#sticks the badger x reader

[randomanimaticse]

Sonic Boom Masterlist

Sonic The Hedgehog

None at the moment.. try asking!

Miles 'Tails' Prower

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Knuckles The Echidna

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Amy Rose

None at the moment.. try asking!

Shadow the Hedgehog

None at the moment.. try asking!

Sticks the Badger

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Dr. 'Eggman' Robotnik

None at the moment.. try asking!

[multi-fandomsfreak]

Hiya, i saw ur requests are open and that you write for sonic series, so i was wondering if you could write sonic boom!shadow x fem!hedgehog reader? You can make up the story, and what happens! But i have to ask if it can be fluff. I read a little to much angst today cant handle more😭

I looove shadow sm, all and any shadow😆

Thanks! Drink,eat , sleep, shower

-Monty 🦔

Boom!Shadow Fluff HC’s With Fem!Hedgehog Reader

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

I don��t know why but as soon as I saw this request was to have Shadow be in a hugging session with reader. Don’t know why but that was the first thought I had when I saw that you wanted fluff (by the way I kind of wrote this to at least be platonic but some views can be considered romantic in a way. You can view it as whatever). Plus that boy does deserve a hug, regardless of which Shadow it is. Also sorry if this is a bit shorter than my regular ones. Anyways, hope you like this. ~Blaze/Dawn

Pronouns: She/Her (Or At Least Fem Intended Since I Only Used She/Her Once)

Warning: ❌

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Shadow + Mentions Of The Other Sonic Crew

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Icon by punkmp4 on Pinterest + Banner by emiljjj (Edited By Me) on Pinterest

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- ‘God today has been overwhelming’ Shadow thought to himself, his face clearly showing annoyance. Honestly he wasn't sure how long he could deal with another presence. The only thing that was currently on his mind and the only reason he even bothered to put up with the others was seeing you. A while ago he found himself becoming fond of you in his own brooding way. Normally he wouldn’t consider himself getting close with anyone especially since he’s known for being a loner but as he manages to spot you more often due to you often hanging out with that stupid hedgehog sonic and his friends he couldn’t help but get drawn towards you. It’s like you had some sort of aura about you that made him drawn to you. So he decided to hang out with you much to your surprise at him wanting to be around you but you weren’t going to complain.

- You’re the only person he actually tolerates out of everyone he knows. To him Sonic is too annoying, Tails is alright in a way but still isn’t too fond of him, Knuckles isn’t that smart, Amy is also alright he just doesn’t hang out with her too much so he doesn’t have that much of a bond with her and he just finds Sticks batshit crazy. So with you it’s like he’s getting some fresh air after being stuck in a room for hours. He actually enjoys being around you, you won’t get him to outright admit it but in a way you can tell he does because he treats you way differently compared to the others which doesn’t go unnoticed by them.

- Some of them actually find it cute (Mostly Amy) and some of them like to tease Shadow about (Most probably either Sonic or Knuckles) but you don’t mind it. You actually find it cute in a way as well. Managing to break his standoffish persona. Undeniably he kind of has a soft spot for. Often he finds himself getting defensive when someone like Sonic teases him for his said soft spot. Like Sonic could be saying stuff like “You really like her don’t you Shadow” which causes Shadow to tell him to shut up.

- Everytime he has a shit day or just wants to decompress he finds himself thinking of you. He could just be in a grumpy mood then he just sighs to himself and thinks to himself ‘I’m going to see [Name]’. It’s like his brain just automatically thinks of going to you as soon as he experiences a single bad emotion. He knows that you won’t judge which admittedly makes him happy inside. Honestly after having others getting on his nerves he rather have someone who knows how to calm him down. Honestly, this dude has so much built in anger it’s unbelievable.

- Eventually, after enough walking he managed to arrive at your place and immediately felt some sort of weight being lifted off of his shoulders. He knocked on the door crossing his arms waiting for you to open the door. He then saw the door crack open and saw the familiar hedgehog he actually likes. “Oh hey Shadow!” You said, happy to see your buddy again “what are you doing here?” You asked before he answered “apologies for interrupting you but is it alright if I stay here for a bit?” He asked to which you happily let him in.

- As soon as you sat down you found him following you before plopping himself head down into your lap “had another one of those days huh?” You asked slightly chuckling before placing a hand on his head “you have no idea. I swear that damn hedgehog is out to purposely ruin my day.” He grumbled as he felt himself softening while having your hands running through his quills “oh come on he’s not that bad you know?” You could hear Shadow slightly snorting to himself before replying “you hang out with him, your used to his idiocy” you chuckled at his answer before continuing to play with his quills, occasionally seeing him nuzzle his head in your lap even letting out some noises indicating that he was enjoying the attention he was getting from you “your weird you know that Shadow?” You joked with him “no I’m not” he retorted back even starting to hug you loosely around your waist “yeah whatever you say” you smiled to yourself hearing Shadow scoffing to himself as the two of you enjoy each other's company. “thanks for being there for me [Name]” he quietly said but you could hear him very well “no problem Shadow”.

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[venusbyline]

Sleep ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 26, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x twin sister!reader

— type: smut, dark, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: creampie

— summary: Jacaerys was determined to make you his wife, forcing his mother to marry him to you, even against her will. Or against your will too.

— word count: 1.3k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 26th day, female!reader, dark!Jacaerys, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, creampie, Targcest (twin brother/twin sister), dubcon somnophilia, rape/non-con, vaginal sex, breast worship, butt worship, breeding kink, degradation, praise kink, corruption kink, loss of virginity, blood licking, squirting, cum eating, cum swallowing, dacryphilia, crying, watersports, doggy style position, minor Jacaerys Velaryon/Baela Targaryen, Referenced Targaryen/Velaryon Incest (cousins), implied/referenced cheating, underage sex, ambiguous/open ending, non-consensual drug use (herbal tea), drugged sex, forced orgasm, forced pregnancy, marriage of convenience mentioned, butt slapping, biting, hair-pulling, manipulation, sexism, possessive behavior, implied breastfeeding kink, implied lactation kink, implied pregnancy kink, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, dark content, sadism, dom!Jacaerys, sub!reader, canon divergence, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads @dearjardim

— crossposting: AO3

— high valyrian words used: Idaña (twin), Hāedar (younger sister), Lēkia (older brother), Muña (mother).

Jacaerys was fed up with his mother's stubborn and boring behavior. Rhaenyra's refusal to break off his betrothal with Baela and refusing to let him marry you, his twin sister, was only making the fucking war even more stressful. As if the death of his little brother Lucerys was not enough, Jace still had to deal with Baela's constant interference against his angry thoughts and the fact that she did not understand why he hated these stupid Dragonseeds so much. It was easy for someone who was children of a Targaryen King Consort and a Velaryon princess to say he was being too arrogant or spoiled.

Either way, Jacaerys did not want a damn betrothed who was barely fit to support him during the outbursts. Even though she was extremely delightful and an excellent warrior, Jacaerys needed more. He needed a caring wife. And he knew you could play the role very well.

His anger towards Rhaenyra and Daemon was growing, to the point where he sometimes wished that his mother would actually recover her rightfully Iron Throne, but only because then he could rule the Seven Kingdoms soon.

He asked and even begged his mother to change the betrothal, explaining that the bond between the two of you had grown since Luke's murder and he needed you. Unfortunately, Rhaenyra remained a woman of her word, refusing to change the agreement.

Perhaps it was really a spoiled and cruel attitude on Jace's part, but he was determined to make you his wife, forcing his mother to marry him to you, even against her will. Or against your will too.

"Idaña, please..." Your whimper sounded too loud for both of your own good and Jacaerys whispered for you to moan lower, his large hand went straight to your mouth, sticking his index, middle and ring finger there to muffle the sounds that followed as he continued to slowly move his hips back and forth.

Each time he took himself out and put it back in, Jacaerys enjoyed the sight of his cock wet with your juices and also the blood of your innocence, as well as the sight of your voluptuous ass shaking when he fucked you a little rougher than before. He was trying his best to be careful with you, taking advantage of your drowsy dubious consent. Of course he did not want to hurt or scare his little twin sister in any way. He just wanted to left you filled with his seed, making your future heir growing in that soft womb.

"Shhh, Hāedar... You do not want to wake up our mommy, do you?" Jace murmured, pressing his bare sweaty chest against your white satin nightgown-covered back. He really wanted to rip that stupid fabric off and fuck his sister until you barely remember your own name. Until you beg for his cock. Until you were practically brainless. "Mother does not want me to marry you. But you want to marry me, do not you want to, my dear?"

Jace's question made you moan incoherent words around his hand, impossible for him to understand anything, so he took his three fingers out of your lips, wet with your spit and stuck them in your head, pulling your dark wavy hair just like his, despite the difference from length. You were like a reflection of him. The hair, the eyes, the nose... You were like a pure and innocent version of Jacaerys, the version he could never be. You were a true pure soul. You were everything he should have been and he was everything you could become.

He fucked you deeper, slapping your buttocks hard and making you scream softly, while he took the opportunity to pull your hair back, leaving your neck exposed to nibble and kiss. "Answer me, little sister. Do you want to marry me? Do you want to carry the future King or Queen of the Iron Throne inside your belly? Do you want me to turn you into a Muña?"

Perhaps it was your still slightly asleep state, perhaps it was how his cock was fucking you too fast and brutally for your virgin cunt to handle, or perhaps it was the special herbs that Jacaerys had put in your drink during dinner... But you just could not say no to him. You did not even want to say no. All that was going through yourself mind was that Jacaerys needed to keep doing what he was doing, even if it hurt so bad.

"Do you want me to breed you, sister? Beautiful little dark-haired babies sucking milk from your breasts while I sit on the Throne?" His question did not get a verbal response, however, Jace understand it as agreement due to the way your walls tightened around his member. "That is, that is my fucking good little girl... So innocent and obedient." Jace growled between moans, taking his hand out of your head and moving it to the softness of your clothed breast, squeezing roughly over the fabric. "You are taking me so well, Idaña. You are going to look so beautiful pregnant with our children. I am going to fuck my seed into you every year, I will never get tired of that warm and tight little cunt..."

You cried out and felt a sequence of slaps on your ass again, noises so loud that the entire castle was probably already hearing you two. "Lēkia... S-stop... I need to pee!" You suddenly screamed groggily when you felt your lower belly start to ache. You hoped Jacaerys would stop what he was doing and release you, but all he did was chuckle mockingly and grip your hips tighter. "PLEASE, JACE! Brother, please... I really need to pee right now!"

Even though you could not see Jacaerys' face because he was fucking you from behind, but you felt his breath in your ear, his teeth nibbling on your earlobe before he purred. "Then do it." He teased hornily. "I am your twin and some minutes older than you. Also, I am the one who will be the future King, so I am ordering you to do it."

Your eyes widened, coming out a little of your sudden trance and drowsy state when Jace continued holding your hip with one arm, but brought the other to your belly, pressing hard on the place where your bladder was. Tears began to fall desperately from your face and you struggled under your twin brother body, the hot liquid wetting the sheets and both of your legs and the Jace's too. "Well... I thought princesses and big girls did not piss on themselves. Now I guess I was wrong, you are a cute bedwetter, my dear. That was so horny."

The mockery turn everything more shameful and you sobbed, just crying when your cunt began to spasm intensely until you came, a clearer liquid splashing out before you fell face down on the pillow completely, your consciousness fading for a while after the orgasm and something else.

You did not know how long you were unconscious. Probably just for five or ten minutes. When your eyes opened with difficulty, you were still breathing heavily, your face pressed into your soft pillow, hearing Jacaerys growl and feeling him pull his cock out of you after his release, spreading your buttocks to enjoy the view of your bruised ass and reddish and sore cunt, full of cum and drops of your blood and wet with your own pee and your sudden squirt.

"Both of us will hope my seed catches as soon as possible. Right, Hāedar?"

You sniffled and nodded, not protesting when Jace pushed his finger into your sensitive hole and brought it to your lips, forcing you to lick up the disgusting mixture as he smirked, stroking your dark hair too. "My dear little sister. My true future betrothed and wife. You will be such a good mother." He placed a kiss on your shoulder, caressing your sore ass and laying down next to you, ignoring your confused and sleepy cries. "Seven Hells, do not be pathetically dramatic. Just go back to sleep, dear sister. Go back to sleep and then we can rule Westeros together very soon, I promise this to you. Nothing will separate us, not even Mother, Daemon or Baela. Not even you."

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[captain-huggy-bear]

The Teacher's Always Right

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Your students badger you about your relationship status and you let slip you're dating a hockey player who plays for the Vancouver Canucks. They don't believe you, you're petty enough to arrange a school trip to Rogers Arena just to prove your point.

Notes: Very self-indulgent of me as someone who teaches teenagers for a living and regularly gets questioned on my relationship status. They really do bully you (affectionately).

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You're in the middle of teaching your high schoolers about the fur trade in colonial Canada, mid-speech, arms spread wide as you gesture to your powerpoint when a teenage voice interrupts you.

"Miss, are you married?" It's David, sat at the back, legs stretched out as far as he can reach them. He's ironically enough wearing a Canucks jersey, specifically Number 43...a very, very familiar number to you. As is the question. In your years of teaching this isn't the first time you've been interrupted to be questioned on your relationship status, in fact it happens multiple times a year. Each set of students eager to know why you're a miss and if you'll be a mrs soon and are going to be leaving them to have a baby. When you were single, the questions were usually why?

"No." You've gotten rather good at deflecting or at least not letting slip the reality of your relationship, usually finding out you're not single is enough for them, but there's something about David's attitude that screams persistant curiosity. It makes you wonder why you bother teaching your subject at all when he's more curious about your love life than History itself

"Do you have boyfriend?"

"Yes, does this have anything to do with British colonisation or the fur trade or....?" You lean back on your desk, board pen landing gently on the surface, knowing that you're not going to be free of this conversation for at least another 2 minutes.

"What's your boyfriend do?" You breathe a deep sigh and look around the room, you don't want to get into who your boyfriend is. It's not like its a well known fact that you're dating the captain of the Vancouver Canucks and you try to keep it that way. Not because you're ashamed but because its your private life, school and home, those are as separate as you can make them. It would be impossible to do that if everyone was talking about your relationship, although you know eventually it'll become more public.

Stacy from one of the desk by the windows chimes in this time, curiosity peaked, dragging her away from her current hobby of staring out the window in boredom, "C'mon, miss, it can't be that bad? What? Is he like unemployed or something?" She says while chewing loudly on a wad of gum.

"Gum in the bin, Stacy." Her chewing stops and she slumps as she stomps her way to your classroom bin, spitting the gum in with a roll of her eyes.

"So? Is he unemployed?" You decide to answer the question, only because Stacy actually did what you said this time. You hated gum in the classroom, mostly because it always ended up on the bottom of your shoes and made them stick to the floor as you walked. You wouldn't mind it so much if they could all just throw it away normally.

"No. He's got a job, a good job." A really good job, a ridiculously good job actually. You didn't talk money with Quinn much, but the reality was that he made an amount in a year that you would never make in a life time as a teacher.

"Sooo???" David interjects, leaning forward now in his seat, clearly not happy enough to just know your boyfriend isn't some unemployed bum.

"He's a hockey player."

"Like beer league?"

"No. Like NHL." You watch your classes faces in what feels like slow motion, the series of disbelieving looks, wide eyes and raised eyebrows that are quickly followed by a chorus of objections and claims that you can't be telling the truth.

"Nah, no way! You're not here, teaching us, and dating a guy who makes millions, nah." It's actually frustrating, it shouldn't be. You've literally had students throw tables at you and yet, the idea that they think you are a liar is what makes you frustrated. Is it really that hard to believe that you enjoy your job and don't want to scrounge off of your pro-athlete boyfriend? Or that hard to believe that you managed to snag a pro-athlete in the first place?

"You don't believe me?"

"Nah, like if you are, he's gotta be in some really bad team in the US." You're already formulating a plan to prove to your students that you're not lying and not dating a shit NHL player. Sure, the plan involves a lot more work for you, but the idea is in your head and you can't help but think that it'll be worth it.

