#I LOVE THE NAME GUNS N ROSES FOR THEM

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 6

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 4] [Pt. 5]

[mssorceressupreme]

Let The World Burn

——— Pairing: Hwang In-Ho (or Young-Il) x reader

Summary: In-Ho would let the world burn for you, developing a huge soft spot and love for you, once you die in his arms, he’s determined to make sure everyone pays for it

Warnings: reader!death, angst, mentions of gunshots, daeho has ptsd, violence, swearing, mentions of blood, deaths

a/n: reader doesn’t know he’s the frontman fyi

———

The arena was a hellscape. The air smelled of gunpowder and fear, screams mingling with the deafening sound of gunfire. Shadows darted in and out of your vision as frantic players pushed past you, some tripping over fallen bodies, others using them as shields.

Every step you took felt like a battle against the tide of selfish desperation.

You clutched the heavy bag of bullets to your chest, your heart pounding wildly. Somewhere out there, Young-il was fighting, orchestrating this mess while holding together the fragile remnants of control.

Dae-ho cowered behind the bunk beds, leaning with his legs to his chest on his bunk bed, his hands trembling as he peeked out.

You’d told him to stay put, and thankfully, he listened. You couldn’t blame him for being terrified—it was every man for himself now, and his fear was written all over his face.

“Stay here,” you had told him, squeezing his shoulder as the fear and panic grew in his eyes. “I’ll find Young-il and Gi-hun. You’ll be okay, alright? I'll come back for you, you just stay put here.” You comforted, he trembled with fear, clutching his legs tighter at every gun shot.

He nodded, wide-eyed, and you’d forced yourself to turn away before the weight of the situation could settle over you. Now, pushing through the chaos, your focus narrowed. You had to find Young-il.

“Young-il!” you screamed, your voice raw as you ran through the area, running up the stairs, dodging bullets and panicked players. “Young-il!” It felt like a never-ending maze of death.

He was there, standing in the midst of the chaos like a storm given human form. His sharp features twisted in determination, his dark eyes scanning the crowd as he dodged bullets and ran from the chaos. You called out to him again, louder, but he didn’t hear you over the deafening sounds of death and desperation.

Before you could reach him, a frantic player shoved you from behind. You stumbled, dropping the bag of ammo and as you bent down to pick it up, a sharp burning pain ripped through your side. BANG! The world spun as your knees buckled. The ground was cold and unforgiving when you hit it, the bullets spilling out of the bag and scattering across the floor.

It was a surreal kind of agony, blinding and consuming. You tried to breathe, but it felt like your lungs had been punched.

Blood was warm against your hands as you pressed them to the wound, your vision blurring as tears welled in your eyes.

You tried again, your voice trembling as you whispered, “Young-il…”

Through the haze, you saw him turn, his eyes landing on you. For a moment, time froze. His face- usually so unreadable, so carefully controlled, cracked with raw emotion. Horror. Rage. Despair. He saw you.

And then he ran.

“Young-il...” you tried to say again, but the sound barely left your lips.

When he reached you, he dropped to his knees, his hands immediately pressing over yours to stem the bleeding.

“No,” he whispered, his voice shaking as his eyes darted across your body, assessing the damage.

“No, no, no! NOT HER!” His voice rose as he turned his fury to the guards, his tone sharper than a blade. “She’s not a target for fucks sake!”

His words carried the weight of command, but the guards hesitated only briefly. Young-il didn’t wait for an answer.

His focus snapped back to you, his hands trembling as he cradled you against his chest.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “Please, you have to stay with me. I can fix this. Just hold on, okay? Please.”

You blinked up at him, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Young-il…” His name was the only thing you could manage, but it was enough to draw his gaze back to you, his dark eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Don’t talk,” he said quickly, his hands pressing harder against your wound. “Save your strength. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

There was a desperation in his voice that you’d never heard before, a vulnerability that broke through his steely exterior. It was almost enough to make you believe him. Almost.

A small, weak smile tugged at your lips. “You… always so serious,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted… to help.”

“And you did,” he said fiercely, his voice trembling. “You did more than enough. Just stay. Please stay!"

Your hand, slick with blood, reached up to touch his face. He flinched at the contact, but didn’t pull away. “Thank you,” you whispered. “For caring.”

“No, no, no…” His voice cracked as your hand slipped away, falling limply to your side. “Don’t you dare…” His words dissolved into a choked sob as he pulled you closer. "FUCK!" He cried aloud, rocking you gently in his arms.

The chaos around him seemed to fade into nothingness as he held you, now lifeless, his world crumbling in his arms. His tears fell freely now, staining your already bloodied clothes. He pressed his forehead to yours, his breath ragged and uneven. "My Y/N..." he whispered. "My Y/N..."

And then, the grief turned to something darker.

When he finally looked up, his face was a mask of cold fury. He laid you down gently, brushing a hand over your face to close your eyes. Then he rose, his movements slow, deliberate.

The guard who had shot you barely had time to react before Young-il shot bullet which tore through his chest. One shot. Then another. And another. Now limp, the guard fell to the ground, dead.

“Young-il” Gi-hun’s voice called, but it was drowned out by the sound of gunfire as Young-il turned his wrath on the rest. He didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate. For a mere second, you had given him a glimmer of hope, he had reconsidered his actions for a short moment in time. He even thought about ending the games and running away to take care of you, and only you. But no, now, he remembered who he truly was. The man who had once orchestrated the games with calculated precision was gone, replaced by someone unrecognisable—a man consumed by amplified vengeance and grief. A man with no mercy. A man with no heart. Every last bit of empathy, washed away.

“For her,” he muttered under his breath as he fired another shot. “For her.”

Young-il had lost everything before. But losing you? That was a wound that would never heal. For you, he would destroy it all. Let the world burn. Let them all pay.

[pathologicalreid]

forwards beckon rebound | s.r.

[previously]

in which fate reveals itself to you and Spencer. it's exactly as you feared, you're in love with him.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: blowing smoke FINALE (p4), maeve, kidnapping, russian roulette, imminent death, violence, blood, nondescript case fic, no hea word count: 1.88k a/n: two things 1) i do have an alternate ending to this series 2) fluff this weekend i promise

Brightness seared your retinas when the blindfold finally came off, you felt the sore skin in places where the fabric was too tight over your face. An abstract of indents were left over your skin.

Dots and shadows danced in your vision while you tried to blink them away, forming the shape of someone who oddly resembled Spencer. He was hunched over in a chair in front of you, his neck bent at an uncomfortable angle. Your solace was the steady rising and falling of his chest. Each time he took a breath it eased your own.

“Spence,” you called for him, your throat so swollen that it came out as a hiss. The desperate cry of a rattlesnake hindered by whoever had crushed your windpipe.

Tunnel vision blinded you to anything in the periphery, your eyes scanned Spencer while you acquainted yourself with the binds around your wrists and ankles. He seemed unharmed, save for the obvious unconsciousness. You had no idea who had taken you, but the BAU had no shortage of enemies. The two of you were, by extension, always targets.

Your ears perked up at the first sign of noise in the warehouse, hot air rose to the floor you were on, leaving you sticky and uncomfortable in the humid prison. Glancing over your shoulder, you watched a masked figure waltz through the doorway.

Clocking the gun affixed to their hip, you quickly looked over to Spencer, hoping he would wake up soon. The fabric ties around your wrists dug into your fragile skin as you looked around the room, remembering there was someone else in here with you, someone who had pulled your blindfold off.

Silently, you started putting the pieces together. “Spencer,” you whispered, having half a mind to reach your foot out and try to kick him awake. There was a reason you had been the one blindfolded. Somewhere in your subconscious, you knew where you were. It led to the horrifying realization that this was about you.

His nose wrinkled, and the first sign that he was starting to wake up was interrupted when the masked figure stood behind him, gripping him by his hair and lifting his head.

Your body instinctively tried to jump to its feet in protest, “Hey!” You shouted as your chair creaked from its bolts in the ground, “Let him go.” Cringing, you watched as he dropped Spencer’s head, letting it loll to the side while he woke up.

The two UnSubs walked out of the room, leaving you and Spencer to your own devices. You shushed him slightly while he groaned, your breath hitching when your name slipped past his lips.

“It’s okay,” you told him. “I’m okay, I’m right here,” you assured him, though you weren’t entirely sure how comforting it was knowing you were both bound to chairs.

Spencer didn’t respond. You twisted your wrist within your binds and winced when it pulled in precisely the wrong way. Looking around, you chewed on the inside of your lip and tried to find something to help you, but there was no next step if you couldn’t get your hands free.

He groaned across from you, and you swallowed back a consolation. You studied him, his head tilted so aggressively to the side that you could see the glint of the scar on his neck. The faded mark was invisible to the naked eye, but when it caught in just the right light, you remembered the way you’d succumbed to dread in that hospital in Texas.

You should’ve called it then. You should have thrown in the proverbial towel and committed yourself to him that very night, with that guy bleeding out on the hospital floor and Penelope shouting about her ears popping.

But you’d heard the gunshot, and you’d seen the fear on his face, and at that moment, the only thing you could remember was trying to pick him up from the floor when he tried to crawl over to Maeve’s lifeless body. You remembered the way he cried when the team tried to give him space and you watched him push Diane’s body over so he could finally get a look at his dearly departed.

Even before she became the most beautiful girl in the world, you never trusted yourself with him. Your lack of faith in him pressed upon your shoulders like the weight of the sky. The pendant he had gifted you seared your chest like a brand. The Tree of Life weighed heavy over your heart.

Your romance with Spencer was like a car crash you couldn’t take your eyes off of. He relentlessly rammed his shoulder into the wall you’d constructed between you while you were on the other side reinforcing the bricks. His soft skin had been marred with bruises, and debris was littered across your body.

You should’ve called it then, but besides your sinking feeling that you’d never step up to the pedestal he had placed Maeve on, you knew you’d only have him temporarily. Life was excruciatingly short, and no amount of time would suffice when it came to him

The wall remained standing in the same way that Maeve’s had, refusing to let Spencer in, refusing to let Spencer help. “Spence,” you whispered. “Are you alright?”

Slowly, his eyes lifted to look at you, and you imagined he was witnessing his worst nightmare. Maybe he’d convince himself he was dreaming, damning you to the fate of telling him this was really happening. “You’re bleeding,” he said, voice gruff from lack of use. His brown eyes flashed with fear when they met yours, but it was no longer residual fear from Maeve’s death—it was fear for you. Had it always been fear for you? Was it possible that the terrorized look in his eye that pushed you away from him had always stemmed from his fear of losing you?

Wrinkling your nose, you finally felt it on your upper lip; blood had trickled from your nose down your face. You shook your head once and said, "It’s just my nose.” You watched his face contort as he tried to free himself from his binds.

Birds chirped outside of the windows; the setting sun invaded the blinds that shadowed the otherwise dark room. Lines of tangerine light lit his face while he ascertained your well-being for himself. There was no point in asking if you knew what had happened, and Spencer wasn’t in the habit of wasting time.

You tried using your thumbnail to cut through the twine around your wrists, the broken piece of keratin on your hand was, so far, the best option you’d had. “Did you see anything?” You asked him, trying to use conversation as a distraction from your current predicament.

He only said your name in response, wide eyes looking past you and watching as the man in the ski mask walked back into the room. The revolver that had previously been holstered on his hip was now in his hands. He spun the cylinder as he approached you, and your heart dropped when he raised the gun, pointing it at Spencer.

“No,” your voice was no more than a whisper while Spencer looked up at your abductor. He met his gaze and refused to flinch, even when he pulled the trigger. Someone who had never met Spencer would think he was entirely stone-faced in the face of a weapon, but you watched the light in his eyes shift and his Adam’s apple bob.

When he pulled the trigger and nothing happened, your chest tightened, but everything about Spencer’s demeanor changed when the gun was turned on you. The barrel pressed to your temple, you shook your head when the shouting started, “Stop!” You closed your eyes, two silent tears streaking your face as the cold metal pressed against your skin. “Let her go,” Spencer urged. “You don’t need both of us.”

The bargaining started, and memories flashed behind your eyelids. Her for me. Let me take her place.

Spencer called your name when the trigger was pulled again, and the weapon clicked without expelling a bullet.

“Where is she?” Your abductor asked, his voice ringing out in an unfamiliar accent, referring to a mystery woman.

You shook your head once when the weapon was removed from your temple, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Part of you wished you were just egging on a suspect, but you felt entirely powerless while you looked at Spencer, confused.

His clenched fist made contact with your cheek, eliciting a shout from Spencer while your head twisted to the side. “Don’t lie to me! I know she called you.”

The gun rose again, “Please,” you cried as the barrel met Spencer’s forehead. “We can help you if you tell us what’s going on,” you assured the unnamed man.

Flinching, you watched the revolver click again, now halfway through the six cartridges. You were left with three more chances and, presumably, one bullet. “Killing one of us isn’t going to get us to help you,” Spencer tried to reason with him, but if there was one thing you knew, it’s that you can’t change a mind that’s been made up.

He scoffed, lifting the gun to your head, and you felt the blood drain from your face in anticipation. Every part of you ran cold as the gun met your temple, “Spencer, close your eyes.”

You continued digging at your restraints, jumping slightly when the gun clicked again. The mechanical sound of the trigger rang in your ears, echoing endlessly when you looked back at Spencer. You swallowed back an I love you, not wanting to succumb to the cliché while you met Spencer’s eyes again. A piece of you hoped the look in your eyes said everything you needed, noises came from elsewhere in the building, and you wished it was a savior.

With the revolver up at his temple, he nodded reassuringly at you, “I know.”

“Please let him go,” you begged, your voice catching over your tears. “If this is about me, you have to let him go,” you promised.

When the trigger was pulled again with no consequences, your heart dropped. The blood-pumping organ fell through your entire body, and you looked up at Spencer, unable to hide the terror in your eyes.

You shook your head as the gun was pressed against your temple, “Spencer, don’t watch.” You faced down your own death, trying to ignore the way your hands trembled as you tugged at your binds in a last-minute escape attempt. “You don’t need to see this,” you didn’t add again, but the thought crossed your mind while you thought of the necklace that sat over your heart.

“I have to see you through,” Spencer insisted, silver lining his eyes while he furiously pulled at his own restraints.

Your chest rose and fell in desperate, shaking breaths. You couldn’t do it; you couldn’t meet his eyes with a revolver pressed to your skull. You should’ve done it. You should’ve called it then, but that was how life worked. Things were already clearest when they were in the rearview window. There was nothing for you to do.

All Spencer could do was watch as he pulled the trigger, and the cycle repeated.

"History repeats itself, but in such cunning disguise that we never detect the resemblance until the damage is done." - Sydney J. Harris

[rhenuvee]

Playing Animal Crossing New Horizons with HSR Men

Warnings: ugly villager slander, established relationship (can be platonic or romantic)

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Argenti: Your fellow knight of beauty grows quite fond of the game, immediately finding the freedom of creativity in decoration endearing. He always gives you compliments on your OOTD, and takes screenshots whenever you design a new area on your island. Argenti gave himself the gardening job- spending his bells on red rose seeds. He gets proficient in following the flower guide, and is very proud of himself if he ever gets a golden rose on your island. He loves the villagers, finding them each very cute, and even beauty in the "ugly" villagers. "Did you see the villagers wearing the red rose on their head? I must say I am flattered they love it so much. Though, I am more happy that they appreciate the beauty of our island." He enjoys documenting the beautiful places in your island with photos <3

Aventurine: From the beginning he points out the fact that Tom Nook is a capitalist, which makes you roll your eyes thinking he thinks this game is silly. However, it is quite the opposite as it doesn't take him long to get out of his home loan debt and is somehow extremely lucky. It's unfair to you that he could just log in on any given day and have the best deal for turnips. However because you are his favourite he says he’s willing to buy you whatever you want, he guesses. He happens to be able to catch rare species like the Coelacanth, and it infuriates you but you really can't be if it's helping the museum. "445 bells per turnip, sounds like music to my ears~" "What's that? You want this violin? Well I guess I could spare you a few bells... is one million okay?"

Blade: Let's not kid ourselves here- it takes a lot of convincing and help from Silver Wolf to get him to even be in the presence of Animal Crossing. He says he would much rather stand and look at the wall (SW: "You already do that everyday"). Eventually he sits himself next to you, and listens to your giddy rambling about what to do in the game while he puts on a serious face not saying anything. After the preliminary tutorial/startup gameplay, he finally says, “…why is this rat harassing me for money.” However, the loans aren't the worst but the villagers chasing him down are. He purposely ignores them and grumbles when you tell him to answer ):/. He prefers to watch you play, but because he sees you smile and laugh at his sarcastic comments, he thinks it's not so bad.

Boothill: He's definitely down to try it out, but he ends up being a bit of a troll. He doesn't really mind cute/ugly villagers, until he judges them for what they say. “That’s right, (y/n) did catch all those fish.” “Did he just ask me if he could call me Muffin.” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN I GOTTA PAY ANOTHER LOAN?!!?” Yeah… he quickly feels the grindy-ness, complaining that Tom Nook was working him like a forkin’ dog. A little bit of comical rage, but he won’t lie he is enjoying it. He also asks if there are any guns and he is disappointed, so he opts for the net. He's a little rough and rowdy, but he does it in style. That being said, he 100% spends his extra bells on a cowboy outfit.

Dan Heng: He agrees instantly- aw :(. He knows you (and March) have been begging him to play. He’s is fairly good at it- gets out of the tent quickly, masters catching creatures, a nicely organized house… He’s quite resourceful too, chopping down trees and going to mystery islands to farm the heck out of it. The villagers love him, both of you often seeing them run to him with the little sparkly flowers. And even though he's normally serious, you can't help but fawn over how sweet he is with the villagers. "...She wants to call me Shmoopy, do I-" "YES." Villagers asking him to catch a fish? He's immediately on it. He remembers their names and treats them like real people :(

Dr. Ratio: "Is it educational?" Bro is such a nerd. You deadpan at him, and sass him for expecting this to be IXL or something. He is also one to get through the tutorial part easily. You expected him to be overly critical of the game, but he finds appreciation in the museum: both the creatures and the art. Is it a farfetched idea that I think he'd know how to tell the reals and fakes right off the bat? "Do you really think Da Vinci spilled coffee on his work?" At least it saves you the troubles of wasting your bells and getting a fake. I think your island would not be a mess, and would have at least a few statues (you know the ones) which add his touch to it.

Gallagher: Honestly he's happy as long as he gets a little area for himself. Kind of a wild card this one- somehow calm and chaotic at the same time, and it's puzzling because how is he doing such weird things with a straight face? Trolls the villagers quite a bit (he's lucky ACNH villagers are nice) by hitting them with a net (just once though) and giving them different catchphrases every time they ask. "Why is Bob saying 'spaghettini' at the end of his sentences?" "Um, because I thought it'd be funny? Also I'm kinda hungry so-" "Gallagher ):/" Despite the randomness, he is wholesome at times. He is also one to compliment your new outfit, and stargaze with you on the new area you decorated.

Gepard: He's busy so you weren't expecting too much from him, but he takes pride in having a well-rounded island. He gets so excited when he catches a new species that you don't have yet- what a cutie. Also goes full throttle when there's a bug-off or fishing tourney. Despite being a video game, I feel like there will be some way he messes up taking care of plants. The flowers overgrow, the turnips rot, and he doesn't understand why the trees aren't growing? But with some tips from you along with your island designing skills, your island rank moves up and he is BEAMING. "Zucker asked about you." "...he did?" "Mhm, he asked how you were doing, and said he saw you laying out pathways on the island."

Jing Yuan: He finds it so cute when you ask him to play. Lowkey like Blade where he likes watching your happy expressions when playing. He's happy that this game provides him a way to relax while not getting bored. Secretly an enjoyer of villager drama: "Wolfgang wants to apologize to Audie with this present. What happens if I don't deliver it?" "Again? Ah, just give it to her quickly." "...what if I don't." "...Jing Yuan." Oddly I feel like he'd enjoy the group stretching (what an old man), and encourages you to join. Like the "Dozing General" he is, there will be times when he's inactive and gets the bed head.

Luocha: You weren't expecting him to enjoy the game, but he's surprisingly willing to be resourceful. His storage is full of materials, which you scold him for because this is the reason for his empty undecorated house. But he always has things you need so you can't exactly complain. Also one to be pretty smart with managing bells and resources, able to maximize their worth. When the island gets visitors like Label or Flick, he has items ready. "Luocha... where did you get that coat?" "This? It's a designer piece, from Miss Label." I'd say he does have a sense of beauty in design, so thankfully your island is gorgeous.

Sampo: Sympathizes with Redd like a true scammer. "Aw look, he just needs a bit of money to get started... he even gave us a 'cousin's discount'." However, a rivalry starts with Redd when Sampo's first art piece turned out to be fake (scammer gets scammed moment). He asks if he can be the salesman that he's supposed to be. When villagers run up to him to offer bells for an item he has, he accepts thinking it'll get him a deal along the way. Unfortunately friendship gets you nowhere in terms of home loans. I'd say he's pretty good with the turnip stonks, so there's a balance. Also TRASH ISLAND. I'm sorry, but your man is a hoarder, "But what if I need this?" (Literally me.)

Welt: When you ask him to play he asks why the animals are crossing. He finds the style and characters are so cute, and he can see why you enjoy it. This is definitely a way he gets in touch with his "youthful" side. He loves the creative freedom in the game, even getting indecisive about how to design your island, and thinking of what outfit to wear. He once made a simple t-shirt for fun, but was surprised when he saw a villager wearing it. It'd be so cute and funny when he learns new emotes- and he just spams them with a straight face. Not gameplay related, but I feel like in his free time he'd draw you both in villager form <3.

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[groupiechick]

A real life story - Izzy Stradlin experience.

A while ago I came across this story from a woman named Cari who met and bedded the great Izzy Stradlin, here’s her story

Original blog post:

Warning for sex I guess but this is mainly just what he was like to meet in the golden days.

July 30, 1988

In the summer of 1988, a few friends and I took a long road trip to Val-Du-Lakes Amphitheatre in Mears, Michigan to see my new favorite band, Guns N Roses, who were the opening act for an old favorite band, Aerosmith. We arrived very early and wandered around the grounds in the sweltering heat. I walked up a hill with a friend hoping for a better vantage point to view the area where the bands' tour buses were parked behind a tall fence. At that moment a bus door opened and someone came out. The next thing I knew, Guns N Roses' guitarist Izzy Stradlin was propped up over the top of the fence pointing at me and wiggling his finger to come over. I looked all around me in disbelief but he really was pointing at me! I ran down the hill to the spot where he instructed security to let me through. We spent the afternoon talking to each other through the fence. Security wouldn't let him take me to the other side without a pass so he sent a crew guy to find one. Izzy kept running back and forth from the bus like a show and tell, displaying clothes and jewelry he'd bought on tour and telling me stories about some of the places he'd been. We had to tilt our heads slightly to see each other clearly through the fence. I was entranced by his eyes, glowing with the most magical olive and amber tones I had ever seen, as the glaring sun reflected down into them. I remember at one point he asked a road crew guy to help him rip the tag off his brand new pair of black jeans. His personality was bouncy and silly and uninhibited. We could pass things back and forth through the fence and touch each others hands but it was torture...or maybe it was like a teasing foreplay buildup...that neither of us was allowed to go to the other's side. Finally, right before he had to be on stage, one sticky pass was found and given to me.

