#Remy Rides Again

[fountainpenguin]

I've been working on some other posts that delve into the rich families in FOP, so take some thoughts that've been eating at me out of context.

It is unfathomable to me how much better of a parent Dale is than both Remy’s parents combined.

Timmy wished for Remy to have more time to spend with his parents, and the universe decided that meant shipwrecking them together was the only possible way they wouldn't question spending time with their son. And according to Remy in "Remy Rides Again," that worked for 3 seconds before they ditched him despite all being shipwrecked on an island together, fighting for survival.

Dale just spends time with his son for free. He is paid $0 to do so... Yes, he's distracted and inattentive to him, but he lets Dev be near him. He gives him tasks... He explains things when Dev asks him questions. He greets his son when he comes home from being outside and asks how his afternoon was.

Wishing Dale had more time for his son is no guarantee good things would happen, but I don't think a shipwreck would've been required. He'd just... come out of his room.

Dale can absolutely be a better parent, and his neglect should not be excused, but comparatively... he is a functioning parent.

I think Remy's parents would pay someone to bury their son unmarked in the woods, but I do not think you could convince Dale to do that to Dev no matter how much you offered him. He's messed up, but he's not THAT messed up. That's his little guy! He's a Dimmadome...

Family history - and family future - is important to Dale in a way that it's straight-up not to the Buxaplentys, and that makes all the difference. Dale sends Dev to a private school (implied) and canonically makes donations to that school ("28 Puddings Later").

Like… Remy KNOWS his parents think he's a waste of time and space. They make this clear to him when they remind him he's not worth more than 2 minutes per day of their time. They can't even remember his name. At the end of "Fairy Fairy Quite Contrary," Remy was delighted his dad called him Liam. Because it's wrong, but it was better than nothing.

Remy is literally the reason his parents survived. He foraged for food for them while they counted the money that survived the shipwreck. He's 11... That should not have been his responsibility.

Dale is always calling Dev by name. He also built the au pairs to look after him (implied), he takes Dev to events, he remembered his birthday this year and made an attempt to do something nice even if he couldn't be there in person…

Dev appreciates his dad and tells us flat-out he thinks he's cool... That's why finding out his dad cared more about boots broke his heart.

Remy wouldn't have bat an eye because it wouldn't have surprised him that his parents care more about money. He makes it very clear that he was still wearing rags when his mom opened a hotel. She was too, but still... He was just out there wandering the beach with a ripped-up shirt and no shoes and all she thought about was money...

Holy flip, the Buxaplentys are so bad...

[imaginedisish]

Unchained Melody (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Get ready to cry again. Here is the *what if you and Logan went to a wedding together* request. Heavily inspired by "Unchained Melody." That is such a Logan song and you cannot tell me otherwise. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan decide to go to Rogue and Remy's wedding together, but you don't know what together means. Logan helps to clarify...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT, thigh riding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), softdom!Logan, praise kink, cocky!Logan (literally), multiple orgasms, aftercare, Logan will do anything for you, afab!reader/f!reader, reader wears a dress, reader has hair (length/color/texture not described), feelings, so fluffy and cheesy, cursing, Scott is a little shit, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,452 I wanna dance with Logan

Maybe this was a mistake. You look at yourself in the mirror, turning around and around. You scan your face, check your hair, and smooth out your dress. Everything is in its right place. But, maybe, just maybe, this is all a mistake. 

You and Logan—somehow—came to the decision that you would go to Rogue and Remy’s wedding together. As in…

Together. 

And yet, you weren’t entirely sure what together truly entailed. Was this going to be a date? Or were you two simply going as friends? Friends friends friends. That god-awful, misery-inducing word you’re all too familiar with. Its meaning and restrictions haunted you as you got ready, and they’re still plaguing you now. You are so incredibly sick of being just friends with Logan. You want more—want him, all of him. But you can’t tell him how you feel—you can never find the words or the courage. 

So, you’re simply going to the wedding together, unlabeled out of fear of getting an answer you don’t want to hear. 

You slip on your heels, straightening out your gown one last time before heading towards the door. You take a deep breath, nervous beyond belief. You twist the knob, pulling the door open. 

And there he is on the other side, fist clenched like he was about to knock. Logan. He’s wearing a black suit, a bowtie tied perfectly at his neck. You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Hi,” he husks, his eyes trailing up and down your body. He smiles softly as he meets your gaze. He shakes his head in awe. “You look beautiful.” 

“Oh, please I—” But he cuts you off, his hand reaching out to rest in the crook of your neck. “Really, you look beautiful. You always do.” Your breath hitches as his hand slides down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours.

You take a deep breath, suddenly overwhelmed by the contact and Logan’s words. “You look really great too,” you choke out, a slight tremble in your voice. “Perfect,” you say, and Logan tugs your hand, guiding you out the door and into the hallway.

Rogue had told you the wedding would be small—just her and Gambit’s closest friends and family on the grounds of the institute.  

Logan leads you down the stairs and out the back door of the mansion. The first thing you see are flowers; an absolute abundance of flowers. There are lilies and irises, asters and chrysanthemums. Daises, tulips, every single flower one can imagine—adorning tables, white tents, and planted in pots and boxes. It’s beautiful—a rainbow of colors and fragrances. The lawn has been transformed into a secret garden. 

Logan guides you down a cobblestone path toward a trellis covered in vines and wisteria. Surrounding the trellis on either side are rows of white, wooden chairs. You and Logan walk to the front row on Rogue’s side of the aisle and sit down next to Storm, Charles, and Jubilee.  You wave as you sit down. “You look amazing!” Jubilee shouts, reaching over Charles and Logan to get a better look at your dress. 

“You look beautiful too, Jubes,” you say, motioning in her direction. Logan sits back, slipping his hand from yours and draping his arm over your shoulder instead. Jubilee notices the movement, her eyes flickering between you and Logan, a small smile playing upon her lips. She winks at you and settles back into her seat. 

Footsteps sweep through the grass as people find their chairs. You struggle to ignore the warmth of Logan’s arm around your shoulder and the way it makes you feel—the soft circles he’s drawing into your bare skin. It’s like he needs the proximity, needs the touch. 

You can feel Logan lean in, his lips at the shell of your ear. “You are the most—”

“Wow,” a familiar voice interrupts Logan. You turn your head, and there’s Scott, with Jean just a few steps behind him. “Didn’t expect that.” He raises his brows and cocks his head to the side. 

“You need something, bub?” Logan asks, annoyance and irritation heavy in his voice. 

Scott swallows nervously as Jean chuckles behind him. He shakes his head and sits down next to you. “Nope, I just…” He trails off, looking towards the trellis. 

Logan leans forward, his arm still around your shoulder. “You just what?”

Scott throws his hands up, feigning innocence. “Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

Logan leans back, squeezing your shoulder gently as he settles into the seat. You turn towards him, catching his gaze. You need to ask him what this is, even if it’s clear to him. It’s obviously something to everyone else. You part your lips, finding the courage to finally ask Logan what you two are. “Logan,” you whisper so only he can hear. “What is—"  

But the music starts up, a whimsical rendition of “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” filling the air as Hank walks down the aisle, stopping underneath the trellis. Next is Remy, in a cream-colored suit. He grins from ear to ear as he trails down the aisle, nodding to Charles as he steps under the arch. And finally, at the end of the aisle is Rogue. Her dress is bright white, lacey, and tight. She walks down, her bouquet of lilies of the valley and baby’s breath in hand. 

She meets Remy’s side, and the music stops. “Friends and family,” Hank starts, smiling widely at the crowd. “We have gathered here today for the marriage of two people who should have been married long ago.” The crowd chuckles as Hank goes on. “But it is always better late than never…”

He continues, talking about their story, their love. Hank—naturally—finds a few Shakespeare quotes to scatter throughout his speech. It’s incredibly cheesy, but it’s beautiful. And, as Remy and Rogue exchange vows, you can’t help but well up. Their admiration and passion for one another is so undeniably clear. They’re committed, a team, partners until the end. 

“I will always love you, chere,” Remy says, slipping the ring onto Rogue’s finger. 

A single tear slides down Rogue’s cheek. “And I will always love you, sugar,” Rogue says, placing the ring in her hand onto Remy’s finger next. 

You look up at Logan, and you notice that he’s looking down at you. There’s something in his eyes, but you can’t quite place it. He tugs you closer, his thumb still stroking your shoulder. 

Hank sniffles. “With the power vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Hank says, his voice shaky, his eyes glossed over, holding back tears. “You may now kiss the bride!” 

Remy wraps his arms around Rogue’s waist, and he dips her, his lips capturing hers. Everyone stands, clapping and cheering. You and Logan stand too, his arm falling from your shoulder, leaving you feeling cold despite the summer heat.

But as Rogue and Remy walk down the aisle, Logan’s arm wraps around your waist.  Rogue’s smile widens when she spots you, her eyes flitting between you and Logan. She laughs knowingly. Finally, she mouths to you, and blows you a kiss. The couple finishes their walk down the aisle, and they head into a nearby tent.  

Given that this is Rogue and Remy, the party starts right away. Music blares from the tent, and you can see the happy couple hitting the floor. You recognize the song immediately: “Take on Me” by Aha. Jean drags Scott across the grass to join them. Jubilee and some of the other kids trail behind. Charles, Storm, and Hank head over together. 

You look at Logan and smile, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him towards the tent. You can’t remember the last time you saw everyone this happy. It’s rare that you get to let loose, to have a good time. It warms your heart to see all the students dancing, to see them having a normal childhood experience. 

“Come on!” Jubilee calls. “Come dance!” She’s twirling around, dancing with Kurt and Morph, sparking her signature fireworks every now and then.

You squeeze Logan’s hand and pull him towards the dance floor. You’re shocked that he doesn’t drag his heels, that he doesn’t protest or tell you no—he lets you tug him onto the floor. You turn to face him, swaying to the synthy pop. Logan lifts his arm, twirling you around, laughing as you spin back to him. He grabs your other hand and bounces with you to the music.

“I didn’t know you liked dancing!” You shout over the song as Logan spins you again. 

He smirks, chuckling softly. “I don’t!” He shouts back, pulling you in and out to the beat. “But I like dancing with you.” He draws you in closer, letting go of your hands as his arms wrap around your waist instead.

You can feel the heat rising to your chest, spreading up your neck. The song fades out, and a much slower one starts up. “Something” by The Beatles echoes across the lawn. Rogue and Remy take the center of the floor, and everyone steps off, watching from the side. Logan guides you off the floor and towards your table, his hand in yours again.

“They’re beautiful,” you murmur. You see the way Remy looks at Rogue, the way they move as one, fluid unit. “Don’t you want something like that?” You ask, your gaze finding Logan’s. He has that look in his eyes again—all soft, relaxed, happy. 

Logan nods, squeezing your hand. “I think I’ve found it already.” 

Your lips part as you rack your brain for the right thing to say, your breath catching in your throat. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted—the words you’ve been waiting to hear. “Logan I—”

But Jubilee is grabbing your hand as the song changes. “If you’re not gonna dance with my girl, then I’m stealing her!” Jubilee calls out to Logan, pulling you onto the floor as “Can’t Take My Eyes off You” by Frankie Valli rings out. 

“Jubes,” you protest. “Logan and I were actually talking about something kind of important and—”

“One song?” She begs, frowning, putting on her best puppy dog eyes. You look over at Logan, and he’s still standing where you left him, smiling widely. Dance with her, he mouths, arching his brows expectantly. 

“Fine,” you say, still looking at Logan. 

Jubilee cheers, taking your hands in hers, spinning you around. You jump with her, screaming the words. Logan watches from his seat. He loves the way you move, the way you shake your hips, the way you throw your head back and laugh. He can see how much fun you’re having, how happy you are. He can’t keep his eyes off you, can’t help but be mesmerized. And he knows—just by watching—that he wants to be with you forever. Longer than that. You’ve changed him, made him different. And all for the better. 

You look over at him, his arms crossed against his chest as his eyes follow your every move. He’s smiling widely, clearly getting a kick out of you. 

“He loves you, you know,” Jubilee says, twirling you. “I mean, just look at how he’s looking at you!” Jubilee smirks, nodding towards Logan. Her eyes widen. “I think he’s coming over here!”

“Jubes…” Logan chides as he steps closer to the two of you. “Think I can cut in?”

“I don’t know Logan,” Jubilee says sarcastically, grinning ear to ear. “We’re having a great time.”

Logan puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’d like my girl back now.” 

My girl. His girl. 

Jubilee lifts her hands, stepping away from you as the song fades out. “Fine,” she says, pretending to be heartbroken. “Guess I’ll just have to give her up.” Logan steps between the two of you, and you lean to the side to peer at Jubilee as she walks away. She catches your glance, thrusting two thumbs up, mouthing a You got this! as she wanders to her seat. 

“Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers starts up, and Logan wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest. The sun is setting in the distance, a honeyed glow washing across the lawn, painting the tent and the dance floor in golden light. Logan sways you from side to side, and you let your head fall to his shoulder. 

His lips find the shell of your ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers so that only you can hear. 

“Lo, before, when we were watching Remy and Rogue…” you pause, lifting your head to look up at him. 

The corners of his mouth turn up. “I meant what I said,” Logan rasps. “I want you.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Just you.”

“I want you too,” you say, your voice soft and breathy. Logan holds you tighter, his lips just inches away from yours. You can feel his breath fan across your face. 

“Wanted you the whole time,” Logan husks, rocking you gently as the song plays out. “You’re all I ever think about. I can’t get through a day without seeing you, without talking to you.” He pauses as the music grows louder, the strings and piano echoing across the dance floor.

Woah, my love, my darling I've hungered, hungered for your touch A long, lonely time And time goes by so slowly And time can do so much Are you still mine?

“You feel like home,” he says, his eyes glossing over. “I’ve been alive a long time, and for once in my life, I finally understand what that word means. It’s you. This is what love is supposed to feel like.” He pauses again, taking a deep breath, his jaw working. “I love you, so goddamn much.”

“I love you too,” you confess. “More than anything.” 

And then his lips are on yours, and suddenly everything is nothing. The people around you are gone. Your problems have long melted away. Every ounce of pain and every second of suffering you’ve ever felt—that he has ever experienced—are forgotten. It’s all warmth and comfort, languid and slow, but passionate. He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. It’s perfect. Beyond perfect. 

His lips part from yours, and he looks down at you, taking you in, committing the moment to memory. “Pretty girl,” Logan mumbles, tugging you off the floor as the song fades out and a pop song starts up. “What if we slipped away for a few minutes?” 

“O-okay,” you stutter as Logan guides you past your table and out of the tent. The bass of the music echoes across the lawn as you and Logan wander hand in hand toward the mansion.  

He pushes the back door open, leading the two of you inside, and immediately pins you against the wall. “This okay, sweetheart?” Logan asks, holding your hands above your head, his fingers wrapping tightly around your wrists. 

