espirituabsurdo

[denwritesandcries]

Dating Tara having a scary dog HCs

Pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You didn’t expect your girlfriend to act like that around your dog, but it's still pretty funny though.

Word count: 1,4k.

Content: cursing, fluff, tara being dramatic and a caos gremlin, author never had a dog, mentions of scream V.

Note: Still don't think I'm really good at hcs but I had fun writing these!

English is not my first language.

- Tara could admit that she didn’t know much about you when you first started to go out, which probably would have caused Sam to have a meltdown if she’d found out about it, but, well, making impulsive decisions was her specialty.

- One of the things Tara had come to learn about you — details, mere details — was that you had a dog, after hearing you mention it once or twice.

- Tara, who had never had a pet before, was immediately excited with the prospect of meeting and having one in her life, wondering what it would be like.

- You hadn’t shown her any pictures, and on your Instagram there were a surprising amount of different dogs for her to be sure which one was yours, so Tara tried to guess. Would it be a puppy, happy and gangly? Or even an older, relaxed and well-behaved one, a childhood dog maybe? Would make a good cuddle buddy.

(Whichever one it was, she hoped it to be a short-haired; her asthma and allergies would be very grateful.)

- What she hadn’t imagined, however, was to come across her girlfriend smiling and waving brightly, with a damn hound on a leash on what should have been a perfectly romantic and uneventful date.

“What is that?”

“Hi, baby!” you greet, oblivious to her incredulous and apprehensive tone, “That’s Cujo.”

“Cujo,” she echoed, hesitantly, “Like… the rabid, murderous dog from the movie?”

“No, not the movie, the book,” you corrected. “Don’t worry, Tar, she’s a sweetie.”

“Your Cerberus is a she?”

“It’s just a doberman, babe.”

Great.

- Tara’s definitely scared of your dog at first, but she won't admit it. She's faced crazy killers before, for God's sake! A little pet was nothing.

- You know she's scared from the start. It's honestly kind of funny how she tries to act all brave, especially since you know Cujo wouldn't hurt a fly if she could (and she could), so you do your best to make her relax.

- Trying to get her used to it at first by asking if she'd like to hold the leash on walks, even though she always refuses it, “If it decides to start running I might get dragged across town until I fall down some drain. Would you dare do that to your poor asthmatic girlfriend?”

- Trying to avoid situations where your dog is involved doesn't work for long, though, it lives with you, after all – duh, Tara, really? – and your house is the only place you two can have some privacy without Sam hovering like a hawk all the time, so she has to get over it, like, urgently.

She stops you at the door the first time she comes over:

“So, is there any more… unexpected pets I should know about?”

You shrug, “I have some sea monkeys too.”

- She’s completely dramatic about it at first, as she always is when things don’t go her way. But it’s endearing, and it’s one of the reasons you fell in love with her anyway.

- So… Tara, who has staring contests with your dog every time she comes over for the night or to just hang out, because she can’t stop squinting suspiciously every time she gets too close to the furry form you idolize so much.

- Tara, who gets upset and sullen when you’re gonna cuddle and the dog is faster, taking up your entire lap, the place she should be.

“You can just lay or rest on her, baby, I swear she won't bite.”

“No freaking way! Here, just hold me closer.”

Well, she swears that your dog would have laughed at her if she could.

- Tara, who's sure your dog has something against her and chases her around for the pure pleasure of it, no matter how much you argue about projecting, dark eyes making her jump in fright whenever they're in the same room.

- Tara, who huffs and whines when you go to sleep and the dog follows you, sprawling at your feet in the bed like she's its owner.

“Oh man, even here?”

“Tar, she's sleeping. It's a dog, it's not planning something against you.”

“She's threatening me on purpose!”

“She probably knows that you dislike her, you know, it's pretty obvious.”

“Whatever, I'm not apologizing to a dog.”

- Tara, who actually finds it pretty comfortable sleeping next to the furball, who keeps the bed less lonely and stops the heat from escaping when you get up early to make breakfast.

- Tara, who warms up and attaches quickly afterward, even if she doesn't want to admit it out of sheer stubbornness.

“Awn, I see you guys are getting along. You're petting her now! That’s so great, honey!”

“I'm not! I'm just checking to make sure she didn't bring any dirt from the park earlier.”

- Tara, who turns into an absolute menace once she and your dog bond and you honestly don't know if that's a good thing or not, but it's chaotic anyway.

- Tara, who struts around, holding on to the leash to save her life and still managing to look completely smug like a damn small gangster, laughing at those who stray from their path or get scared by the sudden barking.

“Ha, look at them! Scared of such a little pup, losers.”

“If she ever gets up she'd be literally bigger than you, Tar,” you sigh, “And you acted just like them too.”

“Liar! All lies!”

- Tara, who spends her money on thousands of clothes and accessories that she thinks would look good on the dog, even though your pet already has a lot. Most of them are silly costumes from movies she likes, and one day you come home to find your dog on the couch wearing a cheap Michael Myers costume and you can barely breathe from laughing when she comes running up to greet you by the door.

- You definitely notice your dog wearing a big colorful bow that conveniently matches your girlfriend’s shirt and teases her shamelessly. All you get is a ‘she looks like a princess, leave her be!’

- She calls the dog by cute pet names and talks in a baby voice – which she denies to death – when she thinks no one is listening. Sometimes you even get confused about who the ‘hi baby!’ is for when she walks through the room.

- You're a little jealous when she prefers to snuggle with your dog instead of you, but you end up finding it so adorable that the problem is solved by cuddling them both together and that way everyone’s happy and content.

- Sam almost has a heart attack the first time she sees Tara with the dog, as do Chad and Ethan; Mindy’s a little hesitant and Anika’s the only one genuinely excited and happy about everything, wanting to pet it as soon as she sees her lying on the carpet.

- With that, Tara also defends your dog from anyone who dares to open their mouth and say something bad about her, whether they're your friends or the Karens you meet when you're out together (you have to stop her from throwing hands with them occasionally).

- Teaches the dog to purposely bark to scare Ethan every time he says something stupid and inappropriate and you're left wondering when the hell she had time to do that without you knowing, completely ignoring your claims of 'being a bad influence.'

- Protects the dog from absolutely any of your scolding, no matter what the reason, dramatically covering its ears and looking personally offended by your complaints. You can never stay mad for long with the sight of your girlfriend trying to cover up a dog who's clearly more intimidating than her and literal puppy eyes staring at you with intensity, letting go even if your couch or plants have been destroyed.

- You end up with a happy little family before you finish college without even realizing it, which ends up being the best thing that ever happened to you.

- Tara's favorite part of all of this is the slow and warm mornings when you two don't have to be anywhere and can sleep in, feeling your arm around her waist and your dog curled up between you – under the covers too because it got cold during the night – when she can sigh contentedly and enjoy what you have without any more fears about the future.

“You know, remembering how scared you were of Cujo in the beginning, I never would have expected it to end up like this.”

“That name still doesn't fit,” she says stubbornly, “And I’ve never been scared of our dog, I just wasn’t a pet person.”

“Our dog?”

“Oh, shut it.”

She would never admit it anyway.

- Tara could admit, though, that you were right: your dog really is a sweetie.

[rwrbficrecs]

WIP Wednesday

all the devils are here by greenandmoss (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This is Alex and Henry pitted against each other like you've never seen it before! I love the fantasy world-building in this fic and the way the mechanics of this world and who our favorite people are within it affects their personalities and actions!

in my veins by @gayhoediaz (book-verse)

@na-dineee: The age gaps are getting bolder – and when it comes to Firstprince, I am here for it. Alex is 23, and Henry is 30 years older. Henry is a refined, sophisticated author living in New York, and Alex is the son of his friend Oscar, who’s moved in with Henry to recover from an addiction problem. And the pining is UNREAL!! If this is your cup of tea - this fic is absolutely delicious!

Not the Hero by @cha-melodius (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Stuntman Alex and director Henry have a history, which didn’t exactly end well. Now, after years, they’re back on set together... It’s an exes-to-lovers story, with the first chapter as a smutty treat, and I can feel it’s going to get wild from here. Can’t wait!!

but I can’t help how wonderful life is when you’re in the world by @everwitch-magiks (book/movie-verse)

@na-dineee: The idea is amazing: Movie Alex meets Book Henry in a canon-like AU, with that delicious age difference twist. Alex is almost 30, a cocky law student, while Henry is an early-twenties Prince Charming, totally closeted in a gilded cage. What an exciting premise—the dynamic is bound to be explosive!

check out our past WIP recs here ❤️

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Jeremy and the minorities he loves to represent and apparently was born to

This post by @freedelusionshere cracked open a pattern that was right there in front of me for a while now and I hadn't really been paying attention to:

Jeremy Allen White's career choices

I won't go over every single role he ever played but overall his taste is quite distinctive and particular, he's into the marginalized, the anti-heroes, and the minorities.

He's not afraid of having to dive deep into his dark side to play addicts, disabled, depressed, suicidal, and traumatized human beings who struggle with mental health issues and don't always win their battles or are elegant about it.

His most famous roles are Lip Gallagher and Carmy Berzatto

Both addicts, the product of a traumatic upbringing with abusive parents and absent parental figures, with older siblings who played roles in his characters' lives that they shouldn't have due to the dysfunctional family dynamic they lived in.

He also played Kerry Von Erich, who lost his battle with addiction and a part of his leg as well and whose whole family was part of the problem, no matter how much they loved him. Kerry Von Erich was a fatal victim of his toxic environment and upbringing.

More about Carmy and Kerry's parallels here:

In Cornflower (short-film) Jeremy played the big half-brother of this little girl whose mother killed herself and he was in charge of "protecting" his baby sister from the news and sending her away

He's the Boss, the chef, the champ, the protector in his own fucked up way, but not really because he plays the shadow aspects of all those characters, otherwise, he's just not interested.

Jeremy once said (for GQ magazine) that if he played the romantic lead in a rom-com it would also have to be very sad.

And now, when he steps into The Boss' shoes leather jacket he doesn't play the idol, the icon, but one of his darkest moments.

Deliver me from nowhere

The movie tells The Boss' story during a time of his life that he described himself as dark and challenging, filled with isolation and loneliness.

I read Warren Zanes' novel a few months ago when I found out that JAW had been cast as the lead and LOVED IT. He also wrote Tom Petty's bio, which I haven't read yet (but definitely will because I love Petty) and served as VP of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, back when I still gave a fuck about it.

Zanes' Deliver Me from Nowhere captures that feeling completely. No wonder JAW felt compelled to play that part.

Nebraska, Springsteen's album (1982) was his 6th studio album and followed the widely successful and critically acclaimed album: The River and it was off-beat compared to its predecessors because it contained darker and more solemn lyrics but most importantly because The Boss lived up to his nickname and fought his Record label at the time (Columbia Records) refusing to tour to promote it. As a result the album only reached number 3 in both USA and the UK.

Bruce was going through a lot and having a hard time coping with fame and struggling to balance his personal life with his career, re-defining what the concept of "success" meant for him.

The book goes over that struggle and inner turmoil, it says it got to the point where the album was recorded by a Springsteen who literally couldn't get outta bed to do it. It was recorded in his bedroom.

The author says:

"Nebraska is the recording that matters the most in Bruce Springsteen's career. But not because of the hits it contains or it's renowned or because of its generation of young people played it on repeat while they searched for themselves in bedroom mirrors. It needs a different measure. Springsteen made the record when he was the object of tremendous expectations. (...) They were waiting for Born in the USA and that's not what they got, the truth was that Springsteen was a little lost."

Again, no wonder JAW got cast for this role.

I wish nothing but the best for him and I expect nothing but the best from his performance. I'm sure that it must be terrifying for him having to sing for the first time but the way I see it only 2 outcomes can come outta that: either he rocks or he's dubbed by The Boss himself who rocks even harder, so I'm cool.

This is the beast JAW has to tame (And make it relatable, moving, and hopefully award-winning):

The album's reverb-laden vocals and mood combined with dark lyrical content have been described by music critic William Ruhlmann as "one of the most challenging albums ever released by a major star on a major record label"

Source: Wikipedia.

I'm positive he can do it and I'll be there, watching and crying as he does.

[uwudonoodle]

How to Train Your Dragon audiobook 1

Good news, it's my turn to pick the book/movie for the book club. We're doing How to Train Your Dragon. The audiobook is only 3½ hours long, it's on YouTube for free, and it's read by David Tennant! Some of the members haven't seen the movie before, so it should be a fun club meeting when we get to watch it together. I hope the book is good too. I've never read it before.

[foxcassius]

i think it is silly when people act like studio ghibli is the end all be all of animated filmmaking and writing when in fact every film will have a different combo of writers and directors and when marnie was there is a movie that cannot execute the basic tenets of "show dont tell"

[technicolorxsn]

Arthur c clarke is rly convinced birth control is the sign of modernity and progression huh?

[kindred-spirit-93]

and now for a post this blog was made for (take this as free trial of what to expect down the line. fair warning; not to scale)

If I had a nickel for every time a protagonist had to choose between a sword and a guitar, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

the first (and tbf only) two that come to mind are Manolo from the book of life and Kubo from Kubo and the two strings

quick background: manolo had to fight a giant toro (all the bulls his bullfighter family killed ever, and kubo had to defeat his grandfather the moon king in his final form. also he uses a shamisen not a guitar. but it fits the category so theres that)

and its such a beautiful and strange concept; to be presented with the choice of peace via music, or violence (so to speak) by the sword, and it works. the apology song moved me to tears the first time i heard it and kubo's words are truly beautiful and ones i wont forget.

i think its what the music relays rather than the instrument that brings about a change of heart or leads the hero to victory; their empathy and humanity. family is a prominent theme too, one of love and guidance and ocassionally a source of greivance lol.

i havent watched either films in quite a while (BoL 10 years ago oof) but both songs/ pieces speak so much truth they are able to do what the sword could never achieve. and now for a segment i like to call from where i stand, where i get to link fiction with my life and experiences to provide insight from, say it with me now, where i stand: as an aspiring psychiatrist in a part of the world where mental health is still finding its footing in the public eye and sadly among other healthcare students, its hurts to see how little we listen to each other, compounded by how simple and effective just basic human connection is in somehwat alleviating (albeit temporarily) whatever it is someone is going through. empathy my dudes. it goes a long way.

manolo appologises for the centuries of grief his family profession has inflicted on the bulls, and extends a warm hand of understanding and sincerity, while kubo uses the power of memories and love to prove to his grandfather that so long as he has his eye, an eye capable of seeing (and by extension a heart capable of loving and a soul capable of feeling), he will live and prosper. their humanity prevails and brings peace.

final word: to quote Jonathan Decker from a CT episode i cant remember lol: "Kindness won't always change someone, but it shows them you won't be changed." and i think its an important gap to mind, in the sense that the magic of music or whatever wont fix our real life probelms, like a failing relationship, but kindness and empathy and humanity are all necessary for healing and growth. and that, i believe is the message behind the trope. a good day to you all.

me, an intellectual:

[rustinged]

thinking about that post “it’s not intelligent vs unintelligent. it’s curious vs refusal to be curious” thinking about how there’s no harm in saying you didn’t understand a movie you watched, without knocking it for its country of origin and/or the year it was made. for most movies, there’s analysis out there. there are essays upon essays about all types of films out there but refusal to be curious because the fear of looking stupid and the excuse of “movies are meant to be escapism” has clouded your mind

