#storm oneshot

[awkward-walking-potato]

Could I get Storm, Magneto, and Nightcrawler with a reader who’s mutation isn’t for combat? It makes them feel weak compared to the others

Here are some headcanons for how Storm, Magneto, and Nightcrawler would react to an S/O whose mutation isn’t combat-oriented and who feels insecure or weak compared to the others:

Storm (Ororo Munroe)

1. Ororo would immediately recognize the importance of your mutation, regardless of its combat capabilities. She’s wise and empathetic, and she’d reassure you that every mutation has its place and purpose. She would remind you that her own powers, though formidable, have many uses beyond combat—like nurturing the earth or bringing rain to parched lands.

2.Storm would encourage you to explore the full potential of your abilities. She’d work with you to find ways your mutation could be used to benefit the team in non-combat scenarios, whether it’s healing, providing support, or something entirely unique. She’d help you see that strength isn’t just about fighting; it’s about contributing in meaningful ways.

3.Ororo is incredibly compassionate and would take time to listen to your feelings of inadequacy. She would share stories of times she felt out of place or unsure of her own powers, helping you understand that everyone, even the most powerful mutants, has moments of doubt.

4. Storm would ensure that the team recognizes and values your contributions. She might organize team exercises or missions where your specific skills are crucial, showing everyone—including yourself—how essential you are to their success.

5. Ororo has a deep appreciation for individuality. She would often compliment you on your unique abilities and encourage you to embrace what makes you different. She’d remind you that being unique is a strength in itself, not a weakness.

Magneto (Erik Lehnsherr)

1.Magneto has seen the wide range of mutant abilities and knows that not all of them are combat-oriented. He’d likely take a pragmatic approach, reminding you that every power has its utility and value. He’d encourage you to think strategically about how your mutation can be leveraged in different situations.

2. Erik would challenge you to rethink what it means to be “strong.” He’d point out that many of the most important and influential individuals in history didn’t rely on physical strength or combat prowess but on intellect, influence, or unique talents. He’d push you to see that your mutation might offer strengths others lack.

3.Magneto might take a personal interest in helping you develop your abilities. He’d offer guidance on how to maximize your potential, perhaps even suggesting ways to combine your mutation with other skills or technologies to increase its effectiveness in different contexts.

4. Erik is a big-picture thinker, and he’d help you see how your mutation fits into a larger context. Whether it’s through aiding in strategic planning, gathering intelligence, or supporting the team in ways that go beyond combat, he’d make it clear that every role is vital to the cause.

5. Magneto wouldn’t sugarcoat things; he’d be honest about the challenges you face. But his honesty would come with a strong message: you are part of something greater, and your value isn’t diminished because your abilities aren’t combat-related. He’d emphasize that everyone has a part to play and that your role is just as crucial as anyone else’s.

Nightcrawler (Kurt Wagner)

1. Kurt would be incredibly empathetic towards your feelings of insecurity. He understands what it’s like to feel different or less capable, and he’d be the first to reassure you that your worth isn’t determined by how well you can fight. He’d remind you that the X-Men are a team, and every team member’s contribution is important, no matter what form it takes.

2. Kurt would make a point to highlight the ways your mutation has helped the team, no matter how small or behind-the-scenes those contributions might seem. He’d constantly remind you that your abilities bring something special to the group, whether it’s in the form of support, creativity, or another non-combat strength.

3. Nightcrawler would gently encourage you to explore your powers further, finding new ways to use them that you might not have considered. He’d offer to help you experiment in a safe, supportive environment, emphasizing that your powers are valuable and that there’s no need to compare yourself to others.

4.Kurt is deeply compassionate, and he’d be your biggest cheerleader when you’re feeling down. He’d remind you that being kind, empathetic, and supportive are strengths in themselves, and that those qualities are just as important to the team as any combat ability.

5. Kurt might share his own experiences of feeling out of place or inadequate, using his faith and personal philosophy to help you see that everyone has a purpose. He’d remind you that your worth isn’t defined by others’ expectations but by your own unique gifts and how you choose to use them.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

What if instead of threatening to take Ford's eyes, Bill just took Fiddleford's?

Tate still remembered the night his father's sight was taken from him.

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

He felt the storm coming even before the first lightning struck. From the very moment he opened his eyes that morning until the very moment he lay back down to bed, he could feel a vicious tension brewing in the otherwise serene household.

Storms were very uncommon at Tate's house, and on the rare occasions they did arrive, they never stayed for long.

Yet, after a quiet breakfast full of anxious, unmet glances and clattering cutlery that rang far too loudly in the silence of the table, he knew that this storm was going to be unlike any other storm he'd witnessed before.

A prickling, disquieting static seemed to have made itself at home underneath his skin, that day. It had made every hair on his body stand on end, and an odd stinging sensation to dance across his spine and tongue; an uncomfortable urge to duck and take cover low on the ground nearly overwhelming his every sense. It was like waiting for the shattering thunderclap to sound after the sky turned white with a blinding flash of light. He knew what was coming, and the anticipation was unbearable.

His mother and father had acted as though nothing was wrong; as though they didn't feel the looming presence of the darkening clouds growing like a murky gray forest on the ceiling.

He hadn't been able to fathom at the time how adults could seem so all-knowing, and yet simultaneously be so utterly clueless about the very obvious happenings that surrounded them. Now, though, he just found it strange how adults often tend to assume children don't feel the stifling weight that they hung around themselves; as if children didn't breathe the same bitter choked air as their parents did. It wasn't even as though they did a very good job at pretending; his parents always were terrible liars.

When the lightning finally struck, it set the house ablaze.

He heard the thunder from his room, and felt the crackling heat crawl up the stairs and seep through the gap beneath his door. He'd laid in his bed, hand clasped nervously across his chest and looking up at his room's cloudy, weeping ceiling as a cacophonic explosion of noises came bursting from the living room downstairs. The fight had erupted with such unprecedented force that in Tate's young mind, he'd felt genuine fear of the house collapsing atop them all from the sheer force of the yelling.

The smell of burnt tongues gently wafted through the air, and Tate briefly wondered if it hurt his parents when they scorched their mouths with such scalding words just as much as it hurt for him to hear it.

It was a big fight; a terrible, big fight; so loud, and so very angry, and helpless, and desperate, and betrayed, and sad.

The back and forth screeching seemed endless, and eventually the screaming words began to muddle and merge into one another until they hardly even sounded human anymore. Suddenly there were animals wailing in the living room downstairs, and Tate could do nothing but listen helplessly and grip his interlocked fingers tighter; hoping that if he stayed still enough, then the growling beasts that were shattering plates downstairs wouldn't come upstairs.

But then,

then,

something changed.

The shift was all too sudden; too abrupt; too quick even for the usually sharp witted child to catch on, and before he knew it, the screams of anger suddenly shifted into one of pure, unadulterated horror.

"Fiddleford, your eyes- good lord, your eyes! Let me look at them!" "Don't touch me! I- I must call Stanford, he's done something to me. Him and that demon, they've cursed me." "For Heaven's sake! Please, forget about that damned Stanford of yours for one moment and listen to yourself! My husband's gone mad, mad!"

And suddenly his parents were human again.

Tate was restless in his bed as his heart seemed to beat bruises against his ribs, his sweaty fingers digging crescent shaped grooves into his skin as fear enclosed its frigid claws around his throat in a vice-like grip. He couldn't breathe.

The storm was over, and it should have reassured him, and yet he was anything but.

Curiosity and fear had been what forced him to kick the sheets off himself and creep his way down the rickety wooden steps. He had to know what happened, he had to know what damage the storm had caused, he had to know.

His steps were far from quiet, and the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet hardly did him any favors, but no one answered the calls of the squeaking wood. No one came peeking out from the living room to stop the obviously sneaking presence that was tip toeing through the halls; No one called out to check on their little child; all was silent, and calm, except for his mother's soft sobbing coming from the kitchen.

When Tate eventually found his father, he saw

devastation.

The storm had been merciless. It had left nothing behind but a shuddering husk of a man. His father was shaking like a leaf, shoulders tense and back hunched over as though bowed by an incredible burden. The telephone receiver was held in his hand like a lifeline; as if it was the only thing in the world that was keeping him tethered to sanity, and somehow, Tate didn't doubt that it was.

Curled up on the floor in the dark, muttering and trembling, he dared say his father looked... small.

It almost felt surreal to see his father in such a state, like witnessing a God collapse, or a star's light dim to nothingness. His father had always been a solid, permanent pillar sho seemed able to hold up the whole world on his shoulders, and still stand tall and proud despite the weight.

And yet, the crumbling remains of a once impermeable monolith now lay scattered across the hallway floor and splattered across the walls.

The sight had scared him.

