#i am in so much emotional pain right now why the fuck do these two have this much power over me i HATE IT

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 03. BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER

a/n: we are getting down to the nitty and gritty of this man's pain. and he's finally starting to the accept the fact that he has to talk about what happened to him. honestly out of all the chapters this one might be my favorite. solely for the soft vibes i tried to shove into what is already a very angsty story. also somehow wade weaseled his way further into this chapter than i intended him to. so enjoy the humor i've tried to add throughout. (i am reposting this since it didn't show up in the tags yesterday.)

summary: to open up was like taking a knife to a steel door. he never saw the use in letting someone in. but dinner spent in your company and conversations over wine and whiskey is where things begin to take a turn.

word count: 8.3k+ (i don't even know how tf that happened.)

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: partially explicit scene, angst by the bucket load, vulnerable and emotional logan, grief, trauma, heartache, fluff, domestic vibes, alcohol consumption, wade breaking the fourth wall, wade being a shit wingman, the beginnings of something more.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Blood poured over his hands and soaked into the ground below. The warmth of it coated his senses, dug into the grooves and lines of his palms. He swore he felt it down to his bones. Now permanently mixed with a version of him long forgotten—the man who used to smile.

Their shouts of pain rendered him immobile. Useless to help them, useless to save their lives. Useless. Useless. Useless. He fought against the restraints, the invisible shackles put there by his own hands. Whether to stop him from going or to keep him from harm—he'd never know—but he battled regardless. With a snarl, he felt them snap, his claws sliding free in all their familiarity. A weapon of destruction unable to be used for salvation.

When he began to run he felt it. The piercing echo of her. The power she emanated as they took her life, brought her to the brink of death. He felt her voice punch through his chest—puncturing him in his heart. She screamed his name with her final breath. Called out for his help; for him to save them all.

He could almost see her in his mind, the horror that befell a school of such powerful people. And he loathed himself for breathing. For living after they were taken so quickly from him.

His family. His home.

What once existed would no longer return. That alone broke him further than their deaths. The knowledge that his world—his universe—would be without their heroes. So much of their worth had been given to humanity. Only to be stripped of their lives within the blink of an eye.

And he couldn't save them. He could barely stand on his own two feet without stumbling.

"Logan!" The scream split along his skull, rupturing veins that healed far too quickly for his liking.

What the fuck was the point of his abilities if he couldn't put them to use? If he couldn't do the one thing they counted on him for.

Their blood stuck to him, burrowing into skin that would never scar. He'd never have proof of the wounds that rested along his heart. Forever damned to carry the weight of his own failure—the guilt that ate him alive. For what? To tell the story he could barely stomach himself? What was his life to the lives of those who meant so much more?

Why did he have to fucking live?

He stood on the doorstep. Death stained the walls, pierced the air with its pungent copper tang. He keeled over at the bushes, all the alcohol he'd consumed expelling itself from his body at the sight. His family was dead. His family was dead and he couldn't join them. He couldn't fucking die.

What once felt like a gift—eternity to find these people who loved him—now rang true with the only word that could make sense. Curse. His curse.

"No," he gasped, eyes bleary with tears as he scrambled to his feet and sprinted through the broken down door.

His claws came free, expecting a fight. Only to be met with silence. An eerie echo of nothing.

No laughter, no life, no chatter of students.

Nothing.

The breath ripped from his lungs as a blaring horn spilled in through the apartment's open window. In an attempt to get some cool air, he pushed the couch closer to what airflow there was. The only downside was hearing everything as he slept. Each little noise and loud mouthed fucker as they wandered the rather empty street. He wanted to leave—move to a better spot where humanity was sparse—but the pull of you across the street kept him there.

"Fuck," he grunted, eyes blinking away the nightmare that tore at his psyche.

The bottle of whiskey underneath the kitchen cabinet called his name. Offering a respite against the horrors he couldn't run from. And with a pained groan, he stumbled towards it—grabbing his coffee mug from the counter. The amber liquid felt bitter against the back of his throat. A familiar burn he welcomed.

He may not be able to stay injured, but this he could have. The darkness at the end of the bottle. The silence he found in collapsing drunk against the couch.

The streetlight outside lit the area filled with trash and the few people sleeping in darkened alleys. If he listened hard enough he could hear their heartbeats. Smell the pungent scent of the city as it seeped through the window. He could feel the thrum of New York beneath his feet—unfamiliar in its nature but home nonetheless.

The sight of a light flicking on grasped his attention—a glimpse of you staggering to the kitchen for a glass of water clear through your window. You should really get curtains, or blinds. He'd help install them for you. But then he'd never get this again. A small insight into your life, a peek into what he left behind a day ago.

Your lips against his still seared through his body—your moans and want for more left him breathless. And he had to go and fuck it up. Just as he did with everything in his life. He ruined the good. Corrupted the innocent.

Doing the same to you felt unfathomable—painful.

But how could he stop?

When you were catching his gaze in the window. Your glass of water was forgotten and the blanket dropped to the leather chair behind you. He left the bottle on the floor by the couch, his empty mug beside it as you grabbed for something. Logan yearned to hear your voice. To apologize for how he left things. But saying sorry never came easy and he found that keeping you at a distance was much safer than what he actually wanted.

The ringing on his phone broke his penetrating gaze. He reached for it quickly, pressing it to his ear as you brought your phone to yours. A breath was all that echoed through the small speaker—soft and warm. He swore he could feel it against his cheek. Hear the echo of your heart pounding beneath his.

"Can't sleep?" you uttered, finally putting his mind at ease. He exhaled a deep breath—hearing it fill your ears as warmth trailed down your spine.

"Nightmares."

You watched him stand still as stone. His fingers gripped the phone for assurance. A sense of stability from a past that had already cracked him in half. The sorrow in his eyes practically bled through the streets. Lapping at your feet like the waves on a shore. And in an act so unlike yourself, you took a step forward. You stood in his grief and offered to drag him to the sand—gave him hope that this world might treat him differently.

Logan wouldn't save himself because he believed he deserved it.

He'd save himself because he knew you deserved a better man.

"Do they happen often?"

The soft echo of your voice tinged with sleep set his mind at ease. For the first time that night he felt himself breathe properly. He could taste the sweetness in the air, the heat that clung to his skin held traces of you when you started to open your window.

Leaving you at your door suddenly felt like the stupidest decision he'd ever made. But the fear is what kept him at a safe distance. He couldn't hurt you here in this shitty apartment. He couldn't destroy what good you held in your heart standing here at an open window.

"Every night," he rasped. His hand clenched, the bones of his knuckles shifting as silver began to peek through the pierced skin.

He knew you could see it. He heard your heart speed up through the phone. And with a ragged sigh, he retracted them forcefully—hiding the beast within to present you with the man beyond.

"You don't have to hide them from me." If you turned, you'd see the punctures in your door you tried to hide with duct tape. The claws that came free because of your touch—your kiss.

They should have scared you.

Logan almost wished they had.

"You don't want to see that part of me honey," he muttered, watching as you stood closer to the ledge—your hand pressed to the chipped wood. "It's not all sunshine and rainbows."

You laughed and he felt it down his spine. "No. I think that's only in Wade's mind."

"Don't say that fucker's name please," he groaned. "Not while I have you here."

"Did I touch a nerve? Wolverine?"

Your smile deepened, mischief practically dripping from your words. Yet Logan couldn't help fixating on the way his title sounded off your tongue. The hero name he loathed for so long suddenly made his heart flip. He gripped the phone tight enough until he heard a faint crackling sound—his body going taut at the thought of you saying it under different circumstances.

Moving past the subject was all he could do. All he wanted to do.

"Why are you up bub?"

You sighed, leaning against the window frame. "Restless. Too much energy from the day."

"Not too much moving in the archives huh?"

"I'll have you know I walk constantly. It's a very demanding job."

He snorted. "Down to the end of the bookshelves and back?"

"Shut up." Your laughter echoed across the street and it nearly startled him how normal he felt. How human. "I can guarantee my job is a lot more work than yours."

"You're right. Saving the universe is nothin' when it comes to books."

"I'm going to hang up."

"Don't. I'll stop." Despite his serious tone, he didn't try to stop the chuckle you felt strike against your heart. The husk of its deep nature.

The memory of his touch still rang clear in your mind. How his lips molded against yours, his body firm and hot beneath your touch. You weren't restless because of work. In fact you felt the pain in your feet begin to spread up your calves the longer you stood there. You couldn't sleep because of him. Too busy replaying that moment to find time in your schedule to sleep.

"Logan." His gaze fell serious at the soft murmur of his name. "Tell me about your dream."

He bit back the urge to push you away, to claim he was fine. That nothing happened and acknowledging it wouldn't save him from himself. But that's not what you were trying to accomplish, and he knew that. He could see it clearly in front of his face. But he was a man hardened by the nature of silence—of ignoring his pain until it eventually withered and died inside him.

Changing that wasn't a battle he'd win tonight. Nor tomorrow.

He sighed, seeing how you fought back a yawn. "Not tonight honey."

"Why–"

"I will." Your breath echoed loudly in his head. He wished he could feel it. "I'll tell you everything. Just not tonight."

Your finger traced the silhouette of him against the glass. "When?"

"I don't know." He imagined your touch was against his skin, pictured how you'd trace the lines of his muscles. How you'd lick along his veins for a taste of him on your tongue. "Tell me about your day."

"That's boring," you groaned.

"Not to me bub. I like history." He smiled. "I used to teach it."

"Fuck off. Did you really?" You perked up within seconds, eyes alight as they were the other night. And Logan felt himself get dragged in a bit deeper. He knew he was fucked the second he saw you, but now...there was no stopping the inevitability of you. "I guess I learn something new every day. James."

He growled, low and hungry—pleasure filling his stomach. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish honey."

Silence filled the air and Logan felt the doubt pull at his nerves. He watched you lean into the glass, your scent filtering through the warm air. Sharp and heady. Darker than your usual honeyed sweetness; the taste of it spread along his tongue—shivers rolling down his back. You wanted him. No fuck that.

You needed him.

"And if I want to," you breathed, trepidation and hope overlapping in your words. "Finish this."

He bared his teeth in a grin that felt feral—as if he could taste your flesh. "We will," he stated with such severity. A promise lined in truth for once. "Now go on. Tell me about your day."

He awoke to the sounds of clashing pots and pans being tossed on the stove—the incessant beep of the coffee machine blaring off every thin wall. And Wade singing loudly—and horribly—to some fucking pop song from the eighties Logan would learn the name of against his will. He groaned, slamming his head back against the couch in the hopes that this was all a dream.

If he wished hard enough maybe he'd wake up to silence.

Or to you.

"Good morning peanut!" Wade's voice shouted, another bang sounding off behind him. "I've got coffee, Canadian bacon, and the final answer for what came first—the chicken or the egg."

Logan longed to stab himself in the skull. This quick healing factor became a fucking pain in the ass at the worst of times. He staggered into the kitchen, immediately wishing he'd drank the entire bottle of whiskey last night at the sight of Wade in a pair of white underwear and nothing else.

"What the fuck." He shut his eyes, reaching blindly for a mug and the coffee pot.

"Yeah..." Wade slammed the pan on the stove, a now broken yolk spilling over the edge. "Laundry day and Al called dibs on the top load. Just call me Risky Business."

Logan's sigh was ragged, beyond exhausted as he gulped down the first dose of searing coffee. "He wore a shirt in that fucking movie."

"Lookie here! Someone is up to date on their Tom Cruise movies. Don't tell me you're a Top Gun fan honey badger because I have some fucking news for you. We topped them for highest grossing movie of all time." Wade smiled as the destroyed egg slid onto a chipped plate. "Financially topped. Personally, I don't think scientology allows Tom Cruise to fuck anymore."

"I'm not listenin' to your fuckin' bullshit," he grunted, pouring another cup.

The charred egg was slid his way. "Aren't you gonna ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

Talking this early in the morning made the veins in his throat strain—his grip on the mug nearly cracking the porcelain. In times like this Logan felt the overwhelming need to throw his roommate out the fucking window.

If only to get thirty seconds of hearing him scream on the way down.

"What came first."

He moved to make another pot of coffee, ignoring the chatter that fell from Wade's mouth. In order to even feel coherent enough to make sense of it, he'd need four more cups. Or enough to bathe in if the morning didn't calm down. The sun blinded him as he turned to glance out the window; the air stale and hot choked his senses. He'd never felt this overstimulated before—this out of place.

"You look like you've seen better days in a horror movie. Up having late night phone sex?" Wade grinned and leaned across the counter—his head in his hand and love in his eyes. "Tell me about it, stud? Tell me more, tell me more. Did you get very far?"

"Oh god," Logan groaned, slamming the coffee pot back into place. "Can you shut the fuck up for once? I'm begging you."

"Did you beg her?"

His claws pressed to Wade's smug face—blood spilling against his cheek. "I will cut your fuckin' mouth off."

"I just wanna know why you're waiting so long to give her the Hugh Jackman."

"The what?" he growled, heat blistering against his face.

"Ya know." The crude gesture to his groin had him digging his claws directly into Wade's cheek. But even then he mumbled around the metal piercing his skin. "The package. The full shebang. Rock her like a hurricane—or whatever the fuck that German band was talking about. Cause I sure know she's aching for it."

"Don't fucking talk about her like that."

Wade smiled until his cheek sliced down to his mouth. The sight was disgusting enough for Logan to forgo wanting breakfast. And lunch. And dinner at that.

"You don't believe me! HA! Let me tell you, you're pretty but there's nothing going on up there." A tap on Logan's forehead forced the claws to sink just a bit deeper. "That sweet angel across the street is ready to save that horse and ride you instead cowboy. All. Night. Long."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Yet even as he said the words he felt the lie stick to the back of his throat.

Last night's conversation was proof enough that Wade was telling the truth. Even Logan could fucking see what was right in front of him. Someone beautiful, someone smart. Someone...he wasn't worthy of. If he combined all those factors he only came up with one conclusion. The longer he stayed away from you, the better you'd wind up being.

The safer you'd stay if he wasn't constantly shoving his way into your life.

The loud sigh from Wade's healing mouth shoved another wave of guilt into Logan's stomach. "Look. Ignore it all you want, but sooner or later you're gonna wind up with only your hand for some company and she'll find someone who actually wants to be with her."

Wade was right. For once.

What Logan didn't expect was the anger he felt at the visual of you finding someone else. The rage that nearly overwhelmed him. That's how it should be. You with someone better, a man who actually gave you a chance at a relationship. One that wasn't doomed from the very start. He let the thought simmer, chewed on it for as long as he could.

And not a minute later came to the answer he'd been looking for.

Logan would rip apart any other man without hesitation if they came into your life.

This wasn't a fling. He'd known that on his Earth and knew it now. He clawed his way out of a grave once to get back to you. And he would do it again and again and again. As many times as it took to make sure he got a glimpse of your smile, felt the love in your touch.

"Grab your shit we've got somewhere to be," he grumbled, shoving the burned egg in his mouth and washing it down with fresh black coffee to kill the taste.

"Yes! Now there's the Wolverine I know." Wade shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Logan couldn't tell if he was being vulgar or not. 

"Let's go bang your girl!" A snarl ripped through his throat, blood splattering on his bare chest as he pinned Wade to the wall—his claws embedded in the man's heart. "Or you bang her and I quietly stay at home with the window open to serenade you two with the sensual sounds of Marvin Gaye."

He grinned, eyes flashing over Logan's shoulder. "Directly from Sam Wilson's playlist if you know what I'm getting at Marvel fuckers."

On days where people were stuck at work and students infiltrated the library above, you found the solace of the archives to be everything you needed. For an hour you'd been placing books in their correct spots, labeling boxes to be housed somewhere new, and theorizing where you went wrong the other night when Logan left.

You didn't want to let the disappointment get to you. Nor should you. The phone conversation last night clarified enough for you to know him leaving wasn't your fault. It wasn't due to your kiss or even because he didn't want to be there. He simply hadn't healed from what his world did to him. Whatever Wade mentioned to you in a ramble of semi-seriousness gave you enough of a picture to know what that might have been.

No matter how much you wanted to help him; to make him see that you weren't scared of what he had to give. This wasn't your war.

Logan made sure you understood that.

That still didn't stop the swell of dismay at his actions. The belief that you weren't good enough to hear his story began to eat you alive the longer he pushed it off. Each comment came tinged with pain you'd never be privy to. Agony he wanted to endure alone.

You would give him the space he needed—the time that was required in order to heal from wounds you couldn't see. They were there. Dug into the shape of his heart—carved into the metal of his bones—but Logan wouldn't allow you to bear witness to that. To a broken side of a man who wanted to be better. If only he knew he didn't have to be for you to ache for him.

The thought of him alone left your heart twisting in your chest and stomach fluttering.

You slid another book into the correct spot, silence echoing like a void that went on for miles. Only for the ring of your phone to shatter it like glass. You scrambled for the device in your purse, breath filling your lungs at the sight of his name as it flashed across your screen. 

Maybe this made you seem desperate—a type of clingy that would make any other man run. You couldn't find it in yourself to give a shit.

"Logan," you said—his name leaving your mouth in a breathy manner you regret within moments.

"Oh shit girl you've got it bad."

The pounding of your heart jumped at the loud echo of Wade's voice blasting through the small speaker. "Wade?"

"The one and holy." To say you were perplexed felt like an understatement. But before you could spill the millions of questions on your tongue, Wade kept going. "Hey! What kind of wood do you prefer?"

A loud rumble of an engine blared in the background—killing your ears. "What?"

"Oh right fuck me. Silly question. There's twelve thousand words already written about what type of wood you prefer." He laughed as the sound came again. "I'm talking the tree kind. Got a preference for scents?"

"She's not gonna be able to smell it you dumb fuck!" Logan shouted. You heard an audible screech before a loud rustle had you pulling the phone from your ear with a groan. "Honey?"

You smiled, walking towards the part of the room that didn't echo with your voice. "I'm scared to ask what you guys are doing today."

"Oh," he chuckled. You wished he'd bought a better phone, longing to see each expression that crossed his face. "I owe you a door."

That kiss reemerged in your memory once more. Burning through your body in quick rapid strokes. As if Logan was fanning the flames of something stronger—a fire that you wouldn't be able to control. You imagined what he looked like at this moment, if he still wore the exhausted look of grief from last night. Or if he'd covered it with a mask of annoyance due to Wade.

"I can just call the building manager to fix it." You put it on your list of things to do today already, but the idea of seeing Logan again was too tempting to pass up.

He huffed, falling silent. Wade's voice shouting about the Lorax became all you heard for a brief moment—Logan no doubt figuring out what he could say to fix this. The glimpse of him last night had set your teeth on edge in a way you'd never experienced before. You felt you could sink your canines into the tension and rip it to shreds with ease.

