#and if more people do these gestures they will leave for sure
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Dark library
Pairings: Wednesday x F!Reader
Summary: When Wednesday needs help retrieving a forbidden book from the library's restricted section, she enlists Y/n for a midnight mission. Things take an unexpected turn.
A/N: English isnât my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes:/
The night was quiet, save for the rustling leaves and the faint chirp of crickets outside Nevermoreâs tall, gothic windows. Y/n lounged in the common room, her gaze focused on the faint shadows that danced on the ceiling, when Wednesdayâs familiar, quiet footsteps echoed from the hall.
âThere you are,â Wednesday said, her voice as steady as ever, but her eyes held a glint of urgency. âI need you for something.â
Y/nâs lips curled into a grin. âYou sure you donât just want me for something?â she teased, standing up and brushing the dust from her jacket. She let her gaze linger on Wednesday a little longer than necessary, just to enjoy the way Wednesdayâs expression barely shifted.
âHardly,â Wednesday replied, unfazed. âI need a book from the restricted section of the library. It contains records on past incidents at Nevermore that could prove useful to my current investigation. Youâll help me retrieve it.â
âWow, how romantic.â Y/n smirked, leaning closer to her. âMost people would settle for dinner before dragging me into a dark library at night, but I guess this works too.â
Wednesday gave her a sidelong look. âIf youâre quite finished with your verbal theatricsâŠâ
Y/n chuckled and threw up her hands. âAlright, alright, lead the way. You know I love a good thrill.â She winked and followed Wednesday out into the corridor.
They moved quietly through the shadowed halls, Wednesdayâs gaze sharp and alert, Y/n walking beside her with an easy confidence. She kept glancing at Wednesday, amused by her serious focus.
âYou know, if I didnât know any better, Iâd say youâre looking for an excuse to spend time with me,â Y/n whispered, grinning.
Wednesday shot her a glare. âIf I were, youâd be the last to know.â
âOuch.â Y/n held a hand to her chest, feigning injury. âYou wound me, Addams. But hey, if it gets me a midnight adventure with you, Iâll take it.â
Wednesday rolled her eyes, but a tiny smirk slipped through. She paused at the corner leading to the library doors, turning to Y/n. âYouâll need to keep quiet once weâre inside,â she instructed, her voice a low whisper. âThe restricted section is guarded by a sensor. The last thing we need is for someone to come investigating.â
Y/nâs grin widened. âDonât worry, Iâll be as quiet as a grave.â She tilted her head, watching Wednesday with a mischievous glint in her eye. âAlthough if we do get caught, Iâd be more than happy to take the fall for you. Iâll tell them I couldnât resist the thrill of sneaking into a dark library with Nevermoreâs finest.â
Wednesday raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused. âYouâre insufferable.â
âAdmit it, you love it.â Y/n winked and gestured for her to lead the way.
Wednesday pushed the heavy door open just enough for them to slip inside. The library was vast and dimly lit, rows of ancient bookshelves stretching up into shadows. The restricted section was tucked away at the back, behind a wrought-iron gate marked âAuthorized Personnel Only.â Wednesday stepped confidently through the aisles, with Y/n right beside her, her eyes darting around as if savoring the thrill of breaking the rules.
âTell me, Wednesday,â Y/n murmured, her voice soft yet playful in the quiet. âWhy risk getting caught? Whatâs so special about this book?â
âIt contains details of past incidents that were erased from the school records,â Wednesday replied, her tone as steady as ever. âDisturbances that the administration deemed too dangerous for the general student body to know about.â
Y/n raised an eyebrow, leaning in. âDangerous, huh? You know how to pick a page-turner. Iâm intrigued.â
âGood,â Wednesday replied without a hint of a smile, moving ahead and scanning the shelves with a precise gaze. She motioned to a shelf near the top, where a dusty, ancient-looking book was wedged between two thick tomes. âThatâs the one.â
Y/n gave a mock sigh, looking up at the book. âConveniently placed just out of reach. I donât suppose youâd let me lift you up there, would you?â
Wednesdayâs lips pressed together, giving Y/n a deadpan look. âIâll pass. I trust youâre capable of retrieving it yourself.â
With a grin, Y/n reached up, stretching to grasp the spine of the book, which was heavier than it looked. She handed it down to Wednesday, who began inspecting the cover with fascination.
âCanât wait to see what secrets you find in there,â Y/n whispered, leaning close enough for her shoulder to brush against Wednesdayâs.
Wednesday glanced sideways at her. âStay focused. Weâre not out of here yet.â
But as if on cue, the sound of footsteps approached. A flashlight beam cut through the darkness, and the library door creaked open. Wednesdayâs eyes widened slightly, recognizing the telltale click of Thornhillâs heels echoing through the library.
âPerfect timing,â Y/n muttered, her voice tense but tinged with amusement. âI guess we didnât make it out in time.â
Wednesday looked around quickly, her gaze steely. âWe canât let her see us with this book. Hide it, quickly.â
Y/nâs mind raced, and then, in a flash of reckless inspiration, she slid the book beneath her jacket and turned to Wednesday with a glint in her eye.
âTrust me,â she whispered. And before Wednesday could protest, Y/n stepped in close, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss.
For a second, Wednesday went completely still, her dark eyes wide in shock. But then, against all reason, she let herself fall into it, her lips pressing back with an intensity that surprised them both. Y/nâs fingers traced along Wednesdayâs jaw, tilting her head gently as they moved even closer. It was magnetic, a stolen moment hidden in the shadowsâand as the flashlight swept over them, Thornhill stopped, her silhouette freezing in the doorway.
The teacher cleared her throat, and Y/n reluctantly broke the kiss, glancing over with a look of feigned guilt. âOh, Miss Thornhill,â she said, trying not to laugh. âIâI didnât think anyone would be here at this hourâŠâ
Thornhill sighed, her face unreadable in the dim light. âThe library is closed. You know the rules. Both of you, out. Now.â
âYes, maâam,â Y/n said, reaching for Wednesdayâs hand and pulling her quickly toward the door. As soon as they were out of Thornhillâs sight, she burst into quiet laughter, the thrill of the moment still making her pulse race.
âWell, that was one way to keep us from getting caught,â Wednesday muttered, eyeing her with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.
Y/n smirked, her voice low and teasing. âAdmit it, you didnât hate it.â
Y/n still had that mischievous glint in her eye as they hurried down the hall, her fingers entwined with Wednesdayâs for a moment longer than necessary before she let go. The book was still safely tucked under her jacket, but all she could think about was the kiss. She couldnât help but glance over at Wednesday, her smirk deepening when she noticed a slight flush on Wednesdayâs usually unflappable face.
âLooks like Iâve found a new way to keep you quiet,â Y/n murmured, teasing.
Wednesdayâs eyes narrowed. âEnjoy your moment of amusement while it lasts. Next time, there are far lessâŠinvasive ways to avoid getting caught.â
âWhereâs the fun in that?â Y/n whispered, her voice soft and dangerous. But before Wednesday could respond, they turned the corner into the common room, where Enid and Yoko sat on the couch, deep in conversation. Both girls looked up as they entered, their expressions quickly turning to curiosity as they took in Y/nâs and Wednesdayâs flushed faces.
âUmâŠwhat exactly were you two doing?â Enid asked, eyebrows raised as she took in the sight of the two slightly disheveled girls.
Yoko smirked, her red-tinted glasses slipping down her nose as she eyed them. âYeah, you two lookâŠintense.â
Y/n, still slightly out of breath, let out a laugh, shrugging her jacket to adjust the hidden book and stretching her arms over her head with an easy, casual confidence. âOh, you know, just breaking into the library, dodging Thornhill, making out in the shadowsâŠâ She shot Wednesday a teasing glance, savoring the way Wednesdayâs expression stayed carefully neutral.
Enidâs jaw dropped, her eyes going wide as she looked between the two of them. âWaitâwhat? Youâre kidding, right? Y/n, please tell me youâre joking.â
Yoko chuckled, clearly amused. âOh, Iâd believe it. Theyâve got that âjust made out and got away with itâ look.â
Wednesday, finally breaking her silence, fixed them both with her signature deadpan stare. âBelieve what you want. Y/n has aâŠvivid imagination.â
âOh, come on, Wednesday, donât be modest,â Y/n interrupted, grinning. She leaned casually against the wall, looking perfectly unbothered by their friendsâ disbelief. âI think Enid just doesnât want to believe her best friend is such a good kisser.â
Enid blushed, clearly flustered, and Yoko snickered. âIâm calling itâY/nâs telling the truth.â
Y/n shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes catching Wednesdayâs in a playful, lingering stare. âGuess itâll just stay between the two of us, then.â And with a satisfied grin, she strolled to her room, leaving Wednesday, Enid, and Yoko to process what exactly had happened.
#wednesday x reader#wednesday netflix#wednesday addams imagine#jenna ortega x fem!reader#jenna ortega x reader#tara carpenter x fem!reader#tara carpenter#wednesday reader#wednesday addams#wlw#wlw post#wednesday addams x reader
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do you have any headcanons about the other gods?
Lol naturally hehe (that's also so much lmao)
I think I'll just try to add one for each Olympian besides Athena and add links if I already made bigger posts about them. (The non-EPIC gods might get a little shorter)
Zeus: Makes the biggest gestures, in debate, at dinner, just whenever he's talking. It's great for who's sitting next to him (usually Hera and Athena respectively) bc who doesn't love being almost hit in the face every two seconds?
Poseidon: Involves himself in arguments all. the. time. Nobody cared, nobody asked, he knows like half of the facts and has no idea what the problem is but SURE shout along.
Hades: A lot more measured and chill than his brothers, but lets himself be drawn into debates and he CAN get pretty heated if the arguments get too nonsensical.
Hera: Has a massive garden and tends to it herself. It has a peacock fountain and stuff, it's really beautiful.
Demeter: Will 100% cry if she gets a gift from one of the kids.
Hestia: The best. Gives people a bit too much space sometimes. Like, yes, all her nieces and nephews are stubborn but some of them really could need a venting session or a hug down the line, but she just leaves them be. (It is not her responsibility but she wouldn't mind them venting, she just assumes they'll come themselves)
Athena post here.
Hephaestus: Is actually a really good singer (we're not talking musical world rules where everyone can sing, normal world) Like mostly it's too loud in the forge but he sings to himself anyway and he has a good voice.
Aphrodite: Is an amazing swimmer. Basing this on her ocean-born creation myth even though I am more of a fan of her being Zeus' kid for my own version. For the same reason, I always picture her with pearls
Ares post here.
Artemis: In council, I believe she's the most confrontational actually. Yes, more than Athena. Athena lies to get what she wants. Artemis doesn't live on Olympus, she just comes for the council meetings so she might as well speak her mind even if it means the meeting is even more chaos than normal. In general, she never backs down from what she believes in.
Apollo post here.
Hermes: God of eavesdropping and gossip. Seriously. Do you really have to know every single thing that's going on? Also I think his funny persona is a coping mechanism but it's so deeply ingrained it would be literally impossible to shed.
Dionysus: Randomly says the most insightful shit you've ever heard. Like, Athena is speechless levels of deep stuff. Like... is it because of the drugs or is he on drugs because otherwise his being would transcend the universe, we will never know.
__________________________________
Okay that was fun hope you enjoyed :D
#epic the musical#tasha asks#greek mythology#greek gods#athena#zeus#epic zeus#poseidon#epic poseidon#hades#hera#epic hera#demeter#hestia#ares#epic ares#epic aphrodite#aphrodite#hephaestus#epic hermes#epic hephaestus#hermes#apollo#epic apollo#artemis#dionysus#greek mythology headcanon#epic headcanon
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02âDark If âAlfons Sylvaticaâ
ê° ÖŽ Öș âč @ notice âč Öș ÖŽ ê± this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but donât repost these or claim these as your own!
â cw: implied dub-con, implied alcohol consumption, invasion of personal space.
(I-I-I...I...)
Alfons the Mirror: Youâre rather quick to wake up, arenât you. Well? Were you able to have a good dream last night?
(Why did I do such a thing... it was like Alfons was my lover...)
(Wait, like one...?)
Kate: Y-you did something to me, didnât you?
Alfons the Mirror: Why indeed I did. We did a greaaat many things under consent.
A: That said, though, you ended up falling asleep, so we didnât go all the way.
Kate: Thatâs not the point...!
Alfons the Mirror: Were you aware of my ability then? Because, yes, I did use it.
A: I am a mirror that reflects wishes and desires. I simply did what you wished for.
Kate: Whâwhy would I ever wish for something so dirty...
Alfons the Mirror: Well Iâll be... is that really so?
Though I was intoxicated, I could still remember how I ended up wanting to lean into Alfonsâ warmth.
Kate: Y-youâre the utter worst!
Alfons the Mirror: Aha, I do take a fancy to that reaction of yours. I prefer this loads over how you resembled a lost child last night.
Kate: Well, I wonât be seeking any more help from you.
Alfons the Mirror: Well then, how about I make a prediction? You will come to see me... Iâm more than sure.
I straightened out my disheveled clothes and stood up as Alfons said while sprawled on the bed...
Alfons the Mirror: Ah, and...
(...?)
Alfons the Mirror: The first cocktail you drank last night is applejack. Despite all appearances, itâs quite some strong liquor.
A: A poisoned apple may not necessarily take the form of an apple itself. Do be careful from now on.
Perhaps out of frustration, or something else entirely, my cheeks grew hot.
Kate: Thanks for the warning! And you take care of that liver of yours too, mister Alfons the Mirror!
Alfons the Mirror: ......... (O_O)
A: ...pfft, ahahaha!
Leaving that shameless parting remark, I burst out of that shady room.
(That guyâs the worst of the worst, I swear to godââ!!)
Pub master: Look at you, lady-killer. Did you have a fun time yet again? Iâm almost envious.
Alfons the Mirror: Too much fun, in fact. Though she ran away like a cat would in the end.
??? (Harry): ...Hey, donât go teasing her too much.
Alfons the Mirror: ...?
Sitting in the corner of the pub was a man, and that was all he said before disappearing into the darkness.
Pub master: So, are you gonna have a drink to wake yourself up, Alfons?
Alfons the Mirror: Yes, perhaps I will, with an applejack.
The day after I was played by the mirror, I went around on my own to find the missing thing.
But it seemed the favorite phrase of the people I asked boiled down to âmaybe youâll know if you ask Alfons?â
So in the end, I couldnât get my hands on any information, leaving me to go back to that person, much to my displeasure.
Said person was at the castle, playing on a whim with a black cat.
Alfons the Mirror: Elbie was going to add this cat to his collection, you see... but itâs a relief indeed that you wonât be subject to a taxidermy, isnât it?
Black cat: Meow...
Alfons the Mirror: And so, what brings you here?
Kate: .........ease.
Alfons the Mirror: Iâm afraid I didnât quite catch that. Speak up a little more, why donât you.
Kate: ...Help me...please...
Alfons the Mirror: With what, might I ask?
(I-I swear, this manââ!)
Kate: I need your insights, so please help me...!
Alfons the Mirror: Very well. I must say you looked quite darling just now.
While I threw him a resentful look, Alfons brought his fingers to his chin in a dramatic gesture.
Alfons the Mirror: For the record, everything I am about to say is mere speculation on my end.
A: But you are Snow White, Elbie is the Queen, Roger the Hunter, and I the Mirror.
A: Donât you think there is a missing cast member here in the story of Snow White?
(Ah...)
Kate: The prince?
Alfons the Mirror: Indeed, if you find that prince who is somewhere in this world, you may be able to return from whence you came!
Kate: Thank you so much, Alfons! Iâm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel!
Alfons the Mirror: Hardly. Then, I say we head off to search for this prince and whatnot posthaste.
Kate: Wait, youâre going to help?
Alfons the Mirror: Did I not say? I happen to very much enjoy sticking my nose into other peopleâs business without the need to take an ounce of responsibility.
And so, with Alfons, we started our search for the prince.
Alfons the Mirror: To all the candidates to be Snow Whiteâs prince, over here! Yes, thatâs it, line up in a single file.
A: Now, entry number 1. You can come up.
Candidate No.1: I-I would like to take Snow Whiteâs hand in marriage, so I can get close to Queen Elbertââ
Queen Elbert: ...Dismissed.
Alfons the Mirror: Thank you for your time. Ah, and over there are some souvenirs, so do take some with you.
Kate: Thank you for helping out so much.
K: ...But, what in the world is this!?
Alfons the Mirror: Thinking it was the most efficient way, I invited candidates from within the country. I am quite good at my job, arenât I.
Kate: I wonât deny that, but you couldâve confided in me before it happened...
K: Besides, why is Queen Elbert helping as well?
Queen Elbert: ...? Because, I was worried about you?
Alfons the Mirror: Alright then, entry number 2. You may come up.
Candidate No.2: I want to marry Snow White, and every night... hehehe...
Queen Elbert: ...Take him out of the castle grounds.
Alfons the Mirror: Yes yes, right away. Guards, if you please, throw him right out of the castle.
ââ Time skip ââ
(...That mustâve been close to 300 people, but we couldnât find even one remotely like a prince.)
The fatigue piling up on me, I started to feel more down.
(At this rate, I wonât be able to find the missing thing, and I probably wonât be able to return back to reality.)
Alfons the Mirror: Kate? Kate.
Kate: Yes... ngh, mn...
