a hand over his warming cheeks and chuckles when he meets Kate's eyes. Her smile is sharp, wicked. The very same one she shares whenever a plan executes perfectly. She pats his back and lays a key card on the desk.

"Happy birthday, John. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She laughs softly as she leaves the suite. The door clicks shut after easing closed, leaving him alone with his gifts.

He stares, good manners slipping now that company's gone. He doffs his cap and shucks off his jacket, taking his time to place both aside. His breathing deepens as he peels off his shirt, the cool air a balm to his warmed skin.

"Look at you. Sittin' pretty. Much better than last time." He tugs off his belt and lifts a single brow. "Did our chat motivate you? Or are you on your best behavior 'cause it's my birthday?"

His pet doesn't answer, of course, not with the gag held between her teeth. She weakly whines as he steps out of his trousers, folding them with the same lack of hurry as the rest of his clothes. His lip curls at the sheen on her lips, the string of drool dangling from the silicone, and how her eyes drill far lower than his face. He cups himself over the cotton, sneering when her gaze snaps up.

"No, you care about the rules or my birthday, do you? You just want somethin' to gag on." John clicks his tongue, ignoring her protests, releasing himself to pluck the half-full bottle resting between her legs. Fingers curling around the neck, he guides the heft of it deliberately into her seam as he lifts it. He zeroes in on the damp revealed by its removal and the pink silicone tail peeking out from behind the gusset. He exhales hard through his nose. 

"You better be a good girl for Kate next time you're with her. She's spoiled you."

John pulls the room's armchair closer to the bed and pours himself a small drink. The bottle is an old tradition that he and Nik started. Kate's the most recent addition to the rotation, despite her deeming it unpalatable. But, sure enough, her initials and last year's date are etched in ink on the bottle's label.

He looks over their pet and the rope securing her limbs, ensuring it's only as uncomfortable as she likes. Her arms double-cuffed at her back, legs held open like butterfly wings, tied ankle to thigh. She's stunning like this. Always is.

Swirling the amber on his tongue, savoring the taste, he swipes through his phone to the clever little app, and starts her off at the halfway point on the scale. He sips, content to watch her try and remain still as the egg whirrs to life, tail twitching from where it sticks out of her panties. He knows some of the frustrated noises trapped behind the gag stem from the fact he hasn't ripped that frilly piece of lingerie off yet, that he can't see her pussy soaking itself. He's in no rush. After all, following one near-immediate orgasm, from probably being teased to high heaven by Kate, the silk conforms to her sex. He sees every fucking detail from the chair.

John's achingly hard, purposely ignoring his own needs. He plays with the settings through another orgasm, curiously trying out the new tap mode, sending occasional pulses to keep her guessing. Only when the aftershocks peter out, leaving her trembling and contracting inward, does he shut it down to let her slump inward. He sets his glass aside.

"There we go." He minds as he removes the gag dripping with her spit. "Status?"

"Green, could use water, sir." She whispers through several deep breaths, voice shaky.

"Good girl, telling me what you need." The reinforcement is pointless, more for him than her. Regardless, he finds her water bottle in the minifridge and watches her lips pucker around the straw. "I'm gonna take that out when you're finished. Need anything else?"

She swallows, then shakes her head. "No, sir."

The hot pink vibrator's sticky, coated, and its removal releases a little rush. They both groan, and it's all he can do to not tip her back and take her there and then.

"Kate's improved." He observes, one finger hooking under the rope wrapped around her upper thigh. She squirms, lips pressing together in a frown. "You don't think so?"

"I had to tell her how to do my legs."

"Did you?" John grabs one of the smaller pillows and tosses it beside the bed. He toes it into position, then reaches for her. "Proud of yourself?" He huffs when, instead of answering, she arcs toward his hands, eyes trained on his face. She's still feeling a mite bold, then. That bravado doesn't last. It never does. The second he puts her level with the strained fabric of his pants, her eyes drop. That slip of attitude bleeds into an affectation of the docility he likes. A practiced and put-upon yielding. She'll play along, for now.

"Conceited and greedy." John chides, reaching for his glass. He widens his stance, nodding once to cue her. A chuckle rumbles out as she buries her face into the cotton pulled taut across his cock. Nosing it first, dragging in deep breaths, then mouthing at him, wetting it, laving her tongue over its curve, then down. He hisses, watching her clumsily take the elastic band in her mouth. "Mind those teeth."

When she manages to drag the cotton to his base, he pushes it down his thighs further with his free hand, then settles it on the crown of her head. His cock droops, twitching at her soft, warm breaths fanning over it. A teaser.

She kisses his tip once, stealing a kitten's lick, before opening and offering his cock its cradle. He glides it over her tongue, letting the threads of his control puppet him along until he's as far as she can take. Into the wet sleeve of her throat, breathing hard through her nose. His head tips back, and a prolonged sigh leaves him as he simply holds there, listening to the choked gags of her attitude adjustment.

He starts slow. Kate's probably kept their pet's pretty mouth occupied for the weeks she's had her, but he's seen the woman's collection, and nothing's as thick as him. He picks up the pace, rocking his hips with some vigor when her tongue starts acting more deliberately, less reactionary. She's old hand at this by now. Takes his cock like a champ anywhere he sticks it.

His head tilts back down until his chin taps his chest to admire the sight of his pet working. Her eyelashes flutter over her cheeks, nose scrunching as his hair repeatedly tickles it. 

"Eyes open." He withdraws until just the tip sits behind her lips, before giving it a few shallow thrusts to knock the tears off her waterline. He licks his lips at the uneven lines of her smearing makeup. No waterproof shit. Kate really thought of everything. He shuttles her mouth down again, swearing at the squeeze.

When he pulls out, her tongue chases after, and he slaps his length across it to hear her whine. She lets it slip over her cheek to nuzzle his sack, and he nearly bites a chunk of his cheek out when she pays them her attention, suckling gently at the textured skin. Her swollen lips plant kisses. It takes the last of his drink and the last of his self-restraint to stop her. 

He'd rather not paint her face—not on the first round. 

John weighs his options. How much freedom she ought to have in what comes next. She turns her head beneath his hand, pressing a kiss to his wrist before letting her teeth graze lightly over the ridges of its veins. Then, when he doesn't make a decision quick enough for her liking, she nips hard. His nostrils flare at the sting, and then he moves, his decision made. It's time, he thinks, to unwrap the present right in front of him.

He makes short work of the rope. First her legs, then her arms, hoisting her onto the bed rougher than planned. The hotel bed groans under the sudden drop, but the indignant huff she expels is louder. The seconds he allows her to stretch her limbs as he kicks off his pants is his mercy. 

