#sooooo about six months

[preseriesdean]

i have officially watched all 327 episodes of supernatural 🏅

[alsaurus-loves-dean]

.

[evenstarfalls]

Just remembered wwdits ends this year nobody touch me

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Real Man"

Older Au Chapter 3.

THIS IS A MATURE STORY. IT HAS SOME SEXUAL SENCES, IF YOU DONT LIKE DON'T READ. Ok yall ik i said i was gonna post this last night but i hated it so i rewrote it! if it sucks don't say anything pls. sorry if it's repetitive, lmk whose team ur on!!! And what you want to happen next. comments, reblogs, likes and kind asks are always appreciated. If this one random anon keeps sending theses crazy things, i'll have to remove anon asks, which I dont want to do. I love my anons, so pls be nice. Send in asks, I miss yall, I've been sooooo busy with school lately and I havent had time to get on here. THIS IS MY 1ST TIME WRITNG ANYTHING LIKE THIS SO LMK HOW IT ISSSSS

WHY AM I GETTING THE FEWLINF EVERYONE HATES THIS??? IM ABT TO DELEYEB TS NGL 😭

Six months had passed since that night—the night you let Slade’s words sink into your skin like venom and made the choice that changed everything. For better and worse.

You hadn't accepted his offer easily. Not after what happened with Two-Face. That betrayal still sat in your chest like a dull ache, a constant reminder of how easily people could take what they wanted and leave you with nothing. You had sworn not to trust so easily again, not to let yourself fall into another cycle of being used and discarded. So when Slade made his offer, you hesitated.

"You're smarter than this," you had told yourself that night. "You know what happens when you trust the wrong person. You know what men like him want."

And yet, here you were. Living in his world.

Not as a prisoner, not as a puppet, but as something more. The lines were blurred, shifting with every glance, every order he gave that you didn’t question, every moment that stretched too long in the dim glow of your shared space. Because that’s what it was now, shared.

The apartment Slade had set up was far from a safe house. It was huge and spacious, Slade wasn't a cheap man. It felt lived in. Your things mingled with his, your scent lingering in the air. You bought vases and filled them with flowers, you organized the kitchen and bought him real groceries, not just canned food. You hung pictures you developed of you and him. Ones he didn't know you took. You roped him into painting your room a baby blue, a color he swore he hated, yet he still slept in your room every night. It was comical to see such a large man laying in a pastel colored room on your floral bedsheets, the last man you let into your bed was equally large. But we don't talk about him.

Slade cared for you deeply, or at least tolerated you. At first you were always at each others throats, each person throwing a more cutting remark than the other. When your arguements got so bad that you began to ignore him, he brought home women, made sure he heard them moaning through the walls till you snapped and began screaming.

You hated Slade Wilson

But after the first month things began to change, Slade never said anything about it, but you caught the way his eyes would darken when he returned from a mission, his gaze sweeping over you like he needed to confirm you were still here. Like he expected you to disappear.

You leaned against the counter, watching him from the corner of your eye as he cleaned his weapons. The rhythmic motion of his hands, the way he handled each blade with the kind of care most reserved for something fragile, it was almost mesmerizing. Everything he does is.

“You’re staring,” he said, not looking up. God, he's so smug.

You scoffed. "No, you are. I don't stare at creepy old men. In fact, it's usually the opposite."

His lips curled into that knowing smirk, the one that made something tighten in your chest. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

The nickname used to irritate you. Now, you weren’t sure what it did. All you knew was that it made your heart race the way only one person had before. He used to call you sweetheart too.

Slade’s presence in your life was suffocating, an unshakable force that wrapped itself around you, squeezing tighter with every passing day. He was cruel in the way he trained you, brutal in his expectations. If you failed, he had no patience for it. Slade trained you for greatness and he wouldn't tolerate anything less.

“You call that a punch?” he sneered one evening in your early days of training, after you had barely managed to land a hit on him. “Pathetic. I’ve seen senior citizens put up more of a fight,"

Gritting your teeth, you launched at him again, only for him to sidestep effortlessly. A sharp pain bloomed across your ribs as he shoved you down, hard. The thing that you loved and hated most about Slade was that he treated you like an equal. He didn't see you as his younger, fragile, kind-of girlfriend; he saw you as an equal opponent.

“You hesitated,” he said, standing over you. “That hesitation will get you killed.”

You spat blood onto the mat and glared up at him. “Or maybe I just don’t care if I live or die. Nothing is ever really this serious.”

Something flickered in his eye, dark and unreadable, before he crouched beside you. His fingers dug into your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. He didn't understand your humor sometimes, considering he's old enough to be your father.

“Oh, but you do, you want to survive. To be great, ” he murmured, voice dangerously soft. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

He let go of you with a sharp shove and stood. “Get up. We’re not done.”

The tension between you both had only grown over the months. Slade had a way of pressing in, invading your space without ever needing to touch you. Sure you guys fucked almost twice, sometimes three times a week, but there was that small sliver of confusion and hesitation.

Sure, he slept in your bed ever night now, called it "our room," and sure you stayed up waiting when his missions would take too long. Yeah, you would run and jump into his open arms, feeling nothing but content as he kissed your forehead and took you to the bed, it's normal that ya'll didn't even have sex some nights, that you just cuddled.

Sometimes, you swore he was waiting, waiting for you to be the one to close that final inch between you. But you never did. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

Instead, you fell into a rhythm. Training. Fighting. Learning with him and laughing with him. He pushed you harder than anyone ever had, demanding perfection, never letting you slip back into old habits. He didn’t coddle you like they did. He didn’t pretend you were something delicate. He made you strong.

Most nights, after an exhausting day of training, you would sit on the brown leather couch cuddled up to him with your head on his chest and his arms around you, the dim glow of the television flickering between you. Slade wasn’t much for small talk, you talked enough for the both of you, but the silence between you felt... comfortable, almost warm

“Why did you take me in?” you had asked once, voice barely above a whisper.

He had taken a slow sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. “Because I saw something in you,” he finally answered. “Potential. Something you’re too afraid to admit to yourself.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but deep down, you wondered if there was truth in his words. You liked that he believed in you, no one had done that before.

Then there were the other moments. The ones that made your chest tighten in ways you didn’t want to acknowledge. The way he stood too close when showing you how to hold a blade properly, his breath warm against your skin. The way his hands lingered too long when correcting your stance. The way his gaze dropped to your lips before he forced himself to look away.

Neither of you ever acknowledged it. You weren’t sure if you wanted to. It's completely normal for your teacher/mentor/enemy to sleep in the same bed as you every night. It'd be weird if you didn't make breakfast and dinner for the two of you. It'd be weird if you didn't know his favorite foods and if he didn't know how to braid your hair. It'd be even weirder if he didn't make you coffee exactly how you like it and help you put away the dishes.

Slade had become an inescapable presence, his control over you extending far beyond training. He knew where you were at all times, had a way of appearing when you least expected it, his eyes always sharp, always knowing. Some nights, when you tried to slip out for air, you’d find him already outside, leaning against a wall as if he’d been waiting for you. He let you do what you wanted, think you were free, but he was always watching you.

If you were singing at a bar, you could count on him to be in the crowd. If you met with Selina at a restaurant you could count on him to drive you home. Slade was always there. Selina thought it was strange, you took comfort in it.

“You really think you can go anywhere without me knowing?” he had mused once, a shadow of amusement in his voice.

It should have bothered you. Maybe it did. But part of you had started to crave it, the way he made you feel like you belonged to him, even if neither of you would ever admit it.

Slade had been… watchful lately. More than usual. He came back late from missions, missions he didn't let you come to, sometimes with a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before. He was hesitant to let you go and preform at bars, sometimes convincing you to just play the songs on your guitar in the living room and run your fingers through his hair as you both laid on the couch.

There were the calls—brief, coded. You were offended, Slade told you almost everything these days but somehow no amount of sweet talk and bedroom eyes could get him to budge this time. And then there were the other things. The subtle shifts in the city’s underworld. More movement in Gotham than usual. The quiet whispers of old ghosts stirring, names you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

Dick. Jason. Tim. Damian. Bruce.

You saw it in the way certain streets had too many eyes. As if waiting. As if listening.

And then there was the whisper of something else. Something darker, something clawing at the edge of your awareness. A name that had once sent a thrill through you, now only bringing unease and resentment.

Harvey Dent.

A name you hadn’t spoken in months, yet it clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t shake. A man you couldn't bare to even think of. A drink left for you at a bar you hadn't performed at in weeks, a coat draped over the back of a chair that looked too familiar.

Slade noticed before you did. “You’ve got a ghost,” he murmured one evening, the flicker of a knife between his fingers. “One that doesn’t know how to stay buried.”

You didn’t ask him what he meant. You didn’t have to. You already knew. You just didn't know why. Had he finally seen through Tiffany, now that it was too late?

At first, you didn’t question it. Slade had always been territorial—watchful, overbearing when he wanted to be. He had a way of controlling things without seeming like he was. That was how he worked.

So when you first noticed the shifts, you didn’t react. Your schedule changed, but not because you changed it.

You used to go out when you wanted. Walk the streets when they were quiet, feel the Gotham night press against your skin, the air cold and sharp. Not anymore.

Things began to change this week. Now, every time you thought about leaving, something stopped you.

The fridge was always stocked, eliminating any reason to step outside. Your favorite food. Your favorite drinks. Little things appeared when you needed them; new clothes, supplies, anything that might have made you leave for even a moment. Things you mentioned only in passing, like the new lipstick you wanted or a pair of vintage heels or a new bag.

If you reached for your coat, Slade would speak before you even touched the door. Asking where you were going, trying to be casual.

It was never a command. Never outright control. But the implication was there. And every time you hesitated, he won. If you needed to leave or just wanted to go out, he would come with; a silent yet protective figure always in the shadows.

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that should have been peaceful but wasn’t. The apartment smelled like old wood and gun oil, the faintest trace of smoke lingering from Slade’s cigar earlier. You had just stepped out of the shower, skin still warm from the heat, hair damp as you walked barefoot across the floor in your towel.

Your hand brushed against the pretty golden door knob absentmindedly.

And then you froze. Something was different.

Your fingers curled around the lock, tracing over the new ridges, the reinforced structure. The weight of it felt wrong.

It wasn’t your lock. Not the cute one you insisted on buying at the antique shop that Slade hated. It didn't match the walls.

Your stomach twisted. You turned slowly, your damp hair clinging to your skin as your mind raced. This wasn’t an accident. You hadn’t imagined it. Slade had changed the locks. The thought sent something icy down your spine. Alarm bells blared in your mind.

You tried to shake it off, tried to tell yourself it was nothing. Maybe it was security. Maybe he just wanted better protection.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t it. Because he didn’t tell you. Because Slade never did anything without a purpose. Because Slade Wilson didn't need a lock to keep people out. And because you hadn’t noticed until now. You took a slow, steady breath and turned toward the living room.

Slade was there, like always, seated in his usual chair by the window, sharpening a knife. The sound of steel against whetstone was rhythmic, deliberate. His posture was relaxed, but you weren’t fooled. His fingers were too steady, his shoulders just a little too still.

He was waiting. Watching. Like he had already predicted this moment, like he was ready for an argeument. You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, heart pounding too fast, not caring if you were in a towel.

"Planning on keeping me in a cage?" you muttered.

Slade didn’t pause. Didn’t even look up. “Planning on keeping you alive.” The words were so smooth, so easy, that your stomach turned.

Your breath caught. Because he wasn’t hiding it. He wasn't denying it. Not anymore. This wasn’t a mistake. This was intentional.

You forced a laugh, though it felt hollow in your throat. “Right. Because I’m just so incapable of keeping myself safe. Even after all the training we've done. Even with my literal super-human abilities.”

Slade finally looked up. His eye locked onto yours.

There was no humor in his gaze. No smirk, like he usually had on while teasing. Just that slow, assessing stare that made your pulse stutter.

"If I thought you were capable of that," he murmured, voice quiet, too quiet, "we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

Your chest tightened. Because the way he said it sent something sinking into the pit of your stomach. This wasn’t just about protecting you. This was about making sure you never left.

Two days later, you decided to test it. Just to see what would happen. Slade had stepped out—or so he wanted you to believe. The moment you heard the door shut behind him, you moved.

Your fingers curled around the knob.

Turned it— but a large, scared hand beat you two it

"Going somewhere?"

Your entire body locked up. You gulped and licked your suddenly dry lips, he had you cornered with one hand on the knob and the other caging you in as he towered over you. His voice was smooth, calm—too calm. You turned slowly, pulse thrumming in your throat. Slade stood right behind you.

The door was still closed.

Your heart stuttered. You hadn’t heard him come back. Hadn’t even realized he was there. So much for super hearing. Nothing worked on Slade Wilson. You kept your expression neutral. Didn’t let him see the panic creeping up your throat.

"Didn’t realize I had a curfew," you muttered with an uneasy grin, trying to start your usual banter. Slade didn’t smile. Didn’t smirk. Just watched you.

“You don’t.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. But he didn’t move. Didn’t step aside. Didn’t let you leave. The silence stretched too long.

Finally, you forced a smile, tilting your head. “Then I’ll be back in an hour.” Nothing changed in his expression. But you could feel the weight of his stare. Then he tilted his head, eye dark and calculating.

“It's not safe out there anymore. Not for you.”

You blinked. Something in his tone shifted.Not amusement. Not control. Something else. Something darker. Like he was waiting for you to figure it out.

Your stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?” He didn’t answer. Didn’t even move.

Just let the question hang in the air, stretching the silence tight between you. And that’s when it hit you.

He wasn’t stopping you because he was afraid you’d leave.

He was stopping you because something else was waiting outside.

Something he wasn’t telling you about.

Your mouth went dry. Slade finally let out a slow, amused breath, pushing off the wall.

And then—

He stepped aside. A challenge. Daring you to open the door. You hesitated. And that was all it took.

The moment you hesitated, you lost. Slade smirked, shaking his head like he had already predicted every move you would make. "Let's get to bed." He rasped out, looking at you with dark, seductive eyes.

And then he turned, walking past you like the conversation was over. Because it was. Because he knew you wouldn’t leave now.

The next morning, the locks changed again. The windows were reinforced. Your pretty pink curtains replaced with black shutters. Your phone stopped working. You couldn't call Selina. Every excuse to leave was removed before you could even think about it. You tried not to panic. Tried not to question it.

But Slade was closing the walls in. And you weren’t sure if it was to keep someone out—

Or to keep you in.

The first time, you thought it was a coincidence.

You had slipped into a bar down the street, needing to breathe, needing something normal.

The moment you stepped in, your stomach turned. Something familiar. Cologne. Not just any cologne. Expensive. Sharply tailored. The scent of whiskey and authority.

You froze.

Your mind screamed at you. It’s just someone else wearing it. It’s just your imagination. And then you saw it. A glass at the bar. Untouched. Neat. No ice. A double pour. your breath hitched.

Harvey’s drink.

It wasn’t until you came home that you truly realized. Because that’s when you saw the rose.

A single red rose on the kitchen counter.

Waiting for you. Your entire body went cold. It wasn’t from Slade. It couldn’t be from Slade. Slade would never bring you roses, he wasn't a gentleman. And he knew you liked hydrangeas and peonies now.

You turned slowly and nearly threw up.

Slade was already standing there. Watching. Waiting. His jaw was tight. His fingers twitched at his side. He didn’t say anything. And that’s when you knew,

He had seen this coming.

“Where did that come from?” you asked, voice thin. Why was he doing this? Was shattering your heart not enough? Did he want to ruin things with you and Slade?

Slade didn’t answer. Instead, he walked forward, plucked the rose from the counter, and rolled it between his fingers. Slowly. Deliberately. Then, he crushed it.

Your stomach dropped. The petals crumbled to the floor. His voice was dangerously calm. "You tell me, sweetheart."

For the rest of the night, he didn’t let you out of his sight. Not directly holding you hostage, but you felt it. The way he lingered in doorways. The way his hand ghosted too close when you passed him.

Like he was waiting. Waiting for you to ask. Waiting for you to figure it out. Waiting for Harvey to stop playing games and make a real move.

You weren’t sure when it had happened; when you had stopped keeping track of time, stopped caring about the difference between one night and the next. Slade made sure you had no reason to count the days. He made sure you had no reason to want anything. You woke up every morning in his arms and went to bed satisfied and well loved. It wasn’t a prison but it wasn’t freedom either. It was something in between. A limbo of his design. A small slice of heaven in hell.

You were happy. But something was off, Slade was being more paranoid and he got less subtle about it each day.

You weren’t trapped, not physically. Slade let you leave the apartment. You weren’t chained to the walls, weren’t locked in a room. He took you out on missions, let you get your hands dirty alongside him, let you breathe in the crisp Gotham air under the cover of night. In some ways, those nights were the only times you felt alive, other than when you were with Slade. The weight of a blade in your hand, the burn in your muscles from the chase, the sharp adrenaline rush of the fight, of using your powers on someone they affected; it reminded you that you still existed outside of this quiet game he played with you. Because that’s what it was. A game.

Slade never said it outright, never told you he was keeping you on a leash, but you could feel it tightening with every passing week. At first, it was small things. The way he subtly redirected missions away from Gotham’s city center, keeping you to the outskirts, where the shadows were deeper and the chances of running into familiar faces were slimmer. The way he always made sure you stayed close during a job, always just within arm’s reach. It wasn’t just protection. You knew better than that. It was control. He was testing you, waiting to see if you would try to slip away, if you would give him a reason to remind you just how easily he could pull you back.

You weren’t stupid. You knew the real test wasn’t in the field. It was what happened after.

After the job was done, after the adrenaline had settled into exhaustion, after the long, banter filled walk back to wherever Slade had decided to keep you that night. It was in the way he never let you wander too far. The way his hand would hover at the small of your back without quite touching, guiding you down the streets like he was the one who decided where you went. It was in the way he never left you alone for too long.

At first, you told yourself it was coincidence. Slade was always working, always had something that needed his attention. But then you started to notice the patterns. You ate together, you slept together, trained together, hell; you even showered together. You were never alone for more than a few hours. If he had business elsewhere, you were given something to occupy your time—training, surveillance, a task that kept you exactly where he wanted you.

You tested it once again, just to see what would happen. After he had left for what you thought was a routine meeting, you had grabbed your coat and made your way to the door. You weren’t even thinking about leaving him, not really. You just wanted to see if you could. If there was still a part of you that could step outside without feeling the weight of his presence pressing against you.

Your fingers had just curled around the doorknob when you heard his voice. Low. Even. Inevitable.

“Going somewhere?”

You were getting de ja vu. This happened last time too. You had swallowed hard, pulse spiking in your throat as you turned. He was standing right behind you.

You hadn’t heard the door open. Hadn’t heard his footsteps. He was just there, watching, waiting. The worst part was that he wasn’t even angry. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you, wasn’t raising his voice or blocking your way. He didn’t have to.

Slade had simply leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eye scanning you with that sharp, unreadable expression that made your stomach twist. “Didn’t realize I needed permission,” you had said, forcing your voice to stay steady. You wouldn't let him control everything, not another man would be in charge of your life.

“You don’t.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were a puzzle he had already solved. “Just wondering if you really think it’s safe out there.”

Not this odd shit again.

That made you pause. The way he said it. Not like a threat. Not like he was trying to scare you into staying. He said it the same way as last time. Like he already knew something you didn’t.

Your grip on the doorknob tightened. “What are you talking about? You said this last time.”

Slade didn’t answer right away. He just let the silence stretch, let you feel the weight of your own hesitation. Then, slowly, he took a step back. Another challenge.

“If you want to go,” he said, gesturing toward the door, “go.”

Your breath caught. You should have. You should have walked out.

But you didn’t.

Because you knew that if you did, if you stepped outside now, you wouldn’t just be walking into Gotham. You would be walking into something else. Something waiting.

Slade knew it. And now, so did you.

You swallowed hard, stepping back from the door. Slade huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head like you had just proven his point. Then, without another word, he walked past you and disappeared into the other room. That was the moment you knew, whatever was waiting for you out there was worse than what was waiting inside. You just didn’t know what it was yet.

You found out a week later. A part of it, at least.

The envelope was waiting for you when you returned from a job with Slade, slipped under the apartment door like a whisper of something you had tried to forget. You had bent down, fingers hesitating just for a second before picking it up. The paper was thick, expensive. No return address. No markings. But you didn’t have to open it to know who it was from. The sharp smell of cologne gave it away.

Your stomach twisted, nausea rising in the back of your throat as you tore it open, your hands gripping the edges a little too tightly. The letter inside was simple. Only four words.

You won't forget me.

Your breath hitched. Your hands trembled. Because the worst part was, he was right. No matter how much Slade consumed you, or your occasional fantasy about Clark; he also stayed on your mind

You barely had time to process it before you heard the apartment door shut behind you. Your fingers snapped the letter closed, chest tightening, but it was too late.

Slade had already seen.

His expression didn’t change, but you could feel it. The shift in the air. The way his shoulders set just a little too still, the way his single eye flickered from your face to the envelope with something dark and unreadable. He stepped forward, not rushing, just closing the distance between you with the kind of inevitability that made your breath come short.

You turned, but before you could move, his hand shot out. Not rough, not gentle like usual, just firm. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, halting you in place.

“Let go,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t.

Instead, he reached for the letter.

You pulled back.

Slade’s grip tightened. “Let me see,” he said, his voice low, controlled. He wasn't used to you denying him these days, not when you loved him.

Your stomach clenched. You didn’t let go, but it didn’t matter. Because Slade never asked twice.

With one sharp tug, he tore the letter from your grasp, unfolding it with a lazy flick of his wrist. You watched as his eye scanned the words, his jaw tensing, his fingers tightening around the paper just slightly.

Then, finally, a quiet chuckle. A dark, amused sound. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Your breath hitched. Slade looked at you now. Expression unreadable.

“Do you miss him?” Your heart stopped. You denied it, but you could see in Slade's eyes that he didn't believe you. In the way he turned away from you that night. You didn't blame him, you didn't even believe yourself.

Harvey always knew how to play the long game.

Small things began to shift in your life and you knew who was behind it. The song on the radio. A scarf. A photo photo. They were never coincidences, he didn’t believe in coincidence. The man was calculated, meticulous in his pursuits. When he wanted something, he played patient, steady, unyielding, watching from the shadows, striking when you least expected it.

Slade was the same way, but Slade never needed patience. Slade took what he wanted. Harvey waited for it to come back to him.

