#also you know they wear these clothes with each other

[figthoughts]

What do u think Deans main kinks would be?? Tbf though I feel like he’d be into pretty much everything 😭 he’s a slut and we love him for it

you’re so real, that man loves sex and we do love him for it!!!! i personally hc dean as a switch, so i think his kinks would probably be quite general and would depend on his partner, but he’s definitely up for trying new things! 18+

— praise.

that man is heavily neglected when it comes to compliments and gentle touches. his eyes would light up at every little “you feel so good” or “good boy”. it doesn’t even matter if he’s praising you or the one being praised, he just loves seeing you happy and hearing how good he’s making you feel. he definitely sees sex as a way to relax and have fun with you, so he’d be all about wanting to make you feel beautiful and desired through praise and compliments. he shows his love through physical touch and gentle words.

— manhandling.

now hear me out with this. dean wouldn’t be big on being rough with you in the bedroom, considering how harsh the hunter life is. he’d want to be gentle with you, although he wouldn’t be super opposed to some choking or a cheeky little spank here and there. however, he’d love it if you got a little rough with him, like shoving him against a wall or onto the bed, just taking what you want. he’d definitely love when you get a little confident and grab him by the jaw to make him look at you or tug on his hair as he goes down on you. he just likes you touching him, even if it’s in a rougher way, it gets him all giddy and excited.

— teasing.

we all know this man is a brat. dean loves making inappropriate jokes that make you squirm and shoot him disapproving looks in public or touching you in teasing little ways, just to get you riled up. seeing you get all whiny and needy in the bedroom would make him go crazy, though he wouldn’t mind also being teased. in fact, he’d kinda love it. he’d love it if you’d walk around in tight little clothes, taunting him almost, or doing provocative little things just to mess with him. it’d be how you get him back. dean is definitely whining and begging if you tease him, “please, baby. i can’t take it anymore. need you so bad,” that kinda thing. he’d never tell you, but he loves it.

— roleplay.

dean would go crazy for a little roleplay with you. his favourite would definitely be cowboy x damsel in distress, although you playing naughty nurse would be a close second. initially, he’d be nervous about bringing up his lil fantasies with you. he’d wait until he knows you’re both comfortable enough with each other and your sex life. naturally, you wouldn’t be able to wipe the dopey grin off his face as you walk in wearing whatever silly little thing he asked you to. he’d just love it.

— cockwarming.

dean definitely is making you cockwarm him as soon as he gets back to see you after a hunt or something. just sitting in the deancave with his cock up your cunt as you watch some cheesy horror movie, neither of you bothering to move, just completely happy with feeling him inside you. of course, it would eventually lead to him pounding in and out of you, but at least for a while it’d be sweet and innocent.

— sonmo. (both consenting with prior discussion abt it)

this might be another hear me out, but considering dean is a slut, he’s up for sex just about anytime he can get it. he’d be extremely hesitant to try anything with you when you’re half asleep or fully unconscious (he just doesn’t wanna make you uncomfortable), but he’d be completely okay with waking up to his cock in your mouth or you using him while he’s half asleep to get yourself off late at night.

— mutual masturbation.

dean loves the idea of you touching yourself to the thought of him, so he’d definitely beg you to let him watch as you play with yourself. it’d start off slow, until his pants are so tight he has no choice but to let himself spring free and jerk himself off in front of you, while you’re busy trying to get off in front of him. he’d melt at that and the way you call his name when you cum. after that one time, dean’d beg you to let him watch again and again and again.

— edging.

this one’s definitely more-so for himself. dean’s definitely jacking it in motel showers when he’s on hunts, just edging himself in there to the thought of you. he’d be so close every time, your name on his lips as he strokes himself, but he’d pause his movements right before cumming, just teasing himself for as long as he can take it.

— public sex.

dean’s no stranger to a quickie in the impala or even perhaps in the alleyway behind a dingy little dive bar. the thrill of getting caught would drive him absolutely wild. he’d be gripping your jaw, whispering in your ear telling you to keep quiet and be good. public sex would probably force out a more dominant side of dean. he’d wanna have fun with you, whilst also making sure he’s in control of the situation just in case you actually do get caught.

— toys.

i’m not sure if i’d consider this a kink, but i’ll list it anyway. dean is definitely the kinda guy to see toys as an aid to better sex, instead of his competition. he’d love to see you writhing underneath him with a vibrator pressed against your pussy or perhaps even some handcuffs thrown into the mix (again, he’s not fussed on who’s being cuffed). he loves the idea of you using toys on your own when he’s away on hunts. he’d definitely be begging you over text to send him videos of you using them.

— other.

none of these are really kinks, but i do wanna mention them.

i fully believe at some point in your relationship, dean would bring up the idea of making a sex tape with you. it would be exclusively for yours and his eyes only, and he would definitely watch it and get off to it during hunts when you’re not there.

i also think dean would be a little cheeky and steal your panties to take away with him on longer hunts. sure, calling you and receiving pictures and videos helps when he’s away, but nothing beats the physicality of holding your panties in his hands, wrapping them around his cock and cumming into them. maybe this is something he does without telling you, but you’d know when a pair would go missing and then return when dean does. it wouldn’t take you long to figure out. and you wouldn’t really mind.

i believe anything to do with him causing you pain or distress would be a hard no for dean. he loves you and wants to make you feel good during sex, not see you all marked up and sore because of him. he wants you to feel safe and comfortable. he’s definitely the kinda guy to check in with you constantly, “does that feel good, baby? you want me to keep going?” or “tell me what you want”.

your comfortability and pleasure is number one priority for dean. always.

A/N: ahhh such a fun request. these are my personal headcanons for dean. idk how popular these opinions are but i see that man as a LOVER if he’s in a relationship!! <3

[islandtarochips]

Farmer!Ghost x Female!Reader

Arhtur's Note: I apologize for taking so long to post this everyone. It takes a while for me to find a good story to it and I was busy helping out with my family and work. So I hope this is worth the wait. Let me know if I miss anything or which part that doesn't make sense and I'll re-edit quickly! Thank you so much for your patience! And also, I have added the names of you guys having two friends. Just in case you get mixed if you thought they were part of the COD universe. Thank you! And enjoy!

Words: 3376

Halloween is tonight and everyone in town is busy preparing for this fun event. The mayor in town had already planned on making the best Halloween Festival YET!

There will be some foods, drinks, games, fun rides-

EVERYTHING that is on the list. And you were quite excited!

You even volunteered to help out with the food vendor. Along with your friends as well.

You were in charge of the food as you made sure that the orders will be delivered on that exact date in time. And you also offered your own cooking and baking for the little kids. The leaders of the committees agreed to it and will send someone to deliver EVERYTHING that you needed for the food preparation.

Which you don’t mind. So you and your friends are at the big hall, in the kitchen, busy cooking.

“This is SO exciting!” One of your friends said in a chirpy tone while putting the pans of cupcakes and a pan of cake into the oven. “This will be the BEST festival yet!”

The other friend of yours nodded as she agreed. “Yeah! And hopefully it’ll be better than LAST year.”

You just smiled at your two friends, who are named Rebecca and Sally, talking about the festival. You started to cook some nice meals for the special events before giving a taste test.

“Hey, what are you gonna wear for Halloween? I’m going to be that sexy vampire!”

“Mine is just being a witch. I’m also bringing that big cauldron for apple bobbing!”

You gave them a smile before hearing them asking you what you’re going to wear. You shook your head as you went back to cooking. “I don’t have anything to wear for the festival. Just casual clothes.”

“WHAT?!?” The two friends of yours had made that horror expression as if they received the news of someone DYING.

Rebecca had started to walk over to you as she stood next to you. “What do you mean you have nothing to wear for the festival? Come on! It’ll be so cool and cute of you wearing SOMETHING!”

You just shrugged at them. “I wanted to. Really. But to tell you the truth. I didn’t have time to look for one. I was SO busy getting everything ready before tonight. So for this year only, I’m not gonna wear anything.”

The two best friends looked at each other before looking back at you with an unsatisfying look.

Sally had walked up towards you before gently taking your cooking ware away from your hands. Which you looked at her with a confusing look.

“Girl! You can’t just leave us hanging with the costume! We’ll help you to get one!”

The other one nodded with agreement as she smiled at you. “Yeah! You can worry about the food while the two of us find you a GOOD looking outfit!”

You shook your head as a small smile appeared on your lips. “No no no. It’s okay. I’ll just pass this year. Promise. I know how much you girls wanted all of us three dressing up! But please understand that I’ve been busy preparing all of this.”

The two girls pouted but sigh in defeat when you bring up your reason.

Rebecca shrugged a bit. “Fine. But NEXT year, if you’re busy then let us know. We can help you pick your outfit!”

Sally nodded in agreement. “Yes! Promise us that!”

You just giggled but agreed with the girls. “Promise!”

While the three of you continued cooking and baking, you heard a knock from the entrance in the front door.

“Special delivery!” A heavy Scottish accent called out through the door.

You walked over to open it and saw it was a young man. He seems to look like in his late 20s and has a mohawk on his head. Wait, a mohawk?

“Good day to ye, lass! Here to drop off these boxes of flour, butter, some seasoning and some fruits? Are you the one who orderit?” He asked with a genuine smile as you smiled back at him.

You nodded in response before stepping aside. “Yes! You can go ahead, bring it in and head to the back. The kitchen is right in there.”

He nodded before walking in. And then you saw someone else followed behind him with another box in hand. Another young man who has a cap on his head with a UK flag on it. He also looks like in his late 20s. The man gave his charming smile to you as he nodded in greetings.

“Ma’am.”

