#I wish Scott cared about her more
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iamespecter ¡ 11 days ago
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I LOVE that FNAF SB art you did with Vanny, Monty, and Roxy capturing Chica!
Please please tell me where I can read your Glamrock Chica analysis! I'm a long-time FNAF fan and I LOOOOOVE hearing people's analyses and theories! 🤩
The connections people make amaze me all the time and I love when someone connects some dots and is tapping the paper going "See?! Look at these! Isn't that odd?!" and I'm on the edge of my seat going "OMG that is so odd! Please tell me more my brainy friend!"
Thanks!! Tbh, I wanna remake these again sometime because these were made back in 2023 and I wanna see how far my skills have gone now lol
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Also I would LOVE to give you the link to my Glamrock Chica analysis, but that's on twitter.... and the thought of going back to twitter..... /neg
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So instead I will put the google docs version here! Btw, this analysis was done way before Ruin (specifically, this was back in 2022), which means there could be some outdated information in it.
Also, I don't trust word by mouth, and by extension, Ruin. With Scott's history of retconning, and the very obvious lack of regard towards Chica.... yeah. This means this is an analysis that only applies to Security Breach entirely.
WARNING FOR LONG READ!
So, about Chica.
It's been thrown around that she barely has any personality to go with based on in-game when I digress about that fact. I've actually been studying Chica's movements to the best I can, casually looking up every canon footage on yt and going to the wiki for recorded audio proofs. The only thing I wish is that people would dig up a datamine about each animatronic animations so I can see them in clearer light.
But setting aside that for now, let's talk about something Chica audio-related.
So I've been thinking. Chica's speech pattern is definitely peculiar, especially if you compare it to the rest of the Glamrocks. Her speech is definitely reminiscent of that a pre-programmed voiceline, and perhaps, it is at some point. However, going further than that even, what makes Chica stand out amongst the rest is one thing: Her calling out for GREGORY BY NAME.
Freddy knowing Gregory's name is obvious, Gregory introduced himself to him. But why does Chica know, when Gregory has never talked, nor introduced himself to Chica once?
Is it the Fazwatch? Yes, but indirectly.
Did she overhear it? Impossible, her green room is the farthest away from Freddy.
My answer: Vanessa. Or more accurately, Vanny. She knows Gregory's name because of the Fazwatch.
But this.... this doesn't make sense! If Chica says it, how come Roxy and Monty don't? They never call Gregory by his name, not even once! I truly believe that they DON'T KNOW GREGORY'S NAME. You can argue that perhaps, it's just their method of speaking. i.e, "kid" and "little guy", and it's a bit that but I really think otherwise.
Why? it's because they're not under influence like Chica is. More on that later. (elaborated further on "About Roxy and Monty.... and why Chica is odder in terms of hunting methods than the two.")
Something I wanna bring to the table as well: Chica may be selectively mute. Or to be more precise, is going through traumatic mutism.
I've talked about this a bit with my friends on discord, this is something that I've found. We know for a fact that Chica's voice is pretty damn powerful. Enough to make Freddy's voice more gravelly than it is, and to produce high frequencies that disable voice-activated locks. A blessing for players, but a curse for the chicken.
Therefore, what if Chica doesn't want to speak at all outside of the hack?
Some evidences to back this up:
The biggest clue of them all, The duffelbags.
A report about her upgrade shows that her experimental voicebox caused impairment to bot navigations, and a lot of chaos + lawsuits from party attenders. This voicebox was never replaced despite advisement saying (which makes me wonder what the hell happened to her old voicebox-), so I think Glamrock Chica developed a fear of raising her tone, or speaking entirely.
(- MAINT LOG: CHICA - Don't let her sing! Messes with the navigation of the other bots. Horrible results when she sang during live performance. S.T.A.F.F. bots dropping serving trays, chaos, guest injuries, 12 lawsuits. Experimental voice box test failed. Replacement advised. -)
The vents scene. Out of everyone, Glamrock Chica NEVER spoke in the vents section.
We never hear a sound from her, not even a squeak, a grunt, a sigh or a sound of acknowledgement. She just... plays her guitar. We hear Monty raging in his room, Roxy complementing herself, And Freddy, well, being Freddy. In fact, we never get to hear ANYTHING from her verbal-wise, that is until she begins chasing down Gregory. You know, when she's already hacked.
Staying around Chica's vicinity.
After a round or two of her voicelines, Chica starts sobbing. What's weird is that this "crying" is almost silent. Like, she doesn't wanna allow anyone to hear it. She's holding it back but at the same time, she just can't. Here's a yt video that a poster explains how they got this line: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cK7cQphVgZw
Lastly, her voiceline's tone.
She speaks in a sing-song manner, yet sometimes it sounds almost like a whisper. Reminiscent of Vanny's tone as well. What does help back this last evidence is the fact that Freddy has a scrapped voiceline in the Burntrap fight with the SAME DAMN SING-SONG TONE.
Also, can we please talk about Chica's behavioral pattern?
Not enough people point this out, but like damn. Does she look SO uninterested when chasing you down. Her shoulders are slumped, she's tilting her head lazily, and she slowly jogs towards you. Not to mention, that when she spawns behind you and when she's idle/stops in her patrol route to look around, she will momentarily stop to twitch, making various clicking servos noises as if the programming is glitching back and forth... or she's actively being hacked.
And what's up with her green room while we're on the topic of her behavior?
An easy answer would be that she's of course, a starter antagonist. An enemy designed to introduce you to the game's mechanics, a base foe that's a little bit easier to evade and/or fight than others. (they kinda failed lol)
However, a lore-wise answer would be that she's being forced against her will to do so. She doesn't wanna chase down Gregory and hurt him, but unfortunately Vanny's overriding her programming completely, so she can't do anything but watch as her body does the hunting for her.
Aside from that, I think the glitching out must be a result of Chica's original programming (unsuccessfully) trying to fight off the control, hence the momentary idle when she spawns in after being alerted unlike the two who immediately rushes in to attack.
Most people in the fandom believe that Chica's glitch and twitchiness comes from the fact that her insides are being messed up by her eating trash.
I can see where they're coming from, but I kind of... don't believe this? Mostly because one, Fazbear Entertainment is absolutely aware of Chica's habit to eat, therefore this "eating" thing was never intended to be a glitch but rather a feature (I'm definitely certain it's to promote their food since that's the most obvious answer), which means she definitely has a pouch for the food she eats somewhere in her torso. And two, she throws up the trash she eats (if you watch her closely in the cameras), so it doesn't stay there long enough to mess with her insides.
Chica's mannerisms of eating trash is definitely a result of stress eating, though.
Oh, and before I forget, what about Chica's Green Room? Why is it that compared to others, hers is the messiest (excluding the damage Monty did to his, of course) ? I'm talking pizza boxes scattered everywhere on the floor, desserts, trashbags and junk food all around, like a depression room, almost. My friend Nexus once again, assumes this to be because Chica is programmed to have ADHD to be "relatable", and this much I believe.
Chica is shown in the intro to do "dino arms". Dino/T-Rex arms are a common symptom for neurodivergency (and I tend to do this as well), often done subconsciously. Also, I think it's pretty funny considering Chica is a chicken, and chickens are said to be the closest relative to Dinosaurs.
Her being the easiest to lose once Gregory makes enough distance and goes around enough corners may also be something intentionally programmed into her. Neurodivergent people tend to lose track of things easily, and get distracted by something that piques their interest (something I relate way too well)
It's also possible that dancing may be a way to let extra energy loose for Chica. I think it's safe to assume that Chica can canonically dance, if Mazercise is taken into account for this. People with ADHD have too much energy in them should it be something they love to do, and they need an outlet for these kinds of things.
her "bawking" is possibly verbal stimming, as no other Glamrocks produce animalistic sounds like her when they are hit with the fazerblaster/flashed by the fazcam.
The difficulty of her maintaining her room as clean as the others could also be seen as part of her neurodivergent programming.
I can't help but see these evidences to be a part of a neurodivergent programming, possibly coded to be like this in favor of relatability. Knowing Fazbear Entertainment, coding one of their robots to have ADHD makes absolute sense if it meant raking in more money towards the teens.
Dumpster Diving: Trying to explain why Chica eats trash
Ah, yes. Stress eating. What seems to be a minor problem, but is quite prominent amongst people. Stress eating is a result of finding comfort in putting food in your mouth for temporary relief. Emotional eating is eating as a way to suppress or soothe negative emotions, such as stress, anger, fear, boredom, sadness and loneliness. Major life events or, more commonly, the hassles of daily life can trigger negative emotions that lead to emotional eating.
So, we know Chica is a compulsive eater. It seems that at every opportunity she can, she'd try to stuff her face with garbage. But why specifically garbage?
It's a literal take for "junk food", basically. Unhealthy foods are often called to be garbage food that provides temporary satisfaction, but can definitely mess you up in the long run depending on how much you eat. (thanks to my friend Nexus on this theory)
Her systems may have confused trash for pizza, however this may also be unlikely but I just wanna throw this out there.
This is an unhealthy coping mechanism. With the stress of losing Bonnie as her bandmate, and the addition of her body moving on it's own, I think she's trying to cope by eating the closest thing to food as kitchen supplies are kept away from her, which are leftovers thrown away.
About Roxy and Monty.... and why Chica is odder in terms of hunting methods than the two.
I'm definitely gonna be scrutinized by the community with this, but.... I don't think Roxy and Monty are under control. And I get it, a lot of y'all favor the others over Chica.
I just want you all to hear me out for a second, though. I've been doing my own fair share of researching the other two.
...Not as much as I did with Chica, but just enough to know that they're not hacked like she is.
it could be:
Monty is doing this hunting thing all on his own, full-stop. He didn't need to get Aftoned, since he and Vanny could have established a deal with each other. Vanny gets kids to gather remnant from, and Monty is promised the lead role. Something that we know he DESPERATELY WANTS, if you've seen the Monty Golf Arcade stage. (Which I think gives us something new to think about why Freddy isn't hacked in the first place)
Roxy is not hacked, but she's not doing this hunting thing out of free will either. I think she was peer pressured (or coerced even), manipulated to hunt down children for remnant experiments. She's pretty easy to break as seen by how she's immediately crying, convincing herself that she's not a loser, which implies Vanessa called her one when she went through the wolf's room. Perhaps she too, was promised an audience that would adore her if she did it successfully.
Chica is absolutely hacked. Aside from Moon, she's definitely under the influence of Afton/Vanny. She doesn't seem to be ego-driven like the two, therefore she drives a hard bargain. I believe she wasn't swayed with Vanny's manipulation, and this costed her her free will. A rather unfortunate trade.
It's really weird how people seem to dismiss the fact that Roxy and Monty walks and talks normally, chases Gregory like this hunt is all part of the gig, when Chica doesn't. Because I'm over here thinking that's a huge indication that, yeah, Chica might be hacked, and the other two aren't. (or at least, not to the extent that Chica is)
And about the scrapped possessed Freddy voicelines, too. I swear, Chica's voiceline tones and his match way too close for comfort, and I think that's the biggest clue for Chica being hacked yet.
I do think that Chica was also hacked with the intention of manipulating Gregory to trust and follow her like that one "nice" stranger, since she's basically like Freddy normally (if it's Roxy and Monty that's cool and ego-driven for audiences, then it'd make sense for Freddy and Chica to be the "Papa Bear" and "Mother Hen" to kids attending the pizzaplex). She definitely gives off bubbly girl vibes if we just... ignore Valley Chica and push her to the side.
I don't think I'll be making a Mazercise analysis because jesus christ Chica I love you but goddamn does your venue suck so much ass
Vanessa and Chica: Parallels between a bunny-costumed killer, and a guitarist animatronic performer
Now this is something I've never seen nor heard to be talked about with in the community other than my friend who's really good at observations and theories, and that's the parallel between the white woman jumpscare and the funny haha trash eater --and I'm not sure if that's because Chica is obscure compared to others, or not enough people like Chica to the point of theorizing about this.
Or I just live under a rock, that's all.
But, I think there's some lines to draw with Vanessa and Chica. How they're both under the influence of a higher being, reluctantly following. Taken over, even. A human and an psuedo-sentient AI, going through the same horrible thing.
Where one has submitted herself to the control, while the other is actively fighting back against it and refuses (although fails). Unfortunately there's not much to say here yet due to the fact that we don't have all the details just yet, but this is where the Ruin DLC kicks down my door and punches me square in the stomach then proceeds to spit on my face as I lay on the floor sobbing. (Future me saying yes it has done this to me but it made me go "WHAT THE FUCK MAN." in a /neg way)
I do hope that Steel Wool explores this concept even further, and maybe even a showdown between the two. That'd be pretty badass. Will an AI win against a force where a human couldn't?
Time will tell.
So, what's the summary for Chica?
I think it's really tragic that all this speculation gives out the idea that Chica is dealing with a lot of stress caused by keeping to herself, and even a depression state.
An experimental voicebox going haywire, causing trauma to her evolving psuedo-sentience code and refraining her from speaking most of the time. The start of an unhealthy food obsession as coping mechanism. And then after that, mourning the sudden loss of someone called a friend, coupled by a virus corrupting her systems, further strengthening the desire of emotional consumption. A robot programmed to be quirky and relatable, going through so much, and what makes this even worse is the fact that I don't think ANYONE in the Glamrocks ever know about what she's dealing with.
She only eats trash when she's alone and separated from the rest of the hunters, and weeps silently, keeping her sobs of grief to herself only. A kind-hearted figure, ruined by serial killer's doing. She cares SO MUCH as evidenced by the intro, yet the care she receives back is little to none.
A character thrown to the side all because her story isn't out there, like Freddy acting as a father-figure fill-in for a homeless orphan, Roxy with her low self-esteem hidden underneath a fragile sense of narcissism, or even Monty with his strong desire to be the one underneath the spotlight and willing to do whatever it takes just to make that come true. Hell, there's more Bonnie fans than Chica and the guy doesn't even make a single appearance.
Instead, she's disregarded by the community to be the bland one all because of misunderstandings and lack of evidences presented onto the table.
I think, out of all of them, she deserved her brutal fate THE LEAST if not at all.
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Thank you for reading if you've reached this far! I believe I wrote this analysis with some passive aggressiveness because I was so frustrated that I could barely get my voice out to talk to the fandom about Chica, but I tried my best to make it more... polite lol
Hopefully, tumblr is nicer than twitter when it comes to theories.