"He's a Canuck." You smirk a little, knowing the mention of the local team would get a response. Most of the kids you teach go to at least one game a year or watch it on TV. Some have even seen you at the games, but you always sit in the stands like a regular fan. Mostly because Quinn can't really talk to you anyway when he's locked into a game. You'd serve as more of a distraction if you sat front and centre every game.

"No, no way!" David stands, slamming his hands on his desk, "You're lying!" Half the class echo his claims that you must be lying and it makes you even more determined to prove them wrong. Do you really need to prove to a bunch of teenagers that you're dating an NHL player? No, do you want to? Absolutely.

"Fine, don't believe me, but i'm not lying. I'm dating a Vancouver Canuck."

It takes a little to get them all back on track with the lesson but you manage it. Although you're just as distracted. The moment the bell goes to signal lunch break and your classroom empties, you're on your phone calling your boyfriend, even though you know he's probably in the middle of practice.

He answers on the second ring, the sound of the rink in the background loud and clear as pucks hit the sideboards and skates scratch up the ice.

"Hey, baby, everything okay?" It's unusual for you to call him in the work day and you can hear the worry in his voice, even if he'll pretend he's not worried at seeing your name pop up when you should be working.

"Hey, I'm fine, don't worry...but...you know how you love me?" You fiddle with a little wooden bear that sits on your desk. Quinn bought you it after finding out your favourite animals were any type of bear, it's left ear is broken off and it's got a little bit of red paint where it fell on a floor one time, but you love it anyway.

"Uh huh?" The worry in his voice gives out to amusement at realising you're after something. On his end Quinn is stood at the bench watching the guys run drills, Tocc giving him a look as if to say 'hurry up'.

"And you know how you want to always make me happy?" He smiles at the faux innocent voice you put on, as if he'd deny you anything.

"What do you need me to do, baby?" There's zero hesitation, typical Quinn really, if you want something you've got it, if you need him to do something he's agreeing before all the terms are laid out. He's lucky you don't abuse that sort of power really, he'd spoil you completely if you let him.

"I need you to help me organise a school trip to see you guys practice and meet you all, so that I can prove to my students that I am actually dating an NHL player because they're calling me a liar and I will not be called a liar by teenagers who gaslight me all the time!" The faux innocent voice gives way to your rapid ramble, annoyance riding your tone as you pace across the front of your classroom.

You're greeted firstly by his loud and genuine laugh, so loud that it makes you pull the phone away from your ear. It takes a solid minute for Quinn to stop laughing, and he can see the looks he's getting from the ice, Brock throws him a questioning eyebrow raise, Petey perks his head up at the sound of his captain actually laughing that hard.

It's the dead silence on your end that makes him stop, "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yes! They're telling me i'm lying and I will not be called a liar!"

"Okay, so let me get this straight." He runs a hand through his hair, before leaning against the side of the bench, "Your students don't believe you're dating a canuck, so you need me to help you organise a school trip-"

"For free!" You interrupt, knowing you won't get permission for a trip that costs the school anything more than a few buses and fuel costs, school funding being what it is.

"For free, to prove that you're dating me?" There are easier ways, Quinn thinks, to prove this. Like, him posting a picture of you together on the internet or him kissing you in front of the arena at a game, but it's kind of cute how much you're affronted by your students calling you a liar. It also sounds way more fun.

"Yup, is that...is that too much to ask? I'm being silly aren't I?" He hears it in your tone, the way you seem to start second guessing yourself, can hear you tapping a fingernail against your desk, probably messing with the little bear figurine he got you all those years ago.

"A little silly, but for you? I think I can pull some strings, honey."

You know Quinn will say yes to most things you ask, but you hadn't actually expected him to agree this time. It had felt too big, too much. Your normal requests were small, something like asking if he could get you a doughnut on his way home or could he put the dishes in the dishwasher.

"You serious?"

"Yeah, i'm serious." It takes a beat before your almost squealing in delight down the phone at him, the realisation that he's actually saying yes hitting and he can't help but laugh even as he pulls the phone away from his ear.

"I love you! Have I told you that today?" Your voice is sweet and happy, brighter than it was before. It makes him want to always say yes to you, the way you light up like a christmas tree.

"Mmm, not since 6am this morning."

"Well, I love you and you are the absolute best boyfriend I've ever had and I will never take you for granted."

He can see Tocc motioning him over, telling him without words that its time for the call to end and get back to being captain. Part of him just wants to keep talking with you, rare as it is to get to do during a working day, but he has responsibilities just like you do.

"I have to go, baby, I have practice...but we'll talk about this later, okay?"

He knows his evening is going to be spent planning out what you want this trip to look like before he goes away and tries to make it happen, but he doesn't mind. Anything to make his baby happy. Even if that is trying to prove a bunch of teenagers wrong.

Between the two of you it takes about 2 months to organise the trip. A lot of that time simply spent getting risk assessments done, approval from your administration sorted and organising parental consent. It also takes you getting the sports teacher on side because it was becoming difficult to find a justification as a History teacher for why you wanted to take kids to meet some hockey players. By the time you've organised it, most of your students have forgotten your claims. You have not forgotten their belief that you are a liar, however.

"I can't believe you managed to get us a trip to Rogers Arena! To meet the Canucks! Best teacher ever!" The hockey boys in your class are especially stoked, many of them playing in junior teams and following the Canucks closely as their team of choice. David is no exception to that rule, arriving to the school bus in so many bits of Vancouver merchandise that you're unsure how he's managing to walk weighed down as he is.

"I told you, my boyfriend plays for them." You remind him, ticking him off the register of kids and ushering him up into the bus.

"Miss, we all know that's not true." He turns to you just as he's about to dispear to find his seat. The scepticism written all over his face.

It makes you shake your head, waiting for the moment the puck drops.

The entire ride to the stadium features your students making fun of you for saying your boyfriend was a canuck, you let it slide simply because you're looking forward to seeing them eat their words. They think its funny right now, but you know you're getting the last and final laugh.

You're met at the entrance by, surprisingly, Tocc, who greets you with a warm hug, "Hey, how you doing?"

"I'm good, thank you for having us, Tocc." You like Tocc, he's a good coach and you like that he cares about how the guys are as people not just how they perform. You also can see how much Quinn appreciates him as coach, so you have a soft spot for the scary looking guy.

"No problem," You can feel the weight of 50 eyes on you, all varying shades of disbelief as they realise you seem a little too familiar when interacting with the Head Coach and its only the beginning. You can't help but smile simply because they're starting to realise that maybe they fucked up. Maybe their doubt was misplaced, maybe you actually were telling the truth all along.

"Are Quinn and the guys on the rink or in the locker room?"

"Rink, easier to fit all the kids, but we've got to get them booted up first." The famililarity with which you refer to Quinn and the guys, does not go past David and Stacy both of whom share a look that screams 'don't tell me that she actually knows them...'.

It takes a bit of time to get all 50 kids in skates, although at least 20 of them bring their own, as do you. You're not much of a skater, but dating Quinn meant you couldn't avoid him buying you a decent pair for family skate and the few times he manages to drag you on the ice each year.

You're about to put your own on when Quinn makes his way over to you clearly having just come off the ice, guards on his skates and hair messy from his helmet. He waves briefly at some of the kids before reaching you, taking your skates in hand without hesitation.

"Y'know I can do it myself, right?"

"When have I ever let you do your own skates? Besides, I thought you wanted the last laugh?" He nods his head in the direction of your students who stand gaping at the Captain of the Vancouver Canucks putting your foot in a skate and putting said skate between his thighs to help him tighten the laces with care. Not something one does for a strange teacher they don't know.

"I'm really enjoying myself already. The whole ride they were giving me all sorts of hell about it, and now I can see their little brains working hard to figure out if I was actually telling the truth or not."

You watch Quinn work, finishing tying off your first skate before reaching for the other, his hands are sure on your calf as he slips your foot into it. "The guys are looking forward to it, think this might be their favourite practice of the year. You might be their favourite WAG now."

"All I had to do was bring a bunch of teenagers to the rink to get them to love me?" Quinn stops mid lace pull, smirk firmly in place as he looks at you from underneath his eyelashes.

"Y'know they loved you already, right? Pretty sure Petey is your number one fan."

"That's because I bribe him with sweets." Specifically his favourite sour candy which makes his eyes water. The more sour the better.

Quinn huffs out a laugh, tying off your laces before patting your foot and setting it back on the ground. His hands reach out to help you to your feet and linger on yours a little longer than is strictly necessary.

"You ready for this?"

"Can't back out now, so I guess I have to be." There's a slight bubbling of nerves under your skin, the sense that your students might not think this is cool and instead think that you're undeserving of your relationship, but you shrug it off. After all, they're kids, their opinion on your relationship is genuinely not important.

"See you on the rink?"

"See you there." You watch him walk away and try to ignore the buzz of chatter you can hear from students, commenting on the fact that Quinn did your skates for you.

You get them registered, orderly and help them file onto the rink, the less sure of the bunch buddied up with someone who had more experience skating to avoid 50 kids bowling each other over on the ice. You did not want to deal with a pile of kids flat on the ice after knocking each other over, the paper work would be ridiculous.

You stand back and just watch. The clear awe on their faces as they step out onto the ice, the large rink impressive any day let alone for kids who had never stepped foot on a rink that size. It makes you smile, knowing you're contributing to their memories, providing something great even if it all started out of petty spite. Even if they don't believe you, you feel good knowing they're getting to enjoy this experience.

You skate nearer to the front, Brock and Petey giving you a bright smile and wave, a variety of nods of recognition from the others. Little things that once again tell your students you know these men better than they expected you to.

"Hey, guys. Welcome to Rogers Arena, it's great to have you here," Quinn starts the introduction, smoothly sliding forward on his skates and gesturing to the line of players as he proceeds to introduce each them by name and position, before finally getting to himself, "And i'm Quinn Hughes, Captain of the team,"

"And Norris trophy winner" You chime in, arms crossed as you watch your boyfriend do what he's best at. He's good with fans especially kids, even if he's terrible with the after game reporters.

He turns to you with a bright grin, "Hi, baby," You can see the twinkle in his eye as he drops the petname, you know he does it on purpose to get the reaction that he does from your students as a wave of muttering and murmuring goes through the little crowd.

"Hi, honey, thanks for having us." You throw it right back, more sickly sweet than you'd usually be, playing up to your little audience who practically gasp.

"Anything for my girl."

"No fucking way!" "What the hell?!" You watch each face drop, mouths open, eyes wide. Watch David as he swears loudly face aghast, almost horrified at the realisation that he might have been making fun of Quinn Hughes' girlfriend the entire time he'd been calling his teacher a liar.

"Language, David!" You tell him off even as you smirk, watching the murmurs die off as Quinn and Boeser talk the kids through skating techniques and how best to shoot the puck, the different techniques and ways to hit the puck with the stick. Half of it makes little sense to you but its nice to watch how the kids get engaged, how Quinn takes over a leadership and teaching role.

You mostly take a step back throughout, watching your students learn from Quinn and the guys, but every now and then Quinn finds you under the pretense of fixing your stance or giving you a tip or piece of advice.

Like now, as his hands reach out, fixing how you hold the hockey stick, foot kicking yours just slightly further apart to adjust your stance.

"So, think they believe you now?" You look over at your students, the joy they're having learning hockey from some of the best, but also at the looks they keep sending your way. You're certain they've learnt their lesson, the teacher is always right, at least when it comes to her own love life.

"I think I am offically the coolest teacher in school, so thanks for that." You reach up and kiss Quinn on the cheek, quick and chaste, nothing inappropriate considering you're both at work and surrounded by kids, but it's enough to make his cheeks flush red.

He rubs the back of his neck with that boyish smile of his and it makes you want to kiss him all over again, "Well, I couldn't have a bunch of teenagers calling my girlfriend a liar."

You're so stuck in the moment with him that you don't notice David and his friends until they're upon you and calling out to Quinn. The picture of respect when talking to who might just be their new favourite NHL star.

"Hey, Mr Hughes?" Conveniently half the kids surrounding you are the ones who claimed you must have been dating some beer league level player or some guy from the Chicago Blackhawks.

"You can call me Quinn, Mr Hughes is my dad. What's up, dude?"

"So when are we going to be calling teach Mrs Hughes?" It's your turn to flush, face warming harshly as Quinn's practically asked when he's proposing to you by a spotty 15 year old.

"David!" You might never be able to call your future child David at this rate, far too familiar with calling the name in admonishment. Definitely no David's in your future. Add that name to the list of names you can't use.

David looks at you with a wide grin, braces on full display. "What? I'm tryin' a help you get that bank!" It's actually mortifying, you thank your lucky stars that Quinn knows you're not actually after his money because if a 15 year old were to ruin your relationship you might actually become a super villain.

"I do not need a 15 year old wingman!"

"Baby, it's alright." Quinn wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side as if that will sooth the embarrassment of having a 15 year old try to help you get a rich husband, "Uh, to answer your question, it won't be too long now, bud."

"So, like 6 months? A year? Next week?"

"Oh my god..." You turn your face into Quinn's shoulder, your groan muffled by his jersey. You're certain you might actually pass away from embarrassment, even if deep down there's a little thrill in your stomach that Quinn basically just said he's going to propose to you sooner rather than later.

"I gotta keep it a secret, sorry, man! Gotta keep Mrs Hughes on her toes." Your toes curl at the way he calls you Mrs Hughes, a small smile on your face hidden by his jersey.

A little back and forth is exchanged before David and his friends decide their bored and skate off towards Boeser who's going over the finer points of 'get to the net' and 'just shoot the puck'.

You mumble into Quinn's shoulder as his hands run up and down your back in soothing strokes, "Are you really ganging up on me with a bunch of teenagers?"

"Hey, I just told you that I want to marry you and you're mad at me?" He's not serious though, grinning as pushes you back to look at him. It's adorable, the pout on your face as you glare up at him for making fun of you. Although, you're always adorable to him, so maybe he's biased,

"Correction, you told a 15 year old that you wanted to marry me."

"Okay, okay, I see the problem." He shakes his head solemnly, hands on your shoulders as he lowers his voice just a touch, "Baby, just so you know I want to marry you."

"Okay."

"Okay?" You watch as he stands, mouth agape at your casual response. You're sure he was expecting you to giggle or squeal, but you're determined to mess with him a little.

"That's...nice to know?" You grin at him even as internally you're screaming because your boyfriend wants to marry you and you definitely want to marry him.

"You're such a fucking nerd."

"You're dating a teacher, that's like my whole thing. I'm a professional nerd."

"Yeah... it's cute. It's why I want to marry you."

"Quinn!" You shove him away with a laugh. Maybe your students won't be embarrassing you anymore, but you think you might have a lifetime of Quinn doing it instead. Somehow that doesn't seem like the worst idea.

[hurthermore]

He deserves someone to dote on him! Alastor who injuries his dominant hand and is unable to properly do basic tasks for a while, you come over and cook for him as well as feed him and he’s so embarrassed!! I mean let’s be honest last person to look after his was his mama. Doesn’t stop you, I mean you’re helping him dress, writing out his ideas for potential scripts for future broadcasts, scolding him for trying to use said arm…you kiss his fingers that stick out from his sling <3 he’s so greedy even after he heals he pretends that he still needs you’re help and you’re more than happy to oblige !

This is so cute >.< for this ask we will imagine that Alastor x Reader from Misconduct are in an AU where Vincent doesn’t exist and they’re romantically involved. Poorly written again because I wrote this at uni lmaooo warning for suggestive content, mention of murder and self harm

He didn’t mean to hurt his hand to this extent when he badgered his knife into the neck of a man who wouldn’t stop flirting with you; he tried so hard not to let his pain showcase when you were near him, even when you would thread your fingers through his, he tried so desperately to not make you aware of his pain.

But you were, fortunately, very perceptive of your lovers tells; and when you held his broken hand, you noticed the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly.

It took a while, but you managed to get him to admit that he had hurt himself; whether he told you how depended on whether you knew about his morally malevolent habits or not.