Alfons kissed me with a wet sound before he finally parted from my lips.
Kate: W-why a kiss so suddenly?
Alfons the Mirror: I was starting to grow tired of all these worthless men, so call this a cleansing of palate, if you will.
A: Oh, or are you perhaps in need of a more intensely pleasurable âcleansingâ?
Kate: Ah⊠no, we canâtâŠ
I remembered the heat from when he fondled me before, and for a moment I recalled the pleasure from that.
(But that⊠all of thatâŠ)
Alfons the Mirror: You can put all the blame on me. I simply had unfulfilled desires, and so I laid my hands upon you.
Kate: In between an audience⊠thatâs bad manners.
Alfons the Mirror: Oh dear, did you truly take me for someone who tries to uphold manners, by any chance?
A: And besides that, with that sort of phrasing, are you meaning to say doing things like this is alright if itâs in a different place?
Kate: WhâahâŠ
Alfons the Mirror: We can leave the prince hunt for tomorrow and enjoy ourselves today. How about it?
(That it would make me happy if that smile of his was not apathetic, but rather one that came from his heartâŠ)
(âŠItâs not like Iâm thinking that or anything.)
And then, a few days later, in order to invite real princes, a banquet was held at the castle.
(Urgh, if itâs real princes, that would mean theyâre nobility, right? Of course Iâd be nervousâŠ)
Alfons the Mirror: Are you finished with preparations? Well, Iâll be, donât you look wonderful.
A: That is one shameless slit, to be sure. Youâll have the princes on their knees in no time flat, I say.
Kate: H-hold on, donât touch me.
Alfons the Mirror: Goodness, whatâs there to be so stingy about?
At this point, such interactions with Alfons like this had long become a part of my every day.
I had initially felt so anxious, but now such feelings have dissipated moreâŠ
Kate: âŠYou know, recently Iâve had times when Iâve thought about what Iâm really searching for.
Alfons the Mirror: And that is to say?
Kate: I had thought finding that missing thing and correcting what made this world twisted would be the right thing to do.
K: But itâs just⊠I canât help but wonder if thatâs really the case.
The people living in this country had gone twisted and mad somewhere along the way.
After all, Queen Elbert was still searching for the most beautiful thing in this world,
and Alfons⊠he would sometimes have this severely lonely or icy look in his eyes.
But⊠there wasnât any person here that was living an entirely proper life.
And I couldnât help but feel more or less everyone was living at least a little mad.
While thinking that, I felt the sensation of fingertips tickling my back.
Kate: Eek!
Alfons the Mirror: So you no longer wish to return to reality, instead wanting to stay with me?
Kate: No way!
Alfons the Mirror: Hehe, thatâs unfortunate. Oh, and would you look at that. Itâs almost time, Snow White.
In the dance hall, princes from many different countries were gathered.
Green-eyed prince: Snow White, this dish is delectable.
Kate: Ah, thank you. Iâll partake in some.
(If it was Alfons, I imagine he wouldnât eat this sort of luxurious dish.)
ââHow rude. Iâll have you know purposefully eating crudely is what makes a noble.
Blue-eyed prince: Snow White, uhm, could we talk over there later?
Kate: Yes, of course.
(If it were Alfons, he would probably drag me off somewhere without asking first.)
ââAfter all, you donât dislike this kind of force, do you?
(âŠW-wait, whatâŠ?)
(For a while now, why was IâŠ)
Why was I trying to find Alfons in other people?
Kate: ââ!
(I⊠to Alfonsââ)
to be continuedâŠ
â prev premium bitter
ko-fi âïž â commsđ€
#in love with all the rt connections đ„čđ«¶#ikemen villains#ikevil#ă€ă±ăĄăłăŽăŁă©ăł#ikevil alfons#ikevil alfons sylvatica#alfons sylvatica#ikemen villains alfons#cybird ikemen series#cybird ikemen#cybird otome#ikemen series#otome game#otome#ikevil translation#ikevil translations#d: cafekitsune
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What It Cost
****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOUâRE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***
Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.
Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now heâs back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?
CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). All smutty warnings happen later on, so Iâll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!
Part 6 - Lilith
Noah had text her two hours ago, asking if they could talk. Again. Since then she'd been an anxious mess. Part of her was shocked he hadn't just shown up like the last time. Everything in her told him to tell him no. That there was nothing to talk about anymore. He had said he was sorry and they could go about their lives. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Couldn't bring herself to tell him to leave her alone. What the fuck was wrong with her? She should hate him. So why couldn't she?
Sadie joined her on the back porch, handing her a takeout container and a fork. Lilly couldn't help the smile at the small gesture. She'd sort of started the tradition back when the two of them had just met, always giving Sadie food from her and Noah's dates. Now it was her doing it after hers and Jolly's.
"He wants to talk."
"So, no stomach for food at the moment?" Sadie took the food back, knowing too well what happened if she ate while nervous. It wouldn't stay down long.
"I don't know what to say." Lilly sighed, her stomach starting to churn more forcefully.
"Listen," Sadie began. "I know we all know I'm still pissed at him. But, maybe hear him out? He at least seems like he's trying."
Lilly huffed out a laugh, dropping her head into her hands, elbows resting on her knees. She had expected Sadie to tell her to ignore him or to tell him to fuck off. Which almost would have guaranteed she agree to talk to him. Probably something Sadie had counted on, actually.
"I don't know-"
"Lilly, I heard him, too. He's never sounded like that. Jolly said he's been locked up in his room since." She sighed. "Maybe talk to him. If you don't want to hear what he has to say, that's fine, but at least give him a chance to do what he should have done years ago."
Sadie had a point. Never had she seen Noah like that. Sure, she had seen him close a few times when things weren't going right, but never to the point that he was on his knees, clutching his chest like that. The way he had sounded, like he was breaking. Shattering right in front of her. How unfocused his eyes had been. He hadn't been there in the present. Noah had been somewhere else in his mind.
Chewing on her bottom lip she picked up her phone, debating between texting him back and just calling him. Suddenly Sadie reached over, taking her phone from her.
"Hey!"
"Jesus. You both need to learn how to just get on with it." Sadie laughed, typing out a response for her and hitting send. "He'll probably be here soon. I'll make myself scarce."
***
Her heart leapt into her throat as she watched him pull up, her hands beginning to shake. Fuck. Right now seemed like a real good time to start smoking. Maybe she should have had some wine or something first. Either way she needed something to calm the nerves. Yet here she was empty handed, watching as he climbed out of his car, a tall iced coffee in hand. No hoodie this time. Just a pair of shorts and a plain white shirt.
She watched, helpless, as he climbed the steps onto the porch. Watched as he walked over to her, holding out the iced coffee for her. Her stomach flipped at the realization that he had brought her some kind of peace offering.
"Iced spiced chai, double shot, with a pump of pumpkin, right?" He asked, his voice soft.
"You remember my order." It wasn't a question, more of an observation than anything. Carefully, she reached out, taking the coffee from him, grateful to have something to hold. "Thank you."
Noah nodded, sitting in the chair opposite her. She had to admit to herself she was shocked that after all this time he had remembered something so small. Then again, she clearly hadn't changed much in five years if she still got the same coffee every day. Nervous, she took a sip, not daring to look up at him.
"Sorry about the other night," he started.
"I don't know. I think that's the most honest I've ever seen you, Noah," she quipped, wincing at her own harshness. "Sorry."
"No," he chuckled. "That's fair. That's really fucking fair."
"I'm not sorry that I finally was honest with you. I am, however, sorry that I started having a fucking panic attack, though."
"You're okay, though?" She asked, finally looking up at him.
Now that she looked at him she could see just how tired he was. Like he had barely slept. And deep down she felt bad for him. And maybe a little guilty. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hard on him the other night.
"Honestly? Been better. But, comes with the territory, I suppose."
The two of them sat there, a heavy silence falling between them. There he was, being honest again. The Noah she had known would have said he was fine. He would have skirted around the issue entirely and made a stupid joke.
"Listen, Bambi. I fucked up. Royally. You didn't deserve any of the shit that I did. Even the stuff you overlooked from the start." He grimaced, remembering some of the shit he had done.
"Noah-"
"Nope. Not done. You are also the first person I should have reached out to once I got sober. Instead I've been too chicken shit, as Nicholas loves to point out, to face you because the shit I put you through at the end? That was beyond fucked up. Like, way beyond. I was doing shit just to hurt you. And you deserved better. You still deserve better."
Lilith sat there, gripping the coffee he had brought her, feeling like she was going to vomit. Tears blurred her vision, her mind racing. Here he was, giving her more of an apology than she had ever thought she would get. And as much as she wanted to be angry, she just couldn't anymore. She wanted to scream and yell and call him an asshole, but the anger and the words just wouldn't come. Where did she go from here?
Tag: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard
#bad omens cult#noah sebastian fanfiction#noah sebastian#bad omens fanfiction#noah sebastian smut#angst#noah sebastian angst#noah sebastian fic#fluff#noah sebastian fluff
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hello hello! I've never requested stuff before so i hope I'm doing this right lol, I'm wondering if i can request something tender and fluffy for follower sword x reader?
i just wanna hold that man in my arms bro, and your writing is just so peak
summary - follower sword x reader hcs. ur both phighters, uninetionally a little aut4aut coded woops
misc - thank you so much ! im glad you enjoy my writing .. smiles .. apologies if this is a little lackluster or inaccurate, this beast is weird. also yay first request !
-To say dating Sword can be a little unconventional is an understatement. More than once have people shot you a look once you told them who your partner is. Regardless, you wouldn't have it any other way and neither would Sword.
-Usually, people are confused as to how you guys got together in the first place. He's not exactly a social butterfly and he definitely comes off as threatening to most people, but there's no dramatic story to be found here, unfortunately. You just met him during a phight like most other people.
The match had been close, both teams were neck and neck for the point by now. It was a mad dash to get on the point or die trying, leaving more than a few people to try and make a run for it before falling to the other team the moment they were within a few feet. Every route lead to the same choking point, funneling everybody into a sea of flying bullets and swinging blades. Eventually, you noticed the crowd begin to thin as several people traded or finally picked someone on the other side off. If there was ever an opening, this was it. Stealing away from the corner you'd hidden in, you ran for the point, just barely dodging stray attacks before your feet touched the objective. The timer resumed in your teams favor, much to the other teams frantic irritation. A few of your teammates had bullied onto the objective just after you, helping fend off the incoming vigor of the enemy team in a last bid for the win, but it still wasn't enough. One got picked off, then another, and then another after that, then it was just you again. They'd gotten picks of their own and one had traded, but it still left you outnumbered. Given the exhaustion curling up your spine to lay heavy in your head and the dread of an inevitable loss hanging off your hands, you weren't winning this. Someone on the other team pushed towards you. You were slow on the uptake, pulling your gear just a few seconds too late through the fog of weariness. Practically in slow motion, you watched them reel back to swing, made to block it yourself, and a pale blade stick itself in the ground just between you two. With hands already raised, quickly identifing the blade's source, you instead made to cover your eyes before the flashing light could blind you. Where the once constant growl of battle had become ringing in your ears, there was silence. Peeking out behind your arms, there was nobody. It wouldn't last long, you knew that, but you finally felt as though you had a moment to breathe. Just a few seconds left. You could make out careful footsteps behind you, leaving you to whip your head around to the source. Instead of Shuriken or Scythe popping out to break the peace, you saw Sword. You hadn't seen too much of him that match, seemingly being focused on different areas (bitterly, you thought of asking him why he hadn't been helping you with the objective, but a better part of you decided against it.), but you were thanking the Heights he was on your team now. "Thanks for the help, you're a life saver," You hummed, smiling at him. He didn't return the gesture, hell, you aren't even sure he looked at you, given the lack of pupils. Faintly, you picked up some little grunt he made, a show of acknowledgement. That was enough for you. You turned back forwards, vaguely noting how he stopped next to you. Maybe he was tired too? You're sure he was focusing on trying to beat the other team into the ground for the match, so you wouldn't be surprised. The timer reached its peak, signalling your team's win. Neither of you made a sound, even as you picked up on your other teammates celebrating off in the distance. The air stayed peaceful, weight lifting off of you as you stood side-by-side. Nothing more needed to be said.
-Afterwards, you did your best to return the favor, though he rarely needed it. You would provide support in the ways you could, pointing a healer in his direction when he was in rough shape and picking off extra opponents if he was outnumbered. Where you'd expected to just help him out once or twice and consider the IOU paid off, he would return the aid right back. Without thinking about it, you two started to hover around eachother.
-He wasn't sure why he did it, just that, at some point, he began to think of you more than he needed to. It was good to know where your teammates were and what their status was, but he certainly didn't need to be worrying this much over an individual. Nevertheless, he would still check in on you, sending long glances your direction whenever you were nearby as a quick assesment of your condition.
-Even before matches you two would find eachother, sitting quietly as you two prepared for the upcoming phight. Sometimes, you would ramble to him as he listened wordlessly, only humming every now and then to let you know he was still paying attention (a habit he'd picked when his silence had lead you to trail off in the past).
-The first time you'd ever mentioned hanging out with him outside of a phight, he'd declined, if only out of unfamiliarity. He wasn't used to getting such direct, personal invites to be apart of other people's lives like that. It stuck in his head for a few days, the question of why you'd thought to pick him speficially rattling around in the back of his head.
-Eventually, he would be the one to invite you out. It wasn't anything special and, in all honesty, it was probably just to walk around. Nothing all that entertaining, but he didn't care about the activity as much as he did having more time to hear you talk.
-Likewise, the confession (after a long time of him sorting out his feelings, he still didn't totally understand how he felt once you two got together but he knew you were greatly important to him), was pretty mundane. You're probably the one to do it since he's not super familiar with the concept, at least not beyond a surface level understanding of what it looks like for other people. To you two, it's an intimate moment: you trust him enough to open yourself up to rejection and he cares about you enough to make clear he's interested in you as well. To others, it's a very blunt, robotic moment on his part contrasting to your obvious sentiment. Oh well.
-Anyhow, as for how you to interact once you get together, it's more of the same. A lot of the time, you two are just existing with one another. It would come off as uncaring if it weren't for him seeking you out just to be in your company, even if you're not interacting in any way. He just likes having you there, you make him feel whole in a strange way, something about your presence makes him feel like some wrong has been righted.
-He's a little nosy about your hobbies. If you're reading a book he wants you to tell him about it, if you're making something he wants to know how you're doing it, so on, so forth. He doesn't know why, he just likes to know everything he can about you. If we allow the more sentimental wording to fall, you're like a specimen he needs to learn about and put under a microscope, lovingly.
-His love language, other than time, is gifting things to you, actually. Most times it's odd trinkets he comes across that remind him of you, but its the thought that counts. He takes the utmost care for them to not get ruined before he can gift them to you and you can just barely notice him stand a little straighter when you happily take them. If you have a spot for all the things he's given you, he admires it with pride every time, blame it on bird instincts.
-He often just calls you by your name, he just doesn't think any nickname compares to your actual name. That's the title of the person he loves, what else could compare?
-It takes him a while to warm up to physical affection, so give him some time with that. Once he's settled into a relationship with you, he's a lot more open to any touch you give. He most enjoys whenever you lean on him, he enjoys being someone you can count on for support and comfort. On his part, he's a sucker for you holding his face in your hands, something about it just feels so tender. The way your hands cradle his head just feels so soothing.
-The first time he says 'I love you,' is a whisper, but don't let that fool you into thinking their meaning is any smaller. It's a total declaration of his heart to you, how could he not mean it when you're the light of his life?
#phighting x reader#sword x reader#phighting sword x reader#roblox x reader#mod writes#follower sword x reader
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đđđđđđ đđđđđ đđđ
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đđđđđđđđđđ: Given sheâs an officer and enforcer of the law, sheâs bound to have some sort of disciplining kink. Her favourite thing to do (other than sex) is to spank you silly when you act out of line. Bonus points if youâre from Zaun.
đđđđđđđ: Caitlynâs a freaky gal at heart. So a bit of bondage during sex is an almost must. Thereâs something about seeing you in handcuffs that gets her motor humming, and even more so if youâre playing the role of a criminal that needs to be brought to justice.
đđđđđđ: Again, this is part and parcel of the whole discipline kink. To punish you for being bad, she takes glee in edging you for hours, building your orgasm up just to stop and leave you high and dry. And when youâre finally good enough, sheâs kind to grant you a mindbreaking orgasm thatâll have you trembling.
đđ
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đđđđđđđ: Viâs a service top. Itâs in her blood to want to serve those who matter the most to her. So as her lover, youâre in for a lovely treatâhead. And god, is her head amazing. She knows how to have you coming on her mouth over and over without it getting boring. Sheâll gladly eat you out the entire night while she grinds against the mattress for any release.
đđđđđđ: Sheâs a sucker for sweet words. Praise gets her going, in and out of bed. Good girl? Sheâs weak in the knees. My girl? Folded. If you want her to fuck you into next week a few praises sprinkled here and there will have her insatiably horny for you.
đđđđ đđđđđđđ: Vi loves hair. Not hers, she couldnât care less about her hair. But your hair? Sheâs allll over it. Burying her nose in it, carding her fingers through the silky strands, itâs heaven. Especially when sheâs tugging your hair back as you plead for more.