My friends and I went out into the crowd and watched the show. It was a typical Guns N Roses live performance for that time--really bare bones, raw and raunchy sounding. This was only a short time before GnR Lies was released and they tried out a few songs none of us had heard before called "One In A Million" "Used To Love Her" & "Patience". The crowd, which was much bigger than the venue anticipated, went nuts and began tearing down a chain link fence that separated the VIP section from the GA section. It was scary. My friend Jynni and I were in a crush of people and had lost track of the friends we came there with. The agreement was for the car to be our meeting place if we lose each other. When the time came for me to go meet Izzy backstage, I was really scared. I was taking a big risk leaving my friends behind--we didn't have cell phones back then, you know!

Sure enough, Izzy was there at the fence waiting for me. As he was digging for the bus key in his pocket, he unknowingly dropped guitar picks in a trail behind him (and I tried to be sneaky and pick them up). Something about that was incredibly adorable to me. This must have been during a short sober faze because he had no drugs or alcohol and he offered me a 7up to drink on the bus. I think Aerosmith had a strict no drugs policy on that tour perhaps? He showed me more stuff he'd collected on the road and some live photos of Guns & Roses in LA. He had me pick out a photo and on the back of it he wrote "to Cari with lust...Izzy." He kept playing with my hair, piling it all up on top of my head then leaning back to look at me. Was he trying to see how I would look with an up do?? So playful and lovable, that Izzy. He told me his real name and that he grew up just a couple hours south of where I was from in Indiana. He talked about all his hats and how he wanted to buy more but hat boxes take up way too much space. He had just gotten the newly released Cinderella tape "Long Cold Winter" and put it on. We were having some serious music and philosophy talk and he said that I'm not like the other girls he meets on the road, that I actually have a brain and was really cool to talk to. He had me write my contact info in an address book for him.

At one point he started to kiss me but I was chewing gum and had yet to master the art of making out with gum in my mouth, so in a very parental way he put out his hand for me to spit it into and went to throw it away. Hello awkward moment! I couldn't have felt less sexy. Then again, what does a 17 year old really know about sexy anyway? For the sake of Mr. Stradlin's privacy, I will refrain from sharing the intimate details of our sexual encounter. I will, however, say that I was a clueless, naive little Indiana girl who had no idea what I was doing. Izzy, on the other hand, being almost 9 years older than I was, knew exactly how to do it right and I learned a thing or two. Izzy was a vision of perfection, with such smooth skin and a youthful god-like body, wide shoulders and a narrow waist. It was while he was laying back that I noticed for the first time his beautiful mouth, delicate, sweet and angelic, curled upwards slightly at the corners. Izzy and I had a lot of fun and even took a little nap as the summer heat had worn us out. We kept getting pestered by Steven Adler (whom he lovingly referred to as "Stevie"). Steven was bouncing around excitedly, pounding on the bus windows yelling that there were 14,000 people in the crowd! This must have been one of the biggest crowds they'd ever played for at that time.

It was dark by now and Izzy changed into some running pants and a jean jacket and we went outside for a walk on that perfect, magical, warm summer night with the full moon over our heads. We stopped by the hospitality tent for some pizza and there were Slash & Duff, kickin' back on a sofa having a deep conversation about drugs. Ok, now I was starstruck, and I stood there staring like a dumbass.

Duff: "You still have that shit man? What are you saving it for? If I had that *sssssnniiiiifff* it woulda been gone a long time ago!" Slash: "You can't do that much, man. You only need a little bit." I interrupted with "Slash, dude, you are so cool." (Somebody shoot me! I'm an idiot!)

Slash said "thanks" and Izzy dragged me out of there to the side stage to watch Aerosmith's encore under that amazing full summer moon. I'd never seen so many people in one place in my life--a sea of faces as far as the eye could see! Standing on the stage just a few feet from Joe Perry, I could imagine how it felt to be a rock star. Suddenly I realized in that moment that out of the 14,000 fans in that crowd, I was the only one backstage. Why me? And that's when the magic feeling came over me, showering me like fairy dust...Why not me?! I was different. I wasn't like anyone I knew, not family nor friends--no one I knew saw the world the way I did. I realized that for the first time, I was amongst my peers there backstage. And if I had the privilege of spending a day with the hottest band in the country at age 17, someday I would be doing a lot of other cool things all the while making my own dreams come true too!

Izzy asked me to ride on the bus with them to Cincinnati, but in the days before cell phones, I had no way to reach my parents back home nor my friends who were waiting in the massive parking lot to make the 3 hour drive home with me. What if I ditched everyone only to have the band's management say "no way, this groupie is not riding the bus with us!" and then I'd be stranded in a field in the middle of nowhere. What if I ditched everyone and they thought I got abducted and called the police? The deep shit I would have been in from every angle. I was helpless. He begged a security officer that was on a horse to escort me to the car--maybe I could tell my friends and then go back to meet him--but the "mountie" was a jerk and he refused to help us. I had no choice but to say goodbye and that's my biggest regret to this day. I'll always wonder about all the "what ifs".

The phone woke me up the next morning and it was Izzy. It sounded as if he were whispering. He said, "Listen...." I heard him press the play button on a tape player and then heard a clip of "Over The Hills and Far Away" by Led Zeppelin, a band we'd talked much about the night before. Then he clicked the tape off and said, "Bye...." and I never heard from him again.

That one magical summer night is what led me down the path to becoming the independent, confident, dream chasing woman with rose-colored, heart-shaped glasses that I am today. I'd like to thank Izzy for making me feel so special...he might not remember me but I'll never forget him and how for one day I was "one in a million".

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hii! Can I please request a Bucky x fem!civilian!reader when Bucky was the Winter Soldier, Y/n (like Yori’s son) was in the wrong place, wrong time and accidentally witnessed the winter soldier assassinating someone and he went to off her too but his gun jammed so she ran and got away while he was distracted. Years later, now TFAWS time, Bucky saves her (with Sam) from the Flag Smashers (poor girl was in the wrong place at the wrong time AGAIN) as she accidentally walked into where they kept a bunch of super serum or walked into a meeting of theirs or something. She’s injured so him and Sam bring her back with them to Zemo’s fancy home to treat her injuries. When she wakes up though, her and Bucky recognize each other as soon as they make eye contact and she freaks out like, “YOU tried to KILL me!!!!” and (shout out to Tangled) she grabs a pan and hits him with it and he’s trying to talk her down and apologize as Zemo just watches it all happen (you know he’s amused) and Sam walks in and is like “What is happening????” The Flag Smashers have a target on her so she has to stay with Bucky and Sam. She’s wary of Bucky for a while but the more time she spends with him, she starts feeling safe. After a while of staying with them, Y/n would hear Bucky crying/having a nightmare in the room he’s sleeping and find him sleeping on the floor, having a nightmare and she’d comfort him🥺 He’d wake up and be surprised to see her and tell her about his nightmare (he may even have been having one about almost killing her, he’d sob out “I almost killed you”) and she’s just like, “Oh Bucky🥺” and hug him (and he’d hug her back), and when he’s calm she’d pull back and just notice how beautiful of a man he is and how sweet and gentle he is (also she can’t deny he looks gorgeous 👕less) and she’d realize her feelings for him and can’t help but kiss him on his pretty lips🥹🥰

Y/n would blurt out “I love you” shortly before kissing Bucky and he’d be in denial and disbelief until she kisses him and she gets all cutely shy about it and he’d tell her he loves her too and pull her back in to kiss her back 🥹 Bucky probably had been in love with her for a while, even when she was still coming around to him. Sam would notice how lovey dovey Bucky & Y/n would be the next morning lol

Forgive and Forget » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Winter Soldier x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader with Sam Wilson/Falcon/Captain America

Summary: Bucky tried to kill you years ago when he was the Winter Soldier and you’re willing to forgive and forget about it.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, guns, mentions of HYDRA, blood, crying, kissing, nightmares, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the lovely request @kpopgirlbtssvt

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckyys-babydoll / divider made by me

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Gif credits go to the creators.

You heard noises down the hall from you. You didn’t think much of it. When you got closer you seen bodies on the floor and blood. You yelped and jumped at the sound of a gun going off. Your eyes widened in horror as you watched a body fall to the floor. That’s when you seen the culprit. Your mind was telling you to run and get the hell out of there, but you stood there frozen in place. Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach when the man raised his metal arm, aiming his gun at you. You rose your hands in surrender.

“I-I-I didn’t see anything! I won’t tell anyone! I promise! Please don’t kill me!” You pleaded, tears streaming down your face.

“No witnesses.” The Winter Soldier says from behind his mask.

This is it. This is how you’re going to die. You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing yourself to get shot, but nothing happened. Instead of a bullet coming out of the gun, it jammed. You opened your eyes to see the Winter Soldier trying to figure out what’s wrong with his gun. You took that opportunity to run as fast as your legs would let you and hid in a random closet. You covered your mouth with your hand to keep yourself quiet. He looked up to see that you gone. He didn’t bother looking for you. He just reported back to the HYDRA base and told them that the mission was successful.

———

Years later, that day still haunts you. Sometimes you get little to no sleep because of the nightmares. You’re glad that you were able to get away from the Winter Soldier, but you wish the nightmares would go away too.

Some days you have good days and some days you have bad days. Today was a good day for you. Or so you thought. You should’ve known better to walk in a different direction when you heard people fighting. At least that’s what it sounded like to you. You tried to speed walk through what looks like an abandoned factory to avoid the altercation that was happening, but someone bumped into you, knocking you to the ground. You stared up at the person. As you were about to stand up, you seen a gun and small vitals filled with something that looks questionable in the person’s hand.

Uh oh. Not again.

You scrambled to stand up and run. You didn’t get far, because that person shot you, shooting you in your side. You cried out in pain and fell to the ground. You put your hand on your side, feeling blood seeping out of the gunshot wound.

“Help!” You said as loud as you could. “Help me!” You said loudly again.

Bucky stopped what he was doing when he heard your voice.

“Did you hear that?” Bucky asks Sam.

“Yea.” Sam replies.

Bucky and Sam followed the sound of your voice. You weren’t too far from where they were. They seen you on the ground with blood on your side. They immediately ran over to you.

“Ma’am, can you hear me?” Bucky asks.

You thought you recognized Bucky’s voice, but at the same time, you thought you were hallucinating due to the blood loss. Bucky lifted the bloody part of your shirt just enough to see where you were shot.

“I don’t want to die.” You mumbled.

“You’re not going to die. Me and my friend are going to help you, ok?” He says.

You passed out from the blood loss before you could respond. Bucky picked you up bridal style, being careful to not accidentally bump your wound.

Bucky and Sam took you to Zemo’s place. You were passed out on the couch while Bucky did his best to patch you up.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Sam asks as he watches Bucky patch you up.

“Yes. I did this to myself many times over the years.” Bucky says.

Bucky carefully managed to get the bullet out of you with a pair of tweezers and then patched you up.

“Now all we have to do is wait for her to wake up.” Bucky says.

“If she’s still alive.” Zemo says.

Bucky ignored what Zemo said. Hours go by when you finally wake up. You winced in pain you sat up. You stood up from the couch, wincing in pain again. You noticed that you were in clean clothes. You also felt bandages on your side. You lifted your shirt just enough to see that someone patched you up while you were passed out. You walked around the house you were in, wondering how you got there and wondering who’s house you’re in. You walked in the kitchen, still looking around.

“We were wondering when you were going to wake up.” Bucky says.

There it is again. That familiar voice. You turned around to see the Winter Soldier standing in the entryway of the kitchen. He has a different arm and short hair, but you still recognized him.

“Stay the hell away from me!” You shouted.

“Ma’am, I’m not going to hurt you.” He assures you as he approaches you.

“That’s not what you said years ago!” You say.

Bucky frowns when you said that. It didn’t take him long to realize that you were referring to him as the Winter Soldier.

“Oh… ma’am, if you let me explain-” You cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

“YOU tried to KILL me!” You shouted.

Bucky holds his hands up in surrender when you grabbed a frying pan. Zemo walked in the kitchen to see what was going on and then sat down at the table to watch the altercation between you and Bucky go down with the look of amusement on his face. Bucky slowly walks around the kitchen counter towards you.

“Don’t come any closer!” You say.

Bucky continues to approach you. He shielded himself with his vibranium arm when you hit him with the pan, hitting his vibranium arm. Sam was on the phone in another room when he heard metal colliding with metal. He ended the call and ran into the kitchen, seeing Bucky taking a frying pan out of your hands and putting it on a high shelf so you couldn’t reach it.

“What is happening?!” Sam asks.

“He tried to kill me!” You exclaimed, pointing at Bucky.

“Years ago.” Bucky adds so Sam didn’t get the wrong idea.

“The plot thickens.” Zemo says, eating a Turkish delight.

You wanted to run away from Bucky to get away from him before he tried to kill you again, but the pain in your side got the best of you. You held onto your side where the gunshot wound is and doubled over. Bucky picked you up bridal style and carried you back to the living room and gently laid you down on the couch. Sam got you a glass of water and aspirin to help you the pain.

“If you let me, I’d like to explain and apologize for our last interaction.” Bucky says.

You were in too much pain to argue with him or fight him in anyway. You gave him a nod, allowing him to explain and apologize.

“That wasn’t me who tried to kill you years ago.” Bucky begins.

“Yes it was!” You said.

“It wasn’t.” He says once more. “It was the Winter Soldier.” He says.

“Who or what the hell is the Winter Soldier?” You asked confused.

“Me.” He tells you. “I- he was given a mission to “take out” some people that day. You weren’t supposed to be there.” He explains.

“What about that innocent man who he killed?” You asked.

“Just like you, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He says.

“Thanks to you, that day haunts me and I have nightmares about it.” You say.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “If it means anything, I’m glad you were able to get away.” He says sincerely.

“I appreciate the explanation and apology, but I’m not ready to forgive someone who tried to kill me.” You say.

“I understand. Take all the time you need.” He says softly.

Even though you weren’t ready to forgive Bucky for trying to killing you years ago, you were curious about one thing.

“What’s your name?” You asked curiously.

“My name is James, but everyone I know calls me Bucky.” Bucky tells you. “Is it ok if I ask you what your name is?” He asks.

“My name is Y/N.” You tell him. “What’s your name?” You asked Sam.

“I’m Sam.” He tells you.

You gave him a smile and a nod.

“Is it ok if we ask you some questions?” Sam asks.

“Sure.” You replied.

“What’s your connection to the Flag Smashers?” He asks.

“Who?” You asked confused.

“The Flag Smashers.” He says.

“I don’t know who they are.” You honestly say. “Why?” You asked.

“For some reason, they have a target on you.” He says.

“Oh.” You muttered softly, looking down.

Bucky put a comforting hand on your arm. You looked up at him. This time, you didn’t get scared of him.

“We’re not going to let them hurt you again. We’re going to do everything we can to protect you, ok?” Bucky says softly.

“Ok.” You say softly.

———

Weeks go by since Bucky apologized to you for trying to killing you as the Winter Soldier years ago. Even though you’re wary of him, you’re slowly beginning to forgive him. Ever since the day Bucky promised that him and Sam would protect you from the Flag Smashers, you’ve been staying with them. They make you feel safe too.

You woke up to someone talking in their sleep. Your curiosity got the best of you and you got out of bed to see what was going on. The voice sounds like Bucky’s and it sounded like he was in the living room. You walked to the living room to see him sleeping on the floor, tossing and turning in his sleep. You sat down on the floor next to him to comfort him.

“Bucky.” You gently shook him. “Bucky, you’re dreaming.” You whispered, shaking him a bit harder.

Bucky gasps as he wakes up. He scrambled to sit up. He was breathing heavily and covered in a sheen of sweat. To help him feel better, you went to the kitchen to get him something to drink and went back to the living room to give it to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked softly.

“I almost killed you.” Is all Bucky says.

That was enough to tell you that he had a nightmare about the day he- the Winter Soldier almost killed you.

“Oh, Bucky…” You whispered.

You gave him a hug. Bucky hugged you back and broke down in tears.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes.

“I know you are.” You whispered, rubbing his back to comfort him. “I forgive you.” You whispered again.

“You do?” Bucky asks against your shoulder.

“Yes.” You replied softly. “I’m willing to forgive you and forget about it.” You say.

After a couple minutes, Bucky calms down and stops crying. He pulls away from the hug and wipes his tears away with his hands.

You couldn’t help but admire how handsome Bucky is, especially when he’s shirtless. You shamelessly stared at his muscles and abs. Then there’s his lips… so soft, pretty, and kissable. It didn’t take you long to come to the realization that you’re starting to have feelings for the man who almost killed you years ago.

“I love you!” You blurted out.

Bucky stared at you in surprise. He didn’t think you’d be in love with him even after he tried to kill you years ago. Before he could say anything, you kissed him, catching him by surprise. His eyes went wide, but he kissed you back. You pulled away after a few seconds, feeling yourself becoming shy. You opened your mouth to say something, but Bucky kissed you before you could.

“I love you too.” Bucky says against your lips. “I’ve been in love with you for a while.” He admits.

“You have?” You asked.

“Yes.” He replies softly.

You two kissed once more before Bucky stood up and picked you up bridal style, carrying you to the bedroom. He laid down beside you and covered the two of you up with a blanket. He protectively wrapped his arms around you and you two fell back to sleep.

The next morning, you and Bucky were all lovey dovey. You two held hands. Bucky would have his arm around your waist or shoulders. You two gave each other all kinds of kisses. Lips, forehead, cheeks, tip of the nose. You name it. Sam was picking up on it.

“What’s going on between you two?” Sam curiously asks.

“Bucky and I are in love.” You say happily, smiling up at Bucky.

“I thought you weren’t ready to forgive him for what he almost did to you?” Sam says.

“I told him that I’m willing to forgive him and forget about it. Also, I’ve been in love with him for a while and he feels the same way about me.” You tell him.

“That’s nice.” Sam smiles.

Bucky dips his head down to kiss you softly.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky says softly.

“I love you too, Bucky Bear.” You almost whispered.

If Bucky is being honest, being with you is the happiest he’s been in years. You can say the same thing about being with Bucky.

-Bucky’s Doll

[taylormarieee]

~A hunter's first love~

A dean winchester drabble

Summary: You were dean's first love, yeah I know it's hard to believe with every girl he's been with but you... you were different from the rest, here's you guy's story...

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: dean winchester x hunter!reader

Warnings: kissing, mentions of death, mentions of blood, typical supernatural stuff, dean confessing, angst, a argument, dean being a bit of a jerk, a lil actual smut, piv sex, dean himself, trauma dumping, also reader isn't a hunter in the beginning but closer to the end she is.

A/N: I've been meaning to post this one for awhile but it's just been an idea in the back of my head. I NEED to write for dean more, and I swear I will, my word is my bond guys even tho sometimes i don't commit, ntm on me tho, love y'all and enjoy!

You were dean's very first love. Yea he had that chick in highschool but there were always chicks digging him in high school.

didn't mean he loved them. dean never did meeting parents and saying I love you. he was a cold kid that broke everything.

distanced himself from the people who needed him most. the exceptions were sammy and you.

something about you was special, something about you made dean's heart ache. it made him feel things that he usually would never feel.

he met you when sammy had went off to college to do his own thing. he was proud of sammy but he felt alone. yes of course he had his dad but there were nights where dad would always be gone and dean was left to handle himself.

but that was before you. during you, when he met you in the bar for the very first time, you looked like you were having a hellish day.

"bad day?" he asks as he slides into the barstool, drink in hand. you chuckle and look at him. your eyes widen a bit at how attractive he is.

"y-yea, s-something like that." you stutter as you take another sip of your brandy. after that you both kinda just hit it off.

laughing and having deep genuine conversations. he told you his name and you told him yours. he even offered you a ride back home to which you gladly accepted.

"thank you for the ride dean, I really appreciate it." you thank him and then get ready to walk up the stairs to your apartment but you pause.

"would you like to come inside? I just feel bad for making you take me home and then not offering you anything to sober you up a little. just come inside, please?" you ask.

he smiles and nods. "yea yea sure, i'd love to come inside." he says with a smirk on his face when he stands next to you.

"must you ruin the moment?" you hit him playfully as you chuckle.

"hell yea!" he exclaims with a chuckle as well. you unlock the door to your apartment and step inside. it's not the best but it's enough for you and it was simple and modern and you loved it.

dean seemed to have loved it too, to him though, it was very old-schooled. very 90's. you had these cute posters and paintings on walls. little records piled up on the coffee table.

it was adorable. it was very you. you had an electric guitar on a stand next to your tv in the living room and you had all your favorite rock band cd's splayed everywhere on the couch.

"just gimme a sec, I didn't exactly expect company." you say shyly.

"oh no, your totally fine. I dig it. AC/DC? I love it." he says pointing at the band poster framed up on your wall.

"oh that's old, my dad gave it to me, I basically grew up listening to many rock bands. guns n roses, AC/DC, Metallica, yk the goodies." you smile up at dean.

"that poster was actually signed by the entire band when my dad got a backstage pass. He was so happy til the day he died." you say staring at the poster with a smile on your face.

"guessing he got the best day mug when you were a kid huh?" he says with a smile.

you laugh and shake your head. "yea actually, I did get him one for his birthday one year, he had the proudest smile ever when he saw Axl Rose's signature on it." you smile.

"wow, you were the best daughter." he exclaims.

"I mean I tried to be. my mom split when I was eight and that took a huge chunk outta my dad's heart. so I slowly had to rebuild it back again. I missed seeing him happy. It was just me n him, no point in trying to make life harder than it already was." you explain.

"Yea I get that. your better than me. see when I was little me, my mom, my dad? we were the happiest family. and then when my baby brother was born, I was so happy! but uhm a few months after he was born my uh my mom died. then it was just me my dad and sammy." he explains.

"that was hard for all of us. even harder for sammy considering he never even got to talk to his mother. my dad was hard on me and sammy growing up. I of course was always the lash out kid, constantly angry, never liking how he acted or did stuff. then of course that anger when out to sam because I couldn't yell at my dad, I was 10." he continues.

you hum to let him know your still listening and you grab him some water and prop it on the coffee table in front of you two.

"thanks. but yea, sammy never really understood why we always moved, never stayed in one place too long until he got tired of it. tired of that lifestyle. now he's in college and he's thriving, my dad on the other hand, he's avoiding me any chance he gets but hey, I would avoid me too if I was him. I break everything I touch." he finishes, taking a long gulp of his water.

you both sit in silence for a second and dean looks at you, hoping you say something other than "get out of my house."

