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phsychobanana · 1 year ago

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In your eyes

Pairing: Zuko x Firebender!reader

Summary: When Zuko falls for a member of the gaang, he fears that his mistakes may ruin his chances with them.

Word count: 2.3k

A/n~ I think this is gender neutral? I don't remember putting any specific pronouns, but correct me if i'm wrong. Enjoy!

Funnily enough, the first time you met Zuko was at the northern water tribe. Two fire benders surrounded by waterbenders during a full moon. Not exactly an ideal situation for any firebender, but you were welcome, whereas Zuko was not.

You were running as fast as you could, your legs carrying you in a speed you didn't know was even possible. Katara was in trouble and the moon was slowly disappearing from the sky, fire nation soldiers were everywhere, the water benders were struggling with the loss of the moon and you were terrified.

"Katara!" You yell to her as you get closer to the girl. She was fighting a boy you had never seen before.

You jump on the boy's back and hold your hand to his throat, heating your palm up slowly.

"I would choose my next move carefully if I were you." You say as Katara puts her own hands to her neck and moves them around trying to mimic an explosion.

Suddenly, the boy moves his hands to your face and you feel a burning swipe across your eyebrow. You let go of him and move your hands to your face, a searing pain on your eyebrow almost making you drop to your knees. Katara rushes to your side in a panic,

You see the boy grab Aang and run off before you could do anything.

"Who was that?" You ask Katara angrily.

"Zuko."

***

Zuko followed you and the gaang around for weeks, those weeks turning into months. And the more he saw you, the more he wanted to see you again.

Unfortunately for him, the more you saw him, the more you wanted to smash his head through a window. But every couple has their problems.

You held a very strong grudge towards him, seeing as your eyebrow had scarred and you now had a line going through your eyebrow and over your eye. It made you angry every time you looked in the mirror.

Unbeknownst to you, Zuko felt absolutely terrible for what he had done. He didn't mean to scar you, he would never wish his fate on anyone. Not even his greatest enemy, which lamentably, happened to be you at the moment.

***

The next memorable time that you saw Zuko was in the crystal cave. You had both been thrown in there as a punishment and you were freaking out. Aang, Katara, and Sokka needed you.

You started hitting the walls, throwing as much fire power at it as possible, you even broke a crystal into one big sharp shard and slammed it against the door repeatedly, but it was no use.

"There's no point in doing that." Zuko says, looking at you with his blazing golden eyes. "We aren't getting out until they want us out."

You just scoff in response, unsure of why he was even talking to you in the first place.

He looks at you when he hears your scoff, "You don't have to be rude."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings by being mean?" You mock him in a baby voice, causing him to roll his eyes.

"What's your problem?" Zuko asks, looking you up and down with pinched eyebrows.

"What is my problem? You're my problem, Zuko. You've been hunting my friends and I for months, you've hurt us -or attempted to- more times than I can count, you gave me this," You point to your scar, making him flinch, "And you have the nerve to ask me what my problem is?" You let out another scoff and turn around, giving him your back.

Zuko looks down at his hands, not knowing what to say. He watches as you light each one of your fingers up like a candle to keep yourself distracted.

He walks over and sits next to you, doing the same with his fingers.

You look at him and roll your eyes.

He smiles softly to himself. You haven't moved away from him, yet.

***

If there had ever been even a sliver of you that had liked him in that cave, it was completely gone now. He had betrayed you that night in the cave and it hurt you.

It was the day of the eclipse and you were running through the underground tunnels, looking for Sokka. As you were running you bumped into something, falling hard to the ground.

"Ow!" A familiar voice huffed as the other person made contact with the ground.

"Zuko?"

He looks up, his hair falling into his eyes. You notice his eyes widen and light up, but just as he goes to say something you lunge at him.

With your hands around his neck, you yell at him through gritted teeth. "I trusted you!"

"I know, I'm sorry." He barely gets the words out, gasping and clawing at your hands.

You let go of him and slam him into the ground hard.

"I swear to the spirits, if you ever try to hurt my friends again I will kill you with my own two hands. No bending, no help, just me and you." You say and walk away to go find Sokka.

Zuko sits there for a moment replaying what you said in his head over again. A small smile spreads across his face and he jumps up, running after you.

***

"You have got to be kidding me!" You yell at your friends. They were letting Zuko, the guy that had tried to kill you and capture Aang on more occasions than you could count, into the group.

"Everyone deserves a second.....or 100th chance, Y/n." Aang says, placing a hand on your shoulder as Zuko takes a step towards you.

You clench your fist defensively, making him put his hands up in defense as he takes another step forward.

"I get why you wouldn't trust me, but I've changed." He says, taking one of your hands in his. You pull away with a hollow laugh and walk away.

"Fine, let this psycho join us. I don't care." You say as you disappear behind a wall.

Zuko looks down with a sigh. "Challenge accepted..." He says under his breath as he thinks of ways to win you over.

***

Two days after Zuko joined the gaang, you were attacked. A pack of firebenders found you, attacking the group. You all paired together, Sokka with Toph, Katara with Aang, and you with Zuko. You had begged Toph to pair with you but Sokka stole her, leaving you with the one person you did not want.

You were back to back, fighting off the soldiers when another fleet arrived. The gaang chose to run, not wanting to be captured. You stayed behind to fight off the rest of the soldiers so the others could get away.

"Y/n come on! Hurry!" Sokka yelled for you as you were running after Appa. A soldier dived at you and their hand grabbed at your ankle, making you tumble to the ground.

"Go!" You yell and Aang pulls Appa out of there. You kick your foot back at the soldier, successfully kicking them in the face. You run off into the forest, You can hear the soldiers running after you as you twist through the trees.

You feel something grab your arm and pull you toward them. Looking up, you see Zuko. He's not looking at you, instead looking at the soldiers running around looking for you. You notice that he pulled you into a clearing hidden by trees and bushes. He places his hand over you mouth as you go to say something.

His adams apple bobs as he swallows harshly, listening and watching for any signs that the soldiers might be headed towards the two of you. After no signs, he looks down at you, finally making eye contact.

His golden eyes shine as he looks at you and he smiles softly.

"Thank you." You say quietly, not wanting to be too loud.

He nods.

"Do you still hate me?" He asks with a barely there smirk.

You shake your head. "I don't think I ever really hated you." He smiles at you. "I just strongly disliked you. It was a very strong dislike. Very strong."

"Okay, I get it."

You laugh softly at his dismissiveness of the subject.

"Do you think I'm still a bad guy?" His voice is quiet. Barely a whisper, but you hear it.

You look at him, he's looking down at the grass, his fingers are playing with each other out of habit, his hair is fallen over his face and covering his eyes. You never quite realized how pretty he was.

"Of course not-" You begin to tell him your answer, but your words are interrupted by yelling.

The two of you turn your heads in the direction of the noises and see your friends running to you.

"There they are!" Katara calls to the others as she makes eye contact with you.

Zuko lets out a frustrated breath at the interruption, but he gets up and dusts off his clothes, offering you his hand.

***

The days after that moment in the woods would replay in your mind every night before you would sleep, every morning when you'd awake, every meal, every training session with Aang and Zuko, every group meeting, every day all day.

You had started watching Zuko more than you would care to admit. The way he tried to make up for all of his past mistakes always seemed to put a smile on your face. He helped Katara in the kitchen when he could, he always made time to talk about weapons with Sokka, he always played games with Toph and Aang, and he was especially trying to make it up to you. Though you didn't notice that part.

He always pulled your chairs out for you, he helped teach you how to control the lightning within you, he even got you flowers one time. Unfortunately the flowers backfired and Appa ended up eating them, sneezing petals for a week.

You were currently training Aang on the beach with Zuko. The sun was blazing down on your back and your cotton shirt was absorbing all of the heat, making you sweat more than you would normally.

You walk over to where Katara, Toph, Sokka, and Suki are sitting, sipping their little coconut drinks as they watch you and Zuko beat the arrows off of Aang.

You take both ends of your shirt and pull it over your head, leaving you in your shorts and bathing suit top. When you walk back over to the boys you notice how red Zuko's face is.

"You alright over there, Z?" You ask, worried that he might be overworking himself in the heat.

His head snaps to look you in the eyes, his face going an even deeper red.

"Y-yeah, heh. Why wouldn't I be?" He looks around, avoiding looking at you with everything in him.

You decide to ignore his weird reaction to your words and go back to teaching Aang.

"This one is a partner move. So, I'll demonstrate with Zuko and then when you understand how to do it, you can try with him." You explain as you walk over to the spluttering and red as a beet, boy.

You move his hand to your waist and his other in yours, your own face heating up a bit at this position. You then kick his own foot out from underneath him and flip him over your shoulder. You light your hand ablaze and put it near Zuko's neck like one would a sword.

"I thought you said this was a partner move," Zuko groans out.

"Yeah, good guy and bad guy. Partners." You say with a smirk.

"You can do that, right Aang?"

Aang nods his head excitedly.

After another hour or two of flipping Zuko over your shoulders, you all sit down around a camp fire on the beach for dinner. You and Zuko offer to collect the plates and take them back up to the house.

"You did good in training today." He says as he takes the plates from your hands and places them on the counter.

You let out a small laugh.

"Well I would assume I did considering the amount of times I was able to flip you."

He rolls his eyes and you take this moment to admire him.

His hair falls in perfect strands across his forehead, his golden eyes reflect the light of the setting sun peeping through the window, his skin is soft as you place your hand on his.

He looks at you confused when he feels your touch.

"You did good, too." You say softly.

He smiles at this, looking down at your hand that was still on his.

"How do you see me?" He asks, breaking the peaceful silence.

"What do you mean?"

"What am I in your eyes?"

You think for a moment, pondering how your answer.

"You're a person who has made many mistakes." You begin, making his shoulders droop a little bit. "But you are also a person trying to make up for all of those mistakes. You're a kid, a kid who has been through a lot. Yet, you're still sweet and funny and kind and loyal. You try to hide how you feel, but I can still see every emotion you have in your actions. You're trying. And for that, I think you are amazing. That is who you are in my eyes."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, making you feel nervous about how he would react.

With a million thoughts racing through his mind, he decides not to say anything. You said that his actions meant more, so he spoke with an action.

He gently placed his hand on your cheek and leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away at any second. But you don't.

His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, his hair tickling your cheek. You smile into his kiss making him smile as well. Your arms wrap around his neck and you pull him closer as he pulls away from the kiss. You rest you foreheads against each other, catching your breath.

"I think I like you." He says, making you laugh.

"Oh shut up." You say and lean in for another kiss.

#prince zuko #zuko #avatar the last airbender #zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #x reader #atla #zuko atla #fire lord zuko #aang #avatar aang #katara #sokka #toph #suki

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solelifauna · 2 months ago

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Yandere Batfam & Neglected Reader Prt. 2

Okay, so I didn't realize how much building I was gonna do around (Y/n's) social life so this chapter is honestly about knowing (y/n). Anyways, the next chapter will be from the batfam's pov and focus more on the yandere bits! Hope you enjoy this chapter tho!

Tag List!: @sitepathos @ferakillia @uknowimdumb @shycreatorreview @niggrrooo @dhanyasri @cantfindmelol @space1crow @earth-to-mee @rosecentury @yuyuzi-ling @simpingfor-wakasa @bat1212 @sheepintherain @person-from-daaaa-voidddd @resident-cryptid @cupids-pretty-boy @danni1323

The change started slowly on a normal evening, an evening like every other. It was a football season game day, the big match between the Gotham City High Bats and the Gotham Prep Knights. For the rich prep kids, this was nothing more than another game, but for your school, this game was everything. This would help your school get the recognition and funding it deserves, and allow some students to be scouted and rewarded for their talent.

Not only that, but Gotham Prep always, every season goes to state, beating out all the other public schools in the city. They haven’t lost a game since the early 80s so there was a lot riding on this game.

Your role, funnily enough, was representing the school as one of the Gotham City High school cheerleaders. Turns out that the gymnastics classes you took before were actually useful for purposes other than trying to impress Dick. You surprisingly took to cheerleading like a fish to water, liking the competitiveness and sense of belonging that came from joining the team.

Anyways, you, the cheer team, and the football team were on a bus headed towards the bigger, better Gotham Prep football field. The bus was loud with music and schoolmates hyping each other up for the big game. Ethan, a friend of yours on the football team was nervously shaking his leg and squeezing his helmet so hard you thought it would crack.

Both you and your friend Arya noticed.

“Ethan, the game hasn’t even started yet and I already see a crack forming on your helmet.” You said jokingly, a gentle arm on his shoulder.

He startled, “Jesus Christ (Y/n) warn a guy next time.” Ethan spoke, offering a nervous smile.

“You need to stop freaking out bro. When you do, it freaks out the others on the team.” Arya gently said.

“I know, I know but— but there’s just a lot riding on this game. For a lot of us, this is our only way to get out of Gotham, and if we screw up the finals, we’ll be stuck here forever.” Ethan said solemnly, looking around at all his teammates.

“Well then good thing you guys aren’t gonna lose. Y’all have spent two years training to make this comeback, to make sure that Gotham City High finally gets this win. I promise you’ve worked harder than those assholes at Gotham Prep, so just go out there and put your training to use. Don’t let your nerves get to you, you have no reason to.” You calmly said.

“Yeah—yeah, we have trained harder, haven't we? Yeah, you’re right! We've just gotta go out there and play like we've practiced.” Ethan exclaimed, as if suddenly realizing why he should have confidence in himself and his team.

“Exactly!” Arya said, matching his enthusiasm and hitting Ethan playfully on the shoulder.

The rest of the bus ride to the stadium was louder than ever, the coach and other teammates taking turns to hype up the more nervous members, to get them confident for the field. Everything was about normal once everyone made it to the stadium. The band was set up, and people were flooding the bleachers. It wasn’t until the last ten minutes before the game when normalcy died.

“Hey (Y/n), isn’t that your family?” A girl, Maya, says.

Lo’ and behold, Bruce Wayne and his entire gaggle of children were sitting on the home side of the bleachers, sporting Gotham Prep t-shirts.

“What—oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. What the hell are they doing here, they don’t even like football like that!?” You shout in frustration.

It was then when you remembered a conversation Dick, Bruce, and Damian had at the dinner table. Something about how it would help Damian out if he started going to school events and games, getting him acclimated to what being a normal teenager was like. That was all fine and dandy, but you didn't think the entire damn family was going to show up. Oh, the gossip columns are gonna have a field day with this. You could already imagine the headlines, “Bruce Wayne openly isolates daughter (Y/n) Wayne” or even, “The Wayne Family once again publicly shows dislike for daughter (Y/n) Wayne.”

You rolled your eyes at the thought, you had bigger things to worry about right now.

“Are you good (Y/n)?” Arya questions softly.

She was one of the only people who you spoke your sorrows to, one of the only people who actually knows of just how lonely you were. Of course everyone knew that Bruce Wayne and his family didn't really like you very much– thank you Vicky vale– but nobody but Arya and Ethan really understood the crux of your situation.

“Yeah, I'm all good bro, don't worry about it. Just focus on the game.” You said dismissively. It didn't bother you anymore, sure it hurt a little bit, but this was expected.

“Alright, its time to shake hands with the other team, everyone line up!” the football Coach, Coach Daniels, all but yelled.

You sighed, moving to the front of the line for the cheerleaders; you were team captain after all. Both the football teams and cheerleaders made their way to the center of the field where they met. You looked back at the rest of your team, you all knew that this was going to be an unpleasant interaction, it always was. The Gotham Prep cheer captain walked up to you, disdain and poorly concealed disgust on her face. You all quickly shook hands, trying to get this exhausting ordeal done and over with, but of course the other captain had to open her mouth.