You reprimanded him; obviously, it made you feel so inadequate that he didn’t feel as though you were a safe space for him to tell you of his pain, but you brushed your feelings aside to tend for the man you loved.

He struggled with everyday tasks you had come to figure out; hiding the pain he endured whilst attempting to complete those tasks. So you decided it was best to temporarily stay at his home, regardless of your own responsibilities; you wished to help and assist the man you planned to marry one day.

And he had agreed, rather quickly to your idea, seeming like a child excited with a new toy they had just been gifted.

You began completing every little task for him, even so far as washing his body and hair for him; you always ignored how he would get just a tad excited below the water whenever your bare hands scrubbed his skin clean.

He always held an arm around you as you cooked and washed his dishes for him, forcing you to always become flushed as he only spoke words of endearment into your ear whilst stroking your waist with his free hand.

Whenever he would try to help you, or give you physical affection through his broken hand, you would again, reprimend him. Scolding him like a child before you would inevitably apologise, stating you only wished for him to get better.

And when you laid in his bed, no matter what the two of you were doing during that time, you would place kisses along his broken hand, telling him of how much you loved him, how much you cared about him; how much he meant to you.

He basked in it, loved everything his broken hand had brought him; how it had brought you even closer to him, basically moving you into his home whilst you played the part of his little housewife.

A wife he would make you.

And as the weeks passed by, and his hand ultimately began to heal; he would, to simply have you always with him, break it. Purposefully.

He won’t tell you that though.

He just wants you near him.

[pushingdaisies1]

Nasty Dog . . . ♡ ↳ (part two of ''kinda hate you - kinda love you")

(✧ ˚.) PAIRING-> James "Logan" Howlett {A.K.A} Wolverine x "X-Man" Reader >_< (✧ ˚.) SUMMARY-> You kept on replaying that moment with Logan in your mind. Something small definitely put you on one hell of a roll. It made you think a lot more about what you two shared. Especially if it was even something to hold on to as much as you did. Antagonizing him over breakfast about how much of a show-off he can get, he complies to help you with your class. Specifically when he overhears you talking about your lesson plans. Hand-to-hand combat and you need another demonstrator? Sign him up big time.

(✧ ˚.) AUTHORS NOTE -> hi party people!! gonna make this part short so I don't fill half of this post with my yapping. like I've repeated over the last two(?) , tysm for all of the love. its funny x-men has reignited my writing hehe haha. i wanna write for logan more nd also do professor x?? james mcavoy my love? anyways , u and logan are so weird I'm loving it so hard. also might open up requests for x-men so I can write for the whole bunch. ESPECIALLY lolo , the honey badger of my eye 100%. Hope you enjoy and comment if you'd like to be on a taglist for my works!! (most likely will be doing a lot of x-men stuff until I run out of ideas.)

(✧ ˚.) CWS (?)-> again this is supposed to take place within the context of X-Men 97/X-Men animated series , second person pov , descriptions of combat/sparring, kinda alluded to you two being fwb?? lowkey more complicated but, YALL DONT FUCK SRRY but definitely some suggestiveness , you and Logan kiss n argue and not so makeup so idrk if that counts for hurt/kinda comfort???..

Like the night before that, you were pacing back and forth around your room. The place you would stay most of the time if you ever even had a day off. On your nearby desk would lay students' reports. Ranging on physical fitness and endurance, health studies, and so on.

Ororo sat crisscrossed on your bed as she watched you. Her expression was grim as she looked down into her tea. She was originally planning to go to bed. Though you came to her with troubles plaguing you. X-Men are like family to one another, so she spared you her time. Your worrying made more sense once you gave her the slightly skimmed-over details. You left bits and pieces out of the story for your own sake.

“So he.. and then you…?” She questioned, voice low and face absent in thought as she cringed in realization. You quickly nodded as you held your hands to your face embarrassed. "I know Ororo! It's really ... really bad." Storm couldn't help but crack a small chuckle seeing how frazzled you were over Wolverine. It looked like there was smoke coming right out of your ears with how huffy and puffy you were. "Wow, breath for me. The only thing you should be passing out onto is your bed, not the floor." She assured as she set her cup aside on your nightstand. She got up to look at you face to face. Gently taking your face in her hands. The most, and I mean the most you told Storm was a very cut-down version of the story. Nothing about the nights you were whisked away into his room. How you two used each other consensually as another body to rip into and hold when nights got long.

It's not like you two had nothing. There was a spark undeniably there. But to you, it felt like his eyes would always be for Jean. It's not like you couldn't see why he was infatuated with the redhead. You've known her long enough to know that she would always stick things through with Scott.

Logan was always a fan of the hunt, you were like a place where he could bury his bones. You were familiar, you never had plans to leave his side.

Besides, for the sake of your affair with Logan, it was best not to complicate things. That was before he decided to throw out some choice words. Words that made your chest tighten and sweat rise through the roof. She rubbed under your eyes with her thumb as she guided you to look back at her. "Whatever you and Logan have going on is truly none of my business. Nor the team's business at all." She explained, hearing her speak was so calming. Her tone was always so smooth almost ethereal. "As your friend and your sister, I can't sway your hand either." From the day she arrived in the mansion, Ororo was like your constant. You relied on your friends sure. But like her and Jeans shared kinship, you had something similar with her. Which is why it hurt even more with your dilemma. "Logan is not a perfect man. I know you are stronger than this. You know what's good for you. The X-Men will always have your interests at heart, yes. But it's you who has to make this call." She hummed as she leaned her forehead against yours. "Sadly the ones we yearn for sometimes, or even will always have their heart set on another. You are better than that. You and him can mess, sure. But one day it will end and he'll go back to pining over our Jean." She spoke sweetly with a sympathetic smile. She was right like always.

She looked at you once more, forehead still against yours. "It is you who has to move on to someone who will put you into perspective."

A comforting embrace from Ororo absorbed you. It felt as if you were embraced by the world. Clinging onto her tight, she stopped the storm weathering inside of you. Gently rubbing your back she'd let the silence ruminate inside of your bedroom for a while. "Take some time dearest, maybe speak to him if you can." She murmured into your hair. "Maybe you two just need some needed distance? Because he's definitely missing out on one extraordinary creature." A small smirk grew onto her features as she separated your hug, you complying of course. "All I know is that you deserve whatever honesty you can squeeze out of that man." She acknowledged with the smile you always related to hope. Ororo was your consciousness, she was pretty much one of the most level-headed of your team. You thanked the fate that brought Ororo into existence. Without her words of real wisdom, you would still be spiraling in your bed like a clown. "Thank your Ororo, truly I do mean it." You spoke with a humble smile as she chuckled softly. "We're family, I'll always guide you by any means necessary." She replied, giving you one final look of affirmation before reaching the door. She opened it gently, letting the air open it wider before her eyes wandered to you one last time. "Sleep well, don't let yourself run mad because of him." She purred, leaving you alone. You stood there with yourself. Sucking in a breath of air you knew what was needed. The haze in your continuous stream of thought cleared. With one more look around at your walls, your eyes turned to your bed. You fell right in under your warm and fuzzy blankets. You were practically knocked out as soon as your head filled the pillow. Tomorrow you should be fine, tomorrow will be a better day. Quickly night turned to day. You were awoken by the sound of the students playing on the nearby basketball court down below. Your shoulders eased some more once you saw the empty hall in front of you. No one to interrupt your morning stroll down to the kitchen, where you knew by now someone had to be in there. You quickly jostled yourself down the stairs as soon as you caught a whiff of food. By just a tiny sniff you knew it was Gambit cooking. Your stomach cheered and roared as you rounded the hallway. Coming into the kitchen, Gambit was already dishing some of his beignets up. His hair was up and swooped as he wore a cropped t-shirt, with a colorful display of artwork on it that you didn't really want to decipher. Surprisingly it was a pretty quiet morning. But then you realized why when looking at the clock. The biggest surprise was that even Gambit was up this early. Scott too, as he was sat down with a newspaper on and his regular shades. Gambit swung around seeing you, fresh beignet in hand. "Cher, good morning to you!" he greeted you with a sing-song tune. He stopped at no time dishing up the last batch. You cracked a sleepy grin as you rubbed one of your eyes. "Am I in heaven? I don't think I've ever seen you whip something up this early." You joked as you found a seat at the table. "Gambit is in a good mood this wonderful day, no?" He purred as he smacked on his final touches. Scott looked up from the paper with an eye roll. Only noticeable with the way his head tilted. "He accidentally charged his alarm clock, woke me and Jean up." He snickered, taking another sip of his mug. The sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon filled the air. If you had no self-restraint, he'd be having to remake that entire batch after five minutes.

"Alarm clock? I thought you said Gambit works on his own time?" You turned to Gambit with a raised brow as he leaned against the island counter. He looked away with a small smirk gracing his lips. "I listened to the missus." He shrugged carelessly as you couldn't help but hold back a laugh. His and Rogue's back and forth always made your mornings lighter. Soon the kitchen filled with everyone else. Jean happily greeted Scott with a kiss on the cheek, sucking your wandering eyes into conversation. Rogue soon followed, coming into the kitchen and stretching like a cat. Gambit was already climbing up her tree, given their whole "deal." Their coy and flirtatious banter always brought a smile to your lips , making you get all idealistic-y.

Jubilee and Storm were one of the last to follow. Jubilee of course decided to sleep in late, what teenagers do. Storm explained her absence due to deep talks with the professor.

She especially looked at you with a kind-eyed smile, peacefully soaking in the team's chatter as she too gathered herself food. Jubilee clung to you the entire breakfast. Not like at your hip, but you were one of the ones she got close to immediately. It made sense and you didn't mind her popping into your meal to ask about how this all was supposed to work. "I thought since I'm an X-Man, I didn't really have to DO school here?" She thought aloud, beignet and soft blueberries halfway in her mouth. You answered her question swiftly, relishing in your thirst diminishing.

"It's different since you are still a kid." You hummed, taking the last bites of your plate. "Besides, the extra training besides just on-the-field stuff could help. Danger room drills aren't the only thing a young X-Man like yourself should be going over."

She sighed while resting her chin on her knuckles. "I know, just feels so bogous!" She scoffed playfully, serving herself a big bite of food. Your heart rate was exhilarated by some once you heard Storm greet Logan a "Good Morning." The two of you haven't spoken much to each other. Outside of short-term missions and war room meetings. You weren't surprised when the both of you so quickly made and lost eye contact. He grumbled in response, you weren't surprised. You could hear his confused murmuring as he rummaged for a cup. You spoke up from where you sat at the table. "On the counter, got bored, and knew you would be hankering for a pick me up." You turned back to face him in your chair. You were even taken surprised that you made the first "move." In response, he flashed you a toothy grin. "Looks like someone kissing ass this morning." He gruffly spoke, making up his own hefty plate.

As usual, the professor stayed off in his study. Everyone at the table talked amongst themselves. You couldn't remember how you and Logan started pestering one another. No shocker Gambit with a shit-eating grin amped up the bragging. One minute it was lesson plans, another it was Logan talking about how he could easily show you up during your lesson. Chest puffed, his arms crossed somewhat. He picked scraps out from in between his teeth using a free claw. It gleamed in the shimmering sunlight escaping into the room as his mouth continued to run. "Come on! I'm always the one saving your ass." He chuckled with grit as he finally was able to get out of a piece of that egg. "The other way around Grandpa." You snickered with your teeth on full display. Jean tried to put a stop to your and Logan's childish spat. If you could even call it that. One remark after another and soon he was agreeing to help you in the dangeroom later on in the day. Just your luck, it was foolish to even think this would have no hiccups. You passed through the day doing regular tasks. When the professor wasn't alert about any new trouble, or the school wasn't in shreds it was pretty peaceful.

You spent your time diligently working over those same tasks you despised when you had your hunger for excitement. The quietness around the school was comforting.

Time swept you away before you could realize it was time for your class. Young mutants swarmed into your room, chipper and excited for what today brought. You never expected to enjoy teaching this much. Quickly as the chatterboxes chattered, you soon quieted down the bunch. Greeting your students, you stood up from behind your desk. Rounding up to the front to address the entire room. Diligently you went over the topic for today's lesson. Today it was time to focus on hand-to-hand sparring. Being a mutant did mean having powers at whoever's disposal. But just in case the situation arose of being unable to use those powers, there was always a "plan b" needed at the ready. Most of the students were either paying attention first row or loosely clueing into what was planned for the hour. You didn't really mind, hearing a teacher talk no matter how vibrant they were would never stop being annoying. In the middle of your rapid explanation, you were interrupted by the door swinging open. No thanks to a lot of the doors in the school being a lot more noisy. In the doorway stood Logan, posture steady. With the amount of flannels he wore you wouldn't be surprised to see them being eighty percent of his closet. "I was needed, so here I am." He announced with a bitter sound as he cleared his throat. His arms fell to the side of him almost like he was showing himself off. You immediately perked up as you forgot one small detail. "I forgot to mention, everyone to the danger room!" You instructed as your hands gestured to the doors. Soon bodies started to move as Logan sauntered up towards you. His hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Y'know, I'm gonna kick your ass demonstration or not." He blabbed with that same stupid smirk on his face. You always wanted to wipe it straight off of his face. You turned to him with a pointed look as you whispered to him a threat. Less of a threat and more of an invitation. "Oh sure, missed you pinning me down. Forgot how your hands felt." You hummed before pushing past him. It was only you two, as by now most of their students were already making their way towards or were already in the danger room. Faintly you could hear the slightesting crackling of a chuckle from him. You were going to wipe the floor with his stupid hair.

Finally, everyone was inside and ready. You made sure to wrap your hands since you and Logan were sparring. Given that it was only for demonstrating purposes. But if you really tried, packing a punch into Logan was a lot harder than expected. Can't forget the metal skeleton that lay behind that stupidly handsome rugged jaw.

You paired students off to see how they worked without any use of their powers or special abilities. As a sort of example to anyone up next. After a small mistake by two of some students, you brushed them aside without any pestering. They tried, but maybe now that teacher example should be coming in handy.

Setting up the room, you sequenced it before rushing downstairs to the room itself. Of course, Logan ran right in behind you. "Now - me and mister Howlett are going to give a demonstration. Please watch as that'll be needed for anyone else I haven't sent in yet." Finally, the command commenced as the room quickly shifted into place. It was the simple danger room. White walls and white flooring are suddenly the only things around you two. Finding your stance you stared Logan down. He, not surprisingly, brought back that same sort of fervor and even more. Fists were up and it was time to fight. It was like two predators trying to dominate the other into becoming their respective prey. Your fighting styles clashed in the best of ways. You were quiet when it came to making the first attack. You knew how to be stealthy on your feet. Especially quick when diverting oncoming attacks from enemies. Logan was very abrasive especially when it came to how he attacked opponents. Run in first and think about the consequences later. Quickly you were able to ambush him. Throwing him for a loop once the bottom of your feet met his backside. It was like landing on solid ground. He groaned as he fell back, but that smirk still lay smeared on his lips.

You knew his weak spots and he was the same. Every single point, the two of you could find without even a poorly timed guess. For only a demonstration you two went at it for a while. His knuckles met your frame and so did yours. It was a dance of dominance, as old as time still stands. You soon did realize how much time your sparring was stretching. You still needed to at least have four or more students go up. By the time you two escaped each other's limbs as you had him pinned to the floor only just moments ago, you looked up to see your students.

Some were either paying attention or again, too absorbed in the conversation other classmates were having. Jubilee stood there a little bit taken aback by how you and Logan went at each other. I mean that was brutal but was the huffing and puffing needed? You two looked as if you were about to do the finishing blow to another. "Alright!" You said with an exhale. "Now use that when going head to head with your partner. Treat them as a peer but also as another fighter. Going against a fellow student doesn't mean you cant test out what you learned." You threw out teacher voice , quickly announcing which kids were next. You and Logan made your way back to the observational area of the danger room. The ascend back up was pretty quiet between the both of you. It was the same when you made your way back up and observed the rest of the class.

Soon enough you dismissed your students. Then there was only two , you and Logan. You stood there looking over the empty dome down below you. Logan soon walked up behind you.