The mattress dips as he follows her toward the headboard, knees knocking hers apart. Her hand slides down her belly quick as a cat, spreading herself with two digits, and his single-mindedness nearly misses the 'J' and 'P' painted neatly on her fingernails.

"What's this?"

She smiles coyly. "Another present."

"Did I pay for it?"

"Yes, sir. They look better wet. See?" To illustrate, she shines them with her own slick, and she's right. They do. His gaze shifts between them to the entrance they frame. She's dripping like a tap, clit swollen under its hood and almost goading. The glittery paint catches the light.

"Look at that." He throbs at the sight of her hole clenching reflexively, then slips a finger between her own, groaning at the give and the heat. Her breath hitches as he buries it deep and crooks it. He knows every part of her body as well as he knows his own. Takes nothing to find the spot that makes her sing.

The ebbing of his near-orgasm is a minor tragedy, his prick practically begging to cram itself into her, but watching her squirm satisfies the torment. He relishes her whimpers, the wet squelch of her pussy sucking him in. The sight of her gripping the sheets and stuffing her painted fingers into her mouth, the sound of a muffled oh fuck escaping around them—never been a better show.

John works her up to two and briefly considers a third when her eyes roll, but he's fit to burst. Plenty of time between now and breakfast. He might try for a fourth when she's good and loose.

While he cleans his fingers, her legs hitch around his waist and lock by the ankle at the small of his back, heels digging in and urging. A demand sneaks out, too, though when he meets her eye, she's biting her lip in denial. All apologetic, but only when she's caught.

Spoiled, pampered pet. He's supposed to be the firm hand of the trio. She's gone and softened him up.

He drapes over her, arms bracketing her head. No quarter, no turning her face away. Front row seat to her pupils swallowing their color, tears pooling heavily on their lines. Her anticipation and frustration are raw, too big for her to hide. Her sweetness exists at the knife's edge, and too often, he finds himself on the wrong side of it. She knows just where to slot it between his ribs, when to twist. How much to give to make him ache for it. Turn both of them greedy.

Her hips wiggle, heat-seeking cunt in search of a cock, and another gasp puffs out of her when it works. The blunt head catches and, with pressure, notches. "Deep breath." He warns. From there, it's one languid thrust into her cunt. Worth all the teasing and toying, no resistance at all. She's snug, soaking, and fits him like a glove.

The first outward stroke pulls a deep groan from somewhere deep within him. Her heels tamp down as he builds a rhythm. Bullying him into bullying her. They let up when he plummets deep enough to brush her cervix, the muscles melding to his sides briefly seizing like she's touched an electric fence. Kicking when he keeps at it.

Her hands meet behind his neck, fingers lacing together. Later, she'll dig them into his back upon request. Kiss the marks they leave, too. The thought already makes his chest ache. For all the trouble she gives him, she's a good girl.

He and Nik got lucky.

They weren't looking for anything like this when they met her. They had each other, thought it sorted, no need for more. No one else. But then, out of every shop in the city, they had to pick hers. And she, with her effortless smile and charm, had to go and upsell Nik that first bottle. She didn't push, exactly, but the way she leaned in, the lilt of her voice—it was impossible to resist. She was under their skin in a heartbeat.

After that, they couldn't help themselves. The way they showed up to collect her after work, practically glowing. The fucking springs in their steps. Nik's arm over her shoulders, and John's around her waist, as if there was nothing in the world but the three of them, as if they'd known each other forever.

It was meant to be a one-time thing. Now she's got her own room and an allowance.

And then Kate got involved, and everything changed again, simplifying and complicating it all at once. New rules laid down to keep everyone happy and well, but flexible enough that everyone knows her availability if someone needs to eat her cunt.

He slips out to roll to his side, grunting approvingly when she hastily follows suit, arse pressing insistently to his front. His hand curls under her knee, lifting and prying her open, and hers reaches down blindly to guide him back in. The sound she makes is pornographic, pitching up a note in her used throat when he punches back in the second her hole slots over him.

"Needy fuckin'–"

"Please, John, I want–"

Beneath her head, the bicep she uses as a pillow bulges. He bends his arm further, snatching up one wrist and netting himself the other when she tries to free it. 

Like this, he can let loose. Fuck her with abandon. Give her what she really wants and what he needs. Something to stave off the steady march of time, help him ignore the new crop of silvers and grays above his ears. Stretch out the pretty girl on his cock and listen to her cry about it, and cry for more. 

His nose and forehead press to her temple, and she turns her head enough to give him the chance for a kiss. He doesn't hesitate, leaning in to claim her mouth. It's sloppy and desperate, but it's the softest she's been all night since choking on him.

Her leg lifts from his hold, sweat beading along her forehead at the strain. His hand falls automatically toward her clit, thumbing where the skin stretches first, feeling how thin it spreads on the outstroke. It makes him rut like a bull, feeling bigger than ever with how taut it goes. He pants into her neck, grinning wolfishly at how her pussy clenches around him when he briefly teases the bud between her legs.

She shifts, rolling her hips back to meet him, and he answers by turning her, then pressing her down into the sheets. One hand firmly clamps at her waist, the other settling at the nape of her neck. His knees take the brunt of his weight, spreading to stabilize his stance, before rebuilding his pace. He fucks her like this for a while, spearing over and over again, staring rapt at the core of her body. Listening to the slick glide of himself into where she's swollen and crying. 

He moves his mitt from her waist to the underside of her knee, spreading her further, driving in deeper. "Touch yourself." he rasps, a chuckle rumbling out of him at the speed of her compliance. One of her arms snakes under her stomach, and he watches four cute fingers poke out from under his cock to rub herself stupid.

Sweat clings to his back, matting the pelt of coarse hair on his chest and stomach, dripping steadily onto her as he shifts his weight. He leans more of his heft onto her, letting gravity aid the swing of his hips. Hammers down on her fingers. In a distant corner of his mind, he recalls his last birthday and the noise complaints. The concierge's face the next morning, tomato-red and warped with embarrassment, unable to meet their eyes as he explained.

A sharp whine snaps his eyes to her face. Her bottom lip is held fast in her teeth, and he releases her neck to drag a knuckle down the side of her face. He collects a bead of sweat and licks it off, humming at another delightful squeeze.

"Gonna come, sweetheart? Gettin' close?"

She nods, eyelids shutting halfway. Tiny stars dance in her pupils as her eyes roll in their sockets. They snap to him when his palm returns to her neck. It draws a groan out of his throat, that expression. Looking to him for permission. To come, to speak.

