#As if it was a bad thing. As always people will run away or pretend they're above you to cover their insecurities or vulnerabilities.

[scarlett-draws]

Elsje Wodan/Jazker Gailladria

Rated: G

Tags: Pre-Oathbreak, Fake Dating, Fancy Ball, Pre-relationship, Non-Canon

The winter gala was coming to a close, and Elsje found herself awkwardly wandering the halls. The party was stuffy, and full of people never saying what they mean. It was enough to make Elsje go insane. Right now, she was looking for Jazker, the mastermind of this little charade.

For the past couple hours, people have been mistakenly under the impression that she and her lieutenant were married. Which was already horrifically inappropriate. She had agreed to come under the pretense of...

She sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose as she remembered Jazker's exact words.

'My mother and father require me to come with a... potential fiance.'

'So tell them you don't have one.'

'You don't understand Captain! They'll make my life a living hell.'

'And what, exactly, do you think I can do about it?'

'Well. A fiance is just a fiance, even if I had one I'd have to run back to you if you called. So in that sense, a Captain outranks a fiance!'

'That's the stupidest goddamn thing I've ever heard'

...And yet she was here. Somehow, though, this sentiment had gotten twisted around. She had set the record straight every time it had been brought up, but nothing seemed to make the rumor die. She took another sharp turn through the labyrinthine mansion, a servant startled and bowed. Just as Elsje was about to ask for directions, however, the servant darted away. Elsje sighed. Luckily, looking up she could partially see him through the glass door leading to the balcony outside. She strode up to him, closing the door with slightly more force than she had intended.

"Jazker."

"Captain!" He perked up immediately, a grin overtaking the small frown, "You're here! Finally, I was waiting for you to escape."

"I didn't escape, it's nearly over." She reported, 'Couldn't he have saved me from some of those conversations?' She thought bitterly.

He winces, "Ah. So next is the hard part."

Elsje blinks, "The hard part?"

"..Yeah." Jazker swirled some dark wine in a beautiful glass, "In the morning we need to have breakfast with them before we leave."

"Ah. I see, and likely clear up the rumors, as well." Elsje nodded. She knew Jazker didn't have the best relationship with his family (An understatement, to be sure), she was more than happy to endure a difficult party and meal if it meant her lieutenant wasn't alone.

Jazker raised his eyebrows, looking surprised, "Rumors?"

"That we are to be wed." Elsje spoke plaintively, and Jazker choked on his wine.

"Those bastards.." He muttered darkly, and Elsje cocked her head.

"It is an easily rectifiable mistake." Elsje said, studying the indecipherable emotion on her lieutenant's face.

"There wasn't any mistake. They probably started it themselves to make things difficult on you."

"Like you did, asking me to come? You must've known that making the comparison between Captain and fiance would make some misunderstand." She meant it lightly, but he winced like he was struck.

"I'm a lot more like them than I'd like to be." Jazker said miserably, and Elsje tensed.

There, leaning against the balcony, Jazker looked sad. His lips were set into a small frown, downturned eyes turned sad and downcast.

"I.. am sorry, that is not what I meant. I just dislike navigating those conversations. It always feels as if they are laughing at me, especially when they all ask about our upcoming wedding." Elsje said stiffly, moving closer to gently touch her shoulder to his arm. "I know you did not mean it that way."

He looked up, a small spark in his eyes at the touch. He smiled, resting his cheek in his hand as he looked down at her. "Don't worry Captain, you came through well. I'm proud you didn't punch anyone."

Elsje huffed in response, "Not for lack of wanting."

Jazker chuckled, low and sweet, "Besides, it can't have been too bad being my 'pretend' fiance." Elsje inhaled the night air, aware that her face was far hotter than it should be at the prospect. She was going to fiercely object the idea when he cut her off, "Relax, it was one time. You don't have to ask for my hand in marriage - yet."

Elsje choked on the night air, and Jazker laughed more heartily now. She glared at him from the corner of her eyes, but it softened when he sighed and leaned his head against her shoulder.

She didn't push him away, simply staring up at the full moon instead.

Prompt #1154

"Relax, it was one time. You don't have to ask for my hand in marriage - yet."

[whytheylosttheirminds]

don't call me kid chapter 9 part 2 sneak peak under the cut...as a treat 😋

Your very first swing landed you in a sand trap.

It was a welcome excuse to separate yourself from the group for a minute, though all the walking in this heat was already annoying you. You gave up on wheeling your worn down rented golf bag through the course, pretty much just dragging it behind you at this point. The other golfers were probably laughing at you, a sad sight as you trudged past them, sweating profusely and oh-so-over this whole excursion.

Approaching the sand trap, you heard a comically weak horn beep out from behind you, turning to see Topper approaching in his golf cart, Carter noticeably missing from the seat next to him.

“Hey li-“

You cut off his carrying voice before it could even reach you.

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘little Carter’ I will run you over with your own golf cart.”

He pivoted, the syllables he almost said still hanging on the tip of his tongue.

“Lil…shawty. Is what I was going to say,” the doubting look you gave him only made him double down. “Hey lil’ shawty, what’s good?”

You didn’t think it was possible for someone to make you laugh on this god awful day, but you cracked a smile at that, making Topper beam with pride.

“Ride with me,” he offered, not leaving room for you to turn down as he climbed from the cart and threw your clubs in the back.

“On one condition,” you said.

“What’s that?” He raised his eyebrows.

“You don’t make me dig my ball out of that sand trap.”

Without missing a beat, he pulled something from his pocket, leaning down as though he’d just discovered it on the ground.

“Wow, so crazy that I found your ball right here!” He tossed it to you with a wink and you gave him a grateful grin.

You slipped into the seat, your too-short skirt making your sweaty legs slide on the vinyl seat. Those caddies could eyefuck you all they wanted, nothing about this outfit made you feel sexy.

“Worn out already?” He nodded toward your hand, rubbing soothing circles into your calf muscle, sore from the walking already. “Bad news ‘cause we’ve got seventeen holes to go.”

“Good thing I have a strapping young chauffeur to cart me around then,” you patted his arm and he started up the cart.

“I got you sis.”

It was a nickname he’d called you in high school, always joking that he and Carter would get married, which she’d of course pretend to be annoyed by, smiling to herself in secret when she thought you couldn’t see. Now when he said it, a sadness singed the edges of the word. You gave him a frown, but he looked away, clearly wanting to avoid addressing the sadness you saw in his eyes.

You rode in silence for a few minutes as he caught up with the rest of your group at the second tee. When he pulled up, neither of you got out, sitting silently by each other, watching the group. 

Carter and Maddie were taking a selfie, holding up their clubs for the camera as Sabrina and Cassie compared outfits next to them. Behind them, Rafe lined up his shot, the other guys standing off to the side in polite reverence, taking the game entirely too seriously.

Topper watched Carter while you watched Rafe. The silence between you was palpable. Rafe finally took his swing, strong arms coming down hard as his broad torso twisted, leaving you no choice to think about how it felt below you in the car, and how it looked towering over you in your bedroom earlier today. 

Somewhere in Topper’s mind, you were sure he was having similar unwelcome flashbacks as Carter stretched her arms over her head, twisting her hips as she prepared for her turn at the tee. Truthfully, the two of you could not have picked more beautiful people to fall in love with. Clearly, it was working out really well for you both.

As though your thoughts were connected, Topper finally broke the silence, noting sarcastically “well we’re just a two man party over here aren’t we?”

You huffed a laugh, looking down at your fidgeting hands in your lap as an excuse to pull your eyes away from Rafe.

“Did you, um,” he struggled with the words, your narrowed eyes shooting up to him as you waited for the end of his question curiously. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

Topper cleared his throat, “what you said earlier in your bedroom? Do you really think I’m so used to being rejected that I wouldn’t be able to handle it if she finally admitted she loved me?”

You winced at the sound of your own cruel words being replayed back to you. You’d pulled no punches when Topper was just attempting to cheer you up, justifying your pettiness by blaming Rafe for your shitty mood. To his credit, Topper didn’t just lay down and take it, he put up his best fight.

“I don’t know. Did you really mean it when you said I can’t let him love me because I don’t actually love myself?” There was no malice in your tone, but a gentle reminder that he’d dished it out just as good as he got served.

His fallen face and avoidance of your eyes told you he regretted it just as much as you did, and your lean across the seat to bump his shoulder playfully told him all was forgiven. Siblings fight, after all.

As your gazes scanned back over the two loves of your lives, another cart came rolling past, stopping a few yards from where the two of you sat. A refreshment cart.

“Wanna get, like, stupid, sloppy drunk with me?” You suggested.

He was already turning the wheel in the direction of the drink cart, “you read my mind, lil’ shawty, you read my mind.”

[raayllum]

All of Ezran's speech is important and poignant and resonant throughout the series, but the most interesting lines I think for him as a character is, "I ignored something that was true. I denied something that is undeniable," because it hits at his most consistent character flaw.

Ezran runs away from news of Harrow's potential or outright demise (1x01, 2x08) because he hoped to hide from it. He hoped to deny it. This is similar to Callum ("I just hoped if I didn't think about it, somehow it wouldn't be true") but unlike his brother, Ezran struggles more with facing things head on. He goes back home to take the throne ("I can't run away from growing up") but struggles to fully commit and wear the crown. He pretends that other people's anger and grief don't exist because he's pretending that his own doesn't exist. He leans towards black-and-white thinking where it's all or nothing — putting all his anger towards Zubeia and Avizandum in a box so he can focus solely on loving them (on Zym's behalf) till the lid gets popped off and then it's directed only at Runaan — even in his initial belief that "we all want love and we all want peace" (which is why Prince "you want Janai to attack" Karim challenges him so very well from an ideological standpoint).

Because when Runaan shows up, Ez isn't able to ignore his anger anymore; and when Runaan shows up, Ezran still denies something, which is that this is Rayla's father and she loves him. That said, Ez definitely gets better at holding multiple angles / sides at once (nor is always bad at it, sometimes he excels at it), and I'm curious to see how "we're only making weapons so powerful so that we never have to use them" will tie into this character flaw in the future (as of course, some people will Want to use them).

[doomer-soyjack]

I don't know why people get so defensive and morally superior when you point out the nature of human relationships is transactional. I'm not denying or diminishing your "love", I'm just pointing something out.

[icewindandboringhorror]

It always seems a bit unbalanced on The Great Food Truck Race when there will be multiple teams who are cooking a wide variety of complex dishes with 10 different components and a bunch of prep work, and then there's that one team who like... exclusively serves plain crepes with some premade nutella on them, or plain waffles with just some whipped cream and cut up strawberries lol...

[peapod20001]

I wonder how many times I’ve googled whether I’m having a panic attack or an anxiety attack...

[deityofhearts]

do y’all remember on my previous blog when I made a post asking if ppl had fend for yourself night (because I was genuinely curious) and people assumed I was asking because I didn’t and called me all sorts of things like privileged, spoiled, ableist, selfish, etc and decided I was some rich spoiled person who never lifted a fibber despite the fact that I have always had fend for yourself night and grew up in poverty and that my sisters and I had to parent ourselves and take care of our mother more than she did us? isn’t it funny how this website has always lacked reading comprehension and basic empathy or the ability to think without attacking people based on facts they made up and decided is true?

[ineffectualdemon]

Since the OP made their post unrebloggable (and blocked me. Both actions they are well in with their right to do)

I'm going to make my response it's own post because I think the point is important

-

As someone who is autistic and has BPD and CPTSD and loads of trauma yes you sometimes need to change how you interact with others to keep people around

When I was 13 I hit the few friends I had when I was angry

I had to change that in order to keep those friendships

When I was in my early 20s if I was losing an disagreement with my husband I would threaten to kill myself. My husband told me it hurt him and was cruel and manipulative behaviour, because it was.

