#laura mutters

[reagomyeggo]

day -checks notes- 13 without imogen temult, i fear i am losing my sense of direction. i wonder these wastelands under a red moon, searching for some way to gain my bearings however i know there shall not be any reprieve for more days to come. i shall persevere if only to see the one with lavender locks once more, in nine days time. i will continue to report any findings i come across worth noting. for now i will do so sparingly, as to conserve energy.

[geodebiome]

one day ill write an essay about MY roman empire, today is not that day. ill give thee this

[im-smart-i-swear]

More fnin doodles!! I headcanon that nika takes care of stray cats, sooo i drew her w/ a bunch of kitties!! Also trying to settle with a design for Laura and i think i'm getting there(FINALLY.)

[eufezco]

LOGAN AS A GIRL DAD°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

just pure fluff with pregnant!reader and logan <3

BEFORE PREGNANCY

being a dad at his age was something logan never imagined. starting a family seemed so out of reach, after everything he’d lived, he never thought that dad was a title he deserved. but then laura came into your life, and it was hard for him because you were a natural, effortlessly knowing how to care for her.

bit by bit, he began to follow your lead, picking up your habit of checking on her before bed and tucking her in, keeping an eye on her plate and making sure she finished her veggie, checking on her when she played outside and even sitting through her favorite cartoons.

and as you watched him, you’d catch yourself wondering what it would be like to bring another little life into this family you were building. the idea of getting pregnant crossed your mind more than once, and you could see it flicker in his eyes too, like an unspoken thought that made its way between you.

—you ever thought of having kids? —he asked, quiet but serious.

you took a few seconds to think about his question. not that you needed them, you'd always wanted to have his kids, and having laura had changed things, deepened the bond between you and logan, and brought your maternal instinct back. she wasn’t your biological child, but in every other way, she was yours.

the thought of bringing up the idea of getting pregnant to logan felt selfish, especially when you knew how much he had already given and how tired he was, you knew that, so you kept your hopes to yourself, not wanting to ask for more than the peace you had found with him and laura.

—we have laura —. you answered.

—yeah, we do. but… that’s not what i’m talking about.

there was a few seconds of silence while he waited for your answer.

—yes, i've thought about it but—

—have you thought about it recently?

you nodded to his question, feeling guilty.

he slowly nodded back to you. —i've been thinking about it too.

DURING PREGNANCY

logan started helping caliban in the kitchen, something that surprised you at first because he had never been much of a cook. but the two of them would work together, preparing meals that were good for you and the baby. logan would quietly chop vegetables or stir a pot, taking caliban’s instructions (also surprising because he had not followed anyone's instructions in a long time) as they worked to make sure you had everything you needed to stay healthy.

he’d help you with things like showering when it became difficult for you to balance or reach certain places. his touch was always gentle, his movements careful, making sure you felt safe. it became an intimate routine, his fingers massaged your scalp with care.

every night he'd gently rub lotion on your growing belly, helping to care for the stretch marks that had started to appear. he knew how self-conscious they made you feel. he could see it in the way you’d glance at your reflection, letting out a frustrated huff each time you noticed a new one, how you’d try to hide it from him, or how you’d wrap yourself in a towel quickly after a shower. so he took his time applying the lotion with steady hands, his eyes focused as if making sure he was doing it right.

—another one? —you muttered, feeling the weight of it.

—doesn’t change a thing —. logan just shook his head, kneeling beside you. —it’s just a mark. i'm covered in marks, and you never cared, right?

laura sat close to you, her eyes focused on your belly as logan gently massaged your skin. she was waiting, as she always did, hoping to see her future sister move. each time logan’s hand smoothed over your growing bump, laura’s gaze would sharpen, her small body leaning forward saying come on, little sis, just one kick. sometimes she’d place her hand beside logan’s, her touch gentle but curious.

—is she going to move soon? —she’d ask in a hushed voice.

logan glanced at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. —she’s already kickin' when you’re not looking —. he teased lightly as he rubbed the cream over your stretch marks, carefully. laura’s eyes never left your belly, waiting for that one special moment.

and he'd give you foot massages, his calloused hands rubbing away the soreness from carrying extra weight. you’d close your eyes, sighing in relief, and he’d smile.

when your clothes stopped fitting, it was he who offered up his own. he’d hand over his t-shirts and flannels, which hung loose on you and smelled like him, making you feel him close to you even when he was away at work.

logan was a bit reluctant at first but when the doctor told him how important prenatal yoga was to you, he didn't have to think about it twice. he wanted to be there and help you in every way he could even though he felt a bit out of place among the soft music, peaceful atmosphere, and expectant mothers, but he never let it show.

he'd help you find comfort in each of the poses the instructor guided everyone. he was often the only man in the class, which certainly caught the attention of the other moms. perhaps they noticed the age gap between you and logan, but more likely, their attention was drawn to your undeniably handsome partner. some of them whispered to each other, half-jokingly expressing their jealousy at how lucky you were to have such a dedicated partner. you both noticed the glances but you were too focused on each other.

as the weeks went by, the mothers would often smile at him, offering you two the kindest words as they saw how attentive he was to your needs.

at the end of the class, logan leaned in and kissed you softly, his hand resting on your back. —you did great —. he murmured, his voice full of pride. as you started to gather your things, one of the mothers nearby smiled and said, you're a lucky girl.

you couldn’t help but blush a little. he gave a small, almost shy smirk in response but didn’t say anything. instead, he focused on helping you with your bag.

the moment you found out you were pregnant, he quit smoking. it was almost instinctive, he wanted nothing but the best for you and the baby, and that included kicking the habit that had stuck with him for years.

and giving up cigarettes was one thing, but quitting drinking was way harder. there were nights he’d sit in the kitchen, staring at the bottle in the cabinet, knowing he could just reach for it. but he remembered you asleep in the other room, a hand resting protectively over your belly, and he’d push the thought away. he didn’t want his daughter growing up with memories of whiskey lingering on her father’s breath.

DURING LABOR

logan was more terrified than he'd ever let you know. he had faced, battles survived unimaginable pain, and lived through horrors but this was different. watching you in pain, knowing that your body was going through something so intense shook him to his core.

he stayed by your side, gripping your hand tightly and leaning in close, his voice encouraging you to push. he'd brush the damp strands of hair that were sticking to your face and press his forehead to yours.

when the baby’s first cry filled the room, logan sighed in relief, his grip on your hand softening as he finally allowed himself to breathe. once the doctors placed her on your chest, logan leaned in by your side, his eyes shining as he looked at you. you did so good, baby, thank you so much he murmured as he kissed your sweaty forehead and one of his fingers brushed across the baby’s little cheek.

AFTER PREGNANCY

at first, he was terrified every time he held her, his usually steady hands suddenly unsure. he was afraid that even his touch might be too much. she was so tiny, so soft and fragile, and her chest rose and fell so peacefully even though her small fingers wrapped around logan's thick ones with such strength. he found himself holding his breath whenever he picked her up.

in those first few days after labor, logan seemed to be everywhere at once. checking on the baby, bringing you food, making sure you were sleeping and laura wasn't trying to sneak into your room to see the baby. she was fascinated by her little sister, how could a human being be so small? laura often asked herself.

logan would catch her on her tiptoes, face with curiosity, and he’d stop her with a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder. laura would pout, glancing past him with wide eyes, eager to get closer, but logan wasn’t having it.

you surprised him when you caught him slipping into a soft, almost comical baby voice whenever he spoke to his daughter. but it was completely unintentional, just something that happened whenever he looked down at her tiny face, her big eyes blinking up at him. oh, what’s that little face all about, huh? you got somethin’ to say, little one? he’d murmur, his voice high and gentle as he rubbed one of her cheeks.

logan never thought he’d find joy in something as simple as dressing up his little girl, but there he was, surrounded by tiny clothes, immersed in a world of pastels and patterns. the laughter that escaped his lips as he put together the outfits was genuine. alright, sweetheart, what do you think of this one? he would ask her, holding the little one in front of the mirror. the baby had no idea what was going on, but logan nodded, approving the outfit. he’d try on multiple outfits, taking photos, and sending them to you for your opinion. how about this for school? he’d text you, proudly. this one’s a bold choice, but i think you can pull it off, he’d tease, pretending to be a fashion critic.

leaving for work each day became one of the hardest things logan had to do. he hated those hours he spent apart from the three of you. and every night when he came home, the baby was already sleeping but he'd tiptoe over to the crib, and he'd place a gentle kiss on the top of her head. then he’d make his way to bed, crawling next to you and pulling you close against his chest. he’d nuzzle his head close, murmuring softly, you okay, darlin’? and though you’d only mumble a half-coherent answer, he’d still give a small, satisfied nod.

and when he gets out of work earlier, he comes home exhausted, and you can see it in his face, the tired lines around his eyes, the slight droop of his shoulders, the way he rubs the back of his neck, but despite that, he is never too tired to play with his baby girl.

as the baby grew, logan took on new challenges, like driving her to school each morning, packing her tiny backpack with her favorite snacks, and doing her hair. with dark brown locks just like laura's and his own, he gathered them into two little ponytails, a bit clumsy at first, his fingers were used to fighting and rough work, not delicate hairstyles.

laura, after seeing how much fun logan had with the little girl’s hair, wanted no less. she’d approach him, eyes bright with excitement. —can you do my hair too, logan?

—your mom can do it for you. she's much better at it than i am —. he answered, not sure if his hairdressing skills would meet the older girl's expectations.

—but i want you to do it!

logan huffed, ruffling her hair with his free hand. he used the same care gathering laura's long hair as he did for her baby sister and he found it incredibly satisfying to see laura's face light up when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

after all, he was meant to be a girl's dad. every moment with you and your daughters reminded him that all those years of solitude and struggles, had led him here to a life filled with love. he might have thought being a dad was beyond his reach, but now, he knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.

[thinkinonsense]

I KNEW YOU IN ANOTHER LIFEᰔ

dp&w!logan howlett x past wife!reader

cw: mostly angst, some fluff, sorta mean logan, cussing.

wc: 800+

a/n: this is inspired by a one-shot I read a while back but I cannot remember who wrote it. If anyone knows, please please please let me know in the comments so I can give them credit <3 update!!! this is it!!

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

The last person you thought you would find here in the void is Logan. There has never been a Wolverine in here. You almost didn't believe it when you found out; needing to see him for yourself. And here he was. Right in front of you, the Logan you grieved all those years ago. The one who stole your heart.

Your Logan.

"And who the fuck are you?" He barked, pushing you away from him.

Those words broke your heart the second they left his lips.

Wade smacks Logan, informing him of your past together. Logan looked like he didn't believe Wade at first. You were way too beautiful for any version of him, Logan thought. What would someone like you want with a man like him?

Tears well up in your eyes as you leave, not wanting it to sting anymore. Laura follows you, glaring at the man who looked like her father. Logan didn't seem to care about the new information, instead reaching for another one of Gambit's bottles.

"I'm sorry, mom," Laura whispers, wrapping her arms around you.

