#reminded me of that scene in still wakes the deep

[puro134]

You have not fallen far, angel.

[not-neverland06]

you're not her

The 'Worst' Logan x fem!mutant!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eat me-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ominous, but whatever. “Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, look, my favorite fuck buddies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t. Hold. Back.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wade

Did you fuckers have sex???

In my bed!!!!

And you didn’t invite me?!

….

Wade

Tell Logan I want his claws in me next

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

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

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

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

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus ♡

[rqnarok]

old man!logan fucking you with his glasses still on.

cw/tags: smut, mdni! old man!logan. pet names (sweetheart, sugar, etc). slight dumbification. logan calls himself ‘old man’. unprotected p in v. what else? not proofread…

Logan says it’s not his fault.

It’s not him who walks in wearing a new skimpy short sundress while he’s reading today’s newspaper. He isn’t the one who did the teasing by bending over the counter to show him the plump of your ass while you are trying to reach for some ‘ingredients.’

It’s you who pretends to be innocent by humming tunes of your favorite song as you stroll around him with no fucking bra or panties. Casually asking him, “What d’ya want for dinner, Lo?” as if he couldn’t see your peaking nipples through the thin material of the cloth. 

Hell, he did not even understand why you were wearing a sundress at this late hour. No particular reason other than to taunt him—you know that he knows this. 

Only takes him a few minutes before he’s latching to you, still wearing his glasses while bending your upper body onto the kitchen counter, “Little fuckin’ tease. All this shit just f’me, huh?” 

You huff, rolling your eyes to the back of your skull in pleasure when you let yourself be manhandled to the position he wants—spread open; his cock filling your insides so heavenly. 

He hums a throaty sound in your ear, eyes locking to your face to catch your desperate and fucked out expression, “C’mon, princess. Y’were just so confident a minute ago when ya’ teased me.” 

The reminder makes you let out a hiccup, and suddenly feel shy at the intensity of his gaze. Your floral-themed sundress is still on, only hiked up—he wouldn’t let you take it off. After all, its existence is the reason why his large chest is pressed on your back.

“Such a shy doll, arentcha’?” He straightened himself after you tilted your head to the other side—curses when he felt you squeezing your walls tighter around his girth.

Every drag of his cock back into your pussy pushes more and more high-pitched whines from you. Logan rumbles in a pleased groan as he lurks forward again—leaving open-mouthed kisses on your jaw—scratching his scruffy beard on your skin, “Such a good girl. Nothin’ else could make me cum, baby. Nothin’ else but this fuck- tight pussy. What did I do to get so lucky, huh?”

“Ah- Logan!” Your nails scratch the cold marble tile as you feel the world around you change into a warm, fuzzy state. All you could feel was him surrounding you, fastening his already cruel pace.

Your mewls mingle with the thwap-thwap-thwap sounds of skin slappings, its noise radiates obscenity along with the scene it shows.

“Makes me feel guilty as an old man,” Logan shivers, hissing at the warm heat he’s got himself all in, “Fuckin’ a sweet, beautiful thing like ya’.”

Logan slides one of his large palms on the globes of your ass before grabbing them and delivering a soft spank to your skin. Like a wake-up call, you twist your head back slightly to look at the sight of him.

His blue shirt is unbuttoned to down, his eyes closing and brows furrowed as he chases yours and his own ecstasy. You wonder how his glasses still rest on the tip of his nose after everything. 

Maybe because you’re the one moving, not him. His hands grip your waist as he moves you back and forth on his cock. Shifting you around like a flashlight, never pulling out his flaccid member as his cockhead breaches deep into your velvet walls you never knew was even possible, “Jus’ wan’ me to use you around, ‘s that it?” 

You ramble a string of yesyesyes’s as a reply to Logan’s taunts, your head empty and unable to form any thought except of him. “Y-yeah, sugar. I know. I know.” 

As you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer, your hands skulk backward to reach him, to feel him and bring him closer, “Ah- Gimme kiss, pleas—” You squeak after the lingering ah-ah-ahs. 

Good Lord. Logan lets out a dry chuckle to mock at your utter eagerness for him–but in the end, he gives in too. He always gives in. 

His mouth is on yours in a wet kiss, all filthy as he eats up all your whimpers and moans, “Dirty girl. Makin’ me feel s’good.”  

Your legs barely touch the floor as he continues to elevate you up and down in hard thrusts, hitting your sensitive spots, “Shit. Want me to come in you, petal?” His voice a cadence deeper, “Let ya’ feel me for days?” 

You can only reply in erratic nods before shutting your eyes to embrace your own pleasure building, peaking, and—

“F-fuck, sweetheart.” Thick ropes of Logan’s cum are pumped into you as you squirt around him shamelessly—his cock thrusting and thrusting, letting you feel his warmth. 

He begins to slow down his movements as you milk him dry. You whine at the feel of yours and his cum all mixed up, gushing out of your dripping hole. A filthy image. 

“L-Logan...” You can only call out his name after your feet touch the floor, out of breath and still needy. 

As if he understands, Logan rests his head on your neck and leans half of his body weight onto yours out of tiredness, “Mhm. Yeah, gonna fuck you again, sweet girl.” 

His lips locked into yours in urgency, then breaking it just to smile at you while readjusting his glasses, “Let your old man catch his breath first, alright?”

You bob up in down in excitement. 

Logan chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. He knows what he’s getting himself into ever since he knew you—that he has to keep up with your endless immature teasing and your remarkably high stamina.

Even with his muscles weakening and body aching the next day, he thinks it’s all worth it.

[milkoomi]

⋆˚࿔ a new canvas means a new you 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

a mini series on the art of becoming a better you

previous chapter

chapter two — THE ART OF SELF CONFIDENCE

i’ve touched on this topic before, but i wanted to do more of an in-depth deep dive into it! self confidence isn’t just about how you feel about your physical self, but it’s also about how you feel about your mental and emotional self; how you feel about your soul and the aura that surrounds you. self confidence can start at your physical self, like your looks, your style, etc. but reaching a true, deeper meaning of having confidence you have to dig deeper into your mind, heart, and soul.

references on self confidence:

“a guide to building confidence” - by me!

“study yourself to become confident” - thewizardliz

“the ultimate guide to becoming confident” - alessya farrugia

“rewiring your subconscious: guide to becoming your dreamiest self” - @glowettee

“building confidence” - @goddessinnerglow

ᥫ᭡. different types of confidence

in alessya farrguia’s youtube video, she discusses the 3 different types of self confidence: physical, social, and authentic confidence. i highly recommend watching her video! she makes really phenomenal points in her discussion!

i’d like to highlight some key points she made in her video:

physical confidence: “stop comparing your behind the scenes to everyone else’s highlights.”

social confidence: “confidence isn’t thinking ‘i know someone will like me’, it’s ‘i know it won’t bother me if they don’t’.”

authentic confidence: “true confidence means trusting yourself”

but i’d like to add mental & emotional confidence. the mentality that you have and how you feel about yourself plays a huge role in self confidence. having a mindset that makes you feel secure and having emotions toward yourself that are positive will help you become more confident. it also helps, immensely, to be in a headspace that makes you feel comfortable being you, that brings you joy, and that brings you peace. being able to have a good relationship with your own emotions can uplift you!

mental confidence:

destress & decompress — when your mind is weighed down by stress, you start to feel overwhelmed. that overwhelming feeling can cause your mind to break down and make you think that you won’t be capable of recovering from that stress. it’s important to manage your stress and remind yourself that you are capable of overcoming anything that’s causing you those feelings! stress is one of those things that make you feel like everything is impossible, but that’s only a feeling. it’s like having a bad dream, while you’re experiencing that dream it might feel too real and sometimes it may even be scary, but then you wake up and you realize that you’re safe. think of stress as just a bad dream, the feeling is only ever temporary and as soon as you manage it/overcome it you’ll be safe again. and, as a bonus, once you overcome that stress, you feel more secure within yourself and you’re reminded that, yes, everything is going to be okay and you are more than capable of overcoming those feelings!

practice mindfulness within yourself — “mindfulness is the practice of paying attention to the present moment without judgement.” with that being said, practice paying attention to yourself without any judgement. focus on how you’re feeling, what your current thoughts are; focus on you without judging yourself. learn to accept yourself as you are within that present moment and try to steer away from making quick, negative judgements about yourself. yes, you can judge yourself, but do so in a way that’s productive! judge your mental and emotional state, are you in a headspace that is ideal to you? judge your health, do you feel like there needs to be any changes in your lifestyle, diet, or activity level to better your body in a healthy manner? judge yourself, is there anything about yourself that you still need to work on or are there characteristics of yourself that you take pride in?

emotional confidence:

emotional intelligence — this is key to gaining emotional confidence. i recommend this video by The Glow Up Secrets Podcast on youtube! the host brings up so many wonderful and insightful points on becoming emotionally intelligent! being able to self-regulate and to understand exactly what you’re feeling can help you gain confidence in yourself. people will always pride themselves in their intelligence, so let being emotionally intelligent be the intelligence you pride yourself in!

ᥫ᭡. self-acceptance

people have this idea that self-acceptance is just settling for who you are, and well, that’s not really the case— at least in my eyes. learning to accept yourself as you are now will make it easier for you in your self improvement journey. we all want to become the “it-girl/person”, but a lot of us will look for quick fixes or even go towards trying unhealthy habits. allowing yourself to accept who you are right in this moment can be a first step towards becoming the person you strive to be.

accept your insecurities. accept your failures. accept your body as it is right now. accept your faults. then take all of that acceptance and turn it into a learning experience for yourself. learn that your insecurities only become insecurities because of that negative self-talk. learn that you cannot grow without any failures. learn what exactly it is that your body needs to become healthier and better for yourself.

accept yourself, then learn from yourself.

ᥫ᭡. manifestations & affirmations

we can make our dream selves become the reality. there’s so many amazing posts here on tumblr about manifesting, so go look into them! if we believe it, we can have it. you have to believe that you have confidence. you have to affirm yourself that you are confident. people, myself included, talk about “faking it til you make it”, but when you really think about it, the more you repeat these manifestations and affirmations the more it starts to feel true and real to yourself.

this also ties into positive self-talk. we have to speak to ourselves kindly, we have to uplift ourselves in a world that brings us down. talk to yourself with grace, gratitude, and genuine appreciation. you have gotten yourself through countless hardships. sure, there were probably people who helped you out on the way, but at the end of it, it was mostly your own doing that got you to a better place. so appreciate and love that about yourself!

grab a journal and write down all your manifestations and affirmations daily. writing it all down is like setting it in stone. be consistent, and soon enough all that you want for yourself— including self confidence— will come into fruition.

ᥫ᭡. take pride

think of it this way: no one can be you. people can try to imitate you, but they can never truly be you. take pride in how you look because no one has features like yours, take pride in your work because no one worked the way you did, take pride in your accomplishments because no one worked in the same way that you did to achieve those things; take pride in yourself. as cheesy and cliché as it all sounds, there’s literally no one else who is like you.

ᥫ᭡. find a deeper understanding for yourself

this point is heavily inspired by thewizardliz’s video “study yourself to become confident” (linked in the beginning of the chapter). i just want to reiterate her points and expand on them a little bit! her beginning statement includes: “once you know who you are, no one can tell you anything”.

i feel like we all understand ourselves to a certain degree. but understanding yourself on a deeper, more personal level will allow you to truly feel confident. in her video, liz talks about understanding and even studying ourselves to understand what we like/dislike, what we accept/don’t accept, etc. and i genuinely feel like she brings up a really great point in doing so!

we, as humans, feel like we know what we want for ourselves rather than actually knowing what we want for ourselves. we feel like certain people bring us joy, we feel like certain hobbies make us happy, we feel like we understand ourselves. but, in reality, most times we don’t actually know those things about ourselves.

people we surround ourselves with

we think that certain friends/partners bring us joy because we’re taught, sometimes unintentionally, to allow people to make us feel like we have to conform to them and their wants and needs. we don’t know that some of these people in our lives might actually be bringing us and our confidence down.

hobbies people partake in

we think that doing certain things, like drinking or hook-up culture, make us feel happy or satisfied with ourselves. but we don’t know or we’re not aware of how those hobbies, or even habits, might be destroying us physically, mentally, and even emotionally.

behaviors we accept

we think that if we accept certain behaviors that we’ll get more people to like us or get brownie points with a specific person, but we don’t know that accepting bad/poor behavior diminishes our strength and respect for ourself.

this all takes us back to chapter one: THE ART OF LETTING GO. the toxic people we surround ourselves with unknowingly, the hobbies we take part in unknowingly, the behaviors we accept unknowingly; that all needs to be let go of!

we have to truly understand ourselves and truly know exactly what we want for ourselves to gain the confidence we long for. without knowing yourself, you won’t understand how to find and feel genuine self confidence.

ᥫ᭡. final notes

at a certain point, confidence should feel like it comes naturally, but to even get to that point there’s a lot of work that needs to be put into ourselves. especially when a lot of us start off with almost no confidence at all, it can be extremely challenging to even wake up in the morning and think, “i can do this”. you have to be willing to put in the work for yourself. you have to be willing to have patience with yourself. you have to be willing to advocate for yourself. you have to be willing to do all of this for you, and you alone. you can be confident— and confidence will come to you! you’re more than capable of doing so, babe. believe in yourself like you would believe in someone you love and care for.

with lots of love, juno 🌷

[florawrites-blog]

Shared moments - enhypen

-random moments where you and enhypen show affection to each other

Lee heeseung - 이희승

Scene 1

It had been a long, exhausting day. The tension in the air was palpable as you stood in the dimly lit room, your thoughts racing. Heeseung had been watching you closely, his concern evident in his eyes. Without a word, you suddenly leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a moment of pure impulse.

Heeseung froze, completely taken aback by your unexpected kiss. His breath hitched as he rested his forehead against yours, trying to process what had just happened. His heart pounded in his chest, and he found himself breathing heavily, caught between surprise and a surge of deep affection.

Unable to resist any longer, Heeseung gently cupped your face with both hands, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pulled you closer. This time, it was his turn. He kissed you, softly at first, but with growing passion, pouring all his love into that single, tender moment.

When he finally pulled back, his gaze met yours, filled with warmth and something even deeper. "I wasn't expecting that," he whispered, a soft smile playing on his lips. "But I'm so glad you did."

Scene 2

Heeseung was focused on washing the dishes, humming a soft tune under his breath. The kitchen was quiet, with only the sound of water running and dishes clinking lightly against each other.

