#and you just instantly go i wish they were DEAD.

[trader-scars]

jimmy was probably praying not to be last but arguably it's much funnier if you imagine he was just praying for mumbos downfall specifically

[deathsmallcaps]

Ok when I reblogged this last night, I picked 3rd because that’s what I’ve heard, but I also said maybe a little bit #4? Because at the time I thought ‘well something not really mattering to you = a sort of rejection” so I was a little confused as to how they were separate options?

And then when I woke up and I saw this I remembered that the ‘rejection’ idea was an antisemitic talking point. As in supposedly you saw the undeniable truth of Jesus and were like nah.

So I’m not sure how else it could’ve been worded - it was quickly visible to me after a good night’s sleep - but I wonder how many other people were thinking similarly to me when they picked #4, and how many are genuinely antisemitic. But I hope there’s just a lot of confused people.

[areyouwell]

Nyctophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of the dark. Children or adults may have Nyctophobia if they are afraid to be left alone in darkness

Ch.1

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: None as of yet, but we'll get there ;)

Word count: 9.2k

A/N: RIGHT FUCKERS ITS TIME. i don't think i've written a fic this long in goddamn years but here we are. DEFO ooc Logan and also timeline what timeline? Kitty is older than the rest of the students cuz i love her and i said so. reader's mutation is currently shadow-walking but that'll develop as we go on so slay boots. also I have no concept of word limits sooooo 9k chapter let's fucking go

How long had it been? Six months? A year? Two years? Honestly, you couldn’t recall. It felt like it had been forever since ol’ Charlie had sent you travelling the continent. Sure, it had been your idea to try and find mutants before they experience the most traumatic event of their lives, but you didn’t think he’d send you, and certainly not immediately. Though you were glad he did, you didn’t think Scott would make as good an impression as you could.

But, now you were back. Thank fuck. You could finally rest your weary legs and put down your heavy-as-shit bag. And at least now you could work on developing your mutation. Shadow walking. Or at least, it is now. You thought that was the extent of what you could do, just disappear and reappear whenever and wherever there happened to be a shadow cast on the ground. Or on a wall. Or anywhere really. But, Xavier had gently suggested that, perhaps, those shadows could be manipulated one way or another. You wished to fuck you knew how because your bag was all but cutting right through your shoulder.

Your boots crunched against the gravel as you took a deep breath, making your way inside. It was nice to notice nothing had changed. The lawn was still neatly mowed, brickwork hadn’t aged a day. It smelt like comfort. It smelt like home. But before you could even knock on the door, at least being courteous enough not to slip through the shadows, the oak burst open and two unidentified arms had wrapped themselves around your neck in one of the most warming hugs you’d ever received, accompanied by a high pitch squeal.

You knew instantly who that would be. Brown hair spilled across her shoulders, smelling faintly of lavender. “Hey Kitty,” you grinned, dropping your bag to return her tight embrace. It truly did feel like forever.

“I’m so happy to see you it’s been years! We thought you were never coming back! Scott thought you’d died and Charles wasn’t telling us, Logan didn’t think you even existed and that we were all lying, Jean thought you’d just got sick of this place and dipped, it was carnage!” She rambled, her deep brown eyes sparkling slightly. You had to take a minute to actually comprehend what the fuck she was saying before your lips split into a broad smile.

“Well, I can tell you that I’m not dead, at least not yet, and I do very much exist and I am not sick of this place despite what Jean may think. And– wait who’s Logan?” Your brain had only just caught up with the fact that Kit had mentioned a name completely unfamiliar to you. Just how long had you been gone?

“Oh, right yeah. A new teacher,” Kitty kept one arm around your shoulder as she guided you back inside, stopping only when you realised your bag was still left discarded by the front door. “He uh, sorta took your position as PE and combat professor… sorry.” She looked genuinely apologetic, whilst internally, you couldn’t be more grateful. You always thought you weren’t ever cut out to teach, and whilst you sometimes enjoyed it, you were always too worried about the kids being hurt. 

“I’m hurt, a girl’s gone for a year or two and you replace her? What kind of school is this?” you cracked a smile, Kitty’s face morphing from remorse to relief. She really thought you’d be upset? You were touched. “Anyway, what time is it? Where is everyone? I thought classes stopped at–” You were cut off abruptly upon entering the lounge.

“Welcome back!” you covered your face at the chorus of voices, laughing behind your hands before clutching your heart dramatically. 

“Christ! You’ve all just knocked five years off my life!” you grinned, faces both familiar and unfamiliar laughing and smiling just to see you.

“They’ve been looking forward to this for days. Ever since rumour of your return started circulating, they’ve been pestering us nonstop for a date. Eventually, someone caved,” You didn’t need to see Scott’s eyes in order to know he was giving Kitty a pointed look behind his glasses. You looked back to see her looking sheepish.

“Yeah well… they can be really persuasive.” She shrugged, taking your bag off your shoulder and placing it out of the way. You sighed at the loss of weight, rolling your joint slightly. 

“It’s good to see you,” Scott pulled you in for a brief hug, clapping your back once before pulling back, letting the rest of your friends and pupils make their way over. You were consumed by various arms of embraces, questions about your travels, introductions to new students, reminiscing with old students. It was quite possibly the best moment you’d had since you left. But a face caught your eye at the back of the crowd. A young girl, with the same dark brown hair you remember, only now a streak of brilliant white framed her face.

You made your way over, shuffling through the crowd, clasping hands and shoulders with people you knew before finally getting to her.

“Hey you,” you smiled gently, remembering how timid and easy to scare she used to be. You were caught off guard completely by her sudden bright smile. 

“Hey.”

“How long’ve you been here? I didn’t actually think you’d listen to me to be brutally honest with you, thought you’d just shrug it off and continue your own path,” you were relieved to see she had listened to what you’d said two years ago. You’d urged her down this path, to find the school. You’d already known Charles would take her, it was just a matter of her taking herself here.

“Uh… about that…” you’d only seen a smile that sheepish on Kitty. You cocked a brow, head tilting to the side slightly before a hand on your shoulder caused you to whirl. But it was just Ororo. Clearly, your travels had affected you more than you originally thought. 

But Storm wasn’t looking at you, you could only see the back of her white hair as she frantically waved at someone through the crowd, beckoning them over.

“Logan!”

Ah, you guess that made sense now.

Whoever you’d expected to walk through the crowd, you threw that image out your mental window the moment you saw him. 

Now you understood why he taught combat and PE… he was fucking ripped. White t-shirt leaving nothing to the imagination. The facial hair was an interesting choice, but you couldn’t say it didn’t suit him. He was very… rugged lumberjack looking.

You placed a hand on your hip, brows raised in intrigue as he made his way over. You don’t think you’d ever seen a grumpier-looking man. 

“Logan, this is Phantom,” your eyes slid to Ororo as she used your mutant name. 

“Ah, so you do exist,” his voice seemed a perfect match for the rest of him, just as rough and rugged as the worn jeans he was wearing. You nodded, mouth quirking into a small smirk.

“Heard there was some debate over that, glad I could put it to rest,” you outstretched your hand for him to shake, something you were surprised he actually did, calloused palm encasing your own.

“Can ya blame me?” He asked with a raised brow, dropping your hand after a beat too long. Clearly unaccustomed to civility, judging from his appearance. 

“Guess not. You’re also the son-of-a-bitch that stole my position, right?” You asked, wanting to be a lot more serious than you actually were being, but for some reason, you couldn’t help grinning slightly. 

“Language!” Storm elbowed you slightly. Guess you’d forgotten how to behave around the kids too.

Logan held his hands up in surrender. “In my defense, I didn’t think you existed,” though he also seemed serious, you thought you could detect something that could be perceived as humour in his hazel eyes. You couldn’t keep up your poorly constructed façade anymore, waving your hand as if to physically clear the air between the two of you.

“I’m kidding, you can keep it. In all honesty, I was never really cut out for it.” You shrugged. “Besides, I’m–”

“She’s being super modest by the way, she rocked as that professor!” Kitty called from the other side of the room, somehow managing to listen to your conversation. You didn’t know how, since the entire welcome party was still chatting way, but you cast her a withering look nonetheless. 

“So I’ve heard,” Logan’s eyes slid from Kitty back to you as you scoffed.

“Though, of course, it was purely hypothetical, since I didn’t exist and all.” You teased, gesturing to your very much existing self. You silently triumphed over the fact you managed to drag a small smile out of him, realising that making this man pull any other expression other than irritation was something to be proud of. 

You hadn’t realised how completely caught up in the introduction you’d been before you noticed the girl still standing next to you, eyes flicking between you and Logan with a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. 

“Anyway,” you continued pointedly, “you were saying? So you didn’t come to find this place?” your head tilted again slightly in confusion. “How did you end up here?”

Rogue looked from you to Logan, who’s eyes were still trained on you. You looked between them. “Nope, still confused. How did…?” 

“Well, after you found me, I did carry on my own path, which led me to some shady bar where Logan found me,” she explained quietly.

“More you found me but sure.” He shrugged. You could tell there was some kind of bond between them, one you could recognise was only built through trauma. You’d heard a little of what happened with Eric through Charles’ telepathic link, but he always reassured you to continue what you were doing. But you often wondered what could have happened if you’d returned. 

“So, you brought her here?” You asked, trying to prompt the story forward. Honestly, you wanted to know how he’d succeeded where you’d failed. You could be incredibly persuasive when you wanted to be, but Rogue was stubborn on another level. 

“Me? Nah, didn’t know this place existed at that point.”

“Seems to be a common theme with you,” you couldn’t help the subtle teasing grin spreading across your face, nor your laugh as he rolled his eyes skyward.

“Never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Not whilst I’m still breathing,” you winked, before turning your attention back to Rogue and completely missing the way his features shuddered slightly. “So how’d you get here if tall, dark, and broody over here didn’t know about this?” 

“Tall, dark, and– what?” He asked, bewildered.

Ororo snorted in amusement, before stepping in. “That would be us. We’d been tracking another mutant, Sabretooth, and he just so happened to be tracking Logan, or so we thought at the time. We found Sabretooth, and these two at the same time. Brought them both back.” 

You nodded in understanding, now finally having got through the whole story. Well, maybe not the whole story, you knew there were details you definitely were missing, but at least you got the jist.

“I see. Glad it wasn’t my lack of persuasive skills then. Though I guess a life or death situation isn’t much better. How’s your mutation coming along?” you asked, only now noticing the black, elbow-length gloves she was wearing. Ah.

“Still hard to control, but I’m getting better at it!” She looked genuinely enthusiastic about her mutation, so much so that it almost brought a tear to your eye. When you’d met her two years ago, you didn’t know if she even wanted help. She’d been so lost in her despair and self-loathing that you didn’t think she had long left with the way her mental health was going. So to see her so happy, your throat closed up slightly.

“I’m glad, I really am. You deserve this, Rogue. All of this,” you gestured to the room around, to the friends she’d made, to the haven she’d found.

“Oh, my name’s Marie. Guess I didn’t tell you before.” She shrugged, and you had to laugh to stop yourself from crying. 

“Marie it is.” Her story touched your heart, and to see she managed to get her happy ending… fuck you were so close to crying. You had to change the subject before you broke down in front of these people. “Oh hey, is my room still the same? Wouldn’t mind freshening up a little, been a long journey.” Two birds with one stone. You could leave the situation and cry in your bathroom whilst taking a shower so you didn’t smell like the wrong end of a skunk. Perfect!

“Uh…” Storm started.

“About that…” Kitty continued, coming over to stand alongside Storm. You looked between them, before shooting a glance to Logan who seemed to be showing absolutely no remorse.

“Your bed’s real comfy, bub” he smirked, and you gaped.

“You’re fucking kidding me?”

“Language!” both Ororo and Kitty said at the same time, and you winced.

“Fuck, sorry. Shit! Argh!” you gave up, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m not letting any of you off the hook. This is betrayal at its finest! Giving him my position I can handle, but my damn room? That’s shocking behaviour from the both of you!” You pointed at them accusingly, shooting a glare to the man next to you who was doing nothing but lowly chuckling. You breathe out a sigh. You had the best room in the whole mansion. Or at least you did, before Muscles McGee stole it from you.

“Don’t blame those two” Jean placed a calming hand on your shoulder. “we didn’t have another room made up when these two arrived. It was supposed to be temporary, but–”

“The view was too nice to pass up on,” Logan interjected. You realised he probably thought it was his turn to tease you. You knew that view was nice, it was overlooking the entire grounds behind the school. And whilst you were going to sorely miss it, you weren’t so heartless that you’d take it back from him. Besides, in a weird way, you felt like you owed him. He found Marie, and whatever transpired between them, she seemed happier now. You guessed you maybe had him to thank for that.

“Yeah yeah, alright fine. I concede. Where am I then?” you asked Jean, who broke into a broad smile.

“You’re in the one above, still got the same view, don’t worry,” she elbowed you slightly. That wasn’t so bad actually. Same view, same side of the mansion, just one story up? You breathed a sigh of relief. Yeah, you could do that.

“Good enough, I’m still mad about it though.” Your eyes narrowed at four of them, Logan included, before cracking your neck in preparation to take your bag all the way up the stairs.

Kitty clapped her hands excitedly, and you raised a brow in suspicion. “What’s got you so giddy?” you asked as she once again slid her arm across your shoulders, guiding you back towards the door. 

“Oh nothing, just glad you're home. It’s been kinda boring without you.” You laughed at that. With everything that’s been going on, you didn’t think any of them had time to be bored. But you appreciated the thought nonetheless. 

Eyeing your bag on the ground, there were times when you really wished your mutation involved some kind of super strength, because as happy as you were to be home and have a room just above your old one, you really didn’t want to lug that thing all the way up. And all the damn lights were on, so slipping up through the shadows was a no-go. You blew out a breath in preparation, rolling your shoulder once again, before you were stopped by a broad hand landing on your arm.

“I got it,” Logan’s voice weaved butterflies through your stomach. You hadn’t realised he was behind you before he was leaning down next to you and effortlessly slinging the bag over his own shoulder.

For the second time that afternoon, you gaped up at him, left almost speechless. 

“Super strength?” Was all you could say, hoping to Jesus he knew what you were asking. You watched his features morph from confusion to amusement as he shook his head slightly. 

“Nah, not quite.”

“Then how the fu–” you were reminded of the children present by a sharp elbow to the ribs from Kitty. “–uuun. How fun.” you gave up on your question, much to his mirth. The sight had your brain short-circuiting. You wouldn’t deny he was good-looking. You’d be fucking crazy to deny that. But there was something else hidden under all those knowing smirks and sharp glances. Something that you wouldn’t mind uncovering. 

Deciding that was a quest for another day, you turned abruptly on your heel, making your way to the staircase before once again stopping in your tracks. This was starting to get on your nerves a little. However, any irritation soon died as you finally saw Professor Xavier.

“Ah, I wondered whether the commotion was your return.”

You snorted a laugh. “No, you didn’t. You absolutely knew it was my return.” You quipped back, earning yourself a laugh from the man.

“As quick as ever. And I see you’ve met our Wolverine.” Charles nodded to Logan next to you, and you turned to him in bemusement. 

“Wolverine? Seriously?” you asked, laughing at his shrug. “Can’t think why…” your sarcastic jab paired with your pointed looks from his hair to his body brought another amused smirk from the man. 

“I thought you two would get along. Get yourself settled back in and meet me in my office and your earliest convenience.” You nodded back to Xavier, unable to take a moment to process what he meant when he said he thought you and Logan would get along before Kitty began dragging you towards the stairs.

“C’mon! You’re gonna love it!”You were slightly worried about what it was but followed her nonetheless.

Logan had to admit, he didn’t mind carrying your bag up four flights of stairs. It wasn’t the worst way to spend his afternoon. And as much as he wasn’t the kind of guy to stare at a woman’s ass, he wasn’t mad that he was behind you. 

Everything he’d been told about you had been proven correct. At least, everything he’d seen so far. Whether or not you could hold yourself in a fight was up for debate, but everything else, your wit, your charm, heartbreaking kindness, humour… it was all right there in front of him. 

Literally.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d had to bite back a smile or a laugh, stunned by the fact that you actually managed to break through and pull both from him. Even now, as you paused before the landing that lead to your old room and sighed wistfully, had had to stop himself grinning. And he was glad you turned back around quickly after throwing him a pointed glare over your shoulder because that was another smile he was struggling to rein in. Fuck, how did you do it? He’d only known you for half an hour and he’d displayed more expression than he had in his whole two years of being here. 

He was in huge trouble. 

The stairs finally flattened out to the top floor landing, Kitty still leading the way down the corridor until the final room. It was isolated, like his one floor below, and he guessed you must like it that way. Which he thought strange. The way you were with others, he hadn’t exactly pegged you for being someone who liked her space. But then again, he’d only known you for thirty minutes.

He had to remind himself of that. 

“Here we are!” Kitty grinned excitedly, stepping to the side to let you open the door yourself. Logan knew what you’d find behind the wood. He’d helped set it up after all. Some twisted guilt forced him into helping. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

You eyed Kitty suspiciously, before twisting the handle on the door, pushing slightly to reveal what she was so excited about. 

If Logan was being honest, your expression was worth all the consuming guilt he’d felt by taking your room. A smile of pure, unadulterated awe wiped all thought from his mind, your eyes were practically glowing.

“You… Kitty, you didn’t need to do this,” You looked back to the giddy girl and pulled her into a tight hug. Everything you remembered was here. Your posters, fairy lights, and every single plant you’d nourished and grown made your room look like a rainforest. The light in the ceiling had been covered by patterns to ensure there was always shadows cast somewhere, whether it be floor, wall, or ceiling. 

“It wasn’t just me! I employed help,” Kitty smiled, taking the liberties she knew she had to sit cross-legged on your bed. “And others offered to help.”

Logan held his breath as he felt your attention shift from Kitty to him, meeting your gaze of sheer wonder. 

“You helped?” you asked, taking your bag from his shoulder, though he was almost too caught up in your gaze to notice.

“Here an’ there…” he muttered, trying to calm himself by leaning against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest, attempting to escape your eyes by looking around your room. 

“Here and there? That’s such a lie! He’d heard about your mutation, the shadow-casting thing was his idea!” Kitty grinned excitedly, and you all but choked on the realisation. He did this for you. He didn’t even know you, and he did this for you. 

“Kitty, that’s en–oof!” Logan barely had time to react before your arms were around his neck, your chin resting on his shoulder. Your scent hit him like a truck, and it was nothing like how he’d imagine it. Not that he had imagined it…

“Thank you,” you whispered earnestly, and any guard he’d put up previously melted away. He didn’t exactly return your embrace, but his hands somehow found your waist as you pulled back, keeping your arms across his shoulders. “Maybe I can forgive you for stealing my old room now. Oh! And my job. And not believing I exist,” your grin held more mischief than he ever thought possible, but now you were back to teasing, he felt his thoughts return. 

“Anythin’ else?” He asked, mirroring your expression.

“Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll think of something,” was it Logan’s sudden and overactive imagination, or did your eyes just flicker to his lips?

Was it the sudden physical contact that made your body hum this way, or was it just the fact that he could bench-press three of you? You didn’t care, and somehow, you didn’t think he did either. 

Until very suddenly and very abruptly, you did care. You stepped out of his hands far too quickly for his liking, your arms falling back by your sides. Though you didn’t look like you regretted anything. 

“I really appreciate this, from both of you. And whoever else helped. This is… well it’s better than what I was imagining,” you gestured to the room around you. It truly was perfect for you. They’d really outdone themselves. He’d really outdone himself. And you couldn’t help the warmth that spread from the centre of your chest to your limbs. You wanted to know more about him. “What’s your mutation, by the way? You never said,” you asked before you could stop yourself, and Logan blinked in surprise.

Holding his fist up, he flexed the tendons holding his claws. He no longer winced when his knuckles split. No longer grimaced as he sliced through his own flesh, though watching your face did cause him to worry just a little. 

You held your silence for a moment, not really knowing what to say. That looked painful as fuck, but you felt that asking might make it worse. “I see…” was all you said, before it hit you. “Wolverine! I get it now. It made sense before but now it actually fits!” You exclaimed, chuckling at his confusion. 

“Whaddya mean it made sense before?” 

“Don’t think too much into it,” you winked again, and Logan swore his heart stopped. 

“Yeah, alright Phantom.” He cocked a brow at the playful narrow of your eyes before you melted into the shadows right in front of him. He’d been made aware of your mutation, having overheard Jean using both you and Kitty as examples of phasing mutants, but to actually see it for himself? He couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed. He glanced around the room, retracting his claws as he looked for where you could have gone. 

“Get it now?”

Logan whipped around to see you standing behind him, arms folded across your chest, a mischievous grin plastered across your features. 

You always felt a sense of freedom when you released yourself into the shadows, like holding yourself in this corporeal state was somewhat of an effort. But letting yourself be free, to move like liquid amongst the darkness, it was like refueling a beaten truck. 

Logan’s lips quirked into a smile as he nodded once. “Got it,” the silence lingered once again, some kind of charge energy crackled in the space between the two of you before he cleared his throat. “Kitty, we should– the fuck?” 

You popped your head to the side, peering around Logan to see the space on your bed Kitty used to be sitting in was now completely empty. “Guess she left,” you shrugged. “Or she never existed.” That earned you a flick to the forehead from Logan, and you laughed, batting away his hand. How long had it been since you’d felt this comfortable with someone this quickly? Either it had been years, or never. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” he smiled, this time completely unrestrained. And fuck was he gorgeous. But you had to remember this was a man you’d just met. 

He had to remember this was a woman he’d just met.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll uh, see you later?” You didn’t mean for your voice to sound so hopeful at the end, but honestly? It was worth seeing him turn back to you with that same smirk you’d seen countless times already.

“Sure.” He said, before closing the door. 

You sat heavily on your bed, your head in your hands. “What the fuck?” 

Little did you know, Logan was having a similar reaction right outside your door, his back against the wood as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “What. The. Fuck?”

Having almost drowned yourself in the shower, using that shampoo you’d missed so dearly on your travels, you’d changed clothes into something a lot more comfortable, a loose pair of sweats and a spaghetti strap tank top, before heading down to Xavier’s office where he’d just spent the last ten minutes explaining his plans to further your mutation. And to be completely honest with yourself, you hadn’t listened to half of it. 

“So, in short, your ability, whilst appearing similar to Kitty’s, is actually entirely different. Where Kitty phases through objects, you become those shadows. Your molecules break down completely, unlike Miss Pryde.” He finished his explanation slowly, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you had no idea what he’d just said. Luckily, when conversing with a telepath, you didn’t have to.

Charles sighed, rubbing his forehead slightly. “You’ve always said you felt a strain on yourself whilst corporeal, yes?” He asked, and you breathed in relief. Finally, a question you could answer.

“Yeah, it’s like I’m holding water with my bare hands. Or something like that,” you nodded, looking at yourself slightly curiously. “So, I’m not like Kitty?” you clarified, looking back up the the professor, who shook his head. 

“I’m afraid not. We were mistaken before, simply assuming you were just another phasing mutant. But Jean ran some tests on your blood, and it was quite remarkable.” You’d almost forgotten the woman was in the room until she cleared her throat, her red hair pulled up in a tight ponytail. 

“I think you describe it perfectly. Your molecules are being held together, more or less, by string, or so to speak. Not real string, but I think you understand.” You nodded. You actually did understand, because that’s how you constantly felt. It was, however, incredibly unnerving. What would happen if that string frayed? Or worse, fucking snapped altogether? Sensing your distress, Charles covered your hand with his own.

“My dear, that’s why we brought you back. We’ve been incredibly lucky so far, and clearly, you have an innate ability to control the string. It’s led us to believe that your abilities don’t stop at shadow walking.” He looked at you with understanding as you took this all in. He’d mentioned to you previously that he thinks you could do more. 

“Shadow manipulation, right?” You asked though the question was rhetorical. You knew that’s where they were going with this. Charles glanced at Jean who nodded in confirmation. 

“Essentially, yes. We think you could pull shadows from an already existing cast and wield them to your heart’s content. In… theory.” She hesitated, and you blew out a breath.

“But in practice?”

“In practice… honestly we don’t know. It will be a learning curve for all of us, to be blunt.” You nodded a little numbly. You’d only just returned and already you were being bombarded with hard truths. 

Once again sensing your distress, Charles cleared his throat. “Well, I think we should continue this discussion tomorrow. You’ve had a long day and perhaps right now isn’t the best time to be entertaining new ideas.” He threw another look to Jean and she nodded again, standing from her seat.