You smiled and nodded back before watching him following the man who was in front.

And then to your surprise, you saw another man. A man who is taller than the first two that came in. A brown short hair, with brown eyes and is also wearing a black mask covering his mouth and nose. He looked down on you, seeing you with quite a surprising look.

“Madame.” His deep British accent had softly gone through your ears. As you weren’t expecting to hear that kind of tone.

You slowly nodded at him and watched him pass by as he followed the other two into the kitchen. You quickly follow as well before peeking inside to see your two best friends are talking with the two boys. It seems like that man with a mohawk was flirting with Sally while the man in the cap was just talking with Rebecca.

You just smiled a bit to see them getting along so quickly. So you stepped inside as you saw the tall man putting the boxes down on the floor. You were staring at him for a bit as you took a good look at him.

He stood up and looked at his buddies as he started to tell them to stop flirting.

You smiled a bit to see the two boys were just being embarrassed of how that dark brown hair man was calling them off. Before you noticed him looking in your way.

“Sorry ‘bout those two. They can be VERY addicted to seeing pretty ladies. Mostly my very dumb friend named Johnny over there.” He said as he pointed at the guy with a mohawk behind him.

You giggled to hear the mohawk man calling out to him.

“OI! I am NOT dumb!”

“You are. With your LAME pick up line.”

“Like you can do any better, Si?”

“I can do 10 times BETTER than your corny ass line.”

You couldn’t help but giggle so much and even your two friends also started giggling and laughing with you. While the man with the cap just sighs and shakes his head before walking over to stop the two.

“Hey hey hey! Not in front of the ladies. That’s a very bad first impression AND bad luck, you know?” He turned to face you and your friends as he started to rub behind his head. “Apologies ladies, we’ll be heading out now.”

Rebecca looked saddened all of a sudden when he said that. “Aaaaw…already?”

He smiled a bit at her and nodded. “Yeah. We still got more deliveries to take care of.”

The two girls looked sad to hear that they’re going to leave. Until that man named Johnny had an idea.

“Hey! I know that we just met. But the boys and I are free tonight. Do you want to join us?”

You glanced to see the girls were looking excited as you smiled a bit. So you looked at him and shook your head. “Sorry. I’m a bit busy tonight since I’ll be serving the food.” Then you started to walk towards your girlfriends as you placed both of your arms around their shoulders each. “Buuuuuuuut my friends are available tonight. Right girls?”

The two ladies looked at you in shock as you had lost your MIND.

“Uuuh…WHAT are you doing?” Sally whispers to you.

“Yeah, don’t you need our help? There will be LOTS of people coming to your booth.” Rebecca also whispered to you as she agreed with her friend.

Which she is not wrong. Yes, there will be BUNCH of people coming over for food but you handle this before. You're sure that you’re okay with this and it is fine for your two friends to have some fun!

So you started to whisper to them back. “Don’t worry! I got this! You two can go ahead and CHARM your way with these boys while I’ll handle the booth.” You gave them a reassuring smile and a wink. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

The two girls looked at each other again but with more worried looks on their faces. As they could see your warm smile, telling them that it’s alright, they finally gave in and turned to look at the boys.

“Yeah! We’re available!” Sally said as she smiled at Johnny.

The mohawk man smiled at her with glee. “Awesome! We’ll see you tonight at…?”

You raised your hand a bit. “Our booth will be next to the Ferris Wheel! You’ll meet them there!”

The man with the cap nodded and smiled at them. “Alright then, we’ll be there and…are you sure you don’t want to come?” He asked you as you can see that he’s feeling a bit bad.

You nodded as you gave him a thumbs up. “Sure I’m sure! Someone HAS to take care of the food booth!”

He smiled a bit as he nodded and tipped his cap. “Alright then and also, I apologize for not introducing ourselves. I’m Kyle. Kyle Garrick. But most of them call me Gaz.” Then he put his arm around his friend’s shoulders before patting his chest. “This is John MacTavish.”

He nodded at you and the girls. “You can call me, Soap.”

Sally snickered when she heard that name. “Soap? Why do they call you that?”

“Aye, cause I cleaned up nicely.” He said with a wink.

“Not with your room you’re not.” The tall man with the mask had said while rolling his eyes.

“OI! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS CRITICIZE ME WHENEVER I TRY TO TALK TO A LASS?!?”

“Just trying to save her from going out with a dumb Scots like you.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING DUMB?!?”

Everyone started to laugh before settling down as the girls introduced themselves to them before exchanging phone numbers with the two boys. But your eyes had caught onto the tall man who was just looking at the four.

You slowly crossed your arms while rocking back and forth a little on your feet. Before looking at him. “So um…what’s YOUR name?”

He glanced down at you. Looking at you for a good minute before he looked back at his friends and yours. “Simon. Simon Riley.”

“Are you also dressing up for tonight?”

He shook his head. “Not into these Halloween things. Just want to walk around the festival. So I don’t think I’ll be going with those guys. Might make me a 5th wheel with them.” You giggled at that last response. “Ah. I see. Well, if you want. You can hang out with me at the food booth if you’re not going with them. Buuuuut I might be busy.”

He shrugged a bit as he looked at you with his brown eyes. “I don’t mind.”

You couldn’t help but find his eyes a bit intimidating but yet quite kind at the same time.

So they all agreed that they’ll meet at the food booth.

—-----------------------------------------------

Tonight is the night of Halloween. And every child in town is running around, taking a look at these fun events. Along with their friends and families.

While you and the girls on the other hand were REALLY busy selling those goodies that you guys have made. Everyone really enjoys your cooking and baking goods. Not a single person has been missed with their orders.

After a few while, the crowds had started to die down a bit. Which you three had FINALLY taken a break for a while.

“Damn…It almost feels like you have put a magic charm on these foods! I mean, did you SEE how many people just came?” Rebecca, who is dressed as a Witch, said with an exhaustion tone in her voice as she leaned back against the counter.

“I KNOW! Fuck man…what is your secret recipe though?” Sally, who is dressed as a Vampire, asked as she looked at you. “The whole TOWN can’t stop buying these!”

You smiled tiredly as you giggled lightly from your friend's compliment. “Well, I do want the people to ENJOY it. And it’s no secret at all! Just a bit of love and viola!”

The two girls just look at each other with an unamused look and look back at you while crossing their arms.

“Bullshits.” They said in unison before laughing with you.

Then you noticed the three boys that you’ve met earlier this morning had walked over.

“Good evening ladies. Don’t you look extravagant.” Kyle, who is dressed up as a wizard, said with a smile to see the three of you. Before he looked over to Rebecca seeing that she’s a Witch. “Ah. I see that you’re ALSO a magical person here.”

Rebecca just giggled. “Indeed I am, my pretty! But we ALL know that a Witch has the powerful potential of cursing anyone in her path!” Saying in her witch voice as she cackled with laughter.

The two just laughed at this.

Soap, who dressed up as a werewolf, then just smirked to see Sally in her Vampire costume. “Awooo~ A vampire is ya?~ Micht wanna be careful with me, lass. Ye know how vampire an werewolf are~”

Sally smirked back at this Scottish werewolf man before leaning in as she poke his chest. “Oh I know~ And I’ll take the risk~”

You rolled your eyes as you saw the two flirting before seeing Simon looking at you. You smiled at him before waving at him softly seeing him just wearing his black hoodie and blue jeans with shoes on.

He waved back a bit before seeing Gaz was nudging his arm. He just rolled his eyes seeing his smirk before walking up to you. He took a look around your booth before leaning on the counter. “Not too shabby. How’s the business going?”

You just smiled while still prepping the food and desserts into the display case. “It went VERY well. And I see you’re not wearing anything?”

“Like I said, not into these Halloween things.”

Before you two continued to talk, you felt a hand on your shoulder as you saw it was Rebecca.

“Okay! We’re gonna go! Now, are you SURE you can handle this? We can still stay.”

You nodded at her before touching her hand. “I’ll be okay. Besides, I have my extra helper over here!” You pointed at Simon.

Your friend saw him nodding at her as she smiled a bit before calling out to him. “Try to help her out will ya?”

Simon just nodded as a response and gave a thumbs up.

Soon the four already walked away. Leaving only you and Simon alone. The two of you don't talk much except just making and selling your food. 

Simon was busy mixing the batter before taking a glance at you. You were just giving out some candies to the trick-or-treaters and handing them a bag of goodies. Seeing your sweet smile had really caught his eyes for some reason.

Why does he feel that towards you? You two just met and he also doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable either. He looked back at what he was doing before you finished giving the kids their treats.

You had started to bring out another tray of desserts before looking at Simon. “Hey, you wanna taste this?”

The tall man looked at your direction, seeing you showing the cupcake in your hand. He stopped what he was doing and started to walk over to you. You watched him take it as he pulled his mask down a bit before he took a bite. You were curious about why he was wearing that mask but judging by how quiet he was. You know that he doesn’t want to talk about it which you understand.

“So? How was it?” You asked him with a warm smile feeling excited of how he’ll respond to your baking expertise. But you saw him paused for a moment and he just withdrew the cupcake away from his lips as he stared at it for a bit. “Simon?”

He kept staring at the cupcake for a while as if something had made him feel...familiarize with this dessert. Soon he snapped out when you gently touched his arm. You gave him a worried look as he cleared his throat and pulled his mask back up. “Sorry, your cupcake is delicious. I bet the REST of your desserts are wonderful as well.”

You slowly nodded as you appreciated his words but you still felt a bit concerned for him. “Thank you…but are you alright, Simon?”

The British man was silenced as he kept staring at the cupcake before putting it down. “I’m alright. Just…remembered something.”

