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thinkinonsense · 5 months ago

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PAST LIFE⋆

dofp!logan howlett x mutant fem!reader

cw:fingering, cursing, dirty talk, mentions of motherhood, fluff

masterlist

logan should've known when he accepted the mission to come go back in time to stop the sentinels that you would still be here.

"is there an issue here, hank?"

the sound of your voice made logan's heart flutter. you were barely peaking out from behind the door but logan could see you just fine. he couldn't stop staring.

"no, everything's fine." hank assured you. just as you turned to return to charles's office, you heard the door burst open. this handsome stranger hits hank right in the nose before continuing up the stairs to you.

logan had to take you in for a second. his beautiful future wife stood in front of him and had absolutely no clue that they were married because she was only twenty-five years old.

had you always been this gorgeous? was that even fair? all of these were questions that floated around in his mind.

"who are you and what do you want?" you asked as he reached out to touch you.

"so you've always been this beautiful, huh, princess?" he purred, tucking away a piece of your hair behind your ear.

sure, he was attractive in his brown leather jacket and sunglasses but this man looked in his mid-forties. logan was too busy staring down at your frilly yellow babydoll dress to notice where you were looking at him. his left hand; more specifically the gold band on his ring finger.

"i don't mess with married men." you glare at him. he can't help but chuckle darkly down at your innocence.

"oh, my wife wouldn't mind."

god, logan felt like such a pervert for coming on to you but he couldn't help it. your ethereal beauty was unreal. not that you have aged much since the present day, as you two have the slow aging processes in common. older hank would always tell logan that he should be lucky that you agreed to date him because there were plenty of people who would love to take his place. sure, logan believed him but now, he really understood what hank meant.

"where's charles at, sweetheart?" logan asks, inhaling your floral sent.

before you can respond, charles comes barreling down the stairs drunkenly calling after you.

"where've you been?" he asked you then turned to logan. "who the hell are you?"

this should be good.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"how do we know that you're actually from the future?" you asked, sitting atop charles desks, swinging your legs. hank and charles stood outside in the hallway discussing whether or not to trust logan.

"you've always been this stubborn?" logan says under his breath, rolling his eyes.

"how do we even know each other in the future?" you finally asked.

for the past hour, this man has tried to sell this absurd story about how future charles and magneto sent him here together to save mutants from sentinels. so far he's managed to convince charles but hank and you were still on the fence.

"we're married, sweetheart." logan smirks wickedly.

there was absolutely no way that you two were married. this man is grumpy, mean-looking, and wears dark brown leather. you are an academic scholar who adores pastels and helping other mutants. he had to have you mistaken.

you squint up at him and laugh, "we are married?"

logan nods, walking over to you until he's standing between your legs.

"tell me something only i would know then."

"your favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry, you hate the cold and winter, anytime you drink coffee you get nightmares, your favorite color is green, but your favorite shade is the color my eyes get when i look at you." logan could see the way your eyes widen, slowly starting to believe him more and more. he couldn't help but feel cocky. "would you like me to continue?"

"im not sure... think you're gonna have to prove it. another way." you challenge him. logan's hand trails up your thigh, playing with the soft yellow material.

"c'mon sweetheart, this is too easy." he mutters against your neck, placing soft kisses and nibbling on the skin.

logan knew you like the back of his hand. he knew exactly what you liked and disliked. sometimes you would even tell him that he knew you better than you knew yourself.

"you like when i pull your bottom lip when we kiss. you blush every time i offer for you to sit on my face. one of your favorite ways to fuck is pressed up against a wall or bent over a table..." logan could go on and on.

"we do that...?" you whisper embarrassed by this version of yourself, trying to avoid his burning gaze.

"oh, all the time. sometimes you pull me down on the floor when i come home, begging to ride me right then and there." logan says, once he captures your attention again. you chew on your bottom lip adorably.

a small whimper passes your lips before you remember that hank and charles aren't that far away from the room. one of your hands comes up to logan's chest, slightly pushing him back despite not wanting to.

"w-we should stop." you warn him. "they can hear us."

this was when logan knew that you hadn't discovered part of your mutation yet. he had already assumed that you hadn't but this confirmed it.

"need you to relax, princess," he says, moving higher up to your jaw. your body betrays everything your mouth says, eating out of the palm of his hand. "i promise once you relax, it'll feel like time has stopped."

logan's lips taunt yours; not quite giving you what you want. fed up, you overpower him and push his lips into yours. the only word floating around in your head was 'relax'.

carefully, logan lays you back on the desk. something about being held in the stranger's arms set you at ease; maybe he was your husband?

"you don't know this yet..." logan huffs. "but you can stop time."

you scoff, thinking that you caught him in a lie. "no, i can't."

"if you relax like i said, then you can." logan mutters against your collarbone.

one of his hands slides up your thigh while the other rubs circles on your hip bone. was this wrong of you? if he is telling the truth –and it seems like he is– then technically he is your husband and it's not wrong to mess around with your husband.

"open up for me, babydoll." logan mumbled against your collarbones, placing wet kisses and nibbling on the delicate skin.

your legs spread with ease as his callused fingers rub over your cotton panties. the soft material of your dress is bunched at your tummy as he tugs your panties off, pocketing them for himself. his thumb returns to rub your button.

"p-please..." you whimper, looking up at logan with bambi eyes. "need more."

"anything for you, princess." he groans, slipping two fingers inside of you as gently as he can. this earned a loud moan from you when he nudged that spot deep in your gummy walls with ease.

"see how well i know my wife?" logan gloats, pressing soft kisses to your lips but never letting you catch him. "you usually prefer it rougher than this but i'm not cruel."

"y-you can go... can go faster." you pant, never having anything quite his size yet.

"i don't want to hurt you, baby." he says in a condescending tone. "wanna know something 'bout the future?"

it was difficult but you managed to nod your head despite how clearly fucked out you were at this point.

"a couple weeks ago, you came home telling me how much you want to be a mom; how you've always wanted to be a mom." he pulls back to look at your pretty face, lust darkening your eyes and slick pouring out of you, practically dripping down his palm onto the desk. "so, every chance we get alone you've been begging for me to go raw inside of you."

logan loved how even as you're all spread out for him, you're still blushing at his filthy words.

"look at you, blushing while you soak my hand." he mocks with a smirk.

"i'm s-so close, please!" you beg so politely.

his thick fingers pick up the pace as you clench down on them; jaw dropped and head thrown back. logan's other hand supports your back while your cute painted blue nails dig into his wrist as your climax starts to wash over you.

"hey sweetheart, look out the window." he chuckles, moving your chin to stare hazily out the glass window.

you couldn't believe it. every car, bird, street light, everything was stopped. everything but you and logan.

"how did you know that i could...?"

"you can't always control it but when you calm your mind, it's easier for you to do it."

"does it always happen when we...?"

"when we have sex...?" logan chuckles as you hide yourself in his chest. you nod. "no. over time you've found ways to control it. sometimes if we need more time, you might manipulate it."

"future me sounds cool." you giggle, lifting up to look at him. "how do we meet?"

"i can't tell you that." he smiles.

"well, then where are you in this timeline? how can i meet you sooner?"

"i'm not a very good man during this time, baby. you'll meet me when the time is right."

"what if you don't want me then? how do you know we will still get together?"

logan looks down at your pouty lips, swiping his thumb across it.

"i'll always come back for you. no matter the timeline or where we are in life; i'll find you again."

"promise?"

"i promise you, sweetheart. don't worry that beautiful mind of yours." he assures, kissing the tear strolling down your cheek.

logan reaches down and kisses you tenderly, pulling you out of the time freeze. suddenly the door swings open on the two of you. thank god, logan had quick reflexes, pulling your dress back down to cover you.

charles calls your name and then asks, "what are you doing?"

"it's okay, he's my husband."

a loud laugh escapes logan at your lovey-dovey tone, almost making hank and charles eyes fall out of their heads. you couldn't wait to meet logan again in the future.

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jadeshifting · 1 month ago

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🍒 — FRUIT ASK GAME

( reblog … send a fruit … get an answer !! what will the fruit oracle tell you about other realities hmm )

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　

— 🍋 TERRIBLY SOUR LEMON … who’s your least favorite person in your DR? a poisonous ex, a toxic professor—maybe someone who tried to straight up murder you. who do you truly go sour in the face at the thought of?

— 🍎 SHINY RED APPLE … what are you the absolute best at in your DR? the thing that, when people need help with it, they let out the most gigantic sigh of relief when you walk in the room—everyone knows you do it best

— 🍓 SUGAR SWEET STRAWBERRY … what’s the most romantic, sugar-sweet moment you’ve had or will have in your DR? something so terrifically soft and perfect it could’ve come straight from a wild strawberry patch

— 🍆 DEEP UMBER EGGPLANT … what’s the most thrilling fantasy you have about your lover in your DR? no information is too much or too little, it’s all according to your comfort—a midnight rendezvous, a sudden vacation for two, or maybe just a night in with one-or-two extra glasses of wine and hanging out :)

— 🥝 FUZZY BURST KIWI … what’s something about you in your DR that people wouldn’t expect to be true? it doesn’t quite line up, some fabulous detail about you. when people find out, they’re positively shocked

— 🥭 TROPICAL LUSH MANGO … what adds the most dynamic, vibrant color to your DR? a person, a place, an activity, a part of your identity—its presence lights up your existence there like sun rays on a blank canvas

— 🍏 CRISP GREEN APPLE … what’s a memory from your childhood in your DR that stands out amongst the others? the edges of the picture are crisp, it may not be particularly good or bad—but intricately memorable

— 🍈 HONEY BLISS CANTALOUPE … what’s your favorite season in your DR? do you enjoy sun-drenched summers, an exhilarating back to school time in autumn, or perhaps some particularly festive Christmas traditions that make the wintertime special?

— 🍒 BLOODRED CHERRIES … what is your biggest fear in your DR? you don’t have to get deep if you don’t wanna—it can be as small and horrifying as a spider or the dark. something that truly rattles you to your bones

— 🥑 EARTHY AVOCADO … what’s the most comforting part of your daily routine in your DR? it’s grounding—something that no matter where you are or what you have going on, will always give you reprise and solace

— 🫐 DEWY BLUEBERRIES … what’s your comfort meal or dessert in your DR? maybe it’s something your parents make for you, something you order from room service while you’re reclined in a hotel room, or something simple you prepare for yourself—it makes you feel better the second you sink your teeth into i

— 🍑 OVERRIPE PEACH … what kind of a future do you imagine for yourself in your DR? white picket fence material, with marriage and a couple kids? perhaps childless but continuing on your adventures til old age, or all of the above?

— 🍌 SUNNY BANANA … what’s a piece of art, literature or music that truly moved you in your DR? perhaps something that shaped your identity, something that you enjoy for purely academic reasons, or just your favorite

— 🍅 SCARLET TOMATO … what’s the juiciest secret you’ve ever kept or will keep in your DR? the kind of scandalous thing that would positively burst into drama if revealed

— 🥥 SUN-KISSED COCONUT … what would your ideal vacation be in your DR? a tropical getaway, with white sand and bungalows? a secluded retreat into the foggy mountains? where would you go, and who would you bring with you?

— 🍉 JUICY WATERMELON … what’s your favorite thing about your lover in your DR? the way they smell like home, how they make your chest hurt with laughter, how they take care of you. maybe the way their hair falls in their face just so

— 🍍 SPIKY BOLD PINEAPPLE … if your life in your DR had a color palette, what would it look like? perhaps pastels, or a range of jewel tones? maybe a collection of shades that seem totally random, but that make perfect sense just to you

— 🍐 MELLOW PEAR … what’s a dream or goal you’re pursuing in your DR? it could be as small as reading more often, or going out with your friends more, or as large as saving the entire cosmic universe. whatever you’re working towards!

— 🍇 TART PURPLE GRAPES … if you could bottle the scent of your favorite memories in your DR, what would the notes be? base notes of parchment and ink for your academic pursuits? middle notes of jasmine and rose petals for a lover you hold close to your heart? perhaps top notes of sea salt and sand for a place you find solace in?

— 🍊 SUNSET CITRUS ORANGE … what’s your favorite kind of outing to go on in your DR, with your friends, family, or your partner? whether it’s a classy art gallery, a carefree rocky beach, or an urban jaunt to the mall, you know you’ll have a good time every time

— 🍋‍🟩 ZESTY SOUR LIME … do you have any scars in your DR? a little mark on your knee from a childhood mishap on a scooter, or some gigantic mark left as proof of your world-saving tendencies—one that tells a story, big or small

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　

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lnfours · 1 year ago

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forevermore | l.n

summary: the long awaited, highly requested part two to welcome home <3

warnings: fluff all around, lando is absolutely whipped, this fic isn’t helping my delusions.

masterlist | part one

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the morning sun shone in through the bedroom window, which instantly made lando regret not taking your advice on hanging the curtain rod before you both went to sleep last night. now he was really kicking himself as he tried to cover his face with the pillow from under his head, desperate for darkness.

you both were exhausted from the move. you had spent all day and nearly all night unpacking boxes and it felt like you barely made a dent. you both conquered one room at a time, working through the downstairs of the house first, putting all the dishes in their respective spaces, moving things around to your liking. the exhaustion weighed out the happiness and giddiness that riddled your bodies, happy to finally have a place of your own.

the exhaustion didn’t hit till the both of you plopped down onto the mattress that was sitting on the hardwood floor of the bedroom, the bed frame sitting unbuilt against the wall, too tired to care.

after a few minutes, he accepted defeat. he wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon. in a soft huff, he placed the pillow back under his curls and reached for his phone underneath the pillow, tapping the screen to display the time.

right above the picture of the two of you he had had taken on his camera one night in singapore, the clock read 7:45am. he sighed quietly to himself, not wanting to wake you up as he rolled over to face you.

his sleep filled eyes squinted as he looked over at you. your cheek smushed against your pillow, your hair fanned out behind you as you slept peacefully. he smiled softly, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, moving closer to you.

in your sleep, you shuffled, moving closer to him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. his other hand traced circles into the soft skin of your leg. he watched you for a minute, pondering about how someone like him ended up with someone like you.

the answer was simple, really. you shared the same soul, intertwined. he brought out the best version of you and you did the same with him. you were each others number one supporters, being there for each other on your worst days.

it made his head spin, suddenly thinking about what came next for the both of you. he had got the girl, finally asked her to move in with him, now all that was left was a diamond ring and white wedding dress. maybe even a dog and a few little ones that would run around and fill the house up with even more laughter and joy. the white picket fence dream, and he wanted it all with you.

your head was tucked under his chin as he reached for the tv remote on the floor beside him, grabbing it and finding something to occupy himself with as you slept on him. he paid no mind to the fact that the pins and needles were spreading throughout his arm, he just cared about how you were comfortable like this. and he’d be dammed if he moved to disturb you.

about a half hour into the episode of his show, he got bored. he pressed the pause button, slightly adjusting so you were sleeping on your back now. he moved to hover over you under the blankets, his hands softly bunching up the material of your shirt. he pressed soft kisses against the skin of your stomach, his stubble softly scraping at the skin.

this is what made your eyes flutter open, smiling down at the boy on top of you, green eyes meeting yours. you squinted in the morning sun, voice hoarse as you spoke, “hi,”

he smiled, chin resting on your tummy as he looked back up at you, “morning,”

you grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him up to your face. the same smile still sat on his lips as he tilted his head down to meet you in a kiss. you sighed contently after pulling away, hands rustling the mess of curls on his head.

“‘m starving,” he said, laying back down on top of you. you let out a soft hmph as he laid on your chest, his legs between yours and you giggled softly.

“wanna order some breakfast?”

he hummed into the crook of your neck, “inna minute.”

and the two of you stayed like that a little while longer, basking in the feeling of each other under the warm blankets. you were absentmindedly playing with his curls, zoning out as you stared up at the white ceiling above you.

you were home. not only physically, but mentally. he was your person, the same boy in line who had paid for your coffee one morning at the cafe you frequented. the same one who nervously asked for your number after the third day of running into you and making small conversation about your lives and interests.

the boy who you ran up to at the airport every time he came back home and who never really wanted to leave you whenever it was time to go race in another country again.

his movement pulled you out of your thoughts, his eyes meeting yours as he rested his chin on your chest. the stubble he had grown out poking through the thin cotton of the t-shirt you had stolen from him the night before. you smiled back down at him, mumbling a soft, “what?”

“nothing,” he smiled back, adjusting himself so he was hovering over you now, hands trapping your head against the pillow. he bent down, lips meeting yours in a kiss before spoke softly against them, “i love you.”

“i love you,” you echoed back.

his next words flew out of his mouth without his brain filtering it first, “marry me.”

you laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, “what?”

“you heard me,” he said back, nose brushing against yours, “marry me.”

“lando,” you pulled back to meet his eyes, a small smile on your face, “are serious right now?”

“deadly.”

you sent him a questioning look, which showed him that you didn’t believe him. he huffed, getting up from the mattress and walking through the room to find his backpack.

“you know how i went to go visit my parents, right?”

you sat up, watching him dig through the backpack, “yeah..?”

“i was talking to my mom about you- about us, and she said she had something to give to me… fuck, where’d i put it?”

you chuckled softly to yourself before he turned around, a small velvet box in his hand before he kneeled back down onto the mattress with you, “and she said that if i were to propose to you, she wants you to have her ring.”

“lando, i,” your eyes were becoming glossy as he smiled at you, opening the box towards you to reveal the beautiful diamond ring you had complimented his mother on the first time you met her.

“she wants you to have it, i want you to have it,” he smiled, “i didn’t prepare a big speech or anything, but i love you. you’re it for me and i want to spend the rest of my life with you,”

he continued before saying the four words he’d been dreaming about saying you ever since he met you, “will you marry me?”

you hadn’t noticed the tears falling down your cheeks until they dropped onto the blankets under you, a smile on your face as you nodded, “yeah-” you laughed, “yes, a thousand times yes.”

he smiled and fished the ring out of the box, taking your left hand in his as he slid the ring onto your finger.

you pulled him forward, bringing him closer to you and sniffling softly before kissing him sweetly. his hand came up to cup your cheek, brushing away the tears that fell. your foreheads pressed together when he pulled away, bright smiles on both of your faces.

“i love you,” he mumbled, raising your left hand to his lips as he placed a gentle kiss over the ring that shone proudly on your finger.

“i love you more.”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris x reader imagine #lando norris imagine #formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 imagine #formula one imagine #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #fluff #i’m crying i need him so bad.

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coeurify · 1 year ago

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TIS’ THE DAMN SEASON 1

ELLIE WILLIAMS

𖤐 . ─┈ the holidays linger like a bad perfume. you can run, but only so far. i escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave? ˚* .

pairing: modern!ellie williams x ex!reader. summary: three years after the worst high school graduation you could imagine, you come home for the holidays— and find you can’t run from the past forever. ( series summary!!! ) chapter warnings: the first half is a flashback to high school. underage drinking & smoking (18). slight mommy issues, slight angst. blink and you miss it talks of anxiety. reblogs, likes and conversations about this fic in my inbox are highly encouraged and LOVED!! (plz come talk to me) special thanks to @elliesbelle for proof reading and hyping me up when i was struggling LOL

Your graduation gown was bright red. Not the sort the class before you graduated in, one that danced the soft line between burgundy and crimson. That would have looked beautiful against your skin, complimented the dress you picked out on the very first day of senior year. Your best friend told you it was too early, that you might decide on a different dress later on, but you were quite stubborn. You held the dress on a velvet hanger in the very smallest corner of your wooden closet, olive green and untouched. Gazing at it became a ritual, a fixation that found you stood at your closet any bad day, staring until your eyelashes fluttered closed and you let a soft breath out. Just a while longer until you could wear it.

The graduation gown was bright red and hadn’t gone with the shade of your dress at all. The material scratched against your arms, and fit too snuggly against your shoulders. Each thread felt too small, too constricting as you pulled it over your body. The sewn-on emblem of your school irritated the space on your chest it stuck over, and all you wanted to do was take it off. To be free of it.

Still, you had pushed aside the open suitcase at the bottom of your closet with a lump in your throat and sought out the same olive-colored dress from the start of the year. You had to wear it. You left the suitcase outside of your closet as well.

Nestled on the quiet corner of Church Street, named so for the methodist that sat closely down the avenue, was your childhood home. Faded paint peels from its timeworn white picket fence, revealing spots you picked at as a child— crashed into with your bike when you were ten and split the repainted wood. The wood creaks on the porch outside, which your mother consistently complained about. One of the window panes on the second floor is weathered by the rain.

It’s your bedroom window, and sometimes when you’re bored you would push up the glass, and let in the Wyoming air, trying to make your bedroom feel less suffocatingly small. You would scratch your nail against the dead wood, watch pieces fall to the ground outside, over the small garden of seasonal flowers your parents always tried to tend to, and failed at each year. You do so that day, with your bright red sleeves pushed up as you let the June breeze into your yellow-painted room, picking— prodding at the pieces that hardly hold on before your mother called your name, “Joel and Ellie are here!” her voice carried up the carpeted stairs, echoing with a sense of impatience.