[lhrry]

my policeman the book or the film, discuss 🎤

[falesten-iw]

Warning: Long Post No one reads long texts anymore, but despite everything I've been through with my country, my family, and recently my son, I need to get this off my chest. It's completely unbelievable to me that so many people still don't understand the background of the genocide in Palestine. What kind of journalists or influencers do we have today? Are they too afraid to report and remind their audiences about the real story behind what's happening now? No, it's not just one year of suffering! It's outrageous how the media consistently ignores what Palestinians have been enduring for decades. Have they, or you, even bothered to look at the statistics of how many Palestinians have been killed by Israel since 1948? How many children have been killed? Who holds the responsibility for what's happening now? I often wonder: what if the situation Palestinians face was applied somewhere else? For example, what if, after World War II, the West had decided that all Jews should have a state in the USA—let’s say Chicago—how would the people of Chicago have reacted? Imagine the people there being driven off the land their families had worked for generations, stripped of their rights, and harassed or persecuted if they resisted. Do international laws simply not apply when ### is involved? Do you know that people in Gaza are killed simply for fun? Yes, for fun! Israeli soldiers have been known to shoot women, children, and even animals on the spot, then walk away. Did you feel the wind when those shots were fired? Or was it too far away for you? Do you understand what death means? Good. Do you know why there are so many Palestinians living in different countries, or maybe even right next door to you, even though they smell like hummus, garlic, za'atar, and other traditional foods? Do you know why your neighbors are Palestinian and not Israeli? It's because we've been forced to flee since 1948. Our cities were erased then, and more are still being erased—through violence, through apartheid laws, through genocide, through different methods. Ilan Pappe, an Israeli historian, wrote a book about hundreds of Palestinian cities that were erased to create the Israel you know today. This isn't a war that started a few days ago or even a year ago—this has been going on since at least 1948. More than 45,000 have been killed in Gaza just in the past year alone. 17 000 of them are children, and 13 000 are women. Do you even know what that means? How it feels to lose your children or part of your family? Are you going to tell us how it feels? Do you have no empathy? Is your heart so closed that you can't see the pain around you? Are you really so blind to the suffering of others? How can you ignore these realities? Do you know that the Israeli military has cut off all electricity and completely halted the import of food, water, fuel, and other necessities? There are no hospitals and no medicines left, and 85% of people in Gaza are living in makeshift tents. Yes, tents—but not like the ones you see in movies. These are handmade from plastic scraps. Do you know that my family is suffering from all of this, and I will lose them in this cold weather if you don't act now? Please help us and donate now!

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe

@sar-soor @rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms

@sawasawako @feluka @appsa @anneemay @commissions4aid-international

@wellwaterhysteria @mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @7bitter @tortiefrancis

@watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @determinate-negation

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @elbiotipo

@el-shab-hussein @heritageposts @communistkenobi @deepspaceboytoy @molsno

@mesetacadre @forevergulag @gazafunds @northgazaupdates2 @freepalestinneee

@komsomolka @muppet-sex @nabulsi @fading-event-608 @buttercuparry

@prierepaiienne @interact-if @unified-multiversal-theory @inkstay

@socialjusticekitten-blog @socialgoodmoms @nowthisnews @socialgoofy @fightforhumanity-rpg-blog

@fightforhumanity-rp @queerandpresentdanger @90-ghost @timogsilangan @punkitt-is-here

@fox-guardian @hiveswap @valtsv @helppeople @ibtisams

@annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @vakarians-babe @plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @tamamita

@apollos-boyfriend @akajustmerry @marnosc @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides

@belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @brutaliakent @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish

@4ft10tvlandfangirl @communistchilchuck @fairuz @sarazucker @fairuzfan

@a-nautilus-as-pixel-art @13eyond13 @stil-lindigo @baby-indie-blog

@marnota @vivisection-gf @brutaliakhoa @the-bastard-king @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness

@neptunerings @malcriada @turian @girlinafairytale @abnormalicacid

@sylvianritual @mothblossoms @autisticmudkip @lesbianmaxevans

@nabulsi27 @palestinegenocide @orblesbian @palebluebutler @pallasisme

@fallahifag-deactivated20240722 @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @morallyrainyday

@jonpertwee @flipton @bell-bones @ragingbullmode @envytherose

@rodent178 @tangledinourstrings @kraigerzz-blog @frogbrainedfool @the-ending-of-dramamine

@mossdeep @redsavesquare @uninvited-eon @glenbot @ultimateumbreon33

@disastersim @airsigh @cowboy-queer @lapastelr0sa @sharingresourcesforpalestine

@rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world @kropotkindersurprise @cruzwalters @la7ma-mafrooma @rosyish

@bookskittychad @streakoflavender @gabajoofs @miraclemaya @devilofthepit

@gay-yosuke @cometcrystal @corvidkusnos @nb-marceline @cicadaland

@manletwizard @2blushie @antiauteur @acnologia-is-best-dragon @bitchmael

@penelopiaad @hashiramashonkers @laughtracklesbian @legallymean @b0nkcreat

@crapscicle @uwu-pinata @syntheticspades @momxijinping @longlivepalestina

@saberboi-1 @martinmynster @nako-funky @trans-leek-cookie @vaticinatrix

@moomoobug @narwa @twilightobservationtower @estrellasrojas @knxfesck

@lakeeffectbitch @fatbitchneedsfoodbadly @no-thats-absurd @humanmorph

@sandiwchirlinreal @tcda @misspiggyforvogueitalia @gamb0fficial @vincentspork

@gemstonedraws @frankendykes-monster @mizoguchi @kos-mos @ryoki-ph

@blackwoolncrown @nightwussy @freehologramreview @melancholy-hummingborb

@sister-lucifer @nonbinarymerbabe @raventhecoolestpersonever @ebenrosetaylor

@inkbomber @collectoroflovelythings @k00ldino @sundung @extrabitterbrain

@names-hard @killaltrock @thatdarngreenpixie-blog @angelsarecomputers

@secretgoths @cauli-flawa @faraliniste @adrowninggrip @thesavagesnakeplant

@g-l-a-s-s-h-e-a-r-t-s-s @illuminated-runas @silverstone-gp @saintverse

@emathyst9 @trasno-personal @turtles-on-turts @dendrosystem

@readingsquotes @bellybuttonblue2 @bees-fart-too @andiv3r-reblogging @sillyseer

@cloudedcari @tachycardial @evileyeamulet @pompompotato @shamemp3

@jihaad @italofobia @stealthjet @pinnyy @sivavakkiyar

@chronicowboy @bi-worm @ydic74the @amorosebeing @golvio

@dailyquests

[not-neverland06]

you're not her

The 'Worst' Logan x fem!mutant!reader

a/n: really wanted to write for the worst logan so I found a streaming site so I could finally watch the new Deadpool movie (yay pirating) (this is totally hypothetical and a joke to the feds lurking) I was going to just read the wiki plot but I don’t think that was going to cut it Again, using the same superhero name/powers. It’s not an OC I swear, it just makes sense in comic book movies to have some alternate name and I’m not creative enough to come up with multiple different supe names. Summary: You hate him, you really fucking hate him at first. He’s cruel and constantly reminds you that you’ll never be the hero he knew. You’re not her and he’s made that abundantly clear. But what are you supposed to do when he’s suddenly your new roommate and you have no choice but to wake up to his face every day? I feel sad because I don’t think I did the angst justice with this one. But if I keep staring at it trying to fix it, then I’m never going to post it. (This is a long one guys) Angst with a happy ending (because I’m a little bitch) Makeout scenes and smut towards the very end 18+ MDNI

You don’t know how you got here, but you know you’re mad at whoever dragged you into this shit. You don’t think it would be wild to assume it was Wade’s fault. Usually, when something goes wrong in your life it’s on him. 

What you do know; you look like shit. Wade and Wolverine are both standing over you in their awesome ass uniforms and you’re still in your fucking pajamas. How are you supposed to be badass and save the world in pants that have Spiderman’s face plastered all over them?

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Wade,” you growl at him. 

He places his hand daintily on his chest and waves you off, “Save that for the bedroom, pookie.”

You grit your teeth and glare up at him, Wolverine gives him a similarly disgusted look. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you grumble under your breath. You get to your feet and brush yourself off, finally looking around and taking in wherever the fuck he’s dragged you. “Where are we?”

“The void,” Wade responds, voice ridiculously dramatic. You look around and throw your hands up in defeat. 

“What the fuck, Wade? Why did you drag me with you into this?” You look over at the Wolverine beside him. He hasn’t stopped glaring at you both and his claws are out, clearly ready to just eviscerate you. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Okay, wow, language, Flux. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Eat me-”

You’re cut off by the knock-off Wolverine standing a few feet behind you both. “Flux?” He demands, voice so low you almost can’t hear him. Both you and Wade’s heads whip around to face him. Thus far he’s been relatively silent, you nearly started to wonder if he was mute. 

“It’s her X-Man name,” Wade tells him, gushing like it’s some big deal. “Impressive, huh?” You don’t bother correcting him that it was your X-Men name. Can’t exactly call yourself that if they booted you off the team for being a crappy superhero. 

Logan snorts and shakes his head. He stalks towards you and you nearly fall over in your attempt to scramble back from him. “You,” he demands, claws pointed at you threateningly. “You’re Flux?”

Wade hisses, watching as Logan swipes out at you. “Alright, peanut, let’s put the claws away and take a deep grounding breath.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps at Wade. He turns to glare at him and you take the opportunity to scramble behind your friend for protection. At least if he gets stabbed, he’ll heal. “You,” he scoffs and it trails off into a laugh. There’s no humor behind it, he's just a dick. “You are a fucking joke compared to my Flux.”

The ground underneath you rattles, pebbles bouncing off the cracked desert and ricocheting off their boots. Wade quickly moves away from you, shoving you forward so he’s not in the line of fire. “Yeah, well you’re just an alcoholic fuck who could never hold a candle to my Logan.” 

You can feel energy brewing at the tips of your fingers, waves, and waves of hate building up within you. The man across from you feels the shift, the static suddenly permeating the air around you both. You let your power build and build…

The pebbles drop back to the ground and you stumble back from Logan, nose bleeding from overextending yourself. “Shit,” you mutter, wiping at your face with the back of your hand and shaking your head. 

Logan laughs again, it echoes through the stormy sky and you wish you had any control over your powers so you could just send him flying. Or, better yet, turn his bones into liquid and flip him inside out. “Oh,” he lets out a long exhale, glaring at both of you. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” The faux smile drops from his face and he raises his voice just loud enough to make you jump, “Just one big fuckin’ joke!”

You have about five seconds to dive to the side before Logan is lunging at Wade. “Wait, wait, wait we can talk about this!” Wade shouts, but it’s too late, he’s already on the ground getting his head caved in. 

You let out a rough sigh, stumbling off to the side. You’re drained from that shitshow of powers. You barely made a few rocks levitate and you feel like you’re going to pass out. You walk away from the two men and throw yourself on the ground, trying to reorient yourself while they fight like wild animals. 

You can hear them in the background, stabbing and shooting like they’re aiming to kill. Too bad neither of them can die. It’d save you a hell of a headache.  They run past you, Logan’s got his claws buried in Wade’s gut while Wade’s desperately firing off his gun into Logan’s chest. 

Your head rolls weakly to the side and you mutter out a pathetic, “No, stop. Don’t kill each other.” As expected, neither of them listens to you. They keep fighting, showing no signs of stopping. 

There’s a moment of silence after about ten minutes of nothing but grunts and insults. You peak your head up in interest. Logan got his claws posed over Wade’s throat. You wonder if decapitation would actually kill him or if he’d somehow manage to survive that. 

Wade doesn’t seem interested in testing out the theory, “They can fix it!” Wade shouts, “They can fix your timeline. I just need your help saving mine.”

Your eyes widen and you meet Wade’s masked gaze over Logan’s shoulders. The white slits widen and he minutely shakes his head, telling you not to say anything. Like, maybe, that neither of you has any fucking clue if the TVA is capable of even fixing timelines like that. 

You know Wade is desperate when he makes that promise. It’s the only reason he would say something so stupid. It’s a blatant lie, one pulled so far out of Wade’s ass you’re genuinely surprised that Logan can’t smell the bullshit. Whatever happened in his universe must have been horrible for him to ever believe anything that comes out of any Deadpool’s mouth. 

It’s a long moment before Logan finally pulls his claws out of Wade. Your friend slumps forward in relief as Logan stalks away from him. You glare at Wade from where you are on the ground, “That was fucking stupid,” you snipe at him. He gets to his feet, walks over to you, and forcefully yanks you to your feet. 

“Not a goddamn word,” he warns, but you aren’t exactly threatened by him when he's got three holes in his head from Logan’s claws. Still, you hold your hands up and acquiesce, following after him as he chases down Logan. 

Your mind is still fuzzy when you are captured by Cassandra. You're recovering from overextending yourself, eyes blurring and limbs going limp like jello when her army of henchmen circle you all. 

You finally feel yourself starting to come back to your body when you wake up tied to Johnny. “And,” Wade draws the word out, waiting until you lift your head to finish, “there she is! Happy you could join us, princess. Mind turning these ropes into dust for me?”

You groan and let your head slump onto Johnny’s shoulder. He smirks and glances down at you. “Oh fuck off, both of you. I can’t do shit right now and you know it, Wade, I’m drained.” 

Logan is glaring at you, but there’s less hate in his glare and more confusion now. “Can you do anything?”

You narrow your eyes at him, lips screwed up while you try to decide if he’s being an asshole or genuine. “Hard of hearing or something old man? I’m drained,” you reiterate, your tone a little too bitchy. 

Logan narrows his eyes, grunting something foul under his breath. Wade interferes before you can piss each other off anymore. “She had an accident, her brain’s a little broken now. But it’s fine! Whose isn’t?”

You huff and throw yourself back against the cage you’re all being transported in. You feel eyes on the side of your head and slowly look over to see Johnny grinning at you. “Hey, you know I’ve met one of your variants-”

“Don’t give a fuck,” you interrupt. You hear Wade snicker under his mask, giving you an encouraging thumbs up even with his hands bound. You were both a little disappointed it wasn’t Captain America lurking under that cloak. But at least this guy isn’t such a prude he won’t cuss. 

For the next five minutes, you’re on the receiving end of a very enthusiastically vulgar rant about just what a cunt Cassandra Nova is. He’s still not even finished by the time you reach the gates to her lair.

Your eyes widen when you see all the people lurking around the walls. Most of them you recognize as people you’ve put away or killed in your world. But there’s something just minutely different about them than the version you faced in your timeline. Their eye color or outfit is always just slightly off. 

The familiar faces are almost a relief. But there is nothing comforting about knowing you're outnumbered two hundred to four. The cage is tipped over and you go rolling out, you grunt as Johnny’s elbow digs into your ribs. 

Before you can even attempt to shove him off, the ropes are whipped off of you and you’re dragged by an invisible force across the ground. Rocks and sand scrape across your tender skin and bury themselves deep in your pores. You hiss in pain when you finally come to a stop and your body is your own again. 

A groan slips through your parted lips unbidden as you struggle onto your knees. Your pajamas are ripped practically everywhere and you feel like you might as well be naked at this point. You really wished that you at least had a chance to change before you were kidnapped to another universe. 

The woman you presume to be Cassandra Nova is currently fucking Wade’s skull with her freakish telepathy fingers. Johnny’s a pile of guts and bones on the floor and you have no fucking clue where she flung Logan to. 

