#as the movie went on i just got angrier and angrier

[exy101]

rwrb (2023) takes the cake for worst adaptation ive ever seen truly what the fuck was that

[benkeibear]

『 Count for me 』

☼ synopsis: Sanemi's training session went horrible and the way you crumbled cookies all over his fresh bedsheets made him lose it, taking his bad mood out of you and spanking you.

☼ character: Sanemi Shinazugawa

☼ wc: 1.1k

☼ cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, a little fear play, spanking, one light slap to the face, oral (reader giving), face fucking, squirting, clit slapping, mean / feral Sanemi taking out his frustrations

Sanemi hated how you have to eat in bed, especially when it crumbled and he just put fresh sheets on. You completely disregarded any concerns when you got out of the shower and cuddled under the sheets with some cookies and a good movie - that was until you heard the keys turn in the door, the package of cookies flying up from the small shock and spreading the baked goods along with their crumbs all over the clean sheets.

Knowing your lover will be anything but happy, you tried to collect most of it until his steps reached the bedroom door, the gentle smile he wore on his face slowly fading as if he witnessed a crime scene. In a last effort you wiped the crumbs onto the floor but they landed on the carpet in front of his side and you swore you saw a vein pop at his temple as he simply watched you.

“You have exactly 5 seconds to run,” he grumbled, which made you realize that his training session didn't go well, so he was already loaded with anger.

Frozen in your fight or flight reaction the image of Sanemi taking his anger out on you flashed before your eyes, the way you only dirtied the sheets more with your juices, the way his rough hands spanked you until sitting hurt for the next few days but you whimpered for one more, one more slap to get you over the edge.

Pupils dilated from lust, you crumbled a cookie in your hand, seeing him getting angrier.

“You fucking- that's it!” he snapped, taking long strides towards you before forcing you to lay over his lap, you pajama shorts easily pulled down your legs which made you kick and whimper in his harsh grip.

His exterior cracked for a moment, concerned eyes meeting yours but the smallest nod from you was all the consent he needed, large hand rubbing the globes of your ass.

“You will count. Ten on each side,” He ordered sternly and his hand connected with one of your butt cheeks in a harsh slap.

“One,” you squealed out, the sting slowly traveling through your behind and into your body. Slap.

“Two,” Slap…

“If you miss one, I will start over,” he warned and you nodded as his hand rose anew, ready to connect with your supple flesh once more.

“THREE,” you yelped before his hand came down again, whining at the impact.

He just loved being able to take his anger out on you like this, being rough hand manhandling you all while pleasing you. Although it did make him wonder how this could possibly turn you on - but he preferred not to question it, his hand coming down to the globes of your ass repeatedly.

Your face was stained with tears at the end of the promised 20 hits and Sanemi gently wiped them away with his thumb

“You know i had to, princess…” he said sympathetic and gently spread your cheeks, getting a good look at your folds that were glistening with arousal.

“Such a naughty girl… getting wet from being punished,” he mused, his thumb plunging into your entrance, making your walls flutter around the thick digit, head nodding eager. This was what you needed, your neglected cunt screaming for your lover to be taken care of.

Without further hesitation Sanemi lifted you off of him to manhandle you onto all fours, facing him as he stood in front of the bed, slowly pulling the hem of his sweats down.

Your lover's cock slapped against his defined abs once it was freed, his menacing glare fixed on your pathetic face, begging to be fucked until you're nothing but a crying mess - his crying mess.

His hand connected to your face in yet another slap, much more gentle than the blows delivered to your rear.

“Don't just stare. Suck!” He ordered, every word laced with venom. You weren't fast enough for his liking so he took matters into his own hands, grabbing a fist full of your hair and forcing you to take him whole despite the resistance your throat put up.

Mercifully he waited until the gagging ceased, wishing his cock would choke you longer so he could hear your pathetic lungs begging for air, but your throat chose cock over oxygen since you remained still even when his hand removed itself.

Big doe eyes looked up at him until fat streaks of tears rolled over your cheeks - only then he took ahold of your head again so he can properly fuck your face. Heavy balls slapped against your chin, saliva coating the lower half of your face, slowly dripping onto the sheets beneath but he didn't care anymore, pulling out when he had his fill of your warm mouth.

“Turn around,” he growled an order and you immediately obeyed, your pathetic face pushed into the mattress when he thrusted into your sopping cunt with just one thrust, the oxygen leaving your lungs once more with each jolt of your body when he thrusted against your hips.

The sounds echoing off the walls were obscene, moans mixed with grunts, accompanied by the wet slaps of skin as he ruined you. Another slap on your ass left you clenching around his thick cock, a predatory grin spreading on his face when he reached around to rub your sensitive clit.

Your entire body was shaking at the intensity of your orgasm, clear liquid spraying onto the sheets, messing them up even more as the Hashira tapped your clit with small slaps, dragging out your orgasm until you collapsed.

Seeing you this helpless beneath him was what he needed, pulling out of your tight heat with a grunt, his hot seed spurting all over your back as he palmed himself above your miserable frame, legs still shaking. He held his weight up above you, still standing in front of the bed but his upper body was slumped over you. “Go clean yourself. You're so fucking dirty,” he mumbled and kissed the back of your neck, making you giggle slightly

“And I'll take care of the mess you made,” he added, the sheets ruined with your juices and the crumbs.

All he got in response was a low groan from you

“Can we take a bath together? Getting clean together and all,” you asked softly, unsure if you're even able to walk yourself to the bathroom since your legs felt like jelly. Sanemi only sighed before scooping you up into his arms

“You can be lucky that I love you,” he grumbled before kissing your forehead. Making a mess could be so relieving, especially if it's his loving girlfriend he can ruin.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[holylulusworld]

A different kind of Valentine

Summary: Your fiancé breaks your heart on Valentine’s Day out of all days.

Pairing: former!(any male character) x fem!Reader, Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, break-up, mentions/implied cheating, making out with a stranger, language, drinking, tipsy reader, a little fluff

Promises shouldn’t be broken.

Promises are meant to be kept. Right?

Love should be strong and unbreakable. If you swear to someone that you love and adore them, you cannot take it back so easily.

How could your fiancé take the words he whispered lovingly not months ago back?

“I can’t do this anymore,” he replied coolly when you asked why his suitcases were standing in the hallways. You believed he must go on yet another business trip.

That he wants to leave you never crossed your mind.

How foolish of you to believe that he wants to stay and keep his promises.

Shell-shocked you watched him grab your hand to slide his grandmother’s ring off of your finger.

You couldn’t think, speak, or even whimper. All you saw was the man you loved turn his back on you.

He stuffed the ring into his pocket, murmuring someone else’s name under his breath. You knew the name. Once in a while, he mentioned his assistant.

Of course, he had to turn your breakup into a cliché. He had to bang his secretary and leave you for a younger model.

If not for the tears running down your face, and the heaviness in your heart, you’d laugh at the fucked-up situation. It felt like you ended up in a bad rom-com slash comedy movie. The only difference was people weren’t laughing at the bad joke your life turned into.

“You can’t be serious,” oh, you finally found your voice. “Why are you doing this? Did you get bored? Is it the wedding? We could��ve talked things out.”

“That’s not it.” He grunted in your direction.

“Is she prettier? Better in bed,” you got angrier and louder. “Does she like it up her ass? Is it that?” You threw the next best things at him, making a scene. “What is it? Huh? Is her cunt squeezing you tighter?”

“You’re just not it!” He bit back and threw his hands up in surrender. “Can you not do this right now? How about you don’t throw a tantrum? People break up all the time!”

“Five years and that’s all I get?” You yelled. “I deserve better than a lame excuse! I want to know what happened to us!”

“I love her because I don’t love you anymore!” He yelled back, making you flinch at his outburst. “It’s not only that the sex is better. She’s all I ever wanted in a woman. You got too comfortable and want to cuddle on the sofa instead of going out and blowing me off behind a bar.”

“What?” You huffed. “I was the one trying to drag you off the couch! You only ever went out with your buddies.” He ignored your tears, and that your voice cracked. “I guess this never mattered. You had to fulfill the cliché. So, go ahead. We will see if she can make you happy.”

You stormed toward the door, blindly grabbing your keys and phone. It was impossible to stand there, staring at the gifts you placed on the coffee table in the living room.

“If you are still here when I come back, I’ll stab you right in the face,” you looked over your shoulder at the man who used to be your moon and stars. “If you touch my shit, you are a dead man. I will find you and your whore and turn you into dog food.”

“Another one,” you slammed the glass down onto the bar counter. “Make it a double.” You placed fifty bucks onto the empty glass. “No, give me the bottle. I think I’ll drink it at home.”

“We don’t sell the bottle for you to take it home,” the bartender gruffly replied.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You glared at the burly guy. “I can drink the whole bottle at the bar, but I can’t pay for it and take it home?” Quirking a brow, you look at the man.

“House rules.”

“Fuck this,” you grabbed the fifty bucks and stuffed the money into your bra. “I’ll get more at the next liquor store. Fuck you, and all of you.”

“All of us?” The bartender asked with amusement.

You glared at him and bared your teeth.

“Assholes with a ding-dong between their legs. You are all the same. Useless and worthless…”

Storming out of the bar, you huffed again. “Fuck Valentine’s Day.” You muttered and walked away, almost running a guy over.

“Hey, watch your step, doll,” the guy snickered when you threw your clutch at him. “Ouch, what do you think you are doing?” The man caught your clutch just in time.

“Fuck you too!” You poked two fingers into his chest. “You are no better than the bartender and my lovely fiancé. All of you are useless and have a limp dick. No man is worth my time.”

You snatched the clutch out of the man’s hands. “Language, lady,” he said, his voice now dangerously low. “If you don’t watch your tongue, someone might teach you some manners.”

“Oh, and you are that kind of man,” you slapped him across the face with your clutch. “Who do you think you are?” Usually, you wouldn’t attack a stranger in the dead of the night, but you were a little tipsy, and still mad because of the events of the day. “Threatening a woman.”

“Sweet cheeks,” he said while rubbing his face. It was still red from the slap, and he considered his next step. “I wouldn’t dare to raise my hand against you.” The man stepped closer to grab your clutch. “I said—” He grabbed you by your throat and slammed you against the wall, “I’ll teach you a lesson.”

“I’ll scream,” your heart began to race. Maybe you messed with the wrong guy. “Get off me.”

“Yeah, you will scream,” he smirked darkly and leaned closer to whisper in your ear. “I’ll make you scream my name, doll. So, what will it be? Do you want me to make you scream, or do you want me to make you whimper my name?”

“That’s not a choice!” You complained. “I have had enough of selfish men believing they can toy with me and my heart. I’ll cut yours out if you dare to touch me.”

“A cocky one,” he dropped his hand from your throat and pressed his hand against the wall, right next to your head. “Tell me, doll. Who hurt such a sweet girl?” He looked you up and down, hungrily roaming your body with his eyes.

“He—” You looked away and blinked a few times. “You’re not my therapist, and I’m not your problem.”

“You made it my problem when you attacked me because a douchebag hurt you. So, again. Who hurt you, doll?”

God, he smelled so good, and his lips tenderly pressed against your earlobe. You didn’t know what got into you, but you grasped for the stranger, taking him by supposed when you pressed your lips to his.

His hands grabbed your face, gently cradling it while he allowed you to dominate the kiss. “Doll,” he murmured against your lips. “You’re a little drunk, huh?”

“Make me forget about him,” you pleaded and fisted his jacket. “Here and now. Come on. Don’t be all talk.”

“I’d love to make you scream my name.” He pecked your lips twice. “I love me a crazy girl hitting me at first sight, but I won’t take advantage of you. You’re hurt, drunk, and a little lost. Let me take you home.”

“I don’t even know your name,” you gasped and stepped back. “I just kissed a stranger and asked him to fuck me. What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you, doll,” his features softened. “It’s alright. I’m a nice guy.” He smirked and laughed as you stepped back again. “My name is Bucky, okay. I’ll take you home if you want me to. Or I could call a cab for you.”

“Y/N,” you murmured your name, embarrassed about your actions. “Sorry. I didn’t want to attack you…or kiss you…or ask you to fuck me.”

“Y/N,” Bucky hummed. “A very nice name.” He said. “For an even nicer woman.” Holding out his hand, Bucky waited for you to take it. “I won’t bite, promised.”

“Maybe I like it when you bite me,” you challenged him.

“Let’s stick to getting the alcohol out of your system,” Bucky wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you didn’t take his hand. “Doll, you shouldn’t stay here. We started on the wrong foot, but I’m not a bad guy.”

“What the shit!” You exclaimed loudly while you looked around your apartment. “That bastard had the guts to unpack the gifts I got him before leaving our home to bang that bitch.”

“Hmm…that him?” Bucky lifted one of your picture frames. “He looks like a douchebag. I was right.”

“Why did you come with me again?” You glanced over your shoulder at the stranger in your home. “I’m good. Really.”

“I won’t leave a pretty dame in need alone on Valentine’s Day,” Bucky said. “Not after that man left you for some other woman.”

“I’m fine,” you lied. “Just…mad.” You shrugged. “I had the whole day planned; you know. Dinner at our favorite restaurant, the perfect gift, and naughty underwear to…” You shook your head.

“His loss,” Bucky shrugged while looking at one of the gift bags on the table. “It should’ve been him making big plans for Valentine’s Day. If you love your lady, you spoil her.”

“He found someone prettier and sexier,” you sniffled. “He told me so. The man I loved fell in love with his secretary because he doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Again, his loss,” he stepped closer to look inside the gift bag, taking the lingerie out. “Red lace, huh?”

“He liked red…” You snatched the underwear out of Bucky’s hands. “I wanted to turn him on. It’s been a while since he was interested in doing more than sleep in our bedroom.”

“I’d say white suits you more,” Bucky threw the lingerie over his shoulder. “How about you change into your favorite outfit, and I invite you for dinner. No strings attached, doll.”

“You want to take me out?” You questioned.

“Please let me take you out,” he stepped closer to grab your hand. “You deserve to spend this day with someone who cares.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Yet,” he said. “Let me get to know you, please.”