Also, I actually wanted to make my own version of Chica's venue! Please someone ask me about it please please please please please Mazercise physically hurts me to the core
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the-somwthing ¡ 3 months ago
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Poorly describing the life series players to help people pick which pov they want to watch
Grian: acts like he really cares about the rules but he doesn’t
Joel: probably on his red life right now
Jimmy: The Underdog
Cleo: arsonist in a constant state of divorce
Scar: just wants friends and money, but uses money-making tactics to make friends and friendship-skills to make money
Bdubs: extremely devoted, But Watch Out
Tango: least careful guy out there
Impulse: his series never has any form of betrayal in it trust
Etho: watch in real time as his reputation as a cool guy gets washed away
Skizz: wholesome and vicious but tends to mix up when he should be which
Martyn: funnyman lore guy theater kid
Scott: thought this was a house building competition. always killing himself. wins.
Pearl: watch in real time as she slowly goes insane
BigB: adhd but not in the overstimulating way. Watch in real time as he slowly becomes a compulsive liar
Ren: theater kid SUPREME
Mumbo: the least loyal guy in the whole series imo
Lizzie: doing her best to understand what’s going on at any given moment, terrified
Gem: (I wish I had more than one season to go off of) likes to make fun of people
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tteotlma ¡ 3 months ago
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Unspoken
to everyone he's the indestructible wolverine, to you he's just logan —
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Bf!Logan/Reader (3.5kw)
a/n: I’m kinda over smut rn.. It requires too much thinking rn and I just want some love so…
tw: mild sexual content, suggestive themes, alcohol consumption, mild language, domestic fluff
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---
Everyone wonders how exactly you managed to bring the bad boy home to mom. Okay, not exactly, but close enough. When you started showing up around Logan, everyone was thrown for a loop.
"This is Y/n," he would introduce you for the first time at a group outing. He unknowingly blocked you from his table of teammates, so you put a hand on his arm to move him over.
Smiling brightly at the group, you introduced yourself as his girlfriend. Scott and Jean were stunned, while Ororo just smiled. She moved, took out a seat beside her, and patted it. You'd look at Logan, and he'd give a curt nod before saying he was going to get you both a drink.
As he left, he placed a small hand on your back, and you smiled at him before he walked away. Settling beside Ororo, you made yourself comfortable.
"Alright, alright, now tell us the truth," Scott huffed, stuffing his face with the complimentary peanuts in the middle of the table.
"I'm sorry?" Your eyebrows squeezed together, making Scott chuckle.
"So you're really his girlfriend?" he asked, while Jean gave you a careful eye.
"It appears that way, doesn't it?" You turned away just in time to grab your drink from Logan, taking a sip before looking back at Scott.
Logan had told you a lot about Scott and their complicated relationship - a sort of "I have to like you because we're family" kind of thing. You'd never held any resentment towards Scott, but you were aware that sometimes it could seem like he thought less of Logan.
Scott didn't say anything further, instead continuing to munch on peanuts and occasionally cracking jokes, flashing you his award-winning smile. The group settled into casual chit-chat, with Logan's body pressed beside yours despite sitting in separate chairs.
His arm slung around the back of your chair, his thumb occasionally brushing against your arm - a subtle reminder that despite all the people in the bar, you could freely focus on whatever, knowing he had you.
As the night wore on, stories and laughs were shared, the alcohol doing a good job of loosening everyone up, especially you and Logan. You were still at a point in your relationship where everything felt fresh to the outside, so the idea of PDA was still nerve-wracking. Granted, you and Logan had touched each other a lot, but that was always behind closed doors. In public, Logan preferred to be more of a guard dog, always standing over you wherever you went.
It never bothered you. In fact, you relished the fact that Logan never left your line of sight; he made you feel protected and special. He never pushed your comfort level, and vice versa. You were acutely aware of Logan's character flaws, and mixed with the fact that it had been years since you'd dated anyone, it was nice not having to force the physicality between you two - it came naturally when it wanted.
Like right now, the comforting atmosphere and lightheartedness had you leaning into Logan's warmth. Your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck, and his arm slipped off the back of the chair to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in. His hand lightly tickled your side as you absentmindedly ran your nails up his denim-clad thigh, the repetitive motion and feel of the micro-grooves beneath your fingers keeping you grounded.
You tried paying attention to the conversation, but each time Logan laughed, your whole body would shake along with his, and the deep rumble of his laughter would erupt from his chest - a sound you wished you could melt into.
"So why are you with Logan?" Jean asked, her cheeks flushed as she stared between you and Logan, watching the way his fingers played with the fabric of your shirt.
You ripped yourself away from thoughts of your boyfriend and tried to focus on the question at hand. "I'm sorry?" you said, having heard the question but unsure how to answer.
"Why Logan?"
You shifted in your seat to stare at the beefy man beside you. He looked down at you, a small smirk on his lips.
"Why Logan..." you repeated, pondering how to put into words the way this man made you feel.
How do you even put into words the way this man makes you feel? As mentioned before you hadn’t dated in what felt like forever but with Logan everything fell into place. 
Everyone at the table probably assumes that Logan would be the most dismissive lover ever, a taker not really a giver but oh boy were they wrong. 
To you, it felt like you were the center of his universe. 
Whenever Logan would spend the night, you’d always wake up to an empty bed. At first Logan would run out of your place as soon as the sun would hit but one morning when you thought you were alone you slipped into one of Logan’s shirts you had lying around and when you pad to the kitchen you find the giant man surrounded by a rush aroma of coffee. And it’s been like that ever since. 
Whenever Logan stays over he’s always up before you. The smell of coffee wafting throughout the apartment coaxing you out of bed. Once in the kitchen there’d be Logan in all his morning glory, shirtless with sweats that hung dangerously low on his hips, pouring the hot liquid into your favorite mug knowing you’d never say no to it. 
He doesn't ask how you take it, he’s never had to. He just places the mug softly in front of you as you sit on a stool and watches you take a sip with a small smile. 
Placing the mug down, you return the smile, and like clockwork Logan rounds the counter, turns your chair, and places himself between your legs. Your hands find their place at his side as he holds your face in his hands, placing a tender kiss on your lips. These quiet morning moments are just one of the many things you cherish about your life with Logan.
But it's not just the gentle moments that make your relationship special. Logan's protective nature extends to all aspects of your life together, including the more practical ones.
There have been a few times you've come home thinking someone's broken in. Loud clanging could be heard as soon as you walked in. You grabbed an umbrella from beside the door and stalked quietly toward the sound. When you finally turned the corner down the hallway, you noticed the bathroom light was on. With the umbrella held tightly, you stepped closer to the bathroom. There you found Logan tinkering under the sink, the clanking sound coming from the metal against the pipes. He was muttering to himself, brows furrowed in concentration, his muscles constricting beneath his dark blue shirt.
“My handyman.” You tease, discarding the umbrella and leaning against the door frame watching him work. 
Without looking back at you he says “Someone’s gotta do it, darlin’.” You let out a small laugh, before walking away to get him a glass of water. When you come back he’s finishing up. 
He wipes his hands with a towel, and takes the glass from your hand. 
“My hero.” You say, finding your spot against the doorframe, smiling up at him, eyes filled with adornment for the man in front of you. He just pulls you in close and kisses your forehead. 
“Can’t have you dealin’ with this kind of thing.” He says. 
“Oh but sir,” You feign innocence, a small smirk growing on your lips. “I don’t get paid until Friday,” You hook a finger in his belt loop giving it a tug. “However, shall I repay you?” You cock your head to the side, and Logan quirks an eyebrow before playing along. 
“Didn’tya know? I take other forms of payment.” His voice is low as he grabs your hips guiding you backwards. You laugh as he quickly shuffles backwards into your room. 
The both of you stumble onto the bed, and Logan’s weight presses against you just enough to make you feel deliciously suffocated. His eyes are filled with mischief as he hovers over you, hands resting on either side of your head. 
“Oh my, what form of payment were you thinking of?” You ask, voice playful but becomes breathless as he leans in to nose at your neck, lips lightly brushing against the soft skin of your neck. 
He chuckles slowly, “I think y’already know sweetheart.” 
Before you can say anything he catches your lips in a deep, possessive kiss, making it clear how he plans to collect. 
His weight grounds you, as the teasing is forgotten, replaced with a slow electric pull of desire. Logan’s hand skims all over your body, gentle but firm, reminding you that you’re his in every way that counts. 
When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Now, ‘bout that payment.. Don’t think that was enough, princess.” 
You bite your lip, giving him a coy smile as your fingers slide down his chest. “Well, I’d hate to leave a debt unpaid, Sir.” 
Logan leans down to brush his lips against yours, his voice a gravelly whisper. “Then you better make it worth while, buttercup. I don’t do all this hard work for nothin’.” He teases. 
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down. “Oh don’t worry. I always leave a generous tip.” 
With a grin, Logan kisses you again, deeper than before. His hands continue their exploration as the playful banter gives way to something more intense, and heated. And just like that, all thoughts are replaced with only the two of you tangled up in each other, lost in the moment. 
While these passionate encounters are exhilarating, they're not the only moments you treasure with Logan. In fact, your favorite kind of moments are often much quieter, born from the shared fatigue of long days and the comfort you find in each other's presence.
Your favorite kind of moments would have to be the days Logan comes over after a long day, the kind that left both of you feeling drained by the time the moon came over the horizon.
You’d flop onto the sofa as soon as you’d get home, letting the tension ease away from your muscles when five minutes later Logan opens the door, which you left unlocked for him. 
Without saying a word he flops beside you, causing your body to follow the cave of the cushions and melt into his side. You wrap your arms around his neck and he snakes his arm around your waist, heavy hand resting on your hip squeezing lightly. 
“Hi Baby.” You whisper, caressing his face. He looks down at you with hooded eyes and gives you a small smile. 
“Hi,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you a soft, lazy kiss before pulling back and resting his head against the back of the sofa.
 You hum contentedly, your arms tightening around him for a moment, the tenderness between you growing. Logan shifts beneath you, his large hands easily grabbing your legs, guiding them to rest over his lap. With a bit of maneuvering, he ends up leaning on his elbow, his arm still wrapped protectively around your waist, while you’re stretched out across the sofa, your legs draped over his, your bodies intertwined in the most comforting way.
He’s partially laying down now, with you tucked securely against him, and the gentle weight of his arm across you feels grounding, the two of you perfectly melted into one another.
“How was your day?” you ask softly, fingers gently caressing the back of his neck. Logan doesn’t respond right away— he instead lets out a low huff and buries his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. 
“Awe, the poor kitty.” You tease, patting his head lightly. Logan grunts, but the hint of a smile plays on his lips as his grip tightens around your waist. 
“Yeah, yeah.” he mumbles, clearly too tired to give much of a response. You smile, allowing yourself to soak in the warmth of him, but after a moment, the thought of washing the day away crossed your mind. 
You run your fingers through his hair one last time before sighing. “I should go shower,” you say, gently pulling away from him. Logan lets out a gruff dissatisfied grumble as you move to sit up, his arm still draped around you. 
“Stay here,” he mumbles, a hint of a pout in his voice as he watches you sit up.
You chuckle softly, stretching as you stand and walk toward the bathroom. “You could always come with me…” you say casually, your back still to him as you head down the hallway.
Logan’s eyes follow you, and he huffs, pushing himself off the couch. “You know I’m not saying no to that.”
Before long, you’re both under the warm spray of the shower, the day’s exhaustion melting away. Logan stands still, eyes half-closed, letting the water run down his body. His skin glistens under the spray, rivulets tracing the lines of his body. You breathe in the steamy air, heavy with the scent of soap and Logan's own earthy musk.
Squeezing shampoo into your palm, its crisp herbal aroma cuts through the steam. Your fingers slide through Logan's hair, now slick and dark as ink. He leans into your touch, a low rumble of pleasure vibrating in his chest. His normally guarded expression softens, the furrows in his brow smoothing as your fingertips work small circles against his scalp.
Logan leans into your touch, his broad shoulders loosening as your fingers work their magic. The taut muscles beneath his skin gradually unwind, melting under the warmth of the water and the gentle pressure of your hands. You can feel the subtle shift in his posture as he surrenders to the soothing sensation, his breath deepening and slowing in response to your careful attention. 
The steam swirls around you both, creating an intimate cocoon that seems to exist outside of time. You take your time, savoring the quiet vulnerability of the moment, your fingers moving with deliberate care through his hair.
"Mmm," Logan murmurs, his voice husky and low. "S'nice."
His eyes flutter open, meeting yours through the misty air. The look he gives you is unguarded, full of a tenderness that makes your breath catch. You continue your gentle massage, feeling the last remnants of tension melt away beneath your touch.
You guide him under the spray, watching as the water sluices away the soap, leaving his hair gleaming. Your hands trail down to his shoulders, feeling the solid warmth of him. The shower continues for a few more minutes, the rhythmic pattern of water creating a soothing backdrop.
Logan steps out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist. He grabs your plush robe from the hook and helps you slip it on. The soft fabric feels warm and comforting against your skin, still flushed from the hot shower.
Logan's hands linger for a moment on your shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Cozy?" he asks, his voice soft. You nod, enjoying the simple comfort of the moment.
As you make your way to the bedroom, Logan settles on the edge of the bed while you rummage through the dresser. You pull out one of Logan's well-worn t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, slipping them on. The familiar scent of him envelops you, a comforting mixture of cedar, a hint of motor oil, and something uniquely Logan.
Despite countless cycles through the washing machine, his scent clings stubbornly to the fabric. It's as if it's woven into the very threads, resistant to detergent and hot water alike. You breathe in deeply, savoring the aroma that's quintessentially him - a scent that speaks of strength, of safety, of home.
The shirt hangs loosely on your frame, soft from years of wear. As you pull it over your head, you're wrapped in an invisible embrace, Logan's presence tangible even in this simple piece of clothing.
Turning around, you catch Logan absent-mindedly rubbing the towel over his head. You can't help but smile at the sight. "Here, let me help," you say, fetching the hair dryer from the bathroom.
You plug it in and step between Logan's legs, gently taking the towel from his hands. The dryer hums to life, and you run your fingers through his hair as you work, watching it become soft and fluffy under your ministrations.
"Look at you, all fluffy," you tease gently, running your hand through his hair.
Logan's eyes crinkle with amusement. In one swift motion, he pulls you close, guiding you to sit across his lap. "You're one to talk," he rumbles, nuzzling into your neck.
You laugh softly, your fingers still playing with his hair. It's so soft now, and you can't resist running your hands through it again and again. Logan lets out a contented sound, almost like a purr, leaning into your touch.
Gradually, you both shift to lie on the bed, limbs tangled comfortably. Logan's arms are wrapped around you, holding you close like you're the most precious thing in the world. You continue to stroke his hair, feeling the last bits of tension leave his body.
