#I just wanted to make sure everyone who wanted to read it got to

[danidrabbles]

Cardinal

Pairing: Logan Howlett ("Worst" Wolverine) x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (for themes and smut).

Word count: 16.6k

Summary: At the edge of the world, someone from another keeps you from stepping off.

Tags/Warnings (Please, read the warnings!!): Post-Deadpool & Wolverine, female reader (female anatomy etc + 2 mentions of hair long enough to fall into your eyes), strangers-to-lovers, depression, suicidal ideations, suicide attempt and mentions thereof, addiction, drinking alcohol, drugs (mentioned not used), panic attacks, sobriety meetings, anxiety, recovery, co-dependency vibes, sprinkles of soulmateism, explicit smut (oral and unprotected PIV), happy ending (yay!!). If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Notes: Deadpool and Wolverine re-triggered my X-Men obsession and what started as a means to write some smut actually became this idea about two broken people who shouldn't even have met in the first place finding each other. There's a lot of me in this story, more than there's ever been I think. I'm sorry for this glimpse into my head, and I'm sorry if this isn't as Reader-insert as it should be, but... I'm not that sorry, you know. Huge thanks to @javier-pena , for not only reading this over and fixing so many embarrassing mistakes, but also for saying she'd read this even if it was 20k words and always believing in my abilities as a writer, even when I sometimes didn't.

If you want to read the smut as a standalone, you can! Just CTRL + F (or search in page) for 'Logan reaches for' and read away.

THE LOOKOUT

With closed eyes, you inhale the cool, December air, before looking down at your feet. Here, at the edge of the lookout, the grass has been trampled. You imagine friends taking bets on who dares get closest to the edge, lovers making memories, families taking pictures. It’s strangely soothing that maybe you’re not the first to stand here to do this. 

Far below your feet, the water laps at the rocks. The force of it depends on the weather and tonight it’s violent, with big splashes and crashing sounds. The wind tugs at your coat, pulling you towards the water as if to help you along, making you look up again as you hold your balance. In front of you, the line of the horizon is dark but visible – it would have been impossible to make out if the moon hadn’t been as bright as it is.

It’s like you’re looking at the edge of the world.

During the weeks that fall had made way for winter, you scoped the place out a couple times. The first time you stood at this cliff’s edge, the place it took you to mentally scared you so much that you got back into your car and broke down in tears. The next couple times, things became more and more serious, as your life crumbled around you, and your feelings numbed, and nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Something had crept in while you weren’t looking, settling somewhere behind your eyes and spreading out to make a home behind your ribs, slowly but surely changing you. And once you realized it, it was already too late. It had grown large, became jilted and jealous, like it wanted all of you. It pushed away everyone and everything you held dear, until it was just you and that… something.

Especially during the quiet of the night, the lookout became soothing, a strange sense of familiarity enveloping you each time you were here. It was addictive and pretty soon, it became a daily routine to visit. But lately it’s been losing its shine, your feelings here dulling and darkening too. You’re exhausted, fed up, tired of giving it more of you.

Today you want it to be your last time here. 

You’ve had countless hours to contemplate what it would be like, imagined – all but romanticised – how the cold water would paralyse your limbs if the impact wouldn't do the trick. You read somewhere that it’s apparently like falling asleep when the water finally fills your lungs. You’ll be gone, but the thing will be too.

The thought makes your eyes fill with tears, but not from fear. All you feel is relief, like it’s right, how it’s supposed to be. It makes you smile despite everything, and–

“Hey, stop!”

A voice behind you thunders through the silence and makes you shriek into the night, dirt toppling over the edge of the lookout below the shuffle of your foot. A string of curses follows, heavy footfalls behind you indicating that the intruder is approaching you.

“Fuck off!” you throw over your shoulder, your voice a roar with how it’s amplified by the wind. 

After, your throat closes up, fighting the angry tears over the fact that you can’t even fucking kill yourself in peace. Never have you seen anyone here at night, never. What you hate even more is how it breaks your momentum. The haze that was surrounding you is pierced, and your body’s baser instincts kick in. Adrenaline suddenly pumps through your veins, making your legs tremble, your heart hammer, your body scream for you to step back from where you’re standing. Your anger, however, has you nailed to the floor. 

You almost miss the much softer, “Hey,” as a man steps into your peripheral vision. You pretend like you don’t hear him, or see him – you simply pretend he isn’t there, focussing on getting back into your previous mindset. 

But then he takes his hands out of his pockets.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you warn, hating how your voice comes out trembling – weak.

“Easy.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

You stand there together for what feels like hours. You will yourself to not let it affect you, setting your jaw to keep your teeth from clattering on account of the cold, allow the wind to blow your hair into your eyes without brushing it away. Even when it begins to rain, you don’t move, don’t blink even once more than you need to. From the corner of your eye you watch the man shove his hands back in the pockets of the brown leather jacket he’s wearing, and you quietly celebrate that your surroundings are fazing him more than they are you.

“You know–” he begins.

“I’m not really looking for a conversation.”

“Me neither,” he immediately counters, suddenly impatient, “so I’ll get right to it: You planning on jumping? Because if you think the water’s gonna be nice to you, you’ve got that wrong. You’ll end up in there feeling everything, that fall isn’t gonna do shit.”

Having expected a gentle approach, his bluntness and his tone knock the wind out of you. You cock your jaw, the shame creeping up your body the first bit of warmth you’ve felt in a while. Your cold fingers ball to fists as you will yourself not to care. Yes, his words and the way he's shatteríng your expectations with them sting, but you don’t even know this guy–

“And there’s nothing fuckin’ peaceful about it, it’s just panic. Right before you go too far…” He raises a fist and holds it against the center of his chest, “...there’s this burning right here that’s hell.”

“And what makes you such an expert?” you finally spit out.

“Died like that a couple times,” he says without waiting a beat.

The casual statement of something so bizarre beats your resolve before you know it, your head turning in his direction. “‘A couple times’?”

“I, uh…” You watch him hesitate, the moonlight illuminating the tick of his jaw, the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way his chest falls as he sighs, “Let’s just say I can’t die.”

Before you can stop yourself, you snort at that. “That must fucking suck.”

He barks out a laugh, “Got that right.” It startles you when his head suddenly turns to you, when he looks you in the eye for the first time. “But trust me, being down there isn’t much better.”

There’s something in the way he looks at you that makes you waver. You can’t really place it, or decipher why it makes you want to open up to him. Maybe it’s because you’re freezing and it’s your body betraying you, tricking you into moving so you can generate some warmth, moving your lips to keep them from going blue. Or maybe it’s simply because he’s a stranger and it’s so much easier to be honest when there are no consequences.

“Things just feel so…,” you begin, voice shaky. Every possible way to end the sentence crosses your mind, seemingly all wrong, before you settle on what’s closest to how you feel, “endless.”

To your relief, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tell you to give it time that it will get better, or any of the other bullshit you’ve heard from all the other people that had been in your life and left a long time ago. You do find something else in the shift in his eyes, something you haven’t encountered before.

Understanding.

It might be worse. If anything, it’s overwhelming, making your eyes dart away from his as you sniff. 

The wind still tugs at you, the waves still hit the rocks, but your moment seems to have passed. It’s a sobering conclusion, a twisted version of wrong place, wrong time. Or maybe it was him who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, the outcome is the same.

You take a step back, and another, but it takes considerable effort; you hadn’t taken your numb legs into consideration. You stumble, falling back on the dewy, cold grass, not quick enough to catch yourself on your hands. With a groan, you move to sit upright.

“Shit. Hey, you still with me?” The stranger kneels next to you, fingers lifting your chin to look into your eyes. “Jesus, you’re fucking freezing.”

“No s-sh-hit,” you retort.

He sighs, offering you a hand so he can pull you up. “C’mon, let's get you warmed up.”

– – – – –

Logan.

That’s his name. 

It’s how he introduced himself, anyway, after he suggested you follow him. To his credit, he did offer to drive you, but you didn’t want to leave your car in the parking lot of the lookout. Logan waited 15 minutes for you while you put the blowers on the highest, warmest setting and waited for the feeling to return to your limbs. After, his brown truck led the way here – here being some hole in the wall, 24 hour diner. You could have not followed, but the drive was kind of mesmerizing; the night seemed darker than usual, and Logan’s tail lights served as a lighthouse.

Outside, the diner is all Christmas lights and flashing signs, but the interior is like something straight out of Twin Peaks; booths to the left, red barstools to the right, a girl that looks too pretty and too young to be here standing behind the counter. There were two other patrons you spotted along the way as Logan led you to one of the back booths. Once seated, Logan studied the pamphlets–or pretended to, more like, because as soon as the waitress came up he ordered two whiskeys and nothing else.

Between then and now, as you nursed your drink sip by careful sip, you hadn’t learned much more about him other than that he could knock back a glass of whiskey like he got paid to do so. And in truth, you like it this way; preferring silent company, the droning of the machinery behind the counter and the quiet hum of a song on the jukebox next to the entrance. The white noise helps to distract from the white noise in your head. Settling back into the leather cushions of the booth, you let some warmth seep back into your body. Opposite you, Logan does the same. 

Some moments after you finish your drink, one of the waitresses walks up to your booth to ask you about a refill, like she’s asked Logan twice now. You’re handing her the glass when Logan says, “She’s had enough.”

Your head whips from her to him. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t say anything, and from the corner of your eye, you see the girl leave. With your glass. Logan’s is on his lips, his eyes observing you over the rim, looking at you like he– Dammit. You sigh deeply, a sense of anger filling you. You don’t need this, least of all from him. When you stand from the booth, those eyes follow you, making you voice your observations,

“Quit pitying me, Logan.”

“I’m not,” he says before taking another sip. “You still have to drive.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “And you don’t?”

Logan shrugs. “It’s different for me.”

Anger is still prevalent in your voice when you ask, “Well, let me guess, it’s another case of ‘I died like that a couple times’?” 

He hums.

“And how does that work?”

“Regenerative ability,” he sighs. Another sip before he elaborates, “X-Gene.” 

The admission makes you plop back down in your seat. Well, that explains things – he’s a mutant. You’re not familiar with that world, but you know enough to know it meant that. It isn’t like you couldn’t have deduced it before, but truthfully, you kind of thought he was bullshiting you as part of some tactic. Now, his actions and words make more sense: He really knows what it’s like to... That’s why he had that look on his face. Suddenly, you see him in a different light–

“Now who’s pitying who, hmm?” Logan asks, giving you a thin-lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he sets his glass down on the table.

“I’m not, I’m just… processing. So this...” you lift his glass, swirl the contents around, “...doesn’t even affect you?”

“It does. For a few seconds.” He plucks the glass back from your hand, and throws the whiskey back with one gulp. His pupils dilate, pushing the hazel of his irises out until his eyes are almost black for a second, two… before going back to normal. “But if I chugged the bottle, I’d pass out.”

“Well, so would I,” you say with a chuckle. “So maybe we’re not that different after all.”

Just as the corner of his mouth lifts, your smile falls, because… it isn’t true; you’re very different. You’re pretty sure you don’t have what it takes to do what he did tonight. To care enough to do it. To sit with a stranger and hear them bitch and moan about being denied a drink. A feeling creeps up on you, sticky and uncomfortable, like you’ve overstayed your welcome—burdened him.

“I should head home,” you say, standing again.

Lightning fast, Logan’s hand shoots out to close around your wrist. “That really where you’re going?”

“Yes,” you reply. When you pull your hand back, he doesn’t let up. You fish your car key out of your pocket with your free hand, voice tighter when you say, “Let me go.”

“Just promise me something,” he says, eyes as dark as they’d been earlier, yet his drink has gone untouched since. “Don’t go back there again.”

“Not making promises I can’t keep,” you say, giving him a wry smile. “To strangers, but least of all to myself.”

He sighs, and lets you pull yourself from his hold.

THE CRAVING

New Years comes and goes, and you quickly discover that it was foolish superstition to think that it might change how you feel.

You find yourself in some club, a drink in each hand. You hate to admit it, but Logan’s words scared you out of your original idea and the only time you can bear to think of how to move on from it is when alcohol soothes the embarrassing grief of your shattered, macabre fantasy. It’s not a good way to deal with things, but it works.

There’s a part of you that welcomes feeling anything at all, but that… something inside you is busy trying to squash it. 

It’s getting somewhere, because you have no idea how much you’ve already had to drink, but you’re buzzing pleasantly. Adding to it, you knock both drinks back, slamming the glasses on the bar before spinning around and facing the crowd of dancing bodies. The music sucks, the dance floor is cramped, you’re tired… The truth is that you’re too old for this, but it’s easy to escape here, surrounded by strangers. You clumsily drag the back of your hand over your wet mouth, push your sweaty hair from your eyes, and join them.

The past couple weeks, you found yourself craving something. Contact. And here is where you can get your fill; a hand on your waist, lips on your ear, the music too loud and yourself too drunk to even comprehend what’s being said, but never more. You want them to get close, but never too close.

After some time – could be an hour, could be 10 minutes – you make your way to the bathroom. It’s quieter here, the dulled thump of the music making the time you spend there feel slow and syrupy. 

When you exit the stall, you bump into someone.

It’s a man. The dark hood over his head obscures his eyes, but you can’t help but think he’s looking right at you when a bright, almost unnatural grin appears on his face. It draws you in like a magnet, more so when he says, “Need something to take the edge off?” 

Curiously, you watch as he opens his palm, long fingers unfurling slowly until they reveal a small plastic bag in his hand. 

“First time’s on the house.”

You have no idea what it is exactly, but your eyes widen. This is new territory for you, and all the possibilities it opens up are suddenly invading your mind. As if on auto-pilot, you reach for the place where you keep your money, the sound of the door opening completely lost on you.

A hand closes around your bicep, pulling you aside with a quick yank of an arm.

“She isn’t interested, pal.” 

It’s another man, who effortlessly tucks you half behind him. Before you can protest beyond an indignant huff, there’s a sound, like a sword being unsheathed, and you catch a flash of red, and of knives. Frowning, you try to get a better look, but your view is obscured by the man’s shoulder. The hooded man seems undeterred, regarding the weapons with the same sickening grin, before leaving the bathroom, muttering something that you don’t understand on the way out. The sword sound returns, the man twists around, and–

“Logan?” you slur in disbelief. 

Logan doesn’t reply, instead takes hold of your arm again, making you follow him out of the bathroom. There he stops the two of you to murmur something to a woman wearing the same clothes as him, before tugging you along again. You’re stumbling after him on account of his pace and the iron grip he has on you as he leads you to the back door. He pushes it open with enough force to make the hinges creak, a gust of wind blowing in your face. It’s a contrast to go from the crowded, sweaty club to the silent, cold back-alley where tall brick walls and employee cars cage you in. You shake your arm and Logan’s grip loosens – another and he lets you go.

“How did you even find–” You cut yourself off, eyes widening, “Oh, my god, are you following me?”

Logan scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, please, do you think I have time to follow you around all day?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? You and your fucking…,” you gesture wildly into the air at him, “savior complex.”

“I work here,” he growls. When you give him a look, he adds, “It’s temporary. ‘Sides, me and my savior complex are the reason that creep isn’t selling god knows what to you in that bathroom right now!” His voice is a roar, echoing off the walls around you.

“Maybe I wanted that creep to sell god knows what to me in that bathroom,” you say, doing a poor impression of his voice, before turning and walking away from him.

Logan sighs. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.”

“And then what, huh?”

“I don’t fucking know, Logan,” you say, twisting around to face him again, arms spread out by your side. “Figure out a new way out of this.”

“Yeah? Third time’s the charm?”

“Why do you even care, huh? You don’t even know me,” you say. Almost immediately, you let out a bitter laugh as your own words hit your ears, a sad realization dawning on you. “But I guess that makes two of us.”

It’s not like you expected him to, but he doesn’t answer.

“You know I used to like myself? I used to smile, I used to have friends, I used to be more sober than drunk. But this feeling, it takes… everything.” You raise a fist, hold it to the center of your chest. “It takes everything I love, pushes away everyone I love, including myself. It eats me up, and wants more and more, until I’m something I’m not and until I’m so far away from that version of myself, my old self, that it feels easier to just fucking–” you pause with a wet gasp for air.

“Destroy yourself,” Logan finishes for you.

Your chest heaves, an unshed tear clings to your lash line. “Exactly.”

He takes a step closer to you. “Let me take you home,” he says, voice gentle. 

You should hate the implications of that gentleness, but you don’t. In your drunk state of mind, it’s easier to admit it’s nice that someone understands, that someone’s there to stop you from going too far… 

Tomorrow, when some of your pragmatism returns, you’ll deny this embarrassing thought ever occurred; if relying on other people worked, it would have worked a long time ago, and you wouldn’t be standing here with him. If you’re lucky, you might even forget this entirely, and wake up with a hangover that you’ll enjoy a little too much because it feels like a punishment–

“What about your job?” you ask with a sniff.

Logan’s palm finds the space between your shoulder blades with a gentle push, the warmth of it seeping in through your clothes, and he leads you to his truck. “They’ll manage without me.”

– – – – –

When you wake, your world is tilted sideways, a blanket is pulled up to your chin and there's a pillow under your head. They’re not your own; the blanket is itchy and the pillow’s too small. When you try to move your legs, they stick uncomfortably to the material below them, and you realize you’re on a leather couch. You squint at the light that comes in from a window across from you–

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

The voice startles you, eyes shifting to focus on the source: A man lying on his front on the floor, chin in his hands as he kicks his feet back and forth in the air. 

“Wish I could say it’s a pleasure, but it hasn’t been very pleasurable. You’ve been barfing up the place since the moment you stepped inside. Kept poor Al up all night. Her ears are sensitive,” he adds with a whisper. “But don’t worry, she left about an hour ago.”

“Who are you?” you slur, blinking against the light.

“Logan.” He sighs when you frown. “I know, not how you remember. This is what I look like during the day; blessed with incredible good looks at night and, well,” he gestures at his face that’s covered in scars, "this, during the day. Bit of a reverse Princess Fiona situation–”

“Cut it out, Wade,” comes the sharp protest from next to you. With considerable effort, you turn your head and see the actual Logan, slumped back in a recliner next to the couch, rubbing some sleep out of his eyes while motioning for the other man to go.

“I’ll let you two talk.” Wade winks.

Logan stands when Wade does, walking from your field of view. Your head is scrambling to catch up, trying to piece together what happened last night, but only coming up with bits and pieces.

“How are you feeling?” Logan asks as he makes his way back to you, handing you a glass of water.

You flinch when the front door closes behind Wade with a bang, before taking the glass from Logan and taking a few thankful sips. “Like shit.”

“Yeah,” is all he says as he sits back down.

“What–”

“You fell asleep in the car. Didn’t know where to take you, figured the couch was the safest place.”

“Oh…,” you say, voice small. 

You try not to think about being so wasted that you had to be carried out of Logan’s car, or about what Wade said earlier about the things that happened as soon as you stepped inside the apartment. During your silence, Logan’s fingers fiddle with the armrest, before his hand balls into a fist, and it unlocks something in your hazy memory.

“I have the weirdest memory of you having… a sword?”

You watch as Logan’s lips purse in amusement. His tongue rolls around in his mouth, seemingly contemplating something, before saying, “You probably saw these.” He holds up his fist, flexing his forearm before three blades shoot from between his knuckles like claws, accompanied by a shing!

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you startle, spilling some water on your blanket. Your head spins with your hangover and the bizarity of the situation. If it didn’t sound so much like how it did in your memory, you might think you were still drunk. 

There’s so many things you want to ask, your intrigue almost winning out over your hangover until the sharp start of a headache gives you pause. Instead, you take another sip of water before rubbing your temple.

“It’s a story for another time,” Logan says, like he can read your mind, and you want to ask him that, too. His claws retreat, the cuts they leave between his knuckles immediately smoothing over until they’re gone. “I gotta go check if I still have a job.”

The words make you feel warm all over, the memory of your back-alley conversation coming back in full force. The thought of the things you admitted to him and that you put him in the position that he had to risk his job for you make you feel even warmer, your gaze no doubt laced with embarrassment and worry when you look at him.

“‘S not your fault,” Logan assures, standing and fishing his car key from the pocket of his jeans. “You don’t have to rush but um, make sure you close the door behind you on the way out. Gets jammed sometimes.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, watching as he makes his way to the front door. 

He takes a final glance at you over his shoulder, then leaves, accompanied by a bang.

THE PUZZLE

It takes you a little over a week to muster up the courage to go back. Admittedly, your courage is aided by another, foreign feeling. You don’t have a name for it yet, or maybe you’re afraid to call it what it is, but somewhere along the week, you became consumed with the thought that feeling like you did wasn’t all there was. That there is something beyond this. 

Perhaps foreign wasn’t the right way to describe it, because it is something you’ve felt before – it’s just been long dormant. The last time, it lasted about a month before it all came crashing down, and you swore you wouldn’t fall for it again, but you can’t help it. The feeling’s too sweet, and the idea that there’s still some baser instinct willing you to keep fighting for yourself makes you feel like the sun is shining on you. 

So yeah, maybe you’re just having one of your good weeks, where the thing sleeps – quiet while its presence still simmers. But you figured now’s your chance to take advantage of its unguarded moment.

Sneaking into the building is surprisingly easy. It helps that it isn’t anything fancy. You wanted to forego the humiliation of ringing the bell and him not letting you in, but standing in front of the door now, panting after climbing three flights of stairs, you don’t know if this is much better. 

Just when you’re about to knock, the door swings open. In the opening, Logan has one arm in his jacket, head twisted to watch the other that’s caught halfway in the sleeve. It takes him almost bumping into you to realize your presence. “Shit, sorry.” He steadies himself with a hand on your arm, the touch leaving you as fast as it appeared.

“Hi,” you breathe, taking a step back to give him a little more space.

He nods in greeting. “Brings you here?”

It takes you a moment, caught off guard by him skipping over pleasantries and cutting right to the chase, despite your best intentions; it’s not that he’s ever been any different in his interactions with you.

“I came by because I, um, owe you an apology, for my behavior at your workplace and for, you know…,” you trail off, gesturing at the door.

“Barfing up the place!” comes a shout from inside the apartment. 

Logan’s eyes close with a sigh, before he steps into the hallway with you and closes the door with a bang. 

“That,” you finish sheepishly. “I’m really sorry.”

He nods in acknowledgement.

“I also wanted to ask, um, if you want to come with me to get a coffee. To make it up to you.”

Logan just looks at you, the leather of his jacket creaking as he crosses his thick arms in front of his chest. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly. You hate how he somehow can see right through you, how he makes you elaborate, and honest.

“I want to quit drinking,” you say, fiddling with the sleeve of your coat. “It doesn’t make me better, and when I don’t do it I finally feel a little… normal. Maybe coffee’s technically just as bad, but it’s the only thing that’s currently acting like… like a reverse gateway drink? And I feel like you’re the only person I know that might get that feeling of–”

“I do,” Logan cuts in, voice softer than before – assuring. His arms drop from where they’re crossed and he starts making his way to the stairs. “Let’s go.”

– – – – –

You don’t know this coffee place, and from the way he looks around and shifts around in a chair that might be a bit too small for him, neither does Logan. Main reason you picked it is because the booths remind you a little too much of a bar – and you like the tall windows. The coffee’s pretty decent.

“Did they fire you?” you ask, picking at a loose corner of one of the laminated menus before setting it back in its holder.

“Boss commended me for helping a customer, but not so much for leaving before my shift ended,” Logan replies. “Got off with a warning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Said that already, and I accepted,” he says. When he takes a sip of the coffee, he winces. “No need to worry about it anymore, okay? I would do it again.”

You nod, folding your hands around the warm cup in front of you.

“But, um, Wade hasn’t shut up about… the incident.” There’s a different tone to his voice, like he’s trying to lighten the mood. “His words.”

“You know, I kind of get the feeling that Wade doesn’t shut up about a lot of things.” It comes out a little meaner than you intend, but it makes Logan laugh and finally slump back in his chair a little. 

“You’re a quick study.”

Offering him a short smile in return, you continue with the other real reason you came to see him, before you chicken out. “I also stopped by because I wanted to, uh… because I realized I never really… I never… I never thanked you, for um… And–”

With a shake of his head, Logan sits upright. “Y’don’t–”

To your horror, your eyes brim with tears, “Logan, I’m supposed to be dead–”

“So am I,” he counters. He lets the words hang between the two of you for a moment, until you look at him, before he continues, “I’ve been where you are. Past it, even.”

You don’t know what to say to that, if the lump in your throat will even permit you to speak, but it’s impossible to look away from him. Logan’s gaze is piercing, frown ever present, but it’s not from anger. Instead, it’s like he’s searching for something, the right thing, to say. The silence doesn’t bother you; if anything, it makes his words seem more genuine when he does speak,

“I had someone who was annoying enough to not give up on me when I could really use it. If getting a coffee with you that’s, frankly…,” he makes a face as he pauses, “a horrible excuse for a coffee, helps… I can do that. I want to do that.”

The corner of your mouth lifts as you blink away your tears. “Was it Wade?”

Logan lets out a chuckle, and it’s honest – fond. “Yeah.”

“Figured,” you say. “How did you meet him?”

Across from you, Logan stills. You swallow thickly, adjusting yourself in your chair. It’s an innocent question, but maybe it isn’t something he’d like to revisit right now. Logan’s mug squeaks when he grips it tighter, and he looks at you with something like defeat– 

It makes you deflate. This must be what you looked like the night you met…

There’s no way to have prepared for what he tells you next: That he came from another timeline about three months ago, that he and Wade saved this one from being destroyed and almost got killed in the process, that he has nothing to go back to after the death of his team, so he stayed here. 

There’s hesitation in it, like he isn’t telling you the whole story, though you don’t comment on it. He doesn’t owe you anything and you’re too busy putting all the pieces in the Logan-shaped puzzle in your mind together; his words and actions towards you are starting to make more and more sense.

“It’s a very brave thing the two of you did,” you say when he’s finished.

“Hmm, it was all Wade,” Logan muses. “He did it all for the people he cares about.”

“I’m sure you would have done the same if you were in his place.”

At that, he lets out a dry laugh with absolutely no joy behind it. “Do me a favor, don’t put me on a pedestal.”

You frown, but before you can comment, he stands. A knot forms in your stomach, worried you’ve offended him, but he clears up the uncertainty immediately.

“I gotta go but um, Wade’s friends–,” he stops himself, correcting, “our friends are coming over to watch a movie, next week, 7:30. I have no idea what crap they’re going to be watching but… it’s nice. It’ll be nice to be around good people.” Logan doesn’t wait for your answer, simply takes his wallet from his pocket and leaves enough money to cover the bill.

“Wait, no, I invited you,” you protest. “I should–”

“You can pay next time.” 

When you nod, he says his goodbyes with a jerk of his head and makes his way to the door.

– – – – –

You see Logan two more times for coffee that week. He never lets you pay.