You couldn’t resist the playful idea that popped into your mind. Sneaking up behind him, you gently patted him on the hip "thanks baby girl for doing the dishes" . Heeseung froze for a moment, utterly shocked. Then, a burst of laughter escaped him, the kind that filled the entire room with warmth.

He turned to you, still laughing, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Did you really just call me baby girl and patted my ass?" he asked, his voice full of playful disbelief.

You grinned, enjoying the moment. "I did. Just wanted to remind you that you deserve to be treated like royalty too."

Heeseung shook his head, still chuckling, as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "I never know what to expect with you, but I love it."

Park jongseong - 박종성

Scene 1

You were sitting comfortably between Jay's thighs, your back resting against his chest as he gently blow-dried your hair. The warm air felt soothing as it flowed through your damp strands, and the rhythmic sound of the dryer was almost hypnotic.

With your novel open in your lap, you began to read aloud a passage that had caught your attention. “Listen to this,” you said, your voice soft. “The protagonist just found out that the person she’s been searching for her entire life was right beside her all along.”

Jay smiled as he focused on your hair, the warmth of your words and the dryer mixing together. “Sounds like a good twist,” he remarked, his voice filled with interest.

You nodded, continuing to read a little more before pausing to explain the characters and plot twists, sharing your thoughts and predictions. Jay listened attentively, occasionally adding his own comments, even though he wasn’t as familiar with the story.

The cozy moment between you two felt intimate, filled with warmth and shared interests. Jay's gentle care with your hair and his genuine interest in your novel made you feel cherished and understood.

Scene 2

Jay quietly tiptoed into the room, trying not to disturb you as you slept soundly. He leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead before heading out for practice. But just as he was about to pull away, you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, mumbling something incoherent as you pulled him closer.

Jay chuckled softly, trying to disentangle himself without waking you. "Okay, my lady, I need you to let go now," he whispered, but you didn’t budge. "Okay, oh my gosh, let go," he added, more amused than anything.

You mumbled again but remained stubbornly asleep, your grip still firm around his neck. Jay sighed in mock defeat, carefully shifting to make sure you were comfortable before finally managing to extricate himself. He couldn’t help but smile as he left the room, your warmth lingering with him as he headed out.

Sim jaeyun = 심재윤

Scene 1

You slowly stirred awake, feeling the soft cushions of the couch beneath you and the familiar warmth of the blanket draped over your shoulders. But something felt different—there was a heavy weight pressing down on your lower back and hips. Still groggy, you glanced over your shoulder and spotted Jake fast asleep, his arms wrapped around your hips like they were his personal pillow, his face nuzzled into your back.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, feeling a mix of amusement and affection for his clingy antics. With a small sigh, you decided to just let him be, turning your head back and closing your eyes again, drifting back into sleep with the comforting warmth of Jake’s embrace still enveloping you.

Scene 2

Jake woke up at 3 a.m. to an empty bed, his sleepy mind immediately concerned. Groggily, he got up, his messy hair sticking up in all directions as he searched for you. Hearing faint noises from the bathroom, he walked over and stood by the door, rubbing his eyes like a tired child.

When you finally emerged, you were startled to see him waiting there, but before you could react, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. "I'm hungry," he mumbled, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

You gave him the biggest side-eye ever, a mix of exasperation and amusement crossing your face. It was too early for this.

Park sunghoon - 박성훈

Scene 1

The night air was crisp as you and Sunghoon exited the glitzy event. The streetlights flickered softly, casting a warm glow over the bustling city. You took a step and winced—your heel had snapped off, leaving you stranded in your elegant dress.

“Great,” you muttered, looking down at your broken heel.

Sunghoon, always perceptive, noticed immediately. His eyes softened with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Yeah, just a little inconvenience,” you replied, trying to laugh it off.

Without hesitation, Sunghoon crouched down and offered you a hand. “Here, let me help you.”

You hesitated for a moment, but his earnest expression made you relent. He gently lifted you into his arms, cradling you in a bridal carry. Your heart fluttered as you felt his warmth envelop you.

As you both started walking toward the hotel, you couldn’t help but notice the curious glances from passersby. Some people’s eyes widened in surprise, while others grinned at the charming sight. But Sunghoon remained unfazed, his focus solely on making sure you were comfortable.

“I’m really sorry about this,” you said, looking up at him. “I didn’t mean to cause such a scene.”

Sunghoon chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Don’t worry about it. I’m honored to carry you. Besides, it’s kind of nice to be able to take care of you like this.”

His words warmed your heart more than the night air ever could. You nestled closer, enjoying the rare moment of vulnerability and closeness. The city lights seemed to blur as you felt completely at ease in his arms.

When you finally reached the hotel, Sunghoon gently set you down and helped you inside, still carrying that unwavering, protective smile. “Let’s get you settled,” he said, taking your hand.

As you walked toward the elevator, you glanced back at him with a grateful smile. “Thanks for being my knight in shining armor.”

Sunghoon laughed softly, his eyes reflecting the sincerity of his feelings. “Anytime. I’ll always be here for you.”

Scene 2

You were deeply engrossed in building a virtual home for your Sims family, carefully arranging furniture and selecting decor to create the perfect cozy space. The soft hum of your laptop and the occasional click of the mouse were the only sounds filling the room.

Without warning, you felt a light, playful nibble at the back of your neck. You barely flinched, accustomed to Sunghoon’s affectionate antics. He was always finding new ways to make you smile, and tonight was no different.

He settled behind you on the couch, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “What are you up to?” he murmured, his voice low and playful as he placed a gentle trail of kisses along your neck.

You didn’t look away from the screen but smiled softly. “Building our dream home in Sims,” you said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I’m making sure the house has everything we could ever want.”

Sunghoon chuckled, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “I’m glad you’re putting so much thought into it. I bet our Sims are going to have a fantastic life.”

You could feel his affection with every kiss, a soothing presence that added a personal touch to your virtual world. “They definitely will,” you agreed, still focused on perfecting the layout. “I’m even planning a little garden for us.”

His kisses paused for a moment, and he leaned in to rest his chin on your shoulder. “A garden sounds perfect. I can’t wait to see it.”

The tenderness of the moment was palpable, even as you continued to build and create. Sunghoon’s presence behind you was comforting and familiar, making the virtual family you were creating feel even more special.

“You’re the best,” you said, finally turning your head to give him a quick smile.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “And you’re the most amazing Sims architect.”

With one last kiss, he settled into a comfortable silence, enjoying the warmth of the moment as you continued to craft your virtual life together.

Kim sunoo - 김순우

Scene 1

After a full day of cooking, you had fallen asleep at the kitchen table, your head resting on your arms amidst a sea of dishes and the lingering aroma of your efforts. The soft light from the pendant lamps cast a gentle glow over you.

Sunoo entered the kitchen, immediately noticing the mess and, more importantly, you sleeping soundly. His heart melted at the sight. He approached quietly and leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “I love you,” he whispered tenderly.

You stirred slightly, a contented smile touching your lips even in your sleep. Sunoo smiled, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. He carefully draped a soft blanket over you, making sure you were cozy.

With one last affectionate glance, he left the kitchen to tidy up, feeling a deep sense of love and appreciation for the peaceful moment.

Scene 2

You and Sunoo had planned a cozy afternoon together, but Niki and Jungwon suddenly appeared, urgently needing Sunoo’s help with something. As they approached, you stepped in front of Sunoo, arms crossed and a determined expression on your face.

“Hey, he’s my boyfriend, not yours,” you said firmly. “Leave. Him. Alone.”

Sunoo’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked at you. “Yes, yes, you heard her. I’m hers, so leave me alone.”

Niki and Jungwon exchanged exasperated glances and rolled their eyes. “lame loser” Ni-ki said. “well at least we have a life ni-ki.” you said defensive

Jungwon just stood there as he shrugged, clearly unfazed by your protective stance. “Enjoy your sunoo i guess.”

Yang jungwon - 양중원

Scene 1

In the cozy living room, Jungwon playfully teased you, his laughter mingling with the soft glow of the lamps. As you stood near the wall, he gently pressed you against it, his body a warm, teasing presence.

You grinned, seizing the moment. On your tiptoes, you leaned in and stole a quick kiss. Jungwon’s smirk widened as he let you take the lead, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

When you pulled back, one hand resting on his waist and the other on top of your head, he traced every detail of your face with a loving gaze. Without warning, he captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. The intensity made your knees go weak, and you clung to him for support.

Jungwon finally pulled away, his eyes soft and warm. “what happened knees stopped working ,” he murmured with a smirk.

You hid your face in his chest avoiding eye contact . “shut up.”

He chuckled, pulling you into a tight embrace, savoring the tender moment.

Scene 2

In the soft, dim light of the bedroom, you and Jungwon were lounging on the bed, his body comfortably sprawled across your stomach. You were both relaxed, enjoying the quiet moment together.

Suddenly, a loud growl came from your stomach, breaking the tranquility. Jungwon’s head lifted, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Uh-oh,” he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Looks like someone’s hungry. Is that the baby communicating with me?”

Before you could respond, Jungwon’s lips descended on your stomach, planting a flurry of light kisses as if trying to pacify a tiny, imaginary baby. His playful antics made you laugh, the sound bubbling up despite the ticklish sensation.

“Seriously,” he said between kisses, his voice warm and full of affection, “I’m just making sure our little one knows how much I care.”

You chuckled, gently running your fingers through his hair. “If that’s what it takes to keep you entertained, I suppose I’ll let you keep kissing my tummy.”

Jungwon grinned up at you, his eyes filled with adoration. “I’m always happy to entertain you and our little one. Besides, it’s a great excuse for some extra affection.”

With that, he rested his head back on your stomach, the room filled with a comfortable, loving atmosphere as you both settled in for the rest of the evening.

Ni- ki -남편

Scene 1

In the practice room, the sound of music and footsteps echoed off the walls as you walked ahead of Ni-ki. You were focused on reviewing some choreography, and your attention was on perfecting the moves.

Suddenly, you tripped over a stray piece of equipment on the floor, nearly losing your balance. Ni-ki, quick on his feet, reached out and grabbed the back of your shirt, trying to pull you back to safety.

However, in his eagerness to help, Ni-ki lost his own footing. Both of you ended up crashing onto the soft mats with a thud, a tangle of limbs and laughter.

Ni-ki looked up at you with a mischievous grin, still holding onto your shirt. “Well, I didn’t exactly plan for a dramatic fall,” he joked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You laughed, propped up on your elbows. “Thanks for the rescue, even if it didn’t quite work out as planned.”

He helped you up, his grin widening. “Anytime! Maybe next time, we’ll stick to the choreography and avoid the spontaneous gymnastics.”

You both dusted yourselves off and exchanged amused glances. “Agreed. But at least we made practice a bit more entertaining.”

With that, you resumed your practice, the lighthearted mishap adding a touch of fun to your routine.

Scene 2

In the practice room, you were taking a short break while Ni-ki, exhausted from the day's activities, had fallen asleep midway through his meal. He lay sprawled on the floor, a cute pout on his lips as he napped, his half-eaten food beside him.

You gently fed him the last bites, careful not to disturb his peaceful slumber. Just as you were about to finish, Jake entered the room. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening at the sight of Ni-ki’s adorable sleeping face and the way you were tenderly feeding him.

Unable to resist, Jake pulled out his phone and snapped a quick photo, his grin spreading from ear to ear. “This is too cute!” he whispered to himself, then dialed Jay and Heeseung.

A few moments later, Jay and Heeseung arrived, curiosity written all over their faces. Jake, unable to contain his excitement, pointed to Ni-ki. “Look at Ni-ki! He’s totally losing his emoisim, ”

Jay and Heeseung chuckled as they looked over at the scene, their expressions softening at the sight of the sleeping Ni-ki. “yah why does he look so adorable,” Jay said, smiling.

Heeseung nodded in agreement. “He really does.”

Just then, you turned around, having noticed the small commotion. With a playful glare, you smacked the back of Jake’s head. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough fun at Ni-ki’s expense?”

Jake yelped in surprise, rubbing the back of his head. “Hey! I was just sharing the cuteness!”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide your smile. “Well, share a little less next time also its my cuteness i dont like to share it”

Jake, still grinning, nodded sheepishly. “Got it. I’ll make sure to be more discreet.”

[itsnesss]

hi! i read your other works and i LOVE your junho stories! could you write one where reader comes back from the games (maybe everyone voted to leave) and junho has been trying to find them? i love angst but please with a happy ending 🙏🏽

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | angst, emotional turmoil, implied trauma, mentions of running away, themes of guilt and forgiveness, hurt/comfort, fluff ending

word count | 2.1 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You stand in front of your apartment door, breathing heavily. The key trembles slightly between your fingers, and a gust of cold air runs through your body. You've been out longer than you wanted, though the truth is, you still don’t know what to say to him. You don’t know if the words you’ve prepared will be enough. All you have is fear, uncertainty, and a growing sense that you can’t delay this moment any longer.

With one last deep breath, you turn the key and open the door. The familiar smell of the place envelops you, but there’s something different. Something you hadn’t noticed before. A trace of anxiety seems to linger in every corner. The silence of the place surrounds you, and in that instant, everything feels heavier. And there he is. Asleep on the couch. His jacket is wrinkled, his face tired, his hair disheveled, but still as beautiful as ever.

You let out a sigh as you take in the scene. He’s been waiting for you. He’s been looking for you relentlessly. For days, he’s been following your trail, calling your phone, sending messages. But you never answered. You never told him anything. You had left, but you couldn’t tell him the truth. He couldn’t know what had really happened.

You approach slowly, trying not to make a sound. Each step is a small reminder of what you’ve lived through. You sit next to him on the couch, and for a second, you just watch him, his calm breathing and relaxed face. You’d like to think that, in some way, all of this is real, but you know it isn’t. The shadows of what you’ve been through follow you, and the scars of everything you’ve endured are still too fresh.

The sound of your breathing is the only thing you can hear, and that sound seems to make the outside world fade away. The world you once believed in, where everything seemed simple. But now, nothing is as it seems. Everything has changed. Everything inside you has changed.

"Junho..." you whisper softly, not wanting to wake him. But you do. He opens his eyes slowly, confused by the change in the air. His gaze is slightly clouded with sleep, but when he sees you, something in him ignites. Concern begins to settle into his face, displacing the exhaustion.