"Where I come from it's only right to fix what I broke."

What he broke.

This wasn't about the door. You could see it clearly in the pained way he spoke his words—each one more clear than the last. Leaving you in a rush with no fucking explanation left him worried that you weren't going to be around if he kept pushing you away. You were something good—a light he sought in the darkness he found himself in—and messing up this chance wasn't going to happen twice.

He'd done this before. He pushed those he loved away.

Doing the same with you only made his chest echo with the hollow emptiness that he'd grown tired of feeling.

"You can fix my door under one condition," you said, effectively breaking the silence.

"Anythin'."

The flutter in your chest felt lethal when he spoke to you like this; open and willing to bend where you wanted him to go. A man had never given you this before. The attention, the knowledge that he wanted all of you. Not just sex, or meaningless conversations. He wanted every piece you were open to sharing—every dark crevice and thought you felt embarrassed about.

You only wished he'd understand you wanted the exact same thing from him.

"Dinner. My place. Seven p.m."

Fuck what you wouldn't give to see his smile as he let out a sigh of relief. "I won't be late."

You smiled, worrying your lip between your teeth—that familiar gooey warmth now back in your chest. "You better not be."

"I've got great timing honey. Got nothin' to worry about."

Bullshit. You nearly said it, but a loud shuffle and a few bitten off curse words—mainly growled on Logan's end—cut your conversation short. A triumphant laugh you could only figure to be Wade's pierced your eardrum as the phone was unwillingly handed off once again.

"I just want to let you know I've got money on whether or not he nails you tonight. So don't let me down cupcake."

"You're betting on this?" you exclaimed, loud enough to hear your voice bounce off the walls and echo back to where your supervisor was no doubt sitting.

"Of course. I'm not one to turn down the sleazy art of gambling." He sighed wistfully. You'd never wanted to punch someone more in this moment; suddenly aware that this is how Logan must feel every day of his life. "Besides if you heard the sounds that came out of our shower this afternoon. Oh ho ho. Something tells me that he was letting off some Steam Boat Willy to the thought of his late night phone buddy."

Disgust at Wade's words was rapidly overshadowed by the thought of Logan in the shower. Naked and desperate to find some release after your conversation last night. To say you hadn't pictured what he'd look like hard and aching from your touch would be a lie. But actually knowing that's what happened left you winded.

Your chest heaved as your body grew warm—the image of him with his hand around his cock, his head thrown back in pleasure, almost made your knees give out.

"Your thinkin' about it huh?" The overconfidence in Wade's voice snapped you back to reality within seconds.

"Shut up."

"Got ya red handed angel."

With a roll of your eyes, you made to head back to your work—Wade's words only served to fluster you more than you wanted. "Don't piss him off too much okay Wilson?"

His laughter nearly appeased you as the piercing sound of a saw went off again. The both of them must have ventured to a warehouse to find materials. You wanted to confirm your thoughts when Wade did it for you. As if he could hear you loud and clear.

"Who knew our man had lumberjack experience?" He sighed dreamily, a shout of what you guessed was Logan saying fuck off filtering through. "God it's like watching X-Men Origins Wolverine. Back when his hair screamed Staying Alive and I went by the name Billy Butcherson."

A cough from behind you gave enough notice that you had in fact been caught by your boss—her glare burning through the back of your skull. The short break you were allotted passed five minutes ago. Normally you'd be fighting your way to the end of the day. Today though...you felt that delicious bite of excitement at knowing you'd be spending tonight with Logan.

"I've got to go. But Wade..."

"Yeah?"

"Take a picture for me will you?"

"Already done. Got my phone set to burst. Which is what Logan's gonna do tonight instead of tainting our shower walls–" Logan's roar of I'll fuckin' kill you came seconds before you heard a thwack overlapped with Wade's high shriek. 

The line went dead instantly.

The elevator wasn't moving fast enough for your liking—each flash of a floor passed sent another wave of nerves through your body. Work dragged on longer than you expected. And the groceries you picked up on the way didn't feel like enough to make a meal grand enough for a night like tonight. You tried to destress by saying he wasn't expecting much. This wasn't even a date.

That is until you realized...that's exactly what this was.

A date that felt long overdue.

You hadn't known Logan long enough to pursue a relationship as deep as this, but that's where things got fuzzy. He knew you. Or a version of you that felt entirely different to the person you were now. And maybe that's where the security that this would last came through. The knowledge that no matter what happened, Logan was in this for the long haul.

This wasn't temporary.

A creak of the doors opening didn't deter you from digging through your mountain of thoughts. Each one more worrisome than the last. You should be terrified that this was it. The future had already been written and Logan was at the end of the road. That alone would be reason enough to turn tail and run.

Then you turned the corner leading directly down your hallway.

Logan stood leaning against the wall, a lit cigar in his mouth, smoke trailing past his lips, and a heavy wooden door placed directly beside him. A toolbox that looked to have seen better days sat by his feet. A bouquet of honeysuckle and peonies placed directly on top—wrapped in brown paper with a yellow and blue bow.

Whatever fear might have lingered in your body dissipated when his gaze found yours and his lips pulled into a smile.

"You're early," you said—desperate to catch your breath. The scent of his cigar lingered on your senses, mixing with the leather of his jacket.

Suddenly Wade's words from earlier felt a lot more real than you expected. He showed up dressed casually. Jeans, flannel, the familiar dog tags strung around his neck. Yet whatever transpired the night before came rushing back with the promise of more.

This was a date. But whether it would lead to something else you'd leave entirely up to him.

"I told ya I had great timing honey."

Heat trailed down your body where his eyes followed. "I didn't believe you."

"I know."

The claw marks on your door brought a flustered smile to your face. As if to say you were okay with them staying. You wanted them to stay. Logan's eyes darkened at the sight, a flash of something worse taking hold of his mind as you pushed it open.

You longed for him to tell you the truth. He wouldn't either way. But the hope still remained—lingering on the edges of your heart.

"Easy enough to fix," he muttered, reaching for his tools—the bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in his large palm.

"I didn't know what exactly to get." He stood in your living room, eyes trained on the window. Finally he was on the other side—in your home—and yet he found he didn't belong here. "Do you have a preference?"

He sucked in another drag from the cigar before pulling it free—stamping it out on his palm as you watched. A heady wanton look crossed your features. You doused it quickly in favor of unpacking the groceries. He made sure to store it away for a later time. One that didn't feel dragged by the weight of his own thoughts.

"I'm not picky."

You nodded. "Feel free to use whatever's useful. I don't have tools though."

"I came prepared bub." He lifted the box with a smile and suddenly recalled that he bought you flowers. Much to Wade's annoying comments about this being a first date. Logan wouldn't push you in any direction you felt uncomfortable going towards. But in an irritating turn of events, Wade was right. Twice. "These are for you."

The smile on your face was worth every dollar and excruciating minute spent picking out what went with what. He reminded himself to thank Wade. Even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"They're beautiful." The delicate white lay atop pink flowers that filled your senses. An aroma you'd never known could work so well together. "Why these?"

A touch of crimson began to tint the tops of his ears as he let out a breath. "They're uh..." He coughed. "The day we met I said somethin' kinda awkward."

"I smelled different."

"Yeah." Logan wanted to bury himself six feet under at the teasing glint in your eyes. "That's how you smell. To me. Like honey and flowers."

There had to be an explanation for the way your heart split down the center—as if to offer him one half. To give him a part of yourself that once didn't belong to him. But that's where you were wrong. Even in a different universe, he would find you. You were once everything to him; the person he'd go through hell for. That fact never changed. Even if you did.

You wanted to spill every emotion, every truth about how your heart already longed for him in ways that left you reeling. But Logan wasn't a man to speak longer than he had to. And before you finally gained the courage to open your mouth, he was stepping back into the hallway. His hands busy with a project and mind eons away.

Dinner was simple to cook knowing he'd eat whatever you made. Pasta, some wine, and an old bottle of whiskey a friend of yours bought sat on the table as he put the final touches on the door. You'd spent the time at the stove combing over every word spoken. Every minute touch and fleeting look. As he worked effortlessly on setting your new door in place.

A dark honeyed wood with grooves throughout that almost resembled the small panes of a window. The quality was stunning. Beyond anything you'd seen before.

You wanted to prod and ask where he learned to do this. But the sight of him slightly sweaty, flannel tossed into his toolbox, and arms on display when he carried the door to its spot, left you dazed. Each movement caused the muscles beneath his skin to ripple—face screwed in a look of concentration while the sound of the drill echoed off the hallway walls.

For a moment you forgot dinner was cooking as you practically ogled his form. That familiar flame burned through your body when his gaze met yours and a smile crossed his lips.

Logan could feel your eyes on him—the aching burn of your gaze now seared into the bare skin of his arms and shoulders. And he fought himself to keep going. To ignore your now heady scent—the way your heart sped up with each shift of his body—and finish what he started. If he was being honest, which he rarely was with himself, he put on a show for you.

You liked him.

He just wanted to reaffirm that fact once in a while.

The smell of slightly burnt garlic had him biting back a smile as you rushed to fix what his distraction caused. His ego swelled. Heart pumping with a sense of pride the second he caught you flustered with your head bowed in the kitchen.

"Smells delicious honey," he said, testing the lock on the door a few times until he felt satisfied with his work.

"It's not much." You popped open the two types of alcohol, pouring a generous helping of wine in your glass. He fixed himself his own whiskey. "Something my sister taught me when I was in college. She believed if there was nothing else to cook, pasta was always the correct answer."

"Smart woman."

You pushed the plate his way and caught the grin he hid at the small act of domesticity. What began as a nerve-wracking date became an insight into what your future with him might look like. Dinner at a tiny kitchen table, his jacket draped over one chair, the scent of flowers twining together with the faint traces of his cigar.

A life that felt perfect enough to keep forever.

"I hope you know Wade's betting on tonight," you said, pouring another glass of wine.

You were settled next to him on the couch, dinner resting full and warm in your stomachs. The alcohol tasted sweeter on your tongue compared to an hour ago. He lounged with his legs spread, glass balanced in one hand. A lazy look of satisfaction in his hazel eyes.

Logan had never felt this comfortable. Soothed by the scent of you beside him, the whiskey on his tongue, and the sight of you with your legs curled beneath you. The red wine made you smile more, laugh easier. He noticed how you bloomed before him, light shimmering between small jokes and half assed teases.

All his life he wondered what home would truly feel like. What would having a place be? And this...you beside him with an endless night stretched before you, gave him the answer.

Home felt like you.

He groaned, head falling against the back of your couch. "He's a lucky fucker with that can't die bullshit. What's the bet?"

Your eyes dragged to the door—tracing the carved marks as his hand hesitated to settle on your thigh. "That you'd and I quote nail me."

"What?" he spit.

The laugh that bubbled to the surface echoed with the heady effects of too much wine. "I hate to break it to Wade. But I don't have sex on the first date."

Logan's lips turned up, hand finally against the bare skin of your leg. Your skirt fanned around your lap, covering your soft skin that lay beneath. "So this is a date huh?"

"Yeah." He tugged you closer. "At least I think it is."

"I think so too."

Unconsciously, you toyed with the chain of his dog tags, catching a glimpse of the worn letters of his name. Any other time you'd push the questions away. You would claim that tonight wasn't the right time. After all this felt good, right in ways nothing had before. But the wine made you loose lipped. Braver than the other times you pushed past the line he drew deep in the sand.

Except this time...he started the conversation.

"You asked about my nightmares last night."

Your eyes caught his, fingers stilling against his chest. "I know you don't want to talk about it."

He shook his head with a deep exhale he felt down to his stomach. "If this is what I think it is. What we're startin' here. Then you should know what you're getting into honey."

"I know what I'm getting into–"

"No. You don't." He sat up straighter, tugging you close until your legs lay over his lap. "You don't know what happened to me. What I did..." He sucked in air as his heart began to twist. The cold wash of anxiety suddenly brighter than a few minutes earlier. "What I couldn't do."

The pain in his eyes chipped off a piece of your heart. Oh how you longed to give it to him.

Cupping his cheek, you felt the scratch of his beard against your skin. "Logan. You're not a bad man."

"Yeah bub. I am," he barked in a half laugh meant to discourage you from seeing his grief.

That's what this was. The full spectrum of his emotions scared the shit out of him more than any villain he fought. More than the thought of dying alone one day. The moment you saw them for yourself, he knew you'd run. He almost expected it. Which is why he'd taken so long—put it off each time the curiosity lingered in your gaze longer than he liked.

He told himself you didn't need to know.

It was better this way.

Tonight proved that all those reasons—all those excuses—stood no chance when it came to you.

"I don't believe that," you whispered, your other hand curling around his dog tags.

"Gotta remember I'm not him. I'm not the hero and never have been." When you looked at him like that—eyes wide and lips turned down—he felt the full weight of the words he was about to say out loud. Words he hadn't spoken since Laura met him by the fire way back in the Void.

Somehow saying it to the other Logan's daughter felt easier. As if he couldn't disappoint her anymore than he had. She'd been there at his death, watched him struggle to protect her, and loved him in spite of all that. She called him Dad and spoke over his grave with a smile. Knowing full well he'd never come back to life, he'd never find his way back to her.

Laura wasn't his kid and yet...he knew she'd understand.

But saying it all to you…

He wasn't sure he'd survive it if you never understood.

"The X-Men in my world weren't as respected as the ones in yours. We were heroes, but the humans. God they fuckin' hated us." His eyes burned with each memory that came rushing back. A river that threatened to drown him. "And I always had to be an asshole. I didn't know what home felt like—what...family felt like. So when I got it, I pushed it away."

"Oh, Logan–"

"No, let me...let me finish honey." He gripped the glass until he heard a crack—his eyes dazed and mind lost to a different time. The night that would later become his ghost. "So I left and did the only thing I was fuckin' good at. I drank until I couldn't feel anythin' anymore. And the humans decided they'd had enough of the X-Men."

Grief struck your heart straight down the center. Tears spilled down your cheeks at the sight of him so broken—so raw from a time that would never leave him. You finally knew why Wade never explained it to you.

This wasn't his story to tell. Not his past to share.

"I came home and they were–" His fingers dug into the skin of your thigh in an attempt to ground himself. Claws slipping free as he struggled to get the final words out—the truth of why he pushed you away. Why he should keep pushing you away. "They were dead."

You pressed yourself against his side, lips against his temple as he silently bit back the emotions he refused to set free. What would become of him once they were finally out? He couldn't risk hurting you because of it.

"They called for me." His breath was ragged, voice thick with tears that never fell. "Jean. Charles. I heard them die in my head. But I was too fuckin' drunk to save them. I got home and all of them were...Jesus. The humans called us mutants vicious, but I'd never seen anythin' like this."

The worst part crawled up his spine with a chill that had his claws coming free. "And you. You survived due to your gifts. Apparently you hid in the future—snapped there without even realizing it. But by the time you returned they were dead and no matter how many times you tried to go back, you couldn't." He raised his head, eyes red and glassy. "You tried to kill me that night. I couldn't blame you for it cause I wanted to die."

"That's not me."

He shook his head. "I know, but you have to know why it happened. I couldn't protect you honey. I couldn't protect any of them."

"The humans did this. Not you." You dragged his face to yours, forcing him to see the sincerity in your eyes—the fire that burned no matter the variant. "You did not kill your family Logan. Don't take their shame."

"It's easy for you to say that bub. You weren't there." He felt your touch mark against his skin and fuck how he wished it would leave a scar. "I'm not the fuckin' hero. I'm the man who fucked it all up because he was too proud for his own good. I need you to see that."

Your gaze hardened. "Why?"

"So you know what you're gettin–"

"Bullshit," you demanded. "I know exactly what I'm getting into Logan. I knew the second I met you. So don't do that. Don't push me away." The press of his forehead to yours leveled the pain and allowed him to breathe. "I'm here to stay. Whether you want me or not."

He grinned, tears finally falling as your lips found his. You breathed life back into his chest, made his heart worth beating again. For all that time he damned himself, loathed the reflection in the mirror, he never thought he'd get this. The soft press of your kiss, the bitter tang of wine on your tongue as his hand gripped your hip—his claws retreating back into his body.

"Trust me. I want you," he mumbled against salt stained lips and broken smiles. "I'll always want you."

"Then it's a good thing I want you too."

That familiar flicker of sparks still existed in the air, begging for more. But you were content to stay here. Kissing him over and over again in order to embed the sensation in your mind.

"Thank you for telling me," you sighed, fingers curling into his hair to drag his lips back to yours.

The thud of his heart ran through his whole body. "Can I show you somethin'?"

You nodded, pulling away as he dug into his pocket. As much as he longed to keep kissing you, to spend all night right there on that couch. He knew there'd be time for that. A night where you were both unburdened by the weight of a past that defined who you were. Tonight was not that night.

The picture was old, burned slightly at the edges and crinkled, but he handed it over with a grin. A group photo like the one stored in the archives at your job. Only this time you recognized two faces among the small team of people in yellow suits. You were smiling with an arm around Logan's waist, your face pressed against his chest.

The sight of his smile—wide and unfiltered—made your heart leap. But the blue aura that seemed to wrap around your body is what gave you pause.

"The blue..."

"Your powers." He pointed to the way it ended at your hands, seeming to stem directly from your chest. "Turning them off wasn't really a thing you could do. Somethin' about time being a constant flow of energy. Charles always explained it better."

Thousands of questions came to mind. All of them pertaining to the powers and the team and more specifically him. He sunk into the couch with a sigh, his eyes hazy with a different kind of need. An ache that no doubt begged him each night. Sleep. Rest without any nightmares, free of the shackles he'd placed on himself.

So you stood, nearly startling him when you did. Nothing had to be said about your intentions, or why you held out your hand for him to take. He simply followed. Each step heavier than the last. The kitchen could be cleaned tomorrow, the bottles put away later. You couldn't find it in yourself to care when his hand was in yours and he smiled at you as if you'd hung the moon in the sky.

"Thought you said Wade was losin' tonight honey?"

You laughed, pushing the flannel from his shoulders as you led him to your bed. "He is. We're just sleeping."

There was no mistaking the doubt in his eyes, the trepidation of his nightmares. "I might hurt you."

"No you won't." Drawing his hand up to your mouth, you lay a kiss along his knuckles. "I trust you Logan."

"You shouldn't." His breath was a shuddered exhale at the sight of you pulling your dress up and over your body.

"Well too bad," you replied, tugging the covers back while he pulled off his shirt—leaving his boots by the door. "You don't scare me Wolverine."

"Wolverine huh?" Crawling into bed with you was easy. Though the mattress sunk under the weight of his bones, you still let him tug you closer—his arms wrapped around your bare waist. "It was James the other night."

"Careful," you said. "Or I'll start calling you Howlett."