THE PANTRY

“–but it’s the best one!” Wade protests, DVD in hand.

“They fly a car into space, Wade,” Laura sighs.

“Launched off a jet,” he corrects. Like it helps.

You cover your mouth with the back of your hand, hiding the smile that appears at everyone’s babbling. Unbeknownst to you, you had found yourself invited to a double feature night, with Wade as the self proclaimed DVDJ. The credits had barely started rolling on A Good Day To Die Hard, or Wade had another DVD at the ready. It was met with the same amount of enthusiasm as when he presented the first.

It hadn’t been easy to make yourself go to this tonight. On your way, you’d thought of turning around at almost every step. Of course, that was all before you knew it would be this fun, and that you’d be relieved you hadn’t canceled last minute. Even meeting everyone hadn’t been as bad as you feared. 

There’s Peter, Wade’s friend. Ellie, another one of Wade’s friends. Yukio, Ellie’s girlfriend. Laura, Logan’s daughter. Mary Puppins, Wade’s small, disgusting but adorable dog, who had greeted you with equal amounts saliva and enthusiasm, before falling asleep next to the TV, completely unbothered by the commotion. Unlike Althea, Logan and Wade’s blind roommate, who had taken one listen to the gaggle of voices and left. The elusive Vanessa, Wade’s ex-but-we-might-get-back-together you heard about a couple times, wasn’t there.

Logan had been right, it was nice to be surrounded by good people. Especially good people who were… unconventional. It made joining them less complicated, less performative, and as the evening progressed it made you a participant instead of a silent observer. Wade even called you, “good for the group dynamic,” and it made you beam with pride.

“Don’t they have like, rockets attached to the car?” Ellie questions, to which Yukio’s eyebrows knit together.

“Exactly!” Wade exclaims, mistaking her confusion for enthusiasm. “Citizen Kane wishes.”

There’s more grumbling from everyone when Wade pops the DVD into the player, and he grumbles something back about how Logan would back him up if he wasn’t in the bathroom because he, quote unquote, goes way back with some of these dudes.

You’re pretty sure he’s the only one who knows what he’s even talking about.

An empty bowl of popcorn rests in your lap, and as you put it on the table, you notice how sticky and greasy your fingers and palms are. When the opening credits begin to roll, you get up to wash your hands, assuring Wade he doesn’t need to pause the movie before you go.

The apartment’s small, so it isn’t far to the kitchen, but it’s nice to stretch your legs. You can still hear the sounds from movie night; tell-tale action movie music, comments of disbelief and Wade shutting them down. They’re more faint, though, more so when you turn the tap on and wash your hands.

Right as you’re finished, you hear a dull thud. You turn the water off, head tilted and at attention while you dry your hands. There’s another sound, like a muffled groan. It’s coming from the pantry, you realize, noting that the door is slightly ajar. There’s a shing! sound followed by a distressed grunt, and before you know it you’re walking over, wrapping your fingers around the door to pull it open–

You’re not sure what it was you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. Logan’s sitting on the floor, uncharacteristically small, curled up against one of the walls. His chest is heaving, shoulders all but going up to his ears with how he’s trying to draw in breaths. Next to him, his fist is balled against the hardwood, claws buried in the floor.

Fuck.

Dropping to your knees, you wedge yourself between his. “It’s okay, you’re having a panic attack,” you explain, your hands landing on his shoulders with a light shake. “You need to breathe. I’ll help you, just look at me.”

Logan’s head stays tipped down, a deep, rattling breath sailing from his mouth as he curls further in on himself.

“Hey!” you say sharply, cupping his jaw with two hands and tilting his face up, “Look at me.” 

Logan’s eyes are wet when they meet yours, moving frantically as they search your face, tears spilling over when he blinks. Something changes in his gaze, like he finally sees it’s you, and his bottom lip begins to tremble. His hand lifts from where it’s buried in the floor, clutching onto your wrist like a lifeline.

“Breathe,” you instruct, trying not to flinch at the sharp claws in front of you. He doesn’t catch on immediately, so you overdo the purse of your lips when you blow out a breath before exaggerating an inhale through your nose, showing him what to do. It starts off shaky, a fresh set of tears falling from Logan’s eyes as he does as you instruct, but after a couple of times you find a rhythm together. The silver between his knuckles slowly disappears. “There you go, good job. Keep going.”

You sit like that, until the wild shift of his eyes stops, his pulse steadies beneath your fingertips, and eventually his eyes close with a deep exhale. His grip on you loosens and you take it as your cue to let go of him, slumping back against the wall opposite him with a sigh of relief. The both of you catch your breath, sitting together in silence until Logan breaks it.

“Came outta nowhere… suddenly I was back there… letting them down.”

“It caught you off guard, it happens–”

“I let them get killed,” he says, voice raw. “They were like– They were my family, they trusted me to be there for them and I… I was too caught up in my own bullshit. I should have been with them, I should be dead with them.”

Logan’s tears still come, but the words almost sound reverent; as if saying them out loud just to punish himself with his own shortcomings is a balm. He’s talking about his team from there, you realize, and something clicks. All this time, you thought this was about him being unable to die due to his mutation, but it’s more than that. It’s shame, remorse, grief, survivor’s guilt, all wrapped into one.

It’s the final piece of your mind puzzle that makes his picture appear.

“How– How can I ever atone for that?” he asks. “How can I ever–”

“Logan, you can't change your past,” you interrupt carefully. “You made your choices and they made theirs, and you honored them by– by…stepping up to the task, by doing what you did with Wade.”

“What if it wasn’t enough?”

“What if it was?” you counter. Your hand finds his knee with a squeeze, before adding, “You did what they would have done. And now you… you need to allow yourself to honor their memory without feeling like you have to destroy yourself to do it. You deserve that.”

Logan blinks at you, eyes still glossy. He looks devastated yet calmer than before, like the emotion is still there, but displaced. For a good while, you sit with him like that while his sniffles lessen and his breathing returns to normal… until there’s a loud explosion coming from the living room. It’s followed by cheers and hollers, and you’re both suddenly reminded of where you are. 

“C’mon,” you say, patting Logan’s knee before using it as leverage to haul yourself up with a groan. You give him room by holding the door open for him. “Better get back before we miss the good stuff.”

Still on the floor, Logan exhales heavily. “Think this was the good stuff.”

– – – – –

Three weeks later, on your way to your third movie night, you catch Wade and Vanessa making out in the building hallway. 

It stops you dead in your tracks and makes for an awkward meeting with Wade’s mystery woman, who is beautiful but very direct when she asks you what the fuck you’re staring at. Wade certainly has a type when it comes to the company he keeps… He quickly shushes the situation, introducing the two of you, and it immediately makes Vanessa’s expression twist into recognition. 

“Nice to meet you,” she says, followed by an apologetic smile. 

You respond in kind. 

When Wade tugs at her jacket impatiently, they brush past you and make their way to the exit. “See you around!” she throws over her shoulder.

A grin forms on your lips, realizing what you just witnessed, and you race up the stairs. With Wade gone, you’re not sure if there will be a movie, but at least you have gossip to share with your friends.

THE MEETING

April flies by, rolls into May, and thing’s are… okay.

With some help, you find a therapist. It’s good, she’s good, but it’s difficult to be confronted with things that are painful, week after week, and to keep reminding yourself it’s all part of the process you’re going through.

Last week, after a particularly difficult session, you’d left her office being auto-piloted by dark feelings, like they knew exactly when to strike. You had turned corners and crossed streets, wandering as you stewed on everything you’d discussed –  like your mind was playing a constant loop of your most painful moments. It was a small miracle you had heard your phone, and that you had the presence of mind to thumb the green button.

You’d answered without saying a word.

“Got any plans?” Logan had asked on the other side of the line.

“No,” you’d replied, coming back to yourself a little bit at the sound of his voice.

“Al’s making her meatballs – she and Wade can’t agree on if they’re famous or infamous. Thought you might like to come. If it tastes like shit, we’ll order in.”

You’d hummed, managing to ask, “What time?”

It had stayed quiet on the other end, and that’s how you’d known he was onto you, could picture the pinch of his brows, his lips forming a thin line. For the first time, you welcomed it—wanted so badly to reach through the phone, shake his shoulders, ask for his help and accept it, like he had done with you weeks ago. 

“Sounds to me like now might be good.”

“Yeah,” you had agreed, the constricting tightness in your chest easing up. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon.” You’d released a shuddering breath, ear still pressed to the phone as you took in your surroundings before you auto-piloted yourself to a different destination. 

“Logan?”

“Still here.”

“Thank you for calling.”

“‘course. Get here soon, I’ll stay on the phone.”

The afternoon had ended with Logan and yourself allowing Althea to boss you around in the small apartment’s kitchen, rolling meatballs, sharing stories — Althea’s recollection of something that happened to her in her 20s that involved her stealing a police horse while wearing nothing but a thong, made you cry from laughing.

The meatballs were the best you ever had, though you couldn’t be sure if they actually were, or if it was just the taste of the moment that was better than anything had been that day. 

Sometime after dinner, Logan had nudged your shoulder to show you a little plastic chip. He flashed it at you long enough that you could read the words one month, before he pocketed it again. Then he suggested you come with him next week. 

“I thought it was bullshit too, but it helps,” he’d explained. “Figured I couldn’t continue to drink whatever that stuff is you call coffee to… avoid my problems.”

You contemplated his suggestion. Things were going well for you in that regard, but your therapist had also recommended you go to one of these things, even if it was just for the community aspect of it. It just made it so… official. Your problems, but most of all, your recovery. You weren’t good at keeping promises to yourself, and this felt like a big commitment. Not to mention the speeches and other people’s problems...

But as Logan told you more about it, the location, how it had been for him, you sensed something else between the lines: He wasn’t just asking for you, he was also asking for himself. Maybe… this was his way of telling you he needed some support. 

That’s how you find yourself inside a high school gymnasium a week later. It’s as gloomy as you expected. Slick floors, gray fold-out chairs set in neat rows, buzzing lights in a high ceiling, and a slightly raised podium with a whiteboard that reads a welcome message in capital letters. 

Unsure of what to do, you follow Logan as he weaves through the crowd to find a seat. As you do, it strikes you that there’s a pretty even distribution of people, with many genders, ages and lifestyles represented. Eventually you take a seat; not quite in the back, but definitely not in the front. 

The whole thing goes by in a blur, but where you expected to be overwhelmed, you feel… connected. Here you are, surrounded by people with different backgrounds, different lives, but all their stories have something you can relate to. Where you thought addiction was the common denominator, it’s actually the desire to turn your lives around that unites you the most.

“Before we end the night I want to circle back to last week, when we spoke about goals, or things we want to work towards,” says the woman leading the meeting – you’re ashamed to admit you already forgot her name. “Does anyone want to share something about that?”

It takes a lot to hide your surprise when Logan raises his hand. 

“Logan! Come on up!” She sounds as surprised as you feel, beckoning him to her.

The plastic chair he sits on creaks when he stands and his boots squeak against the shiny floor as he does as she asks. He looks so out of place on a podium; both larger than life behind the lectern and lost to the space of the stage. He clears his throat as he retrieves a paper from his pocket and unfolds it while his eyes scan the room until they land on yours. You give him a little nod of encouragement, and it kicks him into gear.

“Not good at this stuff, so I’m going to keep it brief,” he starts. 

It earns him a chuckle or two from the other attendees, and you can tell he doesn’t expect it when he looks up from his paper. Your hands clasp together with nerves as you watch him divide his weight from one leg to another, before focussing his gaze back down.

“My life has changed a lot over the past few months. For the first time in a long time, it’s not all bad. Coming here has been good. I’m starting to feel more like I did before–” 

He stops his monotonous droning with a frustrated sigh, stuffing the piece of paper in his pocket and sounding considerably more lively after. 

“I have people I care about again, and um, it scares me. ‘Cause I don’t want to let them down, and every day I feel like I will because of all of my… past shit.” He pauses and swallows hard before he continues, “They show me so much kindness and understanding, that… that even though it’s fucking hard, I want to be able to see myself the way they see me. And allow them to care about me without feeling like I… have to earn it all the time, without destroying myself to do it.” 

You exhale for what feels like the first time in an eternity.

“So, that’s what I’m currently working on.” Logan sighs. “That’s it. Thank you.”

A small applause follows, and you quickly unclasp your hands to join in.

Your palms hurt after.

– – – – –

“It was really nice, what you said in there,” you say, fingers caressing a little plastic chip of your own that you keep safe in your coat pocket. You haven’t felt proud of yourself in a while, but tonight you do.

The evening is nice, the setting sun bathing the city in hues of orange and pink. Your pace is slow and comfortable, your arm occasionally brushing Logan’s when you make room for all the other pedestrians. You didn’t plan on him walking you home, but he insisted and you enjoy the company – it makes you a little sad when you turn onto your street.

Logan scoffs in reply. 

“I’m being serious,” you say, knocking your elbow against his arm on purpose now. “It was nice for people to hear a guy like you say those things. I’m proud of you.”

You swear he blushes. “A guy like me, huh?” he asks, almost amused.

It’s your turn to scoff. “You know what I mean.” 

“A mutant?” He looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“No,” you say, because it’s not what you meant, but the hint of seriousness in his voice and the fact he’s not entirely wrong make you track back. “Well, maybe that, too, but I meant someone who looks like you, allowing themselves to be vulnerable. Sets a nice example.”

Logan doesn’t shoot your comments down like you expect. Instead, he seems to consider your words, maybe he even silently accepts the compliment. “Think you have some things to say that could set a nice example, too.”

“Maybe next time.”

During the comfortable silence that follows, you’re reminded of something you’ve been considering for weeks now. You hadn’t paid much attention to it since that night, but as you worked through the feelings that got you to that point, the question kept coming back.

“I’ve been wondering something,” you begin. “The night we met... What were you doing at the lookout?”

Logan glances at you, contemplating the question. “When I had just, um, gotten here, it wasn’t always easy to adjust, you know? So I went to all these places that I knew from back there, to ground myself, to see that things may be different, but that they’re not that different.”

“You went there on your side?”

He hums.

“By yourself?”

He hums again.

“Did you…” You hesitate to finish your sentence, both because you’re not sure if you have any right to ask and because you’ve reached your building. You stop walking, and Logan follows your lead. 

“No, no, no, I… I can’t explain it, it’s just one of those places I was always drawn to,” Logan says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans with a shrug. His brows furrow suddenly, his mind seemingly lost in something before his eyes flick back to yours. “Think it took me coming over here to find reason in it.”

It’s a thought that’s equal parts sad and lovely. 

The silence that follows hangs between you, thick with something you can’t place, but Logan doesn’t look away from you, eyes scanning your face before they land back on yours. You can’t help thinking that maybe this is how he does it, and the question comes out before you can help it,

“Is mind reading part of the X-Gene thing?”

His eyes widen – amusement or surprise, you can’t say. “It can be.” 

“Can you do it?”

“No,” he says. “And it’s for the best, fucking hurts when you can’t control it.” Then the start of a smile begins to form on his lips. “‘sides, I don’t know if I would have a lot of… consideration for people’s boundaries.”

It makes you chuckle. “Right. Not to mention some minds are probably a lot – imagine reading Wade’s mind.”

“Hurts to even imagine,” Logan says, gesturing for you to be quiet as he winces, but a smile breaks through anyway. When your shared laughter dies down, he jerks his chin at the building behind you, “This your place?”

“Wha–?” Going home long forgotten in the moment, you glance over your shoulder. “Oh! Yes.”

“All right,” he nods. “See you next week?”

“Definitely,” you reply.

“Oh,” Logan says right before you turn around. “Bring coffee? You owe me.”

You make a face at him. “You don’t have to– I’ll get you something else, I know you don’t like it.”

“I like it when I drink it with you.”

It’s incredibly hard to hide your grin. “Okay, I’ll bring coffee. See you next week, Logan.”

“See you.” 

He lingers, watching you climb the steps, waiting until the door opens after you turn your key in the lock. It’s not until you close the door, when you can only make out his silhouette through the patterned glass window in it, that he walks off.

THE SUMMER

Walking back from a very successful job interview, you find yourself on your way to your friends with a big, plastic bottle of coke under your arm. It’s a warm feeling to know that you’ll soon have a job that suits you and that you have people to celebrate with; you look forward to seeing them and sharing this with them.

You’re invited inside with open arms, tight hugs, exclaimed praise and congratulations, and it makes you giddy, a feeling so foreign that you wish you could bottle it up right this instant. With a grin, you shake the Coca Cola bottle, before twisting the cap off. You let out an excited shout as you watch the foam shoot out from the top, bubbles and dark liquid pulsing down the neck of the bottle as cheers surround you.

It’s not champagne, but Althea grumbles about the soda ruining her floors, Wade gets mismatched glasses from the cupboard, and Logan clinks his glass to yours and tells you he’s proud of you.

It’s way better than champagne.

– – – – –

You’re in serious, desperate need of a new place… 

The August heat is relentless, and the entire building’s AC isn’t working. It’s with considerable effort that you manage to make your way to your friends’ place, the promise of a constant, cold stream of wind the only thing that keeps you going. But when the front door opens, it isn’t with the welcoming, cool waft of air you were hoping for. Instead, there’s no temperature change, only Wade in his underwear.

“No.” It’s a little embarrassing how you literally pout, but these are desperate times. “Here, too?”

“If it wasn’t this fucking hot I’d be offended by that greeting.” He sighs. “Come in.”

Slightly defeated, you shuffle past the threshold, while Wade lingers. Mary Puppins trots by, an ice-pack wrapped in a towel secured on her back, and you catch a glimpse of Logan exiting the bedroom. He’s in black shorts and a ribbed, sleeveless shirt, and with a desperate groan, he lets himself fall back into the recliner in the living room. 

“Tried everything, there’s no fixing that fucking thing.”

Wade makes a face, “Listen, I know what you’re thinking: Wade’s in his underwear, Logan’s emerging from the bedroom… But we didn’t fuck, it’s not that kind of st–”

“Who are you talking to?” you ask from behind him, glancing over his shoulder into the empty hallway.

“No one–You!” The door closes with a bang.

Confused, you walk further into the apartment. “Well, telling me you didn’t is just going to make me think that you did.” Wade darts past you and takes a seat on the couch, but you hang back and lean against the kitchen table to avoid sitting on leather.

Wade suddenly turns to face you. “Did I ever tell you about our time in The Void?”

“Wade,” Logan warns.

Wade’s eyes are sparkling with mischief and you can’t deny how fun it is to indulge the way he pushes Logan’s buttons. It’s a good distraction from how you’re drenched in sweat. And you’re actually curious.

You play your part, letting out a faux-scandalised gasp. “Did you..?”

“Oh, yeah, baby. Wolverine goes both ways. All the ways, really.” He grins. “We’re so alike.”

“Shut up. Both of you.” Logan groans, lacking any real threat as he adjusts in his seat and wipes some sweat off his brow. “It’s too fucking hot to be annoyed.”

It isn’t lost on you he doesn’t deny a thing.

– – – – –

Apartments look weird with nothing in them.

It’s what crossed your mind after you finished packing up your place three days ago, and it crosses your mind now as you look into the open space of your new one from the doorway. It’s a pleasant, late summer day; perfect weather to move, which was on your schedule for today.

“Incoming!” comes from behind you, followed by quick, heavy steps.

You jump aside as Ellie sails through the door, carefully setting a big box marked “Kitchen” down in its designated area, followed by Logan who is balancing three boxes at once. After a beat, Yukio follows, holding a single table lamp in her hand. It takes some effort not to laugh, not just because of how funny it looks, but also because you relate; after all the exhausting late nights you pulled packing up, that’s also the kind of energy you’re bringing to this.

It’s nice of them to help, and instead of shoving that feeling away in fear, you allow yourself to bask in it. You don’t get long, however, because more help has just arrived.

Wade. With Vanessa. Hands interlocked.

It draws everyone’s eyes to the doorway. Wade looks almost bashful, and it baffles you how someone who can say the most insane things unprompted, all without batting an eye, could blush while holding hands with a girl he likes. To his credit, he shakes it off quickly.

“All right, all right,” he says. “Stop ogling me and my girlfriend and get back to work everyone!”

– – – – –

“So it was like an experiment?” you ask, stirring the pot on your stove before taking a careful bite of food off your wooden spoon.

Tonight’s your first night hosting at your new place – Family Dinner, Wade had dubbed it. With fall setting in, you had an idea of what to make, but it still made you nervous to have everyone in your space. Logan saw right through you, offering to come over early to help you prepare. 

Once he had arrived, it hadn’t taken long for him to admit he wasn’t much of a cook, so he mainly chopped vegetables as you chatted; you about your new place, Logan about his new job as a boxing instructor, Laura going off to college. You don’t remember exactly how the subject of his adamantium came up, but he was telling you freely about it.

“They needed someone who could regenerate fast enough to bond with it,” he explains. “I was in a dark place. Figured I didn’t have anything to lose if it didn’t work.”

You nod in understanding. “Do you… remember much about it?” You put your spoon down, then put the lid back on the pan. 

Logan’s knife stops hitting the cutting board. “Yeah, I… I remember every second of it.”

You look at him then. His eyes are still cast down at his task. Unsure of what to say, you think about what you’d want to hear, and you find it might be best to say nothing at all. Instead, your hand finds his shoulder. Logan’s head turns to you, and you feel like the look you share is more important than anything you could’ve told him. His hand covers yours with an appreciative squeeze. 

“But I’m trying to leave that there so I can focus on remembering what happens to me here.” As soon as he’s said it, his hand quickly slips off yours, adding, in a rush, “Here in this timeline, I mean.” 

You smile at him, but a strange feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. “That sounds like a great idea.”

– – – – –

“I need your help with something,” you say, balancing your phone between your ear and your shoulder while you turn a birthday card over in your hand. Deciding you don’t like it, you throw it back on the pile of cards and continue your grocery shopping.

“Just say the word,” comes Logan’s reply from the other end.

“I need you to steal something out of the apartment for me.” There’s a silence, and you purposely let the feeling of trepidation linger.

“Am gonna need you to say a little more than just that.”

You laugh, “Wade’s been talking about getting a little frame for his polaroid. You know, the polaroid that you held on to for him in The Void, after the two of you fu–”

“Yes, I know the one,” he interjects with a huff. He pauses, sighs, then says, “Consider it done.”

THE PARTY

“There you are!” Wade shouts after he opens the door. He pulls you into a hug that you return with a wide smile. Over his shoulder, you see that the apartment’s crowded, bustling with people who are there for his birthday party.

“I got you something,” you say, offering the small package to him after you step inside and hang up your coat.

“Wouldn’t have let you in if you hadn’t,” he admits as he closes the door behind you with a bang. Wade takes the package from your hand, shaking it next to his ear but hearing it make no sound in response. “Is it a cock ring?”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “Unfortunately, they were all sold out.”

“They always are,” he says, making a disappointed face. Bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you watch as he tears at the wrapping paper to reveal his gift. He makes another face when he sees it. “Well, now I feel like an asshole. This is really nice.”

“Logan helped me kidnap it,” you explain, pointing at the picture. “And the little red hearts on the frame, well, they’re your color, but they also reminded me of how much you care about people.”

When he looks at you after, it’s with genuine emotion… but Wade is Wade. “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m kind of happy you walked in here barfing up the place.”

A strange mix of embarrassment and gratitude claws its way up your neck. “Thank you.”

“We should take a new one,” he decides suddenly, pointing at the picture. “You both should be in it.” His head turns, watching as Logan approaches the two of you. “But let’s be realistic, his shoulders are so broad he wouldn’t even fit in the frame, much less his bul–”

“Stop talking about my dick, Wade,” Logan snaps.

“I was saying only good things! Jeez, so sensitive…” Wade turns, putting the picture on the kitchen table behind him where it joins all the other gifts.

“Did he like it?” Logan asks, voice low.

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Good,” he replies. “Was a nice idea.”

You eye all the other gifts, some clearer who they are from than others. “What did you get him?”

The corner of Logan’s mouth lifts as he points at a roll of silver duct tape with a small red bow on top, making you fix them both with a confused look.

“It’s an inside joke,” Logan shrugs.

Wade’s eyes sparkle, but in a rare turn of events, he doesn’t elaborate, only adds, “It’s classified. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.” 

“And I have top level clearance, lieutenant,” you reply. You exhale through your nose in an amused laugh when Wade makes a surprised face that indicates you’ve gotten the reference. “What, you thought a Tom Cruise impression could save you?”

“No,” he grins, and as if on cue, the doorbell rings, “but that can. Birthday Boy duty calls, but I want it on record that I could do Top Gun, easily, while Tom would never be able to pull off Deadpool.”

– – – – –

The party settles into something comfortable, soft music in the background of lively chatter. Yukio has just finished telling you about a Professor Layton cosplay she’s doing when you excuse yourself, both your glass and your social battery empty enough to look for a momentary out. Finding your way through the crowd, you make it to the kitchen, filling your glass with water and taking a few sips. 

While you do, the music suddenly gets louder, taking over for the steady chatter. You turn around, leaning back against the kitchen counter, and watch as Wade drags Vanessa to the middle of the apartment. People make room for them, exchanging looks while Wade wraps his arm around her waist, takes her hand in his and begins dancing with her. With a laugh, she slaps him on the chest, before settling into his embrace anyway. Some follow their lead, but your eyes stay glued to them. Wade spins Vanessa under his arm, the smile on her face bright enough to light up the entire room. In return, he looks at her with so much adoration he’s almost glowing himself. It fills you with warmth to see the both of them so happy.

It hits you how you haven’t thought about this in a while. You’d decided long ago that the future wasn’t something you had to worry about, but suddenly you’ve arrived, like you’re in some alternate reality where your future is now, and that it would be nice to share it with someone. The sting behind your eyes catches you a little off guard; mixed feelings of time that has been taken from you, but also of time you’re getting back with the life you now have.

For a while now, you’ve suspected the thing inside you is gone, that there isn’t much to feed off of anymore. If it is, it would make sense that there’s room for something else.

Wade and Vanessa make it look easy, even though you know it’s been far from easy for them. You suppose that’s what it’s like, especially as you get older. It’s less about big gestures, more about small ones; someone to make you laugh, to spin you under their arm, who knows how to apologize, seeks you out during your quiet moments–

“Do you dance?”

You startle, head turning towards the voice next to you– 

“Logan,” you breathe. 

It’s like you’re seeing him for the very first time. He’s standing so close, almost touching you but not quite, heat radiating off of him nonetheless. The plaid shirt he’s wearing isn’t even buttoned and still the fabric is pulled taunt over his shoulders and the thick of his biceps. He’s grinning, his nose pulled up in an adorable scrunch, the corner of his eyes crinkling - you never noticed before, but there’s a hint of green between the hazel.