"Are you... are you okay?" His voice, though raspy, is filled with worry. He immediately sits up, taking your hands in his. His grip is firm but gentle, as if he’s afraid to let you go, as if he fears you might disappear again.

Your eyes drift to the floor for a moment, unable to meet his. It hurts so much to see him like this. You’ve missed him, but the fear of what he might think if he knew the truth about what you experienced in that cursed game is greater than anything else. You don’t want to see him suffer because of you. You can’t.

"I’m sorry..." The anguish is palpable in your tone, but you don’t want to tell him the truth. Not immediately. Not now. The last thing you want is to drag him into your torment.

"I was looking for you everywhere. I didn’t know what had happened to you. I thought... I thought something terrible had happened," he says, his expression a mix of pain and frustration. The worry shines in his eyes. His breathing is uneven, and you realize how much he’s suffered during these days without hearing from you.

The guilt consumes you. Leaving him, making him suffer while you... you were living through an endless nightmare. But the worst part is that you can’t tell him.

"I had... I had some things to take care of," you reply, trying to make your voice sound steady, though inside you’re falling apart. "I didn’t mean to worry you."

A bitter laugh escapes your mouth, as if those words could justify everything you’ve done. He looks at you in disbelief, as if he can’t believe what you’ve just said.

"But I was so scared... why didn’t you tell me anything?" His voice trembles with restrained emotion, a small thread of anguish in his tone. "I looked for you everywhere, sent messages, called you, but... nothing. I didn’t know if I should come find you, if I should keep waiting, or if something terrible had happened—"

You feel like you’re trapped, trapped in a deep pit you don’t know how to climb out of. The truth weighs on you, consumes you, but you can’t tell him.

"I... I’m sorry," you say, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Your hands tremble as they touch his, but somehow, the warmth of his touch comforts you. It’s not enough. It isn’t. But for a second, you feel safe.

Junho stays silent for a moment, watching you. You don’t know what’s going through his mind, but you can see how deeply every word affects him. His face is marked by a mix of frustration, desperation, and pain. But instead of pulling away, he moves even closer, his fingers gently brushing your face. The softness of his touch burns you, and your eyes fill with tears. You sink a little further into that pit. But now, it’s different. You’re not alone anymore.

"Don’t leave me," he whispers, his voice deep, laden with emotion. "No matter what you’ve done, I don’t want to lose you."

And those words pierce your heart like an arrow. Those words are the purest truth you’ve ever heard. But you still feel the weight of what you’ve done, of what you’ve lived through. Of what you’ll never be able to tell him.

"You can’t..." you murmur, your eyes fixed on the floor. "I don’t deserve to be near you..."

Junho takes a step closer to you, his forehead touching yours, the warmth of his body almost merging with yours. He makes you feel a little lighter, as if, for a moment, everything is okay.

"Don’t talk like that," he says softly, but his eyes are filled with pain. "What happened? Why are you so tired? What have you been doing?"

Your eyes fill with tears. In your heart, you know you can never tell him everything that happened. But you also don’t want him to keep suffering because of your absence. Because of what wasn’t. Because of everything you couldn’t avoid.

"It was just... just a rough time, Junho. I don’t want to talk about it now," you say, trembling slightly. You feel his breath near yours, his warmth surrounding you. But inside, you feel broken. What will you tell him? How do you explain everything that happened?

He takes a deep breath, but instead of pressing you, he simply hugs you. His body envelops yours, and he holds you tightly, as if he wants to merge with you, as if he can’t bear the thought of you leaving without a trace. The hug becomes a refuge, a safe place where words don’t matter, where all that’s left is the moment.

"What hurts me the most isn’t not knowing what you did, but how I felt when I thought I’d lost you," he says, his voice breaking. "All I want is for you to be here, with me."

The sound of his voice, filled with such pure emotion, makes you feel something you hadn’t felt in days: peace. Peace amidst chaos.

"I’m here, Junho," you finally say, looking up at him. "I don’t know what else to do, but I want you to forgive me."

He looks at you for a long moment, his eyes so soft they seem to hold everything he feels for you. And in that moment, you know. You don’t need to tell him anything else. It doesn’t matter what happened, what you lived through, what you endured. What matters is what you both have now. And that’s enough.

"I forgive you," he says softly, before moving even closer. His lips meet yours in a tender kiss, full of promises. He holds you as if he’s grateful to have you back, and you do the same, giving him everything you have in that moment.

Love isn’t always easy. It’s not always what we expect. But here, in this small corner of his apartment, under the dim light of the lamps, you know that together, you can face whatever comes.

"Promise me we’ll never be apart again," he murmurs against your lips, smiling softly.

"Promise," you reply, letting the tears fall freely now, unafraid.

And in that instant, all the pain, all the suffering, disappears. It’s just you, Junho, and the warmth of his embrace that makes you feel safe again.

[unabashegirl]

the cover | part 3

Y/N and Harry, lifelong best friends, pretend to be a couple for a family wedding weekend in Edinburgh. As they navigate the event, old feelings resurface, and what starts as an act turns into something real, leading them to confront their true emotions for one another.

Author's note: Hello everyone! i hope you are all doing well and enjoying your weekend. As requested here is the third part of the cover. Remember on Patreon is the longer version of this one shot!

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all of the one shot (+8K) and exclusive scenes, various one shots and much more :)

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Y/N stirred, becoming aware of the quiet stillness—and the comforting warmth of Harry’s body pressed against hers.

His head rested on her chest, curls brushing her collarbone, his arm draped lazily over her waist. Their legs tangled beneath the covers, and Y/N lay frozen, reluctant to disturb the peaceful moment.

She let herself breathe him in, the faint trace of his cologne lingering on his skin. Her lips curved into a small, fleeting smile. For just a second, everything felt perfect.

But the ache in her chest returned, unshakable. She liked him more than she should, more than she dared to admit. And moments like this—so intimate, so tender—were a bittersweet reminder of feelings she feared he’d never return.

Y/N’s throat tightened as she lay there, Harry’s weight warm and solid against her. She fought back the wave of emotions threatening to surface. Moments like this—tangled in bed with him—only reminded her of the lines she could never cross.

Carefully, she began to slip out from under him, untangling her legs and easing toward the edge of the bed. But just as her feet touched the floor, Harry stirred, his voice breaking the morning stillness.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his words heavy with sleep as he sat up, curls a messy halo around his head.

Y/N turned back, caught mid-step, and smiled softly. "Just heading down for breakfast. Didn’t want to wake you."

Harry leaned back against the headboard, a small grin tugging at his lips. "You weren’t sneaking out, were you?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Not sneaking, just giving you a chance to sleep in."

"Not a chance," he muttered, stretching lazily. "What’s the plan today? Something casual, yeah?"

Y/N nodded, brushing off lingering thoughts. "Yeah, just a laid-back family picnic before the rehearsal dinner. Games, food, the usual chaotic fun."

"Games?" Harry's eyes lit up as he sat up fully. "Like rounders or something?"

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "Maybe. Or sack races. My family loves to embarrass themselves, so it’s anyone’s guess."

Harry chuckled, standing to stretch. "I’m in. Let me grab a quick shower, and we’ll head down together."

As he disappeared into the bathroom, Y/N busied herself tidying the room, her mind racing despite the comforting normalcy of their morning. Outside, the countryside stretched peacefully, a stark contrast to her swirling emotions. Tomorrow was the wedding, and after that... things would return to normal. Best friends. Nothing more.

When Harry returned, freshly dressed, Y/N grabbed her outfit and headed to the bathroom. She took a moment to steady herself before slipping into a light, floral dress perfect for the warm day.

It was just another family picnic. She could get through this.

Y/N tied her hair into a loose braid and smoothed down her dress, giving herself a final glance in the mirror. The simplicity of her look felt perfect for the day ahead. With a deep breath, she unlocked the door and stepped out to face Harry.

He looked up from his phone, and his smile widened as his eyes swept over her. "Wow," he said, setting his phone aside. "You look really beautiful."

Her cheeks warmed at his words, but she managed a light laugh. "Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself."

Harry grinned, running a hand through his damp curls. "Gotta keep up with my girlfriend, don’t I?"

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. "Just make sure no one quizzes us on our backstory. I’m terrible at improv."

"Don’t worry," Harry said with a reassuring squeeze of her arm. "We’ve got this."

They headed downstairs together, the morning sun greeting them as they made their way to the garden. The picnic setup was already in full swing, blankets scattered across the lawn and games being arranged.

Y/N’s mother spotted them and waved excitedly. "Y/N! Harry!" she called, hurrying over with a bright smile.

"You two look wonderful," her mother said, her attention quickly shifting to Harry. "I hope you’re ready for a day of family games!"

Harry chuckled, slipping into his competitive role effortlessly. "Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m always up for a good competition.”

Y/N’s mother beamed at Harry’s response as she led them toward the rest of the family. Y/N noticed her cousins sizing Harry up, exchanging whispers.

The picnic was lively, full of food, laughter, and the hum of family chatter. After settling in on a blanket with Harry, the games began, and Y/N’s family went all out. Naturally, Harry was pulled into every game, and Y/N found herself watching him with an amused smile.

The first game was tug-of-war. Y/N was on one team, Harry on the other. He shot her a playful grin as they faced off across the rope.

"You sure you’re ready for this?" he teased.

"I’m not going easy on you just because you’re you," she replied with a playful glint in her eyes.

The game started with teams pulling hard, the rope tugging back and forth. Harry’s team seemed to have the upper hand until Y/N’s team made one last push. Just as Y/N thought they had it, Harry’s team pulled back, sending her tumbling onto the grass. Laughter erupted around them.

Harry immediately dropped the rope and rushed over to help her up. "You alright?" he asked, grinning as he extended his hand.

Y/N took his hand, brushing off her dress. "Yeah, I’m fine," she said, trying to ignore how her pulse quickened when his hand lingered just a little longer than necessary.

Y/N sat off to the side, catching her breath after the chaos of the sack race. The laughter of her family echoed in the background, but her thoughts were miles away, tangled in the way Harry had looked at her earlier, the way his hand had brushed hers, the way she still felt the lingering warmth of his touch. It had all started as a way to keep up the act, but now… it was starting to feel a little too real.

She could see him talking to her aunt and uncle, his smile easy, his voice warm as he charmed everyone around him—just like he always did. But Y/N couldn’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, Harry was starting to see her differently, too.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when Harry wandered over, excusing himself from the conversation. He moved toward her with that familiar lazy smile, the one that always made her stomach flip.

"You okay?" he asked, his tone casual, though there was something soft in his eyes.

Y/N gave him a small smile, trying to mask how much she felt the weight of everything, how much she wished she didn’t have to keep pretending. "Yeah, just thinking," she said, trying to sound light.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "About what?" His voice was quieter now, like he really wanted to know.

"Just… everything, I guess," Y/N answered, shrugging. She didn’t want to dive deeper, didn’t want to complicate things. But the feeling between them? That was a different story. It was complicated. She could feel it in the air, hanging between them like a thick fog.

Harry smiled, giving her a knowing look. "Alright, well, I’ll grab us some drinks. Meet you in a sec."

Y/N nodded, grateful for the quiet escape. But as he walked away, the ache in her chest grew stronger, the unspoken feelings that much harder to ignore.

The rehearsal dinner was under a canopy of twinkling fairy lights, and the air was alive with chatter and clinking glasses. It was a celebration, yes, but for Y/N, it felt like everything shifted the moment Harry stepped out of the car beside her.

He looked incredible. The black suit he wore fit him perfectly—classic yet relaxed in that way that only he could pull off. His tousled curls framed his face in that familiar way, but tonight, with the sharp suit and the way he stood so effortlessly confident, he looked even more magnetic. And Y/N could feel every pair of eyes follow them as they walked in together, but Harry? His attention was entirely on her.

Y/N had chosen a deep burgundy dress, simple but elegant, and she felt, for once, like she had it all together. Her hair was swept into a loose updo, a few soft strands framing her face. But she didn’t notice how stunning she looked. Harry did.

The moment he saw her, his breath caught. She was more than beautiful—she was luminous. Seeing her like this, standing next to him, something clicked in his chest that he wasn’t ready to face. But there it was, undeniable.

"You look absolutely breathtaking tonight," Harry whispered in her ear, his voice low and full of something unspoken.

Her heart fluttered, and she smiled at him, trying to ignore how those words made everything inside her feel… complicated.

The dinner itself was lighthearted, with wine flowing and family members catching up. But Y/N’s cousin Beth, sitting beside them, had been watching them closely all evening. She knew Y/N’s feelings for Harry before any of this started, and now, she was starting to put two and two together.

Finally, as the night wore on, Beth leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You two are really selling this whole ‘couple’ thing," she said, loud enough for the entire table to hear.

Y/N’s face flushed immediately, but before she could say anything, Beth shot her a wicked grin. "But I haven’t seen you kiss yet. I mean, come on—it’s your big debut, and we’re all watching."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and her eyes widened. Kiss? In front of everyone? This wasn’t part of the plan. She hadn’t prepared for this. They hadn’t prepared for this.

But Beth was relentless. "Come on, just a little one," she coaxed, and suddenly, the entire table felt like it was leaning in, eyes fixed on them. Y/N could feel her aunts’ curious stares, her mom’s expectant look, and her cousins’ playful grins. This was just part of the act, right? It was all for show.

Harry turned to her, his gaze soft, searching hers. Then, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he leaned in slowly. "You okay?" he whispered, his voice just for her.

Y/N’s pulse raced, and she could barely nod. But before she could talk herself out of it, Harry cupped her face gently, bringing his lips to hers.

The kiss started soft, tentative. But then, something shifted. As soon as their lips met, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. There was no one else at the table, no teasing family members, just them, caught in the moment. The kiss deepened, and Y/N’s hand found its way to his chest, fingers clutching the fabric of his suit. The air seemed to leave the room, every second of the kiss making her heart race.

She couldn’t believe it was happening—this was her first kiss with Harry, and it felt nothing like she imagined. It was real, raw, and intense in a way she hadn’t let herself dream of. Her heart was pounding, and when they finally pulled apart, breathless, her lips still tingled from the connection.

The table erupted into applause and cheers, but Y/N barely registered it. Her eyes were locked with Harry’s, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. It felt like they had crossed an invisible line, one neither of them were sure they could walk back from.

Harry broke the silence first, his voice low as he cleared his throat. "I think we need a breather." With a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he took her hand and led her away from the table, escaping the sudden rush of attention.