So I worked hard to change that to keep my relationship

It's easy to say "I shouldn't have to change for others" and that's true to an extent. You shouldn't change your interests or passions or dim your light. And you should have space to be imperfect and flawed and not have to pretend your ugly bits aren't real. But if something you are doing it causing other people harm you kinda need to change that.

That's called "living in a society"

People adapt to each other and make space for each other in their lives. You adapt to them and they adapt to you

You start being more diligent about throwing away the empty toilet roll because it really bothers them. They start warning you before they run the blender because you hate loud noises

I stopped threatening to kill myself because I was mad I was losing an argument and my husband stopped being so vocally judgemental amount media he personally dislikes

There is a certain type of person who heard the phrase "your emotions are valid" and took that to mean "my emotional reactions and my behaviour are always objectively correct because my emotions are valid and if you have an emotional response or react to what I'm doing negatively then you are wrong and you can't be hurt because my emotions are valid"

And that's a recipe for disaster

Your emotions are valid to feel. They are how you feel and there are reasons you feel the way you do

However, your reactions and behaviour are something you can learn to control and can be irrational

We live in a society and we as people change each other as we interact and that isn't necessarily a bad thing

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Nanny Wilson

Little Danny is almost lost in the mall when his parents suddenly run too fast in an attempt to catch up a ghost that their equipment has detected. Young Fenton is not a crybaby at all, but being alone without daddy and mommy is a little scary, so he begins to whimper and run around, trying to find familiar features in the blurry figures around him. Finally, he bumps into the thigh with a gun. It doesn't look much like an ectoblast, but dad is always inventing something new, so Danny quickly hugs this leg as hard as he can and begs loudly.

Danny: Daddy! Don't leave me! Slade: What the hell… Boy, I'm not your dad.

Danny blinks a few times and realizes that this man really doesn't look like Jack.

Danny: Oh. I'm sowwy. Can you help me find my daddy?

Slade: What makes you think I'm going to do this?

Danny: You have a gun and dad has a gun, so you're good. Are you here to hunt too? Slade: Something like that...What's your father's name, kid?

Jack: Danny! There you are!

A huge figure in a hazmat suit rushes towards them and Danny notices that his new friend is hastily hiding the weapon. To cheer up the man who is obviously meeting Jack Fenton for the first time, Danny smiles broadly. Dad may look scary, but he doesn't steal other people's toys.

Jack: Oh, thanks for looking after him. Our goal turned out to be too fast and we didn't even notice when our boy started to fall behind. Slade: No problem, colleague. Maddie: ? Danny: Kind uncle is also a hunter. Maddie: Oh, that's great! Em, sorry, but is there any chance that you have a time to look after our boy for a few days? We'll pay you well. You see, he rarely trusts people so quickly, and we absolutely do not have time to look for a replacement for our old nanny, and we really need to complete the last project as soon as possible.

Looking at the giggling boy trying to see if there are any other interesting things on him, Wilson decides that this will not be a bad experience in case he decides to establish a relationship with his found daughter.

Slade: All right, I'll take your order.

~~~About ten years later~~~

Danny, who is much more familiar with death than in canon, after being freshly ghosted: Damn, nanny will be so mad at me.

~~~~~ Danny: Hey, Slade. Do you want me to show you something cool? Slade: Not now, kid, nanny is cleaning up. Danny: Yeah, about that. *makes a corpse go through the ground* Ta-da! Can we talk now? Slade at the first second: *Surprised Pikachu face*. Slade when he notices a strange glow around Danny, like from ectoplasm in the lab of the boy's parents: >:( … >:( … >:( Danny: S-stop it!

~~~~~ Slade: And take out the bloodstains from those shirts too, they're my favorites. Danny: Oh dude, have you heard that child labor is illegal? Slade: Whoever doesn't help uncle Slade doesn't get a new knife for Christmas. Danny: Pfff…Now I'm my own weapon, come up with something new or I'll find myself a cooler mentor. Slade: Jackanapes!

~~~~~

When Wilson stumbles upon a distraught runaway Robin, he sincerely tries to take care of him as well as he took care of Danny. Deathstroke is an experienced babysitter, so there shouldn't be any problems with vigilante child being around on his missions. All children love knives, workouts and guns, right? Plus, staying alone when they are upset, as Jazz says, is unhealthy.

~~~~A few days later~~~~

Dick's thoughts: He wants to make me his evil sidekick, oh no! Wilson's thoughts: What's wrong with this kid? Batman so fucked up? Wayne needs to be stripped of his parental rights. I'm calling Jazz.

~~~~~

Wilson, who does not understand that he has been hanging out with Fentons too long, looks with perplexity at Grayson, who's running away from flying pieces of Maddie's pizza, then shoots some pepperoni and sits down at the table. It's going to be a long way. Poor boy.

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Fenton family is visiting Masters for the first time. Vlad tries to flirt with Maddie and then pretends to be good-natured while getting to know Danny.

Danny: I know 54 ways to kill you with this fork. If I were you I think I'd watch my mouth. Jack: He's joking, V-man. Danny: I'm not. Jack: He's just like his babysitter. They have such an unusual sense of humor. I think our boy really likes you! Usually Danny is too shy to talk like this with strangers. Vlad: Babysitter? Maddie: Yes, Mr. Wilson helped us out a lot and often did not even take payment. He's an angel. Vlad: I think I've heard that name somewhere before... Jack: Ugh, I want to introduce you anyway! Danny: Me too. Jack: Great. What about Wednesday? Danny: Dad, uncle might be busy. Let me ask him when he has time to, um, pay your old friend a visit.

[hello-eden]

Anchor

Tim Danny knew he would go far for family but it wasn't until now that he realized how far he literally would go.

Danny looked at the positive pregnancy test on the bathroom counter and tried to stop his tears both the joyful tears and the ones of anger.

He hates Vlad now more than ever for how he never decided to stabilize Dani. Even now that Danny is no longer Danny Vlad’s mistakes will still come back to bite him. 

Dani's decision to help Danny figure out what was going on ended up with her almost dying. Her core would have been destroyed if Danny had been a second later. 

Everyone's pretending things are back to normal.

Danny now has to figure out ways to hide this and how exactly he's going to tell anyone. The obvious answer is to not tell anyone and go into hiding, but after everything that happened someone's going to come look which means Danny is going to have to hide in plain sight.

Sometimes Danny regrets trying to help because in the end all it got him his throat slit, his entire identity ripped away and assassination attempts in his own home. Danny has no idea why he thought it would be any different now that Bruce is back.

Jason is barely civil with the family.

Dick has left the second he no longer has to be Batman. 

Stephanie has joined Cass and Hong Kong.  

Barbara is only talking to people when she's on Oracle Duty.

Damien is one bad Mission away from trying to kill him again. 

That's not even mentioning Bruce who is just living in ignorance that everything has not gone awry.

Denial is a strong thing. 

Danny doesn't even know why they agree to this. well they do know but they don't know why they didn't talk it out first.

they'd gotten quite good at getting all the logistics before they do something rash but they'll always be a Fenton running head first. All they want is for Dani to be safe after everything that happened; they are all secondary to Dani's well-being.

Danny forgot how unconditional love felt they are not going to lose the one person who cared about them 

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 01. IN DREAMS WE REST

a/n: i've been stressed about this fic probably more than any other i've ever written. not because it's logan per se, but because wade wilson makes me want to rip my hair out. i love that bastard, but writing him feels like pulling teeth. i'm in love with this concept solely for the angst, so if you see more throughout and wonder if they will ever get a happy ending, please know i'm dead inside. enjoy!

summary: stuck in another universe and unsure of where he stands, logan expects things to even out as they always did. but when you cross his path and you have no idea who he is, he's in for a rude awakening.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, angst, cussing so much cussing, alcohol consumption, grief, pain, a broken man pretending he's not broken, chance encounters, awkward conversations, hope.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He can hear it when he sleeps.

Their screams.

The constant ring of agony that chimes out like a bell, an alarm he never set for himself. A joke once told to him in the midst of World War II, as bullets flew by him and soldiers lost their lives each second of each day. There's no escape from hell. No running from the devil that nipped at his heels the faster he went, the longer he tried to navigate a way free.

There's no escape from the memories that ate away in his mind. Multitudes of them, of the faces he once called family, the people he used to love. They were his punishment. The boulder he continued to roll up the hill, day after day after day. Until eventually...he was crushed by his own self-hatred.

"Logan." The voice whispered long enough for him to grasp who it might be, yet never louder than a mere breath of air.

He clung to it some days. Sunk his claws into what little of his past remained good and allowed it to fill him with some amount of peace. At least then he'd be able to bear this weight, this grief he could never quite name.

Something light brushed across his cheek. Tickling the skin enough to send a flare of irritation down his spine, but the dreams held him in their grasp. What came next never surprised him. He expected it at this point—longed for it. The distant pain of losing what once made him whole; the entirety of his life now defined by one single moment he could never change.

"He sleeps so sweetly. I just want to curl up in his arms and have him read me bedtime stories."

"He's not gonna like that when he wakes up."

"Zip it Al. If I wanted an opinion, I'd go see a Hollywood therapist."

A scoff echoed in the background. "No therapist wants you on their couch."

"Not true. I hear Ryan Reynolds has a great one."

"Who?"

"Not the point." The feather dusted across Logan's face again, soft enough to keep him asleep yet annoying enough to bring a smile to Wade's face. "I wonder if he's dreaming about killing bad guys. They say it's good for the soul."

"Who the fuck is they?"

Wade laughed. "Oh you know. Them. The readers. And boy howdy do they love their blood."

Every day he was forced to listen to Wade's voice became another day Logan dragged his claw through a tally mark of his sanity. "Do you ever shut the fuck up," he growled, gripping Wade's wrist until he heard the satisfying crack of bones.

"Only when I swallow."

"I'll tear your fuckin' arm off."

The smile on Wade’s face only added another tally. "Nice kitty. No need for the claws."

Anger washed across his skin in a familiar wave as he released Wade's arm, watching it go limp. Trying to kill the unkillable walking irritation was like trying to swat a fly that never quite died. It still buzzed incessantly. Until eventually madness was the only viable option of dealing with it. In his case, he seemed to be driving head on with no brakes.

Logan wasn't sure he possessed enough sanity left within him to keep dealing with this. Sleeping on the couch didn't help the way his body never rested; always stuck in that permanent fighting mode. He'd give anything to find some peace. A small sliver of it carved off the past that continued to call him—that begged him to come back and try again.

Swinging his legs off the couch, he planted a swift kick to Wade's chest that sent him across the floor. The lack of caffeine in his system left everything hazy and half coherent. If he focused he might have caught the keys thrown at him, but being exhausted and sober didn't make for a good combination with him. An empty whiskey bottle lay discarded on the floor from last night; the memories of how he passed out barely tinged on the edge of his mind.

He could recall stabbing Wade in the leg.

Nothing beyond that.

Dried blood—now an ugly brown—stained his white shirt. He nearly stripped himself of it, prepared to throw it in with whoever was washing next, but his flannel being chucked at his head caught him off guard.

"Fuck off," he snapped, stumbling to the kitchen.

Wade sighed, following him. "Get dressed, peanut. We have to go do human things today."

"Human–”

"Food," Al retorted. "We're out."