It hits you so suddenly that you have to grab the counter to keep your balance. Everything that’s been happening, that you’ve been feeling, all the times something happened between the two of you that you couldn’t put your finger on… it falls into place with a well-timed, completely unrelated question and a glance at him.

You like him.

All you can do is blink at him, dazed, unable to speak, even more so when he leans in a little closer, mistaking your silence for misunderstanding. “I mean, not that I– You and Wade were doing a bit earlier, it’s a reference to–” Logan straightens suddenly, his expression slipping into concern as he watches you, “Are you okay?”

You feel warm, so aware of all his attention on you that you’re afraid he might be able to see your pulse blink rapidly below the angle of your jaw. “Yeah,” you reply, voice hoarse, looking away from him to blink the leftover wetness from earlier out of your eyes. 

Anxiety claws its way into your chest, your mind coming to terms with what it’s puzzled together at such a sickening pace that there’s an immediate knot in your stomach. The party has instantly lost its shine, and you look down at the glass in your hand, gulping down its contents. You need to be alone with your thoughts, you need to think about this before–

“I gotta go,” you say in such a rush that it almost sounds like one word while you set your glass on the kitchen counter.

Logan’s eyes follow you as you push past him, grab your coat and reach for the doorknob. “Wait–”

“Bye, Logan.”

THE TABLE

Once at home, you change into something more comfortable, your mind racing while you peel your party clothes off, toss your bra aside, change into an oversized shirt and plop down on the couch after.

Despite having already established that your mind was occupied with other things for a very long time, it’s laughable in hindsight that you never noticed your feelings before. It’s not like you don’t know what Logan’s like; he’s kind, funny, supportive…

…broad, handsome.

Shit.

Why did you have to come to your senses? Things were better before that moment. Logan’s your friend, whom you met in the most unconventional way possible. It’s ridiculous to want more than what you have when what you have is good. Or to think that he would want more.

But he might.

Because you may have been occupied with depression, anxiety, recovery, and everything in between, but you were there; you remember the time you spent with him, the way he looks at you, drinks the coffee you like, laughs at your jokes, seems to know exactly when to call you, seeks you out in a crowd.

But it would change everyth– 

Actually, not a whole lot would change, if you really think about it. You already see him all the time, you’ve seen the very worst of each other, overcome a great deal of hardship together, you make each other better, his friends are your… 

friends. 

You didn’t say goodbye to Wade.

The thought comes suddenly. It was his birthday party and you didn’t even say goodbye to him before you left. You’re a terrible friend. Dread sinks into your limbs, and you reach for your phone to type out a quick, apologetic message. Just as you hit send, there’s a series of loud knocks on the door, and it makes you freeze up where you’re seated.

“Are you in there?” a muffled voice calls out.

It’s Logan, you realize, and a plethora of fake excuses as to why you left the party early present themselves to your mind as you quickly make your way over to the door.

The first thing you notice when you open it is that he’s dripping wet from the rain, clothes soaked through and his hair flat. There’s a deep furrow in his brow, and it’s different from how he usually looks; he looks actually mad.

“Logan, is everything–” you begin, concerned, but he cuts you off by pushing past you and letting himself inside, boots stomping against the wooden floor. 

“Jesus, here you are. Why’d you leave like that, huh? Saying goodbye, your eyes all wet. I went after you and you were fucking gone, it scared the shit out of me. Didn’t see the car at the lookout, but I went to look for you anyway, and you weren’t in the water, thank fuck–”

“Wait, you went–” you pause, the mental image of Logan running out into the rain to the cliffside making your eyes widen. “Did you think..?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, shoulders slumping.

“Shit.” Your heart is racing when you step closer to him. “No, I wasn’t… I don’t want that anymore.”

“Then what the fuck was that all about?”

The desperation and misunderstanding in his eyes is unmistakable, and you hate that you made him feel like that. “I was just… I needed a moment, after seeing Wade and Vanessa like that,” you say, trying to provide yourself with more time to think, unsure if you already want to broach the subject of why you really left.

“You… like Wade?” Logan asks, his frown deepening.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you at the unexpected question. “No. I mean, I adore Wade, but not like that. He’s with Vanessa.”

The answer does nothing to change his expression. “And you want it to be different?”

His line of questioning confuses you. “I– No. Logan, this isn’t about Wade or Vanessa, but it’s about… what they have. Something that’s real, but imperfect, and that’s what actually makes it perfect, and I just… I was in a really bad place for such a long time, I didn’t give myself time to even think about… I haven’t felt myself wanting for so long,” your gaze flicks up to his. “Seeing them just made me realize there’s so much left that I still want.” 

Internally, you curse the way he always makes you say too much, because you can see the understanding wash over his features. His expression softens, the balled fists by his side loosen, and his eyes search you, as if to see if that thing you want is him. There’s no doubt he finds his answer; you’re ever the open book when it comes to him, and your pulse quickens while he silently observes you. 

Logan reaches for you so quickly that you can barely prepare for it, a hand on your waist to pull you in, another on your cheek to tip your face up and guide your mouth to his. A shaky breath sails out through your nose when your lips meet, your eyes fluttering shut and your palms sliding up his damp but warm chest to curl in the soaked fabric of his shirt. It’s eager, and the angle is off, but it’s quickly adjusted with a brief parting and a near in-sync tilt of your heads in the other direction. 

Logan pulls away, but stays close, and you almost feel his words before hearing them, “Been… thinking about doing that.”

“Really?” you say, breathless and amused. “When did you, um, start wanting to do that?”

“Few weeks ago–Fuck, no, more than that. Almost did, that day after your first meeting, after you told me you were proud of me,” he admits. “But I wanted to give you time, space. Wasn’t sure if you felt–”

“I do. Didn’t realize it before, but I fucking do,” you assure him, another tug on his collar trying to pull him back to you. His admissions, knowing he wants you too, only make you want him more, like you have to make up for all the time you wasted not doing this sooner.

Logan’s hand on your waist holds you off. “I just don’t know how to… how to be this,” he confesses softly.

“That’s okay,” you say, your nose brushing against his. “I don’t either.”

He inches forward like he intends to kiss you again, but seems to reconsider, swallowing hard before saying, “Wouldn’t be the first time we figure it out together, huh?”

The words make you surge forward to close the gap between you, your brows creasing, attempting to convey everything you feel with one press of your lips to his. Logan’s hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you to him in a way that seems to mirror your efforts. Something lights up inside you, something you lost long ago, and it makes you bold, opening your mouth under his to get a taste of him. 

His grip on you tightens with a groan, spurring him into action and walking you backwards into the dark kitchen, the only illumination the slivers of moonlight that come through the kitchen window. You jolt when the back of your thighs hit the table, before you’re scrambling to get on top of it, two hands at your waist helping to hoist you up. Your thighs widen to make room for Logan’s while you push the green flannel shirt off his shoulders, struggling to peel it off his arms to the point you have to break away with a laugh to really get it right. It lands on the floor with a wet sound, before he reaches for the back of his shirt, curling his fingers around the collar and pulling it over his head.

Logan’s sturdy, warm to the touch and surprisingly pliant when you can’t help but let your fingers flit along the corded muscles and protruding veins while he toes off his shoes. His hand flies to the back of your head to fist the hair at the nape of your neck when your lips explore, find his jaw, and travel down his neck. A soft sound sails from his mouth, a barely audible moan that carries over into something deeper when your lips brush a spot just above his clavicle. Using the grip he has on you, he drags you back up to his mouth, doing some more of his own exploring when his warm tongue strokes against your own. 

“You’re so good to me,” he murmurs with a buck of his hips against yours. The thrill of having him pushed up against you, half-hard, warm, full of promise, makes you moan, teeth clacking against his when you do. “Always so fucking good to me.”

It makes you want to protest, from the very moment you met, he’s the one always being that to you, but it dies on your tongue when Logan’s flicks over the tips of his fingers. His impatient hand finds its way between you, disappearing under the waistband of your underwear and stretching the material to make room. His name comes out as a whimper when his spit-slick fingers easily glide through the soft skin between your legs. He curses, another buck of his hips pressing his hand closer against you, and your kiss turns messy and uncoordinated when he dips one finger to touch your clit. 

“This okay?” Logan asks when you gasp, drawing languid circles between your legs.

“Yeah, it’s just– Oh, god.” Two thick fingers find your entrance, swirling the wetness there around. “Been a while,” you manage to finish your sentence.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he promises. “You want that?”

All you can do is nod, and Logan presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulls his hand back. It’s paired with a wet sound that makes your cheeks heat, more so when you watch him get on his knees and yank you to the edge of the table, the quick turn of events and the casual display of his strength making you a little dizzy. Logan’s nose presses into the fabric between your legs with a sharp inhale, before quick, practiced moves work your underwear down your legs. One eager hand places a thigh on his shoulder as another holds you at the bend of your knee. You lie back, arching as you hurriedly pull your t-shirt over your head, leaning up on your elbows just in time to watch him bend down. 

The feeling of Logan’s hot breath sailing out over your sensitive skin alone is enough to make you gasp. He drags his lips and nose across your folds, easing you into it as much as his lack of patience will allow before tasting you with a swipe of his tongue. It isn’t tentative or testing, but firm and sure, and clearly for his enjoyment as much as yours when he repeats his action and groans into you. The vibrations of it and the gentle scratch of his facial hair only add to the liquid feeling in the pit of your stomach. Letting go of your knee, he curls a strong arm around your thigh, spreading you open then pulling you flush against him while he sucks your clit into his mouth.

“Oh, that feels really good,” you spur him on, your heel digging in between his shoulder blades. You watch him with hooded eyes, shifting your weight to one elbow so you can cup your breast with a whine. 

Logan’s eyes slip shut in focus, working his tongue up and down your clit and making you arch into his mouth. Reaching for you blindly, he slides a hand over yours on your chest, fingers fitting between your own and squeezing while his tongue slides lower to lick over where you’re dripping for him. He lets out an appreciative hum as he repeats the move until your thighs clench and shake around his ears. His tongue dips inside you, curling up against the slick walls of your cunt, and his name tumbles from your mouth, soft, pleading, making his eyes shoot open to meet yours.

The sight of him looking up at you like that from between your thighs, with dark eyes, the tip of his nose glistening with your wetness, will probably haunt you for the rest of your life. 

Logan shushes your begging, pulling away and watching as your pussy clenches at the sudden lack of attention. “Let me give you something to come on,” he murmurs, before fitting a finger at your entrance. It meets absolutely no resistance, a second finger sliding inside with just as much ease, and he sets a steady, deep rhythm before his mouth returns to your clit.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck–” Your head rolls back between your shoulder blades, mouth open on a silent gasp, but he draws your attention back to him with a curl of his fingers, finding a spot that makes you go rigid for a second. It all builds so fast, so suddenly. The hand on your chest shakes Logan’s off, finding the crown of his head and sliding your fingers into his hair. He’s too strong to really make purchase, but you try anyway, using your grip to roll your hips against him. The sound of his groans, every flick of his tongue and every squelching, delicious curl of his fingers all send you closer and closer, until his hand presses down on your belly, and…

“Logan,” you manage, voice sharp with a warning that comes too late when he makes you tumble over the edge. 

It’s so much after so long, the force of it making you fall back against the table, something between a gasp and a shout tearing from your throat. He holds you tighter, to keep you in place and guide the desperate roll of your hips against his face. Your orgasm quickly slips into something bordering on oversensitivity, and you let out a dry sob that makes you slap a hand over your mouth when Logan’s tongue travels a path from where his stilled fingers disappear inside you, up to your clit. He stays there, gentle, uncharacteristically patient as you slowly come to a twitching halt. 

He’s a blur when he comes back into your field of view after standing up, towering over you to watch as you come back down to earth. Becoming sharper with every heavy blink of your eyes, you notice the smile on his face is smug, that the hair surrounding it is a shade darker than the rest. You sigh softly when his fingers slip from you, the feeling of them sliding wetly over your clit making you tremble, but his touch doesn’t leave you completely when he moves to stroke the outside of your thigh.

“How’s that?” Logan dares to ask.

“Hmm, no speaking yet,” you protest.

Reaching for him, you slide both of your arms up over his broad shoulders, wrists crossed in the nape of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. It’s slow, and deep, the taste of yourself shared between the two of you as your tongue slides over his. The table protests with a creak when his hands land beside your head, more when his chest pushes down on yours and you wrap a leg around his waist to get him even closer. The hair scattered across his broad chest teases your nipples and the hard ridge of his cock strains against his jeans and presses up against your slick cunt. It makes your jaw go slack, stoking your desire and making you burn with the need to make him feel as good as he just made you feel. 

With a push against his shoulders, you take him along as you sit upright again, accompanied by another creak of the table. Mouth still on his, you slide a hand down to cup him over his jeans, the weight of him against your wide open palm making you pulse. Logan grunts when your hand squeezes, and your mouth slides off his, kissing his jaw, sliding back down his neck. He cups your head, keeping you in place while watching your hand.

“Feels nice,” he husks, voice so deep it makes you want to push him aside and get on your knees for him, but then he asks, “Are you gonna let me fuck you?”

“God, yeah,” you say with a nod, watching as the mark you just sucked into his neck disappears far too soon while you continue rubbing him over the denim. “Want you inside of me.”

“Jesus–Then get it out,” he instructs, guiding your hand to his belt. 

If you weren’t so turned on you might wince at how eager you are, at how quickly you tug the buckle open and pull the leather free. Logan groans when it relieves some of the pressure, letting his forehead rest against yours. Together, you watch your hands make quick work of his zipper, your fist closing around his cock while your other hand works his pants down until he can kick it off and under the table.

He fits nicely in your palm, heavy and ready, sticky at the tip. With a purse of your lips, you let your spit trickle down in a straight line, and he hisses when it hits him. Your free hand flattens against his stomach, sliding down along the hard planes of his body and following the vein just below his belly button down, until it meets your other hand that loosely strokes up to the root of his cock. Logan arches into you when you stroke back up with a tighter grip, all but getting on his toes to chase your touch. Using both of your hands to get all of him, you twist your fists in opposite directions once, twice, before circling his tip with one thumb. Your other hand curls around the underside of him, dragging some of your spit down to his balls with the tips of your fingers.

“F–fuck,” Logan stutters when you play with him there, cupping him in your hand as well as you can and squeezing his shaft when it twitches in response. His eyes slip shut as his palms land on the outside of your thighs with a smack, fingertips digging into your soft skin. 

It makes you jolt, then grin, giddy from the sharp sting and the power you have over his pleasure. “How’s that?” you echo with a teasing lilt.

He does have the words to answer, albeit a little slurred, “‘S good, sweetheart.”

The nickname tacked on at the end takes root in your chest, blooms bright and makes you ache. You translate your appreciation into tightening your strokes and spreading more of the precome that steadily leaks from his tip around.

“C’mere,” Logan says softly, taking over for you with one hand, giving himself a few strokes before pushing your thighs further apart and shuffling closer to line himself up with you.

You’re so wet that the head of his cock is practically already slipping inside of you, but your hand clasps around his bicep when he really starts to breach you. After giving you a shallow little thrust, his hips draw back, before pushing a little further, gauging your reaction.

“Just like that,” you sigh, watching the careful slide of him in and out of you. “Keep going just like that.”

He gets you opened up like that, giving you a little more with each wind of his hips. Logan’s hand finds the back of your neck, his palm splaying out and keeping you close enough that you’re practically sharing air with each sigh and moan. Eventually, your knees have to draw up to his flanks in order for him to keep going and you wind a leg around his hip to close the final distance with a press of your heel into one of the firm cheeks of his ass. A long breath sails out from between your lips when you pulse around him, slowly adjusting to having all of him filling you up. You can tell he has to put considerable effort into letting you, wood groaning below you when he clutches onto the table.

“Fuck, it’s a lot,” you say, and when he grins against your mouth you can’t help but kiss him again – just a peck. The hand at the back of your neck squeezes in reassurance as he continues to let you lead, and it’s a small gesture, but it makes you feel warm all over. You melt into it his touch, your body relaxing as the pleasure of the stretch of him takes over.  

“Can stay like this a little longer if you want,” he says, but the strain in his voice says something different.

“Hmm, no, you can move.” You’ve barely said it, or his hips are drawing back, and it would have made you laugh if it didn’t feel so fucking incredible. He almost slips from you completely, before sliding all the way back inside with a grunt. The table scrapes along the floor, and vaguely you register one of your chairs falling over in the process. When he repeats the action, the furniture squeaks again below you. “Just don’t break my table.”

The sound he makes in response is non-commital, and when he fucks back into you and nudges against something wonderful, you can’t say you disagree. Grabbing hold of his shoulder and using the leg you have wrapped around him, you roll your hips against his, and he begins to meet you halfway until you work up a rhythm together. The table protest further, a shrill sound filling the room after each slap of skin–

With a frustrated groan and accompanied by a startled squeal from yourself, Logan lifts you. The surprised laugh that threatens to bubble up your throat quickly morphs into something heavier that comes out with a rasp when he makes it all look unusually effortless. Attempting to brace yourself, you sling one arm over his shoulders, the other winding around his neck so you can rake your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. It’s a struggle to keep your balance, a helpless heel digging into the back of his thigh to keep yourself upright. Quick to aid, Logan slides an arm under you, fingers splayed across your ass as your knee hangs off the inside of his elbow. He turns a quarter, presses you up against the wall, and doesn’t miss a beat as he continues fucking you. 

“Jesus, Logan,” you say, voice almost a growl and barely recognizable as your own.

With your new position, you can see him better, the both of you lit from the side with the window to your left. The moonlight paints him in a tapestry of light and shadows when the wind blows through the tree branches, momentarily amplifying the glint in his eyes and the flex of his chest and arms like a strobe light.

The different angle he finds with his cock is a little too good, the feeling of the thick base of him stretching you open with each thrust making you dazed and talkative, “It’s so deep like this, can–oh, my god–can feel you everywhere.” 

Logan curses at your words, squeezing your waist and pushing you harder against the wall. There’s a deep-voiced appreciation of how good you feel in there too that doesn’t quite make it from your ears to your brain because somehow he’s still speeding up. His head ducks down to your chest, mouthing at the soft skin of your breast before closing his lips around a nipple. 

You whine, using the grip you have on him to roll your hips against the piston of his while you pant into his crown. Though the sound he makes against you when you do it makes you beam with pride, it’s not something you can keep up for very long, your hold on him slacking after a few thrust until you slip back against the wall. 

Logan pulls back when you do, tightening his hold on you while his eyes glide from the bounce of your tits that glisten with his spit to down between your bodies. 

“Touch yourself,” he instructs, grunting when you immediately do as he says by bringing a hand down between where you’re joined. Your fingers spread in a V-shape around where he fucks into you, collecting some of your mixed arousal before using it to rub your clit. “That’s it, sweetheart, fuck, make yourself come.”

You nod, rapidly feeling everything zeroing in on the fingers that draw tight circles over your clit and that spot deep inside you that Logan’s finding with every thrust. “Yeah, fuck, I’m–Don’t stop, don’t stop, please–”

He’s coming before you are, tucking his head below your chin to let out a deep, drawn out moan against your neck that ends with his teeth grazing your skin. It’s so much, the pressure of him grinding himself into you with twitching, barely there thrusts, the heat of his release as it fills you where you’re gripping him like a vice, and as your fingers still twirl between your legs you come, and come, and come. 

The leg you have wrapped around his hip slips off, but before your toes can even scrape the floor, he catches your thigh, cupping your ass with both hands now to keep you up, and close. With a soft, satisfied sound, you let your forehead fall against Logan’s shoulder, tasting the salt of his sweat with every light press of your lips there.

It takes you a moment to notice your back has come off the wall, that Logan is walking the both of you into your living room and to the couch. He bends his knees, dropping you between your pillows, where you land with as much grace as you can muster considering you feel like you’re made of lead. The soft couch is pleasant against your body, your sore limbs sinking into the cushions. 

Logan fits himself between your legs again, widening them around his broad shoulders before his lips find your overstretched thighs, leaving marks and kisses up up up, until his tongue slips back into your pussy. Your back arches off the couch, hands shooting down to fist his hair with a whine while Logan’s hand fists his cock. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can tell he’s already getting hard again, and his tongue is making something swirl low in your belly that’s making you pant, and...

It’ll be a long night.

THE PEARL

It had taken a lot of convincing and downright groveling, but Wade had allowed you to bring a movie for movie night. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust your taste in movies, his main gripe with your choice was that it wasn’t a Christmas movie – mandatory for December. Wade’s right, but after you explained that it’s the movie you always watch at the end of the year (and after Logan and yourself conceded that yes, his birthday was technically also your anniversary) he’d agreed. 

Now that you’re actually watching it, you suspect he’s genuinely invested, because after a handful of comments about The Hulk, he’s been quiet for longer than you’ve ever heard him be quiet.

In the scene on the screen, Mark Ruffalo’s character Dan and Keira Knightley’s character Gretta are taking an evening walk around New York City, dancing, singing and sharing music with each other as they do. Eventually, they stop and sit next to each other on some steps, watching as the city continues to move without them.

“...the most banal scenes are suddenly invested with so much meaning, ya know? All these banalities, they're suddenly turned into these… these beautiful, effervescent pearls,” Dan says, wistfully looking on as New York bustles around him. “I gotta say, as I've gotten older these pearls are just… becoming increasingly more and more rare to me.”

The arm Logan has slung around your shoulder tightens, and the couch creaks softly as you lean further into his side, your cheek squishing against his warm chest.

“More string than pearls?” Gretta inquires with a frown.

“Yeah. You got to travel over a lot more string to get to the pearls.” There’s a pause as he turns to look at her, “This moment is a pearl, Gretta.”

She gives him a hint of a smile. “It sort of is, isn't it?”

“All this has been a pearl,” he admits, sharing a look with her.

A finger curls under your chin, tipping your head up until your eyes meet Logan’s. He gives you the same look you just saw on the screen, his eyes soft as they take you in, the hint of green between the hazel illuminated by the light of the television. A thumb swipes over your bottom lip fondly, before he leans down to kiss you.

It takes a lot of string indeed.

Sometimes even interdimensional string.

– – – – –

(THE END)

If you made it all the way here, thanks for reading. Seriously. Please come say hi and/or share your thoughts via ask/messages/reblogs/whatever you feel comfortable with. I hope to share more writing soon - emphasis on hope, I'm not making promises, just an educated wish.

And lastly, if you're struggling with mental health problems, please don't wait for a handsome stranger to sweep you off your feet. I know from experience that it can be incredibly difficult to reach that hand out, but I also know from experience that things can get better. There are ways to get help and you deserve to get help 🫂

[3liza]

i mean the truth is that we do not need and should not have all this stupid plastic clutter in or houses. no one should be producing or selling this shit. everyone make your own merchandise and charge a living hourly wage to sell it 🤷 sorry to be so simplistic about this but it's one of the results of the lack of class unity specifically in the means of production-owning creative class, who is not mentioned or dealt with by the core Marxist texts as far as I know (i asked about this earlier on here, did marx ever address in his analysis people like, for example, a professional photographer who owns a camera ans prints his own dagguereotypes? or a portrait painter or idk, independent milliner or seamstress? these people all own the means of production and do not employ anyone, and the answer from better educated people than I was that no, Marx didn't mention them), I'm not well read on this at all, there is just a big void where leftist analysis of what modern economists call "the creative class"

I'm getting off topic. my point is make your own keychains in your kitchen. it's actually not hard. you can even mass produce (on a small scale) little plastic crap if you want, with resin and a UV lamp, or a 3d printer, or a laser cutter and acrylic sheets (or just use balsa wood damn, at least its biodegradable and less tacky).

all this stuff is available to little creators AND there are hundreds of people who already own these machines who will take work for you and produce your designs. you just have to actually find them and know them and email them. that's what I mean about the class unity issue with creatives. we have no large scale union, we have no large scale class consciousness, and we're all sending our orders for little plastic crap to sweatshops instead of emailing a guy with a laser cutter in his garage and saying "hey Keith can I get uhhhhhhhhhhh 50 laser cut keychains of this twerking Diggler design I made, like how much would that cost" and he's like sure here's the work and materials cost and tbh it's always always less than i think it's going to be. you just have to do some basic arithmetic and then order shipping, and I hate order fulfillment with my life but you can actually pay or barter with someone to do that for you too. learn to delegate and then factor that into your unit cost. this is basic shit every commercial creator needs to know. they should teach you this in art school but they dont

don't give me crap about "I can't afford a laser cutter" either because I just told you to email Keith. and all these machines get sold secondhand when a manufacturer or hobbyist needs to upgrade. i got a color laser printer perfect for making zines and wheatpastes and shipping labels from a retired lesbian on capital hill for $75 and it was still full of ink. my friend gave me her 20 year old canon dslr because she just didn't need it and didn't want to bother selling it. it works fine because I spent the time finding the right drivers and shit for my computer. and card readers exist. Craigslist. Facebook marketplace. nextdoor sales section. eBay. everyone always forgets eBay. eBay lets you save searches and will email you when it finds a guy selling his vinyl plotter in your city with local pickup. I'm serious

[brattyspence]

virginia is for lovers | s.reid

summary: model!reader accidentally exposes their relationship through a soft launch instagram post

tags: model!reader x spencer, penelope included <3, smau

a/n: this is kinda short n pointless but i wanted a reason to write reader tweeting abt spencer and its been in my drafts for weeks so

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

Spencer had worked hard to keep you a secret. 

Not because he wasn’t thrilled to be in your life, because he really, really was. Historically, things had a tendency to go south as soon as word got out, especially when it came to his personal life. 

You had met in a bookstore. It was a short interaction; you were busy debating which translation of The Stranger was most appropriate to read. You must have been standing in the aisle of the bookstore a little too long, holding two copies side by side, when he had offered his two cents on the matter.

Typically, you weren’t one to entertain conversation in public. Nine times out of ten, you’d get one word in before the inevitable “Please can I take a picture? I love your blog so much!”, but this was different. You weren’t even sure he had even seen your face before he started talking to you. He wasn’t initially trying to hit on you, either. He was genuinely excited that someone was willing to listen to him ramble about the differences between the Ward and Guilbert translations, so when you responded in such a way that asked him to continue on, he was surprised. 

That day, you’d left the store with four more books than intended, and a single bookmark where he had written his phone number after you asked for it.  He had asked you for your name; a confirmation that he actually had no idea who you were. 

The rest was history. You saw him whenever possible, spent nights on the phone together, and flew across the country often just to see him. You loved having a relationship that didn’t need to be public, but you were also excited to share bits of it with the world.

It was late at night, and he was sitting at his desk in the bullpen, trying to finish the last of the paperwork he’d been assigned, when he heard commotion from Penelope’s office. He figured it was nothing new; probably just some news about the royal family or one of the real housewives again, but she’d thrown her door open in such a way that it garnered attention from everyone in the office.

“Spencer Reid,” She gripped her phone and rushed across the room with determination. “Do you have something you want to share with me?”