“Oh? What is it that you remembered?”

Simon was just looking at you with a loud silence between the both of you. The sound of people chattering and the children’s laughter had clouded out of your hearings. You know something that he wanted to share but is too afraid to even speak. So you just slowly walked over and stood in front of this man.

“Simon?”

“......I don’t want to bore you. And also, it’s just a burden that I have to carry.”

“Do you…wish to talk about it?”

“...No.”

You just gave him a small reassuring smile before taking his cupcake and gave it to him. “Then we don’t have to talk about it. Since I know we just met but I am here to listen.”

Simon had seen you handing his cupcake as he accepted and just stared at it. He sighed before starting to speak. “Your cooking…reminded me of someone that I know so close.”

You just nodded to let him continue.

“She had always made me great treats and it was…delicious.” He said softly before pulling his mask down again and took another bite from the cupcake. He proceeds on talking with you. “That’s all I could tell you. The rest…it’s for me to bear.”

You understood what he was saying and that last sentence had made you feel even MORE sympathy for him. “Of course, I understand. But…it will be better for you to let something out of your chest.” Then you place your hand on his back as you could see him looking at you with his brown eyes.

Damn. You can’t even help but to feel mesmerized by his brown eyes. You cleared your throat as you glanced away. “IF you’re ready to talk about it I mean.”

The two of you were just standing there in silence before you saw Simon was just staring at the cupcake. You then had an idea as you grabbed another cupcake for yourself.

“Hey, I’ll make you a deal. It’s not that kind of deal of you TALKING your problems to me.”

You saw that you caught his attention when he looked at you again.

“And that is what?”

“I can make you any kind of treats or food that someone of yours can make. IF you helped me to make some great buffet for thanksgiving next month.”

Simon just blinked at you when he listened to your offer. He started to chuckle deeply. “Oh love, I don’t know if your cooking skills are HALF as good as someone that I know of.”

You huffed as you crossed your arms. You’re going to make him EAT those words. “I can! And I will! Would you accept these deals?” You started to extend your hands towards him to shake on.

He looked at your hand and then looked at your eyes. He could see that you’re determined to make this for him. He sighed and reached his hand out and shook on yours. “Deal.”

You smiled as you nodded at him. “Alright then! Shall we begin discussing the food that you require?”

THE END

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@pricescigar @justasmolbard @alypink @dirtfullofwork

@kaitaiga @deeptrashwitch @sweet-samnang @welldonekhushi

[aricarianis]

Mask and Mirror | AO3 Simon "Ghost" Riley / Female Character Rape/Non-con, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Predator/Prey, Stalking, Violence, Aggression, Choking.

THIS IS A HORROR STORY. Chapter 1: The Stranger In The Shadows Estimated reading time: 19 minutes.

There are only two rules on Halloween: have fun, and watch out for the freaks.

When an unassuming girl tries to lose the masked stranger stalking her on Halloween night, a spine-chilling game of cat and mouse begins. Each encounter grows more dangerous and intimate, blurring the lines between predator and prey. As tension and terror build, it’s only a matter of time before one of them is forced to surrender—if they make it out at all.

The last autumn breeze brushed past a face that dared to be uncovered on All Hallow’s Eve.

It was cold enough to signal the onset of the darkest season, but not quite enough to force girls into warm clothing. Halloween was the one night where inhibitions faded and impulses ruled. For her, it was also the last chance to have some fun—pull a trick, take home a treat.

Confined in the soft cage of her mermaid costume, she made her best effort to walk quickly, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Partygoers brushed past in waves of theatrical ensembles. In the flashing lights and dark street corners, it was too easy to lose sight of someone. Which pair of wings or which set of bunny ears belongs to whom is anyone’s guess.

She, on the other hand, was hard to lose sight of. Being a mermaid for Halloween was hardly a groundbreaking idea, but the looks of disgust directed at her spoke for themselves. Most mermaids weren’t pallid, perpetually damp and slimy. Their costumes weren’t covered in a mucuous dark liquid that spread to their skin like a filthy sea rash. Their hair wasn’t tangled like seaweed, with nails as sharp as broken shells.

If philosophers who believe humans are inherently bad are correct, and goodness is just a layer people wear each day, then stripping that layer away should keep others at bay. No one should want to come close to something that looks deliberately sickly and unnerving.

No one but the man that kept trailing her, ignoring the warning signs.

Some might argue that being chased by a freak is part of the Halloween experience. After all, it’s the night when masks allow people to wear their ugliness openly, when the veil between real and imaginary gets a little too thin. Good people feel free to be a little bad, and bad people feel free to make the night of horrors live up to its name.

There’s a strange type of comfort about being at a Halloween parade, with celebrations and bonfires that have existed long before our time. The fake blood, the rusty houses, the dirty streets; air heavy with possibility. Any shoulder bumped against could open a door to the unknown. The music—too loud to let screams through. The people—too drunk to perceive danger before it’s too late. Anyone running past could be having fun or could be in genuine danger. Nothing seems safe, and that liminal space of perception, that limbo between bliss and horror that permeates every corner of Halloween night, is what keeps us coming back to celebrate death—as a reminder we’re alive.

Experiencing that limbo is Halloween’s ultimate allure. But sometimes the fantasy breaks, the veil lifts, and you realize that the danger isn’t imaginary.

The burn she felt in her legs as she tried to lose him in the crowd was real enough.

He stayed close despite the ever growing mob.

She grabbed her phone to call her friends once again. It seemed futile with all the noise, yet she tried. After a few minutes, a familiar voice cut through the buzz and made its way to her.

“Mae!” Her friend’s wings bounced as she waved enthusiastically.

Mae pushed through the crowd to get to her newfound safe haven.

“I told you not to call me that in public.”

“It’s short for mermaid—”

“No, it isn’t.”

“And… it’s just for tonight. It’s not safe to give our real names to strangers, you know that. Tonight, you’re Mae and I’m… Fae.”

Mae gave a light chuckle and nodded in agreement.

“Fake names aren’t much of a safety guarantee, I tell you that,” she said while looking around, but there was no sign of the man. She leaned in, close enough for her words to be just between them.

“I saw him.”

Fae turned to look at Mae, the gleam in her eyes matching the glitter on her lids. “Are you sure? There are a lot of masked people here.”

“I’d recognize that skull mask anywhere.”

A loud smash rang out, and the sharp echo of broken glass traveled the air alongside slurred insults—a brewing brawl. Suddenly, bodies pushed against one another like schooling fish. Mae grabbed onto Fae’s wrist, and as Fae’s eyes trailed up, Mae knew whose hand lay on her stomach. She felt the warmth of a body pressing against her, solid and unyielding; his form swallowing hers completely.

For a second, time stopped. She lifted her head, glancing over her shoulder to meet his eyes—dark as the night sky behind him. Her jaw clenched, anger bubbling up at her own vulnerability. She could’ve sworn she saw a movement, a slight raise of his cheeks behind the mask. Time resumed. A change of position, an unknown push, Fae’s other arm finding hers. Gone.

A man his size shouldn’t be able to vanish so easily.

“We need to get the others! Where’s your phone?  Mine's in Jennifer’s purse.” Fae raised her voice as the agitated horde pushed them to the sidewalk.

“Jennifer doesn’t get a fake name?” The confusion in Mae’s tone turned to heaviness as she searched her purse.

“My creativity only goes so far,” Fae replied. “Come on, give it to me.”

“It’s not here.”

“What do you mean? You just had it.”

“Yeah, I did, but I-I can’t find it. I swear, it was right here, it must’ve…” Mae trailed off, scanning the ground, hoping her phone would somehow be there, though deep down, she already knew it wouldn’t.

Their eyes met. The knowing exchange spoke before they could.

“The girls were at the bar at the end of the street when I left to look for you,” Fae said first, nodding toward the direction. “We can start there.”

“We have to get my phone back.”

“It could be just some creep trying to get your attention—”

“Now he has it.” Mae’s anger simmered back up.

“Or... it could be someone trying to hurt you,” Fae said softly, as if assessing her friend’s next step. “You've never had to deal with one like him before.”

“Well… I’ve always loved first times.”

Mae grabbed Fae’s wrist and led the way, her grip tightening as they squeezed through the last of the crowd toward the bar. The quick steps confined in her costume made her legs burn again—a sensation she now knew all too well, and only because of him.

Costumed folks packed the bar, as the air hung thick with booze and bad decisions. In their corner, Mae stared blankly at the far wall, hardly listening as Fae recounted the story. Something in Fae’s tone—how she spun it like a fairytale rather than the gruesome folk legend it truly was—kept Mae’s anger simmering beneath the surface.

“AGAIN?” Tammie’s disbelief pulled Mae back into the moment. Jennifer signaled for her to keep it down, holding the phone to her ear. Tammie leaned in, repeating more quietly, “Again? How many times now, three?”

“Five,” Mae snapped, her voice tight with frustration. “Son of a bitch has followed me five times in three weeks.”

“Not used to a little attention, huh?” Jennifer smirked, clearly savoring the drama. “I told you to do something about it on the third time.”

Mae rolled her eyes. “I didn’t think it’d go this far, Jen. The guy just seemed like a random creep, not a—”

“Stalker?” Tammie finished, crossing her arms. Her usual easygoing demeanor shifted to one of concern.

Silence settled around them, despite the rowdy bar.

“Nothing?” Tammie asked Jennifer, signaling toward the phone.

Jennifer shook her head, the phone still glued to her ear.

“It’s not too late to let it go, babe,” Fae’s soft tone came back as she caressed Mae’s arm. “You’re the last person to go into things without a plan.”

