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cherrygirlfriend · 30 days ago

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touchy subject III pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst and comfort. fluff. mentions of miscarriage/stillbirth and DUI. wc: 2.7k part 3 and the last part of touchy subject! click here for part 1, click here for part 2 i really liked writing for them and honestly i'm considering occasionally writing blurbs for them and what their relationship would shape into, lmk if you'd be interested!!

seeing you in front of that store felt like it might've killed rafe. the first face he fell in love with, the woman who'd left him with nothing but scars and an engagement ring. somehow, he still managed to stay alive.

but hearing you say his name in the soft voice he hadn't heard in over four years, the same one that you used to tell him you loved him every single night before your body went slack in his arms, that might have been the final blow.

"what are you doing here?" you managed to mutter, your hand instinctively going to your locket, squeezing it in your hand, and the gesture didn't go unnoticed by rafe.

"what's this?" rafe asked as the two of you laid in bed, his finger tracing the patterns on the heart-shaped locket resting on your chest, the one you'd worn around your neck for as long as he'd known you.

"this?" you asked, opening the locket, displaying two pictures; one of them was of you when you were a little girl, standing between your parents with a wide, toothy grin on your face, and the other was a picture of you and rafe, taken at midsummers. "i got this from my mom. it's a family heirloom of sorts. when she's born," you looked down at your stomach, "we've gotta get a picture taken of us three so i can put it here."

he let out a small chuckle, "i'm honored that you want me in your heart."

"i think you're always going to be in my heart," you rolled your eyes, "whether i want it or not."

"i'm here to see you. i thought that'd be obvious." rafe said without an ounce of emotion in his voice, the sound causing a shiver to run down your spine. grieving your daughter on what would've been her fifth birthday wasn't a moment you exactly wanted your ex to witness, but this was still rafe. the man you loved for so long, the only man you ever loved, the one you were going to marry, and this was still the house that was supposed to be your home.

so you stepped aside, pulling your cardigan closed as a way to close yourself off from the man as you walked further into the house, not daring yourself to look back at him, fearing the urge that still remained in your chest to just pull him close to you and be in his arms.

you heard the door close, pressing your eyes shut as you stood in front of the fireplace, your arms crossed in front of your chest as if defending yourself, the man's footsteps echoing in the room, "it's cold in here."

"the radiator's broken."

"can you just, at least look at me, or something?"

"do i have to?" you chuckled humorlessly, and when you felt his hand on your shoulder, it felt like the room got ten degrees colder, the man slowly turning you around to face him, and when you refused to look up at him, focusing on the baby blue sweater he was wearing, he brought his hand to your chin, gently lifting it up, just like he did every time he was about to kiss you.

"we need to talk."

if someone was to ask you what would be the most uncomfortable situation you had ever been in, this would be among the top 3, right after you got the 'birds and the bees' talk and the time you said your goodbyes to the same man now sitting beside you, the space between you two big enough to fit another person.

"why did you come back?" rafe asks, without even sparing you a glance. you decide to do the same, your gaze staying on the fire crackling in front of you.

"i don't know. a part of me thinks it's because i missed home."

"and the other part?"

missed us. missed her. "missed my mom, i guess."

your mother had driven you home from the hospital, insisting that she'd stay with you for the next few days; you still hadn't seen rafe. you couldn't face him, couldn't face the guilt you carried around for being the reason your daughter would be coming home in an urn.

she'd gone to the store for groceries, leaving you to sit on the couch you and rafe had picked out, staring at the engagement picture that hung above the fireplace.

you didn't know how it started, how every single vase ended up as nothing but shards of glass on the floor, how the coffee table had ended up as planks of wood, how your fists were bruised from beating them against the walls, your knees bloody from when you'd collapsed on the ground amongst all the glass.

"do you know what day it is?" rafe asked with a weak voice, and you could hear him try to swallow down the emotion crawling up his throat.

his question made you want to let out a small, humorless laugh. you don't know how you could ever forget. "of course." the day i killed her.

rafe stood up, running his hand over his chin before trailing over the short strands of hair on his head, "why did you do it?" he looked to you. "why did you leave?"

"i had no reason to stay." you say emotionlessly, your fingers intertwined as you kept your eyes on them as if you were praying.

"you had me. you would've had me if you just let me be there."

"rafe, i killed our daughter."

"what-"

"i'm the reason our daughter isn't here. i'm the reason she doesn't exist. i'm the reason that today isn't only her fifth birthday, but also the fifth anniversary of her death."

rafe kneeled down in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks, not caring if it made you uncomfortable, or that this was the first time he'd properly touched you in over four years, the only thing that mattered to him was that you listened.

"you did not kill our daughter."

"i did."

"no." he scoffed, "you aren't the reason she's dead. the reason is the drunken asshole who drove at you. you loved her with your entire being, with everything you had, even before she was born. you would've been the most amazing mother in the world. don't you dare blame yourself for something you had zero control over."

"i shouldn't have driven in that weather. i knew it was gonna be raining, that the roads would be slippery-"

"no." rafe said sternly, "look at me."

your eyes moved to look into rafe's steel-blue ones, shimmering with unshed tears, his jaw clenched, and only then did you realize that he was cupping your face in his hands, his touch somehow managing to make you feel warm even in the cold apartment.

"i won't have you blame yourself for something you had no fuckin' control over. evelyn was so wanted, by both of us. she would've been so loved. we would've done anything to protect her, and to keep her safe. if any fucker even thought about hurting her, i would've made sure they'd regret ever being born. but you are not to blame for her not being here."

rafe's hands moved from your cheeks to your hands, the man instead taking your clenched fists into his, letting out a small sniffle, and when he pressed his eyes closed and let out a sigh, a tear rolled down his cheek.

"yeah, you could've not driven in the rain. but i should've been the one to drive you to your mom's, you were eight months along, an insane man would make you drive yourself, or i should've made sure you got home before it was dark, or i should've picked you up myself. there are so many things we could've done differently, but that doesn't mean that either of us is to blame for it."

"i spent so long blaming myself for what happened, but not even for a moment did i blame you. you did everything to keep her safe, and i know it, and i'm sure that she knows it too. you loved her more than anything, and i won't let some drunk driving idiot make you feel like you did anything wrong."

slowly, you opened your fists, half-moon prints on the palms on your hands caused by your nails, and without even realizing, tears had been rolling down your eyes the entire time that rafe had been speaking, the man standing up and pressing a kiss on your forehead that felt like it burnt and would leave a mark that'd be there forever, before he settled down next to you.

a strand of hair was stuck on your cheek, almost glued on there by the tears you shed, the blonde man tugging it behind your ear, his eyes still on you, his hands still cupping yours.

"i don't blame you for what happened, nor do i blame you for pushing me away. but i wish you would've let me in, to be there for you, instead of leaving. so we could've grieved her together."

"i think we should break up, rafe."

"what?" rafe turned to look at you; this wasn't what he had been expecting to hear after two months of silence, "if this is about the baby-"

"i can't do it anymore." you closed your eyes, letting a tear run down your cheek, "i need to leave. start over."

you turned your head to look at him, his words feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and even though you tried to find it, there was nothing in his eyes that said that he was lying.

"you don't blame me for any of it?"

your voice was weak and feeble, as if a part of you was expecting him to tell you that he did, but when he pulled you into his embrace, he told you the truth in the best way he knew how to: without saying a single word.

you didn't know how long you had been in rafe's arms; it felt like hours, while also feeling like the moment had lasted mere seconds, like you two lived in your own bubble. it felt like the last four years hadn't happened, like you had never left.

but when he pulled away from the embrace and looked down at his watch, letting out a sigh, you knew what was coming. the bubble burst.

"i should probably get going." rafe let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose before starting to get up off the couch, stretching his long limbs.

