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boredandwiredkitty · 1 year ago

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In honor of kinktober I wanted to post some little drabbles I made. Featuring my favorite mech in some of my favorite kinks. So here ya go even though no one asked.

I apologize if it's written weird as this is my first tf smut.

TFP Wheeljack x reader

Reader is human, AFAB f!Reader

Warnings: Mild Breading kink, size kink, marking, 18+ ONLY! Minors DNI!

Living with wheeljack was everything you had ever hoped for. It had many perks that would take too long to list. But you soon noticed it also had came with some drawbacks.

Since you started to accept and embrace your feelings for the wild wrecker. Some things were hard to ignore. Like the growing ever present desire you also harbored for him. Though that was something you wanted to put a tight lid on. You were too embarrassed to let him know you had it down BAD for him. Your Relationship had started as good friends. Which slowly blossomed to something much more. And while you both shared an intimacy with eachother unlike with anyone else. You still haven't crossed that line.

There wasn't much privacy in his ship. So trying to seek release for your pent up feelings was rather impossible. You would feel mortified if he caught you doing that. So whenever the urge to jump him passes over you. You would just grit and bear it with a smile. Though this proved difficult when your dreams let you get a taste of what you sinfully craved.

So many times you've dreamt of him fucking you into his berth. Stretched tight over his large girthy spike while he hit all your sweet spots. You would arch your back while crying his name as you chased ectacy. Many times over.

What you didn't know was that your mech was also holding back for your sake. While you both were considered conjux endura. He wanted to wait till you were ready. You were much smaller than he was. So he could only worry for his little conjux. Even if he was a smaller mech compared to the rest of team prime. He towered over you. Not to mention he was quite well endowed. He knows what he has and knows how to use it. But he didn't want to pressure you or worse. He would get eaten alive by guilt if you were injured because of him. But he couldn't help himself for laying it on thick. Amping up his usual cheeky one liners and teasing flirty remarks.

What you also didn't know was he was aware of your nightly dream adventures. The way your thighs rubbed together and soft moans would escape past your lips while you slept. How you would wake up clinging to him. Then try to act discreet while going to go change your soaked underwear. He wasn't stupid and quickly figured out what was going on but never pressed. He wanted you to tell him when you were ready.

You noticed as he would gaze at you with warm optics. There was something much more intense behind them. There were a few times where while you were sitting in his lap flirting back and forth. You heard him grip the controls so tightly it would creak under the strain. You would turn to look at his servos quizzitively while he released the abused controls when he realized what he's done. He would roll his shoulder joints and try to play it off like it was nothing.

But today was different. You were having your usual playful banter when you made an exceptionally lewd remark. You both were out on a drive. Sun was reflecting off of dry desert sand. It's orangy hues flying past the window you occasionally looked out of while you talked to wheeljack. Idly listening to some music over his speakers.

A sexual innuendo filled song started to play and you let out a huff. Normally you wouldn't mind but as of late... "Please change it. I already dealing with enough sexual tension. I don't need another to make me beg for you to frag me into your berth." Your eyes went wide. It was too late to take back the words you unconsciously blurted out.

You were about to apologize and take it all back when wheeljack revved loudly in response. "How badly do ya want it?" There was an unmistakable edge in his voice.

You pressed your thighs together as your heart started to race. The huskiness of his voice heating your body. Shyly averting your gaze to your feet you murmured out, " more than I can take."

Whatever task you both were previously on was forgotten the moment you uttered those words. You weren't ready when you were thrown forward. His seatbelt preventing you from slamming face first into the dash. "What the hell?!" You barked out as he whipped around and took off in the opposite direction.

"Sorry babe. I can't take it. You'd be lucky if we made it back to the jackhammer before I have ya takin my spike." His voice growled through his cabin over his speakers. Your poor heart skipped a beat as heat pooled between your thighs. Oh... OH. It was happening. It was finally happening. Your heart wouldn't stop racing as you filled with nervous anticipation.

You watched as his speedometer climbed. He was just as eager as you were. You squirmed and practically bounced in his seat. Hardly containing the desire to start stripping right there in his cab for him. You could feel heat radiating from him. The growing warmth making you restless as he arrived back at the jackhammer in record time. Not wasting any time as you practically jumped out, Before he could even fully stop you had undid the seatbelt and was moving to open the door. Usually you waited for him to do it for you. But this time you couldn't wait any longer.

The moment he transformed he scooped you up. Crushing his mouth against yours in a firery passionate kiss. Him stumbling in blindly till he bumped into his berth. He was going to have you. And he was going to have you now.

Your skin heated while your heart drummed loudly in your chest. Soft plush lips melding perfectly together with his metal ones.

Chancing a taste your tongue slipped out to find his. His servo further tangling into your hair. Feverishly grasping you. Any space between your bodies was too much. He needed you just as badly as you ached for him.

Rolling your hips against his you tried to calm the ache between your thighs. Moaning into the kiss as a servo slipped lower to press into the soft flesh of your ass.

Breaking away from the kiss to catch your breath your eyes flicked up to look into his optics.

They burned brightly for you. Filled with repressed charged energy just begging to be released. He burned so hot for you. Every circuit begging to tear your clothes from your soft supple body and ravage you. Waiting to hear you cry his name in ectacy while he would fill you to the brim.

He needed this. He needed you. Just as bad as you needed him.

He helped you pull your shirt over your head and discard it. Thankful you didn't bother with a bra today. Watching your tits bounce earlier with the seatbelt wedged between the soft flesh while he drove was delightful torture.

The way your cute ass squirmed in his seat as you obviously battled your arousal was almost too much. He had just barely held himself together to not fuck you into the ground right then and there on the side of the road.

But as much as he was eager he wanted to savor this. To take his time and really enjoy this moment. To fully expose yourselves to eachother. He wanted to last. To watch every expression. To hear every gasp and moan. To feel every pulse of hot pleasure. To ingrain every small detail into his processor. He wanted to mark your skin. A deep carnal desire to protect you and show what he had claimed as his. Daring anyone who dared to touch you.

You. Were. His.

The scent of arousal filling the air as he helped you free yourself of your shorts in his lap. Luminescent optics taking in every naked detail as you were fully disrobed in his lap. The soft lighting of his ship illuminating your features. Your glistening eyes lidded and cheeks flushed. Lips parted in anticipation. The soft rise and fall of your chest. He wanted to touch it all. Hungry servos explored your body. Cupping your supple breasts to firmly squeezing your bare thighs. He could feel your slick arousal dripping onto his modesty plating.

A gentle servo shifted to explore the area. As it came into contact with your wet plush folds you arched your back with a gasp. Drinking in your reaction he explored further. He pressed his finger against your entrance. Your arousal coating his finger as he slowly pushed it inside. You couldn't hold back the string of moans at his pleasureable exploration. He was practically fully pressurized behind his panel as your velvety walls perfectly molded around his digit. His spike just begging to feel those same warm slick walls molding around it. To feel you throb and writhe around him.

"Tell me what ya want. And I'll give it to ya." His deep voice rumbled in your ear. It dropped in an octave lower than normal that sent tingles up and down your spine, while more heat pooled in your abdomin. Your hips twitched in his lap. Your voice came out breathy as you begged him to fuck you senseless. Him slowly fingering you had you begging for more. The sounds of him slowly teasing you with his fingers inside your wet heat was sinfully erotic. Watching you made him come undone. Charge starting to build in his circuits.

He gently lifted you up and plunged back into a brusing kiss while the panels shifted away to let himself fully pressurize. You protested as he removed his fingers and used your slick to coat his spike. Even while slightly mass displaced he was huge compared to you.

Hearing panels shifting you moved away to look down to see his throbbing spike. Entrapped by all the different seams and ridges you wanted to explore more of the appendage. The biolights along the shaft giving off an ethereal glow.

You kneeled between his thighs as you swiped some of the fluids dripping your own slickened thighs and wrapped two hands around the hot metal. Letting your hands move from tip to base as you explored every inch of him. You could hear the creak of strained metal when he gripped the berth tightly at your teasing explorations. Hot vents coming out in quicker bursts and cooling systems kicking on.

Watching entrapped as lubricant started to bead at the tip. You delicately brought your tongue out to taste the viscous fluid. The groan he let out was music to your ears and only encouraged you further to try to suck on as much as you could fit in your mouth. You chanced a glance up to watch his expression. His lips parted as he desperately tried to cool his heated systems down. His hips twitching slightly with every suck.

"Frag babe you're killing me here." He hissed out, gripping the berth tighter. Any more and he might overload right there. His hips twitched and backstruts arched when you gave a few more good sucks before releasing him with a pop. Watching as a string of saliva stretched from your bottom lip to his weeping tip.

With a primal growl he lifted you up and softly dropped you on the berth. Pulling your hips close to the edge of where he stood.

He wasn't going to wait any longer to have you. His berth creaked with the change of weight distribution as he rubbed his spike against your dripping velvety folds. Teasingly pressing the tip if his spike against your opening. Coating it in your slick as he watched you try to buck and grind your hips against him. Hearing your soft moans as you tried to seek relief.

"Come on. Be a good girl and tell me what ya really want." He purred, slowly dragging the length of his spike against your over sensitive clit with a wet squelch.

"That's not fair!" You protested with a loud breathy whine. "I already told you!"

A deep sultry chuckle rumbled from him ad he watched the desperation build in your eyes. "I wanna hear you say it again."

You bit your lips as your eyes watered. The tension you felt was almost painful. You were desperate to feel him inside. "Jackie please!" You pleaded, "fuck me till I can't stand."

With no further explanation needed he pressed his spike past your plush folds. The immediate feeling of fullness as he slowly sunk into you till you bottomed out had you arching your back with a cry.

He couldn't hold back a moan as he felt your walls perfectly mold around his spike. The light fluttering almost sending him over the edge. Almost his entire length was hilted inside you before it seemed like you couldn't take much more. But it was perfect for him. It was taking everything he had not to start pounding into you. But you needed to adjust. He watched you carefully with gritted dentae making sure you weren't hurt. Waiting till you were ready before fucking your brains out. As he made sure you were ok he watched as his spike made a bulge in your belly. Your body adjusting to take his large size made him throb at the erotic sight. He couldn't get over how perfect you were in that moment. Your smaller body making room just for him. He wanted to fuck you senseless. To prove to everyone you were claimed. He pulled out halfway to thrust back into you. Plunging himself as deep as he could. The usual idle sounds of the jackhammer was being drowned out by your moans and the wet sounds of metal against skin.

Bent over your smaller form his lips met yours in a ravenous kiss while he set a brutal pace. You saw stars as he pounded into you. Your hands clawing at the berth, moving to the plating of his arms, then to his chassis. Desperately trying to find something to grip onto you as he made a mess of your drenched pussy.

One of his servos gripped your hips tightly. While the other tightly tangled in the hair at the base of your scalp. You were sure you would have little bruises where his fingers pressed into your tender flesh. But you couldn't be bothered. You wanted him to mark you. To leave the memory of your love on your skin. He released your swollen lips to nip at the junction between your neck and shoulder. Peppering the sensitive area with kisses and love bites while his hips snapped up against yours. "Ya like that don't ya." He murmured in your ear as he adjusted you. Spreading your legs wider while rolling his hips into yours making his spike grind against all the right places. You could only let out a low needy whine in response. Mind too hazy to form a coherent sentence at the blind pleasure that coursed through every nerve.

He trailed his glossia apologetically over the fresh marks that he made. Watching you intensely as building charge ran over his super heated frame. He was so close, and by the way your head was tossed back. Mouth open as cries and moans tumbled past your lips he could tell you were also at your limit. That fire in your veins building as you neared your climax. Every thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Are you ready babe? I want you to take every last bit of the load I'm about to fill you with." His voice rumbled through you and shot straight to your core. His thrusts getting more sloppy and uncoordinated.

"Ahn Jackie i- i-.." you cried out as your orgasm crashed over you. Your body shaking and eyes watering at the intensity that raced through your whole body. Your walls clamping around him and drawing him even further inside. "Primus babe-!" He let out a strangled groan. His hips feverishly snapping into yours as his spike pulsed and throbbed. Pumping hot thick ropes of transfluid into your pulsing channel.

He stayed hilted, giving a few shallow thrusts as you milked his throbbing spike of all that it could give. Your belly even rounder as you took the full amount of his overload.

He held you close. Pulling you on top while still wrapped around his spike. Murmuring how well you took him and his load as he rubbed your back. A thick knot at the base of his spike keeping all the fluids locked inside of you.

The overwhelming fullness coupled with the intensity of your orgasm had you spent. Sleepily you rested against him as he kept you nestled in his embrace. Looking up into his shining optics that overflowed with different warm emotions.

"Ya did great babe. You were amazing." He spoke gently as he brushed some of your hair out of your eyes.

You smiled and gave a small giddy laugh before you sighed content. "Not as amazing as you."

He gave you a soft smile as you started to drift off asleep while resting against his chassis. This could definitely be your new normal.

