#fic: showing up at my door
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Apologies
#shadowpeach#six eared macaque#sun wukong#lmk#lego monkie kid#monkey king#liu'er mihou#I just think it'd be neat if they apologized to each other and then cried and hugged about it#(cuz on god they both have some shit they should get off their chests and own up to)#like holy blue hells they're both just like “I think i shall spend my immortal life ruminating on my greatest regret and letting it fester”#everytime i watch the scene where Macaque is like:#“its good to talk about feelings! obv i don't do it”#i turn into the hands on hips guy meme#DUDE GO TO THERAPY#wukong too lets be real#been reading jttw the west (haven't actually gotten to where SEM shows up in the book yet tho)#and i think that if therapy existed back then tripitaka and sha wujing would've been gently but firmly#herding wukong into the local therapist's waiting room in as many towns they pass as possible#he'd probly grab the door frame and have to be literally pried off#these hypothetical ancient-chinese therapists all have claw marks on the hallways and doors going into their offices#hey how about an au where shadowpeach get therapists who end up getting all the monkey drama news first#and end up on the business-rivals-to-drinking-buddies pipeline#stopped while drawing this like “hey why'd i make mac be touching wukong's face in both sketches?”#and then i remembered that between the two mac's the one who wants to be something to the other#to the point of desperation#its like if they're both cats who got coned swk is the one who sits there miserably accepting his fate#while mac is that one video of the tuxedo cat shrieking and trying to paw it off#i'd read the hell out of a fic where they end up swapping attitudes about their dynamic#in canon wukong's the one who seems like he would like to never see mac again (at times) even tho he really regrets it and it hurts#like mac just gives up on trying to convince himself he can make swk see him as a significant part of his life again
76 notes
·
View notes
Text
the chances of tim minear being an ao3 user get higher and higher each time a new episode comes out
#to my author mutuals: be careful out there. you never know when tim might steal all of your ideas and put them in the show#like im sorry but the AMOUNT of fics ive read where buck breaks up w tommy and then immediately runs to eddie? and now its canon?#also i’ll be fully honest and admit that for like two seconds i thought they were gonna make out against the door. THERE I SAID IT#tim minear i know what you are…………. ao3 user buddiestanforeverandever2000#alice talks#911 abc#911 spoilers#tim minear#buddie
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
(alan wake-gravity falls crossover) man i love that character. you know, the deeply paranoid author who made a pact with a dark entity that ultimately ended with him stranded in another dimension separated from his loved ones for years at a time? takes place in the pacific northwest? has twin imagery associated with him and a reoccurring specific piece of symbology related to the unfortunate situation they're in? doesn't ever explain the reasoning behind his actions and instead just kinda goes "bro trust me"? yeah he also wears an outer layer of clothing with elbow pads on it, that one.
#my art#stanford pines#alan wake (the man)#ford pines#gravity falls#alan wake#remedyverse#SAtT au#i am. normal about the crossovers i make up.#what do you mean the esoteric weird horror game about stories and the disney cartoon about family dont have a shared audience. sounds fake.#anyways the comic on the right is in honor of a joke i had to scrap in my fic wip due to a perspective switch.#rip that joke i thought you were pretty funny. i like the idea of alan critiquing his own manuscript pages upon the events happening.#oh i should probably do a warning since theres that crunchy image of the aw2 alan death screen huh. uh#blood#aw2 alan death screen my beloved. literally made me go ''oh god'' out loud in shock and horror when i first saw it#anyways did you know theres an au to this objectively already an au crossover. i call it ''bill cipher gets sent to the shadow realm''#bill doesn't show up a lot in this au he gets one scene where he taunts ford abt alan being a danger#with the implication that the dark place/presence genuinely freaks him out. but in this self indulgence of a self indulgence#alan essentially manages to trick bill into swapping places with him and bill ends up trapped in the writers room/the dark place.#lmao get yötön yö'd idiot. YOU are aleksi kesä now.#also i like the idea of zane and bill meeting as well as door and bill meeting. i think they might scare bill a little bit.#just like how zane scares me <3 what a cool character what the fuck is his deal#also you may be wondering why alans in his aw2 look and not aw or awan look despite the fact that lines up closer#to when gravity falls happens-ish. well the answer to that is 1: the crossover uses a lot of the elements from aw2#and 2: i like alans long hair and suit and beard. i like the pathetic sopping look when his hair is in his face
37 notes
·
View notes
Note
Do you have any vision on the other old folks in the retirement home when mention them through out the series like are they just like you general old folks in a retirement home or is there more like some of them are characters from The Hex I.e the bartender and the boxer’s mom
if you asked me this like three months ago i would say that the other old folks in the home are pretty faceless, with a couple exceptions (anytime i mention a short old person of indeterminate gender wearing thick glasses it’s my old person self-insert lmao)
however, i have deigned to learn of the hex since then. and i do find it very funny to imagine some of those characters knocking around in the background of this inscryption AU.