Silence was never you shared kind of vibe. So you were somewhat joyous when he snuck a small kiss from you. Pecking the nearest edge of your lips , you came back at him with an embrace of those same lips.

Hungry and desperate like the usual. Internally you fought with yourself. You and Logan as companions and friends didn’t make things any easier. This sneaking around made you feel dirty. You didn’t want to be second pick.

It was you who stopped the exchange. Logan looked back at you with a blank expression. He couldn’t deny that the consistent dynamic between you two did make him guilty. He respected you tons but Jean would always be something he could never get his hands on. Some bastardoues part of him knew he liked that cat and mouse game. He would always wait for her , you and him were a different story.

“I can’t Logan.” You mumbled as your limb’s disconnected once again for good this time. This time it wasn’t with such passion. “This , us , I can’t do this anymore.”

His blank expression stayed as he almost barked out. “What do you mean? Yah never really said anything before, this makes no sense.” He rasped as his throat cleared a little.

The way his hazel eyes looked back at yours was a sight to see.

“I don’t like this charade. I like you but.. this thrill is gone.” You sucked in a breath as you stood apart now. “I mean I don’t just like you. What I feel for you is like nothing I’ve felt for another man. But here you are , waiting like a frail dog for Jean to finally drop Scott.”

He scoffed almost in your face. A part of him knew his yearning for Jean was pathetic. That he didn’t have a chance ever with her. Almost like she subconsciously infected his thoughts with only her. He knew though that it was just him being a fool , for you and for a woman that would never truly reciprocate his affections.

“You should have just said that , bub. I didn’t mean to waste your time parading around like a joke.” He shook his head , hands going deep into his pockets just like how he arrived. He slowly started to walk away. Bordering on leaving , finally you were honest.

“I love you Logan! There I said it!” You shouted , hiccuping like an idiot as you held your chest. That same flustered sensation spread throughout your lungs. “I’ve been in love with you ever since the night we made this stupid thing official. Ever since I felt your lips on mine.” You gritted out , fate was twisting your hand.

“But I respect myself too much to be so blind. I respect you too much to let us do this back and forth. I want something real with you. I want your words of praise to mean something. I don’t want these lies , I want you to love me. Because I do , and this whole poor man’s game of checkers deal isn’t what I want.” All of the hot air was gushing out of you as you went on and on about how you were internally struggling.

He looked back at you for a good minute. Burning silence was in the air. Before he spoke the word that stabbed you right in the heart.

“It’ll pass.” Then soon after he left you alone. In a puddle of your own feelings. You crumbled to the floor like a child. You held yourself up as you wiped your eyes of any free falling tears. You hated that someone so flip floppy with your feelings made you like this.

The heart of a lover was now eaten in two. Now it was your turn to piece yourself back together. With gritted teeth you got up a while later and collected yourself.

You would always be his fool. That was the worst thing about your desire for the Wolverines affection. Just the corner of your heart set for him was now bruised and battered.

ꔫ✉ reblogs/interaction is appreciated <3 (im so sorry if the ending feels rushed , i was in the mood for Logan angst 😔)

TAGLIST:

@pussy-f41ry @weallhaveadestiny @malfoys-demigod @dojacatswink @keenchaosdonut @emilyprentiss06 @honda-odyssey-fucks-hard @sl4sh3r

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Invisible: Hermione x Reader {Blurb}

WolfStar!Slytherin!werewolf!Reader x Hermione

Masterlist

Summary: Reader is a bit of a punk like Sirius, with Remus's insecurities. She doesn't believe she deserves a girl like Hermione. No real plot just Angst straight into fluff

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, reader is a bit of a mess, insults, Hermione hit the reader a few times (please reach out if I missed something}

Wc- 2199

{Y/N} Lupin had never been invisible. Even on days you tried to be, the whispers and eyes still followed you through the halls. See, you were a bit too much like your father, Sirius. You styled like him. Every weekend, his old leather jacket, hair dyed a deep jet black, nails to match. Minnie would say you had the attitude, more in for a thrill then the consequence. Snape would say your grades were like his as well, just enough to pass and just engaged enough to not be called out. Not that you didn't relish in the attention and laughs you got when a teacher tried to reprimand you, and a very Sirius-like comment or two later, the classroom was full of snickering juveniles and you had one more detention on your record. A record, your father, for the life of him, couldn't tell you what it was for. He got an amazing job as an Auror straight out of school despite it all. If that wouldn't usually keep people a good distance away from you, you had the mind of your dad. Methodical and exact, Remus gifted you a weapon no one could quite match. Well.. until you met her.

Hermione Granger.

You see, nothing good could come of a troublemaker, unless they were a Gryffindor. If your reputation wasn't enough, your rule of kiss and tell would be. You were quite popular with the girls and guys of your year. You knew what they wanted and you entertained it. You understood who you were, a Slytherin, a delinquent, someone so bad yet irresistible. No one stayed later than a week or two, you never blamed them. When they got to know you, when they knew you weren't some fantasy written heart throb, their interest was lost. 

You liked to pretend it didn't hurt. It was good fun now and again, but every time someone stopped coming around you were reminded just what it was. Just the perfect amount of hurt and vulnerability for the next one when they came round. Your coping mechanism was the same thing hurting you, and you became cruel about it. 

You spent most of your days with Theodore Nott, a boy with much the same reputation. Complaining to each other just to fill the silence. If your parents knew you associated with the boy, there would be a riot. A Death Eater’s son, someone you trusted more with the secrets of your heart than your own father.

“So Snape says I have to stay in this Hogsmeade trip to study. Roped some poor third year into helping me.” You groaned and Theodore snickered at this. “Has the toad even seen your grades?”

“Bloody doubt it.” You huffed and took a drag of your cigarette. “Just hope it's not some brat, you know? Odd I have to study with someone younger.” You mumbled and handed the stick over to Nott, but it was intercepted by a pale delicate hand. 

Some girl, maybe only 14 years old, snatched the bud from your hand and dropped it on the cobbled floor. Stepping on it with a huff. She turned to you with a vicious smile. “How very kind of you for being early. Names Granger. Hermione Granger.” She held her hand out and you looked her up and down in annoyance. 

“Don't tell me you're the person who is supposed to assist me.” You scoffed and she smiled brightly. Clearly there was some hidden malice there. You were shocked a Gryffindor of all houses had chosen to throw away her weekend to 'help’ you. 

You huffed and took her hand, shaking it firm before she walked past you. You apologized to Theodore and began to follow her. 

That's how the unlikely dynamic began. That day you did everything in your power to get under her skin, and she yours. You would flirt with her, make crude jokes, ignore the work at any cost. She would badger you with questions you were sure the little lion didn't even know herself.

Your goal was to get her to leave you alone. But she refused.

Every time you were forced to detention study, there she was. It was like torture. You wanted to curse Snape’s very existence, but also thank him on your hands and knees for the opportunity. In normal circumstances, you would never have been able to even talk to Granger. She was so wrapped up in Harry -the chosen one- Potter and Ron -just stop whining- Weasley, you didn't even think about her much. 

That was your downfall, of course. You don't think of yourself as someone to fall, especially for an underclassman, but Merlin she was magnetic. Just enough sass and spunk, a bit of a smart ass but it left you wanting more. You tested the water a few times, but when Summer came around and you were sent home to your dads, you didn't send a letter, neither did she.

You and Hermione’s relationship was purely for studying. You knew there were people in your life that were made for certain times, and Hermione was made for quiet library rendezvous. For whispered flirts and cheeky comments between paragraphs. For daunting questions and electric praise. You just wished you could spend all year between those book pages, knee to knee, pretending nothing outside the library mattered. That you both weren’t helplessly over your heads.

That summer was hell, it felt like you were going through withdrawals. It's likely what it was, considering you wouldn't dream of bringing a smoke into your home. Sirius had a nose for that sort of thing. Though it seemed in your current state all you could think of was the fluffy haired girl. Even when you met some muggles to party with over the summer, even when you met up with some of your wix friends, you had fun but kept thinking about her beautiful eyes. It didn't help that you spent almost every weekend and full moon at the Potter’s, and your aunt Lily behaved so much like Hermione it terrified you. Especially since you were no James Potter.

It was pathetic, you decided. When the next school year came around, you did everything in your power to avoid her. Even getting good grades. Then, like some sick twisted joke, the Yule ball came. Everyone was pairing up and you didn't have the heart to stomach being around Hermione. You knew she wasn't someone to gloat or ramble on about the more feminine things in life, but even if it was just a passing comment you knew you wouldn't be able to take it. Knowing who was going to be whisking her off her feet all night, staring into her playful eyes, getting to see the caged bird fly, when you refused to beg for the key. You knew you weren't worth such a luxury. Hermione Granger was made for people like Krum, a famous Quidditch star, or a boy like Harry Potter, the boy who lived. Even Ron Weasley, a pureblood with a huge family with no real baggage. One that would allow her wings to spread and give her the freedom in her life. 

You caught yourself, thinking with such longing for her was vexing. You never found yourself thinking about forever. Not with anyone, until you met her. What good could you do for her? All you could truly offer was your father’s family’s blood money, your horrid reputation, and your werewolf blood. You knew how the world saw you, considering your father just quit last year because he was one.

When the night came, you and Theodore decided to go together. Most of the night was spent dancing with people who came alone, or each other, even drinking spiked juice when the weird sisters started up. Your eyes locked with Hermione’s, on complete accident. Your breath hitched when you saw her blissful smile turn to a look of hurt and disconnection. Your face fell, whatever joke Nott was on about with the girls you were with went silent on your ears. 

“Hey, man, I need some air.” You muttered to him, still holding Hermione’s eyes. Nott waved you off and you finally broke eye contact and hurried out of the hall.

You grabbed your suit’s coat on the way out. You were wearing a muggle suit, just a white button up, a green vest, black tie, and of course the black coat. You rushed to fix the coat around your sides as you began to turn down the hall. Getting as far away from them as possible.

“Don't you dare!” You heard a shout from behind you. You turned sharply on your heel at the familiar voice. You had never heard it so painful. You locked eyes with Hermione and she stalked toward you. You took a sharp breath and got ready for the first conversation you would have with her from the entire year. “What is your problem!?” She yelled at you.

“Hm? What's wrong, otter?” You played coy and pushed your hair back. You gave her your best smile, but from the look in her eyes you could tell it wasn't working. She scoffed at you and threw her gloves at your chest.

“You,,, You selfish git! I knew I should have listened to everyone! You're nothing but a scoundrel!” She shouted at you, in between shoves to your chest that got weaker as tears filled her eyes. You were stunned, jaw slack and trying to figure out just what to say in this moment.

You eventually grabbed her wrists and cooed at her to take a breath. It broke your heart to see her like this. “Come on now, you know I hate seeing pretty girls cry.” You mused and she huffed. “Don't call me that.”

“What? Otter or Pretty girl?” You asked and she huffed. 

“Both! You don't get to after what you've done!” Her shouts filled the empty hall. You grimaced and sighed. 

“Listen-”

“No! You listen to me!” She shouted over you and you quickly nodded. “I have spent my time at Hogwarts thinking I was invisible. I did my best, I got top grades, and the second people began to notice they acted like I was some kind of disease! Like I was just some arrogant cocky Muggle born who didn't deserve to be here.”

“You do-”

“It’s my turn Lupin!” She cut you off again and you nodded, putting her gloves in your pocket and leaning forward to try and dry her eyes. She leaned into your hands and it calmed her instantly. “I felt so out of place. I felt like I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then I met you,” She whispered and stepped forward. Her arms wrapped around your middle and she hid her face in your suit. “When I talked, you listened. When I asked you answered. You sought me out.. You made me feel like you wanted me around. Like I was special.”

You looked down at her in surprise.

“You were the first person to show me what that felt like. Everyone warned me that you were just a cruel flirt. And I guess they were right. I don't know what I thought, I see the girls you've had before, All pretty and done up, so bold and confident. I didn't even get the luxury to say I lost you like they have. Because I never had you. You never wanted me. You're cruel, {Y/N} Lupin.” She sniffled.

Your eyes were wide and you quickly wrapped your arms around her. Pulling her close into your chest you allowed yourself to press your nose to her hair. You let her cry in frustration in your arms. Not stopping her when she would occasionally hit your side with her closed fist. 

“Say something.” She begged pathetically, sniffling into your chest.

“... I have been torturing myself for months, thinking I wasn't worth your time, Hermione.” You admitted, voice dripping in shame. She scoffed and you pulled some of her hair behind her ear.

“Rubbish.”

“It's true.” You cooed in a playful tone. Pressing your chin to her head. “I was so wrapped up in the idea that you didn't want me back, Otter.”

Her sniffles slowly died out, she pulled back and looked you in the eye. You grabbed her cheeks again and leaned in closer. Your lips were a few inches from each other. You could feel her breath brush your lips. “You wanted me?”

“I want you.” You corrected and leaned in closer. She closed her eyes and her breath hitched. You stared at her, admiring her in the moonlight. You usually hated the moon and what it did to your family, but right now, you couldn't think of a better color for her. Your thumb traced her cupid’s bow and she huffed. “I am still mad at you, Lupin. So I’ll give you a choice.” She whined up at you and you smirked.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

“Kiss me or walk me back.”

You laughed and moved closer, your eyes lidding. “That’s a big gamble you're making there.” You breathe and she only smirks. “I like my odds.”

[azsazz]

Penance

Hockey Player!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel can't keep his hands to himself. A modern hockey AU.

Warnings: Fighting

Word Count: 970 (lol i wish it was way longer)

Notes: Welcome to the Hockey AU 😏

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You’ll never understand how your boyfriend gets into so many fights, but here you are again, watching him pummel another player into the ice.

The crowd screams wildly around you so loudly it’s nearly deafening. There’s a chill to the air only the ice emits, the rest of the atmosphere is filled with the heat of bodies, stench of beer and stadium popcorn, and a little bit like body odor. The mostly male fans around you clutch their drinks in their hands as they throw their arms up, egging on the brawl in the rink. You’re sure if you were sitting closer, you might be able to smell the blood splattering the pristine, white ice.

“Come on, Azriel,” you mutter, wringing your fingers together. It’s said a little in disappointment and a lot in encouragement. It’s tough to watch; a player on the Springview Wolves had checked him into the glass. It hadn’t been a nice check either, all but shoving Azriel’s face into the boards. His eyes had gone dark in a millisecond, spinning on his skate and chucking his stick to the ground, his gloves following.

The player had already turned away—Warrick, number 22, the back of his jersey reads—when Az had spun around to give him a taste of his own medicine, and the hit looked dirty on your boyfriend's side because of it, hitting a player who seemed unassuming. Tamlin, number 22’s name is, you know this because Azriel and a few of his teammates had been complaining about the blond haired player all week, saying how the coach only puts him in to start fights, the rest of the time he’s usually a duster, collecting cobwebs on the bench.

Gods, you hope Azriel doesn’t lose any teeth this time.

The pair seem to mostly be wrestling right now, trying to keep their balance as their skates slide against the slick ice and the referees try to tear them apart. But once players start tussling, there’s no breaking them up until one of them hits the ice.

The benches of both teams are going crazy, shouting and hitting their sticks against the partitions. You think you saw the team captain of the Velaris Bats, Rhysand, trying to jump onto the ice to join, but the coach had held him back by the scruff of his uniform.

Cassian had already been on the ice, a winger like Azriel. The pair were nearly untouchable on the ice. It’s as if they had twin telepathy, always scoring points off of one another. He shucked his own gloves off and started a fight with another player for the hell of it, living up to his nickname ‘bloodshed.’ It looks like he’s taking on one of the Vanserra brothers, the younger, Lucien. 

You don’t know what the hell their mother ate when she was pregnant with them, three of her seven sons in the NHL. Eris, the eldest, plays on the Auburn Foxes, while her second born, Pyrolas, has been with the Badgers. That is always a team you dread watching the Bats play. With the amount of fights Pyrolas starts and finishes, it’s a surprise the hot-headed player is still welcome on any team.

