#i was so sad and then he started to stream and saved me

[deus-ex-mona]

i miss her…

[not-neverland06]

you're not her

The 'Worst' Logan x fem!mutant!reader

a/n: really wanted to write for the worst logan so I found a streaming site so I could finally watch the new Deadpool movie (yay pirating) (this is totally hypothetical and a joke to the feds lurking) I was going to just read the wiki plot but I don’t think that was going to cut it Again, using the same superhero name/powers. It’s not an OC I swear, it just makes sense in comic book movies to have some alternate name and I’m not creative enough to come up with multiple different supe names. Summary: You hate him, you really fucking hate him at first. He’s cruel and constantly reminds you that you’ll never be the hero he knew. You’re not her and he’s made that abundantly clear. But what are you supposed to do when he’s suddenly your new roommate and you have no choice but to wake up to his face every day? I feel sad because I don’t think I did the angst justice with this one. But if I keep staring at it trying to fix it, then I’m never going to post it. (This is a long one guys) Angst with a happy ending (because I’m a little bitch) Makeout scenes and smut towards the very end 18+ MDNI

You don’t know how you got here, but you know you’re mad at whoever dragged you into this shit. You don’t think it would be wild to assume it was Wade’s fault. Usually, when something goes wrong in your life it’s on him. 

What you do know; you look like shit. Wade and Wolverine are both standing over you in their awesome ass uniforms and you’re still in your fucking pajamas. How are you supposed to be badass and save the world in pants that have Spiderman’s face plastered all over them?

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Wade,” you growl at him. 

He places his hand daintily on his chest and waves you off, “Save that for the bedroom, pookie.”

You grit your teeth and glare up at him, Wolverine gives him a similarly disgusted look. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you grumble under your breath. You get to your feet and brush yourself off, finally looking around and taking in wherever the fuck he’s dragged you. “Where are we?”

“The void,” Wade responds, voice ridiculously dramatic. You look around and throw your hands up in defeat. 

“What the fuck, Wade? Why did you drag me with you into this?” You look over at the Wolverine beside him. He hasn’t stopped glaring at you both and his claws are out, clearly ready to just eviscerate you. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Okay, wow, language, Flux. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Eat me-”

You’re cut off by the knock-off Wolverine standing a few feet behind you both. “Flux?” He demands, voice so low you almost can’t hear him. Both you and Wade’s heads whip around to face him. Thus far he’s been relatively silent, you nearly started to wonder if he was mute. 

“It’s her X-Man name,” Wade tells him, gushing like it’s some big deal. “Impressive, huh?” You don’t bother correcting him that it was your X-Men name. Can’t exactly call yourself that if they booted you off the team for being a crappy superhero. 

Logan snorts and shakes his head. He stalks towards you and you nearly fall over in your attempt to scramble back from him. “You,” he demands, claws pointed at you threateningly. “You’re Flux?”

Wade hisses, watching as Logan swipes out at you. “Alright, peanut, let’s put the claws away and take a deep grounding breath.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps at Wade. He turns to glare at him and you take the opportunity to scramble behind your friend for protection. At least if he gets stabbed, he’ll heal. “You,” he scoffs and it trails off into a laugh. There’s no humor behind it, he's just a dick. “You are a fucking joke compared to my Flux.”

The ground underneath you rattles, pebbles bouncing off the cracked desert and ricocheting off their boots. Wade quickly moves away from you, shoving you forward so he’s not in the line of fire. “Yeah, well you’re just an alcoholic fuck who could never hold a candle to my Logan.” 

You can feel energy brewing at the tips of your fingers, waves, and waves of hate building up within you. The man across from you feels the shift, the static suddenly permeating the air around you both. You let your power build and build…

The pebbles drop back to the ground and you stumble back from Logan, nose bleeding from overextending yourself. “Shit,” you mutter, wiping at your face with the back of your hand and shaking your head. 

Logan laughs again, it echoes through the stormy sky and you wish you had any control over your powers so you could just send him flying. Or, better yet, turn his bones into liquid and flip him inside out. “Oh,” he lets out a long exhale, glaring at both of you. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” The faux smile drops from his face and he raises his voice just loud enough to make you jump, “Just one big fuckin’ joke!”

You have about five seconds to dive to the side before Logan is lunging at Wade. “Wait, wait, wait we can talk about this!” Wade shouts, but it’s too late, he’s already on the ground getting his head caved in. 

You let out a rough sigh, stumbling off to the side. You’re drained from that shitshow of powers. You barely made a few rocks levitate and you feel like you’re going to pass out. You walk away from the two men and throw yourself on the ground, trying to reorient yourself while they fight like wild animals. 

You can hear them in the background, stabbing and shooting like they’re aiming to kill. Too bad neither of them can die. It’d save you a hell of a headache.  They run past you, Logan’s got his claws buried in Wade’s gut while Wade’s desperately firing off his gun into Logan’s chest. 

Your head rolls weakly to the side and you mutter out a pathetic, “No, stop. Don’t kill each other.” As expected, neither of them listens to you. They keep fighting, showing no signs of stopping. 

There’s a moment of silence after about ten minutes of nothing but grunts and insults. You peak your head up in interest. Logan got his claws posed over Wade’s throat. You wonder if decapitation would actually kill him or if he’d somehow manage to survive that. 

Wade doesn’t seem interested in testing out the theory, “They can fix it!” Wade shouts, “They can fix your timeline. I just need your help saving mine.”

Your eyes widen and you meet Wade’s masked gaze over Logan’s shoulders. The white slits widen and he minutely shakes his head, telling you not to say anything. Like, maybe, that neither of you has any fucking clue if the TVA is capable of even fixing timelines like that. 

You know Wade is desperate when he makes that promise. It’s the only reason he would say something so stupid. It’s a blatant lie, one pulled so far out of Wade’s ass you’re genuinely surprised that Logan can’t smell the bullshit. Whatever happened in his universe must have been horrible for him to ever believe anything that comes out of any Deadpool’s mouth. 

It’s a long moment before Logan finally pulls his claws out of Wade. Your friend slumps forward in relief as Logan stalks away from him. You glare at Wade from where you are on the ground, “That was fucking stupid,” you snipe at him. He gets to his feet, walks over to you, and forcefully yanks you to your feet. 

“Not a goddamn word,” he warns, but you aren’t exactly threatened by him when he's got three holes in his head from Logan’s claws. Still, you hold your hands up and acquiesce, following after him as he chases down Logan. 

Your mind is still fuzzy when you are captured by Cassandra. You're recovering from overextending yourself, eyes blurring and limbs going limp like jello when her army of henchmen circle you all. 

You finally feel yourself starting to come back to your body when you wake up tied to Johnny. “And,” Wade draws the word out, waiting until you lift your head to finish, “there she is! Happy you could join us, princess. Mind turning these ropes into dust for me?”

You groan and let your head slump onto Johnny’s shoulder. He smirks and glances down at you. “Oh fuck off, both of you. I can’t do shit right now and you know it, Wade, I’m drained.” 

Logan is glaring at you, but there’s less hate in his glare and more confusion now. “Can you do anything?”

You narrow your eyes at him, lips screwed up while you try to decide if he’s being an asshole or genuine. “Hard of hearing or something old man? I’m drained,” you reiterate, your tone a little too bitchy. 

Logan narrows his eyes, grunting something foul under his breath. Wade interferes before you can piss each other off anymore. “She had an accident, her brain’s a little broken now. But it’s fine! Whose isn’t?”

You huff and throw yourself back against the cage you’re all being transported in. You feel eyes on the side of your head and slowly look over to see Johnny grinning at you. “Hey, you know I’ve met one of your variants-”

“Don’t give a fuck,” you interrupt. You hear Wade snicker under his mask, giving you an encouraging thumbs up even with his hands bound. You were both a little disappointed it wasn’t Captain America lurking under that cloak. But at least this guy isn’t such a prude he won’t cuss. 

For the next five minutes, you’re on the receiving end of a very enthusiastically vulgar rant about just what a cunt Cassandra Nova is. He’s still not even finished by the time you reach the gates to her lair.

Your eyes widen when you see all the people lurking around the walls. Most of them you recognize as people you’ve put away or killed in your world. But there’s something just minutely different about them than the version you faced in your timeline. Their eye color or outfit is always just slightly off. 

The familiar faces are almost a relief. But there is nothing comforting about knowing you're outnumbered two hundred to four. The cage is tipped over and you go rolling out, you grunt as Johnny’s elbow digs into your ribs. 

Before you can even attempt to shove him off, the ropes are whipped off of you and you’re dragged by an invisible force across the ground. Rocks and sand scrape across your tender skin and bury themselves deep in your pores. You hiss in pain when you finally come to a stop and your body is your own again. 

A groan slips through your parted lips unbidden as you struggle onto your knees. Your pajamas are ripped practically everywhere and you feel like you might as well be naked at this point. You really wished that you at least had a chance to change before you were kidnapped to another universe. 

The woman you presume to be Cassandra Nova is currently fucking Wade’s skull with her freakish telepathy fingers. Johnny’s a pile of guts and bones on the floor and you have no fucking clue where she flung Logan to. 

You get to your feet, shaking your head and reorienting yourself. In a second she’s in front of you, head tilted to the side while she regards you curiously. “Woah,” you jump back, glaring at her outstretched hand. 

“Careful,” Wade warns her breathlessly, still clutching his head. “Flux here has a pathological fear of bald people.”

You nod, “It’s true, you can imagine how strained my relationship with your brother was.” Cassandra circles you, a devious tilt to her lips. Your eyes track her, unwilling to take your gaze off her for even a second. You feel like a rabbit, facing down a fox that’s made its way into your burrow. 

“Curious,” she mutters. “I’ve seen quite a few of you down here before. But,” she chuckles and before you can move her hand is shoving its way into your brain. You scream, there’s an agonizing burn as her fingers probe under your eyes and dig through the deepest part of your subconscious. It feels like someone’s taking a shovel and ripping up your worst traumas. “None of them have been so weak.”

Wonderful, even she wants to insult you. You can feel the way she’s plucking through your thoughts, tossing aside the ones she doesn’t like. Images of your childhood are flashing across your vision. You can no longer see the world around you, it’s like every one of your worst memories is being played on a projector. 

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue and jerks your neck around until you’re looking at something you’ve tried to forget for years. “Here it is. How easy it would be for me to simply unblock those powers of yours.” She smiles, her face appearing before you and blocking out the bloodshed. “It would make this far more entertaining for me, what do you say?”

Your teeth are clenched so tightly you’re surprised they haven’t cracked yet. It’s hard to get the words out when her fingers are still dancing through your skull. “Fuck you,” you finally spit out. She releases you suddenly, and you surge forward with a gasp, clutching at your skull desperately. 

You half expect your brains to begin leaking from your nose and eyes. But nothing happens, despite feeling incredibly violated, everything is still in its proper place. Cassandra walks past you like everything is fine and dandy in the world. “Well, as much as I would love to see those powers of yours in action again, Flux, I’m afraid Alioth must eat.”

Before you can ask what she's talking about there’s a loud rumble. Like thunder cracking through the sky and land, the ground underneath you shakes. Cracks form under your feet and the henchmen around you all start desperately racing for cover. 

You turn around, staring wide-eyed at the purple cloud of death and destruction steadily moving across the sky. A face breaks through the clouds, grinning down at you. Purple lightning hits the ground and the villain next to you explodes into nothing but dust. 

“Shit!” You shout, turning around and running to try and avoid getting zapped up next. There’s no coming back from this one. Once this monster gets you, not even god could save you. 

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you off your feet. “No time for consent, we’ve got to get the fuck outta here!” Wade shouts in your ear. Logan is standing next to some robot leg, ripping out cords until a jet on the back fires up. Wade leaps onto the boot, wrapping an arm around Logan’s legs as you’re all shot into the sky. 

You’d scream if you weren’t trying not to throw up. You hurtle through the sky at speeds that have your skin nearly ripping off your skull. The rocket on the back of the leg starts to sputter out. The flames flickering out and then back to life. It steadily begins to drop until you’re plummeting headfirst towards the ground. 

Wade wraps himself around you, tossing himself off the boot so he can brace your fall. You hear and feel nearly all of his bones break under your weight. For a moment it feels like you’re laying on warm jello as you try and catch your breath. 

“Nailed it,” he mutters weakly. You’re pretty sure he can’t breathe, a rib having pierced his lung in the fall. A shadow looms over you and you glance up to find Logan glaring down at you. You stare at him apprehensively, half expecting him to unsheathe his claws and just end you right here. 

Instead, to your surprise, he holds a hand out. You look at it with suspicion, glaring back up at him. “Fucks sake,” he mutters. He reaches down, roughly grabbing your hand and jerking you to your feet. You feel the warmth of Wade’s blood on your back and grimace. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, still not entirely trusting of him. 

He purses his lips into a thin line, backing awkwardly away from you. He just nods and starts surveying the land around you. It feels less like trying to figure out where you all landed and more like awkwardly avoiding eye contact. 

The whole interaction leaves you feeling odd. “Well, that was as awkward as two virgins on prom night,” Wade loudly announces as he jumps to his feet. You whip around and send him a dirty look but his attention has already been snagged by something else. Lately, you’ve been considering grounding up Adderall and slipping it into his breakfast, you think it might do him some good. 

What’s got to be the fugliest dog you’ve ever seen in your life bounds towards Wade. He drops to his knees, ripping off his mask and opening his arms wide to the mutt. You grimace, taking a step back when she starts licking his face. “Oh, that’s just wrong.”

Thankfully dogless, you steal Nicepool’s Honda Odyssey - much to Wade’s chagrin. Logan’s in the front seat, Wade beside him. You’re sitting in the back, rubbing your temples and trying to get rid of the raging migraine you’ve had since Cassandra finger blasted your brain. 

You’ve been zoning in and out of the conversation happening in the front seat of the car. But Logan suddenly slams on the brakes and you go hurtling forward. Without even looking at you, both their arms shoot out, blocking you from flying through the windshield. 

Your face scrunches up as you look at both their arms, it feels like being saved by an overbearing soccer mom. “Buckle up, princess,” Wade tells you. He shoves you back into your seat and you look between the two men suspiciously. 

“Did you just say if?” Logan growls, glaring at Wade. Your face drops, finally realizing what you’d missed. 

Wade lets out a weak chuckle, “Slip of the tongue?” Logan growls and the claws come out. Wade raises his hands, “Okay, let’s put a brake on the crazy train. I wasn’t lying it was just an educated,” for the first time in your friendship Wade is actually speechless. You’re shocked by the silence. Until, of course, he runs his mouth again and comes up with the lamest cop-out you’ve ever heard. “It was an educated wish that they could fix your timeline, alright?”

Logan doesn’t give much of a warning except a low growl before he shoves his claws deep into Wade’s thigh. “You motherfucker!”

“Hey!” You shout, jumping forward and ripping Logan’s claws out of Wade’s leg. “Look, we’re trying to save our whole fucking universe. Can you blame him for lying?” You regret opening your mouth pretty much immediately. 

You should have just stayed out of this, it wasn’t any of your business. And if they wanted to be two dumbasses and fucking tear each other apart then so be it. But you never should have drawn attention to yourself. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan shouts at you. It’s so startling, coming from him. You’re still associating him with the man you’d looked up to growing up. Your Wolverine was a hero. He was the reason you wanted to be an X-Man. And they look exactly the same, it’s nearly impossible for you to separate this one from the one you knew. 

But it's easier now. Because the man you’d known would never be so cruel and jaded to the world. Not like this. “Why the fuck are you even here? You’re just some watered-down knockoff of a real hero. You are nothing, you’re worth nothing. It’s a fucking joke that you’re alive and the woman I knew is buried six feet deep. If there was anything right in the world you would be in a grave somewhere crawling with maggots.”

Your eyes water without your permission. You don’t know this man. Yet, he has the face of your greatest hero and the man who you’d grown up hearing stories about. It’s like facing everything you’ve ever wanted to be and having it shout your deepest fears and insecurities back at you. He’s just confirming something you’ve known for years. You never deserved the title of being an X-Man. You never deserved the uniform or anything that came with it. 

Your breaths are coming short and fast, it feels like your lungs are constricting. You worry you won’t be able to get air in but he doesn’t care. No, he keeps going. “You follow this fucking clown around and you contribute nothing to the world. You’re never gonna save your fucking timeline. You can’t even make a few rocks float.” It’s not the words that hurt you next. It’s the way he says it. “You’re pathetic.”

He spits them at you. There’s venom lacing his tone like he’s seen into you and knows there’s nothing in you to offer. For the first time in a long time, you feel seen and you hate it. Because he’s looking past the sarcasm and the faux confidence you carry yourself with. 

He sees the empty husk of a woman you truly are and he’s forcing you to face it with him. It causes you physical pain, to know that everything you’ve ever feared about yourself is true. You don’t have anything to say to him, you can’t. 

Your lips tremble and you feel so fucking small. You can hear your parent's voices in your head, screaming at you and wishing you were never born. They’d rather have a stillborn than a fucked up mutant for a daughter. You see the way even other kids at the school would hide from you. You were made wrong, even as a mutant you were never truly accepted. 

Logan’s face drops ever so slightly at the prolonged silence in the car. Even Wade isn’t speaking, he’s just staring at you both. “I,” he starts, but Wade cuts him off. 