"yeah, yeah." you said softly, clearing your throat, trying to act like nothing had happened, like you hadn't gone through every memory you shared while he was just holding you to comfort you, "your girlfriend's probably waiting for you."

rafe stopped in his tracks, turning to look down at you, "girlfriend?"

"shit," you chuckle softly, fidgeting with your hands and chewing on your lower lip, "i guess she's your fiancée, now."

he sat down on the couch next to you while you simply avoided his gaze, not wanting him to read everything you were feeling like he so often seemed to do, but your attempt was unsuccessful, the man bringing his hand to your chin and gently turning your head so you were forced to look at him, his brows slightly furrowed while he looked at you pointedly.

"what girlfriend, or fiancée?"

you didn't know if rafe was acting stupid, or if he was genuinely confused, but you could still remember the woman with him at the jewelry store, the woman who had managed to make him smile, whose back rafe placed his hand on.

"you know," you clear your throat, taking his hand off your chin and turning your head away from him, not wanting him to see the tears brimming in your eyes as you thought about him waiting at the aisle for another woman, "the woman at the jewelry store."

rafe let out a soft laugh, and when you turned your head, facing him, he was nearly keeling over in laughter, his head in his hands.

"what?"

"that-" rafe said inbetween laughs, "that wasn't my girlfriend."

"what?" you mumbled softly, your brows furrowing, "what do you mean, rafe?"

"sorry-" he continued laughing for a while only to be stopped by a soft smack you delivered to his shoulder, before the man took a deep breath, looking at you with a small smile gracing his lips, a sight that still got your heart to flutter, "that wasn't my girlfriend, or my fiancée."

"then... who was she?"

"that was," rafe let out another chuckle as if you had said something foolish, taking one of your hands in his and intertwining your fingers, "wheezie's girlfriend."

you tried processing the words that had left his lips, but no matter what, they didn't seem to make since. "why were you in a jewelry store together? wheezie's only like-"

"wheezie's nineteen." rafe shook his head, "her girlfriend, lucy, asked me to help her pick out a ring. sarah was supposed to go with her, but she had some preschool stuff to deal with relating to jack, so i got stuck with that duty…"

"isn't nineteen a bit... young?"

"it is. but you remember how young we were when we got engaged? or sarah?" a fond smile took over rafe's lips as he turned to look at the fire that was slowly burning out, letting the next words out in a hushed tone. "guess it runs in the family."

"guess so." you say, biting down on your lip, turning to look at the fire with him, your cheeks warm as you felt like an idiot for your assumption.

"i still haven't moved on." rafe said, letting out a breath, "i don't know if i can. i don't think i even want to." you turned to look back at one another at the same time, both of you seeing the same melancholy in the other one's eyes, "there's no one i would ever want to be with other than you."

you took a deep breath, his words ringing through your head as you looked at him, a damp trail running down his cheek was still visible from the tears he had shed, and you took a deep breath, making a decision that you knew would impact the rest of your life.

"me neither, rafe."

you brought your hand to his cheek and felt the tear he had shed under your touch, pulling his face to meet yours until your lips clashed, feeling the exact same that it did four years ago, making you wonder how you ever let it go.

SIX MONTHS LATER...

you laid on a blanket in the middle of a field of sunflowers, your arms crossed behind your head and your eyes pressed closed, letting the sun beam down your face, warming you up as your bare feet were being tickled by blades of grass.

your daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and you opened one of your eyes to see rafe stumble through the long flowers into the small clearing you'd found, a small chuckle leaving your lips.

"don't laugh at me." he scolded, shaking his head as he landed on the blanket next to you, letting out a soft grunt.

"why not?" you asked, sticking your tongue out at him, your boyfriend gasping in feigned offence, about to quip back at you, only to be stopped by the small, chaste peck you pressed on his lips, even the small display of affection managing to leave him speechless.

as he settled down next to you, you smiled while looking up at the sky, white clouds covering a part of the beautiful icy blue nothingness that was so much like rafe's eyes, your thoughts on her. you took rafe's hand in yours, keeping your eyes trained up while you let yourselves just exist together.

"you're always going to be in my heart, evelyn louise cameron." you said softly as you traced the patterns on your locket, rafe turning his head to look at you, a somber expression on his face as he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"yeah, she will. and neither of us will ever forget her."

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esoteric-goblin · 1 year ago

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on worldbuilding, and what people think is going on

there is one facet of fantasy worldbuilding that is, to me, the most interesting and essential but i don't see it come up in worldbuilding guides or writing prompts or anything, and that is the question of:

what do the inhabitants of your world believe about how the world works, and how are they wrong? a lot of fantasy media will set up their cosmology, gods, magic systems, planar systems, concepts of the afterlife, &c., and proceed as though the inhabitants of the world know and understand them.

from someone whose entire academic career is focused on studying human culture in various regions and time periods, with a focus on belief systems (religion, occultism, mythology, folklore): that sort of worldbuilding is unrealistic and missing out on so much fun.

people are always seeking new understanding about how the world works, and they are mostly wrong. how many models of the solar system were proposed before we reached our current one? look at the long, turbulent history of medicine and our various bizarre models for understanding the human body and how to fix it. so many religions and occult/magical traditions arise from people disagreeing with or adapting various models of the world based on new ideas, methods, technologies. many of them are wrong, but all of them are interesting and reflect a lot about the culture, beliefs, values, and fears of the people creating/practising them.

there is so much more to the story of what people believe about the world than just what is true.

to be clear: i think it's fine and important for the author to have a coherent explanation for where magic comes from or who the gods are, so they can maintain consistency in their story. but they should also be asking what people in the world (especially different people, in different regions/nations and different times) think is happening when they do magic, or say a prayer, or practise medicine, or grieve their dead. it is a rich vein for conflict between individuals and nations alike when two models of the world disagree. it is fascinating how different magic systems might develop according to different underlying beliefs.

personally, i think it is the most fun to spawn many diverse models of the world, but give none of them the 'right' answer.

(bonus points if you also have a thriving academic system in the world with its own theory, research, and discourse between factions! as an academic, it is very fun to imagine fictional academic debate over the topics i'm worldbuilding. sometimes i will be working out details for some underlying mechanic of the world and start imagining the papers being written by scholars researching it)

#worldbuilding #world building #writing #creative writing #writeblr #on writing #fantasy worldbuilding

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monimccoythings · 5 months ago

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Mending each other's hearts I (Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!Reader)

I just love heatrbreaking stories that end with happy endings, this one might actually have a part two. I have to take all of this creative rush suddenly flowing and write as much as I can before I'm back to nothing. This reader's powers are invisibility.

It really hurt. To have someone you are madly in love with so out of reach, in love with somebody else. To know that no matter what you did, he would never look at you the same way he looked at her. Jean. She was perfect, gorgeous, smart, kind, and powerful. The golden child of Xavier’s School. Truly a Marvel girl.

You couldn’t help but envy your friend, not only has caught the eyes of two men, but also was the apple of your mentor’s eye. You couldn’t say it was undeserved. As much as you adored Jean as a friend, sometimes you resented her for having it all and not seeming to notice.

It twisted your heart every time you caught one of his longing looks, or his soft smiles. You felt the burning sensation of tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat. You forcefully swallowed it down, the least you wanted was everyone pitying you over some unrequited crush.

You couldn’t afford to tell anyone, so every time there was a big alpha male fight between Scott and Logan over her affections you quietly stayed as far as you could. Knowing that staying and hearing him fight for her love would completely break you.

That didn’t mean you didn’t quietly cry in the shower or when you were alone in bed. Those were the only places where the tears could flow freely and you allowed your sobs to wreck your body.

You once thought that being his close friend, his confidant, someone he fully trusted would be enough. That you could move on past your silly infatuation until it was nothing more than a buzzing noise in your head. Time could heal everything, you would get used to the heart ache and live normally.