“You lower end city girls sure have your own sense of style.” Darla, which was basically code for calling you and your team sluts. Wow, how original.

“You should see what’s underneath the jacket.” You replied, giving her a sharp smile.

She floundered, clearly expecting her insult to rile you and your team up.

“Ugh, as expected of Bruce Wayne’s biggest embarrassment. You sad Daddy doesn't like you? Or maybe she’s just glad she gets to mooch off of him before he ends up disowning her.” Another girl pipes up, drawing mind grating giggles from the rest of their team. You recognized her, she was the daughter of some hot-shot CEO.

You just tiredly look back at your team, a few of them getting angry on your behalf while others looked to you in concern.

“What, not going to say anything?” The other captain haughtily questioned.

“I mean, what exactly is the response you’re expecting? Yeah, Bruce Wayne doesn't like me, but at least I didn't have to buy my way into the cheer team or have my daddy pay to make sure I wasn't held back.” You stated boredly.

She was silent in shock, right before the anger came bursting through.

“You whore! I’m going to fuck you up, take you to court and sue you!” She shrieked.

“You’re going to sue me? You mean sue Bruce Wayne?” You snorted, “Like that’ll ever happen. And bitch, you couldn’t fight if your life depended on it, so next time you threaten me remember–I can and will beat the ever-loving shit outta you.”

That must have sparked some fear in her because she just turned around and led her team back to their side of the field. You’re sure others noticed your altercation, obviously having no idea what was being said, but it was clear to both sides of the field that nothing good was said. You’re ready to turn back to your side when you accidentally make eye contact with Tim. The cold, calculating look in his eyes has you shifting in discomfort, you quickly look away as the cheer team and football players head back to their respective sides.

The players took their place onto the field while your team got into formation.

“Aright guys, this’s the big one! Give it all you got, just like we practiced!” You yelled.

Just like that, the whistle blew signaling that the game started.

By the time you reach half time, Gotham Prep is fifteen points ahead of Gotham High. Your school does its low budget halftime performance which pales in comparison to the extravagant Gotham Prep performance. Your side of the stadium grows louder, louder in support of the football team. Before you know it, the boys are lining up for the second half of the game. Thankfully, Gotham High shoots up in points, the score now becoming 34 to 29. The issue is, the game is starting to come to an end with only two minutes on the clock. The crowd is loud, but everyone knows it'll be damn near impossible for Gotham High to win now. The only way to win would be to score a touch-down, which would bring Gotham High to 35 points.

It isn't until the 36 second mark when Ethan sees an opening and makes a run for it with the ball. The crowd is booming, your own voice adding to the mix of cheers and shouts.

“Come on Ethan! Come on!” You yell, voice undoubtedly hoarse.

There's 5 seconds on the clock when Ethan dives over an opposing player and rolls into the other team's touchdown zone. The score board changes, the numbers now showcasing 34 to 35. Gotham City High with 35. Everyone goes crazy. You and Arya are holding each other jumping up and down. Holy shit, yall won! The football team was celebrating on the field, as they’re announced as the winners, a big trophy being handed into Ethan and his team's hands. And by tradition, you, Arya and the coach go grab the large gatorade barrel and proceed to soak the football team with it. There are yelps and laughs but everyone knows what it means, it means “you’ve won”. You and Arya run up to Ethan launching into him, uncaring of the gatorade now soaking your uniforms.

It was a good day, a happy day. Everyone started loading up into the buses, starving for the victory dinner at Taco Bell. You honestly, truly forget that the Bats were even here. Shit hits the fan however, when you're in the middle of messing up a chalupa and Bruce Wayne and the rest of his brood walk in, making awkward eye contact with you. You promptly proceed to choke, Arya hitting your back to get you to stop. You do, but holy shit was that embarrassing. Also, what in the ever-loving fuck were they doing here!?

Before you could voice your utter disbelief, another familiar face barrels into your table. Oh great.

“Hey ladies, how’d you like the game? Betcha I looked good on the field.” The voice of Adrien, a freshman player on the team, made itself known.

He even made it a point to flex his arm muscles, hoping to impress you and Arya. You both just looked at each other before bursting out laughing. This poor freshman has been trying to get with y'all all year, despite you and Arya being sophomores. His god-awful attempts at flirting were absolutely adorable and downright hilarious.

“Guys please don't laugh, I promise I have better pick up lines.” he begs, his demeanor that of a kicked puppy.

“I'm sorry man, you're just too adorable, we can't take you seriously.” Arya says amused.

“Why don't you go talk to one of the freshman cheerleaders? I'm sure I heard Hiba and Darla talking about how good you did on the field.” You pipped in.

“No way! Are you serious!? Oh-uh, gotta blast ladies! See ‘ya around!” Adrien stutters, excitedly scrambling off to go find the girls you mentioned.

You and Arya broke off again into a fit of laughter.

“Were you guys teasing Adrien again?” Comes a lighthearted scold from Ethan.

“Not anymore than usual. Plus, I think we finally got him to pursue girls in his own grade.” You responded, a smug smile on your face.

Ethan just chuckled before sitting down with you and Arya. You all talked and laughed some more, your mood only being slightly soured by the Wayne family’s presence at the table across from yours. You did your best to avoid their not-so-casual glances in your direction. Why they were here is a can of worms you had to marinate on later. But for now, you'd just enjoy the rest of your night.

It didn't take long before everyone started getting ready to leave. Some students had their parents come pick them up, probably to go celebrate the school's victory with their families, whilst everyone else was getting ready to load back up into the buses and head to the school where parents would be waiting for their kids. You, however, would be biking back to the manor on your own. Sure both Arya’s and Ethan’s parents had offered you a ride, but you had declined. There was no need for them to go out of their way for you, especially when they should be spending their time celebrating with their children. You’d honestly just ruin the mood with your shitty circumstances.

So as you threw away the last of your trash and started walking to leave the restaurant, you were not expecting to be stopped, let alone stopped by Bruce Wayne. You froze, not knowing what to do. What did he want?

“(Y/n),” He started, voice lacking any tell-tale emotions, “no need to get on the bus, you’ll be riding home with us.”

You noticed immediately how he didn't really give you a choice, just an order meant to be followed. You swallowed nervously, you did not, under any circumstances want to be in a car with any of them.

“There's no need for that Bruce, I–um actually left my bike back at the school and I can't just leave it there so…yeah. I’ll–I'll see you back at the manor.” You said nervously. You weren't used to talking to him and to be quite frank he scared you.

Bruce of course took note of the fact you had not called him “dad” or “father” and had called home, “the manor” instead. This is when Dick decided to chime in.

“What, you're not going to bike all the way back home, are you?” Dick jested sarcastically.

“Uh, yeah? It's how I get back home everyday.” You mention abashed. Did they seriously not even know how you got home? Whatever, you’re too tired for this.

Bruce and Dick glance at each other, their shared look holding a meaning you couldn't understand.

“Well, it doesn't matter. You’ll just ride home with us from now on.” Dick stated, faux cheer in his voice.

“Wha–what? Hold up, I can’t just leave without my bike! It’s gonna get stolen or–”

“We’ll get a new one, now stop fussin' and get a move on,” Jason grumbles, cutting you off.

You just sigh in defeat. Why the hell are they doing this? Why now? In the end, your questions don't matter as you get marched over to the waiting Rolce Royce Limo. That was when Arya and Ethan noticed you walking away from the bus, not even noticing the Waynes in their hurry to catch up to you.

“Hey (Y/n), why are ‘ya–oh.” Arya yells out before going silent after noticing the intimidating figure of Bruce Wayne and the even more intimidating figure of Jason Todd.

“Oh, hey guys. So–uh, I actually have a ride back to the manor now so I'm all good.” You say awkwardly.

“That's–that's great! But, what about your bike bro?” Ethan questions worriedly, the awkward and almost tense energy affecting him.

“I'm just going to pray and hope that it's still there when I come back for it tomorrow.”You answer tiredly.

“Damn, well, get home safe and get some sleep. We’ll see you soon girl.” Arya says, hugging you.

You hug her back.

“You too guys, get home safe. And Ethan, good job on the field bro, we’re all super proud of you.” You voice, a small smile on your face while you give him a hug.

“Thanks (Y/n), couldn't have done it without y’all hyping me up.” He says.

“Alright, alright no more sappy, corny lines. Now get on the bus before Coach Daniels pops another blood vessel.” You joke.

“Shit, I didn't even realize that was him yelling! Ethan, we gotta go! See ya (Y/n).” Arya exclaims, practically dragging Ethan to the bus with her.

You wave at them, your smile slowly disappearing as you realize you're about to have the worst fifteen minutes of your life on this car ride. The staring you were trying to ignore when talking to your friends was more prevalent now, making you anxious as you entered the car, squirming and fiddling uncomfortably in your seat as everyone else piled in.

You internally sighed as you heard the door shut and the car engine start. Perhaps it’d be better if you drank acid and died instead, but alas, it was too late for any of that.

You’d just do your best to stay quiet and avoid the eyes boring into your very being.

#yandere batfam #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere cassandra cain #yandere bruce wayne #platonic yandere #neglected reader #neglect #yandere Stephanie brown #batfamily #batfamily x reader #batfamily x neglected reader

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 4 months ago

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...ready for it? - j.l. howlett

a/n: hi! here's a full version of a blurb i wrote a few days ago that got so much love so quick that i wanted to give yall a full version! the beginning is literally just the blurb but after that it's all new! like many of you wolverine brainrot has hit me hard, so here's graphic smut about him. leave a comment or a reblog if you enjoyed :) warnings: SMUT!!!!! some dumbification, use of pet names, reader is fem, reader is a mutant and able to control plants, lots of cursing, lots of grotesque fliritng/fantasies, some soft moments, some sort of primal sex, oral (fem receiving), some of the setting is probs inaccurate but whatever. let me know if i missed any big ones!! word count: 4.9 k summary: well, you had to find some way of entertaining yourself at charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters. and you have always liked an emotionally unavailable, absolutely hung, challenge. pairing: logan howlett x mutant!reader now playing: ...ready for it? - taylor swift "in the middle of the night, in my dreams/you should see the things we do, baby/in the middle of the night in my dreams/i know i'm gonna be with you, so i take my time"

You are absolutely enthralled with him. It’s actually sort of pathetic how your fingers twitch at the sight of him, at how the mention of his name or god forbid the sound of his voice makes your head snap up, attention deficit disorders be damned!

Funnily enough, you had no damn interest in Xavier’s stupid mutant school, because to you, you’re not an outsider because of your mutant abilities (that don’t have much of a physical apparition, at least one that you can’t hide) but because there’s never been much of a place for you to fit in.

But, you were behind on rent and of course, you fucking hate your job, so why not? You’d be able to be slightly less of a freak, and you’d get free room and board in the process! (Where Charles gets all of his money, you do not know.)

And because you’re a little older, Charles doesn’t force you to sit in a class room to learn about basic arithmetic and grammar lessons, so you really only do some training around three times a day, you have your own room (with a dusty box under the other bed, you also suspect your room used to be the ‘sex’ room) and you have the weekends off.

So for a twenty something year old with few ambitions, the social skills of a Martian with autism, and a huge crush on every older emotionally unavailable man you meet, it’s a pretty good set-up.

You’re waiting for time to pass in the garden, just reading a rather interesting book that Charles had recommended after he noticed you needed something to pass time before you started making bad decisions.

You hear his heavy footsteps on the gravel before you see him. Your heart beats faster, but you will yourself, do everything in your power not to glance up at him. And you let out a breath as you succeed, keeping your head down.

“In your natural habitat, are you, spitfire?” Your head darts up to him—There’s no way he isn’t talking to you, you know you’re the only one in this garden. And you can see his lips twitch up and you want to crawl out of your skin!

“My-My natural habitat?” You laugh, closing the book you’re reading because your attention is locked to him now.

“Yeah, seems like it.” He saunters on up to you and sits on the bench next to you.

And let’s make something very clear—

Logan Howlett does not sit.

This man poses, as if there’s always some invisible camera capturing every frame of movement, from the way his legs spread out, to the way his chest lifts when he inhales.

Fuck, you think you might die if you can’t suck him off right now.

“And what exactly is my uh.. habitat?” You question.

He takes out his lighter and a cigar, placing the cigar in his mouth as he gestures to the space around the two of you, lighter in hand.

“A garden.” He says, matter of facility, as his voice is muffled only the slightest bit by the cigar.

And you just sort of look at him before asking,

“Oh, you enjoy being boiled down to your mutations, Claws?” You question, and as he goes to light the cigar, he smirks.

“Alright, you gotta admit though, it is cliché!”

You are absolutely in agreement, there is zero doubt you are as much of a walking, breathing, real life living, stereotype.

“It is not!” And the pair of you give each other this look, like you’re both shocked at how whiney that statement is!

“Uh-huh, sure, Spitfire.” It sounds almost like he’s purring at you.

When he lights his cigar, he’s sort of eying you for your reaction, whatever you might say.

“You know, smoking is not only bad for you, it’s awful for the environment.”

“You’re probably the most cliché little freak around here.” Which.. honestly..? Shouldn’t possibly turn you on as much as it does.

You just stare at him for a minute, and he smirks.

“Cat got your tongue?’

And maybe it’s stupid and maybe it’s immature but your hand just comes over to fiddle with the pointed part of his hair.

“We’ll you certainly look the part.” He just looks at you, and honestly? The way he’s looking at you, it’s like he’s proud of you for teasing him.

“Aw, there’s my little spitfire,” He teases, just to see how red you get. And red you are— it’s embarrassing. And here’s the kicker—You are young. Exceptionally young, and what’s insane about that? How horny it makes both you and Logan.

The idea of fucking your innocent cunt, tight and all his, drives him genuinely mad. And you are, quite literally, a whore for the idea of riding this older man’s dick. You know he’s big—sometimes you see the outerline of it when he walks away from you all huffy and puffy.

“You’re a tease, Claws.” You respond, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Says you,” he raises and eyebrow, leaning closer to you now, “You’re the one laying around in the sun, looking like that.”

“Looking like this?” You scoff. You’re wearing a muscle tee and a pair of ripped jeans, but the gaps are huge and he can see your thighs. He wants to devour you, and you would let him if he only asked.

And let’s be clear—he is fucking you with his eyes. There’s no way to go around it.

“I think you’re just.. horny.” You tease, and he just growls. Seriously, this man who is undressing you with his eyes, growls, because he does want you and he is horny!

“I think you’re onto something.” He purrs, and you want to just.. god. You don’t know how to express the pit of desire that grows in you. “I would fuck you until you couldn’t think, right here among your pretty flowers. Would you like that, baby?” he asks, his hand finding your thigh.

But you just cough on the smoke from his cigar, before frowning.

“You really shouldn’t smoke.”

“Aw, I’ll make it up to you.” He smirked. “Promise, spitfire.”

He’s very close to you now, so you take a second to just breath and you know that he knows that he’s got you—hook, line, and sweet, sweet sinker.

And then you realize what exactly it is that you’ve gotten yourself into. And what a nightmare it is—Or maybe a dream if you listen to the pathetic part of your brain, but you are into this an in a way that is concerning for your own mental wellbeing and desperately want to avoid him having all the power in this situation.

“Oh, I am sure you will.” You assure. You lean forward, plucking the cigar from his lips, and placing it on the ground, squashing it beneath your heel. With a flick of your wrist, vines and grass grow over the cigar, composting it. And from the vines, grows a small little buttercup flower.

You lean down and pluck the flower from the grass, before tucking it behind Logan’s ear.

“You should take care of that hard-on you have, Claws.” You hum, before standing up, and walking away. And for a minute, he just watches you go—partly to because you have an amazing ass, but partly because you have absolutely flabbergasted him.