You couldn’t agree more. This was a lot to take in. Especially since you’d become so comfortable with your mutation, believing that you were just another phaser like Kitty. But now, you were something else completely, something unknown. Even to yourself. It… scared you. And you didn’t scare easily. Worry? Sure. Impending sense of dread? Absolutely. Fear? Never.

“Right. Thanks, Professor. I’ll uh, see you tomorrow then.” You dipped your head goodbye, before leaving his office and closing the door behind you. Tea. You needed tea. Fuck you needed something stronger than tea, but since this was a goddamn school, alcohol was strictly prohibited. 

Fuck’s sake. 

Dragging a hand down the side of your face, you absently made your way to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. Muscle memory guided you to the drinks cupboard, moving aside the jar of decaff coffee to reveal your personal stash of teabags. Whilst primarily you were a coffee drinker, when it was this late in the evening, you tended to steer clear of the caffeine. You weren’t the best at sleeping to begin with, let alone when your mind and body were buzzing. 

You didn’t turn when you heard footsteps behind you, and the scrape of one of the chairs against the wooden floor, too focussed on rifling through the cupboard adjacent to the drinks one for our favourite mug. A gift from Kitty, she’d had custom-made for the print on the side to say ‘Phasers Forever!’. It made you a little sad to think about now. But, thankfully you found it, nestled right at the back next to the mug you’d gifted her. Also custom-made, but this just had the image of two hands with their little fingers linked. You’d made sure the gloves matched the ones you both wore in your suits. 

Dropping the teabag into the mug, you instantly savoured the scented steam as you poured the hot water, even the aroma calming your slightly frayed nerves. Wow, that meeting had seriously rattled you. Looping the string and tag over the lip of the mug, you turned back to the room, only to almost drop your freshly made drink in surprise.

Logan. Hair slightly damp, in a white v-neck tank, sat at the far end of the table, leaning back in the chair with a bottle of what you could have sworn was larger in his bear paw of a hand. That same fucking smirk pulled at his lips. 

“Phantom.” He raised his bottle in greeting. You wished you could match his energy, but honestly, you were drained from the day and the meeting. But you tried nonetheless.

“Wolvie.” You smiled back, though you could feel it didn’t reach your eyes. And clearly, he noticed too, expression shifting from self-assured confidence to slight concern.

“You alright?” Logan had only known you for less than a day, and he already knew he really didn’t like seeing you despondent. 

“Yeah, fine.” It almost pained him physically seeing your eyes remain dull with your liar’s smile. That was something else he realised in that split second. 

He really didn’t like you lying to him.

“Uh huh?” Fuck, he definitely knew you were hiding everything. How the fuck could he possibly tell that? He didn’t even know you! You sighed heavily, hoping it would help your next half-truth.

“I’m just tired. Long day, lots of emotions. Are you hungry? I’m starved and was gonna make pasta if you wanted some,” You tried your best to steer the conversation away from how you were feeling. Once again it wasn’t exactly a lie. You were starving, having not eaten since this morning, and it was now ten in the evening. 

Logan knew you turned away quickly so you didn’t have to see his suspicion. If you weren’t ready to talk about whatever was bothering you, he knew he shouldn’t push. But, to his surprise, he found himself wanting to know. He wanted to know what was up, and maybe, just maybe, he could make you feel better. It seemed doubtful, but it was worth a shot. “How was your meeting with Charles?”

Your shoulders tensed, spine straightening. Gotcha.

“Yeah, fine. Just easing me back into life here basically. Nothing earthshattering.” Now that was a flat out lie, and once again you refused to turn around as you brought the kettle over to the tap, filling it to the max line before placing it back on the stand and flicking the switch. You found it easier to lie when you were busy doing something else and making pasta seemed perfect. Crouching to one of the lower cupboards, you pulled out the pack of wholewheat, refusing to eat any of the sugary white bullshit. Unfortunately, the one downside of busying yourself so remarkably well was that you weren’t always paying attention to what was going on around you.

For example, Logan walking up behind you to take the packet from your hand and place it on the counter. You turned, realising he’d given you minimal space to move. He was so close you could smell the gel he used in the shower. Woodsy and smoky, like a forest cabin. He smelt fucking great, but to be honest, you were too busy trying to avoid eye contact to care.

“S’that why you look like your pet just died?” You knew he was trying to be teasing, trying to lighten the mood, trying to create a comfortable environment for you to open up in, but you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. With a deep breath, you stepped to the side and out of his reach, opening the fridge to look for something to make a nice creamy sauce with.

“Look, Logan. I appreciate it, and what you’re trying to do, but at the same time, I don’t know you. And you don’t know me. So, and I mean this with the utmost respect, fucking drop it. I’m tired and I have genuinely had a long day, what more do you want me to say?”

Logan blinked. And blinked again for good measure. He wasn’t expecting you to be so sharp. He didn’t know why he wasn’t expecting it, but you really took him by surprise. That seemed to be all you were doing since the moment he met you. Though this one stung a little more than he cared to admit. “That might’ve been the nicest fuck off I’ve ever heard. But it was still a fuck off.” He shrugged. He knew deep down you were right. You didn’t know each other, and maybe was was expecting a little too much from a three-hour friendship. If he could even call it that. 

“I didn’t mean–” You turned back from the fridge just in time to watch his disappearing form leave through the door, hearing his footsteps recede back up the stairs. You cursed inwardly, hating yourself for how you handled the situation. Though, looking at the pasta on the counter, you had an idea as to how to fix some of this. 

It had been roughly half an hour since he’d left you in the kitchen, recognising you needed space, and in all honesty? Retreating to lick his own wounds. He didn’t know why he wanted you to open up so badly. It wasn’t like he had a long-lasting friendship with you. He met you today, for fuck’s sake. Only hours ago. Shit, this morning he still didn’t think you existed! Logan groaned at the memory of you shutting him down, wishing he’d handled the situation differently, and stopped prodding when he knew he should have. Fuck!

He’d just managed to resolve to come and talk to you, before there was a thump at his bedroom door, followed by another. That wasn’t any kind of fist knocking… 

With deliberate caution, Logan stood from his bed, shining claws sliding through his knuckles as he approached the door, only for his nerves to be calmed when a familiar scent wafted through the cracks in the door. He didn’t dare get his hopes up until he turned the handle, pulling the door open to reveal you, stood before him, two steaming plates of pasta held impressively in one hand, and two bottles of larger in the other, your foot raised to kick the door a third time. 

“Before you slam the door, I brought peace pesto pasta, homemade so you know it’s good.” You were honestly surprised he opened the door, though you eyed his claws cautiously. Who did he think it was?

Logan noticed your line of sight, retracting his claws to cross his arms, a brow raised. “Peace pesto pasta?”

You nodded. “Homemade, don’t forget.” Logan smiled slightly at the hope in your eyes. “And also beer so you physically can’t turn me down.” You raised the two bottles in your hand, and he sighed as if you were a nuisance. Unfortunately for him, that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“Homemade peace pesto, beer, and…?” 

You stuck your tongue in your cheek. “An apology.” You reluctantly admitted, looking anywhere but his face. “Can I come in or are you gonna stare at me all evening? These aren’t the most balanced plates, been a while since I was a waitress so…” you mumbled in explanation, earning yourself a quizzical look.

“You were a waitress?”

“Yes and it was a long time ago but we can talk all about it if I can set these down somewhere they won’t fall on your feet,” you said hurriedly, borderline pleading with your eyes for him to let you in. It wasn’t as if he was about to say no, there was just something comical about the way you were managing to hold everything in your hands. 

With a click of his tongue, he gestured for you to enter with his head, closing the door behind you as you set one of the plates down on the window seat, rubbing the red skin of your arm where the hot plate had ever so slightly burned you. He instantly felt bad, crossing the room with the intention to take your arm to look at it before you stuck it into the shadow on the wall, removing it again to reveal your skin pristine again.

“It wasn’t that bad, just uncomfortable,” you shrugged, handing a plate and bottle to him. Logan shook his head at what he’d just seen, giving you a look of ‘fair enough’ before taking the plate and beer gratefully. How long had it been since someone cooked for him? Though you’d done it as a peace offering, it still warmed his heart slightly. That and the fact it smelt fucking divine. 

“I’m sorry…” you started, mindlessly poking your pasta around your plate with your fork after making yourself comfortable on his window seat. He guessed it used to be your window seat, but it still made him happy how comfortable you looked. “The Professor told me something in the meeting and… rattled me, that’s all,” you shrugged, popping a few pieces of green pasta into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. 

Logan decided to wait for you to continue, cracking open the bottle top of his beer with his teeth. Raising a brow as you looked over at him in slightly disturbed awe. 

“How did you not just break your jaw?” you asked, flabbergasted at his seemingly endless pool of abilities. 

“Not much can break it, considering my skeleton’s adamantium.” Logan was starting to like when you gaped at him in shock, admiring the way you jaw went completely slack, eyes wide. 

“Wait, how don't you– ohhhhh…” It had taken you a while to notice just how much the bed dipped when he sat down. No wonder he was so ripped, he had to be that strong in order to fucking walk around. “Any other secrets you're hiding?” You asked, before instantly regretting the question when his eyes met yours.

“You wanna talk about keeping secrets now?” He asked curtly.

“Walked into that one…”

“Yeah, you kinda did.” 

You sighed, fiddling with the bottle cap of your beer. Not to remove it, just to feel the sensation of the almost serrated edges helped to ground yourself. 

“You know about my mutation, the whole shadow-walking thing?” You asked, to which Logan responded with a nod, finally taking a bite of the pasta you’d made. Your heart swelled with pride as he paused, looking from the food to you with an impressed smile. “So, turns out, it’s nothing like Kitty’s. It’s not phasing like we originally thought, but something totally different.” You started to explain to an intensely listening Logan. “Kitty phases through things. I actually become the shadows I enter. Like, it’s not still my body but just in the shadow, my molecules break down to literally be the shadow,” you could tell he was trying to understand, his head tilting slightly to the side in a way you genuinely found cute. “It’s like, I’m holding water in my bare hands,” you started to demonstrate, placing your plate and bottle down beside you to cup your hands in front of you. “And this, this is my body. My corporeal body. But, when I dive into shadows, that body breaks down,” your cupped hands splayed apart, fingers spread to simulate a liquid splash. Logan nodded thoughtfully through mouthfuls of pasta. “How Jean explained it was that my molecules are held together with some kind of thread, and I control that thread, but it’s a constant strain… Like, I can feel my body being held together. And it just… I don’t know. It scared me I guess.”

The room fell into silence as you finished your explanation, Logan setting his somehow clean plate to the side, leaning his elbows against his spread knees, beer bottle clasped in both hands. “I uh, don’t really understand what’s scary bubs, sounds like this is an opportunity to develop it, right?” he asked, eyes searching your face for any sign you were reassured.

You sighed, the back of your head softly hitting the wall behind you. “Well apparently we’ve been lucky so far, and my control over this string or thread or whatever the fuck is stronger than they thought but… I don’t know, I guess what first went through my mind was what would happen if the thread snapped. Would I just stop being able to shadow walk or–”

“Would you stop altogether, and be able to do nothing but shadow walk,” Logan finished, realisation dawning on his gruff features. You nodded slightly, not wanting to speak anything into existence. 

“Exactly.” You whispered, staring into your borderline untouched pasta. You honestly didn’t know what to do, and you didn’t know what could be done. Surely, at this point, it was just a matter of time, right? The thought hit you like a lightning bolt. If it was just a matter of time, you just burdened this poor man, who you’d only met hours ago, with the knowledge that, eventually, you were likely just simply dissolve into nothing, cursed to live forever in the shadows of others. “Anyway, yeah, that’s why I had a face like, how did you put it? Like my pet just died,” You did your best to imitate his voice, hoping to shit it would lighten the mood of the room, but it only earned you a look of sympathy.

Fucking sympathy. You hated sympathy.

You’d come in here in the hopes to make things right with him and apologise for how you were earlier, but the one thing you really didn’t want, and never fucking wanted, was sympathy. You sighed heavily, preparing yourself for whatever ‘I’m so sorry this is happening speech’ he was clearly getting ready to spill. 

But for the umpteenth time in the short while you’d known him, Logan surprised you. Taking your bottle of beer from your side, he cracked the lid off with his teeth, the same as before, before handing it back to you. You, as stunned as you were, managed to take it from his hand, the soft skin of your fingertips brushing the backs of his own. You smiled in resignation, raising your bottle in some tragic excuse of a toast. ‘To the inevitable’ you wanted to say, but you physically bit your tongue before taking a long sip of the slightly bitter liquid.

“It won’t come to that,” you’d forgotten, in the period of silence, that you were waiting for him to say something. You tilted your head in confusion, and it honestly took all of Logan’s willpower not to launch into you and wrap you up in his arms. He really needed to pull himself together. “Look, I was pretty fuckin’ helpless when I came here. And I know you remember the state Marie was in. Neither of us thought we were worth savin’, but look at us now,” in complete honesty, Logan still didn’t think he was worth saving, but that was neither here nor there. “He’ll help ya. You’ll get this under control. And it ain’t all bad. He already said you had more control than he thought,” You could feel his eyes search your face as you closed yours. Maybe he was right. Charles had said you had more control over these strings than he thought. 

Logan was right. That was a good thing.

“Well, we’ll see tomorrow. That’s when we really start everything. We have another meeting before we’re straight into training, seeing if we can really develop this mutation before I cease to exist. No pressure right?” You half-joked, your lips quirking up into what you hoped was a smile. Or, at least, a lopsided one. 

Fuck he wanted to kiss you. Kiss you. When the hell was the last time he’d felt like this toward anyone? He hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone in goddamn years, and here you were, a woman he didn’t even believe existed a few hours ago, waltzing into his life and making him feel things like wanting to fucking kiss you. 

“I uh… ya know I wanted to apologise too.”

Well, that caught you off guard. “Wh– wait what? Why? What for?” you couldn’t help firing off questions at speeds you didn’t know you were capable of, utter bafflement contorting your features. 

“You were right. I don’t know you. And you don’t know me.” Logan watched as your face transformed from confusion, to hurt, to acceptance. 

“Yeah…. I did say that didn’t I? I–”

“But,” he interrupted, stopping you mid-sentence. “That doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know ya…” Logan almost laughed aloud at how your eyes went comically wide. Did you know how cute you were? When you weren’t telling him to fuck off, that is.

“I– Uh, okay, sure… what d’ya wanna know?” you asked, hoping to fuck you didn’t sound ridiculous. If you didn’t, Logan didn’t seem to mind or care. 

“You can start of by tellin’ me how or where you learned to cook so well,” you scoffed loudly, rolling you eyes. “Nah I’m serious kid, that was fuckin’ great,” Logan leaned against the headboard, an arm positioned behind his head as you too made yourself comfortable again on the window seat, resting your elbow on your raised knee.

“Kid? Do you know how old I am?” you asked, smirking slightly. Though you were a little embarrassed, there was no way you’d show it. Kid? Did he seriously think you were that young? 

“Do you know how old I am?” he retorted, that same self-assured glint dancing in his eye. You peered at him in scrutiny, emphasising how hard you were looking at him by squinting intensely.

“I’d put you at around like, early thirties? Maybe mid? Am I hot or cold?” you asked, kinda hoping he was in the same sort of age bracket as you were. Not for any specific reason of course… just for… science.

Yeah. For science.

Though your heart deflated slightly at his bark of a laugh. “Not quite. Try mid to late hundred and thirties. Give or take a few years.” Once again you gaped at him, mouth wide open, jaw completely slack. He could get used to that sight. Dangerously used to it. “Take a picture bubs, it’ll last longer.”

“B-but… how–? Y–? Hundred and– what the fuck?” You couldn’t get over it. Though your mind was still reeling, you managed to recover quickly. “Why you don’t look a day over ninety. You’re in good shape for a fossil, though I was wondering why I was getting a lot of calls from museums recently… probably looking for their exhibit back,” you smirked wildly whilst Logan just stared at you, trying his fucking damnest not to let his disobedient lips quirk anywhere other than down. 

“Ya done?”

“I’ll probably think of some more. But, in all seriousness, how?” You asked, and Logan couldn’t detect anything other than genuine curiosity.

“Regenerative. I heal real quick, but that also keeps my body in good condition. Dunno exactly how old I am, but it’s around hundred and thirty,” he shrugged, and you whistled lowly. “So?” he prompted, and you looked up.

“So what?”

“How’dya make the pasta?” 

You snorted in amusement, before launching into an explanation about your brother and how he always had an interest in cooking and had taught you to cook simple things, like how to make a béchamel sauce, or how to make pesto from scratch. And if you weren’t so caught up in your storytelling, you would have noticed Logan drinking in every damn word like he was parched for conversation. Listening to you talk, the cadence of your voice, the way you pronounce every letter and the way you occasionally drop a letter, it was hypnotic. You didn’t have an abundance of energy, and whether that was simply because you were exhausted after the day you’d had, or if that was just who you were, he didn’t know. But honestly? He didn’t really care. 

As long as you kept talking, that was all that mattered. If he could take your mind off tomorrow, or your situation by letting you ramble about the smallest of things, he would. And he would pretend the whole time like he was doing this for you. And not because, at the end of everything, he liked listening to you. 

“Anyway, that’s how you tell the difference between a Thoroughbred and a Quarter Horse. And I will not make that mistake again.” You’d somehow weaved from topic to topic, the conversation ebbing and flowing for hours, you both taking turns in sharing random stories from your pasts, little anecdotes that gave context to who you both were as people now. And it was only thanks to the brief silence and the conveniently timed chime of the clock did you realise how late it was. Or rather, how early.

It was one in the fucking morning. How the hell did that happen? Your eyes slid back to Logan, who at some point had made himself comfortable on the opposite side of the window seat, and you watched as he had the same realisation. Holy shit.

“I should probably–”

“Look, you should–”

You both started to speak at the same time, before pausing to let the other talk first. It was gross and awkward and cringey but, for the life of you, you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

You stood, gathering your long abandoned, though now empty plate, and crossed the room to grab his from the bedside table. You heard Logan sigh heavily behind you in what you assumed was exhaustion. You couldn’t blame the man. You’d been talking for hours. 

Logan followed you to the door, holding it open for you as you stepped out into the hallway. You placed the crockery onto the floor, freeing your hands to wrap your arms around his neck in a similar embrace to the one before. Only this time, you felt his strong arms return your hug, wrapping you up tightly against his chest.

“Thank you. For letting me talk for hours. You don’t need to pretend you enjoyed it, by the way. But thank you all the same.” You stepped back, and Logan leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah well, you brought peace pesto and beer. How could I say no?” He quipped, and you chuckled lightly. He wasn’t about to admit he enjoyed your company far more than he should have done, and he sure as shit wasn’t about to admit he wasn’t pretending to like it. His eyes softened at your laugh in a way he’d stopped them from doing all evening. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You peered up at him, a knowing spark dancing in your iris. You noticed. Of course, you’d noticed. That was almost exactly what you’d said to him earlier. The same hopeful lilt and all. 

“Sure.” Was all you said in return, before picking up the empty plates and bottles off the floor, and turning away to head back down the hallway. You refused to look back, worried that if you did, you’d run straight back to his room and never fucking leave.

But if you had. If you had just turned to look over your shoulder, you would have seen him leaning against the doorway still, eyes following you down the stairs, and lingering still, long after you’d disappeared.

Yeah… he was definitely in trouble.

[reminiscingtonight]

Smooth Operator

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

[WOSO Masterlist]

Aitana’s smirking at you when you drop into the seat in front of her. You’re instantly dropping your face into your hands, wishing the ground would just come swallow you up. 

“What the hell was that?” Keira chuckles, giving you a gentle nudge. 

“What the hell was what?” you huff, shoving Keira back. 

“Nice shoes? Really?” Aitana tags on, joining in on the teasing. 

“I panicked, okay?!” you groan. 

Having joined the team in the last trade window, your best friend thought it would be a great idea to go explore nearby cafes in an effort to immerse you into the Barcelona culture a bit. Aitana tagged along just for funsies, but it was a clear coincidence that the three of you ran into Alexia. The Barcelona captain looked deep in conversation with her sister when the three of you walked into the shop, not even noticing you guys until Alba looked up and waved.

You’ve been enamored with Alexia long before you even joined the team. You’ve only ever had the chance to admire from afar, but it wasn’t until you actually saw her in action that your admiration turned into a feet stumbling, constant stuttering, blushing hot mess. 

You like to take pride in your smoothness, the way you can charm almost any person that crosses your path. Just in the latest national team camp you were voted most likely to talk their way out of a ticket. 

“A couple fluttered eyelashes and a well-placed laugh, who wouldn’t fall for her?”

If only your teammates could see you now. 

Every time you cross paths with the Spanish midfielder you’re grasping at the straws just to string along a coherent sentence. 

Alexia asks if you know the time? You blurt out that your phone is dead before diving behind Keira, ignoring the timepiece sitting upon your wrist. 

Alexia jokes that the Spanish sun is zapping away all of her energy? You trip seconds later, spilling your water all over her.

Alexia defends you in a drill? You stumble over the ball, missing it completely before taking Alexia straight to the ground.

No matter what you try to do, you always end up embarrassing yourself. 

Case in point just a few seconds ago. 

Being the pieces of shit they are, Aitana and Keira send you to order your drinks. Coincidentally Alexia’s back in line herself, ready to get another thing for her sister. 

You’re mentally rehearsing your orders when a gentle hand on your back grabs your attention. Alexia gives you a soft smile when you turn to face her. 

“How are you today?” 

Her english is heavily accented, but it’s nice how she tries to keep you engaged, knowing you’re still struggling through your catalan and spanish lessons.

Or it would be cute if you actually heard any of it, because the truth is anything she says after she flashes a smile your way goes right over your head. Your heart turns to goo, hands getting sweaty, throat going dry.

“You’re so pretty.” 

It’s a whispered comment meant only for your ears. But the second you realize you said it out loud rather than in your head like you intended, your face burns in embarrassment.

Thankfully, Alexia’s eyebrows furrow together, your quiet words difficult for her to decipher. 

“Què? I am sorry, I did not catch that.”

“I just-- I meant--” you fumble, desperately trying to find an excuse. “Your… shoes! Your shoes are very pretty! Very nice too!”

Your voice carries, definitely not meaning to be as loud as it comes out. It’s hard to miss the way Alba tilts her head curiously at the two of you and the way Keira and Aitana start giggling near the back of the shop.

Your face feels even hotter as you will for the line to go faster. The sooner you get out of here, the sooner you can stop embarrassing yourself. And the sooner you can strangle the two bozos masquerading as your friends. 

Alexia still looks confused but she nods. “I… uh, thank you? I think it’s a Nike one. Running shoes.”

Not trusting your mouth to say anything else, you slam it shut. You must look like a madwoman as you nod vigorously. 

You don’t miss the way Alexia gives you a concerned look, but then the barista is calling your name, saving you any more small talk.

A mumbled goodbye and you’re booking it back to your table as fast as you can without spilling any of your drinks.

---

You wish you could say things get better in the following days.

But you’d be a liar if you said that.

So far you’ve complimented Alexia’s club issued shorts, awed over her bare, unpainted nails, have even miraculously asked if she got a haircut (spoiler she did not). Every time you receive a confused look and a tentative thank you, two acts that make the urge to transfer clubs and never show your face again more and more tempting.

None of it amounts to anything until a few days later. 

You’re out getting drinks with the rest of your team after a successful game. You yourself had scored two goals, and Keira, ever the best friend she is, wanted to celebrate your first brace with Barca in style.

The first drink didn’t even last a whole minute. Keira had no choice but to watch you inhale your cocktail, somehow only managing to choke once. She’s lost for words when you also down the shot Mapi slides your way. Reaching across the table, you pick up Keira’s shot as well, tipping back your head before slamming the cup onto the table. 

It isn’t until you’re reaching for your fourth glass that Keira says something, hand quick to cover the drink before you can lift it. 

“Woah there, drink a little faster why don’t ya?” she teases, a silent question of concern underlying her words.

Shrugging her off, you’re quick to down your third shot. “I need a little bit of liquid courage,” you huff, fighting back a wince at the burn.

“Liquid courage for what?” 

Keira’s question is quick to be answered when a shadow falls over the two of you. Keira’s hand is quickly replaced with those of your captain, Alexia not looking too amused to see you drinking so much alcohol during the season. 