so feel free to imagine any of the below old folks populating any and all prospective crowd scenes lmao
deter’s silly detail corner below the cut, because i have had a bit of a think about some of these guys for funsies:
reginald is retyrement lionel’s actual grandfather, of course; he was a prolific entrepreneur in bar service before getting in some unspecified trouble with the mob
cooking granny and grimora are on pretty decent terms; bryce is still her grandson and he volunteers food service at the home sometimes
mr. shrewd and mr. squarrel are dating and/or married obviously, being the canon old man yaoi couple lmao; also i’m too sentimental to widow mr. squarrel they get to be happy together. weasel kid is shrewd’s grandson, he’s a massive furry and shrewd doesn’t really get it but he’s supportive
dustbowl danny is retired but he has a side hustle testing arm prosthetics; sometimes he brings them to poe and they’ll have a good laugh over it
rust is your average retired vet, rocky is still his son and comes to visit him a lot; him and danny do not get along
#retyrement au#doot answers#the hex#daniel mullins games#reginald the hex#cooking granny the hex#mr. shrewd the hex#mr. squarrel the hex#dustbowl danny the hex#rust mcclain the hex#hi hex fans#i feel like i'm poking my head into the next door neighbor's yard lmao#highly unlikely any of these folks are going to show up proper in the fic#but i do have a laugh thinking about them sometimes#so this is on the same level of the mycos#in that i'll only draw more if people ask about it lolol
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
only bad thing about being in a fandom where one of the characters canonically has wings is the painful lack of classic wingfic. where is my everything's the same but people have bird wings watford au where one day baz notices simon hasn't been grooming his wings bc of an injury to his ribs so he sits on his bed and makes a whole fuss about how "i'm not doing this to be nice, snow, your wings are just a travesty to look at" and then proceeds to carefully and lovingly tidy his feathers in drawn out silence while they both pretend grooming someone else's wings isn't one of the most intimate things you can do for another person. will this heartbreak never end
#i have an old wingfic that never left the zero draft stage and it was suuuper fucking plotty#simon was still the chosen one in it but not in a weird sex magic kinda way like he was just home grown like that so no humdrum#so lucy is alive and he grew up with her and the mage (and they have a dog!) (simon named her ''little simon'' lmfao)#meanwhile baz isn't a vampire but natasha still died when he was five bc ok i don't know how to explain the lore behind this#bc it has to do with a skeevy blackmarket trade involving human wings like it was kinda dark ngl#but the long and short of it is that baz and tasha are kidnapped and tasha is killed keeping baz safe but baz's wings are damaged#pretty severely and so one of them never grows to full size and it leaves him flightless#n e way simon and baz don't get on bc the mage is still the mage and the old families are still the old families#but they are roommates as usual#and half-term their eighth year pitch manor is raided by blackmarket poachers and mordelia is kidnapped and the whole grimm family is#in shambles so baz goes right to simon about it and there's this reverse of the simon-showing-up-at-baz's-door scene#where baz shows up at simon's door a complete WRECK to ask for help getting his sister back#and simon is like. why are you asking ME for help?#and baz is like. bc you're the only one i know who can#and then they fucking steal one of the mage's cars and hit the road [so good right now by fall out boy starts playing]#and then it's just kind of a normal mission fic about them finding mordelia and saving her life and baz falls out a very high window#and simon catches him etc.#i love wingfics so much#sighs wistfully#i think i need to be alone w my gdocu for while#valen and the void
20 notes
·
View notes
Photo
6.09 Dog Eat Dog
#csiedit#csi cbs#nick stokes#george eads#george eads thirst club#mk.op#mk.gifs#mk.edit#csi 6x09#so interestingly i will dream of nick in various hairstyles#like a few weeks ago he was bearded#i'm pretty sure i've had a bald nick dream#had the late season 13 look show up once#but last night for just a few seconds#this appeared#he was dressed in a trenchcoat and entering a door?#but then when he showed up again later in my dream he was uh...different#i might write a fic about it but idk
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
||. thor misunderstanding earthen housing norms in the modern day is SO funny to me to think about. He's doing his best, but between being from another planet with far more advanced technology (and much more "archaic" culture customs) on top of also being a PRINCE, I would imagine some normal practices and understandings of things simply don't click with him more than others.... Not because he's not smart. Thor is incredibly intelligent. ONLY because of the huge culture divide. But... that said: the concept of having neighbors who own their own land right next to yours, but the plots of land are TINY ??? absolutely crazy to him. Why aren't the plots of land BIGGER? why don't more people utilize it to farm crops???
Also don't get him STARTED on the idea - or nature of - apartments.