Azriel knocks one of Tamlin’s legs out from under him but his competitor doesn’t go down yet, keeping himself propped up on a knee. They’re punching wildly, hitting more helmets than skin, but crimson paints the ice from split knuckles.

You chew on your lip, praying that it ends soon. It’s gruesome, and now that Cassian has joined in, grinning feral with bloody teeth, other players have joined the fray. The referees are useless, and they can only watch the onslaught of Bats players fist-fighting with the Wolves.

The coaches are screaming their heads off from the benches, but there’s too much testosterone in the air for any of the players to hear, let alone take their threats seriously. You know Cassian’s going to be punished in practice for starting a team-wide brawl, and you hope Azriel won’t be added to that punishment.

Tamlin gets in a good hit to the face, cutting the bridge of Azriel’s nose on his helmet. You sigh sadly. You love his nose, all straight and perfect. Something low in your stomach twists, thinking about a scar cutting across the bridge of it. 

Azriel retaliates not with words, but his fists. He tugs the back of Tamlin’s lavender jersey over his head and pummels him, hands moving so fast the blinded player can’t keep up. His fingers scrabble for purchase, clawing into Azriel’s black jersey, but it doesn’t seem to make the man falter at all. 

Finally, Tamlin takes the fall, sliding the rest of the way to the ice. Azriel has his hand pressed to Warrick’s back, keeping him pressed to the ice, his left hand cocked, ready to deliver another blow should he need to. 

A referee skates in, pulling your boyfriend away from the felled player. He ushers Azriel to the penalty box while someone else collects his stick and gloves. Miraculously, his helmet sits on his head, and he’s handed a towel to wipe the blood from his face and knuckles, and Azriel looks beyond pissed off.

Cassian’s ejected from the game, but it doesn’t look much like he cares, receiving pats on the back and friendly shoves from his teammates. He thrives on the bloodshed, Mother help whoever locks him down. They’ll be dealing with eternally busted knuckles and missing teeth. 

The few minutes Azriel has to spend in the sin-bin are long, but at least you can take a moment to calm your racing heart, knowing he can’t start a fight while he’s in time-out for his actions.

The only thing you have to worry about is the remaining period after he gets out of it.

[jollyhunter]

24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 12.

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: None! SFW. Just pure fluff! (English is not my native language) If you squint your eyes, it contains brief reference to Dec.9 (Whip Stroke)

Summary: Just Dean taking care of his clingy morning honey-badger. <3

Words: 800

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Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! And let me know whether you enjoy it so far! <3 A/N: After we had Dean's deadbeat mode yesterday, I felt like it's readers turn for sleepy-grouchy-mode and getting pampered. Maybe mornings aren't that bad after all

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12th Dec. - My entire world

“Rise and shine.”

Nope you think to yourself and roll over to the side.

“Up - come on, sunshine.”

You grumble something and pull the blanket over your head.

Dean sighs and leans down to pull the blanket back again. You protest by whining terribly and tugging at it, trying to disappear under it. Dean can’t help but chuckle at your futile attempt to bury yourself in the heap of blankets and pillows. He sticks his head in between you and the blanket he’s now holding at bay with his right hand. He nuzzles his face into your curled up form, “Come on sunshine” he mutters in between your grouchy sounds, “You gotta get up.”

“I don’t wanna… leave meee,” you whine, and the words come out almost like a warning.

Dean raises his eyebrows at your disgruntled tone but otherwise stays unfazed. He sighs again, “Okay, that’s it.” He declares with a rumbling voice.

He slides his left arm under your waist and grabs one of your hands to pry it away from the strangled blanket in your tight grip. You squirm and protest and snap at him with threatening words. He rolls his eyes in silence and proceeds to wrap one of your free arms around his neck while he carefully pulls you closer. “Hold on,” he mutters against your struggling form, the words almost drowned out by a hail of curses.

He grunts when your knee connects with his stomach. His grip around your waist briefly tightens to keep you from wiggling out of his arms, “Jesus, will ya stop fighting me like a demon?”

Before you know it, he lifts you off the bed and you instinctively hold onto his neck for dear life. “You done cursin' me out?”

You mutter a tiny ‘yes’.

“Good.”

He moves his other arm under your bum to push you further up into his chest while he holds you close with a strong hand on your lower back. You cling to him with your arms wrapped tightly around his neck and your legs locked behind his back.

“Damn little koala.” He mutters gruffly, but his tone has no bite. With a little shove, he tugs your head under his chin where you immediately bury your face to escape the bright light. You feel the rumble of his chest when he chuckles lightly, amused by the way you curl up on his arm like some oversized puppy. Without you noticing, he carefully pulls his phone out to snap a picture of you. One purposely stupid and unflattering one to tease you with later, and one cute one, just for himself.

Meanwhile you are caught in your own peaceful world. Your nose nuzzles against his skin, sniffing the scent of his natural musk. A low hum stirs inside you as you’re taking in the familiar scent like it’s the best fragrance in the whole world. The smell of your own safe haven. Only meant for you.

He starts to make his way to the kitchen, all the while carrying your clinging form like a big koala. He bounces you up and down slightly, to keep you from dozing off again. But you do nonetheless, leaving a little drool on his shirt.

Dean glances down at you, his eyes going soft at your half-asleep face, not minding the stain at all. To him you always look so peaceful like this. So beautiful. And to be honest, even though you’d always act like a grumpy honey-badger in the morning, he secretly loves it when you are clingy like this. It’s one of the rare moments where he for once gets to pamper you. To hold you close and save from everything evil. Even if he’d never admit any of this out loud.

Just then you snuggle into him and his heart skips a beat. To him it feels like he's holding his entire world in his arms. And he doesn't ever want to let you go again. He subtly tightens his wrapped arms around you, making sure your legs don't slip off his hips.

While he gets you two into the kitchen, he shakes you awake again, earning himself a disgruntled groan of yours.

He huffs and rolls his eyes with a teasing smile. “If you weren’t this cute I’d spank your ass for that tantrum.” He pauses and his eyebrows pull together in mock-annoyed amusement, “No wait, you might actually like that.”

You grumble something along the line of ‘screw you’ into the crook of his neck which makes him crack a cheeky smile.

“You want coffee?” He tilts his head down next to you, trying to coax you out of the crook of his neck. You briefly shake your head with a mumbled ‘no’. Dean’s smirk widens and he places a gentle kiss on your head. “Choccy milk it is then.”

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke 10th Dec. - Barbie World 11th Dec. - Temptation

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Tags:

@ariasong11 @deansjacket @literallylexa @lmpala1967 @foxyjwls007 @impala67rollingthroughtown

[kaciebello]

Pigeon ball invitation

Masterlist Badger express ★ Blaise Zabini x Hufflepuff! reader (fem) Summary: Teaching Hufflepuff how to dance was not on Blasies to-do list  Warnings: no use of y/n,  Authors note: Haiya! This is a sequel series to the whole delivery one. This one is gonna focus on the boys separately! hope you enjoy it! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) word count: 1.1k Song: Box - NCT Dream

Blaise comes from a rich family. Yes, he knows their wealth comes from his mother's multiple husbands. But he was not going to spoil her fun. What was spoiling his however was attending all these balls and events.  And one thing he despised even more was dancing. That's why he was frustrated as we watched the Hufflepuff girl glide on the floor. His head hung low as he watched her trip over her own feet.

Why he even agreed to teach her is beyond him. Maybe she batted her eyelashes at him or promised him a free delivery service. He can't remember.

“How are you this bad? I've seen you balance on a flying broom.” He says rubbing his temples. The girl stops and looks at him with a pout. 

“That's easier.” She argues back.

“ How is balancing on a moving stick easier than moving around a solid ground.” She shrugs unable to answer him. 

Right now, she was contemplating her choice of a teacher. She could have asked any of the boys really, she just wasn't sure anyone could teach her ballroom dancing but Blaise.

“Okay, one more time. And please, try to remember the steps.” He says and waves his wand so that the music plays. The girl just sings and makes her to the dummy that has been her dancing partner for the past 30 minutes.

The first few steps are now engraved in her memory and she has no problem dancing that part. It's the twist that comes after, somehow she always manages to twist her feet together. Just as she did now, in panic she even managed to trip the dummy, making it fall. When Blaise heard the thud he did not even need to turn around.

The girl looks at him with an awkward smile. He wants to say something and express his frustration, but she cuts him off.

“Maybe if I was dancing with a human!” She hurls out before thinking. That stops him in his tracks, she's not wrong. Maybe if he has her dancing with someone she will be less likely to trip them and make them face the floor. Yes, it was like 99% she would, but not 100.

“Nobody is willing to risk their feet-”

“You could.”

“EH?” He stops in his tracks. Once again, she is right. It's starting to get on his nerves. He sighs and makes his way to her.

“Fine. But only once.” He says and the girl nods. He grabs one hand to his and places the other one on her waist. She smiles up at him, making it obvious she finally got what she wanted. Blaise just huffs.

“Don't look at your feet too much.” She looks up at him to argue but just nods when she sees his serious face. With a simple wave of his wrist, the music starts to play and they start to dance. As always the first few steps are done correctly and with no problem. 

He could see the girl was more nervous with every second they got closer to the twist. They got into positions and he listed his arms so she could twirl around. Her skirt flowed a bit. At the last second her feet tangled a bit, but Blaise was prepared. Not wanting to embrace her, and frankly not wanting to dance anymore he quickly stabled her by her waist and continued to dance. Giving her a mere second to comprehend what was happening before she had to follow his lead.

When he looked down he could see her smiling seemingly proud of herself. That prompted a smile on his face too. They continued dancing and when the song was nearing the end, he knew what he had to do.

on the last note, he stopped in his tracks and pulled her closer to her body. She did not even have time to react before he dipped her. Wide eyes met his leisurely smile.

“This was not in the original dance.” She says holding on to him for her dear life. She may be a witch but she is not immune to bruises. He just shrugs. Their faces were so close he could feel her talking before he heard it.

“I guess not.” With that, he straightens them up, but not letting her go just yet.  She just looks at him as he swings them in this makeshift hug.

“That was hard.” She whispers just enough for him to hear. He lets out a laugh that rings throughout the whole ballroom.

“Wait till you have to do in a dress and heels.” He says and takes a few steps away from her. She lets out a whine at his words. He once again laughs. Holding his hand out for her to take. He was well aware he said only once, but he hoped she did not register that and he could impress her more. She takes it, getting into positions again.

A coo is heard throughout the ballroom making them stop in their tracks. Suddenly from one of the open windows,  a dove comes down with a little paper wrapped around his leg.

“A pigeon?” he asks and the girl gives him a dirty look, before reaching into her pocket and giving the dove a treat while taking the note.

“A dove, I use them when someone can't reach me. Or when I need to deliver outside of school.” She explains making him look at her weirdly.

“We have owls?” He says and she just mumbles about it not being her style. An idea popped up in his head. He runs to his bag and quickly scribbles something on a piece of paper. He runs back and hands it to the girl. She looks at him confused and she just flashes his smile.

“I do have a free delivery, no?” he asks and she just sighs and nods taking the note from him. She goes to put it in her pocket but he stops her.

“I need it to reach my mom,” he says and her eyes just widen. Before she can ask he shooks his head and answers her.

“You have about the same foot size, she might have some shoes that would feel nice while dancing.” He says and her eyes widen again.

“How do you know this stuff?” She asks but ties the note to the dove before letting it fly away.

“God forbid man express an ounce of girlish whimsy.” He says rolling his eyes. Before extending his hand to her for another dance. She hesitates but takes it nonetheless.

“With no dipping?”

“With all the dipping honey.”

Taglist: @daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @iwishigotswallowed , @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @bunnyhopsstuff , @deluluassapocalypse

[itslynzbitxh]

purple || sal fisher x gender neutral reader

fluff

1.1k words

I unlock the door with shaky hands before stepping into our shared apartment.

"Are you sure?" I say, turning to Sal as I kick my shoes off at the door. He nods and unbuckles his prosthetic, setting it down on the coffee table.

"You don't have to, you know," I mumble as I head to the bathroom with the paper bag.

"I know," he says matter-of-factly, trailing behind me. I roll my eyes as I set the bag on the sink before kneeling down to rummage through the cabinets for my supplies. "But I wanna match," he grins lopsidedly into the mirror, running his fingers through his pigtails.

I chuckle softly and stand up with two hair dye bowls in hand. Sal wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my shoulder, watching me. I smile softly, leaning into his touch.

"Why do we need two?" he asks curiously.

"Well, you got a lotta hair, babe. The dye's not gonna all fit in one bowl," I explain as I reach into the paper bag and pull out two bottles of hair color: Ppl Eater and Front Row from Good Dye Young.

I look up into the mirror, taking in both of our reflections. My hair was a freshly-dyed vibrant red-violet. It had been blue for months until I decided to dye it purple on a whim yesterday. Sal came home from Larry's that night and pouted, complaining that we didn't match anymore. This morning, he'd asked me if I would help him dye it purple. I hesitated at first as he'd only ever had blue in the time I'd known him, but he badgered me until I agreed.

I run my fingers through his blue hair one last time.

"I'm gonna miss it. Larry's not even gonna recognize you," I chuckle. Sal grins and tightens his grip around me.

"Larry can kiss my ass for all I care. I wanna match with my beautiful partner." He presses a kiss to my neck, eliciting a soft giggle from me. "Can't have you looking better than me, can we?" he teases.

"Watch yourself there, hotshot," I say with a smirk, rolling my eyes. Sal laughs, the sound reverberating into my back.

I start to squeeze the color into the bowls and mix the two colors together, trying to match the red-violet shade of my own hair. After a few minutes, I've gotten as close as I think I can get. I look up at Sal.

"Whatcha think?" I hold the brush up, letting a glob of hair dye fall back into the bowl. It makes a loud plop, splattering several droplets on the white sink. I grimace.

"I think we're not getting our deposit back," Sal quips. I stick my tongue out at him.

"That was gone the first time I dyed my hair in this apartment," I reply. Sal chuckles.

"I'm ready now if you are." I look at him.

"Fuck yeah," he says excitedly, nodding.

"Sit down, and we can get started." I gesture to the closed toilet seat lid. He kisses my cheek and lets go of me, sitting down. I gently pull the ponytail holders out of his pigtails.

"Ow!" he exclaims dramatically. I roll my eyes.

"So whiney," I tease. He pouts playfully at me. I laugh and take out the second pigtail. I rustle his hair a little. He smiles up at me.

"Gotta say goodbye to my blue-haired boy."

"Hey, you didn't let me say goodbye to my blue-haired lover," he reminds me.

"I've been a thousand colors, love. I didn't think you'd be so attached to my blue," I say as I section his hair up with a claw clip.

"Well, when you dyed it blue, I couldn't look at my hair without thinking of you," he says softly. "I liked that."

I blush slightly, my heart fluttering at his sweet words. I smile at him softly and press a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

"You're sweet. Now's your last chance to back out though," I tell him as I give the hair color one last stir before grabbing the brush and bringing it towards his head.

"Nope." He shakes his head with a grin. I laugh and apply the first streak of color onto the back of his hair.

I carefully start working the color into his blue hair, being more attentive than when I'm doing my own hair.

"This is gonna take a while. Wanna put on some music?" I ask as I apply the color in sections.

Sal nods, pulling out his phone and connecting to my speaker. After a moment, one of my favorite songs, "Black No. 1" by Type O Negative, starts playing. I chuckle softly.

"This song always reminds me of you," he smiles up at me.

"I haven't had black hair in years though," I tell him. He shrugs.

"Maybe we can do that next."

"Oh, a black-haired Sally Face would be unstoppable," I grin at him. He blushes slightly.

"You think?" he says softly. He always struggled to receive compliments, but so did I.

"I know. You'd be the ultimate emo boy," I tease, biting my tongue.

"I am NOT emo!" he exclaims. I laugh loudly. "I am punk rock, you bastard."

I laugh again as I apply more color.

"Uh-huh." He glares up at me. I grin. "I know you're not." He nods, satisfied by my answer. "But you know what song reminds me of you?"

He glares up at me again with a playful and curious expression in his eyes. "What song?"