Mae clenched her jaw. “You know damn well he can’t keep that phone—“

“Hello?” Jennifer blurted, eyes wide. “Can you hear me?”

The girls all turned to her, holding their breaths expectantly. Jennifer furrowed her brows as she turned to look at Mae, sharing a glance of mutual confusion before passing the phone to her.

“Hello?” Mae’s voice grew tense, eyes narrowing. “Yes, yes I understand—”

The girls scanned Mae’s face for some hint of explanation, but got nothing. They couldn’t find reassurance in each others’ worried expressions either.

“Why are you…” Her expression shifted from disbelief to irritation. “I understand… Simon.”

Mae handed the phone back, feeling discomfort permeate her body, and watching the girls’ faces contort with anger as they reacted to what she’d just heard.

The Haunted House. Fifteen minutes. Alone.

Despite their protests, the girls reluctantly agreed to let Mae go. It was a public space, after all, and he’d never tried anything dangerous while in a crowd. Maybe it’d be a simple exchange, a creepy way to ask for her number. But what were the odds?

Something weird happens once, it’s an accident. Twice, a coincidence. Three times, a pattern. By the fifth time, it’s hard not to think of it as a threat.

Simon didn’t mind to be seen as a threat; he’d learned early that his quiet intensity threw people off. The way he scanned the most unassuming places, how his every step was measured, balanced; movements so controlled they felt artistic—a dancer gliding across a shadowed ballroom.

Big guys like him were supposed to soften the edges, to show their faces, smile, make themselves smaller. But that wasn’t his training. That wasn’t who he was. Each time he chose not to wear the layers people expected, it was as if they could smell the blood on him, no matter how long it had been washed off. He’d made a living off of realizing his threats, and he was one of the best.

Of course, his nature became a hindrance when he craved human contact, which is why dating was off the table. He fulfilled his desires on other bodies, but never looked for love in them. Love is the most volatile element in any situation, and to be as good as him, you have to give up anything uncertain. In his line of work, predictability is the key between life and death.

He spent most of his free time roaming around the towns his team was stationed at, not only scanning places but people. How they moved, how they talked. The joyful screams of kids when their fathers picked them up. The wrinkles deepening on old ladies’ faces as their husbands repeated the same old stories. How deep a lass bit into the caramel apple she shared with her friend. The way her lips moved and gleamed. How the wind carried the earthy aroma of the forest, the sweet scent of the treat, and her. How she strangely caught his gaze and stared back, longer than anyone would, waving slowly as her sharp nails cut through the air.

There was something off about her, something under the surface. Like touching a wall warmed by the day's sun, even though night has fallen. Or standing outside a seemingly calm room, only to hear faint screaming as a prisoner denies information. Things you’d only catch if you’re watching closely. Attention you only pay to what you’re familiar with.

He trailed her for the first time after she went back for a second caramel apple. The second time was at the local mini-market, her cart stocked with an expensive brand of wine. The third time, he saw her loading luggage into the boot of her car at two in the morning. The fourth was at a restaurant, where she laughed with a group of men, and he sent a bottle of that same wine to her table. The fifth time, he stepped in between her and a street brawl, adrenaline rushing through his veins like a long-lost pulse. His grip on her wasn’t protective; it was a taste of control.

He stared at her phone, patiently counting down the fifteen minutes. Strange how her entire world was just a numerical combination away. Each time the screen lit up with the names of other men, something in him twisted tight. None of them knew her like he did. Did they see how the light made her caramel-stained lips glisten? Taste the remnants of expensive wine lingering on her tongue? Feel the sting of her sharp nails as they left marks that only he could reciprocate?

On that first night, he stared into the void, and the void didn’t flinch—it stared harder and waved back. Unbroken. Defiant. He can’t afford to crave affection, so he made it his mission to watch her surrender. The quiet command in her eyes fueled the mad man within, and he’d treat her like any opponent: study her, approach her, break her.

The most quiet houses often turn out to be the scariest. They look mundane, traditional—the kind of place where a family would lead a regular life. Yet, that façade can be enough to hide the horror inside. Domestic privacy becomes the foundation for a certain brand evil, one that allows fear to fester like mold. Modest walls turn into breeding grounds for monstrosity. Haunted houses, then, are symbols of honesty, of all the decay and abandonment humans are capable of creating.

There’s not a more honest month than October. As Mae entered the local honesty spot, cobwebs danced to the sounds of wood groaning against wind. Plastic spiders and makeshift ghosts welcomed passersby as the flickering jack-o’-lanterns showed them the way. The man inside might as well be another haunted attraction.

The draped black cloth on the walls served as a backdrop for the fake fog swirling at ankle height, forcing Mae to watch her every step. She carefully navigated each room, searching for the skull mask she now knew too well, and the man behind it. The loud whirrs of animatronic witches and the sudden clatter of popping skeletons set her nerves on edge, as if warning her about the last room in the upstairs hallway.

The sign on the door made it clear—that place wasn’t part of the attraction. It was a makeshift storage room for personal belongings, a reminder that the house wasn’t haunted for eleven months of the year. As she peeked inside, her gaze swept across the room until she made out his form. He was staring at a portrait cramped on top of a dresser, next to other family items. A man, a woman, two happy girls and a dog. Normal, certain—an unusual type of predictability for him. He seemed at ease, peaceful. For a moment, his imposing frame and odd behavior seemed almost misunderstood. A view shaped by a pessimism she knew too well.

That feeling lasted until he looked over his shoulder and met her eyes. The way the light seemed to retreat from his gaze as it bore into her soul meant, this time, she was right to assume the worst.

“Give it back.” She stood on the doorway, palm open in demand.

He remained in place as if he were part of the furniture.

“Look,” her sharp gaze signaling an anger that never went away “I don’t know who you are or what you want. If you’re just some weirdo freak who doesn’t know how to ask a girl out, fine.”

She gave him a split second to react, to show that she had read him right. He was stone.

“But if you’re here because you think you can intimidate me—”

His arm shot out, slamming the door behind her. Right hand digging into her jaw; the left tangled in her hair. Her skull met the door with a sharp crack, and the room spun in the echo of her interrupted words. Yet the weight of his body wasn’t enough to crush her defiance.

“—means you haven’t learned anything from all the stalking.” Her voice barely cut through the ringing in her ears. Pain seared through her head, but she clenched her jaw, forcing herself to hold his gaze.

His hot breath cut through the cold air in shallow bursts—not from exertion, but from something raw and primal: rage fused with obsession and desire. He tightened the grip on her hair as his right hand slid to her throat, squeezing just enough to make it clear she was not in charge. Her eyes widened, a short gasp escaping her lips, and he took her parted mouth as an invitation to close in, their lips brushing against the rough texture of the mask.

“I learned that this,” he spoke into her mouth, his grip tightening around her throat, “is what you needed. You needed someone to control your disobedience.”

Mae furrowed her eyebrows in complete confusion. The weight of Simon’s words twisted something in her stomach, making each exhale heavier than the inhale that preceded it. Nausea creeped in and she felt a wave of tingles on her nose—a sign that his twisted reasoning was taking root.

As the first tears welled in her eyes, he let out an amused chuckle and released her throat. The sudden rush of air into her lungs stung, and she gasped sharply, a sound that turned into an unsteady wail as she noticed his gaze dropping lower. A chill surged through her before she even registered his free, rock hard member pressing against her stomach. It was as if the room itself contracted around her, suffocating with its silence. The veil had lifted—this horror was real.

Her body jerked reflexively, muscles going taut as a wire. Simon’s free hand moved down her skirt, fingers searching for her entrance with a methodical, invasive precision that made her skin crawl. Jackpot. He stroked over her folds, rubbing rough circles on her clit to get her body to react as it would if she were a willing player in this scenario. Her mind raced in an attempt to pinpoint what she could have done to deserve this. But she knew better. This wasn’t her fault, even if the terror whispered otherwise. This was what happened when you brushed too close to people like Simon—quiet beasts that reeked of blood.

“S-Stop, please, Simon, I—“

“Are so wet f’me,” a smug tone on his voice. “Gonna say you don’t want this, luv? Cunt dripping all over my hand and you’re gonna lie?”

Even overwhelmed, Mae’s mind searched for options. She was the last person to go into things without a plan. The first step was to slow down her breath—hard to do when Simon was already using her wetness to bully his thick digits into her; each stroke drawing a hum of approval from him. He rested his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent as if to answer one of the many questions he had about her. His hot breath, the weight of his body, his rough movements—all filled her senses. Yet she had to find ways to ground herself in the bleak present, to craft the perfect opportunity for an escape.

Mae shifted slightly, feeling the solid surface of the door pressing into her back. The faint steps of the last visitors leaving the house echoed from somewhere distant, signaling that they were alone. She closed her eyes briefly, recalling the layout of the house from her earlier tour. If she timed it right, there was still a chance.

Drawing a breath, she softened her expression, letting her hands move to Simon’s hips. His eyes lit up with a twisted satisfaction as she began to trace her fingers around his cock. “See?” he murmured, his voice low and triumphant. “Just needed some obedience fucked into you.”

But the look in her eyes was anything but submissive. In a sudden, decisive move, Mae clamped her teeth down on the exposed skin of his neck while her nails—sharp as broken shells—raked into his balls. Simon's eyes widened in shock, his grip faltering just enough for her to push her full weight against him. She managed to break the distance between them, the momentum sending him stumbling backward.

The reprieve was brief. He swung back with a brutal slap that cracked like thunder against her face, the force disorienting her and leaving a burning trail of pain that echoed through her skull. She staggered, vision blurring and darkness creeping at the edges, but she didn't let the agony stop her. Mae bolted for the hallway, every muscle straining as she tore through the space and spotted the back door.