They found a quieter corner, where soft music played in the background. Harry didn’t speak at first, and Y/N wasn’t sure what to say, either. But then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Harry pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist. Without a word, he began to sway gently to the music, as if everything had changed—and neither of them were sure where it would go from here.

It was an old Frank Sinatra song, one Y/N couldn’t quite place, but the melody was soft and romantic. In Harry’s arms, everything else seemed to melt away. He held her close, his chin resting on top of her head, and they swayed together, their movements completely in sync.

Y/N’s heart was still pounding, her mind a whirl of thoughts from the kiss. She couldn’t believe what had just happened—that they had kissed, and it had felt so… right. Harry’s arms tightened around her, pulling her even closer, and she let herself lean into him, her cheek pressed against his chest. For a moment, it was just the two of them, the music, and the soft glow of the room around them.

Neither of them said anything, but there was no need to. In the quiet, in the way their bodies fit so perfectly together, in the gentle caress of Harry’s hand on the small of her back as they moved, Y/N could feel it—something was shifting between them.

Wrapped in this quiet, blissful bubble, neither of them wanted to break the spell. And as the song played on, Y/N realized something: she wasn’t just pretending anymore. The way she felt in Harry’s arms wasn’t an act—it was real. And suddenly, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it hidden.

[teatreeoilll]

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐲 (𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐨 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

˚• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • .

w/c - 0.6k content - MDNI! 18 + ! fem!reader, porn, sub!Choso, lil crack at the end because hehe, quick drabble because this anemic man is really too cute ahh

• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . °

You were gorgeous and naked, letting out loud, lewd moans on top of Choso so shamelessly he thought he was going to empty himself inside you each time you lowered yourself teasingly slow on his sensitive cock. He couldn't remember how you ended up on top of him - but he was so desperate to keep it going that he dug his fingers deep into your thighs as he groaned, "Fuck, like that - Fu - ck, please don't stop - "

"Hmm?" You halted your movements, grinding against his groin one last time before bending down to face his crimson-colored features as you murmured with a devilish smirk, "What is it, Cho?"

"Don't - ah - " He bit his lip, his eyes fixed on the way his cock disappeared into your body, "Don't stop." His hands reached to grab your waist as he desperately tried to lift you up again, "Please."

You placed a finger on his lips, gliding it softly against them to release his bottom lip from the grip of his teeth, "You'll hurt yourself if you do that," you breathed into his ear, "I said I'd go slow so that wouldn't happen, right?"

He twitched inside you at the sweet tone of your words, pushing his hips up, but straddled by your weight, it was barely the friction he was looking for, "Please," he choked out again, "let me - "

"M-mm," You shook your head, running your fingers soothingly through his hair, "will you be a good boy?"

He could barely speak, his glazed eyes locking themselves with yours, "I - will - " he rasped out as you lifted your hips up to sink down on his cock again, "Just - shit - " he groaned when you resumed your pace, clenching against his cock like you were trying to milk him for all he was worth, digging your fingers deep into his chest.

"Will you be a good boy for me, Cho?" You repeated, biting back your moans, "Say it," you breathed, your voice mixing with the squelching sounds filling the room, "Say it for me, Cho,"

Choso was dizzy. The heat spreading under his skin threatened to burn holes through his body the more you raised and lowered your hips. He relished in the bounce of your breasts and the little beads of sweat forming on your forehead, a reminder of how hard you worked to make him feel so good, "I'm - fuck," he panted, "I'm your good - "

-

"Wake up," Yuji rasped, still trying to blink the sleep off of his eyes as he furrowed his brows, hovering over Choso's flushed face, "nightmares again?"

It took Choso a moment to release the iron grasp he had on the sheets, still getting accustomed to the sudden silence of the bedroom, "I - uh - brother," he muttered, his mind still plagued with your image. No matter how hard he tried, every time he blinked, the same scene appeared in his mind. It couldn't be, could it?

Yuji's expression grew more worried the longer he didn't get an answer, "That bad?"

Choso straightened up in his bed, "I keep seeing her."

"Seeing who?" Yuji puzzled.

"(Y/N)," Choso uttered, his expression turning solemn, "Is she our sister?"

"Huh? Why do you keep thinking everyone's related to you?" Yuji asked, his hand coming up to rub his temple - oh, oh. "Is she naked when you see her?"

"She is," Choso quickly affirmed.

"Dear god," Yuji muttered.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, just - " Yuji locked eyes with him, "She not - just - " shit, how do I - never mind - "Nobody's related to anybody, just go back to sleep, yeah?"

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ⸻ 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader

⌜HOW MR. MILLER STOLE CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST⌟

genre: enemies to lovers, romance, fake dating, minors dni

word count: 3.7k

chapter summary: hanging garlands around town goes horribly wrong when you decide to decorate one of the polls. luckily a stranger with a rather soothing voice talks you through it and helps you down. But much to your surprise, he doesn't seem to be a stranger at all but rather a reminder of the past you've been trying to escape from.

warnings: age gap, canon typical violence, reader having a fear minor fear of heights, some threats, a brief make-out scene at the end, drinking

**dividers by @saradika

Jackson is everything you never expected in such a cruel world.

It’s been only a week since your arrival, yet you already feel fully incorporated into the community. Tommy and Maria Miller had surprisingly taken a liking to you. Later on, you learned that, especially Maria, wasn’t that keen on newcomers. If you had to guess why she decided to take you in, it would be the fact that you were half-dead and a mile away from their doorstep. It was cold, very cold. You still remembered how the wind sliced against your cheeks. When you came to, you met Tommy Miller. His smile was genuine and vaguely familiar for a reason you couldn’t quite understand. He had shown you around, then led you to your new home.

A home. Something you’d thought wasn’t possible anymore. 

Something that you would protect to keep, no matter what. 

It was a bit rundown, but solid nonetheless, like most of the survivors. Despite being only one person, the home they provided had three rooms and two bathrooms. You felt spoiled. You’d told Tommy about it, he had just laughed it off saying that after everything you’ve been through you deserve a decent roof over your head. 

The words had stung at the time. He didn’t know who you were or what you’ve done. Jackson was a small community so you knew that Tommy Miller had been somewhat involved with the Fireflies but not like you. Never like you. 

You feel slightly nauseous thinking about it. Snow crunches loudly under your boots as you make your way to Tommy’s. It’s lonely not being able to talk, not being able to say what you’re thinking freely. Most of the time it just feels like you’re looking through the other side of the glass, never truly comfortable around people that you frequently conversed with. 

Standing in front of the door you take a deep breath, your skin tickles as your lungs expand with crisp cold air and you smile faintly upon the exhale. It’s hard, but you shouldn’t be complaining. You don’t have to fight to stay alive anymore. You don’t have cuts and bruises, you’re not a soldier anymore—you’re free. 

Your mind drifts off only for a second, to that day when you made your escape. You would’ve been dead if it wasn’t for the man who spared you. His vacant gaze is still vivid in your head, waking you from sleep from time to time. 

You follow your first knock with a second one. Heavy footsteps reach your ears and the door opens with a loud creak. Tommy’s eyes shine bright as he sees you, a half smile tugging at his mouth. If you had to call someone a friend it would certainly be him. 

“Hey there Pecan,” he says. “Ready for some decoratin’?” 

“Can I get out of it if I say no?” 

He scoffs, “Don’t be a baby. It’ll be fun.” 

“How is labor fun?” 

You grin broadly and upon seeing it Tommy rolls his eyes. Stepping forward, he closes the door behind him. “You’re the goddamn second person to tell me that, you know.” 

“Who beat me to it?” 

“My pain in the ass brother.” 

The two of you walk to the back to get the garlands. Everyone in Jackson had pitched in to make them, including you. “I keep forgetting you have a brother. Why haven’t I seen him yet? Does he hate you or something?” 

“I’d say the opposite,” he huffs, opening the door of the garage. It’s full of boxes with “Christmas” written in bold letters. Luckily you don’t have to deal with those today. Only the garlands. “He’s like a mother hen. Too overbearin’. His name’s Joel and if you decide on gettin’ a tree you’ll see his ugly mug.” 

You doubt that anyone related to Tommy would be ugly but you decide to keep that to yourself. “Why is that?” 

“Maria appointed him as Christmas tree farmer. You can imagine his joy upon hearin’ that.” 

“All by himself?” you ask a bit surprised. 

“Nah. He has a couple of helpers but they work in shifts, everyone is pitching in chopping down the trees and getting them where they need to go. You’re free to help him out if you’re so worried.” 

“I’m not,” you say a bit too quickly when seeing Tommy’s grin. “It just felt a bit unfair for an old man.” 

“He might be old but he’s a fuckin’ beast,” he answers, leaning down and picking up one of the boxes. You follow, you take two since garlands aren’t exactly heavy. “I’ve never seen anyone as resilient as him. Honestly, it scares the shit out of me sometimes.” 

“You can say that about a lot of people here.” 

“You’ll understand what I mean when you meet him.” He heads out the garage and so do you, both of you leaving deep footprints on the snow as you head to the heart of the community. “And do please call him old man in person. I wanna see the look on his face.” 

“I’m not going to sacrifice my well-being so you can laugh at your brother, Tommy.” 

“You disappoint me, Pecan.” 

Damn, Tommy Miller and his stupid stupid garlands. 

You have no idea how long it’s been since you started hanging them all around town. You and Tommy had split up, deciding that it would be faster. At the time it made perfect logical sense but now, as your heart rams into your chest while decorating one of the polls, you decide it was a stupid ass idea. 

You’re not exactly scared of heights but you’re not a fan of them either. Every time the ladder creaks, you have a miniature heart attack. You’d feel much safer if Tommy were holding the legs, even though you know it wouldn’t help much if the damn thing collapsed. You hear the faint chatter coming from below. Some people staring as you wrap the stubborn garlands around the cylinder wood. You hate this. Hate it, hate it, hate it. 

When you’re finally done and about to climb back down, you can’t move. 

“Fuck,” you hiss loudly, knowing that no one can hear you. You glance down—big mistake. Your entire body freezes over, your fingers tight around the poll. You have half the mind to hug the damn thing. Your throat tightens and you look up. This is it, after everything you’ve been through, you’re going to fucking die while hanging fucking garlands—

A strong gust of wind blows, swaying the ladder side to side, a sharp scream rips from your throat, and this time you do hug the pole. You notice a small crowd gathering. Another blow of wind and the unstable surface ceases to exist, you barely manage to bring your legs around the poll. 

Screams and shouts that don’t belong to you reach your ears and you hope no one got hit by the ladder. Oh god. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, sweat beading from every pore despite the cold. 

“Slide down!” you hear someone shout. A man, you register. A man with a deliciously raspy and deep voice. “Just slide down damn it!” 

“No!” you shout back. “It took me hours wrapping the damn garlands I’m not doing it again!” 

A weak excuse but still valid nonetheless. If you slide down all that work it rook the town to make these things would get destroyed thanks to your body. And even if it doesn’t, the damn things would slide down with you. There’s no way you’re climbing back up here. At least not until hell freezes over. 

“You’re gonna fall and the ladder is busted,” the man shouts back. “And from the quiverin’ of your legs, I don’t think you’ll last until Greg brings the other one!” You hug the poll tighter, he was right, your legs—especially your thighs—were about to give out. And as if he can read your mind, the voice shouts out once more. “I’ll hang the damn things myself and fix’em up, just slide your ass down before your legs fuckin’ give out!” 

You’re starting to get a bit lightheaded. Adrenaline and fear make your breathing uneven and quick. The disembodied voice is right. If you don’t slide down now your body is just going to give up and you are going to crack your head against the ground. A sharp exhale parting your lips, you finally start sliding down. You loosen your limbs, groaning every time you feel the needles of the garland ripping away and presumably falling above the snow. Fuck. You hope the stranger is good with his hands.  

“That’s it, atta girl,” you hear him say, ignoring the way your body slightly clenches at the praise. “Just go down, I’m right here.” 

More voices start to reach your ear the more you go down. You hear the voice of a girl, “I would’ve died if that happened to me.  Holy shit.” 

The man grunts, “Now’s not the time, Ellie. Keep your opinions to yourself.” 

By the time you reach the end, your breathing is ragged and you can barely feel your legs. The man who’s been talking you through it holds you gingerly from the waist and pulls you away from the poll. Your feet skip over each other and you end up tripping backwards, right into the stranger's chest. You feel the warmth of his breath tickling the back of your head as you both end up falling. His body breaks your fall, his large hands still holding you from the waist. A pleasant shudder runs up your spine and you find yourself relaxing. 

The crowd inches closer, a worried clammer coming from all directions. However, all you can focus on is the girl standing right across from you. She’s wearing a thick coat, her hair in a neat ponytail. She’s giving you a curious look, she also looks amused. 

Your brows furrow, the brown of her eyes familiar. 

“You plannin’ on gettin’ off me sweetheart?” 

You push yourself up, realizing you're still sprawled on top of the stranger. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you scramble to stand, muttering apologies. He chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that sends a shiver through you.

"Easy there, no harm done," he says, getting up as well. The crowd disperses now that the crisis is averted, leaving you alone with the man and the girl, who's still watching you with that curious expression. “You a’right? That was quite a journey down.” 

“I’m. . .” You turn towards him, still feeling disoriented, still feeling a bit shaky. You’re about to tell him you’re alright, and possibly thank him right after, but the words die in your throat. You hear the loud beat of your heart. Thud thud thud. The world is turning, spinning. You open and close your mouth, over and over again. His eyes meet yours. The same brown eyes you’ve seen in countless sleepless nights. 

You don't forget the face of the person who determines your fate. 

And in his case, you don’t forget the face of the person who spared you. 

Recognition slowly flickers across his weathered features. It’s so subtle. His lips part ever so slightly, eyes in the midst of going wide but keeping his eyelids neutral. He blinks heavily and snaps his lips tightly shut. You do the same. Your mouth now a thin line as you take each other in. 

Then you see the recognition, the surprise, turn into anger. You’re a brutal reminder of his past and what he’s done to get here. 

“Joel,” the girl hisses, nudging him with an elbow. “Don’t be an asshole.” 

You blink, eyes snapping to the girl. . . Ellie. . . the immune girl. 

Despite her harsh warning, neither of you speak. You are eyeing each other like wild animals wanting to protect their territories. Your legs are still shaking, your body trembling. He looks different but at the same time not at all. There’s no blood on him, no weapons. And the vacant look you’ve grown accustomed to is now full of emotion. 