#tfp wheeljack x reader #wheeljack #valveplug #tfp wheeljack #maccadam #tfp #transformers prime #kinktober

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asheurbanipal · 1 month ago

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Where were they going without ever knowing the way? Ch. 2

on A03

<<Previous

Summary:

No luggage. No gas in the truck. No memories. Waking up with amnesia in a shack in the desert, our heroes find themselves drifting down the highway with no specific direction in mind. The only thing driving them? We know each other, and know each other well. But how? And why? And what is this feeling that lives in the pit of my stomach when I look at you?

Deadpool/Wolverine

Explicit

Words: ~10k

Chapter 2/2 in series

Content: memory loss, amnesia, trauma, amputation, canon-typical violence, bathtub sex, homophobic slurs

Chapter 2

"We haven't seen you in more than a week," said the man Logan had learned was named Scott. They had some kind of beef. None of them were talking about it, but everyone was clearly aware. The tension was there.

The giant silver dude, Colossus, had pulled their jeep around until it backed up to the SUV, creating areas for everyone to sit. Another woman with white hair had arrived --literally flying in-- that raised a warmer sense of familiarity in his chest. She hadn't given her name, yet, though. She seemed extra pissed at him for whatever bullshit it was they had pulled.

"Okay, so what was going on the last time you saw us?" Wade asked. This group --the X-men-- had been concerned but prickly with Logan. A sort of familial irritation. For Wade that was amped up to frustrated exasperation.

"There was an interstellar dragon situation in Moapa Valley," Scott sighed. Logan felt Wade tense in excitement. He shot a hand out and pressed it around the top of Wade's shoulder into the bottom of his throat a little. He caught the message to maybe shut the fuck up for a second.

"Wade begged to come with," Scott continued. "I told him, 'no.' He said if I let him come, he could show us some ammunition caches out in the desert he knew about. Something from an older merc job that they never cleaned up."

"Oh, fuck I'm a goddamn genius." Wade clapped rapidly in delight.

"Yeah, unfortunately," Scott agreed. "So I let you come. It was your idea to go to Vegas."

"Hm, that does sound like me," Wade decided. "Oh! I know what Vegas is! That's a good sign, right?"

"It ended up being a terrible idea, so..." Scott turned a small circle with his arms crossed.

"To be fair, Scott," said Hank McCoy. "I only came on this particular mission to go to Vegas myself. We were going that direction, anyway." Hank --Beast-- had taken a minute to adjust to. Big. Blue. Furry. But somehow this particular brand of weird was acceptable and familiar. He turned to Logan. "I wanted to touch base with a colleague at a research facility near Lake Mead." The new information immediately sorted itself into a lower priority drawer in Logan's brain.

"Fine," Scott agreed reluctantly. "But you two basically disappeared the instant we got to Vegas. Three days later, you've stolen one of the SUVs off the jet and left Warhead a cryptic message about 'a memory wipe guy.'" He nodded to the girl in yellow, the one that had spoken to them first.

"I told him you'd come home eventually," Warhead said, "be he insisted we try to at least pretend to look for you."

"Because you've both been acting fucking weird lately, so I wasn't sure what bullshit you'd get up to." Scott kicked a rock in the dirt. "Ever since-"

"Don't tell them, Scott."

"Storm?"

The woman with the white hair --Storm, he now guessed-- moved from her perch on a nearby rock to sidle up to where Logan was sitting on the back of the SUV bumper.

"Let them relearn it themselves," she hissed. "They want to solve their petty squabbles by manipulating their minds, let them earn their memories back."

"I did something to you didn't I?" Logan asked, cowed under her steely gaze.

"More what you didn't do. And when you remember, you're going to regret it."

#####

"I'm not getting in that fucking plane. We'll drive back. The tracker is on, isn't it? You won't lose us this time."

"Logan…"

"We'll meet up in Vegas."

Wade watched from the back of the SUV as Logan argued with the guy wearing the visor. Scott. Scooottt. Name sounded funny in his head and on his tongue. The instant he had suggested everyone get back on the jet, Logan had freaked out.

Baby boy doesn't like to fly. Put that away in the vault and lock it up.

Knowing they had a very sexy domestic relationship had changed the way he looked at Logan. That bloom of warmth he had been trying to make sense of was welcome now. He could bathe in it.

Logan stormed up to the side of the SUV, wrenching it open to hop in the driver's seat.

"Wade. Finish up whatever and get up here. We're going."

"Yes, sir, Logan, sir." Wade pulled the SUV hatch down and scrambled through the center opening, unfolding in the front seat. There was a brief cold war with the X-Jeep through the rearview before the other vehicle headed off into the sand.

"Dicks," Logan said to the reflection of their tail lights. He pressed the keyless ignition and began the process of moving the SUV back to the highway.

"Sounds like they're your best friends." Wade offered his hand across the console of the SUV. Logan took it absently.

Oh, muscle memory. Delightful.

"And considering you're apparently my partner, I'm getting a stark sense of the company I keep." He squeezed Wade's hand. The sensation rolled up him so nicely he could ignore the half an insult underneath.

Not like I'm NOT an asshole, from what I can tell. No reason not to accept it.

"Do you think we're a happy couple?" Wade asked, pushing the conversation in a direction he preferred.

"According to the pictures…" Logan rumbled a thought across his mouth. "Yes. I think we are. I feel like we are. It feels good."

"What would have happened if visor-boy and the mutant crew hadn't shown up?"

"We'd go to the address on our licenses. I had already been doing the math on the drive to New York."

"No, I meant when we were making out. If they hadn't interrupted." Wade flipped their hands over a few times.

"I would have fucked you senseless. I was not ready to slow down. It was like a…fugue state."

Oh those asssshoollleeesss.

"I'm glad we got stopped, though." Logan removed his hand to shift the GPS then settled it back. "I would have felt weird about it afterward. Because we're not totally ourselves."

"I wouldn't have," Wade replied. Logan kept his eyes on the road and didn't speak, but there was a tilt to his head that suggested he was curious to hear the rest of that. It was little realizations like this where he started to see the imprint of their relationship. The fact that he knew how to read Logan's body language.

"We were both consenting, " Wade continued. "You're hot as hell. And if you fuck like you fight, you are a champion of dicking down. If you deigned to lower yourself to my level, I'd one night stand you in a heartbeat, no questions asked. With the added knowledge that we're already together, I don't really care if I can't remember anything. I'd suck your soul out of your dick even if I had a lobotomy."

The silence that followed made Wade more and more nervous, Logan's hand tightening around his. When it relaxed, he felt himself breathe again.

"What do you mean lower myself?" Logan glanced sideways under the shadow of his eyelashes.

Holy fuck do I actually have to explain this to him? He can't be this stupid.

"Look, I've got a supple ass and a sick rack. This is not up for debate. But this suit's hiding a lot of sins, baby girl. Underneath all this red sexy, is a…mess, basically. No one thought to give me the full scoop on what the fuck is wrong with me, but whatever it was, it turned me into a giant ballsack."

"Wade, I think you're extremely attractive." They had hit a stretch of straight road, and Logan took the risk to chance some hard looks at Wade.

"I'm sure you got over your initial gag response, at some point, and now you love me because of my inside beauty, but like…come on."

"There's no way I had put up with this from you for any length of time."

"What 'this?'"

"This self-deprecation thing."

"And there's no way I was totally cool with getting my arm chopped off on the daily, so clearly-"

"So clearly it's something we worked on at some point." Logan squeezed his hand one more time before setting it on the wheel to deal with a rough patch of road.

Oh. I hadn't considered that.

"What if we just suck?" Wade countered. "And not in the fun way. We're just terrible people who are terrible together?"

I don't want to believe that. That doesn't feel right at all. It makes me sad.

"I don't believe that," Logan said.

motherfucker's telepathic

"I think we're just a little broken, " Logan said. "And we're fixing each other. Slowly. Or at least taping each other back together." His fists went tighter around the wheel.

"How are you so sure?" Wade asked.

"I'm not. But the only solid memory I've gotten back is that I love you. So that must be the most important one. I can work from there."

No wonder I'm in love with this man.

#####

Logan found the cellphones, fully charged, in a secret compartment in the back of the SUV while they were stopped at a travel plaza on the west side of Phoenix, Arizona. Scott had been kind enough to at least inform him that the SUV did, indeed, need to get refueled whenever possible. The solar battery would only run them so far even at the full charge it had built up parked out under the sun. With full nightfall coming on fast, they weren't going to be able to recharge for a while.

They had both gone in to take a piss, and now Wade was taking forever for whatever reason. They had already changed into civilian clothes, so it wasn't a suit issue. It didn't matter. It gave him time to go through their phones by himself. Whatever he had told Wade, a part of him was nervous, still.

He held the phones in his hand, deciding which to go through, first. Both had unlocked on his face. The pink glitter case with the tiny rainbow charm and an illustrated cat giving the middle finger on the lockscreen was probably Wade's. He sure fucking hoped it was, at least. It felt wrong to go through Wade's stuff without permission, so he started digging through the phone with the black and gray case, first.

It was less than useful.

His lock screen was their dog in a little red suit like Wade's. The wallpaper was a picture of him and his maybe-daughter eating cotton candy. Someone else had taken the picture. Maybe Wade?

The rest of the phone was starkly practical. A few basic functional apps, New York Times puzzles, and solitaire. The calendar said that "Puppins" was due for their flea and heartworm meds, so that was a clue on the dog, at least

Scott said they had been acting weird "since-." Since what? He flicked back through the calendar to look for anything that seemed like a big deal. Regular briefings with the X-Men, reminders to take out the trash, lawn care service…

"Dinner?" Logan said to himself as his feet dangled off the back bumper of the SUV. Two months back was an entry in his calendar that didn't look like he made it. It was the phrase "TAKE ME TO DINNER" in all caps with emoji hearts next to it. "Maybe I didn't take him when I was supposed to. Then we fought? Is that what we've been being 'weird since'?"

"You found our phones!?" Wade shouted across the parking lot, drawing everyone's attention as he jogged back to the SUV. He had changed out his red suit for a loose jersey with an X on it, cargo khaki shorts, knee-high socks and sandals. He looked objectively ridiculous, but it matched his overall vibe so perfectly, Logan couldn't imagine him in anything else. He had acquired a baseball cap with a cardinal on it inside the travel stop.

He hopped up next to Logan in the SUV, pulling out a couple of Ramune soda bottles. He popped the marble at the top then took a swig. Wade just looked down at his forlornly.

"I don't know how to open this," he said to himself quietly. Logan took it from him and went through the process a second time.

"Then why did you get them?"

"I don't know. I just saw them, was super surprised they had them at a travel stop, then my hand was already reaching for them. I think…I think you like them?"

"Yeah, they're not bad," Logan said, handing the drink back. Wade took a sip, and his face said he wasn't sure how he felt. "Anyway, here. Phone. I want you to look at a specific date."

"Absolutely," but the first place Wade went digging was the photo gallery. "Oh I have a whole folder in here marked 'Logan XXX.'"

"Okay, but did I pose for those? Or are they candid? Because I get the feeling-"

"Do you have any sexy pictures of me?" Wade shifted the focus with a snap.

"I didn't look."

"Can you?" Wade looked across at him, batting his lashless lids.

"I-okay...sure." He didn't expect there to actually be any. If the conversation from earlier was anything to go by, that little detail wasn't going to make Wade feel good about himself. Delaying it was going to make it worse, though.

He flicked through the gallery. It wasn't organized, but there wasn't much there to keep track of. Landscapes. Pretty sunsets and cloud formations. A few series of Puppins sleeping in weird positions. His maybe-daughter at various distances. When the first picture of Wade appeared, he gave a little chin nudge into Logan's shoulder.

It was a video. Wade playing with the dog in the yard, running barefoot through the grass in green and brown camo patterned shorts and a bright pink t-shirt with Dolly Parton on it. His smile was wide, shooting back and forth in the grass before he tossed a tennis ball. The camera followed Puppins chasing the ball. Wade chattered something in the background of the video that the camera didn't pick up, then it ended.

"Okay, super boring and domestic. Give me something hot and spicy." Wade reached over to scroll through the gallery quicker. "Oh this one's…oh…maybe not."

Wade in a plain colored t-shirt and sweats, feet up on a coffee table, mid-talking to whoever was behind the camera. It was the exact t-shirt Logan was wearing at that very moment. A picture of Wade in his clothes?

Wade was already moving through the gallery, again, stopping when he saw his face every ten pictures or so.

Wade holding the dog. Wade making stupid faces with his maybe-daughter. Wade and another young Japanese woman making stupid faces at Warhead. Wade with reading glasses focusing extremely hard on a Sudoku book. A video of Wade in his red suit, finessing his swords in a quick circle and giggling. A follow-up video of Wade showing this trick to some preteen boys. A second-follow up video of him showing those same kids how to run some kind of parkour drill in a large room.

"None of these are sexy," Wade declared.