A growl rumbled in his chest, his teeth nipping at the bare skin of your shoulder as you laughed. And suddenly he remembered what it was like to live. To want more than just the bottom of a bottle and a peaceful night's sleep. He could recall nights like this in the past. A different you curled up against his body—the love resonating in how you clung to him.

It all slammed into him at once.

Although tonight he didn't push it away. He kept you close, his nose burrowed in your hair, and welcomed the gentle tug of a few hours rest.

Tonight—for the first time—he slept.

Without nightmares.

[freedomfireflies]

Always*

Summary: The fifth and final part to 404*

The one with car crashes and closet sex.

Word Count: 4.3k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

Arrogant Twat: Playing hooky, that’s not like you

Arrogant Twat: You’re not that cool

Arrogant Twat: I can see you reading my messages you know

Arrogant Twat: So if you’re ignoring me, it’s not working

Arrogant Twat: …okay seriously this is really fucking childish, are you really not gonna come to work just because I won’t fuck you?

Arrogant Twat: It’s been three days, Princess, you can’t hide from me forever

You: You are so fucking annoying, I am not hiding from you, I’m SICK

You: This may come as a surprise, but my world does not revolve around you or your cock

You: So if you don’t mind, I need to go throw up

Tossing your phone down onto the bed, you rush into the bathroom to grasp onto the sink and brace yourself over the porcelain. Silently willing your body to comply, to keep the fluids down. You don’t want to be sick, but thinking about Harry always tends to make you.

You smirk to yourself at the joke before running your hands under the cold stream of water to gently rinse off your face. Needing to feel something cool against your feverish skin before you slink back to bed.

Truth be told, you don’t mind the break from work. And from Harry, specifically. Sure, you understand why he ended things. And you aren’t exactly upset about it, seeing as he wasn’t really that great of company to keep.

But he’s angry. You know he’s angry, and that’s why he claimed he wanted to stop. And you feel guilty over having pushed him there, you do. After all, you knew better. You two don’t talk about anything personal. You don’t ask questions, you don’t pry. You don’t show any sort of emotion or understanding. 

You broke the one rule. And truthfully, you aren’t quite sure how to face him now.

Overcome with fatigue, you slump back down onto your bed, and disappear beneath the covers. Pulling them up to your chin as a shiver rolls down your sweaty skin, all the way to your fuzzy sock-covered toes. 

You try to watch some television to get your mind off the pain and congestion but find yourself growing sleepier with each quippy remark from Chandler Bing.

And before you know it, you’re out like a light.

The sharp chime of your cellphone is what wakes you. Pulling you from a rather odd dream as you groggily roll over and attempt to find the noise. 

It’s a text message, followed shortly after by another. And once you manage to sit up and rub the sandman from your eyes, you see who it’s from.

Arrogant Twat: Open your door

Arrogant Twat: And hurry up, it’s fucking freezing out here

Curious, and a tad startled, you glance toward your bedroom door, almost as if expecting to see him.

He can’t possibly be outside of your apartment building right now. He has no idea where you live, nor would he ever have any desire to be here. This has to be some sort of prank. He’ll get you to walk outside into the freezing night air only to realize he’s nowhere to be found.

That is the Harry you know.

Arrogant Twat: For the love of God, Tinkerbell, open the fucking door before I freeze my ass off

With a huff (and a cough), you fling your covers back and pad over to your window, glancing down into the street.

And there he is, a dark shadowy figure lurking on the steps to your building, angrily glaring at his cellphone.

You feel your heart start to pound, overcome with confusion and intrigue. You don’t understand why he might be here or what he could possibly want so late at night. You’re tempted to send him away, or pretend he has the wrong address.

But you can’t deny that you’re curious as to what he might want or what he’ll say. Especially after the way things ended. Perhaps he’s merely here to catch you up on what you’ve missed with the project. Or maybe he just wants to complain in person.

Either way, you slip on some pajama shorts and a large, oversized sweatshirt for comfort, and head for the door. 

With a deep breath, you buzz him in, and wait anxiously as the sound of steps echoes through the stairwell and between the halls. 

No matter what happens, you’ll stand your ground. You don’t have the energy to fight him today. If he’s coming into your home, he’ll play by your rules.

There’s a knock on the door. Sharp and precise as you exhale shakily and step closer. Fingers curling around the doorknob before you swing it back and come face to face with the troublemaker himself.

He stands in the doorframe, a dark hoodie pulled over his head, and glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. 

In his right hand, he holds a brown bag, allowing it to dangle casually at his side while his eyes rake up and down your figure.

“Shit, you look terrible,” he snorts, pressing his shoulder against the entryway. “Worse than usual, I mean.”

Your expression falls, a glare beginning to form. “Well, this was fun. Buh-bye now,” you huff, already beginning to shut the door in his face.

However, he’s quick to outstretch his hand and smack his palm against the wood, keeping it open. “Okay, all right. Geez, it was just a joke. D’ya lose your sense of humor or something?”

“No, that just wasn’t funny,” you retort, but allow the door to stay ajar. “What do you want?”

He lifts the bag into the air and shakes it once. “Brought you soup.”

You blink. “You…what? Why?”

He shrugs once. “Cause you’re sick,” he says, now brushing past you to make his way into your living room. “And I’m nice.”

“Uh…no,” you nearly scoff, turning around to watch him flop down onto your sofa. “You are anything but nice to me, and you know it.”

“Well, I’m being nice today.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why? Is it poisoned or something?”

You catch his wry smile as he begins to unpack the items and set them onto your coffee table. “Guess there’s only one way to find out, yeah?”

Hesitantly, you shut the door, and follow after him. Cautious of his intentions but drawn to the smell of the delicious food.

He hands you a bowl and some cutlery – which you take rather tentatively – before he straightens up and stares at you. “Are you gonna sit down?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, eyeing the only spot available beside him on the couch. “Are you still gonna be an asshole?”

“Probably.”

You huff but catch yourself smirking. “Fine, but scoot over.”

With an amused exhale of his own, he does as instructed, moving toward the edge of the sofa to make room before sitting down as well.

 Your small apartment fills with a rather uncomfortable quiet as the two of you begin to dig into your food. The silence accompanied by faint slurps and sips that almost make you smile.

And it feels weird to be here with him like this. Relaxing on the couch, eating some soup like you don’t despise each other.

Perhaps you’d even enjoy his company under any other circumstance. 

Clearing your throat, you angle your body toward his, studying his profile as his eyebrow raises. “Why are you here? Really?”

He shifts in your direction as well, grinning deviously from behind his takeout container. “Told you, I’m being nice—”

“Wrong. You’re never nice. Besides, you just accused me of hiding from you, so I don’t exactly think we’re on the best of terms.”

This makes his amusement fade, a subtle frown beginning to form as he shrugs one shoulder up in a nonchalant manner. “I don’t know. I guess it’s an apology.”

“For what?”

“For saying that,” he admits, almost quietly. Avoiding your eye as he stares at his noodles. “And maybe I kind of thought you were lying and wanted to see for myself.”

“Would you like me to vomit for you? Will that prove I’m actually unwell?”

He smiles again. “Nah, I’m good—”

“Really, it’s no trouble. I’ll do it right now, all over your lap—”

“All right,” he groans, leaning back with a crinkled nose. “Ew. No. I believe you, Princess. Fuck’s sake.”

Satisfied, you nod once. “Great. Now, onto my next question. How the hell did you get my address?”

“How do you think?” His expression is mischievous. “Got it from your file.”

“What? Why do you have access to my file?”

“Cause Prescott’s security system is way too easy to hack,” he says simply. “And I knew you’d never tell me.”

“Right. Because we don’t do that.”

“We don’t,” he agrees. “But we’re not fucking anymore, so it’s fine.”

“Oh, is it?”

“Yeah.”

“And how exactly does that work?”

“Because,” he begins, setting his things down on the coffee table, “if we’re not fucking, that means there’s no chance of you getting all clingy and attached.”

Your eyes narrow. “Uh-huh.”

“Which means we can hang out without you falling for me,” he finishes, rather smugly. “So it’s fine.”

“Just because we aren’t fucking doesn’t mean we’re friends,” you argue. “I still hate you.”

“I know. I hate you, too.”

Yet for some reason, you both smile.

“Now what’s the real reason?” you urge, nodding your chin at him. “Honestly. Why are you really here?”

He takes a beat to mull this over, standing from the sofa to collect his trash and take it to your kitchen. “Told you,” he finally says before tossing away his things. “You’re sick, and I felt bad.”

“Is that all?”

Another long pause settles between you as he readjusts the hood over his curls and saunters over to your window seat. “I didn’t want you to be hiding from me,” he admits as he slumps down, eyes flicking out into the dark night. “So I wanted to make sure we were good.”

You study him silently, taking in the way his hands disappear into the large pocket on his abdomen. “Yeah, we’re good,” you quietly reply.

He nods once but keeps his attention on the city. “Good. Cause you don’t have to hide, you know. We’re fine.”

“Yeah, I know. I just said that.”

His body lifts and falls with a small chuckle before he props his legs up onto the cushions and tosses his arms over his knees. “Well, you seemed pissed.”

“Well, I wasn’t the one that threw a hissy fit and fled from the car,” you retort. “In fact, I’m the one that politely agreed and let you go.”

“Right, but you were pissy about it. I could tell.”

“You are so full of shit.”

He laughs again. “I just don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Oh, I am. But not for that.”

He looks over. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re annoying, and you’re rude, and you’re so fucking pretentious,” you list, fighting a grin. “But you have a right to keep things to yourself, and I shouldn’t have asked. So…I’m sorry.”

He nods once, as if acknowledging the apology before returning his gaze to the window. “S’fine.”

Another lull drifts into the conversation, minutes passing by before you notice his expression shift.

“It’s not you,” he murmurs, and your eyebrows lift.

“What?”

He shifts a bit before clearing his throat. “It’s not you, I just…I don’t talk about it. Or…her.”

Her. 

The first piece to the rather large puzzle sitting before you, and you feel your breath catch as you await the rest.

You notice the way he hesitates. The reflection of the night sky in his glasses. The nervous tapping of his fingers.

“Cause if I don’t talk about it, then I don’t have to think about it,” he whispers. “And if I don’t think about, then I don’t feel like putting my fucking fist through a wall, you know?”

“I know,” you answer quietly. “You don’t have to, it’s okay.”

He snorts to himself, leaning forward. “She never should have been in that fucking car. I was supposed to drive her. She was supposed to be with me.”

And even without much context, you feel your stomach wrench, already anticipating what might have happened.

“But she was late,” he says. And it’s angry, the way he speaks. Resentful. “She was out with her friends, and she was late to meet me, and I had shit to do. So I told her. I told her I couldn’t take her to the fucking party she wanted to go to. Because I didn’t want to be out all fucking night. I wanted to get my shit done and go to bed.”

You feel your throat run dry, tears beginning to form as you watch him recall the memory.

“I told her to get an Uber,” he continues, aggravated at first before it settles into something soft and somber. “I made her get into that car, and I watched her go. And I didn’t fucking care. Because I wanted to stay home, so I made her go by herself, and it fucking…and she didn’t…”

Your feet desperately want to carry you to him. To provide him some sort of comfort as he keeps his glare on the city horizon.

But you stay seated on the sofa, waiting for whatever he might offer next as he takes a deep breath.

“And she was just gone,” he murmurs, the air in the room shifting instantly. “She was fucking gone not even an hour later.”

The first drop slips down your cheek before you can wipe it away.

He exhales an amused laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “And I always think how funny it is that the last thing she ever said to me was, ‘Sleep well, H.’ And I haven’t slept well since.”

Now, he looks to you. Studying you almost sadly as you sit in wait.

“And then there was you,” he says. “You, and your shitty ass jokes, and your cocky little grin. You were everywhere. Every day. Sitting across from me, asking if I wanted to split a fucking everything bagel.”

You’re almost tempted to smile, but the truth of what he’s saying cuts too deep.

“And I hated it,” he admits, eyes flicking between yours. “I fucking hated it because you made me forget. Whenever I would talk to you, I would forget. I would just stare at you as you rambled on and on about the algorithm and the fucking API, and I wouldn’t think about her, and I’d forget how fucking angry I was.”

He smiles almost wryly, making your insides twist.

“And I didn’t want to forget,” he tells you. “I wanted to be angry. I wanted to punish myself for what I’d done. Because I didn’t deserve to forget. I didn’t deserve to be happy. Especially with you.”

You sit up, wrestling with the temptation to argue, but he’s already looking back out the window.

“So, yeah, maybe hating you was easier. And maybe fucking you was selfish, but it felt like the only choice. Because sex is just sex. And if I kept you at a distance – at least in some ways – I wouldn’t have to lose you, too.”

 You stand and make your way for the window seat, settling in front of him as he turns to watch you. He looks like he wants to roll his eyes, perhaps in an attempt to avoid your pity, but you lean forward, nonetheless.

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” you whisper, ignoring his amused expression. “You don’t deserve to be punished for something you couldn’t control.”

He smirks, but you can see the hint of sadness written between the lines of his face. “Thanks, Dr. Phil. I’ll keep that in mind.”

But you don’t let him tease his way out of this, instead settling your hands atop his knees to recapture his attention. “I’m serious, Harry. I know she wouldn’t blame you. How can you blame yourself?”

His smug grin falters for half a second. “Because there’s no one else to blame.”

A lump lodges in your throat as you scoot a bit closer. “Exactly. It was an accident. Unfair and uncontrollable. But it was never your fault. It was never your burden to carry.”

He leans his head back against the wall, but his attention never leaves you. Almost as though he’s afraid to look away. 

“You can hate me,” you tell him. “I don’t mind that. Hating you is easier for me, too. But you can’t punish yourself for this. You can’t keep yourself from being happy. Not when you deserve it more than anybody I know.”

And maybe this is the first time you’ve ever really understood him. The first time you’ve felt truly connected to the man before you – even more so than when he was inside of you.

Because suddenly, things don’t feel so heavy. The world doesn’t seem so dark. And maybe, just maybe…he’s not so bad.

He drops his legs and sits up to reach for you. A large palm slipping around the back of your neck while you suck in a quiet breath and lean away.

“No,” you whisper, making his eyebrows raise. “I’m sick.”

He laughs, almost as though enchanted by your response. That charming dimple reemerging. “I don’t care.”

“Well you should,” you argue. “Seriously, it’s gross over here. There’s snot and I’ve been coughing all day—”

“Tink,” he murmurs, moving closer, attention dropping to your lips. “Stop talking.”

So…you do.

You let his mouth press to yours, settling into the feel of his touch. Something you weren’t sure you’d ever get to feel again. And despite everything else…you’re content.

He kisses your top lip. Your bottom lip. Steals a breath right from your lungs before nudging his nose with yours. “I still hate you.”

Your fingers tangle into the dark hoodie on his chest. “Yeah. I hate you, too.”

He smiles.

You aren’t sure what to expect come Monday morning. After all, you’re never sure what to expect with Harry.

You left things…friendly but undecided. As far as you know, nothing has changed. Harry is still the arrogant twat you’re forced to tolerate, and maybe that’s all he’ll ever be.

But maybe…you’re okay with that.

If you never fuck him again, perhaps that’s not the worst thing. Becoming his frenemy is decidedly less exhausting than being anything else. And you suppose you don’t want much more than that. At least not right now. You’re happy to hate him for as long as he’ll let you.

But you aren’t sure how he’ll feel about his admission in the light of day. Maybe he’ll regret sharing something so personal. Maybe he’ll resent you for knowing it. Maybe he’ll request the two of you never speak again.

Lucas does his best to engage in small talk with you as you anxiously await Harry’s arrival. Politely ignoring the way you continue to check your watch and glance toward his desk. 

In fact, you eventually become so engrossed in the conversation with the friendly newcomer that you miss that aforementioned ball of thunder striding through the lab.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. He throws his things down and slouches into his chair to begin working. Not bothering with a greeting or even a look of acknowledgement. 

Truth be told, you aren’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

And then the lunch hour begins. You assume he’ll disappear to the cafeteria as usual to grab a sandwich before returning to hide himself away in the lab.

Yet today is different. Today he stands up, turns around, and steps up to where you’re sitting.

Before you can even turn around, he dips down, and whispers, “Supply closet. Five minutes.”

With that, he’s gone. Slipping between the computers and desks before disappearing into the hallway as a smile stretches across your face.

After anxiously counting the seconds, you begin to follow. Double checking to make sure no one pays you any mind. 

Once you’re satisfied, you make your way to the closet, and knock twice.

The door swings open, and you barely get the chance to offer a greeting before he’s tugging you inside, flinging the door shut, and pushing you up against it.

 His lips find yours and it’s anxious. His kisses are desperate and rushed but so fucking addictive. 

His hands are on your waist while yours disappear into his hair. His glasses are nudged out of place but neither of you care to stop and fix them. Instead groaning eagerly as he sucks on your tongue.

His hips press to yours, the subtle but familiar bulge hard against your thigh as you drop your head back and whimper. Anxiously pleading with him through a pointed look.

The flick of the button on your jeans is fast and practiced. The material pooling around your ankles while he works to tug his own pants down. 

Two fingers hook onto the crotch of your panties to pull them aside before he slides the long digits through. Feeling just how frantic you really are. 

He kisses you again as he slides them inside, curling and pumping just so. Smirking when he hears your arousal echo between the walls.

Nipping at your bottom lip, he whispers, “This doesn’t change anything. I still hate you.”

Sighing contently at the way his thumb massages your clit, you say, “Good. I hate you, too.”

He snorts. “Sure, Princess. Is that why you’re so fucking wet?”

To accentuate his point, he thrusts to the knuckle, stroking a particular spot that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back.

“S’fucking pathetic,” he murmurs, glancing down, “how easy it is to play with you. Don’t have to do anything, do I? Just have to tease you a little and you’ll soak my fucking hand.”

Your fingers curl into his shirt, either as an act of defiance or out of need for stability. You aren’t sure.

“Cause you like it, don’t you?” he continues, moving his kisses to your neck. “Gets you off to be insulated. Degraded. Get all wet and squirmy at the thought of me putting you in your place, yeah?”

You don’t want to agree with him, but you both know he’s right. Even now, the cold cadence in which he speaks makes your legs shake. 

“Yeah,” he answers for you in a soft but smug hum. “Know you do. Know you just wanna be put on your knees. Where you belong.”

With this thought, he pulls his fingers from your pussy, leaving you to wilt while he tugs his cock out.

There’s not much care as he swiftly and almost angrily tugs your leg up and throws it around his hip. He offers no words of reassurance or looks of encouragement while the tip drags through your folds before slowly disappearing into your cunt.

He ignores your strangled inhale, forehead finding yours as he grits, “Maybe I should do that next. Wrap your pretty ponytail around my fist while I fuck your throat.”

Your lashes flutter shut, nails scraping down his arms. 