The jazz playing in the bar was nothing, just white noise in the background while you sat beside Slade, nursing your drink, your head still fogged from the last mission. You weren’t thinking of anything other than how good it felt to finally sit still.

Then, days later, the scarf appeared. Neatly folded on the couch, like a gift wrapped in silence, waiting for you to pick it up. You hadn’t touched it at first, just stood there, staring at it, fingers twitching at your sides. It was a trick of the mind, an old memory manifesting in a way that didn’t make sense.

Except it wasn’t.

He had been here. Or close enough to touch. You should have told Slade. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. And then, the photo. A photo Selina took of you and him dancing at the Pink Pony Club. It smelled like him too.

That was what shattered the illusion of security, the idea that you had control over this. The moment you saw it, you knew.

Harvey had always been a sentimentalist, clinging to memories long past, treasuring things most people would discard.

You, once upon a time, had been one of those things. And now? You weren’t sure. You weren't sure what he wanted, especially since he had Tiffany. You had placed the photo down carefully, afraid to crumple it, afraid to acknowledge what it meant.

You had kept your movements neutral, your breath steady, but Slade had been watching. His presence in the other room was a solid weight pressing into your chest. The shuffle of files, the slow deliberate sound of metal being set down, he was waiting.

He had noticed. Of course, he had. Slade noticed everything. And yet, he didn’t say a word.

You lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, feeling Slade’s presence next to you like a silent storm waiting to break. He wasn’t asking. He was waiting for you to give yourself away. To tell him the truth, to trust him like he trusted you.

Slade had been watching you too closely, keeping his invisible leash tight without ever pulling. That was the way he worked, he let you think you had freedom while keeping you within his reach. If you had tried to leave through the door, he would have known.

So, you didn’t.

You waited, feigned sleep, forced your breathing into something slow, even, something convincing. You heard him move in the other room, heard the creak of his chair, the slow inhale of a cigar.

You moved the moment he shifted. Window, not the door. Silent steps. A fire escape that groaned beneath your weight. By the time Slade glanced back toward the couch, you were already gone.

Harvey knew you would come.

You knew that from the moment you stepped onto the rooftop, the Gotham skyline stretched out behind him like a kingdom.

He turned before you could say anything, a slow, easy movement, his face shadowed beneath the dim glow of the streetlights. And then, he smiled. Not a smirk. Not the sharp, dangerous grin you had been expecting. It was something softer. Something more desperate. Like a man in the desert coming across a well.

“Took you long enough, didn't think you got my message. I started thinking that maybe the note didn't reach you.” he murmured. The message he left in the women's bathroom at a bar you and Slade frequented.

Your throat felt tight. You felt hurt all over again. Like someone reopened the wound of his betrayal. Like the same broken girl Slade took in six months ago. You came here for closure. So that it wouldn't hurt when you said his name or sang the songs you wrote for him. “How did you find me?”

What did he want? To torture you? Rub salt in your wounds?

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I never lost you.”

Only Slade called you that now. The words made your stomach twist, a cold knot settling in your chest. You should have walked away then. But you didn’t. Because you had to know.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you haunting me? Not letting me move on?” Your voice shook as you said it. This conversation was long overdue.

Harvey’s fingers gripped the railing, his knuckles white. “Because I need you to listen to me. Just once. Just this once. Hear me out.”

Your heart hammered. Hear him out? He could've started with an apology.

“You think I’ll forgive you?” you spat. You would, because when you looked at him, you still felt the same warmth you did all those months ago; only this time it was mixed with resentment and longing.

He flinched. And for the first time, you saw it—the raw, desperate emotion that he had always hidden behind sharp words and confident grins. The mask cracked, just for a second.

His voice turned rough, unsteady. “I don’t deserve forgiveness. I know that. But I need you to hear me out.”

You shook your head, stepping back, but he reached out—not touching, not yet, but close.

“You don’t know what’s happening,” he continued, his voice dropping into something urgent, pleading. “Your family—Tim, Dick, all of them—they’re figuring it out. They’re finding out the truth about Tiffany. They'll realize what she's doing, like I did.They'll know soon, maybe not today or tomorrow; but soon. They'll realize she's been using her powers on them like she did to me.”

Your breath came too short. No. This was not happening. Not when you were finally happy again. Not when you think you've fallen in love with Slade.

“No,” you whispered.

Your vision blurred. It was happening. Everything you had tried to scream about for years, everything they had ignored, it was going to come to light. Harvey’s fingers brushed your wrist.

Soft. Careful. Like he was trying not to scare you away.

“And when they realize what they did to you,” he murmured, “they’re going to come running. Crawling back like I am.”

Your stomach twisted.

“They’re going to act like they care,” he continued, voice soft, insidious. “Like they’re sorry. But they’re not. Not like I am. You know that, don’t you?”

Your lips parted. You hated how much sense it made. Hated how deep the doubt had already burrowed into your skin. Hated how genuine and honest he was being, you could sense it. Harvey tilted his head.

And then, voice lower, almost fragile he said, “You don’t have to go back to them.”

Your stomach dropped. You stepped back. “I’m not going back,” you said, voice shaking. Never.

Harvey swallowed hard. And for a moment, you thought he might break, that the weight of what he had done, what he had lost, might finally crush him. But then, he looked at you.

And you saw it, the shift. The danger. Not Two-Face. Not the cold, calculated criminal.

Just Harvey Dent. The man who never let go. “You think you’re free?” he murmured.

The words sent a chill down your spine. Harvey smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “You think he just let you leave?”

Your chest tightened. You tried not to show the flicker of doubt, the small crack in your resolve. But Harvey saw it.

And then, voice so soft, so dangerous—“He’s not going to let you go either. He'll keep you locked up. I won't.”

You should have never gone to him.

You had known it was a mistake the second you saw him standing there, leaning against the rooftop railing, the glow of Gotham’s skyline making him look almost human.

But you had gone anyway. Because Harvey had always been a mistake you kept making.

You clenched your fists, how dare he talk about Slade? What right did he have to tell you who to trust. "Yeah and I'm gonna take advice from you. That's rich."

He softened immediately, his regret and remorse so obvious; yet he refused to apologize. You wanted to hit him, hurt him like he hurt you; yet when he stood in front of you in the moonlight, your treacherous heart still beat for him. Your heart didn't want to hurt the man who showed you what love is. The man who picked up the shattered pieces your family and Clark left and rearranged them beautifully. It didn't care that he broke them again; he could fix it.

“I made a mistake. I paid for it, I know the truth now.” He said steadily stepping closer, sensing your reluctance.

Your pulse pounded. “What do you want from me?” You were here for answers, not to rekindle an old flame. Not when you were starting one.

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Nothing from you. ”

The words hit you too hard. You understood what he was implying, what he wanted. You knew he would come crawling back someday, you just didn't expect it so soon

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “Why?”

His smile faltered. His hands curled around the railing, gripping it like he needed something solid to hold on to.

"You know why. But that's not what i called you for. I called you to warn you about your family and Tiffany,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. More desperate. “I can throw them off for a little while, lead them off track and make sure they don't know the truth. If that's what you want. But once they know the truth, they won't leave you alone. Certainly not with him.”

You hated the way your chest tightened with affection at his consideration. You hated that you were here. You hated that he still had a hold on you. You hated how he talked about Slade. You hated hearing him say Tiffany's name, it brought back so much hurt and hatred.

“I don't care about them Keep them away for as long as you want. You know I'm not here to hear about them or your whore.” you said viciously, your eyes shining and your teeth sharpening.

Slade would be proud.

Harvey didn't react to your fangs, he wasn't afraid of you. He came closer and grasped your hand, his eyes so heartbroken that it gave you satisfaction, only for a minute.

His voice cracked slightly. “Nothing I do or say can make up for what I did.” His jaw tightened. “I know that.”

You should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because Harvey’s voice dropped lower, his words curling around you like a trap you should have seen coming. “But I need you to know something,” he whispered.

You swallowed hard. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, watching your reaction. “She wanted to be you, she tried so hard.”

Your breath hitched. You knew this. But hearing Harvey say it made you feel so much better.

Harvey’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “But she never could.”

Your stomach dropped. Why did this have to happen now? Why now when you finally forgot about him?

“She dressed like you,” he continued. “Talked like you. Watched the way you moved. The way you laughed.” His voice hardened. “The way you loved.”

You shook your head, backing away. You couldn't take this anymore. You wanted to run back into Slade's arms, where nothing could touch you. “Shut up.”

Harvey didn’t.

“She wanted to take everything from you.” His expression twisted. “And maybe, if I had been a different man, I would have let her.”

Your skin crawled at the thought. Harvey let out a breathless laugh, bitter and sharp. “But I couldn’t. I had to go digging, looking for clues.”

His hands clenched at his sides. “Because she wasn’t you. No matter how hard she tried to be. No matter how much she played with my mind, she could never replace you.”

You hated him.

You hated that you believed him.

You hated how you still loved him.

Harvey exhaled sharply, tilting his head, watching you with something frighteningly raw. “Every time she touched me, every time she tried to take something that wasn’t hers—” his voice dropped into something dangerous, low and dark and broken— “I was thinking of you.”

Your breathing came too fast.

Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her,” he whispered, “I wanted it to be you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Stop. I don't care.” Lies.

“She wasn’t you,” he repeated, voice almost pleading. “She never could be.”

Your throat closed. Your eyes watered and your teeth burned with unshed venom just thinking of his betrayal. Why was this happening.

Harvey’s fingers ghosted over your wrist. Not touching, not quite.

“I never wanted her, not really” he murmured. “Not once.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. This was all you wanted to hear, all you wished for for so long. So why did you feel trapped. Harvey’s voice dropped even lower. He moved even closer

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

You forced yourself to look at him.

“If you don’t care,” he whispered, eyes burning, “why are you still here? Why do you want answers so bad? Why do you still look at me like that?”

You shouldn’t have come.

But you hadn’t been able to help yourself.

Because Harvey always knew what to say, how to linger in your mind like an open wound that refused to heal.

And now here you were, standing under the dim glow of the rooftop’s city lights, your eyes watering, the weight of his gaze pressing into you, sinking into your bones like something familiar, something dangerous.

You forced yourself to keep your stance steady, your pulse even. “You don’t get to ask me those questions.”

Harvey let out a breath, almost a chuckle, but there was no humor in it. His hands curled around the railing as he moved away from you again, gripping the cold metal like it was the only thing keeping him from reaching for you.

“Do you know how many times I told myself you were gone? That I lost you, ” His voice was steady now, but there was an edge to it—something dangerous. “How many times I tried to let you go, to let you move on?”

Your chest tightened. You weren’t sure if it was anger or something else, something more dangerous. “I didn’t ask you to wait for me. I didn't want you to regret your choice. I didn't want anything but happiness for you. No matter how much you hurt me.”

Harvey’s fingers twitched.

“No.” His lips pressed together in a thin line, he knew the truth, that you always wished the best for him. “No, you didn’t.”

The wind curled between you, cold and sharp, carrying the weight of everything unsaid. You should have turned away. Should have walked back the way you came.

But then Harvey laughed, a bitter, broken sound.

“She used her little snake charm but somehow,” he continued, “after a week I was thinking of you. I never loved her. Couldn't even bring myself to like her, honestly.”

Your stomach dropped. It was a gut punch, sharp and unforgiving. He saw it—the flicker of emotion in your face, the tightening of your jaw, the way your breathing caught for just a second too long.

And Harvey, Two-Face, the man who never let go, moved forward, voice soft, eyes burning.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I never stopped loving you”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. “Shut up.”

He ignored you. Again.

“I love you so much,” he said, voice low. “You love me too or you wouldn't be here.”

“I said shut up.” He was right, he always is.

Harvey smirked, but there was nothing victorious in it. It was almost self-loathing.

“I never loved her,” he whispered again. He was making sure you knew.

“She wanted me to,” he continued. “She wanted to take everything from you.” His jaw tightened. “And maybe, if you had been a different woman, I would have let her.”

The thought of it made your skin crawl.

Harvey, Tiffany. Together. The ultimate betrayal.

“But I couldn’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “Because she wasn’t you.”

He kept repeating it, trying to speak his remorse into your heart directly. You hated how much it affected you. Hated how your chest ached, how your mind burned with the thought of what could have been. You shouldn’t care. But you did. And Harvey knew it.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, forcing steel into your voice. “You used her, just like she used you. You wanted to spy on Bruce and I wouldn't do it.”

Harvey let out a sharp breath. “Yeah.” His eyes met yours. Unflinching. “I did.”

There was no shame in his voice. Just cold, simple truth. No regret anymore. He didn't regret using her, he regretted hurting you.

“But it wasn’t revenge, sweetheart,” he murmured, his Gotham accent slipping in the angrier he got. “It was survival. She had me under her little spell at first; when that stopped working, her little dream team made sure I never stepped outta line. Never came crawling back to you, never told anyone the truth. But I'm done with them now.”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her, every time I played along, I was thinking of you.” His voice dipped, lower, darker. More desperate. “Every time I called her by her name, I wanted to say yours.”

Your breathing came too fast. This wasn’t fair. Harvey was not supposed to be able to do this to you. Not anymore. He was supposed to be dead to you. He had killed himself in your mind the day he let himself be used, the day he betrayed you.

And yet—

Yet.

You couldn’t move.

Because deep down, a part of you knew—you had thought of him, too. When you weren't with Slade, Harvey consumed your thoughts.

Your stomach twisted as he stepped closer again. “You’re smart, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You always were. Choose carefully.”

You swallowed hard. This wasn't about your family anymore. This was about him and Slade.

“You don’t have to go back to them.” He repeated himself again trying to convince you. His words settled in your bones, heavy, unshakable.

You clenched your jaw again. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Harvey’s eyes flickered, something dark and pleased curling at the edges. And then, voice low, almost dangerous, “Then why are you still with him?”

Your breath hitched. Slade. Your body went rigid.

Harvey took another step closer. Your noses almost touched and you nearly threw yourself into his arms.

“You think he's better than me?”

Your chest tightened. Doubt crept in. You had been so careful. So quiet. Hadn’t you? Harvey saw it. And he smiled.

A slow, knowing smirk. “He’s not going to let you go, he won't give you a choice. I don't blame the man, if I hadn't fucked everything up; I wouldn't let you go either.”

Your stomach dropped. The realization hit you all at once, suffocating, crushing. You hadn’t been careful. You had been playing into Slade’s hands all along.

Because Slade always knew. And if he hadn’t stopped you?

That meant he was letting you dig your own grave. A shiver ran through you.

The moment Harvey’s voice dipped, the second his fingers ghosted over your wrist like a lover’s touch—you should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because part of you needed to hear him say it. Needed to hear him tell you what you already knew.

That he still wanted you. That he never stopped. That you were never meant to be replaced. And it felt amazing to hear the regret in his voice and see the pure longing in his eyes.

The wind curled between you, cold and biting, but Harvey’s presence was stiflingly warm. He was watching you the way he always had; like you belonged to him, like the months between you hadn’t changed a thing. And for the first time all night, you let yourself look at him.

Really look at him.

The scars on the left side of his face had deepened, his two-toned gaze more piercing than before. The weight he carried in his shoulders was heavier, more defined. He was still Harvey, but he wasn’t just Harvey anymore. He had become something darker, something rough around the edges, something broken in a way that made you feel like a piece of you had broken along with him.

You swallowed. “I have to go.” Before you did something you couldn't take back.

Harvey exhaled, slow and deliberate. He nodded, but he didn’t move. He didn’t stop you. But he wasn’t letting you go, either.

“You’re going back to him.” It wasn’t a question. A statement, like he knew it was coming

Your pulse stuttered. “It’s not like that and you know it.” You still felt the need to defend yourself, even though you knew you didn't owe him an explanation.

You still loved him, that much was clear.

Harvey let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Sure it isn’t.”

You took a step back. He didn’t reach for you, didn’t say anything to stop you, but his presence curled around you like a shadow, wrapping itself around your spine, keeping you anchored in place. And then his voice dropped. Low. Certain.

“I’m letting you walk away. But I'm not letting you go. Not when we still love each other.”

Your throat tightened. He wasn’t chasing you. Not yet. But you felt it. The promise in his voice. The inevitability. You didn’t respond.

You didn't deny that you still loved him, it was like a child insisting they didn't eat cookies when they have crumbs all over them.

You just turned and forced yourself to walk away.

The apartment was silent when you returned. Slade was waiting, seated in his chair, drink in hand, legs spread, glaring at the walls. He didn’t turn when you entered. Didn’t move when you stepped further inside, carefully shutting the door behind you. You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

You slipped off your shoes, moving slowly, watching him, waiting. Nothing. No reaction. Just that unshakable stillness. The kind that had always been more dangerous than his anger.

You took a steadying breath. If you didn't speak first, he wouldn't speak at all. “Slade—”

“I knew you’d come back.”

His voice cut through the room, sharp and even. Your fingers curled at your sides. “Of course I came back.”

Now, he looked at you. Finally. And when he did, it felt like a blow. That single eye, cold and assessing, swept over you, taking in every detail, every movement, every breath you tried to keep steady. Then, his lips curved. Slow. Controlled.

“Did he tell you what you wanted to hear? Make you want to run into his loving arms again?”

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t let it show. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Slade exhaled through his nose, the faintest huff of amusement. “Don’t insult me.”

Your jaw tightened. Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged. You weren’t sure if you were waiting for him to snap, or if he was waiting for you to confess. Then, finally—Slade leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, voice lowering into something dangerous.

“Tell me something,” he said lowly.

You didn’t move. “What?”

Slade tilted his head, watching you like he was already playing out the end of this game. “Did you hesitate?”

The words hit harder than they should have. You swallowed. You could lie. You could tell him what he wanted to hear. But it wouldn’t matter. Slade always knew. And that was the worst part.

Slade was quiet for too long. Then—he sighed. Tired. Expectant. And that was worse than anger. You hated when he treated you like this, so indifferent. You liked his anger better, at least then you could get a reaction out of him.

“Take off your coat,” he said. You hesitated. Slade’s expression didn’t shift. “Now.”

Slowly, carefully, you did as he asked, slipping the fabric from your shoulders, letting it drop onto the chair beside you. Slade’s eye flickered toward it. Then, back to you.

You weren’t sure what he was looking for. Maybe he was looking for something Harvey left behind. Something you didn’t even realize you had carried home with you.

Then, after a long pause—Slade smirked. And it wasn’t kind like the ones you've grown accustomed to.

“You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You stiffened. “Realize what?”

Slade leaned back again, completely relaxed. Like he had already won. “You'll know soon.”

Your breath caught. Where was he going with this? You hated when he spoke like some ancient being and he knew that. He was gonna be insufferable these next few days; he always is when you do something he doesn't like.

“Doesn’t matter where you go,” he continued, his voice so damn certain. His smirk widened, mocking. “You’ll always come back to me.”

Your chest tightened. You hated him. Because he was right. He knew you hated it, too.

You lay awake that night. Not because you couldn’t sleep. Not because Slade was in the other room, making you sleep alone for the first time in months, still awake, waiting, watching, knowing.

But because you couldn’t shake the way Harvey had looked at you before you left. Not angry. Not resentful. Just patient and remorseful. Like he already knew something you didn't.

Slade never brought it up again. Not directly. You weren’t sure if that was worse. You weren't sure if you wanted him to scream at you and demand you never see Harvey Dent again. You would rather anger than the silent treatment.

He didn’t demand answers. He didn’t press the issue. He simply carried on as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t watched you walk through the door smelling like another man’s presence.

That should have been a relief. But it wasn’t. Because Slade didn’t let things go. He let them fester.

It was in the way he touched you now, more deliberate, more possessive. The way his hands lingered a little too long on your waist when he passed you in the kitchen, the way his fingers grazed your wrist, as if reminding you that you were still there, still his.

It was in the way he watched you. He had always been observant, but now it was different. Sharper. He wasn’t just looking at you, he was reading you.

Every twitch of your fingers. Every slight shift in your breathing. Every time you looked over your shoulder without realizing it. You had brought something back from that rooftop, and Slade knew it.

And still, he said nothing. Instead, he tightened his hold.

It was late. The apartment was quiet, but neither of you were asleep. Your back pressed into the cool sheets, heartbeat steady but too aware of the man beside you. It'd been three days since Harvey and Slade was finally sleeping next to you again, but you knew he wasn't truly letting things go.

Slade’s fingers traced slow circles against your wrist, his grip loose but present. “You haven’t been sleeping,” he murmured.

You exhaled, shifting slightly beneath his hold. “And you have?”

A quiet chuckle. “I sleep when I need to.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze in the dim light of the bedroom. “And when do you need to?” You missed teasing him.

Slade’s smirk was lazy, knowing. “Whenever you’re not around to keep me entertained.”

You rolled your eyes, but he didn’t let you pull away. His grip tightened, just enough to remind you he was there.

“You think too much,” he murmured, voice lower now. “Keeps you restless.”

“Maybe I like thinking,” you shot back booping his nose. You lived to annoy him, to push his buttons in a way only you could get away with.

Slade hummed, shifting to prop himself up on his elbow, still watching you. His fingers trailed down your arm, you would've though he was trying to start something if his movements weren't so slow and calculated.

“What are you thinking about now?” He said reeling you into his trap, his eyes hard. You hated when he tried to trap you. Your pulse skipped. Nothing you said would be the right answer.

Slade’s lips quirked up slightly, but there was something in his expression—something darker, something expectant.

“You can say it,” he mused. “Say his name.”

You were tempted to do it, moan Harvey's name just to piss him off, but that was a line even you knew not to cross. You rolled your eyes, "God, just let it go Slade. It wasn't important."

Why couldn't he just let this go? Slade smirked, mocking. “That’s what I thought.”

You didn’t break his gaze. Didn’t look away. Because he knew. He always knew. Nothing goes over Slade Wilson's head.

The next morning, you woke up to a message. Not a text. Not a voicemail. A gift.

The small wooden box sat on the kitchen counter, neat, precise. Like it had been waiting for you. Your blood ran cold. You hadn’t heard anyone come in. You hadn’t even felt him. But Harvey had been here. You swallowed, fingers brushing over the lid before carefully lifting it open.

Inside was a single playing card.

The Two of Hearts.

And beneath it—folded carefully, as if it was meant to be unwrapped like some kind of sentimental treasure—was the same scarf he had left before.

