#i really love this show for making me try new things!
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Out of 141 who would try to convince reader to marry them for benefits? (The benefit of being able to call reader their spouse but reader doesnât need to know that đ)
love this question! honestly, i think all of them would do something like this, but here is something with my hubby simon in mind!
you squint at simon, confused. "so... youâre suggesting we get married. for... benefits?â
âyeah.â simonâs reply is casual, his face blank as always. âpractical reasons. you get some perks, i get some perks. no big deal.â
you canât help but laugh. âjust like that?â
âjust like that,â he repeats, shrugging like itâs the most obvious thing in the world. âsaves us both the hassle.â
âright⊠for the benefits.â youâre not sure if youâre buying it, but he seems serious, and hey, who are you to question one of simonâs half-baked ideas?
the next few weeks are surprisingly easy. simon handles most of the paperwork, and soon enough, youâre both technically marriedâon paper, anyway. just for the benefits, you remind yourself.
but then... strange things start happening.
simon begins doing things he never used to. he starts showing up with coffee, your favorite kind, without you even asking. he picks up groceries for you, just because he thought you might be running low.
âyouâre... kind of acting like a husband,â you joke one night, feeling a strange warmth creep into your chest.
he grunts, brushing off your comment. âjust looking out for you. comes with the... agreement.â
and every time you bring it up, he has some new excuse, some âbenefitâ you never knew youâd signed up for.
you start catching him watching you a little longer than usual, his gaze soft, almost... affectionate. but whenever you ask, he waves it off, like itâs nothing.
finally, one night, you canât hold back. âsimon, this marriage...whatâs in it for you, really? donât tell me itâs just benefits. no one does all this just for some perks.â
heâs quiet for a moment, his face unreadable. then, his shoulders tense, and he sighs, almost... defeated. âmaybe i just wanted a reason to stay close. to call you mine. even if it was... only on paper.â
your heart skips a beat. all the little gestures, the quiet moments, everything starts making sense. âso... this wasnât just for the benefits?â
ânot really, no.â he looks at you, finally letting his guard drop, his eyes soft in a way they never are. âi wanted you to be mine. officially.â
itâs not a grand confession, not really. but itâs simonâs way, and in that moment, you realize itâs everything.
-----------------------------------------
@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic
#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x female oc#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley
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Hi! Do you take requests?
If so, I think a fic bases on this excerpt:
"she can't have her parents walking in again. poor cassandraâŠfinding your daughter with her whole face buried in between a girl's thighs is not the most ideal situation"
of your cailtyn story would be phenomenal đ
If you don't, feel free to ignore this! :)
Let's start by saying Caitlyn knows how to eat pussy and loves doing it :3 babe could have it for breakfast, lunch, dinner and even dessert. she wouldn't call herself an expert per se, but she's quite proud of her talent.
sure, receiving it feels goodâbut what's better than knowing you're making a girl cum with just your mouth? to cait, absolutely nothing. the moans, the hair-pulling, the thighs clenching against her head ⥠ugh chef's kiss.
( she came untouched a few times from it but you did not hear it from me ok? )
it's usually one the first things she does when you successfully sneak into her room. like a reward for getting through massive place she calls home without anyone noticing.
your back against the bed and legs immediately spread to expose the sight she absolutely adores. god, she could just stare at it forever and it'd still have the same effect in between her own legs. new panties are needed.
she doesn't dive in face-first like an animal the second your clothes are off, even if she does feel like a starved woman. she starts by slowly kissing your thighs and caressing any bit of skin she can, hand sneaking up your abdomen and ribs to massage your breasts a littleâdon't mind it.
âShould I continue?â cocky because she already knows the answer is a breathy âyes, pleaseâ.
oh and she gets way more cocky once she finally starts working on you, soft and slow stripes and twirls with her tongue. nothing fancy yet; she wants to tease a little more.
the second your hips start bucking into her mouth though? girl, grab onto something because she takes the signs IMMEDIATELY.
legs propped up on her shoulder while her hands hold your hips down to keep control of them. the slurping sounds are almost pornographic with how sloppy she's being. no whine coming from you is gonna make her stop any time soon. she's enjoying it waaaay to much already.
if she's feeling nice she will add a finger or two while sucking àčàŁâ curling them just right inside you, not in-and-out like crazy. her tongueâs already lapping at you pretty fast so no need to overwhelm youâŠyet.
she wishes you would look down at her for a sec to see that pretty expression better, but she also understands it's her own fault that your head is thrown back against the bed, clenching around her fingers while pulling at her hair. what a curse to be so good at pleasing girls.
she knew speeding up her movements wasn't a smart thing to do so late at night as soon as the loud whine that escaped your lips reached her ears. obviously louder than the previous ones.
the heavy thump on the door when it opened proved her right.
âCaitlyn.â
of course it had to be her mother out of all people.
cassandra's eyebrows furrowed as she looked away with a small huff, trying to erase the sight from her mind by blinking and observing every detail on the window. she thought caitlyn was trying to sneak out and get involved with stuff she shouldn't like she had done in the past with serious cases or something, not this!
âIt is 3 am; please take your⊠friend out of here.â a dismissive wave of her hand showed that there wasn't much room for arguingânone really because she's already out the door with a low mumble to herself before her daughter could say anything. tomorrow's talk is gonna be awful, that's for sure.
âjust keep quiet some more, then you can go home, alright?â the blue haired girl softly whispered, leaning up and kissing the soft skin on your shoulder to reassure that you're not leaving until you get a few well deserved orgasms, her fingers already going back to rubbing small circles.
she's not gonna let a pretty girl leave her bedroom unsatisfied even if it means getting caught again.
#pupi writes á°#IT TOOK ME SO LONG#i'm embarrassed#anyway#if this is shit pls let me now y'all#caitlyn kiramman x reader#caitlyn x reader#caitlyn smut#caitlyn kiramman smut#caitlyn kiramman#caitlyn arcane#arcane smut#arcane x reader#wlw smut#wlw nsft#sapphic writing#sapphic smut#how do i even write smut#I'M NEW AT THIS#why do i always post fics at 5 am#not good for my health
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I'm excited for your thoughts on the new season if/when you share them
It has legit taken me 3 days to come to terms with Act 1. Enough to be able to speak about it. Gunna apologize in advance for the wall of text, and Iâm hiding it under a break for spoiler reasons. Also prefacing with these are all just my opinions. All are free to disagree with me and RB with discussions/theories etc. just donât be a dick about it, Iâm not engaging in any discourse.
Ok. So. I have mixed feelings, and Iâm aware that this is because I donât have the whole story yet. So this is all contingent on how the rest of the season plays out.
First and foremost, Iâm⊠wildly swinging back and forth between love and disappointment for Viktorâs arc. So first the negative, and Iâll try to keep it brief because a lot of people have already expressed this and I donât need to be beating that particular dead horse.
Viktor has had his agency, his bodily autonomy, his original ideas and nearly everything that made him Viktor stripped away. Nothing so far has been his choice. And while this could have worked just fine for an original character, he wasnât. So there is a massive disconnect between what this character was/should have been. In League, it was all his choice (albeit with a healthy dose of mental illness thrown in, but still). AND it was very heavily suggested that many of the augmentations he performed werenât as extensive as he lead everyone to believe (namely the controlling/dousing of his emotions). But it appears that whatever the Hexcore did to him, itâs real. He is clearly having a difficult time accessing his emotions, and if he can feel anything, it is limited to the point of him being completely stoic. And the thing with stoic characters is that you obliterate any emotional payoff for the audience. Itâs very hard to make an audience feel an emotional connection to a characterâs story arc when they themselves donât feel anything (I have a theory about this though, but Iâll address it a little later in this post). And then there is the issue of Blitzcrank. Blitz was Viktorâs whole world, after his exile. How are they going to swing that? Like, Iâm not even asking for Blitz to be in Arcane (that would be great, but I really donât think they have time). But I stg if they take Blitz away from Viktor, make them someone elseâs invention (my suspicion is Heimer or he finds the idea in Skyâs journal)⊠Iâm sorry but no. This was Viktorâs idea, Viktorâs genius. I will genuinely be extremely upset if they take that from him too.
Then there is the whole situation with Sky. First, this girl was fridged. She was nothing but a plot device and continues to be just that. It feels hollow and forced, especially now that heâs hallucinating her as some sort of penance for what he did. (I have seen the prevalent theory that itâs the Hexcore using her image and his guilt to manipulate him, given that it âateâ her, and we have seen it âmanipulateâ him before when it punished him for trying to destroy it). But back to Skyâhe barely acknowledged that poor girl. The reason for that can be argued, whether itâs because heâs gay or because he was just so wrapped up in his one-track minded research. But regardless, there just wasnât enough setup between those two for this whole thing to have as much weight and meaning as I think itâs supposed to. Honestly to me (TO ME) it reeks of comphet. It feels like that random woman they threw at Poe Dameron to No Homo him. Iâm not even asking for Jayvik canon. But the creators were well aware of this ship, after all itâs the second most popular ship in this show and itâs been around since 2012 when Jayce was literally created for Viktor. Iâm asking for the bare minimum hereâthat itâs left open-ended as it was in League, open for interpretation.
Last negative I have is the whole Viktor Jesus thing. The first problem is I am pretty violently agnostic, and messiah narratives have never spoken to me. I donât enjoy them, they feel weak. The whole âordained by a higher powerâ thing is just⊠stale. Especially when this character originally had no higher power, he gave it to himself through his own hard work and ingenuity. Honestly, Viktorâs original arc is about as far from a Jesus allegory as you can possibly get. And I am absolutely terrified that theyâre going to end said Jesus arc the way youâd expectâwith him dying for it. Which leaves the moral of his story âdisabled man should have just accepted that he was going to die despite the fact that it was the oppression and xenophobia of Piltover that left him out to dry, without proper health care, accessibility, equality, or equity that lead to his terminal diagnosis to begin with.â Which is a very oppressor-centric narrative and we do not need another one of those.
Sorry, I know I said Iâd keep the negatives brief, and that was⊠not. My bad. But moving on!
Iâm not saying I didnât enjoy it, I did. I am working to embrace this new Viktor narrative and work it into my brain in a way that doesnât ruin the ship for me. So without further ado, the positives.
Jayce.
Jayce.
Jayce.
Iâd have to go back and time it, but it feels like he got more screen time in this first act than the entirety of the first season combined, and his character shined for it. It humanized him in ways season one never did. Heâs caring, heâs devoted, and he loved Viktor! No matter what kind of love you think it is, it proves he loved Viktor without a doubt. He carried Viktor several city blocks to the lab to save him, and then YES, he broke his promise about the Hexcore because he couldnât stand the thought of losing him!
And heâs funny! (The scene where he picks up the regular sized hammer in the fight against Renni and made that âthis is ironicâ face?? And then basically the entire interaction with Ekko? The hand me a tome thing, and then when he basically pulled this when Ekko suggested âso this is all your fault cuz you pissed off the Arcaneâ:
GOD that shit was great. Jayceâs personality just shined, and maybe itâs too much to hope, but maybe this will douse a little of the hate. Because instead of being a subtle hint at all of those things being true about him, itâs now overt. And when people lack media literacy, the hints have to be overt.
And th-the. The h. The HUG SCENE. I donât think I will ever emotionally recover from that scene. Starting with Viktor who, despite being clearly emotionallyâI dunno, vacant I guessâsounded so lost and scared when he said âwhat am I?â For me, it was whispers of that scene from The Last Unicorn: âwhat have you done to me?â And my poor sweet Jayce, who clearly hasnât left this damn lab except to go to Cassandraâs memorial. Sleeping on the desk and bleeding through his bandages because he doesnât want to spend a moment away from Viktor while he ârecovers.â And his euphoric response when he finds Viktor alive, when he realizes he hasnât lost him. And I OWE HIM AN APOLOGY, goddamn. I said in a post that âJayce will not understand.â I thought that was how Arcane was gunna start the divorce. But Jayce genuinely did not care, as long as his lover friend was alive. And just⊠Jayce being so affectionate through this entire scene. The hug obviously, but also blurting things he thought heâd never get to say to ViktorââIâm resigning from the council, my place was always here in the lab with you.â
And⊠the hug itself. I know weâre all analyzing it frame by goddamn frame, but I see exactly what everyone else seesâthere is a moment where Viktor very subtly smiles. But itâs gone in an instant, and it turns bittersweet. LOOK AT HIM.
There is something there, itâs just buried. Deep beneath the surface. It seems to say âI want this, I have wanted this for so long.â But then he realizes something, something I donât think weâre meant to understand yet. Maybe that he doesnât feel anything about it anymore, and he recognizes that this should upset him and it doesnât. Or perhaps itâs something more along the lines of âitâs too late.â Whatever it is, I think this is the exact moment he knows he has to walk away. Because he knows heâll cave to the affection, he said it himself. (Which is another thing entirely. His voice changes when he says that. Something in him is reacting to that word. Maybe heâs fighting against it, or maybe heâs fighting to get it back. But something made him almost growl that word.)
Which leads me to my final thought (for this post anyway, cuz itâs turning into a novel); Viktor is still in there. He can still feel things, I just think theyâre extremely muted by whatever the Hexcore did/continues to do to him, or he has to fight to express them. Because he also smiled at the hallucination of Sky after he âcuredâ Huck. And if he feels nothing, he wouldnât have been âjoyousâ at the thought of her being proud of him, approving of the good things heâs trying to do in her memory. He wouldnât crave that validation, that vindication from her. So Iâm hopeful that we start to see this shell crack a little, especially if those visions of Sky are the Hexcore manipulating him through guilt. It will start to erode him, no matter how stoic he has become. And literally the only thing Iâm clinging to is that Jayce will see this and try to pull him out. âHeâs still in there and I have to save him.â And that maybe itâll start to work.
#arcane#arcane season 2#arcane season two#arcane s2 spoilers#jayvik#jayce talis#arcane viktor#viktor arcane#asks#ace answers
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would you be open to doing bf headcanons for hamzah? they could be sfw and nsfw or just sfw. love ur writing :). <3
BF Headcanons _âĄ
SFW
iâm a very opinionated person, so asking me about my hamzah headcanons is a FIELD DAY for me
Iâve always said this but I feel like hamzah (in the beginning of the relationship) is very shy? Not in the way of âignore any possible interaction between you and himâ but more of a âignores eye contact after a kissâ or âblushes when you call him a nickname for the first timeâ
He acts like he hates when you baby him but behind closed doors⊠BIGGEST BABY EVERRRR
It took him a while to hold your hand in public, not because he's embarrassed but again because he gets too flustered when you run your thumb up and down against the back of his hand,,, or when you play with his hands in general.
I MENTIONED THIS BEFORE IN FIC BUT HAMZAH IS AN EAR BLUSHER AND HE'S SO CUTE WAA
If you get on his lap and play with his hair while talking about random stuff, and you kiss him out of nowhere HEâLL SMILE THIS BIG SMILE AND COVER HIS EARS IM CRYINGGGGG HES SO CUTE
Speaking of kissing lololol
Hamzahâs kisses are SENSUAL, he takes his time and really makes sure you feel his love
Contrary to popular belief i feel like if youâre with hamzah for long enough his love language becomes physical touch
And i dont say that and mean ONLY kisses but hes such a cuddly person. HE NEEDS THAT TLC HES A BIG BOY
BUT. Big but! He is not the type of person to show affection publicly IM SORRYYY
Holding hands and hugging is fine but i think more intimate things heâd rather do in privateâŠ
Not because hes embarrassed as i said, he gets shy at other people perceiving that version of him especially since he isnât âactingâ or âjokingâ
Also he feels like only you deserve to see him like this hehehe
His love language is quality time. Like actually.
His head on your chest, playing stardew valley on his ipad. You watching TV or reading while playing with his curls.
Another form of this is that heâll ask you to be him and martins cameraman just to have you there with him
Or heâll ask if you want to try a new coffee shop that opened down the street
Heâs a man that likes to be around you 24/7
ALSO ALSO ALSO OMG OMG
HE WOULD SO FORCE YOU TO DO BACKGROUND VOCALS FOR SOME OF HIS MUSIC LIKE THE RAPPERS HE LIKES LMFAO
I dont wanna go on too long with this but one thing is for sure
Youâre his princess for REAL treats you like ROYALTY lol
If you guys get into an argument. Even if youâre wrong, he ends up apologizing
âI shouldnât have let it boil over to this anyway.â
10/10 boyfriend. Totally recommend.
NSFW
SISTA. I HAVE NEVER EVER THOUGHT IâD HAVE THE PLATFORM TO SHARE THESE THOUGHTS BUT I HAVE TO MAKE SURE YALL UNDERSTAND ONE THING!!!!
Hamzah is NAWT a boob or ass guy. HE LIKES BOTH EQUALLY. (He is secretly is ass-leaning tho LMFAO)
This is so funny but he totally is the type to smack your ass randomly when he walks by.
Do you get mad? Yes. Do you tell him to stop it? Yes. Does he stop? No. Do you secretly think it's kinda� WELL YESSS
TWO WORDS. Boob squeezer.
I think from what we can understand so far. is that Hamzah is the handsy man. HIS HANDS ALWAYS SOMEWHERE LOL
sex drive is for sure high. and when i say high⊠ITS HIGHHH
Contrary to popular belief AGAIN.
Hamzah doesnât partake in dirty talk much⊠not that he doesn't like itâhe just wouldnât in my opinion? It's not that he wouldnât talk at all, but he is more of a heavy breathing, whimpering, moaning guyâpretty much more noises than actual words
Though as i said, he would talk sometimes, especially if heâs feeling really good, or his stamina is lasting him longer than he thought⊠he starts getting a little cocky
On the topic of dirty talk, if he does talk, 99.9% of it would be praising, i don't see him enjoying degrading unless you ask him to.. but heâll be a little awkward about it LMFAOOO
Something like: âfuck, baby youâre taking me so good.â
(Unironically starts actually using good girl after a while of making it a joke btw)
Someone sent a request a few days ago and said âi feel like hamzah has a breeding kinkâ and why was i gagged?! NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT IT BUT YES, i feel like hes more into the thought filling u with *** then the thought of impregnating you if that makes any sense
Im talking too much⊠digital footprint go hard.
(A/N): this isnt proofread, i kinda braindumped but i had fun doing this!! Thank u anon for the request I HOPE U LOVE THIS CUTIE MWAAAAHH
#hamzahthefantastic#slushy noobz#hamzah fluff#hamzah x reader#hamzah x y/n#deerâs reqs!#hamzah smut#hamzah the fantastic
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FINE ill review it DAMN
Review of hellraiser heartbreaker
Playlist:
Murder on the Dancefloor - Sophie Ellis Bextor
Tommy Gun - Royal Republic
Do I Wanna Know - Arctic Monkeys
Tell Me The Truth - Two Feet
Undisclosed Desires - Muse
Jolene - Beyonce
I Wanna Be Yours - Foxy Shazam
Chapter 1.
Yoo lmao young wolvie is like "whats wrong with this guy?" And wades SOOO excited to be beat the shit out of.
"Let my babt boy go >:( you big meanies" ahh wade you silly thing.
Sokay baby boy dawww
Flirty kitty it is
Remeber kiddos introducing two wolverines in a very small area is NOT advised. Young wolvie is like a kitten, his hair going up and growling because hes scared and Logan growling to admit dominance and maturity over him. Jeez lousie.
"Ahahah behave" wade honey I bet logan loves when you defend his place in your life.
Chapter 2.
Oooh what a good start I love how hes sitting here staring at wade because he knows him and logan is NOT having it. He knows what young pups try to do, they try to steal your mate and hes not about to let that happen.
Pfft logan really said "ah hell nah id fuck anything back then im coming too"
THEY FUCKING VAN GOUGHED ME HAS TO BE ONE OF THE BEST LINES EVER
âThis is why youâre my favorite.â
Logan tried hard not to smirk at that. He failed.
That right there confirms that wade KNOWS logan is jealous already and is lowkey trying hard not to entice younger wolverine too much because he knows he's gonna kill him.
I should thank Wade then. I should thank him very thoroughly .â
Oh so youve chosen death little one?
"Gotcha you pointy little bitch!" Me at my splinters.
Aww man wade is being so careful with both of them, hes just less careful with you logan cause your younger has a collar on right now thats all.
Did you forget your wade is one of the top mercs there is? He never has NOT gotten a job done, which means handling wolvie with care you stupid old man.
Chapter 3.
Yo he already said no once. Leave it.
He finna kill you, you better start acting right.
âI said no.â There was no hint of playfulness or friendliness there. Just finality. It was enough to make Wolverine back down.
See? I told you. God you little degenerate. You need trained that no means no sheesh.
Yeah those hips are quick but they aint for you
Awwww logan got him rabbits like a good hound dog. Bro really said "man I need to impress my mate lemme go kill some innocent rabbits to eat"
Finding food and showing how reliable he could be to Wade.
âOh Logan,â that was a new tone from Wade. Affectionate. Directed at Logan. Not at him.
Yes exactly.
Wade brought me home
He sure as fuck did. He might as well collar you with his name on it too. Big strong boy. All jealous of a little inexperienced wolvie. Psshh lets be so for real.
âI don't see a ring, asshole.â
âDon't. Fucking. Touch. Him.â
ALEXA!! PLAY SINGLE LADIES FOR THE EPIC FIGHT THATS ABOUTA HAPPENA
Suddenly, the tip of a katana pushed against Loganâs cheek.
âWhat did I say about fighting?â Wade panted, his white eyes glaring. There was that seriousness in his voice again. Logan rolled his eyes at him. The katana pushed into Loganâs cheek until a trail of blood came out.
tHIS IS WHAT I KEEP SAYING!! wade does NOT fuck around when it comes to jobs! He was taught and trained to ALWAYS finish the job. Hes terrifying bro I would literally kill myself if I knew this man was after me because id be afraid hed play with me and not kill me fast enough.