I giggle and gesture for his phone. He sighs and hands it to me. I laugh to myself as I add a certain song to the queue. I set his phone down with a mischievous grin. He narrows his eyes at me.

"What song?" he asks again.

"Patience, Sally," he rolls his eyes at me. I continue coloring his hair, finishing up the back and moving on to a new section.

The Type O Negative song continues, and I forget that I added a song to the queue until after the eleven-minute song finishes. "Emo Boy" by Ayesha Erotica starts playing. I laugh to myself as Sally groans and blushes, glaring at me.

"I hate you," he mumbles, trying to suppress the smile tugging on his lips.

"Sure you do."

He shakes his head playfully and laughs, grabbing my hips and pulling me towards him to stand in between his legs. He wraps his arms around me and rests his head on my chest.

"You're lucky I love you," he mumbles into me. I yelp slightly, cold purple hair color getting on my white shirt.

"Sally!" I groan. He laughs and looks up at me with a smirk.

"Oops," he says sarcastically.

"You're lucky I love you." I repeat his words with a smile, not really caring that much about the shirt.

"Yes, I am," he says softly as he pulls me closer.

~~

this is my first tumblr fic ! (i wrote on wattpad back in the og days)

hope y'all enjoy! should i do a nsfw part two?

also requests are open !

<3

[kitashousewife]

be mine

an: heehee happy valentines day! there is still more to come so don't worry i'm not stopping here

pairings: timeskip!atsumu x fem!reader

warnings: little angst, lots of fluff, lots of pet names, confessions of feelings

-

the steady drum of volleyballs hitting the hardwood floor distracts atsumu's thoughts for a while. soles squeaking, teammates shouting, and the tune of the coach's whistle bouncing off of the walls. he's finally out of his head.

but, as always, the regular discussions in the locker room pull him right back in.

"how long has it been? three months? and you still haven't asked her out?"

atsumu hums, shutting his locker and giving hinata an exhausted look. "yeah, since before christmas."

"what's the hold-up?" bokuto pats atsumu on the back with wiggling eyebrows. "is little 'tsumie afraid?"

that makes him irritated. he knows he should have made things official weeks ago. the badgering isn't helping, though.

"shut up," he huffs and hides a frown with the hoodie that's pulled over his head. "until ya get a girlfriend kotaro, i don't wanna hear shit."

bokuto whistles. "okay, okay. but seriously, what's the issue?"

atsumu thinks for a second. he's honestly not really sure. he's been meaning to, he just can't find the right time.

but, he's pretty sure that's just an excuse.

"you don't have an excuse miya," sakusa smirks as they walk towards the parking lot. "i agree kotaro, i think he's scared."

"no!" atsumu quips, a little quickly. "i mean, i don't know. i really don't know. i want to, i just...can't."

"is it her? does she want to? are you getting mixed signals?" hinata rests against the hood of his car.

"no, she's always happy to talk to me. she gets excited to see me, buys me dinner, and responds immediately. she's perfect."

"soooo," sakusa raises his eyebrows. atsumu sighs.

"i just don't want to disappoint her."

his stomach flips. he's thought about it for months at this point. he wanted to make you his before the first date was over. but, his past got in the way, clouding his confidence just a touch.

past girls using him for the little money he makes. some girls accusing him of spending too much time at volleyball, and not providing enough attention. others just in it for attention, lusting after the instagram posts and twitter updates with their faces in them.

atsumu wants you to be his, and he doesn't want you to leave.

"atsumu, it's been three months. i think she knows you by now. besides, if she was interested in you for the wrong reasons, wouldn't she have left by now?" bokuto's words help atsumu to relax a little.

"yeah, yer right. god, what do i even do? i feel like a fuckin' high schooler," he whines, throwing his bag into his car.

"you're in luck. valentine's day is tomorrow, which means you have the perfect reason," sakusa slides into his car. "c'mon miya, where's your romantic side?"

atsumu thinks about that the entire drive home. he doesn't know what to do. he considers taking you out to a nice dinner, somewhere fancy and luxurious. but, reservations have probably been booked for months. he thinks about using a card, but that's lame. really, he wants to call you for advice, just like he does with everything, but that won't work.

he throws himself on his bed with a sigh.

maybe he'll never ask.

little does he know, you're in the same boat.

sitting cross-legged in the middle of your bedroom floor, you look like an art project gone wrong. glue sticks, markers, and different shades of pink cardstock litter the ground hiding the failed cards and notes from before. you sigh, putting the finishing touches on what you hope to be the final product.

a small, pink card with a bumble bee and hearts with the words bee mine in shaky cursive underneath. you're still deciding what to fill the inside with.

you don't want to say too much, but you also want to make sure you get your feelings out. it's been almost six weeks, and atsumu still hasn't made things official with you. you see him at least three times a week, he takes you to dinner but never calls them dates. he invites you to parties, event dinners, and even took you to his cousin's wedding last weekend.

what's taking him so long?

as soon as you see the clock on the wall, you groan. atsumu should be here any minute, and you haven't written a word on his card yet. he asked you if he could come over tonight, saying he was dying to see ya. since it's the night before valentines, you decide this may be your only shot. you quickly scribble something down, hearing his footsteps through the thin walls of your apartment. quick hands shove the evidence into a garbage bag before you scurry to wash up.

"honey, i'm home!" atsumu sings as he opens the door. "wait! close yer eyes!"

"why should i listen to someone who just entered my home without permission?" you say, eyes firmly closed from your spot on the couch.

"yet, ya listened anyway huh?" he teases when you flip him off from the couch. "keep em' closed pretty. i'm not ready yet."

your heart beats a little quicker. "o-okay, but i have to tell you something."

"alright sweetheart. just a second," he grunts, tripping over the strings of the five heart balloons that he holds in his left hand. he shuffles over to you at sets down a container of chocolate-covered strawberries (that he had to beg osamu to make), and a dozen roses. you smile when you hear the crinkle of cellophane.

atsumu's stomach is doing flips, but he can't do this anymore.

"okay, you can open." his voice sounds a lot more nervous than he would've liked. when you open them, he can't quite read your face.

"atsumu," you breathe. you aren't sure where to look.

"i know, it's a lot, but listen," he flops down next to you, grabbing your hands in his. "i didn't want to be lame but, i just wanted to tell you."

"okay," you ease him on. he takes a deep breath, before smiling wide.

"i think that ya have got to be the most beautiful girl i have ever seen in my life," he looks at you with hearts in his eyes. "from the moment i met ya, i wanted to make ya mine. i want to be the one ya come home to after a long day, i want to see ya in the stands during my games with my jersey on," his cheeks get a little pink.

"i want ya to be mine. my girlfriend."

"atsumu," you breathe, just like before. this time is a little more shaky, but with a bigger smile. "i want to be yours. i want you to be mine."

he laughs running his hand through his hair. "really?"

you nod, holding his face in your hands.

"really," you smile, pulling him in for a kiss. atsumu doesn't pull away until he absolutely has to, wanting to drown in this moment and keep it forever.

"baby, i don't think ya know how happy i am right now," he really can't stop smiling, no matter how hard he tries. he feels like a weight has been lifted off of his chest, amazed at the instant relief he feels after telling you.

"you didn't have to do all of this!" you pull at the balloons, watching them bounce off of one another.

"yes i did! plus, ya gotta try one of these. my brother made 'em and they're amazin'." you reach down to grab one, but he stops you.

"let me grab one!" you giggle, but he smirks.

"what's in your hand?"

you freeze, forgetting all about the card that rests between your fingertips.

"nothing."

"oh c'mon angel, lemme see!"

you shake your head, but he persists.

"why not!"

"because it's stupid, especially compared to all of this!" you gesture towards the flowers and berries.

"please," he begs, giving you a large pout. you roll your eyes.

"fine, but save the comments for yourself. i worked really hard on it."

atsumu pulls the card from it's envelope slowly before giving a quiet gasp.

"i know, i know, it looks like a preschooler did it. just give it back and-"

"are ya kidding me?" he practically shrieks. "this is goin' straight on my locker. 'gonna tape it right to the front."

"are you serious?"

"mhm," he hums, smirking when he reads the inside of the card.

happy valentine's day atsumu. you're the most handsome man i've ever met, and the funniest too. i hope that you will "bee mine" once and for all.

"what's so funny?"

"nothin', i'm just thinkin' that you might have a crush on me."

you roll your eyes, scooching a little closer to him on the couch. he wraps his arms around you and plants a kiss on top of your head.

"for the record, i have a crush on ya too. a huge one."

[venusbyline]

Fire ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 18, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Daemon Targaryen x niece!reader

— type: smut, dark, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: primal play + breath play

— summary: Daemon wants his other niece to release the dragon fire within her. But things go too far when she stabs him after he leaves Rhaenyra's wedding ceremony early.

— word count: 1.6k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 18th day, Targcest (uncle/niece), female!reader, dark!Daemon, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, dubcon, primal play, breath play, age gap (older man/younger woman), choking, degradation, vaginal sex, rough sex, loss of virginity, corruption kink, crying, dacryphilia, nipple play, fighting, blood kink, blood licking, violence, head injury, chasing, sexism, underage sex, creampie, breeding kink, overstimulation, dumbification, semi-public sex, curse words, manipulation, stabbing, family issues, sadism, Rhaenyra Targaryen mentioned, minor Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen, ambiguous/open ending, dom!Daemon, sub!reader, canon divergence, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads @turdettethefirst

— crossposting: AO3

After Daemon's involvement with Rhaenyra, you tried to confront him. You were furious with him, already knowing everything he had done to cause that chaos in your older sister's life and now she was paying the price, being forced to marry your cousin Laenor Velaryon.

Even though you were a year younger than Rhaenyra, you were not surprised when rumors about her and Daemon started flying around King's Landing. Your uncle's obsession with her, the heir to the Iron Throne, the future Queen, was nothing new to anyone. You sometimes wondered if all that fire and passion that Daemon seemed to feel for your sister was just because of her personality itself or if it was also an unconscious way of him trying to get as close as possible to the crown.

When Daemon left her wedding ceremony early, you took advantage of the lords and ladies being drinking, dancing or gossiping so you could go after Daemon. You had prepared for this, disguising yourself and being almost an exact, shorter copy of your uncle. It did not take long for you to make it out of the castle and have your sword at Daemon's throat, your anger clear in your tone as you whispered how he had probably ruined your sister's life forever.

He was not surprised by your audacity and lack of respect. In fact, his biggest surprise was that you really had bravery to confront him. You have always been in Rhaenyra's shadow. Never the firstborn and heir, like her. And never the desired son, like little Aegon. You were... Just you. Your less daring personality made Daemon rarely notice you. All he knew was that you were very beautiful, even though he did not like your judgmental and calmer manner.

He wanted you to release the dragon fire that ran in your blood, in your veins. And that is exactly what you were doing.

When Daemon chased you through the disgusting corridors of Flea Bottom, your heart was racing. You could see the confused and even amused looks from the drunken commoners as you screamed, running desperately to try and hide from your angry uncle. You had crossed a line, you knew it. You had gone too far, the wish to be noticed and have your worth proven had spoken louder than your common sense.

You planned to confront him, threaten him for sealing your sister's fate with a such cruel and selfish way, tell him that Viserys was right about him wanting the throne, not his daughter. However, you did not plan on sticking the sword in your uncle's waist. It had been an impulsive thought, the result of your dark and sensitive emotions after he taunted you about your insignificance to the entire family. He always saw you as a dull shadow of your older sister. Rhaenyra was always busy with Daemon and never really bothered trying to pay attention to you since both of you grew up. Your mother Aemma died and left behind a trauma in your life. Your half-siblings were just babies. And your father Viserys was too busy protecting his firstborn and future queen.

As stupid as it could be, the only person who still cared a little about your existence was your stepmother Alicent. Despite being Rhaenyra's former best friend, you were easier to get along with. You were not impulsive and obsessed with Daemon, and you had not been angry about her marriage to your father, after all, it is not like she had much of a choice.

But no one else in all of Westeros cared about your existence, to the point that Viserys had not even considered marrying you yet.

You hated being seen as Rhaenyra's shadow, especially because you loved your sister despite everything. Then when Daemon pointed out your insignificance and added about being surprised by your boldness, your stomach twisted and you stabbed the blade of your sword into his waist, catching him off guard. It had not been a blow strong enough to make him almost bleed to death or anything like that. However, it had been enough to awaken the dragon within his uncle.

And it caused you to run through the streets, screaming and trying to run away from Daemon Targaryen like a fragile, vulnerable lamb. The chase lasted more than thirty minutes. Daemon was proud about you, he had to admit. He thought you would give in or fall to the floor any moment ago, but you never did. You managed to evade him for the entire thirty minutes. He did not even feel the pain of the cut anymore, despite the blood smeared on his disguise.

Once Daemon finally managed to catch up to you, both of you were in a secluded part, away from all the drunks who walked around like annoying spirits. His large hand grabbed the back of your neck, your smaller body being thrown across the dead end, the sound of your bones hitting the ground almost scared himself. Daemon did not usually hesitate when it came to hurting someone, but despite your fucking insolence, killing the King's daughter would not be forgiven, even if you were the insignificant one.

Then he took a deep breath, approaching you, who was stunned on the floor. He saw the blood dripping from your head, but he also saw that you were conscious and not only terrified, but angry too, the dragon fire in your violet eyes making him smirk. "Yeah, good girl." Daemon mocked, pulling you by the neck and keeping you upright, his bloody hands squeezing your throat so you could not escape, limiting the air from your already weak lungs. "Wake up the dragon inside you, sweet one. Let me find out if you are worth tasting or if you really are just a waste of time."

Your head was still dizzy, your vision was so blurry as you felt Daemon's hand pressed to your mouth to muffle the loud sounds that escaped your lips. He had already been in enough trouble involving Rhaenyra and that damn brothel. He did not need more commoners commenting on the fact that his other niece was moaning like a little whore every time his hips hit you rough.

His cock was being crushed by your little cunt, he could feel your warm walls squeezing him, the sensation of your wetness mixing with the blood that dripped during his movements. Daemon was no fool, he always knew you were a virgin. Untouchable by any other man. Until then, he had never created any real desire to corrupt you, his mind too focused on Rhaenyra for him to consider looking away. The combination of the sensation of your cunt and the pleasure of taking your blood just like you had done to him before was motivating him to continue. He wanted to take you to your limit.

"Seven Hells. Look at you..." Daemon growled between moans, his hand that was covering your mouth now coming down to grip your neck, while the other had fun exploring your pretty nipples. "Bleeding on your uncle's cock like a fucking stupid whore." The scoff was followed by a tighter grip on your throat, your eyes rolling back as he continued to fuck you like an animal, his balls slapping your thighs and ass so hard you did not even know how he had not already ripped you in half. You felt like your core could tear at any moment.

"D-Daemon..." Your whimper came out strangled, your fingers gripping the masculine shirt of your disguise clothes, trying to ground yourself in reality and not let yourself lose consciousness. You did not know if you should want to go through with it. You did not know if it was right to want Daemon to continue treating you like that, giving you a handout of attention for the first time in all your years of life. Gods, you hated him. He hated you too. You were Rhaenyra's shadow and she was Daemon's shadow. Rhaenyra was everything you wanted to be. And Daemon was everything Rhaenyra wanted to be.

"Just relax, sweet one." Daemon's words sounded breathless, both because of the movements and the slight twinge of pain in his wound, but there was no way that would make him stop. He felt your cunt spasming around his big thick cock, trying to get used to being filled for the first time. You knew that no one else in the world would fuck you like this, like an animal. Like a dragon. "You feel so good, little dragon. I never imagined I would say that, but I could get used to this thing, you know that? Fucking you, corrupting you, hurting you..." Daemon teased, his blood-filled fingers pressing one of your breasts until leaving marks from his nails on your soft skin, your face pressed against the alley wall, hurting your delicate face and increasing Daemon's arousal.