"oh dean, I'm so sorry. no child should ever have to go through that. and I can assure you dean, you don't break everything you touch, I'm here and see! I'm not broken, i'm standing ten toes behind you." you says with a smile.

"I hunt monsters for a living with my dad. and we kill them so they can't ahrm people anymore." he blurted out randomly. he wanted to push you away, because he was falling in love with you too quickly. he wanted you to see him as scary.

your eyes widen. you pause. your hand is still on his arm and his thigh. you blink once, then twice. your jaw opens to say something but closes again.

"speak now, scream now, curse me out or forever hold your peace and i'll leave." he says.

you immediately spoke not wanting him to leave. "don't leave. I'm just a little shocked is all. do you and your dad really do that? does your brother know?" you ask.

"Why do you think he went off to college, to live a normal life like the rest of you." dean says.

"wow. uhm that's a lot to take in. thank you for telling me. there are parts of me that don't believe you, but i'm going to trust my heart. I believe you dean. you're a hero."

"I'm not a hero, i'm a monster." he says.

"you save people dean, how is that you being a monster." you counter.

"because it's almost like i enjoy it, the thrill."

"ok but heros i'm sure enjoy the thrill as well."

"That's not the same thing sweetheart I-"

"Why can't you just accept that your not a monster."

"because I lived with this my whole life ok? I am a monster."

"ok, but you help people, how do monsters do that? how is that YOU being a monster?"

"Because I just am!" he shouts at you. you gasp and scoot away from him.

"oh, i'm sorry. I won't bring it up."

"for fuck's sake, I'm sorry sweetheart. I-I didn't mean to shout at you, i'm sorry. c'mere." he says.

you scoot back to him and he wraps your body in a hug.

"what are you so scared of dean? If your brother can live a normal life, why can't you? why do you think you don't deserve a happy ending?" you ask.

you look up at him with puppy dog eyes and he folds immediately. he kisses the top of your head and smiles down at you.

"you really think I'm a good person? you truly believe I could have a happy ending?'" he asks.

"If I didn't think so, would I have bickered with you about it like a toddler?" you ask with a chuckle.

he laughs.

"I guess not."

you both stare at each other for a good 2 minutes before you look down at his lips. he looks at you and stares at your lips as well.

you lean up closer to his face, your noses touching. he closes his eyes, waiting for it to happen. he of course wasn't prepared for his mind's decision to pull away.

"I have to go sweetheart. I'm sorry." he says as he pulls away from you. he can't bare to look at you as he stands up from the couch but he does it anyway and his heart sinks.

your pouting. god why must you look so good when you pout. "oh, please stay dean, I don't want to be alone. and I don't think you do either." you say standing up and grabbing his hand.

"just spend the night, and then in the morning you can leave, just don't leave without saying goodbye." you say pointing a finger at him.

"ok sweetheart, I won't." he says with a smile. "good." you respond with a smile as well.

"now, I have one more gift for you." you say with a smirk on your face.

"Oh really, what is it? it better be pie." he says with a chuckle. you roll your eyes playfully as you pull him towards you bedroom.

"i mean it'll be some kind of pie if you want it to be? but it's also much better than pie." you say seductively.

"mhmmm" he groans, "I like the sound of where this is going.

he runs his hands down your waist as you drag him towards you bed. you shrug off his jacket and he grabs your ass once his jacket is on the floor and goes straight for your jeans buttons.

"please kiss me already dean, I need you." you beg.

his lips are smashed on to yours immediately after your request. guess dean couldn't wait any longer either.

you tug at his shirt and he pulls it off. you take your shirt off as well and that's when dean pushes you on to the bed. you grab at his road shoulders and scratch at his back.

he nips at your neck leaving little sweet kisses after. you were so having hickeys afterwards.

he smashes his lips against yours again and you bite his lip. he groans at the feeling and you release his lip but he can taste the blood on his lip.

he licks his lips and looks at you. "you tryin to devour me huh?" he asks with a smirk.

"Maybe?" you ask with mimicking smirk on your face. he kisses you again and you moan in his mouth. god he lives for your noises.

"do that again." he demands. he kisses down your neck looking for that spot that makes you reel. you moan in his ear again and he physically fights the urge not to shove his fingers in you ight now.

his cock painfully aching in his boxers. you both roll around and moan in each others ears. you tug on his hair and he tugs on yours.

he inhales your scent and he feels like he's on cloud 9.

you were amazing. even more amazing when he first entered inside you. god you were so fucking tight. so delicious. so enticing.

you were pulling him in and he was hitting all the right spots to make you scream his name like a mantra, like a prayer.

you loved the feeling of his fat cock inside you. it made you feel euphoric. no one has ever made you feel this way, dean hit every spot. he made you cry and scream and feel so good.

you needed him. you desired every bit of him. he's the man you daydream about, the one you read tumblr fics about.

you feel your orgasm approaching and dean feels his but he solely his focused on making you feel good. sadly that doesn't work because he's struggling to not cum inside you.

"it's ngh- ok dean. please cum inside me, I want it so bad. please." you beg him and he loses it. he kisses you one last time before he releases inside you, still thrusting and over stimulating himself just to make you feel good.

you eventually cum around his cock as well, feeling so good. you arch into him and tug on his hair really hard he groans. he moans into your ear as he lets out the last spurts of his cum into your stoamch.

he rearranged your guts like no other before and you loved how it made you feel dean winchester makes you feel alive. he makes you feel like yourself.

dean pulls out of you and lays right behind you. you cuddle into him throwing your leg over his to tangle up in his warmth.

he smiles to himself and you kiss him again as you both fall asleep. dean couldn't stop thinking about you. and you couldn't stop thinking about him.

he's your saviour. your hero. your perfect man. your first love.

your his daydream. his fantasy. his perfect girl. his first love.

It's been a year now and you and dean are thriving. he calls you every day and every night when he's on a hunt.

you even got to meet his brother. you comforted him when his dad died and you even let them stay at your place whenever they were in town.

two years go by and you and dean are on a little break. he said that he didn't feel like he could give you what you wanted and asked if he could take a break from the relationship to give him some time to think.

you didn't know he slept with an old fling and it broke your heart when sam told you.

you went on hunting alone. you met bobby on a hunt and he treated you well. he made sure you were safe.

four years go by and you meet dean again, you never blocked him and he called from time to time. sometimes you'd answer other times, you'd not even give him the time of day.

you looked at dean and realized he hasn't aged a day, if anything he looked more mature, he looked just as good as the last time you saw him.

his voice deeper and still demanding. you hug him and he tells you how much he's missed you. you missed him just as much.

he told you he was sorry and you forgave him. you forgave him a long time ago. he offered to try again and you agreed.

the three of you went hunting together like a family and it was fun. but one night you decided to play hero.

"dean, I once told you you deserved a happy ending, that you weren't a monster." you say quickly while panting.

"yea babe, but why? why are you saying this?" he asked his glossy eyes staring back at you.

"you know I love you right?" you tell him.

"I love you too sweetheart, now tell me what's wrong?!" he shouts.

you hear the footsteps of the vampire and you look at sam and dean.

"babe, it's my turn to be a hero ok? you go on without me. you live your life and you find your happy ending. I love you both so much." you say holding the both of their hands.

"Now run." you say.

you shoot at the vampire and it rushes towards you choking you. you try to fight it off but it stabs you in the stomach and you scream out.

Sam runs to rescue you and dean screams for you. the vampire throws you off to the side and bloods seeping out of your mouth and wound. dean runs to your limp body on the floor and he cradles you in his arms.

sam quickly runs back over the vampires body on the ground with a wooden stake in it's heart and it's head cut off.

you try to speak but dean shushes you.

"no no baby don't speak i'm gonna get you help ok, y-your- fuck your gonna live ok. SON OF A BITCH! baby please don't die on me, I love you please please please." he cries.

"i-i love you too, my sweet hero." your last words before your eyes shut and your no longer moving.

he says your name and sam checks for a pulse. he looks at dean and shakes his head no. dean shakes you and screams your name some more but no response.

he sits there and cries with sam by his side crying as well.

you were dean's daydream. his fantasy. his perfect girl. his first love and the last one he ever loved. the one he couldn't save.

Taglist: @dollyfl1rt @itzdarling @sammyluvr @liliesdiary @ribbonprincess @bellahadidnt16 @iilovefictionalpeople @aerangi @keiva1000 @madafton @niktwazny303 @prettyluhdavis @kqmbr1a @nuemanfilms + anyone else who wants to join

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Hai^^ I love your stories so much and I was wondering if you could make one about 80s slash x reader? And how the reader’s parents and slash’s mom were friends and forced them to meet each other?

When the reader sees slash - she kinda into him and the more she stares at him the more attractive gets and slash is a bit older than her and finds her funny and weird as he notices that she’s been staring at him the whole time during dinner.

It isn’t until they’re left alone that they start talking to each other and slash makes playful gestures and teases towards her? With smut and fluff of course :P

I hope that’s not a lot^^ anyways whenever you get the time^^

A/n: I wrote this in class and barely finished so the end is kind of shit

Warnings: smut, arranged marriage trope(ish), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

I think I’ve used this before but no I didn’t bc I said so

Ever since you were young, around twelve, there was always this pressure to be with someone, relatives coming by and asking where your boyfriend was. It was annoying and you couldn’t get away from it.

Your parents only got worse as you got older, inviting friends over with suitors. Annoying old men shoving money and power in your face, none of it was ever for you they just wanted to show you what they had. They didn’t care about you.

This dinner was just like any other, you had to get all dressed up to meet some guy your parents knew. He’d be old, creepy and wasting away, just wanting someone to bed whenever he wanted, someone to beat, who he could show around town as he pleased.

You were in your room, getting ready as per usual. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, pristine and proper, white floral dress and golden makeup. Just once you wanted to do something bigger, something harsher.

The doorbell rang and you were called down to meet the guests. You say yourself at the table, ready to meet the next suitor to leave.

A woman walked through, she was gorgeous and had a beautiful smile, behind her came a man with bigger hair than his mother. He shared those big, dark eyes, full lips, but he didn’t smile. He wasn’t dressed up all fancy, he wore jeans and a leather jacket over a Ramones shirt that was torn up and well loved, to say the least.

You weren’t allowed to listen to the Ramones, devils music you were told. This man was the devil incarnate and you were certain he’d be the one to take you away.

Your mother sat down next to you and placed a hand on your knee, leaning into you. “Don’t you dare go looking at this one all puppy eyed, I gave you good men you will not be falling for this monstrosity.” She said through gritted teeth, but her warning was moot, you’d already made up your mind.

The dinner went as every other did, your mother would ask questions and listen closely to the answers, except she didn’t. She didn’t care what this man, Saul was his name, had to say.

You sat idly by and ate, gaze flickering over to him all too frequently, he was sure to notice but he didn’t bring it up or look back at you.

His voice didn’t match his appearance. He was soft spoken and only spoke when told to, he rarely looked up from his plate and when he did he didn’t make eye contact.

Saul Hudson to be wed, you could see it in the papers now.

“I play guitar in a band.” He said, it broke through your day dreaming haze.

“You-you play..?” Your mother sputtered out, unable to even finish her sentence.

Saul nodded, a wide grin on his face and he looked up at you, still not making eye contact. His gaze flicked from your lips down to your shoulders, you didn’t dare guess where else he was looking. “Big band, Guns N’ Roses.” He clarified. “Playing stadiums now.” His mother smiled proudly over at him.

You wiped your mouth on a napkin and stood, quietly excusing yourself from the table. The food was gone and what was left needed to be packed away now anyway, you were just leaving it for other people.

You went to your room and sat down at your desk once more, staring at yourself in the mirror. Something new filled you, you wanted his attention, all of it. You wanted to run with him, to venture with him. He’d take you all over with his band and he’d love you. He was gentle and he wouldn’t hurt you, he wouldn’t flaunt his money, only buy you jewelry for your birthday and flowers when he loved you, just because.

You dug through your drawers and tried to find something… big, a statement piece for your face. Your attention snapped to the door as it opened and Saul walked in.

He was hesitant at first, staring at you bent over a desk drawer and digging through it like a mad man. He came over and stood just beside you, placing a hand on your lower back as he looked through the drawers for you.

Saul pulled out a deep red lipstick. He brought a finger under your chin and tilted your head for him to see you properly.

You were struck, in your core a pulse came with a heat, a desire, but you snapped out of it quick enough to wipe the gloss you already had off your lips so he’d have a bare canvas to work with.

He smiled down at you and got to work, using the tip yo outline your lips before filling them in.

You looked back at yourself in the mirror, Saul now stood behind you with his hands on your hips. He didn’t look in the mirror, he stared at you in front of him, the side of your face and how pleased you seemed with his work.

You turned back to him. “Do more.” You asked, drawing a chuckle from him and he shook his head, by god you made him laugh and you wanted to hear it again and again for as long as you lived.

“I don’t know anymore.” He said, bringing his hands to your shoulders and turning you around again. He leaned down to you, his lips caressing the shell of your ear. “You do it, you can’t mess up when it’s just gonna be running down your face in a minute anyway.”

You paused a moment and looked back to him. “Why? Will you make me cry?” He nodded confidently, you looked back to the mirror. “Why would you do that? Will you leave?” You asked curiously.

“More than one way to make someone cry.” He said, rubbing your shoulders. He inhaled deeply, taking in your saddened expression, you clearly didn’t get what he was referring to. He’d just have to show you once you looked the part, well enough the part anyway, you didn’t have the clothes.

“Heavier on the eyes.” He said as you tapped on a bright red, something to connect the lipstick while still being different. You picked up your pencil liner but he took it from you and had you turn towards him. “Gimme a second.” He said with a smile, being careful to not poke you in the eye as he worked.

He was giggling when he turned you back to the mirror. You had a leopard print on your eyelids and whiskers on your cheeks. The print on your eyes was pretty, neat and well done, the whiskers were an afterthought he was enjoying much too much.

You stood up and turned to him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “It’s perfect!” You exclaimed, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, he couldn’t say no to that.

He wasn’t a gentleman, not by a long shot, he was just sweet. The first chance he got his hands were on your ass, pulling your dress up over your head and not caring if he smudged it, not one bit.

Your arms went around his neck and he lifted you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist while he carried you to your bed and laid you down.

He was laying over you, an arm holding him up by your head, his other hand moved down between your legs, rubbing through your folds and catching your clit, feeling how wet you already were for him.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” He asked, already starting to trail kisses up your jaw towards your ear. You hesitated before slowly shook your head, hoping it wouldn’t make him stop. Luckily he didn’t and just sucked his teeth. “Well, I don’t feel like slowing down for you.” He said sitting back up and undo his jeans, pushing them down just enough for his dick to spring free, of course he didn’t wear boxers. “Just tell me if it hurts.” He said as he pushed into you, groaning as he did.

Despite his words he did give you a minute to adjust to him, running his hands up and down yours sides until he felt you were ready and he started moving, slow at first but he couldn’t keep that pace for long.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, tugging you closer to him as his hips slammed into yours, each thrust bringing you closer to an edge you’d never seen before.

He was perfect above you, full lips, bruised just like yours, parted ever so slightly in soft, low grunts and groans. Sweat clung to his curls just around his face, the rest of his mane framing his sharp jaw. His teeth were crooked and he didn’t look right at you, focusing on feeling good, making you feel good.

You didn’t have anything to compare it to, but this was definitely the best you’d ever felt. Free, and it felt so good. You reached down and found your clit, rubbing it in circles.

Saul chuckled over you and nodded in approval. “Just keep doing that, keep doing that.” He said. You could feel him inside you, veins dragging against your gummy walls, cunt pulling him in for more, every time he pulled away you sucked him back in.

You melted into the mattress, vision going white and when you came doing from it you felt something warm spilling out inside you, Saul’s face tucked into you and he kissed over your chest, latching onto your nipple and swirling his tongue around it.

Finally he pulled away and pulled away and sat up, fixing his pants before heading out to your balcony. You saw he was smoking, he just looked so… you couldn’t even describe it.

You got your dress back on and went out to stand with him.

He smiled at you when you came out, he held the cigarette out for you but took it away before you got the chance to get it. “No way in hell am I letting you do that.” He said with a laugh.

You sighed and leaned your head on his shoulder. He glanced down at you as he took a drag from his cigarette. “It’s pretty tonight.” You said.

He nodded, looking out on the cities lights below. Your house was up on a mountain, giving you a good view all around. “I bet it’s a pretty night for you every night.”

You smirked up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you live here, you see it every night.” That’s not what you were expecting.

You looked back out to the city. “I want to see more… with you, Saul.”

He let out a heavy sigh, he wanted you with him too. You were intriguing to him, you needed a chance to rebel and he knew you would never stay with him, not after growing up like this, but he could be the one with you to see the world and that was enough. “Slash.” He said. “If you’re coming with me you call me Slash.”

“Slash.” You repeated. “Slash Hudson.” He might regret this, but he didn’t care. In that moment, he didn’t care about anything.

[sweetromanova]

Off The Record: Part Seven🖤

Natasha Romanoff x Criminal Defense Lawyer!Original Female Character

Summary: She’s built a career on keeping secrets and defending the worst with nothing to lose. That changed when Natasha Romanoff showed up on the other side of the courtroom.

Warnings: descriptions of violence, psychological manipulation, implied child abuse and trauma, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, human and sex trafficking, war crimes and murder, implied coercion, legal corruption, gun violence, secondary character deaths, power imbalance, blood and injury depiction

A/N: not the happiest with this editing but we move, pay attention to the warnings for this one!

Chapter Seven

Abandoned Warehouse, New York

April 3, 2022

The sack was pulled off.

Sienna blinked hard against the low fluorescent glare, pain blooming hot and sudden at her temple. The floor beneath her was concrete, cold, dusty, reeking of oil and metal. Somewhere nearby, a pipe dripped like a broken clock counting down.

Then she heard it.

“Blake.”

That voice. Honeyed and sharp.

Luka.

She turned her head slowly. Same lean build and that same hawk’s gaze. But something was off, he looked scrubbed clean, surgically calm. Like he’d sterilised every part of himself that used to feel.

He crouched beside her. “Had to pull you off the chessboard for a bit.” He said. “You’ve been making… creative moves.”

“Don’t pretend this is a check-in.” She rasped. Her throat felt raw. “You dragged me off the street. Lost my number?”

“You were wandering.” Luka reached out, brushed a strand of hair from her face like a parent soothing a child. “I needed to reorient you.”

“Bullshit. You needed control.”

His smile widened, just slightly. Something darker flickered beneath. “You always say that when I remind you who you are, where you’re from.”

Sienna pushed herself upright, hands sliding against the grit as she rose on unsteady legs. “I’m not yours, Luka. We might be family but I’m not your weapon. Not your project. You lost that right years ago.”

He took a step closer. Deliberate. Patient. His voice stayed soft, but every word landed with edge. “You forget how many times I saved you. If anyone found out who you really are... they’d tear you apart. You still work for me remember that.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t save people. You break them before anyone else can.”

A twitch at his jaw, barely there but real. The only crack in the mask.

“We were good together once.” He reminisced. “You were sharper then, more focused.”

“I was twelve.” She shot back. “Orphaned and clinging to my ‘big brother’ like he was the only thing keeping me from drowning.”

He didn’t reply.

So she pressed. “You trained me, no, you groomed me. Wrapped it in loyalty and called it love.”

“It was love.” He murmured. Sienna didn’t miss the ‘was’.

“No.” Her voice cut like glass. “It was a cult. A cult of violence and fear. I stayed because I didn’t know better, because I thought I was honouring my parents.”

Luka exhaled hard, turned his back briefly. His composure faltered, just for a moment.

“You’ve been slipping.” He repeated. “Losing the thread. Maksim’s been concerned.”

She stilled. “Maksim’s been lying.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Maybe not. But even the whisper of betrayal? I can’t wait for the storm. You know that, little sister.”

He crossed the room, grabbed something behind a crate and dragged it across the floor with a low scrape.

A body, slumped, bound and hooded.

Sienna’s pulse surged.

“Luka…”

He didn’t answer her, he didn’t even look.

He just pulled the hood off.

Antonia.

“Antonia…” Sienna choked out. “Oh my god.”

Luka stood calmly between them, a wall of cold authority. “She’s been playing both sides.” He told her. “You didn’t know this but she helped us move a case through Vienna last year. Information. Names.”

Sienna stared at him, breath catching. “She didn’t know it was you behind this case, Luka! You’ve hid behind Anton’s networks. You used her. How was she meant to know?!”

“She made a choice.” Luka shrugged, his voice hardening. “She gave me what I needed. Then she gave the court what they needed.”

He stepped closer to Antonia and his voice dropped, quieter and noticeably more deadlier.

“That makes her a liability.”

“No.” Sienna took a step forward. “Don’t. Luka, don’t do this.”

But he wasn’t looking at her anymore. 

His eyes were on Antonia, studying her like an old regret. “She wanted out. Just like you. But she came back. And there are only two ways that ends.”

A flick of his wrist.

One of the guards stepped forward, offering him a knife, long and clearly familiar.

He crouched beside Antonia, brushing her hair back in the same tender gesture he’d once used on Sienna, back when she was too young to know what he was preparing her for.

“Luka!” Sienna dropped to her knees beside him, eyes wide with desperation. “Please. Don’t. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“This is mercy.” He shrugged.

“It’s murder.” She whispered, shaking. “It’s murder to someone who doesn’t deserve this.”

“You’ve changed your tune. People like her will never be out of this line of work, it’s only a matter of time before she kills for money again.”

“No! She wouldn’t do that, not to Nata- Please Luka.” Sienna cried but she knew it was already too late to convince him. Not that she ever could.

Antonia stirred. Her body twitched, breath catching as she began to wake.

“Wh–”

“Antonia, look at me.” Sienna reached for her, voice shaking but steady. “It’s okay. Just look at me.”

“Sienna?” Her voice was rough, accented, thick with confusion. “What’s- what’s happening?”

“Shh. Keep your eyes on me. Stay with me.”

Luka didn’t flinch. “This is what happens to double agents, Sienna.” He said. “To soft hearts.”

And then he struck.

The blade slid across Antonia’s throat with a terrible, practiced grace.

She gasped, once. Her hand jerked toward Sienna, fingers stretching for something that would never come. 

Then she stilled.

Her blood spilled across the concrete like dark ink.

Sienna didn’t scream.

She didn’t cry.

She just froze.

Her hands clenched, her body trembled but she never looked away.

Luka stood, calm as ever. He wiped the blade clean on a cloth pulled from his coat. “She would’ve gotten you killed.” He said, as if that excused it all.

Sienna didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

He looked at her then, head tilting with mock sympathy. “You’ve been slipping, sister. I needed you to remember how this works.”

Then he turned, barking a quiet command to his men. “Take her home.” Luka murmured. “Let her think it over.”

They moved in but Sienna didn’t resist. She knelt there long after he was gone, eyes locked on Antonia’s body.

And something inside her broke.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The Avengers Compound, Upstate New York

April 3, 2022

Natasha was pacing.