You get to your feet, shaking your head and reorienting yourself. In a second she’s in front of you, head tilted to the side while she regards you curiously. “Woah,” you jump back, glaring at her outstretched hand. 

“Careful,” Wade warns her breathlessly, still clutching his head. “Flux here has a pathological fear of bald people.”

You nod, “It’s true, you can imagine how strained my relationship with your brother was.” Cassandra circles you, a devious tilt to her lips. Your eyes track her, unwilling to take your gaze off her for even a second. You feel like a rabbit, facing down a fox that’s made its way into your burrow. 

“Curious,” she mutters. “I’ve seen quite a few of you down here before. But,” she chuckles and before you can move her hand is shoving its way into your brain. You scream, there’s an agonizing burn as her fingers probe under your eyes and dig through the deepest part of your subconscious. It feels like someone’s taking a shovel and ripping up your worst traumas. “None of them have been so weak.”

Wonderful, even she wants to insult you. You can feel the way she’s plucking through your thoughts, tossing aside the ones she doesn’t like. Images of your childhood are flashing across your vision. You can no longer see the world around you, it’s like every one of your worst memories is being played on a projector. 

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue and jerks your neck around until you’re looking at something you’ve tried to forget for years. “Here it is. How easy it would be for me to simply unblock those powers of yours.” She smiles, her face appearing before you and blocking out the bloodshed. “It would make this far more entertaining for me, what do you say?”

Your teeth are clenched so tightly you’re surprised they haven’t cracked yet. It’s hard to get the words out when her fingers are still dancing through your skull. “Fuck you,” you finally spit out. She releases you suddenly, and you surge forward with a gasp, clutching at your skull desperately. 

You half expect your brains to begin leaking from your nose and eyes. But nothing happens, despite feeling incredibly violated, everything is still in its proper place. Cassandra walks past you like everything is fine and dandy in the world. “Well, as much as I would love to see those powers of yours in action again, Flux, I’m afraid Alioth must eat.”

Before you can ask what she's talking about there’s a loud rumble. Like thunder cracking through the sky and land, the ground underneath you shakes. Cracks form under your feet and the henchmen around you all start desperately racing for cover. 

You turn around, staring wide-eyed at the purple cloud of death and destruction steadily moving across the sky. A face breaks through the clouds, grinning down at you. Purple lightning hits the ground and the villain next to you explodes into nothing but dust. 

“Shit!” You shout, turning around and running to try and avoid getting zapped up next. There’s no coming back from this one. Once this monster gets you, not even god could save you. 

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you off your feet. “No time for consent, we’ve got to get the fuck outta here!” Wade shouts in your ear. Logan is standing next to some robot leg, ripping out cords until a jet on the back fires up. Wade leaps onto the boot, wrapping an arm around Logan’s legs as you’re all shot into the sky. 

You’d scream if you weren’t trying not to throw up. You hurtle through the sky at speeds that have your skin nearly ripping off your skull. The rocket on the back of the leg starts to sputter out. The flames flickering out and then back to life. It steadily begins to drop until you’re plummeting headfirst towards the ground. 

Wade wraps himself around you, tossing himself off the boot so he can brace your fall. You hear and feel nearly all of his bones break under your weight. For a moment it feels like you’re laying on warm jello as you try and catch your breath. 

“Nailed it,” he mutters weakly. You’re pretty sure he can’t breathe, a rib having pierced his lung in the fall. A shadow looms over you and you glance up to find Logan glaring down at you. You stare at him apprehensively, half expecting him to unsheathe his claws and just end you right here. 

Instead, to your surprise, he holds a hand out. You look at it with suspicion, glaring back up at him. “Fucks sake,” he mutters. He reaches down, roughly grabbing your hand and jerking you to your feet. You feel the warmth of Wade’s blood on your back and grimace. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, still not entirely trusting of him. 

He purses his lips into a thin line, backing awkwardly away from you. He just nods and starts surveying the land around you. It feels less like trying to figure out where you all landed and more like awkwardly avoiding eye contact. 

The whole interaction leaves you feeling odd. “Well, that was as awkward as two virgins on prom night,” Wade loudly announces as he jumps to his feet. You whip around and send him a dirty look but his attention has already been snagged by something else. Lately, you’ve been considering grounding up Adderall and slipping it into his breakfast, you think it might do him some good. 

What’s got to be the fugliest dog you’ve ever seen in your life bounds towards Wade. He drops to his knees, ripping off his mask and opening his arms wide to the mutt. You grimace, taking a step back when she starts licking his face. “Oh, that’s just wrong.”

Thankfully dogless, you steal Nicepool’s Honda Odyssey - much to Wade’s chagrin. Logan’s in the front seat, Wade beside him. You’re sitting in the back, rubbing your temples and trying to get rid of the raging migraine you’ve had since Cassandra finger blasted your brain. 

You’ve been zoning in and out of the conversation happening in the front seat of the car. But Logan suddenly slams on the brakes and you go hurtling forward. Without even looking at you, both their arms shoot out, blocking you from flying through the windshield. 

Your face scrunches up as you look at both their arms, it feels like being saved by an overbearing soccer mom. “Buckle up, princess,” Wade tells you. He shoves you back into your seat and you look between the two men suspiciously. 

“Did you just say if?” Logan growls, glaring at Wade. Your face drops, finally realizing what you’d missed. 

Wade lets out a weak chuckle, “Slip of the tongue?” Logan growls and the claws come out. Wade raises his hands, “Okay, let’s put a brake on the crazy train. I wasn’t lying it was just an educated,” for the first time in your friendship Wade is actually speechless. You’re shocked by the silence. Until, of course, he runs his mouth again and comes up with the lamest cop-out you’ve ever heard. “It was an educated wish that they could fix your timeline, alright?”

Logan doesn’t give much of a warning except a low growl before he shoves his claws deep into Wade’s thigh. “You motherfucker!”

“Hey!” You shout, jumping forward and ripping Logan’s claws out of Wade’s leg. “Look, we’re trying to save our whole fucking universe. Can you blame him for lying?” You regret opening your mouth pretty much immediately. 

You should have just stayed out of this, it wasn’t any of your business. And if they wanted to be two dumbasses and fucking tear each other apart then so be it. But you never should have drawn attention to yourself. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan shouts at you. It’s so startling, coming from him. You’re still associating him with the man you’d looked up to growing up. Your Wolverine was a hero. He was the reason you wanted to be an X-Man. And they look exactly the same, it’s nearly impossible for you to separate this one from the one you knew. 

But it's easier now. Because the man you’d known would never be so cruel and jaded to the world. Not like this. “Why the fuck are you even here? You’re just some watered-down knockoff of a real hero. You are nothing, you’re worth nothing. It’s a fucking joke that you’re alive and the woman I knew is buried six feet deep. If there was anything right in the world you would be in a grave somewhere crawling with maggots.”

Your eyes water without your permission. You don’t know this man. Yet, he has the face of your greatest hero and the man who you’d grown up hearing stories about. It’s like facing everything you’ve ever wanted to be and having it shout your deepest fears and insecurities back at you. He’s just confirming something you’ve known for years. You never deserved the title of being an X-Man. You never deserved the uniform or anything that came with it. 

Your breaths are coming short and fast, it feels like your lungs are constricting. You worry you won’t be able to get air in but he doesn’t care. No, he keeps going. “You follow this fucking clown around and you contribute nothing to the world. You’re never gonna save your fucking timeline. You can’t even make a few rocks float.” It’s not the words that hurt you next. It’s the way he says it. “You’re pathetic.”

He spits them at you. There’s venom lacing his tone like he’s seen into you and knows there’s nothing in you to offer. For the first time in a long time, you feel seen and you hate it. Because he’s looking past the sarcasm and the faux confidence you carry yourself with. 

He sees the empty husk of a woman you truly are and he’s forcing you to face it with him. It causes you physical pain, to know that everything you’ve ever feared about yourself is true. You don’t have anything to say to him, you can’t. 

Your lips tremble and you feel so fucking small. You can hear your parent's voices in your head, screaming at you and wishing you were never born. They’d rather have a stillborn than a fucked up mutant for a daughter. You see the way even other kids at the school would hide from you. You were made wrong, even as a mutant you were never truly accepted. 

Logan’s face drops ever so slightly at the prolonged silence in the car. Even Wade isn’t speaking, he’s just staring at you both. “I,” he starts, but Wade cuts him off. 

“I’m gonna hurt you now.” Wade’s never been one to let people run over you, even when you might just let yourself fall into the background. You shouldn’t be surprised when he draws a knife and stabs it into Logan’s throat. 

But the arterial spray that follows catches you off guard and suddenly your tears are dried. Instead, you’re throwing open the car door and diving out before one of them crushes you. You make it out of the car just in time, Logan having thrown Wade right where you had been sitting. 

Music starts up in the car as a result of their fighting. Divorced dad rock and the sounds of their, borderline, sexual grunting are your soundtrack for the rest of the night. You curl up at the base of a tree, waiting for them to be done with each other. 

Logan’s words continue to echo through your head. And the longer you linger on what he said the angrier you get. Not necessarily at him, but at yourself. You’ve let yourself linger in self-pity and wallow in regret for so long. 

You look in the mirror and you no longer recognize yourself. He’s right, as much as you hate to admit it, you’re a fucking joke. You toss your head back, slamming it against the trunk of the tree hard enough for it to hurt. 

There’s this manic, cloying feeling tugging at your chest. It’s like someone’s sitting on your ribs, crushing you until you can’t breathe anymore. You keep throwing your head back, letting the pain distract you until you feel warm blood leaking down the back of your scalp. 

“Shit,” you hiss, hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull. You wince when you feel the split in your skin. The blood leaks over the tips of your fingers, running through the cracks of your palm. 

You force yourself to relax, to move your head away from the tree. As you go to stand up, possibly to get Wade and Logan to quit their fighting, you notice something odd. The air around you is still, you can no longer hear them grunting or groaning as they rock the Honda. 

Leaves are suspended in the air. They’re not trembling from the breeze, they’re completely frozen. You take a step forward and gasp when you hit something solid. The air in front of you has solidified somehow. 

The realization dawns on you slowly but surely. This is you, you’ve done this. Manipulated everything around you on an atomic level. You’ve turned something you shouldn’t be able to feel into something you can touch. Frozen the world around you. Whatever Cassandra had done inside your head, it had knocked something loose. 

You haven’t had this wide a range of control for years. Any attempt to do something like this has been met with nosebleeds and long periods of blacking out. Elation fills you, the hurt from earlier is nearly gone. 

You glance through the wall of air and try to see if you can still see the Odyssey. To your horror, it’s gone. You wave your hands and the air returns to normal. The leaves drift back to the forest floor and you run back to where you’d left the two men. 

There are tire tracks dug deep into the mud. You know Wade wouldn’t willingly leave you behind, not here. You don’t know if Logan’s just kidnapped him or if someone else has. Whoever was driving was clearly in a rush to get out of here. 

You must have missed it all while you were having your meltdown. “Fuck,” you shout, your voice echoing into the branches above. You take in a deep breath and start walking. Hopefully, you can catch up to them before whoever has them does serious damage. 

You make it to a weird cave/hideout area. The Odyssey is parked outside and when you peek through the broken windows you find the interior completely destroyed. There’s blood soaking through every surface, anything and everything has been smashed and bent the wrong way. 

You don’t even know if this is from Wade and Logan or whoever had snatched them. Shaking your head you back up and slink towards the entrance of the den. You can hear shouting inside, it sounds like Wade, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. 

You haven’t seen action for a long time. At least not any that you could actually contribute to. It feels a bit like riding a bike. You’d practiced on your way here, making things around you float or eradicating a few trees into nothing but dust in the wind. But this is different. 

Your friend (and Logan) are inside, possibly being tortured. Maybe even dead. Though, you seriously doubt the universe is going to be that nice to you. You let the energy build in your arms, it’s like a warm tingling feeling. It shoots down to the palms of your hands until you feel static in the air. 

You take a step inside and spot three people. Each of them is decked out in weapons. One of them turns and spots you. “Who is-” 

You don’t let him finish, throwing your hands out and slamming them all into the wall so hard the whole interior shakes. Dirt rains down from the ceilings while their faces contort in pain. You run inside, spotting Logan and Wade. 

You shoot Wade a big grin but he throws his hands up and shouts, “Read the fucking room!” Your brows furrow and he points emphatically at the people you’re holding, “Good guys!”

“Oh shit,” you release them immediately, a guilty look on your face. “I am so sorry.” Logan cackles in the back, doubled over laughing while the three people in front of you brush themselves off. 

You don’t want to be out here with him, but it’s better than being in that cave with the others. Laura walks past you, sending you an uneasy smile. You’d noticed her sitting beside Logan and decided they probably needed a few moments to themselves. 

They were finished now, though, and he had the only bottle of liquor left in the cave with him. You trudge over to him, leaves crunching under your boots. Elektra, after that horrific introduction, had given you a uniform a different Flux had left behind. 

She was long gone, killed by Cassandra years ago, but she’d conveniently been your exact size. The uniform is nearly identical to the one you have buried under your bed. Black leather with a dark purple X going across your chest and matching purple seams. You’d never wanted something ridiculously flashy. Just something that people would see and associate with the X-Men. 

Because that’s all you’d ever wanted to be; a hero. It feels like a pipe dream now. If your pajamas weren’t so destroyed you would have just stayed in them. You don’t feel like you deserve this uniform, not when the woman who’d worn it before you had actually been a hero in her timeline. 

“Don’t want company,” Logan snarks, without even looking back to see who’s coming up to him.

You take a seat on the lawn chair closest to him and snatch the bottle of whiskey from his hands. “Good,” you tilt your head back, downing as much as possible. It burns the whole way and you revel in the slight tickle in the back of your throat. 

“Alright,” Logan mutters. He gently takes the bottle back from you, giving you an aggrieved look when he sees just how much you’ve stolen. He looks back into the fire and sighs, “Look, I’m not interested in hearing about your sob story or why you’re suddenly drinking all my liquor-”

“Gambit’s liquor,” you interrupt, not bothering to look at him. “And I’m not looking to dump my sob story on your lap. I just want to sit in silence and that’s impossible because Wade hasn’t stopped running his mouth since we got here.”

He looks a little surprised by the brusque way you dismiss him, “Alright,” he mutters. He takes another swig from the bottle and you both stare silently into the fire. It’s like that for a while, you don’t bother keeping track of time. 

All you hear is the crackling of the flames. All you can feel is the way your eyes burn from staring into the fire and watching sparks pop off the logs for too long. The breeze rustles the trees, makes the leaves shake free and dance around the logs of the fire. 

He breaks the silence first, to your chagrin. “About what I said,” he clears his throat uncomfortably, still refusing to look at you, “back in the car.”

“Don’t,” you snap, voice low. “Just,” you let out a long breath and shake your head. You finally look over and meet his eyes. He does actually look sorry, but you don’t want to hear it. “Just don’t, I deserved it all right.”

“No, no you didn’t.” You open your mouth to argue but he gives you a firm look that has your jaw snapping shut. “I was wrong, I don’t know you. And if my Flux had ever heard me talking to you like that she would have melted my fucking spine.” He laughs a little and you feel your lips twitch up slightly. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look anything but angry. 