No one notices Tommy until he’s standing next to Ellie, his chest heaves as he tries to gather his breath. His gaze fixed on you, “You a’right there pecan?” 

You freeze once more. The familiarity you’ve always felt around him—

“He’s your brother,” you state. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as he nods. You feel sick. 

“I’ve heard what happened are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” You’re not. Joel is still staring at you, taking in every detail. You take hold of yourself and force some emotion other than fear to flicker across your face. “I’m fine thanks to your brother, the ladder collapsed and I had to slide down,” you turn to Joel, ignoring the taste of blood in your mouth. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

The playful lilt in his tone was completely gone. Ellie jumps forward, quickly taking your hand, everyone except you misses the way Joel flinches, jerking forward. “I’m Ellie and this caveman here is Joel.” 

You clear your throat, “Nice to meet you Ellie and. . . “ You meet his gaze once again and say carefully. “Joel.” 

He doesn’t say a word as you introduce yourself. Thankfully Tommy whistles and all eyes turn towards the ruined garland and the pine needles scattered above the snow. “Fuck. It’s gonna take days to fix this.” 

“We still have time don’t we Uncle Tommy?” Ellie asks. “Joel offered to help fix it and hang it.” 

Tommy’s head snaps towards Joel, a lopsided smile stretching across his lips as he shoots him an amused look, “Did he now?” 

Ellie’s look matches her uncle’s, “He did.” 

“Well then,” Tommy says, slapping his brother’s back. Joel glares at him, his brows knitted tightly together. “I’ll leave it up to you.” 

“We should go,” Joel says suddenly, grabbing Ellie’s arm and dragging her away. Both you and Tommy are left dumbfounded as you watch Ellie furiously waving. 

“Nice meetin’ you pecan!” 

“Good,” Tommy grins, prompting your sharp glare. “The nickname is catching on.” 

Alcohol buzzes in your system, making you grin like a fool as you lean back against the makeshift bar, enjoying the sight of everyone dancing and laughing. After a boring meeting of who would be doing what during the Christmas season, everyone had rushed out to get the bonfire ready. Faint music hummed in the background. Festive songs you’ve hadn’t heard since you were a little girl. You only recognize the melodies since you were a kid when you last heard them, the lyrics you can’t quite remember. 

You watch Tommy and Maria from the corner of your eyes, he had his arms wrapped snugly around her waist. They were happy. Deep inside you can’t help but be envious. You hadn’t met a lot of people since coming here, it was hard to make friends when you felt undeserving of the comfort you received. 

Your skin tingles as you remember Joel’s hands firm against your waist. You’ve felt something before recognizing him. Something sweet and playful. But it was ripped away thanks to your intertwined past. He was death. You can’t forget that. You wonder if Ellie knew what he’d done for her, you wonder if Tommy knew. 

Shaking your head you take another swig of your drink. All these thoughts were sobering you up. You can’t have that. You need to relax, to forget. But despite knowing that, a nasty feeling of worry brews in your gut. What if Joel tells them? What if he makes the case that you’re dangerous and did unspeakable things for the cause? Will Tommy and Maria throw you out then—or worse—kill you? Joel is Tommy’s brother after all. . . you. . . you are nothing. 

There’s a flicker of movement and a ripple amongst the crowd, lifting your head you see Joel giving Tommy a quick hug. He says something to Maria, a greeting you assume, and you notice Ellie heading off with Dina. Your heart skips a beat. You should go home, or at least stop staring at the man but you can’t. He’s the one you’ve been thinking about ever since you left the damn hospital. It was his eyes you’ve seen the nights you were jolted awake from the horrors the world had to offer. 

You can’t decide on what to do and because of that, you’re suddenly facing an icy cold gaze from him. His lips are downturned, shoulders raised. You think about smiling, maybe raising your drink but you decide it would only add fuel to the fire. 

A minute passes, a minute that feels like an hour, and he finally rips his gaze off of you, turning to Tommy instead. He squeezes his younger brother’s shoulder and quickly disappears. 

You feel an unwarranted rage at him leaving. Running away. And suddenly you’re on your feet, following him. You can see his footsteps in the snow. You’re not sure what you’re going to say to him but you have to say something. This is your home now too and he won’t be taking that away from you. You’re not leaving after finding some semblance of peace. 

You follow the footprints to a narrow space between two buildings. You notice moss in the cracks of the wood. You frown. Where the hell is he? There isn’t any place else to go from here, it’s a dead end. 

You turn on your heel, only to come to an immediate stop. 

His expression is dark, a harsh sneer on his face that makes you stop. You remember the stories, the ones about the things he’d done to survive. You swallow thickly and take a step back, but he reaches out and shoves against the wall. You gasp as Joel’s arm presses against your throat, your back hitting the wall with a painful thud.

"You’ve got some nerve, showin’ your face around here," he growls, pressing you harder against the wall. You can feel his warm breath against your face, his forearms causing you to struggle for air. But you refuse to back down, refusing to let him intimidate you. You stare right back into his angry eyes. “Tell me what you want.” 

“Nothing,” you hiss. “I just wanted to talk to you, clear the air.”

“Clear the air of what?” he leans closer, your nose almost brushing. “You’ll leave right now.” 

“No I fucking won’t,” you snap and claw at his arm. It’s getting harder to breathe. “Jackson’s my home too.” 

His eyes narrow and he presses forward, fully cutting the airflow. There’s a vicious throbbing in the back of your eyes and tears gather in the corners. “I should’ve fuckin’ killed you when I had the chance,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You don’t know what to do, you can barely speak, only whimpers leaving your parted lips. You attempt to kick at his legs but he simply moves out of the way. 

How can this be the same man who held you so gently before? 

“Take this as a warnin’,” Joel loosens his grip, your lungs filling with delicious oxygen. “If I see you anywhere near Ellie—” 

“Oi Miller, what the fuck are you doing?” 

You should be relieved. You really fucking should. But seeing the panic flaring in his eyes, a similar emotion starts coursing through your veins. You both tense and you feel your skin growing taut over your body. Your eyes shift between him and the two friends standing. You recognize them, one of them is Marc, and the other Steven. Twins. Your eyes move gradually back to Joel, he meets your gaze, your eyes drop to his lips, a plan forming in your head—an ill-advised plan, but a plan nonetheless. 

You kiss him. 

You fucking kiss him. 

The arm on your throat immediately drops and you fist the front of his shirt, pulling him closer until he’s flushed against you. His body feels solid against your own. Strong and tall. He hesitates, his lips still as stone. Not knowing what else to do to make it more convincing, you tilt your head, lick the seam of his lips, and moan absurdly into his closed mouth. Joel starts moving then. His hands trail down the sides of your body and grip your hips, squeezing as he moves his mouth. 

Everything about the moment lingers. The kiss, the closeness, everything. His hands twitch and you find yourself rolling your body towards him, feeling the semi-bulge underneath his pants. When a second moan escapes you it’s not for show. Heat licks the base of your spine, your entire being screaming for him to come closer and closer and closer— 

He stops. It’s sudden and cold. However, you take the hint and with a lazy smile turn to the men watching you with dropped jaws. Joel doesn’t bother to look in their direction, he’s still holding you, allowing you to use his shoulder somewhere to lean against. His grip on you is tight. 

“Sorry guys,” you make an effort to slur your speech. “I might’ve had too much to drink and couldn’t keep my hands to myself. Love it when a man is a bit rough.” 

You don’t know why but his grip on you instantly loosens. Both Steven and Marc look at you with utter shock. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Marc blurts out. “Get a room you two. There are families out.” 

With that they both leave, grumbling to themselves something about young people you can’t quite catch. 

When both of you are sure no one is near, Joel shoves you off of him. “What the hell was that?” 

“A kiss.” 

“Don’t fuckin’ pull that shit with me, people are gonna talk. They’re gonna think I can’t keep it in my pants.” 

“Better than them thinking you were gonna kill me,” you say. “You should be thanking me for saving your ass,” you answer, trying very hard not to look down at the front of his pants. “Don’t worry so much nothing is going to happen. They’ll talk a day or two and then it’ll just blow over.” 

He doesn’t seem that convinced, “Fine,” he grunts and you start to take your leave. Your mind is swirling with unidentifiable emotions. You need time to think. “I was serious, stay away from Ellie.” 

As if you were the dangerous one here. 

“Joel,” you turn to face him one last time for the night. Not prepared to see how his eyes were glossed over, the anger and hatred drained from them. He looks startled. “I’m not leaving my home.” 

[chvoswxtch]

☾ romcom- headcannons (request a director’s cut to make it spicy)

i am in desperate need of some slutty thoughts about matt crawling through your window late at night (aka the dream)

you didn't ask for it but the wardrobe department has decided to put matthew in the black suit of sin for this scene for reasons

andddddd ACTION!

as a reminder, director's cut means it's spicy ! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

late night with the devil starring matt murdock

matt can't tell if it's an unusually slow night in hell's kitchen, or if he just can't seem to focus on blind justice tonight bc your sent is still all over him from having you tangled up in his sheets last night

he'd worn the very tie this morning he'd used to blindfold you with last night (let your imagination run wild with that one) which was a mistake on his part bc it meant your scent was right under his nose all day long

the longer he's perched on the roof like a fucking gargoyle, trying and failing to concentrate on the sounds of the city, he gets more and more restless, and eventually his desires win out over his self imposed duty

the window to the fire escape by your living room was always left unlocked for him so he could pay you a visit anytime he wanted while he was out on patrol. he could hear your even breathing, steady heartbeat, and the sound of pages being turned, which indicated that you were awake to his delight and excitement

matt lifted the window and slipped inside without making a sound, closing it just as quietly, his booted footsteps mute against the worn wooden floor

you hated it when he snuck around like a ninja and scared the shit out of you, threatening to haunt him if he ever sent you into cardiac arrest, but matt was a little shit and loved making you jump and scream. he especially liked making you scream ;)

he stalks towards you like a predator, and then without warning, he yanked the book out of your hands. before you even had a chance to react, he pounced on top of you, making you squeal loud enough to wake your neighbors

"matthew michael murdock! you fucking-"

a rumble of amused laugher sounded deep from within matt's chest, and he grinned as he bent down to capture your lips, cutting off your string of irritated curses. he nuzzled his nose against your neck, purposefully using his sexy daredevil voice bc he knows what it does to you

"well, hello to you too, sweetheart."

your anger swiftly evaporates bc how can it not when matt has you trapped beneath him, your wrists pinned above your head, those sinful lips teasingly brushing against that spot on your neck that drives you wild and that sultry voice in your ear

"you're a goddamn menace."

matt lets out another hearty chuckle, and you can feel the vibrating rumble against your own chest, and his callused hand stroking your bare thigh before squeezing the soft pliant flesh eagerly

"so i've been told."

a shaky breath left your parted lips feeling the coarseness of his facial hair brush against your neck, the ghost of his breath making your skin prickle, and the warm weight of his hips between your thighs

"sorry for scaring you, honey. let me make it up to you."

matt was already kissing his way down your chest and pushing the hem of your nightgown upwards

"I want a sincere apology, murdock."

matt grinned against your skin as he lifted the nightgown up to your hips, dragging his tongue slowly along your lower stomach, making your back arch slightly and a shudder run through you to his delight

"of course, angel. why don't I get on my knees and beg, hm?"

it amazed you how he could move so quickly while being such a tease. he kept his touches featherlight and barely granted your needy skin any contact from his lips, and your brain barely registered the feeling of your panties being slipped down your thighs, but you did feel matt's hands gripping your hips and dragging you towards the edge of the bed

you don't know who moaned louder after that first swipe of his eager tongue through your soaked cunt, you or matt

he didn't hesitate, diving right in with his greedy mouth. he captured your hands and intertwined your fingers, holding your hands tightly against your hips, groaning as he allowed you to rock your hips against his face as he devoured you

the burn of his facial hair rubbing your inner thighs raw was a problem for tomorrow bc all you could focus on was the way he alternated between teasingly tracing the tip of his tongue around your sensitive clit and then flicking his tongue over it repeatedly

he moaned when he wrapped his lips around your clit and began to suckle, and both the sensation and the vibration had your thighs trembling, making you squeeze his hands so tightly the skin went taut over your knuckles

even when he made you come, hard, he wasn't done. while you were lost in the buzzing blissful haze of an orgasm that made you feel boneless, matt had stripped down completely and rejoined you on the bed, flipping you over onto your stomach and pulling you up onto your knees

his firm warm chest was pressed against your back as he leaned over you and gruffly whispered in your ear

"now it's your turn to beg."

the urge to write 137 pages of this akjsdhlksjklf

[ruggiesbiologicalfather]

NRC Boys When They're Sick

it's illness season baybee! so here you go!

Heartslabyul:

Riddle - it's a rare occurrence for him to fall ill but on the off chance that it happens, my boy is ready. he has a strict regimen of remedies on hand including face masks in heartslabyul red which he wears religiously. sadly, he sees illness as a moral failing and spends his time wondering how this could've possibly happened. he did everything right! curse this common cold! he makes trey take expert notes in class and deliver his homework to him so he can complete it immediately. no rest for true scholars!

Ace - massive baby. constantly whining. lord help his roommate. he's not NEEDY per se; he doesn't ask anyone for anything, he's just constantly reminding the world that he doesn't feel good. pity him or he gets grumpy

Deuce - tries to fight through it and convince everyone that he's not sick. the boy could be literally swaying on his feet and congested past the point of coherency and still say, "honor students don't get sick." slip him a few benadryl in his tea and he'll recover

Trey - two words: comfort snacks. he's pretty brave about being sick but he takes time off from classes and extracurriculars to make himself (or scavenge) some snacks. also hydration is key! he's a hot water with lemon kinda guy. god forbid he has the stomach flu and can't eat. he gets MAD

Cater - he never stays sick for very long. his recovery time is pretty impressive. however, while he's down he gets BORED. he starts out just playing on his phone in bed but without actual interaction he gets a little stir crazy. expect to receive a million messages while you are in class, several thousand of which are nonsensical videos that he finds hilarious due to copious amounts of benadryl

Savanaclaw:

Leona - barricades himself in his room with an "enter at your own risk" sign on the door (courtesy of ruggie). he spends his entire time trying to sleep but he's usually coughing so bad he keeps waking himself up. he's even more irritable than usual. ruggie manages to sneak in every few hours to deliver meds and snacks before fleeing the scene. once the sickness has passed, no one is allowed to mention it. business as usual

Ruggie - seasonal allergies warrior (sorry son, you get that from me :/). every time the seasons change, he gets a terrible case of the Yuck. luckily, he can always feel it coming so he pops four zyrtec a day (instead of the recommended One) until he obliterates the allergens. the grind never stops. godspeed my boy

Jack - the grind never stops but at what cost? he's so tired... so so tired. he tries to power through like a champ though. he spends his time off either studying or doing lighter versions of his regular workouts. and if you try to tell him to take it easy, he'll hit you with: "actually it's fine to do moderate workouts if your symptoms are all above the neck." alright big dawg.