đđđđđđ
đđđđđđđđ: Sevika is a busy woman. She doesnât have time to go the whole nine yards, so best bet her favourite thing to do are quickies. In her office (or Silcoâs), any few minutes alone she can get something done with you. Hell, give her a minute and she could probably make you come.Â
đđđđđđđ: She is a person to be respected and feared. So nothing feeds her ego more than to gently wrap her larger hand around your neck and lightly press down. Itâs a small gesture, sure, but it gives her power over you. Nothing satisfies her more.
đđđđđ đđđđ: Best believe she has a filthy mouth. She knows all the right words to turn you on, so utterly debauching that you could come just from hearing her sultry words. When you two do have time to indulge in one another, her foreplay is just murmuring in your ear till youâre begging for her to touch you.
đđđ
đđđđđđ đđđđđđđđ: As a high-ranking councillor, Mel has everything at her very fingertips. Call her spoiled, but sheâs never really had to work for much, other than being a councillor. So what makes you think sheâll put in the effort to be a top? Besides, receiving is more her thing anyway.
đđđđđđđđđđđ: She likes it tender and gentle, being a woman of class. Mel is all for gentle lovemaking and sharing whispers of love and adoration, entangled with you in the sheets. She loves you and you love her, so take it slow if you must. She has all the time in the worldâŠ
đđđđđđđđđ: Sheâs a high ranking woman in Piltover, of course sheâs going to have an authority kink. Like Sevika, having power over people makes her pleased, you above all. Sheâll tell you how to please her and make sure that itâs done right. She has standards.
đđđđ
đđđđ đđđđđđđ: She thinks that she only knows how to ruin everything she touches of even comes close to. Not with you. Youâre different. Let her worship you and your body like the unbreakable temple it isâyouâre all she has left, anyway.
đđđđđđđđđđ: Be gentle with a traumatised soul like hers. Her visions scare her, and you must be her rock. Jinx is as fragile as glass, so treat her as such during lovemaking. Tell her you love her. Tell her youâll never leave (you better not) and tell her that sheâs all you need.
đđđđđđđ: Jinx is a playful character at heart. Even through everything, she can find a way to joke around. Her favourite way to tease you is by suggestive touches, her breath ghosting across your skin. The more flustered you get, the more pleased she is.
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Lycan 19 â werewolf hs
Y/N Y/L/N returns to her hometown, Alsfield, when her father falls ill, only to discover the town hides a dark secretâone protected by the mysterious Harry Styles. As Y/N unravels the town's mysteries, her plans to return to San Francisco are derailed.Â
check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all chapters, various one shots like The Cover and much more :)
--> lycan masterlist <--
The autumn air was crisp and refreshing as Y/N sat outside a quaint little café, sipping on a cool drink. The sun cast a warm golden hue over the small town, creating a serene atmosphere. She could feel the gentle breeze tousling her hair, a harbinger of the coming colder days.
The town was bustling with activity, people going about their day with purpose. Y/N watched as leaves gently fluttered to the ground, their colors turning from vibrant greens to rich hues of red, orange, and gold. It was a beautiful sight, a reminder of the changing seasons.
Taking another sip of her drink, Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the peaceful moment. She could hear the distant chatter of people passing by, the occasional car driving past, and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.
Lost in her thoughts, she thought about everything that had happened since she arrived in this town. The pack, Harry, the recent argumentsâthey all swirled in her mind, creating a whirlwind of emotions.
But right now, in this moment, Y/N allowed herself to simply be. To enjoy the simple pleasure of a cold drink on a warm autumn day. She took a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill her lungs, and exhaled slowly, feeling a sense of calm wash over her.
"Sit, please. I enjoy the company," Y/N invited Aiden, gesturing to the empty chair beside her.
Aiden smiled warmly and picked up his drink, settling into the chair next to her. "Thank you. It's a lovely day, isn't it?" he remarked, his voice friendly and inviting. Y/N nodded, glancing around the bustling street, noticing the small shops with their colorful displays, the cheerful chatter of people enjoying their day, and the distant sound of music playing from somewhere nearby.
âI am sure that the sunset will be just breathtakingâ She followed Aiden's gaze towards the horizon where the sun was beginning its descent. "It's a shame about the curfew, though. I used to love watching sunsets and waiting until the sky turned that deep, dark blue before heading home," he said, taking another sip of his drink.
"What do you mean curfew?" Y/N asked, genuine surprise in her voice. She had no idea that a curfew had been installed. Harry hadn't mentioned anything about it to her.
Aiden looked at her, a faint furrow forming between his brows. "The curfew that Alpha Harry announced because of the murders," he explained, his voice tinged with concern. "It's just to keep us safe."
Y/N's eyes widened in realization as the gravity of the situation settled in. "Murders?" she echoed, her heart skipping a beat. "What murders?"
âIsabella? Patrick's oldest daughter," Aiden began, his voice heavy with sorrow. "He used to be the omega. She was murdered a few days ago, and her body was found in the woods."
Y/N felt her heart drop at the news, shock and disbelief washing over her. Isabella, Patrick's daughter, murdered? It was almost too much to comprehend. She had only met Patrick a few times, but the thought of his daughter meeting such a tragic end filled her with sadness.
"I... I didn't know," Y/N managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the news settled heavily on her shoulders, and she couldn't shake the feeling of sorrow that washed over her.
Aiden reached out, placing a comforting hand on her arm. "I'm sorry, Luna" he said softly, his eyes reflecting the pain of the loss. "I thought you knew."
Y/N shook her head, unable to find the words to express the grief and shock she felt. Isabella, a young girl whose life had been cut short so tragically. It was a cruel and senseless act of violence that left her reeling.
"Thank you for telling me," Y/N finally managed to say, her voice thick with emotion. She appreciated Aiden's honesty, even if the news was devastating.
Aiden nodded, his expression somber. "Of course. I just thought you should know," he said, his voice filled with sympathy. âYou should stay safe. We wouldnât want anything to happen to youâ.
Y/N took a moment to compose herself before standing up from the table. The weight of the news lingered heavy on her heart, and she knew she needed to talk to Harry about this.
"Thank you, Aiden," she said, offering him a small, grateful smile. "I appreciate you telling me."
Aiden nodded, standing up as well. "Anytime," he said, his eyes filled with understanding.
As Y/N made her way back towards the pack house, her mind was filled with thoughts of Isabella and the tragedy that had befallen her. She couldn't shake the feeling of sorrow and anger that welled up inside her. She needed to talk to Harry, to find out why he hadn't told her about this, and to make sure that justice was served for Isabella.
"Where have you been?" Niall interrogated her as she crossed the front door of the pack house. "Weâve been looking for you all day!" His tone was stern, laced with concern and a hint of anger. He couldn't fathom why she had left without a word, especially given the recent events in the pack.
Y/N felt a pang of guilt at Niall's words, realizing that she had caused worry among the pack members. "I'm sorry, Niall," she began, her voice filled with remorse. "I just needed some time to clear my head."
Niall's expression softened slightly, understanding flickering in his eyes. "I get it, but you can't just disappear like that, especially now," he said, his tone gentler but still firm.
"Where is Harry?" Y/N asked, determined to find him despite the message she received.
"He's in his study," Niall replied, watching as Y/N swiftly made her way upstairs.
Y/N climbed the steps two at a time, her heart pounding in her chest. She needed to talk to Harry, to clear the air and get some answers. The news about Isabella's death had shaken her to the core, and she couldn't shake the feeling that Harry was keeping something from her.
As she reached the top of the stairs, Y/N made a beeline for Harry's study. The door was closed, but she didn't hesitate to knock firmly.
"Come in," Harry's voice called from inside.
Y/N pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Harry was seated behind his desk, a stack of papers in front of him. His expression was unreadable as he looked up at her.
"We need to talk," Y/N said, her voice firm despite the nervous flutter in her stomach.
Harry raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering over her face. "About what?" he asked, his tone guarded.
"About Isabella," Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I heard what happened, and I want to know why you didn't tell me."
Harry's expression softened slightly, a flicker of guilt passing over his features. "I was going to tell you," he began, his voice low. "But I didn't want to worry you."
Y/N's frustration bubbled to the surface, her emotions raw. "Worry me?" she repeated, her voice rising slightly. "Harry, she was part of our pack! How could you not tell me something like this?"
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I didn't want to upset you," he admitted, his voice filled with remorse. "And I didn't want you to feel unsafe."
Y/N took a step closer to him, her eyes locking with his. "I appreciate your concern, but I can handle the truth," she said, her voice firm. "I want to be part of this pack. I want to help."
Harry's gaze softened, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "I know," he said softly. "And I'm sorry for keeping it from you. I just... I didn't know how to tell you."
Y/N felt a surge of empathy for Harry, understanding the weight of his responsibilities as Alpha. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm, the warmth of his skin grounding her.
"I guess itâs fine" she said gently, her voice filled with reassurance. "Just stop hiding things from me"
Harry looked up at her, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you," he said sincerely, his voice filled with emotion.
Y/N gave him a small smile, feeling a sense of unity between them. "Now, tell me everything," she said, her voice firm. "I want to know what's going on."
"Alright," Harry began, his voice steady as he recounted the events of the past few days. "This all started a few weeks ago, before Isabella was murdered. We found another body in the woods, but we haven't been able to identify them."
Y/N's eyes widened in shock, her heart pounding in her chest. "Another body?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Harry nodded, his expression grave. "Yes. It seemed to be another rogue wolf, but we couldn't determine their identity. The scent was faint, but it was there."
Y/N felt a chill run down her spine, the realization sinking in. "And you think this rogue is responsible for both attacks?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.
Harry sighed, his shoulders tense with the weight of the situation. "It's possible," he admitted. "The similarities between the attacks suggest that it could be the same rogue."
Y/N's mind raced with thoughts and fears, the danger looming over their pack feeling all too real. "What are we going to do?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Y/N listened intently as Harry described the scene, his words painting a grim picture in her mind. The brutality of the attack made her stomach churn, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of anger and sadness.
Harry nodded, his expression grim. "we've been tracking the scent ever since. But it's been difficult. The rogue seems to be skilled at covering their tracks."
Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, the thought of a dangerous rogue wolf lurking in their territory sending chills through her. "Have you found anything else?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Not yet," he admitted. "But we're doing everything we can to find them before anyone else gets hurt."
âWhat can I do to help?â She asked, worried about the situation and the safety of the rest of the pack.
"Y/N," Harry began, his eyes locking with hers. "The best thing you can do right now is to stay close. We need to keep each other safe."
Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. "Of course," she said, her voice steady despite the fear that gripped her. "I'll stay by your side."
Harry reached out and gently cupped her face in his hands, his touch warm and comforting. "And there's one more thing," he said, his voice soft but firm. "I need to mark you."
Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in surprise. "Mark me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Harry nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Yes," he said, his voice filled with determination. "It will help strengthen the bond between us, and it will make sure that I can always find you, no matter what."
Y/N felt a surge of emotion wash over her, the gravity of Harry's words sinking in. She knew what being marked meant, both physically and emotionally. It was a symbol of their connection, a pledge of loyalty and protection.
"Okay," she said, her voice barely audible. "I trust you."
#harry#harrystyles#harry imagine#harry styles imagine#harry fanfic#harry fanfiction#harry fic#harry styles fanfic#harry x you#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry blurb#harry imagines#harry x y/n#harry x reader#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry au#harry styles au#harry one shot#harry styles smut#niall horan#harry styles fic#1direction
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From my caitvi fantasy royalty au on ao3:
The royal family of Zaun were shown to their suites, and Caitlyn was left alone, left wondering how she was going to survive this week if that was what the Zaunite crown princess looked like. Gods, her combined beauty, confidence, and strength sent butterflies aflutter in Caitlynâs belly.
No. Focus. Sheâs a guest, and you have to be regal about it.
Caitlyn simply needed to survive the next seven days, and then Princess Violet would depart, and everything would return to normal. In the meantime, Caitlyn would avoid her; that would be enough to keep her safe from her ownâ
âGoing somewhere, princess?â
Caitlyn felt the husky voice deep in her core. By the gods, someone so noticeable should not be able to appear out of nowhere. It felt wrong. She straightened her spine, smoothed the front of her gown, and turned toward the other princess. âI have nowhere else to be,â Caitlyn said, which was technically true. Her parents had forbidden her from leaving the palace grounds while their guests from Zaun were here.
Princess Violet scanned her from toe to head, that storm-gray gaze too perceptive. âDoesnât mean you werenât looking for an escape route.â
âI have nothing to escape.â A lie. âIâm grateful for the peace.â That bit was true, actually, and she expected it to make for an easy agreement for them to bond over.
âHmm,â said Violet, which was not an agreement. How odd.
So Caitlyn pushed, because of who she was as a person. âYouâre not?â
Violet shrugged, a casual gesture. âPeople lie to get what they want. I donât expect the ceasefire to last long. But sure, itâs nice.â
Hot offense rose in Caitlynâs chest. You canât say that. Not here. Not when we worked so hard for the violence to end. âItâs done. The war is over.â
âUntil your parents decide Zaun has something else they want.â
The old books. Piltover overreaching. Her entire kingdomâs air of superiority. Violet was right, and Caitlyn hated it. âItâs over , and I wonât let it happen again,â she said fiercely. âNo matter what it takes.â
At that, Violet looked Caitlyn over again, as if for the first time. âYou really mean that, donât you,â she said, brows lifting in surprise.
âI donât say things I donât mean.â
Violet actually scrunched her nose in sympathy. âCourt life must be tough for you, then.â
Caitlyn faltered. It was, actually. In a way she rarely acknowledged outside of her own head. âIs it difficult for you as well?â
Violet met her gaze, and there was turmoil in those twinned storms. The silence stretched between them for a long moment, but finally Violet admitted, âI prefer being elsewhere.â
Interest sparked like a flint. Caitlyn wanted to know more about the other princess. âWhat do you like to do, then?â
âI like the library.â Violet leaned against the stone wall. âSometimes Iâll train with the knights. I have a cellar, too, where I can practice my magic alone.â
Magic!
Caitlyn glowed at the introduction of her special interest. âDo you craft the spells yourself?â
âThatâs the way we do it,â Violet said. âYou donât, though, right? You only use preapproved spell scrolls?â
Caitlyn hesitated. If word got out about Caitlynâs homebrew spellwork, all her plans could collapse. âTraditionally, yes. What types of spells do you like to make?â
Violet fisted a hand, jabbed at the air. âOffensive mostly. Itâs what Iâm best at.â
Caitlyn bounced on the balls of her feet. She desperately wanted to ask if Violet knew any spellmasters. Surely she had those kinds of connections. But the request would reveal too much, too soon. So instead she said, âWhere do you store your spell scrolls? How many are there?â
âI have probably thirty that are worth mentioning. I just keep them in my chambers.â
Thirty handcrafted spells already? âHow impressive!â
Violet waved this away. âA lot of people are much more accomplished. Itâs just a hobby.â
Itâs not just a hobby. Tell me more. Tell me everything.
But Caitlyn couldnât say anything. It wasnât safe to share.
Violet counted on her fingers, muttering to herself. âWeâre here for a week, and then your court is coming to Zaun for a week, right?âÂ
âAs I understand it.â
âMaybe when you visit, I can show you my practice space.â
The offer hung in the air. Caitlyn ached to grab for it, to hold on, to dig her nails in to prevent Violet from taking it back. She was feral with the need to watch Violet work. âThat would be delightful,â she said, trying to sound normal about it.
Violet smiled for the first time since sheâd arrived, and the light of it heated Caitlyn from the inside. It was more dangerous than any spell, that smile.
Heart in her throat, Caitlyn looked away. âI should be going,â she said, and it was an obvious retreat. âI have, erm, duties. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to make your stay here more comfortable, Princess Violet?â
Violet huffed out a low laugh. âSure.â
âLovely. What is it?â
The Zaunite heir winked at her. âYou can call me Vi.â
Xenaâs Share Day
todays a free day! have something you wanna share? hereâs your chance, doesnât matter what it is!! lemme see it!
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the fact that iâm seeing these zionists saying they will unstan nct because taeyong and renjun told people to boycott and itâs crazy bc it in hindsight itâs bare minimum but to these people itâs like the world is ending for them bc it means that isnotreal is losing the importance it used to have and it affects these people believe it or not
#i also saw this fan letter that was from a zionist army#it was when the first fan letter project happened#and one of the things they said was like âplease keep being silentâ and#trust me these people know that idols being silent is good for them#it means they are siding with them in a way#thatâs why itâs important for them to speak up and risk it all#these people shouldnât be in fandoms spaces to begin with#and if more people do these gestures they will leave for sure#tris.txt
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[walking around, peering into people's faces like i'm in an art exhibit] hm. nice
#just me hi#it's a give and take system and baby WHY am i standing in for the free samples cart#[dies dies]#<- irrelevant to the main body but oh man. oh mannngngnghfjs#//nice thing anyway; we're going to the beach :D#it's been like a year or so since we've been so yippee :DD#i like going to the center of the lake and waiting for the boats to make big waves lol#sure it makes it harder to get back to shore but in the meantime i get to go wheeee hfbhs#that and if you swim out far enough nobody will bother to swim to you. untouchable gfbsh#just water and water and water and oh hello dragonfly and water and that kid just fell headfirst into the shallow water and water and#:>>#//in other news too: i am like.. one 5th done with the third ref lolđđ#it IS a bog. but at least it's a nicer bog ykno hfsh ?#//how funny would it be if they found atlantis at the bottom of like. a random lake#you know how underwater caverns are! but it would be neat hbfhv :3#i don't mean any of the great lakes either; it's completely sensical that you'd lose a city in there. why would you leave it on the coast#dummy?? the water Will eat everything#unlike the earth; which only gets aggressive cravings now and then. and that's only cuz she's doing all this moving. she's earned it hfbsh#/also question. if our planet ate another planet would anybody here have a problem with that [wide gesturing towards you]#because you would have to assume it's natural. How and Why Else would a planet be eating another planet ?? plus. what if the chances are#high that it fixes all our problems lol. 'why are you asking this' see that's a good question. and every now and then there are questions w#leave to people of a more scientific or philosophical turn of mind. not me. i'm the 'do you support mother earth eating other planets whole#questions guy :) an important role in some states of being lol#//anywho i gotta get on my things. you know. the things? and the stuffs. lotta those going on. lots of things. and stuffs :)#and i don't wanna count my tags again lol - i think i'm in the mid-twenties but let's not be too sure about that hfhvhsh#so ciao toodles. i will most likely be back with some family-answers to the planet-eating question#byyyye :3
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finally homeeeee oh god. week 2 of law school done and it's hitting like an 18 wheeler. the thing they dont tell u about going 2 school for reading and discussing the faults of society is that when u finally get a break from reading and discussing the faults of society ur brain refuses to use any horsepower even remotely related to reading or the faults of society so u simply. Marinate. on the bright side though im totally free for the weekend!