Something had been wrong since dusk.

Sienna’s tracker had gone dark. Not just the main signal but every backup was redundant, encrypted, virtually impossible to jam. And yet it was gone.

The others tried to dismiss it. “She’s probably hiding out. Laying low. Taking space.”

But Natasha knew better.

She always knew better.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Undisclosed Safe House, Upstate New York

April 3, 2022

They dumped her on the edge of her street like trash. Blood still painted her hands, her blazer was torn, streaked with grime. Her breath came in shallow, frantic bursts. She hit the pavement with a thud and stayed there, unmoving. Eyes unfocused. Hair clinging to her face, matted with blood, not all of it hers. The blood still felt warm from where she had pressed her hands against the throat of Antonia, like with enough pressure it would just seal back up and she’d open her eyes again.

A car passed.

She didn’t flinch.

Then a flash of red blurred her vision.

“Sienna?!”

Natasha.

Boots pounding the sidewalk. She dropped to her knees beside her, fury and fear warring in her face until she took in the state Sienna was in.

Her voice broke. “What happened?”

She gripped Sienna’s shoulders, gently at first then more urgently. “Sienna. Look at me.”

No answer. Sienna’s eyes were glassy, distant. She looked through Natasha, not at her.

“You disappeared. We lost your signal.”

Sienna blinked, slow and almost mechanical.

Her lips parted then closed again.

Natasha’s gaze dropped to the blood. The blankness in her expression. The eerie stillness of her body.

She knew.

Without another word, she slid her arms around her carefully and steady. And this time, Sienna didn’t pull away.

She let herself be guided across the street, her feet dragging like they’d forgotten how to walk.

For Sienna, the world had tilted, not just from grief but from the terrifying clarity anchoring itself in her chest.

Luka was gone, he wasn’t ‘Luka’ anymore.

And there was no one left to protect her from what came next. Even worse, she didn’t know who she was now that she wasn’t protecting him.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The safehouse was too quiet.

Not just silent but weighted. The air felt thick with things unsaid, grief and guilt pressing into the walls. A kettle hissed faintly from the kitchen, the only sound in the hollow space.

Sienna sat on the edge of the couch. Her blazer hung off one shoulder. Blood had dried into the seams of her shirt. Her hands lay still in her lap, palms open like she didn’t know what to do with them anymore.

She hadn’t spoken since Natasha brought her in.

She looked like she’d clawed her way out of something. Her eyes were too bright, vacant but burning. Like whatever fire had once fueled her had devoured everything else on its way out.

Natasha knelt in front of her, moving slow, deliberate. She placed a mug of tea in Sienna’s hands.

“Drink.”

Sienna didn’t look at her but after a moment, she whispered. “I didn’t know he’d go that far.”

Natasha went still. “Who?”

A shake of the head. “She went so cold.” Sienna murmured, voice fraying.

Natasha leaned closer, her voice gentle. “Who, Sienna?”

Sienna’s eyes squeezed shut, tears slid down her cheeks, soundless.

“I tried to stop it.” She said and this time her voice cracked. “It’s my fault.”

Natasha sat beside her, close but not touching. A steady presence.

“Sienna.” She said, quietly. “Tell me what happened.”

Sienna stared down at her stained hands. “I don’t have a choice.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. “You do. You always do.”

Sienna finally looked at her. And this time, she saw her.

“Then help me.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The water pounded against Sienna’s skin, hot enough to scald but she didn’t turn it down.

She stood motionless under the stream, forehead pressed against the cold tile, arms braced on either side of her head. Her body trembled, even in the heat.

She hadn’t slept. Every time she closed her eyes, Antonia’s blood bloomed again across her hands. She heard the ragged breaths, felt the weight go still in her arms.

The sob she hadn’t let out then burned at the back of her throat now but it stayed there. She always kept it in.

The water slowed to a trickle. She reached blindly for the towel and stepped out, steam curling from her skin as she padded barefoot into the bedroom of the safe house.

Her phone buzzed on the dresser.

She nearly ignored it, already half-expecting another check-in from Natasha, who adamantly stayed alert in the living room. Refusing to leave Sienna in this trance-like state.

It wasn’t.

[Unknown Number] You let her die. Don’t make me kill another Widow. Tick tock, Sienna.

She stared then her breath hitched, once. The phone slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor.

“No.” She whispered, barely audible. “No…”

She took a step back, towel slipping from her fingers, heartbeat hammering in her ears.

Not Natasha. Please not Natasha.

Her knees hit the edge of the bed and she sat down hard. Shoulders hunched, hands gripping her skull like she could press the panic out of it. This was her mess. Her family. Her ghosts. 

Not Natasha.

Her breathing turned shallow. Her body stiffened, rigid with the effort of not falling apart.

But still, a low whimper escaped. Not quite a sob but something cracked. She bowed her head, jaw clenched, eyes burning.

Then the door burst open.

Natasha froze in the threshold, taking in the steam still hanging in the air, the wet footprints on the floor, Sienna half-dressed and hunched on the bed, trembling. The phone on the carpet, still lit.

She was at her side in two strides, wrapping a fresh towel around her shoulders without a word. “What happened?” She asked quietly but firmly. “Sienna.”

Sienna didn’t answer. She just held out the phone.

Natasha took it. She read the message once. Then again.

“Who sent this?”

Sienna opened her mouth but closed it and shook her head.

“I don’t know.” She managed, voice barely above a breath. “But they know what happened.”

Natasha didn’t press. She slid down beside her, one hand steady on Sienna’s back while her other already reaching for her own phone.

“You’re not staying here.”

Sienna looked at her, hollow-eyed. “I can’t protect anyone from this.”

Natasha met her gaze. She looks undetermined and fierce, Sienna almost had to admire it. “Then we go where we can fight.”

She stood, already moving. “Get dressed.” She instructed. “We’re going to the Tower.”

[xo-myloves]

🧛‍♀️-ENITRE GUNS N ROSES ORIGINAL LINE UP SMUT. PLEASEEE

Like she’s apart of the band or something and they all have a soft spot for her. Maybe like fluff to smut

Love you. Obvi only write if comfortable)

𝕊𝕌𝕄𝕄𝔸ℝ𝕐: 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖—𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐—𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚛, 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚛. 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚗. 𝙰 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞? 𝙾𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚎𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔. 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚜, 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚢 𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚜—𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖, 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑.

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

The night started off innocent.

Well—innocent by Guns N’ Roses standards.

You were sprawled across the floor of the band’s hotel room, sipping whiskey straight from the bottle while Axl, Slash, Izzy, Duff, and Steven lounged around you, laughing, passing smokes, tossing insults like it was a sport.

The air was thick with cigarette smoke and booze, the room dimly lit by the bedside lamp. Axl sat on the couch, red hair falling over his shoulders, eyes sharp. Slash was next to him, legs spread, his curls messy as he nursed a drink. Duff leaned back against the wall, smirking at something Izzy said, while Steven absentmindedly tapped a beat against his thigh.

“You’re too fuckin’ good for us,” Duff teased, nudging you with his boot. “Should be hanging out with, like, nice, respectable people.”

You rolled your eyes, stealing the bottle from his hand. “Yeah, and miss out on all this class?”

“Class?” Slash repeated, smirking. “Babe, you’re sitting on a floor covered in cigarette ash and bad decisions.”

Axl snorted. “Our bad decisions.”

“Speak for yourself,” Izzy muttered, flicking his lighter open and shut.

Steven grinned. “You love us.”

And yeah—you did.

Being around them was easy. Like slipping into a well-worn leather jacket—comfortable, familiar, just the right amount of dangerous.

Axl stretched, his gaze flickering to you. “You do love us, right?”

You tilted your head. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Yeah?” His voice dipped lower. “How much?”

The air shifted.

The teasing, easygoing energy suddenly felt thicker, charged with something you couldn’t quite name. You weren’t oblivious—you’d seen the way they looked at you before. The way their gazes lingered a little too long, the way conversations dipped into something heavier when they thought you weren’t paying attention.

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the whiskey bottle. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Axl smirked. “Oh, I would.”

A slow heat curled in your stomach.

And just like that, the night didn’t feel so innocent anymore.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯’ 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦.

It started slow.

Axl, ever the instigator, leaned forward, his fingers brushing over your knee—casual, light, but enough to make your breath hitch.

“You ever thought about it?” he asked, voice smooth as whiskey.

Your eyes flickered over the room. Slash’s gaze was low, dark with something unreadable. Izzy looked amused, like he already knew where this was going. Duff’s jaw tensed as he took a slow drag of his cigarette, and Steven—Steven just looked eager.

“Thought about what?” you asked, voice softer now.

Axl smirked. “C’mon, sweetheart. You know what.”

Your heart hammered.

Because yeah—you’d thought about it. Of course, you had.

It was impossible not to.

Five beautiful, reckless, hungry men.

And now? Now they were looking at you like you were something ripe for the taking.

Axl’s fingers traced a slow line up your thigh, his smirk widening when you didn’t stop him.

“You gonna let us ruin you, baby?” he murmured.

Your breath shuddered out.

And then—you nodded.

That was all they needed.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴.

Axl started it, of course.

His lips were rough, greedy, swallowing your moans as he pulled you into his lap. His hands gripped your hips, grinding you against his growing hardness, a low groan escaping him when you whimpered.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasped, lips brushing your jaw. “So needy.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he passed you to Slash.

Slash kissed slow, deep, his hands strong as they slid under your shirt, fingers tracing your ribs.

“Y’know,” he murmured against your lips, “I’ve dreamed about this.”

Izzy wasn’t as patient.

He yanked your head back, exposing your throat, his mouth trailing down your skin.

“Bet you like this,” he mused, his hand slipping under your waistband.

You gasped.

“Fuck, look how wet she is,” Izzy murmured, sliding his fingers through your slick folds, smirking against your throat. “Soaked.”

“Jesus,” Duff muttered from the side, palming himself over his jeans.

Steven was already stripping.

“C’mon,” he grinned. “We’ve waited long enough.”

The night blurred into heat, hands, mouths—pleasure, sharp and endless.

Duff whispering sweet, filthy things against your ear as he fucked you slow and deep.

Axl tugging your hair, ruining you with his mouth, telling you how beautiful you looked falling apart.

Slash, eyes dark, his voice wrecked as he growled, “Fucking hell, baby—” before slamming into you harder.

Izzy, smirking as he watched you struggle to take it all.

Steven, eager, relentless, murmuring how tight you were as he buried himself inside you.

It was too much.

It wasn’t enough.

You didn’t stop until the sun rose, and even then—they weren’t done.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Once Upon A Time Pt. 1

Pairing: Big Bad Wolf!Eddie Munson x Little Pig!Reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N, I haven't seen OUAT in a bit, so this isn't going to really follow the plot, Fairytale Wolf Eddie calls reader 'Little Pig' in a non-mean nickname type way (Since she's one of the three little pigs)

Summary: Once Upon A Time style AU. Before they were sent to Storybrooke, Y/N was one of the three little pigs, a group of three sisters who broke away from their town to build a life on their own. Everything was fine until Eddie the Wolf came knocking at their doors. In a strange twist of fate, Eddie and Y/N fell in love. A curse is placed over their kingdom, sending them into another world. One where they don't know they're in love. The curse begins to crack when Eddie and Y/N start to get to know each other. Will they ever learn the truth?

*Not Proof Read*

No specific mention of body type or race.

*****

"You're staring." Nancy gently taps on my arm, pulling me away from the man seated in the far corner of the diner.

The man, a local music store owner named Eddie Munson, sits with his face towards us. His black curly hair is tied up in a messy bun that allows a few stray pieces and his bangs to frame his face. His brows are furrowed in concentration as his eyes are fixed on the newspaper in his hands. His lips quietly whisper the words he's reading along to. He's dressed in a Guns 'N' Roses band tee and black ripped jeans, an outfit he wears versions of daily.

He's a daily regular.

"I wasn't." I deny as I begin scrubbing harder on the diner counter. No matter how many times I clean it, there's always a lingering sticky feel.

Nancy sighs. "Look, you can't keep doing this to yourself. You need to move on if you're not going to make a move. You're torturing yourself. What about...what about Argyle? He's free." She leans back against the counter, folding her arms over her chest as she watches me.

I shake my head. "Argyle's in a very committed relationship with his bong." I joke. "Nance, I know nothing's going to come of it. I just...I can't help it. It's like I'm drawn to him. Something about him feels familiar. It's like we're connected or something."

"Someone's reached a new level of delusional." Robin teases while coming to stand next to us.

I know they're right. It's a stupid crush that I need to get over. I don't understand why it's so difficult for me to move on from this man. I've only ever talked to him to take his order. Occassionally we'll joke, but it's never been much more than that. It's not like we've had a romantic, movie-worthy moment.

My friends break away from our conversation to continue finishing their tasks. I let out a small sigh and drop my rag into a bucket full of sanitizer. I glance over at the diner booth where Eddie is sitting once again. For a brief moment, he makes eye contact with me and sends a small polite smile in my direction.

Butterflies erupt in my stomach. I return the gesture before tearing my gaze away and forcing myself to calm down. I need to get over this.

-----

I bite my lip nervously while staring up at the sign above the building. 'Eddie's Music Shop' stares down at me, making the nerves in my stomach tumble even more.

Why did this place have to be the only store in town selling the latest The Runaways cassette? I guess I don't have to buy the cassette for Robin. I could always get her some new craft supplies.

But she's been talking about this band for months. She'd love their new cassette.

I need to do this for Robin. It's just a crush, Y/N. Get over it.

I take a breath and force myself into the building. Inside is exactly how I expected. The building's decorations fit the energy of Eddie perfectly, with posters from bands I've seen him wear t-shirts of handing on the walls under dim lights. Instruments of all kinds are hung on the walls or on the floor. Near the front of the store is a section dedicated to practice books. I follow a sign that says 'albums and cassettes'. Rows and rows of albums and cassettes make my eyes widen.

How am I going to find the right one?

"Good morning!" A voice says from the back of the store. The owner of the voice pushes past a cloth that hangs over the 'employee only' section, revealing Eddie. Eddie smiles at me, his eyes crinkling slightly. Today, his hair hangs loose around his head. He's wearing a Metallica shirt, which is slightly tucked into his usual ripped black jeans. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Uh-" I reply with a blink. I've never spoken to him outside of the diner, something that's very surprising seeing as we live in a tiny town. "The Runaways?" I struggle to form a sentence.

Eddie's eyes glimmer in amusement. " We definitely have The Runaways. We have everything you could ever want here. Let me show you where you can find their stuff." Eddie begins to lead me down the long rows of music.

I take in the different genres available as we pass through the rows. He truly does have everything. From Madonna to Iron Maiden to David Bowie to Hall and Oats.

We stop in front of a section labeled Riot Grrrl & Punk Classics. Eddie crouches down without hesitation, flipping through the tapes with practiced fingers. He hums as he searches-loud enough that I can make out the tune. It’s 'Cherry Bomb.'

Of course.

"Here we go," he says, pulling out the cassette like he’s drawing a sword from a stone. "The Runaways-legendary, chaotic, a little unhinged. Just the way I like my music."

He stands and offers it to me with a crooked grin. His hair falls over one shoulder, and I get caught staring at the way his rings glint against the cassette case.

"It’s not for me," I say too quickly, grabbing it before I think better of it. "It’s for a friend. Robin."

"Robin Buckley?" he asks, eyes lighting up with recognition. "Tall, talks fast, always smells like paint thinner and conspiracy theories?"

I laugh. "Yeah, that’s her."

"She’s cool," he says, nodding. "Tell her to swing by sometime. I’ve got some Blondie bootlegs she’d probably sell her soul for." He pauses. "Or, you know… you could come back and pick ’em up for her. If you want."

His voice is so casual I almost miss the way his eyes flick up to mine. Hopeful. Like he doesn’t say things like that often. Like maybe it scared him to.

Before I can respond, he’s already walking back toward the counter. "Take your time looking around," he calls over his shoulder. "Everything here’s good for the soul. Some of it’s even alphabetized."

I stand there a second longer than I should, cassette in hand, heart rattling like a snare drum in my chest.

That night, I lie awake with the tape sitting on my bedside table, spine facing me. The Runaways. I should feel normal about this. It’s just a music store. He’s just a guy.

Except… he isn’t.

I’ve never talked to him like that before. Never outside the diner. Never with more than a few seconds of eye contact or a mumbled thanks when I refilled his coffee. But there’s something about him that clicks. Like hearing a familiar melody you didn’t know you knew. Like déjà vu, but stronger.

It feels like I know him from a different life. One where we talk about more than just coffee and cassettes.

---

The diner is mostly dark now, save for the hum of the overhead lights and the soft clink of silverware as I tidy up the counter. Nancy and Robin left over an hour ago, and the cook’s back in the kitchen blasting some old jazz record I’ve never heard. It’s just me out here.

Well-me and Eddie.

He’s perched in his usual booth, boots up on the seat across from him, head buried in a battered paperback. The book’s spine is so cracked it looks like it’s been read a hundred times. Probably has. He always brings it with him. Never the same page, though.

"So, did Robin like the cassette?" He asks out of the blue, pulling me from my tasks.

I blink, surprised he remembered. With a coffee pot in hand, I walk over to his table. He probably needs a refill by now. "Yeah. She freaked out. Said she’d name her first-born child after you."

Eddie smirks. "She better not. Poor kid."

There’s a beat of silence before I shift on my feet. I bite my lip and glance at him. "What about you?"

"Hm?" He hums, glancing up from his mug.

"What kind of music do you actually like? I’ve only ever seen you in band tees. You’re kind of a mystery."

He leans back, dramatic as ever. "Ah, peeling back the layers of the enigmatic Eddie Munson, are we?"

I roll my eyes. "Just curious."

He taps his rings on the edge of his mug, thoughtful. "I mean, yeah, I love the heavy stuff-Black Sabbath, Metallica, you name it. But I don't despise everything else. I mean, I do own a music store. Jazz, rock, and some pop. I'll listen to it if it's playing on the radio."

I smile, surprised but not surprised. "Quite the music man."

"That I am." He agrees.

"Need a refill?" I ask while eyeing his halfway full cup.

He looks up and grins, pushing the mug toward me. "Absolutely. This stuff tastes like battery acid, and I’m kind of into it now. Stockholm syndrome, maybe."

I laugh softly and pour. "That’s the true diner experience."

We both fall quiet in a comfortable silence. I go to fill his cup when our hands touch.

The contact is brief. Barely there.

But the world fractures.

-----Flashback-----

I slam the door shut and slide the bolt into place just as a low, sinister chuckle echoes through the trees.

"Oh, come on, little pig," a voice purrs from outside. "That house of sticks didn’t last long. What makes you think bricks are any better?"

I was terrified this would happen. Days ago, he blew down the home of my middle sister. It's the second home of ours, he's destroyed it. Thankfully, Robin was able to make it to my home before the wolf got to her. The first house he destroyed was my youngest sister's. Nancy was luckily nowhere near the house when the wolf decided to attack.

"What do we do, Y/N?" Robin asks, anxiously pacing the house. "He-he's going to come in here and kill us."

Nancy tries to comfort her. "It'll be okay, Rob. We'll be okay." Nancy tries to keep the panic out of her voice. "Right, Y/N? We'll be okay."

It tears me apart to see my younger sisters so scared. I need to protect them.

"That's right, Nance. We're going to be okay." My heart pounds. I press my back to the door, turning my attention back to the threat outside. "You won’t get in."

"Hm. Sounds like a challenge. I've always loved a challenge."

Heavy footsteps crunch across the forest floor. The scent of pine and smoke fills the air. Something snarls low in the trees, but I know it’s not a random beast.

It’s him.

The Wolf.

He appears in the clearing with a confidence that makes the hairs on my arms rise. Dark curls fall loose around his face, and he’s all leather and shadow and hunger. His piercing, glowing eyes stare straight into mine through the peephole, like he knows I'm watching him. They're captivating and truly take my breath away, some of the most beautiful yet dangerous things I've ever seen. But it’s his smile that terrifies me most-sharp, wicked, amused.

"I could blow this place down in one breath," he murmurs, stepping onto my porch. "But I’m feeling generous tonight."

My throat goes dry. "You want to eat us. That’s why you’re here."

He shrugs, licking his pearly white teeth. "Maybe. Or maybe I’m just bored. Why don't you come out here and find out, little pig? I promise I don't bite. Well, that might be a tiny little white lie."

I swallow hard. "If you’re really that hungry…: My eyes trail to the stove in the kitchen. Inside, a warm loaf of bread is baking. It sparks an idea. "I could make you something."

He pauses. The grin falters-just barely, at the offer. "Food?" He echoes.

"Yes. A meal. It's chilly out there, especially at this time. I'm sure you could use something home cooked to warm you up." I try to keep my tone level.

He stares at me through the peephole, somehow studying me like I’m a puzzle he hasn’t solved yet. Then, slowly, he nods. "Alright. One dinner. And I won’t eat you."

My shoulders sag in relief.

"But just tonight," he adds with a wink. "Tomorrow's a new day. And I don't like to make promises I can't keep."

The visits become nightly.

He never says why he keeps coming back-but he does. My best guess would be the food. Every evening, I meet him at the edge of the trees, a basket of food in hand. I serve him stew, or bread, or roasted roots. He lounges on the stone wall outside our brick house, eating with his fingers, licking the last of the salt from them with slow satisfaction.

True to his word, he doesn't attempt to attack me, my family, or my home.

"You realize this doesn’t change anything," he says on the fifth night. "Tomorrow I could eat all three of you."

"And I’ll be here tomorrow with supper," I shoot back. "I'm making a pie."

We fall into a rhythm. A strange, delicate balance of threat and… something else. The sharpness in his smile dulls. The once intimidating glimmer of danger in his eyes fades into a smug look. His posture softens. He laughs- really laughs- when I scold him for nearly crushing my freshly planted flowerbeds.

One night, as I hand him a plate, our fingers brush.

His gaze lingers on mine. "You’re not afraid of me anymore, are you, little pig?"

"I probably should be. But..." I glance at the wolf. "I'm not."

Although we've been eating together every night for months, we've never shared our names. To me, he's been Wolf. To him, I've been Little Pig.

Tonight, curiosity gets the best of me.

"What's your name, Wolf? Your real name." I ask while taking a bite of my food.

I can feel the wolf's gaze on me as he thinks about whether he should answer truthfully or not. Finally, he responds.

"Eddie. My name is Eddie. Yours, Little Pig?" He eyes me curiously.

"My name is Y/N.

Eddie doesn't respond. He simply observes me, his eyes scanning over my face for a few minutes, like he's curious. " Y/N, I won't eat you. Not tonight."

I smirk, a small confidence bubbling in my chest. It's something that's grown over the past few months of meeting with the wolf every night. "You always say that, Eddie." His name rolls off my tongue.

But that night, he says nothing more.

And for the first time, I find myself watching him walk back into the forest… wishing he didn’t have to leave.

-----Present-----

I drop the coffee pot.