The room is quiet now, filled only with the sound of your synchronized breathing. As sleep begins to tug at the edges of your consciousness, you feel utterly safe and loved in Logan's embrace. His breathing deepens, and you know he's drifting off too.
Few moments out of thousands flash through your mind as you sit at the bar, Jean's question hanging in the air. "Why Logan?" The memories of tender mornings, playful banter, quiet evenings, and the feeling of absolute safety in his arms all blend together, forming your answer.
You look up at Logan, who's watching you with a mix of curiosity and affection. The warm glow of the bar lights catches the amber flecks in his eyes, making them seem to smolder. You can feel the solid warmth of his body pressed against yours, his familiar scent - a mixture of leather, pine, and something uniquely him - wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You turn back to Jean with a soft smile, the taste of your drink still lingering on your lips.
"It's hard to put into words," you begin, your voice warm with emotion. The words catch in your throat as a flood of memories washes over you - Logan's rare, genuine laugh that always makes your heart skip a beat; the feeling of absolute safety in his strong arms; the tender moments in the quiet of the morning when he thinks you're still asleep. You open your mouth, ready to pour out your heart, but then you catch yourself. The intimacy of those moments feels too precious to share in the bustling, noisy bar.
Instead, you simply say, "Let's just say, when you know, you know."
The conversation moves on, but you can feel Logan's eyes on you, sense his curiosity. As you both leave the bar later, the cool night air a refreshing contrast to the warmth inside, Logan gently tugs your hand, pulling you close.
"What were you really gonna say back there, darlin'?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. His breath, warm and smelling faintly of whiskey, ghosts over your cheek.
You look up at him, taking in the strong line of his jaw, the softness in his usually stern eyes. For a moment, you consider telling him everything - how he makes you feel, why you love him. But something holds you back. Maybe it's the lingering effects of the alcohol, or the magic of the nighttime city around you, but instead, you stretch up on your toes and press a soft kiss to his lips.
"I'll tell you someday," you murmur against his mouth, feeling his lips curve into a smile. "But for now, why don't we head back to my place."
Logan's arm wraps around your waist as you walk to his truck, and you lean into him, savoring the moment. The unspoken words hang between you, a promise for the future, as sweet and intoxicating as the night air.
---
a/n: quick! somebody call a dentist -- i think my teeth are rotting,,
1K notes ¡ View notes
star--stilinski ¡ 2 months ago
Note
Going off on your “stiles being accidentally hot”. Think of like a beach date but then you notice how all the girls are looking at him but he’s obliviously stiles not realizing he’s gained muscle from all his lacrosse training
(Then you prove he’s yours) WHAT?! Who said that?!
(Sorry I’m a freak)
anon is referring to this post.
did i make this ask from a different account?? i feel like we type the same. also that last part looks like the one meme of the spongebob fish looking back... ykwim?? too lazy to find it.
i would like to apologize to all blondes about to read this fic. my condolences.
☆
scott is spraying stiles down, head-to-toe with SPF 50. the way the sunscreen looks on his skin as it soaks in is downright criminal, honestly, and it seems you're not the only one who's noticed.
there's a pretty blonde bitch staring at your boyfriend.
okay, well, wait a second there. she's not a bitch for admiring him. there's been no tell that he's taken.
yet.
you frown and take a drink of the margarita lydia asked you to hold. there's a lipstick stain on the can where her lips were imprinted, but that doesn't sway your gaze from the blonde as she takes notice to his newfound abs. they're not crazy chiseled like derek- but they're definitely there.
meanwhile, bless his heart, your idiot boyfriend is singing along to the song blasting from the speaker scott brought, and he's using the sunscreen bottle as a mic. he turns to you and points as he sings the lyrics like the performance is just for you, and this does make you smile.
"is that a fruity marg? for me?" he drops the sunscreen and takes lydia's drink from your hand. before you can protest, he's already taken a big swig, and there's a shine on his bottom lip when he swallows. "that is really good. wanna taste?"
"what? i already had a taste. besides, it's-"
and then he's kissing you, pressing the strawberry flavor into your mouth. you flush bright pink and he pulls away, bobbing his eyebrows at you with a grin. "good, right? sorry, you just look really nice in that swimsuit."
you're aware, with the way his eyes dip down to peruse over your cleavage and hips, that 'nice' is code for 'unjustly fuckable.' and you kinda wish he would say it. but alas, scott is calling his name to throw a football back and forth and you brought your book for a reason, so you part ways with a mutual look of longing.
from your spot on the beach, the veiw is great. the white sands, the pretty waves, your boyfriend's pecs, the blue sky. really, the scenery is hard to beat. stiles' hair is stuck to his forehead after getting dunked by isaac and liam. oh, and your book is good too. you've been stuck on the same page since you sat down.
and there's two younger teenage girls fawning over stiles under a canopy next to you guys. lydia swirls her half-empty drink and scoffs at their giggling, glancing at you. "don't tell me they're the ones getting to you."
"what ever could you mean?" you bat your lashes at her dramatically. "they're just young girls who can appreciate hard work on a man, anyway."
"those aren't young girls." lydia nods past you, eyes darting between something. when you turn your head to look, there's that gorgeous blonde again with what seems to be her friend. both of them are slim and tall, and totally hotter than you. and eyeing stiles, much more boldly this time.
"careful babe, you're showing your teeth." lydia turns back to her own book and languidly flips the page. you close your eyes and huff out a sigh.
"it's probably just the newfound biceps, right? and the hair. he deserves some flattery."
"go cool off, i can't focus with the smoke blowing out of your ears." lydia hums without looking up.
you stand. "i'm gonna go for a swim."
"watch for sharks."
you glare at the two women across the way. "yeah, i will."
but just as you begin to make your way to the ocean, the football the boys were throwing veers off course and rolls over to the two younger teenagers, stopping right at their bare feet. you pause, watching as if in slo-mo as stiles jogs up and apologizes, seeming oblivious to their blushing and giggling. one of them hands him the ball back, and he beams down at her gratefully. they squeal when he jogs off.
you don't realize your fists are clenched until you're already in the water. they're little girls! that is totally normal! why are you being so territorial, as if he's gonna even know they like him!
you splash some water on your face, calming at the gentle sway of the tide, the cool temperature of the ocean lapping at your skin. yeah, you're fine. it was just a blip. just a blip. you're chill.
you turn towards the beach to beckon lydia in, but halt as you see blonde bitch and her croonie talking to stiles closely. you're so not fucking chill right now-
cool it, take a breath. you clench your jaw and shut your eyes, grounding yourself. you will not play overbearing girlfriend just as soon as stiles is getting attention. he needs to know that you're not lying when you call him hot and sexy and pretty and everything else that is true. this is perfect confirmation.
your eyes open because you hear a pretty, high-pitched laugh. it's the blondie's equally-gorgeous friend, who tucks her hair back and bats her lashes at him. he rubs the back of his neck, which he usually only does when you get suggestive with him.
and then blondie caresses his perfect, freckled bicep.
oh hell no.
you storm out of the water and right up to their little conversation, grabbing stiles by the wrist. "hey, can i talk to you for a sec?"
but you're already moving, practically dragging him along behind you as you make your way to the edge of the open beach, where there's a large rock sectioning off what's open and what's not. you pull stiles around it, stomping through shallow water to reach a completely empty, private side of the beach.
you don't think about who could stumble over or how the long grass tickles your ankles- you're already pressing stiles up against the large rock and kissing him blind.
he makes an "mmph!" noise when you first crash your lips onto his, but enthusiastically returns the kiss with a hand sliding to the back of your head. you barely come up for air as you lap your tongue into his mouth roughly, hands splaying across his naked, smooth torso. you press your whole body up against his, needing more more more of him. you need him all over you, need him to know who he chose and why. your mouth travels to his neck, and it tastes salty sweet when you start the makings of a dark hickey.
"hoooly- i'm- i'm, uh, not suggesting you stop, like at all, but i am a bit curious on what i, uh- fuck- did to get here? j-just so i can..." his words trail off as your fingers trace underneath his swim trunks. a strangled noise leaves his throat when you press your hips into his growing erection, raking your teeth lightly across the new mark at the same time.
"stupid fucking girls practically throwing themselves at you," you mumble bitterly before going in for another heated kiss. "as if it's not obvious we're together."
he pulls back from the kiss and you open your eyes to glare at him, only to be met with a cocky smirk and wide eyes. "are you saying you're jealous?"
you pull your body off of his, shoving his shoulder lightly. "don't look so happy! she was practically stripping you naked with her eyes."
he cups your neck with his hand, reminding you of how big it is. stiles' eyes lose the self-assured glint and go soft, flitting all over your face as he parts his lips. "you're not mad, are you?"
"at you? no." you feel his other hand slide around your hip and over the top of your ass, pressing your body back up against his not-so-subtly. "at the girls practically prowling around you like you're some piece of meat? yes."
his eyes zero in on your lips as you lick them, furrowing his brow a bit like he has to focus in order to finish his thought. "i didn't even know she was flirting. i wouldn't have..."
but you don't let him finish, stretching up to kiss again and he deepens the kisses quickly, his hands pulling you in. you mouth down stiles' neck and chest, slowly sinking to your knees in front of him. before you got far, he was all breathy encouragement. but when you look up at him, face to face with his happy trail and low-hanging trunks, his jaw goes slack and his eyes glaze over in anticipation.
"oh, are we- are we doing-? okay, yep, yepyepyep i am very cool with this, yeah-" he helps you slide his trunks far down enough as you kiss along his subtle v-line. he sighs, brows upturned for you. "all yours, it's all yours."
you nod, smirking to yourself when he has to clamp a palm over his mouth as your hands begin what your tongue will soon replace.
☆
stiles stumbles out from behind the rock a little while after you, red in the face and littered in hickeys. scott turns to you with a scrunched up nose, feigning disgust. "dude. seriously?"
you blink at him, wide eyed. "what? i was just checking on a jellyfish sting!"
lydia raises her drink to you, not looking up from her book. "impressive time."
"you think so?" you smile sweetly at her.
"unless he's always that quick."
"you guys are disgusting." scott gags as he escapes you two.
☆
im gonna be late for work because of this
552 notes ¡ View notes
heartlogan ¡ 6 months ago
Text
living to lose
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✮— logan x f!mutant!reader (set in worst wolverine’s universe)
✮— summary: logan won’t wear the suit.
✮— a/n: this is gonna be kinda short, but i am in <3 w the concept. (i wrote this in less than an hour bro) i haven’t seen this before so .. lmk if yall want a longer version . perhaps a series ? if yall do, let me know what power reader should have !! and perhaps a nickname 🫡
✮— warnings: DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS, humans vs mutants, and all the prejudice that comes with that, talk of mutants being killed for being mutants etc, xmen bonding, angst, canon typical violence (kinda? mentioned?), logan being stubborn, lmk if theres more!
masterlist | part two
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Life in the X-Mansion wasn’t what it once was.
If you were honest, life itself had begun to lose that glow that it once had. You supposed that it was hard to retain it when every day you were faced with the reality that humans wanted you all dead. And sure, it wasn’t like you hadn’t known that before, but each day you saw news stories coming out about mutants killed in the street, the X-Men were called out constantly to assist in human and mutant matters, and were always met with hatred.
You just wished that people could coexist. Would that be so difficult? For the humans to realise that mutants weren’t that much different from themselves, not really. Everyone had the fundamental building blocks of human DNA, mutants just so happened to have the X gene thrown in the mix.
Still, there were positives to life. Such as Logan, for you, because you were pretty sure Scott wouldn’t categorise him as a positive.
There had been something unspoken between the two of you for almost a decade, stretching across hundreds of battles and memories. Neither of you had actually brought yourselves to talk about it, both too afraid of loss.
But every night when he struggled to sleep, he joined you in your own bed. An incredible progression of your relationship, really, because it wasn’t like Logan to actually ask for help. Not that he did much talking on those nights. Every time you needed comfort after a painful mission, he was there, brooding silently at your side. A hand on the small of your back, or around your shoulders, if you were lucky.
He refused to acknowledge his role in your life, or his role on the team, no matter how much everybody begged him to.
The infamous Wolverine was so intimidated by the idea of admitting he cared, so scared that it would turn out like his past relationships, that he couldn’t bring himself to accept his place in your lives. He was stubborn, and wouldn’t allow anybody to have leverage over him.
It was another afternoon call out, a mutant in distress, and humans harassing whoever it was. It was bound to get violent, which was why everybody was suiting up.
“C’mon, Logan, just wear the suit.” You said, brows furrowed as you held the folded suit out towards him, watching him roll his eyes. “You’re a part of the team. Wear it.”
“She’s right, Logan.” Storm agreed, already clad in her own suit, much like yourself. It presented a united front, a symbol for other mutants that there was hope out there for them, no matter how dire the world seemed.
“Fuck, no.” Logan responded immediately, voice gruff and dismissive, barely sparing the yellow spandex a glance before he was turning away, grabbing his own jacket from its hanger. “Yellow ain’t my colour, bub.” He grumbled when he felt your eyes still on him, practically carving a hole in the back of his head.
“Logan.” You said pleadingly, feeling disheartened. “We all wear it. You’ll look as handsome as you ever do, I swear.” You attempted, although you weren’t naive enough to believe that the almighty Wolverine could have his mind changed via flattery.
He might have admitted, in another life, that you made the yellow work extremely well. That he knew the team looked good in it, looked put together, almost untouchable. But that wasn’t this life. And he refused to let anybody believe he actually wanted to be a part of this godforsaken self-righteous team that named themselves the X-Men. That wasn’t him. It wouldn’t be him.
Scott wandered in, clad in his own suit, matching visor and all. “It’s not gonna work, guys. I’ve tried. Logan’s far too stubborn.” He said, and none of you could see his eyes, but his disappointment was palpable. Logan only grunted in response.
“Fine,” You said, and he could hear the disappointment despite this not being the first time he had denied the suit. It had been a debate for a long while, by now. “I’ll leave it with you. Just in case you change your mind.”
“I won’t.” Logan said, with an air of finality. You said nothing.
The four of you headed out to the distress call not long after, three in cohesive suits, one decidedly not.
It turned into a fight, as most calls do nowadays, which lasted for what felt like ages. You returned, feeling more exhausted than you had in days. The humans only got more violent with time, inventing new and more powerful ways to hurt mutants. Weapons were being developed against mutant-kind with every day that passed, and it wasn’t lost on the X-Men. Your job was only getting harder and harder. And it was taking its toll on all of you.
“‘M goin’ to the bar. You coming?” Logan asked you, standing in front of where you sat on the couch with Storm, both still in your suits and equally tired. He raised his brows at you, indicating that this was a timed offer. You knew he would be out most of the night, getting as drunk as his healing factor would allow him. It wasn’t that kind of night for you.