You nodded and agreed to go out for dinner with Bucky. It was a risk, but one you were willing to take.

Valentine reloaded

Tags in reblog.

[afterglowsainz]

the prophecy | max verstappen

summary: you and max can never agree on the same topic of conversation and it might be the thing that breaks you up

warnings: angst, some yelling

word count: 805

you love max. you really do. but you hate when he brings up the same topic of conversation that you'll never agree on.

“i’m not moving to monaco.” you say for the million time.

“i’m just saying it would be way easier for us.” he answers unbothered while eating his dinner.

you avoid rolling your eyes at his comment and just decide to ignore him. since you got together, distance has been a complicated issue for you both. with max flying almost the whole year for races and then going home to monaco and you working and living in new york, the two of you only saw each other during breaks and when you could occasionally fly to see him race.

and yes, maybe it would make it easier if one of you just moved, but why did it have to be you? living in new york has been your dream since you were a kid and saw it in the movies, and now that you finally got a job that you enjoy in the city of your dreams, are you really gonna leave it? hell no.

“why don’t you think about it?” he insists.

you drop the fork you were holding on the plate creating an exaggerated noise.

“would you do it for me?” you ask, exhausted. “would you move to new york for me?” he shakes his head and went back to his dinner.

“is not the same.” he says. 

“why don’t you move to new york?” you ask instead. this caught his attention and he finally moved his eyes from the food to you. “what is it to you anyway? you’re traveling the whole time, i on the other hand, actually work here.”

“you can get a job in monaco.” he replies like he always did when the topic came up.

“i don’t want a different job!” you raise your voice. “and i don’t want to move to monaco.” he didn’t said anything, fearing that whatever came out of his mouth would disturb you more than you already were. “if you wouldn’t do it for me, why would i do it for you?”

you regret it the moment you said it, but it was too late now, it was out there. you could recognize the pain in max’s face from miles away and you felt a little guilty that you were relieved when you said it so you didn’t have to hide your thoughts on the topic anymore.

“because that is what people in relationships do, y/n.” he answers, his tone rather harsh. “you sacrifice things for each other.”

“why do i have to be the one to sacrifice things?” you couldn’t stop now that it was out there.

“why are you being so immature about this?” he exhales, a tired expression on his face which only made you angrier.

“i’m not acting “immature” about this.” you attack. “you just ask me to give up my whole life to go live in a complete different continent for you and i said no, period.”

“so what are we supposed to do, y/n?” he raise his voice at you also. “what are we doing here? playing around?” you frown, nodding your head in disbelief. “i love you too much but this long distance thing is killing me.” he admits.

to be fair, you weren’t the biggest fan of long distance either, but there was no other choice. it was either that or broke up, and you definitely didn’t want to break up.

“look, i know it is not perfect but what else can we do?” you ask, even though the answer was right there, it was obvious that neither of you was going to give in.

“this cannot be the thing that breaks us up.” he whispers but you heard him.

“of course we’re not gonna break up, max.” you say. “that seems extreme.” a grimace of sadness appeared on your face.

“well, i’m not sure what else…” he didn’t continue. “i’m not moving to new york.” he says with a serious tone. “and it seems like you’re not moving to monaco. and none of us wants to do long distance.” you kept quiet, trying to wrap your mind around what he was implying, praying that your conclusions were wrong.

“so?” you ask somewhat fearfully.

“so… i don’t know.”

“you want to end things?” you question straightforwardly, not wanting to wander anymore where his mind was.

“i don’t.” he answers. “but can we continue how we are?” his face was of true despair. 

“is it really this serious?” your voice was seconds away from breaking but you didn’t want to look shattered in front of him.

“you tell me.” he says with a lump on his throat.

you couldn’t help but wonder if this was always how it was going to end.

[meangirls-imagines]

Best Friends?

Description: Leighton and Reader have been best friends since forever and both fall in love with each other. Tension rises when Leighton gets back with Alicia and Reader finally reaches the breaking point.

WARNINGS: ANGST like a mf.

leighton didn't know what to do.

her best friend was ignoring her. y/n hadn't talked to her in three days. and leighton was absolutely clueless. 

she had tried to reach out to y/n's roommates to figure out why she wasn't talking to her but none of them could tell her either. the blonde was picking her brain for everything she might have forgotten. 

birthday? nope.

friendiversary? nope.

she couldn't think of anything. she had even talked to alicia about it and her girlfriend just shook it off to y/n going through something. alicia reassured her that she would be fine and offered to take her girlfriend out for the weekend to cheer her up. as much as leighton didn't wanna leave, maybe this is what she needed. so, her and alicia packed a couple of bags and drove to new york for the weekend.

back at essex, y/n was in the weight room. it was well past midnight but y/n's thoughts were racing. she kept curling the barbell in her hand. 

all she could think about was leighton. 

how she smiled when y/n made a bad joke. 

how she cuddled up to y/n when it was their weekly movie night.

how she always gave y/n the first cookies when they baked together.

y/n usually wouldn't be thinking this hard about the blonde but something made her feelings go all over the place. 

or, more like someone.

alicia.

it wasn't that y/n didn't like alicia. it's more like alicia didn't like y/n. the girl didn't like y/n the first time her and leighton dated and she doesn't like her even more now that they are out. she never shows her disdain for y/n around leighton though. she doesn't want the blonde to know. 

y/n began to run on the treadmill when a text came through on her airpods.

from bestest friend in the whole world: hey, we haven't talked in a minute. i just wanna check in on you. you're worrying me. alicia took me to new york so if i don't hear from you by the time i come back, i'm hunting you down.

from bestest friend in the whole world: i just saw your location...why are you at the gym this late? you only do this when you're really going through something.

from bestest friend in the whole world: do you wanna facetime and talk? alicia is asleep but we can stay quiet.

y/n got tired of the messages and turned her phone off. 

so much for a peaceful workout.

that became y/n's routine for the weekend. sleep most of the day, workout most of the night.

she received multiple texts and calls from leighton but they all went ignored. luckily for y/n, when monday came around, leighton couldn't come kill her due to her being busy. she managed to hold out until thursday, a whole week since she had talked to the blonde last. 

leighton was a storm that was just waiting to unleash her power. y/n still hadn't talked to her and of it wasn't for alicia taking her on a date every night this week, y/n would've already faced the wrath. 

y/n was in her dorm watching youtube, doing her homework when there was a loud knock on the door. groaning, she got up and out of her room, fully expecting one of her roommates to be on the other side.

boy, was she wrong.

leighton stood on the other side, angrier than y/n had ever seen her. the girl gulped audibly as the blonde pushed her way into the room. "oh, sure, invite yourself in why don't you?" the blonde turned her death glare back to y/n. "yeah, it's the least i can do after my best friend practically ghosted me for no reason for a week!" 

y/n rolled her eyes and went to go back to her room when leighton stopped her. "what is wrong with you this week? you haven't talked to me, you've actively avoided me, and whitney told me that you seemed tired in practice all week. care to explain yourself?" y/n sighed. "no, i don't care to explain myself leighton. wasn't aware you had gone low enough to get your roommate to spy on me."

leighton scoffed. "can you blame me? now, i'm calling for a mandatory sleepover so i can pick that brain of yours and figure out what's going on." y/n shook her head. "don't you have a girlfriend to attend to?" leighton looked at y/n confused. "no, she's at the center tonight doing slam poetry. why would i have to attend to her?" 

y/n shrugged. "i don't know, just seems like you guys are attached to the hip and she refuses to let you do anything on your own." leighton's jaw dropped at y/n's words. did y/n always feel this way? had leighton been a bad friend?

"what do you mean? are you jealous of our relationship? i told you i could hook you up with someone, y/n. why didn't you tell me?" y/n avoided the question. "leighton, i have a ton of homework to do. go back to your dorm." leighton shook her head. "no, we need to talk this out. are you jealous of me and alicia?" after a few minutes of back and forth, y/n finally snapped.

"you know what leighton? yeah, i am jealous. i'm jealous that alicia is the one who gets to hold your hand in public. i'm jealous that alicia gets to take you on dates. i'm jealous that she gets that smile of yours that you used to only reserve for me." leighton stood shocked but y/n kept going.

"i'm jealous she gets to kiss you and sweep you off your feet and treat you like the princess you are. but most of all, i'm jealous that she had the courage to ask you out before i did." y/n had tears streaming down her face, as did leighton. the blonde's voice cracked as she tried to walk towards y/n. "y/n..i-i had no idea. i-" 

y/n held her hand up. "just go leighton. i can't do this right now." and with that, she turned, walking into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her, leaving a crying leighton in the common room.

the blonde grabbed her purse and went back to her dorm.

both girls cried themselves to sleep that night. y/n because she thought she ruined her friendship with leighton. 

leighton because she finally realized she was in love with y/n.

[azzibuckets]

do some based off of the paige and azzi show overtime videos. like a story of paige being a better driver or azzi being scared of the dark. idk just like one of those overtime vids

that’s how petty she is [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: love this idea!! probably gonna turn this into a fluffy series/collection of oneshots with each overtime episode being a different blurb lol

word count: 700

masterlist

“You then went and unliked all of them [my Instagram posts]. That’s how petty she is.”

“Who would take the time to do that?”

“You.”

••••••••

“Paige.”

Silence.

Azzi rapped the door harder. “Paige, this isn’t funny! Open the damn door.”

“No!” Paige’s voice was muffled, her face buried into her blankets as she sulked like a child. “Not until you apologize.”

Azzi tried the handle again, shaking it violently before giving up with a sigh. “You’re being incredibly immature right now.”

The door slowly swung open to reveal a glowering Paige, her lips twisted into a half scowl half frown. Azzi bit back a smile, knowing that laughing would make her girlfriend even angrier. But she couldn’t help but be amused at the sight of Paige trying to look all angry at Azzi when she was literally enveloped in Azzi’s oversized sweater, the sleeves hanging off her hands.

Azzi followed the older girl as she flopped on the bed and resumed using her phone. “Come on, babe. Don’t be mad.” She tried to rub Paige’s back soothingly, but the blonde only dramatically turned away with a scowl still embedded on her face as she tapped away on her phone.

“Why are you looking at?” Azzi asked, growing increasingly frustrated yet curious at what could be so possibly interesting to captivate her girlfriend’s entire attention at the moment. When Paige only continued giving her the silent treatment, Azzi scooted closer and hovered over her shoulder. Her mouth dropped in disbelief as Paige’s fingers flurried across her screen that was opened up to Azzi’s Instagram profile, removing a like from each post.

“There’s no fucking way right now.” In an instant, Paige’s phone was in her hand.

“Hey! Give that back!” Paige whined, reaching for the phone.

“Unliking all my posts? Seriously, Paige? Are you five?”

Paige squinted at Azzi.

“All because I said Steph was my favorite basketball player?” Azzi scrolled through her posts, eyebrows furrowing further and further down in surprise at how Paige had managed to remove a heart from almost one hundred posts within a mere two minutes.

“Exactly.” Paige’s hands were on her hips now, a perfect pose of sassiness that made Azzi pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “I’m your favorite basketball player. I thought we established this?”

“The interviewer was looking for a serious answer,” Azzi huffed.

“I don’t care,” Paige said. “I always say you’re my favorite. I expect due diligence from my best friend.”

“Girlfriend,” Azzi corrected.

Paige only smirked.

“You’re so infuriating, you know that?” Azzi muttered, tossing Paige’s phone on the bed before settling her hands around the curve of the older girl’s waist.

“If I’m not your favorite player,” Paige said, batting her eyelashes innocently, “there’s no reason I should be liking all your posts. I’m not your fan.”

“And have I mentioned how petty you are?”

Paige’s bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “You’re calling me a lot of names right now for someone who just committed an unforgivable act of betrayal.”

“Okay, fine.” Azzi relented, knowing Paige’s stubbornness would keep them in circles. “You are my favorite basketball player. Of all time. Pro or college. Men or women’s. Got it?”

“Say that again?” Paige tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I didn’t hear it the first time.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Paige grabbed Azzi’s hands, tangling their fingers together and pulling her into bed with her. “Maybe your treason won’t be so unforgivable if you promise to watch all the Shrek movies with me tonight. With cuddles.”

“You don’t even like Shrek!”

Paige smiled smugly. “I know. But you hate them, and it’s funny to watch you roll your eyes every five seconds.”

In all honesty, nothing sounded better than being cocooned in a swath of blankets with her girlfriend while binging movies and cuddling. But she couldn’t let Paige know that. So Azzi made sure to groan loudly when Paige turned on the TV, pressing a kiss to the blonde’s head in order to hide her smile in her hair.

•••••••••••

“You shouldn’t need an Instagram like to validate the fact that I mess with a picture.” Paige added, laughed as she said these words, but she wondered if Azzi knew how true her statement really was. About how, whenever they were separated for more than a couple days, the last thing she’d do before going to sleep every night was to open up Azzi’s Instagram to scroll mindlessly through her posts, just to be reminded of why she was the luckiest person in the entire world. At this point, Paige had probably memorized every photo in every dump that Azzi had ever posted, could recite every caption and every person tagged.

And whenever Azzi posted while they were apart, Paige found herself screenshotting and saving every photo. I mean, how could she not? Her girlfriend just looked so good. So what, maybe more than half of Azzi’s posts were unliked, but Paige could guarantee that all of them were in her camera roll.

[spicyspiders]

I admire you so much, you literally make the best smut😭😭😭

Could you make a miguel o' hara x bottom male reader smut. Where miguel likes reader but has never been able to act on his urges until, the other Spider-Man start to flirt and be more friendly with him. So on the mission to save the Multiverse Miguel Pulls reader a abetting building or Warehouse and fucks him. With some degrading, dummification, and biting.

I have other requests for call of duty but couldn't help but write this. I'm so excited for the new movie and to see Miguel on screen. There isn't any topping or bottoming, but it's implied that Miguel will be the top when they actually have sex. Warnings for rimming, intercrural sex, and Miguel bites the reader until he bleeds. Even though I changed a few things, I hope you still like it.