"It's okay, sweetie. I'm not sure what I expected to happen." You sniffle. "He just looks so much like him."

"I know."

Suddenly, Laura stood up and stomped out the door to confront the man who upset her mother. She found Logan sitting outside alone by the fire.

"Look kid, I'm not the man you and your mother think I am." Logan sighs, not even bothering to turn around to check if it's Laura.

"You made her cry," Laura hissed, ignoring his previous comment. Logan looked up at the young girl almost apologetically before shaking his head. "Her Logan would have never made her cry."

Logan felt a sharpness in his stomach at the news. Deep down, he wondered if you two were together at some point. He doubted it though because you looked out of his league. If a past version of him managed to marry you then maybe he did some good during his time.

"If you two haven't noticed, I'm the worst Logan apparently."

"You don't have to be."

ᰔ

It's late when you finally stumble out of bed, not able to sleep. Hours of tossing and turning, trying to get Logan out of your mind. This felt like a cruel joke on your poor heart. You know it's unfair to have him pretend to be your Logan but you desperately wanted it to be him.

All of your memories together haunt your mind like a graveyard. Sweet Sundays spent wrapped in sheets. How he kissed your face every morning, had you wear his dog tags, and ride on the back of his motorcycle. You would give anything to get just one of those moments back.

"What are you doin' awake?"

The voice behind you caused you to jump slightly. A hand coming to rest on your back. You turn around, face-to-face with Logan.

"Can't sleep." You shrugged, opening the freezer to pull out a container of strawberry ice cream.

"That shit won't help you sleep." He grunts, sitting at the table. You ignore his grumpiness and continue scooping the ice cream into a bowl.

"Can we talk?" Logan didn't look you in the eyes as he spoke. Too ashamed of his actions earlier.

"I suppose so." You shrugged, pulling the spoon from between your lips.

"Were we really married?"

You answer by pulling the chain around your neck for him to see. A small diamond ring dangled next to the dog tags he gave you. The moment he saw it, he felt like the biggest asshole who ever lived.

"How many years?" The words stung in his throat.

"Five."

"What was our life like?"

"Perfect." You smile softly down at your bowl. "At least it was to me."

"You did a good job with raising her." He muttered, referring to Laura.

"You would have to."

He's silent for a second, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of being a husband and a father. He wished he knew what it was like to be cared for as much as you cared for your Logan.

"You know, you have the same look in your eyes," Your voice was so quiet, stepping closer to him until you were in front of him.

Logan could see the desperation on your face as you stared at his lips. It would be wrong for him to toy with your widowed heart, but he wanted to be the man you needed. The man you deserved.

"I'm not him, sweetheart," He said, attempting to stop you before you hurt yourself. "And I don't want you to get hurt-"

"Please," You beg, eyes filling up with tears. "I don't care who you are. I just don't want it to hurt anymore."

You were slowly killing him. How could he say no to you? Even if he was the worst Logan, he has a heart. Which is why he lets you close the gap between the two of you. His hands are tangled in your hair while one of yours rests on his jaw before climbing into his lap.

For the first time in years, your heart began beating again. You and Logan could play pretend for now. Neither of you cared what would happen tomorrow, right now was all that mattered.

[imastoryteller]

Write Like a Director: Crafting a Cinematic Novel (With Examples)

Writing a novel like a movie means propelling your reader through scenes with relentless momentum, slashing through fluff, and ensuring each word drives the plot forward. Trust your readers to connect the dots through dialogue and action, immersing them in vivid, immediate experiences without drowning them in verbose descriptions. Every chapter should feel like a high-octane scene, keeping readers on the edge of their seats, hungry for the next twist, the next revelation. Keep it tight, keep it thrilling. Here are some examples to illustrate each aspect of this dynamic storytelling approach:

Fast Pacing

Chase Through the Alley: Jake sprinted down the narrow alley, the thud of heavy boots echoing behind him. A sharp left, then a right—no time to think, just run. This example thrusts the reader directly into a high-speed chase, emphasizing immediate action and urgency.

Heist in Progress: The vault door creaked open. "Thirty seconds," Maria whispered, stuffing bonds into her bag. The alarm blared. "Move!" The scene conveys a sense of time running out and rapid movement, maintaining a brisk pace with no room for delays.

Dynamic, Fast-Going Plot

Kidnapping Twist: Laura opened her front door to find an empty stroller on her porch. A note inside read: "If you want to see her again, come alone." The unexpected discovery of a kidnapping sets up an immediate and compelling conflict, driving the plot forward swiftly.

Escape Plan: The prison lights flickered. "Now!" whispered Tom. They climbed through the hole, hearing guards’ shouts in the distance. The urgent breakout from prison keeps the plot dynamic and intense, with characters constantly on the move.

Show, Don't Tell

Fight in the Ring: Blood trickled down Max’s face. He clenched his fists, dodged a punch, and delivered a powerful uppercut that sent his opponent to the mat. The physicality and immediate consequences of the fight are shown through actions rather than explained through exposition.

Silent Farewell: Tears streamed down Lily’s cheeks as she handed Jack the letter. Without a word, he turned and walked away, his shoulders slumped. The emotional impact of the farewell is conveyed through the characters' actions and expressions, not through internal monologue or narrative explanation.

No Tedious Descriptions

Quick Change: Sam grabbed the nearest shirt and jeans, pulling them on as he ran out the door, glancing at the clock—he had five minutes to reach the station. The scene moves quickly from one action to the next, providing only essential details to maintain momentum.

Sudden Revelation: In the dim light, Sophie saw the glint of a ring on the thief’s finger. Her father's ring. She gasped, stepping back. The revelation is made through a brief visual detail, keeping the description succinct and impactful.

No Infodump

Mid-Battle Realization: Amidst the chaos, Sarah recognized the tattoo on the enemy soldier’s arm. Her brother. She hesitated, the war raging around her. The revelation about the brother is integrated into the action, avoiding lengthy explanations and keeping the focus on the immediate situation.

Urgent Discovery: Ethan flipped through the ancient book, stopping at a page with a familiar symbol. "It's the same as the pendant," he muttered, pocketing the book and running out. The discovery is brief and directly tied to the plot's urgency, with no extensive background information provided.

Avoid Fluff

Straight to Action: Ben didn’t bother with pleasantries. “We’re out of time,” he said, throwing the bag into the car. “Get in.” The scene cuts straight to the critical moment, avoiding unnecessary dialogue or description.

No Idle Chatter: Emma answered the phone, cutting off the caller's introduction. “What’s the plan?” she demanded, glancing at the clock. The character immediately seeks vital information, eliminating small talk and focusing on the plot's progression.

Tight, Immersive Narrative

Immediate Danger: As the elevator doors slid open, Mark saw the bomb timer: 00:10. He dived for the wires, heart pounding. The imminent threat and the character's swift reaction immerse the reader in the tension of the moment.

Critical Decision: The bridge was collapsing. Anna had seconds to decide—jump or try to save her friends. She took a deep breath and ran back. The character's quick decision-making in a life-or-death situation keeps the narrative focused and engaging.

By applying these principles, you can craft a novel that feels as dynamic and engaging as a blockbuster movie, keeping your readers hooked from the first page to the last.

---

+ If you find my content valuable, consider Support This Blog on Patreon!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Remy fic for @littlekidsteve

It has only been a little while since you and Remy had managed to escape the void along with Electra, Laura and Blade before biding them farewell, all the while you and Remy took a long walk as you both tried to figure out what you were going to do now that you were free.

Out of everyone you and Remy were the closet and so the idea of saying goodbye to one another after everything felt wrong, Remy had become apart of you as you became a vital part of him, so much so to the point neither of you could fathom an life without the other being apart of it some way or another.

‘Got any plans now that we’ve escaped the void?’ You asked him and he hums while shuffling his playing cards, a habit you noticed he had whether he was in need of a distraction or in deep thought.

‘I have been in the void for so long that I didn’t think I’d ever get out mon Cher, nor would get out so I made my inescapable prison a home, so all this is…rather new to me.’ Remy admits as he looked over at you with a soft expression before nudging you with his shoulder. ‘You have lived a life before the void, I think you’d be better suited for that question.’

You chuckled as you rubbed the back of your neck. ‘Yeah well I’m pretty sure they’ve pruned it by now, so I’m just as lost as you are and I haven’t been in the Void nearly as long as you have.’ You told him and Remy couldn’t help but chuckle as he went to grab your hand, intertwining it with his own. ‘Then we shall find a way to navigate our new life, together.’ He promised as he then brought your hand up to his lips before softly kissed it.

‘You promise?’ You asked.

‘I promise mon Cher.’ Remy echoed and suddenly everything felt like it was going to be okay, the void was long behind you both as the future was on the horizon, waiting for your both to take it

And soon enough with time and patience you and Remy found yourselves in your own little apartment -that was funnily enough not far from where Wade, Blind Al and Logan lived- and living a quiet, domestic lifestyle, just like you had wanted for a long time but couldn’t due to certain circumstances. You couldn’t help but smile softly upon first seeing Remy with an peaceful expression on his face as he slept, he looked beautiful and at ease with everything that you found yourself admiring him in silence, not wanting to ruin this moment by sneezing or shifting your weight and waking him by accident.

‘Wade is right. You are beautiful.’ You muttered lowly as you memorised his face and the way the light from the window made his skin glow an almost golden hue, making him look ethereal, as you took the time to appreciate the way his eyelashes kissed the apples of his cheeks. Remy was a handsome man and you were in no shape or form to deny it when you were more then aware of this face since the moment you met, but it wasn’t his physical appearance that drew you in but more or less his heart and his ability to light up anything that he touched, and soon enough you found yourself falling for the Cajun Frenchman more then you’d originally thought.

Remy has consumed your every waking and sleeping thought, claimed your body and heart as his own with how his eyes never seemed to leave you the moment you entered the room, smiling at you warmly before cross over to stand next to you for the rest of the day while occasionally showing off a new card trick he learnt. Even during combat Remy would stay close by to keep you safe when he felt that someone was getting too close for comfort by throwing one of his kinetically charged playing cards at them, and when you look over at him he just winks at you and continues the fight.

‘I can sense you watching me mon Cher.’ Remy said as he smiles cheekily, opening one eye to look at you as he brought a hand behind your head, pulling you in for a brief but sweet kiss before pulling away to look at you. ‘Am I really as beautiful as you say?’ He adds in a whisper as though he didn’t want anyone else to hear your conversation.

‘You can’t be blind to your own beauty can you Remy?’ You asked as you moved a hand to rest upon his chest, tapping your fingers against his skin in an unheard rhythm.

‘I’m not, I just want to hear you say it.’ Remy replied as he found his eyes wandering across your face with fondness and admiration. You couldn’t help but laugh as you rested your head against his chest, nuzzling into him. ‘You are indeed beautiful Remy Lebeau, the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on.’ You admit as you look at him, pressing a kiss to his chin as you felt his arms tighten on you, restraining you from moving away from him.