“No, thanks. I’m gonna stay with the others.” You answered quietly, wanting nothing more than to marinate in your frustration with the rest of the team.
Logan looked at you for a second longer, hesitating for only a moment, before he grunted and stepped away. You could’ve sworn that he looked disappointed, as though he was hoping you would join him, or maybe ask him to stay. But you knew better, had become familiar with the sting of his rejection each time you had asked him to stay.
You wanted him to be a permanent feature of the X-Mansion, to stay after long missions, to not disappear for weeks at a time. You wanted the whole unspoken thing to become spoken at last, even if it hurt, but you knew he wasn’t ready for it. And despite you feeling similarly, feeling that exact same fear he felt, you knew he wasn’t willing to take on the challenge. To try. Hell, he wouldn’t even wear the suit.
If he had asked whether you wanted him to stay, you would’ve said yes without thought. Without hesitation. But Logan wouldn’t put himself in that situation, so he never did ask. He only hesitated. And for you, that wasn’t enough.
He knew it, too, which might have been the worst part of it all.
You watched him leave, heard the slam of the door behind him not long after, and could only sigh to yourself.
“Everything okay?” Storm asked you from the opposite end of the couch, tilting her head towards you from where she had been idly staring at the ceiling. She looked as though she knew the answer, whether she had already known, or had gotten it from the look on your face, though, you weren’t sure.
“D’you think he’ll ever stick around? Wear the suit?” You questioned her in response, fixing your eyes on the fireplace in front of you for a few moments before her silence became too much. You looked at her, confused and slightly concerned.
She looked as downtrodden as you felt, which was saying something. “I… don’t know. I hope so, but… hope is a feeble thing, in this world. I’m not sure it means much anymore.”
Beast wandered in, with Scott at his side, blue fur still singed from a battle a few days prior. “I’m sure he will come around. Logan is a stubborn man, but a good one.” He commented, pushing his glasses further up his nose, but still squinting through them as he found his place in an armchair.
“We’ll see. Maybe we can make an X-Man of him, yet.” Scott added, sinking into the sofa cushion between you and Storm, wearing his glasses rather than his visor, for once. You thought could almost see the shape of his eyes, through the red lens.
“Either way, I’m sure he’ll linger. If not for us, then for those poor kids. We have all seen how much they idolise him.” Storm said, which was true, but still stung slightly. You wished that Logan would linger for you, too, but you knew it wasn’t likely. But for the kids… well, he might just look back for them.
“He’s their hero.” You agreed quietly, before resting your head on Scott’s shoulder. He said nothing, but you felt his quiet appreciation of the touch. The team needed comfort, in times like these, you included. Beast reached over and took Storm’s hand not long after, and you saw her squeeze him in response.
Jean wandered in not too long later, having been busy helping to look after the new mutant in the medbay. You made space for her between you and Scott, and resumed your position on her shoulder. She rested her head on your own, and the five of you breathed quietly, not speaking. There was nothing much to speak about, nothing that could comfort you, anyway. The world continued its descent into chaos and hatred, and despite the X-Men’s best efforts, nothing any of you did would be changing it.
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It was Beast raising the alarm that woke you up, and Jean jolted awake soon after you.
“The humans, they’re here!” He shouted, diving into action, with Storm and Scott following soon after while you and Jean shared a single glance, her eyes filled with terror.
“Get the kids!” You yelled to her, as you jumped from the couch, heading to confront the humans with Scott, Beast and Storm. All the while, you were wondering where Logan was.
It was a thought that remained present in the back of your head, a wish that he was safe, unharmed. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted him to show up, to be the hero all of the kids knew him to be, or whether you wanted him far away, safe from what you were certain would be a lethal encounter.
The humans wouldn’t just come to the X-Mansion lightly. They would be prepared. Armed to the teeth, you were sure. And the moment you caught a glance outside of the window, seeing the crowds outside, glints of machinery and weapons, you knew you were right.
For a moment, you thought you saw him out there, until the two humans stepped apart, shattering the illusion of their shadows. The call of his name died on your lips.
“X-Men, to me.” Scott called out, and his grave expression told you that he had already had the same realisation as you. Most of you, if any at all, wouldn’t be getting out of this alive.
“Together?” Storm questioned, eyes glowing that bright white that only added to her ethereal look. She locked eyes with you, and you nodded firmly.
“Together.”
476 notes ¡ View notes
rebelliousstories ¡ 5 months ago
Text
Magical Relationships
Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader, Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Reader (Platonic)
Fandom: X-Men
Request: Yes by @oh-prettylady
Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst
Word Count: 1,466
Main Masterlist: Here
X-Men Masterlist: Here
Summary: He had spent so long looking for her, only to find that she was closer than ever suspected.
Consider Donating: Here
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If there was one thing that Gambit always asked for whenever he could, it would forever be a relationship of his own. He had seen Jean and Scott fall in love, witnessed Beast try himself; hell, everyone he knew had tried. But for some reason, Jean and Scott were the only ones that made it work. But Remy wanted that. He wanted his own lady to call his, to love, and to spoil. When he came back from a mission one day, he got his wish.
A beautiful girl around his age had shown up with the Wolverine. She was shy, only sticking near the burly man, and not speaking to just about anyone. But she was gorgeous, sweet and kind. Her ability to transform into any animal she wished never ceased to amaze Remy when they were in the danger room.
Slowly but surely, she began warming up to the other, but not Gambit. She was still hesitant around him, refusing to say more than a few words to him. It threw the Cajun for a loop the first few times he tried to flirt with her.
“My, my, my, chere. Ya face would look so much prettier up close, ya know? Just close enough for a kiss perhaps.” This caused her to flush red.
“How’s about you and me go and paint the town red tonight, chere?” She turned to Logan for help who kindly told the man she was off limits.
“Oh, I’m feelin’ awfully weak, chere. I hear ya kisses are magic though. How’s about one for ya patient, yeah?” Turning to scamper off was her course of action for this.
Each time he tried to flirt with her, she refused. Maybe he was coming off too strong for her. He knew very little about her backstory when she came to the school. So, Remy decided to switch tactics. He tried to bond with her over something, anything. But they seemed to have very little in common. But he was desperate to have her talk to him in any way they could.
After a few weeks of this, Gambit made very little leeway in his attempt to talk with her. It was not until Logan decided to go off on his own again that he finally got a break. This was not how he wanted it to start, but it was how it happened. Remy had found her staring out of a window towards the road in the school on a day off for them.
“You miss da Wolverine, chere?” He asked quietly. She got a bit spooked, jumping in her seat, and went to leave.
“No, no. I didn’ mean t’ make ya scared. I can leave if ya want.” Holding his hands up, Gambit tried to make himself appear as non threatening as possible to the woman. But what she did next shocked him.
She shook her head, and patted the sot next to her in the window. Waiting, Remy tried to see what exactly she meant, which was met with her patting the spot once more. At her insistence, he made his way over, and slumped down into his seat.
“I just really miss him, you know?” She began, still staring. “He took care of me when I had no one around. It’s hard being without him, not knowing where he is or if he’s alive.”
“Oh, chere. Don’t worry ‘bout it. The Wolverine will come back soon. Besides, I’m pretty sure that man lives purely off of spite, so he be fine.” Remy tried to comfort the girl, but only felt like he was causing her more discomfort.
“You’re right,” she spoke after a brief silence, “Logan will be okay. He’ll come back.” Looking out the window, she looked towards the road once more before turning to the mutant to her right.
“I love your eyes, by the way.” This time, it was Gambit’s turn to be bashful. His face blushed something fierce as he turned away from her. He could only hope that she did not see what was happening to his face, or the smile that appeared on his face.
“You flatter Ol’ Gambit. Ain’t do nothin’ to deserve it.” He stammered out, hoping that she would let it go. But to his fortune, and mis. Fortune, she did not.
Her giggles rang out through the small nook that they were tucked away in, and Gambit turned to face her fully. Even he was not immune to her infectious laughter. Soon, he was joining her in his own deep chuckles that boomed out next to hers. After a few minutes, they began to wind down. And as he looked over at her from across the windowsill, Remy thought something to himself.
This might just work out.
After that night, it was like a flip had been switched. Instead of constantly being shy, and running away from the Cajun, she had begun to enjoy his company. She was enjoying a cup of tea with him in the morning while he made his coffee. In the evenings, she would make a bowl of ice cream for each of them to enjoy in front of the fire in the main study room.
And all through this, they grew closer. Remy’s flirting no longer made her anxious, it excited her. She still had yet to get over her blushing and shyness when he did so, but she was no longer running away which he considered a win in his books. Gambit so badly wanted to properly ask her out; it burned within him. But he had to contend with Logan coming after him.
Oh, he was well aware that the Wolverine would just give him the tough love act, but that did not make it any less intimidating to ask her pseudo-father for permission. It also did not help that the man was currently somewhere that they at the school could not reach him. So for the time being, Gambit was sticking to making her blush like a school girl at every chance he got.
Remy loved the challenge of getting her to blush harder and harder each time. Sometimes, it was the fact that it was in front of the other team members. Other times, it was because of what he had actually said. One particular instance stands out better than the rest.
“Chere, jus’ need t’ ask ya somethin’. Will you Brie mine?” Remy drawled out as he leaned against the counter. Storm, Beast, and Cyclops were sitting at the table nearby and actively listening to what was coming next.
“Don’t you ever get tired of thinking up different pickup lines to use on me?” She teased back, finishing her making of food at the stove.
“Ain’t no trouble to the Gambit if he has t’ think of you. So whatcha say?” There was quiet laughter coming from the table nearby.
“Can I at least have my breakfast first?” Her tone was teasing, even if her words were annoyed.
“Never too early to start the greatest love story ever.”
“Sometimes it is.” The laughing stopped. Gambit stopped in his tracks, and was afraid to turn and face the voice behind him.
“Logan, you’re back!” Her plate was quickly abandoned in favor for wrapping her arms around his neck. His own found a home wrapped around her back before they pulled away.
“Missed me, kid?” A smirk toyed at the edge of his lips.
“Maybe a little.” She admitted; a smile of her own forming on her lips.
“Now, what was this I hear about you wanting to ask the kid out, Cajun?” Logan near growled in his low-rumbling voice.
“Now, Mon Ami, jus’ remember is just Gambit.” He stammered out, holding his hands up defensively. The Wolverine placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to stop what he was saying immediately.
“Treat her right, or you’re turning into a kebab. I’m going to unpack and go to bed.” Passing the girl on his way back to his room, Logan gave her one last pat on the shoulder and left. There was a stunned silence that enveloped the entire room as everyone tried to process the events that had just unfolded.
“So, Remy,” she began with a teasing tone, “something you wanna ask me?”
He could not speak. The smooth talking Cajun was speechless after that interaction. But once he began to recover, a smirk overtook his rugged features. He walked up closer to the woman and placed a hand back on the counter.
“Will you go out with me, chere?” Remy finally asked her.
“Of course, Gambit. Besides, I have a man waiting to turn you into a kebab if you mess up.” She began to laugh, but the color started drawing from his face once more.
364 notes ¡ View notes
heart--of--gold ¡ 6 months ago
Note
How about an imagine based on breaking the bed with Logan in his room at the school? Not only it would be hot as hell but also "what kind of sex are you too having to break a bed?" "Don't out yourself like that Scott"
ok ok.. i had to write a little snippet because this was stirring in my brain. i can so imagine Logan often breaking the bed because he loses himself in the pleasure but getting into new kinks is a guaranteed way to do that.
warnings: 18+ (mdni), smut, daddy kink, afab reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, talk of voyeurism wc: 556
“Daddy?” Logan Howlett repeats. It’s enough for his hips to still.
You’re whining as if you’re uncomfortable, but he knows it’s for a different reason. You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed, especially when you bury your face into the pillow.
“Is this what you fantasize about, huh?” He digs himself deep into you, making sure you take every inch of him, bottoming out. You squirm, giving him no proper response.
He really can't control how he mentally sputters when he thinks about it again, or how his hips rock a little harshly up into you for a brief moment. All he could focus on is how one simple word went straight down between his legs.
“Shit, princess..” With slow, gentle motions, Logan pulls out inch by inch, escaping your sweet warm wetness. He leaves the tip inside, squeezing your plush thighs.
"I-" Logan lets himself slam back into you before allowing his thrusts to be slow and careful. Deliberate so you could take in what he has to say. "I think about how my pretty princess looks, dressed in that ridiculous get-up. I have to ignore how my associates eye my princess with lust because she can't dress herself decently."
Your legs twitch at his teasing, writhing at being rocked back and forth. Heavens above, you’re something. Walk into his classroom with the most innocent smile in that eye-catching dress, lure him into his room because you just couldn’t control yourself for the afternoon, and now you’re calling him Daddy of all things. “My babydoll’s such a pervert-ffuck.” 
Hands grip your hips so harshly that there’s sure to be bruises left behind, forcing you onto his thick cock over and over with each steady rock of his hips. You moan so pretty, so obscenely, and he knows it’s not enough to get you over the edge.  
He leans down, teeth grazing your earlobe. Keeping his voice nice and low, "I fantasize about taking her on my desk, in front of everyone. Just to prove who she really belongs to." 
You whimper at that, and it’s something Logan drinks in. He wishes he could see your darling face, he can imagine how your glossy eyes would look up at him, pleading for him to move just a little bit more. 
“I wouldn’t let anyone else touch her, but she’d make such a pretty sight. Fucked dumb and cockhungry for her Daddy.” 
“Daddy..” You breathe, making a strained noise in the back of your throat. “Daddy, please.” Ah, the magic words. 
“Are you gonna lay there and look pretty for me? Let your daddy take care of you?” He reaches a hand down between your legs, just ghosting over your most sensitive part. Jesus, you’re soaking wet. “That’s what you want, right?” His voice teeters over the edge of threatening, a promise for what’s to come.
-------
Scott’s eyebrows may fly off his forehead. “You broke the bed?” 
Logan puffs his cigar, keeping it right between his teeth. “Yep.” 
He thinks that’s the most impressed he’s ever seen Scott. “What kind of sex were you two having to break the bed?” 
“Now, now..” He chuckles, and he can see how the other man rolls his eyes at him, even through his glasses, a scoff at his antics. Already knowing what he’s gonna say next. “Don’t go telling on yourself.” 
327 notes ¡ View notes
lives-in-midgard ¡ 9 months ago
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Taking Care Of You
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Pairing: Chris Evans x reader
Summary: When Chris finds out that you're sick he wants to be there for you.