“I’m gonna hurt you now.” Wade’s never been one to let people run over you, even when you might just let yourself fall into the background. You shouldn’t be surprised when he draws a knife and stabs it into Logan’s throat. 

But the arterial spray that follows catches you off guard and suddenly your tears are dried. Instead, you’re throwing open the car door and diving out before one of them crushes you. You make it out of the car just in time, Logan having thrown Wade right where you had been sitting. 

Music starts up in the car as a result of their fighting. Divorced dad rock and the sounds of their, borderline, sexual grunting are your soundtrack for the rest of the night. You curl up at the base of a tree, waiting for them to be done with each other. 

Logan’s words continue to echo through your head. And the longer you linger on what he said the angrier you get. Not necessarily at him, but at yourself. You’ve let yourself linger in self-pity and wallow in regret for so long. 

You look in the mirror and you no longer recognize yourself. He’s right, as much as you hate to admit it, you’re a fucking joke. You toss your head back, slamming it against the trunk of the tree hard enough for it to hurt. 

There’s this manic, cloying feeling tugging at your chest. It’s like someone’s sitting on your ribs, crushing you until you can’t breathe anymore. You keep throwing your head back, letting the pain distract you until you feel warm blood leaking down the back of your scalp. 

“Shit,” you hiss, hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull. You wince when you feel the split in your skin. The blood leaks over the tips of your fingers, running through the cracks of your palm. 

You force yourself to relax, to move your head away from the tree. As you go to stand up, possibly to get Wade and Logan to quit their fighting, you notice something odd. The air around you is still, you can no longer hear them grunting or groaning as they rock the Honda. 

Leaves are suspended in the air. They’re not trembling from the breeze, they’re completely frozen. You take a step forward and gasp when you hit something solid. The air in front of you has solidified somehow. 

The realization dawns on you slowly but surely. This is you, you’ve done this. Manipulated everything around you on an atomic level. You’ve turned something you shouldn’t be able to feel into something you can touch. Frozen the world around you. Whatever Cassandra had done inside your head, it had knocked something loose. 

You haven’t had this wide a range of control for years. Any attempt to do something like this has been met with nosebleeds and long periods of blacking out. Elation fills you, the hurt from earlier is nearly gone. 

You glance through the wall of air and try to see if you can still see the Odyssey. To your horror, it’s gone. You wave your hands and the air returns to normal. The leaves drift back to the forest floor and you run back to where you’d left the two men. 

There are tire tracks dug deep into the mud. You know Wade wouldn’t willingly leave you behind, not here. You don’t know if Logan’s just kidnapped him or if someone else has. Whoever was driving was clearly in a rush to get out of here. 

You must have missed it all while you were having your meltdown. “Fuck,” you shout, your voice echoing into the branches above. You take in a deep breath and start walking. Hopefully, you can catch up to them before whoever has them does serious damage. 

You make it to a weird cave/hideout area. The Odyssey is parked outside and when you peek through the broken windows you find the interior completely destroyed. There’s blood soaking through every surface, anything and everything has been smashed and bent the wrong way. 

You don’t even know if this is from Wade and Logan or whoever had snatched them. Shaking your head you back up and slink towards the entrance of the den. You can hear shouting inside, it sounds like Wade, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. 

You haven’t seen action for a long time. At least not any that you could actually contribute to. It feels a bit like riding a bike. You’d practiced on your way here, making things around you float or eradicating a few trees into nothing but dust in the wind. But this is different. 

Your friend (and Logan) are inside, possibly being tortured. Maybe even dead. Though, you seriously doubt the universe is going to be that nice to you. You let the energy build in your arms, it’s like a warm tingling feeling. It shoots down to the palms of your hands until you feel static in the air. 

You take a step inside and spot three people. Each of them is decked out in weapons. One of them turns and spots you. “Who is-” 

You don’t let him finish, throwing your hands out and slamming them all into the wall so hard the whole interior shakes. Dirt rains down from the ceilings while their faces contort in pain. You run inside, spotting Logan and Wade. 

You shoot Wade a big grin but he throws his hands up and shouts, “Read the fucking room!” Your brows furrow and he points emphatically at the people you’re holding, “Good guys!”

“Oh shit,” you release them immediately, a guilty look on your face. “I am so sorry.” Logan cackles in the back, doubled over laughing while the three people in front of you brush themselves off. 

You don’t want to be out here with him, but it’s better than being in that cave with the others. Laura walks past you, sending you an uneasy smile. You’d noticed her sitting beside Logan and decided they probably needed a few moments to themselves. 

They were finished now, though, and he had the only bottle of liquor left in the cave with him. You trudge over to him, leaves crunching under your boots. Elektra, after that horrific introduction, had given you a uniform a different Flux had left behind. 

She was long gone, killed by Cassandra years ago, but she’d conveniently been your exact size. The uniform is nearly identical to the one you have buried under your bed. Black leather with a dark purple X going across your chest and matching purple seams. You’d never wanted something ridiculously flashy. Just something that people would see and associate with the X-Men. 

Because that’s all you’d ever wanted to be; a hero. It feels like a pipe dream now. If your pajamas weren’t so destroyed you would have just stayed in them. You don’t feel like you deserve this uniform, not when the woman who’d worn it before you had actually been a hero in her timeline. 

“Don’t want company,” Logan snarks, without even looking back to see who’s coming up to him.

You take a seat on the lawn chair closest to him and snatch the bottle of whiskey from his hands. “Good,” you tilt your head back, downing as much as possible. It burns the whole way and you revel in the slight tickle in the back of your throat. 

“Alright,” Logan mutters. He gently takes the bottle back from you, giving you an aggrieved look when he sees just how much you’ve stolen. He looks back into the fire and sighs, “Look, I’m not interested in hearing about your sob story or why you’re suddenly drinking all my liquor-”

“Gambit’s liquor,” you interrupt, not bothering to look at him. “And I’m not looking to dump my sob story on your lap. I just want to sit in silence and that’s impossible because Wade hasn’t stopped running his mouth since we got here.”

He looks a little surprised by the brusque way you dismiss him, “Alright,” he mutters. He takes another swig from the bottle and you both stare silently into the fire. It’s like that for a while, you don’t bother keeping track of time. 

All you hear is the crackling of the flames. All you can feel is the way your eyes burn from staring into the fire and watching sparks pop off the logs for too long. The breeze rustles the trees, makes the leaves shake free and dance around the logs of the fire. 

He breaks the silence first, to your chagrin. “About what I said,” he clears his throat uncomfortably, still refusing to look at you, “back in the car.”

“Don’t,” you snap, voice low. “Just,” you let out a long breath and shake your head. You finally look over and meet his eyes. He does actually look sorry, but you don’t want to hear it. “Just don’t, I deserved it all right.”

“No, no you didn’t.” You open your mouth to argue but he gives you a firm look that has your jaw snapping shut. “I was wrong, I don’t know you. And if my Flux had ever heard me talking to you like that she would have melted my fucking spine.” He laughs a little and you feel your lips twitch up slightly. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look anything but angry. 

Curiosity loosens your tongue and knocks you out of the dazed stupor you’ve been in. “What was she like?” You ask, tone earnest. “Your Flux, I mean, you make her sound so amazing. I just can’t,” you trail off, but the look on his face tells you he understands your unspoken words. I just can’t see myself as a real hero. 

He groans and leans back on the log he’s resting on. He stretches his legs out in front of him, the liquor bottle placed on the forest floor. You’re surprised, you figured the thing was glued to his hand. 

“Well,” he reaches up and scratches at the scruff of his chin, a wry grin on his face. “She was always giving me shit, never let me get away with anything.” You unconsciously lean forward, drawn into the endearing way he begins to describe this other version of you. 

It’s not ridiculous to assume this variant meant something to him. He’s got a shine to his eye that you haven’t seen in the whole time you’ve been together. His gaze has been empty, closed off to anything and everything. But now, his eyes are crinkling at the corners, there’s an easy smile on his face that you can’t miss. 

“Ah, she was fucking feisty. And strong, she was so strong. She was always a better hero than I was. She lived for that shit,” he trails off and shakes his head. You can see you’re losing him and you don’t want this to end. You’re in your own little bubble right now, getting to pretend there’s a version of you out there somewhere that actually lived up to her potential. 

“Her powers,” you blurt out, desperate for something to stop him from retreating back into his mind. “Did she have, um, good control over them?”

Logan nods, eyes darting down to the bottle of whiskey before flickering back up to meet your gaze again. “Yeah, Charles trained her, she was right up there with Jean. She could have,” he stops and suddenly you feel guilty for making him talk about this. You can see the tears in the corner of his eyes, the way the whites of them go red. “She could have been great.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I didn’t mean to pry.” But you did. You were being selfish and forcing him to talk about it even though you knew it would hurt him. 

“Look, kid, she would have liked you. I’ll tell you that much,” he says reluctantly. Like the words hurt to force out. You suppose he isn’t used to being genuine with anyone. 

You shake your head and look down at your hands. “I appreciate the thought, but I doubt it.”

Logan grabs the bottle again, gulping it down like it's water. His words have a slight slur to them as he speaks again. “I think I would know, bub. ‘Sides, you made it into the X-Men, tells me what I need to know.”

You scoff and fix him with a sardonic look, he raises his brows in question and you roll your eyes. “They’ll take fucking anybody. And I still wasn’t good enough for them.”

Logan shakes his head and frowns. “If what I saw in there,” he points back to the den and you feel your cheeks warm as you remember what you’d done, “is any indication, then I’m sure you were plenty good.”

You lean towards him, elbows braced on your knees. He follows suit, leaning so close you almost want to back up. The proximity flusters you slightly but you shake the feeling off. “You don’t even know me and the first real thing you said to me was that I’d be more useful as fertilizer.”

He sighs, face screwing up at your harsh words. He runs a hand over his cheeks and groans, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You lean back in your chair and idly twirl your hand through the air. The leaves around you lift up and flutter through the air above your head. Logan watches and you turn back to him, waiting until his eyes meet yours to speak again. “Yes, you did. And you were right. I’m fucking useless, powers or not.” The leaves drop, a few fluttering into the fire. “We’re irrelevant, Wolverine, two washed-up X-Men who never looked good in the uniform.”

There’s a twinge of hurt on his face but you can’t make yourself feel bad about it. Since he’s such a fan of brutal truth, you’re sure he can handle it. 

You watch as the leaves curl up at the corners, the fire burning them straight through the middle. You get to your feet and move past him. You’re nearly back to the den when he calls, “The suit looks right on you,” over his shoulder.

You pause at the threshold of the door. He’s already drinking again, staring into the fire and watching it burn. You take a few steps towards him, staring at his broad back. “What happened to her, your me?”

Logan looks down at his hands, his ring finger specifically. You wonder at the significance of the movement, what exactly you’d meant to him. “She married me,” he mutters, voice cold and closed off again. 

“Goodnight, Logan,” you whisper, finally walking inside the den. 

You miss the small goodnight he sends back to you, finally turning around only to watch you leave. 

There had been a very clear plan set in place. Get Juggernaut’s helmet, put it on Cassandra, and then kill that psychotic bitch. Which is why you’re so confused when you’re standing knee-deep in guts and watching Logan and Wade leap through a portal above you. 

You don’t have time to feel angry or even hurt that they left without you. Laura is grabbing your arm and you’re both running for your life, trying to escape Alioth again. You run into Cassandra’s lair ducking into one of the rooms and dragging Laura with you. 

You’re both holding your breaths and praying that he’s sated by the others still outside. After a few minutes, the cracks of thunder stop and you risk peeking your head outside. The clouds have retreated back to their usual spot in the middle of the void. 

You take in the carnage of Cassandra’s evil lair. Most everybody is dead. You only have to skirt around a few people to get back to the Odyssey. 

You throw yourself in the driver’s seat and sink back against the bloodstained cushions. You let out a relieved breath and look at Laura, “What do you do to entertain yourself around here?”

You acclimated to the idea of being stuck in the void pretty quickly. There wasn’t exactly a lot waiting for you back home. Besides, Laura was nice enough. You had food, beer, and company. You didn’t really need much else. 

You’re pretty sure if you linger too long on the thought that Wade left you behind you’ll fall into a depression that you’re never going to be able to claw your way out of. So, you forced a smile on your face and played cards. Nothing else to do but wait to die of old age or for Alioth to kill you. 

Of course, your plans had to be ruined. There was an odd rush of air against your back and then a slight whoosh. Laura glanced over your shoulders and her brows furrowed, you turned around to find three armored men waiting behind you. 

“Flux,” the man glanced from you to Laura, “X-23?”

“Laura,” you both correct at the same time. 

The man gives an aggrieved sigh and holds his arm out, “Come with me, please.”

You stand up, energy tingling in the palms of your hands while you regard them suspiciously. Laura comes up behind you, claws out and glaring at them. “Why should we?” You demand. 

Barely a second later you hear the most insufferable voice in the world. “Hiya, peanut!” 

“Wade,” you hiss. You follow the armored men through an oddly shaped portal and find Wade standing beside a shirtless Logan, smiling proudly at you. “You fucking left me,” you hold up your hands and his eyes widen. 

His hands quickly come up, trying to assuage you, “Hold on now-”

You throw him back, his body hurtling into a nearby building and caving in the wall. Logan watches it happen with a small smile, “Been wanting to do that for a while.” 

Once Wade had recovered he filled you in on everything that happened. TVA did a general clean up and then you were standing in front of your apartment door, keys in hand like nothing had happened. 

It was so bizarre, going from a mission to save your timeline and then you’re expected to just go about your life. You stay standing in that hallway for you don’t know how long before you hear someone behind you. 

You jump and drop your keys when Logan clears his throat. “Shit,” you hiss, whirling around and glaring at him while your heart races. He chuckles and bends over to grab your keys for you. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. This is the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him, covered in blood and in a borrowed shirt. “Uh, Wade doesn’t have enough room at his place. Told me I should come over here.”

You look over his shoulder and see Wade peeking his head out of his doorway. He catches your eye, sending you a thumbs up. You almost smile but then he makes a phallic gesture with his hands, pointing at Logan and humping the air. You glare at him and he quickly backs into his apartment, but not before sending you one last encouraging shit-eating grin. 

You look back at Logan and he’s waiting expectantly for your answer. “Yeah,” you take your keys from him and unlock the door. “I’ve got a spare room but there’s no bed in it right now.” Your eyes widen when you see the mess that is your apartment. 

You quickly rush through, picking up empty take-out boxes and dirty laundry and shoving them into your room. He’s smiling at you when you come back and it's slightly off-putting. “Um,” you gesture towards the couch awkwardly. “You can take the sofa tonight and we’ll look at setting you up with something more permanent tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” he hovers by the armrest and you engage in the longest stare-off of your life. Neither of you says anything for a few suffocating moments before he gestures at himself. “Shower?”

“Oh,” you snap out of your stupor and nod your head. “Yeah, right, of course.” You show him down the hall, “Here. I’ll go get you a towel.”

You rush towards your linen closet, leaving him behind in your bathroom. You grab a few clean towels and then figure he might want some clothes as well. You grab some pajamas that Wade’s left over when he’s crashed before. They’ll probably be a bit tighter on Logan, but you wouldn’t mind seeing that. 

You walk back to the bathroom and the thought of knocking doesn’t even run through your head. It should, honestly, but you’re already so thrown off by him even being here. You walk in and immediately gasp and drop the towels. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. I’m so sorry.” He’s standing naked before you. Clothes discarded on the floor behind him. Everything on perfect display. Your eyes land on his abs, noticing a few prominent veins leading down-

You cover your face and turn around. “Sorry,” you mutter again. God, you’re such an idiot. You still haven’t even left. You’d just been shamelessly ogling the man naked and you don’t even have the decency to walk out. 

You really can’t help it though. It’s been such a clusterfuck, the last 72 hours. Your brain is fried and Wade’s little show hasn’t helped you at all.  

You hear Logan laugh behind you. “It’s alright,” he mutters. Something warm ghosts across your arm and you jump slightly. His hand firmly grasps your bicep, gently tugging your palms away from your face. 

You risk a glance over your shoulder and nearly gasp at how close he’s gotten. He's towering over you, something in his face you can’t place. “It’s alright,” he whispers again and you find yourself nodding without really thinking. 

He’s got both hands on your arms now, trailing up and down. The touch is so featherlight you can barely feel it at all. You don’t even realize how he’s gently coaxing you closer until you trip on the towels at your feet. 

You startle, looking down at them and moving to kick them aside. But he stops you, his finger nudging your chip up so you’ll look at him again. There is such blatant want painted across his face that it makes your heart skip a beat. Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps an arm around your waist and drags you closer. 

You can feel all of him. You can feel just how much he wants you. It catches you off guard, this sudden display of attraction. You don’t know where it’s coming from, what’s brought it on. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. You’ve been so lonely for so long. You just want to bask in the fact that he looks absolutely starved for you. 

No man has ever looked at you with such heartbreakingly yearning eyes - like he’s been looking for you his whole life. He dips down, lips ghosting gently over yours. Your breaths mingle together, you can nearly taste him. 

It’s unclear which one of you moves first, who pushes closer to the other. But it doesn’t matter because the second you put real pressure behind the kiss he’s all over you. One of his hands drifts down to your ass, squeezing the flesh there and dragging you closer, grinding his hips into yours. 