You let out a loud bark of a laugh at what Ben had just said, not realizing how loud it truly was until you looked over and saw Miguel glaring at the two of you. 

“Sorry,” you said, quickly trying to hide the smile that accompanied the laugh. When you looked back over at Ben, you let out a snicker. 

Miguel growled and stepped into your personal space, “enough! Put your mask back on, we’ve got a mission to finish,” he waits until you give a tense nod before he goes back to where he was at the edge of the roof.

“Yours is still off and plus, it’s easier for me to see without it on,” you grumbled, pulling the mask back on. 

“If you weren’t playing around with him all the time,” Miguel gestures angrily at Ben, “you could have fixed it!” 

Ben tried to calm the other man, but his attempt was in vain. He tried placing a hand on his shoulder, but Miguel knocked it away, “we’re going to finish up and then we’ll get back and fix the lenses in his mask,” Ben said. His words made Miguel’s shoulders look a little less tense, but then he went and messed it up again, “we don’t want them to hear,” Ben nodded down to the ground where the group of men you were tailing were gathered. 

His final sentence only made Miguel angrier, his shoulders going tense again, “and whose fault would that be?” He asked furiously. 

You flinched at his rough tone, trying to pull yourself in and make yourself smaller so he would stop looking at you with such anger. You glanced over at Ben, seeing that his body language looked similar to yours. 

When you looked back over to Miguel, you could see that his expression had softened. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, his fangs peeking out from his top lip, but they quickly went away as his mouth closed. 

Miguel turned to face the men down on the ground, leaving you to look at the broad expanse of his back. You wanted to reach out like Ben did to try and comfort him, but instead kept your arms at your sides. 

The men you were trailing were on the move again, “let’s go,” Ben said softly, spurring you into movement. 

The rest of the mission surprisingly went off without a hitch. Afterward, when you were about to leave the warehouse where you had apprehended the group of men, a hand on your arm stopped you. 

“We need to talk,” Miguel said. It was just the two of you, Ben had left with one of the officers to go back to their station and answer questions. 

Miguel pulled his mask off and held it tightly in one hand. The last cop car was leaving but was still close enough to cast a red glow through a window and onto his face, making his eyes look even brighter. He started talking only once you had taken your mask off like he did. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he tore his eyes away from yours and let out a breath. When his eyes met yours again, they looked sad, “I scared you,” he finished softly. 

“You’re our leader, aren’t you supposed to be kind of scary?” You smiled softly at him, but he still looked at you with the same expression. You tried reaching out, but Miguel walked away. 

You followed after him, stopping beside him when he leaned up against one of the tables that littered the warehouse. A short time ago, the table had stacks of papers of various plans, schematics, and other blueprints the men you stopped were going to carry out. Now it lay bare. 

Miguel tossed his mask up onto the table before gripping the edge with both hands, “it drives me out of my mind,” he said, keeping his eyes on the table. 

“What does?” You placed your mask down and laid your empty hand on top of his. “Don’t break the table, they might need it for evidence,” you try and joke, but Miguel ignores it. 

“You with him. The way you laugh and how your face lights up,” he spits. 

“Ben?”

At the sound of his name, Miguel finally looks up, fixing his heated gaze on you, “you’re all over each other.”

You shake your head and can’t help but let out a laugh that doesn’t help in wiping the look from Miguel’s eye, “he’s my friend Miguel. Besides, you make me laugh all the time.”

Your words do cause him to relax a little, and his hands loosen from the table, making it easier to run your thumb along his knuckles. You only wish your hands weren’t in your suits and you were able to feel his skin. The warmth you could feel through the suit, you decided, would be enough. 

“Like when?” 

“When we’re training and you knock Ben on his ass,” you answer, watching in satisfaction as one corner of his mouth goes up. 

Miguel steps closer to where he can box you in against the table, nearly chest to chest, “I don’t know if I can make you laugh in the way that he does, but-” 

You press your lips to his, catching him by surprise, but he is quick to respond. You pull back from the soft kiss with a smile, “you already do,” you raise a hand to cup his cheek, “you don’t need to be like Ben. I like you grumpy.”

The smile that your kiss brought to Miguel’s lips was quickly gone, only proving your point further, “I am not grumpy,” he said and turned his head so he could nip at one of your fingers. 

“What are you then?” You pulled your hand away, giggling when Miguel chased after with his sharp teeth. 

“Smart.”

“Smart? What am I then?”

“You’re mine,” he growled and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was rougher than the first and left you with little pricks of pain where Miguel’s fangs grazed your lip. “He wouldn’t fuck you like I’m about to. I know that for a fact,” he whispers into your ear before kissing down the column of your neck. 

“Show me,” you breathe, both groaning when you grind your hips together. 

“You doubt me? I thought you would be smarter than that,” Miguel almost sounds disappointed, but when he presses his mischievous smile into your neck, you think otherwise. He opens his mouth just enough for his fangs to graze the skin, the delicate flesh rising after his teeth make their way across. 

You let out a whimper when his warm tongue laves over the marks. His tongue licks all the way up, not stopping until his lips press to yours and his tongue dips inside. When your tongues meet, you can taste traces of sweat and something darker. Something that is all Miguel. 

It’s Miguel’s turn to grind your hips together when the kiss is over, and the moans you both let out echo through the warehouse. He brings your lips together again and again and again, only stopping for mere moments in between to suck in harsh breaths of air. 

It only takes a few minutes of that until you’re both fully hard in your suits. “Do you have lube?” You ask, gasping around the words when Miguel brings your hips together again. 

“No. Do you?” Miguel’s head thunks onto your shoulder when you shake your head, “fuck.”

“Fuck,” you repeat, “we could just-” you try to bring your hips together again, but Miguel flips you around. 

“I can get you wet enough for my cock,” he says into your ear. 

Through the tight grip he has on your waist with his clawed hands, you push your ass back when he grinds forward, the hot line of his cock right against your ass. At least from how it felt, Miguel’s cock was big, but you knew either way that you still needed lube. 

“I don’t think-”

“Let me try,” he grinds forward again, “please?” He begs. You’ve never heard Miguel beg before, but you learned quickly how warm it made you feel. 

That single word from Miguel is how you find yourself moments later bent over the table with your suit’s pants down around your ankles and a tongue licking around your hole. You knew his spit wasn’t going to be enough, but Miguel sure had a lot of enthusiasm. 

When Miguel goes from long flicks of his tongue around your hole to instead press the wet muscle inside, you bury a hand in his dark hair to try and get his tongue deeper. You let out a moan and turn your face to press your sweaty cheek into the cool metal of the table. 

You tighten your grip when Miguel pulls his tongue out and let out a noise of protest. You feel your knees threaten to buckle when Miguel’s fangs meet the flesh of your ass cheeks. He bites down harder than he had on your neck, and nearly breaks the skin, but stops just before it happens. 

He gives the same treatment to the other one. The first brought tears to your eyes and when he moved on the second, they spilled over. The hot tears falling down your face feel just as hot as his tongue as he runs it over the marks he left. 

The skin he marks burns, even after he runs his tongue over it soothingly. The pain of it is overtaken by pleasure as Miguel continues to ruin you with his lips, teeth, and tongue. Your eyes fly open and more tears leak out when he pulls back and spreads your ass cheeks so he can spit onto your hole. 

Miguel had made sure to fold his claws in, not wanting the sharp instruments to risk cutting you, but you can still feel light pricks as he squeezes the globes of your ass. He chases after the spit as it runs down your taint and nearly hits your balls. After dragging it back up, he goes back down to suck at your balls, licking over the delicate skin when he sucks each of them into his mouth. 

Your cock aches in the open air of the warehouse, no doubt dripping a pool of precome onto the floor. You want to reach down and wrap a hand around it, but you’re eager to see what Miguel does next and want to instead focus on that. 

Your ass and the back of your legs go cold when Miguel pulls away. You lift yourself on your shaky arms so you can crane your head back and watch him. His eyes lock onto yours as he undoes his pants so his cock can spring free. 

His cock is a mouthwatering sight that demands your eyes go down to it. The head of his thick cock, like yours, is a wet sticky mess that leaks down onto Miguel’s fingers when he wraps his hand around the base. 

“Bring your legs together, as tight as your can,” Miguel says, his voice rough and raspy. “Good boy,” he rewards you with a soft kiss to the back of your neck when you comply. He guides his cock into the tight channel you’ve created with your thighs. 

Miguel wastes no time in thrusting into the tight space, his precome slicking up his path. He pants hotly into your ear, his hands gripping your hips tight enough that you know will leave bruises. His hard cock occasionally brushes yours or rubs against your balls, sending flashes of pleasure through your body on each pass. 

“I’m going to fuck you stupid when we get home and make you forget all about Ben,” he whispers darkly into your ear. 

Your head falls back onto his shoulder when he takes one of his hands from your hips and wraps it around your cock. He jerks you off in time with his thrusts and it doesn’t take long for you to spill across his fingers and the table below with a loud moan. 

When Miguel comes, he bites into the skin of your neck, this time breaking the skin. He moves quickly to wrap his arm around your chest as pain blood out around the wound his teeth make. He holds you securely to his body and licks up the blood that seeps out when his teeth pull away.

Your healing factor makes it so by the time you both are done cleaning up, your wounds have all almost healed. 

“Can you walk?”

You scoff at Miguel in disbelief, “yes I can fucking walk,” you say, angrily pulling the rest of your suit back on. 

Miguel leaves you with a smirk before he puts his mask back on, “I’ll ask you again later,” he says before walking out of the warehouse and zipping into the air on a web. 

“Look who's got jokes now!” You yell after him and shoot out your web to follow him. 

 Sometime later when you’re back home in Miguel’s bed you ask: “you aren’t going to kick him out are you?” You ask, looking up at him as you lay against his chest. You hadn’t been fucked stupid, instead deciding on another night when there was less excitement of another mission. 

Miguel runs a finger across where he had bitten you. Though it had healed, he remembered exactly where he left his mark. “If he doesn’t stop looking at you like that I will,” he murmurs darkly. 

“Like what?”

“You really aren’t that smart,” Miguel says fondly before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. Miguel lets out a yelp when you pinch one of his nipples harshly in retaliation.

[callmeby-mylastname]

Just a Fuck

summary-she was everything and clearly you were nothing.

warnings-angsty, tara low-key toxic. shitty ass writing. swearing.

A/N- i’m gonna be honest i made this up as i went it’s complete garbage💀it’s also rushed to hell but enjoy.

part 2

12 missed calls

you had rang her 12 times in the past hour, sent countless texts and yet not a single reply.

You weren’t surprised maybe a little worried but definitely not surprised. She was ignoring you and at some random douche bags party.

You and tara weren’t exactly dating but at the same time you wouldn’t call it friends. You and tara started this regime one drunken night, pushing the boundary of friend and lover.

And as much as it made you two closer because at this point it was more than fucking; it was stolen glances, her paying attention to your favourite movies or songs, picking you up little gifts cause they reminded her of you.

It also made you drift, you were just her little secret. You didn’t mind, really you didn’t if it meant having tara you’d move countries to keep yourself a secret. It hurt a lot a little sometimes but whenever you would bring it up she’d deny you two weren’t just fucking, that, that’s all it was and it would cause a big argument so you kept quiet.

That was until around 10pm this afternoon, leading to tara storming out and ignoring you.

Calling it a night you got on a change of clothes ready for bed when you heard your apartment door.

glancing towards your phone clock reading 3:42.

You peaked through the peaking hole to see a very drunk and disheveled tara, you let out a sigh unlocking the door and opening it.

She gave you her best grin passing you a “i missed you” and waltzing into the apartment immediately making a beeline towards your bedroom.

“Tara, where have you been? you’ve been ignoring me now you show up to my apartment drunk and unannounced” you follow after her.

“Hmm? stop acting all surprised you were the one who pushed me out” she looked angrier now, tension began to fill the room and there was only way this was ending.

“How did I push YOU out? YOU left remember?” you explained. “Its’s not my fault you’re clingy and constantly need me around, god i wish you’d give me space sometimes” shes shouting now, pointing in your direction

“It’s constantly, tara come over or tara why can’t i meet your friends or your sister, tara,tara,tara. God do you ever shut up and consider maybe you really are just a fuck?” she was looking at you, dead in the eyes.

For a brief second you saw the regret flash across her eyes but you’re too busy trying not to show her how much she just hurt you.

“Get out” it wasn’t meant to come out as bitter as it did but hey she deserved it?

“Y/N… i-“

“Out”.

And like a puppy with its tail in between it’s legs she left. Her apartment was in the same complex as yours which is coincidentally how you two met, so she would make it home safe.

Yeah she hurt you but doesn’t mean you would wish any danger upon her.

With the sound of the door closing you fall onto your bed letting your tears fall.

You truly sobbed that night. You loved tara and for her to shove everything back in your face.

To know she was everything to you yet you were nothing to her, hurt like a bitch.

You cried yourseld to sleep thay night and a good few nights after that.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 1 ~ 42

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,810ish

Summary: The group heads to Paris, where the plan goes wrong.

Warning(s): a lot of movie dialogue, fights, Stryker

Notes: STRYKER LOOKS LIKE THE ORIGINS STRYKER NOT DAYS OF FUTURE PAST STRYKER. Also, I hope that this makes a lick of sense and isn't too choppy. Please let me know your thoughts.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

Logan sent you and Peter to get the car while Erik was told the reason that he had been broken out of the Pentagon. Once you returned with the car, everyone loaded up, and you headed to a private airport. A private airport was waiting on the runway when you arrived.

“Uh, do any of you know how to fly this thing?” you asked, eying the nice plane.

“I do,” Hank said, heading up the stairs. “I’ll get everything ready.”

You looked over at James. “This is our second flight in a day, and this is much longer. Are you sure you'll be okay?”

Logan could have melted at the concern shining through in your eyes. “You’ll sit with me?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll be just fine, sweetheart.”

Keeping his eyes locked on yours, Logan slowly reached forward and took your hand. Your breath caught at the feeling of your hand in his. He had held your hand before, but something was different about this. Logan gave your hand a light squeeze before guiding you up the steps and onto the private plane. As much as Logan wanted to sit beside you and hold you tight, he knew that he was already pressing too much. He led you to a seat and then sat across from you with a small table between.