#i am a VEGETABLE.. that was like only 4 days too đ#also eating vegetables for the first time in what feels like forever but was probably like wednesday#friends want to do brunch and another friend wants to do coffee this weekend but a) seb also b) i don't know if i have the#will to leave my apartment KJNDKJNSDKFNDSKJFNDSJKFN#i'm sure things will get better as i get more familiar with the schedule... i like the routine of not doing anything when i get home alread#but idk if that's sustainable. maybe i just need to buy snacks and keep them on campus for later nights#definitely need to figure out how to split the readings so i'm not doing. 80 pages of theory a night#but already i've got them by classes and each class has around the same work of 30-40 pages a night... ++ revision of class materials#we haven't even rlly gotten into supreme court cases yet either it's mostly been This Is Why The Civil Code of Quebec [GESTURES] &#introductions to how each field exists in common law legal traditions & let's unpack everything canada's#ever done wrong to the indigenous peoples in a social political cultural and legal sense#droopy cat dot jpeg maybe the busy-ness is just how it is.. not even counting my extracurriculars though ):#loving the overall experience hashtag grateful. but also: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
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Suddenly everything they've been arguing before no longer mattered, not when this was more important than whatever he was feeling, the grip on his hand evident of the distress she was in. Long placing the food back aside, Ashton winced as he forced himself up with his bad hand just so he could be there with her, to anchor her back down as she began to spiral. "Charlie.. hey," he softly called before pulling her to face him, letting go to rub her back, making sure they kept eye contact, "hey, look at me? Breathe." He took in an audible deep breath holding it for a second or two before exhaling with her, despite the ache in his body he continued with her until the hyperventilation calmed.
He continued to speak once the panic started to slowly dissolve from the air between them, "whatever the test says, you're gonna be okay," and he'll do his damn-dest till his very last breath to make sure she was. "Well.. have you spoken to Roman?" Seemingly not, but Ash asked the obvious questions in hopes to rationalize some of her fears and parsing through them, "I know he won't be. And like you said.." he paused with a tilted gesture of his head towards the direction of the other quarantine suite across the hall, "he's here now, isn't he?" Ashton himself tries to avoid getting himself involved in other people's relationships, and so despite being there for Charlie and a simmering anger for Roman leaving her the way he did, Ash can't deny that he understood and empathized with Roman's why. More so than others. Partially why he was eager to get out there to get them home.
"..go on. You're done with rations right? That's breakfast, I'm rationed," he chuckled despite not eating much of it, knowing she would've waited for the absolutely last few rations left seeing if Ash would've come down before storming up here. He mustered enough of a smile, "go, I'll be fine," even if he wasn't, she had more important things to focus on than him and Ash knows as much as he wants to help her, he's not the one she needs right now. "It'll be okay.. and if it isn't, well- you know where to find me. I only need one good hand to kick his ass."
Turning back to him with a little nod, Charlie did return to his side she didn't sit, though, far too nervous to now. In fact, she could hardly stand still on her spot, shifting from foot to foot. Letting a sigh of relief leave her at his promise, she let him take her hand, her own returning the grip with a crushingly white knuckled hold despite the tiny size of her hands.
"I have... I got...." Taking a few deep breaths to try and calm herself, she shook her head at him. "I have a couple already." From Sada, but she figured that didn't need to be said right now. "I just-... I couldn't-.... I mean I don't think I could handle it if- it- it- said. And he would be out there" The panic starting to rise again as she forced herself to confront her emotions, her breaths started to come fast and shallow, head spinning with the implications.
"He's here now, Ashton... and I still don't know if I can-..." She hadn't even seen him yet, had planned on it after she'd finished rations. "What if he's upset?"
#disgustingly whacks that back at you as i sob#my heart hurting for her#ch: Charlie#;Charlie11#p: absence only makes the heart hurt#;apt905#;March24th
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#lowkey wanna delete those discussion posts because it feels like im presenting but no one's in the room#or if they are they're staring at me#the silence is incredibly awkward and i just wanna leave because it's so mortifying#hate that i dropped some bombshells in the story and there was like... very little reaction#or reactions during the whole update#so its like well shit what am i doing wrong#it doesn't make sense because the polls i made concerning the story got more of a response -- 16 people!!#maybe ppl like pushing button#i would just like some feedback or something; is that too much to ask for#yes i KNOW i shouldn't expect etc etc etc but come on#i dont think anyone's in the history of ever has come to my inbox about something story related or eagerly awaiting#anon is *extremely* on#or offering some perspective/picking up the proverbial bread crumbs/guessing on a future thing#i care a lot obviously#obviously everything's for me but on the other hand yknow *vague gesture*#it just feels like im just forcing it with all of the tzrs and everything and im *sure* it's annoying to someone#so idk man#it sucks that i wanna talk about shit but it feels like 'well anyway'#and maybe i am just too harsh on myself and maybe a little impatient and my expectations are too high for myself#i am having a bad brain time and i wish i can dunk this bitch into some water and scrub it#dw i'll be fine but it's just something that i noticed#vent post
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pen pal simon - original post
every day after work, you found yourself sat at your desk attempting to write back a response to the soldier who referred to himself as âghostâ. crumpled up stationary surrounded your desk space, along with different types of pens as you obsessed over your handwriting. if one letter of your penmanship looked wrong, the paper would become another ball added to the collection of half written letters that contained slightly different, if not the same, wording in response to the thank you letter from ghost.
the simple questions he asked to get to know you suddenly felt like the hardest questions to answer, as if you were being graded on the facts about yourself. was he going to find your hobbies boring? maybe your hobbies were boring the more you read your response. the easiest question to answer was regarding how long you had been doing the care packages - a few years since one of your friends had a significant other that joined the military. stories often mixed with people who received packages and cards from family members frequently, but the ones where some received little to none are the ones that made you upset. so, you had decided to explain that to ghost and it was probably the easiest response of them all to write out. not single moment did the pen leave the paper for you to collect your thoughts or how to word your answer.
but then, you continued to answer the questions he asked you, and in return you asked him similar or different ones. again, you werenât positive he would reply this time around, but you figured youâd still return the gesture of asking him questions as well. and when you finished writing it all, reading through it god only knows how many times for errors, you finally slipped it into an envelope. this time, no âtreatsâ were included, instead you had opted to ask him if he had any favorites, that way if he did end up writing you back then you could buy him what he preferred.
and after you mailed out the letter, you pushed the thought of it to the side to try and forget about it. but, you couldnât deny every time you arrived home and checked the mail you were secretly hoping there was a response. but then a few weeks went by and there really was no response waiting mixed in with your other mail.
then after almost two months, after a shit day at work, you didnât even think twice as you grabbed the mail and walked into your home. going through the motions of your routine - showering, cooking dinner and anything else you had to take care of, you finally sat at the counter towards the end of the night to sort through the mail. a small card was tucked between a bunch of other trash mail, your eyes immediately recognizing the handwriting. quickly, you opened up the envelope and sure enough, that same notebook paper was tucked into it, this time three pieces of paper unfolded in your hands.Â
..itâs been quite hectic over where iâm currently at, so sorry for the lack of my respondingâŠ
...iâm a bit upset of the lack of treats, it definitely beats what we have to eat sometimes.
the reason you do the packages is quite sweet. is your friendsâ partner still alive? you use the past tense when you speak of them. sorry if that is rude to ask.
you read every word of the letter, not once, but twice. and he didnât just read your response to his, he took notice of the small details. you didnât even realize you had used the past tense, but he wasnât wrong in his assumption either when he thought they might have passed. it was like reading a full blown conversation he had to himself in his head; the way before or after some sentences, he would write out interjections. some sentences were followed by parentheses where he made his own little comment as well about what he had just written.
again, i hope you forgive my delayed response. hope it doesnât stop you from writing back. donât always have the time, but promise iâll get back to you. maybe in your next letter you can send me a picture of yourself, i think it would be nice to put a face to the name that signs off on these. i canât do the same, but iâll find a way to make up for that. âtil the next letter, ghost.
and while you didnât get started writing your response that night, you did make your way to your room with a smile on your face. excitement was already brewing about what you would say in your response and the next anticipated response he would give back, even if he did take a bit to respond.
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley fluff#simon riley cod#simon riley x reader fluff#simon ghost riley x reader fluff#simon ghost riley fluff#ghost cod#call of duty#nic talks ghost#simon ghost riley x reader
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the newlyweds
Pairing ËË°âą*ââ· Logan Howlett x fem!reader (Flux)
a/n: I wrote this at 3 AM and I'm also pretty sure I'm sick, so bare with me. Based on this: ask
You know Logan can't stand you, but it doesn't stop the way you feel about him. Your mind recognizes the hate in his eyes whenever you're in the same room, but your heart can't. Finally, you come to terms with the truth: it's never gonna happen. However, your newfound resolve is flipped on its head when you're forced to go undercover with him as newlyweds. Your new wedding ring is a noose and you don't know how you'll survive it or him.
You stumble forward as someone knocks into you from behind. Their shoulder jams painfully into your ribcage and you trip into the wall in front of you. âShit,â you hiss, rubbing your back and turning around to glare at whoever it was. You figure it's a kid skipping class, imagine your surprise when itâs a fully grown man practically growling at you.Â
âWhere the hell am I?â He darts forward, grabbing you by the arms and jerking you towards him. âWho are you people?â Youâre stunned into silence, eyes wide with shock as he pushes your spine into the wall behind you.Â
You recognize him now. This is the man who was with Rogue in the truck you, Ororo, and Summers rescued. The only reason you donât toss him across the room and rip his spine out through his throat is because you know how disoriented he is. Though, with the way his claws threaten to pierce your skin, you are tempted to.Â
âAh,â a familiar and welcomed voice sounds out from beside you both. âI see youâve met Flux.â Charles rarely ever uses your actual name, mainly introducing you through your X-Men persona. Itâs a preference of yours.Â
The manâs eyes dart between you and Charles, and your own turn into slits the longer he keeps his tight grip on you. âWanna let me go now?â You demand voice practically a growl. Your patience has never been wonderful, but heâs really working on your last nerve.Â
He blinks, seemingly coming back to himself. With an almost regretful look, he lets you go. You sigh in irritation, straightening your shirt out and shoving past the corner heâs pushed you into. âWho the hell is this?â You snap, moving to stand behind Charles.Â
He gives you an apologetic look, âIâm not sure. He hasnât introduced himself yet.â He gives the man an expectant look. Instead of answering he glances around, and scoffs.Â
âWhat is this, summer camp? You people donât need to know me, I donât need to know you. Just show me how to get the fuck out, alright?â Finding Charlesâ school had been heaven on earth. Heâd provided you with a home and a haven you never thought you would have the privilege of. Youâd never shown anger in the face of his guidance or generosity. But many have.Â
You can tell, as much as the man in front of you might believe otherwise, heâs going to be enjoying the comfort of Charlesâ protection soon. You move to the side, leaving them to their conversation. Instead, you focus on keeping the kids away from the newest form of entertainment. You usher them towards their classes, despite their reluctance.Â
The other members of the team soon join you all, introducing themselves. âStorm, Cyclops,â he scoffs a little at Scottâs name and you feel a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. He turns towards you, brows furrowed inquisitively, âFlux?â
âMatter manipulation,â you explain bluntly. He shrugs his shoulders giving you a blank look. Sighing you hold out your hand and gesture to Charlesâ desk. With a flick of your wrist, it melts into an unnatural form of liquid wood. Loganâs eyes widen and you canât help but finally let the full smile form on your lips. âFlux was just what fourteen-year-old me thought fit best.â
He nods, turning back towards Charles with a smarmy grin. âAnd what do they call you, wheels?â Your eyes widen with shock and an unbidden laugh surges forth. Charles sends you a playful glare and you have to turn around to keep from laughing more.Â
Youâd thought you wouldnât like this one. Itâs always bad when thereâs a member on the team you donât get along with. Itâs not common, but it has happened. They simply keep you separated if they can. The school is wonderful, but itâs not perfect. Not everyone will like each other. You think you and Logan will get along just fine, though.
It started slow, barely noticeable at first. You didnât know him well enough to understand that the way he treats you is completely different from how he treats everyone else. Where your greetings are brushed off with cold shoulders or the occasional glare, others at the very least get a brief mumble of hello. When you speak, you can practically feel the irritation wafting off of him in waves. You taste his hatred in every interaction.Â
Thereâs no exact moment you can pinpoint where you went wrong. Sure, your introduction to one another was rocky at best. But heâd nearly thrown Jean across the room when they first met and they got along just fine.Â
Youâve thought about it, for far too long, about what makes you different than the others. Is it your smile? The pitch of your voice? Of course, you understand that sometimes there are just people that you meet and something inside you hates them. Thereâs never a true explanation behind the feeling, just instinct.Â
But you canât place what about you would make someone so guarded, so mean. It feels like such a childish word, like too simple of a way to explain Logan. The very least you know about him is that he can never be summed up with the word simple. There are secrets buried deep within him, some he knows, others he doesnât. You canât just slap a label on him and walk away.Â
More often than not, though, you feel like youâre talking to one of your childhood bullies and not a team member. Because, despite your own feelings towards him, at the end of the day you are team members. Thereâs no getting around it. From that connection comes, what should be, a base level of respect.Â
Youâre both in charge of protecting one another and looking out for each other on the field. That means when you put on the suit, youâre putting aside petty grievances. But he seems incapable of that as well.Â
Youâve spent mornings practicing your greetings, trying to tone down your cheeriness or inflect your voice with a more welcoming timbre. Youâve changed how you dress, how you do your hair, even your makeup. And at the end of it all, you still got the same miserable look and distinct feeling of worthlessness. All of the change has been temporary, you are a creature of habit. Inevitably, you slide back into the same habits and styles that make you, you.Â
You feel stupid, trying to change yourself to better fit someone else's tastes. Especially when itâs someone who so clearly despises you. Itâs not how you carry yourself, how you look, itâs the mere fact you exist that bothers him. At least, thatâs the conclusion youâve come to in all your months of experimenting.Â
It truly shouldnât bother you so much. Thereâs always going to be people who donât like you. Thereâs nothing you can do about it. And youâve never had that desire to change other's opinions on you. But something about Logan has dug its claws under your skin and has refused to let go. You canât get him out of your head, even when you feel like you hate him, heâs all you think about. Youâve considered asking Jean to use her abilities to somehow dig him out of your brain and keep him out. But you donât think that would work either.Â
You step into the kitchen and nearly freeze in the doorway. Logan sits at the island, back to you as he reads the newspaper. You find yourself lightening your steps, quieting your breath. You make yourself as inconspicuous and convenient as possible. Every time you catch yourself doing something like this, you hate yourself just a little bit more.Â
You shouldnât have to alter parts of yourself to better fit someone elseâs needs. You slip along the tiles, your socked feet slamming into the corner of the counter as you pass it. âShit!â You shout, doubling over as you clutch your throbbing toes.Â
So much for being inconspicuous.Â
Loganâs head shoots up in shock as he glares over his paper at you. You let out a strained whimper, reluctantly releasing your foot and hobbling towards the coffee pot. Youâve taken more bullets than you count, and somehow that still hurt worse.Â
You canât just ignore him, you feel his stare burning into your back, and it feels too dickish-too much like him, to not say anything. âMorning,â you mutter over your shoulder, barely looking at him. You pour your coffee, trying to ignore how daunting the silence seems. You might as well be alone in the room for all the attention heâll grant you.Â
You feel like a beggar, on hands and knees just for a simple hello. Ever since his first night here, heâs been so aloof with you. Itâs only devolved since then. You sigh, slamming the mug onto the counter. Something in you has snapped this morning and itâs not just the bones in your foot. Youâre sick of this.Â
You shouldnât have to walk on eggshells around him. Heâs not a toddler, he doesnât deserve to be coddled and catered to. Heâs a grown man, an X-Men for fuckâs sake. What he needs, is to learn a little emotional regulation.Â
You turn, mouth open and sucking in a deep breath as you prepare your speech. The island is empty as you face it, his stool in the same place it had been while he was on it. The paper lies abandoned, even his nearly full mug is still on the granite.Â
You scoff, snapping your jaw shut and rolling your eyes. âJesus,â you mutter to yourself. Wonderful, even the same room is too much for him now. Something bitter has been forming in your mind. A rage building from weeks of unprompted cruel behavior.Â
Yet, somehow, the thing that pushes you over the edge from interest to resentment is the fact that he didnât say good morning back.Â
You teach history at the school, but the majority of your role at the mansion is to train children with powers similar to yours. Youâve never met a mutant who had such a broad scope with their abilities as you do. Some can turn water to ice, control the blood running through someoneâs veins, or make the air around them a solid block. But youâve yet to meet one who manipulates anything with matter the way you do.Â
Still, for training, you deal with the unreliable, untameable, and generally more dangerous abilities. And sometimes for training, you work with other teachers and let your kids practice on each other. Itâs a rotating schedule, and unfortunately, the week youâve decided you hate him, youâre partnered with Logan for training.Â
Youâve got the entirety of Charlesâ backyard, which is essentially the size of a football field. Itâs a lot of room for accidents and accidental misfires. You stand in front of the pond, admittedly a risky choice with these kids, and direct them all to their partners.Â
âRemember, the goal of this isnât to maim each other,â you give a particularly pointed glare towards Billy. Heâs caused a lot of problems lately with his fires. âItâs just to learn how to wield your abilities to your advantage, to protect yourself and your team.â
You look to Logan, seeing if he wants to add anything or contribute to the class in some way. He just keeps his arms crossed, glowering at all the children like heâs imagining skewering them on his claws. Rolling your eyes, you turn back to the kids. âLet's start with the hand-to-hand maneuvers we went over yesterday before we practice with our abilities.â
âWhy donât you show us?â Your head whips towards Billy and you canât help the sneer on your lips. Heâs sat on the ground, legs crossed leisurely over each other. He doesnât have a care in the world as he taunts you.Â
âWhat?â You grit out, glaring at him.
