#silent answer spoilers

[umbry-fic]

new Paradise(memory = null);

Summary: She awakens from emptiness, and witnesses a God descend.

Fandom: Arcaea Characters: Hikari, Tairitsu Relationships: Hikari/Tairitsu Rating: T Word Count: 2603 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 25/06/2023

Notes+Warnings: This is a canon divergence fic that contains spoilers for Final Verdict and Silent Answer! It's basically Silent Answer Ending A but two steps to the right. It's not a happy fic, and there is no happy ending here.

~~~

Awareness tugged at the threads of her mind, sluggishly pulling her from the empty void upon which she had floated - for how long, she did not know. Back into the world of the living, where she struggled to open heavy eyelids, a whisper echoing in her head, telling her that she had to wake up.

The world that met her was far too bright, a blinding white that seared itself onto the backs of her eyelids when she screwed her eyes shut instantly, wondering if she could sink back into blissfully quiet darkness.

An icy hand closed around her heart, sharp icicles digging into her flesh, refusing to let her slip away. The whisper had sharpened into a scream, one that she knew wouldn’t go away even if she clapped her hands over her ears - it had embedded itself deep in her mind, grating against its edges.

Continuously, as if stuck in an endless loop, it implored that there was something she had to do. Surely, she must exist for some purpose, and it was her responsibility to discover what it was.

But how could she ever do that when she couldn’t even recall her name, her mind a barren expanse that yielded nothing?

“You’re awake.” The words were muttered in a quiet voice that brushed against her skin, finally quieting the maelstrom within her head. In the silence that pressed upon her shoulders, she opened her eyes once more.

Who am I? was what she wished to ask. It was a sensible question that would give her one of the most critical puzzle pieces needed to fill in the gaps.

“Are you God?” was what slipped from her instead, a girl with no name and no purpose, staring in awe at the figure looming over her.

What she had thought to be the sky revealed itself to be infinite panes of glass, rotating in place, their edges catching the light. They broke apart, gathering together to form flocks. Like birds, each with their own personalities - some skittish and skirting away, some daring and swooping through the air. All clearly under the command of the figure that was the centre of it all - a girl clad in elegant white, hair seeming to float around her knees, piercing pink eyes trained on her.

With but a single wave of the other girl’s gloved hand, all the glass seemed to lose their life, raining from the sky to fall like downed birds upon the ground below. A dizzying display of power that made her heart pound in her chest.

Something told her that if the other girl wanted, she could control this entire world - make it bend to her every whim, reshape it to her very image. Then wouldn’t it make sense for her to have created this physical form she now resided in? In the same manner that Prometheus had moulded men out of clay, before Athena had breathed the gift of life into them.

The other girl came closer, hands clasped serenely before her, her pink eyes boring into her own, sending shivers up her spine. Something lurked in their depths, something that she could not discern.

“No, I’m not.” She smiled sadly, kneeling next to her. A God, fallen from the Heavens, lowering herself to the level of mortals. Perfection, lovely in its magnificence, and equally as deadly. All that broke that image of perfection was a lone black ribbon, tied into a sloppy bunny-ear loop that drooped against the side of her dress. An anomaly that she so wished she could delve into and pull apart.

“My name is Hikari, and yours is Tairitsu.”

Every word that fell from Hikari’s lips pulled taut the invisible string that connected them, dragging her closer, close enough that perhaps they might become one. She could not help but swallow, her throat suddenly dry, utterly still as a hand cupped her cheek, stroking softly.

The spell broke when Hikari’s hand dropped to curl around her wrist, bidding her rise on wobbly legs. She rolled the name she’d been given around in her mouth, contemplating its shape. It seemed right, even if her memories were still but a blank, locked behind a door that her name did not unlock.

She gasped, as all of a sudden Hikari’s grip tightened, nails digging into her skin. Not waiting for her to start walking, the other girl stalked away, forcing her to stumble forward or suffer a painful fall.

“Let’s go.”

It was not a suggestion. It was a statement, a declaration of will that could not be shattered.

Without a word, Tairitsu followed.

~~~

Spending every moment with Hikari became her entire life. All that it was, and nothing more.

It was not a bad life to lead, not by any means. She was never alone, her and Hikari’s fingers interlocked as they wandered this strange world that was devoid of any life but their two flames, flickering lonelily.

They would sit on the edges of crumbling ruins together, staring out over emptiness, Hikari beckoning for her to rest her head in her lap. She would acquiesce, her eyes fluttering shut as a gentle hand ran through her hair.

Occasionally, Hikari would pull down a shard of glass and stretch it into a doorway, taking her hand and leading her through. Guiding her to explore memories of other worlds, bright colours that could never appear in their world of glass seeming to pop around every corner, vibrant and beautiful. Only in moments like these would the stiffness in Hikari’s shoulders fade away, the restraint that she always possessed fading away to reveal an excited child that could light up Tairitsu’s heart whenever she broke into a smile.

When night fell, they would lay next to each other on the ground, Hikari’s arm inevitably wrapping around her waist and holding her close, until she drifted away surrounded by warmth, quieting all the thoughts that swam in her head. Once morning broke, she would retie the ribbon on Hikari’s dress, chiding her for not learning to do it herself. Hikari would chuckle, whispering that she would always have someone to help her, the words never failing to bring a flush to Tairitsu’s cheeks.

It was a peaceful life. One that sorrow could not interrupt, where tragedy was but a faraway dream. It was a life that could go on, unerringly, for all eternity without interruption.

Perhaps another person would be satisfied with this. A paradise where one would be forever protected, where one’s vulnerable heart could never be broken.

Yet she could not hide behind an illusion, pushing away all the inconvenient facts she did not want to see.

Hikari never fully let her guard down, always on alert for threats that may not even exist, the shards of glass that followed her everywhere sharpening into a javelin at the most minute of sounds. If Tairitsu strayed out of her sight for even a second, Hikari would materialise right next to her, scaring the very soul out of her body. What followed would be a cold fury that Tairitsu was sure swept out across all the land, freezing the blood in her body and causing her breaths to quicken. It was a wonder that they did not crystallise upon leaving her.

Sometimes, she would awaken to Hikari watching her, that same unknown thing from before swimming in her eyes. And then her expression would shutter, returning to neutrality.

No matter what, though, any question Tairitsu attempted to voice crashed into a brick wall, making no progress. Hikari refused to answer anything, the glare she shot Tairitsu’s way enough to get her to clam her mouth shut.

And on nights when she couldn’t find the solace of sleep, the thoughts running round and round in her head intensifying to a cacophony… She would stay completely still within Hikari’s embrace, gaze fixed on the ribbon she had helped tie that very morning, a replica of the one on her own dress.

~~~

“Hikari? What do you think of the truth?” she asked, hands clasped in her lap to hide the tremble of her fingers.

“Whatever do you mean?” Hikari replied, her fingers, which had been drumming on her thighs, coming to a pause.

“Do you think the truth is the most important thing?” She pushed forward, desperately trying to ignore the terror that occupied her heart - a nasty, scaled beast that only grew stronger with each second. Despite Hikari’s claim to the contrary, she must surely hold absolute dominion over this world, able to control every facet. If such was the case, she could cease to exist at any second, if Hikari so willed it.

But she did not look away. To do so would be to admit defeat, and she could do no such thing. Not just for her own sake, but for Hikari’s sake as well.

“Wouldn’t you say happiness is the most important thing?” Hikari said softly, stilling completely. “If you’re happy, who cares about the truth?”

“I…” She bit her lip hard, tasting iron against her tongue.

“If the truth threatens my happiness, then I will not hesitate to destroy it.” Hikari’s gaze rose to meet hers. Cold and empty once more, lacking any of the gentle warmth that was usually directed at her. Glass swirled around her like a typhoon, some pieces shattering into dust beneath the weight of her rage.

The warning in those words was crystal clear.

And she heeded them, dropping her gaze, not wishing to suffer the same fate.

~~~

She needed to know. No matter what she did, the doubts, the questions, refused to quieten. Who was she, really? Why did some of these places, some of these paths, seem familiar to her? Why were there echoes of thoughts, of distant emotion? Like starbursts behind her eyes, whispers of rage that almost keeled her over, before Hikari’s caring hands brushed them all away.

And it wasn’t just for herself. She wanted to know, so that she could understand why Hikari was so shrouded in sorrow. She wished to close the abyss between them and truly embrace the other girl - soothe the pain that festered in her heart, and allow happiness to truly take root again.