Erik entered the plane soon after and reached for the newspaper that rested on the small table between you and Logan. Logan quickly pinned the newspaper to the table with his claws.

“Imagine if they were metal,” Erik scoffed, walking to one of the back seats.

Logan bit down a remark as he pulled out a cigar. He went to light it, but you quickly killed the flame from his lighter. 

“Are you really going to do that while we all sit in this cramped plane?” You asked, exasperated. 

“What? It’s not illegal yet,” Logan retorted.

Your brows creased together. “You make it sound like someday it will be.”

“Uh, well, yeah, because of people like you who don't like the smell.”

“Right.”

“So you really won’t let me light it?”

“Not a chance, James.”

His lips tugged into a small smile, barely there, as he put the lighter and cigar back in his pocket. “Then how am I going to survive this flight?”

“Here,” you reached your hand across the table and wiggled your fingers. “Take it.”

Logan didn't waste a second in placing his hand in yours. At the same time, Charles entered the plane and went to the back to sit down. Hank got the plane in the air, causing Logan to grip your hand tighter. The silence in the plane was almost suffocating as Charles glared at Erik.

“How did you lose them?” Erik asked Charles. 

“The treatment for my spine affects my DNA,” Charles explained.

“You sacrificed your powers so you could walk?!”

“I sacrificed my powers so I could sleep.” Charles shook his head. “What do you know about it?”

"I've lost my fair share.”

Charles let out a cold laugh. “Dry your eyes, Erik. It doesn't justify what you’ve done.”

“You have no idea what I've done.”

"I know you took the things that meant the most to me."

“Well, maybe you should have fought harder for them."

Charles and Erik stood up to be face-to-face. "If you want a fight, Erik, I will give you a fight!"

"Sit down!” Logan demanded.

“Let him come," Erik responded.

Charles seized Erik by the front of his shirt. "You abandoned me!” He exclaimed. “You took her away, and you abandoned me!”

“Angel. Azazel. Emma. Banshee,” Erik grew angrier with each name, his powers beginning to control the plane. “Mutant brothers and sisters, all dead! Countless others experimented on, butchered!” 

Erik's powers rattled the plane and set it on a downward trajectory. The force caught you off guard, sending you flying sideways out of your seat. Logan's grip on your hand was the only thing to keep you from hitting your head. With a groan, Logan pulled you into his lap. 

“Hold on to me,” Logan mumbled. 

Your arms slipped around his neck as he held tightly to the table to keep you both in place. You tried to remain calm at how it felt to be in his lap and this close. You took a deep breath to keep your heart and powers at bay.

"Where were you, Charles?!” Erik continued. Charles was holding onto the ceiling and a seat to try and not fly around.

“Erik!” Hank shouted as he tried to regain control of the plane. 

��We were supposed to protect them! Where were you when your own people needed you?! Hiding! You and Hank! Pretending to be something you're not! You abandoned us all!”

“ERIK!”

Erik relinquished control of the plane. “You abandoned us all.” 

Both Charles and Erik were panting as they stared each other down. Unable to take it anymore, Charles went up and took the pilot seat next to Hank. Logan’s hands came up to cup your face, his eyes frantically scanning for any sign of injury.

“I'm okay," you told him, grabbing his wrists and giving them a little squeeze.

“You sure?" He still was looking you over.

“Yes. Are you okay?”

Logan’s eyes finally met yours. “Yeah. Just great.”

You nodded, not believing him. “I’m going to use the restroom.” You pushed off of him and slipped into the nearby restroom.

Logan sighed, fixing his position in his seat. “So, you were always an asshole."

Erik scoffed. “I take it we're best buddies in the future,” he turned and responded.

Logan chuckled. “I spent a lot of years trying to bring you down, bub.”

“How does that work out for you?”

“You’re like me. You’re a survivor.” Logan looked around at the mess left due to Charles and Erik's argument. “Do you wanna pick all that shit up?"

The conversation died down, silence filling the plane. Including you, frozen in the restroom as you overheard their conversation. The future? Is that why James was acting so strange? But then... why—how did he look the same? Was this all a trap? This was a conversation you needed to have with James alone and not in the middle of the air with strangers. Except, these people didn't seem like strangers to him. Taking a deep breath, you needed to bury down the fear and anxiety that was bubbling up inside of you. You slipped out of the restroom and sat back in your seat.

Logan knew you too well. The second his eyes fell on you, he knew something was wrong. His brows pinched together as he leaned forward, trying to catch your eye, but he could tell you were avoiding it.

“Sweetheart, what's wrong?” He whispered.

The question was something you noted. The two of you had known each other for less than a year, and he was asking like he knew you like the back of your hand.

“I’m fine," you replied. “Just tired.” You moved to curl up in the chair. 

“Y/N—“

“I’m fine, James," you snapped. "Let me get some rest."

Logan watched as you curled up and closed your eyes. An anxious knot formed in his stomach. He was going to lose you at this rate, and he didn't even know how to fix it without completely making it worse. As soon as he could tell that you were asleep, he pulled off his leather jacket, stood up, and carefully placed it on top of you. Logan couldn't control himself as he leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of your head. Tears threatened to overtake his eyes as he thought that this could be the last gentle moment he had with you. He needed to savor it.

“You love her,” Erik stated quietly from where he was sitting.

Logan grunted in response as he sat back down. “In the future, she's my wife.”

“Is she waiting with the future versions of Charles and I?”

“She died. The Sentinels killed her right before I was sent back here.”

“Makes more sense now. You're not doing this for anyone else. You're doing this for her."

“Everything I will ever do is for her.”

~~~

You were thankful to wake up almost in Paris. Though the woodsy smell of James' cigars instantly overtook your senses. His leather jacket was draped over you. Glancing over at him, you saw him awake, staring out the window. You sat up, pulling the jacket off of you.

“Sleep well?” he asked, looking at you.

“Fine,” you replied. “For a chair.” You reached over and handed him the jacket. “Thanks."

“Any time.”

~~~

Your anxiety was growing with each second. Logan could sense it. But each time he tried to move closer to help you out, you moved away. That’s how you ended up sitting between Charles and Hank in the back seat while Logan drove and Erik sat in the passenger seat. The five of you hurried through the building once you arrived there. Flames flickered at your fingertips as you tried to calm down.

When you arrived at the meeting room, the blue woman you assumed was Raven was on the large table, aiming a gun at the smaller man in the corner. Your eyes moved, finding the still-conscious man on the ground near you. You stumbled back.

“Stryker," you gasped.

“Raven,” Erik called, causing Raven to pause and ignore what was going on with you.

Stryker smirked and quickly pulled out a contraption, shooting you with it. You screamed out as you began to be electrocuted. Logan roared, stepping forward as you writhed in pain. But suddenly, his mind grew hazy, and he stumbled back. Erik quickly took out Stryker and disarmed Raven. Logan’s breaths were coming short and desperate as he slid down the wall. The memories of what Stryker did to the two of you–his past, your future–played out in his mind. Logan couldn’t control it as his claws pushed through his knuckles. He could feel the tug to return to his own time, but he needed to fight. He needed to complete the mission. He needed to get to you. But for a moment, Logan’s 2023 conscience slipped away.

You stayed on the ground, the commotion around you becoming a blur as you whimpered in pain. Between both of you panicking, you and Logan missed Erik trying to kill Raven, and Raven escaped from the window.

“Where am I?" Logan panted, standing up.

“Huh?” Charles barely registered the question.

“How the hell did I get here?” 

“What? You came to us."

“Who are you?”

“Charles.” Logan gripped his shoulder tightly. “Charles Xavier!”

“I don’t know you.”

“Huh?” Hank, in his Beast form, stood up behind Charles.

“What the hell is that? And where's... Y/N? Where’s Y/N?"

“She’s over there.” 

As Logan rushed over to your side, Charles urged Hank to go stop Erik from hurting Raven.

“Y/N,” Logan pulled you into his arms.

“James?” you muttered.

Logan noticed Stryker unconscious beside you. “No. We need to get out of here.” He hoisted you up in his arms and glared at Charles. “Did you lead us here? To this trap?"

“What? No!" Charles exclaimed. “You're Logan, that's Y/N. I'm Charles Xavier. You spent the last couple of days with me and my friends.”

“Why?” Logan groaned as his head pounded. With a blink, Logan panted, and his 2023 consciousness was back. “Professor?”

“What happened to you?”

Logan looked down at you and then over at Stryker. He wanted to kill him, but he couldn't risk the timeline as much as he was already risking. “That man will cause a lot of pain to me and Y/N.”

“James,” you cried in his arms.

Logan tightened his grip around you and shushed you. “I've got you, sweetheart. You're safe now… I have you.” He quickly looked around. “Where’s Raven?"

“Gone."

“What?" Sirens began blaring in the distance, coming closer.

“We have to get out of here.”

Logan, still holding you tightly to his chest, followed Charles out of the building and through the panicking streets. The three of you met up with Hank and headed back to the airport. As soon as you were on the plane, you peeled yourself from Logan and curled up on a chair in the corner. 

“Y/N—"

“Don’t,” you rasped, trying to hold back the onslaught of emotions. You looked up at him, tears gathering in your eyes. “I… I don't even know what to say to you."

He sat down across from you. “I’m sorry—"

“Who are you?”

“You know who I am."

"No, I don't. We’ve barely known each other for a year, and I chose to run away with you with the promise that you'd protect me. But days ago, we woke up, and you weren't the same person. You’re talking weird—in the past tense. This mission isn't adding up. Then Stryker… we walked right into a trap. So, you are not my James. Who are you?”

“I... I can’t… I can’t tell you.”

"Then I'm gone as soon as this plane lands.”

“No, please." His hands grasped yours like his life depended on it. "Please, don’t leave. I’ll do anything.”

“Then tell me the truth.”

Logan sighed. “I am your James. This is his body, but my conscience… my conscience was sent back from fifty years in the future.”

“The future?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because a war is coming. A war that destroys the world... destroys my world. But I can stop it. Well, I thought I could.”

“I need something more. What you are saying could all be a lie."

Logan sighed, thinking of something that would get you to believe him. “The night you found out about your mutation. Your father killed your mother. He believed you and her were monsters. You killed him and—"

“Enough," you yanked your hands out of Logan's grip. “I believe you.”

“Are you… are you going to leave?"

You stayed quiet for a moment, studying his eyes. You knew that if you truly wanted to, Logan would let you walk away. But you could tell that it would break his heart. There was something he was still keeping from you, something that was his true motive for doing this. You weren’t going to pressure him, though. It was a secret he obviously held too close to his heart to share.

“I don’t know," you whispered. “I need some space.”

“Okay,” he nodded, standing up. “Just... let me know if you need anything.” 