"I think we just have vastly different versions of sexy," Logan assured, the warmth that rose in his chest spreading out into his stomach.

"Whatever." Wade scrunched his nose then went back to his phone. "What date did you want me to look at?" Logan brought his phone over.

"Here, two weeks ago. Looks like you made a calendar entry."

Wade hummed and opened his calendar. It was a mess. Reminders and notes and alarms for everything short of breathing. The date in question only had one block on it.

"It says one year anniversary." Wade waved his phone at Logan gently, then his face changed as he realized what he said. "One year. I can't decide if that's a good amount of time or none at all. Even if I can't remember shit, I feel like I've known you forever."

Logan pressed through his own thoughts. Wade felt new in his brain. Big but new. Life changing but recent. Maybe that was why they had built a life together so quickly.

"So, weird question," Logan said, "but I'm wondering if something happened at that dinner. Did we go?"

"Oh! That should be easy. I'll look at pictures from the date. Since I actually take some." He waggled his eyebrows. "Looks like I might have put it in a folder, even. Look at me. All organized and shit."

The pictures Wade presented started pretty normal. Them getting ready in their shared bedroom. A few selfies of them in nice clothes. Nothing fancy. Logan was in a sports coat and dark jeans with a cowboy hat. Wade looked smart in khakis, a maroon button up, and cream cardigan, but he didn't look totally comfortable in the outfit. The next few shots were in front of an Italian restaurant of some sort. Only confirmed because Wade took artsy photos of his pasta. But then something had gone wrong. Another selfie on the street on the way somewhere else showed paired looks of concern.

The next photo was a couple hours later.

A quick shot of Wade with a thumbs up in front of a pile of bodies with Logan in the background, claws out, digging into one last person. Both their outfits were torn and bloody, the splatters implying it wasn't their own. These unknown adversaries were armed to the teeth and dressed in black, so he could only assume they deserved whatever came to them.

The next picture was Logan throwing back a beer in their house, still a little torn and bloody, an air of broodiness hovering over him. They must have resolved things quickly, because the next photos were very obviously from Wade riding on top of him. Yet somehow not as explicit as they could have been.

"Oh, I am an artist, " Wade decided.

"So clearly something happened that night," Logan said. "But I think whatever it was started whatever…this…is." He gestured between them. "Scott said we'd been acting weird since some big event. An anniversary seems like the kind of thing that might set off a chain of weirdness."

"Especially if something went really wrong," Wade finished. "Yeah, I hear you, peanut." He looked up and glanced around. "We should stay here in Phoenix tonight."

"Kinda wanted to drive through."

"To get to Vegas where we got ourselves in trouble the first time. And I know we're both tired. And there's literally a Super 8, like, right over there somewhere according to the cashier." He pointed down the road.

The problem was Logan couldn't actually disagree with him. He was, indeed, exhausted. And driving this tired was probably dangerous.

"Alright. Fuck. We'll find somewhere to stay. But not a fuckin' Super 8. I found a black card in my wallet, and I intend to use it if I'm going to have to suffer."

"Yay!"

#####

"There's still time to switch to two queens instead of a king. They probably wouldn't ask any questions."

"What?" Wade asked, then the rest of his brain processed the question as he gazed around the room. "No. No no no no. This is fine." He dropped his bag at the end of the bed.

"I'm sorry for not confirming with you," Logan said. "Hotel clerk asked what kind of room, and I went into auto-pilot. We must get hotel rooms a lot."

Probably not like this one. Doesn't feel familiar.

The best they could find within spitting distance was a Marriott, but after a night on a cave floor it might as well be a ten-star accommodation. He did another once over of the room, searching under the tables and chairs for…something…It was like a tick. An impulse to check the room for possible security failures. He turned and panicked. Logan was taking off his shirt.

fuck fuck fuck

Wait….why are you freaking out? You saw him shirtless just a few hours ago.

Calm the fuck down.

"I assume you'll want a shower. Mind if I go first?"

"No, go ahead."

"Okay." Logan paused with his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans. "Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?" Wade tried to lean nonchalantly on the table then jumped back when it tipped underneath him.

"You're always a little bit distracted, but you seem on edge. Did you remember something?"

"Ah…no…um…I think we hid our cellphones. That maybe we're the ones who put them in that secret compartment." It had started needling at him immediately. Why hide their phones? Why tuck them away like that?

"Who were we hiding them from?"

"Ourselves?"

"Huh…" Logan paced a few steps as he ruminated on the idea. "So we leave our wallets in our bags, phones in the car, then fuck off into the desert?"

"It's a theory," Wade said.

I don't have any better ones, at the moment.

"Does that make sense?" Logan sat on the bed to think. "Not that I think you're wrong; I'm just trying to find the logic."

"I kind of ruled out being kidnapped pretty early what with the whole…personal armory…thing. Don't think a kidnapper would have left us behind with that."

"Nope, probably not…wait…" He paused to roll a thought over. "We also erased our own memories."

"Shit, you're right, " Wade said. "That's what Glasses said. We 'found the memory wipe guy.' We were looking for this."

"Why the absolute fuck would we do this to ourselves?" Logan stood from the bed again, crossing his arms over his chest. "It had to be for a reason. A really good one." His pacing got a little faster.

He's sexy when he's thinking.

He's sexy when he's breathing, though, so whatever.

Wade watched Logan's form, tracking his every muscle movement. That welling feeling of wanting to bite and gnaw on him kept rising up in his chest and setting his throat on fire. It was so fucking distracting, but it was also raw . Pure in its utter debauchery. He had to believe it was a real thing.

"You did this." Logan's voice slammed hard against him.

"Excuse me?"

"I can tell I've had my memory wiped before. I can feel it. Stacked amnesia. I wouldn't have volunteered to do this again. It must have been your idea."

Wade moved forward across the room, stood a foot from Logan, chest out and shoulders wide. Trying to be mad but only finding hurt.

"Or maybe since you've been through amnesia before, you thought it was worth it for whatever this…project…is. Or maybe it was my idea, but there's no way I forced you to do it. So you agreed."

"Maybe you strong-armed me. Blackmailed me. Withheld something until I said yes. Like sex."

What the fuck , dude?

"Do any of those pictures look like a man who would withhold sex? Especially from you ? What the fuck is your problem? You know what no…"

fuckin'

Even if it was my idea so what? So fucking what. We're in this together now.

"I'm going to go search the SUV for any more clues," Wade declared. "And you're going to sit and think about what you just said to me.

Fucking ass.

He started toward the door.

"Fucking ass," he gave as a parting shot.

The problem was that he couldn't necessarily say that Logan was wrong. Erasing their memories was probably his idea. In their one day together, he could figure out that much. He didn't know if he was a genius or an idiot or that beautiful combination of the two, but he was clearly the schemer.

Logan was absolutely not the type to be strong-armed into anything he didn't want to do, though. Either he had comfortably agreed with the plan, or Wade had been sufficiently persuasive. So for him to be this accusatory was downright insulting.

And that's something I'm allowed to be mad about, damn it.

He crawled into the back of the SUV, and started aimlessly throwing panels back, folding and unfolding the seats, looking for any evidence of a hidden pocket. He did uncover a few, but there was little of any importance inside. Two more backpacks of clothes. Another small duffle with extra ammo for a gun he hadn't found in his armory bag. The shotgun that went with the ammo he just found.

The organization of this is all over the place.

Why do I kind of understand it, though?

I'm absolutely the one who packed this SUV and filled all its hideyholes.

After an hour of fruitless labor, he dropped breathlessly into the passenger seat, door still open. He unlatched the glovebox. Just the user manual. He closed it again. The latch didn't take and it popped back open again.

Fuck you.

He tried to close it again, but the manual got in the way this time.

FUCK YOU.

He pulled out the book and reared back with the intention of throwing it as hard as possible. Then a piece of paper fell out. Lined notebook paper, folded in half with writing on the outside. "WOLVERINE, READ ME. FROM YOU (WOLVERINE)"

oh hoh hoh hoh

I'm absolutely reading this bitch.

Dropping the manual into the driver's seat, he unfolded it carefully, laying it across his lap. Under the dome light, the indents of the blue pen filled the paper with beveled shadows, the other side of the page textured under his fingers.

Logan, Wade won't look in the glove box, but I know at some point you'll get bored and check the manual for features. You agreed to have your memory erased, but you told him you'd be leaving behind a note. You just didn't tell him where in case he hid it again.

Oh fuck.

He was super adamant about neither of us knowing anything for this project. You'll understand why, eventually. Right now, you're freaked out. I know. We've been through this amnesia thing before. It's real shit every time. Don't worry this time IT WILL COME BACK when the serum wears off.

Here Logan had underlined a few times, almost bleeding into the next line.

I put in some backups for when this goes to shit. The tracker on the SUV will start pinging again, at some point, so the X-Men will find you eventually. So look for a guy with a visor, a giant metal dude, or an attractive black woman with white hair. You can trust them. YOU CAN TRUST WADE. I can't tell you more, but you would kill and die for this man. More importantly, he would do the same for you. Just get back to Las Vegas and don't freak out. -Logan �� PS. Wade, if you do happen to find this, shut the fuck up.

But then he'd put a little smiley face at the end of the line. Wade let the note sit in his lap for a minute. Had he left a letter like this for himself? He was certain he would have found it, by now. Had Logan found this note already? Was he using that to form his own opinions? Wade had to know.

Wade practically scrambled through the main door and up the elevator. He almost dropped the keycard but hustled the door open.

"Logie, I have found the juciest clue!"

……

Logan?

"Kitty cat?" Wade peered around the room, testing the bathroom door. Logan was gone.

#####

Logan's hands were firmly in his pockets, held tight around a thumb drive. It hadn't been too late for an Uber when he left the hotel, but, depending on how long this took, he might not have the same luck getting all the way across town. He also had the car drop him off about two blocks away from the internet cafe. It wasn't a specific thought that led to that decision. More like something that lived deeper. That had been ingrained in him over a long period of time until it was second nature.

Escaping into the night without telling anyone also felt natural. He hadn't questioned the decision even once.

He had found the thumb drive in the interior of one of Wade's bags. It had taken seconds, and was mostly an accident. When Wade stormed out, Logan got mad. Mad without a specific focus. Just…mad and sad and annoyed. He picked up all the bags and moved them against the wall, pushing some of his frustration into tossing them against the wall. It was pure accident that one of the bags of clothes made a jingling sound when it banged against the chair leg. One run of his hand along the inside of the bag, and he found the bulge. A quick swipe of his claw along the inner lining, and the pony keychain with the thumb drive attached revealed itself.

If he had to make a guess, Wade had left some kind of trail of clues. Breadcrumbs. The drive would hold some kind of viable information to bring this all together. He wanted to see it himself, first, though, on his own. Wanted to see what Wade thought was important and convinced himself it was how to make up for saying something so awful.

The hotel didn't have a business center. A quick Google showed him that "LAN Cafes" were a thing, though, and there was a 24/7 one in Tempe. Logan paid for one of the open computer stations and fumbled through the technology enough to access the drive.

He found a folder labeled "Our Life-DONT LOOK UNLESS FUCKED" and a solo text document. He clicked on that one first.

Hey Toad-face-

Ah, this was a note from Wade to Wade. The self-deprecation was immediate and strong. The computer had clearly corrected Wade's writing but hadn't caught everything.

You have super cancer. You can heal pretty much anything. You can theoretically not die but I haven't fully tested it and NOW IS NOT THE TIME. That's all done The super hot fucker your with is super important and he wont let you die for to long. Promise. Right now you have a bet going so I'm not going to spoil anything. But honey badger said that he would only do this thing if I set a contingency or two. This is that. I used the computer in the business suite at our hotel to make this. Only look at it if something goes to shit and your memory is super fucked. -XOXO Wade (=˃ᆺ˂=)

Logan closed out of the document, then drifted the cursor over to the folder. He tapped his finger on the mouse, deciding whether he would open it.

"Fuck it."

The folder was full of pictures, and he found himself just skimming, scrubbing through the folder window. He had seen the photos on the phone already. Seen himself through Wade's eyes via camera. He slowed down when he saw another text document. It was full of wall to wall text, no paragraphs. It was hard to read, but he muddled through the rambling, wandering language.

Wade hadn't fully considered that the man who would be reading this wouldn't have all his memories, so there were jumps in context. Gaps in the lore. They had been through something big together, though. Wade kept referencing The Void. Kept talking about when they "exploded." Referenced multiple universes. Sometimes he slipped into a time clearly before Logan was around. About a woman named Vanessa he seemed to love desperately at one point. Time travel. Despite his insistence in the other document, he might have actually died at one point. At the end was a list of instructions on the best way to reattach a severed limb.

"Buried the info a bit, but we figured it out." He went back to the pictures, and scrolled down to the end. Some of these were newer, taken in Vegas. The images flashed through the preview pane quickly.