Both of you need to settle your shit. I canât have you guys fucking my mission up
Exhibit B. Do NOT come between an adhd man and his dopamine and his dopamine is finishing missions and getting cash.
Ooh my poor baby though. Like seriously you need a shock collar and maybe neutered bc holy hell no is non existent to you but you just miss your own. Its a shame yours always dies. Its really not fair. But you cant just go stealing other peoples wades either. Hes limited edition baby. If him and his poolcule dont invite you you cant touchy.
Got inspired by PrettyPonyRideToHellâs fic Hellraiser, Heartbreaker
Never knew I needed Worst Wolvie having to deal with his little shit, younger self and with Wade ofc caught in the middle đâš
#deadpool and wolverine#poolverine#logan howlett#wade wilson#deadpool#deadpool 3#wolverine#deadclaws#fic review
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im on my knees begging for jealous Simon headcanons đ§đ»ââïž
The thing about Simon is, he really has no reason to get jealous when it comes to you, and he knows it
He knows there isnât anyone else who could make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, no one else who could make you laugh until you claim youâre going to pee your pants, no one else who could make you feel as good as he does, in oh so many ways, because you tell him so
You tell him that those same feelings of being loved, understood, appreciated, and wanted, those very feelings that you make him feel each and every day, he gives them back to you a thousand times over
He knows when you look in his eyes and tell him that you love him, that there isnât a doubt in your mind that he is the only one for you, and nothing or anyone could ever change that
Youâre as smitten with him as he is with you
Still though, Simon does have eyes
And while the logical part of his brain is telling him that heâs got no reason to be gritting his teeth and clenching his fists underneath the table, he canât help but grow more and more frustrated with the way Soap and Gaz continue to flirt shamelessly with you
To be fair, you had warned him that keeping your relationship a complete secret from everyone would likely result is moments where Simon would have to watch you get hit on, and simply have to grin and bear it
That didnât mean it was any easier, watching his only best mates try and work their charm on you, all while he sits at the same table and watches you roll your eyes at their advances
âAw, come on love, just one chance, sâall I ask for!â The handsome, young sergeant practically whines to you, cheeky grin plastered across his features as he tries in vain to convince you to let him take you out some time
âPfft, yeâd be nothinâ but a waste oâ her time, Garrick. We wouldnât even âave to to leave base for me to show ye a good time, bonnie.â The Scotsman winks at you, pointedly ignoring the way Gaz elbows him in the ribs at his comment
Throughout the entire exchange, Ghostâs gaze has never left your face, watching every time you scoff and roll your eyes at the menâs antics, reminding himself that youâre his, and he is yours, and the two sergeants are nothing more than pains in both of your asses
Finished with your pitiful meal from the dining hall, you stand from the table with your tray gathered in your hands, flipping your hair over one shoulder as you look towards the men trying to win your affection
âOnce again, gentleman,â you say to them, knowing that theyâre listening to your every word and watching your every move. âI donât fraternize with colleagues. At least not the Sergeants.â
The two men groan in feeble protest at the mention of their ranks, having heard this reasoning from you before
âAch, what if I get myself demoted, lass? I ken I could do that, easy!â Soap teases you, only kind of joking
âMmm, donât think thatâll work.â You reply, beginning to slowly walk away from the group, but not before glancing over you shoulder to lock eyes with Ghost and add, âYou might have to become a Lieutenant. Those are more my type.â
The two Sergeants are staring after you, slightly gobsmacked, while their Lieutenant hides an overly smug and satisfied grin beneath his mask, shielding the pride that spread through him at your words
âShite, sounds like you might âave a chance, LT.â Soap laughs, smacking Ghost across the shoulder in a playful gesture, thinking that the larger man would never actually pursue you, let alone sleep in your bed almost every night
Itâs a few weeks later when you and the rest of the 141 are all out for drinks at a nearby pub however, when Simon finds his instincts growing stronger than his insecurities
Because thatâs just it isnât it? Heâs not feeling insecure when he sees you walk towards the bar by yourself to order a new drink, at least a dozen pairs of eyes watching you weave through the crowd in hopes of making a move on you
Heâs not feeling insecure when he watches some tipsy idiot try and pretend heâs drunker than he really he is when he âaccidentallyâ bumps into you, apparently feeling the need to put his hands on you as he apologizes
Heâs not feeling insecure when he watches you shove the guy off, reading your lips he knows so well as you tell the guy youâre not interested, nor is he insecure when he knows the idiot wonât give up that easily, likely asking if youâre here alone before you point over to where the 141 have overtaken a booth in the back
No, he certainly isnât feeling insecure when he sees that the man never bothers glancing back to the table, still trying to land a hand on your body somewhere, when Simonâs instincts take over, rising from his seat without a word to the men who glance his way and ask where heâs going suddenly
Heâs acting on pure instinct as he stalks over to you, the crowd parting for his large frame to move by without hesitation, locking eyes with you just as he lands a massive skull gloved hand on the tosserâs shoulder, wringing him around to face him
Your would be admirer isnât feeling so confident now when heâs staring up at a 6â4â wall of muscle donned in all black apart from the white markings of his skull balaclava
If he were a more jealous man, Simon might take more time to admire the way you can practically hear this idiot gulp over the loud sounds of the music, the way his eyes bulge out of his head and how he looks nearly ready to piss himself on the spot
But your man knows who he is to you, and so instead he shoves the geezer away, turning to face you as one hand lifts up the bottom of his balaclava, just far enough to swoop down and meet your lips in a passionate tangle of tongue and teeth, tasting the alcohol on each otherâs breath and the desire in your systems, a kiss that says to everyone else watching, including the bewildered Captain and Sergeants gawking from across the room, that you are his and his alone
#this kind of turned into the opposite of jealous Simon didnât it#sorry anon I promise Iâll do a proper jealous Simon soon#just wanted to post something short and sweet tonight#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x reader#cod simon ghost riley#cod simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#call of duty fanfic#call of duty#call of duty fic#simon ghost riley#simon riley#cod fanfic#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x you#call of duty ghost#simon fluff#readwritealldayallnight#asks#anon ask
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Because I'm in a sharing mood and have some extra time:
I've put this in a few other places, so if you see it floating around elsewhere it's me. As far as I know, I'm the only one with this headcanon.
After the Job debacle, Jemima keeps trying to summon Crawley. Not intentionally, and not by way of hellish ritual or anything. She just keeps praying to God for "that funny demon" to come back and play with her.
Crawley can feel it. At first he laughs it off, but after a while it gets annoying. So one day he goes back to Job's place to tell Jemima to stop doing that to tell her that she can't be doing that. He means to tell her off, really. But she ends up showing him all of her new pottery projects. By the time she eventually ends up plaiting his hair he makes up his mind to tell her...
When Sitis comes in, wondering who Jemima is talking to. She sees Crawley, recognizes him.
"Ah Bildad the Shuhite, how lovely to see you again. You're staying for dinner of course." Then she leaves, presumably to get dinner going. Crawley is left speechless, mouth open, no words, not given a choice.
At the dinner table, he feels out of place. Ennon and Kesiah keep looking at him funny, and once or twice they try to ask questions, but Sitis shushes them. After they eat, Crawley is given an open invitation to join them again next week. He says no.
Sitis sets him a place anyway.
He shows up.
Each dinner he's given another invitation. Each time he declines. Each time Sitis sets him a place anyway. Each time he shows up anyway. It's almost like she's known his type before. The type who are prickly on the outside, but sweet on the inside and just wanting someone who is willing to hold them regardless of the thorns. The only other person ever to do that has been Aziraphale, and Someone Knows where he is these days.
Next thing he knows, Crawley has actually become Bildad the Shuhite: Family Friend. He is around regularly, and even Ennon and Kesiah don't mind him so much, although they still roll their eyes at him whenever they think they can get away with it.
He tells Jemima his real name ONCE. While the two of them are alone, playing Tea Party with her dolls.
She mishears "Crawley" as "Crowley."
He keeps it.
#good omens#crowley#crawley#bildad the shuhite#bildad my beloved#good omens bildad#jemima#she made this pot#and this one and this one and this one#headcanon#good omens headcanon#good omens fandom#ineffable fandom#good omens 2#gomens#good omens crowley
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the music is punk because it challenges the norm. the clothing is punk because it challenges the norm. the politics are punk because they challenge the norm. it's not a sound, or a look, or a book, or a slogan. it's a way of thinking that puts radical acceptance and relentless pursuit of joy, face to face with a world that wants you dead. you can't put a price on it. the disabled woman that says "fuck it people know I can't hold my blatter anyway. I don't care if they can tell I'm wearing the rehab-provided brief. Get me my bright lipstick I'm going to bingo!" is flexing the same muscles as the suburban white boy who steals eyeliner from his conservative mother. they are both people using identity, to create joy and signal comradery in lonely times, reputation be damned.
not to mention, all of the clothes I have been able to afford new when I was in my poorest moments were shit quality anyway. anything you can do to extend the lifespan of a physical object that was made under the modern fast fashion system past "thrown out, unsold at the store" is a win. in the same way that any pressure you can keep against an actively bleeding wound is a win. cloths are a common class of tools we use to help regulate our comfort, with that is with the temperature or our cave-mates. if the clothes make you feel uncomfortable they are already useless. it is already trash. why not try anything to see if it works? there are intelligent capable people across the centuries who died dreaming of what to do with once gorgeous expensive trendy fabric, that will now look dated and trashy outside of "the spring of '32 when i fell in love with jazz." or whatever the kids are into these days. the stupid walmart blazer you took a chance on 2 years ago but now feel "too X to wear" is no different. either you trash it now, or live with that trash in your home until your kids do it for you, while crying about how they always thought you looked good in that color. you might as well see if there's enough fabric to re-make that halter top you loved in college. when it looks homemade you get to boast and explain all about how you're trying to make shit better in little ways. and who cares if it fails? Aren't you deserving of a little petty violence? when the last time you really didn't give a shit about seam Ripping and just went to town? don't you want to be able to yell at something with no moral consequences? so much in this world is complicated and nuanced and requires forethought and responsibility. Wouldn't it feel nice to have a hobby that lets you get reasonably angry at evil fabric for not doing the thing, and then you can just throw it and swear, and then never have to think about it again. because it doesn't matter. it was already cheep plastic made to feed a system that would rather watch the world burn than lose a shareholder. you eat credit cards a year. you can not hurt wasted disposable plastic more than it will hurt you.
and then if it works you have a cute top to wear around places to show you are the kind of person who has cool tops! and help you ease people into the idea that a political movements starts with people deciding what things they inherited they actually want to keep around. and then maybe one day you cut apart and re-make out of nice quality fabric, with the mistakes you learned from the first one. so you can weaponize your ability to present yourself as ""respectable"" when you have to play the politics game in big official ways.
or (imagine this) you can even use your new knowledge of what types of edits you often make to clothing to buy a quality garment that will be more worth investing in. Ones that are made in ways that add value to their communities will feel good on your body from day one, and you can be mened and adapt in ways that may let it outlive you.
or maybe you elevate that shity, guilt ridden- shirt out of the gym lost and found on the last day of freshman year, because "fuck it- I liked that middle-school library fit. and Its a size too small but I'm bound to get thinner eventually. and I don't think its actually stealing if no one else wants it." Maybe if you make it into a statement piece scrap in your favorite "look I'm not happy about it either!" outfit, to show that you want to fuck with the systems in a "hey we should still have A Library tho right?" sort of way. you might run into the middle school girl who gets to break the ice with a fellow "cool garment person" friend. and she gets to laugh about your shirt deadnaming her. and you get to apologize and offer to let her sign something over it. and now you are advertising the formative art of a local queer-punk-artisan who you know is also out there trying her best to make the shitty stuff a little less shitty when they can, even if it means learning how to thread a sewing machine.... eventually.... hopefully.
also, as a person who has spent about a decade trying to figure out ways to keep kids of all ages informed and prepared and enriched on a budget. "Tug of War turned tie-dye Party" would of been a smash hit, my queer and rural in the 90's type parents would have loved it. after growing up with Halloweens filled with pieced-together costumes that made room for sensory issues and accessibility aids. and family "vacations" taken on public land with what's left of the food stamps. i think there is definitely a market for how to teach your children the fundamentals of serving in a world that might find their misery profitable. without like... terrafing them.
imagine how much easier alot of it would have been if someone early in your life had sat you down and said "ok. a lot of times things are going to be bad and unfair and evil. and there's going to be complicated reasons you cant do much about it but feel bad. but if you feel bad all the time it will only get worse. so what you can do is take what is around you, figure out what it is and how it works and why it's there, and then break it in ways that are meaningful and delibrite. and re-shape it to help the actual people who are trying survive."
then they showed you and all of your little friends how to research, what fabric is and understand why you bought supplies, and then get their hands dirty testing how strong it is, and why jeans have rivets even when you want to sew right there. and re-asure them that it's ok you paved the way to make sure they can't hurt anything too bad even if they are really really bad at it. and then let them find joy and pride in making something unique and custom with their own tools for the cost of cleaning out a closet, and some rite dye.
and then the community has a couple new little baby punks making decent folks smile with little bold fashion statements, and turning heads when they experiment with which parts of society they want to bring into the new age. tl;dr: I think we need to start telling the âIâm too poor to dress punkâ crowd that theyâre posers. -polyamorouspunk, November 2024, tumbr.com
I think we need to start telling the âIâm too poor to dress punkâ crowd that theyâre posers.
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I've made a post about great lesser-known noirs, but it occurs to me that some of you might not be familiar with the classics, and might want to know where to start. This is a ridiculously short list- I have a million more to talk about- but here are some of the big stars of the genre.
The Maltese Falcon: Sam Spade, a clever but callous private detective, gets wrapped up in intrigue relating to an artifact that is functionally cursed. If he's an unscrupulous character, just wait until you meet everyone else. The whole damn cast is electrifying, lending charm and cruelty in equal measure.
The Big Sleep: Philip Marlowe, a kinder and more poetic detective for Humphrey Bogart to play than Spade, is called upon to deal with a wealthy, dysfunctional family, and it keeps on getting weirder from there. Is the sharp-tongued Vivian Sternwood the femme fatale she seems, or is she just another person trying to find the right thing to do in desperate circumstances? And will she and Marlowe keep their hands off each other until the plot has had its last twist?
Double Indemnity: Rich housewife Phyllis Dietrichson and sleazy insurance agent Walter Neff are, by their own admission, rotten people. It's only natural that they should plot a murder together, and that they should turn on each other the very second things go wrong. Every single domestic murder movie since 1944 has ripped this off.
Kiss Me Deadly: This is nominally an adaptation of a Mike Hammer story. Screenwriter Bezzerides hated Mike Hammer. As depicted here, he is one of the worst people in the world. Depending on the cut of the film you see, he may inadvertently cause the nuclear apocalypse. (For once, the theatrical cut is darker.)
Sweet Smell of Success: Cruel, all-powerful columnist JJ Hunsecker wants his sister's boyfriend out of the way (for reasons that are, um, ambiguous.) To accomplish this, he enlists the biggest weasel in New York, Sidney Falco, and the two completely deserve each other as they spend the rest of the movie trading elaborate insults. Popular on tumblr for its dialogue and chemistry between the leads.
Sunset Boulevard: Broke screenwriter Joe Gillis thinks he can con a has-been into hiring him as a script doctor, and that's the last free decision he ever gets to make. From then on, his life is in the hands of Norma Desmond, silent film starlet turned crazed recluse, terrifying yet intensely pitiable. This is as much gothic horror as noir.
Ace in the Hole: The story of a man trapped in a cave is turning out to be a big hit in the newspaper, and if the publicity will make a reporter's career, then what's the harm in delaying rescue just for a little while? This is as vicious as noir gets, but damn it, you've just got to see what happens next. (Watch Jacob Geller's video Fear of the Depths after this.)
Sorry Wrong Number: Of all the films on this list, this is the one that really scared me. In the days of switchboards, a rich hypocondriac woman is connected to the wrong phone line and overhears a murder being planned. It doesn't take her long to figure out she's the intended victim, and each call she makes or recieves makes the situation darker. But how can she escape her fate if she can't- or won't leave her bed?
The Asphalt Jungle: The heist movie. Maybe the only heist movie ever made. Every line is quotable. Every member of the team is an unforgettable personality. When things go wrong, they go horribly wrong. One minute you're laughing, and the next minute you think you'll never laugh again.
Gun Crazy: Laurie and Bart, two practiced sharpshooters, are perhaps the most perfect match in all of noir- and that's a bad thing. When one half of the duo gets a criminal idea in their head, the other can't say no. When the opportunity to ditch her man like a sap comes up, the femme fatale throws it away to be doomed at his side. He fell in love with her when she first aimed a gun at him. Quentin Tarantino kissed star Peggy Cummins's feet at a showing of the film, and I hope she kicked him in the head.
Laura: Everyone was in love with Laura Hunt, and somebody killed her- or did they? Did they get the right person? Is the cop on the case in love with a dead woman? Was her columnist mentor just her gay best friend, or was there something darker beneath that facade? And what would Laura think of all this? A big inspiration on Twin Peaks.
In a Lonely Place: Bogart isn't at all heroic here, as a screenwriter with a drinking habit and a violent temper. He's obviously a bad idea to date, but just how bad an idea? He's not the type of guy who'd kill a woman, is he? Bogart and Gloria Holden give perhaps their best performances here, and they'll wound your soul.
Touch of Evil: A Mexican cop (played, unfortunately, by Charlton Heston) finds out a nasty secret about the big hero cop Hank Quinlan: he's framed the culprit in most of his cases. Not because he's crooked, but because his intuition tells him they're guilty. Director Orson Welles as Quinlan is frightening, grotesque, and a little bit tragic in what some consider the last classic noir.
The Killers: The first twenty minutes or so are an adaptation of a Hemingway story, where out of town hitmen gun down a man so depressed he won't even bother to run from them. The rest of the film is an investigation into how he got that way. It had something to do with a radiant gangster's girl, and something to do with a few botched crimes. Sometimes a man can die before the bullets even touch him.
The Third Man: Everybody is lying about the whereabouts of an American expatriate named Harry when his friend comes looking. Did they do something to him? Or, more frightening still, is he the one who's been doing things to other people? Orson Welles is a more charming monster than he was in Touch of Evil; the light and shadows on his face cast him as a vampire, while his fingers sticking up through the sewer grate look like something terrifying emerging from the earth.
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p2: three reasons why you can't stand co-star!james potter
co-star!james potter x actress!reader
summary: you were finding the first days of shooting your new TV show to be absolutely amazing, aside from the fact that you absolutely could not stand your co-star James Potter. unfortunately for you, you spent enough time around him to narrow down his most irritating qualities to only three:
a/n: hey so this took waayyy longer than i would've hoped to release, but i promise this series is not going anywhere, so tysm for all the loveee and all ur guys' patience <33
also pls pls pls feel free to send in prompt requests for this series i am so all ears
full series: Trouble in Hollywood - masterlist
1. He was insufferably good at his job
You wished you could say working with James Potter was such a challenge because he was simply bad at his job. But the thing was: he wasn't. It turned out he was really the impeccably good actor that your director Minerva seemed to swear he was, as if the talent truly was seeping through his veins. Somehow, that only made working with him more frustrating to you.
"Aaron, you've got to believe me."
James had come to you during the middle of hair and makeup and asked you to rehearse lines with him even before official rehearsals for the day's shooting began, saying it would make him feel more prepared. And, as much as you hated it, you felt the same. Your only regret was thinking you'd be able to stand him and his arrogance before seven in the morning.
"Why should I, Cassidy?"
The brunette responded to you fully in character, leaning back against a nearby vanity with his long legs crossed in front of him as you sat in your cushioned chair. He apparently got out of hair and makeup in under a matter of minutes, looking effortlessly put together with his curls hanging perfectly over his foreheadâyou didn't have the same luck. Your lovely makeup artist Mary seemed to be unbothered by the interruptions, continuing on with your makeup as you rehearsed your lines, though you caught her amused smile every once in a while from her reflection in the mirror.
"Because..." you began, trying to stay in character as your brain scrambled for your next line.
"You're supposed to say," cut in James, "'-because we can only trust each other right now.'"
"Please stop telling me my lines, James." You repeated the irritated request you'd uttered all morning to him as you put a tired hand to the bridge of your nose, one that Mary moved away hurriedly.
"Watch your makeup," she pleaded with a powder-filled brush to your nose , and you winced apologetically.
"Did you just want me to stand here and wait for you to remember them?" James's voice poked at you irritatingly as you stared up at him from your seat.
"Yes, that's exactly what I want." You fought from rolling your eyes. "You could at least give me a second. I didn't even ask for my line."
He raised his brows with an acquiescent sigh. "Whatever the lady wants."
Ignoring him, a skill you were growing like a muscle, you cleared your throat in focus, trying not to move too much as Mary blended some product on your neck. "Because we can only trust each other right now."
James quickly jumped back into character, right on time. "That didn't mean anything to you the other night."
"I already told you I'm sorry for that. When I heard all the rumors, I ..." you cursed at yourself as your mind drew another painful, embarrassing blank.
"-I didn't know what to think." James looked anything but guilty as his voice met your ears once again, finishing your line for you without fail.
"James!" You glared at him, doing your best to stay out in your chair and not storm out of the trailer he'd so brazenly infiltrated. You shook your head to yourself through your reflection in the brightly lit mirrors . "You're impossible."
James shrugged innocently. "I don't get why you're mad at me for trying to help."
"I'm not."
He scoffed, putting a dramatic hand to his chest. "So is this what you look like when you're happy with me?" The corner of his aggravating lips lifted along with his shoulder in a small shrug, before turning away again. "Isn't very much like how I've pictured it."
You didn't miss the way Mary let out a small breath of laughter from her nose as she switched over to doting on your hair. You gritted your teeth.
"IÂ mean, I'm not mad at you for helping. I'm mad at you because you're annoying."
He crossed his arms defensively, his lips still quirked up, and you fought against the urge within you that had your eyes following the movement of his biceps. "I'm annoying?"