"Tell me how it feels."

"Good, 's good, sir. Fffuck! " 

Her wrist must be aching. He knows the rest of her is. "You want to come?" He presses a finger against her carotid, enough to encourage focus. "C'mon, words."

"Yes, please, sir—"

It's his day, but he lets her have it. She comes hard, choking his cock, forcing him to a furious grind and short, pointed thrusts. He follows not long after, hand slipping from her neck in a frantic, jerking motion, the last shred of control he has left before it overtakes him. When it does, it scours his thoughts clean, spills most of what's left into her, and she milks the dregs out. 

It's some time before he can ease out of her, and his length pulses with interest at the obscene sound of his exit. A filthy chuckle rattles out of him at the sight of his cum dribbling out after, freed by the suction. She's a mess. He adjusts, gets comfortable, and then digs his fingertips into the muscles of her upper thighs and glutes. Humming when she comes back online, panting, face buried in the pillow.

"Tired already?"

She manages to shake her head.

They'll take a break, for both their sakes. If the extra suitcase at the foot of the bed is any indicator, she's brought her entire toy chest with her. Enough to keep his hands busy in the downtime. Until morning. 

She's not too tired that she can't help him move her. He props himself up against the tufted headboard, its cheap fabric sopping up his sweat, and she drapes herself over his chest. Momentarily sated, temporarily sweet. Her hand splays across his chest, nails glinting like stained-glass windows. He stares at his initials—protected under a clear varnish, pristine and perfect. As fleeting as the calm. Branding her as his for a day. This only happens once a year. But seeing that 'P' stirs that old possessive streak. 

She drifts, her breathing evening out as her body recuperates. Won't take more than twenty minutes, tops. He could time it to the second if he cared, but he doesn't. He lets her rest, sprawled warm and weighty against him.

"Happy birthday, John." she sighs, her voice soft as a whisper over his chest, her breath blowing through the whorls of his hair.

Happy birthday indeed, he thinks, tracing a line between her shoulder blades.

She's the only piece of heaven he'll ever know. She's his. Theirs. But tonight, just his.

[monstermaniawrites]

Lost On You. Liam Mairi

TW!! Smut, Oral (M and F Receiving) reader has undisclosed scars on her legs, cockwarming,squirting, creampieing Minor minor angst, Not canon

Read at your own risk.

I do not own fourth wing it belongs to Rebecca Yarros.

This is my first work here

YN POV

It’s dark when we arrive. The cover of night and the storm that has freshly passed leaves the air smelling of salt and rain as the waves of the ocean lap at the shoreline far below the cliff edge.

“Something the matter?” a voice breaks off from the throng behind me, I don’t turn to see who it is though, eyes trained on the gorgeous display of stars. I never did night missions and this was my first. I pat the strong blue scaled foreleg of Durontei as I turn to look at the approaching rider. I raise my eyebrows in surprise when Liam stands there, his face flushed and a wineskin clasped in one hand. They must be celebrating then.

“That was fast” I quip, arms wrapped around my midsection as Durontei curls her scorpion tail around me with an obvious protectiveness. I glance up at her, watching her blink her golden eyes at Liam.

‘He’s not going to hurt me, you know.’

‘He has something to discuss with you.’ is all she says back as Deigh strides forward, swordtail swinging back and forth as he passes me and nudges his nose against Duronteis. Her tail unwinds from around me as she follows her mate and soon it’s just Liam and I standing alone on the cliff edge.

“So what do you want to talk about?” I swallow around the lump in my throat, hands tightening on my forearms as he takes a few steps closer. I can feel the anxiety radiating off of him as he watches me. I bend my knees subconsciously, stretching and keeping myself from tensing too much. Violet and I are too alike and it scares me sometimes. Especially because no one else knows. It’s the only reason no one treats me as fragile, not quite like everyone else does.

“Is it that obvious?” he asks almost breathlessly as he runs a hand through his hair. I tug on the band attached to my sleeve. It looped around my middle finger and kept the fabric from riding up.

“We took out that group of wyvern and successfully killed the venin controlling them.” he starts and I nod, watching as he attaches the wineskin to his belt before taking another step forward.

“There was a possibility of losing you today and that honestly scares the hell out of me.” His usually bright blue eyes are dark with emotion as he looks away from my eyes. My pulse jumps and my cheeks go warm as he steps closer again, now only about five feet away. I don’t move, too tense to move from my spot as he gets closer.

“I know we haven’t been able to see each other as often with me always being around Violet but I want you to know that you’re still my friend,” the word ‘friend’ makes my stomach knot and sink like a dead weight. I nod and attempt to clear my throat as I pull my shields tight around me. The door of my mothers front door locked tight to keep out Durontei’s thoughts as well as the surprising new link I have to Liam. I keep that tether of soft blue light tucked away from me, not wanting him to feel just how painful the word is.

“Thank you Liam. I appreciate that.” I lie through my teeth, clenching my jaw and praying that he doesn’t see through it. I can’t bring myself to look at him as I turn and start walking.

“Hey- where are you going?” he asks from behind me, confusion pulling at his speech and I bite back the sob that threatens to break from me as I wave a hand absently over my shoulder, tears streaking hot lines down my face. “Off to celebrate.”

Liam

I watch her back as she walks away, my grip tightening on my leg as I watch her walk away. She’s limping slightly and her shoulders are shifting in jerky motions. I don’t call after her, giving her some space as she disappears into the throng of tents spread out along the tunnel walls, walking deeper into the cave.

“What happened to confessing your feelings?” Xaden asks as he appears out of the shadows to my right and I surprisingly don’t react, unbothered by the appearance of my closest friend.

“I don’t know,” I start, running a hand through my hair and looking up at him as he stands beside me, arms crossed and dark eyes watching me expectantly.

“I froze, I didn’t know what to say.” I grit and he fucking rolls his eyes at me.

“Say what you think, if you can’t say it out loud tell her to through your bond.” my eyebrows jump up in surprise and he shakes his head.

“How do you-” “-also a part of a mated pair remember?” he cuts me off and gestures off to where Violet stands talking with our friends. Suddenly a lot of their behavior makes sense. The silent staring contests, knowing info as it’s being given.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised.” I scratch my rebellion relic absentmindedly as I glance off in the direction she had walked off. The thought of her hair having been pulled back away from her face, lines around her eyes and across her nose from her flight goggles made it impossible not to warm me.

“Do you feel this way about Violet?” I ask quietly and he pauses and watches me as I clench my fist against my flight leathers above my heart.