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Tink?” He pauses for only a moment to let you adjust. “Like it when I make tears run down your face, yeah?”

However, you can’t offer him any reply. Instead focusing on the familiar ache that accompanies the stretch of his large size. 

He pushes in a bit more, wary of your reaction, but overcome with pleasure at the way you take him. “You do,” he decides, that smile returning. “Can feel your little pussy clenching around me. Is that what you want, Princess? Want me to be mean to you?”

Truth be told, you suppose it is. Anything else wouldn’t feel right.

His hand raises to your throat, fingers curling around the delicate and soft skin of your neck before he squeezes once. Keeping your head pressed against the door.

“Take me,” he murmurs harshly before burying himself all the way. Ignoring your gasps and whines. “Fucking take me, Tink. Just like that. S’a good fucking girl. Always behave so well for me, hm? Just for me. Nobody else.”

He sets a slow but hard pace. Looking down at where his cock disappears into your pussy with a dazed look in his eye.

“Do you think about him, Princess?” he asks you next, giving your throat another squeeze. “D’ya think about your precious fucking Lucas when I fuck you? Or do you think about him when you’re all alone? Trying to get yourself off?”

Your mouth opens, ready to reply, but all that follows his remark is a desolate and strained whimper. 

“Or do you think about me?” His lips ghost along the tender skin below your ear. Breathing softly before kissing the spot sweetly. A stark contrast to the vile way he speaks. “Think about how good I am to you…how I take care of you. Picture my hands, my voice, my fucking cock.”

And he’s right. In every fantasy, you see his face, first and foremost. Whisper his name into the air of your room as your fingers curl into your cunt. 

It’s always him.

“Say it,” he murmurs now, offering another gentle kiss to your neck. “Tell me I’m the only one. Fucking tell me I’m the only one you cum for.”

Your fingernails move to scrape down his scalp, tangling in his soft curls as you subtly keep him in your arms. 

You’re not too surprised by this request. Even if the two of you might never be anything more than friends, you imagine he needs to know. He needs to hear that even after everything, you still choose him.

You’re tempted to taunt him with a quippy retort. Egg him on, tell him he’s nothing compared to your vibrator. 

Yet you find yourself whispering, “Only you, Har. Only ever you.”

For a moment, he stills. As if overcome by the words, the admission.

You pull him further into your embrace. “Always you.”

With a smirk, he leans back just far enough to meet your eye. 

And you both smile.

“That’s my fucking girl.”

🥹 I can't believe we've made it to the end of the main series!!! No they're not technically together right now, BUT!!! There will be extras and who knows what they might get up to later ALSFJEFD

Thank you so much to everyone for reading and being so kind, I appreciate you all more than you know!!! You have my entire heart to heaven and back!!!! AND TINK, HARRY, AND I WILL SEE YOU AGAIN VERY SOON!! Specifically for the Halloween extra HAHAHA 😭♥️♥️

Next Part:

~ A-Mazing* (Halloween Extra)

Previous Part:

~ Jealous* (Pt. 4)

~ Full 404 Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus @kirstiea05 @lovrave @princessprongs @nuggetdean @storyschanging

[lollytea]

Please, your finale Huntlow thoughts, my liege. We poor peasants beg of you, our bowls are empty and your tables full; if we might have but a crumb of your succulent meal to fill our bellies in these cold December nights.

ASGCDHBDJNK JESUS FUCKING CHRIST OKAY

I got a few asks about this but I guess I'll answer this one cuz it's phrased the funniest. I just wasn't too pressed about giving my Thoughts about finale Huntlow because I am fully a part of the Huntlow hivemind. Like I feel the way everyone else feels. I'm ecstatic, I'm delighted, I'm overwhelmed, I'm emotional, I'm so happy for them, I got everything I could have wanted. I won. We won.

(I HAVE TOO MANY PICS. I'LL RB WITH PART 2)

First of all this scene is so special to me, you have no idea.

It isn't inherently romantic but it's still so sweet and shows how much these two care for each other. Here's Willow, who's spent the last special Atlasing and repressing and refusing to rely on anyone else. But then she had her breakdown in front of Hunter and he realized just how stressed and scared she's been this whole time. She's visibly anxious and upset here, likely worrying up a storm because she hasn't found her Dads yet. And Hunter is right here beside her. He's seen her meltdown, he's felt her pain, he's heard her cry. He knows that Willow is in a fragile state at the moment. He knows she's been holding in a lot. He knows she's scared. I love that he's not only standing by her side and helping her search, but holding her too. It could be that she vocally expressed how worried she was to him, or maybe he just saw it on her face, but he probably placed that hand on her back to comfort her, let her knows he's right here, grounding her. And Willow, who's still learning how to depend on others, is letting him.

The way Hunter lights up when he sees Harvey and Gilbert, thrilled by how happy he knows she's going to be and his soft smile when he points them out to her. And then THIS!

Like Hunter is devastated. He feels alone and out of place here. He really thinks he has nobody. But Willow being happy can still bring a smile to his face. He just loves her so much!!!

And I know I already talked about the grom photo but UGHH!!!

I got a pic in better definition. I'm pretty sure this is Hunter's first grom. So likely a few months after the events of WAD. And it's so cute to think about Hunter and Willow very awkwardly but eagerly navigating a romantic relationship. I love how grabby and flirty Willow looks here, messing with his bowtie. She clearly LOVES the floral suit, thinking he's like the hottest man alive. She needs to smooch him and NOW. Or she's just like "Oh my, what a nice collarbone you have!!" Idk the ambiguity of what exactly Willow is doing here but the vibe and general intentions being very obvious is my favourite part of this pic. You can speculate for years on this. Oh and Hunter's face, I love it so much. His dumb little blush is like an old friend. He's fucking THRILLED that he's getting so much attention from her. He's very excited about where this is going. But he's also like. So nervous he's gonna pass out. But overall he's having the time of his life. Bi rights!

Also epilogue Huntlow....guys....guys epilogue Huntlow....are you guys still listening to me at this point?

God I love this scene. Its so natural and smooth, giving the characters a chance to breathe and exist and providing a glimpse of how they go about their daily lives. It's soft and lighthearted but it establishes so much about where Willow and Hunter are currently at in their relationship. They've been dating for like....3 years at the very least. And they're clearly very happy together!!

The way Willow casually slides on to the scene, giving the impression that she's often dropped in on him while he's working. And why wouldn't she? That's her sweetheart. What if she requires emergency smooches? What then? And of course, there's Hunter beaming at the sight of her. Seems he never gets tired of his girlfriend stopping by to visit. Or maybe he's sick to death of Willow the menace showing up to distract him while he's trying to work and he's just excited about the prospect of Luz's party. Either way, it's an adorable expression.

Something else I love about epilogue Huntlow is how equally distributed the affection is between both of them. Back when FTF dropped I gushed about how sweet it was to see Hunter taking initiative with Willow and the significance of something as simple pressing his backhand against hers during the pinky hold. And God, this sequence here says it all. From what I can tell, as Hunter runs towards her, they both reached out at the same time and linked hands immediately, implying that holding hands has become the automatic gesture for them whenever they meet up. They're in love, you're honor.

I love the huge carefree grins as they skate down the hill (still holding hands). They might have grown a lot since we last saw them but they're still young adults, they still love to have fun doing dumb reckless stuff. And even better, they love to have fun doing dumb reckless stuff together. All the handholding and fluffy cuteness is wonderful but I also love knowing that they seem to genuinely enjoy just hanging out and spending their youth with each other. Zeno was right, they ARE besties. Who knows how much shit Hunter and Willow get up to together? Being a pair of thrill seeking athletes, it's probably a lot.

This part is just so silly and ridiculous. After they go stumbling, Willow's first instinct is to grab Hunter and hold on for dear life. Her intense scrunched up expression is just so funny. "I will protect you, my love. No big dumb hill is going to harm a hair on your pretty head. Your girl is here." And Hunter barely acknowledging it (it probably happens a lot) because his life is currently flashing before his eyes. GOD they're just such nerds.

Oh and this frame is just SO adorable. The way Willow's hold on him lingers for a moment before he walks towards the grave, Hunter's heart eyes. They're clearly still so soft and touchy with each other. And this is after three years. I know they were insufferable when they started dating as teens.

[jaysng]

all i want is you | pjs

pairing: loverboy!jay x reader

genre: angst, fluff

summary: idk how to summarize this🙏🏻

<a/n> little women reference used cope w it 🤣

you hear it, the teasing glances and the whispers as you walk around the school. it’s been like this ever since jay, the popular guy at school had asked you out about 2 months ago during valentines. 

“hey look it’s your girlfriend” you hear it very clearly, but you know what they want, they want a reaction out of you. 

you still turn your head to the side to look and jay seems.. embarrassed? sad? you weren’t good at reading people so you never tried that hard either. 

there wasn’t anything negative about you or your looks, it was just the people around you who did not value you. but sometimes you did tend to forget and let your emotions control you.

same way, 2 months ago when jay had asked you out, private proposal. it was pretty unusal to you, you thought it was some kind of prank, you still do, like some kind of bet. 

so you just stared into his soul that day, without responding you nervously just bowed at him and excused yourself. 

few other students saw and reported it to their friends and slowlt by the next day, the rumor spread like a wildfire.

yes jay’s ego was hurt, you expected him to look down at you after that day but later on he just showed up with “i will win you.”

maybe he watched a movie and got motivated off it? 

you did like him back, no doubt in that but all your life you’ve felt like you were in a competition and always losing it so you just let things be. 

there was someone else who wanted him, some other of your classmate, yunjin.

so you just did not want to be in all this drama, yunjin already despised you, you did not want to make things worse. 

you head back to class as soon as recess is over, ignoring all the whispers and the look of envy you recieve from yunjin.

“what is going on?” wincing in pain as yunjin pushes you onto some wall with a sudden question.

“what the fuck do you want?” you ask back as she laughs at your face “i thought i told you to stay away from jay?” you could’ve fought back to get out of her grip, but come on she had two girls behind her making sure nobody sees. 

“i did, we haven’t spoken in a while” you say as you grab her hand harshly and pull it away “and, don’t touch me.” 

the sternness in your voice intimidated her, you could tell by the way she was gulping, even though you appeared weak you still were strong enough to fight back so they could not do much.

“then why the fuck is a rumor about jay dropping all his friends for you going on?” she says as you look at her, not even surprised cause you were already done with this school and it’s rumors. 

she steps back “god have you like casted a spell on him? why the fuck does he even want you?” looking at you in disbelief if you have caused it.

shrugging, “don’t know and don’t care” you say as yunjin tries to trap you between her and the wall again but the teacher calls out

‘what are you girls doing? get to class right now’

she gives you the dirtiest smirk known to man kind as you stare into her soul back with a poker face, not feeding onto her little trick. 

deciding to talk it out with jay, during second break you visit him near the playground area.

“why would you choose me when you can have her? i mean she has everything i don’t” oh the way jay could answer this in a paragraph.

“she has everything but she is not you okay? she is a piece of shit who goes around and bullies people, just like she has bullied you your entire life at school” you can audibly hear breaths leaving his mouth, desperation of wanting you really evident now.

your gazes piecered each other’s souls, staring deeply, somewhere deep down you knew there was some spark as your chest tightened oh how bad i want you jay.

“you’re what everyone wants jay. i am someone they spit on and walk past. nobody wants us together.” you confessed absentmindedly. 

“why do you care about what they think?” he asked, “its always been like that, you were a bystander too before you liked me” he lowers his head out of embarrassment.

knowing there is nothing more to add in to the arguement, you slide your hands in the pockets of your uniform skirt and walk away.

little did you both know, yunjin was eavesdropping everything and rage of jealousy filled her making her undereye twitch.

class dismissed.

it is finally the end of the day, the bell rings as the sounds of everyone packing their bags fill your ears. 

jay’s class was right infront of yours, but unfortunately yunjin was still in your class so you just couldn’t avoid her for some reason, knowing you’re under her sight almost all the time. 

she walks out first as you go extra slow, too tired for anything. 

out of luck, no body stops you to tease you today, everyone annoying out of your sight. 

walking down the alley as everyone else, it was almost empty and not crowded as usual, as you realise you came out late. shit what was i dreaming about.

something captures your eyes, but you were captured someone’s eyes way long before you noticed, it was yunjin, she saw you walking back home to school and grabbed the opportunity out of her luck that jay was walking back too at the same time. 

“oh- jayie” she calls out for him as he diverts his attnetion to her now raising his eyebrows, “can i have some water.” she asks faking tiredness.

jay cringes at her but still reaches for his side pockets of his bag. 

as he is doing that, yunjin watches carefully as you walk closer, minding ur own business.

thats it as soon as jay looks back up yunjin pushes him to the nearest wall holding him by his tie and kisses him. 

she kisses him so hungrily, ignoring his pushes, finally jay gives her one sudden push that makes her lose her balance and fall over “dude what the fuck?”

“did she see it?” she thinks to herself directly looking back at you as she sees you standing there, amused and disappointed. 

jay looks at yunjin but realizes that she is looking somewhere else, his gaze follows her as his mind freezes for a short second. 

you slowly meet his eyes, he could feel the rage in your eyes, your face completely showing numb as turn your eyes back to your path and continue walking. 

you walked as fast as you could avoiding him calling out your name, running behind you. 

jay thought to himself, this is the most of my desperation i can show. mix of anger, love and worry on his face. 

“just stop jay.” 

both of you stop in your tracks as he pants swiping his sweat off, bending down taking supporting of his knee. 

he uses all his energy to keep his head high, it was like your and his eyes were magnets, once attached you could physically feel the burden of breaking it. 

“why don’t you get it? just leave me!” you scream from a distance at the top of your lungs, catching your breath as soon as you were done with your words. 

your feet faces back to your path as you continue walking fast, you could hear his footsteps fastening again, you did not quit either as you start running back

“i have loved you ever since i’ve known you y/n why dont you get it”his voice ringed in your ears as you cried after each word, eyes getting teary and blurry. 

that’s when you gave up and lost it all, crying right there on the spot. “what jay?” you ask as you shut close your eyes, your lips trembling and so were the words.

he didn’t stop, continued to approach you and close the distance, shaking you by the shoulder, even though the action seemed harsh it felt so soft, “why don’t you just accept this? why don’t you just accept me? what do i lack?”

what do i lack. 

someone so perfect like him had feelings like that too, about a total complete loser like you? after all he was just a person, just like you. 

you opened your eyes, your eyes met his as the world went quiet, his narrowed eyes staring at you, the tension in the air mixed with all your emotions crashing with each other. 

both of you taking deep breaths and panting hard, feeling the heat radiating off each other, “i gave up everything you didn’t like, cant you see? i’m happy i did its fine and i waited and i will wait and i never complained..

and i-“

you kiss his lips to shut him up, the sensation in his heart goes crazy as you feel his muscles go loose, knees bucking as sense of weakness. 

you hold his face, sharp bones of his jawline and cheekbones right in contact with your palm, he was so warm. his lips were like pillows, so soft.

his head spins around, incapable of coping with the moment. you pull back

“you know i figured you’d love me y/n.” he says without thinking as if he was on auto pilot 

“oh god how much i love you” you kiss his lips once again grabbing his collar to pull him closer.

you couldn’t hold onto it any longer maybe this is what everythings meant to be. 

[tomieafterdark]

hate fucking with Eren drabble..18+

want more? I got you<3 here’s my masterlist

pairing: Eren x fem!reader

cw: hate fucking, sex through the prison bars from that one season 4 scene, no prep but reader is wet enough by just seeing Erens drastic glow up, vaginal sex, ass slapping, choking, hair pulling.

a/n: I haven’t watched season 4 properly and that includes this scene so if something is missing you know why😭 anyways enjoy this drabble, I am having a writers block kinda so I am stuck on my requests and longer fics rip.

Hange just came back up from asking Eren some questions, it seems she didn’t have much of a breakthrough though.

“He kept babbling on about fighting…” she said and sat down with the others. She looks disappointed as she continues explaining what else had happened.

You wanted to go down and check on Eren knowing damn well Eren despises you. Ever since you first met, you’ve had this weird energy of constantly competing or tearing each other down. Deep down inside maybe you were just looking for a way to let out your pent up anger and sadness, to tease Eren or full on argue with him. You just needed an outlet for your feelings…

As you get closer to his cell, he is still mumbling to himself about fighting. What a weirdo. And he is shirtless with a freaking manbun, you take a minute to stare at him not knowing he is aware, his body looks like it was carved by the gods themselves. As much as you despised Eren, you couldn’t help but admit he was so attractive right now, he has changed a lot.

“How long are you going to stand there and not talk, you know I am not deaf. I heard you walk down.” He says, his voice is husky and sends chills down your spine. You hadn’t seen Eren for a while, last time you saw him he was annoying and whiny and just cried a lot…this time he is different. You bite your bottom lip. His face was hotter too, that hairstyle looks like it was invented just for him.

“Whatever.” You say in a bratty tone, and walk closer to him.

He doesn’t care, he is just sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looks annoyed, as if he was doing something important earlier and had been interrupted.

You start to bother him on purpose, hoping for a reply. He must be equally desperate to let out his pent up emotions because he argues back. Suddenly you and Eren are full on arguing about god knows what because it doesn’t make sense to anyone but you two. It goes from petty things to you bursting into tears, asking Eren why he has changed so much and why he is hurting everyone he once cared about. Eren doesn’t take kindly to that last part, you don’t know it but you hit a sore spot inside of him.

He grabs you by the collar of your shirt through the bars, eyes full of hatred and rage with a hint of pain and regret if you look deeper. You don’t stop there, you’re so angry and upset you end up bringing his mom into it, and then the real hell breaks loose.

He yells at you to leave her out of it, you scream back about everything that’s wrong with his behaviour and plans and how she would never approve of this. You’re trying to reach the little humanity he had left in him but it’s not working, the tension between you becomes weirdly sexual at some point. He can’t deny the tension and neither can you, he may have neglected his humanity but that doesn’t mean it’s not there deep within him, screaming to be let out, to express its feelings. The very feelings he has been pushing down to work toward his goal, pushing everything else aside. With you being here, and the sexual tension already between you the grief and pain chooses to express itself sexually.

He turns you around, with little care for how it affects you or if it hurt. He is rough with you, even though there’s literal bars between you he doesn’t seem to care. He pulls you in close, you can feel his breath on your neck. You giggle in response to Eren’s rough manhandling. “Geez, I didn’t know you had this side to you. Last time we argued it just ended with you crying like a bitch!” You laugh.

He slaps your face really hard in return, causing you to moan a little. Something about his cold broken energy just made you so attracted to him, and the carelessness and manhandling only made you more weak in the legs. You had not planned for this sexual tension to arise with Eren. Sure, all your arguing earlier helped you release the anger you were wanting to express but the sexual side of you needed release too and Eren’s glow up alone had awakened it. You hadn’t had sex in so long, too much work and too little time for anything else left you neglecting your sexual needs a lot.