You watched as Logan walked to the opposite side of the plane. His shoulders were slumped forward. He was sad, more sad than you had ever seen. It made you want to wrap him up and hold him close, but you couldn’t. Not when everything was so messed up right now.

~~~

Logan had never felt so anxious before. He didn't know what you would choose. To stay with him and give him a chance to make things right, or to walk away and possibly ruin any future with him. A part of him finally breathed when the plane landed, and you got into the car with the others. Logan could breathe a little bit more when you walked into the mansion with them.

Charles grunted, collapsing to his knees in the entryway of the mansion.

"What happened?” Logan asked, rushing to Charles' side with Hank.

“Come on,” Hank muttered, holding Charles up.

“Why can't he walk?" You asked.

“He needs his treatment," Hank responded.

“Hank, I can hear them," Charles complained in pain as Hank moved him to sit up against the wall.

“I know. It's okay."

“Can you make it stop?"

“I'll get them.” Hank rushed off.

Charles’ hands went to both sides of his head as he squeezed his eyes shut and let out a groan.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Logan said. "Pull yourself together."

“James!” You exclaimed.

“It's not over yet."

Panting, Charles opened his eyes and looked into Logan's. "You don't believe that," he retorted.

“How do you know that?”

“As these go,” Charles motioned to his legs. “This…” he touched the side of his head, "comes back. They all come back.”

“Look, I’m… I’m still here…” He glanced your way as you crouched next to Charles. “And she’s still out there. We need your help, Charles. Not like this. I need you. We can’t find Raven. Not without your powers.”

Hank's quick footsteps cut in as he joined you beside Charles. "I added a little extra because you missed a dose,” he stated.

Logan watched as Charles took the syringe. “Charles.” 

The man placed it against his arm and caught Logan’s gaze again. Then he looked to you. In the brief moments that Charles had regained his powers, he had seen you in Logan’s mind. The future you. Just glimpses. He could feel the love that Logan had for you. The respect and admiration and the fear that he may never see you again. With a huff, Charles set the syringe down.

“Uh, Hank, do me a favor,” Charles said, catching his breath. "Would you help me to my study, please?”

“Come on, I got you," Hank helped Charles up.

“I can help,” you offered, coming to his other side.

The three of you headed to the study with Logan following. Hank stopped at a chair near a closet, where you helped Charles into the chair. Hank opened the closet, revealing a wheelchair.

"Are you sure about this?” Hank asked.

“Absolutely not,” responded Charles.

You helped Charles get settled into the wheelchair. Logan and Hank quietly conversed behind you. Charles caught your chin, gently forcing you to look at him.

“You are the most important thing to him," Charles whispered. “He is doing this for you.” You inhaled sharply, taking in Charles' words. “Give him a chance… These may be his last moments with you. Let him have them, no matter what happens.”

“We should head downstairs,” Hank said before you could say anything to Charles.

Charles led the way, controlling his own wheelchair over to the elevator. Logan lingered behind you, wanting to make sure he knew where you were going so that you couldn't slip away without him knowing. You gasped when you arrived downstairs, where it was all sleek, silver metal. You followed Charles down the long hallway to the door at the very end.

“When was the last time you were down here?" asked Logan.

“The last time we went looking for students," Hank answered.

“A lifetime ago,” Charles corrected.

Charles stopped in front of the door. The hole in the door lit up, shining in Charles’ eyes.

“Welcome, Professor," an automated female voice greeted before the door slid open, revealing a large sphere room.

The four of you headed down the walkway to the end. Hank immediately began turning knobs on the control panel as you looked around.

“Raven’s wounds,” Hank stated. “She won't be moving fast.”

Charles picked up the helmet and blew the dust off of it. “These are muscles I haven't stretched in a long time,” he said before slipping the helmet off. He gasped as the room turned into a red-and-white map.

“Wow,” you gasped. "What is this?”

Charles gasped and groaned under the pressure of it all. As he started to scream, the dials on the control panel began exploding. Logan quickly covered you as pieces of glass went flying everywhere. 

“Charles!" Hank exclaimed as Charles tore off the helmet. “It’s all right. Are you all right?”

Logan gently grabbed your face, checking you over for injuries. “You hurt?” he asked.

“I’m fine, Jam—Logan. I’m fine," you replied.

His heart cracked a little. “Please, don't do that.”

“Do what?”

“Call me Logan.”

“But everyone else—"

“There will be a time and a place for you to call me Logan. I’m still your James right now. Okay? I need to be your James."

“Okay.”

“I’ll go check the generator,” Hank said, pulling you and Logan from your own little world. He quickly left.

“It's not the machinery, is it?" Logan questioned.

“I can't do this,” Charles shook his head. “My mind—“

“Yes, you can.”

“No. It won't take it.”

“You’re just a little rusty."

“You don't understand. It's not a question of being rusty. I can flip the switches. I can turn the knobs. But my power comes from here." He pointed to his head. “It comes from…” His hand shook above his heart. "And it's broken. I feel like one of my students. Helpless.” Charles turned his wheelchair around and started heading back down the walkway. “It was a mistake coming down here. It was a mistake freeing Erik. This whole thing has been one bloody mistake. I’m sorry, Logan, but they sent back the wrong man."

“You're right.” Charles stopped. “I am. Actually, it was supposed to be you. But I was the only one who could physically make the trip. And, uh,” Logan glanced your way, “And I don’t know how long I've got here. But I do know that a long time ago—actually, a long time from now, I was your most helpless student.” Logan leaned down, gripping the armrests of the chair and getting in Charles' face. “And you unlocked my mind. You showed me what I was. You showed me what I could be. I don't know how to do that for you. You're right. I don't. But I know someone who might. Look into my mind.”

“You saw what I did to Cerebro. You don't want me inside your head."

“There's no damage you can do that hasn't already been done, trust me… Come on.” 

Charles placed his hands on either side of Logan's face while you waited with bated breath. Images of Logan’s life—his most painful moments and you, his happiest, filtered through. 

“You poor, poor man,” Charles gasped as your final death played before him.

“It wasn't all that bad,” Logan said, shooting you a smirk. "Look past me."

“No, I don't want your suffering. I don't want your future!"

“Look past my future. Look for your future… That’s it… That's it... That's it." 

You watched as a tear streamed down Charles' face as he concentrated harder. It took a few silent moments, but eventually, Charles pulled away from Logan. The lights in the hallway flickered on.

“Find what you were looking for?” Logan wondered, a knowing look on his face.

“The powers back on," Hank stated, coming back.

“Yes,” Charles said, looking at Logan, who gave him a small smile. "Yes, it is.”

Charles looked in Cerebro while Logan looked at you. You gave him a small smile, which instantly had Logan’s eyes lighting up. You knew that Logan had to finish this mission, and you'd be by his side until the end.

next chapter >

[i-love-oldermen]

|Ultraviolence|

A/n: Heyyyy guys it’s been forever but I like this plot and I’m still not sure what to write for part 2 of my other story. So enjoy this :)

Summary: The boys could tell you would do anything for Butcher, he thought you were just following orders

Warnings: (not the best smut but yk) cursing, age play, grinding, p in v, teasing, fingering, slight dom!Butcher

Even though you were the youngest and quietest you had a designated job, ‘doctor’ was your role. You patched everyone up when they got hurt. You were a nursing student before you were offered to take down supes by Frenchie. Frenchie had been your friend for years so without question you joined and disappeared off the face of the earth.

Although now was a normal day in the bunker for the most part. You were sitting with Frenchie cuddled up to him as you guys watched a movie with Kimiko on his other side. You loved the little trio you had with them. You made sure they were always safe and they did the same for you. Your eyes became heavy as you started to fall asleep on Frenchies shoulder.

You were woken up by Frenchie who was slightly shaking your shoulders but you can hear commotions. You rubbed your eyes, standing up and turning towards the commotion. It was Butcher he was hurt with a gash on his forehead and now wearing a shirt covered in blood that you cleaned before he left. You stood in your spot by the couch watching everything unfold, that’s when he turned to you.

“Oí go get the bloody first aid why don’t ya”

Butcher turned to reveal an even more injured Hughie who was grabbing his side in agony. You quickly went to your room grabbing the first aid kit. Rushing back into the small kitchen you set the first aid kit down, turning to Hughie you wrap a arm around his waist making sure not to touch his cut.

“I got him Butcher” you look up at him as he gives you a nod.

You sit Hughie down on the table. You whisper sweet nothings to Hughie as if he were a child with a boo boo.

“It’s gonna be okay Hughie I’ll fix you up all nice” you give him a caring smile being cautious as you sew stitches in his side.

“Holy fuck y/n can you shut the fuck up and not be a fucking lap dog” the words hurt your heart a bit you always thought of Hughie as a friend. You knew Hughie was in pain so you just sat letting everything fall silent or so you thought. You hear big heavy footsteps echo through the empty kitchen floorboards. Looking up at Hughie you can see the fear in his eyes as it floods his whole body making him tense up. Turning around you’re faced with an angrier Butcher.

“Oí don’t be a cunt to the angel that is stitching you up”

Hughie replies quick “you don’t get it she uh-“

“Bloody I don’t give a rats ass what she does matter of fact” Butcher leans down to Hughies ear before whispering something that came out incoherent to you. By the looks of it you can see Hughies eyes widen and Butcher having a big smirk. After Butcher walks away to the living room , taking a seat that’s facing the kitchen.

“Im sorry Hughie” you say in a whisper hushed tone.

He doesn’t even look at you staring at the ceiling as you finish up his stitches. You help him clean up the blood around his stitches making sure to be careful.

“I got it thank you y/n” there’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice but you just brush it off.

You give him a head nod before going to the living room where Butcher is. You stand infront of him with your hands behind you back.

“Yes y/n” his voice is gruffy sending a special sensation down your spine and in between your thighs.

“Would you like me to check you out” you look him up as if you were scanning for any injures. You see a small scratch on his head.

You see as a smirk creeps onto his face “There is always other ways you could help me love”

You were sure Butcher saw you as nothing else then a child. So obviously he was joking, right? I mean 15 years apart and he always called you kiddo. You shake it the thought from your brain.

You let out a small giggle, not taking anything he says serious. “Here let me help you” pointing to his temple that where the scratch is. He starts to speak but you cut him off “Let me at least look at it” He lets out a sigh. Knowing you won you straddle one of his thighs, gently hovering above his thigh not making contact. You gently grab his face into your hands.

“You see anything, love” you can feel his breath on your neck. As his hands creep onto your hips.

“No I think you’re good but-“ you’re the one who’s cut off by him pulling you down to his thigh. The gasp that fell from your lips caused the British man to smirk.

“Come on” you stayed quiet not knowing what to say. “I see the way you look at me, you sweet angel” he starts to slowly rock your hips back and forth. Your mouth fell open from the friction with the small amount of fabric covering your glistening core. As he leads your hips you couldn’t help the way your lips shuttered as you felt the rough Jean fabric massage your clit.

“Fuck Butcher, please” the noises coming from your mouth were unholy to say at least.

“Tell me what you want, kiddo” the nickname rang through your ears. Kiddo? Really right now? But you just couldn’t help the desperate needy whine that fell from your lips.

Looking up into his eyes ¨Please, Butcher I want to feel your hands all over me ¨ he grinds your hips harder into his thigh which causes a moan to slip from your lips. He grabs your face in a rough assertive way making your lips crash together. Letting out another moan which is hushed by Butchers lips.

The feeling of his lips on yours is intoxicating being able to taste the cigarette he must of smoked and the taste of whiskey faint on his tongue. As you tangle your hands into his hair, his hands find there way to your ass which makes him grab and knead the soft flesh.

He gently pulls away holding your face in his hands ¨How about we takes this somewhere, where I can lay you down darlin¨ He has a smirk on his face.

¨Come with me then, old man¨ As you get up from his lap you feel a slap to your ass, pulling you back towards him.

¨Be a good girl and mind what you say, okay darlin¨ he holds your face in one hand squeezing your cheeks together giving you fish lips. A giggle falls from your swollen lips causing Butcher to smirk down at you.

You attempt once again to escape his strong grasp. Yet your attempt is once again failed by him pulling you back down on his lap so now your back was facing him. ¨Where you trying to go now love ¨ Dominating tone in his voice causes you to push your ass back feeling how hard he is.

¨Come on baby lets go to the room¨your voice comes out as a whisper as you grind your ass on him.

You feel as Butchers hand finds its way to your neck ¨ How about you try your best to stay quiet for me my love¨

Feeling his hand slide down to your shorts pushing them aside. He massages the inside of your thigh as your head falls on to his shoulder. A moan leaves your lips. Butcher is quick to cover your mouth as one hand massages circles into your clit. You bite down on his hand to conceal your moan as his rough hand goes faster and faster. As a knot builds in your stomach and your eyes begin to roll back Butcher stops in his tracks. Hand still covering you whine at the loss of contact. He swiftly removes his hand while flipping you over to face him.

¨Hey there pretty girl¨

¨Shut up and fuck me already”

“See love all you needed was to ask”

The kiss was dominant and fierce as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. Pushing down your shorts and taking off his jeans in a swift push. Removing your underwear wear he pushes the tip painfully slow through your folds, pushing on the back of your head to make you watch. You pant, trying to lift yourself up and down his cock while that lightning hot feeling flashes through your stomach.

Without much to any warning he puts all his length in you. You moan at the sensation of him feeling you up all the way, stretching you out in a way that you’ve craved.

Butcher holds your hips in place as he starts fucking into you, the slapping noise along with moans and grunts fill the air. Your lips fall open as moans fall from your mouth, you can tell butcher loves the noise by the way his dick starts twitching in you.

Your legs practically give out, but he kept you upright, clearly not finished with you. With every thrust of his hips, every squeeze of his hand, and every flick against your skin, you get closer and closer to your orgasm. You are screaming out his name as he spills into you, burying his face against your neck as he releases the most unholy groan. it was a miracle he could keep you both upright, but he managed, and he took a moment to admire the way you looked.

He loved how you looked so angelic and weak in his arms.

His lips found there way against your jugular, he begins whispering “you’re mine” over and over again until you hear the commotion of the team coming back

Fuck.

[lovecla]

OCEAN EYES | connor bedard

chapter three.

➴ warnings: curse words, fighting, protective connor

➴ word count: 3k

➴ author’s note: i’m writing all of this so fast that is scaring me. connor bedard this is all your fault!! anyways, i hope u enjoy this one too<3 :D

BEING hungover isn’t as fun as your friends back in high school used to say: your head was spinning and you had a sour taste on your tongue.

What was fun, though, was waking up next to Connor. Apparently, none of you had turned the heat up last night, and the apartment was freezing (even though it was mid-May, almost summer) but Connor’s body was so close to yours and he was so warm. And comfortable. So it only made sense for you to snuggle closer.

“Maybe it’d be better if you didn’t come… so close.” You heard his voice before you even opened your eyes and since when does Connor sound so… hot?

Am I still drunk?

No. I just haven’t heard his morning voice before.

“Why are you shouting?” You mumbled, breathing in his cologne. It wasn’t anything like a perfume, it was his natural scent and God if it didn’t make your brain even dizzier.

“I’m literally whispering.”