Octavinelle:

Azul - disappears. just straight up hides. people joke that it's because if the twins see any sign of physical weakness, they'll eat him. you laugh... but it might... nevermind. he doesn't want anyone to see him sick. but if you manage to get a glimpse, you'll see he looks absolutely AWFUL. like moments from death. just let him hole up in the dark for a while. after all, that's the octopus instinct

A Note About The Twins - they always fall one right after the other: jade goes down first, floyd goes down harder. and it's always in the most inconvenient way. jade will be down for a few days and just when you think he's over it, floyd goes down in the exact same way

jade - he's fucking MEAN. he drops the snide, tongue-in-cheek, gentleman act and is a nightmare to interact with. if azul tells him to do literally anything at all, instead of giving his usual mischievous compliance, he will straight up tell him, "i hope someone deep fries you." it's terrifying. while he's in the throes of illness, azul makes himself scarce. and you do too especially after last time when you found out that moray eels actually have two sets of teeth. yeah... never again

floyd - immediately turns into a ragdoll filled with concrete. he's always found face-down in the middle of his bedroom floor and cannot be convinced to move. if you want him to rest in bed, you best prepare a team to haul him up there because he will not do it on his own. and he always spikes a fever of over a hundred no matter what kind of illness it is. it's kind of scary and you think he's gonna die. but then he just pops back up like it's normal. no easing back into health. just boom, bang, back to work

Scarabia:

Kalim - Must! Be! Babied! because he's so well taken care of all of the time, he doesn't get sick with minor things. it's always a huge event. he gets whiny and clingy and doesn't want to be by himself. jamil, of course, is constantly hovering through his recovery. however, as he's being babied, he's really in remarkably high spirits. just get him some soup and play a game with him and he'll be fine

Jamil - you'd have no idea he was sick if it wasn't for the dark circles under his eyes. as you know, he's very dedicated to his job so he doesn't take time off if he can help it. sometimes he can't help it, especially when it comes to stomach viruses. he is EXTREMELY emetophobic. he would rather lay completely still, barely breathing, than throw up. kalim tries to reciprocate the babying he enjoys but jamil is not receptive. just leave him alone

Pomfiore:

Vil - very self-sufficient. he insists that rest and hydration is the key and has a million little holistic remedies for any ailment. he is GLUED to his humidifier. he also takes this time to have a little self-care day. extra-long bath, face mask, mediation, the works. it's really quite peaceful. but NO ONE under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES is allowed to see him. the only person allowed in his room is rook (to deliver supplies) and even then the lights are off and vil is hiding. he declares loudly that he's HIDEOUS but you doubt that's true

Rook - never gets sick. like... to a suspicious degree. he could tongue-kiss patient zero and skip away merrily like nothing happened. there has been one time in your entire time knowing him that you've seen him almost sick and it was barely a sore throat. according to him, it's due to a combination of a naturally strong immune system and pomfiore's dedication to wellness. whatever it is, you can't help but wonder if he's lying

Epel - comatose due to horrific amounts of cough syrup. he doesn't have time for illness; it's harvest season and country boys make do

Ignihyde:

Idia - gets sick ALL THE TIME. styx was such a sterile environment that he never built immunity to common viruses. any time he needs to be out and about for whatever reason, there's a 50/50 shot he's going to come down with something. and you'd think he'd be a whiny baby about it but ortho always discovers him lying in his bed in a mostly dissociative state. because he never got sick as a kid in styx, he never learned to take care of himself so it's up to ortho to get him back on his feet

Ortho - with all due respect, this is a robot. you'll be involved in the next post buddy. hang in there

Diasomnia:

Sebek - his ears get clogged every. single. time. so imagine sebek's voice right... now imagine he can't hear. the entire dorm is aware when he's feeling stuffed up. of course, he insists on staying up malleus' ass as usual but he does so with kn95 masks, surgical gloves up to his elbows, and an honestly insane amount of hand sanitizer

Silver - i feel like it's obvious that his way of dealing with sickness is to just sleep it off. his body is already so prone to exhaustion that any fatigue just makes it ten times worse. but he doesn't like to fight through it alone. any time he gets sick, he makes his way into his father's bed and curls up there instead of in his own. lilia knows all the ways to make him feel better. he teases him a little, saying he's far too old to be coddled and soothed to sleep. but in reality, he doesn't mind. it's nice to have his little boy back for a while

Lilia - being sick doesn't really bother him much. it's a part of life and he's been around long enough to know how to deal with it. the biggest problem comes from his back. the physical exhaustion from illness means that the pain he feels is intensified. sometimes, he's bed-bound for a day or more. in those times, it's silver's turn to take care of him for a change. he likes to make little jokes about it, saying things like "ah yes, this is why you have children. good job taking care of your old man." he doesn't want anyone else to know what's going on and silver would never tell

Malleus - you always know malleus is ill by the wailing cry that emanates from sebek. he has failed his lord! how could he possibly forgive himself!? sebek tries to help but lilia has to shoo him away. in times like these, his reptile instincts kick in. he squeezes himself under his bed and barely moves at all. every few hours, lilia wiggles under there and asks if he needs to moisten him with a spray bottle to which malleus responds with spitting a few sparks directly in his face as a warning. he doesn't like to be bothered. he'll crawl out when he's ready

[brownsugaboba]

title: “Chapter 4: Yearning For You, All This Time.”

december 24th, 2024.

—————————————————————————————

bruce wayne x reader.

black reader. (anyone can read but emphasis on black.)

19+ (this chapter is NOT 19+, however upcoming chapters will be.)

—————————————————————————————

the night air wrapped around them like a cool embrace as bruce and (y/n) stepped out of selina's wedding, the echoes of silence and lingering stares weighing heavily in the atmosphere. bruce had anticipated selina's behavior; his years of knowing her had taught him to expect the unexpected.

however, for you, the sharpness of selina's tongue was a bitter surprise. it was baffling to think someone who had once had love for him could turn so cruel, especially when she was now marrying someone else.

“(y/n),” bruce broke the silence, his voice steady against the backdrop of the still night. they continued their walk down the sidewalk towards his car.

you glanced up at him, a slight nod acknowledging his words. “yes?”

as they reached the car, he gently opened the door for you, releasing your hand as you slipped into the leather seat. “thank you,” you murmured, meeting his gaze with a warm, tentative, smile.

it was difficult to find the right words in the wake of the moment.

with a soft click, he closed the door and moved around to the driver's side, sliding into the seat with a quiet heaviness. the engine's purr broke the silence as he turned the key, but his thoughts were far from focusing the road.

in the solitude of the car, he replayed the earlier scene—the unexpected hostility from selina, the way it had darkened an otherwise joyful occasion. he struggled with the desire to apologize on her behalf, understanding that their past relationship had casted a shadow over you and him.

deep down, he felt the weight of guilt for the tension that had unfolded between you two.

“i’m truly sorry for how she reacted. you didn’t deserve a minute of that; not even a second,” he finally confessed, turning his head to look at you, sincerity etched across his features.

your smile remained, aware that his attempt to find the right words had taken a toll on him. “bruce—” you began, wanting to ease his burden, but he quickly interrupted.

“no, let me finish,” he compelled softly, his voice almost a whisper.

you quickly felt an urge to quiet yourself, to let him gather his thoughts, but you had to decline his offer.

“no, let me. please…” you responded, with a tone that matched his softness, making him to pause mid-sentence, a hint of amusement went across his face as he realized your determination.

“you didn’t deserve it either,” you reminded him, your gaze unwavering. “the small comments, the disrespect—you didn’t deserve any of it. neither of us did.”

“that is true, but—” he started, only for you to cut in.

“there shouldn’t be any ‘buts’ when it’s the truth,” you replied, a playful smirk taking form, watching his own smirk expand as he listened to your point. “now that we both agree, how about we finally leave this in the past?”

he regarded you thoughtfully, a small chuckle escaping him as he nodded in agreement. the interplay between the two of you filled the car, a mixture of lightheartedness and understanding.

“your sassiness truly hasn’t left at all,” he remarked as he steered the car towards the restaurant.

—————————————————————————————

upon arriving, the restaurant revealed itself—a stunning upscale building encased in floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a beautiful view of gotham’s skyline and the gentle flowing river. despite the bustling crowd, bruce’s reputation paved a way for him, and after handing the car over to valet, he took your hand in his, leading you through the entrance.

“no manor tonight?” you asked, scanning the surroundings, excitement fluttering within you at this unexpected stop.

pulling you closer to him as if to shield you from the prying eyes of strangers, his hand rested gently against your back, starting a warmth that went through your skin.

“i figured i’d treat you,” he said, motioning to the host who greeted them, his expression casual yet filled with unspoken intent.

you followed the host upstairs, bruce’s touch never leaving your back, a rope binding you together as you went deeper into a private room of comfort and quietness.

“considering my kids and i have put you through quite the few days,” he added, a playful tone to his voice.

A a chuckle escaped you, lightening the weight of the previous hours as you continued into an expansive private room. a small table for two was placed in the center, surrounded by intimate décor. floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the room in a soft glow, while bookshelves lined the walls, and a plush couch sat, allowing you to relax away from the bustling atmosphere below.

as you approached the windows, mesmerized by the glittering cityscape, bruce hung back, a warm smile spreading across his face as he admired you, his thoughts drifting to how he had felt in similar moments before.

just as the host began to retreat, bruce called him back, discussing a few details and slipping him some cash, ensuring your evening remained uninterrupted with a few surprises at the end.

the distant soft hum of piano music drifted from downstairs, fading into the walls of the private space, allowing him to gaze longer, more intently without fear of anyone else around.

he stepped closer. “i can only assume that you bring a lot of people here,” you remarked, your eyes still captured by the breathtaking skyline of gotham.

his looked at you on confusion now, a question lingering in the air between you, inviting even more curiosity than you two started with.

"and why do you assume that?" he asked, his voice low.

"the way you greeted the host downstairs... it’s clear this isn’t your first time," you continued, your eyes darting around the manor's elegant interior, searching for familiar sights.

bruce’s lips curved into a charming smile at your observation, a look of fondness crossing his features. you were still just as aware as you were all those years ago, and he couldn't help but find it cute.

"i can’t let anything past you, can i, (y/n)?" he said, pausing for effect. "but you’re wrong this time."

turning around to face him, your gaze met his. the warmth of his hand at your waist was grounding, and immediately sent your heart racing.

"am i now?" you challenged, a playful spark in your eyes.

he nodded, his smile widening slightly. "i've only been here once, and i came by myself. for the simple reason of…" he glanced toward the large windows, his eyes reflecting the beauty of the night. "the sight."

a smile broke across your face, truly understanding now.

“i think you’ve forgotten that i have kids now. too many to count,” he said teasingly, laughter dancing in your voice as you slowly slipped away from his hold.

bruce felt an unexpected pull, as he watched you leave the windows and his hands. your presence leaving him with more thoughts than before.

he moved toward your chair, pulling it out, allowing you to take your seat before gently pushing you closer to the elegantly set table.

"do you think i’ll ever meet them… officially?" you asked excitement and nervous; recalling how they had eavesdropped on your conversation with him just the other day,.

bruce chuckled softly as he settled into his own chair across from you, his striking blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that felt all-consuming, making the world around you fade away.

"absolutely," he replied, his tone confident and warm. "i think they’re planning on meeting you one way or another."

as you and bruce enjoyed the dishes you craved first, the chef entered with a large smile. he revealed two of his most finest dishes, each one a culinary masterpiece.

bruce, with a warm grin, leaned in to explain that he hadn’t requested the chef to bring up any dishes. so the action was truly unexpected and surprising.

right after you two finished, the waiter returned, collecting their empty plates with refilling their wine glasses. he exchanged a brief nod with bruce before leaving, which made you smile, a gesture that seemed as though he was planning something.

“you’ve been in gotham for a while now, haven’t you?” bruce’s voice was a smooth murmur. his gaze showed genuine curiosity, a glimmer of understanding lurking beneath it.

you nodded, fingers lightly tracing the rim of your newly filled glass, your eyes drifting to the stunning view of the gotham skyline outside, the city lights glowing like a field of stars.

“yeah,” you replied softly, the weight of years drifting behind each word. "a few years now."

bruce arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "and before that? you weren’t in town for good, were you?" he paused, a knowing grin spreading across his face.

"i assume you weren’t just here for selina’s wedding."

a smile tugged at your lips, your dimples appearing as you spoke, “no.”

as you continued, your voice fell to a whisper, yet remained steady. “i live here now. i’ve been living in gotham for… almost two years, actually. but not under my real last name.”

at that revelation, bruce's gaze sharpened, shadows of his own past creeping into his expression for a fleeting moment before he pushed them aside. “understandable, with everything that happened,” he murmured softly.

you nodded, a silence settling between you two, taking a small sip of your wine as you thought on your journey.

bruce studied your silence, though it wasn’t awkward. it was comforting. his fingers absently tracing the edge of his glass as thoughts swirled in his mind. “why did you leave, if you don’t mind me asking?”

lowering your glass back to the table, you began to swirl the rich red wine inside, gathering the courage to share more.

"you know i don’t mind with you, bruce," you reassured him. "i went to medical school, followed my father’s footsteps.”

bruce’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of your response sinking in. it was a surprise that made him anxiously uneasy, considering the tragic connotations for both of you.

"you truly are brave, (y/n)," he said, his voice laced with admiration.

you smiled softly at him, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow on your features.

"sometimes," you replied, your tone steady but infused with quiet grief, "you just have to.. change yourself, even if it’s the last thing you want to do."