Even in a new universe, he couldn't see himself acting normal. For so long he did what had to in order to survive. Yet now...he wasn't so sure. Accompanying Wade Wilson in order to complete household chores left a bad taste in his mouth. But the thought of fresh coffee and an unopened bottle of whiskey sounded like sweet silver bells in his head.

With reluctance, he buttoned up half of the flannel before he became annoyed with the small size of the holes punched into the fabric. There was only so much he could do with the life he had now. And sometimes shit really sucked.

"Don't scratch my fucking car," Al pointed her words towards Wade, thankfully ignoring Logan's existence for a brief moment.

"Is it safe for her to own a car?"

The door shut behind him with a bang, echoing down the vacant hallway. He was surprised people actually lived here given Wade's antics. They could hear the loud mouthed fucker across the street—if the angry notes in the mail were anything to go by. He didn't bother asking if he should be concerned with any of it. Not when he had no say in how the house was run. And choosing to insert himself where he wasn’t needed, rarely went well for him.

"God no. But I give her the benefit of the doubt. She hasn't killed anyone. Yet."

He yanked the keys out of Wade's hand. "Yeah well I don't trust you either Bub."

The car didn't leave room for his legs as he squeezed into the driver's side. His body practically folded in half as he turned it over—the rumble of the engine rattling against metal. How Blind Al managed to pay for this vehicle went beyond even Wade's knowledge, and in all honesty…he was too fucking scared to ask.

Too much seemed to be happening for him to ever catch up. While this Earth felt similar to his, small things were different. And when they began to add up...he began to wonder if he was drowning.

"Turn left to merge onto the asscrack of traffic."

He barely heard the directions as he drove, his mind drifting the further they went. Part of him sensed the grief from earlier begin to claw up the back of his throat. It begged him to fall, to be swallowed whole by the darkness he'd been stuck in before. And he nearly gave in; could feel his body shift into its constant mode of fight or flight.

The steering wheel cracked under his white knuckled grip as Wade's voice became an afterthought to the war he fought in his mind. Terror trapped itself in his throat and he slammed his foot on the brakes a foot away from a parking spot in retaliation. The car lurched forward, his claws descended. A snarl rumbled in his chest the longer he sat there thinking.

"Woah..." For the first time in days, Wade fell silent. "You alright?"

Logan ripped himself free, shoving his body out of the car before he even threw it in park. He gulped in breath after breath and did his best to wait for this fucking feeling to leave his system. The nightmares only came as he slept. A constant familiar horror show after two centuries.

Yet now he was left like this. Leaned up against a car, his eyes closed shut, and heart racing.

All because he couldn't do his fucking job.

"Logan–"

He snapped, shoving past Wade and his pity that choked him with a vengeance. He didn't deserve anyone's pity. He didn't want it. But people couldn't help but hand it over unconsciously. As if they could see the layers of broken pieces beneath his false expression of strength. Logan never pretended to be okay. Why bother with something people could see right through?

He merely wanted others to ignore he was there. Walk past him, look through him, do whatever it took to pretend that him and all his tragedies weren't standing before them. Because one day he would die and fuck how he couldn't wait for that time to come.

A small hole in the wall dive bar sat in the corner of the shopping center. He barely caught sight of it. But the unmistakable scent of alcohol poured out the door as someone stumbled out—their eyes squeezed shut against the harsh brightness of the sun. He could understand them in a way.

His world didn't have sunlight this bright. Or perhaps he never noticed it ‘til now.

Maybe his body wasn't acclimated yet; unsure of what the fuck was still happening. Everything seemed to be turned up to eleven for him, yet no off switch existed.

The dark hazy glow of the interior sent a wave of calm through him as the door swung shut with a soft thud. Four people sat scattered around the place and a bartender with white and graying hair stood cleaning a glass so foggy it was probably better to throw it out. He found himself letting out a breath that'd been trapped in his chest since that morning. Finally some peace before he had to listen to Wade yap about bullshit he didn't in fact give a shit about.

"What'll you have?" the old man asked, his face screwing up in a wince as he limped towards Logan's spot at the end of the bar.

A quick glance down let him see the brace wrapped around the man's knee. "Whiskey on the rocks."

He nodded, slowly heading towards the center of the wall—a lonesome half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. Logan shifted, taking the center seat directly behind the man.

"I can't say I've seen you around before son."

He grinned, his finger tracing a random carving that'd been placed in the wood. "I just moved here. Living with a coworker."

"Coworker huh?"

The word didn't sound right to Logan, but he couldn't exactly call Wade his friend. Although they were more than people who fought together, more than men who shared blood during the same battle. That was the thing about Logan though. He'd never be able to put a label on something like that. To him...things weren't one or the other as much as he wanted to pretend they were. There was nuance to his life.

Complications which made living that much harder.

The man turned, surprised to see Logan so close, but didn't make note of it. Logan could see the gratitude in the way his drink was slid carefully to him. The small silent thank you in the bowl of pretzels placed beside it.

"You look lost."

Logan grunted, biting into the salty and dry snack. "Do I?"

"More than some of the others that come around here."

"And who comes around here?"

The man laughed. "No one as of late. You're the first young man I've seen in a while walk through those doors."

He bit back his laugh at the word young. The stories he could tell would leave the man baffled. About wars that no living person had witnessed. About when the world was far different than today—when mutants were freaks of nature and humans were far less forgiving. He could list it all and then some.

But whether or not someone would listen was another thing entirely.

"This place that old?" he inquired, sipping on the amber liquid with a contented sigh.

"Oh you bet." A weary laugh filled the space. "I bought this place in the sixties. When my wife was still my girlfriend. She almost left me because of it."

Logan huffed, his lips curling slightly. "She wasn't a fan?"

The man shook his head, tossing a cloth over his shoulder. "Still isn't. Well she...wasn't." He pressed his thumb to the worn gold band on his left hand. "When she was alive she used to host a book night. Helped bring in the men's wives. Kept them outta trouble."

"Book night huh?"

"She loved to read."

Before he could down the final sips of his drink it was topped off. Logan nodded his head in thanks, his thumb digging into the thumbprint shape of the glass. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost see himself coming here every night. He pictured a life far different than his own, a past where he might have been happy. With someone who might have even made him smile.

"I'm not much of a reader," he replied, his voice hoarse and eyes fixed on the ice that floated to the surface.

"Ah me too," the man laughed. "I just liked seeing her smile."

A soft remark was on the tip of his tongue before an entirely new image began to take shape. The face of someone lost. Of a smile he'd known better than his own. Hands that once held his face with the tenderness of a lover—a voice that sent the hair rising on the back of his neck. He could see it as clear as he did the man.

You in all your beauty. Lost to a past he could no longer rectify.

He swallowed thickly, beating back every emotion that crawled under his skin. "What's your name?"

"Travis."

Raising his glass, he tipped it towards the man with a tight grin. "Logan." The alcohol went down with a quick and biting burn. A feeling he'd grown familiar with. One he counted on.

"Nice to meet you Logan."

"Yeah you too."

He dug out some cash and tossed it on the bar as he stood with a slight grunt. He may heal quickly but the ache in his bones still existed. As if something resisted against how his body moved with each slow shift.

Fighting meant he could ignore it.

Existing is what made it worse.

The sun practically burned his eyes when he stepped out, the heat of the day encompassing his whole body quicker than he would have liked. For some unknown fucking reason, summer here felt worse than on his Earth. Then again the alcohol didn't help. He stood in the shade of the building next to the bar, searching the parking lot for any sign of Wade.

Going into the store wasn't an option and as much as he wanted to leave the annoyance behind, he didn't want to feel like a piece of shit. That is...even more than he already did.

"Fuck," he hissed, leaning against the brick wall. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

One option would be taking a walk to work off the energy that ran through his veins. At least then he'd be able to sleep at night. And the temptation almost worked. If it weren't for the shop doors that opened to his left, effectively distracting him from the chance of leaving. He could have ignored the person, probably should have given everything he'd been through.

But then his heart dropped to his stomach as you walked out. He'd never seen you in such a soft sundress before, the off white fabric draped off your curves in a way that floored him. As if you were an angel floating by without a care in the world. You were busy shoving a small piece of paper in your purse, your face furrowed in frustration, and Logan smiled. Because he'd traced each line of that face before, he'd kissed those cheeks, your eyelids as you slept.

He'd loved you in ways that would scare a normal human.

And there you were.

"Honey?" he called, unconsciously following you quicker than he intended to. "Honey."

You glanced to the side, completely unaware of the giant lumbering man trailing after you with a soft look on his face and hope in his hands.

That alone tore him in two more than the memories from before.

"Baby, it's me."

The breeze finally went through the air, pushing the skirt of your dress a bit higher on your thighs. Except that's not what he latched onto. Your scent was different. Unlike any he'd encountered before. Honey still sweetly caressed his senses, but flowers overlayed that—peonies if he guessed. Delicious enough to have his mouth watering; his body already aching for you to be closer. To look at him in the way you used to.

He wanted to call out to you—gain your attention properly—but your name wouldn't leave his tongue. Because you were there and you finally caught sight of him and you were looking at him as if nothing bad ever happened between the two of you.

You saw him as a man.

Not a disappointment.

He willed himself to stop and breathe. Take in his surroundings; realize that you weren't who he once knew. You weren't even the same fucking person.

But before he could think straight, he'd already followed you halfway to your car. His eyes were dazed, heart nearly throttling him alive as he stood there dumbly. Waiting for you to finally speak.

"Oh..." Your heart rate spiked quicker than he expected. He couldn't find it in himself to feel bad though. "Hello?"

"Honey," he sighed, the weight on his shoulders lifting ever so slightly.

He caught the way your fingers tightened around your keys, the defense mechanism an instinct by now. And Logan realized what he looked like. A strange man standing too close for your liking. So he took a step back and gave you some space. In the hopes that you wouldn't see him as a threat. That maybe...you'd listen to what he had to say.

"Can I help you?" you asked, eyes darting around the parking lot in case you needed help.

What he wouldn't give for the opportunity to reassure you. To explain that he wasn't here to hurt you. That he'd kill himself before even laying a hand on you. Yet the correct words were lost and all he seemed to get out was an incoherent babble that had him wanting to dig his own claws into his chest.

"You smell different."

You straightened your spine, eyes narrowed into a glare he felt burn across his skin. "Look, I don't know who you are. But fuck off."

Something akin to pride flared in his chest at your tone, your words. But he couldn't show it externally. How would he explain that your fight—your fire—is what drew him to you in the first place? How could he tell you about a version of yourself you'd never know? A person he thought would be with him until his last breath exhaled into the world.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He raised his hands in an attempt to prove his point, but like your variant counterpart you were willing to bite first and ask questions later.

"Yeah. Sure asshole." The shopping bag in your other hand was lifted up, until you had a tighter grip on it in case something happened. You didn't know him. You probably never would.

But Logan had to try. He owed it to you to give it all he had this time around.

Otherwise...what was the point of living?

"My name's–" He made the wrong move stepping forward and knew it the second his boot hit the gravel. With a wince, he watched you stumble back against your car, your arm coming up to protect yourself. "No. Look I'm not gonna do anything–"

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit.

He moved back as if approaching a wounded animal—his body finally on edge in a new way. The fact that you didn't know him wasn't what broke off another chunk of his heart. He could handle that. He'd been through that.

You were afraid of him.

That realization dug in too deep for his body to heal.

That...he couldn't live with.

"WOAH hey!" He'd never appreciated Wade's irritating ass more than in this moment. He jumped between the two of you, the cart of groceries forgotten as he blocked Logan from your sight. "Step away from the nice lady wolf boy." Wade regarded you with a smile. "Hi! Sorry. This is my uncle and well as you can probably tell he's lost eight of his lives. So we're going on little old nine. And well the mind just goes to shit first."