You arch your back and push your ass up against Eren, to your surprise you’re met with some hardness. “Arguing makes you hard? You really are a mess Eren Yeager” you say to him in a snarky tone and laugh.

“Shut the fuck up, aren’t you the one pushing your ass all up against me like a bitch in heat?” He says in a husky voice that sends shivers down your spine. You almost accidentally moan yes daddy in reply, this new Eren has your mind racing. You just smirk back at him. “I’ll fuck this sly smirk off your face bitch, when I’m done with your ass you’ll be crying begging me to stop.”

“Ooh I’m so scared. Face it Eren, you couldn’t last a minute.” You brag, hoping to get a rise out of him and get manhandled even more. Oh how you wish those stupid bars weren’t between you, so Eren could have his way with you.

He chokes you in return and pulls your pants and panties down, you’re so wet just from this alone. It’s good you are wet because Eren was so pissed off he would’ve bottomed out in you wether you were wet or not. Your eyes roll back as you’re gasping for air, he is choking a bit too hard. He gets closer to your ear as he continues choking and whispers “spread your legs more bitch.”

You’re so dizzy from being choked you accidentally reply back “yes daddy” out loud instead of in your head and spread them causing Eren to chuckle, he low-key likes it and even more when you said it in the state you were in. He shoves his entire length into you, it’s so big it hurts causing you to wake up from your dizzy state. He knows you’re struggling to take it, from the way your body tensed up to the way you’re almost pushing him out is telling but he keeps pushing it in making you take it all. Your moaning is starting to get a bit to loud, which has him hiss “quiet you whore. Do you really want them to find you like this? All wrapped up around my cock moaning like a slut?” He lets go of your throat and puts it over your mouth, your muffled moans are still loud but it’s better than before. He keeps thrusting at a merciless speed, your body finally stopped resisting his sheer force and you’re taking him. Limp legged, barely able to stand up and he just keeps going, you can feel it reach all the way up in your stomach. He grabs your hand and makes you feel it. “Feel it slut, that’s me re-arranging your tiny little guts.” You cry out in return, it’s making you lose it, it’s just too much. You just want to collapse here and now, but Eren pushes your hand down on the bulge his cock is making on your pretty stomach. Your reaction is gold to him. “What was it about me not lasting huh y/n?” He snarks and starts slapping your ass, not once or twice but so many times your cheeks turn red.

You squirt all over Eren’s cock, orgasming so hard your cunt is once again trying to push him out. Eren just buries himself deeper inside you, feeling every small movement your cunt makes in hopes of pushing him out. Your breathing is getting faster, with legs shaking. “Please Eren, pull out for a second it’s too much” you cry out with tears running down your pretty cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up and take this dick” is all he says and starts fucking you deeper. He puts you on all four, positioning you into a mean painful arch even though there’s bars between you. He somehow reaches deeper into you with the position you’re in and you’re leaking all over the cold cement floor from your eyes and cunt. Eren is brutal, you had enough ages ago but he keeps going. You are so overstimulated you try to crawl away but you’re met with more brutal manhandling, he pulls on your ponytail keeping you in place. “What’s wrong y/n? You can’t last longer?” He mocks.

You end up getting your absolute brains fucked out by Eren, at the same brutal pace for what feels like hours. When he is done, you’re a mess. He didn’t stop until your cunt was overstimulated, bruised and gaping. You hear the others come down to check on Eren, you quickly put your clothes on. You’re struggling to stand as they come over, you’re just standing against the wall with your legs threatening to collapse any minute.

thanks for reading I didn’t proof read so sorry for mistakes 😵‍💫

© 2023 succubisblog | All rights reserved

[paper-mario-wiki]

I feel like I've ended up in the same spot as so transmasc before me: I have a lovely cis boyfriend who loves my tits which I love for him, but I am getting dysphoric to the point I wanna lift my lips and show a lil teeth when I see his hands coming towards them. Feels bad because they are his favorite and we haven't been fucking as much because as soon as he starts touching me I am out of it™ and get all in my head and freeze up. Any advice?

good god, brother. i am utterly baffled at why you have elected me as the strategist for this problem, and i'm even more confused as to why you have chosen to go into as much detail as you have.

but.

if i were to give you some advice on this

i'd say that you should consider a conversation with your partner about the long-term plan for the relationship. a "relationship" is two lives that are connected, right? and your life is not one where you're gonna have boobs for the rest of it (or at least based on what you've told me i would assume, should you have your way, those bad boys are gettin lopped off at some point), therefore it's pertinent that it be brought up, because it concerns your life, therefore it concerns the relationship, therefore it concerns him, yes?

now, the first and most obvious thing to start with out the gate is the boundary, made clear and concise: the hills are now closed, off limits to tourists. all discussions regarding this come next. make it clear that it's about something quite core to your identity, and something that does in fact cause physical pain (a panic response from the nervous system is pain homie).

this brings some followup questions (and remember, this isn't an interrogation, it's a dialogue to share): how does he feel about this? if he's against, why? for that matter, how much does it bother him? is there something he doesn't understand about your discomfort? is there some concern he has about your financial or bodily well-being with regards to the procedure? is it because it's vital to his attraction to you as a partner? if that's the case, would their removal be a deal-breaker?

now keep in mind, these question can be brought up whether or not you've got immediate plans to engage in the aforementioned lopping-off of your aforementioned Bad Boys, because the actual point of this dialectical exercise is to create a simple, easy to navigate, easy to understand conversation, which will set a foundation for further negotiations-- should you learn something new about each other, or yourselves, or the relationship as a whole.

either way, i do not think that letting it keep happening and keeping it to yourself is a good idea. i can understand feeling guilty about withholding some physical and emotional gratification you could give "easily" to this person you care dearly for, but trust me when i say that it's not the way to let it be. not just because it's unfair to your partner to secretly grow to resent them for a reason you don't want to vocalize, but to yourself as well.

you may not know it, but by keeping it to yourself you're slowly building up a resentment. that frustration actually shows up pretty clearly in your message. and even if what you're frustrated about is only that particular activity, that activity is irrevocably tied to another person. specifically, a person that you consider to be a pretty central pillar in your life. if that resentment grows, it can evolve into anger, hatred, fear, paranoia, and all sorts of nasty things. and even aside from the emotional and psychological damage that can do, it can grow into a physiological issue, where your brain wears out more and more due to the growing emotional distress ripping through your neurons with all sorts of "emergency" chemicals. like i said, the panic response is a physical pain, even if your body doesn't feel like it "hurts".

so. to summarize.

ABSOLUTELY bring it up. if you don't, it could become damaging to your relationship, and also your actual real life physical brain.

when you do bring it up, remember that the goals are to set a boundary, and to reach an understanding through mutual conversation. it's a dialogue, not a lecture.

when you reach an understanding, figure out if the relationship needs to be renegotiated in some way. that usually means new boundaries, or expectations. or maybe nothing! though surely your boyfriend can find more things to love about you.

that's as best as i can muster. you don't have to follow it, but hopefully it'll at least give you some ideas you can use.

[ivycjl]

Epiphany - Part 3

The wind whips Benny’s face. He'd been riding for the better part of an hour now, away from the city and into the country. Johnny was ahead of him. They were riding out to a nice spot with a big, shady tree where they would spend most of the day.

He followed Johnny as he took a right turn into their spot, parking his motorcycle under the tree. Benny allowed himself to think about what happened this morning. Sure, recently you had been brushing him off a little, but he figured you were just in one of your moods. But today made him see different; something was definitely up. The last full sentence you spoke haunted him. I am just about done with you, Benny Cross.

“What'ya thinkin’ about?”

Benny shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Nothin’.”

“You sure? What's on your mind?”

Benny sighed. “Just…wife stuff."

Johnny tilted his head. “What'd ya do?”

Benny rolled his eyes and shrugged. Johnny gave him a look. “Well, okay. D’you see the Cubs lost again?”

Of course. Of course he would do that. He's got the whole day off of work, you just had a fight about not seeing him, and he wants to spend it with his fucking motorcycle club. God damnit.

You’re sitting at your kitchen table, hemming a dress for one of your clients. Altering clothes was one of your many side hustles to bring in some more money. Between that, teaching a few dance classes, and occasionally working at the established seamstress shop, you earned decent money for yourself.

The sharp stab of a pin refocused you. Honestly, what are you doing wrong? Why doesn't he love you like he should? Whatever.

For the next couple of weeks, Benny tries reaching out to you a little, but every time it comes with more pain.

He puts an arm around your waist, then informs you he's leaving town with the club for a couple days. Awkwardly tries to touch your shoulder once before going out all night and not coming home until 2 p.m.

Your worries and insecurities started to culminate. They all usually came to the same conclusion. I'm not good enough for him anymore. I’m asking too much and he fell out of love. If he was ever in love in the first place. Maybe he found someone new. God knows I can't supervise him, so it's entirely possible.

When the two of you show up to meetings now, you pretty much completely ignore him to meet Betty and Kathy and Shiela. You pretend not to see the hurt on his face as you greet them with big smiles. You haven't smiled at him in a while.

The next night, he actually came home at a decent time. You don’t hear the door open, too consumed by your emotions and distracted by the TV. He drunkenly stumbles throughout the house, trying not to make too much noise when he finds you laying on the couch, tears streaming down your face.

Boldened by the alcohol in his system, Benny walks over to you and squats down. “Why are you crying?”

He tilts his head. You try and fail to discreetly wipe the tears off your face. “Oh, just um…the movie’s sad.”

Benny turns to the TV. “This is Bewitched.” He looks back at you, even more confused to see you looking down.

“You should go to bed.”

The words are like magic on his inebriated mind. Exhaustion overtakes him as he walks up to bed. You're still in the back of his mind, puzzling Benny until he falls asleep.

Benny wakes up with a pounding headache. He looks over, expecting to see you, then remembers what happened the night before. What the fuck is going on? Whatever it is, it's been happening for too long. Benny decides to ask you about it.

He ambles downstairs and finds you sewing at the breakfast table. “Hey.”

You hum. “Y/N, I need to ask you about something.”

You freeze at the question as he pops some Advil and sits across from you. “And don't bullshit me, 'cause I know something's wrong.”

You take slow, measured breaths. “Okay.”

“What's been goin’ on with you? You're-I don't know what it is but something’s wrong.”

Oh, you noticed, huh? Well, since your observation skills are so great why don't you tell me? It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the fact that I've been upset with you for months about all your shit, and even when we have huge, nearly marriage-ending fights about it, you can't bring yourself to care?

You want to snap all this at him, but try to remember your ultimate goal. No talking means no fighting. Sure, it's not entirely fair to make him guess, but at this point, is it even guessing? You had come to him multiple times about the same problems, over and over.

“I-I don't know.”

“You don't know? Seriously?”

“No.”

“Honey, are you feeling okay?”

“Fine.”

Benny clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes. “No, no you're not. I’ve seen you, you're bein' weird, you're avoiding me-”

“Stop! Just stop it, Benny. I don't want to talk to you.”

You bite your tongue before you can say anything worse. You look your husband in the eyes for the first time in a while. Instead of his usual anger, you see nothing but hurt on his face. It breaks your heart.

He slowly nods, looking down. “Okay.” He shakily exhales and exists the kitchen, walking outside to work on his bike.

Fuck.

[ekpriyasi]

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : jungkook x reader

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: yandere, best friend to lover, jungkook is a hotty, angst

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: keep a tissue box with you guys

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 : He loves bieng my friend ,but he has girlfriend who he loves ....could this possibly change him from your close friend to a distant person .. And 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘤𝘰mfort

𝗣𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 :-

𝗔/𝗻: first all i am so sorry, so so so sorry.. I know it took this long but I just had a lot in plate this past time....i hope you enjoy 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀

*************************.

You cried, cried until you slept that night everything was blurry . For days you felt like you were sick nothing was making you happy you didn't wanted to live.

You felt utterly used Ridiculous.

Days after your argument with him. You ran into him at the grocery store .You went there so you could distract yourself after being shut in your apartment for 9 days . You were angry , you clearly were but then again you were naive you wanted to have a civil conversation. If it was to end you wanted to end this all on good terms.

"Hey" you greeted him, nervousness evident in your voice." uhh...hi" He could possibly see dark circles under your eyes it caused an uneasy feeling inside his heart. " Kook... Umm I wa -"

You were cut by an utterly annoying female voice you wished you never heard " jungkookie ... What is she doing here" . This bitch "I thought you said you ended your shitty friendship with her " that was your last straw, you knew she was the one that caused the drift between you and jungkook .

But you never thought he will bring the argument you two had in this way to her.. Clearly stating that he ended... "Oh , so you really wanted to end this up.. That's why you brought that shitty excuse of being busy " You said, not being able to control your emotions further. " Nari.. This is not what I meant.. Listen to me"

He sounded somewhat panicked" Stop stop it " You ran past him out of the store not being able to listen anything moreHe ran after you. He wanted to keep you away from him but reason and things where different than it was looking.. He held your hand turning you so you could face him " Listen to me, nari I don't want you to do anything stupid ".

"Shut up .. I am Fucking stupid… I’m so fucking stupid,” you cried.“Do I really not matter enough to you? All these years of being your best friend and… and this is how you treat me? I know you’re busy, I know work is hard. But college is hard too, people aren’t nice all the time and sometimes I wish I could call you, but I don’t want to bother you at work,” You cried harder

." Nari.. Please " You never screamed at him, you didn’t scream at anybody. You were always so soft, so gentle and tender. You were understanding. But Jungkook hurt you .More than once.And you were tired of it.

“I’m so sick of the person I love more than anything, hurting me like this… if this is how you’re going to treat me then I don’t want to be your friend anymore,” you said, voice breaking.“No, nari , please! Please don’t do this, I love you so much, just things are not straight right now nari, please!” He said, tears in his own eyes.

“Goodbye, Jeon… hope it’s worth it,” you said, turning to leave.Jungkook froze, his cheek stinging but he could hardly feel it over the agonizing pain that flared in his chest.He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face.He was a fool…And he’d lost you for good

._______________*______________

Months passed and Jungkook stayed far away from you.No texts.No calls.But even after four months apart, you still couldn’t delete his number from your phone.

You couldn't bring yourself enjoying something or even talking to people . Its hard trying to ignore the pain in your heart but it's just there not going anywhere.. No matter matter how much you try you miss him, you really do You were now at the club waiting for your date to come , it weird being there alone.

It's not that you have come here first time but it's first time at club without jungkook. The volume of the music playing at this club was enough to blast your earbuds. The sweaty bodies clinging to your skin and the body odour in the air filling your nose trills was giving you ick. Sure, people are getting wild as time passes by but the dim lights was making it more sensual contrast to the atmosphere.

And there you see those dark eyes you wished you could just ignore staring at you , first at your face then at your outfit. It was the same outfit you suggested to buy just to tease jungkook cause it was way to reveling and he refused saying he don't want some weird guys ogling at you.

But after your fight you just found yourself doing everything that he refused to , out of annoyance just like you are doing now. He knew you didn't know he was there but your dress that was something he knew you did to irk him. “Hey! Y/n?” someone’s voice calling out to you make you came out of your thoughts.

When you focused, you saw your date standing a few foots away from you. You guys goes on a date some days ago, it went well and he suggested you should go on more dates with him, he would love that. He genuinely showed his interest towards you, even confessed to you that he likes you, very much. You were just feeling so sick of jungkook staring at you as if he will eat you . So without even a second thought you hugged your date.

If jungkook was there with his girlfriend enjoying why can't you. Jungkook is pissed, so much so that he goes straight to the seat he was occupying before, where his friends were seated and chugs down two shots in one go. Why is he so mad? He don’t know. Does It bothered him to see you with another man? Yes. Does he want you to stay by his side rather than that pathetic little piece of shit? Abso-fucking-lutely YES!

Jungkook just shrug it off as he took another shot which go straight down his throat, burning it in it’s way down. He doesn’t seem to find the reason why you like this men? Let alone date him? As much as he know, you’re not someone who is interested in these stuffs, so why now? It confuses and bothers him at another level.

What were you going to do now, have drinks with your date, kiss him or.. going to take him to your house and let him take your virginity. Now he found himself getting furious. But was he even getting himself so worked upMinutes passed, and then hour..... You were still with that guy visibly drunk as hell , and ready to go with him to probably fuck... That was the last straw for jungkook-

-----------------------------------------------

𝓘 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝓾 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 ... 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓿𝓲𝓮𝔀𝓼 𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓽 🦢☁✨

[somber-sapphic]

hii could you possibly do a jj x reader book where reader is in denial abt being ill 🫶

Too Far

〖Summary: You and JJ have a fight about your health. This is my attempt at angst (with a happy-ish ending), just a heads up that I am still practicing so it may not count as real angst and instead h/c.〗

〖Word Count: 〗

〖Pairing: JJ x Sick R〗

〖Notes: Every time I drink caffeine for writing I think it's a great idea because I'll be able to write so much but then I focus on something that isn't writing for several hours. I played too much Toon Blast. Also this is sort of edited but not that thoroughly〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Y/n what the hell are you doing?” JJ asked, her words laden with exasperation. You looked up from the case file and raised an eyebrow. The two of you had been snippy with each other all day, each of your nerves fraying as the days without catching the killer went on. The fact that Hotch had ordered you to the hotel made everything worse, the guilt of not being able to help the victims eating at you.

“You want to check your tone?” You snapped back, the hoarseness of your voice taking a bit away from the punch you meant to deliver. It was probably for the best, the combination of exhaustion, stress, and what seemed like more than just the sniffles was making you bitter. JJ rolled her eyes and walked over to the desk, dropping the CVS bag beside the papers you had been studying for hours.

“Cold medicine. Take it. And seriously, put the file away and lie down.” You rolled your eyes, something that caused an explosion of pain in your head, but it seemed worth it for the passive aggressiveness. You didn’t want her to know how bad you were starting to feel, you couldn’t give in to the pressure of the team, and everyone worked while they were sick. 

Your fever, stuffy nose, cough, and the pressure in your sinuses were not more important than catching a serial killer. Although the fever was really starting to bother you, weighing down your head and making your eyes burn. And your nose hurt from blowing it so often. And your body ached so badly that it felt like your bones were being squeezed. And your throat felt like you had lived off of a diet of lemon juice and broken glass.

“I don’t need cold medicine because I don’t have a cold. Why are you here anyway, I don't need a babysitter. Don’t you have families to interview?” JJ let out a harsh laugh and plopped herself down onto the bed, crossing her arms over her chest in clear frustration. What the two of you needed was a bit of space before a serious conversation but it wasn’t an option given the current situation. 