He stopped on the last one. It was a selfie of them in sports coats and jeans standing in the middle of a balloon arc, holding a piece of paper. An official looking document with their names on it, sanctioned by the State of Nevada.

A marriage license.

Wade found him in the bar. Drinking seemed the best option after what he found, and he wasn't ready to go back to the hotel, yet. He needed to process all his emotions in an environment that felt familiar. He didn't actually know what he liked, though, so he was up to drink number three, landing on a Blue Moon, for now.

He had no idea how long it would take him to get drunk or if he even could, but he was willing to start the relearning process.

"Hey," Wade said quietly, sidling up to him at the counter. He set a tablet down in front of them. It was blinking with dots.

"Is that…tracking us?" Logan scrubbed around on the screen, getting a feel for the environment around them.

"Yeah, I found it in the SUV. Not sure where the receivers are hidden, though. Maybe shoes?" Wade zoomed out, and another dot appeared way to south of them. "And I think that's another one. Maybe one we left behind somewhere?"

Logan dragged the tablet over and started looking at the streets and nearby landmarks.

"The AA token that was in my wallet. It was a tracking chip. I threw it in the dirt. Not ruining my sobriety after all." He took a swig in celebration.

"Weird choice," Wade decided.

"Maybe we couldn't find something better at the last minute and wanted to make sure we could find our wallets. Whatever it is we're doing, I'm not totally sure we thought all the details out. Feels like we kind of half-assed it."

"So you don't think this was my idea, anymore?" Wade tested.

"Nope. Still do." Out of the corner of his eye, Wade's head dipped in melancholy. Logan pulled him in around the waist. "But I'm very sorry for the way I said it. It was unnecessarily mean. I was just…being an asshole. I realized that you were right, and I must have agreed to do it. And if I agreed to do it, it must have been for a good reason." He tucked his face into the halo of Wade's hoodie and spared him a kiss on the cheek.

They were good and goddamn married after all, right? Right…?

"This ain't one of the gay bars, boys." The voice crackled from somewhere behind them.

"Mike, shut the fuck up." A woman's voice hissed at the first as they turned around.

Mike was a decent looking guy in his late twenties. Probably went to the gym a couple times a week. Little bit of stubble. Douchebag haircut. T-shirt from something local and jeans. He had matching wedding rings with the woman next to him who was clutching to his arm in concern. The woman across from him was the one yelling at him. She was paired with a smaller man who looked like he wanted to melt into the floor.

"Just talking to my husband, bub," Logan said, then started turning back.

"Husband?" Wade whispered. Logan gave a little headshake that he would explain later.

"Okay, well maybe you'd be more comfortable doing that somewhere else." Mike was relentless, it would seem.

"Oh my god, in the year of our Lord Patti Lupone: 2025 is this actual real life homophobia?" Wade cracked his knuckles.

"Wade, calm down. This isn't a barfight kind of establishment." He squeezed Wade's hand for half a moment, working from bone-deep muscle memory.

"A barfight?" Mike stood up, tottering off his stool. "You fairies want to make this a barfight?"

"MIKE WHAT THE FUCK?" The woman tried to drop down around the table and get to him. Her partner sort of flailed in uncertainty.

"Mike, honey," his wife tried to reach out to him, but he shook her off.

"Nah, if these fucking fags wanna go, let's go--"

Wade threw the first and only punch, getting in half a second before Logan could. Mike went down hard, his body making a series of thumps as he hit the floor. He wasn't out, but sitting on the sticky concrete, dazed. Wade was already leaning back against the countertop.

"Honey, your claws." He tapped the blades that had zipped out from Logan's hands.

"Right." He pulled them back in. He turned to the bartender, a young woman who currently had her hand hovering over a hidden button that would call the police. "Close my tab. We're leaving." He grabbed Wade around the wrist, pulling him out of the room.

"Give me the keys," Logan barked and Wade obliged. The way he had parked the SUV, the passenger side faced away from the bar and toward a wall.

He followed Wade around to that side and pressed their bodies together against the car. Logan slammed his lips against Wade's, searching his mouth with his tongue, unsure what he was looking for. His hands crawled around Wade's back and he found his rough skin under his shirt.

The fire he hadn't realized had been building in his chest started to die out into embers. He had just needed to touch Wade. To feel him. To be anchored to the one familiar thing left. He pulled away.

"Oh that's mean. Don't do that. Come back." Wade clutched at him, trying to pull him back. Logan moved in a little closer as a compromise.

"Your skin looks the way it does because of 'super cancer,' apparently." Logan said.

"Who told you this?"

"You did." Logan had printed the shorter text file from the thumb drive and pulled it out of his back pocket. Wade scanned over it.

"Fuck. Okay. You did the same." Wade pulled a piece of paper from one of his side cargo pockets. Logan immediately recognized his own chicken-stratch writing. "Looks like we made a bet of some sort. Wonder what the wager was?"

"Found something else with the note." Logan looked away, thinking for a moment, deciding if this was the time and place. "It's a picture of us at a chapel with a marriage license. I think we might be married."

Wade's body froze underneath him.

"No…no no no."

"Do you not want to be married to me?" Logan asked, trying to push the strange edge of hurt out of his voice.

"No, I do. I do? I do. That just…scared me. I think…hm…I wasn't ready to hear it…I…I don't know. Just this feeling…" He paused. Then he leaned forward and pecked Logan quickly on the lips, fingers touching Logan's jaw. "Let's go back to the hotel and sleep." He opened the door and climbed inside stiffly. On the other side of the door, Logan stared vaguely through the window, then moved around to the driver's side.

#####

Wade woke up pre-dawn with Logan wrapped around him, face pressed into his back. That wasn't how they went to sleep.

Married married married married.

The idea rumbled in the back of his head. It didn't feel right. Everything else had felt right. This didn't.

"If you're finally awake, let's get going," Logan murmured into his shoulder.

"How long have you been up?" Wade asked.

"A while."

"And you just…laid there? Like this?" Wade patted Logan's arm then turned underneath it to face him.

"Yeah. It…felt nice." Logan squeezed him around the waist a little.

"It feels like things are starting to come back. Little stuff. Mostly emotions."

"Yeah. I had a dream about a mini-van, then woke up with a hard-on. I don't know what that means, but it feels like a memory."

"That's a fuck of a memory."

I kinda like it. That's…that's sexy.

I want to fuck this man SO HARD.

Why am I so freaked out about marriage if this is how I feel?

married married married.

Logan squeezed his ass.

"Let's get going."

"You're being a lot more affectionate with me, now." Wade kept watching Logan as he, himself, crawled out of bed.

"Am I? I'm not really thinking about it. Maybe it's those memories coming back?"

"Is it because you think we're married?" Wade asked, keeping a little bit of distance.

"You don't think we actually are?"

"Did you see signatures on the license? And we have to file it, right?"

An out. That's what I need. An out. A place to wiggle through this weird feeling.

"That is a good point that I didn't consider." Logan paused as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Is this something you're ready to talk about, yet?"

no no no no no.

"No?" Wade tested. Logan nodded then continued pulling his shirt down.

Why is this starting to feel so…normal? Why is that so scary?

Wade leaned his head against the window watching huge swatches of desert and scrubland pass.

bored bored bored bored

Every time he tried to reach into his brain for something to think about, he felt like he was working through sludge. He flicked on the radio. Country. Gospel. A few preachers screaming about whatever passed for God these days.

"Oooh, classic rock." Wade let his hands drift back into his lap. Logan turned the volume down slightly.

"I think the age on my license is a fib." He tapped the panel of the radio. "Because I remember seeing Led Zeppelin live. They played this. But I'm one-hundred percent an adult in my memory. Passing a joint with someone…" Logan stared out through the window, eyes narrowing. "1972. Who would I have been hanging out with in 1972?"

"I'm imagining the world's worst blunt rotation, right now, not gonna lie."

Man, he's old. OLD old. I felt like I knew that because I'm not freaked out by being a graverobber.

Maybe I'm a gerontophile.

I know the word gerontophile, apparently. Don't think I could spell it, though.

G-e-r….a?

That's not right.

A small chapel slunk by them in the distance.

The memory this triggered slushed through his brain like a waterfall over boulders. Sharp and tumultuous and never ending.

"We fought over getting married. Or being married. Not to each other, just in general. I was engaged at some point, and it went tits up. You apparently can't keep a relationship together at all without someone dying or becoming a super-villain."

"That hurts. Feels like the truth, though, so I guess I can't be mad."

"Right right right. So we decided that maybe we just weren't the marrying type, right now, but we…" Wade fell off. The memory broke here. The pieces of information fell away too far, just the emotions remaining. "Something happened there. We…resolved the marriage idea…but that led to a fight. Or a…a discussion? Raised voices. I think we were drunk."

"Can we get drunk?"

"Maybe high? Oh god, I don't know want to know what kind of drug actually gets us fucked up. Okay let me think."

"....after what we've been through."

"You really don't think it would have happened without…"

"I mean, infinite universes and whatever but…"

"...that spark, though…"

"...Not denying that. Just practical…catalyst…growing through…"

"You make it sound like trauma bonding."

"Maybe it was, at first, but that's fine, right? At this point?"

"Yeah but…"

The voices layered on top of each other. He couldn't tell who was who. He pressed his hands to his ears, trying to hear the voices again, but they slipped away.

"We got caught in some kind of gang war on our anniversary," Logan said suddenly. "And we had a conversation about what we thought our lives would look like if we weren't fighting all the time. We thought we'd be bored. And we were…talking to Storm about it while doing drills in the danger room. And she called us emotional masochists, and I said something back and oh…that…didn't go well. I remember that…I don't…remember the rest."

Then it got weird. I remember. Holy shit.

All the questions we had no idea how to answer.

If we weren't superheros, would we have anything in common?

Did we only work so well together because we could both regenerate?

We were going to live for so so so so so long? What did the rest of our lives look like?

Wade pressed his palms to his ears again, trying to pull up the conversation in his head. Trying to relive it. It was gone, though. All of it. The echo of the information remained, but the memory itself just slipped back into the ether.

"We need to get to Vegas. This started there." Wade tapped his knuckles on the window. "This isn't fun anymore.

#####

Vegas lost a lot of its shine pulling into the main drag in the middle of the afternoon.

"Any of this looking familiar, babe?" Logan asked. The term of endearment sort of slipped out. Muscle memory.

"There." Wade pointed through the window. "We were in that casino."

"Good enough for me."

Weekday at 2 pm was apparently optimal parking, and they were walking into the front of the casino within ten minutes.

"Oh fuck, not you again." A security guard was the first to approach them, hand hovering near his gun.

"No one likes to see us," Wade mused.

"Considering everything we've remembered, so far, I'm less and less surprised." Logan held up his hands to the guard who still hadn't decided if he was going to shoot, yet.

"We're just trying to find somebody," Logan said. "Someone we talked to while we were here last."

"You know how many people come in and out of here?" The guard said.

"But you remember us," Wade pointed out.

"Fair," admitted the guard.

"You guys were talking to Dr. Tom." This voice was a young woman in a waitstaff uniform with an empty drink tray tucked under her arm.

"And where do we find Dr. Tom?" Logan sighed. They were so close to the end of this. This stupid stupid wild goose chase.

Dr. Tom, apparently, was a plastic surgeon, and worked out of an office not too far off the strip. A little light threat to his secretary got them back in Dr. Tom's office.

"You can calm the fuck down," Dr. Tom said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. None of them sat, and he gave up trying. "All I did was overhear you two talking about how it would be nice if you could forget for a while. I happened to point you to a friend of mine who happens to offer that service. People like to leave things in Vegas, sometimes."

"So you'll point us to this friend." Logan stepped forward.

"Fucking yes. Just ask politely I'm not a super-villain, you weirdos. Jesus." Dr. Tom stepped back toward the wall. "But if you're going to go in there snapping out claws, I'm less-inclined to hand over the address. She's a good woman. She's trying to cure Alzheimer's and shit. That's how she figured out her compound. She uses the money she makes for research."

"Oh I hate when the antagonist is actually a good guy," Wade complained.

"Okay," Logan agreed. "We just want to talk to her."

This time they had to wait a few hours for her to get off work. They pulled up to a neatly aligned house out in the suburbs and the woman who greeted them, Dr. Charlotte Stone, invited them freely into her garage.

"Gentlemen! I'm so happy to see you again. Is it going well?"

"No," Wade said.

"Surviving," Logan added.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that." Charlotte rerolled her hair into a bun and lowered the garage door behind them. "Did you put together letters and leave them in easy to find places?

They hovered weirdly in the center of her garage. Two walls were lab equipment, the third refrigerated storage. A computer station was tucked into the corner nearest the door into the house.

"We did," Logan confirmed. "But I think we did it wrong. We didn't put in our notes why we did this memory…thing."

"You were trying to settle a bet, I believe, but let me see my notes." She pulled a binder down from a set of half cabinets. "Here we go. Let me pull up your video."

"Wait what? Video?" Wade moved forward, trying to peek over the top of the binder. She handed it over easily. "A lot of shorthand, so I don't know if you can read it."