The feigned disbelief in his voice snapped your back to your right mind.
"Yes," you answered plainly. "You and your posh accent."
Maybe you'd stopped making sense, but it was too early for you to care. James was watching your meltdown with what you could only identify as merriment, his unfortunately unignorable presence taking up too much space in the cramped makeup trailer.
Thankfully choosing to ignore the part about his accent, he put up his hands innocently. "Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who keeps forgetting their lines."
"We just got the updated script for this episode last night." You shifted in your chair to face him, and you heard Mary wince from behind you, probably getting fed up with how much you were moving around, though you were too annoyed to stop yourself. "How the hell are you already off-book?"
James shrugged smugly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned forward. You squinted your eyes at him. "An actor never reveals his secrets, love."
You twisted your mouth in disgust at his wordsâbecause you definitely felt something as he said them, whether it was disgust or not you didn't want to think aboutâand probably only made him more satisfied. "Mary," you groaned, looking at her through the mirror in front of you. "I think I'm going to be sick."
She shook her head and gave your reflection a sharp look back. "Not in that freshly ironed shirt you're not."
You sighed, settling back into your chair and sparing another glance at the man to your right. He tipped his head at you, almost tauntingly, and you felt your jaw tighten. It was going to be a long day.
2. Everyone else seemed to love him
You'd been going about your Thursday innocently, filming scenes when called uponâfinally having memorized all your lines properlyâand somehow getting through the morning without any irritating interactions with your least favorite person on set at the moment. That good feeling, of course, could only last so long.
"What's this?"
Minerva, your director, had been walking around set with you until you both stopped at the sight of a crowd forming outside one of the sets. You followed her, making your way through the crowd of your fellow actors and crew members until you were met with a nauseating sight: James Potter.
At the sight of your director, his already proud smile grew to a beaming one, almost blinding, as he greeted her. "We've all been really busy with this week's filming schedule, Minnie, and you mentioned what a hassle it's been ordering enough food for everyone every day with our budget, so I pulled some strings and got my family's chef to cater our lunch."
Your jaw slacked as he nodded his head to his left, where a number of tables were set up with what looked like pizza ingredients, a moustached-man in a chef hat standing behind the scene proudly. You couldn't believe your eyes. Apparently, neither could the woman next to you.
"Oh my- James this is ... amazing!" Minervaâor Minnie, as James somehow had grown accustomed to calling herâturned to your co-star, expression as bright and beaming as James's crowd-pleasing smile was. "But you shouldn't have gone to all this trouble-"
"It was no trouble at all. Francis was more than happy to help."
He waved a hand at the chef, who you assumed was the 'Francis' in question, who nodded back at him happily with a pizza cutter in his hand. It was like something out of a movie, the way everyone clapped for James who stood at the front of the crowd like the beloved man he was. You felt sick to your stomach.
"What's wrong? Do you not like the pizza?"
You'd taken your lunch shamefully, making sure to hide your amazement at the endless selection of pizza toppings that James had arranged at the build-your-own-pizza station, and were sitting with Remus, who you'd met at auditions for the show and luckily got casted in a role other than one that'd gone to James, and Sirius, another one of your co-stars who you'd quickly become friends with since you spent practically all your time on set nowadays.
You looked up at Remus briefly before returning your gaze to the pizza in front of you, the perfect slice underneath the sun seeming to taunt you. "No," you grumbled. "The pizza's amazing."
Sirius chuckled. "You'd think you'd be happy about that."
"I would, aside from the fact that it was Potter who brought it in."
The black-haired man tipped his head at you curiously. "What's your problem with James again?"
You shook your head forebodingly. "Don't tell me he's brainwashed you both with his hundred-dollar pizza too."
"I doubt the pizza's that much money." Remus bit into the slice in his hand, talking through the bite. "But it is pretty delicious."
"It is," Sirius nodded. "It was pretty nice of him to cover lunch for the day. If anything, you'd think you'd like him more for this."
You groaned. "He brought in his family's private chef, for God's sake. It's not like he rescued a cat from a tree or something."
Sirius and Remus shared a look as you spoke. You knew you sounded ridiculous, but you currently lacked enough dignity to care as yet another slice of pizza sat on your plate, ready to be eaten.
"James is actually a really nice lad," reasoned Sirius. "Take it from us. We kind of grew up with him."
That fact had yet to escape you as soon as you'd met the two of them. According to the stories they'd relayed to you, Remus's mum had been an on-set tutor to James growing up when he was acting in some movie, while Sirius's parents had been producers for some of James's parents' films. Safe to say, the three of them certainly left you feeling inexperienced in the world of acting.
"James should be the least of your worries," urged Remus. "He's harmless."
"If he's so harmless, then why has he gone out of his way to be a pain in my ass since I met him?"
Sirius snorted. "We said he's harmless, not that he's not an idiot sometimes."
"But," Remus added, "whatever James has done, just know that it always comes from a good place. The man doesn't have a mean bone in his body."
You sighed inwardly. The James Potter you knew seemed to be very different from the one that everyone else seemed to be familiar with, and it was driving you crazy.
3. He was an obnoxious flirt
When you said 'flirt', you not only meant that he flirted with youâunfortunatelyâbut that he seemed to flirt with anyone in sight, whether he realized it or not. In fact, you'd been forced to watch as he smooth-talked one of the hairstylists on set for the past ten minutes.
You couldn't hear everything they were saying, thank god, but you were sure she was probably more charmed by the fact that his last name was Potter than anything he could remotely come up with to win her over. You'd had enough conversations with him to know that the movie-star smiles he offered were enough to charm people before they realized just how insufferable he was.
After what felt like hours, he said something to the woman in parting and left her looking flushed and smiley as he strolled away. You sighed, happy to finally be rid of distractions, and looked back down at the script on your lap that you were trying to memorize but stopped almost immediately as you felt an unwelcome presence lingering from in front of you. You looked up and fought a groan.
James tipped his head at you innocently. "You wanted me?"
You tensed at his phrasing and did your best to go back to ignoring him as you focused back on your script. "I did not."
Not taking the hint, as usual, he stayed put, shoving his hands in his well-tailored pockets. "Well, you've been staring at me for the past ten minutes, so I just assumed you had something to say."
"Well, you assumed wrong." You gave him a tight-lipped smile from where you sat. "And I wasn't staring. I just miraculously found it hard to concentrate on memorizing lines when you were harassing that hairstylist right next to me."
He squinted at you quizzically before shaking his head, finding your banter more amusing than you probably were. "Admit it. You're obsessed with me."
You scoffed, blinking rapidly to truly portray your disbelief. "You wish. Reality is, PotterâI think I hate you."
James peered at you with a glint in his eye like he'd never heard anything more amusing, leaning back against the wall next to you. "You think?"
You shrugged tightly. "The jury hasn't come to a decision just yet." You thought back to the unfortunately delicious pizza he'd provided, and all the things that Remus and Sirius had said to you that stood in stark contrast to practically every other experience you'd had with him.
James grinned, finding teasing you the most entertaining part of his day, even on set for a TV show. "So I still have a chance?"
His eyes glistened and you reeled. "A chance to what? Did you not hear the 'hate' part?"
"Hate is a strong word, don't you think?"
You shook your head. "Strong, but appropriate."
"Ouch." He touched his hand to his chest in that dramatic way he always did, something you blamed on his actor roots. "Your words hurt, you know." You rolled your eyes, truly trying then to get back to memorizing your lines so James would have nothing over you during filming the next day, but he didn't seem to care. "Look, I get it. You said you hate me. But really, I don't think you do."
You sighed, setting your script aside as you looked up at him with finality. "And why is that, Potter?"
"Because," James began, and you didn't like the tease in his tone as he looked down at you. "A little birdie told me you had some say in whether or not they cast me in South Bay. And that you actually encouraged it."
Your lips parted, those words being the last ones you expected him to say after weeks had gone by since the chemistry read. You didn't know who'd ratted you out, but whoever did would be getting a stern talking to. Or a partially stern one, since they were more than likely your boss.
You shrugged weakly at him. "That ... that doesn't mean anything."
James's thick brow lifted effortlessly. "So you're not denying it?"
At his challenging look, you relented with a drop of your shoulders. "I'm not. It's true; I told Minerva I think they should choose you to play Aaron becuase you are good at your job, James. As much as it annoys me. I mean, you're clearly a great actor, you get all your lines memorized overnight, not to mention the entire crew is in love with you for some reason-"
"Oh, I see."
You paused, looking at the way James's slight grin turned into a shit-eating one. "What?"
He tipped his head at you tauntingly. "You're jealous."
You let out a laugh harsher than you meant it to be. "Please. There's nothing about you I could possibly waste my energy being jealous over."
The brunette tutted, and you hated the feeling it sent through you. "For such a great actress, you're not a very good liar."
You felt your breathing shallow for a moment, not knowing what to do with the compliment that flowed so easily from his lips like he hadn't given it a second thought. You pushed the thought aside, focusing on the insult part of his statement instead, and rolled your eyes.
"Look," James continued at your expression. "Jealous or not, we're going to have to work together on this show for God knows how many more months. Years even, if it gets renewed for a second season." The thought both filled you with excitement and dread as it came from James's lips. He looked down at you with an honest curiosity. "How much longer can you go on pretending to hate me?"
You noted that what he was saying was true, letting the words sit in your chest for a moment, but you also noted that you had more fun being petty. You tilted your chin up at him. "Funny that you think I'm pretending."
James put a hand on the table you were sitting at, leaning forward slightly and making you freeze up. "Funny that you're still not a good liar, love."
Your throat felt tight with something you wanted to again dismiss as disgust at both his proximity and the delicate word that fell from his lips. You let an unpleasant pinch form between your brows. "I thought I told you not to call me that."
James felt something warm, almost giddy, form in his chest, and it didn't matter that you looked like you were considering slapping him right then. He let the corner of his lips quirk up. "You're adorable when you're mad."
"Don't call me that either." You huffed, picking up your still un-memorized script and standing. "I'm going to my trailer."
James quirked a brow, following you with only his eyes. "Is that an invitation?"
You rolled your eyes, walking away and calling over your shoulder. "Absolutely not."
taglist:
@ilovejamespottersomuch @empath-bunny @santaasi @veysxrge @bitterspoons @ladyhestiaa @rorybear14
#trouble in hollywood#james potter imagine#james potter x reader#everythingisromant1c#james potter#the marauders#harry potter#james potter fluff#aaron taylor johnson#hollywood au#hollywood#marauders au#the maruaders#the marauders era#hp marauders#marauders era#marauders#james potter fic#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#enemies to lovers#rivals to lovers#mauraders#celebrity#celebrity au#famous rp#fame rp#acting#actor#hollywood rp
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More thoughts:
I linked a post below that has me thinking about Tommy's actions & Eddie's place in the narrative. In retrospect, I 100% believe Tommy knows and understands that Eddie is likely going to be Buck's last. (as much as anybody can know this sort of thing.) I know Tim and Oliver said Eddie had nothing to do with the obstacles in Buck's relationship, but I think that was a partial truth on their part. Technically, Buck does spiral because of Abby and #stagefoureddiediaz has talked about the way Buck is still stuck on the hamster wheel. I think both of these things are part of the obstacles mentioned in one of Oliver's interviews. However, if you look only at those things, you overlook the Pink Eddie in the room. While I agree that Eddie didn't interfere or try to stop Buck & Tommy from being together, his friendship with Buck has remained a constant. (see the link at the very bottom for more about Eddie in the narrative.) If you check out Buddielifer's post, several good points demonstrate the breakup was about Eddie. I'll try to avoid repeating what was said there as I explain. My opinion does differ on a few small points, but I'll get to that later.
Ok. I'm going to talk about Tommy a little but stick with me. This is a Buddie post. I promise, and I do have a point. I do believe Buck was attracted to Tommy, not because he had some great destiny to be the love of Buck's life, but because he did a few really cool things while helping to save Bobby & Athena's lives. Plus, Tommy did it in the coolest way possible. Helicopter pilots are cool, or they would be if they weren't dating one-half of your favorite ship. lol. Before the kiss, Buck wasn't self-aware enough to fully engage with his sexuality, I suspect that he handled his attraction to Tommy the way he handled it with other men before we knew him as a firefighter.
As we saw in a flashback, when Buck met a man he felt attracted to, he processed those feelings by befriending him. It was the same with Tommy. That is why he was at the hangar that day. When he offered to buy Tommy a beer, I truly think Buck thought he was making a new friend. If you think about it, you can see this was a pattern for Buck. He did have a meltdown over Eddie when they first met (but with Eddie, bigger things were and are still in play) It doesn't change the fact that once Buck got past his initial jealousy or whatever that was, he threw himself all in with Eddie. It was part of his pattern and part of #stagefour's hamster wheel. (Endgame will have Buck get off the wheel and look around. The person standing there was never part of the wheel, but the person waiting for him to stop and get off of it.)
The situation with Tommy is probably closer to how Buck reacted to his friend who wanted Buck as a sperm donor. Buck actually followed that 'friend' to Peru. I have a post from a while back where I discuss Buck sending mixed signals. In his mind, he is making a friend, but he is also unconsciously flirting. Tommy was the first to push through and just kiss Buck. I don't think this was nefarious so much as an attempt to interpret the signals Buck was sending. (I'm sure many see Tommy as having bad intentions but stick with me. I'm trying to put him into the context where Tim claimed he wanted him to be seen. Tommy was supposed to be a mentor or a more experienced man helping Buck navigate this side of himself.) As a teacher, Tommy did help him navigate, but he also let Buck set the pace. Although never shown, we know Buck is a very sexual being, and the deleted scene with Tommy, Hen, and Karen confirmed that Tommy was just trying to keep up with him.
But I digress. Buck's intention to befriend Tommy ended the exact moment that Eddie showed up at the hangar with a huge smile on his face. Stoic Eddie who does not show his emotions was smiling hugely. Even though this is from Buck's perspective and he is an unreliable narrator, it is plausible to me that Eddie would be excited to go to a live fight in Vegas. Oliver and Tim have talked a lot over the past few weeks about how Buck spirals. When Eddie left with Tommy, Buck began to spiral in a way that we have never seen before or since. He was absolutely unhinged with jealousy. There is no way that Buck, who didn't even ask about Tommy's dating history until six months into the relationship, was that insane to get the attention of a man he has known for a few days or weeks. Now that we are pulling in new material from the current season, it isn't even remotely believable that Buck's reaction was about Tommy.
If Buck had experienced some sort of love-at-first-sight moment with Tommy, then he would have asked Tommy about his past at the beginning of the relationship. In fact, people entering into something serious generally ask about past partners in the first few weeks of getting to know each other or before sex. The fact that Buck didn't, is a change in pattern for him. Buck typically throws himself all in and then when things go wrong, he doesn't know how he got there. (Also part of the hamster wheel.) However, I attribute the difference this time to the fact that, subconsciously, Buck knows what he's feeling. He can use his body. (borderline sex addict). However, he can't bring himself to share with Tommy what he already shares with Eddie, but you know our unaware cowboy can't see it yet.
At the hangar, Tommy didn't have a feel for Buck yet. However, by the end of the Vegas trip, I think he had picked up a good idea from Eddie that there was something there. (not because Eddie has made some sort of confession, but because I'm confident that Eddie talked about Buck nonstop. I'm hoping that we get some sort of confirmation of this in the current season. I don't want it to be forgotten.) At any rate, whatever conclusions Tommy drew from his time in Vegas with Eddie and the time they spent hanging out afterward didn't bother him enough to refuse to date Buck. I do think Tommy was longing for the family and support he could see Buck has with the 118, but I don't think he was ever planning a wedding in his head. In fact, I know he wasn't. That's part of why he broke up with Buck.
Sidenote: (Thanks to StageFourEddieDiaz, for pointing out how Buck failed to understand the mission from Josh's speech because this is what caused Buck to shift from not letting Tommy get too close to asking Tommy to move in with him.) Until the conversation with Josh, Buck was actively shutting Tommy out of anything other than sex and possibly learning the ins and outs of the LGBTQ community.
Again, in the beginning, this didn't bother Tommy. He knew what Buck needed, and as he stated a few times during the sixth episode, Buck was hot and fun. If you need examples of Buck shutting Tommy out, I point you to anything that happened in the Halloween episode. I'm not saying Buck didn't care about Tommy at all, but he was holding back. The look on Buck's face as Josh asked about his feelings really said it all. I think this is probably why Josh was a little shy of the mark when giving his speech about comphet. Josh had to give a long list of, "Do you feel "this or that" for your boyfriend of six months," before he finally hit on something that Buck did feel. I don't want to get off topic or repeat too much from the linked post, I just wanted to illustrate that the jealousy from Buck's coming out episode was 100% for Eddie and that it was something that Tommy realized before entering the relationship.
I know there will be some disagreement here, but I also feel like Tommy's feelings for Buck actually were on the verge of changing, and he hadn't expected that. When they were standing at the grave, Buck gave his eulogy directed to Billy Boils. Tommy's face went through a series of changes. First, he seemed annoyed or concerned. I couldn't quite tell, but the more Buck talked, the more you could see of our Buck. The guy with a huge heart who can empathize with the skeletal remains of a criminal. I'll link the clip for you to judge. What Buck had to say to Billy was more open and revealed more about Buck's character than anything he had been saying to Tommy over the past six months. It was a small scene, but one that probably came back to Tommy when Buck suggested moving in together.
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It was scenes like this one combined with Tommy's exclusion from group chat, etc., that probably helped to remind him that Buck's feelings six months ago were not about him and nothing had changed despite Buck's suggestion that he move in. Tommy's insecurities took over and reminded him what the inevitable end was going to be for them. He was the first not the last.
For the past six months, he's known that Eddie was between them, but you could see how comfortable he was with it. He didn't seem annoyed by Eddie's presence at all. I disagree with either Tim or Oliver when they try to play up that Tommy was Eddie's friend and this was natural. Eddie and Buck met Tommy at the same time, and Tommy was trying to shoot his shot by taking Eddie to Vegas. I don't know what was discussed between Eddie & Tommy during those few weeks where Buck was being left out, but it is clear that whatever conclusion he had drawn from the Vegas trip had been solidified by what happened on the basketball court, so much so that he wanted to apologize to Buck in person. We all know how that went, and I still think that was a good scene.
This brings me to the breakup scene itself. In the end, when Tommy talks about how he didn't see it coming. I don't think he was referring to the breakup. I think he was referring to the feelings he caught close to the end. He thought he would help Buck, provide a safe space for Buck to explore that he personally didn't have, and have some fun with a hot young thing, but he let it go too far. (His reasons are pretty much part of what Tim has said in interviews.) I don't think Tommy realized how much he had gotten caught up in the fantasy of Buck until Buck asked him to move in with him. I do think he's sincere when he says his heart would end up broken because, despite his feelings, he still understands there is something between Buck and Eddie even if they don't.
(One side note. I agree with Buck that first and last can be the same thing. I don't buy into the belief that you have to be with dozens of sexual partners, but I also don't think that would have been the case with Buck. He is a sexual character, and he's openly curious. I know people were mad about the interview where Oliver talked about letting Buck F#ck, but I think that would be in character for an upset Buck who was just dumped. It is less about his sexuality than it is about his abandonment issues and neglect trauma. That's my take anyway. We'll see what Tim does with it. I do think the part of Buck that craves monogamy already belongs to someone else, and the di was cast before Tommy came into his life, and we are back again to the hamster wheel.)
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If you stuck with me this long, thank you. I know there are few, if any, fans of Tommy around here so I appreciate that you were willing to objectively view him the way Tim kept trying to present him. I'm tired and I'm pretty sure I rambled a couple of times, but I do understand Tommy is a problematic character. I consider that to be a writing issue that never got a satisfying resolution. I'm equally aware some people hate him simply because he was with Buck. I'm not doing a lot of judging these days because I already know how unreasonable I'm going to be over Eddie being with another man. After seven seasons of subtext, they are already in love. These other relationships are like cheating. lol I'm not so secretly hoping that if Eddie needed a "first" he got it when he was a teenager or when he was in Afghanistan.
I can tell I'm going to be bad because when I see posts about Eddie sleeping with a priest, I want to scream into a pillow and pretend that I'm flipping over furniture and tossing chairs across the room. I just can't be reasonable. I would never attack the actors or writers though. That's not me. My jealousy is on Buck's behalf, and my bad behavior remains entirely inside my head. I don't know what they'll do with Eddie, but they are going to need a chat group to make sure Eddie's boyfriends do not meet with Buck's subconscious mind.
Click here to see the meta on Eddie Haunting the Narrative from #buddielifers.
#911 abc#buddie#ryan guzman#oliver stark#buck buckley#eddie diaz#911 spoilers#speculation really#Youtube
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You want more?
I gotchu
(Itâs all Danny and Lancer with the Waynes crack) (probably)
New rare pare just dropped??? Why do I kinda love Bruce/lancer
what is Mr lancers first name?? *one google search later* we donât know but it starts with an L :/
I dub thee: Lucas
Lucas âLukeâ Lancer (hell yeah, alliteration!)
So anyway Tim and Danny meet and are suspicious of each others odd behavior but ultimately end up with a more or less âI donât ask questions about where you sneak off to and your spontaneously unimportant injuries and you donât ask about me and mine yeah? Alr.â Type relationship, and actually hang out a lot.
The first few times Tim asked Danny about that Danny would always say that âyou havenât unlocked enough of my backstoryâ and move on. Tim doesnât like this but he gave up on trying because he cant find anything weird about his paper trail and Dannyâs a chill guy so itâs probably fine, I mean it not like heâs a vigilante right?