She could not simply forget, could not give up the past and live only in the present, thinking not of the future, as Hikari wanted. Even if time’s flow could not be reversed, she couldn’t give up.

In the dead of night, when the world slept soundly, she untangled herself from Hikari, staring down at her sleeping form. She seemed so peaceful like this; every crease of her brow smoothed away, making her seem far more youthful.

Whispering an apology within the safe confines of her mind, unable to risk saying it aloud, she scrambled to her feet, tiptoeing a distance away before she began to move normally. Really, it didn’t matter. Hikari must be able to see across this entire world. How else did she always find her so quickly?

Her only choice was to get back before Hikari stirred. Whether she bypassed detection, whether she was caught… It mattered not. It all ended tonight.

She didn’t have a destination in mind. She simply followed her buried instinct, letting it drag her in one direction, a thread tied tightly around her finger.

It didn’t take long before her path was blocked by an invisible wall that rippled when she poked it, revealing itself to be an impenetrable wall of glass. Almost certainly set up by Hikari to hide an ugly truth behind it. The closer she had gotten, the more goosebumps had risen on her arms, nausea rolling over her as she swallowed down bile.

Pulling upon the thread that extended into herself, she focussed, gritting her teeth as she savagely tugged against the resistance barring her way. Tearing and tearing, forcing her way through sticky honey until the glass yielded to her control, a hole ripping open in the wall, large enough to glance through.

Within were the nondescript ruins of a church. The walls were crumbling, lone pillars stabbing into the sky. The roof was torn away entirely, surely in some epic struggle, random stones strewn across the ground.

Haunting, certainly, but what -

A wave of raw emotion forced her to her knees, the deluge of memories slamming into her enough to make her scream in agony, her heart feeling like it was going to rip apart. Images flashed through her mind in rapid succession - sitting in the pews of the church facing Hikari’s hopeful smile, hope that soon soured into angered desperation, a frenzied battle over earth and sky, and a sword -

The same sword that now pierced through her stomach, bringing her recollection to a screeching halt.

Reaching a trembling hand to the tip, she glanced down at her wound. There was no blood, just as there was no pain singing through her body. Only cracking glass, rippling outwards from the wound.

It answered all of her questions.

“I suppose, no matter what I do, you’ll always want to know the truth. But I cannot let you remember your hatred of me,” Hikari murmured, genuine sadness painted over her face as she let go of the sword’s grip, letting it dissolve into glass that returned to the sky. She caught her failing body, all strength fleeing from it as she collapsed.

I… I wouldn’t have…

“That’s just you, and I do love that. No matter how many times this must happen.” A gentle hand cradled her face, another reaching to undo the ribbon tied to her chest as lips brushed against her forehead.

With the last of the will she could gather, she reached out a hand that was nothing more than fractured glass, grinding together. Trying as hard as she could to cross that abyss that had divided them this whole time, now that she was so close, finally within reach…

I just wanted… To save… You…

She wheezed, unable to form the words, the consciousness that had been formed from wisps of a soul and tied in place by a fragile body made of lies beginning to escape now that its vessel had been destroyed. Dissolving into the sky, as all that she was vanished.