“Everything okay over here, chicas?”

She raises an eyebrow, almost daring you to give her a reason to snatch away the only thing keeping you sane at the moment.

Alexia’s obviously expecting a somewhat coherent explanation from you. Or even a half-assed stringed-along excuse. What she gets instead is--

“Will you go out with me?” you blurt out, instantly slapping your hands across your mouth the second the words come out.

Alexia pauses, looking at you with wide eyes. From all around, your teammates are choking on their drinks, clearly not expecting you to just blurt it out like that. 

Unlike their captain, everyone else on the team has been well aware of the affection you’ve been holding for the Catalonian. Ingrid has to elbow Mapi in the side to stop her from cackling, Pina in the same boat with Patri, the older woman nearly falling off her chair in laughter. Meanwhile, Alexia’s mouth opens and closes a couple times as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing. 

“You want to… go out with me?” She sounds confused, as if she can’t comprehend the thought of you being romantically interested in her. 

You’re half mortified, half exasperated that you said it the way you did, but you’ve shown your cards at this point so you might as well just roll with it. 

“This is embarrassing,” you mutter, eyes nervously darting around the room. “I’ve been trying to ask you out since like… day three of joining Barca.”

An unhelpful snort escapes Keira and she wither as you direct your glare towards her. 

But the anger is short lived as a soft finger curling under your chin has you raising your eyes back up to Alexia. Your captain looks amused, a small smile starting to settle on her face. “So you asking about my shoes a couple days ago was you trying to flirt with me?” 

The tease causes your face to flush even more red as you wince. “Yeah, that didn’t really come out the way I intended.”

The quiet laugh Alexia lets out should make you feel even more mortified, but you’re past the point of caring anymore. Now if only Alexia would grant you the mercy of a quick rejection you could finally let go and squash this giant hopeless crush of yours. 

“I’d love to go on a date with you,” Alexia chuckles, giving your cheek a fond pat. It’s done mockingly, really, but you can’t help but be endeared by the action. 

“Really?” You’d be embarrassed by how quick you light up but that would be the least embarrassing thing you’ve done all month so really you could care less.

“Really.”

And sure, you definitely see the way Keira halfheartedly slides a euro over to a gleeful Aitana, and yeah, Mapi’s definitely poking fun about how stupidly unsmooth you are but for tonight you’re the luckiest girl in Barcelona. 

Because you have a date with the Alexia Putellas. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[verdantlights]

Round 7 Final thoughts/Analysis

First of all, Blink Gone is a banger but we knew that already.

Second,

Till is and also is not dead. Till was used as a pawn for the segyein for entertainment. Keep in mind this is Season 50. 50 seasons of Alien Stage, and you think they wouldn't go off without a hitch? Till was used to lure Hyuna and Mizi back. Hyuna is worth a lot and Mizi escaped live on stage. Think of the Quarter Quells in The Hunger Games. Do you really think... they wouldn't make Season 50 special? Especially since Luka won S49. It was always rigged in Luka's favor. Or is it? (hey, vsauce here-)

Now. Till was EXTREMELY drugged up. He may have had his fighting spirit back, but he was definitely 'roided up by the aliens for the plan. The Finals were rigged in Luka's favor, it was all rigged in Luka's favor. Those drugs in Tills system, for all we know, can be keeping him alive. There is a good chance they don't want Till dead and that they're only faking his death for the sake of the... "special guests."

It might have been rigged in Luka's favor, but there's a good chance he might not be getting out of this safe, sane, or even alive. He may have captured the hearts of the segyein in Season 49, but he is still a human pet. He is still expendable for the sake of entertainment. None of us character stans, Luka stans, are off the hook. ALNST is not over.

EDIT: I would also like to point out that Luka was probably also on drugs. He was in hysterics pretty much the whole time. Luka is trapped in this cycle and is a pet, just like Till.

As for those "special guests," Mizi and Hyuna: there can be multiple ways this plays out, either Mizi goes against Hyuna, or Hyuna goes against Luka. We already had Mizi v Luka, so they wouldn't do that again.

As for the song itself, I picked up a few lyrics:

Luka: "Before this piercing, radiant moment fades away"

"Piercing, radiant moment" referring to Till and/or Hyuna being injured.

Luka: "Neither today nor tomorrow, exist for me"

"Exist for me" is a reference to Ivan's thought process in why he chose to die in round 6

Till (i think): "Blink and gone, relish the present"

"Relish the present" as in Till needs to live in the moment to survive, rather than to win. He is on adrenaline, drugs, and survival instinct.

Till: "Clear your mind, leave the burdens behind"

A reference to himself that he... basically needs to lock in.

Luka: "The dark crimson air embraces us, lifting our spirits"

Ivan reference, specifically Luka imitating Ivan

Till: "And the fiery thrill blazes out to the sky"

Ivantill meteor shower reference

Now as for the meaning of the song itself, that could be multiple things:

Till realizing too late about Ivan's feelings and that he was wrong about his image of Ivan, "And in a blink, gone."

Till's life, "And in a blink, gone." (which is why i say he's dead and also not dead. He very well could be dead and just be brought back to life like the Sualive and Alivan theories)

Luka's ability to mimic others

Hyunamizi also realizing too late that they might have been set up

I think the flashbacks to round 6 are pretty obvious in what they mean and what was intended for it to mean/symbolize, so I'll spare it.

OH YEAH and speaking of the alivan and sualive theories, those are a LOT MORE LIKELY after this. Because what was the point of Till's death... after round 6? Would they (Vivinos, not the aliens) kill Till off after what happened in round 6? Death is too easy. Death is mercy. Yes I wish mercy upon Till, but there are better ways to show him mercy with what we have without him dying. That being said, if he is actually dead. Like dead, dead, (i will kms) then at least he died where Mizi was the last thing he saw.

Mizi was the last thing he saw.

We might have been wrong about Till only loving the "image" of Mizi, but then again, maybe not. Again, Till immediately lit up at the sight of Mizi, recognizing her instantly. It gave him the motivation to continue, he didn't notice of care how different, traumatized, and worn down she looked. He only saw her. Maybe it wasn't her image he was fond of. Maybe he really did love her. But maybe he was also grasping at straws to survive and continue on. Maybe he thought he had a chance. Cause Mizi was also grasping at straws. As we saw in the flashback with Mizitill, they were definitely friends. Mizi might only see Till as a friend, but now both would only have each other left, plus Hyuna and the resistance. Mizi might not give Till a romantic chance, but they can be there for each other because they both understand what the other went through.

Also Issac and Dewey better pull through I swear to fucking god. WHY WERE THEY NOT THERE. If you saw my bingo card, I marked off Dewssac appearance, I thought I saw them, but I was seeing shit so ignore that.

Personal note: I was really. REALLY overwhelmed leading up to this. I lost a lot of sleep over the past 48 hours due to anxiety over this and I'm glad that it finally happened. I'm a lot better now that my anxiety and nausea is gone and even if I'm extremely... scared... for Till... I'm still hopeful that he's alive, and that sualive and alivan are real. Maybe I am delusional, but I mean, I enjoy the Actor AU a bit too much... so...

That's all, I think. I might have more later after I stew on this a bit more.

@pwippy @starry-skiez @bluemoonscape @ivanttakethis @tsukacchako @shakingparadigm @rosedeleca @crustyfloor @k9punkout @junebluues god i cant think straight im sorry if youre not tagged and wanted to be im like gen tweaking tbh

[lnfours]

focal point ☆ chapter 1 | l.n

summary: being an art student is all fun and games until you need someone to be a model for your final project, which just so happens to be a portrait painting. especially when the only person who’s available is your best friend’s obnoxious roommate.

warnings: art student!reader, best friend/college student!oscar, college student!lando, slight enemies to lovers!au, slight grumpy x sunshine, lando is the definition of cocky, reader and lando bicker like an old married couple and oscar is so sick of their shit.

jordans notes: hello everyone, and welcome to chapter 1 of ‘focal point’! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it! as always, sending you all my love xx

series masterlist | listen to the playlist

“oscar, please,”

it was tuesday, the crisp fall air making you regret throwing on the thin sweater you had picked out this morning before your first lecture. wishing you had chosen the thicker one you had debated on throwing on beforehand. but it didn’t look as good with the pair of jeans you had picked out, and well, priorities.

oscar sighed, pressing the fob against the reader on the front door of his building. the same one you followed him to every tuesday and thursday afternoon after your shared class, a ritual that took place your second year. later on, you’d both hit the cafe on campus to study and do homework together, a nice little routine. the only routine that you really had in your otherwise chaotic, on campus life.

“i really wish i could, but i seriously can’t,” he said, holding the door open for you before you practically ran inside for warmth. winter was slowly approaching, and the cold settling in the air was its first sign of dominance.

“i’ll literally pay you.” you said, pressing the button for the third floor. the doors closed as oscar shook his head.

“i don’t want your money,” he let out a soft chuckle before the doors opened up to his floor, “like i said earlier, professor johnson is giving us projects and tests damn near every week. my econ professor just assigned us a group project that i have to get done in two weeks, on top of all of that, i have so much other work for my classes. i just seriously don’t have the time.”

the keys jingled into the lock to his on campus apartment, the door pushing open. you stepped inside the apartment that hadn’t changed much over the last 3 years you’ve known him. a very simple, boyish decor that was somehow still kept clean. you couldn’t recall a time where the apartment looked like it actually belonged to two college boys.

“but everyone else has said no already. you were my last hope,” you sighed, putting your bag down before flopping onto the couch.

“last hope for what? getting a guy to take you out? if so, that’s really, really sad.”

the british voice echoed through the room and instantly made you roll your eyes. lando norris, oscar’s incredibly obnoxious roommate. you had questioned oscar often on why he was friends with someone as annoying and so full of himself as lando, but whenever he was asked, oscar would simply just say ‘he’s not that bad’ and leave it at that.

however, you liked to disagree.

“what’re you doing here?”

“i live here,” he replied back, “shouldn’t i be asking you that question?”

“it’s tuesday,” you replied, and it looks could kill, he’d be dead in the kitchen instead of making whatever concoction you’re sure he’d try to convince you was good if you asked what it was.

“oh yeah, your little play date,” he said, mixing around the mystery contents in the bowl in his hand, “whatever it is, glad i’m out of it.”

“no one asked you to join us anyway.”

“it hasn’t even been five minutes,” oscar sighed, “both of you, just shut up.”

lando smirked at the expression on your face. one of complete dislike and pure hatred. you eyed him as he ate the granola and… is that an egg?

“i’m going to my room, you kids have fun with your... whatever it is you two do.”

you groaned once the brit was out of the room, “how do you live with him? genuinely asking.”

oscar shook his head, “maybe if you two tried to get along, you would see that he really isn’t that bad.”

“i think pigs would start flying if we ever got along.”

“a man can dream,” he sighed, “you ready? i’m in desperate need of caffeine, and maybe a cheese danish.”

“but i’m so comfortable right now,”

“i’ll buy your coffee if you get up.”

you grabbed your bag off the floor, springing up from the couch before making your way towards the front door, “okay, let’s go,”

“yeah, that’s what i thought.”

the sun had set by the time you made your way back to your own apartment. the warm shower you had took put your body at ease, relaxing your muscles after the long day that you had. you threw your towel into the laundry basket in the corner of the room as your phone lit up with a text message.

8889991034 heard you need help with a final project, and lucky for you, i have some free time on my hands 😌

you furrowed your eyebrows reading the text, typing back a response.

sorry, do i know you?

you don't have my number saved? honestly, not surprised, but damn.. i think we've hit a new low it's lando

yeah, absolutely NOT do me a favor, kiss my ass and lose my number 🙂

fine, i won’t help you then 🤷🏻‍♂️

first of all, jokes on you, i don't need your help. i've found someone else. second of all, don't act like you're trying to do me a solid. clearly there's something in it for you

you were lying. you hadn't found someone else, but the idea of having to spend time with lando was uninteresting in the slightest. you were almost positive that eating glass was more tempting then spending even just a minute with him.

i mean, yeah, the whole 'you scratch my back, i scratch yours' kinda thing look, i didn't want to go to oscar since he has enough on his plate, but i'm failing econ. i was hoping, since you're like a bookworm or whatever, you'd help tutor me if i helped you with your final project i mean, plus, who wouldn't want to paint this gorgeous face? 😏

you rolled your eyes, swiping from the text messages with lando before clicking on oscar's name on your screen. your fingers were moving a mile a minute, shaking your head as you pressed send.

sleep with one eye open, piastri.

your best friend was quick to read the message, sending back a reply that made you groan.

okay, but do you mind telling me what i did?

YOU GAVE LANDO MY NUMBER?!

uhm... 😅 coffee on me thursday?

i hate you.

[lemoncrushh]

The One Where Harry Tries to Win You Back

Summary: When Harry cancels your date again, you decide to go out alone.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2222

A/N: An angsty one shot from 2016.

You dropped the phone on the bed before you plopped down angrily beside it. With a huff, you crossed your arms, determined not to let the tears come that burned behind your eyes. Harry had canceled your date...again.

This was the third time in less than two weeks. Each time he had a valid excuse, but you couldn't help but feel like you were less of a priority and more of an "I'll see you when I can" kind of a person. You'd always put him first, rearranging your schedule to fit his, but you didn't think he did the same. And frankly, you were getting sick of it.

You loved being with him, in fact you thought things were getting serious for a while. But now you weren't so sure. You knew he was busy, that was a given. But having to sit home with the television and a pint of ice cream each time he called to say he was sorry, he had to cancel, was starting to wear on your nerves, not to mention your self-esteem.

Each time he'd apologized, and each time you'd told him it was okay, you understood. Now as you sat on the bed looking down at the dress you'd bought on credit, you started to question your level of understanding. Just how much can a girl take before she says never mind and moves on?

Taking a deep breath, you knew what you needed to do. You resolved not to watch another movie on Netflix or whine into a bowl of Haagen Dazs. You were supposed to be going to a party tonight. And that's just what you were gonna do, Harry or no Harry.

Grabbing your bag and your phone, you headed out the door. As soon as you pulled up to the valet, you saw the crowd of people, for a moment second guessing your decision. But when your door opened and the valet held out his hand, you took it, stepping out of the car into the warm night and handing him the keys. Had you been with Harry, no doubt the cameras would have been flashing a thousand times more than they were now, but regardless of his absence, you knew photos were being taken of you. You didn't care. You were determined to have a good time.

When you walked into the room, the music hit you instantly, the bass vibrating in your chest. You gazed around to see if you saw any familiar faces. You saw a few, but nobody that you had been introduced to yet. Finding the bar, you quickly ordered a drink, swaying your hips to the beat. Within minutes, you were feeling loose and carefree, ready to dance.

Squeezing past a handful of people, you made it to the middle of the dance floor, raising your hands above your head. Almost immediately, two girls that you recognized smiled and joined you. Soon, you had a small crowd around you, all of you lost in the music and the vibe.

Three or four songs later, you made your way back to the bar, ordering yourself a shot and another cocktail. The two girls you'd recognized chatted with you for a bit before you noticed one of the guys that had been dancing near you giving you the eye. Momentarily you wished Harry was with you, but you quickly shrugged off the thought, feeling good to be noticed.

An hour and a couple drinks later, you were back on the dance floor, the crowd now so big that everyone was touching, barely any space between their bodies. You felt a pair of hands on your hips, a male body pressed up against yours. Perhaps it was your now inebriated state or just the uninhibited high you felt, but you leaned back into him, not caring at all who was watching.

That's when you saw him.

The hairs on the back of your neck tickled your skin as his eyes burned into yours. If you weren't so mad at him at that moment, he might have taken your breath away. As usual, he looked drop dead gorgeous.

Swallowing, you averted your gaze, grabbing the hands that continued to grip your hips, moving them up to your waist. You could feel him watching you as you allowed the faceless male behind you grind up against you. Suddenly, you felt a firm hand grab hold of your arm.

"What are you doing?" he growled.

Finally looking at him, you cocked a brow. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you came here without me and you're letting some bloke feel you up."

Swaying a bit, you gave Harry a smirk. "So what if I am?"

Clenching his jaw, he grabbed your arm tighter, pulling you off the dance floor. When you were both out of earshot, Harry stopped and you jerked your arm out of his grip.

"What the fuck Harry?" you scowled.

Her glared at you, looking like he was about to retort, but thought better of it, clamping his mouth shut. Blowing a breath out of his nostrils, he ran a hand through his curls. Finally, he opened his mouth again, this time to speak.

"I should be asking you that, shouldn't I?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" you nearly shouted.

"It means..." Harry paused, "it means I'm sorry I had to cancel, but I didn't expect to see some other bloody guy's hands on you!"

"Why not?" you shot back. "You don't give a shit about me!"

"What?"

"Admit it, Harry. It was fun while it lasted. But you've made it apparent that this isn't serious to you." You started to walk away, but Harry grabbed you by the wrist.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, the expression on his face a mixture of hurt and fury.

"You always have something else going on that's more important. Yes, I get that you're who you are. I knew that coming into this. But I'm tired of you canceling on me. I've had it. If I don't mean more to you, then I'm moving on. I'm saying goodbye right now."

This time you were able to remove your arm from his grasp, heading toward the ladies' room.

"[Y/N]!" he called, but you didn't turn around.

Once in the stall, you let the tears fall. The truth was, you liked him. A lot. You didn't really want to let him go. But you were so tired of being made to feel like a second choice, like you would always be there waiting on the back burner. You deserved more than that.

After washing your hands and freshening up, you made your way back to the party. You didn't see any sign of Harry, so you assumed he'd probably given up and left. Fine. So be it. When you returned to the bar for another drink, however, you heard a low voice in your ear.

"Can we talk about this?"

You barely shifted your gaze to look at him, standing so closely behind you, you could feel his breath against your neck.

"Please?"

You closed your eyes softly before turning around to face him. This time all of the anger he'd shown before had dissipated, leaving only a face of concern. You swallowed hard, opening your lips, but giving only a nod instead.

"I'm really sorry," he confessed, his shoulders dropping.

You bit your lower lip, wanting to believe him, but still holding your ground.

"If you say so," you muttered.

Harry sighed. "[Y/N], Jesus, what can I do to show you I care about you? That I want to be with you?"

"Stop canceling on me!" you yelled a little louder than you'd meant to.

"I can't...I can't always help that. If I have a last-minute work commitment, I have to tend to it. It has nothing to do with not wanting you, or not making you a priority. Please understand that."

Harry's tone was still firm though laced with frustration. You stared at him for a moment, trying hard not to cave. He could feel your resistance, so he threw his hands up.

"I don't know what else to do."

"I don't either," you said. "Maybe this just isn't working out, Harry."

"So that's it?" he shook his head in disbelief. "It's over?"

You blinked. "I guess so."

Harry gave you one last blank stare before turning on his heels and walking away. You drew a shaky breath, letting it out in the same fashion. The drink you had been determined to order to wash the pain away suddenly had no appeal. In fact, you now felt completely sober. Stepping away from the bar, you made your way closer to the exit until you finally found yourself outside waiting for the valet to bring your car around.

You weren't really sure how you made it home. You barely remembered the drive at all. You felt utterly numb. Stripping out of your dress, you hung it back up in the closet and changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Suddenly, another wave of anger came over you. So fucking what if Harry Styles didn't want you! You pulled your hair back into a ponytail and scrubbed off your makeup, getting more perturbed with each wipe of your hands. By the time you were finished, your cheeks flushed from the cleanse as well as annoyance, you realized you were crying.

Dammit! you cursed just as you heard a knock at the door. Or at least you thought you did. You paused in the hallway to listen for it, and when another knock came, you quickly wiped your eyes, heading toward the sound.

Harry stood on the other side of the door, a similar look on his face as your own. You let out a gasp, your lips beginning to say his name before he crossed the threshold and took your face into his hands, kissing you passionately.

"Ha-Harry," you managed to whisper when he finally pulled away.

"Listen to me, [Y/N]," he insisted. "I want you. I want us."

Blinking back a fresh set of tears, you looked at him, speechless. Pursing his lips, Harry breathed out of his nostrils before continuing.

"I'll show you how much. I felt gutted that I'd disappointed you again, having to cancel our date. I was able to get out early, so I called you, but got no answer. So I came over. And you weren't home. I called again, still nothing. I stood here in your fucking hallway trying to ring you until your neighbor saw me and said they'd seen you leave in a 'hot little number'," said Harry, using air quotes on the last three words. "I thought maybe you'd decided to go to the party. Wondering why or how didn't even register at the time. I was just thinking it would be nice to see you there. I'd show up and we could enjoy the rest of the evening together. I had no idea you were doing it out of spite, like some sort of way to get back at me for letting you down."

"I'm sor-" you began, but Harry pressed his finger to your lips.

"I'm not saying this to make you feel guilty," he added. "You’re entitled to feel the way you feel. But I gotta admit, that shook me to the core seeing you with your body right up against some other guy."

"It did?" you murmured underneath his finger.

Harry nodded, finally releasing his finger from your mouth, allowing it to slide down your chin.

"Yeah. It did." He took another deep breath, letting it out roughly. "Maybe it's what I needed. Like a wake-up call."

"Harry, I-"

"Let me finish," he interrupted again. The furrow of his brows erased as he gave a small smile. "Please."

You chuckled lightly. "Maybe you should get inside the door first."

Harry laughed with you, stepping further into your apartment, allowing you to shut the door behind him. Then he took your hands in his.

"There's something else I have to confess," he swallowed. "And I was going to tell you tonight. But then..."

His voice trailed off as he looked at the floor.

"What is it?" you asked meekly.

Harry cleared his throat and looked up slowly. "Lately I've been feeling like...like I'm falling for y-"

This time it was your turn to silence him with your finger. Tears welled up in your eyes again as you felt your breath catch in your throat.

"Don't say it, Harry," you muttered.

"No?" he shook his head, his eyes wide in question.

"Not if you're just trying to get me back," you choked. "Not unless..."

Harry grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to him, his mouth crashing into yours with fervor and avidity. You heard yourself groan against his lips, your arms eagerly grabbing hold of his neck, needing to feel his body as close to yours as possible.

"...you mean it," you managed to finish between kisses.

You didn't need to hear Harry's response in words. He said it all as he lifted you up by the hips, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist, and he led you back to the bedroom.

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[bvbygrl-writes]

Wrong House

Pairing: Stu Macher x Nerdy!Reader x Billy Loomis

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: A step into wrong house leads to a night of the right fun.

A/N: I was not supposed to upload this tonight but I'm too excited about it. I'm not proof reading this long ass shit either so if something is spelled wrong use your imagination to fix it, mwuah! <3

Warnings: reader has afab anatomy breaking and entering, knife play, homoerotic themes (they kiss but nothing more than that), mentions of murder, eiffel towering, loss of virginity, coercion and ultimatums, rope bandage, panty kink, and panty sniffing.

THIS FIC IS 18+!!! MINORS / ACCOUNTS WITHOUT AGE DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED WITH NO WARNING BUT THIS ONE.

(Y/n) was naturally an anxious girl but, with her parents out of town and the string of murders happening, she was on edge. She had every single light on in the house, the downstairs tv on, anything to make it seem as though the house was full of life. The reporters on the radio had told people to stay together and while most of the students in school had that option, she didn’t. Nobody wanted to be friends with the quiet girl who still wore Care Bear sweaters and could recite Star Trek lines from memory.

Nibbling the end of her pencil, she let out an exasperated sigh. She had been staring at the same math problem in her textbook for a good 45 minutes. “Focus, (Y/n/n), focus. If you do end up living through all of this, you’ll want to get into a good college.If you fail, mom and dad will make you wish you were dead.” she said out loud to herself, a sad laugh falling from her lips. At that same moment, her stomach began to grumble. When was the last time she ate? Reaching for the phone, she dialed the number to her favorite chinese food place. She loved it because the food was cheap and they were one of the only places that delivered something other than pizza after 10PM. 

“Alright, thank you!” she said, placing the phone back on the receiver. It’d be about a 20 minute wait, giving her time to focus more on her work. Sighing she sat back down in front of her textbook, staring at the page until the numbers started to blur together. “Well, that’s enough of that! I should get the money for the delivery driver seeing as it’ll be here in…” glancing at the clock on her wall she sighed, “Twenty minutes.” ignoring that face, she stood up, bunny slippers stomping over the carpeted floor to the piggy bank on her dresser. She pulled out a 10 dollar bill along with a 5 for the tip. But before (Y/n) could even get to her door, she heard a noise at the front door. 