“Yes,” you breathe, your chest heaving against his. He closes the gap between you completely, his lips pressing to yours. It’s hurried now, hungry and frantic. His knee nudges between your legs, spreading you open. You can feel the fire burning in your core—the growing ache. 

You squirm underneath him, your arms fidgeting against his hold, longing to reach out and touch him. “Wanna make you feel good first, princess,” Logan soothes, his grip on your wrists tightening. “Let me take care of you.” You can’t help but grind down on his thigh at his words. 

“Lo,” you whine, searching for more friction. “Please, need you.” Logan swallows your moans with a kiss, his lips melting against yours. “I know, darlin’. I need you too,” he coos. “But I like watching you get off on my thigh,” he says cockily. “That feel good?” He pushes his thigh harder between your legs as you slide up and down. 

“Y-yes,” you stammer, rolling your hips. “N-need more.” 

“I know, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Logan whispers, leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw to your neck, softly biting that sweet spot underneath your ear. “Gonna make this pussy feel good.” He lets go of your wrists as he slides down your body, hiking your dress up above your hips as he kneels in front of you.

Logan yanks your panties down your legs, leaving your core bare in front of him. “Wanna taste you, pretty girl,” he husks, his breath fanning against your heat as he settles between your thighs. 

“Please,” you beg, his face just centimeters from where you need him most. His palms splay across your inner thighs, squeezing and nudging you open. You look down at him, hunger, desire, and desperation darkening his half-lidded eyes. “Lo—”

And then he’s licking a long stripe through your folds, his tongue flicking your clit. You shudder underneath his touch as he does it again, his tongue pressing harder this time. 

“Tastes so fucking good,” Logan mumbles against you. “Knew you’d taste perfect.” He pulls your clit between his lips and sucks, his teeth grazing the bud lightly. Your knees buckle at the sensation. 

Logan pushes your legs further apart, one of his hands sliding up your thigh and toward your center. It’s teasing, achingly slow as his fingers finally reach your folds, toying with your slit and spreading your slick. He laps at your clit, and he’s desperate, ravenous, his mouth swallowing you hungrily.

He teases your entrance with two fingers—gentle compared to the way his teeth graze your clit, to the way he’s sucking every last drop you have to give him. You part your lips, ready to beg for him, but he’s thrusting his long fingers inside you—down to his knuckles—only to pull out and pump back in again. 

You moan his name, your back arching off the wall, your thighs trembling as he fucks into you. Logan smiles against you. “That feel good, pretty girl?” He asks, his fingers pumping in and out of your entrance at a rhythmic pace.

“S-so good, Logan,” you say, your voice shaky and uneven. His tongue flits out, flicking your clit before his lips wrap around the bud. He sucks again, harder this time, longer, his face buried deep inside your cunt, like he needs this. Needs to feel every inch of you. To explore you. To remember you. Your heart thunders in your chest as he thrusts in and out, his fingers hitting that sweet spot deep inside every time. 

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him, taking him deeper. Logan laughs against you, the vibration rolling through your body in waves. “I know you’re getting closer, pretty girl,” Logan whispers, lapping at you between sentences. He looks up at you under those dark, hooded eyes as he plunges into you. “Let me get you there, wanna taste it when you come.”

You flutter around him again, his words threatening to spill the heat building at the bottom of your belly. “Lo,” you whimper as he brings a third finger to your entrance. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, say my name,” he demands, shoving the third finger deep inside on his next pump. 

“F-fuck,” you stutter, your legs shaking as you chant his name. Logan Logan Logan. 

“So fucked out that I’m all you can think about, huh?” Logan teases, edging you closer along. You moan in affirmation as Logan laves at you, stuffing his fingers deep inside. “So fucking beautiful,” he praises. “Doing so good for me.”

“L-Lo,” you choke out, clenching down around him. “I’m so close.”

You can feel yourself coming undone, melting into nothingness as he rams into you, sucking your clit roughly. “I know, princess. Let go for me, wanna feel you come on my fingers.”

Your hips buck and your legs tremble as you fall apart. Your orgasm crashes into you, pleasure coursing through your veins. Logan works you through it, his face still buried between your legs. His tongue laps at you softly, his fingers pumping slowly until they stall inside you. 

His gaze meets yours as he pulls his fingers out of your cunt and brings them to his mouth. His lips wrap around his fingers, and he sucks, savoring your release. He pulls his fingers out with a pop as he stands up. 

Logan presses his forehead to yours. “You know, there’s something else I want,” Logan says, his voice deep and raspy. “I’m not done with you yet.” He cages you in, a hand on either side of your head. 

“W-we need to be careful,” you stammer, nodding towards the door. “Someone could come in and—” Logan cuts you off. “Locked it the second we came inside, sweetheart,” Logan whispers, grabbing your dress and bunching it up around your waist. “No one’s coming in here. It’s just you and me, princess.” Logan pushes his hips into yours, and you can feel his erection straining against the fabric of his slacks. “Need you, darlin’.”

You wrap your arms around Logan’s back. “Need you too,” you pant. Logan’s lips find yours, crashing down needily, starvingly. He swallows your moans, one hand still collecting the fabric of your dress while his other tugs at his belt. He throws it to the floor with a clink and works at his button and zipper, pulling his pants and boxers down his legs. He hoists you up, one hand gripping your ass tightly, pushing your back against the wall for leverage.

“Fuck,” Logan curses, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance. Everything is rushed and frantic. He needs to be inside you, needs to feel you, needs to be as close to you as possible. His head slides through your folds, spreading your slick. “Wanted this for so long,” Logan huffs, his tip slipping into your slit. “My girl.”

With one thrust, he sinks himself deep inside you—down to the hilt. You’re suddenly so full, so whole. “Yours,” you answer as he pulls out and thrusts back in, somehow deeper this time. He’s everywhere and he’s everything. “All yours.”

Logan curses under his breath, panting your name as he sets a brutal pace. “Mine,” he growls between placing open-mouthed kisses to the crook of your neck. “All fucking mine.” His free hand slips between your bodies, finding your clit and drawing tight, rapid circles around the bud. 

You dig your nails into his suit jacket as he splits you open. You want to feel him—to feel his skin, his chest pressed against yours. But this will have to do for now. 

“Next time,” he mumbles, knowing exactly what you’re silently asking for. “You can have more of me next time, okay sweetheart?”

Next time. The words replay in your head as he fucks into you, taking everything you have to give. He knows you so well, already knows every curve and inch of your body, knows your dreams and desires. You fit, like two puzzle pieces, like magnets finally drawing together. 

His thumb brushes your clit soothingly before pinching roughly, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. Logan thrusts in and out, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin against skin echoing throughout the foyer. 

“Feels so good, pretty girl,” Logan groans. “So fucking perfect, so tight.” Your walls flutter around him, and he grunts as you squeeze him. “Taking me so well.” 

You’re already close, every thrust bringing you to the edge, every flick of your clit sending you spiraling. It’s all too much. And it’s all because of him. 

“Lo,” you whine, his hips rocking into yours, his cock dragging along your walls. “I’m so…” You trail off, squeezing him again, taking him deeper. 

He moans your name, sinking inside you and pulling back out. “I know, princess, me too,” he murmurs, his pace faltering, his hips sputtering. “Come on my cock, wanna feel it,” he pants. “Wanna feel you. Forever.”

And then the tension snaps, heat spilling out of you as Logan thrusts again. He’s throbbing inside you, close behind. Pleasure pulses through your body, wave after wave. You wrap your legs tighter around Logan’s waist, keeping him close as he spills inside you, filling you up. He chants your name, his forehead pressing to yours, looking deep into your eyes as he comes undone.

Your chests heave together, sharing the same breath. His cock is still inside you. Everything is calm. Quiet. “So perfect,” Logan breathes, his lips finding yours again. “So fucking perfect.” He finally slips out of you and sets you down on the ground, keeping your dress bunched up around your waist. 

He leans over to the side, grabs a paper towel from a conveniently placed nearby roll, and sinks down to his knees. He’s cleaning you up, taking care of you, wiping away the mess spilling down your legs. He pulls your panties back up and kisses each of your thighs before standing and tossing the paper towel into the garbage by the door. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, letting your dress go. He fixes each of your straps, straightening them out, and smooths out your dress. “Beautiful,” he praises, swallowing harshly, as if he’s holding himself back from reaching out and taking you again. Part of you wishes he would.

But he bends over and pulls his pants and boxers up, tucking in his shirt, zippering and buttoning his slacks, and securing his belt back in place. He’s still a little disheveled—sweat on his brow, his hair out of place. But he looks perfect. He looks just like him. 

“You ready to go back out?” He asks, taking your hand in his. You nod and let him lead you outside and towards the tent. 

You find your seats just as dinner is being served. “Where’d you two go?” Scott asks, arching a brow. 

“Got a little too hot,” Logan says, smirking to himself. He finds your thigh under the table, squeezing gently, possessively. “Needed a break from the heat.”

You hum in affirmation, turning your head towards Logan. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “That’s one way to put it,” you whisper so that only he can hear. 

He squeezes your thigh again, harder this time. His lips find the shell of your ear as the rest of the table starts up a conversation. “You’re coming back to my room tonight,” he husks. “Got it?” You can feel the heat rising to your chest as he separates from you. 

You nod, his hand still on your thigh. 

“Good, because I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @starfleetteddybear @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr @cosmiccandydreamer @Movhoney.

[dinogoofymutated]

You want X-Men requests? Well, I think I've got a few kicking around for our favorite Cajun.

Ok, so this is NSFW but like...imagine overstimulated Gambit to the point where he can only speak garbled French? Idk, I think that's super hot.

YES OMG YES. I absolutely love this idea I ran with it SO QUICK! I'm Southern, but not necessarily the Cajun flavor of Southern, so I tried to use a translator/dictionary for Cajun-French. There's not really a translator for cajun dialect specifically, so forgive me for some mistakes. I tried my best ;-;

Tw: MDNI. NSFW. Creampie, Overstim, Praise kink (kinda). Reader written while picturing AFAB but no genitals specified. No pronouns specified. Soft dom!reader

Anyone looking outside-in on Gambit's relationships would think that the man is a player, due to his flirty nature, and he could be to an extent, but you know otherwise.

Remy LeBeau was a lover boy. Sure he showed out a lot by flirting, but at the end of the day it's you he's coming home to. The moment someone tries to make a move on him and flirting goes to touching, you know he's shutting that shit down quick.

He was all talk, and you were happy to find out that extends to the bedroom.

Now having said this, it's not that Remy was a liar. He's incredible at sex, but at the end of the day when he's with someone he truly loves, his walls come down. Loverboy was putty in your hands the moment you decided to grace him with your love and praise.

"Plus, donnez-m'en un de plus, s'il vous plaît." Remy is trembling underneath you, head tossed back into the pillow and twitching inside you still as he cums hard. His hands are clenched around your thighs, grip loose enough for you to grind on him slowly as he comes down from his high.

"Remy, I can't understand you." You say softly, cocking your head at him as you brush some hair out of his face. He leans into your touch, chest still heaving. He mumbles something else you can't quite catch, before repeating "donnez-m'en un de plus, donnez-m'en un de plus." Again and again.

"Reeemmmy~" You smile, rocking back against him just slightly to make him groan and curse, before leaning forward to kiss him on the chin. He tries to catch you in a real kiss, but you don't let him, choosing to hover over his lips teasingly. "English, please, sweetheart."

"Je commence Cher, don't tease." Remy whines, leaning forward again. You let him kiss you this time, unable to stop yourself from giving into Remy's charms. You grind onto him a little more to hear him moan and gasp into the kiss, and his grip on your thighs gets a little tighter. He mumbles again in Cajun, and you shake your head at him. He'd been trying to teach you, but you still weren't quite fluent. You decide you should ask him to teach you bedroom phrases soon. It'd make this a whole lot easier- but you wouldn't lie, you almost enjoy teasing him like this.

"One more, Cher. Please. Please, give me another one." Remy finally grunts. He looks at you with those pretty eyes of his, all blurry with his pupils dilated. You can't help but lean in and kiss him a few more times. You lift your hips, before sinking back down onto his cock with a little more force this time. He gasps out a broken "merci! merci," tears starting to trail down his cheeks as you start to ride him again.

"Oh- Only because you asked... so nicely." You moan. It's a struggle to get the words out, fighting your own oversensitivity, but hearing Remy crumble beneath you is worth how sore you would be in the morning ten times over.

[gay-dorito-dust]

i think dick and jason would give the BEST piggy back rides. you could sit so comfortably on jason’s shoulders too, bro’s massive. imagine playing pretend you’re remy from ratatouille and you pulling or playing with their hair moves them, silly guys

Note to self find more silly, goofy, stupid comic pics of Jason Todd or anyone really.

I wholeheartedly agree with this. So much so I needed to make a little drab or draft of it.

Jason and dick give the best piggy back rides ever! End of discussion!

I can see dick use to give Jason piggyback rides when he was little (don’t talk to me) and probably still tries to now but it doesn’t work out and the two end up on the floor.

Doesn’t stop him from trying again though.

Jason would give you piggybacks because it’s an excuse to have you close to him, so he hikes you up on to his shoulders, large calloused hands keeping you steady as he feels your hands go straight to his hair.

He does it so often that he hates not having you you on his back or atop of his shoulders, like truly hates it because you acted liked a comforting weight to Jason, so it was just as much of a comfort to him as it was to you. It reminds him of the better times that he has thought was long forgotten, however Jason finds himself wanting to keep you on his back and or shoulders for as long as he could, so don’t be surprised if Jason isn’t exactly eager to let you off so easily that you might as well make yourself comfortable on his back.

Dick would play along with you pulling on his hair to be honest, moving his limbs wherever you wanted them to go and saying ‘yes little chief’ all the time with that grin of his. He does it when your down and in need of a pick me up and he wanted nothing more then to hear you laugh and smile.

So if pretending to be controlled by you pulling his hair will do it? Then dick will spend hours doing so if it makes you happy and laughing again. Your happiness makes him happy and so he’ll gladly walk through your shared home while giving you a piggyback for as long as you want. He doesn’t mind being a little silly and a little goofy for you as it takes his mind off of the overwhelming -and sometimes crippling- responsibilities he has and oftentimes forgets to take a break himself; So he takes what time he has with you however he can, even if he’s calling you ‘little chief’ like twenty times a day.

[candymothster]

‎‎ 💋Kinktober 2024🍒‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎

EXTREME NSFW WARNING!! MDNI!!

A/N: I am starting VERY late for this year's kinkober! But here is my 2024 masterlist this year! I can't wait to work on this big writing project! Can ya’ll also figure out what special interest I’m into again?

All fics will be posted on both Tumblr and AO3 with respective links.