Those names had your ears perked up, hardly feeling the tightness on the shoulder stitches of your graduation gown anymore, and you hurried down the stairs, welcomed by the smell of ripe peaches and freshly cut grass. It’s likely the candles balanced on nearly every corner of the living room your feet carry you near, lit by your mother who leans over yet another she must have gotten from the home goods store three towns away.

A smile pulled at your lips for the first time that day as you took in the two at your door. Joel was wearing a suit— an actual suit, and he had shaved. When you ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhed’ at his get-up, he raised a hand, still tinged with a soft amount of dirt, likely from sneaking to his carpentry job that morning. Ms. Pam’s house, four streets over.

Then you saw her, through the sun-drenched light that came in with the open door. Ellie had a frown on her lips, maybe because her gown was also too small as she pulled it over her body. God, couldn’t that school get anything right?

For once her hair was out of its usual bun, pushed uncomfortably behind her ears. All you wanted to do was rush forward and kiss her rosy cheeks, poke at the freckles on her nose, prominent as ever under the Jackson sun. But you had a little too much shame lodged in your chest to do so.

Your parents had been accepting, as did Joel, when the two of you curled your hands into one another’s in November of your sophomore year, and announced that you and Ellie, your two doors down neighbor, were girlfriends. Accepting as they could have been, at least. It took your mother a while, she’d excused herself from the wooden kitchen table she sat at the day you told her— and took a few weeks before asking you where along the line your childhood friend became more. She asked how innocently kissing the knees Ellie scraped on her skateboard, and Ellie’s fingers scooping into the frosting of the cookies you were making for your eighth-grade bake sale had turned into... this. You just gave her more time to understand.

By Junior year prom, your mother was almost smiling as Ellie hugged you to her chest behind the small camera Joel held outside of their one story soft blue ranch-style home. She pressed a hand to your cheek as Ellie tugged your hand into Dina’s, your shared friend, car and told you to be safe. That was always her way of telling you to have fun.

So you shouldn’t feel ashamed to lean forward and kiss your girlfriend of over two years as you two got ready for graduation, but you still did— just not because of your company.

Ellie didn’t notice the slightly odd feeling radiating off your body as she had launched her converse covered feet over the small welcome mat near the door and into your arms as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Today’s the day!” She’d cried, fern eyes sparkling. You smiled and nodded, though when you parroted, “Today’s the day,” it didn’t mean the same.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

Halfway through the graduation, your feet began to hurt. Not because you were standing too long. No, all 350 of your small-town senior class were given pull-out plastic chairs that sunk into the green grass of your football field, facing the rows of fading grey bleachers that families sat at, folding the pamphlets handed out to fan their sweating faces, a backdrop to the relentless drone of teachers delivering speeches under the sun.

Your feet hurt because your shoes were too small, the heel too tall. You had bought them when you were thirteen and visited New York City. The ankle strap was wearing thin, clamped around your flesh in a way that kept you rolling your ankle over and over. They were the nicest pair of shoes you had, and the only ones that didn’t make you cringe to look at. A shiny black color, with a gold gem on the strap. Surely you could have found any that looked the same at a department store near the Ski resorts at the edge of town, abandoned for the summer season. But then they wouldn’t be special, wouldn’t have been from the bright-lit city on the east coast.

They looked beautiful with your dress.

Ellie tipped her head down to rest on your shoulder, mumbling a soft, “This is soooo boring.”

Her red graduation cal tumbled off, landing on the green blades at your feet with a muted thump. Unaware of the tension, she nuzzled against you. Her cheek brushed softly, oblivious to the subtle stiffness that coursed through you, raising nervous goosebumps beneath the red fabric. You, however, couldn't escape the feeling, your heart gently aching at the touch. With a sigh, you surrendered, melting into her.

Jesse, stationed to Ellie's left, couldn't resist a snicker. His messy black hair peeked from under his cap as he playfully kicked Ellie’s fallen cap forward. Ellie leaned down to grasp before a nosy teacher scolded her for not paying attention. “Hey!” Ellie whisper shouted at her friend, before finally grabbing and fitting the red cap on her head again.

Ellie had decorated her’s with a beautiful hand drawing, black and brown inked sharpies on the red cloth, bleeding gently out on her lines of a moth and leaves, surrounding the blue inked symbol of a college forty minutes away.

You hadn’t decorated yours at all.

“It's almost over,” you console, fingers reaching out of the red fabric sleeve, sliding over the heated plastic of your chair to grasp at Ellie’s hand, squeezing it gently.

It’s almost over.

You smiled as best you could when your name was called, ignoring the tightness of your gown, or how the color of the dress contrasted the bright red. You ignored the pain in your toes as you kept your eyes straight on the podium where your Principal stood, grinning too brightly for someone who never once looked your way in the school— as he handed you your diploma. You put on your best smile as you posed for the hired photographer, but it never reached your eyes.

The smile that did reach your eyes was that of when your best friend walked across the stage. You whooped her name loudly and tried not to let your heel dig into the dirt as you clapped and jumped. “WOO CAT!”

The true smiles, the ones that found your eyes, came out as each of your friends crossed the stage. Your heart swelled to the brink as Dina and Jesse walked, followed by Ellie.

Your eyes fixated on her auburn hair swaying in the soft breeze, clapping so fervently that it stung, your grin stretching from ear to ear. The joy became tangible when Ellie received her diploma, a scratched scream leaving your lips.

Ellie graduated, your Ellie graduated.

Ellie who held your hand so tightly as everyone stood, who glanced at you with that cheeky smile when the microphone scratched during the countdown to throwing your caps.

Ellie who tugged you against her and smashed her lips into yours the moment she heard, “You are now graduates! flip your tassel!”

You do your best to focus on how perfect her smiling lips feel against yours instead of the impending doom filling your stomach.

Dina on your left tugged your cap off your head, throwing it in the air the same moment Jesse did so for Ellie.

You were sure your heart should have bursted through your ribs right then and there, your lips slotted against Ellie’s, giggling so hard against the kiss that you had to suck in a deep breath whenever she gave you a second— forgetting the awful feeling in your gut as Ellie brushed her nose against your own.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” her warm breath heated your cheeks, “We can do whatever we want now, we have all the time in the world.”

Your bursting heart had sunk as quickly as the graduation caps that fell on the ground around you.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

Your parents never really let you go to parties in high school. In fact, they were rather strict, your phone on a table downstairs after 10 pm, doors locked when the sun came down. Rules about where you could go, and when you could go. The sort of rules that just made you sneakier. But graduation was different, no sneaking was required when your father shrugged at the explanation of the after party your class planned. A bonfire for students to throw all of their papers into, cheer, and celebrate around the burning memories of high school.

You left out the part about how it was being held by James Summers, whose parents never questioned why heaps of six packs and half drained liquor was being carted into their backyard.

“Go have fun,” your father sighed, lips around a mug, the smell of black coffee in your nostrils. You never understood why he drank it with dinner. “You're a graduate, celebrate. A lot going on tomorrow, anyway.”

His head nodded toward the sealed envelope on the table, a stamp with a zip code from California.

You swallowed and turned on your heel.

The air was thick when you stepped outside, the sun setting, grass slightly dewy with humidity. You hated how it smelt, how it felt against the tank top you changed into. You kicked rocks under the toe of your shoe, staring up at the hues in the sky, counting each new star that appeared in the darkening colors behind pursed lips until you heard the boom of music behind the metal doors of Jesse’s car.

He had the biggest car of the group, a black SUV from 2010, scratched up on the left side from when he bumped into a pole. You only ever used his car when everyone needed a ride, and seeing as how you had expected the party to go— you definitely should’ve only used one car, the driver agreeing to be the designated sober friend.

A faint whiff of weed lingered on her grey sweatshirt, likely courtesy of Cat, who sat beside her, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. She blinked lazily, black liner smudged down in the corner. “Ellie fought me for that damn seat,” she muttered as her head poked out, “So greedy with you.”

Dina poked her head back from the passenger seat, smoky eyeshadow caught in the yellow color of the overhead light. “If she’s choosing the shittiest seat, let her.”

“Buckle up and let's go!” Jesse declared, hitting the gas hard enough to elicit a yelp from you, your head thudding against the back seat as the door slammed shut.

“Shit Jesse, you’re such a dick,” you whined.

“A dick who’s gonna be sober at the biggest fuckin’ party ever so he can drive you all home.”

All of you groaned because he was right.

The windows were down the whole ride, the music too loud and pouring out into the open wind as they sang along. Your friend’s eyes were closed and heads tipped back, Cat leaned out the window and sang loudly to the 2000s pop song she demanded, Dina laughed loudly and leaned into the back to cheer her on, curly ponytail swishing as her brown eyes crinkled at the corners sweetly.

You just smiled gently, taking in the moment as much as you could. Ignoring how much you hated seeing the same road you did every day outside the window, how you could close your eyes and still list off every patch of land you zipped passed.

Instead, you try to take in what Dina’s laugh sounded like against your eardrums, how it sunk into your heart and squeezed it with a harsh grip. You took in how Cat’s short raven locks whipped against her forehead as she fell back into the car, lips parted and pearly white teeth sparkling.

You took in how Ellie’s eyes flicked around everyone, looking at ease as she slapped her hand against the back of Jesse’s seat to the beat of the song, a strand of reddish hair falling from its place in the hair tie she stole from you. You memorized what her throaty voice sounded like as she sang along in a tune that was not at all like her actual, beautiful, singing tone. One you only heard when the crickets sang outside, pressed against her windowsill as her fingers strummed over the old guitar from Joel’s study, deep into the night when you snuck over and asked for her to play a song. No, this was goofy and loud, a stupid loud bellow from her cracked lips, cut up by laughs and gasps after every few words. You made sure to commit to your Ellie-labeled folder of memories how she turned to you, nose crinkled as she urged you to sing along, shoulder bumping into yours.

You wanted to remember it all.

You knew this may be one of the last times you saw them all together, at least this happy— this excited for what came next.

“Guys,” you call suddenly, a rush of emotion forcing the word off your tongue and right to your feet as you realize what you’d done, three heads turning your way as Jesse lowers the radio.

Tell them. Tell them.

“I just, I really love you.”

What a pussy.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

The setting for your final party was a tightly packed backyard with no fence near the woods. Clusters of seniors and underclassmen that snuck in filtered across the cobblestone near the glass door of the basement and all the way into the green leaved trees. Small fold-out tables held jungle juice, as bright red with cranberry juice as your gowns had been, and half empty and scattered beer cans. People whooped and hollered, they threw down graduate caps and little posters with your classes graduating year in the form of all different kinds of party favors.

In the middle of the backyard sat a large rock pit, filled with cut chunks of wood and smaller, sadder branches that drunk senior boys likely raced around the woods to find and throw into the fire. heaps of papers sat at the side, collections of every paper assignment from the groups of students.

Everyone at the party agreed to throw in and burn the papers at midnight, signifying the first day of summer and the end of your last day of high school.

By 11:30, all of your friends but you and Jesse were drunk. You were tipsy, enough to make your head light and your limbs heavy— tight heart a little less tethered in your chest as your back settled against a tree, curling your legs to your knees, tucking your chin on the soft skin there, eyes lidded as you watched your friends pass around a half gone blunt.

You should tell them.

“D’ya think we’ll like— be friends forever and stuff?” Dina questioned as her fingers brushed against yours, your pointer and thumb pressing gently against the blunt and bringing it to your lips, not answering.

“Don’t ask that type of shit,” Cat chastised, shaking her head. “So cheesy.”

“Of course we will,” Ellie muttered quickly, scooting closer to you on the rock you were seated on, taking the burning blunt after you.

You felt a little too sick for more than one hit, tilting your knees away from Ellie’s arms that sought affection.

Her eyes caught on you just for a brief moment, a soft look of barely there confusion before being interrupted by Jesse’s kick on her shin, “Blunt.”

You let yourself drown out the following conversation about the graduation, humming half interested or offering a small nod and chuckle of approval as your eyes focused on the cliques behind your friends' heads. Kids you’d grown up with your whole life, smiling widely and knocking into each other, chanting words you couldn’t decipher over the speaker that blasted as loud as it could across the lawn. You wondered if any of them had the same sense of dread you did. If the graduation felt more like a guilty secret than a moment of freedom for them too.

You should tell them.

Your thoughts snapped back to your friends when a voice filtered through the cloudy blockage. “Babe.”

“Hm?” your gaze fell back to the flushed face of your girlfriend, who held her hand out, now stood up. “I said they’re lighting the fire soon, doofus.” She frowned, confused by your sudden zone out.

“Oh shit,” you stood, fingers clasped around hers as she yanked you up.

You let go of her hand as soon as you stand, and ignore how your palm burns at the loss.

Ellie looks at you again, oh so observant Ellie, who reaches for your hand again, squeezing it so can’t push it away. You can’t bother to try anyway.

“You good?”

“Yea, jus’ smoked a bit much.” You nodded and smiled weakly, pointing your joined hands to where Jesse, Dina, and Cat stepped slowly in front of you. Ellie hurried both your feet over the grass to meet them as they shoved each other for the best look on the bonfire.

You and Ellie ended up behind the group a bit, as neither of you had brought your own papers to throw in the fire. Ellie said she hadn’t ever been good at collecting old assignments. You threw them out the moment your last class ended. You’d torn down every studying calendar, shoved every textbook and damn ruler into a trash bag and tossed it away. None was left by graduation.

You need to tell her.

James Summers perched on a stack of logs behind the bonfire, his throat cleared, bellowing as he shook around a small container of gasoline in hand, “We’re fucking free!”

The entire crowd erupted in cheers as Ellie's hand discreetly looped around your waist, offering a squeeze. She pressed a kiss to the side of your face, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

You were sick.

Everyone began throwing their papers into the pit, the gasoline scent filling the small and tightly packed area, mixing with the overwhelming stench of sweat and cheap alcohol. You could barely breathe it in anymore.

“Three!” James called.

“Ellie.” your voice cracked.

“Two!” The crowd yelled. Ellie looked over at you, noticing the discomfort etched across your face, and furrowed her brow.

“What’s wrong?”

“One!”

“I'm leaving. I’m leaving Jackson in three days.”

Ellie gleamed in a sudden surge of bright orange, heat tickling your face and screams ringing your ears. The fire had been lit, sparks of embers flying through the air as students swatted at them and laughed.

All you could see was Ellie. You watched slowly as her face dropped, as her sun kissed freckles flashed to a sudden pale. You watched as her hand dropped from around you, letting the sickeningly humid air hug your middle instead. Far less comforting than the itch of her bracelet against your skin.

All you can hear is the sharp gasp of air Ellie intakes, all you can hear is the choked question that dies on her lips. All you can hear is the crack of your ribs, maybe your heart, under your chest.

“What?”

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

“What?”

You blink blearily, rubbing your heavy eyes as you’re pulled into reality for a moment, staring at the tilted number of James Summer’s mailbox. The seven at the end barely holds on as it hangs loosely over the faded white paint. Your name follows the one word question, and then again. Shit, how long had you been unfocused? Your cold fingerprints dance over your fogged window absentmindedly.

“Mom,” your voice sounds whiny, like a tired child whose bones ached in the cold Wyoming winter. Being in this town sort of made you feel that way. “I said I’m about fifteen minutes out. My car made a weird noise on Maple Street, I took a break.”

Your father’s voice crashes through the grainy sounding speaker next, and you can almost imagine his face poked down to the place where your mother held the phone out. “Well did you check your gas?” You sigh. “Yes, dad.”

“And you’ve had the heat on? Know you probably haven't used it down in California much, but it’s important,” the slight edge to his voice has you twisting your hand down the window a bit harsher, “I’m not stupid, of course my heat is on. It gets cold there too, y’know,” Your eyes shoot to the dial, craning your neck with embarrassment, the heat was barely on. Thank god your parents didn’t like the concept of facetime.

“It was probably the fact that I dunno– I drove it fourteen hours?” you snap, any other building complaints dying in your throat as you instead focus your head out the window, a familiar flash of black hair nodding down the slick and cracked sidewalk to the left of you.

It was Jesse.

He looked the same, kept his hair the same overly complicated hairdo that you knew took him ages, even if he defended he woke up like that. He still had the same winter coat, though it landed awkwardly above his wrist as he whistled to his family dog, Lena. It almost shakes you, how stuck you feel in a moment of the past. You ignore your mother's calls of your name, chewing nervously on your lip. Hadn't he transferred to an out-of-state college two years ago? You saw so on one of your drunken social media stalkings. Maybe he was visiting for the Holidays? Maybe he was visiting Dina and Cat.. and–

“Turn your car on again!” your dad’s voice cut through your thoughts. You take one more look at Jesse, blinking like you were looking at some old photo or video from high school. He really did look the same. Only he was taller now, if that was even possible– less boyish in the charming smile he offered as Lena slid gently on a patch of ice. You slump down against your seat, shielding your face as your fingers turn the keychain filled car key still in the ignition. It rumbles to life softly, with a few spurts of an angry sounding engine before it settles into a normal low hum.

“It’s fine now.” You grumble, hearing your father’s tongue click. “Well hurry then, we have things to get ready for.” Your mother scolded as you shifted the old car into drive, refusing to look to your left as you started down the street, knuckles holding the wheel so tightly they hurt. “Bye.”

The click of your call ending allows you to take a long loud breath, sitting straighter in your seat as your eyes glance to the overstuffed duffle bag in your passenger seat. It’s with the heaviest clothes you could find in your mini closet back home– back in your home in San Francisco. It was a lot of sweaters and old tattered jeans you would have to layer to survive the cold without being ushered to wear your mother's awful coats or have an old scarf from middle school thrown around your neck to keep your cheeks warm. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

You hadn't had much time to pack properly, pull boxes down of clothes you only wore when it got really cold in your city during the winter. A split second decision after another fight over text messages with your mother sent you in a whirlwind of getting to Jackson as soon as possible.

You had narrowly avoided coming to your hometown for any holiday, let alone winter ones, ever since you left three summers ago. Both Christmases since then were spent in California, the promises of a beach holiday with warm sun pricking at your parents' skin and all the best events in Malibu lured them the first year, and car troubles you couldn’t afford to fix if you bought a plane ticket drove them to your home in San Fran the next.

It had not been enough this time. Your mother begged for months, going back and forth with you during every call, every picture she sent of a new poster lined on the local grocery store of Ski lodge events, light shows, any snowy magic that you could not find on the concrete streets of your home.

What finally broke you was your mother's rushed words last week, against a little screen you stared at in your dark living room as your roommate’s rushed words about work drowned out around you. ‘What are you avoiding?’ the text message read, ‘Do you hate where we raised you that much? Are you that embarrassed by where you're from?’ the next came. The words danced in your head, mingling with the soft music that played from the record player in your area.

You planned the trip the next day.

Maybe that made you weak. Maybe avoiding coming back to the small cold town this long made you weak. You weren’t sure anymore. Either way, you ended up here, after a very long drive with constant pauses and lots and lots of music to drown any thought that built inside your nerve wracked brain during the lovely endeavor of making it across the different states.

Taking your car in the first place was a decision no one you spoke to really understood. It would have been a short flight, easy to get through the airports, easy to be picked up by your parents or a cab. Maybe somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew why you had chosen this route. it prolonged the journey. It gave you more time to wallow in the kingdom of pity you had built yourself in these past years since you’d left. It provided the perfect out, need be. Your tire popped on the interstate. Your engine started sounding weird 10 hours in— something like that. Something to cower away as you had done three summers ago.

Surprisingly, you made it past the large sign that wrote Jackson’s town name in big green letters without making an excuse with your old car.

You could just coop up in your parent's house anyway, avoid prying eyes or curious old friends you may run into at the local market or the bar you used to always wish you could creep into. You could just…hide away, right?

By the time your mind cycles through every thought that sits in the divets of your creased brow, you realize you have arrived at your parent's driveway. It must have been muscle memory to get you to this point, and your tight grip loosens as you come to a soft stop behind the other car in your— your parents driveway. You settle back into the cushion of your seat as you peer outside the windshield, sighing gently.

Nothing has changed, of course. The grass was yellowed now, as it did every winter when bogged down by the constant frost and flurries. You were pretty sure it hadn’t snowed here yet, but the vegetation sure looked just as dead anyway. The large tree that edged the property, longest branches brushing against one of the side windows— one you used to squeal at in the dark as a child, make your father show you to was not a monster, scratched against the house still.

Your mother got the front porch fixed though, it was all she could talk about last spring. Without the burden, even if she wouldn’t call it that, of raising a child or putting them through college, she had the money to fix the creaky wood. It was replaced now by pretty and perfect panes that showed no signs of the little feet dragged over it for eighteen years. No one would know how many times you fell forward on the second step and scraped your knees or busted a lip. No one could tell the stains of ice cream you and.. you and friends had dropped on the light wood every summer. It had all been erased with the renovation, and you shouldn't feel so odd about it, but you do.

Your eyes are blurring from how long you are staring, unmoving as your skin runs as cold as the air outside, rushing through the memories. But the swing of the front door has your attention, your mother waltzing out quickly, her head twisting around as she searches for you. Your fingers twist your ignition off, hand reaching to your passenger for the purple duffle bag.