Glass shatters against the tile. The loud crash jolts me out of the vision-but not fast enough.

The lights above flicker violently, buzzing and sparking. The floor hums beneath my shoes like something ancient just woke up.

Eddie’s already standing, his sketchbook forgotten, eyes locked onto mine.

"You saw that too?" he says, low.

I nod, breath catching in my throat. "You were a wolf."

"You cooked for me," he murmurs, like he’s remembering it piece by piece. "And I-I spared you?" He's confused. We both are.

The diner goes still.

Neither of us moves.

Neither of us speaks.

My heart races in my chest, and I can still feel the heat of the fire, the weight of the basket in my arms, the way he watched me like I was the one thing in the forest worth sparing.

I look down at the spilled coffee.

"I’ll-I’ll clean this up." I stammer while backing away, needing to create some distance between the two of us to process what just happened.

I flee to the back, pretending my hands aren’t shaking.

Behind me, Eddie mutters under his breath, almost too quiet to hear.

"I’ll be back tomorrow."

And this time… there’s no threat in it.

Just confusion and a promise.

-----

The bell over the diner's door jingles, and I already know who it is before I look up. He's on time, like always.

Eddie Munson strolls in, his rings clinking softly as he adjusts the strap of his guitar case over his shoulder. He’s wearing another band tee-Judas Priest this time-and a dark denim jacket with a tear near the shoulder.

He told me yesterday he’d be back.

And here he is.

I don’t know whether to feel flattered or nervous. My hands are already sweating. Last night left me so emotionally confused.

He spots me behind the counter, offers a small, tight-lipped smile, and slides into the same booth as before.

Everything in me wants to ask if he remembers what happened last night.

But we don’t bring it up.

I grab a notepad and head over. "You want the usual?" I ask, pen ready, voice a little too casual.

Eddie taps his fingers against the table. "Hm. Let’s mix it up today. Surprise me."

I nod once and write something down, grateful for the excuse to look away from his eyes. Those beautiful eyes, the same ones that looked so dangerous in whatever hallucination I saw yesterday. "Bold of you to trust me."

"I’m feeling brave." His smile tilts. "Could be worse. I could’ve asked for the house special."

"You just did."

He chuckles at that, and something in me eases. Just a little.

As I turn to leave, a man at the counter stands abruptly and knocks into my shoulder with enough force to throw me off balance.

"Watch it," he grunts, not even looking back.

I stumble sideways-and right into Eddie’s booth. His hands are out in a flash, grabbing my arms to steady me.

Once again, flesh meets flesh.

And the diner fades.

-----Flashback-----

The setting sun peaks out from above the treetops, casting a warm glow on the earth. The air is colder tonight, kissed with the scent of pine and the lingering smoke of someone’s faraway fire. I shiver as I spread the blanket out in the small clearing, smoothing the edges over the soft grass and dirt. It'll be winter soon. I don't know how we're going to continue our dinners in the cold.

I set down the small bundle of food I’ve prepared -roasted vegetables, baked apples, and a little tin of dried meat I bartered for. I don't do it often, but I know that a predator like Eddie needs meat to survive. Even though most of my meals lack meat, Eddie never complains. Not about the food, anyway.

Something rustles behind me.

I freeze, my heart doing a stutter-step of recognition and fear. "You’re early," I call over my shoulder with a small smile, though it falters when I hear nothing in response.

No gravelly tease. No dramatic entrance. No wolfish grin.

The hairs on my arms rise. I have a feeling this isn't the wolf.

I stand slowly and turn, my suspicions confirmed immediately.

It’s someone else.

A man, draped in dark armor. Leather and bone. His face is shadowed by a hood, but I catch the glint of a curved blade at his hip.

"You live nearby?" His voice is low, oily.

I don’t answer.

"Pretty spot. Pretty girl," he murmurs, stepping closer. "Love the setup. It's like you were waiting for me."

I take a step back. "I don’t want any trouble."

"Oh, I do."

I barely hear the growl before he appears.

A blur of black curls and fury crashes into the clearing from the woods, knocking the stranger to the ground with a snarl so sharp it scrapes against the bones of my ears.

Eddie.

But not the version I've grown to know over the past few months. A version much more dangerous than the one I met on our first night, when he threatened to kill me.

This is the completely animalistic version of Eddie.

Fangs bared. Hands curled into claws. Eyes burning with something primal and dark.

He roars as he pins the man down, slashing at the leather armor with a snarl. The intruder struggles beneath him, slamming an elbow into Eddie’s ribs-and I see it. The flash of silver as the intruder draws his blade.

"Eddie!"

He turns just in time to catch the blade across his side.

The scream that tears from my throat doesn’t sound like mine.

Blood splashes the grass.

Eddie doesn’t stop. He rips the weapon from the man’s hands and hurls it across the clearing. "Run, and don't come back. I will know if you're here. I will know if you're in town. I will chase you down. I will rip your throat out. Leave them in peace." he growls, and the man does as he's told, disappearing into the dark like smoke on the wind.

Eddie stumbles, breath heaving. He turns toward me, and the snarl drops from his face, his furious expression replaced with pain.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I rush to him, hands already shaking. "You’re bleeding-"

"It’s fine." He lets out a staggered breath, groaning as he inspects his injured side.

"It’s not fine!"

"You tried to warn me. Why?" He asks.

I blink, trying to understand why I didn't just leave Eddie to handle everything on his own. "I know you. I know you aren't going to hurt me. I didn't know him."

He’s still looking at me, eyes wild and confused. Like, he doesn’t understand why he came. Why he attacked. Why he protected me.

"You were hurt," I whisper, more gently now. "Come on. I’ll clean it up."

His brows furrow. "I didn’t come here to help you," he says, like he’s trying to remind himself. "I came to threaten your house again."

"Yeah, well." I reach for his arm and guide him toward the house in question. "You kind of blew your whole ‘big, bad’ image just now. No pun intended."

He lets me help him sit on a chair at the dining table, groaning slightly. Blood stains the hem of his shirt. "Guess I’ll have to huff and puff extra hard tomorrow. Can't let others think I'm going soft now, can I?"

I pause as I soak a cloth with water. "Will you actually come back tomorrow?"

He doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he looks at me-not like prey, not like a joke. Like I’m something he doesn’t know what to do with. Something dangerous in a way that scares him.

"I don’t know what’s happening to me," he admits, voice raw.

I press the cloth to his side, gently. "Me either."

The house is quiet since both of my sisters are visiting friends tonight. It's just the two of us.

I finish tending the wound in silence, careful not to look at him too long. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll start to understand something I’m not ready to say out loud. It's confusing, the way my feelings have changed for this man over the span of months.

Somewhere along the way, my fear faded as Eddie started to become my friend. His obviously empty threats didn't scare me anymore. Somewhere along the way, I realized that what Eddie truly wanted wasn't food. It wasn't even my house. He didn't want to kill. He wanted a friend, and the only way he knew how to get the interaction he was so desperately wanting was through bugging others.

And now, I think that fear has turned into a crush.

That terrifies me.

When I finish, Eddie stands up, ready to leave. "Thank you, Y/N." He mutters quietly. "I’ll be back tomorrow."

Not to huff. Not to puff. Not to blow the house down.

Just... back. To be with me.

-----Present-----

The vision ends.

The lights flicker again -less violently this time, but enough to make Eddie drop his hands from my arms like they burned him.

We stare at each other.

I can feel the phantom weight of his bloodied shirt and the heat of the hearth.

"Second time," he mutters, his voice low and unsettled. "That’s… that’s not normal, right?"

"Definitely not," I say, still trying to steady my breath. The air feels thicker now. "I don’t know what’s going on, but… I’ve got this weird feeling. Like this isn’t just some freak coincidence."

Eddie shifts uncomfortably, raking a hand through his hair. "How are we both seeing the exact same things? Same people. Same place. And it feels so real. Like… like we’ve actually lived it."

"I know," I whisper. "It doesn’t feel like a dream. Or a hallucination. It feels like-" I stop myself, unsure how to finish the sentence.

"Like a memory," he says for me. He meets my eyes, and the look in them makes my chest feel too tight. "But that’s insane. That can’t be possible."

"Then what is it?"

He doesn’t answer.

I glance around the diner, still mostly empty except for the cook and a few other regulars scattered around the room. The overhead lights stop flickering, and the hum of the building returns to normal, but nothing feels normal.

"I want answers," I say quietly. "Whatever this is… I’m not just gonna ignore it."

Eddie nods, jaw tight. "Me either. I want to figure out what the hell is happening to us."

There’s a pause. The weight of it all settles between us.

"When do you get off work?" he asks.

"In an hour. Why?"

"I’ll wait outside," he says simply. "We can talk. Figure this out or find someone who can help us figure it out." He pauses for a moment. "I think I know someone who can help us."

I nod, heartbeat still thrumming in my ears. "Okay." I agree.

A knowing feeling settles in my gut. An instinct.

Somehow, Eddie and I are connected, and I have a feeling it runs deeper than sharing dinners together.

[areyouwell]

Thanatophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of losing somebody you love. Children or adults with this condition tend to steer clear of any form of relationship, haunted by the possibility it could be ripped away from them.

Ch.6

Ch.5,5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <--

Paring: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, explicit content, brief description of rape, extremely fucked up timelines cuz i can't do maths but just like, go with it? for me? pls?

Word Count: 13k

A/N: whew boy was this chapter tricky. not to go into too much detail about my personal life but i actually managed to trigger myself writing this so please please please be aware that this could be difficult to read if you're an SA/Rape survivor cuz yeesh... was this tough

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside @justice4billiam @holyhumorliteraturelight @cxptainbuck @sseleniaa @sadslasher13 @yallgotkik

Settling into your new life hadn’t been as difficult as you’d thought. Perhaps it was because you’d spent the last two years away, but you didn’t miss the mansion as much as you thought you would. Sure, you missed Kitty randomly barging into your room, and you sincerely hoped someone had explained to her at least some of what was going on, but the feeling faded fairly quickly within the first few weeks. You and Logan fell into routine domesticity a little too easily. He taught the correct way to aim a hunting rifle, nestling the butt of the gun into the nook between your shoulder and chest. He taught you how to follow deer tracks, what to look out for when estimating how far away the game is, and which tracks not to follow under any circumstances.

You, on the other hand, started teaching him a passion you’d forgotten you’d had until you found yourself with too much time on your hands. Or at least, a passion you’d forgotten was planted in your memory… was it your passion, or just a passion you thought was yours? Every time thoughts such as these rose to the forefront of your mind, you tried to push them away. They never yielded any answers and just served to send you spirally. Logan usually caught your faraway stares, the way your eyes glazed over as you dissociated back into your mind. He’d bring you back with a gentle call of your name, hands tilting your chin up to look into his eyes. 

The first time you’d slid your sketchbook across the dining room table, Logan’s eyes welled up slightly. Sure, he’d stolen glances at you whilst you huddled on the window seat bench, charcoal staining your fingertips black as you elegantly swiped it across the paper, but he had no idea you were sketching him. When you’d asked him what he thought, he couldn’t find the right words and ended up with you perched on the kitchen counter, his head between your thighs, pouring his awestruck gratitude into eating you out. Since then, you both took time out of your days to sit with each other and you taught him everything you knew. As it turned out, he wasn’t half bad. At least, that’s what you exclaimed with a slightly insulting amount of surprise in your voice. He’d always brush off your praise, comparing his work to yours, but he couldn’t deny the pride that bloomed in his chest.

Logan had learnt not to ask after your well-being too often, finding that you would huff in irritation if he mentioned it more than once a day and remind him that you weren’t that mentally unstable. After a month of settling in, you’d mutually decided to start training again, heading out into the woods a little ways and finding a safe, exclusive spot on the lake shore. Plenty of shadows around between the tree line and the water, it was perfect. Though, not that it made much of a difference. The progress you made was second to none, barely managing to make the darkness shift a fraction before you’d grit your teeth and attempt to stamp down your frustration. 

The days grew colder as the months went by, leaves fading from lush, vibrant greens to crinkled, burning oranges before dropping altogether, coating the ground in a blanket of crunchy fire. It was your favourite season, autumn. The sweet scent of mulch wreathed your senses with every kick of the chilly breeze as you stepped from the warm cabin thankful you’d donned a knitted scarf around your neck, two mugs clasped in your hands. Amongst the many other things Logan had taught you, how to make the best cups of hot chocolate may be, in your opinion, the most useful. Small marshmallows melted atop the surface of the drink as your boots crunched along the gravel, eyes drinking in the sight before you.

He was made for this life. Leather jacket discarded atop a stack of logs, he’d rolled the sleeves of his brown flannel shirt up to his elbows, the hood of the truck propped open and his head ducked far into the depths of the engine. You mentioned you thought the spark plugs were going a few days ago, but he brushed off your concerns. It wasn’t until he’d received a call from the local garage about a bike part he’d requested and he went to leave that morning did he realise you were right after the truck misfired almost instantly. You tried not to be too smug about it.

“How’s it going?” Logan looked back as he heard your voice and approaching footsteps, withdrawing from the depths of the hood and swiping his hands on the dirty rag over his shoulder. A warm smile pulled at his lips as he saw what you were carrying, and he thanked you with a quick kiss, taking the mug you’d offered to him. 

“Well. you were right,” you pursed your lips as you tried not to smirk wildly, failing miserably when he rolled his eyes. “Yeah alright. ‘Scuze me for asusmin’ you didn’t know what you were talkin’ about. Anyway,” he continued pointedly and you giggled lightly. “Todd rang, he’s on his way with a few replacement plugs, since the damn thing won’t even start now. The good news is, he’s bringing the bike part with him, so we could get that goin’ this afternoon.” He raised the marshmallowy mug to his lips, humming pleasantly as he tasted his own hot chocolate recipe you’d followed. 

Your eyes lit up at his words. He’d been working on the bike hidden in the small barn since you’d arrived here six months ago, making its restoration his little personal project. He’d spoken to Todd before about acquiring replacement parts and had slowly been fixing up the motorcycle with each trip to the garage. All he needed now was the replacement brake calliper and it would be good to go. “I would have made a third mug if I knew Todd was coming round. That’s amazing though, crazy to think it’s taken this long.” You cradled the steaming mug with both hands, blowing slightly on the warm liquid before taking a long sip, licking at the remains left on your upper lip.

“I know right?” he agreed, tucking you against his side with an arm around your shoulders. “Startin’ to think I should have asked you for help since you can recognise a blown spark plug from a single misfire,” you snorted a laugh into your drink.

“Yeah well, in my completely fabricated past, I trained as a mechanic for a bit so I know a thing or two.”

“You’re only tellin’ me this now?”

“It didn’t seem important at the time!” You held your hands up in defence, your fingers still hooked around the handle of your warm mug. Logan rolled his eyes, unable to tame his disobedient smile. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, ya know that?” He set his half-full mug next to his jacket on the stack of logs, taking yours and setting it down as well all so he could pick you up in his arms, your legs instantly circling around his waist, his hands settling on your thighs. Your fingers threaded through the soft strands at the back of his head as you looked down at him, your eyes dancing with mischief.

“Me? Little ol’ me? I’m heartbroken,” nothing about your current body language suggested anything of the sort, your faux innocence only serving to confirm his suspicions. 

“Bet it’s just eatin’ you up inside, huh?” Sarcasm dripped from his tone and you threw your head back as you laughed, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck before you looked back down at him, wasting no time in taking his lips captive with your own, giggling into the kiss when he bit gently on the soft flesh of your upper lip. You inhaled a sharp gasp through your nose when he smoothed over the small hurt with his tongue, feeling your core respond to his actions, your blood heating with every languid brush of his lips against yours, every slight nibble of his teeth.

Logan groaned softly at the scent of your arousal building, his skin tingling as you returned every nip of his teeth with one of your own, sandwiching his lower lip between your front teeth and tugging slightly. Your hands returned to his hair, twirling the longer strands between your fingers and pulling tight. Todd’s imminent arrival forgotten, Logan swiped at the hood prop, slamming the lid shut and setting your down so his hands could roam up your waist to your breasts, kneading and groping at your tits over your hoodie. 

His lips dragged a trail of soft bites down the side of your neck, his fingers deftly popping open the button of your jeans and pulling down your zipper, his entire hand disappearing down between your damp thighs, his fingertips grazing across the centre of your slick core over your underwear. He growled in response to your whimper, tugging the crotch of your briefs to one side and sliding the back of his finger up over your clit. 

“So wet for me, what got you goin’, hm? ‘S it that book? Did they finally fuck? Make you miss me, hm?” He’d caught glances of you in the window, lip caught between your teeth as you devoured the pages in front of you, your legs crossed tightly. He’d laughed to himself at the time, but now he wanted to show you what the real world could offer. 

You went to bite back at his condescending tone, opening your mouth only to inhale an embarrassing gasp as one of his thick fingers slid inside you, pumping and curling in the ways he knew would have you creaming in minutes. Your nails sank into his forearm, mouth dropping open as hot pleasure coursed through your veins. Humiliatingly enough, it was exactly why you’d come out to see him. The two characters in the book you were reading finally put aside their differences and realised they loved each other in a passionate display of tender fucking. And yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think of Logan at the time. But this wasn’t what you were expecting at all.”

“Logan!” you cried out to the blue skies as your head fell back the moment a second finger slipped inside your aching heat, your walls clamping down against his digits as if he would ever try to escape. With his one free hand, Logan dragged your jeans and underwear down just far enough to slip beneath them between your legs, keeping your knees over his shoulder as he pushed you back against the windshield. You clutched at the wipers as he rubbed his nose against your clit, moaning wantonly at the scent of your liquid nectar. 

His tongue darted out to swipe a long line up the centre of your core, using his fingers to provoke more of your slick to drip down the apex of your thighs for him to drink like a man parched of water. Your hips bucked with each stroke of his tongue, gasping a pitched whimper of his name as his lips wrapped around your sensitive pearl and sucked until you screamed at the heavens above you, your orgasm splitting every nerve in your body with each slow caress of his fingertips against that delicious bundle of nerves nestled two knuckles inside you. 

Your nails scratched against the hood of the truck, flaking off the paint job as wave after wave of your high crashed through your mind and body, your spine arching your hips further against his face as you ground against his tongue before the pleasure spiked into overstimulation and you squirmed away from his fingers, panting desperately. 

“That’s my girl, y’allright?” he soothed, pressing soft kisses to the scar on your inner thigh, cringing in second-hand pain as the back of your head smacked the windscreen behind you, your tensed, shaking muscles finally relaxing. “Y’okay!?”

You giggled, still a little dazed from your orgasm, your hand lazily feeling the slight numbness at the back of your head, simply making sure you hadn’t cracked it open, or at the very least, split the skin. But you felt no blood. “Yeah, ‘m all good. But if you don’t fuck me on the hood of this truck I might pass away– whaaat’re you doing?” You asked as he ducked out from between your legs, pulling your underwear and trousers back up over your knees and to your waist.

“I’ll start makin’ funeral arrangements then. Todd’s here.” You didn’t miss his growl of discomfort, and your heart bled for him a little, knowing he was going to have to go the next god knows how long hard as a rock in his jeans. Pulling up the zipper and fastening the button at your navel, you hopped off the truck just as Todd’s beaten old 4x4 trundled through the tree line. He was one of the only people who knew you were even here, apparently, he was a friend of the previous owner and knew Logan fairly well. The two hadn’t kept in touch, but he’d given him a firm handshake when he first took the pickup truck to his garage.

Retrieving the two mugs of now slightly cooled chocolate, Logan smiled gratefully as he once again took the mug from you, placing a kiss to your brow as he held up an arm of greeting to Todd. The older man stepped from the car, slamming the door shut, a ziplock bag of spark plugs grasped in his broad hand. He had a thick, greying beard bushing proudly along his chin and jaw, bridging across his upper lip. A full head of salt and pepper hair slicked back from his brow, tied into a small bun at the back of his head. You couldn’t deny that he most definitely would have been a lady's man back in his prime, with deep-set blue eyes and a smile crisp as winter frost? You could definitely have seen yourself falling for his charms.

It seemed you had a thing for bearded men. And Logan also seemed to have noticed. He raised a brow as he looked at you out of his peripheral. “Stop eyeing up my mechanic.” He elbowed you lightly and you snorted a laugh.

“Not my fault,” your tone was hushed as you watched Todd head into the backseat of his car, retrieving the new brake calliper for Logan’s bike. “Clearly I like older men.” You sent him a wink and he rolled his eyes, smirking against his better judgement. 

“What’ve you done to ‘er then? And I don’t mean to yer girl ‘ere.” Todd strode over with the self-assurance of a gold medal athlete, a winning smile parting his bearded lips to reveal bright white teeth. You flipped your hair over your shoulder, stepping forward to embrace the man who planted a kiss on your cheek. “Hello, gorgeous. He lookin’ after ya properly?” His faux seriousness had you casting a cheeky glance back at Logan, who narrowed his eyes in response. 

“He’s doing his best.” You whispered loudly behind your hand, and Todd nodded in an exaggerated display of understanding. 

“I’ll ‘ave a word with ‘im, don’t you worry.” He winked at you and you placed your hand against your heart dramatically, pretending to faint as Todd turned from you to Logan, who folded his arms across his chest with a thick brow raised. But he couldn’t keep up his irritated façade for long. It was a tradition ever since the two of you started visiting the garage frequently for Logan’s bike. Todd would flirt with you relentlessly, Logan would pretend to get irate about it for all of thirty seconds before breaking into a wide grin and firmly clasping the man in an embrace. And this time was no different, a solid clap to Todd’s back was all that was needed for you to know this wasn’t the time the men fought it out. The first time you’d visited, you genuinely thought Logan was going to slice his head clean off the second Todd looked your way. But he just stood back with an amused, almost proud smirk as you were flirted with relentlessly. It took you completely off guard at first, but now you were more than happy to go along with it. 

“Didn’t surprise me, it’s an old truck,” you heard Logan explain as you returned from your memories, stepping up to lean against the raised hood of the pickup, your arms crossed against your chest, gesturing to the engine with the mug in your hand.

“Think the oil needs changing too. The mileage counter was going crazy the other day and I only went out to the corner shop. I checked the oil level when I got back and nothing was wrong so I think it’s most likely carbon buildup. Like Lo’ said, it’s an old truck.” The two men stared at you in disbelief as if knowing how to check the oil on a car wasn’t something they expected from you. You flipped them both off. “Oh fuck off the pair of you, I was the one to notice the faulty spark plugs thank you very much.” You placed a defensive hand on your hip, and Todd looked from you to Logan next to him.

“That true?” he asked with a bushy brow raised. 

Logan released a long sigh, offering a low, reluctant “Yep…” 

There was a beat before Todd howled with laughter, his hand clasping Logan’s shoulder with a loud clap. “Said it before an’ I’ll say it again, you got yerself a keeper ‘ere Logan. A woman who looks this good in jeans and knows ‘er way ‘round an engine? Tie ‘er down ‘fore someone else does.” Todd sent you a wink and you blew a kiss back at him. “C’mon then, gotta fix yer bike ‘fore I tackle this hunk o’ metal. Unless missy mechanic over ‘ere would like to do the honours?” he raised a brow and you held up your hands to decline. 