And have made him want you even more.

• • •

The next time you see him is the next night, in the woods near the mansion. Because the literal sixteen year olds you go to ‘school’ with do not know how to do anything on the weekend except drink, fuck, and smoke.

Honestly, you kind of fit in great.

So here you are, nursing a mason jar of.. some fucked up concoction, and you’re not too sure what’s in it, but you have drunk two of them and are on your third. You think you might live forever, until you glance up and see Logan, in these fuck me jeans and this burnt orange flannel and a wife beater.

Instantly, you know that you’ll die tonight if you don’t have him.

He approaches you with this cocky smirk as if he hasn’t realized your intoxicated state yet.

“Now what’s a little spitfire like you doing all alone on a Friday night?” he questions, tilting his head. His smirk is deadly. And you roll your eyes.

“Here comes the big bad Wolverine, all bark and no bite.” You scoff, and his eyes flash with surprise. Only for a second, but even drunk, you notice the way his eyes shoot up in surprise.

“All bark and no bite? That’s quite the accusation.” He hums.

“Well, we’ve been.. eye fucking each other for a few weeks now, and you haven’t even kissed me yet. I get being into foreplay and edging, but holy shit, Claws, throw a girl a bone once in a while.” You scoff, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Are you.. drunk?”

“Do you think I’m drunk?”

“Yeah, you’re drunk.” He sighs. You respond by taking another sip of your drink, but before the bitter liquor hits your tongue, he snatches the bottle from you.

“Let me take you home.” You’re sure your eyes look like hearts, so, dreamily and a little love struck, you respond,

“’Kay.”

And he chuckles a little bit at that.

“We’re not gonna do anything, I’m just gonna walk you home, spitfire.” He starts, and your face falls a little bit, but in an effort to hide it, you respond,

“..’kay.” And he sees right through you. You’re pretty much an open book. And the alcohol doesn’t help. His pointer finger and thumb comes to your chin, and he gently rubs his thumb against your lip.

“Don’t be like that, pup. It’ll happen soon. Just not tonight, okay?” He assures.

“’Kay.” You answer softly, and you think he smiles at you but your vision is sort of blurry. Then, you blink, as a gust of wind moves through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. He sighs, and wordlessly takes off his flannel, before wrapping it around you. Your arms slip into the sleeves, and you almost cry because it’s like, the best hug in the entire world. “Won’t.. you be cold, then?” you question, and he just shakes his head.

“Let’s get you home, spitfire.” He holds a handout to you, and without a second thought, you take his hand. He wraps his arm around you, and you lean against him like it’s something the two of you do often. If you were sober, you might short circuit. But, you’re not, so it feels right.

The walk home is quiet, but Logan’s thumb gently rubs against your shoulder. He wants to do more, but he knows he shouldn’t, since you are in fact plastered.

You ignore the giggles and whispers from teenagers making their way past you to the party or to their rooms, and you even ignore the way their giggles stop when they meet Logan’s gaze.

When you get back to your room, you take a second to lean against the door, and he takes a second to admire the way you look in his clothes.

“Ready for bed?” he asks gently, and you just smile at him.

“You’re really pretty.” He just does the half scoff-half chuckle that you’re obsessed with. Then, he wraps his arm around you again, opening the door to your room, and guiding you inside. He gets you to your bed and sits you down, before kneeling in front of you to untie your boots. “Has anyone ever told you how good you look on your knees?” you ask.

He just gives you this smirk.

“One or two pretty girls back in the day.” He says, “None as pretty as you though, spitfire.” He says, and you groan, leaning back and laying on the bed, as he pulls off your boots.

“You’re awful.” And you need him.

“Yes, I know, baby.” His voice is almost condescending, and it turns you on. But then he stands up, grabbing the folded blanket from the edge of your bed, and laying it over you. He finds his place kneeling next to you again as you stare at him, cozy in bed. His hands gently brush hair from your face. “Do you need anything else?”

“You.”

“Soon. But not yet, pup. You’re too drunk.” He says softly.

“Thanks for walking me home, Claws.”

“You’re very welcome, Spitfire.” He purrs, leaning forward and kissing your forehead gently. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Logan.” You mumble as you drift off to sleep. He sits there for a few minutes, just looking at you for a long time before he gets up and creeps out of your room.

• • •

The next morning, you sit in the cafeteria, drinking a large coffee, and nursing the worst hangover, possibly of your life. Made even worse by the fractions of memories about what happened last night.

You rub your eyes, flinching when you hear the clatter of a plate on the table, and someone sitting across from you. You peek through the gaps of your fingers to see Logan sitting across from you, a smirk on his face.

He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

“I hate you. Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” he laughs. But he sees how much pain you’re in, and slides two pieces of sourdough toast to you. “Truce?”

“Truce.” You agree, taking a slice and biting into it. You feel better.

And after a moment of silence, he asks,

“I’m never getting my flannel back, am I?”

Truthfully, the flannel has been folded neatly and tucked into your drawer, for the next time you need some comfort.

You tilt your head, looking right into his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

• • •

Weeks go by like this.

You spend your days either going to class or hanging out—okay, it’s more like flirting with a side of hanging out, with Logan. The pair of you become quite close, and maybe that’s why you haven’t fucked yet.

Oh, the two of you want to, and it’s obvious to everyone (Charles has called you out for being distracted more times than you can count, and you remind him not to probe your mind, and he tells you he does not need his mutant abilities to see that your thoughts linger elsewhere.) but you’re.. afraid, at this point.

Which is odd, because you’re no virgin, you know he wants you, but.. what if everything changes after that? Maybe he’ll start to avoid you. Maybe you’ll start to avoid him. And you’ve really become good friends, and don’t want to lose it.

And then, there’s the fact that half the time, he’s away on dangerous missions, and even if he can regenerate, you worry about him. But he hasn’t been on any lately, so it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You’re sitting in the garden when it happens.

He finds you, and this time, you do not even try to hide the way your head picks up and gazes at him.

“Hi, Spitfire.” He grins, and you smile a bit at him.

“Claws, what can I do for you?” And he sits next to you, and for some reason, maybe because he doesn’t say anything at first, you know that there is something wrong. And you know what it is.

After a few minutes, you glance to him.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Your voice is quiet, as if you’re scared that if it gets any louder, everything will fall apart.

“Yeah. Charles has me going on another mission.” He doesn’t say it, but you both know this isn’t an involuntary thing.

“Cool.” You cringe at your reaction.

“I guess.” He laughs weakly, as if he knows he’s twisting a knife buried within you.

Silence fills the air. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but it isn’t the relaxed silence you’re used to with him. Confessions dance on the tips of your tongues, and you’re so close to saying it, that when you turn to each other suddenly, you just need to look at each other for a second.

“Be safe.” You say quietly. “And hurry back.” You request, and you try not to sound like you’re begging.

“Of course.” He says, like it perplexes him that you even have to request. “I can’t leave you here yearning for me forever, can I?” He teases, and for a moment, you have this flash of an alternate universe where he does die on this mission and you are trapped in this garden forever, waiting for him. Like a lost puppy, or worse, a lost lover. The mere thought of it fucks with your head.

“No. You can’t. I won’t allow it.” You explain, “If anything, I’m the one that should be haunting you.” He just smiles. A real, not at all awkward smile.

“I’m sure you will, spitfire.” He says, and his head comes forward so that his forehead is resting against yours.

“When do you leave?” You ask gently, and he sighs. His breath smells of mint and cigar smoke, maybe even a hint of lemon.

“An hour. I have to pack quick and then debrief.” He answers you.

And just as love struck as you were the night of the party, you answer,

“’Kay.” You smile weakly at him. And he just.. looks at you for a few minutes before sighing again. He pulls away and leans up to kiss your forehead again, before standing up. He turns a few steps away from you just to tease you.

“Don’t miss me too much, okay?” he requests softly. Before you can stop yourself, you stand up, and wrap your arms around him. He only pauses for a half a second before he returns your embrace, and it becomes apparent that you both needed this moment. You stay like this for a few minutes before you pull away.

“Bring me back a souvenir.” You try, a soft smile on your face.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll bring you something great from the great city of Tulsa, Ohklahoma.” He grins.

“Deal.”

• • •

For the next week, you feel like this must be what it was like for housewives when their husbands went to war. You knew all too well that that statement was extremely dramatic, but you simply cannot help yourself.

You think you might die by day three.

It’s like you’re going through withdrawals and it’s making you go genuinely insane.

You have worn this man’s flannel for almost the entire week, because at first you’re a little self-conscious of other people noticing your repeating outfits, but only at first. By day four, you have decided you don’t give a single fuck.

Day eight you’re just laying in bed, quietly making a list of all the positions you want him to take you in. It’s a long list. You’re brought back to reality by a knock on your door. You’re about to snap, knowing that you’ll tell whatever child has been sent to bother you to scram, but when you open the door, you grin widely.

Logan stands there, looking tired, but he’s smiling and holding up a shot glass that reads ‘Tusla’, and has skyline on it.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d get you a souvenir?” He asks, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, pulling him in. He hugs you back, making sure to squeeze you just a bit—your feet barely come off the ground.

He pulls away, and you grin up to him.

“You came back.” You say it as if you can barely believe it, and just for a moment, he feels an emotion he can’t quite place, but he ignores it.

“Of course I came back, spitfire. All in one piece too, as requested.” He grins, and you’re just.. amazed at the look of him. “What’s that look for?” He asks gently, tilting his head.

“I just..” you start.

And then you break.

You lean up and kiss him gently, those stupidly delicious sideburns making your stomach flip. He doesn’t waste time, kissing you back, his arms around your waist. After a minute, you pull away.

“Sorry. I’m kind of done playing that game of waiting for you to kiss me. I just got the first hit of you I’ve had all week, and I feel fucking amazing.” You confess, and sure, it’s not a big grand love confession with tears and poetry, but your words make him kiss you so intensely that you start backing into your room, his hands exploring your body as you tug off his leather jacket, a new flannel for you to steal coming off soon after.

He keeps kissing you as his hands come down to your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them, before gently pushing you to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, and begins to tug off your boots again, then, on your jeans.

You grin.

“You know, I’m getting the oddest sense of déjà vu. Something about you looking great on your knees.” You tease, and he just tugs off your jeans in one strong swoop, before leaning in to bite your thigh. You gasp, your hands coming up to tug his hair.

Then, he begins to tug at your panties, and you tilt his head up, glancing at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, before I was interrupted, I was about to eat you out.”

“Wait, really?”

He blinks, confused.

“Yeah. Is that a, uh.. problem..?” He hasn’t gotten any complaints yet.

“I just.. I didn’t think guys actually did that, I thought it was just.. a porno thing.” And at this, the man who is about to burry his face between your thighs, laughs. And not just a chuckle, this man hollars. “What’s so funny, claws?” You ask, a little suspicious.

“Nothing,” he promises, “I am just going to take such good care of you, pup.”

“I’m holding you to that, claws.” And then, he leans in and begins to kiss your thighs, gently biting down here and there. Then, he licks a stripe along your cunt, and you let out this loud moan, and your hand comes up to clamp over your mouth, but he reaches up to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

He pulls away to lecture you. Lecture you. On his knees. Head between your thighs.

“Nuh-uh, I wanna hear all the pretty noises you can make for me.” Then, softer, he adds, “Never been eaten out before, fuckin’ travesty.” He mumbles, before leaning in to lick your cunt again, beginning to lap his tongue over your throbbing heat.

His nose rubs against your clit, and it’s enough to drive you genuinely crazy. You’re unsure how you’ve gotten to this point in your life without having your pussy worshipped like this, but with him around, you’re pretty sure you’ll never go another day without it.

His tongue continues to work magic on your cunt, as his nose presses against your clit, stimulating you to the point of making you see stars.

Your hands tug at his hair, and the moan that it elicits from him is enough to send vibrations through your cunt through your stomach. Your head leans back as you moan, and for a moment, you hope there is no mutant in this mansion with super hearing.

His free hand grips your thigh as he bends your leg back to get better access, as he continues to eat you out. The mere taste of you is enough to drive him crazy—He almost wants to start thrusting into the side of your bed, he’s so hard, but he ignores that urge to continue to eat you out.

“Mm—Lo, I—I’m gonna—”

He just hums into your cunt, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze of approval, before his tongue moves even faster (if that’s even possible, though, he is an amazingly surprising man), and suddenly—

You feel a release you have been waiting for weeks, and it is fucking phenomenal. And the Wolverine just licks up all your cum, even if it makes your thighs shake, but honestly, he doesn’t care and neither do you. For a moment, you just listen to the sound of your own pants.

After a minute, you are able to look at him, and he just looks up to you with the same smirk that has been torturing you for all of those weeks. And you just have to pull him up to kiss you, like it’s the only way you’ll be able to live.

As you kiss him, you pull off his wifebeater and then your hands rest on the sides of his face as he pulls off your shirt as well, before his hands begin to make quick work of his belt, wanting to skip all of the pleasantries and just fuck you.

But when he finally gets his jeans off, you pull away, and he stares at you like you’re crazy.

“What the fuck could possibly be more important than me fucking you stupid?”

“Will you just.. let me look at you?” You scoff, your eyes flickering over him to just memorize every square inch of his body. He humors you for a few minutes, standing there with his hands on hips before he leans in and cages you in with his arms.

“Show’s over, spitfire.” He purrs, leaning in to kiss you, slowly making his way closer to you so that you’re laying back on your bed. At some point during the kiss, his boxers come off, and when you feel his cock against your cunt, you moan into the kiss, and you can feel his smirk against your lips.

Oh, you could kill him. But, you suspect maybe he’ll get to you first.

After he kisses you for a few minutes, he pulls away to tell—not ask, tell you, “I’m going to fuck you now.” And you know your line.

“’Kay.” He grins at this and kisses you again, before lining himself up and starting slowly. He just has the tip inside of you, and you begin to moan, your grip on his shoulders tightening. You already feel entirely too full, and he slowly agonizingly slowly pushes into you, and he sees how his size makes your face twitch,

“Shh, shh, I know, pup. Deep breathes for me, bub,” he says softly, such a stark contract to his rough movements, as he bottoms out and has his entire cock inside of you. And he gives you a second, watching as your face relaces, adjusting to the size of him. “Okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“’Kay,” You assure, and he kisses your forehead.

“’Kay.” He responds, and before you can tease him for it, he begins to thrust into you, slowly as first, but he continues to quicken his pace. Your nails begin to scratch on his back, and he lets out this angelic moan—You must’ve died and went to heaven.

As his thrusts quicken, the lines quickly blur between quick ruts and an animalistic need, manifesting itself in the way he fucks you. You know you won’t last long, especially when his fingers find your clit and begin to rub it again.

“Fuck! Oh my god—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, his free hand coming to your thigh to lift your leg up, only for better access to your throbbing cunt, “God, I love the feeling of you around me.. Worth the wait, I promise.” He grumbles, as he thrusts into you, his only goal to make you cum.

You want to respond to that—To tease him, to make him feel as shy as you do, but he has completed his goal of fucking you stupid.

All you can do is respond, “Fuck—I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby, go ahead, cum for me,” he requests softly, leaning in to press a rather jarringly sweet kiss to your lips.

As you cum around his cock, he shudders, the look of you, laying there fucked dumb, is almost too much for him to bear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, pup,” he tells you, and all you can do is moan in response, which makes him come that much closer to the edge. After a few more thrusts, with a euphoric moan that will haunt you forever, his hot cum fills you up, leaving the pair of you clawing at each other, wanting more.