And then there was nothing but blissful darkness.

~~~

Awareness tugged at the threads of her mind, sluggishly pulling her from the empty void upon which she had floated - for how long, she did not know. Back into the world of the living, where she struggled to open heavy eyelids, a whisper echoing in her head, telling her that she had to wake up.

The world that met her was far too bright, a blinding white that seared itself onto the backs of her eyelids when she screwed her eyes shut instantly, wondering if she could sink back into blissfully quiet darkness.

“You’re awake.” The words were muttered in a quiet voice that brushed against her skin, imploring her to open her eyes once more.

Who am I? was what she wished to ask.

“Are you God?” was what slipped from her instead, a girl with no name and no purpose, staring in awe at the figure looming over her.

The other girl stayed silent for some time, contemplating her answer, a smile slowly spreading across her face. One that could be described as serene, if not for the terrifying emptiness that yawned in her eyes.

The shards of glass in the sky rained down like feathers, forming the wings of a glorious angel behind her, two black ribbons fluttering on the sides of her dress.

“Yes, I am.”

[darkacademiaarchivist]

"We're managing the bad guys" HOLY SHIT?!!!

[sophfandoms53]

Love that we got new angles of him and that he finally barely moved but the real question is

WHEN WILL HE SPEAK

[sleeplessvalley]

THEY TURNED UZI INTO A SYSTEM AT THE END???? WE STAY WINNING

(rambling about this more in the tags; blatant spoilers)

[yakool-foolio]

So apparently hair dying is a thing that happens in Silent Hill on one certain character, and since it’s also a thing in Rain Code, I want to ask for your Silent Ward AU, is Yuma going to:

A) be the one who has dyed blonde hair this time to disguise himself from the Peacekeepers?

Or

B) will have dyed lavender hair to match the aesthetic of his adoptive parents?

Yuma started out with blonde hair since his soul is part of Makoto's, who was born with the same hair color he has in canon. Yuma had his hair dyed lavender during the few days that Yakou stayed with Yuma when he brought him over to the WDO for protection against the Peacekeepers. Yakou was the one who suggested Yuma have his hair dyed, while Yuma decided to pick the color to feel closer to his adoptive parents despite only knowing them for a short time. The choice warmed Yakou's heart. Yuma's kept it dyed ever since then; though the longer he stays in Kanai Ward, the more his roots begin to show.

[acourtofquestions]

Hearth to hearth, the Flame of War went.

Over snow-blasted mountains and amongst the trees of tangled forests, hiding from the enemies that prowled the skies. Through long, bitterly cold nights where the wind howled as it tried to wipe out any trace of that flame.

But the wind did not succeed, not against the flame of the queen.

So hearth to hearth, it went.

To remote villages where people screamed and scattered as a young-faced woman descended from the skies on a broom, waving her torch high.

Not to signal them, but the few women who did not run. Who walked toward the flame, the rider, as she called out, "Your queen summons you to war. Will you fly?"

Trunks hidden in attics were thrown open. Folded swaths of red cloth pulled from within. Brooms left in closets, beside doorways, tucked under beds, were brought out, bound in gold or silver or twine. And swords-ancient and beautiful—were drawn from beneath floorboards, or hauled down from haylofts, their metal shining as bright and fresh as the day they had been forged in a city now lying in ruin.

Witches, the townsfolk whispered, husbands wide-eyed and disbelieving as the women took to the skies, red cloaks billowing. Witches amongst us all this time.

Village to village, where hearths that had never once gone fully dark blazed in answer.

Always one rider going out, to find the next hearth, the next bastion of their people.

Witches, here amongst us. Witches, now going to war.

A rising tide of witches, who took to the skies in their red cloaks, swords strapped to their backs, brooms shedding years of dust with each mile northward.

Witches who bade their families farewell, offering no explanation before they kissed their sleeping babes and vanished into the starry night.

Mile after mile, across the darkening world, the call went out, ceaseless and unending as the eternal flame that passed from hearth to hearth.

"Fly, fly, fly!" they shouted. "To the queen! To war!"

Far and wide, through snow and storm and peril, the Crochans flew.

[captainderyn]

Hnnnn I can’t go into specifics because I don’t trust mobile readmores and don’t want to spoil Phantom Liberty but—

YOUR GONNA TELL ME THAT AFTER EVERYTHING V WENT THROUGH, EVERYTHING SHE DID THAT THIS IS WHAT SHE GETS? The absolute angsty angsty fics brewing in my head right now are real.

I’m going to ramble a bit in the tags after spoilers tags so BE WARNED

[picaroroboto]

(/nod)

[silentspectres]

I would like to know about your disaster tiefling! Backstory, current romance, what drives them, anything youd be excited to share!

thank you for indulging me! I cannot express enough that I am like a vampire in that I have to be explicitly invited to do something, so I'm grateful

This is my disaster tiefling Mercury, they're a mephistopheles tiefling rogue (assassin specifically) and they're allergic to making wise decisions

I have a hard time grabbing good screenshots from my console sometimes so a few of these are Crunchy™ but I genuinely love the range of lighting the game has that makes them go from somewhat well-adjusted looking to mostly just glowing eyes. I'll put the rest about them under a read more!

Mercury usually sticks to decisions that will benefit themself or their friends above all else (and usually not through honest means), but they've been known to freely help children with no clear end gain. They had a great time around Mattis, the tiefling child, out-conning him. It's probably the closest to playful their group has come to seeing them be playful (save around Scratch/the Owlbear), since Mercury was using it as an opprotunity to teach the kid rogue techniques that would benefit him later from someone who's been at it for quite some time. It'd be cute if they weren't such an awful influence

Mercury's backstory is admittedly not something I've been able to work out past large overtones or some general character defining events, but they're a character that likes to keep their privacy and hold things that matter to them close, so I think it works out in the long run. They were fiery and loudly defiant against the world and its cruelty when they were younger, but as they grew older and realized that the only person they could rely on was themself, they grew more cunning, quiet, carefully composed, and discarded the intense emotions that once drove them. This change most likely came from being used + discarded by a disguised devil, and they have an extreme discomfort and distrust for devils or the Infernal as a result

I like to call Mercury a mirror - they're a reflection of the general harshness the city had on them (being a scrappy tiefling with nowhere to call home), but once they're surrounded by people who offer them kindness (Wyll/Karlach/Gale particularly being huge influences) they actually almost habitually return kindness + favors to the small group close to them. Their friends are one of the only noted exceptions, though; they still don't really do great in the empathy department otherwise

I could write several pages about Mercury's romance, BUT I'll try not to ramble too long (narrator voice: this was a lie). Mercury is romancing (spawn) Astarion + their dynamic drives me up the WALL. The two of them had a weird push and pull to their early relationship - Mercury was well familiar with the song and dance Astarion was performing when he targeted them and knew he certainly had ulterior motives, but they... truthfully, between the empty meaningless void that had become their existence and the inevitable certain death they would now be facing as a result of being tadpoled, and the fact that they could never remember a single moment in their life in which they were wanted (let alone desired by someone), they didn't care. So they let him use them and they played along as coyly as he did, fully aware that the more that they got involved with him or the others the higher the chance they might end up walking away caring. Which, unfortunately, happened.

A lot of factors contributed to changing Mercury's apathy toward the group and ultimately swayed the change to caring romantically about Astarion, almost none of which was even Astarion's doing himself. It started with Wyll, who was always kind and selfless without a second thought, who willingly chose to risk losing everything against Mizora because he'd rather stand by Karlach. And Karlach herself was easy to get along with - she cared deeply and loudly about those around her and wasted no time or consideration into treating Mercury with the same warmth as she did the others. Gale, maybe surprisingly, was the ultimate catalyst, though. He had formerly been a wizard Mercury kept at the same distance as everyone, one of the companions Mercury actually thought less often about despite traveling with him among the most, before they met Elminster along the roads to the Shadow Cursed lands. Mercury is hard to sway, but a goddess telling her most devoted follower that he only stands to make something meaningful of himself by killing himself ignited some long since extinguished anger in them - anger at the gods, anger at the world, anger at the shitty hands they and these people they're around were dealt - and Mercury drunk themself to sleep that night following the realization that fuck, this anger in place of apathy meant they cared. Astarion was next to show them a little vulnerability by letting them read his scars to him (and it drives me insane thinking about the level of trust he would've reasonably have had to have in them to turn his bare back to another rogue), revealing that he is only one part of an unknown whole, and that that unknown whole could very well be an Infernal pact. And so it goes - suddenly, Mercury was in over their head. Suddenly, they cared.

They both end up stumbling through figuring what a relationship (and even the full scope of what either of them truly want) means later, when they're both forced to face the fact whatever was between them is now real (and dangerous, Mercury reasons, because to admit they want to care and be alive means they have to invite back in all the hurt it could bring - hurt they're intimately familiar with - but they can't deny that what they have is nice.) Mercury is very much a deeply touch starved person, so they offer Astarion a lot of small, quiet moments of physical intimacy like leaning against him in camp, resting their hands on his, soft touches against his face to brush against his hair, stuff that, in general, he probably has no lasting memories of ever having. In turn, Astarion offers them a quiet sanctuary - a gentle reminder - that they have others they can lean on and rely on and that they don't have to bear their burdens alone. There's a lot of push and pull in this stage of their relationship, too, but it's less about a game they're performing and more about learning boundaries, limits, and the depths that they're both willing to admit to themselves about whatever it is they have.