However, Cupid was a resentful bitch.

It only took you being in the wrong place at the wrong time, to finally break into tiny little pieces. As you were getting some papers to grade, you realized you had left your phone back in the class. If only you hadn’t noticed until much later; maybe you would have saved yourself from watching the man who you loved the most passionately kissing your friend, his real one true love.

Your body turned cold, for once, you wished your invisibility powers kicked in and made you disappear. But you couldn’t. You felt blocked, glued to the carpet, unable to move, to think, to breathe as your entire world crashed around you. That’s the worst part of deceiving oneself, when reality comes knocking it hits you harder than any punch.

Maybe if you had stayed longer, you would have seen Jean gently pushing Logan away, with a heartbroken look in her face, quietly shaking her head with silent tears running down her cheeks. Maybe you would have seen the look of utter defeat in Logan’s face, knowing the heart of his beloved was already taken. Maybe, maybe, maybe… but you didn’t.

You don’t remember how you managed to return to your room, how you found yourself able to walk all the way without collapsing. For a second, you wondered if it had been real, an hallucination caused by the stress of being a teacher in a school full of mutant teenagers. As much as you tried to convince yourself, the tear drops staining the papers were proof that what had just happened was very much real.

It felt like something inside you had died that day.

People could see it, the light in you getting duller, your voice was starting to lose the warmth it once held. You tried to fake it, to pretend that everything was fine, that you were the same as always. But it was as plain as day how much you were grieving.

Until one day you casually took a look at yourself in the mirror. What a sorry sight.

Your skin was pale, more fitting of an ill person than a healthy mutant; your eyes looked glossy, probably due to the sleepless nights you had spent crying your heart out until you could barely feel anything; your hair, usually as tidy as you could get it, fell limp over your shoulders, unkept.

You felt sorry for yourself, pathetic, weak. That's what you were.

The only one to blame for this was looking straight at you through red rimmed eyes. This love, this bleeding twisted love, needed to go out, vanish for all eternity. You had no plans of moving, you had nowhere to go, as long as you stayed at the mansion you would have to constantly be reminded of what you so wholeheartedly desired but could never have. Unless you put an end to that.

How did that saying go? “A new worry helps to take the pain away”, Logan needed to be out of your system if you wanted to keep both him and Jean in your life. And there was only one way to do it. A good old wild night in town. Would it completely erase what you felt for that rugged old man? Surely not, but it was a great first step.

You would have loved to invite Ororo and Jean with you to have a decent girls night for once, but this was something you needed to do on your own. So without telling anybody, you took Friday off and got ready to put an end to this pain once and for all.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

There was something off with you, he could feel it. For the past couple of months you had not been entirely yourself and that was upsetting him to no end.

Your friends had tried to help you open up, out of concern to no avail. Apparently, your problems were something that you had decided you would go through on your own. But Logan didn’t agree with you. It burned him watching someone he deeply cared about lose a bit of light with each passing day, and it burned him even more not being able to do anything to help. He felt useless, doomed to watch you consume yourself more and more until there was anything left.

His pain over Jean’s rejection had left him somber and broken, but watching you slowly succumb into a pit of despair had damaged him in ways no one should have. You, his closest friend, if he was able to have something like that, his little ‘Casper’ who was always so kind, so considerate, even to an asshole like him; were suffering and he couldn’t protect you from that pain.

Logan remembered how soft your hands were, how warm your touch was and how bright your smile was. And now there was only left an empty carcass, a living shadow of what you once were. He found himself mourning over something he would never have again.

Fuck, he wanted you back. He missed you. He needed you back. It was so emotional, he couldn’t give a single fuck about it.

He was going to get you back.

When Hank told him that you had suddenly taken that day off, Logan panicked, fearing the worst. Nearly on fours he ran up the stairs, praying to whatever deity he didn’t believe in that you hadn’t left.

And you hadn’t.

He wasn’t prepared for what he found in your room. You, sitting in front of the mirror of your vanity, applying the last touches of mascara to your eyes. Your hair was done in a very elegant way, combed and curled till it reached perfection; your eyeshadow, combined with the mascara, highlighted the color of your eyes making them shine. Your lips were painted in a red as dark as blood that was practically begging to be smeared across your mouth.

And the icing on the cake were that tantalizing red dress that hugged all your curves in the best way, and those impossibly high heels that made your legs endless.

He was speechless. So speechless he didn’t notice how you momentarily paled only to recover your composure once again.

“Did you… did you want something?” You asked, shyly. Panicking at the thought of your plan ending before it had even started.

Logan didn’t answer, too busy taking all of you in. His eyes quickly darted from one part to another. The air coming out of him in short breaths, his sturdy chest rising and falling. Fists clenching and unclenching.

“Where are you going?”His voice sounded raspy.

“Out.” You simply stated, it hurted but you had to remain cold for this to work.

“With who?” It didn’t go unnoticed to you the dangerous edge in his voice. Why would he even care about it?

“I’m flying solo tonight, hopefully not for long, if you know what I mean.” You tried to play it cool, like you were just teasing a friend, as the old you would, but Logan could smell bullshit coming a mile away, so obviously he didn’t buy it.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Oh you knew that face he was making, he was getting angrier by the second. You still could feel the remains of the heartbreak sinking like daggers in your badly beaten heart.

“I mean that I’m not planning on sleeping here tonight, Lo.”

He didn’t like at all the ugly, primal feeling that arose in his chest at your words. That sudden urge to destroy, to tear apart your dress and lock you in your room, away from prying eyes. It must have shown in his face, because you uneasily sank back into your chair.

You weren’t going to let him scare you away from this. His big bad man act may have worked on other people, but you knew him well enough to know that was purely a façade. Mustering all the bravery and courage left in you, you picked the remaining pieces of your heart and stood up determined to keep going whether he wanted it or not. A low warning growl emanated from his body when you walked past him. “Bye, Lo.” He didn’t like how final those two words sounded.

And for a couple of seconds he just stood there, just processing what had happened. You sounded so determined, so ready to leave and not coming back it was unsettling. It was a future he didn’t look forward to.

He caught a whiff of your scent, laced with that perfume the students gifted you on your birthday. You were going out alone, dressed out like that, and possibly coming home smelling like a stranger???

Oh, hell no.

#wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan howlett #Logan howlett x reader #james logan howlett #X men #X men x reader

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syluriar · 17 days ago

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the gift of life - sylus x reader

a/n: so this was a request from @gamergirl31201 who wanted a fluffy dad dragon! sylus. like most of my writings i may have gone overbaord with this but i enjoyed writing this a lot. plus think of it as healing after his myth (i'm still grieving).

warnings: little au of his myth where we live happily ever after. pregnancy, both sylus & reader having some fear for the future of their child but they comfort each other through it and most importantly - fluff! sylus might be ooc as i am trying to learn how to write him.

word count: 2368

“I can move on my own.”

“Yes, and?”

“So there’s no need for you to carry me everywhere.”

“On the contrary, beloved, I do.” He chuckles as you wriggle more in his hold, it’s futile and you know it, but if you gave into everything he did, well…life would be boring. “It’s not just you alone in your body anymore.” He sets you down gently on the plush and ever so soft bed he managed to steal from an abandoned home, the old one before was distasteful for you to rest on now, he told you as he flung it outside, not caring where it landed. You would have been annoyed he did it without asking, but you had it admit it was much more comfortable, and better styled.

He rearranges the pillows before allowing you to lie back, making sure they cushion your neck and lower back. You sigh softly as you relax, your body and feet sore all day despite not being able to do anything at all, as your dragon deems you too important to deal with such mundane tasks. You know he would do anything for you, but it’s different this time. No burning buildings, dead corpses filling churches, and no destruction at all. Instead he gives you the food you want without complaints, gifts you the finest clothing to make you as comfortable as possible, he’s even gone out to learn different things of pregnancy, labour and after the birth.