Simon’s roar followed, along with the heavy thud of his boots closing in as he wiped the blood dripping from the bite. But she was already out, sprinting toward the woods, the cool night air biting at her skin while an all too familiar burn crept back up her legs.

Trees blurred past in quick flashes, yet Simon’s footsteps were nearly soundless. His breath was steady, pulse in perfect control. The forest was his ballroom, and he moved like a seasoned dancer, leaving no trail behind him despite the thrill of the hunt. Twigs snapped nearby, a deep rustle to his left, a faint crunch to his right. Probably a deer, maybe a bear. To an untrained ear, the woods were brown noise; to him, an orchestra conducting his every step.

The darkness had no effect on him; his trained instincts led the way with ease. He paused, sensing her movements through the undergrowth—chaotic, erratic. Naive girls who think they can escape if they draw a little blood. He knew exactly where she was headed; her scent lingered in his system. He tilted his head to the left, eyes tracking to the right. A footfall right ahead. Jackpot.

Her messy disposition blended seamlessly with the chaos of the woodland. Breathless, disheveled, defeated—a creature in unfamiliar territory. Fish out of water.

She stood a few feet away, slightly hunched in surrender, a stark contrast to her usual proud self. Too easy. A faint prick of unease nudged at the back of Simon’s mind; after all, she had drawn blood the last time he got too close. Still, he pushed forward. He couldn’t have misjudged a simple chase. He was too skilled, too well-trained. One of the best.

He moved patiently over the foliage, cautious as if not to startle a wild animal. She remained still, vulnerable, accepting whatever fate Simon had prepared for her. One step, not too far. Another, closing in. Third step. Loud woosh. Acute pain. A bear trap. Suddenly, a fierce electric sting shot through his limbs, his own body turning against him. A taser. Muscles locked, forcing him into uncontrollable spasms. His back scraped against the rough ground as disorientation set in, making him oblivious to the shadows slipping into his blind spot.

Before he could react, his arms were forced back, wrists bound tightly together. The harsh scratch against his skin warned him of how little time he had before he was fully restrained. He struggled against the bear trap clamping his leg—a painful inconvenience—while the bindings around his wrists constricted further, vertical loops added to prevent any twisting escape. Smart.

Without wasting a moment, they secured his wrists to his waist and loosely bound his elbows, preventing any upward movement even if he managed to wriggle. With his limited upper body strength, finding leverage seemed impossible. The bear trap made it easier for them to restrain his legs, rope wrapping tightly around his lower thighs and knees. To finish the job, they pushed him against a tree, encircling his torso with the final length of rope, fully immobilizing him. As they stood at his feet, admiring their handiwork, a sinking realization settled in—he recognized the three familiar faces. Loyal friends she has.

“Should we get it out?” Jennifer asked, panting lightly as she examined the extent of his leg injury, her expression focused.

“I’m not done with him yet,” Mae retorted, monotone as she bore into his eyes.

“What are you gonna do, babe?” Fae interjected, concern etched across her face, but it wasn’t enough to sway Mae’s resolve.

“Nothing he hasn’t done first.”

Simon watched as the women faded into the forest, leaving him at Mae’s mercy. His uneven breath and racing pulse revealed his disbelief, body heating with the anger of being caught in this situation.

“Good show, lass. Am I bear snack now?” Simon scoffed, his need to regain the upper hand surfacing, even if it was futile.

“Was that your plan for me?”

“Yeah… and I was the bear.”

Mae nudged the trap with her foot, drawing a low grunt from Simon. “You were.”

“You’re a proper nutter, you know that?” His breaths grew shallow and rapid, betraying his frustration.

Mae bent at the waist, lowering herself until her face was just inches away from his. Her gaze steady and unyielding. The void staring back. "Birds of a feather, aren’t we?"

With a swift motion, she tore his mask off and stuffed it into his mouth. Shallow and deep scars littered his face, moonlight glinting over each mark. His nose was crooked, broken one too many times. His eyes—dark, bottomless—widened as he watched her slowly remove her costume, piece by piece. Confusion and dread seeped into him as he struggled to anticipate her next move, to guess what trick she’d pull.

The light traced her form, hugging the curves and lines of her body. Soft yet firm, peaks and valleys of pure poetry that relaxed him at the sight—first time in too long.

She leaned down, straddling his lap, her hands slipping between them as they stared into each other’s eyes. Simon furrowed his brows as he felt a pull on his hips. He dropped his gaze to see his pants halfway down his thighs, his member firmly in her hand. She began to stroke it, slowly, feeling the pull of his skin under her touch. “Is this what you wanted?”

Simon grunted, unintelligible, as the mask suffocated his words, his forehead creased in confusion. His body reacted as if it had disconnected from his mind, unaware that this was not how it was supposed to happen.

“I thought you wanted to control me,” Mae sneered as she picked up speed. “You can’t even control yourself.”

Simon took a deep breath as he felt his cock swell under the friction. He struggled to regain composure, to remind himself who was in charge. This was a game—a game he could easily win if he could keep his impulses in check. Keeping his cool under life-threatening situations was part of his job; this should be no different. He was too skilled, too well-trained. One of the bes—

“Open your eyes,” Mae commanded, and Simon obliged, not even realizing when he had closed them. With practiced ease, she pooled saliva at the back of her throat, letting it gather at the tip of her tongue before she opened her mouth—thick strand glistening in the light before landing on the tip of his cock.

Simon could only respond with deep, muffled groans, his face contorted in rage. This was not how it was supposed to go. Veins bulged along his member, which at this point was fully engaged. Precum leaked as he shook his head in frustration, ashamed at how his body betrayed him, welcoming the assault even as his mind rebelled.

Mae raised herself slightly, adjusting his angry red tip right at her entrance, still wet from the earlier invasion. With a slow, methodical movement, she crouched down, easing his thickness into her cunt—tight and fluttering at the incursion. It was massive, almost impossible, the type of weapon used to bring more harm than peace. She shuddered at the thought of how things might have played out were she still under Simon’s reign, yet she remained impassive. “Control yourself.”

Simon’s brows furrowed in plea as he struggled against the ropes—desperate, confused, guilty. He was overwhelmed at the detachment, at how all the physical sensations were there but his mind couldn’t enjoy it. He just wanted out.

Mae picked up the pace as she squatted on his lap, walls spasming at the forced entrance. She could feel him in her bones, splitting her open, invading even when he was out of control. It wasn’t as comfortable as it could be, but it was worth it for his look of terror alone.

He felt dizzy as she fucked him so hard his back scorched against the tree. His pulse pounded in his ears, her warmth and slick mirroring the heat pooling in places he wished it wouldn’t. Simon squirmed, his eyes pleading with Mae to stop as he teetered on the edge of orgasm.

“Control your fucking self!” Mae shouted, her voice brimming with rage. “This is your fault. This is what you made me do!”

Her hands clamped around his throat, surgical, cutting off just enough airflow to push him toward unconsciousness. To Simon, her intentions seemed far more sinister. He let out a hoarse scream, overwhelmed by a surge of anxiety, shame, and a fear he hadn’t felt in years. Her hips plunged, the familiar burn creeping up on her legs as her cunt choked him—violent thrusts sprinting towards the end, demanding. Shockwave. He twitched and grunted as the climax spread across his body, the impact reverberating through them both. His cum leaked from her pussy as the realization dawned—he had severely underestimated his opponent.

As Mae’s movements slowed, her grip around his throat tightened. She watched as his eyes grew heavy, each blink longer than the last, while a disorienting fog clouded his mind.

“Do you know why people wear masks on Halloween?” Mae asked, her voice as calm as rocks in a seastorm.

Simon squinted in confusion, his body going slack beneath her hold. A tremor rippled through his limbs, marking the last moments of resistance before surrender.

“They believed the line between the world of the living and the dead blurred, and that spirits could walk the earth. They started wearing masks because they thought they could protect themselves from evil by blending in,” she continued, her tone hypnotic. “But, you see, we don’t know what evil looks like.”

His eyes fluttered, unfocused, a final shudder running through him as he hovered at the edge of darkness. The moment hung suspended, enough for Mae’s voice to cut through one last time before he slipped entirely into the void.

“Would you be scared of the boogeyman if he looked like me?”

[aleneabean]

how to get yourself out of a rut

because let's face it, we all get into those downswings that just feel blegh (and we can get out of them <3).

start with things you know you enjoy. think of every little hobby you might've fallen in love with before - reading, painting, dancing, running, an instrument, singing, you name it. doing the small things to help boost your mood and make you feel more alive will give you more energy.

make a to-do list. yes you've probably heard this a million times before, but to-do lists can help your workload seem smaller if you itemize it.

do things!! it sounds a lot like an "easier said than done" idea, but once you start, it's very difficult to stop, especially if many of the things you have to do relate to each other (i.e., laundry and cleaning the bathroom - both count as cleaning).

don't always do it on your own. if you know you have a chore or assignment that someone else has to do, work on it together! i struggle so much with laundry (yes it's a problem and embarrassing but if i don't acknowledge it, it won't change!), and washing my clothes at the same time as the people I live with has made the chore seem less boring because i get to do it with friends.

take good care of yourself. eat good food, get fresh air and exercise (hot girl walks count for both), and hydrate. water, tea, soup, whatever gets your water intake in. also make sure to cleanse and hydrate your skin too, so you glow from both inside and out.

everything in moderation and in the cool way, i promise. trade some of the more draining habits for ones that rejuvenate you! going out, bed marinating (not rotting), doomscrolling, and many other taxing habits all put stress on you. yes everyone says that detoxing is good, and yes it is hard, but it is so worth it in the long run.

dress to impress!! taking care of yourself includes wearing clothes that make you feel confident in and happy with yourself. you also get an excuse to look super cute all the time, which is a massive bonus that both boosts your mood constantly and serves as outfitspo for others. that's a win-win.