“Like you can’t breathe when she’s not right next to you?” Xaden looks down at the ground and adjusts his stand. I’ve known him long enough to know his tells.

“Yes” is a simple word but it shows how vulnerable he is when it comes to Violet.

“And do you think it’s worth telling her how you feel?” I ask and he looks at me again.

“I think it’s worth showing her if I can’t tell her.” He takes the final step closer to me, clapping a palm against my back before walking back towards Violet. I turn instead and walk into the crowd of tents and head in the direction of hers. How do I show her? Consensually without her kicking my ass at least. Heat flashes down my spine suddenly, hot pulsing need twists my stomach and I have to stagger between tents and fires to get to the cave wall. It’s rough and cold under my palm and I rest my forehead against it as another wave of heat washes over me. I squeeze my eyes shut as I pull at the neck of my leathers, heat building and making sweat slick my skin.

“Liam?” I turn at the sound of a new voice and nearly vomit when Violet stands in front of me.

“Oh shit are you-” she stops short when she looks me over and I look down when I see her lips curve up into a smirk. My eyes nearly bulge out of my head when I see the hard on currently stretching the fabric of my clothes.

“Shit! Violet, I don't know what's going on!” I whisper yell, turning quickly and she snickers behind me.

“Liam, it seems like Deigh and his mate are getting busy” she snorts and the heat under my skin flares bright. If Deigh and Durontei are doing what she’s implying then that means…..

I swallow hard and fight to control my aching body as she steps to the side.

“I saw her go into her tent a few minutes ago.” She gestures in the direction of the back of the cave and I don’t waste a second before bolting. If her dragon’s currently coupling with his then she could be just as affected by them as I am. I feel her down the bond, the gentle throbbing of our bond draws me towards her. I weave between tents and people, trying to keep my erection under control until I get to her. Another wave of heat nearly takes me to my knees as I stagger and shake my head.

As soon as my knees stop wobbling I try my best to straighten when I feel that heat simmering down our bond from her and I nearly come undone on the spot. I see the faint glow of a lantern through the fabric of the tent, in the faint flicker I see shadows moving and I bite back the groan that builds at the base of my throat.

I stand in front of the fabric that makes up the only barrier separating me from her. I breathe deeply and slowly before speaking, looking up at the glittering top of the cave.

“Hello? It’s Liam,” I hear something clatter and the shadow moves before the fabric of the door shifts and unbound hair hangs around a flushed face. Her lips are parted as she pants, wide eyes staring at me in obvious panic and surprise. She had changed out of her leathers and into a loose long sleeved shirt that cut a V down the center of her chest, a leather cord woven through it. A long dark skirt obscured her legs from me and I can’t help the image I’ve thought of before from flashing through my head.

“What can I do for you Li?” she asks me, her eyes still wide and I swallow hard, mouth dry as I suddenly am at a loss for words.

“Can I come in?” I ask after what feels like forever and nearly groan when she licks her bottom lip. Her pink tongue darting out and wetting her lips. “Yeah of course” She smiles at me and steps to the side to let me in. The first thing I notice is the smell of her that engulfs me. Soft and sweet and so uniquely her. A mat and a few blankets and pillows from the supply carts are spread about on the floor while her pack sits beside the entrance of the tent. I sit down on the blanket to the left and pull my boots off and set them to the side. She follows, hiking up her skirt to expose the scarred skin of her thighs and calves. I breathe through my nose and close my eyes for a moment, trying to center myself.

When I open my eyes she’s sitting beside me, her back to the entrance of the tent. Her knees are pulled to the side while she rests her hands in her lap.

YN POV

I fight the urge to lean into his warmth as I sit next to him, the urge to press my hands between my thighs to relieve some of the tension I’m feeling due to our dragons is strong but I don’t give in. I keep them in my lap as I sweat and try not to pant like a dog in heat as the man I’m desperately in love with sits beside me.

“So what did you want to talk-” I stop short and nearly topple over as a wave of heat flashes me from head to toe, warmth making my stomach tingle and my cunt throb as every brush of the fabric of my shirt touches my sensitive skin.

“Fuck” He groans, hunching and holding his stomach as he pants in front of me. I keep from reaching out and touching the pretty blonde locks of hair that are sweat slicked to his forehead and cheeks.

“I want you” He blurts and I still, I don’t even breathe as I process the words and he looks up. His pretty eyes watch me with such softness and lust that it makes me dizzy.

“I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in my life and it scares the shit out of me. I almost lost you and I realized that if I didn’t tell you, that if I was too much of a coward to do that then how am I worthy of you?” He runs a hand through his hair and my heart thunders in my chest as he looks at his rebellion relic.

“I’m cursed. I’m the son of a traitor and I have a lot of secrets,” he keeps going but he reaches out and takes my right hand. His skin is warm and rough against mine, the shine of the mark on his skin reflects off the candle light as he sits up on his knees and looks down at me, determination in his eyes as he gently cups my face with his free hand.

“Nothing can keep me from you. I’ve been in love with you since before Threshing and I’ll be damned if I didn’t at least tell you.” he looks so focused as I look up at him. His mouth pulls into a soft smile, dimple becoming visible on his cheek.

I open my mouth to respond but I gasp out instead as a shock of pleasure shoots down my spine. I grip his hand with one of mine and the other flies to his hip, holding on for stability as he curls in towards me at the same moment. I shake as my nipples pebble and brush against the fabric of the shirt. I swallow the saliva that’s pooling in my mouth as I fight to regain my composure.

“Fuck” he bites out, head dropping so that his mouth is pressed into the crown of my head, his warm breathing making my scalp tingle. I scratch my nails across the leathers and take a deep breath through my nose, cracking my eyes open and fighting the urge to moan at the tent in his pants.

“Are you okay?” he whispers against my hair and I nod shakily. The hand cupping my face squeezes my jaw and I part my lips, panting through my mouth as he pulls away and looks down at me with pupils blown wide, nearly swallowing the blue I love so much. His cheeks are flushed as I look him over, taking him in and soaking in the heat coming off him.

“I want you” I whisper and he goes very still.

“I feel barely worthy of you but here you are, bonded to me like our dragons are bonded to one another and you’re confessing your feelings for me. This is not quite how I was expecting this evening to go” I snort softly as my lips tilt up slightly. His eyes go soft and he leans down, pressing his mouth to mine and I don’t fight, closing my eyes and losing myself to the feeling of him as he holds my face close to his. He tastes like liquor and chocolate and when his tongue gently touches my bottom lip I eagerly part my lips for him. He moans deep into my mouth and tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss as his tongue slicks against mine.