You moan at the feeling, your arms wrap around his neck and you press yourself even closer. He groans against your lips at the first swipe of your tongue. You part with a gasp when he picks you up, practically tossing you onto your sink. Your legs spread instinctually, making room for him as he slots himself between them. 

It’s odd, feeling so vulnerable even when he’s the one who's completely naked. It still feels like he’s holding all the power. 

His lips are moving frantically over yours like he’s terrified you’re going to disappear the second he lets go. You can taste something desperate on his tongue. Something deeply rooted inside him that you can’t identify. 

One of your hands drifts from his neck, trailing over the muscles of his chest. Your fingers carve a path down his abs, relishing in how muscular he feels under your palm. Your hand reaches his pelvis, nearly wrapped around him when he jumps back. 

He grabs your wrist in a grip so tight you know there’s going to be a bruise. A pained gasp slips out and he releases you immediately. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Sorry, I can’t.” He won’t look at you now, backing up towards the shower and shaking his head. “This was a bad idea, I can’t do this.”

You shake your head, slipping off the sink and hiding your bruised wrist behind your back. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

You feel too ashamed to meet his eye. He kissed you but you feel like you’ve forced yourself on him somehow. It’s a nauseating feeling and you want nothing more than to run back to your room and hide. 

He takes a step towards you, something pained on his face. “Kid-”

You just shake your head, step out of the bathroom, and grab the handle of the door. “Sorry,” you whisper again, closing the door behind you. You lean against the cool wood, trying to catch your breath. 

Your hand drifts up to your lips, still tingling from how desperately he’d kissed you. It doesn’t make any sense. He came on to you, he threw you up on the sink, and made out with you more passionately than any man ever has before. So why are you the one who feels dirty?

You rush down the hall and into your room, slamming the door behind you. You dive under your covers, closing your eyes even though you know you won’t sleep. No, your shoulders are tensed up to your ears and your bones are vibrating with an energy you need to release. 

You’re completely tuned into the other person lurking in your apartment. You can hear as he starts the shower, how he talks quietly to himself sometimes. Then when he gets out you can perfectly picture what he looks like while he’s getting dressed and it only makes you feel worse. 

You listen as he leaves the bathroom and pauses in the hall. You can see it in your mind’s eye, how he stares at your door. He walks towards it and lingers for a minute before cussing quietly and heading back into the living room. 

You suddenly remember that you didn’t lay sheets out on the couch for him. You feel guilty, but there’s not one part of you that will be dragged from this bed and face him. Not now, at least. 

He’s up for a little while longer, getting water. Turning the TV on and off. Rooting through your cabinets looking for booze you know you don’t have. Finally, he settles on the couch. You’re awake for another hour, unable to relax until you’re completely sure he’s asleep. Even as you drift off and your body finally relaxes your mind doesn’t. You keep seeing that stricken look on his face and it makes you sick to your stomach. 

It’s the smell of pancakes that wakes you up. You’re not sure when you finally managed to pass out last night but you know it was late. Which is why you’re so pissed off that you’re being forced to get up at seven in the morning. 

You’re used to being able to sleep in a lot later than that. You’re already in a pissy mood from last night and it only gets worse as you trudge around your room getting ready. You’ve never been more thankful to have snagged one of the rare two-bathroom apartments in the building.

You don’t want to have to share a bathroom with Logan. You don’t even want to use the other one after what happened last night. It’s too embarrassing and painful to think about. The emotional whiplash of feeling so desired and then absolutely hideous is making your head spin. 

You’re sure it was all just a problem on his end, but it really doesn’t make you feel any better. When you can’t stall any longer, and you know that Logan has heard you get up, you slip quietly out of your room. 

The curtains in your living room are open and he’s in the kitchen fucking around with your stove. The news is playing quietly on the TV and you’re astounded about how little he’s done and how much more homely your apartment feels. 

It’s never really been home to you. Not after you were booted from the X-Men. But he’s somehow made it ten times cozier than it ever has been. You almost resent him a little for it. 

“Morning,” he grumbles from the kitchen. “Coffee,” he motions behind him and you see a steaming cup already waiting for you. You silently slip behind him, grabbing the creamer from the fridge and pouring it until you’re sure it’s sweet enough to not actually taste the coffee. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, moving to sit at the table. You keep your eyes trained on the TV, pretending to pay attention to the news so you don’t have to look at him. He bores his eyes into the side of your head until you feel like you’re going to have holes in your temple. 

When you can’t take it anymore you finally look over at him. He doesn’t smile, his face barely even twitches, he just looks back to his pan and continues scrambling some eggs. “Didn’t know you cooked,” you offer up weakly, already growing anxious from the silence. 

It feels wrong, to be walking on eggshells in your own apartment. He grunts and shrugs, “Not really cooking. You had the mix in your pantry,” he tells you brusquely. His tone borders on rude and you scoff. 

The audacity of this man to have an attitude with you in your apartment. He was the one who threw a hissy fit last night. You roll your eyes and go back to the news, all it tells you is that the world is just as depressing as the inside of your apartment is right now. 

You notice out of the corner of your eye the way his shoulders slump forward. He leans against the oven, seeming not to care if he burns himself. You suppose it doesn’t matter, he’d just heal. “Sorry,” he mutters. It sounds like it pains him to say the words. 

“Whatever,” you mumble under your breath. You take a long sip of your coffee, slurping a little so you have something to fill the atmosphere. 

He puts some food on a plate and brings it over to the table for you. You usually don’t eat breakfast, preferring to just skip the meal and eat a bigger lunch. But it feels too bitchy to say that to him, so you just accept the food with a strained smile. “Thanks.”

He sits across from you, glaring down at your table like it insulted him. You drag your fork against the plate, letting the scrape of metal against porcelain drown out your worries. Finally, he looks at you. “Look, about last night.”

You tense up. You want to interrupt him, to stop him from explaining. You know it’s just going to hurt your feelings, whatever he says. Whether he tells you it was a mistake or he just realized he’s not attracted to you, either way, you’re fucked. But, it’s also kept you up all night so you just shut your mouth and let him speak. 

You keep your gaze trained on your plate, unable to fully face him. He lets out a long sigh and clenches his fork so tight you hear the metal bend. He drops it to the table and clenches and unclenches his fists a few times. 

“I just couldn’t kiss you, not when I wasn’t doing it for the right reasons.”

Your brows furrow in confusion and you finally look up at him. “What?” You demand, disbelief coloring your voice. 

His eyes are boring into yours, an intensity behind the stare that leaves you feeling a little shaken. “You look like her,” he whispers, and the grief is so thick in his voice it makes your throat tighten. He pauses briefly before continuing. “There are,” he clears his throat like he’s trying not to cry. It makes you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your stomach uncomfortably. 

“There are a few differences, obviously. You’re not a carbon copy. But your mannerisms, your attitudes, you’re so similar. And I,” he shakes his head and gives you one of the most genuinely apologetic looks you’ve ever received. You can tell he really does feel guilty for projecting on you but it doesn’t make you feel any less uncomfortable. “And I just wasn’t doing that for the right reasons. I was pretending you were her and that’s just not fair to you.”

You lean your elbows on the table, head falling into your hands. You let out a rough sigh and groan in irritation. You knew the reason would hurt but you didn’t think it would be this bad. You feel gross, icky under your skin knowing that he was pretending you were another version of yourself. The version of yourself you’ve always wanted to be; the hero. 

But you also feel such a deep sadness and sympathy for him. He’d briefly mentioned that he was married to this other you. You can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like, to see your dead wife’s face staring at you and she doesn’t even know you. 

“I,” you don’t even know where to begin. You struggle to say anything for a minute and you both just stew in the tense silence. You take in a deep breath and look up at him. You do what you always do, forcing a smile and shrugging it off. “I appreciate the honesty, really.” You stand up, bringing your still-full plate into the kitchen and busying yourself with cleaning up. 

“Clearly,” you snap, your voice crueler than it should be, “It was a mistake. We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again, right?”

Logan sits silently at the table. He looks like there’s more he wants to say but you don’t give him the chance. You can’t take it. You finally thought someone had wanted you for you, flaws and all. You’re a fucking idiot, he barely even knows you. Whatever connection you thought was there was just brought about by your own loneliness. 

“I gotta get ready for work,” you tell his back because he isn’t looking at you now. 

He nods, scraping his fork across the plate as he aggressively cuts into his food. “Right.” You wait for him to say anything else but he doesn’t. 

You walk past him and head back to your room. You don’t even have a job, you don’t have to work. But you still grab your purse and head out of the apartment. Pretending you do just so you don’t have to look at him anymore. 

You really should have let him finish, though. You should have let him keep talking to you. Let him explain how as much as he sees her in you, that’s not why he wants you. He wants you for you. Because as similar as you can be, you’re still a completely different person from who his late wife was. You’re someone strong and incredible and he genuinely wants you. But he can never really let himself be happy. 

It takes a few days for you both to ease up around the other. The incident in the bathroom is never brought up again. You take him shopping for clothes after a few days. It feels wrong to keep giving him Wade’s hand-me-downs. You would have had your friend take him, but you don’t trust Wade’s sense of fashion at all. 

After that and getting lunch together while you were out shopping things got a little easier. You bought him a bed for the spare room because you felt guilty seeing him all cramped up on your tiny couch. 

You don’t initiate any physical contact with each other. The closest you’d gotten was your hands brushing when you both reached for some popcorn at the same time on movie night. But you hadn’t really minded that bad. 

Eventually, he starts to feel like a real roommate and a friend. He lets little pieces of himself slip out. Slowly opens up about his past. You haven’t made any existential discoveries of course. But he tells you stories of what his X-Men were like. 

You try not to dance around the topic of his wife, you don’t want him to think you’re avoiding asking about her. But you also don’t want him to think you’re obsessed with discussing her. 

He’s right, you two weren’t carbon copies of each other at all. You might share a few things in common but the more both you and Logan learn about each other, the more clear it is how different you both are from your variants. 

Sometimes you think he looks at you like he’s really seeing you, not her. But you can never be sure and you don’t want to put much strength behind the thought in case you’re wrong. You hate the idea that when you’re thinking of nothing but him, he’s just seeing her reflection on your face. 

There’s nothing you can do about it but it doesn’t stop the hurt. 

Tonight, at Wade’s suggestion, you’re both up on the roof waiting for a meteor shower that you’re ninety percent sure is never going to happen. You’re also one hundred percent sure that Wade just tricked you out of your apartment so he could have sex in it. He and Vanessa don’t really get a lot of time alone with Blind Al around. You’re already mentally preparing for the absolute fuck storm you’re going to have to clean up after.  

There’s a light nudge on your shoulder and you glance over at Logan. He’s got the whiskey bottle outstretched towards you and you take it from him with a smile. One thing about being his roommate, your alcohol tolerance has skyrocketed. His liver might regenerate, but you’re pretty sure if you keep going down this route yours will give out in a few months. 

“Think this is actually going to happen?” You ask, pointing up toward the clear night sky. 

Logan chuckles and shakes his head. He stretches out in your flimsy lawn chair and you try not to let your gaze be drawn to the sliver of skin peeking out from his shirt. “Probably not, but I don’t mind being out here.”

There’s an unspoken, with you, that makes you smile. You meet his gaze, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Me either.” You lean back in your chair, pulling your legs up onto the seat and huddling under your blanket. “It’s peaceful.”

You drink together in silence for a little while longer. Then you have to tap out, you don’t want your brain getting too foggy. Tonight is nice, you want to remember it tomorrow. To your surprise, he caps the bottle and places it to the side. You don’t mention it but you do feel like you’ve noticed he’s been drinking a little less. The dark circles under his eyes seem to be easing away ever so slightly. 

He looks over at you with an odd light in his eyes. You shift uncomfortably under his stare when it lasts a little longer than it usually does. You chuckle awkwardly, “Do I have something on my face?”

There’s a soft uptick to his lips as he shakes his head. “No,” he mutters, looking back out at the night. “You mind if I ask you something?”

Ominous, but whatever. “Sure.”

He still doesn’t look at you and you worry slightly about whatever it is he’s going to ask. He doesn’t ease you into it all, “Wade said your brain was broken?” A laugh springs out of your throat from how brusque that was. He rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ idiot mentioned it in the void, been wonderin’ about it.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him. You’re relaxed enough that you don’t mind answering. You don’t want to pop the soft bubble you’ve managed to create around each other. “Here,” you hold your hand out for the whiskey bottle. He gives you an apprehensive look before handing it over. 

You unscrew the cap, “This,” you say and point your hand at the glass. The liquid inside lifts into the air and you freeze it before dropping it back into the bottle with a splash, a simple little party trick. “This used to be enough to put me in a coma for two days. That’s what he meant. Something happened to me and I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Logan’s eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief. You laugh a little, “I assume your wife never had problems like that?”

There’s always a fond smile when you mention his wife. Whether the memory is bittersweet or not. “She wasn’t perfect, much as I thought so. When she used her powers too much she,” he trails off and looks down at the floor. You frown, ducking your head down so you can catch his gaze. 

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” you promise quietly.

But he shakes his head and gives you a weak, tight-lipped smile. “No, I want to. And I don’t want you to think you’re the only Flux who struggled. When she used her powers too much she would deteriorate. Parts of her would just disappear, I don’t even know how to describe it. They were destroying her from the inside out.”

You let out a low whistle, eyes widening slightly. “Well, maybe I didn't get the short end of the stick after all.” It’s quiet and for a moment you worry your humor was ill-timed. 

But he lets out a rough laugh, “No, I guess not.” He takes in a deep breath before looking back up at you. There’s no distant sadness in his eyes like there usually is when you bring her up. It seems to only be a familiar ache now, rather than something fresh and bleeding. “But what happened to you? Why couldn’t you use your powers?”

“Oh,” you look down at your lap, picking at the strings of your pants. It would be unfair to have him talk about his wife and then wimp out when it was your turn. 

“Um, There was this mission. A bunch of kids, mutants, were being held in this warehouse. It was actually pretty normal, just go in, retrieve them, and bring them back to safety. I must have done a dozen of these before, but, I don’t know. Something was this different this time around.”

You can still hear them screaming. In your mind, you hear the way they cried for help. And you see the look on your faces when they realize you can’t save them every time you go to sleep. 

You suck in a sharp breath and almost jump when his hand lands on yours. It’s gentle, he’s barely even touching you and he’s not even acknowledging what he’s doing. But you take his hand in yours and squeeze, it’s nice, grounding. 

“Long story short, they were heavily guarded and I was pretty drained from fighting off the guards. My powers were practically gone by the time we could even get to the kids. And, I don’t know, something must have gotten knocked over or hit the wrong way because smoke was filling the place and everything was on fire. I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t breathe, and the kids were blocked off. There was nothing we could do to get to them. Everyone kept screaming at me, telling me to just use my abilities and get them out of there. I couldn’t,” your voice gets thick and you look anywhere but at him. “I,” your mouth hangs open and you don’t know what you could possibly say. 

There’s no excuse for what happened. “I just couldn’t,” you whisper. You sniffle and your eyes flutter rapidly, trying to stop any tears from coming. “Hadn’t been able to use my powers since then. Trauma block or something, I guess,” you dismiss yourself flippantly and shrug. 

Logan just squeezes your hand again. He doesn’t seem to know what to say to comfort you and you’re honestly grateful for the silence. You get so sick of people telling you there was nothing you could have done. Or that the others should have helped you. Because that’s not a fucking excuse. There’s no fixing what happened, no giving those parents their children back. You fucked up and you don’t appreciate people giving you cop-outs. 

You keep your gaze trained steadily on the ground, eyes going blurry while you try to slip into the back of your mind. You don’t get the chance, though. Logan is kneeling in front of you, hands slipping up your arms to cup your face. 

He forces you to look at him, to stay present in the moment with him. “You fucked up,” he tells you. It's so shocking that you can’t help but let out a loud wet laugh. You sniffle and he grins, wiping the tears out from under your eyes. His grip on your cheeks tightens and he makes sure you’re listening as he speaks, “You fucked up, kid. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try your fucking hardest. And it doesn’t erase all the people you did help.”

Your eyes search him, trying to find any kernel of untruth. Trying to prove to yourself that this isn’t real. That he isn’t real. You don’t deserve this moment of such unwavering trust and faith. This is meant for someone else, for someone who deserves good things in life. 

You’ve never truly believed you deserved happiness or peace like this. But right now you don’t care because he is saying everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. And he actually means it. 

Your hand drifts up, covering his and tilting your head to press a gentle kiss to his palm. It’s tentative, a test, a way to give him an out if doesn’t want this. His grip on you tightens for half a second before he shoots forward and claims your lips with his own. 

It escalates quickly. You practically melt off your chair, straddling his lap while he leans back on the ground. Your hands tug at his hair while he moves desperately over your body. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to do, where he wants to touch you. 

You love how fully his hands engulf you, the tight way they cradle you to his chest. You’ve never felt more secure in someone’s arms than you do right now. He’s got you, and he wants you. For you this time, you can tell. You can tell from the way he holds you that this isn’t a desperation born from grief. It’s something else, something you’re not ready to identify yet. 

His tongue laves across the seam of your lips, silently asking permission. You smile against the kiss, parting your lips and deepening it. He licks into you, tasting you with a low grunt in the back of his throat. You feel your hips start to move of their own volition. Gently grinding down against his lap. You moan when you feel just how bad he wants you. 