Curiosity loosens your tongue and knocks you out of the dazed stupor you’ve been in. “What was she like?” You ask, tone earnest. “Your Flux, I mean, you make her sound so amazing. I just can’t,” you trail off, but the look on his face tells you he understands your unspoken words. I just can’t see myself as a real hero. 

He groans and leans back on the log he’s resting on. He stretches his legs out in front of him, the liquor bottle placed on the forest floor. You’re surprised, you figured the thing was glued to his hand. 

“Well,” he reaches up and scratches at the scruff of his chin, a wry grin on his face. “She was always giving me shit, never let me get away with anything.” You unconsciously lean forward, drawn into the endearing way he begins to describe this other version of you. 

It’s not ridiculous to assume this variant meant something to him. He’s got a shine to his eye that you haven’t seen in the whole time you’ve been together. His gaze has been empty, closed off to anything and everything. But now, his eyes are crinkling at the corners, there’s an easy smile on his face that you can’t miss. 

“Ah, she was fucking feisty. And strong, she was so strong. She was always a better hero than I was. She lived for that shit,” he trails off and shakes his head. You can see you’re losing him and you don’t want this to end. You’re in your own little bubble right now, getting to pretend there’s a version of you out there somewhere that actually lived up to her potential. 

“Her powers,” you blurt out, desperate for something to stop him from retreating back into his mind. “Did she have, um, good control over them?”

Logan nods, eyes darting down to the bottle of whiskey before flickering back up to meet your gaze again. “Yeah, Charles trained her, she was right up there with Jean. She could have,” he stops and suddenly you feel guilty for making him talk about this. You can see the tears in the corner of his eyes, the way the whites of them go red. “She could have been great.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I didn’t mean to pry.” But you did. You were being selfish and forcing him to talk about it even though you knew it would hurt him. 

“Look, kid, she would have liked you. I’ll tell you that much,” he says reluctantly. Like the words hurt to force out. You suppose he isn’t used to being genuine with anyone. 

You shake your head and look down at your hands. “I appreciate the thought, but I doubt it.”

Logan grabs the bottle again, gulping it down like it's water. His words have a slight slur to them as he speaks again. “I think I would know, bub. ‘Sides, you made it into the X-Men, tells me what I need to know.”

You scoff and fix him with a sardonic look, he raises his brows in question and you roll your eyes. “They’ll take fucking anybody. And I still wasn’t good enough for them.”

Logan shakes his head and frowns. “If what I saw in there,” he points back to the den and you feel your cheeks warm as you remember what you’d done, “is any indication, then I’m sure you were plenty good.”

You lean towards him, elbows braced on your knees. He follows suit, leaning so close you almost want to back up. The proximity flusters you slightly but you shake the feeling off. “You don’t even know me and the first real thing you said to me was that I’d be more useful as fertilizer.”

He sighs, face screwing up at your harsh words. He runs a hand over his cheeks and groans, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You lean back in your chair and idly twirl your hand through the air. The leaves around you lift up and flutter through the air above your head. Logan watches and you turn back to him, waiting until his eyes meet yours to speak again. “Yes, you did. And you were right. I’m fucking useless, powers or not.” The leaves drop, a few fluttering into the fire. “We’re irrelevant, Wolverine, two washed-up X-Men who never looked good in the uniform.”

There’s a twinge of hurt on his face but you can’t make yourself feel bad about it. Since he’s such a fan of brutal truth, you’re sure he can handle it. 

You watch as the leaves curl up at the corners, the fire burning them straight through the middle. You get to your feet and move past him. You’re nearly back to the den when he calls, “The suit looks right on you,” over his shoulder.

You pause at the threshold of the door. He’s already drinking again, staring into the fire and watching it burn. You take a few steps towards him, staring at his broad back. “What happened to her, your me?”

Logan looks down at his hands, his ring finger specifically. You wonder at the significance of the movement, what exactly you’d meant to him. “She married me,” he mutters, voice cold and closed off again. 

“Goodnight, Logan,” you whisper, finally walking inside the den. 

You miss the small goodnight he sends back to you, finally turning around only to watch you leave. 

There had been a very clear plan set in place. Get Juggernaut’s helmet, put it on Cassandra, and then kill that psychotic bitch. Which is why you’re so confused when you’re standing knee-deep in guts and watching Logan and Wade leap through a portal above you. 

You don’t have time to feel angry or even hurt that they left without you. Laura is grabbing your arm and you’re both running for your life, trying to escape Alioth again. You run into Cassandra’s lair ducking into one of the rooms and dragging Laura with you. 

You’re both holding your breaths and praying that he’s sated by the others still outside. After a few minutes, the cracks of thunder stop and you risk peeking your head outside. The clouds have retreated back to their usual spot in the middle of the void. 

You take in the carnage of Cassandra’s evil lair. Most everybody is dead. You only have to skirt around a few people to get back to the Odyssey. 

You throw yourself in the driver’s seat and sink back against the bloodstained cushions. You let out a relieved breath and look at Laura, “What do you do to entertain yourself around here?”

You acclimated to the idea of being stuck in the void pretty quickly. There wasn’t exactly a lot waiting for you back home. Besides, Laura was nice enough. You had food, beer, and company. You didn’t really need much else. 

You’re pretty sure if you linger too long on the thought that Wade left you behind you’ll fall into a depression that you’re never going to be able to claw your way out of. So, you forced a smile on your face and played cards. Nothing else to do but wait to die of old age or for Alioth to kill you. 

Of course, your plans had to be ruined. There was an odd rush of air against your back and then a slight whoosh. Laura glanced over your shoulders and her brows furrowed, you turned around to find three armored men waiting behind you. 

“Flux,” the man glanced from you to Laura, “X-23?”

“Laura,” you both correct at the same time. 

The man gives an aggrieved sigh and holds his arm out, “Come with me, please.”

You stand up, energy tingling in the palms of your hands while you regard them suspiciously. Laura comes up behind you, claws out and glaring at them. “Why should we?” You demand. 

Barely a second later you hear the most insufferable voice in the world. “Hiya, peanut!” 

“Wade,” you hiss. You follow the armored men through an oddly shaped portal and find Wade standing beside a shirtless Logan, smiling proudly at you. “You fucking left me,” you hold up your hands and his eyes widen. 

His hands quickly come up, trying to assuage you, “Hold on now-”

You throw him back, his body hurtling into a nearby building and caving in the wall. Logan watches it happen with a small smile, “Been wanting to do that for a while.” 

Once Wade had recovered he filled you in on everything that happened. TVA did a general clean up and then you were standing in front of your apartment door, keys in hand like nothing had happened. 

It was so bizarre, going from a mission to save your timeline and then you’re expected to just go about your life. You stay standing in that hallway for you don’t know how long before you hear someone behind you. 

You jump and drop your keys when Logan clears his throat. “Shit,” you hiss, whirling around and glaring at him while your heart races. He chuckles and bends over to grab your keys for you. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. This is the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him, covered in blood and in a borrowed shirt. “Uh, Wade doesn’t have enough room at his place. Told me I should come over here.”

You look over his shoulder and see Wade peeking his head out of his doorway. He catches your eye, sending you a thumbs up. You almost smile but then he makes a phallic gesture with his hands, pointing at Logan and humping the air. You glare at him and he quickly backs into his apartment, but not before sending you one last encouraging shit-eating grin. 

You look back at Logan and he’s waiting expectantly for your answer. “Yeah,” you take your keys from him and unlock the door. “I’ve got a spare room but there’s no bed in it right now.” Your eyes widen when you see the mess that is your apartment. 

You quickly rush through, picking up empty take-out boxes and dirty laundry and shoving them into your room. He’s smiling at you when you come back and it's slightly off-putting. “Um,” you gesture towards the couch awkwardly. “You can take the sofa tonight and we’ll look at setting you up with something more permanent tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” he hovers by the armrest and you engage in the longest stare-off of your life. Neither of you says anything for a few suffocating moments before he gestures at himself. “Shower?”

“Oh,” you snap out of your stupor and nod your head. “Yeah, right, of course.” You show him down the hall, “Here. I’ll go get you a towel.”

You rush towards your linen closet, leaving him behind in your bathroom. You grab a few clean towels and then figure he might want some clothes as well. You grab some pajamas that Wade’s left over when he’s crashed before. They’ll probably be a bit tighter on Logan, but you wouldn’t mind seeing that. 

You walk back to the bathroom and the thought of knocking doesn’t even run through your head. It should, honestly, but you’re already so thrown off by him even being here. You walk in and immediately gasp and drop the towels. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. I’m so sorry.” He’s standing naked before you. Clothes discarded on the floor behind him. Everything on perfect display. Your eyes land on his abs, noticing a few prominent veins leading down-

You cover your face and turn around. “Sorry,” you mutter again. God, you’re such an idiot. You still haven’t even left. You’d just been shamelessly ogling the man naked and you don’t even have the decency to walk out. 

You really can’t help it though. It’s been such a clusterfuck, the last 72 hours. Your brain is fried and Wade’s little show hasn’t helped you at all.  

You hear Logan laugh behind you. “It’s alright,” he mutters. Something warm ghosts across your arm and you jump slightly. His hand firmly grasps your bicep, gently tugging your palms away from your face. 

You risk a glance over your shoulder and nearly gasp at how close he’s gotten. He's towering over you, something in his face you can’t place. “It’s alright,” he whispers again and you find yourself nodding without really thinking. 

He’s got both hands on your arms now, trailing up and down. The touch is so featherlight you can barely feel it at all. You don’t even realize how he’s gently coaxing you closer until you trip on the towels at your feet. 

You startle, looking down at them and moving to kick them aside. But he stops you, his finger nudging your chip up so you’ll look at him again. There is such blatant want painted across his face that it makes your heart skip a beat. Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps an arm around your waist and drags you closer. 

You can feel all of him. You can feel just how much he wants you. It catches you off guard, this sudden display of attraction. You don’t know where it’s coming from, what’s brought it on. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. You’ve been so lonely for so long. You just want to bask in the fact that he looks absolutely starved for you. 

No man has ever looked at you with such heartbreakingly yearning eyes - like he’s been looking for you his whole life. He dips down, lips ghosting gently over yours. Your breaths mingle together, you can nearly taste him. 

It’s unclear which one of you moves first, who pushes closer to the other. But it doesn’t matter because the second you put real pressure behind the kiss he’s all over you. One of his hands drifts down to your ass, squeezing the flesh there and dragging you closer, grinding his hips into yours. 

You moan at the feeling, your arms wrap around his neck and you press yourself even closer. He groans against your lips at the first swipe of your tongue. You part with a gasp when he picks you up, practically tossing you onto your sink. Your legs spread instinctually, making room for him as he slots himself between them. 

It’s odd, feeling so vulnerable even when he’s the one who's completely naked. It still feels like he’s holding all the power. 

His lips are moving frantically over yours like he’s terrified you’re going to disappear the second he lets go. You can taste something desperate on his tongue. Something deeply rooted inside him that you can’t identify. 

One of your hands drifts from his neck, trailing over the muscles of his chest. Your fingers carve a path down his abs, relishing in how muscular he feels under your palm. Your hand reaches his pelvis, nearly wrapped around him when he jumps back. 

He grabs your wrist in a grip so tight you know there’s going to be a bruise. A pained gasp slips out and he releases you immediately. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Sorry, I can’t.” He won’t look at you now, backing up towards the shower and shaking his head. “This was a bad idea, I can’t do this.”

You shake your head, slipping off the sink and hiding your bruised wrist behind your back. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

You feel too ashamed to meet his eye. He kissed you but you feel like you’ve forced yourself on him somehow. It’s a nauseating feeling and you want nothing more than to run back to your room and hide. 

He takes a step towards you, something pained on his face. “Kid-”

You just shake your head, step out of the bathroom, and grab the handle of the door. “Sorry,” you whisper again, closing the door behind you. You lean against the cool wood, trying to catch your breath. 

Your hand drifts up to your lips, still tingling from how desperately he’d kissed you. It doesn’t make any sense. He came on to you, he threw you up on the sink, and made out with you more passionately than any man ever has before. So why are you the one who feels dirty?

You rush down the hall and into your room, slamming the door behind you. You dive under your covers, closing your eyes even though you know you won’t sleep. No, your shoulders are tensed up to your ears and your bones are vibrating with an energy you need to release. 

You’re completely tuned into the other person lurking in your apartment. You can hear as he starts the shower, how he talks quietly to himself sometimes. Then when he gets out you can perfectly picture what he looks like while he’s getting dressed and it only makes you feel worse. 

You listen as he leaves the bathroom and pauses in the hall. You can see it in your mind’s eye, how he stares at your door. He walks towards it and lingers for a minute before cussing quietly and heading back into the living room. 

You suddenly remember that you didn’t lay sheets out on the couch for him. You feel guilty, but there’s not one part of you that will be dragged from this bed and face him. Not now, at least. 

He’s up for a little while longer, getting water. Turning the TV on and off. Rooting through your cabinets looking for booze you know you don’t have. Finally, he settles on the couch. You’re awake for another hour, unable to relax until you’re completely sure he’s asleep. Even as you drift off and your body finally relaxes your mind doesn’t. You keep seeing that stricken look on his face and it makes you sick to your stomach. 

It’s the smell of pancakes that wakes you up. You’re not sure when you finally managed to pass out last night but you know it was late. Which is why you’re so pissed off that you’re being forced to get up at seven in the morning. 

You’re used to being able to sleep in a lot later than that. You’re already in a pissy mood from last night and it only gets worse as you trudge around your room getting ready. You’ve never been more thankful to have snagged one of the rare two-bathroom apartments in the building.

You don’t want to have to share a bathroom with Logan. You don’t even want to use the other one after what happened last night. It’s too embarrassing and painful to think about. The emotional whiplash of feeling so desired and then absolutely hideous is making your head spin. 

You’re sure it was all just a problem on his end, but it really doesn’t make you feel any better. When you can’t stall any longer, and you know that Logan has heard you get up, you slip quietly out of your room. 

The curtains in your living room are open and he’s in the kitchen fucking around with your stove. The news is playing quietly on the TV and you’re astounded about how little he’s done and how much more homely your apartment feels. 

It’s never really been home to you. Not after you were booted from the X-Men. But he’s somehow made it ten times cozier than it ever has been. You almost resent him a little for it. 

“Morning,” he grumbles from the kitchen. “Coffee,” he motions behind him and you see a steaming cup already waiting for you. You silently slip behind him, grabbing the creamer from the fridge and pouring it until you’re sure it’s sweet enough to not actually taste the coffee. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, moving to sit at the table. You keep your eyes trained on the TV, pretending to pay attention to the news so you don’t have to look at him. He bores his eyes into the side of your head until you feel like you’re going to have holes in your temple. 

When you can’t take it anymore you finally look over at him. He doesn’t smile, his face barely even twitches, he just looks back to his pan and continues scrambling some eggs. “Didn’t know you cooked,” you offer up weakly, already growing anxious from the silence. 

It feels wrong, to be walking on eggshells in your own apartment. He grunts and shrugs, “Not really cooking. You had the mix in your pantry,” he tells you brusquely. His tone borders on rude and you scoff. 

The audacity of this man to have an attitude with you in your apartment. He was the one who threw a hissy fit last night. You roll your eyes and go back to the news, all it tells you is that the world is just as depressing as the inside of your apartment is right now. 

You notice out of the corner of your eye the way his shoulders slump forward. He leans against the oven, seeming not to care if he burns himself. You suppose it doesn’t matter, he’d just heal. “Sorry,” he mutters. It sounds like it pains him to say the words. 