Seconds passed by like minutes and Logan watched you visibly deflate. "Wade," you greeted him, visibly calmer than before. Logan felt his stomach twist violently at the thought. "It's good to see you. How's the job?"

"Oh yup you know. Left that. But I'm really pushing through. I've got an Etsy store where I sell miniature paintings of Michael Angelo's David's penis. So there's that."

Your laughter sent a hole through his chest and Logan bit back the growl that rose up the back of his throat. What the fuck was Wade doing making friends with you? Why were you laughing at his humor?

He couldn't count how many days he'd spent longing to hear your laugh again, the shine in your eyes that always came around when joy flooded your bloodstream. He could smell the honey off your skin, the warmth of what no doubt lay beneath your thin dress. And he wanted to rip Wade to pieces knowing that he was the one making it happen. That you were comfortable with a man who's mouth ran at a mile a minute.

"Did your sister have the baby yet?"

You brightened and Logan felt his heart stutter. "She did! A boy."

"Named Wade I hope."

Another peal of laughter had Logan's claws itching to descend as you ignored he was there. "Theo actually. A cutie."

"Aww." Wade moved closer, head bent to see the small polaroid you pulled out of your wallet. "Wow, he looks like you'd find him in a Gerber's advertisement."

Your eyes drifted up, past Wade's shoulder, until you finally caught Logan's gaze. And he felt like he could breathe. Every ounce of fear was wiped from your face; interest now creeping in as you dragged your eyes down his form. Past the slight peek of chest hair and down to how his jeans hugged his hips. Logan stood taller for your benefit, as if he needed to make a good impression.

He wanted to linger in your mind for days. Until the curiosity ate you alive.

"We're gonna go," Wade announced, after grabbing your bag and placing it in your trunk for you. "Someone has to feed the blind woman in my apartment. She tends to root through everything looking for food." He gripped Logan's arm, shoving him back a good few feet. Even as your eyes still remained glued to his face. "Glad to see the Hyundai is still working. You know you could take the fattest fucking nap in the back of that puppy. Makes you feel like an Egyptian mummy."

"Bye," you said, a dazed look in your eyes as Logan smiled in your direction. At ease with the knowledge that even in a different universe, he could still fluster you with a look.

Dragging himself away from you was hell, but Wade's grip remained unbreakable as they clambered to the car. The groceries stacked in the small backseat.

He could glimpse you driving off and suddenly the nightmare from earlier was the last thing on his mind.

Wade's back hit the wall with a crack before the door could shut properly. The groceries in their hands toppled to the floor. He barely had time to duck before Logan's claws were aiming for his head—a snarl ripping from his throat.

"What the fuck?" Wade shouted, grabbing the paper bag and gently setting it on the table. "Next time just say you need to stay home and find some joy in an empty room and your hand."

"How do you know her?"

Wade smiled, assessing the furious state of chaos Logan was now left in. The tatters of his stability falling to the floor around him. For as much as he held himself together, it certainly remained easy enough to tear him a part.

"Got an eye on someone, do we honey badger?"

Logan grimaced, running a hand down his face. "Would you just fucking tell me?"

"Let me bask in this Logan. I'm about to watch a romcom come to life and need some popcorn." He rummaged through the bag, yanking out some chips. "Salty and sweet. That'll do."

"Wade," he bit out.

"Stick with us girls, we're about to get to the good stuff."

"WADE!"

He tossed the bag to the table, eyeing the way Logan never quite settled. "I'm gonna take a guess and say we know her more than just friendly hellos."

Logan couldn't answer because his grief did it for him. He did what he could to catch his breath, to stop seeing his version of you. The disappointment on your face, the pain in your voice. You'd been so angry with him. To watch the person he loved be reduced to a screaming crying mess wasn't something he wanted to relive, but Wade's question seemed to send an avalanche toppling to the ground.

"She's..." He sucked in a breath. "On my world. I...knew her."

"Knew her? Or knew her."

He reached for the bottle of whiskey Wade threw in with the rest of the groceries and popped it open before he spoke again. "It didn't end well between us. None of it did."

Wade fell silent and Logan found himself loathing the quiet more than the sound of his voice. If he was joking Logan could ignore it. He could pretend nothing happened. That you weren't here, you couldn't be hurt by him again.

You were safe from his destructive tendencies as long as you were in another universe.

"She lives across the street." Logan's head rose and whipped to see the window that faced the building across from them. "The old uncultured shit whistles that keep complaining about WHAM! the greatest thing to happen to music. They're her neighbors. Live right next door."

"Neighbors."

Wade nodded, offering him a chip. "She found their note and angel that she is, she very sweetly threatened to get them evicted. I offered to let her borrow my katanas but was rejected like younger me on prom night. You've really got yourself a catch there buddy."

Logan didn't need Wade to tell him how fucking lucky he was. He knew that the second you walked out of that store. You were everything good in his life at one point, everything he couldn't save. There wasn't much keeping him going on his old Earth, but having you made all the suffering he went through—all the pain he endured—worth it.

If you were waiting for him at the end, he'd do it all over again.

"So you want to take a dip in that honey huh? Taste that rainbow?"

His claws would have sunk into Wade's throat if a knock hadn't sounded at the door. With a huff, he stepped into the kitchen, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Whoever decided to give Wade some luck was of no concern to him.

Or so he believed.

"I didn't mean to accidentally take your groceries," you laughed, handing over a overpacked paper bag.

Stuffing the bottle under the sink, he met you halfway to the living room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you still in that dress. Still delicate enough for him to rip if he tugged it right. Heat curled along the base of his spine when your eyes met his, wide and glimmering with your laughter. He felt himself crumple at the sight of your lips parting, the surprise at his size still enough to make you speechless.

"Good to see you again," he greeted you, voice low and soft.

You didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, but something about the way his gaze devoured you within seconds left you breathless. The swooping sensation in your stomach became too much to handle. Desire and attraction weren't unknown concepts to you. But this felt like more. You could sense him right down to your bones and it scared the shit out of you.

"Oh right!" Wade scooched past you to swing an arm around Logan's shoulders. He did what he could to not stab him in the stomach. "This is Logan. My hunky new roommate."

Logan groaned. "Alright–"

"No, no it's good. You remember when I was declared basically the savior of the universe?"

Your face screwed up in confusion. Logan had never wanted to kiss someone more.

"Marvel...Jesus right?"

"I prefer MJ. Since I've got a Peter." Wade's head whipped to the side. "Suck it Tom Holland." His grip on Logan tightened. "This walking People's Sexiest Magazine helped. We're talking big claws, abs you just want to lick whipped cream off of–"

Logan's elbow slammed into Wade's stomach—crimson slowly tinting the tips of his ears. "That's enough."

"AND the Wolverine."

Surprised etched itself onto your face even further. Until you finally regarded Logan with a look he'd seen once before. Awe. When you first met one another in the halls of the mansion, you stared at him that exact way. As if you couldn't quite believe that iconic figure the X-Men made him out to be actually existed.

He couldn't tell if he liked it. Or if he'd rather you view him as a stranger.

"Logan," he said, offering his hand to you politely. Your skin remained as soft as he remembered.

Warmth bloomed in your body at the feeling of his calloused palm overwhelming yours, the scars across his knuckles old and ancient. Yet you found yourself wanting to trace them over and over, until the sight of them seared in your mind. You fought the urge to press your lips to them, etch your own mark into his skin. Something told you he wouldn’t mind.

Logan could see the intrigue on your face—the distracted gaze he wanted to keep in place. You were still curious. Still willing to learn about him. To pick him a part with soft words and even softer touches.

"Logan," you murmured under your breath, your eyes catching his. He felt his stomach leap at the sound of your voice whispering his name. Memories flooding his mind quicker than he expected. Of mornings spent in bed, your skin pressed against his. Of nights alone in his cabin—your stories lulling him to sleep.

Everything he willed himself to forget, yet could never truly let go of.

"I've got to head back." Disappointment filled your heart at the thought of not getting a chance to talk to him more. He had yet to let go of your hand and you found you liked his touch on your skin. "I'll see you soon Wade."

"Logan will be more than happy to walk you back," Wade replied, waving drastically behind your back. "Can't have you getting hurt now can we? Right peanut?"

You smiled. "I'm just across the street."

"I don't mind," Logan cut in, glaring at Wade to shut the fuck up.

"Okay," your voice was soft. Happy.

Logan would have done anything to keep it that way.

The walk back wasn't long enough for him to explain his actions from earlier, but you seemed to be just as smart as your variant self. Shutting the building's door, you turned to him—your dress fluttering in the breeze. Logan choked on his spit at the slight peek of your ass before you pushed the skirt back down around you.

"Did you know me?" You lead him to the corner, waiting for the traffic to die down. "On your Earth."

He paused, his eyebrows pulling together, and for a moment you wondered if you asked the wrong question. Wade told you bits and pieces of what happened since you last saw him, but Logan's background wasn't a discussion you tried to seek out. All you knew was that Wade acquired a new roommate. Not even a name.

Certainly not that he was Wolverine.

"Yes," Logan muttered, glancing at the change in lights.

You started to walk. "In what way?"

His hands curled into fists—echoes of his past rising to the surface. "We were...friends. You're a professor."

"A professor?" you exclaimed, a smile tugging on your lips. "Am I a mutant?"

He nodded. "You're able to bend time. Or control it." He snorted, following your lead towards your building. "I could never understand it. But Charles did."

The walk up to your apartment was silent, your thoughts filled with the new information he'd given you. And no matter how hard you tried to picture it, you couldn't see yourself as a mutant. A powerful being that held the ability to manipulate time who just so happened to be a professor. Somehow even thinking about it made you wonder why Logan was bothering to entertain this version of you. When the better one existed on his Earth.

"You said were."

Stopping at your door, he nearly knocked into you. "Hm?"

"Were friends. What happened?"

The answer he couldn't give you. The words he wouldn't even admit out loud to himself.

He felt his heart twist as if a knife slowly carved through his spleen. "We uh..." He coughed. "You..."

"I don't have to know." Grasping gently onto his arm, you offered a warm smile he felt down to his toes. A look he hadn't seen in quite some time. Logan could picture the last day you were happy in his head. Laughing with Charles in his office as you shared dinner, working on theories of your powers late into the night.

A week before they came.

"It's good to see you like this," he breathed, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek before stopping midair. "Happy."

Your eyebrows knit together. "I wasn't happy?"

"No." What he wouldn't give to take that information back, but it was out in the open, and as always—he remained too late.

"Why?" you asked, your hand sliding down to his much to his delight.

"I made you a promise." He sucked in a breath, his body begging him to start running. You'd be better off if you never knew. If you never remembered him in the first place. "I couldn't keep it."

I'll always keep you safe.

Words he refused to say again.

How could he promise this version of you that? How could he look you in the eyes and lie again? Breaking his Earth's you would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't fathom doing it all over. It would kill him.

Except you weren't the person in his mind. You weren't the mutant who hated him with every fiber of your being. You were you. A continuous surprise that left his heart stuttering in his chest each time you looked his way. An enigma he found himself wanting to unravel.

"Maybe this time around you can," you said softly, letting him go with a smile as you entered your apartment, effectively opening the wound in his heart so wide there was no saving him.

Although he now knew something he didn’t know before.

He didn’t want to be saved.