He looked up from his paperwork, furrowing his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Why are you on my Instagram feed?” She placed her phone on his desk in front of him. 

“I’m not on instagram,” he replied. 

“Oh, but you are,” she said. “You are such a little liar. I can’t wait to tell Derek about this.”

She pushed his paperwork aside, plopping her phone down in front of him. It was a slideshow on instagram. A photo of the most recent bouquet he bought for you. A few from the museum you’d visited together, including several where his hands or shoes were visible, but nothing that really pointed to him. He could almost make the argument Penelope was mistaken, until the last photo, which included just enough of his apartment to confirm her questioning.

“You said you were seeing someone and I thought… someone from a chess tournament, or maybe… oh, I don't know. Literally anyone else? But you bagged a model?” 

“I-” he sighed. “How did you find her?”

“I didn’t find her, Spencer. I’ve followed her for years! I see her posts all the time. I can’t believe you.”

He scrolled down.

liked by @jjareau and others

@yourusername: virginia is for lovers :)                                              posted 12 hours ago

↪ @randomuser1: GIRL STOP TEASING WHO IS HE

↪ @randomuser3: i’ve been trying to figure it out since that tweet last month 😞

↪ @randomuser2: this is the sweetest soft launch i’ve ever seen <3

↪ 12k comments

He clicked onto your profile. 

@yourusername 

5.2M Followers

Followed by @jjareau, @emp.sergio and more

“You’ve got to see her Twitter, lover boy. She’s been gushing about you.”

“Oh, god,” he groans. So much for privacy. He lets her take the phone back, redirecting his attention to your Twitter page. She scrolls back to June before handing it over, letting him read in chronological order.

June 10

@yourusername: hot girl summer is officially over. just asked a man for HIS number.

June 25

@yourusername: is it offensive to men if you call them pretty? bc this man is rlly pretty 

@yourusername: update: apparently it is not :)

July 30:

@yourusername: good morning text + picture of a dog that he claims reminded him of me???? gonna ask for his hand in marriage

August 15

@yourusername: up til 2 bc hes explaining quantum mechanics to me 🧚🏻

@yourusername: embarrassed to say that form of dirty talk worked on me 

August 20

@yourusername: oh btw im a girlfriend now!

↪@yourfan1: look u long enough wtf girl

↪@yourusername: dw im locking him down 🫡

↪@yourfan2: thats OUR man now 💘

“Oh, wow.”

She takes the phone back. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Or me? Oh, this is great news. You’re bringing her to Rossi’s next, week, right?”

“I- Pen, I have no idea.” He laughs. He watches her type away on the device aggressively. “Are you texting everyone?”

“Yuh-huh. I need to call JJ, like… yesterday. And this isn't the end of this conversation!” She darted back into her office quickly, letting the door fall shut behind her.

He decided his remaining paperwork could wait. He packed his things up in a hurry, and decided to head out of the office, dialing your number on the way out. 

You picked up on the first ring. 

“Hey,” you started. “How was work? Are you heading out?”

“Yeah,” He started. He pushed through the glass doors of the office, staring towards the stairwell. “It was… busy. I just had a really interesting conversation with my coworker.”

“Mhm…” You had been lounging in your hotel room waiting for his call. “About..?”

“You, actually.” He replied. “She follows you on instagram. Apparently most of the office does. She showed me your post today.”

“Oh,” you replied. “Oh god, Spence. I’m sorry. I didn’t think… anyone would be able to tell who you were.”

He laughs. “Yeah, well… I work with some… characters. It’s totally fine, though.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, anxiously.

“Yeah. It was cute,” he replied, smiling to himself as he exited the building. “Tasteful.”

“That's what I wanted,” You reply.

“I thought Twitter was much more interesting, though.”

You froze, cringing. “Oh, god. Tell me you didn't read all of it.

He chuckles. “I skimmed it.”

You groan. 

[rosemariiaa]

𝙃𝘼𝙇𝙁𝙒𝘼𝙔 𝙎𝙏𝙍𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎

00 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚, 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚.

a/n: long awaited pazzi series.. let’s hope I can be consistent with these chapters and not forget about after a few weeks.happy ready lovelies ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings: none!

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

“I’m afraid to see what’s in my head ,

So I lock it up in my heart”

I’ve never been great with people. Sure, I can hold a conversation, crack a joke, make some friends. But there’s always this weird distance—like I’m just performing, pretending to be someone I’m not. The truth is, I’m not as confident as people think I am. I hate being vulnerable. But she made it easier.

I still remember the first time she reached out to me. Her message popped up on my computer late one night, while I was scrolling through my Blogspot—my little corner of the internet where I could just… breathe. No one knew who I was on there. Just a girl venting about life, school, basketball, and the tangled mess that was my head.

She said she’d been reading my posts for a while and liked them. She said she didn’t have anyone else to talk to, and honestly, I didn’t either. So we started messaging. At first, it was just random stuff—homework, teachers, the usual teenage nonsense.

But soon enough, she started opening up more. Things I never expected to hear. About her family. Her stepdad. The kids at school who made her feel invisible. She told me how her mom remarried, and how everything felt off after that. I didn’t know why she was sharing all this with me, someone she’d never met, someone who was practically a stranger. But there was something about it. Something that made it feel right.

We got into the deeper stuff too—the insecurities, the self-doubt, the anger at things we couldn’t control. And yeah, I shared my own stuff too. It wasn’t the same, but it was close enough. My parents getting divorced. Moving from place to place. The pressure to be perfect all the time. I guess it’s easier when you don’t have to show your face. She wasn’t some random person to me anymore. She was… real.

She called me “her safe space.” And for some reason, I was okay with that. I think I needed her as much as she needed me, even if I couldn’t admit it back then. It was like she understood me in a way no one else did.

But the thing is, I never told her who I really was. She didn’t need to know I was Paige Bueckers, the basketball player everyone at school thought they knew. She didn’t need know I was just a girl trying to figure out where I fit in all of this.

It was just us. She and I. We could be ourselves without pretending. And that felt… like a goddamn relief.

But that was the thing—she was just an anonymous name on a screen. I didn’t know who she was either. Not really. I only knew what she shared, what she let me see.

Then came that night. The night I saw her name pop up in the chat, just like always. But this time, it wasn’t just her usual message. It was a question. “What if we could meet? Like, in real life?” Oh.

I froze. And my stomach did this weird flip.

I didn’t know how to answer. I didn’t even know if I wanted to. What if she was someone I knew? What if she was someone I was supposed to hate? What if… it was her?

————

tag list ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @sierrale8ne @ohbueckers @juspeaks @mrsarnold @d3arapril @authentic-girl03 @absolutelydreadful

[hippiegoth97]

Random Spencer Reid Thought #1

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, fem!reader, bau!reader, new relationship, sex at work, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, fingering, no use of Y/N, caught in the act (kinda, at the end), fluff

Some Tags: @hotwritergf @melodymunson @rafeyscurtainbangs @mediocredreams @loserboysandlithium

@bloodibambiidoll @littlexdeaths @sanctumdemunson @cairro-xx @veemoon (tbh I wasn't sure who all to tag, so I tagged some moots and people I know usually read my stuff. Feel free to ignore if it's not your thing tho lol)

"I swear to god, you're gonna get us caught one of these days, Reid." You say breathlessly, tugging on Spencer's tie to keep his lips close to yours. You'd dragged him into a nearby supply closet after the rest of the team had dispersed for lunch, most of them heading to a new BBQ place nearby. They'd asked you and Spencer to come along, but you've both had much more pressing things on your mind.

From the second you came in this morning (separately, of course, even though he'd stayed the night at your place), your eyes have wandered from your work to each other's desks from across the cluster. It's been absolute torture, forced to sit so far apart, unable to touch each other or whisper all the dirty things you plan to do later. All you had to get yourself by was vivid thoughts of Spencer tossing his papers away, stalking over to you, and bending you over your desk to fuck you silly. You're sure he was picturing similar filthy things, given how often he cleared his throat and crossed or uncrossed his legs. Although, the ideas inside his head are usually more centered around getting down on his knees and burying his face between your thighs. It's a wonder that nobody seemed to notice your discomfort, really. The amount of stolen glances and fidgeting in your seats are certainly behaviors that should set off a profiler's internal alarms. But, thus far, you've managed to fly just below everyone's radar.

You've been seeing each other for a few months now, keeping it a secret from everybody else. It started off as a fluke date shortly after you joined the BAU team, and Spencer took a shine to your quick wit and bottomless well of intellect in no time at all. He'd asked you out for coffee (after a barrage of peer-pressuring encouragement from Morgan), wanting to show you around a bit as you were new to the area at the time. Spencer was a complete gentleman, opening the door for you, pulling out your chair, offering you his jacket when you got cold. Add on the way you talked one another's ears off about everything under the sun, moon and stars, and you were hooked on each other in an instant. Neither of you had met anyone who could keep up, or maintain your interest before. By the time he walked you home that night, you shared in the knowledge that this...spark you felt was something special.

Things progressed rather quickly from there. You've gone out together at least once a week, even sneaking out at night during cases to get some quality time in. A dinner here, a tipsy make-out in either of your hotel rooms there, as well as more educational outings to the planetarium, various lectures, and art exhibits when you're at home base. It didn't take long to heat things up, either. Spencer was less experienced than you, having only a couple casual hook-ups under his belt, which went as awkwardly as one would expect. But you were patient with him, showing him what you like and what you don't, helping him figure out the same for himself. It was a simultaneously experimental and exhilarating experience for you both when you finally had sex the first time.

And now, here you are, all wandering hands and moaning mouths in a closet full of office supplies. Spencer's got you sitting on a metal filing cabinet, legs spread in your pencil skirt as he stands between them. His large hands grip and squeeze your thighs, while he rolls his hips to press his erection against your clothed cunt. "Don't act as if the idea of getting found out doesn't turn you on." Spencer teases, smiling against your lips as you tug him forward into another kiss.

"Maybe a little." You admit, letting his tongue slip into your mouth. Your eyes drift closed, and you feel his hand slowly slip further down your leg and under your skirt. His lithe fingers pull your panties to the side, rubbing sensual circles around your clit. You moan down his throat, your own hands reaching blindly for his belt now. You don't have a lot of time, as much as you hate to rush this.

"We should tell them soon. It's only a matter of time before they catch on." Spencer suggests, slipping two fingers into your soaked pussy with ease. The sound he ends up swallowing from your lungs makes his dick twitch inside his pants. Never in his life did he think he'd be so lucky to find a woman like you, or a woman at all, for that matter. Spencer enjoys every moment spent with you like it's his last, and it's been nice existing in this safe romantic bubble. But sneaking around has its disadvantages, namely having to keep his hands to himself when you're around the team. Far be it from Reid to be unprofessional in any sense, but, fuck, it's so hard to behave when you're around.

"I know, Penelope's been dropping lots of extra hints lately." You say with a light laugh, your insides boiling as Spencer curls his digits inside of you. They're perfectly long and slender, reaching all the right places every time. He's made you come with them alone on many occasions.

"I noticed. She's not very subtle." Reid chuckles, his gaze drifting down as you manage to get his belt unfastened. You waste no time in undoing to button and zip, reaching inside his boxers to grab hold of his aching length. According to you, he's very well endowed. Even though he's aware the average size of male genitalia is 5.1 inches when erect, he's never gotten curious enough to measure himself. A brief visual guess probably puts him at around seven or eight, not that he's all that concerned about it. All he cares about it making you happy, and his mind is far too vast to be fixated on how long his cock is.

"I don't think she ever has been." You comment, eyes focused on Spencer's dick in your grasp. He's rock solid, his tip rosy pink and leaking pearlescent precum. The sight makes your pussy throb around Reid's fingers. If you had more time, you'd drop to your knees in an instant.

"And that's why we love her." Spencer adds, groaning as you stroke him nice and slow. The both of you keep this up for a moment, zeroing in on one another's most sensitive areas that you've craved all day. Soft sighs and moans leave your mouths, mingling with the wet schlick sounds of your foreplay. "But, enough about the team." He says softly, meeting your gaze. His free hand cups your cheek, drawing you in closer as you stare into his beautiful brown eyes. "This moment is just for us." He nearly whispers as he kisses you deeply, lovingly. Neither of you have dropped the 'L' word yet, though you both certainly feel it for one another. But the time to say it definitely isn't during a lunchtime quickie in a damn closet. The occasion will present itself, at a later date.

While Spencer has your attention captured in the kiss, he gently takes his cock from your grasp and into his own. He gasps against you, tangling his tongue with yours to make your knees weak, just like you taught him. He gives his dick a couple fervent strokes, taking his fingers out of your cunt so he can line himself up. You whine at the loss, though your stomach twists in anticipation of what will soon take their place. Using his pruned fingers to hold your panties to the side, the sticky tip of Spencer's cock nudges against your center. More moans brew within your throats, kept hidden inside to prevent you from being discovered.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, hands tangling in his hair as you melt into him. His lips and tongue make you feel dizzy with lust, and his cockhead rutting against your folds is sending you into orbit. "Spence, please. I need you, baby." You plead between desperate kisses.

"I need you, too, you have no idea." Reid replies, pulling back just a moment so he can see what he's doing. He positions his dick at your entrance, and pushes inside at an agonizing pace. Low moans escape you both, you at the stretch, and him at the squeeze. "Fuck, you're so wet." Spencer says, trying to keep his cool.

"All for you, Spence." You say sweetly, locking your ankles behind his back, pulling him as close to you as possible with your legs. His hands return to your thighs, holding on tight as he begins to thrust.

Spencer starts off slow, watching as his cock pumps in and out of your pussy with no resistance. Your arousal makes him all shiny in the dim light, already forming a creamy ring around his base. "God, you're perfect." He exhales, unable to think of a single thing that looks as beautiful as this. The two of you, becoming one, your interlocking parts sculpted by nature to fit together flawlessly. Nothing within his expansive memory could possibly compare.

"So are you, baby. Can you go faster? We're running out of time." You beg pathetically, needing this release before you inevitably have to go back to work filling out papers and looking over crime scene photos.

"I hate how right you are about that." Spencer replies with a broken sigh, picking up speed with his thrusts. The infallibly accurate internal clock you share is ticking down, every push of his hips against yours marking each second that's taken from you. He plants his lips on yours again, focusing on giving you what those desperate noises you're making are telling him. You need him, all of him. Every last inch rutting into your sopping cunt until you see stars. And when it comes to you, Reid always aims to please.

"Fuck, Spence, just like that." You pant between fervent kisses, marveling at the way his cock pounds into your g-spot with flawless precision. The coil of arousal you've been building up since you sat down with your coffee this morning ripples and tangles with every thrust.

It becomes rather difficult for Spencer to keep kissing you when his pace picks up even more. His head falls forward, resting on your shoulder as he continues to wind you both up towards ecstasy. He turns his head slightly, hatching the naughty idea to speak lowly in your ear. "I can't wait until we get home later, and I can take my time with you." He says, trying so hard not to let the loud groans he wants to emit come through. They come out as hushed whimpers instead, which only turns you on more.

"Fuck." You let out a small noise of your own, muted as you bite down on your lower lip. But he hears it all the same, and keeps going.

"I'll spend all night touching you in all your favorite places, fuck you until the sun comes up, make you cry out for me as many times as you ask me to." His words are equally filthy and adoring, showing you just how much he wants to worship you and your body. Chills run up and down your spine as he speaks, his breath burning hot against your neck. It's nearly too much, and yet, you can't enough.

"God, Spence, please don't stop!" You moan, far too loudly.

"Now who's gonna get us caught?" Reid teases, even though the way you squealed nearly made him blow his load entirely.

"Sorry...sorry..." You pant the words out, for fear of being too loud again.

"It's okay, baby. I like knowing just how good I make you feel." He coos to you, almost sending you over the edge. Your walls squeeze around him tightly in warning. His breath catches at the sensation, right there with you in terms of how close you are to reaching climax. "God, that's it...you're so close, so am I. Gonna make you cum, gonna make you feel so good, I swear...so fucking good..." Spencer's mind sprints faster than his mouth can get the words out, barely audible as he buries himself further into your neck. He slams himself into you even harder, faster, chasing his release and dragging you alongside him.

"Spencer, oh my god." You gasp as he hits that perfect place inside you cunt even better than before, his hips pounding against yours hard enough to leave bruises. His hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, his mouth sucking and licking at your neck in a feverish need to make you lose control. It's definitely working, the waves of bliss beginning to roll over you in thick crashes. "Oh, god, make me cum, baby...don't stop, you feel so good..." You babble mindlessly as your insides flutter around Reid's dick, threatening to clamp down on him at any moment. "Fuck, oh, I'm gonna cum...oh, god- fuck...oh, spenceSpenceSPENCE!" You clap a hand over your mouth to conceal your scream as your orgasm takes hold. You tremble violently in Spencer's grip, your pussy strangling him with all its might. Stars blur your vision, pure pleasure coursing through your veins at lightning speed. You cling to him, nails clawing at his back, heels digging into his ass helplessly.

"Fuck-ing- god." Spencer stutters out as you squeeze him so tight, biting down hard into your neck to muffle the load groan rushing from his chest. He pierces you sloppily through his release, painting your eager walls with thick ropes of sticky white, hips stuttering and feral grunts leaving him with every stab of his spent cock. He gradually comes to a stop as your shared high subsides, pulling his softening length from you, watching as your mixed release flows from your now-sore cunt. He reaches into his pocket for a kerchief he keeps for such occasions, gazing adoringly into your lust-drunk eyes as he cleans you up. He would use his mouth, if there were time for such things.

You gasp as the soft fabric meets your puffy lips, never breaking Spencer's stare while he takes care of you. You've never felt more in love in your life than you do right now, with your legs still spread wide open, while this gorgeous, scrawny, genius wipes your combined spend away. Once you're all clean, he pulls your skirt back down over your legs, and puts his flaccid cock inside his pants, fastening the belt with casual ease. He helps you down from the cabinet, noting your wobbling legs as you stand in your sensible heels.

"All set?" He asks, earning a giggle from you as his hair has become more of a mess than usual.

"Almost." You say softly, smoothing down his unruly locks to look more presentable, and less like you two just went to town on each other over lunch. "Well, we'd better get back out there. The others should be arriving back now." You say, heading for the door first. You hate to leave at all, but the last thing you need is to get caught right now.

"I'll wait the three minutes, and meet you back in there." Three minutes, the amount of time you'd determined was appropriate enough to excuse you both coming back to the bullpen near the same time without raising suspicion. No one bats an eye at three minutes difference. It could be explained away as a coffee refill, a bathroom break, anything really. But returning at the same time? Or leaving this small room at the same time? Out of the question. You'd made the mistake of returning at the same time once, and you didn't hear the end of it from the team for a good three days, despite the assertion that you and Reid had been in separate places at the time.

"Okay. See you then." You nod, giving him a quick kiss. You open the door, checking to see if the coast is clear. Satisfied with your findings, you step out from the closet, closing the door behind you. You're about to turn and walk in the direction of the bullpen, when you end up smack dab in front of Penelope. You have no idea where she came from just now, or how long she's been hiding out. But the sly smirk on her face tells you she knows enough. "Hey, Garcia. How was your lunch?" You ask nervously, failing to play it cool.

"Oh, it was good. I brought some leftover eggplant parmesan from home." Penelope replies, nearly bursting with the knowledge that you and Reid have indeed been hooking up, as she rightly suspected. "How was yours?" She asks coyly, biting her lip as she expects you to spill all the gory details she couldn't hear through the door.

"It was...fine. I packed a lunch as well." You answer, clearing your throat.

"Oh, I'm sure you packed something. What did you have? Some sausage maybe? Or a footlong?" Penelope continues to tease, and at this point, you know the jig is up.

"Oh, alright! Yes, I did! You happy now?" You exclaim, rolling your eyes as your arms cross out of reflex.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Garcia chuckles, doing one of the dorkiest victory dances you've ever seen. The few passersby give her a sideways glance, but she doesn't pay them any mind.

"Okay, okay!" You put your hands on her shoulders to still her, meeting her eyes. "Look, can you just promise me you won't say anything? Spencer and I plan to tell everyone when the time is right, but we like keeping this thing to ourselves for now. Alright?" You implore with her to keep her mouth shut, for your sake, as your friend, and Spencer's.

"Yeah, I can do that." She nods in understanding, pulling you in for a hug. "I'm so happy for you guys!" She squeals, getting excited again.

"Thanks, Garcia. I appreciate that." You smile, returning her embrace.

"So do I." Spencer says from the other side of the door.

"You better treat her right, pretty boy! Or mama is gonna get you!" Penelope warns with all the love in the world.

"I fully intend to." Spencer replies, and you can practically see his lovesick expression from out here, and how his eyes must be looking straight at where he imagines you're standing, meaning every one of those four simple words.

[ye4gerz]

escape room - lee haechan

‧˚⭒ pairing: ghost!haechan x afab!reader. mdni! adults only. ‧˚⭒ genre: thriller!au, strangers to lovers, soulmate!yandereau! angst, smut! ‧˚⭒ word count: 6.1k (sorry it’s long!) ‧˚⭒ warnings: voyeurism hc, fingering, oral(f receiving), dirty talk, slight nipple play, choking, multiple orgasms, swearing, obsessive hyuck, mentions of death, dom hc x sub reader. ‧˚⭒ starring: haechan, johnny, ten, mark, reader. ‧˚⭒ summary: when you and your friends sign up for an extreme escape room, you expect clever puzzles and a few jump scares– not real danger. as you navigate eerie traps, the game takes a turn, and suddenly you find yourself separated from the group, alone. at least that’s what you thought, unaware of the familiar shadow lurking besides you.

a/n: hiii everyone, i hope those who read enjoy! this is my first story in years so i’m sorry if it’s not as detailed as could be but hopefully i improve the more i continue to upload. as said before this story is for adults only if i find any minors on my account i will block you. i’m open to feedback or any ideas for future stories. enjoy!

The eerie notes from the piano grow louder, filling the cramped room with an unsettling melody. From the corner, an old record player spins on its own, crackling as it fills the air with static. The noise gradually morphs into a faint whisper, words barely audible over the static.

"Time has just begun."

A chill creeps up your spine. You glance at the others, who stand on edge, their eyes darting around the room as the unsettling atmosphere takes hold. You’d exited the car only minutes earlier, arriving at what was supposed to be an ordinary escape room. As you step toward the entrance, the air thickens with uncomfortable tension, the dim light only emphasizing the building's eerie charm. The old structure seems to exist outside of time, its walls drenched in shadow, barely touched by the weak glow of the single streetlight overhead.

"So this is it? It looks... ancient. You sure you got the address right?" Johnny asks, his voice laced with doubt as he studies the rundown building in front of him.

"Address checks out," Ten replies, glancing down at the map on his phone, then back up at the dark, decrepit building. "This is it, apparently."

Mark shivers, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. "Can we just go inside? My fingers are freezing off," he mutters, eyeing the doorway.

"Mark's right," Johnny chimes in, rubbing his hands together. "Let's just make sure it's still open."

Without further discussion, you all follow Johnny into the building. Inside, a dim, red-hued glow bathes the narrow hallway, where an old wine-colored carpet leads to a black wooden desk at the far end. A single lamp beside the desk casts long shadows against the walls, and the red, tilted lampshade gives the whole scene an otherworldly air.

Behind the desk stands a tall, gaunt man in a navy velvet suit, his frame sharp and dignified. His hair is slicked back with a single blonde strand hanging loose over his forehead. Black leather gloves cover his hands, and his eyes are blank and empty, as if devoid of emotion. He moves with precision, carefully placing a pen down on the desk before turning his attention to your group.

"May I help you?" he asks, his voice smooth, his smile revealing a dimple on his cheek as he flips open a worn booklet filled with room reservations.

Ten steps forward, excitement bright in his eyes. "What's the scariest room you've got here? Something not a lot of people have beaten."

The man's eyes glint with something that looks like amusement—or perhaps a warning. "Room 13," he replies. "It's... challenging. Few have managed to escape. Are you sure you want to proceed?"

You exchange glances with the others, an unspoken agreement passing between you all before Ten grins confidently and says, "Absolutely. We'll take the challenge."

The man inclines his head, pulling a large, iron key from a drawer. "As you wish," he murmurs, stepping from behind the desk. "Follow me."

He leads you down a narrow hallway lined with doors, each one different in design and shape, some small and round, others tall and rectangular. Your footsteps echo ominously as you walk, the creaks in the floor whispering warnings you can’t quite decipher. Finally, you reach the end of the hallway, where a massive, medieval-style door looms in front of you, its iron handle weathered and cold to the touch. The keyhole is unlike any you've ever seen.

The man unlocks the door with deliberate slowness, pausing to glance at each of you, his gaze assessing. "Are you certain you want to enter?" he asks, his voice almost mocking.

Ignoring his subtle warning, you nod along with the others, eager to continue.

Once inside, you find yourself in a dim, unsettling room. The walls are covered with crooked paintings, each one depicting strange, shadowy figures and bleak landscapes. A dusty piano sits in one corner, and a cracked baby doll lies slumped in an old rocking chair, one eye half-shut, its mouth slightly open as if caught mid-scream. The thick, worn red rug beneath your feet has frayed edges, adding to the room’s eerie atmosphere.

"This is beyond creepy," you mutter, glancing warily at Ten. "Your ideas are always a bit much, but this..."

"Before we begin," the man interrupts, capturing your attention, "there are rules to follow. You have ninety minutes to find your way out. Clues are hidden within the room, and they will lead you to your escape. Today's story follows a young man who lost his life in this room. If you free his spirit, he will grant you your escape."

He pauses, eyeing you all seriously. "If time runs out... well, then you've lost."

Ten scoffs, brushing it off. "So, we either win or lose. No big deal, we got this."

The man nods slowly, though you catch a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "One more thing: you get three hints, should you require assistance. If an emergency arises, call my name... Jaehyun."

Your eyes linger on him one last time. "Well, thank you for the rundown, Jaehyun," you say, forcing a smile, your arms crossing as Jaehyun steps back toward the door, the iron key in his hand.

Without another word, Jaehyun closes the door, and a distinct click echoes through the room as the lock engages.

“Wait… did he just lock us in?” Mark asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Relax, it’s just part of the setup,” Johnny replies, his voice casual. “It’ll unlock when we finish.”

Ten, brimming with excitement, claps his hands. “Alright, time’s ticking, guys. Let’s get to it!”

You exchange uncertain glances with the others but eventually begin searching the room, inspecting every corner and crevice. Dust settles on your clothes as you rifle through old books on the shelf, examine each creepy painting, and prod at the cracked doll.

After a few minutes, Johnny spots a series of letters framed on the wall, positioned slightly out of order. Squinting, he reads the faded words aloud:

"Entry 204, I found this nearby a sacred tree. A doll was looking out to the lake, the same lake she was last seen. Her body is gone, but her spirit will find its way back to me. —H.C"

A heavy silence settles over the group.