At the time, Tate hadn't known what had happened. Even to this day, he still wasn't too sure he understood what exactly had taken place in that living room for his father to have so sudddenly gone from seeing to blind in the matter of seconds.

His mother had tried, in vain, to explain it to him later, to try and make him understand when he was eventually old enough to hear the gruesome tale; but still, he struggled to fully wrap his head around it.

"It was as though his eyes just sunk into his skull," his mother had recounted to him with a haunted look in her eyes. "They suddenly just vanished into the empty sockets of his face, like someone pulled them out from inside his head. There was no blood, no resistance, no tearing. It was as if his eyes were simply plucked out of sight by some invisible hand."

There had been blood on the walls when he had found father back then, a long trail of gorey wet red smeared all across the lovely yellow wallpaper. He realized only now, recalling the memory, that the blood back then had not been from his father's eyes, but from the deep gouges he had dug into his face with his nails, his searching fingers desperately looking for eyes that weren't there beneath his empty eyelids.

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

Tate had never heard his father's voice sound so raw, so afraid. It was so unlike the familiar comforting drawl he'd grown to love and recognize, it almost sounded alien, coming from his father.

"I can't see, Stanford, I can't- my eyes, they're gone. Why are they gone? What have you done?" "Answer me, damnit, what have you done?"

His father never got his answer, because whoever was on the other side of the line soon hung up, and his father was suddenly left blind and alone.

[fandomhopped]

first love/late spring

pairing: fwb!logan howlett x fem!reader; 2nd person pov

summary: logan and reader have been sleeping together for a while with an unspoken rule to keep it casual, but that goes to hell when logan catches feelings. however, reader is an independent boss bitch and hates men<3

warnings: heavy swearing, hella mentions of sexual situations, substance abuse, brief sexual content(nothing serious fr), creepy guy in a bar, blood, bar fight, mentions of sex trafficking and resulting trauma, daddy issues, fluff, angst asf, lowkey scott slander (i dont mean it i love him)

word count: 9.1k

a/n: reader has light manipulation abilities but theyre not mentioned that often lol, also reader takes a lotta shots at jean just cuz she pisses me off. side note: idk the true meaning of the song i used as the title, there are many different interpretations. i found the song after i had alr written the story and the lyrics resonated pls don’t jump down my throat if it doesn’t align <3

there’s not a millimeter of space between you and logan as he holds you against his body. you’re sleeping soundly, and he watches you breathe all night, not bothering to even think about sleep for himself. the sun came up three hours ago, he felt it on his back.

when you drink, you always wake up early the next morning. you two drank a lot together last night. and like every time you drink with logan, you ended up in his bed.

he tries to block the sun from your face with his body so it won’t wake you up. he knows when you finally do, this little illusion that you're his will all be over. everything you said last night won’t matter. you’ll go back to your room. he’ll stay in bed. you’ll both go back to acting like it never happened.

you always leave him swiftly. you always go downstairs and drink coffee from the same mug and act like nothing happened. without a stutter, it’s a routine.

since he moved into the mansion, he wasn’t ignorant to the fact that the female teachers were attractive. and, of course, he was first drawn to jean. he won’t deny that he still harbored some feelings for her when you came to his room all those months ago, but she made it abundantly clear that she loves scott.

then one night, you slipped a bottle of whiskey into the mansion and invited him to join you in drinking it. you said some things that made him sit closer to you. that was just the beginning. he woke up the next morning to an empty bed but distinctly remembers you falling asleep next to him, so he assumed you woke up and left.

logan is a pro at acting like some things never happen, but he wasn’t expecting you to act the same. he dismissed it as a one-off, drunken night.

then it happened again… and again and again, and you continued to act like it never happened.

which, he was fine with. this wouldn’t be the first time he’s had a with-benefits situation, but there’s something different about you. you’re badass. you’re beautiful. he really respects you. you fit him perfectly.

and you’re mean. you don’t smile all that much, really only when you’re drinking is what logan soon found out. you’re not always outright mean to people, it’s usually deserved. you don’t take anybody’s shit. you’ll let people know when they’re in the wrong or they’re pissing you off. you’re sarcastic and rudely witty.

that was just another thing that attracted him to you. but, God, were you the meanest in the mornings, especially when you’re hungover.

unfortunately for logan, he has developed a small, tiny, itty bitty, barely-there crush on you. just catching a scent of your perfume has him rolling his eyes in the back of his head and white-knuckling whatever is directly in front of him.

the thoughts of you under him, on top of him, in front of him, on your knees for him plague his mind all. day. long. then last night, you had him rock solid from just a few drunken words.

“you’ve ruined all men for me,” you said as he kissed down your neck.

“hmm?” he hummed as his hands roamed your body under your shirt.

“nobody could ever fuck me like you do,” you told him, pulling at his hair roughly. he lets out a deep groan at the feeling.

he’s never picked up his pace of getting someone’s clothes off so quickly. he ripped your favorite pair of pj shorts in the process, mumbling that he’ll buy you a new pair.

with him deeply inside you, one hand wrapped around your throat and the other sending you over the edge with his mouth leaving marks all over your chest, you say breathily, “fuck, you’re perfect for me.”

the moment hasn’t left his mind since.

“i’m hot,” you mutter, pushing the sheets from your legs. “you’re hot.”

“oh, yeah?” he whispers in your ear, his lips turned up.

“i’m about to have a heat stroke,” you return, squirming around and shoving his arms from around you.

he lets go of you and gives you some space, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. a deep sigh leaves him.

“i’m gonna throw up,” you tell him, groaning and curling up into the fetal position.

“are you serious? don’t puke in my bed,” he says, leaning up to look at you.

you roll your eyes. “no, i’m not serious,” you snap at him.

“‘you wanna take a shower?” he asks, his lip curling up at the thought of you ruining his sheets (and not in the way he usually prefers).

“i feel like shit right now, logan. i don’t want to fuck you in the shower,” you tell him roughly, sitting up and glaring over at him.

he watches you stand up out of his bed and put yout shirt on. “‘s not what i meant,” he grumbles, looking away from her. he throws the sheets off his body and grabs his jeans from the night before.

he runs his hands down his face and then looks up only to see the door closing behind you as you leave him. again.

“whew, late night?” ororo asks you as soon as you walk into the kitchen, changed into some presentable clothes rather than the ripped shorts and oversized tshirt you walked back to your room in.

you ignore the woman as you open the cabinet to grab your mug. the same one you use every morning.

but it’s not there.

“where’s my mug?” you ask, glancing around the kitchen to see it’s not just ororo but also jean and scott there.

“is this yours?” scott asks, holding up the mug in his hand.

your gaze darkens. “yes,” she grits out, tightening her jaw.

“that’s my bad. i didn’t know this was yours,” he says, standing up and walking over to the sink. “i’ll wash it and you can use it.”

you feel your skin crawl as he turns on the hot water. “stop,” you say lowly, walking to him and turning off the water. “you can’t—.” you stop yourself as you breathe heavily. you rip the cup from his hands.

“hey, it’s just a mug,” ororo says to you, “what’s up?”

“it’s not—,” you cut yourself off again and take a deep breath, shaking your head. you turn on the cold water from the sink and carefully wash the mug.

“seriously, what’s going on with you?” jean asks as scott rejoins her side.

you roll your neck. “i’ve been here for years, and you don’t know which one is my mug?” you ask scott, not looking anywhere but your mug until you’re sure it’s clean.

“i never noticed before, ‘sorry,” he says then turns to jean with a shrug.

the light beaming in through the window shines a little brighter as you continue to shake your head, muttering things under your breath that the others can’t make out.

“it really is just a mug,” ororo says carefully, looking over your figure in concern.

“except it’s not,” you retort, attentively drying off the ceramic with a towel. you then pour some coffee into the mug and hold it close to your chest, turning back to the other mutants.

“what—,” jean begins but logan walks into the kitchen just as she starts and she stops herself.

her surveys everyone’s demeanor then looks at you. “what’s wrong with you?” he asks, walking to the cabinet and grabbing whichever cup is closest to his hand when he reaches in. he pours himself some coffee and turns back to them expectantly.

“scott was using my mug,” you tell him, leaning against the counter.

“why?” he asks scott, eyeing the man.

“to drink coffee. why does it matter?” he asks in return, scoffing.

“it’s hers,” logan returns, his stare hardens and he looks at scott like he’s an idiot.

ororo laughs humorlessly. “what does that mean? it’s just a mug,” she asks, looking between you.

you glare at her. “it was my father’s and now it’s mine.”

“the same father that sold you?” jean asks, her face contorting. you shift your weight uncomfortably. “why would you want that?”

“why don’t you just back the fuck off, bitch?” you snap at her, stepping toward her.