Except this time, there was something else. Perfume. Your perfume. It smelled like you and him. Like Harvey had held onto it. Like he had kept it close. Your stomach twisted.

Harvey had been here. And you hadn’t even noticed.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the box, breath coming a little too sharp, too shallow. The walls of the apartment felt smaller. You didn’t hear Slade approach, but you felt him before he spoke.

His voice was smooth, dangerous. “Something I should know about?”

You forced yourself to breathe. “No.”

Slade leaned against the counter, eyeing the box like he already knew exactly who it was from. And then—he laughed. A quiet, amused sound, as if this was a game he had already won. “I should have killed him when I had the chance,” he said, in the same tone some used when regretting not buying a book before it sold out.

Your stomach dropped. Slade tilted his head, eye still locked on you. “But you wouldn’t have liked that, would you?”

You said nothing.

Slade smirked, shaking his head. “Soft spot for old flames.” He reached out, fingers brushing your wrist. “That’s your problem.”

You clenched your jaw, jerking your arm away. “And what’s yours?”

Slade’s gaze darkened. “I don’t have problems.”

You let out a breathless, humorless laugh. Always with the tough guy persona, honestly it must be tiring always acting untouchable. “Right. Sorry, I forgot. Because you don’t feel anything.”

Slade didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you, unreadable. His hand reached for your jaw, firm, demanding. His thumb traced your cheek, slow, deliberate. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet.

“I feel plenty.” You swallowed. Slade smirked. “You just don’t like what I feel.”

You stepped back before you could do something stupid. Something that would make you forget about the box on the counter, the scent of Harvey still lingering in the air. Something that would make you forget that you weren’t sure who you were more afraid of losing.

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Harvey was right. They were going to find out the full truth soon. And when they did, they would come for you.

Now, a week after your meeting with him, your phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Message after message, call after call, each one from Tim Drake-Wayne. All asking you questions about Tiffany, about yourself. About where you were.

Your breath caught in your throat as you scrolled through the texts, hands shaking, stomach twisting itself into knots so tight you thought you might be sick. Of course Tim was the first to figure out something was wrong. He was about five years too late though.

Tim: We need to talk. Please answer. I have questions. About Tiffany..

You could barely breathe. He wanted to investigate, to look deep into Tiffany. Now?

Now, after years of pushing you aside, after ignoring every cry for help, now he wanted to take your warnings seriously.

Your eyes burned, fingers tightening around the phone, your mind screaming at you to respond, to finally say all the things you’d held in your chest for too long.

But you didn’t. Instead, you turned the phone off. You shoved it under the pillow, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to push away the tears, trying to ignore the way your chest ached with something ugly and desperate.

The moment you walked out of the bedroom, you knew he had seen.

Slade was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, gaze heavy with something unreadable. The phone was still buzzing beneath the pillow in the other room, and somehow, you knew he had heard it.

He had been waiting for this. You swallowed, standing stiffly near the doorway, trying to pretend like everything was fine. Slade didn’t say anything at first. He just watched.

“Took him long enough,” he mused, his voice casual, controlled.

You rolled your eyes. He's been bitchy ever since the whole Harvey thing.

Slade’s eye flickered to your hands, still clenched at your sides. “And let me guess—you ignored him.”

You hated how easily he could see through you. You glared at him, jaw tight. “None of your business.”

Slade chuckled, shaking his head, pushing off the counter and closing the distance between you in slow, measured steps.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was lower now, smoother, curling around your spine like a threat disguised as affection. “Everything about you is my business.”

You tensed. Slade reached up, tracing a gloved finger along your cheek, tilting your chin up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“He’ll keep calling,” he murmured. “He’ll keep begging. He'll figure it out and tell the rest of the little squad and they'll all come running back. Just like your dear old Dent. ” His lips curled into something mocking. “That’s what they do, isn’t it? Make mistakes because they know you'll forgive them?"

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. Not to hurt you, just enough to remind you who was in control.

His thumb brushed over your lips, slow, deliberate. “What are you gonna do?”

Your breath hitched. Slade leaned in slightly, voice dropping even lower. Dangerous. “Do you want Tim to tell the others? Want your family back? Want him back? Even after he fucked your sister while you were lying sick in your bed?”

Your throat tightened. He was toying with you. Mocking you, trying to hurt you. Making you say it. And you didn’t want to say it. Because you didn’t know. Your family had been your world.For so long, all you wanted was to be seen.

To be loved.

To be something more than just a ghost standing in the background, watching them fawn over someone who had stolen everything from you. And Harvey gave that to you, before he betrayed you.

And now, he was sorry. Soon, they would all know the truth and be sorry.

The emotions clawed at your throat.

You wanted to scream at Tim. Tell him it was too late. Tell them that he could never fix this. No amount of investigating and apologies could make up for years of neglect.

But another part of you, the part that still ached for their love, the part that still wanted them to prove you wrong,

That part whispered, “What if?” What if when they found out the truth, they would love you? What if this time, they actually stayed?

What if this was your chance to finally have the family you always wanted?

The war inside your head made you dizzy. And Slade knew it. He was still holding you, still keeping you rooted to him, while your world spun out of control. After a long, suffocating silence, Slade finally sighed. “You’re a mess.”

You glared at him, pushing away from his grip. “Fuck you.”

Slade chuckled, unfazed. “You do it almost every night.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "You're a child, you know that?"

You turned away, grabbing a glass from the counter, hands still shaking slightly as you filled it with water. You weren’t thirsty, but you needed something—anything—to keep yourself grounded.

Slade leaned against the counter again, watching you with amusement, but something deeper lurked beneath it. Then, in a voice so casual it almost didn’t register, “I’ll make him stop. I'll make them both stop.”

The glass almost slipped from your fingers. You turned sharply, eyes wide. “What?”

Slade shrugged, like it was nothing. “You don’t want to deal with them. You don’t want to make a decision. So I’ll make it for you.”

Your breath caught. Slade never dealt with things peacefully, he got rid of problems permanately. “You can’t just—”

“I can.” His smirk deepened. “And I will.”

Your stomach twisted. Because the worst part was; you weren’t sure if you were relieved or horrified. Because Slade was right. You didn’t want to make a choice. You wanted someone to do it for you.

And Slade was more than happy to take that burden.

The first thing you noticed the next morning was the silence. No more buzzing. No more messages lighting up your screen. Slade had done it.

He hadn’t waited for you to argue. Hadn’t given you the choice. By the time you checked your phone, every number had been blocked. Every contact erased like they had never existed at all.

And maybe that’s what Slade wanted.

For them to be nothing but ghosts in your past. A clean break. A fresh start. So why did it feel like your chest was splitting open?

You had spent years craving their attention. Years begging for even a scrap of love. And now? Now you had the chance to get it. And you ignored it. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need them. That you had spent too long chasing something that was never meant to be yours.

And yet, as you stood in the quiet of the apartment, phone gripped too tight in your hands, you ached. Because you had wanted them to fight for you.

Slade had left that morning, his usual teasing smirk in place, but there had been something off.

Maybe it was the fact that his mission was dragging out longer than expected.

Maybe it was the way his fingers had lingered under your chin before he left, thumb brushing over your jaw like he was making sure you were still his.

Or maybe it was the way he had muttered, “Be good while I’m gone, sweetheart.” as you kissed him goodbye.

Like he already knew you wouldn’t be. Like he already knew something was coming. The apartment felt too big without him. His absence wasn’t something you should have noticed.

But you did.

It was in the empty space beside you when you sat on the couch. The extra portion of dinner you made out of habit. The lack of footsteps behind you. The missing weight of his presence pressing against your world, keeping you safe.

It was the first time in months you had been truly alone. So you did the only thing you could think of.

You took a nice, long, hot, shower, trying to dull the ache below your hips. You and Slade had sex last night, but somehow you were already wanting more. It was like your body could sense his absense.

You stood under the hot water, letting the steam curl around your skin, letting the heat scald away the thoughts clawing at your mind.

Maybe Slade was right. Maybe it was easier to just let go.

There was a sound. Soft. Distant. A creak where there shouldn’t be one. You wouldn't have heard it, wouldn't have sensed the body heat if you didn't have your powers. Your heart stopped. You turned off the water immediately, listening.

Nothing.

Maybe it was just—

Another creak. Closer this time. You swallowed, pulse hammering, every nerve in your body screaming at you that something was wrong. Slade was gone.

No one should be here. But you weren’t alone.

The second you stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your damp skin, fangs reader and a knife in your hand, you felt him.

The shift in the air. The weight of someone watching. And then, his voice.

“Gotta admit,” Harvey mused, voice smooth, mocking, as if he had any right to be angry “didn’t think you’d be the type to shack up with a guy like him.”

Your stomach dropped. You turned sharply, eyes darting across the room, breath catching in your throat when you saw him.

Sitting on your bed. On Slade’s bed.

Harvey was leaning back against the headboard, one leg crossed over the other, looking far too comfortable. Like he belonged there. Like he wasn’t the intruder in this equation.

Harvey sat there like he hadn’t broken in, hadn’t shattered what little peace you had left. The moment you stepped out of the shower, still dripping, wrapped only in a towel, you knew, he was waiting for you.

Your fingers clenched around the towel’s edge, jaw tight, pulse pounding.

"You’ve got some fucking nerve," you muttered, stepping further into the room, closing the distance between you and him.

Harvey leaned back against the pillows, one arm draped lazily over the headboard, watching you with something smug, something knowing.

"Had to see you," he said simply. Like it was normal. Like it was nothing.

Your stomach twisted. It was never nothing with Harvey.

"And let me guess," you bit back. "You just let yourself in."

His smirk widened. "Door was unlocked, it’s not breaking and entering if you used to live together."

You let out a sharp laugh. "Bullshit. That’s exactly what it is, Dent. We don't like together anymore. Never did officially either."

Harvey didn’t flinch. Instead, his gaze slid lower. Over the damp strands of your hair. Over your throat. Your collarbone. Your bare legs.

You knew that look. It made something ugly stir inside you.

He looked at you, gaze slow, deliberate, taking in every inch of you. The damp strands of hair clinging to your skin. The way the towel barely covered enough to keep you decent.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Don’t stop on my account. Nothing I haven't seen before.”

Your fingers clenched around the towel, pulse thundering. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Harvey let out a quiet chuckle, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Relax, sweetheart. Just thought I’d drop by. Say hello. You wouldn’t answer your phone, so I figured—” he spread his arms in mock innocence, “—why not pay a visit?”

You hated how calm he was. How easy he made it look. Like he hadn’t just broken into your home. Like he hadn't broken your heart. Your chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, heart hammering against your ribs. Slade was gone. Gone.

No one was coming. But you could handle yourself. And Harvey knew it. His eyes flickered down your body again, this time slow, calculating. Looking at all the marks and love bites Slade had left the night before. “You always did have a thing for older men,” he mused.

Your jaw clenched. Low blow.

Harvey smirked. “What’s the matter? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Thought you could just run off and play house with Gotham’s favorite mercenary and I’d let it slide?” He tsked, almost disappointed. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”

You glared at him. Where did he get the audacity? “You don’t own me. Especially not now. Especially not after what you did. Your apology didn't change anything. You've got no right to be here.”

Harvey’s expression darkened, but only for a second. Then he grinned. “Funny. That’s exactly what I was thinking about him.”

Your stomach twisted. Because you knew what he was doing. He wanted you off balance. He wanted you to doubt. It was working. Because a part of you—a part you hated—was already wondering what Slade would do when he found out. Because he would find out. How jealous would he be? Would he finally drop the whole nonchalant act, ask you to be official?

Harvey’s smirk widened. “You think he’s coming back soon? You waiting for him? That's real cute princess.”

Your throat tightened. “He'll be back tomorrow.”

Harvey shrugged, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How missions can just drag out longer than expected?” His grin turned sharp. Cruel. “Would be a real shame if something happened to keep him… occupied.”

Your blood froze. Harvey watched you, waiting for the realization to sink in. He knew. He knew Slade wasn’t coming home anytime soon.

Your fingers curled into fists and suddenly you were on top of him, fangs bared, “What did you do?”

Harvey simply leaned back, enjoying himself and the view of your almost naked body on top of him. He turned his neck, as if trying to give you more access to him.

Harvey raised an eyebrow. “Now, now. Don’t go blaming me. I didn’t lift a finger.” His grin widened. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know who did.”

Your breath was coming too fast, too shallow, panic creeping up your spine. Slade was gone. Harvey was here. You were trapped. And Harvey knew it. Your pulse pounded. Slade was gone. Harvey was here.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pinning him down harder against the mattress, your fangs bared, breath coming in sharp, furious exhales.

"What did you do?" you hissed again, voice low, dangerous, shaking with barely contained rage.

Harvey smirked up at you, completely unbothered. His eyes gleamed with that same smug amusement, like he was playing with his food.

"Relax, sweetheart," he murmured, voice infuriatingly smooth, teasing. "No need to get all worked up."

You pressed your thighs against his sides, pinning him harder. "Answer me, Harvey."

He let out a slow breath, his smirk twitching, dark amusement flickering across his features. "You always were so determined. I love that about you."

Your fingers tightened, nearly scratching his back, sharp acrylics pressing into his skin through the fabric of his white button down. You didn't want to hurt him, not badly at least.

"Tell me why Slade’s mission is taking so long," you demanded, your weight pressing down on him, your legs gripping him tighter.

Harvey’s hands moved then; sliding slowly up your thighs, gripping just hard enough to make your breath catch.

"You really think I’m gonna make this easy for you?" he murmured, voice dropping to something lower, something thicker with something he wasn’t bothering to hide.

Your stomach flipped, heat creeping down your spine, twisting through your limbs. He knew. He felt it.

His smirk widened, his hips shifting beneath you just slightly.

And that’s when you felt it.

Hard. Throbbing. Pressing against the thin fabric of his slacks, against the barely-there barrier of your towel. You nearly moaned, stop being a slut, you tried to tell yourself.

You froze, just for a second. And Harvey noticed.

You were straddling him, baring your venomous fangs. You could kill him. And he was hard. You could feel it, it was impossible not to, thick, twitching against your inner thigh, pressed right against you.

Your powers didn’t help. They never fucking did. The second you got close enough to feel body heat, it was over. It was a constant hum under your skin, that ache, that need, clawing at your sanity. Your towel barely clinging to your damp skin, the heat of his body seeping into yours, you didn't know how much longer you could hold on.

He let out a low, pleased chuckle, his good hand settling on your waist, just barely gripping. "Didn’t know you missed me this much, sweetheart. Thought you were over me?"

Your nails dug into his chest even harder, but he didn’t flinch. He never fucking did. "Tell me where Slade is," you demanded.

Harvey hummed, mocking. "You sure you wanna talk about him right now?" His fingers flexed against your skin, his smirk widening as he shifted slightly beneath you again. "Because from where I’m sitting, you got bigger problems."

Your breath hitched, and you hated it. Hated the way your traitorous body reacted to him. Hated the way he felt so familiar.

His gaze flickered, taking in the flush on your skin, the way your thighs squeezed involuntarily around him. He felt it too. The heat. The tension. The pull that never really disappeared, no matter how many times you had tried to convince yourself that you were done with him.

"You always were greedy," Harvey murmured, tilting his head, eyes dark with something wicked. He was loving this. "You just can’t get enough, can you?"

Suddenly, you were angry at him again. You remembered Tiffany. Your grip tightened around his wrists, holding him down, pressing harder into him, and his smirk twitched, just slightly.

Good. Let him fucking squirm. "You still think you have control here?" you whispered, lowering your head, your breath grazing the sharp line of his jaw.

His breathing faltered. Just for a second. Just enough.

Then, just as quickly, his lips curled again, sharp and taunting.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, voice deep, smug, full of sin. "As long as youre on top of me or under me, I don't give a shit who's in control."

Your entire body tensed. Your nails dragged down his chest, slow, teasing, right over his shirt. You could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips, fast, erratic, out of sync with the smug bastard act he was putting on.

He was burning for you. Just as much as you were for him. But you weren’t going to give in.

"You still think you can do whatever you want to me?" you whispered, leaning in, letting your lips hover just over his.

Harvey’s eyes flickered. A muscle in his jaw ticked. And for the first time since he had shown up, his smirk finally fucking dropped.

You grinned. Then you moved your hips and ran your fingers up and down his chest.

Harvey cursed sharply through his teeth, his grip on your waist tightening instantly, fingers digging into your skin like a vice. His dick twitched against you through his slacks, so fucking hard and aching that you could almost feel the pulse of it.

You let out a slow, breathy chuckle. "Guess you do still want me, huh?"

Harvey’s breathing was uneven. "Careful," he rasped, voice lower, darker, more dangerous now. "You’re playing a real stupid game, princess."

"Why?" you taunted, grinded your hips again, watching the way his fingers twitched like he was fighting the urge to snap. "Because you can’t handle it? Because you can’t handle me?"

It was fun being in control. Slade never let you do whatever you wanted to him, barely ever in the bedroom. You loved control, especially when it meant having a man at your mercy beneath you.

Harvey’s eyes flashed. Then, he flipped you. Fast. Brutal.

You barely had time to react before you were the one beneath him , your towel barely hanging onto your body, his hand locked around your wrist, pinning you down, his body hovering over yours, pressing you into the mattress.

His breathing was hard, uneven, tense.

"You really think I don’t know what you’re doing?" he murmured, so close now.

Your chest heaved. You got too cocky, too confident, and now you were paying the price, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Harvey laughed softly, mocking, brushing his nose against yours. "Liar."

You swallowed, pulse hammering.

"You love this," he said, voice like gravel against your skin. "The attention. The desperation and groveling. You love seeing me beg. The way you talk like you want to kill me, and the next second," his lips ghosted your cheek, his cock pressing hard against your thigh, "you’re grinding against me like a fucking addict."

Your breath hitched. His grip tightened.

"He ever let you get on top?" he murmured, lips just barely grazing yours.

Your stomach twisted. "Don't."

His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Did you think about me when he had you at first? Did you close your eyes and pretend it was my hands on you even after I broke your heart? Should I tell him that?"

Your nails dug into his shoulder, your body betraying you, the heat between your legs only getting worse, stronger, overwhelming, unbearable.

"You wish," you rasped, but it sounded too breathless, too shaky.

Harvey smirked. He knew. "Say you don’t miss me," he challenged.

You clenched your jaw, turning your head away, trying to ignore the way your body burned beneath his.

"Say it," he demanded.

You tried to, but the words wouldn't come out.

Harvey hummed. Then, his fingers slid lower, trailing along your bare thigh, teasing the hem of the towel.

"Yeah," he mused, smug and cruel. "That’s what I thought."

His fingers flexed against your thighs, his grip tightening.

"Little desperate, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice thick with something smug, something rough.

You scoffed, but your heart was hammering, your body betraying you. "If I was desperate," you whispered, leaning forward until your lips were just barely brushing against his, taunting, teasing. "You’d already be inside me."

Harvey let out a low groan. He flipped you back around, giving you full control. Letting you be on top. You lost yourself for a moment, lost the plot. You melted into him and began kissing his neck slowly and unbuttoning his shirt as you slowly moved against him. But then, you saw the picture frame you hung of you and Slade, right behind Harvey.

Slade made you take down all the photos whenever he went away on a mission, in case someone broke in and saw them, and decided to hurt you to get back at him. It was the only one you refused to remove.

It was of you and him, two months ago. Slade had a mission in Paris and he let you tag along, after you were done, you made him go to an ice cream shop. Some sweet old man asked if you wanted a picture together, Slade wasn't smiling, barely even smirking, but you could see the happiness in his eyes as he had his arms around your waist, looking down at you.

You felt nauseous, all the arousal you felt was gone. You were a whore. How could you do this to Slade? You stopped moving as your eyes watered, what if Harvey had done something to him?

Harvey's hands snapped up, gripping your hips, grinding you down onto him. He wasn't gonna let you stop now.

"Fuck, baby, I forgot how good you are at this. Don't stop, please." he exhaled, almost begging, his jaw tightening, his cock pulsing against you.

You bit your lip, trying to fight the heat clawing through your body, the way your nerves lit up at the sheer pressure of him beneath you. It felt so good. You were horny again. But you could use this to your advantage, Harvey wanted you even more that you wanted him.

"Tell me," you whispered, rolling your hips just slightly, torturing him. "Tell me what you mean when you say Slade's occupied.."

Harvey’s smirk curled, his hands dragging you down harder, making you feel every inch of him. " What’s it worth to you?"

Your breath hitched. Harvey’s fingers trailed up your back, slow, possessive, teasing. "You wanna make sure your merc comes back in one piece?"

You swallowed hard, your body thrumming with frustration, anger, something else. All control you had was slipping, your powers were making you horny but they weren't working. Harvey wasn't listening to what you told him to do.

"Make me happy, sweetheart. If I’m happy," his smirk deepened, his voice dripping with dark amusement. " the bastard stays alive."

Your chest tightened, heat roaring up your spine, burning you from the inside out. You hated him. You wanted him. You needed to keep Slade alive. Harvey’s hands slid lower, his thumbs tracing slow, burning circles into your skin.

"Make a decision, pretty girl, his flight leaves soon." he murmured, his dick twitched against you, heavy with need. God, how could he be horny while threatening your teacher/ mentor /situationship's life?

You couldn’t lose Slade.

So you kissed him. Hard. Desperate.

Harvey groaned against your lips, his hands flying up to grip your waist, dragging you down harder against him, practically trying to merge your bodies together.

"That’s my girl," he muttered, his voice rough, victorious, possessive.

Your stomach burned with shame, with need, with something twisted and terrible. You hated him. You loved him.

You needed Slade to live.

But you couldn't do this to Slade, couldn't betray him on the bed you shared every night. He would be livid, what would he do in this situation? Probably kill Harvey. But you weren't Slade, you weren't as brave or as cruel as him.

So you did what you do best: You ran.

You jumped off of Harvey, punching him in the nose, still only in your towel that somehow stayed on, and shut the bedroom door in his face. You had powers, you were faster than Harvey, maybe even stronger than him. You made it to the front door in seconds, but your heart dropped as you saw the three new deadbolts.

Fucking Slade. You debated letting him die at that point.

Suddenly, you felt him behind you, grabbing you and pinning you against the door.

“Goddamn,” He laughed, amused, mocking, “you really thought that would work?”

You snarled, struggling harder, but he didn’t budge. His grip only tightened.

“Let me go, Harvey.”

His breath hitched at the way you said his name. Not Dent. Not Two-Face. Not some alias meant to keep distance. Just Harvey.