[eph3merall]

dealer!chris x innocent!bff!reader hcs 🦌

dealer!chris . . . who always has a part of his mind thinking about you. what are you up to? classes? work? friends? hangouts? he'll text you and pretend to not care much, but deep down he just doesn't want to admit how much he worries over this girl who is just his friend.

innocent!bff!reader . . . loves and adores all things autumn. her clothes are fall staples that include lots of denim and earthy tones. so whenever she's hanging out with chris and sees something to add to her closet or keep as a trinket or decoration, she'll look up to chris with pretty lil' eyes and how could he deny her? sometimes he'll purposefully look away and shove her away from the store because she keeps burning a hole through his pocket.

dealer!chris . . . despises situations where innocent!bff!reader roped into his 'job'. there are shady people buying some strong shit from him, and he knows matt would also screw him over if innocent!bff!reader got harmed because of him. matt sees you as a best friend, someone he needs to protect because his brother is a little fucking stupid sometimes. dealer!chris always tries avoiding problems when it seems as if you're gonna get involved with any of his deals.

innocent!bff!reader . . . who's had a boyfriend or two before. she's just never had sex, and once she told chris he was laughing at her and giggling with his eyes all red. 'fuckin'... you're jokin', right kid?' and when she tells chris she's dated less than five people he's laughing harder. gosh, what an asshole.

dealer!chris . . . always carries a lighter with a printed cat photo on it that innocent!bff!reader glued/taped onto it. keeps a picture of her in his wallet as well—a polaroid of her awhile back in the winter, running into the horizon as snow fell around her frame. he could hear the giggles she made just by looking at the photo.

innocent!bff!reader . . . who has severe nosebleeds once every few months or so. it'll get so bad to the point she's crying because she thinks she's gonna die—with chris grumbling all annoyed with his hand fisting her hair so it doesnt get caked in blood. sometimes hes high and just stares at times while she yells at him to get her a hairtie or to grab ahold of most of her hair.

dealer!chris . . . who's, again, literally just an asshole to everyone. you're barely an exception. one second he'll be laughing with you and once he's with a buyer or some of his friends, he'll act like you're some dirt on his shoe. plus he's just plain ol' mean. wont take bullshit from anyone, not even his brothers. matt pisses him off more than nick does. but of course, they're his brothers. so he isnt.. that mean.

innocent!bff!reader . . . who grew up sheltered from everything in life. her parents are overprotective and she's their only child—only serving to make them more anxious when she's out. met chris through nick since the two were in a class together. something clicked and they've been hanging out ever since, usually in groups. chris and his friends are nott a good influence on her. but her mother doesn't have to know, does she?

dealer!chris . . . lovess cute coupley things. he just won't ever admit it to anyone he knows, not even his brothers if they ask or jab at him. secretly, he loves it when innocent!bff!reader hugs him tight or brushes her fingers across his skin. but he'll always stick to his go-to response—a scoff and he's pushing her away, muttering some shit like 'god, fuckin'.. annoying as hell always touchin' me.'

innocent!bff!reader . . . tries getting herself off with her fingers for the first time in awhilee since meeting chris because he just makes her feel so weird. all hot and bothered and it's gotten so overwhelming that humping her pillow alone in her dorm room isn't enough, so she's sliding her fingers inside her cunt slowly and mewling all softly in the privacy of her dorm room. she doesn't even realize that she secretly wants chris to see her like this.

dealer!chris . . . fucks with girls left and right. a new chick at each party that he sells some drugs to, and, if they're pretty enough.. he'll let them suck his dick or something. hey, he got to cum down some pretty brunette's throat and got a fat stack of cash? win-win. but when he met innocent!bff! reader... she went to house parties with him sometimes. which resulted in him not getting to fuck a girl's throat-which also resulted in dealer!chris fucking his own fist at night with the thought of you in his head.

—

©eph3merall 2024

[reocidal]

untitled — k. tsukishima

tsukishima has always cared for you, but will he ever be brave enough to show it?

cws; angst, fluff, happy ending, kissing, fem!reader, petnames, arranged marriage to lovers, mentions of infidelity, swearing, not proofread i think thats all

wc; 2055

you're eighteen, freshly graduated when your parents tell you about their plans; nineteen when you meet tsukishima kei. he is calm, confident, and self-assured, a complete opposite of you — you're wondering whether it's possible to survive a fall from a skyscraper. not that you'd ever actually do it, of course.

the wedding happens a week before you turn twenty, and that night, tsukishima has the grace to at least pretend to not notice as you cry yourself to sleep. when you've almost dozed off, you hear him stumble out of bed and walk away. you wonder if he has a girlfriend, another partner, someone he truly loves, someone you're keep him away from. the freezer opens and closes. the prospect of you coming between two people too jarring to think about, so you try not to, and you are asleep when he gets back to bed.

the next morning, you're mortified at your appearance in the mirror, eyes red and puffy — much worse than expected, too. no wonder tsukishima had looked at you like that. oh, shit. you're a tsukishima too, now. you turn around, preparing to go to the kitchen to look for an ice pack — you don't remember seeing one, but it still gives you something to do instead of hating yourself and him and your entire life. when you're maybe halfway there, you bump into your new husband. he hasn't been expecting to see you here either, freezing in place with a couple of spoons in one hand. wait, spoons?

he holds them out to you awkwardly, brows furrowing as you stare at him. "what? take them, my fingers are getting cold."

you finally find your voice. "what for?"

"your eyes?" he says it like it's obvious. "i put them in the freezer last night."

oh. oh.

"t-thank you," you stammer, snatching them out of his hands, rushing back to the bathroom. maybe things aren't that bad after all.

living with tsukishima means you have to learn quickly that words are not enough — words are never enough. the first few days, it's difficult for you. when you cook something hoping he'll like it, and all you get is a cursory good, a distracted not bad.

it hurts, really hurts at first. you don't even want to be here, and the lack of appreciation makes it so much worse. that is, until, he invites his best friend, tadashi yamaguchi, over for dinner.

the two of you get along much easier than you expect — he's a complete opposite of your husband. when tsukishima is away from the table, he asks about the recipes. he's heard great things about your cooking, he says. tsukki will not shut up.

"i thought he didn't like it," you say. yamaguchi laughs at that, and that day you find out that with tsukishima, you have to look deeper than just words. you have to notice the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his appreciative hums, and the way he takes second helping and sometimes even thirds.

and then one day he approaches you, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. he clears his throat, runs one hand through his already messy blonde hair, clears his throat again. he fixes his glasses as you stare up at him expectantly. "yes?"

"canyoumakesomemorestrawberryshortcake."

"what?"

"strawberry shortcake," he gets out through gritted teeth. oh, you realise. he's embarrassed. "can you make some mo—"

"of course!" you reply before he can finish, trying to spare him the humiliation. on second though, this does mean he likes what you make. life is suddenly a little bit nicer.

tsukishima (willingly) holds your hand for the first time on your first anniversary. you refer to him as kei, now, and he doesn't really mind either. he thinks it's pretty, the way you say it. but he'll never tell you that, of course. he buys you your favourite flowers, even though it's not supposed to be a special date, because you're only married because your parents made you.

you hold the bouquet with one hand. "kei, you didn't have to!"

"i wanted to," he shrugs. "you're not the worst person to do this with."

"oh," you sigh, and the smile on your face is real, so real, and so is the way his lips quirk up — a small movement, but it's there nonetheless. "you too, kei."

you turn to go put the flowers in a vase when he grabs your wrist, pulling you back gently. his hand slots perfectly into yours, and he gives it an experimental squeeze. you squeeze back, and his thumb brushes over the back of your hand. "i mean it, y/n."

"i know." it's hard to suppress the grin that's trying to take over your face as you say it. "me too."

handholding becomes normal after that, whether he's holding onto you in the midst of a crowd, or the two of you are at home and he's playing with your fingers lazily. sometimes kei's doing something on his phone — he uses it one-handed, even if it makes things more difficult or slows down his typing — and your hand is in his other one. your hands might lie in the space between the two of you, fingers tangled together, or maybe he's tracing shapes, letters, words onto your palm — whatever comes to mind. either way, you like it. you like him.

nowadays, he even kisses you(r cheek) goodbye before work, and if he's extra tired after, he finds himself melting into you. your presence itself comforts him, your existence a soothing hand over his brow. he hopes you don't mind where this is going.

spoiler alert: you don't.

you've just poured yourself a cup of coffee when your husband walks into the kitchen, rubbing at his bleary eyes. he looks like he's just gotten out of bed and come here. there's something different about him that you cannot quite place, so you ignore it, half-turning to face him. "morning."

"g'morning," kei responds. his morning voice is low, rough as he walks up to where you're situated between the counter and the kitchen island. his hand falls to your waist easily as he moves you out of his way to stand behind you. his chin rests on your shoulder as he stifles a yawn. "i want some too."

you hand him your cup and he hums gratefully after taking a sip. putting it back on the counter, he wraps his arms around your waist. his body curves over yours as he lets go of himself. the weight is comforting as it blankets you — maybe the two of you can stay like this forever. you relax into the back hug; he nudges your head with his. "can't find m'glasses."

oh. so that's what's missing.

"i'll help you find them," you suggest, not questioning his rather... clingy attitude today. it's been well over two years since the two of you got married, and while he has told you on multiple occasions that you can see whoever you want, your moral code is still not low enough to partake in what can basically be termed as infidelity. even if the marriage is arranged, and there are no feelings involved — that's a lie, you know by now that you've definitely fallen for your husband, and hard — you still don't want to do anything of that sort, which has lead to you becoming quite touch-starved over time. so when tsukishima started becoming more and more physically affectionate as of late, you didn't dare question it, savouring every moment instead. over time, it's gone from fleeting touches and hooking his pinkie around yours while he tries to look unbothered, to much more confident hugs and handholding. essentially, everything a couple can do together — except kissing.

that's not to say you don't want to kiss him; you really do. when you see him chewing on his bottom lip, lost in thought, you want to kiss him. when you see him lick his lips while playing volleyball at all the games that he's started inviting you to now, even from afar you want to kiss him. and when one of his old friends from high school texts him about something stupid and his lips turn up into a pout without him noticing, you definitely want to kiss him.

but you digress.

it takes a two-minute search to find them on the floor by the bed; the floor by your side of the bed no less. the covers are more messy than you remember, even though you're sure you fixed up your part of the bed. the blankets are messy, pillows squished. the only way it could possibly be this way is if someone had been rolling around and also hugging your pillows.

you and tsukki live alone. you don't have any pets. you didn't do anything, and tsukki definitely would not — would he?

"why're you even out of bed so early?" you ask him as he falls back onto the covers. "you don't have work today."

kei flushes — actually flushes, a pretty red hue spreading across his face as he thinks of an answer. "you... weren't there," he says carefully.

"i see." your reply is just as cautious as you test the waters; after all, this is the first time whatever the two of you have going on between you has emerged from where it was comfortingly held captive in words left unspoken. "well, i'm here now."

"good," he says, and there's the slightest hint of a smile playing about his lips as he pats the space beside him. "c'mere."

oh dear. you really are sleepy, aren't you? maybe you shouldn't have gotten up this early either.

this time, you're the one waking up alone in bed — fortunately, too, because extricating yourself from the ridiculous pile of limbs that the two of you become every night is one of the least favourite parts of your day.

you find him pacing around the living room, phone held up to his ear. "that's not fucking working, tadashi! she's my wife, i can't just tell her that!"

his eyes meet yours; you raise a brow. tsukishima looks like a deer caught in headlights, before he cuts the call and puts his phone down. "hi."

"hi," you respond. anxiety twists in your stomach, a dark creature from an inky pool that crawls out and takes all of you. "what can't you just tell me?"