Edit: Please let me know if you’d like to be in the taglist!

Buy Me A Kofi❤️️ My AO3 Acc❤️️Masterlist❤️️

Day 1 Breast Worship - Scott Summers X Reader Post|AO3

Day 2 Double Penetration - young!Charles Xavier x Reader x young!Erik Lehnsherr

Day 3 Public Sex - tasm!Peter Parker x Reader

Day 4 Sensory Deprivation - priest!Matt Murdock x Reader

Day 5 Bondage - Eddie Brock x Reader

Day 6 A/B/O Heat/Rut - Logan Howlett x Reader

Day 7 Virgin - Nightcrawler x Reader

Day 8 Cock Warming - Charles Xavier x Reader

Day 9 Praise Kink - Nightcrawler x Reader

Day 10 Overstimulation - Wade Wilson x Reader

Day 11 Knife Play - Logan Howlett x Reader

Day 12 Sex Toys - Remy LeBeau x Reader

Day 13 Aftercare - tasm!Peter Parker x Reader

Day 14 Candle-Wax Play/Temperature Play - Bobby Drake x Reader

Day 15 Glory Hole - Wade Wilson x Reader

Day 16 Cock Worship - Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

Day 17 Dom-Sub - Remy LeBeau x Reader

Day 18 Cock ring/Plugs - Nightcrawler x Reader

Day 19 Mirror Sex/Masturbation - Marc Spector x Reader x Steven Grant

Day 20 Threesome - Logan Howlett x Reader x Scott Summers

Day 21 Monsterfucking - werewolf!Steve Rogers x Reader

Day 22 Thigh Riding/Fucking - Peter Maximoff x Reader

Day 23 Breeding - Hank McCoy x Reader

Day 24 Somnophilla - Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

Day 25 Non Con/Dub Con - Victor Creed x Reader

Day 26 Pegging - Remy LeBeau x Reader was

Day 27 Hate Fucking/Angry Sex - Scott Summers X Reader

Day 28 Impact Play - Wade Wilson x Reader

Day 29 Hunter-Prey - Logan Howlett x Reader

Day 30 Sex Pollen - Peter Maximoff x Reader

Day 31 First Time - Warren Worthington III x Reader

Top Divider By @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Rose Divider by me :)

[taintandviolent]

for the smut drabble: remy/reader with #36 please, cuz goddamn that man's hands are definitely nsfw 🥵

warnings: fingering (female receiving), pet names, light praise, writing these at work so possible clunky writing

“Tell ‘da Gambit what you want, cher…”

The sultry tone in his voice demands honesty — none of your shy, vague responses will suffice here. It takes a few moments to muster up the courage and find your voice again, but finally, you straighten up, pulling your mouth away from his warm neck.

“Want your fingers inside me,” you reply, practically whimpering. You rut your hips desperately against his thigh, feeling the growing wet spot as the fabric bunches against your core.

“‘Dat’s a good girl, huh…?” As he speaks, his hand drifts between your legs, and you press your knees into the sofa, giving him some room to work. You’re already reeling from the praise, but the contact makes you mewl with pleasure. He palms your cunt from the outside, rubbing the ball of his hand against her, while his fingers gently graze lower. You know he’s felt the damp fabric, as they hesitate on the wet spot, then begin stroking it gently. The small, seemingly passive action sends a shockwave rippling through your core. You whimper loud, an undeniable, hungry heat pooling between your legs.

With a newfound desperation, you shudder against his touch and roll your hips, bucking her forward and forcing more pressure. He chuckles below you, and with ease, navigates his fingers into the elastic of your panties.

Ample slickness meets the tips of his fingers, having already worked yourself up by riding his thigh for an hour, but when he touches you, your breath hitches in your throat. He plays with your folds, almost curiously, smearing your arousal around the warm, wet flesh. His middle finger flicks between, grazing your puffy clit on the way up. He touches you with agonizing tenderness and it has you clenching your teeth, begging for more.

Suddenly, he’s encircling it with the pad of his finger, working it in small ovals. Your legs shake at the feeling, and you can’t help but let out a keening moan.

His middle finger drops and pushes into your entrance slowly, breaching the dripping slit. He feels the clench of your cunt and sinks another in, stuffing them inside past the knuckle. You’ve fingered yourself many times, but the girth that two of his fingers have on your smaller ones? Astounding. They’re determined, curling up inside you to find the spongy flesh that’ll make you writhe away from him.

He alternates between rubbing your g-spot and hammering them into you, clear arousal stringing from his fingers every time he pulls back. His thumb bumps into your sensitive clit as he moves and whether that’s intentional or not, you don’t know. You assume it is. The effect is dizzying. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder, your chest heaving with ragged breaths.

“You’re so… fucking good with your hands… oh my god…!”

Amidst a chuckle, he says: “Mais oui… dat’s kinda’ my thing, cher.”

If they weren’t already rolling back in your head, you would’ve rolled your eyes at his cockiness, but he’s so good. So good and you find yourself meeting his motions, undulating your hips to push his fingers deeper each time.

The wide pad of his thumb presses into your clit and wiggles back and forth, applying a new sort of pressure that has your cunt fluttering around his fingers. “Oh, ffffuck-“

“Lemme’ hear it.” he barks, his lips close to your ear.

Your mouth opens wide and a shaky, quivering moan tumbles out as you come around his fingers, coating them in viscous fluid. You collapse against his shoulder to the sound of him chuckling heartily, and steady your own breathing. You feel his fingers leave you with a wet sound, and by the way he’s moving his arm, you can tell he’s looking at the glaze that now coats his digits.

“Mon coeur liked ‘dat, huh? Made a big ol’ mess.”

[urdreamydoodles]

Remy LeBeau "Gambit" x Fem!Reader

You're a little drunk but under the protection of none other than The Gambit

After a night out with Remy, you find yourself slightly tipsy and in need of protection when a few strangers try to take advantage of your state. Remy steps in to defend you, leading to a playful, tension-filled moment as he gives you a piggyback ride back to the mansion.

The night was warm, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the cobblestone paths as you walked beside Remy through the lively streets of New Orleans. The evening had been fun, filled with laughter and teasing banter, but as the night wore on, you could feel the warmth of the drinks you’d had settling into your bones. Remy had taken you out to a few of his favorite bars, and you’d both indulged in more than a couple of rounds. You weren’t exactly drunk, but the alcohol had left you feeling light, your steps a little unsteady and your head pleasantly fuzzy.

Remy, of course, was as collected as ever. The man could handle his liquor with the same smooth confidence that he handled everything else. He walked beside you with that lazy swagger of his, hands tucked into his pockets as he kept an eye on you. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flicking over to you, as if making sure you were okay, but his expression remained easy, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Y’ doin’ alright, chère?" His voice was low and soft, carrying that unmistakable Cajun drawl that always sent a little shiver down your spine. He stepped a little closer, his arm brushing against yours.

You nodded, a little giggle escaping your lips as you stumbled slightly, catching yourself on his arm. "Yeah, I’m fine," you said, though your balance was clearly not cooperating. "Maybe I had one too many drinks, though."

Remy chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he steadied you. "Maybe, but I gotta say, y’ a cute drunk, chérie. Could watch y’ like this all night."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you looked up at him, meeting his gaze. There was that familiar spark in his eyes, the one that always made your breath catch in your throat. The tension between you two had been building for weeks now, unspoken but undeniable. Every touch, every glance seemed to carry more weight lately, and you weren’t sure how much longer either of you could ignore it.

"Careful, Remy," you teased, though your voice was softer than you intended. "You keep talkin’ like that, and I might start thinkin’ you’ve got a crush on me."

His grin widened, his arm slipping around your waist to help steady you as you both continued down the street. "A crush, chère? Oh, I think it might be a lil’ more than that."

The way he said it made your stomach flutter, and you found yourself leaning into him a little more as you walked. You’d always been close with Remy, but lately, the air between you had shifted. You couldn’t deny the attraction anymore, and neither could he. It was like every moment with him crackled with electricity, the space between you charged with something you couldn’t quite name.

As the two of you neared a street corner, you stumbled slightly again, your balance thrown off by the uneven pavement and the lingering buzz from the drinks. Before you could fully recover, a couple of guys who had been loitering near the bar turned their attention to you. They were clearly a little too interested in your unsteady steps, their eyes lingering on you in a way that made your skin crawl.

"Hey there, sweetheart," one of them called, stepping forward as he eyed you up and down. "Need a hand? Looks like you’re havin’ a hard time walkin’ on your own."

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, Remy’s arm tightened around you, pulling you a little closer to his side. His entire demeanor shifted in an instant, the easygoing charm replaced with something harder, more dangerous. He shot the men a warning look, his red-on-black eyes narrowing.

"Don’t worry ‘bout her, homme," Remy said, his voice low and edged with a quiet threat. "She’s with me."

The guy sneered, clearly not taking the hint. "Oh yeah? She don’t look like she’s with anyone. Maybe she wants a real man to help her out."

Before you could react, Remy stepped forward, his body positioning itself between you and the men. His eyes flashed dangerously, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. He didn’t need to say anything more. His presence alone was enough to make the men think twice, and after a moment of hesitation, they backed off, muttering something under their breath before disappearing back into the bar.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your heart racing a little faster in your chest. Remy turned back to you, his expression softening as his eyes met yours. He didn’t say anything, just gave you a small smile as if to reassure you that everything was alright.

"You okay, chère?" he asked, his voice gentle again, the protective edge gone now that the threat had passed.

You nodded, a little breathless from the sudden shift in the mood. "Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for… that."

He waved it off, his grin returning. "Ain’t nothin’. Nobody’s gonna mess with y’ while I’m around."

The sincerity in his words made your heart squeeze, and for a moment, you found yourself wondering what it would be like to have him in your life like this all the time. Remy was always there for you, always watching out for you, and lately, it was starting to feel like more than just friendship. You weren’t sure how he felt, but the way he looked at you sometimes, the way he was looking at you right now… it made you wonder.

"You look like y’ need a ride, chérie," Remy said suddenly, breaking the silence. Before you could protest, he crouched down in front of you, patting his shoulders. "Hop on. I’ll get y’ back to the mansion safe and sound."

You blinked, surprised. "A piggyback ride? Really?"

He shot you a wink over his shoulder. "Trust me, it’s the best way to travel when y’ a lil’ tipsy. C’mon, I won’t drop y’. Promise."

Despite yourself, you giggled, the warmth of the drinks making you feel a little more carefree than usual. With a playful roll of your eyes, you climbed onto his back, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as his hands settled on your thighs to keep you steady. The closeness of his body against yours sent a jolt of heat through you, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else. It was just you and Remy, the night air cool against your skin as he carried you across the street.

His muscles flexed beneath you, the strength in his body obvious as he moved with effortless grace. The warmth of his skin against your own was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but rest your head on his shoulder, the scent of his cologne filling your senses. The tension between you simmered just beneath the surface, and you wondered if he could feel it too, the way your heart was racing in your chest.

"You comfortable back there, chère?" Remy’s voice broke through your thoughts, teasing as always.

You smiled, your fingers tightening slightly around his shoulders. "Yeah, I’m comfortable."

He chuckled, his hands shifting slightly on your thighs as he walked. "Good, ‘cause I gotta say, I could get used to carryin’ y’ around like this."

The playful tone in his voice made you blush, and you were glad he couldn’t see your face. "Remy, you’re impossible."

"Only ‘round y’, chère," he said softly, his voice dropping just a little, enough to make your heart skip a beat.

For the rest of the walk back to the mansion, neither of you spoke, but the silence between you was filled with unspoken words, with feelings that neither of you had voiced yet. As Remy carried you through the quiet streets, you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could keep pretending that this was just friendship, that the tension between you didn’t mean something more. Because if tonight had proven anything, it was that the line between friends and something more had never been thinner.

[apple-jorts]

Petition to shoot norm down with a loaded handgun

And juandissimo, cupid can be spared for now 🩷

he has the worst fronts views.

Fop in general just has really bad front views

[laurawaldorf]

Hello! Finally our little Em Fanfic Fandom have more writers!

Can I request 000's Eminem falling for Rockstar!Reader that have a baby (Baby Daddy no present) she always bring everywhere and even steals some attetion to him? :b

🎸⋆°. 𝗦𝗡𝗔𝗣 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗜𝗧.

⠀⠀────────────────────

| 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚: Marshall Mathers III (Eminem) x Rockstar!Fem!Reader.

| 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘: Fluffy.

| 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: N/A.

| 𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗: yes.

| 𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡: Snap Out Of It — Arctic Monkeys.

( hey! i loved your request, I had a lot of fun writing it! I hope you like it. 🤍 )

⠀⠀────────────────────

The noise of screams and applause filled the structure of the stadium where your rock band performed, you looked kindly at all the people who admired your art as you said goodbye with a wide smile after ending your show in New York.

— Thank you everyone for your support! Tonight was a very special night for us, New York! — You expressed with a vibrant smile, listening to all the love your fans had for you and your band.

The stage lights went dark, and you went backstage where your band team was with your youngest daughter, Remy, just two years old. You've always attracted a lot of attention in the industry, for being a successful rock singer with a successful band and a single mother who would do anything for your daughter, something Remy's father wouldn't do the same, he never did the least to get to know her after birth, leaving you alone to take care of a child, however, you did everything you could to fulfill your part of being a mother and a father in your daughter's life even with your busy schedule.

A happy smile spread across your lips as you picked up your daughter, your eyes sparkled when you saw that little child who had saved your life in so many ways. The other band members had the same loving smile for your daughter. The bassist, Mandy, approached Remy with a sweet smile.

— She's so cute! — Mandy said, stroking the little child's cheeks. — I saw a recording of her playing with the guitars, it was really cute!

You responded to the bassist with a smirk, looking up at the other woman, listening to the baby giggles that your daughter gave when she felt Mandy's touch on her cheeks.

— She sure is, Remy is passionate about guitars, maybe I'll give her one as a gift for her birthday. — You replied, turning your gaze to the child again.

On the other side of the dressing room, the guitarist named Axel who was adjusting the strings on his guitar was smiling at you and Remy.

— Maybe she'll be a guitarist like me, I'm really incredible. — He said in a cocky and fun way, making you laugh. — Yo, there's going to be a party at Dr Dre's mansion in a little while… are you going?

Mandy just let out a sideways smile and crossed her arms, throwing herself onto the small sofa there:

— I still don't know how you have contact with these Hip-Hop people...but I will go, will you, Y/N? — The bassist asked, looking up at you.

You continued to look at the girl in your arms, with your lips pressed together as you rubbed the back of your head in a tone of doubt.

— I will stay, Remy must be tired and she has school tomorrow...I'll stay at home. — You explained, raising your gaze to the two members who looked at him with an understanding look.

— That's fair. — Axel paused with a light sigh. — So, Mandy now call the other members because our car should already be waiting.