Word Count: 1165
Request: I saw requests are open can I ask for a fluff one with Evans and reader is sick and he's there to care for her? It can be hubby/wife and bf/gf or even best friends up to you. Thank you!! [See request here]
A/N: Thank you for sending me this request! I hope you like it! The picture above inspired the parts were they were facetiming.
Divider made by @saradika-graphics
Masterlist
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It’s already been two months since your boyfriend Chris Evans left to film his new movie. You missed each other a lot but face timing and texting made it more bearable. Chris tried to call you as often as possible and when he didn’t have time, he sent you a text message. Because he was away filming Chris and you decided that it would be the best if Dodger stayed at your place and when you were at work his brother would look after him.
After picking up Dodger after work, you weren’t feeling well, so you decided to take Dodger for a walk. You thought that it would help when you suddenly sneezed. When you got home you suddenly felt cold and decided to go to bed and watch a movie while cuddling with Dodger. After a while your phone rang and when you looked at it, you started to smile because it was Chris.
“Hey, honey.” He said with a smile.
“Hey, babe.”
“You’re already in bed?” Chris asked a little worried.
“Oh yeah, I wanted to lie down for a while…work was really exhausting today.” You said because you didn’t want to worry him.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry you’ve had such a hard day.” Chris said softly.
“How was your day so far?” You asked and suddenly had to sneeze.
“Bless you, my love.” Chris said and made you blush.
“Well, my day was pretty good. Filming is going great so far.”
“That’s amazing Chris.” You said and sneezed twice and then started to shiver.
“Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”
“It’s probably just a little cold.” You said, trying to smile.
“But please promise to let me know if it gets worse.” Chris told you in a worried tone and you nodded.
“Okay, I promise.” You talked for a while about everything that came to your mind and Chris also told you a lot about his day and his new co-stars.
“I miss you so much and can’t wait to be home with you again.” Chris said after a while.
“I miss you too, babe.” You said and you both said I love you, before saying goodbye because Chris had to go.
When you woke up the next morning, you felt so much sicker than the day before. Now you weren’t only sneezing, but you also started to cough and felt slightly dizzy. You decided that it would be the best if you stayed home and called in sick at work. After calling at work, you called Scott to ask if he could pick up Dodger because you were sick.
Most of the time you stayed in bed all day and only got out of bed to get something to eat. When you were lying in bed again with at least two blankets, you suddenly heard your phone ringing. You started to smile, but it quickly faded because you knew how worried Chris can be sometimes, especially when he is away. But you didn’t want to ignore his call, so you picked up and tried to smile.
“Hey, sweetheart.” You greeted each other and Chris knew immediately that you weren’t feeling well. There was no chance of denial, so you told him how you really felt.
“Oh no, I wish I could be home and take care of you.” Chris mumbled with a sad expression in his eyes.
“Should I come home?” Chris then suddenly asked.
“No, Chris it’s okay… really.” Then you told him that Dodger is staying at his brother’s home because you didn’t feel the energy of going for a walk with him and thought it would be the best. Chris understood that and hoped that you feel better soon. You only talked for a few more minutes because you felt so tired. Chris understood that, but he was also so sad that he couldn’t be there for you. You didn’t sleep very well that night, you woke up a few times because you were either too cold or too warm. You felt a little better in the afternoon than in the morning. Later when Chris called you, he sadly couldn’t facetime, so you could only talk without seeing each other. You talked for a while when you suddenly heard a knock on the front door.
“Wait, someone is at the door, I’ll call you back babe.” You said, wondering who was at the door. You walked to your apartment door, a bit slowly because you were dizzy. When you opened the door, you couldn’t believe who was standing there.
“Chris, what are you doing here?”
“I came here to take care of my girl. I couldn’t stay away from you any longer, especially when I knew that you’re sick.” Chris said as he walked closer to you.
“Oh, Chris thank you.” You said and started to shake.
“Come on honey, let’s get you to bed.” When he noticed that you were getting dizzy, Chris put his hand on your back and guided you to your room. You laid back down in your bed and Chris gently kissed your forehead.
“I’ll go and make you some tea.”
When Chris came back a few minutes later, he placed the cup of tea on your bedside table. You took a few sips and Chris held your back.
“Now let’s cuddle.” Chris said with a smile.
“Are you sure, I don’t want you to get sick.” You asked as Chris already made himself comfortable next to you.
“I’m sure, sweetheart.” You smiled and Chris then wrapped his arms around you. You slept for a while until you felt Chris touching your forehead.
“Sorry that I woke you up honey, but you have a fever.” He said in a soothing voice.
“Oh” You mumbled tiredly, and Chris tucked a hear behind your ear with a worried look on his face.
“Do you have any medicine here?” He asked and you nodded and told him where to find it.
“I’ll get it quick.” Chris said and gave you a smile. After a few minutes he was back with the medicine in his hand.
“Can you sit up for me, sweetheart? Just for a second, so you can take your medicine.” Chris asked and you nodded. Then he helped you to sit up, so your back was leaning against the headboard of the bed. Chris helped you take your medication and then you laid back down.
“Thank you for coming home to me.” You said after you cuddled again.
“I would come home anytime for you.” Chris held you tight and rubbed your back softly.
For the next few days, he took care of you as best as he could. Chris made sure you took your medicine, made you a bath, cooked for you and was there to give you cuddles. A few days later you felt so much better, but Chris still didn’t want to leave you, so he stayed another week to spend some time with his girl.
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Taglist:
@marvelogic | @rogersbarber | @eviebuggg | @nicoline1998enilocin | @kandis-mom | @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 | @cutedisneygrl | @buckys-wintersoldier
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holylulusworld ¡ 1 year ago
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Indecent Proposal (8.2)
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Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.
Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader
Warnings: angst, language, tension, sexy mobsters, fluff, talk about sex, making out, voyeurism, hand job, blow job, fingering
A/N: A shorter interlude chapter before we get to a little more...plot...
Indecent Proposal (8)
Indecent Proposal masterlist
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“Come closer and look at him,” Bucky purrs. “I want you to watch my beautiful husband cum. He looks like Michaelangelo’s David, don’t you think?”
You crawl toward the edge of the bed. Just as promised Steve and Bucky invited you to watch them together. “It’s okay, doll. Bucky wants you to watch him make me feel good.”
Steve watches you slip off the bed to kneel next to Bucky. He wants to teach you how to satisfy his husband in any way. 
“See how hard he is for us?” Bucky dips his head to smirk at you. Your eyes are glassy, and you can’t stop your hand from slipping into your panties. “Steve loves it when you watch me touch him.”
“Does he like a hand job?” You lean closer to Steve to get a good look at his erection. “He’s leaking pre-cum.”
“Steve loves a good hand job. Sometimes we can’t get intimate because we are around too many people. A hand job under the table is always an option.”
Bucky runs his hand slowly up and down Steve’s length. He looks up at Steve, holding his husband’s gaze. “Right, baby. You love feeling my hands on you.”
“Y-es,” Steve hisses as his husband tightens his hand around his length. Bucky gently cradles Steve’s balls, caressing both at the same time. “Bucky is so good to me. Watch him, doll. I want you to watch him.”
You whimper watching Bucky, pleasuring Steve with consistent strokes. He adds some pressure on the bottom of Steve’s cock, making the tall blonde whine for more. 
“That's the most sensitive part to Steve,” Bucky explains. “He loves it when I add pressure there.”
Mesmerized by them you sit on your heels to watch Bucky and Steve. You lick your lips, wishing it was you touching Steve or both.
“Can I?” You look at Steve, silently asking if you are allowed to touch Bucky. “Stroke his cock?”
“Go ahead, doll,” Steve smirks. “Touch him. But don’t make him cum too fast. He enjoys the ride the most. I love edging him.”
“What?” Bucky groans when you grab the lube he used on Steve. You add some on your hand before you carefully wrap it around Bucky’s cock. “Oh, fuck me…Stevie.”
“He’s so big,” you purr and get to work. A hand job is nice, but you go for gold. You duck under Bucky’s arms and lean over his lap to wrap your lips around the tip. 
“Shit…Bucky,” Steve’s eyes darken and he starts panting. Watching you please his husband and Bucky’s hand on his cock are enough to push him over the edge. He shouts his husband’s name when he shoots his load all over your back and Bucky’s face.
You don’t care. While Bucky drops his hand from his husband’s cock, laughing as he came like a horny teen, you start bobbing your head. “Sweetness, what are you doing to me?”
“She tries to suck you off,” Steve points out. “She’s eager to taste you too.”
You smirk around Bucky. He didn’t allow you to go down on him, but you decided the moment Scott fucked you over that you will take control. 
“Doll, we need…shit…baby doll…” Bucky pats your head. “This was meant to be a lecture in intimacy and sharing it.”
“Let her have some fun,” Steve swings his legs out of the bed to kneel behind you. He moves his hand between your legs to shove your panties aside. “Relax, doll. I want to have some fun too.”
Your eyes roll back when Steve rubs your clit. Moaning around Bucky you try to focus on pleasing him, not the feeling of Steve’s fingers running up and down your folds. 
“Aw, is our baby doll wet for us,” Bucky chuckles when you tense. Steve teases your entrance, fingertips slipping inside. “I want you to fuck her with your fingers, Stevie. She’s been such a good girl, and we can’t leave her unsatisfied.”
“No. I want to watch you fuck her,” Steve pushes two thick fingers inside your cunt. “Doll, stop sucking him off. We won’t waste another droplet of cum. Bucky is going to breed this cunt tonight.”
You whimper and whine because you can’t wait to feel his cock inside of you, but don’t want to stop sucking Bucky off. “Doll, listen to Steve.” 
You release Bucky’s cock with a pop and pout. “I wanna suck you off. Why won’t you let me?”
“Baby doll, this is about giving and taking. So far, you mostly gave,” Bucky pats your head. “We want to give you all the pleasure you deserve. You are so stuck in making your partner feel good without getting anything back that you are stuck in old patterns.”
“Bucky can’t wait to get his thick cock inside your perfect pussy,” Steve moves his fingers faster in and out of your slick pussy. “And I can’t wait to watch him destroy your cunt and fill you up. I don’t care if you are fertile tonight or not. This is about making your pussy sing for us.”
“And after I’m done with you, sweetness,” Bucky slaps your left cheek, “Stevie will be ready to fuck your cunt until you can’t walk straight. We will keep you in bed and fulfill all of your dreams and kinks.”
“OH God,” you rock your hips and start fucking yourself on Steve’s fingers. “I want you both…at the same time. Can you cum all over me too? Maybe I can ride your face. Stevie’s thick beard is screaming for my pussy.”
“Did you hear that, baby?” Bucky dips his head to watch Steve finger your pussy. “She wants the full experience.”
“Doll, we got everything you want and more. Now, relax, and let me make you cum. After I’m done, we will breed you and make you ours forever…”
Part 9
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chloe-skywalker ¡ 10 months ago
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Not My Decision - Stiles Stilinski
Stiles x reader sister
Derek x reader-ish
Warnings: none
Word count: 1,085
Requested: TW imagine the reader is Stiles sister and u get into an accident and Derek turns u into a wolf and Stiles goes against ur wishes and u get pissed at him for doing so and Peter actually takes care of u - @cokecola4211
Authors Note: I enjoyed the concept behind this request, it was ajoy to write. Maybe a Part 2?
Masterlist
Teen Wolf Masterlist
******************************************************************
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“Help!” Stiles yelled out carrying Y/n into the hospital. She was covered in blood and therefore so was Stiles.
“Stiles what happened?” Melissa asked as she called a team over with a gurney.
“Just please help her.” Stiles pleaded as he placed her on the rolling hospital bed. He had to watch as they rushed into emergency surgery. Scott had come running in after he had parked the Jeep for his friend. They Both sat down in the waiting room. It didn’t take long for the others to hear about what happened and soon pretty much the entire pack were in the waiting room.
Melissa came out a few hours later with a sad expression. “She’s stable for now.”
“For now?” Stiles asked with extremely worried eyes.
“I don’t know how long she’ll stay stable for.” She hated having to tell Stiles that his sister was basically dieing. Two kids she’s known their whole lives and practically considered her own at times.
“Mom?” Scott stood up with eyes that begged his mom to not say what he thought she was going to say.
“Its not looking good, hunny. I’m sorry. We should probably call your dad, Stiles.” Melissa bit her lip in solace that they’d probably all have to say goodbye.
“What if I could help? The bite.” Derek spoke up, he was very close to the female Stilinski. They were really good friends and if he was being honest he had a bit of a crush on her. Maybe he could save her.
“No. That could still kill her.” Scottt shook his head protesting, not liking the idea at all.
Derek shrugged his shoulders, trying not to show how much the possibility of Y/n dying affected him. “I’m just suggesting. It would be better to try then do nothing and lose her anyway.”
“That’s not what she would want.” Scott argued back. Truthfully he didn’t know if Y/n would want it or not but she would make comments about how it'd be hard being one would make life. Wasn’t that enough? “Stiles, you know that.”
“Do it.” Stiles didn’t care at the moment what anyone thought. He just couldn’t lose his sister.
“Stiles-”
“No Scott.” Stiles turned his head to look at his best friend. Stiles glanced down for a second before he continued. “I know it’s not what she’d want but I don’t have a choice. We don’t have a choice. Plus she trust’s Derek…”
Stiles knew Y/n probably wouldn’t want the bite, not without real thought put into it. But there was more of a chance for her to live. If they don’t do it, she dies. If Derek at least tries she might live.
“We have to try. I can’t lose my sister, Scott.” Stiles pleaded with his eyes.
“If the bite doesn’t take, then we still lose Y/n, Stiles.” Scott tried one last time, but truth be told Scott did think it was worth a shot. Y/n was like a little sister to him, he didn’t want to see her die either.
“At least we tried, because Scott we’re gonna lose her anyway if we don’t.” Stiles stated before turning his attention back to Derek. With a nod he stated. “Do it.”
“Follow me.” Melissa nodded at Derek and he followed her.
It was around 45 minutes before they came back out of the room. This time their faces looked more relieved.
“She's stable and improving.” Melissa smiled, happy to be sharing good news.
“The bite worked?” Lydia questioned the older wolf. Hoping she didn’t have to bury another friend.
Derek nodded with relieved eyes. “It worked. I can sense it. Feel it.”
After all, she was his beta now.
“Good. Good.” Stiles nodded, running his hands through his hair.
“You know she might be pissed.” Lydia looked to Stiles with a knowing look.
“Oh she’s going to be pissed.” Peter stated tauntingly, although he too was glad the girl was going to live. She didn’t treat him like the others.