By act 3, Mercury has no doubts about where Astarion stands to them, and truthfully I don't think Astarion does about Mercury either, but it's a bit harder for him to think about with certain looming disaster hanging over his head. Reasonably. He sort of lashes out the closer they get to dealing with the inevitable, not in the way he's harsh, but in the sort of defensive "I feel like a cornered animal so I'm reverting back to trying to pull the strings (new strings at that!) to use/manipulate you into doing what (I think) I want because I genuinely can't believe in a kinder future for myself" sort of way. Mercury by this point can see right through him and offers a constant, steady pressure by always pointing out "If you do this, you'll have to do a lot of difficult things, are you sure you're prepared to do that?" and by the point of the crypts, it's clear he'd be really fucked up by carrying through with it now that he's had to come face to face with both what he's done and what he stands to become by taking Cazador's power, especially after finding the scroll about the other vampire masters. So Mercury stands firm and becomes his reminder that things don't have to end in bloodshed, lashing out, and bared teeth - a lesson Mercury themself was taught by the kindness (a kindness they had always lacked) their companions (now friends) never gave up on. Their relationship is stronger for it and they're genuinely good influences on each other (somehow, Astarion has become some sembalance of the voice of reason and is a good 90% of the reason Mercury has stopped doing things with no regard to their own self preservation now) and they're both extremely well adjusted partners despite the so many issues both of them have. Who would've thought the local pair of murderers are an exceptionally sweet couple???

I have rambled for far too long and I have a thousand more things I could say about Mercury but I'll spare you because it is very early in the morning, but thank you for letting me speak a little about them!! I have a playlist and a pinterest for them if anyone is seriously further curious about them and my inbox is always open for more questions but I must sleep for now

[chaos-monkeyy]

🎨

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

Oooh I linked some stargate art for this one before but I'll also take the chance to throw a stormlight piece in here... It was hard to choose one cause I love everything lamaery does and especially everything with Dalinar, but

The part one comic from the "you cannot have my pain" scene, just. Fuck. One of my favourite scenes and the art is just incredible 😭

-

The Ask Game!

[nihiltism]

did oersted get kicked from the silent protagonist discord server :(

god I hope he did

[pennylime]

hey I saw your post about silent screams and i'm wondering if you can kinda summarize everything that happened in the canvas version? I’ve never read it and i don’t care about spoilers, I really wanna read the new one but i don’t really like stories with unhappy endings,, sorry if this is a weird ask lol

hey! not weird dont worry abt that i get where you're coming from lol

but uh, i have a lot of respect for the author and their story telling so i feel bad spoiling it a lot so im not gonna out of good conscience

BUT!!!!!

//silent screams spoilers//

i CAN tell you that i honestly have no idea if it's going to have a good ending or not. the canvas version was never finished. it does get pretty dark, and it stays pretty dark and disturbing throughout the story (it is a thriller after all). even in the recent episodes, in the originals (and canvas) version, Theo has had his vocal chords removed (the name is literally a pun lmao), is being medically experimented on, and there has been character death (not Theo). in the few episodes that has been released, it has stayed pretty true to the canvas version, albeit slightly different but that's to be expected with a reboot. who knows if that will change.

however i do believe that there will be maybe not a happy ending, but at least a satisfactory ending, judging on where the canvas version stopped.

Theo can be a brat, in fact it's almost his entire personality, but he's going through A LOT of utterly horrifying and traumatic shit rn plus his mom was treated badly in the past that led to him mistrusting and despising men that effects his character even now, so it's completely understandable imo. even though he can be bratty (sometimes justifiably, sometimes not imo), i never found myself not rooting for him and liking him as a character, which i believe is the whole point (BASED ON CANVAS VER). so i think everything will at least turn out okay, despite all the terrible things... or at least that's what im holding out hope for lol

if he dies, gets an unhappy ending or some shit i AM going to cry lmao

if you end up reading it, we'll find out together :) I highly recommend the series, like, a lot lol it's one of my favorites. you can always start reading it, and if you don't like it, there's no one telling you you have to keep reading it

[brawlqueen]

"Gently, gently. This is the most critical moment of frying an egg." Utters, trying to assist the other. "I do love a beautiful egg."

mizuki tended to take things in stride. after the complete lack of normalcy that had followed her since the beginning of her life, she couldn't say that she minded something incredibly .... normal. here in the kitchen; gloves off and uniform sleeves rolled back, memories flooding of all the times she had made the best soft eggs to a loser of a 'roommate'. she wouldn't admit it, but . . .

--- they were memories etched in fondness as much as exasperation. something she missed and felt the phantom wound of where it had begun to hurt. it almost cost her all of the detective's focus if not for orihime's gentle voice encouraging her; her approach and touches to certain cooking techniques as gentle as her voice.

" thanks. it's .... kinda been a while since i cooked, y'know? haven't had time with everything. " between her responsibilities and lack of free time, especially with this serial killing case, she couldn't say she minded at all the effusive, bubbly natured girl seeming right at home in the small kitchen of the date residence.

it filled in so much that should be there.

" i never really have done much of fried eggs, but, well, guess you got me convinced. by the sounds of it, you cook a lot, orihime . i never really have time, so this is.....kinda nice, y'know? " she isn't twelve anymore. her supernatural strength only grows with age. she was nervous the minute it fell into her palms to be placed into the cooking utensil, thinking it would shatter immediately in terrifyingly strong grip.

but it didn't. focus and a teacher on a new way to do eggs, so laughably simple as it was, made mizuki smile a bit as her heterochromatic gaze flits to hers as if for approval.

" okay, i think that was a pretty good flip! what's next? i usually just did soft boiled eggs in the morning . my ... " adoptive father. " roommate is a loser in that he never appreciated them! liked them all gross and hard and chewy. maybe he'll like fried eggs. " her eyes are bright with expectation for the next step, never imagining that the girl relaxing wantonly in the yoyagi park pool would be in her home.

" oh uh...orihime? if you cook a lot, do you..." a beat.

"would you want to do this again sometime? let's make a deal. if i make you an amazing fried egg then we make this a habit? how 'bout that? " it was awfully hard to decline a sunny smile from her, after all.

[eupheme]

— sugar, sugar

[part ii] | [part iii] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 6.5k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humor, a reference to while you were sleeping, wingman!wade and the worse way to meet someone, light angst, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, v. light ass play, unprotected PiV, appearance of The Claws, what’s a refractory period, sorta audible voyeurism (brief/humorous)

a/n: includes spoilers for deadpool & wolverine (which omg I loved - what was your fave cameo?)

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

“You gonna introduce me?”

You’ve cornered Wade in the apartment’s laundry room - the door to the front-loading washer hanging open as he holds a bundle of red fabric up to his chest.

“You think this will wash out?” 

The suit in question looks like it had been run over by a truck and then set on fire, with the rips criss-crossed in the leather and the numerous charred holes scattered across the chest.

“Definitely.” Your eyes flicker down, and then back up, “So, will you?”

He bundles the suit up - flinging into the back of the washer, the laundry basket still tucked under an arm.

“Really? Not even ‘hello, Wade’? ‘Looking good, Wade’?” His voice pitches up, imitating yours, “Does our friendship really mean nothing to you?”

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

In fact, he’s honestly the worst neighbor you’ve ever had. 

Loud, obnoxious. Persuasive - the first night you met you had been banging on his door at three in the morning, yelling at him to shut up as music and a caterwauling voice blared through the shared wall.

Ten minutes later you were playing the drums on his late night session of Rock Band, using a banana and a wooden spoon in place of sticks. Only for Althea to stomp out of her room and shut everything down, scaring both of you out of your skins.  

But sometimes, you think - remembering the times he came through for you, a shoulder to cry on, helping him this slump he’s been digging himself out of - he might just be the best, as well.

And maybe that was friendship, after all. 

You sigh, leaning against the row of washers. Eyes flicking over him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You do look good, Wade,” There’s a tilt of your head, the smile widening, “Glad you lost the toupee, that really wasn’t your color.”

“Ah, ah. Repurposed,” He chides, cupping his crotch, “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed-”

“Ew, stop.” Your face scrunches, a hand covering your eyes as you shield your vision, “Will you please just answer my question?”

He throws a handful of shirts in the washer, “Which was...?”

Your head shakes - a hand on his arm as you reach for a glint of gold in the pile of clothes. Cringing as a handgun appears, held gingerly between thumb and forefinger as you set it on the side table.

“Good call,” He nods, “Dry clean only.”

You can't help a laugh then, even as your hands brace on your hips, “I want to meet your roommate.”