“Right, of course not. The obvious cold symptoms are nothing, you’re shivering in a 75-degree hotel room because of a nonexistent draft. And believe me, I don’t want to be here right now but Hotch doesn’t trust you alone.” That last comment cut deep and her face clouded with guilt as soon as she said it. She knew it was too far but it only hardened your resolve. 

“Then leave, there are six other people who could be here it doesn’t need to be you.” 

“Why won’t you just admit being sick? Why? You are not helping anyone here, the only thing you’re doing is hurting yourself. Do you honestly think this is a good idea?” JJ exploded, dragging a hand through her slightly greasy hair. She’d been too preoccupied with your health and the case to have time for more than a quick shower. 

“Do you honestly think I want to work like this? Of course, I feel like shit, my entire body is on fucking fire but if I stop working people will die!” You yelled back, tears brimming in your eyes. You’d finally said it out loud. You’d admitted to the thoughts that had been swirling inside of you, keeping you from even allowing people to talk about the way you felt. 

JJ’s face fell as you felt tears that you couldn’t blink away beginning to run down your fever flushed cheeks. You barely had a handle on your emotions before but now the walls had crumbled to dust and you couldn’t take it. You felt so shitty for so many reasons, it was so hot in your skin and you were struggling to keep case facts straight in your head which only upset you further. 

“Sweetheart,” JJ murmured, taking a half step forward. She’d seen you break down before but never on a case, when it happened it was always at home. 

“No! No! JJ we’ve been here for weeks, he keeps taking them and we don’t even know why, we can't tell these people anything. They hate us, they have every right to fucking hate us! There has to be something missing and-and I can't just sit here and do nothing while people are dying!” You were sobbing now, your chest heaving as you tried to calm yourself down. You wrapped your arms around yourself in a tight hug, a self-soothing method that usually worked to calm you down. The switch had been flipped, you were acting on pure misery. 

“Y/n, honey you said it earlier. There are six other profilers doing everything they can to find the killer. You being sick is not your fault but it is something we need to take care of. If you keep going like this you’re going to mess up, you’re going to hurt yourself, there are so many reasons why you need to rest. Come here, lay down, let me take help you. Please.” 

She was right. You hated it, but she was. You were already mixing up facts about victims in your head, there was really no way that you could be of any use right now. The last thing you wanted to do was stop but even worse would be providing false information that would throw the team off the trail. 

Despite your hesitation, it didn’t take long for JJ to get you settled into bed. She was working with the determination of a worried mother hen, moving quickly to check your temperature, feed you some medicine, and put a cool cloth on your head. You huddled under the fluffy duvet, your body already beginning to shut down now that you weren’t forcing yourself to work.

“I’m sorry Y/n. I haven't been fair.” JJ said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. She flipped the cloth on your forehead, sending a wave of cold through your body. You didn’t like it but she insisted that it needed to be there. 

“Neither have I. But I can’t right now. Can we wait until we’re home?” You pleaded, voice exuding weakness. Even if you wanted to have that conversation there was no way it would be productive in your current state. JJ nodded in agreement and let out a deep sigh. 

Nothing had really been resolved. The apologies from both were surface-level at best but at least there was an admission of wrongdoing on both sides. Your jobs had been hard on the relationship, harder than either of you had thought it would be. For now, the discussion would be tabled, saved for a time when the two of you were in a space to have it. It might not have been perfect but it was better than nothing. 

〖Join My Taglist!〗 @villaneve4life, @lots-of-pockets, @bloomingflowersthings, @lovelyy-moonlight, @scrambled-brain-eggs, @juststuckhereforever, @chairhere, @iliketozoneout

[horuslupercal]

got asked on the Guilliman post so

How Primarchs Cry (To Me)

Lion: represses and represses and represses and then hides away in a closet squished into the corner like a cat on its deathbed but otherwise cries pretty normally. do not point it out to him. gets defensive if you point it out

Fulgrim: gets headaches from crying so hard. keeps a handkerchief nearby because his face gets all gross. at some point in every hardcore crying session he verbally says, "enough." because it annoys him

Perturabo: trying everything in his power to give off the vibe that he never cries. takes every breath very carefully to make sure it's silent, confidently strides off away from this shit (hides away), etc

Khan: is fine, is fine, is fine, and then he's laying in bed and suddenly has to bolt upright to cry into his hands because holy shit that's sure a wave of emotion. it's okay, it'll pass, but hooooly shit at this exact moment it hurts. doesn't want to be seen but it's not the worst thing in the world if he is

Russ: crawls under Freki and Geri like when they were pups and cries for a good while. at some point he rolls over and runs his hand over his face and then grabs one of his brothers around the neck for a wrestle session and he's either fine or he's fine enough to keep on keeping on

Dorn: goes to a private room, does the "I am in control of my emotions" like Spock in that one TOS episode, and then spins around and puts his fist through the wall. opens the door with a hole in the wall and his hair no longer perfectly coiffed and his face blotchy and red and tells you he wasn't crying

Konrad: either silently weeping or wailing like a banshee. never in between. he doesn't choose which.

Sanguinius: the only primarch who can pretty cry but only up to a certain level. at some point he starts screaming and wailing like a fox caught in a bear trap and doubling over in pain and his hair gets all stuck to his face

Ferrus: throws tantrums. doesn't collapse to the floor like a toddler but does start breaking things. makes fun of the reason for his upset -- the mid-funeral roast session in some au where Fulgrim dies pre-heresy would get him cancelled on twitter because it's the only way he can deal with something that shattering. I'm pretty sure I got that headcanon from @luwupercal actually

Angron: cries for all sorts of reasons. sometimes the nails make him cry, not because they hurt or because he hates them but just because they're directly fucking with his brain chemistry. that's the kind of passive cry where he's crying but it's not an event, it's just his tear ducts doing their thing. used to seek out comfort from his siblings in the pit when he was crying from emotion, now he flips tables and screams

Guilliman: an asthmatic pug caught in a plastic ring. gasping for air, sounds like he's being strangled, the works. sounds like he's dying

Mortarion: also sounds asthmatic, on account of the asthma. his tear ducts don't work right so he doesn't really "cry" so much as hyperventilate and occasionally dry heave

Magnus: the crying is what it is, the psychic crying is the real event. his aura gets real sticky and slow and sad, like syrup, and has a tendency to kind of. contaminate other people with his grief unless he specifically stops it from doing that. I feel like he cries when he's mad, too

Horus: sits down and covers his mouth with his hand and puts his elbow on his knee and cries like that. for some reason I feel like it's especially weird for the luna wolves to see him cry -- it's always weird to see your parent cry, but it's extra weird for them and I'm not sure why. horus sitting on a couch crying with his head in his hands and two luna wolves sending panicked looks at each other 👍

Lorgar: compresses/hugs himself so hard he can't breathe, digs his nails into his skin, etc. we saw in the first heretic that he makes himself physically uncomfortable about grief and that's really stuck with me tbh. doesn't really.... know how to cry without also being in physical pain about it

Vulkan: bows his head and weeps, standing right where he is. weirdly bad at being okay with his own grief specifically -- he'll comfort a brother without issue, but his own makes him feel on edge and sedentary and he needs to move and do something and not stand here being sad, he needs to take action, he can't let it be sticky and slow

Corvus: repression king. he can't cry right now he's too BUSY. fuck this shit. and then there's a trigger and he shatters like a popsicle bridge with too much weight on it. the year of isolation before his departure definitely involved a blanket burrito

Alpharius Omegon: how do they need to cry for this scenario?

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 34: Unable to cope

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Three weeks later

It was Monday, again, and you woke up to the soft light of dawn. The room was quiet and, just like every other morning, your breakfast was already waiting for you on the bedside table.

Your mother was downstairs, cleaning the kitchen and, every now and then, you could hear the faint sound of her humming to herself as she worked.

You sighed, stretching your muscles as you took in your surroundings before attempting to sit up in order to make your way to the bathroom.

Your wheelchair was waiting for you, right next to the bed. You had started to use it two weeks ago, immediately after you had been discharged from Liverpool Hospital and, whilst you were given crutches as well, using them was still too painful for you. 

"Fuck," you muttered as you carefully maneuvered your body into the chair, trying to avoid hitting any of your stitches, but your emotions got the better of you once again.

You couldn't help but feel frustrated at the limitations your injury had placed on you, at the grueling physical therapy that left you in a constant state of pain and exhaustion. At the fact that you missed out on your career, your dreams and aspirations to become a doctor for now, your life being put on hold.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you tried to compose yourself, to push through the despair that threatened to overwhelm you. But it was no use. The tears came anyway, rolling down your cheeks in quiet, steady streams.

Your body shook with the force of your sobs, but you didn't try to stifle the sound. You let yourself cry, letting out all of the emotions that had been building up inside of you for the past few weeks. It was a release, a moment of raw vulnerability that left you feeling both exhausted and strangely relieved.

"Sweetheart, hang on," your mother said, hearing the sound of your cries from downstairs and rushing up to see you. "What's going on?"

You shook your head, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. "Nothing. I just...I am fucking sick of this. I don't want to do this anymore," you admitted, your voice trembling as you tried to keep yourself together.

Your mother nodded, a sad expression crossing her features as she took a seat next to you on the bed. "I know it's hard, sweetheart, but you need to be patient," she told you before helping you to the bathroom.

"You have therapy at noon, and you'll feel much better after a shower. Now come on," she reassured you, her voice soothing as she helped you on to the toilet which, in itself, was embarrassing enough for you to dread visiting the bathroom.

You sighed, nodding as you looked down at your hands, still trembling slightly from the force of your emotions.

"I hate this," you muttered quietly, not expecting your mother to hear you, but she did.

"I know you do, sweetheart, but it's going to get better," she reassured you, her voice steady and confident as, after you were done, she helped you into the shower where a small white chair awaited you.

"I am not going to therapy today," you told her, not wanting to endure it anymore.

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything further, knowing that you needed time to process everything that had happened over the past few weeks.

"Let me help you wash up first and get you dressed, then we can talk about it," she said, carefully soaping your body while trying to avoid touching any of your wounds.

"There is no need to talk about it mum. I am not going. I mean, what even is the point, huh?" you growled while looking at the large scar covering your abdomen  . "Why did this have to happen to me? I had it all and now, I'm left with this."

Your mother sighed heavily, her gaze briefly flicking down to your belly before meeting your eyes once more. "Y/N, you can still have a good life. There are so many people out there who love and care about you. And yes, it might seem like everything is falling apart right now, but trust me, you will get through this."

You shook your head, your emotions threatening to boil over as you fought the urge to break down in tears again.

You knew that your mother was right, that there were still people who loved and cared about you, but it didn't make the pain of losing your dreams any less acute.

"I know that there are people out there who still care about me, mum. I do. But I also can't deny the fact that I feel like a completely different person now," you whispered softly, the weight of your words heavy on your chest as you tried to put into words the turmoil of emotions that had been plaguing you since the accident.

"You know Cillian called for you yesterday, to see if you were alright," she told you, her voice gentle as she looked at you with a mixture of sadness and hope in her eyes.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to keep yourself from breaking down in tears once more. 

"Are you going to call him back?"  your mother asked carefully as she wrapped a fluffy white towel around your shoulders.

You sighed, leaning against her for support as you tried to gather your thoughts. The mention of Cillian's name brought back a flood of emotions that you had been trying to suppress for the past few weeks. The memories of his touch, his voice, and the way he looked at you - all threatening to overwhelm you with a longing that you weren't sure you were ready to face.

"I don't know," you finally replied, your voice barely more than a whisper as you looked away, unable to meet your mother's gaze and the truth was that, ever since you left the hospital in London, you were ignoring his calls and messages. "He should move on and find someone who isn't broken," you added, the weight of your words heavy in the air between you as you thought about the many interviews and media engagements on TV lately where he did well to pretend that everything was fine. He was promoting his new movie Oppenheimer again just before the upcoming Award Season and Oscars in three months, for which you now knew he received a nomination. 

"Y/N, that is not true. You are not broken," your mother said, and whilst she did not approve of your relationship with Cillian, she couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for you as she saw the pain that lingered in your eyes.

"Then fucking look at me! Look at me, mum!" you demanded, your frustration and anger boiling over as you gestured towards your scarred body with a trembling hand. Tears were streaming down your face as you looked up at your mother, pleading with her to understand the depth of your pain and confusion. You knew that you sounded harsh and unkind, but you couldn't help it. It felt like everything was spiraling out of control, and you couldn't find a way to make sense of it all.

Your mother did just that - she looked at you with a mixture of sadness and understanding while she helped you to get dressed. 

"I see you, Y/N. I see the pain and the struggle that you are going through, but I also see the strength and resilience that lies within you. You have always been a fighter and I have no doubt that you will overcome this," she said, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement as you let yourself fall back into the wheelchair before searching for some valium.  You needed to calm yourself down, to take the edge off of the overwhelming emotions that had taken hold of you.

"Thank you, mum," you whispered softly, taking a deep breath as you tried to push down the anxiety and despair that had settled over you like a shroud.

Your mother nodded, her eyes full of understanding as she leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I'm going to start making lunch now. Do you want anything in particular?" she asked, her voice gentle as she looked down at you with a mixture of love and concern.

"I am not hungry mum. I haven't even eaten my breakfast yet. I will just go back to bed, okay?" you told your mother, feeling utterly dejected. Your voice was small and barely above a whisper, but she heard you clearly.

"You need to eat something, sweetheart. And you need to go to your therapy sessions and treatment sessions. I cannot keep cancelling them for you," your mother said, her tone firm and unyielding, but you shook your head at her suggestions and demands.  "I do not want to go, mum. I am so fucking tired," you replied, your voice heavy with exhaustion and sadness. Your throat felt raw and sore from the force of your earlier sobs, but you refused to let your mother see you break down again. You couldn't bear the thought of her seeing you like that, it felt too vulnerable, too exposing.

You wheeled yourself away from her, back towards the bed and your mother simply sighed before, finally, giving up and heading back downstairs to call your father. She knew you needed space, that the past few weeks had taken a toll on you, but it didn't make her any less worried.

***

"I don't know what to do with her," she told him  later that day after he got home, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and frustration as she looked out at the rain beyond the window.

Your father sighed, his gaze flicking to where you were lying on the couch, your eyes glued to the TV as your fingers traced absentmindedly over the scar on your belly.

"She's been through a lot, love. Give it time," he said gently, but your mother shook her head.

"I know she's been through a lot, but this isn't like her," your mother explained. "She refuses to see the physiotherapist, she refuses to see the psychologist and she is taking too much valium," she continued, her voice tinged with a mix of worry and grief. 

Your father nodded, a frown etching itself onto his face as he watched you from where he stood, your eyes glued to the TV , lost in some drama you've probably watched a million times.

"Have you tried to confront her about it?" he asked, trying to reason with your mother and, of course, she nodded.  "Yes, I have. But she just shuts down and tells me to mind my own business. She has been isolating herself from us and from the rest of the world. She hasn't even had contact with..." your mother began to say, wiping away a rogue tear that had escaped her eye, just as your father interrupted her. 

"Don't you dare say his name in my house," he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger as he looked towards your mother. She recoiled at the intensity of his gaze before she continued. "If it wasn't for this man, she wouldn't be in this situation!" your father growled, his voice low and dangerous as he glared at your mother. "She needs time to heal and figure things out on her own. She doesn't need him complicating matters further," he added before pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, his anger palpable in every line of his body.

Your mother sighed, shaking her head as she looked at him with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "I know, but I actually think that she could benefit from his presence at the moment. He called last night, and it sounded like he's really worried about her, and I am worried too," your mother reasoned, her voice soft and understanding as she looked at your father with a mixture of pleading and hope in her eyes.

Your father sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm himself down. He knew that your mother was right - Cillian's presence could be just the thing that you needed. But something in him rebelled at the thought of it.

He had always been the overprotective father, and the thought of his little girl getting tangled up in a rather messy relationship with a man who was even older than him, made his gut twist in a way he couldn't quite explain.

"Fine," he finally conceded, nodding his head in agreement before looking at your mother. "Call him and ask him to come up to Liverpool for a week. Maybe he can get through to her and make her take her treatments seriously," he told your mother, his jaw set firmly in determination as he looked at her. "But there is no fucking way this man is staying here over night. He needs to organize himself some accommodation in town," your father added, his voice firm and unwavering.

"We do have a guestroom, you know," your mother countered, her eyebrows raised in a challenge. "It would be good for him to be here when she has a breakdown again. Maybe it will help," your mother replied gently, knowing that she was pushing the limits of her husband's patience. She had seen the way Cillian looked at you in hospital, and she knew that he cared for you deeply. 

Your father sighed, his gaze flicking towards the couch where you were still lying in silence.

"Fine," he relented, his voice filled with a mixture of reluctance and resignation. "He can stay in the guestroom," he confirmed and your mother nodded, relief flooding her features as she moved towards your father and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Thank you. I know it's not ideal, and that it goes against every protective instinct you have as a father and a man of faith, but I truly believe this is what she needs right now," your mother told him before, without your knowledge, making the call. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[milkzoro]

backrooms

warnings: MDNI, gore, sadism, dark content, surgery, blood, organs, fucking open wounds, non-con?

minors do not read. please look at warnings.

summary: a doctor does unnecessary surgery on you.

☆彡

“where am i.” your heart shook with each second passing by.

it’s so cold and the room smells thick, like mildew and cleaner, you were almost suffocating. endless hallways formulate as you’re running faster. was there really no end?

someone’s here though. you heard it, a voice calling out a number, “238,, 238?……… shit.” it echoed over and over again, what are these numbers?

the white walls and tiles didn’t seem bright at all, the lighting in the atmosphere was dim, lights flickering the deeper you went.

footsteps… rubber soles squeaked against the ground.

“238? now why are you out here by yourself, let’s get you back to your table.” he handled you with care, effortlessly moving you with him. you wanted to retaliate but was unable too.

the man, or… doctor?, towered over you. his presence scared you but something allowed you to make eye contact with him. his eyes glowed yellow. he was not smiling, there wasn’t any sort of emotion lingering in his face.

you felt tightness suffocating you,, moments’s like this were fabricating out of thin air. these tattered and dirty restraints, the doctor did not put these on you. buckles tucked your arms tightly behind your back, you were choking on your words, unable to speak.

why am i in restraints? what is he doing?

“a-are you my doctor?”

“no.” he continued to lead you towards ‘your room’.

you walked in front of him, feeling his presence guiding you to the correct room. his eyes were glued to you and you dared not to look back. your eyes squinted tightly as panic starts to set in.

the empty walls felt like an additional restraint weight on you, not one aspect of this place was comforting. there was a door though, it appeared after, what it seemed like, hours of aimlessly walking.

“we’re back, let’s get you on the table.” he assisted you and you settled on the cold surface, unsure of what to do next. hinges and rummaging sounds filled the room, hearing a final ‘snap’ of his gloves as he turned back to you. he briefly looked at a document before turning his attention back to you.