He’s already had your heart, but you would easily give it to him again and again.

“How are you today? Any sickness? Food cravings?” He looks down at you as he rapid fires you questions. It’s the same ones everyday and you never get annoyed by it, he’s just caring for you, an affection both of you have given each other.

You hum and place a hand on your stomach. “My feet are sore, other then that I’m good. Just can’t wait for this little one to come.”

He lifts your legs up, allowing him to sit and rest your legs in his lap. He takes off your soft footwear, his tail putting them on the floor as his hands begin to massage a foot, your shoulders instantly relaxing. You rest your hands on your stomach, feeling the large bump that has been growing for months now.

He follows your hand and his lips curl into a smile. “I shouldn’t be long now, around two more months I believe.”

Two months too long. Yes, bearing his child was a gift. You remember his wide and surprised eyes when you gave him the news. He was silent at first and you were afraid he wouldn’t want a child. But then he held you, and when you looked in his eyes you saw the softness that you only knew, and the wondrous love that filled them. His hands had gently held your waist before brushing over your then flat stomach, his voice in disbelief. “You are carrying our child?”

“Yes,” You whisper, the conversation was intimate, despite it being only the two of you in the building. “Are you pleased?”

He chuckled then and pressed your foreheads together. “My beloved. I am more than pleased. I am in joy.” He lifted your chin before placing his hands on your cheeks, caressing them. “I had not ever thought of being loved, and now…you are with our child…I had never dreamed of having one.” He chuckled again, softly this time. “Of course, all of that has changed because of you.”

Ever since then you were hardly left out of his sight, no more going on quests for revenge or even going out to the market for food. Sylus did everything you ever needed, even having the assistant of crows he managed to tame to do some biddings, like bringing back baskets of bread, or stealing jewelry to shower you in affection more. He even took off his armour, a confession of fear that he could hurt you and the baby and he didn’t want to risk, though you had cried at the confession, it gave you a good excuse to gawk at him more.

That day you looked in the mirror and saw a small bump from your belly that had you ecstatic, you couldn’t help but caress it, officially knowing there was a child growing inside you. The thought of the baby growing, which meant your belly would get bigger depressed you greatly within seconds.

When Sylus saw you he instantly worried and wasted no time asking what was wrong, and you cried to him. “I’m going to gain more weight and I won’t look beautiful anymore, won’t I?”

The look on Sylus’ face makes you laugh now, the furrow in his brows and the grimace on his lips. “What nonsense is that, beloved? You are my treasure are you not? You are always beautiful.” He held you in his arms, hands on your stomach once more, he had been doing that everyday, and it brought a nice sense of comfort. “And weight gain? That just means I have more of you to hold, and isn’t that a good thing?”

And not to mention the food cravings, you felt disgusted with what you wanted, but Sylus always gave it to you. “If that is what you want then you’ll have it.” It was one of his favourite things to say to you, as he could always back it up.

Yes, you’ve had quite some hardships with the pregnancy, but Sylus has been perfect, and you were forever grateful it was his child you are carrying, and not some lowlife from your village.

“I know but still,” You huff and bury yourself in the pillows more. “I can’t wait for her to be in our arms.”

“Her?” Sylus questions as his eyes flick back up to you, hands pressing hard points near your toes. “You are so sure our child is a girl?”

You nod. “Perfectly. Call it a mothers intuition.” You proudly say, the word mother coming from your mouth fills you with excitement. Being raised in the Sanctuary you were told that all women bear children soon after they marry, and many have more than one. You didn’t really enjoy hearing those things, is that all what women were seen for? Marriage and children? It left a bitter taste in your mouth that you forced yourself to swallow.

You didn’t think much of those subjects when you were thrown into the Abyss, your thoughts solely on the dragon you found there and having him help you take revenge. But everything had changed ever since you met him, even on marriage and children. If it was with Sylus, it was a yes to both.

You jump at the sudden press on your forehead. Blinking up, you see it was Sylus’ finger, his brows furrowed. “What troubles you?”

Nothing gets past him. “I’m afraid of what the future holds for her. As a woman she will be told she will only be good to marry and bear children, and not to carry weapons or even fight. It worries me.”

There’s a small silence in the room after your words. Sylus retracts his finger and moves on to massage your other foot. “Trapped over a thousand years, yet some things stay the same.” He says with a scorn. “I had some hope that humans had changed a few things, but it looks like I am the fool for thinking such things.”

You chuckle with disdain, anger threatening to rise inside you at your past and the future of your child.

But then Sylus holds your hands with such care and gazes into your eyes. “If our child is a girl, we shall teach her to stand strong like us, to speak her mind and always prepare. No humans shall tell her what she must do, she will decide that for herself.”

You smile at him, already picturing the image of a small girl copying your moves as you wave a sword around. “Perhaps when she is old and trained enough, we’ll forge her a sword.”

“Made only by the best metal in existence.” Sylus agrees, and you know he holds promise to those words, and that’s more than enough to put you at ease. As he resumes massaging your foot, a question comes to mind.

“Do you have any thoughts on a name yet?”

In the beginning you were adamant not wanting any names that mixed in with the Santacury, nothing that mentioned a god, sin and sorcerer. You wanted a name that was powerful, that your daughter would be proud of having, especially if trouble comes her way.

“Seeing as how my beloved is convinced our child is a girl, she will need a name worthy of her power, strength and beauty.” Sylus voices your own thoughts, his voice full of warmth and love.

“It will be hard, but I’m sure we can find one.” You assure him, knowing you two won’t settle for anything less.

A few minutes later when he’s done massaging your feet, he lays beside you, a hand threading through your hair while the other rubs your bump.

He hums and whispers in your ear. “A name has come to mind…”

FIVE YEARS LATER

“Did you see that Father?” A young bubbly voice asked through the fields of flowers. The air was warm, a perfect day to eat outside and enjoy the scenery. One would think of the beautiful red flowers, the sun shining brightly in the sky and the birds singing as they flew over.

But the scene before you was better than any of that, as you watched your child excitedly jump before their father.

“I was flying for more than ten seconds!”

“I saw, little one.” Sylus chuckled warmly. “You’re getting better every day, certainly better than me when I was your age.” He boops her nose and receives a giggle in return. “Now, shall we rest for a bit?

She shakes her head. “No, I want another go!”

“I believe you said that 5 turns ago.”

“Just one more, please Father?” She pleads to him with her large eyes, and you chuckle as you know Sylus can never resist them, she has had him wrapped around her finger the moment she was born.

It was a long and painful day, the contraptions started late in the afternoon, the pain was hard and you thought it couldn’t get any worse. But the minutes went by and it kept coming back, the time between them getting shorter and more painful. Sylus had laid you on the bed, a large bowl of water nearby to clean the sweat off your face and another bowl of ice for you to eat during the labor, hearing that it helped reduce risks, what risks you didn’t hear, but you had as much as you could before you started to push.

It was hours, the sun had settled by the time you had given birth. You were exhausted, but the sound of your child crying pushed it all away, and within seconds you held the bundle of joy in your arms, clean and wrapped warmly in a blanket.

“Finally, your out.” You jested. Your child had ceased crying and started up at you with small eyes. Now that she was in your arms, it finally dawned on you that had a child, a living and breathing life that you and Sylus had created, and she was perfect.

You turned to see Sylus, staring at you in admiration. His eyes wide and lips smiling.

“She’s finally here.”

He signs, one that is full of relief and sheer love and devotion. He holds your cheek as he kisses your head. “You are astonishing, my beloved. Simply astounding.” He then sits beside you, an arm resting against yours that holds your daughter, the other stroking through your hair. “I believed that you were strong before when you were having your revenge, but this…you truly are strong. Magnificent.”