----------♡----------

and most importantly, go at your own pace. recovery from anything, even just a lack of productivity or a sense of being overwhelmed, is not a linear process, and whatever you are capable of is enough each day <3

[variousqueerthings]

a few things i appreciated about the much ado about nothing with dt and ct:

very much enjoyed that they both exhibit loser-behaviour. that is, there can be a risk in this play of making beatrice too right and benedick just someone who's gotta level up to deserve her, but this one really allowed both of them to be brilliant as well as stupid, which is fun because it makes both of them more complex and equal to one another + I think it's fun for an actress to be a little silly sometimes and this role really allows for it, and especially an actress like catherine tate to be familiarly hilarious, which makes the parts where she's deadly serious hit all the harder

I feel like with the doctor and donna, yes it's text that they're not sexually or romantically attracted to each other and I am so very into that of course, but I'm just so happy to see proof that they could shift their tension a little to the left and be pretty damn sizzling -- this especially because donna was a couple of years older than rose and martha and I sometimes feel like people who read romantic and/or sexual context into things do so because they're reading a conventional early-20s youthful sexiness to the female characters. so just having them go "we can be very very sexy with each other if we so desire" was fun

several people have pointed out david tennant in a skirt vs catherine tate in a suit, and i will do so as well, specifically because that was so veeeery t4t bisexuality of them, and i feel like there was a deliberate choice in the party scene to make the audience think about femininity and masculinity as it pertains to sexuality and power, specifically through the lens of these two characters and their equal status with one another. it means that when we get to the more direct confession at the failed wedding, when beatrice is wearing a plunging blue dress and benedick is in full uniform, that feels directly juxtaposed -- the costuming deserves its whole own analysis really, and i'm sure someone's done that, but specifically those two scenes make my brain go brrr

the way it moved from comedy to drama and back again so effortlessly. the way it placed emphasis on certain words in order to give sentences new meanings. simply the general feeling of very deep, deliberate engagement with the text

catherine tate's boobs. they did those costumes like that on purpose, you cannot convince me otherwise

[otaku553]

Quite frankly still obsessed with the three of them

A little procrastination doodle

[hayaku14]

gymnast kaito x sharpshooter shinichi meet-cute in the olympics au

[eskildit]

I’ve done all this planning for a no-cytherea-canaan-house-au but I don’t think I’ll ever finish it because it keeps getting derailed by cam pal and dulcie just constantly fucking. like no lyctorhood mysteries are being solved because they’re too busy railing each other. Good for them tho

[puppyeared]

Atla live action 😐

[armenelols]

By the way. Buying jeans in stores is impossible if you are shorter than average and they are gonna drag behind you like a veil. Have fun tripping on them (It's me. I am short)

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

a scar i totally forgot about in my notes and by extension that drawing i did (but you couldn't see peter's back there anyway so eh)

it's a handprint from kaine (somehow the only one? idk) TBH there's a chance this scar doesn't even end up happening so i guess it doesn't really matter if i forgot it cause it might not be relevant lol but i wanted to doodle it anyway...

[thornshadowwolf]

I don't remember why but I dreamed about looking up the common religions in different regions of Thailand last night

[muu-kun]

marine serre

[afrofairysblog]

This is so them!!! Perks to having ambiguous clothing or them not caring if the clothing is feminine or masculine oof I love them 🤧✊🏿

need syd and carmy sharing wardrobe. jackets and beanies and sweatshirts and tank tops and white tees and button ups and pajamas and boxers and muscle tees and and

just them grabbing things off of the floor to wear, uncaring, switching over until there’s no distinction between his and hers besides a couple of syd’s more flouncy tops and such. it’s clear they both care about clothes and what they wear. i love the idea of them pulling from the same closet, one casually commenting that a piece looks good on the other, uncaring that it’s theirs. syd laying naked in bed, watching carmy get ready, helping him pick out his outfit with an off-handed, what about that blue button up of mine? asking carmy yeah? when he’s donned it, looking at himself the mirror, carmy turning and asking yeah? back, then crawling towards her on the mussed bed, kissing her arm, shoulder, across her collarbone, and just under her chin, until he reaches her face, hovering a breath away, barefoot, freshly showered, smelling of aftershave and toothpaste, in her shirt and his go-to jeans, chain brushing her skin just barely as it makes its way through the couple of undone buttons, syd humming mhmm and kissing him slow and dirty before patting him on the butt and saying, you’re gonna be late. don’t forget your coat. ‘s on the couch. (where she left it after her morning bagel and caffeine run (coffee for carmen, earl grey for her, naturally), throwing it and his beanie on with some headphones to get to walking down the block.)

hmm.

[chucklepea-hotpot]

Susan's what if scene in s6e11 makes so absolutely sick, nauseous and angry.

[8lyme]

Heat Rises

Logan Howlett x f!Reader

SUMMARY: The mansion is boiling hot

WARNINGS: excessive use of italicisation, borderline dirty thoughts, makeout scene bc that's the best i can do, maybe ooc bc I fear I imagine Logan a little funnier than he actually is.

a/n: the ac in my room broke and inspiration struck after I doomscrolled through wolverine edits on tiktok ... chat i love men

It was hot. Boiling. Stifling.

You woke up at 2 a.m. drenched in sweat, sucking in a deep breath of hot, stale air. Grogginess fading, you stumble from your bed while pulling of your shirt and pajama pants. You open the door to the bathroom and turn the cold water on in the sink.

The heat was dripping down your back despite your lack of clothing. Overheating and still half-asleep, you stuck your head into the stream of cold water, splashing over your neck and across your shoulders.

You straighten to tie your hair up before turning the water off and running your still cold hands down your arms. The patter of thudding sounded outside your door, and you move to dress in a thin tank top and shorts.

You let your eyes adjust to the light as you began walking down the hallway of the mansion. A few children slipped out of their rooms in similar sweaty conditions to follow you down the staircase and onto the main floor.

Gathered by the professor's office were Scott, Storm, and Jean. The stray young mutants who trailed you settling around them.

"Goodmorning," You call out the the group.

"Do you know who turned this place into a boiler?" Jean asks. You both swipe sweat off your foreheads in sync while you shrug, shaking your head.

"Jesus, my glasses are gonna slide off my face," Scott complains, knocking his head against the wall in exasperation. He was shirtless, (rightfully so) wearing what you guessed were swim trunks.

"Charles is working on it," Jean put a hand on his shoulder, then quickly removing it to wipe his sweat off her hand and down the wall.

You turn to Storm, who was pulling the fabric of her tank top to fan herself off.

"Do we know where Bobby is?" You ask in search of the Iceman. You turned to scan the room, addressing the three students who followed you.

"Pretty sure him and Rogue took off before lights out," a young girl from the floor calls out. Her mutation rubberized her molecules, and her legs were in misshapen puddles - akin to flat stanley - due to the heat.

"Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here," a familiar voice groans loudly from behind you. "Nice shorts." Logan said to you before reaching your side.

"Alright fashion police," you respond in mock annoyance, offering a small smile at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."

He shot you a wink before turning away. When you caught full sight of him, your face froze and (if possible) more sweat rolled down your spine.

It was sickening how attractive he managed to look in what felt like the inside of an air fryer. Having clearly just woken up, his hair was perfectly tousled into a messier version of his normal tufts. His hair hardly looked damp despite the oiled-up glow he had on his face ...

And torso.

Fuck he was shirtless.

Although you've known Logan for the better part of a year, you unfortunately failed to experience him half-dressed. You'd been in close proximity frequently - sparring and other various training taking a large percent of that. You were friendly with each other, his acknowledgement of you with a nod whenever you walked in a room affirming he didn't hate you. You normally ate breakfast together, often offering the other the last portion of cereal or setting aside an extra cup of coffee for whoever entered the kitchen second. Within the last few months, however, after a particularly unfortunate mission gone wrong in almost every way, your friendship became more affectionate in those 'off the clock' moments.

Quick but firm hugs, slinging his arm over your shoulders, nudging each other with elbows or hips at inside jokes. He'd also been placing a hand on your back or shoulder every time he was in proximity to do so when moving behind you; in the kitchen, during briefings, even while you were grading papers in the library. He would touch your shoulder to let you know he was moving past you or going to sit next to you.

All that is to say you were aware - in theory - he was well built. He was taller and broader than you, so you made an educated guess. Theory proven, but well beyond expectations.

A month ago, you and Scott had stopped at a Texas Roadhouse an hour outside of the city after having spent two weeks clearing out a mutant experimentation lab in eastern Quebec. The plump and shine of the appetizer rolls (that you and Scott had both equally asked for seconds of) had absolutely nothing on Logan.

He damn near glistened. The dim light of the mansion sconces bronzed his skin, cutting him into an even more defined picture for you to look at. His chest expanded with each breath, shoulders and pecs slightly flexing in response. His hands lazed on his hips, if even possible causing the room's shadows to shade in the dips of his biceps and forearms. The veins of his arms just barely covered by the moisture-slicked hair covering his skin. If you had a fork and knife, you would throw them behind you to happily eat a piece of him with your hands.

You had to force yourself to swallow to shock your brain into looking anywhere else. You made an 'eaugh' sound and swiped your hands across your face. You meant it defensively, but you really were dripping into your eyes.