“hmm, y/n-ya? i have a lot planned today, there’s something i’ve been wanting. and you’re my lucky guest.”

with your arms still tied behind your back he reaches his gloved hand up to your lips.

terror consumed your face. “please! what are you gonna to do me?”

he looked so evil standing before you. his lips curled into a smirk before answering. “hmm i’m gonna cut you up, play with ya a little bit.”

you froze.

“open up, it would be beneficial if you would swallow this for me. say ahh-”

you didn’t trust this man but there was no way you could make it out of here on your own, maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel if you just comply.

without a word, you open your mouth for the doctor.

“can i ask what that was?”

“ketamine.”

“…”

“it’s like an anesthetic, keep you calm, the pain will be pleasant okay y/n-ya, don’t worry darling. i’ll fix you up after.”

~

you laid still on the table, the effects of the drug taking over your body.

you could barely move, your finger tips traced along the edge of the table to make sure you could still move. not much but there was still a little bit of feeling there, and you noticed your restraints were off as well.

the room now had a glow to it, it felt dream-like. ahh yes this is just only a dream. a soft smile came to your lips while your mind chilled out.

“you’re being so obedient, y/n-ya, thank you. gonna get started okay.”

~

he heard soft whines from you as his blade sliced effortlessly through the first layer of your skin, seeing the scarlet liquid made his eyes sparkle. he cut two deep cuts to test the waters. one placed on top of your right thigh and one smaller on your abdomen, right below your belly button. you were hardly moving. maybe he had given you too much.

“can you speak y/n-ya?” there was a tinge of concern in his voice.

you were unresponsive.

he sighed, he wanted to hear you. but the sight before him made his cock twitch. your parted lips, red liquid pooling around your body, you looked so beautiful.

he couldn’t wait, his cuts were astonishing, like he was proud of his work. they weren’t deep enough though, he had to do some removing..

the scalpel shined under the dim light as his prepared his section. his blade making a fine line of a cut around the width of your thigh. small beads of crimson gathered before he wiped them away, he cut deeper.

it felt never ending, going through layers of skin, fat, muscle and eventually bone. he was finished, eyes filled with desire as he hurried to clean up his workspace. he properly conserved your severed limb. now for the hole.

there was a perfectly snug pocket that was already naturally within the thigh. it rested between the biceps femoris and the intermuscular septum, those were two main muscles and they connected with a soft, fatty tissue that easily broke away with light pressure.

he wiped his hands clean before removing a condom from his lab coat pocket. his hands were trembling with excitement.

the doctor was too impatient, his cock hardened with every sight of you. he took one last look at you before lining himself up with your sciatic nerve. he sighed heavily as he pushed all the way in. feeling your nerves and tendons pop against his shaft made his eyes roll back. “f-fuck.”

he began to slowly fuck himself into your thigh once he felt the tension of tissue melt away. pumping in and out as red liquid squirted onto the operating table. loud groans filled the space, he was so close, but he needed something from you.

he continued his deep thrusts as he shoved two of his fingers into another open hole in your thigh. it was another nerve, this one controlled your movements. he needed to see you writhe in pain.

his long fingers scissored and curled inside your tissues, pushing up and swirling trying to get you to move.

“c‘mon y/n-ya…” his breaths were shallow, he was near his high.

your right leg started to spasm and squirm under the doctors touch. he even stole some groans from you. the pain must be unbearable.

his head fell back as he heard those sweet whines from you. your severed thigh jolted against him causing him to fuck your hole deeper.

“fuckk just like that haah-“ his moans grew more and more sporadic as the heat in his lower abdomen grew stronger.

the blood and fluids made it so so slippery, it was hard to manage his thrusts but fuckk he was enjoying every second of it.

his eyes tightened as he felt his orgasm taking over. one last look at your emotionless face had him there, rutting recklessly into your broken down tissues. he whined and panted, one last pump sent him over the edge.

“shit! fuck. fuck—. fuuuck.” his words were drawn out as he came down from his high, lazily pulling himself out and removing his gloves and ruined condom.

only one limb down and he gets to play with you for hours. how lucky is he.

‘please just wake up soon.’ he wanted to feel your cunt while your were conscious.

[ryuichirou]

More dark hcs

We have a bunch of asks about some dark-themed hcs, I’ll try to reply to everything today. As always, it took me ages, but I am still grateful for these asks. Thank you to all the Anons in this post!

Ships mentioned in this post: Ortho/Idia (Igni mob/Idia), Floyd/Idia, Jade/Idia, Trey/Idia, Trey/Vil

Anonymous asked:

Do you have yandere headcanons for tweels? Or they are not much different in your opinion?

In terms of darkness and fucked-up-ness, they really aren’t very different; I feel like every single hc list we have for the tweels is somewhat dark, but! A yandere is a bit different because yandere’s actions are motivated by obsessive love and devotion.

And I am not saying that Jade and Floyd with their “now I’m interested, now I’m not” personalities can’t get obsessive, but it’s a bit more tricky for me to think about them in this scenario. But “tricky” doesn’t mean “impossible”, so yes, I do in fact have some yandere headcanons for them! I hope I don’t repeat myself though, sorry if I do.

The target of their obsession in this list is Idia, I hope this is okay with you.

Alright, let’s go then:

Anonymous asked:

Just to complete all of Idia’s evil exes, how about headcanons for the Tweels and Trey as yanderes for him (Sorry, Idia, I swear I do love you 😭)

(Idia deserves all the love, especially if it’s obsessive, Anon….)

Jade+Floyd/Idia:

The more Idia tries to avoid them, the more obsessive they become. They didn’t mind him paying attention to other people and doing other stuff at first, but the more Idia openly avoids the Tweels, the more they want him. At first they just started to get clingier: Floyd literally started touching and hugging Idia all the time, Jade – texting Idia every other minute and cooking for him. It was almost funny and cute at first (not to Idia though): it’s as if Idia just got two love interests at the same time!

One day they would just break every single gadget and machine in his room. For no reason other than they really wanted his attention, and he didn’t give it to them. Of course, Idia would be absolutely distraught after that, but it’s okay, they are here to cuddle him while he is having a panic attack. Or haze him more… these two are such childish jealous brats sometimes. They might even dispose of Ortho if there is “no other choice” for them.

Sometimes they get jealous of each other too, but it’s mostly just Floyd getting fussy. Still, it was Jade’s suggestion to start marking Idia’s body just so they each know which part of him belongs to whom. Sometimes they start arguing about it, but it’s for a show: they know that Idia gets nervous and scared because of that, so if they poke him enough, he might start promising things! Like, maybe he’d give one part of his to Jade first, but then give it to Floyd… what other things Idia could promise them? They wonder.

DMMD Virus and Trip Ending. If you know, you know. If you don’t know: I think they would kidnap him at some point and keep him as their plaything. Sometimes they would take turns, sometimes they would have sex with him together, sometimes they would just sit there and talk about how everyone else is doing while Idia is stuck here with these two. Idia’s body got used to the pain (and pleasure), but the emotional torture keeps Idia’s wounds fresh.

If this is what happens, they would make everyone think that Idia is dead because now he only exists to be their precious toy. Even Azul wouldn’t know that Idia is still alive, and the Tweels would find it hilarious because they would have a somber conversation with Azul about how horrible Idia’s fate is, and then come back home to see him tied to a bed, hungry, miserable and barely resembling a human being. But oh so loved!

Trey/Idia:

Maybe one of the reasons why Trey got so obsessed with Idia is that Idia sees right through him (even though Trey’s also in denial about many things about himself). And while choosing whether to be wary of Trey or to call him out for his lies, Idia chose both… At first, Trey felt confusion, but then his interest in Idia just kept growing, and then he started to show up in his dorm again and again. People started gossiping  that these two are dating, and that Idia probably used some kind of charm or love potion to attract Trey. The second part is obviously false, but the dating part became true at some point… somehow.

Yes, teeth, OF COURSE we’re going to talk about teeth, come on, it’s Trey. Trey brushes Idia’s teeth for him. At first he just checked on his teeth every morning and evening, then one time he brushed Idia’s teeth for him just to show him a proper way to do it… but now he does it 3 times per day every single day. This isn’t just him taking care of Idia’s teeth (even though he always talks about how Idia isn’t going to do a good job if Trey isn’t helping him, and somehow phrase it in a nice way), this is him having a special tradition only for them…

Idia knows that Trey is bad news, and he doesn’t even fully understand why they started dating, but he just can’t resist him anymore. Trey seems so wishy-washy to others, but Idia knows that he could be stubborn and strict in a very sneaky way. They never argue, but Idia still can never “win” somehow – he always has to do what Trey thinks would be best for him. And Trey genuinely believes that he knows best, sometimes he thinks that Idia is a bit… inadequate at living. But he feels it very lovingly, very parentally, but still very-very sexually somehow… in his ideal world, Idia would rely on him so much that he would stop doing anything by himself, even the most basic things.

Idia never talks to anyone, but if he does, Trey gets jealous. He is very jealous of whoever Idia is talking to while he is playing games. Sometimes he wishes he could just break all of his computers and stuff like the Tweels would, but these aren’t his methods. His methods are to poison Idia’s sweets to make him so sick that he wouldn’t be able to do anything but throw up, cry and cling to Trey for a couple of days. It’s okay, when he gets better, Trey will nurse him right back and make sure he eats plenty.

He is very protective of Idia, and if someone is legitimately mean to him, he’ll never forgive that person. For some reason it’s easier for him to stand up against Idia’s bullies than to stand up against Riddle’s mom lol Anyways, with his mind being all messed up because of this obsession, he might actually do the yandere thing of killing a bunch of people for Idia’s sake. He’ll never let Idia know about it of course, but Idia isn’t stupid: he can see that something about Trey’s eyes changed. And he is legitimately scared of him.

Yeah, speaking of Trey! What a smooth segue lol

Anonymous asked:

Hi, I really like your character thoughts! I was wondering if you dive a bit into Trey's darker side and some more TreyVil headcanons? Thank you!

Thank you for enjoying our posts, Anon! <3 Trey/Vil as a ship doesn’t appear here very often, but I feel like whenever I think about them together, they just keep growing on me woah.

Of course Trey is obsessed with Vil’s teeth, that’s a given. And even though Trey doesn’t have Rook levels of dedication to his creepiness craft and doesn’t know everyone’s dental situation, he still thinks that Vil is one of the best ones. He was also lucky enough to witness Vil’s evening routine once, and while Vil found it intimate in a subtle way, to Trey it was so much more than that. He started dreaming about the way Vil brushes his teeth all the time. It’s so elegant, but still a bit messy (a little bit of toothpaste stuck to his lip for a couple of seconds before he rinses his mouth…), but also absolutely perfect, but also so… vulnerable before Trey’s eyes. He really wanted to masturbate while touching his teeth.

The fact that Vil is more experienced and sexually aware than some other potential partners of Trey is something that Trey has to constantly keep in mind. He does enjoy Vil being flirty and even hinting at things at times, but at the same time, if Trey gets too horny, Vil will definitely notice and address it. And it’s great when the timing is more or less appropriate, but if Vil notices that Trey is horned up when they’re discussing things like dental hygiene (embarrassing) or something horrible (like things that happen in the film industry)… then Vil might realise that he gets bad vibes from Trey for a reason and stop talking to him, and Trey doesn’t want that.

Trey has a rape kink, and he wishes it was purely hypothetical. Sometimes he has intrusive thoughts when he chats or hangs out with Vil about how technically he could assault him right here, or at least try to (since Vil isn’t that easy to assault). But would the thrill be worth the risk? Trey usually decides that it wouldn’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that sometimes he dreams about different scenarios in which he would rape Vil. And he isn’t always fully asleep when he has these dreams…

One time Trey saw Vil being very puzzled, angry and a bit embarrassed. He knew exactly why, but asked him about what was going on anyway, and after avoiding answering for some time, Vil confessed that somebody stole his used underwear. Trey expressed that this was super messed up and comforted Vil, gently ensuring him that it will be okay… and it’s honestly a miracle that Vil didn’t notice that Trey was lying through his teeth. Of course it was him who stole it. Another intrusive thought.

Trey would love to make Vil obsessed with his cakes, and by “obsessed” I mean “literally addicted”. Vil is way too good at avoiding sweets, but this could be changed if Trey figures out how to make a potion, one drop of which would make anyone who takes a bite addicted to this food forever. Of course, Vil is great at potions, and there is no way just any potion would work on him, so for now Trey is experimenting and using his own dormmates as guinea pigs. This is his private science project that he has to keep in secret from both Vil AND Rook…

Or something among the lines~

Alright, I don’t have a segue for this one, but let’s come back to Idia for a moment because we have another ask about him!

This is related to this post.

Anonymous asked:

I know you went into this in another post but what other ways has Ortho had other students haze Idia?

Alright, a couple of more ideas! Not a lot though, because I can’t share some because I want to draw them, and also I am a bit tired lol but still, I am happy you like this theme, Anon! You’re inspiring me to think about it more…

Ortho didn’t intend it to be a roast, but he made the other students chant at Idia about his love for Ortho when he left his room one time. This poor guy opened the door and got called a brocon by like 40 people. He got so terrified and shocked that he couldn’t move for a minute.

Another one that Ortho didn’t expect to end up being so evil is that he let the other students into Idia’s room at night and let them steal all of his clothes + his blanket, including the ones he was wearing while asleep. Idia woke up completely naked with zero clothes and a bunch of people outside waiting for him to laugh at him and take pictures.

Another time when Ortho let the guys into Idia’s room at night was when he wanted them to wake him up in a fun way! And the guys ambushed his bed, grabbing him, jumping on him, spraying him with water and making loud noises into his ears. After that Idia started stuttering, and it continued for a week… it’s a miracle it went away, to be honest. And also he pissed himself.

[rageprufrock]

Sneak Peak: MLC Fanfic

I have so many chores to do so instead I am on tumblr posting this little snippet instead because adulthood is a SCAM.

Anyway, please have some in-progress modern AU where Jiao Liqiao hits Di Feisheng with a car.

The whole thing starts when Jiao Liqiao hits Di Feisheng with an orange Hummer outside of the Alliance Security headquarters while he's on the phone with Li Lianhua.

***

Six hours later, Li Lianhua is sitting around in Di Feisheng's hospital room dressed like someone's dad's dirty uncle best friend: beat up pajama pants, a shirt he'd grabbed at random hearing the shriek of tires through the phone line, and a pair of Fang Duobing's fucking sky blue Adidas slides he'd stolen as he'd bolted out the door.

"It's not that I want to criticize you, lao-Di," Li Lianhua says, critically, "but I told you to run that woman out of town as soon as humanly possible at least five times."

Di Feisheng, who's been provided pain medication and is angry about it, busies himself with glaring at the ceiling. 

"Now look at you," Li Lianhua goes on, like a bastard, "you've got a hairline fracture in your foot, you've got a broken leg, three cracked ribs, a low grade concussion, and also you're the top four trending tags on Weibo." 

That these are factual statements does not make Li Lianhua's continued, unwanted presence in Di Feisheng's hospital room any less insufferable. 

"Alliance Security CEO accident," Li Lianhua reads off his phone. "Alliance CEO car crash. Alliance CEO crazy girlfriend. Alliance CEO handsome." 

Di Feisheng's head lolls around so he can center a wild-eyed glare at Li Lianhua.

"Why are you here?" he asks through gritted teeth.

Li Lianhua squints at him. "Can you be considered human?" he demands. "There I was, enjoying my Saturday morning like a normal person—"

"You were calling me to complain that our CDN felt 'kind of slow,' like an asshole," Di Feisheng corrects.

"—and then I hear you yelling and the sounds of vehicular violence," Li Lianhua goes on. "Any person with a heart would be concerned."

"Fang Duobing made you come," Di Feisheng says.

"Fang Duobing made me come," Li Lianhua agrees.

"Well I'm not dead, so you can leave now," Di Feisheng mutters.

"'As someone who has also wanted to hit their boss with a car, but never truly had the courage, I respectfully acknowledge Jiao Liqiao as my master and will endeavor to serve her as a faithful student in all things,'" Li Lianhua reads, going back to scrolling through Weibo. "'I never want to know the truth or any details about why she did it. Just that she hit this beautiful mean-faced millionaire with a car is enough. I would die for her.'"  

Di Feisheng goes back to staring at the ceiling and begins to systematically reflect on the wrongs that have led to specific terrible moment. This begins with lingering resentment over college scheduling that had put him in a 9:30 programming basics class with Li Xiangyi and concludes with admitting that perhaps Fang Duobing had been right when he'd said, two years ago, "A'Fei, you can't just tell a woman it's fine if she's in love with you and that you guys can keep working together but that it's none of your business." But at that point, Fang Duobing was still the infant Li Xiangyi was fucking as some kind of weird post mental breakdown enrichment activity, and seemed like a poor source of professional counseling. In the years since, Di Feisheng can admit that while Fang Duobing continues to be an infant Li Xiangyi is fucking as a weird post mental breakdown enrichment activity, he has a sharp and nuanced emotional intelligence—as long as it has nothing to do with his profoundly repulsive attachment to Li Xiangyi. 

"Miss Jiao is going to get some truly staggering letters in jail," Li Lianhua observes with audible admiration in his voice. For not the first and likely not the last time, Di Feisheng swears never to answer another phone call or text message from this bastard again.  

"If you like her so much, you should hire her once she's served her time," he mutters through gritted teeth. The sharp edge of pain is starting to break through the drugs, but he feels clearer, sharper, less like he's trying to hear shouting through the rush of a flowing river. "Is there a reason you're still hanging around here?" 

Li Lianhua slants him a look, beaming with charity. "Now don't get shy, A'Fei—"

"Stop calling me A'Fei," Di Feisheng snaps.

"—I came in a DiDi, so Xiaobao is coming to pick me up," Li Lianhua finishes. "You'll be back to your peace and blessed quiet soon." 

Which is of course the precise moment that little treasure of Li Lianhua's pokes his abominably sunny little face into the doorway of the sickroom and declares, all smiles:

"Okay! I just finished with the nursing jiejies! They’re wrapping up your discharge paperwork and we should be able to take you home with us this afternoon.” 

“What,” Di Feisheng and Li Lianhua say.