“woah, girl, calm down,” ororo intervenes, holding her hand toward you like you’re a wild animal. you scoff. “we get it. it’s special to you. that’s all you had to say.”

you roll your eyes at them. you leave the group and return to your room. logan watches you go then turns back to the others with his eyebrows raised. “did you say sold her?” he asks jean.

“when he found out she was a mutant—,” she begins.

“jean,” ororo interrupts her, shaking her head at the girl.

jean continues, “—her father sold her into a mutant sex trafficking ring,” she reveals, looking only at logan, “that’s where we found her and then brought her here.”

his face contorts, and he looks down into his coffee. “shit,” he comments.

“she doesn’t talk about it to anybody, and, out of respect, we don’t talk about it either,” ororo says pointedly at the telepath.

logan is seething all day over the new information. he hates to think you went through that for God knows how long.

after the incident, logan doesn’t see you for a while. he doesn’t know how. you’re a teacher and you live down the hall from him, yet he still doesn’t even catch a whiff of your perfume.

“logan, meet me in my office,” he hears charles’ voice in his head. he obeys and within a minute, he’s standing before the professor. “you should leave her alone for a bit.”

her brow furrows. “come again?”

charles says your name and logan clenches his jaw. “she’s destructive right now. you should let her be.”

“is she okay?” the wolverine asks, concern growing in his stomach, and it makes him feel sick.

“she’ll be just fine. this happens from time to time,” he tells him, pressing his lips into a thin line. “you know of her circumstances.”

“her circumstances?” logan growls, scowling down at the old man, “you knew what she went through and didn’t think to tell me? you know what’s going on between us and didn’t think maybe i needed to know that? what if she had a breakdown when we were together? i wouldn’t have known what was happening.”

charles’ lips turn down into a small frown. “that’s not my information to tell.”

logan storms off in a huff, muttering under his breath.

that friday, he’s smoking a cigar in his bed, looking out the window at the moon, which is shining rather bright tonight. he hears a few quiet knocks on his door. he opens the door, expecting it to be a student.

“hey,” you say, waving a bottle of jack in his face before pushing past him into the room. “'hope you don’t mind, i got started without you.”

“you always do,” he comments, closing the door, putting out the cigar, and following you to sit on his bed. “listen —.”

“i think i like that vodka more than this. this one makes my mouth taste weird,” you tell him, taking another sip out of the bottle before handing it to him.

he holds it and sighs. “look, we should—.”

“—take our clothes off?” you finish his sentence, smiling darkly at him. “i mean, it’s a little early, but i agree.”

“that’s not what i—.”

“—was going to say?” you guess his words, cutting him off again. “look at us finishing each other’s…” you trail off, looking at him expectantly. he sends you a deadpanned glance. “this is the part where you say ‘sentences.’ i think i’m better at this game than you are.”

he takes a long sip from the bottle before he looks at you. “can you be serious for a second?” he asks.

you scoff and take the bottle from his hands. “i don’t come to you like this to be serious, logan,” you say, putting the whiskey to your lips again.

“why do you come to me at all?” he asks quietly and gruffly.

you take another sip and place the bottle on the floor, scooting closer to him. “because you’re hot,” you say in a sultry voice, putting a hand on his thigh and slowly dragging it up, “and you call me ‘princess’ and ‘darling’,” you continue, reaching for his belt buckle. he doesn’t do anything to stop you, “and your hands.” you push the buckle out the way and unbutton his pants, dragging down the zipper slowly. “and your tongue.” you reach your hand into his pants. “and this.”

he breathes heavily, completely lost in the euphoria that is you.

he forces himself to snap out of him and shakes his head. he pushes your hand away and stands up, taking a few steps away.

“what’s wrong?” you ask him, grabbing the bottle and standing also. “do you need some more?” you ask, holding the drink out for him, confusion written all over your face.

he holds his hands out in front of him as if to deny the offer. “it’s…,” he trails off, pushing a deep breath through his nose.

your shoulders drop along your face. you tilt your head in disbelief. “oh, my fuck. they told you,” you conclude. you turn around and sit back down on the bed. he stays silent, just looking at you. “okay, so what now? you don’t want me anymore ‘cause i’m used up?” you ask, slurring your words a little.

“no,” he denies without hesitation.

your sober personality is back even though you’re still drinking the whiskey like you’ve been in the dry desert for weeks without water.

“then what is it, logan? you don’t wanna do this ‘cause my hair isn’t blood red?” you ask next, raising your brow and looking at him expectantly.

his face contorts. “what’re you talking about?” he asks gruffly.

you chuckle at him. “i’m not a fucking idiot, old man. i know you want jean so bad, but she doesn’t want you so i'm second choice” you say, then you shrug with one shoulder. “i’d’a gone with ororo, to be honest. have you seen her? i’d show her a good time,” you add.

“that’s not what this is,” he tells you, taking a step forward but not within arm's length of you.

“then what is it? just fucking tell me,” you say loudly, the room lights up as the moon shines brighter. “d’you want me to tell you ‘bout how i was a good, little daddy’s girl until i almost blinded my brother when i first got my powers? how about how my dad gave me away like he didn’t love me? d’you want me to cry in your arms about how i was passed around by mean men like a blunt when i was 14? why do you think i can only let you fuck me when i’m drunk?” you ask him sarcastically, but your voice breaks on your last words. you let out an unsteady breath. logan watches you cautiously, unsure of what to do. “is that what you want, logan?! you wanna be the big, strong man here?!” you ask him, crying now as you yell at the man in front of you.

your body slumps forward as you let the tears drop from your eyes, and you grip the bottle in your hands like a lifeline. you feel the bed dip beside you and the bottle pulled from your hands. you move your hands to your face, trying to pull yourself together.

you feel his big arms envelope you and pull you into his chest. that’s when the waterworks really break out.

logan’s never been to best with tears. he hasn’t had to deal with them too much, but his first instinct was to hold you as close as you would let him. he hates to see you like this. in all honesty, he wants to hunt down every man that ever put a finger on you and rip them to shreds. but, for now, he’ll hold you. as long as you would let him.

you wake up with araging headache. you’re hot, burning up, actually. you kick the blankets from your legs and turn over in the arms of the incredibly attractive man in bed next to you. you look at his sleeping face and sigh.

this is the part where you leave, but this time, you just snuggle into his chest and fall back asleep.

logan wakes up later than he usually does after nights like the last one. it’s normally the sound of the door closing wakes him up. but, this time, he sees your cute face smushed against his pec. he doesn’t fight the smile on his face.

you stir quickly after he wakes up. you rub your eyes and look around the room, then to logan. “i’m gonna puke,” you tell him, the remnants of the smile fall from his face. you pull away from him as your face blanches. “seriously,” you add and sit up quickly.

he reaches for the trash can beside his bed and holds it in front of you just in time. he holds your hair back with a look of absolute disgust while you clutch the bin close to your face and your body jerks with each gag.

once you're done, you wipe your mouth with the bottom of your shirt. you groan loudly and stand up from the bed. “i’m gonna take this with me,” you tell him, holding the can in your arms and moving toward the door.

“keep it,” he remarks, his lip curled up.

monday morning rolls around quicker than anybody wants. you walk into the kitchen and grab your mug, pouring coffee and looking around at others in the kitchen.

they’re talking amongst themselves, mentions of grading papers and some stupid answer a kid put as their answer on an assignment.

you just listen and sip your coffee peacefully. that is, until logan walks in. you move from in front of the coffee pot for him to get some. he nods in thanks as he joins your side.

“this coffee is awful,” you comment, pouring it out in the sink next to you. he chuckles at your comment but doesn’t say anything. “scott, did you make the coffee this morning?” you ask him. the three look over to you, almost as if they didn’t see you come in.

“yeah,” he answers.

“don’t do it again,” you tell him, filling the mug with water and leaving the kitchen.

as you watch a group of students take a test, you see logan walk back in his jacket he usually only wears when leaving campus.

“hey,” you call out. all the students look up at you. “keep taking your tests. i’m going to the hallway for a second,” you tell them and move into the hallway. “logan,” you call and he turns around, walking back toward you. “where are you going?”

“to pick up some more cigars,” he answers, gesturing over his shoulder.

“will you pick me up a pack of cigarettes?” you ask him, reaching into your pocket for some money.

his brow furrows. “you smoke?” he asks.

“sometimes, yeah,” you reply, handing him $20.

he shakes his head. “i’ll cover it,” he answers.

“thanks,” you reply, placing a hand on his forearm before returning to your classroom.

he looks down to his arm and blinks. that’s new.

“brad, i know you’re not talking during a test. are you begging for a failing grade?” he hears you say before he turns back toward the front door of the mansion.

logan returns a while later, after the school day is over and the students are training. he finds you in your classroom, grading papers.

“hey,” he greets. you look up at him.

“hey,” you return, eyes dancing all over his body.