When you’re both finally finished riding out your high, Logan lays next to you, keeping you close. His grip on you is tight—possessive. When you finally find your voice, you ask,

“You’re not gonna turn me into a booty call, are you, claws?”

And he laughs.

“No,” he says, pressing a kiss to your head. “You’re gonna be my best girl, Spitfire.”

“Does this mean I get to steal another of your flannels?”

“I’ll give you my whole fucking wardrobe to see how many times I can make you cum.”

#logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #logan howlett blurb #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine blurb #wolverine smut #xmen smut #deadpool and wolverine #danny speaks to the void

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yamujiburo · 10 months ago

Note

You said you like sharing Team Rocket facts, sooo, what are some of your favourite facts that you don't get to share often or think not many people know? :D

Yam's Top 10 Team Rocket Fun Facts!

Jessie and James are both 25 years old

Jessie and James are NOT siblings (you'd be surprised how many people think they are). They have almost polar opposite backstories from each other.

James grew up rich but ran away from home at a young age because of all the pressure as well as his arranged marriage with Jessebelle (who looks exactly like Jessie funnily enough)

Jessie's mother, referred to as Miyamoto, was also a Team Rocket operative who worked directly under Giovanni's mother Madame Boss. However Miyamoto went MIA while on a mission looking for Mew and never came back, leaving Jessie to grow up in foster care

Jessie and James in English are named after the outlaw Jesse James which most people seem to know about. Buuut in Japanese, they're called Musashi and Kojiro, named after the famous swordsmen Miyamoto Musashi and Sasaki Kojiro. Musashi kills Kojiro so do with that what you will. Sub fun fact: Musashi and Kojiro's duel is referenced in Sun and Moon with Jessie battling Ash and using the sun to temporarily blind him and Pikachu before striking.

The Team Rocket trio are based off of the Time Skeletons from Time Bokan, who are probably the earliest version of the very specific trope "san-aku" (literally translated to three evil). The trope usually depicts one female leader and two bumbling men, one short and one tall. They also regularly build mechs/robots and beef with kids. In Sun in Moon, they DIRECTLY reference the Time Skeletons!

When the Johto series came to an end a decision had to be made on whether Misty or Team Rocket would leave the series. Head writer Takeshi Shudo fought really hard to keep Team Rocket (I think it's safe to say that they were his favorite characters). Seeing how Team Rocket stayed in the series till the very end, I think it's obvious to see what the end result of that decision was

The reason Jessie, in later seasons of Pokémon doesn't smack around James and Meowth as much/at all is because her voice actress, Megumi Hayashibara personally requested that the writers make her less violent. She felt it went against the "good natured villain" concept Takeshi Shudo originally had for them. On Hayashibara, Jessie's "failed nurse" backstory is based on Hayashibara's experience in trying to become a nurse.

James' love for sports and racing is often depicted in the show and is a reference to his VA, Shinichiro Miki's, love for cars and racing.

The reason Team Rocket crossdresses is literally just because the artists thought James looked better in a dress than Jessie did and ran with it

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linderosse · 6 months ago

Text

✨ Wisdomverse x Smash ✨

< Prev | 15 | Next >

Masterpost

It’s time.

I finally get to talk about Smash and the Zeldas :).

How this wacky little fighting game series represents the LoZ gals and influences them in Wisdomverse— explained under the cut!

Exactly four Zeldas make an appearance as playable characters in the Smash Brothers franchise, spanning different games and decades.

[OoT] Lullaby: Melee (Zelda and Sheik), Smash4 (Sheik), Ultimate (Sheik)

[TP] Dusk: Brawl (Zelda and also Sheik somehow), Smash4

[ALttP/ALBW] Fable: Ultimate

[ST] Phantom (a special case): Smash4, Ultimate

Funnily enough, there have also been four Links in Smash, although they’re not quite from the same games as the Zeldas.

[OoT/MM] Time: SSB64 (Adult), Melee (Adult and Young), Brawl (Young), Ultimate (Young)

[TP] Twilight: Brawl, Smash4

[BotW/TotK] Wild: Ultimate

[WW/PH] Wind: Brawl, Smash4, Ultimate

Now, Smash is just about as non-canon a game as Hyrule Warriors— and we all accept Wars and Artemis. And some Zeldas arguably have more of a chance to display their skills in Smash than in their own games.

Therefore, I’ve peripherally incorporated Smash into Wisdomverse:

Characters who have met each other in Smash will sometimes recognize each other from there, as if they’ve met in a vague dream. They may also forget. Such is the ephemeral world of Smash to its players.

To keep things fair, Smash connections and story will not be relevant to the plot of Wisdomverse.

Each mainline Smash Zelda also gets one of the three Golden Goddess skills from their Smash moveset to use in Wisdomverse, based on their personality and events from their actual games.

Charismatic, dramatic Fable gets to blow things up with Din’s Fire — like how Fable and the sages blast through Ganon’s barrier in ALttP

Steady, calculating Dusk gets to defend against attacks with Nayru’s Love — reminiscent of the twilight pyramid encasing her in Hyrule Castle in Twilight Princess

Quiet, stealthy Lullaby gets to teleport short distances with Farore’s Wind — like how Sheik (technically Requiem, not Lullaby) vanishes ninja-style in Ocarina of Time

And there you have it! Rebalancing the Zeldas, one skillset at a time :).

Extra:

For the truly dedicated folks, here’s a further analysis of interesting (and intentional on the part of the devs) Smash x Zelda facts:

Despite clearly looking like Dusk and not Lullaby, Brawl Zelda is able to turn into Sheik in both the plot of Subspace Emissary and in battle in Brawl. She loses this ability and goes back to normal in Smash4.

Despite clearly looking like Twilight, Brawl Link is shown with Navi in Subspace Emissary.

Wind is clearly Wind, and not Spirit, because he has the Wind Waker as a taunt in all three Smash games he shows up in.

Wind uses some of Legend’s attacks. And some of Time’s attacks. Wind is a dirty rotten move stealer (affectionate).

Phantom isn’t technically playable, but both Fable and Dusk summon a phantom to fight alongside them, and neither of them have seen a phantom in any of their games. Also, while their phantom summoning skill is recharging, they have a purple glow around their hand. Therefore, I’m inclined to believe they’re literally summoning Spirit Tracks Zelda (Phantom), like Robin summoning Chrom for his Final Smash, and you technically control her, so close enough.

In Melee, Young Link is clearly from MM, while Link is from OoT. This means Young Link is older than Link (just Time things).

#lin draws #super smash bros #zelda #wisdomverse #linked universe #loz #wielders of wisdom #lin thinks #lu time #lu twilight #lu wind #lu wild #wis fable #wis phantom #wis lullaby #wis dusk #lu wielders of wisdom #lu wisdomverse

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two-white-butterflies · 5 months ago

Text

★ — imgonnagetyouback | max verstappen

Description: Max ends the relationship with a phone-call.

Pairing: actress!reader/max verstappen

Disclaimer: Everything written in this fanfic holds no truth about anyone's personality or actions. It is made purely for entertainment.

A/N: everything i do used to be inspired by the 2014 ver. grimes. reader is unhinged as her, but gets development in the end!! THIS IS AN ODE TO THE "MONSTER" TITLED FIC I READ ABOUT LEE PACE.

"Let's break up."

Let's break up.

You could still hear the aftertaste of his voice on your ears. How nonchalant he sounded while denying a relationship of seven years. Why was he quick to leave? Did he find someone else?

You sniffled, wiping your snot with a tissue on your right.

I'm gonna get revenge.

yourname: me, the dogs and @edmundquandt

liked by 728,391 others

>comments

maxversworldargentina: huh isn't she dating max? did u break up?

reversethismess: Who is he?

victoriaverstappen: ❤️

Y/N L/N AND FORMULA ONE DRIVER, MAX VERSTAPPEN CONFIRM THEIR BREAKUP.

Yesterday UMG Inc. Agency released a statement to SSN confirming the breakup between Y/N L/N and her Formula One boyfriend.

The pair began to date each other in 2017, where Verstappen was accepted into Toro Rosso and Redbull Racing. They have been together for 7 years and have been dubbed as the most iconic couple in the Formula One paddocks.

Rumors between the two splitting emerged late March, however the couple affirmed that they were still dating each other. On December, however the netizens were greeted with radio silence.

According to L/N's team: the breakup was mutually agreed upon, as they grew apart from all the travelling required for their job.

>comments

grills93: I can't make it go away by making you a villain, I guess it's the price I pay for seven years in heaven.

lnworld: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO AND HER NEW INSTA POST WITH EDMUND???? NOOOOOOO

carshfo: she defo cheated with edmund bcs no way lol

Max's pulse was racing at the sight of you around another man's arms. Seeing your arms wrapped around his shoulders, leaning into him for balance as you laughed at a joke that wasn't funny at all. "- and then we found out that there wasn't a building in the hotel with those rooms." Edmund finished his joke.

By that time, you were already laughing uncontrollably.

Max clenched his jaw.

A piece of his heart regretted breaking up with you.

"Control yourself mate, he's a big investor." Yuri reminds.

Max didn't give a flying fuck. He didn't own any Redbull stocks. He's a good driver, this Edmund Quandt has nothing on him. His features only soften once he remembered the reason why he broke up with you. He wanted to focus more on his career. He wanted to test the pond for more fish.

He needed upgrades on his car.

Fuck.

He needed to chafe his knees for this guy.

"Funnily enough, when I was in Texas I had a similar encounter. I knew exactly what to do." Edmund placed a hand on the small of your back. Max prevents his eyelids from twitching.

Charles smiles, showing the crowd his dimpled cheeks. Charles always had the ability to charm other people. He was perfect, and now he's friends with Mr. Quandt whom he only met.

"I'm sorry for asking this Edmund, but are you two...?" Charles paused, allowing the other man to fill in the blanks. Edmund smiles - pearly white teeth and a godly physique.

Max doesn't fail to observe the glance that Edmund gives you, a look that asked for your permission.

"We're dating each other, for a month now - but we're still testing the waters." you chuckled, ignoring the presence of your ex-boyfriend despite his figure melancholily staring at you.

"I just want to put a ring on her." Edmund admits.

The other people fade into the background.

"My father always says, give her a ring with a big diamond so she won't be able to see how much of a monster you are." he teased.

"You're not a monster." your eyebrows merged into each other.

Max wanted to punch the air.

yournamepriv: i love this big baby 🥺 @e123456

liked by 92

>comments

haileybeiber: i love this for u omgg

sophierichiegrange: So cute ❤️🥺

e123456: You got my good side! - yournamepriv: Ur good side is 360 degs

Max takes a deep breath. Again.

You forgot to remove him as a mutual in your private account. And he was greeted by a picture of you kissing Edmund Quandt. His mind raced through a million different thoughts. Regret, anger, resentment - but they were mostly filled of regret.

He didn't appreciate what he got, and now it's gone.

maxandynfanbase: do you get deja vu? 😭

liked by lewishamilton and 72,192 others

>comments

mercyplease9: EDMUND IS SO TALL??

ohnoaosd9: lewis we can see u 💀

holyhell1: i like pic 2 more

yourname: visited some mangrove swamps with this big baby. 🥺your integrity makes me seem small... #savethemangroves tagged: edmundquandt

liked by maxverstappen, lewishamilton and 1,283,923 others

taylorswift: You and Edmund have the KINDEST heart. - yourname: thanks taytay i wanna see u and trav here next time - taylorswift: Will do! I'll tell you when my schedule clears up. - yourname: love u ❤️

haileybeiber: We love a momma who cares

sophierichiegrange: <3

"I can't believe she's out there helping the fucking mangroves." Max places his phone on the couch.

He couldn't believe your sudden change in tune, that drastic of a change to come from someone like you? "She used to complain being in the EU because it meant not using plastic straws." he breathed, still choosing to believe that you were like him.

Still the same crazy. Still the same stupid.

"She's really being fake for him." he shook his head.

yourname: i totes know how to play 🎾 this friday we're having an event for all the young racecar drivers that unfortunately can't afford to pursue the sport. all proceeds will go to @bmwfoundationsports and the @grandprixtrust !!

liked by edmundquandt and 1,283,912 others

>comments

edmundquandt: ❤️

CharlesLeclerc: Will be in attendance. 🫡

oracleredbullracing: We love a Queen with a good heart

maxverstappenupdates: Max Verstappen in @bmwfoundationsports and @grandprixtrust.

liked by kellypiquet and 23,392 others

>comments

youalloverme: HE LOOKS SO SAD...

maxismybf: Hadnsumm

posyposie: wondering if a dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life

He takes another sip of his whiskey, forgetting about the cameras that snapped his figure left and right. There were a million things he wanted to say to you, but he wanted to start with a question.

"I never imagined seeing you change yourself for a guy." he scoffed.

You turned around with your eyebrows raised. Flabbergasted at his insinuation. "Change myself?" you repeated the word, finding it to be hilarious on his tongue.

"The whole save the earth, save the kids thing - you don't care about that. I understand though, money is money and your boyfriend has a lot of that." Max allowed the alcohol to speak in his behalf.

"You don't have the right to talk about me or my integrity. You abandoned me, remember?" you argued, feeling anger pulse through your veins.

Since he left, you tried to make yourself better.

"When I was with you, we were both horrible people. Quite literally the rich people cliche that we promised not to become. I guess you were right, we weren't growing together - and now I've become a better person without you - all because of Edmund." you gritted your teeth, grabbing the champagne on the table before the media realized that the 'ex-lovers' were talking to each other.

(PRE-EDMUND QUANDT.)

I'm gonna get revenge.

That night you planned to ruin his chance at winning by exposing a flaw in the car that would allow the other drivers to overtake him. A button outside of the car - with the engineers that could remotely turn off a key engine that allowed his car to move faster.

He told you about it because driving at that speed endangers his life, and if you were the only one in the administration panel that knew about it - he made it your duty to push that button.

You grabbed your laptop, sneaking inside the garage. "What are you doing?" a voice emerged from behind you, and you momentarily stopped with the program.

You turned around - only to be greeted with your ex-boyfriend, Edmund Quandt. A man that your parents adored. A man whom everyone thought was going to become your husband, and he was here - behind you. Looking at you.

"Just grabbing my things, I won't be here anymore." you lied. Despite your obvious lie, he chose to give you the benefit of the doubt. He always kinda chose to see the better side of a person, rather than thinking the worst of them first.

"Oh why is that?" he asked with a smile. "Because of things..." you evaded the question - not wanting to rant about your other ex-boyfriend that broke up with you because of a phone call.

"Are you done with grabbing your things?" his eyes narrowed.

"Oh yeah." you breathed.

You had to evade your plan of revenge.

"Do you want to grab some coffee?" he offered.

"Of course."

Max Verstappen I'm really sorry for doing that. Must be all the Whiskey I drank 😅

Y/N L/N Drunk actions are sober thoughts, Max

Max Verstappen I still shouldn't have confronted you It's just really weird seeing you post things like save the turtles, donate to the kids we never gave a fuck about those 😆

Y/N L/N Yeah, I didn't care about them But now I do We used to be the same but now we aren't

Max Verstappen ?

Y/N L/N You broke up with me because you wanted to focus on your career Because all you care about is money and success We both got stuck on that We didn't see the value in other things When we broke up, Edmund brought me back to earth Opened my eyes to the privilege we've been granted

Y/N L/N Take this as a warning Max The high life isn't gonna last forever

*blocked*

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delta-orionis · 8 months ago

Text

Currently losing my mind a little bit trying to find an alternate name for the Recursive Transform Array/Abstract Convergence Manifold regions in Five Pebbles/Looks to the Moon respectively. I think both names mean roughly the same thing.