Wade dropped the binder on the counter.

"I can barely read, to start. I don't know why I bothered."

Charlotte had moved to the computer, though, shifting focus.

"Here you boys, go." She stepped back from the screen, and rotated it to them to see better.

The video versions of themselves sat in their colored combat suits, bickering over who was going to explain.

"It was my idea, I'll do it," said Video Wade.

"Feels weird getting that confirmed," said real life Wade.

"I am convinced that we are soulmates. So in any universe, we would eventually meet and fall in love." Video Wade said.

"No you actually don't," video Logan corrected. "You're just trying to be contrarian." Video Logan turned flush to the camera again. "We've been having this much bigger conversation the past couple of months about the future of our relationship, which we'll --you'll remember again at some point. And I happened to say that I don't think that our relationship would look like it currently does without having gone through the things we went through. I didn't even say we wouldn't be together. Just…it'd be different."

"But you said it while we were in a wedding chapel," Video Wade said. "Feel like that changes the tone."

The screen versions of them bickered some more.

"From this side of the screen, this argument looks really stupid," Wade said.

"We look really upset, though," Logan noted.

"You kind of were," Charlotte confirmed with a grim chuckle. "People only come to me when they think things are insurmountably dire and looking for a new perspective."

The video had started talking to them again, Wade staring down the camera.

"We decided the only way to know for sure was to start from scratch. Wipe it all out and see what happens." Video Wade tapped the table they were sitting out with a sense of finality. There was a little more chatting, but the video seemed to have delivered all the important information.

"So how did this work?" Logan asked. "We have so many gaps."

"It's a series of liquid capsule pills depending on how much you want to get rid of and for how long. I gave you the first one to make sure you didn't have an immediate adverse reaction, then sent you off with the rest of the doses and instructions. Told you to do it in a safe place under the supervision of some friends. It's supposed to be a slow, gentle process to give you the option to stop at any time if it gets too weird. Guess you might not have…followed directions."

"Yeah, sounds like us," Wade sighed.

"Okay. What's the plan to reverse it?" Logan shifted on his feet, nervous.

"Oh, it should wear off soon. Probably by tomorrow morning."

"Thank God, okay. Okay." Logan clapped his hands, rubbing them together. "Then that's it. It's over. All that stress and mystery."

"Yeah." Wade shifted on his own feet.

"Well did it work?" Charlotte asked.

"What do you mean?" Logan responded.

"Did you figure out the thing you were looking for? This whole…soul mate thing?"

Logan rubbed his hand along the back of his neck.

"We uh…we woke up in a shack in the middle of Arizona."

Charlotte made a face at that but let him continue.

"And uh." Logan looked for the words for half a moment. "And I'm pretty certain I, uh…I woke up already in love with him."

"Oh, I know I did," Wade agreed.

"I told you that might happen. I can wipe experiential life stuff, but the really strong emotional triggers very frequently linger."

"Cool, so we didn't learn anything." Wade shuffled his feet on the raw garage floor. Charlotte shrugged at them.

"I find that when the memories come back, you figure out whatever you were meant to. Even if it doesn't seem like it, at first."

#####

"Not that I'm complaining about room service snowcrab, why are we holing up in a hotel with the strip literally right there?" Wade picked a bit of shell out of his teeth, a chip of it sneaking into the leg meat when he cracked it open.

Logan had found a place to get cigars and was finishing one on the balcony. Evening was bringing more people through, making everything a little louder. A little busier. Logan stamped out the end of his cigar on the railing and came back inside, closing the glass door shut. Everything dropped to a dull thrum again, just the sound of 30 Day Fiance reruns playing in the background on the TV.

"Charlotte said she couldn't explain all our actions with her pills, so the probably don't work the same for us." Logan wandered restlessly through the room, stopping in the doorway of the ensuite bathroom. "So we're staying put. At least until I can get a hold of Scott and the others."

"Where the fuck did they go? They were supposed to meet us here."

"Fucking dragon came back or something. I don't know." Logan leaned back against the doorframe even harder.

He looked so tired .

Fuck he looks how I feel, so I must be a goddamn mess in comparison.

Wade swayed up from his hotel lounger and moved across the room. He wrapped his arms around Logan's waist and pressed his face into Logan's chest. Logan returned the affection with his arms gently resting around Wade's hips.

"Holy fuck, I didn't realize how big this bathtub was when we walked in." Wade pulled free and wandered over to it, sitting on the edge. "Fucking Jacuzzi jets. Holy shit."

Oh, I'm getting in this bitch, right now.

He immediately started moving his hands over the knobs and looking in the cabinets for something to put in the water.

"Holy fuck they have bathbombs."

holy fuck glitter

All the rest of his thoughts were just about getting the shrinkwrap open and getting into the water. Soaking in it. Soothing his nerve endings.

Some clothes hit the floor out of the corner of his eye, and he flicked over his shoulder. Logan had shucked off his shirt and was now working on his belt.

uhhhhhhh?!?

fuck fuck

Now he was thinking about other things than taking a bath.

"What?" Logan said when he caught Wade staring. "It's big enough for two. I thought that was the point."

"No you just went from 'don't fucking touch me' to making out against a car to cuddling to bathing together really really fast. Getting a little whiplash."

"Sorry." Logan flicked his hands. "I don't know. Things are just starting to feel normal again, so I'm just…I don't know. If you don't-"

"Oh no. Now that you've started, you better take those fucking pants off." The crown-shaped bath bomb burst in swirls of pink glitter and shimmer. Wade dropped his eyes as Logan got in the water, something too overwhelming about seeing him naked all at once right now.

His dick has been in my mouth.

My dick has been in his mouth.

We've been inside each other in so many different ways.

calm the fuck down

His body made the motions on auto-pilot, stripping off his clothes and sliding into the water. Then through the water to sidle into the space between Logan's thighs. The instant their naked bodies pressed against each other, a year of touch memory flooded his body.

hands touching, knuckles brushing

blades in my body, me begging for it

pressing inside me, thrusting hard, over and over

his soft, pulsing insides

teeth on flesh and flesh on teeth

"Fuck," Wade whispered, parting his knees around Logan's hips, wrapping his arms around Logan's shoulders so he didn't slide back into the water.

I'm so hard. Oh god. I've never been this hard in my life.

Wade didn't even ask before slipping his hand down between them and taking both their cocks in his hand. Logan wasn't quite so hard to start, but that changed immediately.

"Wade," Logan cooed into his ear. "This wasn't necessarily the idea when I got in here."

"You don't get to be sexually sanctimonious on me. I can remember some things now. I talk a big game, but you're actually ten times hornier than me." He grabbed Logan's chin in his hand. "And we get the chance to have a first time again. How cool is that?"

Logan rolled his face into Wade's neck.

"I'm not saying 'no', I'm saying lean back."

Logan hinged forward, moving Wade into position below him, straddling Wade's lap. His mouth covered his, nipping and gnawing at Wade's lips, tongue flicking over Wade's gums and teeth.

inside me

inside him

hard against hard, soft against soft, hard against soft

Logan lifted a little, hinging off the bottom of the tub at his knees. His hand came around Wade's cock and he pressed the tip to his entrance.

"Oh baby girl don't go in raw," Wade gasped.

"I'll trust the healing factor," Logan growled back, then eased down slowly on Wade's length until he settled at the base. "Okay, that actually hurts a lot more than I expected, you're right." He pressed his forehead to Wade's. "Ah. Okay. Okay. Fuck." He rolled his hips in a small circle, running up and down a half pulse on Wade's cock. "That's better. Okay. Yeah. Ah. That's good."

Logan kissed him again, this time quick and chaste, of all fucking things.

"How does it feel, Wade?" Logan hissed. "Do I feel good inside?"

"Oh, I think I might die and eject everything from my body if you talk like that again." Wade clenched around Logan's hips and waist, nails digging into his skin and the muscle and fat and tissue underneath. Then Logan properly started moving, shifting up and down on his strong thighs and calves.

I'm gonna get my memories back just to die from a cardiac arrest.

"Why did you change your mind? About…about doing this while our memories are shot? About…everything…" Wade had to concentrate on the words, but he needed to say them. He needed to hear it out loud.

Logan whined and panted as he spoke, throat tight over the words, voice sparking at the top every time he dropped down.

"You said you would fold to a one night stand with me, no question. I imagined the same thing. Meeting you in a bar. You sitting down…hah…next to me. Buying me another round of whatever I was having. You'd probably annoy the shit out of me, at first, but the fact is after a little while I'd probably start thinking you're kind of funny. Kind of…nhg…kind of cute. And if you flirted with me and asked me to go home with you, I would have probably done it. We would have fucked, and it would have been hot. So why hold back, at this point?"

"So you agree we're soul mates? "

"I agree that we're two horny idiots who can do this to each other without getting hurt." Along the top of the water, he clicked out his blades, jabbed them into Wade's ribs, then pulled back. Wade squealed.

fuck shit fuck fuck.

It is so fucked up how good that feels.

"So given certain variables, I see us drifting together for some real kinky sex, at minimum. I don't know how the other stuff works, just yet." He gripped Wade around the chin and pulled his face up to kiss him again. "Any other concerns? Because I'd like to keep going without having to think so hard."

"No, I'm…I'm good…"

Wade's hips started bucking up into Logan, trying to sink even deeper into him as Logan came down. The water sloshed out of the tub, swirling around their conjoined bodies and swishing into the in between spaces in a constant rhythm. He grasped for Logan's cock and started hurried, desperate strokes.

"Slow down, baby. I wanna come together." Logan buried his face into the side of Wade's head.

This feels…feels….feels…

…different…

soft and hard, hard and soft

They didn't normally do it like this. He could feel the shape of that. That weird combination of familiarity and novelty. His muscle memory wasn't kicking in, so he was falling back on intuition and guesswork and being an adult with, presumably, at least an ounce of sexual experience.

He spread his free around the outside of Logan's ass, willing him to sink lower, to bury Wade deeper inside. Logan sensed the desire and somehow got his body to drop even farther, to open even more for Wade.

The orgasm almost snuck up on him, the heat and weight of the water distracting all his other never endings. He started stroking Logan again, taking to a speed he somehow knew would bring him there. Logan arched forward, hands gripping the edge of the tub on either side of Wade's head. His hips moved from a pulse to a grind. Wade moved faster.

Wade came hard inside, pulling from the tops of his aching feet and toes and clenching his teeth.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Logan let out a guttural howl. Then there was a sharp metal sound that clanked against porcelain. The sidewall of the tub collapsed against Wade's shoulders.

"Fuck." The plug was to his left, and he slammed the switch open to drain the tub. He sat up, still inside, bringing Logan along with a hand around his back. Logan's claws were still out. Wade touched them.

"Peanut. The claws."

"Right, yeah." Logan, however, was staring at the backside of the tub. "I didn't totally break it. It's still containing the water." Logan dropped his arms around Wade's shoulders. "That was fast on the draw for the plug."

"I have a sneaking suspicion this has happened before."

"Hm." Logan trailed his fingers up and down Wade's spine. "Wanna go again?"

"Five minutes. Then I'm bottom this time. So get ready for me to be as bratty as possible."

#####

"Loooooooooogan." It was mid-morning. His boyfriend's voice was in his ear. His boyfriend's teeth were nipping at his skin. His boyfriend's hand was on his chest, now it was sliding down his stomach.

"I'm spent, babe," Logan said.

"I know, honey-suckle just trying to get your attention." Wade rolled on top of him, hooking his leg over Logan's hip. "We're not married. The license you found was, like…a gag gift. A souvenir. We never actually had them send it to the registrar..

"Yeah, I remembered while your mouth was around my dick."

Wade gently tossed his phone across to the other side of the bed.

"I found the text thread where I was pranking Laura with it."

"I don't think you ever showed me what she said.

"She said she was going to call me 'step-daddy' in a way that made everyone around us as uncomfortable as possible." Wade rubbed his forehead against his chest.

"That's my girl," Logan chuckled. "Haven't remembered why we were in Arizona, yet, though."

"Yeah. See. So I actually remember that pretty well, now. Um. I had the idea that we should be completely and totally away from anyone and anything we knew when we finished the memory wipe. I knew about a safehouse outside Ajo from my pre-cancer merc days. We just didn't make it, I think. Saying it back, though, I'm not following my own logic."

"Yeah, I have a memory of watching you snort a line of cocaine, but me not stopping you. So I think something about that first pill she gave us really fucked us up."

"Yeah, I'm remembering mostly everything, but there's about three days where the timeline just isn't…it just isn't, you know what I mean?"

"I think we're going to have to accept that some stuff isn't going to come back."

"I'm fine with that. All the important stuff did." Wade rested his face into the crook of Logan's neck. "So…how are we feeling? Now that we know why we did this?"

"I feel like we're idiots," Logan replied.