âShow us what a balanced fight should look like between mutants. You and Logan,â he nods to the aforementioned man. Logan just quirks a brow, glancing at you before turning back to Billy.Â
âI donât think-â
âFine.â You gape at Logan as he tugs his jacket off. He shrugs as he looks at you, moving towards the middle of the field. Of course, he wouldnât pass up the opportunity to try and pummel you. Youâre sure that heâs just been waiting for an excuse to fight you.Â
âIf thatâs what you want,â you mutter bitterly. You pull off your sweatshirt and start walking towards him.Â
âYour cuffs,â Billy calls out from behind you. The other students all watch the interaction with rapt attention. Theyâre practically salivating at the chance to see you two fight each other. Meanwhile, Billy just seems like he wants to see someone bleed.Â
The metal cuffs around your wrists are the only thing that stops you from leveling the entire school. Your abilities are so tightly entwined with your emotions that one unlucky bout of anger can lead you to vaporizing everyone around you. They dull your abilities just enough to still be useful but not deadly. You havenât taken them off in years. And perhaps itâs wrong to lean so heavily on them for protection, but you have. Thatâs your cross to bear. You donât even want to picture what will happen if you open that dam.Â
âWhat?â Billy shrugs, sending you a sharp smirk. âHow are we supposed to trust you, if you canât even use your own damn abilities?â He snorts and narrows his eyes at you, âHow the hell did you even become an X-Men, Flux?â His name rolls off your tongue with a sharpened venom.Â
He oozes hatred and a burning resentment that catches you off guard. Itâs too much to process the insults heâs hurling at you and the sudden one-eighty in his personality. You donât even hear Logan coming until his fist is wrapped in Billyâs collar and heâs yanking him off his feet.Â
He dangles him, just a couple of inches, off the ground, teeth practically bared at the kid. âWanna keep talking, mouth?âÂ
âLog-â Youâre cut off as a fireball shoots out of Billyâs palm and explodes against Loganâs gut. You gasp, throwing up a wall in front of the other kids so it canât hurt them. âAll right,â you call out sternly. âEveryone inside,â you demand, pointing the other kids back towards the manor.Â
You linger with Logan, who still has Billy dangling from his fist, only he looks even more pissed off now. Anyone else, and theyâd be dust at Billyâs feet. But Logan isnât anyone else and the only collateral seems to be his shirt.Â
Not that you mind the view.Â
Billy hasnât been here long enough to know what Loganâs abilities are, though. You donât think he actually knew he could heal. The thought alone is worrying enough that you donât force Logan to let him go. âWe need to get him to Charles,â when Logan doesnât move you put more force behind your voice, ânow.â
Logan lets out a low huff before placing Billy back on his own two feet. He doesnât let him go far, though, keeping his hand around the back of his neck and dragging him forward. You follow behind them, making sure he doesnât rip him to pieces before Charles can speak with him.Â
You sit outside Charlesâ office, fingers tapping restlessly against your thigh as you stare at the mahogany walls in front of you. The red velvet of the seat is too soft and you find yourself slipping to the edge every few seconds. Itâs too soft, too luxurious, your back aches the longer you wait.Â
Charles had instructed both you and Logan to wait for him to finish up with Billy. Itâs been nearly an hour, though, and youâre growing restless. You can tell Logan feels the same way. Heâs pacing the hall like a caged lion about to rip the arm off its keeper.Â
âHow are you?â You blurt out, desperate for something to fill the silence. He stops abruptly, whipping around to face you. You flinch back slightly at the intense glare heâs sporting. âYour stomach, I mean,â you gesture towards the scorch marks on his shirt, the soot on his abs.Â
Itâs been a practice in self-control to not just be staring at his wonderfully sculpted muscles flexing this whole time. Youâre pleasantly surprised with how well youâve been doing so far. Though, now with him facing you, youâre finding it incredibly hard to meet his eye. Heâs such an imposing figure, especially when heâs standing over you like this.Â
âFine,â he barks out, turning back around and effectively ending the conversation. Your eyes narrow and you scoff, god, why do you try?
The door swings open and you expect Billy to come running out crying with his tail tucked between his legs. Instead, you hear the familiar whirl of Charles wheels as he rolls into the hall. He faces you and Logan, a strained smile on his face.Â
âWhereâs Billy?â You slowly get to your feet, peering into his office. Your confusion only grows when you find it empty.Â
âHeâs away from the other children for now. Heâll need private lessons before we allow him near them again. And if that doesnât work, we have no choice but to expel him.â You can tell it hurts Charles to say that.Â
He does genuinely want the best for these kids. He wants mutants to have a home, a place where they can be themselves without fear of retaliation. Sometimes, though, it doesnât work out. Thereâs nothing wrong with that, you all try your best to help the kids. But some of them have been so twisted by the world around them that thereâs no undoing the damage. When they pose a risk the way Billy does, the other kids come first.Â
Logan scoffs with distaste, stalking closer to Charles. âHe tried to kill me, fucking tried to get Flux to take her cuffs off.â He gestures towards you, for once, though, you donât feel like youâre being attacked. Even he can understand the dangers of that demand is idiotic. Itâs clear Billy only wanted to watch everyone around him get hurt, he didnât care about the consequences.Â
Charles holds up a pacifying hand, nodding his head and dismissing Loganâs concerns. âIâm quite aware of what happened, Logan. But Billy is my responsibility and heâs not the reason I needed to talk to you both.â
He rolls back into his office, expecting you both to follow him. You fall in line behind him, taking a seat at his desk. Logan takes another minute to join you both, a reluctant scowl on his face as he sits beside you. Charles waves his hand, the door closing and providing you all with a little bit more privacy.Â
He reaches into a drawer on his desk, pulling out a thin manilla folder. He pushes it towards both you and Logan. You share a confused look with Logan before flipping the file open. There are a few pictures of a stereotypical suburban neighborhood. Bright green laws, uniform driveways, each house looks the same as the last.Â
There are a few more pictures, all of them taken from an awkward distance that makes it hard to determine what youâre looking at. You pass the pictures to Logan and shake your head at Charles. âI donât understand, what is all this?â
âYour next mission,â he informs you both with a strained smile.Â
Loganâs head shoots up, eyes narrowing in on Charles. âExcuse me?â He demands, his voice a growl more than anything.Â
âThere have been some disturbing rumors about this neighborhood. Mentions of a possible mutant trafficking ring being conducted behind closed doors. Normally, I would dismiss such claims. Oftentimes these are just ways to bait and snatch mutants. However, my own attempts at telepathic investigation have been thwarted. Even with Cerebro, I canât seem to breach the neighborhood.â
âSomethingâs blocking you?â You ask, snatching the pictures back from Logan to get a better look. He tosses the folder back on the desk, muttering something you canât hear.Â
âOr someone. Iâm worried there might be some truth to these rumors. And since I canât find a safe way in, I need your help. You only need to do some reconnaissance. The only problem is how gated the community is. Theyâre not going to let anyone in unless they live there.â
Charles gives you both a cheekily expectant look. The truth is so hard to swallow that you almost canât process it. âNo,â you mutter, shaking your head and smiling, waiting for the punchline. When one doesnât come you get up from your seat and give him a disbelieving look. âYou want us undercover?â
Charles pulls out a key and smiles widely, âCongratulations on your new home, newlyweds.â
Logan shoots up from his seat, it wobbles precariously, nearly toppling to the ground. âYou want me to move into a house with her?â He spits out the sentence like it pains him to even have it in his mouth. A disbelieving smile spread across your cheeks, sardonic laughter slipping through parted lips. âWhy canât I do it with Jean? Or better yet you just get some other asshole to play her husband?â
Your heart stutters to a stop and you quickly rip your eyes off the pair. The stung worse than you think it should. Your heart aches, each beat painful. You feel like someoneâs punched through your chest and ripped at all the tender bits.Â
âI have chosen you,â Charles loses all humor from his voice. He is stern, like a father scolding his child, as he speaks to Logan. âAnd thatâs the end of it. Besides, I donât suppose that Jeanâs fiance would appreciate her playing house with another man.â He places heavy emphasis on fiance, enough to get Logan to purse his lips and look away from him.
You speak up, your voice a surprise to them both. You claw through the lump in your throat, ignoring the hot burn behind your eyes. âIâm not doing this. Especially not with him,â you force the words out, wiping roughly at your cheeks. âShit,â you hiss, looking down and trying to hide the tears that have slowly trickled down.Â
You donât allow either of them to argue, running out of the door and ignoring the calls of your name behind you. You canât do this. Canât pretend to be in love with Logan, not when he hates you. Not when itâs so close to the truth.Â
Evidently, Charles didn't feel like giving either of you a choice.
You drum your fingers along the door handle. The cab of the truck rattles as the trailer drags along behind you. The trees have begun to thin out on the road, and more shopping centers pop up than youâve seen this whole trip. Itâs the how you know youâre getting closer, that and the map on Loganâs thigh. You steal glances at it because he refused to let you help him navigate.Â
Besides the occasional ask for a bathroom break and refuted offer of switching drivers, the four-hour road trip has been quiet. You tried to turn the radio on earlier but heâd shut it off nearly immediately. He claimed that the pop shit they play makes his ears ring.Â
You were almost tempted to turn it up to full volume if only to torture him a little bit.Â
Loganâs rough voice jars you out of your head, âIâm going to need to know your real name.â
You frown, brows furrowed in confusion. Had you still not given him your actual name? Heâs always referred to you as Flux, but you just assumed thatâs because he didnât want you to be an actual person in his eyes. Itâs easier to hate someone if you can distance yourself from the idea of them having actual feelings. Still, you canât believe he never asked someone for it.Â
It just shows you how little he cares for you. Reluctantly, you give it to him. He hums, something pensive pinching at his face. âWhat?â You snap, waiting for him to insult you.Â
He just shrugs, âItâs pretty,â he mutters, so quiet you almost donât hear him. You donât even know how to respond to that, so caught off guard by a genuine compliment that you just choose to ignore it. You doubt he meant it, anyway. He might think the name is pretty, but he doesnât hold the same opinion of the person connected to it.Â
You sink back into the silence, finding it more comforting than jarring now. Youâd prefer the familiar feeling of him ignoring you than the abrupt turn in character. He glances over at you, something like regret on his face as he sighs.Â
Thankfully, he doesnât say anything else. Instead, in what feels like an extension of an olive branch, he turns the radio back on. He keeps the volume low, so it doesnât bother him so much. But at least thereâs something to listen to besides your breathing.Â
You turn back towards the window, a white sign surrounded by daises coming up as Logan slows the truck down. He flicks on his turn signal, pulling up to Storybrook Walk. He stops in front of a large wrought iron gate and jumps out of the truck. He runs up to a black metal box, flipping the lid open and typing in the code Charles gave you both. As he gets back in the truck, the gate swings open widely.Â
You pull your rings out of your pocket and slip yours on. âHere,â you urge, holding Loganâs ring out to him. He huffs, glaring down at it before snatching it out of your hand. He balances his hands atop the wheel, slipping the ring on his left hand.Â
The neighborhood is picture-perfect suburbia. The lawns are bright green and manicured to perfection. You can hear children laughing as they play in their backyards and draw out a hopscotch grid on the sidewalk. Women and men who look like theyâre straight from the fifties stop on the sidewalk and wave as you drive through the gated community.Â
You mouth the numbers on the mailboxes to yourself, sitting up straighter when youâre one house away from your new home for the next few weeks. âHey,â you frown, noticing a large congregation of people in the driveway of 1220. âThis is our house isnât it?â
Logan frowns, stopping the truck just before pulling in so he doesnât hit anyway. âSupposed to be.â He glares at the people suspiciously, âStay here, alright?â
You nod, watching him as he jumps out and rounds the front of the truck. You roll your window down, fingers dancing along the metal of your cuffs. Thereâs no way youâve been found out before youâve even gotten a chance to investigate.Â
âHey!â Loganâs voice is scary on a good day, but when he feels threatened, itâs enough to frighten a grown man. You can see the people flinch slightly away from him. Thatâs when you spot the wrapped cookies in a blonde womanâs hand and see children hiding with balloons on the porch.Â
âOh, fuck,â you mutter. You throw the door open, racing after Logan before he does something stupid. âHowdy neighbors!â You shout, speaking over him before he gets a chance to say anything else. You rush up to Loganâs side, nearly out of breath in your haste to get to him. âIs this our welcoming committee?â
You glare up at him and his eyes narrow as he sees the same thing you did. âShit,â he mutters under his breath.Â
âSmile and wave,â you whisper through gritted teeth. His lips peel up into something terrifying and it takes everything in you not to flinch back. âWhat the fuck is that?â You mutter.
âA smile,â he hisses, glaring down at you in irritation.Â
A blonde woman steps forward before you can continue your hushed argument. âWelcome!â She calls out in a heavy southern accent, throwing her arms open with a bright smile. She walks as fast as she can in her tight skirt and kitten heels, coming over to embrace you, the casserole in her hand balancing precariously behind you.Â
She tugs Logan down into a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek and staining the skin red. âSurprise!â The kids on the porch jump out with balloons and flowers and she winces.Â
âA bit late on the delivery,â she waves it off with a faux chuckle. âBut we donât mind âcause theyâre so darn cute.â She is very⊠loud. Thereâs something about her that is meant to be charming but puts you on edge. Sheâs got all the familiar characteristics of a woman youâd love to be around, but sheâs executing it like someone playing a character. âShiela,â she holds out her hand, perfectly manicured nails shining bright red.Â
You take her hand introducing yourself, âAnd this is my husband, Logan. Forgive him for his tone, we had an accident on the highway earlier. Weâre still a little on edge.â
âOh no,â she gasps, pressing her nails to her chest and even that seems plastic. âWhat happened?â
Years of bullshitting your way through school presentations are finally coming in handy. You think quickly on your feet, something these people would despise. You need something that endears you to them, âTire blew out and someone tried to raid the trailer while we were fixing it.â
She lets out a disapproving hum and the throng of people behind her echoes it with disturbing harmony. You find yourself leaning closer towards Logan, feeling like you need to defend yourself against them. You know theyâre only an overzealous HOA committee, but there is something uncanny about them.Â
Sensing your discomfort, Logan wraps his arm around your shoulder, tugging you into his side. You have to school your features into one of neutrality. Youâre supposed to be newlyweds, this is normal behavior for you. His touch feels like ice water being tossed over you, though. His willing embrace makes your head swim with distaste and skepticism.Â
âWell,â a man steps forward. Heâs conventionally handsome, with brown hair cropped short, slight stubble on his cheeks, slacks, and a button-up that he fills out nicely. His smile, however, stretches too wide and shows too many teeth. A shiver crawls up your spine as he places his hand on Shielaâs shoulder. âYou wonât have to worry about people like that here, thatâs for sure. John,â he offers his hand to Logan, bypassing you completely. âHead of the HOA here at Storybrook.â
âNice to meet you, Johnâ Logan falls just short of sincere. He towers slightly over John and you can see that heâs squeezing his hand just a bit too tight by the wince of Jouhnâs face. You dig your elbow into his side and he drops his hand immediately.Â
Your gaze drifts over their shoulders and your stomach drops. The people behind them all hold dishes full of food and gift baskets. Their smiles are pinned to their faces, never once flinching out of place. Thereâs no joy in their eyes, though. Theyâre glazed over like theyâre a million miles away. You would think they were mannequins before you even considered them human.Â
âLong drive?â Shiela asks, your eyes dart back to hers only to find her intense stare already wholly focused on you.Â
âYeah,â you answer, clearing your throat of the panic rising in it. âWeâre gonna have a fun time unloading this,â you laugh humorlessly, motioning towards the trailer.