(Left: Coils in the Recursive Transform Array, Right: Coils in the Abstract Convergence Manifold)

(Theorizing under the cut)

Both regions contain sets of large transformers (or inductors, they both look like coils) arranged into different groups. I assume the function of this region is to receive power from an iterator's power source (how iterators get their power isn't exactly clear- but at least in Pebbles' case it probably comes from the Linear Systems Rail) and step up or down the voltage so it can be distributed to the different electronic components of an iterator's superstructure as needed.

Stepping up/down voltage is the function of a transformer, which is where I assume the "transform" part of "Recursive Transform Array" comes from. In Moon's case, "abstract" in "Abstract Convergence Manifold" is a synonym for "transform" or "change", one thing is being abstracted, or changed into something else.

"Recursive" means "repeating" (and "repeat" is a synonym of "iterate", funnily enough), so this part probably refers to the multiple similar transformers found in the Recursive Transform Array.

In terms of the Abstract Convergence Manifold, either "convergence" or "manifold" could correspond to the "multiple similar things" meaning. The objects in question are "converging", coming together, or being similar.

"Manifold" is a bit trickier, the general definition means "variety" or "many", but the word has other uses. In typography, it can refer to the process of making copies of a document (via a carbon copy), and in engineering it can refer to a component that distributes gas or liquid to different parts of a system. So in this case, I'm going to assume that "manifold" means "copies" and/or "distribution". This makes sense if the Abstract Convergence Manifold distributes power (or maybe even Void Fluid) to different parts of Moon's structure.

And finally, "array" in "Recursive Transform Array" means a group of things arranged in a pattern. This is also probably what "manifold" in "Abstract Convergence Manifold" means; a group of copies of things.

Based on this, both names basically mean "group of similar/repeating things that change". This might not just refer to the groups of transformer coils, but also to the big square structures that both Pebbles and Moon have in these regions:

(These rooms are very dark, I'm only showing Pebbles' here because it's better lit than Moon's.)

This thing looks like a big computer chip, maybe a Central Processing Unit (CPU). I theorize that this room is where the majority of an iterator's processing takes place; where the actual iteration (in terms of computing: repeating a process) happens. So the things that are repeating and changed could be the actual iterative processes (simulations, thoughts, calculations) are carried out, altered slightly, and repeated again.

(Side tangent: I've always wondered what Pebbles was referring to when he mentioned his "processing strata". It might be layers of processors located in his Recursive Transform Array, possibly in the same big room as the square thing. Personally I think the processing strata are the little blinking lights you can see in the background of this room, but I could be wrong. If anyone actually knows the answer please let me know.)

TL,DR: If you have an iterator OC and you want to give their internal regions names but you don't want to simply copy existing ones, I'm pretty sure the naming convention for the transformer arrays uses synonyms for (similar/repeating) (change) (group). For example, "Sequential Flux Assemblage", "Parallel Modification Cluster". These sound silly, but basically everything iterator-related is silly technobabble, so I think the moral is to have fun with it.

Thank you for reading, and let me know if you have any ideas. I enjoy talking to people about random Rain World theories.

#this is another theory spiral I fell down while trying to flesh out OC lore. enjoy #rain world #iterators #rain world iterator #rw iterator #personal #rain world theory #delta's lore corner

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eoieopda · 1 year ago

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sweatshirt season | ksy

your fuck buddy is good at a lot of things. taking hints isn’t one of them.

pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader type: one-shot / fluff + smut rating: 18+ (minors do not have my consent to interact) au: one-night-stand to fuck buddies to ? wc: 4.5k cw: gn! and afab!reader (no pronouns used); time skips; protected penetrative sex (p in v); hoshi is kinda a himbo, lmao; ft. cameo by minghao and roomate!gn!sibling OC; reference to the movie they're watching, which is hereditary (brief mention of decapitation + demonic possession); barely proofread, sorry! a/n: this is based on a headcanon i did a while ago! i've been in such a horrible rut re: writing for the past month and a half, so it was a major struggle to write this because i feel like i don't know how to do that anymore 😵‍💫 i'm hoping that himbo hoshi can save me from this hell. also, this is told in vignettes!

[APRIL]

“Babe?”

The voice from nowhere is barely loud enough to drag you from sleep, but the effect it has on you is far from soft. Those consonants dig in where your dehydrated brain shrinks away from your skull, pressing in so hard that they throb.

Bleary-eyed, you blink as rapidly as you can to adjust to the bright, white light beaming in through your open shades. The sound that escapes you is something akin to a hiss; it gets the point across, nonetheless. You sit up just enough to see the figure standing in front of your window, looming overhead with crossed arms, laughing.

Clearly, your roommate doesn’t give a shit or a fuck about your hangover.

“What’s the deal with the stray you brought home last night?” Mei asks, the corners of their mouth tilting wickedly.

You don’t have the brain power for this conversation, so you respond with a groan and bury your face back in the pillow from whence it came. Never one to give up, Mei drops down on top of you so that the full weight of their body rests against yours.

“C’mon,” they urge. “Spill your guts, chingu.”

Funnily enough, if they don’t get off your guts, you might do exactly that.

Your reply comes in the form of a croak, some pathetic little sound that reads as lifeless as you feel. “Why do you care?”

There isn’t a single reason you can think of for their sudden interest in your bad decisions. You’ve been making them left and right for the past few months without much more than a concerned glance, and until now, you didn’t realize that you’d taken the lack of follow-up questions for granted.

What a fucking travesty it is to be perceived.

“Your business is your business.” Mei shrugs. You quirk an eyebrow, ready to jump in and point out their lapse in logic, but then that smirk comes back. “But your business is currently burning eggs in our kitchen, which makes it my business, too.”

Sitting up quickly, the force of your sudden moves nearly knock Mei to the ground. Beyond horrified, you squeak, “He’s still here?”

Faster than you’ve ever moved before, you clamber out from underneath your roommate and crawl to the edge of your bed, kicking wildly at your blankets until your legs are free.

You’re already up and swaying on your feet, panting from the effort, when you finally think to look down and assess the state of yourself. Thankfully, you’d remembered to dress yourself before falling asleep. You glance upward and salute whatever deity was looking out for you, ignore the look on Mei’s face entirely, and dash out of your bedroom.

As soon as you reach the kitchen, you skid to a stop, socks sliding across the hardwood until your hip bone collides with the corner of the kitchen island. You hiss again, far louder than the last time. The shape standing at your stove turns around wide-eyed; his mouth is frozen in the shape of an “o”.

Just as quick, recognition flashes, and the shock wears off.

“Good morning,” he chirps, and he’s all fucking sunshine.

You blink back at him without a single idea of where to start — with the fact that he’s still here after you could’ve sworn he left, that he’s wearing your apron but has no clear grasp on the simple act of frying eggs, or that you cannot for the life of you remember his name.

Fuck.

You should really start keeping a guest book.

Whatever his name is, he’s witnessing you at your worst — certifiably crusty with your standard bad attitude — and that alone makes you want to wither and die, right on the spot. Unbothered by your ghoulish appearance, he gestures to the kitchen island you just collided with, pointing to a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

Items he would’ve had to open two (2) separate cabinets to find.

In the kitchen he shouldn’t even be in.

You open your mouth, primed to explode all over him, but the way he’s looking at you disarms you immediately. His expression is so chipper — so friendly and childlike in its innocence — that you swallow down the shit you’d readily hurl at anyone else. You gulp, and without saying a word in acknowledgement, you grab what he’s laid out for you.

He smiles when you choke down the aspirin, then turns back around to pull the scrambled, half-burnt mess off the burner.

“You must have a pretty low alcohol tolerance if you’re this hungover after three drinks,” he muses.

It’s an accurate observation — a harmless one, too — but you did not ask. Once again, he shoots you a smile that prevents you from snapping at him. Instead, you set the now-empty glass back down on the island and stare vacantly over at him.

Seonghwa?

“You’re still here,” you say flatly. You may be stating the obvious, but that fact speaks for itself. “You’re still here, and you’re also in my kitchen.”

Seokjin, maybe?

He smiles at this, either unaware that he’s violated the unwritten one-night-stand code of conduct or unfazed by his own rule breaking. Rubbing the back of his neck, he laughs awkwardly, “It was the least I could do, you know? After all you —”

What the fuck is your name?

“Sungwoo!” You cut him off with a gasp and a palm raised, all but begging him not to recount what he’s grateful for within earshot of your roommate. “Really, you don’t need to do this. Any of this.”

He corrects you gently, “It’s Soonyoung.”

Then, without even a hint of offense taken, he nods his head towards one of the stools tucked under the counter of the island. Your eyes flit between his hopeful face and the seat, frozen solid with indecision.

You see two options, and both feel like a trap:

Holding the line risks squashing this clueless boy’s marshmallow heart; and you don’t want to be the gash that ruins his day at the very outset. If you feed the stray — rather, if you let the stray feed you — then you’re an enabler, contracting a residency when the show was supposed to be one-night-only.

More perceptive than you’ve given him credit for so far, he senses the conflict inside your skull and attempts to tip the scale with a bread-cheeked smile and a shoulder wiggle. “Your breakfast is getting cold,” he nudges in a soft, sing-song tone.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Begrudgingly, you dump yourself onto a stool without a word. With your elbows now propped up on the countertop, you drop your chin down to rest on the heels of your hands. More than anything, you try like hell to ignore the way it all makes his face light up.

“I don’t understand how you went from demonically hot to…” Your voice trails off as you try to find a word for whatever this is. A beat passes before you give up, waving dismissively. “Domesticated, or whatever.”

And his cheeks go pink.

“You think I’m hot?” He all but gasps, like this is brand new information to him.

Like you would’ve brought him home from the club if he wasn’t — and goddamn, was he ever. Carrying himself with the kind of confidence that made your knees wobble; saying all the right things in a low, smoky tone with his lips at your ear; moving his body in ways that still fluster you to think about.

And yet, here he is.

Adorable, if not completely obtuse.

After grabbing plates from a nearby cabinet, he snags two pairs of chopsticks out of the drawer to the left of the sink. It takes all you’ve got not to roll your eyes. He shouldn’t know where either of those things are, but he does.

A satisfied sigh slips out of his mouth when he takes the seat next to yours and scoots a plate full of eggs and kimchi in front of you.

“Here you go,” he sings as he holds out a pair of your own chopsticks to you.

He’s beaming when you accept them into your hand, and it leaves you with no choice but to take a bite of the food in front of you. Intently and chronically hopeful, he watches you pluck a piece of scrambled egg from the plate, like the trajectory of his life hinges on your approval. There’s no turning back now. Reluctantly, you pop it into your mouth.

While you chew, he leans in a bit closer. From this distance, you can see your own reflection in his irises; there are tiny flecks of honey brown amidst the dark, you realize. Little details you didn’t notice last night when he was much, much closer — like the heart-shaped curve his upper lip takes when he smiles as big as he is now.

“How is it?” He asks, walking the borderline between eager and unbearably shy.

You swallow hard as you snap back to attention. If letting him stay for breakfast was a bad call, getting caught gawking at him is a flagrant foul. Somehow, you need to get the point across without being too cruel; to remind him that you signed up for the night and not the morning.

“Um. Well,” you start with a grimace, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Are eggs supposed to… crunch?”

[JUNE]

“Oh, fuck, just like that —”

Your back arches off the bed as you grip uselessly at sweat-drenched sheets. Between your spread thighs, Soonyoung and the punishing pace he’s set make quick work of pulling you apart, again. His right arm loops under your left leg to anchor you to him while his left palm presses down on your lower abdomen, making damn sure that every thrust drags over your g-spot.

This — this right here — is why you keep calling him back. He may overstay his welcome, but that’s an occupational hazard. His perpetual presence is a risk you’re willing to take, so long as he fucks you like this.

“Shit. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?”

He’s panting as he says it, which surprises the hell out of you. His stamina is unearthly, and when you manage to keep your eyes open long enough to look up at him, you don’t see any hint of effort. It's just the ragged sound of his breathing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“I think this might be a new personal record.”

Unfortunately, his little announcement is genuine. He’s merely stating a fact, not trying to tease you, because his only concern outside of making you cum is outdoing himself.

To Soonyoung, sex is a performance he’s trying to perfect. He approaches it like an Olympian — an athlete or a god? — and the bar he sets for himself raises every time you see him.

You find it the tiniest bit endearing how focused he is on self-improvement.

Kind of.

That doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes, though.

“Not if you keep —” A moan that you didn’t mean to let out cuts your sentence in half. “— talking.”

Your head crashes back against the pillows, which only spurs him on. Deeper, more deliberate strokes leave you writhing underneath him, babbling like a fool. He grins so wide that his eyes almost disappear.

“I’m just saying…” Another thrust, a thousand more stars dotting the periphery of your vision. “If you hit five, you owe me dinner.”

There it is, right on cue: another piece of evidence to prove that Soonyoung still doesn’t know what he signed up for.

It’s a conversation you’ve had more than once — never because you want to have it; and never because he seems to be consciously seeking something more than what you have.

At some point over the past few months of scattered nights with you, a seed seems to have taken root in the back of his brain. A zombie parasite, more likely; one that’s overridden the controls and completely undermined his understanding of the situation.

Whether he means it or not, these throw-away comments make you wonder if, deep down, he’s not wired to fuck without feelings.

Not like you, anyway.

Your self-preservation instincts don’t let you get that far. Risk-averse to your core, you don’t see the point of gambling when the stakes are that high. And even if you weren’t wary of getting yourself hurt, it wouldn’t change the fundamental truth that you enjoy your own company enough not to need anyone else’s.

The way you see it, Soonyoung can have a cameo in your weekends, but the plot of your life right now doesn’t need anything more than that. Changing the lineup now could fuck your whole season. So, why try?

To his credit, he seems to get that there are currently more pressing matters at hand than the same old conversation. He pats your hip and says, “Let’s switch it up.”

You’re as grateful for the subject change as you are for the hand he extends to help your boneless body sit up again. Thankfully, the one lesson he has learned is that no one can compete with his perpetually full battery. If he’s going to change positions as often as he wants to, he has to be the one to position you.

This time, you wind up with your back flush against his chest, skin slick against yours. To keep him close, you reach back until your hand finds the nape of his neck. After weaving your fingers through the damp hair at the base of his head, you tug slightly, pulling a low groan out of him.

“Fuck, yeah,” he grunts breathlessly. “Pull my hair.”

You do as he says, albeit a bit harder than you meant to; you can’t help it. That’s the exact moment he chooses to grab your hips and slam your ass back against his pelvis, perfectly in time with his forward snap. He’s in your guts now, there’s no doubt about it, and you’re falling to pieces.

Wailing, you have to squeeze your eyes shut to survive the surge of pleasure coursing through you. “Oh, my god,” you choke out.

The only way you manage to stay upright through your orgasm is with Soonyoung’s arms caging you in. Without him, you’d be a trembling fucking mess, collapsing face-down onto your bed in a useless heap. He keeps holding you even when he lets himself go soon after, spilling into the condom with a moan you feel as it leaves his chest.

“Goddamn,” he sighs, voice rough. The heat of his breath on your neck almost makes you want to cling to him, curl up and let your eyes flutter shut. “Every time I fuck you, I feel like I should thank you.”

That flicker of affection goes out in a flash as the memory of consequences comes back around. You snort. “Please don’t cook for me again.”

You leave it at that, and so does he. When he finally pulls out of you, you give into the safer urge; the one that can’t possible give him the wrong impression. Slumping forward, you hit the mattress so hard that you practically bounce, like the dead weight you are.

Soonyoung misses that spectacle, thankfully. He’s already on his feet, tying off the condom before dropping it into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. You hear it drop against the plastic bag, then the soft pad of his footsteps as he makes his way back to you. You unbury your face from the pillows and crane your neck to look over at him.