“these are for you,” he says, holding out the page of cigarettes.

“right, thanks,” you say and reach for them, your fingers brushing his as you grab them.

“‘you need any help?” he asks, looking at the papers before you.

“do you know anything about math?” you ask him, pursing your lips.

“uh, no,” he answers, shaking his head. “don’t you have an answer key or something?”

“i have to check their work to make sure they didn’t just get the answer from the person beside them,” you reply, looking back down to the papers. “some of these kids are dumbasses.”

he chuckles. “no kid wants to do math,” he comments.

“how would you know? weren’t you born before there were schools?” you ask him without looking up. there’s a beat of silence before you eventually glance up at him. “was that insensitive?” you ask instead.

he just shrugs. “i’m not that old,” he says, sitting in the desk in front of yours.

“sure,” you respond and go back to grading.

the two of you sit in without a word as you grade, and he watches you in complete admiration. after a while, he stands up and walks toward the door.

“you’re leaving?” you question.

“‘didn’t think you wanted your room smelling like cigars,” he replies.

“i’ll join you,” you say, grabbing the pack he bought you and putting the tests in a drawer. he doesn’t object and you two walk outside, to a bench in the gardens, away from the students.

the two of you sit in silence as you inhale smoke and slowly release it from your lungs.

“i’ve never seen you smoke before,” he comments after a while.

“i only smoke when i give up drinking, i only drink when i give up smoking,” you answer, tossing the burnt cigarette onto the ground and stepping on it, then picking another one from the pack.

you pick up your lighter and flick it a few times but it won’t light. you put your head and lighter inside your shirt to block the wind, trying again and failing again.

“motherfucker,” you mutter as you try to cover the lighter.

“here,” he offers his lighter with the fire shining brightly above it. with the cigarette between your lips, lean toward the lighter, looking up into his eyes as you do. he meets your eyes and clears his throat, closing the flame into the top of the lighter and shifting his eyes to the cigar between his fingers. you let a small smile rest on your face afterward.

“so you’re not drinking anymore?” he asks you.

“figured i should go on a sobriety cleanse for a bit,” you reply, “‘t’s probably for the best.”

“probably,” he adds and silence takes over again.

he glances over at her for a second and he sees you bite at the skin of your bottom lip the way you always do when you’re thinking, contemplating. he’s tempted to ask what’s on your mind but before he can break the silence, you let out a hard sigh.

“i don’t apologize for things,” you begin and pause, biting at your lip again.

“okay…?”

“i don’t apologize for my actions or words because i stand by every decision i make,” you continue and pause again. he’s looking at you and you’re looking directly ahead of you. “i’m not good at apologizing,” you sigh again, “but i’m…sorry for some of the things i said the other night. there’s no excuse. i apologize. take that how you will.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he replies.

you huff. “so i just said all that for nothing? you could at least accept the damn apology,” she snaps at him then rubs the crease between her eyebrows out.

“you called me an old man. i don’t know if i want to accept your apology,” he teases with a crooked smile. you send him a look that turns into a hint of a smile before turning your head away.

“i need to get back to grading those tests. i’ll see you later, logan.” you stomp out another cigarette and stand up from the bench.

“see ya, sweetheart,” he says lowly but you still hear it.

as you look over tests, ororo enters your classroom. “ooh, what’s got you all smiley?” she asks as she strolls in.

the previous smile you didn’t even realize you were wearing falls when you look up at the mutant. “huh?”

“don’t try to deny it. i saw that smile,” she says teasingly. you just roll your eyes lightheartedly. ororo’s brow furrows as she sniffs the air. “are you smoking again?”

“yeah, i quit drinking,” you answer, “what’s up?”

“i was coming in here to ask you if you wanted to go out with the rest of us friday night. we’re planning on going that bar we always go to,” she says, “but if you’re not drinking, i don’t wanna make you go.”

“yeah, no. that’s okay,” you decline the offer.

“alright, if you change your mind, you’re welcome to join us. sober or not,” she adds before leaving out.

the week drags on painfully slow. it’s a week of tests and starting new units in all your classes and you really just want to bang your head against a wall and tell the kids class is canceled.

by the end of it, you actually do want to join your colleagues in going out to that bar in town that they love so much. you offer to be the designated driver, not trusting anyone but yourself to drive you anywhere.

“are you going with us to the bar?” you ask logan as he rummages around the cabinets for something to eat.

“no,” he answers, opening the fridge, “are you?”

“yeah, i’m driving,” you tell him. there’s a beat of silence before you add, “you should come.”

he turns toward you at your words with a crooked smile. “oh yeah?” he questions, “why? ‘you want me there?”

you scoff with no heat behind it. “i was just trying to be nice,” you say.

“you? nice?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“what? you don’t think i’m nice?” you ask him defensively, crossing your arms.

“no,” he replies, not skipping a beat.

“i’m very nice,” you counter.

“no, you’re not,” he denies again, also crossing his arms.

in his white beater, crossing his arms makes his arms flex and you can’t help but let your eyes wander to the veins of his biceps.

“you have nice hair. there, nice,” you compliment, then add right after, “you’re not balding or anything, which is quite common for men your age.”

“you’re not good at this,” he tells you, looking at your plate to see what you're eating.

“do you want some?” you ask him. you hold your plate across the counter for him to pick off of. he grabs one of your chips and eats it.

“thanks,” he mutters.

“look at me being nice,” you comment and he chuckles deeply.

“shut up,” he returns playfully.

the five of you go to the bar that night, logan joining at your request. he sits at the bar, ordering drink after drink and scanning the bar every so often to make sure you’re alright.

you spend most of your time at ororo’s side. before long, you’re accompanied by a couple of men. you and ororo share side-eyes as they continue to tell stupid jokes. ororo excuses the both of you to go to the bathroom only to move next to logan at the bar.

“having fun?” he asks sarcastically, looking at you then glancing to ororo.

“they could’ve at least been funny, but they weren’t. there terribly unfunny,” you tell him, sitting next to him on a barstool and ororo laughs.

“yeah, that was awful,” she comments and sips her drink. “oh, i see jean and scott. i’ll be back later.” she leaves the two of you. you order a club soda and turn to logan, who is hunched over his drink.

“you have really bad posture,” you tell him as the bartender hands you your drink. he just shrugs and refills his glass with the bottle the bartender left in front of him. you dig your finger into his spine and he straightens up, looking at you wildly.

“why?” is all he asks.

“it’ll help you look more presentable. you’re not looking for anybody tonight?” you ask and glance around the bar for women.

“no, i’m not,” he answers and slumps back down. you dig your finger into his back again and he looks down at you. “stop,” he says seriously.

“oh, what’re you gonna do? stab me?” she asks him challengingly. he looks back down to his drink and shakes his head dismissively. “oh, come on. you’re good-looking, you’re good in bed, you’ve got this hot, animalistic thing going on. why not look for somebody?”

“‘cause i don’t want anybody,” he answers. “did you say i’m good in bed?”

“well, yeah,” you confirm with a one-shouldered shrug.

he stares at you for a beat. this is the first time you’ve ever mentioned it before. you don’t talk about the things you two have done. ever.

“i would know,” you add after he stays quiet.

“you would know what?” ororo asks as she rejoins you, along with scott and jean. they all stand directly behind the man, looking at you expectantly. logan’s waiting for you to make up a lie.

“that logan’s good in bed,” you answer, gesturing to the man next to you. his eyebrows raise and he looks directly in front of him, a smirk playing on his lips as he drinks down all of what’s left in his glass and refills it again. you surprise him more and more every day.

“he’s what?” ororo questions, shock written all over her.

you roll your eyes. “you don’t have to do the clueless bit. jean reads minds and i know she’s told you two,” you state, pointing between ororo and scott.

“what? i haven’t—i didn’t—,” jean stutters over her words, laughing through them.

“liar,” you clock it in a high-pitched tone, sipping your drink. “i’ve heard you talk about it before. i’m just surprised you haven’t mentioned it yet.”

the three of them exchange glances. “okay, yeah, we knew. we thought you would deny it anyway so we didn’t bring it up,” ororo admits.

logan stays silent, drinking like he’s been thirsting for days. why are you doing this? “so…you two are…,” scott trails off. you shrug as your answer. “hmm.”

“hey, sweetheart, you never came back,” the guy from early comes up behind you and wraps an around your shoulders. you tense up at the feeling.

you remove his hand from you. “don’t touch me, and don’t call me sweetheart,” you tell him. he laughs and looks at your colleagues.

“why not? looks like everybody’s got a matchup here but you. let me help you fix that,” he says and runs the knuckles of his finger across your collarbone. he points at scott and jean, then logan and ororo. “i can make you feel good,” he whispers in your ear.