You felt the moment Daemon came, his white and warm essence filling you and making your legs shake from the overstimulation, as Daemon continued fucking you, pushing his seed even deeper. "Well, perhaps you will be a good replacement after all. Perhaps I should let you carry my heirs, princess. What do you think about that, insolent little niece?" You ignored his mockery, the bruises on your cheek burning with the tears that flowed, both of pleasure and sadness, anger and pain. You hated that. You loved that. You hated Daemon. You wanted Daemon. It was all so confusing that Daemon laughed out loud when you finally came around him, your tight and sensitive little cunt milking him.

Daemon's tongue licked the bloody wound on the back of your head and you moaned at the burn. "That is right, my new little dragon. You are so easy to claim. I guess I might start to like all of this."

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[honey-minded-hivemind]

*becky and reader fighting/arguing*

“Here comes Logan with a steel chair”

All jokes aside it would be so scary if all of the X-men had places around and in readers house that they haunt. Like Kurt crawls around on the ceilings or hides in the closet or under the bed, we already know morph follows them to work, Logan haunt the woods and the backyard, there would be no place in that house where you would be alone or…safe?

Oooooo... (Logan is coming with his claws after Becky, just watch him-) You're right. Usually they come in either in a small group of three, or only one at a time. But since you've mentioned this... let's explore which characters investigate which parts of Reader's apartment:

Scott: He investigates everywhere. Your living room? He's looked through all of your books and tapes, and happily notes you have the same taste as you did with them. Your pantry l? He's tutting and making note to get Morph or Logan or Gambit to snag you some real food if they go past your home. Your bathroom? He makes sure you have essentials, and removes any razors or anything sharp or potentially dangerous. Your bedroom/storage room? He hates how bare it is, and doesn't like you don't have a bed. If he visits at night, he's usually sitting next to you, putting your head in his lap amd stroking your hair, trying to calm down...

Jean: She sticks to your kitchen and bedroom/living room. She's making notes, communicating to the others what you have, how similar you are to the Reader they remember you being, and if they need to watch out for signs of depression, anxiety, or self-harm. She's fixed dinner a few nights, simply setting it up in a way that is the least suspicious, getting a fake note saying a neighbor wanted to send you a welcome gift~♡

Logan: He's checking the woods behind your apartment, he's scouring the entire neighborhood, and he's guarding your living room and sleeping area. Gets rid of any pests pests as snakes or burglars, collects rocks or bones or any odd bits you might appreciate, and scares off anyone who tries to knock on your door or break in at night. During the day, a few people thought he was a rabid bear or badger, but he doesn't care, as long as you're safe and any threats are dEAd- (will rub your back in your sleep, trying to ease any pain, and will purr or chuff if you're crying in your sleep)...

Morph: They're following you everywhere, of course~! In the house, they're taking care of any pests or chores, trying to make it feel more comfortable. At your job, they're helping you and handling more annoying customers, especially BecKy- (they hate her, and plan to rid the both of you of her). When you have the odd day off, they're taking you out to enjoy nature walks, going to an arcade, or eating at some nice diner or Cafe or getting some McDuncans. During the day or night when they aren't with you or taking care of pests, they're inspecting your home and getting rid of anything that could hurt you (they don't like that knife you had, they will nOt leT YoU HuRt yOursElf-!)...

Gambit: He's in your kitchen or your closet, or is out exploring the town. Gets extra foods for you, stocks your pantry or freezer, sets a pot of soup soup boil or a roast to cook, Gambit is making sure your fed. He's found a few old boxes in your closet, an extra book full of drawings you'd made (when he sees its them, the X-Men and a few others, he's speeding it back to the others). He helps keep the crime down in your area, feeds some stray animals, then always wanders back to your home, clicking the door shut and making sure your tapes are ready to play~ (he tucks blankets around you, adding a few extra pillows when you aren't looking or aren't home)...

Rogue: She's investigating your bathroom, your living room, and the shadier parts of your area. In your bathroom, she adds some soaps, but overall doesn't mess with much, while when in town, she's hinting fown dangerous criminals and making sure they don't ever get near your home or job or you. In the afternoon she keeps an eye on your living room, looming at the few pictures on the wall and messing with your plushies. (When you sleep she tends to pat your head, then sneaks out to take care of any problems...)...

Nightcrawler: He's on your roof, on your ceiling, is in the woods, and just goes wherever he can. Your ceiling is where he hides if you're awake when home and he's not left yet, and watches you from there, wishing he could wrap you up in a hug. When you're out, he's rifling through your clothes, your boxes, your pantry, your plushies, anything to know who you are here and if you're still you (he's pleasantly surprised to see your tastes are the same, less happy to see your memory isn't always good or that you sometimes break down when something is out of place or the TV seems too much...)

Storm: She investigates your living room, bit otherwise doesn't go much anywhere else, unless it's your bedroom/storage room. She's adding blankets over you as you sleep, she's leaving a few gifts scattered in places you'll find them, and makes sure the weather isn't too bright for your newly sensitive eyes and that the weather doesn't harm you. Has added an extra pot of stew to your kitchen. (She sings to you sometimes when you're asleep, it reminds her of old times with you)...

Beast: He's checking your medicine cabinet, your entire kitchen amd bathroom, and is taking enough notes on your health, what you eat, your symptoms, and any medicine you have or any used products. (He is NOT happy to see a that you hid a bloodstained towel, he's telling Scott to keep any sharp objects away from you). Leaves you books books knows you used to like, and gets Morph to sometimes give you better medicine hidden in food or drinks (it's to ease any pain from your mutations coming back and the withdrawal, all caused by Sinister's pills). Is stocking your first aid kit, making a list of foods and meals for Gambit, Morph, Logan and Scott to get you or make, and tells everyone to watch out for any signs your mutations are coming back...

Jubilee: She's looking through your closet, and once or twice looked at your job. She steals a hoodie of yours, wanting to have a piece of you with her and the others to hug, and leaves a plushie of you (your character). Left some candy behind, gossioed with Morph when she comes by, and once or twice scared off some punk who was trying to sneak behind your house. (She noticed you wore the charm bracelet from when you were them, and immediately gasps, alerting the others to it-)...

Bonus:

Magneto: He's looking everywhere in your entire town and it's surrounding environment. Any dangerous electronics or plumbing or wiring he can fix, it's done. Your neighbors or any abusive or toxic family come by, he's quick to terrify them (and set them up to he arrested or to be caught by the others, whichever is worse for them). If you have an iron deficiency, he knows it, and gets Morph or Beast to leave you some iron deficiency pills. (Has also met Becky, hates her, let Morph or Logan or someone else take care of her while he ruins her car)...

Sabretooth: He's exploring every dark crack, each tree, each dark alley, anywhere and everywhere he can find. Any dangerous sorts about to rob your job? He's gutting them in thr back of an alley where no one can hear them scream. Becky hurt you? When Morph or Logan's dome scaring her, ol' Sabretooth is visiting her to cut out that nasty tongue of hers, and rips her nails off. A rattlesnake was too close to your apartment? It's head rolls off into the woods, while he crushes the body between his claws as it wriggles in its last moments. Someone was harassing you? ... There is nothing left but a few bones and blood smears once he's had his turn at them. Nothing hurts you, nothing breathes wrong against you, nothing can even look at you wrong without earning his wrath (you're his kit, weren't you, why can't you remember him remember them why can't you coMe hOmE aLReaDy-?!)... He leaves a few pieces of meat for you to eat, as well as a rabbit's foot...

( @thewickedweiner @sugar-soda @weebwholovesuchihasasuke What do y'all think? Who would you hate to see in the middle night as you woke up from a nightmare? And which one do you think is the most dangerous?)

[sinfullyrosey]

Feral Follies - Part 1

Floyd Leech X GN!Honey Badger!Reader

Warnings: Biting, Violence, Enemies to Lovers (who are still enemies), Hate Fucking, Rough Sex, Dom!Floyd (he tops), Dom!Reader, Eel Slime as Lube (sorry not sorry)

No smut in this part, but will in the next. I haven’t really been posting any big fics as of lately due to school, so wanted to get something out there, even if it’s not any actual smut.

Also, it’s a chance for me to try something different by asking ya’ll whether or not I should give Reader male or female genitalia for part 2 of this fic. Originally, I was just going to have the scene play out and not specify anything, but I got stuck writing it and now am considering giving ‘em female bits just to make things easier on me. Or should I stick to my original plan and leave it up in the air? I’ll be able to be more descriptive with an actual set of naughty bits.

I’ll try not to use any pronouns regardless of the final outcome though.

Your relationship with the infamous Floyd Leech is rather… complicated to say the least. The two of you didn’t have the best foot forward when meeting and this had undoubtedly caused a sort of heated rivalry between you and the Leech brother.

It had been during lunch, while you were walking over to your dormmates’ table, food in hand, when you noticed a tall, Octavinelle student looming over your friend. Said friend was cowering from the looming figure, while a few of your dormmates bristled and snarled at the stranger but didn’t move to defend the quivering beastman.

This didn’t sit well with you, so you hurried over to the table and put your tray down, before climbing onto the table to gain some leverage. This got the attention of everyone at the table, including your friend and the stranger, and before the tall asshole could say anything, you promptly bit into his shoulder without any warning, just like how you were taught back home.

All hell broke loose after that, students were panicking and hollering as the scene unfolded before them. The student, who you currently were latched onto, didn’t take too kindly to your actions and retaliated in turn. He growled and grabbed at you, attempting to pry you off, swearing at you as he did so.

You responded by biting down harder, drawing a few more droplets of blood.

The next of what happened was a bit of a blur as you had been rather blinded by your initial fury during the whole ordeal. You remember the student trying to bite you back but being unable to reach your shoulder or neck properly. He settled for simply clawing and punching at you, and at some point, began wrestling your still latched on form to the ground.

He was on top of you, trying to smother you under his weight by the time faculty arrived. A few other students also from his dorm arrived, attempting to break you two apart without getting caught in the crossfire themselves. There was even one of them who looked oddly like the jerk you were mentally maiming, though he kept his distance and tried to defuse the situation with words aimed at his lookalike.

Eventually staff was able to pull you off him and separate the two of you before matters really got out of hand. It was a wonder how neither of you got expelled, but from the looks the headmaster gave, it appeared this wasn’t the first time this sort of occurrence happened involving the said Octavinelle student.

Crowley left you off with a warning and said that since it was only you and the other who got injured and there was no property damage, you only had to help clean the cafeteria for two weeks.

Whatever, at least that jerkwad got what was coming to him, so it was worth the punishment.

Since that day, the student you now knew as Floyd, had taken to referring to you as “Barracuda” in reference to your feisty nature and stubborn, yet powerful bite. You didn’t much care for such nickname, especially after learning that the name was slightly derogatory on his part, a way to belittle and distant you from him.

No matter, you took to referring to him as “Kinyesi” in return, an obviously derogatory term of your own. He didn’t catch on until much later when one of Savanaclaw’s students told him what the term directly translated to.

Though your relationship didn’t stop at just name calling, oh no no, it spread into verbal and physical confrontations as well. That first fight in the cafeteria certainly wasn’t your last. You and Floyd had gotten into plenty of other fights over the past few months, usually taking place outside of class, away from the other students and staff. Rarely did you two ever get in a brawl where you could get caught and sent to the headmaster again.

And yet, the bruises and scars still painted a very vivid picture to anyone who saw them to what has been occurring between the two of you since that first fight. Your arms, face, and torso were littered with healed scratch marks and bitemarks. The same was for Floyd, accept he was the only one with a deep bitemark scar on his shoulder. The mereel still hadn’t managed to pay you back for that one.

That is, until today.

Floyd managed to get the upper hand by ambushing you while you were alone in one of the infrequently used hallways on campus. He snuck up behind you and unsuspectingly picked up your smaller frame by your underarms and slammed your back against the wall.

Your bag clattered to the floor in the process and your head spun from the impact. Once you gathered your bearings, you glared up at that stupidly, toothy grin of his.

“Hehe, hi little Barracuda.~”

You huffed, baring your fangs, ears flattened backwards in a warning to back off. Floyd was unfazed by the threat, more so amused.

“Fuck off, Kinyesi.”

His grin faltered at that, but as quickly as it fell, it curled back up, wider, and more sinister. Before you could even think to react, the eel sprung forward and clamped his jaw right into your shoulder, sinking his sharp teeth into your flesh.

Your eyes widened and a sharp hiss fell past your lips. On instinct you struggled in his grip, but was unable to free yourself, let alone gain proper leverage given your dangling position. He managed to draw some blood, much like how your own bite did to him.

Your kicking and clawing did nothing to remove the eel’s maw from your shoulder, so you were left with raging insults thrown his way as you cursed him out. The bastard was unfazed by your violent attempts and only responded by gnawing at the injury, causing more jolts of pain to shoot out along your shoulder and neck area.

But as quickly as he sunk his teeth into you, Floyd soon released himself from you and pulled away to now face you once more. He had that same annoying grin on his face, this time painted in the scarlet red of your own blood.

He licked his lips.

“Now we’re even!”

He said it so nonchalantly, like a child who just hit the kid who hit them first in retaliation. He was trivializing such a brutal display like it was nothing. You couldn’t help but growl up at him, even after he placed you back down on the ground, still grinning down at you.

Your hand raised to inspect the damage. You winced at the sharp sting and hot feeling of the small amount of blood now clotting on your shoulder. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad, nothing compared to the nasty bite you initially gave him, anyways.

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. Why didn’t he cause more damage? Try to maul you or rip a chunk of your flesh out? He had the perfect opportunity and just, squandered it?!

“The fuck you mean, “We’re even?” You just bit my shoulder, unprompted, asshole!”

He merely shrugged as if it was obvious.

“You bit me unprompted and left a mark, so it’s only fair I do the same to you little Baracuda!~”

Your tail swayed in irritation at his response. He wasn’t entirely wrong in what he said, but you technically attacked him to defend your friend. He attacked you because he’s a psychotic, violent jerk! Yours wasn’t unprompted, but his sure as hell was!

“And now we match!”

Ears perked at the statement, and you could only look at him in complete bewilderment at what he just said. His sadistic grin had turned to one of playfulness and contentment, almost sounding, friendly in a way. Not a hint of mockery or threat could be heard in his tone. He sounded genuinely happy at what he had just proclaimed to you, as if he hadn’t just bit into your flesh like a predator starved.

“You are some next level batshit, Kinyesi.”

Weeks had gone by since that day, with little change between you and Floyd Leech. Well, on your part at least. You still hated the twin, and the two of you still had your weekly brawls that usually ended in either a draw or you, somehow, coming out on top. You still hated his guts and he still found joy in annoying you.

But recently the fights had somehow… shifted.

They were still violent and full of loathing, but it felt as if the atmosphere surrounding you two had a new air to it. Like the heat was no longer just about the animosity shared between you and him. As if something else, something new and unknown, was present whenever either of you landed a particularly harsh bite to the other.

The bites had become less painful, less about causing damage and more aimed towards a direction you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It was a foreign and strange feeling that built up in the pit of your stomach and festered there, growing hotter and hotter the more you fought.

The foundation of your and Floyd’s relationship had changed at some point and neither have properly acted on it, let alone, realized the shift.

You and the Leech brother found yourselves once again duking it out in an isolated spot on campus, away from the prying eyes of the other students and staff. Floyd had provoked you like he always did and before thinking things through, you had already tackled him to the ground, growling and spitting insults with every attack you threw his way.

In turn, he threw some of his own punches right back at you and had even managed to get you in a choke hold twice before you clawed your way back out again. Both of you were already gaining some new claw marks and bruises. Floyd was loving every second of it and acting as if you were merely play-wrestling, despite your expression saying otherwise.

He had managed to pin you to the ground once more, putting all his weight on you and holding your hands down so you couldn’t use them. You were spitting and hissing at him, trying to wiggle your hands free and bucking your hips to try and push him off of you, but to no avail.

Floyd was unfazed by your efforts and was sending a slew of mocking taunts and insults right back. His red-stained, pearly whites flashing in warning, possibly about to sink into your skin for the hundredth time. You growled, baring yours right back as if to say, “Try me, bitch.”