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

“Jesus, Wade. Not Al." A hand waves, " I mean Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”

You’ve seen the stranger in the hallways a few times in the month since he’s moved in. Scruffy and scowling the first time, a silent shadow behind Wade’s endless chatter. 

But in the weeks following, that look had softened. You’d stopped by twice with cookies to welcome him, but every time you’ve just gotten Al.

Not that you dislike Al, that’s not it at all. She’s sweet enough to you when it’s not 3 a.m. or if Wade doesn’t have her annoyed half to death.

But you certainly weren’t harboring a crush on her. Maybe even secretly hoping that maybe the new neighbor will get a little lost and end up at your door, instead of his new place.  

“Ooh,” The syllables draw out - detergent flung in, before he’s leaning against the washer too, facing you. “Yeah, Logan. He's great, got a mean ‘Hugh Jackman’ vibe, just without the singing. You’d like him.”

Something like hope flutters in your belly, but then he’s raising a finger - wiggling it at you, “Just one question though. What’s in it for me?”

That has you scowling, “What do you mean? You owe me. I covered for you when you had that barqueue in the stairwell.”

“God, that was great sausage.” Wade groans, thinking back, “Mmm, but I think Peter covered for me.”

“Who do you think got Peter?”

“Well, I don’t remember seeing you.” He shrugs.

“I was right-,” You pinch the bridge of your nose between thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale of breath, “Fine. If you do this for me, I’ll do that thing you keep asking me to do.”

Wade gasps gleefully, “You mean you’ll make the triple decker-”

“-chocolate caramel cheesecake chimichangas. Yes.” You finish with him, arms crossing over your chest, “You’re lucky you heal fast because that should put you right into a food coma.”

“Right. Lucky me,” He smirks. A second as he thinks, before he snaps his fingers, “I’m having a little get-together tonight! You should come. Was gonna invite you anyway.”

The pounding in your head ratchets up at the thought that all this could’ve been avoided.

“Logan sleeps on the couch, though,” He adds, sagely, “So just letting you know that if the two of you decide to get your fuck on in my bed, according to the state of New York I am legally allowed to join you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” You grimace - even if you’re certain that cannot possibly be true, “But I do have my own apartment.”

“Oh, right.” There’s the faintest edge of disappointment in his tone, paired with a sigh.

You give him a sideways look, then.

“I saw Vanessa leaving yesterday. Things getting better?”

He sobers at that, eyes moving towards the sliver of a window. The glimpse of the street outside.

“Yeah.” Wade manages, “Yeah, I think so.”

There had once been a flicker of something. In-between your annoyance and exasperation, there were tendrils of tenderness. Long snuffed out, when you had seen just how banged up his heart was. How it’s always belonged to another. 

You had gotten over it. Gotten to a place where seeing him now, like this, makes you smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that.” 

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

“Hey, hold on.” Wade darts in front of his roommate, a leg kicked up high to block the doorway, “Where are you going? You can’t go out.”

Logan scowls, an arm already shoved into his leather jacket, “Sure I can.”

The blow against his shoulder might move a lesser man, but Wade’s fingers just grip the frame even tighter, “But I promised-, I got a friend that wants to meet you. There is some really important shit at stake here. I can’t let you go.”

An eyebrow cocks, “Can’t? I think we both know how that would go if you tried to stop me.”

It would be easy to get into this right here and now, but his suit is still in the dryer and he’s not about to spend another hour cleaning up blood.

“Wait, wait, wait,” He throws a hand up, “Aren’t you listening to me? A girl wants to meet you. She’s hot, she has a job, and she has an apartment. You’re only one outta three there. Can’t you see what a good opportunity this is? This is totally in your favor!”

Logan scoffs, his tongue tucking against his teeth. Hesitating for just a second, but it's enough that Wade knows he’s got him.

“I’ve met your friends,” He eventually acknowledges, “They’re good folk and all, but there isn’t anyone there I’d like to ‘get to know better’, yeah?”

“You haven’t met this one. She lives next door.”

The pause stretches longer this time. Dark eyes dart out into the hallway, and Wade can practically hear those rusted gears turning.

“Apartment 16 or 18?” Logan finally rasps, his arms crossing. 

Oh, he’s definitely got him. Just call him Wade Wilson, New York’s own personal Cupid. New life goal - get his friends laid. 

He nocks a mental arrow - aiming, and then firing with his answer. 

“18.” 

Another beat passes, and then a sigh. 

“Alright.” The leather sleeve slips from his arm, drooping in his fist.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m staying.”

Wade’s fist pumps. 

Bullseye, motherfucker. 

The apartment is packed and it’s been well past the allotted five minutes. Logan’s been nursing a beer for the last fifteen, eyes flicking over the people he’s grown to know well.

Offering a tight, half-smile when the big man claps him on the back, followed by Opposites Attract. Almost tempted to find that damn dog, just to have something to do. 

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

Starting to think this was all an elaborate prank. Some fucked up aspect of this Earth, unknown to him until now.

He’s too old for this shit. If he heads for the bedroom now, he might make it out the fire escape before anyone notices.

Logan is still entertaining this new thread of thought until he hears his name - called out over whatever fuck-face bullshit boy-band music Wade’s been playing. 

Ambiance, his ass.

The muscles of his crossed arms flex. Catching the way his roommate hauls a girl across the floor - the look of panic on her face as she tosses a container onto the nearest surface.

Wade hadn’t been lying, after all. It was Apartment 18 - that was about as much as he knew about you.

Other than the color of your eyes. The smell of your perfume in the hall. Your hair, your schedule - waking in the mornings to hear your door opening at 5 a.m., five days a week.

A baker. A damn good one, from the bits of cookie he’s snuck when no one was home. 

Had never thought to introduce himself, because he’s been through all this before. Knows better than to reach out in the first place - still nursing the old wound of heartache, one that still flares to life in his chest.

Better not to hope, or even think, at all. 

You stumble when he lets go, and Logan’s hands only curl tighter. Afraid to touch, now that you’re so close. 

A pretty young thing compared to him. This was a fucking stupid idea, his eyes darting away as Wade claps, his hands spreading wide. 

“Logan,” Wade’s tone is cordial, as if discussing the weather, “This is our neighbor, Sugar. She bakes a mean penis cake and likes emotionally unavailable men.”

A dejected sigh as he regards you, “Which is why it’s never worked out between us. I am just too available.”

Penis cake?

Logan shoots you a sideways look, an eyebrow cocked. Caught off guard by this unexpected intro, and it seems you are the same - gauging by the way your mouth drops open. 

Your face swimming with regret, as you hiss, “Oh my god. Wade. It was one time. Why do you have to put it like that?”

Wade’s smile widens, his tone still innocent, “Just skipping over the ‘getting-to-know-you’s, so you can know if you’re compatible.”

Already pivoting to face Logan with a little wink, his own scowl already deepening. Something like nerves flickering to life - as he wonders if this will all be over before it ever begins.

“And this is Logan. He’s from another Earth, is two-hundred years old, and has a metal dong.”

Jesus Christ. 

Logan’s teeth grit, before he snarls, “It’s not made of metal-”

Out of the corner of his eye, catches the curious dip of your gaze. Past the folded twist of his arms, the flannel, down to his thick belt buckle.

A knock rings out then, interrupting him from any further clarification.

“Ooh! Door,” Wade thumbs over his shoulder, “Go on now, we’ve got some good energy going here. Sugar and spice, I love it.”

A spin on his heel, and he’s leaving them alone. Silence a lingering companion for a long moment, before Logan turns.

“Nice to meet you.” He seethes, jaw working as he shoots daggers at Wade’s back. A hand extended - he’d manage that much at least.

Waiting for you to make an excuse and run, but all you do is fit your hand into his. Soft and strong and a near perfect fit.

Logan doesn’t touch people much anymore unless it’s a hand around a throat, or claws buried deep into a chest. Had almost forgotten what it was like, even if this meeting is close to his own personal version of hell.

“Nice to finally meet you, too.” Your smile is wry. Hands still clasped a moment longer, until he’s withdrawing. 

Your hands shove into your back pockets. The tilt of a head as you regard him, and he lets his eyes meet yours. 

They’re pretty, like the rest of you. Captivating even, if he could use such a word, and Wade’s words ring out in his head. 

She wants to meet you.

He’s wondering if that’s still true. Maybe you’re wondering the same, with the way you look at him. 

“So,” You begin, awkwardly - another unconscious flick of your eyes,“How does-”

“Uh-uh.” Logan’s head shakes. He’s picked up a couple things living with Wade. Never used to be a bargaining man, but he has to admit it has its uses. 

“If you wanna know, you gotta go first.” 

He hates you.

He must, with the way he’s scowling. Thighs spread wide as he sits on the couch you had gestured to, fingers in a vice grip around the bottle. No doubt plotting a dozen ways to ditch you the second he can.

Who wouldn’t, with a meeting like this? You could kill Wade, cheeks burning as you sink into the worn cushions next to him.

That is, until your knee knocks against his. The muscles in his thigh flexing - but Logan lets it rest, instead of pulling away. 

“You gonna-?” His voice is gruff, a low rasp that makes goosebumps raise across your skin. 

“Uh, sure.” Your fingers twist, “Which part did you want to hear about?”

His eyebrows lift. Those dark eyes beneath, almost a hint of amusement in them.

“Right,” The little laugh that bubbles from you is self-conscious, “Well, I don’t really like emotionally unavailable men, they just have a habit of finding me.”

His voice is low, “How would Wade know that?”

“Mm, how would he know about your-?” Your eyes flicker down for the third time, and he shifts. 

“You first.”

“Alright.” You huff, but you’re smiling now. Some of your discomfort easing. 

Logan is even more handsome than you had thought. You like the way his eyes dart away, only to come back and linger. 