“Cars I can do. Bikes are totally foreign to me, so you lead the way,” you gestured for him to head to the barn, which he did but not before offering you a chivalrous bow. You rolled your eyes as he turned away, falling into step next to Logan who slipped a hand to your waist. You elbowed him slightly. “See? I’m a keeper.” you shot him a shit-eating grin and he pursed his lips in a feeble attempt to suppress his smile.

“‘M stuck with you either way,” he shrug in mock nonchalance, and you poked his ribs.

“You like being stuck with me.”

“Shut up.” He breathed, smothering your face into the crook of his arm, muffling your maniacal cackles as the two of you followed Todd into the barn, watching as he pulled off the tarp sheltering the bike from any leaks in the roof. 

“You’ve done ‘er up somethin’ great, Logan. Lookin’ good as new.” Todd patted the back fender the same way you would a horse you were proud of. Logan just grunted in acknowledgement, being truly terrible at receiving compliments. 

“Think we can get her up and runnin’ today?” Logan asked, glancing as once again your eyes lit up. It had been since months ago since he promised to take you out on that date, and he wanted to stay true to his word. Todd nodded thoughtfully as if contemplating how realistic that was.

“We can certainly give it a go. If you an’ the missus wanna change those spark plugs I can start on replacin’ this break calliper and we can go from there.” You suppressed a grin at being referred to as Logan’s ‘missus’, a giddy spark pepped up your step as Todd tossed the ziplock bag to Logan who caught it in one hand. 

“Sounds good. Absolutely no way I’m leavin’ you two alone together.” You snorted a laugh at Logan’s slight grumble, sending Todd a flirtatious wave as he steered you back out of the barn and towards the pickup. “Unbelievable…” he shook his head fondly as you all but skipped over to the hood of the car, removing what Logan only now realised was his jacket and rolling up the shirt sleeves of his flannel. Not that he was about to complain, but he must have been too caught up in your cunt earlier to notice.

Leaning into the hood of the truck, you peered around the side of the engine, finding the six plugs you needed to change. With deft fingertips you twisted the wire boot of the first plug instead of just yanking it free, a trick you’d picked up when you’d…

Oh yeah. That never happened. A trick they’d planted in your brain, you guessed. You extended a hand out behind you, barely needing to open your mouth before the socket spanner was placed firmly in your grasp. You looked over your shoulder at Logan who’d returned to leaning against the large pile of wood to his right, smirking shamelessly at your ass as you bent over the engine. You grinned, making a show of rolling your eyes, before returning back to the task at hand, unscrewing the first spark plug from the well. Discarding the old part to the floor, you accumulated a small pile of six faulty plugs when you’d removed them all.

Stepping back from inside the hood, you wiped a small bead of sweat from your brow with your oil-slicked hand, leaving a dark smudge just above your eyebrow. Logan handed you the ziplock bag, his smirk ceaseless. “I ain’t gonna pretend this isn’t the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.” He shrugged when you sent him a questioning look before bubbles of laughter rose from your chest.

“Now look who’s the freak.” You shot back with an equally wicked smirk, before eyeing up the toolbox to his left. “You got a torque wrench in there? Todd might have one actually–”

“Todd is not seein’ you like this, he’ll lose his damn mind. The man already worships the ground at your feet.” Logan rifled quickly through the toolbox as if speed would prevent you from heading back up to the barn and giving the poor mechanic a love-induced heart attack. 

“And why shouldn’t he? I’m a keeper, dontcha know?” You responded haughtily, raising your chin with a dignity you couldn’t possibly hope to possess with your face smudged with engine oil. Logan barked a laugh, tossing you the torque wrench from the box and watching as you returned to your mission, fitting the new plugs in the wells and using the torque when you couldn’t tighten the screw any further with your fingers.

Logan slotted his hands in the dip of your waist, his front pressed against your back as he bent over you, teeth catching the sensitive skin behind your ear. “You’re a keeper, sweetheart. And you’re mine.” his breath fanned your ear as he growled lowly, the outline of his hard cock grinding against the seam of your ass as his hands pulled you against him slightly. 

You gasped airily, teeth clamping down on your lower lip. “You been hard this whole time?” You asked, struggling to focus on fitting the remaining plugs as he trailed one of his hands down your front and between your thighs. He just released a gravelly moan in response as you pushed back into his crotch, moving your hips in a slow circle. Logan bucked with a sharp gasp, nipping at your earlobe. 

“Not my fault. I got this gorgeous new mechanic. She’s hot as fuck and you wanna know the best thing about her?” Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as he rubbed your clit over your jeans, eyes fluttering closed as a smile split your mouth.

“What would that be?”

Logan inhaled your scent, a mixture of engine oil, wood smoke and sweet arousal, his fingers tightening on your waist. “She lets me do whatever I want to her after she changes my spark plugs.” It was a blackened promise filled with swirling lust, sucking the vow of pleasure into a bruise on the side of your neck before withdrawing completely to lean back against the stack of firewood, giving the both of you room to catch your breath.

You had to shake your head of the daze he’d left you in before you could continue, agile fingers reconnecting the ignition leads before you stepped away from the hood completely, swiping at your cheek with your forefinger and leaving yet another dark, greasy smudge. 

“The oil still needs changing but at least we won’t be getting anymore misfires. At least, we shouldn’t.” You wiped your hands on the dirty rag still draped over his shoulder and he licked his thumb, rubbing at the dark smudge above your brow but to now avail. You waved him off, ducking out from his fussing with a look of irritation. “Alright, Dad, I’ll clean myself up later, Christ.” You folded your arms across your chest, before remembering exactly why he wanted to get rid of the smudges, and snorting a laugh. 

“His blood is on your hands if he keels over at the sight of you.” Logan shrugged just as Todd emerged from the barn, wheeling the good-as-new bike along with him.

“A’ight Logan, she should be all ready for ya. Though I’d take ‘er steady to start, I don’t–” The man stopped the second his eyes shifted to you, and he clutched his heart dramatically. “Oh my lord this is it, I’ve seen the light! An angel! Here! Standin’ before me!” He sank to his knees and you chuckled madly, Logan shaking his head in disappointment. “Oh, nope, beggin’ yer pardon. It’s just yer girl.” Todd stood, dusting off his knees and sending you yet another wink, clearly having heard Logan’s comment. “Well, that’s me all finished up then. Comes to around fifty dollars.”

You and Logan exchanged a glance of knowing. You were both well aware Todd had been giving you both discounted prices. Hell, just getting the spark plugs replaced was around eighty, and he was only charging you fifty for both the plugs and the brake calliper? You and Logan had prepared for this moment. He gave you a subtle nod, and you pranced forward, hooking your arm around Todd’s shoulders. A perfect distraction. Logan stepped up behind the two of you silently, slipping the extra hundred-and-twenty into Todd’s pocket, listening to you ask about the difference in performance between the firing cylinders on a V6 and a V8 engine and not really listening to the answer. 

“Well, I think that’s everything, right Lo’?” You asked and he confirmed with a brief nod as you pat Todd’s shoulder once, letting Logan take the lead and make a show out of counting out fifty dollars from his wallet. You left them to it, folding away the prop for the truck hood and slamming it shut, giving the side a gentle pat. The pickup really had served you well for the last six months, and you couldn’t quite bring yourself to either consider getting a replacement car. You’d grown kind of attached to it, developing a taste for the more rugged things in life. 

You couldn’t help but look over at Logan alongside the thought. Rugged things indeed. You leaned against the car door as the two men made their way back over to you, and your ears picked up on their ongoing conversation as Logan stopped by your side. 

“She’s a gem, Logan. Fuck knows how yer ugly mug managed to bag ‘er, but you look after ‘er, ya hear me?” Todd jammed a finger towards his aforementioned ‘ugly mug’  in an empty threat.

“Loud ‘n clear, Todd.” He sent the man a false salute, settling an arm around your shoulder and you instantly leaned into his side. Todd took both your hands in his own and Logan fought the urge to laugh. 

“An’ if this one ever pisses y’off, you know where t’ find me.” He grinned and you chuckled heartily.

“You’ll be the first one to know.” You responded with such conviction Logan had to double take, though your partially imperceptible smile eluded to your sarcasm. You were incredibly good at that. At saying the very thing people wanted to hear. You were also incredibly good at saying the opposite of what people wanted to hear, one too many bar fights started because some handsy asshole decided you were a prime target. If it didn’t piss him off so much, he’d sit back and watch as you both verbally and occasionally physically beat a motherfucker down.

But unfortunately, handsy motherfuckers at bars did piss him off. Monumentally. And though he rarely threw the first punch, he would always throw the second. You didn’t need defending. He knew that. But that didn’t mean he was going to stop.

“Right. Well, I’ll see you both soon then. Best’ve luck with the bike, and my door’s always open for the both of yous, whatever ya need.” He nodded as you both waved him goodbye, standing in the driveway until he disappeared down the track and past the treeline. You hummed a contented smile.

“You’re gonna get a really angry text later, you know that. How much did you slip him?” You asked, stretching your arms high above your head and checking Logan’s watch on his wrist. The time had just gone midday, the sun still casting speckled shadows through the canopy. 

“One-twenty. Brake callipers aren’t particularly cheap.” He admired the way your arms flexed as you stretched, that bruise he’d sucked into your neck blossoming a dark purple. He needed to control himself if he wanted to make good on his promise to you six months ago. “Fancy a drive?”

You spun round to him, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ll get my boots!”

Biting wind whipped your unbound hair, exhilaration flooding your system as you clung to Logan’s leather jacket, your cheek resting against his spine. True to his word, he’d taken you out for the day on the back of the bike, finding a secluded, forested cliffside for the two of you to perch on. It wasn’t quite the lakeside romance he’d planned for you before, but it still worked to perfection, watching the clouds pass by overhead, the view a palette of every shade of red, orange and yellow, trees igniting as the sun began to sink low in the sky, faded the bright blue to a softer pale pink as the daylight descended into twilight. 

His hand secured your arm around his middle, caressing the sleeve of your jacket with his thumb with soothing swipes. Glancing over his shoulder, Logan smiled to himself as you nestled closer into his back, your arms tightening around his waist. One of your hands spread up his chest and over his heart, something he’d noticed you started doing absently, subconsciously. His soul sang along with the warmth you brought.

“Y’okay back there?” he called over his shoulder, returning to face the road. He felt you shift in what he could discern was a nod of your head, patting his abs twice.

“Perfect!” he caught your response over the roar of the engine and the whistle of the wind in his ears. Though you sounded alright, something had been off about you. You covered it well, playing around with Todd, nestling into his embrace as you watched the setting sun, but Logan had been seeing that faraway look on your face more often recently. 

It started around a week ago when you were looking for a new book to read after finishing your old one. You were sifting through the bookcase, carefully removing old sketchbooks the two of you had filled and grainy photographs taken on a digital camera when Logan heard you stop abruptly. He’d been oiling a baking dish when eerie silence greeted his ears, and by the time you returned back down the stairs, that vacant look had returned to your eye, the shitty romance novel clutched in your hands.

He’d asked if you were alright, but you waved off his concern with a huffed laugh of dismissal. Though Logan could see it, he didn’t press you. You’d talk about it when you were ready. You always did. 

Turning off the tarmac and down the track to the cabin, Logan took your hand over his heart in his own and dipped down to press a kiss to the top of your knuckles. He was rewarded with a squeeze of your fingers, kicking down the footstand as he parked up next to the truck. He couldn’t smell any rain on the air tonight, so he was happy to leave the bike out and just cover it with the tarp from the barn. 

Swinging your leg over the back of the bike, you cupped the side of his furry jaw, stooping to mould your lips to his grateful kiss, your warm smile infectious. Logan sighed into your mouth, his hands tugging you closer by the waist until you stood between his knee and the bike. His palm moved to the back of your thigh as you swiped your tongue along the seam of his parted lips, your taste sweet honey on his tongue whilst he pulled you onto his lap, two steadying hands braced on the dips of your waist.

“‘M gonna fuck you on this bike… wanted to do it since I first saw the thing,” you breathed against his cheek before dipping below his jaw, suckling little nibbles against his skin. Logan groaned lowly. You’d been teasing him all damn day,  from the way he ate you out that morning to the way he ground against your ass when you were changing the spark plugs. His cock twitched as he let himself hope he would finally find the relief he needed deep within your cunt. 

You rolled your hips against his growing erection as he sat more deeply in the saddle, your legs perched daintily on the foot pegs on either side of his calves. Nimble fingers fiddled with the front of his thick belt, unlacing the buckle from the loop and pulling the two halves aside. Logan growled at your urgency, appreciating the swift tug of his zipper, your fingertips ghosting along the waistband of his briefs, causing his skin to prickle in anticipation. Scratching through the happy trail leading down beneath the elastic, you bit down into his throat, drawing a gasp from his chest. 

He could do nothing but hold you tight as your hand finally sank beneath his briefs, curious fingers circling around the shaft of his cock and tightening your grip. His eyes screwed shut when you circled his sensitive tip with your thumb, his mouth falling open with heavy pants, his hips bucking up into your soft palm. Your nails clawed against the nape of his neck as he pushed you from his throat, turning the tide and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh behind your ear, licking and biting at the same bruise he’d left there earlier. You whimpered against him, and the scent of your arousal teased his nose. 

You tugged his hard cock from his briefs, shoving the fabric down as far ar you could. Logan shivered slightly, the cold air caressing his raging length as you released him to fiddle with the buttons and zipper of your jeans. 

Too long. It would take too long. Logan needed to be inside you yesterday. With a heated hiss, he slid his middle claw from his knuckle, using his other hand to grip both your wrists. “Stay still…” he murmured, bracing the tip of his claw over the clothed apex of your thighs. You gasped, promptly sandwiching your lower lip between your teeth when the ripping of fabric caused your gut to churn. Logan’s nose twitched as your quaking cunt gushed to soak the crotch of your underwear, and you both looked down, equally as surprised at your reaction. 

“Yeah?” he queried with a raised brow, ever-so-softly dragging his claw down the inside of your thigh. You pitched an airy whine, tugging tightly at the hair on the back of his head. To see you like this, gaping and breathless because of his claws did something wicked to him. Instruments that had previously only been used for death had suddenly become something so much more, gifting you with sharp peaks of pleasure when he dragged the back of it over your throbbing clit. 

You nodded desperately, breathing hard through your nose when he hooked that same sharp claw around the waistband of your underwear, slicing clean through the fabric and exposing your pulsing cunt. “Fuck…” you breathed as he retracted the silver claw, giggling slightly when he lifted you against him, pausing to tease your dripping entrance with the head of his cock. 

“‘course you get off on knives…” he muttered, smirking wildly as you attempted to sink onto his cock, using your weight to push down on the hands holding you aloft. You groaned in frustration, dragging a wicked chuckle from his throat, before he slowly pulled you down, humming a low moan as your tight walls welcomed his thick shaft. 

“Should… should do that again… sometime.” You panted into his mouth, barely able to form your words as you slowly roll your hips against him, earning yourself a gravelly grunt along with your movements. “So fucking hot.” You gasped as he thrust up into you, using the bike’s suspension to bounce you slightly as you clung to him, your fingers buried in his hair.

Logan looked down to where he rhythmically disappeared up into you, his breath hitching as you took one of his hands from around your waist and pressed your fingers into his knuckles, right where the slight hurt of his claw healed over. His cock twitched as you massaged his knuckles gently, finding just the right spot between each bone where his claws usually split. He couldn’t help the way his jaw fell open, his eyes rolling when you lifted his hand to your mouth and tongued one of the three surprisingly sensitive skin. 

“Fuck… Fuck! D’do that again…” Logan fucking stuttered as you repeated the motion with your tongue the very same way he would when he ate you out. Pleasure surged through his veins at the newfound discovery of the erogenous zone, thrusting up into you deliciously and causing you to bite down at the bone of his knuckle as the tip of his cock brushed against that patch of ecstasy inside you. 

You held his gaze as you made a show of dipping your tongue in the slits between his knuckles, closing your lips around the skin and sucking the same way you would against his cock. Logan furiously drove into you, still holding your waist with his one hand whilst you lavished the other. Eight months he’d been seeing you, and not once in that entire time had he ever come before you with his cock inside you, always taking extra care to make sure you hit your high at least once before he found his own. But with the liquid heat pulsing in his veins, he didn’t know if he could last.

He was thankful when your other hand left his wrist, skirting down beneath the waistband of your torn jeans to play with your own clit, throwing your head to the sky as the building pleasure wracked your body, only to bring his knuckles back to your lips. 

Your walls clenched tightly around his thrusting cock, deft fingers toying with your own pearl when your thighs started to shake, your whimpers and moans climbing in pitch, the vibrations of your voice tingling against the skin of his hand. 

Logan felt his own high cresting, his back tensing as his balls drew up, trying in vain to hold your failing gaze. Watching your eyes roll back into your skull was his undoing, feeling you coating his cock as you came around him, your teeth sinking into those little patches of pure pleasure shoving him over the edge of tension and into the honey-coated lightning storm of ecstasy. He cried your name, sharp pulses of fire shaking his system as he exploded inside you, coating your inner walls white.

Your brows pinched, mouth forming a perfect O as you struck your peak, his aphrodisiac cries of your name pulling you under as you simultaneously came with each other. You’d never felt him come so hard, and through your pleasure-addled brain, you assumed it was the result of being so pent up all day. Logan clung to you like a lifeline, nestling his face against the nook of your neck as he continued to twitch inside you, those overwhelming waves finally receding until he was basking in the full afterglow.

You panted hard, finally releasing his hand to grab at his shoulders, anchoring yourself against him to recover from just how hard your release had wrecked your body, barely able to laugh breathlessly and in utter disbelief into the little peaks of his hair. Logan grit his teeth together as you lift yourself off him to sit back on his sturdy thighs. How you managed to absolutely wreck him every goddamn time he didn’t know, but at least he’d been working on his self-control, and his claws didn’t slice your mouth open.

“That was fuckin’ dangerous…” he murmured, swiping his thumb along your lower lip. “Coulda hurt ya.” His brows pinched with genuine concern and you pressed your forefinger into the creases between them, easing his worries.

“How have we waited until now to use your claws? Such a good idea!” You were way too enthusiastic about that, and Logan simply huffed a laugh, looking up at you through dark lashes. 

“Not a good idea. Sure it was good today–”

“Logan it was fucking great today–” he clamped a hand over your mouth, silencing your protests. 

“But I can’t guarantee I’m always gonna have that kind of control. I could’ve done some real damage.” He knew reprimanding you was going to do absolutely nothing. Not when it had felt so fucking good, and you’d seen and felt what it had done to him. “Where’d you even get that idea?” He asked as you giggled a little mischievously, swinging your legs back over the bike and shimmying a little as you felt him drip from your cunt. Logan snorted as you squirmed awkwardly, tucking himself back in his briefs, not bothering to re-buckle his belt before scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal-style to the cabin.

“Just came to me in the moment. I’m sensitive around my scars, so I guess it made sense to me that you would be as well. Or rather, if scars could be left on your body.” You shrugged, your arms looping loosely around his neck, your head resting against his shoulder as you reached into his pocket for the key, inserting the metal into the lock. 

Logan nodded in understanding as if your explanation made sense. And, in a way, it did. You were sensitive around your scars. He knew that better than anyone. At any point he wanted to distract you from something, all he needed was to nip at the mark on your neck, swipe his thumb against any of the four bullet wounds on your chest, or even pinch lightly at the one on your inner thigh, and you’d throw your head back with a breathy gasp.

So it checked out that, if scars could be left on his body, he’d react similarly. Which he had done. 

You tossed the keys into the bowl on the kitchen windowsill as Logan carried you through the cabin and up the stairs. You couldn’t pretend you weren’t enjoying the treatment, and at the very least it was preventing his cum from dripping uncomfortably down your leg. 

Laying you on the bed, he pressed a sweet kiss to the top of your brow, before disappearing into the ensuite. “Why aren’t you pregnant yet?”

You choked on your spit, half laughing half coughing at his question as he returned to you with a warm, damp towel clutched in his hands. “Come again?” you asked, still in recovery.

“We’ve been fucking, unprotected, for months now, and you still regularly get your period. Sure, you’re ovulating at the moment–”

“Logan!?” You gaped, kicking him lightly with the side of your foot as he cleaned you up, tossing the towel to the side and innocently dragging down your ruined jeans.

“But I’m just curious. Surely something woulda happened by now, even just a scare,” he pulled open your drawer, rummaging around until he recovered your favourite dark grey sweatpants.

“You got a point. Maybe it’s my mutation? I guess my body sorta resets itself every time I shadow walk, almost like a default state,” You shrugged, sitting up as he handed you the pair of trousers to replace the ones he’d ripped. “I guess if we wanna know then we could always just…” You trailed off and Logan turned from where he was changing his own clothes, comfy loungewear pulled up to his waist. 

Following your line of sight, Logan’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He knew where you were looking, and if he was being truly honest with himself, he knew what you’d found a week ago. He wasn’t blind. The first month settling into the cabin, you’d cast fleeting glances at the bookcase where the folder was nestled, and he didn’t know whether you thought he wouldn't notice, but he did. 

The months went by and you didn’t quite forget about it, but you learned to live with it. Until a week ago, when you were searching for a new book to read. Logan didn’t know if you were ready. Shit, he didn’t know if he was ready. He’d only scanned a few pages of the file and he was truly terrified of what he’d discover if he’d looked at the pages in more detail. 

His blood turned to ice as you stood, approaching the shelving as if it would lash out and bite you. Steeling your nerves, you reached behind the first layer of books, parting them slightly as you retrieved the thick folder detailing every day of your life. Every horror you endured, every agonised second. You inhaled a shaky breath, returning to the bed and setting it down. 

NLMO. Subject Eight. “Phantom”.

Logan slowly came to sit by your side, taking your hand in his own, a silent gesture to remind you he was here. You looked up from the file, uncertainty swirling in your irises.

“I have to…” you whispered, trembling slightly as you went to open the folder, only for Logan to stop you.

“No. You don’t. You’re safe here. Nothin’ can get to you, sweetheart. Only do this if you want to, not because you feel like you have to.” You squeezed his hand, gaze flickering from the sincerity in his face to the handwriting on the documents containing who you were.

“I do have to do this, but I have to do this for me. Not for anyone else. I still have so many questions, Lo’. I don’t understand why Rowan is still there and I’m here. I need to know what happened. To all of us.” You spoke with such conviction, that Logan knew you’d made up your mind. Covering your hand positioned at the corner of the folder, he nodded.

“Alright then. We do this. Together.”

“You don’t have t–”

“I promised you I wouldn’t leave you whilst my heart was still beating, yeah? Do I look dead to you?” You snorted a laugh, shifting to lie on your front. Logan waited until you settled yourself before he too shuffled about, lying almost on top of you so his cheek was practically pressed against your own.