You lean back, parting from the kiss and pressing a finger to his chest to keep from following. You chuckle at his eagerness, grinding your hips down again and watching the way he thrusts up to meet your movement. “Didn’t know I was such a good kisser,” you tease. 

But he doesn’t return the joke or play along. His face falls slightly and he pulls further away from you, the look on his face distant. “What?” You whisper. “Do I have bad breath?” You joke, trying to keep the mood light. 

He shakes his head and runs a tired hand over his face. “No,” he mutters. He repeats the word more firmly and finally meets your gaze. “I think I need to take this slow, just because of…”

He trails off but you know what he means. His wife. You don’t know if he’s still projecting her onto you, you felt so sure he wasn’t earlier. But if every time you kiss he’s gonna pull back you’re not sure that you can do this. “Of course,” you mutter with a bite to your voice. It’s hard not to feel a little rejected every time he acts like this. 

You move to get off his lap but his hands clamp down on your hips and he shakes his head again. “You don’t have to get up.”

You hesitate, thighs still hovering over his. You should get up and put as much space between you as possible. But he’s so warm and you want to be held for a little while more. You nod and he looks relieved. You lean back down, pressing your chest against his and letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. 

He wraps a heavy arm around your back, keeping you close while the other reaches up to stroke your hair. It makes you feel small, in a good way. Like you can just relax and he’ll take care of you. 

“Goddamn,” he laughs a little and you sit up. He nods to the sky above and you turn around, gasping. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, “he wasn’t lying.” For once, Wade was telling the truth. Above you, it looks like the sky is falling. Glittering stars dart across the sky, streaks of blue following behind them. You grin, “It’s so beautiful.”

Logan keeps his eyes on you and nods, “Yeah, it is.”

“Ah, look, my favorite fuck buddies.”

”Wade,” you greet tightly. You shove the bottle of wine you brought into his chest and he stumbles back. “Just let us in, you freak.”

He frowns, placing a hand over his heart. “You know, it really hurts when you talk like that. I think we all need to hold hands and have a good old-fashioned jerk circle.”

You roll your eyes and flick his thick forehead. “It’s share circle, dumbass.”

”Not the way I do it,” he moves to the side and lets you both in. “Well, mi casa es su casa, especially since Vanessa and I had rockin’ sex in your bed last week.”

He walks off before you can hit him or even begin to respond to that. “I fucking knew it,” you hiss, glaring at his stupid Hawaiian shirt while he mingles with the rest of the people at the party. 

Logan chuckles behind you, “How did you two ever become friends?”

You roll your eyes and turn to face him. “I moved in next door,” you respond dryly. “This was a nonconsensual friendship because god hates me, clearly.” You shrug your jacket off and he takes it from you, hanging it up on the hook by the door. He comes back, slinging an arm around your shoulder, and leading you towards the kitchen. 

You hear Wade laughing loudly in the background and he grunts, “I’m gonna need a drink for this,” he mutters. You nod your head in agreement. You don’t get very far, though, because without any warning Wade is in front of you. He’s got his ridiculous dog in his arms and shoves her in your face. You grimace and jump back. Logan abandons you and you narrow your eyes at his retreating back. Traitor

Wade says your name with disappointment. “You know, Mary Puppins is a part of my life now. As my best friend, you need to bond with her. I can’t have you two fighting like this.” He shoves the dog into your arms without any warning and you flinch away from her wandering tongue. 

“If this thing licks me, I’m putting her down,” you warn him gravely. 

He gasps and snatches her back. “You are no longer welcome in my home,” he tells you with a snotty huff. You roll your eyes and watch him go. When he’s out of sight your lips curl up in a grin and you glance at Logan. 

He’s by the sink, making himself a drink and taking a deep swig straight out of the bottle. You creep up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smiles, hand coming down to gently hold your arm. “What’re you doing?”

”Come with me,” you whisper. You take his hand and lead him through the apartment. You both skirt around the partygoers, giving them vague greetings and waving them off when they give you odd looks. 

Logan leans down, lips brushing across your ear as he whispers, “Where are we going?” Your knees nearly give out when you hear that low tone of voice of his. You just shake your head and lead him down the hall. You can sniff out Wade’s room from the permeating stench of his axe body spray. 

You throw the door open and drag Logan inside behind you. His nose wrinkles up at the stiff socks littering the floor and the smell. Other than that, it’s relatively clean. You actually thought this would look so much worse. 

“Now,” Logan demands, “are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

“Well,” you lock the door and turn around with a devious grin. “Seeing as Wade has ruined my favorite sheets, I feel like we need to get him back somehow.” You glance around the room, trying to figure out something of his you want to destroy. 

You don’t hear Logan moving towards you. You’re too busy rooting through Wade’s desk and trying to find something good to shred up.  All you’re seeing is increasingly more disturbing porno mags. He has got a serious problem with pegging. You briefly wonder if you should set up an intervention or something for him. 

You nearly yelp when Logan’s hands grip your shoulders, whipping you around to face him. “I’ve got an idea of what we can do.” That’s your only warning before his lips cover your own. You melt into him immediately, hands fisting his shirt and dragging him closer. He grins against your lips, lifting you and placing you on the edge of Wade’s desk. 

“Mm,” you moan but shove his chest back and shake your head. “Wait,” you hop off the desk and take a seat on Wade’s bed instead. “There’s no point in this if we’re not on the bed.”

Logan shakes his head with an amused huff. He walks towards you but instead of taking a seat on the bed next to you like you'd expected, he kneels before you. Your brows furrow together and you frown. “Wait, what’re you doing?”

He gives you a gentle smile, hands coming up to rub gently over your thighs. The warmth of his palms soothes you almost immediately. “You trust me?” He asks, voice a low rumble against your chest. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. He nods encouragingly and leans forward, kissing you gently. There’s nothing expectant in this kiss. He’s doing it just to be close to you. Then you feel his hands drifting higher, fingers running over the buttons of your jeans. Your lips part, ready to ask him a question. But he just takes the chance to dip his tongue into your mouth, eagerly tasting you. You moan into it, not protesting when he presses you back into the bed. 

His fingers dip under the waistband of your jeans. You lift your hips to help him tug them the rest of the way down until they’re dropping to the floor quietly. You have a million questions dancing on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find it in yourself to actually voice any of them. You don’t want to break the moment. This is the first time he’s seemed comfortable going further than kissing and some heavy petting. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Your hips jolt as he runs a thumb over the wet spot on your panties. “All this just from kissing?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his tone. You feel your face flush, cheeks warming when you realize he’s never actually seen just how much he affects you. “Relax,” he tells you, squeezing your thighs once before slipping a few lithe fingers under the band of your panties. 

He tugs them down, but the second he sets eyes on you he gets too impatient to take them off the rest of the way. They dangle off one ankle while he lifts your thighs, setting them on his shoulder and dipping down to press a gentle kiss against you. You gasp at the contact, head tilting back while you instinctually grind your hips up against him. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve actually been with anyone and you already know you’re going to cum embarrassingly quick because he fucking devours you. You’ve had boyfriends who liked to eat you out before, but this is something completely different. 

He drags his tongue over you, sucking on your clit like it’s his only true joy in life. You can’t even make noises, your jaw hanging slack while you cant your hips higher. He groans when you grind against his face, shaking his head and flicking his nose across your bud. You nearly come from the sight of him smiling against your cunt alone. You feel it building slowly, and it’s like your powers are swelling up along with your release. 

Wade’s knicknacks are floating off the shelves, some of them rotating in the air, others fluctuating between liquid and solid forms. You can’t control yourself, you’re barely aware of the chaos happening in the room around you. You just feel a warmth at the tips of your toes, swelling over your body, making your skin feel too tight. There’s little to no warning when you cum. He dips his tongue inside you and you let out a long moan, drenching his face. 

The sheets are soaking wet underneath you and you know you’ve ruined his shirt. You’ve never come that hard before and you would reflect on that more if he wasn’t still fucking eating you out. You think your brain is going to melt out of your ears, you're so overwhelmed by all the different sensations.

He dips his tongue into you, dragging out your orgasm and drinking as much of you down as he can. Your hips keep twitching, you’d be thrashing out of his hands if it wasn’t for the near brushing grip he has on your hips. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you reach down, grabbing his hair at the roots and tugging. He groans at the feeling, barely leaning an inch back. “No more,” you whisper, chest heaving. 

He smiles, palms smoothing across the skin of your thighs, “You okay?” 

“Mhm,” you hum weakly. Your head falls back against the bed with a dull thunk and you struggle to catch your breath. “Holy shit, where did you learn to do that?” He doesn’t answer, just laughs. You jump slightly when he presses a tender kiss on your thigh, every part of you oversensitive. 

He moves slowly up your body, hands dragging your shirt up until he’s pulling it over your head. He cups your cheeks, letting you recover while he kisses your cheeks and face. You laugh slightly at the feeling of his beard tickling you. 

You pull back, meeting his gaze for a long drawn-out moment before you lean forward to finally kiss him back. You can feel yourself slowly coming back into your body. Your limbs tingle back to life while you lazily make out with him. 

His hands drift down your chest, squeezing your breasts. You laugh against his lips, arching into his touch. You reach back, unclipping your bra and throwing it off somewhere in the room. In the far reaches of your mind, you make a mental note to take that when you go. You don’t want to think about what Wade would do with it if he found it. 

Logan pulls back from you and your lips tip down at the serious look he wears. Your fingers trace the lines of his face and you tilt your head in question. “What’s wrong?” You whisper. You’re completely naked before him and he’s still clothed, you don’t want him to leave now. 

He can’t keep doing this to you. He can’t keep forcing you into these vulnerable positions and then leaving. There’s only so much rejection you can take before you start to resent him for it. 

He tilts his head down, gaze dragging across your body appreciatively. He’s looking at you like you’re art and it makes you feel like you should be in a museum somewhere. Finally, his hand drags down from your chest, wrapping around your waist and dragging you onto his lap. 

You brace your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He leans towards you, lips trailing lightly across your jaw. “You’re not her,” he whispers against your skin. Your mouth parts, a pained breath slipping through. You try to move back from him. You hadn’t expected something like that, not now, not when you thought you’d made so much progress together. 

To have you naked, vulnerable like this, and then say something like that to you. It was fucking despicable. You shove his shoulders back but he barely moves. You shift, trying to cover yourself and fighting off the urge to cry. Why won’t he let you go? Why does he keep doing this to you? 

He reaches out, snatching up your wrist before you can get far. “I don’t want you to be. I never wanted you to be her, I need you to know that.”

He tries to kiss you but you snatch his jaw in your hand before he can. You let your nails dig in until there’s red blooming under your fingertips. He hisses, but he’s not mad, you can feel how much he enjoys the little pinpricks of pain. 

“No more pulling away,” you warn. “I’m not playing this damn game with you anymore, Logan. You want me, then commit.” You release him with a shove and his pupils dilate with want. You appreciate the gentle way he’s been treating you, but you know you’re both holding back. 

He’s the first partner you’ve been with that can actually take what you give and vice versa. There’s something only mutants understand sometimes. You normally have to hold back, have to make sure you don’t scare a guy off by making the walls shake when you come. 

You push him down onto the bed. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt and running over the grooves of his muscles. You haven’t had a chance to appreciate just how gorgeous his body is before, but nothing is holding you back now. 

You snap your fingers and the buttons rip open, he surges forward catching your lips with his while you both frantically push his shirt off. He throws it off to the side and his fingers fumble with his belt buckle while you trail kisses down his neck. You glance up at him for a second before biting down on a particularly sensitive spot. 

He groans, head rolling back while you grin against his skin. You make your way back to his lips. “Don’t hold back,” you tell him, trailing your hands down to his fists and running over the spots where the claws come out. 

“Sweetheart,” he starts tone apprehensive. You shake your head, shutting him up with a kiss. 

“Don’t. Hold. Back.”

It’s like a switch flipping. Even the way he looks at you changes. You’re not something to be cherished and adored. You feel like a deer pinned by a wolf. He’s got you in his clutches now and there’s a real possibility you might not survive this. 

He stands up, dropping you on the bed and dragging your hips off the edge. He doesn’t kick his jeans off, just lowers them enough for his cock to hang out. You’ll address the fact that he wasn’t wearing boxers later, you’re too worried about what’s hanging between his legs right now. 

You’re no virgin, but goddamn, there’s no way that’s going to fit. 

He laughs, the noise cruel and it makes shivers crawl down your spine. “We’ll make it work, kid.” He spreads your legs and you tilt your hips up, making it easier for him to just sip inside. 

There’s a slight stretch, but you’re already soaked for him. You’ve been waiting for this to happen since you walked in on him naked in your bathroom. “Oh, shit,” you toss your head back, taking in a deep breath while he pushes in. It feels like he’s rearranging your insides, molding you to fit him perfectly. 

You can already feel yourself clenching down, just being so close to him is enough to make that tingle in the tips of your toes start. He leans down, placing your legs over his elbows and rutting into you like a wild animal. There’s nothing gentle or slow about this. 

You’re both so pent-up, tired from the weeks of dancing around each other. Your nails drag up his back, blood following your movement. Your powers are actively surging against him, pain only driving you further into each other’s arms. 

You can hear his breathy grunts and groans in your ears and it’s music to you. Neither of you cares about the party going on just outside the door. You’re loud, skin slapping against skin while you loudly call out his name. 

God, you hope they hear you. Hope they realize just how thoroughly you’re wrecked for each other. You can feel yourself getting closer, hips stuttering against his while you struggle to match his pace. “Come on,” he mutters in your ear. He releases one of your legs to reach down and rub your clit. 

“Fuck,” you groan, reaching up and tugging at his hair while your back bows. It only takes a few more tight circles of his thumb before you’re spasming around him. He’s quick to follow behind you. 

He pins your hips to the bed, dropping your legs while he thrusts faster. He loses his rhythm, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he cums inside you. It’s like a mini death, you feel like you’ve lost time when you finally manage to come back to yourself. 

And when you roll your head to the side you realize just how much damage you’ve done to Wade’s bed. “Shit,” You glance up at the sound of his voice and notice little droplets of blood on your hips. Logan’s claws are out, stuck in the fluff of the bed. 

You force the words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. “Do that often?”

“Not really,” he mutters. The claws retreat and he rubs his fingers over the blood. It’s not bad, you’ve honestly done worse to yourself. It’s like a big paper cut. When the rough pad of his fingers presses against the cut you hiss at the sting, nearly enjoying it. 

“Must be special,” you tell him with a cheeky grin. He shakes his head with a laugh and takes his time pulling out. You hate the loss of him inside you but it's a slight relief. He's larger than any partner you’ve ever had and it’s almost overwhelming to be so full. 

“Come on, let's get you dressed.” He pats your thighs, glancing around for your clothes. 

“Uh, Logan,” he looks up and you glance at his still very hard cock. “I thought you came?”

The smile he gives you is slightly terrifying. Because there’s a promise in it. He’s not getting you dressed for no reason. He’s taking you back to your apartment so you can have more fun where there are less people and fewer reminders of Wade. “Stamina's part of the deal, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you whisper, voice breathless in shock. You wipe the cum off your legs with Wade’s sheets. You feel like you’ve thoroughly gotten revenge on him for destroying your favorite bed set. Maybe, you’ve gone a little farther than revenge, though. 

You feel guilty, looking around the room and seeing everything you destroyed. Once you’re dressed, you wave your hand, putting most things back where they belong. But there’s nothing you can do about the bed. The sheets are soaked with a mixture of yours and Logan’s releases and there are six holes dug deep in the bed from his claws. 

When you step out of the room with Logan, struggling to press down your hair and get it back into place, Blind Al is waiting by the door. She’s doing a line off the back of her hand when you pass by. You think you’ve almost made it scott-free when she yells, “Man, I wish I couldn’t fucking hear,” at you. 

You tense up, shoulders to your ears while you run to the door. Logan laughs, grabbing your coat for you and pressing a hand to your back while he leads you to the apartment. “Weren’t feeling so embarrassed earlier,” he teases. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, dragging him into the apartment to finish what you couldn’t on Wade’s bed. 

You’ve managed to keep any holes out of your bed, you just have to use your powers to keep his at bay. It’s nice, not having to explain why everything around you is levitating to the person you’re having sex with. There were a lot of awkward conversations that came from that. 

You’re lying on Logan’s chest, fingers idly running over the veins in his biceps. “I want to be serious about this,” you tell him. 

His hand pauses from where it’d been stroking your back. You sit up on your elbow so you can get a better look at him. “I mean it, I,” there’s no way to say this without sounding like a complete bitch. You just have to rip the bandaid off. 

You take in a deep breath, “I know that you still miss her,” you say, unwilling to say her name. Logan sits up, looking more serious now. “But I don’t want to be with you if you think that I’m going to turn into her. Or if you think that I’m the last connection you have to her. I’m not her, Logan, and I'm never going to be her.”

You expect anger on his face or regret, maybe. But you don’t expect him to laugh at you. You roll your eyes, lips pursed while you wait for him to finish. He notices the pissy expression on your face and quiets down, but you still see a smile fighting on his lips. 

“I know you’re not her. You could not be more different” he tells you with a slight smirk, like there’s an inside joke you’re missing out on. “I was married to her for a long time and I loved her. But we had our time together. Now, I just want my time with you. You’re not her,” he leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “That’s why I want you.”

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and have to fight to keep a stupid grin off your face. “Okay,” you whisper. “Good, well as long as we’re on the same page,” you tell him, faux serious. He just rolls his eyes and pulls you back into his arms. 