“seriously, don’t touch me,” you tell him firmly, pushing his hand off your shoulder and shifting your seat away from him.

logan doesn’t watch the encounter but he’s squeezing the glass in his hand so hard it’s about to shatter. he feels the red-hot rage crawl up his neck as he does every time he encounters some asshole in a bar.

“don’t be like that, sweetheart,” the man continues and reaches for the strap over your shoulder. chills cover your arms and legs and a shiver runs down your spine. you grab his hand roughly and shove it away from you.

“touch me again and i’m gonna break your fucking nose,” you tell him.

“ooh, i got a feisty one,” he comments to the rest of your group, laughing. “i like that.”

scott takes a step forward. “you need to lay off, man,” he tells him, trying to keep this civil and contained.

the man only laughs harder. “what are you gonna do, glasses?” he asks him and slings his arm over your shoulders. “come on, baby, let’s get out of here. i got a real nice spot for you in my bed.”

“she already told you not to touch her, bub,” logan chimes in, still looking straight ahead and not sparing the boy a glance. there’s a tightness in his shoulders as he uses all his self control to stay in his seat.

“woah, tell your bodyguards to stand down,” he says to you but your only response is to rear back and deck him directly in the nose.

he stumbles back, holding his nose as blood drips into his hand. “you dumb bitch—,” he lunges toward you but logan whips around and grabs him by the front of his shirt, shoving him up against a wall.

“what’d you say?” the mutant asks him lowly, a growl deep in his throat.

“hey, take it outside!” the bartender yells at the man.

“why don’t we do that? you wanna take it outside?” logan asks the scared man in his grasp, shoving him harder into the wall.

“logan, let’s go,” ororo tells him as she walks with you toward the door. he doesn’t move. “logan!”

he drops his hold on the man and turns his back to him. he doesn’t even take a step before the dumbass says, “yeah, listen to your bitch.”

logan turns back around and absolutely socks him in the jaw. the man falls to the ground. logan walks after his friends, rolling his shoulders.

when logan gets out to the car, he sees you in the driver's seat, holding your hand closely to his body. he sits in the passenger seat and looks at you.

“are you okay?” he asks you carefully.

“did you kill him?” you ask him flatly without meeting his gaze, and he shakes his head. “you should’ve,” you say coldly and start the engine, driving out of the parking lot and back to the mansion as quickly as possible.

when you arrive, logan accompanies you to the lab for jean to look at your hand. he wasn’t going to say anything but watching you cradle your hand makes him change his mind. “are you alright?” he asks you.

“fine,” you reply sharply, clenching your jaw tightly. he watches you bite at your lip.

“speak your mind,” he tells you, just outside the hidden elevator. you just shake your head at him. “if you don’t, you’ll take it out on jean.”

“why can’t i just do that?” you ask lowly.

“‘cause she doesn’t deserve it,” he reasons.

you take a deep, frustrated breath. “what happened tonight was stupid,” you say, “dumb fucking men thinking they can get whatever they want whenever they want. now my hand might be broken because i couldn’t—,” you cut yourself off and take another deep breath to steady yourself. “i’m done talking about this,” you say and open the door to the hidden elevator.

he blocks your path. “no, you’re not,” he says and waits for you to continue. that’s when the dam really breaks and you last out at him.

“it’s stupid. all of this is fucking stupid. i could’ve handled myself back there. i didn’t need you to step up and be my big, strong savior,” you tell him angrily, voice rising.

“i know,” he returns.

you’re shouting now, “then why couldn’t you just let me do it? i could’ve stopped him. i’m stronger now. i know how to fight now. i don’t need anybody to save me. i can save myself. i don’t need you. i don’t need any of you.” your voice cracks as the anger starts to shift into the feelings you hate to feel. “i’m not gonna let anyone take advantage of me ever again. and i’ll break every bone in my body before i let some drunk narcissistic man ever put his hands on me again,” you say your peace and breathe heavily and unsteadily.

there’s a long pause, the weight of your words hanging between you. logan doesn’t interrupt, giving you the floor to get it all out.

“i know,” he repeats himself deeply, “but you shouldn't have to.”

you feel that familiar ache in the back of your throat as tears threaten to spill out. you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, pushing all the emotions back down. “my hand really hurts,” you tell him quietly, not trusting your voice. he puts his hand gently on your back and leads you into the elevator then into the lab.

by the time you’re in front of jean, you’ve pulled yourself together and let her examine your hand. you did break your hand. she wraps it up for you and sends you to your room with some pain meds.

logan doesn’t leave your side until you’re at your bedroom door. “i don’t want you to come inside,” you tell him quietly. he stays silent. “it’s just that you’ve never seen my room before and this is mostly where i use my abilities and it’s messy right now and—.”

“‘t’s fine,” he interrupts your rambling. “i don’t have to come inside.”

“right,” you mumble, hand gripping the doorknob. “good night.”

“‘night.” he doesn’t make his way to his room until you slip into yours, locking the door behind you.

the next mid-morning, logan walks into the kitchen to see jean scolding you like a child. he’s surprised you’re just sitting there and taking it without a word.

“i’m serious,” jean says, finishing her tongue lashing.

“i know,” you mumble before jean offers logan a soft ‘good morning’ as she leaves.

“what was that about?” he asks you, moving over to the table where you sit with paper spread in front of you.

“i need to grade these papers but my hand is broken and dr grey told me it would only cause more damage,” you explain, sighing heavily and holding the pen in your healthy hand.

“let me help,” he says, snatching the pen from your fingers and the paper from in front of you. the numbers on the sheet are all greek to him. he doesn’t know what the hell he’s looking at.

“you can’t,” you tell him, pulling the paper from his hands. “you don’t know how to do it.”

“then tell me,” he offers, moving his chair next to yours. “tell me what’s wrong and i’ll write it down.”

you shake your head a few times before giving in. “fine,” you cave and look over the student’s work. you place the page in front of the man and point a certain part of a problem. “okay, so he should’ve foil’d here but he didn’t so the rest of the work is wrong. put a line through it and write ‘foil’,” you instruct him and he follows your orders.

“like that?” he asks, showing you. you nod in approval.

“your handwriting actually isn’t that bad. i was expecting a lot worse,” you comment, leaning into him as you look over the next problem. “that one’s right, so put a check,” you tell him and he follows.

the process continues on. every time there’s a gap of silence as you examine the math that he would never even try to understand, he watches you in complete admiration. there are practically hearts in his eyes while the gears turn in your brain.

as the next few days progress, you and logan spend more time together than you ever have. whether he’s in your classroom during your free period or you watch whatever movie’s on tv together on the couch, if someone’s looking for logan, you’re right beside him and vice versa.

of course, the others have taken notice of it. it’s new and after you confirmed you had been sleeping together, they draw their own conclusions about the two of you.

“‘y’know what i would like to see?” you prompt logan as you watch a show with a lumberjack in it.

“what’s that, darlin’?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“you chop wood,” you tell him, looking up at him from your spot under his arm.

“chop wood?” he questions.

“yeah, like, axe, wood, outside, shirtless, sweaty, and muscly, chopping wood,” you tell him, “lumberjack style.”

“lumberj—.”

“with the cigar,” you add excitedly, cutting him off. “maybe add in a little dehydration too.”

“i think you’re drooling a little bit,” he tells you, pointing at your mouth as a lazy smile rests on his face.

“probably, that’s hot,” you tell him, looking back at the screen.

as the credits roll, logan looks down to see you sound asleep with your head resting on his chest. he carefully picks you up in his arms and carries you to your room.

he opens the door and pauses his movements, eyes dancing across your room. there are no personal touches on the walls or shelves. it looks exactly like his did when he first got to the mansion. well, except for one obvious difference.

your room looks completely dilapidated, like an abandoned home that the sun and time have destroyed. the dark color of the wooden floors and furniture has faded, every surface dry and brittle. in some parts, mostly near the window, the wood is completely bleached of its color.

he lays you in your bed and covers you up, taking in the room once more before he leaves.

“why don’t you have another name like everyone else?” he asks as you sit next to him on the bench where you now regularly take your smoke breaks on.

“like a last name? i do have one,” you answer, flicking the butt of your cigarette onto the pavement.

“scott has cyclops, marie’s got rogue,” he elaborates, glancing over at you. you’re sitting right beside him, his arm thrown over the back of the bench in a way that your head rests on it.

“i don’t know. i guess i never understood why i have to change my name just because i’m a mutant. i am who i am, human or mutant,” you answer, messing with a loose thread on your pants. “plus, seeing the way you made fun of the others when you first got here for their names—i’d never even try to think of one now,” you tell him, making him chuckle. you smile proudly at making him laugh. “you looked so cute when you first got here.”

“are you saying i’m not cute anymore?” he asks in mock offense, looking at you sideways.