"nothing." it comes out too fast, and he knows he's fucked up by saying it.

"o-oh." you take it brilliantly, in stride. "well, are you having an affair, or something?"

you try to play it off as a joke, but the fear and insecurity is pathetically apparent in your voice. "i don't mind if you are—"

"i'm not!"

"it's totally okay if you are! that was part of our agreement, right?"

kei groans. he's not sure whether he should be put off or attracted by the way you're hell-bent on lying your way through this. "i swear i'm not, y/n."

"then?"

he swallows harshly. oh well, now it never. "come sit?"

you comply quietly. if not an affair, then what? technically, it doesn't count as one, you have to admit. but still, what was all of that affection for, then? to soften the blow?

"i like you," he whispers. his hands twist around each other nervously, knuckles white. "i know this is weird because we're fucking married, but i do—"

"okay," you breathe. "okay, me too."

you've thought about kissing kei tsukishima way more than you should. and when his tongue slips out to wet his grinning lips and his hand brushes your hair away and splays out to hold your face in one fluid motion, you especially want to do that. so you do.

you like being in love with him. when the two of you are glued together, when he absentmindedly traces iloveyous onto your palm, when he draws hearts on your shoulders with his thumbs. when he becomes much more vocal about how much he loves you, exactly. now, you even get to hear him say it out loud.

"i love you," he says, kissing your pajama-clad shoulder. "my sunshine princess."

"fuck's that?" you ask him, laughing, but you like it all the same.

"you're that," he replies, and refuses to elaborate.

as it turns out, you like him being in love with you too.

been on that married couple shit lately thanks mom ig. my parents also used to call me somethinf along the lines of sunshine/little miss sunshine when i was a kid bc i was so happy. not so me now but ill take it:)

chest hurts when i inhale like stopppp.

anyways 2:30am so i'll sleep now. lot of care, take love.

also ive been stuck at 499 for hours now so what should i do for 500

tags !! @akaakeis + @smiithys (gen taglist open!!)

[10byten]

Old habits die hard

Jaehyun and you share a messy, complicated past — a whirlwind of rushed goodbyes and fiery reunions. By chance, you find yourselves face-to-face again, caught in a pull neither of you can escape. But is there still light in this story, or will it burn out under the weight of everything left unsaid? -

Words : 4k

WARNING : smoking cigarette, Smut.

You excuse yourself from your convo host for a sec, making a beeline for the drink table. Johnny’s apartment is packed—obviously, it’s his birthday, and no one’s missing that.

You’re about to hit up Jungwoo to suggest sneaking downstairs for a smoke—because, duh, Johnny’s place has been smoke-free ever since he got that “cool uncle” title. But as you’re weaving toward the door, it swings open.

And… he’s there. Jaehyun. It’s been months since you saw him—months of staying away like you both agreed. Everything—the noise, the people, the lights—fades when he walks in. You feel it all at once: the tightness in your throat, the knot in your stomach. It’s like the universe is laughing in your face, and tonight? Extra cruel.

You specifically checked before coming to this party—Jaehyun was supposed to be visiting his parents.

“What the hell is he doing here?” you hiss at Johnny, grabbing his arm.

“Ow—” Johnny follows your line of sight. “Oh, right. His parents canceled, so he skipped the trip. My bad, maybe I forgot to mention?”

“Forgot? Seriously, Johnny?” You pinch him hard.

“Anyway,” he says, brushing it off, “aren’t you seeing Lucas right now?”

You stammer. “Uh, yeah. I mean, no. He’s heading back to Hong Kong—long-distance? Not my thing.”

The last time you and Jaehyun broke it off, it felt… final. Like, no casual makeups this time, no easy resets. It was all or nothing—building a future together or walking away for good. And guess what? Option two won. But even though you knew you’d run into him again, some kind of heads-up would’ve been nice, y’know? A little mental prep.

You hug the wall, sliding toward the kitchen. Grabbing your glass, you spin around—and there he is, catching your eye from the hallway. How long has he been watching you? His gaze, those piercing eyes—it’s like they burn straight into your chest. You quickly look away, pretending you didn’t notice, but your heart’s racing. Seeing Jaehyun again stirs something deep, something warm, something dangerously familiar.

You spend the rest of the evening holed up in the kitchen, clinging to the safety of Ten, Yangyang, and Kun’s hilarious banter. For a while, it works—the knot in your stomach loosens, and you almost forget Jaehyun’s here.

But then you see him. Leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you. His lips curve into a knowing smile—because of course you’re making him laugh. You always do.

God, that smile. You missed it. For a second, you can’t help but mirror it, a tiny grin sneaking onto your face. You shrug like, What can I say? I’m naturally hilarious.

He hesitates, then starts toward you as the spot next to you opens up. Every step seems calculated, deliberate.

“You’re still the same clown, huh?”

“What can I say?” You flash a smirk. “Old habits die hard.”

You both start with small talk—classic avoidance of the giant emotional elephant in the room. You laugh at everything he says, a laugh that’s just a little too nervous. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, studying your face like it’s a map he’s trying to remember. Every curve, every line—he’s looking for signs of change since the last time he saw you.

You think to yourself: He hasn’t changed. Same calm, detached vibe, like he’s carrying the world on his shoulders but pretending it’s no big deal. But his eyes? Oh, they’re a whole other story. They give away what his words never will.

Meanwhile, he’s thinking about how different you seem. A little colder, maybe. But that spark in your eyes? It’s still there, and it could still destroy him if he’s not careful.

The silence that falls between you is loaded. Your eyes meet, and honestly? Words are unnecessary. Your history is in the room with you—your love, your heartbreak, all the messy, raw intensity of it. It floods the space, making it hard to breathe.

You remember the nights you spent talking until the sun came up, building this fragile, glowing little world for just the two of you. And the crushing disappointment when you hit that same wall over and over again—Jaehyun’s habit of running the second things got too real.

He remembers the fights where words were weapons, and the way he couldn’t stop himself from ruining everything good. He remembers you walking out for the last time, leaving him alone in an apartment that suddenly felt way too big.

He tilts his head, breaking the silence. “Wanna get out of here?”

You nod, and he leads the way, weaving through the crowded living room. He grabs your hand to guide you, and the feeling of his fingers laced with yours sends a shiver down your spine. Like your whole body remembers him in a way your mind’s trying to forget.

At the door, he picks up his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. His Ford Mustang II King Cobra is parked outside—brown, classic, and way too familiar.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you feel a wave of déjà vu so strong it nearly knocks the breath out of you. The music hums softly in the background as the car starts, and you stare out the window at the passing lights, wondering if following him was a mistake. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. A black lock falls over his eyes, his long lashes fluttering to shake it off. His face is flawless, he’s the kind of guy that’s hard to look at without wanting to taste him.

“So… you seeing anyone?” Jaehyun’s voice cuts through the silence.

You smirk, not buying his casual tone. “Is that a question, or are you fishing for confirmation?”

He clicks his tongue, letting out a low laugh. Leaning one arm against the open window, he runs his fingers through his hair in mock exasperation. The thought of you with someone else? It’s enough to make him sick. He can’t focus on the road; he’s too busy stealing glances at you. The wind gently ruffles his hair, a few more strands falling over his eyes, you can see the muscles in his neck tense up. Jeong, why the hell are you so hot? You dream of diving into the back of his neck and devouring him with kisses. But he's not yours anymore.

“Word on the street says you’re seeing other girls too,” you fire back, throwing in a little jab.

His laugh is sharp and sarcastic. “Oh, so you’re confirming then? - A couple of lame setups from Doyoung. Nothing worth mentioning.”

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. That godamn hands that have sent you to heaven so many times. “Can’t stop thinking ‘bout you and I.” His voice drops to a murmur, the words barely audible.

You pretend not to hear him, staring out the window, trying to avoid your desire. He knows the way to your place by heart.

When you arrive, he steps out of the car at the same time as you. You raise an eyebrow.

“Smoke?”

You nod. “Sure.”

Leaning against the hood of the car, Jaehyun lights your cigarette, his eyes never leaving yours. It’s like you can hear his thoughts, feel his emotions radiating off him. He looks away, gazing into the distance.

He’s tried to forget you, to fill the emptiness with other faces. But none of them shine like you. You’re etched into him, a scar that refuses to fade.

And you? You tried to move on, but the silence he left behind was louder than his presence ever was.

“I thought you quit,” you say, your tone teasing.

He chuckles, the cigarette dangling from his lips. “I did.”

You snort, gesturing to the smoke curling in the air. “Sure looks like it.” 

“Guess old habits die hard.”

You smirk. “Tragic loss for the Olympics. Michael Phelps can rest easy.”

“Hmm, truly devastating for the world of sports.”

He exhales, the smoke curling lazily in the air. “This was our thing, y’know? Sneaking off to smoke at every party, everytime we were together. It’s a bad habit, but it’s ours. Guess I’m scared to change that.”

You glance at him, your voice quieter. “Some things just stick with you, no matter how much you try to shake them.”

He leans in, his face close enough that you can feel his breath. “I like the things we share. Even the bad ones.”

Your heart skips a beat, and for a second, you forget. Forget that he’s not yours anymore. That you can’t just close the distance and kiss him like you used to.

You snap out of it, standing abruptly. “Thanks for the cigarette, Jeong. See you around.”

Shrugging off his jacket, you hold it out to him. He doesn’t take it right away, his gaze lingering on your hand before he finally brushes his fingers against yours, just enough to send sparks up your arm.

He smirks as he takes the jacket, and you return it with a soft smile before walking away.

Back in your apartment, your skin still tingles where he touched you. Jaehyun.

When you wake up the next morning, there’s a message waiting for you on your phone. Simple, almost cold: “Can we talk?”

You hesitate, your fingers trembling slightly over the screen. You know that replying means reopening a door you worked so hard to close. But you also know you can’t say no to him—you never could.

The two of you meet at your usual coffee shop. It’s been a while since you’ve been here. Everything looks the same, yet everything feels different.

Jaehyun is sitting there, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and blue Levi’s, paired with boots. The look is effortless, but on him, it’s like no one else could wear it better. The black of his hair contrasts so perfectly that he looks like he stepped out of an old James Dean movie. And all you can think about is how badly you want to slide your hands under that shirt.

He sees you and smiles, his eyes lighting up like he’s been waiting for this moment all night.

You know you look good—you’re wearing the black mini skirt you two bought together ages ago, and your signature crimson lipstick that drives him crazy. As you walk closer, his gaze rakes over you, devouring every detail. The flicker of excitement in your chest feels like a tiny victory.

You sit down, and the conversation starts politely, almost mechanically. Like you’re dancing an old, familiar routine. But the air between you is thick with everything unsaid—last night, the months before that—it’s too much. Too heavy for small talk.

Jaehyun finally breaks the silence, his voice quiet and unsteady, like it’s coming from somewhere deep and vulnerable.

“I always thought I’d eventually get over thinking about you. But here you are, and I’m still the same idiot who wants you more than anything. When you left, I really thought my world stopped turning. I built my life around you. It’s like you took a piece of me when you walked away, and I’ve been chasing it ever since, trying to find it in all the wrong places.”

You didn’t expect him to say this. To be this open about the pain he felt when you left—the pain he never knew how to put into words before.

You listen in silence, but the way your hands tighten around your coffee cup betrays your nerves.

Barely above a whisper, you respond, “And I thought you’d be the one I could remember without pain. But I can’t even breathe normally when you’re around. I can’t sit across from you for ten minutes without falling apart.”

The truth between you is undeniable now: you’ve always loved each other, but your love has always been poisoned by your fears and insecurities.