Your name is called shrilly from behind the fogged glass, and your eyes fall closed for a moment, begging the sky above for the patience you need as you step into the Jackson air. “Hi Mom,” you greet, one arm reaching over your head to stretch with a large yawn as your mother rushes over, fists clenching and then unclenching as if she was in thought.

She wouldn’t hug you. She never did. But when she blinks at you and says, “You should change out of those clothes, take a shower,” you know she’s doing the closest thing she can to an actual sign of comfort.

You nod, not willing to start an argument in the first few minutes of your trip. Your eyes fall to your sweater and soft pants. “Yea— yea.”

Your mother gives a tight lipped smile, nodding her head toward the door like you needed any assistance on how to reach the entrance, scurrying in front of you.

You follow silently, catching glances at your neighbor's houses. You almost pause, almost tilt your chin back and try to find the powder blue house you couldn’t get out of your mind, but you fight against the impulse, following your speeding mother to the door as she ushers you into the warmth of the entryway.

“Where’s dad?” you ask, freezing hands tingled as you step into the dense house, enveloped in the heat with a sigh. Now it smelt like cinnamon and cedar, the candles of the season for your mother. Your hands rubbed over your sweater, trying to rid the awful feeling of such a quick temperature change.

“Kitchen,” your mother hummed, tugging the duffle bag from your arms, frowning as she moved to the zipper to inspect what was inside. Nosy as ever. “You’re fine with staying in your old room?”

“Yea?”

“Just never know with you,” she sighed, clambering up the stairs before you could question what she meant. Your feet turn to the hallway, trailing your hand over the soft white wall, counting each picture that lines the wall. Only one included you and your parents, the biggest frame in the hallway.

You remember the day it was taken. Your freshman winter break, a knitted hat pressed over your head, face scrunched in a laugh as your father slapped his hand on your back, hot chocolate running down your fingers and into the white sweater you wore. Your mother looked horrified, a half smile on her face as she leaned over your father. It was one of the only moments you remember fondly all together. A moment you truly felt that warm feeling people described about family. Your fingers had been burning with the spilled drink, and your father couldn’t stop laughing at the sight, even as your mother scolded the both of you.

Maybe you remember it so fondly because of who took it. Joel had, and you can almost bear the chuckle of his now, beating against your ears as you meet the tile of your kitchen.

Your father is hovering over a kitchen counter, frowning and squinting at one of the cookbooks that’s almost as old as you. “Hi,” you interrupt his focus.

His head turns, and crow's feet crowd the space at the corner of his eyes as he smiles. “Hi kid,” his fingers release the cookbook, meeting your steps into the kitchen, which they must have just changed the lightbulb in— because the soft yellow was much too bright now— and wraps you into a hug.

“You made it in one piece! I'm surprised!” he teases, and you nod as you wiggle free from his embrace, stepping back. “sure did,” you throw a thumbs up, “why are you looking at that?” You nod to the book.

Your dad’s eyes flit away from yours, and you swear there’s a sense of nervousness as he shrugs. “Looking for something to make with the soup. Think I’m just gonna grab crackers and cheese though.”

“Soup?” you groan.

“Uh uh, no whining,” he shook his head. “only make food the people who live here like.”

You throw a hand over your chest and hiss, “Ouch?”

You smile when he rolls his eyes. “Your mom has people coming over,” he refuses to meet your eyes again. “She wanted soup.”

“What?” you pause, “someone’s coming over?”

Before your dad can answer, your mom is in the room again, sniffling. “The window up there is still letting in cold air,” she speaks to your dad, ignoring your frown. “They’re going to be here any minute.”

“Who?” you ask again, this time a little louder. You don’t like the feeling in your stomach, the rock that feels lodged there, pulling down your posture, making your hands shaky.

Your mother doesn’t answer you, instead pursing her lips. “fix your sweater. or take a shower like I asked.”

Your hands reach to do so without a second thought, and you find yourself cursing your instincts to listen. Maybe she would have answered you if you refused.

A ring at the doorbell has all three of your heads turning. Your father turns away when you try and meet your gaze, going back to the stove to stir the soup.

You follow on your mother’s heels as she goes down the hallway. “Why didn’t you tell me someone was coming over? I just got here! what if I wanted to sleep?”

“You can go up to your room if you want. I planned this before you decided to finally come home for once.”

Ouch.

“What do you mean you planned it?”

Your mother looked your way for a second, her chin over her shoulder as she frowned at all of your questions. “They're alone all of the time,” she called your name like a scold, “we let them spend holidays with us. that includes the preparations.”

You want to rip your hair out as you groan, more high pitched as she reaches the door, “who?”

The doorknob turns with your mother’s hand, and the air is knocked from your chest as she grins at the open door.

“Joel! Ellie!” she greets.

You truly think your knees are going to give in at that very moment, the rush of frozen air against your cheeks the only presence keeping your body held up as you stumble away from your mother.

You look at Joel first, you see his greying hair, you see the beard he was now sporting, gruff as his lips quirk up, wrinkles more pronounced against his cheeks and forehead as it dips down to greet your mother respectfully, the person behind him eyes stay glued to the floor. “Evenin’ ”

You don’t want to look at her. You don’t want to let your chest exhale any air as her chin tilts up, and her eyes find the space behind your mother’s head. Find you.

She looks at you, and you feel every single stepping stone you had made these past years, every damn lock you’d formed over your chest, every stone you had leveled to your ankles to keep your head out of the clouds, your feet on the ground— all collapse. They crumble right at your toes, and your chest heaves with the very first flash of that fern green.

If you were a stronger person you would have turned your cheek, maybe even turned right around and back to the kitchen, the safe haven of your father’s quiet stirring. But you weren’t. You were weak, and that weakness manifested in the eyes you couldn’t pull away from Ellie.

Was she breathing? You couldn't see her chest moving. Were you breathing?

“Ellie,” Joel called, snapping the staring contest to a sudden stop. Your name follows, “Hey, ‘s nice seeing you.”

You try to smile, try to be polite like your mother taught you. It comes off a little shaky when you say, “Nice to see you too sir.”

“Naw it hasn’t been that long has it? You can still call me Joel.”

“Right,” you giggle, hoping no one notices how forced it sounds. “Nice to see you, Joel.”

Ellie’s eyes move back to you, looking nearly shocked by your voice. It reminds you how long it has been. How the last time she had heard you speak it was your raw throat in the corner of that graduation party, cheeks wet with tears. Was that all she could remember you by? You shake off the thought, not willing to dip into the memory of what happened after you told Ellie you were leaving that night.

“Why don’t you two catch up while Joel helps me and Dad with dinner?” your mother suggests.

God no. Please no, no, no.

“Uh—” she turned to look at Joel. Did she cut her hair? When did she cut her hair? It was shaggy against her cheek, jaggedly cut and settling longer in the back. “Oh uh— yeah. yea.” she nods.

When her lips part, you have to force yourself to swallow, have to will yourself to focus on the words she’s actually saying. On how her tone is shaky and nervous, on how it’s just a twinge deeper. Maybe that was just you making things up. Maybe it was just the cold.

Your mother nods at you, a cold hand on your arm as she passes, giving it a quick and tight squeeze. It wasn’t a comfort, more a warning as she flashed her eyes at you.

A swallow forced its way down your throat as you planted your feet into the ground, unwilling to move as you watched your mother escape down the hallway with Joel. Did they know what happened? Was she warning you to be nice?

Surely they didn’t know. You hadn’t told your parents what your break up was like. What that night was like. Your move was a death wish on the relationship anyway, so when you told your parents it was a mutual split… neither of them questioned it. They weren’t as privy to that hollow look in your eyes the following days, or how you holed yourself up in a sweatshirt that wasn’t yours. It was easy to lie to them.

But Ellie.. had Ellie lied? Would you blame her if she hadn’t? If you were the villain in the story she told, would you even really have any right to fight that? You’d tasted the poison on your tongue the last time you saw her, and felt it spill into the summer air with every word. You felt the sting of salt twinged angry tears on your cheeks, the heat of your touch on a bewildered Ellie. You press nails into your palms before the memory plays.

Maybe you *had* been the villain.

“Hey.”

You find your attention following the low word, finding the pair of lips they fell from. Ellie’s cheeks were red, and you began to count the freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes almost met yours though, so you turned to watch how she stuffed her hands quickly in the loose dark jeans she wore, rocking back on the feet, the white shoelace stuck under the tip of the shoe.

“You still don’t tie the knots tight enough?” was all you could say. Not hi, not the most basic respect of eye contact. Just.. that.

“What?” Ellie asked, a noise that almost sounded like a chuckle coming next.

“Your shoe, it’s untied.” You offer, straightening your trembling hand to point down to where she stepped on the lace. She used to always tie her laces too loose.

“Oh,” Ellie’s head dips down, and you focus on the new haircut again. She had to have done it herself, the ends that fall just below the middle of her neck are slightly uneven and jostled, slightly grown out from what you suspect was the original cut.

“Yea.”

You didn’t know what to say other than that, and the silence hung heavy in the air as you both opened your mouths, only to simultaneously close them again.

“Girls,” the sweet, saving voice of your father flew down the tension thick hallway. “Soup’s ready.”

“Cool— or uh— yea. Coming,” you stutter, not bothering to catch Ellie’s gaze, avoiding the nausea it would bring.

“Just a second,” Ellie says after, pausing before she adds, “jus’ have to tie my shoe.”

Your eyes flick closed for a second, an odd mixture of that nausea and something a bit more delicate in your stomach, one that almost makes you want to pull the frown from your lips to instead quirk up.

You pad down to the kitchen, the soft muttering of your mother and Joel at the small wooden table, your mother’s favorite patterned ceramic bowls on top of soft flower table mats pushed in front of them. They have a Christmas magazine in front of them, and Joel is rubbing his fingers over his chin as your mother prattles on.

“You think you could make that?”

“Oh, I mean— that’s an awful lot just to have done in two weeks, but I could try..”

“Stop hounding the man,” your dad warns playfully, setting down two more bowls at the table, two chairs pulled out next to each other.

There was no way you would survive this dinner.

Ellie’s footsteps find the tile of the kitchen soon thereafter, and you avoid taking a seat, eyes stuck on the suddenly very interesting change of kitchen window curtains. “I have to um— use the bathroom,” the other girl said, jutting a thumb toward the hallway again.

Joel huffs quietly, giving a look to Ellie that you can’t quite discern through the quick glances you offer that way every few seconds. “Soup’s gonna get cold.”

“Really have to piss dude.”

“Ellie!” Joel scolds, eyes wide as he looks between the girl in the doorway and your mother at the table.

“I know- I know, sorry, I’ll be quick,” Ellie stumbles over her words, something she always did in conversations she didn’t know how to handle, shoes squeaking against the floor as she finds the bathroom door again.

“I think—” you clear your throat, looking toward your mom. “I’m gonna take you up on the offer of shower and sleeping.”

As always, you’re choosing the easy way out, avoiding the situation as a whole. “I’m sorry, sir—uh— Joel.”

Your head dips respectfully, a sign of apology for escaping out of the dinner, but Joel and your father are both shaking their heads. “Did one hell of a drive, go sleep,” Joel waves you off.

“Goodnight,” your father adds, one of his soft smiles aimed at you, speaking for both himself and your mother who remains silent and staring at you.

“Night,” you whisper, turning out of the kitchen and to your right, but instead of heading to the stairs, you press your back to the wall, squeezing your eyes closed as you try to find a most average breathing pattern.

1…2…3…4, fuck.. what were you supposed to count? 5 things you can see.. 4 you can touch.. 3 you can...

“Well that was… awkward.. a bit of a mess,” your mother’s voice flows through the white wall, and your cheek turns, as if pressing your ear to the paint would actually make the echoed voices clearer.

“Of course it is, it’s been three years, it'll take time, that’s all.” your father muttered, and you can imagine perfectly how his eyebrows furrowed at your mom’s comment.

“Dunno,” Joel, ever the gossip, sighed. “I don’t think those two ended off well.”

You hear your name in the mix as your father continues, “She said she left on good terms.”

“Maybe. But, shit, I’d never seen Ellie like that, how she was that summer.”

Your head fell back on the wall, a bottom lip sucked between your teeth as you breathe through your nose. You shouldn’t listen to this.

“That girl.. she doesn’t like to talk,” Joel muttered, pausing— maybe to take a sip of soup.

“Her either,” your dad offers on your behalf.

“But,” Joel added, “tchh, she was a wreck. Yellin’ at me more and ignoring Jesse at the door. Had to force her to go shower, like a little kid— drag her out her room to eat,” Joel added.

Your fingers pressed into the bottom of your sweater, and you try to rid your eyes of the pictures it painted of a messy Ellie, of swollen eyes and glossy green irises. You tried not to imagine Ellie with red cheeks and tangled hair, ignoring Joel’s pleas to leave her dark bedroom. You’d loved that bedroom, but the thought of her pressed under the grey comforter, blank expression as she ignored your— her friends, well it ruins that nostalgic illusion.

“Wouldn’t tell me why, but.. when I found out your girl had left.. ahh, well I knew. We never talked about it, but it was a rough few weeks.”

The bathroom door clicks open, and Ellie’s eyes look a little red as she moves past you in the hallway.

“They were teenagers then,” your mother concluded quietly. “I’m sure they’re over it.”

Sometime during your eavesdropping, your hand found the space over your chest on your sweater instead of the bottom, fingertips pressing over your ribs as if the pressure pain could remove the ache that settled much lower from the words.

Ellie’s flushed face met your gaze for a moment, and yes— her eyes definitely were a bit red. She didn’t smile at you, but she didn’t scowl either. You would have rathered that, than the unreadable eyes she gives you, a soft pause as her eyelashes flutter, probably confused why you were pressed against the wall.

You scurry past her, shoulders knocking as you do. A quick shock spreads down your shoulder and arm, fist clenching and then loosening. Ellie disappeared into the kitchen as you found the stairs.

This was going to be a very, very long holiday season.

taglist: @abbyscherry @sawaagyapong @muthafuckingstargirl @fleshunger @jigsaw-victim @brunettedolls-blog @ellies-tatto @mydiaurie @kittnii @villainousbear @ih8chickentenders @spiral-x @ceraiio @makemescreamel @prettygirlfemme @mourningdovee @a-normal-harry-lover @bejing-blue @elliesprttygirl @feelsoseencantdream @princessofdisaster444 @ellieslittlegf @erin-lxxu @pedrosballsack @jisoonunn @eveshyper @todorokies @lurk1n9 @lucidfairies @bellasfavepansexual @mina-281 @teawithnosugar @mousymaven @onlinelesbo

#𖤐 . ─┈ tis the damn season #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x fem reader

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daryascurse · 1 month ago

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ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏɪꜱᴏɴ ɢʀᴏᴡꜱ ᴀᴛ ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴛᴍᴀꜱ

“Deadly to eat.” His voice is smooth velvet. “Isn’t that funny? Humans saw a parasite that can kill, and decided to call it romantic.”

“Only if you eat it, then,” you say. “Something harmless pretending to be dangerous.”

“Or something dangerous, pretending to be harmless.”

SUKUNA x READER | 3.3k | ao3 | ᴀꜰᴀʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ɴᴏɴɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴꜱ, ᴍɪʟᴅ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ, ʙᴇɢɢɪɴɢ ʙᴊ/ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ɴɪᴘᴘʟᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏ, ꜱᴘᴀɴᴋɪɴɢ, ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴄᴜᴍ, ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴘ��ᴇ

“You have to kiss under mistletoe,” says the little girl who materialized at your elbow. “That’s the rule.”

You take a step backwards, startled, and she just beams up at you. “Well, look.”

“Careful,” Sukuna mutters as you almost tread on his toes, and the child scowls at his low tone. Her mother swoops in and grabs her forearm, tugging the girl down the snow-dusted street with apologies tossed your way. They make their way through the thinning crowds, the streetlights throttled with green cords and illuminating bulbs.

You glance up. A cluster of frostbitten mistletoe dangles, knotted just over your head where someone’s tied it off a lamppost’s iron branch.

Sukuna’s hand is at the small of your back as you lift your fingers to touch the shriveled plant. “Careful,” he says again. “It’s poisonous.”

“Hmm?”

“Mistletoe,” Sukuna says, and you pinch the ribbon instead as you bring it closer for inspection. It’s half-black with rot and frost. The red berries glimmer, weakly reflecting the streetlight around. It’s on its last legs of life as the holiday season peaks, just a dead plant tied together with fraying ribbon.

“Poisonous?”

He lifts his hand as well, cupping the berries in his palm. “Deadly to eat.” His voice is smooth velvet. “Isn’t that funny? Humans saw a parasite that can kill, and decided to call it romantic.”

“Only if you eat it, then,” you say. “Something harmless pretending to be dangerous.”

“Or something dangerous, pretending to be harmless.”

His breath is hot in your ear and the tableau is frozen a moment; a hand at your spine, the turn of your shoulder warm against his chest, your outstretched arms embracing the same plant. You tilt your nose closer to his face.

“A weed,” Sukuna says, and suddenly snaps the ribbon clean from the iron post. "It's also called the thief of the tree."

You turn, your face burning, and can’t watch him fling the mistletoe down the street. But he offers you an elbow as you walk towards the small square at the end of the street. Blinding lights take on proper shape as you approach. Fenced trees, white with snow and dead under a layer of frost, circle the plaza. They sparkle with the same golden and green lights threaded up the trunks and through the branches. The footpath is lined with electric, brilliantly scarlet poinsettias that cast an artificially red glow along the ground. Every few minutes, the colors ripple and change hues, eliciting sounds of delight from the children in the crowd.

“Beautiful,” you hear a woman breathe to another.

And he, Sukuna, he is beautiful too, his chin buried in the cowl of his dark coat, his narrowed eyes shining like the ornaments around you. You duck your face away in a bashful smile. The warmth of his thick coat pushes into you. Streetlamps pepper your way with light, and you shiver, even with Sukuna’s body heat snug and welcome against you.

Chirp!

The winter serenity is broken by the phone beeping in your pocket.

You try to draw your arm away from Sukuna to get to it, but he clamps his elbow closer to yours with a bullish look ahead. You use your other hand to awkwardly reach across.

“Oh,” you say as you read the message. “The girls – they want to meet up a little earlier for drinks.”

“You need to get the train now?”

Sukuna’s looking straight ahead.

“No, not yet,” you say, but frown when you slip your phone away again. “I think I left my headphones at yours, though.”

Sukuna rubs the tip of his nose with his free hand, and slides it back into his pocket. You can’t read the flash in his eyes. “We’re not far.”

“I know,” you say, and give a wistful look to the romantic lights around you. “I’m sorry to leave early…”

He grunts, a response you can’t quite decipher. But he turns and leads you from the square. Slowly, with each new block, the illuminations and lights drape away to bare night streets.

It’s hot in the lobby of his building. Sukuna’s bicep flexes in release when he slides your body from his arm to push the door open and lead you to the elevator.

His boots are off. You’re shimmying free from your shoes in his foyer when he turns. He pulls his hand from his pocket and lifts it over your eyes, backing you against his closed door; the stolen mistletoe and ragged black ribbon threaded between his fingers.

“Now what did that brat say, you have to kiss underneath this?”

Sukuna dangles the mistletoe, lifting his arm. You feel the weight of your head in a nod.

“But what if I want more than a kiss?”

Your eyes skim, up to the pinch of the mistletoe in his hand, before coming back down to meet his gaze. Sukuna smirks.

His lips are on yours before you can even lean into his chest. His mouth is cold to the touch. Your fingers grab the front of his coat and his free hand slides to the small of your back, drawing you closer. His fingers are impatient and they curve to pluck under lengths of fabric, to curve his hold to your body. You breathe shakily through your nose when he breaks the kiss.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Sukuna says with a thin smile. He looks at the mistletoe, back down at you. “What else can I make you do with this?”

Your elbows are resting on his chest, your grip still against the lapels of his coat. Sukuna’s fingers push at you.

“I asked, what if I want more?”

“I’ll give it to you,” you say, your breath coming quick and jagged. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth without his own.

“Good answer,” Sukuna says. His voice is throaty, his lips spreading in a grin. The next kiss is encompassing, his arms on you, around you, to guide an entwined walk from the foyer. Light spills from the entry to the dark room. Your arms wrestle his coat free. He tosses the mistletoe somewhere down to the couch, and his hands move to his pants as your own jacket slips from your shoulders.

“Come here.”

Sukuna lifts his hips to let his pants kick down. He sits wide on the sofa, and you drop to your knees. He strokes his cock lightly in one hand, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, lazily with the other. His eyes fall down as you sit between his spread thighs.

“I want you to suck on it,” he says.

His hand is on yours to control your motions when you lean forward; back up, down, up again. He stiffens under your touch and the tip glistens as your thumb slides messily in circles. Sukuna lets go with a groan coming from his throat.

You guide him to your lips and he moans again, the sound hitching in response. The taste of him waters your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you move back up with a slight gag.

“Mmm- ”

“That’s it, that’s it.”

Your mouth adds pressure to the rhythm, your tongue stroking along the underside of his cock until you’re sucking him, harder, harder, before gasping. Sukuna is hard and full when you put him back in your mouth. Saliva gathers, drools out over him.