She waves her hands in dismissal. âDonât you worry about that, hun. Thatâs what neighbors are for after all.â She looks behind her, snapping her fingers a few times. The otherâs start going towards the trailer and you feel Logan tense under your touch.Â
A kid reaches it first, they manage to unlock it before you shout, âNo!â Itâs too loud, echoing through the street and making you clench your eyes shut in embarrassment. You turn back towards Shiela and John, both of them wearing shocked expressions. You chuckle awkwardly, âThereâs just a lot of family heirlooms. I donât want to risk them being damaged.â There are no heirlooms, just empty boxes and surveillance equipment that you'll have no chance of explaining away.
Shiela purses her lips into a tight smile, eyes turned to slits as she nods. âOf course,â you know she doesnât believe you for a second. âWell then, weâll just take all this inside.â She snaps and the others take their casseroles and gifts and begin flooding towards your front door. Shiela and John walk behind them, herding them all into a straight line.Â
You let go of Logan immediately, glaring at the door of your home. Shiela holds a key in her hand, unlocking it and letting everyone inside. You scoff and shake your head in disbelief. âWhat the actual fuck?â You hiss.Â
Logan just shakes his head. âFucking bizarre, what the hell is wrong with these people?â He starts back towards the truck and you follow him. âI almost prefer the welcoming committee at the manor.â
You roll your eyes, âI was your welcoming committee,â you grouse.Â
He shrugs, âI know.â You swat lightly at his shoulder and relatch the trailerâs lock. You linger by the mailbox as Logan pulls the truck into the driveway. Heâs getting out just as the others finally leave your house.Â
Shiela walks back towards you and you gesture towards the keyring in her hand. âGot a key to my house?â You play it off as a joke but itâs incredibly disturbing to know she could walk in at any minute.Â
âOf course,â she smiles and shrugs it off like itâs the simplest thing in the world. âFor the safety of everyone here.â Her smile drops and she takes an imposing step towards you, âInspections are every Wednesday at noon.â Your jaw drops in astonishment and you choke on your words. She cackles loudly, face breaking out into a smile once more. âIâm just kidding, honey! God, your face, youâre too gullible, sweetheart.â
You force out a chuckle, smiling as much as you can force. âOf course, silly me,â you barely make it sound believable. This is going to be much harder than you thought.Â
âWell,â John comes up behind her, guiding her away from you. âWeâll get out of your hair now. Welcome, neighbors!â The others around them all call out a Welcome as they drift across your lawn and head back to their own homes.Â
Logan walks up to your side, the both of you keeping stilted smiles on your faces, waiting for them to just go away. But they pause at their doors, in almost perfect synchronization they turn and wave at you both. You back further into Loganâs chest and his grip on you tightens.Â
âWhat. The. Fuck.â They step through their homes at the same moment and you feel sick to your stomach. There is something seriously wrong here, youâre not sure you want to find out the truth of it.Â
You leave Logan to unload the trailer while you unpack the boxes. Youâre forced to do it all by hand while the front door is open. You canât risk someone stopping by for a visit and seeing you float the couch through the middle of the living room. Youâre stumped on how to set up the surveillance equipment. Shiela doesnât seem like the type to understand boundaries when it comes to popping by for a visit.Â
Youâre just going to have to keep most of it upstairs and set up some cameras on the porch. You donât doubt that sheâll abuse that key of hers as she sees fit. You canât imagine how anyone could stand living in this neighborhood. Having no privacy seems like a nightmare. Especially when the commander of the HOA is John and Shiela. They seem like the type to fine you over a rosebush.Â
Logan grunts, dragging in the couch. He pushes it through the doorway and kicks the door closed behind him. The second itâs closed he drops the act and picks the couch up with one hand. âWhere do you want it?âÂ
You point towards the back wall of the living room and he drops it with a small groan. âWeâre going to need to put cameras out on the porch,â you inform him, still digging through the box. He walks behind you, heading for the fridge and digging around in it.Â
âFuck,â he mutters. You look up, watching as he tosses aside casserole after casserole. âThey didnât bring any beer?â
You laugh a little and get up, heading towards the cooler youâd packed. âThey donât seem the type.â You lean over, digging around through the melted ice until your fingers brush against cool glass. You straighten up, sending him a coquettish smile. âWant a beer after all that hard work, darling?â You taunt, playing the perfect housewife.Â
He scoffs and holds his hand out, snatching it from the air as you toss it at him. He pulls the cap off with his teeth, spitting it out into the sink. âAnd a sandwich while youâre at it,â he demands roughly.Â
If you werenât a connoisseur of dry humor, you wouldnât have recognized the joke for what it was. Still, youâre almost too shocked he even bothered to play along with you to laugh. Almost, you canât help the slight chuckle that slips out. Â
He throws himself on the couch, taking a deep swig from the bottle, and the moment feels remarkably domestic. You suppose that it should. That is the whole reason youâre here after all. But you hadnât expected even a singular pleasant moment with Logan.Â
This, playful banter and a shared joke, thatâs all you could ever want from him. You would settle for this if it was all he was willing to give you. But he canât even grant you that. This is one outlier in a long list of rude remarks and dismissive behavior. You canât let yourself be so easily swayed.Â
âI might try and get some cameras on the other houses,â Logan remarks from the couch. He kicks his feet on the coffee table and you click your tongue at him, motioning towards his shoes. With an aggrieved sigh, he undoes the laces of his boots and kicks them off. You glare at the dirt that flings across the carpet but a quick wave of your hand makes it disappear.Â
âDonât bother with the cameras. Theyâve all got security.â You turn away from the box youâre unpacking with a pensive frown. âTheyâre all covered by the same company, too. All of them. Isnât that weird?â
He scoffs and shrugs. âAnywhere else, yeah. But Iâm pretty sure they piss at the same time here.â Your nose wrinkles at his crude words and you roll your eyes.Â
âTake this seriously.â
He huffs out a laugh, âI am. Didnât you see them earlier? They only breathe because Shiela lets them.â You take a seat at the kitchen table, uncomfortable attempting to take a spot on the couch. He sighs when he sees the expression on your face, finally dropping the dismissive attitude. âIâll just be smart about how I set up our cameras, alright?â
You just nod, reaching for the box of your essentials on the table. Itâs strange to be sitting beside him, talking to him. Youâve never gotten more than two words out of him. This is so far out of your normal comfort zone that you feel like youâre crawling out of your skin trying to escape.Â
âIâm going to go to bed,â you announce awkwardly, shooting up from your seat at the table.Â
The beer pauses halfway to his lips and he gives you an odd look. âOkay?â He responds slowly, not sure why youâre telling him this. You open your mouth, and almost tell him to have a good night, but change your mind at the last second.Â
You move towards the bedroom near the front door, âFlux,â you turn slightly and he shakes his head. âTake the one upstairs.â
Your brows furrow, âWhy?â You demand, an attitude edging its way into your voice.Â
âSo if Shiela busts down our door I can protect us,â you know heâs teasing, but the sentiment is nice. âAnd so I donât have to set up the surveillance shit upstairs,â your face drops and you roll your eyes. There it is.Â
âDick,â you mutter, storming towards the stairs, your boxes hovering along behind you. His laughter follows you up the stairs, even when you slam the door shut. Although, when you take in the room, you canât find it in yourself to complain for a second about it.Â
While Logan is screwed with the teeny guest room downstairs, you get the largest bedroom youâve ever been in all to yourself. The closet could practically be another bedroom. The bath is more like a jacuzzi than it is a tub.
A four-poster bed sits against the wall, the fluffiest comforter ever becoming you forth like a siren. Thereâs even a table in the middle of the room, with a chair, perfect for setting up as your desk.Â
You scoff in astonishment, âOh, I could get used to this.â You place your boxes on the table and start pulling out your clothes. You toss yourself on the bed, bouncing against the sheets, and throw pillows go flying everywhere. You flick your wrist, all your essentials flying out of the boxes and sorting themselves out.Â
After a luxurious soak in the tub, youâre spread out along the bed, the limited information from Charles's file spread out before you. There are only a few blurry pictures of the neighborhood and a typed-up page of everything heâs heard about Sotrybrook. Thereâs nothing even remotely useful here.Â
You sigh, tossing the file to the floor and looking out the large window of your room. Youâve got a camera placed on the sill, programmed to take a picture anytime thereâs movement. You doubt youâre going to get much from that. The secrets of this place seem to be buried deep. Youâre gonna have to get real friendly with your neighbors if you want to get out of here fast.Â
Logan is on the computer, trying to sync all of the cameras up. You clean up the dishes from breakfast and tidy up the kitchen. Youâre trying to decide how you should start investigating when thereâs a dainty knock on the door.Â
Your brows furrow and you peer around the cupboards to look at the door. Loganâs head lifts and he shares an odd look with you. He gets up from the couch and glances through the peephole.Â
You drop the towel on the counter and frown as his shoulders slump forward. Something pinched appears on his face and he sighs. âWhat?â You hiss at him.
He turns and glares at you, âYouâll see.â You shake your head in confusion as he throws the door open.Â
His attitude makes a lot more sense when you hear a very happy, âHowdy!â Shiela stands in your doorframe, three women hovering behind her. At least they look awake, unlike the people from last night. A redhead with the most gorgeous waves youâve ever seen holds beach towels in her arms. A brunette with flawless brown skin carries a jug of lemonade. And a woman with black hair and a perfect figure is carrying a plate of cookies.Â
All of these women are wearing bathing suits that look like theyâve been snatched out of a fashion magazine from the sixties. Each of them is gorgeous, alarmingly so. Theyâre beautiful to the point of being flawless. As you walk out of the kitchen and take a step closer, Shiela welcomes herself into your home.Â
You donât even think you see pores on their faces. Each of them offers you the same practiced smile that you force yourself to return. âHow are you settling in?â Shiela demands, not asks.Â
âUm,â you look to Logan for help but heâs just as perplexed as you are. âJust fine, Shiela, thanks. What are you all doing?â
The redhead rolls her eyes playfully, âTanning, sweetheart.â She glances at Logan expectantly and he grabs his duffel from by the couch.Â
âI think thatâs my cue,â he falls easily into the role of a playful husband. But you donât need him to play along right now. You need him to stay where the fuck he is so youâre not alone with the barbies.Â
âHa ha, donât go,â you whisper, trying to grab at his sleeve. âLogan,â you hiss, making sure the others canât hear you as they look around your home. âDonât do this.â
He dips his head down, and for one stupid moment, you think he might kiss you. âGood luck,â he whispers in your ear, backing off with a smug smirk and letting himself out of the house.Â
Oh, youâre going to fucking kill him.Â
âFinally,â the brunette breathes out a relieved breath, âI thought heâd never leave.â
Shiela chuckles, âYouâre lucky honey. It took us a long while to have ours so well trained.â She motions to the other girls, âThis is Madge,â the redhead smiles and gives a cute wave. She introduces the rest quickly and you file the information away for later when youâre writing your report.Â
Madge- husband is the vendor consultant for the HOA.Â
Sierra - brunette - husband is secretary of the HOA.Â
Kimiko - black hair - no husband.Â
Your brows furrow in confusion as Kimiko nods in greeting. You return it, suspicions running thick in your blood. Itâs odd, that their husbands are in charge of the HOA, you figured they would be. Beyond that, the emphasis they put on it is astonishing. You really didnât think the HOA was so important but itâs practically the government here. And the women only seem to hold importance if their husbands do. Shiela is essentially their leader, sheâs the one you need to impress.
This whole thing seems incredibly backward and like a blast from the past. The way they style their hair, do their makeup, dress- it's all fashioned after the fifties and sixties. You feel incredibly out of place in your worn-down pajamas and frizzy braids.Â
âWeâre not really tanning,â Madge tells you. âThis is just a way for us ladies to get to know the new kid in the neighborhood and tell you everything you need to know,â she leans in, smiling like sheâs sharing a conspiratorial secret with you.Â
âDonât let Madge scare you,â Sierra shoots her a glare. âItâs not that big of a deal, itâs just a way for us to escape our husbands for an hour.â
âWell,â you chuckle awkwardly, crossing your arms over your chest as you grow uncomfortable under their tense stares. It feels like their eyes are peeling back your skin, exposing everything underneath as they judge every nook and cranny of your soul. âI havenât reached that stage yet.â
Shielaâs smile loses some of its humor and she scoffs. âYou will,â she assures you, acrid bitterness coating her words. âGive it a few years,â she gives you a bitchy and all-knowing smirk. Your hackles raise, the urge to defend your sham of a marriage rising quickly in you. You bite your tongue, swallowing down your smart retort before you say something you regret.Â
Youâre not even married to Logan, but you donât like her butting her nose so far into your business. âSadly, I donât have a bathing suit.â
âOh,â Kimiko gives you a blank smile, âWe brought you one.â Madge moves the towels aside to reveal a two-piece that matches their own. In your size.Â
Your cheeks ache with a forced smile as you take the bathing suit from them. âWeâll just set up out back,â Shiela lets you know. She turns to the others with a beaming smile, âCome on ladies.â They follow after her like ducklings, and when you look down you see each of their steps are in sync.Â
You wait until the back door closes to rush to the front. You throw the door open and Logan jumps from where heâs drilling the camera into the side of the house. âIâm gonna fucking kill you,â you warn.
He chuckles and smirks, âDonât keep âem waiting too long, sweetheart,â he mocks and you slam the door closed with a loud scoff. He was enjoying your suffering far too much, but you shouldnât be surprised. Youâre sure heâs just been waiting for a moment like this.Â
You change into the bathing suit and take a deep calming breath. You can do this. You can play pretend for a few hours.Â
You wished youâd known being an actor was a part of the job description before you joined the X-Men.