— Okay, we'll give you two a ride too, Y/N. — Mandy said, looking at Remy with a smirk.

⠀⠀────────────────────

After a few weeks of your show, your performance was a complete success, it became news in all media and tabloids in all magazines. Your band's songs were played on different types of radio, from rock to pop, and it was also a constant question for some artists in interviews.

You were in your large apartment in downtown New York, in the kitchen as you prepared lunch for you and Remy while your daughter watched a random cartoon in the living room. You cut the vegetables and put them in the pan with bubbling water, your radio on the counter played some songs until you started an interview with Eminem, the rapper who was at the height of his career like you and who had already mentioned you in some songs.

You didn't pay much attention to the interview until the people hosting the interview mentioned your show and you, which made your interest grow quickly and take your attention completely to the radio.

— Yo, Em, I don't know if you're probably aware, but Y/N did a wonderful show a few weeks ago, we were impressed with how she managed to give such an authentic and captivating performance even though she just entered the industry. You've already mentioned her in some of your songs, how do you feel about her? — The interviewer asked, his voice squeaking slightly over the sound of the radio.

— To be more exact, I really admire what she and her band do. I was at the show with Proof watching her and it was…wow. As an artist, she has a lot of potential, and as a father...I see her as an inspiration, even though she is a single mother and has a huge career, she manages to be present in her daughter's life, and that is something to admire...In fact, If Y/N needs a candidate to be her daughter's stepfather, I'll volunteer. — Marshall said, in a joking tone that made all the interviewers laugh at the situation.

The whole situation left you with rosy cheeks and a silly smile on your lips, Marshall seemed like a nice guy, and who was also going through the same situation of being a single father after his divorce with his ex-wife, Kimberly. You felt a depth of truth behind his playful words, and that typical feeling of butterflies began to form in your stomach.

Your thoughts were quickly cut short after the sound of the landline telephone in the hallway of the apartment began to echo through the wall, making you turn off the stove and wipe your hands on the cloth on the counter, going over to the device.

Your hands went to the phone and placed it in your left ear, your silly smile remained on your face without realizing it.

— Hello?- — You were quickly interrupted by Mandy's excited voice coming from the other end of the line.

— Did you see what Eminem said about you on the radio? Girl, he's so into you! — The bassist's lively voice was mixed with some laughter.

You tilted your head slightly to the left side, pressing the fingers of your free hand to your lips.

— I saw…and did you see that he was at our show? But he was just joking, don’t be crazy. — You shrugged your shoulders, trying to convince yourself that it was just his joke.

However, Mandy wasn't convinced, she just rolled her eyes and snorted upon hearing your comment.

— You're always like that...it's clear he wants to talk to you! Look, Axel said that 50 is going to have a party and Eminem will be there, you go and I'll take care of Remy without any problems, you need to go! — The other woman said, you could feel her mischievous smile on the other end of the phone line.

Internally, you felt like you were going to explode. Your mind screamed for you to go and your skin heated up just thinking about talking to him, the blush on your cheeks became even more apparent and your smile grew even more.

— Okay...when is this party? I'll try to go. — You said in a shy tone, letting out a shaky breath.

The bassist let out a scream of joy upon hearing your question, and a proud smile formed on her lips.

— This Saturday! You have to go, choose your best outfit! — Ordered the other woman, ending the call without giving you a chance to respond or argue against it.

⠀⠀────────────────────

The noise of Hip-Hop music and people having fun filled the air at 50 Cent's mansion, where the grand party that Mandy had mentioned to you days before was taking place.

You looked around and saw different artists having fun, drinking and even kissing in the corners of the room. You leaned on the bar counter in the center of the living room, while adjusting a black mini skirt and your black leather jacket with burgundy red details. In the other corner of the room, Marshall Mathers was watching you with a smirk on his lips, his gaze discreetly admiring your face and body, and by his side, there was his best friend Proof, who was observing the scene.

Without patience, Proof took his hands to the other rapper's shoulders and shook him lightly, making Eminem's gaze go to him.

— Are you going to stare at her like a idiot or go talk to her? — The boy asked, pulling his best friend out of his mental trance.

Marshall just muttered a small “Hm?” and again raised his gaze to you, swallowing dryly.

— I don't know, man... I don't know if she liked the “joke” I made on the radio. — Said the rapper, shrugging his shoulders and taking some of his drink to clear his throat.

The other boy just snorted and rolled his eyes, moving away from his best friend and looking up at you, letting out a sigh:

— If you don't go to her, she'll think you're just another cowardly dumbass! Go, man! — Proof replied, trying to encourage Marshall.

After a few minutes of mental preparation and encouragement from Proof, Eminem approached in slow and awkward steps, he quickened his breathing with each step he took and the closer he got to you.

You noticed someone approaching from behind, so you gently turned your head back and your gaze quickly landed on the rapper, which made your heart stop for a few seconds.

Marshall had the same reaction, his heart accelerated a little more when he saw your face and he felt his own body betray him, feeling his knees shaking as he tried to keep his posture upright.

— Yo, Y/N, right? — Marshall tried to start a conversation, feeling a spike of adrenaline in his heart palpitate.

Your hands felt cold and a shiver ran down your spine as you heard his voice mix with the sound of the party's loud music.

— Yes, it’s me... it's a pleasure to meet you, Marshall. — You replied, letting a sideways smile escape.

The blonde felt goosebumps on his skin when he heard you say his name, he knew he had a small crush on you...but he didn't know it was so intense.

— It’s nice to meet you too, so…I don’t know if you’ve listened to the radio lately, but I wanted to apologize if I offended you by the joke I made in that interview. — You could hear him slurring his own words in a nervous way, gesturing with his hands.

— It's okay, really. I even liked your joke, it was cute. — You answered him in the same way, your words escaping your mouths without thinking.

A spike of shame hit your heart as you realized what you had said, a red blush marked your cheeks as you widened your eyes slightly.

— Ah, so it's okay...do you mind if I buy you a drink? — The rapper asked, his nervousness slowly disappearing when he noticed the look on his face, his lips curling into a proud smile.

— I would love. — You replied, letting out a calm sigh.

⠀⠀────────────────────

The rest of the night went well, the conversation between you and Marshall flowed better than you expected.

It was interesting to see the industry's most feared rapper be so kind and completely interesting and funny. At the moment, you were outside the party, observing the dark sky full of stars contrasting with the lights that the buildings that New York emitted.

— So...I heard there's a super cool bar near here, want to go with me? Just the two of us. — Marshall said, stroking your right hand gently.

— I'd love to, Em. — You replied, intertwining your fingers with his.

[fountainpenguin]

So post-"Remy Rides Again," is Remy like… under a geis that he can’t eat ANY food not prepared by Juandissimo’s hands?

"You can have him back, but he has to cook all of your meals."

Does the rule only apply to three meals a day? Can he eat desserts? Is he allowed candy and snacks?

If he attends a banquet with his parents, does he have to come up with excuses for why he's not eating? Does he have to avoid food at birthday parties? The school cafeteria? I assume that's the implication here.

If he opts to skip a meal, does he automatically lose Juandissimo under fae contract rules??

The kid who loves T-bone steaks gave everything up to keep his godfather… His parents run the Fancy Schmancy Country Club and host large events full of food... That’s so funny.

No wonder Remy broke the truce in "Operation F.U.N."-

Timmy almost made him break terms and conditions in "The Big Bash" by handing him Cupid's cooking (/jk)

Welcome back, Cú Chulainn...

[imaginedisish]

Logan Howlett/Wolverine Masterlist

I've written so much for this man in the past week that I've decided he deserves his own masterlist. Enjoy. Fics are organized by the date they were posted. See fics for more specific warnings.

~The Promise (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating 18+ for smut

You want to relax after a long day, so you decide to let off some steam alone in your room. But, you're not as alone as you think. Logan can hear you loud and clear...and he's happy to help.

~Unchained Melody (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating 18+ for smut

You and Logan decide to go to Rogue and Remy's wedding together, but you don't know what together means. Logan helps to clarify...

~One for the Road (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating 18+ for smut

Forty-five minutes is simply too long of a car ride for you to wait to take care of Logan... Or: you give Logan head while he's driving and he absolutely loses it.

~Poker Face (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating 18+ for smut

You and Logan are alone in the mansion for the evening, and after a few drinks, your game of Blackjack turns into strip poker...

~Modern Love (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

The team goes out to an arcade, and Logan is his usual grumpy self...but his soft spot for you is more clear than ever.

~Wild Horses (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating 18+ for smut

Logan takes you out for a friendly drink...that ends up being more than just friendly.

~My Love All Mine (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating: 18+ for smut

Logan told you to stay in his bed so he could have you when he got home from a mission, but he finds you in the kitchen instead...and he isn’t happy.

~Liquid Smooth (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating: 18+ for smut

A simple mission deep in a forest alone with Logan quickly gets out of hand when you just have to go and pick a flower...

~Is It Casual Now? (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating: 18+ for smut

You can’t handle just a casual affair with Logan. You need more.

~See You Again (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating: 18+ for smut and violence.

You're convinced Logan hates you. But when you're forced to run a drill in the danger room, alone, everything changes.

~Savior Complex (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating: 18+ for smut and violence.

You are willing to give up everything, including your own life, to save your found family. Logan, however, is not willing to let you do that. And he finally shows you why. 

~Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating: 18+ for smut and violence.

Logan's kindness towards you is strictly friendly. Until it's not just friendly anymore...

~Lover, You Should’ve Come Over (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating: 18+ for smut and violence.

You've been pining after Logan since you joined the X-Men, and you're convinced he'll never love you back. He’s obsessed with Jean—always has been. Or...maybe he's not.

~Heart to Heart (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating: 18+ for smut

Logan doesn't seem like himself on the car ride up to Lake George to meet the other X-Men for the weekend, and you're not going to leave him alone until you find out why (it's car sex, the whole fic is basically just rough car sex). 

~ Inside Out (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating: 18+ for smut and violence.

After a tense battle, you and Logan have it out (in more ways than one). 

~Need 2 (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating: 18+ for smut and violence.

You and Logan have always been plagued with nightmares, so avoiding sleep is just something you two have in common...until you find yourselves in each other's beds, helping one  another through your nightmares. 

~I’m Not In Love (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Rating: 18+ for smut

After harboring a crush on Logan for months, things finally come to a head while on an overnight mission.

[decentwritings]

Chapter 5

Summary: You’re unable to grasp the luck you have. You were raised to run from danger, to go the opposite direction of bad influences. So when you somehow find yourself right in the center of it, you discover that running wasn’t exactly what you were taught. It only took GhostFace and a pretty girl to remember that.

previous part <- -> next part

"Aww, man," you whine, crossing your arms over your chest childishly. "I missed a surveillance op?"

Danny pinches the bridge of his nose, annoyed, while Tara finds your words amusing.

You all gather in your sister's home, in the kitchen where there's less mess. You sat on the floor, entertaining Blackie while Remy betrays you, choosing Tara over you. You offered the idea to discuss a few things in the home, wanting to give the sisters some puppy time. They say dogs help relieve stress, and these two do a good job of it for you. You figure they could help relieve a little of the stress before you go kill some psychos.

"How did you guys know it was me they were after?" You pat the German Shepherd's head, snapping your fingers and pointing down. He sits and pants in front of you. "Dude, go entertain the tall one, you're drooling on me," you point at Sam.

Blackie whines, glancing at Sam. Sam stares back at him, eyebrow arching. He saunters over to Sam and lifts his paw onto her knee. She rolls her eyes, but you and Danny don't miss the smile on her face as she kneels down to pet him.

"We waited for him to call us," Tara explains, smiling down at the pitbull, rubbing his belly. "But he knew we were expecting his call."

"He said he was visiting the suburbs," Sam continues, both hands holding the dog's face. She shakes his head in her hands gently and the puppy pants happily. "Then he tried to confuse us, telling us there was an old friend he needed to see first."

You raise a brow, looking over at Danny for help. He shrugs, just confused as you are.

"When he hung up, Kirby tracked his phone to two different locations." Tara explains, brushing her fingers on the top of Remy's head. The dog lays on Tara's lap, trying his best to fight off the sleep she's lulling him into. "Here and Gale's apartment."

"There are two!" you exclaim, almost giddily, because you were right.

"No," Sam deadpans, your smile dropping. "Gale just got a call. She's okay. Mindy, Chad and Ethan are with her now."

"Ethan?" you ask incredulously.

"His alibi checked out," Tara informs you and you huff again. "Anyway, we drove here as fast as we could. We used the sirens," she grins, amused by your reaction.

You groan, throwing your head back. "Aww, man, you guys drove a police car?" Tara nods, laughing at your reaction.

"This doesn't make sense," Danny speaks up, ending the intense eye contact you and Tara were having. "Why did he go after you? No offense, but you don't really have that much of a role in the recreation of their supposed movie."

"Offense taken," you comment before Sam intervenes.

"It could be you have some sort of connection to the originals..." Sam offers an idea, standing up, leaving Blackie to lay down with a whine.

"Uhh, no," you draw out, shaking your head. "My family's boring. The only interesting we have ever gotten into was them losing me at DisneyWorld," you point at Danny to verify.

Danny chuckles at the memory. "Oh yeah," he shakes his head. "Their mom nearly got them to shut the entire park down. Turns out, they were at the teacup ride just riding it over and over."

You smile, proud. "I broke the record for the most rides in a single day," you frown suddenly. "I also got my ass whooped when we got home."

"Maybe it's not about your past all," Sam crosses her arms, pondering the reason. She arches a brow at you. "Maybe you pissed them off, you have done nothing but annoy them."

Danny laughs. "It's second nature," he sends you a pointed glare.

"I make jokes when I'm uncomfortable!" You defend, lifting your hands up in mock surrender. Suddenly, you gasp, earning confused glares. "That's who Gale looks like of. Monica!"

Danny pinches the bridge of his nose again.

Sam ignores your words. "Or maybe it could be your friendship with Tara," she glances at her sister, who sends her a warning glare. "We don't know how long he's been watching us, Tara." She explains.

You furrow your brows. "I got here during summer semester," you say, confused by Sam's words. "I got stuck with Anika as a roommate because I didn't want to stay with my sister and Danny doesn't have a spare room."

"I offered you my spare room," Danny retorts. "But you didn't want to pay rent."

You wave him off. "I didn't really meet Tara until..." you tilt your head, unsure. You look over at the girl, sending her apologetic look. "We didn't meet until the party, so I don't think friendship is the right word."

Sam notices the way her sister's entire demeanor changes. Her sister avoids eye contact, clearly affected by your words.

Remy lifts his head up, snarling at you. You lift your hands up, glaring back at the dog. "What did I do?" You narrow your eyes at him.

Tara smiles again, petting the dog gently from head to tail. He wags his tail and nuzzles his face back down into her lap.