“Then at least I made the decision that saved her life.” Stiles knew he made the right decision. But he really just hoped she would eventually forgive him.
Eventually everyone went home to get some sleep. Derek stayed and eventually Mr.Stilinski showed up. He showed up just in time when Y/n woke up. He was in there for a while before he asked Derek to come into the room. Which really made Stiles nervous.
Derek left the room not long before their dad did. The two shook hands and Derek left the hospital. Stiles was finally told by his dad that he could go see his sister. For a while the two siblings just sat in silence. Till Y/n spoke up.
“I’m different now. You made that choice for me.” Y/n stated looking down at her hands placed on her lap.
“I didn’t have any other choice.” Stiles stated back. Y/n nodded in understanding and Stiles was grateful that she did. But he still had a bad feeling.
“I need a break Stiles.” Y/n said looking at him with eyes Stiles couldn’t dechirer.
“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, confused, now sitting up in his uncomfortable hospital chair.
“I’m going to stay with Peter and Derek for a while. I already talked to dad about it.” Y/n explained biting her lip. It wasn’t an easy decision for her to have made but she needed space right now, and she needed Derek to help her learn to control her new abilities. Peter too, oddly.
“Y/n-” Stiles tried to interject but Y/n shook her head.
“I need time to adjust Stiles. To get used to my new life, the changes to my body and mind.” Y/n told him hoping he’d get why she was doing this. Why she had to do this. Y/n loved her brother but this? She needed time. “I also need time to understand your choice for my future. To calm down and be able to control myself. I don’t want to get angry at you and hurt you. You're my brother, we’re closer than close Stiles. We alway have been. But right now, I’m afraid I’m gonna hurt you.”
“Ok” Stiles couldn’t say anything else. She was angry at him and was afraid she’d hurt him because of her anger. Anger at him for the choice he made for her. Even though she was pissed, she was still protecting him.
Taglist: @padawancat97
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starsofmilos ¡ 3 months ago
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Shadow (Logan Howlett x reader)
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Synopsis: He was supposed to love her...Not you....
So I've decided to come back and I'm doing better than ever. I have also decided to no longer limit myself to just one character I love Adrian Chase but I'm gonna write what makes me happy. Send requests for Wolverine if you'd like!!!
Logan Howlett Masterlist
Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of sex, kissing, angst, fluff,scenting
Jean Grey...
The very name was more pretty than yours. She was everything you weren't.
You could never be her.
That's why you understood why Logan loved her. You craved that same gazing look he gave her. The way his eyes seemed to grow almost soft when he would stare at her.
The crinkles in the corner of his eyes when he would smile at her.
You could never be Jean Grey. Especially considering the fact that Logan couldn't even spare you a glance half the time.
You were a background person. A wallflower. Even before you developed your mutation, you had always just been average.
Ironically enough your mutation allowed you to control the vines and flowers.
You built a garden for the students to play in. It was your pride and Charles loved it. It's where you spent most your time, tending to it.
Jean loved books while you loved the mud.
It was another boring blissful day. Nothing new. Nothing exciting. Another mission for the team. You went on them anytime you could. Your florals allowed you to heal wounds.
You always went as support. The only person never really needing it being Logan. Nothing you did ever really benefitted him it seemed.
Jumping a bit, you looked to your side seeing Logan. His eyes staring ahead. Jean and Scott had just gotten together making it known to everyone.
Logan hadn't seemed to care but you could see the longing in his eyes. How he wished it was him
Jean was leaning against. Him that she was kissing gently as she caressed his chest.
Not that you knew, but you were wrong.
Logan stared in longing, but not for Jean. He stared for the craving of being loved.
As you fiddled with your thumbs, he stared down at you. Wishing it could be you holding his arm. Kissing his cheek as he grumbled.
Logan knew he was a unworthy man, but he'd kill for the very touch of your lips against his cheek. For the idea that maybe you could love him in the way Jean loved Scott.
Anytime you believed he was staring at Jean, he hadn't been looking at her. He was looking at the you.
He was only looking at her wishing it would be you staring at him the way she stared at Scott.
Jean and him had a complicated relationship, but the way he felt for you surpassed anything he ever believed he felt for Jean.
You lit the room up.
He never even really liked flowers till he met you.
"Doll what's goin on in that mind of yours?" His smooth voice sounded out as he whispered in your ear.
You jumped in surprise hearing his voice. "Oh nothing. I was just thinking about what new flowers I wanna add to the garden back at the manor."
Logan chuckled a bit. "Always thinkin about flowers huh? What kind were you thinking though?" He smirked lightly at you.
"Bleeding hearts." You grinned at him bashfully. It was hard not to feel anything when he would smile at you.
"Those sure are beautiful." He huffed a bit.
"You know what those are?" You teased a bit laughing as he glared at you.
"Course I do. I'm not an idiot all the time." Logan grumbled a bit puffing his cigar.
"I never said you were." You quickly reassured him. "Just not many people know plants."
"I learned for you." He whispered out.
Your smiled dropped as you looked at him in slight shock. That was unexpected.
"Did you really?" You whispered out now. Logan smirked at you ruffling your hair.
"So bleeding hearts for the garden?" He asked again changing the subject.
"Yeah..bleeding hearts." You repeated still staring at him dazed.
The mission went smoothly as usual. Logan always made sure any mission he went on for you did. He never wanted you overworked.
Jean smiled as you tended to her minor wounds. "Thank you." She smiled as you worked.
"You don't gotta thank me. I'm just happy I could be of some use." You chuckled a bit.
Jean shook her head, "You shouldn't do that. Don't talk down on your self like that."
"I can't help it." You tried to joke. Jean shook her head again.
"You should ask him out." She spoke up. You looked at her in shock.
"Who?" You tried to play it off. Jean couldn't afford to know. He was once someone she saw romantically.
"You know who. He's staring at us right now." She smiled. You turned your head finding Logan.
"He's staring at you. He always does." You sighed out. Jean shook her head.
"You're wrong. He's staring at you. I know. I could tell. Trust me..I don't hold a candle to how he looks at you." She smiled walking away.
Rolling your eyes, you began to pack your things. How could she know what Logan truly wanted?
You knew she could read minds but she would never pry in his. At least you hoped she wouldn't.
Once home, you were the first off the quinjet not noticing how Logan's eyes followed you.
Quickly you ran to the garden smiling as you saw it intact beautifully.
You used your mutation to brighten the flowers making a vine above hanging the bleeding hearts.
"Here I thought you'd race to get some rest after a mission. Should've known you'd be out here." Logan's voice sounded out.
You turned to face him smiling.
"Couldn't help it. Been thinking about this the entire fly back."
Logan approached gently touching the flowers. "They sure are beautiful..."
"Thank you.." You whispered in response. Logan stared in amazement at you not looking away as you met his gaze.
It felt impossible. How was he staring at you this way?
You weren't Jean.
That's why he was looking at you though. You weren't Jean. You were you.
Logan was always a man of action. Not words. He leaned in giving you the opportunity to move. T
o push him and ask what he was doing. He didn't even know what he was doing , but he wanted to kiss you.
God did he want to kiss you.
His lips brushed against yours.
A small breath left you as he shut his eyes. Your hands moved up his shoulders whining as he pressed himself against you.
He kissed you with everything he had.
You pulled away looking at him in shock. His hand caressed your cheek.
"God I am so selfish for asking this. I don't deserve you, but please let me have you.." He whispered kissing you again.
You panted nodding as he kissed you again. His head moving to nuzzle against your neck.
He inhaled your scent deeply growling as his hands moved your waist caressing your hips.
"Logan.." You whispered pulling back to look at him. "I'm not..I'm not used to this..do you really want me?" You asked him in shock.
"You have no idea doll. No fucking clue what I would do for you." He whispered panting.
"Logan.." You whimpered his name as he caressed your head.
"I'm right here. I want you..so let me have you.." He spoke in a slight desperate growl.
"I thought you wanted her.." You spoke softly. Logan shook his head.
"Don't say stupid shit. All I want is you."
You smiled at his attitude laughing as he lifted you up carrying you away.
"Shush..we're getting food." He grumbled.
"Okay..guess I belong to you now." You teased.
"Damn straight you do." Logan huffed a laugh knowing you'd be stuck next to him forever.
Not that you'd complain though.
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tubbytarchia ¡ 24 days ago
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apologies if you've already expressed them before, but any thoughts about mounders from secret life? (including joel ofc)
Love them. so dearly. Pearl being surrounded by people who support her and don't treat her like a ticking time bomb who's gonna morph into that DL image of an ostracized witch again any second and be a burden (coughs.) is exactly what she needs. BigB in Limited Life was similarly good to her but aughhh Mounders were really sweet
Arguably the most notable aspect of the Mounders is Pearl's desire for Bdubs to secure a win. She expresses wanting one of them to win and outlive her on multiple occasions, but Bdubs is the one she singles out, not unlike Impulse in WL, except she clinged to Impulse as the one member of her team that didn't make quips and remarks about her being untrustworthy but didn't show any genuine connection or desire for one otherwise (reflected in how she tended to not spend a lot of time with him one-on-one and that of those times the subject matter most often circled back around to him hopefully winning, always framed like a secondary goal for Pearl aside from the one she was trying to achieve with Gem), in the end clinging less to Impulse than she clung to the idea of someone winning as per her wish and help. With the Mounders and especially Bdubs, it was much more based in connection and less so in Pearl seeking direction - something to achieve that she could feel good about. She cared about Bdubs and Bdubs greatly cared about her too (There's this one scene where he goes "Your cloak is turning red, Pearl, careful..." in a very concerned dad way and it makes me feel things), and he did want to win for her sake although he was clearly uncertain and dancing around the idea on at least one occasion. It's genuinely very heartwarming to see him want to do well because Pearl believed in him, helped by the continuously enforced (and not surface-level) trust between them
Which, of course, applies to the rest of the Mounders too. I never and I mean never stop thinking about that scene where Pearl is ready to flee from Joel for his ability to guess her very obvious task, only for him to intentionally guess it incorrectly and Bdubs following suit. Earlier in that session too, Scott told both Joel and Bdubs what pearl's task is so they could guess it, which Joel vaguely brushed off but Bdubs was vocal about not betraying Pearl. Likewise Pearl doesn't snitch on Joel when she clearly knows his task to backseat game her. Mumbo... did try to hurt/kill them for his red tasks so. lol. But he's a sweetie. There were still cute moments where he was looking out for the others even if he became kind of a desperate wet bag on his red life. Mounder for life.
Joel and Bdubs also are very cute just between them two. Bdubs accidentally made Joel succeed Grian's task once and I think he keeps trying to make up for it because later he's just snitching to Joel nonstop about all the intel he has so that Joel could try and guess people's tasks. Except for Etho's of course. Something about Joel digging underground calling Bdubs his favorite snitch as he yaps away above ground. He also praises Joel whilst he's digging as if it's his task to do so. And also at the start of one session, Joel is low on hearts and Bdubs is persuaded to give him his, saying "you deserve it". Then he lies to Etho that Joel was so intimidating and scary and forced him. Then he lies to Impulse that Joel was pathetic and begging for it.??? Something wrong about him. That guy is hashtag not normal about Joel. The way they went out was really saddening (and maddening) to me but it was one final cute moment if even a very bittersweet one when Joel accidentally shot Bdubs, Bdubs tells himself to eat his golden apple, which reminds Joel to eat his right before Bdubs dies, followed by Joel. Scott taunting Joel about killing Bdubs makes me go GRGGGGRAHHHHHHH and of course Scott would do anything to fuck with Joel GGRAAHHHHHHHGGGG sorry. And it makes sense, they were teammates, but still important to me that Joel cares that much to begin with, especially in the context of being within his first stable allyship outside of his soulbind in DL
Joel in general being in a proper alliance was really nice to see. Like idk when I was first watching SL I lowkey expected him to be missing from the question ritual at least once but no <3 he was always there <3 The questions they did for each session in general was so cute. It's so much like, following the text-book example on how to bond, and then they all flee as soon as they get their questions for the first several sessions with very vague confirmation that they can turn to one another as needed. But they did bond!! Even Bdubs with how god awful abnormal he is about Etho, which I already went into depths about but it's so important to me. Genuinely such an awesome dynamic... Also I love that when Joel had to make a cult, he kept just recruiting the Mounders into it even after finishing that task
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rei-ismyname ¡ 1 month ago
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The deification of Jean Grey
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When a 16 year old Jean Grey was bought to the present by Hank McIrresponsible, she was immediately confronted with the post-death canonisation the X-Men greater social circle had saddled her with. Big feelings and bigger expectations.
The worst of it was from people who'd never even met her, but those closest to her was no less fraught. Adult Scott was certainly affected by her presence, but he behaved the most normal about it (cough, Logan.)
This is a really cute conversation, clearly something Jean needs. Not sure I agree that Jean never had a chance. She made her choices as a hero but there's plenty that *could* have gone differently. Besides, she's already come back to life at least once and travelled through time a bunch. You can't keep Jean Grey down for long. I'd expect Scott to say something like that, though he seems especially pensive at this point. I guess it's understandable, as time travel is a headfuck. It's cute that he's jealous of his younger self and that he admits it.
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Scott's empathy for Hank here is really sweet, especially considering the lengths Hank went through to hurt him (intentionally or not.) The very presence of Jean should be reminding people of the culpability of a Phoenix host. Jean is safely dead and can be put on a pedestal, whereas Scott receives nothing but venom. I'm sure Chuck's death is a big factor, but the man tried very hard to die by Dark Phoenix Jean, too. It's easy to overlook the flaws of the dead, and in many ways Jean and Xavier both get canonised as mutant saints. Neither deserve it, for different reasons.
Oh boy, Jean's actions here are difficult to discuss appropriately. She's lonely and scared, she's just woken up from a nightmare, and the person she's closest to is there for her - all grown up. I doubt this is intended to be sexual, my read on it is Jean reaching for platonic intimacy. It's definitely rooted in the love Scott and Jean have for each other, something their awkward 16 year old selves haven't managed to navigate. 'The man I hoped you'd be' is loaded as hell, but it is very human. None of us have ever met our time-displaced selves or loves, and it's very understandable to view them as the same person, except not/better.
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I'm not going to credit Scott for not learning into Jean's confusion and need for comfort (because it's just the right thing to do) but I do think he understands and he definitely handled it appropriately. Setting firm boundaries and pivoting the focus to the kind of support Jean needs is considerate and responsible.