And it made something in his chest clench. His fingers flexed, his other hand dragging up your spine in a slow, deliberate motion, making you shudder.

“You always run, don’t you?” His voice was low, smooth—but there was something dangerous beneath it. “Always running from someone.”

His grip tightened on your wrists, pressing them into the wall, “From them. From me. From yourself.”

You hated how well he knew you. You hated that he was right. You hated how he got you into bed willingly even as the guilt ate you up. You hated how good he made you feel, how you couldn't bring yourself to say no. If you did, he would stop, and you didn't want that.

"Don't act like you don't want me now. You were all over me not even a minute ago." He sneered, as he ripped off your towel like it offended him.

You didn't know how many times you came, or how long you went for. You felt so good, but somehow you've never felt worse. Even as Harvey made you scream his name, you thought of how Slade would react.

You felt even worse as the night wore on, and instead of rough sex, you began to make love. Harvey buried his face in your neck as he muttered apologies, still buried inside you, and swore he would make it up to you.

You began to cry, it felt so good. But it was so wrong, so disgusting.

And you knew you never felt true regret until you woke up the next morning in Harvey Dent's arms, naked on the bed you slept on with Slade Wilson.

WHAT YALL THINK?? 1-10?? ALSO COMMENT DOWN BELOW TO BE ON THE TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY

[luigilore]

luigi husband/domestic hcs

(a/n: trying hc format! thx anon for requesting! i hope its okay <3 if anyone wants to talk about domestic lu pls hit up my inbox<3 )

likes going grocery shopping with u like you have a little routine on sundays and he's always searching for new recipes to try

lots of pain management fit into yalls daily routine... massages <3 theragun time <3 tens unit whatever helps him and hes sooo grateful

lovessss showering together

he's great at picking up on your emotions and how you're feeling

words of affirmation- complimenting, uplifting, and supporting you is how he communicates that he cares

when luigi can tell you're upset, he wants and will do anything to solve whatever problem there is and make you feel better

luigi is really perceptive, like annoyingly so, "what's wrong? are you sure you're okay?" you can't fool him at all

he really prides himself on knowing the people he loves

wants to know all about you, even the most trivial things i think he would be so interested in learning about.. a bit obsessive in the most romantic and sickening way and u match his freak so dw

might be (is) a lip biter when kissing like first time he did it was on accident, he just got very excited but you both quickly discover he lovesss it

i think luigi is masterfully good at foreplay, methodical in everything he does... including uh... physical intimacy

luigi has a lot of self control and he prides himself in that... but he is also soooo sensitive he just thinks it's incredibly unfair

like just running your hands through his hair and scratching his scalp lightly, oh he's meltinggg

a very intense lover like his eye contact, his touch- firm grip, his voice- always lower and quiet, intense in the best way possible

oh and once you're married he loves always mentioning or name dropping "my wife," in conversations

he is naturally nurturing so he's very openly and unabashedly the biggest romantic

but your wedding is small, only with your close family and friends OR you elope... (i think eloping is sooooo romantic and i feel like he would be extremely enticed by this... and yes both of ur families are pissed)

omg then planning a big backpacking trip or something for ur honeymoon... oh

lovesss house hunting with you

he's a great partner, very responsible and reassuring, his presence is naturally calming for you

problem-solver, if something's bothering you he wants to fix it immediately. it doesn't matter how big or small, if it's upsetting you, he wants to make it better

you trust him and his decision making 100%

luigi prides himself on how well he knows you

to be loved is to be known and that is very relevant here

he also feels so so so loved and special when you remember little details about him

loves being spontaneous

a great gift giver, will retain you offhandedly mentioning you like this certain book or lipstick and boom six months later it's wrapped up for your birthday

anniversaries? forget about it, he out does himself every single year

luigi loves a romantic gesture, would not care about public embarrassment or judgement at all... do these ever materialize? probably not but he really only sees you and him in public

twirling you and dipping you around the dance floor

but that being said isn't huge into pda like making out in public is not his style

but holding hands, hand on the small of your back, or just physical proximity?

oh absolutely loves pet names, especially honey and baby

but totally melts when you call him any pet name! even just his literal name lol... the way u say it just gets him...

loves just like... being married, having you to go through life with he just really loves it.

loves it when you read to him, will very timidly request it

some nights will read to you as well, you guys take turns picking out books

one of those couples that does everything together but not in a bad way? just codependent but <3

he just genuinely enjoys spending time with you. you never run out of things to talk or laugh about

luigi is great at having a routine down, he's so busy but gets everything done

okay soooo he would be the most attentive dad

has art work from your kids on the fridge and all over his office, present at every single one and is sooo proud

documents everything about your children, like buys the baby books and takes so many pictures it's so endearing

in awe of your baby like she's so precious and luigi can't get over her chubby cheeks or squealing laughter... she's his weakness

of course he reads to the kids too and tucks them in at night

you do have to force him to relax sometimes and take a breather, it can be very hard for him to let himself relax and chill

so busy taking care of everyone else that he's not taking care of himself

loves being hands on with the kids

will somehow teach himself how to build things like your daughter wants a dollhouse? of course luigi can do it... why couldn't he... he's actually designing a 3d printed model rn like okay...

loves cuddling and spooning

like laying on the couch together, legs entangled, his hand on your waist, just reading or working on different things in silence, just the physical touch and intimacy is so nice for him

always wants you to sit in his lap or the arm of the chair

would be the sweetest dad, but would feel perpetually unprepared and terrified for fatherhood

would always be researching the best foods, products, etc

like not full helicopter parent/soccer mom but he's very involved and always trying to find new experiences for your kids

overall, luigi is a great person to share a life with, he's organized, responsible, respectful, and LOVING <3

[areyouwell]

Nyctophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of the dark. Children or adults may have Nyctophobia if they are afraid to be left alone in darkness

Ch.1

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: None as of yet, but we'll get there ;)

Word count: 9.2k

A/N: RIGHT FUCKERS ITS TIME. i don't think i've written a fic this long in goddamn years but here we are. DEFO ooc Logan and also timeline what timeline? Kitty is older than the rest of the students cuz i love her and i said so. reader's mutation is currently shadow-walking but that'll develop as we go on so slay boots. also I have no concept of word limits sooooo 9k chapter let's fucking go

How long had it been? Six months? A year? Two years? Honestly, you couldn’t recall. It felt like it had been forever since ol’ Charlie had sent you travelling the continent. Sure, it had been your idea to try and find mutants before they experience the most traumatic event of their lives, but you didn’t think he’d send you, and certainly not immediately. Though you were glad he did, you didn’t think Scott would make as good an impression as you could.

But, now you were back. Thank fuck. You could finally rest your weary legs and put down your heavy-as-shit bag. And at least now you could work on developing your mutation. Shadow walking. Or at least, it is now. You thought that was the extent of what you could do, just disappear and reappear whenever and wherever there happened to be a shadow cast on the ground. Or on a wall. Or anywhere really. But, Xavier had gently suggested that, perhaps, those shadows could be manipulated one way or another. You wished to fuck you knew how because your bag was all but cutting right through your shoulder.

Your boots crunched against the gravel as you took a deep breath, making your way inside. It was nice to notice nothing had changed. The lawn was still neatly mowed, brickwork hadn’t aged a day. It smelt like comfort. It smelt like home. But before you could even knock on the door, at least being courteous enough not to slip through the shadows, the oak burst open and two unidentified arms had wrapped themselves around your neck in one of the most warming hugs you’d ever received, accompanied by a high pitch squeal.

You knew instantly who that would be. Brown hair spilled across her shoulders, smelling faintly of lavender. “Hey Kitty,” you grinned, dropping your bag to return her tight embrace. It truly did feel like forever.

“I’m so happy to see you it’s been years! We thought you were never coming back! Scott thought you’d died and Charles wasn’t telling us, Logan didn’t think you even existed and that we were all lying, Jean thought you’d just got sick of this place and dipped, it was carnage!” She rambled, her deep brown eyes sparkling slightly. You had to take a minute to actually comprehend what the fuck she was saying before your lips split into a broad smile.

“Well, I can tell you that I’m not dead, at least not yet, and I do very much exist and I am not sick of this place despite what Jean may think. And– wait who’s Logan?” Your brain had only just caught up with the fact that Kit had mentioned a name completely unfamiliar to you. Just how long had you been gone?

“Oh, right yeah. A new teacher,” Kitty kept one arm around your shoulder as she guided you back inside, stopping only when you realised your bag was still left discarded by the front door. “He uh, sorta took your position as PE and combat professor… sorry.” She looked genuinely apologetic, whilst internally, you couldn’t be more grateful. You always thought you weren’t ever cut out to teach, and whilst you sometimes enjoyed it, you were always too worried about the kids being hurt. 

“I’m hurt, a girl’s gone for a year or two and you replace her? What kind of school is this?” you cracked a smile, Kitty’s face morphing from remorse to relief. She really thought you’d be upset? You were touched. “Anyway, what time is it? Where is everyone? I thought classes stopped at–” You were cut off abruptly upon entering the lounge.

“Welcome back!” you covered your face at the chorus of voices, laughing behind your hands before clutching your heart dramatically. 

“Christ! You’ve all just knocked five years off my life!” you grinned, faces both familiar and unfamiliar laughing and smiling just to see you.

“They’ve been looking forward to this for days. Ever since rumour of your return started circulating, they’ve been pestering us nonstop for a date. Eventually, someone caved,” You didn’t need to see Scott’s eyes in order to know he was giving Kitty a pointed look behind his glasses. You looked back to see her looking sheepish.

“Yeah well… they can be really persuasive.” She shrugged, taking your bag off your shoulder and placing it out of the way. You sighed at the loss of weight, rolling your joint slightly. 

“It’s good to see you,” Scott pulled you in for a brief hug, clapping your back once before pulling back, letting the rest of your friends and pupils make their way over. You were consumed by various arms of embraces, questions about your travels, introductions to new students, reminiscing with old students. It was quite possibly the best moment you’d had since you left. But a face caught your eye at the back of the crowd. A young girl, with the same dark brown hair you remember, only now a streak of brilliant white framed her face.

You made your way over, shuffling through the crowd, clasping hands and shoulders with people you knew before finally getting to her.

“Hey you,” you smiled gently, remembering how timid and easy to scare she used to be. You were caught off guard completely by her sudden bright smile. 

“Hey.”

“How long’ve you been here? I didn’t actually think you’d listen to me to be brutally honest with you, thought you’d just shrug it off and continue your own path,” you were relieved to see she had listened to what you’d said two years ago. You’d urged her down this path, to find the school. You’d already known Charles would take her, it was just a matter of her taking herself here.

“Uh… about that…” you’d only seen a smile that sheepish on Kitty. You cocked a brow, head tilting to the side slightly before a hand on your shoulder caused you to whirl. But it was just Ororo. Clearly, your travels had affected you more than you originally thought. 

But Storm wasn’t looking at you, you could only see the back of her white hair as she frantically waved at someone through the crowd, beckoning them over.

“Logan!”

Ah, you guess that made sense now.

Whoever you’d expected to walk through the crowd, you threw that image out your mental window the moment you saw him. 

Now you understood why he taught combat and PE… he was fucking ripped. White t-shirt leaving nothing to the imagination. The facial hair was an interesting choice, but you couldn’t say it didn’t suit him. He was very… rugged lumberjack looking.

You placed a hand on your hip, brows raised in intrigue as he made his way over. You don’t think you’d ever seen a grumpier-looking man. 

“Logan, this is Phantom,” your eyes slid to Ororo as she used your mutant name. 

“Ah, so you do exist,” his voice seemed a perfect match for the rest of him, just as rough and rugged as the worn jeans he was wearing. You nodded, mouth quirking into a small smirk.

“Heard there was some debate over that, glad I could put it to rest,” you outstretched your hand for him to shake, something you were surprised he actually did, calloused palm encasing your own.

“Can ya blame me?” He asked with a raised brow, dropping your hand after a beat too long. Clearly unaccustomed to civility, judging from his appearance. 

“Guess not. You’re also the son-of-a-bitch that stole my position, right?” You asked, wanting to be a lot more serious than you actually were being, but for some reason, you couldn’t help grinning slightly. 

“Language!” Storm elbowed you slightly. Guess you’d forgotten how to behave around the kids too.

Logan held his hands up in surrender. “In my defense, I didn’t think you existed,” though he also seemed serious, you thought you could detect something that could be perceived as humour in his hazel eyes. You couldn’t keep up your poorly constructed façade anymore, waving your hand as if to physically clear the air between the two of you.

“I’m kidding, you can keep it. In all honesty, I was never really cut out for it.” You shrugged. “Besides, I’m–”

“She’s being super modest by the way, she rocked as that professor!” Kitty called from the other side of the room, somehow managing to listen to your conversation. You didn’t know how, since the entire welcome party was still chatting way, but you cast her a withering look nonetheless. 

“So I’ve heard,” Logan’s eyes slid from Kitty back to you as you scoffed.

“Though, of course, it was purely hypothetical, since I didn’t exist and all.” You teased, gesturing to your very much existing self. You silently triumphed over the fact you managed to drag a small smile out of him, realising that making this man pull any other expression other than irritation was something to be proud of. 

You hadn’t realised how completely caught up in the introduction you’d been before you noticed the girl still standing next to you, eyes flicking between you and Logan with a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. 

“Anyway,” you continued pointedly, “you were saying? So you didn’t come to find this place?” your head tilted again slightly in confusion. “How did you end up here?”

Rogue looked from you to Logan, who’s eyes were still trained on you. You looked between them. “Nope, still confused. How did…?” 

“Well, after you found me, I did carry on my own path, which led me to some shady bar where Logan found me,” she explained quietly.

“More you found me but sure.” He shrugged. You could tell there was some kind of bond between them, one you could recognise was only built through trauma. You’d heard a little of what happened with Eric through Charles’ telepathic link, but he always reassured you to continue what you were doing. But you often wondered what could have happened if you’d returned. 

“So, you brought her here?” You asked, trying to prompt the story forward. Honestly, you wanted to know how he’d succeeded where you’d failed. You could be incredibly persuasive when you wanted to be, but Rogue was stubborn on another level. 

“Me? Nah, didn’t know this place existed at that point.”

“Seems to be a common theme with you,” you couldn’t help the subtle teasing grin spreading across your face, nor your laugh as he rolled his eyes skyward.

“Never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Not whilst I’m still breathing,” you winked, before turning your attention back to Rogue and completely missing the way his features shuddered slightly. “So how’d you get here if tall, dark, and broody over here didn’t know about this?” 

“Tall, dark, and– what?” He asked, bewildered.

Ororo snorted in amusement, before stepping in. “That would be us. We’d been tracking another mutant, Sabretooth, and he just so happened to be tracking Logan, or so we thought at the time. We found Sabretooth, and these two at the same time. Brought them both back.” 

You nodded in understanding, now finally having got through the whole story. Well, maybe not the whole story, you knew there were details you definitely were missing, but at least you got the jist.

“I see. Glad it wasn’t my lack of persuasive skills then. Though I guess a life or death situation isn’t much better. How’s your mutation coming along?” you asked, only now noticing the black, elbow-length gloves she was wearing. Ah.

“Still hard to control, but I’m getting better at it!” She looked genuinely enthusiastic about her mutation, so much so that it almost brought a tear to your eye. When you’d met her two years ago, you didn’t know if she even wanted help. She’d been so lost in her despair and self-loathing that you didn’t think she had long left with the way her mental health was going. So to see her so happy, your throat closed up slightly.

“I’m glad, I really am. You deserve this, Rogue. All of this,” you gestured to the room around, to the friends she’d made, to the haven she’d found.

“Oh, my name’s Marie. Guess I didn’t tell you before.” She shrugged, and you had to laugh to stop yourself from crying. 

“Marie it is.” Her story touched your heart, and to see she managed to get her happy ending… fuck you were so close to crying. You had to change the subject before you broke down in front of these people. “Oh hey, is my room still the same? Wouldn’t mind freshening up a little, been a long journey.” Two birds with one stone. You could leave the situation and cry in your bathroom whilst taking a shower so you didn’t smell like the wrong end of a skunk. Perfect!

“Uh…” Storm started.

“About that…” Kitty continued, coming over to stand alongside Storm. You looked between them, before shooting a glance to Logan who seemed to be showing absolutely no remorse.

“Your bed’s real comfy, bub” he smirked, and you gaped.

“You’re fucking kidding me?”

“Language!” both Ororo and Kitty said at the same time, and you winced.

“Fuck, sorry. Shit! Argh!” you gave up, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m not letting any of you off the hook. This is betrayal at its finest! Giving him my position I can handle, but my damn room? That’s shocking behaviour from the both of you!” You pointed at them accusingly, shooting a glare to the man next to you who was doing nothing but lowly chuckling. You breathe out a sigh. You had the best room in the whole mansion. Or at least you did, before Muscles McGee stole it from you.

“Don’t blame those two�� Jean placed a calming hand on your shoulder. “we didn’t have another room made up when these two arrived. It was supposed to be temporary, but–”

“The view was too nice to pass up on,” Logan interjected. You realised he probably thought it was his turn to tease you. You knew that view was nice, it was overlooking the entire grounds behind the school. And whilst you were going to sorely miss it, you weren’t so heartless that you’d take it back from him. Besides, in a weird way, you felt like you owed him. He found Marie, and whatever transpired between them, she seemed happier now. You guessed you maybe had him to thank for that.

“Yeah yeah, alright fine. I concede. Where am I then?” you asked Jean, who broke into a broad smile.

“You’re in the one above, still got the same view, don’t worry,” she elbowed you slightly. That wasn’t so bad actually. Same view, same side of the mansion, just one story up? You breathed a sigh of relief. Yeah, you could do that.

“Good enough, I’m still mad about it though.” Your eyes narrowed at four of them, Logan included, before cracking your neck in preparation to take your bag all the way up the stairs.

Kitty clapped her hands excitedly, and you raised a brow in suspicion. “What’s got you so giddy?” you asked as she once again slid her arm across your shoulders, guiding you back towards the door. 

“Oh nothing, just glad you're home. It’s been kinda boring without you.” You laughed at that. With everything that’s been going on, you didn’t think any of them had time to be bored. But you appreciated the thought nonetheless. 

Eyeing your bag on the ground, there were times when you really wished your mutation involved some kind of super strength, because as happy as you were to be home and have a room just above your old one, you really didn’t want to lug that thing all the way up. And all the damn lights were on, so slipping up through the shadows was a no-go. You blew out a breath in preparation, rolling your shoulder once again, before you were stopped by a broad hand landing on your arm.

“I got it,” Logan’s voice weaved butterflies through your stomach. You hadn’t realised he was behind you before he was leaning down next to you and effortlessly slinging the bag over his own shoulder.

For the second time that afternoon, you gaped up at him, left almost speechless. 

“Super strength?” Was all you could say, hoping to Jesus he knew what you were asking. You watched his features morph from confusion to amusement as he shook his head slightly. 

“Nah, not quite.”

“Then how the fu–” you were reminded of the children present by a sharp elbow to the ribs from Kitty. “–uuun. How fun.” you gave up on your question, much to his mirth. The sight had your brain short-circuiting. You wouldn’t deny he was good-looking. You’d be fucking crazy to deny that. But there was something else hidden under all those knowing smirks and sharp glances. Something that you wouldn’t mind uncovering. 

Deciding that was a quest for another day, you turned abruptly on your heel, making your way to the staircase before once again stopping in your tracks. This was starting to get on your nerves a little. However, any irritation soon died as you finally saw Professor Xavier.

“Ah, I wondered whether the commotion was your return.”

You snorted a laugh. “No, you didn’t. You absolutely knew it was my return.” You quipped back, earning yourself a laugh from the man.

“As quick as ever. And I see you’ve met our Wolverine.” Charles nodded to Logan next to you, and you turned to him in bemusement. 

“Wolverine? Seriously?” you asked, laughing at his shrug. “Can’t think why…” your sarcastic jab paired with your pointed looks from his hair to his body brought another amused smirk from the man. 

“I thought you two would get along. Get yourself settled back in and meet me in my office and your earliest convenience.” You nodded back to Xavier, unable to take a moment to process what he meant when he said he thought you and Logan would get along before Kitty began dragging you towards the stairs.

“C’mon! You’re gonna love it!”You were slightly worried about what it was but followed her nonetheless.

Logan had to admit, he didn’t mind carrying your bag up four flights of stairs. It wasn’t the worst way to spend his afternoon. And as much as he wasn’t the kind of guy to stare at a woman’s ass, he wasn’t mad that he was behind you. 

Everything he’d been told about you had been proven correct. At least, everything he’d seen so far. Whether or not you could hold yourself in a fight was up for debate, but everything else, your wit, your charm, heartbreaking kindness, humour… it was all right there in front of him. 

Literally.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d had to bite back a smile or a laugh, stunned by the fact that you actually managed to break through and pull both from him. Even now, as you paused before the landing that lead to your old room and sighed wistfully, had had to stop himself grinning. And he was glad you turned back around quickly after throwing him a pointed glare over your shoulder because that was another smile he was struggling to rein in. Fuck, how did you do it? He’d only known you for half an hour and he’d displayed more expression than he had in his whole two years of being here. 

He was in huge trouble. 

The stairs finally flattened out to the top floor landing, Kitty still leading the way down the corridor until the final room. It was isolated, like his one floor below, and he guessed you must like it that way. Which he thought strange. The way you were with others, he hadn’t exactly pegged you for being someone who liked her space. But then again, he’d only known you for thirty minutes.

He had to remind himself of that. 

“Here we are!” Kitty grinned excitedly, stepping to the side to let you open the door yourself. Logan knew what you’d find behind the wood. He’d helped set it up after all. Some twisted guilt forced him into helping. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

You eyed Kitty suspiciously, before twisting the handle on the door, pushing slightly to reveal what she was so excited about. 

If Logan was being honest, your expression was worth all the consuming guilt he’d felt by taking your room. A smile of pure, unadulterated awe wiped all thought from his mind, your eyes were practically glowing.

“You… Kitty, you didn’t need to do this,” You looked back to the giddy girl and pulled her into a tight hug. Everything you remembered was here. Your posters, fairy lights, and every single plant you’d nourished and grown made your room look like a rainforest. The light in the ceiling had been covered by patterns to ensure there was always shadows cast somewhere, whether it be floor, wall, or ceiling. 