In the show his top speed was 112 mph so ima say he keeps improving his speed as he goes back n forth from Gotham to amity because letâs be so fr Valarie is handling most of the ghosts but there are some nights where it gets too much and she hast to call in backup, and by some nights I mean twice a month at least. What can I say? Amity park ghosts are mean and donât care about your education
After Jason gets back whatever plot shenanigans you want make it so that lancer is checking up on Danny at the same time Jason has to pick up Tim for whatever and Jason recognizes Lucas but he doesnât recognize jay yet (he will later), see where Iâm going with this? Ok so they get talking (the literature nerds) and Jason decides to double down on shipping Luke with Bruce. Bruce could seriously use the normal and positive influence and hey heâs good with kids so why not? Itâll be funny!
How could he do this the most efficiently, effectively and flamboyantly?? A gala probably, but first Bruce and lancer need to be to the level of friends where they would interact/maybe even seek each other out at a high society event, so *sigh* I guess heâs going to have to invite Danny and lancer to a family dinner or something, but heâs not close enough to either of them do do that without it being weird! His whole plan is falling apart!
Oh Timmy!!!!!~~ has Jason ever mentioned that your his favorite brother?? and heâll give you his desert at the monthly family dinners for three months if you do this one little thing for him?
So Danny ends up being invited to a Wayne dinner and oh Mr. Lancer you come in too, you came all this way, we insist! (He realizes Jason is Jason Wayne at the dinner btw)
Tim is floundering around Danny because this is the first time Danny looks well rested and with actually styled but also messy hair and what the fuck thatâs his roommate! He has no right to look this cute! Tim can see his freckles instead of the ever-present eye-bags and-! wait what why is his heart beating so fast, heâs been trained by the bat! A cute boy should not be able to affect him as much as it is. He need to do some more heart rate exercises because why is Danny so cute all of a sudden and maybe itâs one of his meta powers? No theyâre roommates, they live together, he wouldâve noticed, and now heâs spiraling but he canât really stop and-
Bruce is similarly struggling but he can deal with it by being such a clueless bimbo and tired dad because why are so many of his kids here? Itâs not even the monthly dinner yet? Is it because of Danny and Lucas? It probably is, he should invite them over more, jay is here and talking passionately about whatever lit thing with Lucas and he will totally invite Luke over more, I mean see how much he cares about his kids? Gah heâs just so perfect- wait what?
DCxDP: The Roomate
Despite all their madness, it's no secret in Amity Park that the Fentons are certified geniuses. When Maddie and Jack Fenton first move to town, they are all anyone can talk about.
Maddie was well known among women because, at the time, women in STEM were rare, and it was even rarer for them to actually gain recognition for their efforts. Her work, confusing to most of the public, meant a lot to the women in Amity Park.
Before she arrived, she had been featured in three separate magazines: one for science, another for sponsoring a scholarship for STEM women, and the last for her inventions of self-defense accessories to arm young women. Yes, most didn't know about her until they learned that she was moving into their small town, but that was beside the point.
Her husband was a little less known, but it came as no surprise that he was also said to be rumored as a well-educated man. He had two PhDs. Two.
At the time, almost everyone in Amity Park had a high school diploma, the highest degree level of the masses. Sure, some well-off families could send their children four towns away to the closest college, but it was rare.
It was also a privilegeâa means to show off at the annual street market, where the proud mothers would smugly describe their children's dorm rooms or majors to the tightly smiling neighbors.
In the early eighties, having a higher education made people appear more respected, and here was Jack Fenton, a man who had two Ph.D.s and was rumored to be working on his third. The man who had bought out the old Steward faculty building by the main street was having a crew removed into a home/laboratory.
Everyone buzzed for weeks about the new neighbors, and sharing any new details about them was exciting. It may be strange to people outside their little town, but with a population size of at least five thousand (at least in the eighties when the Fentons arrived. and the population grew well into the thousands when Axion Labs was built), news of changes was rare and few in between.
Amity Park didn't have big-shot names on their roads, much less stay to live. Heck, they only recently started getting a carnival to go by, and that was at least seventeen years since the Fentons moved in.
So, it was no surprise that Fenton's daughter showed just as large a brain as she did. Yes, the Fentons were less academic types than they were expecting, showing a rather odd obsession with the paranormal, but no one could deny their ability to build anything.
The Fenton boy was the only one who didn't live up to the family name. Danny was on the right path until Freshman year, when his grade rapidly dropped to the bottom of his class, he vanished for hours on end and went into destructive fits randomly.
He has been found among enough rooms ripped apart to know that Fenton was out of control. School staff spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Fenton often, and the two parents genuinely seemed to take their conversations to heart, attempting to instill better behavior within Danny.
Nothing seems to work. No grounding, detentions, community work, or group meetings seem to get through the boy's head. The Fentons were at their wit's end with their youngest. Mrs. Fenton, fretting that her son had never behaved like this.
Then, ghost attacks started appearing around the same time to make things worse. While the town laughed at them at first, everyone quickly realized the Fentons were one of the few who could provide defense against the ghosts. Throughout more and more attacks, the people started to defer to the Fentons in times of crisis.
The people who once booed them now rallied around them, and it took no time for everyone to acknowledge that the Fentons were now among the highest in the town's social ladder.
That came with some benefits.
"Are you sure this would help Danny?" Maddie asks, staring at the pamphlet in obvious doubt.
"Mrs. Fenton, I assure you that I would not have recommended Daniel for the program if I didn't think it would help him," Mr. Lancer responds with great patience. "It is apparent that he is dealing with something that needs more support than the school staff can provide."
"But to send him away?" Jack cuts in, looking close to tears.
"Don't think of it as sending him away. Think of it as putting him in an environment that can help him. Frankly, Daniel is struggling here. He's been having more and more destructive fits, his teachers have noticed he's paying less and less attention in class, and a few students have even approached me saying he seems to be hiding weapons in his bag."
"Weapons?" Maddie gasps. "Our Danny?"
"Rest assured, we have done searches and investigations as these accusations are not accepted without reason. Daniel does not seem to have any on him, but I worry he may be facing severe bullying if children were willing to lie about something so serious." Mr. Lacner sooth swiftly. He sighed, leaning back in his seat as neither adult looked particularly happy by his words. "The staff and I attempt to step in when we can, but bullies always find ways to slip past us. For example, bothering him off campus. I just think Daniel will be better away from those causing him harm, especially if he really is dealing with a previously unknown mental illness."
He pulls out more pamphlets, one with testimonies from previous program participants. When Lancer left Amity Park for college, he never planned to return. He got his teaching degree alongside his associates in English and History.
Lancer had taught at a different school, a more well-known and better-funded school, but he missed his small town. He missed the neighborly people, the less noise, and Amity's clean, crisp air. He found himself quitting his Gotham Academy job in Grades six to eight, moved back home, and attempted to drag Casper High out of its failing pit.
He still struggled as the school couldn't find enough teachers. He taught four different subjectsâmath, History, English, and Scienceâwhenever he could, and there was almost no funding.
But Casper High was slowly getting better every year due to the connections Lancer had made in his seven-year tenure as a Gotham Acadamy Professor. One of these connections was the father of his favorite English student.
Bruce Wayne.
Mr. Wayne attended every single one of Jason's plays, and as the Drama Club sponsor, Mr. Lancer would chat with him. Most people knew Wayne was an airhead, but Wayne was delightful to be around. Like Mr. Lancer, he cared deeply about education and always took the teacher's suggestions to bring up at PTA meetings.
When Lancer chose to move back to Amity, Jason was devastated and insisted he had Bruce's number. It was heavily implied that the board wanted Lancer gone due to his "questionable" teaching planâhe tried to teach empathy a little too much, according to some parentsâand the boy thought his sudden departure was due to this.
Mr. Wayne assured him if he had been let go or pressured into leaving, he would provide Lancer with an entire team of lawyers. Touching as it was, Lancer assured them he was leaving on his own accord.
He contacted Mr. Wayne, asking for advice on how to apply for school grants or any other tips the billionaire could give him. The man was the most involved Father Lancer had ever met, including fundraising and supporting art programs.
Casper High had been this close to removing Band, Drama, Cheerleading, soccer, and Baseball because it needed more money to afford them. Not to mention all the other clubs that had vanished when Lancer was a Casper student. Bruce was happy to help him save the programs for the students.
It was the main reason Lancer was made vice principal so quickly. He was basically keeping Casper High running.
Two years later, he heard the news that Jason had been murdered. It shattered Lancer's heart. He went to the funeral and watched Mr.Wayne slowly fall apart. Even as he returned home, he tried to reach out to the man whenever he could.
It may have felt different to the other man, but Lancer always thought they were friends. Eventually, Mr. Wayne bounced backânever forgotâfrom Jason's death, and slowly, the gap between them was reconnected.
The reason for Mr. Wayne's mental recovery was the one that suggested this program. He had personally invited Mr. Lancer to send Daniel.
"Tim Drake is a brilliant boy," Mr. Lancer continued, watching the two couples struggle to decide. "His team is filled with trained psychologists, he has the facilities to deal with Meta children, and Daniel won't be uncomfortable rooming with him as a teenager himself."
Maddie looks at Jack, but while she sees the hurt in his eyes, she also sees his resolve. "Alright, we'll send Danny to the Meta Mentoring Program. It's what's best."
"I'll let Mr. Drake know he'll have a roommate."
#if dead tired happens and Bruce/lancer happens then Mr lancer is going to be Dannyâs father in law and Danny doesnât like this#i donât know where i was going with this#but god damn was i going#dead tired#Bruce x Lancer#i donât know their ship name#bruce wayne#danny fenton#tim drake#mr lancer#prev tags#danny phantom x detective comics#dcxdp crossover#dcxdp#dpxdc crossover#dpxdc#dcxdpdabbles#the roomate#mr.lancer is one of those teachers that care and single handle keeing the school open#part 1#I see that part 1 tag and I have decided to ignore it in favor of giving the people shenanigans#sorry op#i had to#Jason sees the moment Bruce realizes his crush is back#he is rejoicing inside but it ends up with him just looking smug#to be fair he is also being smug about it#everyone else catches on quick about whatâs up with Bruce and Tim and their crushes#either immediately is on board ride or fucking die#or is hesitant and is reluctantly okay with it they guess but only because b is happy#I reached the tag limit lmaooooo
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What really pisses me off is people insisting the break-up doesn't make sense as its own thing when it's so clearly in-character for both of them
Buck has been in a serious relationship with a man for six months but hasn't said the word bisexual. We only know that's His Label bc Oliver Stark calls him bisexual outside of the show. Buck has had what seemed to be a perfect fairytale relationship with Tommy bc Tommy made him feel so safe and comfortable and taken care of that he just let everything else about his coming out journey kinda simmer on the back burner.
And, hey, there's nothing wrong with taking your time with that. But considering the scene at dispatch where he still couldn't talk about his sexuality in concrete terms, clearly he hasn't processed it much, if at all. Buck is the guy who dives deep into research at the slightest opportunity, him knowing so little about queerness and queer culture six months into a serious same-sex relationship isn't just out of character but a clear sign that he simply hasn't done any work to explore his sexuality for himself outside of his relationship with Tommy. Whether the writers intended for it read like that or not doesn't matter very much, bc that's exactly what I'm seeing here.
And, again, that alone as a reason to break up with someone is extremely shitty but that's also not what happened.
Tommy clearly has a history of isolating. He's been hurt a lot in the past, we don't need to know the details to know he's a deeply wounded man who spent most of his life guarding his own heart from the world. He told Buck and the audience over and over again, "I look confident. I look sure. I am comfortable. But it took hard work. I wasn't like this before. This is new. This is good but this is scary. I'm working on it I'm working on it I'm working."
He can see that Buck views him as something more, something better, than he thinks he is. Buck loves Tommy, Buck was infatuated with Tommy. Tommy was this perfect guy in Buck's eyes. And that scared Tommy. It intimidated him. But he kept going bc it wasn't a big deal and he could always remind Buck that hey he's just a guy, a guy who had done things wrong for a long time. But Buck never fully grasped it either. Likely bc of how good Tommy made him feel, he struggled to fully grasp that things with Tommy couldn't always be so perfect and good and safe.
They don't talk about that but they keep going bc they like each other bc they're falling in love bc until that six month mark they were both still fairly distracted by how good it felt to be together to really, seriously consider the ramifications of ignoring those not-so-little things they didn't want to face right then.
And then suddenly it's been six months and they're clearly both in love and they're both clearly not ready to be acknowledging that at all. It's been six months and they're just trying to match each other's pace but have never talked about what that pace actually is and then suddenly they're talking about how Tommy used to be engaged to the woman who taught Buck what a real relationship meant and they still aren't even ready to acknowledge they're in love but Buck is already asking to move in together and talking about marriage and they haven't even said i love yous and Buck can't even utter the word bisexual out loud but he wants to jump into living together and fusing their lives together.
But he's not ready for that. As far as Tommy can see he's not ready for that. And if he's asking for something so big when he can't even say the word love then maybe, in Tommy's mind, he'll never truly be able to say it. Maybe they'll keep going like this. Living together and being together but Buck can't face his sexuality as its own thing and Tommy can't face how his trauma affects their relationship and eventually it'll be too much and maybe Buck still wouldn't want to say it and Tommy would push him away like he pushes everyone away and then they'll be right back to that moment, weeks or months or years later, with Buck wanting more but not able to say those words and with Tommy wishing he'd left before it hurt so much.
And sure it hurts to leave now but at least now he's early. Now, Buck hasn't wrapped himself around every piece of his life. Just his heart. At least now he'll hurt but he won't have to move just to get rid of the scent of Evan Buckley perpetually lingering in every corner of his home.
Buck loves Tommy so much he can't imagine a future without him. Tommy loves him so much he can't imagine a future where he gets to keep him.
The break-up makes all the sense in the world. It just doesn't make sense that the break-up wouldn't force them to work on their respective issues and bring them back together stronger in the future.
#bucktommy#911 abc#this is an angsty ass will they wont they slow burn endgame in my mind#and if the show fumbles such a perfect romance arc that's on them for being morons#but as far as I'm concerned they're each other's forever#they're just not ready for forever yet
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reaction to s/o with long hair
stray kids maknae line x gn!reader à«źê°âžâž> Ì« <âžâžê±á
request: how maknae line would react to s/o with really nice, really long, tailbone length hair?
wc: 578
han
jisung would be fascinated by your long hair and likely compliment it frequently, pointing out how elegant or pretty it is. he might try to help take care of it by offering to braid it or try new hairstyles, or he might playfully run his fingers through it. he might also make lighthearted comments or playfully tease you about how much hair care product you might need. all in all, jisung would be loving and respect the beauty and work involved in keeping long hair. however, he would love if you talked about any hardships or funny experiences you had handling your long hair.
felix
felix would find your hair's flow and appearance captivating and give you many sincere compliments, such as "Your hair is so pretty," or "It looks so soft!" To show how much he cares, he would offer to brush your hair often. felix would probably be a reassuring presence if you were ever annoyed by your long hair (i.e., because it was getting in the way or taking too long to style). he would listen to you patiently and perhaps make silly remarks to lift up your mood or offer lighthearted but kind advice to help. he would love spending time with you doing your hair or giving you compliments while you do it. whether or not you have long hair, he would never hold back from complimenting you on your beauty.
seungmin
seungmin would treat a long-haired partner with extreme consideration and gentleness. even though his reactions would be a little quieter they would still be very tender and kind. Because he doesn't want to unintentionally ruin your hair or cause you any discomfort, he may first be a little shy or cautious about it. He would, however, probably voice lots of compliments for its beauty once he is comfortable. seungmin will most likely give you a genuine, gentle compliment on your long hair, such as, "Your hair looks really pretty today." Seungmin might ask about your hair care routine because he is genuinely interested in how you manage to keep it looking so well. He would most likely like hearing you explain your routine, offering encouragement and maybe showing interest at the amount of time and work required to take care of it. He would be the kind to discreetly offer help, either by helping you in tying it back or by saying, "Do you want me to help you with that?" Although he wouldn't fuss over it, his small acts would show his concern.
I.N
jeongin would probably be fascinated by it and often comment on how beautiful and soft it looks. he may be a little hesitant at first but once he's comfortable with you, he'll be the type that comments on your hair often and say things like, "You have the kind of hair that makes everyone else jealous." He would most likely love playing with your hair, either by softly running his fingers through it, tucking it behind your ear, or offering you a little compliment. jeongin would be hesitant to ask too many questions, but if he's curious, he might ask about how you take care of your hair or if you have a particular routine. Because of his commitment to you, he will definitely want to know how he can help you maintain it. He would also likely like watching you try out different hairstyles, particularly if you taught him how to do it.
â
niniâs notes 110924
my first ever request i donât know how i did i hope this is alright đ«Łđ«Ł.
asks are always open if you have a question, concern, or request!
- đ
#stray kids imagines#stray kids fluff#stray kids x you#skz x y/n#stray kids x reader#skz imagines#stray kids fanfic#stray kids scenarios#stray kids reactions#stray kids requests#stray kids x gn reader#stray kids x y/n#stray kids soft thoughts#stray kids x gender neutral reader
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Kicks the door open I have come! to request a Self-aware AU with the Twst bois. When they and the Darling/MC/Player/S/O switch bodies. However, the Darling isn't inside the game. So it's like the Darling waking up in the boys' bodies inside the game, and the boys waking up in the Darling's body in the real world. Thankyou very much đđđ«âš
.â ïœĄâ *â ⥠a/n: self-aware au, my beloved. It was so fun to write this and I wrote a lot too đ„șđ. It took me a while to finish, so I hope you like it, darling!
Azul could always feel your presence through the puppet you control. He felt calm when you looked at him. He felt delighted at every laugh you laughed, and he wanted nothing more than to be beside you. The real you. He wished really hard for it to be possible someday, not knowing that this was exactly what was going to happen. Although his request was successful, there was just one error in the equation: he was in your body, your holy, beautiful body. Which means... You were in his horrible body.
While others would feel happy (and he really is happy to an extent), Azul feels a sense of trepidation knowing that you were awaking in his body and there was no way for him to check on you. Or could he? He tried calling his own phone but it wasn't possible. Resigned, he then took to explore your room and home and if you have any roommates / lived with your parents, Azul would try get along with them and collect information on you. While this isn't the ideal, Azul still has to think ten times ahead so when he take you to Twisted Wonderland (not a matter of if but more of when), he could make you sign a deal.
By the way, he definitely try to unlock your phone. And since he is in your body, Azul may try to unlock your phone with your fingerprint or your face if your phone has that function. If he is successful Azul will read your messages as if it were a magazine, he would see what type of songs you listen and videos you like to watch, what's in your history. Basically he is your fbi agent seeing everything on your phone, there's not a thing he'll not see. Good luck for you, reader. That's why I always I always delete my history lol.
Meanwhile you. You wake up on Azul Ashengrotto's body, the octavinelle dorm leader. Geez, are you dreaming? But everything is so real and feels so real. Jade and Floyd seems so real. And their voices, mocking and teasing, almost condescending as you tried your best to act like Azul. They seemed to know that something was wrong but neither choose to ask, brushing off as you being busy with a new scam plan. You were overjoyed but also anxious, without knowing what to do. Could you even return to your body at all? Only time will tell.
â â
Jade always knew that something was strange with this world, it was almost too... Surreal? He can't quite put into words the things he feel but everything was so much clearer whenever he could feel your presence when he was studying or riding his broom. He could feel your presence when he was cooking, when he was talking about this terrariums, when he was beating people who broke their part of the deal. You seemed to favor him, to love him. He could feel your affection seeping through your cellphone. And he wished to see you, to know you as intimately as you knew him.
And that wish became real. One day he woke up in a different bedroom, in a different body, then, while he is a little surprised, Jade just brush this off as something you did. Perhaps you wanted to show him your world? You wanted to show him your life? Or were you trying to show him something else? Either way, Jade is having the time of his life in your body. Though, as if he was mesmerized by it, he caught himself looking himself at the mirror to see your face staring right back at him. He looks like an excited kid making silly faces in front of the mirror. Honestly he is so unserious. Making faces and silly dances, and laughing because of it.
â
Floyd is instantly thrilled, if somewhat bewildered. At first, he messes around with everything he can find, marveling at your surroundings and taking a deep dive into your belongings â he finds it all so fascinating. Heâs absolutely entertained by exploring your room, your things, and all the little details that give him insight into your life. But once the novelty wears off, his mischievous nature kicks in. He wants to know everything about you â what you like, your habits, your friends â and heâs not afraid to dig deep. Floyd starts exploring your social media, searching for anything that brings him closer to you and your world. If he finds anyone he thinks might be close to you, heâs ready to make them uncomfortable with cryptic messages or odd behavior, wanting to make it clear that no one knows you better than him.
Meanwhile, you, trapped in Floydâs body, have to navigate his spontaneous, unpredictable moods and intense physicality â whether in class, on the basketball court, or during his shenanigans. He's having the time of his life while you are fighting for yours, even more when Azul send you to squeeze some people. Like??? How are you supposed to do this????
â
Silver always dreamt of you. He knew you, the feeling of your love and affection, the tone of your voice, even if when he woke up he forget everything. A blurry line separating you two. For a while, he thought that you were some higher being that he created on his mind, a simple part of his imagination. That is until this magicless student come around and your presence was all over them, controlling them, talking through them. He wanted to get closer, he wished he could talk to you, to bask on your presence. But he couldn't. He couldn't break his code. Not yet.
But when he slept that night something was different. He couldn't jump into another dream, his voice was different, his height was different, then when he inched closer to the mirror, he saw. A different face. And he knew instantly that it was your face. It was a very beautiful face, exactly how he had imagined. Though it was not what he wanted. He wanted to talk to you, to tell what he felt whenever your gaze was upon him. He didn't want to be you. Or for you to be him.
â
Riddle wakes up in your body, feeling completely disoriented and frustrated with the lack of control he has over the new, unfamiliar world around him. But soon, the shock turns into curiosity and then into obsession as he realizes he now has full access to everything about you, your routines, belongings, even your weaknesses, and insecurities.