“Th-that’s weird. There’s still nineteen minutes an-” she shrieked at the sound of the door bursting open. Every anxiety filled thought she had had since being home by herself was coming true. The blood drained from her face, her body growing light at the sound of the voices coming from the living room. Tears began to form in the corner of her eyes as she turned off the lights and closed her bedroom door. The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs put in perspective just how real this all was. She silently cursed her dad for never fixing the damn lock on her window. She might’ve broken a few bones from jumping, but that’d be better than being completely dead! Looking around her room she made the decision to jump in her closet, closing the accordion door.

She became aware of how loudly she was breathing, clamping her hands over her mouth. Her body trembled with terror. ‘Is this how I die? Alone, never experiencing friendship or love?’ Was this really the time to be feeling sorry for her lack of social and love life? ‘Well to be fair, this may be one of the last times I’m able to feel anything whatsoever.’ The sound of her bedroom door opening instantly made her mind go blank. The girl felt as though she was having a heart attack and honestly? She would have preferred that to whatever death she was about to experience.

“Are you sure this is the right house? This doesn’t look like Chelsea’s room.” A male’s voice remarked, the lights flicking on. She could see through the small slots on the folding door that there were two men. One had dark hair and a knife in his hand. The other one was taller with blonde hair and a backpack with god knows what inside of it.

“Yeah, dude! This is 345 Avalee Lane.” the other one exclaimed, an almost sinister grin on his face. The dark hair one made a sound that was a mix of a growl and a sigh.

“You fucking idiot! Chelsea lives in 348, we’re in the wrong house!” he pinched the bridge of his nose, kicking over the little trash can near her desk across the room. (Y/n) relaxed a bit. Maybe since they weren’t looking for her they’d just leave?

“Well at least no one’s home, we can just get out of here.” The blonde one rasped out, eating a piece of candy off of her dresser before tossing the wrapper on the ground. ‘Rude’ she thought.

“The lights and the tv were on. Someone’s definitely in this house. I’m going to go check the other rooms and you look around this one a bit better. We can’t take any chances.” The brunette exited the room and in the distance he heard the sound of different doors being opened. 

The blonde one began to hum, snooping around her room. He walked over to her dresser, opening up her panty drawer. A smile grew on his face as he held up a pair of white ones with a pink lace trim, shoving them in the back pocket of his baggy jeans. “Cute.” he said to himself (or so he thought). Walking over to her bed, he tossed the covers back before bending down to check under the bed as well. Next, he walked over to the cupboard of her collectable figurines, opening up the door. “Hm.” he shrugged before beginning to exit the room. She removed her hands from her mouth, placing them on the floor beside her as she let her body relax. However, before he could leave, she could see a lightbulb go off in his brain as he turned around walking towards the closet. The girl’s eyes went wide as she shook her head. As he opened the closet door, she couldn’t even manage to make a sound. A look of surprise made its way onto his face before he began to grin. “You’ve got cute little undies. Hey Billy!”

All (Y/n) could do was sit there in shock. She recognized this boy, he was in her art classes although he rarely showed up. Now that she could really see his face, he was quite attractive. Before she could delve into why she was letting herself think that, the other one (who she assumed was Billy) appeared right next to him. Although he had a scowl on his face, he was just as attractive. ‘Well, you always said you wanted a cute guy to notice you. There’s two! But you should’ve been more specific, huh (Y/n/n)?’ 

“She’s kind of cute in a dorky little way, ain’t she?” Stu commented as Billy used his knife to lift her chin. She didn’t dare stop making eye contact with Billy for fear of what he might do with that knife the second she did. He tilted her face around, examining it from all sorts of angles before he chuckled.

“She is. (Y/n), right? You’re the girl that’s always winning those sciences awards at school. We have AP English together.” he said in a calm tone. This was the strangest thing she had ever experienced. Why were they dragging this on so much when they could just kill her and get it over with?

“M-mmm-mhm!” she stuttered out, nodding her head ever so slightly so she didn’t cut herself on the blade. 

“Although I agree with my friend here, you still find yourself to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. See, I’ve got a plan and if I let you live, there’s a big chance you’re going to blab and ruin it for me.” he said, his words coming out through gritted teeth towards the end. “So unfortunately, your time’s up.”

“No, no please! I-I-I won’t blab and tell! I don’t have any friends or anyone to tell I won’t tell please! I promise!” she sobbed, begging for her life as he pressed the knife against her neck harder. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, which would also explain the sensation happening between her legs. Fat tears continued to stream down her face. “I promise please there’s gotta be a way!” she continued to plead for her life, waiting for something, just anything to happen. Whatever it’d take for this situation to be over. However, she was surprised when the knife suddenly was no longer pressed to her neck. Looking up, she saw the blonde one’s hand had moved it away and he was whispering something into Billy’s ear. Their eyes kept flickering to parts of the room and then back to her before Billy gave a singular nod. 

“It seems my friend Stu here has taken quite a liking to you so here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to have a bit of fun with you and if we enjoy it, you live and we’ll be back to get you after we finish some…business. And if not, I’ll slit your throat right after we finish. Does that sound fair?” Billy said, tugging her from her sitting position to be in between the both of them. She nodded frantically, happy to have even a small chance of living. She knew they were probably going to kill her when they were done, but at least that moment was suspended for a bit longer.

“Wh-what do I need t-to do?” she asked, her heart racing as she looked up at the two of them. They were completely dwarfing her with their size, it was like being trapped between two incredibly hot trees. Stu grinned at her once again before stepping back a bit.

“Well you can start by stripping!” he instructed, phrasing it like a suggestion even though she knew it wasn’t. She nodded, taking off her cream colored sweater, sliding her Power Rangers pajama pants down right after. She began to hesitate slightly as now she was just in her slippers and underwear.

“Allow me.” Billy said, using his knife to snip off her bra. He started at the shoulder straps, taking a moment to stare at her breast before tearing the backband as well. She didn’t try to cover up, knowing her chances of survival would dwindle to none. He went to pull down her panties but Stu stopped him, shaking his head.

“Leave those on her.” he said, before getting down on his knees in front of her. Billy held her arms behind her back with one of his, peeking over the girl’s shoulders to see what his moronic friend had planned. What she didn’t expect was for him to bury his face into her underwear-clad pussy and sniff. Stu let out a low moan as he did, eyes rolling back in pleasure. He continued to sniff at her front, his nose nudging her clit through the fabric. “God that’s amazing. Looks like she’s enjoying it too.” he said, rubbing his finger on the wet spot forming on her panties. He gently pressed his fingers against the fabric causing (Y/n) to squirm a bit, a gentle moan falling from her mouth.

“Oh, that’s such a pretty noise.” Billy purrs lowly in her ear. Standing from the floor, Stu lifts his fingers up to Billy’s mouth and without thinking, he opens it. The girl watches in awe, her clit beginning to throb at the way the two men were interacting with one another. Stu slowly pulls his fingers from the man’s mouth, biting his lip as the other man licks his. “Did you want a taste?” he asks in a deep tone. At the same time, they both lean over and begin to share a passionate and heated open mouth kiss. Little moans and grunts fall from them, a gasp falling from her own lips as Stu grips at her waist, beginning to grind against her front, his bulge slotted between her slit. Billy mimics his actions, grinding his cock against her ass. She was glad the two were holding her up, because at the current moment she wasn’t sure if her legs would work. This was a whole new world for her. She had never been kissed or even touched by one man let alone two. The noises falling from her mouth were completely out of her control, the sensation of their rhythmic rubbing along with the scene of them kissing above her was all too much for her to handle. 

As though they could hear her thoughts, they pulled away from their kiss, turning their attention back to her. She hadn’t even realized that the knife was completely gone now. If she wanted to, she could’ve ran and gotten away. If she wanted to. Billy gripped her arms once more, beginning to walk her over to the bed. She felt her face grow warm at the collection of stuffed animals, causing her to look at the ground. “They keep me warm at night.” she defended weakly. Stu laughed, cooing at her before picking one up and turning it to face the wall, repeating the action several times with the other one.

Billy groaned, annoyed. “Seriously?”

“What? I know how the girls get about that sort of thing.” As Stu continued with his antics, the brunette reached for his friend’s bag. (Y/n) eyed him curiously, thinking he had changed his mind on their deal but was relieved when all he pulled out was a bit of rope. Wait, rope? He tossed it up and down smirking at her before positioning himself behind her as he began to tie her hands together. ‘This is better than whatever they usually probably use this for.’ She tugged at the rope, the friction causing a mild irritation from the action. He pushed her a bit, causing her to fall forward onto the bed. Her ass was in the air while the upper part of her body fell down due to having no support. She listened to the sound of belts and pants clambering before feeling the bed dip down behind her. At that same time, a pair of legs kneeled in front of her as well. She felt as a hand carded it’s way through her hair before tightening, lifting her face to be eye level with a cock. Peering up, she saw that it was Billy.

“Are you gonna open up or am I going to have to do it for you?” he asked, causing a bit of panic to flash through the girl’s (e/c) eyes.

“S-sorry. I’ve never done any of this before.” she muttered, causing a whistle from behind her. She could imagine the grin on Stu's face.

“A cute virgin?! How lucky are we tonight? Oh this is going to be fun. I haven’t popped a cherry in quite a long time.” Stu gushed, rubbing his hands together. “I can barely contain myself!” her panties were then pulled to the side, long fingers beginning to rub all along her slick covered folds. She let out a whimper, her knees trembling as he began to rub circles on her clit. As he slid a finger in, her mouth fell open which Billy saw as the perfect opportunity. Gripping her hair a bit tighter, he began to slide his cock into her mouth slowly. He stared down at her face, watching as her mouth began to struggle with the girth of him, tears falling down her face.

“You better stop with all those tears, I really don’t wanna cum this early.” Billy teased, beginning to rock his hips back and forth. He hissed in pleasure at her tight and warm little mouth, tossing his head back as he let out a guttural moan. Behind her, Stu had managed to work the third finger in, stretching and scissoring them around.Gripping her hip with one hand, he used his other to glide his cock along her lips causing them to both moan. “Hurry up, I wanna pick up the pace but I’m trying to make it easier for you.”

“I’m going!” and with that, Stu slid his cock in with one swift motion. His grip on her hips tightened at the same time her walls did as he fell forward for a bit, head resting against the small of her back. “G-god, oh fuck! You’ve got a tight little pussy, huh?” he said through gritted teeth, beginning to pound into her at an almost animalistic pace. Her pussy drooled around his cock as she continued to moan around Billy, choking as he also picked up his pace. Their thrust were alternating. As Stu would pull his cock out some, Billy’s would enter her throat deep, barely giving her a chance to get used to anything. She had already came around his cock twice, the feeling being overwhelmingly pleasurable. 

They were using her like a doll, holding her up and angling her just right. All she could do was sob and take it, the only thing on her mind was their cocks and her life. She didn’t even care if she was going to die after this, this was the best thing she had ever experienced in her life. 

“You look so helpless when you cry. God, Stu I wish you could see her right now.” Billy moaned out, staring down into those wet (e/c) eyes. Picking up his pace, he gripped at her scalp, full on skull fucking her now. His thrust had grown sloppy and so had his counterpart’s. 

“Tr-trust me, my view is just as good. I’m cl-close!” he whined out, reaching a finger down to rub at the girl's sensitive and swollen clit. (Y/n) screamed around Billy’s cock sending him over the edge. Pulling out, he coated her face and hair in a load of sticky white cum. Watching Billy stroke his cock over her face pushed Stu over the edge as well, causing him to bounce her back on his dick, whimpering as he came deep inside of her. 

The room fell silent and as (Y/n) came to her senses, the question of the hour came back to haunt her. Was she going to live?

“Are you satisfied, Stu?”

“More than, man.”

“Well..” Billy trailed off, stepping off of the bed. As Stu pulled out, she felt cold and exposed. Both men stood behind her, staring as the load of cum began to roll down the back of her legs. The brunette reached forward, grabbing her wrist rather roughly before untying her. “I guess you live. We’ll be back. In the meantime, get cleaned up.” the sound of the doorbell ringing caused the two men to look out the window, thinking she had somehow managed to get in contact with help. However, they both relaxed at the sight of the delivery truck on the outside of the house. 

“Make sure you save me some chow mein!” Stu said. The girl rolled over on her back, letting out a breathless laugh watching as the two quickly got dressed. Before they headed for the bedroom door, Stu took her panties off of her, sticking them in the front pocket of his jeans. 

“For good luck!”

[blueteller]

You know... I often think about the fact that out of all events in TCF? Rescuing Raon was the most important.

It wasn't just because Cale got himself a "Draco Ex Machina" at his side that could use OP magic at his convenience. He could have used tools or Rosalyn's magic instead, at the beginning at least. We saw how he planned ahead and used an enchanted tool to make Taylor and Cage invisible to sneak them into the capital.

It wasn't just because through Raon, Cale was able to make connection with Eruhaben and later Sheritt and many other Dragons. They were important for their victory, but Cale could have gotten in contact with them through other ways – Pendrick, for example.

It wasn't just because Raon could detect things like dead mana or magical traps and disguises – even if Rosalyn wouldn't be able to, Cale would have probably figured out Alberu's connection to Dark Elves sooner or later. He already had suspicions about "a secret to his birth" before Raon mentioned the dyed hair.

Yes, those thing mattered, don't get me wrong. But, out of all the changes Cale made after his transmigration – saving Raon was the event that truly changed the whole game... not for the world, but for Cale himself.

Raon was, in many instances, the pushing force behind Cale's motivation to participate in various events. Slacker life? Cale's wishful thinking. But the motivation to actively get people involved – like Mary, for example. Raon was the one who cheered Cale on, kept him company through everything, especially the tough times. Raon was the one who, along with On and Hong, melted Cale's heart the fastest, getting this stubborn, traumatized man to admit they were "family". It's not that he wouldn't be a good man doing good things without Raon; but without Raon he would be in a lot more denial (even more than he already is!!) about why he is doing such things.

Raon represents everything Cale loves about his new life. The joy, the hope for the future, the curiosity and enthusiasm. Yes Cale often acts tired of (or freaks out over) Raon's antics or pretends to ignore him. But in the end... he never actually does. Cale never stops paying attention to him or tells him to go away.

Raon was the one who truly "got under his skin", so to speak. Cale wholeheartedly trusts and respects Raon. Of course, Raon is still a child under his protection... The reason why Cale always insisted on him staying hidden, throughout most of their adventures. I remember the moment Cale got the Dragon Blood Drinking Crown, and his first reaction was "let's throw this away/destroy it". The utter repulsion towards anything that could be a danger to Raon, despite how potentially useful such an artifact could be, logic be damned. Or that moment when they met the White Star for the first time, the villain telling Cale how he would kill the child and feed his heart to him – how Cale outwardly showed terror for the first time in the whole novel, instantly hugging Raon close to him and activating the shield to its fullest.

That's what really gets to me, you know? Raon's protectiveness for Cale is so obvious, but Cale is just as protective of him in return. I truly believe that while all relationships that Cale had shaped him as a person (just like the God of Death stated in his letter to him), the relationship between Cale and Raon is one that shaped them both in equal measure on both sides.

This relationship between them feels like fate, and that's no accident.

Changing Raon's fate was fundamental for saving the world, yes. But it equally important for Cale's own growth. An event which happened right at the beginning on the story, shaped the course of the entire future.

[hypnos333]

Slowed to Anger

Alastor x reader

Synopsis: You loved the hotel and yet you risked your life for it

“Omg! Alaster I can’t believe you’re doing this and it looks so nice, I can’t wait to decorate” You gushed looking everywhere around the hotel making him chuckle.

“I’m glad you find this Journey to find this exciting my dear, I wish I could say the same but i’m stuck on a leash” Alaster sigh still smiling but with a broken one. You wrap your arms around his neck forcing him to wrap his around your waist.

“We’ll break this deal so we can go back to living happily together” You said kissing his temple as he closed his eyes as your kisses. “We have been married for decades it’s nothing we can’t handle My love” You continued saying.

Little did you know this was gonna be very different from those decades.

A war broke out between heaven and hell and you were against Lute and keep in mind you weren’t the best in combat nor fighting but you did have powers and you were gonna try your best to survive for Alastor.

You are a doe it made you fast but you felt like a prey everywhere and every time.

You created multiple shadows to corner Lute making her struggle until she actually stabbed you making clueless before looking down at your heart.

“Oh fucking hell” You whispered until your eyes went wide realizing what’s happening. You held onto the sword before Lute pulled it out of you before this time stabbing you in the stomach making you instantly let the life leave from inside of you.

Lute was about to check your pulse until a shadow elopes you making you disappear within an instant.

“M-My dear?” He asked hesitantly in horror seeing you gone and dead. He quickly held you into his arms rocking back in forth trying to heal you he couldn’t because he was trapped.

“No, No No No No NO NONONONONO” He yells out his smile vanished as tears leaked down his face and onto your body.

“This place reeks of death, there's a chill in the air

And I barely escaped being killed by a hair

My wife risked her life just to see the hotel thrive

"Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends while wife takes the fall"

Sorry to disappoint, that is not where this ends

I'm hungry for freedom like never before

The constraints of my deal surely have a backdoor

Once I figure out how to unclip my wings

Guess who will be pulling all the strings?” He sang before hiding your body somewhere safe to keep so when he gets your soul, you can come back home to him just like you wanted to do.

[merrygay]

Bound and broken

Qimir x reader (enemies to lovers)

Warning : Jealous Qimir, Yandere themes, Possessive Qimir, afab reader, Enemies to lovers. English is not my first language.

Synopsis : Qimir could never forget you, you consumed his every thought, haunting his senses. It’s been years since he last saw you… until now.

 “you”

Your voice cracked, you felt as if your legs were going to leave, your gaze traveled around his features, eyes widening in both horror and in a desperate plea for not to be true, as realization settled in, each breathing became rapid as if a hand was over your mouth smothering you. You lowered your lightsaber, putting your other hand over your chest, you tried to breathe but you couldn’t, tears frightening to trickle down your eyes as you were looking around you, dead bodies, after dead bodies, almost all the jedis that came with you were dead. 

The Jedi killer in front of you was standing still, in contrast to your emotional distress, his eyes lit on fire, he was ready to fight, ready about what’s going to come, his red lightsaber standing proud while yours was frightening to fall down in your own hand. 

“Hello old friend” He spoke with a nostalgic tone, his voice tinged with a wistful longing for the past, yet a faint smirk played on his lips, hinting at a mixture of amusement and irony.

That day you begged the maker like you never had before. You implored not to be true, it can’t be him… please. You begged a painful truth to be washed, to be erased from this planet, from the entire galaxy. My old friend wouldn't do this ! You tried to deny, please he wouldn't, I swear it ! You tried to promise. Lies, lies and lies…

You opened your mouth but no words came out, your lips, slightly parted, caught in a whisper of pain, trembled ever so slightly. The curve of your mouth was tinged with despair, a silent testament to the heartbreak you were enduring.

No attachment the Jedi order said, and you followed that rule dearly, but only one person could shatter this rule into pieces, and that one person was Qimir, your old friend.

He at least let you digest the unbearable truth, once a dead friend now a dark sider. He was patiently waiting for your next move, his eyes traveled around your features, you never really changed, he noted, after all these years, except for your demeanor you weren’t a hopeful person anymore, once a lighthouse, your smile was a beacon of warmth and hope in the stormy seas of his once padawan life. Now, the light has dimmed a long time ago, leaving the horizon dark and forlorn, your joy hidden behind clouds of silence. 

Was it because of him? He asked himself, clinging to the hope that it was. He longed for the thought of him to consume your days, your nights, and every fleeting moment in between. He wished to invade your dreams and nightmares alike, until your mind was clouded with nothing but him. Just as you had enveloped his every thought, all these years being apart from you. 

You tried to collect yourself, tightening your grip around your lightsaber, your gaze never wavering from the Jedi-killer you once called “friend”. With a deliberate motion, you unfastened the clasp of your cloak. The fabric, once draped around you like a shadow, fell away to reveal your form beneath. Your Jedi apparel was one of black, showing your never ceasing grieve after learning about his supposed death. You summoned the Force, drawing another lightsaber from the ground near a cold, lifeless body that was once brimming with hope. 

You got into a fighting stance. Eyes Locked in yours, Qimir angled his body and started moving to the right. You instantly mirrored him, the both of you circled each other with calculated steps. 

“You really didn’t know i was alive” He declared, disappointed. Was our bond throughout the force not strong enough for you to not know whether he was alive or not ? He asks himself. Is it because of the pitiful jedis that surrounded you and clouded your mind ?

He clenched his jaw, jealousy surged through him, consuming his every sense. He had felt the unique connection you shared with those two Jedis. Master Sol and the dead one, Yord was it ? It didn’t matter anymore. 

Without any warning Qimir wielded his lightsaber, clashing it against yours in a brutal force, getting rid of the distance between you two rather quickly, your face was now just inches apart from him.

Finally he spoke again, almost a whisper. A fragile blend of desperation, anger, and jealousy lacing his words. “Not even deep down ?”. 

With a determined growl, you pushed forward, using his lightsaber to drive him back. The brilliant glow of your blades illuminates the strain on both your faces, creating stark contrasts against the inky blackness of the forest. And it continued that way for a while, lightsabers clashing against each other while your movements wove together in a violent rhythm, a tragic dance. Qimir's fighting style was different, brutal, violent, he did not follow any rule, any principles. Eat or be eaten, peace was never an option.   

“Retreat now, this fight serves you no purpose ! Your life will be more doomed than it already is ! ” you urged, preparing yourself for another strike.

“My life as a jedi was already doomed the moment I laid eyes on you” he stated.

You frowned deeply, lowering your lightsaber with obvious confusion in your face “What are you talking about ?” you demanded. 

Before you could process any answer he jumped on you again, this time his leg kicked you right on your stomach making you curse yourself from getting distracted. The intensity of his action made your jump backwards, your back landed on a tree making you yelp in pain. 

"Fark!" you cursed under your breath as you struggled to get back on your feet. But it was no use, the distance between you and your lightsabers was too great. Desperation surged through you as you reached out with the Force, trying to summon at least one of the hilts back to your grasp. It began to stir, but before it could reach you, Qimir’s dark presence intervened. With a flick of his hand, he halted your attempt, his eyes fixed on you with a menacing gleam as he advanced, each step deliberate and threatening.

"How ironic that the very rule and lessons you Jedi swore to uphold have led to your defeat."

He lowered himself to get even closer to you, before you could make any sudden movement he pressed his red lightsaber against your shoulder. The intense heat of the lightsaber seared through your shoulder, causing a sharp, biting pain that radiated outward.

“I will die happily as one too”, you stammered painfully, your head felt dizzy as the agony surged through every part of your body.

He titled his head at your response, visibly a bit impressed at your stubbornness or did he find you rather stupid ? you couldn't really tell. He was getting dangerously close to your face, looking at your features carefully which was contorted with pain, every muscle tensed in a grimace of distress even after he stopped his lightsaber from harming you.

“I will kill the entire galaxy before I even kill you”, he whispered in your ear, making sure you heard each word clearly, before you felt yourself slipping away into unconsciousness as he used the Force to make you faint.

He looked at your passed out state. Carefully he slipped one arm under your shoulders and the other beneath your knees, lifting you from the cold ground, he could feel the faint, uneven breaths brushing against his neck as he started walking deeper into the forest before any other jedis came to your rescue.

————————————————————————————

Chat how do we feel about this, I might write a part 2

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - FIX YOU

A/N: Guys, it's happening! It's here! Old man Logan story for you! I don't know if you'll like it. This is what I always imagined after seeing "Logan" movie. I am a sucker for happy endings, I guess. Let me know what you think. I tried my best.

Pairing: Old man Logan Howlett x Mutant! female reader

Warning: angst, some fluff, nudity, extremely light smut

Words: 6800+

Important notes: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine | Inaccurate information from the movie. I just wanted to write my own thing, so just be aware of that.

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - FIX YOU (OLD MAN LOGAN) 

Shitty year. Shitty life. The only thing that eased the pain and his thoughts was the booze. He was able to get drunk. Fucking finally. No one stopped him from the liquid poison. Why would they? No one was alive. Everyone was dead, under the daisies. Sniffing them with their skeletons. All thanks to Charles. Now, that old senile fuck wouldn’t die no matter what. Fucking telepath. 