"i’m here because my father…" you continued, your expression growing more serious. "and gotham, is a… hard place to grow up. even harder to survive when you’re all alone. we know that more than anyone.”

bruce exhaled slowly, his gaze unwavering as he absorbed your words. he understood the weight of grief, the shadows of loss that shadowed your thoughts, for since he had walked that exact path himself. "definitely."

"but.. you can’t keep running from your past forever," you said, your voice steady but gentle.

"but you can build a future, right? that’s what I’ve been trying to do by coming back here, by going with you to selina's wedding."

as you spoke, bruce sat in silence, acutely aware of the truth in your words, the understanding only making you closer as the conversation continued.

he quickly recognizing the truth in every syllable. it was mesmerizing to see someone who had once faced the same tragedy as him, now having emotional intelligence and strength.

in this intimate setting, surrounded by the soft glow of candlelight and the low sound of the piano in the background, he was quickly immersed in an activity that brought you joy. there was something inspiring and hopeful about it—your resilience ignited a spark in him, urging him to embrace the life he had crafted for himself even more.

"you want to build a future—" he paused, his heart racing as he leaned closer. "with me in it?” the question was more of a statement, letting you know that he wanted the same.

you let out a soft, melodious chuckle, and your eyes sparkled with sincerity as you nodded. "starting with you, bruce, only if you'll let me."

a smile broke across bruce's face, wide and genuine, illuminating his features in a way that was rare and beautiful. "you know i can't say no to you."

as you exchanged smiles, the warmth of his words wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. for a brief moment, the chaotic shadows of the outside world faded away—the lingering grief and the heavy solitude of gotham felt so far away.

here, in this room of understanding, two souls who had faced the dark and twisted realities of life and found comfort and safeness in each other's presence.

for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you sensed a shift, a belief that the city you grew up in, the city that your parents died in, might not be such a lonely place after all.

the distant hum of the party pierced through the deepness of your conversation, yet the private room remained a a space just for you two—

and you couldn’t ask for more.

—————————————————————————————

after your heartfelt exchange, the waiter reappeared, a subtle reminder of the outside world.

bruce took your hand, his grip gentle yet reassuring, as he led you out of the of the private room. together, you both made your way down to the restaurant's first floor, only to find the once-bustling floor nearly deserted.

you look back at bruce in confusion, and he offered a reassuring squeeze of your hand, encouraging you to continue following the waitress.

the kitchen greeted you both, an unexpected yet inviting space that was surprisingly intimate still. a single plate centered on the polished cleaned counter, on it rested a slice of chocolate cake beside a vibrant bouquet of pristine white roses.

you let go of bruce's hand and stepped closer, captivated by the sight.

meanwhile, bruce discreetly slipped a few extra bills to the waitress, expressing his gratitude before joining you in the kitchen's warmth.

"bruce..." you murmured softly, lifting the bouquet to admire its delicate blooms.

your gaze found his striking blue eyes—eyes that had quickly become your favorite thing to lose yourself in.

"i’m enjoying you saying my name way too much, (y/n)," he replied, a playful smirk gracing his lips.

he stepped closer, his hand resting on your hip, drawing you into the gravity of his embrace. the only barrier between you two was the bouquet, which now felt like a symbol of your shared connection.

"im enjoying your actions tonight way too much, bruce," you retorted playfully.

he gently removed a single rose from the bouquet, mindful of the thorns, and brought it to his nose to inhale its sweet fragrance before extending it toward you.

"i hope you can enjoy them more," he whispered softly.

as you closed your eyes to savor the rose's scent, bruce gently reclaimed the flowers and set them back on the counter, pulling you closer with both hands now cradling your waist in his warm hands.

the sudden intimacy definitely took you by surprise, but a smile blossomed on your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"it’s strange having you be this touchy and..."

"romantic?" he interrupted, mischief in his eyes.

you tilted your head, deciding to tease him. "i was going to say tipsy, but romantic can do."

he scoffed, a grin spreading across his face, the warmth of his laughter infectious. "you think I’m behaving like this because i’m tipsy?"

your gaze wandered to his lips, lingering on their shape and moisture, making your heart race even more than it already was.

"yes," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

with a teasing smirk, he slowly licked his lips, drawing your focus back to his gaze. "i can’t be in my right mind to show you how much i want you here. in my future as well?”

your pulse quickened as his eyes locked onto yours, and he leaned in closer.

"i’m not tipsy, i’m more..." he hesitated, searching for the right word, "yearning.”

“for someone that was always here."

before you could respond, his lips found yours in a gentle kiss. his lips took ahold of your bottom darker lip, as he sucked you in. while his hands on your waist pulled you in closer, and wrapping his arms fully around your back. he wanted every last bit of you in his arms, as he held you like you were going to slip away if he didn’t.

you closed your eyes with a small breath, as the kiss deepened into something more passionate, a kiss that spoke of missed opportunities and unfulfilled desires.

bruce slowly entered his tongue inside when he felt the time was right. when you let out a soft moan because of it, he knew truly how right he was.

you brought your tongue inside of him as well, tilting your head in the process until you could feel every groove of him. every breath he made, as he continued to deepen the kiss, was like a dream as you melted into his embrace.

your hands along the back of his neck, slowly moved up his dark hair and quickly got lost in his strands.

the kiss wasn’t just a normal kiss. it was a kiss that bridged the gap of time spent apart, filled with the warmth of love and understanding—one that neither of you had fully realized you were capable of sharing until that very moment.

fin.

—————————————————————————————

next chapter will be updated soon..

[clockwayswrites]

Clock, I need you to know that I dreamt about that fic you aren't writing.

Clock, I don't dream. And on the very rare instances that I do, it's 99% disjointed nonsense that slips out of my head within 10 minutes of waking up. Literally, in my 24 years of life I've only had like 3 or 4 dreams that actually stuck.

But that fic you aren't writing has apparently sunk itself so deep into my brain that I had a once in a blue moon memorable dream about it.

It was still a bit disjointed, but I distinctly recall a dinner party? potluck? IDK, there was food; at Danny and Jason's apartment complex. Like, the while building. Some of Red Hood's crew was there. And Jason was in civvies. Dick was there too. And Danny was conspiring with everyone (not Jason) to be a mischievous little shit. So there weren't enough chairs. I'm sure you can see where this is going.

Oh my gods that is amazing. Also I'm sorry(?) for making you dream? Or you're welcome?

As a gift, to feed your poor brain... let's write a little bit of this. Hum, when would this happen for max amusement... Let's say this is after Danny has asked Hood if he wanted to share, but before the Goon scene.

-

“What the fuck,” Dick murmured to himself.

“They’re hiding chairs,” the stranger, who Dick hadn’t noticed leaning against the kitchen counter till then, explained.

Dick tilted his head in thought and took another sip of the battery acid they were calling punch at this potluck. The potency of the drink might explain what he was watching happen.

The chair on top of the tenuous stack wobbled dangerous.

One of the men— Marco? —who were trying to shove the stack of three chairs into the closet shushed the chair. He pointed at it like one would a misbehaving dog and that the threat alone would get it to stay.

Definitely the punch.

“Why?”

“Because if there aren’t enough chairs, someone is going to have to sit in someone else’s lap and they’re plotting to make that happen,” the stranger said.

Dick took a moment to glance away from the game of closet Jenga to look over the other person. They were a slight thing, but slight in the way that spoke of lean muscles and a hidden strength. It reminded Dick of how Wally was built. The bright aqua eyes were almost unnerving in how bold the color was. The way they were grinning, widely, as they continued to watch the struggle didn’t exactly make them any less unsettling.

They took a large bite out of the cookie they had in hand.

A cookie sounded like a good idea. Dick snagged one from the platter, recognizing Jason’s baking.

Cinnamon and spice bloomed across his tongue. “Huh. Okay. Does Jason know?”

The stranger laughed, shaking their head. “No, that would defeat the whole purpose. He’s the intended chair.”

“Huh.” Well that was interesting. “Who’s the intended seater. Sitter? Sittie?”

“That would be me,” the stranger said, sticking their hand not holding the cookie out. Dick set his war crime known as punch down to shake it. “Hi, I’m Danny. I’m your brother’s accidental sugar baby.”

Dick choked on thin air.

Just how potent was that punch?

[callsign-rogueone]

not alone - r.g.

Ridoc Gamlyn x reader part three of Ridoc and Sweetheart’s story. words: 1.8k 🏷: Iron Flame spoilers in a vague sense, reader experiencing the joys of RSC, implications of torture but it’s not shown, mild panic attack / anxiety spiral / self-deprecating thoughts, bring tissues maybe, “happy” ending, Ridoc (and Sawyer) to the rescue! I am so stuck on the first-date scene that I just skipped it for now but it will happen eventually, I promise!!

This has to be a dream. It feels like something out of an adventure novel — waking up in a literal dungeon, chained to the wall. 

“Rhith?”

You wait a few seconds, but she doesn’t respond. Oh, gods, what if she… no, she’s okay. She has to be okay, because you’re okay. Maybe she’s asleep or off hunting or something.

But she’s never not responded to you before. She’s always replied, always been there to assuage your worries and remind you that it’ll be okay, just breathe. 

Breathe. Deep breaths, think about the butterflies… You look up, seeing no trace of them, no flutter of blue wings in the dim mage light of the room that you can’t seem to brighten, either.

You try it again, picturing them more clearly, thinking about the patterns on their wings and the colors… Nothing.

Something is definitely wrong. 

Why can’t you make a simple illusion? Is your signet broken? Is that why you’re down here? Is this some kind of reconditioning? A punishment? Or are you here to be executed for being defective?

“Rhith?” you try again, still working to steady your breathing, but every second that passes without a response only tightens the knot around your heart.

There’s no use. She’s not going to respond, because she’s given up on you, finally realized she’d chosen poorly, that you aren’t fit to be a rider after all, and decided to do away with you before the next Threshing, where she could choose a better rider, one who doesn’t need constant reassurance and hand-holding like a child.

The door swings open, a uniformed infantry officer stepping inside, here to decide your fate. He’s fully armed, a short blade in his hand, ready to carve into your skin or to pierce your heart, put you out of your misery — to thin the herd, to separate the wheat from the chaff. 

“I’m sorry,” you plead, as if that will change her mind. “I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll try harder, I’ll prove to you that I can handle it, just please don’t give up on me, don’t leave me here to die, please…”

He scoffs at you. “Crying already? This is going to be easier than I thought.”

You can’t dry your tears with your hands tied behind your back, so you settle for blinking them away and willing them to stop — you need to be strong if you want to get out of this room alive and see your brother and sister and the rest of your family again.

Family. That’s it — to convince them you’re worth it, you need to be someone else, someone who is worth it, like your brothers. 

You’re going to get through this. You’re going to endure whatever they put you through like Garrick would, and do it all with a straight face like Xaden, and be brave like Liam and smart like Brennan, and then Rhith will take you back, and everything will be okay again; you just need to stay strong.

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

Ridoc can’t find you at breakfast— you aren’t sitting with Bodhi and Imogen and the other marked ones like you always do. Maybe you’re sleeping in, he decides. The thought is a small comfort to him, but he can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

He hadn’t seen you all weekend, but that much is normal — he’d spent Saturday afternoon with his friends at the tavern in town, and you aren’t the going-out type; you’d rather curl up with a book to distract yourself from the rest of the world and it’s cruelty.

You hadn’t answered your door when he’d come to extend you the invitation, but he’d just assumed you were elsewhere. And your relationship is new, anyway, new enough that the word relationship probably isn’t the best to describe what the two of you have — you’ve been on two dates. You aren’t going to be spending every hour of your spare time together. 

But you aren’t at morning formation either, and as he settles into his usual seat at Battle Brief, you’re still nowhere to be found. There’s no denying it now; this isn’t a series of coincidences, this is a pattern, and something is definitely wrong.

Second squad seems to all realize what’s happening at once.

“I’m sure she’s okay,” Sawyer tries, but Ridoc seems unconvinced, bouncing his leg under the table nervously. His eyes snap toward the door as it creaks open, one person walking through.

You make it up to the back of the lecture hall, settling into the open chair beside Ridoc, your usual spot these days.

Everyone’s eyes widen at the cuts and bruises across your arms and face, knowing there’s likely even more covered by your clothes.

“Are you okay?” Violet asks in a whisper, knowing it’s a stupid question, but wanting to say something anyway.

You nod, chewing your lip. “I’m fine, but I can’t feel Rhith. I don’t know what happened.”

You’ve been trying all morning, had tried all night when they’d finally left you to sleep… you haven’t heard anything from her in two full days, but the infantry officer had let you go free, so you must have passed whatever test they’d given you, decided you were worthy of being a rider after all.

Guilt flickers in Ridoc’s chest - he should have told you, given you some kind of warning. “They did the same thing to us last week. It was something in the water. It’ll wear off soon, I promise.” He holds a hand out, a small icicle forming in his palm that he wraps in a piece of soft fabric. “Here.”

You take it from him, holding it to the killer bruise forming on your jaw from where the officer’s fist had nearly broken it. “Thank you.”

You’re exhausted. You’d barely had enough time to shower before class started, and you’re pretty sure you’re concussed; it’s hard to think, and everything is too bright in here, too loud…

You turn your gaze back to the professor, but don’t take any notes, don’t make any move to take a pen and paper from your bag, letting your eyes fall shut as Devera continues her analysis. It goes in one ear, out the other, but you know none of it is true anyway, or if it is, it’s only half the story.

The ice is starting to melt against the warmth of your skin, dripping down your wrist. He takes it back, letting it disappear into thin air and pocketing the wet handkerchief silently, resting an arm on the back of your chair and pressing a soft kiss to your bruised temple.

You blink awake at the sound of everyone getting up to leave — you must have gotten almost an hour of sleep. It’s taken some of the edge off, but your entire body still aches as you rise from your seat.

“Aotrom says she’s on the flight field,” Ridoc says, shouldering your bag before you can protest. “Do you wanna go see her?”

You just nod in response, your jaw still aching too much to speak. You make the walk up in silence, your heart clenching when you see Rhith standing there, waiting for you.

The comforting voice is finally back in your head. “Hello, sweet one.��

“Hi,” you say aloud, voice wavering. 

She lowers her head to you, letting you stroke a hand over the dark green scales of her nose. “I would never want to replace you, sweet one. You are just as strong and just as valuable as your brothers, and I chose you for a reason.”

You realize that she’d heard it all, your desperate pleas for her to spare your life, the promises that you’d be better, thinking she’d abandoned you…

“I’m sorry for thinking that, I just… my signet stopped working, and I couldn’t hear you…” you’re going to cry just thinking about it. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she soothes. “Try it again.” 