Riddleâs meticulous nature drives him to organize your life, make everything as âperfectâ as he can, so when youâre back, itâll be clear that he knows whatâs best for you. He spends hours exploring your things, setting up strict plans, and making lists, even going so far as to cut out people he feels are a bad influence. All of this, in his mind, is for your âown good.â
In Twisted Wonderland, youâre now bound to the rules of Heartslabyul, balancing Riddleâs strict schedule, navigating his many routines, and dealing with his high standards as you struggle to maintain his reputation without causing a commotion.
â
Jamil is quick to adjust, immediately masking his initial confusion in favor of stealthily gathering information about your world. He keeps a low profile, but behind that calm facade, heâs strategically piecing together every part of your life, figuring out whoâs important to you and how he can stay in your life even if he returns to his world. Jamil moves through your world with subtlety, observing your friends and family with a quiet intensity, noting who to trust â and who to remove from your life. Heâs ready to make subtle changes to your social circle or behavior, aligning your life with what he thinks is âbest.â
Meanwhile, back in Twisted Wonderland, youâre handling Jamilâs carefully hidden responsibilities, feeling the pressure of his dual life between serving Kalim and managing his own ambitions, all while trying not to slip up and reveal your true identity. It's difficult.
â
Kalim wakes up in your body with sheer joy and fascination, his excitement overriding any initial confusion. Heâs absolutely delighted to be in your world, taking in every little detail with childlike wonder. Kalim sees this as an opportunity to become even closer to you, and he goes about learning everything there is to know about your life, friends, and family, brimming with excitement to be part of it all. Heâs incredibly affectionate with anyone he meets, happy to share his thoughts, and may unintentionally end up sharing details about âyouâ that leave people puzzled. He canât resist splurging a bit on your behalf, thinking heâs treating you.
As for you, adapting to Kalimâs responsibilities in Twisted Wonderland is overwhelming, as youâre thrown into his high-energy life and surrounded by his devoted friends and followers. His cheerful, social world is a whirlwind of activity and expectation, especially with Jamil by your side, assessing every move you make with a scrutinizing eye.
â
When Ruggie wakes up in your body, heâs initially thrown off but quickly realizes the opportunity in front of him. Instead of panicking, he takes a strategic approach, savoring every moment as he explores your life and digs into your personal world. His tendencies kick in subtly but intensely; heâs not one for grand, showy gestures, but every action is deliberate, aimed at securing his presence in your life as deeply as possible, as he changes your wallpaper for fanart of him and enters the game to level up all his cards for you.
He begins by poking through your belongings, finding small things that give him insight into your personality, routines, and friends. Ruggie is careful to go unnoticed, learning as much as he can about your relationships and keeping mental notes about anyone he thinks poses a âthreatâ to his place in your life. Heâs not above making subtle changes, distancing you from people he dislikes and reshaping your social circle to align with his preferences, but he does so with skillful subtlety â most people wonât even realize heâs manipulating things from behind the scenes.
If you have a job, heâll blend right in, charming your colleagues and subtly gaining their favor, leaving an impression that makes it hard for anyone to forget you. Heâs naturally resourceful, too, so he takes a look at your finances, maybe even setting aside a bit of extra money âfor emergenciesâ (which, of course, he intends to use for things he thinks youâll need down the line).
Meanwhile, back in Twisted Wonderland, youâre adjusting to the gritty pace of Ruggieâs life in Savanaclaw. His resourcefulness is evident in every little aspect of his world â from balancing odd jobs to navigating the intense social structure under Leonaâs rule. You feel the constant need to stay alert, manage his reputation, and keep up with his never-ending hustle. Itâs a life of quick thinking, constant negotiation, and clever shortcuts that keep you on your toes, giving you a firsthand taste of Ruggieâs way of surviving in a world that doesnât make things easy. You made a note to dote on him when you get back to your body, he deserves.
#yandere twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland#yandere azul#yandere jade#yandere floyd#yandere ruggie#yandere ridde#yandere jamil#yandere kalim#riddle x mc#riddle x yuu#riddle x reader#jamil x mc#jamil x yuu#jamil x reader#kalim x mc#kalim x yuu#kalim x reader#azul x mc#azul x reader#azul x yuu#ruggie x mc#ruggie x yuu#ruggie x reader#jade x mc#jade x yuu#jade x reader#floyd x mc#floyd x yuu#floyd x reader
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you writing is so beautiful. the way that logan tries to stop her - how blunt and earnest he is and the worst person for the job (but also best, in his own way) but he's trying, gosh that got me. love the line about logan's tailights being a lighthouse, guiding her back out in all that dark, and then trying to make her promise she won't go back.
and how they bump into each other again, the way he takes time and listens to her each time had my heart aching. the way you write her grief felt so real (I really appreciate how you wrote this fic - my own mental health over the past few years has been rocky and this felt so - gosh, I don't know, relatable? hopeful? wonderful? to read), and the fact that he understands in a way that no one else she knows does - it such a rough connection but you have me feeling glad for each of their encounters.
âLogan.â He sighs when you frown. âI know, not how you remember. This is what I look like during the day; blessed with incredible good looks at night and, well,â he gestures at his face thatâs covered in scars, "this, during the day. Bit of a reverse Princess Fiona situationââ
Wheezing omg - perfect Wade introduction. And then that she goes back, and I that she hates but I love that he is getting a handle at how she thinks, how he makes her be honest. And gosh when he opens up in return, that fondness he had for Wade, how he's still hurting from before, I was inhaling this.
Loving 'DVDJ' (and the F9/Wade & Logan references omfg) and I so feel for reader and how hard it is to put yourself out there, but what a great group of people for her to surround herself with. And the whiplash with her finding him like that, how it still comes back to him after all the healing he's been trying to do, all of this made my chest ache.
Heâs talking about his team from there, you realize, and something clicks. All this time, you thought this was about him being unable to die due to his mutation, but itâs more than that. Itâs shame, remorse, grief, survivorâs guilt, all wrapped into one. // âYou did what they would have done. And now you⊠you need to allow yourself to honor their memory without feeling like you have to destroy yourself to do it. You deserve that.â
Ahh this made me want to cry - I love how you dug into his grief in this. How she's able to help him this time, find the words he needs to hear. And ahh I love how you write everyone - Vanessa, Wade, Althea. Logan's chip! I am tearing up again, especially at this part:
âI have people I care about again, and um, it scares me. âCause I donât want to let them down, and every day I feel like I will because of all of my⊠past shit.â He pauses and swallows hard before he continues, âThey show me so much kindness and understanding, that⊠that even though itâs fucking hard, I want to be able to see myself the way they see me. And allow them to care about me without feeling like I⊠have to earn it all the time, without destroying myself to do it.â
oh!! đ„șđ and then I love the reveal that the cliff was a space in his world, even with their shared history of it. like they were always meant to meet, the âThink it took me coming over here to find reason in it.â had me like !!!! - sad and lovely is so right.
ââsides, I donât know if I would have a lot of⊠consideration for peopleâs boundaries.â
this made me laugh (reference to Hugh's interview right??) omg. and the way you pace things, how they slowly get better and fall into place for her, it makes me so proud, even just as a reader.
âOh, yeah, baby. Wolverine goes both ways. All the ways, really.â He grins. âWeâre so alike.â // It isnât lost on you he doesnât deny a thing.
Grinning, oh my god. And how sweet she is with the gift and how Wade wants to take a new photo of his new world - my heart. And then how seeing Vanessa and Wade makes her think about more, when at the beginning that was impossible - weeping.
Everything thatâs been happening, that youâve been feeling, all the times something happened between the two of you that you couldnât put your finger on⊠it falls into place with a well-timed, completely unrelated question and a glance at him.
You like him.
!!!!! god, what a realization. and how she can't handle it, so real. And how he comes through the rain to check on her, oh my god. That he checked, and how scared he must have been!
âIâ No. Logan, this isnât about Wade or Vanessa, but itâs about⊠what they have. Something thatâs real, but imperfect, and thatâs what actually makes it perfect, and I just⊠I was in a really bad place for such a long time, I didnât give myself time to even think about⊠I havenât felt myself wanting for so long,â your gaze flicks up to his. âSeeing them just made me realize thereâs so much left that I still want.â // His expression softens, the balled fists by his side loosen, and his eyes search you, as if to see if that thing you want is him. Thereâs no doubt he finds his answer; youâre ever the open book when it comes to him, and your pulse quickens while he silently observes you.
Oh. And oh my god that perfectly imperfect kiss, the fact he's been wanting to for ages!!!!! I am screaming. âWouldnât be the first time we figure it out together, huh?â !!!! (the vein appreciation, loved that)
âIâll make it good for you,â he promises. âYou want that?â
eep! đłđ the smut was so perfect, so good. I am obsessed with how soft he is for her -
âLet me give you something to come on,â he murmurs, before fitting a finger at your entrance.
LOGAN đł the desperation with how theyâre still on her table, how sweet and pleased he is - the âthen get it outâ, omg he is so filthy. This was amazing (that stomach vein yesssss) just absolutely steamy as hell and so so well-written and I had to keep taking breaks to stare at the wall. Phew! Fucking her against the wall!!!! I love the use of the strength here and yessss a long night indeed!! đđđ
And gosh, the last segment. No words, my heart is tied up in the sweetest of strings and knots. This was really something special. I already want to reread and pick each line apart. This was Logan and this is canon to me and wow I just loved this so much and I hope you are so proud of this fic because you really really should be. I am going to be thinking about this for a long time đ (and I would love to hear about the title, is Logan her cardinal?)(like a sign of hope and new beginnings?)
Cardinal
Pairing: Logan Howlett ("Worst" Wolverine) x f!reader
Rating: Explicit (for themes and smut).
Word count: 16.6k
Summary: At the edge of the world, someone from another keeps you from stepping off.
Tags/Warnings (Please, read the warnings!!): Post-Deadpool & Wolverine, female reader (female anatomy etc + 2 mentions of hair long enough to fall into your eyes), strangers-to-lovers, depression, suicidal ideations, suicide attempt and mentions thereof, addiction, drinking alcohol, drugs (mentioned not used), panic attacks, sobriety meetings, anxiety, recovery, co-dependency vibes, sprinkles of soulmateism, explicit smut (oral and unprotected PIV), happy ending (yay!!). If I forgot anything, please let me know!
Notes: Deadpool and Wolverine re-triggered my X-Men obsession and what started as a means to write some smut actually became this idea about two broken people who shouldn't even have met in the first place finding each other. There's a lot of me in this story, more than there's ever been I think. I'm sorry for this glimpse into my head, and I'm sorry if this isn't as Reader-insert as it should be, but... I'm not that sorry, you know. Huge thanks to @javier-pena , for not only reading this over and fixing so many embarrassing mistakes, but also for saying she'd read this even if it was 20k words and always believing in my abilities as a writer, even when I sometimes didn't.
If you want to read the smut as a standalone, you can! Just CTRL + F (or search in page) for 'Logan reaches for' and read away.
THE LOOKOUT
With closed eyes, you inhale the cool, December air, before looking down at your feet. Here, at the edge of the lookout, the grass has been trampled. You imagine friends taking bets on who dares get closest to the edge, lovers making memories, families taking pictures. Itâs strangely soothing that maybe youâre not the first to stand here to do this.Â
Far below your feet, the water laps at the rocks. The force of it depends on the weather and tonight itâs violent, with big splashes and crashing sounds. The wind tugs at your coat, pulling you towards the water as if to help you along, making you look up again as you hold your balance. In front of you, the line of the horizon is dark but visible â it would have been impossible to make out if the moon hadnât been as bright as it is.
Itâs like youâre looking at the edge of the world.
During the weeks that fall had made way for winter, you scoped the place out a couple times. The first time you stood at this cliffâs edge, the place it took you to mentally scared you so much that you got back into your car and broke down in tears. The next couple times, things became more and more serious, as your life crumbled around you, and your feelings numbed, and nothing seemed to matter anymore.
Something had crept in while you werenât looking, settling somewhere behind your eyes and spreading out to make a home behind your ribs, slowly but surely changing you. And once you realized it, it was already too late. It had grown large, became jilted and jealous, like it wanted all of you. It pushed away everyone and everything you held dear, until it was just you and that⊠something.
Especially during the quiet of the night, the lookout became soothing, a strange sense of familiarity enveloping you each time you were here. It was addictive and pretty soon, it became a daily routine to visit. But lately itâs been losing its shine, your feelings here dulling and darkening too. Youâre exhausted, fed up, tired of giving it more of you.
Today you want it to be your last time here.Â
Youâve had countless hours to contemplate what it would be like, imagined â all but romanticised â how the cold water would paralyse your limbs if the impact wouldn't do the trick. You read somewhere that itâs apparently like falling asleep when the water finally fills your lungs. Youâll be gone, but the thing will be too.
The thought makes your eyes fill with tears, but not from fear. All you feel is relief, like itâs right, how itâs supposed to be. It makes you smile despite everything, andâ
âHey, stop!â
A voice behind you thunders through the silence and makes you shriek into the night, dirt toppling over the edge of the lookout below the shuffle of your foot. A string of curses follows, heavy footfalls behind you indicating that the intruder is approaching you.
âFuck off!â you throw over your shoulder, your voice a roar with how itâs amplified by the wind.Â
After, your throat closes up, fighting the angry tears over the fact that you canât even fucking kill yourself in peace. Never have you seen anyone here at night, never. What you hate even more is how it breaks your momentum. The haze that was surrounding you is pierced, and your bodyâs baser instincts kick in. Adrenaline suddenly pumps through your veins, making your legs tremble, your heart hammer, your body scream for you to step back from where youâre standing. Your anger, however, has you nailed to the floor.Â
You almost miss the much softer, âHey,â as a man steps into your peripheral vision. You pretend like you donât hear him, or see him â you simply pretend he isnât there, focussing on getting back into your previous mindset.Â
But then he takes his hands out of his pockets.
âDonât fucking touch me,â you warn, hating how your voice comes out trembling â weak.
âEasy.â He holds his hands up in surrender. âWasnât planning on it.â
You stand there together for what feels like hours. You will yourself to not let it affect you, setting your jaw to keep your teeth from clattering on account of the cold, allow the wind to blow your hair into your eyes without brushing it away. Even when it begins to rain, you donât move, donât blink even once more than you need to. From the corner of your eye you watch the man shove his hands back in the pockets of the brown leather jacket heâs wearing, and you quietly celebrate that your surroundings are fazing him more than they are you.
âYou knowââ he begins.
âIâm not really looking for a conversation.â
âMe neither,â he immediately counters, suddenly impatient, âso Iâll get right to it: You planning on jumping? Because if you think the waterâs gonna be nice to you, youâve got that wrong. Youâll end up in there feeling everything, that fall isnât gonna do shit.â
Having expected a gentle approach, his bluntness and his tone knock the wind out of you. You cock your jaw, the shame creeping up your body the first bit of warmth youâve felt in a while. Your cold fingers ball to fists as you will yourself not to care. Yes, his words and the way he's shatterĂng your expectations with them sting, but you donât even know this guyâ
âAnd thereâs nothing fuckinâ peaceful about it, itâs just panic. Right before you go too farâŠâ He raises a fist and holds it against the center of his chest, â...thereâs this burning right here thatâs hell.â
âAnd what makes you such an expert?â you finally spit out.
âDied like that a couple times,â he says without waiting a beat.
The casual statement of something so bizarre beats your resolve before you know it, your head turning in his direction. ââA couple timesâ?â
âI, uhâŠâ You watch him hesitate, the moonlight illuminating the tick of his jaw, the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way his chest falls as he sighs, âLetâs just say I canât die.â
Before you can stop yourself, you snort at that. âThat must fucking suck.â
He barks out a laugh, âGot that right.â It startles you when his head suddenly turns to you, when he looks you in the eye for the first time. âBut trust me, being down there isnât much better.â
Thereâs something in the way he looks at you that makes you waver. You canât really place it, or decipher why it makes you want to open up to him. Maybe itâs because youâre freezing and itâs your body betraying you, tricking you into moving so you can generate some warmth, moving your lips to keep them from going blue. Or maybe itâs simply because heâs a stranger and itâs so much easier to be honest when there are no consequences.
âThings just feel soâŠ,â you begin, voice shaky. Every possible way to end the sentence crosses your mind, seemingly all wrong, before you settle on whatâs closest to how you feel, âendless.â
To your relief, he doesnât say anything. Doesnât tell you to give it time that it will get better, or any of the other bullshit youâve heard from all the other people that had been in your life and left a long time ago. You do find something else in the shift in his eyes, something you havenât encountered before.
Understanding.
It might be worse. If anything, itâs overwhelming, making your eyes dart away from his as you sniff.Â
The wind still tugs at you, the waves still hit the rocks, but your moment seems to have passed. Itâs a sobering conclusion, a twisted version of wrong place, wrong time. Or maybe it was him who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, the outcome is the same.
You take a step back, and another, but it takes considerable effort; you hadnât taken your numb legs into consideration. You stumble, falling back on the dewy, cold grass, not quick enough to catch yourself on your hands. With a groan, you move to sit upright.
âShit. Hey, you still with me?â The stranger kneels next to you, fingers lifting your chin to look into your eyes. âJesus, youâre fucking freezing.â
âNo s-sh-hit,â you retort.
He sighs, offering you a hand so he can pull you up. âCâmon, let's get you warmed up.â
â â â â â
Logan.
Thatâs his name.Â
Itâs how he introduced himself, anyway, after he suggested you follow him. To his credit, he did offer to drive you, but you didnât want to leave your car in the parking lot of the lookout. Logan waited 15 minutes for you while you put the blowers on the highest, warmest setting and waited for the feeling to return to your limbs. After, his brown truck led the way here â here being some hole in the wall, 24 hour diner. You could have not followed, but the drive was kind of mesmerizing; the night seemed darker than usual, and Loganâs tail lights served as a lighthouse.
Outside, the diner is all Christmas lights and flashing signs, but the interior is like something straight out of Twin Peaks; booths to the left, red barstools to the right, a girl that looks too pretty and too young to be here standing behind the counter. There were two other patrons you spotted along the way as Logan led you to one of the back booths. Once seated, Logan studied the pamphletsâor pretended to, more like, because as soon as the waitress came up he ordered two whiskeys and nothing else.
Between then and now, as you nursed your drink sip by careful sip, you hadnât learned much more about him other than that he could knock back a glass of whiskey like he got paid to do so. And in truth, you like it this way; preferring silent company, the droning of the machinery behind the counter and the quiet hum of a song on the jukebox next to the entrance. The white noise helps to distract from the white noise in your head. Settling back into the leather cushions of the booth, you let some warmth seep back into your body. Opposite you, Logan does the same.Â
Some moments after you finish your drink, one of the waitresses walks up to your booth to ask you about a refill, like sheâs asked Logan twice now. Youâre handing her the glass when Logan says, âSheâs had enough.â
Your head whips from her to him. âExcuse me?â
He doesnât say anything, and from the corner of your eye, you see the girl leave. With your glass. Loganâs is on his lips, his eyes observing you over the rim, looking at you like heâ Dammit. You sigh deeply, a sense of anger filling you. You donât need this, least of all from him. When you stand from the booth, those eyes follow you, making you voice your observations,
âQuit pitying me, Logan.â
âIâm not,â he says before taking another sip. âYou still have to drive.â
You quirk an eyebrow at him. âAnd you donât?â
Logan shrugs. âItâs different for me.â
Anger is still prevalent in your voice when you ask, âWell, let me guess, itâs another case of âI died like that a couple timesâ?âÂ
He hums.
âAnd how does that work?â
âRegenerative ability,â he sighs. Another sip before he elaborates, âX-Gene.âÂ
The admission makes you plop back down in your seat. Well, that explains things â heâs a mutant. Youâre not familiar with that world, but you know enough to know it meant that. It isnât like you couldnât have deduced it before, but truthfully, you kind of thought he was bullshiting you as part of some tactic. Now, his actions and words make more sense: He really knows what itâs like to... Thatâs why he had that look on his face. Suddenly, you see him in a different lightâ
âNow whoâs pitying who, hmm?â Logan asks, giving you a thin-lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he sets his glass down on the table.
âIâm not, Iâm just⊠processing. So this...â you lift his glass, swirl the contents around, â...doesnât even affect you?â
âIt does. For a few seconds.â He plucks the glass back from your hand, and throws the whiskey back with one gulp. His pupils dilate, pushing the hazel of his irises out until his eyes are almost black for a second, two⊠before going back to normal. âBut if I chugged the bottle, Iâd pass out.â
âWell, so would I,â you say with a chuckle. âSo maybe weâre not that different after all.â
Just as the corner of his mouth lifts, your smile falls, because⊠it isnât true; youâre very different. Youâre pretty sure you donât have what it takes to do what he did tonight. To care enough to do it. To sit with a stranger and hear them bitch and moan about being denied a drink. A feeling creeps up on you, sticky and uncomfortable, like youâve overstayed your welcomeâburdened him.
âI should head home,â you say, standing again.
Lightning fast, Loganâs hand shoots out to close around your wrist. âThat really where youâre going?â
âYes,â you reply. When you pull your hand back, he doesnât let up. You fish your car key out of your pocket with your free hand, voice tighter when you say, âLet me go.â
âJust promise me something,â he says, eyes as dark as theyâd been earlier, yet his drink has gone untouched since. âDonât go back there again.â
âNot making promises I canât keep,â you say, giving him a wry smile. âTo strangers, but least of all to myself.â
He sighs, and lets you pull yourself from his hold.
THE CRAVING
New Years comes and goes, and you quickly discover that it was foolish superstition to think that it might change how you feel.
You find yourself in some club, a drink in each hand. You hate to admit it, but Loganâs words scared you out of your original idea and the only time you can bear to think of how to move on from it is when alcohol soothes the embarrassing grief of your shattered, macabre fantasy. Itâs not a good way to deal with things, but it works.