In a rare display, he looks exhausted. Moments like this might be the only time he ever finds himself depleted, and you figure he’s earned that right. Part of you wants to let him lay here with you — maybe even let him sleep it off — but you can’t let him get tangled in the strings you refuse to attach.

He’s halfway to you when he finally looks up at you and catches you watching him. You’re not sure what he sees in your expression; you’d bet it’s as confusing on the outside as it feels on the inside. Whatever he finds there, it makes him pause. There's a quick nod, like he’s reacting to something neither one of you has said out loud, then he changes course.

“You have to be up early,” he says, like he’s finally learned the script. “I’m gonna head out.”

You nod but say nothing else. You just watch as Soonyoung grabs the clothes you’d tugged off of him earlier, piece by piece, and puts everything back to the way it was before.

The way you want it.

Once he’s fully clothed, he shoots you a smile that only uses half of his mouth. Neither of you offers a word as he walks over to the door, although you can tell he’s moving more slowly than usual. Hoping you’ll stop him, maybe.

You don’t.

It’s not until he pulls it open that he looks back over his shoulder at you; and this time, when he smiles, it looks like he means it.

“Sleep well, yeah?”

[OCTOBER]

“I’m just saying that if her shithead brother bothered to include her in his night, maybe she wouldn’t have been decapitated."

You tear your eyes off the television screen in time to see Minghao’s eyes roll all the way back into his head. Across the coffee table from where you sit, he and Mei occupy the couch; his head crashes against the back of it with a muffled thump while his younger sibling continues their rant.

“I’m being for real,” Mei urges, jabbing their finger emphatically through the air in his direction. “If you ever bail on me like that, and my head ends up falling off, you deserve whatever consequences come next.”

You snort. “Up to and including… what, demonic possession?”

“Absolutely,” Mei sniffs.

Minghao sits upright again slowly. He chews thoughtfully on his lower lip, leaving you and your roommate in suspense. Knowing him, he’ll lecture you both on karmic energy and how Mei shouldn’t fuck around with it. To both of your surprise, he frowns. “Is it bad that I kind of want cake now?”

You and Mei respond at the same time, although your responses are nothing alike:

“I think we have some left over.”

“Yes, you’re a monster.”

Despite what they just called him, Mei is nothing if not a good host. With a beleaguered huff, they push themselves off the couch, step carefully over the legs Minghao doesn’t move out of their path, and stalks off towards the kitchen to forage for food.

Left alone in the living room, you and Minghao fall into an easy silence, eyes glued once again to the screen. It’s always been easier to get through a movie without Mei’s commentary; this one would’ve been finished an hour ago if they hadn’t kept pausing it to ramble. You’re so immersed in it that you hardly hear the way they’re tearing through the kitchen like a cyclone. You almost miss the soft knock at the door, too.

Immediately, your optimistic eyes flick over to Minghao. He’s closer to the door, and if you stare at him long enough, he might let you stay in the armchair you’ve all but fused to.

“Nope,” he says coolly, without even looking.

Whining, you peel off the blanket you’ve wrapped yourself in and unfurl your knotted legs. You shiver when your bare feet touch the cold wood below, but bravely, you don’t retreat. You push forward on tiptoe and skip across the living room until you reach the front door.

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead when you open it to find Soonyoung standing there for the first time in several weeks. While overstaying his welcome is his signature, showing up uninvited never has been. That’s apparently one line in the sand he won’t stumble over.

“Hey,” you peep.

For reasons unknown, you have to pause to let your gaze sweep over him, like something might’ve drastically changed about him since you saw him last. There’s a tiny flutter in the center of your chest that begs you to greet him more emphatically than that, but you ignore it.

Soonyoung looks more apologetic than you’ve ever seen him, which makes your pulse quicken even more.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” he swears. “I think I left my headphones here last time. I’ve looked everywhere, I promise, but they’re just — gone.”

Your first instinct is to ask why he brought headphones to a dick appointment in the first place, but you talk yourself out of it. The next is to find out why he came all the way over here on a hunch, rather than simply texting you; he hasn’t in a while, not that you’ve taken it to heart. But you don’t do that, either, which strikes you as odd.

Instead, you step back and push the door open wider, once again letting the stray inside. “No worries,” you breeze.

Since when?

As it turns out, letting him in doesn’t bring the sky crashing down around you. Taking a single brick out of the wall you’ve fastidiously built doesn’t bring about the end of days. It just brings a shy bow and a quiet “thank you” while he toes off his shoes.

He turns to head toward your bedroom with you following behind him, but he stops short after a few steps. Crashing into his back — god, he’s broader than he looks — you grab his biceps to keep from bowling him over entirely.

“Shit — I’m so sorry.” He wheels around, failing to realize that you’re as close as you are. You can see panic light up his eyes, now mere centimeters from yours. “I didn’t realize you had somebody over.”

What is that scribbled all over his face?

It’s not anger, you know that much. Nothing about the way he’s looking at you reads like jealousy, either. If anything, he seems genuinely torn-up over what he assumes is date-crashing. Guilty, maybe.

So, why do you feel bad?

“Mei’s brother,” you explain quickly, as if he’s owed one. “Our annual horror movie marathon. We — all of us — do it every October.”

Why did you add that qualifier in there?

Soonyoung’s face brightens immediately, and you feel the tiniest bit warmer now that the corners of his mouth aren’t curved downward anymore. You wish that surprised you, but it doesn’t.

Why should it? You’ve given into him more often than not, haven’t you?

All he says is, “Oh,” in the tiniest voice you’ve ever heard, like he’s embarrassed himself for the first time in his life.

It grows quiet while the two of you continue to stand there in the half-light. If you discount the screaming, the flickering colors coming from the television screen make it feel almost — cozy?

But you’ve been gazing up at him for far too long, so you clear your throat. “Your — umm — your headphones. Do you remember where you left them?”

You nudge him slightly to get him moving, which he does without complaint.

“I think they jumped out of my pocket when you…” Soonyoung’s voice trails off. As you pass by, he glances over at Minghao, who either can’t hear your conversation or doesn’t give a shit about it.

With that indifference confirmed, Soonyoung looks back at you with a smirk. “You broke my zipper, you know. I had to take those jeans to a tailor to fix it.”

Immediately, your cheeks start burning.

Resident fuck monster, reporting for duty! Here to rip clothes to shreds and —

He touches your wrist, just for a second. “It’s cute,” he assures you, even though you haven’t said a word.

And it doesn’t do a damn thing to keep that heat from rising up your face.

You step into your bedroom before you can think of what to say in response, so you let the moment pass and flick on the light. Just as soon as he joins you inside, Soonyoung lays eyes on what he came for — which is a miracle. That thin, white cord is practically invisible under your dresser.

“Ah!” He chirps, bending down to grab it.

Looking triumphant as hell, he tucks it into the pocket of his joggers and shoots you a grin. Suddenly, you find it hard to mimic his smile, although you don’t know why.

He got what he came for, didn’t he? He’ll be out of your hair in a matter of moments, which is exactly what you’ve been demanding of him for months. You had to train him to get in and get out, and when he eventually learned, the relief was immediate.

So, why don’t you feel relieved now?

Soonyoung must hear your trains of thought derailing because he comes in hot with a distraction. As usual, it’s out of left field, just like the soft brush of his fingers on your bare arm.

“You’re cold.”

It’s not a question.

There aren’t even goosebumps on your arm; and there’s no reason why he should know by looking at you that you are, in fact, freezing. But he does, and before you can ask how the fuck that’s possible, he spins around to the dresser nearby and grabs the handle jutting out of the bottom-left drawer.

How does he —?

You open your mouth to speak. The words disappear when he stands upright again, now holding out a sweatshirt from the drawer you keep them in. He’s only seen you open it once before, and the fact that he remembers is making you dizzy.

Soonyoung’s expectant eyes lock on your face, looking at you the same way he did when he handed you those burnt fucking eggs. This time, though, you don’t hesitate to accept what he’s giving you. You tug that sweatshirt over your head without missing a beat, instantly learning that it’s much bigger on you than you remember.

Stunned, you blink back at him from underneath the hood, which obscures most of your forehead. “Is this —?”

You grab the fabric from the front of it in your hands as you look down. At first glance, it looks like the million other white sweatshirts tucked into your drawer, but —

“This isn’t mine.”

Your eyes flick back up to Soonyoung, who’s fighting for his life to bite back a smile.

Six months ago, you might’ve knocked him on his ass for this, but now, you can’t keep it together, either. You crack wide open, laughing so hard that your eyes almost disappear.

“When the hell did you sneak that in there?” You wheeze, wiping tears as they spill over your lash line. The smack you land against his arm is cloaked in a sweater paw, dealing no damage except to crack him open, too. “God, I was never going to get rid of you, was I?”

Beaming, he slips his hands into the kangaroo pocket on the front and tugs you closer; you let him. “It was just in case I get cold, I swear.”

“Is that it?” You narrow your eyes playfully. “Are you sure?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, although you don’t believe him for a second. “It does look good on you, though. Maybe you should hang on to it.”

“To the sweatshirt?”

Watching him blush like that may never get old. Still, he maintains his bluff and nods.

“Yeah. I mean, why not? Right? It’s comfortable.” He shrugs, not even the slightest bit casually. “A cotton blend, I think. Pre-shrunk, so… It’ll — uh, never be your size, I guess. That’s — um — that’s kind of a bummer, but…”

“Soonyoung!” You cut him off with a breathless laugh, prompting him to shut his rambling mouth.

The rare use of his name seems to startle him. His eyes go wide with that typical, hopeful anticipation that he never seems to leave home without. That look hasn’t disappeared after six months of getting shot down on a weekly basis, and neither has the way he hangs onto every word you say.

This time, it might actually be what he’s been waiting to hear.

“Do you….?”

It might be a new personal record, you caving like this after holding someone at arm’s length for so long. The relief is automatic, spreading through muscle that you didn’t even realize had been aching.

“If you’re not busy, do you want to stay?”

#svt #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi smut #soonyoung smut #hoshi fluff #soonyoung fluff #svt fic #svt smut #svt fluff #jade writes #re: sweatshirt season #ksy #kvanity

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lilac-gold · 10 months ago

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i know that this is just a part of how omori's fight system operates, but i find it very interesting that we are able to make memes like the one pictured below considering all we know about hero's character throughout omori, both in the real world and in headspace

this meme is made by using hero's "smile" skill as well as a rain cloud, sad poem or anything else that inflicts a sad emotion on him. hero's skills are primarily always either food-based healing (e.g. "cook", "fast food", "homemade jam", "snack time") or some form of charisma (e.g. "captivate", "mesmerise", "enchant", "dazzle"). it's hero's job to be the support of their team, and to use his pleasant demeanor and appearance as a distraction.

no matter which emotion hero has, he can still use every one of those skills. it is of no relevance how he feels as long as he can uphold his designated role as a charmer and a healer.

now, consider real world hero's way of dealing with things, which is that he simply doesn't. when he returns to faraway, he's there for everyone else, appearing on the surface to be completely fine and content, and simply not acknowledging his own trauma. he puts on a constant facade of normalcy and perfection. because to hero, it doesn't matter which emotion he has, he can still use every one of his skills. it is of no relevance how he feels as long as he can uphold his designated role as a charmer and a healer.

hero would bend over backwards to please others. he canonically has depression, but would much rather be someone else's shoulder to cry on than admit he's not okay. everyone puts him on a pedestal, viewing him as a sort of ideal to look up to. sunny does it. kel does it. his parents do it. even hero himself does.

i think that's part of the reason why he's so often overlooked by the fandom: hero's unrealistically perfect, but that's exactly the point. he forces those expectations on himself, forces himself to earn trophies and medals even while he struggles to even get out of bed. he smiles despite wanting to do the opposite, because he's not supposed to be depressed. he's hero.

his charm-based skills in headspace alternate between a) reducing foes' attack with a bonus happy effect and b) acting first with all foes targeting him for one turn. hero either dissolves the situation a little, acting like the mediator he always has been, or takes the blunt of the damage for his friends.

he's constantly in the spotlight, in every world.

headspace hero has done a ridiculous amount to help people, from stopping a wildfire to giving up all of his organs, has made such a profound impact on so many lives through his good deeds, and that's recognised. people in headspace adore him.

the conveyor belts at the junkyard are endeared to him. sweetheart falls in love with him. mr jawsum plans to essentially keep him trapped working at the last resort forever. medusa thinks he's "too pretty to sell". hero's worth something to so many people, even when he doesn't want to be.

and that applies to the real world too. he's the only older sibling left for his friends after mari's death. he has to be strong for them, to be that ideal, because they have no-one else to fill that role. he brings kel and aubrey together, rescues sunny and basil, says that they should have a sleepover like "old times". he's trying so hard for everyone else, he can't afford to let himself crumble.

hero's a performer. and we see canonically that he has at least some stage fright from sweetheart's quest for hearts.

sweetheart's an interesting case. i find it interesting that the image above would be found mostly in the fight against her. sweetheart is one of the bosses with a uniquely heightened emotional state, hers being that of happiness in "manic". due to the way the emotion system in battle works (explained to us, funnily enough, by hero himself), it makes sense to oppose sweetheart's mania with sadness, misery, and depression.

so that's what hero does! he has the depressed effect, he'd otherwise look incredibly morose, but as soon as time calls for it, he's got a smile back on his face. we see how uncomfortable he is about her advances, but he gives her a smile that sets into motion a whole separate stream of dialogue where sweetheart proclaims her that she would like to "make [his smile] mine".

hero's the group golden boy. the charmer, the healer, the protector, the older brother, the pillar for them to lean on when things get tough. he knows that he is, and upholds that image to the best of his ability.

that is, until mari dies.

then, he falls into a deep, serious state of depression in the real world, because he's failed. he and mari have strived for perfection their whole lives, only for her to apparently deem it all pointless and leave them behind. hero feels like he wasn't enough, like he never will be, no matter how much he's tried. the faked grins disappear alongside those which were genuine, for how is he supposed to smile when he's given up on the facade?

he stops talking to people. stops going outside. stops helping. he can't do anything but reflect on his perceived failures, and without his pillar of support, the group crumbles to pieces.

hero stays like that for a whole year, until he argues with kel and remembers the reason why he needs to stay alive. this is hurting his brother as much as it is hero, and kel's depending on him to get better. so he does, in a way.

he earns medals and trophies again, helps out again, lives up to expectations then exceeds them even more. he can't bring himself to do the things he enjoys anymore, or talk to the three kids he viewed as little siblings and he failed, but he's trying. then, he leaves, off to medical school like his parents wanted. it's a fresh start. it's a chance for him to start to move on.

he's been healing, a little, by the time he comes back to faraway. he can talk about what mari would have wanted without breaking down entirely. he can make kel and sunny breakfast. he can bring the group together like old times, and reminisce on all he used to have.

but he's still not better, and it shows. it shows in the tears he spills when alone beside mari's old piano. it shows in his refusal to visit her grave. it shows in all the little ways he can try to hide, can cover up with a smile too bright to be real. depression doesn't go away that easily, no matter how much hero tries to pretend he's fine.

all in all, i think this meme essentially sums up hero's character and arc in a single, otherwise funny image. am i overcomplicating things? oh, definitely yes. was this a blast to analyse nonetheless? absolutely! there are far too few takes on hero out there, and i hope this gave a little bit of insight as to why i adore him so much.

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cherienymphe · 2 years ago

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When The Party’s Over VIII (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON (+anal), abusive relationship, forbidden relationship, violence, semi public sex, jealousy, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, corruption, forced pregnancy, innocent reader, Heyward!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @silkholland

➥ series masterlist

summary: Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

“Hey, do you have dad’s industrial scissors?”