It’s starting to make you think that maybe it’s not dislike that has so much of him hidden away. Maybe it’s just been a long time since someone tried to peel any of him back. 

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

“Well, he’s had to scare an ex or two away.” You shrug, “He only knows because I told him. And the cake, oh-, that was him, too.”

You turn then, to face him. A shoulder brushing the arm he has thrown across the back of the couch, a flicker in his eyes as you get comfortable beside him.

“Well, Wade had gotten ripped in half a couple years ago,” You nose wrinkles, a wave of your hand, “And it all like, has to grow back, right? It’s so creepy.”

Logan grimaces at your explanation, and you wonder if he understands. You think he must - you had thought he was like Wade, in some ways. 

Different. Special.

“Well, he uh, finished growing everything in,” You make a sweeping gesture over your lower half, “And the next year to celebrate his dickiversary, he ordered a penis cake from my shop.”

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

The heat is back in your cheeks, but you nod, “Yeah, because it like, it came back and all. And he paid in cash, I couldn’t say no.”

There’s the smallest twitch of Logan’s lips, and it feels like a victory.

“Right. What flavor was it?”

Your smile widens with relief, “Strawberries and cream. It was so good. I’ll have to make it for you sometime.”

A second before you cringe, adding, “I mean, a normal one. Not…”

He hums then, close to a laugh.  

“Sure. You do that.”

You smile, letting your shoulder bump his, “And with that… I think it’s your turn.”

The bit of humor in his expression flattens. A searching look thrown your way, before he inhales a breath.

Setting it free. 

“I’m a mutant.”

Logan waits there, as if expecting something. You only nod, thinking of the ones you know. Colossus, Ellie, Yukio, Domino. Wade. 

“Wade said you were similar to him. I had assumed-” You encourage, waiting.

“Right,” He seems relieved, some of the tension ebbing, “My powers are regenerative, like his. But unlike him, I have these-”

There’s the jerk of his wrist, and three sharp metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. Your gasp is caught in your throat as you cling to his flannel shirt - the surprise bleeding into worry. 

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex. 

“Adamantium instead of bones. All of me is like this.”

The claws sheath themselves inside him again. His wounds smoothing over seconds later, as he scrubs his knuckles across his jeans, wiping away blood. 

Offering out his hand, after. Letting your grip unwind from his shirt, and press against his skin instead. Feeling the tendons in his hand, his wrist. The skeleton beneath utterly unyielding, a weight to his limb that is so unlike your own.

“Metal…” You trail off, as pieces click into place, “I get it now. So does Wade really think there’s like, an actual bone-?”

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

You laugh then. A thought sobering you after, as a fingertip drifts up to the dip between his fingers. 

“But doesn’t that hurt?” 

It makes you wince to even think about it. Much less how casually they sprung from him, no different than breathing. 

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

“And, the two hundred years,” Another facet you put together out loud, “You’re still alive because you keep healing? Will it be that way forever?”

His hand flexes in your grip.

“Not forever. Apparently my powers will run out, at some point.” His eyes meet yours, “The Logan in this world is dead. Wade pulled me from another.”

Your brow furrows - always trying to keep up with the snippets that Wade has told you across the years - stories about time-traveling and mutants and even how he came to be. But this seems too deep. Surely Logan must be joking.

“Another world, huh?” You ask, head tilting - trying your best to roll with it, “Won’t they miss you in yours?”

Only now does his face falter. That sharp mask cracking, as his hand pulls from yours. Resting again on the back edge of the couch - his answer low and rough. 

“No. I don’t think so.”

Another jolt racks through your heart. You don’t know him know him yet, but you already can’t believe that could possibly be true. Your fingers fan out, hovering - before it folds into a fist.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply. 

The room is darker now, dim with the setting of the sun. Street lights outside pouring in a golden beam that cuts across his face. 

His eyes are hazel, you can see that now. A fading rim of green spilling into the brown, beneath the near-permanent furrow of his eyebrows. 

Yours caught in the glow of the flamingo string lights that curl out from the kitchen, stapled to the walls.

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly. 

“Let me ask you one more thing.” 

“Sure. You know some of my worst secrets already.” You smile, a shoulder lifting.

His hand twitches, where it rests near your shoulder. The tip of a finger ghosting against skin.

Just the slightest brush but it feels like it radiates out, lingering after.

“Why’d you tell Wade you wanted to meet me?” 

His voice is still low, rough. But it’s lost that sharp edge. The combination has your stomach tied up in knots, suddenly more nervous that you’ve been the whole night.

Surely he must know? 

“Well…” You hedge. It’s your turn to look away, but then there’s the brush of his fingers again.

“Because I did want to meet you.” You admit, “You, you seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. In whatever capacity you’d like.”

“Is that right, Sugar?” Logan husks, and the nickname sounds even sweeter on his tongue, stealing your breath.

All you can do is nod, as his eyes darken. 

Voices rise behind you, ripping you out of this little bubble you’ve found yourself in. Nearly forgetting just how many people are here, how many eyes have been glancing your way since you’ve arrived.

“Not strip poker Wade, please.” The rough rumbling plea of Colossus’s voice rings out above the others, “You never wear anything under the suit-”

You didn’t even realize when he had changed, but he had - patches of bare skin on his ass showing through the holes. Your nose scrunches, before you turn back to realize that Logan’s eyes are still on you.

Dropping when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - your words coming out in a soft hush. 

“You want to get out of here?”

You want him. You can only hope that he might just want you, too.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s strange to have someone like Logan in your space. You can remember the last time you’ve wanted someone here.

His fingers still entwined with yours, from where you had reached back for him. Leading him through the dim corners of the room.

Thinking you had made it, only for the rousing cheers to rise when you had cracked the door open to slip through.

His grip tightening when you made to tug your hand free, in an urge to press it against burning cheeks. Letting you fumble with one hand, to open the lock next door.

It’s quieter here. A low echo of the music next door, as the darkness wraps around you again.

Here, his fingers move, but it’s only to skim up your wrist. To tug you between him and the front door, until your back presses against it. 

His nose brushes yours as he steps into your space, your lips already parting. Holding himself there for a moment, inhaling the scent of you as his arm braces above your head.

Leaving you to be the one that closes the gap. The tilt of your head and the press of your lips against his.

A rough hum when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. His hand gripping at your waist, pulling your hips against his.

Tugging and pushing. A messy path from the front door through the small living room - a mirror-image of the apartment next door.

Through to the bedroom, wandering hands and the brush of his tongue against yours as he deepens the needy kiss. Until his knees are hitting the edge of your bed, and he’s letting you nudge him back onto the mattress.

He brings you with him - your hips cradling his as you settle yourself astride him. Hands flatten against his chest as you rock down - drawing a rough, mumbled “fuck”.

Grinding yourself down where he’s hard, the curve of his cock straining against his jeans. Letting your hands follow, as his own cup your ass. Squeezing, before slipping to press the heel of his hand against the seam at your clit.

You moan into his mouth, as your fingers curl around him. Eyes blown wide when you pull back, scooting your hips down. 

It’s here that he comes back to himself. 

Going tense as you fit yourself between his thighs, fingers at this belt as the other still cups him.

“You shouldn’t want this.” He rasps, those eyes glinting in the dark, “A man like me. You know that, right?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, so he can see your expression. So you can see the way his jaw grits, nostrils flaring. 

It’s a warning, wrapped up in silk. A last ditch effort to scare you away - knowing that once he has you, he won’t want to stop.

Your fingers slow - his zipper half-undone, baring skin and a dark shadow of hair beneath. 

The other pulling away, “You want me to stop?” 

He catches your wrist, jerking your hand back. His hips bucking into your palm, grinding himself into your touch. 

“The last thing I want to fucking do is stop.” It’s almost a growl, “But on my Earth, I-”

You sigh then, impatient, “Logan, this Earth isn’t all that great either. I lost five years of my life to the blip.”

He frowns, not understanding - but your head shakes as you continue, “I’m tired of being too scared to take chances. I’ve been trying to live each day to the fullest, and I’d like to end this one with you.”

And out of everyone - Logan knows a little something about second chances.

“Yeah,” He manages - the grip of his fist leaves you, “Yeah, okay.”

"Thank you,” You answer primly, just as you finish yanking the zipper down. 

His hand beats you in the race to ease himself out, fingers curling around the base. You can’t help it - you inhale a breath at the sight of him.

Heavy, with the way the flushed tip bobs in his grip. Thick enough that you’re already wondering if you’re going to be able to take him. 

The huff he makes turns into a groan as you start small - engulfing the leaking head with your lips. The first inch turns into another as his hips lift, feeding his cock into your waiting mouth. 

Only when he’s halfway inside you, bumping against your throat, does his hand drop. Letting you replace it with your own - squeezing, as drool slicks up his shaft. Your head bobbing in time with the twist of your fist.

That brief hesitance is quickly forgotten. Fingers brush at your cheek, curling around the base of your head as he guides you.

Leaving you eager for more. Another hissed groan when your mouth leaves him, your hand loosening as you strip your clothes away.

“Oh fuck yes,” He coaxes, when he realizes what you’re doing, “Let me see you, baby.” 