Thereâs a part of you that welcomes feeling anything at all, but that⊠something inside you is busy trying to squash it.Â
Itâs getting somewhere, because you have no idea how much youâve already had to drink, but youâre buzzing pleasantly. Adding to it, you knock both drinks back, slamming the glasses on the bar before spinning around and facing the crowd of dancing bodies. The music sucks, the dance floor is cramped, youâre tired⊠The truth is that youâre too old for this, but itâs easy to escape here, surrounded by strangers. You clumsily drag the back of your hand over your wet mouth, push your sweaty hair from your eyes, and join them.
The past couple weeks, you found yourself craving something. Contact. And here is where you can get your fill; a hand on your waist, lips on your ear, the music too loud and yourself too drunk to even comprehend whatâs being said, but never more. You want them to get close, but never too close.
After some time â could be an hour, could be 10 minutes â you make your way to the bathroom. Itâs quieter here, the dulled thump of the music making the time you spend there feel slow and syrupy.Â
When you exit the stall, you bump into someone.
Itâs a man. The dark hood over his head obscures his eyes, but you canât help but think heâs looking right at you when a bright, almost unnatural grin appears on his face. It draws you in like a magnet, more so when he says, âNeed something to take the edge off?âÂ
Curiously, you watch as he opens his palm, long fingers unfurling slowly until they reveal a small plastic bag in his hand.Â
âFirst timeâs on the house.â
You have no idea what it is exactly, but your eyes widen. This is new territory for you, and all the possibilities it opens up are suddenly invading your mind. As if on auto-pilot, you reach for the place where you keep your money, the sound of the door opening completely lost on you.
A hand closes around your bicep, pulling you aside with a quick yank of an arm.
âShe isnât interested, pal.âÂ
Itâs another man, who effortlessly tucks you half behind him. Before you can protest beyond an indignant huff, thereâs a sound, like a sword being unsheathed, and you catch a flash of red, and of knives. Frowning, you try to get a better look, but your view is obscured by the manâs shoulder. The hooded man seems undeterred, regarding the weapons with the same sickening grin, before leaving the bathroom, muttering something that you donât understand on the way out. The sword sound returns, the man twists around, andâ
âLogan?â you slur in disbelief.Â
Logan doesnât reply, instead takes hold of your arm again, making you follow him out of the bathroom. There he stops the two of you to murmur something to a woman wearing the same clothes as him, before tugging you along again. Youâre stumbling after him on account of his pace and the iron grip he has on you as he leads you to the back door. He pushes it open with enough force to make the hinges creak, a gust of wind blowing in your face. Itâs a contrast to go from the crowded, sweaty club to the silent, cold back-alley where tall brick walls and employee cars cage you in. You shake your arm and Loganâs grip loosens â another and he lets you go.
âHow did you even findââ You cut yourself off, eyes widening, âOh, my god, are you following me?â
Logan scoffs, narrowing his eyes. âOh, please, do you think I have time to follow you around all day?â
âYouâre here, arenât you? You and your fuckingâŠ,â you gesture wildly into the air at him, âsavior complex.â
âI work here,â he growls. When you give him a look, he adds, âItâs temporary. âSides, me and my savior complex are the reason that creep isnât selling god knows what to you in that bathroom right now!â His voice is a roar, echoing off the walls around you.
âMaybe I wanted that creep to sell god knows what to me in that bathroom,â you say, doing a poor impression of his voice, before turning and walking away from him.
Logan sighs. âWhere are you going?â
âIâm leaving.â
âAnd then what, huh?â
âI donât fucking know, Logan,â you say, twisting around to face him again, arms spread out by your side. âFigure out a new way out of this.â
âYeah? Third timeâs the charm?â
âWhy do you even care, huh? You donât even know me,â you say. Almost immediately, you let out a bitter laugh as your own words hit your ears, a sad realization dawning on you. âBut I guess that makes two of us.â
Itâs not like you expected him to, but he doesnât answer.
âYou know I used to like myself? I used to smile, I used to have friends, I used to be more sober than drunk. But this feeling, it takes⊠everything.â You raise a fist, hold it to the center of your chest. âIt takes everything I love, pushes away everyone I love, including myself. It eats me up, and wants more and more, until Iâm something Iâm not and until Iâm so far away from that version of myself, my old self, that it feels easier to just fuckingââ you pause with a wet gasp for air.
âDestroy yourself,â Logan finishes for you.
Your chest heaves, an unshed tear clings to your lash line. âExactly.â
He takes a step closer to you. âLet me take you home,â he says, voice gentle.Â
You should hate the implications of that gentleness, but you donât. In your drunk state of mind, itâs easier to admit itâs nice that someone understands, that someoneâs there to stop you from going too farâŠÂ
Tomorrow, when some of your pragmatism returns, youâll deny this embarrassing thought ever occurred; if relying on other people worked, it would have worked a long time ago, and you wouldnât be standing here with him. If youâre lucky, you might even forget this entirely, and wake up with a hangover that youâll enjoy a little too much because it feels like a punishmentâ
âWhat about your job?â you ask with a sniff.
Loganâs palm finds the space between your shoulder blades with a gentle push, the warmth of it seeping in through your clothes, and he leads you to his truck. âTheyâll manage without me.â
â â â â â
When you wake, your world is tilted sideways, a blanket is pulled up to your chin and there's a pillow under your head. Theyâre not your own; the blanket is itchy and the pillowâs too small. When you try to move your legs, they stick uncomfortably to the material below them, and you realize youâre on a leather couch. You squint at the light that comes in from a window across from youâ
âMorninâ, sunshine.â
The voice startles you, eyes shifting to focus on the source: A man lying on his front on the floor, chin in his hands as he kicks his feet back and forth in the air.Â
âWish I could say itâs a pleasure, but it hasnât been very pleasurable. Youâve been barfing up the place since the moment you stepped inside. Kept poor Al up all night. Her ears are sensitive,â he adds with a whisper. âBut donât worry, she left about an hour ago.â
âWho are you?â you slur, blinking against the light.
âLogan.â He sighs when you frown. âI know, not how you remember. This is what I look like during the day; blessed with incredible good looks at night and, well,â he gestures at his face thatâs covered in scars, "this, during the day. Bit of a reverse Princess Fiona situationââ
âCut it out, Wade,â comes the sharp protest from next to you. With considerable effort, you turn your head and see the actual Logan, slumped back in a recliner next to the couch, rubbing some sleep out of his eyes while motioning for the other man to go.
âIâll let you two talk.â Wade winks.
Logan stands when Wade does, walking from your field of view. Your head is scrambling to catch up, trying to piece together what happened last night, but only coming up with bits and pieces.
âHow are you feeling?â Logan asks as he makes his way back to you, handing you a glass of water.
You flinch when the front door closes behind Wade with a bang, before taking the glass from Logan and taking a few thankful sips. âLike shit.â
âYeah,â is all he says as he sits back down.
âWhatââ
âYou fell asleep in the car. Didnât know where to take you, figured the couch was the safest place.â
âOhâŠ,â you say, voice small.Â
You try not to think about being so wasted that you had to be carried out of Loganâs car, or about what Wade said earlier about the things that happened as soon as you stepped inside the apartment. During your silence, Loganâs fingers fiddle with the armrest, before his hand balls into a fist, and it unlocks something in your hazy memory.
âI have the weirdest memory of you having⊠a sword?â
You watch as Loganâs lips purse in amusement. His tongue rolls around in his mouth, seemingly contemplating something, before saying, âYou probably saw these.â He holds up his fist, flexing his forearm before three blades shoot from between his knuckles like claws, accompanied by a shing!
âJesus fucking Christ,â you startle, spilling some water on your blanket. Your head spins with your hangover and the bizarity of the situation. If it didnât sound so much like how it did in your memory, you might think you were still drunk.Â
Thereâs so many things you want to ask, your intrigue almost winning out over your hangover until the sharp start of a headache gives you pause. Instead, you take another sip of water before rubbing your temple.
âItâs a story for another time,â Logan says, like he can read your mind, and you want to ask him that, too. His claws retreat, the cuts they leave between his knuckles immediately smoothing over until theyâre gone. âI gotta go check if I still have a job.â
The words make you feel warm all over, the memory of your back-alley conversation coming back in full force. The thought of the things you admitted to him and that you put him in the position that he had to risk his job for you make you feel even warmer, your gaze no doubt laced with embarrassment and worry when you look at him.
ââS not your fault,â Logan assures, standing and fishing his car key from the pocket of his jeans. âYou donât have to rush but um, make sure you close the door behind you on the way out. Gets jammed sometimes.â
âYeah, okay,â you say, watching as he makes his way to the front door.Â
He takes a final glance at you over his shoulder, then leaves, accompanied by a bang.
THE PUZZLE
It takes you a little over a week to muster up the courage to go back. Admittedly, your courage is aided by another, foreign feeling. You donât have a name for it yet, or maybe youâre afraid to call it what it is, but somewhere along the week, you became consumed with the thought that feeling like you did wasnât all there was. That there is something beyond this.Â
Perhaps foreign wasnât the right way to describe it, because it is something youâve felt before â itâs just been long dormant. The last time, it lasted about a month before it all came crashing down, and you swore you wouldnât fall for it again, but you canât help it. The feelingâs too sweet, and the idea that thereâs still some baser instinct willing you to keep fighting for yourself makes you feel like the sun is shining on you.Â
So yeah, maybe youâre just having one of your good weeks, where the thing sleeps â quiet while its presence still simmers. But you figured nowâs your chance to take advantage of its unguarded moment.
Sneaking into the building is surprisingly easy. It helps that it isnât anything fancy. You wanted to forego the humiliation of ringing the bell and him not letting you in, but standing in front of the door now, panting after climbing three flights of stairs, you donât know if this is much better.Â
Just when youâre about to knock, the door swings open. In the opening, Logan has one arm in his jacket, head twisted to watch the other thatâs caught halfway in the sleeve. It takes him almost bumping into you to realize your presence. âShit, sorry.â He steadies himself with a hand on your arm, the touch leaving you as fast as it appeared.
âHi,â you breathe, taking a step back to give him a little more space.
He nods in greeting. âBrings you here?â
It takes you a moment, caught off guard by him skipping over pleasantries and cutting right to the chase, despite your best intentions; itâs not that heâs ever been any different in his interactions with you.
âI came by because I, um, owe you an apology, for my behavior at your workplace and for, you knowâŠ,â you trail off, gesturing at the door.
âBarfing up the place!â comes a shout from inside the apartment.Â
Loganâs eyes close with a sigh, before he steps into the hallway with you and closes the door with a bang.Â
âThat,â you finish sheepishly. âIâm really sorry.â
He nods in acknowledgement.
âI also wanted to ask, um, if you want to come with me to get a coffee. To make it up to you.â
Logan just looks at you, the leather of his jacket creaking as he crosses his thick arms in front of his chest. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly. You hate how he somehow can see right through you, how he makes you elaborate, and honest.
âI want to quit drinking,â you say, fiddling with the sleeve of your coat. âIt doesnât make me better, and when I donât do it I finally feel a little⊠normal. Maybe coffeeâs technically just as bad, but itâs the only thing thatâs currently acting like⊠like a reverse gateway drink? And I feel like youâre the only person I know that might get that feeling ofââ
âI do,â Logan cuts in, voice softer than before â assuring. His arms drop from where theyâre crossed and he starts making his way to the stairs. âLetâs go.â
â â â â â
You donât know this coffee place, and from the way he looks around and shifts around in a chair that might be a bit too small for him, neither does Logan. Main reason you picked it is because the booths remind you a little too much of a bar â and you like the tall windows. The coffeeâs pretty decent.
âDid they fire you?â you ask, picking at a loose corner of one of the laminated menus before setting it back in its holder.
âBoss commended me for helping a customer, but not so much for leaving before my shift ended,â Logan replies. âGot off with a warning.â
âIâm sorry.â
âSaid that already, and I accepted,â he says. When he takes a sip of the coffee, he winces. âNo need to worry about it anymore, okay? I would do it again.â
You nod, folding your hands around the warm cup in front of you.
âBut, um, Wade hasnât shut up about⊠the incident.â Thereâs a different tone to his voice, like heâs trying to lighten the mood. âHis words.â
âYou know, I kind of get the feeling that Wade doesnât shut up about a lot of things.â It comes out a little meaner than you intend, but it makes Logan laugh and finally slump back in his chair a little.Â
âYouâre a quick study.â
Offering him a short smile in return, you continue with the other real reason you came to see him, before you chicken out. âI also stopped by because I wanted to, uh⊠because I realized I never really⊠I never⊠I never thanked you, for um⊠Andââ
With a shake of his head, Logan sits upright. âYâdonâtââ
To your horror, your eyes brim with tears, âLogan, Iâm supposed to be deadââ
âSo am I,â he counters. He lets the words hang between the two of you for a moment, until you look at him, before he continues, âIâve been where you are. Past it, even.â
You donât know what to say to that, if the lump in your throat will even permit you to speak, but itâs impossible to look away from him. Loganâs gaze is piercing, frown ever present, but itâs not from anger. Instead, itâs like heâs searching for something, the right thing, to say. The silence doesnât bother you; if anything, it makes his words seem more genuine when he does speak,
âI had someone who was annoying enough to not give up on me when I could really use it. If getting a coffee with you thatâs, franklyâŠ,â he makes a face as he pauses, âa horrible excuse for a coffee, helps⊠I can do that. I want to do that.â
The corner of your mouth lifts as you blink away your tears. âWas it Wade?â
Logan lets out a chuckle, and itâs honest â fond. âYeah.â
âFigured,â you say. âHow did you meet him?â
Across from you, Logan stills. You swallow thickly, adjusting yourself in your chair. Itâs an innocent question, but maybe it isnât something heâd like to revisit right now. Loganâs mug squeaks when he grips it tighter, and he looks at you with something like defeatâÂ
It makes you deflate. This must be what you looked like the night you metâŠ
Thereâs no way to have prepared for what he tells you next: That he came from another timeline about three months ago, that he and Wade saved this one from being destroyed and almost got killed in the process, that he has nothing to go back to after the death of his team, so he stayed here.Â
Thereâs hesitation in it, like he isnât telling you the whole story, though you donât comment on it. He doesnât owe you anything and youâre too busy putting all the pieces in the Logan-shaped puzzle in your mind together; his words and actions towards you are starting to make more and more sense.
âItâs a very brave thing the two of you did,â you say when heâs finished.
âHmm, it was all Wade,â Logan muses. âHe did it all for the people he cares about.â
âIâm sure you would have done the same if you were in his place.â
At that, he lets out a dry laugh with absolutely no joy behind it. âDo me a favor, donât put me on a pedestal.â
You frown, but before you can comment, he stands. A knot forms in your stomach, worried youâve offended him, but he clears up the uncertainty immediately.
âI gotta go but um, Wadeâs friendsâ,â he stops himself, correcting, âour friends are coming over to watch a movie, next week, 7:30. I have no idea what crap theyâre going to be watching but⊠itâs nice. Itâll be nice to be around good people.â Logan doesnât wait for your answer, simply takes his wallet from his pocket and leaves enough money to cover the bill.
âWait, no, I invited you,â you protest. âI shouldââ
âYou can pay next time.âÂ
When you nod, he says his goodbyes with a jerk of his head and makes his way to the door.
â â â â â
You see Logan two more times for coffee that week. He never lets you pay.
THE PANTRY
ââbut itâs the best one!â Wade protests, DVD in hand.
âThey fly a car into space, Wade,â Laura sighs.
âLaunched off a jet,â he corrects. Like it helps.
You cover your mouth with the back of your hand, hiding the smile that appears at everyoneâs babbling. Unbeknownst to you, you had found yourself invited to a double feature night, with Wade as the self proclaimed DVDJ. The credits had barely started rolling on A Good Day To Die Hard, or Wade had another DVD at the ready. It was met with the same amount of enthusiasm as when he presented the first.
It hadnât been easy to make yourself go to this tonight. On your way, youâd thought of turning around at almost every step. Of course, that was all before you knew it would be this fun, and that youâd be relieved you hadnât canceled last minute. Even meeting everyone hadnât been as bad as you feared.Â
Thereâs Peter, Wadeâs friend. Ellie, another one of Wadeâs friends. Yukio, Ellieâs girlfriend. Laura, Loganâs daughter. Mary Puppins, Wadeâs small, disgusting but adorable dog, who had greeted you with equal amounts saliva and enthusiasm, before falling asleep next to the TV, completely unbothered by the commotion. Unlike Althea, Logan and Wadeâs blind roommate, who had taken one listen to the gaggle of voices and left. The elusive Vanessa, Wadeâs ex-but-we-might-get-back-together you heard about a couple times, wasnât there.
Logan had been right, it was nice to be surrounded by good people. Especially good people who were⊠unconventional. It made joining them less complicated, less performative, and as the evening progressed it made you a participant instead of a silent observer. Wade even called you, âgood for the group dynamic,â and it made you beam with pride.
âDonât they have like, rockets attached to the car?â Ellie questions, to which Yukioâs eyebrows knit together.
âExactly!â Wade exclaims, mistaking her confusion for enthusiasm. âCitizen Kane wishes.â
Thereâs more grumbling from everyone when Wade pops the DVD into the player, and he grumbles something back about how Logan would back him up if he wasnât in the bathroom because he, quote unquote, goes way back with some of these dudes.
Youâre pretty sure heâs the only one who knows what heâs even talking about.
An empty bowl of popcorn rests in your lap, and as you put it on the table, you notice how sticky and greasy your fingers and palms are. When the opening credits begin to roll, you get up to wash your hands, assuring Wade he doesnât need to pause the movie before you go.
The apartmentâs small, so it isnât far to the kitchen, but itâs nice to stretch your legs. You can still hear the sounds from movie night; tell-tale action movie music, comments of disbelief and Wade shutting them down. Theyâre more faint, though, more so when you turn the tap on and wash your hands.
Right as youâre finished, you hear a dull thud. You turn the water off, head tilted and at attention while you dry your hands. Thereâs another sound, like a muffled groan. Itâs coming from the pantry, you realize, noting that the door is slightly ajar. Thereâs a shing! sound followed by a distressed grunt, and before you know it youâre walking over, wrapping your fingers around the door to pull it openâ
Youâre not sure what it was you were expecting, but it wasnât this. Loganâs sitting on the floor, uncharacteristically small, curled up against one of the walls. His chest is heaving, shoulders all but going up to his ears with how heâs trying to draw in breaths. Next to him, his fist is balled against the hardwood, claws buried in the floor.
Fuck.
Dropping to your knees, you wedge yourself between his. âItâs okay, youâre having a panic attack,â you explain, your hands landing on his shoulders with a light shake. âYou need to breathe. Iâll help you, just look at me.â
Loganâs head stays tipped down, a deep, rattling breath sailing from his mouth as he curls further in on himself.
âHey!â you say sharply, cupping his jaw with two hands and tilting his face up, âLook at me.âÂ
Loganâs eyes are wet when they meet yours, moving frantically as they search your face, tears spilling over when he blinks. Something changes in his gaze, like he finally sees itâs you, and his bottom lip begins to tremble. His hand lifts from where itâs buried in the floor, clutching onto your wrist like a lifeline.
âBreathe,â you instruct, trying not to flinch at the sharp claws in front of you. He doesnât catch on immediately, so you overdo the purse of your lips when you blow out a breath before exaggerating an inhale through your nose, showing him what to do. It starts off shaky, a fresh set of tears falling from Loganâs eyes as he does as you instruct, but after a couple of times you find a rhythm together. The silver between his knuckles slowly disappears. âThere you go, good job. Keep going.â
You sit like that, until the wild shift of his eyes stops, his pulse steadies beneath your fingertips, and eventually his eyes close with a deep exhale. His grip on you loosens and you take it as your cue to let go of him, slumping back against the wall opposite him with a sigh of relief. The both of you catch your breath, sitting together in silence until Logan breaks it.
âCame outta nowhere⊠suddenly I was back there⊠letting them down.â
âIt caught you off guard, it happensââ
âI let them get killed,â he says, voice raw. âThey were likeâ They were my family, they trusted me to be there for them and I⊠I was too caught up in my own bullshit. I should have been with them, I should be dead with them.â
Loganâs tears still come, but the words almost sound reverent; as if saying them out loud just to punish himself with his own shortcomings is a balm. Heâs talking about his team from there, you realize, and something clicks. All this time, you thought this was about him being unable to die due to his mutation, but itâs more than that. Itâs shame, remorse, grief, survivorâs guilt, all wrapped into one.
Itâs the final piece of your mind puzzle that makes his picture appear.
âHowâ How can I ever atone for that?â he asks. âHow can I everââ
âLogan, you can't change your past,â you interrupt carefully. âYou made your choices and they made theirs, and you honored them byâ byâŠstepping up to the task, by doing what you did with Wade.â
âWhat if it wasnât enough?â
âWhat if it was?â you counter. Your hand finds his knee with a squeeze, before adding, âYou did what they would have done. And now you⊠you need to allow yourself to honor their memory without feeling like you have to destroy yourself to do it. You deserve that.â
Logan blinks at you, eyes still glossy. He looks devastated yet calmer than before, like the emotion is still there, but displaced. For a good while, you sit with him like that while his sniffles lessen and his breathing returns to normal⊠until thereâs a loud explosion coming from the living room. Itâs followed by cheers and hollers, and youâre both suddenly reminded of where you are.Â
âCâmon,â you say, patting Loganâs knee before using it as leverage to haul yourself up with a groan. You give him room by holding the door open for him. âBetter get back before we miss the good stuff.â
Still on the floor, Logan exhales heavily. âThink this was the good stuff.â
â â â â â
Three weeks later, on your way to your third movie night, you catch Wade and Vanessa making out in the building hallway.Â
It stops you dead in your tracks and makes for an awkward meeting with Wadeâs mystery woman, who is beautiful but very direct when she asks you what the fuck youâre staring at. Wade certainly has a type when it comes to the company he keeps⊠He quickly shushes the situation, introducing the two of you, and it immediately makes Vanessaâs expression twist into recognition.Â
âNice to meet you,â she says, followed by an apologetic smile.Â
You respond in kind.Â
When Wade tugs at her jacket impatiently, they brush past you and make their way to the exit. âSee you around!â she throws over her shoulder.