His words make you tear up, your used to his sweet and cherishing words, but these are different. They aren’t words after a bloodshed, they’re words after giving life.

Looking back at your daughter, you catch her features and giggle. “Looks like she’s having your hair,”

He laughs, a sound intoxicating that you want to bottle it up and listen to it whenever you desire. “And she has your eyes, just one beautiful thing she will inherit from you.”

“From us.” You correct him. “She is your child as well, and she will inherit great things from you.”

Sylus only smiled at you back then before hugging you tightly, there was a nagging feeling that he was hiding something, but the labour and birth of your daughter had taken over your mind and body. It was only when her horns started growing did you notice the solemn expression on his face.

“Just like you worry for her future as a woman, I worry for her when she inherits my features.” His fingers gently caressing her horns as he held her in her arms, it broke your heart to see such an expression on his face, especially when it concerned your daughter.

“She will love them, that I am sure, and we will keep her safe.” You promised him. “Remember your words. We will teach her to stand strong.”

He sighed in your arms as your cradled his head, his head leaning on your chest and listening to your heartbeat, one of the few sounds that helped him relax. “Is killing those who dare oppose her off the table?”

You grinned. “Never.”

Now at the age of five she stands, horns peeking from her long white hair, her eyes coloured like yours, beaming. Her tail, while small, was fierce when she used it to practice her attacks. Her giggles fill your ears as Sylus lifts her up in his arms, her hands touching his horns and she looks at him with such admiration. “I can’t wait to be like you, Father!”

“You won’t be like me, little one,” He says softly, and kisses her forehead before pressing them together. “You will be better, our Sigrid.”

#mine #my writing #request #sylus #sylus x reader

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unhelpfultarot · 2 months ago

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Hi, hello. I’m a long-time follower, first-time asker. I remember you saying you don’t really believe that divination works? I don’t know if that is still the case but, anyway, I respect it and just want to say that you, your efforts and time dedicated to this page are all valued here. The fact is you reach and help lots of people, not even just in (I’m assuming) your country. And it’s absolutely understandable if you need to take a break. But it’s also ok to change the “vibe” of the posts for however long. Yes, it is a funny page, and everyone appreciates that — but we’re all grieving and you can grieve here too. I hope this makes sense, I just woke up. Take care <3

My thinking is that there's nothing magical or supernatural about Tarot cards; they're just pictures on little pieces of paper. What they are is strong archetypal symbols, universal enough to apply to everybody, broad and general enough to have many possible meanings. Putting them together in combinations can spark ideas about all sorts of familiar situations. And human beings are very good at pattern recognition and storytelling, so when you put all that together, you can make connections that you otherwise might not think of. Or maybe acknowledge something that's been on your mind but you've been trying not to think about.

Or you can write silly descriptions of the normal ups and down of life, and then lots of people say "Whoa, that happened to you? That happened to me, too!" And then we all feel a little less alone.

I'm sure I will be back to posting, probably fairly soon. I'm unusually busy with some offline stuff lately (mostly positive, but time-consuming) but I miss being able to sit down quietly and shuffle my cards every day. And I miss feeling like I'm connected to my vast and faceless crowd of readers. I'm very fond of all of you out there, and hope you're doing well.

❤️

#tarot #not tarot #personal #it's so weird when I let myself remember that this absurd blog is the most successful thing I've ever done

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motthe · 1 month ago

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Hey! May i request a mean, cold caitlyn x undercity fem!reader, angst, set in the current season where caitlyn obviously goes crazy and basically the reader confronts caitlyn abt only being used as a mean for caitlyn to blow off steam and a distraction for caitlyn to forget abt vi, and maybe the reader also confesses her feelings despite finding it wrong due to caitlyn's actions against zaun, and caitlyn is basically like, too bad so sad i'm not changing for you lmfao

i hope this is angst enough!!! first time writing caitlyn so she might be a bit ooc. apologies!!!

warnings: implied sexual content, emotional abuse, toxic behaviors, and slight spoilers for season 2 arc 2!!!

You were used to being second best.

Vi always won in the old arcade, in a fight. But you both lost the night of the explosion.

Sometimes you wished you hadn’t survived, waking up alone and forgotten with a shattered arm and a broken family. Ekko found you lumbering around the lanes and through the years you both watched Powder’s descent into Jinx.

When Vi showed up asking questions with Pilty, you disregard Ekko’s orders to shadow. You had nothing else to lose.

Caitlyn made the most sense. Her plan gave you hope.

Shit hit the fan as it always did, though. You didn't miss the looks she gave Vi and you knew from the start there was never going to be something between you two.

She kept giving though. You accept being an enforcer—you’re tired of the Lanes, of fighting for good people who just end up dying. Here you could make a real difference for Zaun. Caitlyn listened and even with her hatred of Jinx, she didn’t wish bad upon the Undercity. You knew that.

She was grieving. It made her colder, more distant. Vi fought that.

And suddenly, she’s gone. That seat she took between you and Caitlyn was empty, and Caitlyn filled it. She listened to you more than ever. You told her how you understand what she’s going through because you do. You lost your family a long time ago.

Even with that voice screaming in the back of your head to get a grip, you let her pull you into her place after a late night planning. You let her pull you into her bed.

You were fucked the moment she landed a punch when you met her. You didn’t blame her—you had light feet.

But she stopped listening. That cruelty you understood, masked under grief, it started settling in. She didn’t want to talk before she grabbed your hand, didn’t ask before shoving you into her mattress.

And still, you went willingly.

“You can talk to me,” you whispered.

Caitlyn paused as she was throwing her shirt on. When you went back to your place, she never stayed.

“What?” she breathed.

“You’ve gotten…distant. We don’t talk like we used to, we just…” You ran a hand over your rumpled sheets. “You can talk to me, y’know?”

She shrugged, resuming dressing. “I have nothing to say.”

“Cait—”

“Why can’t you just accept this?” she sighed, shoulders tensing as she forced her feet into her boots. “Things are fine. We have a good time, we get work done.”

“Is that all you want?” Something shook in your chest. “Just a good time?”

She looked at you then, eyebrow raised. “Yes. What did you think?”

You were silent. It said more than you could.

“Did you think this was serious?” she asked, tone cold. “We talked about how much we both hated Vi—you said I should let off some steam.”

“I also said a lot of other things,” you reminded her.

“What? How you thought I was the most beautiful thing when you first saw me?” she scoffed, pushing off the bed.

Your chest caved in.

“I thought you knew what this was,” she muttered. “I don’t need a repeat.”

“I just wanted to help,” you whispered, words shaking. “I-I really like you, Cait.”

“And I loved Vi!” she yelled, whirling around. “I thought you wanted this! I thought this was about doing what we needed to get it out of our systems so we could focus on actual important things!”

“So I’m not important?” you sniffed, unable to hold back the tears. “None of this meant anything to you?”

“No,” she huffed, shaking her head, “you were a distraction. You were always just a distraction. Now I feel like a fool, messing around when I should’ve been focusing on work. Would’ve saved me this mess.”

“Caitlyn,” you sobbed.

“Take a few days,” she muttered, grabbing the rest of her things as she opened the door. “If you still want to be an enforcer, you need to get your shit together before you come back to work.”

The door slammed. Something fell off the wall and shattered but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

When you returned to work, Officer Nolan was sitting in your seat, speaking with Caitlyn about plans. A few days later, you watch them leave the building together, Nolan grabbing Caitlyn’s hand and laughing as she pulled her around the corner.

You were used to being second best.

But now you weren’t even second.

You were never a part of the game to begin with.