#(it's just— i'm realizing that living with jan.e fo//st.e.r would have taught him SO much??)#(i can imagine him questioning everything about /everything/ on occasion...)#(just... ja/.ne and th.o/r chilling around breakfast and he decides he's got a severe case of the toddler why's)#(he's curious about a common practice and wants to understand the logic of it— who better to make it make sense than his beloved)#(even something as basic as a house key. why does he NEED that? he's never needed a “house key” for his palace)#(he can just /walk in/??? ask the guards to open the doors??? use a biometric lock??? )#(— ah but is the “house key” for a secret compartment perhaps? a hidden passage? a secret chest???)#(what's the house key for if not for something particularly worthwhile??? it's so archaic ?? it must be very old.)#(what??? it was made yesterday??? It actually /IS/ for the front door????)#(what do you /mean/ you haven't got guards or sentries and the po-lice can't offer THEIR services with compensation)#(the avenger's tower does it??? shield does it???? he thought that would be normal for earth houses???)#(he doesn't see how that's supposed to keep j.a//ne safe all that well >> he's decided he's going to fix /that/ first thing.)#(granted: i doubt he'd actually ask or comment most of this out loud but it'd likely be what he's thinking)#(anyways he wouldn't /use/ the key when he has a balcony they can just keep unlocked so he can get in from there)#(and he'd probably have a similar setup on the avengers tower)#(it isn't as though anyone will reach it from up so high. he can fly. it'll be fine.)#(furthermore ...... he'd probably break his house keys....)#(...always on accident tho.... he'd want to keep his house key from ja.n//e safe bc it's from her)#( ooc . ) — stories that leap from the page .#(i'm mostly rambling my thoughts out loud - this would make a really cute domestic fos.ter/s//on fic)#(someone write this and then show me)#(or maybe i'll do it idk)
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
⭐️A Little More Space🌙
Dando/Landan Angst
[A singular swear word other than that its safe 👍][One of my first f1 fics so if there's any inaccuracies I apologise 🙏]
The faint noises from the TV were interrupted by a knock from Lando's hotel room door. It was the night after the Sao Paulo Grand Prix. Both McLaren drivers got DNF'ed. As expected; Zak Brown got upset, as well as the two drivers.
Lando put his bag of Ruffles' onto the bed and went over to answer the door. As he pulled open the door, a tall, bearded man revealed himself. To his surprise, Daniel was standing infront of him.
But he seemed off.
His plastered smile wasn't on his face. His eyes were red. Puffy. And underneath them, dark eyebags.
"Lando, Can I.. be with you.. for a bit," Daniel's voice was anything other than his usual voice in the paddock. It was the total opposite of confident, loud and enthusiastic. At that moment, his voice sounded shaky and quiet.
In a heartbeat, Lando invited him in and poured him a glass of water. The both of them sat on the bed with the blankets covering their shins.
"So, what's this all about mate?" Lando asked, giving the Aussie a pat on the thigh. Daniel swallowed before he spoke out.
"I just wanted to say.. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for dragging the team down, dragging you down, making you carry the both of us-" Daniel's eyes became glossy as he spoke.
"Danny.." Lando murmured under his breath.
"- I don't know what happened today. I accidentally bumped into Mick's rear wing and managed to spin out the track! You already had the food poisoning to worry about then I just had to make you worry even more!-" Hot tears began streaming down the Aussie's face.
"Daniel.." Lando gripped onto the older's thigh.
"To make things even worse; it's your fuckin' birthday week! What kind of good friend am I to be such a burden to you? Am I right?" In an attempt to sneak in a joke, Daniel started to sob even harder.
Lando placed his arm over Daniel's shoulder and pulled him in closer. The Brit played with the Aussie's curls as he dug his face into his shoulder.
"I don't want to leave you, Lando. I don't want to leave this sport. I want to keep going, to prove that I'm much better than this."
"Oh Daniel, mate.. Zak is an idiot to be kicking you out the team. I know you have more in you. You know it too."
The older put his head up and looked into Lando's eyes. He gave him a small smile. Daniel placed his head onto the younger's lap.
"Can you.. sing for me? One last time-" Daniel got interrupted.
"Don't say that. That 'L' word. I despise it."
Lando bent over to let his lips touch the Aussie's. It was a short yet sweet kiss. They intertwined fingers as they stared lovingly into each others' eyes. Lando cleared his throat.
"The doctor wrote me my prescription, had a taste I was addicted."
Lando played with the older's curls again.
"Ate the candy that was given to me, bittersweet.."
Daniel cleared his throat.
"Walked to the beat of my heart."
The Aussie began fiddling with their fingers.
"Got me a shot with the stars.." The Brit chimed in.
"Now I can't help wishing for a little more space." Lando continued.
"Followed the path that I saw, I'd pay whatever the cost." Daniel added, covering the tears trinkling down his cheeks with his sleeve.
"Now the only thing I can afford is, a little more.." Lando trailed off. Daniel's hics and sniffling caused the younger to hold the older's hand to his lips.
"Thank you, Danny. I'll never regret ever meeting you in F1. I'll never not think about you next year. I'll never forget you." Lando talked into his palm. Daniel let out small noises from under his sleeve. Lando picked it up to see Daniel's face again.
His lashes were now sprinkled with tears. Eyes redder and puffier. But now, with a smile on his face.
"And most importantly, I'll always love you." Lando kissed Daniel on the forehead.
"Je t'aime." Daniel's voice was husky from the crying but the Aussie's accent was still distinct.
"Mon aussi, mon Aussie." Daniel let out a chuckle at Lando's reply.
As the sun began to set, the two of them could only hope that Daniel would be granted a miracle and get a 2023 seat. But at that moment, they could only hope that the night never ends. That they could stay together for as long as they wanted.