Kitty's stance and pseudo-threat here is difficult to parse. She says he handled it well, luckily for him, implying that she was listening the whole time but was also wary of him not handling it well? It's hard to see this as anything other than Kitty thinking they might fuck. I'm not sure they do understand each other, because Kitty didn't listen to him, she just banned him from being in her room alone. Not an unreasonable policy to have, but it doesn't give Scott a lot of credit. As they both leave, Jean cries which seems like a failure of duty of care. Feels like there's more going on here. 'But if the genders were reversed' whataboutery is usually bad faith nonsense, but there is an actual example here. If Kitty heard young Bobby crying alone or screaming in the middle of the night I'm pretty sure she'd check in on him. That she's dated his adult counterpart changes nothing. Adult! Scott and Teen! Jean could communicate telepathically any time they wished, so idk. Maybe just the writers covering their bases and overcorrecting.
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Then there's Emma and the Cuckoos. While Emma is the best person to train and teach Teen Jean, she does it in a very messed up way. Jean is so obviously right when she identifies that Emma has issues. I'm not fond of this plot point, or at least how it's written - the whole 'girls are bitchy and jealous' regressive idea put centre stage. This psychic duel fails the Bechdel Test and makes all the adults look super irresponsible for allowing it to happen.
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Keep in mind Emma is bombarding a 16 year old with sexual images. Jean IS a saint for putting up with this shit and not melting her brain. Telepathy isn't real, but intrusive thoughts are - and I don't think it's a stretch to say targeted sexualised intrusive thoughts is deliberately traumatizing a teenager. I definitely think this could have been written better. Emma having unresolved Jean Grey issues is to be expected, but dealing with it like this and everyone being okay with it is difficult to believe.
Then again, it seems nobody is immune to the deification of Jean Grey, not even the writers. They all know her as the most powerful telepath so obviously teenage Jean can deal with whatever you throw at her. Kitty and Scott should know better, and Emma has plenty of other ways to train Jean. Yes, she's the great Jean Grey, but she's also a 16 year old who's not coping all that well. I'm glad that Teen Jean and Emma became friends not long after this, but it says a lot that the dude writing it couldn't figure out a way to explain it on the page. There was an opportunity here to show women building a friendship off their commonalities, but instead it's something Jean has to overcome with psychic power not emotional strength - and the adults looking after her don't look very responsible.
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johnwickb1tsch ¡ 7 months ago
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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 36 all chapters
WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘
You are getting the feeling that Mariko Kimura doesn’t really like you. 
And maybe it’s stupid, but you’re really not used to that.
Worse yet, this woman basically has a license to beat the hell out of you as The Personal Trainer–how else are you going to learn how to defend yourself in this vicious world? Strikes, blocks, throws, joint locks–she’s taking her job seriously, and after a week has gone by you’re not sure how much more you can actually handle. Maybe you’re a hiker girl, but it’s been a long time since you’ve done any athletic activity that demanded you give everything you have, take a breath, and then give fifty percent more. Your body hurts everywhere. Your torso is bruised in twenty places under your top, and you think she might have knocked one of your back teeth loose with a dirty punch.
You do not want to complain to John. You know he went through so much worse, and it would feel like tattling. So you take a moment to compose yourself on a bench before returning to your room, breathing deeply. That hurts too–jesus fuck, did she crack your ribs? 
What you really want to do is have a good little cry, but that’s completely off the table. 
Show no weakness. 
“Are you alright, my dear?”
Your eyes fly open to find Winston Scott, looking dapper as ever in a pinstripe suit, standing nearby. You hadn’t heard him approach. That’s probably not a good thing, even in this supposedly neutral environment. 
“I’m fine,” you say brightly with a smile you know looks more like a grimace. “Just…catching my breath.”
“May I?”
You scoot over on the antique wooden bench, very aware that you are sweaty as the proverbial whore in church, surprised this fastidious man would dare come within six feet of you at the moment. 
“I must admit I was surprised when I saw that Jonathan enrolled you with Miss Kimura. She is close friends with Akira Shimazu.” 
“I…don’t know what that means,” you admit. 
“Ah. Well, Jonathan should.”
You blow out a long breath through your teeth, bracing your kidneys. Maybe a shower and a dip in the cool waters of the pool downstairs would be nice. 
“I don’t want to get anyone into trouble,” you sigh. If John suspects Mariko is playing rougher than what is demanded for some personal reason that has nothing to do with you, that could breed a whole new problem. You have enough problems. 
“As you wish. I am not sure you know this about our Jonathan yet, but politics are not his strong suit. He is the best at what he does, but the more subtle machinations of our world still escape him.”
This doesn’t come as a total surprise to you, although if you let Winston in on some of the psychological games John played with you not so long ago, the old man’s hair might have stood on end.
Or, maybe not. 
“Are you telling me it’s my job to keep him from killing everyone when the Camorra finally show for this sitdown?” 
“Well. I’m sure you’ve heard tell of what happened with Santino d’Antonio.”
“Yes.” 
“Perhaps Jonathan is in a better state of mind these days thanks to you. But I also fear what our dear boy may do, to defend you.”
Hearing anyone call your fearsome assassin John dear boy brings a little smile to your lips. You are glad that someone seems to be in his corner. You’ve gotten the impression from hearing John talk that Winston is like a father figure to him. You’re relieved it goes both ways. 
“I will keep what you’re telling me in mind.” 
“That is all I ask,” he says with a nod, standing. “And perhaps, a little break from the Trainer would do you good.”
A small laugh escapes you–you know it sounds bitter. “You give very good advice, Mr. Scott.” 
“I know I do. If only the young people around me would deign to benefit from my wealth of experience.” This is his parting shot, and you watch as he makes his exit stage left, leisurely strolling back down the hall like a king in his castle. 
***
Lounging in a warm bubbly bath–with John Wick’s solid naked body behind you, maybe makes the beatings you’ve been taking worth it. 
Ok, it’s totally fucking worth it. Nothing hurts anymore…except for when his soapy hands gently massaging your sore muscles find a bruise. There are a lot of them. 
It also helps that a few minutes ago he ran those soapy hands all over your breasts and aching center, coaxing a soul-wrenching orgasm out of you, all while talking you through it with his low voice in your ear.
He never actually asked if you’re alright, and you take that as a compliment. Maybe it’s fucked up, but you’re kinda proud of your pain tolerance–and John’s quiet approval. 
That doesn’t mean you’re capable of keeping your mouth shut about something else that’s bothering you. 
“Who is Akira Shimazu?” you ask sleepily, your head lolled back on his broad shoulder. His hands pause tellingly upon you, before resuming their soothing circuit. 
“She’s the daughter of one of my oldest friends, Koji,” he finally answers, his tone deliberately neutral. “He…was killed by the High Table, when I went to his Continental in Osaka for shelter.” 
There is a lot to unpack in that sentence. You start with the part that alarms you the most. “Wait…the High Table are allowed to break the rules of the Continental?” If those fuckers were coming, supposedly to play mediator–what good would it do, if they were not bound to follow their own rules? 
“Not usually,” he assures you. “The Marquis who was hunting me was granted…privileges.” 
“Sounds like bullshit.” 
“It was bullshit.” 
You decide this is all the information you need to connect the dots. If you were Akira Shimazu, you would probably blame John Wick for your father’s death too. And if you were Akira’s friend, and had no recourse to hurt John Wick directly–beating up his girlfriend was pretty much the next best thing. Great. 
“Why are you asking me this?” 
“Oh…just a conversation I had with Winston today.” You turn in the bath, reaching for the soap to return the favor to John, only in part to distract him. He weighs you with those dark eyes, only half believing you, or at least, sensing there’s more than what you’re telling him. You sit up straddling his lap, running your hands over his chest. His eyes slide closed, quiet for some time as you touch him. His wounds from the home invasion have healed now, his stitches out just the other day. Now they are simply slick pink flesh under your fingertips–as though it had all just been a bad dream.
These moments seem even more precious between you, now. You want to hoard them like a dragon with its pile of gold, keep them forever shining in your memory. You know what you’ll draw in your sketch journal tonight. You’ve been trying to keep up with a drawing a day, a way to pass the time, though the past week you’ve been too tired in the evening.
“Is Mariko…associated with Akira?” 
Maybe Winston doesn’t give John enough credit. 
“I think they might be friends.”
He touches a bruise on your arm with a new understanding, his dark brows drawn in a frown.
Well shit. So much for being subtle. 
“Is she hurting you on purpose?” 
“She’s…not pulling any punches. That’s ok, John. I’ve learned more this past week than in the five years I did in Tae Kwon Do.” You realize that is absolutely true. 
John’s eyes narrow as he searches out your bruises with new eyes. “I’m sorry.” 
It’s interesting to you, how it was par for the course before, but with the new information that it might be personal, it’s suddenly not ok. 
“Don’t be.” 
“I didn’t think I would be a good hand to hand combat teacher for you.”
“Why not?” you ask, not accusing, just curious. 
“Because when I put my hands on you I just want to fuck you,” he admits bluntly, raising gooseflesh all across your body, your greedy cunt suddenly clenching in insistent reminder of her state of abject emptiness...drama queen.  
 â€œEven…if we were fighting?”
Considering his penchant for chasing, maybe you already know the answer to that. He blows through his nose, pulling you close with those mitts for hands on your hips so that you can feel he’s hard just with the thought of it. 
He ducks to graze his teeth upon the curve of your shoulder, and your state of relaxation is starting to fly out the window again. This man. 
“Especially if we were fighting,” he admits against your ear, his voice gravely with desire. “I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from taking you down. I’d fuck you right there on the mat, and you wouldn’t learn a thing except that you drive me wild.”
Your nipples tighten with the thought, your breath caught in your throat, and he lifts you easily in the water with that controlling grip on your hips, rubbing your now slick center against his throbbing cock. Tub sex can be tricky, but the bath water stands no chance against the suddenly raging state of your arousal. Without further ado he lifts you onto his cock, impaling you on his thick tip. The glorious glide and stretch of his girthy shaft inside you still takes your breath away, like you can feel him in your lungs, your fingers digging into his shoulders. 
“Fuck,” you squeak, winning a dark chuckle that scrambles your insides. 
“Yeah.”  
It’s the last intelligible word you manage, in the next few minutes, as he uses you just as he pleases, the water sloshing all around as he pistons inside you. It’s all you can do just to hold on, clenching tightly upon his insatiable erection the way you know makes him lose it. 
“Touch yourself for me,” he invites, though you know he’s close. You’ve reached that point in your physical relationship when you know each other’s bodies so well, your rhythms and sounds, down to the very tone of a gasp or the desperation of a thrust. 
“I don’t think I can cum again,” you admit, though you’re thoroughly enjoying him inside you. 
You really didn’t mean it as a challenge, but when he smirks at you with that certain sparkle in his anthracite eyes you just know you’re in for it. 
“Yes you can,” he insists, slowing his pace inside you, arching you back in his arms so that he can flick one of your nipples with his devilishly clever tongue. Oh. Well that’s not fair at all. You reach down to rub your clit while he fills you like this, delaying his pleasure to hit that perfect spot just past your entrance that makes you forget anything else exists in the world but you and him and the promise of a soul-snatching orgasm on the horizon.
“Give it up for me, my pretty girl,” he coaxes with his lips against your skin, and you know the snake must have sounded like that when he spoke to Eve. Tempting and forbidden and yet oh so reasonable. You’ve asked a lot from your body in the past few days. Maybe this is how you die–and what a way to go. That wonderful tingling pressure fills your hips and you moan, forgetting, again, that the other assassins down the hall probably do not want to hear more evidence that John Wick never misses. 
There are stars in your eyes and a ringing in your ears as this shining, bone-shattering release takes you. You are a ragdoll in his arms as he fills you to the hilt and bathes your cervix with the hot rush of his cum. It’s all the two of you can do, not to sink into the water and drown. With a shaky sigh you kiss his lips before melting against him, re-learning how to breathe with his arms wrapped around you, your head on his shoulder. 
He strokes your hair, whispering endearments so low you can’t really make them out, but the tone is so soothing you drift asleep for a few minutes. You only wake when he freshens the bath with more hot water, before drifting off again. 
***
Much later, when both of your faculties have returned, and your fingers have turned to prunes, he tells you, “I think we’ll give you a break. We’ll start weapons training tomorrow. That, I will handle myself.” 
This is news to you. “Here? In the hotel?”
“There’s an armory, a range, even a course.” 
“In this hotel?” 
He chuckles a little at your disbelief. “Yeah.” 
The New York Continental: anything and everything a killer could need…
And here you are, trapped amongst them with the man you love. You know this is technically John’s world, but a part of you just can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t belong here. That he shouldn’t have to be back here–it’s not fair. 
You sit up in the water, reaching for a little yellow rubber duck on the side of the tub, not meeting John’s eyes. You’re not sure where it came from; there must be some inside joke you’re not privy to…but it’s cute. 
You do feel some relief, knowing you’re not going to get beat up again tomorrow, though going through tactical firearms drills makes you more than a little nervous. You’re sure it will be different from plinking in the backyard on a Sunday with your dad and his drinking buddies. Ah, alcohol and guns–a time honored American classic.
“I feel like I’m walking out of here with my Certificate in Baddass Assassin Studies,” you say with a nervous little laugh. “What else is there? Are you going to teach me how to pinball flip someone with a muscle car? Maybe how to ride a motorcycle while swinging a katana?”
His lips twist in a smirk. “If you want, when we go home.” 
You find the thought buoys you with hope. “Will we ever get to go home?”
“Unless you really want to move to Argentina,” he needles you.
“Argentina does sound pretty bitchin’...” you tease him. 
He narrows his eyes at you; after all this time, it still gives you a thrill. “Are you sure your fascination with Argentina doesn’t stem from the good looking men who seem to live there?”
You make a raspberry at the thought. He still remembers Javi, it seems. You do too, of course, but all that feels like a distant dream in your memory. “Darling, I have all the Tall, Dark, and Handsome I can handle right here.” You place the rubber ducky on top of his head as though bestowing a crown, and he rolls his eyes before snatching you to him, water splashing all across the floor again. 
“Who’s going–to clean–that up?” you tease between kisses and giggling, suddenly drunk on his arms around you, his strong hand running down your side to squeeze your behind before long fingers quest further towards your aching center. 
“Baby, that is the least of your worries right now.”    
“I can’t!” you whine in protest as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You absolutely give yourself away with your joyful laughter that turns into a moan.
“We’ll see, cheeky girl.”  
This insatiable man really might prove the death of you. 