Logan threw another empty bottle on the dusty ground, snarling as he limped back to the driver’s seat of the limo. His phone had been ringing for some time now. It meant another job for him. He took a minute to collect himself to look at the notification. He hoped to call it a day. That dream died sooner than his appetite for alcohol.

One passenger, long ass drive around El Paso. Fucking rich people that don’t know what to do with their money, he thought. Last night, he drove a bunch of drunk chicks from a bachelorette party, showing him their tits. At least some fun, nice round things to look at. Tonight, it wouldn’t be as entertaining.

Touching the screen, he accepted the offer and put the phone into a holder. His eyes found another empty bottle on the passenger’s seat. Logan threw it out the window. He drove off the side road and headed to pick up the next customer. He hoped it would be someone calm. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with drunks and skanks. 

God he wished the day would end soon -  well, night. He was tired, hungry and was already in need of booze to ease his mind and pain. This life sucked. Ever since Charles managed to kill everyone over a year ago, living in this world has been a nightmare. Instinctively, he patted the spot on his jacket where he carried an adamantium bullet. Logan kept it with him, to end his life once he felt like it wasn’t worth living anymore. 

When he came to the pick-up spot, he frowned. There was one person, as expected. He pictured a guy standing there, like the one he drove to a hotel a week ago. This was a woman. She was dressed in all black, with a big black hat and massive sunglasses. Snobby girl using daddy’s money, he thought. Besides, who the fuck wears sunglasses in the evening?

Logan was ready to leave the limo and open the door for her. However, the woman was faster. She got inside on her own. At least she was capable of doing that. 

He drove away, heading to… wait, where were they headed? He grabbed his phone to look at the final destination. There was none. He noticed a note: Please drive around the city. Fuck, he wasn’t going to do that. He wanted to go back home. 

Logan rolled down the partition, mouth open to ask the question. But he was met with the woman sitting right behind him as if she was waiting for him to address her. Something inside told him to be careful. Goose bumps ran through his devastated body. 

“Where to, miss?” was all he asked. 

Her head turned to the side. Logan noticed the shape of her lips covered in crimson-red lipstick. To him, they reminded him of someone. His mind went instantly back to the days when everyone was alive. There was one person he missed the most. She used to wear a colour like that on her lips. God, he hated thinking about her. It was too painful.

“Just keep driving,” the woman replied. 

That voice. Holy fuck, how sweet and familiar it was. The booze was playing tricks on him, he was sure of it. No, she was dead. Everyone was dead. Charles killed almost all X-men with his seizure-inducted psychic attack. 

He took a deep breath to calm down. When a familiar scent hit his nostrils, he squinted at the woman. What the fuck was this? This was just some mind game of his brain. “That’s not how things work, miss.” 

She chuckled and took off her sunglasses. When her eyes met his, Logan jumped on the brakes and the limo halted abruptly. One hand rested on the steering wheel while the rest of his body turned around to look better into her face. What the fuck was happening?

“Hey, Logan,” the woman said his name. It sounded like the most beautiful melody that hit his ears.

“Y/N?” he whispered her name. 

The cars behind them started to honk aggressively. The limo was in their way, slowing the traffic down. It wasn’t wise to stand in the middle of the street. Logan cursed and started to drive again, his eyes watching Y/N through the rear-view mirror like a hawk. He feared that one blink later she’d be gone. 

He drove them to a silent street, where he knew they’d be alone, without anyone snooping around. The shock was replaced by anger and betrayal. How the fuck was she alive after everything that happened? 

Logan parked the car, his body turned back to face her. She should be glad there was the fucking partition separating them. His emotions were running wild. He’d be able to grab her by the neck and choke the truth out of her. “Fucking sing, right now woman. How the fuck are you alive?” 

“You sure this is safe?” she pointed at the outside. 

“Fuck, talk!” he raised his voice at her. “You’re supposed to be dead. How the fuck are you alive? Explain yourself before I do something I’ll regret for the rest of my miserable life.” Logan was fuming. It was like a wicked mind game. 

“I don’t know.”

He laughed. What a pathetic reply. “I should believe that?” 

Huffing, she moved to the door and stepped out of the limo. Logan got out a second later, limping towards her as fast as he could. With a painful grunt, he took the claws out of his right hand and grabbed her by the top of her long jacket. He pressed her against the vehicle. 

Y/N’s eyes locked with his. There wasn’t a hint of fear inside her. She remained calm. She expected this reaction, the distrust. Anyone would react this way. 

Her breathing was slow, even. “I can explain everything.” 

“You have one fucking minute,” he snarled.

“I’m gonna need more than that,” she said. 

He cursed under his nose. Logan let her go and stepped back to breathe. He was spiralling. Was this happening? This was a hallucination, he was sure of it. None of it was real. “Fuck, fuck! I mourned you. You’re supposed to be fucking dead like the rest of them!” He coughed.

It was painful to see him like this. One year could do a lot of damage - physical and mental. The man she once knew was broken and bruised. Carefully, her hand lifted to his face. She pressed the palm on his grey-brown beard-covered cheek. “Logan,” she said his name. “I’m so sorry for everything that happened.” 

“Shut up.” 

“So many lost, dead because of what Charles’s power did,” she continued. “I’m really sorry about this.”

As she was about to retract her hand, he grabbed her with his left one and pressed his lips on top of it. He inhaled her scent, felt the soft skin with his lips. Logan needed to be sure she was real and not just a figment of his imagination. “How?” he grunted. “How is this possible? I mourned you, Y/N,” he repeated.

She nodded, understanding. “There is a lot to discuss,” she said. “We need to go somewhere where we can talk. That’s why I wanted you to drive around. Standing here, where anyone can see us is dangerous.” 

Logan let her go. He huffed and wiped his face with a hand. The claws on the right hand were long gone. “Get in the car,” he ordered. “I know a place.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. Y/N sat on the passenger’s seat and Logan drove them away. Both of them made sure there weren’t any suspicious vehicles following them. El Paso was a big city, lightened up with many lights like Vegas. The city woke up for the night as the temperatures got acceptable to humans. 

“Is anyone else alive?” Logan asked after a while. His voice got softer. He was able to process the initial shock.

“No,” she shook her head. “Everyone’s dead. I should have been dead too.” 

“How come you are not?” 

She took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. “I think my mutation saved me. It got enhanced with Charles’s psychic attack, or what the hell that was. My mutation was always a protective one. I believe it helped me survive and regenerate. As if that whole situation unlocked something new inside me.” 

“Shit,” he gasped. “Is that even possible?”

She shrugged. “I recall something that Charles taught back at the school. High-stress situations can unlock mutant powers. Usually, it happens to teens and children. But, it’s not rare for mutant adults to have their mutation enhanced by stress, which can potentially bring out more powers.” 

Y/N reached into her boot and took out a pocket knife. As Logan stopped the limo at the red light, she showed him her forearm. “Look.” With one precise move, she cut her skin. Some blood dripped down her arm and onto her clothes. Next, it was sealed with a white light. The skin was nice and clean as if she never cut herself. 

Shit, she could regenerate now. It made sense she survived. “Damn. That didn’t happen before,” Logan commented. He thought back to the days when they were at the mutant school. She could get hurt like anyone else. Bleed like any mortal. “Just… tell me why did you decide to show up now? Why not when you woke up after that incident?” 

Logan drove them to the parking lot inside a building. It was big enough for the limo to fit through the driveway. Once he parked on the second level, he turned the gas off. 

“I didn’t know where you were or who was left alive,” she said. 

“A year, Y/N,” he glared at her. Logan’s eyes were red. He had bags under them, signalling the lack of sleep, the tiredness. “What the hell were you doing during that time?” 

The silence inside the car got heavy. This was a question she knew he’d ask. It was time to tell him everything that happened. 

Y/N turned her body to face him. Her eyes found his shaky hands. “I remember… the pain. A lot of it. My head was about to explode. There was a ringing sound in my ears. The ground was shaking. I could see our friends, the students, on the ground, yelling and gasping for air.

Then it was followed by darkness. When I woke up, I was in a morgue. There were so many of us, lying on cold tables. I was the only one alive. They were all dead.” She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. “I went through all the tables, saw all the dead faces of our friends and family.” 

Her voice broke. It was too painful to talk about what she went through when she woke up. How fast the world changed. Her hands trembled. “I went through all bodies,” she sobbed. “I saw all the lifeless faces. I cried my eyes out and mourned them. In the end, I realised two people were missing - you and Charles.” 

Logan’s expression softened. He was consumed by his anger and confusion. She came back to his life when he thought she was dead. He should consider it a blessing. A light came back into his dark life. Now, he learnt that her second chance at life was a complete disaster. Pain and death. 

“It took me some time to start again, trust the people around me. Afterwards, I started to look for you. I knew, deep inside, that you were alive somewhere. I made a plan, created a safe place for us once I’d find you. It took me half a year to get an intel that you were alive, here in El Paso.” 

Logan’s hand reached her face and wiped away the tears that ran down her cheeks. After all this time, he still had a soft spot for her. He always did. 

“It wasn’t easy to get here,” she continued. “Luckily, I had people from the past who owed me a couple of favours. I collected information about you. It was easy to discover you got Charles with you. I got intel about his state or how you’ve been trying to get meds for him. When possible, I’d arrange for extra medication for him.”

Logan sighed. “That was you?” 

She nodded. “Yeah. It wasn’t always possible. I tried my best to help you while I prepared for the whole plan I made.” 

He huffed. “Shit, I appreciate it, darlin’.” 

Y/N smiled at him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. I’m sorry I couldn’t…” 

“That’s okay-”

She grabbed his hand. Her fingers trailed the scars on it. They hid under the sleeves of his black jacket. “Do you… Do you know what’s happening to you?” she had to ask. “I can see you’ve changed, Logan.” 

“I’m an old man now,” he said. “I’m in constant pain, healing slowly but not fully. It’s clear I finally have my expiration date. I’ve been alive for almost 200 years. I’ve been through a lot of shit, good and bad.” 

“So,” she cleared her throat. “You feel like it’s your time to go?”

“I didn’t have a reason to live,” Logan admitted. He couldn’t look at her. His eyes were locked on the front window, watching the outside. “The X-men dead, no school, no mutants. I ended up taking care of Charles, who doesn’t want to die,” he grunted, frustrated. He smashed his hands against the steering wheel. 

Logan left the car abruptly. He needed to breathe, to move around and calm down. Charles once gave him a second chance at life. He welcomed him into the mutant school. Now, Logan wanted him to finally die. It was too much responsibility. And he was exhausted.

Y/N appeared before him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Logan,” she whispered his name. Her mouth opened to say some reassuring words when he pressed her against the limo. His big hands grabbed her by her face and pressed his lips to hers. 

It’s been a year since he last kissed her. She used to be his anchor, the love of his life. It got destroyed when everyone died - when he thought she died. And now, being here with her a year later, the need was back. Their lips moved in sync in a hungry kiss filled with sorrow. His tongue demanded entrance for further exploration. 

Y/N grabbed him by the white button-up. She missed his kisses, his touch. However, it felt different. The time apart made it feel a bit foreign and sad. Her heart wanted to explode.

Logan pushed away, breathing heavily. “Sorry,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“It’s okay,” Y/N quickly found his shoulders. “It’s been a fucked up year.” 

He pulled her into his arms, hiding her in a tight embrace. “With you here, back in my life, it changes everything,” he admitted. 

There was a short silence before Y/N told him something he didn’t know. “I know what’s happening to you, Logan.” 

They looked at each other. His brow lifted. “What?” His arms remained on her waist.

“It’s the adamantium,” she said. “It’s poisoning you, slowing down your healing factor and killing you.” 

“How do you know?”

She told him the story of how her trusted friend from the past was able to get to Logan’s blood sample from the time when he agreed to get the adamantium. They ran some tests and even got their hands on some of his bloody clothes from a few months back when he got shot by some men in a parking lot.

“With his help, we were able to do a full analysis and figure out that the adamantium would attack your cells more with time. It’s a toxic substance released from the metal that is killing you from the inside. It’s a whole complex situation. But,” she sighed, “he was able to figure it all out.” 

He huffed. “Well, there you go, darlin’. My time is running out. Fast.”

“What if…” she whispered. “What if there was a way to heal you? Would you want that?” 

This time, they parted away to have a better look at each other. “That’s a difficult one, Y/N. I know things won’t be the same as they were a year ago.”

The sadness appeared in her eyes and he noticed. “Oh…”

“I know things are so fucked up. No more mutants are being born. If there are any left, which I highly doubt, they are all hiding.” 

“You,” she started. “You wouldn’t want me back?” Y/N had to ask. She needed to know to move on. After everything, her heart belonged to him. 

Logan closed his eyes and thought about his reply. “I will want you until the day I die. And that’s the thing. My days are coming to an end. Look what happened to me. I’m an old fuck, who could be your fucking grandfather now.” 

“I still love you,” she said looking away. “I don’t care about any of it. You are my Logan. The one who protected me, helped me grow and made me a better person. Fuck, there was always a gigantic age gap between us. Do you think, just because you have grey hair and scars, will make me love you less?” 

Logan shook his head in disbelief. “I always knew you were too good for me. Even now, you’ve been helping me while I had no idea you were alive. Shit. Such an angel in disguise.” 

Y/N swallowed hard. A lump formed in her throat. “I have an antidote for you,” she blurted out. “If you want it. If you want a better life… with me.” She knew damn well how selfish and stupid it sounded. 

“Antidote?” 

She nodded. “I know, it’s crazy. I know you have no reason to trust me after being separated for a year, while you believed I was dead.” Her hands started to shake. The desperation was evident. She wanted him, needed him back in her life. “It’s up to you, Logan. I have it. If you want it.” 

His phone started to ring. Logan’s eyes moved to the car, seeing the phone still in the holder vibrating. It had to be Caliban. “Shit, I need to head back home.” 

Y/N’s heart dropped. Was this the end of it all? He didn’t want the antidote. He didn’t want her or another chance at life. “I understand.” 

Logan reached for her hand. “You are coming with me, darlin’. We are not done with this conversation. I am not fucking done with you.” He brought the hand to his lips and kissed it. “Get in the car.” 

“Logan-”

“No,” he shook his head. “You’re coming with me. Don’t you dare jump to conclusions, Y/N. We have a lot to discuss. And believe me, I’m not fucking letting you go.” 

A warm smile appeared on her face. “Okay.”

“I just fucking hope you don’t have to leave now.”

“No,” she smiled at him. “I’m staying. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll keep you safe, I swear on my life. I’ll get you out of here. Like I said, I already have a plan.” 

Logan helped her get inside the vehicle. He drove them out of El Paso to a place he now called home. It wasn’t much, but it was a place where they could hide and survive. It was located near the US/Mexican borders, in the middle of a dusty nowhere. 

Y/N watched his face the whole drive. She could see how he squinted, frowned out of nowhere. The smile that was on his face turned into a painful scowl. He was in pain. It was a moment like this when she wished she could heal other people with a simple touch. That’s not how her mutation worked. 

When they arrived at an old abandoned smelting plant, the air was warm. Dust and dry land hit her nostrils once she got out of the limo. 

“One more thing,” Logan said and coughed. “We have another mutant here. His name is Caliban.” 

She frowned at him. Everyone knew Caliban. “If I were you, I’d kill him for what he had done in the past. Fucker used to help Transigen for a long time, tracking mutants for them. You were too kind to take him in.”

Logan huffed. He reached his hand towards her. She approached him, taking his hand into his. He got her inside the rusty old building. Together, they walked into a section that could be called ‘the kitchen’. 

Y/N’s eyes wandered around, seeing all the empty bottles of alcohol. Old long rags hung from the walls. It was like a workroom. The smell of steel and ore. At least this was a safe place where they could sleep and eat. 

“Logan?” Y/N turned to the sound to meet Caliban. She noticed how his eyes widened when they landed on her. “Shit, you are alive.” 

“So are you,” she glared at him. 

He took a sniff, frowning. “If I had known you’re alive, I’d have smelt you. I would have known about your presence. Something is different about you. I can’t smell the mutation on you.” 

“Maybe it’s your own mutation weakening,” she growled at him. 

“Mind your own fucking business,” Logan glared at Caliban. 

“Don’t you find it odd that she’s alive?” he raised his voice, finger pointing at the woman. “How is that fucking possible? How come she doesn’t smell like one of us?” 

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, Caliban. Also, I don’t care if you don’t trust me, because I certainly don’t trust you.” 

Logan’s lips turned into a smirk. He took off his black jacket and threw it on the wooden table. He rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up. There were scars over his forearms, even old bullet wounds that didn’t properly heal. He could feel her eyes on them. 

“Come on, darlin’. I’ll take you to see Charles.” 

Y/N made a face while looking at the albino mutant. With Logan, they left the kitchen area and headed to the back door. He took her into a different section of the lot, through a crooked door. The inside of the space was dark until Logan turned on a small light. 

A movement came out of an old bed. “Who’s there?” Charles’s voice echoed around. 

“I brought you, someone,” said Logan. “Someone you know very well. It might lift your spirits.” 

Y/N had to smile when she heard Logan’s softer, calmer voice. Her hand gently brushed against his lower back when she walked closer to the old man. Her legs stopped at the edge of the bed where she saw a very old Charles Xavier with white longer hair and a stubble. 

“Professor,” her voice was a mere whisper. 

His eyes found her, eyeing her face and hair to the clothes and hands. He lost his breath for a moment. As if a ghost was standing in front of him. “Y/N?” he gasped. “Is that you?” 

She nodded, smiling. “Yeah, Professor. It’s me.” 

“How?”

Her lips opened, ready to tell him to read her mind. She immediately halted. Y/N knew his powers were not what they used to be. “My mutation saved me,” she gave him the simplest answer. “It evolved, like you taught us back at the school.” 

Professor’s eyes moved from her to the man standing in the back. “You did at least something right,” he said to Logan. “You became such a disappointment. At least this-” 

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. “Professor,” she scolded him. She never imagined these words escaping Professor’s lips. 

She turned to Logan. He had a plastic case in his hands. Then he handed two pills to Charles. “Take them, now,” he said gruffly. “Come on.”

Charles did as told, swallowing the pills and sticking out his tongue at Logan like a child. 

“We’ll let you rest,” Y/N said, smiling weakly at the old man. “I’ll see you again tomorrow.” 

“You are staying?” he asked. He received a simple nod from her and it made him smile. 

Logan brought her to a room with one bed. There were several empty bottles of liquor, cigar butts and other shit. It was spacious, smelled like alcohol, cigars and Logan. This was all he had. At least some privacy, a place to sleep. Those days of living in luxury were long gone. 

He turned on the light. It was yellow, illuminating the place enough for them to see. “You can take the bed,” he said, breaking her thoughtfulness. 

Y/N glared at them. “And where will you sleep?” 

He opened and closed his mouth. There were many options, including the damn limo. But he wished to sleep next to her like they used to before as a couple. Logan huffed. 

“You know, you look very handsome in those formal clothes,” she said. “Sexy, dare I say.” 

“Those were the days when I was,” he scoffed. “Now, I’m basically a fossil.” 

Y/N slowly took off her long jacket. She put her hand into her pocket, feeling the glass vial. Her hand let loose and draped the piece of clothing over a chair - or something that looked like it. The hat was long forgotten in the back seats of the limo. Then, she approached him, carefully resting her hands on his chest. When he didn’t move, she gently unbuttoned the white shirt for him. 

“Y/N,” he sighed her name. 

“Will you let me do this?” she asked, her voice soft and sweet. “Will you let me show you, that in my eyes you are still the handsome man I still love?” 

She helped him take off the button-up and let it fall on the dirty ground. “Fuck,” his breath hitched. “Darlin’.” 

Her hands moved up, gently stroking the skin on his neck until she reached his bearded face. “The beard suits you. Miss the mutton chops, though,” the left side of her lips curled up. 

Logan couldn’t resist. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. One, two and then his tongue asked permission to enter to which she obliged. His big hands slid down her back to her ass, taking a handful of it. “I missed you,” he admitted between the kisses. 

“Missed you too,” she nodded. When their lips disconnected, she grabbed him by the white tank top he wore and dragged it out of his pants. Y/N helped him get rid of it. She could sense the hesitation from him. 

Once it was off, her hands gently stroked his hard chest. Her fingers delicately brushed all the scars that littered his still muscular body. The regeneration was barely working. There was a day-old wound. Someone fucking shot him a day ago and the wasn’t there to protect him. Without thinking, Y/N pressed her lips on his left pectoral, right above his nipple and a scar he had there. 

“Why are you doing this?”

Her hands slipped to the belt of his pants. “To show you that I love you the way you are,” she admitted. “That I want you no matter what.” 

Logan stopped her by grabbing her wrists and pressing them back to his chest. He didn’t let her go. “I don’t deserve you.” 

“I…” she closed her eyes and pressed her ear against his beating heart. The sound soothed her. It was a sign he was here and alive. “I want to show you, that I do want you whether you are old or young. I want you to know, that even if you don’t want the antidote, I’m here with you until…” her voice broke. The thought of him dying was terrifying. 

“The antidote,” he sighed. Honestly, he forgot about it. The conversation before was short.

“It’s okay if you don’t want it…”

Logan helped her sit on the bed. Their knees touched. His big hands held her smaller ones. He remained close to her. “I need you to tell me more about it. All I know is that you have it and it has to do something with the adamantium poisoning my body.” 

“All I know is this: The antidote will stop the poisoning and stop the dying process. A friend of mine was able to make a new element that successfully fought the molecules of the adamantium. Many outcomes may happen once you take the antidote. There is only a 1% chance of side effects. Hell, even less than that.” 

“What are some of the outcomes?” he asked. 

“Either it’ll only cure you and stop the ageing and dying process. Or the regenerating factor will kick in and heal the scars and wounds littering your body,” she named a few. 

Logan shook his head. “So, no matter what, I’ll be stuck in this old body.” He winced when a wave of pain hit his body. His hand reached for the first bottle he found, drinking the alcohol like a lemonade. 

“Sexy old body,” she grinned at him. “Would it matter?” she raised her brows. “You’ll be strong again. No more pain. No more booze as painkillers.” Y/N reached for the bottle and took it away from his hands. “I’m here, with you, Logan. You don’t have to do this alone.” 

The next words he said were something he’d never imagined he would say to anyone. “I’m scared, Y/N. There is this fear inside of me that life will suck for another two hundred years. And now, here, with you, I fear that I’m gonna lose you again. It was painful the first time. I’m not gonna be able to do it again.” 

Carefully, she climbed onto his lap. He put her hands on her waist while Y/N buried her fingers into his hair. “That’s how I feel now. I feel I’m going to lose you just when I was able to get to you.” She then brushed the tired skin under his eyes with a thumb. “I don’t want to lose you, but I will if you won’t take the antidote. Fuck, I want to be so selfish and convince you to take it. However, the choice is yours.” 

Hot tears spilt from her eyes. The choked sobs made Logan clench his heart. He knew his girl would never force him even when she wanted to. She was never selfish. It was his choice. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, inhaling her sweet scent. Damn, she smelled better than he remembered. 

“I want to sleep on that,” he said. “I’m so fucking tired. I should take a shower.” 

She tilted her head and smiled suggestively at him. “How about we take it together?” she asked, voice innocent and sweet. 

“Hm, you really wanna get inside my pants,” he laughed which made him cough. 

Y/N glared at him. “You make me look like a perv,” she said. 

“Who was undressing me minutes ago?”

“Who let me and didn’t stop me at the beginning?” she asked back. 

Logan patted her ass cheeks. “Come on, darlin’. I’ll show you the hole I shower in. At least we’ll save some water.” 

They got off the bed. First, Logan walked to an old wardrobe where he took out a simple t-shirt and some boxers he rarely used. He handed them to Y/N. “Something to wear afterwards,” he said. 

Like Logan said, it was a hole where he usually showered. It was big enough for two, even three people at the same time. It had hot and cold water. He had a soap and a shower gel. Hell, he had a spare towel, a smaller one, for Y/N. 

He leaned against a washbasin when his eyes locked on Y/N’s body. He watched her like a hawk as she undressed from her all-black attire. Over a year had passed since he saw her like this - exposed to his hungry eyes. She was right there, showing him her gorgeous body. No shame, no need to cover herself up. Only a gentle smile tugged at her lips. 

Y/N called him in. She put her body under the warm stream of water. This time it was her turn to watch him undress from the pants. And, like before, he didn’t wear any underwear. Her eyes were met with his semi-hard member. 