#daniel ricciardo#lando norris#Dando#Landan (??)#f1 rpf#a man on the verge of crying shows up at your hotel room door#what do you do??#fanfic#One of my first f1 rpf fics have mercy#okie byee
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
I've kinda seen some pushback to the idea of representation in media and I don't necessarily think it's bad to point out actual rights are more important than Disney's thousandth first gay character that's fine, but I've had a LOT of people comment on my works about asexual characters and tell me what I wrote changed their life-and it's always that phrase- because they now have the language to describe what they feel. I've had people who ARENT ace or aro comment that what I wrote finally made a concept they didn't understand make sense, or that the way I explained things was interesting and enlightening and I'm kind of a mediocre writer who hasn't written anything in ages.
Like idk, if reading something from a writer who is fucking around and only somewhat talented can genuinely impact someone because they've not seen anything like them reflected back at them in life or media I don't think pushing for representation in media is as "needless" as some people seem to think and caring about that doesn't mean you don't care about more "important" (although if you think seeing people like you in media ISNT important it's because you already have that representation or are privileged enough to not care if you do, in which case maybe pipe down) stuff. Hell, I even got a Facebook message ages ago from someone who found a comment I left in an ace group about QPR's and what they meant to me and how I perceived them and the person no joke said what I wrote two years before they even found it changed their life forever because they finally knew what kind of relationship they actually wanted.
So like sure, of course there's always bigger fish to fry them diversity in media (you know, like diversity in real life lol) but I don't think it's as frivolous as some people are beginning to act like it is. At least not if you're an aspec person it's not, I STILL don't see ace characters almost ever and I'll bet my whole everything if I asked a writer of a show why they'd tell me that EVERYONE has to be in a sexual relationship and characters that aren't won't sell and are boring- I say this because in film school I had a teacher TELL ME every character needed to basically be sex obsessed and when I pointed out a GREAT MANY CHARACTERS are not revolved around sex (Supernatural stars two brothers, I pointed out) and when she asked if I had love interests I was like ??? That doesn't matter- using my aforementioned supernatural example almost all their love interests die or get mind wiped because at the end of the day that's not what the story was about. So actually I think writers who act like that teacher need like 50 reality checks, and representation in stories isn't unimportant and also support indie writers you'll probably find more funky shit there then Disney anyway lmao.
And also even the asexual characters I DO see in media don't remind me at all of myself even if I appreciate the effort, but they never feel real or genuine and their sexuality doesn't get a lot of exploration so 🤷🏻♀️ I actually could use more media focused on characters that I can genuinely see my sexuality reflected in in a meaningful and narratively impactful way because I've got nothing.
#winters ramblings#todd from bojack horseman im sure is SOMEONES version of asexuality but i dont see ANYTHING of myself in him#great character dont get me wrong but not relatable to me on any level including our shared sexuality#sex ed got a bit closer with their brief ace character although maybe she got more exploration in season three or four??#the latest one i havent watched lmao. but being closer and having a moment wjere shes told shes not broken#while DEEPLY vindicating isnt necessarily all im looking for either#like i wamt a REAL character thats ace or aro or both thats written by people who UNDERSTAND what theyre writting#not just well meaning people who dont know what theyre doing its kind of tiring#also idk why theres no dating shows with gay men because reality dating shows are ALL ABOUT who fucks who and who gets together#gay men would be hooking up ALL OVER THE PLACE and the DRAMA youd think reality tv freaks would be SALIVATING#but no none of that lmao. just ru pauls drag race and thats great it is like its not my bag but people love it#back on yrack though the weord blowback representation is getting is strange and its VERY clear to me#the people writing those posts havent gotten dozens on dozens of messages from people like them who found their writing#and haf their life altered forever for the better because someone who KNOWS what theyre talking about wrote a character like them#and it opened doors they never knew existed. doesnt even need to happen with fiction either i had a friend i had in toronto#tell me the info i sent to her on being aromantic changed her life- THAT'S the phrase i keep getting thats TELLING- because it describefld#described** how shes felt her whole life but didnt have words for. how frivolous IS representation if im getting these messages?#not very i dont think if some rsndom indie fic writer who hadnt written anything substantial in years can change someones life#REPEATEDLY might i add. ive been getting a LOT of messages like this lately and seeing this new bramd of discourse latetly too#like maybe YALL have enough that you dont care anymore but speak for your fucking selves
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m just curious if most people tend to sleep facing their door or not. This is mostly for people who sleep alone but if you sleep with another person at night feel free to answer please say in the tags if you don’t sleep alone.
#tumblr polls#polls#oddly specific poll#sleep poll#sleep#the main reason I’m curious is because I wanted an excuse to why I changed a characters room around in my fic#because I imagine them sleeping on a certain side of the bed and it makes no sense in the show for their room to be that way…#but now that I’m thinking about it they ended up falling asleep on that side and now it’s messing with my set up lmao#but maybe it was just an odd night because there was someone else in their bed…now I’m just making excuses#but also I tend to switch sides depending on where I’m sleeping at home I sleep in the right side#but at my parents I sleep on the left cause that’s where the door is and the outlets#I prefer the right side though
4 notes
·
View notes
Note
Set a trap with food in it. It seems to be hungry.
!!! this is a good idea! what food does everyone think a Demon would like?