‘You flatter me Cher, but it is you who’s the most beautiful.’ Remy says as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, breathing in the shampoo and conditioner you used and closing his eyes, never having the luxury of experiencing peace before in his life but finding himself falling in love with it as fast as he did with you. Remy felt as though he could stay in this bed forever with you but knew with your plans for later today he wouldn’t, though that didn’t stop him from doing whatever he could to keep you in his arms.

‘Wade, Logan, Laura and their friends are coming over soon.’ You murmured.

‘I know.’ Remy relied.

‘We should get up soon.’ You continued.

‘I know.’ Remy repeated as he kissed your head again, cuddling you further into his chest. ‘We’ll get up soon, but for now can we just…stay here, please Cher.’ He adds in a plea and you couldn’t help but feel yourself slipping into sleep the longer you stayed in Remy’s comforting and strong arms.

‘I guess five minutes wouldn’t hurt.’ You said as you nuzzled yourself into his neck, kissing it. ‘Then we’ll have to…to…wake.’ Before you could finish your sentence you had found yourself fast asleep as Remy smiled down at you. ‘I’m sure they won’t mind Cherie, they’ll understand.’ He says before joining you in dream land.

Bonus:

‘Where the fuck are they?!’ Wade shouted as he, Logan, Laura, Al, dogpool and the rest of his friends stood outside in the hallway to yours and Remy’s apartment after banging on the door for the past five minutes.

‘They’re probably still asleep, best we leave them be before we fucking wake the rest of the apartment complex.’ Logan said, side eyeing Wade as he sifted the welcome gifts in his arms.

Wade pouts and just as they were about to leave, a rugged and scruffy looking you and Remy opened the door to greet them as Wade laughs. ‘You two looked like as though we’ve interrupted something between you two.’ Wade the leaned towards you to whisper. ‘Is the French dick that good?’ You glared at him as you flicked him on the forehead, watching him as he winced and rubbed his forehead with a pout.

‘We may or may not have overslept thanks to someone.’ You nudged Remy in the side as he smiles cheekily and brings an arm to your waist, tugging you into his side. ‘Guilty as charged.’ He said proudly as you both stepped aside for everyone to enter your shared apartment before joining them, happy to have known such weird yet beautiful people.

[thefreakandthehair]

unplug it (please)

written for ‘plug’ | wc: 437 | rated: m | tags: hospital setting, post-canon fix-it, mutual pining, love confession, requited feelings, fluff, humor, confident steve harrington, eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington (and the machines he’s hooked up to blow his secret) @steddiemicrofic

When Eddie woke up a week after becoming demobat bait, he thought the worst was behind him.

He thought wrong.

It was easy enough early in his recovery to pass his rapid pulse off as a reaction to, well, everything, but that excuse didn't work anymore. At least not on Steve, who happens to be the reason for his humiliating problem.

Like clockwork, Steve entered Eddie’s room with a warm smile.

“Back already?” Eddie asked.

“Not getting rid of me that easy,” Steve teased and plopped down into the hard chair with nothing but a skinny blue cushion for comfort.

I could do better than that chair, he thought. I’d give Steve a great place to sit.

Bee-beep. Bee-bee-beep. Beep.

If he was able to bend down, he’d unplug the fucking machine. It’s embarrassing.

“Your heart’s still doing that? I told Laura!”

Laura’s the worst, but Eddie can’t jeopardize someone else's job just because he’s a coward. Maybe that’s why he said what he said next.

“It's because of you,” he muttered, realizing belatedly how that sounded when he saw Steve’s smile fall.

“Not like that! Fuck. Steve, I’m a weak man and you’re… you. You threatened to have your mom pull her funding from the hospital if they didn’t really try to save me. You carried me out of Mordor! How was I supposed to not fall in love with you after that? I hate that monitor, blowing all of my secrets.”

Eddie’s confession hung heavy in the silence, broken only by the erratic beeping of the monitor, as Steve sat forward with his elbows on his knees. He cleared his throat, and scratched the tip of his nose.

“Did I hear that right?”

“Yep.” Eddie could lie. He could walk it all back, but he didn’t want to be a runner anymore.

“Great, so do you wanna wait until you get out of here for a first date, or should I bring the first date to you?” Steve muses. “I think Laura might give me shit for trying to light a candle in here with the sprinklers.”

“Are you serious?”

“You think you’re the only weak man in this room? You bled through my jacket and I had to wash your blood off my shoulders.” Steve shrugged, one corner of lips just barely upturned. “I almost lost you. I’m not taking that chance again.”

“When you put it like that, I don’t wanna wait.”

“Good."

Eddie’s heart monitor skipped beats, racing as Steve leaned closer, his lips just barely touching his cheek in a soft, innocent kiss.

"Get ready to be wined and dined, Munson.”

[p0orbaby]

More Than Friends

summary: just two oblivious softies

warnings: none!

a/n: inspired by this request !

word count: 1.6k

-

You’ve known Leah for years. You’ve been through it all—school, youth academy, the awkward phase of realising you’re both gay and your parents’ tragic attempts to understand what that meant.

If anyone asks, Leah’s your best friend. You hang out all the time, have a weekly standing breakfast date at some overpriced organic café because Leah insists their smoothies are life-changing, and, on more than one occasion, you’ve been caught having full-on wrestling matches on the living room rug when someone makes the mistake of putting on a reality show with a competitive element.

The Chase, we’re looking at you!

But you’re just friends. Sure, Leah looks at you like you’ve sewn every star in the sky just for her, and yeah, you’ve caught yourself wondering what it would be like if she ever kissed you, but you’re both practical, reasonable adults. If there was something more between you, you’d know by now. You’re practically soulmates, but the platonic kind. The kind that talk about who they’d date if they ever started dating again. Which you’re not, because you’re both “too busy” with your own lives and “not really looking for anyone right now.”

It’s funny, though. Everyone else seems to have a different opinion. Your mutual friends, like that time Laura came over for a movie night and blatantly refused to sit between you and Leah on the sofa, claiming, “I’m not going to be the third wheel in whatever the hell is going on here.” Or when Beth invited you both to her birthday party but refused to put you on the seating chart together because, as she said, “It’s not a double date, guys”

To which you responded with a classic, “Who, us? We’re just friends!”

You don’t see what the big deal is. Leah texts you constantly, and sure, she sometimes insists on picking out your clothes before you go anywhere because “You need to stop wearing those same jeans every time we go out.” You just think it’s because Leah’s a bit of a control freak, which you’ve told her multiple times. Her rebuttal? “You just have no taste”

No taste? You’ve got plenty of taste, actually. Leah’s always complimenting you, too, which really doesn’t help her argument. Last week, when you wore that new jacket she made you buy, she practically wolf-whistled in the middle of the bar. “Looking good, babe,” she’d said, and you rolled your eyes so hard you almost lost contact with reality.

“Please, Williamson, contain yourself,” you’d muttered, but you couldn’t hide the grin on your face.

And then there’s the flirting. At least, what your friends call flirting.

To you, it’s just banter. You’re naturally a bit cheeky, and Leah can give as good as she gets. Like the time you told her she looked particularly dashing in her new suit, and she leaned in close, eyes locked on yours, and whispered, “If you think I’m dashing now, wait until you see me without it”

You sputtered something unintelligible, but it was fine because Leah just laughed and punched your arm, hard enough that you felt it for the next two hours. Flirting? That’s not flirting, that’s just classic Leah.

Sure, sometimes the banter takes a turn that even you can’t quite explain. Like when you two were at that men’s match, and during halftime, when they were playing that cheesy love song over the stadium speakers, Leah turned to you with a smirk and said, “This is our song”

“Our song?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” she said, leaning back in her seat, arms crossed like she just made a killer play, “You know, if we were like, one of those couples”

You laughed, because of course that’s funny, right? Leah, your best mate, who’s currently watching you with this mischievous glint in her eye, almost like she’s daring you to challenge her. “You’re so silly,” you said, throwing a handful of popcorn at her. She just winked and said, “That’s why you love me”

Right. That’s why you love her. Like a friend. Like a really good friend who also looks great in every lighting, and who you’d fight a pack of wolves for if the situation ever arose. You’ve actually had that discussion—a hypothetical about how many wolves it would take before one of you chickened out. Leah’s confident she could take on at least five, maybe six if they’re “not like, super rabid or anything”

You told her she’s delusional, and then she offered to demonstrate how she’d do it. So there you were, in the middle of your kitchen, Leah making slow-motion karate chops and what she called “strategic” growling noises, while you struggled to keep a straight face and actually managed to look concerned when she said, “You think I couldn’t handle a wolf? I’d rip its head off, and I’d do it for you”

You didn’t tell her that’s probably the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to you. Because it’s not romantic, it’s just Leah. And that’s why you love her.

-

“Stop saying that,” Katie groans one night when you’re all out for drinks and Leah’s leaning on you in that way she does when she’s too tired to keep her head up. It’s a good thing Leah’s more of a lightweight than you because the last thing you need is her realising she’s practically snuggling into your side like an oversized cat.

“Saying what?” you ask, but you already know. You just want to make her spell it out.

“That you’re just friends,” she says, exasperated, like she’s said this a hundred times, which she probably has. “You two act like you’re married, and you don’t even acknowledge it”

Leah makes a noncommittal noise, half-asleep against your shoulder. “We’d make a cute couple, though, wouldn’t we?”

“Totally,” Katie says, deadpan, staring at you with raised eyebrows like she’s trying to telepathically scream at you to get a grip.

“We would,” you agree, patting Leah’s head because that’s what friends do. “But we’re not”

Katie just sighs, long and loud, and mutters something about denial.

Leah’s not helping. She keeps doing things that make your heart beat a little faster, like that time she grabbed your hand to cross the street and didn’t let go until well after you were on the other side. Or when she showed up at your place at 2 in the morning with your favorite snacks because you’d mentioned in passing that you were having a bad day. You’d called her an idiot for driving in the middle of the night just for you, and she just grinned and said, “Well, what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

“You’re not my girlfriend,” you corrected her.

“Right,” she said, smirking like she knew something you didn’t, “I’m not”

If you weren’t so oblivious, you might think she’s trying to tell you something. But you are, so you don’t. Instead, you two carry on as usual—bickering like an old married couple, sharing clothes, pretending that the lingering touches and inside jokes are all part of the package deal that comes with being best friends.

Because that’s all it is. Just friends. Nothing more.

Nothing more until the day you catch Leah staring at you during one of your movie nights. You’re halfway through a rom-com, the kind you both pretend to hate but secretly love, and you glance over to see her looking at you with an expression that you’ve never quite seen before. It’s soft, like she’s memorising your face, and there’s something in her eyes that makes your stomach flip.

“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious, because Leah’s never looked at you like that before.

“Nothing,” she says, but she doesn’t look away, and now your heart’s doing that stupid thing where it speeds up like you’ve just run a mile.

And maybe, just maybe, you start to wonder if everyone else might be onto something.