“It wasn’t just me! I employed help,” Kitty smiled, taking the liberties she knew she had to sit cross-legged on your bed. “And others offered to help.”

Logan held his breath as he felt your attention shift from Kitty to him, meeting your gaze of sheer wonder. 

“You helped?” you asked, taking your bag from his shoulder, though he was almost too caught up in your gaze to notice.

“Here an’ there…” he muttered, trying to calm himself by leaning against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest, attempting to escape your eyes by looking around your room. 

“Here and there? That’s such a lie! He’d heard about your mutation, the shadow-casting thing was his idea!” Kitty grinned excitedly, and you all but choked on the realisation. He did this for you. He didn’t even know you, and he did this for you. 

“Kitty, that’s en–oof!” Logan barely had time to react before your arms were around his neck, your chin resting on his shoulder. Your scent hit him like a truck, and it was nothing like how he’d imagine it. Not that he had imagined it…

“Thank you,” you whispered earnestly, and any guard he’d put up previously melted away. He didn’t exactly return your embrace, but his hands somehow found your waist as you pulled back, keeping your arms across his shoulders. “Maybe I can forgive you for stealing my old room now. Oh! And my job. And not believing I exist,” your grin held more mischief than he ever thought possible, but now you were back to teasing, he felt his thoughts return. 

“Anythin’ else?” He asked, mirroring your expression.

“Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll think of something,” was it Logan’s sudden and overactive imagination, or did your eyes just flicker to his lips?

Was it the sudden physical contact that made your body hum this way, or was it just the fact that he could bench-press three of you? You didn’t care, and somehow, you didn’t think he did either. 

Until very suddenly and very abruptly, you did care. You stepped out of his hands far too quickly for his liking, your arms falling back by your sides. Though you didn’t look like you regretted anything. 

“I really appreciate this, from both of you. And whoever else helped. This is… well it’s better than what I was imagining,” you gestured to the room around you. It truly was perfect for you. They’d really outdone themselves. He’d really outdone himself. And you couldn’t help the warmth that spread from the centre of your chest to your limbs. You wanted to know more about him. “What’s your mutation, by the way? You never said,” you asked before you could stop yourself, and Logan blinked in surprise.

Holding his fist up, he flexed the tendons holding his claws. He no longer winced when his knuckles split. No longer grimaced as he sliced through his own flesh, though watching your face did cause him to worry just a little. 

You held your silence for a moment, not really knowing what to say. That looked painful as fuck, but you felt that asking might make it worse. “I see…” was all you said, before it hit you. “Wolverine! I get it now. It made sense before but now it actually fits!” You exclaimed, chuckling at his confusion. 

“Whaddya mean it made sense before?” 

“Don’t think too much into it,” you winked again, and Logan swore his heart stopped. 

“Yeah, alright Phantom.” He cocked a brow at the playful narrow of your eyes before you melted into the shadows right in front of him. He’d been made aware of your mutation, having overheard Jean using both you and Kitty as examples of phasing mutants, but to actually see it for himself? He couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed. He glanced around the room, retracting his claws as he looked for where you could have gone. 

“Get it now?”

Logan whipped around to see you standing behind him, arms folded across your chest, a mischievous grin plastered across your features. 

You always felt a sense of freedom when you released yourself into the shadows, like holding yourself in this corporeal state was somewhat of an effort. But letting yourself be free, to move like liquid amongst the darkness, it was like refueling a beaten truck. 

Logan’s lips quirked into a smile as he nodded once. “Got it,” the silence lingered once again, some kind of charge energy crackled in the space between the two of you before he cleared his throat. “Kitty, we should– the fuck?” 

You popped your head to the side, peering around Logan to see the space on your bed Kitty used to be sitting in was now completely empty. “Guess she left,” you shrugged. “Or she never existed.” That earned you a flick to the forehead from Logan, and you laughed, batting away his hand. How long had it been since you’d felt this comfortable with someone this quickly? Either it had been years, or never. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” he smiled, this time completely unrestrained. And fuck was he gorgeous. But you had to remember this was a man you’d just met. 

He had to remember this was a woman he’d just met.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll uh, see you later?” You didn’t mean for your voice to sound so hopeful at the end, but honestly? It was worth seeing him turn back to you with that same smirk you’d seen countless times already.

“Sure.” He said, before closing the door. 

You sat heavily on your bed, your head in your hands. “What the fuck?” 

Little did you know, Logan was having a similar reaction right outside your door, his back against the wood as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “What. The. Fuck?”

Having almost drowned yourself in the shower, using that shampoo you’d missed so dearly on your travels, you’d changed clothes into something a lot more comfortable, a loose pair of sweats and a spaghetti strap tank top, before heading down to Xavier’s office where he’d just spent the last ten minutes explaining his plans to further your mutation. And to be completely honest with yourself, you hadn’t listened to half of it. 

“So, in short, your ability, whilst appearing similar to Kitty’s, is actually entirely different. Where Kitty phases through objects, you become those shadows. Your molecules break down completely, unlike Miss Pryde.” He finished his explanation slowly, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you had no idea what he’d just said. Luckily, when conversing with a telepath, you didn’t have to.

Charles sighed, rubbing his forehead slightly. “You’ve always said you felt a strain on yourself whilst corporeal, yes?” He asked, and you breathed in relief. Finally, a question you could answer.

“Yeah, it’s like I’m holding water with my bare hands. Or something like that,” you nodded, looking at yourself slightly curiously. “So, I’m not like Kitty?” you clarified, looking back up the the professor, who shook his head. 

“I’m afraid not. We were mistaken before, simply assuming you were just another phasing mutant. But Jean ran some tests on your blood, and it was quite remarkable.” You’d almost forgotten the woman was in the room until she cleared her throat, her red hair pulled up in a tight ponytail. 

“I think you describe it perfectly. Your molecules are being held together, more or less, by string, or so to speak. Not real string, but I think you understand.” You nodded. You actually did understand, because that’s how you constantly felt. It was, however, incredibly unnerving. What would happen if that string frayed? Or worse, fucking snapped altogether? Sensing your distress, Charles covered your hand with his own.

“My dear, that’s why we brought you back. We’ve been incredibly lucky so far, and clearly, you have an innate ability to control the string. It’s led us to believe that your abilities don’t stop at shadow walking.” He looked at you with understanding as you took this all in. He’d mentioned to you previously that he thinks you could do more. 

“Shadow manipulation, right?” You asked though the question was rhetorical. You knew that’s where they were going with this. Charles glanced at Jean who nodded in confirmation. 

“Essentially, yes. We think you could pull shadows from an already existing cast and wield them to your heart’s content. In… theory.” She hesitated, and you blew out a breath.

“But in practice?”

“In practice… honestly we don’t know. It will be a learning curve for all of us, to be blunt.” You nodded a little numbly. You’d only just returned and already you were being bombarded with hard truths. 

Once again sensing your distress, Charles cleared his throat. “Well, I think we should continue this discussion tomorrow. You’ve had a long day and perhaps right now isn’t the best time to be entertaining new ideas.” He threw another look to Jean and she nodded again, standing from her seat.

You couldn’t agree more. This was a lot to take in. Especially since you’d become so comfortable with your mutation, believing that you were just another phaser like Kitty. But now, you were something else completely, something unknown. Even to yourself. It… scared you. And you didn’t scare easily. Worry? Sure. Impending sense of dread? Absolutely. Fear? Never.

“Right. Thanks, Professor. I’ll uh, see you tomorrow then.” You dipped your head goodbye, before leaving his office and closing the door behind you. Tea. You needed tea. Fuck you needed something stronger than tea, but since this was a goddamn school, alcohol was strictly prohibited. 

Fuck’s sake. 

Dragging a hand down the side of your face, you absently made your way to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. Muscle memory guided you to the drinks cupboard, moving aside the jar of decaff coffee to reveal your personal stash of teabags. Whilst primarily you were a coffee drinker, when it was this late in the evening, you tended to steer clear of the caffeine. You weren’t the best at sleeping to begin with, let alone when your mind and body were buzzing. 

You didn’t turn when you heard footsteps behind you, and the scrape of one of the chairs against the wooden floor, too focussed on rifling through the cupboard adjacent to the drinks one for our favourite mug. A gift from Kitty, she’d had custom-made for the print on the side to say ‘Phasers Forever!’. It made you a little sad to think about now. But, thankfully you found it, nestled right at the back next to the mug you’d gifted her. Also custom-made, but this just had the image of two hands with their little fingers linked. You’d made sure the gloves matched the ones you both wore in your suits. 

Dropping the teabag into the mug, you instantly savoured the scented steam as you poured the hot water, even the aroma calming your slightly frayed nerves. Wow, that meeting had seriously rattled you. Looping the string and tag over the lip of the mug, you turned back to the room, only to almost drop your freshly made drink in surprise.

Logan. Hair slightly damp, in a white v-neck tank, sat at the far end of the table, leaning back in the chair with a bottle of what you could have sworn was larger in his bear paw of a hand. That same fucking smirk pulled at his lips. 

“Phantom.” He raised his bottle in greeting. You wished you could match his energy, but honestly, you were drained from the day and the meeting. But you tried nonetheless.

“Wolvie.” You smiled back, though you could feel it didn’t reach your eyes. And clearly, he noticed too, expression shifting from self-assured confidence to slight concern.

“You alright?” Logan had only known you for less than a day, and he already knew he really didn’t like seeing you despondent. 

“Yeah, fine.” It almost pained him physically seeing your eyes remain dull with your liar’s smile. That was something else he realised in that split second. 

He really didn’t like you lying to him.

“Uh huh?” Fuck, he definitely knew you were hiding everything. How the fuck could he possibly tell that? He didn’t even know you! You sighed heavily, hoping it would help your next half-truth.

“I’m just tired. Long day, lots of emotions. Are you hungry? I’m starved and was gonna make pasta if you wanted some,” You tried your best to steer the conversation away from how you were feeling. Once again it wasn’t exactly a lie. You were starving, having not eaten since this morning, and it was now ten in the evening. 

Logan knew you turned away quickly so you didn’t have to see his suspicion. If you weren’t ready to talk about whatever was bothering you, he knew he shouldn’t push. But, to his surprise, he found himself wanting to know. He wanted to know what was up, and maybe, just maybe, he could make you feel better. It seemed doubtful, but it was worth a shot. “How was your meeting with Charles?”

Your shoulders tensed, spine straightening. Gotcha.

“Yeah, fine. Just easing me back into life here basically. Nothing earthshattering.” Now that was a flat out lie, and once again you refused to turn around as you brought the kettle over to the tap, filling it to the max line before placing it back on the stand and flicking the switch. You found it easier to lie when you were busy doing something else and making pasta seemed perfect. Crouching to one of the lower cupboards, you pulled out the pack of wholewheat, refusing to eat any of the sugary white bullshit. Unfortunately, the one downside of busying yourself so remarkably well was that you weren’t always paying attention to what was going on around you.

For example, Logan walking up behind you to take the packet from your hand and place it on the counter. You turned, realising he’d given you minimal space to move. He was so close you could smell the gel he used in the shower. Woodsy and smoky, like a forest cabin. He smelt fucking great, but to be honest, you were too busy trying to avoid eye contact to care.

“S’that why you look like your pet just died?” You knew he was trying to be teasing, trying to lighten the mood, trying to create a comfortable environment for you to open up in, but you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. With a deep breath, you stepped to the side and out of his reach, opening the fridge to look for something to make a nice creamy sauce with.

“Look, Logan. I appreciate it, and what you’re trying to do, but at the same time, I don’t know you. And you don’t know me. So, and I mean this with the utmost respect, fucking drop it. I’m tired and I have genuinely had a long day, what more do you want me to say?”

Logan blinked. And blinked again for good measure. He wasn’t expecting you to be so sharp. He didn’t know why he wasn’t expecting it, but you really took him by surprise. That seemed to be all you were doing since the moment he met you. Though this one stung a little more than he cared to admit. “That might’ve been the nicest fuck off I’ve ever heard. But it was still a fuck off.” He shrugged. He knew deep down you were right. You didn’t know each other, and maybe was was expecting a little too much from a three-hour friendship. If he could even call it that. 

“I didn’t mean–” You turned back from the fridge just in time to watch his disappearing form leave through the door, hearing his footsteps recede back up the stairs. You cursed inwardly, hating yourself for how you handled the situation. Though, looking at the pasta on the counter, you had an idea as to how to fix some of this. 

It had been roughly half an hour since he’d left you in the kitchen, recognising you needed space, and in all honesty? Retreating to lick his own wounds. He didn’t know why he wanted you to open up so badly. It wasn’t like he had a long-lasting friendship with you. He met you today, for fuck’s sake. Only hours ago. Shit, this morning he still didn’t think you existed! Logan groaned at the memory of you shutting him down, wishing he’d handled the situation differently, and stopped prodding when he knew he should have. Fuck!

He’d just managed to resolve to come and talk to you, before there was a thump at his bedroom door, followed by another. That wasn’t any kind of fist knocking… 

With deliberate caution, Logan stood from his bed, shining claws sliding through his knuckles as he approached the door, only for his nerves to be calmed when a familiar scent wafted through the cracks in the door. He didn’t dare get his hopes up until he turned the handle, pulling the door open to reveal you, stood before him, two steaming plates of pasta held impressively in one hand, and two bottles of larger in the other, your foot raised to kick the door a third time. 

“Before you slam the door, I brought peace pesto pasta, homemade so you know it’s good.” You were honestly surprised he opened the door, though you eyed his claws cautiously. Who did he think it was?

Logan noticed your line of sight, retracting his claws to cross his arms, a brow raised. “Peace pesto pasta?”

You nodded. “Homemade, don’t forget.” Logan smiled slightly at the hope in your eyes. “And also beer so you physically can’t turn me down.” You raised the two bottles in your hand, and he sighed as if you were a nuisance. Unfortunately for him, that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“Homemade peace pesto, beer, and…?” 

You stuck your tongue in your cheek. “An apology.” You reluctantly admitted, looking anywhere but his face. “Can I come in or are you gonna stare at me all evening? These aren’t the most balanced plates, been a while since I was a waitress so…” you mumbled in explanation, earning yourself a quizzical look.

“You were a waitress?”

“Yes and it was a long time ago but we can talk all about it if I can set these down somewhere they won’t fall on your feet,” you said hurriedly, borderline pleading with your eyes for him to let you in. It wasn’t as if he was about to say no, there was just something comical about the way you were managing to hold everything in your hands. 

With a click of his tongue, he gestured for you to enter with his head, closing the door behind you as you set one of the plates down on the window seat, rubbing the red skin of your arm where the hot plate had ever so slightly burned you. He instantly felt bad, crossing the room with the intention to take your arm to look at it before you stuck it into the shadow on the wall, removing it again to reveal your skin pristine again.

“It wasn’t that bad, just uncomfortable,” you shrugged, handing a plate and bottle to him. Logan shook his head at what he’d just seen, giving you a look of ‘fair enough’ before taking the plate and beer gratefully. How long had it been since someone cooked for him? Though you’d done it as a peace offering, it still warmed his heart slightly. That and the fact it smelt fucking divine. 

“I’m sorry…” you started, mindlessly poking your pasta around your plate with your fork after making yourself comfortable on his window seat. He guessed it used to be your window seat, but it still made him happy how comfortable you looked. “The Professor told me something in the meeting and… rattled me, that’s all,” you shrugged, popping a few pieces of green pasta into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. 

Logan decided to wait for you to continue, cracking open the bottle top of his beer with his teeth. Raising a brow as you looked over at him in slightly disturbed awe. 

“How did you not just break your jaw?” you asked, flabbergasted at his seemingly endless pool of abilities. 

“Not much can break it, considering my skeleton’s adamantium.” Logan was starting to like when you gaped at him in shock, admiring the way you jaw went completely slack, eyes wide. 

“Wait, how don't you– ohhhhh…” It had taken you a while to notice just how much the bed dipped when he sat down. No wonder he was so ripped, he had to be that strong in order to fucking walk around. “Any other secrets you're hiding?” You asked, before instantly regretting the question when his eyes met yours.

“You wanna talk about keeping secrets now?” He asked curtly.

“Walked into that one…”

“Yeah, you kinda did.” 

You sighed, fiddling with the bottle cap of your beer. Not to remove it, just to feel the sensation of the almost serrated edges helped to ground yourself. 

“You know about my mutation, the whole shadow-walking thing?” You asked, to which Logan responded with a nod, finally taking a bite of the pasta you’d made. Your heart swelled with pride as he paused, looking from the food to you with an impressed smile. “So, turns out, it’s nothing like Kitty’s. It’s not phasing like we originally thought, but something totally different.” You started to explain to an intensely listening Logan. “Kitty phases through things. I actually become the shadows I enter. Like, it’s not still my body but just in the shadow, my molecules break down to literally be the shadow,” you could tell he was trying to understand, his head tilting slightly to the side in a way you genuinely found cute. “It’s like, I’m holding water in my bare hands,” you started to demonstrate, placing your plate and bottle down beside you to cup your hands in front of you. “And this, this is my body. My corporeal body. But, when I dive into shadows, that body breaks down,” your cupped hands splayed apart, fingers spread to simulate a liquid splash. Logan nodded thoughtfully through mouthfuls of pasta. “How Jean explained it was that my molecules are held together with some kind of thread, and I control that thread, but it’s a constant strain… Like, I can feel my body being held together. And it just… I don’t know. It scared me I guess.”

The room fell into silence as you finished your explanation, Logan setting his somehow clean plate to the side, leaning his elbows against his spread knees, beer bottle clasped in both hands. “I uh, don’t really understand what’s scary bubs, sounds like this is an opportunity to develop it, right?” he asked, eyes searching your face for any sign you were reassured.

You sighed, the back of your head softly hitting the wall behind you. “Well apparently we’ve been lucky so far, and my control over this string or thread or whatever the fuck is stronger than they thought but… I don’t know, I guess what first went through my mind was what would happen if the thread snapped. Would I just stop being able to shadow walk or–”

“Would you stop altogether, and be able to do nothing but shadow walk,” Logan finished, realisation dawning on his gruff features. You nodded slightly, not wanting to speak anything into existence. 

“Exactly.” You whispered, staring into your borderline untouched pasta. You honestly didn’t know what to do, and you didn’t know what could be done. Surely, at this point, it was just a matter of time, right? The thought hit you like a lightning bolt. If it was just a matter of time, you just burdened this poor man, who you’d only met hours ago, with the knowledge that, eventually, you were likely just simply dissolve into nothing, cursed to live forever in the shadows of others. “Anyway, yeah, that’s why I had a face like, how did you put it? Like my pet just died,” You did your best to imitate his voice, hoping to shit it would lighten the mood of the room, but it only earned you a look of sympathy.

Fucking sympathy. You hated sympathy.

You’d come in here in the hopes to make things right with him and apologise for how you were earlier, but the one thing you really didn’t want, and never fucking wanted, was sympathy. You sighed heavily, preparing yourself for whatever ‘I’m so sorry this is happening speech’ he was clearly getting ready to spill. 

But for the umpteenth time in the short while you’d known him, Logan surprised you. Taking your bottle of beer from your side, he cracked the lid off with his teeth, the same as before, before handing it back to you. You, as stunned as you were, managed to take it from his hand, the soft skin of your fingertips brushing the backs of his own. You smiled in resignation, raising your bottle in some tragic excuse of a toast. ‘To the inevitable’ you wanted to say, but you physically bit your tongue before taking a long sip of the slightly bitter liquid.

“It won’t come to that,” you’d forgotten, in the period of silence, that you were waiting for him to say something. You tilted your head in confusion, and it honestly took all of Logan’s willpower not to launch into you and wrap you up in his arms. He really needed to pull himself together. “Look, I was pretty fuckin’ helpless when I came here. And I know you remember the state Marie was in. Neither of us thought we were worth savin’, but look at us now,” in complete honesty, Logan still didn’t think he was worth saving, but that was neither here nor there. “He’ll help ya. You’ll get this under control. And it ain’t all bad. He already said you had more control than he thought,” You could feel his eyes search your face as you closed yours. Maybe he was right. Charles had said you had more control over these strings than he thought. 

Logan was right. That was a good thing.

“Well, we’ll see tomorrow. That���s when we really start everything. We have another meeting before we’re straight into training, seeing if we can really develop this mutation before I cease to exist. No pressure right?” You half-joked, your lips quirking up into what you hoped was a smile. Or, at least, a lopsided one. 

Fuck he wanted to kiss you. Kiss you. When the hell was the last time he’d felt like this toward anyone? He hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone in goddamn years, and here you were, a woman he didn’t even believe existed a few hours ago, waltzing into his life and making him feel things like wanting to fucking kiss you. 

“I uh… ya know I wanted to apologise too.”

Well, that caught you off guard. “Wh– wait what? Why? What for?” you couldn’t help firing off questions at speeds you didn’t know you were capable of, utter bafflement contorting your features. 

“You were right. I don’t know you. And you don’t know me.” Logan watched as your face transformed from confusion, to hurt, to acceptance. 

“Yeah…. I did say that didn’t I? I–”

“But,” he interrupted, stopping you mid-sentence. “That doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know ya…” Logan almost laughed aloud at how your eyes went comically wide. Did you know how cute you were? When you weren’t telling him to fuck off, that is.

“I– Uh, okay, sure… what d’ya wanna know?” you asked, hoping to fuck you didn’t sound ridiculous. If you didn’t, Logan didn’t seem to mind or care. 

“You can start of by tellin’ me how or where you learned to cook so well,” you scoffed loudly, rolling you eyes. “Nah I’m serious kid, that was fuckin’ great,” Logan leaned against the headboard, an arm positioned behind his head as you too made yourself comfortable again on the window seat, resting your elbow on your raised knee.

“Kid? Do you know how old I am?” you asked, smirking slightly. Though you were a little embarrassed, there was no way you’d show it. Kid? Did he seriously think you were that young? 

“Do you know how old I am?” he retorted, that same self-assured glint dancing in his eye. You peered at him in scrutiny, emphasising how hard you were looking at him by squinting intensely.

“I’d put you at around like, early thirties? Maybe mid? Am I hot or cold?” you asked, kinda hoping he was in the same sort of age bracket as you were. Not for any specific reason of course… just for… science.

Yeah. For science.

Though your heart deflated slightly at his bark of a laugh. “Not quite. Try mid to late hundred and thirties. Give or take a few years.” Once again you gaped at him, mouth wide open, jaw completely slack. He could get used to that sight. Dangerously used to it. “Take a picture bubs, it’ll last longer.”