#arcane #arcane spoilers #arcane x reader #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn kiramman x reader #arcane content #masterlist

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gothicrazor · 3 months ago

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Anything for you [P1]

Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader || Rating: PG(?) || WC: 1.4k

Inspiration: Foreigner's God - Hoizer

Content Warning: afab reader, unrequited love (both reader + Kurt), Kurt pining

Authors Note: First time writing for X-Men! Please be kind to me I'm trying pookies, hopefully this turns out okay or I might actually weep! I dunno if anyone would want a part two of this, just lemme know ig??? Also let it be known I used deepL for the few things he said in German... Please don't hate me 😔

Who knew the kiss on the back of a gloved hand could really tank someone's mood as quickly as anything else at a typical Saturday night dinner. Watching the gleam drain from your eyes across the table was something he's sadly used to now. Following your eyes to the end of the table to what he knew you were staring at.

His dear sister and one of his closest friends. Rogue and Gambit. The strongest "couple" next to their leader and his wife. A force strong and immovable. Rogue, too scared to stray. And Gambit, too loyal to look anywhere but her eyes half the time.

And it kills you. Anyone who knows you can see your heart break every time they connect.

Thankfully, no one seems to be paying attention to you, no one but the blue mutant across the table from you. He finds it hard to keep his eyes anywhere but on you. Always has since you met all those years ago. He's seen you at your best, the fierceness burning behind your eyes during the heat of battle. And at your worse... Grieving the loss of something you could never have in the first place.

Your chair screeches, moving across the hardwood of the dining room harder than you intended. Standing up too fast, everyone stared in surprise.

"I'm gonna turn in early." Scott's brow rose behind ruby quartz shades as he stood up.

"Everything okay?" You smile, trying to keep up the facade, not wanting to openly weep in front of the team you call family.

"Just a little tired from training." You grab the edge of your half-eaten plate of dinner before you're met with the rough hand of Logan next to you on your wrist.

"Leave it kid, go get some shut eye." His face almost looks slightly worried, as you don't even put up an argument as usual. Just nodding, you push your chair in and hurry out of the dining room.

Kurt watches you leave, tilting his head to watch you rush up the foyer stairs as chatter picks back up at the table.

"Do you think she's sick?" His ears perk up to the concerned whisper of Jean's voice, looking at Scott as he sat back down at the head of the table.

"It's not unlike her to keep quiet when she's not feeling the best."

"She's barely been eating more than half her food in the past week Scott, I'm starting to get worried. She hasn't been like this since the Professor died." Kurt's head turns, chiming in with his usual soft tone.

"I'll check on her after dinner." Jean and Scott both looked at him. Jean smiling softly as she squeezed his shoulder.

"Thank you, Kurt. She'd probably talk to you before any of us." He nods, his dark hair bouncing lightly before turning his attention back to dinner.

Walking down the hall, he stops at your door, glancing at your nameplate before raising his fist to knock. Freezing for a moment, knowing you'd expect him to come upstairs anytime after you left. Why should he bother to knock at this point?

But Kurt is quite literally a creature of habit. So he does.

Two soft wraps hit the door before grabbing the knob, edging the flat wood open to peek inside. Your room is still dimly lite, only the moon from your window cast over the person-sized lump under the covers of your bed. A soft mutter of your name leaves his lips, yellow eyes glowing as he looks down at the bed.

"Can I come in?" A whimpered 'yes' is all he gets in return, stepping inside with the subtle click of the door closing behind him. The familiar creak of the bed fills the room as he sits on the edge, tail curling over your legs covered by blankets. Hand meeting your side under the covers, eyes falling to their usual worried state, like every time he's comforted you this way before.

Rubbing gently over your lower back, he doesn't say a word, just feeling the slight tremble of your body hidden away from his line of sight. You sniff, pulling the blanket from over your head to look at him, eyes bloodshot and miserable looking. Something he's seen too many times before but still breaks his heart seeing you like this.

"Can you lie with me, please?"

"Anything for you, mein Schatz." He gets up, walking around the bed, pulling the covers back as he climbs in next to you. Fixing them back in place, you assume your natural spot of your head on his chest and his arm around your shoulder. The gentle rub of his hand down your bicep in a soothing gesture.

"Are you okay?" His voice barely raised above a whisper, his cheek settling onto the top of your head. You take in a sharp bit shaky breath trying to calm yourself.

"It's getting harder and harder to be around them... I don't..." You choke up for a second, breathing out a soft whimper.

"I don't know... How much longer can I stand to see them together... It's so unfair of me to feel this way because he'll never love me... Not like Anna, but I just can't... Stop it. I just - I feel terrible for so many reasons." Kurt hugs you tighter, knowing that feeling all too well. Unrequited affections for someone who'll never see you as anything more than a good friend. It almost hurts him knowing you're feeling how he feels constantly.

"I know, I wish I could take the pain away from you." You shudder, sniffling against his chest. Tears welling up in your eyes as you hold onto him like a lifeline, trying to ground yourself in desperation. Squeezing your eyes shut, the tears slipped, soaking the front of his suit.

"I feel so stupid." You whine, starting to hiccup against him, tears sliding past your lashes in groves. Kurt shushes you, moving his hand to your back to cradle you closer. Sharp claws raking over the back of your uniform, gentle touch as he always has with you. His hand moves up, thumb rubbing over your cheek and turning up your chin to look at him.

"You are not stupid, meine Liebe. It's okay to feel this way. The heart wants what it wants. Unforgiving or not, you can't help that."

"Why does it have to be him of all people?" His lips turned to a frown, seeing the hurt behind your eyes. Still wiping your eyes with his thumb, he just shakes his head.

"I wish I could give you the answers. Remy is... A kind man who deeply cares for those he loves. I can see the appeal. But you'll be okay. Eventually, I'm sure of it. You're very strong after all." You just blink, breath quivering as you start to calm down a bit.

"I'm strong..." You mutter under your breath, making him smile slightly before your head goes back to him. Finding his shoulder to lean on, you take in a deep breath, shutting your eyes as you exhale and repeating the words like a prayer.

"Ja, the strongest I know."

"Thank you, Kurt, I don't know what I'd do without you." You give a weak smile as you relax against him, feeling his head leaning against yours.

"And you'll never have to find out, that's a promise." You smile a little wider, a chuckle escaping your lips.

"Can you keep holding me for a little while longer?" He smiles against the top of your head, soaking in the shared warmth between the two of you.

"Of course." You sink into his body, putting your full weight against him. His grip tightened around you. Taking in a deep breath, his eyes wandered from your relaxed expression to the window. Watching the night sky as you slowly drift off in his arms.

Feeling you go slack in his grip, Kurt looks at how relaxed you are now. Thumb moving back over your delicate features like a feather. Something he's done too many times now. But you're so beautiful to him. He can't help but want to touch you. Lips pressing the crown on your head, lingering longer than necessary.

"Ich liebe dich..." His eyes shifted back down to your face, waiting for a reaction he never got. Good or bad. It's just another confession that's gone unheard dozens of times now. No matter how much he's said it.

Smiling at your sleeping expression, he moves down the bed. Shifting onto his side to hold you against his chest. His tail wraps around your waist as he keeps you close.

Cherishing the little moments, he gets to pretend he has your heart... No matter how much it hurts his heart.

♡Thanks for reading♡

#kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner x fem!reader #nightcrawler x reader #nightcrawler x fem!reader #x men x reader #🔷 kurt wagner #🔷 nightcrawler

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girlfromthecrypt · 2 months ago

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I haven't posted to this account very much (or at all, really), so I figured I'd update you guys on the state of Such Happy Campers and Press Play. I don’t want to talk about the incident that led to me putting SHC on ice because it still rather upsets me, but honestly, I think it was a good decision. I was grieving the “loss” of SHC for a while, but I can't help but believe I made the right call. Continuing on under the circumstances would have drained me and likely taken me right down the road to writer's block.