[hadersversion]

i had a long day but obviously there’s only one thing on my mind….if you guessed logan howlett, you’re correct! but if you guessed old man! logan, i owe ya a scratchy on friday ;)

but….

imagine old man! logan and a librarian! reader.

logan, laura, and charles moved out into the countryside in oregon. settling down in a nice cabin in the woods, town being a few miles away.

you lived nearby, all by your lonesome. you worked in town at the local library. charles brought laura in the one day, searching for some old book that you’re pretty sure they stopped printing in the 70s…but you didn’t want to let the old geezer down so you did some digging. you watched as laura walked around the building, eyes open in awe. it’s almost like she’s never seen a library before. she stopped in front of a child’s chapter book collection, eyeing it up.

“that one’s my favorite, you could borrow it if you want to. i’m sure your grandfather would let ya get a library card.” you winked at her.

she looked at you then the books, a small smile appearing. she grabbed the book and walked up to the counter with you, charles eagerly waiting to see what laura picked. you start to get laura’s library card ready, turning your back on the two.

“there you two are, got me thinking i lost ya out there.” a gruff voice said from behind.

you turned around, library card and book in hand.

“what the hells that?” he asks.

the man is tall, older looking. but nonetheless handsome. his broad shoulders being hugged by a flannel.

“a library card. for laura.” you smile, handing it over to her. “remember in two weeks you have to return it. or whenever your finished.” you said.

logan looked down at you, studying your kind demeanor. you’re cute, he thought, really cute. the large cardigan covering your body as glasses sit atop your head. but logan being logan, pushes down any feeling and huffs. “cars running, let’s go.”

charles and laura wave bye before leaving, you watch as the man pushes him out. his shoulders are tensed. his grey hair sticking up every which way and his matching beard needing a trim. but something about him intrigued you.

laura and charles become regulars at the library, constantly visiting and perusing the shelves. often spending hours just reading and enjoying the silence. and there’s logan, waiting around like he has something better to do.

“ya know, readings actually good for you? right?” you joke.

he rolls his eyes. “got more important things to do than sit around in this stuffy place all day.”

“grumpy.” you mutter, causing him to look over at you. “why don’t you go look for something? there’s gotta be something you like!”

he shakes his head. “doubt it.”

you grab his hand and pull him towards the shelves. “come on, give it a try.” you pour your lip.

his breathe hitches and his eyes burn into you. he’s never been this close to you. been able to smell your scent of a flowery perfume and bubblegum. his demeanor changes a bit, staring at your lips. if he was already thinking about you a lot, this was definitely not helping. “fine.”

you spend the afternoon looking for anything that will please this man.

“war books?”

“been there, done that.”

“art history?”

“do i look like an art professor?”

“maybe in a past time.” you wink. “hmm, cooking?”

he shakes his head.

“god, you’re so hard to please.” you go through each section. “the history of harley davidson?”

this piqued his interest. “let me see that.” he grabs it, pushing his glasses off his head and onto his face.

you could do a celebration dance. “told ya!”

“yeah, yeah. let me go find the kid and the old man to check this book out.”

logan starts joining the two on the library trips. he says it’s to find more books on automotives. but charles often teases him that it’s to see his favorite librarian.

he denies but even laura knows the truth.

the old man has a crush.

[eloquentlytired]

— when the time comes

pairing: old man!logan howlett x gn! reader

word count: no idea but this one isn't very long.

part two is out!

tags: major character death — angst — reader is logan’s sunshine — mention of blood & wounds — logan low-key proposing 5 seconds before he dies — non established relationship

author's note: this has been on my mind since 2 days ago so I had to do it now.. I hope you guys enjoy reading this heartbreak! and yes I wrote this after watching Logan (2017) again. just a bit of an alternative type of ending so I can write abt logan x reader! as always reblogs & likes & conversations are sooo welcome ^_^

god stood me up

and I don't know why

lights are on

but nobody's home

you find him leaning against a tree trunk, a chunk of wood piercing his sides open as blood soaks through his shirt. that isn't the only wound he's sporting but it's the most evident one; the one that'll possibly lead him to his demise.

logan blinks upon noticing you as if he's just seeing things or dreaming. when you crouch down beside him and place your hand on his arm, he realizes exactly just how real you are. “logan?” there are tears in your eyes and he hates that you're crying because of him again. you had been living with him, charles and caliban way before it all turned to shit. and somehow the only ones left standing were laura and you. and the kids that logan had managed to save; he truly had saved so many lives.

there's a silence aside from his heavy breathing before your shaky hands cup his face. the blood flows out of his wound and mouth like a river. in some way you're bleeding too — inside your heart. “hey sunshine.” logan whispers with a soft smile and you feel something tear your chest apart from the inside. “I made you cry again.” you see the way his hand twitches by his side. he wants to touch you but he's old and tired and wounded. there's no energy left in him to move anymore. “the kids are okay, laura is okay— I have the car and..and there's still time— the hospital—” your voice trails off when logan closed his eyes.

“you know what makes me angry, sunshine?” logan asks and you simply stare at him, shaking your head. when he opens his eyes again, they are full of unshed tears. “gonna miss my daughter’s first birthday with me—” logan mutters brokenly and the vision of laura swims beneath his half-opened eyelids. and after laura there is you; smiling. at the beach. you've always wanted to go to the beach with him but he never took you since he was working day and night to take care of everything. of everyone. “and i’m also gonna miss my sunshine.” his eyes fall on you, on your crying face. the tears sliding down your cheeks are plenty and there is so much emotion pooling in those orbs of yours. logan wants to kiss you, tell you it'll be alright. but he can’t even move.

he coughs, some blood spluttering on his white shirt and you flinch. your fingers shake as you slide them through his messy hair, stroking them in the way he’s always loved. “logan, I'm sorry...I— I'm so sorry logan..” you keep chanting and logan feels the frustration in his bones when he tries to move his arms. he can't, he's too weak now, and he's angry with himself that he's unable to comfort you the way he wants. the way he once could but never did. “not you nor the entire world could ever prevent this, sunshine. it was meant to be like this.” he says before coughing again, more blood trickling down his beard.

you crawl by his side, on the dirty ground, and press against his ‘good’ side while leaning your head on his shoulder. you tilt your head back enough for your eyes to reach his exhausted face. logan maintains a smile you haven't seen in forever. in damn years to be precise. “charles spoke to me of other timelines and some shit about— multiverse was it?” he pauses, taking a deep breath. “I don't fucking know. I just wanted him to take the damn pills.” his sentence makes both of you laugh although logan is holding back with that — it'll only cause more physical pain after all. “point is..if it's true then—”

“—we gotta find each other yeah? and laura.” his eyes aren't on you anymore but they're in the sky. it's bluer than ever and the clouds part to show him the sun. logan doesn't look away even if it makes his eyes ache. you stare. “wanna make it right, sunshine.” he tells you as you sniffle by him. his fingers flinch again between your bodies and you slide a single hand down to hold his own, to intertwine your fingers in a gentle mess. “but for now I want to rest.” logan whispers and your grip tightens around his hand. if he had the strength, he'd squeeze back. you knew this.

“you did excellent.” you finally manage to say, a little steadier this time. logan averts his gaze to you as you continue. “you did a good job. you did such a good job.” you repeat with a smile so soft that logan starts yearning for you already. his faint chuckle turns into a rough cough and he takes some time to recover before speaking again.

“maybe after I rest, I'll open my eyes and..” you watch as logan’s eyes begin closing and how the heaving of his chest slows. he's deathly pale by now, the veins underneath his eyes are prominent, but your grip never slackens. you crawl closer until your foreheads touch. logan draws one last breath and you swallow down your cry. “and I'll see my daughter. and my... spouse.” your eyes shoot open wide but logan’s remain fallen shut. your chest heaves up and down intensely but logan’s remains still.

when the time comes, your feet are forcefully dragging you away towards your old car while logan lies beneath the ground.

[pitchsidestories]

looks can be misleading II Beth Mead x Vivianne Miedema x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1928

a/n: the inspiration for this oneshot came from this adorable request here.

Playing for Arsenal had always been your dream, even as a little child. But now that you were actually here, at the Arsenal Training Centre, reality looked much different. You hated everything.

From the way the other players stared at you, taking in your tattooed arms when you were first introduced to team to the fact that they never seemed to shut up and kept yelling at each other.

As a person who liked it quiet and to keep to herself, it was all too much, too loud. Your social battery had been empty before the warm-up was even over.

So while your new teammates stayed on the training pitch, chatting away, you headed for the shower. Maybe if you were fast enough, you had a few quiet moments to yourself.

You could even be done before the others joined. You walked with quick, impatient steps towards the dressing room, missing the conversation right behind you.

“What do you guys think about the new girl?”, Leah asked the others, genuine curiosity in her voice.

Kim shrugged with a small smile: “I like that she doesn’t talk much.“

“Of course you do.“, Lia laughed, bumping her arm against the smaller midfielders.

“Hey!“, Kim protested.

Laura chimed in, the sweetest smile on her lips: “I like her. She’s so mysterious and her tattoos are cool.“

Katie eyed the young Austrian like she just said the most stupid thing she ever heard: “Nah, I think she’s a bit weird, ye know?”

“I think I agree. She didn’t even say hello when Jonas introduced her.“, Leah stated.

Beth who had been listening quietly, assured her teammates: “We’ll tell you how she’s with us at home.“

“Good luck with her.“, Manu grinned at her.“You know, I’ve gathered quite some experience with quiet, broody women.“ She inconspicuously nodded towards her girlfriend.

With a frown, Vivianne turned to her: “Wait, are you talking about me?”

“Who else would I be talking about, babe?”

Viv rolled her eyes with clear fondness for girlfriend: “Time to go home. Bye, guys.“

“Bye.“, their teammates echoed in unison. 

Beth and Vivianne were the ones that you would stay with until your own flat was ready to move in. If that meant days or weeks, who knew.

At least their apartment was close to the training centre and you had their guest room to yourself.

Sitting on your bed, you enjoyed being in your own company for a moment. A very short moment as you came to realize.

“Y/n? Do you want to come down and cook dinner with us?”, Beths called for you, her voice echoing from the walls and you wondered if the neighbours had heard her too.

You didn’t want to. But you also didn’t want to seem impolite so you joined them in their kitchen.

“I’m not great at cooking…“, you admitted.

“No problem, we can do this together.”, Beth assured you with an encouraging smile.

“Okay, sure.”, you shrugged.

“It’s easy.”, Viv added.

“Yes, you can start with cutting some veggies.”, her girlfriend advised you in an uplifting tone.

While you did as she said the Dutch woman cleared her throat nervously. “How did you like your first training session y/n?”

“Good.”, you answered monosyllabically as you focused on cutting the vegetables in front of you.

“And how do you like London? Do you have any family close by?”, Beth wanted to know curiously.

“I haven’t seen enough of the city yet to say if I like it and no, my family isn’t from here.”, you revealed. From the way you phrased your answer it was clear that you preferred to not talk about your familiar relations.  

“Oh.”, the blonde muttered surprised.

The rest of the cooking and dinner passed uneventfully. During the dinner Beth tried to get you to talk a little bit more, but that turned out to be unsuccessful.

“I’m going to bed, good night you two.”, you announced once you were done with eating.