More scars littered his thick thighs. Mostly slashes from knives. And yet, he was still beautiful. A sexy man who had her heart for a very long time. 

His lips pressed into the back of her neck once he stepped inside the shower. His strong arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her back to his chest. 

Logan’s hands caressed her body. He felt every curve, exploring her as if it was for the first time. Her body was soft and warm. When one of the hands brushed up through her navel to the left breast, he squeezed it and then moved up and wrapped it around her neck. “So pretty, all mine.” 

They couldn’t resist each other. Logan had her pressed against a cold wall in no time, slowly filling her up with his cock. He enjoyed every push, every clench. He muttered sweet nothings into her ear as she moaned his name. Slow, sexy and filled with love. No, he wasn't fucking her like in the past - hard, rough. This was lovemaking. Emotions played the main role here. 

After the shower, and a long soft make-out session, they returned to the old bed. Logan put her body over his. Like this, they could sleep on the bed until the very morning. Or at least Y/N did. 

Logan kept thinking most of the night about the person in his arms. Some higher force brought them back together. In the past, he lost everyone he loved. When Y/N came into his life, he hesitated to let her in. That woman swallowed his heart and made him feel things he never knew were possible. When he lost her again, and the rest of his X-men family, he was ready to end it all and die. Not anymore.

“Baby?” 

This was the first time Logan used this pet name since reuniting. Y/N’s eyes opened immediately, her head tilting up at Logan. Was something happening? “Everything okay?” she asked. 

Logan brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes were small, tired. But they sparkled when he looked closer. “I’ll take the antidote.”

“Really?” 

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I have you now. I have something worth living. I thought about your survival and your mutation. Shit, you can heal now, Y/N. It’s giving me hope that I’ll be able to spend many more years with you.” 

Y/N climbed up his body to press her lips onto his. It was a sweet, short peck. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want to force you or anything. This is purely your choice.” 

He grabbed her face into his hands, staring into her eyes. “I love you,” he said. “Let’s do this now.” 

“Oh, okay!”

While she went into her jacket to get the antidote and an injection, Logan sat up and cracked his fingers. His hands were shaking. A painful groan escaped his throat when he felt another wave of pain. He longed to take a bottle that called his name and drink it in one go. 

Logan’s red, tired eyes rather moved to the sweet ass of his woman. The view was nice, distracting. A smile formed behind his thick beard as he memorised it. 

Y/N got back to the bed and prepared the blue liquid. “One more thing,” she sighed. “We don’t know whether the healing process will be painful or not. I’ll be with you the entire time.” 

“I’ll manage. I’ve been through a lot of shit. It’s not gonna be painful as the damn application of adamantium into my bones. Or the feeling when I thought I lost you.” He stretched his left arm, showing her the big vein popping out. 

She took a deep breath through her nose and lowered the needle to his skin until it penetrated it. She injected the antidote into the vein and took the needle out. The tiny wound instantly closed. 

Logan’s breathing sped up. He frowned, gasped for air and grunted. He was in a lot of pain. The effect started fast. Y/N dropped the empty injection on the ground. She jumped up, grabbing Logan by his wide shoulders. “Breathe,” she told him. His body was hot, sweating. “Logan, breathe.” 

A scream erupted from his throat. His fists clenched, eyes closed shut. It was evident the pain was unbearable. The roaring brought Caliban into his room. His mutant eyes wide as he watched Logan rolling on the bed in excruciating pain. 

“What the fuck have you done to him?” he shouted at Y/N. 

She didn’t know what to do or what to say. “Wait!” she yelled at Caliban, raising a hand not to intervene. 

That’s when she noticed that every wound, every ugly scar started to disappear, leaving the skin nice and smooth. It was working. She felt some relief inside her soul. 

Logan’s chest was heaving. Grunts and snarls came out of his mouth. Luckily, the shouting was done. He was calming down. All those voices and pain turned into heavy breathing. 

“Logan?” Y/N appeared above him. She scanned his face and moved downwards his body to his rising and falling chest. 

“Holy shit,” he gasped. “Did it work?” 

Caliban appeared above him. “What the hell? How is this possible?” 

“Yes, it did,” Y/N smiled. 

Logan’s body healed. Every wound, scar or pain he felt minutes ago was gone. Even his eyes looked brighter. The redness was gone as well as the dark bags under them. 

He lifted his body from the bed and found Y/N’s face. Both hands pressed to her cheeks and then moved down her neck. “Fuck, you look so damn beautiful. I can fucking see. My vision was fucked. I had to wear reading glasses.” 

“Hey,” Caliban reminded them he was present in the room. “What have you done to him?” 

“I cured him,” she said. 

“How’s that possible?”

“I have my ways,” she replied, eyes never leaving Logan’s face. A smile played on her lips. She couldn’t stop staring into his pretty face. Well, he was handsome even before she gave him the antidote. “How do you feel?” 

Logan pressed a kiss to her lips, hugging her body as he pulled her into his lap. He was never fond of PDA, but now, he didn’t give a shit about it. If it made Caliban uncomfortable, good. At least that fucker would leave his room and give them some privacy.

The kiss ended. “I feel reborn. I don’t feel any pain. I can see clearly. Like a goddamn miracle.” Logan put her down on the bed next to him and walked to a mirror he had in the room. “Fuck!” he gasped. He stared at his reflection. 

He kept searching for the scars on his shoulders and his face. Or the one over his ribs. There was nothing. What remained was the grey-brown short hair or the thick beard. His fingers touched every part of his face, just to be sure it wasn’t an illusion.

“At least I don’t have to watch the puss on his knuckles,” Caliban commented. “By the way, it’s time to give Charles his medication. Since you are all cheerful and healthy, it’s your turn. I had a rough night,” he said grumpily. 

Logan glared at the mutant. “Fine.” 

Once Caliban was out of the room, Y/N walked to Logan. He wrapped his right arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Thank you, darlin’.” 

“Anything for you. Now, it’s time to move to the rest of my plan,” she said. “I have a safe place for us. It’s gonna be a long drive to Canada, but everything is set and ready. And by us, I also included Charles. We need to take care of him. He once welcomed us to the mutant school. It’s our turn to do the same.” 

He shook his head in disbelief. “Always the one with a plan. What about Caliban?” 

“Sorry, not included,” she said. “He did a lot of shit in his life. I can arrange some supplies for him once we leave, but that’s it.” 

“When do we leave?” 

“As soon as we can. Let’s give Charles his meds, pack everything you need and leave,” said Y/N. 

Logan took a deep breath. “Come here,” he whispered. He needed to kiss her. It was like sealing a deal with Y/N, that this was the new beginning, a new chance to have a better life. Was this finally his happy ending? 

[divinesolas]

For the night

summary: on the hunt for houses to declare for aegon the greens stumble upon house vance and its new lady of the house, gwayne seems particularly taken with her.

gwayne hightower x vance!reader

w.c: 3k

c.w: cole is an asshole, assault on reader (not gwayne), fluff, p in v, oral (fem), fingering (fem), not proofread

a.n: not my usual content but gwayne hightower you have charmed me

he was so sick of being out on the road. the mud, the dirt, the grass, the blood, everything he was sick of it all. and of course he was stuck traveling around with criston cole and the stick that seemed to be so far wedged up his ass it should be coming right out of his mouth.

it was another day of watching men bend the knees in his armor that made his skin feeling sticky with sweat and dirt and blood on his face, his hair a mess he is going to kill someone if he has to live another day like this. yet today something in particular catches his eye, the women who typically stood off to the side while the men bend the knee never normally interest him, but a particular women catch his attention instantly. staring off to the side without a care in the world as the early fall breeze hit your face.

a woman like her is far too beautiful to be standing out in this rutty old field next to these old crinkly men she deserved to be living in paintings or in a statue carved from the purest stone. He could not take his eyes off you, you must have been able to feel his eyes on you as you crane your head and lock eyes with him. your expression does not change but you do drop your head and cup your hands together in front of you when his gaze does not stray. a smile tugs at his lips he cannot fight for the first time in days.

once it is all said and done he gets stuck in a conversation with some random knight that he is less than happy to be talking to he finally manages to worm his way out of the conversation and looks around the field for you. his face twitches slighty when he sees you talking with criston cole and hastily rushes over.

Your conversation becomes clearer and clearer the closer he gets. “as i have told you before ser cole i am unmarried.” “i find that hard to believe you are the daughter of lord vance.” you merely shrug at him, “i do not know what you wish me to say, prior to your arrival i had been the youngest of six, i had four other sister ahead of me who married.my father saw no reason to marry me off. he had a son who married a nice lady and now they have all slit their throats in the castle halls, i never expected to be in charge or be married.” He had seen the incident first hand, when criston burst open the doors of the castle he did not expect to step in a pool of blood and fresh corpses laying on the ground of the majority of house vance excluding you and your father who was just beheaded for not bending the knee.

when you notice gwanye walk over your eyes trail to him for a moment which causes cole to look at gwayne before you turn away from him. “now is certainly not the time to be flirting with ladies cole” cole sighs and he turns to gwayne with his arms crossed, “as everyone else in her line is dead and she has no other living relatives she is the new lady of the house. i thought women of your, respectable age, would atleast have a suitor or two” gwayne rolls his eyes, he cannot believe cole and his disrespectfulness, if his suspensions were correct he had no clue what his sister saw in him. does he not realize he is speaking to one of the more gorgeous women in the realm?

“and i thought you white cloaks were swore to purity. it seems we are both wrong.” he watches a switch flip in coles eyes and before he can say anything cole has you by the neck and you attempt to take some gasps of air. “cole! release her!” many eyes had turned in their direction as you beat your hand on his forearm but no one dared move. gwanye finds himself pulling out his sword but doesn’t point it at cole just yet but his hand is itching to strike him down.

“you have no clue what you speak of.” cristons spits at you with venom but continue attempting to takes gasps of air. “criston that is enough!” your face contorts in confusion as you continue to try and pull yourself from his grip. “i meant was some of your men were seen in a brothel a town over last night.” Criston keeps you in his hands for awhile longer before he lets you go and takes a step back. you grasp at your neck as you take many deep breaths, gwayne puts his sword back and grabs his water skin and hands it to you. He watches as you eagerly drink the sack dry before turning to criston, “do you have no decency? strangling an innocent woman?”

cole says nothing but gwayne can tell he’s embarassed about the display and all the eyes on him. criston steps towards you and you step back into gwaynes chest to which he happily keeps you against him as cole speaks hushedly. “you will tell me the names of these men.” you look around at the white cloaks and point to a group of four of them standing around and chatting pretending like you cant feel gwaynes fingers rubbing circles around your hips. “how would i know you are telling the truth?” “my brother was a frequent customer of that particular brothel, i had gone to go pick him up and i walked in to see them, sharing a particular women in the center of the room with their cocks about but still wearing their armor.”

as much as he hates to admit it cole finds himself believing you, “we will discuss this after i am done speaking with them. then we must head out.” gwayne would rather die than go back on the road now especially with you in his hands. “cole, can we not take one night to rest? look at the men and tell me they are not exhausted? think of the morale cole.” he does not care about the teams morale but criston doesn’t need to know that, yet when he looks around it is rather obvious the team is suffering. mens feet dragging about the ground and faces devoid of life. criston turns to gwayne who simply raises his eyebrows at him, criston turns to you, “your lands shall host our men for tonight. but just tonight we leave first daylight.” gwayne grins at cristons pointed addition and feels you nod your head. “we have a couple beds though not many-” “we have tents to sleep outside.” “i will be more than happy to take a bed if he will not my lady.”

criston walks off leaving the two of you standing together when you remove yourself from him and turn to face him. “i am not a whore ser hightower.” he flinches slightly in surprise and manages to shake himself out of shock with a laugh. “i never thought you were my lady.” “your eyes and hands certainly say different ser.” He had been a little forward had he? so he bow his head to you.

“apologies my lady, let me try this again. I am gwayne hightower, pleasure to meet you.” he grabs your hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a soft kiss against the back of your hand. you hum and pull your hand away from him much to his annoyance. “likewise i suppose though i wish it was under better circumstances.” he watches as your eyes drift to the large pile of bodies that had built up, hes sure your family lies within the pile, “i would like to give you my condolences.” you snort and shake your head. “im sure you would.” he wishes he could get a read on you but you keep your walls kept up tight.

he wants to rip them down and expose you to him fully. hes never been so taken with a woman and especially with such quickness, maybe it was a fleeting lust but he was so fascinated by you he cant help but want to keep talking with you, watch your every move. yet you do not give him the chance as you begin to step away from him, “one of my men will show you and your men to your room. Good day ser hightower.”

you turn your back to him and begin to walk away. he almost wants to follow after you, to chase you down and continue to talk to you but the way you turn your head back at him to give him one final look is enough to have him knowing itll be worth the chase a smirk is unable to leave his face as he steps away and turns is back to go find cole who happens to be screaming at the men you pointed at. He’ll look for you later he’s sure of it and he’s more than sure he’ll find you.

the sun had been long set and the night cold when he sees you again. its not hard to find your room, which had been moved to the main chambers only hours after your fathers death. he finally feels refreshed after a long bath and finally out of his armor or camp clothes, being given some soft nigh clothes by the maids. he should just want to lay in bed and sleep, maybe even travel with some of the other men to the brothel nearby but he doesn’t much to the surprise of his men. He instead finds himself walking through the empty halls of the castle until he stands in front of the doors of what appears to be your chambers

He knocks before he even can think about his actions and the door cracks open after a few moments of silence. Your head pops out and your eyes narrow at him, “do you need something?” “merely wish for some company, someone to chat with.” your brow raises and he can tell you do not believe a word he says. “just to chat?” a small laugh escapes him and he smiles, “well if you are offering more who i am to deny?” you roll your eyes and the door cranes open some more but you don’t let him in, standing in the doorway you lean against the wall. “my maidenhead remains in tact ser.” he throbs, you were a minx put on this plane for testing his strength. “don’t make the offer more tempting my lady, i am a merely a gentleman.”

he takes the opportunity to get a full look at you, changed out of your day clothes and dawned in a silk nightgown in a light green, the straps are thin leaving your shoulders and collarbones bare as well as your sleeves but what it lacks up top it is long enough to hit almost your feet. Your arms crossed under your chest where almost salivates at the sight. He can see your nipples poking through the almost sheer fabric of your dress. You are so much better than any sight at any brothel and more beautiful than any eligible lady in all the seven kingdoms.

“you done looking at me yet?” his eyes shoot back up to you while he grins, “never my lady.” he watches you face flash and you stand up straight. “as fun as this back and forth is ser hightower unless you are looking to marry me i must ask you to leave.” you bow your head and go to clothes your door but his foot in the way stops you. “ser,” “what if i was interested in marrying you?” you push the door open and stare at him blankly. “do not jest ser hightower.” “gwayne please and no i do not jest.” he has never been interested in marrying much, his sister had married the fucking king and had plenty children his father cared not for if he was married or not. Gwayne enjoyed the life he lived, traveling from brothel to brothel without a care in the world but you had been the first eligible lady hes ever met that even remotely interested him.

it would not be so bad to marry, this war has shown him that everything peaceful lasted forever and maybe it would be good to settle down somewhere, with someone. he watches you watch him thoughtfully, your eyes unreadable as you watch him for any signs of deceit and lies. When he makes no moves you take a couple steps back, the doorway to your room now wide open for him to step into. “If you step past the doorway you will have to marry me ser gwayne, are you really willing to give everything up for one lay?”

you stare at him with a challenge in your eyes. you think he’ll walk away and you’ll never see him again, he’ll be nothing more than a fleeting memory of a handsome man that wanted your attention for a day and you’ll settle for whatever carefully chosen lord the greens pick for you to keep you in line and you’ll live the rest of your life plainly.

The door shuts with a quiet thud and you turn around to take a sip out of your wine glass as silence fills the room you stand in.

a hand suddenly plays with one of the thin straps of your dress and pushes it down your shoulder, the right side of your dress falls down exposing the right side of your chest as his lips dance around your shoulder and neck. you lean your head back against his chest as his hands knead at your sides. He begins sucking at the part where your neck and shoulder meet while your left strap falls exposing your chest fully but his stands stop it from fully hitting the floor.

He suddenly spins your around as you take another sip from your wine, and he shoves his lips against yours, drinking the wine from your lips and some dribbles out of your mouth. when he removes his lips they trail down and lick up all the wine that had slipped out, his hands leave your waist and your dress hits the floor softly leaving you bare in front of him.

his head spins as he stares at you you sit on the table with your legs parted. “live up to your standards?” he shakes his head as he drops to his knees, “your beauty surpasses that of the maiden herself.” He rubs his hands on your thighs as you let out a shaky breath staring at his ginger hair. he presses light kisses on your inner thighs growing closer to where your dripping for him.

he licks softly at your folds first before his tongue pushes past them and greedily lapping at your core. his hands grab at your hips to pull you closer to him as you rut your hips again his face. When he groans against your core shedding shivers up your spine your throw your head back is your hand tugs at his hair softly.

you bite your lips to silence yourself in the hopes no one hears you but when he pulls away and bites your thigh you can’t but let out a whine. “let me hear you.” you shake your head as he pushes two fingers inside of you, “what if someone hears?” “let them hear us i dont care.”

Your grip on his hair grows tighter as you feel his lips wrap around your clit and his fingers begin to push in and out of you at a steady pace. you hunch over as you grow closer and closer, he revels in the way you’ve stopped holding yourself back and lets your sounds flood his ears. he can tell you’re close with the way your grip on his hair tightens even more and the way your thighs clench so snuggly around his head.

“gwayne.” he pulls away just enough to speak to you, “its okay let go.” he licks up every drop you spend out while his fingers help guide you through your peak. he stands back up and smiles at you with his bruised glossy lips. “do you want me to do the same?” he licks his lips and shakes his head, “not today beautiful as tempting as that is.” he presses his lips against yours as his hands work as his trousers to free himself. your hands join his and make quick works to free himself from his clothes leaving him bare. he picks you up and you giggle as he smiles against your lips and drops you onto the bed.

you grip his shoulders tightly as he begins to thrust into you. mumbling words of encouragement in your ear you hiss as he enters you more and more until he’s fully inside of you. he tries his best to restrain himself knowing you need time to adjust, he feels the way your walls clench around him and the way your eyes shut tightly he cant help but groan at the sensation of it all. fuck whores and fuck brothels he thought, nothing would truly get better than this. and when he starts to thrust and the way you sing to him is better than any wine.

he helps your legs wrap around him as his thrust grow more and more aggressive, as he watches your tits bounce he cant help but lean down and wrap his mouth around your nipple as he cries out. one of his had been on your thigh moves to rub your clit and only when you release around him does he allow himself to spend his seed inside you.

when you fall asleep on his chest as he traces shape in your skin a playful smile falls on his lips as he thinks about how furious cole will be, the man had been planning to marry you off to some old man who would agree to anything they said and now cole is going to be stuck dealing with him. yet he doesn’t care because as long as he can have you it doesn’t matter.

[orikiys]

✿ ✿ 〞arguements with skz

✰ pairings :  ot8!skz x gn!reader

✰ genre : angst

✰ warnings :  heavy angst, mentions of toxic behavior in some, misunderstandings, failing to communicate

✰ word count :   2.7k + words

part 2

౨₊ৎ chan

"why are you so angry about all this?"

“you’re seriously asking me that?” his brows raised in disbelief as he spoke.

this what you two had been dealing with lately. unnecessary fights and constant bickering over anything. even today, a weekend, which chan called his ‘golden day’ , you two were yelling across the room.

“yes i am. and i’ll keep asking till you stop acting petty,” you looked him dead in the eye now. your faces were edging closer and closer to his, a defiant glare sparkling in your eyes. chan glared back, but he looked away as quickly, not being able to look at you when you two were fighting. he was used to the warm and admiring gazes, but not these sharp and angry stares. it made his stomach churn with the thought, what if you both got tired of fighting one day?

“if you’re not going to open your mouth no one will be sleeping tonight,” your voice snaps him back to reality, he silently stares at the floor with his head hung low.

“you know i hate him, don't you? i’ve told this story to you like a thousand times already and yet you still talked to him! do you think that’s fair?” he raised his voice and immediately regretted it. but there was no taking it back now. words can only be taken back in laptops or phones, not in real life.

“i just talked to him for barely even two minutes, chan! you’re being ridiculous at this point. do you think this is fair?” you cock your eyebrow at him, not hesitating to raise your voice as well since he walked down that path first.

“it doesn’t matter how long you talked, the point is you talked even after knowing our rough past. it’s almost like you don’t care about me or my feelings anymore! you’ve changed. you’ve become. . . selfish,” ouch. that had to hurt. and chan noticed the way your eyes instantly dulled. he licked his lower lip anxiously and watched as your frown deepened.

there were no further words uttered from your side which made him realise just how far he went, “babe. . . i- sorry,” the words were stuck in his throat and he could practically feel the tears building in his eyes as you took a shaky breath. he took a step closer and raised his hand to touch your face, but you avoided that and walked away.

maybe it was selfish indeed. or maybe not, he wished to not answer that as he sat on the couch and dragged a hand across his face filled with guilt. and as he stared at the hallway where you walked out, he could only hope to turn back the time and undo his mistake. but for now, he needed to wait. or fight for you.

౨₊ৎ minho

minho let out a frustrated groan when he felt the couch dip beside him. he threw a mere glance, before opening his laptop and typing something. it was unusual of him to act this frustrated and even when you tried to talk to him he glared in your way.

“i understand you’re having a bad day but it doesn’t mean that you can act however you want,” you muttered and scooted away from him before crossing your arms over your chest.

“then simply don’t understand,” he muttered nonchalantly and leaned closer to the laptop screen as he typed. this infuriated you even more.

“can you at least pretend to care? i’m not a statue sitting beside you!” his gaze shifted to you and he pressed his lips into a straight line.

“of course i will! should i even leave my job and tell my boss that my partner wanted to argue with me while i work?” sarcasm dropped all over his tone and it made you nauseous. you couldn’t believe your ears thay minho, lee minho was acting this way. he rolled his eyes and muttered a ‘thought so’ , upon seeing you go quiet and diverted his gaze back to the laptop in front of him.

“why do you have to make everything so difficult? why can’t you just talk like normal people do?” your gaze hardened and he could feel it. rolling his eyes, he switched his gaze back to you and saw you, a new you. your jaw was clenched harshly it was almost as if you were a ticking time bomb, just finding the right time and you could explode.

but minho was no less. the last thing he wanted was to submit his work after his deadline. and time was ticking as always. it doesn’t wait for him.

“the world doesn’t revolve around you! you need to know that. i have submissions to make and i can’t afford to lose my job when i’m this close to getting promoted,” with a final look he picked up his laptop and marched into your shared room. you poked your inner cheek with a tongue and wiped a lone tear that dripped on your cheek. this was going to be one hell of a night. and what hurt you even more is that he didn't even try.

౨₊ৎ changbin

changbin just unlocked the door to your shared apartment and quietly took off his shoes before slipping in the flip-flops. his heart dropped out it’s chest when he saw the date and time. it was two minutes past three. and he wasn’t surprised when the lights flicked on and there you stood, with an exhausted expression and wearing formals.

“shit. . . babe i’m so sorry-“

“you’re sorry?” your scoff definitely took him back. he stared at you nervously and felt his palms get clammy.

“if you’re sorry then you wouldn’t have forgotten our second anniversary! if you’re sorry then you wouldn’t have forgotten our booking! and if you’re really sorry then you would’ve at least called!” you yelled loudly and he could feel himself grow annoyed even though he was at fault.

“babe, i’ve had a tiring day and a bad headache. could you please not shout?” his soft tone took you by surprise but there was disappointment all over your face as he simply began to walk away.

“that’s it then? you’re just walking away like that? like a coward running away from his problems?” your throat felt dry when his head turned and his eyes met yours. his brows were furrowed in anger and he took a step towards you.

“me? a coward? if working my ass off means i’m a coward then maybe i am one. but i’m not running away from my problems. i’m simply solving them at the right times,” he muttered and gave you a tight smile.

“right time, huh? then why can’t you appear at the right times during our dates?” you replied, weakly. you were tired too. tired of his excuses, his empty promises, his apologies. they felt like nothing anymore. he had let you down too many times.

he opened his mouth to say something but closed it back again realising it could worsen the situation. with a soft sigh, he pressed his lips to your head and muttered a sorry before walking away.

maybe, the right time required you both to sit down and talk calmly.

hyunjin

“baby,” you hummed in response, making him continue, “i have a tour coming up so i’ll be gone for two months.”

the words slipped his mouth so easily as if he almost didn’t care. he came back home a week ago. out of which, he spent more than half of his time occupied at the company.