Furthermore, and in hindsight, I find writing Press Play a lot more fulfilling right now. All my life, I've only ever written horror, so Press Play has been a wonderful breath of fresh air. It feels cathartic writing about struggles I myself have experienced, and it’s so easy to write about music. I love music so much, and I didn't realize how fun it could be to combine this with my passion for writing. You might have been able to tell from the sheer difference in word count between Press Play and SHC, but it's been so much easier working on this somehow. Also, I do believe SHC wasn't all it could have been. I only want to put out my best work, and I don't think SHC was quite on par with Press Play.

But what about SHC, you may wonder. Or you may not, but I'll address it anyhow. I have recently had an idea for what I might turn the original SHC into. It's only a vague outline right now and I won't turn it into anything more until I'm done with Press Play (I have learned that I can't really write several IFs at once, I'm not C.C. Hill), but I figured I'd let you know that the SHC characters aren't gone forever. My idea would involve the entire SHC cast, though some names/appearances/personalities may undergo changes. Also, I might exclude Anita because she was, admittedly, my least favorite to write and might not fit in with the new setting. Other than that, the IF would explore an interesting alternative to the SHC narrative— for example, the character equivalent to Basil Laurier would actually be a practicing lawyer in this one. Another prominent change would be the inclusion of Sawyer Wright-Garcia as a full RO. They’re the only one I actually have a clear mental image for as to where their story would go, and it is… nuts.

Without spoiling too much, the plot and setting would be very different. It'd be horror, except it'd start out very unassuming, light-hearted and sitcom-y, only to then spiral. I feel like I'd enjoy causing that kind of whiplash. Anyhow, that's that. I hope that if you liked and perhaps miss SHC, this post helped at least a little bit.

#if: such happy campers #press play if

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dinogoofymutated · 9 months ago

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Blue over you - 97' Wolverine/Gn! Reader

Wolverine's not even my guy, and I finished this in a day! Haven't finished anything in a while, so this was an accomplishment! This was mainly inspired by the song Blue over you by mason ramsey, and Too sweet by hozier!

Let me know if Logan is to OOC. I'm trying my best to learn how to write for him!

Tw! Alcohol consumption, Light angst. Open-ending.

You can’t sleep.

Maybe it was because of the excitement of the day, the stress from grieving the professor, or what you ate for dinner. Either way, it was nearly 1 am at this point, and your pursuit of rest was fruitless. You let out a frustrated sigh, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. You wonder if you could convince Jean to help you out, but you’re sure she’s asleep right now, and you don't want to wake her up. Especially not after she announced her… condition, at dinner.

It’s not that you weren’t excited. In fact, you were over the moon for your friends. Jean and Scott are important to you, more like siblings to you than they ever were just friends or classmates. Even so, after the cheers and congratulations and the celebration… The news left you with a melancholy you couldn’t quite shake. A baby. Jean and Scott, two people you basically grew up with, are having a baby- and here you are. Alone. You don’t have a partner, or a husband, or any romantic prospects, really. You’ve spent so long learning about yourself and how to protect others, you just never let yourself open up to someone like that. Sure, you’d met many people during your time as an X-man, but you had always been a hopeless romantic, and there had only ever been one man you had things for. But even so, you just… couldn’t help but feel like you were falling behind.

After a long stretch, and another sigh, you get out of bed. Maybe a drink and some air would help. The path to the little china cabinet in your room is familiar and automatic. It was a gift from the professor when you mentioned that you missed collecting things like funny-shaped teapots and such, a habit you picked up from your grandmother. You wonder if he knew that you used the wooden bottom cabinets to store alcohol. You laugh a little when you think about if he kept the information to himself, letting you have at least one little secret. He most definitely knew, you decided. You grab a random bottle of amber liquid, unable to see the label in the dark. You shrug it off, figuring that you’ll find out what it is at some point.

The halls of the mansion are dark and quiet as you make your way over to the balcony, stepping outside and eagerly breathing in the cool air. Your eyes are starting to droop already as you turn to shut the door, but you've come this far and you figure you might as well get a drink in.

You're rubbing your eyes again as you turn back around, only to jump at the sight of a figure sitting on the railing.

“Fuckin’ Christ!” You wheeze. “Logan, you scared the shit out of me!” The mutant hums, the corner of his lips tilting just slightly before falling again. You walk over next to him, setting the bottle down at your feet as you lean against the railing.

“Can't sleep?” You ask. Logan shakes his head, and you frown at him. As gruff as the guy is, he’s normally more talkative. At least, with you he is. You can tell that something wrong, and it doesn't exactly take a telepath to understand what it is.

“...You were the one who found out, weren’t you?” You ask, almost state. Logan Huffs at your question, hopping off of the railing to pace on the balcony. He presses his palms into his eyesockets, growling just slightly in frustration.

“Her smell was off. S’been off. Didn’t think anything of it until I heard the heartbeat.” He rumbles, setting his arms down. “Don’t know if I want to strangle Scott or throw him off of the roof of the mansion.” Logan’s hands flex in a way you know he’s just dying to unsheath his claws. You’re not entirely sure what to say at first as he sighs, and sits up against the far wall. He rests his head in his hands, and it hurts to see him like this. You open your mouth, before closing it again. You glance down at your feet, picking up the bottle you had grabbed earlier.

Logan doesn't seem to mind as you sit next to him, brushing against his shoulder. You screw off the top of the liquor, taking a swig straight out of it before offering him the bottle. It burns deliciously on the way down, and you smile cheekily as he raises an eyebrow at you. Nevertheless, the takes the bottle from you, hand brushing your own.

“You’re not gonna like it, by the way.” You laugh. Logan rolls his eyes, less than a ghost of a smile on his face.

“ ‘still liquor, ain’t it?” He hums, taking a swig. His face screws up as he swallows, holding the bottle out afterward to try and read the label.

“What is this?” He asks, disgusted. You can’t help but laugh at him as he gives you a tired look.

“Butterscotch Schnapps.” You answer him. “I told you that you weren't gonna like it, it’s too sweet for you.” Logan shakes his head, almost trying to get rid of the taste as he hands the bottle back and playfully shoves your shoulder.

“Not my fault you drink shitty liquor.” He grins. You feel a flutter in your chest as you smile back at him, taking another swig to mask whatever he could possibly pick up from you- The problems of pining for a man with super senses, you think, laughing slightly at your own thought.

“Guess it’s all for me then-” you start to joke, right before Logan snatches the bottle back.

“Gimme the damn bottle.” You’re giggling a little at this point as the alcohol starts to settle in just slightly. Logan rolls his eyes, still smiling as he takes another swig despite the fact he very clearly hates it.

The two of you go back and forth like this for a while. Take turns until the bottle is run dry. Your giggles have settled down, and the infamous wolverine has relaxed as you lean against him. The two of you sit in silence for a minute or two, both simply breathing in the cool night air.

“It’s okay, you know.” You mumble at some point. Logan, able to hold his liquor a lot better than you, cocks an eyebrow. He’s not sure if you even know you're talking at this point. You look like you’re bout to fall asleep, nuzzling against his shoulder with a pout on your face. He hums questioningly in response.

“It’s okay to hurt knowing that Jean’s pregnant.” Logan had almost forgotten about that, having been caught up in this moment. His face falls immediately, and he looks away from you, staring into the trees that surround the mansion. You feel your chest squeeze painfully, but either due to the drink or due to your lack of self-awareness, you continue talking. He needs to hear it, you drunkenly decide.