“Good night, y/n. See you tomorrow.”, the English forward chirmed. She watched you leaving the kitchen with a loud sigh.

“She’s truly intimidating, Beth.”, Viv whispered when you were out of ear-sight. An amused twinkle was in her light eyes.

“Even you think so?”, Beth chuckled, resting the head on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Reluctantly the Dutch player put an arm around the smaller woman. For a moment she paused before admitting thoughtfully. “No, I think what she really needs is time, it’s not easy to be the new girl in the team.”

“You would know, huh?”, the English forward gave her a teasing smile.

“Yes, I do actually.”, Viv acknowledged, pressing a soft kiss to her girlfriend’s blonde hairline.

In the past she had quite often confessed that the beginning of her Arsenal career was quite tough for her.

As a young foreign girl who already had made herself known in the national team the Dutch forward had to accustomed to a new country, different playing style and a fresh pressure which came with playing for such a big club.

“We’ll see.”, Beth answered hoping her girlfriend was right about you.

“Morning y/n.”, she greeted you warmly the next morning, next to her the young dog was already bouncing excitedly.

“Morning.”, you mumbled suppressing a yawn. It was clear for everyone that you were in desperate need of some caffeine.

“We’re taking Myle on a walk. Would you like to come with us? We can get coffee or something.”, the blonde offered smiling friendly.

“Uhm okay.”

“You don’t have to, obviously.”, Viv added quickly.

“No, I do.”, you smiled shily at them.

The couple seemed happy that you accepted their offer. You all shrugged on jackets and left for a stroll around the neighbourhood.

Beth and Viv walked slightly in front of you, politely giving you your own space while Beth kept talking and Vivianne just listened. You were perfectly fine just taking everything in and watching Myles’ floppy ears bounce with every step. You could feel a smile tug on the corner of your mouth.

When you reached the coffee shop, you offered to wait outside with Myle. Patiently, you sat at a table outside and rubbed your hands together. It was an unusually cold morning. Even the little dog at your feet seemed to shiver slightly in the cold air, despite the thick brown fur.

“Come here.“, you mumbled to yourself as you gently pulled Myle onto your lap, in hopes that your body warmth would help. She immediately curled up on your lap and let you pet her.

“Your puppy is really cute.“, you said softly as your two teammates reemerged from the coffee shop, steaming cups in their hands.

Beths’ face lit up as soon as she saw you two together: “Oh, looks like she likes you already.“

Myle lifted her head as if she was listening attentively.

You could feel your cheeks heating up: “She was getting cold so I warmed her…“

“That’s sweet of you. You like milk and sugar with your coffee, right?”, Beth smiled and pushed a cup of coffee towards you.

You gratefully reached for it, wrapping your hands around the warm drink. “I do. How did you get that?”

“I was hoping for the best. It was either that or black coffee.“, Beth laughed as she took the chair next to yours.

You sipped on your coffee and smiled: “Not bad.“

“Oh, so she can smile!”, Beth exclaimed happily.

You grimaced, slightly embarrassed.

"This is your and Myles' achievement, Beth.”, Vivianne told her girlfriend.

Beth laughed again and you had to admit, you could actually get used to that sound. “I think Myle deserved the majority of the credit.“

“She’s just so cute.“, you mumbled as you looked down at the puppy on your lap.

“Yes, she is.“, Beth agreed, her eyes wandering from Myle to your face.

There was something intense in her gaze and it made you immediately feel insecure, the blush creeping back into your cheeks, so you set the little dog down and got up from your seat, indicating that you would like to continue your walk. “Let’s go.“

Even though you were in London for almost a week now, you still preferred to run your laps away from others in training. You couldn’t focus on yourself when everyone kept talking. Besides, you didn’t care much for the gossip anyway that was so willingly shared during the warm-up.

As you ran by yourself, you didn’t hear any of the conversation Beth was having with her teammates on the other side of the pitch.

“Wait, are you serious, Beth? Are you still talking about her over here.“, Leah asked as she jogged alongside her teammate. She subtly nodded in your general direction.

“Leah! Of course I’m talking about her. She’s such a sweetheart once you get to know her.“

“One could think you’ve a crush on her, Beffy.”, Steph teased the friend grinning.

“I mean.”, the English forward run her free hand nervously through her blonde hair.

“Stephs not wrong here.”, Alessia commented with a cheeky smile.

“She’s kind of cute, don’t you think?”, Beth turned her head to look at her girlfriend, searching for the confirmation she needed.

“No, I do.”, Viv agreed.

“Well, this is going to be interesting.”, Kim remarked with a meaningful glance toward the couple.

The piece of their talk you did hear left you almost speechless.  “Wait, what?”, you interrupted them stunned.

“Oh, y/n.”, Beth sighed softly.

“I forgot my cleats I’ll be right back.”, you lied, you were desperate to get out of this uncomfortable situation as quick as possible.

“Shit.”, the Dutch forward cursed under her breath. There was a mutual understanding between Viv and her lover that didn’t need words, so they quietly followed you into the changing room.

“Y/n? If you feel more at ease not living at our home your place is ready.”, the younger of the two offered heavy heartedly.  

“Yeah, I’ll move out.”, you decided unable to look into their sad eyes.

“Sorry, for our teammates talk from earlier.”, Beth apologized biting her lip guiltily.

“Beth, Viv, stop.”, you demanded.

“We’ll leave.”, Viv nodded.

“No, I want to tell you something,. I like you two .. like a lot.”, you confessed it took all your bravery to say these words out loud.

You know your looks could be misleading, they made you appear tough: your muscles and tattoos were like your armour against a world which hasn’t always treated you with the kindness you and everyone really deserved.

But you were tired of being alone and the two women showed you a way to break out of the loneliness.

“We like you two.”, the Dutch woman assured you earnestly.

“Y/n, what are you trying to say?”, the blonde asked confused by the turn this discussion took.

“I don’t know what I’m trying to say, that’s the problem.”, you admitted.

“That’s okay.”, Beth replied.

“I guess thanks for everything. I’ll get my stuff later.”, you smiled sadly at them.

“Actually, Viv paused a second before continuing, you could stay with us.”

“Really? To be honest I’d like to stay at your home.”, you looked up surprised.

“Our home.”, Viv corrected you as Beth pulled you into a tight group hug.

“We got to keep her.”, the blonde hummed happily.

“Beth, I’m not Myle!”, you protested.

“No, but you’re just as cute.”, she answered giving you a kiss to your cheek which immediately turned red.

Despite the banter these two and the dog were the closet thing you had to call home.

[starrystevie]

steve's desperate, okay?

he's officially running late for his first date with linda because he couldn't find his car keys and the shirt he wanted to wear just wasn't working so he had to grab something out of his hamper and throw it on blindly which then messed up his hair and he almost forgot to brush his teeth again but remembered as he opened the front door and-

he only realizes he forgot to put on cologne once he makes it halfway to her house and smells himself. the shirt from the hamper smells stale, not bad, just stale. and steve in his normal, non-rushed state wouldn't have noticed because his trusty calvin klein would have covered it up but today is apparently not a day for things to go right.

with a sigh of frustration, steve pulls into the hook's drugstore a little too quickly and it makes his stomach lurch the tiniest bit before sliding into an open parking sport at the front door. he rushes in, pushing the door open with too much force and books it to the fragrance aisle.

"this is so fucking stupid," he mutters to himself, unable to be heard by any surrounding shoppers over the annoyingly loud jingle playing through the speakers.

steve skids to halt in front of the cologne section, crouching down and scanning quickly over the tester bottles for obsession. once he spots the amber bottle, he yanks it towards himself, spraying as much as he can onto his chest given the awkward angle he's at. as he stands back up, steve pulls his shirt collar up towards his nose and the ball of nerves in his stomach loosens at the familiar smell. he may be late but he feels like he's back in the game.

checking his watch, he sees just how late he is and makes a beeline for the door, nearly running into an older lady with far too many rolls of toilet paper in her tiny arms. as he dodges around her and extends his arm to push open the door, he hears a loud voice over the intercom.

"you're not going to buy anything after stealing cologne?"

steve stops, freezes where he is and frantically turns his head around to spot the cashier grinning at him. he has long hair and a bright red hook's drugstore vest over a denim vest which doesn't look very comfortable. he has chains in his jeans and handcuffs holding his belt closed and a smirk that is trying to kill him and oh-

"wait, stealing cologne?" steve shakes himself back into existence as the old lady pushes by him without dropping a single roll on the way back to her car. "you're going to call me putting on a few sprays stealing?"

the cashier's smile just gets bigger, like a cat hunting down a canary. steve's never felt like a canary before but can't deny that it's an exciting feeling.

"well, on a good day i wouldn't. but i'm bored and you didn't buy a single thing so technically, yes. you're stealing, pretty boy."

steve fights the urge to roll his eyes and put his hands on his hips, so instead he crosses them over his chest, cologne wafting up from the movement and reminding him that he doesn't have time for this no matter how cute the cashier may be.

he makes his way over to the counter, grabs a pack of gum and slams it on the counter. without breaking eye contact with eddie, as his nametag suggests, he throws him a salty smile of his own and pulls his wallet out from his back pocket.

eddie's eyes are a deep brown with a glimmer of something behind them and his hands are covered in rings making his fingers look long and strong. the jeans he has on are ripped on one of the the thighs, showing a hint of a tattoo to match the ones crawling up his arms. steve's no stranger to thinking men are attractive but this guy? he's on a new level. his heart thumps painfully in his chest when eddie's grin grows larger as he watches steve give him a once over. it thumps even harder when eddie gives him a once over of his own.

the clock above the register shows that he's officially 20 minutes late to picking up... laura? lisa?

no, linda. damnit.

eddie looks down at the gum and then back up at steve, quirking up an eyebrow. "i hardly think this monetarily equates to a bottle of cologne but-"

"oh come on!" steve huffs. eddie laughs and it's clear and bright, ringing off the cinderblock walls louder than the annoying jingle that's still playing. whatever fight steve may have had left in him drains away at the sound and suddenly he isn't thinking about the clock anymore. he feels his shoulders fall down to a more relaxed state, feels himself shift his weight on his feet to look more natural than ready to run at a moments notice.

"just kidding, man." eddie rings up the gum quickly and hands it back to steve. "sorry, you looked like you were in a rush. i shouldn't have created a scene just because i'm bored."

steve chuckles. "i'm already supremely late for my date so what's another five minutes. especially if it gets me..." he looks at the gum packet to look at what he even picked up in the first place. "... spearmint freshen-up gum."

"well there you go," eddie says, grin smaller than before, "a perfect thing to get for a date. everyone likes their date to be minty fresh for that first kiss."

it strikes somewhere in steve that he isn't expecting. the beemer is still out in the parking lot running so he didn't have to waste time, his watch on his wrist feels heavy, the scent of obsession overpowering. but he can't make himself move. he wants to stay and talk to eddie, wants to learn about what makes him tick.

"can i borrow your phone?" steve asks. eddie's eyebrows furrow but he reaches for the store phone and places the console on top of the counter.