That heat builds and builds all on its own now, his hands cupping my face while I hook my fingers into the waistband of his pants.

“Been wanting to kiss you for so long” he murmurs against my mouth, pulling away only for a moment to tug at the leathers and I waste no time helping him undo the ties and clasps.

Once he’s down to the black long sleeved shirt he wears underneath I can’t keep from sliding my hands under the warm fabric and allow my fingertips to trail up his stomach and abs.

He lets out a choked groan and slips a hand into the hair at the base of my neck and squeezes so that my neck arches to look up at him.

“Careful pretty girl,” he warns, sliding a hand down the side of my neck and under the neckline of my shirt. His large warm palm slides down my spine, his face nearing mine as his hand meets the small of my back and then he’s kissing me again and pulling me up against him, hooking an arm under my legs and laying me flat. I reach up, hands still under his shirt and wrap my arms around his neck and look down at the perfect muscles of his chest and stomach and then to the trail of blonde hair that leads down his navel.

“I want this off” I murmur against his mouth and he doesn’t hesitate in leaning back and pulling the fabric over his head and tossing it to the side. His chest is slick with sweat and the curling tail of his bond relic to Deigh disappears under his pants.

“Your turn” he grabs the hem of my shirt and I lift my arms and arch my back as he pulls the clothing from my body.

I shiver as the cool air touches my skin and Liam moans deep in his throat, my thighs clenching at the sound to apply some pressure.

“You’re so fucking pretty” He growls against the skin of my cheek as he trails his lips down the exposed expanse of skin.

“I’ve never seen your relic before” he runs a hand down the curve of my right side and I fight the shiver that crosses my skin, his warm fingers tracing the path of Durontei’s wings underneath my breasts, her head hovering over my belly button.

“Absolutely fucking gorgeous” he sounds absolutely wrecked when he says it and I shiver as his eyes take in my peaked nipples before he’s sucking one into his mouth. I gasp, wrapping an arm around his head and lacing my fingers in his hair as I rest my cheek on the side of his head, panting directly into his ear as he swirls his tongue around the sensitive skin of my chest.

Liam POV

I nearly come in my pants at the sound of her breathy little gasps. She knows exactly what she’s doing as I run my hands up her spine, pushing her back into an arch, her chest pressing up into my face. her cheek is pressed against the side of my head as I used the tip of my tongue to spell her name over and over across the sensitive flesh before swapping to the other nipple and giving it the same treatment.

“Liam please!” She whimpers into the shell of my ear, her lips brushing against me with each word. She’s flushed and panting, her fingers still curled into my hair as I look at the purple marks I left around her relic. I look down at the waistband of her skirt and then I grab the fabric by her knee and pull it up. She has two sheaths, one on each thigh and each armed with two knives each. Gods she’s so fucking sexy.

“Gods you’re so fucking beautiful” I tell her and she darts her eyes away bashfully but I don’t let that go, grabbing her chin gently and pulling her to look at me.

“Lemme taste you pretty girl, please?” another surge of heat flares in my spine and she gasps at the same time as my cock throbs in time with my heartbeat.

“Thank gods” I groan as I shove the fabric up to bunch around her hips and the sight before me absolutely undoes me. I shake as I see that she’s already bare underneath her skirt, leaving her gorgeous and on display. Her slick is smeared on the insides of her thighs, her cunt swollen and shiny as she tries to close her legs but I don’t let her. Holding her ankles apart and she whines.

“Were you touching yourself before I got here?” I murmur lowly and she stills, her cheeks ruddy and her eyes blinking up at me wetly.

“Fuck you where werent you” I throw my head back and swallow, hand running over my face as she gasps softly. I jump at the sudden feeling of her smaller hand brushing up my inner thigh towards my still throbbing hard on. I flush as I see the dark fabric and register the heavy wet feeling that surrounds my cock as she looks at the spot. I swallow down the embarrassment at the look of pure hunger in her eyes. She bites her plush bottom lip and then grips my hip with a hand and looks up at me.

“Was this because of me?” She whispers and I shudder as she licks her lips again and I nod slowly, gently I grab her hand, dragging it to the bulge in my pants. I hiss at the contact, still sensitive as I squeeze her hand around me softly.

“All of this is because of you” I tell her and move her hand over me. I bit down on my lip, fighting the urge to moan as I hear footsteps pass the tent. I press the back of my hand against my mouth as she leans forward and mouths at the cum soaked fabric of my pants, her warm tongue soaking the fabric even more as I throw my head back resisting the urge to just grab and fuck her.

“Wanna taste you Li, please.” She practically whines as she nuzzles my bulge again and I’m quick to unbuckle the belt and shove my pants down my thighs, my boxers following quickly after. The cool air against my cock makes me pant as I feel every part of my body tense. I look down at her spread out in front of me, propped up on her elbows and gazing at me from under her lashes as I stand and finish taking my clothes off, standing naked in front of her before I kneel in front of her again.

“Come here beautiful” I hold my hand out to her, tracing my fingers over her calf and ankle, marveling at the thin silver lines cut into her skin from her past.

I grip her ankle and press a kiss to the side of her foot before moving up her ankle and back up her calf. I make it past her knee and she whines, hands combing through my hair and tugging me to look at her.

“Wanted to taste you first” She’s fucking pouting at me as I look up from my spot, lips hovering over her thigh as I throw her leg over my shoulder.

“But baby I wanna take care of you.” I murmur, eyes never leaving hers as I brush my lips over her inner thigh, the skin prickling with gooseflesh as I breathe deeply. The scent of her makes me want to bury myself here forever. I could die happily between her legs.

“But-” I cut her off before she can get much further, using the flat of my tongue to lick the slick leaking from her pretty cunt, tasting her with a moan. She squeaks out and snaps her legs shut, throwing her head back. I wrap my arms around her thighs, humming into her warmth as I lick over the swollen bud above her center.

“Fuck Liam just like that!” She squeals and arches her back and I swirl my tongue around her clit, flicking it up and down as she shakes, squeezing her thighs tight around my head, my hearing being muffled by the strong muscles.

I wedge a hand under the small of her back while I use my middle and ring finger to circle her entrance before pressing them inside. She's tight and warm and pulsing around my fingers. The harder I lick the more she shakes. I’m kneeling over her at this point, her body folded in half for me as her hands hold my face tight against her. I don’t stop moving my tongue, don’t stop as she squeals and starts to push my head away.

“Liam please! Too much! Too much!” despite her words she digs her heels into my shoulders, holding me against her as she scratches her nails into my shoulders.