“Creepy,” Mark mutters, his voice uneasy. “But it’s gotta mean something, right?”

Ten nods, his eyes darting around the room. “Let’s check the doll. There might be a clue with it.”

You and the others gather around the broken doll, studying it closely. Just as you reach out to inspect it, the lights flicker, and the piano plays a single, haunting note, echoing through the room.

Your breaths hitch, unease creeping in as you realize this game might be far darker than any of you had anticipated.

Your breath caught as the note hung in the air, vibrating with a resonance that made the hair on your arms stand up. You exchanged a tense glance with the others, noting the flickers of doubt and unease on their faces.

"Did… did the piano just play on its own?" Mark asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Johnny forced a laugh, though it sounded unsteady. "Probably just part of the scare tactics. They’re really going all out with the haunted vibe here."

You couldn’t shake the creeping dread seeping into your mind, and from the looks on their faces, your friends felt it too. What was supposed to be an ordinary escape room was starting to feel… wrong.

“Let’s just keep going,” Ten said, his voice more subdued now, as if he, too, was shaken. “We’re wasting time, and we’ve only got ninety minutes.”

Your attention returned to the cracked baby doll in the rocking chair, its glassy eyes staring blankly at nothing. Slowly, you leaned in closer, examining its face. One eye was half-open, almost lazily, while the other was wide and unblinking, giving it a disturbingly lifelike appearance. Gently, you lifted the doll, feeling something hard poke through a tear in its fabric.

“There’s something inside,” you murmured, glancing up at the others.

“What is it?” Mark asked, peering over your shoulder.

With a bit of effort, you pried open the small tear, pulling out a tiny brass key, its surface worn but unmistakably real. You held it up to show the group, the key catching a faint glint of the dim light.

“What’s this supposed to open?” Ten wondered, taking the key from your hand to inspect it.

“Maybe it’s for one of the drawers or the bookshelf?” Johnny suggested, already moving toward the old dresser across the room.

As the group tried the key on various locks, a low rumble echoed from somewhere behind the walls, making you shiver. The air felt colder, and the room seemed darker, as if the shadows themselves had thickened, pressing in around you.

After a few tense moments, Johnny tried the key on a drawer in the dresser, and it clicked open. Inside, he found a folded piece of paper, yellowed with age. Carefully, he unfolded it, squinting at the faded text before reading aloud:

"Look beneath the seat where nightmares rest, Where shadows linger and spirits test. The way is hidden, only for those, Who dare to face what fear bestows."

"Under the seat... where nightmares rest?" Ten repeated, glancing around the room. "What does that mean?"

"Maybe the rocking chair?" you suggested, nodding toward the doll’s seat. "It’s creepy enough to count as a ‘nightmare.’"

Mark crouched down beside the chair, reaching underneath it. His fingers brushed something solid—a loose panel. Slowly, he pried it open, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside was another key, this one larger and more worn, and a small, rolled-up map.

Johnny unrolled the map, and everyone crowded around, their faces growing tense as they took in the strange, labyrinthine layout sketched across the parchment. The map didn’t resemble anything you’d seen in the room so far. Instead, it showed a twisting series of rooms, corridors, and strange symbols that were foreign to all of you.

"Is this… part of the room?" Mark asked, glancing around, trying to align what you were seeing on the map with the space around you.

"There’s no way this room has more than one door," Ten said, frowning.

“Maybe there’s a hidden passage,” you suggested, though dread was gnawing at you. The idea of a secret path that led to who-knew-where made your skin crawl.

Ten, still undeterred, nodded. “Yeah, let’s look around. There might be more to this place than we thought.”

You and your friends spread out, examining every corner of the room, pushing against walls, lifting furniture, and inspecting every nook and cranny. Just as you ran your hands along the bookshelf, you felt a slight give beneath your fingers. You pressed harder, and with a slow, creaking sound, the entire bookshelf shifted, sliding aside to reveal a narrow, dark hallway beyond.

Everyone stared, a mixture of intrigue and unease settling over them.

“Okay,” Johnny breathed out, “this is beyond next-level escape room stuff.”

Mark hesitated, casting a wary look down the hallway. “Are we sure this is still part of the game?”

Ten, undeterred, gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “We’ve come this far. Let’s see where it leads.”

The group stepped into the passage, the narrow hallway closing in around you as the shadows seemed to deepen. The air was thick, almost stale, and the walls felt damp, as if they hadn’t been touched in years. Your footsteps echoed through the silence, each one seeming to amplify the tension thrumming beneath your skin.

After a few minutes, you stopped, shining your flashlight down an unexpected fork in the path. “Which way?”

Before anyone could answer, a loud slam echoed behind you, making everyone jump. Spinning around, you saw that the passage behind had closed, sealing you in.

"No way," Mark whispered, running back to the door and pressing against it. But it didn’t budge.

“It’s probably just part of the game,” Ten said, though even he sounded uncertain.

“Left or right?” Johnny asked, glancing down each path. “Standing here isn’t going to help us.”

Without much choice, you picked the left path, leading the group deeper into the twisting hallways. But as you turned a corner, something unexpected happened—a force tugged you sharply by the arm, pulling you off balance. Before you could react, you found yourself separated from the others, pulled down a narrow side passage that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Guys!” you called out, panic rising in your voice.

You heard the faint sound of your friends calling back, their voices echoing, but they grew distant, fainter, until they vanished entirely. You were alone.

Your heart pounded as you steadied yourself, gripping your flashlight tightly. You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. The narrow corridor was cloaked in shadow, and you slowly raised your flashlight, scanning the dark space ahead. That’s when you saw him—a young man, standing just a few steps away, watching you with an intense gaze that sent a shiver down your spine.

He was tall, with dark, messy hair and sharp, striking features. His clothes were worn, his eyes shadowed and tired. Beyond the exhaustion, there was something else in his gaze—a quiet desperation, as though he’d been waiting for someone to find him.

"Are you… lost too?" you asked cautiously, not daring to step closer.

The man’s lips lifted in a small, weary smile. “You could say that. I’ve been here… longer than I can remember. It’s been a few days, give or take. I didn’t think I’d ever see another person again.”

Your pulse quickened. “Days? You’ve been trapped in here that long?”

He nodded, shadows dancing in his eyes. “One minute, I was here with some friends. The next, they were gone. Just like that.”

You swallowed, fear twisting in your gut. “My friends and I… we thought this was just an escape room, but nothing about this place feels right.”

He took a slow step closer, his gaze softening. “Maybe we should stick together. I’d hate for you to end up alone like me.”

You nodded slowly, relief flooding through you. “I’m Y/N.”

“Haechan,” he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Let’s find your friends and get out of here.”

With Haechan by your side, you ventured further into the maze of hallways, each step taking you deeper into the unknown. But as you walked, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that clung to you, a feeling that Haechan’s eyes held secrets he wasn’t willing to reveal.

All you can do is hope and pray you see your friends again.

The dim hallway stretches on in front of you, shadows clinging to the walls and making it difficult to see more than a few steps ahead. Every footstep feels heavy, the silence around you broken only by the occasional creak or groan from the aged structure. Haechan walks beside you, his presence oddly comforting amidst the overwhelming gloom, though something about him remains unsettling.

After a few minutes, you can’t help but ask, “So… how exactly did you get stuck here?”

Haechan lets out a small sigh, glancing over at you with a shadowed expression. “It’s a long story,” he replies. His voice is calm, almost too calm, and a shiver prickles at the back of your neck.

“We’ve got time,” you say softly, clutching your flashlight a little tighter. “If we’re going to find my friends and make it out, I should know what we’re dealing with and who I’m talking to.”

Haechan considers your words for a moment before nodding. “Alright. I was here with a group of friends, not unlike yours. We thought this was just an escape room—a haunted one, sure, but nothing dangerous. But once we entered, everything felt… wrong. Just like you’re probably feeling now.”

You nod, feeling a chill run down your spine. The thought that others had gone through the same confusion and fear unsettles you even more. “So what happened?”

He lets out a soft sigh, his voice dropping to a whisper. “At first, we tried to solve the puzzles, thinking it was all part of the game. But every clue we found led us deeper and deeper, to darker places that didn’t feel like they should exist. Eventually, we started getting separated. One by one, my friends disappeared… and I haven’t seen them since.”

His words hit you hard, your heart twisting with fear and sympathy. You imagine your own friends, separated from each other, wandering alone in these eerie, twisting hallways.

“Do you think… do you think your friends are okay?” you ask hesitantly, afraid of the answer.

Haechan is silent for a moment, and when he finally speaks, his tone is dark. “I don’t know, but this place… it’s haunted. It’s not a normal escape room. It’s something much worse.”

His words linger in the air, and a tight knot of fear forms in your chest. “Haunted? What do you mean?”

He glances at you, his eyes gleaming strangely in the dim light. “I’ve seen things here. Shadows that move on their own, voices that whisper in empty rooms… This isn’t a game. This place was created by people who wanted to watch others suffer, who find entertainment in fear and despair.”

A shiver runs through you as his words sink in. “So, they’re just… watching us? For their own sick entertainment?”

He nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “Exactly. They trap people here, turning their fear into a spectacle for whoever is watching. Once you’re here, it’s nearly impossible to leave, never able to see your loved ones ever again.”

You bite your lip, glancing around the dark hallway as anxiety gnaws at you. Your hands are shaking as you clasp them together, murmuring a silent prayer for your friends. The weight of your worry presses down on you, and you can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as the hopelessness begins to creep in.

“Don’t worry too much, sweetheart,” Haechan says, his voice soft and soothing. “I’m here with you. I’ll help you find your friends.”

You nod, giving him a small, shaky smile. His calm presence does ease some of your fear, though a part of you wonders how he can be so composed. But as you focus on his steady gaze, something flickers in his eyes, something you can’t quite place—a look of satisfaction, as though he’s pleased by your fear. For a moment, the corners of his mouth lift into a small, almost imperceptible smirk.

But when you blink, the expression is gone, replaced with a look of earnest concern.

You brush off the uneasy feeling, telling yourself it’s just the atmosphere of the place playing tricks on you. “So, you’ve really been here… for days?”

He nods, keeping his gaze trained on you. “More or less. Time feels different here. You start to lose track of it after a while. Some days, it feels like hours are slipping by in minutes, and other days, it feels like I’ve been wandering for centuries.”

You can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy. “That must be terrible. Being alone for so long… I can’t imagine how you must feel.”

His eyes soften, and he looks at you with a gentle intensity that sends warmth spreading through you. “It was… until now.”

You feel your cheeks heat up under his gaze, his words lingering in your mind. There’s something both comforting and unsettling about him, a duality that leaves you unsure of how to feel. He’s kind, attentive, a stranger nonetheless, but there’s a unusual shadow in his eyes, an intensity that you can’t quite shake.

As you walk further down the corridor, a sudden chill sweeps through the air, making you shiver. Haechan notices and steps closer to you, his hand brushing against yours. “You’re safe with me,” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring. “I promise.”

But despite his comforting words, something about the way he says it feels… off. The reassurance feels too practiced, like he’s said it a thousand times before, knowing exactly how it would affect you. You glance at him, meeting his gaze, and you swear you catch another glint of amusement, almost like he’s enjoying your unease.

Shaking off the thought, you try to refocus on finding your friends. “Do you think… they’re okay? My friends, I mean.”

Haechan pauses, as if considering his answer. “Maybe. If they’re smart, they’ll find a way to keep moving, just like we are.” He gives you a comforting smile, but that flicker of darkness in his gaze hasn’t fully disappeared.

You murmur another silent prayer, hoping your friends are safe, wherever they are.

As you continue through the twisted corridors, a realization starts to dawn on you—something about Haechan’s demeanor doesn’t quite add up. The calmness, the knowing glances… It’s as though he’s hiding something, and each time you catch a glimpse of his eyes, it’s as if he’s letting a bit of the mask slip, showing you a side of him he’s trying to keep hidden.

Finally, unable to shake the uneasy feeling, you glance at him and ask, “You said you’ve been here for a long time… How have you managed to survive all this time? Isn’t there any way out?”

Haechan smiles, a strange, almost secretive smile that sends a new chill down your spine. “Oh, I’ve managed,” he replies vaguely. “I’ve learned a lot about this place. Enough to know that it’s better not to trust anyone. Not even me.”

You freeze, your heart racing as his words sink in. “What… what do you mean?”

He gives you a long, intense look, his expression unreadable. “I mean, you don’t know who or what you’re dealing with here. That’s part of what makes it so interesting, don’t you think?”

The realization hits you like a cold wave– you aren’t sure if Haechan is telling the truth, or if he’s been playing with you all along. But the look in his eyes, that glint of amusement and satisfaction as he watches your fear grow, leaves you with a terrifying suspicion.

This man, this stranger you’ve been trusting, isn’t lost like you are. He isn’t just another victim of this twisted game. He’s something else entirely, something far more dangerous– he's apart of the game.

As he steps closer, that smirk creeping onto his face once more, you realize that he doesn’t want to help you escape.

“What are you–” you begin, but Haechan shushes you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He leans in, his presence overwhelming as you find your back against the wall, and arms pressed above your head.

His smirk widens as he leans close, his voice soft but chilling. “This is your first challenge, sweetheart. Try to escape me.”

Your heart races, and without a second thought, you shove him off and sprint down the dark hallway, feeling his gaze burning into your back. At this point, you can’t focus on directions or clues; all you want is to find your friends and get back to safety.

From behind, his mocking voice echoes through the hallway, closer than you expected. “It’s too late, sweetheart. Your friends won’t be looking for you any time soon. You’re stuck with me, after years of being apart.”

Before you know it, his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you through a hidden door concealed by shadows. You stumble inside, disoriented by the sudden brightness. Unlike every room you’ve seen so far, this one is consumed by light, making you squint as your eyes adjust, your back resting on the padded floor.

Haechan’s smirk hasn’t faded. In the brightness, you take in his features more clearly—his sharp jawline, the glint in his dark eyes, the smirk playing at his lips. You hate to admit it, but his presence is overwhelming in an unsettling yet strangely magnetic way.

He hovers over you, his gaze locked onto you, his eyes roaming as though he’s savoring your unease. He leans in, brushing his lips close to your ear. “Don’t fight it,” he whispers. “This is where the real game begins.”

Before you know it, his lips are against yours, and you find yourself kissing him back. It feels insane, but something about him draws you in, almost as if you're under a spell, a force you can't resist.

He pulls away, his chest heaving, his eyes darker now, pupils wide with desire. "The moment I saw you, I knew," he murmurs, his voice thick with desperation as he cups your face in his hands. "I knew you were the one to set me free. I've been waiting lifetimes for you."

A shiver runs through you as his words sink in. Your brows knit together. "Who... who are you?" The question slips out more like a plea than anything else.

His lips curl into a smirk, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. "Everything you've been waiting for. There's a reason we're drawn to each other." He tuts softly, eyes gleaming.

"Who do you think led your spirit here?"

Your gaze flickers around the room, realizing he's still hovering over you, his body pressing you into the ground. When your eyes lock again, you feel it—a pulse of craving, dark and intense, matching the hunger in his gaze

Suddenly, nothing matters anymore. All that exists is the heat between you, the electric pull that holds you both in place, and the thrill of his body pressed so close to yours.

Your lips crash against his, this time initiated by you. He's momentarily stunned, taking a second to adjust, but before you can even let out a whine, he matches your movements.

His hands find their way to your waist– his thumb rubbing circles against your skin. “Is this what you want? To remind you of my touch?” His knee placing pressure against your core.

A faint moan escapes your lips, you know this was so wrong, but feels so right. Your hips buckling– trying to match his rhythm as you attempt to ride his knee. “Hae..chan….”

His name slipping through your thoughts causes his eyes to darken. He lifts your hips up, your leggings quickly being tugged off your skin.

It didn’t take him long enough to get you wet. His mouth practically drooling while admiring your core.

His face inching closer to you, very rapidly feeling his breath against your heat causing you to slightly lift your hips. “No teasing… please,” you whimper, unable to wait any longer for him.

Haechan lets out a slight laugh, sounding cynical. “I’m sorry baby, I just like to admire what’s mine.”

Before you can respond his fingers found their way to your clit, rubbing small slow circles over your underwear. His eyes nearly burning into your soul, the way he watches every single one of your reactions, feeding off of them.

Before you could plea for more, Haechan pulls your undergarment to aside, working his mouth against your core. His tongue lapping against your swollen clit, leading all the way down to where you were nearly dripping for him. He saw this as an opportunity to get rid of the last piece of clothing concealing your lower half, gripping your thighs, and yanking you closer to his mouth.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he moans against you, the vibrations of his voice to your body sending you in chills.

You had so many questions to ask him. You wanted to know who he really is, what he is really is. Yet, here you are having a stranger eat you out. What bothers you more is the immediate attraction and pull you feel toward him. You’ve had your fair share of one-night stands and exes, but none of them have ever affected you the way Haechan does.

The feeling was all too much for your body to handle, your eyes practically glued to the ceiling– seeing stars.

Haechan notices this, his mouth releasing from sucking at your clit. He slaps the side of your ass, causing you to jolt looking down to his eyes.

“Focus baby, I want you to watch how I fuck your pretty pussy– I mean look at this,” he slams two fingers into you, the sharp breath you intake being the only thing keeping you on alert.

He growls at the feeling of your insides squeezing desperately against his fingers, but before he gets ahead of himself he takes them out slowly. With his other hand, he grabs your face, looking directly into each other’s heavy eyes– he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking the mess you left on them.

A moan escapes your lips, “I need more…please…”

“What more do you need, princess? Is this not enough for you?” His fingers find their way back inside of you, thrusting hard but slow, his thumb matching the same rhythm on your clit.

“Are my fingers not enough for you? Are you worried your friends might find you like this?” Suddenly the door slams wide open as if it were by a gust of wind, assuming it was Haechan’s work.

By reflexes you attempt to shut your legs together, squirming beneath him. You know your friends are probably on the other side of the building right now looking for you– but the thought of them finding you being fucked by this ‘entity’ triggers a rush of excitement through your body.

He holds your legs apart with his free arm. Between Haechan’s teases, the pace against your core, and the pressure of his thumb– you were more than ready for your release.

“F-Fuck… I’m going to–”

“Do it, baby. Cum all over my fingers. Show the world how desperate you are to get your pussy fingered by me,” his pace fastens, his face desperate to watch you collapse on him.

“Haechan!” You scream his name as loud as possible, his fingers continuing to ride out your orgasm. It felt as if a life time of pleasure within the time of him slowing down his pace, to you finally catching your breath back as he slides right out of you.

The emptiness from inside you causes you to frown. You didn’t notice till this moment, Haechan had taken off his clothing while you were recovering, finally getting rid of the rest of yours.

“You did so good for me, princess,” his lips trailing from the side of your face to your neck, eventually to your breasts.

You take a deep breath, still not fully recovered from your previous high. “I’m still sensitive,” you murmur to him as his tongue flicks over your nipple, his spit already coating them.

He pushes himself off of you, repositioning you both so that this time, you’re on top of him. Your eyes face the still–open door ahead of you, while he faces the wall behind you. You look down as you two align yourselves together, practically teasing each other.

You couldn’t help but stare at his cock, cursing yourself as you didn’t notice how thick and big he is.

The thought of him being inside you sends a shiver down your spine and your lip quivering. “You’re so big... I need to feel you, I want to feel you inside of me please. No more games,” your face grows hot after realizing how pathetic you sound, but this only sends Haechan to laugh in response.

“You want it so bad? Well if that’s what you want–” before he finishes his sentence he grabs you by the waist slamming you down into him. “Then that’s what you fucking get,” he groans into your ear.

A few curses and moans left your lips as you watch his cock disappear into your insides. The sound of your wetness against his skin filling not only the room but echoing in the hallway as well. His thumb pressing over the indentation of his cock against your skin, whimpers escaping him due to the sight. This was everything and more than what he had been waiting for.

Your hands find their way to his dark hair, grabbing a good amount as you fuck yourself on him, grinding down to his own rhythm. His hands find their way to your throat, squeezing the right amount to have your eyes rolling back.

“That’s right baby, put on a show for everyone to see. Let’s show everyone how good I fuck you– how needy you get, begging to be filled up. I hope your pathetic friends walk by any second to watch as my cock fills you up… but I bet you would like that huh? Look at you, trying to escape my cock knowing how much you fucking want it,” He grunts, his hips lifting as he starts fucking himself deeper into you.

“Answer me when I speak to you,” he slaps your ass again, the stinging sensation bringing you back to the moment.

“Yes!” You scream.

“Yes what?”

“Yes! I want everyone to see how good you fuck me! I want them to see you fill me up!”

That famously known smirk appearing on his face for a last time before he flips you over on your back again, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder to bury himself deeper into you.

“I want you to say my name when you cum, baby. You think you’re capable of that, hm?” His pace fastens on you.

You body starting to shake from the pleasure as he starts hitting your sweet spot, his thrusts causing an additional burst of pleasure against your clit.

“Haechan! Haec..” you scream his name as if it were the only word you ever knew. Your insides throbbing tightly against him, he curses under his breath twitching inside you as you bring him to his release, letting his seed drip down your thigh.

You groan at the feeling of him leaving you, already missing the warmth he brought. The both of you finding yourselves back to reality and that’s when it all started hitting.

You just had sex with some sort of supernatural entity.

And you liked it.

You feel Haechan’s warm breath against your ear as his voice drops to a low whisper. “Your friends… they’re free to go. As for you, sweetheart…” His eyes lock with yours, and this time, they’re filled with something deeper, darker—a fierce longing mixed with possessiveness, a completion he’s longed for.

He brushes his thumb over your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You don’t remember me,” he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours, “but we’ve been together before… lifetimes ago. We were meant to be, you and I.” He traces his thumb along your jaw, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “When you lost your life back then, I followed soon after. I’ve been stuck here ever since, a place where lost souls are tied to, searching. I’ve been waiting for your spirit to return back to me.”

A chill runs through you, your heart racing as his words sink in. Your mind scrambles to process what he’s saying, but you can’t deny the strange pull, the connection that seems to tether you to him. It feels… ancient, familiar in a way you can’t explain.

He leans in closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours. “You may not remember, but I know you feel it too. You’ve always been mine.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, both thrilling and unsettling, and for a moment, you feel yourself drawn into his world, his promise of an eternal bond. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his touch possessive yet filled with an almost aching tenderness. “Now that you’re here,” he whispers, “we can finally be together. Forever.”

Your stomach twists as his words linger in your mind. Slowly, the reality sets in—while your friends will walk free, you’re bound to stay. His smile is soft as he strokes your hair, but there’s something haunting in his eyes, something that makes it clear this is not a choice. He’s waited lifetimes for you, and he won’t let you go.

A chill of fear creeps in, breaking through the warmth of his embrace. You glance toward the exit, the realization hitting hard: you’re not meant to leave. You’re bound to this place, your spirit destined to remain here… forever with Haechan.

As he pulls you closer, his words echo in your mind, a promise and a sentence intertwined. And though his gaze is filled with love, a deep-rooted fear takes hold. You know that this, now, is your eternity—your soul forever tethered to his, within these walls.

[lewmagoo]

atta boy show

i wanted to share my experience meeting lewis and the gang. the night was an absolute dream. it’s lengthy so it’s under a read more.

first of all the show was phenomenal. the opener, me like bees, was fantastic and i’ve been listening to them nonstop since last night. plus atta boy’s set was so good, of course. when they walked off at the end everyone started chanting for one more song so they came back to play another one (i will post the video later) and as they were getting ready to play lewis was snapping pics of eden and freddy with his film camera, very endearing lol.

so leading up to the show i decided i was going to make coasters for all of the band members. so i made one for each with their names on them, the date of the show, and my city's skyline. first i gave aubrey hers. she loved it. and she is darling! such a kind, sweet, beautiful girl! i told her how much i loved how she played and that she was beautiful, and she was just so touched.

then i gave dashel his. he got so animated about it and he asked me all the details about how i made it. he is truly so wonderful and kind, like his energy is just infectious and he's so lovely. and very attentive! a few people had fainting issues in the crowd and if they were close by he made sure to check on them, and offer help if needed. genuinely angelic human.

then of course miss eden! i didn't get to talk to her as long as i wanted to because they were packing up and i didn't wanna interrupt, but i gave her the coaster and she was so excited. plus i also put together a bag full of snacks and goodies for the gang to share on the road home and she loved it, she kept thanking me and ugh she's just so darling! like i mentioned above a few people fainted in the crowd and she stopped the show each time to make sure they were taken care of, and made sure to be encouraging and keep everyone calm.

i also wanna shout out luke shaefer, the lead singer of me like bees. he jumped right into action every time someone needed help. after their set a girl near me was having an asthma attack and he gave her water and had her sit down on the stage. and then he ran to the aid of someone who fainted. truly the most genuine, kind person. i got to talk to him for like 15 minutes straight after the show, and just vibe with him. he is AMAZING. and their music is so fucking good. their set was so loud my ears were still ringing, but so worth the ear pain lol. i will def be listening to them all the time now!

then of course freddy. i also didn't get to talk to him as much as i wanted because they were packing up but i stopped him to give him his coaster. he LIT UP and said "this is the sweetest gift i've ever been given." and then asked me if i was okay with a hug (of course i was). he was just so kind and gracious and energetic. god i love him. he is so cute to watch on stage too. he's got such a good aura about him.

and without further adieu, that brings me to our beloved lew magoo 😉

i thought for sure i'd be nervous and awkward but i am proud to say i stared him down just as hard as he was staring me down lol. also i was really extra and went a bit overboard with my presents for him. i touched his arm and was like "so i have a lot of presents for you...i am so sorry" and he was like "oh let's go over here where there's more space!" and led me over to the stage. then i went on my spiel. i of course gave him his coaster. he loved it, and at first he was like "omg is this a cookie?" (i packaged them in little goodie bags) and i was like sir! that is a coaster, please do not eat it. and he just thought it was so cool and asked how i made it. and he was like “this is the beginning of my coaster collection!” let me tell you, all the painstaking work i did on those coasters made that moment all worth it.

then, i got him a set of pens that look like drumsticks. he was so excited and was like "oh i've been looking for new pens! these are insanely cool!" but it didn't end there. the last thing i got him was a brand new mack hat. i told him i heard that his old one bit the dust (he was wearing it as we spoke, it just didn't have the patch) and that i went looking for a new one. and i presented it to him and his FACE. he was like 😱 and no joke, he started tearing up. and then he immediately put it on. i asked him if i could take a picture of him wearing it so he happily posed for me, and then he insisted i take another picture of him pointing at the hat (i may share the pics on my blog. i may not. we shall see. they are so special to me. mooties will definitely get to see the pics, i promise) and he was just ecstatic. i think he gave me a hug? but i honestly do not remember lol, i blacked out at the end. i did get pics with him though, which he took himself. and he went "the mack is back!" 😭

he is just as kind and gracious as everyone says he is. meeting him was unreal. i'm so glad i had the opportunity and i wouldn't trade it for the world. the show was such a surreal and beautiful experience. i met several new friends as well as a few tumblr girlies and we just all vibed and had such a great time. i hope atta boy tours again soon and that more people get a chance to interact with these incredible people. they deserve all the love and success and i hope they have a long and prosperous career together as a band, and that they're able to flourish in their own personal ventures as well.