"for what?"

steve look through his wallet, finding the piece of paper with linda's number on it. holding the receiver between his shoulder and ear, he dials in her number and holds his pointer finger up at eddie, signaling that he'll need a second. steve then brings the finger to his lips and shushes with his cheek pulling up in a smirk. eddie's eyes zero in on the motion and it feels like steve's gone from being the canary back to the cat.

"linda? hey it's steve."

he watches as eddie mouths steve back at him and then nods to himself when he gets the confirmation that it is indeed his name. steve throws him a wink for good measure.

"i know i'm late and i'm really really sorry to cancel last minute but-. oh. yeah, sure. have a good time. okay bye li-."

on the other end of the line, linda slams down the phone without waiting for steve to finish talking and it makes him wince with how loud it is in his ear. he gives eddie a sheepish smile, all toothy and guilt-ridden, and gently puts the receiver back down.

"what was that?" eddie asks with a disbelieving look on his face. steve shrugs.

"she got tired of waiting so she already had another guy lined up to come pick her up."

eddie sucks in air through his teeth and mimes getting shot in the heart. it has steve laughing as he falls over on the counter, hair covering his face. he turns his head to peer up at steve through the curtain of curls, the one brown eye that's visible twinkling in the harsh overhead light.

"was it true love? are you just absolutely heartbroken?"

steve thinks about it for less than a second. watches how eddie curls back up one vertebrae at a time before placing his elbows on the counter and leaning over. watches how eddie's eyes flit between his own and his lips. watches how he focuses on the latter for a little while too long.

"why would i be heartbroken," steve starts. he's being too forward, too brash, but with eddie looking at him that way, he knows he can be. "when you'll probably be on break soon and can make it up to me? you know, for making me even more late and all."

eddie's grin grows wide again. "oh really?"

steve shrugs once more with a playful look of consideration on his face, resting on his elbows to match eddie on the counter. "yes, really. this is your payback for being bored and taking it out on me."

it's later when eddie's on break and steve hasn't left the drugstore in over an hour and they're sitting in his car with bowie playing through the speakers that eddie looks up at him with a look steve knows well.

"you do smell really good, y'know." his voice is softer than steve's heard it all day.

"so are you glad i came in to steal cologne?" steve leans closer over the center console to get into eddie's personal space. there's a hand curling over his bicep and pulling him even closer, their faces only centimeters apart.

"i guess i'll let it slide this time, thief."

and when they kiss for the first time, it tastes like the freshen-up gum they both had been nonstop chewing ever since steve paid for it.

[storiesforallfandoms]

shared trauma ~ logan howlett; marvel

word count: 3466

request?: no

description: in which she sneaks away to help them return home, and ends up bonding with the brute with knives in his hands

pairing: logan howlett x female!reader

warnings: swearing, some deadpool & wolverine spoilers, trauma bonding, wade wilson being wade wilson, a good ending

masterlist (one, two, three)

Getting out of Cassandra's compound wasn't as hard as the Others thought. Not when you shut up and played by her rules. She trusted everyone who worked under her enough to let us come and go as we pleased, mainly because she knew we were scared enough of Alioth to come back and be under her control.

The Others also weren't as hidden as they thought. At least, not from me. Lucky for them, I was the only telepath in Cassandra's army, because Johnny's mind gave away everything about the Others without even knowing I could hear him.

When it got dark and mostly everyone had turned in, I snuck out of the compound. I could see the hiding place of the Others in my head, and I knew it would take me a long time to get there on foot, but I needed to get there. There was something about these variants - this Deadpool and this Wolverine - that was different. They may be the key to my freedom from Cassandra. Maybe to all of our freedoms.

I travelled for so long that my legs burned and I felt like I was going to pass out, but I got there. Immediately I was hit with the sounds of several brains, all thinking about a plan to take down Cassandra. All except one, but it was hard to make out what was going on in that head over the wounds of everyone else. I pushed into the place, a silence falling over the room as they heard me enter. I winced with every step I took down the stairs. When I appeared in the doorway, I was greeted by a barrage of weapons.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed, putting my hands up.

"You're one of hers," Blade stated.

"I came alone," I insisted. "I...technically snuck out."

"How did you find us?" Elektra asked.

"Let's just say Johnny Storm's mind was just as loud as his mouth. Look, I'm not here to hurt you guys. I'm here because I think those two - " I nodded to Deadpool and Wolverine " - may be who we need to take Cassandra down."

"And why would you want to take down Cassandra?" Blade questioned. "She's your leader."

"Not by choice. I followed her because I knew it meant survival. But I'm telling you, I see something with those two. I'm clairvoyant as well as a telepath, and when those variants were with Cassandra I could see a fight that ended with her downfall."

The group shared a look. Well, all besides the Wolverine, who was halfway through a bottle of whiskey. He seemed to be ignoring everything going on. I realized his mind was the one I couldn't hear. It was almost like he was trying to block out any thoughts. Not because of me, but because he didn't want to have to think those things.

"We could use a clairvoyant," Elektra pointed out.

"This reading you got form us," Deadpool said. "Did you see all of us winning?"

I shook my head. "It doesn't work like that. Some scenarios aren't definitive, and some are. I saw that we'd fight her, but after that there's a number of different ways it could go. All I saw for sure was that Cassandra was taken down and everyone in the Void was finally free from her reign."

"Sounds like a shit power," Wolverine muttered.

"She could tell us how to avoid the bad paths," Elektra said.

My legs were starting to ache in a way I couldn't handle for much longer. "Can you guys make a decision soon? I walked all the way here and my legs feel like they're about to snap off."

The group, minus Wolverine, shared another look before X-23 - Laura - nodded and said, "We'll give you a bed. Once you're rested, we'll come up with a plan."

~~~~~~

I laid awake that night while everyone else was asleep. We had come up with a plan to attack Cassandra's compound, one that should be mostly successful for everyone if the input from my visions helped at all. Everyone else had gone to bed with hope of a successful mission at sunrise, but I was wide awake with thoughts of going against Cassandra. Unlike everyone else, I had been part of Cassandra's team for a very long time. I had seen the things she did to people who opposed her. Despite the fact that my visions should give us a leg up in this fight, I was still scared of the consequences if we lost.

There was a stir in the air that told me someone was awake. I heard movement and the sound of a glass bottle being picked up. Logan didn't notice as I rolled over to face him. He was already walking up the steps and out of the hideout. It took me all of ten seconds to decide to follow him. This Wolverine may have been a grumpy Gus, but trying to speak with him would be way better than laying in the silent room struggling to sleep.

I followed him into the woods, where he had already started a small fire. He was sat next to it, hunched over with a bottle of Gambit's whiskey. I was shocked there was any whiskey left at this point, but who was I to judge someone else's coping mechanism.

His back straightened when he heard me approaching. "I don't want company."

"Good thing I'm not here to keep you company," I said, sitting next to him but keeping enough space between us. "I'm here to see if you'll share the liquor you're stealing."

To my surprise, he willingly gave me the bottle without hesitation. I took a big mouthful, which proved to be a bad idea when the harsh liquid burned my throat. I winced at the burn and gagged once I had it swallowed. Logan let out a low chuckle. "Not your usual drink of choice, huh?"

"Actually, I've never drank," I responded, passing the bottle back to him. "I was pruned before I was legal drinking age, and Cassandra doesn't have alcohol at her base."

"You nervous to fight your boss tomorrow?"

"She's not my boss. I'm not part of her team by choice. I already said that. You saw Alioth, you saw what he can do. I was young, I was scared, and she promised to keep me safe."

There was a pause. I wouldn't look at him. I knew coming here was a risk. I knew they wouldn't completely trust me. I just wished they would understand I only sided with Cassandra to stay safe and alive.

Logan broke the silence when he asked, "How young?"

"What?"

"You said you were young, below the legal drinking age. How young?"

"I was a teenager," I responded. "Mid-teens, I think."

"What does a teenager do to get themselves sent to this hell hole?"

I shifted in my seat. No one had ever asked me my backstory before, so I never had to reveal what I was most ashamed to admit. "Do you have Hydra in your universe?"

He nodded. I sighed and said, "My parents...they worked for Hydra. They...they let those Hydra scientists experiment on me. Trying to recreate something as powerful as the serum that created Captain America. Except, instead of making me super strong, it gave me the ability to read minds and see the future. Weirdly enough, the TVA doesn't like anyone that can change the future."

"They didn't get you to join them? Seems like your powers would've been perfect for a time variance agency."

I chuckled humorlessly. "That's not how the TVA works."

"You were a kid."

"That's not how the TVA works."

When he didn't respond, I found myself becoming aware of the silence. Like, of the actual silence. I couldn't hear a single thing Logan was thinking. No one could truly block me out. At least, no one I had met. Not even Cassandra could keep me out completely. I looked over at Logan, trying to focus on him, but still I couldn't hear anything.

"I don't like people poking around in my brain, bub."

I smiled a little. "I can't help it usually, but your brain is weirdly silent. No thoughts, Wolvie?"

"They're none of your business."

I left it at that. Despite my abilities, I wasn't one to pry into other people's thoughts. I heard things by accident, but I wasn't searching through people's heads for their trauma. Actually, it was nice to not have Logan's voice in my head. It was true silence that I had not had in years.

"Are you really not coming with us?" I asked him.

"I'm not a hero," he responded.

"You sure about that?" I eyed his yellow suit. "It's not about being a hero, though. It's about going home."

"There is no home for me to go back to."

His mental walls cracked for just a moment then. I could hear something coming from his mind; the faint calling of his name. No, not calling. Screaming. It was multiple voices, but it was just a faint whisper to me. At the same time, an image came through in his mind. It was a woman with red hair and brown eyes. We didn't have any variants of her come through the Void before, but I had recognized her from the minds of other X-Men who I had crossed paths with: Jean Grey.

Just as quickly as those thoughts slipped out, Logan managed to pull them back in. I wasn't sure if he was hiding them from me or from himself, but either way they were gone. I could tell from the look on his face that he knew I had heard something, and he was not very happy that I had.

"You don't have to tell me," I said, my voice soft. "Or...or show me. But whatever it is going on that has you like this, I'm sorry it happened."

His face was hard as stone, but I could see in his eyes that there was a flux of emotions.

"I lost people," he admitted. "Everyone I loved in my universe. It was my fault and...I just couldn't live with that. I did things...things I regret. Things that could never bring those people back."

"You could be reunited with them in another universe."

He shook his head. "It won't be the same. Every other universe already has a Wolverine. The only one that doesn't is the Mouth's, and that's because he died. I couldn't go back there and put them through seeing me and opening up old wounds. Besides, I don't think I could see them again either. Too much guilt."

I could see Jean's face again, just for a moment, before she was gone again. I could feel Logan's grief; his guilt. The more he opened up, the more his mind became easier to read.

I moved closer to him. Not by much, just an inch to test the waters. When he didn't react, I moved closer again until the space between us was almost completely closed. He looked up at me, but for once he didn't have that scowl on his face. He looked curious by my actions more than anything. I didn't try to push his boundaries any further than just being close to him.

"Good people do bad things sometimes," I told him. "It doesn't make you a bad person."

"I'm no hero, kid," he pointed out.

I shrugged. "Neither am I. None of us are here. But that doesn't mean you can't become a hero."

I wasn't sure if it was the whiskey, the fire, or just how close I was to Logan, but I felt a rush of heat washing over my body. I knew I was definitely feel the effects of the alcohol because I was swaying involuntarily. I started to lean in closer to him, but tried to stop myself as best I could. He seemed amused by it, at least, which made me smile more.

I let out a yawn and stood. I stumbled a little, causing Logan to reach out for me to steady me.

"Are you gonna be able to get back on your own?" he asked.

"I think so, but if you see me passed out along the way do me a favor and carry me back," I said. He chuckled and I tried not to beam too much about it.

I started to walk away, or more like stumble I guess, when Logan called, "Did you see me there tomorrow? In your visions?"

I turned back to him and responded, "Maybe. You'll figure that out tomorrow."