“B-but… how–? Y–? Hundred and– what the fuck?” You couldn’t get over it. Though your mind was still reeling, you managed to recover quickly. “Why you don’t look a day over ninety. You’re in good shape for a fossil, though I was wondering why I was getting a lot of calls from museums recently… probably looking for their exhibit back,” you smirked wildly whilst Logan just stared at you, trying his fucking damnest not to let his disobedient lips quirk anywhere other than down. 

“Ya done?”

“I’ll probably think of some more. But, in all seriousness, how?” You asked, and Logan couldn’t detect anything other than genuine curiosity.

“Regenerative. I heal real quick, but that also keeps my body in good condition. Dunno exactly how old I am, but it’s around hundred and thirty,” he shrugged, and you whistled lowly. “So?” he prompted, and you looked up.

“So what?”

“How’dya make the pasta?” 

You snorted in amusement, before launching into an explanation about your brother and how he always had an interest in cooking and had taught you to cook simple things, like how to make a béchamel sauce, or how to make pesto from scratch. And if you weren’t so caught up in your storytelling, you would have noticed Logan drinking in every damn word like he was parched for conversation. Listening to you talk, the cadence of your voice, the way you pronounce every letter and the way you occasionally drop a letter, it was hypnotic. You didn’t have an abundance of energy, and whether that was simply because you were exhausted after the day you’d had, or if that was just who you were, he didn’t know. But honestly? He didn’t really care. 

As long as you kept talking, that was all that mattered. If he could take your mind off tomorrow, or your situation by letting you ramble about the smallest of things, he would. And he would pretend the whole time like he was doing this for you. And not because, at the end of everything, he liked listening to you. 

“Anyway, that’s how you tell the difference between a Thoroughbred and a Quarter Horse. And I will not make that mistake again.” You’d somehow weaved from topic to topic, the conversation ebbing and flowing for hours, you both taking turns in sharing random stories from your pasts, little anecdotes that gave context to who you both were as people now. And it was only thanks to the brief silence and the conveniently timed chime of the clock did you realise how late it was. Or rather, how early.

It was one in the fucking morning. How the hell did that happen? Your eyes slid back to Logan, who at some point had made himself comfortable on the opposite side of the window seat, and you watched as he had the same realisation. Holy shit.

“I should probably–”

“Look, you should–”

You both started to speak at the same time, before pausing to let the other talk first. It was gross and awkward and cringey but, for the life of you, you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

You stood, gathering your long abandoned, though now empty plate, and crossed the room to grab his from the bedside table. You heard Logan sigh heavily behind you in what you assumed was exhaustion. You couldn’t blame the man. You’d been talking for hours. 

Logan followed you to the door, holding it open for you as you stepped out into the hallway. You placed the crockery onto the floor, freeing your hands to wrap your arms around his neck in a similar embrace to the one before. Only this time, you felt his strong arms return your hug, wrapping you up tightly against his chest.

“Thank you. For letting me talk for hours. You don’t need to pretend you enjoyed it, by the way. But thank you all the same.” You stepped back, and Logan leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah well, you brought peace pesto and beer. How could I say no?” He quipped, and you chuckled lightly. He wasn’t about to admit he enjoyed your company far more than he should have done, and he sure as shit wasn’t about to admit he wasn’t pretending to like it. His eyes softened at your laugh in a way he’d stopped them from doing all evening. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You peered up at him, a knowing spark dancing in your iris. You noticed. Of course, you’d noticed. That was almost exactly what you’d said to him earlier. The same hopeful lilt and all. 

“Sure.” Was all you said in return, before picking up the empty plates and bottles off the floor, and turning away to head back down the hallway. You refused to look back, worried that if you did, you’d run straight back to his room and never fucking leave.

But if you had. If you had just turned to look over your shoulder, you would have seen him leaning against the doorway still, eyes following you down the stairs, and lingering still, long after you’d disappeared.

Yeah… he was definitely in trouble.

[bylerworld]

sorry but the truth needs to be told it would be sooooo cool if netflix released weekly episodes of season 5. no, not everything at once. not divided into parts either. WEEKLY EPISODES. it would be so cool. hear me out: no spoilers. cliffhangers every time. six whole days to theorize about what's going to happen next. we would have stranger things for the last time for TWO WHOLE MONTHS. there are NO DOWNSIDES to this. we need to make it happen. society if netflix releases st5 weekly:

@netflix you wanna release st5 weekly. you wanna do it sooooo bad.

[midnightshindig]

omg hi, you're like... the only person I've seen make content for Multi Paul, and I need that man BIBLICALLY!

so I was hoping perchance could I request an x reader where he always follows through with his missions because he basically has a reason to get back home alive? reader is just constantly keeping him motivated, and when he gets back to them, he just melts and gets all pampered and loved, among other things

Reader is just overall really chill and optimistic, and Paul just gets to live in his lil bubble with them

if this is too much, I'm sorry! I'm really new to making requests anyways byeeee

Multi Paul x Reader!

mmmmokay i really like this one

the whole "come home to me" is some odysseus ass shit and I live for it

BY THE WAY- i'm in love with Epic! Odysseus. that's not relevant but wtv I love him

hcs under the cut!!

Being an assasin for The Order is MISERABLE work

Paul has to go through so much shit and violence and harassment to do his job

and it's so not worth it

there were times where he'd think "this is it, I'm so over, this is how it ends" and he'd find some peace in it

until he met you

You met casually, on one of Paul's rare grocery runs. He usually was too busy bouncing from job to job to have need for groceries, dining and dashing wherever he wanted around the globe.

but this had been a slow month and Paul needed cotton candy grapes

So, obviously, he goes to get some cotton candy grapes

and what does he find there but the prettiest person he's ever met

How... domestic?

He can't help himself, he chats you up

and he's sooooo full of himself, but so inexperienced at the same time

but, fuck it, he's cute

The transaction ends with an exchanging of phone numbers and a promise to meet later that night for drinks.

And so you do!

and then you meet up again

and again

until you've been "meeting up" twice a week for three months

you don't know that Paul has been hauling ass to make it back to your city between jobs

You don't even know Paul is an assassin for The Order.

he sure as shit isn't going to tell you

It's six months into this mess that Paul realizes he loves you

like.... loooooves you

This realization comes when a victim's bodyguard comes at his head with a sledgehammer, straight to the skull and knocking him down

He almost wavers, a familiar feeling of "oh, is this it? am I done now?" washing over him

before he remembers he's supposed to take you to dinner tomorrow night and picks his ass back up

He can't DIE, he has to go find out what kind of cologne you think smells best and get a haircut and invest in skincare for you

He can't die.... he has to take you out tomorrow

So, with a sudden rush of adrenaline, he finishes his job and sets off to make the best date of your life

He picks you up in a borrowed fancy car, calling in a favor from Machine Head, whose surprisingly on board with the whole thing

Like full "oh yeah I love love, go get laid man" type shit

give him the BMW beep beep hop In loser

But he's actually turning into quite the gentleman

"Y/n!! Hop in!" He grins at you, with a stupid, cocky veneer overlaying it all

and so you do, smiling as he leans over and opens the door for you from the inside

tonight should be perfect

"Oh, is that.... vanilla?" you asked with a smile, a familiar and comforting presence

"Your favorite scent!" he beams with smug pride, you have no idea how anal he had to be about colognes this morning, he's glad you like it

The date goes smoothly, and you're impressed with all the care Paul is obviously putting into this

"So.... Y/n.... You know how I'm just a normal dude?"

You raised an eyebrow, popping a mozzarella stick in your mouth "Is this about your powers?"

His jaw goes slack "Psshhht- wh- what? My powers?" he's losing grip on this, fast

but you gracefully dip your mozzarella stick in marinara, taking another bite "Uh, yeah, I've seen you on the news."

You chew in silence as Paul processes

"Oh- don't worry i'm not like a spy sent to kill you or anything. I don't really care that much." You eye him, narrowing them skeptically "but like.... you gonna make it official or what?"

He's thrown for a loop again

you've uncovered his secret and asked HIM out when he had plans for both scenarios

You were really something

God he loves you.

"Oh- Uhm-" he coughs into his elbow, looking back at you, his eyes darting around "Can I be your boyfriend?"

You smiled smugly, returning the cocky grin he's been giving you the last six months, and nodded "Yeah, sure"

It's a smug response, but the affection is palpable

He gets soooooo efficient at his job

now that he has you to come home to <3

[screamlet]

i wish you would write an outtake from what are your intentions where tommy tries to explain that he was sooooo confused by eddie and buck and eddieandbuck at first and it made him feel insane

(for the "i wish you would write" game)

i miss these boys! but here's something that could have happened in what are your intentions? this would probably be set during chapter 11. you don't have to have read the story for it to make sense.

notes: established relationship bucktommy; tommy pov complete; 1.4k; rated cute for cute

read on the ao3 with the rest of the story!

---

It happens once in a while, that their days off are on an actual weekend, and those feel weirdly special to Tommy. He's participating in something… normal: it's 9 AM and he's lying in bed with his boyfriend, their limbs tangled into some mess that's not spooning as much as thrown in the cutlery drawer. Evan's legs are so long and they like to wind around Tommy's like a pair of vines; every shift that tightens makes him laugh. Their hands are linked on top of the covers and they've got nowhere to be. This is as close to perfect as life can get. 

So of course, his brain thinks of Eddie. 

It seems wild now, about six months into their relationship, that Tommy ever thought Eddie and Evan had something going on, because they're just… Eddie-and-Evan. Once Evan kissed him that first time, it felt like that question was answered and that door was shut. But that kiss was so… 

"Can I ask you something weird?"

"You promise?" Evan asks.

"Promise what?"

"That it'll be weird."

Tommy bites his shoulder. "Now your expectations are too high, so kick them back down a little, huh?" Evan shrugs and pushes back against Tommy's chest. "That time with the basketball game, when you messed up Eddie's ankle, and I came to talk to you after—"

"You mean our first kiss," Evan croons, dripping with sap and affection. 

"Yeah, yeah, I guess." Tommy kisses his shoulder like he's making a point. "Actually, even before that, when I was hanging out with Eddie but not you, I kept thinking: did you guys ever…"

"Ever…"

Tommy takes their joined hands and pats Evan's dick through the covers. Evan bursts out laughing.

"What? That's how you ask?"

"I'm trying to deflect from the fact that it's a dumb question!"

Evan glances over his shoulder. "You think it's dumb?"

Tommy makes a face and makes sure he can see it. "Yeah, now I do, but when I first met Eddie and I didn't know you, I wondered if the two of you…"

Evan shakes his head. "No. It's Eddie."

"He's a good-looking guy and you really were a dense-as-hell bisexual if it never occurred to you. Seriously? No guy crush or drunken—"

"It's Eddie."

"Yeah, exactly! You guys are joined at the hip and when it was just me and him—"

"Joined at the hip, not joined at the dick. It's Eddie." Evan's quiet for a second, like he's thinking. "I think Chim or Hen made fun of me when he first joined because I was really jealous of him and how cool he was, and he'd been in the army. Then on one of our first shifts, we extracted a live grenade that a dude had in his thigh? And—"

"You what."

"Okay, maybe now it sounds like how I acted when I first met you, less jealousy and more acting like an idiot, but—"

"No, the live grenade. It was where?"

Evan turns around. "It was in a dude's thigh. It was a collectible, but then it turned out it was a live round inside."

"And you survived?"

"We did! Eddie was so cool. He extracted it, right, and put it in one of those black boxes. The guy had a ton of blood loss so we got him out, got out of the ambulance, and then when the bomb squad sent in their robot, the whole ambulance blew up. And then that was it. Jealousy over, we were friends." Evan turns his head again. "Did you think we were together or something?"

"Hold on, I'm processing the live grenade thing. It blew up an ambulance. What the hell is your life?"

"Not the weirdest thing that ever happened to me."

"I'm so, so aware of that."

Evan nudges his elbow into Tommy's stomach. "What'd you think of me and Eddie?"

"So… you've gotta remember, okay? I walk around the world with a pair of big gay goggles that are invisibly welded to my head and they never come off, so… I was hanging out with Eddie and he was always talking about you! Always saying how much he loved you, you were his best friend, Christopher loved you, telling me you were so lovable, you were just the best guy in the world, and then Chris couldn't stop talking about you and he loved you so, you know."

"Huh."

Tommy unwraps himself from Evan's legs and sits up on his heels. "But that's the thing, he was so straight about it and—I can't explain it! All these gay things were coming out of his mouth, but all the vibes were like, even when I'm peeing I actively try not to think about my dick too much. I didn't get it. I still don't! And then Lucy compared you guys to the raptors in Jurassic Park, and how he was the bait but you were the clever girl about to jump me."

Evan laughs and tilts his head on the pillow, looking coy. "Really? I don't even know what that means."

"It made sense when I was insane, and I was completely insane. I wasn't even jealous, just confused!" Tommy huffs. "Confused and seriously horny when I got to your place to talk, but I didn't know!"

"Did you have to know?" Evan asks.

It rushes out of Tommy before he has time to think about it: "I mean, yeah. You two are pretty big guys, like, you could still punch me in the face if I read you wrong and hit on you. Not that you would, either of you, but." Evan reaches for his hand and Tommy half-smiles. "The gay goggles, right? They do more than set off awooga sirens when a hot guy walks by. You've gotta be sure about that stuff."

"Is that why you didn't call me?" Evan asks. "About getting a beer after we met up at Harbor and you abandoned me for Eddie?"

"Well. Yeah, kinda. I figured if this straight guy wants to hang out again, we'll hang out again. But if I ask you out—"

"You could have asked, though. Hanging out, just friends?"

Tommy takes a deep breath. "Even then, I think I knew I couldn't ask you out like that. Platonically. So I wanted to be sure. And you kept looking at me like you didn't want to be "just" friends, so—" Tommy groans and shifts around again so he's sitting cross legged on the bed. "Do you see what I mean? You drive me insane."

Evan reaches out and touches his chin, thumb in his cleft. "I love you. You're really sweet and completely insane."

"Obviously I'm fine now. Don't give me that look." 

Evan drags him back down to the bed. He tangles his legs with Tommy's again. This time they're facing each other, the better for Evan to wrap his arms around Tommy's back and kiss him, ensnare him forever. "Was that weird enough for you?" Tommy asks between kisses. 

"Getting there, but I've got a high tolerance," Evan says with a grin. "It's funny, though, you say those things—lots of people have said that about me and Eddie—but, I don't know. Literally never a thought in my head. Even when I used to go out with him and Chris and people would act like I'm also Chris's dad, I'd feel like: hey, they think I'm a dad, that's so cool. Not the Eddie part."

"So that's no to Eddie, yes to baby, got it." 

They freeze, suddenly, because that's—not a thing they've talked about—and maybe it's way too early to talk about—

"Can I ask you something really scary?" Evan asks quietly. "Can we put that question in a black box for a little bit and check it out later?"

"Leave it for when we've got our tactical gear and a bomb robot? Yeah, absolutely. I haven't even had coffee."

"We haven't even had coffee," Evan whines. "Let's go have coffee."

"Hey." Tommy holds him closer and kisses him. "I'll wait, okay? No rush."

Evan stares at him and nods slowly. "Yeah." When he kisses Tommy again, it's sure, not scared or worried. Confident, again. "We're not going anywhere." Tommy agrees, kisses him again, and stays. He loves him and he stays. 

---

read on the ao3 with the rest of the story!

[bonbonly]

Sooooo first of all you haven't seen me here imagining things for lando bc I was not, somebody took over my account and i'm sending this thot to you bc it would be a shame to not share whatever my friend has cooked up there (it started out as a charles thot but the more my friend thought about it it fit better to a certain papaya twink than to our reigning ferrari princess) ANYWAY...

Streamer!Lando but also only fans creator!lando. Started out with CoD streams, maybe a bit of Rainbow Six, is decently successful with it. has a blast with his mates online but after some time he's frustrated with it bc he'd love to create something of his own. not just stream and showcase other people's work, do something himself yk?

So he starts a little photography account where he posts some impressions from his daily life and his fans love it but it just doesn't hit the spot for him. Nothing really does until one time when he's about to send some low effort nudes to some random girl he thinks fuck it and puts some effort into it, poses himself, adjusts the lighting, sets up the tripod to get some special angles and what can i say…

He likes it. Loves it even. Loves it more than the nudes he gets back. Just thinking about staging himself gets him hard again. So he does what every normal human being with a voyeurism kink does, opens an only fans. But on the down low. Nobody needs to know that it's him. He starts simple, nothing explicit yet, just his chiseled abs and pecs on display, a bedsheet draped delicately low across his lap, showcasing his tiny waist beautifully, his head just out of frame.

Then he upgrades to videos. the best microphone on the market, catching up every little moan and gasp he makes imagining the hundreds of people watching him jerk off. a high-quality camera recording every little droplet of sweat running down his torso when he's bouncing on a big silicone dick later. Mood-lighting, that makes every spurt of cum on his stomach glisten in the camera.

He does numbers on the platform, skyrocketing to the top 1% of creators in less than a month. He gets off on the thought that maybe some of his Twitch fans are unknowingly watching him on OF too. But he's not afraid of being discovered. He's careful not to mix the two worlds. He has it handled.

That is until you stumble over some pics of an OF creator that look suspiciously like some nudes you got a while ago from a certain high-profile streamer…

- 🍪

well 🍪 anon, you've outdone yourself and for that im going to ask you to start building a house on my campsite (im never letting you leave) can imagine the way your brows must furrow when you glance at your phone, your laptop and then back to your phone. maybe you even hold the devices side by side and notice the same details.

the glistening torso, the veins on his cock as his hands wrap around it. and lets say he - as a streamer - never responded back to you after he sent you those nudes, it was just a small thrill anyway for him so nothing too serious so you raise an eyebrow and think to yourself what would be the best way to get this man's attention again, he didn't even respond to you when you sent him your nudes back!

so using the same name you had on twitch - which was how you even met lando since you had donated a hefty amount to his stream - you subscribe to his OF and send him a donation there, maybe a teasing message only meant for him to see, but the message is clear.

you know it's him. and he might've been a bit confused at first until he finally realized that this was the very girl that made him understand himself better to starting that OF page. he probably smirks, tugging at his curls and thinking about how to approach this because obviously these two worlds have to be separate.

so after one night when he places a plug up his ass, his stomach coated with his cum, he might give you the honor of sending you more personal photos, just for you since you're doing such a good job at keeping his secret. he'll ask for you to send some back and there's probably no conversation going on, no hi how are you? hey what'd you think of this video?

because he knows you're watching each one, knows you're probably touching yourself on your bed thinking its his hand and not yours thats covered in your slick. he has the videos of you himself, your fingers deep in your cunt moaning his name while watching his videos. that knowledge alone is enough to keep him going, as long as you don't try to reveal his true identity.

little does he know that you miiiiiiight be a bit influenced from your own greed to try and make him bend for a more... personal fan interaction.

[hoodzgyal]

HEAR ME OUT ON THIS i feel like frat!hal would like SO film y'all fucking like there's no way he wouldn't 💀 also he's totally making a sex tape to watch later when ur busy or sum and he needs yk encouragement 😝 if not then ik SOMEBODY you write for does !!

- 🪽

RRRRRRRAHHHHHHHH I LITERALLY SCREECHED WHEN I SAW THIS FUCK pleaseee you don’t get it !!!! hal has the camera set up on a nightstand as he fucks you, making sure to the angle just perfect enough to “capture your essence,” or whatever bullshit he likes to call it.

for his birthday you gave him a blowie (of course), but this time you let him record it. there’s something tantalizing about the way your eyes glint with mischief before you do something that makes him moan in pleasure. it’s been a year and three months since that video’s been filmed, yet he still uses that eight minute and thirty six second video as motivation when he’s missing you on breaks. yummy !!!!!!!!!

my first thoughts of who else would be into filming is definitely dick. he’s sooooo into that it’s insane.

the difference between hal and dick is that dick gets off on the idea of embarrassing it is to have these moments recorded for all posterity. to him, there’s something really seductive about keeping record of these moments, and you can hear in the way he talks about you on camera. there’s an air of possessiveness that only really occurs in these moments.

he’s murmuring into the camera’s microphone, one hand facing the camera toward you as his other hand is weaving through your hair, pushing your head up and down on his dick.

“look at my pretty angel, hm?” he’d sneer, a jealous smile settling on his rosy features, “bet that bastard from your job would love to see this, huh?

he’s also the type to shove the camera in your face as he’s drilling your shit from behind. you look absolutely tore up; your eyes are hazy, there’s hickies all over your neck, and your hair is beyond fucked up. and yet he’s smiling so lovingly, rubbing the column of your neck with his thumb as he breathes, “smile for the camera, princess! look at you, such a pretty whore for me.”

[kookygobbledygook]

I want to talk quickly about the four reasons Australia could never have a president like Trump, and this isn't a dig at the US or it's citizens. And it's not holding up Australia as some sort of becon of government, because as you'll see there are so many flaws in our system. This is about government structure and voting policy. It is also so, so funny to think about.

1. Preferential voting: A.K.A raked voting. Unlike the U.S system which is most votes wins, this takes into account second and third choices of voters. It means that it takes into account not only who people like most but also who people like least. Essentially our system has a "I don't want A to win, I want B to lose," clause which is so petty and I love it.

2. Compulsory voting. Everyone has to vote, or you get fined. Now, I know that most of you think that would be crap, but think about this; no voter suppression, because everyone has to vote. No point in voter fraud because ballot numbers have to line up with the population. You don’t have to make sure your voter registration is up to date because you just do it once when you turn 18, and you stay in the system forever because you're always gonna need to be registered. And the government has to make sure voting is accessible to everyone because everyone has to vote. Plus you get a democracy sausage.

3. We don't vote for a prime minister. We vote for a party, and the leader of that party gets to be in charge. Now Americans probably are thinking "we do that too." Not quite. You see, if all the citizens are hating on a prime minister too much and their party is getting antsy about the polls, they can have a leadership spill and nominate a new head of their party, who will become prime minister without an election. Since 2007 we had Kevin Rudd who was ousted by Julia Gillard who was ousted by Kevin again who was voted out and replaced by Tony Abbott who was ousted by Malcom Turnbull who was ousted by Scott Morrison who was voted out and replaced by Anthony Albanese. That seven PMs over three elections, two of them the same guy. You think Trump wouldn't have been pushed out in his first six months?