... aside from human flesh! please don't suggest human flesh
#i don't want to end up on more watchlists than i'm probably already on#comes with the territory of having to look things up for fics#but i'd rather not ACTUALLY have the government show up at my door#until i've caught the Demon#at least!#showfall ask blog#encoreverse#encoreverse blog
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
🤡, 😈, and 💔!
🤡 "What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh?"
the entirety of like a dog, but specifically-
"Hawkeye gives Frank a ‘go on’ look. “He started it!” Frank accuses, the picture of petulance, “He bit me!”
For any single other adult person in this godforsaken war, Henry would laugh at such an accusation.
But this is Hawkeye.
He looks at him. He hopes the ‘please for the love of all that is holy tell me he’s lying’ is obvious in his eyes. “Pierce.” He says.
Hawkeye suddenly finds a loose thread on his sleeve very interesting.
“Pierce,” Henry says again, with feeling, “Did you. Bite. Frank?” He can’t believe he’s asking that of a grown, adult surgeon and not of one of his children. The temptation to drink is rising.
Hawkeye shrugs. “I warned him!” He exclaims, “I told him ‘Frank, if you don’t stop pointing in my face, I’m gonna bite you.’ And he didn’t stop pointing in my face.”
“So you bit him.” Henry fills in the blank, remembering a time when this kind of disappointment was reserved for when one of his girls put chewing gum in the other’s hair.
“So I bit him.” Hawkeye echoes, nodding, with not a hint of remorse."
and-
"“You tasted bad.” Hawkeye informs him.
“Go soak your head.” Frank grouses as he shoves past."
made me laugh very very hard when I put them down. I reread this one whenever I need a good laugh
😈 "Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?"
ending the second chapter of and miles to go before i sleep on a cliffhanger of the emotional high point of the Hawkeye and BJ kiss. I did that purely to be mean and make people yell at me
proceeding to take a month long break from that fic due to god slapping me upside the head with writer's block was NOT part of the plan and I genuinely felt so bad for leaving people hanging on that but my god the writing machine really just BROKE
💔 "Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?"
both leave your roles at the door and what remains, but ill give the shoutout to leave your roles at the door for this one because the reason it breaks my heart is it resonates with a personal area for me for this bit specifically-
"“It should- it shouldn’t’a been him-“ Radar whimpers, “Not- not him, not- ’s not fair-“ Margaret combs her fingers through his hair where it pokes out of his cap as his voice cracks into another sob, “He wasn’t- h-he wasn’t supposed to die, I- I loved him, I love him, he can’t be dead, he can’t-“"
in February of 2022 my Nonna passed away. my Nonna and I were very close, she moved in with my family when I was 8 years old as my Nonno was living full time in the hospital at that point and it wasn't good for her to be alone, and she lived with us for 14 years. she played a large role in raising me, and I loved her and continue to love her very dearly. needless to say, her death, though expected, completely wrecked me
Radar here acts much the same way I did. this bit above specifically is how I felt. she wasnt supposed to die, I loved her, I love her, she cant be dead. I wrote Radar to feel the way I did, and sound the way I sounded- like a little kid who didnt understand. Radar cries like a child here, because I cried like a child. I wrote this from the experience of my own grief, which I sometimes still find myself sitting with, and it broke my heart but... in a good way. it felt cathartic. it felt healing
and then I inflicted the sadness on everyone else cause im an evil fic author and I like making people cry and yell at me for making them feel things
#fic bitching#mash#ty Sarah!#leave your roles at the door is very poetic for me personally#2022 was one of the worst years of my life#if you asked me to name you all the good things I had happen last year#I could probably count them off on one hand#and one of those things was watching MASH#it might seem silly but I was deep in depression and here was this show#that showed humanity in the worst of conditions and showed love and hope persevering#and it felt like it grabbed me by the arms and pulled me up to my feet#and told me that I would be ok#that things were bleak and I was allowed to feel the way I did#but things would get better#because I still had love and hope#sometimes it felt like Hawkeye was giving me a hug#and sometimes it felt like he was clapping me on the back and telling me to make life my bitch#so yeah#felt poetic to sit with some grief and write for this show that means so much to me
2 notes
·
View notes
Photo
sunlight creeps in
world trigger - Jin Yuuichi/Kuga Yuuma - M - 2.6k
Yuuma, Jin, and a late night in Tamakoma. Today's bar is closer to the Tamakoma branch building, and he has a room there to crash in when training runs late, so he figures that he'll just stay there for the rest of the night. He prefers to be closer to his friends, even if they're all sleeping—something about the people he cares about being within reach soothes the part of his brain that is always ready for an attack.
( Read here )
#jinyuu#kicks the door into a new fandom with my butt fully on show#whats up freaks i brought beer#hm ship tag seems to be already used ... but i like this one#jinyuu (wt)#there#fic
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
it's just me and my cake vodka & pepsi against the world
#bailed mandy out and then got to spend over an hour waiting for her piece of shit ex to show up and unlock the door#only for him to say '20 minutes' and then not show up#he read her texts and didn't answer#p sure this is why he was putting off getting her home#he was off doing drugs#mandy is 100% sure and tbh it wouldn't be a first so yeah probably#eventually i called my josh to get the spare key from his mom so mandy could at least get in#btw if you pay bail with a debit card here there is a 9% fucking fee#like my 500$ wasn't enough#here's an extra 25$ for funsies#the guy said its bc they do it through a 3rd party system but jesus fucking christ#we live 15 minutes away btw so my mans did in 15 minutes what her ex couldn't manage in two hours#fuckin reliable#i'm a lucky bitch#josh is asleep now but i've decided to stay up and drink and do.. idk what#catch up on article??#work on my fics??#something else??#who knows!!!#maison speaks
1 note
·
View note
Text
“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k
worst!logan howlett x f!reader
SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.
WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.
A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.
** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.
*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)
**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)
special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever
The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.
Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.
Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you.
Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.”
Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.
The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend.
You:
cutie patootie alert
there’s this really handsome guy at the bar
i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before
i think i’m in love with him
my night just got a 100% better
Allison:
age
what does he look like
is he bald?
You:
he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here
brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong
i didn’t stare at him for too long
otherwise that would’ve been very weird
and no he’s not fucking bald
that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair
Allison:
so you’re dating retired now
get it grandma!
You:
oh fuck you allison
Allison:
it’s okay girl we all have our flaws
just make sure it’s nobody’s father
wait it’s not mine right?
You:
nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it
Allison:
bitch
Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.
“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.
The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”
Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”
Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss.
Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”
The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.
“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”
Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.”
“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”
Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.
“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features.
“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”
(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)
He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.
“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”
“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules.
“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up.
You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.
“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”
Yeah… that you knew.
It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.
As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.
“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.
“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”
“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”
For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”
“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.
“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”
His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”
“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”
“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”
“Look, Wolvie. I–”
“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”
“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”
You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.
Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”
The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”
“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”
“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”
“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”
A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”
“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”
“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”
“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”
Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”
“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”
“Me neither.”
“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”
You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”
Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”
But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”
The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.
(But you aren’t.)
His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”
“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”
Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”
“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”
“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”
As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.
What the fuck had just happened?
“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”
She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”
You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”
After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.
Your savior complex strikes again!
It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail.
Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”
Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.
“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”
“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”
“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”
“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”
You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”
“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”
“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.
Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.
“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients.
“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”
“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?
“You sure?”
“Affirmative.”
“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”
“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”
“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.
“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”
“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”
Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”
Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.
“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”
Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”
“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”
“What? No.”
“Why not? She’s cute.”
Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.
Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”
“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.
After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”
You could die at peace.
“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”
“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”
“Now why would you think that?”
“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”
“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.
“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”
“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”
“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.
He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”
Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”
His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”
This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.
“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.
“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”
You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.
Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.
Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”
You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”
“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment.
Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”
“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”
“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”
Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”
“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”
“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”
“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”
When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”
“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you.
Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”
“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”
From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”
“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”
“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”
“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”
“Go fuck yourself, will you?”
“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”
Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?
Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.
“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.
You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”
Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”
You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”
He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?
“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”
He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him.
“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”
You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”
The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”
“I just... I want to understand you better.”
“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”
He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”
With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.
“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”
“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”
The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his.
Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”
Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”
But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”
Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”
You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”
He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”
“Should I give you some space?”
That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”
“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”
“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”
“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”
“God, do you ever shut up?”
You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.
“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat.
“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”
“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”
“Am I that easily replaced?”
“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”
Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.
Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.
He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?
It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.
Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?
“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.
“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”
The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic.
“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”
“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”
You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.
“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”
“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”
“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”
“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”
“Careful.”
“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”
You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”
His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”
“Get your hands off her.”
Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on.
“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”
“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”
Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”
“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?”
The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”
“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.
“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.
“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.
“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”
“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”
The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”
Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”
“Don’t. Now is not the time.”
“I was protecting you.”
“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.
Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”
You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”
“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”
“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”
His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”
“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”
You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days.
“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.
“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”
In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.
“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”
“Right here? On the counter?”
“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”
“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”
“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.
“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”
Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”
“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”
“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”
“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”
His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”
“L-logan–”
“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”
You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”
With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you.
“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”
He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble.
“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”
“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”
Who had given him a damn script for this?
The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.
Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”
And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.
“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”
You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”
“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”
You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”
Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”
part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”
dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)
#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#logan howlett#logan howlett x you#wolverine#wolverine smut#wolverine fic#wolverine fanfiction#deadpool and wolverine#the wolverine#wolverine x men#logan howlett fic#logan howlett smut#logan howlett fanfiction#x men movies#x men#the last of us fanfiction#smut#fluff#wolverpool#deadpool 3#deadpool#logan x reader#logan xmen#logan x you#james logan howlett#hugh jackman#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan wolverine
11K notes
·
View notes
Text
au - vampire!alkaid | roses for the blushing bride
Your attempt at killing your kidnapper goes awry. How tragic it is—that the man who killed your love wore his face first.
2.1k, mentions of murder, suicidal thoughts and suicide, vampire/vaguely historical/reincarnation au, mentioned non-con kissing+biting, unhappy ending, reader is mc, inspired by my little ramble in the tags of this gif post, series: none
THE DOOR CREAKS LIGHTLY AS it opens, the warmth of your candlestick highlighting the steps beyond it. The monster that resides in this manor is foolish, and your Alkaid is—was—not. The hefty lock that once guarded against you sits carelessly beneath a portrait of a woman who looks like you—who was once you, if the ravings of a mad man are to be taken seriously.