That was what you were woken up to, Pope barging into your room in the early hours of the morning without so much as a knock. You could hear him looking around your room, and you resisted the urge to huff.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” you tiredly mumbled.

“Believe me, I didn’t want to come in here either, but JJ is waiting and it’s kind of urgent…”

His words died in the air as he became distracted once again, and already irritated, the sound of Pope rifling through your room was threatening to send you over the edge. With a groan, you sat up, flinging your covers off and stomping towards him.

“No, I don’t have his gigantic scissors, Pope. Get out,” you told him, yanking his hand away from one of your drawers. “You didn’t even knock!”

“It’s almost 10 am so excuse me for thinking you were awake. Besides, I thought I was going to be in and out, but…”

He trailed off as you closed your drawer, and when you looked at him, he was looking at you in shock. Pope’s lips had parted, and his eyes were wide, unblinking. You frowned at him, about to ask him if he was having a stroke or something when he slowly reached up.

You stumbled back when his fingers touched your neck.

“What the hell?” he breathed, following you.

You were quick to put your hand to your neck, an attempt to cover the nasty bruising you knew was there.

“It’s nothing-.”

“Nothing? That’s not nothing,” his voice rose, and you worriedly looked over his shoulder. “They’re not home if that’s what you’re worried about and good thing because I’d call pops in here, right now!”

“Pope, it’s nothing, okay? Just an accident,” you tried to reassure him, turning away.

He wasn’t having it, grabbing your shoulders and making you face him again. You batted his hands away, turning back around and deciding you were staying up. You avoided his eyes as you searched for something to wear.

“An accident?” he scoffed. “What? Someone just accidentally choked the shit out of you?”

Funnily enough, that was exactly what had happened.

You heard footsteps approaching, and you sighed, completely forgetting what Pope had said about JJ. You turned your back to both of them as the blond stumbled to a stop, having not expecting Pope to be standing in your room.

“Hey, you got them?” he wondered. “Y/N. Always a pleasure.”

You waved from over your shoulder, just wanting them to leave.

“No…I didn’t,” Pope spat. “I got distracted because someone choked the shit out of Y/N, and she’s trying to tell me it was an accident.”

“Wait what?”

It was clear by his chuckle that JJ thought Pope was joking.

“Pope-.”

“You don’t just accidentally get bruises like this,” he told you, quickly approaching and turning you around again.

JJ’s hiss was loud, and you shoved against Pope’s chest.

“…and I told you that’s exactly what happened. Get out, I don’t have dad’s stupid scissors.”

Pope was looking at you in disbelief, and the laugh he let out was bitter.

“That’s really the story you’re going with.”

“It’s the truth,” you repeated. “Get out.”

You and Pope stared each other down for a few more moments before he scoffed, accepting that you weren’t budging on this. He shook his head at you, and you hated the look in his eyes, but when you looked over, you hated the look in JJ’s more. Both were looking at you like some…victim, and that wasn’t the case, at all.

You made sure to slam and lock your door the minute they were gone.

As if he could sense the trouble he’d caused, your phone lit up with a text from Rafe. He wanted to know when the house would be empty, and you told him. As you stared at the text thread, you absentmindedly reached up to brush your fingers over your neck.

It was an accident.

Rafe had been high out of his mind when he choked you, and if you had even found it within yourself to be mad, it was gone with one look at his face after he’d shaken you awake. Rafe had felt so bad, tears in his eyes as he pulled you against him, profusely apologizing for getting carried away. He kept running his hands over you, pressing kisses to your face and telling you how sorry he was.

You knew if you told anyone what happened, they’d look at you like you were crazy. Like Pope had looked at you, but it really was nothing more than a screwed up accident. Rafe was the type to get tunnel vision, anyway, and when combined with the coke and losing himself in the feel of you, it really didn’t make for the best combination.

He hadn’t done it on purpose, and you weren’t going to make Rafe out to be some horrible villain just because he lost control in the heat of the moment. You still recalled how he’d taken care of you afterward, holding ice to your skin and bringing you something to drink. Of course, you hadn’t just brushed it off, both of you having a serious conversation about his habits.

When you were done getting dressed, your neck looked as pristine as usual. It was still sore, and again, you brought your fingers up to graze over your skin with a slight frown. The makeup was a perfect match, and only two…well….four people would be able to tell you had any on.

Rafe greeted you with a kiss when you answered the door, his arm around you and his other hand on your jaw. You chuckled into his mouth when he pressed you against the door, and you were so thankful nobody else was home.

“How are you feeling?” he quietly asked, pecking you again.

“I’m okay,” you said with a nod.

You knew what he was referring to, and you decided to remain quiet on the fact that both Pope and JJ had seen his accidental handiwork. You didn’t even want to entertain what kind of conversation that would start. Rafe slipped his hand into yours as he walked you to his truck, kissing your cheek.

You could feel his gaze on your throat as he helped you in, and you knew he was imagining what was underneath the makeup. It hadn’t been this bad yesterday, and you really didn’t want him to see just how dark it had gotten. When he finally joined you, you leaned over and pressed your lips to his cheek. You brushed your finger underneath his eye, worriedly wondering just how little he’d slept.

“I’m okay, Rafe,” you assured him. “I promise.”

He gave you a jerky nod, roughly exhaling before starting the truck and taking your hand.

Midsummers was something that was mentioned once or twice between you and Rafe, the second time being when he bought your dress. It went unspoken that you’d be showing up with your friends, he’d be showing up with his family, and you’d just make the most of it. Would you have preferred to walk in at his side? Absolutely, but Pope would have a stroke.

Especially since he was helping your dad serve the event.

You’d been going to school with Kooks for a good chunk of your life, but for some reason, you’d never given Midsummers a second thought until you were with Rafe. He’d brought it up once, and suddenly you were thinking about flowers in your hair and a pretty dress and Rafe in a handsome tux. Your mom had fussed over you when Bunny came to pick you up, Cam riding with Kelce. It had taken too long to convince her she’d taken enough pictures.

You were already there when the Camerons arrived, switching drinks with Bunny. You’d been chuckling at something she’d said about Topper when you felt eyes on you. Rafe was alone when you looked over, and for a moment you’d forgotten that your relationship was supposed to be a secret. You’d never seen Rafe so dressed up before, and he’d taken you by surprise.

You’d only been pulled from your thoughts by Cam’s appearance.

“Kelce said there’s an afterparty back at his place,” she told you, a grin on her lips. “He’s going to have the good stuff.”

At the mention of drugs, you grimaced, bringing your drink up to your lips. You weren’t naïve enough to think Rafe would just quit cold turkey, positive that wasn’t even healthy, but you were relieved to not see his pupils so blown lately. You stared into your drink with a frown, wondering if there was something wrong with you for making excuses for your coke addict boyfriend.

It was so normalized with the people you hung out with that maybe you were accepting it as no big deal too. I mean, how many times had Rafe driven to see you while high? You’d always been adamantly against that, still was, and yet here you were…still with him. Granted, it wasn’t as black and white as you’d always thought.

You saw firsthand the toll Rafe’s family took on him. You saw the frustration, heard the arguments and witnessed that look in Rafe’s eyes as another piece of him broke with yet another reminder that he’d never measure up in Ward’s eyes. Rafe was right when he pointed out the vast difference in your families, and truthfully? There was no telling what you’d choose to cope if you had a dad like his.

So, maybe that was why you’d chosen to just look the other way when he’d brush a smidge of white powder away that had been resting under his nose. Or maybe that was why you’d simply held a tissue to his face when he’d get a random nose bleed. Maybe it was why it had taken him losing control with you in the heat of the moment for you to stop and say ‘okay, this is officially a problem’.

It didn’t take long for Rafe to disappear, giving you a pointed look as he did. When your friends were well and truly distracted, you slipped away too. You were walking down the hall when you were grabbed, pulled into an empty room and made to come face to face with none other than Rafe. You smiled at him, but he was much more focused on your dress.

“You look like a princess,” he breathed, pressing his lips to yours. “…or a bride.”

That word had your heart skipping a beat, and you smiled into the kiss.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you told him. “You look so refined. So…good.”

Rafe smirked at that, kissing you again and pressing his hands into the small of your back. He swayed with you, and you could faintly hear the music bleeding through the walls. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and there was a part of you that really wished you weren’t dancing in the privacy of some empty room but instead on the dancefloor with all of the other couples. You pulled away, swallowing and dropping your head.

“You okay? Is it your neck?”

You shook your head at that.

You had taken something before you came here and had put on pounds of makeup just to be extra careful. As if reading your mind, Rafe spoke again.

“I wish we were out there,” he eventually said, and you bit your lip.

“I’m going to tell him. I will…”

“When?” he chuckled, but it lacked humor. “I get it, okay? But this can’t go on forever. It’s literally impossible.”

“I know,” you sighed.

You thought about the incident the other morning, and you thought about how if you went public with your relationship with Rafe, now, you wouldn’t even begin to convince Pope that it wasn’t him. Your brother wasn’t stupid, and even if it really hadn’t been Rafe, Pope would want it to be him.

“You care about him and his opinion, that’s great, but it’s starting to seem like you’re letting that control your life.”

Rafe’s words made you bristle, and that was because it was true.

“Things are good, right now, Rafe. We’re just…existing, and the minute I tell Pope about us, that’s over. You get that, right?”

He sighed, looking away, and you wondered how you went from a romantic moment to this. You reached for him, smoothing out his tie and exhaling.

“I’m going to tell him,” you quietly repeated. “I am. I just need time.”

The blond nodded, his hair pushed away from his face, and you swallowed. You slowly wrapped your arms around him again, giving him a small smile, the gesture growing when he reluctantly returned it. You lost track of how long you and Rafe stole a moment together, forced to admit that your absences would start to look suspicious.

You decided to leave first, and you were so wrapped up in the perils of your relationship that you almost bumped right into JJ.

“I didn’t know you were working this event,” you said, a smile on your face and pretending like your last interaction had never happened.

“Some of us have to slut ourselves out just to eat,” he joked, sliding a hand down his body, gesturing to the fancy outfit he’d been forced into. “Not everyone can show up looking like a princess and partaking in the festivities.”

You felt heat rise to your face at that, recalling Rafe’s exact compliment. You watched JJ bite his lip, and you could tell he had something on his mind.

“You’re looking unblemished.”

Your face fell at that, and you looked away.

“Pope really almost lost it…you know that?”

JJ’s tone was unfamiliar to you, more serious, filled with concern, and you didn’t think you liked this side of him. Especially when it was directed at you.

“It’s really none of his business.”

JJ was laughing before you even finished talking, and he didn’t sound even remotely amused.

“You’re his sister…and you looked like someone tried to strangle you to death,” he slowly pointed out. “You can’t ‘it’s none of his business’ your way out of this one.”

You knew JJ was right, and you knew you were being unfair, and you sighed.

“It was an accident,” you reiterated, holding his blue gaze. “I know Pope doesn’t believe that, and you probably don’t either, but it was. I promise.”

JJ seemed to stew on that for a minute, chewing on his lip with a nod.

“Then you should probably hang around people with a little more self-control.”

His words had your lips parting, and you were struggling with something to say when a familiar voice reached your ears.

“JJ.”

You blinked, eyes falling to the ground.

“You’re a little lost, aren’t you?”

“I know it’s unfamiliar to you because you’ve never had to lift a finger in your life, but this is called a uniform, Rafe.”

JJ’s tone was light, but the tension in the air was anything but.

“Excuse me, Miss, is this Pogue bothering you…?”

You couldn’t tell if Rafe was trying to be funny or genuinely trying to pick a fight, but your eyes were pleading when they met his.

“No,” you told him, glancing at JJ.

“I know you like to pretend you’re unaware of everyone you think is beneath you, but you know she’s Pope’s sister,” JJ laughed. “I’ve known her a lot longer than you have, so, if anyone is the odd man out, right now, it’s you.”

Your heart dropped when Rafe’s brows rose at that, a soft ‘ah’.

“Is that so? You two go way back or something?” he was talking to JJ, but he glanced at you.

“Rafe, come on. He’s just doing his job,” you softly said.

“Not what I saw,” he drawled, leaning in towards the other blond. “Looked like he was slacking on the job to me.”

JJ just grinned.

“Like you’d even know what that looks like.”

“JJ, please.”

“Yeah, JJ. Please,” Rafe mocked, grinning.

“Rafe.”

Both blonds seemed to assess just how worried and uncomfortable you were, eyeing each other up before Rafe finally let out a scoff. He pushed past JJ, but not without roughly bumping his shoulder on the way. Disappointment tore through you, and you pressed your lips together. You were about to apologize when JJ cursed.

“Asshole,” he murmured. “Always trying to make like he’s top dog or something.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I know your friend’s dating Kelce and all, but please tell me you steer clear of that Kook. He makes Topper look like baby Jesus,” JJ scoffed, shaking his head and moving past you to get more supplies, no doubt.

There was a heavy weight in your chest at the thought that their negative history wasn’t as behind them as you’d thought. After all, how could it be if one run-in had almost ended in a fight? Your disappointment with Rafe had you rubbing your forehead, and you eventually forced yourself to return to the main event.

You avoided Rafe’s gaze as you mingled with your friends and his. You mostly stared into your drink, barely contributing to the conversation, and when you glanced up, you could see Sarah watching you…and Topper. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, glancing up and freezing as you realized Rafe had noticed too. He didn’t look happy, and you watched him angrily down his drink before leaving to get another.

It was then that your eyes found Pope’s from across the room as he stood with Kie, seemingly taking a break from helping dad. Ever since that morning, he’d been giving you something of a cold shoulder, and he didn’t look any less angry as he returned your gaze.

“I’ll be right back,” you told your friends.

Kie took the hint when you neared, excusing herself under the guise of getting something to drink.

“How long are you going to be mad at me?”

“How long are you going to keep lying for some asshole?”

“Pope-.”

“Even if it was an accident, who accidentally chokes someone?” he continued when you opened your mouth. “…and yeah, that was definitely done by someone’s hands.”

“Pope…”

“You expecting me not to be mad about this is insane, you know,” he told you, looking equally confused and disappointed.

You swallowed, finding it hard to do so.

Pope was right. He was so right, and that’s what you hated. As your brother, he had every right to be mad, and you hated it because Rafe hadn’t done it on purpose. He hadn’t even been in his right mind, and God, you knew that he fucked up. He knew that he fucked up, so it just sucked to know that as accidental as it was, Pope had every right to hate Rafe…even if he didn’t know it was Rafe.

There was only so much defending you could do before you sounded silly.

Just then, a commotion drew your attention, and both you and Pope looked over to see JJ being escorted out. You frowned at the sight, frown deepening when you saw the slight blood on his lip and fresh red bruise under his eye. Your lips parted, disbelief tearing through you as everyone watched, and when you looked around, you saw Kelce and some of his friends together and laughing.

Rafe was laughing with them.

“Assholes,” you heard Pope spit, taking off after JJ.

Kie and Sarah were soon to follow, and your frown deepened. The sound of Rafe’s laugh had you pressing your lips together, and you went in search of your purse. You knew that Bunny had left them in some room she was sure no one would go into, and even if anyone did ‘who here is going to steal?’, she’d said.

When you found it, you angrily grabbed it, almost tripping over your dress as you stomped out. Rafe was coming from the other way, and you really didn’t have words when he grabbed you.

“Hey, hey, where are you going?”

“To make sure Pope and his friend are okay,” you told him like it was obvious.

Rafe frowned at you, and you took in the slight wrinkle of his suit and his not so neat hair. He stared at you for a minute, hands on your arms and holding you in place.