“Fuck…”

You force your eyes up to see Sukuna’s lids are closed, mouth agape with elbows slung over the back of the couch. His chest rises and falls rapidly, half-bare. Slight groans slip from his lips.

As if he can feel the plead of your stare, Sukuna’s hands drop to the back of your head. His cock is ribbing over you, pushing to the back of your throat with each urge of his hand. He’s fucking your mouth more than you’re sucking him off now, his hips thrusting shallowly upwards with no mind to your struggle. Your hands fumble clumsy and blind to smear your saliva down.

Tears are beading involuntarily, leaking from your eyes as he moves you faster and faster over him. There’s that long, hard vein – and your tongue finds it, runs over it again and again.

“Oh – ”

The sound comes with an anguished force from him. The hands are pushing back now, and you lean away panting for breath. You wipe your lips with the back of your hand.

Sukuna lets out a groan like a growl, fumbling with the last buttons of his shirt. His eyes are wild on you. He tears the sleeves from his arms and he pulls you to his lap with rough hands. His mouth returns to you again, tasting his suggestion with a reverence, and the hands are busy to help you shed the layers from your own skin.

“You didn’t need mistletoe for that,” you whisper, your lip twitching in a half smile between kisses. Your nails card through his hair again, raking lower and lower, and then a hand to balance on his shoulder.

He urges your hips up a moment and your panties are off with the measured patience of someone who restrained himself from ripping the fabric from you. “Careful.”

“Why – oh – ” and as he steadies your knees over his thighs, you curl your fingers into hair with a gasp – “do you keep saying that?”

The question stutters out of you as his hands ride up around your ribs.

“Because you think everything is harmless until it bites you.”

Sukuna kisses your neck, your collarbone, down your breast where your skin pebbles cold.

“A weed… a kiss… a man.”

He bites then, pulling your nipple between his teeth with a pinch that makes you squeal. The words dissolve on your tongue.

There’s nothing slow or gentle to help slow your eager heartbeat. Sukuna dances his tongue until your nipple peaks, one hand coming to brace the small of your back to balance you, really keep you at him this time. He moves to the other with a fervor, saliva sparkling across your skin as you shake over him.

His other hand pushes into you, his finger seeking between your folds and urging your hips into position with each suggestive turn of his wrist. His finger finds your clit and begins to rub.

“Ohh – ”

It lowers you in a relentless rocking to where his cock waits, hard at the back of your thigh. The smoothness of it makes you whimper. Your muscles are tensing, relaxing when you realize you’ve been holding yourself steady for him; but then you tense again in a desperate reach for anything close to friction.

You curl your fingers into his shoulder to keep the balance as you reach with your other hand anxiously, trembling. His cock is still wet with your mouth.

“Impatient,” Sukuna murmurs.

“Maybe I should hang the mistletoe over your head,” you say, trying to angle him to you.

“You want more than a kiss from me?” His hand at your back lowers, and you’re leaning against the strong muscle of his forearm for a moment as he slaps your ass – cheekily, but with enough of a smart to make you yelp. “Didn’t you have somewhere to be soon?”

“Ah- ”

You’d forgotten, with his other hand now running a teasing finger along you to coax out the slick that opens you to him.

Sukuna’s lip curls at that, at the vacancy settled over your eyes, and he slides into you easily. From above like this, he’s pushed up so deep –

“- so d-deep…”

You’re stuttering, clutching to his shoulders with both hands now. Your thighs are clenched as you sink onto him.

“Move your hips.”

There’s an edge of impatience in his voice, choked with something thicker. Sukuna’s hands are there now, and he lets his palms run gentle massaging circles before slapping your ass with both hands now. It stings, and you bark out another cry. You push your hips back in whimpering response and spread your legs as best as you can to let your thighs and knees work and support the movements. But this dropping pushes him further inside you, and you let out another whine.

“Oh…”

“Better.”

He spanks you again as you move. His cock slides out of you a moment, back in, as you build your own unsteady rhythm. It’s unsteady because every deep, hard stroke inside makes you shake. When he thrusts his hips back up into you with a grunt, the force is so strong that your nails bite into his skin to keep you up. Sukuna moves his hands again at that and lock around your wrists.

You look down between the bars of your arms. Below your chest, his tense abdomen, his cock slides up into your body split and stretched against his width. It makes you shake just to see it, as if it defies reality to comprehend what it is you feel. You close your eyes and tilt your head back dizzyingly, shifting your hips.

“Mm… hmm… it feels so good…”

It’s easier, the more he’s in you, to rock your hips back and forth. You need to feed that desperate desire for friction, even if it grinds you raw. You’re able to move faster now, but Sukuna is still stronger, so much stronger that every stroke up into you stutters the rhythm.

He’s picking up the pace again in a way you can’t keep up with, and he’s groaning your name wildly.

“Feels – good?”

“Yes…”

“You’re… going to… leave my cum inside your cunt,” Sukuna says, his voice a low hiss, strained as he thrusts erratically, ecstatically, up inside you. His grip tightens on your wrists. “All night. With your friends. Let it sink … into your panties… all night.”

You whimper, and it makes your body shudder to hear those words rasp from his lips, wet and red with your kisses. Your back arches and you’re riding him with some new fire in you, even as your thighs tremble and your hips begin to ache.

Sukuna’s fingers are digging into your forearms, hard enough to promise a Morse code of bruises for you to read in the morning. His grip seizes; he releases to grab desperately at your hips again.

“Oh – ”

And Sukuna comes, hot and thick and roaring your name. Your inner muscles compress with clenching over his cock; the punching, dull ache behind your belly button fluttering so tantalizingly close to an orgasm as he climaxes in you. It shoots through and you moan, lifting a hand to clutch at yourself at the sensation – at your cheek, at your throat, squirming at the lewd sense of him.

Sukuna pants. His breath is hot and short as he finishes. He lets go of you, his palms giving a few, sweaty pats. His hips push back and dip into the couch and his cock begins to slide out of you with a slickness.

“Oh – “ you say, and you whimper, grabbing at him again. “Please – please not yet – I’m so close – ”

“Please?”

Sukuna looks up at you through his eyelashes, and just barely quirks his brow up. “Greedy,” he says. He makes a tongue clicking sound of mock disappointment, and pushes up and stays inside you, still heavy and still thick and warm. “Then you do the work.”

You’re so close, torturingly close, and his cool, dismissive gaze mixed with the heat of his words is almost enough to push you over the edge. You drag your shaking hands down from Sukuna’s shoulders, with skin marked with the crescent moons of your fingernails, down over his chest where his heartbeat betrays the nonchalance in his eyes.

“I want to see you touch yourself,” Sukuna says.

You push your hands against yourself. His grip has come comfortable on your hips, the strength of his wrists keeping you in balance. One of your hands hovers down, the heat of your joined bodies still radiating, the other right below your stomach. You push, gingerly, and a moan slips from you at where his cock sits within you.

When you start to force your thighs back to strength, there’s a sense of pure cream coming from you. You look down and could freeze at the sight – his cum is beginning to practically drool out of your spread folds. You rock your hips, slowly at first, and clumsy. Your body is aching for more and you begin to touch yourself, watching the grace of your fingers and feeling your clit slide beneath your touch. You look back up at Sukuna.

He’s watching beneath heavily lidded eyes, and he’s holding his jaw tight and your hips loose. True to his word – you do the work.

But how long will his stubborn pride win over his desire? His breath is coming faster and faster. You press your hand over your belly and let out a louder whimper for effect.

“Oh… Sukuna…”

No, he can’t let you keep control for long. His left hand moves back and he gives another spanking, a sharp one that makes your leg muscles clench across his body, and you yelp again. “Oh!”

“Yes,” he says.

You whine and press your finger flat against yourself. He’s moving his hips now, this time in a frenzy that makes your blood spin at how you can feel him beneath your belly. You have to drop that hand, to brace yourself for support on the couch, and then you cry out even louder when a hand shoves onto yours between your bodies. Sukuna uses your finger, manipulated under his, to push on your clit, dancing a firm pressure on and off your body.

“Come for me,” he says, his voice raspy. “Come on my cock.”

You groan, turning your head with a fevered madness next to his. “Say it again,” you breathe. “Please, say it again.”

The aching place that he pushes at is tightening.

“Please, Sukuna.”

“Do – what you’re told – and – come.”

His voice is dark and rough, as probing and insistent as his fingers. You let out a shuddering cry as it finally takes you to climax. Your orgasm pulses, throbbing and ebbing as it washes over you. He groans, fat and full within you.

“Oh,” you moan, your face in the crook of his neck.

He lets go of you, his hands sliding away.

With his grip released and offering no resistance, you lean back, bracing your arms against the couch as you climb off his lap.

Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!

Either perfectly timed, or simply within your awareness for the first time, your phone begins to sing.

“Oh,” you say again, and press your hand to your forehead. “Oh, shit. I’m going to be so late now.”

You feel sore and weak, your skin hot and sticky between your thighs. Sukuna has gleams of silver across his legs in the darkness.

“Oops,” Sukuna says in a nasty voice that offers no true apology.

He sits up, and his large fingers encircle your hand as you lean forward to fish for your phone amongst the litter of clothes.

“I meant it,” he says evenly.

“What?”

“Go see your friends. Have fun. Get all dolled up. But I want you to put those panties back on. I want you to feel that, rubbing against you and staining you the rest of the evening. I want you to smell me under your clothes. I want you filthy and mine before the whole city.”

You turn your knees towards him, your breath coming from your mouth. Sukuna reaches next to him, and lifts the mistletoe from the couch over your head once more. His eyes shine in the darkness.

“Give me another kiss.”

A/N: this is admittedly a rework/ edit from a fic i did on my old account with chrollo. merry christmas!!

#merry christmas!!#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #ryoumen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #mistletoe banner by mikeykuns #mdni banner by cafekitsune #daryafics #mind of darya

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thenewvenusgirl · 2 months ago

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cw/ noncon/dubcon, breaking and entering, obsessive behaviour, somno

toxic gaz who’s had enough of bucking his hips between his lubed up hand and his mattress, dry humping the linen material like a dog to its owners calf.

toxic gaz who sends you a bunch of texts at 12am, desperate for you to just send a pic - anything. anything to get him off. he fumbles with his cracked phone, one hand typing desperately and the other squeezing his foreskin over his tip.

‘baby?’

‘are you up’

‘please i need you so bad’

‘my sweet girl’

between push up sets and scrolling on tiktok, he realises that you are indeed asleep. dang it.

toxic gaz who only chews a mint before jumping in his car, speeding off and even running a light to get to yours, pulling up and parking lazily somewhere in the street - it doesn’t matter.

toxic gaz who jumps your fence and goes into your garden, stealthily gripping onto the loose bricks and manoeuvring onto the roof. so you didn’t lock your window tonight. interesting. and makes it a whole lot easier. he never liked waking you up, anyway.

toxic gaz who pulls up your window before sliding in, feet landing on the velvet grey of your floor, pants already halfway down as he strokes his leaking cock to the sight of you sprawled out innocently in bed, only sporting your dirty underwear.

toxic gaz who doesn’t waste time in crawling onto your bed and over your unaware body, already breathing heavily despite himself. he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and slides them off you, inhaling the musky smell of your femininity and sweat before pocketing them. gaz runs a finger over your folds, then takes time to flick his digit around your clit, hoping to stir you awake.

‘baby… fuck, i need you so bad…’ he whines, his pretty boyish voice strained as he urges your sleeping form to wake up.

toxic gaz who isn’t a patient man, and begins fisting his dick frustratedly over your limp form, his other hand teasing at your fleshy nub more incessantly. a coil of pleasure builds from his lower back to his abdomen, making his hips buck forwards as if plunging towards your ghost cervix.

‘that’s it… that’s my sweet girl… getting so wet already and you’re not even fuckin’ awake…’ he groans out, watching as you shiver and make little mumbles, eyes half lidded as they open.

‘k-kyle?’

‘yes, love?’ he retracts his hand to not startle you despite being painfully close to finishing.

‘tell me that this is okay.’ he murmurs, leaning down to press a hot kiss to your forehead as his hand stills around his cock, waiting for the green light.

‘y-yeah-‘

toxic gaz who groans, releasing his load all over the side of your stomach. the sound of your voice is enough to get him off. he then brushes the tip of his twitching cock against your wet tongue, holding your jaw open. he slaps the tip against your fluttering muscle, edging it in further despite your muffled whines.

‘good fucking girl. now, clean me off before i taste that sweet pussy of yours.’

#cod #cod fic #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #drabbles #short fiction

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tremendouscreationperson · 3 months ago

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So this is a bit odd but Logan x Death!Reader

There be deaths in here, blood, pains, etc so be careful

Fun fact: I was originally thinking of this for Din Djarin

It had been so long since he had seen you. Far too long. Logan had missed you with every day, every hour, minute and second that passed. You were his love.

Simultaneously the best and worst thing to happen to him.

The ‘best’ because he hadn't ever thought it possible to find his other half. Hadn't believed in the notion of a Soulmate yet you were the proof.

The ‘worst’ because to meet you was strenuous. It literally meant death. He had to be around tragedy to glimpse you and die to touch you.

He couldn't remember the first time you met. You were able to tell him pieces of his life which helped close some of the gaps in his memory.

There had been a car crash, the flames were sweltering as firefighters tried to quash them. Logan didn't raise his head to the wreckage, partly wanting to be respectful but mostly because he could smell the corpse. It was only when he felt eyes piercing his very being that he glanced around eventually landed on you.

Your hair was long and waving in a nonexistent breeze, you wore a dark headpiece which matched your frankly odd - but who was he (wearing yellow Spandex every other day) to judge? - outfit. It was a black skin tight bodysuit adorned with green. What in the Mutant hell were you?

Logan was ready to give you a sneer and fuck off but you smiled sweetly at him, even waving your fingers in a ‘hello’.

He waited, now curious, were you someone he knew from before?

You glided over with unearthly grace and once again offered a smile. “James, it has been decades.”

Logan's brows furrowed. Who the fuck was James? Instead of asking that he opted for the more diplomatic: “Do I know you?”

Your sweet demeanour fell, a flash of hurt covered by a blank slate. “You do.” He watched as your eyes scanned him and then refocused. “You have lost your memories.”

He gave an impatient huff in response.

“We were acquaintances.” Your voice wasn't familiar but his body had relaxed enough to know that was true. “You gave me my name.”

“You called me the wrong one.” He accused. The dog tags he wore told him his name was Logan, he was Logan. Whoever James was, was lost.

“You were James Howlett when we first met.” The flames were gone behind you, the charred body carted away whilst the morbidly fascinated crowd watched on as police took details. “I took your father. It was premature, I thought he could have more time, but I took him and got him safely to the other side."

“Other side?” He quirked a brow, what were you on about, there was no ‘other side’.

“I am a Reaper.” The words were spoken matter-of-factly, as though they weren't batshit.

“Yeah sure.” He rolled his eyes, completely done with this level of nonsense. “Look bub I ain't buying what you're selling so I suppose I'll see you next time I get in a fight.” And with that Logan walked away grumbling.

There was no God, with all his suffering, Logan knew that to be true and in the not-real almighty's cruel twist of fate he was now eating his words.

Your pleasant face hovered over him as he was sprawled on the floor.

“Logan.” You greet.

He didn't have a name for you. “Bub.” He nodded, extending his hand for you to take.

“You can't touch me whilst you're alive.” You pointedly kept your hands behind your back.

“I thought you were a 'Reaper'?” He hoisted himself up, his torso and leg were covered in still warm blood.

“You did briefly die but you never remain dead.” You clarify for him. He knew he healed but he- he didn't know that he couldn't die. Was he immortal? “It took mere seconds for your body to heal.”

“Why are you here then?” He pried the sticky shirt from his chest and cut away at the material.

“I had a point to prove.” You wink before adding, “I thought we'd have more time.”

“More time?” This was trippy. So - if you were to be believed, which he was still very much on the fence about - you were a ‘Reaper’ and he couldn't die and you had had a previous relationship(?) he was unaware of.

A soft sigh escaped you, “sometimes you can pass the first veil, you can enter limbo where some souls linger. We commune there. Would have immediately proved my point.”

“Let me get this straight.” He was now standing before you, bloodied and shirtless, wearing a big confused frown. “I can't die?”

“No. Strictly speaking you are an abomination but you grew on me.” There was a fondness in the crinkle of your eyes and smile lines.

“And how long have we known each other?”

“We first met as I said when I took your father in the 1800s but it wasn't until the 1900s when we began to actively converse.”

Logan's eyes were wide. He knew his healing was good and, yeah, he had just learnt that he was immortal but learning that he was 200+ was quite something.

“I'm sorry, perhaps I should have eased you into that. I forget myself.” At least you had the decency to look embarrassed.

“Uh, it's- it's alright.” He must have been in shock because he just let someone off the hook.

It took seven more visits for him to realise the two of you had had a special relationship. There was something about you that wedged its way into his mind. Usually because of a throw away comment that blew his mind. Such as the fact that there was a ‘plethora of afterlives’ as well as a ‘pantheon of Gods’. It was weird to have that confirmed. Every religion was based off truth and there were countless forgotten ones that would house the non believers, there were options for reincarnation and by fuck this was all bonkers.

The worst part, though, was that you were funny. He liked listening to you explain your world and he was in awe of your beauty. It hadn't gone unnoticed the first time he laid eyes on you but now he could really appreciate your ethereal splendour. Your eyes and lips had dark makeup that he wasn't sure was makeup - did a Reaper put make up on? - and you gave off an omnipotent air. But you were effortlessly funny, you always found a way to make him laugh and he prided himself on his gruff exterior.

“So who is really in charge then?” He had asked, walking next to you in a forest. Logan had found you stroking the neck of a deer, your face forlorn as he spied the shitty placement of the arrow. He hated hunters.

“In charge of what?” Your palms were folded in front of you, they were pitch black which faded at your wrist and blended into your natural skin tone.

“Out of the Gods.” He clarified. “Who do you work for?”

You turned in consideration and then replied with “I do not work for a God and there is no ‘in charge’.” You paused. “Plus a God can die but you can't kill Death.”

He chuckled, his brows shooting upwards. “Wow, so I'm hanging out with the big guns? With Death? I thought you were a Reaper.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “I am a Reaper and I have taken Gods to their afterlives'.”

“No, there's a difference between ‘Death’ and ‘a Reaper’.” He argued.

“Would it make you feel differently if I told you I was Death?” He had the feeling the two of you had previously had this conversation, there was a pang of familiarity just out of reach.

“No.”

Your lip pulled. “Good.”

“How can you spare all this time for me?” Logan was genuinely curious. You'd appeared to him as he finished up in the Danger Room.

“I am not alone in my job. There are others that help, Yama, Azrael, Thanatos.”

“Why do you spare all this time for me?” He kept his gaze solely on the cigar he held. Observing it between his fingers.

“I enjoy your company.” You simply stated. “There have been others that have healed, that have cheated Death but none like you. The whole idea of you used to irritate me, I believed it was a sick joke at first. That you were sent to vex me but I now think you are a blessing. As I said you named me, you gave me something that made me more than a Reaper. I am still impartial, if I am needed I will be there, but I now tend to stop and watch the sunrise merely because I... want to. You gave me that.”

What does one say to that? You openly admitted that he gave you freedoms in your dutiful life. Was what you had a life? Were you alive? “I think I could've come up with something better than Y/N.”

“No.” You adamantly shook your head. “Y/N is the kindest name I've had in a long time.”

He didn't know how to deal with your eyes. They were pure, affection radiated from them, he didn't deserve that level of affection from a being such as yourself.

If you were a girl in a bar he would've had you in bed by now but you weren't. You were different, he would always be with you in some respect because death was everywhere. He had to approach this differently. He had to befriend you first, which was terrifying as he had no experience with that.

He was open to the idea of getting you in bed, of course he was.

Look at you.

You were fucking beautiful.

And funny.

And scary.

And powerful.

Everything he liked in a woman, wrapped in a gorgeous skintight outfit.

When had he stopped seeing you as an acquaintance and started seeing you as a lover?

“Logan are you alright?” You quirked your head. “That wasn't weird to say was it?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It wasn't weird to say, sorry I just- glad I could help.”

He was fucked.

Logan was being tortured by some shitheel of a Mutant. He didn't even know what the kid had against him but this was different. The kid had been brought in to keep Logan down. To force him to stay dead for as long as it took to take down the others.

Which would've been terrifying if not for: “Logan!”

He spun around, his body lighter than it had ever been, and saw you standing with a concerned expression.

The room he was currently in was still there but the features were blurred, out of focus. He could see the vague shape of his body at his feet but the only in focus objects were you and himself.

“Is this Limbo?”

“Yes.” You knelt to observe the body he couldn't see, your hands hovered at a respectable distance. “This isnt- you need to get back.”

Confused, he asked: “Wait, isn't this what you said we did?”

“Not like this. Not with you being forced-” You cut yourself off.

“So I'm finally here but it's not right?” He couldn't win with you. Wasn't this what you wanted? You'd mentioned the veil twice and that he ‘had passed it before’, he was interested to know what the big deal was and now being lectured. Fucking brilliant.