“i mean, when i first saw you, you had that big jacket on and you were so clueless. a little less muscle too,” you recount, poking his toned stomach to which he curls to the side. your jaw drops. “are you ticklish?” you ask him, a smile growing on your face.

“no,” he replies sharply and gruffly, straightening his posture.

“oh, my fuck. you so are ticklish,” you accuse and dig your fingers into his ribs, attempting to tickle him.

a deep laugh leaves him, and he grabs your hand in his, his facial expression dropping quickly. “stop,” he tells you in warning. you just laugh in his face, reaching toward him with your other hand, cigarette still between your fingers. he grabs your other hand before you touch him, cigar between his fingers. “no,” he denies you.

you look toward the mansion and see the sun reflecting off a window. you bend the light so it’s shining directly in his eyes, almost burning them. he shuts his eyes tightly and brings one of his hands up to his face. as quickly as you can, you reach back into his side.

he quickly stands up and looks down at you. “enough,” he says and points a finger in your face.

you stand up also, but you’re shorter than him so he’s still looking down at you. you decide to stand on the bench, now a little taller than he is. you don’t say anything, just look down on him with a straight face.

logan can’t help the smile that breaks his scowl. “you’re an idiot,” he tells you, raising his eyebrows at you.

you mimic his gesture then flick the cigarette butt onto the ground. “you are cute, wolvie,” you say and ruffle his hair. “i get the whole towering over people know. this is a power trip for sure,” you comment.

“oh, really?” he questions and puts the cigar between his lips. he grabs you around your waist and throws you over his shoulder like you’re as light as a feather.

you let out a surprised squeal as he walks away from your bench with you in his hold. “put me down. bad boy, bad dog,” you chastise him hitting his lower back. he doesn’t listen so you just hang over his shoulder as he drags you into the mansion.

you grab his ass abruptly and he stops in his tracks. he places you on the floor and tilts his head as he looks into your eyes, taking the cigar from his mouth. “‘bad dog’?”

“yeah, wolverine,” you say, gesturing to him.

“a wolverine’s not a dog,” he tells you, smiling down at you.

your brow furrows. “yeah, it’s like a small wolf, right?” you wonder and feel like an idiot when he laughs at you.

“no,” he answers, shaking his head.

“liar,” you accuse.

he tells you, “go to the zoo. there’s some there.”

you look up at him in disbelief. “you’re fucking with me,” she states and he shakes his head in complete amusement. “if you’re lying to me, i’ll—.”

“what? try to blind me again?” he asks, cutting you off.

“maybe i will,” you challenge, crossing your arms.

he pauses for a moment, considering. “maybe i want you to,” he says and his tone drops, like, two octaves when he says it.

you’re suddenly aware of how close the two of you are, how his hands gripped your waist just a moment before, how effortlessly he carried you. the playful atmosphere shifts and you feel heat creep up your neck and across your cheeks. you don’t blush, especially not around him.

“logan,” is all you say softly. he notices the change in tone. he notices everything about you, every detail, every flaw, every perfection.

for a moment, neither of you speak. the air between you is charged. your eyes travel all over his face. he really is such an attractive guy. and when you peel back the tough guy layer, he’s a sweetheart.

“thanks for the ride,” you say lightly, trying to break the tension.

he nods, gaze still locked on you. “anytime,” he remarks, his voice rougher than it was a moment before.

you both stand there for a few more seconds, not really sure where to go from here. his eyes shift from yours to your lip as you chew on it. his jaw tightens and he looks away from you, taking a step back to give you some space.

your heart pounds against your chest unfamiliarly. everything about this feels so new to you.

“see you around, pup,” you say, your voice back to its teasing tone.

“yeah,” he adds, watching as you turn away and walk back toward the mansion.

more days pass and you spend more time with logan. he notices that you make fun of him more, teasing him for small stuff.

it’s only when he’s in the laundry room that ororo catches him alone. “hey, logan,” she greets. he mumbles something of the same. “so…you look pretty cozy with a certain mutant.”

“huh?”

“you know what i’m talking about,” she says, leaning against a washing machine.

“it’s nothing,” he tells her, starting the machine he threw his clothes into haphazardly.

“‘doesn’t look like nothing,” she returns.

“leave it alone,” he grumbles, turning to leave the room.

ororo steps in front of him, placing a hand on his chest. “please, don’t hurt her, logan,” she requests.

“she doesn’t want me the way you think,” he tells her.

“you can’t seriously believe that,” she says, looking back and forth between his eyes.

at that very moment, you turn the corner and your eyes widen. you ignore the sting in your chest as you let out a loud “woah.” ororo quickly turns around and takes a step away from logan. “i didn’t mean to interrupt,” you tell them with your hands up in surrender, but that was exactly your intention when you spoke up.

“you weren’t interrupting anything,” logan tells you, watching you move past him to grab a laundry basket.

“i’m not judging,” you reply, walking back to the door. you turn back last second and look at ororo. “hey, if he asks you to wear a red wig, say no,” you tell her with a wink before leaving.

“i never—,” logan cuts himself off, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. “i never did that,” he says to her.

“God, i hope not. what the hell,” she remarks, shoving his arm. “she was jealous. you need to go tell her nothing happened.” he sighs deeply and takes a step forward. “‘you really still think she doesn’t want you?”

he doesn’t reply and follows after you. you’re walking as quickly as you can up the stairs when he catches up to you. “hey,” he calls after you.

“don’t worry, buddy. secret’s safe with me,” you tell him, picking up your pace as you reach the top of the stairs but he keeps in step with you.

“there’s not a secret. we were just talking,” he says.

you place a hand on your bedroom doorknob. “really, you don’t have to defend yourself to me,” you say and open your door, slipping inside. before you can shut it, logan stops the door with his hand. you look at him through the crack in the door, pushing your lips into a thin line. “uhm…”

“there’s nothing going on between me and storm,” he tells you.

“i’m not gonna tell anybody,” you return, frustration rising in your tone. you push against the door but your strength is in no way comparable to his.

“i’m serious,” he tries again, almost pleading. “i don’t want her, i want—.”

“jean? look at that, finishing each other’s sentences again,” you cut him off with a false laugh.

“come on, darlin‘,” he says, tilting his head to the side.

you groan. “i just thought—,” you stop yourself, sighing. “it doesn’t matter what i thought.”

“it does matter,” he tells you, pushing the door a little wider. you move into the space between the doorway and the door, trying to block his view into the room. “tell me,” he encourages, getting closer to you.

“i thought you weren’t a whore,” you retort, giving him a hardened look.

“that’s not what you were gonna say,” he states lowly, looking deeply into your eyes. “what was it?” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting into the skin. he reaches his hand to your jaw, his thumb pulling the lip from between your teeth. “don’t do that. you know it drives me crazy.”

“i thought maybe you wanted me for more than sex,” you admit, feeling embarrassed as the words slip out. you clench your jaw, preparing for the rejection. a smirk slide onto his face and you drop your head. “okay, bye.”

you move back and push against the door again, but this time he pushes the door all the way open. your eyes widen as he takes a long stride toward you and pulls you back to him by the back of your neck. he presses his lips against yours feverishly to which you obviously reciprocate.

he pulls away and rests his forehead against yourself, breathing heavily. “i want you in every way possible, sweetheart,” he says.

you swallow thickly, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him away. “you don’t want me,” you tell him. he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back into him, your chest pushing against his.

“i do,” he counters.

“you don’t,” you respond.

there’s a beat of silence. “i do,” he says again. you just look up into his eyes. “i want you. i’m not the best person for you, i know that. i’m older and unhappy and i probably can’t be there for you emotionally,” he lists then shakes his head at you, looking at you like you make the world go round. “but i want you, i want every part of you—the good, the bad, the hot and sexy, and the rude and snappy. everything.”

you’re quiet. you don’t know what to say, what is there to even say? in your head, he’s always wanted jean and you were just a place filler. you’ve been under the impression that you caught feelings and he didn’t reciprocate them at all. maybe you’re wrong just this once.

“i want you too,” you tell him in a whisper. he watches your brow furrow as you look away from his eyes. his face falls. “but—.”

“no ‘but.’ don’t say ‘but’,” he begs, loosening his grip on your waist.

“logan, i can live with you not being there for me emotionally, but i don’t know if you can live with me not being for you sexually,” you tell him. dread takes over your body. this beautiful, morally grey, perfect-for-you man is in the palm of your hand and you’re letting him slip through your fingers.

her visible confusion deepens. “you’ve been perfect for the past few months,” he tells you, misinterpreting your words as insecurity.

you shake your head. “i meant it when i said i can’t fuck you sober,” you tell him slowly, avoiding his gaze completely. you feel his hands move from his loosened grip to a hover over your hips. you can’t read his mind like you usually can. logan wears his thoughts on his face, perfectly readable when he’s mad or happy or just his normal grumpy. but now, it’s like trying to read a book in a language you didn’t know existed. “i’m sorry,” you add when his silence becomes too much.