A grin forms on your lips, realizing what you just witnessed, and you race up the stairs. With Wade gone, youâre not sure if there will be a movie, but at least you have gossip to share with your friends.
THE MEETING
April flies by, rolls into May, and thingâs are⊠okay.
With some help, you find a therapist. Itâs good, sheâs good, but itâs difficult to be confronted with things that are painful, week after week, and to keep reminding yourself itâs all part of the process youâre going through.
Last week, after a particularly difficult session, youâd left her office being auto-piloted by dark feelings, like they knew exactly when to strike. You had turned corners and crossed streets, wandering as you stewed on everything youâd discussed â like your mind was playing a constant loop of your most painful moments. It was a small miracle you had heard your phone, and that you had the presence of mind to thumb the green button.
Youâd answered without saying a word.
âGot any plans?â Logan had asked on the other side of the line.
âNo,â youâd replied, coming back to yourself a little bit at the sound of his voice.
âAlâs making her meatballs â she and Wade canât agree on if theyâre famous or infamous. Thought you might like to come. If it tastes like shit, weâll order in.â
Youâd hummed, managing to ask, âWhat time?â
It had stayed quiet on the other end, and thatâs how youâd known he was onto you, could picture the pinch of his brows, his lips forming a thin line. For the first time, you welcomed itâwanted so badly to reach through the phone, shake his shoulders, ask for his help and accept it, like he had done with you weeks ago.Â
âSounds to me like now might be good.â
âYeah,â you had agreed, the constricting tightness in your chest easing up. âYeah, Iâll be there soon.â Youâd released a shuddering breath, ear still pressed to the phone as you took in your surroundings before you auto-piloted yourself to a different destination.Â
âLogan?â
âStill here.â
âThank you for calling.â
ââcourse. Get here soon, Iâll stay on the phone.â
The afternoon had ended with Logan and yourself allowing Althea to boss you around in the small apartmentâs kitchen, rolling meatballs, sharing stories â Altheaâs recollection of something that happened to her in her 20s that involved her stealing a police horse while wearing nothing but a thong, made you cry from laughing.
The meatballs were the best you ever had, though you couldnât be sure if they actually were, or if it was just the taste of the moment that was better than anything had been that day.Â
Sometime after dinner, Logan had nudged your shoulder to show you a little plastic chip. He flashed it at you long enough that you could read the words one month, before he pocketed it again. Then he suggested you come with him next week.Â
âI thought it was bullshit too, but it helps,â heâd explained. âFigured I couldnât continue to drink whatever that stuff is you call coffee to⊠avoid my problems.â
You contemplated his suggestion. Things were going well for you in that regard, but your therapist had also recommended you go to one of these things, even if it was just for the community aspect of it. It just made it so⊠official. Your problems, but most of all, your recovery. You werenât good at keeping promises to yourself, and this felt like a big commitment. Not to mention the speeches and other peopleâs problems...
But as Logan told you more about it, the location, how it had been for him, you sensed something else between the lines: He wasnât just asking for you, he was also asking for himself. Maybe⊠this was his way of telling you he needed some support.Â
Thatâs how you find yourself inside a high school gymnasium a week later. Itâs as gloomy as you expected. Slick floors, gray fold-out chairs set in neat rows, buzzing lights in a high ceiling, and a slightly raised podium with a whiteboard that reads a welcome message in capital letters.Â
Unsure of what to do, you follow Logan as he weaves through the crowd to find a seat. As you do, it strikes you that thereâs a pretty even distribution of people, with many genders, ages and lifestyles represented. Eventually you take a seat; not quite in the back, but definitely not in the front.Â
The whole thing goes by in a blur, but where you expected to be overwhelmed, you feel⊠connected. Here you are, surrounded by people with different backgrounds, different lives, but all their stories have something you can relate to. Where you thought addiction was the common denominator, itâs actually the desire to turn your lives around that unites you the most.
âBefore we end the night I want to circle back to last week, when we spoke about goals, or things we want to work towards,â says the woman leading the meeting â youâre ashamed to admit you already forgot her name. âDoes anyone want to share something about that?â
It takes a lot to hide your surprise when Logan raises his hand.Â
âLogan! Come on up!â She sounds as surprised as you feel, beckoning him to her.
The plastic chair he sits on creaks when he stands and his boots squeak against the shiny floor as he does as she asks. He looks so out of place on a podium; both larger than life behind the lectern and lost to the space of the stage. He clears his throat as he retrieves a paper from his pocket and unfolds it while his eyes scan the room until they land on yours. You give him a little nod of encouragement, and it kicks him into gear.
âNot good at this stuff, so Iâm going to keep it brief,â he starts.Â
It earns him a chuckle or two from the other attendees, and you can tell he doesnât expect it when he looks up from his paper. Your hands clasp together with nerves as you watch him divide his weight from one leg to another, before focussing his gaze back down.
âMy life has changed a lot over the past few months. For the first time in a long time, itâs not all bad. Coming here has been good. Iâm starting to feel more like I did beforeââÂ
He stops his monotonous droning with a frustrated sigh, stuffing the piece of paper in his pocket and sounding considerably more lively after.Â
âI have people I care about again, and um, it scares me. âCause I donât want to let them down, and every day I feel like I will because of all of my⊠past shit.â He pauses and swallows hard before he continues, âThey show me so much kindness and understanding, that⊠that even though itâs fucking hard, I want to be able to see myself the way they see me. And allow them to care about me without feeling like I⊠have to earn it all the time, without destroying myself to do it.âÂ
You exhale for what feels like the first time in an eternity.
âSo, thatâs what Iâm currently working on.â Logan sighs. âThatâs it. Thank you.â
A small applause follows, and you quickly unclasp your hands to join in.
Your palms hurt after.
â â â â â
âIt was really nice, what you said in there,â you say, fingers caressing a little plastic chip of your own that you keep safe in your coat pocket. You havenât felt proud of yourself in a while, but tonight you do.
The evening is nice, the setting sun bathing the city in hues of orange and pink. Your pace is slow and comfortable, your arm occasionally brushing Loganâs when you make room for all the other pedestrians. You didnât plan on him walking you home, but he insisted and you enjoy the company â it makes you a little sad when you turn onto your street.
Logan scoffs in reply.Â
âIâm being serious,â you say, knocking your elbow against his arm on purpose now. âIt was nice for people to hear a guy like you say those things. Iâm proud of you.â
You swear he blushes. âA guy like me, huh?â he asks, almost amused.
Itâs your turn to scoff. âYou know what I mean.âÂ
âA mutant?â He looks at you from the corner of his eye.
âNo,â you say, because itâs not what you meant, but the hint of seriousness in his voice and the fact heâs not entirely wrong make you track back. âWell, maybe that, too, but I meant someone who looks like you, allowing themselves to be vulnerable. Sets a nice example.â
Logan doesnât shoot your comments down like you expect. Instead, he seems to consider your words, maybe he even silently accepts the compliment. âThink you have some things to say that could set a nice example, too.â
âMaybe next time.â
During the comfortable silence that follows, youâre reminded of something youâve been considering for weeks now. You hadnât paid much attention to it since that night, but as you worked through the feelings that got you to that point, the question kept coming back.
âIâve been wondering something,â you begin. âThe night we met... What were you doing at the lookout?â
Logan glances at you, contemplating the question. âWhen I had just, um, gotten here, it wasnât always easy to adjust, you know? So I went to all these places that I knew from back there, to ground myself, to see that things may be different, but that theyâre not that different.â
âYou went there on your side?â
He hums.
âBy yourself?â
He hums again.
âDid youâŠâ You hesitate to finish your sentence, both because youâre not sure if you have any right to ask and because youâve reached your building. You stop walking, and Logan follows your lead.Â
âNo, no, no, I⊠I canât explain it, itâs just one of those places I was always drawn to,â Logan says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans with a shrug. His brows furrow suddenly, his mind seemingly lost in something before his eyes flick back to yours. âThink it took me coming over here to find reason in it.â
Itâs a thought thatâs equal parts sad and lovely.Â
The silence that follows hangs between you, thick with something you canât place, but Logan doesnât look away from you, eyes scanning your face before they land back on yours. You canât help thinking that maybe this is how he does it, and the question comes out before you can help it,
âIs mind reading part of the X-Gene thing?â
His eyes widen â amusement or surprise, you canât say. âIt can be.âÂ
âCan you do it?â
âNo,â he says. âAnd itâs for the best, fucking hurts when you canât control it.â Then the start of a smile begins to form on his lips. ââsides, I donât know if I would have a lot of⊠consideration for peopleâs boundaries.â
It makes you chuckle. âRight. Not to mention some minds are probably a lot â imagine reading Wadeâs mind.â
âHurts to even imagine,â Logan says, gesturing for you to be quiet as he winces, but a smile breaks through anyway. When your shared laughter dies down, he jerks his chin at the building behind you, âThis your place?â
âWhaâ?â Going home long forgotten in the moment, you glance over your shoulder. âOh! Yes.â
âAll right,â he nods. âSee you next week?â
âDefinitely,â you reply.
âOh,â Logan says right before you turn around. âBring coffee? You owe me.â
You make a face at him. âYou donât have toâ Iâll get you something else, I know you donât like it.â
âI like it when I drink it with you.â
Itâs incredibly hard to hide your grin. âOkay, Iâll bring coffee. See you next week, Logan.â
âSee you.âÂ
He lingers, watching you climb the steps, waiting until the door opens after you turn your key in the lock. Itâs not until you close the door, when you can only make out his silhouette through the patterned glass window in it, that he walks off.
THE SUMMER
Walking back from a very successful job interview, you find yourself on your way to your friends with a big, plastic bottle of coke under your arm. Itâs a warm feeling to know that youâll soon have a job that suits you and that you have people to celebrate with; you look forward to seeing them and sharing this with them.
Youâre invited inside with open arms, tight hugs, exclaimed praise and congratulations, and it makes you giddy, a feeling so foreign that you wish you could bottle it up right this instant. With a grin, you shake the Coca Cola bottle, before twisting the cap off. You let out an excited shout as you watch the foam shoot out from the top, bubbles and dark liquid pulsing down the neck of the bottle as cheers surround you.
Itâs not champagne, but Althea grumbles about the soda ruining her floors, Wade gets mismatched glasses from the cupboard, and Logan clinks his glass to yours and tells you heâs proud of you.
Itâs way better than champagne.
â â â â â
Youâre in serious, desperate need of a new placeâŠÂ
The August heat is relentless, and the entire buildingâs AC isnât working. Itâs with considerable effort that you manage to make your way to your friendsâ place, the promise of a constant, cold stream of wind the only thing that keeps you going. But when the front door opens, it isnât with the welcoming, cool waft of air you were hoping for. Instead, thereâs no temperature change, only Wade in his underwear.
âNo.â Itâs a little embarrassing how you literally pout, but these are desperate times. âHere, too?â
âIf it wasnât this fucking hot Iâd be offended by that greeting.â He sighs. âCome in.â
Slightly defeated, you shuffle past the threshold, while Wade lingers. Mary Puppins trots by, an ice-pack wrapped in a towel secured on her back, and you catch a glimpse of Logan exiting the bedroom. Heâs in black shorts and a ribbed, sleeveless shirt, and with a desperate groan, he lets himself fall back into the recliner in the living room.Â
âTried everything, thereâs no fixing that fucking thing.â
Wade makes a face, âListen, I know what youâre thinking: Wadeâs in his underwear, Loganâs emerging from the bedroom⊠But we didnât fuck, itâs not that kind of stââ
âWho are you talking to?â you ask from behind him, glancing over his shoulder into the empty hallway.
âNo oneâYou!â The door closes with a bang.
Confused, you walk further into the apartment. âWell, telling me you didnât is just going to make me think that you did.â Wade darts past you and takes a seat on the couch, but you hang back and lean against the kitchen table to avoid sitting on leather.
Wade suddenly turns to face you. âDid I ever tell you about our time in The Void?â
âWade,â Logan warns.
Wadeâs eyes are sparkling with mischief and you canât deny how fun it is to indulge the way he pushes Loganâs buttons. Itâs a good distraction from how youâre drenched in sweat. And youâre actually curious.
You play your part, letting out a faux-scandalised gasp. âDid you..?â
âOh, yeah, baby. Wolverine goes both ways. All the ways, really.â He grins. âWeâre so alike.â
âShut up. Both of you.â Logan groans, lacking any real threat as he adjusts in his seat and wipes some sweat off his brow. âItâs too fucking hot to be annoyed.â
It isnât lost on you he doesnât deny a thing.
â â â â â
Apartments look weird with nothing in them.
Itâs what crossed your mind after you finished packing up your place three days ago, and it crosses your mind now as you look into the open space of your new one from the doorway. Itâs a pleasant, late summer day; perfect weather to move, which was on your schedule for today.
âIncoming!â comes from behind you, followed by quick, heavy steps.
You jump aside as Ellie sails through the door, carefully setting a big box marked âKitchenâ down in its designated area, followed by Logan who is balancing three boxes at once. After a beat, Yukio follows, holding a single table lamp in her hand. It takes some effort not to laugh, not just because of how funny it looks, but also because you relate; after all the exhausting late nights you pulled packing up, thatâs also the kind of energy youâre bringing to this.
Itâs nice of them to help, and instead of shoving that feeling away in fear, you allow yourself to bask in it. You donât get long, however, because more help has just arrived.
Wade. With Vanessa. Hands interlocked.
It draws everyoneâs eyes to the doorway. Wade looks almost bashful, and it baffles you how someone who can say the most insane things unprompted, all without batting an eye, could blush while holding hands with a girl he likes. To his credit, he shakes it off quickly.
âAll right, all right,â he says. âStop ogling me and my girlfriend and get back to work everyone!â
â â â â â
âSo it was like an experiment?â you ask, stirring the pot on your stove before taking a careful bite of food off your wooden spoon.
Tonightâs your first night hosting at your new place â Family Dinner, Wade had dubbed it. With fall setting in, you had an idea of what to make, but it still made you nervous to have everyone in your space. Logan saw right through you, offering to come over early to help you prepare.Â
Once he had arrived, it hadnât taken long for him to admit he wasnât much of a cook, so he mainly chopped vegetables as you chatted; you about your new place, Logan about his new job as a boxing instructor, Laura going off to college. You donât remember exactly how the subject of his adamantium came up, but he was telling you freely about it.
âThey needed someone who could regenerate fast enough to bond with it,â he explains. âI was in a dark place. Figured I didnât have anything to lose if it didnât work.â
You nod in understanding. âDo you⊠remember much about it?â You put your spoon down, then put the lid back on the pan.Â
Loganâs knife stops hitting the cutting board. âYeah, I⊠I remember every second of it.â
You look at him then. His eyes are still cast down at his task. Unsure of what to say, you think about what youâd want to hear, and you find it might be best to say nothing at all. Instead, your hand finds his shoulder. Loganâs head turns to you, and you feel like the look you share is more important than anything you couldâve told him. His hand covers yours with an appreciative squeeze.Â
âBut Iâm trying to leave that there so I can focus on remembering what happens to me here.â As soon as heâs said it, his hand quickly slips off yours, adding, in a rush, âHere in this timeline, I mean.âÂ
You smile at him, but a strange feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. âThat sounds like a great idea.â
â â â â â
âI need your help with something,â you say, balancing your phone between your ear and your shoulder while you turn a birthday card over in your hand. Deciding you donât like it, you throw it back on the pile of cards and continue your grocery shopping.
âJust say the word,â comes Loganâs reply from the other end.
âI need you to steal something out of the apartment for me.â Thereâs a silence, and you purposely let the feeling of trepidation linger.
âAm gonna need you to say a little more than just that.â
You laugh, âWadeâs been talking about getting a little frame for his polaroid. You know, the polaroid that you held on to for him in The Void, after the two of you fuââ
âYes, I know the one,â he interjects with a huff. He pauses, sighs, then says, âConsider it done.â
THE PARTY
âThere you are!â Wade shouts after he opens the door. He pulls you into a hug that you return with a wide smile. Over his shoulder, you see that the apartmentâs crowded, bustling with people who are there for his birthday party.
âI got you something,â you say, offering the small package to him after you step inside and hang up your coat.
âWouldnât have let you in if you hadnât,â he admits as he closes the door behind you with a bang. Wade takes the package from your hand, shaking it next to his ear but hearing it make no sound in response. âIs it a cock ring?â
You canât help but laugh at that. âUnfortunately, they were all sold out.â
âThey always are,â he says, making a disappointed face. Bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you watch as he tears at the wrapping paper to reveal his gift. He makes another face when he sees it. âWell, now I feel like an asshole. This is really nice.â
âLogan helped me kidnap it,â you explain, pointing at the picture. âAnd the little red hearts on the frame, well, theyâre your color, but they also reminded me of how much you care about people.â
When he looks at you after, itâs with genuine emotion⊠but Wade is Wade. âNever thought Iâd say this, but Iâm kind of happy you walked in here barfing up the place.â
A strange mix of embarrassment and gratitude claws its way up your neck. âThank you.â
âWe should take a new one,â he decides suddenly, pointing at the picture. âYou both should be in it.â His head turns, watching as Logan approaches the two of you. âBut letâs be realistic, his shoulders are so broad he wouldnât even fit in the frame, much less his bulââ
âStop talking about my dick, Wade,â Logan snaps.
âI was saying only good things! Jeez, so sensitiveâŠâ Wade turns, putting the picture on the kitchen table behind him where it joins all the other gifts.
âDid he like it?â Logan asks, voice low.
âYeah,â you smile.
âGood,â he replies. âWas a nice idea.â
You eye all the other gifts, some clearer who they are from than others. âWhat did you get him?â
The corner of Loganâs mouth lifts as he points at a roll of silver duct tape with a small red bow on top, making you fix them both with a confused look.
âItâs an inside joke,â Logan shrugs.
Wadeâs eyes sparkle, but in a rare turn of events, he doesnât elaborate, only adds, âItâs classified. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.âÂ
âAnd I have top level clearance, lieutenant,â you reply. You exhale through your nose in an amused laugh when Wade makes a surprised face that indicates youâve gotten the reference. âWhat, you thought a Tom Cruise impression could save you?â
âNo,â he grins, and as if on cue, the doorbell rings, âbut that can. Birthday Boy duty calls, but I want it on record that I could do Top Gun, easily, while Tom would never be able to pull off Deadpool.â
â â â â â
The party settles into something comfortable, soft music in the background of lively chatter. Yukio has just finished telling you about a Professor Layton cosplay sheâs doing when you excuse yourself, both your glass and your social battery empty enough to look for a momentary out. Finding your way through the crowd, you make it to the kitchen, filling your glass with water and taking a few sips.Â
While you do, the music suddenly gets louder, taking over for the steady chatter. You turn around, leaning back against the kitchen counter, and watch as Wade drags Vanessa to the middle of the apartment. People make room for them, exchanging looks while Wade wraps his arm around her waist, takes her hand in his and begins dancing with her. With a laugh, she slaps him on the chest, before settling into his embrace anyway. Some follow their lead, but your eyes stay glued to them. Wade spins Vanessa under his arm, the smile on her face bright enough to light up the entire room. In return, he looks at her with so much adoration heâs almost glowing himself. It fills you with warmth to see the both of them so happy.
It hits you how you havenât thought about this in a while. Youâd decided long ago that the future wasnât something you had to worry about, but suddenly youâve arrived, like youâre in some alternate reality where your future is now, and that it would be nice to share it with someone. The sting behind your eyes catches you a little off guard; mixed feelings of time that has been taken from you, but also of time youâre getting back with the life you now have.
For a while now, youâve suspected the thing inside you is gone, that there isnât much to feed off of anymore. If it is, it would make sense that thereâs room for something else.
Wade and Vanessa make it look easy, even though you know itâs been far from easy for them. You suppose thatâs what itâs like, especially as you get older. Itâs less about big gestures, more about small ones; someone to make you laugh, to spin you under their arm, who knows how to apologize, seeks you out during your quiet momentsâ
âDo you dance?â
You startle, head turning towards the voice next to youâÂ
âLogan,â you breathe.Â
Itâs like youâre seeing him for the very first time. Heâs standing so close, almost touching you but not quite, heat radiating off of him nonetheless. The plaid shirt heâs wearing isnât even buttoned and still the fabric is pulled taunt over his shoulders and the thick of his biceps. Heâs grinning, his nose pulled up in an adorable scrunch, the corner of his eyes crinkling - you never noticed before, but thereâs a hint of green between the hazel.
It hits you so suddenly that you have to grab the counter to keep your balance. Everything thatâs been happening, that youâve been feeling, all the times something happened between the two of you that you couldnât put your finger on⊠it falls into place with a well-timed, completely unrelated question and a glance at him.
You like him.
All you can do is blink at him, dazed, unable to speak, even more so when he leans in a little closer, mistaking your silence for misunderstanding. âI mean, not that Iâ You and Wade were doing a bit earlier, itâs a reference toââ Logan straightens suddenly, his expression slipping into concern as he watches you, âAre you okay?â
You feel warm, so aware of all his attention on you that youâre afraid he might be able to see your pulse blink rapidly below the angle of your jaw. âYeah,â you reply, voice hoarse, looking away from him to blink the leftover wetness from earlier out of your eyes.Â
Anxiety claws its way into your chest, your mind coming to terms with what itâs puzzled together at such a sickening pace that thereâs an immediate knot in your stomach. The party has instantly lost its shine, and you look down at the glass in your hand, gulping down its contents. You need to be alone with your thoughts, you need to think about this beforeâ
âI gotta go,â you say in such a rush that it almost sounds like one word while you set your glass on the kitchen counter.