“You are now. You were shouting not even a minute ago,” although he wasn’t the type to shout outside of the rink, you were almost a hundred percent sure that he had been shouting in your ear. “What time is it?”

“Half past six. I need to hit the gym in an hour and then I have practice in the afternoon.”

Was he kicking you out? Or was he just informing you?

“You can stay here if you want to.”

Oh right. He was informing you.

You weighed your options. As much as you wanted to stay at his place, eat all of his snacks and wait until he got back, you knew that was too much. And you didn’t want to be a burden, so it’d be better if you just went home.

“I need to go back home. Alex doesn’t know where I am and he might get worried.”

You both knew that Alex was only a phone call away but no one said anything. It was better that way.

“Alright. Sleep a bit more though.” He asked, arms circulating your waist again, holding you even closer.

As the sleep invaded your body once again, you thought of how nice sleeping with Connor holding you close was.

But just before you fell asleep, you could swear you felt his lips on your forehead, kissing you goodnight.

And oh boy, if that didn’t make your heart ache.

—

YOU closed the front door and sighed. When you woke up, at one in the afternoon, Connor was already gone, so the only thing left to do was grab your clothes and leave. Even though your clothes weren’t that dirty, you didn’t want to put them back because you felt really good in Bedard’s clothes.

So you stayed like that.

“Alex, I’m home.” You yelled before remembering that he was probably at practice with Connor and the rest of the team.

You groaned and started walking towards the stairs, in the voracious need of a shower. You opened the door of your room, and stopped because—

“Chloe?” You asked, surprise pouring out of your words. “How— what— what are you doing here? How did you even get in?”

“Your brother opened the door for me.” She replied, her tone bitter and angry.

Right. She’s probably angry with you for interrupting her date yesterday.

“Where were you?” She asked, and you had the feeling that even though she was asking, she already knew the answer.

“I slept at Connor’s.” You answered, putting your clothes on your desk.

“Right. And came back with his clothes.”

You looked at your outfit— his Chicago Blackhawks hoodie and pants—, feeling bad. You should probably have changed before leaving.

“What is your deal, Ellie?” Chloe asked, and in all the years—four— you’ve known her, she never sounded angrier.

You frowned. “My… deal?”

“Yeah. What the fuck is your deal?” She got up, standing right in front of you. “You knew I had a date with him and what did you do? Got drunk and called him, like he’s your superhero or something. Let me tell you, you’re not MJ and this isn’t a movie.”

“I didn’t call him.”

“Oh, no? Then why did he leave the bar like his ass was on fire, talking about you being drunk and picking you up?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, her face red.

“Frank called him. I didn’t even know until Connor showed up there. I swear I didn’t do any of it on purpose. You know I would never—”

“Do I? I feel like I don’t even know you anymore,” she yells. “Why didn’t you tell me you like him? I asked it to your face and you lied. You said: ‘no, I don’t like him’, when you know you do!”

You opened your mouth to deny, to say something but what would you even say? Last week, the idea of being in love with Connor sounded crazy and something that would never happen to you but now? After sleeping and waking up beside him? After noticing the little things he does for you? After almost losing him because of a stupid lie? After feeling his arms around your waist? After feeling his lips on your forehead?

Yeah, no. Maybe Chloe was right.

You are in love with Connor Bedard.

But what does that mean? What would you do now? Confess it to both Chloe and Connor?

God. Your heart started racing just thinking about confessing to him.

“I— Chloe,” you started, stepping closer to her. “I’m sorry. I am. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“But it did. It happened,” she sighed, rubbing her hands on her face. “God, I can’t believe I wasted four years of my life with you.”

Ouch. That hurt. Wasted?

“Wasted? What do you mean, Chloe, we are friends,” you whispered, eyes starting to feel wet for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

“No. I was your friend. You’re just selfish and, apparently, a whore too. You knew I liked him.”

You wouldn’t cry. No. Not in front of her.

You looked at the girl you called your best friend for almost five years now and felt your heart shatter. Chloe meant so much to you, she was your rock and foundation. She was your ride or die and even though she changed after Alex joined the NHL, she was still your everything.

And it hurt so badly watching her change.

Hearing her calling you a whore, saying you’re selfish and that you did things on purpose. It hurt.

“I’m gonna fucking leave. Don’t bother contacting me again. God, I hope people never find out we’ve ever been friends.” She said, leaving your room and house. She closed the door behind her with so much force it made a loud bang.

You sat on your bed, and looked at your hands. Somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to tears.

In less than twenty four hours you lost your best friend and realized you are in love with your other best friend.

Fuck.

—

ALEX arrived home at nine p.m., late but still on time for dinner.

“Hey,” he said, looking at you, while you sat on the couch, WandaVision playing in the background. “What were you up to yesterday? Connor told me you got drunk and slept at his house.”

You smiled, picturing Connor’s face as he told Alex what happened to you.

“Yeah, getting drunk sucks by the way.” You mumbled, watching Vision and Wanda kissing on the screen.

“Then why did you do it?” Alex asked, sitting on the couch right beside you.

You stared at him, once again weighing your options. Tell him everything or pretend nothing happened?

He looked back at you and you had your answer.

“I ended my friendship with Chloe,” you whispered, still getting used to the idea. “And I am in love with Connor.”

“Fucking finally.” Was all he said, his attention back on the show.

You kept staring at him, in disbelief. “What do you mean finally?”

“I mean, you finally admitted that you like Connor and that Chloe was a bitch.” He replied, simply.

You stopped yourself a second away from denying that Chloe was a bitch. You don’t need to defend her anymore. “I only realized I like Connor today and I also ended things with Chloe today.”

“Dang, you had a lot going on with you this week, huh? Sucks to be you, to be honest.”

“You’re not helping!” You hit him with a pillow. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Tell Connor you like him?” He said, like it was that simple. “You don’t expect me to do it, right? You’re not a kid anymore.”

“I can’t just tell him I like him. And, no, I don’t want you to do it,” you rolled your eyes, half annoyed. “What if I ruin everything? I’ve already lost a friend today.”

“Are you that stupid, El?” He looked at you like you were actually stupid. You frowned. “No, because you have to be stupid to believe Connor doesn’t like you back.”

“What!?” You almost shouted this time. What! “What— do you think he likes me?”

“Everyone thinks that,” Alex said, like it was a fact. Maybe it was. “I don’t know how many people have already asked me if y’all were dating. At some point, I just started saying yes because it’s simpler than explaining that you both want each other but are too dumb.”

“Why would you say ‘yes’?” You asked. “What if Bedard heard you telling everyone he dates your sister?”

“Actually, he knows. And he never said anything.” Alex shrugged.

You stared at him, mouth open.

Huh.

“So… you think it’d be okay to tell him that I like him?” You said, after a minute in silence.

“Yeah, why not?”

“I don’t know…” you chuckled. “I think I’m just scared.”

“It’s okay. But you know Bedsy would never treat you badly.”

“I know. But I don’t want things to be weird afterwards. I like the way we are and I value his friendship so much.”

“All valid points but I really think you should tell him. Maybe tomorrow after practice? He usually stays after everyone leaves, practicing some more.” Alex suggests, and you shiver.

It felt too early to tell him but you knew that if you waited too long, you would never tell him anything. Besides that, you can’t lie. So if Connor asked you if anything happened, you’d probably embarrass yourself and tell him everything.

“Yeah. Maybe.” You agreed and started to pay attention to your show again.

It was a problem for future Ellie. Now, you just wanted to chill and watch your favorite Marvel show. Maybe this time Wanda and Vision would get their happy ending.

—

THE arena was freezing, so you were glad you brought Connor’s hoodie with you.

Entering the arena after practice ended wasn’t hard, you just asked the Coach to let you in and talk to Connor for a bit, which he happily allowed, after saying something like Don’t let that boy train his ass off, please.

You could hear him skating through the ice, and you caught yourself smiling. You knew how much he loved hockey and you thought it was the cutest thing. If anyone deserved a place in the NHL, it was him.

You started getting closer, not noticing that someone else was sitting on the benches too.

“You have the fucking nerve,” her voice hit you like a dagger and you froze in place.

Because Chloe Harrison was just in front of you, sitting on the benches, wearing a jersey. Connor’s jersey.

“Chloe? What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” She scoffed. “I don't see how that’s any of your business.”

“I didn’t know you’d be here…” you replied, feeling all the fake-confidence you managed to build starting to fade away. “I came to see Connor,” you said, not sure why. You still had to get used to the fact that you weren’t friends anymore.

“Of course you did,” she rolled her eyes. “I wish you’d stop being so fucking selfish and annoying.”

“I-I’m not being selfish. I just— Connor is my friend.”

“A friend that you wish was more. And you realizing that you like him right after I asked you to introduce me to him? Isn’t that so convenient?” She used the same tone she used to mock girls back in high school, and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, you have to know this!” You raised both your voice and arms, trying to convince her that you didn’t do any of this because you wanted to.

Before Chloe mentioned that you might have a crush on Connor, it had never crossed your mind before. Sure, you always thought he was extremely attractive and sure, you did spend a decent amount of time watching edits of him on social media but wasn’t that normal? Didn’t people do that all the time?

“The only thing I know is that you’re a fucking cunt.”

“Excuse me?”

You and Chloe both turned your heads to the right, where Connor stood. He had removed his skates and his helmet, his hair was stuck in his forehead and his face was slightly red.

He still looked so freaking beautiful though.

“Oh, Connor, I—” you heard Chloe start to talk again but Connor interrupted her.

“I think it’s best for you to leave.” He said slowly, and honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this angry before.

Even you were feeling a little bit scared. How those guys faced him in the rink was a whole different story.

“You have to listen to me—”

“You just called my best friend a cunt. I don’t think I should do anything at all,” he stepped closer. “Besides asking you to leave.”

“I called her that because that’s what she is!” Chloe got up, and crossed her arms in front of her chest, just like she did at your home.

“Listen,” he stepped closer again, forcing Chloe to look up so she could meet his eyes. “I’m not the type of coward who beats women. I do, however, have a sister who would absolutely fuck you up if she even imagined you called El that. So, unless you want your face to be scratched permanently, I’d suggest you grab your things, leave my jersey exactly where you found it and leave the building. And I better not see you ever again.”

Chloe looked like she was about to explode and punch you right in your face. But all she did was grab her purse and, well, leave.

You sat on the bench, trying to put your thoughts in place. You didn’t know what made your heart beat faster: Connor defending you or your best friend of four years calling you a cunt.

Hands on your face, you couldn’t do it anymore. You had been holding your tears all day, and that whole moment was the cherry on top of a shit sundae.

Tears rolled down your face and you couldn’t stop them. You didn’t want to stop them. You needed that, you needed to feel every ounce of pain running through your body.

And it was so easy to let go. So easy to remember every single one of Chloe’s harsh words. It was also easy to wonder if she was right, if you had done it all on purpose, even if unintentionally—

“I’m sorry, El.” Connor whispered, his right hand caressing your shoulder.

“Please, don’t say that,” you mumbled, not even sure if he understood your words, since you still had your face on your hands. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I hate to see you cry. Talk to me, El, please. Yell at me, kick me in the face, I don’t know, just— please. Stop crying.” There was pain in his voice and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I can’t help it,” you laughed dryly, finally facing him. His blue eyes, once filled with anger, were now the perfect reflection of worry. “My best friend since I was fourteen yelled at me, called me selfish and a whore and a cunt just because she found out I was in love with you,” you said, words leaving your mouth fast. “And the worst part is that maybe I think she’s right? I mean, I didn’t realize I liked you until she mentioned it. And the timing was perfect, wasn’t it?”

“You are in love with me?”

Your eyes closed, and you mumbled a little fuck. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you like this, with snot coming out of my nose and face all red and shit. But the mouse’s out of the bag, I guess.”

You heard his chuckle. “I’m pretty sure the saying is the cat is out of the bag. Not a mouse.”

“Maybe the cat ran away and the mouse stayed, I don’t know. Do you want to talk about that right now?” You smiled, feeling your chest a bit lighter.

“No. I wanna talk about me being in love with you too.”

You stopped smiling.

“What? No, Connor, listen to me,” you grabbed his hands, immediately regretting it because they were cold as hell. “You don’t have to say it back just because I did. It’s fine if you don’t like me. Just promise things won’t be weird between us.”

He frowned. “I’m not saying it just because you did. Well, I am but not because of that reason,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for two years now. Ever since you went to visit me and Madi in Sweden. But I’m just telling you now because I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

You searched for a lie in his eyes, but the only thing you found was honesty.

Alex was right. Connor liked you back.

Connor Bedard was in love with you.

“Are you sure you’re not only telling me that so I won’t feel absolutely crushed with the fact that both of my friends hate me?”

He laughed softly and did the one thing you only imagined in your best dreams.

He kissed you.

And, well. You kissed him back.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 17 all chapters

WARNINGS: THE MOST YANDERE CHAPTER OF THIS YANDERE FIC YET. POSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT. PLZ TAKE CARE. I LUV U ALL.😘

-In the haze between sleep and waking, you are vaguely aware of strong arms wrapped around you, a lean and long body spooned at your back. You feel warm, and safe, and by some signal of scent or touch or cosmic connection from your hindbrain, somehow you just know that it’s Mr. Wick who has you folded up in his embrace. How perfectly you fit, with the curve of your backside tucked against his hips, your legs tangled under the covers.

Your Half Asleep Brain is totally fine with this cozy arrangement. You don’t really remember how you got here, but maybe something for once actually went right.

You let yourself doze.

But then he shifts against you, (that inevitable male hardness poking against your backside), and you wake up a little more, your faculties returning to you as the dreamy curtain of slumber slips away. You start to remember what happened before—the chase, and the murder—and Awake Brain is suddenly not ok with your current arrangement at all.  

Awake Brain is ready to freak the fuck out.

You stiffen in his arms, trying to sit up, but that inexorable grip tightens around you.

“Easy.”

You struggle, but he effortlessly pins you, wrapping a long leg around yours. Between his greater strength and solid weight pressing you down into the mattress, you are stuck. 

“Let me go,” you growl. 

“Not until we have a little talk.” 

Under different circumstances this position could have been interesting. The hard line of his lean body is pressed against you…the length of him against the curve of your bottom.

At least someone is having a good time. 

Even like this from behind, you can tell it’s something to be reckoned with. The thought fills you with an inconvenient bloom of heat, your body betraying you while skipping into the darkness with a song. Your own reaction to him almost makes you angrier than his own actions.

“What the fuck, John?” You strain against him again, naturally, to no avail. He doesn't taunt you, just holds you immobile, and you are a butterfly against a hurricane. 

“Calm down.” 

“Then let me go.” 

You feel him breathe in the scent of your hair behind your ear, before releasing a shuddering sigh.

“We’re in a predicament, y/n.”

“No shit.”

“I think after what you saw...you know I can't let you go.” 

Oh, what's a little quadruple homicide between friends? 