"I feel like I'm being waterboarded," you say disgustedly while wiping your palms on the back of your shorts. Feeling a texture that wasn't fabric, you turned your head. Glancing down, you understood Logan's earlier comment.

These shorts must have been from your freshman year of high school that somehow never got tossed or donated. They were a pair of (very) short, low-cut and dull pink velour Juicy Couture shorts with the word 'Juicy' spelled out in rhinestones on the ass. You actually felt like hurling as your body got even hotter.

You slowly turned your face away from the glittery stones on your booty to unfortunately glance in Scott's direction. His hands covering his mouth to block how obviously he was holding in a laugh.

"Scott, don't even look at me right now," you groan in exasperation, crossing your arms over yourself in attempted modesty. Scott's eyes glitter, and you snap "Keep your mouth shut" at him to no avail.

"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass?" He snickers. "In rhinestones?"

He's cracking up now with his hands in fists over his mouth. Jean bites a smile away and looks down, shaking to stifle a giggle. You look across the room to the kids who are choking down laughter themselves.

"Oh my fucking God-uh!" you again groan out, covering your eyes. "I really liked Jersey Shore when I was in High School, guys, leave me alone!"

Storm bursts into a laugh that inspires the others to join in. You're cracking up too, mortification disappearing. You glance at Logan through your fingers, who surprisingly seems to be choking back a laugh himself.

"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan clears his throat. "Save her from embarrassment?"

"Not how it works," She says. "I can't pull cold air or moisture out of this heat to create any snow." She looks at you and winks. "Sorry J-Wow, the shorts are staying on."

Scott about keels over with a snort before Jean thwaps him in the shoulder.

"If we bring you enough bags of ice, could you use that to cool the building down then?" Jean asks.

"In theory," Storm says. "I can stay here with the students to wait for the professor if you all don't mind searching for some. I'll need to conserve energy if I have to create a blizzard out of thin air."

"Copy. Divide and conquer," you say glancing at Logan again. The four of you turn to wander the mansion, but you stop to turn back to Storm.

"Also," you call back to her. "I'm so obviously Snooki."

Scott barks a laugh from the other corridor as you trot after Logan. He turns to meet you with a confused look on his face.

"What the fuck is a Snooki?"

---

Logan daydreamed about upper-cutting Scott with his claws unsheathed. He fantasized about throwing him down the stairs and curb-stomping him after. He imagined speeding over him on his own motorcycle and drilling him into the asphalt.

Right now, as your face flushed with embarrassment over your bedazzled booty shorts, he wished he had enacted any of those in reality so he had never, ever, heard Scott say a word about your ass.

Logan was used to waking up in a sweat, heart racing as he yelled out in anger (or fear, he couldn't tell which) from the nightmare that slipped from him the longer his eyes were open.

This time, he awoke uncomfortably hot and sprawled out diagonally above his sheets. He pushed himself up onto his knees and rubbed his eyes. He took a beat to wake himself up and stared at the clock on his nightstand blinking at 2:00 am.

He found it impossibly hotter in the hallway, swiping his palms on his pants every few steps. He regretted not scouring his room for shorts or even a pair of briefs. He moved down the stairs and rounded, following the sound of conversation. He dragged his sweaty palms across his pants again, groaning out; "Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here".

And then he almost tripped over his own feet.

You stood facing away from him, hands clasped on top of your head, in the tiniest clothing humanly possible. You wore a thin, strappy little yellow tank top that ghosted just under your ribs. In the dimmed lighting, your skin glistened, droplets of sweat gliding down your neck, your spine - fucking hell, was your sweat turning him on? - down your lower back, and -

Logan just about stopped in his tracks.

Impossibly tiny pink shorts clung to your ass, riding low on your hips. In glittering rhinestone, the word Juicy was bedazzled over the fabric. He felt like a dumb moth to a flame, trying to look like he wasn't seconds away from using his hands for some workplace misconduct.

"Nice shorts," he managed, trying to shake his head clear.

"Alright fashion police," you smirked up at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."

He winked at you, turning away to avoid staring at the beads sliding down your collar bone. Trying even harder to not imagine where the droplets would travel next.

Too focused on thinking about anything else in the world other than you, he blinked back into reality after Scott's voice grated his ears.

"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass? In rhinestones?"

Whatever you or anyone else responds with falls on his deaf ears. The only thing he can hear is the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood. His face tightened and he clenched his jaw.

He coughed to clear his head and interject into whatever conversation he's too furious to tune in to.

"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan paused, coughing again to catch himself from saying anything related to freezing Scott solid so he can shatter him to pieces. He settled on "Save her from embarrassment?"

Once again, Logan half-listened and half-internally plotted extreme violence, perking back in at the sound of your voice. He turned to you as you catch up with him.

"What the fuck is a Snooki?"

---

You declined to continue to explain trash TV to Logan. You settled on "It's entertaining to watch people be out of touch with reality", to which he quipped back a "That's stupid", effectively shutting you up.

The both of you wandered to the kitchen, you fanning yourself as Logan tried not to burst a blood vessel while holding to his willpower to not watch you tilt your head back and exhale while uttering whines of complaint. He decided the amount that his was sweating coupled with the lack of sleep made him delusional. That's why his brain kept trailing back to the same thought: you.

You pulled open the bottom drawer of the fridge, exposing the freezer. The rush of cool air fanned at your skin, and you signed in relief.

"Logan," you call, eyes closed. You waved him over and he leaned next to you.

"Oh my god," he quietly uttered out, eyes closing in relief. "Oh my god, this is better than sex."

You snorted and slapped your hand to your mouth.

"Logan, shut the fuck up" you giggle. He snickers back with you, shoulders shaking.

"Aw man," you groan, staring into the freezer drawer. Inside, there was an empty popsicle box, an half-eaten pint of strawberry ice cream, and an unwrapped ice-cream sandwich with freezer burn. You and Logan met each other's eyes with matching disappointed expressions.

You shut the freezer drawer, straightening up.

"I think there's a freezer in the basement lab," Logan says, sweat instantly beginning to drip down his neck.

"Aw man," you respond, lifting your arms slightly as sweat slides down you as well.

"Come on, bub," He moves around behind you. You feel the familiar ghost of his fingers against your back, but you recoil away at the thought of more heat against your body.

Logan yanked his hand away like he had been burned, gaze raking from you to his hand. You keep walking, not realizing how far behind you he's trailing.

---

He tries to shake it off, he really does. He feels stupid for letting something so small seep into his head and twist his thoughts around.

It's just because it's hot, he thinks to himself. Rationally, yes, he knows that is the answer. And yet he stupidly can't help but overthink every interaction he's had with you.

He masks it with a stony expression. The walk to the elevator is sticky and humid. When you both step in, he strays as far away from you as he can.

You've felt the shift in energy from him. He's pressed against the curved wall, arms crossed over his chest. It's palpable, but you aren't the type to pry when Logan is brooding.

He slips out of the opening doors first, relinquishing in the slightly cooler air of the lab. You trail after.

The air is awkward now. You fumble in your brain for the right words to say to him. 'Are you okay?' doesn't seem to cut it.

You've come to understand Logan. He has a complicated relationship with feelings and is awful at communication. If you don't notice the energy shift and bring it up, it isn't getting spoken about.

You follow him to a white metal crate pressed near a cabinet of saline. It's clasped shut and luckily on wheels. The precipitation on the outside confirming this is what you were looking for.

You place your hands on the corners of the crate to slide it from the wall, but Logan damn near rips it out of your hands. He shoves it across the lab towards the elevator.

You stare at him in shock and confusion. Your thoughts whir as you replay every moment from the entire day, convinced that he's pissed at you. He seems pissed. He's acting pissed.

You reach the elevator just as the door slides open. You're trying to decide if you should say something. Trying to think of a way to approach this in a way that will actually get him to talk. The air in the elevator is thick, more so with his shift in attitude than with heat.

Logan is locking himself inside his head. He can’t organize his thoughts and all he feels is stupidity. He can't understand why he's over analyzing, much less what he's over analyzing.

He doesn't know it's basically radiating off of him. Unaware that you've been staring at him to try and decipher what's wrong.

You utter out "Are you okay?" just to cut through the thick silence (and hopefully the wall he's locked himself in). You're sure he hears you, but the sliding of the door gives him the perfect opportunity to continue to ignore you.

Again, you trail after him. The wheels scrape against the hardwood, a testament to how hard he is pressing into the metal.

You're confused, sweaty, and almost on the verge of nonconsensual tears when you reach Storm and the other kids. The girl from the floor has turned into mostly puddle. Everything besides the tip of her shoulders and up are deflated to the wood. The other kids have spread to the floor themselves.

Logan shoves the crate towards Storm.

"Alright," he says curtly, once again crossing his arms. "Cool this shit down."

You fiddle with your fingers as Storm unlatches the metal. Her eyes gloss over to a milky white while she lifts the lid. The temperature drops almost instantly, and you begin to shiver.

"Done," She says, blinking away the glaze. "Charles said that-"

"Great," Logan cuts her off with a slam of the metal lid. He slides it around before moving back towards the elevator. You glance back and forth between Storm and Logan for a second. When you meet her confused expression, she gestures back towards him.

Ignoring the comfort of your sheets and lack of emotional drainage, you jog after Logan.

---

He huffs at you when you reach his side.

"I can push a metal box by myself," he says dismissively.

"Okay," you say, just to get something in the air. "Am I not allowed to come with you?"

You regret even speaking anyways as he scoffs at you, kicking the crate into the opening of the sliding door. It hits the wall with a loud clang. You flinch, but you're more concerned about him to not slip into the door at the last second.