“i don’t care,” he tells you as soon as you finish the last syllable.

“you know i don’t apologize for shit and you don’t care that i’m sorry?” you ask him. you go to push him off again but he pulls you back in, this time wrapping his around your neck, smothering your face in his burly chest.

“i don’t care about sex,” he tells you as he rests his head atop yours. you return the embrace and hold him around his ribs. “i don’t care if you never touch me again. i love you.” your eyes widen and he feels your body tense up. he chuckles, pulling away and smiling at you. “too soon?”

“a little,” you tell him, nodding. you then smile back at him.

———

a/n: i haven’t written in a long time . pls don’t rip me up if u hate this🙏

[delicatebarness]

Werewolf!Bucky x Fairy!Reader fic idea.

Prologue Here

College AU - Set within a college from another realm for mythical creatures/monsters.

It is forbidden to love a creature who is not the same species. (But, they can form friendships.)

Our reader is a 5’ 3” earth healer fairy, younger sister to Johnny (a chaos fire fairy).

She is nicknamed ‘Tiny’ by Bucky.

Bucky is a 7’ werewolf, leader of his school wolf pack.

Tiny & Bucky take the same ‘Creature History’ class where they later end up being paired up for a project.

Let me know what you think 🤭

(I know I have many stories that need updating but I’m getting there, it’s difficult to stay focused on one particular story at a time when I’ve got literally hundreds of potential projects in my head.)

I’ve also added a little height comparison because why not 🤭

[twistersobsessed]

hiya! loved the scott x reader you posted:) i also have a little request for him, it's two ideas i combined together so please feel free to choose one or the other if you don't like them together! one was that reader likes to anonymously leave little presents for scott on his seat in the truck, just snacks or little trinkets from the convenience stores. especially if it's one of those little solar powered dancing figurines that you can mount on the dashboard. the other thought was that reader likes to make bracelets to relax before going to bed in various hotels. first it starts off just making them for the people that she regularly teamed with until she makes so many that she ends up making enough over time for all of them out on the road. when scott finally finds his bracelet on his truck seat he realizes who was leaving all the other presents:) thanks in advance!!

Of Trinkets, Treats, & Bracelets | Scott x Reader

Summary: You show Scott you like him in small ways. Scott shows you he likes you in a big way.

A/N: I love jealous Scott if you can’t tell.

Honestly, Scott had thought maybe it was Javi at first. The little gifts that would be left on his seat in the truck everytime Storm Par stopped at a gas station or truck stop. After all, he and Javi were pretty close, and Javi was a nice guy like that. But when he asked, Javi denied it with a smile. “Nah, that’s not me, man.” “So who?” Scott’s brow furrowed. Javi just smirked.

It was always either one of his favorite snacks, his favorite drinks, or one of those little solar powered figurines you put on the dash. Or his favorite, a pack of gum. He stopped trying to figure out where the gifts were coming from, because Javi sure wasn’t telling him.

It was a Tuesday, and Storm Par was stopped at a truck stop, glaring at Tyler and his crew who had just pulled in. Scott’s attention was stolen from their competition however by you, flouncing up to James, the Storm Par member you drove with most often.

“I made your bracelet,” you beam, outstretching your hand. James smiled and took the bracelet you were offering him. “Aw, thanks, (Name). Now we’re all matching.” “And Javi!” you exclaimed brightly.

You turned your attention to Javi and Scott. Javi held out his hand to accept the offering. “Thank you, (Name),” he grinned. “Yours is coming soon,” you promised Scott with bright eyes. Then you turned away, heading to the convenience store.

Scott watched you go, oblivious to Javi watching him. You bounced, that’s the thing about you, you didn’t walk you practically bounced, towards the store, when you were stopped by Tyler.

Scott’s jaw clenched.

He couldn’t hear what Tyler was saying to you from the distance he was at, but he watched you smile and greet the hillbilly warmly.

“You’re glaring holes into their heads,” Javi commented, and Scott’s attention was torn away. “What? No. Shut up.” He scowled. Javi chuckled. “Whatever you say, man.”

Scott turned back just in time to watch you wave goodbye to Tyler with a grin on your face. He rolled his eyes and turned back to Javi to talk about their plan for the day.

Ten minutes later, it was time to head out, and when Scott opened the passenger side door, Javi was driving, there was a pack of gum and a coke on his seat.

That night, you were curled up in your bed in the motel Storm Par was staying at. You were working on Scott’s bracelet, as you’d promised him. Everyone in Storm Par had a bracelet (Scott had noticed earlier), and Scott’s was the last one. You wanted to take your time with it; Scott was your favorite.

You made it blue, his favorite color. You added the final touches before snuggling into bed, giddy to give it to him tomorrow.

The next day came and you didn’t have a single opportunity to see Scott. He wasn’t at breakfast, and as you usually (unfortunately) were, you weren’t in the same truck today. So when Storm Par stopped at a gas station, you did with the bracelet what you did with everything else you got Scott: left it on his seat.

Scott was in a bad mood today. No particular reason why, he’d just woken up on the wrong side of the motel bed. Javi was avoiding him; Scott didn’t blame him, his bad moods were infamous. Despite getting out of the truck to use the bathroom, Scott didn’t feel like standing outside and socializing, so he went to get back in the truck when he was done.

He stopped in his tracks when he opened the door. On his seat was a bracelet, matching the ones the other Storm Par members wore. The bracelet you’d promised him.

Suddenly, everything clicked. It was you, who always left him his favorite snacks, his favorite gum, his favorite drinks, stupid little tchotchkes. He picked up the bracelet, turning it over in his hand.

His cheeks warmed.

“Hey!” Your cheerful voice suddenly behind him almost made him jump. He turned to face you, face neutrally blank. Your eyes fell to the bracelet he was holding. “I see you got my gift.”

“I did,” Scott confirmed. “And I suppose it’s you who’s been leaving me all the snacks and gum and stuff.” You blushed. “Yeah, I hope that’s not weird or anything.”

“No, it’s…” Scott swallowed. “Sweet.”

You smiled bashfully. “Not creepy?” you joked. Scott shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Well, maybe it’s a little creepy that you know all my favorites.”

You turned your nose up. “I’m observant,” you smirked.

Scott looked like he wanted to say more and you waited, but he was cut off by someone shouting your name. You looked over your shoulder and he looked over you to see… Tyler. He frowned.

“Well, I hope you like the bracelet.” You turned back to him. “I made it with lots of love. We leaving in five?” Scott nodded wordlessly, his eyes tracking you as you ran over to Tyler.

“So you figured it out,” Javi smirked, coming up beside Scott. Scott chomped on his gum. “That she’s the one who’s been leaving me stuff?” Javi caught Scott fiddling with his bracelet. He let out a whistle. “Oh she likes you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean all of our bracelets are matching to a degree but they’re each personally customized. Your bracelet is like an exact match to hers. How cute.”

Scott hadn’t even noticed. “Doesn’t mean anything,” he mumbled.

Javi rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Scott. She knows your favorite snacks and drinks, hell, she knows your favorite gum. She goes out of her way to get something for you every time we stop. She doesn’t do that for anyone else, not even me. She made you matching bracelets.”

Scott was glaring daggers at Tyler as he pulled you into a hug. Javi followed his gaze. “She likes you, man. Go do something about it.”

Before Scott could stop himself, he found himself marching over to you and Tyler, fist clenched. “Well howdy, Clipboard,” Tyler greeted, noticing Scott before you did. You turned around, smiling when you saw him. “Scott–”

You were abruptly cut off when Scott stopped in front of you, leaned down, and pressed his lips to yours roughly. Immediately forgetting you had an audience, you melted into the kiss, closing your eyes and resting your hands on Scott’s chest, gripping the material of his shirt.

Scott pulled back after a moment, leaving you stunned. He rested his hand on your waist, pulling you into his side. He squared up to Tyler. “Back off, Owens.”

Tyler grinned, eyes shifting from Scott’s scowl to your shocked face. He raised his hands in surrender and walked away, still with that shit-eating grin.

Scott led you back to Storm Par.

“Well that’s one way to do it,” Javi smirked.

[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

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒊 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆…

part 4 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - you finally made your decision.

warning - angst, swearing, mentions of cheating, attempt at gaslighting, betrayal, disappointment.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 5

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You had woken up the next day, and you just laid there. You couldn’t move, your entire being ached, you were exhausted both physically, emotionally, and mentally. You had never felt this exhausted in your whole life, you never felt this broken and stuck. 

You knew you had to choose. The weight on your shoulders was bringing you down and you didn’t know if you could go on any longer without making a choice, a decision that could change your life forever. 