You take a breath and close your eyes, picturing a butterfly. When you open them, you can see one floating through the gentle afternoon breeze. You add another, just to be sure that it wasn’t a fluke, and another… three of them now, content to flutter around in front of you.

Ridoc is still watching you, silent. The look of relief on your face breaks his heart.

He realizes that by separating you from Rhith, they’d taken away your only friend in that room. He’d had Rhiannon and Violet and Sawyer by his side the whole time, but you’d been entirely alone; no marked ones, nobody from your squad — you’re the only second-year left. They’d taken your best coping mechanism as well, your ability to self-soothe with your gentle projections. 

Rhith looks up at Ridoc, who stands a respectful distance away, your bookbag slung over his shoulder. “She says thank you,” you relay for her, “for taking care of me.”

Ridoc smiles. “Always, sweetheart. Now let's get you to the healers, hm?”

He holds out a hand, and you hesitate a moment before you take it, intertwining your fingers loosely. His skin is warm against yours, soft, gentle, safe. When you make it down the hill and across the bridge to the infirmary, you almost don’t want to let go.

You stay as close to Ridoc as you can for the rest of the day. He treats you incredibly carefully, even after you’ve been mended back to normal, the cuts healed and bruises faded completely.

You’re grateful to wake up in your own bed the next morning, silently getting ready for the day and falling into your place at morning formation.

“Atken,” Dain calls, gesturing for you to come see him. “You’re being transferred.”

What? Why? Your heart races, but you follow him silently, stopping in front of a different squad, in Fourth Wing.

“I think you already know most of your squadmates,” he prompts.

You take a good look at them — nearly all of your friends; Imogen and Sloane and Violet, and now Ridoc and his friends too. You might cry. “Thank you,” you say quietly.

“Don’t thank me, thank those two. They made quite the argument for transferring you.” He nods toward Ridoc and Sawyer — they both smile at you, Ridoc grinning from ear to ear, Sawyer looking rather bashful.

“So you won’t have to be alone anymore,” Ridoc answers before you can ask. 

You fall into the formation beside him, reaching over to hook your pinky around his in a tiny show of appreciation. “Thank you.”

He smiles at you, warm and bright, keeping your fingers interlocked through the morning roll and announcements.

Maybe your second year won’t be so bad anymore.

[haru-natsuka]

The fate (Anastacius x Female Reader x Claude)

Chapter 7: Dream

Dreams... born from the unconscious mind, remained a constant reminder of the past. They haunted her, replaying the scenes of her despair and loss, over and over again. The anguish, the grief, the heartbreak - all of it would come rushing back in a flood of emotions that threatened to consume her entirely. The dreams served as a cruel reminder of what she had lost, what she could never have again. A sight of her failure...

Female reader will be named as Celestial

From a young age, Celestial had dreamed of marrying her fiance, Anastacius. How could she not? After all, they had been engaged for a full decade and had grown to deeply love each other. For Celestial, her soulmate was Anastacius and for Anastacius, his soulmate was Celestial. Their connection was strong and unwavering, and the anticipation of their wedding day filled her with excitement and joy. Only a year left...before things turned wary.

Celestial's voice was filled with desperation and anguish as she pleaded, "Wake up, Acius. Please wake up."

She held his body on her lap, the bloodied recently crowned emperor of Obelia. Her hands was trembling as she gently caressed his face. Her eyes were fixed on his form, tears streaming down her cheeks as she saw the large stab wound on his chest. The blood continued to flow endlessly from the wound, staining his clothes and seeping into hers. With trembling fingers, she desperately tried to wipe away the blood trickling down his lips and chin.

As Anastacius spoke, his voice was weak and barely above a whisper. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and anguish.

"You killed me, my Celeste," he rasped, his words tinged with both hurt and resignation.

Despite the grievous injury and the severity of the situation, there was a deep sense of sadness, grief and a slight anger in his gaze as he gazed up at her, the one person he had loved dearly. Celestial's heart shattered at his words, the weight of his blame hitting her like a wave of guilt and self-pity. She had hoped for forgiveness, but instead, she was met with an accusation that cut through her very soul.

Her heart ached with pain and frustration as she protested, "What! No! Don't be ridiculous. How could I even stab you, Acius? I'm acting that way before, but I truly only loved you."

Celestial gazed down into his eyes, pleading with him to understand her truth. Tears streamed down her face, staining her cheeks and falling onto his wounded chest. It was like a final bid to convince him of her innocence, to make him see the love that still existed within her heart.

Anastacius suddenly reached out, gripping her hand with a firm, tight grip and forcefully pulling her closer, their faces only inches apart. A sinister smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a hint of evil amusement in his eyes. He let out a chuckle, the sound cold and cruel, as if he reveled in her desperation. Celestial's heart hammered in her chest, a mixture of fear and confusion swirling in her eyes.

Anastacius's grip on her hands tightened, the strength of his hold bordering on painful. He continued to speak, his tone mocking and cold. "No, you did. Years ago, with that dumb light power of yours. And just like me, you are about to get that bastard princess killed."

As Celestial's eyes shifted to the side, her gaze fell upon the sight of her child, Athanasia, standing on the guillotine, awaiting her execution. The blade hung ominously above her small form, a grim and heart-wrenching sight that made her heart plummet into her stomach. Alongside her stood Claude, eyes fixated on her with a cold, emotionless stare without any feelings, as if he was a mere spectator to the scene unfolding before him.

"No! No! My Athanasia! Its not me! This is all Claude's fault! It's Claude! Claude!"

Celestial jolted awake, her heart racing and her body drenched in cold sweat. She had been dreaming, a nightmare that had haunted her for years. She found herself sitting up in bed, her hand extended desperately in the midst of the air, as if straining to reach for something that was no longer there, her fingers trembling from the emotional intensity. The vivid images from her dream still playing in her mind, leaving her disoriented and panicked. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to calm herself.

"You ask me to stop drinking," Claude's voice cut through the silence of the dark room which Celestial's eyes widened upon the sudden appearance of his presence. The feeling of hatred and blaming from her dream still alive in her heart. She turned to look at him, finding him standing beside her bed with his arms folded and a stern and unwavering expression on his face. He continued to speak in a mocking tone, words digging at her.

"Yet look at you, empress." His feet make contact with one of the wine bottle on the floor, a clinking sound being heard.

"What are you doing in my room?!" With a mixture of annoyance and irritation, Celestial snapped back at the emperor, her tone sharp and filled with frustration.

It was his fault that she need to consume multiple bottles of wine today and even before. It always because of him that she suffered through out her life. The sight of the emperor taking Athanasia from her still weighed heavily on her heart, and she couldn't shake off the anxiety and unease that gnawed at her chest. So, she went for a short cut road like a coward, immersed herself in excessive amount of wine. She must passed out while drinking as some of the bluish-violet liquid managed to stain her white bed.

"Athanasia... she was a boring child. A mute. Your attempt to save her was useless" Claude stated bluntly, his gaze lingering on the empress as he meant for the exchange of his wife freedom for the sake of the child survival at the time she was born. For five years, she had been trapped within the main palace. Her feet had never even touched a single grass. Celestial's heart ached at his words, her emotions a jumble of pain and anger. Claude was a very cruel man who lacked of empathy and sympathy which just worsen the hatred she felt for this guy.

"What did you do to my Athy, you tyrant"

Celestial's voice trembled with a mix of anger and desperation. Her eyes burned with a fierce determination, her fists clenching at her sides. The mere thought of harm coming to her child made her blood boil, and she refused to back down without a fight. Her emotions were a tangled mess, a potent mix of concern, anger, and a fierce protective instinct towards her daughter.

"Huh, a tyrant," he chuckled, his voice carrying a hint of mocking. Claude took a seat beside Celestial and reached for the bottle of wine that lay nearby. "That's a very interesting name. The people call me their god but my own wife... regards me as a tyrant" He took a long sip from it, his expression nonchalant and unbothered.

"You are the one who offered to be by my side in return I let that kid alive. Don't blame other for your own decision"

Celestial's anger boiled over as she snatched the wine bottle from Claude's grasp, her temper finally reaching its breaking point. With a swift move, she flung the liquid toward his face, watching as the wine cascaded down his features and soaked into the pristine of his white robe. Claude's once nonchalant expression was instantly replaced by one of anger and wrath. His eyes narrowed as he watched the wine dripping down his face, the cold fury evident in his gaze.

"GET! OUT!" She commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. She was done with his presence, done with his callous words and uncaring attitude. The last thing she wanted was to remain in the same room as him a moment longer.

"I'm coming here in peace but Celestial, really you left me with no choice" A sinister calmness laced his words.

"Felix, bring the empress to the garden"

His gaze shifted to Felix, who stood nearby and gave a subtle nod in understanding. At Claude's command, Felix moved forward, firmly grabbing ahold of the empress and restraining her. The empress fought back with all her might, struggling against Felix's grip in a desperate attempt to break free. However, it was futile, his hold was too strong. It was evident that Claude wanted to injured her. He knew all too well about the magical restriction placed upon her. If she were to break the restriction, the electric mana would strike her.

Realising her life might be in danger, Celestial plead towards Felix, her voice filled with desperation and fear. "Felix, stop. Don't listen to Claude," she implored, her voice shaky. "Are you both trying to kill me?"

Felix appeared conflicted, torn between duty and compassion. However, he knew that he had no choice but to serve his emperor, his master's commands took precedence over any plea. He glanced apologetically at her, his expression reflecting a mixture of guilt. As Claude continued to walk ahead, Felix knew he could not defy his master's direct command. Ignoring the empress was the right choice for him in this situation as he knew Claude would never hurt Celestial.

The empress closed her eyes tightly as they reached the garden, fear gripping her heart at the sight of the infamous rose garden. When her bare feet touched the grass, she prepared for the worst but minutes passed and there was nothing. She cautiously opened her eyes. There was no electrical mana trying to attack her, instead, she could only feel the grass beneath her feet which was giving a foreign feeling.

The restriction ensured her to be chained to the main palace so when she was hunger for the taste of freedom, she would be at her balcony at night, feeling the cold air of the night, the light of the moon that made her white hair shone brightly. She was used to that feeling but not the grass that tingling her feet. This was the taste of the freedom she had yearned for.

As realization set in, her knees felt weak, she stumbled, and fell onto the ground, panting heavily from disbelief and adrenaline. Felix, tried to help Celestial to be on her feet back but Claude stopped him. The restriction that had once confined her was gone, vanished, leaving her free like she had longed for all this time.

"This is my gift for our anniversary, Celestial" Like always, he spoke with his emotionless tone. Just like that, Claude turned to walk away, leaving Celestial alone in the garden as she wailed in neither tears of joy or grief. She did not feel any gratefulness to the emperor at all.

@fluffy-koalala @happydeertraveler @sethianaa @is2sae

Chapter 6 << Previous, Next >> Chapter 8

[fortpeat]

The scene that needs to be talked about !!!

This scene has my whole heart and soul I am telling you 🥺🥺. I don't even know where to begin !

I feel like we truly forget how young Mahasamut is and that it's Tongrak who's the older one but we see a lot of patience from Mahasamut and the bratty side to Rak we truly forget that Mahasamut is just 20/21 yrs old and he is so young 🥺

(Personally I don't like calling Mahasamut as Mut coz I hate that word and if I do end up calling it's mostly through chat just coz I am lazy to type his whole name or I might just end up calling him Maha 😂. Maha means great in a lot of languages but I know it personally coz it also means great in Sanskrit!)

In this scene we start with Mahasamut telling that he has used all his lifetimes luck to have Rak with him 🥺 and one of the things I noticed is how often Maha says "someone like me" 😭😭 for all his confidence there's still a part of Maha that feels like he is not worthy of Rak's attention/affection especially when he believes that he has nothing to give in return 🥺 and when he asks Rak not to leave it came from a moment of desperation but seeing the surprise on Rak's face he takes it back believing he has no right to ask that of Rak.

The shift in their dynamics is so clear in this scene coz we see Rak acting his age by telling Maha to act his age and to just ask and he keeps caressing Maha's face and hair lovingly and I wonder if Rak even realizes hes doing that. 🥹🥹🙏

And the hesitation on Maha's face the clenched fists it all shows the battle that is going on within him that makes him want to just shut down and not ask coz this is a boy who was thrown out by his own parents at the mere age of 15 just coz he shared his love for the ocean and his creatures. He has believed that unless he is contributing useful something to the table he has no right / place to speak his mind about what he wants or needs 🥺

When he says I have nothing to offer you, I think it was very important that Rak replied back with "I want nothing from you" like it's so important Maha had to hear that from Rak. In that moment all their "transactional" jokes were nothing but dust in the air. For Rak it's a way to tell himself that this connection between them is just coz Rak is paying Maha but everyone but Rak knows that it's not true. These two yes they annoy each other, they banter and flirt but they also have these deep conversations in the middle of the night while gazing at the stars and think "why the hell did I say all that to someone whom I have known for just 2 weeks"

"If I ask and you refuse I might never dare to ask anyone again" it's true you know once we open up to someone and then when they reject or say to that part of us we might never find the courage to be that vulnerable again coz the pain of that rejection feels like a stab to our heart. It's basically telling us that this soft vulnerable part of us is not worthy of love / care. So every time after that even if we want to be vulnerable there's still a part of us that goes " what if history repeats itself again, will I be able to pick up the pieces and go through that again"

The vulnerability in Maha's face as he keeps looking at Rak and tells him that he won't prank Rak or annoy him or wake him up early 🥺 like - "I will do anything as long as you stay" and Rak replying back with "you being you is what I need" Maha needs to hear that - despite being an annoying little shit it is that very same nature that brought Rak closer to him and trust him.

Does Rak even realise how in love he looks here. The adoration and fondness his eyes convey. 🥺🥺 Their smiles when Rak agrees not to go was so cute and then the kiss attack 😭😭 (reminded me so much of Paisky I am crying more now)

MY HEART 😭😭😭 TAKE IT WILL YOU...

I want to give a standing ovation for Fortpeat coz their acting in this scene was phenomenal 😭😭 it was so so good ! Fort my baby you have brought me to tears 😭😭 (is it just me who's thinking Fort cries so prettily 🫣🫣)

This episode was so wholesome and it was everything and so much more. Fortpeat in vulnerable scenes are a league of their own !!!!