You’re going to cuddle up beside him when you hear your phone going off like crazy on your nightstand. Your face pinches in confusion and you reach over to grab it. 

Wade

Did you fuckers have sex???

In my bed!!!!

And you didn’t invite me?!

….

Wade

Tell Logan I want his claws in me next

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” you mutter, throwing your phone somewhere on the bed. Logan laughs again, drawing you closer. 

a/n: i have a really weird tendency for masochism, idk what that’s about. I just feel like if you were having sex with this man, he’s taking you like a wild animal. also feel like I might be a one-hit wonder. the smut just wasn’t doing it for me this time guys nor was the angst, i’m disappointed in myself

I just don't think I did justice to his character in the movie, I might have made it too OOC/ if I did PLEASE let me know

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus ♡

[prettydaisygirl]

streamer!James Potter x superfan!reader who finally gets noticed in his chat ✿ 680 words

cw: I don't think I wrote any identifying traits for reader, but I had fem!reader in mind when writing, the marauders as live-streamers, chat being chat, the tts bot, reader is obsessed with James (Prongs)

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

next part

You rush into your apartment, tripping over your own feet as you kick off your shoes. You catch yourself before you fall on your face, rushing through your living room and into your bedroom, to your laptop. 

You open the laptop, typing in your password and quickly navigating to your favorite live-streaming website. It’s 4 pm, which means he is streaming. Your favorite streamer and internet crush: Prongs. 

You’ve been a dedicated fan of Prongs for several months now. He is part of a streamer group known as the Marauders along with his friends: Padfoot, Moony, and Wormtail. The four men play games, make jokes, talk shit, and have a very, very dedicated fan base. 

You join the stream while he is still on his ‘stream starting soon’ screen. You quickly type in the chat.

yourusername: hello prongs! hope you’re having a good day <3

Your message is probably lost in the sea of the hundreds of hello messages taking over the chat as people begin joining. You can only hope he sees yours among the rest. You wonder what he does before stream while his starting soon screen plays. Is he at his desk reading chat? Eating a last minute snack?

You jump onto your bed, resting on your belly as you kick your feet in the air. Prongs’ face appears, as handsome and charming as always. His curly hair is unruly, headphones making a dent in the brunette waves where they sit on his head. Your heart flutters when you see him, a giant smile on your face as he greets the chat. You send a second hello then too, eyeing the other messages.

marauders_fan420: play fortnite

thatpenelope: hi prongs!!! ur so hot!!!

prongs_upmyahss: hello chat

Prongs and the other marauders begin playing some new horror game you don’t recognize. You grab a snack from your kitchen, carrying your laptop with you so you don’t miss any part of the stream. As you settle back onto your bed, you get a notification in the chat box. 

It is time to renew your subscription! Announce your resub?

You smile brightly, quickly moving to announce your support of your favorite streamer. You spend a few minutes thinking of what you want to say before sending your message.

You hear Prongs’ subscription announcement alert sound, the talk-to-speech bot reading out your message to him while he plays the game.

TTS Bot: yourusername has resubscribed for 12 months. Hi Prongs! Happy one year. I just wanted to say thank you for all of the good times you have given me over these last 12 months. You always manage to cheer me up when I’m sad and you always know exactly how to make me laugh when I’m stressed. I love you and here’s to another 12 months <3

Your heart pounds as the text to speech bot reads your message, a smile blossoming on the handsome streamer’s face as the robotic voice reaches his ears.

“yourusername, happy one year, love! Boys, it's our anniversary!” Prongs laughs, flicking some hair out of his face. You hear the laughter of the other boys too. Prongs' fingers move over his controller, eyes glued to the game, but his mind on your message. “I’m glad that I’m able to cheer you up when you’re sad. I love you too, angel. Here’s to another year!”

You think you might die, heart skipping several beats in your chest, eyes wide. He loves you too!!! And he called you angel!!!

You do a happy dance in your bed, watching the clip of him reading your name and saying he loves you over and over again. You save it. And you make a backup. You might just be another fan to him, but he is your idol, your dream man, your everything. 

You settle back onto your bed, happier than ever, beaming. You sigh happily as your gaze settles back onto Prongs' face, entirely focused on him and his interactions with his friends.

You reach down to type another message into the chat. Who knows, maybe he’ll notice you again?

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[hanniescookie]

👣 bigger than the whole sky - csc

—⁠☆ and i've got a lot to pine about, i've got a lot to live without, i'm never gonna meet what could've been, would've been, what should've been you.

pairing - choi seungcheol x f!reader

genre/warnings - non idol au, angst, hurt/comfort, husband cheol, mentions of pregnancy, miscarriage, lots of crying and hugging, anxiety, skinship, use of petnames, may be triggering for some so refrain from reading

wc - 893

A/N - posting after a while and here's my first seungcheol drabble that made me shed tears :( inspired by taylor swift's bigger than the whole sky, give the song a listen 🫶🏻

Your eyes shoot open to face the white ceiling illuminated by little stars in the dark of your daughter’s room. Fragments of your fresh dream dance in front of your vision, filling your heart with insurmountable grief.

Tears stream out your eyes as you look around the whole room—a newly bought and decorated cot sitting right beside you, toys and plushies scattered around the floor, even the wall was adorned with small shelves filled with baby books and decor.

All of it for what? For you to lose your child before she even saw the light of this world?

The whole place seems like it has been touched by sadness, and you can't help but curl into yourself on the floor, a sob ripping your throat apart.

You're not sure how long you stay there, wailing like a kid. You only come back to your senses when you feel strong arms pull you up in a familiar embrace. You can't help but snuggle into your husband's chest, letting him hold you while you sob your grief out of your system.

He doesn't say anything save for an ‘it’s okay, i’m here’ twice. You tilt your head up to look in his tired eyes, your own filling with tears once again. “I saw her in my dream.”

Seungcheol smiles albeit there's no happiness to it. It's laced with sadness, and something akin to bitterness. “I'm sure she's pretty like you.”

You shake your head, your fists curling into his shirt to ground your spinning self. “She looks just like you.”

His smile broadens only a little, and his hand comes to cradle your face, slowly wiping your tears with a thumb.

“She was a baby, maybe two months old?” You continue, your voice shaky and heavy but still much more grounded than before. He hums, listening to you while softly threading his fingers in your hair.

You point to the cot beside you. “She was sleeping here and she was smiling. She was waving her hands in the air like…like she wanted me to pick her up. But I just…stood there like a statue. I couldn't touch her.”

“Then she started crying,” you look in his eyes, trying to keep your tears at bay but failing miserably. “And I woke up.”

“Cheol,” you call out in a cracking voice when you feel like he has nothing to say. He hums, smiling for you while his hand rubs soothing cirles on your lower back.

“I wanted to hold her. I wanted to…ugh we planned so much. Where did I go wrong? Why did we have to loose her?”

Your words stab the fragile muscle in Seungcheol’s chest, twisting and turning the dagger till it bled and stained him. He collects you in his arms till you're flush against his chest, pressing a featherlight kiss on your head. “Don't say that, baby.”

“It's not your fault,” he says, softly rubbing your back to calm you down. “It's never yout fault. It's just an unfortunate thing that happened to us, but if we cry, we'll make our daughter sad. She'll want her mom to be happy, yeah?���

You nod fervently against him, as if the mere action would lead you to believe his words. You do, you really do, but it's hard to be happy when you've just lost such a precious part of your life.

He pulls away to look at you, kissing your forehead. “She's looking at us right now, and frowning. Can you hear her scold us?”

You can't help the small smile that finds your lips despite the ache in your chest. “I can hear her. She's saying ‘daddy is too much of a coward for not crying.’”

Seungcheol’s smile widens at first, then dims a little before completely extinguishing off his face. You know he's strong, always stronger than you. You know he's pretending to be okay just so he can collect you from the bedroom floor of your daughter everytime you sleep here. But you also know that he's hurting, and you'd rather hurt together then let him suffer alone.

You hold his face in your hands, thumb softly caressing his cheekbone. “Cheol, just because I carried her doesn't mean you're hurting any less. You're allowed to be sad too.”

He sniffs, shaking his head as if he's trying to erase his possible tears, but before he knows, they're falling down his cheeks. You sigh, letting your tears fall too as your arms wrap tightly around him.

“I miss her,” he mutters in a gruff voice, stuffing his face in your shoulder while still rubbing your back to comfort you. You nod, closing your eyes. “I miss her too.”

Seungcheol looks at you, once again smiling sadly but more hopefully. “And I'm sure she misses us too.”

“Do you think she's lonely up there?”

He shakes his head, instinctively wiping your tears. “I'm sure she's at a much better place. And she'll keep coming in your dreams to lessen your hurt.”

You smile wholeheartedly for the first time in a few days. “I hope so.”

And she does. You see your daughter in your dreams often and you feel like she's growing up with you. Everytime you see her, she's a bit older than before, and you narrate all your dreams to Seungcheol who listens and tells you to give his daughter all his love.

[ashthesalamipiece]

Hormones & Hysterics

Pairing: Kirishima x Reader x Bakugou

Genre: Domestic Fluff | Comedy | Pregnancy Chaos

Warnings: Language, emotional rollercoaster, absurd crying, pure fluff

---

The front door swung open with a soft creak as Katsuki Bakugou and Eijirou Kirishima finally returned home from a three-day mission that involved high-speed chases, collapsing rooftops, and one guy who kept trying to weaponize squirrels.

They were exhausted, sore, and ready for nothing more than warm food, their very pregnant girlfriend, and maybe some peace and quiet.

“Babe?” Kirishima called softly, kicking off his boots.

“Y/N? We’re back!” Bakugou added.

Silence.

Then—

“WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Bakugou froze mid-step. “What the fuck was that.”

Kirishima’s eyes widened. “That was Y/N. That was definitely Y/N crying.”

They rushed down the hall and turned the corner into the living room—and immediately regretted it.

Chaos incarnate.

You were curled in the middle of the couch, big blanket over your bump like a throne of despair, sobbing your absolute soul out. Like, breath-hitching, nose-dripping, mascara-streaked weeping.

Beside you, Mina was laughing so hard she was red in the face, doubled over with a pillow hugged to her bump, while Uraraka had literal tears streaming down her face—not from sadness, but from howling. She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe, occasionally trying to comfort you between hiccups.

“WE—snort—WE TRIED TO STOP HER—”

“I SWEAR I DIDN’T KNOW PAW PATROL: THE MOVIE COULD DO THIS TO PEOPLE,” Mina screamed.

Bakugou’s eye twitched. “Did you say… Paw Patrol?!”

You looked up with red eyes, puffed cheeks, and an absolutely shattered expression.

“THEY LOST THE FIRE TRUCK.” you sobbed, clutching a used tissue like it was a tragic relic. “HE GAVE UP HIS VEHICLE TO SAVE THE PUPPY TOWN—AND NOBODY SAID THANK YOU!”

Kirishima blinked. “…You’re crying over…a cartoon dog?”

You wailed harder.

Bakugou just stood there, in silent, stunned horror.

“We tried to turn it off!” Uraraka shrieked through laughter. “But she just—she started crying harder and said we didn’t believe in the puppies!”

“She threw a pickle jar at the wall!” Mina added. “A sealed pickle jar!”

“I WANTED PICKLES AND I GOT PAIN,” you shouted.

Kirishima crouched beside you and rubbed your back gently like you were mourning a real dog. “Hey, hey—it’s okay, babe. We’re here now. The fire truck’s…probably fine.”

You stared at him with betrayal in your eyes. “It was symbolic, Eijirou.”

“Of course it was,” he nodded seriously. “Deeply symbolic.”

Bakugou just turned slowly, walked to the kitchen, grabbed the emergency stash of chocolate-covered pretzels and came back. “We’re really doing this, huh.”

Mina snorted. “She’s been at it for thirty minutes.”

“She made me rewind the part where the pug salutes five times,” Uraraka added.

Kirishima smiled helplessly. “Pregnancy hormones, man.”

Bakugou groaned, tossing the snacks on your lap. “I fought a dude who turned concrete into bees today, and somehow this is still more terrifying.”

You hiccupped. “The little pug…was so brave…”

Bakugou sat down beside you, pulled you into his arms, and sighed like a man defeated.

And thus, Team Explosive Red Riot spent the rest of their night on a couch surrounded by three pregnant, emotionally volatile women, watching Paw Patrol: The Movie… again. With commentary. And dramatic reenactments.

And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

---

The End.

Need a bonus scene where Bakugou starts tearing up in secret during the next viewing? Because I’m so ready.

[luviisabella]

The Breakup ✮ BNHA UNI. AU

—

Tears streamed down your soft cheeks as you looked down at the screen of your phone. You had finally removed him from your social media after a much needed conversation. While the breakup was almost a year ago.. it had become complicated. Holding onto feelings you didn’t realize you had, anger, heart ache, disappointment.

You finally reached acceptance. You realized you deserved better and that’s why you and your ex were having the conversation. You had told him you were going to remove him so he wouldn’t question it later on. The conversation was emotional as he apologized for how he hurt you and as the anger boiled over your heart, you knew how to forgive.

The minute your finger left the remove button, a weight lifted off your shoulders, and you knew this was just the start of something new. The start of loving a version of you that you were going to have to learn to heal.

You got up out of your bed and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were glossy and your lips a bit red/sore. You tried forcing a soft smile out of yourself before walking out of your dorm. It was 11 at night and you figured nobody was up and if they were they were on late night missions or patrol.

What you weren’t expecting was to see Bakugou in the kitchen baking cookies. The smell drew you in as you walked down the hall. He was wearing a fitted black shirt with matching black sweatpants and gray socks with slippers.

“Why are you up ?” the sudden question spooked you considering his back was turned to you and focused on the baking sheet filled with cookie dough. However you were well aware of the creaky floor and as a young hero, his ability to be observant. You didn’t reply as you walked over, the silence made him turn to look at you and repeat the question but his words fell short once he noticed the look in your eyes.

For a moment it almost seemed as if he was sad, his facial expression slightly shifted before turning his back to you again and focusing on the cookie dough.

You knew he didn’t want to ask, you rarely cry if not at all, and for you to be vulnerable enough to do it in front of him really shows something is wrong. So you answer the lingering questions for him.

“I removed my ex from my socials..”

“Him and I broke up almost a year ago but it was complicated and I realized..” you hesitated, almost as if the tears you were fighting were threatening to come back.

“I realized I deserved more for myself. He hurt me in so many ways and my self worth is too high to tolerate that pain. So I removed him because I needed to let him go completely. I want to heal and learn to care about me for once” your words were fierce, filled with determination to prove something.

There was silence. He said nothing.

Your shoulders fell softly, after your little speech that eagerness slightly faltered as you found a seat at the kitchen counter and watched as baked.

“I have nothing to say cause it seems like you’ve already got it figured out.” you look up, his back is still turned to you as he speaks.

“Any idiot stupid enough to hurt you was never deserving of you anyway. You saved yourself the stress by getting rid of him. Besides, men ain’t shit.” and that remark earns a chuckle from you which was well needed.

The cookies were done in the time you two spoke and he slid the warm plate onto the counter for the two of you two share.

You smiled at the warm feeling, almost wanting to cry as you’re flooded with so many mixed emotions.

“Thank you katsuki” you look up at him and this time he’s already looking at you. A hint of nervousness reaching its way to your cheeks.

“The right guy will come around alright ? So don’t go stressn’ over these dumbasses cause they’ll just waste your time” he stands up to grab a drink from the fridge as you continue eating cookies, taking note of what he said.

Little did you know the ‘right guy’ was the one currently fighting the urge to prove to you till the end of time how he was the only one deserving of you.

But he knew you needed to worry about you first.

He’ll know when you’re ready and for that he’d wait centuries for.

[ashley-foster-13]

Hi! Me again, I just can't stop reading tmr headcanons. Can I request 'what would tmr boys reaction would be if their S/O got kidnapped instead of Minho.' Thank you!