Loganâs eyes follow you as you push past him, grab your coat and reach for the doorknob. âWaitââ
âBye, Logan.â
THE TABLE
Once at home, you change into something more comfortable, your mind racing while you peel your party clothes off, toss your bra aside, change into an oversized shirt and plop down on the couch after.
Despite having already established that your mind was occupied with other things for a very long time, itâs laughable in hindsight that you never noticed your feelings before. Itâs not like you donât know what Loganâs like; heâs kind, funny, supportiveâŠ
âŠbroad, handsome.
Shit.
Why did you have to come to your senses? Things were better before that moment. Loganâs your friend, whom you met in the most unconventional way possible. Itâs ridiculous to want more than what you have when what you have is good. Or to think that he would want more.
But he might.
Because you may have been occupied with depression, anxiety, recovery, and everything in between, but you were there; you remember the time you spent with him, the way he looks at you, drinks the coffee you like, laughs at your jokes, seems to know exactly when to call you, seeks you out in a crowd.
But it would change everythâÂ
Actually, not a whole lot would change, if you really think about it. You already see him all the time, youâve seen the very worst of each other, overcome a great deal of hardship together, you make each other better, his friends are yourâŠÂ
friends.Â
You didnât say goodbye to Wade.
The thought comes suddenly. It was his birthday party and you didnât even say goodbye to him before you left. Youâre a terrible friend. Dread sinks into your limbs, and you reach for your phone to type out a quick, apologetic message. Just as you hit send, thereâs a series of loud knocks on the door, and it makes you freeze up where youâre seated.
âAre you in there?â a muffled voice calls out.
Itâs Logan, you realize, and a plethora of fake excuses as to why you left the party early present themselves to your mind as you quickly make your way over to the door.
The first thing you notice when you open it is that heâs dripping wet from the rain, clothes soaked through and his hair flat. Thereâs a deep furrow in his brow, and itâs different from how he usually looks; he looks actually mad.
âLogan, is everythingââ you begin, concerned, but he cuts you off by pushing past you and letting himself inside, boots stomping against the wooden floor.Â
âJesus, here you are. Whyâd you leave like that, huh? Saying goodbye, your eyes all wet. I went after you and you were fucking gone, it scared the shit out of me. Didnât see the car at the lookout, but I went to look for you anyway, and you werenât in the water, thank fuckââ
âWait, you wentââ you pause, the mental image of Logan running out into the rain to the cliffside making your eyes widen. âDid you think..?â
âYeah,â he sighs, shoulders slumping.
âShit.â Your heart is racing when you step closer to him. âNo, I wasnât⊠I donât want that anymore.â
âThen what the fuck was that all about?â
The desperation and misunderstanding in his eyes is unmistakable, and you hate that you made him feel like that. âI was just⊠I needed a moment, after seeing Wade and Vanessa like that,â you say, trying to provide yourself with more time to think, unsure if you already want to broach the subject of why you really left.
âYou⊠like Wade?â Logan asks, his frown deepening.
You canât help the laugh that escapes you at the unexpected question. âNo. I mean, I adore Wade, but not like that. Heâs with Vanessa.â
The answer does nothing to change his expression. âAnd you want it to be different?â
His line of questioning confuses you. âIâ No. Logan, this isnât about Wade or Vanessa, but itâs about⊠what they have. Something thatâs real, but imperfect, and thatâs what actually makes it perfect, and I just⊠I was in a really bad place for such a long time, I didnât give myself time to even think about⊠I havenât felt myself wanting for so long,â your gaze flicks up to his. âSeeing them just made me realize thereâs so much left that I still want.âÂ
Internally, you curse the way he always makes you say too much, because you can see the understanding wash over his features. His expression softens, the balled fists by his side loosen, and his eyes search you, as if to see if that thing you want is him. Thereâs no doubt he finds his answer; youâre ever the open book when it comes to him, and your pulse quickens while he silently observes you.Â
Logan reaches for you so quickly that you can barely prepare for it, a hand on your waist to pull you in, another on your cheek to tip your face up and guide your mouth to his. A shaky breath sails out through your nose when your lips meet, your eyes fluttering shut and your palms sliding up his damp but warm chest to curl in the soaked fabric of his shirt. Itâs eager, and the angle is off, but itâs quickly adjusted with a brief parting and a near in-sync tilt of your heads in the other direction.Â
Logan pulls away, but stays close, and you almost feel his words before hearing them, âBeen⊠thinking about doing that.â
âReally?â you say, breathless and amused. âWhen did you, um, start wanting to do that?â
âFew weeks agoâFuck, no, more than that. Almost did, that day after your first meeting, after you told me you were proud of me,â he admits. âBut I wanted to give you time, space. Wasnât sure if you feltââ
âI do. Didnât realize it before, but I fucking do,â you assure him, another tug on his collar trying to pull him back to you. His admissions, knowing he wants you too, only make you want him more, like you have to make up for all the time you wasted not doing this sooner.
Loganâs hand on your waist holds you off. âI just donât know how to⊠how to be this,â he confesses softly.
âThatâs okay,â you say, your nose brushing against his. âI donât either.â
He inches forward like he intends to kiss you again, but seems to reconsider, swallowing hard before saying, âWouldnât be the first time we figure it out together, huh?â
The words make you surge forward to close the gap between you, your brows creasing, attempting to convey everything you feel with one press of your lips to his. Loganâs hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you to him in a way that seems to mirror your efforts. Something lights up inside you, something you lost long ago, and it makes you bold, opening your mouth under his to get a taste of him.Â
His grip on you tightens with a groan, spurring him into action and walking you backwards into the dark kitchen, the only illumination the slivers of moonlight that come through the kitchen window. You jolt when the back of your thighs hit the table, before youâre scrambling to get on top of it, two hands at your waist helping to hoist you up. Your thighs widen to make room for Loganâs while you push the green flannel shirt off his shoulders, struggling to peel it off his arms to the point you have to break away with a laugh to really get it right. It lands on the floor with a wet sound, before he reaches for the back of his shirt, curling his fingers around the collar and pulling it over his head.
Loganâs sturdy, warm to the touch and surprisingly pliant when you canât help but let your fingers flit along the corded muscles and protruding veins while he toes off his shoes. His hand flies to the back of your head to fist the hair at the nape of your neck when your lips explore, find his jaw, and travel down his neck. A soft sound sails from his mouth, a barely audible moan that carries over into something deeper when your lips brush a spot just above his clavicle. Using the grip he has on you, he drags you back up to his mouth, doing some more of his own exploring when his warm tongue strokes against your own.Â
âYouâre so good to me,â he murmurs with a buck of his hips against yours. The thrill of having him pushed up against you, half-hard, warm, full of promise, makes you moan, teeth clacking against his when you do. âAlways so fucking good to me.â
It makes you want to protest, from the very moment you met, heâs the one always being that to you, but it dies on your tongue when Loganâs flicks over the tips of his fingers. His impatient hand finds its way between you, disappearing under the waistband of your underwear and stretching the material to make room. His name comes out as a whimper when his spit-slick fingers easily glide through the soft skin between your legs. He curses, another buck of his hips pressing his hand closer against you, and your kiss turns messy and uncoordinated when he dips one finger to touch your clit.Â
âThis okay?â Logan asks when you gasp, drawing languid circles between your legs.
âYeah, itâs justâ Oh, god.â Two thick fingers find your entrance, swirling the wetness there around. âBeen a while,â you manage to finish your sentence.
âIâll make it good for you,â he promises. âYou want that?â
All you can do is nod, and Logan presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulls his hand back. Itâs paired with a wet sound that makes your cheeks heat, more so when you watch him get on his knees and yank you to the edge of the table, the quick turn of events and the casual display of his strength making you a little dizzy. Loganâs nose presses into the fabric between your legs with a sharp inhale, before quick, practiced moves work your underwear down your legs. One eager hand places a thigh on his shoulder as another holds you at the bend of your knee. You lie back, arching as you hurriedly pull your t-shirt over your head, leaning up on your elbows just in time to watch him bend down.Â
The feeling of Loganâs hot breath sailing out over your sensitive skin alone is enough to make you gasp. He drags his lips and nose across your folds, easing you into it as much as his lack of patience will allow before tasting you with a swipe of his tongue. It isnât tentative or testing, but firm and sure, and clearly for his enjoyment as much as yours when he repeats his action and groans into you. The vibrations of it and the gentle scratch of his facial hair only add to the liquid feeling in the pit of your stomach. Letting go of your knee, he curls a strong arm around your thigh, spreading you open then pulling you flush against him while he sucks your clit into his mouth.
âOh, that feels really good,â you spur him on, your heel digging in between his shoulder blades. You watch him with hooded eyes, shifting your weight to one elbow so you can cup your breast with a whine.Â
Loganâs eyes slip shut in focus, working his tongue up and down your clit and making you arch into his mouth. Reaching for you blindly, he slides a hand over yours on your chest, fingers fitting between your own and squeezing while his tongue slides lower to lick over where youâre dripping for him. He lets out an appreciative hum as he repeats the move until your thighs clench and shake around his ears. His tongue dips inside you, curling up against the slick walls of your cunt, and his name tumbles from your mouth, soft, pleading, making his eyes shoot open to meet yours.
The sight of him looking up at you like that from between your thighs, with dark eyes, the tip of his nose glistening with your wetness, will probably haunt you for the rest of your life.Â
Logan shushes your begging, pulling away and watching as your pussy clenches at the sudden lack of attention. âLet me give you something to come on,â he murmurs, before fitting a finger at your entrance. It meets absolutely no resistance, a second finger sliding inside with just as much ease, and he sets a steady, deep rhythm before his mouth returns to your clit.
âOh, fuck, fuck, fuckââ Your head rolls back between your shoulder blades, mouth open on a silent gasp, but he draws your attention back to him with a curl of his fingers, finding a spot that makes you go rigid for a second. It all builds so fast, so suddenly. The hand on your chest shakes Loganâs off, finding the crown of his head and sliding your fingers into his hair. Heâs too strong to really make purchase, but you try anyway, using your grip to roll your hips against him. The sound of his groans, every flick of his tongue and every squelching, delicious curl of his fingers all send you closer and closer, until his hand presses down on your belly, andâŠ
âLogan,â you manage, voice sharp with a warning that comes too late when he makes you tumble over the edge.Â
Itâs so much after so long, the force of it making you fall back against the table, something between a gasp and a shout tearing from your throat. He holds you tighter, to keep you in place and guide the desperate roll of your hips against his face. Your orgasm quickly slips into something bordering on oversensitivity, and you let out a dry sob that makes you slap a hand over your mouth when Loganâs tongue travels a path from where his stilled fingers disappear inside you, up to your clit. He stays there, gentle, uncharacteristically patient as you slowly come to a twitching halt.Â
Heâs a blur when he comes back into your field of view after standing up, towering over you to watch as you come back down to earth. Becoming sharper with every heavy blink of your eyes, you notice the smile on his face is smug, that the hair surrounding it is a shade darker than the rest. You sigh softly when his fingers slip from you, the feeling of them sliding wetly over your clit making you tremble, but his touch doesnât leave you completely when he moves to stroke the outside of your thigh.
âHowâs that?â Logan dares to ask.
âHmm, no speaking yet,â you protest.
Reaching for him, you slide both of your arms up over his broad shoulders, wrists crossed in the nape of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. Itâs slow, and deep, the taste of yourself shared between the two of you as your tongue slides over his. The table protests with a creak when his hands land beside your head, more when his chest pushes down on yours and you wrap a leg around his waist to get him even closer. The hair scattered across his broad chest teases your nipples and the hard ridge of his cock strains against his jeans and presses up against your slick cunt. It makes your jaw go slack, stoking your desire and making you burn with the need to make him feel as good as he just made you feel.Â
With a push against his shoulders, you take him along as you sit upright again, accompanied by another creak of the table. Mouth still on his, you slide a hand down to cup him over his jeans, the weight of him against your wide open palm making you pulse. Logan grunts when your hand squeezes, and your mouth slides off his, kissing his jaw, sliding back down his neck. He cups your head, keeping you in place while watching your hand.
âFeels nice,â he husks, voice so deep it makes you want to push him aside and get on your knees for him, but then he asks, âAre you gonna let me fuck you?â
âGod, yeah,â you say with a nod, watching as the mark you just sucked into his neck disappears far too soon while you continue rubbing him over the denim. âWant you inside of me.â
âJesusâThen get it out,â he instructs, guiding your hand to his belt.Â
If you werenât so turned on you might wince at how eager you are, at how quickly you tug the buckle open and pull the leather free. Logan groans when it relieves some of the pressure, letting his forehead rest against yours. Together, you watch your hands make quick work of his zipper, your fist closing around his cock while your other hand works his pants down until he can kick it off and under the table.
He fits nicely in your palm, heavy and ready, sticky at the tip. With a purse of your lips, you let your spit trickle down in a straight line, and he hisses when it hits him. Your free hand flattens against his stomach, sliding down along the hard planes of his body and following the vein just below his belly button down, until it meets your other hand that loosely strokes up to the root of his cock. Logan arches into you when you stroke back up with a tighter grip, all but getting on his toes to chase your touch. Using both of your hands to get all of him, you twist your fists in opposite directions once, twice, before circling his tip with one thumb. Your other hand curls around the underside of him, dragging some of your spit down to his balls with the tips of your fingers.
âFâfuck,â Logan stutters when you play with him there, cupping him in your hand as well as you can and squeezing his shaft when it twitches in response. His eyes slip shut as his palms land on the outside of your thighs with a smack, fingertips digging into your soft skin.Â
It makes you jolt, then grin, giddy from the sharp sting and the power you have over his pleasure. âHowâs that?â you echo with a teasing lilt.
He does have the words to answer, albeit a little slurred, ââS good, sweetheart.â
The nickname tacked on at the end takes root in your chest, blooms bright and makes you ache. You translate your appreciation into tightening your strokes and spreading more of the precome that steadily leaks from his tip around.
âCâmere,â Logan says softly, taking over for you with one hand, giving himself a few strokes before pushing your thighs further apart and shuffling closer to line himself up with you.
Youâre so wet that the head of his cock is practically already slipping inside of you, but your hand clasps around his bicep when he really starts to breach you. After giving you a shallow little thrust, his hips draw back, before pushing a little further, gauging your reaction.
âJust like that,â you sigh, watching the careful slide of him in and out of you. âKeep going just like that.â
He gets you opened up like that, giving you a little more with each wind of his hips. Loganâs hand finds the back of your neck, his palm splaying out and keeping you close enough that youâre practically sharing air with each sigh and moan. Eventually, your knees have to draw up to his flanks in order for him to keep going and you wind a leg around his hip to close the final distance with a press of your heel into one of the firm cheeks of his ass. A long breath sails out from between your lips when you pulse around him, slowly adjusting to having all of him filling you up. You can tell he has to put considerable effort into letting you, wood groaning below you when he clutches onto the table.
âFuck, itâs a lot,â you say, and when he grins against your mouth you canât help but kiss him again â just a peck. The hand at the back of your neck squeezes in reassurance as he continues to let you lead, and itâs a small gesture, but it makes you feel warm all over. You melt into it his touch, your body relaxing as the pleasure of the stretch of him takes over. Â
âCan stay like this a little longer if you want,â he says, but the strain in his voice says something different.
âHmm, no, you can move.â Youâve barely said it, or his hips are drawing back, and it would have made you laugh if it didnât feel so fucking incredible. He almost slips from you completely, before sliding all the way back inside with a grunt. The table scrapes along the floor, and vaguely you register one of your chairs falling over in the process. When he repeats the action, the furniture squeaks again below you. âJust donât break my table.â
The sound he makes in response is non-commital, and when he fucks back into you and nudges against something wonderful, you canât say you disagree. Grabbing hold of his shoulder and using the leg you have wrapped around him, you roll your hips against his, and he begins to meet you halfway until you work up a rhythm together. The table protest further, a shrill sound filling the room after each slap of skinâ
With a frustrated groan and accompanied by a startled squeal from yourself, Logan lifts you. The surprised laugh that threatens to bubble up your throat quickly morphs into something heavier that comes out with a rasp when he makes it all look unusually effortless. Attempting to brace yourself, you sling one arm over his shoulders, the other winding around his neck so you can rake your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. Itâs a struggle to keep your balance, a helpless heel digging into the back of his thigh to keep yourself upright. Quick to aid, Logan slides an arm under you, fingers splayed across your ass as your knee hangs off the inside of his elbow. He turns a quarter, presses you up against the wall, and doesnât miss a beat as he continues fucking you.Â
âJesus, Logan,â you say, voice almost a growl and barely recognizable as your own.
With your new position, you can see him better, the both of you lit from the side with the window to your left. The moonlight paints him in a tapestry of light and shadows when the wind blows through the tree branches, momentarily amplifying the glint in his eyes and the flex of his chest and arms like a strobe light.
The different angle he finds with his cock is a little too good, the feeling of the thick base of him stretching you open with each thrust making you dazed and talkative, âItâs so deep like this, canâoh, my godâcan feel you everywhere.âÂ
Logan curses at your words, squeezing your waist and pushing you harder against the wall. Thereâs a deep-voiced appreciation of how good you feel in there too that doesnât quite make it from your ears to your brain because somehow heâs still speeding up. His head ducks down to your chest, mouthing at the soft skin of your breast before closing his lips around a nipple.Â
You whine, using the grip you have on him to roll your hips against the piston of his while you pant into his crown. Though the sound he makes against you when you do it makes you beam with pride, itâs not something you can keep up for very long, your hold on him slacking after a few thrust until you slip back against the wall.Â
Logan pulls back when you do, tightening his hold on you while his eyes glide from the bounce of your tits that glisten with his spit to down between your bodies.Â
âTouch yourself,â he instructs, grunting when you immediately do as he says by bringing a hand down between where youâre joined. Your fingers spread in a V-shape around where he fucks into you, collecting some of your mixed arousal before using it to rub your clit. âThatâs it, sweetheart, fuck, make yourself come.â
You nod, rapidly feeling everything zeroing in on the fingers that draw tight circles over your clit and that spot deep inside you that Loganâs finding with every thrust. âYeah, fuck, IâmâDonât stop, donât stop, pleaseââ
Heâs coming before you are, tucking his head below your chin to let out a deep, drawn out moan against your neck that ends with his teeth grazing your skin. Itâs so much, the pressure of him grinding himself into you with twitching, barely there thrusts, the heat of his release as it fills you where youâre gripping him like a vice, and as your fingers still twirl between your legs you come, and come, and come.Â
The leg you have wrapped around his hip slips off, but before your toes can even scrape the floor, he catches your thigh, cupping your ass with both hands now to keep you up, and close. With a soft, satisfied sound, you let your forehead fall against Loganâs shoulder, tasting the salt of his sweat with every light press of your lips there.
It takes you a moment to notice your back has come off the wall, that Logan is walking the both of you into your living room and to the couch. He bends his knees, dropping you between your pillows, where you land with as much grace as you can muster considering you feel like youâre made of lead. The soft couch is pleasant against your body, your sore limbs sinking into the cushions.Â
Logan fits himself between your legs again, widening them around his broad shoulders before his lips find your overstretched thighs, leaving marks and kisses up up up, until his tongue slips back into your pussy. Your back arches off the couch, hands shooting down to fist his hair with a whine while Loganâs hand fists his cock. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can tell heâs already getting hard again, and his tongue is making something swirl low in your belly thatâs making you pant, and...
Itâll be a long night.
THE PEARL
It had taken a lot of convincing and downright groveling, but Wade had allowed you to bring a movie for movie night. It wasnât that he didnât trust your taste in movies, his main gripe with your choice was that it wasnât a Christmas movie â mandatory for December. Wadeâs right, but after you explained that itâs the movie you always watch at the end of the year (and after Logan and yourself conceded that yes, his birthday was technically also your anniversary) heâd agreed.Â
Now that youâre actually watching it, you suspect heâs genuinely invested, because after a handful of comments about The Hulk, heâs been quiet for longer than youâve ever heard him be quiet.
In the scene on the screen, Mark Ruffaloâs character Dan and Keira Knightleyâs character Gretta are taking an evening walk around New York City, dancing, singing and sharing music with each other as they do. Eventually, they stop and sit next to each other on some steps, watching as the city continues to move without them.
â...the most banal scenes are suddenly invested with so much meaning, ya know? All these banalities, they're suddenly turned into these⊠these beautiful, effervescent pearls,â Dan says, wistfully looking on as New York bustles around him. âI gotta say, as I've gotten older these pearls are just⊠becoming increasingly more and more rare to me.â
The arm Logan has slung around your shoulder tightens, and the couch creaks softly as you lean further into his side, your cheek squishing against his warm chest.
âMore string than pearls?â Gretta inquires with a frown.
âYeah. You got to travel over a lot more string to get to the pearls.â Thereâs a pause as he turns to look at her, âThis moment is a pearl, Gretta.â
She gives him a hint of a smile. âIt sort of is, isn't it?â
âAll this has been a pearl,â he admits, sharing a look with her.
A finger curls under your chin, tipping your head up until your eyes meet Loganâs. He gives you the same look you just saw on the screen, his eyes soft as they take you in, the hint of green between the hazel illuminated by the light of the television. A thumb swipes over your bottom lip fondly, before he leans down to kiss you.
It takes a lot of string indeed.
Sometimes even interdimensional string.
â â â â â
(THE END)
If you made it all the way here, thanks for reading. Seriously. Please come say hi and/or share your thoughts via ask/messages/reblogs/whatever you feel comfortable with. I hope to share more writing soon - emphasis on hope, I'm not making promises, just an educated wish.
And lastly, if you're struggling with mental health problems, please don't wait for a handsome stranger to sweep you off your feet. I know from experience that it can be incredibly difficult to reach that hand out, but I also know from experience that things can get better. There are ways to get help and you deserve to get help đ«
#this was incredible#logan howlett x reader#jess reads#2024 fave fics#fic rec: logan howlett#fic rec: deadpool & wolverine#thinking of queue
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