"We met at the bookstore," Tara finally speaks, drawing your attention away from the dog. "I overheard you talking to yourself about the prices of pencils being high."

You don't recall. Summer was...it was a blur. It was a summer full of airplane rides to Atlanta and back. Your dad's health was deteriorating and you actively searched for reasons to not be there to see it.

There's a sudden shift in the room, a tension that becomes noticeable only to Danny. He can see your expression change from confusion to sadness in seconds. It's then Remy stands to push his nose against your lap, pleading for you to give him space to let him be with you.

"Um," you clear your throat, unsure of where the knot came from. "GhostFace brought up my...habit of running. It's what I did this summer."

"He usually attacks emotionally first," Sam says, understanding.

"The thing is, no one knows but my family," you look at her, trying to piece together this whole thing. "My dad died last month," you finally say it out loud, but tears don't form in your eyes.

Danny feels Sam's eyes on him, but he keeps his eyes trained on you, ready to console you if you need it.

The day you got the call from your mom, you recall having plans with Anika to meet her friends. She wanted you to meet her girlfriend only, it was to show her girlfriend she didn't have to worry about you. But Mindy came with a package, her twin and Tara. And with her twin, Ethan.

You faintly remember being annoyed by their laughter. The group's loud way of communicating. The stare Ethan had on you when he thought you weren't looking.

"So, Y/N–" Tara tried to get you to join the conversation. But you're too out of it to notice.

You stood up. "I gotta go," you ran then too. You went MIA for a week before the funeral, and you only showed up to give your mom the cash you got when you sold your car.

Tara's expression softens as she listens, her fingers continuing to stroke Remy's fur, the dog returning to nestle in her lap. There's a heavy silence, one that feels loaded with the weight of what you've just revealed. Even though you've held the tears at bay, the grief is there—raw, and unspoken. You've tried running from these feelings and clearly its caught up to you.

"I'm sorry," Tara says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You give a small shrug, your eyes fixed on the floor. "It's... whatever," you mutter, but the strain in your voice betrays your attempt at indifference. "I wasn't even there when it happened," you add, and that's when the guilt hits, almost visible in the way you hunch your shoulders slightly.

Sam steps forward, her arms uncrossing. "GhostFace knows things," she says, her tone serious. "Things he shouldn't."

Blackie pushes your arms and plops down on your lap, the strongest one between the two puppies. You got this guy when he was just six weeks old; his previous owners pieces of shits so you rescued him from them. You gifted him to your sister and her husband when you moved in with them; and that was only so they could allow him to move in with you.

He favored you more than Remy did. He knew you inside out, probably better than you knew yourself. But never more than your dad.

Your dad did train him for the first six months of his life though. Maybe he picked up on a few things.

You stare at the German Shepherd, and he feels you staring so his eyes glance up at you. A soft smile crosses your lips, patting his head gently.

Your brows furrow then, and you finally meet her eyes. "But how? No one but family knew. And it's not like I broadcasted my family stuff."

"That's what's bothering me," Sam says, her gaze narrowing in thought. "It's almost like someone close to you told him."

"Impossible, I don't have friends," you comment, half-joking, but the weight of it lingers.

"Or they've been watching for a lot longer than we thought," Sam offers another idea.

"Nope," you dismiss that idea as well. "I'm paranoid. I am always on guard and question everyone's intentions."

Danny's voice breaks the tension. "You had a full conversation with a homeless man last week," he deadpans.

You chuckle at the memory. "Yeah. He was nice." You defend Lionel, the homeless man. He was nice.

But Tara isn't laughing. She sits up a little straighter, her eyes flicking between you and Sam as she pieces something together. "What if they weren't just after you because of me or the others? What if it's because they want to break you down—push you to run again?"

A knot twists in your stomach, and you feel the gravity of Tara's words sink in. "Why would they care about me running?"

"Because it's what you do, right?" Danny interjects, his voice steady but sympathetic. "You run when things get tough, but maybe this time, they want to control when and where you go. They're using your fear against you."

It hits you like a punch in the gut. "I'm ruining his plan," you finally realize, your voice quiet but firm. Danny's eyes lock with yours, and you can see the recognition in his expression. "He wants me to run because I'm ruining his plan. The plot. The whole thesis or whatever film jargon Mindy would use. I'm not the hero—I'm the fucking cock block... in theory." You finish, unsure of the term but knowing you're onto something.

The room falls silent, your revelation weighing heavily in the air. Sam's eyes flick between you and Tara, while Danny's gaze remains fixed on you, understanding dawning in his expression. It's as if the pieces are finally starting to fall into place.

"You...may be right," Danny says slowly, his voice measured. "You're not following their script, the role you took on by happening upon it. They want you to run, because you happened on this whole ordeal. You weren't suppose to go to the party, you weren't suppose to be at Sam's place when he went to attack."

"Nope. I was forced to go both times," you explain, laughing gently. "Dumbass. Everyone knows you need a backup plan."

Sam's brow furrows, arms crossed as she paces a bit. "So, he doesn't want you to be the hero... and he wants to get rid of you." She stops in her tracks, thinking aloud. "And if they couldn't get you to leave, he was going to rid of you his own way."

Tara shifts uncomfortably, her eyes darting between you and her sister.

"And they failed." You say triumphantly.

"Who knows what else you ruined in their plan?" Tara shrugs.

Sam narrows her eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe Quinn wasn't the only planned killing for that night."

You shift uneasily, the gravity of the situation settling in. "So, what? I just stick around and hope I don't mess things up even more? Hoping it doesn't get me killed in the process."

Danny lets out a humorless chuckle. "Or you stay and mess things up in his plan instead."

You look at him, confused, and a little insulted.

"You told me what Mindy said," Danny continues. "You're the wild card. You're not playing by the rules, and that's exactly why he's targeting you. If you run, you make it easier for him. But if you stay—"

"I ruin his movie," you finish for him, your voice more confident now.

Sam gives a small nod, her expression hardening. "And if we know anything about GhostFace, it's that he hates when things don't go his way."

Tara smiles faintly, a glimmer of hope returning to her eyes. "We've got an advantage now. We know what he wants you to do—and we're going to make sure you don't do it.

With a head shake and smile, you say instead, "Or maybe I do..do it," you couldn't help but giggle at your words. Danny shakes his head in disbelief, but chuckles as well. When you see Tara frown, you shake your head and stand carefully, making sure not to bother any of the sleeping dogs. "We make the idiot think I did run..." you look at Sam, hoping she gets where you're going.

Sam's eyes narrow, her arms still crossed as she processes your words. Slowly, a grin tugs at the corner of her lips. "You want to bait him," she says, her voice low with understanding. "Make GhostFace think you're running—play into his narrative."

"Exactly," you say, pointing at her, feeling the adrenaline start to course through your veins. "We make him think I'm doing what he expects, what he wants."

Danny raises an eyebrow, catching on. "We make him think you run, but really, you're leading him right into a trap."

Tara's frown fades, replaced with curiosity. "That could work," she murmurs, glancing at Sam. "If he thinks he's controlling the situation, he'll get overconfident, make mistakes."

Sam nods, her mind already racing through the logistics. "We'll need to set it up carefully. Make it believable."

"But tell no one," you say, looking between them all. "We can't risk anyone listening and it getting back to him somehow. Mindy, Chad, Kirby, Quinn's dad and definitely not Ethan." You emphasize.

Tara laughs quietly, shaking her head.

"Fine," Sam steps forward, and everyone follows. "We know the plan..."

"Oh, Captain America speech," you bounce on your feet excitedly. You purse your lips when you receive deadpan glares.

"We know our roles," Sam continues, glancing at each of you. "We make him regret ever trying to write any of us into his twisted movie."

You rest your hands on your hips, a proud smile forming on your lips. It radiates, drawing their attention to you. You shrug. "I just..." you smile, feeling more determined than ever. "I've spent my whole life running away from things. I think it's about time I run toward something—toward ending this for you guys."

Danny pats your shoulder gently, his grip reassuring. He's proud of you and your smile only widens at that.

Tara steps closer, her gaze soft but resolute. "Thanks for doing this," she looks over at her sister, her eyes full of gratitude before locking back on you. "For staying."

Danny and Sam share a look, feeling the clear attraction between you and Tara.

"So," Danny clears his throat, breaking the moment with a knowing smile. "The plan?"

You blink a few times, getting out of stupor. "Right..." you glance at your cousin, Sam then Tara. You feel caught so you hurry to move on. "We trap him, but we're gonna need all the help we can get.."

\\\\\

You know a plan is good when you start to believe it's bad.

"You know, the more we talk about it," you begin, pacing back and forth in front of them. "The more appealing it sounds." You chew your nail, a nervous habit you know you'd get reprimanded for if your siblings or parents were around.

The group sits in Gale's apartment building's lobby, being called over by the twins. They explained the need of wanting to end this. Chad told Sam of Mindy's worries of this ending worse than before. So Sam suggested they join them, hoping to console Mindy with their presence. She knows the twin worries when they are too far apart during situations like this.

Danny arches a brow. "What does?"

You clear your throat, coming to a stop by the door. "My mom called me," you say, avoiding their stares and keeping your eyes on Danny. "She wants me to come home. Even my brother said I should leave, and he's the one who convinced me and my sister to go to New York in the first place. So maybe I should...go back home." Your words come out reluctantly, because you're starting to mean them.

Danny glances at the others, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. "Wait... you're serious."

You nod, playing into the part. "Yeah. Maybe it's time I listen to them." You shift your weight, making your hesitation believable.

Mindy stands abruptly, her voice rising. "Woah, hold up," she steps closer, shaking her head. "You can't just leave. You're part of this now—our hero!" Her tone is pleading, eyes wide with disbelief.

You shrug off her words, refusing to meet her gaze. "I'm no hero, Mindy. I'm just some idiot who stuck around too long. Like a bug stuck to a car's grill." You glare, directing the frustration outward, glancing at Chad and Ethan sitting nearby. Ethan looks back at you with that same innocent expression that's always unsettling.

With a huff, you shake your head and turn toward the door.

"GhostFace or not," you say sharply, turning back to face the room. "Maybe staying in New York was the wrong choice from the start. There isn't anything for me here, anyway."

The room falls silent for a moment, your words hanging in the air like a weight. Tara shifts uncomfortably, glancing between you and Sam. Danny looks torn, as if he wants to say something but is holding back.

"You can't just leave," Chad finally speaks up, breaking the silence. His voice is quiet, uncertain. "I mean, come on, you're part of this now. We need you."

"Need me?" you scoff, incredulous and bewildered at his words. "So he can kill me while you all survive again? No thanks."

Danny clenches his jaw, your words surprising him. "Y/N, relax. No one is dying-"

"He's tried to kill me twice," your voice raises, frustrated and exhausted. You feel Tara's sad eyes on you and it takes every ounce of will power you have not to look at her. "That's twice too many. And they say third's time the charm? Yeah, no, I'm not giving him the chance."

Ethan watches you, his gaze intense, but he says nothing. His expression is hard to read, but you don't let it throw you off. Not now.

"My family's suffered one loss already," you say, stunning Danny into silence. "I'm not going to put through another." Your words hit hard, firm and serious.

You mean it, Danny can tell. You're not acting on the role you told them you'd take on.

Mindy steps forward, her hands gesturing wildly as she speaks. "This isn't just about you! If you run, you give GhostFace exactly what he wants. He'll pick us off one by one if you're not here."

You look at her, then your gaze travels to your roommate sitting right behind her. You managed to grow a friendship with Anika, she has been nothing but nice to you. But this isn't about you, it was never suppose to be about you. This is their story, with an ending they can deal with.

"It was nice meeting you all," you say as you take tentative steps back towards the door. You don't miss the disappointed looks on their faces. "Really. I'm sure if the circumstances were different, we would be great friends. But, god, I hope I never see you guys again."

You say, final, turning on your heels, making your exit.

Danny looks down, ashamed.

Chad looks at the door, hoping you changed your mind. Minutes tick by, nothing but silence surrounds them. That and a few lingering policemen, making sure GhostFace didn't linger behind, hiding somewhere.

With no sight of you returning, Chad turns to the group. "What do we do?"

Sam looks at her friends, their fright obvious and palpable.

"Maybe he wins this time," she says softly.

Ethan leans forward where he's sat, an exasperated look on his face. "I'm sorry, what?"

Sam stands, looking at them all. "This was never suppose to involve any of you," she sighs, the sad look on her sister's face hurting her the most. "I roped you guys into this. He wants to punish me... Me. Maybe I let him."

"You want to give up?" Mindy asks, some disgust lingers in her tone.

"Everyone thinks I'm this terrible person. Maybe they're right." Sam says, then looks at Tara again. "You said it. It's not like I have a plan for my life anyway. If this is what I need to do to keep you all safe... then it's worth it."

Tara's expressions changes at her sister's words. "No." She snarls, getting on her feet. "Fuck that. You came back to Woodsboro to protect me. And you've been protecting me ever since. We're all still alive because of you."

"And Y/N," Ethan adds, earning glares from everyone.

"They aren't here anymore, you don't have to kiss their ass," Anika glares at him. He cowers down where he's sat.

With a deep breath, Tara takes her sister's hands. "Maybe it's time you let us protect you. We're a team, remember?"

Sam's eyes soften as she looks at her sister, Tara's words slowly cutting through the guilt and exhaustion she's been carrying. For a moment, the tension between them breaks, and the weight on Sam's shoulders seems to lighten, just a little.

Tara tightens her grip on Sam's hands, her voice stronger now. "You're not in this alone anymore, Sam. None of us are. We can't just give up and let him win."

Mindy steps up. "We're a family."

Chad brightens. "Hell yeah! Core four!"

Danny tilts his head in confusion, but doesn't comment on it.

Sam crosses her arms. "He's going to keep coming for us."

Ethan shakes his head. "I think Y/N had the right idea," he speaks up, capturing their attention. "Can't we just hole up somewhere safe?"

Anika looks at him in disgust. "Ugh, god, I hope you are GhostFace so you die at the end," she grumbles under her breath. Ethan stares back at her with wide eyes.

Mindy laughs but gets a shove from Chad. "Oh," she mumbles, clearing her throat. "Anika." she tries her best to sound authoritative.

Tara gives Ethan a pointed look. "And hiding won't solve anything. He'll just find us, like he always does..." she trails off, coming to a realization as soon as the words come out of her mouth. "I have an idea. Chad, give me your phone," she orders without an explanation.

Chad does as he's told, handing his phone over to the short girl. She does a quick dial of the number and soon, the man picks up. Tara explains the plan to the detective, who doesn't seem at all convinced or sure of it. She doesn't bother on insisting him to liking the plan, just wants to know if he wants to be apart of it.

"Are you gonna help us?" Tara asks once she's done with her explanation.