What would tmr boys reaction would be if their S/O got kidnapped instead of Minho

- His s/o was not the type to throw themselves in danger

- however, when the berg showed on the horizon, they were one of the first people to put their hands on a rifle

- Thomas got there late, and there was no s/o in sight, so he figured they were safe

- until they sprang out of nowhere, trying to tackle Janson

- the nearby soldier knocked them out right away

- Thomas struggled against the two soldiers holding him down

- misplaced his shoulder in the process

- he yelled the name of his s/o so loudly he probably wouldn't be able to speak for a week

- a huge fight started, during it the kids, including his s/o were loaded in the berg and took off

- being reckless as he is, Thomas managed to keep Janson off board, beating the living hell out of him

- soldiers stopped him, but not before Ratman was half dead and bleeding

- Thomas didn't hide his tears

- was terrified Wicked would experiment on s/o, or kill, or God knows what else

- wouldn't stop thinking about how to save them

- would do anything to get them out alive

- would have dreams when he saves them and hugs and kisses them, wakes up with tears of happiness streaming down his cheecks only to realize it wasn't real and cry some more, but in fear and sadness

- after saving his s/o, Thomas is super overprotective of them

- like, every little thing, a paper cut or a bruise or a slightly different voice would make him run towards them, asking if they were okay

- eventually came back to normal

- but we all know he's soooooo caring and protective

- the moment he saw his s/o in Wicked's arms, his world stopped

- however, he got out of his stupor quickly, trying to run for you, but the soldier kicked his bad leg, causing him to fall

- when he finally managed to stand up, s/o was already gone

- he kept yelling curses at them, kept hitting those injured soldiers who were left there to die

- it helped nothing and he knew that

- honestly, he could've murdered someone if not for Minho, who held him in a tight hug until he calmed down

- his anger turned to an agony

- he was crying hard, because he was in terrible pain, physically and emotionally

- he vowed to get s/o back safe and sound

- would be the first to find them, as if he felt where they were

- didn't let go of their hand until they reached the Safe Haven

- both didn't go out of the hut for a couple of days, talking, crying and promising their love to each other

- when he barely escaped being captured by Wicked, he thought the victory was there

- little did he know they grabbed s/o instead

- s/o bravely fought the soldiers, but Minho couldn't see it

- and then his s/o stands on the berg, helplessness in their eyes as they take off

- and Minho just stands there, angry at Wicked, and furious with himself for being unable to help

- Newt and Thomas promise they'll find his s/o

- he became very grumpy after that, but also really really silent

- sometimes his bottled up feelings would unleash on everyone because of any little thing

- like a stupid question, or a fallen fork

- he wpuld be so eager to find his s/o he didn't even think when he stalked inside the Wicked headquarters fighting off every soldier like they were bugs

- he found s/o exhausted, hurt and bleeding

- but they were alive, that's all that mattered

- hugged them all the way back

- watched as the medics patched them up, controlling everything

- never leaving their side while rlthey recovered

[ettraxx]

She Leaned In

Lena awakens with a start, the medical bed is deathly silent all about her. Shooting up she looks to the bed, and sees its dimly glowing golden surface is empty. She rushes to the door, unable to speak, choking with fear. Exiting the med bay, she rushes out in desperate search for Kara fearing that the entire rescue was a dream.

In a moment of silent relief she sees Kara in the tower’s largest and most open space leaning against the back of a sofa on unsteady legs. Without a second thought or a single word, she comes up behind the blonde and swiftly wraps her arms around her in as warm an embrace as she has ever given.

Kara uncharacteristically, freezes and stiffens at the touch. Lena undaunted presses herself against Kara’s back sharing her warmth. Kara’s right arm stiffly and oh so slowly reaches up to hold Lena’s. Her hand hesitates to connect for an incredibly long moment. To Lena’s delight and relief the surprisingly cold hand grasps her own.

Kara releases the breath she didn’t even know she was holding. Expecting the entire world around her to fall away the moment she believed it was true. Expecting the tower itself to shatter and for that hellscape to return. Kara nearly collapses in that moment. But Lena’s arms hold tight and she stands firm.

If this were not the culmination of so many weeks of desperation to save her, Lena might chuckle at the idea that she was the strong one holding up Supergirl this time. Instead a sharp pain in her chest begins to fade as she holds as tightly as she can on to the Kryptonian. They had all fought so hard to save her and she won’t let Kara fall back in to that cold darkness.

Kara sobs silently, the weight of the Phantom Zone still resting so heavy on her shoulders. The only thing she can let herself focus on in this moment is elegant arms interlacing around her and the calm breathing and familiar heartbeat of the only other person that maters in the world. They stand in silence for what feels like years before Kara finally speaks.

Her voice cracks, as if from years of disuse. “He was never really there was he?”

“You… you were all alone when we found you.” Lena responds, sadness at the edges of her voice. “But your not alone anymore, never again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Lena.” Coldly responds the Woman of Steel.

With surprising strength, Lena spins Kara around in her arms. Locking her own blood shot eyes on to Kara’s. She had never seen Kara this defeated before, not even in all the inches were fighting. She doesn’t hesitate to speak with all of her strength and compassion.

“I will never leave you Kara. I almost gave up all of National City just to get you back.” Lena’s doesn’t hold back her tears. “I didn’t sleep for days after Lex banished you. All any of us could do was try desperately to get you back.”

“You brought me a sun.” Responds Kara with a faint smile curling her lips, if only for a moment. “You shouldn’t have tried, I’m not worth it.”

Lena tightens her grip on her best friend and looks desperately in to her eyes. “Don’t you dare say that! You mean so much to so many people.” Tears are fully streaming down Lena’s pale cheeks now. “You are a beacon of hope to National City, an amazing friend to Nia and Brainy, a surrogate daughter to J’onn. You’re Alex’s sister for god’s sake.” Lena hesitates for only a moment before continuing no longer willing to hide. “And you mean everything to me. I… I’m in love with you, Kara. I think I always have been.”

Kara’s eyes focus on Lena. The tears still streaming down her pale cheeks, her emerald eyes shining so brightly, and her teeth hesitantly bitting against her red lip. Kara wants to say so much but can’t trust her voice. She slowly closes her eyes and inhales deeply. Holding her breath and her eyes for a moment too long, Kara hesitates to open them.

When she does open her eyes and release her trapped breath, she sees Lena is still there. The tower is still around them, the Phantom Zone is gone. Locking her eyes once more on to Lena’s crimson lips, Kara gives in to years of repressed feelings and longing glances. She leans in and without a word she presses her own lips to Lena’s. Her unsteady arms wrap around Lena, and Lena’s own arms reposition themselves around Kara.

Lena responds to the kiss with equal passion, holding back only because Kara is still sluggish from her ordeal. The two women remain in their embrace for a short eternity before they break the kiss. Kara leaning on Lena as she once more feels the weakness creeping through her. Lena never for a moment letting the weight of the Kryptonian wear her down.

Kara soon recovers enough to stand on her own, but can’t bring herself to stop pressing herself to Lena’s warmth. She smiles the largest and most natural smile she has mustered since being rescued. “I think I need to go back to bed.” She stumbles out.

“I will take you to bed.” Responds Lena with a smile greater than any Kara had seen in a very long time. “And I’ll be right at your side until you wake up once more.”

“I love you too Lena.” Finally says Kara, her voice stronger than it has been. “I know the kiss gave it away, but I still wanted to say the words.”

“I appreciate it Kara.” Responds Lena choking back tears of joy as the two begin the journey back to the medical bed.

Lena lays Kara on the bed, and the solar lamps kick back on instantly. Kara’s head comes to a stop on the small and firm pillow. She can feel the artificial yellow sunlight bombarding her body. She unleashes a faint sigh and continues to grasp hold of Lena’s hand in her own. Kara’s eyes flutter shut as her body begins to relax and absorb the yellow light.

“I’m going to be right here when you wake.” Whispers Lena soothingly.

[triflesandparsnips]

So I understand that there are Good Omens show fans who have never read Good Omens the book, and that makes me deeply sad because--

Like, there's so much depth to the story being told about humans and humanity and the choice between good and evil -- and how that's actually a false dichotomy whoooops -- WHILE ALSO not really being about Aziraphale and Crowley at all (who are, imo, basically there as embodiments of "Impressive Failures" for the purposes of Theme and also Plot).

BUT IF you want to know why I've shipped them since the book-- here's the moment it happened for wee teenage me:

Wednesday (before the end of the world)

So it's Warlock's birthday party. And there are all these children and security guards and also an angel doing magic tricks while a demon is disguised as a caterer. This bit is basically the same as the show, so hooray.

But as wee me understood the characters up to this point, they were still basically enemies who had been in the field together for way too long and knew each other's moves well enough for the same tempting/thwarting of one another to become kind of boring and repetitive and generally pointless-- particularly once they realized that they could, for instance, just live their (separate!) lives watching humans being weird (Crowley) and seeking various sensory stuff (Aziraphale) while doing the least work necessary to keep their respective bosses off their backs.

The Arrangement was borne not out of hiding a friendship or anything, but instead the realization that sometimes covering for one another would just... cut down on their total overall workload. They were, at best, employees of two different, competitive companies-- though in same kind of department, doing the same kind of work-- who discovered they liked to have lunch at the same deli and that their jobs were sometimes distressingly more similar than either was comfortable with.

SO ANYWAY. BACK TO THAT WEDNESDAY. They're not covering for one another with this whole Antichrist thing-- they're now actively collaborating, and they've acknowledged (mostly) that it's not to cut down on their individual workloads, but rather to preserve their identical-- but not shared (not yet)-- goals of Getting To Continue The Lives On Earth They've Grown To Enjoy.

But like-- still not friends. Not really.

Until Aziraphale fucks up a bit, Warlock accidentally gets hold of a security guard's weapon and starts waving it around, and:

Then someone threw some jelly at Warlock. The boy squeaked, and pulled the trigger of the gun. It was a Magnum .32, CIA issue, gray, mean, heavy, capable of blowing a man away at thirty paces, and leaving nothing more than a red mist, a ghastly mess, and a certain amount of paperwork. Aziraphale blinked. A thin stream of water squirted from the nozzle and soaked Crowley, who had been looking out the window, trying to see if there was a huge black dog in the garden. Aziraphale looked embarrassed. Then a cream cake hit him in the face.

My teenage brain exploded at this moment.

BECAUSE: there is no reason for Aziraphale to do that.

Work-wise: If he got shot, Crowley would get discorporated, but not die-- and anyway, it would happen in such a way that both of them could explain it away easily to their respective sides (and possibly even be commended for it!).

Collaboration-wise: If Crowley had been watching Aziraphale, and if he'd seen Aziraphale have the chance to change the gun but not do it-- then yeah, probably that would've been annoying enough to have warranted some chilly conversations once he came back topside, and therefore, Aziraphale choosing to save Crowley could've been a reasonable, logical choice to keep their working relationship on an even keel until they'd sorted out this Doomsday thing.

But Crowley was looking the other way.

Work-wise, it doesn't make sense-- and secret-collaboration-wise, it doesn't make sense-- and so it is, overall, really weird that Aziraphale saved him.

But his automatic reaction-- in a blink-- is to stop Crowley from getting shot. And he knows it's weird-- he feels embarrassed that his sudden, unthinking reaction is to save his "enemy".

And the final bit is just a couple paragraphs later:

With a gesture, Aziraphale turned the rest of the guns into water pistols as well, and walked out.

SO LOOK: He changed only the pistol about to shoot Crowley. His automatic reaction had nothing to do with saving a party full of humans, many of them children-- nothing to do with Heaven or Hell-- nothing to do with preserving the coworker he needs to stop Armageddon--

It was all to do with saving Crowley. Who may be the enemy, but he's Aziraphale's enemy. And another part of his life on Earth that he's doing all of this just to preserve.

Which may also be, for the first time, the moment he lets himself realize how important Crowley in particular is to him.

...and so anyway, that's how I started shipping these two immortal idiots, and one of many reasons why everyone should read the book.

[azzibuckets]

now that we don’t talk part 1 [paige bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you and paige break up and neither of you know how to move on properly with your life

a/n: decided to go for some angst again…didn’t really have an aim or a direction when writing this so not sure if i should turn this into a series or not ? lmk what yall think

word count: 1.5k

masterlist | next

The First Week

In the first week, Paige had fallen into her daily routine. Her moments of forgetfulness were instinctual; she’d laid a dollop of minty Crest toothpaste on her blue toothbrush before doing the same thing to your red one, leaving it hanging over the edge of the counter.

The first time she did it, she’d hadn’t even noticed. It was only when she’d turned her mouth to catch the water under the faucet that she’d spotted your toothbrush that she’d set up, ready with Crest, as if you’d pop in any moment to stick it in your mouth and start scrubbing. Paige had almost choked on the water she’d been gurgling, grief worming its way up her throat and making it hard to breathe.

Heaving, she’d stood over the sink, hand gripping both sides of the counter to support herself until her knuckles turned white. It took all her strength not to buckle over from the precipitous wave of agony that had collided into her with gut-wrenching speed.

But for some reason, Paige had stuck your toothbrush under the stream of water then placed it carefully back in its cup. And so she’d made the same mistake the day after. This time, when she realized what she’d done, it wasn’t the weight of sadness that compressed her lungs, but a brewing storm of fury. Her vision had gone red, and she’d grabbed the toothbrush and hurled it against the wall as hard as she could, with a strength that she didn’t even know that she’d still had. And this time, when Paige stared at the toothpaste dripping slowly down the wall, mocking her as it made a mess on the floor, the counter couldn’t save her. She’d succumbed to the force of her fury dragging her down, and had crumpled to the floor, sobs racking her body.

The First Month

Your room was dark, in almost sub-freezing temperatures with the windows wide open to welcome in the frosty, bone-chilling winter air that Connecticut was known for. The only light in the room came from the dim glow of your laptop screen, opened live to the UConn women’s basketball game playing live on ESPN.

At first, you’d attempted to be nonchalant whenever Paige sunk yet another basket with ease, making the crowd and commentators going feral as she celebrated with her signature moves. But as the game between UConn and Stanford got closer and closer, you couldn’t help but smile when Paige crossed over her defense, sending them flying to the floor and leaving her wide open to score yet another 3. It reminded you all too well of the Paige you’d met and fallen in love with, whose confidence on the court had made you start viewing her as more than just your teammate.

But any trace of smile on your face quickly vanished once you watched Paige’s post-game interview during the livestream. “You’ve had quite a run this season despite being out for most of your sophomore and junior year due to injury. Who would you like to thank for your unpredented comeback?”

“I’d like to thank God. He’s been with me through everything, given me trials to test my resilience. In fact, he’s made me stronger than ever.” Paige had paused. You’d recognized her hesitance; the way she nibbled her bottom lip, her mouth half open as she debated a response, the uncertainty in her eyes as they flickered. But she seemed to recover from any reluctance, and what she said next made your heart drop. “I’d also like to thank my girlfriend, Leslie.” She motioned to someone off camera, and soon the frame was filled with tousled brown hair and soft green eyes.

Paige pulled her in close, and your world spun as you watched Paige, your Paige, press her lips against the brunette. Your hands had reached up to tear your headphones off your head, unable to further listen to the claps and hoots of the crowd along with the cooing of the commentators without feeling the need to throw up. But before you could, Paige had started speaking again. Your hands froze. You hated yourself for it, but you had to listen.

“She’s been with me through everything, from freshman year to now. She was my number one supporter when I got injured.” She wrapped her arm around Leslie’s waist, staring intently at the camera, and never before had you been this sickened staring at the blue eyes you’d once adored, could’ve spent hours getting lost in. “But even outside of my injury, Les has been on my side. Especially with all the immature drama that happened on the court last year, she was really a clear voice in all of that. So I’m pretty grateful for her.”

Leslie’s mouth split into a grin, and she turned to pull Paige in for another kiss, and that was when you slammed your laptop so hard that when you opened it the next morning, you were surprised to see that the screen hadn’t shattered.

You were not someone who cried. Your family members, your friends, Paige could all attest to that. But the torment that was clawing its way through your body, threatening to suffocate you, finally exploded. Tears had surged from your eyes, seemingly never ending, and you’d cried so much that night that it suddenly made sense why you’d almost never cried before; it was like all the tears in your life had been pent up, waiting for this moment, for when the pin fell.

That night was the lowest you’d ever felt in your life, and possibly even the lowest you’ve ever acted - blinded by a jealous rage over the girl that Paige had always promised you not to worry about, the girl Paige was basically making out with on live television just one month after you guys had broken up (and when it’d taken her two years to show PDA with you), you’d gone on all your social media accounts and blocked Paige on every single one of them.

Then an idea came to you. An act of retaliation that would hurt Paige as much as she hurt you. So you’d reopened Twitter, unblocked Paige. You’d scrolled until you found the perfect tweet. Your thumb had hovered for a split second over the like button, haunted by images of Paige’s hand trailing your stomach, her hair brushing your eyes, her mouth on your neck, before it was violently replaced by the image of Paige locking lips with the brunette flooding your mind, causing you to jam your thumb down with ferocity on the like button. You’d slammed the final nail in the coffin by deleting the app so that you couldn’t go back and undo your action before word got around to Paige.

The First Year

You thought you knew grief. You thought you’d familiarized yourself with every aspect of mourning: the realization in the morning, when your eyes open and you lose the blissful state of dreaming and you’re confronted with the harsh truths of the world. Or the late nights, when you’re restless and can’t sleep because of jealousy plaguing your mind. Even the deep longing of missing someone’s touch so bad that you swear that you can almost almost smell their perfume.

So you thought you knew grief - until your grandma died. It had been a matter of time. She’d had breast cancer, and for years now the doctors had been saying any time. But that still didn’t prepare you for the overwhelming pain that consumed all your senses, making it hard to think or eat or sleep or even breathe.

The first few nights after you received the news, you stared at the ceiling, unblinking until the early hours of the morning when the sun started creeping up through your windows. But you couldn’t even cry; you felt like a broken faucet. What the fuck was wrong with you? Sobbing over your stupid ex that you’d broken up with an entire year ago, but unable to shed a tear for your grandma, the woman who had single-handedly raised you. You were exhausted to the point of no return. When would everything stop hurting?

You’d only torn your eyes from your ceiling when your phone had lit up. It was 4 AM, and you wondered who it could be. You checked your phone, and every part of your body froze when you read the notifications.

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

I’m so sorry

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

I just heard the news

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

Don’t know if you’re even active on here anymore but it’s the only way I could reach you. If you see this, I just want to ask you to not keep your grief to yourself. Isolating yourself won’t make the pain go away. Make sure to talk to someone

Your heart had ached, your phone trembling in your hand. Because Paige had cared enough to send you a message, on the same app where you’d given the tabloids a wet dream and caused the UConn fandom to go into a spiral by liking a hate tweet about Paige. She’d cared enough to disregard all that to make sure you were okay. But she still hadn’t cared enough to offer to be that someone that she wanted you to talk to so bad.