Your shirt and pants left to pool on the floor. A second of boldness as you unclasp your bra next, leaving you in your panties as you focus on his cock again. 

A bitten-back moan when your tongue slips across his swollen shaft - an low throb between your thighs as you rub them together, clenching around nothing. Resisting the urge to slip your hand beneath the hem to ease the ache. 

Instead, your keep your hands on him. Goosebumps raising as your nails scratch against the deep v of muscle at his hips. The others working him into your mouth, as he slowly comes more undone. 

His hips flex with each bob of your head, lips parted as he pants. The words a rough mumble, becoming almost desperate. 

“That’s it sweetheart.”

Another moan when you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, “Oh fuck, gonna fill that pretty mouth.”

His hand cups your jaw, holding you steady as he bucks into your mouth. Those dark eyes fixed on you in wonder, all that pretty skin bared for him to touch, to taste. He’s mesmerizing like this - the weight of gaze. Jaw slack with pleasure, eyes aflame.

You did this to him. 

It sends something warm flooding through you, as his eyelashes flutter. The tipping back of his head, muscles ticking in his cheek as his teeth ground down. 

A sound still slips between them, as he floods your mouth with the next flex of his hips. Pulsing between your lips as you swallow him down, a choked sound ripping from his chest when you cup his sack to gently squeeze out every last drop. 

Logan melts into the mattress after, an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. His gaze focusing on you when he feels you squirm - dark, and hungry.

A lithe stretch of muscles as he moves - legs easing from beneath you. 

“Hands and knees,” He commands, head tipping towards the bed next to him, as he rolls off. Kicking off his jeans as you listen, watching over a shoulder as the flannel and white tank underneath joins your clothes on the floor.

Your eyes widen at how toned he is - muscles rippling, the bed dipping as he fits himself behind you.

His broad hand at the small of your back, pushing your torso down against the mattress. A pleased hum then, fingers trailing just along the elastic edge of your underwear.

“Could smell how much she needed this.” The tips of two press against the damp fabric between your thighs, making you gasp, “Even next door. You want it that bad?”

It should be embarrassing that he could tell how much you desired him, but at the moment all you can think about is him touching you more.

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

“So fuckin’ polite,” The fingers withdraw; but only so his nose can replace them. A ragged inhale, just before his tongue drags against your clothed slit.

A groan against your skin as you cry out, before a finger hooks around the fabric, baring you for him to taste.

The heat of his tongue flattens against you - lapping at where you drip with need, a rough rumble in his chest. 

“Sweet, too.” Another flick of his tongue, “Your name. ‘s fitting.”

You can’t manage words. Only his name, muffled against the sheets as your fists twist in them. Back arched as you resist the urge to grind yourself against his tongue, as it flicks against your clit.

It’s messy, how he eats you. You don’t think you’ve even had someone take you like this. Hungry, desperate even, as he devours you. The rumble of a groan against your cunt as his tongue delves inside you, stretching you open. Letting your slick smear into his beard, with how close he presses his mouth.

That need inside you thrumming. Winding tighter as he yanks your panties down your thighs. His palm flattening against your ass, holding you open as he licks you from clit to hole, then higher. Humming as you squeak, when his tongue flattens against your tight rim. 

A thick finger nudging against you then, as his tongue dips back to your clit. There’s no resistance as it slips deeper, into slick walls that clamp down around him.  It’s what you needed - that little bit more.

Unable to help rocking into the crook of his finger now. Whining when a second joins it, spearing deep and curling. Dragging against your walls, loud and wet and filthy with each plunge. 

Your whimpers only grow louder. Needier, as his lips wrap around your clit. Fingers pounding deep, stretching you out. Leaving you babbling, your words slipping together. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” Tears prick at your eyes, each breath a rattling gasp, “Oh my god you’re gonna make me come-”

He has you gushing, with the next flick of his tongue. A pleased groan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, hearing the wail that is muffled into your pillows. That sharp pace slowing, his thumb replacing his tongue to draw your orgasm out until your legs are shaking. 

His fingers sticky when they pull from you, only to slip between his lips - tongue curling around his knuckles, sucking them clean.

It leaves you floating above yourself. You can’t remember ever coming this hard, even by yourself. Only the tintest thread of disappointment as you drift, and it’s only that you won’t get the pleasure of his cock filling you tonight.

You would’ve liked to see what he can do with the rest of him. 

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

But he moves behind you, instead. His knee pressing against yours, spreading your legs further. The rhythmic shuffle of skin against skin, as his hand slips from between his lips to fist around his cock. 

“Tell me I can fuck you.” It’s not a plea, not with the harsh rasp of his voice. But it’s as close as you’ve heard, as he swipes the tip against your leaking pussy.

Smearing your slick on him, teasing at your waiting hole.

You don’t know how he’s hard again, but at the moment you really don’t care. Not sure if you’ve ever felt a need like this, your back arching further as you present yourself to him. 

A twist of your neck, so your eyes can meet his. 

“Fuck me, Logan.” 

He groans, broad hands squeezing at your ass. Slipping up to sink his fingers into the flesh at your hips. Holding you steady as he lines himself up. 

Your breath held, when you feel his cock start to breach you - muscles stringing tight.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He grits out, though not unkindly, “You can take it.”

Trying to hold himself back from filling you with a single thrust, with the way you’re already gripping him.

Easing himself into your heat. Two inches forward and then one back, and with each one you think you’ll feel the press of his thighs against yours. A low whine as your cunt makes room for him, that sharp stretch as it feels like he’s reaching into your belly.

Feeling full when he finally is flush, the weight of his sack kissing against your clit. His shoulders following the curve of your back, as a hand slips up to plant next to your head.

“Feels fucking incredible,” It’s mumbled against your skin, almost as if it hadn’t meant to say it. 

“Mm,” You grin, your face tipping up to his, “Should’ve met you weeks ago.”

He smirks, a low sound in his throat as his mouth presses to yours. Starting a slow rhythm that drags his cock against your walls. Slipping until he’s halfway out, only to sheath himself again. Pushing the air from your lungs as he flattens himself, knees digging into the bed as your thigh spread wider - forcing him deeper.

It’s almost too much. 

You hand shoots out, reaching. Wrapping around his wrist, nails biting against his skin. 

It feels like he’s surrounding you. Each thrust a heavy weight that presses you into the bed. Splitting you open, until all you can do is squirm beneath him.

That pressure in your belly building again, as his hips pound. His breath, hot and panting in your ear as he chases his own end.

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

His tendons flex under your grip. Knuckles pressing flat against the sheets as he makes a rough sound in his throat. 

Those claws unsheathing with his next thrust. Punching down into your mattress. Anchoring as he loses himself to the feel of you beneath him.

How tight and wet and warm you are, your arousal still sweet on his tongue. Fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your throat, as everything tightens up inside him.

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, rasped out. 

“Come in me,” You whine, “Wanna feel you.”

He does growl then, at the thought of filling you to the brim, until he's leaking out of your pretty little pussy. Hips snapping faster, pinning you to the bed as he ruts into you. Each squeak of the bed paired with the sharp rip of fabric as his claws dig in. 

Feeling how your body strings tight beneath him, how you clench down in anticipation. Wanting to feel you once more, before he gives in to his own desires.

“Come on, baby,” It’s hushed, murmured against your skin, “Fuckin’ give it to me-”

The sharp point of a canine scraping against your skin, his groan rough and throaty in your ear. 

Your fingers work down to wedge themselves between your thighs. The tips brushing where you’re speared open, before circling your clit like his tongue had.

He has you mindless. Fucked out - that soft glow from your earlier orgasm shining bright as he tips you towards a second.

Burning at that tightly wound thread inside you, until the ends fray, and then snap. 

It has you coming with his next thrust. A wail ripped from you as he buries himself deep, feeling the way your pussy clenches down around him. 

Fingers still swirling, drawing out the deep pulses that fan out from your core as your toes curl, vision going hazy.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He rasps, those sharp thrust slowing to a sloppy grind, “Make a fucking mess for me, there you go-”

Panting, as he groans. Another roll of his hips before he’s coming with you - teeth bruising skin as they sink into your shoulder. The sound he makes is broken as he spills into you, muscles clenching with each pulse that paints your walls.  

Marking you thoroughly with teeth and come, the saw of his hips slowing until you both finally go still. A breath finally caught. 

Blissed out, when he rolls you both to the side. His thighs still mapping yours, cock still notched deep. A thick arm thrown across your waist, his breath ragged in your ear as he catches his breath.

Your fingers drift, as you bask in your afterglow. Dipping into the rips in your mattress, knuckle deep.

There’s a grunt as you wiggle, the words low in your ear, “I’ll get you another, sweetheart. Just lost control for a moment.”

The thought doesn’t bother you as much as you’d think. In fact, you wouldn’t mind if happened again.

Only as your imagination runs wild, do you hear the muffled moan from the brick wall behind you.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise. 

A beat - before you hear mumbled protesting. The voice of someone talking with their mouth full, “No. Back the fuck off Peter, I’m not going to share.” 

Eating. The fucker was eating his end of the bargain, ear pressed to the wall.