----
Pretty sure the rubber ducky is all on @sweetwolfcupcake …😂😘😘😘
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xoxoavenger ¡ 1 month ago
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The 1
pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader
summary: If one thing had been different, would everything be different today?
word count: 2368
warnings: dementia talk (idk if that's a warning but it's there), based on 'the 1' by taylor swift
12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist
It's been fifteen years. She knows she's not old, that at thirty-five she still has plenty of life left. She's changed a lot in those fifteen years; leaving Beacon Hills, pursing her passions, coming back after breaking off her last engagement to a man named Caden, who was nice but wasn't him. And then, after that, she began seeing him everywhere. She knew he was still in Beacon Hills, but she also knew that every time she had to double take it wasn't him. She tried to stop herself, but every time, she always had to check. Just incase. Even now, when she was in the mall, she was trying not to look at anyone and make her mind play tricks on her.
Their relationship plays out in her head constantly. Sometimes, she thinks of what may have been if he hadn't broken up with her. How different her life would be.
She wishes she could have lived with the love of her life, but that's not the way it worked out. Stiles had made it clear that he didn't want to see her again, and she still loved him enough to obey his wishes.
"Y/N?" She turns at someone's voice, and then realizes that it's Scott. His head is shaved, and his arms have more tattoos, but it's unmistakably him.
"Scott!" She pulls him into a hug, because once upon a time she was apart of their pack. She had missed the alpha, missed the way he had cared for her. She missed the whole pack; the unfortunate thing about moving to escape one person was that you miss all the people you left behind.
"I haven't seen you in forever! You look great!" He tells her as he pulls back. Y/N smiles, heart filling as nostalgia bleeds through her.
"Thanks," She said softly, feeling lighter somehow. "Do you still talk to everyone else? I'd love to have a little reunion." She was slightly nervous at asking, but Scott nods enthusastically.
"Yes! That would be great! We haven't seen you in so long." He pauses, and Y/N knows what he's going to say before he says it. "I know Stiles would love to catch up." She tries to keep the sour look off her face.
"How is he doing?" She asks. She wants to wish that he's single, but she also wants him to be happy. It's a tightrope she walks constantly.
"Good." Scott says simply, and after they exchange new numbers and set up a good day, they say goodbye. She can't help but think about the last time she saw Stiles as she walks to her car.
"I love you so much it scares me." He says it softly, but he's crying. Y/N's heart is racing, because something is clearly wrong.
"I love you too." She says, grabbing his hand. He lets her, but it's clear that this isn't going to end the way she wants it to.
"I know I don't talk about my mom a lot," This throws her off, because she had thought he was breaking up with her. "But she had frontotemporal dementia." Y/N waiting to see where this goes, because she already knew this.
"Stiles," She starts, wiping his face.
"Y/N," He shakes his head, effectively moving her hand from his face. "It's hereditary." She's still confused, because she knew this, too. What was Stiles getting at?
"I'm confused." Y/N whispers, wishing she could pause everything. She doesn't want to move forward, ever, because something inside her knows everything is about to change.
"I can't put you through that." He says, turning away, and she can't help her jaw dropping at this.
"No." She says, because she can't let this happen. He is going to break up with her.
"I've seen what it did to my dad, and I can't let that happen to you. I can't take care of you like that." He says, and she is speechless. She couldn't talk , the emotion in her throat blocking even her air to breathe and clearing all words from her vocabulary. "I know it'll hurt now, but it's the only choice I can see."
Y/N can't handle this, so she gets up and leaves. She doesn't even look back, just listens to Stiles crying until the door shuts.
~
She can't think about what will happen tonight at dinner as she gets ready. She tries to keep it away as Scott pulls up - he had offered to drive, and she knew she was probably going to drink a few more than she should.
"How often do you guys do this?" Y/N asks after they greet each other.
"Whenever Lydia comes back from the city. Tonight everyone will be there, but sometimes Jackson is in London, or Malia is traveling." She nods, and they both wait a minute before she speaks up.
"I need you to prepare me." She hadn't wanted to ask, but she knew she couldn't face it. "I need to know about Stiles."
"What about him?" Scott asks, and Y/N can't look at him.
"Girlfriend?" She asks it without skipping a beat. "Wife? Kids?" She feels like she wants to throw up.
"He had a girlfriend, but they're broken up now." He answers for her. "No kids. I don't think he wants any. Biological - that is." She's grateful he's answering, and she nods, still looking out the window.
"He still work for the FBI?" Y/N asks, finally looking over. They're almost to the restaurant, and Scott waits until they pull into a parking spot. He turns the car off, then turns to her. 
"He isn't showing any signs of dementia." He says, and Y/N feels like she can't breathe. She feels like she's suddenly too light.
"Okay," She whispers, nodding.
She could have been the one. He broke up with her for no reason.
"Does he still think he'll get it?" She asks, and Scott sighs.
"I think it never leaves his mind. But he doesn't seem so obsessed over it. As time goes on and he hasn't shown any signs, he's gotten less scared." He gets out of the car, walking around to open her door. She gets out, turning to see Stiles, Malia, Lydia, Liam, Mason, Derek, Kira, and Jackson all standing near the entrance. It seems Scott and Y/N are the last ones to show up.
"The Nogitsune really fucked him up." Y/N says, her gaze fixed on him. Stiles broke up with her three years after the Nogitsune had tried to take over and kill Stiles, but she knew life could have been different if it had never happened. If the monster had never put the ideas and visions into Stiles' head in the first place.
"Yeah." Scott agrees simply, and she takes a deep breath before walking over there.
Stiles' eyes meet hers, and she can't breathe. It feels like they're the only two in the entire world. She doesn't know how she continues walking, but somehow she makes it over to where the group is, eyes finally leaving Stiles' when Lydia tackles her in a hug.
"God, it's been forever! How dare you up and leave us!" She cries out, and Y/N laughs as she puts her arms around her friend. It feels good to be back with them, if a little weird because she hasn't been back in a decade and a half.
"I'm back, I promise." Y/N says, going through the hugs with everyone. When she finally gets to Stiles, she feels like she can't speak. She can barely breathe.
He's got a stubble now, his hair shorter than it was last time she saw him. Her eyes trail over every freckle, still there. She traced them all, once upon a time. She still has them memorized, as if they were on her own face. His nose is crooked; he must've broken it while on a case. He somehow feels taller, and he's definitely filled out. He's no longer the fragile teenager she met twenty-one years ago.
"Hi," She whispers finally. She knows everyone is watching, but they may as well be on the top of a mountain.
"Y/N," He says softly, and then he pulls her into his arms.
It feels like home. It's safe, and comfortable, and she never wants to leave it. She takes a deep breath, and realizes he either never changed his cologne or he specifically wore the same one that he would wear on their dates.
They pull apart, and for a moment Y/N thinks they may kiss. But he turns away, and she does too, not able to look at everyone's faces.
"Let's eat!" Liam cheers, and everyone begins to file inside. Somehow, Y/N and Stiles end up bumping into each other as they both try to go in the door last.
"You first." Stiles tells her, stepping back, she feels her cheeks heat as she walks through the doors and follows the rest of the group to a table that's been reserved due to the reservation Lydia put in.
It's way more awkward than Y/N thought it would be when everyone starts to sit down. Because Y/N and Stiles were at the end, they end up sitting next to each other at the end of the table. Y/N's heart races as she sits, looking at her menu to distract her from the fact that Stiles is right next to her for the first time in years.
It's just one dinner.
But then everyone decides that dinner wasn't enough to catch up, and suddenly they're out getting drinks. They all take a shot, courtesy of Lydia who insisted everyone needed one to get going. Y/N's sipping her lemon drop as everyone stands around a tall table, too old and not drunk enough to dance where a bunch of college kids are grinding. Y/N's sure that at least half of them are underage, but she remembers sneaking into bars using her fake or making friends with the bouncers to get into bars before she turned 21.
"What brought you back?" Stiles asks. He's next to Y/N once more, drinking a beer. She can barely bring herself to look at him.
"I was engaged." She blurts. She hadn't talked about this during dinner, despite the fact that Lydia, Malia, Kira and Scott all knew that she was engaged. She guessed that they got the hint that it ended from the lack of ring on her finger.
"Oh," Stiles isn't quite sure what to say to that.
"It ended." She tells him, trying to talk over the music. "He wasn't the one." She takes a sip of her drink to stop herself from saying that she's knows Stiles was the one. Clearly he wasn't, but nothing could stop her from thinking it. She's glad she wasn't drunk enough to lose her filter.
"I see." Stiles takes a sip of his beer, and the two listen to the music for a moment. "I'm sorry." He says out of nowhere. Y/N almost chokes on the lemon drop, but manages to swallow it before she can make a fool of herself.
"For what?" She asks, but they both know that she knows exactly what Stiles is apologizing for.
"When I broke up with you, I honestly thought that I was doing the best possible thing. I thought that it was just puppy love, that I could get over this." The conversation Stiles has started is so out of place in the loud bar, but Y/N hangs on his every word. "But I can't. I can't get over it. I've tried to, but there's no point. Because I don't love anyone the way I love you."
"Stiles," She says it so quietly it slips under the music, but she moves closer anyway.
"I've been to therapy. And I can't tell them everything, about the Nogitsune and other supernatural happenings, but I told them about the dementia scare. And I know that what I did to you was unforgivable. But I want you to know that I thought I was protecting you. I really thought that I was going to end up like my mom, and that I'd leave you alone and upset, and I couldn't do that to you. Just the thought of it," It sounds like he has no idea what to say now, and all Y/N can do is blink.
"It was fifteen years ago." Y/N says, but it might as well have been yesterday with the way her heart still bleeds.
"I'm still in love with you." It's like the world goes silent. She knows the music is still playing, but everyone at their table has turned. Y/N is staring at him, wide-eyed, and she has no idea what to say. "I know it was a decade and a half ago. I know that I broke your heart. But I have spent that whole time thinking about the mistake I made. And every single day, I wish I could take it back. Thinking about how much time we lost breaks my heart, and I swear I spend half my days convincing myself that you're still better off without me."
"Stiles," There's tears in her eyes from the emotions that she buried all that that time ago coming back up.
"Not a day goes by when I'm not thinking about what our life could have been. But I was too afraid to see it through, and I will regret that until the day I die."
Y/N thinks she may pass out.
She's been waiting for this apology for years. She never thought the day would come, and now she feels like her knees are week. She's shaking, and it feels like a magnet is pulling her towards him.
She grabs his shirt and pulls his lips to his. There's no hesitation on his end, he's immediately kissing her as if he has done it every day for the past fifteen years. She knew Stiles was the one.
Everyone around them is cheering, and their lips smile against each other.
"I love you too." She whispers as she pulls apart, flattening her hands against his chest. His hands are on her hips, and she leans into him. He just smiles wider and leans in to attach their lips again. 
//
tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @mcueveryday
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kitchenisking ¡ 4 months ago
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Day 2
Derek Hale doesn't speak by Bashfyl - (Rating: T, Words: 5,091, sterek)
What if after Paige died Talia believed Peters words over Derek's? What if sixteen year old Derek lost his mate the night he found him, the night of the Hale fire. What if the universe decided there shouldn't be a Derek Hale who didn't have his own Stiles Stilinski?
Wolf Cub by moodwriter - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6,946, sterek)
A strange wolf is not supposed to touch another pack’s cub and that’s why, on a rescue mission, it’s Stiles’ job to take care of the wolf cub who’s curious about everything and everyone. Stiles is not used to werewolf children, and the pack is not used to Stiles taking care of a child. Their Alpha gets very confused about this, too.
Devoured by Hedwig221b - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5,298, sterek)
Breathless, Stiles shifted his gaze up and went red from the knowing smirk on the deific face. The man’s red eyes sparkled in the moonlight, glowing like two fires on the tips of the candles. One of his thick eyebrows was lifted in amusement.
He was the most beautiful being Stiles had ever seen. As was probably expected, considering he was the god of sexual desire.
An Alpha's Misunderstandings by Dexterous_Sinistrous - (Rating: Mature, Words: 48,520, sterek)
And Derek was there, as if it was a simple twist of fate.
There were so many ways Stiles wanted to forgive Derek, but then he came to his senses.
He wouldn’t risk Charlotte’s safety for that hope–never again. ~*~ Stiles and Derek are parted by war and misunderstandings, only to find each other again.
today by EvanesDust - (Rating: G, Words: 2,585, sterek)
[excerpt] Going to the farm had been fun, but the best part wasn't the maze or climbing the slide. Not even choosing the pumpkins. It was meeting Derek.
the hale pack shares three braincells by graveltotempo - (Rating: G, Words: 4,322, sterek)
Five times a member of the Hale Pack (2.0) did not believe Stiles and Derek were in a relationship, and one time someone finally clued them in.
OR: the one where Lydia and Boyd (and Cora) are smarter than everybody else.
Crazy Scary Beautiful by Elpie (Horribibble) - (Rating: T, Words: 1,644, sterek)
The guy just came in with a duffle bag full of knives and plopped them down on the counter, easy as you please. He’s standing there with a perfectly cheerful look on his face, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. 
-
In which Stiles Stilinski is probably a serial killer, but Derek falls in love anyway.
Brewin' Up Love by sugareey, wanderingeyre - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 30,871, sterek)
The Pack runs Moon Tower Fermentarium, a popular brewery in Beacon Hills, and they are a refuge for supernaturals that need it. Stiles is happy to be Scott's Emissary and loves being the head brewer. His life is great. If only he could get over his feelings for Derek.
Derek finally feels like the Pack is settled and he is proud of what they've built. He doesn't need anything else. He has Stiles in his life as his friend and that's more than he deserves. If he wishes for more in the dark of night, that is between him and the moon.
OR The one where the Pack owns a brewery and Stiles is on fire with the puns. Also, there is angst.
If Only In My Dream by Karla_Kattz - (Rating: G, Words: 5,890, sterek)
Just to be with Stiles once! Maybe that's enough to erase that longing. "That can be arranged," a bright voice says behind him. Derek jumps from the bed, immediately beta-shifting and snarling at the intruder. The woman who is standing - no wait, she's floating, she's truly floating two inches above the floor - in the doorframe looks completely unfazed. In fact, she's even smiling. "Who are you? How did you get in here?" Derek grits out through his fangs, adding an unspoken 'and why didn't I notice you'? "Calm down, Wolf. I won’t harm you or your mate." Only then Derek notices the little glimmer that's surrounding her, the flawless skin she has, and how her blonde hair is softly swaying as if she was underwater. In combination with the floating- "You're a fairy," he says and wills his body to shift back. "Personally, I prefer the term 'fae', Alpha Hale, but you're not wrong," the creature chirps happily. "And I shall grant your wish."
———
An imagination spell allows Derek to daydream about Stiles and him, but things take an unexpected turn.
i am yours, just like you are mine. by buckysharons - (Rating: Mature, Words: 761, sterek)
derek’s (official) first time.
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