“I was scared,” Jaehyun admits. “Scared you’d leave for someone better. I’ve never felt like I was enough for you, like I could give you what you needed. You always seemed so sure of yourself, so put-together. And me? I was just… me. So I let you go. Cowardly, I know, but it felt easier than telling you how I felt. You told me that you love me but you never want to see me again..”

“I know,” you say softly. “And I know I’m not innocent in all this. I made you feel that way. I never trusted you, not fully. I was so sure you’d leave eventually, that you’d get scared of commitment. But in the end, I was the one who walked away. Because I felt so empty, Jae. Being with you, it started to hurt.”

Jaehyun’s voice drops lower, but there’s a determination in it now. “So what? We just let our insecurities keep running the show? Let them ruin us for good? Or do we forget all that and rebuild? I don’t want to pretend anyone else could ever be you. No one’s you.”

You look away, staring at the traffic outside the window.

It hits you—this is the exact spot where you broke up for the first time. Back in high school, when you were still kids fumbling through love and heartbreak. It feels like some kind of cruel deja vu, like the universe loves throwing you into the same cycle over and over.

And yet, a few months ago, you promised yourself something. That you’d protect yourself first, no matter what. Even if it meant walking away from love.

“Look, I know, trust me I understand, I deserve less, If I was you I wouldn't take me back. But Y/n…I don't wanna see you- I can’t see you with anyone but me. How am I supposed to accept it, I love me so much more when you’re around and I know that you do too. Us, together, is something else.”

“It just goes round and round every time. I’m done with this.” You stand to leave, the chair scraping against the floor with finality.

Before you can take another step, his hand catches your wrist.

“If you walk away again, I won’t stop you this time,” he murmurs, his voice low and trembling. “But if you stay... I promise, this time, I won’t let anything come between us. I’ll be the man you need. Someone you can trust, someone who’s by your side. Always.”

His words sound raw, almost desperate, and for a moment, you freeze.

You want to leave, but his eyes—those eyes—you’re powerless against them. The way he looks at you wraps you up, as if you’re already in his arms, as if he’s touching every part of you without even making contact.

And he’s different now. You can feel it in the way he speaks, in the way his vulnerability lays bare between you. Jaehyun looks like he’s finally grown, like he’s learned to open up in ways he couldn’t before. He’s not just asking for another chance—he’s begging to be the person you’ve always needed him to be.

So, just this once? Why not give him that chance? After everything you’ve shared, doesn’t he at least deserve that?

“Take me home,” you whisper.

His smile is immediate, radiant, and you can see the relief in his shining eyes. It feels so bittersweet—how deeply you love him, even after everything. Even after running, even after months apart, even after you tried to leave him behind. Your heart has never learned to be quiet about him, and it frustrates you to no end. He has this undeniable power over you, and you hate it almost as much as you love it.

As you step out of the coffee shop, Jaehyun pulls you to the wall outside, one arm wrapping tightly around your waist. He holds you there for a moment, looking into your eyes like he’s trying to say something his words can’t reach: This is it. This is the last time. This time, it’s forever.

And then he kisses you.

It’s deep, consuming, his velvet lips brushing against yours with an urgency that makes your knees weak. His mouth moves over yours like he’s trying to make up for all the lost time, for every second he’s gone without you. When his tongue meets yours, you let out a soft moan, your body melting into his as his hand presses against the small of your back.

No one else could ever be him. No one else could kiss you like this.

Because with Jaehyun, it’s not just a kiss—it’s everything. 

The air between you grows heavier, filled with passion and the raw intensity of everything you’ve been holding back.

“Let’s go home babe. Or I'll behave badly in public.” 

“You miss me this much ?”

“You really ask the question.” He narrows his eyes, studying you. Oh, he knows that look. You’re playing with him, and he’s more than ready to join the game.

“Why the mini skirt, then?” he asks, his voice low, teasing, as his lips curve into a smirk. “Just to torture me, huh?” He slides his hands down your hips and takes a firm grip on your butt. 

You let out a small gasp of surprise, your eyes widening for just a moment. Jaehyun’s smile grows—it’s that sound, the one he’s always loved. It tells him everything he needs to know. You haven’t gotten over him. He still has the same effect on you.

“Maybe..”

“Tell me, did you have sex with him?” You pretend not to know who he’s talking about, tilting your head slightly as you widen your eyes in mock innocence.

“Who, exactly?” you ask, your voice light and teasing, the perfect picture of feigned cluelessness.

“This Honk-Kong guy, don’t mess up with me right now.” he presses his hips against yours, you feel the bone in his jeans. 

“He never took what was yours, if that's what you're asking for”

He exhales in relief, his shoulders relaxing as his eyes light up with renewed energy. “And what’s mine?” he asks, his voice soft but laced with a quiet intensity. He needs to hear you say it, to let the words come from your lips.

You bite your lower lip, feeling your heart tighten. This guy loves you so much, you can feel it in every fiber of your being. It’s overwhelming, undeniable.

“Me.”

“So let's see, show me how much you belong to me.” He grabs your hand and pulls you along, urgency in his steps as he leads you to the car. Before you know it, you’re climbing into the backseat with him, your heart pounding in sync with his.

In one swift motion, he pulls you onto his lap, straddling him. His hands grip your waist as his lips crash against yours, this time with a wild, unrestrained intensity. The kiss is deeper, hungrier, as if he’s been holding back for far too long and can’t anymore.

“I can’t wait.” he undoes his belt and unzips his jeans.

“Someone could catch us.” You say this as you lift your skirt and take off your jacket. You burn too much for him, you can't reason with yourself.

He lifts you slightly to free his cock from his jeans. Moving your thong to the side, he aligns himself with your entrance and penetrates you in one smooth movement. You cry out as you feel the tip of it touch the bottom of your pussy. You grab his shoulders, Jaehyun is going to take the lead this time, that's for sure. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs. His movements are quick and dry at first, he moans at length, it's such a relief for him. “Finally home.”

Your fingers weave into his hair, wrapping a strand around them as you tighten your grip, pulling him even closer. In his arms, you feel weightless, like a doll being held with a mix of tenderness and raw intensity.

His warm breath brushes against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. And in that moment, as his touch grounds you and his presence surrounds you, it hits you—this is what home feels like. He’s your home.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. They’re dark, filled with lust and raw pleasure, a haze of emotion that makes your breath hitch. He looks almost dazed, like someone taking a long-awaited hit after years of restraint.

Unable to resist, you lean in and kiss him passionately, pouring everything into it. The intensity of your connection shifts something in him. His movements slow, becoming more deliberate, more intimate. It’s not just hunger anymore—it’s something deeper, something that lingers in the space between desire and devotion. You were fucking and suddenly you're making love. He intertwine his fingers with yours and caress your hips with his other hand. He can't take his eyes off you. 

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he murmurs, his voice steady and deep, carrying the weight of all the time you’ve spent apart.

“I’m here now,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him close until your forehead rests against his.

“Don’t ever leave again,” he mumbles, his voice breaking slightly. “No matter what we go through. Never again.”

You cup his face gently, your voice soft but resolute. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Jaehyun.”

His movements are regular, and you feel his cock rubbing your walls in the same rhythm. He lightly pinches your ass and you moan. He knows you love it. He gently caress your other hole to stimulate you. You can feel your orgasm rising. He doesn't let go of your neck, which he's working hard on. You'll probably have a bruise by tonight, or several. 

You pull on his hair to signal that your climax is coming. He lifts his head to see you moaning.

“Say my name.” he murmurs.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun, oh my god Jae yes, yes…” you shout his name until the end of your climax. He closes his eyes and enjoys the moment, his name sounding so good in your mouth.

“Yeah baby, ‘m right here.” He picks up the pace again, his movements becoming urgent and demanding, as if he’s making up for all the lost time.

“Tell me I’m the man of your life, say it,” he commands, his eyes dark and intense. He needs to know where he stands in your heart, in your life, what place he occupies in your eyes.

“You’re the man of my life, there’s only you,” you whisper, gently running your fingers through his hair, wanting him to feel every ounce of love you have for him. You know Jaehyun needs reassurance, to feel cherished and cared for. You’ll say everything he wants to hear.

“We’ll never be apart again,” he murmurs, his eyes now filled with sadness and a quiet desperation.

“No, never again—ah, Jae…” you moan softly, your breath hitching as his touch overwhelms you.

You feel his dick tense up inside you, you know he's close to orgasm. 

“I'm yours, I love you so much.” Jaehyun likes to feel loved and reassured it helps him reach his climax. “You're the man in my life Jae. No one can be you, no one can love me like you and no one can fuck me like you.”

He moans loudly, finally relaxing into you, he's always done it, so why change your habits. He remains in ecstasy for a moment. His forehead is moist. His breathing calms and so does yours, your head resting against his chest. 

"I meant it, you know," you murmur against him, your hand still intertwined with his.

"I know... and so do I. You're the woman of my life. I want everything with you. I want us to get married, I want kids, I want a dog, and the beautiful country house that comes with it."

You look at him, Jaehyun is so much more mature and confident now.

"Why don't we pick up where we left off a few months ago, let's move in together."

"Leave your place tonight, and come stay at mine."

"Are you serious?"

"Completely. I don’t want to wake up a single morning without you. Last night I was going crazy coming home without you. You can bring your stuff gradually, but I’m warning you, you’re not sleeping there unless I’m with you."

You smile and kiss him. "Okay, Mr. Possessive."

"You’re mine, remember? You’re the one who said it."

-

[dreamerimpossible]

His reaction when you say someone else's name during sex.

Warnings: 18+ content, unhealthy relationships, mentions of death, typical canon violence, threats, toxic behavior, manipulation.

Characters: Michael Myers, Chucky, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Patrick Bateman, Jason Voorhees, Leatherface, Art The Clown, Jason Dean, Alex DeLarge, Kurt Kunkle, Brahms.

Michael Myers

He stops abruptly and looks at you through his mask while tilting his head to the side. At this point, you were extremely scared. I mean, he's still a dangerous killer and all. You apologize profusely in a shaky voice, feeling the lump of despair forming in your throat. He, in a mood of indulgence, takes pity on you and spares your life. He pins you down, though while his thrusts are brutal enough to make you feel like you're going to break, he doesn't care; he's using all his strength on you. It's your punishment for your recklessness. His hand circles your neck, choking you so violently that you genuinely think for a second that he wants to hurt you. He lets go, though. By the time he finishes, you have a sharp pain in your private parts and your body in general and semen running down your thighs. Frankly, it could have been worse.

Chucky

He would stop. There would probably be an argument where he would say other kinds of things to hurt you. He just can't handle it; he has to be the one to please you. He asks you who the person is that you named; if you resist saying it, the argument will get worse, and he will accuse you of cheating on him. So you tell him so that your relationship doesn't get any worse. It's obvious that the person dies, because Chucky is proud and wouldn't like anyone else in your head. If you apologize, stroke his ego, and are constantly pushing each other's buttons to make the sex rougher and more violent. and behave for a while, he will forget, but sometimes he will moan names of other girls to annoy you, which turns the situation into a vicious cycle. You are constantly pushing each other's buttons to make the sex rougher and more violent. He drives you crazy because he moans names of people you detest. In his mind, you brought it on yourself.