“Logan, it'll never be right for you to be here.” You stood to your full height, closer than you've ever allowed him to be. “A minute or two here and there in the past was-” He was staring intensely at you. “What?”

“I-I can feel your breath.” He never could out there. You were always there and not there. Half in the living world but never fully.

“Of course you can, you're in my domain. We can even touch in here.” To amplify your point your fingers caught his wrist.

Logan's eyes flickered to your hands and back to your face. Putting two and two together, “You liked us being here. Where we can touch. Did we ever…?” He left the question open ended but he needed to know.

Hesitantly you admit, “We've shared a kiss.”

“Why didn't you mention that?” That should've been the first fucking thing you told him. His strange teenage crush on you was immediately validated.

“You didn't remember, you might not have wanted us to.” You shrug one shoulder. “I am Death.”

Logan placed a palm on your cheek, thumb caressing the soft flesh, and the other on your hip. He could touch you here. Of course you liked it when he visited. Fuck he liked to visit.

Your eyes tried to remain on his but they kept landing on his lips.

He leant down, slow enough for you to pull back - although he'd bet money that you wouldn't - and just as his nose met yours he gasped awake on the floor.

“Fuck!” He growled.

“Tha’ no way to thank ‘he Gambit for saving yo’ ass.”

The almost kiss was seared in his brain. The soft look on your face as your eyes fluttered shut and your lips ghosted his own.

He was angry at Gambit for a solid month which wasn't exactly fair and no one knew about you so it seemed worse but the anger was valid.

He had almost kissed you.

Logan made a point to jot down the name of that mutant - Ignatius Clartion - in case any future opportunity didn't naturally occur.

He could always try Rogue if not.

Look at him, looking for ways to kill himself for long enough to make out with Death.

Fuck this was weird.

But he wasn't above that.

What made this worse was that you had taken a longer hiatus than usual, so he was left to stew alone which resulted in him taking every mission he could. Logan threw himself into the fray with even less care than before. Even considered entering the fight rings he used to dominate in just for a few seconds passed the veil.

He knew he shouldn't. You might not be best pleased if he turned up from basically committing suicide just for a make out session. But it was tempting.

He started sleeping around less, he went weeks without a fuck and that was hard.

All for nothing because you were gone.

“Logan.” Your voice roused him from slumber. “Logan.” He had to blink a few times before his eyes could fully open.

“Y/N.” He grumbled.

“What are you doing?” Your tone was accusatory. “You almost died from kidney failure and that is saying something.”

“Just a couple drinks.” He sat up and flicked the table lamp on. His room was a mess but he could blame that on the whiskey and if you happened to notice his naked chest then that was a bonus. He was so fucked.

“Don't do that again.” You ordered before taking a step back.

“Wait!” He stopped you vanishing just in time. “Are we not gonna even talk about last time?”

“You're right.” You nodded and worried your lip. “You were in a prolonged state of death and I took advantage, I'm sorry. I have tried to keep my distance, I didn't realise quite how inappropriate it was to-”

Logan's chuckle cut you off. “Hold up. I almost kissed you and you're apologising for it?”

“It was an abuse of power.” You inform.

“No, it was almost a really fun time.” He shuffled to the edge of the bed, setting the duvet aside and sitting in only his boxers. “I'm pissed it was cut short, how do I enter the veil correctly?”

Perplexity was splattered across your features. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. “Logan, you have to die. There is no correct way.”

“I can't die.” He offered.

“It wouldn't be right.” You argue.

He realised something, “Why can't I touch you?”

“I cannot touch anything. My touch corrupts, decays, withers.”

“I can't die.” He repeated.

“But you could live your eternal life in a state of paraplegia. My touch could cause the metal of your bones to poison you over time, your skeleton could get so heavy it breaks down, your skin could rot away and you'd live as a corpse.”

“Or my healing factor counteracts you.”

“You can only see me because you have died, even that is taboo, and here I am arguing with you about kissing. Logan it isn't the natural order of things. I shouldn't have admitted that to you. It was better when you couldn't remember me.”

“No.” He vowed, anger rising. “You can't decide that.”

Your shoulders sagged. “I'm trying to keep you safe.”

“Fuck that.” He made a fist in the centre of his chest and unsheathed his claws. He coughed up blood as your eyes bulged and suddenly the room was blurred. There was no longer the taste of iron in his mouth and he stood, immediately crossing the space between you and joining your lips.

You moaned against his tongue before remembering yourself and pulling away slightly - your foreheads still touching - “this is wrong.” You mutter as he chases your lips and once again the two of you are sharing breaths. His tongue glides against yours and you let out another moan, melting in his arms.

Logan breaks the kiss only to trail his lips downwards, leaving sloppy kisses against your jaw and nipping at your neck.

The breathy sigh you release is all he needs in life. He wants this every day. Needs it.

“Feels pretty right to me.” He licks a stripe up your neck and you are forced to agree.

His hands have been frantically grabbing whatever they could due to his need to memorise every part of you. The material of your bodysuit was soft and allowed him to knead your breasts and hips without a barrier.

Logan tried to reign in his frantic movements but as he felt the fierce woman become putty in his hands he couldn't help but tilt your head exposing more of your neck to bite at the tender flesh once, nipping softly around it and kissing the mark he made. He had to mark his territory.

These needs were new.

Never before had he wanted to claim someone. Wanted others to know.

But now...

Seeing you let him do whatever he wanted was stirring something dark within him.

You were literally more powerful than anything in this world, in the universe, and he wanted everyone to know - you were his.

Were you his?

You better be.

He wanted you to be.

How would that work?

Logan coughed awake and let out a frustrated growl.

“Don't vanish!” He yelled sitting up to see that you hadn't. You were still here which was a good sign. “Let me-”

“No.” You stopped him, “Don't do that again, I'll be here if you do die but don't commit suicide for me.” The words were undermined by your fingers touching your lips.

Logan's frown was so large that he could see it in his line of vision. He really wanted to fuck you.

“Please.” You add, stepping forward and actually sitting on the bed. Again there was a distance between the two of you but you were trying.

The whole ‘don’t commit suicide’ thing was bullshit.

Logan had to be sneaky about finding his ways to see you.

You always greeted him with a warm embrace and a hot passionate kiss.

He hated waking up. Which a therapist would argue was not healthy at all but Logan did not give a fuck.

It was noticed by the X-Men that he seemed to have a death wish and he was even approached by Ororo and Jean one day about his mental health. He was thankful that his friends were so caring but the more questions they asked the harder it was to explain.

And so he dialled back.

He ensured when he could die it would be a longer death.

The frequency was less but the time was more. A better compromise.

You were on the battlefield collecting poor innocent civilians and hung around to talk to him. “I know that I can't die but is there any way you can control how long I die for?” It was becoming a running joke amongst the X-Men that Logan talked to the dead. He looked insane.

“I-I can't control that but I do have a certain skillset that I've been thinking of introducing to you.” You wring your hands. “I don't like the idea of it but at least you wouldn't be thrown back without warning.”

“Tell me.”

“Time isn't linear, I can distort it, I can make one minute here be as long as I want there. I could elongate the moment.”

The grin that split his face was infectious. You tried and failed not to look pleased. “Next time, do that.”

The death was fairly ordinary. He was riding Scott's bike home when the front wheel hit a patch of ice and skidded, flinging the bike to the right. Logan landed with a harsh thud on his neck.

He'd never been so excited.

You made good on your promise and displayed your other power of teleportation. Bringing him to his room.

Now that there was time he was going to take as long as he wanted.

There would be no frantic rushing, no, he would spread you out and treat you how you deserved.

Fuck was he going to be your first?

Did beings like you even have the concept of virginity?

You stood awkwardly at his side, your inner debate plain to see.

“Y/N.” He brought you to the present, with a hand on your waist.

“Logan.” You responded by placing your palm on his chest.

“Have you ever?” He wiggles his brows.

You huffed. “You wouldn't know this because of how easy going and encouraging I have been but this is not a common occurrence.”

He liked your sarcasm but loved what you said. You were going to be all his.

There wouldn't be another.

You belonged to him. The two of you knew that.

Logan's right hand found your neck and he tilted you to meet your lips.

This was the first slow kiss between you. He pecked at your lips before sliding his tongue along them, you eagerly opened your mouth and he explored. This time was borrowed and he would gladly accept the cost if it meant he could keep giving you leisurely kisses.

Your fingers flexed against his chest as he kissed you, the slow rhythm drove you equally as wild.

Logan kissed your nose, he loved your nose, then your forehead.

You took advantage of this angle and placed a tentative peck against his exposed neck. You could feel him stiffen and worried he was angry but Logan asked you to do it again.

And so you firmly repeated the action, giving his jaw the same attention he gave yours.

Your tongue ran across the flesh and you could feel the prickle of his stubble.

All these new sensations were maddening. He sensed that you were excited and purposely rubbed the stubble on you causing a full body laugh.

“No!” You wriggled out from the tickly chin but his grip on you tightened. “That's not fair.” You giggled.

Logan adored the sound.

He was well and truly yours.

“I've just discovered the one way I'm superior to you, I am going to expose it.” He smirks down, tempted to tickle you again but holding back.

“If I knew that this was what you were planning I wouldn't have suggested to bend the rules. Maybe I should send you ba-” He cut you off with another kiss. You weren't serious in your words so allowed the interruption.

Logan trailed his fingers up and down your body, making you twitch again but with a new sensation. This was slightly tickly but the new heat in your abdomen override that and made your back arch. Pressed you into him.

A palm found your spine and pulled you closer before it migrated down to grab a handful of your ass. He kneaded the flesh, fingers lower than socially acceptable and they found themselves closer to your pussy than he had actually intended. Oh well, Logan made circles with his middle finger and found where he wanted to be.

The whole time his hand was exploring he was lazily kissing you only stopping once your mouth fell open and you mewed against his lips. Your face contorted in pleasure and he couldn't help but watch.

“I think we should get out of our clothes.” He spoke lowly, to not ruin your high.

Your eyes flickered open and you nodded once, extracting yourself and with a wave of your hand you were bare for him.

Logan ripped the leather jacket from his back and tore the shirt in one swift movement. Eyes not once straying from your form. Your hands were still dark and your face still had the make up on but otherwise you were bare and he was going to wank to this image for the rest of his life.

There was nothing that could make him forget you now. What had happened to make him forget you in the first place?

His belt and trousers fell and he stepped out of his boots, ready for you.

You weren't nervous but he could tell there were things that you were conscious about, having never done them before, so he promised he'd make this perfect.

“Let's sit.” He led you to the bed and sat with you. “Let me know if I'm doing anything wrong.”

“But I won't know.” You countered.

“If it hurts, it's wrong.” He concluded.

You nodded, biting your lip. “You'll do the same?”

He didn't embarrass you with the scoff that tried to claw its way out, merely giving you a nod.

Logan brought you to him again, kissing your neck. Sucking and nipping his way from your left ear to the right. He then journeyed downwards, his hands guiding your body to lay on the bed as he kissed his way to your core.

Logan spent extra attention on your chest, how could he not? Your breasts were glorious. He sucked one nipple as he squeezed the other and your body reacted naturally to the feelings.

He breathed in your scent, a low growl rumbling in his chest as it mixed with your slick.

Leaving your now marked tits he carried on down past your stomach and pubic bone to where he had longed to be. He parted your legs and drooled.

Your cunt was breathtaking. It was moist and free of any hair - not that he would care - and it just invited him in. It did feel naughty to defile such beauty but it was more of a crime to leave you without an orgasm or twenty.

“You ready baby?” He asked, simultaneously lowering himself and lifting your legs over his shoulders.

“Y-eah.” Your breath hitched.

Logan licked from your core to clit and you audibly gasped, hands clutching his hair.

“Sorry.” You detangled them.

“Put them back.” He ordered, “I wanna feel you. If I'm not doing what you want me to, make me.”

He knew he kept thinking it but he had never wanted anyone the way he wanted you.

It was intoxicating to know the two of you were so compatible. He was drunk on you and there was no AA that would be able to help.

Logan buried his face at your core, lapping up your slick. It was sweet. For someone whose touch could only decay you tasted like an angelic being.

He used a hand to spread your folds so he could get his tongue deeper, licking inside.

His hand ached to get closer to the action, finger playing with your core as he spun his tongue against your clit. He knew he would have to ease in, so he tried to slowly introduce his finger by running it across the hole, teasing you, making you want more as he did the same to your clit.

Your thighs were ridged against his ears in an attempt to clamp shut but he used his spare arm to hold one open, hand intertwining with one of yours.

The finger slipped in past the nail as he sucked your clit to distract you. You were dripping with slick so he met zero resistance but he didn't want you to feel any discomfort.

He came up for air - to watch your face - as he pumped the finger in and out, each time going deeper.

Your chest was rapid and he tried to not lose himself in the view but it was hard when your tits were right there.

Logan remembered himself and kissed your inner thigh, adding another finger. Your body shuddered with pleasure as his facial hair scratched your sensitive skin.

Logan was quite content with laying between your legs watching himself disappear in you but he had a job to do. He was going to make you cum, then he was going to do it again and again.

His lips met yours and he pulled his fingers from you to suck the juices. He would need this weekly. Monthly at a push. You tasted fucking perfect.

There was no-one that was better suited to him.

“I feel-I feel really hot.” You told him as he re-entered the fingers, adding a third.

“I'll take care of you.” He promised, quickening the pace.

It didn't take long before your moans increased and you were panting louder and louder before you let a breathy groan and came around his fingers.

He wasn't done with you though.

He kept pumping in and out, working you through the orgasm, forcing it to continue long after you began twitching and tugging his hair.

“It's too much.”

Logan hated those words but did concede, pulling out finally and pushing himself up your body. Your legs fell from his shoulders to his waist, his dick inches from you, he could feel the warmth.

“You okay?” He cupped your cheek with his dry hand.

You nodded, speaking out of breath, “It was really good.”

“Good?” He sassed.

“Really really good.” Your cheeks heated and you crossed your legs around his waist. It was an innocent move on your part to keep them from falling but he was drawn into you and brushed against you.

Your squeak and his growl harmonised.

“You want more?” He nuzzled your nose with his.

“I want more.”

He made you promise to tell him if it was too much before he gathered your slick with his head and rubbed it across his dick. He eased his way deeper in and your body went rigid.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Nodding earnestly. “Jus- just big.”

He did not even attempt to be bashful, instead basked in the compliment. “All yours.”

Logan managed to rock back and forth pushing himself further into your hot core and the two of you were in too much pleasure to speak.

Three thirds of the way there he could feel the most resistance but he played with your clit and kissed your neck, your breasts, your lips to distract you from any pain.

He took his time but finally he was sheathed. Logan gave you as much time as you needed, your brows pulled in pleasure.

“Open your eyes.” He begged.

Your lips were glistening, cheeks hot, eyes glazed. You looked truly fucked out and he hasn't been fucked you yet.

Logan kissed you and ever so slowly did his first full thrust, your lips parted in a silent ‘oh’ and he had to thrust again.

The ‘oh’ was not silent this time. With each thrust he sped up and suddenly the two of you were fucking.

Your string of somewhat lucid “oh, ohoh, oh, yes, fuck, Lo.” spurred him on. He would get you there as many times as you'd let him.

He flicked your nipple and you gave him a half-annoyed-half-horny look.

Logan bent to capture your lips and you eagerly met his, your hands - which had been clutching the slightly in focus sheets - cradled his cheeks. Treating him with care that juxtaposed the way he was hammering into you.

The kiss ended with you gasping for breath when your second orgasm erupted, it was unexpected but he wouldn't complain.

Logan wanted to last longer he really did but the way your pussy clutched him, suffocated him, made that nearly impossible.

At least he had zero refractory period.

Logan came inside you, where it was warm and doughy, with a bite of your neck. He worked through his orgasm and finally halted his movements. He tried to keep his weight off you but you forced him down, forced him to hug you. Your lips kissing his temple as he caught his breath.

The two of you were sitting on a park bench, people watching. This was quite possibly the longest time the two of you had spent together.

“Look.” Logan nodded towards a young girl that fell. She sniffled at the scraped knee but immediately stood and booted the soccer ball. “She’s got balls.”

“The human spirit is hard to break.” You comment, leaning your chin on a palm. “It’s commendable.”

Logan watched you out of the corner of his eye, again struck by your beauty. He could write essay after essay about you.

“Do you ever wish you were one?” The question fell from his lips before his brain could catch up. Was that rude? Nah, you’d know what he meant.

“Yes.” Your head swivelled to him. “I haven’t the need to eat or sleep, I’ve never been cut or sunburnt.”

“I think that’s sweet.” His lips upturned, tongue swiping across his teeth. “I could take you on a date if you wanted. I know you don’t need to eat but it couldn't hurt to taste something, right?”

“You’d look insane.” That wasn't a no.

“I'll put on an earpiece and pretend I'm on the phone.”

The shy smile you wore was endearing. “I’ve never been on a date.” You bit your lip. “It's a lovely idea but I'll have to decline. The food would probably rot in my mouth.”

“What about the cinema?”

Your eyes left him, landing back on the field, intently watching the humans interact mundanely. “I suppose it couldn't hurt. As long as no one touches me.”

“What if I kill myself and we can make out?”

You had to restrain yourself from slapping him.

Storm knocked once and then proceeded to let herself into his room. “Logan I'm worried.”

“By all means, make yourself at home.” He snarked.

“You are worrying the team.” She ignored him and sat on his bed, plucked the book from his hands and gave him a look. “You're reading?”

“Was trying to.” He swiped at the book but Ororo kept it out of reach.

“Can you explain what's happening? You are talking to yourself, running headfirst into danger and I haven't seen you flirting, not even in jest!” She smoothed a wrinkle in his duvet. “Is there something I need to do? Someone I need to call?”

Logan had had this same talk time and time again. Perhaps he should just tell someone? Poor Rogue had even started to check up on him. He forced out a sigh and crossed his arms. “It's complicated.”

“We're mutants, everything is complicated.”

The two of them sat in silence for a while, merely staring at each other. How should he begin? What would she think? “I'm seeing Death.”

She nodded, “we all have to face death at one point in our lives. I know it's hard but there are people that can help.” Bless her.

Okay, maybe a different approach. “I've been seeing someone.”

Storm's brows met her hairline. “Yeah? This is why you've been worried about death?”

“No. It's- she's-” He rubbed his neck. “I can't die.” Storm frowned at the subject change. “I can't die and she is Death. I've been seeing Death.”

To her credit Storm's face stayed still, she had no judgement or ridicule or even disbelief but she didn't have acceptance either. “Is this a joke?”

“No.” He spoke with his hands. “I've been going insane because I love this woman and she's brilliant and funny and kind and gorgeous and generous. She is not a Grim Reaper, she is sweet, she is the cycle of life and death. It's fucking chaos. She's a literal God- no she's above them because even God's can die. Oh yeah, Storm there's Gods. Plural! And no one here can see her. I look insane because I can and to even touch her I have to be dead. Fuck, I need a fucking drink.”

Storm let the words settle in the air, taking everything he said in. “It doesn't sound overly healthy to get into a relationship where you have to die to hold the person.”

“Gambit and Rogue make it work.” He mused. “She's not a fan, either.”

“Logan, I'm going to need to process everything you've said and I will come back with questions.”

The team were made aware of Logan's partner. It was mortifying but at least none of them could see how actually whipped he was with you.

If you could be perceived by them he'd be done for.

But he longed for it?

It was a strange realisation that now they knew about you he really craved to show you off, yet he was concerned that they'd know you were his weakness.

If you were human, the Brotherhood, AIM, HYDRA, ALKALI and whoever else would've killed you by now just to prove a point.

No, it was better to have you tucked away.

To keep you to himself, however selfish that was.

But it would be nice to have a photo of the two of you.

He had tried to convince you to enter a mall photo booth with him on your date. You adamantly refused because of the tight squeeze.

“I don't believe I'd show up anyway.” You waved him off. “But it was a nice idea, a very ‘couple’ thing to do.”

That prompted him to ask, “are we a couple?”

“Well, literally speaking we are a couple as we are two people but you don't mean that.” You sidestepped a group of teens. “I'd like to think you aren't just seeing me for my body, I know I'm not.”

“Not bending the rules for a good fuck?” That got him the dirtiest look from an old lady. “Sorry ma’am, Bluetooth.” He pointed to his ear.

“So does she decide when people die?” Jubilee questioned, lollypop in her mouth.

The team had taken to asking Logan anything they could about his ‘relationship’. He had answered the same questions again and again. It was boring.

“No, she just takes them to their destination.” He chewed some jerky. The two of them were sitting on one of the many sofas in Charles' mansion. On the floor in front of them, playing the Gamecube, sat Kurt and Kitty. “I think she knows when she's needed but doesn't do the killing?”

“That's trippy.” Kitty spoke without turning her head.

Logan huffed.

“Do you love her?” Kurt’s head swivelled to make lighting quick eye contact.

“Yeah.” Logan rolled his eyes. “Now can you all shuddup? I came here to drink and watch the game and you knuckleheads put a stop to that.”

“Well, they are playing a game.” Jubilee countered.