You hug yourself as you start to shiver. Logan rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and turns away from you to lean against the wall. For the third time tonight.

You are racking your brain. Screaming at yourself to say something, literally any words at all. It feels like you've been panic-searching your thoughts for anything to say for a while.

"Are we not moving?" You ask. You wait for an answer before repeating, calling him by name and moving to stand in front of him.

He huffs before standing straight. After a beat, he says "We're not."

"Shit, how should we -" You start, but are cut of by the metallic unsheathing of Logan's Claws. In a blur he rears back and slices through the door, scraping three parallel lines across the metal.

"Jesus Christ, Logan!" You snap out at him. The glare he gives you while his claws sink into his skin makes you back up into the wall.

"What the hell is your problem?" you say evenly.

He scoffs at you, muttering out "Don't know what you're talking about."

"You just sliced the wall open," You point out, gesturing to said wall. "And you're acting like you're pissed at me"

"You're imagining things," he says back, resuming his position against the wall with his arms folded.

"Oh, that's bullshit. You're literally sulking in the corner and you want to tell me that isn't happening."

Logan stays silent. You almost expect him to turn into the wall so he can pretend to not see you.

"Logan," you say, trying to catch his eyes. "Why can't you be upfront with me? It's very easy to say 'Hey, you pissed me off because of this' or 'Oh, something sparked a bad memory' or, I don't know, 'I don't want to talk about it' "

"I don't want to talk about it," he responds. You smack the back of your head into the wall behind you in exasperation.

"Oh my god, obviously that was just an example. Please just tell me what's wrong."

Logan raises his eyes to meet yours for just a second. You catch his gaze, and you can tell that he wants to tell you. When you quietly say his name he looks away.

"Logan, you’re being mean." Your eyes flick over him, trying to catch any more indication that he'll open up. He stays stoick, stubborn piece of shit. You decide to wait just a moment longer before giving up. If he's going to be this adamant about whatever happened, you aren't about to keep fighting him on it.

"Okay, you’re pissing me off and I give up" You spit, sinking to the floor. You draw your legs up and fold into yourself, the chill of the room sinking into your skin.

It takes a long, awkward amount of time sitting in silence before you her Logan speak.

"You're cold," he states.

"No, I'm not," you say into your arms. Shivering.

"You look cold," he once again states plainly.

"I'm not, stop talking to me."

"I thought you wanted me to talk," Logan retorts at you. You look up at him over your arms, seeing a smug look on his face.

"Yeah, if the words you say are 'Hey, I'm sorry I'm being a dickhead and shoving stuff around and slicing into walls and ignoring you. I'm just thinking about X,Y and Z, which is making me feel X,Y and Z,' and then I would say 'Oh my gosh Logan, I had no idea! I'm so sorry, I wish you told me so I didn't make a big deal out of it because I thought you hated me!" You snap at him, mocking his voice for emphasis.

He blinks at you, and you move your head back into your arms.

"I don't hate you," he says quietly.

"You're acting like it."

"I don't."

The softness in his voice makes you sigh. You decide to take it easy on him, and ask him to come to you.

"What?" he asks, hesitation evident in his tone.

"Can you come sit next to me, please?" You ask softly.

"Why?" he asks, and you roll your eyes.

"Because I'm cold and you run much warmer than I do."

He moves and sinks down beside you, thankfully. You scooch closer until your arm is against his. The warmth of his body radiates against yours.

"Can you please talk to me?" you break the silence. The smallness in your voice chips away at his resolve, but his pride is still in the way. He's embarrassed enough about being upset in the first place, he can hardly stand (much less find the words) to say anything to you.

"Look, I'll literally cover my eyes so I'm not even looking at you," you offer, covering your eyes with your palms. "Please, just tell me."

"It's stupid," Logan says, pride dwindling down.

"I don't care, I promise. Please, Logan," You plead.

He sighs loudly, searching for the right words. He stutters out a few syllables before managing a sentence.

"In the kitchen earlier, you flinched away from me. I don't know. Didn't feel great."

Your hands dropped from your face. He was staring down at the floor. He looked embarrassed, maybe downright ashamed. You gently placed a hand on his arm.

"Logan, I'm sorry. It was just so hot and I felt all gross and sweaty. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear."

"Okay," he says, but his eyes never left the floor.

"And that's not stupid. I freak out over the tiniest things in the world."

"Yeah?" he huffs out a small laugh, finally turning to you.

"Yes, duh, I'm a girl. One time you didn't sit in the stool right next to me and I had to suck my tears back in and I thought about it for two days straight," you told him.

"Because I didn't sit next to you?" he teases, and you push off of his arm in mock annoyance.

"Yes, I'm not kidding. I remember once when you came back from a mission you ignored me when I said 'hi' to you on the stairs and locked yourself in your room for almost two days. I was genuinely convinced you wanted me dead and I couldn't function until you'd brought me toast because you thought I was sick."

"You weren't sick?" He raises an eyebrow at you.

"No! I thought you wanted me to jump into oncoming traffic!" You laugh at yourself, feeling ridiculous after replaying those few days back in your head.

"Okay, okay, I get what you mean. I don't want you dead, by the way. Never will." His face has relaxed and the tension in the air completely dissipated. You tilted to rest your head on his shoulder, relishing in his body heat and enjoying the comfortable silence.

"Seems like I get you pretty worked up, huh?" Logan smiles to himself, knowing he'll get a rise out of you.

"I'm not answering that," you snort, giving him a side eye.

"Are you kidding me?" He says in a deadpan.

"No! I'm not answering that," you sputter, forcing an even tone out of yourself. "Why'd you get so upset about me moving away from you?" You shoot back.

"I'm not answering that," he says, and you now shove him away jokingly.

"Oh, come on!"

You both start to giggle at each other, needing to look at anywhere except at the other. Weight has been lifted off both of your chests, being stuck in the elevator long forgotten.

"So," Logan speaks, letting the word hang in the air for a second. He wonders if the feelings he's completely sure are mutual should remain unspoken. "Are either of us gonna do anything about," he gestures to the both of you. "Or..."

"Oh man, I was wondering which one of us was going to take the bait first," you giggle out to mask the nervousness settling in your chest. "You almost had me, I never figured you'd say anything."

"Did I?" He asks. You turn to him and meet his gaze, smirking at him. You hum happily after a few seconds, turning away from him to lean on his arm once more.

"So," Logan says again, so you mock him and echo the word back.

"So," he tries again, obviously wanting a certain response from you. You bite, looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Oh my god, you can just kiss me. I'm cold, I'm not moving my arms," you say to him, earning a short laugh from him.

Logan moves and scoops you into him, sandwiching your arms between both your bodies. You slide one of your hands up him so that your fingertips reach his collarbone. His nose is just touching yours, and he tilts, barely touching your lips.

"So," he whispers against you. You snort and shove his face away with your free hand.

"Okay, nevermind! Get away from me!" You giggle, Logan following suit.

You feel Logan's hand move to the back of your neck, and you blink at him a few times with a small smile. Finally, he leans down to kiss you. You snake your free hand up to the side of his neck and grasp onto a few tufts of his soft hair. He leans into your touch slightly, so your curl your fingers in response.

One of his arms releases you to brace the floor for support, the other moving to hold you tighter. His fingers splayed across your shoulder blade as you slip your other arm out. You slide your hand up the side of his abdomen, almost moaning when the feeling of his back muscles reach your fingers.

You both pull away for a second to breathe before diving back into each other. Logan pulls you towards him, hand that was on the floor now sliding down your side to squeeze at the flesh of your hips.

He pulls back from you and presses and open mouthed kiss just under your ear. You crane your head back in response while feeling your way up the front of his body. Your fingers dip over the curves of his abs and over his chest, and then slide over his shoulder and down his arms. You think about the glisten of his body earlier in the night, the shadows of his muscular biceps and forearms.

"You and these damn shorts," he groans between the kisses he's now leaving on your collar. You let out a breathy laugh.

"I'll take them off later, they don't even fit," you say, pulling his face up so you can kiss him again.

"I hope you'll let me help," he says into your open mouth, causing you to squeeze your thighs together as you heat up.

The shrieking sound of metal against metal surrounds you both, and you shove Logan off you to scramble to your feet. He moves besides you, claws unsheathed on instinct.

The door of the elevator slowly slides open, coming to a halt while it's halfway open. Charles and Jean were waiting from the outside.

"There you both are," Jean huffs out. "You've been gone for about an hour."

"What time is it?" Logan asks, moving out into the mansion floor and sinking his claws back into his knuckles. You follow behind, the chill coming back to your skin.

"About 4:30 in the morning," Charles replies, gliding away from the opening of the metal door. "I suggest you all get some sleep while it's still early." He looks pointedly at you and Logan before rolling to face Jean.

"Agreed. Goodnight you two," Jean says, moving down the hallway to her room.

You and Logan make your way up the stairs, still buzzing. You stop at his door while he opens it. He turns to face you. Once again, you're back to staring at each other hoping you both can understand what the other is thinking.

"Well, good night Logan," You sigh. He cocks an eyebrow at you.

"You're not coming in?" He says while leaning against the door frame.

"Oh," you begin, a smile nervously making its way to your face. "Well ... I ..."

"I gotta help you with those shorts, remember?"

You can't help the soft laugh that leaves your mouth. You move towards him and step just into the doorway.

"I'll take all the help I can get," You say up at him. He takes the opportunity to wrap you in his arm and move you both through the door.

He turns you both, pressing your back against the wall next to the doorway, shutting the door as he molds his lips into yours. His hand slides under your flimsy yellow tank top as you hear the click of the door lock.

More than likely, neither of you were getting much sleep tonight.