“Dead gorgeous maybe.” You grinned, and he pinched your waist, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Just open the fuckin’ folder, freak.”

You turned your attention back to your past, once again inhaling a long, shaky breath. “Ready?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. 

Logan nodded once in response. “Ready.” And the two of you turned the first page to your past.

For the some of the part, the documents within were mundane. It was incredibly creepy to start off with, knowing every moment of the life you remembered was being observed and written down, but it quickly became more of a story and less of a recounting. Logan would often crinkle his nose in confusion. “Wait, which one’s Subject Three again?” He’d ask, to which you’d respond with a sigh and a long look. “That’s Joseph, or Janus. He can teleport. Kinda like Kurt but less smoky.” And he would raise his head with understanding, before continuing to read in silence. 

You were okay for the first few pages, Ex.3 shook you up a little, reading about a memory you simply don’t have where they pushed your mutation to the limit alongside your bother. Deprivation and indulgence indeed. You took deep breaths through the surge of anxiety, Logan holding you close to him, asking softly if you needed anything. You just shook your head. You were fine. There were worse things to come. If you couldn’t handle this, how would you be okay with everything else?

The first big obstacle arose in 1944. The day was usual, you’d woken up, made breakfast with Rowa, and visited Jade, before they took you out for experimentation. It was the shift at Shots Shack. The one where you’d been flirted with all night and ended up fucking one of the customers in the bin shed.

Except, that’s not what happened at all. It was an accident. The result of a guard getting far too handsy with you. You’d fought him off as much as you could, but Subject One hadn’t restored your memories yet, so your mutation was at its baseline. You clenched your jaw as you kept reading, nausea roiling in your gut as Kreva detailed his observations, from your agonised screams for him to stop to the way you couldn’t stop shaking after he was done. You could barely stomach another sentence before a particularly vivid description of what was left behind had you detangling from Logan’s arms, racing to the bathroom and throwing up the contents of your stomach. You were kept under extreme observation after the incident. Not to make sure you were alright, but to look out for any signs of fucking pregnancy.

Logan had to suppress his burning hatred, not finding enough justice in knowing that the guard was let go from his position. He should be torn to fucking pieces for what he did. But flying off the handle wouldn’t help you. He followed you to the bathroom, gathering your hair in his hands as you convulsed over the toilet seat, the acidic stench of pure bile burning his nose. 

It was a fairly fond memory, what supposedly happened that night, only now for it to be tainted forever by the truth of what really happened. Your gasp echoed into the toilet bowl as you wretched again, your skin itching as if you hadn’t washed in days. 

“What’d you need?” Logan asked, gently scratching down your spine as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your weak response of “Shower…” Had him moving instantly, opening the window before turning the dial of the shower, letting it warm before he helped you to your feet. 

“Where d’you need me?” He asked as you swallowed hard, clinging to his arm.

“Here.” You whispered, before slowly removing your clothes. Logan helped you out of your sweater, leaving you to pull down your own sweatpants unlike what had been written in the folder, before he guided you into the steam. Stripping himself of his own clothes, Logan stepped in after you, his heart breaking in two as you instantly sought his embrace.

He held you beneath the warm water until he completely lost track of time, your face nestled beneath his chin, his thumb slowly caressing up and down your spine. Occasionally your shoulders would spasm with a stifled sob, and he’d whisper sweet nothings into the top of your head. You were safe with him. He was going to look after you. He’d never let them find you again. 

Despite having read your previous experiences, his hands on your body felt clean. Pure. Nothing about Logan was tainted in the same way that memory was. You nuzzled your nose further into the hair on his chest, feeling the aura of comfort wrap around your heart. He had you. He wasn’t letting you go. 

Promises and vows drowned by the hum of water left his lips until you took a deep breath, stepping back from his embrace and meeting his gaze with newfound determination. You were okay. You’d be okay. Reaching behind him, Logan turned the dial for the water pressure until it was off completely, barely separating far enough from you that you could wrap a fluffy, heated town around your shoulder before he was stuck to your back again like a limpet. You weren’t complaining. It was absolutely what you needed right now. His presence. His touch. Knowing he wasn’t going to leave your side no matter what. No matter how broken your past, or how ruined you may be. He’d be by your side through all of it. 

Logan kissed the top of your head, stepping ahead of you to snap the folder closed and shove it somewhere out of sight, but you stopped him before he could. 

“I’m okay…” you murmured, loosening your grip on his forearm a little. He tensed his jaw, looking between you and the file. The mere fact that you were alright to continue was a testament to your courage. If he was being honest with himself, Logan didn’t know how much more he could read before it was you holding his hair back. And you giggled as he said just that. “Big baby.” You teased lightly, threading your fingers through his dark strands, swiping the damp back from his brow. 

“‘Scuze me if I’m not exactly thrilled to read all the agony they put the love of my life through…” he admitted with a soft huff, unable to meet your gaze as your eyes lit up. You rose to your tiptoes, moulding your lips against his in a soft, reassuring kiss, before pulling back. You chose not to mention it, how he’d never said anything like that to you in the last eight months you’d been together. You chose not to pinpoint the moment of vulnerability, opting instead to let his words settle in your heart. 

You didn’t know the time and honestly didn’t want to. Making yourselves two cups of tea, you returned back to the folder on the bed, once again getting comfortable. “Well. That was fucking harrowing…” you commented flatly as if you’d read something in the news, and Logan grunted in agreement, raising his fresh mug of tea to his mouth. He’d never been a tea drinker in the past, but living with you had turned him to all kinds of interesting new habits. “Ready for more…?” you asked with a wry smile to mask your nerves. He shot you an exhausted look but nodded nonetheless as you flipped through the papers to return to the one you’d had to leave. “Yeah no okay we don’t need to continue that one, we get the gist of it…” you turned the page hurriedly, smoothing out the paper as you pushed the contents behind you.

Year by year you kept reading, huffing little laughs as Kreva noted down everything NLMO got up to. From stealing some man’s car in the 1950s to graffitiing a wall with a penis in the 1980s. And whilst you knew your entire life was a simulation, it was almost gratifying to see that half of the things you remembered really did happen. You really did cook food with your brother. You really did hang out with Jade, or Kaleidoscope, every day. Erin, or Wood-Nymph, really did teach you how to grow plants effectively. You used to sit with Morgana, or Sanguine, and sketch together. Atlas, or Harmony, used his mutation to heal you up every time you ‘got into a fight’. You refused to refer to them by their numbers, just as you would refuse to refer to yourself that way too. 

Logan wasn’t expecting the moments of peace within the file. He’d only skimmed a few pages back in the med bay and hadn’t picked it up since, so he was pleasantly surprised every time you chuckled lightly at your old shenanigans. You would offer small anecdotes of what you remembered, providing further context to what he was reading. 

It broke him apart, however, when you went quiet. When you’d turn the page and be faced with the reality of what was happening to you. Psychological torture to test your mind’s durability. Scans and tests that had you screaming in pain as they injected you with various drugs, just to see how your mutation would react, if at all. These were the moments when Logan would hold you tighter against his side, eyes flickering from the pages to your face to guage where you were mentally. 

1962, your mouth fell open as you scanned down the experiment report. They were helping you develop your mutation. Logan too pinched his brows in confusion. You’d been able to call the shadows at will, conjuring various objects, weapons, and appendages without a sweat. “Wh– How?” you muttered to yourself, flipping back through the pages you’d already read as if to find some kind of answer. Logan stilled your hand, his eyes scanning furiously down the log before pointing to a paragraph roughly a quarter of the way down the page.

“There.”

Sub.8 only seems to access its mutation after we use Sub.1 to refocus its brain. Whereas 5 had access to its full range of powers at all times, 8 shows signs of regression when 1 replaces its memories. To combat this, I have 1 reassemble only the memories it needs to regain full control and access to its mutation. The reasons for this are, as of right now, unclear. However, it is suspected that, though subconscious, 5 retains muscle memory of utilisation. It could be that 8 is so resilient because it simply forgets even on a subconscious level. Further investigation is needed to yield an answer.

You rolled your eyes, muttering a sarcastic “Oh, very helpful.” Before you continued flipping through the pages.

Spending the next day in bed, Logan was up and down the stairs, mainly to stretch his legs every now and then, but also to grab snacks and drinks before falling back down next to you on the bed, offering you a bite of whatever he’d snatched. You’d continue reading the document in front of you, absently opening your mouth before sinking your teeth into what you learned was a block of cheese. Only then did you look away from the text, shooting him a look of bafflement. 

“An entire block of cheese?”

“‘M hungry.” He shrugged defensively, and you snorted a laugh, shaking your head as you returned to the words before you.

Logan didn’t know how you did it. He’d seen you sit for hours, with a nose buried in a book, but this was on another level. In the last twenty hours, he thinks he saw you get up and stretch once, head to the bathroom maybe three times, and take a roughly two-hour power nap. He, on the other hand, had to stand every hour or so, his legs feeling like dead weights if he lay down for much longer than that. The stacks of pages evened out slowly before finally, the read side looked far larger than the to-read side. 

Setting down another mug of sweetened coffee on your nightstand, a new secret recipe of espresso mixed with hot chocolate, Logan lay back down next to you, skim-reading the rest of the page where he’d left off before you turned it over. It was how he forced you to give your eyes a break. You couldn’t continue until he’d finished the page you shared, and you only looked away when you’d reached the bottom and he’d stood up to go somewhere. 

You’d reached 2013 now, only seven years ago, and the two of you were coming to the end of the folder. Flipping over the final page, you were met with penmanship rather than the typeface you’d become used to. Glancing to Logan, he returned your look of trepidation, before you started to read it aloud. 

6th April, 2013. Fuck fuck FUCK! He’s let them all fucking go. FUCK! I barely managed to save their folders before the stupid bastard blew up the whole FUCKING FACILITY! I don’t know how he managed to get 1 to alter their memories without coercing it, but they’ve all scattered across the fucking country. We need to start rebuilding. We need to get them back. Now. We cannot let this research go to waste. They need to be understood. If we are to create an army of these mutants, we need them to return and continue understanding their fundamentals. 5 was the easiest to manipulate, and 1 didn’t know how to run. I found it lying on the ground by the road. I will rebuild what he destroyed, I will find them all again. I’ll continue the work of my great-grandfather. But if anything should go wrong… I’ll have 5 eradicate all evidence. 

That was the last entry in your folder, and you wondered if any of the other seven had a similar log. Blowing out a long breath, you folded the file closed, turning to look at Logan as he seemed stuck in his head. A palm against his cheek, you turned him to look at you, tilting your head to the side in silently questioning.

“Hundred-and-five.” Was all he said, and you squinted in confusion.

“Hm?”

“That’s how old you are. At the start, it said you were sixteen. The first entry was in 1931, and the last entry was in 2013. Add the last seven years to that, and you’re hundred-and-five years old.” You stayed silent, attempting to wrap your head around his calculations. Over a century, you’d been alive. And eighty-two years of it was spent in a simulation, your memories being replaced almost daily. It was like your brain was a computer software they updated every ten years, making sure the background to your memories matched the decade. Fucking hell.

“Guess I can’t really make fun of you for your age anymore, huh…?” You smiled a little sadly, genuinely upset that half your jokes were now completely voided due to the fact you weren’t that much younger than him. You still didn’t know his age for sure, and neither did he. “But, looking on the bright side… at least I won’t grow old and grey whilst you look gorgeous forever.” You elbowed him softly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

If this was how you chose to cope with it, then Logan would be happy to go along with you. “You were worried ‘bout that?” he asked, raising a thick brow as you nodded.

“It crossed my mind, sure.” You shrugged, before kicking the folder to the floor, its once imposing presence in the room was now little more than an inconvenience taking up too much of the bed. The silence settled as you contemplated that last page. A mutant army. It didn’t seem possible. Who would be willing to join something like that? And why would any mutant fight for a human doctor? But you couldn’t shake your growing fear. And now he’d gathered whoever was left of NLMO, minus yourself and Jade. And since Jade was dead, you were the last on his list.

The thought didn’t scare you. You knew what you needed to do. And you were pretty sure Logan knew it too. 

“We need to get you back to Charles…” he whispered in defeat, being the braver of the two to actually voice what needed to happen. You needed your full mutation, and if the file was to be believed, the only way you could get it back, was if your memories were restored. Your real memories.

Closing your eyes, you tensed your jaw as you nodded in agreement, still too afraid to speak it into existence. Truth be told, you didn’t want your memories back. Whilst you weren’t exactly thrilled at what happened to you, it felt so far away, since you don’t remember living through any of it. “What if…” you started, trailing off almost immediately as you found the right words. “What if I’m not… me, anymore. If he can get them back, my memories… what if I’m different than I am now?” You asked timidly, avoiding looking anywhere near his face by fiddling with one of the tassels of his zipper hoodie.

Logan sighed through his nose, clasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger and raising your head so he could look you in the eye. Honestly, it scared him too, what those memories might do to you, but he also knew who you were. At your core. At the centre of your being. He knew exactly who and what you were. 

“You’ll be different, sure. But you’ll still be you,” he urged you to meet his gaze, adjusting his grip on your chin every time your eyes shifted from his own. “No matter what happens. No matter who or what you are after you remember, I’ll be right here.” His fingers shifted from your chin to your jaw, sandwiching your face between his calloused palms, his thumbs tracing the shadows beneath your eyes. 

Your head settled against his brow, simply feeling him close to you, whispering a quiet “Okay…” before he pressed a kiss of assurance to your lips. You smiled against him, your breath fanning his mouth and chin. 

“Glad I changed the spark plugs now… shame about the oil.” You chuckled slightly, and Logan rolled his eyes. 

“Think an oil change is the least of our concerns…” he mumbled, before you sat back, rubbing a tired hand down the side of your face. You looked exhausted, but then again, you always did. “Well, no time like the present, huh?” A rapid sigh flew from parted lips and you scrambled off the bed, pulling your rucksack out of the closet. Logan made to follow your lead, before halting as rhythmic, low vibrations hummed from the bedside drawer. His wry gaze slid to you, a brow raised in sly amusement. 

You held your hands up in innocence. “Don’t look at me! My drawer’s on that side! Plus it has an off switch, thank you!” You huffed, folding your arms across your chest. Logan’s brow furrowed in confusion, wrenching the drawer open, various different objects clattering around with the force, including his unused mobile phone. It was rudimentary, barely more modern than the Nokia Brick, sporting large thick buttons rather than a screen. What small screen it did have illuminated as Logan chuckled at the name, holding up the mobile so you could read it. 

TODD

You snorted a laugh, checking the time on the phone simultaneously. Had he really only found the sneaky money after almost two days? At two in the morning? “Told ya you’d receive an angry text or call!” You grinned triumphantly, Logan tossing the phone back down on the bed to let it ring out. He’d return his call on the road whenever you’d inevitably fallen asleep, and listen to whatever long-winded reprimanding he had coming his way. 

“Stay in the car…” he’d growled, his nose twitching as he sensed something wasn’t quite right. Your heart thundered in your throat as he opened his door, claws sliding from his knuckles, surveying the treelines on either side of the road. The air beyond the cab was quiet. Too quiet. And Logan angled his head to the sky, inhaling deeply before exhaling a threatening snarl. 

Something was very wrong. 

You linked your fingers through the handle of your door, pulling against the mechanism. Logan whipped to look at you through the driver’s side, his eyes wide and panicked as you shot him a look back. You weren’t fucking defenseless for Christ’s sake. You were a powerful mutant even without the whole scope of your abilities. 

You stepped out of the car despite his protests, waiting for something to happen the moment your feet touched the tarmac.

Silence.

You took a step forward.

Silence.

Casting a glance over to Logan, you watched as his chest heaved with adrenaline, and you didn’t fight the urge to cross the road with the intention of setting him at ease.

The second you were crossing the headlights, the dark road ahead exploded with light, shadows disappearing as a single gunshot rang out.

Logan’s world froze as blood exploded from your chest, spraying the hood and windshield of the pickup. A look of confusion tilted your head, before realisation dawned on your features and you staggered back, your breath strained in your throat as a dark line of crimson slid from the corner of your mouth. Pain wracked his chest as Logan roared, though his desperate attempts to get to you were in vain, finding his limbs sluggish and his brain hazy. 

Your knees gave out as you collapsed onto the road, splitting your head against the tarmac. This is why you haven’t left for six months. This was the exact reason why he’d kept you safe in the cabin. Logan supported himself against the truck, dragging his stubborn legs across the ground, his vision swimming. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. All you needed was a shadow and you’d be okay. He’d deal with the rest. He just needed to get his shadow within your reach. 

“The Wolverine. I’ve heard a lot about you.” A voice echoed around the trees lining the road, that pocket-sized sun moving closer to where you lay, gasping and bleeding, with no shadow to disintegrate into. “You’re extremely hard to get rid of. I never take Subject Two anywhere, yet here it was needed to keep you at bay. An impressive little mutant. It can manipulate blood cells. You see, right now, it’s slowed the beat of your heart to the point where you feel… drowsy? Sluggish? Exhausted? How’re you feeling right now?” He almost mocked, crouching down to where Logan had fallen to the floor, inches away from you. But the light had moved, his shadow now behind him and nowhere near where you needed it.

“Kreva.” He hissed, his claws slowly sliding from his knuckles and scratching along the tarmac. You gurgled weakly, making a subconscious reach for where Logan lay immobile, his eyes bloodshot. You’d read the file now. You knew all about NLMO and their individual mutations. Subject Two, Sanguine, could control and manipulate blood, whether it was her own or belonged to somebody, or something, else. And of course, that constant glow of sunlight belonged to Subject Five. Rowan. Solaris. Your brother. 

Your body itched as you bled out, begging for the haven of darkness to dissolve and reform, it was taking all of your strength to hold together those threads.

“It’s been cute, watching our Phantom domesticate the great Wolverine. But it couldn’t last. I still need it, unfortunately.” Dr.Kreva patted his hand against Logan’s arm as if in consolidate him, but it did nothing other than fuel his rage. Logan struggled against Sanguine, looking up at her shrouded face, eyes burning a deep red as she continued to manipulate his bloodstream. “Everyone step back!” Kreva called out, resulting in the team around him shuffling back a few feet.

“Don’t… don’t you– fuckin’ touch her!” Logan’s vision tunnelled slightly, barely managing to ground out his threat between clenched teeth. Kreva simply laughed with bitter condescending.

“Yes, I suppose I could let her bleed out. Though considering she’s been shot in the chest before and lived, I wonder how long it would take for her to actually die. Maybe that’ll be our last experiment. Whaddya say, Eight?” He bent over you, and you mustered up enough energy to spit a globule of blood into his face. He swiped at your crimson spit, cracking a hearty smile. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Subject Five, if you could.” Rowan moved behind Kreva, his shadow shrouding you in darkness and you fought the urge to dissolve into it, knowing that if you did, there would be nothing you could do. He had intimate knowledge of your mutation, he’d already prepared by bringing along your brother, let alone whatever else he’d had with him. You greet your blood-stained teeth, shivering as your body pleaded with you to let go. “You’ll give in, Eight. You always do. You tried this before. Not that you remember. Those scars on your wrists? You’ve tried this before and your body wouldn’t let you. So just give in…” He urged quietly, and you balled your fists, your nails digging harshly into the soft flesh of your palm. 

Your eyes slid to Logan a few feet away, his breath heaving in his chest, fear swirling in his wide hazel irises as he looked at you. 

“I will find you,” he grit, the tendons in his neck straining. “I promise. I will find you.”

You offered him a weary, bloody smile, and his heart broke as he saw the hope fade from your face. 

“I love you…” you barely managed a silent whisper, lingering just long enough to watch his whole world shatter through the windows to his soul, before you released the threads within your body, sinking into Kreva’s shadow. 

“Splendid,” Kreva clapped his hands together as if he’d done nothing but lit a fantastic barbecue. “Subject Five, you can stop now.” Like a switch had been flipped, the daylight glow resonating from your brother cut out, the torch beams from the truck headlights now the only remaining light. Logan clawed at the ground, his eyes lingering where he’d seen you last. You weren’t dead. He needed to remember that. You weren’t dead. But the way you spoke to him like it was the last time you were ever going to see him…

A cry of anguish worked its way up his throat, splitting the air as Kreva turned back to him like he’d just remembered he was there. “Oh, I know, hurts, doesn’t it? Let’s ease your pain for a while. Subject Two, if you’d be so kind.” 

Logan’s vision swam further, the pounding in his head growing to a crescendo as his heart rate slowed, knowing nothing more as his senses faded to black. 

It must have only been seconds of unconscious, the sky still shrouded in black clouds when he came to once again. Though Kreva was nowhere to be seen, a pool of crimson blood left behind where you once lay dying. 

You weren’t dead. You weren’t dead. 

Raising to his forearms, Logan shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind of the cobwebs, hazy memories dancing just out of his reach. Staggering to his feet, he craned his neck as the hum of a jet hovered overhead, recognising the Blackbird instantly, the sleek design blending in seamlessly with the sky above before the beams from the truck headlights illuminated the cockpit, steam hissing with pressure as the feet extended to the ground.

The engine was still whirring when Storm sprinted down the ramp toward him, her stark hair flowing behind her in the breeze she kicked up. Logan shook his head numbly as she approached, in answer to the question she had yet to ask. “Gone…” was all he could say, eyes sliding from Ororo to the bloodstain on the tarmac. Scott jogged up behind her, fingers braced at the side of his glasses before he stopped, seeing Logan’s expression.

There was a moment of understanding between the two men, Scott swallowing hard, Logan shaking his head still, slightly helpless before Scott stepped forward and firmly enveloped him in a tight embrace. 

“We’ll get her back, man. We will.” 

Logan’s breath shuddered as Scott drew back, keeping a hand firmly clasped atop his shoulder as Ororo looked between the two of them. “Kreva, right?” she asked rhetorically, though Logan nodded nonetheless.

“Yeah. Ambush. Had this freaky blood manipulator. I couldn’t fuckin’ get to her.” he bared his teeth, running a hand through his hair.

“How’d he even know where she was? Where were you headed?” Scott asked, continuously glancing around as if someone was eavesdropping on the conversation. But they’d gone. Kreva and his subjects had gone. 

And taken you with them.

“Headin’ back to you. We read the file. She needs her memories back if we want to use her mutation. I don’t have a clue how he knew. I just–”

The realisation struck Logan like a brick to the head, stopping abruptly as he absently removed his phone from his back pocket.

There, glaring in the low light, the sole reason for icy fury to flood his veins. There, the sole reason you weren’t by his side right now.

Logan gripped the phone in his palm, hearing the casing crack slightly as he read the text over and over, a name he thought he could trust. The only name he thought he could trust with you.

TODD:

Forgive me.

[rocketqueen1989x]

Hey babe.

Was wondering if you have any less known Axl and Izzy stories from the Lafayette days?