“Whatever,” you mumble under your breath. You take a long sip of your coffee, slurping a little so you have something to fill the atmosphere. 

He puts some food on a plate and brings it over to the table for you. You usually don’t eat breakfast, preferring to just skip the meal and eat a bigger lunch. But it feels too bitchy to say that to him, so you just accept the food with a strained smile. “Thanks.”

He sits across from you, glaring down at your table like it insulted him. You drag your fork against the plate, letting the scrape of metal against porcelain drown out your worries. Finally, he looks at you. “Look, about last night.”

You tense up. You want to interrupt him, to stop him from explaining. You know it’s just going to hurt your feelings, whatever he says. Whether he tells you it was a mistake or he just realized he’s not attracted to you, either way, you’re fucked. But, it’s also kept you up all night so you just shut your mouth and let him speak. 

You keep your gaze trained on your plate, unable to fully face him. He lets out a long sigh and clenches his fork so tight you hear the metal bend. He drops it to the table and clenches and unclenches his fists a few times. 

“I just couldn’t kiss you, not when I wasn’t doing it for the right reasons.”

Your brows furrow in confusion and you finally look up at him. “What?” You demand, disbelief coloring your voice. 

His eyes are boring into yours, an intensity behind the stare that leaves you feeling a little shaken. “You look like her,” he whispers, and the grief is so thick in his voice it makes your throat tighten. He pauses briefly before continuing. “There are,” he clears his throat like he’s trying not to cry. It makes you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your stomach uncomfortably. 

“There are a few differences, obviously. You’re not a carbon copy. But your mannerisms, your attitudes, you’re so similar. And I,” he shakes his head and gives you one of the most genuinely apologetic looks you’ve ever received. You can tell he really does feel guilty for projecting on you but it doesn’t make you feel any less uncomfortable. “And I just wasn’t doing that for the right reasons. I was pretending you were her and that’s just not fair to you.”

You lean your elbows on the table, head falling into your hands. You let out a rough sigh and groan in irritation. You knew the reason would hurt but you didn’t think it would be this bad. You feel gross, icky under your skin knowing that he was pretending you were another version of yourself. The version of yourself you’ve always wanted to be; the hero. 

But you also feel such a deep sadness and sympathy for him. He’d briefly mentioned that he was married to this other you. You can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like, to see your dead wife’s face staring at you and she doesn’t even know you. 

“I,” you don’t even know where to begin. You struggle to say anything for a minute and you both just stew in the tense silence. You take in a deep breath and look up at him. You do what you always do, forcing a smile and shrugging it off. “I appreciate the honesty, really.” You stand up, bringing your still-full plate into the kitchen and busying yourself with cleaning up. 

“Clearly,” you snap, your voice crueler than it should be, “It was a mistake. We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again, right?”

Logan sits silently at the table. He looks like there’s more he wants to say but you don’t give him the chance. You can’t take it. You finally thought someone had wanted you for you, flaws and all. You’re a fucking idiot, he barely even knows you. Whatever connection you thought was there was just brought about by your own loneliness. 

“I gotta get ready for work,” you tell his back because he isn’t looking at you now. 

He nods, scraping his fork across the plate as he aggressively cuts into his food. “Right.” You wait for him to say anything else but he doesn’t. 

You walk past him and head back to your room. You don’t even have a job, you don’t have to work. But you still grab your purse and head out of the apartment. Pretending you do just so you don’t have to look at him anymore. 

You really should have let him finish, though. You should have let him keep talking to you. Let him explain how as much as he sees her in you, that’s not why he wants you. He wants you for you. Because as similar as you can be, you’re still a completely different person from who his late wife was. You’re someone strong and incredible and he genuinely wants you. But he can never really let himself be happy. 

It takes a few days for you both to ease up around the other. The incident in the bathroom is never brought up again. You take him shopping for clothes after a few days. It feels wrong to keep giving him Wade’s hand-me-downs. You would have had your friend take him, but you don’t trust Wade’s sense of fashion at all. 

After that and getting lunch together while you were out shopping things got a little easier. You bought him a bed for the spare room because you felt guilty seeing him all cramped up on your tiny couch. 

You don’t initiate any physical contact with each other. The closest you’d gotten was your hands brushing when you both reached for some popcorn at the same time on movie night. But you hadn’t really minded that bad. 

Eventually, he starts to feel like a real roommate and a friend. He lets little pieces of himself slip out. Slowly opens up about his past. You haven’t made any existential discoveries of course. But he tells you stories of what his X-Men were like. 

You try not to dance around the topic of his wife, you don’t want him to think you’re avoiding asking about her. But you also don’t want him to think you’re obsessed with discussing her. 

He’s right, you two weren’t carbon copies of each other at all. You might share a few things in common but the more both you and Logan learn about each other, the more clear it is how different you both are from your variants. 

Sometimes you think he looks at you like he’s really seeing you, not her. But you can never be sure and you don’t want to put much strength behind the thought in case you’re wrong. You hate the idea that when you’re thinking of nothing but him, he’s just seeing her reflection on your face. 

There’s nothing you can do about it but it doesn’t stop the hurt. 

Tonight, at Wade’s suggestion, you’re both up on the roof waiting for a meteor shower that you’re ninety percent sure is never going to happen. You’re also one hundred percent sure that Wade just tricked you out of your apartment so he could have sex in it. He and Vanessa don’t really get a lot of time alone with Blind Al around. You’re already mentally preparing for the absolute fuck storm you’re going to have to clean up after.  

There’s a light nudge on your shoulder and you glance over at Logan. He’s got the whiskey bottle outstretched towards you and you take it from him with a smile. One thing about being his roommate, your alcohol tolerance has skyrocketed. His liver might regenerate, but you’re pretty sure if you keep going down this route yours will give out in a few months. 

“Think this is actually going to happen?” You ask, pointing up toward the clear night sky. 

Logan chuckles and shakes his head. He stretches out in your flimsy lawn chair and you try not to let your gaze be drawn to the sliver of skin peeking out from his shirt. “Probably not, but I don’t mind being out here.”

There’s an unspoken, with you, that makes you smile. You meet his gaze, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Me either.” You lean back in your chair, pulling your legs up onto the seat and huddling under your blanket. “It’s peaceful.”

You drink together in silence for a little while longer. Then you have to tap out, you don’t want your brain getting too foggy. Tonight is nice, you want to remember it tomorrow. To your surprise, he caps the bottle and places it to the side. You don’t mention it but you do feel like you’ve noticed he’s been drinking a little less. The dark circles under his eyes seem to be easing away ever so slightly. 

He looks over at you with an odd light in his eyes. You shift uncomfortably under his stare when it lasts a little longer than it usually does. You chuckle awkwardly, “Do I have something on my face?”

There’s a soft uptick to his lips as he shakes his head. “No,” he mutters, looking back out at the night. “You mind if I ask you something?”

Ominous, but whatever. “Sure.”

He still doesn’t look at you and you worry slightly about whatever it is he’s going to ask. He doesn’t ease you into it all, “Wade said your brain was broken?” A laugh springs out of your throat from how brusque that was. He rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ idiot mentioned it in the void, been wonderin’ about it.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him. You’re relaxed enough that you don’t mind answering. You don’t want to pop the soft bubble you’ve managed to create around each other. “Here,” you hold your hand out for the whiskey bottle. He gives you an apprehensive look before handing it over. 

You unscrew the cap, “This,” you say and point your hand at the glass. The liquid inside lifts into the air and you freeze it before dropping it back into the bottle with a splash, a simple little party trick. “This used to be enough to put me in a coma for two days. That’s what he meant. Something happened to me and I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Logan’s eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief. You laugh a little, “I assume your wife never had problems like that?”

There’s always a fond smile when you mention his wife. Whether the memory is bittersweet or not. “She wasn’t perfect, much as I thought so. When she used her powers too much she,” he trails off and looks down at the floor. You frown, ducking your head down so you can catch his gaze. 

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” you promise quietly.

But he shakes his head and gives you a weak, tight-lipped smile. “No, I want to. And I don’t want you to think you’re the only Flux who struggled. When she used her powers too much she would deteriorate. Parts of her would just disappear, I don’t even know how to describe it. They were destroying her from the inside out.”

You let out a low whistle, eyes widening slightly. “Well, maybe I didn't get the short end of the stick after all.” It’s quiet and for a moment you worry your humor was ill-timed. 

But he lets out a rough laugh, “No, I guess not.” He takes in a deep breath before looking back up at you. There’s no distant sadness in his eyes like there usually is when you bring her up. It seems to only be a familiar ache now, rather than something fresh and bleeding. “But what happened to you? Why couldn’t you use your powers?”

“Oh,” you look down at your lap, picking at the strings of your pants. It would be unfair to have him talk about his wife and then wimp out when it was your turn. 

“Um, There was this mission. A bunch of kids, mutants, were being held in this warehouse. It was actually pretty normal, just go in, retrieve them, and bring them back to safety. I must have done a dozen of these before, but, I don’t know. Something was this different this time around.”

You can still hear them screaming. In your mind, you hear the way they cried for help. And you see the look on your faces when they realize you can’t save them every time you go to sleep. 

You suck in a sharp breath and almost jump when his hand lands on yours. It’s gentle, he’s barely even touching you and he’s not even acknowledging what he’s doing. But you take his hand in yours and squeeze, it’s nice, grounding. 

“Long story short, they were heavily guarded and I was pretty drained from fighting off the guards. My powers were practically gone by the time we could even get to the kids. And, I don’t know, something must have gotten knocked over or hit the wrong way because smoke was filling the place and everything was on fire. I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t breathe, and the kids were blocked off. There was nothing we could do to get to them. Everyone kept screaming at me, telling me to just use my abilities and get them out of there. I couldn’t,” your voice gets thick and you look anywhere but at him. “I,” your mouth hangs open and you don’t know what you could possibly say. 

There’s no excuse for what happened. “I just couldn’t,” you whisper. You sniffle and your eyes flutter rapidly, trying to stop any tears from coming. “Hadn’t been able to use my powers since then. Trauma block or something, I guess,” you dismiss yourself flippantly and shrug. 

Logan just squeezes your hand again. He doesn’t seem to know what to say to comfort you and you’re honestly grateful for the silence. You get so sick of people telling you there was nothing you could have done. Or that the others should have helped you. Because that’s not a fucking excuse. There’s no fixing what happened, no giving those parents their children back. You fucked up and you don’t appreciate people giving you cop-outs. 

You keep your gaze trained steadily on the ground, eyes going blurry while you try to slip into the back of your mind. You don’t get the chance, though. Logan is kneeling in front of you, hands slipping up your arms to cup your face. 

He forces you to look at him, to stay present in the moment with him. “You fucked up,” he tells you. It's so shocking that you can’t help but let out a loud wet laugh. You sniffle and he grins, wiping the tears out from under your eyes. His grip on your cheeks tightens and he makes sure you’re listening as he speaks, “You fucked up, kid. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try your fucking hardest. And it doesn’t erase all the people you did help.”

Your eyes search him, trying to find any kernel of untruth. Trying to prove to yourself that this isn’t real. That he isn’t real. You don’t deserve this moment of such unwavering trust and faith. This is meant for someone else, for someone who deserves good things in life. 

You’ve never truly believed you deserved happiness or peace like this. But right now you don’t care because he is saying everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. And he actually means it. 

Your hand drifts up, covering his and tilting your head to press a gentle kiss to his palm. It’s tentative, a test, a way to give him an out if doesn’t want this. His grip on you tightens for half a second before he shoots forward and claims your lips with his own. 

It escalates quickly. You practically melt off your chair, straddling his lap while he leans back on the ground. Your hands tug at his hair while he moves desperately over your body. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to do, where he wants to touch you. 

You love how fully his hands engulf you, the tight way they cradle you to his chest. You’ve never felt more secure in someone’s arms than you do right now. He’s got you, and he wants you. For you this time, you can tell. You can tell from the way he holds you that this isn’t a desperation born from grief. It’s something else, something you’re not ready to identify yet. 

His tongue laves across the seam of your lips, silently asking permission. You smile against the kiss, parting your lips and deepening it. He licks into you, tasting you with a low grunt in the back of his throat. You feel your hips start to move of their own volition. Gently grinding down against his lap. You moan when you feel just how bad he wants you. 

You lean back, parting from the kiss and pressing a finger to his chest to keep from following. You chuckle at his eagerness, grinding your hips down again and watching the way he thrusts up to meet your movement. “Didn’t know I was such a good kisser,” you tease. 

But he doesn’t return the joke or play along. His face falls slightly and he pulls further away from you, the look on his face distant. “What?” You whisper. “Do I have bad breath?” You joke, trying to keep the mood light. 

He shakes his head and runs a tired hand over his face. “No,” he mutters. He repeats the word more firmly and finally meets your gaze. “I think I need to take this slow, just because of…”

He trails off but you know what he means. His wife. You don’t know if he’s still projecting her onto you, you felt so sure he wasn’t earlier. But if every time you kiss he’s gonna pull back you’re not sure that you can do this. “Of course,” you mutter with a bite to your voice. It’s hard not to feel a little rejected every time he acts like this. 

You move to get off his lap but his hands clamp down on your hips and he shakes his head again. “You don’t have to get up.”

You hesitate, thighs still hovering over his. You should get up and put as much space between you as possible. But he’s so warm and you want to be held for a little while more. You nod and he looks relieved. You lean back down, pressing your chest against his and letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. 

He wraps a heavy arm around your back, keeping you close while the other reaches up to stroke your hair. It makes you feel small, in a good way. Like you can just relax and he’ll take care of you. 

“Goddamn,” he laughs a little and you sit up. He nods to the sky above and you turn around, gasping. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, “he wasn’t lying.” For once, Wade was telling the truth. Above you, it looks like the sky is falling. Glittering stars dart across the sky, streaks of blue following behind them. You grin, “It’s so beautiful.”

Logan keeps his eyes on you and nods, “Yeah, it is.”

“Ah, look, my favorite fuck buddies.”

”Wade,” you greet tightly. You shove the bottle of wine you brought into his chest and he stumbles back. “Just let us in, you freak.”

He frowns, placing a hand over his heart. “You know, it really hurts when you talk like that. I think we all need to hold hands and have a good old-fashioned jerk circle.”

You roll your eyes and flick his thick forehead. “It’s share circle, dumbass.”

”Not the way I do it,” he moves to the side and lets you both in. “Well, mi casa es su casa, especially since Vanessa and I had rockin’ sex in your bed last week.”

He walks off before you can hit him or even begin to respond to that. “I fucking knew it,” you hiss, glaring at his stupid Hawaiian shirt while he mingles with the rest of the people at the party. 

Logan chuckles behind you, “How did you two ever become friends?”

You roll your eyes and turn to face him. “I moved in next door,” you respond dryly. “This was a nonconsensual friendship because god hates me, clearly.” You shrug your jacket off and he takes it from you, hanging it up on the hook by the door. He comes back, slinging an arm around your shoulder, and leading you towards the kitchen. 

You hear Wade laughing loudly in the background and he grunts, “I’m gonna need a drink for this,” he mutters. You nod your head in agreement. You don’t get very far, though, because without any warning Wade is in front of you. He’s got his ridiculous dog in his arms and shoves her in your face. You grimace and jump back. Logan abandons you and you narrow your eyes at his retreating back. Traitor

Wade says your name with disappointment. “You know, Mary Puppins is a part of my life now. As my best friend, you need to bond with her. I can’t have you two fighting like this.” He shoves the dog into your arms without any warning and you flinch away from her wandering tongue. 