4. Because we are still part if the commonwealth King Charles is still our head of state and has the power to fire a Prime minister. It's kind of happened before. I hate the fact that Charles is our head of state and I don't believe he should have the power to dismiss an official elected by the Australian people. But if Trump was our Prime Minister it would be sooooo funny to watch Charles fire him.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

WIP Wednesday - Pedro's Birthday Version

Hey, it's been a minute. Thanks for the tags: @ace-turned-confused, @penvisions, @itwasntimethatdidit40, and @mysterious-moonstruck-musings. Uh. So, here's the deal. My Google Docs is full of fics that are like... 10-60% complete and there's a lot of smut sooooo...

IN HONOR OF PEDRO DAY I AM SHARING A LOT OF HORNY THINGS. (Six to be exact.)

First is my entry for @guiltyasdave and @sizzlingcloudmentality's writing thru the seasons challenge. I've had a HELLUVA time figuring out the story and outlining it. What started as one idea turned into another that turned into another and now I'm 6,500 words into a fic that I think to tell the whole story will be over 10k. So, apologies for being late but I bit off a lot. DBF Javier Peña will do that. Anyways, here's titty sucking in a barn:

“We shouldn’t,” he groans against your neck, stopping the exploration of his hands across your body. “Your dad—” “Don’t talk about him right now,” you whisper, tugging at his belt. He doesn’t even argue, he seals his lips back over your skin, against the pulse that only beats for him. His once hesitant hands now move, sliding along the hem of your tank top. Javier’s belt comes loose under your fingers, his breath hitching when you brush your hand against the bulge of his jeans. He’s hard, straining against the worn denim. You did this to him, and that knowledge alone, sends a rush of power through you. Your hands meet his at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up, exposing the light pink lace of your bra. “Cherry,” he whispers, unable to take his eyes off of you. "I've wanted this," he confesses as he kisses his way down your chest. "God help me." Your heart hammers in your chest at his revelation. The past couple of months of stolen glances, of daydreaming about his hands on you, of resisting whatever forbidden feeling this is… and he'd been wanting you too. He presses you harder against the barn wall. His fingers running up your back, along the band of your bra, unhooking the clasp. The lace falls away, his brows furrowing when he gets the first sight of your bare chest. He cups the swell of your tits in his hands, thumbs dusting over your hardened nipples, pebbled by the cool summer storm and his touch. You arch against the rough wood as he lowers his head, placing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. When he takes your nipple into his mouth, you gasp, threading your fingers through his hair as he licks, laves, and swirls his tongue. The sight of your breast in his mouth his strong hand cupping the other, sends a gush of slick along your panties. Hot and forbidden passion for him pools low in your belly, your thighs rubbing against one another to try to qualm the ache for Javier. His mouth releases your nipple with a wet pop before he moves to the other breast. You whimper when he leaves a gentle bite against your nipple, soothing it with his tongue before he kisses his way back up to your lips.

Y'all remember my subby Jackson Joel weed fic Green? Don't quote me on it, but I'm TRYING to get a follow up done before 4/20. Here's hoping. Anyways, a sample:

“Stand up,” you whisper against his ear, “and undress for me." He nods. The small grimace and pop of his knees as he slowly rises makes you love him even more. You stand to the side, watching him undress, feeling so lucky you get to witness Joel Miller in all of his glory. He tosses his denim shirt to the side, the metallic clink of his belt unbuckling makes your heart skip. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans, your mouth waters when he slides them down his thick thighs, and steps out of them, leaving him only clad in his boxers. “All of it, baby,” you purr, your eyes greedily roaming over his body. He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, hesitating for just a moment before pulling them down. He stands before you, completely naked, his hard cock jutting out and bobbing. Your mouth instantly waters at the sight of him, gloriously naked in front of you, the setting sun behind Jackson Peak filtering through your curtains making his golden skin shimmer. "Turn around slowly," you command lowly. "I want to see all of you." He obeys, turning in a slow circle. You drink in the sight of his strong back, the curve of his ass, the powerful lines of his thighs. “God, you’re so fucking hot baby,” you purr, feeling like the luckiest girl in all of the apocalypse. When he turns and faces you again, his cheeks are flushed. “Oh stop. Now you know what it’s like,” you tease, walking towards him, before you sink down on your knees in front of him and place a kiss against the top of his thigh. Your hands slide up the back of his legs, cupping his ass and squeezing gently. A low groan escapes him, his muscles tensing under your touch. You push him forward, your nose and mouth landing against the nest of curls above his cock. You lick a long line against him there. "You're being so good for me," you muse against his skin. "So obedient. Do you like being good for me, Joel?"

MORE SMUT UNDER CUT, Starring Dieter, Clint, Frankie, and MORE Javier Peña

Dieter x Clint x Reader. Bruh. Buckle up for this.

You feel each heavy step in your body as Clint slowly prowls over, the top of his jeans opened, the metal of his belt clinking with each step. He stops in front of you, staring down at you. “Open,” he commands. You instantly obey, parting your lips as he frees himself from his boxer briefs. Fuck, he’s just like Dieter, but a little thicker and longer, with a prominent vein running along the shaft. A delicious bead of precum glistens for you as your tongue darts out to taste him. Clint hisses through his teeth as you tongue at his tip, his hand immediately coming up to tangle into your hair. "Such a good girl," Clint praises. “She is, isn’t she?” Dieter asks, his hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, tilting your face upward. “You like how my girl’s mouth feels?” Clint hums an affirmative as you part your lips wider, letting him feed his cock into your mouth inch by inch. He’s heavier, more insistent than Dieter as your jaw stretches to accommodate him. “Fuck,” Clint snarls. His stoic composure cracking as your warm mouth envelops him. Dieter chuckles against your ear, his hands sliding down your body to grip your hips. "She's good at taking cock, isn't she? Should see how she takes it in her tight little pussy." Clint’s hips jerk forward when he feels the vibration of you moaning at Dieter’s filthy words. He glides his cock deeper into your mouth as Dieter’s fingers trail along your body, pinching and pulling at the stiff peaks of your nipples. You’re pinned between them again—Clint’s cock heavy on your tongue, Dieter’s cock jutting into your back. Clint’s head tilts back, a long, low groan slipping out as he begins to fuck slowly into your mouth. “Feels so fuckin’ good,” he growls, eyes half-closed in pleasure you’re providing him. “Better than I thought it would.”

And now Javi x wife x whatever hot lady you want (but her name is Miranda for the fic)

Your eyes lock with Javi’s across the room. His gaze is hot, as he watches Miranda’s hands on you. “If you’d like, I can use some oil now,” she suggests. “Be a shame to ruin that dress baby,” Javi’s deep voice speaks up. “Why don’t you come here and I’ll take it off for you?” Your eyes widen at his suggestion. Your legs instinctively rise, and move towards him, standing between his wide spread legs. He pulls down the fabric of your dress, the fabric pooling at your feet. “You look beautiful baby,” he lowly whispers. “Tonight’s for you. Take what you want. I want to watch.” You bend forward, and capture his mouth in a searing kiss, trying to thank you for this gift. He pulls away, grabbing your ass and pushing your pussy against his lips before he leaves a kiss against it. “She’ll always be mine, won’t she?” You groan and nod. “Now,” he grabs your hips and turns you. “Go get a massage from your new friend.” He playfully swats at your ass to move you forward. You should feel shy as you walk towards Miranda, someone you’ve only known since this afternoon, but the way her dark brown eyes watch you, full of wanton lust, you feel amazing.

A couple nights ago, while talking to some lovely friends, I put down the first few sentences of a follow up to Cum Pants Frankie Tide.

He likes how safe he feels with you. How he knows you’ll hold him tight, whisper away all that ails him, silence the second thoughts. You’ve become his anchor. It’s in the small things you do for him—how you remember he likes the crusts cut off his sandwiches, the gentle press of your palm against his back when anxiety tightens his chest, the way you never blink twice at his laundry basket full of cum-stained underwear. He likes that you understand and accept his shame, that you've accepted it as just another part of him, like his dimple or the way he sneezes three times in a row. Never once have you made him feel any less than whole.When he was with others, there were always silent expectations. Their eyes would narrow when he’d share—or cum—too much. He’d see the subtle shift as they mentally cataloged his flaws, filing them away before they’d leave him.He hasn’t been with someone in over a year, deciding it was easier to not burden anyone else with his shame. But you’re different. Ever since that first night in his truck, your lips tasting like sweet ice cream… you’ve never wielded his vulnerability against him. It’s been a slow three months, you’re always respectful of the boundaries he’s built around him… but tonight feels different.

And finally Suburban Sparks:

"Keep your hands on the glass," he orders, gripping your hips firmly, burying himself inside you. You cry out, overwhelmed by the fullness and the delicious stretch. The window fogs up from your heavy breathing, your fingers leaving streaks as they slide against the glass. "Look out there," Javi grunts between thrusts. "Anyone could see you getting fucked by me." The lights of the city begin to blur in your pleasure addled eyes, the drag of Javi’s cock against your walls as he fucks into you makes you dizzy, his strong arms and the window stops you from collapsing. Javi pulls you up, your back molding to his solid chest as he presses you higher against the window. Powerful and deep thrusts own you, making sure everyone knows you’re his. Your slick palms try to grasp at the glass as he grunts behind you, pounding into your accepting cunt. Javi lifts your leg to give himself a better angle to fuck into you harder and deeper, your tits flattening against the glass. “Jesus—fuck—you feel so good,” he grinds out through clenched teeth. “My dirty girl, getting fucked against the window, you like that, huh?” You moan an affirmative, long yes, your eyes rolling to the back of your head overwhelmed by Javier’s touch. “That’s my girl,” he licks a line from your neck to your ear. “Look at all those people down there, they don’t know you’re about to be filled with my cum, now do they?”

Okaaaaay. Well, that's it. IDK if there are any typos because when I type porn I make a lot of mistakes. That's why I have darling @devineconjuring

Tagging: @schnarfer, @mothandpidgeon, @sawymredfox, @secretelephanttattoo, @moonlitbirdie

@joelmillerisapunk, @bitchesuntitled, @beefrobeefcal, @yopossum, @evolnoomym

@sp00kymulderr, @almostfoxglove, @arcanefox207, @sizzlingcloudmentality, @guiltyasdave and whoever else sees this

[vinylmango]

Flower Delivery (pt. 3)

(ex!Nicholas alexander chavez x ex!black!reader)

Requests:

no cause you’re most recent nicholas chavez fic ATE DOWNNN girl pls write another i beg. or literally just other nicholas chavez fics cause your writing is incredible!! - 🍒

And

I know you literally just posted flower delivery part 2 but I need part three! It’s sooooo good!!!! - anon

Description: Just when you think your life is back on track and you landed a new leading role, he’s thrust back into your life when you find out he’s in the show too. Now as you start filming, you aren’t really sure what you want anymore.

Warnings: obsessive behaviors (cont’d), he’s your scene partner…turned kinda lover (kissing only), Ryan Murphy jumpscare (yikes), mentions of episode 4 of grotesquerie (just one scene)

Word count: 2.9k words

Note: Sorry for the delay on part 3, work has been working lol, but I really appreciate all of the kindness and love everyone has been showing my posts/page <3 I ended up writing this four different times before I finally decided I liked it lol and I decided to make it longer to make up for my lack of content since I posted the last one.

Also I know the timeline is a little wonky in this in terms of Nicholas’ filming schedule for Monsters and Grotesquerie, so let’s just pretend he finished filming for Monsters completely before starting filming for Grotesquerie.

Thanks for the request 🍒 and anon!

part one part two

masterlist

You couldn’t believe it, it was almost too good to be true. There hadn’t been any surprise deliveries or week-night break-ins for the past six months. It was almost like he just disappeared for the past six months, and part of you was relieved since you no longer had to worry about his annoying and unhinged behavior; but another part of you secretly missed him, although you had been trying to convince yourself that it was only because you had gotten so used to his presence that now it was just…different.

Since the last time he had showed up at your place unannounced you had finished the project you had been working on and landed a new lead role in a brand new Ryan Murphy project, Grotesquerie.

Although you were well aware of the controversies surrounding the director, your new agency convinced you to take the role. It was so different from anything you had ever done before, and you had been wanting to try the horror genre. It was so new, in fact, that you hadn’t even had the opportunity to meet the rest of the cast since you hadn’t auditioned in the traditional way and Ryan himself had asked you to take the role.

You were up bright and early to be on set for the first day of filming for Grotesquerie. You arrived on set at 6:30 and headed straight to the hair and makeup trailer after briefly saying hello to Ryan, the production team, and the other writers that were on set. You still hadn’t seen your scene partners, assuming they were in hair and makeup as well.

You fell into a comfortable conversation with the hair stylist and makeup artist, telling them about your other project and how you were a fairly new actor.

“Girl, don’t talk down about yourself like that. Everyone starts somewhere.” The makeup artist, Darryl, told you squeezing your shoulder as Keisha, your hair stylist, nodded in the mirror.

“Thanks.” You smiled at the pair of them before you all turned when your trailer door opened. A woman with bright red hair and green eyes walking in with a small smile on her face.

“Hey Sue!” Darryl and Keisha smiled and waved at her.

“Hey D. Hi Keisha!” The middle aged woman smiled. “Hi (y/n), it’s great to meet you. I’m Sue. I’m just here to make sure your wardrobe is correct for the upcoming scene.” She explained as you nodded. “We had a slight change to the filming schedule to work around scheduling conflicts for some of our crew so we’ll be filming a little out of order today.”

“Oh ok. No worries.” You smiled. “What’s the change?”

“Our intimacy coordinator has to pick her son up from school early today so we have to get the scenes she’s involved with out of the way first.” She explained. “When you’re done with hair and makeup and have your wardrobe on then she’ll quickly meet with you to discuss the way it will be filmed.”

“Ok. Thanks for the heads up, Sue.” You smiled again, though Darryl and Keisha could tell you were becoming anxious when Sue left.

“Don’t be nervous, (Y/n). Sarah, our intimacy coordinator, is amazing.” Keisha reassured you.

“And I know this is obviously your job, but the actor is…hot.” Darryl added after a slight pause. You and Keisha laughed as he pretended to fan himself.

Hair and makeup finished shortly after that and you were dressed and ready to go after Keisha made sure that the habit you wore in the scene was placed correctly.

You exited the trailer as you noticed a dark haired woman with curly hair was talking to a tall, broad man, dressed in a jacket with a thick white towel wrapped around his waist…your scene partner. Darryl was right. At least from the back, the man was hot and muscular.

Your hands grew clammy as you walked up to them, Sarah smiling and waving you over. You wore a small smile as you approached. The smile was replaced with your jaw nearly dropping when the man who was to be your scene partner turned around causing you to almost stop in your tracks. “(Y/n) have you met Nicholas yet?” Sarah asked as you joined their conversation.

“Yeah. We’ve…uh…met before.” You said, fighting against the lump in your throat that was forming. Your mouth was so dry it felt like you might choke. You swallowed visibly as Nicholas smirked at you.

You glanced over his appearance. Although the jacket he was wearing was pretty loose around him and pretty much hid his upper body completely, you could still tell he was way more muscular than he had been when you saw him last.

“Great!” She smiled with a clap of her hands. “Let’s head inside and talk through the scene then.” You and Nicholas nodded as you followed her inside the filming location. “Alright so the way the scene currently lays this out is (Y/n) you’ll come from the doorway to sit in this chair, Nicholas you’ll come from the bathroom there and then walk over to the door, close it, and then stand in front of the chair. You’ll say your lines and then (y/n) you’ll stand and you’ll walk backwards until you get to here.” She stopped at the dresser that was sitting below the cross that was on the wall. “Nicholas you’ll lift (y/n) and put her down sitting on the dresser and then the scene will play out…any questions about that?” She asks as you both shake your heads no. “Alright. Anything either of you don’t feel comfortable doing?”

“I’m ok.” Nicholas said, though you could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face.

“I’m good.” You agreed, looking at Sarah instead.

“Great!” She smiled. “And the intimacy garments are ok? Do either of you want a different one?”

“This one is ok, thanks Sarah.” You told her as Nicholas agreed.

“It’s good, thanks Sarah.”

“Alright, great. Thank you guys. I’ll be behind the camera the whole time so if we need to do a few takes I’ll be here to help with anything. If you want to try something else at any time we can do that too.” She explained as you both nodded.

How did you always manage to get yourself into situations like these?

She excused herself, telling the pair of you that she was off to get the production team and Ryan to let them know you both were good to go. Nicholas turned to you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, and an almost wolfish grin on his face.

You had to admit that he did look really good. The way he was leaning allowed you to see his abs between the gap in the jacket since he hadn’t zipped it up. “You’re staring.”

“You’re the one smirking at me.” You redirected as he stood up off the wall and took a step closer to you.

“Like what you see?” His voice seemed deeper, huskier, as his dark eyes scanned over you before settling back on yours. He sent you a wink as Ryan and the production team followed by Sarah came back and Nicholas walked past you to his mark, handing his jacket to an assistant as you went into the hallway to wait for the scene to start.

“Action!” You heard the sound of the water shut off and you peaked your head into Father Charlie’s room before coming to stand in the doorway.

He glanced back before walking to stand a few paces in front of you next to the bed, the towel low on his hips and water droplets cascading down his chest. His hair was pushed back from his face and wet as if he really had just gotten out of the shower. “You were watching me. Earlier in the rec room.” He paused, watching your expression but you remained neutral. “Anything worth seeing?”

“It…It was…” you paused for a moment, letting out a breath. “An exhalation of God’s glory through physical prowess.”

“Yeah?” Nicholas sat on the bed, his face turned slightly down but his eyes raised to look over at you. A slow smile appeared on his face. That was not scripted, you knew that for sure. “It’s kinda become my side hustle.” He said after a second. Back to the script. He said his other lines as you continued to sit in the chair, back stiff against the back of the chair as your hands laid in your lap.

“They say…it’s a sin of the flesh, but, I say-“ he began to say as you cut him off with your lines.

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, which is in you? Therefore honor God with your bodies.” You responded softly as he nodded, breathing out a simple ‘Yes’.

He stood up from the bed and stopped to stand in front of you, your gaze following him. He smirked at you, something the camera didn’t catch, before dropping the expression and walking to the door and closing it. To say your heart was beating fast would’ve been an understatement.

“This is exactly what they’re talking about right now at the Vatican.” You zoned out for a moment after he started delivering his lines, walking to stand in front of you again. You zoned back in when you heard the end of his line “celibacy, for those in the cloth.”

He reached over to you as you sharply inhaled when his fingers played with the cross necklace you wore. That wasn’t scripted either. You could see that he enjoyed catching you off guard and no one was yelling cut because the extra touches made sense for your characters.

“That’s…That’s difficult to imagine.” Your voice caught and he smirked as you looked up at him and swallowed thickly. It was an honest mistake on your part, but Nicholas was eating it up. At moments it was hard to tell whether he was currently in the mindset of Father Charlie Mayhew or Nicholas Chavez.

He licked his lips, still holding onto the necklace, his voice lowering. “Is it really so difficult?” He said more but you zoned out again when his hand released your necklace and unbuttoned your vest. He was delivering his lines while standing to the side of you, bent down in your face, so your faces were only inches apart.

You dropped the newspaper in your hand as he continued unbuttoning your vest, slowly. You hadn’t meant to, but no one yelled cut again, so you assumed it was fine. “The church is dying, Mother Eva.” He said as you breathed out again, not breaking eye contact. You could see in his eyes that he was amused, he definitely was enjoying this scene.

He delivered more lines and bent in closer to you and you couldn’t help your instinctive reaction. Your lips parted as if you were preparing for him to kiss you, like he used to do. All of this was like a flashback to how it used to be, and yeah, he had been unhinged but there was no denying that he was incredibly passionate.

“They know that change must come.” He said softly, your nose touching his before he stepped back completely from you, this time standing directly in front of you. He looked down at you as you took the opportunity to look over his body before looking down at the towel like you were supposed to do. You followed the scene instructions and pulled the towel from around his waist, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. You looked back up slowly at his face, your lips slightly parted as you watched him.

“It is still a sin.” You said as he picked your hand up and kissed your hand and wrist. He walked you over to the dresser like the scene outlined.

“We are…and we always will be.” He backed you up into the dresser, your shoes hitting it causing it to bump against the wall.

“Sinners.” You finished, practically whispering as your eyes looked over his face as he picked you up onto the dresser, his hands running down your sides as he stood in between your legs and your lips practically touched.

“So fuck it.” You could feel the movement of his lips against yours as he spoke, pulling the vest from your arms as you pushed your chest into him to get the vest off. He began unbuttoning your shirt and pulled the edge off one shoulder as he began to kiss there, your hands going to his hair.

Someone behind the camera coughed and the loud “Cut!” pulled you both completely out of the scene. You let out a gasp as Nicholas pressed a lingering kiss to your neck before stepping back.

You blinked a few times, your hands holding onto the edge of the dresser, as you let out a breath. You didn’t miss the way Nicholas wore a smug expression, but your smile widened when you pointed down subtly.

Nicholas raised his shoulders in a shrug as he secured the towel back around his waist. “Let’s take 15 and run it again. Thanks Jerry for ruining that take!” Ryan called passive aggressively. Jerry, the man who coughed, looked as if he wanted the earth to swallow him up.

You slid off the dresser and walked to your trailer, not noticing the way Nicholas excused himself just after you, easily falling into step behind you.

You fell onto the couch with a huff, annoyed at yourself for being reminded of the past. You were over him, there was no way you were going to entertain him again. All he did was bring chaos into your life.

“He broke into your apartment, remember?” You whispered to yourself, eyes widening when your trailer door opened and in walked Nicholas, closing and locking the door behind him.

“I know you still feel the same way I do.” He started as you shook your head. He stepped closer to you, standing in front of you much like the scene you had just had.

“You’re wrong.” He shook his head, smiling at your stubbornness.

“I saw the way you were looking at me. You got into it. It wasn’t just acting.”

“Says the guy who just tried to give me an unscripted hickey.” You retorted defensively, standing up suddenly and poking him. He caught your hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he pulled you closer, leaning down so he was only a couple inches away from your lips.

“Tell me you don’t want this.” He whispered as you remained quiet. “Tell me you don’t want me to ki-“ He was cut off by your lips crashing into his. You weren’t even thinking at that point. He was intoxicating, everything about him was intoxicating and you knew that you should just stay away, but it was him. It was hard to make rational decisions when he was so close and his very presence cleared all of the rationality from your brain.