Once more the two of you were sitting on a bench observing humankind. This time he had taken you to a museum. You told him about each era and how Vincent Van Gogh was hilariously funny, how Frida Kahlo hated socks, you even stated that you remembered a few of Leonardo’s ‘lovers’ as you passed a painting of Jesus.

“He doesn't look like that at all.” You scoffed at the painting. “It's a beautiful piece of art but that was Leo’s boyfriend.”

Logan had to keep his laughter low.

It wasn't until you both sat to take in an astonishing piece, almost the size of the entire wall, that a lady sat next to him. You had to slip off the bench to accommodate, which was something that you were used to so it didn't bother you.

She dropped her bag and a notepad, two tampons and a pencil fell. The pencil rolled over to his foot so Logan picked it up and handed it back to her.

“Sorry.” She pulled an embarrassed expression, stuffing the items back into her bag. “Not the first time I've made a complete ass of myself in front of a hot guy.”

“It's fine.” He shrugged, giving her a forced smile. “Could happen to anyone.”

“It's what I get for trying to be one of the greats.” She gestured to her notepad. “I can't help it, sometimes when I people watch I see the beauty that we have. It's like I have to try to emulate it, I have to at least do a sketch.”

He nodded along politely as she rambled on, pushing her glasses up her nose twice.

“It's a pleasant place to sketch, I guess.”

“Oh, it's brilliant.” She pointed subtly to the side. “Look there, those two on a date.” Logan followed her finger to see two boys looking at a bust, the shorter boy was bright pink and trying so hard not to smile whenever the taller looked over. The taller one took a quick photo of his partner stating that he was the ‘most perfect piece of art’. It was touchingly cheesy. “And there, they're having a hard time and that painting helps them. It provides comfort.” Logan followed again to see a person with short hair gazing longingly at a tiny painting. They had been standing there for a while, ignored by the masses, lost in thought.

“How do you know that?” He could see that she was right, without her words he would've thought that the person was merely looking at a painting but it made sense. Their shoulders had relaxed substantially, they were being comforted.

“Sit on the sidelines long enough, watch enough people, you get good at it.” She shrugged. “I'm Gladys. Before you say anything, it's an old name, yes I'm aware, it was my grandmother's.”

It felt passive aggressive not to say his, “Logan.”

She held out a hand and he shook it. “Nice to meet you!”

“I've been thinking.” You spoke lying on the grass next to him. It was after midnight but the stars illuminated everything just enough to see.

“That's dangerous.” He joked, grinning wolfishly. He had you sitting on his face less than ten minutes ago and was still in a good mood. If only it was on this side, he ached to taste you on his tongue and smell you on his fingers alas the memory would have to suffice. He was fine with that.

“Har, har.” You rolled your eyes, facing the sky. “No, I've been thinking about what it is to be mortal.”

“Okay?” He kept his gaze on the side of your face.

“I don't think you're fulfilling your duty.” You were pointedly looking away from him.

“Huh? I don't have a duty?”

“Your duty is to live your life amongst your peers.”

“Is this abou-

“Is to not waste a day. To live life without regrets. To procreate, to have relationships with other humans, and to love and be loved.”

Logan propped himself up on his elbow, staring down at you. He forced eye contact. Shit. You were serious. “Okay, let's procreate.”

“Don't be stu-”

He lent closer to you than you'd allow. “You are the only one for me.”

You rolled out from under him, sitting up on your knees. “It's unnatural. I'm holding you back Logan.”

“We’ve had this conversation before. Why are we arguing again?” He was completely puzzled. Hadn't you both decided that this was okay? Why were you the one that got to tell him it wasn't? Why couldn't he have a say in this?

“I think we shouldn't see each other.”

“Fuck off.” He reached a hand out to hold yours, you snatched your wrist back.

“Logan!” You whisper-yelled.

“If this is about that lady at the museum, I don't know what to say. I was just being friendly.” Had he made an eternal being, an inevitable force, jealous?

“I just thought that that was a perfectly good way to meet your person. She was pleasant and confident. She should live a long life, she's a mutant so you have that in common.”

“You looked into her?”

“No,” You shook your head. “I can sense things. She had the smell of a mutant and her aura was blue so long life.”

Logan didn't know what else to do, he sat there scanning you.

He knew fundamentally that you were speaking logically. That you had always said this. Always said this was wrong. But it fucking sucked that you'd say it again when he decided to love you.

He didn't know when fondness became lust and eventually love but it had! He loved you.

He'd always love you.

And how exactly could he avoid you?

It was inevitable that he would die again and you would be there to guide him back into the land of the living.

You mumbled so low that even he almost didn't pick it up. “I've assigned you to Thanatos.”

“Unassign me.” He demanded, offended. “What was your game plan? Fuck me and dump me?”

“No.” You shook your head but he could see your internal debate. “I-I didn't intend-I just. I thought it was a good time to bring it up. You were relaxed. I thought you wouldn't mind.”

Oh. He was now fucking livid. “Wouldn't mind?!”

“Logan, you cannot possibly have a life with me.” You deflated, shoulders sagging. “It's not something I can have and you deserve more than scraps. You're worth more than that.”

The sniffle you let out completely floored him. He was no longer angry. He couldn't be.

You were upset.

You were crying!

He had never seen that.

“Cm’ere.” He waved you over.

To prove your point, “you can't hug me.”

Lightning quick Logan sliced his throat and the world blurred. “I don't care if you lecture me afterwards but come here.”

You fell into his embrace and sobbed quietly, Logan rubbed soft patterns into your back and kissed your head. He squeezed you tight and didn't intend to let go ever. He wouldn't. He would stay here forever if it was possible.

Eventually your shoulders ceased shaking and your breathing evened out. He almost interrupted the quiet until he noticed your closed eyes. You were asleep.

You never slept.

You didn't need to.

He tightened his hug and repeatedly kissed your forehead.

When you woke he was watching you. He'd managed to carry you through the mansion and into his room without so much as a stir.

It was easier to make out this side when time was still. The blur was softer.

Logan played with your hair all night, keeping a watchful eye in case you needed anything.

“I love you.” It was a fact. The sky is blue, maths is hard, Logan loves Y/N. You were groggy from your first ever slumber but the words were sobering. He could see all of this in your eyes so continued, “I know it's unnatural, you're going to tell me off and I'm going to argue. That doesn't change the fact that I am in love with you. That I can't see myself with anyone else. You are it for me, baby.”

“I've never felt this way before.” You whisper. Again he almost missed it. “You make me want things I shouldn't. Sometimes I wish I was mortal and that's sacrilege, that's horrid, but it would be easier. We could be together. You've changed the way I see things, Logan, I will never be the same.”

“That sounds like goodbye.” His voice caught in his throat, so he cleared it.

“It should be but I'm not strong enough to do that whilst you're holding me.”

#marvel #james logan howlett #logan howlett #logan x reader #logan #logan 2017 #wolverine #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #the wolverine #wolverine x men #wolverine x reader #james howlett #james howlett x reader #james logan howlett x reader #death!reader #angst #idk guys

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lullabyes22-blog · 1 month ago

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Snippet - Sister Act - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Silco recalls Jinx's nail journey...

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Gently, Silco cradles her good hand in both his own. The fingers are an artist's—fine and delicately jointed, with a hint of calluses. He thinks of the vast casts of characters that'd leap routinely from those slender digits: disembodied heads doodled on his ledgers; an entire circus troupe sketched across the length of a map; a labyrinthine cityscape scrawled at the corners of his napkin.

And of course, her weapons.

Those deft fingers that fashioned death from the most prosaic materials. Revolvers lovingly polished to a high shine, their bullets gleaming like rows of pearl teeth. The tiniest detonator, tucked inside a ballpoint pen, that could bring an entire tunnel down around their ears. Grenades, smoke bombs, incendiaries—spotless save for her clever, clever fingerprints all over them.

Perfection and ruination; entropy and order. It was all the same to her. All simply a matter of scale.

Heaven and hell, rolled into a single girlish package.

Her fingers are cold in Silco's. He rubs them together, his breath a warm mist over the fragile digits.

The cuticles are split; the nail polish is peeling. Yet another detail that'll upset her when she wakes. She'd always taken such care with her hands. A natural teenage sensitivity that was endearing even at its most finicky. She'd reveled in the grease and grime of her workshop. But her skin, her hair, her nails, she'd kept scrupulously clean.

It hadn't begun that way. In the beginning, she'd been a grubby armful of girl, with black-rimmed crescents for fingernails, and the worst case of nits he'd ever seen. Sevika used to make a game of plucking the little bastards out and pinning them to her grease-stained overalls, one by one. Silco's teeth-gritted endeavors with soap and scissors—and the fiasco at the salon—are well-known.

Then there was her nail-biting habit.

So often he'd admonished, reprimanded, blown his stack—'Nervous tics are the telltale of a weak mind, child'—to no avail. She'd carried on shredding her fingertips until they bled.

Finally Silco hit upon the perfect solution:

Getting them painted.

She'd been dubious at first. The nail polish fumes made her face pucker like a dried prune. Her incorrigible wiggling—the girl was more worm than human—resulted in disaster upon disaster of gloopy, half-dried coatings. As did the inevitable accidents: a careless wave and a smear of candy pink would stain a silk cravat beyond repair, or a swipe of impudent little mitts would leave a baby-blue streak across a newly-purchased settee.

Silco, who'd never painted so much as a fence in his life, had his work cut out for him.

But he'd never regretted a moment of it.

Under his careful handiwork, the grubby nubs transformed, day by day, into the daintiest delights. She ceased gnawing and fretting; she began to cherish the lacquer, the way she did anything shiny. For Silco, there was a strange tenderness in watching her preen. The way she'd flutter her fingers, posing and pantomiming, as if she were stealing his signature flourish and making it her own. There was pride, too, in knowing that it was she, all unawares, who'd taught him a newfound patience, and brought a rare grace to his cutthroat's hands.

Remade them into a father's.

And when the paint would inevitably chip or peel, she'd come running.

"Silly! Heeeelp!"

The Eye of Zaun—scourge of the Undercity—reduced to a manicurist.

It never failed to summon a smile.

She'd adored the color palettes: the glittering gold, the fiery red, the neon green. She'd desired every hue of the rainbow, and Silco had obliged her, as he'd always did. Her favorite, of course, was blue and pink: a shade the Undercity cosmeticians called 'Sister Act'. One half, a pastel, pearlescent blue. The other, a bright, electric pink. The colors were always carefully divided, like a barber's stripes.

As the years passed, her palette evolved. There were the gothic blacks and dramatic purples; shimmering metallics and hypnotic gradients. At one point, there was a craze of studded rhinestones and stick-on sequins. And, as she matured, her love affair with the decal: a tiny, perfect, painstakingly illustrated scene on each finger. The most elaborate one took her nearly three hours to complete: a delicate watercolor sunset, complete with fluffy clouds and a flock of tiny seagulls, all painted across a background of turquoise sea.

But her true passion remained the Sister Act.

Gently, Silco squeezes her little hand in his own.

How fast the years go. How short their time together feels. How many years since those little starfishing hands clung to his neck, as his blue menace demanded a piggyback ride? As she skinned her knees and bruised her elbows; as she stumbled and screwed up and found her feet again? As her voice, a tiny piping thing, changed to a scratchy soprano; as her body, a wiry little twig, grew supple and soft and killingly sleek. As she grew out of his arms, and out of his reach.

Gods, he should've held her more.

He should've never let her go.

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane vi #vi #arcane violet #jinx and vi

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laylasverse · 1 month ago

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🍉,🍒, & 🍑 for the fruit game!

fruit ask game ( 🍉 🍒 & 🍑 )

will you guys be mad at me if i just use this as another excuse to talk abt jason but this time in my better cr . . .

🍉 : JUICY WATERMELON . . . what’s your favorite thing about your lover in your dr? the way they smell like home, how they make your chest hurt with laughter, how they take care of you. maybe the way their hair falls in their face just so.

yea, i'm just gonna ramble about jason for a bit . . . sorry. his lashes are dark and longer than mine (im a little mad abt that but yk). his eyes are the perfect shades of dark greens. sometimes its difficult to listen to what he's saying when he's talking about his little books because of the sparkle in his eyes. they're very distracting. he'll give me a look when i make a stupid joke, that he knows he shouldn't laugh at, trying to hold it together before finally giving in and laughing. he laughs so hard and smiles so big that little smile lines show.

he is a big guy (bro's 6'4??), so it's amusing when he sleeps so soundly with my pink blankets with little cats on them. jason takes up most of my full-sized bed and i have to shove him over so i can lay in my bed. he's just a big cat that i drag around with me.

🍒 : BLOODRED CHERRIES . . . what is your biggest fear in your dr? you don’t have to get deep if you don’t wanna—it can be as small and horrifying as a spider or the dark. something that truly rattles you to your bones.

this isn't a deep emotional fear but here ya go. in all my drs, my biggest fear is heights. i hate them so much. yk that feeling in your knees when you go up above ten floors in an elevator? yea that shit makes me feel sick.

🍑 : OVERRIPE PEACH . . . what kind of a future do you imagine for yourself in your dr? white picket fence material, with marriage and a couple kids? perhaps childless but continuing on your adventures til old age, or all of the above?

i know that i'll have a career to brittany broski (w/o the extreme & continuous hypocrisy). i'd love to post creative & entertaining yt videos while also having a talk show to interview interesting people. also a podcast because everyone has one.

but in the other aspect of my life I honestly i don't exactly know what the future will be like in this dr. i would love to figure out more of myself before having others depending on me.

but yk hopefully jay mans up and gives me a ring. i would like to live in an apartment overlooking a city like chicago or seattle (new york scares me) for a bit then settle down on the outskirts in a pretty house with a big backyard & gorgeous greenhouse. and yea i already know what i'd name our kids even through idk if we'll have any yet.

ꪆৎ : tysm for the ask franny 😘

2025 ⓒ LAYLASVERSE

#ꪆৎ laylasverse .#ꪆৎ layla shifts .#ꪆৎ jay .#ꪆৎ better cr .#shiftblr #shifting #shifting blog #reality shifting #shifting realities #jason todd x reader #jason todd #fame dr #ꪆৎ layla answers .

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valdotafencecompany · 3 months ago

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Eco-Friendly Fencing Options Georgia: Sustainable Solutions for Your Property

In the process of global transition to sustainable living, property owners and companies are looking for environmentally friendly solutions for different aspects of maintenance and construction. In terms of fencing, it is possible to choose those materials that are friendly to the environment in an effort to create long lasting and attractive barriers to the compound. At Valdosta Fence Company, we have a variety of fences that are friendly to the environment to provide you with a secure environment.

Why Choose Eco-Friendly Fencing?

Vinyl and chemically treated woods are other common fencing materials which are not friendly to the environment because of the chemical they release to the ground and the method of their production. Choosing sustainable fencing materials, on the other hand, offers several benefits:

Reduced Carbon Footprint: Most of the green fencing products are made from recycled material or natural products that can be regenerated hence they use less energy when being manufactured.

Longevity: Eco friendly fencing products are normally stronger and are capable of withstanding harsh weather conditions hence making them not to be replaced frequently.

Non-Toxic: Organic fences require lesser chemicals hence there is little chance of pollutants polluting the soil and the environment.

Aesthetic Appeal: There are many green fencing solutions and they are available in different designs and with different types of finish that make them easily fit in a natural environment.

Now, let's dive into some eco-friendly fencing options available in Georgia.

1. Bamboo Fencing: A Renewable Resource

Bamboo has become one of the most natural fencing materials to be used in construction. Bamboo is one of the most rapidly growing plant species in the world and it can be harvested again after some time. Bamboo can also be used to create a natural appearance, is flexible and can be arranged in various ways for example; bamboo roll or bamboo splitting.

Another strength of bamboo is it is light yet very strong. Still due to its resilience it is not as strong as metal or some hardwoods, thus the buildings should be located in regions with moderate climate. If you live in parts of Georgia where there is lots of wind, you may need to consider putting up some stronger wall posts to protect your bamboo fence from gusts of wind.

2. Recycled Metal Fencing: Durable and Sustainable

Another environment friendly material that is used in fences is recycled metal, preferably steel or aluminum. These materials are usually produced through scrap metal and hence are more environmentally friendly than the wooden or vinyl fences. Recycled metal fencing is very long lasting, easy to maintain and can stand up to extreme weather such as storms.

Fencing made from recycled materials in Georgia is cost effective, durable and a great option for people who want to get chain link fencing.

Chain Link Fencing in Georgia

Here at Valdosta Fence Company, we provide and install chain link fences in Georgia; we use both the conventional and the recycled types of wire fences. Chain link fences are very strong, they can be installed in homes as well as business establishments. They do not need much attention and are cheap when it comes to the fencing of large pieces of land.

3. Composite Fencing: Recycled Wood and Plastic

Composite fencing is created through the use of recycled wood fibers together with plastics. This type of fencing gives the look of wood but with none of the problems that come with wooden fences such as rotting, warping or staining and sealing. Today, composite fences are built to last a long time; therefore, they will not easily wear out in the humid regions of Georgia.

Also, composite fencing materials cannot shrink, crack, warp or fade because they are made from recycled plastic and have UV protection.

Fix Your Broken Fence in Georgia

If you still have a fence in place that has been destroyed by storms or has aged you should consider fixing the fences rather than installing new ones. If you live in Georgia and have a broken fence, our team at Valdosta Fence Company can repair the fence using environmentally friendly materials where possible and where not, make the current fence last longer. This not only cuts down wastage but also proves economical because you do not have to buy a new one.

Choosing the Right Eco-Friendly Fence for Your Property

Before choosing the right green fencing solutions in Georgia, one needs to take into account his or her requirements as well as climatic conditions in the state. In some areas, you may experience high winds and therefore require a fence that will be able to stand the storm and other extreme weather conditions. Regions such as these may not be suitable for bamboo or living fences, however metal or even composite fencing may be appropriate.

#eco-friendly #sustainable living #fencing solutions #Georgia #Valdosta Fence Company #green materials #fencing repair

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thequeenofcupps · 7 months ago

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LIFEWEAVER DATING HCS

A/N: fuck it I’m doing lifeweaver hcs cuz he’s girlypop

A/n pt.2: I’m keeping the cursing to a minimum

CW: periods, pills, mentions of killing, beating someone up, like a pinch of angst

⋆˚✿˖° he’s a big sweetheart it’s not even funny like if you’re having a bad day he’d give some space just in case and after you were done he’d give you some tea if you need to calm down a little more and give you hugs and cuddles!

⋆˚✿˖° he’s such a gentleman like he’s always holding open doors for you, hold your shopping bags, cooking delicious meals from his home country, making the bed, starting a bath for you after a rough day at work, he’s just malewife material

⋆˚✿˖° he has an apron saying “kiss the cook” guess you have to now

⋆˚✿˖° you guys go on the cutest dates ever like going to a butterfly garden a lot lands on him and he lets out that gorgeous laugh, you guys go on like crochet/knitting dates (my hc is his grandma taught him that or at least sym), an arcade date and he wins you a lot of plushies and they’re ur children now and sometimes he will read with you laying on his lap and he’ll read to you

⋆˚✿˖°he’d introduce you to symmetra(idk her real name I’m sorry) she has that kind of “mean protective older sister” vibe but she’s ask a shit ton of questions like “where did you meet him” “when did you meet” “what are your intentions with him” but she’s just trying to see if you’re good enough for him (she’s still on the fence)

⋆˚✿˖°if you’re on your period he’s right there giving you cuddles, stomach rubs, napping with you, starting a warm bath, medicine, making green tea for you (I read that green tea or teas are good for period cramps), if you have mood swings he’s prepared he’ll give you space if you need it, he’s there if you’re crying because of the pain, and he’s there if you’re sleepy

⋆˚✿˖°you guys rarely fight and if you guys did fight you both can’t bare to give the silent treatment so you guys make up with some tears exchange but you both made up and cuddled

⋆˚✿˖°he’d kill for you no questions he’d burn the entire planet down if anyone hurt you, he loves you to the moon and back

⋆˚✿˖°if you ever talk bad about yourself he’d punch the nearest person until you say something nice about you, and after you do say something nice abt u he’d give you an entire list of all the stuff he loves about you, all the pros to dating you, and how much he loves you

A/n: this is my first time writing for lifeweaver so I hope I did ok

#lifeweaver x reader #lifeweaver #niran pruksamanee #overwatch x reader #overwatch 2 #overwatch #lifeweaver overwatch #dating headcanons #dividers #i ran out of tags LMAO

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supersapphicsimp · 4 days ago

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alchemizing a new american dream

(a gaylor theory)

did you know a rumor among immigrants in the 1800s was that American streets were paved with gold? whether they meant it literally or it was just a shared expression, the phrase represents this idea that the nation was filled with endless hopes and dreams, opportunities, a chance at a better life. but this dream is one that has also been tied to over-idealizing material wealth.

the original wizard of oz by l. frank baum was published at the end of the Gilded Age, which was an era of hyperinflated artifice and material wealth that helped create the conditions for the great depression. economic catastrophe. the oz book is thought to be an allegory for this, with the yellow brick road representing the gold standard of currency that was used at that time, the original silver shoes representing the populist ideal to bring back a silver standard, and the green of oz representing fiat currency. but ultimately all of these things and oz itself are just artifice, and in the same way, the american dream has always been a false ideal and illusion—one that we are watching shatter and crumble around us in real time.

taylor’s american dreams

taylor has referred to the american dream either by name or allusion frequently. here are some notable examples:

• Fresh Out the Slammer:

“Now pretty baby, I’m running back home to you…to the house where you still wait up and that porch light gleams, to the one who says I’m the girl of his American dreams. And no matter what I’ve done it wouldn’t matter anyway, ain’t no way I’m gonna screw up now that I know what’s at stake here…”

• King of My Heart:

“Salute to me, I’m your American queen [original lyrics: salute to me like the American Dream] and we rule the kingdom inside my room…King of my heart, body and soul…And all at once, you’re all I want, I’ll never let you go….”

these are her only two songs that directly invoke the phrase “american dream” (though in KOMH it’s in the original lyrics but it still counts imo) but it’s important to know it’s not THE american dream. in KOMH she’s comparing herself to her muse’s version of the american dream. the same is true in FOTS. the one of his american dreams. FOTS and KOMH represent taylor’s ideal of her authentic american dream, which subverts the concept of the american dream = material wealth. KOMH is about her giving up “fancy stuff” for true spiritual wealth, and that’s what’s she’s running home to.

• Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince:

“No cameras catch my pageant smile…And ran for my life…voted most likely to run away with you. And I don’t want you to go, I don’t really wanna fight, cause nobody’s gonna win, I think you should come home…And I’ll never let you go cause I know this is a fight that someday we’re gonna win, just thought you should know.”

• Midnight Rain / High Infidelity

“My town was a wasteland…Full of cages, full of fences, pageant queens and big pretenders, but for some, it was paradise. like a postcard…pcture perfect, shiny family, holiday, peppermint candy”

“Your picket fence is sharp as knives, I was dancing around, dancing around it”

these three songs depict taylor’s struggles with the mainstream/culturally dominant ideal of the american dream and how it feels like a battle, a fight for her life, and ultimately something she decides she has to leave behind. these three songs also are all examples of the dynamic of duality that is present in much of her recent work: brand taylor vs real taylor, miss americana and the heartbreak prince, and they have to come together again for her new american dynasty to begin. MAATHP always sort of sounded like a duet in how she sings it, like the person calling her to come home is the heartbreak prince, and the person who ran for her life and was scared but won’t ever let the other go because she knows one day they’ll win is miss americana. so when miss americana comes home, she’s coming home to the heartbreak prince’s american dreams. midnight rain is another clear example of her duality bc it has taylor literally singing in two pitches, having jack warp her voice to sound masculine. and high infidelity seems like it addresses two different factions of her fanbase, and the regret caused by her “bending the truth” too far.

• lyrical connections: “i’ll never let you go” in both KOMH and MAATHP and “pageant (queens)” in both MAATHP and high infidelity

• The Last Great American Dynasty

this song fully subverts the over-romanticized ideals of the american dream. what’s more of an american dream than an american dynasty? but rebekah rebukes it—she doesn’t just reject it. she ruins it. she ruins everything, and she has a marvelous time while she does it, being the loudest woman the town has ever seen. obviously in the end, taylor becomes rebekah. she identifies with her gleeful destruction of sacred, repressive institutions, expectations, traditions, and standards.

then along comes the tayvis circus. the comparison makes itself on a daily basis with no effort; i constantly see tweets describing the two of them as “american royalty.” the persona that taylor takes on in the context of this stunt represents the epitome of “Miss Americana” the idealized american dream. that’s why so many gaylors were averse to the tayvis spectacle from the start—we knew the kind of discourse it would encourage, and it’s exactly the kind of discourse you would expect from a narrative that encouraged returning to “comforting traditional american values.”

but taylor is rebekah. taylor is going to have a marvelous time ruining everything, too. she’s going to have a marvelous time tearing down their ideal of the last great american dynasty. those are her stakes! and she warned us all, so many times:

after taylor removed TLGAD from the set, she played it exactly twice in the surprise song set. once to announce she is running, leaving behind the traditional image of the american dream that doesn’t suit her, and begging her fans to still want her when she’s not their shining mirrorball anymore;

and once to reclaim her vision for the american dream and declare her choice, to rebuild her american dynasty, and to explain why she had to do what she did. and that she doesn’t regret it. it just felt so good (ruining everything).

and the show immediately after the first time she sang TLGAD with Run, she played these:

laying out her vision of what her (well technically his but he is the heartbreak prince who is also taylor so) american dream looks like, of what exactly she’s running back home to. and it’s… gay as fuck. girl, you’re running back home to emily dickinson’s fuckass stone ivy cottage to be with your lesbian lover and they can call it what they want bc no one knows you like yourself? i know that’s right.

a few more crazy little details that must be documented:

• 7/24/24: There's a chain 'round your throat, piece of paper where I wrote, "I'll wait for you". There's a key on the chain, there's a picture in a frame. Take it with you and run, run from the law, darling, let's run, run from it all.

• 7/27/24 (the next show): “and he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown, and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars. now, pretty baby, I'm running back home to you, true love…I'm running to the house where you still wait up, and that porch light gleams. // I want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck, chain 'round my neck, not because he owns me, but 'cause he really knows me, which is more than they could say, I. I recall late November, holding my breath, slowly I said, "You don't need to save me. But would you run away with me?" Yes. So yeah, it's a fire, it's a goddamn blaze in the dark, and you started it. You started it. So yeah, it's a war, it's the goddamn fight of my life, and you started it.

• the first time she played TLGAD was with Run, a song that mentions a key on a chain. the second time she played it was in Ours x TLGAD, and she had one of her famous glitches. she started to play and then stopped and said, “that’s the wrong key Um, so wish me more luck than that.”

• the day after the first time she played TLGAD with Run, she played FOTS x This Love and ivy x CIWYW. before she sang ivy, she hit the note off-key (it sounded super on purpose), then said “well. sometimes you just don’t hit the right note, do you?”

• the first “great american dynasty” is the vision of the american dream she’s running from bc it’s “the wrong key,” the wrong note. she’s running back home to her own vision of the american dream, using performance art to physically represent her intentionality in making the different choice this time, in hitting the right note. and this love is ours, so you can call it what you want. it’s not theirs to speculate if it’s wrong 💞🌈 and they can’t take what’s ours

for evermore 🤎

#gaylor #friends of dorothea #lgbetty #taylor swift #swifties #theory

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guardian-of-fandoms · 4 months ago

Text

His head felt... clouded.

A low drone rang throughout the dark void, everything seeming Hazy and warped.

A dull roar nagged at his ears, something calling to him through the haze, until that sluggish cloud started to wane, and things suddenly snapped to a clearer focus. His eyes cracked open, a hiss escaping him over the assault of florescent lights.

"Hey."

He groaned, trying to adjust his eyes, feeling a dull ringing in his head, wincing at pain from varying places.

As his vision cleared, he tilted his head, seeing Kade to his side.

".... Hey...."

Cody scanned the area, realizing he was once again in the hospital.

He tried sitting up, hissing from pain.

"Hey, easy there, Hotshot."

"Ugh... feel like Optimus stepped on me... Twice... Maybe Three times..."

Kade carefully helped maneuver him, trying to avoid pulling on his bandages.

"How's the pain? Do i need to call Doctor McSwain?"

"No, no, it's fine. just... ugh..."

Cody met Kade's eyes, growing serious.

"What happened to Morocco?"

"You got him. Once you blasted him through the fence, the EMP Zone completely shut him down. We're going to take him apart and bury him there. He's never going to hurt anyone again."

"... It's... really over...."

Kade pulled away, and Cody took a moment to fully assess himself.

His clothing had been swapped out for a hospital gown, bandages covering his skin.

His left arm had various bruising and scratches, and a quick touch to his face revealed several bandages around the area. He could feel some tightly wrapped around his torso as well.

He cautiously glanced to his right shoulder.

The area had the heaviest bandaging of all, and a quick prod sent painful tingles spreading through the area.

He recoiled, and Kade sighed.

"I'm sorry, about that. The... uh... The cybernetics were too damaged to salvage, they had to completely remove the implant. But, your Frankie said they could build you a new one."

"Seems about right, i was due for an upgrade anyway, Doc and Frankie have to replace it every few years."

He suddenly glanced around, frowning.

"Hey, where is Frankie, anyway?"

"Doc took her to the lab to get some rest, she was wiped out. We promised to keep an eye on you until she got back. We were taking shifts, right now it's mine."

Cody digested the information, his eyes drifting down as his hand grasped the blankets on the bed.

"... Was... she worried?"

Kade absently nodded.

"Yeah, big time."

Cody went quiet, Kade spying the anxiety etched on his face.

"... We... hadn't talked in a while, before all this. Like, a while."

Kade frowned, trying to figure out a proper response.

".... Uh... did... something happen?"

Cody barked out a bitter laugh, his left hand absently rubbing his shoulder.

"You could say... more like a lot of somethings, really."

The room went quiet again, before Kade sighed, rubbing his neck.

"Look... i'm not... the best, with stuff like this, but... if.. you wanna... talk about it, or something... I'm here."

Cody looked up to meet his eyes, and sighed.

"... I... i don't really know when it started. But... After... After... I lost... Them... it was like there was this... This Hole, in my chest. This deep, dark hole. Because something was... missing. And i knew I'd never get it back."

His hand drifted down, balling the blanket up in his fist.

Kade's knee started bouncing, his foot absently tapping the floor.

"What... Happened after? Did... The Greenes take you in?"

"Kinda."

Cody unclenched the blanket, his hand brushing over the material.

"Uncle Woodrow took Custody. It wasn't easy, after all, he was mourning too. Doc and Frankie were basically over every day, whenever they could."

"Heatwave? You mentioned him earlier."

"Yeah... Heatwave was the only bot who survived. He.... took it... hard. Really hard. He was hurt, too. The blast messed up his leg. Ratchet did what he could, but the damage was permanent."

"Ratchet?"

"Team Prime's Medic. Optimus stopped by, after. Not often, haven't seen him in years. But sometimes he'd come by, check on Heatwave, and pay his respects."

Cody looked up, something hollow haunting his eyes.

"The... The town... built a memorial to you all, in town square. Near the Horace Burns statue."

Kade reflected a moment, clutching his hands together.

"... I'm... So sorry.... I'm so sorry...."

Cody leaned back, a shudder escaping him.

"... It hurt... So much... It still hurts, and I know it always will. That Hole? It just... kept growing. It hurt so badly... And after a while, it... changed. It was like a.... poison... A poison that seeped out, and started hurting the only people i had left."

He squeezed his eyes shut, his hand clutching his chest.

"I tried numbing it. I thought i could cope by shoving all the pain way down inside, stuffing it into this little box. And... That was what I did, for a while."

A deep breath escaped him, his eyes opening.

"I think that's when things started.... turning."

He met Kade's eyes, and Kade watched a darkness creep into them, reminiscent of when they'd first met.

"I don't really know where i got the idea, but... When i was 14... i started acting as this sort of.... Vigilante, around the island."

Kade was reminded of the Rescue Boy Incident, his brow creasing.

"Vigilante?"

"Yeah..."

He sighed, and that darkness started to wane, now looking... fragile.

"I have this Codename of sorts, Responder. I didn't really have a plan. Doc said I was just... looking for trouble, as a distraction or something. And i definitely found it."

"How bad?"

"Bad. I was.... aimless. Angry. Looking for something to.... do, i guess."

He clutched his head, his jaw clenching.

"I... wasn't alone at first. Frankie... Frankie was with me, for a while. She was helping me. I can't tell if she was doing it because she wanted to help protect the island, or because she wanted to keep me out of trouble."

A deep hiss escaped him.

"I... feel guilty, that she just wanted to help me... and I... pushed her away... I pushed them all away..."

They lapsed into silence once again, when Kade pointed over at a small bag on the floor.

"Oh, your gear is in here."

"Oh, thanks."

Kade hesitated a moment, before nervously asking,

"Hey... can you.... Show me that picture? In the Comn? I wanna check something."

"uh... sure..."

Kade handed over the Bag, and Cody dug through it, a leg from the pants and sleeve of the jacket spilling out, before he held up the old Comn.

"Here, careful."

He clicked it open, and gingerly handed Kade the old, tattered Photo.

Kade stared down at it, before reaching into his pocket.

"This reminded me of something, I went back to the firehouse to check. Our first mission with the bots, we took a similar Photo."

He handed it over to the Alternate, who softly gasped.

"Primus... It's... almost identical..."

Kade held the other side by side, and the two compared both images.

The posing and expressions of both families were essentially a perfect match, but Kade started to notice small differences.

The Alternate Dani had orange streaks in her hair, Graham had a different Tie, the alternate version of his dad had more white in his hair.

But what really jumped out to him, was the clothing.

Rather than his typical yellow, the Other Kade's uniform was a pale grey, the grey of the pants broken by the silver reflective streak towards the ankles.

Identical to the ones worn by this Cody.

Cody paused, realizing what Kade had figured out, and slowly nodded.

Kade carefully pulled the pants from he bag, checking the left leg.

Sure enough, he found what he was searching for.

Sewn into the bottom of the leg was a small cloth square, brandishing two initials.

K.B

Cody silently pulled the olive green jacket from the bag, pointing out a similar patch towards the interior of the neck.

D.B

"... I... I guess-"

"I think I get it."

Kade clutched his good shoulder, his expression soft.

"You... Couldn't let go, could you?"

"... I was afraid to... I... held onto everything i could. I felt like... i needed to, to remember them. To still feel connected, somehow."

Kade handed the photo back, and Cody tenderly folded it back up, closing the Comn once again.

"Did... You ever think about what was next? After you got Morocco?"

Cody paused, clutching the comn.

"I...."

He faltered, and as Kade studied his expression, he saw that Darkness return once again, but something was... different, this time.

There was almost a different layer of Darkness.

Not that hollow, numbing rage, No...

This was...

Broken.

Something empty, and sad.

An emptiness only filled by one solid mission.

Something clicked inside Kade, something Bitter and sad.

".... There wasn't supposed to be an "After", was there?"

Cody's silence said it all.

Kade didn't pry, and after a moment, Cody bowed his head, setting down the comn to rub his eyes.

".... At some point, i knew Morocco had to die for what he did. And... I guess... i thought I did too. After all... I helped him..."

His breath grew tighter.

"It didn't take long for the truth to come out. Everyone knew.... Everyone on the entire fragging island knew what I did."

"You were MIND CONTROLLED, it wasn't-"

"It was."

He met Kade's eyes again, that broken, hollow pain now filling him.

"If i hadn't gone after him alone, they wouldn't have died. That's my burden to bear for the rest of my life. I Can't change that. But.... I guess... I can figure out what to do now. Now that I have a "next."."

"You want my advice?"

Kade grabbed his collar, staring deep into his eyes.

"I know it's scary, but... You have to let go of them. They.... Well, I know I can't totally speak for your family.... But... I know I would've forgiven you. We would've wanted you to move on."

"... I'm scared... I... It feels like... I'd forget them... That i'd lose them again. Or like... I'm betraying them...."

He shuddered, and that broken fragility swelled up, dampness bubbling in his eyes.

"... I spent my entire life feeling like i was supposed to follow in their footsteps... My entire life, "The Burns Family Of Heroes", that hung over me. I felt like... If I wasn't continuing that legacy... Then.... Why was I even here? If I wasn't upholding that legacy, following in everyone's footsteps.... Then what's the point?"

That was like a punch to the gut for Kade, the raw emotion in the confession giving him a painful reminder to his own Cody's insecurities.

Insecurities that he himself had contributed to.

He gently squeezed Cody's good shoulder, saying softly, yet sternly,

"Hey. Legacy be damned. You haven't been letting yourself live, because you've felt like you don't deserve a life, but you do. Make your own legacy, your own path. Talk to Frankie, remake that connection."

"... I'm scared.... What if... I lose everything again.... or Hurt them again..."

"Other Bro. Listen to me."

Kade gently pulled away, taking his seat.

"Heh... Being a Bonehead runs in the family... Which means i know where you got it from. But listen to me, man. This stuff... sucks. it really does. It's hard to take that first step. I know i'm afraid of reaching out. It makes me feel... weak. And i'm guessing you got that from your Kade, huh? Just like how i'm probably passing it to my Cody."

Cody breathed, a loud, wet breath, some mix between a shudder and a laugh.

"It really does run in the family, huh?"

"Seems like it."

Cody grabbed the old Comn, staring at it contemplatively.

"... You really think I have a chance? That I can start over?"

Kade gave him a soft smile.

"I know you can. I know it's hard, but you've been through hell and back already, I don't think it's possible for this world to throw anything worse at you."

"Gee, how supportive."

The two shared a bitter laugh, before Kade glanced over, gripping his hands together.

"Hey... Uh... can I.. ask you something?"

"Sure?"

Kade sighed, rubbing his neck.

"On the topic of changing things... Uh... Well, I figure you'd know, y'know? I just-"

"Kade, spit it out."

".... Can you... Give me some advice? About... My Cody?"

Cody's eyes widened.

"... Advice? What do you mean?"

"I just..."

Kade groaned, burying his head in his hands.

"... Is there.... Anything I need to know, about him? Our dimension are different, it's not like you're clones of each other or anything, but... You would know, right?"

Cody thought for a moment, then gave a slow, sad smile.

"... He looks up to you, Kade, he really does. He admires you, he just wants you to be proud of him."

"... I'm always proud of him..."

"Then tell him that."

Cody held up the Comn.

"Family is fragile, Kade. My last words to my brother were ones i'll always regret. We never got a chance to really repair our relationship, but you? You have time. You want my advice? Just be gentle with him. Give him time to figure things out. Nudge him in the right direction, but let him make mistakes he'll learn and grow from. But most of all... watch his back, and I promise he'll always watch yours."

Kade smiled, nodding.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Suddenly, the door opened, and the Alternate Frankie charged in, followed by the rest of the team.

"You're awake!"

"Frankie! Yeah, i'm okay, mostly."

Frankie rushed to the other end of the bed, sighing with relief.

"Are you sure you're okay? I'm sorry about your Cybernetic, but Dad and I were working on a better model anyway, better accommodating to your Bio-Electricity. And we can improve the Neural link, and-"

"Frankie. It's okay, really, i'll be fine."

Frankie looked relived, grabbing his hand gently.

"Good.... Because when we get back to our Dimension... I'M GOING TO KILL YOU."

Everyone jumped at the abrupt switch in Frankie's tone, and the anger in her eyes.

Cody flinched, but shook his head.

"You know what? I deserve that."

"YES. YES YOU DO."

Frankie pulled away, groaning as she rubbed her forehead.

"Out of all the reckless and stupid things you've done... WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!?! TACKLING MOROCCO THROUGH A RANDOM PORTAL?!?! YOU COULD'VE DIED, YOU IDIOT!!"

"I know, I know, i'm sure i'm in for one hell of a lecture when we get back."

"Might wanna clear the next few days, it'll be a LONG one."

"I'll bet..."

He met Frankie's face, sighing.

"... We... need to talk, really talk, don't we?"

Frankie looked surprised, and Cody continued.

"I... Owe everyone some serious apologies. You, Doc, Heatwave, Uncle Woodrow... We need to talk."

Across the room, Charlie gasped at the sound of Woodrow's name, exchanging a look with Dani and Graham.

Fankie sighed, shaking her head.

"You realize you're really going to have earn our trust back? After everything you pulled-"

"I promise."

Cody reached out, leaning over the bed's railing to grab Frankie's hand.

"I... Want to be better. You... You were there for me. You were all there for me. You are the reason i'm alive, and you make me want to be a version of myself that's worthy of the love you've given me."

Frankie was speechless, her anger slowly melting away.

"I know i've messed up, but I promise you, I want to-"

Cody was cut off, as Frankie practically tackled him, wrapping her arms around him.

Both were quiet for a moment, as Frankie slowly whispered,

"... I missed you... I missed my best friend..."

Cody used his arm to hold her close, take taking a moment to enjoy the embrace.

"... I missed you too..."

Everyone was quiet for a moment, when a sudden cough came from the doorway.

Doctor Mcswain stood in the doorway, eyeing everyone with suspicion.

"So... Anyone here care to explain why Mister John Doe here happens to have a DNA Match for Cody Burns?"

Dead silence rang throughout the room, before the doctor shook her head, cracking a smirk.

"Y'know, Doctor Patient Confidentiality doesn't usually include Alternate Dimensions. But I guess I can adjust the clause in the paperwork. After all, this is Griffin Rock."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and the doctor held up her folder.

"Just about got his discharge papers sorted, then it's out of my hands."

Charlie flushed, obviously nervous.

"Right, uh, thank you, Doctor Mcswain. I trust you'll keep this little misadventure off the record?"

Doctor Mcswain only winked.

"You've got your job, i've got mine."

The doctor took her leave, and everyone glanced around.

Charlie held up a backpack, approaching the bed.

"We brought you a change of clothes. Nothing special, just some hand-me-downs, but I hope-"

"It's fine, thank you."