She’s close, I can feel it as she begins to spasm and I close my eyes sucking her clit into my mouth at the same time as I smack a hand over her mouth gently, her lips parting under my palm as she cums hard against my face. The gush of wetness floods my mouth and coats my chin as she spasms under my hold, her hands gripping the wrist of the hand covering her mouth.

Slowly I pull my hand back and unwind her legs from my head, my ears ringing slightly as I sit back on my heels and brush the hair out of my face with my damp hand. I watch her eyes flutter as I suck her juice soaked fingers into my mouth, sucking as much of her taste from my skin as I can.

YN POV

I lay in absolute bliss for a moment, slowly regaining the feeling in my fingers and toes first. I’ve never came that hard before in my life and he’s not even fucked me yet.

“How are you feeling?” he asks me, his voice hoarse as he wipes my slick from his chin. I flush warm as I let my eyes roam over his fucked out expression to the flush thats spread from his neck down his chest, my scratch marks line his shoulders and a few are even scabbing. He’s breathing heavily and I can’t help but look at the bobbing length of him in front of my face. I watch him take his fingers into his mouth and the way his eyes close in bliss. I don’t miss the way his cock jumps at the same time as he licks slick from his top lip. I unclip my sheaths and let them fall, my skirt quick to follow so that I’m laying naked under him.

His eyes open and watch me as I shakily shift to sit up on my knees, his hand extending to my waist to help steady me. I rest a hand on his chest, the other settling on his hip as I lean closer to him. I look up at him, eyes moving from those beautiful blues to his swollen lips.

“Let me take care of you?” I whisper against his mouth, his other hand grabbing my hair and holding me close, kissing me hard.

“Whatever you want it’s yours” he promises as I pull back and sit on my heels, gesturing for him to stand. Once he does I take his hand and pull him closer until he stands in front of me. He watches as I take his length in my hand, more long than girthy but he has a beautiful curve and he throbs in my palm, a prominent vein runs along the side and I slowly trace my thumb over it. He exhales a shaky moan but doesn’t look away as I take the swollen pink tip between my lips and lap up the pre that leaks onto my tongue. I feel his hand comb through my hair, pushing the hair away from my face and holding it in a loose fist at the back of my skull.

I begin to bob my head, hands settling on his thighs as saliva pools and drips in globs onto his thighs and my chest. With each thrust into my mouth I take him deeper and deeper, gagging when he touches the back of my throat.

“Fuck pretty girl.”

“That feels so fucking good”

“Don’t stop- please gorgeous”

“Gods look how good you look sucking my cock”

With every filthy word the more enthusiastic I become. I don’t relent until my nose is pressed into the patch of blonde hair at the base of his cock, his breathing ragged and deep as his thighs shake.

“I can feel you swallowing me down- barely even gagging look at you”

I bob my head faster and faster, letting him hold tight to my head and thrust his hips into my mouth.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck I’m close pretty girl”

“Where do you want it?”

“Your face? Your tits? Or do you want my cum on that pretty tongue?”

At his last words I swallow him down as deep as I can, sticking my tongue out as far as I can and he throws his head back, growling low in his throat as he snaps his hips forward. I hold onto his thighs and breathe when I can, my throat will be aching after this but I don’t care. If I’m making him feel this good then I don’t care what it does to me as long as I can see the way his eyes roll into the back of his head and his chest flushes.

“Cumming cumming cummingggggggg” He moans, hips jolting lightly as warmth fills my throat, I fight back from gagging and swallow every drop he gives me.

When I’m sure I’ve sucked him dry I attempt to pull back but he keeps a hand firmly on the back of my head, his cock has only softened slightly, his eyes sparkle as I look up at him in confusion.

“You just look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, just wanted to look at this sight a little longer” my belly warms at his words, his fingers carding through my hair as I lean my cheek against his thigh.

After a moment he slowly tugs my head back until his cock falls from my mouth wetly.

“How are you feeling?” He kneels in front of me and grabs my waterskin and hands it to me. I smile in thanks and take a few deep sips before handing it back and waiting until after he’s finished drinking before I move a little closer.

I let my eyes roam over his perfect body and the sharp curves of his jaw and the strong corded muscle in his arms and chest that flex under my touch. I trace my fingers over the bare skin of his shoulder and feel that warmth in my belly spread further through me, my blood warming as his eyes roam over me as well.

“What are you thinking?” he asks me softly, hand coming to gently trace my side before a finger circles my nipple, drawing a shaky breath from my lips.

“Fuck me” I don’t look away from him as the soft look in his eyes shifts to something more hungry, territorial.

“Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?” his voice drops a few octaves as he watches my mouth, fingers tugging at my nipples now. I wince and hiss at the sharp pain from the tugging but it only proves to make them more sensitive when he draws his fingers delicately over the swollen skin.

“I’m not gonna do it unless you tell me” he growls and I narrow my eyes on him.

“I just did-” the words are barely out when he’s grabbing me by the throat and pulling me close to him. He's strong and holding my throat tight enough to keep me in place but not enough to cut off my airflow.

“Are you giving me attitude?” His words are calmly deceptive as he narrows his own eyes at me and I can’t hide the way I clench my thighs in arousal because holy shit, he’s sexy when he's putting me in my place.

“If I am?” I ask slowly and he raises an eyebrow at me, lips narrowing into a straight line as he tilts his head.

“Then I can’t fuck you baby. Only good girls get cock.” He murmurs to me and my lips part in shock. No way, he wouldn’t.

“But-” “Come on pretty girl, be good for me and I’ll fill you up nicely for the rest of the night. You just need to ask politely” his smile is all sin as I snap my mouth closed and furrow my eyebrows.

I see movement somewhere below me and when I glance down I can’t help but stagger. He’s got a hand wrapped around his hard and leaking cock now standing at attention all over again as his eyes roam over me.

Liam POV

I watch her eyes as the cogs turn in her head. I touch myself, relieving some of the pressure as she watches. And then, she’s dropping back down to her knees on the blankets and lays down on her back, hair spread around her head like a halo. She spreads her legs so I can see the dripping slit practically calling me to it. She cups her breasts with her hands and I can’t help but take in the gorgeous pictures she’s putting on display for me.

“Please Liam, need you to fill me up so badly. Only you” She bites her lip and I can’t resist, can’t hold my composure as I fall onto her, catching myself as my hands hit the ground on either side of her head and she looks up at me with needy eyes.

“I love you” the way her eyes soften when she says it makes my heart soar and affection flares as I gently brush my lips across her cheeks, brushing the loose hair from her face.

“I love you” I whisper back and kiss her gently, then kiss both her cheeks and over the side of her neck. I hike her thighs up around my waist as I collect some of the slick from her cunt before smearing it over my cock.