“Wait…are you mad at me?”

“Rafe, I thought this was behind you,” you finally said, and you watched him scoff, frowning to himself. “Do you think I would’ve happily agreed to date you if you were still going around and fighting with my brother and his friends?”

“Woah, woah,” he hissed, leaning in. “I never touched Pope.”

“You touched JJ,” you said with a shrug. “…and JJ is his best friend, I mean, am I so crazy to think my brother could be next?”

Rafe blinked, licking his lips and glancing away with a huff. He let one of your arms go, and you hadn’t realized how tight he was holding you until the blood started to rush back into it. He touched your cheek, gaze softening.

“Hey,” he cooed. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

You softly sighed, holding his gaze.

“I…” he touched his chest, looking between your eyes. “I promise you, as long as I’m with you, I won’t touch Pope. I wouldn’t do that.”

“…but JJ-.”

“JJ is a little shit who likes a good fight just as much as I do,” he snapped.

You rolled your eyes at that, moving to get away.

“Pope is still worried about him, and I want to make sure-.”

“So what? You’re ditching me to go check on that Pogue?”

Rafe prevented you from leaving, fingers pressing into your arms and keeping you between him and the wall.

“He looks way more hurt than you do,” you pointed out. “In fact, you look perfectly fine. He’s the one who’s bleeding.”

“JJ has a gaggle of friends ready to lick his wounds,” Rafe sneered. “Meanwhile you’re the only thing that made this night enjoyable for me.”

You deflated at that, mouth opening and closing as his face fell. Rafe stared at you with a frown, exhaling through his nose.

“I shouldn’t have touched him, alright?” he relented. “…but…you can’t leave me here to deal with my dad on my own.”

You hesitated, swallowing and thinking to yourself that even if you decided to just leave, Rafe was preventing you from doing so.

“Kelce and Topper are-.”

“They’re not you,” Rafe whispered, moving closer. “You know they’re not you.”

Once again, your chest bloomed with the knowledge that Rafe felt you were the only one he could truly rely on, who he could really be himself with. He wasn’t wrong in pointing out that JJ had a whole group of people to make sure he was okay, and Pope had that same group to help him ease his worry. Rafe’s forehead touched yours.

“Please…stay,” he quietly begged. “For me.”

You briefly closed your eyes, reluctantly nodding, and when Rafe smiled, you reluctantly returned it.

Rafe hissed as your nails dug into his skin, drawing blood. Your eyes were squeezed shut, and you were pressing your teeth into your lip to swallow down any whimper of pain that threatened to escape. You were much drunker than you’d intended, so maybe that was why you’d jokingly agreed when Rafe brushed his fingers between your cheeks and went on a drunken tangent about his desperation to fill all of your holes.

You’d been giggling…and then you weren’t.

“Breathe, beautiful,” he whispered into your ear, slowly thrusting into you.

You felt full and stretched in a way that didn’t seem possible, and as much as Rafe had prepared you with his tongue and his fingers and the lube in his nightstand, you’d still tensed when his cock pushed through that forbidden opening. He’d had to pause several times, waiting for you to catch your breath and for your chest to stop heaving.

The house was so quiet, the clock telling you it was nearing dawn, and the only sound was that of your shaky breathing and Rafe’s periodic moan. One of his hands was on you, thumb circling your clit and dragging itself between your folds. The combination in sensations had your head spinning, and it was almost enough to make you forget that dull ache as he stretched you out.

You tightened your arms around him and winced for a whole other reason.

You hadn’t realized just how tightly Rafe had grabbed you at Midsummers until you woke up the next day with darker coloring on your arms. You’d been in shock, not even remembering feeling in pain or anything like it. You’d stared at the bruises for a while before telling yourself that he’d had a lot to drink, and just like with the coke, he’d lost sight of his own strength. A genuine accident.

Besides, that night had turned stressful for both of you.

You threw your head back, pushing it against his pillows as he rutted into you again, hitting something so unknown it had you gasping. The pressure was so intense, much more than it normally was, and your body felt at war, conflicted between wanting to push him out and wanting to suck him back in.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lips brushing yours. “You’re doing so good.”

You didn’t feel that way. At least, you didn’t think you did. It was all too intense, his cock in you and his fingers in you, and you squirmed away.

“Rafe…wait…”

He shushed you, kissing you and slowly pushing his cock into you. His fingers slowly curved into your core, and you shied away from both, feeling wholly overwhelmed.

“Rafe, it’s…it’s too much,” you gasped, stomach clenching.

“You’re fine,” he assured you, moaning. “You’re fine, beautiful.”

You felt a little out of your element, and anytime you uttered the word ‘can’t’, Rafe assured you that you could.

“You can take it,” he purred, smiling at the way your breath hitched. “Just relax.”

You tried to, but when Rafe added a third finger and brushed his thumb along your bundle of nerves, you came harder than you ever had. There was a roaring in your ear, like waves or static, and the only indication you had that you were making noise was the feel of Rafe placing a hand over your mouth. You could faintly feel him coming too, filling you up and jerking into you.

When you came back down, stars swam in your vision, and Rafe was slow and careful to pull out. Your legs fell, and you gasped, chest heaving. You could feel Rafe’s hands on your legs as he turned you over, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek.

“See,” he murmured into your skin. “That wasn’t so bad.”

You gave a light chuckle, and you tiredly looked at him as he joined you. His blue gaze fell to your neck, eyeing the faded bruising, and you hated the way the light in his eyes dimmed. He slowly reached up to brush a finger along your throat, softly exhaling.

“Don’t do that,” you whispered, and he just shook his head.

Rafe leaned down to press kisses along your neck, fingers tracing patterns into your back.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

He laid down before you, looking at you as you looked at him. His dirty blond locks went every which way, and a thin layer of sweat covered his tan skin.

“I’m sorry,” he said, saying the same thing he’d said many times over.

“I know,” you murmured.

He was quiet for a moment before turning onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He took a deep breath, a rueful smile on his pink lips.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You frowned.

“Rafe…”

“I don’t,” he said with a shake of his head. “I really don’t, and I know I don’t, but I’m too selfish to give a fuck, you know?”

His eyes met yours, and he reached out to lightly poke at your lips.

“Too selfish to do the right thing and let you go.”

You scooted closer, taking his hand.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you quietly assured him.

Looking back, you meant it at the time.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” he bitterly smiled, drinking you in. “…because even if you wanted to…”

He chuckled to himself, but it lacked humor.

“I really don’t think I could let you.”

His face was even as he said this, taking your joined hands and dragging his index finger down the side of your face. Rafe didn’t look tired, at all, seemingly content to watch you fall asleep, and as much as you wanted to stay up and keep talking to him, you seemed content to give him what he wanted.

#dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx #Outer Banks #obx fanfiction

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imagininghogwarts · 5 months ago

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Erised | Oliver Wood

A/N: just a short little blurb to start out with! Takes place in your fifth year, during the events of the Philosopher's Stone :)

You sat on the cold floor, criss cross, like you did most nights lately. You stared into the reflection before you wistfully. You were wistful a lot these days.

The night you found the mirror, you had been tossing and turning, unable to sleep, before deciding to get up and wander the castle. You didn't exactly have an end destination in mind, but you ended up stumbling across the mirror and gazing into it for quite a while.

You weren't sure what the mirror did, but you knew you liked what you saw in it. It was you, only you were your house's quidditch captain, and you were holding up the quidditch cup in one hand. In the other hand was the hand of your friend, Oliver Wood, who was standing beside you and gazing at your reflection lovingly. It was obvious just by how he was looking at you that he was in love with you.

Could that be what the mirror did? Could it show you what you wanted? You didn't know for sure, all you knew was that you could gaze into it for eternity. That is, if Dumbledore hadn't found you late one night.

"I trust you realize by now what this mirror does, miss L/N?" You spun around to find the headmaster looking at you, surprisingly not angry with you for being out of bed. You looked at him, slightly confused. "I... I think so."

"I'll give you a hint," said the headmaster. "The happiest man in the world would gaze into it and see nothing but himself, just as he is." You pondered his words for a moment, what he said basically confirming your suspicions. "So... it shows us what we want?"

"Yes... and also no. You see, this mirror shows you only your most deepest, desperate desires. I am assuming," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "that you see Mr. Wood in the reflection, am I correct?" Your eyes widened at the headmaster's words. You'd always been close with Dumbledore, he was very fond of you, but you'd never told him that. "H-how did you...?"

"I am old, miss L/N," he said, "but I am not daft, nor am I blind. I too remember being young and in love." He gave you a knowing look, causing heat to rise to your face and your ears. You fiddled with the sleeves of your jumper, desperately changing the subject. "That's not all I see, professor..." you bit your lip. "I... I'm also quidditch captain."

Dumbledore nodded. "Ah yes, a fine chaser, and a fierce leader. You would do well as quidditch captain. But remember this, Y/N. This mirror gives us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away in front of it, even gone mad with hopeless longing. That is why tomorrow night, it will be moved to a new location, and I must ask you not to go looking for it again. It does not do to dwell on dreams, Y/N, and forget to live."

The next night, you didn't search for the mirror; in fact, you never looked for it again. Funnily enough, you began to sleep better after that. You also plucked up the courage to kiss Oliver Wood, and eventually made captain of your house quidditch team, which he was very proud of you for. You supposed you had Dumbledore to thank for all of that. You would've been content to stare into that mirror for the rest of your life had he not told you what he did. And after all, it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.

#harry potter #harry potter characters x reader #hp x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #oliver wood #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood imagine

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zealouswitchwerewolf · 6 days ago

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Head canon that all the bats are actually pretty decent cooks but only under very specific circumstances.

Bruce: if Alfred is anywhere near, he'll burn water. He can however cook for 15+ people, if he tries for any less he ends up overusing salt/sugar/spices and the food ends up inedible. Whenever Alfred has the day off, he secretly cooks for his kids while pretending he's just reheating Alfred's dishes. Curiously, they all usually find excuses to show up at the manor when Alfred isn't there, even Jason.

Dick: will not cook for himself even if he has to eat raw pasta. However, if one of his siblings is coming over or they ask for a snack he can make mostly healthy food with the most random ingredients that no one else would have put together. It's usually pretty good.

Jason: can't cook with people in his kitchen. He needs space. The exception is Alfred. Tim has taken to hiding in random places in the kitchen to see how long he can stay without Jason kicking him out. His best spot is top of the fridge, almost beaten by the time he hid inside a floating cabinet and it ended up caving to his weight and dropping him on top of the sauce Jason was making (luckily not yet on the stove).

Tim: only cooks when the recipe has precise measurements of each ingredient (mg/ml instead of cups/tbsp). Proceeds to completely ignore his recipe and ends up with a completely different thing, usually opposite of what he was making, still tastes like he had used the recipe for the final thing.

Cass: cooks based on vibes only so most of the time she's the only one who can eat her concoction, mostly using ingredients that require her to dance and contort around the kitchen at the beat of whatever music she's listening to or just whatever. That being said, her food improves drastically if someone's in the kitchen with her, out of her way but watching, cause then she bases her measurements and ingredients in body language and her proportions end up being incredibly accurate.

Steph: can make anything that requires batter and make it be the best thing you've ever tasted. So waffles, crepes, pancakes, some cookies, cake, etc. Anything other than that will end up on fire. Funnily enough, she can also make incredible fillings that have an uncanny resemblance to some of her previous ashen attempts.

Duke: can cook in the dark without making a mess. He's also a pretty decent cook in general but he somehow leaves piles of dirty pans/dishes whenever he's seen cooking, no matter how simple his dish is.

Damian: can only cook with the recipe or someone (Dick specifically but sometimes Alfred) guiding him. His favorite food is the one traditional from the league, specifically the recipes Talia gave him when he went to Gotham. He wants them to be exactly as his mother intended so he won't deviate from the recipe in the slightest. It's special to him. Just as it's special to cook with Richard and getting to learn his favorite foods from before Bruce took him in. He might or might not either write the recipe after each time he cooks with Richard and ask clarifying questions like "what do you mean measure with your heart? How many tablespoons is that? No, I didn't see, you covered my eyes and told me to 'trust the process'"

Bonus: Alfred has the skill of spoiling the food of people he deeply dislikes while making the rest of it completely perfect for everyone else. Even if it's all cooking in the same pot. He's gotten so good at it he doesn't even do it consciously anymore and forgets he's doing it. It still gets the point across though. Interestingly enough, each of the bats partners have gotten shitty food from Alfred at least once (either shovel talk style or because they did something mean to their respective bat or wtv), they can't even say anything cause all the bats will just look at them like they're being crazy because Alfred could never while Alfred smirks at them from the opposite side of the room.

#batman #bruce wayne #tim drake #batfam #Jason Todd #alfred pennyworth #damian wayne #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #dick grayson #cooking as a language #rambles

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 4 months ago

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logan howlett blurb 18+

hi hi im sorry guys this isnt awesome but i love my wolverine and maybe ill make a part two or perhaps something cool like that if ya like it! also just general warning for smut and some kinky age gap stuff! also. reader is fem and a mutant! word count: 1030 edit: you can now read a full version of this blurb here!

So for a twenty something year old with few ambitions, the social skills of a Martian with autism, and a huge crush on every older emotionally unavailable man you meet, it’s a pretty good set-up.

“My-My natural habitat?” You laugh, closing the book you’re reading because your attention is locked to him now.

“Yeah, seems like it.” He saunters on up to you and sits on the bench next to you.

And let’s make something very clear—

Logan Howlett does not sit.

This man poses, as if there’s always some invisible camera capturing every frame of movement, from the way his legs spread out, to the way his chest lifts when he inhales.

Fuck, you think you might die if you can’t suck him off right now.

“And what exactly is my uh.. habitat?” You question.

He takes out his lighter and a cigar, placing the cigar in his mouth as he gestures to the space around the two of you, lighter in hand.

“A garden.” He says, matter of facility, as his voice is muffled only the slightest bit by the cigar.

And you just sort of look at him before asking,

“Oh, you enjoy being boiled down to your mutations, Claws?” You question, and as he goes to light the cigar, he smirks.

“Alright, you gotta admit though, it is cliché!”

You are absolutely in agreement, there is zero doubt you are as much of a walking, breathing, real life living, stereotype.

“It is not!” And the pair of you give each other this look, like you’re both shocked at how whiney that statement is!

“Uh-huh, sure, Spitfire.” It sounds almost like he’s purring at you.

When he lights his cigar, he’s sort of eying you for your reaction, whatever you might say.

“You know, smoking is not only bad for you, it’s awful for the environment.”

“You’re probably the most cliché little freak around here.” Which.. honestly..? Shouldn’t possibly turn you on as much as it does.

You just stare at him for a minute, and he smirks.

“Cat got your tongue?’

And maybe it’s stupid and maybe it’s immature but your hand just comes over to fiddle with the pointed part of his hair.

“We’ll you certainly look the part.” He just looks at you, and honestly? The way he’s looking at you, it’s like he’s proud of you for teasing him.

“You’re a tease, Claws.” You respond, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Says you,” he raises and eyebrow, leaning closer to you now, “You’re the one laying around in the sun, looking like that.”

And let’s be clear—he is fucking you with his eyes. There’s no way to go around it.

“I think you’re just.. horny.” You tease, and he just growls. Seriously, this man who is undressing you with his eyes, growls, because he does want you and he is horny!

But you just cough on the smoke from his cigar, before frowning.

“You really shouldn’t smoke.”

"Aw, I'll make it up to you," he smirks, "Promise, spitfire."

#danny speaks to the void #wolverine x reader #wolverine #wolverine smut #wolverine blurb #logan howlett blurb #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine brain go brrrrr

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