Frankie pulled away, and Charlie kneeled down, tenderly facing the alternate.

"Are you okay?"

".... I'm... not really sure. But..."

He glanced to his sides, first to Kade, then to Frankie.

"I think... I'm on the right track now."

The mood was somber, as everyone loitered outside the lab.

Yet, Frankie was unable to contain her giggle, as Doc giddily scrolled through the new data uploaded to his tablet.

"Creations from a parallel reality, Fascinating!!! You're really sure this is alright?"

Frankie laughed, nodding.

"Please, my dad would want you to have it, he'd probably say something like, "Who better to share my research with than myself?"."

Doc could only laugh.

"He sounds like my kind of person!"

The two laughed, before Doc set down the tablet.

"Now, you're sure you're alright?"

"I'm alright, I promise."

Doc could only beam proudly, his hand trailing to her shoulder.

"My dear, you've become a wonderful, brilliant young woman. Please, take care of yourself."

Frankie could only smile, leaning into his touch.

"I will, dad."

Some distance away, Charlie was nervous.

"You're sure you're comfortable?"

"I am, I promise."

Charlie sighed, absently adjusting the right sleeve of the jacket.

The gifted clothing had consisted of jeans, a brown tee shirt, and a soft yellow hoodie, slightly too large for Cody.

Charlie had rolled up the right sleeve, pinning it up, and was in the process of adjusting a backpack around him, balanced with a duffel bag containing his gear.

"You really didn't need to make me a care package, i'm just going home."

"I know, but... Just in case."

Charlie took a moment to really study the boy, staring deep into his eyes.

When they're first met, he's been unable to contain his his shock.

This boy, so different than the son he knew, with his broken, darkened eyes, scarred body, pain etched into his soul, he was almost unrecognizable.

Almost.

Now, as Charlie studied him, he was taken back by the change.

The light in his eyes had returned, something hopeful and new.

A new light that persisted despite the bandages around his face, and the old scaring and fresh bruising peeking out from beneath.

Charlie gently cupped his face, worry nagging at him.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

Cody sighed, leaning into his touch.

"... Only one way to find out, right?"

"Hey, Hotshot."

Kade walked over, his face tense from nerves.

"You... take care of yourself, alright?"

Cody only smirked.

"Right back at you."

He extended his hand, and Kade took it, smiling softly.

Dani and Graham walked up, Dani lightly elbowing the alternate.

"Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Graham nodded, nervously asking,

"Will we... Ever see you again?"

Cody shugged.

"Who's to say? If I've learned anything, It's that I can't predict where things go. But... I think I'd like that, if we ever meet again."

Cody pulled away, turning to face the Bots.

"Sorry again, about before."

Chase shook his head.

"While your previous actions cannot be condoned, I suppose it can be understood that they stem from a sensitive mindset."

Blades nodded, adding,

"Yeah, please don't do that again."

"I promise, Blades."

Blades nodded again, satisfied, as Boulder leaned in.

"I'm sorry, if it... Hurt, to see us."

Cody paused, sighing a moment.

"... A bit. But.. in a way.. It also feels good. At least i know you're all still alive somehow, even if it's not my reality."

Finally, he turned to Heatwave, his smile dimming, but an aura of sincerity settled over him.

"Thanks for watching my back, Heatwave."

Heatwave nodded, rigid, but somehow soft.

"I always will, kid, I always will."

"Hey, you ready?"

Frankie had pulled out a large duffel bag, and upon opening it, revealed the shattered purple gem of Morocco's power source.

She studied it carefully, before pulling out a small shard, and handing it to Doc.

"Keep this, just in case."

He nodded, and Frankie held out the rest, before pulling out a small, remote like device.

"Let's hope this works...."

Frankie held up the device, explaining,

"Breaching Dimensions wasn't exactly easy, it was a lot of trial and error to send me here. We had to piece things together from what we could find of Morocco's notes, combined with general experimentation. We were counting on Morocco's power source serving as a beacon of sorts, which it did, leading me right to you. Hopefully, this Beacon will work the same way, helping Dad to re-open the portal from their end."

Frankie held the Beacon close to the bag containing the purple crystals, and pressed down on the button.

The assembled team waited, a moment passing with bated breath as everyone watched in anticipation.

Then.

The power source began sparking, from the shards in the bag to the one held by Doc.

The purple energy began glowing, before a large, crackling, pulsating purple vortex opened up in the clearing.

Everyone stared, before Frankie checked the beacon, which lit up with an affirmative green glow.

"That's our ride."

The two alternates slowly approached the portal, before Cody turned around, gazing at the rescue team.

"I'm glad I could see you all again, and I hope we meet again someday."

Charlie nodded to him, his expression somber, but caring.

"If you ever need us, you know which dimension to find us."

Cody smiled, softly saying,

"Take care of each other. And... Thank you, for helping me find myself."

With that, he turned to Frankie, holding out his hand.

She clutched it, and with that, the two stepped through the portal, which closed behind them.

Everyone watched as the vortex faded away, the purple energy dispersing.

A melancholic feeling settled over the group, and everyone was left to reflect.

"I'm home!!!"

The firehouse door was eagerly thrown open as Cody burst in, the young boy clearly bubbling with energy and enthusiasm.

"The camping trip was crazy, but the weirdest-"

"HE'S HOME!!!!"

"AH!"

Cody was suddenly caught off guard as he was pulled into the air, dropping his backpack.

Blades held him up, twirling him in the air as he danced about.

"HE'S REALLY HOME!!!"

"BLADES, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!"

Before Blades could answer, Cody suddenly found himself pulled out of Blades's hands and Into Boulder's, with Chase looming over the other side.

"Oh, we're so happy to see you!!"

"Your return is most relieving."

"Guys, what's going on?!"

"Guys, calm down."

Heatwave sighed, coming into veiw.

"Sorry, Cody, things got a bit... weird."

Heatwave gently reached over, rubbing Cody's hair, before nudging Boulder.

"Alright, put him down, let him breath."

Cody laughed as Boulder placed him down, but clearly confused.

"Guys, I missed you too, but I was only gone for two days! It was just a field trip!"

Cody barely had time to get his bearings before the pounding of footsteps caught his attention.

"HE'S HOME!!"

Cody yelped as he was practically tackled by his siblings, finding himself crushed in a triple hug as Kade yelled,

"NEVER SCARE US LIKE THAT AGAIN!!!"

"WHAT HAPPENED?! WHAT'D I DO?!?!"

Behind them, Charlie rolled his eyes, but smiled.

"Alright, alright, everyone just give him some space, you're scaring him."

Reluctantly, Kade, Dani and Graham pulled away, leaving Cody even more confused, and slightly squished.

"What's going on?! Did something happen while I was gone?"

Everyone glanced between each other, and Kade cleared his throat.

"Nope, nothing... noteworthy, it was... boring."

Dani nodded.

"Super boring."

"Incredibly boring." Chimed in Graham.

Charlie chuckled to himself, kneeling as he met Cody's suspicious eyes.

"You... Could say we did some reflecting. We're just... happy to see you."

He pulled Cody into a hug, and Cody embraced him, despite the nagging feeling that he'd missed something.

"Are you SURE nothing happened? Oh, what about Cole?"

"Right, uh... Cole..."

Charlie pulled away, and Dani glanced at her brothers.

"He... Uh... His friend took him home."

"Is he okay?"

Charlie pulled himself up, taking a second to contemplate the question.

".... He will be. It was like you said, he was just... a bit mixed up. But.. I think he's headed in the right direction now."

"Actually, he left this for you."

Kade walked over, pulling a small piece of paper from his pocket.

"He asked me to give this to you before he left."

Cody took the note, reading over the message.

"Thanks for the help. Take care, Kid. - C.B."

Cody frowned, staring at the initials.

"C.B.... hmm... weird, He has the same initials as me."

The team's awkward silence was broken by Graham, quickly stammering,

"Uh... we... forgot to ask his last name..."

Cody shrugged, carefully pocketing the note.

"I'm glad you guys helped him, I was worried."

A light bulb suddenly went off in Kade's mind, and he motioned over to Heatwave.

"Oh, by the way, we..... found this."

Heatwave reached into his Cab, gingerly pulling out the Comn Tab, causing Cody to light up.

"Oh!! Whew! I was worried, i thought I lost it! Oh, the weirdest thing happened on the camping trip! Frankie and I went looking for her Frisbee, and I guess we got lost. but it was weird... Everyone said we were gone for about an hour, but it only felt like a few minutes."

Everyone froze at the story, and Charlie awkwardly took the Comn Tab from Heatwave, handing it to Cody.

"... Well... You know the legends about the forest, maybe the Fairies played a trick on you..."

Cody shrugged, tucking the Comn Tab in his jacket.

"Who knows... Eh, i'm sure it wasn't anything crazy."

The team could only stare blankly.

In Another Reality:

It was quiet, as the group made their way to town square.

Daylight blazed with it's dying hues of orange and red, and a cool, chiil breeze drifted through the air, urging Frankie to tug her jacket tighter.

The group came to a stop, and Frankie paused, taking in the scene.

"I'm surprised you asked us to meet here."

Cody sat on the ground, his posture limp as he stared ahead, gazing at two large stone fixtures, tarnished metal plates on each inscribed with a memorial.

He stood up, and slowly touched the first, his flesh hand trailing over the engraved leters.

Burns Family of Heroes. Charlie Burns Kade Burns Graham Burns Dani Burns Beloved Protectors of our Community Rest in Peace.

He moved to the second, much identical to the first, save for an Autobot Insignia engraved into the stone.

Rescue Force Sigma 17 Blades Boulder Chase Valued Friends and Family "Till All Are One."

A soft shudder escaped Cody, as he turned to face the assembled group.

"You know I wouldn't lie here."

Leading the rear of the group, Heatwave stared down at Cody, trying to ignore the ache from his limp.

"Cody, what is this?"

Beside Doc, Woodrow nodded.

"Yeah, what's going on?

Cody gazed at them, sighing.

"A promise. And... an apology."

Frankie's eyes widened, and the group took in Cody's appearance.

His new Cybernetic peeked out from the sleeves of a large bomber jacket, the Bronze color of the metal almost blending in with the deep brown of the jacket.

His long hair was pulled into a ponytail, his bangs loose and blanketing some of the bandages around his face.

Cody met their gaze, something soft and vulnerable within his eyes.

"I'm.... Sorry... I'm so sorry.... for everything... I know, that i'll have to work to earn forgiveness. To earn your trust again. But... This ordeal... It made me realize. I was afraid. I wanted you to turn your backs on me. To abandon me. Because I thought it was better to be alone by choice than risk losing everything again."

His cybernetic drifted to chest, pressing over his heart.

"The Pain was like a poison in my chest. It festered, and it seeped out onto you. I want to end this. I don't want this poison to spread any more."

It was then, that Frankie noticed a small hole in the ground, dug by the two memorials.

Cody held up a black case, and after cracking it open, they could see his Vigilante equipment nestled inside.

Doc couldn't contain his confusion, asking,

"Cody, what is this?"

Cody held up the old Comn, housing the photo he'd kept by his side for so many years.

"A funeral."

Cody gingerly placed the Comn inside the case, and closed it up.

The group watched as he knelt down, and lowered the case into the hole, and started to bury it.

"Responder is dead."

He smoothed the dirt over the hole, until the case was firmly buried.

He stood up, wiping his hands on his pants, as he stepped closer to the group.

"I want to change the way i've been going about this. I still want to protect Griffin Rock, but not out of Vengeance. I want to protect Griffin Rock to honor my family's memory. And... I can't do it alone."

He slowly approached the group, both hands extended.

"Can I earn another chance?"

Frankie was the first to grasp his hand, nodding as she stared deep into his eyes.

Woodrow and Doc were next, and Heatwave leaned over, extending a hand.

"We're with you, kid."

Doc cocked his head, asking,

"So, do you have a plan, for going about this change?"

"I might have an idea..."

Primary Reality:

Heatwave leaned against the firehouse wall, observing absently as he watched the humans of the team laughing amongst themselves as they threw a basketball around.

Kade suddenly noticed him, pulling away from the game.

"You good?"

"Yeah. Just... thinking."

"I get it."

Kade rested against the wall next to him, taking a breather.

"Still processing, huh?"

"I guess."

"It was a lot to take in."

Heatwave stared out at the game, watching Cody dart around the court, beaming as he ducked around Dani to throw the ball to Graham.

"Do you.... Think he'll be okay?"

Kade snorted.

"Which one?"

"Either, I guess."

Kade stared at the game, and shrugged.

"Who's to say? But... As long as we're around, we'll watch his back. As for the other... I think.... He's in good hands. It's not gonna be easy, and it'll take some time, but... I think he's gonna be okay."

That felt satisfying to Heatwave.

The uncertainty of the situation still nagged at him, but... He could accept that.

"Think we'll ever see him again?"

"Who's to say... But... like Dad said. If he ever needs our help, he knows which dimension to turn to."

In Another Reality:

Darkness blanketed the island, as two men moved through the shadows.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Relax, would'ja? I'm telling ya, this job couldn't be easier."

The first man opened the trunk to their van, rooting around.

"Weak security, no witnesses, pricey goods. This kinda tech is gonna make us bank on the mainland."

He handed the second man a pair of Boltcutters, who took them with clear reluctance.

"But what about.... Him?"

The first man only scoffed.

"Nobody's seen him around in some time. Rumor has it, somebody finally got him. They're saying the last time anyone saw him was fighting that old crazy guy."

"You really think he's dead?"

"We would've seen him around if he wasn't, right?"

He threw a bag around his shoulders, and closed the trunk. The two scoped the area, then began their mission.

They crept around the side of the warehouse, staying in the shadows, until they reached the back door.

The first man got to work, cutting the chain anchoring the doors closed.

The second man wasted no time, roughly throwing the doors open, seeming unconcerned as the chain loudly clattered to the ground.

"Jeez, at least be careful!"

"Oh, calm down, will you?"

The two made their way through the building, blanketed in shadows and silent darkness.

"Here!"

The second man smirked as he came to a large crate.

"Hand over those cutters, the prototype engines in here are gonna earn us a fortune!"

Just as he moved to comply, a loud crash caught their attention, the men whipping around to see the door slam shut.

"Ah, jeeze!"

"Calm down! Was probably just the wind."

But just as he said that, a low, distored voice rang out.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that...."

The first man dropped the cutters, whirling around in a circle.

"WHO WAS THAT?!"

The second man stood up, glancing around.

"Awww crap..."

"Screw the job, i'm out!"

The first man rushed to the door, but imnidently panicked, and started pounding away on it.

"IT'S LOCKED!!!!"

"CALM DOWN, MAN!!!"

The Two glanced around the room, before the second suddenly pointed towards one of the walls.

"WHAT THE-"

The two watched in terror as a figure with a blue, glowing aura, suddenly passed clear through the wall.

"I TOLD YOU THIS ISLAND WAS HAUNTED!!!! I TOLD YOU!!!"

The second man slapped the first, clearly agitated.

"SHUT UP, MAN! GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF. Just.. Just calm down."

The second man scanned the area, calling out,

"SHOW YOURSELF, YOU FREAK!"

The first man was trembling, fear clawing at him.

"Oh no no no...... This is bad, man..."

"For the last time, just-"

A low, deep laugh suddenly caught the men's attention.

The two slowly stared at each other, before turning to face the wall behind them.

The laughter grew louder, and louder, until suddenly,

A figure was thrust through the wall, the men greeted by a glowing blue figure.

It had black and blue armour, but the worst, was a helmet with a skull face, it's souless eyes seeming to bore into the men.

"Boo."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHH"

The two screamed, tearing off to the other end of the building.

"I TOLD YOU-"

"SHUT UP!!! JUST RUN!!!"

The two ran as fast as they could, the second grabbing the discarded cutters from the floor, and hurling them at a window, smashing it.

"GO GO GO!!!!"

The two practically threw themselves through the window, snagging themselves on the glass shards, but not caring.

They practically fell on top of one another as they scrambled out the window, bursting into the night outside.

They instantly charged around the building, sprinting towards the van.

Suddenly, a golden flash caught their attention, the two barely having time to look up as a figure burst into view from above, landing atop the car.

"Going somewhere, gents?"

The figure was clad in Bronze Armour, sparking gold electricity flickering around him, illuminating a strange visor, curved down in such a way to look like a Beak. Boots with metal Talons dug into the roof of the van, and the men could see similar claws on his hands.

But the most eye-catching detail, were the two enormous metal wings sprouting from his back, sparking and crackling with golden power.

The Second man stammered, recognizing the figure's voice.

"Responder?!"

The figure chuckled lightly, shaking his head.

"Call me Gryphon."

The men attempted to run the other way, only to freeze in their tracks at the sight of the terrifying figure from before.

The men realized they were trapped, and just as the panic set in, something hit them from behind, the men falling over as cables wrapped around them and restrained them.

Gryphon hopped down from the van, his wings carrying him down near the ghostly figure.

He tapped the side of his visor, smirking.

"Hey, Barney, we have a present for you. Yeah, that warehouse on Welker and Cullen."

He faced the two men, smirking as he pointed to his companion.

"Gentlemen, i'd like you to meet my associate, Ghost."

Ghost teasingly waved, and the first man only groaned.

"I knew we shouldn't have come to this island..."

"Shut up..."

"So?"

"So what?"

Cody pulled up his visor, smirking.

"Did you have fun?"

"What part?"

"Any of it! Going out there, doing this again, the bit."

Frankie deactivated her helmet with a small chuckle.

"I'll admit, the bit was fun."

"See, what have I been saying?"

"You also got your wings stuck in the door before we left, and I had to Phase you out, so my expectations were low."

"Hey!"

Cody put his hand to his chest in mock offense, and Frankie couldn't hold back a laugh.

He joined in, and the two approached the lab, seeing Doc, Woodrow, and Heatwave waiting for them.

"How was it?"

The duo exchanged a look, and Frankie smiled, nodding.

"I think this is going to work out."

"Excellent."

Doc motioned to the equipment before him, and the mass of purple crystals.

"Are you certain about this?"

The duo nodded, and Doc glanced to Woodrow and Heatwave, who both nodded as well.

"Very well, then. Let's see if this works."

Doc held up a small, remote like device. He carefully pried it open, and inserted one of the purple crystal shards, before screwing it closed.

Cody held out his cybernetic, flexing his wrist to retract the claws protruding from each finger.

Doc carefully affixed the device to the cybernetic, backing away slowly.

"Now, be careful, you don't want to overuse your Bio-Electricity."

Cody nodded, and concentrated, taking a deep breath as he focused his power, and fed it into the attachment.

The attachment started flickering with the purple energy, and as Cody pointed the cybernetic outward, His golden power combined with the purple of the attachment, opening a spiraling gold and purple vortex.

The team gazed in awe, as Cody could only gape.

"It actually worked..."

Doc nodded, observing the readings from his tablet.

"Energy signature confirms it, This is a successful dimensional portal. But to where it leads, is the question."

"The Multiverse is Infinite, right?"

"In theory, yes. The vastness of branching and interwoven realities is too great to fully comprehend. Anything could be awaiting through that portal."

"Anything, huh?"

Cody glanced over at Frankie, smiling as he extended his flesh hand.

"Together?"

She smiled, gripping his hand tight.

"Together."

Heatwave watched them, and could only smile.

"Be careful, kid."

"I will."

Frankie lightly elbowed him, smirking.

"I'll keep him in check."

Cody only shook his head.

"Don't you always?"

"When you let me."

The two chuckled, then stared into the swirling vortex, before charging in.

It was a large, strange universe out there.

But as the two dove into whatever awaited them, they felt secure, knowing they had each other's backs.

Whatever awaited them, they would face it together.

Huge, Huge thanks to everyone who's been following along with this story! This is a huge passion project of mine, as i've actually had the ideas for this story in mind for a very long time. It has changed considerably, originally my idea was Time Travel, but the multiverse turned out to be FAR better in the end. My biggest thanks go to: @gelu-the-babosa-multiversal , who's been very supportive and following this story from the beginning, thank you so much for helping nudge me to follow though on this idea.

@misss-americanaa , who has actually become a very dear friend directly because of this story, and major story elements and character development WOULD NOT have happened without her, thank you so much for basically co-writing this with me!

Tabby, one of my dearest weirdos of many years, thanks for indulging in my madness and encouraging me along XD, i've been tormenting her with my fanfic since 2021 XDDD

Huge thanks to everyone who's been following along with my madness XD, and if you really liked this story,

maybe

just maybe

I already have have plans for a sequel... or two....

>:)

it's been a wild road, and one i've been so happy to see through. My writing Playlist:

Hayloft ii- Mother Mother Eye For An Eye- Rina Sawayama All Eyes On You- Smash Into Pieces Scars- The Crane Wives Little Lion Man- Mumford & Sons Useless- Updog Class Clown- Silent Child & Aviva Epoch- The Living Tombstones Enemy- Imagine Dragons Bones- Imagine Dragons Pork Soda- Glass Animals

#transformers rescue bots #cody burns #kade burns #dani burns #graham burns #charlie burns #au #rescue bots au #frankie greene #Multiverse Cody AU

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