"Yeah…I actually do feel…extremely dumb holy shit Charlotte was right. I'm having such extreme clarity about everything. It's like going on an ayahuasca trip but worse, somehow."

Logan rolled over and pressed Wade into the mattress. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at him. Wade stared up through his eyelashes up at him. Logan wrapped his hand around Wade's side.

"I think it's going to be a very long time before we retire from being badasses and have to worry about not having anything in common. So we can wait to worry about that then."

"Oh, you're assuming we'll still be together when we're old and decrepit ugly."

"I intend to be handsome 'til I die, so whatever you want to do is up to you." Logan pressed his lips to Wade's forehead. "But I know for a fact I'm having too much fun to voluntarily stop this any time soon. So unless you die on me…"

Wade lifted up and pecked him on the lips.

"Which we both know is extremely difficult. So, yeah, no. You're going to be stuck with me forever. Sucks to be you."

"Sucks to be me." Logan dropped down to lie on top of Wade, tucking his arms underneath him. Wade's arm came up around his back and he scratched his nails across Logan's skin.

"You know, we could leave Las Vegas properly married. Just make the appointment."

"Nah," Logan replied. "When we get married I want to do it properly. I want to remember everything."

"Hm." Wade replied, humming low and deep.

#####

When we get married. Not if. When.

when when when when when when

When.

#deadclaws #poolverine #deadpool #worlverine #fanfiction #deadpool x wolverine

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penrose42 · 3 months ago

Text

I just want to scream this into the void so badly but honestly I fucking love the Violence circle in ULTRAKILL. The aesthetics of Greco-Roman architecture highlighted only with blood splatters really brings home the weight of your actions, where normally it'd just blend into the background in the darker circles, especially Heresy, but then 7-2 is where shit really amps up when it turns into WWII era Britain, with tracers flying across the skybox and Earthmovers in the distance ominously choreographing it all. The percussion in 'Hear the Siren Song of Death' mimicking machine gun fire juxtaposed by the flowing melody makes it feel like a war and ballroom waltz happening simultaneously, and you're the most nimble ballerina in center stage, with the spotlight right on you. The Gutterman with its 'mother' poem driving home the idea that the robots are becoming more human the more blood they absorb, which was hinted with the Mindflayers all the way back in Lust. Then the fucking trees in 7-3, which traditionally were suicide victims in not only Dante's works but also the Norse mythos, they come to your aid as you feed them blood, the very same fuel source you and the other machines seek, almost as though they regain some aspect of their humanity as well after so long being dormant. How do they repay you? Simple, they stop an Earthmover in its tracks in 7-4, allowing you to easily climb up, scale it's chassis city, take down anything in your path while you destroy it's defenses system, and finally destroy it's CPU in a blaze of defiant glory where you take down the affrontment to God himself, something no human or machine was able to do for centuries. Your purpose, your reason for existing, now realized and fulfilled, and now you seek to set ruin to Fraud and Treachery with no regard, no reflection on your acts or what that all meant or implied because you're a robot just doing what you were built to do. This is your nature. You were built to end the war but your battle continues regardless and will not cease until Hell is empty.

What I'm trying to say is goddamn ULTRAKILL is so fucking good.

#ultrakill #thoughts

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this-world-of-beautiful-monsters · 11 months ago

Note

prompt: spider takes the bullet, not neteyam. quaritch will do anything to get his son back, anything. he'll even work with augustine's recom.

(warnings for discussions of past torture and character death, although really an astonishingly gen ending to this magnificent journey)

ao3

"They won't help you," he says. "You know that, right?"

Augustine stares at him, face studiously blank the way it used to get during long board meetings. He can see her tail twitching, though, ears flickering like she's trying to ward off a nonexistent fly.

Behind her, farther down the bloodstained rock, Mo'at'ite hisses, knuckles white around her bow (that bow, that fuckingbow, but Quaritch won't look at it, anymore than he'll look at the body at Augustine's feet). She and Sully both have their weapons drawn, but Quaritch isn't the slow target he was in the AMP anymore and Augustine's standing tall, fucking up their sightlines.

"Kiri," Sully says, voice taut. "You gotta get out of the way, babygirl--"

Quaritch barks a laugh, the ragged kind that comes when you're teetering on the edge of hysteria. "Babygirl? You shitting me?" He shakes his head. "Come the fuck on, doc. The Augustine I know would've put out her cigarette on any man who tried that shit with her."

"She isn't Grace," Sully says hoarsely. "Kiri, stand down now. That's an order."

Quaritch doesn't even dignify that shit with a response, just rolls his eyes (easier to avoid looking at the ground, at the body). Augustine doesn't seem particularly moved either, her fingers flexing as she adjusts her stance.

She could kill him, Quaritch knows, without any help from her so-called mommy and daddy. He can feel the power crackling in the air around her, buzzing around her fists, blood-metallic on his tongue. It makes his kuru ache, same way it had in the woods--back then, he'd been too focused on Spider Spider Spider to really pay attention.

He knows better, now. He'd seen what she'd done to Lyle after Sully's voice has crackled over the line, sharp and cold and still shaking ever so slightly: your boy's dead, one of your dumb fucking grunts shot him. Let my daughters go, or you're next. Sully's always been a shit liar, but it was the panicked look at Lyle's face that made it impossible to deny.

Fucking Lyle. He's lucky the way Augustine turned his brain to slurry when she did, before Quaritch could get his hands on him. Lucky he doesn't have to fucking stand here and not look at the thing on the ground, the thing, the body--

"You think they'll even let you bury him?" he asks. "The locals won't stand to have this shit in their holy grounds--they'll probably give him back to Spellman so he can get dumped in a fucking crematorium. You'll never see your Monkey Boy again."

The pipsqueak with the eyebrows, tail lashing. "Don't you talk to her--" he growls, but Augustine cuts him off.

"I'll never see him either way." Her voice is hoarse--Quaritch remembers the way she screamed on the ship, like something had been torn loose in her and would never be put right. He knows that feeling.

"Kiri," the older boy says, the one Lyle had screamed something about trying to shoot instead as his blood ran out of his eyes. "Kir, please, come on--"

"We've got his memories," Quaritch cuts him off fast, can't let her get swayed by her fake family now. "At Bridgehead, we--we scanned them. Got a copy." If they're still there; they better be still there. The kid had thrown a shitfit in the scanner like every time before, but he'd still gone into the revamped Soul Drive with the rest of them.

"You hurt him." There's blood dripping from the tips of her fingers; he wonders if Sully and the rest have realized it's not hers.

"I did," Quaritch admits, because he doesn't have any time to fuck around. "Whatever you want to call me, whatever I've done, you're right. But I want him back, you understand? I mean it, you know I do."

She does. He can feel this fucking eyes of hers burn into him, bright with whatever wacky upgrades she got from her own trip through the other side, flaying him deeply enough she can see Spider Socorro's name written on her heart, same way it's written on hers. Kid's always had that fucking way about him.

"I want him back and none of these assholes will help, none of them could if they fucking wanted to, but I can." Quaritch takes a step forward and the Sullys tense, knuckles white on their weapons. "And you--you've got the know-how, you're the egghead I need in my corner. You brought yourself back, didn't you?"

"She didn't--" Sully whines.

"Didn't she?" Quaritch doesn't bother looking at him, keeps his eyes firmly on Augustine as he holds out a hand. She looks at it, then at him, those little flashy lights twinkling across her skin like she's rebooting. Remembering.

"I offered you a chance to make amends and work on this moon together, once." She knows what he's talking about, he can see it. "You told me to go stick my dick in a woodchipper, and you were right. But I don't care about that anymore, I don't give a fuck about this stupid mudball we're on or the stupid mud ball we're from, I just want my son."

His gaze flicks to her family, just for a second, then back to her. "They don't see anything about you except the meatsuit, same way those RDA pukes did with me. And they don't see anything about--" His breath catches, twists, "him, except that he's a big fucking mistake, and they'll do everything they can to forget he ever existed."

Silence. Her jaw works and he wonders if she wishes she had a cigarette right now--seeing her without one feels more jarring than the baby face or the blue skin.

"Kiri," the little girl whines, reaching out before the Metkayina girl carefully tugs her back. "Kiri, please."

Augustine's hair rustles with a wind that doesn't exist and her fists curls tight at her side, fingers trembling. Quaritch wonders if she's going to burn him like she burned Lyle, or maybe just call up something big and toothy to rip him apart.

And she might have, if Sully hadn't decided to lunge across the island in a few big, stupid strides, clapping his hand down her shoulder. "Kiri," he gasps, tugging her back. "Come on--"

Her eyes flare (panic anger fear, quick and smashed-up the way it always came with her) and she whirls, queue crackling, palms raised high. Sully goes staggering backward with a yelp, clutching his bleeding nose, and Mo'at'ite lunges to catch him before his head hits the rock. Augustine watches him topple, stunned still, gaping in horror.

Then she moves. Turns and scoops the...body up from the ground, cradling it (him) carefully to her chest even as she hustles down the rock. No vocalization, but her banshee swoops down from the sky, landing with a whomp of wings next to Cupcake, and she's hauling the body (Spider) onto the saddle before Quaritch's got his first leg up Cupcake's side.

"Kir!" Pipsqueak yells, rushing to their side, frantic. "Kir, wait, don't--"

She holds out a hand and he jerks to a half, from his own volition or hers it's hard to say. "Look after them," she says, and then Quaritch is fitting his own queue home, not that Cupcake needs more encouragement to go go go as they soar into the sky.

They go swoop out over the smoldering sea, Augustine's hair--Spider's hair--whipped gently by the wind. Quaritch glances over his shoulder to see the Sullys vanishing, a scatter of blue dots rapidly fading from view.

"They won't follow us," Augustine calls flatly. "Their ikran won't listen until we're out of range." She shoots him a cold look, hand resting on his son's spine--Quaritch doubts he's getting near that body any time soon, but that doesn't matter, he'll make it not matter. "Lead the way, Ranger Rick."

"Yes, ma'am," he says, just to be an asshole, tossing off a snide salute before leaning into the next turn. She bares her teeth the way the kid used and follows, banshees swerving together to meet the rising sun.

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talanashta · 2 months ago

Text

Show Night - Chapter Two

For this prompt ("After a show") for the Four or More Fic-a-thon @fourormore

Rating: M | No CWs: a black-pepper amount of spice | Word Count: 2,037 | Pairings: Spicy Six Plus Chrissy Polycule Additional Tags: Steve's POV

Read Chapter One

Finally, the show was over. Steve loved Eddie and loved watching him perform, but after all the head trauma he’d had, the loud music was a bit too much sometimes.

The group had gotten out the door mostly on time a few hours earlier, heading to the Hideout where Corroded Coffin was performing their regular show. It took three cars to get everyone there, but they managed. The kids were noisy as hell on the way there, but luckily Steve missed most of it, since he only had to drive Dustin and Robin. Jonathan had taken Argyle, Eden, Will, and El in his car, and Nancy crammed the rest in hers. He could tell by the worn out face Nancy was wearing when she arrived, though, that the rest of the Party had been just as wound up as Dustin was.

After they got Max out of the car and into her wheelchair, they had all headed inside, settling at a few tables along the wall. Steve had had to sic Nancy on Mike a few times, since he kept trying to convince them to let him have a beer, but otherwise, the rest of the night went smoothly.

Eddie’s set went great; he and the guys nailed every song they played, both covers and originals alike. Watching Eddie’s fingers fly over the frets had actually gotten Steve a little hot and bothered, to be honest.

After the set ended, Steve pulled down the sound-dampening earmuffs he’d been wearing and let them hang around his neck.

“You guys did great!” he told Eddie, pulling him into a hug.

Eddie blushed a little and pulled a strand of hair in front of his face. “Yeah?”

Steve felt Chrissy pop off her chair and drape herself over his back and around his shoulders. “Yeah! It was so good!”

Eddie beamed at the two of them. “I’m glad you liked it.” He gestured back to the small stage. “I’ve got to go help the guys get our stuff packed up and in the van before I can chat more. Otherwise, Gareth’s going to rip me a new one.”

“Okay!” Chrissy chirped and waved goodbye to him. She slid off Steve and headed back to Robin.

As Eddie was turning away, Steve offered, “I’ll come help.”

Eddie turned back to him, waiting for him to say more.

“Sooner we get you loaded up, the sooner we can get the kids to bed,” Steve explained. “Max won’t admit it, but I can tell she’s ready to crash.”

Leaning around Steve, Eddie took a quick look at Max, who was indeed starting to slump, leaning most of her top half against El and looking seconds away from falling asleep.

“Yeah. Let’s try to get out of here quick,” he agreed. Then he turned to the other guys and called, “Argyle. Jon.”

The two turned from their conversation and looked at him questioningly.

“Come help pack up the amps and stuff?” Eddie asked.

“Sure, man,” Argyle agreed good-naturedly. Jonathan was more on the quiet side and just stood to follow them.