“If this thing licks me, I’m putting her down,” you warn him gravely. 

He gasps and snatches her back. “You are no longer welcome in my home,” he tells you with a snotty huff. You roll your eyes and watch him go. When he’s out of sight your lips curl up in a grin and you glance at Logan. 

He’s by the sink, making himself a drink and taking a deep swig straight out of the bottle. You creep up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smiles, hand coming down to gently hold your arm. “What’re you doing?”

”Come with me,” you whisper. You take his hand and lead him through the apartment. You both skirt around the partygoers, giving them vague greetings and waving them off when they give you odd looks. 

Logan leans down, lips brushing across your ear as he whispers, “Where are we going?” Your knees nearly give out when you hear that low tone of voice of his. You just shake your head and lead him down the hall. You can sniff out Wade’s room from the permeating stench of his axe body spray. 

You throw the door open and drag Logan inside behind you. His nose wrinkles up at the stiff socks littering the floor and the smell. Other than that, it’s relatively clean. You actually thought this would look so much worse. 

“Now,” Logan demands, “are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

“Well,” you lock the door and turn around with a devious grin. “Seeing as Wade has ruined my favorite sheets, I feel like we need to get him back somehow.” You glance around the room, trying to figure out something of his you want to destroy. 

You don’t hear Logan moving towards you. You’re too busy rooting through Wade’s desk and trying to find something good to shred up.  All you’re seeing is increasingly more disturbing porno mags. He has got a serious problem with pegging. You briefly wonder if you should set up an intervention or something for him. 

You nearly yelp when Logan’s hands grip your shoulders, whipping you around to face him. “I’ve got an idea of what we can do.” That’s your only warning before his lips cover your own. You melt into him immediately, hands fisting his shirt and dragging him closer. He grins against your lips, lifting you and placing you on the edge of Wade’s desk. 

“Mm,” you moan but shove his chest back and shake your head. “Wait,” you hop off the desk and take a seat on Wade’s bed instead. “There’s no point in this if we’re not on the bed.”

Logan shakes his head with an amused huff. He walks towards you but instead of taking a seat on the bed next to you like you'd expected, he kneels before you. Your brows furrow together and you frown. “Wait, what’re you doing?”

He gives you a gentle smile, hands coming up to rub gently over your thighs. The warmth of his palms soothes you almost immediately. “You trust me?” He asks, voice a low rumble against your chest. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. He nods encouragingly and leans forward, kissing you gently. There’s nothing expectant in this kiss. He’s doing it just to be close to you. Then you feel his hands drifting higher, fingers running over the buttons of your jeans. Your lips part, ready to ask him a question. But he just takes the chance to dip his tongue into your mouth, eagerly tasting you. You moan into it, not protesting when he presses you back into the bed. 

His fingers dip under the waistband of your jeans. You lift your hips to help him tug them the rest of the way down until they’re dropping to the floor quietly. You have a million questions dancing on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find it in yourself to actually voice any of them. You don’t want to break the moment. This is the first time he’s seemed comfortable going further than kissing and some heavy petting. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Your hips jolt as he runs a thumb over the wet spot on your panties. “All this just from kissing?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his tone. You feel your face flush, cheeks warming when you realize he’s never actually seen just how much he affects you. “Relax,” he tells you, squeezing your thighs once before slipping a few lithe fingers under the band of your panties. 

He tugs them down, but the second he sets eyes on you he gets too impatient to take them off the rest of the way. They dangle off one ankle while he lifts your thighs, setting them on his shoulder and dipping down to press a gentle kiss against you. You gasp at the contact, head tilting back while you instinctually grind your hips up against him. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve actually been with anyone and you already know you’re going to cum embarrassingly quick because he fucking devours you. You’ve had boyfriends who liked to eat you out before, but this is something completely different. 

He drags his tongue over you, sucking on your clit like it’s his only true joy in life. You can’t even make noises, your jaw hanging slack while you cant your hips higher. He groans when you grind against his face, shaking his head and flicking his nose across your bud. You nearly come from the sight of him smiling against your cunt alone. You feel it building slowly, and it’s like your powers are swelling up along with your release. 

Wade’s knicknacks are floating off the shelves, some of them rotating in the air, others fluctuating between liquid and solid forms. You can’t control yourself, you’re barely aware of the chaos happening in the room around you. You just feel a warmth at the tips of your toes, swelling over your body, making your skin feel too tight. There’s little to no warning when you cum. He dips his tongue inside you and you let out a long moan, drenching his face. 

The sheets are soaking wet underneath you and you know you’ve ruined his shirt. You’ve never come that hard before and you would reflect on that more if he wasn’t still fucking eating you out. You think your brain is going to melt out of your ears, you're so overwhelmed by all the different sensations.

He dips his tongue into you, dragging out your orgasm and drinking as much of you down as he can. Your hips keep twitching, you’d be thrashing out of his hands if it wasn’t for the near brushing grip he has on your hips. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you reach down, grabbing his hair at the roots and tugging. He groans at the feeling, barely leaning an inch back. “No more,” you whisper, chest heaving. 

He smiles, palms smoothing across the skin of your thighs, “You okay?” 

“Mhm,” you hum weakly. Your head falls back against the bed with a dull thunk and you struggle to catch your breath. “Holy shit, where did you learn to do that?” He doesn’t answer, just laughs. You jump slightly when he presses a tender kiss on your thigh, every part of you oversensitive. 

He moves slowly up your body, hands dragging your shirt up until he’s pulling it over your head. He cups your cheeks, letting you recover while he kisses your cheeks and face. You laugh slightly at the feeling of his beard tickling you. 

You pull back, meeting his gaze for a long drawn-out moment before you lean forward to finally kiss him back. You can feel yourself slowly coming back into your body. Your limbs tingle back to life while you lazily make out with him. 

His hands drift down your chest, squeezing your breasts. You laugh against his lips, arching into his touch. You reach back, unclipping your bra and throwing it off somewhere in the room. In the far reaches of your mind, you make a mental note to take that when you go. You don’t want to think about what Wade would do with it if he found it. 

Logan pulls back from you and your lips tip down at the serious look he wears. Your fingers trace the lines of his face and you tilt your head in question. “What’s wrong?” You whisper. You’re completely naked before him and he’s still clothed, you don’t want him to leave now. 

He can’t keep doing this to you. He can’t keep forcing you into these vulnerable positions and then leaving. There’s only so much rejection you can take before you start to resent him for it. 

He tilts his head down, gaze dragging across your body appreciatively. He’s looking at you like you’re art and it makes you feel like you should be in a museum somewhere. Finally, his hand drags down from your chest, wrapping around your waist and dragging you onto his lap. 

You brace your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He leans towards you, lips trailing lightly across your jaw. “You’re not her,” he whispers against your skin. Your mouth parts, a pained breath slipping through. You try to move back from him. You hadn’t expected something like that, not now, not when you thought you’d made so much progress together. 

To have you naked, vulnerable like this, and then say something like that to you. It was fucking despicable. You shove his shoulders back but he barely moves. You shift, trying to cover yourself and fighting off the urge to cry. Why won’t he let you go? Why does he keep doing this to you? 

He reaches out, snatching up your wrist before you can get far. “I don’t want you to be. I never wanted you to be her, I need you to know that.”

He tries to kiss you but you snatch his jaw in your hand before he can. You let your nails dig in until there’s red blooming under your fingertips. He hisses, but he’s not mad, you can feel how much he enjoys the little pinpricks of pain. 

“No more pulling away,” you warn. “I’m not playing this damn game with you anymore, Logan. You want me, then commit.” You release him with a shove and his pupils dilate with want. You appreciate the gentle way he’s been treating you, but you know you’re both holding back. 

He’s the first partner you’ve been with that can actually take what you give and vice versa. There’s something only mutants understand sometimes. You normally have to hold back, have to make sure you don’t scare a guy off by making the walls shake when you come. 

You push him down onto the bed. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt and running over the grooves of his muscles. You haven’t had a chance to appreciate just how gorgeous his body is before, but nothing is holding you back now. 

You snap your fingers and the buttons rip open, he surges forward catching your lips with his while you both frantically push his shirt off. He throws it off to the side and his fingers fumble with his belt buckle while you trail kisses down his neck. You glance up at him for a second before biting down on a particularly sensitive spot. 

He groans, head rolling back while you grin against his skin. You make your way back to his lips. “Don’t hold back,” you tell him, trailing your hands down to his fists and running over the spots where the claws come out. 

“Sweetheart,” he starts tone apprehensive. You shake your head, shutting him up with a kiss. 

“Don’t. Hold. Back.”

It’s like a switch flipping. Even the way he looks at you changes. You’re not something to be cherished and adored. You feel like a deer pinned by a wolf. He’s got you in his clutches now and there’s a real possibility you might not survive this. 

He stands up, dropping you on the bed and dragging your hips off the edge. He doesn’t kick his jeans off, just lowers them enough for his cock to hang out. You’ll address the fact that he wasn’t wearing boxers later, you’re too worried about what’s hanging between his legs right now. 

You’re no virgin, but goddamn, there’s no way that’s going to fit. 

He laughs, the noise cruel and it makes shivers crawl down your spine. “We’ll make it work, kid.” He spreads your legs and you tilt your hips up, making it easier for him to just sip inside. 

There’s a slight stretch, but you’re already soaked for him. You’ve been waiting for this to happen since you walked in on him naked in your bathroom. “Oh, shit,” you toss your head back, taking in a deep breath while he pushes in. It feels like he’s rearranging your insides, molding you to fit him perfectly. 

You can already feel yourself clenching down, just being so close to him is enough to make that tingle in the tips of your toes start. He leans down, placing your legs over his elbows and rutting into you like a wild animal. There’s nothing gentle or slow about this. 

You’re both so pent-up, tired from the weeks of dancing around each other. Your nails drag up his back, blood following your movement. Your powers are actively surging against him, pain only driving you further into each other’s arms. 

You can hear his breathy grunts and groans in your ears and it’s music to you. Neither of you cares about the party going on just outside the door. You’re loud, skin slapping against skin while you loudly call out his name. 

God, you hope they hear you. Hope they realize just how thoroughly you’re wrecked for each other. You can feel yourself getting closer, hips stuttering against his while you struggle to match his pace. “Come on,” he mutters in your ear. He releases one of your legs to reach down and rub your clit. 

“Fuck,” you groan, reaching up and tugging at his hair while your back bows. It only takes a few more tight circles of his thumb before you’re spasming around him. He’s quick to follow behind you. 

He pins your hips to the bed, dropping your legs while he thrusts faster. He loses his rhythm, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he cums inside you. It’s like a mini death, you feel like you’ve lost time when you finally manage to come back to yourself. 

And when you roll your head to the side you realize just how much damage you’ve done to Wade’s bed. “Shit,” You glance up at the sound of his voice and notice little droplets of blood on your hips. Logan’s claws are out, stuck in the fluff of the bed. 

You force the words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. “Do that often?”

“Not really,” he mutters. The claws retreat and he rubs his fingers over the blood. It’s not bad, you’ve honestly done worse to yourself. It’s like a big paper cut. When the rough pad of his fingers presses against the cut you hiss at the sting, nearly enjoying it. 

“Must be special,” you tell him with a cheeky grin. He shakes his head with a laugh and takes his time pulling out. You hate the loss of him inside you but it's a slight relief. He's larger than any partner you’ve ever had and it’s almost overwhelming to be so full. 

“Come on, let's get you dressed.” He pats your thighs, glancing around for your clothes. 

“Uh, Logan,” he looks up and you glance at his still very hard cock. “I thought you came?”

The smile he gives you is slightly terrifying. Because there’s a promise in it. He’s not getting you dressed for no reason. He’s taking you back to your apartment so you can have more fun where there are less people and fewer reminders of Wade. “Stamina's part of the deal, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you whisper, voice breathless in shock. You wipe the cum off your legs with Wade’s sheets. You feel like you’ve thoroughly gotten revenge on him for destroying your favorite bed set. Maybe, you’ve gone a little farther than revenge, though. 

You feel guilty, looking around the room and seeing everything you destroyed. Once you’re dressed, you wave your hand, putting most things back where they belong. But there’s nothing you can do about the bed. The sheets are soaked with a mixture of yours and Logan’s releases and there are six holes dug deep in the bed from his claws. 

When you step out of the room with Logan, struggling to press down your hair and get it back into place, Blind Al is waiting by the door. She’s doing a line off the back of her hand when you pass by. You think you’ve almost made it scott-free when she yells, “Man, I wish I couldn’t fucking hear,” at you. 

You tense up, shoulders to your ears while you run to the door. Logan laughs, grabbing your coat for you and pressing a hand to your back while he leads you to the apartment. “Weren’t feeling so embarrassed earlier,” he teases. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, dragging him into the apartment to finish what you couldn’t on Wade’s bed. 

You’ve managed to keep any holes out of your bed, you just have to use your powers to keep his at bay. It’s nice, not having to explain why everything around you is levitating to the person you’re having sex with. There were a lot of awkward conversations that came from that. 

You’re lying on Logan’s chest, fingers idly running over the veins in his biceps. “I want to be serious about this,” you tell him. 

His hand pauses from where it’d been stroking your back. You sit up on your elbow so you can get a better look at him. “I mean it, I,” there’s no way to say this without sounding like a complete bitch. You just have to rip the bandaid off. 

You take in a deep breath, “I know that you still miss her,” you say, unwilling to say her name. Logan sits up, looking more serious now. “But I don’t want to be with you if you think that I’m going to turn into her. Or if you think that I’m the last connection you have to her. I’m not her, Logan, and I'm never going to be her.”

You expect anger on his face or regret, maybe. But you don’t expect him to laugh at you. You roll your eyes, lips pursed while you wait for him to finish. He notices the pissy expression on your face and quiets down, but you still see a smile fighting on his lips. 

“I know you’re not her. You could not be more different” he tells you with a slight smirk, like there’s an inside joke you’re missing out on. “I was married to her for a long time and I loved her. But we had our time together. Now, I just want my time with you. You’re not her,” he leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “That’s why I want you.”

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and have to fight to keep a stupid grin off your face. “Okay,” you whisper. “Good, well as long as we’re on the same page,” you tell him, faux serious. He just rolls his eyes and pulls you back into his arms. 

You’re going to cuddle up beside him when you hear your phone going off like crazy on your nightstand. Your face pinches in confusion and you reach over to grab it. 

Wade

Did you fuckers have sex???

In my bed!!!!

And you didn’t invite me?!

….

Wade

Tell Logan I want his claws in me next

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” you mutter, throwing your phone somewhere on the bed. Logan laughs again, drawing you closer. 

a/n: i have a really weird tendency for masochism, idk what that’s about. I just feel like if you were having sex with this man, he’s taking you like a wild animal. also feel like I might be a one-hit wonder. the smut just wasn’t doing it for me this time guys nor was the angst, i’m disappointed in myself

I just don't think I did justice to his character in the movie, I might have made it too OOC/ if I did PLEASE let me know

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus ♡

[luveline]

bombshell finds tickets to a russian movie thing sitting in spencer’s desk at work and they’re about to like run out (?) so she presents them to spencer and asks him on a date and pretends that she didn’t just pull them out of spencers desk in that bombshell way

You’re looking for gum. If Spencer were at his desk, you’d politely beg for a stick and he’d give it to you, but he’s not here, so you must search. 