You have the sense to keep this to yourself, at least.

“I won't say anything.” 

“Uh huh.”

“I didn't say anything about the guys in the van.” 

“Well, you didn't have any real evidence then. Just suspicion.” 

“But...you so killed those guys in the van.” 

There’s a long pause before he finally admits, “Yeah.”

You’re not sure why that makes you try to struggle again. It’s just as fruitless as before.

“Who were those guys you killed?” 

You are met with silence. “In Venice?”

Jesus, do you actually have to clarify with this man?

“They were not nice people, y/n.”

“I gathered that. But... who were they?” 

John sighs against you, and you take some heart as you feel his grip loosen slightly so he’s not absolutely crushing you. “They were enforcers for the Camorra crime syndicate.”

“And...why did they have such a problem with you?” 

“Bad blood, from an old job I did in Rome.”

A job. You’ve seen enough movies to know what that means. He really was a hitman. Jesus H Christ.

“You thought they wouldn't want revenge, if you went back to Italy?” 

“I had to risk it.” 

“Did you?” 

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

You’re baiting him, but you just can’t help it. You’re angry, and you’re sore, and he’s pinning you down like you’re just a feather and you do not fucking like it.

You feel him growl behind you, and fuck you if the low vibration does not strike some primal cord in your body, something left over from the time when your ancestors still lived in caves.

He moves so fast you have no chance to take advantage, turning you so that you are laying chest to chest. His erection presses into your hip, and he pins you with those beautiful dark eyes boring down into yours. It takes every iota of self-control you possess not to spread your legs so that he can settle into the cradle of your hips, where you fear he would fit so very well. 

He traps your small hands above your head with just one of his, using the other to hold the side of your face, keeping your attention on him. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t, but you are finding you like it when he touches you like this, like he is your master and you are his pretty little doll to manipulate how he pleases.

Your eyes close, just for a moment, before you force yourself to keep them open. Keep your eye on the danger, a voice in your head tells you. 

A less helpful voice suggests that you just give in and let him fuck you silly. 

You ignore that one, for now. 

“Because,” he grouses with a scowl. “I was afraid you’d meet some handsome dipshit your own age, and…move to fucking Argentina!”

You don’t know where you get the pluck to frown back up at him. This poor, dear, deranged man.

“John…”

Do you know how crazy you sound?

You don't dare say it out loud. 

Maybe it would have been smart to try to win points by assuring him you were coming back to him. It was even 100 percent the truth at the time. But something spiteful in you doesn’t want to offer him that declaration now. You feel like he lost his right to it.

That laser-like stare shifts from your eyes to your mouth, a moment before descending to press his lips to yours. His lips are soft, but the kiss is nothing less than possessive. Even so, you have to fight not to let him lull you with his clever mouth and the tantalizing slide of his tongue. 

A fresh wave of anger hits you, because you want this. You want him, and he could have had you so easily, without having to…what? Stalk you? Take you?

You realize you don't even know where you are. 

All this accumulates in you in the matter of a second, and you express this frustration by clamping his lip between your teeth. It's more a warning, than anything. You do not draw blood, but you bite hard enough to make him pause. 

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” It’s almost funny, the way he sounds talking around his lip in your teeth. Yet somehow, he still manages to sound absolutely menacing.

“Or what?” you challenge. “Are you going to hurt me, John?”

Yes, taunt the man you saw kill four people easy as pouring a bowl of cereal.

“No. But I will punish you. Remember that, as we go forward.” 

You let him go, thinking on that.

It makes a chill run down your spine.

He tries to kiss you again, but you turn your face away. 

“Please let me up.” 

He is silent and still as the mountain, for long enough that you don’t think he will. You imagine he’s weighing his options, and you know as well as he does that he holds all the cards in his oh-so-capable hands. He could finally take you, like this, and you couldn’t stop him. As fucked up as it is…you’re not even sure you wouldn’t enjoy it, and you battle with yourself not to squirm beneath him in this fucked up stew of fear, desire, and anticipation.

That will not help your cause, you know.

He surprises the hell out of you when finally he agrees, “I will, if you promise to be calm.”

“I’m cool as a fucking cucumber.”

He ducks to huff a laugh into the bend of your neck. You feel it stir your hair more than hear it. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your pulse that makes you flush, a spear of longing jetting through you, and you barely manage not to wrap your legs around his narrow hips.

This man. It’s just not fucking fair.

Then he sucks, hard enough to hurt, and you know there will be a bruise.

He’s fucking marking you.

“I’m serious.”

You breathe in as deeply as you can with his solid, delicious weight piled on you, and let it out slow. “I’m good. Please, let me up.”

Though you can tell he’s reluctant to do it, very slowly he shifts his weight from you, rolling onto his back at your side. You sit up, pushing off the covers, and find the room is spinning slightly.

What the fuck did he drug you with?

You look around. The room is painted in dark shades, the ceiling vaulted high. Bookshelves take up the wall behind the bed.  A bank of windows affords a view of the woods beyond. You are up high, the second story, at least.

You recognize these woods, and the feeling of this interior. 

“Are we back in fucking Clear Forks?”

“Yes. We’re safe here.”

You blink down at him. He sounds almost reasonable now, and maybe the fact that he let you up makes you think you can reason with him.

“John…you have to let me go.” 

“Can't.” 

“You have to.” 

He just shakes his head. 

“So...what? You're going to keep me locked up here forever?” 

He licks his lips, pressing them in thought as he choses his next words. “Until... we've reached an understanding. That might take a while.” 

You stare down at him, open mouthed.

“John...you can't just keep me here.” 

“I can, actually.” He just looks at you with his hands behind his head, resembling for all the world a lazy lion on the plain, deadly but at ease like it's not your entire life he's casually high jacking for his own gratification. Then strangely he looks away, as though he actually is embarrassed about something, letting out a slow breath. “And...I want to.” 

“What?”

His gaze returns to yours, his glittering black eyes sharp and as obsidian. “I. Want. You. To stay here with me. I need you.” 

God damn if hearing him say those words doesn't make your traitor of a heart go pitter pat pat.

Keeping your eyes on him as though you are in bed with a tiger, you slide off the edge, your legs jelly beneath you. How long have you been out? What did he drug you with? Your mouth is so dry. Maybe you should be grateful he didn’t hit you to knock you out, at least. That’s never so nice and neat as it is in the movies.  

You're still wearing your same little pink sundress from Italy, which maybe is a little heartening, not that it provides much protection. 

Your heart in your throat, you want to run mad circles around the room yelling, banging on the windows and rattling the doors. Instead you make yourself stay calm as you look around, checking your options, not caring if John is watching.

You don't care, because deep down, you already know it's hopeless. He's not a stupid man. You inspect the door, finding no door handle, no lock that could be picked. There is simply a keypad and what looks like a fingerprint scanner. You notice it is mounted high over your head, so it would be hard for you to access even if somehow you managed to render him unconscious. 

You knock on the window with your fist, just for the hell of it. 

“Ballistic grade, bullet proof. Good luck.”

He sounds so bored about it, like it's not a big deal that his armored glass stands between you and your freedom. Yet, you doubt the glass was originally for your benefit.

“Bulletproof, in case the Camorra come for you?”

“Them, or others. I’ve made a few enemies over the years.”

You’re not proud that this freaks you out a little.

“And you really think you’re safe here?”

“So far, so good…”

You glare at him over your shoulder, and damn him for looking utterly scrumptious while being such an asshole.

He's wearing a black henley and sweatpants, and he's still the most beautiful man you've ever seen. You could write sonnets about the little strip of pale flesh exposed between his hem and his waistband.

Despite how fit he is, you notice his tummy is just a little soft. It's endlessly endearing, and in different circumstances you would have delighted in pressing your lips to that line of dark hair, and pulling down his sweatpants with your teeth…

You realize you are staring, and with cheeks aflame you avert your gaze. You notice he’s smirking at you, and it makes you mad all over again, your fists clenching at your sides.

He seems to find this amusing as hell.  

“You don’t have to look away,” he coaxes, surprisingly gentle. “I like it, that you like my body.”

You huff indignantly, inevitably remembering how adamantly he’d prevented you from undressing him, what feels like a lifetime ago now. “Then why wouldn’t you let me see you?”

“That was…different.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t think you were ready. I didn’t want to scare you.”

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “Gee, are your guns that big, Mr. Wick?”

This wins you a small laugh, and only belatedly do you realize how sick it is that you’re joking around with him again.

This is not normal. This is not normal. This is not normal.

You have a feeling it’s going to have to become your new mantra.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he says enigmatically. It makes the hairs stand up all over your body, even as your idiotic nether regions clench with desire at the thought.

You have got to get out of here.

“Aren’t they going to think it’s weird I just disappeared without a trace from the hostel?” you pose.

“Probably not. You collected your things, and you paid in full.”

Of course he’d taken care of that.

Then the scope of this coup really dawns on you. 

“You clever motherfucker. No one will even look for me here, because they think I'm in Europe for weeks more.” 

He lifts an eyebrow at you. 

“You have a filthy fucking mouth, my dear. I'd watch that, if I were you.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, but don't push your luck just yet. 

“But no, no one will be looking for you. Your family and your friends are so busy...”

You close your eyes against his cruel—but perfectly accurate—words. My, how the truth cuts deep.

His tone softens as he tells you, “You don't need them, y/n. You have me. And I promise I'll take care of you.” 

You don’t bother to argue again that you don’t need taking care of. You’re beginning to anticipate his answers, and it’s like arguing with a stone wall.

You’ll need a different tack, you think.

Agitated, you stalk to the next door in the room, flinging it open. It’s a walk-in closet, filled with his clothes, and you realize, clothes for you as well. They’re cute, and to your taste, the bright colors an almost comical contrast to his monochromatic wardrobe. But they’re more expensive than anything you can usually afford. They’re all your size.

Your heart sinks to your feet as you realize this means he’s actually been planning this for a while. 

The next door is half cracked. You push it all the way open.

To say that it's a bathroom seems like an understatement. All dark marble and black cabinetry, there are two sinks and a long countertop, a walk-in rain shower that could fit 6, and a tub that could be mistaken for a small swimming pool. The corners are accented with lush houseplants, ferns and philodendron. It looks wonderful, and you’re furious all over again, because you can't fucking enjoy it like this. 

“Why?” you spit, whirling. Only to start when you find him standing right there behind you. You didn't hear a thing. “Why did you have to do it this way?” With him standing so close, you find your words lose some of their intended venom. 

He crowds you against the doorjamb, lifting a hand to your face again.

“Because I was afraid you wouldn't come back to me.” 

This tall, powerful man sounds ridiculously vulnerable just then. 

But like flipping a switch, he frowns, his long fingers resting lightly around your throat. A chill runs down your spine, and you're sure he can feel your pulse in your neck speeding against his fingers. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t hurt you. Just…holds you, and you are ever so aware that you are at his mercy.

“You ran away from me,” he accuses.

Maybe your sense of self-preservation is a little broken.

“I can't imagine why.” You punctuate it with an eyeroll, and suddenly you find yourself pushed into the wall with a hand spread over your chest, the ridges of the jamb biting into your spine. His thumb presses over your lips, preventing you from speaking further. 

“That fucking mouth of yours.” 

Before you can blink he is on you, pressing his lips to yours in a punishing kiss that leaves you weak in the knees. Maybe you start to slump down the wall, but he wraps you up in his arms, holding you up effortlessly. 

“This is how it's going to be,” he pants, his forehead pressed to yours. You get the sense that he is on the verge of losing control, and you are on pins and needles, wanting to know what that would be like, and fearing it too.

You fear it a lot.

“You can run that sassy mouth of yours all you want, but I will enjoy disciplining you for it every time. You might want to start thinking before you speak.”

“You want to hurt me.” 

Tears fill your eyes at the thought of it. Maybe you’re a little broken yourself, after seeing him kill people, but this is the thing that really makes you cry. Of course he probably has some kind of fucking red room around here filled with restraints and whips and toys you've never even fucking heard of… 

“No, baby. I never want to hurt you.” 

You don't believe him in the slightest. 

With a big hand on your jaw he turns your face up to look at him. “Please don't cry.” 

“Then don't do...whatever the fuck this is! You fucking kidnapped me, John!”

“I took what's mine,” he insists in a dark tone that makes inexplicable heat flood between your legs. “You forced my hand.”

It’s all your fault, of course.

“Did you really think I was just going to follow you after all that?”

He cants his head as he looks down at you, his dark hair swinging into his eyes. Your fingers itch to brush it away, and you hate the way the sight pangs deep in your chest. You shouldn’t feel anything for him, after what he’s done—your heart has not gotten the memo, it seems.

“You asked me not to let you go.”

Motherfucker took that literally, it seems.

The ironic thing is, you’d 300 percent meant what you said, at the time.

“I did not sign up for this,” you insist anyway.

“I’ve tried to warn you…since the moment we met,” he tells you. “But you just kept coming back. And now…I need you, y/n. I love you, and I’m never going to let you go.”

What a ridiculous creature you are, that hearing this moves you to the marrow of your bones, makes you almost sick with a medley of triumph and remorse, desire and fear. You’d so determinedly pried open the lid of this Pandora’s box with the dogged insistence of your affection; look at what a marvelous horror you unleashed. Mr. Wick: your very own monster made of dark need and twisted devotion.

This is all so…crazy.

Yet...he doesn't seem like he's crazy. Just absolutely, unmovingly, resolute in his conviction. And right now, that conviction involves his possession of you. 

You close your eyes against his gaze boring a hole through you. Your voice barely lifts above a whisper, your strength suddenly sapped. “I could have loved you.”

It’s a lie, of course.

A lie, because you are already hopelessly, totally in love with this man, despite what he’s done to you, and despite everything you’ve seen him do.

You’ve seen the other side of his coin, you know how sweet and wonderful he can be. Where is that man when you need him? Once upon a time, he absolutely was your safe space, your protector, someone you could turn to when you truly had no one else.

Now, who would protect you, from him?

 It breaks your heart, because you fear the answer is that no one can.  

“You will love me, y/n,” he insists without a hint of doubt. To be so certain...of anything. He brushes your hair behind your ear with such tenderness you could weep.

A single tear does escape from the corner of your eye. He catches it on the pad of his finger, bringing it to his lips. 

“It will be alright, y/n. I've got you.” 

That is exactly what you're afraid of. 

[therandomartmaker]

(In Case I Don’t See You) Good Afternoon, Good Evening and Goodnight.

DPxDC

After a reveal, things go strange for Danny. At first, he thinks it’s just the lingering effects of having his vigilante identity out in the open. Sam and Tucker tell him he’s being paranoid, and Jazz doesn’t talk much with him because she’d left for college. She only listens to his words and talks him through the feelings, a steady presence.