[devoureddreaa]

diary of a mad black woman

i’m totally not projecting in this /hj. buuuuuut, i love love love the movie: diary of a mad black woman. probably the best piece of fiction tyler perry has created. but, i hope you enjooooy!!

cw: toji is an asshole (mb…), you’re gonna be kind of a bitch too if you squint, relationship issues, infidelity issues (on both sides), an established relationship coming to an end, you’re not getting back with him….. (sorry not sorry), uhh y/n is black woman coded (hii ting at the title). lemme know if i forgot anything !!!!

five long, draining years.

five years ago..you married toji right after you two graduated. don’t worry, your clan didn’t sell you. marrying toji is what you wanted to do. only god knew how bad of a decision you were

toji fushiguro, had his owns dreams and aspirations. ones that most possibly didn’t involve you whatsoever, but you forced yourself into them. the first year was just fine, it was like you were laying on cloud nine.

that was until you were pushed off that cloud.

he moved you away from your home. he wanted to “forget about the past” he said, and leave everything behind. and that included your own family..you didn’t know how long it had been since you last heard their voices. now you were isolated, and that only made things worse cause toji knew what sort of power he had over you now.

you did anything in your power to stay in his vision. whether that was dealing with his manipulative behavior, or even his infidelity..you sticked around.

cause you loved him??

or cause you didn’t have anyone else to go to?

weird, cause then you got kicked out of your own home and he got a divorce. he packed all your shit in a truck and replaced you for some hooker. bet enough booger sugar and lube got her to stay. you drove that truck back over to your grandmothers house…who almost shot you since it was the middle of the night. you got over it after a few months. got a job, made friends, reconnected with family..even your mother, and maybe even found some newfound love.

that’s until toji got injured and he was temporarily paralyzed. the hooker he wanted so badly wanted to leave him for dead, but you..were still legally his wife. so you made the last call.

to keep him alive.

as you sat there, thinking about picking up the pieces of what used to be your life..you realized something. every room in this place that you used to call home held a painful memory for you. even though toji’s suffering…something in you wants him to suffer even more. few months in a divorce can take a person through just as many emotions as five years in a marriage. oh, and you’re starting to feel all of them at once.

but the one that is clear…is rage.

now here you were, in your old home, in the office looking for old bill files for him. while he sat in his wheelchair…quietly.

shuffling through the stake of papers, you started to shake your head. “i don’t see it..”

toji’s head perked up, “you don’t see it?” he repeated, in somewhat of a mocking tone..

“no.”

he scoffed, “you really are good for nothing.” here he goes again. “find my bank statement and get the accountant on the phone.”

you looked up from the stack of papers and looked up at him. into those dead cold eyes, those eyes that used to give you so much love..but now…they just give you a whole lotta hurt.

“then call somebody, anybody and you can leave.” toji motioned down to the wheelchair he was sitting it. “this, is not gonna beat me.”

“oh really?” you’re tone was cold, ice cold. you were watching a grown man, that was fully capable of finding his own bank statements, throw a fit cause you couldn’t find it.

his legs were paralyzed, not his fucking arms.

“yea, and whatchu staring at?”

“you get stabbed in the spine, and you’re still the same.”

“i am who i am, and im gonna die that way. toots.” toji gave you a dirty, damn near disgusting look as he looked you up and down. “i don’t even know why you’re here, i’m not givin’ you shit. matter fact, where are my kids?”

“you done, toji?”

“yknow what bitch, just get out.”

you could feel your jaw clenched up when he said that.

he pinched the bridge of his nose, “i ask you to do one simple thing, and you can even do that after five— get out!”

you dropped the papers that were in your hands, you got up from the rather comfortable leather seat. grabbed your things from off the desk and proceeded to take your exit back home quietly.

but then you stopped.

who the hell is he? the man who hasn’t dont anything but hurt you. and now…you were about to let him keep doing exactly that? keep letting him control you like some toy. nah…that ain’t gon slide. before you could even think about it, your arm swung forward then swung back..the back of your hand connecting with toji’s face.

you turned yourself back around and leaned down to face him, placing your hands on the arm rest of the wheelchair..practically caging him in.

“let me explain something to you.” your tone of voice was sick, nasty. it was damn near like you were spitting pure vemon. “old y/n..is gone. and you will not talk to me like that.”

“now i came here..to help you. but now, i’m here to get even.”

“y/n, you—”

“shut up!” your yell echoed through the quiet home, the rain outside just barely being able to heard over it.

“you want your whore..” you walked over and grabbed the picture of toji and his little hooker..that was framed in a pretty little frame. “and your damn kids?”

you raised your arms up and threw the picture onto the ground, shattering the frame. “do you see what you left me for?!” you bend down and quickly picked up the picture, shoving it in toji’s face.

“this..is what you left me for!”

you started to rip the picture to shreds right in front of him, letting the loose parts fall to the floor. “she didn’t give a damn ‘bout you toji, she told them to let you die.!”

you walked back over by the desk, using your arms to sweep the top of it clean..everything falling on the floor, some of it even breaking.

“and yknow what’s funny? hm?” a condescending smile grew on your face. “i fucking gave you life boy, even though you took it from me.”

you’ve never seen toji so quiet and still before for how long you’ve known, but oh, that didn’t mean you were about to let up. you grabbed a play bat that was sitting on the floor..

“ya kids..your boys.” you swung the plastic bat and hit toji in the head. “i wanted children toji! and had you not been a public sex-stop, we would have them!”

you backed away and anger started to consume you. it showed in your face, your body movement, even in the way your heart was racing. you didn’t know if this felt good or not..

“got me all stressed out, my hair fallin’ out, my weight up ‘n down, can’t keep anything down! two miscarriages! you took life from me, and you never even said ‘i’m sorry’..”

was that it? the end of your rant.

hell nah, you walked out of that office. and you let toji sit there alone for a few days. when you can back it smelt rancid.

“god..” you groaned and covered your nose. walking up behind him. “ya smell like shit.”

you grabbed the handle bars and started to walk, then you started to run towards the bathroom.

“y/n. hell are doing?” toji asked, a bit afraid (that’s a new one.)

you ignored his concerns, barging through the bathroom doors to reveal a tub filled with water and a little bit of bubbles.

“y/n, stop—!”

the wheelchair hit the edge and toji was flipped over into the water. you pushed the wheelchair back and watched him, in silence for a bit.

“bathe him, feed him, clothe him..they say.” you say on the edge of the bathtub just watching him. “what bout me, huh? and jesus, stop lookin’ like an idiot.”

you begin to light a cigarette while toji just laid in the slightly cold water. “you try and..kick me out of our house, and keep me away from our money? hell nah. fuck nah, at that.”

you looked back over to see that toji’s head was started to submerge under the water. you quickly got up, dropped your cigarette in the water, and practically dragged toji back up to the surface.

“remember toji, i was there..when all you had was me.”

you stepped out of the tub and left him there.

later, you both sat at the oddly long dinner table. you on one side, and toji on the other. weird thing was you had a plate with a salad on it, and toji? he didn’t have a thing in front of him.

meanwhile, you were eating like it was the best salad you had ever had.

suddenly, toji had..started to cry? “y/n..”

your eyes perked up, “awe, you hungry?”

maybe he was. but who fucking cared? “hm..maybe you should go into the kitchen and get yourself something to eat then hm?” the smile on your face was brutal

“christina..” toji quietly cried out.

you looked over your shoulder, confused. “christina?!” you looked back over at the pitiful man in front of you..trying to hold back to boiling laughter. “christina’s gone…”

you smiled wildly, “your little tramp didn’t have any money to her so she left.” looking back down at your plate using your fork to pick up for more food. “just like your slut.”

“she packed all her shit, and some of yours toji fushiguro..and went on her merry way.” you started to laugh. “come to think of it..she cleaned out your bank account. all of it!”

“oh, sweetheart, you tried to keep from me? and she ended up taking it all..huh?!” you started to laugh even harder, throwing your head back and slamming your fist on to the table.

this was even better then therapy.

“toji..you are like soooo many men.” you paused to get a good look at him. “you’d rather lay with dogs then make it work with a women.”

“you’re a bitch ass, toji..a coward.”

you forcefully pushed your plate of food, sending it flying across the table towards toji. it ended up landing on his lap and some fell onto the floor. but you sure as hell weren’t gonna pick it up, you got up and went upstairs to go to sleep.

toji ended up getting better, and you let all your anger out on him..later forgiving him. you took that divorce as a blessing, the thing you used to see as curse. he still loved you, but you didn’t love him the same. you didn’t want to be back with him. pain can hurt someone, but it won’t change anybody; and toji is a perfect example of that.

but you? oh you knew better. and anyone that would cross you in the future would learn that.

signed,

a mad black woman.

did it well…and did it good. PLSASE WATXH HIS MOVIE, I LOVE IT!!! anywho coming with the content..smash that like button for more bangers!!! /lhj but, hope you enjoyed!! love you baaaaaaai (if you saw any typos..not you didn’t)

[darlingsfandom]

can you please do one with our queen kitten braden maybe reader is having her baby ❤️ and we follow them through the pregnancy

She is a queen and I love her so much 🥺 this is a cute request! I’m excited !

I’m sorry I couldn’t find a gif ): I hunted for one for awhile ):

This 97% fluff! 3%smut! Not proofread !

Tw: talks of birth , mentions of characters from the movie.

I couldn’t think of the name for that baby! So you get to name the baby (:

“Oh for fucks sake!” You rolled your eyes as you pushed yourself off the bed to waddle your way into the bathroom.

“If it helps, you have a cute waddle !” Kitten followed you to the bathroom and leaned on the door frame with a smile plastered on her face.

“It doesn’t !” You snapped before your eyes started to water. “I’m sorry honey, I didn’t mean that.” Kitten walked over to you and sat on the edge of the tub before she placed her thumbs on her cheeks and wiped away your tears.

“I know you didn’t , I know it’s not easy and I’m not going anywhere.” She kissed you softly on the lips before standing up to help you onto your feet. “Do you need help wiping ?” She handed you the tissue.

“Kitten…” you took the tissue from her and playfully rolled your eyes before cleaning yourself up.

“What? I’m just trying to help you.” You shook your head as you cleaned up, washed your hands and splashed some water at her making her gasp . She chased after you until you were on the bed. Kitten climbed into bed with you and pinned you down before covering your face in kisses making you giggle.

Never in your life did you think you’d become a mother and let alone with your best friend. Kitten and you met when you were fifteen and she was seventeen, both of you got called into the principals office for different reasons that day. She explained how she wrote about something sexual but added some humor to it so it wouldn’t be that bad. You on the other hand were in the office for telling your teacher to fuck off and that people can wear what they please, little did Kitten know she was the reason. You had followed kitten around for the rest of the school year doing each others make up, you’d do her nails for her and she’d help you sow but when she was about to actually you took it upon yourself to follow her! Through thick and thin you stayed , even when you told her to stay away from Billy? Maybe it was Bobby? It didn’t matter, you were there to pick up the pieces.

And now here the two of you stand. Three years down the road laying in bed being covered in kisses as you had her child growing inside of you, well you helped make the little pain in the ass right now too. You also had taken her last name along with the pretty ring on your finger. Life had its ups and downs but it all ended up here.

“My pretty girl!” Kitten sat up on her knees as you laid on your elbows.

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I know you’re pretty!” Kitten poked your nose as she grabbed your maternity pants and helped you get them on.

“How can you think I’m pretty ! I’m huge!” You patted your stomach making her furrow her eyebrows together.

“You’re having our baby! What’s more beautiful than that hmm? Our little baby is going to the most precious thing to exist .” Kitten pulled you onto your swollen feet. You whined making her pout. She wrapped her arms around you before walking you back to the bathroom. You stood in front of the mirror before you focused on how she had started brushing your hair gently.

“How do you put up with me like this ? I’m a big mess of emotions and gas ! Oh my god! It’s embarrassing! How can you handle that part! And all my weird cravings ?? Why haven’t you left me?” You blabbered on making Kitten stop brushing your hair so she could place her hands on your shoulders to look into her eyes.

“I’m not leaving! I am your wife, thick and thin! Your emotions are getting to you okay. I’m excited to have a little family with you. Our family! We can start something new where it’s real love, we can raise our baby in the safe home neither of us had. Just because you’re gassy and five months pregnant doesn’t mean you’re ugly! It doesn’t mean I don’t love you! You’re not going to gross me out, scare me away. I made a promise that I was always going to love you and I’m keeping that promise.” Kitten kissed your head before she wiped away your tears along with some snot that dribbled down your nose with some tissue.

From that point forward Kitten wouldn’t let you lift a finger. The way she catered to you made you feel special , well even more special since she had always taken care of you in every way possible.

“Are you sure you want just polka dots? That’s kind of boring.” Kitten pouted as the two of you stood in the middle of the half made nursery.

“Kitten! It’s a nursery not a fashion week in Paris.” You rubbed your belly as you ate the peanut butter pickle that you made in the kitchen. Kitten made a face as you ate. She didn’t mind some other cravings but this one didn’t sit right with her.

“Besides we don’t have to be super fancy, it’s just got have the basics .” You waved the pickle a little before taking another bite.

“Honey, I love you but for the love of god… the pickles and peanut butter…”

“DONT BLAME ME! ITS WHAT BABY WANTS!” You pouted your lip at her making her lean in and kiss your pickled lips. She made a face again. “Kitten stop!” You finished the pickle and licked your fingers while she went back to picking a theme for the nursery. The two of you settled on woodland animals .

“Kitten!” You whined as she sat on the bed helping you fold all the new baby clothes that the two of you thrifted earlier.

“What do you need my darling?” She set her pile off to the side as you batted your eyelashes.

“Fuck me please ?”

“I think this is my favorite part of your pregnancy so far darling .” She smirked at you before laying you down gently. The sex wasn’t was rough as the two of you would normally like, but that didn’t stop Kitten from giving you amazing oral or they way she sucked on your swollen tits. “These are also part of my favorite things ! Your tits have gotten huge honey!” She kissed each of them gently because even the slightest touch had you cumming in seconds. It was almost possible that the two of you had more sex now !

Another month had passed making you now seven and a half months pregnant.

“Everything looks good!” Kitten squeezed your hand as the two of you watched the baby on the ultrasound. “Heartbeat sounds good.” The doctor looked at the two of you before she tilted her head. “Are you sure you don’t want to know the gender?”

“No… gender isn’t important.” You looked back at Kitten who was memorized at the picture of her baby moving peacefully in your belly.

“Yeah yeah no gender for now.” Kitten waved her hand.

“Alright, well you two are all set! Baby is happy and healthy in there. Keep up the good work and I’ll see the two, soon to be three of you in another mother or so!” The doctor gave you smile before letting you get cleaned up.

“You really don’t care what we have?” You asked Kitten walking down the street from the doctors office as she held your hand.

“No because I know I’m going to love our baby regardless .” She squeezed your hand tightly before continuing to walk with you to grab a little snack. You stopped in your tracks making Kitten stumble a little before she looked back at you with concern.

“Are you okay darling?” She ran her hand over your cheek slowly before you nuzzled against her hand.

“Kitten… I need sex!” Her lips curved into a smirk before she took you home as quickly as possible. This was her favorite part for sure.

Now with the final weeks around the corner , your boobs doubled in size, belly huge and round you were scared that you were going to pop any second. Kitten had made sure all the items you needed were in the diaper bag that the two of you thrifted. It did make you a little sad that you didn’t have a baby shower but you knew it was better not too considering both of your families didn’t care. Charlie had got the two of you some things and gave you the clothes that no longer fit her baby. Charlie had been helpful through your pregnancy giving you tips to help. Luckily for you Kitten had helped Charlie deliver her baby so you had two experts by your side.

The cool breeze came in your bedroom window while Kitten had you spooned in her arms. You were tossing a little bit before you felt like you had to pee. You took her arm off but not fast enough because when you were half way to the bathroom the feeling went down your leg and then it hit you,

“KITTEN! get up!! KITTEN!” You yelled making her freak out as she woke up to see you standing there soaked.

“Oh my god darling! Your water broke!” She held onto you before it dawned on the both of you that going to the hospital was the best idea. Kitten grabbed the bag from the nursery and was running like a chicken with its head cut off while you stood there frozen. It was happening.

“Are you sure it broke? It’s early!” You asked until the sharp pain of the contractions hit you. “Nope! It broke!” You placed your hands on your belly. Kitten waisted no time in helping you out of the house, into the car and drove as fast as she could to get you there.

The two of you made it in the hospital. While you got all taken care of Kitten went to make a call to Charlie to let her know the good news. Pretty soon Kitten was with you stroking your hair , holding your hand and talking to you about what she did when Charlie gave birth. This was your first kid. This was never what you thought your life would be and you wouldn’t change a thing!

“You need to push!” Kitten squeezed your hand as you laid there heavily breathing trying to push your baby out.

“I AM PUSHING! FUCK!” You squeezed her hand to the point you almost broke it. “FUCK KITTEN!” You yelled through gritted teeth.

“You’re almost there, I’m seeing the head.” Your doctor explained as she watched your birth. “One more big push okay! You got it!”

Your heart was about to burst from the stress of it. Your body was covered in a layer of sweat, body turned a different from all the blood rushing around , if looks could kill… everyone would’ve died twice over .

Your hand found kittens shirt and pulled on it pulling her closer as you screamed. She ran her hand over your head while watching you cry. She knew it was painful for you but you were doing so great.

With another big push that knocked the wind out of you the room suddenly went quiet for a second until the sound of the baby crying filled your eyes.

“Your baby is here!” You cried at the words spoken to you. Kitten helped you lay back and kissed your head as they cleaned up the baby. They did all the test and confirmed a healthy baby.

“All right mamas , who gets to hold baby first ?” The nurse asked.

“She does.” Kitten pointed to you. The nurse placed the baby in your arms and smiled down.

“Do you two want to know the gender now?”

“Yes.” Kitten and you said in unison.

“Welcome your baby girl to the world.”

“A girl!” Both you and kitten smiled before you started crying. “We had a girl!” Kitten couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. She was a proud mother. She was a proud wife. She was proud of you.

A couple hours later Kitten came out of the bathroom with another washcloth to wipe your face. She was determined to keep you clean as possible to make you feel better. Your daughter was in her little crib that hospital had wrapped up in a little pink blanket as you laid in your bed with heavy eyes. Charlie knocked on the door coming in with her baby on her hip and a small bouquet and her new boyfriend.

“Congratulations you two!” She set the flowers down next to you before kissing your head.

“Thank you!” Kitten gave Charlie a hug before taking her baby from her so you could give Charlie a hug.

“What did you name her?!?” Charlie bounced on her feet in excitement as she took her baby back from kitten.

“We don’t have a first name yet… but her middle name will be after her godmother … Charlie.” You grabbed kittens hand.

“I’m her god mother!” Charlie beamed !

“Wouldn’t pick anyone else!” You closed your eyes with a smile on your face as the drugs finally kicked in.

“Let’s let her rest.” Kitten spoke softly before she covered you with hospital blanket and kissed your head.

You and Kitten would never forget that day the two of became Three. The day you welcomed your little girl into the world weighing seven pounds five oz and twenty two inches long, she got that from kitten ! The two loneliest people on the planet who never thought they’d make it this far were now a happy family of three. Kitten got her dream girl, her dream life that she always wanted and she couldn’t be more thankful that you made it all possible .