[tiramisuucakeee]

# NEED THAT ★

( reader x lee heeseung )

IN WHICH: your annoying bf keeps dming you

BTW: some from pinterest. heeseung texting like every other 20 smth year old alpha male from a frat called sigma ligma.

read more !

‘ heeseung r u on ur way alr? ’

‘ you did not just leave me on seen ’

‘ r u kidding me ?!?!?? ’

‘ alr it’s on sight ’

‘ i’m 5 mins away ’

‘ no we’re not baking anymore. i bet ur fingers r sore from texting other bitches all the time ’

‘ 😐 ’

‘ i bet ur head is sore from overthinking too much u delusional ass ’

‘ okay ’

‘ in the most psychotic and obsessive boyfriend way, i miss watching you sleep ’

‘ what ’

‘ i won’t take it back EVER ’

‘ ur so weird ’

‘ yh but u still like me dumbass 💪 ’

‘ unfortunately ’

‘ i want you so bad ’

‘ i’m literally in love with you ’

‘ can i come over? ’

‘ pleaseeeeeeeeer ’

‘ wtf ’

‘ ermmm, i didn’t send that, it was my inner demon or smth ’

‘ sure ’

‘ sure? ’

‘ u can come over, i unlocked the door ’

‘ FUCK YES ’

‘ don’t ever scream shit like that to me again lee heeseung. don’t argue with me ’

‘ GOV NAME?! IT WAS JUST A TINY FIGHT?! ’

‘ well excuse me if our problems are not that important to you. don’t expect dinner tn ’

‘ ARE YOU BANNING ME FROM HAVING FOOD? ’

‘ yh ’

‘ how long? 😓 ’

‘ until i forget i’m mad ’

‘ woman… that could take years ’

‘ don’t talk 2 me like that, who do you think you are ’

‘ uh. your bf ’

‘ whatever ’

‘ do you still love me? ’

‘ what kinda goofy ahh question is that🤣 ’

‘ answer ’

‘ yeah i do, i love you ’

‘ even tho we fight like every 2 minutes? ’

‘ especially because we fight every two mins. seeing u mad turns me on a lot 😓😓😓 ’

‘ wow ’

‘ heyyyy hot beautiful girlfrienddd of mine !!!! 🪤🪤🪤 ’

‘ hey ’

‘ what’s that supposed to mean? ’

‘ are you calling me a rat? ’

‘ what? omg no, i would never ’

‘ 🪤 ’

‘ ?????? ’

‘ doesn’t that cheese look yummy? ’

‘ i’m blocking you ’

‘ so no cheese ? ’

‘ bro ’

‘ i mean ’

‘ hot ass sexy pretty beautiful gorjuss girlfriend on mine ’

‘ gorjuss … ’

‘ let me talk, i got smth important 2 say ’

‘ so this emoji 🫢 ’

‘ it gets like ’

‘ a whole ass new dark meaning ’

‘ when u consider that ’

‘ the hand might not be his ’

‘ but someone who is behind him covering his mouth ’

‘ and jerkign him off ’

‘ wish that was u huh ’

‘ mayhaphs ’

‘ r u free? ’

‘ no ’

‘ okay so u hate me ’

‘ lee heeseung ’

‘ 😭😭😭😭 ’

‘ gf where r u'

‘ i am literally so embarrassed ’

‘ everyone at the restaurant will think my date bailed on me ’

‘ i look so hot rn fr ’

‘ like how could u ever bail on me ’

‘ gf gf gf gf ’

‘ uh. hello y/n? ’

‘ it's been 30 years.... ’

‘ i miss u ’

‘ the winters have grown so long in your absence ’

‘ i fear the crops won't last through the night ’

‘ the chill of this wind... it's so cold.... ’

‘ i shall perish tonight with the last of the corn plants ’

‘ heeseung, i’m looking 4 a space to park, calm down ’

‘ my bad ’

‘ can i tie a ribbon around your bicep? ’

‘ what why? ’

‘ just for smth ’

‘ can i say no? ’

‘ what do you think ’

‘ well damn. ok ’

‘ make it pretty ’

‘ 🤭 ’

EXTRA:

masterlist.

[sc4rrc]

Jealous much, but for a 'solid' reason

════════════════════

════════════════════

- 2012!Donnie x reader - Jealous much, but for a 'solid' reason - Fluff - Warnings: None Request: Nope, just came up with this on my own whilst reading through some one shots of my personal favourite creators. You like Donnie, he likes you. But you're both as oblivious as ever, despite clearly showing each other that you care. And as a date is set between you and someone who is -clearly- NOT Donnie, he finds it hard to not feel jealous. ════════════════════

For quite some time, nearly since you met, both you and Donnie had held an affection for one another. Whether it was how he saved you and your friend, April, from the Kraang that first drew you to him, or the fact that he so easily got along with you from then on, it didn’t seem to matter. You became close from that point, and eventually you even took part in most of their missions—after you’d gotten more familiar with fighting through Splinter’s lessons.

A few problems did arise between the two of you though, like how oblivious you both seemed when it came to actually catching on that someone might be interested. Or the way doubt crept in because of your close friendship. He’d compliment you a lot, always ensuring your safety on missions, and you did the same for him. But somehow, you both missed the bigger picture. “It’s not something new; he worries about all of us during fights,” you’d tell yourself whenever April pointed it out.

And it was true; he always watched out for his brothers, too. How could he not? They were family. But there he was, watching you train, helping you improve when Splinter was busy.

Other times, you’d be the one to assist him. Sometimes you’d grab things from the top that he did not have easy access to, or simply keep him company in the lab to make sure he took breaks. Lunch, water—the basics. But one thing you both did constantly, no matter how oblivious each of you seemed in the moment, was stare. Even from across the room, one of you would be looking at the other. On movie nights, for example, you’d sit on the couch, Mikey on your right and Casey on your left, everyone focused on the screen—except Donnie, whose gaze would occasionally drift toward you.

He’d become well aware that he was absolutely, undeniably infatuated with you. Even he knew he sometimes went a bit too far with his attention, though his brothers never hesitated to tease him. Raph, mostly. But with his feelings also came doubt, for both of you. After so long, with neither of you daring to believe the other felt the same, you both wondered if it could ever work. You didn’t want to risk your precious friendship on a confession that might lead to rejection. So, silence it was.

“I don’t know, April. Just think about it. If I say something, and he doesn’t feel the same, then this might just ruin our friendship. And I don’t want that.”

Harsh words to admit, really. The thought wasn’t exactly pleasant. April had been trying for ages to nudge you both toward a confession, convinced it would lead to something good. Or maybe that was just the hopeless romantic in her, but she hoped nonetheless. And despite her efforts—along with the boys’ attempts to coax Donnie out of his safe shell—neither of you would budge. Sighing, she finally said, “That is fair, I suppose. But I still stand by what I said earlier. Forgetting doesn’t sound like the best alternative. I’ll help, but that doesn’t mean I’m agreeing with this plan.”

Her words made you smile in gratitude. Crushing on Donnie, though a genuine feeling, had become almost frustrating. He seemed so unaware of your feelings—close, yet so distant. It made you wonder if maybe he really didn’t feel the same. And yes, that stung a little. But it also made you realize that moving on might be necessary. For everyone’s sake, including your own. So, when a boy in your History class asked you out, you accepted. It felt like progress for a moment, but only for a moment. Soon, it became a test to see how quickly you could let go of Donnie, knowing that dwelling on him wasn’t helping you move forward. And after all, it was just a date—a way to focus on someone else. ════════════════════

When it came to being in that position—being told by the girl he couldn’t stop being so fond of that she had a date with some guy, a human guy no less—Donnie wanted to dig himself a hole in the lab and never come out. He’d imagined this day might come, and he felt like he was losing his chance—if he ever even had one. His heart sank as the words left your mouth, and it was hard not to show his disappointment. But for your sake, he put on a smile and congratulated you. He even wished you good luck. Then, once you left the lair, he retreated to his lab, shutting the door behind him, eyes focused on his work. Anything to avoid thinking about his growing jealousy, even for a moment. The others noticed the slump in his shoulders as he walked away but decided to let him be. They knew it might be a long evening in the lair, but they figured the situation might resolve itself—if it could.

--- Time Skip ---

Hours went by, some faster than others, and soon you found yourself back in your apartment, changed into a new set of clothes, ready to sleep the day away. Reflecting on what was supposed to be a date, you thought back to what he’d said: “Listen, I’m not really one for these serious things, ’kay? You’re cute, I’ll give you that. But I’ve got my ways around relationships, if you want to keep me happy.” That was about all you’d heard before mentally checking out of the “date.” He seemed nice at first but turned out to be a self-centred idiot—not the good kind of idiot either. And with all his talking, you made little effort to understand what he really meant.

You couldn’t recall the whole conversation, but you knew there was no way you’d repeat the experience. The things he said—about you and about others—were all wrong for you. He kept going on about some “party with girls” he had to get to, and the moment he crossed a line, you’d made your exit, realizing just how little interest you had in seeing him again.

You’d only just drifted off when a soft, rhythmic tapping at the window stirred you back to consciousness. Groaning, you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders and shuffled toward the window, squinting through the curtains. It could only be one of the guys, you knew, but the last thing you expected was to find Donnie, hanging upside down on the fire escape patiently, his expression hovering somewhere between nervous and excited.

Fighting back a laugh, you pushed the window open. “Donnie?” you whispered, the surprise obvious in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

He offered a tentative smile, voice low. “Hey. Sorry if I woke you. Just, uh… thought I’d check in. Make sure you got home okay.”

You laughed softly, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a bit late for a check-in, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I know, but…” He shrugged, his calm exterior cracking just enough to reveal a hint of nervousness. “Couldn’t help myself. April mentioned the date didn’t, uh… go quite how you planned?”

A sigh slipped from you as you pulled the blanket around yourself a little tighter, rolling your eyes. April, of course. “You could say that,” you chuckled. “He was… something, alright.” You caught his amused grin, the faint hint of relief there not lost on you. You shook your head, feeling a smile tug at your lips despite it all.

Donnie’s face softened, his eyes meeting yours. “Yeah, well… I think you deserve better than that.” His voice was quiet, sincere, but even he looked surprised by his own words, cheeks darkening just a bit under his mask. “I mean, someone who’d treat you better than that. A lot better, actually.”

A warmth spread through you, his words settling in, making you feel a little lighter after such a disappointing night. His gaze hadn’t wavered, and you felt yourself holding your breath, caught off guard by how much his simple words meant.

“Thanks, Donnie. For worrying about me,” you said, the words barely a whisper. Before either of you could overthink it, you leaned out the window and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Donnie froze completely, his eyes wide, his usual calm vanishing in a heartbeat as he stared at you, utterly speechless. It took him a second—maybe two—before he swallowed, blinking a few times as if to process that the kiss had actually happened. A deep blush crept over his face, nearly reaching the edges of his mask.

“Oh. I, yeah.. Anytime,” he stammered, his voice slightly higher than usual. His hand moved almost instinctively to where you’d kissed him, and for a second, he was all but suspended there, entirely lost in the moment.

You bit back a laugh, giving him a little wave before you gently closed the window and pulled the curtain back in place. A small thrill ran through you as you moved back toward bed, a smile lingering even as you settled back under the blankets.

Outside, Donnie remained still, one hand pressed to his cheek, replaying the moment over and over in his head. A grin broke out slowly across his face, unable to hold back the ridiculous happiness building up inside him. "Oh, man... She kissed me. She actually kissed me.” He couldn’t help the ridiculous grin on his face as he clambered back up the fire escape, his heart still thudding as he slipped back into the shadows, feeling no more of that jealousy from earlier. Not even the knowing looks from his brothers as he made his way through the entrance of the lair brought him fully back, his mind still stuck in that moment.

════════════════════ A/N: Here's my first one-shot. I think it turned out pretty good, considering nearly half of what I made the other night in drafts did not save. But idk if I should make a part 2 for this? I could, if I feel like it. It also depends on what you guys want so I might pole it, but the main idea is that I did it. (Also I love Donnie so much, he's so bf material.) - I do NOT give permission for any of my work to be republished on any other sites, or even here. Not Ao3, not Wattpad, nowhere. This is simply for entertainment purposes and I would appreciate respecting this.

[astronicht]

I was DMing a friend yesterday about how the lotr films (imo) do a great job of making Gondor look vaguely Carolingian — I was kind of holding it up as a positive example of intuiting and extrapolating on what Tolkien might have meant when doing adaptations — but said I wasn’t personally sure whether Tolkien was pulling from the Carolingian Empire or maybe the very shaky papacy further south or Visigoths or something. Or all of it!

Anyway then I settled in for my evening pop-nonfiction read, and got to find out why I’m always mixing up the Merovingians and Carolingians, a thing I will never do again. Bc yes they were two ruling families, but one was originally the fucking… stewards. I mean mayors. Haha.

(From The Private Lives of the Saints, Janina Ramirez, 2015. pp. 346-7)

Several points:

- I KNOW I made a post back in Rohan about how it’s very nice and wholesome that Tolkien wrote a fix-it for the brutal sack of the Saxons (Rohan*) by the big post-Roman southern kingdom but I didn’t know how thoroughly he did that. He really said what if Carolingians Gondor and Saxons et al Rohan bonded together to fight evil 💗 instead 💗

- So I don’t actually think Tolkien goes 1:1 with characters and historical figures, but I’m weeping at the idea that Boromir was a sort of Charlemagne but stuck in an AU where Charlemagne touches a magic ring and dies (despite being cool ☹️)

- Alternatively, it was actually Charlemagne’s dad who made a deal with the pope (NO idea on this one lmao good luck everyone) and seized power. Which would make Boromir something of a… potential.. Pippin figure.

Like he’s not, it’s not 1:1! But each Tolkien character does sometimes feel like an avatar of 3-5 medieval characters in a flashing and beautiful and strange palimpsest, while still utterly being themselves and not a symbol etc. it just so happens that you could, I guess? Make this argument for Boromir if you really really wanted to. Or Faramir! Charlemagne really tried to be both brothers, actually, which is— oh it’s fascinating again. Damn.

- Final incredibly important question: Wh at constellation was on Aragorn’s sword. I need to know the constellation on Aragorn’s sword immediately.

*I sound increasingly insane the further I get in these books but as… as established in previous posts there’s no English Channel in Tolkien’s world so Rohan is sort of the Saxons, Doggerland, and the Angles, Jutes, etc (English kingdoms), running up to Wales (the hill people + where Aragon goes on a Wild Hunt). God it’s so ancient aliens sounding but I cannot disavow any of this at this point.

[rockermybuddie]

I’ll Never Leave You

Eddie x Buck

Summary: Eddie and Buck have a deep conversation on Eddies couch after Buck came over after his break up with Tommy.

Warnings: not proof read, unsure of what im even writing.

A/n: Im still not over Bucktommy break up. Blah blah blah yeah yeah yeah they only brought Tommy back for one reason.

Im still sad ok.

In my head this is what i need to see in the next episode. What i imagine is happening.

In no way am i trying to make Tommy the bad guy in this. If you have seen any of my other posts since Epi 6, you know i love Tommy and im a multi shipper.

——————

“Tommy broke up with me.” Buck muttered. Its the first thing either of them said since they sat in the couch, the case of beer almost empty.

Eddie paused and made his known face he makes when Buck tells him he broke up with is current partner.

He turns his head and sees how hurt Buck is. Of course breaking up with someone is hard but Tommy was good for Buck so even Eddie is feeling sad for Buck.

“I’m sorry Buck.” Eddie rubs Bucks shoulder reassuringly as he finishes off his beer.

The two sat there in silence again as Eddie doesn’t want to push Buck to talk and Buck is wondering why no one stays in his life.

“We both dated Abby.”

“Really?” Eddie furrows his brows as he proceeds to think of what Buck just said.

“Yep. Tommy and Abby were engaged. And after that i was the himbo.”

“Himbo?” Eddie snorted but quickly cleared his throat when he saw the look Buck was giving him.

“Sorry.”

Eddie got up and grabbed another six pack from the fridge bringing it into the living room handle Buck another beer.

“I asked him to move in with me.”

“You did?” Eddie thinks of how long him and Tommy have been together but then again he cant say anything. He asked Marisol to move in with him.

“Then he said that ‘I’ would end up breaking his heart because he knows how this ends.”

Buck leaned his head back against the couch as he finished off another beer.

“I thought he was the one. He said that he was my first not my last. But they can be they same thing, thats what i told him. He didnt believe me. Do you believe me?” Buck looks over at Eddie who is fingering his beer bottle.

“Y-yeah, sure….they can be the same thing.” Eddie mumbles out. The beer is starting to get to him.

Buck puffs out his cheeks as he looks down at the floor. He notices Eddie is still just in his underwear and a button down with the collar flipped up. But he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Everyone always leaves me.” Buck says after minutes of silence. A tear falls down his cheek but he wipes it away.

“Maddie has left me multiple times, my parents clearly didnt want me in the first place. Bobby left. The damn lawsuit. And everytime i ask someone to move in with me, they leave.” Buck named off everyone whos ever left him making him realize that maybe hes the problem.

“Buck we are all way past the lawsuit.” Eddie reminds him. “Bobby came back to the 118. Maddie and Chimney are here and Hen is here.”

“I know. I just wish people who claim they love me would stay.” Buck says

“We all love you Buck.”

“Not like that.”

Eddie turns his head and looks at Buck, the conversation at the coffee shop with Father Brian.

“You’ll always have me Buck.” Eddie tells him, he feels his heart beat start to race and he starts to feel sweat droplets around his forehead.

Buck turned his head looking at Eddie and repeated what Eddie had just said in his head trying to put it in place with the conversation.

“What do you mean by that?” Buck asks

“I- i um… I’m your best friend.”

“Yeah?” Buck can clearly tell something is going on with Eddie, and its not how drunk he is something was going on before he got there.

“I lied to you.” Eddie says, he sees the hurt fill Bucks face even more and it makes him feel even worse.

“About what?” Buck asks him. “Being my best friend?”

“No. About me. Who i am.” He sees the pain he caused turn into confusion on Bucks face.

“I went and talked to Father Brian and he said that I’m punishing myself of ‘joy’ told me to find a way to express myself.” Eddie explains

“Is that why you shaved?” Buck asks

“Part of it.”

“The other part is because i was hiding from myself.” Eddie confessed. He found it easy to talk to Buck, he didnt feel pressure or judged.

“Are you done hiding from yourself?” Buck asks. He knows Eddie feels like a failed parent since Chris is in Texas with his parents.

He knows Eddie hasnt been himself since and he hasn’t wanted to push him about it.

“Im not sure.” Eddie says “theres something else.”

Buck reaches for another beer, as he leans back onto the couch hes a bit closer to Eddie. Their arms brush against each other as Buck takes a swig of the beer. Waiting for someone to say another word.

“Find joy” Eddie mumbles

“Hmm?” Buck looks over at Eddie.

“Joy.” Eddie places a hand on Bucks cheek as he looks into Bucks blue eyes.

“Eddie.” Buck says, the hand on his cheek feeling like a hot mold leaving a scar on his face.

This had to be the beer because why is Eddie staring into his sould wetting his lips with his tongue.

“Kiss me.” Eddie whispers

“W-what?”

“Kiss me.” He repeats

At first Buck thought he was joking there was no way Eddie wanted him to kiss him. Eddie was straight to his knowledge.

“A-are you sure?” Buck asks as he notices the tent in Eddies underwear. Its pretty easy to see since hes not wearing any pants.

“Yes.”

Eddie asking Buck to kiss him sobered him up but as soon as Buck leaned down and placed his lips on Eddies he was drunk again.

Eddies lips were warm and soft against his.

Eddie adjusted himself on the couch so Buck was above him between his legs.

Bucks tongue worked its way ino Eddies mouth as Eddies fingers slipped under his shirt.

The two were shirtless chest to chest as they made out.

“Is this what joy feels like?” Eddie asks

“Yes.” Buck quickly answered.

-

As Buck laid on Eddies bare chest listening to his heart beat all these thought were rushing through his mind.

His boyfriend just broke up with him, he came to his best friend’s house to drink a beer and to not be a lone only to have ended up making out with his best friend.

That was a very Buck 1.0 move.

He just made out with his best friend who hasnt came out to himself.

What if it was all the beer?

What if this isnt what Eddie really wants?

Buck cant go back like nothing happened.

———-

A/n: I’ll probably write another story once we know what happens next episode.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello! This is my first time requesting sorry if it’s bad .. but could you write one where reader used to be in a bit of an abusive relationship so when she got with Donna she wasn’t used to the kinda of care and sweet things she would do for her and doesn’t understand why Donna would do anything like that for someone like her. Then one day maybe they are out at the duke or something and reader is talking to an friend and Donna gets jealous and quiet on the way back and reader starts to get very anxious thinking Donna will do something to her like her last relationship. When they get home Donna is acting kinda weird and immediately goes to the basement after a little while of Donna being gone reader goes to confront her about it and then donna goes a little bit crazy and hits her fist on her workbench and then when she comes out of her little episode she’s you crying and feels really REALLY bad about it.

You can end it with smut or fluff I’m good with whatever. So sorry my grammar is buns I suck at writing and I love your story’s to I read them all the time!❤️

Yesss!!! Welcome to the requesting world!!! Thank you for your request and support!!! I'm sorry if it's a bit dark, and I have to say I didn't put smut due to the plot, but I hope you can enjoy it the same way!!! Sorry about the language mistakes!!!!

Demons of past, demons of mind

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, dark themes, mentions of abuse, Donna being Donna, mental health issues, slighty dark Donna, fluff

Word count: 7,930

Summary: You have your demons, she has them too...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

You never liked masses.

It's not that you had anything against the Black Gods or Mother Miranda, it's just that meeting the whole village, enduring those curious glances and unconsciously looking for signs of any threat weren't your favorite way to spend the time.

Staying alone in that big mansion wasn't the best option either. Besides, you knew that she didn't like the idea of ​​abandoning you. You couldn't be ungrateful. You would always do anything she asked of you.

Miranda's words slipped through your ears as you curled up on one of the first benches. You didn't want to be far from her. Villagers like you were supposed to be scared and respectful of the authorities of that place.

For you, the Four Lords weren’t an imminent danger, or at least they didn't make your chest knot or make you feel dizziness. Yes, you feared them, but that was long before you knew the true dangers of that place.

Knowing all your neighbors could be considered an advantage, it could seem cozy and comfortable, but in your case it wasn't exactly like that. As a young girl, barely 23 years old, you had been through too many hardships and none of them had to do with the influence of the Black Gods, or at least that's what you thought.

Your eyes danced around the crowd as your body slowly shrank. In your head you followed the witch's words, trying to count the time left until you were free again. You weren't scared, but without the lady in black at your side, you didn't feel safe.

“May the Black Gods protect us,” Miranda said, ending that sermon.

Everyone in the church repeated those words of liberation, forming a murmur that accompanied the movement. You had to assume that, of course, everyone present had better things to do than listen to Miranda's words since they wasted no time in getting up.

Before you could really be aware of everyone who had come to the old chapel, you stood up, getting closer to the altar, where the Four Lords patiently watched the walk of their flock.

A smile of relief ran across your face as you stood next to her, next to the veiled lady, with your eyes expectant, wanting to go home. Her head turned to you, silently, but surely with a smile under the black cloth.

Lady and doll stood up from their seat, walking slowly towards you.

“Wait a moment, Donna,” Miranda said when the doll maker had already let your arm hook into hers.  “I have something to tell you.”

You, disappointed, looked at her invisible face as she lowered her hand to yours.

“Your cupcake can wait outside, right?” the witch said, looking at you, making you feel those grey eyes on your chest, those eyes always covered by a golden mask.

“Wait for me, (Y/N), I'll be right there,” the lady whispered in your ear, letting your hand go and indicating with a gesture for you to go out.

You didn't insist. Being with Donna was always your priority, but to be honest, you weren't too interested in Miranda's affairs, you were much happier not knowing what she was up to that time.

You sighed as you nodded, slowly walking out of the chapel, away from the crowd. It would only be a moment and there was nothing to worry about, right?

In an attempt to distract yourself, you looked up at the sky. The clouds, as always, were as black as the Gods, as black as your past, dark, impenetrable, constant...

You sketched a smile as you waited, as you watched people slowly walk away, without paying attention to you, just as you liked to live. Questions and rumors were never to your liking.

“(Y/N),” a voice you recognized instantly, took you out of those thoughts of relief.

You hoped to have given up your torments, but that day had an unpleasant surprise in store for you.

Automatically, your head lowered to the snowy ground, showing an absurd respect that your body maintained even with the new circumstances.

“Becca,” you whispered without looking at that girl in the face.

“I see that you continue to get lost in your thoughts,” the girl sighed, approaching you with a smug smile. “Pathetic.”

“C-Can you leave me alone?” you asked in a small voice, feeling the girl's steps in the snow as a countdown to suffering. “I don't want to talk to you.”

“Of course, you don't want to talk to me, you never wanted to, right?” the girl said, crossing her arms. “I always had to force the words out of your mouth, how rude.”

“I-I have nothing to say to you, Becca,” you whispered, noticing how sweat began to accumulate on your hands.

“Oh, me neither,” she said mockingly, tilting her head. “I'm glad I don't have to put up with you anymore.”

“W-Well, then... what do you want?” you asked, your whole body stiff and tense. “You left me.”

“If I remember correctly, you provoked it, (Y/N),” Becca insisted, spitting out her words in an unpleasant way. “You never knew how to treat me properly.”

“Was it my fault?” you asked, backing away, drawing out some courage, the little you had left. “You made my life a hell.”

“Because of you, (Y/N), I see you still haven't learned to be assertive,” the girl murmured, shaking her head. “Luckily for you, you don't owe me anything anymore. My new girlfriend is better than you.”

“Do you hit her too?” you asked, with your tense gaze fixed on the ground.

“She behaves much better than you,” your ex hissed, blinking petulantly.

“I feel sorry for her,” you whispered, turning your head to the chapel door, wishing she would appear to save you.

“What did you say?” Becca asked, grabbing your arm tightly, causing the painful memories of your relationship to immobilize you. “You're still stupid. You may not be mine anymore, but I can still…”

“Hey!” a scream caught your attention.

Just when you thought you were about to receive another undeserved punishment, the girl let you go, surely, seeing the lady in black behind you holding the Angie doll, owner of that shrill voice.