You lay on your stomach along the soft beach towel that Madge brought. The sun isnât too hot on you, but you also bent the tree behind you to provide a bit more shade when the others werenât looking. So far, youâve collected nothing but mindless gossip.Â
Sam never takes in his trash cans on time. Alicia has been getting a little too cozy with the gardener. Some couple you didnât pay attention to is expecting a kid. Youâre struggling to pay attention to all the mindless drivel.Â
Usually, you wouldnât mind a little gossip, but none of this feels real. Their words are hollow, smiles empty. Everything they say sounds like theyâre reading it from a script. The only person you actually believe cares about any of this bullshit is Shiela. The rest of them seem to just play along, not meaning a word they say.Â
Youâre gaining nothing useful from this. Thereâs no information youâve gotten during this conversation that could remotely help you. All you want to do is go out front and strangle Logan for abandoning you.Â
The only good thing about all this is the lemonade and cookies. Which, you admit, you may have indulged yourself a little too much. But at this point, youâre just eating to stay awake. You reach for another cookie and Shiela lets out a dainty huff.Â
âI wish I could eat like you,â she laughs and you prepare yourself for the most backhanded insult youâve ever heard. âBut I have to be so careful about watching my figure. Wouldnât want to lose my waist,â she titters and the other women giggle.Â
You toss the cookie back on the plate, rolling your eyes. It feels like youâre right back in high school. You love this, this is great. At this point, youâre just trying to stop yourself from tossing them all out.Â
The backdoor slides open and Logan peeks his head out. The women wave and Shiela calls out a sultry, âHey, Lo.â
Your jaw drops and you canât help but scoff as you tilt your head to give her an astonished stare. This woman has absolutely zero shame. Sheâs not even hiding the way sheâs ogling him. Sheâs literally biting her lip.Â
You clench your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. There it is, the end of your rope. âSweetheart, you gonna be done soon?â Logan calls out and you canât help but smile at the immense satisfaction you feel when Shielaâs face falls. You shouldnât take so much joy in Logan ignoring her, you know thatâs just how he is. But she doesnât.Â
âI think so, hon.â You sit up on your knees, clapping your hands and pretending to be upset. âSorry, girls, I think Iâm needed back in the house.â You get to your feet and pick your towel up. As you do, you flick your fingers, and the lemonade tumbles over, spilling all over Shielaâs pristine white bathing suit.Â
She jumps up with a shrill scream, shaking her arms off at the ice-cold liquid and desperately trying to wipe off her bathing suit. Madge and Sierra flock to her and you roll your eyes at how dramatic sheâs being.Â
Out of the side of your eye, you see someone watching you. You turn slightly, startling when you see the intense glare Kimikoâs sporting. Itâs the first genuine emotion youâve seen from her, but even this seems cold. Her dark eyes are bottomless pits of frigid rage. You find that you canât look away from her, swaying slightly as her eyes beckon you forward.Â
You need to go to her, speak with her, be with her. You need-
Your mind falls short of what you need. But you know Kimko will give it to you. Sierra and Madge both straighten up, both blank-faced as you take a step forward.Â
Logan hollers your name again and you jump, shaking your head and breaking whatever trance youâd fallen in. When you look back, all three of them are still fussing over Shiela. You glance to Logan, to see if he saw what had happened.Â
His brows are furrowed, face pinched in concern as he looks at you. You think you might have just found Charlesâ interference.Â
âI think we should look into Kimiko,â you scroll through the list of residents youâd managed to hack into. Youâve been on the computer for hours, trying to find any information bout her at all. Even when you ran a background check, nothing came up. If that doesnât scream mutant, you donât know what does.Â
Logan walks over to the table with a steaming pan in his hand. You tug your computer glasses off and slide the laptop to the side. He pours some pasta onto your plate and hands you a glass of water. âThank you,â he gives you a tense almost-smile and nods.Â
âFigure out where she lives?â He asks, bringing his own plate to the table. You shake your head and rub your temples, trying to fend off the headache you can already feel forming. You should have taken a break from the research. You canât stand staring at screens for as long as you did.Â
âSheâs not even a registered resident.â
âWell,â he sighs and shrugs, âat least we know this wasnât a waste of time.â You nod in acquiesce and take a bite of your food. Your eyes widen in shock and he laughs at the look on your face. âDidnât think I could cook?â
You shake your head and smile. âI took you as the type to pour beer in your cereal. But this is,â you stumble over your word. Youâre afraid of being too nice to him. Youâve reached a sort of impasse, where youâre not openly hostile, but youâre not exactly friendly. You feel like if you do too much, too fast, heâs gonna be closed off again. âItâs really good.â
He purses his lips and nods, dragging his fork along the porcelain plate. The noise grates on you and only further aggravates the growing headache but you donât snap at him. You swallow down the frustration and just shovel more pasta into your mouth.Â
âThis, uh,â Logan takes in a deep breath and lets all out in one gravely exhale. You give him an expectant look and he shrugs. âIt hasnât been as bad as I thought.â He tells you flippantly.Â
You narrow your eyes at him, âIs that supposed to be a compliment?â You demand with a firm tone, placing your fork down and leaning back in your chair.Â
He lets out an annoyed sigh, âIt was just an observation.â
You scoff and roll your eyes. Heâs fucking ridiculous. âYou know, maybe if you ever tried to get to know me, you wouldnât have had such a horrible opinion about me.â You try and eat more but the food just tastes like ash in your mouth. You grow antsy, not wanting to sit near him anymore.Â
Youâre surprised that heâs the one who fucked up the peace. You really thought it would be you. But something about what he said is rubbing you the wrong way. Of course, it hasnât been bad, youâre not a bad person. He just decided he hated you one day and heâs so goddamned stubborn he never considered anything else being the truth.Â
âI didnât mean anything by it,â he defends, watching with a confused expression as you get up and drop your plate loudly in the sink.Â
âYou know,â you ignore his weak defense, leaning on the sink. You grip the rim of it tightly, sucking in a deep breath to try and keep yourself calm. âYou didnât even know my fucking name,â you mutter under your breath, shaking your head to yourself. Why are you even bothering with him? Youâll never win and you donât even know if you want him to change his opinion about you.Â
Heâs been a dick for so long that youâre not sure youâre even interested in being friends, let alone anything beyond that.Â
âWell,â he takes an angered tone as you continue to deflect his attempts at restoring the peace. âItâs not like you told me. You just go by your X-Men name, how was I supposed to know better?â
âBy fucking asking!â You shout, whirling around on him, nearly ramming into his chest. You hadnât realized how close heâd gotten while youâd had your back to him. âIf you had, ever, at any fucking point tried to get to know me, you wouldnât be so surprised that Iâm nice. Iâm a nice person to be around, Logan. And for some reason I tried to change myself, to make you happy. And it never even worked!â You scoff, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in your throat that you quickly swallow down. You shove past him, escaping the corner heâs backed you into. âYour head is so far up your ass that you didnât even try to know me before you decided you hated me.â
âWhat?â He scoffs and glares at you. âI donât fucking hate you. When have I ever said that? And I never wanted you to change.â He keeps focusing on the wrong things. How he feels about you doesnât matter, itâs how he treated you.Â
âNever, youâve never said that because youâve never said more than two words to me. This,â you motion between the two of you, âis the longest conversation weâve ever had.â A sudden exhaustion settles over you, it weighs heavy on your bones and drapes across you like a blanket.Â
You donât have the energy for this. For him. You donât want to keep defending yourself to someone who couldnât care less. Thereâs no winning with him. He will never listen to you, heâll just offer half-assed excuses that he thinks absolve him of how horribly heâs treated you.Â
He calls your name as you slump into the dining room chair. Your real name, not your X-Men name. âI never hated you,â he tells you, voice soft, but the conviction is strong.Â
You stand up, unable to make eye contact with him. âGoodnight, Logan.â You walk up the stairs quietly, never once looking at him. You canât stand to face him. As much as youâve tried to bury how you feel about him, itâs still there.Â
Being with him like this, having his ring on your finger, itâs a stab in the gut over and over and over. Someoneâs taken your most ridiculous and romantic fantasies and turned them into a waking nightmare. You wake up to him every day, eat at the same table, share the same house, and you two couldnât be further apart.Â
You have to keep up appearances, Logan is sure thatâs the only reason youâve joined him this morning. Heâs working on the truck while you kneel on a foam pad, planting a rose bush by the mailbox. But the way youâre stabbing the shovel into the ground it looks more like murder than it does gardening. You slam the little trowel into the dirt, lips pulled back like a wild animal as dirt flies up around your hair.Â
Logan turns back to the truck, letting out a low whistle under his breath. Besides the insane display of shrubbery abuse, you blend into the neighborhood better than he ever could. You fit that perfect suburban aesthetic, sun hat, cat-eye sunglasses, and a pretty dress.Â
Youâre good at blending in, better than he ever was. Heâs heard you joking about it before. Telling Jean your hidden mutant ability is learning to be a chameleon, fitting yourself wherever you are. He thinks itâs a cute idea, and not too far from the truth.Â
He only wishes he were a little more like that. He sticks out like a sore thumb with his wifebeater, fraying jeans, and general countenance of misery. He canât force a smile when John walks by with a shitty joke. Heâs not like you. You stomach all of the womenâs vapid nonsense with a smile and manage to seem so unaffected by it all.Â
The only time heâs seen you break was last night. And that, of course, had been his fault. He wishes he was better with his words. Heâs always been an action man, but clearly, heâs fucked that up with you too. He really did mean it as a compliment.Â
Heâs just incapable of talking without his foot in his mouth when it comes to you. Itâs why he tends to just avoid you and stay quiet. He knows heâll mess up with you eventually. In the rare chance you ever actually give him a second look, heâd be a shitty boyfriend. And even if you were just friends, heâd still fuck up somehow. He always does.Â
Heâs learned itâs better to just keep a distance between himself and others. Especially you. Heâs always just wanted to keep you away from his bullshit. The haunted past he still knows so little about, all the mental baggage he carries, he never wanted to burden you with it. Even though it seems like he still managed to screw up somehow.Â
Even when heâs trying to be good heâs still the bad guy.Â
You let out a heavy sigh and his gaze drifts back towards you. The way it always seems to do. Youâre his sun, bright, beaming, a golden beacon of hope. But heâs always just too far, eclipsing the light you might bring him with his own stupidity.Â
You toss the trowel to the ground and stand up. You frown, brushing off all the dirt youâre absolutely caked in. When he peers around you and glances at the spot where the rose bush is supposed to be all he sees is a crater of earth and ripped up grass. He figures it's better not to mention it.Â
You walk over to him, the same scowl youâve had for the past few days ever-present on your face. âIâm going to take a shower,â you look at him expectantly and he shrugs. You let out a loud sigh and he canât possibly imagine how heâs messed up now. âYou need one too, the barbecues in an hour.â
Heâd forgotten about the fucking barbecue. Some annual thing Shiela and John threw that the whole neighborhood went to. âIt doesnât take me an hour to get ready,â he tells you, intending a little bit of playfulness.Â
Instead, you just let out an exasperated breath and storm back into the house. How did he keep fucking up with you so badly?
Heâs gotten a taste of your personality, your company. Heâs tried for so long to avoid getting to know you. He knows that if he truly did, heâd never get over you. He was right. Just one taste of you and he wants more, he wants to consume everything about you that he can. Heâs screwed up in so many ways but he canât just go back to normal after this and act like strangers.Â
You smooth the wrinkles out of your cotton dress and let out a low breath. âYou need another minute?â Logan grumps from beside you, his stare boring into the door. He didnât want to come to this. Frankly, neither did you, but he needs to suck it up and be a big boy. You two are here for a purpose greater than yourselves.Â
Maybe if you repeat that enough times youâll start to believe it.Â
Kimiko was everywhere that Shiela was. She was her shadow, her loyalist servant. And the only person in this neighborhood whoâs shown a sliver of consciousness. You donât know where she lives, or if she even owns a house here. But you do know sheâll be at this barbecue tonight.Â
The only reason youâre bothering to bring Logan along is because you need him to distract Shiela. She drools every time she sees him, practically licking her maw at the sight of him in a tight t-shirt. You canât really blame her, but sheâs a married woman and heâs technically a married man. The lack of shame and compassion is genuinely astonishing to you.Â
âNo. Letâs just get this over with.â He needs no further prompting as he knocks heavily on the door. Each pound of his fist sounds like a bell tolling your doom. The intense feeling of nausea and eyes on the back of your head has developed and grown increasingly worse the longer youâre here.Â
You feel like someoneâs pressing against your mind, wiggling their fingers in and squeezing until mush slips through their knuckles. You keep a tight grip on Logan so you donât tip over. Playing it off as the love-sick newlyweds youâre meant to be.Â
Even though the feeling of his skin against yours makes you angrier than you can even begin to fathom. Youâve held onto built-up resentment and anger ever since your little tiff. Youâve heard that tumultuous times are common in the beginnings of marriages. Luckily, youâre getting a divorce the second this fucking mission is over.Â
You resent Charles for ever sending you here. Any minuscule hopes youâve had of finally building a relationship with Logan have been dashed across your front yard. Thereâs no hope for him. Heâll never change, and how he treats you will never change.Â
The door swings open and the music from the backyard drifts through to the front. Shiela smiles widely, greeting you both with a drawn-out Hi! She reaches forward and grabs Logan, tugging him away from you and dragging him into a hug.Â
You stumble forward as your support is ripped out from under you. She briefly glances over his shoulder at you and you offer her a sardonic smile. Every bit of you wants to dig your nails into her and rip until chunks of her start flying off. The post beside you warps slightly, bending like itâs melting.Â
You dig your nails into your palm, swallowing down your anger, and force the post upright once more. Logan grabs Shiela by the waist, practically yanking her off of him. He steps back towards you, wrapping his arm around your waist.Â
You canât help the smug smile that lifts your lips as you face her. You almost want to rub her face in it. He chose you and he canât stand you, that says a lot about how he feels about her. You stop yourself, though, itâd be beyond idiotic to let that be the reason your cover is blown.Â
âThanks for inviting us,â you tell Shiela, playing oblivious instead of walking into her trap. You pass her the casserole you half-assed and baked in her dish. âWeâre so excited to finally have a home to call our own, and with such wonderful neighbors,â you gasp dreamily. âOh, itâs just a dream come true.â
Shiela runs a manicured nail along the side of her lip, looking wholly unimpressed. âMhm,â she hums, âIâm sure.â You share a look with Logan, both of you caught off guard by her sudden dip in personality. Her face is blank, devoid of the usual overwrought happiness and charm. Itâs like somethingâs taken control and drained the life from her.Â
Either Kimikoâs here and youâre right about her, or, Shiela is just a depressed housewife who canât always control when she smiles. Youâre hoping itâs Kimiko and you can just end this once and for all.Â
âAlright,â sheâs back in a second like nothing ever happened. The boom of her voice echoing through the foyer makes you jump. âLetâs get you two outside. And thank you so much for this,â she gestures to the casserole. âYouâre just such a sweet little thing arenât you?â
Everything she says to you feels just a tad patronizing. Sheâs incapable of complimenting you without minimizing you in some way. You dismiss it, shaking off the funk she always seems to put you in.Â
Shiela leads you to the backdoor of her porch where the rest of the neighborhood is. She certainly got the best square footage, thatâs for sure. She doesnât just have the biggest house, sheâs also got the biggest yard youâve ever stepped foot on.Â
People are milling about, Johnâs flipping hamburgers on the grill, and children are playing happily with one another. It feels like an advert for the Fourth of July.
You scan the yard for the only person youâre looking for. You spot her, pushed back towards the shadow of Shielaâs oak tree. Shiela follows your gaze with a frown and scoffs. âI know, hideous isnât it?â
You jump, startled out of your stupor. âSorry?â
She points towards the tree. âI wanted to get rid of it, but apparently itâs historic,â she throws up air quotes, inflecting her voice lazily, âor something stupid.â
âOh, right,â you nod dismissively and she shrugs, hands slapping against her thighs as she nods to her yard.Â
âWell, go on, socialize, make yourself at home yâall.â She walks back into the house and you glance back at the yard.Â
âShit,â you hiss, âKimikoâs gone.â You move away from Logan and take a step down the stairs, he begins to follow you but you stop him with a firm hand to his chest. He frowns down at you and you nod towards Shiela. âI need you playing interception. Those two are attached at the hip. The only thing thatâs going to distract her is the hunk of meat sheâs been drooling over.âÂ
Logan frowns and takes a step back. He sets his face and crosses his arms and you sigh, knowing exactly what heâs about to say. âNo.â He tells you firmly, not even bothering to hear you out.Â
âWell,â you shrug. âToo bad, I need you to do this or weâre never getting out of here.â
He mocks your shrug and nods, âAlright. Fine.â He leans into your space and you feel like youâre being scolded, âIâm not leaving you on your own, okay? And Iâm not letting you go after Kimiko alone.â
âIâm not going after her,â you glance around, making sure no one is listening to you talk about their neighbor like sheâs on a hit list. âI just need one interrupted conversation with her. Just one,â youâre practically pleading with him at this point.Â
You feel pathetic. Youâre a grown woman and an X-Men. You shouldnât have to be bartering with Logan. He should just have some faith in your abilities to not only protect yourself but conduct yourself appropriately on a mission.Â
His face screws up in irritation and you know heâs about to really cause a scene. Heâll start arguing with you, and blow your spot up just to get you out of here. You give him a placating smile, a real one because heâs somehow learned to tell the difference. âLogan, itâs only for an hour. Iâm sure you can fend Shiela off,â you joke to try and lighten the mood.
He sucks in a deep breath and you know youâve got him when his shoulders sink in defeat. âFine. Iâm only agreeing to this because youâre practically a chameleon with this shit,â he gestures vaguely to the barbecue and your face pinches with confusion.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âI heard you talking about it with Jean one day. How youâre a chameleon when it comes to blending in with people.â
âWell, that wasnât exactly a brag. Itâs a method of survival, a way to make people like me. It gives me a fighting chance when they find out Iâm a mutant.â God, why are you even talking about this? Why had he even been listening to your conversation with Jean?
He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but you donât have time for that. âLook, Logan, just go find Shiela.â You walk away from him before he can drudge up more uncomfortable memories of high school.Â
You manage to slip through the party relatively unnoticed. You didnât see where Kimiko had disappeared to. Youâre hoping there might be some sort of hint left where she had been. You rush towards the oak tree, using it as a way to scan the party for her again. From here you canât see anything except the kitchen. Â
Youâve got a perfect view of Logan trudging towards Shiela. You canât help but laugh when she wraps her hand around his bicep, eagerly telling him something. You smile and shake your head, the audacity of this woman is amazing.Â
Something catches your eye, right by your foot. Glancing down you see something silver glinting through the grass. Frowning, you kneel and scoop it up. Itâs an oblong device, small, and fits in the palm of your hand. Itâs curved oddly, and the lights on it start flashing bright red as you hold it.