Between the four band-mates and their three make-shift roadies, their whole set-up was packed and in the van in under twenty minutes. The rest of the guys headed back in to get everyone herded outside to leave while Eddie and Steve finished securing the equipment for travel.

Eddie slammed the back doors of the van shut when they were done (the doors wouldn’t close right otherwise, the piece of junk) and spun to look at Steve. He comically wiped his brow and said, “Woof, glad that’s done. Those things are not light.”

Steve couldn’t help himself when it came to this nerd. The words had barely finished leaving Eddie’s mouth before he was pressed up against the back of the van.

“Well, hello,” Eddie murmured, wide-eyed. No matter how many times they did this, he still acted surprised that it was happening. Steve was so gone on him.

“Hi,” Steve said lowly while sliding his leg in between Eddie’s. He leaned in so his mouth was a hairsbreadth away from Eddie’s. “You looked so good up there, baby.” He ran his hands up Eddie’s sides underneath his top, feeling up his warm, slightly sweaty skin, stopping midway up.

Eddie moaned and ground down on Steve’s thigh. “Yeah? I get you hot and bothered playing my guitar? The bad-boy rock-star look get you going, big boy?”

Steve was so grateful that Eddie was parked behind the bar where the wasn’t anyone around to see them like this when he pressed his mouth to Eddie’s, slow but firm. The warmth of Eddie against him and the taste of his mouth had him slowly getting hard in his jeans.

They stood there languidly kissing and grinding on each other for who knows how long (probably not really that long, since the others hadn’t all come out yet), when Steve feels another warm body press against his back.

“Hey, guys,” Argyle’s voice came softly from right near his ear as he pulled back from Eddie. “As nice as this show is, the kids are incoming, so you might want to wrap it up.” Steve felt one of Argyle’s hands card through the back of his hair as he spoke.

Eddie cleared his throat. “Thanks, man.”

Argyle leaned over Steve’s shoulder and pecked Eddie on the lips then Steve on the cheek. “No problem, dude.” He pulled away from the two of them. “I’m gonna go hop in Jon’s car. See you two at home!” He left in a jog, around the building and out of sight.

Eddie and Steve watched him go for a moment, then Eddie turned to Steve. “Wait, why did he come out the back?”

Steve thought about it and came up with… nothing. “Who knows, babe,” he said. “It’s Argyle.”

“Hm, true,” he agreed. Then he frowned. “You should probably head around to your car too. I’ve got to get the guys home, and you’ve got to take Robin and Dustin.”

Steve frowned, too, not wanting to pull away from Eddie’s warmth and love. “You’re right,” he grumbled, reluctantly, and peeled himself off his boyfriend.

Eddie put his hands on Steve’s shoulders and rubbed up and down a couple times. “You’ll be okay, you big ol’ baby.” He leaned in and pecked Steve one last time, before nudging him backwards. “Go wrangle our kids before Nancy shoots them. I’m sure they’re all driving her crazy,” he said. “And I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly want to explain to Claudia why we’re returning Dustin with a bullet wound.”

Steve brightened up a little and chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Eddie nodded firmly. “I’ll be home before my carriage turns back into a pumpkin,” he said, giving the back of the van a knock. “Don’t worry.” Then he got a wry smirk on his face. “Maybe we can spend some time in the Sex Dungeon when I get back.”

Groaning, Steve dropped his head back. “I wish you guys would stop calling it that. It’s upstairs! It can’t be a dungeon!” He turned and started to head around the building; he raised a hand and turned his head to look behind him as he said, “Bye.”

“Bye, Stevie!” Eddie called cheerfully. “Love you! Drive safe!”

He turned to walk backwards so he could look at Eddie as he said, with a slight blush, “Yeah, yeah. Love you, too. You drive safe too. You drive like a maniac,” and then he reached the corner of the building and was out of sight.

Steve couldn’t quite see the whole group since they were partly out-of-view around the front of the building, but he saw the younger teens bouncing around and chatting loudly while the older ones huddled up smoking and talking, with Robin and Chrissy off to the side… square-dancing? He assumed that was Robin’s doing since she was singing something while she spun around Chrissy around.

God, he loved Robin, but she was so weird sometimes.

Once he got close enough, he put his hands around the sides of his mouth and called, “Hey, this isn’t Texas, Robin! We’re in Indiana.”

Robin dropped Chrissy’s arm and spun around so fast, Steve worried for a second that she’d just tip right over, but she maintained her balance and mock-angrily yelled back, “You can talk Mr. Back-Lot Make-outs!”

Steve gasped playfully. “How could you, Argyle?” He could tell Eddie was rubbing off on him (in more ways than one) with how dramatic he was getting, going so far as to put his hand over his heart. “I thought we had something!”

“Sorry, man,” Argyle said, not a hint of remorse in his tone. He took another pull off the blunt in his hand. “To be far, though, I think most of them already suspected.” Then he gave Steve a mellow smile.

He laughed at that. “True, man.” He gestured and said, magnanimously, “I forgive you.”

“Thanks, man. Don’t know what I’d do with myself if you didn’t,” Argyle played along. Then he got back to his conversation with Jonathan, returning his arm around Eden.

Chrissy and Robin had come up on either side of him while he was talking to Argyle so he wrapped an arm around each girl. “Hey, Chris, Rob.” He plopped a kiss on top of each girl’s head, Robin’s first, of course. “What was up with the square-dancing?”

Robin instantly started rambling out a story about the square-dancing unit in elementary-school gym (which, how did he ever manage to forget that torture? He blamed the multiple concussions) and how Chrissy had never done it since she moved to Hawkins at the start of middle school. Chrissy chimed in occasionally to add a detail here or there, and like, he understood the why now, but he still didn’t understand how square-dancing came up in the first place… Thinking about it, he decided he’d be better off not asking, honestly. They’d be here another half hour while Robin “explained.”

By the time Robin got to the end of her story (only going off on three tangents before then; good job, Robs!), the kids had gotten antsy enough to start causing mischief and mayhem, so he had to pull away from her and Chrissy and practically wrestle them into the various cars with Nancy’s help so that they could leave.

Once they’d gotten home, gotten the kids all settled for the night, and gotten ready for bed themselves, Steve was beyond ready to crash. The adrenaline from the show had dissipated by this point, and he was left dragging himself into bed.

Practically as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep. At some point later, he was dragged from the depths of his slumber to the sound of someone coming in the bedroom. Eddie. It had to be, since he hadn’t been back by the time Steve crashed.

He groggily opened his eyes the tiniest fraction and saw Robin snoring, fast asleep next to him, and Chrissy sitting up in bed with the lamp on, reading a book.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he heard Eddie whisper to Chrissy.

“Hi,” she replied, soft and syrup-sweet.

He heard the tink of Eddie’s rings in the bowl on the dresser. “I see Thing 1 and Thing 2 are out cold.” Then Steve heard the rustling of Eddie getting undressed. “Guess that means no Sex Dungeon tonight, huh?” Eddie asked, cheekily.

Chrissy let out the quietest little laugh. “I’m pretty tired too, so no. I just wanted to wait up to make sure you got home safely.” Even though he was half-asleep, Steve felt so proud of Chrissy in that moment. When they’d first gotten together, she’d felt so guilty every time she said no to sex with them, so this was big.

“That’s alright.” He could hear the smile in Eddie’s tone; he must be thinking the same thing as Steve. “Let me just brush my teeth and pee, and I’ll be in bed in a second.”

“Okay. I love you,” was the last thing Steve heard before he was pulled back to sleep, a smile on his face.

#fourormore #stranger things #fruity four #spicy six #polyamory #polycule #prompt fill #platonic stobin #talanashta writes #my lonely days are gone

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cryptidjapan · 6 months ago

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Natsumi giant bat

夏見の大コウモリ（Natsumi giant bat）

Bintaro Yamaguchi, a cryptid researcher in Japan, was driving in Natsumi, Funabashi, Chiba Prefecture, when he saw a bat as large as the lamp section of a traffic light.

The flying fox and similar large bats do not live in Honshu.

Bintaro, who witnessed the sighting, proposed the theory that the bat was a flying fox that had come from the Ogasawara Islands or overseas, where it had been mixed in with ships.

This story was presented in an interview conducted with Bintaro.

（https://3pun-qk.com/heard/1284.html?amp=1）

（I am Japanese and use deepl translation for translation. Sorry if the text is wrong.）

#cryptozoology #cryptid #cryptids

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entriprises · 3 months ago

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the two things that bring bradley a bit out of his head are practicing piano and going for a drive. they're both activities that require concentration and therefore make it harder for him to really get too messed up by his thoughts or drown in them.

he's been playing piano since he could sit at the bench-- on top of a couple of phonebooks. he had piano lessons all through his childhood, ending about when he got to high school but he still kept up with piano and the ritual of practicing and dedicating time to it. when things got particularly stressful, piano was one of the few things he didn't run away from but instead ran towards. that's not to say there weren't some years in his childhood and even in college where he was so disinterested in piano and would take breaks. eventually he'd come back around, hear something grand, and want to jump back into it.

the performance aspect of it is a lot of fun. he loves to use it as a party trick, to show off this skill he's spent so long practicing. he likes being able to liven a room up so much that nobody can think -- he's certainly chasing that. there's smugness and comfort in any piano bench. but at home, the songs are slower and he's much less rushed or amped up by it. he doesn't often sing when he practices either, more likely to hum. he could sit at the piano in his home for whole days and get lost in that -- though if he is sitting for more than a half a day it could double back and be less relaxing and turn much more self critical/emotional. there's a line, but he doesn't know where it is and more often than not he doesn't cross it. he walks away from the bench a little lighter

going for a drive can do two things for bradley: offer him a space to be at peace with his thoughts or put him to sleep.

driving demands his attention, it makes him focus on the specific little actions, much like piloting, except it's just him and the road and there's a much larger sense of freedom. it relaxes him, keeps him grounded. it was just him and the car and he was in control. that's also a specific reason why this differs from when he's flying because there he is in control, and it is very specific, but there's so much more room for error with the ground out from under you and so many others relying on him. driving to relax was something he discovered in college and the years shortly after. going for drives, leaving the school area, with or without a destination in mind worked wonders to clear out all the pressures and grief that he was still dealing with.

when he was a baby and then a toddler, the most surefire way of putting him to sleep was taking him for a drive. it started with goose doing that when he had the time and then his mom and grandmother did it all through the rest of his single digits. it's still somewhat effective even at a much older age and with the right quiet atmosphere and smooth drive he can easily fall asleep against the window. he doesn’t usually like sitting passenger anymore though and that’s just a combination of it not feeling the same, not having control, and some trauma

#okay now that this is done and typed up i can go for my run #piano classical is putting me to sleep #those are my big bradley thoughts that i've had for a while and wanted to put down!#mwah!#headcanons ⋆˙ bradley bradshaw

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maxverstappensflatbrim · 1 year ago

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Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [9]

chapter nine, act two: anobrain

March 13th 2012

The very few artists that she has met, Little Night Terrors, Little Comets, Catfish and the Bottlemen. They’ve all told her about how awful tour life is. The moving around, the no solid warm bed to stay in.

Spoke about the empty feeling they had created for themselves that they filled with things they shouldn’t have.

But not Tommie, she’s loving it. The running around with the stage hands, learning the best way to set up amps, going to new places, seeing new things.

Tommie has never felt like she had a home, her entire childhood was spent moving between her mother’s house, father’s house and her grandparent’s house. Every other day a new place to try and settle into.

This constant moving around is nothing new to her, and some selfish part of her loves the fact she can handle it better than the others.

She likes how they make passing comments about her handling the touring better. Because it means she’s good at it, she’s better than them all at something.

The past few weeks they’ve been travelling the UK doing different shows.

It’s not the driving around, the travelling, or the moving that she can't handle.

It's the people, the performing in front of strangers, the being on stage that she can’t handle.

But so far so good, nothings gone completely wrong yet, as of today they’re flying out to America, Texas, for a festival.

It's her first time in America, all of their first times besides George who’d spent a couple years in his childhood there.

She sits with her headphones on, head down, focusing on the steady bounce of Matty’s foot beside her, his knee jerking into hers.

If she didn’t have her headphones on it would probably drive her nuts.

Not a single word has been spoken between the pair since the car ride. Not one word.

It’s actually been easy, George takes charge when it comes to sound checks most of the time, so any issues in the gigs she goes to him.

Any issues with her guitar she goes to Adam, any issues with Matty she goes to Ross.

When they’re at their apartment he’s spending most of his time with Gemma, dotting on her every movement, almost as if he’s ridden with guilt. (He is.)

Tired with the little motion she can see in her peripherals she places her hand on his knee, eyes not straying from her notebook where she’s jotting down all different kinds of things.

Matty’s whole body tenses at the touch, lump stuck in his throat as he turns his body a little to face her.

He watches her work, lip slightly chewed, glasses slipping down her nose, hairs in her face and nose crinkled in concentration.

It feels like hours- no, years- later that she removes her hand, flicking her page but never returning it to his knee.