I gently press the tip of my cock against her entrance, the warm wetness of her begging for me. I gently take one of her hands in mine, our fingers laced together as I press my hips forward. She’s so tight that I have to move slowly enough not to cum right then as she arches her back and moans. I lean over her quickly and press my mouth to hers. Her free arm comes up and wraps around my neck as she pants against my mouth. Once I’ve bottomed out I hold still, waiting the agonizing seconds until I can move.

I kiss over her face gently before pulling back slightly and then pushing back in. pleasure flares through me and she bites down on her lip as I slowly build a rhythm.

“Gods look at you taking me so well” I coo and lower myself over her, face tucking into the croak of her neck and breathing her in as I pick up the pace.

“Liam please- fuck you’re filling me so good” she scratches into my back, nails sinking deep and I know I’ll have fresh scars in the morning. Heat builds at the base of my spine as I sit back up and lean back on my heels and pull her half onto my lap, arching her back and I press my palm against her abdomen moaning low, just for her as I feel the quick press of my cockhead against my palm through the soft skin of her navel.

“Don’t worry pretty girl, I’ve got you I promise.” I grit out softly, the sound of wet skin slapping together and her soft moans fill the tent as she tightens around me until I can barely move.

“I’m gonna cum Li- Please I’m gonna cum” at her words I look down and meet her fucked out expression, her mouth hanging open and her wet pink tongue on display as I lean down and spit into her open mouth.

She arches and keens as she goes tight around me wetness coats my cock and sprays against my abdomen, soaking the blankets as she shakes. I thrust one, two, three more times before I pressed into her deep, my face buried in her chest as I filled her with my cum. I breathe her in and keep my arms wrapped around her as we both breathe in the quiet of her tent.

“Liam” she calls my name softly and I look down at her. She’s so soft beneath me and I can’t believe I get to hold her as she brushes her fingers over my cheek.

“I love you” She whispers and I lean into her touch, soaking in her warmth. “I love you”

[mintiicinnamonii]

Ok, so, idk if I missed the character limit so I'm sorry if it's too much, I also don't want to put any pressure on you either!

So! What if reader was half human half dragon? (I mean like, How to train your dragon kinda dragon)

Where they can either be human, half human/dragon (like, walking on their legs but being a bit taller than before, having scales instead of skin, wings and tail) and full dragon form (like toothless)

(I apologize if it's too complicated 😭)

Reader: gender neutral

Characters (romantic hc): Sun Wukong, Macaque and MK? (Maybe Mei Mei too if it's not pushing it)

Again, no pressure, and if it's too much I'll understand! Have a lovely day :D

Mei, MK, Wukong and Macaque with a dragon hybrid reader

(notes: MUAHAHAHAH YOU HAVE FED ME YOUNG ONE!! I didnt have much ideas but this was so fun!)

Mei

shes SOOO EXCITED

like?? a fellow dragon? a PRETTY ONE?!!

she asks if you breathe fire, and depending on your species you answer

you two go on joyrides in the sky <33

the second you transformed she was like 🫦

she is in AWE OF YOUUUU

she asks you so many questions about your species and you’re happy to answer them all

her fans think you’re a cosplayer 💀

she demands piggy back rides, and pulls your collar down to kiss you

”i love my tall partner”

she catches you hoarding gems and has a picture saved on her phone

her parents are like 🙌

you have asian parent approval congrats (im viet, so i should know)

—

MK

seductive monster x shy human real!!,

he was very intimidated at first, he thought you would eat him

but when you purr with your lil reptile noises hes SMITTEN

i hc that you pick him up and fly with him

hes happy he can relate to someone who can relate to having this animalistic side of their life

he blushes a lot. like.. you’re HELLA TALL and MK is probably short as hell so… add two and two together

you steal his stuff a lot and hoard it as treasure. he doesnt mind, as long as youre happy

you reach things on the top shelf for him. change my mind.

—

SWK

CUDDLE PILES!!!

you two fly in FFF together

SPIDERMAN/SKY KISSES BABYYYY

he thinks you look so graceful and pretty

you could kick his ass and he would say thank you

you spar with MK sometimes to help him and MK is FLABBERGASTED

imagine wukong getting into a stupid fight and you jsut swoop in and save him

he gives you as many treasures as possible for you to hoard

and when you’re in dragon form hes like 😳

mans thinking of situations. none of them are in the tripitaka/the buddhist bible

he tries to turn into a dragon, he cant do it

”sighhhhh i miss my tall pookie bear”

he leans on your shoulder

—

Macaque

he admires your strength, but not in the sense that Wukong does, more like respect and love

you go on nighttime flights together, its rlly relaxing

he pets you. fight me.

like dragon pookie = cat pookie

scratches, pets, distracting you with shiny things

you get rlly mad and then he just kisses you and youre like 😳

the only man that can calm you down

if you were dating before he joined the gang, POWER COUPLEEE

”hey babe ready to beat up wukongs student” “hold up lemme change firstttt”

he pulls you down with your collar to kiss you

hes still a massive flirt <33

i hc that you make little replite/cat sounds. the first time macaque heard them hes like “wait did you just”

he has teased you for it ever since

the dojo’s kinda small, so you have to duck to enter, and he literally CHANGED HIS DOOR so you can enter easily

[whumpster-fire]

Yet another reason T. T. Sutherland is a coward and a fool for going "Peril has never been touched in battle before, the dragonflame cactus was her first time experiencing real pain" and I refuse to accept it as canon:

Cooler Headcanon: the reason Peril immediately had the idea of burning the venom out of Clay's wound when he got bitten by the Dragonbite Viper was because she's had to do that to herself after getting puncture wounds from sandwings that injected venom past the superheated layer of skin. It didn't do as much damage to her as it did to Clay because Peril's pretty much completely fireproof even under the skin, so the scars are pretty small and not that noticeable, but she does have a few.

The couple times she de-venomed herself during a battle were pretty much the most metal thing ever to happen in Scarlet's arena. A dragon getting an apparently mortal wound, jamming her claws right into the open wound, writhing on the sand in apparent death throes, and then after like a minute getting back up with "smoke" rising from her eyes and nose as well as the bloody, sizzling puncture, and proceeding to limp across the arena and utterly destroy her terrified opponent.

The dragons she was fighting didn't try to finish her off because they'd already severely burned their tail barbs and probably talons and wings doing it and weren't going to risk getting hurt even worse by a dying dragon. Then of course when their one hope of killing her turned out not to work they kind of lost the will to live.