"Yes," Bailey relents with a sigh, glancing around his surroundings. "I'm stuck here, but Gale gave us the keycards to the theater; it has heavy security and surveillance cameras, we can use that against him. I'll get Kirby to meet you there and join you as soon as I can."

Tara glances at Danny, who wandered off to make a phone call. She can see him actually frustrated, and she can't even guess what about.

"Travel in public," Bailey pulls her out of stupor. "Remember, the more people around you, the less of a chance he can take a shot at you before you get here."

The walk to the subway is unnervingly quiet, tension settling like a fog over the group. Sam walks beside her sister, hyper-aware of their surroundings. She's ready for anything, but the weight of the plan lingers heavily on her mind. Trusting Bailey and Kirby felt like a gamble, but it was the only option they had. She steals glances at the others as they walk in an uneasy silence—each of them lost in their own thoughts, wary of every shadow, every passerby.

Danny lingers behind, phone pressed to his ear again. Faintly, Tara hears, "Yo, this is Y/N, I don't check voicemails so send me a message..." then a beep.

Danny grits his teeth and slips his phone into his pocket, catching up to the group quietly.

Tara turns to the others, her voice tight. "You guys don't have to come with us," she tells Ethan, Anika, and Danny. Sam nods beside her, silently agreeing.

"Right," Ethan scoffs. "We peel off and the killer takes us out one-by-one? No thank you."

Anika squints her eyes at him, mimicking her girlfriend's glare. "I'm going to keep an eye on him," she says, pointing at Ethan, who lifts his hands in mock surrender, incredulous.

"Safety in numbers, right?" Danny speaks up. "I'm not my cousin. I don't run," he looks at Sam, trying to offer a reassuring smile.

"Let's get to the theater," Sam nods just as the train arrives.

They all stand together, but the flow of passengers getting off the train separates them. Ethan, Anika and Mindy are pushed back by people. Mindy grabs Anika's hand, steadying herself.

"Hey!" Mindy shouts after them, standing on her toes to get a glimpse of them. She spots her brother on the train. "Chad!"

Chad waits by the doors, hoping his strength is enough to keep them open. He watches his sister and her girlfriend struggle through the crowd, pushing their way forward. The thought to get off and help them crosses his mind, but then he feels someone yank him back. The doors snap shut, his eyes widening as he hears his sister call out his name again.

Mindy and Anika run, but can't make it onto the train in time. A hand grabs Mindy's shoulder, and she jumps back, pulling Anika with her. Ethan stands there, eyes wide with innocence.

"Get your Ghostface ass away from me, Ghostface." Mindy distances her and Anika away from him, ignoring the hurt expression on his face.

"Where's Mindy and Anika?" Sam asks when Chad and Danny finally join her and Tara.

"They missed the train," Chad admits, his voice tight. "I would've waited with them, but Cute Boy pulled me inside," he adds, glaring at Danny.

Tara's suspicion flares. She trusted Danny because of you, but now—with you gone, really gone—she isn't sure who to trust anymore. The plan was for you to text Danny once you had finished your part, but Danny hasn't mentioned anything to the group.

"I was trying to keep us all together," Danny defends.

"By splitting us up?" Tara asks, her voice sharp as her glare.

Chad pulls out his phone, revealing a text from Mindy: We'll get the next one. Don't wait for us. We'll meet you at the theater.

Chad locks his phone after the sisters read the message, then looks up. His eyes widen, his stomach twisting into a knot. "Shit," he mutters.

The others follow his gaze, their nerves skyrocketing. The subway car is packed to the max with Halloween revelers dressed as every horror movie character to ever exist—Freddy, Jason, Pinhead, Michael Myers, Leatherface.

But it isn't those characters that send a chill down their spines. It's the dozens of people dressed as Ghostface, their masks seemingly trained on the group, unmoving.

Tara swallows thickly. "How many stops?"

"Ten," Sam answers, her voice barely a whisper as she checks the map.

Danny grips the pole, his knuckles white from tension. "Great."

[seraph-starman]

admit it | s.w.

pairing: sam winchester x reader summary: sam’s sleep schedule finally catches up to him word count: 1.9k remi’s notes: i had sassy, early seasons sam in mind for this (so you should too !) even though the plot doesn’t match <3 (-2 degrees celcius is close to 28 degrees for our american friends)

You had advised him to wear a jacket. It was raining, and -2 degrees outside as you trekked through the forest in an attempt to retrace your steps and find where the Impala was parked. You had gotten lost after the hunt for the burial site of an angry ghost. Usually Dean was pretty good at remembering where he parked his beloved car, but it was dark when you arrived and this forest was much bigger than anticipated. At the sound of sniffing behind you, barely audible over the sound of leaves crunching in your path and tapping of rain, you stop and turn to Sam. He shoots you a glare.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine. And rain can’t even make you sick,” he says in response to your stare before continuing to walk past you.

“Sure, rain can’t make you sick. But being cold and wet for prolonged periods of time can. We’ve been out here for an hour. And you don’t get a healthy amount of sleep, which can put you at risk for illnesses,” you reply, paraphrasing the article you had memorized just for this occasion as you catch up with him.

“I get plenty of sleep. Trust me, I’m not sick.”

Dean then looks back to you both, shaking his head in annoyance.

“You two are being a real help here.”

Sam rolls his eyes.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at Dean.

The older Winchester stops and turns back, looking offended.

“Of course I know where we’re going!“

You both stop as you reach where Dean stood, eyes peering through the curtain of rain over the river that stood before you, to the trees that stretched for acres. The sun was rising over the tops of the woods.

“Here,” Sam says, sniffing between the actions of reaching into his pocket and then handing Dean a crumpled map. Dean groans, throwing his hands up before snatching the map from him.

“You had that this whole time?” He asks rhetorically before unfolding the map and turning to face the forest. Sam leans over his shoulder, before turning sharply into a forceful sneeze. Both you and Dean turn to stare at him. Sam wipes his nose as he’s met with both your looks, Dean’s grimace and your amusement. He frowns irritatedly before waving it off.

“I’m fine! Figure out where we are, Dean.”

Dean shakes his head, gazing back over the map.

“I think… that we’re here,” he accentuates with a jab to the river on the sodden map, “so that means that we need to go that way.“

He gestures up a soft hill and begins walking again, you trailing behind and Sam bringing up the rear. You fall into step beside him, lumbering along in Dean’s wake. Up close you could see the dark circles under his eyes, the undeniable consequence of his sleeping habits. Hell, none of you had gotten good sleep in a long while. But you knew Sam had it the worst. Occasionally you’d hear his low-voiced discussions with Dean, spoken only when they thought you were out of earshot. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, not at all, despite the teasing and the way he seemed consistently annoyed with you. He hated talking about his dreams, feeling like he was burdening someone with his own issues. Even with Dean he struggled. You’re interrupted out of your psycho-analysis of Sam as he realizes you’re staring. Again, but this time he could see the subtle concern in your gaze. It bothered him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head as you turn back to look ahead. You recognize the pullout a few feet ahead, where Dean was already brushing leaves off the Impala. You’d never been happier to see that car, and Sam seems to have a similar sentiment as he sighs in relief. 

The ride back to the bunker was quiet. Dean was too tired to put any music in, and the rain had quieted to a gentle tapping on the hood of the car. Cas was waiting when you got back, offering a quick congratulations on your success with the ghost before baiting Dean into another hunt. Sam had relentlessly tried to convince all of you that he was functioning as usual, that he could go with Dean and Cas. He was soon after proven wrong by the hellish coughing fit that followed his lame debate. So now it was just the two of you, and Sam had locked himself in his room with a box of tissues. All the better for you. It wasn’t like you wanted to listen to or take care of an irritated, fever-ridden Sam. You’d offered him some tea to help with his throat before he left to sulk in his room, which he’d accepted begrudgingly. He still refused to accept the fact that he was ill. You had attempted to research for long enough, disrupted in your focus each time Sam came in or out of the kitchen. You finally decided to check on him, whether he liked it or not.

“Sam? I have soup,” you say through his door, bowl in one hand and the other on the knob.

“I don’t like soup,” he grumbled hoarsely from the other side.

“Too bad.”

You push the door open, receiving a huff from him. He was laying back, four blankets over his lap and a fan pushing cold air towards him from a few feet away. Empty mugs littered his bedside table, along with a bottle of aspirin and a half empty pack of cold medicine capsules. A few tissues had been balled up and tossed around the trash can. You held in a snicker.

“Oh, how the mighty fall,” you quote. Sam sighs again, exasperatedly. You set the soup (mushroom) on his bedside table before turning to the TV.

“Love Island? Seriously?”

He furrows his brows at your judgement.

“It’s really not that bad. I mean, obviously it’s fake, but it’s somewhat entertaining. Better than whatever’s on cable, I guess.”

You shrug, picking up tissues and tossing them into the garbage before gathering the mugs, Sam watching your tidying carefully.

“You really don’t have to do that,” he says, turning the volume down on the TV. 

“It’s fine,” you reply, carrying the stack of mugs out of the room, when Sam’s voice stops you.

“Can I… have more of that tea that you made earlier? Please,” He asks. He much preferred coffee over tea, but ever since you had made him earl grey, (with a bit of milk and honey) it had become a quick favorite. 

You turn and smirk.

“You like it?”

“It’s not bad,” he said, shrugging.

Your smirk remains as you walk to the kitchen and set the empty mugs near the sink, setting the kettle back over the stove. For some reason, you were happy he liked your tea. And that he wasn’t being as stubborn as usual. You had been slightly caught off guard with his change in demeanor, from irritated to benign. After a few minutes of breathing in steam, the kettle whistles, announcing that it was finished boiling. You pour the water into one of the only remaining clean mugs and follow the routine of what you’d made before, when a shadow moving in the corner of your eye almost causes you to knock the still-hot mug over. The thing clears its throat roughly and you realize who it is.

“Jesus!” You say, steadying the mug.

Sam’s eyes meet yours, expression shifting from hard-set to attentive, brows furrowed slightly in concern.

“D’you need help?” He asks, taking the mug and holding it in his hands, looking down into the swirls of milk in the dark like he was searching for an untold prophecy. You watch in amusement as he sips the tea, making a face as it burns his tongue.

“It’s hot,” you add, smiling as he scoffs and sets the mug aside.

“You need to get back to bed.”

He rolls his eyes.

“What, so I have a curfew now?”

There goes soft, polite Sam. You sigh. This was going to be a long night. You usher him back to his room and somehow convince him to more medicine. He lays back on his bed, observing you as you lean in the doorway.

“You just going to stand there?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow.

You shrug.

“I can leave. You need to sleep anyways.”

“I’m not tired.“

You roll your eyes, when a grin starts to spread across your face.

“Y’know, I don’t think that I’ve ever seen you get sick. Between the awful crap you come into contact with and your sleeping tendencies, you’d think there would’ve been at least one instance. But no. Somehow you avoid any illness. How’d you do it? Bribe a god? Is it something in those so-called ‘health shakes’ of yours? Honestly, it’s a medical mystery. You should be studied.”

Sam listens to your slight ramble, face growing more and more skeptical.

“Those shakes are actually good for you,” he replies.

“Out of everything I just said, that’s what you choose to defend?” You say, resisting the urge to scoff.

Sam rolled his eyes.

You look him over for a moment, before walking toward the desk to pick up the few newer balled-up tissues.

“Seriously though, you should at least try to get some sleep now. Even if you don’t want to. And, you’re probably too fatigued for the dreams-”

As soon as it slipped out you knew you shouldn’tve said anything. Sam looks to you as soon as it comes out, narrowing his eyes.

“Lemme guess— Dean?” He asks, irritation flooding his tone.

“No, no. I’ve heard you talk about them. With Dean. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I swear,” you add, “but I’ve heard enough.”

You’re both quiet for a moment.

“You could talk to me about them, Sam. If you wanted to. My opinion of you won’t change,” you say, voice much lower than it was before.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just not your problem,” he says, sucking in a breath. 

You sit down in the chair, facing him but avoiding his gaze.

“It can be our problem. All of us. This is really corny, but you’re not alone, Sam. Really.”

He sniffs.

“That was corny,” he agrees, laughing and then smiling slightly, “but… thanks.”

The lamp light cast shadows over his face, and you could see the dimples of his genuine smile. You suddenly wanted to kiss them, a thought that a you’re alarmed by, before it slips away.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask, leaning forward to press the back of your hand to his forehead. He looks surprised, eyes flicking up to yours. They stay there, his lips parted like he was going to say something but never does. You smile, and his smile returns, softer but still present. And despite his runny nose and fever-flushed face, you kiss him. It isn’t rushed, or passionate or lustful or wanton. It’s just a kiss. But it means so much. Finally feeling comfortable. Safe. Needed. He goes rigid for a moment, before finally catching up and kissing back. His lips are slightly chapped, but also soft. You kiss the sides of his lips, his dimples as he grins into you. Then he grabs your shoulders and pulls back slightly, breathlessly, still smiling.

“Fantastic… that’s how I feel. But also- sick. And I don’t want you to-”

You laugh, “Oh, so now you admit it?”

[oceansprompts]

text message prompts

[text] You okay?

[text] GO TO BED!

[text] hey you better be alive in there

[text] SOS save me please holy shit

[text] call me this date is going so bad

[text] I have way too much shit to do.

[text] Honestly I'm really worried about you.

[text] Why are you trending on Twitter?

[text] Please let me come over and pet your (pet).

[text] We are in the same building, you could come talk to me.

[text] It's not going to work out.

[text] This is a terrible idea.

[text] people have fetishes

[text] They really do crucify anyone these days huh

[text] I don't know why but that really means me want to stab you

[text] That movie was awful.

[text] For the love of god please help me

[text] I fucked up. I fucked up really bad.

[text] I'm blocking you.

[text] YOU ONE BRAINCELLED BITCH

[text] I regret swiping right.

[text] Everyone lies on their dating profiles.

[text] That absolutely can't be an actual picture of you.

[text] This forced open my third eye and I saw the devil

[text] I'm like a child in line for the newest fucked up disney ride

-

[text] That's just all fucking sorts of fucked up

[text] Why are we here? To suffer? Every other day I get messages that cause pain

[text] In the department of old man fucking, we've got you beat.

[text] have you gotten any work done?

[text] I am beyond shame, try again

[text] You left your left your underwear at my place.

[text] Don't you dare put this on Facebook.

[text] My brother in Christ you're being haunted

[text] I want to wring you like a wet towel and slap you against a wall

[text] The mind is weak but the body is funky

[text] I'm a zombie the law can't stop me.

[text] Jealous of my massive honkers

[text] We left you to die to play minecraft

[text] She would never ever take away one of these stupid fucking hats

[text] I puked all over the Uber driver's backseat.

[text] I just took a screenshot of that and posted it to Reddit

[text] You said you'd be right back and it's been months.