Billy Loomis

He stops everything, makes a big fuss, and leaves. He asks you who that guy is and comes out in his ghostface suit that same day to take care of him. After that has calmed his mood a bit, he comes back to your place and menacingly approaches you and says something like, “I’m not forgiving you next time, honey.” As he runs his knife across your cheek, making it clear that he’s fighting with himself not to sink it. He’s in a bad mood for the rest of the night; the only way to ease it a bit is to climb on top of him and kiss his neck, all the while whispering lots of affirming words in his ear and apologizing for being so dumb and careless. Only then, if he believes your words, will he grab you by the waist tightly and push you roughly onto the bed. He uses you to take out his frustrations.

Stu Macher

Pretty offended. Hides his disappointment with a calm, joking facade. It's scary because he doesn't say anything about it, just laughs, and pretends to be offended, imitating childish behavior. He continues to have sex with you while telling you to scream his name and that he wants to hear you say that you're only thinking about him. However, even if you do it and tell him it was an accident, it's there, and it just doesn't go away from his mind until the person dies. He thinks about whether he should kill you too for making him insecure. His decision depends on your subsequent behaviors. If you're not interested in him or he sees strange behavior with other guys, his decision is made; he's not tolerating disloyalty directed towards him (quite hypocritical). But if he realizes it was just an accident, he'll always bug you about it to hear you validate him.

Patrick Bateman

This is a brutal mistake. Seriously, don't do it. Whether it's an accident or not, avoid it at all costs. He'll stop, pull your hair, and ask you who that person is. He gets violent in no time and will definitely end sex by looking at himself in the mirror and not taking you into account, regardless of your condition. He will then leave you there and get dressed, ignore your comments, and leave without saying anything to you. He will come back the next day and still not say anything to you. He gives you the silent treatment and is very hard to convince. I can see him ending it over something like this, as he wants genuine affection and interest bordering on obsession, and if you moan someone else's name, it means you are not seeing him as the only person in your life and your top priority. If he sees you aching for him for a considerable amount of time, he will come back to you. But I would take it with a grain of salt if I were you.

Jason Voorhees

Bad technique too. It's hard to motivate him to have sex, and if he sees you moaning someone else's name, he might not be able to continue. He'll just pull away and leave you alone. He takes it out on quite a few people along the way. He won't do anything to you, but it's pretty sad because he doesn't treat you the same way anymore. He sees sex in a negative light again, and he'll probably never do it again. The only way he'd want to do it is to just get him to give in to his impulses, but that would be hate sex, and he'd be taking it out on you for being weak and not controlling himself. If you get him down on you a high number of times and moan his name convincingly enough, he'll hate himself less and blame you a little less. He'll probably never forget it, but he finds it hard to resist you. Plus it turns him on too much to have the blood he splattered on his clothes on your skin. You'd be a guilty pleasure that he'd slowly come to terms with.

Leatherface

You better come up with your best excuses in record time, because he is not letting you go that easily. He does not know how to deal with anger, and he could do something he would regret against you. So, you try to explain to him what happened, trying not to stumble over his words and without getting nervous (it is a difficult challenge). He will cling to everything that is even remotely convincing that you say; even if it is incongruous, it does not matter; he will believe it. However, you are limiting interactions with everyone until he feels safe, and you will have to deal with his way of expressing his emotions, even if it is sometimes against you. He will forget over time if you make him feel good and behave properly. You make sure you never make a mistake like that.

Art the Clown

Uh… really? Do you have a death wish or something? Frankly, being with him is entirely a game between life and death. You never know when he will get bored and end whatever you have. Saying that person's name will mean that he will seek that person out and make them watch while Art has sex with you and subjects you to many violent practices that will only give you pleasure if he has already corrupted and trained you well enough. If not, it won't even be pleasurable for you. Your screams will be a constant mix of pain and pleasure. Your body will be visibly battered. The person at the end of the situation is very traumatized, especially by your positive reactions to everything they did to you. In the end, Art will obviously make you watch him kill him, and depending on your level of sanity, you will either enjoy it or feel distressed. I don't know; he doesn't care. He doesn't do anything to you beyond that because you are such a good pet…

Jason Dean

He would like to be one of those guys who makes fun of you and just goes on with his thing, but he quickly finds out that he isn't. Someone else's name hurts him deeply; you can see in his features his disappointed and hurt look. However, he quickly becomes manipulative and controlling. He makes you kill that guy by carefully following his plans, and if you don't, it means that you don't love him and that you just took advantage of him and that if you were a good girlfriend, you would do anything to make him feel safe. You probably do want to fall for his manipulations, because the relationship is clearly toxic. You go along with all his plans, and he is happy; he sees it as a sign of love and all that shit. When all that is done, he will fuck you good and fulfill all your whims so that in his mind there is only him and only him. In reality, he fulfills his mission.

Alex DeLarge

He changes his expression immediately; he looks at you with that dangerous look that his victims give them. He tells you to back off immediately if you want to get out of the situation unscathed. His dominant voice would have you under control, so your mouth automatically obeys, and you apologize several times while you try to explain to him that it was just an accident. He will play with you and tell you fatal scenarios that could happen to you if he decides to leave you and take away his protection. In reality, he is just playing with you; it is not that your little mishap hurt him that much; it is just that he needs you to understand that he is in charge and he will not tolerate you straying or betraying him. After that he will make you fulfill a fantasy, like having sex in a stranger's car while others drive by or something like that; he will also make you yell "Alex" many times to make it more embarrassing. He enjoys your nerves quite a bit, and he feels paid. However, that very night, he and his droogs are visiting the person you named. That's non-negotiable.

Kurt Kunkle

It cracks me up because I don't even know if anyone still loves this character, but anyway, he's added to my list of slashers. Well, he can tolerate recording you having sex; he can even feel comfortable seeing his followers grow thanks to seeing you naked, and he can act all feigned kindness to anyone who hits on you. But he won't tolerate you thinking about anyone else, much less blurting out someone else's name while you're with him. He's pretty crazy, so they'll have sex in public or something while he humiliates you in front of everyone for being an inconsiderate bitch. He laughs like a maniac, creating chaos and chaos. You literally couldn't even remember that day because of all the unusual things that happened. He doesn't apologize; at the end of the day, he doesn't even talk about it; he literally took out his frustrations by causing massive chaos. Well, that's what you get.

Brahms

He throws a tantrum and forces you to calm him down. He manipulates you and makes himself the victim. He will use this to have more freedoms with you and let you do whatever he wants, basically. No matter what you say to him, he won't want to understand. He just shamelessly enjoys the way you ride him afterwards and tries to get him to forgive you that way. In reality, he will never forgive you because he prefers to make you feel guilty all the time so he can keep getting things out of you. The only way out of this is for him to do something worse (which isn't hard) and you get mad at him and the roles change. But it's always like that. It's a vicious circle too. He silently wonders who that person is. Just give him attention and do everything he tells you for a while. He will think he won. However, you have to control his tantrum well; otherwise, he might get too out of control with his own strength.

[ma1dita]

partners in crime

luke castellan x fem!dionysus!reader [the trouble!verse]

MAIN SERIES MASTERPOST

summary: few things are certain in this life as a demigod, but one thing is for sure— you can’t fight fate when it pulls you and luke castellan together, over and over again. two young people who hate the gods are more like them than they think, for better or worse. annoyances to best friends to lovers

things to know: dionysus!reader's nickname is trouble & most of these can be read as standalones!

here's a playlist (spotify & apple music links now available!)

child of dionysus headcanons!

trouble!verse moodboard 1 & moodboard 2 & college!trouble by the lovely @24kmar

deleted scenes from a different universe (AUs)

play the extended cuts (blurbs from in-between)

character study: luke castellan & trouble

any works, updates, thoughts, musings, etc about this series will be tagged under #trouble!verse !

key: fluff - ☼ angst - ☽ smut - ☆ jo's favorites - ᥫ᭡

[rewind to before] pre-established relationship

trouble always finds me (trouble!reader origin story) 1.7k ☼

The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. (You're an annoyance, but not an enemy)

entropy 3.6k☼

The one where you both blur the lines between annoyance and admiration. (the promise of becoming partners in crime)

buddy system 4.2k ☼

The one where he comes with you to rescue your younger twin brothers, Pollux & Castor. (this is as close to a real quest that Mr. D will give you--might as well take someone you trust!)

somebody's angel 4.4k ☽

The one where you convince him he’s pretty, even with a scar. (songfic - Die Alone - Finneas)

feed the fire 1.2k ☼

The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. (Luke realizes this is more than playful banter)

bedtime stories 2.4k ☼

The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don’t mind at all. (the both of you have feelings you want to admit, but duty calls!)

crazy little thing 3.4k ☼

The one where he uses all his drachmas to make you smile on Valentine's Day. (the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite, sometimes)

anything you want 1.6k ☼

The one where you and him have your first kiss. (You've always loved teaching the story of Orpheus and Eurydice; except when your Orpheus runs away from you)

said he likes crazy 2.1k ☼ ☽

The one where only he can help you with a bad day, even if he's avoided you since your first kiss. (For being a son of Hermes, he has a way of calming your nerves)

[pause and remember us like this] established relationship

play pretend 5.1k ☼

The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren’t exactly together yet. (Drunk words are sober thoughts. Your dad just wishes Luke told you instead of him)

a wish your heart makes 1.4k ☼ ☽

The one where you share dreams, burn cookies, and it still reminds him of home. (The dryads will probably ban you from the kitchen after this)

star crossing 4k ☼

The one where both your dreams come to life for a night (Crossing the stars for love is easier said than done)

to see the chaos through 4k ☼☽

The one where he remembers he was never a good guy, just yours. (Luke makes the ultimate deal with the devil in order to save you)

not your goddess 8k ☽

The one where you both know the best of days eventually have to come to an end. (songfic - Goddess - Laufey)

don't blame the kids 7.6k ☼

The one where you both chaperone a trip to Mount Olympus. (the Olympians are bigger gossips than you thought they'd be)

trouble's coming for you 3.7k ☼

The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. (three times Percy is oblivious (and in the way) and the time he realizes you and Luke are in love)

now that we're older 3.5k ☼

The one where he asks if you can stay the night even if all of cabin 11 makes fun of him. (Luke is tired of the routine. He just needs his girl)

if you need to be mean (be mean to me) 1.5k☽

The one where he leaves before you wake up. (songfic - I Don't Smoke - Mitski )

[fast forward until we meet again] post-tlt

lovers, or partners in crime 2.1k ☽

The one where Annabeth and Percy think you’re guilty too. (the last day leading up to Luke's betrayal)

love like a blister: the five stages of loving losing luke 4.7k ☽

The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they’re still alive. (the five stages of grief after facing a loss)

to catch a thief 3.7k ☼ ☽

The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. (Your reunion with Luke isn't quite what you expected.)

solipsism 5.3k ☽

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. (the four times Luke uses Backbiter to visit you during college ft. the first time you trust a god to help you)

forever falling: luke castellan & his four great loves 4.3k ☼ ☽

The one where he falls from grace and still thinks of you. (the four great loves of Luke Castellan’s life and how it will end up killing him)

love me dry 4.5k ☼ ☽

The one where he meets you at his mother's house, though both of you didn't expect the other to be there. (a glimpse into May Castellan's idea of a perfect day)

when the curtains close 5.3k☽

The one where you lose two people in the Labyrinth that day. All strings are cut. (Annabeth and Pollux find out the biggest difference between you and Luke.)

asking for trouble 7.8k (NEWEST ADD) ☽

The one where Luke's final wish is to see you. (He's himself again, and all he wants is to find out if the trouble was worth it all)

as above, so below ☽ ☼

The one where you plead your case with the gods of Olympus. (The one thing the fates didn't expect was how much you'd both be like your fathers; in a way, you and Luke didn't see it coming either)

ask to be added to luke/general taglist 🥹