~~~~~~

Good news is, the battle at Cassandra's hideout went well. We took down every one of her cronies, and when Cassandra had left with the army of Deadpools to go to Deadpool-10005's universe, we commandeered her place to keep us safe from Alioth.

Bad news is, Wolverine and Deadpool got out, but the rest of us didn't.

No one really seemed upset over that fact. I mean, besides Laura, who was already missing the variant of Logan ("He may not have been my dad, but he was a version of dad," she had said when she realized he had left without her). Blade, Elektra, and Gambit were more proud of themselves for saving the day, even if it meant not going back to their own realities. I guess I was happy to no longer be under Cassandra's control, too, but I found myself wishing I could've left this place too.

And I found myself dreaming about Logan.

Well, partially dreaming. Some of them were visions.

It's not hard to differentiate between dreams and visions. I don't often get visions when I sleep, but when I do I can feel that they're visions. It's hard to explain other than that. Some nights I found myself dreaming of us by the fire again, except this time I allowed myself to get close enough to Logan to touch him. It very rarely went further than my shoulder against his, sometimes my head against his shoulder. But the visions I had were us together in an apartment I didn't recognize. At first they were all the same - me, Logan, and Wade living domestically in some apartment in New York. Laura was there once too, but only one time.

But then once the vision ended with Logan's arm around my waist and his lips against my forehead. I had woken up with a start before anything else happened.

It was the only vision that showed me with him romantically, but I knew deep down inside of me that that's what I wanted. I mean, Logan is an attractive man. No one could deny that. I may have only known one version of him briefly, but still it was enough to leave me longing for his presence again.

It was just another new normal day in the compound previously owned by Cassandra - I was in my own room reading one of the few books Cassandra had somehow found and kept - when an orange door shaped portal opened. I recognized it as a TVA portal. I sat up quickly, my guard high as I waited for a TVA agent to walk through.

But it wasn't an agent.

It was Logan.

"Come on, kid," he told me. "I'm taking you home."

He didn't have to tell me twice. I was up off my bed and through the portal. I expected to be brought to the TVA first, but I was surprised to find myself in a small apartment.

The apartment from my visions.

I looked around, taking in every detail of the place that I had already seen in my head before. Everything was there, from the pictures to the crude drawings Wade had stuck to the fridge, to the mattress in the middle of the living room where Logan slept. Everything from my visions.

"This..." I said, but paused before I finished the sentence. Did I tell him I had been seeing this place? Did I tell him that I had been seeing us?

When I didn't say anything further, Logan said, "I know it's not your home. But...I wasn't sure if you'd want to go back there."

"I don't," I said quickly. And it was true, I never wanted to go back there. After what my parents had done to me, it was almost a blessing to be sent to the Void. Besides being forced to do Cassandra's bidding.

Logan nodded. "Okay. So...well...welcome. You can stay here as long as you want. It'll take some time to get used to actual society again, I'd assume. The Mouth lives here too - "

As if on cue, the front door opened and there stood Wade, being followed by the mut I once knew as Dogpool.

"Ah! You got the girl!" he said, ushering the dog into the apartment and kicking the door shut behind him. "Finally, he can shut up about seeing you again."

Logan's face turned a shade of red I never expected to see from The Wolverine. "Wade, shut the fuck up."

"What? I'm just saying you've been brooding around this place for ages because we had to leave her behind. You finally have her back. Oh, and Laura! You guys can be one big, happy, fucked up family."

I looked over at Logan. "Laura's here?"

"Not staying with us, but she is in this universe," Logan said. "The TVA agreed to let us save you guys from the Void. Gambit, Elektra, and Blade are all gone back to their own universes now."

"Hopefully one where Gambit can find a better dialect coach," Wade added. "And you get to stay here with us! Isn't that just great? You get to share a bed with Wolvie."

"Only if you're comfortable with that," Logan quickly added, shooting another glare at Wade.

"Of course she'll be fine with that. Better than sharing a bed with Blind Al. Actually, can we switch? I'd much rather cuddle up to the greatest showman."

Logan raised a fist to Wade and unsheathed his claws. It was enough for Wade to finally stop running his mouth and scurry off to his room, the dog following closely behind him. Logan pulled his claws back in and let out a long sigh.

"I'm sorry, I know this is a lot to take in at once," he said. "It's a lot of explaining."

"I can figure it out, I'm sure," I said. "Thank you for saving me."

"I should be thanking you."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "I didn't do anything."

"After our talk by the fire, I realized you were right. I was letting the shit I did get to me for too long. I forgot who I was, or who Charles wanted me to be. I just needed a little push from a different mind reader."

I smiled at him. "You just needed someone to tell you you're not a bad person. It's insane to me that no one had done that before I did. Just cause you did bad things didn't mean you were ever a bad person."

There was a pause, then suddenly I was being pulled towards him. Before my mind could comprehend what was happening, Logan's lips were against mine. His hands were holding my face, holding me to him. It took my brain a few seconds to register what was going on before my hands were reaching for his shirt, holding him as well.

Our moment was swiftly interrupted by a familiar merc exclaiming, "Finally!"

Logan pulled away from me to glare at Wade over my shoulder. I heard the bedroom door slam shut again.

He looked down at me. "I'm sorry that you will have to put up with that."

I giggled. "I guess it's a small price to pay if it means I get to kiss you more."

His smile was so beautiful. It really brightened his face after all the brooding and scowling I had seen him doing before. "I'll kiss you as much as you want, bub. Just gotta make sure Wade is locked away in his room if you want it to be any more than kissing."

"Awe, no fair!" came Wade's voice.

Logan and I shared a look before Logan said, "Maybe we start looking for an apartment of our own."

The suggestion caused my mind to fill with another vision: Logan and I in a small place similar to this one, but one that was just our own. The two of us tangled in sheets, completely naked, with the glow of the sunrise spiling through the blinds onto us.

I smiled, both at the vision and at Logan. "I would love that."

[misserabella]

the farmer’s daughter

dbsf! abby x fem! reader

summary; abby knew it was wrong to like you. you were her best friend’s daughter. but she couldn’t help it.

cw; +18 minors dni!, reader isn’t shy!!!, nudity, body worshipping, kissing, begging, tit and nipple play, oral sex (r receiving), praise, use of nicknames instead of y/n, hair pulling…

she knows she shouldn’t. you’re her best friend’s daughter. but she couldn’t help herself.

it was a hot july afternoon. the sun was bathing her freckled skin and broad exposed shoulders. sweat was running down her face in salty droplets that she swiped away before they could reach her sky blue eyes.

she had been helping her best friend for hours on his farm, soiling the ground for the autumn and helping him out with some oil and tire changes for his truck.

“some lemonade?”

and there you were. in your denim short jumpsuit with just a mere bikini underneath. you were a sight for sore eyes. with tanned skin exposed for her hungry ones.

“thanks honey.” you father gave you a smile as he took one of the glasses being offered, gulping down the sweet iced lemonade.

“thanks.” abby said, taking the other, and you gave her a nectar grin.

“i’m going to the lake for a little bit with laura.” you informed your father, who nodded.

“okay, you two be careful out there, yeah? don’t wantcha drowning.” he ordered in his deep accent. you snickered.

“i would never.” you gave her a soft kiss on his sweaty cheek. “good luck with your truck!” you quickly waved as you ran towards the field, where your friend was waiting for you, towels in hand.

abby watched you go, your beautiful hair waving against the wind and shining under the sun. what she’d do for a kiss of your lips…

“sweet isn’t it?” you father inquired, tasting the lemonade you’d made for them, although abby was not really thinking about the lemonade when she answered.

“yeah. real sweet.”

-

when you got back to your house, your father was nowhere to be seen.

abby was in the kitchen, drinking a cold beer to fight the warmth of the summer.

you were dripping wet, your clothes and towel hanging on your arm as your drenched hair let droplets fall onto the skin of your chest.

“where’s dad?” you inquired, leaving your things on the kitchen table and opening the fridge, bending over to retrieve some lemonade.

“went out to the market. said he needed to buy some stuff.” she said, her eyes roaming your body; the arch of your back, the nipples poking through the top of your bikini, your perfect little ass… abby gulped down another mouthful of her beer, feeling the heat of the summer on her throat.

you hummed. “probably ingredients for dinner. he’s been craving my meatloaf.” you smiled at her, jar in hand.

you took a glass and poured some of the lemonade in it, hurriedly gulping it down in a frenzy. desperate.

abby seemed amused. “thirsty?” you hummed, finishing down your drink and spilling some of it down your chest. if your skin would be sweet before, now it could make her teeth rot.

“it’s so hot outside.” you gasped. abby’s eyes followed the droplets as they found your cleavage.

she shook her head, taking a cloth from the counter to walk over you and press it against your chest. “so clumsy…” you looked up at her, into her ocean eyes, feeling your heart beat faster at her closeness. abigail anderson, your father’s best friends since you could remember. 6,3ft of pure muscle and inches of blonde braided hair that reminded you of the wheat your father reaped. she was strong, kind, intelligent and really, really attractive. your eyes roamed her face, the scar on her left cheek, the little freckles that have shown on her nose due to the sun, her long eyelashes, her supple pink lips…

“sorry…” you muttered, unconsciously biting on your bottom one. her eyes followed the motion, quickly returning to your eyes.

she pulled away, clearing her throat. “you’re drenched.” she said. “your father would kill you if he saw you wetting the floor.” you chuckled.

“you’re right.” and that’s when a glorious idea came to your mind. you turned around pulling your hair to your front to expose the laces of your neck and back. “do you mind?” you looked over your shoulder at her, and abby frowned. before she realized what you wanted her to do.

“oh… sure.” she said with a cough, coming up from behind you. you felt your skin rose in goosebumps when her fingertips graced your skin, holding onto the strings of the bow of your back before slowly pulling. she gulped. slowly undoing it. you took a deep breath, standing still, your heart deafening. once it’s strings were hanging by your sides, abby slowly moved to the one surrounding your neck. the time she took to get it undone seemed to stretch out. abby’s tongue wetted her lips. she could feel her stomach churning, her hands shaking. you felt the top fall. you didn’t even bother to catch it, letting it slide down your navel, exposing your supple breasts and perky nipples.

you slowly turned once again, the piece of clothing abandoned at your feet. and abby felt like she couldn’t breath, faced with your nudity. with your beautiful exposed skin. your cheeks were reddish under her gaze. you felt small and delicate under it. as if you could break. maybe you wanted it.