[text] Can't we talk about this face to face?

[text] Yeah, you'll come learn I just have a thing for milk

[text] Why did you like one of my pics from 2014?

[text] Now's as good a time as any to exchange nudes.

[text] Why would you send me an eggplant emoji?

[text] I write five paragraphs, pouring my heart out, and all you reply with is k?!

[text] Who would dare to lie on the internet?

[text] When I die, please delete all my shit off the internet

[text] He's so hot, I briefly started texting like a straight person

[text] And because I'm god and I've decided that; no, in fact, I'm not done.

-

[text] I know you love bloopy reggae jams, now is not the time.

[text] You better not be standing catatonic in your room again.

[text] God has abandoned his children but unfortunately for you I pay child support and I will smite thee.

[text]: My neighbor just told me he can fix my water heater for 50 bucks. I’m skeptical.

[text]: Do you have any idea how much it costs to buy apples? I paid 10 dollars for 6.

[text]: I mean, I wouldn’t say I have a problem with buying Squishmallows..

[text]: Hey, so you know how you told me no dog? *sends pic* I don’t do well with no’s.

[text] Stuart Little is a bitch and Remy could take him any day.

[text]: My roommate just said that Lola Bunny is hot. I’m moving out.

[text]: Hey I posted that vid of you drunk, singing Ariana Grande, wearing all black and people said not to do it again. Sorry.

[text]: Do you think the price is ever right? Like, I feel like it’s not.

[text]: I booped your nose. Boop the last five people you texted or–nothing happens really.

[text]: I’m actually in the ER and it’s a long story that involves Best Day Ever from spongebob.

[text]: I fucking hate you–wait you’re not my ex. Who are you?

[text]: You ever ask yourself if birds see a bee and just go ‘wow a bee’? im high.

[text]: sometimes all i think about is–sour patch kids. bet you thought it was you.

[text]: I love you—not as much as I love my dog. But still a lot!

[text]: I found a cat on the way home and now it’s mine. But it hates my guts so this should be fun.

[text]: I have questions about the marvel cinematic universe…how long do you have?

[text]: why do donald duck and winnie the pooh not have to wear pants but other people do?

[text]: Hey you know that show floor is lava? I may have turned the apartment into that..this isn’t a joke, btw. the floor is sticky.

[text]: I bought too much soap off etsy and now I don’t know what to do with it…I smell like Captain America.

[text]: On a scale of one to ten, how many drinks would you need to sleep with me? This isn’t a tiktok trend…or it is.

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 6

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

My god this header is ass but I was an emo kid what can I say

Series Masterlist : Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

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Chapter summary: Past. Remy teaches you to drive Present. Separated, you and Logan speak to others about each other.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religous trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

3.0 words

Before

“Remy!!!” You giggle, the car driving slow as a snail, with you behind the wheel.

“You are doing great, pistache, but I think you can speed up a little more now.”

You nod, smiling as you tap the gas just a bit. The car jolts forward, making Remy gasp and grab at his chest.

“Shoot!”

Remy laughs. “C’est bon, just keep going.”

He was teaching you to drive. Your parents and husband did not think you needed to learn how to drive, which you thought was silly.

‘What if I need to go somewhere?’

‘Where could you possibly need to go without me?’

‘What if we have our baby, and there’s an emergency?’

‘Call me, I’ll take care of you. Besides, you should probably worry about managing to get pregnant before you worry too hard about that, babe.’

The memory made your skin crawl, and made you more determined to learn yourself. In the distance of the parking lot, you can see Logan leaning against his bike, smoking a cigar.  When you told him during your regular lunches you returned too that he was going to teach you to drive, Logan tried to insist it should be him instead. You told him you weren’t going to learn on a motorcycle before a car. When he pouted, you said that you’d let him teach you to ride a motorcycle one day. That made him smile. He was still apprehensive, but you promised he could watch just in case.

“Look out!” Remy’s call brought you back to reality, him grabbing the steering wheel and turning only just in time to swerve the curve of the car from crashing straight into it. The car jumps the curb and you hear a loud pop, but as soon as you had heard his exclamation, you had taken your foot off the gas. For a moment the car sputtered slowly as you drove back onto the parking, then it stop with a shake. Logan was there, his hands on the hood and preventing the little bit of engine power that made the car go in drive from pushing forward. The fear in his eyes as he locked into yours make your heart clench, but you were too busy feeling guilty for whatever you did to Remy’s car.

“Remy! I’m so sorry!” You exclaim as you put the car into park.

His hand is on his heart, but he’s looking you over. “Don’t worry about me, I can heal. Did you hit your head?”

“But your car!” Tears blur at your eyes fast. This is why you never learned. You were too stupid to learn. You were just a dumb stupid idiot girl who could drive and couldn’t do math and could get pregant so what was the fucking point of you? Stupid, stupid, stu-

Strong hands pulled your face to him, eyes wide and blown out and looking over you. “Baby doll, are you hurt? Is anything hurting?”

The tears stream down your face, panic rising in your gut. Remy was going to hate you. Your friend was going to hate you.

“I broke his car!!” You exclaim, sobbing loudly. 

Confusion flitters across his face. Ever gentle, Logan takes your face in his hands, getting close so that you couldn’t avoid looking at him. “Baby, look at me. Need you to look at me.” When your eyes focused on his dark brown ones again, he gave you a little smile. “Good girl. Now listen to me. You didn’t break his car, the tire popped and the rim is a little busted, but- hey, hey listen to me,- but, Remy isn’t mad, because I’m gonna fix it, right Remy?”

From behind you, Remy speaks, his hand on your back calming you. “I wouldn’t be mad either way, pistache. I promise, it isn’t a big deal.”

You sniffle. “...Did I hurt you guys?” You ask, looking at Logan but directing the question to both.

Logan shakes his head. “We he-”

“I’m not asking about the healing, I’m asking if you got hurt.”

“Little bit in my palms, but it’s nothing now. You were going slow.”

Remy. “Not one bit, I promise. It’s okay.”

You give a little nod. “Okay.”

“That’s my girl.” Logan thumbs away a tear. 

After you calmed down down enough to tell him you were hurt, just shaken up, Logan look visibly relieved. Remy went to the store with Logan’s card (Remy promised it was okay, but Logan wanted to pay), and got the parts Logan needed to repair, Logan took you up to your room.

“Are you sure you’re okay, dolly?”

“Yeah… yeah I’m okay… Can you… maybe stay with me while Remy’s out?”

“I’ll stay with you as long as you need me.”

The accident had scared you, but what scared you more was that they’d get mad at you, hurt you. You were so prepared to take a beating, and you would have deserved it. 

“Remy isn’t mad, right?” You ask once again, still nervous.

Logan frowned. “No, no he isn’t. Not one bit. In fact, he’s probably forgotten all about it and is flirting with some unlucky cashier as we speak.”

That made you chuckle, but quickly even that joy was gone. “I thought… I thought he was gonna start yelling at me… or hit me or something… I don’t understand how he’s so calm.”

His frown turned into something dark, a coldness washing his face that sent a chill through you. This wasn’t the Logan you knew, but you’d seen something akin to it before, when the man at the store yelled at you. “Has he ever hurt you?”

Your eyes go wide. “No! No, oh my god, absolutely not.”

“Has he ever yelled at you? Because I’ll kill him, I swear to god dolly, I’ll-”

“No! Logan,” You take his hand, thumbing over the hair at the top. “I promise, Remy has never so much as rolled his eyes at me.”

There was a pause, Logan searching you for a lie, checking if you were protecting him, your soft little heart not wanting him hurt… He was skeptical.

“Then why did you think he was going to?” When Logan asks this, you shift uncomfortably in your spot at the window seat, looking away, but he squeezes the hand you hold him with. “Talk to me, please.”

You still can’t look at him, ashamed to admit what happened to you, and not really telling the full story… but Logan deserved to know. The way he looked at you, the way you felt for him… he was as good as they came. He deserved to know.

“I told you I was married…” Another light squeeze. “He um… he used to beat me. Badly…”

Logan knew this of course, Charles letting you in on this when you were sick… Ever since then, he’s been trying to figure out who your husband is so he can go slice him open, leaving his guts hanging on your church’s door, intestines wrapped around the door handle. No luck so far.

“How badly, doll?”

“Bad enough to get frequent flyer points at the hospital.” You try to joke, but Logan didn’t think it was funny.

“And no one thought it was suspicious?”

You were so uncomfortable, needing so badly to get away from this conversation. Shame filled you, but what happened, what really fully happened was so much more worse than you could ever tell him, so you gave a simpler version.

“No. I tried to tell a doctor but he… said it was my fault.” Saying it was your fault was only the half of it.

Logan looked like he was ready to commit murder. 

“Tell me his name, doll. I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

*

You didn’t, refused to. He didn’t need to go googling that name and find what comes up.

Soon, Remy returned and Logan acquiesced to going to fix the car, only leaving you when it seemed like you might have another anxiety attack if Remy’s car wasn’t fixed.

You watch from your window seat as Logan worked. He had the car up on a jack, replacing the rim and the tire like new. He looked so good like this, that tight white tank top and blue jeans, muscles straining against himself and dirtying up in grease… he looked so good. Things were getting harder and harder to retrain with him, and god, when he was like this? He was exactly the masculinity you were taught to idolize, but with a softness you didn’t expect.

Your fingers were ghosting over your panties before you could stop yourself. A tingly rush came through as you touch over your clit, a mix of shame and pleasure filling you. You never, ever touched yourself. It was a sin, it was wrong. Yout thought. Honestly, you were still recovering from everything you and your husband went through, you hadn’t had time to re-evaluate your beliefs yet. It was all so daunting… but when you swirled over your clit while looking at Logan… you couldn’t help but moan. 

Fuck it.

You were on your way to hell as it was considering what you had done back in Carolina, this was the least of your worries.

Scrambling, you pull off your panties, your skirt giving you easy access to explore your body and feeling what you liked. You imagined Logan touching you, caressing you, telling you the sweet words you’d never heard before.

‘Such a pretty girl, dolly’ he’d say, that rough voice of his crooning against your stomach as he’d touch you. ‘So pretty and good, sweet little angel.’

Logan would make you feel worthy wheen he’d slide his fingers inside.

You pump yourself with your right hand, giving your clit attention with your left and panting heavily. Eyes remained on Logan as he lifted the tire up to the rim, mounting it on again and those muscling bulging even from your view 3 floors up. You pump faster, imagine his words and gentle touches. Logan was always so gentle with you, so careful and kind and filling you with praise you didn’t get before.

‘You’re doing so well, dolly.’ He would tell you, you know he would. Logan always complimented your food, your clothes, how you were with the children… surely he’d compliment your body, how good you were for him… he called you something today, a good girl… yeah he’d call you a good girl knuckles deep, right? ‘Good girl, my little baby doll’

As Logan bolted the tire to car, you feel the orgasm approaching and echo hose words he’d said in the car, over and over again as you watched and imagined it was Logan touching you, ‘good girl, good girl, good girl’ On repeat until it crashed into you.

Caught by surprise, you cry out his name, shouting in pleasure as you ride out your orgasm on your fingers,  wave after wave of pleasure gushing out onto your fingers, body shaking with the intensity. You’d come here and there with your husband. He was pretty good looking and occasionally made things good for you, but this? This was something else. Just the idea of Logan surpassed anything your husband had given you.

Sweaty and panting, you rest of the window, forehead pressed to the cool air.

When you open your eyes, your body ran cold.

Logan was looking right at you.

After

“It’s Logan’s, isn’t it?”

You gasp, startled so much from Scott just appearing behind her more than the words, but as you clean up your spilled rice from the counter, what he said sunk in.

“Sorry.” Scott mumbles, brushing the rice into his hand to throw away. “Thought you heard me come in. I wasn’t quiet.”

“I’m partially deaf, right ear.” You tap it, trying to steer him away from his questions. “Can’t really hear much out of there.”

He’s still staring at you. “That didn’t answer my question.”

Heat creeps up your body. You didn’t want anyone to know, but you were also scared for Scott. Everyone knew their animosity. That will happen when you sleep with a man’s wife. “I don’t know what you mean.” If Scott figured out you were pregnant with Logan’s baby, it wouldn’t take long for him to figure out you aren’t talking to Logan. If he thinks anything is amiss in your relationship, you’re concerned he’ll confront Logan. 

“You can talk to me.”

The urge to laugh at that was strong. You couldn’t even tell Remy what happened, why would Scott think you’d talk to him? You barely knew him. And thank fucking god Mr. Xavier was away or you’re sure he’d pick up on all this. You didn’t want to talk about it. You wanted it to have never happened. You wanted your Logan back. You wanted the Logan you knew before.

“Did he hurt you?”

You hadn’t realized you’ve been staring off into space, but his words make you snap over to him, looking right into his glasses.

“No!” You say quickly, the words sputtering out as denial seeps into your bones. “No, Logan wouldn’t hurt me, Mr. Summers. Logan just wouldn’t. He would do that!” Tears burn behind your eyes as you protest too much. “Logan is kind, and he’s gentle and he- he protects me! He wouldn’t hurt me!”

“Hun-”

“HE WOULDN'T! He protects me! Logan wouldn’t hurt m-me!” The final words came out in a sob, and you realize how suspicious you sounded. Were you saying this to Scott, or to yourself? Were you really denying what he’d done? If you were, you were as crazy and Logan was… but something about your words felt… good. Logan wouldn’t do that to you. Logan isn’t a rapist. 

There’s a beat of silence, Scott’s mouth opening to protest, but he seems to think better of making a crying girl cry more.

“Alright hun, if you say so. Logan wouldn’t hurt a fly.” There is a hint of sarcasm, but it was light enough you could brush it off. Your Logan wouldn’t hurt a fly. Your Logan came into your room as you screamed at a wolf spider, trapped it in his hands and let it go out the window. Your Logan held your in his arms when the nightmares didn’t relent, even though he had woken up from his own. No one understood your Logan. 

*

The girl was sleeping in the back seat.

Kurt and Logan’s pairing had been intentional. Kurt, a devout Catholic, was there to try and sway girl family with theology, convince them that their mutant daughter, Cecilia, was not possessed, but rather gifted by God, who had a divine purpose for her. They preferred to keep families together if possible, not wanting to separate children from their families.

When that didn’t work, and Kurt’s bleeding heart struggled to do what had to be done, that’s where Logan came in. No one was killed, but Logan came close with the father. When he looked at the young girl, he saw you as a teenager, needing help.

Now, as they drive back to New England, she rested, underweight and no sleep for days. They’d stopped at a Culvers, Kurt’s favorite, and got her a whole meal with ice cream included, which she devoured, and they were off.

“You and the young fräulein on the outs, my fruend?”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Everyone single one of you is so fucking nosy.”