The next louder, “Alright, pay up everyone, Operation ‘Get Sugar Some Sugar’ was a success!”

You grimace, eyes rolling. Logan grunts behind you, the words mumbled out sleepily.

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

There’s a faint “they already tried that!” before Logan’s fist bangs on the wall, shutting him up.

But you can’t help the smile. Your fingers fitting between the ones that rest just below your breasts, squeezing.

“He’s not so bad,” You admit, “Wade, I mean.”

Logan groans, “Don’t say his name while I’m fucking you.”

“You’re-” You start - but then you can feel him.

Still hard - as his hips cant slowly against yours. Your joined hands slip up to cup a breast - as his lips press against your neck, stubble scraping you skin.

“Again?” You breathe, disbelieving that he’d be up for a third time - your hips rocking back to meet his. The sound lewd with how he drips from you - but it only has him grinding himself deeper, “You sure you’re two hundred?”

“Regenerative powers, sweetheart.” Logan husks, the flash of teeth with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t say it doesn’t come with perks.”

I used to have the biggest fucking crush on wolverine, haha - so fun to watch a new movie with him!! 👀💕 thank you so much for reading! And please me know if you'd like to read any more for him! (like more one-shots,etc!)

[yakool-foolio]

In Silent Ward AU, what kind of supernatural abilities does Yuma have, if he does have any?

And does anybody know about his abilities like his adoptive parents or the WDO?

Yuma's supernatural abilities inherited from Makoto are a lot more subtle due to the split in power. Before re-entering Kanai Ward, Yuma has no idea that he has any powers, so they remain dormant. And since the WDO in this AU has no supernatural detectives (other than Vivia who was cursed by Shinigami), they aren't any the wiser either.

Once Yuma arrives in Kanai Ward, getting closer and closer to where Makoto lies, his power begins to show itself. Much like the other half of his soul can, Yuma is able to warp reality depending on his mental and emotional state, though not as strongly as Makoto. Calling upon Shinigami also allows him to have visions of events seen through Makoto's eyes in his sleep.

Yakou and Yonaka were unaware of Yuma's powers since they had no idea who or where he originated from. However, Yonaka does start to get a hunch that Yuma isn't quite what he seems as they delve deeper in Amaterasu Corp's history involving the cult and Makoto. She knows something the others don't as a former employee at the company.

[kaiijo]

ok. bllk and jealousy rate. how jealous can they get over their gf and what do they do to cope lmao

HOW JEALOUS IS HE? — [BLUE LOCK]

characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, oliver aiku content: gn! reader (request says gf but reader is gender neutral) notes: some of these are lowkey toxic, minor spoilers for kunigami’s character arc, nagi is taller than reader

most jealous: bachira, rin, reo 

bachira meguru ✶

bachira has many, many insecurities. growing up isolated and without many friends, he is more possessive of those he’s close to, which obviously includes you. he just doesn’t want to lose you, which manifests itself in jealousy over anyone he perceives as a threat to your relationship

bachira gets really clingy when he’s jealous. he thinks that inserting himself into the situation, sometimes literally wedging himself between you and the other person. he usually chooses to drape himself over you, nuzzling into your neck and speaking low enough that only you hear, trying his best to divert your attention. third-wheeling is pretty uncomfortable for the other person, especially with the smiling sneer bachira’s shooting at them, so they make a quick irish exit 

itoshi rin ✶

an egoist to his very core, rin can get very jealous. while he’s very sure of himself in nearly every other part of his life, he knows that he is not an ideal partner a lot of the time, though he’ll never admit it. he’s not the most expressive or the most patient, and he’s sure that there are better partners for you out there. 

when rin’s jealous, it’s a silent but deadly thing. like when he’s locked in on the ball in a game, his focus you and his ‘competitor’ is unwavering. he stalks over to stand behind you, his chest bumping right up against your back, and he snarls, “what the hell do you want, you mediocrity?” usually the other person backs off after seeing rin’s bone-chilling glare but if they’re bold enough to answer back, rin bares his teeth and is poised to strike. it’s probably best if you diffuse the situation quickly before it gets uglier  

mikage reo ✶

we already know how jealous reo was over nagi so it’s safe to say that he’s definitely very jealous. having been bored with the world and other people for so long, he’s thrilled when you two get together. it makes his very protective of you and he wants to be one of the most, if not the most, special person in your life. 

reo can go a couple of ways when he feels jealous over someone else but it think his primary response is to tear down the person methodically. he tilts his head a little, looks the person up and down, and notes everything about their appearance — hair, skin, clothes (including brand and cost) and criticizes every little thing. it’s a strategic move in his opinion, using observational skills and knowledge he had given his upbringing to pick apart the other person. he also might make some underhanded comment that includes that he has a black card 

less jealous: isagi, kunigami, sae 

isagi yoichi ✶

he definitely gets jealous from time to time but he doesn’t feel the need to act on it a lot. he’s pretty mature and for the most part level-headed (plus his ability to piece together future events helps him keep his cool a lot). this doesn’t mean that he isn’t jealous 

when isagi is jealous, he’s sulky. he won’t take immediate action and watch from afar, arms crossed and a little pouty. he tries to look as dejected and as ‘wet-cat pathetic’ as possible to make you feel bad and come over to comfort him. when you inevitably do, looping your arm through his and kissing his cheek, he can’t help but smirk at the other person like a cat who go the cream 

kunigami rensuke ✶

i debated where to put kunigami since there are ‘two sides’ to him — pre- and post-wildcard. pre-wild card kunigami is definitely a lot less bothered; he trusts you 100% and is 100% confident and secure in your relationship and himself. post-wild card kunigami is less chill and more forceful. he’s not a hero anymore but even as he plays a more ‘villainous’ role in soccer, he won’t cross that line in your relationship. he’s still very secure in you and himself, but he’s more protective of your relationship. definitely a ‘i trust you/us but it’s other people i’m worried about’ kind of guy

when pre-wild card kunigami got jealous, he won’t act in the moment and will talk to you about it afterwards, in a private setting. open lines of communication were important to him and working out problems like this. post-wildcard kunigami is all stormy looks and intimidation. like rin, he also stands behind you but in less actively aggressive way and more just to be threatening. it’s 95% effective and the 5% of times it doesn’t work, kunigami is not above muscling the other person away 

itoshi sae ✶

i thought about putting sae in the ‘most jealous’ section but i just think that he is someone whose jealousy simmer just beneath his apathetic surface. he sees most other people as beneath him and believes that they are not worthy of speaking to you, let alone hitting on you, but because he’s sees them as so beneath him, he can’t be bothered half the time to do anything since they’re simply not worth it. he gets the most jealous when it’s people who he can potentially view as equals, like other professional athletes 

when he’s jealous, sae literally just pretends they don’t exist, only talking to you. if the other person tries to interject, he sends them a sideways glare — the only acknowledgment of their existence — and then turns away to continue whatever conversation, suggesting that you both get away from the other person as quickly as possible. if ignoring the person doesn’t work, sae doesn’t shy away from spewing vitriol at the other person

least jealous: nagi, oliver, michael

nagi seishiro ✶

simply put, being jealous is a hassle to nagi. it makes him too hot and too annoyed for him to want to feel it so he suppresses the feeling a lot. nagi’s height is already intimidating enough for most people so they don’t approach you when they see you two together but that isn’t a deterrent to everyone

when nagi gets jealous, he does one of two things: just gives a thousand-yard stare that freaks people out or he gets whiny and clingy. his stare is eerie and silent, and the lightness of his eyes doesn’t help it. he towers over you like some cryptid companion. when he gets whiny and clingy, nagi tugs at your sleeve and asks drily, “can we go yet? why are you still talking to them?”

oliver aiku ✶

sigh… oliver is undoubtedly someone who thinks and knows he’s the shit. with so many women and men alike fawning over everything about him, his ego is through the roof. he has very little worry about you leaving him for someone else. honestly, he finds it amusing most of the time when someone attempt to draw you away from him, and let’s it play out a lot for his own entertainment. of course, he’ll intervene if it’s making you uncomfortable but he also believes you can handle yourself 

when oliver gets jealous, he acts as casual as possible. he’s friendly towards the other person and but it’s not hard to uncover that it’s all fake, whether it’s from the glint in his eye or the way his smile is stiff and forced. common tells when he gets jealous is that he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek or he clenches his teeth and inhales softly but sharply.  he employs the good old tactic of calling the other person the wrong name and making all kind of underhanded comments that slowly chip at their nerves. (“haruya? haruki? oh! you’re haruto! right, right, you know, they’ve never mentioned you before! crazy, huh?”) 

michael kaiser ✶

kaiser in german literally means ‘emperor,’ and it’s no secret that kaiser views himself as one. similar to sae, he see himself as so above others that he’s not even bothered by other people hitting on you. it displeases him greatly, sure, but these cockroaches will never be able to steal you from him so why should an emperor deal with the plebians? the only time that ever happens is when a peasant is particularly forceful and then, kaiser intervenes

when he gets jealous, kaiser puts on a show. if there’s one thing about him, he’s a bit of a drama queen. he will absolutely posture and puff out his chest at the offending person, looking down his nose arrogantly and smirking. he makes a big display of wrapping himself around you, gripping firmly at your hips and saying, “liebling, you’re very charitable to entertain this insect, but it’s time to end this ruse.”