Your efforts to remove him caused you to feel something you hadn’t felt before. Something that was not just his flat pelvic area… Something sharper… pointier…

You suddenly froze, body on high alert and aware of something hard poking at your lower region. You sniffed at the air, picking up a distinct scent. You slowly, forcefully pulled your gaze away from his face and down towards his lower half to spot a noticeable tent peeking out from his pants. Your eyes widened and breath hitched.

“Is… is that..?”

Oh Great Sevens, he was popping a boner in the middle of your fight.

A heated flush took over your face, removing the redness from your anger and replacing it with embarrassment. Your eyes widened up at him in disbelief and disgust. His eccentric expression hadn’t changed, lips curling up wider in excitement.

“Oh, my fucking-ARE YOU TURNED ON BY THIS?!?!”

The mereel let out an uncharacteristic trill sound you hadn’t heard before and got closer to your face.

“Maybe.~”

Maybe your ass. His dick was harder than those weak attempt at cookies Kalim made for that one celebration a few weeks back. You huffed hot air into his sleazy face and hissed.

“Neee, I’m bored of our usual game, Barracuda, let’s play something more fun!~”

He proceeded to emphasize his point with a quick thrust of his clothed dick against your crotch. The contact sent a sharp jolt of heat to your lower stomach, and you bit your lip to keep any sound down.

“What are you-” You were interrupted when you took a sharp inhale at the pleasant feeling building in your nether regions.

“I’ve noticed a change in our little game, Barracuda. I’ve notices that you smell different whenever we wrestle, different than your usual smell. Your scent is more… inviting.~”

A blush rose to your cheeks. So, it wasn’t just you who’s noticed, huh? Something was different that even the eel jerk had taken notice and decided to act upon it by grinding his hips down onto you. And you’d be lying if you said this shift wasn’t in the least bit welcomed. You were still trying to wrap your mind around these newfound feelings, but his blunt advances in the matter were aiding to convince you easier.

But did you really want this, truly? With him of all people? The big bad eel of Octavinelle Dorm? The giant thorn in your side for the past month or so? The guy who got your heart racing and blood boiling in a mix of frustration and odd attraction. The one who currently was on top of you, still pinning your smaller body to the ground and grinning down at you in that charmingly condescending way.

The guy you so desperately wanted to kiss and let rail you right about now.

. . .

Ah, fuck it.

You threw all doubt to the wind and proceeded to aggressively mash your mouth against his, teeth clattering together and lips sloppily molding together in a mess of heated aggression and hormones. The eel was taken aback at first, but slowly grinned into the kiss before returning it with just as much vigor.

You moaned into the kiss, pushing your hips up to meet his own grinding thrusts. Heat started to pool inside you and spread throughout your body as Floyd let go of your hands to instead roam free and grope around your sides and butt. With your own free hands, you quickly wrapped them around his head and neck to pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

When he tried to pull away from your kiss, possibly to say something stupid or make some quip at how desperate you were being, you growled lowly before harshly biting his bottom lip. The sharp nip drew blood and got a disgruntled groan out of the taller male. His bicolored eyes leered down at you, taking it as a challenge and trying to bite into your tongue, albeit unsuccessfully. Instead, you bit his tongue, much gentler in comparison to the one you did on his lip.

His attempts made you pull away, a string of reddish-pink saliva connecting you two before breaking off. You licked the copper liquid from your lips, grinning up at him while he snarled down at you in return.

“What’s wrong, Floydy-boy, badger got your tongue?” You teased, tail wagging beneath you.

The eel huffed, but matched your smirk, lips pulling back to reveal more and more of his razor-sharp teeth in a show of challenge. A challenge you were willing to accept with just as much vigor, if not more so.

“No, but you’re about to have an eel have yours, Barracuda.”

[undead-supernova]

Masterlist

plot: when you suggest that you and Eddie should quit smoking cigarettes, Eddie struggles to believe in his capabilities. but there's just something about the way you challenge him...

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

important note: this is a one-off of my High Tolerance series! Somehow I can't get enough of Eddie and Weirdo and I can't help but come back to them. (this is six months before Part 1 of the original series!)

warnings: fluffy fluff fluff fluuuuuuuuuuffffff, talking about smoking, a small argument, Southern culture, country music, reader has an accent, (why are Eddie and Weirdo so horny as friends? shouldn't they have known sooner? idiots)

wc: 2.4k

thank yew @strangergraphics for your adorable dividers!!!!

It was unusual, the way it all started.

Just a normal Tuesday with the bitter cold of January and the crowded highways blocked off by unnecessary construction. Honks muffled by the sound of Guns ‘N Roses’ “Welcome To The Jungle” coming through your speakers. You were clad in a black turtleneck and jeans. Eyes lined in black, maroon-lipped. Spiked bracelets and nine shiny rings dappling light around the car.

Eddie was riding shotgun, sighing alongside you at how slow the traffic was moving when you first said it.

“I have a proposition.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “A proposition?”

You nodded. “Yeah, and I want you to hear me out.”

“Uh, okay?” he said, unsure as to what was about to come out of your mouth.

“I think we should stop smoking cigarettes,” you stated simply, looking back at the road as you inched forward. “A New Year’s resolution.”

“Nuh-uh,” he said, throwing his hands up, his rings reflecting off yours. “No way. Nope.”

“What! Why not?” you exclaimed, now throwing your hands up before promptly putting them back on the steering wheel.

Eddie had his own reasons, like how he’d been smoking for nearly ten years and the irritation of working at a dealership where rich idiots badgered him for just doing his job. The stress of bills and keeping his music career afloat. Not to mention how fucking sweet a puff of nicotine was whenever he got drunk or cross-faded. Nothing beats that feeling. Even you knew that.

“I just don’t want to.”

“Even if I did it with you?” you asked, voice growing soft.

He looked at you, confusion falling over his features. Your eyes seemed a little solemn, like you were disappointed by his refusal. And it was in your expression that he felt drawn to the idea. Because, yeah, if you actually could stop, maybe he could, too. But…

“We wouldn’t stop smoking weed, you know,” you added, cutting off his thoughts. “Just cut out the cancer sticks.”

“It won’t be as easy for me,” he said, sighing defeatedly. “I, uh, I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“You always doubt your own strength, I swear.” You shook your head. “You’re so smart but so, so stupid sometimes. I say that affectionately, by the way.”

Before Eddie could think about some witty comeback, he heard the sound of the next song starting. It was different from your usual genres. It was the picking of a guitar, all folky and twangy and…

Country.

“What is this?” he asked, eyeing you.

You smirked, cranking the volume up as you started singing along.

         “Well, I was raised up beneath the shade of a Georgia Pine

         and that’s home, you know

         Sweet tea, pecan pie, and homemade wine

         where the peaches grow."

Eddie groaned. “Dude, what the fuck is this?”

You merely shook your head, your tone as playful as your expression. “It’s Zac Brown Band, god dammit! Show some respect.”

He was struck by your Southern accent popping up out of seemingly nowhere. And before he could even remotely process that or protest again, you cleared your throat and started screaming.

Not singing. Screaming.

         “A LITTLE BIT OF CHICKEN FRIED

         A COLD BEER ON A FRIDAY NIGHT

         A PAIR OF JEANS THAT FIT JUST RIGHT

         AND THE RADIO UUUUUUP!”

“Please turn it off,” Eddie pleaded, dragging his hands down his face. “I think you’re killing me.”

“Nope,” you said simply. “My car, my music. It’s the least you can do when we’re stuck on this highway and you’re refusing to quit smoking without even trying.”

“Oh, come on,” Eddie huffed. “Like it’s that fucking easy.”

“Have you ever tried to stop smoking?”

Eddie thought about it for two, maybe three seconds before feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

There had never been a singular thought given to the idea of quitting. Not once. Smoking was just something he did. There wasn’t much else to it. No secret shame or guilt. No bargaining or grief. No, it was just something he did.

“No,” he admitted, avoiding your eyes. 

“At least think about it, okay?”

Eddie nodded before glancing back at you. You continued humming along to the god awful song and tapped the steering wheel, as pretty as ever. And he was surely in love with you. Really, he was. But he thought he was going to explode from how much he hated this song. It wasn’t just the sound, but the lyrics and how you knew every single one.

If he didn’t want a cigarette before, he surely wanted one now.

By the time the bridge hit, you cleared your throat, straightened your posture, and threw up a salute.

Eddie stared at you like you were crazy. “What the—”

         “I thank God for my life!

         And for stars and stripes

         May freedom forever fly, let it riiiiiiing.”

“Oh, I swear to god. I’m losing my mind.”

         “Salute the ones who died

         The ones that give their lives

         So we don’t have to sacrifice

         all the things we looooooooooove.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie decided to throw up a quick salute himself. “Aye, aye, boys. Yes, okay,” he sighed. “Can we please change it?”

You nodded then and Eddie was severely grateful to hear the beginning notes to “Rebel Girl” by Bikini Kill.

Thank god.

But you didn’t let up. “You can’t just live in the South for three years and not listen to at least one country song.”

“I did a reaaaally good job up until now.” That made you laugh. “I didn’t know you listened to country.”

“I contain multitudes, Eddie. Multitudes. Layers. Like an onion.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s in my blood. Don’t hate on country music just ‘cause you don’t get it. There’s more out there than just jeans, beer, girls, and tractors.”

“Don’t forget trucks.”

You snorted before exaggerating your accent. “Yeah, and I’ll run you over with one, boy.”

Despite his frustration at the grating music, Eddie stopped itching for a cigarette. No, the desire had disappeared entirely. He was looking at you, all giggles and lighthearted apologies, and couldn’t help but laugh along at how utterly goofy the encounter was.

And once he took a second to think about it, he realized that your accent had bled through the entire song. Your sweet little Southern accent that rarely popped out had been on full display for him and only him. That paired with your eyeliner and your spikes and your lips and your everything. It was…cute. Like, very cute.

You were always just so genuine. It was in the way you just fucking cared about things. How you just wanted to try and how it made him want to try, too. You always knew there was more inside of him than even he knew. How you did it, he couldn’t say.

It was hard to say no to you.

It was hard not to love you.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Let’s do it.”

You gawked at him, rapidly flicking your head back and forth from him to the road as traffic began to finally pick up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And like every addiction, the first week was the hardest.

If Eddie was sitting, his legs were bouncing. If he had a moment to spare, he was drinking coffee and scarfing Red Vines. Kept a toothpick in his mouth as if it would do anything. Frustration ran down his limbs in shivers that turned into unprovoked anger. It was fucking killing him.

You weren’t doing too hot either. When you called, you complained about a sore jaw from the three packs of wintermint gum you’d gone through. Bitten cheeks and lips. Irritation from anything and everything that came across your path.

So, when you saw each other that weekend, Eddie said flat out, “I don’t wanna quit anymore.”

You dropped your scrubber back into the sink, turning your head to gawk at him in shock. Mouth wide open, showing off a pitiful piece of gum you’d been chewing on for maybe two hours.

“What?”

Eddie shrugged, suddenly intimidated by your gaze. “Don’t you think this is, I don’t know, too much?”

“Too much?” you asked, voice hardening.

“Yeah.”

“Eddie, you haven’t even tried yet.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, that incessant frustration rising up his chest and into his mouth. “I have and it’s not working.”

“You have not!” you argued, placing your hands on your hips. “It’s been a week and, yeah, this is fucking hard. But it’s just temporary. Robin said it takes at least a week or longer for it to, like, detox. Probably longer for us.”

Barking out a bitter laugh, Eddie challenged you. “What if I don’t care what Robin thinks?”

“Then you’re giving up and you’ll spend the next however many years killing your lungs because it was hard for a week.”

“You’re one to talk! You’ve smoked for the same amount of time as me.”

“And yet I’m still fighting for it.”

He watched your chewing seemingly turn aggressive, knowing that you were disappointed in him. And it was actually hurting. 

That first flare of guilt hit him then. 

“Why do you want me to quit so bad?” he wondered.

“Because I know you can do it!” you exclaimed. “This shit sucks, Eddie. I’m literally gonna lose my mind some time soon. But it’s not forever.” 

He rolled his eyes. But he realized it was most definitely a mistake when you stepped forward and put a finger to his chest, eyes locked on yours as your breath seemingly washed over his neck.

“Because after everything I know about you, your past, I know you wouldn’t be here right now if you were someone who gave up. If you didn’t fight just to try to have a better life.” Eddie stayed silent, watching your eyes grow soft. “And if you can get through all of that other shit, you sure as hell can quit smoking cigarettes.”

In that moment, Eddie couldn’t help but love you that much more. You were a challenger, a pusher. But it wasn’t unjustified and it wasn’t excessive. No, you were just a force to be reckoned with. When you knew something to be true, you hardly let up. Some called it stubbornness, but Eddie knew it to be determination.

Oh god, how he loved that about you. How you told him what to do and pushed him to do better.

And, oh god, did he have to try his hardest to stop getting a tiny bit hard thinking about it. This was not the time.

“Fine, I’ll keep trying.”

Your shoulders slumped, clearly exhausted from your argument. Leaned your head on his shoulder and heaved a sigh before stepping back.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll try. But don’t expect me to stop complaining about it.”

“As if I won’t. Hell, I’ll go first. Having an oral fixation sucks,” you admitted. 

Eddie’s eyes immediately went to your lips. And, Jesus, even all bitten up and cracked, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you. To call this argument to a close by throwing you up against a wall and devouring you until this bout of irritation dissipated from your bones.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You’re telling me.”

He could’ve sworn your eyes flickered to his, your own lips nearly quirking up into a smirk. And, fuck, did it seem like you were chest-to-chest, all sidled up and ready for the next fight.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked.

“Like what, Weirdo?” he deflected, unable to keep himself from leaning in just a little bit further.

You pressed a finger into his dimples. “Like that.”

What, like I want to kiss you silly and massage your cheeks and then kiss you again and take that gum out of your mouth and make it mine and be gross and stupid? Like I want to say I’m sorry by taking you in this kitchen right now? Like I’m going to lose my mind from how much I fucking love you?

Eddie took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Took a step back.

“I think I’m going crazy.”

“Come on,” you said with a smile. “Let’s go get Taco Bell.”

He smiled back, feeling the heat start to subside from his face. And, most importantly, his dick. 

“I could always use a Baja Blast.”

Things weren’t so bad after that first month. Or the second. Or the third.

And by the time you guys hit the six month mark, Eddie didn’t even crave it anymore. If anything, he couldn’t believe how much better his mood was. His chest felt lighter. Head clearer. 

For once, life felt good without a cigarette.

He noticed the same in you, how smiley you were at any given moment. No need to duck out to get a quick smoke in or beg for one after a crying spell. It was like a weight was lifted off of you. He couldn’t believe that such a small thing made up of tobacco, paper, and cotton could have such a big impact on, well, everything.

In the past, you were always looking forward to a cigarette. So, the two of you devised a plan. Every week or every other week, you and Eddie would go to Jailbait Hemp and try out a new product. Split the cost. Go find something to do. Just let loose and see where the day took you.

Today you were at Piedmont Park, passing a joint back and forth as people filtered in and out. You were lying on your backs, a blanket beneath your figures. Both barely able to see each other through the blinding sun because, predictably, no thought to grab your sunglasses. 

“We should try that THC syrup next Thursday,” you suggested.

Eddie turned his head, squinting back at you in the sun’s glare. Tried to see your pretty face the best he could. Sneaked another glance at how breathtaking you were in your sundress.

“Oh, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah, why not?”

Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

“Where do you wanna go to try it out?”

Summer lasted longer in the South. You’d have the Georgia heat to yourselves until mid-October. Eddie had no idea what you’d do until then. Drink, laugh. Play games, go to karaoke. Work.

Maybe things could change. Maybe he’d even get the courage to ask you out one of these days. It was funny what one could do with all of the money they once set aside for packs of cigarettes.

It was July and Eddie was in love. Had been for nearly four years. 

And some part of him knew as he watched you search the clouds that he’d continue to fall harder every single day. 

He knew exactly where to take you next week.

“No clue,” he lied, smiling to himself. “But it’ll be a damn good time.”