And if they are, then you will meet him soon—the man you were set to marry, with the same bright green eyes and light blond hair, and a warmth that the lord of this manor greatly lacks.
And if they aren't, then, that is simply not possible. Because, you think, how else can this be explained?
Your fingers lightly graze over the most recent puncture wound at the base of your neck. They play connect the dots and the monster's claim draws a circle. It ends where it starts, with the gemstones on the dagger's obnoxiously decorated hilt digging into the palm of your hand and your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip.
There sits a bruise there, the likes of which you've only ever allowed one man to gift you. You can still taste your own blood upon your tongue, metallic and bitter, but you can no longer remember your lover's smile.
Yearning overwhelms you, for a man long dead. It is something you can fight off almost as well as the monster. And it is a maddening thing—the way your carefully-groomed nails desire to claw your skin off. The way your hand twitches, dagger still in hand.
It is a mistake to think of him at all.
You cannot afford any mistakes, not when your weapon has been promised a different target. You cannot afford any mistakes, when your next life is to be a happier one.
So, the candlestick lifts higher.
Heels you might've chosen for yourself in another life clack against stone, the sound echoing throughout the darkened chamber. Yet, the monster still slumbers, oblivious to your intrusion. At the very end of the room lies a coffin, and there he waits, surrounded by white and green. By roses and their stems carefully preserved, a silent mockery of the promise Alkaid once made you.
Eternal loyalty—but this is not the eternity you desire.
In hopes of composing yourself, of chasing away the familiar disgust, fury, loathing, you tear your gaze away from the coffin. The grey floor has borrowed an orange hue from the candlelight. As you cross the distance, you do not look at the portraits that line the walls, with their never-changing subject, the contents of which you know only because the monster brought you to his lair exactly once.
You, with the same dead eyes and the same dead love and the changing fashions doing little to distract from your likeness. You, who were unfortunate enough to fall in love with that monster in some other lifetime, having been blinded by his pretty face.
And the bile that climbs your throat at the thought, which you choke back with a tired grimace—that, too, is familiar.
WHEN YOU REACH THE COFFIN, the first thing you do is yank the flowers out of your sight. Your dagger comes in use much earlier than expected, handling all that your hands cannot.
It is the least you can do for Alkaid.
The monster remains asleep throughout. It's convenient—if you'd known it was that easy, you would've done it sooner. You would've avenged him sooner. Alkaid was a light sleeper, and you had assumed the same held true for the monster.
With the same hand that carries the dagger, you open the casket. It takes a bit of effort to ensure you never lose sight of your target—quite literally. The payoff lies in the way the candlelight illuminates the man resting within.
His lighter hair takes on a warmer hue, thought it's incomparable to the way Alkaid's hair would gleam golden under the sunlight. He is blue, dressed in an outfit that looks to be the furthest thing from comfortable sleepwear. Alkaid was beige and green, and he was always getting on your case about dressing comfortably.
Marking the spot where your hands should hover, you set the candlestick beside you, careful to ensure its enthusiastic flame avoids the hem of your dress. You're almost giddy with excitement.
You'll see Alkaid soon. You'll get to him, even if it takes ten or twenty—
The monster mumbles your name lovingly.
Alkaid?
The dagger freezes just before the blade can slice through the layers of fabric guarding his heart. Your heartbeat quickens. You watch the figure warily, waiting for anything that could signal his monstrous nature.
Why would Alkaid be here when he is meant to be dead?
But the monster has never said your name before. You are simply his bride, just the most recent in a long string of replacements. If you did not share the same name as all the rest, you're certain he wouldn't know what it was.
And if it is Alkaid, if he has turned into a monster, if he is just as much a victim as you—
How could you ever dare to hurt him?
You can't lose him again. His family and yours, if they're still alive, would gladly testify about the absolute wreck you'd been when he disappeared a few days before your wedding.
It was only when one of his friends mentioned that he had seen Alkaid near the monster's manor that you'd found the resolve to crawl out of your bed for the first time in weeks.
Of course, you hadn't known just yet that there was a monster at all. You hadn't known of all that was to transpire—that had already transpired.
Your grasp on the dagger's hilt tightens—you don't want it anywhere near Alkaid. You want to know if he's Alkaid. You want to shake the man awake and ask, Are you him? Are you the one I've been searching for? And what about the monster?
You know that if he says he was the monster all along, you'll forgive him with an ease he would not deserve.
Again, the man mumbles your name. It does much to distract you from your spiralling thoughts.
After all, it sounds like coming home.
You want to believe it sounds like coming home.
"Al—"
As if sensing that his name is on the tip of your tongue, the man rouses himself from his slumber. The first thing he seems to gaze upon is you—and the dagger you've pulled close to yourself.
Ah.
You tremble. His gaze is cold and his grip is bruising. Alkaid has never looked at you so unkindly. You used to find it disconcerting how easily the glare on his face would slip away if he glanced at you. Now you wish for it more than anything.
What have you done wrong? Why is he upset?
In your desperation, you almost beg: Alkaid—
Then, you blink, remembering the weapon in your hands. It coincides with the moment that a sense of clarity washes over you, beckoning you to recall your mission. To remember—
This man isn't Alkaid.