“you just came back!” the exasperation was visible in your tone and hyunjin bit his lip, feeling guilty. he cupped your face and said, “i’ll call you everyday, i promise.”

with a glare you shrugged his hands off and sat straighter to get your point clear, “if i wanted a boyfriend who can only call me why didn’t i just go for long distance?”

hyunjin’s expression changed. he ran a hand through his hair harshly, “i thought you knew what you were getting to when you started dating me.”

“yes i did! i still do. but that doesn’t change the fact that you have the upper hand in your life. which means you should be able to make some time for me?” it felt pathetic, to beg for his time. to sit there at home waiting for him. always. like the desperate being you were. and you began to even pity yourself.

“how long do i have to wait for you hyun? just how long?” and as the tears finally slipped through, hyunjin pulled you in a tight hug. he let you hit him. he let you curse him. and in the end he didn’t let you walk and slip away. but maybe, trying harder would be better. the thing that stung the most was time. time that he didn't have for you. time that he promised he would give, but never did. maybe it was time to take some right decisions for both of you.

౨₊ৎ han

you had been trying to get your boyfriend to talk to you for about 15 minutes now. it was a chore. it was exhausting. but you knew something was wrong and you weren't going to let him suffer alone.

“what’s your problem?” he snapped. annoyance written bold on his forehead as he stared at you, waiting for an answer.

“you’re too unusually quiet today,” you muttered under your breath but he managed to hear it.

it was one of those days where the two of you didn’t hold back.

“oh so now you decide whether i talk or not?” you sighed noticing him still look annoyed.

“don’t put words in my mouth jisung,” your eyes warned him, and he snapped himself out of it before covering his face with his hands.

“can you just go away for now?” he whispered and looked at you. he looked so . . . tired.

“is that a request or a warning?” your joke had no smiles, neither out of you nor him. he expectantly looked at you making you bitterly nod to yourself.

“always has to be me,” and even though it reached his ears he gave no expression, seemingly feel his head throb with thinking too much. he slammed his hands on the desk it made him feel better, maybe not much. but it did not fill the gap in his chest. and it hurt him to reach this point.

౨₊ৎ felix

“lix, i don’t think i can do this anymore,” you muttered and looked away knowing that one look at his face would have you running back in his arms. you had become that weak for him. that weak that you couldn’t resist him or his lies.

“what do you mean baby?” he looked so confused that you almost felt guilty, but then you remembered that he was just being innocent. as if he didn’t lie to you a hundred times. as if he didn’t cause you pain and misery almost everyday.

“i’m tired of you, lix. i’m also tired of us. how long are you going to make me suffer?” your tone caught him by surprise. he stared at you baffled, trying to find words to make you stop speaking like that anymore but he chose to remain quiet when he saw that look of sadness take up on your expression.

“i know we fight a lot babe but i swear i love you,” he held your hands in his hands and pressed a tender kiss while looking at you.

there it was. those words he uttered again, just like always. he would hurt you and then later on he would sweet talk you. and you had grown extremely tired of it.

shrugging his hands off you took a step back, “that’s it felix! if you try to manipulate me once more i’m breaking up with you!”

his brows furrowed in confusion. he didn’t know what you were playing at, but he wasn’t going to back off after being told those words.

“manipulate? i’m simply trying to remain calm! but looks like all my efforts are going in vain,” hurt spread all across his face as he said it. maybe you overthinking it, or maybe not. but one thing was clear, you both hurt each other in ways you didn’t know.

“you always do this! make promises you can’t keep and then talk me out of it,” and even though you stood firm with your decision, you weren’t a fool to not notice the way his shoulders slumped down, and his mouth turn downwards forming a frown.

“what more do i have to do to make you believe that i a sincere about this, about us?” he let out an exasperated sigh after pointing between the two of you.

“just be honest and love me,” and as you uttered those words, your eyes met his and you could see the way it reflected deep sorrow and perhaps guilt? you couldn’t name it.

with a dejected nod, he grabbed his wallet, bag and phone before rushing out of the house.

“i’ll be staying over at chan’s,” he muttered giving you one final look, as if telling you to stop him. but you didn’t, you just nodded and looked away.

he felt all his hopes shatter down upon that one thing, all the things he dreamt of for future could be seen crumbling down and all he could do was let out a shaky breath with his hand trembling all the while as he drove away.

౨₊ৎ seungmin

“where were you?” he practically shouted, startling you.

“i told you i was out with some friends,” you replied, trying to be the calm one.

“some friends? or a special friend?” his tone felt poisonous. it felt unfamiliar on his tongue to speak in this way but he tried not to look too fazed.

“what is that supposed to mean?” you replied pointedly, totally forgetting about remaining calm and stared at him.

“you know exactly what i mean,” his voice lowered down for a second and so did the anger in his gaze, but he held contact wanting you to know it was serious.

“i’ve called you like a million times and i was worried sick because you didn’t tell me where you went!”

“i can take care of myself, seungmin.”

“sure you can, but i don’t trust the other men,” he sighed and his eyes finally softened.

“good night,” he mumbled and walked away, leaving you standing all alone. things were getting better for worse? or for better?

౨₊ৎ jeongin

“stop shouting,’’ he said. It almost made you scoff when he was the one who started it.

“babe it wasn’t funny you know that?’’ you muttered, dejected but he just looked away not having any words to speak.

“i understand they are your friends but you can’t just go and tell them about my problems like that!’’ jeongin let out a deep sigh and looked at you.

“i thought maybe they could help in a way. they’re like my family.’’

“still. you could’ve at least asked me before telling them, you’re basically feeding off every bit of my secrets and i’m even scared to tell you anything now,’’ now that sounded ridiculous to him. you could trust him, and he wanted you to know that.

“you’re clearly overreacting. i just told them why you were feeling off,’’ he ran a hand through his hair growing frustrated that you both didn’t understand each other.

“you gave them the entire speech jeongin. don’t you dare lie to my face!’’ that was the high point. the two of you looked at each other with an abnormally furious gaze. and it made you realise just how long would it take for this to end?

“i’m not lying! Why don’t you understand me? i was just trying to make you feel better!’’

“if you wanted to make me feel better then you could’ve talked to me! and not them!’’

a minute of silence was all that was heard before you took your cue to speak, “am i dating you or am i dating them?’’ the tears came as quickly as they fell. you had grabbed your coat and bag, heading for the door. you didn't think anything else could hurt you. but you were wrong.

what hurt the most was that he didn't stop you.

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 3 - Dreams And...

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE) - PLEASE REMEMBER TO CHECK, THIS CHAPTER IS DARKER IN TONE!

PREV - NEXT

Your hands are pruned. It’s quiet in the extravagant bathroom, other than the sound of the tap’s running water and your own shaky breathing. This was all a bit much. Your hands are more than clean now, but you absolutely do not want to go back out there.

You kind of just want to go back into one of the stalls and cry. A core girlhood experience, except you were an adult with a job and taxes. Or, you were. You think you’re some rich scion or something in this dream. Which like, cool, who wants to slave under capitalism anyways?

…You wonder if anyone would notice if you slipped out the window. You’d been gone for a while and nobody had come looking for you, since you’d totally gotten lost trying to find the bathroom. Sure, you were on the third floor, but at this point you were willing to risk it. Even if you couldn’t walk in a straight line right now, much less climb the trellises. For some reason, you could not handle your liquor today like you usually could. But once again, this was all just a very vivid dream, so it wasn’t like you could die.

To punctuate that thought, you hear someone scream.

It cuts off instantly, and then there’s quiet again. You pause, then turn off the tap, listening for any more sound. Drip, drip, drip… you press the tap down again and properly turn it off. Still no noise. Immediately, you realise you are standing directly in a horror film. You live in Gotham for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t an unlikely occurrence. You’d gotten mugged just a few days ago.

And you were alone in the bathrooms. So unbelievably drunk, and alone in the bathrooms. You were actually so dead, it was crazy. A dream, a dream…!

Your head bows, staring into the white porcelain of the sink as you focus hard on your hearing. You don’t think you could hear the party before, but you’re not sure. It’s definitely not there now. You swallow the dry pain in your throat, trying to summon a modicum of courage. Your vision spins.

You slap your wet hands to your face and then blink through your fingers. God. Okay, okay, okay. You can do this. You survived a mugging just last week with only minimal bruising. To convince yourself of your badassery, you dig your fingers into the blemishes, hoping to wake yourself up with the pain. It’s a bad habit but you have lots of those.

…Where’s the pain? Oh god, where’s the pain? Wait, don’t panic, it’s a dream! Of course, you wouldn’t have your bruises in a dream. That made total sense. And you definitely weren’t panicking.

You splash more water on your face. Time to face the music, you drunken moron. If you were going to be in a horror movie, you’d be the final girl of all final girls.

One hand on the sink, you take your heels off. They’re going to get in the way, and the sound of them clicking against the marble will give away your location. Massaging your sore ankles, you try and come up with a game plan. You don’t know what’s going on, and it really could all just be a false alarm, but better safe than sorry and all that. It’s a gala full of some of the richest people on earth, and you’re pretty sure you saw a swat team of security guards at the entrance.

So this was probably a hostage situation or a villain attack. You’d hear more noise if it was a supervillain fighting a superhero downstairs. Then you’ll bet on a hostage situation for now. Depending on who had taken you all hostage, that could be a totally fine situation where you all just end up leaving with lighter purses, or it could be the Scarecrow’s shown up and he’s about to mentally traumatise you. Like you needed any more of that.

Of course, this was all probably still a dream. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll actually believe it. You’ll just plan ahead in case this is real (which it definitely isn’t). Plus you’d proven you could feel pain in this dream anyway, with all the times you’d slapped yourself. You hoped the fucking Tim Drake didn’t think you were too weird. Because he definitely thought you were weird.

It’s cool. You’re cool. You could handle this. You were a Gotham native after all. Totally cool. You have to force yourself not to gag on your own fear. Totally, absolutely, terrifically cool.

A few deep, calming breaths later, and you’re cracking the door of the lavatory open just an inch. You peer through the crevice, taking another deep breath when you don’t see anyone in the hallway. You push the door open a bit wider, peek your head around it to look the other way. Still empty. Another deep breath, you feel your chest rise and fall, and then you take the first step out onto the wooden floors. You wince at the slight noise the bare sole of your foot makes and hurry over to the long Persian rug to snuffle any more sounds.

And then you’re standing in the middle of the hallway in your ballgown, head swivelling back and forth as you try and catch any minuscule sounds, shoulders bunched up to your ears.

The first thing you need to check is the exits. Since you are on the third floor, and the banquet was on the first, you can assume that they’re well-guarded, but probably far away from you. Still, this is the Wayne Enterprises Tower, and there wasn’t just the party happening tonight. It was mostly empty as you’d seen but there’d been a few people you’d wandered past. They’d all seemed like late-night office workers, and the female janitor you’d bumped into was the one who had told you where the toilet was.

Was the janitor okay? Was that her scream you’d heard? Concentrate, dumbass. On airplanes, they tell you to put your mask on first before you do it for anyone else. The idea was the same here. Save yourself before you can hope to save anyone else.

That was… that was if you even needed saving. This could all still just be your own paranoia. Someone hit their knee on a ridiculously fancy side table or something. Like that scream wasn’t of pure terror. Like it didn’t sound like someone on death’s door.

Concentrate! Okay, check the stairs first. Don’t take the elevator, because you’re not an idiot. Maybe. Hopefully. Slowly but surely you creep your way back towards the entrance to the third level, where both the elevator and the stairs were. There was a map, too. You hadn’t been able to figure it out earlier, but you had a bit more incentive this time.

You make sure to place your feet carefully, aiming for the carpets and rugs. Even if your drunken steps miss half the time, you’re still mostly quiet. Every time you have to walk across a crossing you spend a minute listening, and then peer around every corner too. You’re not sure if you should be running, or if you really should try one of the windows.

Deep breaths. Keep moving. That’s the best course of action. Don’t get caught, but don’t just hide either.

It’s when you’re almost at the third-floor foyer when you hear something. There’s a crash, the sound of something breaking. No voices, though. Still, you can’t convince your body to move for a full minute. There’s a part of you that wants to go hide in an abandoned cubicle and wait, but there’s another part of you that is very aware of the rates of fires in this city. You keep going, taking a longer route to avoid the source of the crashing.

Another noise. A scream. Laughter. Spine-chilling laughter.

Shit, motherfucker. Why the hell did you get smashed at a fucking Wayne gala? Everybody knew the rogues of this city were totally obsessively in love with Bruce Wayne. Especially your own personal worst nightmare. You don’t dare even think his name, lest you summon the bastard.

Was he in Arkham right now? He should be. Like you should be at home in the Narrows getting a good night’s rest. Like you should be wearing dorky Flash pyjamas, not a dress more expensive than your rent.

He should be. It’s not nearly enough.

You realise, suddenly, that you have to make a choice here. You can walk away, pretend you didn’t hear anything, that you can’t hear anything. A woman’s cries, you think. You could leave her, save yourself. Hideaway and let whatever fate she’s facing befall her. Could you do that? Could you even stomach the idea?

In the end, the universe makes the decision for you.

“And who do we have here? What’s a pretty little thing like you doing wandering around?”

You hear your doom in his slimy voice, even though you didn’t hear him sneak up on you. Shaking, you raise your hands into the air, and slowly turn around. You see your doom in the twisted clown mask’s grin. For a second you think it’s really him, but then you notice his dark brown hair and the tanned skin under the mask. God, god, god. It’s a Joker goon. Your literal worst nightmare, given flesh. Is he here? No, no, no- You swallow down the urge to scream, to run, and do your best to keep thinking like a person and not a prey animal.

You feel like one. You think he knows that. You hope he doesn’t.

“Hey Travis, I found another one!” the man calls out, raising his gun to point at you. He jerks it, moving forward, and you turn back around obediently. The gun presses against the back of your head, and you move forward, obediently.

“Shithead, don’t say my name out loud!” another voice replies. You get to see its owner when you come around the corner and find the foyer.

There are five other people here, all tied up. Four seem to be exhausted office worker bees, who just stayed too late on the wrong day, and the last is the janitor who helped you. The kind lady gives you terrified eyes, but she’s the only one not crying among the hostages.

“Man, you worry too much. Like there aren’t hundreds of Travis’s in the city.”

“Just shut up, my god! If we leak info and it gets traced back to us, he’s docking our pay.”

Who’s he? Who’s fucking he?! He can’t be here, right? He fucking can’t be. You can’t, you can’t. God, you're going to vomit right here and now.

“Whatever. Anyway, this is the last person on this floor.”

“Check the feed again, dickhead,” the second one commands, obviously the leader between the two.

The one who caught you groans, and then you hear the sound of fabric shuffling. Is he looking at his phone? You wish you could turn around and look. You don’t dare with the barrel against you.

Your teeth dig into the side of your mouth. So did they have the security feeds? That meant you were doomed from the start. The only other option would’ve been to actually jump out one of the windows. They would’ve probably found you anyway. Hunted you down to meet their quota.

Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This is looking like a big deal. And everybody knew Joker never left out on his big deal jobs, he enjoyed them too much. He’s probably downstairs demanding the Batman come meet him and have tea or something. Shit.

All of a sudden these goons seem like the much better end of the deal.

“Checked, checked, double-checked, triple-checked… There’s nobody else here,” the man behind you grumbles, and the one in front of you sighs.

“Alright, alright. Bring her over, I’ll tie her up, and then we can blow this joint,” the man says, and you really, really hope he’s not being serious about blowing this place. You’d had enough of explosions, thank you very much. Especially ones organised by the Joker.

The gun digs harshly into your skull, “Well, go on.”

Swallow, swallow down your fear. Don’t let it stop you. You walk forward to the other man, arms in the air shaking. When you’re in reaching distance, the second goon roughly grabs you and shoves you to your knees. He pushes your hands in front of you, not bothering to tie them behind you. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

The rope cuts into your skin. It’s going to leave marks, and bruises. The man finishes tying the knot and then pulls you back to your feet. Then he shoves you towards the elevator and turns to start picking up the other hostages. You turn so your back is toward the wall, not willing to have your eyes off the monsters for even a second.

It’s when he’s pushing one of the office workers towards you, that the second man speaks again.

“Hey, the boss said we had to kill one of ‘em.”

What? What did he say?

“Oh yeah, oops.”

The gunshot goes off before you can process the words. Before you can process the gunshot, the janitor’s body is crumpling to the floor. Before you can process her fall, blood is starting to seep from the wound in her chest. Before you can process any of that, the man behind you laughs.

He laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs.

The janitor lies on the floor, blood seeping into her hair and uniform. You squeeze your eyes tight, tears slipping over the lids. You refuse to look at the wound. At the gaping hole in her chest. And despite yourself, you know why they shot her, not you. Not any of the workers either.

Because she wasn’t worth the cash.

Yesterday, that would’ve been you on the floor. You were a fake wearing a fancy dress, who didn’t belong here at all. Still, they didn’t know that. You didn’t think anybody knew that. Not anyone but you, who had woken up in a world a little to the left.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Trav. I wanna play with this one for a bit,” the shooter says, and all of a sudden you’re thrown back into your body, into your frail mortality. You’re cold, your spine gives a shiver, and your horrified eyes find the wretched clown mask.

Like you said, your doom. You wish you weren’t right all the time.

“No way. She’s one of the high-profilers, we need her,” his leader replies, and you’re desperate to stick by his side. You didn’t think a Joker goon would be your saviour, but here you were.

“I’ll give you five K of my split,” he offers, not willing to let go of it. Of you.

The other one pauses, glances at you assessingly. There’s a glint of something in his eyes, something that tells you you’re not making it out of here unscathed. It’s something you recognise, something you even recognise inside yourself.

It’s greed. And it’s going to kill you. You always knew it would, you just didn’t think it’d be like this.

“Make it seven,” he finally announces, the deal for your soul made without any fuss or fanfare.

“You’re such a hardass. Fine, fine, seven it is.”

“Alright, and only thirty minutes, tops. Not a hair on her head, you understand me?” he says over his shoulder, waggling a finger at his coworker.

The group leaves through the elevator. It dings, and you watch in mute, stunned horror as the other hostages refuse to meet your gaze. As they abandon you to save their own asses. You couldn’t really blame them, as much as you wanted to. You were ready to do the same earlier.

“I think not even a hair is pushing it, right?” the creep says, finger reaching out for said hair. You jerk back out of his reach, an instinctual flinch. He grins, and lets his hand fall back to his side. You take a shaky step backward.

You’re trembling with fear. With the need to get away from this terror, this situation.

He gestures with his gun, pointing back in the direction of the branching hallways.

“Well, go on. Run.”

And God help you, you do.

Spinning on your heel, you flee to the echoing sound of his laughter. Your feet fall rhythmically against the marble floors, the sound of your bare soles far too loud. You can’t even do anything about it. There’s no option for stealth here, only the sort of hunt you’d expect to find in the woods.

Not here in civilised mankind’s territory. But this was Gotham, and the monsters often looked human.

You dart into a large room filled with tiny square cubicles. A call centre or something, a maze of low walls that are too small to hide behind. You keep going, teeth-gritting when his laughter cuts off. He’s taking this seriously, hunting you down. You think he’s done this before. ‘Played’ with people.

You can’t worry about those other poor victims, lest you become his next one.

Another crash, this time to your left. Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide, but when you look there’s only a broken lamp on the floor. You have to swallow down the urge to cry. He is. He’s playing with you. He’s having fun with it.

You keep running, passing by halls and offices and don’t stop running till you can’t. Out of breath. You’re out of breath. You bend over, the stitch in your side too much for you to stand. Why are you out of breath? You can run more than this. You often run more than this when you’re late for your morning train.

What’s going on? What’s happening to you?

A bang, behind you. You spin around. Don’t see anything.

He’s nearby. Right under your nose. You need to keep running, you have to. Through your panting you hear his laughter again, and that’s enough fear to get you moving again. Maybe you were in Arkham, arms strapped to your side and screams wailing down the halls.

You didn’t believe it. No, not in this moment. Not right now, as you run for your life. If you lived through this, you’d probably go back to thinking it was all a dream or a delusion.

But with that monster nearby, there’s nothing this could be but real. With sweat dripping down your neck, smearing your makeup. With the feeling of your heart beating out of your chest, in your ears. With the blind, all-consuming panic you’re in.

He’s real. And he’s coming for you.

You lift your tied hands and press them to your lips, muffling the sound of your harsh breathing and soft sobs. Heart beating out of your ribcage, you push your body even as it screams for you to stop. You’re flagging. Vision’s swimming, and you can feel bile creeping up your throat. You can’t keep doing this. You need to keep doing this.

For a moment, you stop to catch your breath. And he catches you too.

You scream, tugging at the rough grip on him. He swings you around into a wall, and again, you cry out. Side throbbing with pain, singing with it. Still, you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not safe, not safe, not safe. You push back against him, and he pushes back against you. Your drunken state is no match, and you tumble down onto the carpet. When he laughs, you look up at him, and he down at you.

The goon’s plastic mask merges with the Joker’s mutilated face, until you can’t tell the difference.

You aren’t the type to fight back. It’s just not instinctual to you. But when you hear his belt buckle clack, your foot kicks out before you can even think. You hit him squarely in the stomach, knocking him backward, and then you scramble away from underneath him.

“You bitch!”

He grabs you by the nape of your neck, yanking you backwards. You choke, hands grasping desperately at the grip around your throat, but he offers no relent. You’ve pissed him off. That doesn’t mean you can stop, can give up. You can’t stop fighting. Can’t stop struggling. Can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop-

The gun clicks. You freeze.

“Yeah, figured you’d be more obedient if I did that. Now, get up,” his voice is breathy, from the high of the chase or the hit you delivered, you’re not sure.

You hope it’s the latter. You hope this fucker drops and dies, right on the spot. You’re not that lucky, though.

Ah, your hands are hurting again. Not just the one, but both. Maybe you touched something. An allergic reaction of some sort. It shouldn’t be distracting you, it shouldn’t even be noticeable in the situation you’re in but god. The itchy heat is nearly as unbearable as the evil cretin in front of you.

“You think you’re gonna get away with that? I’m so fucking sick and tired of you whores who think you matter anything. You don’t, and I’m going to help you realise that,” he rants. His eyes are red through the tiny slits in the mask. Angry, dangerous, on the edge.

“Please, look I’m sorry,” you stutter out, stinging hands in the air. You want to run, but you think he’ll shoot if you do.

“You’re lucky I don’t fuck corpses.”

No, that doesn’t sound very lucky at all, actually. No, this seems like maybe it might turn out to be the new worst moment of your life. You don’t think it can get much worse than this, than the next moments that will pass. And it’s too much. It’s too, too much. Your palms are itchy and there’s a gun pointed between your eyes and the goon’s licking his lips and oh my god you’re going to die from an allergy before the bullet and-

And you just want it all to stop. You want it so desperately. You want the man in front of you to disappear, to never exist again, to go right down to hell where he belongs. You just want him gone.

Your hands stop hurting. The burning heat disappears. It’s quiet again. You can’t hear him laughing, the awful slick sound of him licking his lips. You can’t feel the cool iron on your forehead, the heat from his body so close. You can’t smell his sweaty stench. Your eyes open.

…There’s no gun. There’s no man.

You crumple to the ground with a relieved sob. Fisted hands lift to your eyes, as big blubbery tears stream down your face. Your shoulders shake with your cries. Your heart is screaming in your chest, trying to beat out of it. He’s gone, somehow. You’re alive, somehow. You’re not dead with a bullet in your brain, somehow. Somehow, somehow, somehow.

An impossibility. It’s an impossibility, and you’re so goddamn grateful for it.

As always, you don’t give yourself long to cry. Even as your tears still fall, even as you lick them off your mouth, tasting salt and lipstick and fear, you push to your feet shakily. You almost fall over with your hands still tied, shouldering the wall next to you for balance. You don’t have time to cry. No time to process what just happened. You need to get to safety.

You creep back into the main area, heart pounding in your ears, breath hiccuping. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get there. Ten minutes, thirty, maybe even an hour. When you try the staircase door, it doesn’t open. You yank on the handle, grab a chair and try and smash it in, but it stands strong. Fuck. You try the elevator as a last-ditch effort, but the buttons don’t respond.