It’s then that he realises that his ghosts had been showing up… regularly. Not erratic and randomly, they were almost scheduled; he’d checked once, and they had always shown up when the time was even. He’d said this to Sam and Tucker, Tucker looked concerned but Sam brushed him off. “They’d have to coordinate for that, Danny,” she said, “Do you really think Skulker wouldn’t take every chance possible to fight you?”

His ghosts were getting more agitated. It wasn’t hard to defeat them, they were just. Angrier. They also went down easier, but got back up faster. They also were disjointed in their banter, and it got worse as time went by, fights quieter and more… emotion filled.

It’s only when Danny spots several white vans nearby his fights that he realised he’d forgotten about the GIW.

Danny rushed home, to the portal- he’s unlucky, or perhaps rather fortunate, that he stumbles upon the GIW in his home, talking to his parents. It’s an easy decision to turn invisible.

“Keeping Patient Zero in the Truman cage is working well, but it might be catching on. Unscheduled fights give us more subjects, so you’ll be lent Subject-E and Subject-SK in two days, in the private laboratory, as they are currently useless in field and hinder the process.”

Patient Zero? Subject-E and Subject-SK? Useless? What process?

Truman Cage? …Danny knew that movie. Watched it with Jazz a few years before, because Jazz had a project on it, wanted to do inquiry on unethical ‘imprisonment’ and isolation.

Static buzzed through the air, and Danny heard the GIW agent pick up an ecto-proof walkie talkie. “Report, Patient Zero has been missing for two minutes, unknown whereabouts, may be heading or already at FW Household.”

Danny swore mentally, flying away to the roof of the Nasty Burger, still invisible.

Shit. What were they doing- what kind of shit had they already done?

…What could Danny do to stop it?

—

Batman stared at the report in his hands. Phase One of the Ghost Investigation Ward’s plan was going well, to capture and learn everything they can about ectoplasmic beings and a ‘villainous creature’ that has taken control of a small town in Illinois. Supposedly, the ‘creature’ was a volatile destructive being that repeatedly put the town through constant attacks.

Everything about it smelt fishy, and he’d found about the ‘GIW’ was flimsy, and a strangely large amount of money was being siphoned into it. The Fenton research being used was also something that shouldn’t’ve been published, biased and clearly contradictory in areas.

The information blockout was just asking for investigation.

sorry that this isn’t more for the story! I may write more for this, but idm this being used as a prompt post either! If you respond to this in a separate post, please tag me, i like to see what y’all make, don’t just link this post and run y’all. Also, i’m like 80% sure someone’s made this already or at least done something similar, so if someone could find and link that, that’d be awesome

On a side note; some notes for this specific thing, but freedom is encouraged and this is mainly for myself because ik i’ll forget about this.

The GIW learnt danny’s id before the reveal and figured out very quickly that they wouldn’t be able to do anything to him because he’s legally human and he hasn’t had biological testing to make sure he isn’t human. They got ghost confirmation via the fenton parents after the public reveal, but had already informed the fentons of the possibility of danny being a ghost and proposed the ‘Truman Plan’ to them.

The plan was to set up another ghost portal with coordinates set to the same area the fenton’s portal lets out and recapture whichever ghosts danny lets go there, and this works exponentially well. They gain a bunch of speech capable ghosts to experiment on, and decide quickly that they’d start ways to put them under control and make them stronger, in order to, eventually, capture danny.

Phase Two is weakening Danny and looking into his skillset and how to counteract it.

Phase Three is actually capturing Danny.

Danny figures out that the GIW has agents everywhere, bugs everywhere and nowhere is safe. The only people he is absolutely certain he can trust to not make the GIW aware he knows he’s entrapped is Jazz, Sam, And Tucker, but since the last tw oare in the bounds of the GIW, he can only talk to Jazz to plan (he flies up up up and calls because tucker had them up on a private network so the only risk was being overheard, really)

B only discovered the GIW while passing over recent government records, and sets up one of his disguises to visit the town, eventually.

He ‘just so happens’ to be bowled over by Danny Fenton one afternoon and sets up a white noise generator to tell the boy the JL was on his side. After all, something wasn’t right, here.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Aemond HCs

mix of sfw and nsfw ofc 

Warnings: 18+ my attempt at hcs 🫣 , mention of drugs, sexual themes

Authors Note: these are just my thoughts and opinions, if they vary from what you think that’s totally ok!!! so with that im not starting each thing with ‘i think’ im just speaking it into existence 🙂‍↕��🤗

Word Count: 500 -  if i end up adding more ill update this and prob just self reblog or something

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   sfw 

never understood why he didn’t get a dragon egg - caused a lot of resentment from a young age 

hated that rhaenyra’s kids got eggs - and love

he would go back to his chambers and cry after watching his brother and nephews train with their dragons  

needs to be the best at everything 

needs to know everything - will never admit to not knowing something 

will info dump about things he finds interesting

if he’s wrong he’s actually not 🙂

when he gets really angry he cries - and then gets even angrier 

claiming vhagar is his most proud moment - which was then overshadowed by his eye being taken - this was the night it was really solidified that viserys didn’t care about him (‘your king demands an answer’ don’t even get me fkn started!!!!!!!!!!) 

is vain fs - that hair is laid the waist is cinched - like man literally has a whole gem in his eye 

has other gems for his eye but wears the sapphire the most bc his mom gave it to him after he healed 

loves his mom but thinks she’s weak - he sees her in himself 

prides himself on his strength 

clean and neat 

everything in his chambers has a place 

hated you at first bc he thought you were perfect 

wants you to watch him train but won’t ask you 

brings you books he thinks you’ll like 

offers to read to you 

shows you vhagar and blushes when you shower him with compliments of how brave he was 

   nsfw

a secret switch - lucky you if you unlock sub!aemond

missionary and doggy only

but first time he lets you ride him he’s a changed man 

jealous fucking 

spanking

choking 

will tie you to his headboard 

overall just destroys you in bed

then gives you kisses and reads to you while you soak in a bath

modern additions: 

   sfw

has so many eye patches but only wears his all black one 

wears sunglasses in place of the eye patch from time to time 

fkn scifi nerd 100% 

also getting pc gamer vibes??

finds a lot of comfort seeing ppl w eye scars in his fav movies - and how all the girls react to it - but doesn’t think it applies to him

smokes cigarettes - lowkey hates the habit 

has an anon acct on goodreads and tears apart ‘best sellers’ - he’s always right tho

has both electronic and physical copies of books - prefers physical reading

prefers tea over coffee but still has both everyday 

   nsfw

drugs - just weed and he’s very particular about who he smokes with - will not buy from aegon 

orders toys and restraints online bc he doesn’t want to go into the store 

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masterlist 🔌 

i couldve went on w this forever

taglist ✍️

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[ashc-from-ao3]

Trouble with a Vulcan

Spock x female reader

Spock was sitting on his t'hy'la's couch waiting for her to return, the enterprise crew was on a two week shore leave and (name) had decided to make the most of it. She went back to her home town to enjoy the scenery, the town was a small rural community and little trouble came it's way. So when (name) said she was going out for a walk only moments before he thought nothing of it. He snooped around for something to do until she returned and came apon her dvd's of old earth movies and shows. Most he deemed illogical but one seemed to hold a value in his sharp mind. Jeopardy. The viewer gained knowledge from watching and knowledge to a vulcan was always exciting. He put in the first disc and sat back.

-----(name)'s pov-------

(name) Was smiling brilliantly the young woman bounced along the streets reacquainting herself with the town. She was walking down a alleyway when a large thuggish man stepped out of the shadows. She went to turn around but her path was cut off by another man.

"Well hello darling. What is a thing like you doing all by yourself?" (name) tried to go past the first man but she was knocked to the ground and her vision blurred before she blacked out

-----spock's pov------

Spock had sat through four episodes of jeopardy, he knew most of the answers and only two were unknown to the half vulcan. He was now starting to worry about (name) she had been gone two hours. The town was not that large, she should be back. He was just getting ready to search for her when the door slammed open, it closed just as quick and the deadbolt was turned into place with a heavy *thunk* followed by a second *thunk* signalling the locking of the other lock. Spock reached the door and saw (name) slumped on the ground. Her hair was matted with mud and blood. Her cloths wear torn and she had several bleeding scrapes and rapidly forming bruises. She was panting and shaking, spock made it over to her faster than he ever had before. He helped to to stand and held her at arm's length

" (name) what happened?" (name) whimpered and tried to snuggle into spock but he held her away from him so he could observe her,

"I went down a alleyway and some men......." (name) trailed off unable to answer, instead she looked up at Spock hoping to find anger in his gaze, anger towards her attackers at least . She knew of the precision driven power in her boyfriend's body and she would love to see him vulcan nerve pinch the two men. However when she gazed at him, he showed nothing not a flicker of concern,anger or even pity...nothing. Since they had started dating Spock had been more lenient with his emotions around (name),he was still as logical as ever but he let her see the human side he so often tried to hide from others. The fact he showed no emotions scared her.

"So you feel nothing after hearing that your girlfriend was attacked? Not a sliver of anger? NOTHING?" The woman was horrified by the fact Spock was still unresponsive. She removed her arms from his still frozen grasp,unlocked the door and fled going to the one place she felt she would be safe, her best friend scotty's house. She flung open the door and fell sobbing into the engineers arms as she explained what happen. Scotty's face did contort in anger and the Scotsman started swearing in his thick accent, that only got thicker as he got angrier .

Meanwhile Spock had finally managed to compute that someone who was not him had dared to touch what was his dared to harm what was clearly marked as his. He was logical and calculating and when it came to the bedroom he was just as thorough when giving (name) love bites around her neck as he was when saving the enterprise from one of kirk's hair brained schemes. The bites clearly stated she was his, his to touch and no one else's. Anger finally came though quickly followed by worry and then confusion as (name) was no where to be found. He quickly thought of the other members of the enterprise crew who she would go to. He searched each crew members house down to places where she would never get to and then he finally figured it out, Mr.Scott! (Name) and Mr,Scott wear close she would definitely go to him in a time of need.

Spock frantically banged on Mr.Scott's door and when he opened it the Scotsmen knew instantly what was up.

"Mr.spock, she asked me not to let you in but I can see you need to speak to each other." Mr, Scott moved aside and pointed at the closed bathroom door.

"Cleaning up" was his only explanation. Spock needed no more promoting and. Instantly he was by the door.

"T'hy'la? You you there? I must speak with you about my actions." He heard a muffled Russian swear,curtesy of Chekov and Scotty drinking nights, followed by a soft sigh, he held his breath hoping she would for once be logical about her actions and let him explain. She was. (name) opened the door carefully and dressed in only her undergarments and a oversized bathrobe. She sighed heavily and dragged him into the bathroom.

"T'hy'la I mu-" Spock was cut off by her placing her hand on his mouth before she lent forward and kissed him

"Spock it's okay, I was over emotional and I overreacted. I couldn't expect you to fully understand what I said in the four seconds I gave you. I am sorry I reacted very unlogically." Spock looked at (name) and enveloped her in a comforting hug

"You never react logically, it is one of the reasons I love you."he whispered as he gently drew his large hands up and down her back and sides in a comforting action. Eventually (name) started calming and she giggled happily at having her vulcan back in her arms and being back in his.

(name) leaned up and kissed Spock with all the passion and love she could muster, Spock quickly returned the kiss and his hands had started to roam over the woman's tiny body, suddenly a loud "ahem" broke the couple apart. (name) Flushed red and Spock's face was flushed as well Scotty stood in the doorway of the bathroom a smug grin on his face.

"Now I am glad ye are back togetha but could ye please do that at home?"

(name) Name smiled and leaned into Spock as he wrapped his arms around her protectively he leaned his head by her ear and whispered

"It would be illogical to continue this with someone watching but we will most certainly continue this later."

[arkhamknightz]

EXILE

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary; based off this ask right here - in which, spencers watching you move on without him

warnings: language, jealousy ig? super short and bad writing tbh…

notes: i had no clue how to end this im so sorry this is horrible 😭😭

Spencer felt his heart stop as he walked into the small bookstore. It shouldn’t have sent a chill up his spine the way it did. He should’ve expected to see you here one day, you showed him the spot after all. But seeing you here with him, made Spencer feel sick.

His arms were wrapped around you, his chin resting on your shoulder as you held a book in your hands, your finger pointing across the lines on the back of the book. Spencer watched as his mouth moved, a laugh escaping your lips and a smile growing on his.

It had been 3 months since you two broke up, and Spencer hadn’t moved on. Part of him felt hurt that you moved on quicker than he could. But, flashbacks to that night remind him why you did.

Just like a slideshow, he memorized every frame of that night. Neither of you liked raising your voices but but with every word the noise got louder. It was the kind of scene Spencer only saw in movies. Never had he seen an argument like that before then. You wouldn’t be his homeland by the morning. Everyday after that felt longer than the last.

He was out saving people everyday, but he couldn’t save the one relationship that meant most to him? You were his home, the one thing that he always looked forward to when landing back in Virginia. Now, all that was left were memories of you everywhere he looked.

You saw Spencer staring at the bookstore. The bell chimed and you looked up quick enough to see a glimpse of his face, before looking back at the books on the shelves. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your head, the whole time he stood there. The longer you felt his gaze, the angrier you started to feel.

He was the one to cause the breakup. So why was he looking at you the way he was? He had the chance to fix things time and time again, so why didn’t he try harder? You wanted to try everything to fix the relationship, to hold onto it. Spencer was one of the best people you knew. So why wouldn’t he love you the way you deserved?

You watched over and over as the people around you went in and out of relationships. Even after thinking they’d found ‘the one’ but you had never thought it could happen to you and Spencer. He was your crown, you showed off your boyfriend proudly to anyone who would listen.

In the last remaining two weeks of your relationship, fights got more tense, even when he was free off work he never seemed to be present. So much had changed so quickly. You’d seen the long, painful cycle of arguing and arguing for months on end grown to resentment. Even if you would be upset with Spencer, it was better than growing to hate him.

So you left.

He was upset over something you can’t even remember now. Your relationship had been holding on by a few threads the last few weeks and you both knew that. But it still came as a shock to him when you pulled the plug on things. No matter how many tears you both cried that night, it wouldn’t be enough to make you stay.

You wouldn’t listen to Spencer, you wouldn’t listen to his pleads. He blindly couldn’t see the signs. He couldn’t see you both pulling away, he couldn’t see the strain his behavior put on both of you. You were quickly snapped back to reality as you felt his eyes burning into the side of your head.

As you and Spencer finally made eye contact, he swiftly turned around and left. Your boyfriend grasped your hand before asking if you wanted to stop by the bakery across the street when you both were done, the thought of Spencer long gone from your mind.