"Oh." Your heart flutters strangely. You want to claw it out too. "The monster."
Alkaid is dead, after all.
"Yes," the monster agrees.
The dagger plunges into his heart.
AN ORDINARY MAN WOULD KEEL over from the pain. The monster only grunts. You might as well compare it to bumping into the furniture by accident, with the way he seems so unfazed.
His gloved hand climbs down to your clenched fist, as if hoping to wrench the dagger away from your fingers. He is a monster and your Alkaid was not—that is what makes the difference between living and dying.
"You didn't die," you note, disappointment plainly evident in your tone. "Did you know?"
Did you know this would happen when you gave me this dagger?
"I'm difficult to kill," he responds flatly.
You wonder who the scorn in his voice is directed to. His gaze seems distant—which one of your predecessors is he thinking of? But you've never learned to tell the difference, so it's not as though the answer would make any sense to you.
"Unlike Alkaid?"
The monster remains silent. It only infuriates you more.
"I hate you," you spit out. Tears well up in your eyes, though for what reason, you're not sure. "I'm sure they all hated you too."
Anger briefly flashes across his bright green eyes. Instinctively, you pull your hand away, pulling the dagger along with you. Blood drips onto your nightgown, dying its white fabric a bright red.
Beyond an sharp inhale, the monster's expression remains unchanged. You're almost surprised at how easily he lets go of your hand, at only the slightest show of resistance.
"I know they did," he says, eyeing the new stain on your dress. You don't want to put a name to the emotion on his face. A monster like that doesn't deserve it. "They all told me as much."
You fill in the blanks yourself. Before they died. But they must've been the same as the monster when they died—that is why he refrained from performing that particular act with you. That is why the blemishes on your skin have nothing to do with any sort of traditional violence.
He hates it when you're hurt.
"And how did they die?"
He doesn't care enough to see that you're past that point.
He looks haunted. "That's not something I want to tell you."
A spiteful part of you delights in watching his expression. It wonders how much more his face will crumple when you meet the same fate. Dying is the only part of your gambit that was guaranteed to work out flawlessly in the end—the only time you've ever tried to trust the monster sitting in his coffin.
(I will turn you only if you truly desire it.
...I don't believe you.
Do as you please. I will hold onto my word regardless.)
The dagger is still in your hand. You pull it away from the monster's reach and nod almost imperceptibly. You cannot kill him because you do not know how.
But you are not beholden to the same laws of nature as him.
"And you won't tell me where to find whatever it is that killed them either?" you ask, though you know it's useless to ask.
For you, it is either death or a life spent with the very monster that stole your lover away. You will remember nothing of this conversation, nor of the pain you went through when you awaken once again. And you will go through the same pain and suffering, all the while cursing your predecessors for not taking care of what should be their mistake.
But you can still meet your beloved.
You want to meet your beloved.
"You have no need for such a thing," he says, with your name on his lips.
That is enough for you.
HIS EYES ARE GREEN JUST like Alkaid's. It's something you've noticed before.
As the dagger pierces your flesh, they widen in horror. You can't feel much of anything—if your hands were not holding onto its hilt, you wouldn't know you'd been stabbed.
There's an odd expression on the monster's face. Pained and familiar. It reminds you of the time you tripped over your own two feet, leaving you with scraped knees and elbows, and your dinner for the night littered across the ground.
You'd left Alkaid behind in a hurry, the siren's call of a warm meal too difficult to resist, and he hadn't been quick enough to catch you.
But the man in front of you is not the man you love.
Your lips pull into a faint smile regardless.
You're not sure why.
THE HANDS THAT WRAP AROUND are so terribly cold. You know for certain they belong to the monster. His tears drip down onto your cheek and you're surprised to learn that he can cry. But the blood on your hands, on the dagger lodged into your stomach, is sticky and warm.
Your neck remains untouched. His previous words echo through your mind—a man can only watch the woman he loves die so many times, after all.
You think you might pity him.
That is, before the memory of his confession, of the way he killed your love, leaves you with nothing but fury coursing through your veins.
You think you curse him.
You think he welcomes it.
#fics by aya#lovebrush chronicles#lovebrush chronicles x reader#for all time#for all time x reader#alkaid mcgrath#alkaid mcgrath x reader#lbc alkaid#lbc alkaid x reader#lovebrush alkaid#lovebrush alkaid x reader#rambles from here on ->#looking up card arts and guessing what's going on seems like a very productive use of my time#i already have a second alkaid card in mind (it's wedding unascended)#but i don't know what the plot is even though ik i want it to be witch!alkaid+reunion#some kind of friends to strangers deal like my mind is saying time travel shenanigans waking up 10 years in the future#also have something for ayn but it's more mundane “oops accidentally got married and now we have to live together”#or something along those lines—there was another card where he was the most beautiful man alive but#idk how to translate that into plot#im thinking late night return from a trip turns into a proposal from mc or something—he was REALLY beautiful#that or idol boyfriend shows up at 3 am at your door for some godforsaken reason and it's still a proposal#also for some reason i really love alkaid and white roses...which—fair enough
46 notes
·
View notes