<3 your blog btw

HI LOVE! THANK YOU FOR ASKING THIS QUESTION :) you’re so sweet:3

yeah I have a few stories I’ve heard and seen of the internet. Mostly are of Axl btw. I could hardly find or have seen any of izzy.

Here are some that I know of or have seen on the internet that i remember :)

****

• Axl apparently used to go to Izzy’s house and sleep over sometimes and spend their nights listening to led zeppelin on the radio.

• Apparently Izzy took an interest in Axl and wanted him in his band. This was because he thought he was wild and crazy when he saw him running down the hallway and teachers were chasing after him.

•According to izzy, Axl didn’t get girls in high school due to him being a redhead and quite small at the time. But Izzy said he got girls after high school.

• Axl used to get bullied at school alot due to his hair colour by older kids. He once got stuffed in a locker. (This makes so sad)

•One of Axl’s old friends from school said his parents weren’t fond of Axl because he had a “loud mouth”

• Apparently Axl lost his virginity 17 or 18. ( I don’t know if this is 100% true so don’t hate in the comments)

• This one isn’t about Axl or Izzy … but Axl’s mother 😑. She was an art teacher in a school and if someone brought Axl or guns n roses up she would get pissed off and one time a kid wore a gnr shirt and she sent the student to the principals office 🤣🤣HAHAHAHAHAH (I find this hilarious)

• Axl was in cub scouts (idk but this is so cute to me 🥲)

• Axl apparently got arrested for underage drinking and so did one of his old friends. (idk the name of friend or if this 100% true)

•One of Axl’s classmates who he used to walk home with remember him having “a bad temper” and once got into a fight with an older guy who went to the same school as them (classic axl 😛)

•Apparently when Axl was in his mid teens his bad behaviour was getting worse. He would get sent to the principals office quite a lot. One person on Facebook claimed to of sat next to him in his math class and he said “He quiet at times and I sometimes talked him. He was cool ,but when he got pissed off there was no telling him. He had lots of fights in and also outside of school too” (now I believe this.100%🤣)

***

Btw please remember and keep in mind I found some these on the internet and some of what people have told me ,so idk if every single of these stories is true and accurate <3

So please no hate in the comments , thank you 🧡

[crooked-haven]

Ghost | Gally - tmr

➭ Pairing: Gally x Y/n (Female)

➭ Rating/Genre: Angst, Fluff

➭ Warning/Tags: Kissing, Reclaiming Intimacy, Established Relationship, Author's Pov

➭ Disclaimer: All actors are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are purely coincidental.

Also this is my story so please don't steal!

➭ By: Crooked-haven

Word Count: 740

The chaos of the ambush raged around her. Smoke billowed into the night sky, red flares bursting in the air like dying stars. Y/n ducked behind a scorched transport van, her chest heaving. Bullets and blasts echoed through the ruined WCKD compound like a storm trapped in a steel cage.

It had all gone to hell. Again.

“Y/n! Keep moving!” Brenda’s voice called from a few yards ahead, but Y/n didn’t budge. She was out of breath, her side bleeding from shrapnel. Everything in her body screamed to rest but she wasn’t done fighting. Not yet.

The attack had come out of nowhere, an ambush on their ambush. Their ragtag resistance team had been trying to infiltrate a WCKD lab to find the last remaining files on the cure, when masked soldiers with unknown allegiances had stormed in.

But one of them was different. One of them had saved her life. Twice. A towering figure in full black combat gear had slammed into her attacker like a freight train, tackling him into a wall and disarming him with brutal precision. He hadn’t said a word, only looked at her for one long, too familiar moment. Then he was gone again into the smoke.

Now, as Y/n limped through the crumbling hallway of the lab, gun in one hand and desperation in the other, she turned a corner and froze. Another explosion shook the corridor, and through the smoke, that same masked figure stepped out, dragging two unconscious WCKD guards by their collars. He tossed them like trash to the side, breathing heavily. Then…he turned to her.

Time stopped.

The figure walked toward her slowly, his tall frame moving with the same kind of tense determination she’d seen a thousand times before in the Maze. The way he moved. The tilt of his head. The stance. It sent electricity down her spine.

“W-Who are you?” She whispered, her voice trembling, she began to back up, wincing at her side, pressing hard against the wound to slow the bleeding down.

The man didn’t answer.

He reached up.

His gloved hands touched the straps of his gas mask, and pulled it off.

Her heart stopped.

His face emerged from behind the smoke and filters, older now, a little more taller, jaw sharper, eyes darker, but unmistakably him.

“…Gally?” She breathed.

His name fell from her lips like a ghost.

Like a prayer.

He took one slow step toward her, lips parting to speak but she was already moving. The gun in her hand hit the floor as she crashed into him, arms locking around his neck, the dam inside her finally shattering after four years of pain, of nightmares, of believing the boy she loved had died by Minho’s hand.

He caught her, staggering slightly from the force of her embrace. His arms wrapped around her like he couldn’t believe she was real, like letting go would kill him all over again. “I saw you die.” She sobbed into his chest, fists clenched in the fabric of his armor. “I saw you, God, Gally, I thought you were dead-“

“I almost was.” He rasped, voice low and rough with emotion. “But I couldn’t let it end like that. Not without seeing you again.” She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. They were wet, rimmed red, but locked on her like she was the only thing anchoring him to this world. “How?” she asked. “How are you here?”

“Long story. WCKD took me after the Maze. Made me into something else. But I got out. And when I heard you were alive…” He swallowed hard, jaw clenched. “I had to find you.”

Her hand rose to his face, fingertips brushing the faint scar along his brow, the same one he’d had before, now just a little more worn. He leaned into her touch. And then she kissed him.

It wasn’t pretty or poetic, it was desperate. Messy. Full of years of grief and love and fire. He kissed her like a drowning man clinging to air, and she kissed him like she’d waited four years to feel alive again. Behind them, the chaos raged on. But for that one moment, in the ruins of everything they’d lost, they found each other again.

Alive. Together.

ღ

A/n:

Thanks for reading!<3

[rocknrolldecadence]

hii, can you write something about reader being friends with benefits with early glam era Slash like drunk sex after or between sets at a gig, please and thank youuu

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

better than ever

hooking up with slash after a gig 😋😋

warnings: drunk sex (DONT DO THAT GUYS), drinking etc etc

a/n: soz i keep disappearing guys. this is lowk bad but it’s the longest fic i’ve ever written so far (954 words 🤯) so oh well

backstage was always your favourite place to be. sure, it was a trek to the bar if you wanted a drink, but there was something about staying backstage that just felt brilliant. it was calmer - the walls muffled the sound of whatever band was playing and there was no drunken crowd you had to be a part of if you wanted to enjoy the performance. being backstage allowed you to enjoy the night without all the hassle that normally came with listening to live music.

tonight, guns n roses were playing. well, not technically. they were opening for some glam rock band the sunset strip seemed to love, one you didn’t care to remember the name of. you’d read it on the bill as you walked into the bar, but didn’t pay it any attention, instead focusing on the small lettering that read ‘GUNS N ROSES’.

slash, guns’ lead guitarist, had invited you here. you had known him for a few months, and you had become friends with benefits. it worked perfectly for the both of you - you weren’t looking for a relationship right now, and neither was he. and the sex was great.

you traversed through the winding corridors of the venue’s backstage area until you found a dressing room with the names ‘slash’ and ‘duff mckagan’ written on a piece of paper stuck to the door. you knocked on the door and went in.

“hey guys!” you greeted the two men. duff was sat by the mirror, seemingly making some final adjustments to his makeup before going onstage. his hair was as tall as could be, the blonde mass teased and hairsprayed so much it was almost laughable. slash was standing in front of another mirror, just finished putting in a star-shaped dangly earring. he looked over at you and smiled.

“hey. you look good.” he said, looking you up and down. duff turned round in his chair, before doing the same and agreeing with slash.

“yous excited for the gig tonight?” you asked.

“it should be good,” slash replied, “i hope so, anyways.”

“what makes you say that?”

“do you not remember the last gig we played here? i don’t know *what* happened but i think it was the worst show we’ve ever played. i’m surprised they let us back again.” duff answered. his reply jogged your memory, and you started to remember just how bad that gig was. you giggled as you recalled the group’s drunkenness as they stumbled about on stage, barely able to play their instruments. they were nearly always drunk on stage, but something about that night must’ve just been… insane.

you chatted with them for a while before they had to go onstage. as they were leaving, slash pointed to a corner of the room you hadn’t noticed.

“take anything you want.”

he closed the door and you looked over to the corner where he had pointed. you don’t know how you didn’t notice it, considering it was stacked full with bottles of drink. every sort of hard liquor you could imagine was there - whisky, vodka, gin, etc. of course, there were mixers too. not to mention a few beers. ‘what a treat’ you thought to yourself as you reached for your favourite. you searched with your eyes for a glass but didn’t find anything. shrugging, you opened the bottle and drank straight from it.

and that was how you spent the next hour and a half, just drinking. you knew you shouldn’t, but when you had all that on offer for free, you couldn’t resist.

it was late when slash came back to the dressing room. he was drunk too, clearly having spent some time at the bar to celebrate the gig. he laughed as he came in, seeing you sprawled on the sofa with a bottle in hand.

“enjoying ourselves, are we?” he smirked, coming over to sit on the arm of the sofa.

“what? you gave me free reign.” you retorted.

“you drank those beers? warm?”

“they were nice.”

he laughed again.

you started asking him about the show. you’d been listening, but the audio was significantly damped by the dressing room’s door. it had been good, not the band’s best, but nothing went wrong.

“well, i’m glad you had a good time out there.”

suddenly, slash leaned in and kissed you. this was normal for you guys - a makeout session could spring out of nowhere. you kissed him back, setting your bottle of beer on the ground as you did so. you settled into his lap as the kiss intensified. soon, your hands were in slash’s hair, and his were roaming down your sides. then, he started to fiddle with the button of your jeans. you smirked, knowing what was about to come.

it must’ve been an hour or two you spent in that dressing room with slash, but it passed by so quick. it was relatively quiet, except for the sounds of your skin meeting his and moans & groans that came out of your mouths. like every time before, it felt like heaven. not to mention, since you were both drunk, it feel even better. every time you felt slash hit that deep point inside you, you were entering another dimension. you could barely take it anymore, but it felt too good to stop. it seemed like slash could last forever, as his steady (albeit drunken) thrusts continued.

when you both came, it felt amazing. you could almost cry as your high washed over you.

as slash pulled out, he asked you “was that good?”

“better than ever.”

[poppadom0912]

Mafia boyfriend

Warnings: Mentions of violence, guns, canon-typical injuries, mob/mafia typical behaviour

Summary: Your boyfriend isn't exactly how you described him to be.

A/N: I’m trying to get a bunch of writing done before the new academic year, so please do enjoy! This idea was so random but the concept is kinda fun so I thought why not. I know no Italian at all, everything is from google translate so I'm sorry for any inaccuracies. This writing and description is very stereotypical and very wattpad of me, I apologise in advance. 🙏

"So, are we ever going to meet your mysterious man?" Stella asked you while the four of you sat in the back of the ambulance having your weekly talk about anything and everything.

You laughed at her expecting face, along with the knowing glances Violet and Sylvie had. "He's just a really busy guy, taking over his dad's business takes a lot of time and not all of it is in Chicago so he's going back and forth from here to Italy."

"But he treats you good, right?" Violet asked seriously, wanting nothing more than for you to be with someone good.

"Oh he's amazing." You said whimsically, a soft smile settling on your lips at the thought of your boyfriend of one year that your family had yet to meet. "Hopefully he's back by Friday so you'll see him on Saturday for the barbeque."

"Oh I completely forgot about that." Sylvie frowned, confused as to how she forgot the yearly picnic that always took place. "What time does it start?"

"I have no idea." You shrugged. "I'll just show up whenever I'm ready."

"Wow, so organised." Stella complimented you sarcastically, ducking away from your hand when you were going to smack her.

"In my relationship, Enzo does all the planning." You mumbled with a slight pout as though trying to prove a point but it didn't work

"Mystery man does have a name!"

"Enzo sounds hot."

"Violet!"

*****

"Eeeee! You're here!" Violet squealed in pure joy as she practically sprinted towards you with her arms open, enveloping you in the biggest hug despite seeing you yesterday on shift. "About time, these lot are getting boring."

At her snide but playful comment, Gallo and Ritter started booing her from where she left them behind at their table with a few others from 51 who were drinking beers. You quickly waved at them and made a mental note to go and say hi to them.

"Oh Violet, I have someone I want you to meet." You eagerly smiled and the younger paramedic took note of your eyes sparkling which could only mean one thing.

Violet gasped, her arms dropping to her side as she did so in disbelief that this was finally happening. "Y/N, don't lie to me girl, my gentle heart can't take it."

You shook your head, smiling at the utter joy one of your friends had for a moment that lots of people don't consider that important. "Violet this is my boyfriend Enzo. Enzo, this is one of my best friends Violet."

With her award winning smile, Violet followed your line of sight and her brows rose in shock when she finally met the man you'd been dating for a little over a year now.

There was no doubt about it, he was an extremely attractive man but he was definitely out of his element. Unbeknownst to all of the CFD, the park was littered in bodyguards who had been held back from personally tailing their boss like they usually would.

Shaking off all her negative thoughts, Violet thought the best and held out her hand towards the attractive but intimidating man. "It's lovely to finally meet you after so long Enzo, I'm Violet."

"I've heard plenty of good things about you. It's a wonder we haven't met earlier." His voice was slightly accented, Violet remembered you saying he was Italian. His grip wasn't as hard as she thought and his tone actually softer than he looked, his words making the paramedic laugh.

"We've been nagging Y/N for so long to meet you but she's very convincing." You choked back a laugh at Violet's comment, lightly elbowing her in the gut. "Alright Vi, that's enough. Where's Stella and Sylvie?"

"Over there with Kelly and Matt."

It was comedic really, the sight of you and your boyfriend together was unbelievable. Despite being a firefighter, you were of very short stature and you were practically the embodiment of pure joy but with your boyfriend standing besides you, he was so much taller and wore all black smart ish attire with rings on two of his fingers.

It was like the typical grumpy and sunshine trope that people read about in books but this was real life. Violet almost couldn't believe you bagged yourself a man like him but in a good way.

"Y/N, hey girl!" Stella smiled, waving you over from besides Kelly as soon as she noticed you. Not only did she notice but so did three others that stood with her that a man was accompanying you, someone who was very out of his element. "Stop- is this the infamous Enzo?"

At your dimpled smile, Stella's smile widened as she fully turned to greet your boyfriend she'd been desperate to meet since you mentioned taking his number ages ago.

There was no denying you were ecstatic to be with him but something wasn't adding up and it seemed that she wasn't the only one suspicious.

Things weren't adding up and your family were dammed if they didn't find out what.

*****

Being shot at was nothing you weren't used to living in Chicago all your life. At this point, you'd become accustomed to it and you no longer feared it how you used to when you were a child.

However, it did scare you when in uniform and out on a call.

Following Casey and Severide's orders, everything was organised in an orderly manner but as soon as you re-entered the house to bring out a victim, all the gunfire suddenly stopped.

Initially, everyone was relieved and began calming down but as soon as you exited the house with a woman in tow, gunshots began raining down once again causing everyone to shout in a flurry of panic.

But once again, as soon as you backed up into the house protecting the smoke inhalation victim, all the gunshots stopped.

It was at this moment, it all slowly started to click.

Whispering to the female victim to stay put, you very carefully set one foot outside the house and what do you know, gunshots started popping off.

Eyes wide and chest heaving, you swallowed harshly at the realisation that you were being targeted. You alone and no one else.

"Y/L/N, stay inside, we're coming to you." Casey relayed over the radio, your captains words making it clear to you that he had also connected all the dots.

All you had to do now was wonder why.

Following the shooting, everyone came out unharmed but you. While you were distracted with the smoke inhalation victim, you were caught slacking and got grazed by a bullet.

You'd been hurt much worse before but it was bad enough for Sylvie to warrant a trip to Med where Enzo met you, worry and concern flooding off of him in waves. Not once since your year of being together had you ever seen him so worried about anything.

He brushed off your questions about work, he told you this morning he had an important meeting with some clients but here he was with you.

Unbeknownst to you, a group of Italian men were dutifully waiting for their boss in the waiting room and beyond the hospital doors lay a few cars all inhabited with similar looking men.

Once you fell asleep, Enzo lightly placed a kiss on your forehead before stepping away, gently closing the doors to your room. Walking away, he was lucky not to bump into anyone from the firehouse, going straight towards his brothers who waited for him to speak eagerly.

"It's them. They're targeting my Y/N."

His younger siblings eyes, identical to his, all darkened at his words. They'd grown attached to you over the one year period and they'd be damned if one of the best things to happen to this family was hurt, let alone dragged into business that she was too pure for.

"Come on, we have some work to do."

*****

That incident was over a month ago. You fully healed since then, the trauma of such an incident long forgotten. And you were too oblivious to notice the change in the people around you, especially your boyfriend and his family. Their protectiveness reaching new heights, not that it bothered you though.

Things drastically changed when one day you never showed up to shift. You were very strict on punctuality and Stella mentioned seeing you yesterday morning for some brunch.

It was only when Violet called Enzo, asking if you'd fallen sick and forgotten to call Boden, did they properly start to get worried.

Your boyfriend picked up on the second ring, voice filled with confusion at your best friend calling him, something she's never done before.

Violet explained the situation, Enzo confirming he hadn't seen you since you left early this morning for work.

The tension in his voice was clear as day. So when he said 'I'll deal with it' before hanging up, Violet was left feeling uneasy.

What the hell did he mean?!

Three hours later, Intelligence were rolling up to the firehouse, well only Jay and Hailey.

"We just got a call about Y/N being kidnapped?" Hailey said, confusion laced in her words as she approached the squad table.

The firefighters all looked at her in shock. They were never told anything about a kidnapping.

"What the hell." Cruz whispered as the two detectives explained everything they knew.

"Who knows where she was seen last?" Jay asked, looking at all of 51, everyone joining them outside in concern for you.

"Her boyfriend Enzo." Violet said, brows furrowed as she bit her lip. "I called and asked him around three hours ago now."

"Really?" Jay hummed. "What's his full name?"

"No clue. That's all we really know about him - his name, he's Italian and he's now a CEO after his dad died." Stella replied when Violet remained silent.

"Interesting."

*****

Dropping off a patient at Med, Violet stood besides Sylvie as she filled in some paperwork, bouncing on her feet to pass time when Will appeared in front of them suddenly.

Scaring both paramedics, he apologised with a sheepish smile.

"Hey, you guys never mentioned Y/N being kidnapped?" Before either of them could reply or explain themselves, he carried on. "It doesn't matter now, she's upstairs in a private room."

Both women were too shocked to reply, staring at the doctor mouths agape and eyes wide.

"Y/N's here? At Med?" Sylvie repeated, wanting clarification just in case she was hearing things.

"Yep." Will nodded. "Me and Maggie were treating her, I'm the primary on her case."

"Well then, what are you waiting for?" Violet said impatiently. "Lead the way Halstead."

And lead the way he did, showing them to a floor they barely saw due to their lack of 'rich rich' patients.

In the chairs outside were several men dressed in blacks and greys, all looking very similar to each other, their brown eyes glued to Sylvie and Violet as they neared the room.

Knocking on the door, Will didn't wait for a reply before entering, poking his head inside before opening it fully.

"Sylvie! Violet!" You exclaimed, trying to get up from your laid back position on the bed, wincing from moving too fast.

"Okay, let's not do that." Enzo said at the same time as Will, gently pushing you to lay back down.

"I've put a rush on your test results." Will said, looking at you and your boyfriend. "If I'm not available, I'll send Maggie."

Enzo thanked him while the two paramedics hugged you cautiously.

"Girl, what the hell happened?" Violet asked first, standing by your head with Sylvie standing next to her, opposite to where Enzo was sat.

"I'll be honest, I don't remember much." You admitted, grimacing at the pain in your head when you moved too much. "Pretty sure I was drugged for the most of it."

"I think I was taken like two blocks away from 51." You said confusingly, looking to your right at Enzo in confirmation, turning back when he nodded. "And all I can really remember is being punched and kicked a few times and like, a bunch of men talking about mob revenge stuff."

"Honestly, I don't even know or remember what they were talking about - I was so out of it."

You licked your chapped lips at which Enzo instantly held a cup of water in front of you, directing the straw for you to drink.

Humming appreciatingly, you smiled at him, dimples and squinted eyes and all before turning back to 2 of 3 of your girls.

"I was so out of it that when I first saw Enzo, I struggled to even recognise him, innit baby?"

Enzo just hummed, his one hand encompassing both of yours, his calloused fingers softly rubbing your knuckles.

"Where was she?" Violet asked, mustering up the courage to ask. "How- Where did you find her?"

Enzo finally took his eyes off you, eyes cold as he looked at your best friend. "I have a really good friend - we grew up together - whose a detective."

"I just asked for a favour." Enzo lied masterfully, having a lifetime full of experience.

The two paramedics, while quite suspicious, remained oblivious to what he was covering up.

"Fratello." A voice from the door interrupted them, all yours heads turning to one of Enzo's younger brothers. Brother

"Sono stati affrontati. Ale and Carlo assicurati che facesse male."

they have been dealt with. Ale and Carlo made sure it hurt.

"Bene." Enzo nodded, smiling at his younger brother. "You guys can go home now." good

His brother rolled his eyes, scoffing when he replied, "You're very silly Enzo, why would we go anywhere?" He said rhetorically before looking at you.

"You look much better cognata!" He smiled, brightening up his face and looking much less scarier than he just was. "All you need now is some good food and you'll be as good as new." Sister-in-law

You giggled, stifling a groan from the pain it caused in your ribs. "Thank you Luca. I expect to go home to your cooking."

He laughed, winking before he left, nodding at his brother who shooed him away.

Before anyone could say anything, the radios around their torsos went off, the familiar voice of Matt asking for their whereabouts causing them to frown.

"We should probably get back to work. We're still on shift for another fifteen hours." Sylvie said, the sadness clear in her face at the prospect of leaving you for so long.

"Yes yes. Go back and save the city on my behalf." You removed one hand from Enzo's, holding it out for both of them to take. "Say hi to everyone for me. Tell em I'll be back to working soon-"

"Ah- no you won't." Enzo stopped you before you could continue, chastising you with a smile but firm in his words. "You need to recover first. Only when you're fully healed can you go back to putting out fires, yes?"

"Exactly!" Violet agreed. "We're all on the same page, perfect."

"We'll come back and see you again after shift." Violet said as the two of them got up to leave. "Don't move an inch."

"Promise." You smiled, thanking them profusely for visiting. "Give everyone my love."

Closing the door behind them, the waiting room remained full of the same men, who now that they were looking properly, looked eerily similar to Enzo.

Making their way to the elevators, Sylvie broke the silence. "I don't- I don't think he asked a friend for a favour."

"Did you see the gun his brother had?"

...

"I did."