The spot that is now cold, he yearns for her hand to be back there, to warm him up, comfort him.

Instead he stands quickly as their boarding group is called, grabbing his backpack and swinging it over one shoulder, passport and boarding pass in hand as he rushes to be first on.

The others rush after him, Ross lingering to wait for Tommie, knowing she hates crowds and prefers to hang back.

He’s laughing to himself as she slowly approaches and she raises a brow, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Ross.”

“Nothing.”

“Ross.” She says again, a little more sternly.

He looks away, still smirking as he shrugs, “It’s funny how a simple touch from you can turn him into a blushing teenager.”

“He is a blushing teenager.”

Ross nods in agreement then ducks down a little, “Only around you.”

She elbows him in the ribs and he catches it, “What’s happened?”

“Hmm?” She turns away adjusting her zip up on her shoulders.

“You two, I mean, you’ve been off the past couple months but the past two have been torture for everyone.” He tilts his head, “What’s happened?”

She chews her lip, eyes going down the few people in the queue before them, Matty’s right at the front, not even looking back as he sprints down the hallway to the plane, George hot on his heels with Adam and Jamie not too far behind them.

She debates on telling him, or keeping it a secret, letting it eat her alive even longer.

But she knows Ross, she trusts Ross, more than anyone in the world. Despite his habit of saying things he probably shouldn’t he is the one she’ll go to if she wants a secret to be kept. He’s good at keeping his friend’s secrets.

“He kissed me.”

Ross nods, “I know, he let it slip a few months ago when he was drunk, told me not to tell Adam. On the roof? Is that what it is? The issues with Gemma?”

She shakes her head, “No, Ross, he kissed me on the way to Newcastle, in the car, when our song was on the radio. He kissed me.”

Ross is silent and she lets out a stuttering breath as she turns to look at him, “I know. I’m awful, we’re awful. God, what about Gemma? I feel awful, poor girl, I’d hate-”

“Hey, hey,” He grabs her arm to stop her rambling, “It was his decision not yours. Matty’s the one responsible.”

“The reason we argued,” She goes on, “Reason that we stopped talking, stopped being us. I told him I didn’t want to be a second choice, to him, to anyone. Told him not to use me for when his girlfriend’s not around and he feels lonely.”

Ross nods in understanding, he opens his mouth ready to chime in with his own comment but she carries on, “Worst part is, I-I miss him, Ross. Miss our late night chats, our weed talks, miss being us.”

“Matty he,” Ross sighs looking up to think of the right words, “Hasn’t been himself the past couple months with this album coming out. And Gemma coming back, I mean, they broke up a while ago, on bad terms, didn’t expect her back really. He’s been doing a lot of stuff to keep his mind off things, more weed than usual, he’s uh, not sleeping anymore.”

He turns to look at her, “Which doesn’t excuse the fact he did it, he still has to take responsibility, it’s just…”

He sighs and she nods, handing her boarding pass to the attendant, “I know, Ross.”

They don’t discuss further, don’t mention what it is that they both know. She does, as they’re nearing the door of the plane, turn to him once more, “I’m not gonna stop looking out for him.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

March 15th 2013

“Nervous?”

She breathes in deeply trying her hardest not to let her eyes glance over to him and the stupid tank top he’s wearing.

She nods, gaze settled on a group of guys completely uninterested in the act currently in front of them. Some small town stuck-up band from a state she’s never even heard of.

She doesn’t blame the crowd for barely interacting with them, but she hopes they don’t think the same of them.

Matty squeezes her shoulder, tugging her back into his chest, the top he’s wearing curls awkwardly, scratching at the back of her upper arm. When he notices the discomfort in her posture- the way she leans away from that one part of him, he moves one hand to flatten the vest out.

“We’ll be fine. We’ll be great.”

“Hope so.” She mutters to herself.

She clears her throat, sipping the water Adam had gotten her, “What’s the setlist again?”

“The City, Chocolate, Settle Down, Sex and You.”

She turns to him quickly, “You?”

“Mhmm.”

She looks away, pursing her lips. He smiles to himself, acting as if he didn’t know You was one her favourites.

The band comes off, she can’t remember their names, but as they pass by she catches eyes of the drummer who tilts his head with a smile, pausing beside her, “Good luck out there, tough crowd.”

She shrugs, “Or bad band.”

God, why did she say that?

She breathes in, lifting her shoulders and hiding the way her eyes widen by keeping them forward.

His brows raise, but there’s a playful smirk on his face, “You think you and your ‘mates’ can do better?”

“Guess we’ll have to perform and find out.”

“Alright,” He turns to her, ignoring the slap on the backside from his lead singer, and the glare from Matty behind her, “You get that group of frat boys at the back to interact, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“She’s eighteen.” Matty says, slinging his arm over her shoulder, “And we’ve got a gig to put on, so swing your ‘ook.”

She elbows him in the side and turns back to him, “Deal.”

He nods, “I’ll be watching.”

“I’ll be performing.”

She smiles to herself, turning around to see the rest of the guys watching, her cheeks heat up and she lets her shoulders sag a little, “What?”

“No.” The four speak at the same time.

She rolls her eyes, “Not fair, if he had tits and half the sexual energy he just did, you’d be all over it.”

“Get on stage.”

She grabs her guitar, the green fender, and is following Matty up as he introduces them and the first song.

The performance goes well, she stands in her usual spot, between Ross and Matty, playing her riffs and parts as she sings quietly into the mic so as not to overpower Matty’s vocals.

She makes eye contact with the drummer from the American band a few times. And when the frat boys are the one cheering the loudest she lifts the bottle in her hand towards him.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

He talks a lot, she realises, three sips into her drink.

And he has one of those really annoying and obnoxious American accents that makes her want to rip her ears off.

But he’s nice.

He says things that make her laugh, and he shares a few interests.

He gives her attention, tells her things she’s never heard a guy say to her before.

Compliments her music taste, her voice, her clothes, her hair and her guitar skills.

She learns his name is Caleb, he’s been in the band ‘Dirty Delights’ (a name she laughs at so hard she’s choking on her drink) for almost nineteen years. He’s older than her, more mature than guys her age, but neither seem to mind. He’s from Georgia, has an older brother, Brent, a younger sister, Alice, and his family is a strict Christian family.

He even goes into the deeper details, telling her of the messy divorce which led to him moving into a caravan with his father and his brother, his sister living in their childhood home with her mother.

About how he hated his mother for years until his dad died when he was nineteen and he had to move in with her. Tells her the four of them are closer than ever now.

He asks her how long she’s been in her band, asks about their album, commenting on how ‘lucky’ they are to have gotten it so early into their career.

She doesn’t comment on the fact that the guys were in a band years before she joined, trying and failing to get the EPs and the album.

She also doesn’t tell him about her family, like he so desperately wants her to.

She sticks to the basics, ‘Adam, the other guitarist is my cousin, basically my brother, I’ve lived with him for a while’ and ‘I grew up with my grandparents until they moved abroad.’

He doesn’t press for more, which is what she likes about him.

At the end of the night, the glasses (one turned into five) have been drained, and she’s messaged George, currently the only sober one, to come meet her.

“I hope you guys go on to do greater things.” He says, as he waits outside with her for George to arrive. His hands tucked into the pockets of his skinny jeans.

She smiles in thanks, “Hope you guys finally get that album.”

He nods a little, “We’re getting there.”

She needs to, looking across the street, “Uh, my friends and I, we’re going to a party before we go back to the place we’re staying at. You interested?”

He purses his lip, and tilts his head, “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I can’t. I really enjoyed tonight, you’re a great girl, but I’ve got another gig, we’re leaving at seven A.M, if I’m late again, Bryan,” (the lead singer), “Will kick my ass.”

She nods, “I get it, we’re late all the time, I completely rinse the guys every time, I hate lateness.”

He nods knowingly, “Is that why you’ve been extra anxious for the past three minutes?”

She chuckles, head falling to look at her shoes, hair covering her blushing cheeks, and nods, “George was supposed to be here at nine sharp.”

George’s ears must bleed, because he appears around the corner out of breath as if he had been running.

“So- Sorry, Tom. Didn’t mean to be late, got lost. Americans are- har- hard to understand.”

She smiles, turning to look at Caleb, “Nice meeting you, and thanks.”

He nods, passing another slight nod to George, “See you ‘round, mate.”

George sighs as they both watch him leave the opposite way they’re going, “You get his number?”

She shakes her head with a shrug and he shoves her shoulder as they start walking, “What? With all that sexual tension? You at least did it in the bathroom, right?”

She purses her lips and silently continues on, “What? Not even a quick shag? And you’re letting him go?”

“I’m not one for a ‘quick shag’, G,” She mutters, quietly adding onto the end, “Especially when I’ve never had one.”

He pretends he doesn’t hear that, but he does. And he changes the subject, discussing Ross' new ‘cocktail’ which was just Vodka, Redbull, Orange Gin, Fanta and a squeeze of an orange slice.

She pulls a face, and then cringes when he tells her about Adam and Matty’s attempt at the Dirty Dancing lift.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

March 16th 2013

Tommie groans, head pounding as she’s grabbed by someone and brought back into a chest.

There’s muffled shouting and she tries to open her eyes but the brightness of the room is too much.

“Holy fuck-”

“Matty!”

“This guys a fuck-”

“Get up! Get up, now, assholes!”

Tommie’s suddenly wide awake, being dragged up by Matty’s hand on her wrist, she blinks a little as she looks up at him, he’s got her turned so her chest is to his naked one.

It’s then she realises she’s naked too, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. George is shedding his t-shirt from last night, pulling it over her head so she can turn around to see what’s going on.

One of the sound technicians who’s been travelling with them is still in the bed, along with one of their tour manager's assistants.

“What the fuck?”

“Get out!”

She looks to the stranger's voice, seeing a man with a shotgun, it’s then that her eyes widen, “Roddy?”

“It’s okay.”

“What the actual- Matty?”

“Alright,” Matty says, hands out as if trying to calm a wild animal, “We’re going, okay? Gonna get our shit and go, alright?”

“Hey, what’s all that shout- Holy fuck, Adam!”

Adam groans, shoving Ross in the shoulder, “What Ro- oh my-”

Matty’s hands return to Tommie’s shoulders carefully, clutching onto the soft fabric of the t-shirt as a shirtless George slowly climbs over the bed around him, “Alright, look, mate-”

“Don’t mate me, we stated plain and simple when y’all got here that this is a religious household, no taboo-”

“What's a taboo?”

His eyes flicker to Tommie and Matty pulls her further back leaning a little closer to warn her to shut up.

He looks over at the others gathered in the door and nods his head for them to go, “Matt-” Ross is the one who tries to step forward but he shakes his head nodding again.

“Go gather everyone up, tell ‘em to get their shit, we’re going.”

Adam’s eyes haven’t left his little cousin, she quickly nods at him as she looks around the room trying to see if any of her stuff is in here.

She doesn’t even know how she ended up in here.

They all back away from the doorframe slowly quickly gathering the rest of the team to start off outside towards the cars they’d brought with them.

Matty looks around and tries to slowly edge them towards the door, Tommie clutching onto his arm as they move, “We’ll go-”

“You disrespect our house, our religion, my mother-”

“We meant no disrespect to anyone, promise-”

“He’s circumcised!” Tommie suddenly yells and he tilts his head.

“Shut up.”

“What in the Lord’s name is that supposed to mean?”

Tommie shrugs, “Religious people do that, right?”

“Jewish people, Baby.” Matty mutters, “Wrong religion.”

“Jesus was Jewish.” She mumbles back.

“Okay,” Matty keeps moving them slowly, turning his body so Tommie is behind him, “We’re gonna go.”

“Y'all are staying until the cops arrive, my momma called them.”

“For what?” Matty mutters another warning of her name, “What did we do? What are they gonna charge us with?”

“Tommie-”

“Vandalism, underage drinking, prostitution, br-”

“I’m not a prostitute!” She yells in offence.

“On three?” Matty asks.

She nods, moving her hand to grip onto his, ignoring the Texans religious and honourable rambling, “One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

They both let go of each other to run around him, Tommie kicking him in the back of the leg as she goes, “Chicken leg!”

Matty cackles, grabbing her as they run down the stairs and out into the large fields surrounding the house.

Most cars are half way down the gravel driveway already with Adam, Ross, George and Rick waiting with one of the larger mini vans.

Matty laughs as he grabs her, pushing her in before Adam is grabbing his arm and pulling him in after them, Ross quickly driving off.

He lies on top of her on the floor at the feet of George and Adam, staring up at the ceiling before the entire car erupts in laughter.

“Holy shit.”

“Oh my God.”

“Welcome to America, ya’ll.”

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart

@indierockgirrl

@sofaritsalrightt

@julezs-bl0g

(Been having trouble with the tag list so sorry if it’s not working)

#matty healy x reader #matty healy x oc #matty healy imagine #the 1975 x oc #the 1975 x reader #show me yours matty healy

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