âWhat the hell?â You flip it over, a warped mirrored reflection on the back of it. You just barely spot Kimikoâs twisted face in the reflection before the world goes black.Â
You groan, slowly blinking the fog of a forced sleep out of your eyes. You reach to swipe at your face, but something is holding your wrists down. You jerk your arms a few times, struggling against whatever restraints are wrapped around you. When nothing happens, you instead focus on the feeling of it against your wrist, trying to get it to dissolve.Â
âDonât bother,â a cool voice calls out from the shadows. Thereâs one bright light shining down on you, like the type you might see above an operating table. The entire room feels sterile. And itâs cold, you can barely feel the tips of your toes or fingers.Â
âWhatâd you do?â You demand, trying to sound intimidating but your words come out as a slur. The back of your head radiates pain and it takes everything in you just to keep your eyes open.Â
âI developed a gas,â the voice circles the room, echoing across the curved walls. You hear footsteps but you canât tell where theyâre coming from. âIt halts the neurons in a mutantâs brain that fire when they use their abilities. Temporary, but quite handy when Iâm dealing with a mentalist like you.â
Kimiko steps out of the shadows like a bad comic book villain. Her face is blank, no expression on it, somehow, itâs the realest sheâs ever looked before. Here, you can see her humanity. Pores across her nose, frizz and oil along her hair, her nose just a little bit crooked. Whatever sheâd been doing to herself has been wiped away. And the human woman lurking beneath is finally revealed.Â
âThere you are,â you mutter, your speech slowly coming back to you. âI knew that plastic face wasnât real.â
âEverything was going just fine until you and Wolverine got here,â she gives you a sharp look, âFlux.â
You sarcastically gasp, âWow, you know my X-Men name. Itâs not like I havenât been interviewed before. Whatâs the plan here, Kimiko? Where are the others?â
Her brows pinch, âOthers?â
âThe mutants youâre trafficking.â
âOh,â she laughs and itâs so jarring you nearly jump. âIs that what people think?â Hesitantly, you nod, but youâre beginning to feel like you might have gotten something very wrong. âNo, thatâs not what weâre doing here.â
âWe?â
âShiela and I. We have much simpler plans, much more peaceful. You see, Shielaâs the only person to ever stand beside me after she found out I was a mutant. She gave me a home, a friend, and a sense of belonging.â Thereâs something devout in her words, like a humble follower kneeling at the feet of their god. âEverything I have, everything I am, I owe to her.â
Youâve seen Shielaâs manipulation firsthand. You have no doubt that sheâs never actually done anything for Kimiko. Sheâs just made her think she had and instilled in her this sense of owing her something.Â
Then again, Kimikoâs getting this look on her face. Sheâs like a rabid dog staring down the barrel of their ownerâs shotgun. Perhaps she hadnât needed much prompting to develop such an unhealthy attachment. âShielaâs parents never loved her the way they should have. They never gave her the perfect life she deserved. So I created one for her.â
She rolls a tray of surgical tools over and a sense of panic finally starts to rouse within you. Yet, for the first time in years, your powers arenât here to help you. You have nothing to rely on but yourself. But youâve been trained so intensively in using your abilities as a protector rather than an inhibitor that youâre practically useless without them.Â
âAll these people,â you rush the words out as she picks up a syringe. You donât know what the yellow liquid inside is, but from the look on her face, you donât want to. âYouâre controlling them?â
Kimiko nods and youâd be staggering if you werenât strapped down. Not even Charles could control this many people at once. Not without Cerebro. âKimiko, thatâs,â you gasp, flinching away as she brings the needle towards your arms. âItâs incredible!â Your quick rise in volume makes her jolt and the syringe tumbles out of her hands.Â
She grumbles to herself, leaning over to pick it up. âDoes Shiela know?â She pauses at the mention of Shielaâs name, brushing her hair over her shoulder and glaring at you.Â
âYes. Of course she does, this is my greatest gift to her.â
âReally?â Your voice drips with contrived empathy. âThen Iâm sure sheâs done something incredible for you back.â You were hoping a simple manipulation tactic might work, that you could turn Kimiko against an ungrateful Shiela. But this type of obsession isnât one that canât be destabilized with a few jumbled words.Â
No, you only make her angrier. âBack? Back?â she practically screams, her voice raw and feral as she leaps into your face. You flinch as far back as you can as her face hovers over yours, screaming right at you. âI owe her everything! I should thank her for letting me breathe the same air as hers!â
Your jaw drops, a silent scream tripping out of your mouth as you gasp for air. Something squeezes against your brain, the pulsing from before returns with a vengeance. You can feel your mind pulsing and swelling, pushing against your skull.Â
âDonât fucking say her name again,â Kimiko glares down at you, her eyes devoid of any remorse or compassion as she makes your brain swell until blood leaks down your ears. Whatever plan she had before has been abandoned, sheâs going to just kill you now.Â
Youâre going to die in her basement, no one will ever see you again. Your eyes throb and you feel your brain push to its fullest limits. The pressure builds, builds, and builds until it explodes.Â
âThen you just pour a little sugar in.â Logan watches as Shiela tips nearly an entire bag of cane sugar into her jug of sweet tea. His stomach shrivels at the sight and he fights down bile. A little bit of sugar drops over the edge. She catches it on her finger and looks over her shoulder, licking the sugar off and practically deepthroating her own finger. All while maintaining a disturbing amount of eye contact with Logan.Â
âWell,â he knows that he promised you a while with Kimiko, but he canât handle much more of this. âThank you so much for this,â he struggles with the word, landing weakly on, âlesson.â Heâs not even sure what the point of watching her prepare all this food was.Â
Heâs pretty sure she just wanted him to see her leave a rim of red lipstick at the bottom of her finger as many times as possible. The entire time heâs just wanted to go back to you. Thereâs a nasty feeling gnawing at him and he knows he needs to get back to you soon.Â
âOh,â she seems genuinely disappointed and Logan sighs awkwardly. âLeaving already, huh?â
He points to his ring pointedly reminding her of the reality of their situation. âGotta get back to the wife.â
She doesnât even try to hide her sneer as he mentions you. âOf course, just the perfect husband arenât you?â
Logan doesnât dignify that with a response, too distracted by whatâs happening outside the window. People have begun to wander around aimlessly, some of them stumbling into the fencing. They just keep walking forward, knocking into the wood repeatedly, not once stopping. Johnâs got a stuck smile on his face as he leans against the grill, Logan can see smoke rising from where the flesh of his palm is melting onto the metal. A few people all run into each other, collapsing on the ground and just lying there.Â
Theyâre like robots, suddenly without command and unsure what to do. Theyâre following their programming without anyone putting a stop to it. Shiela follows his gaze and gasps. âExcuse me,â she mutters, practically running out of the room.Â
Logan tries to find you amongst all the mess but youâre nowhere to be seen. âFuck,â he growls out, looking back to where Shiela had run. He should have fucking known not to leave you on your own.Â
He stalks after Shiela, listening to her racing heart and the slam of a downstairs door. He follows her down the steps leading to her basement. It looks the same as every other one heâs ever been in. Except, for the metal door hidden behind a few shelving units. The only reason he spots it is because Shiela knocked over a can of paint in her rush toward it.Â
Anger brews hot and putrid in his gut. The claws come out unbidden, and the thought of you being locked away in that room pushes him forward. If youâre not in there, heâll get an answer from Shiela one way or another. But heâs not going to let you get hurt because he didnât have your back.Â
âWhat the hell are you doing?â A shrill voice interrupts. Your head sinks back against the cool material of the table, brain surging back into place. Your teeth ache, white-hot pain rushing through your bones as Kimiko finally releases her grasp on you.Â
Kimiko gives Shiela the look of a dog who just got in trouble. âShe found my amplifying device. I have to get rid of her.â She holds the device you found earlier out to Shiela.Â
So, she wasnât as powerful as she pretended. She did need help. It explains why the entire neighborhood is always in the same area, she needs them close to keep control. âWhatever youâre doing is making my toys malfunction.â
Shiela hisses at Kimiko, she darts forward and slaps her hard across the back of the head. If you werenât in excruciating and paralyzing pain, youâd flinch at the sound. Being as if your brain was just about to explode, though, you could give less of a shit if she beats her rabid dog up.Â
These two crazy bitches deserve each other. You just want a Tylenol and a nap at this point. âWell, arenât you two twisted sisters?â Logan slips through the door, his claws glinting under the light of the room. âToys?â He demands, eyes roaming the room desperately.Â
The second he sees you, strapped down and with blood pouring from your orifices, something slips over his face. Itâs like a mask being ripped off. The man he pretends to be is ripped apart by the animal truly lurking within him. Neither women have time to even defend themselves. He goes for Kimiko first and all you see his claws plunging down before arterial blood sprays across your face.Â
You groan, tilting your chin the other way and spitting the metallic liquid out of your mouth. There are a long few minutes of screaming, clothes shredding, and blood splashing against every surface of the room. By the time heâs completely calmed down, youâre drenched in it.Â
You suck on your teeth, rolling your head limply and finally getting a good look at him. Heâs panting, standing over their mutilated corpses with blood dripping down his claws. Thereâs a wrath on his face youâre happy to have never been on the other end of. But the second he looks at you, you see nothing but stark relief.Â
He breathes out your name, your real one, and surges towards you. âClaws!â You shout, hurting your head again. But he was a second away from accidentally skewering you. Theyâre put away in an instant as he undoes the straps holding you down.Â
You groan in relief as the pressure around your head and limbs is released. He perches himself on the edge of the table and scoops you into his chest.
Youâre still loopy from Kimiko messing around in the grooves of your brain. The best you can manage is weakly draping your arms along his sides. He pulls you back and brushes the hair out of your face, laughing a little at the blood covering you. âThey do anything to you?â
You shrug, âBesides turn my brain into a pressure cooker? No.â
The smile drops from his face and he glares down at the remains of the women. If you werenât so tired, youâd think he wants to kill them again. âI should have been here.â
âLogan-â You want to tell him not to be ridiculous. You had insisted you could take care of yourself. Told him it would only be a conversation when you knew that was never going to be true. Youâd gotten yourself into this, you were lucky he was there to get you out. But you donât say anything because he interrupts you as he so often does.Â
âI canât keep acting like this is all okay. Like Iâm happy with how we treat each other. I thought I was going to lose you, Iâm not going to keep pretending I donât care about you.â
Your face screws up in confusion and youâre not sure you want to hear where heâs going with this. Youâve been used to this dynamic between the two of you for so long. Youâre used to him treating you like he can't stand to breathe the same air as you. If this is going where you think it is, youâre not sure you can handle it.Â
âLogan,â youâre regaining some feeling in your limbs now. You use the returning strength to push away from him, shaking your head in disbelief. âNo, you canât do this. You canât just change your-â
Heâs incapable of letting you finish a single sentence. His hands wrap around your cheeks tugging you forward until your lips are brushing together. Itâs enough of a shock to get you to stop talking. You donât reciprocate, too stunned to even think about moving.Â
He brushes his lips against yours again, firmer this time. Under the layers of blood coating you both, youâre wholly enveloped by him. His scent, his arms, everything about him drapes over you like a warm blanket. Against your better judgment, you find yourself returning the kiss.Â
You move further into his lap, one hand holding his face and the other clutching at his hair, needing something to hold to keep you steady in this moment. Logan smiles against your lips, deepening the kiss without wasting another beat. His tongue moves gently across yours at first. A curious caress to see how well you two fit together. He groans when he gets a taste of you, pushing further in and kissing you like he wants to devour you. Â
Thereâs warmth blooming in your stomach and spreading all along your body. Youâre buzzing with adrenaline and pain and this unidentifiable feeling that Logan is evoking from you. Itâs not the sweet mushy, romantic kiss you always imagined with him.Â
This is desperate. Like a dying manâs last attempt at redemption. Heâs tasting you like youâre rare, something to be savored. You feel like youâre the only thing left in existence. The only person left for him to admire. You forget the gore behind you, the tumultuous experiences youâve had with him.Â
You let yourself fall into the moment, a blind leap of faith into a pool of all your hopes and desires. Heâs better than you ever could have imagined. More desperate than your wildest fantasies. He makes no move to stop, even as the air becomes scarce and you both have to part longer. He just grips you tighter, hands wrapped around you like heâs worried if he lets go heâll lose you.Â
He could, he could lose you. This kiss of his is putting you into a trance, distracting you from all heâs trying to make up for. Perhaps if he stops kissing you, youâll remember it all and want nothing to do with him. But you donât see that happening, you just see yourself craving more and more for him., You feel the addiction forming already. A deep-seated need in your bones is finally being sated, it will always need more from him.Â
When you can no longer survive on the shared oxygen between you both, youâre forced to part. Your cheeks tingle from the stubble of his beard and you know your lips are pink and swollen because his are too. Youâre both still coated in blood and you share a familiar glean in your eyes.Â
âI never hated you,â he sounds breathless and you love that youâre the cause of it. âI just didnât want to lose you.â
You scoff, but there are no cruel intentions behind it. âSo you push me away before you ever get a chance to have me?â
He gives you a crooked smile, âI never said I was smart.â You canât help but laugh at that. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, ignoring the puddles of blood and bits. âWe'll have to call Charles. He needs to help the people out there.â
âWe also need to let him know thereâs no trafficking ring. Just one fucked psyche.â You shoot another glare at the pile that was Kimiko, still bitter about her experiment with your brain. As Logan helps you up the stairs of the basement, you stop him just before you reach the door.Â
He gives you a concerned look, like he thinks youâve hurt something somehow. âI want to talk to you. Really talk to you about everything.â Concern gives way to dread and you canât help but smile at the regretful look on his face. âBut first,â his head perks in interest at your tone, âmaybe we can finally enjoy that master bed together?â
âYou know,â he leans down, swiping his arms under your knees and lifting you. You gasp, through your arms around his neck and squeezing until you worry you might suffocate him. âYou really are the smart one of us, arenât you?â
âClearly.â
Youâre not sure how well this transition to married couple to tentatively something else is going to go. But you have hope and it's kept you going for all these years. What's wrong with letting it linger a little longer?
a/n: Guess who's back, back again? Hint, it's Flux. I missed writing for them, so I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. Although, I worry the ending was too cheesy.
Reblogs, comments, likes, and requests are always appreciated !!
end. â I do not own the characters or the comics/movies X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett#wolverine x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x y/n#wolverine imagine#wolverine#hugh jackman#hugh jackman x reader#hugh jackman x you#hugh jackman x y/n#anon
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DPxDC John Constantine's How To: Ghost Kids (pt.2)
[<- part 1]
"Oh, yeah," John jerks his head up like he just remembered the fact people are supposed to have names at all. He gestures to the kids, pointing to each of them as he introduces, "Daniel, Daniel, and Danielle."
This time, all three kids flip him off simultaneously. Bruce clears his throat, trying to figure out if Constantine is messing with him and, if so, in which parts. Since, so far, everything the man has said sounds like a poor attempt at pulling his leg.
"I don't think they like those," he cautiously says, and the kids whip their heads at him, nodding furiously. Bruce can't help but be just a little enamored with the way they behave.
"Of, sod off, at this point I don't care what they like," John straightens up with a dismissive, albeit weak, wave of his hands, and rubs his face, "They are menaces. Sometimes by accident, but mostly on purpose. Their grandfather thought it would be easier to handle them if they were not teenagers, and while I agreed with his reasoning at the time, I-" he glances at the kids, who all have displeased grimaces of various levels on their faces, "I have been made to reconsider. I swear that ancient bitch is laughing his ass off wherever he is now."
The kids suddenly grin. They are not very friendly, nor polite smiles - if anything, they look a bit nightmarish. An old grandfather's clock in his study makes a very loud ticking noise.
"See?" John whips his head to look at said clock, the expression on his face bordering on insane. His eye twitches.
If Bruce doesn't do anything now, he might become one of the very few people who managed to witness John Constantine, the Laughing Magician, have a meltdown. So he sighs and decides to solve the problems one at a time.
Which means that no matter how alarmed or suspicious he is, his first move would not be to interrogate either the man or the kids.
"You can sleep in one of the guest rooms, I trust you can find it on your own," he tells John, almost softly, as he catches the girl from slipping away from his lap, "Is there anything I need to know about children before you fall unconscious?"
John slumps with relief, so obviously that Bruce almost smiles. Hardships of raising - or, watching, for that matter - kids, he understands.
"Yes," he breathes out with an air of exhilaration and turns to the kids again, pointing to the middle child, "Danny is the original. He is from this dimension and timeline, that is. Dan," he turns his finger to the older boy, "is in the wrong timeline, he's Danny's future evil self redeemed into older bratty brother. Dani," he switches to the girl, "is Danny's clone, made by his arch-nemesis of a godfather. If she starts melting at any point, wake me up immediately. If any of them start floating, sprouting tentacles, speaking to walls in static, or glowing, don't."
Bruce looks down to the kids. So, definitely metas, that would explain the government trying to get them... Or, no, it wouldn't because he is fairly certain no government is going to blatantly ignore the Meta Protection Acts.
"Don't let them raise the dead, and if you give them food, make sure it doesn't have a face. If you find more than three of them, it means one of them has duplicated, don't worry, they will absorb it back later. Absolutely don't let them touch any guns," Constantine is backing down to the door as he speaks, his gaze flickering from the kids to Bruce and back every second. Like he is leaving a ticking bomb in Bruce's lap, and not three children. "Danny is, comparatively, the most responsible one, the other two are up for any dubious trouble they can get to at any moment. Oh, and their memories are wonky because of de-aging, they remember some things but not others, so if they say something particularly disturbing, it's most likely some random piece of knowledge they managed to keep."
Bruce raises an eyebrow. He did get the part about the kids being, well, abnormal in the matters of their origins, but the disjointed set of rules and advices doesn't help as much as Constantine probably thinks it does.
"Allergies, preferences, ages they were before?" He tries to get at least some more info down before John disappears through the door. Actually, maybe he should send someone to handcuff the man to the bed lest he disappears completely.
"None, but don't let them eat cutlery. Danny likes space, Dani has a thing for exploring, and Dan likes violence." The older kid stirs in Bruce's lap and says something in the direction of Constantine. No sound comes out, but the man seems to get what he's trying to say anyway, "Okay, yes, that was rude of me, sorry. Dan likes... exercise," he ends up with, and that placate the boy enough to slump down and cross his arms. John sighs, "They were seventeen, fourteen, and twenty respectively. Now," he snaps his fingers, and suddenly Bruce can hear the girl - Dani - humming a tune under her breath. So, he lifted the silence spell, it seems.
"Good fucking luck," John wishes to Bruce, earnestly, and all but vanishes away.
Bruce sighs and looks down to the kids.
"Are you hungry?" He tries, and all eyes are on him at once, attentive and unblinking.
"Fruitloops," Danny says, and while Bruce is positive that's the name for a cereal, he gets a feeling that's not what the kid meant.
#danny phantom#dc x dp#dpxdc#batman#batfam#john constantine#bruce wayne#dan phantom#dani phantom#de aged danny#de aged dani#de aged dan#constantine the tired mom#bruce the dad who was suddenly left in charge#and the three ghost kid menaces#cork writes#cork prompts#and im done with this ficlet#feel free to keep going#no part 3#sorry
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