He pulled back after the heated kiss, a smirk on his face as he looked at you. “So I was right.” He remarked, there goes the cockiness.

“Oh my God, just shut up.” You rolled your eyes before he obliged and pulled you close, his hands traveling up and down your body as yours ran through his hair and held onto his shoulders and biceps. He broke the kiss again to plant kisses from your lips to your neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin on your neck, surely leaving a mark that you weren’t sure how you would explain.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” You said, but you didn’t pull away from him. “The camera is going to see all of the marks you're leaving and we won’t be able to explain it away.”

“We’re filming a sex scene. It’ll be fine.” He decided as your nails ran down his arms, careful of the makeup and special effects on his back.

He groaned against your lips when a loud knock at the trailer door interrupted your activities. “They’re ready for you on set. Hair and makeup is just going to do some touch ups before we shoot again.” An assistant called as you placed a hand on his chest and stepped back.

“See you on set.” You said before stepping out of the trailer and walking over towards where Keisha and Darryl were waiting to do touch ups.

“(Y/n), why is your makeup so messed up around your mouth? Y'all didn’t even shoot a kiss yet.”

Let me know what else you’d like to see or share any ideas you might have!

[hugshughes]

mirrorball M. Estapa

Mark Estapa x fem!reader

synopsis - You realize Mark Estapa is the one person you don't have to perform for.

wc - 4.8k (#proud)

contains - cursing, slight miscommunication, upset reader, frustrated reader, fluff asf, kissing, cuddling. as always lmk!

an - LIGHTLY EDITED!!! sorry if there's any mistakes! THIS ONE WAS FUNNNNNN. i love mark so much so this was cute. it does take a long time to get to the point though so.. sorry! this song is also everything to me so yeah! oh also, betty love interest has been determined!!!! connor bedard is like honestly the perfect guy for it i feel like, cause he's young and stuff. and JH86 already has illicit affairs sooooo don't be mad at me! i hope you LOVE this! as always reblogs and replies are very much appreciated!

-

i want you to know, i'm a mirrorball. i'll show you every version of yourself tonight.

You'd always been somewhat of a people pleaser. Your happiness had almost always stemmed from whether or not the people around you were happy. It started when you were little, because of how your parents would praise you when you'd take care of your 3 little siblings for them.

Your parents were always working, trying to make enough so that your family could live comfortably, but it had you parenting your siblings for all of your childhood. All of your nurturing at home caused you to do that to everyone you cared about. Always being called the "mom of the friend group." You would do anything you could for people around you to be happy with you, no matter if it meant you were miserable or not.

Now that you were in college, you felt weird not having someone depend on you every second like you do back at home. You had a lot of friends in school now, and lots of people liked that you would never say no to them, taking advantage of your kindness.

You'd met Ethan Edwards in a business class freshman year and he immediately took you in and brought you everywhere. He thought you were cool and fun and one of the few girls he could be friends with that didn't make it weird because of his "status" on the campus. He'd brought you to a hockey house party sophomore year and it's where you met Mark Estapa.

i'll get you out on the floor, shimmering beautiful. and when i break, it's in a million pieces.

Mark had been enthralled by you when you met. Your caring nature and kindness absolutely melted him. He watched you be the designated driver everywhere you went, take care of all of your girlfriends when they got plastered, and in his opinion, let them walk all over you. See, he loved your caring nature, to an extent. He loved how sweet you are, but he hated how other people took such an advantage of it. Once he'd even told your friend to fuck off when he'd seen her trying to make you feel bad for something that was completely on her.

hush, when no one is around my dear. you'll find me on my tallest tiptoes, spinnin' in my, highest heels, love. shinin' just for you.

While Mark loved how nurturing you were, he loved even more when you weren't so tense, and taking care of everyone, and you were just carefree. The first time he'd ever seen you like this was in February of your sophomore year, six months after he met you. You guys were at a party, that was really a "hangout" but while you guys drank, where none of those friends of yours had been invited. He'd never seen you that happy.

You were sitting right by him on the couch, your Ugg slippers on the rug in front of you while you tucked your legs into your chest, a drink in your hand. You were laughing and making jokes, not having to stress over whether your "friends" were about to get drugged because they would just grab drinks from anyone offering.

You'd always admired Mark. Since the night you met him, you just loved everything he did. How gentle he was even though his hockey stats would say otherwise. You loved how he always seemed to have a smile on his face, and how much he cared for you. He was one of the first people ever who cared for you the way you cared for everyone else.

hush, i know they said the end is near. but i'm still on my tallest tiptoes, spinnin' in my highest heels, love. shinin' just for you.

You had been in love with him since June. Your friend group had gotten together in the summer and spent a weekend on a lake in Michigan, near where Mark's parents lived. One night his parents had invited your group to his childhood home to have dinner and when you'd seen his interactions with his parents, you were a puddle. He was the sweetest guy you'd ever met, but you were convinced you couldn't have him. And he thought the same things about you, sadly enough.

Unknowingly to you, Mark had fallen in complete love with you the same exact day. When he watched you help his mom out with dinner then again afterwards with dishes his heart pounded. Ethan was teasing him all night. Ethan had done everything but tell you guys that you liked the other to try to get you together, sending you two out on drives to get something for a party, making you two a team during every game on the PlayStation, encouraging you guys to enroll in the same classes for junior year, and more.

You hadn't seen Mark all summer after the trip in late June, you'd texted a lot though. He'd even called you a couple of times, which always made you scared because no one had ever just called you to talk to you like he did.

No matter how much Ethan pressured you to tell Mark how you felt, you were always too scared. You'd only ever had two boyfriends before, and they were not good guys, so you didn't really know what it felt like when a guy really loved you.

It was two weeks into the school year and you still hadn't seen Ethan or Mark yet. You were lying in your bed with your eyes closed after class when your phone rang, you jumped, grabbing your phone, seeing 'Mark Estapa🤍" at the top of your screen. You tensed for a second, sliding your finger across your screen to answer and hitting the speaker button.

"Hello?"

Mark smiled when he heard your voice, blush dusting the tips of his ears.

"Hey! What's up? Do you have plans for tonight?"

"No, should I? Is there an Alpha Phi party Ethe didn't tell me about?"

You sat up in your bed, rubbing your eyes and flattening your hair.

"No, no party. I wanted to ask if you maybe want to go get dinner or something, maybe we could go walk around target or something."

You blushed at his proposal, you knew it was just a hangout, but dinner with Mark was like, all you ever wanted. You accepted gently, not trying to sound desperate to see him.

"Okay, great. Can I come pick you up in like 20?"

You accepted again, quickly saying goodbye and texting Mark your new address so you could get ready. You'd just moved off campus and into an apartment for your junior year. It was 50° and felt like 45° in Ann Arbor, perfect fall weather, so you made sure to wear warm clothes.

You slipped on your Ugg slippers right when Mark knocked on your door. You opened the door with a big smile, Mark's face adorned by his usual grin.

"Hi Mark, oh my gosh I haven't seen you in forever!"

You were gonna use that as your excuse to hug him. He greeted you sweetly, squeezing you tightly. When you both pulled away from each other you admired his face, his rosy cheeks from the cold weather, how comfy and warm he looked in his big Wolverine Hockey sweatshirt, everything.

You guys exited your apartment building silently, when you got to Mark's car he went up ahead of you and opened the door for you. You looked up at him and smiled sweetly.

"My hero."

He nodded and laughed, making sure you were securely in the car before closing your door, running around the front of the car to get in. You turned on your seat warmer while he buckled up, he looked over at you and smiled again, and you raised your eyebrows at him, silently asking him 'what??' he just laughed and shook his head.

You plugged your phone into the car so you could play music, Mark didn't fight you over it, he never did. He loved watching you lip-sync to the music you loved, even though you didn't think he saw you. He smiled as he glanced over to you while stopped at a red light, the red illuminating your face as you sang silently along with Bad Habit by Steve Lacy. He thought the song choice was funny because he literally did wish you knew he wanted you.

This was the you that he loved, the girl who wasn't constantly stressed over people who didn't deserve even half a second of her attention. He snapped out of his trance on you when the light on your face turned green. He drove to your guys' favorite place to eat fast.

You were quickly texting your mom back when you pulled up to the restaurant. Mark hopped out of the car with haste and got around the car before you could get your seatbelt off, opening your door for you, holding out a hand so you could balance.

Your cheeks warmed as you accepted his hand, letting him help pull you out of his warm car, and into the cold of Ann Arbor. You both ran across the parking lot to get away from the cold, Mark running around you once you'd crossed the street so he could open the door for you. He was the sweetest guy you'd ever met. You guys greeted the staff that knew you two well as the "friends" that come in every week together.

Your favorite waitress brought you to your usual booth, taking your drink orders then taking off. Said waitress was the same woman that always would tell you and Mark that you guys were perfect for each other when one of you was in the bathroom and the other was left at the table. You and Mark had both sat on the same side of the booth always, you guys just liked it better that way, and it was always both of yours' side when you came with other people.

Taylor Swift was playing lowly through the restaurant while you guys pretended to look through the menus, acting like you didn't get the same thing every time.

After you guys ordered, you started talking about summer, and what you guys had done since June 27th, when you'd seen each other last. You told Mark how you spent July with your family and then August with your friends in Miami.

i want you to know, i'm a mirrorball. i'll can change everything, about me to fit in.

"-but you know partying is never that fun with that group of girls because I always am the DD and they all always get absolutely blackout plastered and none of them are good drunks and it just-"

"You know I hate when you do that?"

You halted, staring at him with furrowed eyebrows. You were shocked, did you make Mark upset? You didn't think you'd said anything bad. You couldn't even get a 'what?' in before Mark started again.

"When you let those girls walk all over you. You don't deserve to go out with them just to take care of them while they do whatever they want all night. It just makes me like sad to see you literally hate every time you go out with them. You don't always have to take care of everyone. You can let people do things for you, and let people do things for themselves, okay? You can do something for yourself for once."

you are not like the regulars. the masquerade revelers. drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten.

You were stunned. You'd never had anyone care about you like that before, you'd always felt like you had to let everyone depend on you since you were so little. You'd never had a Mark before. Someone who'd let you be you, someone who wouldn't let you go out of your way and hurt yourself to make sure other people are happy.

You didn't know what to say, you hugged him, though. You hugged him tighter than you ever had. And he held you so gently as if you would break. You didn't even know you were tearing up until your vision clouded over.

"Thank you, Mark. I just- I've been taking care of everyone around me since I can even remember. My little brothers and sister were always my responsibility when I was little and it just stuck and now I feel bad if I don't do anything I can to make the people I love happy. But thank you, um wow yeah thank you, Mark."

You both pulled away, he nodded with a straight face. You quickly wiped under your eyes and turned back to the table, you didn't know what to do now.

"Sorry if I just like, made that awkward, but I just really care about you and I don't like when you're with those girls 'cause they don't make you happy."

I love you. I love you. I love you.

That's what Mark wishes he could say.

hush, when no one is around my dear. you'll find me on my tallest tiptoes, spinnin' in my, highest heels, love. shinin' just for you.

"You didn't, it's not awkward Mark."

You giggled and shook your head at him, asking him how his summer went in turn. He went on about all his plans and it just mesmerized you. The way he talked was everything to you, how excited he got over little things, how enthusiastic he was about almost everything. You loved how bright he was while also being able to understand you and be serious.

You guys got your food and ate while talking about more random things. Mark got up and went to the bathroom right after you both finished, while you sat and waited on him and the check. Mark walked back from the bathroom minutes later and when he got to the booth he held out his hand to help you out of it.

"Mark the check didn't come yet. We can't leave."

He smile got bigger, you could already tell what he was about to say.

"Well I just paid so I think we're fine."

You rolled your eyes at him, lightly pushing him after you accepted his help out of the booth, telling him you’re paying him back somehow. When you got into the car you checked the time, 8:13 p.m. Target closed at 10, so you decided to drive over to it and check it out.

hush, i know they said the end is near. but i'm still on my tallest tiptoes, spinnin' in my highest heels, love. shinin' just for you.

You played more music in the car, and at every red light Mark would watch you sing along silently, and whenever you were driving, you'd glance over at Mark, admiring the slope of his nose and his sharp jawline. He was beautiful, to say the least, but staring at him while Ceyando by Frank Ocean played in the background was breathtaking.

You guys stopped at a red light, and then Mark's eyes met yours. You quickly looked away, staring straight ahead at the road in front of you guys. If the red light wasn't shining down on you guys, Mark would've seen the way you blushed. You were everything to him, everything.

and they called off the circus, burned the disco down. when they sent home the horses, and the rodeo clowns. i'm still on that tightrope. i'm still trying everything, to get you laughin' at me.

When you got to Target, Mark opened your door like always. You guys rush inside to fight the cold weather, giggling like little kids. Before you guys start looking around, Mark goes to the bathroom, claiming how he didn't actually get to go at the restaurant.

While he was away, you ordered Starbucks for the two of you, happy that you were partially repaying him for dinner. You waited outside the bathrooms with two hot chocolates in your hand and a big smile on your face. Mark as always, argues with you when you hand him the drink. You ignore him and grab a cart.

You push the cart through the store, both of your cups taking space in the cupholders on the cart. You both throw in random things you need for your homes, from paper towels to shampoo to Gatorade. You gasp with excitement when you see the books and music section, your favorite part of the whole store. You abandon the cart with Mark, running over to the vinyl.

Now that you had your own apartment, you could finally bring your record player from home and have room with it.

"When was the last time you listened to something on vinyl?"

Mark teased you but admired you also as you scoured the shelves of vinyl, gasping at every Taylor Swift or Harry Styles album.

"Well actually Estapa, my new apartment has enough room for my record player now so I listened to one like two days ago!"

He nodded with an amused look, letting out an 'Oh yeah?' to which to nodded aggressively.

Mark saw the way your movements halted when your eyes landed on one vinyl that was at the very back of the stack. Mark recognized it to be a Taylor Swift album, because you had played it in his car before, but he wasn't exactly sure what it was called.

"Oh my god. This is the Folklore Deluxe album, the red pressing. This is so weird, I left this at home for my little sister to have before school started. I haven't seen this album in Target in like over a year."

Mark nodded along with your words, a big smile on his face as he watched how excited you were.

"Oh my gosh I need to play this for you. Okay, on the way home we're listening to the whole thing okay?"

"Yeah, alright, we'll listen to it."

You squealed, giggling as you slid the vinyl into the cart. Mark pushed the cart behind you as you looked through the books, grabbing two that had been on your 'tbr' list for a while.

Mark let his thoughts wander into delusion as he pushed the cart behind you. He thought about grocery shopping with you like you were married. He shocked himself with that thought, quickly shaking it from his head. He hadn't even told you he liked you yet.

You two went to the self-checkouts, splitting your items up and paying. Mark pushed the cart behind you as you exited Target, while you jogged to the car, the cold air seeping into your jacket. You jumped up and down slightly as Mark took as long as possible to get to the car.

You guys quickly loaded the bags into his trunk, and you insisted on pushing the cart back to the cart corral. When you walked back to the car, a crazy thought appeared in your mind. You thought about being married to Mark and loading your shared groceries into your shared car. Lord, you hadn't even told him you liked him yet.

You got back to the car to see your door open and waiting for you. When you got in, the heater in your seat and pushing through the vents enveloped you. Mark smiled, holding up the aux cord for you. You grinned back, snatching it from him and pulling up Spotify, clicking on folklore (deluxe version).

"Okay so, the album starts with 'the 1', and it's about like thinking about your ex that you thought was your soulmate and wishing they were just a little different so that it could've worked out."

"Oh okay, I think you've played this one before."

You nodded as the song faded in, letting him listen to the song. Mark especially loved when you played Taylor Swift, because you always lip sync the "hardest" to her. 'my tears ricochet' faded out when you pulled up to your apartment.

"Oh my gosh, Mark you have to come in and let me play the rest for you. Please? You're gonna love it I promise. Oh, and we can make those cookies we picked out!"

Mark didn't even have to think for two seconds before agreeing, not that he could ever say no to you. The idea of spending the rest of the night with you sounded like heaven. You had Mark park in a visitor spot and you both got out of the car, grabbing your bags from the back. Mark insisted on carrying 4/5 of your bags, even when you argued with him. You led him up and into your apartment. You both took your shoes off by your door, dropping your bags on the kitchen counter.

and i'm still a believer, but i don't know why. i've never been a natural, all i do is try, try, try.

"Sorry it's a little disorganized, I'm still in the rearranging everything stage."

Mark walked in and immediately loved the vibe of your apartment. It was so warm and it smelled good and just was so you.

"I think it looks great, don't worry."

You blushed at that, feeling all giddy over a boy liking the way you had your apartment decorated. You started to put away your perishable groceries but then noticed Mark standing awkwardly on the other side of your kitchen.

"Oh sorry Mark, please make yourself at home!"

He smiled and nodded, walking around the counter over to you, asking if you needed any help with groceries. You asked him to preheat the oven, and he immediately agreed. You then heard a confused call of your name.

"Your oven is like a fuckin' spaceship. How do you work this?"

You laughed so loud, Mark loved it. You walked over from where you were putting the Halloween-themed cookie dough on a baking sheet and stood between Mark and your oven. You preheat the oven successfully before turning around to make a snarky comment but then realized your proximity. Both of your faces warmed before Mark backed away, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile.

It was a little awkward for a beat before you remembered what you invited him in for.

"Oh my gosh, come over here, look at my record player area! It's my favorite place I have decorated so far."

You grabbed your new vinyl off the counter, sliding on your socks over to where you had your record player set up in your living room. You carefully took the wrap off of your new record, grabbing the first vinyl out and gently placing it on your player. You moved the needle to where track 6 started and turned it on, letting the needle drop onto the vinyl.

"This one is my favorite on folklore, it's about like being a people pleaser but also having someone who you don't have to be like that for."

You avoided looking right at Mark when you said it because you realized that's exactly how you felt about him. He was one of the only people that you didn't have to perform for, the one person who preferred when you didn't. What you didn't know was that Mark was smiling so big when you said what the song was about, thinking of you and himself.

You turned up the volume, walking back over to your kitchen to slide the cookies into the oven when the oven beeped, signaling it was finished preheating. You turned and saw Mark standing at your counter, staring right back at you.

"Hmm, oh! You've never been here before, let me give you the tour."

You turned up the record player once again, so you could hear it throughout your space, and led Mark over to the hallway that led to everything else in your apartment.

"So obviously my kitchen and living room, there's a coat closet, but it's pretty much empty still so whatever."

You showed him the bathroom, another closet, laundry room, and then finally you got to your bedroom.

"Okay this is my bedroom, I'm actually like just finishing up with my decorating in here, sorry if it's a little messy."

Mark thought your room looked spotless and beautiful. Everything just screamed you so he loved it. Your salt lamp dimly illuminated your room from your nightstand, the song dancing through the air of your room. Mark looked all around your room before stopping when he saw your photo wall.

There were dozens of photos, Polaroids and printed pictures, photo booth strips, and other mementos from various occasions taped on the wall.

When you saw Mark halted at your wall, you hoped he didn't realize how much of him there was on it. Every picture of you and Mark in existence was printed out and taped to your wall. The ticket stub from when he took you to The Little Mermaid in May. A cut-out drawing he doodled on your page during class once, he was surprisingly good at drawing hockey jerseys.

Mark noticed how often he came up on your wall, then there was one photo that made his eyes widen a little and his heart jump. It was a Polaroid of you and him at a party last year, your arm around his neck as you both smiled widely. That wasn't even the best part to him, the best part was that on the margin underneath the picture, there was just the date, a dash, and then a heart drawn.

He looked over at you and there was a different look in both of your guys' eyes. Some kind of understanding, but still a little bit of fear that your feelings were unrequited. You walked over to Mark, pointing at the photo he had been staring at.

"That's my favorite picture like, ever. That's why it's in the very middle of all of them."

Mark just stared at you, as you stared at the picture. He was so in love with you, it would probably physically hurt him if he held back telling you any longer.

"I think I'm in love with you."

Your eyes widened, head snapping in his direction. You blushed so deep red, that it even spread to your ears. You were stunned, you literally couldn't move your mouth, Mark had just told you exactly what you think every time you look at him. He was in love with you? You would jump up and down in victory, but your downstairs neighbors might not like that. Mark didn't take your silence well, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck as he blushed madly.

"Well no I know I am but like it's cool-"

You kissed him, you kissed him. You kissed Mark Estapa after he told you he was in love with you. What fucking universe is this? You kissed him as the bridge of seven played through your home. Your hands framed his face as his hands instinctively held your hips. Butterflies were all either of you felt, whole body tingling and excitement as you kissed each other.

When you pulled away, you were both out of breath, you stared at Mark, so incredibly flustered. Mark took in your rattled appearance and his confidence skyrocketed. He had just got the girl, he was on top of the world.

"So, does that mean like, you like me back or?"

You pushed at his chest, covering your warm face with your hands, hiding your embarrassment and big smile.

"Shut your mouth, but yes."

Mark grinned even wider than he already was, wrapping you up in a hug as august started playing. You both stood there for a minute, taking the moment in. You stood until the timer on the oven went off, indicating your cookies had finished. You pulled out of the hug, taking both of Mark's hands and leading him back to your kitchen, not before he could let out a funny comment.

"I really like this album by the way."

You let out an 'oh yeah?', giggling at his stupidity. You couldn't believe you'd finally gotten him. He was yours, and you could definitely tell that he was the 1.

because i'm a mirrorball. i'm a mirrorball, and i'll show you every version of yourself tonight.

[anthonycrowley]

the difference between book azcrow and tv show azcrow is really. and this is in line with that post i reblogged a few days ago that gomens book is about humanism gomens tv is about azcrow. but the real difference is is like. yeah i do think that book azcrow are in love of course but there’s no urgency at All imo. like maybe they fucked once two thousand years ago and will again in another two thousand when the spirit moves them. maybe they’ll get together in five years and go huh why haven’t we done that before. maybe they’ve been casually making out since the arrangement started. don’t care doesn’t matter the story isn’t about that and honestly they seem well adjusted enough for Whatever as far as that’s concerned. whereas there is sooooo much urgency in the show i think if they don’t fuck about it in the next six months crowley’s gonna start writing song lyrics so emo he’s gonna manifest warped tour 2.