So you’d left her on read, without responding. Had slipped back into your sheets, your head pounding and your lungs aching. This time the tears fell out easily.

[colossrat]

You ever think about how Captain Marvel looks like CC Batson because that is who Billy sees as a hero, but overtime he might take on attributes from the other heroes. Do you ever think about how one day Billy might look into a mirror as Captain Marvel and realize he doesn’t see his father‘s face anymore?

Yeah me neither

let's think about it now then bcs its genius

(I don't know if you're citing this post here but it exists if you want to take a look! well and this is a good take to revisit)

Billy has always assimilated his magical form to his father, but it's not like he periodically looks in the mirror to reaffirm this. It's also not like he enjoys seeing his own father every time he sees his reflection… it's a good symbolism and tribute, but imagine when Billy loses a fight? When he fails to save a life? The last thing he would want to see is the sad look on his own father's face, the look of disappointment in himself so he avoids mirrors, or looking at himself in photos, and it's not like he has much internet access to see the videos or news he appears in. Sometimes he catches a glimpse of his reflection, but he's not one to analyze it. Until one day he catches Mary staring at him as they look out over the city from a rooftop

Marvel: Is there something on my face?

He'd ask innocently, knowing it wasn't until a few minutes ago that they ate some ice cream the stand owner gave them for free. Maybe his face was dirty? But Mary just shrugs, and although she looks a little uncomfortable, she doesn't say anything

This happens a few more times, and Billy knows it can't be just a coincidence no more

Marvel: What is it? Just tell me, please. Did I do something?

Mary: No! You didn't do anything, it's just… I saw a picture the other day of your first appearance as Captain Marvel. And you looked a lot like Dad… a lot, and I noticed that recently you don't-- look that much anymore…

Marvel: What...? Like, am I getting older? I didn't think my Captain form could age…

Mary: I don't think that's it. I don't know what it really is at all. You just changed, you know? It's not bad, it's just… you're more you, you know? Less like Dad, more like you if you were this magic greek fridge

Marvel laughed, though he didn't understand what that really meant. He decided it wasn't anything important. Mary said it wasn't bad, so there was no need to worry about it

But then, in the watchtower, when he was on a boring monitor duty late one night, he found himself staring into space, and eventually his vision blurred and he saw his own reflection, obscured by the background, but it was him��

He was drifting off, not paying attention, which is why he was even more surprised when his brain computed that the reflection wasn't of someone he knew…

He started and turned around in fright, searching for whoever was in the room with him. But there was no one

He looked back at the window, focusing to see his own reflection, and then his breath caught, and suddenly everything made sense. It was him. It wasn't his father's face, or his own baby face, but it was him… his face, his features…? Okay, maybe there was a little something here and there that he could tell came from his coworkers, but it was a big change

His image used to be a replica of his father, but now it was himself, with some influences from his heroes. but mostly him...

Billy couldn't say he was happy to no longer have his father's reflection in the mirror, but another kind of feeling mixed in his stomach. Anxiety? Happiness? Pride?

This was his way of finally realizing that he'd become something good enough? That he'd become the hero he wanted to be. Not just his hero, but a mix of several he adored, loved, and was inspired by, including himself. He'd finally become someone he could call good enough? Something he was proud of. Is this his way of understanding that he was happy and satisfied with being himself? instead of just imitating others?

He certainly felt a few tears stream down his face, but he tried to save this new knowledge for when he was alone and not working

[aebinspa]

dopamine

PAIRING: giselle x y/n reader

GENRES: suggestive, angst, reader hates giselle and they end up doing a project for school together lmao, meangirl!giselle, reader and giselle are a menace to society, jimin (aespa) and juyeon (tbz) are in a study group together and they are incredibly optimistic, mentions of sex, kiss, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: english is not my first language! so i’m practicing my writing hoping it can get better and better. AND stream giselle's dopamine it's so good <3

Nothing could have prepared you for the worst news of your life: you, aware that you love loneliness and hate forced contact with others, were assigned to group work with Aeri Uchinaga, famous for not contributing to any group work and for being always in the middle of too many, too many men.

After leaving a resigned sigh you approach your best friend Jimin to tell her about the unfortunate fate that struck you. "Among all and I say among all those that could happen to me, HER" "You’re tragic even if she has a bad reputation. Perhaps a woman like you who does nothing but read, read, and read will surrender and become incredibly willing!" "Funny Jimin. Who did you get?" "Juyeon and they also say that besides being incredibly beautiful he is also incredibly gifted" whispers Jimin, thinking that this could save her from the embarrassment of such a statement. "Enough, I’ve heard enough. I’m going home."

On the way back, angry and sad, you noticed a really nice coffee in which you would have wanted to stop but the change that you had in your wallet would not be enough even for half a sandwich. The puff you pulled out scared a stray cat that was stealing a piece of bread from the ground. Why does everything feel so strange to me?

The next day, as you arrived in class, you noticed Juyeon’s huge body very close to your best friend’s; you came up to check if Jimin was all right only to see that her face had a loving expression. "Good morning guys" you are starting, trying to forget what you just saw. "Hi, Jimin told me a few things about you. How nice to meet you" The two-door wardrobe that took the name of Juyeon squeezed you in a strong embrace that leaves you breathless. Men are really scary. "Hey Y/N, Giselle was looking for you earlier." "Who?" "That’s how us boys call her!" "You… guys?" "Giselle is part of my group, at least once we all go out together!" Juyeon’s enthusiasm was overwhelming but not enough to influence you. "Ah, she's going out with you."

"Y/N" What a hateful voice, not changed by a comma. You didn’t sunbathe at first; you wanted to see how much the little princess could have withstood without a bit of attention. Juyeon - this time with the help of Jimin - thought about involving her. "You might as well look me in the eye when I talk to you." "Go fuck yourself, Giselle. You sound like the 'ass-kicking' girl”. It didn’t take even half a second for you both to turn in the opposite direction. Jimin and Juyeon, moved by the situation, tried to calm things down. “How about you girls come to my house? Jimin and I have to do our project but there’s no problem if you come too. The table is big, the fridge is full and the more the merrier!” Juyeon shouted enthusiastically.

The idea of ​​being alone in an empty room with Giselle terrified you so it didn’t seem like a bad idea to accept without too many problems; the other seemed to agree too.

“Perfect! Then let’s all go to Juyeon’s this Friday afternoon!” Oh Jimin, you could have avoided this.

Unfortunately for you and Giselle, Friday arrives in the blink of an eye. Juyeon’s imposing house stood in front of you and Jimin. “Not only is he handsome and gifted, but he also has a huge house. What more can I ask for?” “You could say a little prayer for me, for example” “Giselle won’t be able to tear your hair out if Juyeon and I are there with you” Jimin smiled at you as if to reassure you. “Good thing you always see the positive side…” you replied, already tired at the idea of having to enter that house.

When you entered, Giselle was already sitting on the wicker chair in the lush garden that was attached to the house. “Girls, here you are. Jimin can you help me bring some snacks out?” Jimin didn't have to be told a second time and rushed to help the boy after sending you a flying wink. You approached Giselle and sat in the chair opposite her, to maintain some distance. It was the first time you had seen her like this. The dark hair that she always combined with clothes of the same shade was this time combined with a long white dress that made her almost ethereal; the glasses made her face prettier than the one she had always adorned only with heavy black makeup which yes suited her well but a lighter shade made it stand out even more. Maybe you found yourself staring at her too much because when your eyes met you saw a smirk of victory on the girl’s face.

“Are you admiring what you’ll never have?” “And what is this thing I’ll never have? Dignity?” “The chance to brag about how beautiful you are” “Oh, the princess of everyone’s bed spoke” “I don’t have sex with men” Giselle replied somewhat upset. “Oh, so all the things they say about you are false?” “My group of friends is made up of all gay men and one straight man” Concern for Jimin filled you for a moment and you stopped the conversation in progress. “Juyeon's not gay, right?” “As if your eyes can't see how he's hitting on your best friend, you dumbass.” "Here's all the snacks!" Your darkened and frowning faces turned abruptly towards the two newlyweds and then shouted "Shut up!" Jimin resignedly rolled her eyes.

The first half hour you and Giselle spent arguing over the theme of the PowerPoint presentation. “This is an old lady color” “This is a funeral color though Y/N!” "You love funeral colors!"

The next two hours were spent looking for information on the same topics which later turned out to be identical; cause for further argument. When Juyeon and Jimin finished their work, you were still in the first part of the project. Your best friend and the guy disappeared somewhere after two minutes; when you received a message from Jimin you found out that the two had gone to stock up on chips.

“So you hate me?” You never expected to see such a piercing look on Giselle’s face. “No, I find you annoying and everything they say around you about you seems to confirm it” “I already told you this is all fucking fake” The black-haired girl ran a hand through her hair and turned her gaze elsewhere. “People love to say everything that comes to their mind. I'm a lesbian, men don't interest me. After I refused to have sex with a guy I was paired up with for a group project, he went around telling people that I'm a terrible partner and that well… slutshaming and other not-so-nice things about me."

The silence that followed immediately afterward was extremely embarrassing for both of them. “I said a bunch of bullshit, I'm sorry. I always imagined you through gossip, even though I know that Jimin doesn’t think of you as a slacker and that Juyeon is your best friend” “Y/N” Giselle tried to butt in. “Listen Aeri, I’ll make it up to you. I don’t like you but I have to admit that despite the various arguments you’re a real looker and what you say sometimes makes me laugh so all in all, you’re not bad” Giselle laughed. “Oh my god, are these supposed to be an apology?” "My apologies" “You should make them better. No nice man would pursue such a lunatic." “I'm not interested in men. They're just accessories to me.”

Giselle only stopped laughing when you said that. “But the two boyfriends you had last year?” Without asking how she knew, you continued with your speech. “A Cover to keep my parents from realizing I’m a lesbian. Same old story. They were nice accessories at least”

The tension between the two of you was growing more and more. Giselle slowly approached you, first placing a hand on the floor where you were lying and then bringing a leg forward. “How long has it been since you kissed a woman, Y/N?” You gulped down. “How long has it been since you kissed a woman, Aeri?” Giselle was a millimeter from your lips, hand on your thigh, and hand next to yours. If only it hadn't been for the scream that Juyeon pulled open the door, something would have happened, Giselle quickly moved away and muttered “What an idiot he is” as if the house didn't belong to him to begin with.

“We’re back! Is everything okay or did you get into a fight?” A restrained, fake laugh came out of your mouth and so did the words that came out of it. “We were one step away from having ourselves by the hair” You couldn't describe the look Giselle gave you.

The next day at school, you noticed that Giselle’s desk was empty. Worried, even though you didn’t want to admit it, you asked Juyeon for the girl’s number. Juyeon couldn’t help but smile as you saved the number on your phone. You immediately texted Giselle, asking why she hadn’t come to school and threatening to break into her house through the window if she didn’t answer. To your surprise, Giselle responded a few minutes later with a raised middle finger emoji; to which you of course responded with another middle finger. The next message made you lose your mind. “Bitch, I'm waiting for you at my house. Don't break my door, please”.

As you walked towards Giselle's house, you wondered where this interest in such an annoying person had come from. Interest was a big word, but yesterday you were the one who almost threw yourself into the arms of a girl you felt like you had hated for a lifetime.

When you arrived in front of Giselle's house, you knocked so loudly that the one who looked out the window was the neighbor and not the interested girl. "Holy God, what a mess you make!" Giselle in pajamas and slippers opened the door and made you smile. “Cute pajamas” “Go shit”

You went up the stairs and arrived in the girl's room. The room, to your surprise, was pink wherever you turned to look at it. “Hello Kitty puked on it?” “Perhaps you mean My Melody” “Even the canopy bed, princess” Giselle lay down on the bed and waited for you to do the same. “Shall we finish the work?” “I’m in”

Compared to the day before, things seemed to be going better. It wasn’t just the arguments that kept the exchange of information going but also the moments where you both dedicated time to listening to each other’s opinions.

“Done! And fuck it all!” “Hopefully we get a good grade” "God Y/N who cares! It's already a miracle to have managed to finish something like this." You nodded to let the other person understand that for once you agreed on everything. You printed out the sheets with the part that each of you had to do for the presentation and then threw yourselves on the bed again, tired of everything.

“Do you find school that fun?” Giselle was the first to speak. “No, simply when I don't know what to do I start reading, reading, reading. At least that’s what Jimin says” “I can’t stand it.” “Maybe you can't stand the people who are there” “Yes, but I hate everything about that place. The desks, the air that makes me uglier, the men, the homework, and group studies" You thought a few more seconds before answering her and, taking a deep breath, you turned towards her. "I can make you change your mind" “You can try but I don't know how well it works” “There's me and Jimin in the class. Then we can study together and everything will seem fun!” “See… You like school” Giselle's face darkened. “I enjoy being with Jimin. There's also Juyeon! And well… I'm here." Giselle turned away and didn't speak to you anymore.

A day went by and Giselle never replied to your messages. That morning you were supposed to present the group project. Not only had she stopped responding to the messages you were sending her under the desk, but she was also late for the presentation. A terrible thought passes through your mind. Did she stay home? She knows that the teacher gives a failing grade when something like that happens.

Jimin and Juyeon brilliantly finished their presentation and the applause, luckily for you since you were supposed to present later, lasted for two minutes. “Y/N and Giselle are next. However, I see that one of the two is missing. I will have to give you a good-” The classroom door suddenly burst open and all the eyes of your classmates and yours moved from the teacher to the figure of Giselle, who noisily began with a “Teacher, Y/N and I are ready to present!” A small smile appeared on your face.

Fortunately, the presentation given by you and Giselle surprised the class and the teacher who seemed to have very low expectations. During the break, you grabbed Giselle by the arm and led her to a secluded space. It was she who spoke first. "Excuse" “Don't be sorry, strangely everything went well” A silly bit of tongue from Giselle made you grin. “It went better than expected, yes.” You nodded. That silence that now characterized your relationship was starting to be too heavy to bear. Giselle came close to your face. “Teach me what having fun at school means, you little bitch,” she began while doing nothing but staring at your lips. "I know a better way to have fun." It was your hand that brought your bodies together and united them. Within seconds, Giselle approached your lips and began to kiss you without fear of being seen. Your tongues and legs intertwined as the kiss became more wet and passionate. You were the first to break away from the kiss, leaving you breathless. “We're going a little too fast” “We're just reversing the lessons a little bit. I kissed you first so you can teach me all that bullshit about how great school is." “And what happens after I teach you everything you need to know about school?” The bell announced the end of the break. “Well, after that I can see if I trust you and if we can go further.” "So kiss, school, sex, and only if these three work can we be together?" A loud laugh escaped your lips and Giselle without answering began to head towards your classroom.

“You know Y/N, maybe my plan could work” “There’s never been a plan that I couldn’t make work” The look you exchanged sealed a long and lasting agreement between you.

[xiaomero]

pairings: scaramouche x reader

genre: angst.

word count: 806.

trigger warning: suicide, arguing / yelling.

art credit: sherisuu on x.

scaramouche wore his mask and placed his camera onto his desk to start the stream. as seconds passed by the chat started to flow with comments saying hi and asking how he was doing.

“hi,” he greeted them and started to read the chat out loud. “-how are you?- i’m good i guess. -are you going dye your hair?- nah, not anytime soon. -what are you going to play today?- i will play something i wrote…i was going to release it officially but i think i won’t….” he answered and watched people going crazy over a new song.

he sat down to the chair and put his notebook in front of him.

he took a deep breath, looked at his band aided fingers for a moment and lined them correctly on the strings.

and started playing and singing.

he was giving all of his heart into his voice. chat was silent for the first time this afternoon because they never saw him like this.

now all the birds have fled, the hurt just leaves me scared.

losing everything i've ever known…

he took a deep breath again.

it's all become too much…maybe I'm not built for love.

the breath stuck in his throat.

if i knew that i could reach you, i would go…

it's in my heart and in my head, you can't take back the things you said.

so high above, i feel it coming down…

she said, "In my heart and in my head, tell me why this has to end?”

oh no, oh no!

it was hard to breathe.

i can’t save us, my atlantis…

we fall, we built this town on shaky ground-!

bang!

the door slammed to wall and his his mom entered the room. she was looking at him with disbelief and anger in her eyes.

“didn’t i tell you to stop playing with such nonsenses and be serious about your life!?” the woman yelled at the boy and tried to get his guitar out of his hands.

“stop it!” scaramouche yelled at her back while trying to keep his guitar. “don’t touch it!” he was getting furious.

“you are just wasting your life with shit like this! i won’t let you turn out like him, okay? do you hear me!?” she said with agony and threw the guitar to the ground.

he watched his guitar, split in two pieces, in silence for a few seconds.

his vision started to get blurry and his head was spinning.

“i…” he whispered. “i hate you.” he got up and grabbed his guitar and the camera and closed it, which ended the stream immediately.

then he ran up to the door and got outside.

it was raining like crazy, but he did not care and started running to you, his only escape from this reality he was stuck in.

he ran, ran and ran until he got to your home. he opened the door and scanned for you. when he saw you were sleeping, he sighed and lied down next to to you.

your bed was wet and dirty. there were flowers all around. he looked at your sleeping figure.