You sit in his seat, slinking down as he does with poor posture, your kitten heels hitting the spine of a book kept under the desk. Your dress’ skirt rises up your thighs, the fabric at your neck pulls, but you have bigger problems. You’re feeling the weird franticness of unspent energy and only a stick of gum is gonna fix you. 

He has a drawer full of things, neatness traded for space. Blue and pink paper clips in an arrowhead shaped box. Push pins of all colours, their box more ordinary. He has a travel book on indigenous North American birds with stamps held between the pages, a plastic bottle cap, train stubs from Quantico to the station outside of his apartment and a bottle of ibuprofen missing half of its contents. 

Your fingers dig around for the familiar shape of a packet of gum, hesitating thoughtfully against the thread of a thicker cardstock. 

You pull a cream envelope from the desk and, perhaps wrongfully, unveil the contents: two tickets to see any Russian flick at the foreign language theatre free of charge (if you buy a large drink). They expire tonight. 

You press them to your chest and spin in Spencer’s chair without any regard for whoever might see you slouching. Across the office with his hair out of his face and a smile bordering lackadaisical stands your favourite. He even has a pencil in hand. He likes to underline things in the books he reads for your benefit. It’s the pencil that decides your next move. 

You stand up, brushing down your nice dress that he seems to like, a black cotton with thin pinstripes settling nicely just above your knees. You check your lipstick in the black reflection of his sleeping monitor, buzzing. 

He’s watching you when you turn back. You hide the tickets behind your hip and begin a light walk to his side, the chug of the printer a constant hum you can feel in your shoes. 

“What’s up?” he asks. 

You tilt your head toward your shoulder ever so slightly. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” He squints. “You’re acting strange.” 

“Suspicious,” you correct. 

“That, too.” 

“How come you let me hold your hand?” 

Spencer doesn’t hide his surprise at your question very well. His eyes turn deer in the headlights, then down to the printer. “What do you mean?” he asks. 

“When we first met, you wouldn’t shake my hand. And that’s okay,” —your smile is loving in the hope that he finds your question as the curiosity it is and not an interrogation— “I’m just wondering what changed.” 

“I was distracted.” He’s talking about the first time you took his hand, the two of you on the way to the office. “You stopped me from being late.” 

“Right, but I should’ve asked and I didn’t. And now we hold hands all the time.” You take a half step back. “I’m not trying to embarrass you, I’m just wondering.”

“Nobody’s held my hand in a really long time. And you’re mostly clean.” 

“Mostly!” you laugh, giving him a guilty smile. “I’m super clean, I just forget how gross door handles are sometimes.”

You have embarrassed him, in a way. It’s really not what you meant to do, not when you’re about to ask him on a date. 

Ever since you started your official position at the BAU, you and Spencer have grown closer, but there’s a difference between flirting because he’s lovely and flirting because you want him to be your boyfriend. (Not that he knows what you want.) You shouldn’t have started with the hand holding thing. 

“Spencer.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Will you go on a date with me?” You present him with the movie tickets. “Got these, they expire tonight…”

“Are those from my desk?” he asks, taking the tickets from you to look over closely. 

“I’d love to go with you, unless you’re gonna take someone else, which is fine.” You embarrass yourself a little, even though you’re not, hoping it makes up for the hand-holding investigation. “Yeah, they’re from your desk. Sorry. I really wanted a stick of gum, my– my nervous energy is through the roof today.” 

Spencer frowns at you again. “How come?” he asks softly. 

“I don’t know. It just happens sometimes.” 

And that’s nothing you’ve ever admitted to him. Your perfect mask is broken, and Spencer doesn’t look at you any differently. “Do you actually wanna go to the movies?” he asks. 

“Only if I’m not stealing you away from somebody else.” 

“There’s no one else.”

Spencer abruptly turns his attention to the printer, where he collects his copies and shuffles them into a straight, neat pile. 

You recover quickly, though inside your heart is a stuttering mess. “I should hope not,” you say. “Okay. Awesome. I’ll bring hand sanitiser and you can hold my hand through the previews.” 

[phantasmicfish]

Just some more Dune Part 2 things that I thought were interesting with a specific focus on Feyd-Rautha:

- just… the way that he’s so very accurately portrayed as a psychopath adds a level of grit I didn’t get reading when the book

- the scenes with him and Lady Fenring got me good. The book mentions that he finds her attractive, definitely echoed in the movie. There weren’t explicitly written scenes in the book of how Lady Fenring slept with him (but this was confirmed through dialogue), so I liked the movie’s interpretation of her luring him using her Bene Gesserit abilities

- I would have liked to see Feyd-Rautha tested by the Gom Jabbar the same way Paul was. In the book (and I think part 1 of the movie?) it’s specified that Paul has endured the most amount of pain anyone can handle from the test, but given that movie Feyd-Rautha seems canonically a sadist + masochist, I wonder how long he would have lasted?

- overall the vibe and aesthetic of the Harkonnen’s was terrifying and great. The black and white visuals, dimly lit rooms, flashing lights… There are a lot of different villains in Dune, especially in Part 2 — The Emperor, Jessica, but the most clear-cut ones by far are the Harkonnens. I think the visuals definitely amplify that. I find it rather interesting that the Harkonnens are portrayed to be evil as an entire house. The fact that they all had bald heads gave them a mass identity, served to make them seem perhaps more alien and less human, all capable of committing heinous crimes. Even Feyd-Raytha’s servants or whoever eat human organs

- I think it was an interesting choice to have Feyd-Rautha actually stab Paul during their final fight, we see the blade actually hurt Paul, penetrate his skin, we see Paul gasping for breath, we see Paul struggling for survival. I believe the book made the fight seem more cut-and-dry, that Feyd was a formidable opponent but he didn’t actually stab Paul (though he does draw blood). So I sorta felt the fight was a good contrast between showing Paul as still human while he maintains this cult status. I could see how his ability to survive this fight, despite his injuries, also elevate his messiah status among the Fremen

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Neil, my name is Zalean. If you have a few minutes, I wanted to tell you a little story. Not really a question and I’m not sure how to use tumblr but I wanted to say thanks so much for coming to Florida a few months back and talking with Art Spiegelman. It was my first time ever figuring out how to buy tickets for something. I lived in, middle of nowhere, Vermont for most my life and had no idea what I was doing, I had never been to anything before, nothing had made me excited enough to do the 5 hour drive. And then you just appeared 20 minutes away from where I am living now.

See, I was just starting to get to know your books and work because I fell in love with Good Omens so deeply when I discovered it during season twos release. Funny thing is, I knew of you all along without even realizing it, Stardust has been my favorite book and movie since I was a kid because it was my dad’s favorite story. Finding out my two favorite things were actually connected, I started trying to get hands on as many of your books as I could. I hadn’t read in years before finding your books. It was eye opening.

The talk event at the Dr.Phillips Center was sold out by the time I knew about it, someone had asked me if I knew of the event when they saw my Good Omens keychains my mom had made me. I called the box office because there is no harm in asking. I explained how I’m an art student at UCF and desperately wanted to be inspired and learn from you both. The customer service people were amazing and ended up calling me back to get me a seat in the orchestra pit before they were released to the public. I drove alone, I walked there alone, I sat alone, and it was worth it. I was so thankful to get a seat and grateful to my professor who was a bit jealous he didn’t know about it but let me leave class early to go because of course the art professor would be understanding for any learning opportunities in the arts. And it was truly wonderful, it seemed real and that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want a show. I just wanted to hear, in some sense, that you were like everybody else. I brought a notebook and pen for any information or story’s that I thought made a difference to my little life. The other people around were wonderful, you inspire kind people.

Like I said, I had never been to anything like this and I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know you would have signed books and I only found out because the people next to me came in late. I asked them why they brought the books after it was over and the lights turned on. They did look at me like I had three heads for a moment until they realized I didn’t know there were books to buy, they looked kinda sorry for me but they were so nice. I had never really thought about the importance of someone’s scribble before this but it’s something that proves you were there. It says “Remember when this person made you happy? Remember when they changed your life? Remember when they gave you hope? Look at this and remember.” I hope to see David Tennant and Michael Sheen to get an autograph now that I understand the meaning behind it a bit more but honestly I just love diving into everyone’s projects, the wonder you all create. Oh what fun it is to live a life full of stories!

The people that were sitting next to me let me look at their signed books and hold them. I flipped through some of the big ones, handed them back and expressed my gratitude just to be in the theater. I showed them all my little quotes I wrote down, I never want to forget why I create things and you say so much about never stopping, always creating. Then the women handed me a different book, a smaller book, but when I tried to hand it back, a bit confused, she softly placed it back in my open hands and said “I want you to have it, we have plenty and I want you to love these stories just as much as we do. It’s just starting for you, I want you to remember who started it”. The book she handed me being“The Ocean at the End of the Lane”. The first book I decided to read by you and had just finished a week before. The women had no idea she given me a signed copy of the book that made me want to read again. Your books make the world better. For such a big theater and such a big stage, I just wanted to tell you my little point of view.

The story you told about wishing you enjoyed the past more than you did, I hope you get to enjoy it now, and I hope you want to. And thank you, to you and to Terry Pratchett for creating something special. I convinced my dad to watch Good Omens with me over December break, he loved it.

I forget sometimes that everything is someone's first time, and then I read something like this and feel like I need to remember that better. I'm glad the people beside you were kind.

[maryrouille]

Toxic romanticization of studying

In a word of introduction, my profile partly shows that studying and exploring is wonderful. But as a person involved in science*, I would like to show healthy and true patterns of this beautiful adventure in acquiring knowledge.

The inspiration for writing this post this time was not the phenomenon from Tumblr (although you can also observe it here), but from Pinterest. There you can come across cycles composed of quotes and photos whose aim is to motivate young girls to learn, succeed and get good grades. These images often also show examples of characters from movies, TV series or real life that you can aspire to be like. Overall, I have to agree that it really works! But I would like to draw attention to certain elements that need to be verified.

1. You shouldn't get up at 5am

First of all, the correct amount of sleep is one of the most important factors affecting the proper and effective functioning of our brain. During sleep, nerve cells regenerate, organize information acquired during the day and consolidate memory traces, which is directly related to learning. Lack of sleep increases impulsivity, deepens negative thinking and slows down the body's reaction time!

2. You can be a genius without good grades

Of course, good grades are a pleasant confirmation of our knowledge and praise for hard work. However, sometimes it is worth considering whether the structure of exams themselves, especially those with closed questions, affects the results. We often study for one specific exam, the knowledge of which may be very… limited and sometimes not useful, so it is worth prioritizing the topics that we study hard.

3. It's not cool to think you're better than others

We are different and have different priorities in life. It is also worth considering how many people escape from the rat race and start a slow, stress-free life. So we have to agree that judging people based on grades or responses under stress (sic!) is not cool.

The good thing about romanticizing studying

As I have already said, these types of collages are really motivating. So let's talk about what's great about them and what's worth highlighting and saving for later.

1. Knowledge is beautiful, but your outfit and surroundings can also be

We know that we should never judge a book by its cover, but… the issue of social perception painfully confirms that we do and will continue to do so because this is how our brains work. And isn't it nice when someone looks at us and thinks this girl is so classy?

Moreover, a nice outfit that makes us feel good gives us a lot of self-confidence. There are also many studies confirming the positive impact on motivation and concentration of a neat and aesthetic workplace.

2. Not just cramming, but also discovering

Broadening your horizons is easier with passion and real commitment. And to achieve this, the topics must really interest us. Not everyone has yet found something that they are extremely passionate about in science, so that is why you have to dig deeper and discover different areas.

3. Don't be afraid to use your knowledge in practice

Schools and universities, unfortunately, have their own rules and they do not always allow you to show your 100% potential. Thus, share your knowledge with others externally, write essays, blog and social media. This form of activity also makes you learn things faster and easier. In addition, contacts with others will expand your knowledge.

Therefore, I must say that it is worth choosing your inspirations carefully. Nothing helps you enjoy studying better than a clear head and lack of prejudices.

*This post was inspired by my own experience with studying. If anyone is interested, I think I can share my mistakes that did not help me in an academic adventure :)

[evera-era]

my sweet girl.

ellie williams x afab!reader

warnings: friends to lovers, virgin reader, ellie has a praise + innocence kink, fingering, oral r!receiving, facesitting, fondling, lots of kissing, you talk her through it, fluff !!!!

a/n: kinktober week 2 is here! writing this had me feeling some typa way,, ellie would never admit it but she’s def a praise kink girly

Today was different. Not because you were doing anything out of the ordinary — because you weren’t. You were hanging out with your friend Ellie, as you usually did on the weekends.

But you noticed that you’d let your eyes linger on her for a bit too long. And she let her eyes linger on you, too. You wondered if she always did that; if you only noticed because you felt confident enough to stare a bit more today.

Truthfully, your crush on Ellie developed a while ago. You were almost sure that it was obvious, considering how easily you’d agree to her — on everything.

But Ellie didn’t seem to mind. Or maybe she just didn’t notice? Either way, she really liked your presence.

She made that apparent, albeit casual with it. Some days she showed up with a smile on her face and a movie tucked under her arm. Other times, she’d alter the schedule, sneakily pairing herself with you for patrols. If she noticed you at the pub, she’d greet you before handing you a freshly poured drink.

Ellie naturally gravitated to you. And you, her. Being around her just felt good. It was the sound of her voice that brought you back to the present.

“It’s nice out.” She murmurs, turning her head to the side to look at you. She was laying horizontally on your bed.

“Yeah,” You replied, leaning your head back against the headboard. “Should we go and do something?”

She presses her lips into a thin line, then shakes her head.

“Rather stay in here. With you.” She says calmly.

You smiled meekly. “Okay.”

You continued to doodle in her sketchbook. She let you borrow it sometimes, to practice your drawing. You’d tell her not to bother, that you’d never be nearly as good as she was. But she always insisted, and you accepted — at the least, she’d have something to remind her of you.

“Can I see?” She asks, noticing the way your sketch held your attention.

“It’s your sketchbook,” You joked, handing it to her.

She took it with gentle hands, holding it open so she could look at it properly. She flickered her eyes from the book to you. “This is good, Y/N.”

“I don’t know,” You sighed. “Just… a silly drawing.”

“Your drawings aren’t silly.” She responds. “I think it’s nice.”

You shrugged, looking down at your hands. She passes it back to you.

“Why don’t you tear it out when you’re done?” She says. “So you can put it up.”

“Here? In the room?” You say with furrowed brows. You didn’t realize it was kind of a dumb question until after.

Ellie nods. “C’mon, it’ll look nice. It is nice.”

You look down at her bashfully. “I feel like you’re lying.”

“Well… I’m not,” She states. “And if you don’t hang it up, then I will. At my place.”

Your eyes widen. You can feel your cheeks go warm as you tuck your hair behind your ear.

“You… you serious?” You ask.

“Do I look like I’m not?”

You felt your face blush even more. But you muster up the courage to slowly meet her gaze. Her eyes are set on you, and they don’t look away.

“You always look serious,” You comment, shyly.

“Yeah… that part’s true.” She says, looking down at your lap. “Still tryin’ to work on that.”

“It’s okay. I mean… I don’t mind how you look.” You cleared your throat, looking out the window. “You’re pretty, Ellie.”

Ellie could feel her heartbeat grow in her chest. Her gaze softens as she glances at you. Then she shifts to put her hands behind her head.