This contributed significantly to Peril's reputation as an invincible monster, but on the other hand seeing the queen's champion curled in a fetal position, screaming, sobbing and obviously trying not to pass out, made some of the spectators present for those fights somewhat remember that this was a 2-3 year old dragonet being thrown in the arena with full grown adult enemy soldiers, which was pretty messed up even if the small child kept winning. These feelings of sympathy were often diminished a bit by what Peril did to her opponents afterward, but Queen Scarlet was still not pleased, and after it happened two or three times she got a supply of the antidote cactus for "if a guard accidentally gets gotten by a sandwing prisoner" purposes.

Ruby absolutely never saw this because she made a point of watching fights in the arena as little as possible, especially Peril's for obvious reasons.

On the other hand I just thought of the perfect explanation for why Carnelian was like "I wonder if she remembers me?" when Peril showed up at JMA instead of freaking out like most of the dragons there. At some point, early in her career as a child soldier before she ended up in Ruby's unit, she was working in the palace and got voluntold to help out during an incident when Peril got stabbed in the shoulder or something where she couldn't reach with her claws so somebody had to very carefully burn the venom out with a red hot nail and a pair of tongs. Carnelian's actual job was probably something like holding a bucket of water and pouring it on the spear haft a third dragon was holding Peril's wing closed with, but she met Peril in a vulnerable state when she wasn't trying to perform for the crowd, and also saw her trying really hard to avoid accidentally injuring anyone, which led to her being one of a small number of skywings who are capable of being normal about Peril.

[animeshotsh]

Chubby Love | Various x Chubby!Reader

Summary: Sinners comes in all forms.

Warnings/notes: Chubby!reader - Mentions of insecurity - Reader has a body type - Reader sinner form is described!! - grammar mistakes -

Lucifer

He falls hard and does fall for real.

He was flying around, trying to clear up his mind when he noticed you. Your round cute form looked squishy from above, he took notice of your two reptail tails and how some other sinners seemed to be about to attack you.

In other times he would not care, but he decides to go down and put some orden.

Only to find out you are really badass and used your two tails to trow away these lowlifes.

Satan you almost hit him too.

And then he believes he has died. Because your suprised and blushed face greets him as you apologies to the king of hell himself for almost hitting him.

Him? He is in cloud nine. Please, he loves his S/O bigger than him, by all means hurt him, he is sure lust has made its away over him.

But no time for it!! He must be a gentlemen and says its alright then offers you help with your things.

And from there is all a love story. Lucifer is a gentle lover and a slow one. While he likes you he wants you to feel safe around him first.

His flirt is subtle yet noticianble so no one dares to try and get you.

When you two start to date this man is in cloud nine. He will hug you all the time, pressing his hands on your sides (asking if you feel ok with it) leaving kisses on your tummy and cheecks.

If he ever sees you feeling down then he is there to say the most cheesy yet loving things about you. Its not only your physical apparence but all of you. Your voice, personality, hobbies, likes...he could make up a song and play it for you.

Alastor / Cannibal tendencies

Listen. Alastor is cruel and actually likes big sinners because its more flesh. Its pure luck you meet him at the hotel where he cant hurt you.

But, heavens you have him salivating from time 0.

Your sheep like sinner form does not help. All that wool around you its making feel like a predator, eyes dark and theeth sharp.

Its only when he ends meeting you for real and having to pass time with you that his desire to eat you leaves.

His desire is different now. He cant put it in words but he cares about you. And only you.

His shadows are more open and will go after you to play with your hair and pull your wool. Hell they would even cuddle.

Alastor insists its them being them and will have a hard talk later.

Not that he dreams he could lay his head on your tummy and feel your soft wool. Nono, of course not!! Or how he wishes he could try just a bit of your flesh.

You would be part of him forever, right? Well he sees it that way.

Protective like hell. This man is know for being an ass to everybody so he wont let anyone be that to you.

No one will ever think on being that with you, everybody fears him.

Vox does a side comment about your body and his place gets attacked by a full form Alastor who does not kill him yet but does leave him pretty much hurt.

Vox

You probably work for him, having robot part did help you get the job. Plus you can turn yourself into a full ball and pretty much crush anyone and also go fast to pass messages that cant be trusted online under the risk of hackers.

Vox trust you so much and honestly never looked too much into how more or less chubby you are

You do your work well, amazing and he trusts you so much.

He would probably notice he is falling for you because of how you seem to appear in his records over and over.

Its not shy to ask you out and is rather direct about how he wants a serious relationship with you.

Stolas / Not married /

Imagine a big colorfull bird, with six eyes and two pair of wings.

Thats you.

Stolas falls hard. He meets you during a gala and does a double take when he sees you pass.

Its going towards you in seconds. And starts talking and falling over his words. Its only when you laught that he seems to relax.

Then he hears whispering from Stella and her friends (god he is so glad he was able to get out of that compromise). Turns to you to see you looking sad but trying to play it cool.

Decides to take you to a place with less peopel and asks his trustful servants to get him the best alcohol.

You two end talking and just talking, you open up about sometimes feeling bad because of what other says and how society expects you to be a centrain way.

He also opens up about his own insecurities and so you two bond.

You two start as friends but soon start dating. Its a fluff and soft relationstip. Stolas loves to show you his magic and also gets you the best clothes in the nine circles.

He is a cuddle monster and will pass all morning hugging you.

Getting his garden bigger and bigger its your favorite activity, you two can relax and be yourselfs.

Charlie x Reader x Vaggie / Platonic

Charlie meets you in the streets after a bad date. You have been crying a lot and its notable.

She asks you if you need help and offers you to stay ar the hotel with her and the rest.

Charlie knows you stand out, its not only your shape but also how colorfull for a sinner you are, while you are shy and quiet.

Vaggie also opens her arms to you. Maybe its her angel self looking out for you, but she just loves how you are.

Its normal to see you with Charlie or with her both inside and outside the hotel.

Husk

Dear satan Husk is lovesick the moment you walk inside the hotel.

Blames it to your mouse atributes and his own more like sinner form then accepts he is most likely bad heads for you.

Dating you its easy. He is actually an easy partner. Loves to cuddle and wrap his wings around you whenever he can. Whispers the most sweet thins so only you can hear. And when he can, he likes to tangle his tail with yours.

Angel Dust

Oh him....he sees you and says FUCK out loud.

Because DAM you do rock.

Maybe you dont think it yourself, but Angel tells you how sexy you are and dies inside seeing your blush.

Dies more if you flirt back.

Loves to use all his arms to hug you and pull you for kisses. When you two are in the open one of his hands will be on you.

~~~~~~~~~~