“what are you doing?” she breathed out, her throat dry.

“you don’t like it?” you muttered, and she quickly let you know it was nothing like that.

“no, no… it’s just…” she sighed. “you shouldn’t be… we shouldn’t be…” but again, you were looking at her with those pretty doe eyes, offering yourself in a silver platter for her to devour. and abby was a weak woman. “fuck it.” she growled, shortening the distance that stood between the two of, cupping your plush cheeks with her warm hands to bring your lips to hers. it was devastating. how they felt. soft. sweet and sour.

you hummed, your back arching against her as you got on your tiptoes to reach her lips. she tasted like beer, and cigarettes, salty due to the sweat that coated her skin. fresh pines engulfed your senses as you pulled on her braided locks. her tongue pressed against your lips in invitation, and you opened up for her, moaning on her mouth. she pressed against you until you were against the kitchen counter, her hands leaving your face to slowly drift down your neck to your shoulders, elbows, hips, and lastly your thighs, pulling you up the cold surface. you gasped as it made contact with your skin. or maybe it was her hands on your waist, the same hands that now were hungrily kneading at your breasts, fingers tweaking your hardened nipples. you whimpered when she left your lips, her mouth leaving wet kisses down your neck.

“abby…” you breathed out, her name tasting like honey on your lips. “please.” it was as if your words had power over her, one simple plea and she was down on her knees for you, dying to worship you like some kind of god. you stared at her from above, as she looked at you through her blonde lashes. her hands were on top of your thighs, shaking in need to touch you in places no one has ever touched you before.

you opened your legs for her. a silent invitation as your hands went to the strings of your bikini bottom, pulling at the laces on your hips until it was loose, barely hiding you from her. but not for long, ‘cause you were pulling at the piece of clothing to drop it on the floor, where your top laid.

“fuck…” the blonde cursed at the sight of you, at the sight of your sticky folds, exposed twitching leaking hole and your puffy reddish clit. the next curse that filled the air came from your lips as her own wrapped around that throbbing bundle of nerves, her hands pushing your thighs over her strong exposed shoulders for a better angel.

“shit, abby… yes, just like that, please…” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your jaw falling slack as a pant left your lungs. her tongue was hungrily lapping at your slick, she was starved, yet slow. she wanted this moment to last, maybe for ever. your fingers pushed in between her golden locks, tugging her closer and making her groan.

“ hmm god.” she hummed. “taste so good, baby…” there were fireworks behind your eyelids as your back arched. this was heaven, and you were a sinner for wanting her this bad. abby didn’t mind being one too.

you’re sweet as honey as you drip down her chin, as one of her fingers sink inside of you and you let out this moan that makes her believe you’re certainly an angel if not a god. something holy you must be. for her to push aside the guilt that making you hers brings down her shoulders, that sinks her down to her knees and makes her forget the fact that you’re her best friend’s daughter.

she crooks it up against your g spot, and the fireworks turn into stars.

abby feels like she’s been locked out of heaven for so long… but now, in between your legs, hearing you moan her name, she feels blessed, pure.

she adds another finger, and the stretch makes you cry out as she sucks on your clit. you’re close. and she knows.

“abby, i’m gonna… please don’t stop, please…”

and even if she wanted, she couldn’t. she wouldn’t. not when you beg her. when you plead so sweetly it’s making her rot.

“cum for me, honey. cum for me.” she looks drunk on you, pupils blown, lose strands of her hair sticking to her forehead and lips swollen and shiny on your slick.

and something you do is give it to her. in between moans and cries and whimpers you spill inside her mouth, body shaking in ecstasy.

and abby drinks it all up. scared. terrified. terrified that this would be the last time she will get to taste something as holy as you.

-

a/n; this does not mean my hiatus is over. i just wanted to post something. hope you like it.

[bratscave]

IN ANOTHER LIFE !

summary. falling in love with an old! driver, who's name was james while you were still in college was one thing — but finding out that he was wolverine after his death and meeting another version of him, was another.

includes/warnings. chapter two yay :), lots of flashbacks (omg they were so in love it hurts so bad), sex implied / lightly described once, she finds out about his death :/, laura!

Logan, as you knew him back then, liked to take walks with you. He just knocked on your door, hands stuffed into his jacket pocket, stayed silent and waited for you to gather your stuff to go outside. Didn't really talk much during it either, he'd rather listen to you, always.

And when you reached out for his hand, he didn't say anything, just let you. You'd sit down on bench and talk about the current drama going on with your friends and he'd smoke a cig and nod along. It wasn't much but it was comfortable.

You liked looking at sunsets, the pastels when it was late noon, various shades of yellow, orange and red. He wasn't the type of man who admired sunsets — at least, not before you.

You weren’t sure when it had happened, but at some point, Logan had started staying the night. It was never planned — he’d just show up after dark, looking more worn out than usual, and before you knew it, he was in your bed, holding you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

One of those nights, you were lying in bed, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His hand was in your hair, his fingers lazily combing through the strands as you traced patterns on his skin with your fingertips.

“Tell me something,” you said softly, your voice barely breaking the quiet. “Something I don’t know about you.”

Logan was silent for a long moment, his hand stilling in your hair. You could feel the tension in him, the way his muscles tightened beneath your touch.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he muttered, his voice rough, like it hurt to say the words.

You lifted your head, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him. His face was in shadow, but you could still see the hard lines of his jaw, the weight he carried. “I know,” you whispered, your heart aching for him. “But I want to.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “You don’t wanna know,” he said quietly. “Trust me.”

You frowned, but you didn’t push. You never did.

Instead, you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, your lips brushing against the scruff of his beard. “I’m not goin’ anywhere,” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

And you stayed true to your words, you didn't go anywhere. You stayed waiting for him, waiting for him when you found a small sticky note saying 'I'll be gone for a little while. Don't worry bout me.' in his usual gruff writing. And you stayed waiting for him, a week and a half, ten days.

And you had hope, fucking hope that it was going to be James, or well as you later found out- logan, behind the door, when it rang at midnight.

Instead you were greeted by a girl, no older then thirteen.

Logan used to like kissing you good night, always came around if he drove by your apartment complax while on his shift because you 'needed to go to bed, well kissed'

Logan used to like having his hand on your thigh when he was driving, he'd rub small circles and patterns over the clothed skin. Sometimes, when you were rambling about something, he’d squeeze it gently, like it was his way of saying he was listening, even when he wasn’t saying a word.

Logan used to wake up before you, his heavy, calloused fingers tracing the curve of your spine, slow and careful, like he didn’t want to wake you but couldn’t help himself from touching you. If you stirred, he’d mutter something gruff under his breath —“go back to sleep, kid”—but there was no missing the warmth in his voice, the tenderness in the way he pulled you closer.

Logan used to make love to you like it was a slow burn, always taking his time, even when he was in a hurry. He’d kiss you deeply, rough hands holding your hips in place as he moved, like he wanted to savor every second. Afterward, you’d lie tangled together in the sheets, your fingers tracing the lines of his body, and he’d grunt something sinful under his breath.

Logan used to bring you coffee on mornings when he had nowhere else to be. He didn’t say much, just handed you the cup with that same gruff expression, watching as you sipped it, his eyes softer than usual. When you’d smile and say thanks, he’d shrug it off like it was no big deal, but you knew better. It was his way of saying he cared.

Logan used to call you late at night, usually after a long shift. His voice would be rough, heavy with exhaustion, but he’d still ask about your day. “Tell me somethin’ good,” he’d mutter, like the sound of your voice was the only thing keeping him grounded. Sometimes, he’d fall asleep with the phone still in his hand, the steady sound of his breathing a quiet comfort on the other end of the line.

"Logan is dead."

The girl's voice got you out of your trance as you looked down to meet her eyes, she had very intense ones, what was such a young child doing out late at night? But you don't question just brush her remark of, "Sorry, I don't know a Logan."

"He said you might say that. I need to tell you something."

You spend the whole night on the coach, the same coach where you and.. logan, shared your first kiss and more. Is now the same coach you sit on and find out that he died. That he was some sort of hero, that he had tried changing his identity.

You cry, ugly ugly tears. A shit ton of them. You try your damn best not to, in front of the kid, laura as you now knew it, but you couldn't keep it in. Logan didn't like it when you cried, said it wouldn't get you nowhere, but rested his hand on your back, going up, down, up, down in the same pattern over n' over again to calm you down, in quiet support no matter what it was.

Now your back was cold.

Time moved like it always does — quickly, harshly, without much care for your grief. Before you knew it, months, years had passed. Laura didn’t leave, and you never asked her to. She stayed, silently adjusting to your small apartment and even smaller routines. You weren’t exactly maternal, but something about her—something in the way she’d sit quietly on the edge of the couch, watching those old cartoons Logan always scoffed at: made you feel less lonely.

She didn’t talk much at first. But you understood. Words weren’t always necessary, and you’d never been one to push someone to speak when they weren’t ready. You learned to share the silence, learned that she needed space just like you did.

Life was different now. You’d finished what you set out to do —graduated, finally became the professional you always wanted to be. Journalism, like you’d always dreamed of, except the joy wasn’t there, not the way it used to be. The thrill of chasing stories and deadlines had dulled, the passion that once fueled you replaced by a quiet, steady determination. You wrote because it was what you were good at. Because it paid the bills. Because it gave Laura stability.

And she needed that. More than anyone, she needed a steady life—a soft place to land, to heal, even if neither of you said it out loud.

Sometimes, when you caught a glimpse of her sitting at the table, head bent over some math homework, you’d see pieces of him in her. The same furrowed brows when she was deep in thought. The quiet way she watched the world, always alert but never speaking too much.

You missed him. It never got easier, not really. When it got really bad, you’d sit in the small kitchen, nursing a drink and staring out the window. You could almost imagine him coming through the door, smelling faintly of motor oil and cigarettes, grumbling about something while he kicked off his boots.

But he never did. And you told yourself you’d learn to live with that.

Well, apperantly life had other plans for you, besides drowning in misery.

It had been late — too late for visitors. The kind of hour where the streets outside your apartment were dark and empty, the faint hum of city life muted through the window. You were pouring yourself another cup of tea, trying to wind down from a long day at work. Laura was in her room, tucked away, buried under her blankets as usual.

A knock came at the door.

It startled you; mostly because no one ever came by this late. You set your mug down and padded across the floor, wondering if maybe Laura had ordered something again, some late-night doordash she hadn’t mentioned.

You opened the door. And froze.

The world felt like it tilted sideways for a moment, because there he was. Logan. He looked different, rougher in a way, a little younger than you’d ever seen him. But those eyes, those same dark, stormy eyes — they were unmistakable.

His voice was rougher, too, when he spoke, like it had been scraped against gravel.

“Wade told me I could find you here.”