“Donna,” you sighed, breaking free from Becca's grip and cowardly running to take refuge behind the lady.

“Who are you, stupid?!” Angie asked, with a demanding tone. It was impossible for you to tell if Angie was speaking, or Donna was the one demanding answers but you didn't really care who it was.

“Lady Beneviento, I...” your ex-girlfriend murmured, moving away from you. “N-Nobody, I'm nobody.”

“You're nobody? Fine, then get out of our sight,” Angie said, gesturing towards the road.

The girl shook her head as you tightly grabbed the arm of the woman in black, who remained motionless, threatening.

“I'm sorry, my lady,” Becca said, quickly fleeing the scene, causing the puppet to laugh triumphantly.

“If you come near her again, I won't be so kind, stupid!” Angie shouted while laughing amused. “Look how she runs, Donna, you scared her.”

“Mm,” the lady murmured discreetly, turning to look at you. “(Y/N), lasciami.”

“I'm sorry,” you said nervously, realizing that you were holding your girlfriend with excessive strength, due to fear. “T-Thank you…”

“Thank you? Why? Who was it?” the doll maker asked, grabbing you gently and starting to walk, finally returning to the mansion.

“Nobody,” you murmured, finally finding the comfort of her body very close to yours as the village grew ever further away.

“You're lying to me,” the lady said, walking slower, looking at you, surely, with a frown.

“No, I...” you stammered. “It's just that...”

You didn't want to lie to Donna, but you never dared to talk about your past with her. Not out of fear, but rather so as not to remind the hell you lived through.

“Who was she, silly? It seems you knew each other,” Angie said, insisting, just like her owner.

“Yes, well, the truth is that she is... my ex,” you finally said, lowering your head without releasing the lady, who turned slowly, but didn’t stop walking.

“Your ex,” Donna repeated with a sigh, looking at you out of the corner of her eye through the gaps in her veil.

“She wasn't nice to me,” you said with a weak voice due to your horrible memories, with the pain of her slaps still impregnated in your cheeks. “I know I hadn't told you much about her, but I just didn't want to remember and…”

“So she was the reason you were crying when I met you,” the lady said, with a voice apparently devoid of emotions.

“Yes,” you said dryly, getting closer to the lady, who, apparently, understood your concern, surrounding you with her arms as if she wanted to protect you. “I didn't expect to find her again.”

“Do you want me to kill her?” she asked, making a shiver run down your spine.

“What?” you asked scared. “N-No, of course I don’t,” you said, shaking your head effusively, moving away from her. “No, Donna.”

“Hey, if that stupid girl hurt you, why don't you let Donna punish her? She'll do it gladly, right?” Angie said, with a sinister voice.

You regretted thinking, for a second, your answer.

“No, um…” you said, blinking a little nervously. “I don't want you to hurt anyone.”

“Mm, as you wish,” Donna commented, impassive at the idea of ​​finishing off that girl, something you still hadn't quite gotten used to.

Donna was a Lord. After all, the lives of the village were at her will.

“The past is the past,” you murmured after a tense moment of silence. “I like the present much more,” you said as you sighed in relief, leaning back against the lady, who nodded elegantly.

“A very wise phrase,” she said, kissing you through her veil. “You know I would do anything for you, tesoro.”

“I know,” you said with a tender smile, not having the capacity to thank her enough for that protection, that promise of not letting anything, or anyone, hurt you ever, ever again. “It will be better if we forget it, okay, darling?”

“Va bene, your wishes are my commands,” she said, interlacing her fingers with yours. “Let's go home, it's cold today.”

“Yes,” you said, thanking the affectionate gesture, her sinister closeness that was so different from what you had experienced before.

Yes, Donna was dangerous, sometimes even terrifying, but she loved you. She really loved you.

During that quiet walk, you began to remember. You had said that the past was better off far from you, but you were only fooling yourself. That previous relationship was still very present in your memories.

You were never a normal girl, you were a bit withdrawn. It's not that you hated people or anything like that, you just didn't fit in. The villagers never isolated you or considered you a freak, and maybe that was your downfall. After years of voluntary solitude, you met a girl, a girl you fell in love with almost instantly, Becca.

It was your first relationship, an explosion of new emotions that at first made you seem like the happiest girl in that sinister place. Time passed and everything seemed perfect. But you had read too many stories not to start seeing similarities with the behavior of that girl who claimed to love you.

Like in that children's story, Becca began to neglect her lamb costume, revealing the dark fur of a fierce and hungry wolf. At first, they were just absurd arguments, ones in which you always seemed to be at fault.

You remembered the sleepless nights, wondering if you had really done something wrong to disappoint the girl you loved, if you were guilty, if you hurt her without realizing it. Acknowledging a guilt that you didn't fully understand became a habit, it became an easy way to stop the wolf from roaring.

But time didn't improve the situation, quite the opposite. That submission increased to the point you no longer asked yourself what you had done to deserve a scolding, accepting the reality of her words, bowing your head and asking for forgiveness.

Being so young, your character was deformed, turning you into something like a slave to her thoughts, her desires, a rag doll to be ordered around and tortured whenever she wanted.

Your friends began to be a problem for Becca. She herself urged you to abandon those innocent walks with the village girls, to put aside the only people who had always understood you. Of course, this unhinged behavior didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend, since she was the one who tried to open your eyes.

It didn't matter that you began to believe she was right, since, because of Becca, you stopped hanging out with her. Controlling you was her greatest hobby, torturing you was her only way to spend the time.

Submissive and obedient, you pleased that disguised wolf as much as you could, although as the months went by, you stopped receiving anything in return.

The screams, the senseless threats became routine. Every time you weren't with Becca, she acted, she marked your skin with slaps and warnings, making you believe that you were to blame for the blows you received. Your vision of reality didn’t change, even though your life was hell.

One day, Becca left you, she abandoned you. You remember the screams, the cries, the pleas. At that moment you were unable to see the level of pathos you were in, begging your tormentor for a second chance.

The pain, the suffering of having lost her was too great, you spent weeks crying inconsolably. Your parents were busy weaving and making fabrics, and your personal problems were of no importance when it came to helping them. Becca was a lovely girl in their opinion.

She was always a wolf in sheep's clothing, capable of deceiving even the shepherds, even the people who were supposed to take care of you.

You were crying as you walked, as you breathed, you were almost unaware of where you were going. It was not an ordinary commission. Those fabrics weren’t for Luiza or the Lupu family, no…

The landscape was changing and deep down you felt that you should be afraid, but you weren’t. The pain and the tears were much stronger than the fear of your destination, the Beneviento House.

The rumors about the lady in black didn’t sound in your head, you could only hear Becca's screams and insults. So much so, that you arrived at the house at the waterfall without being aware of the danger you were in.

The sobs accompanied the first encounter you had with the veiled lady, and, somehow, they aroused her curiosity. Chance was never your best ally, but, it seems that at that moment, it decided to grant you a favor.

“Those beautiful eyes don’t have to cry…”

You remember that whisper, that hoarse voice speaking through the veil, that voice unknown to the village, those hands that wiped away your tears. You always knew what she was, that she was a dangerous woman, that she was sick, that she was dark and soulless. Well, at least that's what it seemed to you.

Donna Beneviento, fourth Lord, seemed to take pity on your soul, something no one did, something no one had bothered to relieve. Your body, torn apart by tireless crying, yielded to the offer of tea, of telling her the reason for your tears.

So you did, or at least, you made it clear to her that a breakup was the cause of your problems. She didn't seem to give any importance to that, but she did to something, which, according to the lady, was terribly unusual: you didn't tremble in her presence, you weren't afraid.

That involuntary behavior granted you a second chance, granted you the love of someone you shouldn't love, who was cold as ice and dangerously disturbed. It didn't take you long to realize you were wrong.

Donna was quiet, but kind, attentive. The Angie doll was funny and eloquent, thus forming the counterpart the Lord was missing. Love arose from the ashes of your soul, which revived like a phoenix, hoping the fire would burn your past as well.

She was… beautiful, simply beautiful. Her complexes about her appearance were stupidity to you. Her deformed face was beauty itself, and you let her know that.

Laughter, whispers, kisses, caresses… Thus began a very different relationship, one in which you felt good, too good. Sometimes, just sometimes, you didn't feel worthy of so much affection, you didn't feel you deserved Donna, to calm her desire to love someone as pathetic as you.

After a few wonderful months with the lady in black, you finally realized. The sheep costume Becca was wearing became invisible. All those mistakes you thought you had made became injustices, all the slaps you thought were fair became abuse, mistreatment.

You regretted having cried for Becca, but, luckily, you would never have to face her again. To think that, perhaps after that unfortunate encounter, Donna protected you, was much more than you thought you deserved, even if her way of protecting… was kind of abrupt or sinister.

“Are you okay?” the lady asked closing the door of the mansion and removing her veil, a gesture you adored.

You nodded uncertainly, letting the lady's intense gaze stare into your eyes and her hands cup your face. It wasn’t easy to deceive her, you should know that.

“Your words tell me one thing, but your gaze tells me another, tesoro,” she said, with a tender voice, while her caresses comforted your nerves. “Please, tell me what's wrong.”

“It's nothing, Donna,” you said, lowering your head, joining one of your hands with hers. “It's just that meeting h-her… made me nervous.”

“I see,” the lady whispered, bringing her lips closer to yours, kissing you slowly. “She hurt you bad, vero?”

“Yes… but, but I prefer to forget about it,” you said with a fake smile, in case the desire to get revenge came back to her mind.

“It seems that it's hard for you,” Donna commented, with a slightly colder look. “Do you have doubts?”

“No!” you squealed nervously, shaking your head and making exaggerated gestures with your hands. “No, Donna, don't say that. I love you, and only you. Sometimes the past just hurts, that's all.”

The lady stared at you for a moment, but sighed in relief, coming closer and stealing another soft kiss from you, giving you a tender smile.

“Well, now you're with me, I'll protect you from pain, amore mio,” she whispered lovingly, wiping away a tear that was starting to run down your cheek. “Come, I'm going to prepare something for you to relax.”

“Thank you, darling,” you said with a sincere smile, expressing the love, the gratitude you had for the lady in black, the extreme fidelity you would always have for her.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Angie interrupted, separating you comically. “Less cuddles, that doesn't make anyone happy. (Y/N), silly, all you have to do to be happy is play with me.”

You both kissed again, looking at the doll so she would growl angrily. Afterwards, the lady in black came down to prepare one of her relaxing teas and you had no choice but to spend some fun time with the doll.

You were grateful for all her love, her understanding, her sweetness, but your demons kept whispering to you, telling you that it wasn't fair, that you didn't deserve that special treatment, that love, those kisses, those caresses...

Luckily you managed to forget about your problems. Donna was lovely, she would always do everything possible to remove the sorrows from your soul, but with Angie... with Angie forgetting was much easier, since diverting attention could bring unpleasant consequences, like a scream in your ear, or, in the worst case, a bite.

The rest of the day passed like any other: glances, smiles, kisses, moments of quiet reading on her lap… Did you really deserve all that? You didn't think it possible.

“What are you doing?” you asked affectionately, when Donna moved to her desk, studying some papers.

“Mm, I'm going over my research,” the lady commented, concentrating on those essays written in elegant handwriting, with words that, unfortunately, you didn't understand. “There are too many mountain plants.”

“Oh, plants, of course,” you said amused, leaning down to kiss her cheek and earning one of her irresistible shy laughs. “Is it Mother Miranda's thing?”

“No, I've always found the power I have over these kinds of plants interesting, I want to know everything,” she explained, making you shrug with an amused laugh. “Look at this, it seems like a good essay to me.”

“Okay…” you sighed, taking the paper and frowning amused. “Um, Donna, I'm sorry but… I don't understand,” you said scratching your neck.

“Oh, certo,” she said, shaking her head and gesturing for you to sit on her lap. “It's part of my research with the new variety that appeared at the gardener's house.”

“Wow, so you don't only make dolls…” you said, stealing a quick kiss from her.

“To be honest, I prefer dolls,” Donna commented, leaving the papers in order, sighing tiredly. “Although I haven't worked on them lately,” she said in a different tone, frowning.

“I-I think that's my fault,” you said with a weak voice, knowing that you were the biggest distraction.

You couldn't be a nuisance or disappoint her in any way. Any mistake on your part was a cause for absolute sadness.

“Mm?” she murmured distractedly, not paying much attention to your self-accusations. “Perché?”

“Well... I'm always distracting you,” you said in a serious tone, with sincere apology. “You should pay less attention to me and more to your dolls.”

Donna turned her head with a confused look, but smiled, kissing you in a slightly wilder, deeper way, making you almost lose your balance.

“I like dolls more than plants,” she whispered in your ear, in a terribly sensual way. “But I like you more than dolls.”

You blushed, shaking your head as you comically ran away from her excessive affection, one that, you thought you didn’t deserve.

“You always say those things,” you murmured with a purr, playing with your finger on her chest, controlling your breathing. “You make me blush.”

“If I didn't, I would be doing something wrong,” she commented amused, brushing your hair away from your face, enjoying the touch of your skin.

“Oh, so I... am I doing something wrong?” you asked worried, making her move confused. “I-I can change, really.”

“What are you talking about, tesoro?” the lady questioned, studying your nervous gestures. “Why do you say that?”

“Oh, I...” you whispered embarrassed, looking away.

No matter how much time passed, your fears were still very present in your mind.

“Hey, (Y/N), you're shaking,” Donna whispered, taking your cold and shaking hands, looking at you scared. “Tesoro…”

“It's okay, Donna,” you said with a fake smile, removing your hands and looking for something to divert the lady's rational curiosity with. “What’s this?” you asked, reaching out to grab what looked like an old fashion magazine.

“Um, I think a catalog,” Donna said, being distracted by your clumsy actions and taking a look with you. “It's amazing, (Y/N), sometimes I don't even know what's in this house…” she sighed amused.

“They look like dresses,” you said, commenting on the images you both saw. “I didn't know you liked fashion.”

“N-No,” Donna said, gently shaking her head. “Not much…” she whispered, turning the catalogue over. “My mother used to enjoy sewing patterns. I suspect this magazine was hers.”

“Did your mother know how to sew?” you asked curiously, finally diverting your shaking hands from her head. “I guess like mother, like daughter, huh?”

“Mm, yes, you might be right,” the brunette said, glancing at you briefly as she turned the pages. “She was very good at making dresses, a-although she didn’t h-have much time to do so.”

“Look at this one,” you said quickly, masterfully keeping poor Donna from losing her mind, like every time she mentioned her past. Seeing her out of it was something you couldn’t stand, and you couldn’t control either. “It’s beautiful.”

“This one?” she said, distracted again, settling you on her lap. “Do you like this dress?”

“Yes, it’s simple, but elegant, I’d like to have one to wear it for you. Would you like that?”

 Donna smiled with a shy blush on her skin, looking away as she nodded.

“I would like you to do it... to make yourself pretty for me...”

Luckily, there were no problems that day, or that night. Everything had gone well and, as always when you went to sleep, you reviewed all your dialogues and actions with the lady in black, looking for some mistake, something that could make her angry. As for a long time, as always since you were with her, you found none.

Getting used to that kind, loving and selfless treatment was something that would take a lot of time, and effort, to accept. Becca's influence was still too great in your mind and the only thing you wanted, the only thing you would do anyway, was to forget about it.

The next day, everything seemed normal, although somehow, you noticed a certain nervousness in the lady in black, as well as an unusual urgency to return to the village to pay a visit to the Duke.

You knew she was up to something, and even though Donna was reluctant to let you accompany her, it was difficult for her to refuse your request.

Your demons were right, you didn't deserve her.

"I love walking with you," you whispered as you hung on her arm, walking slowly towards the village, feeling the warmth of her body, her protective presence next to you.

She laughed affectionately, kissing you through the black fabric. Of course you preferred her bare lips, but those discreet kisses outside the mansion, even in front of curious villagers, climbed the ranks.

“Wait for me here, tesoro,” she said when you reached the carriage while you politely greeted the merchant, who did the same with a greedy smile.

You rolled your eyes, pretending to think about whether to accept her order or not, but finally nodding, walking away from her, holding her hand until she let it go by inertia. It was becoming more and more evident that the lady had something up her sleeve, and you dedicated that moment of solitude to imagine what it was.

“(Y/N)?” a girl who passed in front of you, and whom you recognized instantly, stopped, looking at you with a smile.

“Ivana,” you said blinking several times, seeing, for a long time, your best friend in front of you. “Is that you?”

“It seems so, I could ask you the same thing,” the amused girl said, coming closer to melt into a loving hug with you. “(Y/N), I'm so glad to see you, it's been a while since... well, I haven't seen you around here.”

“I was at mass just yesterday,” you said, feeling comfort in the arms of your old friend, but separating shortly after. “Didn't you see me?”

“Um, no,” she said, frowning. “I guess we can't see much from our secluded spot,” she explained, something that made you nod.

“It's true, I was in the front row,” you said, scratching the back of your neck.

“How brave,” she joked, giving you a nudge. “Although, judging by what I've heard, I'm not surprised.”

“What are you talking about?” you said curiously, to which the girl turned her gaze to the Duke and the lady.

“I don't know what to say, (Y/N), there are rumors. They say you have something with Donna Beneviento,” she whispered in a low voice, pushing your back to get you a little away from them.

“The rumors aren't wrong,” you said blushing, glancing sideways at the lady, who seemed to be studying some fabrics. “I've been living with her for almost a year.”

“And you're alive? I mean, I don't think that...” your friend whispered, with a cautious tone.

“Of course I'm alive. Listen, Ivana, Donna isn't like people think,” you said, clearing the black shadows that surrounded the lady.

“(Y/N), they say she's a dangerous crazy woman,” she murmured, looking away from you.

“Donna's not crazy, she's sick,” you said annoyed, frowning. “B-Besides, that doesn't matter because she really loves me, she treats me well and she's not comparable to... you know...”

“Well, that remains to be seen,” Ivana said, with a distrustful tone. “Hey, I'm really glad you ended things with Becca, really, but I don’t know if you've chosen the right replacement.”

“She's the right one,” you hissed, clenching your fists, nervous about her lack of trust in the love of your life. “Donna is good, loving, kind and treats me well. Everyone says she's a monster, but they're wrong. Becca was a monster.”

“Oh, well... you're right about that, I mean, at least I know what Becca was like and her... well, I don't know her,” your friend said, without taking her eyes off the lady. “I-If you think you're okay with Lady Beneviento, I guess I have to support you.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, grabbing your friend's hands caressing them in a friendly way, with a warm smile. “Your support is very important to me. Maybe we should meet someday, and we can talk about it better.”

“I wanted to hear that for over two years,” Ivana said, changing her gaze to an amused one. “Maybe you're right, there's only one way to know... you, me, beer, Luiza's house…”

“Sounds nostalgically fantastic,” you joked, making both of you laugh in amusement, without letting your hands go.

Ivana's laughter faded in an instant, looking at something behind you, over your shoulder.

You shouldn't be surprised, since, behind you, was the lady in black, with the same calm, but threatening posture.

“Donna,” you said, approaching the lady and grabbing her arm, forcing her to take a couple of steps forward. “Look, this is Ivana, she's my best friend.”

“Hi, Ivana!” Angie squealed, waving effusively and getting out of her owner's arms. “What's up?”

“He-Hello,” the young woman stammered, greeting the doll back cautiously.

“It's been a long time since we last saw each other and…” you commented, but after doing so, the lady pulled away from your grip in an unpleasant way, indicating to the doll to get back up.

“Hey, silly Donna, I was chatting!” Angie protested, rudely silenced by the lady.

“Um… I'm sorry, Ivana, she doesn't talk,” you said embarrassed, moving towards the lady, who walked away without waiting for you. “We’re in touch, okay?”

Your friend nodded as you ran to the lady's side, with a cheerful smile, happy to have met Ivana.

“Hey, Donna, honey, wait,” you said running after her with an exaggerated gasp.

The lady turned to look at you, but it was for a very brief moment, as she continued walking, completely silent.

“W-Well… and… how was it with the Duke? Did you get what you wanted?” you asked as the tension began to fall on your shoulders slowly.

There was no answer, something that made you nervous. You were already in her territory, normally Donna would have said something, anything, but not that day.

“Donna, is something wrong?” you asked worried, taking her hand, catching her off guard.

The lady in black growled unpleasantly, breaking away from your grip again, walking faster.

“Donna, honey, what's wrong?” you asked nervous, more and more nervous.

She walked quickly, with Angie tugging at her dress, trying to get her attention for something. Donna didn't pay attention to her, and neither to your calls.

“Donna, wait,” you said agitated by the fast pace, with your heart beating so hard in your chest, that at any moment it would burst out of it.

Anxiety had already formed in your body when you entered the mansion. You knew something was wrong, you were sure, but you didn't know how to face it.

“Donna…” you whispered, moving closer to her as she removed her veil.

Her gaze was colder than an iceberg, and she looked away too quickly for you to interpret it.

“Donna, darling,” you said hastily, grabbing her by the shoulder before she walked away again. “W-Wait…”

“Lasciami,” she hissed in a dangerous whisper, moving abruptly so your hand would leave her body. “Non toccarmi.”

“What? Donna, please, what…”

Before you could finish your question, the lady growled again, quickly walking away towards the elevator hallway, descending to the basement without another word.

Confused, nervous, with your whole body shaking due to bad memories, from what that behavior evoked in your mind, you looked everywhere, searching for an answer.

“Uh-Oh…” Angie murmured, returning from the hallway.

The situation was strange; Donna had left her doll upstairs.

“A-Angie, what's wrong? What's wrong with her?” you asked, nervously playing with your hands. “Why is she acting like that?”

“I don't know,” the doll said, scratching her head comically. “She seems angry.”

“Angry?” you asked, approaching the puppet, who nodded slightly. “Is it that…? Did something happen with the Duke?”

“No,” Angie said, thoughtfully. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“T-Then…” you murmured, controlling your tremors, coming to a terrible conclusion. “It's because of something I've done… right?”

“What? You? What did you do?” the doll asked, dropping onto a couch.

You followed her, thinking that at any moment you were going to explode with anxiety.

“A-Angie… Was it my fault? I just… Oh, Gods, isn't it because I…? Did she get upset about Ivana?” you asked out loud, not finding any other reason that could explain her attitude.

The doll shrugged, making the tension almost unbearable.

“You and Donna don't share a mind?” you asked curiously, glancing at the elevator hallway.

“We do,” the doll said, in a passive tone. “But before you ask, no, I can't know what she's thinking. She learned a long time ago… how to put it, not to let me get involved in her business.”

“W-well, then I guess I have to talk to her. If I've done something wrong…” you said, getting up from the couch with a nervous gasp.

“No!” the doll screamed, standing in front of you with her arms outstretched. “No, silly!”

“Why not? I have to know what I did wrong,” you said, dodging the doll and walking back to the elevator.

“No, silly, don't go now!” Angie shrieked again, running to your side with her hands on your legs. “Wait a bit and she'll just get over it…”

“I…” you said confused. “Fine,” you whispered, glancing at the hallway and walking away, to which Angie sighed in relief.

Listening to Donna's inseparable companion was always the best option, but that time, that damn time, minutes passed and nothing changed. The brunette showed no signs of life, she was downstairs.

“I'm going down,” you said, throwing away the cards you were playing with Angie and getting up from the floor.

“Hey, hey, hey, am I talking to the walls? Leave Donna alone, you idiot,” Angie said, following you again.

“It's been more than an hour, no... I can't just leave it be,” you said, shaking your head and opening the elevator gate.

“Wait for me!” the doll shrieked, sneaking past you as you pressed the button. “Silly, it's not a good idea... come up, please.”

“No, Angie, if she's in trouble, I have to do something,” you insisted already in the basement, walking quickly to the workshop.

“You'll be in trouble if you disturb Donna now, stupid, listen to Angie, Angie wants to help you,” the doll said, pulling your dress.

You ignored her, opening the doors of the workshop.

The lady in black was sitting at her work table, staring into space, not moving. She didn't even turn her head when she heard you enter.

“Donna, Donna,” Angie said, pulling at her clothes. “Hey, Donna, don’t...”

“Taci,” the lady hissed in a hoarse, dangerous tone, making the puppet run back to your side.

“(Y/N), go away...” the puppet whispered, pushing you towards the exit.

Once again you ignored her advice, approaching the woman in black with a slow step, almost clumsy because of your nerves.

“D-Donna, my love…” you whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder, a hand she pulled away with a sharp movement. “Honey, please…”

The lady didn't even look at you. She kept her eyes fixed on a seemingly unimportant place in front of her.

“Listen to me, I… I don't know what I could have done to offend you, but I beg you to forgive me, or at least tell me what…” you murmured with your voice broken by her indifference.

A loud bang made you step back, frightened. The lady in black hit the table with excessive force, causing several objects to fall to the floor.

“You want me to tell you what you've done…” Donna hissed, slowly getting up, her knuckles white from the strength with which she clenched her fists. “What have you done!? You dare ask me what you've done!?” she shrieked, making you retreat even further, being chased by her.

“Donna…” You sighed somewhat scared, burned by the fire that emanated from her furious, unhinged gaze. “I don't know what you're talking about, I…”

“You don't know anything, do you? You never know anything,” she growled, with a nervous tic that revealed her crisis. “You're always the submissive and poor (Y/N). How good and quiet you are, tesoro… Is that how you do things? Do you deceive people with that pathetic attitude and then stab them in the back?”

“Please, no…” you murmured in a weak voice, crashing into a wall, cornered in front of Donna, who kept stabbing you with her gaze.

The memories, your demons, your feelings… Everything dangerously resembled moments from your past, terrible moments.

“Please, no,” the brunette mocked, tilting her head with an unpleasant grimace. “Porca puttana!” she shrieked, hitting the wall with her fist, right next to your head.

You closed your eyes, breathing heavily and shaking your head. Tears traveled freely down your cheeks.

“Do you think you can do this to me, (Y/N)?” she hissed, not noticing your fear, your crying or your nervousness, with a threatening, delirious voice. “I turn around for a second, (Y/N), one fucking second! And what do I find? My girl flirting with a whore…” she said almost in your ear, with a look of hate that pierced your chest.

“No, it's not what you think,” you said with your voice distorted by tears, closing your eyes to receive her punishment, the punishment you always deserved. “She's…”

“You bitch!” Donna shrieked, hurting your heart and ears. “You're mine! Do you hear me? Mia!” she shouted closer and closer, with furious breathing. “Who do you think you are to cheat on me?”

“I haven't cheated on you,” you sobbed, covering your face instinctively.

“Liar! Bitch!” the lady shouted again, grabbing you tightly by the collar of your dress, shaking you roughly. “You're a slut! You don't even deserve me to fuck you out of spite!”

“Shit, shit,” Angie muttered, walking nervously through the workshop. “Donna, stop!”