“You’re prettier,” She adds, kicking her foot. “You’re always… like, gentle, and stuff.”

“You don’t know that,” You say, grinning. “Maybe I’m just that way around you.”

“Oh yeah?” She smirks. “Guess I’m pretty lucky, huh?”

You giggled. “Only so far.”

The room gets quiet again. You swore that during times like these, you could hear her breathing.

“Can I ask you something?” She says, interrupting the silence.

You nodded, closing the sketchbook.

“Have you ever, like…” She sighs. “Dated anyone? Or did stuff?”

Your heart skips a beat at her question. Ellie had never asked about this kind of subject before. And you’d never expect it from her — she wasn’t the type to openly delve into gossip.

You fiddled your thumbs at the thought. Ellie must be quite curious.

“Dated, yeah.” You murmured. “Doing stuff… not really.”

“Oh.” She mumbles. “Is it just, like, not your thing… or…”

“No,” You sigh. “Moreso the person. I think I wanted to like them, but I didn’t really like them. They weren’t… a good match for me.”

Ellie nods. Another minute goes by before she looks back up at you.

“So, then… what’s a good match for you?”

You brought your knees up to your chest.

“It’s a secret,” You whisper playfully.

“Secret?” She feigns shock. “I thought we were being honest here!”

You laughed.

Deep down, you were scared to confess your feelings to Ellie. You didn’t wanna ruin a good thing. But she’s always been soft when it comes to you, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Do you really wanna know?” You questioned after a minute, looking back over at her.

She raises her eyebrows. “I— I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, or anything—“

“I’m not uncomfortable, Ellie,” You say. “Just… nervous, to like, say it.”

She watches you carefully. She swallows firmly, then folds her bottom lip beneath her teeth.

“Well… I wouldn’t… judge you, if you told me, you know.” She says quietly. “I might judge the person, but… not you.”

“That doesn’t really help, in this case.” You exhale shakily. Her eyes widen as she tries to figure out what you mean.

“Because… I like you,” You admit. “And… I think we would be a good match, Ellie.”

It’s quiet for a moment. A stray gust of wind blows through the window, causing the sheer curtains to sway gently. You maintained eye contact with the brunette, awaiting her answer.

“Did…” She clears her throat. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes.” You reply. “I’ve had a crush on you for a long time, now.”

When she looks at you, her expression isn’t hardened. She’s studying you, tenderly. You can almost see a sliver of hope in her eyes.

Her eyes flutter as she tries to form a coherent sentence. “Um—“

“But you—“ You look off to the side, fearful of rejection. “You don’t have to say anything, Els.”

“No, I—“ Ellie huffs. “I’ve had a crush on you, too, Y/N. Since the first time we talked.”

Your breathing becomes shallow. You look over at her again; her eyes haven’t left your face.

“R-Really?”

She nods carefully, lifting her finger to scratch the tip of her ear. “I just, I didn’t think you felt the same way about me.”

You laugh under your breath. “How could I not?”

Ellie wrinkles her lips, bashfully. “I’m… not very lovely. Kinda just… me, y’know.”

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, so you were laying next to her in a similar position now. You rest your chin against your palm.

“I think you’re very lovely, Ellie.” You whisper. “And I like you a lot.”

She smiles, looking down at your lips. Her eyelashes flutter again. When her voice comes out, it’s like a whisper.

“Could… can I—“

“Yeah,” You cut her off, not even waiting to give her permission.

Ellie takes another moment to study your lips before propping herself up. At first she leaves her hands on the bed, but then she decides to cup the side of your face. She caresses your cheek with her thumb slowly — she wants to savor this moment — and listens to the sound of her heart beating.

She doesn’t want to close her eyes, but she thinks it’d be weird if she doesn’t, so she settles on doing so. Her nose brushes up against yours as her lips press gently against your own.

She kisses you like if she kisses any harder, you’d break. You can feel her holding her breath, trying to do it right. She pulls away after a few seconds.

“Was…” She exhales. “Was that okay?”

You nod, your lips spreading into a smile. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I know, I know.” She looks down at your lips again. “Just… didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

“You can’t fuck up a kiss,” You reply. “Unless… wait, is this your first time?”

“No— shit, did it seem like it?” She asks with wide eyes.

“No, no.” You giggle. “But you’re so nervous, I—“

“‘Cause— you— you’re so fucking pretty,” She retorts, facepalming as she blushes. “It’s hard.”

You bite your lip, tucking a stray piece of her away from her face. “Then do it again.”

Her eyes light up. “Yeah?”

“As many times as you want,” You murmur. “Why not?”

Ellie could feel warmth swell in her chest. This is why she loved being around you. You never made her feel bad for being the way she is. And yet, you somehow gave her the encouragement that made her feel like she could do anything in the world.

She doesn’t talk this time. Merely takes a breath, then leans in. She kisses you slow, taking the time to actually feel your lips. They were soft and sweet, just like you. Ellie swears she could stay right here forever.

When she pulls away, she keeps her eyes closed as she steadies her breathing. “Better?”

“Yeah,” You reply. “Let’s do it some more.”

If you had opened your eyes, you would have seen the way Ellie looked at you before you grabbed her face. But you didn’t, and she’s thankful, because she’s frozen in place for the first few seconds.

You had your hands in her hair as you pulled her top lip between yours. The tiniest moan escapes from her throat as she tries her best to re-focus and kiss you back. After a moment, she pulls away by a centimeter, then turns her head to the other side.

The two of you kiss several more times before she draws back. You look at her with expectant eyes.

“I—“ She stutters. “I’ve gotta… if we keep going, I’m not gonna wanna stop.”

“So don’t,” You explain, leaning to kiss her again. She pulls away.

“No, I mean…” Her face flushes even more. “God, this is so fucking embarrassing.”

At first you’re confused, but when your eyes flash down, you realize what she meant. Her nipples are poking through her shirt. She has her hands pulling at her button-up, trying to cover them.

You gently grab her wrists.

“Hey, it’s okay—“

“It’s not,” She insists. “I… I feel like a fuckin’ pervert. It’s only a fucking kiss, and I’m getting turned on—“

“Ellie—“

“I’m ruining it—“

“Ellie.” You say sternly, holding her hands still. “You’re not ruining anything, okay? It’s fine. If… if that’s what your body’s telling you, then…”

She watches you deliberately. “Then what?”

“Then… we could try it,” You whisper. “If you want.”

“Wh—“ She stutters. “But, what do you want? I don’t want you to feel like I’m going too fast—“

“I’m fine, Ellie. Promise.” You say. “I wanna try it, too.”

A damp spot began to form in Ellie’s underwear. She was so careful not to come on too strong, and here you were, practically begging her to take you all the way. She was shocked. Her head felt like it was spinning.

“You… you want me to be your first?”

You nodded.

“I— I don’t know if I can do that.” She blinks a few times before clarifying herself. “Not that I don’t want to — I really, really fucking want to — but I just, I don’t know if I’m gonna be good enough for you.”

“You’re already good enough for me,” You mumble, staring at her lips again.

“I mean it, Y/N, I—“ She sighs. “I don’t want your first time to be any less than perfect.”

“And it won’t be, as long as it’s with you.” You stroke her shoulder. “I… I want this, Ellie.”

She stares at you, still concerned.

“And even still, I’ll totally show you. I… I can tell you what feels good.”

After hearing you say that, Ellie swears her panties become a pool. She never thought about this before. She never thought about you telling her how to please you. Letting her know when she’s doing you right, and hitting the right spot. She can only imagine how pretty your voice would sound as she’s tongue deep in your cu—

“Ellie?” You say, bringing her out of her head. “If you changed your mind—“

“No, I—“ She places her hand on the back of your neck. “I’d never. I was just thinking.”

You smile. “Okay. Well, I’m right here, when you wanna start doing instead of thinking.”

She smirks to herself, nodding before removing her button up and tossing it on the floor. She’s wearing a black undershirt underneath, which fit tight around her upper arms. You resist the urge to whistle lowly.

“Lookin’ good, Els.”

She grins sheepishly. “I guess.”

Her hair droops down into her face as she slowly gets on top of you.

“Should’ve gotten a hair tie.”

“I’ll hold it for you,” You say, quickly moving your hands up to hold her hair back.

She leans down, grinning into your lips. “Thanks.”

She’s more confident when she kisses you this time. For the first few, it’s close-lipped, and then she feels the urge to explore. She swipes her tongue across your lower lip, and you copy her. She takes it as an invitation into your mouth, and she quickly begins toying with your tongue.

You vocalize a moan, which comes out awkwardly muffled. But Ellie didn’t care. She liked where this was going.

She uses her thumb to pull your mouth open even more. Her kissing becomes desperate, as if she needed you to breathe. You struggled to fully hold her hair as her movements became more passionate, but you tried anyway.

When she pulls away, a small string of spit connects the two of you. She emits a low groan at the sight.

“Fuck,” She whispers. “You’re so pretty like this.”

You look up at her with lustful eyes. “Can you take my clothes off?”

She stares at you before complying, gently pulling your shirt over your head. Her hands trail down the front of your body before hooking under your pant loop and pulling down. You decide to help her when it came to removing your panties.

When she’s done undressing you, she takes the time to fully look at the sight before her. Your bare body was glistening under the fading sunlight. She never thought she’d get the chance to see you under her, much less naked.

“You too,” You add, gesturing to her tank top. She nods before disrobing as well.

She looks down at your body. “Do you want—“

“Ellie,” You interrupt, reaching up to fondle her. Her breasts were perky, and her nipples a pale shade of pink. You eventually slide your hands down onto her hips. “You’ve been hiding all this beauty the whole time?”

She blushes again, speechless from your sudden compliment.

“God.” You whisper. “Ellie, you— your body… it’s stunning.”

Any previous train of thought is cleared from Ellie’s mind. She has no idea what to think or say, or even how to speak, for that matter. All she knows is that, if she���s not careful, she might cum from your words alone.

So she leans down instead, pressing her nose to your chest. She inhales your scent before tilting up and wrapping her lips around your breast. If she was honest, she didn’t want just your nipple — she wants to consume it all. Her other hand massages your other tit.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you gently pulled on her scalp. The sensations she’s giving you made you gasp, thighs pressing together on their own.

She eventually switches over to the other side, and does the same thing. This time, she flits her green eyes up at you, carefully watching the faces you make. She drags her free hand down from the side of your breast to your waist, squeezing gently.

“Everything okay?” She whispers.

“Y-Yeah,” You whimper, looking down at her. “That felt really nice.”

She pulls away, leaning forward for one more kiss.

“Can I go down on you?” She asks quietly.

You hum in agreement, and she grins. She brings herself down til her face is just below your bellybutton.

“Smells so good,” She says, placing a small kiss on your pelvis. You prop yourself up against your elbows so you can get a better view looking down.

“I’m gonna lick it a bit,” She says softly. “Wanna know if it feels good.”

“Okay,” You grin.

The first stroke of her tongue is drawn out, almost painfully so. Your mouth watered. You craved the stimulation so bad, it was hard to remind yourself to be patient. But you knew Ellie had more experience than you, so it’s not worth rushing.

The licks after begin feeling much better against your skin. Ellie moaned a few times into your pussy, each noise making you gently rock yourself down against her mouth.

“Fuck—“

She pulls back, only by a centimeter. “Tastes like heaven.”

“Your tongue feels like heaven,” You reply. “It’s— it’s amazing—“

When she goes back in again, she begins to try different techniques. She creates a suction on your cunt while flicking her tongue against your clit. She also just kisses it, making out with it like she’d make out with you.

You told her you’d give her advice and yet, she didn’t need any. Everything she did just felt so fucking good.

“S’ good.” You drawl, rubbing your thigh against the side of her neck. “Want your tongue down there forever.”

Ellie’s own cunt throbs as she hears those words. She hums gently into your pussy, kissing it for a few more minutes before looking up at you.

“What else do you wanna try?”

You look around for a moment. “I— I was… well, I don’t know if you’d wanna.”

“Wanna what, baby?” She asks. “Tell me.”

“Could…” You sigh. “Could I sit on your face? You know what I mean, right? Not actually sit, but—“

She chuckles a bit. “Yeah, I know. But you could just sit on it, too.”

Ellie flips over so she’s on her back. You lean forward and crawl to where she is before scrunching your lips. “What if you couldn’t breathe?”

“Then I’d die happy,” She replies, giving two light taps on your ass. You take it as a signal to lower yourself down on her.

Something about having you on top of her flips a switch in Ellie. She begins absolutely devouring you like Thanksgiving dinner, arms caging you in so you can’t move away.

“Holy shit,” You grunt. Ellie continues to lap up your juices, licking and sucking them down.

You run your fingers through her sweaty hair. “Mm— fuck. That’s so good, Els. Feels so fuckin’ good.”

Ellie’s losing her mind at the praise. Her hand absentmindedly falls between her legs. She’s needy in the way she fingers her pussy, before getting an idea.

She reaches up and grabs your hand, then gently guides it towards her slick cunt. Unsure of what to do, you begin rubbing circles. It seems to work — Ellie’s breathing becomes heavier and heavier as she continues eating you out.

While Ellie sucks on your clit, you form a rhythm on hers. You try to stay consistent, but it’s hard to focus. You can feel a ball of pressure forming deep in your tummy.

“Ellie,” You groan out, using your other hand to stabilize yourself for support. “I— I think you might make me cum.”

Unconsciously, you grind down on Ellie’s tongue. Your hand remains on her clit as she reaches down and begins pumping her fingers in and out of her hole.

“Cum for me, baby.” She mumbles against your cunt. “Wanna taste it.”

“Yeah?” You whine.

You weren’t sure what made you say your next words, or where it even came from, but it comes out while you’re riding her face.

“Gonna— gonna be a good girl ‘nd make me cum?”

“Fuck, yes,” She grunts, palm tightening around your ass.

Hearing you talk like that instantly makes her a thousand times wetter. She begins sucking on your clit more ferociously as you move your hand to push your hair out of your face.

“So good— you’re makin’ me feel so good, Ellie.” You mewl, feeding her reaction to your words. “This pussy’s all for you. Nobody else.”

A guttural moan comes out from Ellie. You weren’t sure if the compliments were too much, or if she could breathe properly, but you noticed the way she was fingering herself became stronger and more sloppy.

She pulled you down into her mouth, eyes rolled back into her head while she continued to absolutely abuse your pussy with her tongue.

“Oh— J-Just like that,” You stutter. “Fuck— please— just like that, just like that—“

When you erupt on her tongue, you feel unsteady. Your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably as your face scrunches up in pleasure. But Ellie keeps a firm hold on you, relishing in the way you tremble under her touch. She gets off soon after, tightening and pulsing around her own two fingers.

She gets in a few more kisses with your pussy before speaking. “Shit, baby.”

You giggle, letting out a deep breath. “That was… really hot.”

“You’re really hot,” She says, looking up at you and planting one last kiss on your clit. You blush.

“Didn’t know what I was missing out on.” You murmur, climbing off of her. “I… I can’t believe I didn’t do this sooner.”

Ellie thinks for a moment before sitting up. She smiles. “I’m really glad you didn’t.”

“Me, too.” You reply.

You lean in once more, placing another kiss on her lips before turning her cheek and kissing her, there, too. Ellie grabs your hand and presses her lips to the back of it.

“My sweet girl.” She whispers. “I’m so glad I could make you mine.”