“Judging by the tone, I’d say that’s a yes”

Kurt was lucky Logan liked him. He sighs, gripping the steering wheel as Kurt chows down on some fries. “There may have been a mild… disagreement.”

He chuckles. “And what did you do?”

“The fuck makes you think it’s my fault?”

“Deine kleine Puppe würde keiner Fliege etwas zuleide tun”

“English”

“You’ve lived all these years and you never bothered to learn another language?”

“Kurt.”

“Your little doll wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Logan snapped his head over to his driving partner. “What the fuck did you just call her?” His tone was harsh, an aggression Kurt wasn’t used to towards him.

Kurt frowned. “Little doll?”

“Don’t fuck’n call her that.”

A beat. “Why?”

“That’s for me. Not you.”

The confusion was clear, but Kurt knew better than to push it.

“When was the last time she’s been to church?”

That made Logan glance over again. “Since she left her family, probably.”

He nodded. “Maybe offer to bring her some weekend.”

Logan couldn’t help but laugh at that. “The church sent her off to be married to a whole ass adult at 16 and let her get abused. I don’t think-”

“The IBLP is a fucking cult, Logan. But not every church is like that.”

A scoff escapes him. “I’m sure. Let me guess, you want her to go to your church?”

Kurt smacked him. “You know damn well I can’t go to mass looking like a demon. Cece’s family about had a panic attack seeing me. No, Logan, I mean like, something less intense. I’m not an idiot, I know you can’t just drop someone into a catholic church. Something like Unitarian Universalist, or a nondenominational church, somewhere she can worship how she chooses.”

There’s a bit of quiet, but Logan is thinking it over. His first instinct was to keep you away from any church ever after what happened to you, but clearly not everyone religious is bad. Hell, Kurt was going to be a priest for a while, and he’s alright. Maybe you needed that. You did still believe… after all your long late-night talks, he knew that much… Considering the baby you were carrying, maybe this would help calm your nerves. You needed hope, a reminder in love and how important family was, how important the family he had with you was…

Thanks for all the love you've been giving this series! It genuinly means so much.

As per the last poll, Im surprised t find remy is makin everyone suspicious! Crazy!

Anyway, now that we've met Kurt and Scott....

If you have any idea for a poll next time, let me know!

Also go ahead and comment or send me anons with any songs you think fit the playlist!

As always, comments mean the world. thank you for all the wonderful comments and the indepth thoughts!

Dark Logan and Dark Scott with reader

dark reader x logan

Logan pregnant scotts wife reader

@multiversed-daydreamer @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @hindi-si-ikay @samsamsantos @madamerubrum @shybluebirdninja a @hornystan @rogueinmymind @accountforreading123 @yawnetu @princessanglophile @and-claudia @new-genesis1000 @teaganthemorningstar @oldloganslittleslut @zaggprincess2 @bugsinmyeyez @groundclueless @cosmolight

[authorsofghosts]

Ya miss me? | Gambit x Reader NSFW

Summery: Gambit comes back from a mission and you missed him a little too much.

Themes: SMUT, PURE SMUT, Aftercare, Condoms (wrap it before ya tap it y'all), Cum Play, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Humping, Multiple Rounds, Needy!Reader, Oral, Semi-Injured!Remy (mentioned like twice). Lemme know if we missed anything.

Word Count: ~2.5k

SMUT WARNING. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI.

You look up from your phone as Remy stumbles into your shared room, his red-on-black eyes darting to watch you get up with the bed. Before he can even make a snarky, loving comment towards your excitement, you crash into him, your arms wrapped around his torso and your lips against his own. There's nothing more you've wanted since he left than this moment, seeing him again.

You notice the slight wheeze as you meet him, pulling out of the kiss and looking over him. His face is scratched up and his lips chapped with dried blood. He sees the worry in your eyes, "Cher, I'm fine, really."

"Are you sure?" You say, looking up at him as your hand paws at his chest, the cold metal of his body armor sending a chill down your body.

"Better now that I'm with you." He says with a smirk before leaning down to kiss you again. This time, you notice the iron taste of the dried blood on his lips, the way his breath shakes slightly as he gets closer to you. He's clearly not fine, but he obviously wants you as much as you want him.

You stumble back to the bed, his broad torso above you as he pressed his growing erection to your thigh, smiling into the kiss as he hears your whimpers as he grinds against you. "Ya miss me?"

"More than anything." You pant between breaths, fumbling to take his coat off.

"That's good, cher. Means ya really love me, yah?" He smiles, kissing down your neck as he helps with his coat. His hands cup your faces, stroking your cheek with his leather gloves. He listens to your whines and whimpers until your hands grip his auburn hair. "Feisty lil t'ang, ain't cha?"

You grin, nodding as he pulls back looking down at you. "Lay on the bed, Rem. Lemme take care of you." You mumble, staring into his ruby eyes. He raises an eyebrow before obliging. You watch as he goes to snap off his body armor, reaching out to stop him. "Nuh uh. Not yet."

You smile, straddling his middle and grinding yourself against the metal abs. You moan out at the friction, whining as your thighs squeeze around him tighter. Remy watches with wide eyes, mouth agape as he watches you work yourself along the faux, metal abs of the armor around his core.

"You been wantin' ta do dat a long time, huh?" He chuckles, his hands resting on your hips. You can't speak, too focused on grinding your hips along the ab like bumps in his armor, panting softly. "Mm, I betcha dreamed of it, yah?"

"S-shut up..." You whine out as his hands guide you quicker along his abdomen. He laughs softly, his smirk never faltering as he watches you. "Ah, Remy..."

"Ya close, cher? Getting off just like dat, huh? Such a good lil t'ang ya are." He laughs soft, grabbing your chin to make you look down at him. "Yer not allowed to cum just yet, mon amour. Not till yer riding my cock."

"W-who said I was about to cum?" You snap back snarkily, but he doesn't even have to tell you. The way you leaned down towards him, moaning his name shakily. You were on the verge of orgasm but he stole that high from you, pushing you off his body armor and quickly taking it off while you sit perfectly in his lap.

"You gon be good for me?" He ask, voice husky as he pulls you down, his scruffy stubble against your cheek as he whispers, "You gon ride my big cock, yah? You gonna take good care of ya Gambit?"

You nod, whimper softly as he whispers in your ear, breath hot against the shell, sending shivers down your spine and heating up the coil in your stomach. "Y-yes, sir."

"Good, good... dat's it." He coos, his hands traveling down your body before resting on your hips again, gripping your loose, lounge pants, "Lift up fa me, sweetie." He commands, voice gentle yet dominate.

You listen, of course, not having any other choice, melting at just the thought of having him inside you. He slips off your pants, smirking as he sees the obvious display of your arousal. "Mm, you really wan' me dat bad, baby?"

You nod as he fully undresses you, running your throbbing hole over his massive bulge in his pants. "Yer gon' be good and take it all, or else I ain't givin' it ta ya." He growls, making sure you know even if you're on top of him, he's still in control. Even if you said you're going to take care of him, he can command and break you whenever he wants.

Before you know it, he has his cock against your stomach, slowly rolling a condom down it. You watch, eyes locked as his fingers move down his shaft. He chuckles, making you look up at his face. "You always enjoy dat part, huh? Watching me stroke my cock..."

His voice sends shivers down your body. You nod, quickly positioning yourself on the tip of his cock, looking down for permission. He smiles, his hands on your hips lowering you, "Go ahead, cher. Ride me. Take care of me like you said you would, darlin'."

You whine softly as you stretch around his cock, slowly pushing more of it into your hole. You moan out, head falling back as he bucks up into you, forcing more of himself into your tight, hungry entrance. "Fuck, Remy, fuck..." You whimper, realizing that you really missed the feeling of him inside you.

"Mmhmm, been too long since ya had dis, huh? Yer so tight 'round my dick, grippin' it like a vice." He laughs, thrusting up into you, slamming the rest of his length into your tight hole. He chuckles as you whine, groaning softly as you fall forward, your hands landing on his chest. "You gon' bounce and ride my dick or just sit on it?"

"Sh-shut up, I-I needa... mm.. get used to it again." You mumble, your mouth filling with saliva. Swallowing hard, you move up, his cock dragging out of you before you plop back onto his lap, pushing it deeper into you than before. This causes Gambit to moan out, a grunt to try and keep quiet.

"Dat's it, baby, work my cock." He whispers, his accent becoming more prominent as you bounce on his length. Your moans mingle with his, the soft pants as you ride him, his thick dick dragging in and out of your tight, convulsing hole. "Soo good fa me. Such a good lil t'ang for me, yah? Good, good..."

His voice sends you over the edge as you cum, you hole clenching his length as you continue to ride him through your orgasm. "That's right, cher, that's it, baby." He whispers as he pumps into you, not letting you rest, driving for his own release.

"P-please, ah... Remy..." You pant out, whining as he bucks his cock further into you, holding you by your hips to help driving him in more.

"Almost dere, sweetie. Gonna cum real soon, den we can take as long a break ya need, cher." He grunts, huffing as he thrusts deeper into you, his length throbbing. His breathing picks up and you can tell he's close as he rams into you harder. He curses under his breath, groaning as he unloads himself into the condom.

As you fall forward on his chest, he strokes your hair, chuckling softly. He pulls out, taking off the condom and tying it off before tossing it towards the bathroom. "You okay, cher?"

"Mhm..." You hum, fucked out of your mind as you hug his torso tightly. You nuzzle against his neck, softly nipping at his exposed skin.

"Use ya words, baby." He coos, biting his lip as he tilts your chin to look up at him.

"Yeah... I'm good." You mumble, closing your eyes and pressing your ear to his chest, his heartbeat racing underneath. His laughing rumbles through his chest as he strokes your back, kneading into your skin soothingly.

"You need anything, darlin'? Water?" He whispers softly.

"Uhuh... maybe..." You whisper back. He turns over onto his side, gently laying you on your back and getting up. He walks over to the bathroom, picking up the discarded condom from earlier as he goes. He comes back a few minutes later with a small cup of water and kneels by the bed, helping you sit up.

"Here, cher. Drinky drinky, mon amour." He laughs softly, bringing the cup to your lips. As you gulp down the water, he caressing your cheek, staring at you with pure love.

"You're so pretty, baby..." You whisper, looking at him with a wide, cock drunk smile. He laughs softly, pressing a kiss against your lips.

"I'm da pretty one, huh? I thought that was you. You're the prettiest lil t'ang I've ever seen." He murmurs against your skin, nuzzling against your face as he crawls onto the bed, the cup sitting on the bedside table.

"Nuh, you are..." You mumble, giggling as his muscular arms wrap around your smaller body, a stark reminder of your size difference. "I love you."

"I love ya, too, mon amour. Je t'aime aussi, tellement." He says, whispering softly into your ear, his nose nuzzling into your hair. Whenever he speaks french, your knees get weak, and he knows.

He chuckles, his calloused hands rubbing up and down your body as you shiver, continuing to whisper soft nothings into your ear. His words get softer as his face slowly gets lower, turning into gentle kisses. They start slow and gentle but get hungrier and sloppier the lower he gets. You moan out, your back arching off the bed as you whimper.

"Need me again already?" He chuckles, his fingers running up and down your thigh. You nod, panting softly and you feel your core start to ache. "Mm, lemme get another condom and you can have me."

"N-no, wait-" You mutter out, your hands on his chest. "C-can I... suck you off? Please?" You ask, eyes wide and pleading as you watch his reaction closely.

His red-on-black eyes widen as his smirks. "Yeah, baby, of course." He chuckles, getting off of you and laying on his back. You quickly get on your hands and knees and position yourself between his muscular legs, hands wrapping around his dick and pumping slowly as you situate yourself. His head falls back against the pillows, eyes rolling and mouth agape as you work his length. "Fuck..."

You smile as he curses, licking your lips as you watch his face contort in pleasure. You slowly run your tongue up and down his shaft, a rough breath escaping his throat. "Fuck yeah, ah... forgot how good your tongue felt on dis dick..."

You giggle slightly as he praises you, kissing his tip before taking it in your mouth slowly. He hisses, his chest falling as he moans out. Your hand travels under his tight black shirt as your other plays with his balls. "So good, baby, such a pretty lil t'ang with my cock in your mouth." He groans, breathing heavier as he watches your head bob up and down.

Pushing more of his cock into your mouth, his moans get more frequent, your tongue working around his thick length, your hand pumping whatever you can't fit in while the other continues to juggle his balls. "Yah, keep going, oh... That's right, suck dis fat dick like the good lil bitch you are." He hisses out, his cock twitching in your mouth as precum coats your tongue.

You meet his eyes, your brows furrowing as he degrades and praises you at the same time. You push more of his cock into your mouth, your throat convulsing around the head and pushing him over the edge. He grabs you by your hair and yanks your head up and down his length, causing your eyes to roll back as you lose control of what you were so confident in.

You gag as he pushes all of himself down your throat, pulling you back and pushing it right back in. This repeats this a few times before he starts cumming. Most of it goes straight down your throat, till he pulls out and paints your face with the last few spurts of his thick, white cream.

"Lookin' so pretty now, huh? Covered in my cum." He chuckles, fist still gripping your hair. You manage a small smile, tears streaming down your face without you even realizing it. "Lemme clean this up..." He coos, licking his lips as he smears it around.

"Remy- Rem, stop that," you laugh softly, shaking your head.

"Nuh uh, I'm doing so well." He laughs, pulling you onto him. He presses his lips against yours, licking a small bit of his release from your lips before snaking his tongue into your mouth.

He moans into the kiss as he deepens it, wrapping his arms around your waist, hands possessively squeezing your ass. He chuckles as you squirm, his grip on your bottom getting rougher. "R-Remy, stop-"

"Make me." He growls into your ear, his hands squeezing and kneading into your skin rougher, one traveling up and the other traveling down.

You groan, whimpering slightly before overpowering him enough to sit up. You bite your lip as you look down at him, a small smirk coming to your face. You straddle his chest, taking some of the smeared jizz off your face and sticking your fingers in his mouth. His eyes widen for a moment before he laughs around your fingers, happily licking them clean. "Oh, cher, you're gonna have to think of something else d'an that."

"You're a freak, you know that?"

"Mhm..." He hums, pulling your fingers out of his mouth before taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. The soft, romantic gesture makes you blush, despite the both of you being naked and the position you're in on top of his chest. "Ya love it though, darlin'."

"Course I do. What's not to love?" You laugh softly, grabbing a tissue from the side table and wiping your face before the sticky whiteness on your face dries. "You're still an asshole for doing that."

"Oh? Am I, cher? Or are ya just mad it wasn't yer idea? Hmm?"

"Shut up." You say with no bite to it, reaching over and grabbing another condom, putting the wrapper between your teeth and looking down at him. His eyes light up slightly as he grins, taking the wrapper and ripping it open.

"We ain't stopping for a while, huh?"

"Nope."

"You really missed me, huh?"