“I should have listened to them, (Y/N). They were telling me the truth,” Donna said with a nervous laugh, loosening her grip. “They knew what you were, that you would cheat on me! I was fool enough to want to surprise you and make you a fucking dress… Vaffanculo!”

“No, no!” you screamed desperately, with your legs shaking, threatening to fail. “No, Donna, I love you!”

“You don't love me!” the lady shrieked, shaking her head, trembling too, completely out of her mind. “They know it, they tell me so...” she murmured confusedly, blinking erratically, alternating angry growls with delirious laughter. “Yes, they are right...”

“I'm sorry!” you screamed, letting your legs give out, falling hopelessly to your knees at her mercy, bowing your head. “Donna, forgive me! I have failed you, forgive me!”

“Oh, you admit it, how bold,” she growled, looking at you with contempt.

“I haven’t done anything! But, but if I have, I apologize... Donna, forgive me, please, I will do anything for you to forgive me!” you sobbed in desperation, clinging to her legs, dragging yourself pathetically, as you used to do with Becca.

“Ugh, lasciami, troia,” she hissed, pushing you to the floor, looking at you with a disgust that could make you faint. “Don't touch me, do you hear me?”

“Please, Donna! Forgive me! I beg you!” you shrieked, crawling to grab her ankle, something she prevented with a soft movement. “I'm sorry! I'll do anything to remedy my mistake! Anything!”

Donna shook her head, trembling, putting a hand on her forehead, as if her head hurt.

“Ok, that's enough, silly Donna,” Angie said, standing in front of you, as if she wanted to protect you. “Calm down, Donna, come on…”

“N-No… they… they talk to me, they whisper to me…” she said nervously, covering her ears while she moved nervously, as if she didn't want to hear invisible voices. “They…”

“They aren’t here, Donna, I’m here, look at me, look at me, come on, it’s Angie, your Angie…” the doll said, trying to calm her demons.

“Angie… tell them to shut up… make them stop!” the lady screamed, twisting on herself while you cried against the wall, with your knees on your chest.

“We’ll do it together, come on,” the doll said, moving her arms to distract the lady. “Recite, recite, Donna; it’s your favorite… Sempre caro mi fu quest’ermo colle… Come on, come on, you know it!”

“E q-questa s-siepe, che da tanta parte…” Donna muttered, pronouncing with difficulty.

“That’s it! Go on, go on, they’ll shut up,” Angie encouraged, glancing at your pathetic figure. “Dell…”

“Dell’ultimo orizzonte il guardo esclude,” she whispered, breathing, miraculously, calmer. “T-They've stopped…”

“Of course, good job, Donna,” Angie said excitedly, jumping up and down on the floor.

The lady made a gesture of pain, panting nervously and blinking, as if she didn't even know where she was.

“What…?” she asked disoriented, looking at you and frowning. “(Y/N)?”

“Look what you've done, Donna, you fool!” Angie shouted, running to your side. “Hey, hey, it's all over now, (Y/N)”

“I'm sorry… I'm sorry, I'm sorry…” you repeated over and over again, unable to look the lady in the face, covering yours with your hands as your tears soaked your clothes. “Forgive me, Donna…”

“(Y/N), I…” she murmured, bending down, still breathing heavily. “Amore mio…”

“Don't, please!” you squealed nervously, backing away when Donna reached out a hand towards you, twisting you around to defend yourself from a possible punishment. “Don't hit me anymore…”

“Don't hit you?” Donna asked, shaking her head and struggling with your hands. “(Y/N), please…”

“You're stupid, Donna! You've lost your mind again!” Angie snapped, pointing at her in an unpleasant way. “You scared her!”

“I don't… Gods… no…” the doll maker stammered unable to calm you down. “(Y/N), no… I don't…”

“I promise I won't see her again, I promise,” you sobbed, letting her take your hands away from your face. “I know… you don't have to punish me, I'll do it myself…” you said nervously, looking for a solution to the problem, one you always had with Becca.

Nervous, ignoring the lady's grip, you got up, looking for something in the workshop, something that would make you pay the penance for having made her angry.

“What are you doing? Hey, no, don't do...” she said, approaching nervously when she saw you with scissors in your hand.

“I'll cut my hair, okay? I won't be pretty for anyone this way,” you said with a pleading laugh, grabbing a lock of hair, ready to pay for your mistakes.

“What?! Have you gone crazy?” Donna asked, running to snatch the scissors from you. “(Y/N), please stop... doing that...”

“It's the least I can do to make it up to you...” you sobbed, struggling with her, without success, she was always stronger than you. “It's what she would want...”

“She? What...? Gods, (Y/N)...” the lady sighed, leaving the scissors and grabbing you by the shoulders. “You're talking about your ex, right? Did she do this to you?”

“I deserved it,” you said with a broken voice, with a sore throat. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry…”

“Basta, basta, per favore…” Donna pleaded, breathing nervously again. “I didn't want you to… Gods, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry… I've lost my mind and I don't… cazzo… what have I done?” she lamented, putting her hands on her head.

“Screw things up as always, although I must admit that it is her fault for insisting,” Angie said, looking at her hands.

“Oh, cazzo…” Donna hissed, struggling with you to be able to hug you. “Amore mio, please, forgive me, I beg you… it wasn't me… I just… Gods… I'm not okay and… Oh, tesoro, please, I beg you… look at me…”

You obeyed, looking into her eye, at the extinguished, disappeared sparkle of rage.

“I just got jealous and… I lost control…” the lady explained, wiping away your tears while you were unable to utter a single word. “I never wanted to hurt you. I would never hurt you… I'm not like… her…”

“What a way to show it,” Angie said ironically, making you wake up from that nightmare.

“Aren't you going to hit me?” you asked, calming your crying, your fear.

“I would never do such a thing… you have to believe me,” Donna whispered, dragging your body towards hers, falling to the floor, cradling you, feeling her tears on your skin as well. “I'm so sorry, (Y/N), you should never have seen me like this… I'm sorry…”

“Donna…” you sobbed, letting her arms hug you, arms that you no longer feared, but that scared you, too much. “Donna…”

“Listen to me, I didn't mean to tell you those things… it wasn't me… if anyone deserves a slap, it's me,” she whispered as she cradled you, repentant, terribly hurt by her madness. “Come on, hit me.”

“What?” you said, looking up and shaking your head.  “No…”

“Do it, I deserve it,” Donna insisted.

Before you could refuse for the second time, a dull noise echoed in the workshop. Angie had taken that request as her own and had crossed the brunette's face, leaving her speechless.

“Ouch! Angie!” the lady shrieked, with a hand on her wounded cheek.

“She would never do it,” the doll said, amused, managing, after a while of suffering, to get a smile out of you. “(Y/N), are you okay?”

“Y-Yes, I think so,” you murmured, letting her affection pass through your skin, her apologies being heard by your ears. Becca never apologized.

“I told you that you shouldn't come down,” Angie said, while the lady lamented with her forehead next to yours. “Donna is sick and sometimes she hears voices that tell her horrible things. She is a jealous fool, but I swear to you by Giovanni Beneviento, my creator, that she loves you, and that she would never hurt you. I give you my word.”

“I…” you whispered, also calming the lady's crying. “You weren't upset about my friend?”

“Yes, but... I'm a stupid jealous thing... you have to forgive me... you have to...”

You cut her off with a kiss.

Maybe together, you could put an end to your demons.

[l-in-the-light]

Chapter 1131 commentary

Finally the long break is over!! And no break next week :3 Let's start from the survey again, they're honestly quite fun to come up with :D

Now, let's move on to the chapter itself :D

Luffy's so excited! And why? Because finally it's confirmed they're in Elbaf! Which means I was right, his excitement from before wasn't because he saw Elbaf (this is the reaction right here instead), it was because of the snow! :D

Luffy is so excited and he's not even listening to Loki anymore, lol. Loki at first follows through, but soon he can't even sneak in a word anymore, haha. The manipulator having a hard time getting Luffy's attention. A moment later he snaps and scolds Luffy, I mean... for a master manipulator he's not overly patient or good at steering those conversations in direction he wants them to go...

Hm, interesting how Loki treats humans. He clearly takes care of them, but thinks of himself as their master and requires they call and treat him this way. Reminds me of those thoughts I had in previous chapter commentaries, that for giant people normal humans will seem like toys, puppets or slaves. Though it is worth noting Loki seems to indeed take care of them properly, so maybe more puppets or underlings. I wonder why they wear gas masks... because of the putrid smell?

Treasure Tree Adam confirmed!!! So it's actually not Yggdrasil!

Seems Loki has the same issue as Luffy with remembering people's names, lolol. Loppy, can you imagine...

The Realm of the Dead, lowest layer of Elbaf or also "the first world", where criminals and condemned are kept, a prison and execution ground. Where humans wander around as "walking corpses" (in clothes covered in "putrid smell", in blood from the deceased perhaps?), to disguise their presence to survive, otherwise they will get devoured by the beasts. They seem to be also servants (of the sun god?), they end up here by "defying Elbaf" or by trying to challenge it. It's indeed a lot like Rodo's detention centre roleplay model. Seems Luffy doesn't like the sound of it. Later in Hajrudin's scene we learn that it's also a hunting ground for the brave warriors (but who isn't brave in Elbaf, the land of war?).

It's worth noting that the accursed prince Loki apparently was held in this lowest layer since he was born (or soon after he was born). He says it himself: he friended the beasts because he knows them ever since he was a child. So the conclusion here is that he must have been kept in this underworld realm for most of his life? After all only those "who defy Elbaf, criminals and condemned" are living here. My hypothesis that he is called accursed because of some prophecy or mark he was born with, seems to line up with those pieces of information we got so far.

I admit I'm impressed with Luffy. He actually did not attempt to free Loki, despite the fact he was so shocked that Loki was kept here for 6 years. He listens to him and stays with him, but doesn't agree to his ideas and doesn't even comment much. I'm proud of Luffy, Law would be proud too, Luffy is no longer causing random chaos without knowing more about the situation. Is Luffy finally growing up? 💔

More lore. The World of the Dead belongs to the Sun, hm? Is that why Loki is kept here or is he calling himself a sun god as the result of becoming a master of this realm (by making everyone his underlings so now he is their god)? Interesting.

Also it's kinda rare to associate sun with underworld, not counting some indigenous beliefs of people from Amazon rainforest. I remember reading in anthropology books that sun can be linked with the realm of the dead, because everyday it makes a journey on the sky and finishes it in the underworld (then the night falls on the world). If you hop in on the sun god's carriage (it's actually a canoe swimming on the sky carried by two big birds), you can actually travel between the world of the living and the world of the dead. The god can be nice enough to transport back a lost human that ended up in the underworld because of grief and falling through one of the pekari pig's holes in the ground. But the human that is dead but returns back to the world of living will appear to humans like a regular pekari pig. Apparently after humans die they turn into pekari pigs and are kept in pens by the god of the underworld, who takes care of them. It's actually not clear which god it was. The myths refer to them as "master of the pigs". It might have been the sun god, or god of the underworld, or maybe it's one and the same being.

Amazonian myths are very interesting, but rarely ever referenced in modern fiction. I don't know if Oda is referencing it here, but the moment they called Sun the God of the Underworld, I instantly thought of that. I will be surprised if anyone in OP fandom even considered the possiblity that sun can be linked with the realm of the dead! Oh, it makes me have so many interesting thoughts and observations about the world of One Piece in general...

Also, nice worldbuilding intro to Elbaf. Seems Elbaf has "multiple" worlds, each located on it's own level of the tree Adam; it's very similar to the norse mythology realms that you can travel into by descending or ascending Yggdrasil :D

Luffy already tamed those beasts, huh XD five beasts, a bear, a gorilla, a wolf (I think it's a wolf at least?), an elephant/mammoth and a snake. Snakes and gorillas often appear in important worldbuilding arcs of One Piece, somehow. I know the zoology of OP is often overlooked, but I feel like it will bite us in the ass before the end of the series.

Because look at people's reactions every time Luffy tames the beasts easily. It's a really uncommon talent! It seems very important, maybe it's some special trait only passed down in Luffy's lineage? The picture Oda drew of child Garp taming some wild beast also comes to my mind... it might be a D. clan trait, or maybe it's just Luffy's lineage trait. Was Joyboy good with animals? :P I mean, that question just begs to be finally asked... at least minks and Zunesha have an important connection to Joyboy...

I solemnly swear I'm up to no good, signed by Loki, lol. He said all this shit on purpose to provoke Luffy, but I dunno what his plan here actually was. If he realized that Luffy was so happy at the mention of Shanks, then calling Shanks names is not gonna get him what he wants from Luffy, quite the opposite really. And again, the triple dot of doom... We shall remember this moment, I guess.

TCB is kinda failing with their translation a bit in this chapter. The last line is definitely spoken by Loki again, because it's another pissed off bubble, but they translated it like it was something said by a third party instead... The alternative translation also makes more sense: "if you can't move, then don't piss me off" as in "should you even provoke me if you can't fight back?" instead of the "whatever, I don't care" attitude. Makes more sense for Luffy's personality, he's not a "whatever" type of person. It was also a while since we last saw Luffy defending his friends like this :D

Loki doesn't seem to like Luffy very much, there goes the good first impression, haha. Already plans to kill him off in anger lol. (that will definitely not happen btw, he will 100% change his opinion on Luffy) Curiously enough Luffy seems to like him a bit, as long as he doesn't trashtalk Shanks.

See? Now here it makes more sense. "I will tell you more about Shanks if you do something for me". The earlier "coward" approach was such a nonsense in comparison. Did Loki seriously just expect Luffy to sit there and listen to him trashtalking Shanks? For a master manipulator, Loki kinda falls a bit flat, ngl. People have already pointed it out that he seems more like Usopp-type, selling some lies to appear more important/respected than he actually is. That attitude might have the root in similar childhood: always staying on his own so telling talltales is his coping mechanism, just like it was for Usopp.

At this point we might question whether Loki will indeed bring any sort of end to the world or is it yet another lie (or perhaps he got banned to this underworld realm as the result of a prophecy told at his birth?). And he most definitely isn't a sun god, he just thinks he is because he considers himself the ruler of this lowest realm of Elbaf, which according to the beliefs is the realm of Sun God. So it's a natural conclusion: if he's on top of it then he is the sun god himself, right. But despite his name, he's not really a trickster or anything like that, Doflamingo would easily outclass him.

Also a moment of appreciation for cute blushy Luffy :D last time we saw his blushy cheeks from the cold was in Punk Hazard!

Sunny spotted! It looks like a toy when Giants are carrying it, haha. Like a cool boat toy for kids. I can't with Zoro, always trying to cut up their problems, lol. Glad Usopp is the brain of the group.

I bet the Giants actually want to catch up to Strawhats to get them to safety, not to kidnap them again lol. Well, maybe except Rodo, he might want some payback 😂 though would he openly oppose Hajrudin, even if he refused to work under Strawhats? I'm not sure Rodo has it in him tbh, now that it's been exposed that he kept them hostage, lol. I wonder if he's now in trouble or what haha. Or maybe he lied and said he wanted to deliver them to the feast once they wake up but they escaped him instead lol.

Random appreciation for Usopp the brave warrior getting over his fear of heights thanks to his fear of being chased by their captor :D

Appreciation for their cute little song :D

I wonder what's that all about? Sun stone? I guess I will have to wait for Japanese youtubers to address this, they might have something interesting to share.

I like how Hajrudin is still full of gratitude towards the Strawhats! Even preparing a feast for them. I have a feeling Giants really like to drink and have feasts all the time XD

Woah, what a fun snake-like creature there in the sea!

Brook is cute with how anxious he is. I'm glad that finally he's around new people who are laughing at his skull jokes, because Strawhats are so used to it already that they just ignore Brook by now, heh.

Bonney's excitement :D Franky is suddenly becoming very nostalgic, no wonder, he met Robin at Water 7, his home, and they had that "adventure" at Enies Lobby together. (he really looks great in those clothes btw. Some people speculate his cowboy hat actually belongs to Robin and she borrowed it to him, I actually love that idea!)

Yet another triple dot of doom, this time coming from Robin hmmm.

She looks cute indeed. Oda really highlighted this scene though, hm. her blush is adorable :D

And another triple dot of doom. Third one already this chapter, and two from Robin alone. I wonder, is it time for callback to Water 7 finally? They even mentioned the events of that arc in this chapter, it feels like a build-up honestly. Are we finally getting the payoff from that arc?? Is it finally the time to share my Robin conspiracy theory with the world?! (yes, I do have one. I have it ever since I reread Water 7 for the third time. There are loose ends there and I think I know where Robin's story is going towards from now on. Hence why I'm so hmmmm over all those triple dots bubbles lol)

Hm, TCB translated this as "he fell and can't get up" while other translation went with "he fell and he's not moving". Honestly the second one sounds waaay more dramatic. I mean, he might be just drunk, we saw Saul drinking while he was listening to Vegapunk's broadcast. But that would make this cliffhanger really lame, ngl XD

But IT IS very curious that we get this cliffhanger teaser here just before Robin and Saul can finally reunite, right?? I kinda want it to lead to some serious development, not a gag.

Time to share the results of the previous survey! Technically, everything listed up there can *still* happen in the future, so I will keep it in mind to return to those results later as far, just to see how correct we all were, for the laughs and potential self-satisfaction gloating moment!

But as for this chapter alone, the second option seems to be the winner. "It's not Luffy's business" lol. So far in my surveys only the minority choices win and we all thought we know Luffy so well already! Hey, I was also completely off, I really thought Luffy would attempt to free Loki immediately :D

This break was way too long, I already need the next chapter please, it was hardly enough!

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

Ask and ye shall receive (I HAVE SO MANY OTHER FICS OOUUAGAHHH/lh)

Edwins ✨soulmarks✨

@2-59-amwater @imaginaryboyfriend @sweet-and-sour-sauce @theashesofthefirststar @fandomtrash-whataboutit @lilized @nix-nihili @cbartonscoffee @flufallo @lereadinggrinch @oneofapollosillegitimatekids @pineappletortilla @an0leander @anxious-witch @crowleys-turtleneck @2rose2furious @froget-me-nots @anxious-polyptoton @fic-uratively @spacegirlsgang @atariakana @tipsyscone

(Sorry if I missed you or you didn’t wanna be tagged! I tried to get everyone. I’m only tagging people once cause I don’t wanna be annoying but if you want to be tagged for each chapter let me know. If I misspelled any usernames I’ll die.💔💔)

[silkjade]

i haven’t been here much recently, and i’m sorry i’ve only been negative on the off chance i’ve been online, but let me just say one last piece before the end of this month, so that maybe the next might be better….

[tiramisuucakeee]

PASSIFLORA ★

( latina idol! reader x idol! lee heeseung )

IN WHICH: a latina debuts in a k-pop group, and lee heeseung finds himself liking everything sweet about her.

BTW: no specific country mentioned. some spanish dialogue.

DC: mi gente latino engenes. y el mejor país de chile.

read more !

having debuted in a group as a foreigner wasn’t easy, specially since y/n had a massive language and cultural barrier separating her from her members.

she was crazy talented, and learned how to go around, but the huge backlash from netizens for being different to her members, was definitely making her hold back, becoming shy, even. she did try her best to follow through with everything. though, in the privacy of her dorm room, when making live videos and interacting with online fans, she felt a bit better, being able to talk in her mother tongue with people, remembering where she was from.

sometimes it came in handy, she wouldn’t fall for spanish jokes, nor wear clothing without knowing what the print on the shirts meant. and of course, she attracted an immense amount of attention to the group, like so much.

and with that, also came along an immense amount of people that didn’t like her. because no one can ever be loved by everyone.

so when y/n’s group had to film promotional tiktoks with enhypen, she had to make sure she didn’t get too close to anyone, look at any of them, or smile too much.

which was almost impossible, seeing as this one man called lee heeseung, who was unbelievably confident this day, wanted to greet her like people do in latin america, the kiss, just a little act of kindness so that she would feel comfortable.

y/n was absolutely shocked, as everyone else in the room. it was like time froze, and the people waited for someone to say or do something. both group managers wanted to scold heeseung in that moment for getting too close, but what they didn’t expect was for her to go in for the same greeting, saying how nice it was to finally do that, to be able to greet someone like she normally would.

the situation was ignored for the time being, or at least that’s what it should have been. because on both sides of their agencies, everyone was absolutely panicking.

the girls were telling y/n how insane that was. but y/n paid no mind to it, she thought he was nice and considerate. having lived her whole life in latam before becoming a trainee and moving away, comparing what he did with how latin american boys act, heeseung barely did something, intimacy was very different in both countries. to her, this was just a friendly greeting. though her group members kept pestering her, saying it was a love confession.

on the other hand, heeseung tried to be nonchalant about it, key word, tried. he couldn’t deny feeling like he absolutely messed up. truth was, he didn’t expect his little act of kindness to make him feel some type of way about the girl.

one day, he got a weverse notification from his secret account, and started watching her live video on his computer monitor, with the door wide open, thinking he was home alone.

y/n propped he phone up on the kitchen counter, revealing most of her outfit, which was a football shirt from her country’s selection and sweatpants, before fixing the screen, pointing it towards her bare face.

soon enough, more people started to join the live, sending her love and comments. she had a big grin on her face, and her eyes lit up at that.

“hola a todos, hi everyone!” she waved at the screen, making heeseung’s heart skip a beat.

y/n proceeded to explain what she was doing in korean, with a bit of difficulty and very formally, but she tried her best. before switching back and forth between languages.

“okay, so i got this fruit,” she showed it to the camera, a yellowish type of fruit, covered in brown specs. y/n, started to crack it open, telling everyone how excited she was to try it.

“i’m really happy i found this, it’s called a granadilla and if it’s difficult to find back home, it’s even more difficult to find here. don’t tell anyone this, but i met a woman in the market, who had family living in latin america, and they told me they could get this to me,” she lifted up a plastic bag, with various of the same fruits inside, making a small smile appear in heeseung’s face at her adorable reaction.

“so, i found out we were from the same country and she was like but mi niña are you here on vacation? isn’t it school time back home? and i was like, no, no, todo bien, ya no vivo allá, i’m a singer here, and i’m not even in school anymore. si tengo como venti-tantos años, and the lady looked at me like i was crazy, i don’t know if this happens everywhere, but atleast back home, it’s really shameful if you’re not in college or school, like you are going to be a nobody if you don’t study, that’s probably why she was so shocked, and she also told me i look very young, which is a good compliment for me,” y/n laughed, finally cracking open the fruit, and then heeseung realized how quick she spoke in her native language, besides the point that he had no clue what she was talking about, which made it more interesting.

“i remember coming back home after school when i was a kid, and eating these things cold. so this would be my first one in years, ” she showed the fruit to the camera, picking the inside up with a spoon, and giving it a try, her eyes instantly widened.

“esta demasiado buena, no puede ser,” she gasped, tasting the fruit again. “guys, you have to try this someday, i swear you will like it,” she pointed at the camera.

heeseung instantly took out his phone, searching it up, all while not noticing the rest of the guys who shared dorm with him had arrived, jay, sunghoon and niki.

the youngest one went to go bother heeseung, and stopped in his tracks when he saw him grinning like a mad man at his screen, which was a weird sight, he would usually be infuriated at a video game, but he was doing anything besides that now.

“what are you doing?” niki spoke, clearly seeing y/n on the screen. the oldest one almost jumped from the surprise, and quickly shut down the monitor, trying to act normal, “nothing.”

“is that y/n?” niki squinted his eyes at him. that was when the oldest knew he had been caught, but he would never admit it.

days later, to his luck, they were bound to meet again at a music show.

backstage, heeseung couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest as he waited for her group's performance. the excitement wasn't just for the show, but because he knew he'd get to see y/n again.

he'd been thinking about that smile she gave him earlier before she went on stage. the one that made his heart race. every little interaction between the two of them had him second-guessing how he felt. was it just a crush? or was it something more?

heeseung’s attention snapped to the screen. there she was, performing with her group. and then, as the performance neared its end, y/n did her signature ending fairy, blowing a kiss toward the camera. heeseung's heart skipped. he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“did you see that?” jungwon, who was standing next to heeseung, grinned mischievously. “she just sent that flying kiss to you.”

heeseung shot him a glare, trying to ignore the way his cheeks flushed at the thought. "no, she didn't," he muttered, though he couldn't hide the slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

once the performance ended, and her group walked backstage, his eyes remained on her, watching as they all bowed to each other for courtesy.

when her eyes met his, it felt like time slowed. there was that brief moment, just a second longer than necessary, where she held his gaze. and then, she smiled at him again, a soft, almost caring smile that had heeseung's heart racing all over again. he quickly returned it, though the warmth in his chest didn’t fade.

afterward, the female group made its way to the resting room. heeseung tried to focus on his own performance, but his thoughts kept drifting to her.

meanwhile, y/n was sorting through her things when a staff member knocked on the door with a delivery.

she opened it, curious, and saw a bag marked with the word passiflora written on it.

y/n thanked the staff and opened the bag, seeing her absolute all-time favorite fruit inside. it was almost incredible, the thought of someone giving her something like this. she was sure it was for her, none of her members even knew about the existence of this fruit.

but what caught her eye the most was the small note tucked carefully beneath the fruit. she pulled it out, unfolding the paper to reveal neat handwriting.

‘ i hope they taste as sweet as you look - l.hs ’

she could practically hear his voice in her head, shy yet warm, as she imagined him scribbling those words. it made her feel strangely light, her heart a little more at ease.

liz, who had been sitting nearby, looked up from her phone with a grin. “spill it. who’s the mysterious fruit sender?”

she chuckled, tucking the note back into the bag. “it’s from him.” she replied, knowing liz would understand.

liz raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “so, what’s going on between you two, huh? you’re both sending each other hearts with your eyes, and now fruit? someone’s got a crush.”

y/n rolled her eyes, though a small laugh escaped. “it’s not like that, liz, i can’t have a crush, i can’t date.”

but before liz could say anything more, y/n’s phone buzzed. she glanced down, seeing an unknown number. with a quick glance at liz, she opened the message.

i hope you got them, and you’d like them too, it wasn’t easy finding a vendor TT

y/n felt her cheeks warm as she read the text. it was from heeseung, obviously. she quickly typed a response, a little flustered.

thanks, heeseung. you really didn’t have to, but i appreciate it

before she could even set her phone down, another message popped up.

i meant every word, and i’ve been thinking about you a lot lately

was this really happening? y/n felt a wave of excitement and a bit of nervousness at the same time. without thinking too much, she typed back quickly.

i’ve been thinking about you too. let’s talk more soon

y/n hit send and placed her phone down, trying to act casual. liz looked at her knowingly, a grin on her face as she teased, “looks like someone’s got it bad.”

she shook your head, though her smile betrayed y/n. “stop teasing, he’s just being sweet,” but even she knew that it was a lie, he wasn’t just being friendly. and if this continued, their agencies would have a field trip with the dating rumors.

EXTRA:

masterlist.