“It’s hard to watch someone you love be with someone else. It’s even harder to watch them move on without you. I know it hurts to watch her move on to the next stage of life without you. But at this point, the best thing you can do for her is support her because you love her, not covet what you wish you could have.” You know you sound like you’re drunkenly rambling, and maybe you are, but really, all of this is something you wish you could have said years ago. You’re sure you sound like Nightcrawler, talking about coveting and love and righteousness, but you’re not as much of a good person as Kurt is. You know that you’re no better than Logan, Pining after him for so long as he continues to pine for someone else. To be perfectly honest, You’re jealous of Jean. You’re jealous of her relationship, her happiness. You’re jealous of the fact that if she would turn around and throw everything away to be with Logan, he would take her in without a second thought. But she’s your friend. Your sister. You love her, and you cherish her happiness much more than you could ever resent her for it. You let out a pitiful chuckle, eyeing the last minuscule drop in the liquor bottle.

“Believe me, I would know.” You mumble. Logan’s brow furrows, taken aback by that. You’ve always been such a standalone, unbothered, always positive. It didn’t make sense to him.

“What do you mean by that?” He asks, but when he turns his head to look at you, you’ve fallen asleep against his shoulder.

The next morning, you wake up in your bed with one hell of a hangover. You groan at the light that drifts through your blinds, rolling over. When you finally open your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers. You’re confused at first, and then flooded with bashfulness and embarrassment when you realise who exactly had put them there. You roll onto your stomach, shoving your face into your pillow, unable to handle the embarrassment of knowing you said WAY too much last night. You can't help but smile a little though, knowing he must've cared enough to carry you back here and get you meds.

Maybe it wasn't all bad.

#x men 97 #x men comics #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #x men 97 x reader

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soulofapatrick · 11 months ago

Text

Nothing Changes - Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: You wake the next morning to an empty bed and panic

Words: 1.3K

Warnings: None; fluffy

Notes: I'm really sorry for writing so much Hotch, I'm rewatching criminal minds and all these story ideas for him have been on my mind

Waking up to an empty bed, I feel my heart sink as the realization hits me: Hotch isn’t lying beside me anymore. Panic flutters in my chest as my mind races through a flurry of thoughts. Of course, he left. He couldn’t stay, not without risking our jobs, our reputations, and maybe even our friendship. What if one of the team found out? What would they think of me? They’d probably assume I’m taking advantage of Hotch, especially considering it’s only been two years since Haley’s passing. The man seems to still be grieving, and here I am, complicating things even more.

The distant sound of the shower running breaks through my panic, and relief floods through me, mingling with a tinge of nervousness. Maybe he hadn’t left entirely. Maybe there’s still a chance, a hope that last night wasn’t just a fleeting moment of weakness, but something more. Last night was the first time we gave in to the building sexual tension between us.

His clothes are still strewn across my room, a tangible reminder of the intimacy we shared. I can’t help but replay the events of last night in my mind—the way his touch ignited a fire within me, the way his eyes held mine with an intensity I couldn’t ignore. The way he was so gentle yet so dominant, knowing how to work my body right.

As I slowly come to wakefulness, the sound of the shower grows louder, filling the empty space with its steady rhythm. Part of me longs to join him, to lose myself in the warmth of his embrace once more. But another part of me hesitates, afraid of what this newfound connection might mean for us both.

Before I can decide both of our phones are ringing, the shrill sound makes my head hurt and I’m groaning, burying my face in the pillow Hotch had previously slept on. The phones ring till they stop and I count to four before both start ringing again, ruining the peace this almost domestic moment.

I’m smacking the bed in faint protest before wriggling over to the nearest phone and answering, “Yeah?”

No one speaks for a second before I recognise JJ clearing her throat, “We need you in, we’ve got a case.” There’s amusement in her tone that has me frowning before my heart drops for the second time this morning.

“JJ…” I pause, swallowing thickly, “This is Hotch’s phone, isn’t it?” I groan, turning my head to look at the bedside table to see my phone sitting there, “Oh god!”

“I won’t say a word,” She pauses and I hear her stifle a small laugh, I won’t tell if you tell me all about it on girls night.”

“Deal.” I reluctantly agree before hanging up and throwing Hotch’s phone somewhere on the bed.

I climb out of bed, feeling the cool air against my skin as I pad to the bathroom, wearing nothing but Hotch’s button up I throw on haphazardly, not bothering to do it up.

Hotch stands under the shower, his silhouette obscured by the mist, like a figure emerging from a dream. The gentle stream of water traces the contours of his body, sculpting shadows and highlights that accentuate every line and sinew. Droplets cling to his skin, glistening like diamonds in the soft light filtering through the steam.

His shoulders, broad and powerful, bear the weight of countless burdens, yet in this moment, they seem almost weightless, as if the water washes away the weight of the world. The water cascades over his chest, tracing the ripple of muscle, each movement a testament to strength and resilience.

His jawline is sharp, chiseled, a portrait of determination and resolve. The water courses over it, tracing the curve of his lips, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners. There’s a vulnerability in that smile, a glimpse of the man behind the stoic facade, and it steals my breath away.

His eyes, closed in peaceful repose, are hidden from view, yet I can imagine them so clearly—deep pools of darkness, windows to a soul that has weathered storms and emerged unbroken. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and in that moment, I feel as though I can see straight into his.

Every inch of him is a study in contrasts—the strength and vulnerability, the resilience and tenderness—all wrapped up in one beautiful, complex package. And as I watch him, bathed in the gentle embrace of the water, I feel something stir within me, something deep and unspoken.

It’s as if with each droplet that falls, my heart beats a little faster, my breath catches a little tighter. In that moment, I realize just how deeply I’ve fallen for him, how every part of me longs to reach out and touch him, to pull him close and never let go.

I give in to that want, stepping towards the shower, the warm water enveloping me like a comforting embrace. With a quick motion, I shrug off his shirt, feeling the fabric slip from my skin, and I step under the water next to him. Droplets cascade over us, mingling with the steam, as I close the distance between us.

My fingers tremble as I reach out, brushing lightly up his toned bicep, tracing the contours of muscle beneath his skin. A small sound escapes him, a mixture of surprise and pleasure, as he looks down to meet my gaze. His cognac eyes soften as they meet mine, warmth and affection swirling within their depths.

His hands find my hips, fingers tracing patterns against my skin, as if mapping out the curves and contours of my body. There’s a tenderness in his touch, a gentleness that belies the strength of the man before me. With each caress, he stirs something deep within me, igniting a fire that burns brighter with each passing moment.

I feel a surge of longing, an ache that resonates deep within my soul, as his touch sends shivers coursing through me. It’s as if every nerve in my body is alight with electricity, every sense heightened by the intensity of his presence.

And then, without hesitation, he pulls me flush against him, his lips finding mine in a searing kiss. It’s a collision of desire and longing, a meeting of souls bound together by the undeniable pull of attraction. His lips are soft against mine, a gentle exploration that sets my heart ablaze.

“Can we just stay here?” I mumble, pulling away from the kiss to rest my head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my cheek. I don’t care if we’re late, if I have to dry my hair before we leave, if we miss the plane. I don’t care for anything except the safety of Hotch’s strong arms wrapped around me.

“I don’t suppose the only reason you came in was to shower with me, was it?” He hooks a finger under my chin and makes me look up at him, an eyebrow raise and an amused look on his face.

“No,” I can’t help but pout, drawing a chuckle from him and he ducks down to press a kiss to my forehead, “we have a case.”

“Well,” he brushes my now wet hair from my face, “We have about an hour.”

“It takes me 45 on a good day Hotch.” I grumble and his eyes widen a little in disbelief as I’ve never told anyone where I live let alone how long it takes me to get to work until now. Until the very man I’ve been dreaming of for months is standing, very, very naked in my shower.

“Alright sweetheart, we’ll pick up some coffee on the way in.” My heart flutters at the pet name, my cheeks heating up and I’m burying my face in his muscular chest, “Sweetheart?”

“What happens when we enter the office?” I mumble against his chest.

“Nothing has to change.”

“Nothing has to change?”

“I promise”

Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@guacam011y @rosaliedepp @kajjaka

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