“look what she did to my guitar…” he put the guitar next to you. “if she knew how hard you worked for this secretly every fucking day for months just to gift it to me, would she do the same thing? you know, she used to love you.” he looked at you for an answer but you didn’t say anything as usual.

“i wrote a song. with the music we produced to be a love song…you wouldn’t be angry if it was a little…sad, instead of being a happily-ever-after love song, right?” he waited in silence.

“i didn’t release it tho, i just sang a little…which ended horribly. i didn’t know she was home, she shouldn’t have been home until tomorrow.” he whined a little.

“wanna listen to some music?” he looked at your dead stare. “oh yes, you always loved more when i sing it myself…but i kinda lost my voice because of all the…y’know.“ he said and chuckled a bit.

and then, a single tear fell onto his cheeks.

“i wish…i could hear you.“

he watched you, for hours. without seeing your face.

his clothes were dirty because of the mud.

his hair was soaking wet because of the rain.

he was freezing cold because of your grave stone he was leaning towards.

more hours passed by,

rain has stopped.

sky was clear,

his heart was beating fast.

he got something from his pocket,

and swallowed it with joy.

he closed his eyes,

he fell asleep.

he opened his eyes…

he smiled,

he was with you again.

do not copy / translate or use my work.

[oncasette]

FANGTASIA. send in a character from my guide + one of the prompts below for a drabble!

how about... "you shouldn't have touched them. every single mark on their body is going to be returned to yours." wiiith our mans eric northman!

please, thank you, love youuu!!! 🩵🩵

𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗𝗡'𝗧 𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗠𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞

eric northman x fem!reader

summary: 1.3k

You’d had vampire blood. Pam and Chow had been gracious enough to offer you their wrists months after you’d started working at Fangtasia, a safety precaution as they’d claimed. You'd had Eric's blood. He could feel your fear, he knew where you were, why wasn't he coming?

or the one where eric saves you from an anti-vampire rights enthusiast.

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, death, kidnapping, stabbing

a/n: i know i said drabbles but i couldn't contain myself. i am violently ill with my love for this man.

masterlist | taglist

You think you're dying. surely. There's no way the human body would be able to endure this much pain without ultimately giving up the ghost, right? 

You never should have gotten involved with vampires. They were nothing but a bucket of trouble, as your mother would have put it. And has she had put it, a multitude of times, before she'd ever even known you'd applied to work at Shreveport's resident vampire bar. 

What she didn't know, though, was how incredible they could be. How, even without all their supernatural abilities, intensely good they could be when they decided they wanted. How loyal and caring and kind when they chose to do so. Just how beautiful they could be, fangs and all. 

‘Course, there still was that whole bucket of trouble thing. 

"You sure are pretty for a fangbanger," your captor drawled from where he was watching you from across the room. He'd tied you to a chair at the center of it, thick scratchy ropes binding your wrists to the unlaquered wood beneath you. You spit, knowing that it won't reach the man from this distance, but hoping, almost willing it to hit him squarely between the eyes. 

“Fuck you,” you say.

“Ooh,” he whistles. “You’ve sure got a mouth on you, sweet cheeks. Why waste it on one of those dead fuckers when you could have someone with an actual, bleeding fucking heart?”

“You’re a waste of skin, you piece of shit,” you huff. Not that it was any of his goddamn business, anyway, but you had only ever slept with one man, and it sure as shit hadn’t been one of your bosses.

“Aw, c’mon. I bet you get so cold after one of them vampers is inside you, don’t you. All icy and chilly like. Let me give you a little tip, sweetheart. Humans. Need. Warmth.”

“You say that as if you aren’t a fucking sad sack,” you say. “What a sorry excuse for a human, huh?”

“What’d they do to you, huh, girl? Did they glamor you into only wanting a dead man’s dick?” he asks, slowly shifting and standing from his stool so that he could approach you. Despite their constant–and half-hearted–threats, you’d never been glamored by your vampire coworkers. Your breathing shakes as he approaches in swift steps. It’s then that you see the knife in his hand. 

For the first time in a long time, you realize, genuine fear strikes through you. 

“I’m gonna teach those vampers a lesson,” he says. “And you’re going to help me do that.”

You’d had vampire blood. Pam and Chow had been gracious enough to offer you their wrists months after you’d started working at Fangtasia, a safety precaution as they’d claimed. You'd had Eric's blood. He could feel your fear, he knew where you were, why wasn't he coming?

The knife trails along your collarbone. You're glad it was as dull as it was, knowing if it'd been sharper it would be slicing the skin open in its path down. Then he presses down harder. You can’t muffle the whine as it escapes you, no matter how much you want to. No matter how desperately you wish to not show the man that he holds any power over you. You can feel the blood seeping out of the wound. It dribbles down your chest in a thick stream as it pools and stains the gray cotton of your t-shirt.

“Stop!” you plead. He chuckles before driving the blade deeper into you. With feeble force, you try to get him off with a stunted kick to his knee; It was all you could manage with the way your knees had been duct-taped together. 

“Bitch!” he heaves before rearing back to slap you with the bladeless hand. It slashes your cheek, shallowly, thankfully, but you can feel the ache of where his hand had connected with your cheekbone. “You’re gonna regret that.”

He takes the knife and stabs it into your side, just narrowly missing your ribcage. 

Before you can manage out even a wince, the door to the small shack you’d been held in for the last few hours splinters and it unceremoniously removed from its hinges. 

Eric says nothing as he rushes in. You barely register that it’s him save for the split second image you’d captured from where he’d lingered in the doorway. Your captor is off of you instantly, though you’re still bound to the chair. Eric stills. Wind warps around him as he does so, wrapping him in a flurry of movement as he stands with the man locked in his grasp. 

“You never should have fucking touched her,” Eric growls with his fangs fully extended, grip tightening around the burly man’s neck and raising him inches off the ground. There’s not even a hint of the usual smirk you were so accustomed to seeing. “Every single mark on her body will be returned unto you tenfold.”

“She fucking deserved it,” he gargles as the vampire latches onto the expanse of neck not currently held within his hand. The man screams out in anguish and you pull your eyes tight to avoid watching any more. Of course, that doesn’t stop you from hearing. The screams and the rips and the crunches. You hear something hard and solid hit the floor and somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach you know it’s bone. 

You hear the man gasp out a dead fuck only for Eric’s grasp to tighten fully, effectively severing the man’s skull from his spinal chord without detaching it from his body. The man drops to the floor with a loud thump and Eric shoves the corpse away with the toe of his shoe before he moves toward you. 

“What took you so long?” you exhaled as he moved behind you to unbind your wrists. 

“I was away on business,” he gruffs, spitting slightly to get the last of the man’s blood out of his mouth. He’d already drunk his fair share, you thought, what good what that do?

Swallowing, you ask, “And you still came?”

He walks back around to begin undoing the restraints on your legs. He’s being so gentle, you realize. If he’d wanted, he could have had this done within seconds and yet, here he was, tenderly undoing the tape and rope and rubbing a soothing hand over the abraded skin. 

“I’ll always come for you,” he says. “Until I meet the true death, I will always come for you.”

He extends his wrist up to his mouth and you wince as he punctures the flesh. 

“Eric,” you sigh. 

“Drink,” he says. 

Nodding, you allow him to bring his wrist to your mouth and latch down on the leaking wound. It’s tangy and metallic and overall pretty gross, but you’re more than grateful for it at that moment. You lick your lips when he pulls his arm back down, the small bite marks already well on their way to closing completely. 

“Will you take me home?” you ask, suddenly overwhelmed with the wave of fatigue hitting you. 

He rises back to his full height and extends a hand out towards you. The second you grab it, he’s pulling you up from your chair to hold you flush against his form. Then, in another rush of wind, you’re standing on your front porch. 

Slowly, you pull away from the vampire to take a step towards your door. Your body aches, but it’s already mostly healed as you run a hand over the small incision at your waist. 

“Thank you,” you say. “Eric.”

He’s silent, looking you over in a way that you can’t help but think is more than just an assessment of your injuries. He settles on your eyes when he says, “Anytime.”

[screamingintotheneverendingvoid]

Not So Sweet Valentine’s Day xx (Part 1)

John Carter x nurse!reader

Summary: Your Valentine’s Day is being spent at work, at least you get a cute, fun little work party out of it.

Warnings: Basically a part 1 of 2. Season 6 episode 13 based, so this is the part before shit hits the fan. Mentions of car accident, death, kids being orphaned. Reader and Lucy friendship scene.

A/N: I’ve had this wrote for a few days, it’s the second part that’s been kicking my ass!!! Anywho, this is more set up for the second part, but I wrote it and wanted to send it out into the world so here it is!!

—

“Remind me why we’re working Valentine’s Day again?” You mumbled the words through the scarf that covered the lower half of your face, turning your head slightly to look at John. He was bundled up too, but not nearly as much as you were, and you couldn’t help but be jealous that the Chicago weather seemed to be effecting him less than you.

He caught your eyes and smiled at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as the two of you strolled up to County for your shift, “Because, people never stop getting hurt or sick and someone has to work the holiday shifts.”

“And because you promised you’d take me on the Lake for a picnic in the spring to make up for it.”

“And I promised to take you on the Lake for a picnic in the spring to make up for it.” He reiterated with a kiss to the top of your beanie-covered head as you walked through the double doors of the ambulance bay.

The two of you immediately having to split apart to avoid two paramedics having to rush out, hearing the scattered ‘sorry’, ‘excuse us’ as they passed by.

You and John looked at each other as they left. You already felt the chaos that Valentine’s Day was going to bring to the ER. You narrowed your eyes playfully at John and headed for the lounge, unwinding your scarf from around your face and neck.

“I can feel this day already, so when we get home: you, me, a bottle of wine and the bathtub. Got it?”

—

The sun was starting to set, a beautiful swirl of yellow, orange, and pink started to fade together with the grey clouds to become night. You admired the beauty from the place you perched on the roof.

Well, what you could make out of it from behind the blur of your tears.

Even the cold didn’t seem to be bothering you the way it had been earlier.

You just couldn’t get the picture of the family out of your head. Trying to save the parents, the traumatized faces of the kids, them wanting to see their parents. It broke your heart into a million pieces. You thought years into this it would get better, you’d get better at it, but no. The stream of tears coming down your face evident of that.

So caught up in your own little bubble of sadness, you didn’t even hear someone come up beside you until they were just there.

You nearly jumped out of your skin, but immediately relaxed at the blonde at your side. Lucy.

You swiped at some of the tears that had fallen but knew at this point it was too little too late. Anyone could’ve seen you had been crying. You sniffled and gave her your best smile.

“Hey, Lucy. Fancy seeing you up here.”

You tried keeping your tone light, joking, but Lucy, being ever the sweetheart, just knew what to do and pulled you into a hug.

“You want to talk about it?”

You melted into her embrace, and appreciated the question instead of an ‘are you okay’. You’re glad the psych rotation did her well.

“Yeah, I mean, it was just a hard case. I’m sure you heard. Car accident, the parents died from major trauma and the kids survived with minor injuries and…” you hesitated pulling away from her embrace and looking out to the sky again, “…they were just so brave. Wanted to see their parents and the little girl, she couldn’t handle it but the little boy… it just broke my heart, Lucy. Seeing how cruel the world can be to take those parents away from those babies, I just get in my head sometimes. Wonder what it’s all for. You think after years of doing this, I’d be a little tougher…” you scoffed at yourself, crossing your arms across your chest.

Lucy stands beside you, letting you just vent until your finished,

“You’ve been doing this longer than I have been here but, I would say the fact you still feel this deeply affected by cases, even all this time later, is what makes you one of the best nurses here.”

She leans over and covers one side of her mouth like she has a secret to tell you, “And you can’t tell the others, but one of my favorites too.”

That brings out a laugh from you, and Lucy smiles in accomplishment, bumping shoulders with you.

“You’re my favorite soon-to-be doctor. You can tell the others I said that.” Now it was her turn to laugh and you wiped away the rest of your tears, looping one of your arms with hers,

“Come on, let’s go grab a snack before we have to get back to work and you can tell me how your days been.”

—

Maybe working Valentine’s Day wasn’t what you had wanted, but you couldn’t deny your love of a good ER holiday party.

After this day, it was exactly what you needed and when Chuny pulled you over to her to dance, well, who are you to say no?

You sadly hadn’t seen John most of the day, running opposite cases for the most part. So when you spotted him weaving through people, you put your hand on Chuny’s arm, “I’ll be right back.” And headed straight for him, stepping in his path before he could go any further,

“Where do you think you’re going?” you could tell he was annoyed at something, but he softened at seeing you.

“I have to go see why Lucy hasn’t gotten to this patient. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“You listen here, Dr. Carter, when you get back your first dance is mine, got it?” You playfully grabbed onto his suspenders and tried to bring him down closer to you.

“Got it, I’ll even sweeten the deal, you can have every one after too.” He humored you by leaning down, and you stole a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before letting go of him.

“Good. Go on now so you can get back here. And being Lucy back! She’s my dance partner when you end up quitting half way through for the cake.” You teased him, throwing a wink his way. He rolled his eyes, but had a small smile as he moved on.

You went back over to Chuny and everyone else in the make shift dance floor area, ready for another round of dancing.

[rose24207]

can I get one with prompts 6,8 and 18 together

Love isn’t always enough

Summary: Your love with Lando falls apart as unresolved pain drives you both away from each other.

Genre: angst, sad

Lando x reader

6. "I begged you to stay... and you still walked away." 8. "You say you love me, but love shouldn't feel like this." 18. "I told you not to touch it, and what did you do? You touched it!"

TW: break up, hurt no comfort

A/N: I’m sorry I was so inactive for a while. Needed to get rid of the author curse for a few days but I’m back!

Masterlist pt.2

The room was silent, save for the muffled sound of Lando’s erratic breathing. He stood by the door, his hand gripping the edge of the frame as if the weight of the moment was too much for him to carry. His chest rose and fell, anger and sadness battling for control over his emotions. You were seated on the edge of the bed, your hands tightly clasped together in your lap, refusing to meet his gaze.

“I begged you to stay,” Lando said, his voice cracking mid-sentence. He took a step forward, and you flinched as if the distance between you didn’t already feel like miles. “I begged you not to leave, and you still walked away.”

Your head shot up at his words, eyes blazing with the same fire that had ignited every fight between you for the past month. “I walked away because I had no choice, Lando!”

His eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. “No choice?” he repeated, his tone sharper than he intended. “You say you love me, but love shouldn’t feel like this.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, his hand trembling. “It shouldn’t feel like I’m suffocating, like I’m never enough for you!”

“That’s not fair.” Your voice wavered, the fight leaving you as quickly as it had come. “You’re twisting everything. You’re acting like this is all on me, like I’m the villain here, but you—”

“But I what?” he interrupted, his voice rising. “What have I done that’s so terrible? All I’ve ever wanted was for us to work, for us to fix whatever this is.” He gestured wildly again. “But you don’t want that, do you?”

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to speak. “I wanted us to work too, Lando. But every time I try, you shut me out. You bury yourself in your career, in your friends, in everything but me. And then you come back, expecting me to pick up the pieces.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. You had hit a nerve, and you both knew it.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t keep holding on when it feels like I’m the only one trying.”

Lando’s jaw clenched, his own eyes glassy. He hated seeing you cry, hated knowing he was the reason for your pain. But his frustration was boiling over, and he couldn’t stop the words that spilled from his lips.

“If you can’t do this anymore, then why are you still here?”

The question hung in the air like a dagger poised to strike. You recoiled as if he had physically hit you.

“Is that what you want?” you asked, your voice trembling. “For me to leave?”

Lando ran a hand through his curls, tugging at the roots in exasperation. “No! Of course not. But what am I supposed to do when you act like this? When you shut me out, when you won’t even try to see my side of things?”

“You don’t get it, Lando,” you said, your voice breaking. “You never have. And I’m starting to think you never will.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Lando stared at you, his expression a mixture of heartbreak and disbelief.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I told you not to touch it, and what did you do? You touched it.”

You frowned, confused by the sudden shift in conversation. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about us,” he said, his tone heavy with despair. “About this relationship. I told you from the beginning that I was scared, that I didn’t know if I could do this—if I could give you everything you deserved. But you... you insisted. You said we could make it work, that I just needed to trust you.”

“And I did trust you,” you said, your voice rising again. “I trusted you with my heart, Lando. But you didn’t trust me with yours.”

His face crumpled, and for the first time, you saw just how broken he was. “I wanted to,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “God, I wanted to. But every time I got close, every time I thought I could let you in, something stopped me. And now... now I’ve ruined everything.”

You stood up, your legs shaking beneath you. “You didn’t ruin everything, Lando. We both did. But I can’t keep doing this—this cycle of fighting and making up and pretending everything’s okay when it’s not.”

“So what?” he asked, desperation creeping into his voice. “You’re just going to leave? Throw everything away like it meant nothing?”

“It did mean something,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “It meant everything. But sometimes, love isn’t enough.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He staggered back, his hands gripping the doorframe for support.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Don’t go.”

You looked at him, your heart shattering into a million pieces. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice trembling. “But I have to.”

With that, you turned and walked out the door, leaving Lando alone in the silence.

For a moment, he stood frozen, staring at the spot where you had been. Then, as the reality of your departure sank in, he collapsed onto the floor, his sobs echoing through the empty room.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @darleneslane