You press your overheated forehead to the cool metal. Okay. Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

You turn around and storm back into the cubicle space, find one at the edge of the room with a clear view of all the doors, and tuck yourself under the desk. Pulling your knees to your chest, you resist the urge to rock yourself like a baby.

And you sit there, and you watch, and you wait. It doesn’t matter how many hours pass, you are not moving from this spot. It doesn’t matter how heavy your lids feel, how the adrenaline leaving your body has you sagging.

You’re not going to sleep. It’s not safe, and you’re not dying today. You’re simply not.\

You’re not allowed to.

-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you snap awake. Your fist slings out at the would-be attacker, but they dodge it smoothly. When you rear up for another, they move back, hands in the air in a show of surrender. Panting, you don’t lower the fist, your vision swimming.

It’s the Joker. But the Joker wouldn’t back up, right? And the Joker isn’t red, he’s green and purple.

It takes a while for the Joker’s pale, laughing face to disappear. But when you blink and he’s gone, you find someone else underneath. A red mask, a man you think you recognise from TV. A vigilante. God, you hated the vigilantes in Gotham.

Not more than the Joker. Not more than him.

The man stays a safe distance away, gloved hands firmly in the air. He’s tall, really tall. Broad-shouldered, scary. But he’s a vigilante, right?

Is he here to save you? Someone should've by now. The bastard's late then.

He says your name, you think. You can’t hear him properly. Wait no, it’s a nickname, one you haven’t heard in years. You could barely remember your mother calling you that as she tucked you in, as she told you she loved you over the phone, as she disappeared from the world entirely.

You hadn’t let anyone call you that since.

How does he know that name? How does this bastard know your name?

“-hurt? Hey, hey. Listen to me, are you hurt anywhere?” his voice is deep and warbled through the red metal mask, his eyes peering down at you through his domino. You just stare at him, eyes wide, barely breathing.

You need to know how he knows. Unconsciously, your hand reaches up to him, and after a moment, he takes it in his own firm grip. It’s awkward, as you’re still sitting half under the desk and he’s trying to stay as far away from you as possible. Still, his hand is warm through the leather, grounding, keeping you from drifting off into panic and fear. Into your worst nightmares come to life.

Because this was real. It didn’t matter that it was impossible, it was real. You simply couldn’t deny it any longer, this was all real.

You stare at this stranger’s gloved hand like it holds the answers to the universe. It might, in the end. It really just might. It wasn’t like the universe was making much sense at the moment.

“She seems fine. Uninjured, if a bit shocked. Doesn’t seem to have a concussion. Hardly responding anyway,” Red Hood speaks, but not to you. An earbud, you think. Superheroes used wiretaps and things like that all the time, right?

If you could even consider Red Hood a superhero. Everybody knew he had his own gang. Of course, even as your very life is being saved, it’s by a morally grey hero who runs around with crowbars and guns. Ah, you’re crying again.

You told yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t let yourself cry anymore. And you’d managed it, mostly. You think you’ll give yourself a pass for today, just a little one. You hold this stranger’s hand, and you cry.

You just cry. You cry, and you hold the hand of some stranger you hate, because you have to.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 CHAMPAGNE KISSES

FEATURING: pm!dazai osamu

SUMMARY: in a desperate attempt to try to get you to drink with him, dazai offers up a secret he's never told anyone... and how could you possible refuse that? AKA the first kiss fic.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: here is the promised second fic! another light hearted one :D (warnings: fem!reader, there are some implications of reader and chuuya being taught to use their bodies as tools - as implied in canon - but nothing else really, this is light-hearted as promised)

You don’t usually drink. 

In fact, you usually stay as far away from any type of alcohol as you possibly can because the one time you did drink, you ended up passed out on the floor of the Colonel’s office with no recollection of how you got there. You blame Nakahara Chuuya because he is a bad influence and stole one of Kouyou’s bottles of wine, sneaking it up to your office to convince you to drink with him to celebrate your sixteenth birthday. The Colonel was severely unimpressed with you and you were severely embarrassed, more so when you found out that he spent half of the night cleaning up after you. 

You blame Chuuya. 

Neither of you can recall how you’d gotten separated that night, but you’re certain that it’s his fault somehow.

“Just a few glasses,” Dazai complains, a pout tugging at his lips as he drapes himself half over you and half over your couch, dangling a bottle of champagne in your face as if to tempt you. “We just ended the biggest conflict Yokohama has ever seen. I was just promoted to executive. Celebrate.”

“No,” you tell him instantly, putting your palm to his face and shoving him away from you. 

Dazai instantly lets out a string of complaints, unbalanced as he rolls off the couch and onto the ground. He scowls up at you, disgruntled and irate as he pushes himself back to his feet and throws himself right back down where he was, perhaps even more on top of you than he had been before. You sigh, he looks distinctly pleased by the withering look you give him.

“You drank with Chuuya.” Dazai instantly throws the fact in your face, as offended about it as he was the day he found out you and Chuuya got drunk for the first time without him. As if it was your fault that he was sent away on a two-week mission in Sapporo to try to draw Murasaki and her men out of Yokohama and back to their homefront. 

He didn’t speak to either of you for days.

It was the most peaceful few days of your life.

No, you’re joking, you spent a whole week doing paperwork for him as an apology, but no matter how much he tries to convince you to drink with him so he can be even with Chuuya, you deny it because you have no interest in drinking again any time soon.

“You drank with Chuuya and you won’t drink with me. You hate me,” Dazai complains, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “You want me dead.”

“Dazai,” you start, but he doesn’t even let you get out a second word.

“You can’t even deny it,” Dazai accuses, pulling off of you to glare at you. “I’m supposed to be your best friend. Not Chuuya. You’re trying to replace me with him.”

You give him a blank look right back, and distantly, you wonder how you ended up in this position, regretting that Mori ever pulled you back to Yokohama from Kyoto, desperately wishing to go back to the city just so you can escape Dazai’s dramatics. Maybe you’ll ask him now that the Dragon’s Head Conflict has ended. 

His expression shifts into one of offense, as if he can read your thoughts. 

“Take that back,” he demands.

“I didn’t say anything,” you say, appalled.

“You didn’t need to, it was all over your face. Take it back.”

You lean forward, hand lifting to his face to squish his cheeks together. He squints at you, aggrieved, but you don’t let him yank his face out of your grip.

“I am not drinking with you,” you tell him firmly, tired of this conversation, you’ve been going back and forth about it with him for almost thirty minutes. You duly ignore the way his eyes droop and the way he sticks his bottom lip out—a ridiculous expression considering you’re still squishing his cheeks. “You’re welcome to have a few drinks yourself, but I am not going to be cleaning up after you.”

You drop your hand back to your lap and relax back against the couch, raising your eyebrows when Dazai only continues to pout in your direction. At once, a glimmer of mischief flashes through his visible eye and instantly, you’re on edge, tilting your head to the side as you wait for him to speak. 

With no concept of personal space, clearly, he leans forward again, lips curling up into a suspicious smile. “What if we made a deal?” he asks, looking mighty pleased with himself when your eyes narrow onto him, interest piqued.

“What type of deal?” you ask dubiously, not entirely convinced that he has something up his sleeve that could convince you to drink again.

“If you drink with me, I’ll tell you something about me that I’d never admit sober.”

 Oh.

Dazai smiles like he’s won. 

You click your tongue sharply and then say, “Pour me a glass.”

This was a mistake. 

You don’t know where Dazai got his hands on two bottles of champagne, but you almost would’ve preferred his choice of whiskey to it. The bubbles have gone straight to your head, your entire body feels light and Dazai has become far more touchy than he usually is. It started out with subtle brushes—he moved closer to you, thigh pressed to yours as he spoke animatedly about his portion of the last mission, occasionally knocking his shoulder into yours. He’s no doubt over-exaggerating the grandeur of it all, but you find yourself smiling as he waves his hands around and describes the epic staging of his capture and how he almost died at the hands of the enemy because Chuuya ‘can’t function without Dazai there to order him around.’

You think Chuuya would punch him in the face if he heard Dazai say that, but you think you’ll let it slide this time because Dazai looks cute happy rambling on about the mission and boasting his feats. His cheeks are tinted pink from the alcohol and he’s talking so fast that you can hardly keep up.

Dazai had been weird the past two weeks. You thought he’d be excited with his promotion to executive and beating both you and Chuuya in the race to the open seat, but he’s been oddly glum. Hasn’t risen to the bait of Chuuya’s gibes, hasn’t chased you around headquarters to bother you about one thing or another; when people congratulate him for his promotion, his gaze slides past them as if they aren’t even there. You and Chuuya have been trying to figure out what’s wrong with him but every time you guys try, it’s like he knows to evade you.

This is the most ‘normal’ you’ve seen him in almost two weeks.

“What were you going to tell me?” you finally ask curiously when the conversation lulls as Dazai reaches to pour himself another glass.

He pauses, gaze cutting to the side to look at you. Your eyes narrow and for a moment, neither of you move, just staring at one another. Then Dazai pointedly continues to pour himself another glass.

Notably, not answering your question.

You scowl at him. “You are not getting out of this, Dazai Osamu,” you say, irate. If your voice is a little slurred, you ignore it. “You promised.”

Dazai makes a noise in the back of his throat—something caught between a complaint and a whimper—and you lean a little closer to him, intrigued, watching as his face steadily gets redder.

“Oh my god,” you say more to yourself than him. “You really are embarrassed. Come on, tell me, it can’t be that bad.” 

“I’m not drunk enough,” he protests, trying to physically turn his body away from you, but you shift closer to him, half leaning on his lap so you can keep your gaze trained on his face. “Stop that, get off.” 

“No,” you say instantly, delighted at the change in demeanor. “I’m drunk enough. Tell me. It’s time.”

The expression Dazai shoots at you is nothing short of withering, the look in his eyes hateful, you only give him a simpering smile in return. He pointedly turns his head away from you and mumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear. You frown as you lean in a little more.

“Speak up,” you tell him, nudging your shoulder into his and you can see him scowl, cheeks flushed, chin raised high. 

“I’ve never had my first kiss,” Dazai rushes out as if it’s his greatest shame, refusing to look at you.

You stare for a moment and then you snort.

“Did you just… laugh at me?” Dazai’s head snaps toward you, thoroughly offended.

“No,” you say immediately, forcing the smile off of your face as you look at him, but as soon as you catch the pink tint on his cheeks, your hand is flying to your mouth to muffle another giggle, this one far more obvious than the last.

Dazai looks entirely insulted. “You did. You’re laughing at me. You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasp through a wheeze. “I’m sorry, I just-you’ve got to be lying. There’s no way, I mean-”

Dazai bristles. “Stop laughing at me,” Dazai complains, burying his face in his hands, he covers his cheeks as he turns to glare at you. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised, it’s not like the slug has either.”

“Chuuya has had his first kiss, Dazai,” you say before you can think over your words and instantly Dazai’s brows are furrowing, eye squinting as he looks at you.

You think you’ve made a fatal mistake. The alcohol has made your tongue far too loose.

“How do you know that?” he asks suspiciously, staring at you intently as he waits for an answer.

Shit. You stare at him for a moment, contemplating your options because there’s no way in hell that you’re admitting to Dazai Osamu that you were Nakahara Chuuya’s first kiss. But the longer you wait, the more suspicious he’s getting, you can tell, and you have a feeling that if you do lie, he’s going to figure it out right away.

“He told me,” you finally answer and instantly, Dazai’s gaze sharpens.

Fuck.

“Liar,” he accuses, and you can see that even under the influence of four glasses of champagne, his mind still works sharply—a bit slower, maybe, because even Dazai Osamu is not immune to the effects of alcohol, though he does clearly have a ridiculously high tolerance. 

You see his thoughts whirling, racing to put together the pieces laid out before him, and you watch as he suddenly straightens in his seat, eyes wide. “Dazai-”

“No,” he breathes out, horrified. “No. No. You’re lying. You must be lying.”

“Dazai,” you say again, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“Noooooo,” Dazai complains, louder, more aggrieved. He tugs at his hair, squeezes his eyes shut. “No. No. Noooooo, I can’t accept this. Revoke it. Revoke it immediately.”

You blink. “Dazai,” you start slowly, “I can’t just revoke it. That’s-It’s not how that works, what-”

“REVOKE IT!”

“Jesus Christ. Fine. Revoked. It's been revoked.”

Dazai lets out a long breath, leaning back against the couch as he turns another flinty look onto you. “You’re so disgusting.”

“Look in a mirror,” you snap back, irritated.

“No, you look in a mirror. You’ve kissed a-” he gags as if he can hardly bring himself to say the words. “You’ve kissed a slug. You’ve kissed a slug, you’re so disgusting, I can hardly stand to look at you.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic, Dazai,” you snort, rolling your eyes at the genuine repugnance painted all over his face. But you watch as the disgust suddenly disappears, melting into a conflicted expression that you have trouble reading. “You really haven’t had your first kiss?”

You don’t really know what you expected. Well, you would have thought that Dazai would have some experience—maybe not as much as you or Chuuya, the two of you have been trained in utilizing your bodies for strategic purposes, but you would’ve thought maybe he found someone to experiment with. 

Although, you suppose you shouldn’t really be that surprised. Mori is Dazai’s mentor, and he has the boy constantly swamped with missions and operation preparations, keeping him carefully under his thumb so that no one else can taint the control he has over his precious Demon Prodigy—Dazai likely doesn’t even have the time to even think of stuff like this, much less go out of his way to experience it himself. 

Dazai doesn’t respond, pointedly turning his face away from you. 

“So what if I haven’t?” Dazai snips, regaining his cool facade, even if it did take a bit longer while under the influence of the champagne. “Maybe, I’m saving it for someone special, ever think of that?”

You coo, reaching out to pinch his cheek, and Dazai gives you a look nothing short of affronted, pulling his face away just as you feel how warm his cheeks are. 

“Tell me about your dream woman then, Dazai?” You lean your elbow against the back of the couch, resting your cheek on your palm as you look at him. “I wanna know allll about her.”

“Well-” Dazai starts, clearing his throat as he takes another sip of his drink. 

You watch as he stares ahead for a moment, waiting to see what he says—a part of you is genuinely curious, a tight feeling of anticipation in your throat that you can’t seem to push away but don’t know why.

Finally, Dazai looks at you with a crooked smirk and a victorious look in his eye that makes you realize whatever he is about to say is going to piss you off. “You would like to know, wouldn’t you? I knew you had a crush on me. I bet you just want to know if you’re my dream woman.”

“HA!” you bark out a laugh immediately at the prospect, ignoring the weird tug at your chest. “You wish, Dazai, maybe when hell freezes over.”

You miss the way Dazai’s expression falters as you try to distract yourself from the tightness pulling at you by taking another generous sip from your half-full glass.

Dazai lets out an irritable puff, pushing out his cheeks as he looks away from you, making a show of being offended by your comment. You roll your eyes at him as you turn your attention back to him.

“So you’ve both had your first kiss then,” he says, voice clipped, and before you can make a comment about it, he continues, “Whatever. It’s probably not that great anyway. It’s just pushing your lips against someone else’s. What’s so special about that? Honestly, it sounds kind of gross.”

He’s not looking at you, and you have to gnaw at your bottom lip to not snort at the blatant bitterness in his tone as he speaks. You wonder if he’s that aggrieved by the situation, or if the alcohol is just making him looser with his emotions because he’d never usually be so openly bothered by this.

“Why haven’t you kissed one of Mishima’s daughters?” you ask curiously, tucking your knees to your chest as you watch him curiously. “Those three are always hanging around trying to get our attention.”

That’s putting it gently—Mishima’s girls are your age, and whenever the Sun and Steel host an event that the Port Mafia is invited to, the three are all over you guys. Whether it’s teenage rebellion against their father, or they’re actually interested in you, you don’t really know, but they make for better company than most of the other people in attendance and have loose lips, so you tend to find the oldest sister to entertain you for the night.

Dazai hesitates for a moment, an odd expression crossing his face. He finally says, “They’re not interested in me.”

You wrinkle your nose as you look at him, leaning your head against the back of the couch. “What do you mean? The youngest is interested in anything with two legs, pretty low bar to reach,” you try to joke but Dazai seems to find no humor in it, lips curling down as he stares ahead absently.

“Not me,” Dazai says after a few seconds. “... They think I’m weird. Heard them talking about it at the last event—Noriko and Michiko.”

You pause, lowering your glass from your lips to rest your hands down in your lap as you observe him. His expression is mostly blank, but there’s a conflicted look in his eye that makes your throat feel tight. You’d always wondered if Dazai cared about what people would say about him—they’re not exactly subtle regarding how they feel about the youngest executive. They find him odd and disturbing, most people evade him as much as possible. They think he’s inhuman, closer to a demon than man. You’re sure he’s overheard a lot of it: Dazai knows anything and everything that goes on in the Port Mafia, you can’t imagine he’s blind to people’s opinions on him, but if he is aware, he’s never let it outwardly bother him. In fact, you think he’s utilized it to his advantage for the most part.  

But… you’d learned quickly once you were back in Yokohama that Dazai Osamu isn’t alone by choice. He craves interaction with people, but finds little of it because people find his presence unnerving and the few that don’t are wary of the tight leash that Mori has him on. So, you suppose you shouldn’t really be surprised that he’s more bothered than he lets on about some girls your age, who are clearly hung up on both you and Chuuya, having no interest in him because of how they perceive him.

“Well, fuck them,” you finally scoff, already plotting out a way to humiliate the two that Dazai had overheard talking shit about him at the upcoming event in a few weeks. “They’re bitches anyway. And stupid too, clearly. You’re not weird.”

Dazai looks as if he doesn’t believe you, lips tight as he lifts his glass to his lips only to find it empty. He seeks out the bottle and sighs when he notices that it too is empty. He places his glass back down on the table, but doesn’t turn to look at you.

“You don’t need to lie,” he says, keeping his voice breezy but you can see the expression on his face even if he is trying to hide it from you. “I know that I am, I-”

“You’re not,” you repeat, getting increasingly more irritated. “Don’t piss me off. Stop saying that shit.”

“It’s the truth,” Dazai says simply, folding his hands over his lap. “I don’t know why you’re getting so upset about it. Even Chuuya thinks so.”

“It’s not the truth,” you snap, “and I’m getting upset about it because you’re my best friend. I’m sick of people acting like you’re some evil incarnate for doing what we all do. And I’m sick of you letting it feed into whatever complex you have about your humanity. And for your information, Chuuya has drop-kicked people for talking poorly about you—and you better not tell him I told you that, he said he’d kill me if I did.”

Dazai doesn’t react to what you say for a second, brows furrowing and a strange expression crossing over his face at your words, as if he wasn’t sure what he expected from you but it wasn’t that. But it’s the truth. 

Chuuya has beat the shit out of people for talking badly about Dazai—no matter how much he bitches and complains that Dazai is annoying and a freak, he doesn’t let other people say the same shit when he’s around. You don’t like getting your own hands dirty like Chuuya does, but you’ve had people killed for talking badly about Dazai—you won’t admit that to anyone even if there’s a gun to your head—but all it takes is a few words about a certain subordinate stirring dissent within the ranks and the Black Lizards are on the move to take care of the inciter. 

It’s safe to say that the Mafia subordinates are careful to not voice their opinions about Dazai around the two of you anymore. 

Then, he says firmly, “I’m not your best friend.”

Your eye twitches. “What?” 

“I’m not your best friend,” he says again, speaking in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “Chuuya is your best friend. You hang out with him more than me, you go drinking with him and don’t drink with me unless I bribe you, you kiss him.”

“Why can’t you both be my best friend?” you ask, annoyed, feeling much like a child.

“That defeats the purpose of best,” Dazai says snidely. You roll your eyes at his tone. 

“Well, I only hang out with Chuuya more because you’re on missions more than both of us because you have that fancy executive title now. And I don’t go drinking with Chuuya. I drank with him once and never again.”

You pointedly don’t say anything about the last comment he made, but Dazai catches that, leveling a steady look onto you.

“You kiss Chuuya,” Dazai repeats, quieter this time. “You don’t kiss me.”

“I would kiss you,” you tell him, voice a little more hesitant than you intend for it to be. Nervous, even. 

This is different from when you kiss Chuuya—from when you do anything with Chuuya. Kouyou directed the two of you to each other a few weeks ago toward the end of the conflict, saying that if you ever plan to bring any of the tactics taught by your mentors about utilizing your bodies for strategic purposes to the field, it’s best for the two of you to practice with one another as training. 

It was work. 

It was training. 

It wasn’t whatever this is about to be.

Your heartbeat feels erratic in your chest as you stare at him, he hasn’t reacted to your words, staring at you as if trying to figure out if you’re being serious or if you’re setting him up to make a fool out of himself.

“… I would not mind if hime was my first kiss.”

You let out a flustered noise in the back of your throat at the sudden use of the title you’ve grown to loathe over the past two years, dubbed by none other than Mori himself. Usually, Dazai only uses it whenever he’s trying to goad you into an argument, knowing how much you hate it, but there’s something different about it this time—something that has your cheeks heating up. His voice is softer, breath a bit hitched as he speaks, as if he’s just as nervous as you are but is trying to hide it.

“I thought you were saving it for someone special,” you say quietly, looking at Dazai carefully.

Dazai finally turns his head to look at you, expression subdued. “... Hime is special to me.”

Your breath catches at the admission, wondering if he’s trying to say you’re special because you’re his closest friend or if he’s trying to hint at something more, but Dazai’s expression doesn’t betray any of his thoughts and he doesn't seem inclined to expand on his painfully cryptic comment. 

Nor do you have the courage to ask.

You take in a quick breath, gathering your nerves before Dazai takes your prolonged silence as rejection and flees. You shift closer to him, watching as he takes in a sharp, quiet puff of air, staring at you carefully. His fingers are stiff in his lap, twitching as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. You lift your own hands to cup his cheeks between them.

His bandages are rough against the pads of the fingers on your left hand, and absently, you think that you should maybe stock up on a softer brand, because you’re sure they must be irritating his skin. His skin is smooth in contrast as the fingers of your other hand brush along his cheekbone, you watch as he lets out a shaky breath, visible eye wide as it traces your face. He instinctively leans into your touch and for a moment, you can’t help but wonder when the last time someone has touched him gently. Even Chuuya didn’t have such a reflexive reaction to your touch.

You don’t kiss him for a second, gaze lingering on his face, searching his eye to make sure that he’s ready. His tongue darts out to nervously wet his lips, cheeks tinted pink, fingers still unsteady in his lap as he waits. It’s cute, you think—and it might be the first and last time you’ll ever see Dazai Osamu so plainly flustered over something, so you want to savor it as best you can.

Once you’re satisfied, you lean in to press your lips against his. His lips are chapped and taste like the champagne the two of you have been drinking and faintly like the cigarette he’d been smoking on the walk back to your apartment. Not the most pleasant taste, but for some reason, you can’t seem to get enough of it. 

As far as kisses go, it's definitely a bit awkward, but still, it’s nicer than kissing Chuuya. You tell yourself it’s because kissing Chuuya is like any other job or mission, but a part of you wonders if it might be more than that.

You disregard that thought instantly. 

You keep the kiss soft and chaste, lips moving only subtly against his own. Dazai doesn’t kiss you back—you can feel his lips trembling and you try to relax him by smoothing your thumb over his cheekbone, but it only seems to make him even more nervous from how his breath hitches against your lips.

You can’t help the smile that tugs to the corner of your lips and he can obviously feel it, so he pulls back and asks, “Are you about to laugh at me again?” His voice is edged with a whine, lips turned down and expression sullen.

You don’t respond, instead, you lean in to press another quick kiss against his lips, letting out a puff of amusement when he lets out a surprised noise but swiftly melts into it.

Then you press another, and another after that, and again, until you can feel his own lips curving up against yours. You don’t know how long the two of you sit there, sharing short, chaste kisses and giggles until you can hardly remember how the two of you ended up there. You blame the dizziness you feel and the way your heart flutters in your chest on the alcohol.

When you finally pull away, Dazai’s face is flushed. He tries to hide the way his fingers are shaking by sneaking his hands beneath his thighs to sit on them, attempting to save some face by raising his chin and giving you an arrogant look.

“I knew you had a crush on me.”

“Ugh! I do not, you’re so gross, Dazai.”

But even as you speak the words out loud, you know that it’s a shameless lie.