You could either pretend and live on in an obvious one–sided marriage while your husband continues to sleep around with your EX–best friend and any other woman he has on the side OR you could confront him and leave, making him sign the divorce papers that you would have to get a lawyer for the moment you left. But it would mean you would have to start all over again. 

You flip onto your back and stare up at the ceiling, the memories from last night flash through your mind again, your husband and ex–best friend fucking each other in the bathroom, them fucking while you “slept”. You don’t think you could do this again nor could you pretend that everything was okay. You could hear them from the lounge room, their voices the only thing filling the quiet home. They sounded happy as they bantered and teased each other. 

You slowly slide to the edge of the bed and sit up. Your eyes connect in the mirror, and you finally look at yourself. You didn’t recognise the woman staring back at you, she seemed so lifeless, so broken. Where had the old you gone? Was she still there? You could see the sadness and rage swirling beneath your eyes, followed by bags and dried tears underneath. 

You were so sick of crying. When did you become so weak over a man?

Everything seemed to click when those beautiful blue eyes appeared in your mind. You could finally feel yourself think more clearly, you finally knew your decision. You weren’t making your decision because of those eyes, but they seemed to help clarify what you wanted. You could feel your soul tugging as the unknown man appeared in your thoughts. 

With one last look at yourself and a deep breath later, you turned. Ready. 

And finally, you chose yourself. 

“You got this.” You say and you will forever say it even with tears in your eyes. You move swiftly around the room, grabbing a suitcase from your cupboard and laying it down on the bed. You begin to pack, folding your clothes neatly before you place them in. You move onto shoes, accessories, makeup, perfume, and anything else that was yours. Once you zipped up your suitcase, you looked around the room. Your eyes caught in the mirror, and you finally felt freer. 

You grabbed your suitcase and spare outfit and left the bedroom. Resting the suitcase against the front door, you head into the spare bathroom as your other had been tainted with your husband’s infidelity and your ex–best friend’s betrayal. 

You had taken your time in the shower, washing the pain and sadness from your body. You even took your time making yourself look good, wanting him to regret his choices the moment you left him. With a final look in the mirror, you head out of the bathroom and into the lounge room. Your soon–to–be ex–husband and ex–best friend sitting too close for comfort, the sadness and anger that had been bubbling over had slowly disappeared as a blanket of numbness covered you. You could finally focus without your emotions getting in the way. 

“Somehow, I expected that this would happen eventually.” Your voice fills the room and the two on the couch jump apart, eyes wide as their heads whip towards you. You stare blankly, your heart still hurts but it was good. It was reminding you of what they had done. It was true, the old you had expected this would happen, but you were so caught up in thinking he loved you that you were blinded by him and his lies. “Given your history, I should have known better.” 

Johnny chuckles nervously, looking between you and Sarah. He wasn’t expecting this, but maybe he could lie and get out of it. Make you think it’s all in your head. “Babe, what are you talking about? I haven’t done anything!” He had to be careful, you hadn’t said what it was and if he wanted to lie, he couldn’t give anything away by saying the wrong thing. 

“So, you didn’t cheat on me?” You decided to play dumb. You remembered who you were, and the game changed. You wouldn’t let anyone make you forget again. 

Johnny scoffs. “Of course not, Babe! I love you! We’re just friends.” It was at that moment that he knew he fucked up.

“Just friends, huh?” You laugh. “Well, just friends don’t practically sit on top of each other especially when one is married, just friends don’t flirt with one another in a not so platonic way. Just friends don’t fuck each other in the bathroom while one friends wife is showering, just friends don’t slip out of bed when they think their wife is sleeping to fuck their friend in the other room. I’ve never had any friends like that, Johnny.” Your glare sharpens as you spit his name out with venom. 

His mouth opens and closes, and Sarah’s eyes widen. “How did you find out?” 

“You fucked her in OUR house! How do you think I found out?!” Your anger began to push against the numbness, wanting to be unleashed “I also remember everything. Every time you’d leave, look at another woman only for you and her to disappear a few minutes later, how you’d always be on your phone, OUR wedding.” You watched as they paled at the last part. 

“Babe! It was never supposed to get this far! Trust me, I’m so sorry!” He gets up and moves closer to you. Hurt flashes through his eyes when you back away from him, the thought of him touching you again disgusted you. 

“Get away from me! You’re not sorry, you’re just sorry you got caught! So don’t lie to me! I can’t believe I trusted you.” You could feel it, the blanket of numbness was slowly slipping away, and the tears returned, but they didn’t fall like before. 

“Did you ever really love me...?” Your gaze shifted, your ex–best friend didn’t even look guilty, it was like a weight lifted off her shoulders. What did you ever do to her? “Do you love her?” 

“Yes, I love you! I don’t love her, please believe me. It was just sex! She means nothing to me.” You could see the lie in his eyes, you wondered when he fell in love with her. You wondered if any of it was real. You wondered if his soul tugged the same way yours did when you bumped into that man, but if it did. Why didn’t he just leave? Why did they have to hurt you so bad? Why did they have to break you? 

You shake your head. “I don’t believe you.” You swallow down the lump in your throat. “You made a promise. The same day you made that promise you had your dick in someone else. Tell me, was any part of this at least real?” You stared into his eyes, watching him think. You sighed, “Do you have any regrets doing this to me?” A part of you needed to know.

Instead of answering your question, he responded with. “Do we really have to end it all?” Your eyes ached from the weight of unshed tears. He was your home, did he not understand? But, you weren’t his and it was time for you to go.

With a heavy sigh, you ignore his question like he did yours and pull off your wedding and engagement ring. “I loved you in this lifetime… I won’t make that mistake in the next.” With shaky hands you push the rings into his chest, letting go of them as his hand comes up. Hoping to catch yours, but instead he only catches the rings. “Goodbye, Johnny. I guess our story ends here…” You walk out of the room and towards the door, grabbing your things. This was it…

Maybe she was his happy ending. Hopefully you could find yours.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[intrepidacious]

hi bestie 😖 can i ask for some post shower comfort with steve?

after the storm

pairing: steve rogers x f!reader

word count: 407

warnings: complete fluff; implied hurt/comfort. please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: we all deserve a steve like this after this week tbh

—

The door creaks open after a very long time, and Steve looks up from the book he hasn’t been reading.

You emerge from the bathroom in a steam cloud of body lotion and hair oil, wrapped in your comfiest bathrobe. You still look a little drowsy, but not as completely miserable as you did when you got home. The worried crease in his brow eases a little as he takes you in.

"How’re you feeling, honey?"

You make a miserable sound, shuffling towards him and flopping down on the bed with a heaving sigh. Steve gently pokes your side and you wrinkle your nose.

"Today was no good," you declare, pressing the palms of your hands against your eyes.

Steve scoots down to lie on his side next to you, pushing up on one elbow. For a minute or two, he just lets you settle into the silence, waiting until your shoulders release some of the tension you’ve been carrying around all day.

After a while, you stir a little, moving closer towards him until your head rests on his shoulder, breathing him in. He puts his other arm around you to hold you there, feeling your heartbeat against his own.

"You smell nice," he murmurs, and you huff a tired laugh.

"Thanks." A little sniffle. "It’s that ridiculously expensive moisturizer Nat got me for my birthday."

"Worth every penny." He rubs his thumb against your spine and you let out another sigh, this one blessedly less bone-heavy. "Do you need anything?"

"Just stay right there," you mumble, snuggling closer still.

"I can order us dinner if you want," he suggests, holding you right there. "Get a couple of snacks while we wait, make some tea. We can watch that show you keep telling me ab—"

Your lips find his, once, twice, softly lingering, another thank you left sweetly unsaid. "You’re incredible," you whisper, not moving an inch away from his surprised smile. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Just trying to match you," he replies, rubbing his nose against yours.

"I don’t know about that," you say with a nervous chuckle.

"I do," Steve says. "You got through today. That’s pretty incredible."

He kisses you again until a little more of your weariness melts away, leaving gentle exhaustion in its wake. Maybe this day was pretty awful overall, but he’d do his damn best to take your mind off it at least for a little while.

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Storm & Blaze

(1-1)

Short story # 22

Gifs NOT mine.

Summary - You were once friends with Reed, and when he calls asking for some assistance on a project, you're happy to offer him a helping hand. But the moment you enter the lab, Johnny finds himself completely smitten. And when he learns who and what you are, he truly believes you're the one for him.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW

Reading time (roughly) - 10 minutes

Johnny is OOC af but what do you expect?

"Wait so why can't you finish this project?" Johnny asked for the fifth time in the past hour. Ben groaned in annoyance. "I told you, an old friend of mine has the final piece to this project." Reed explained, growing impatient waiting for his old companion. "What do you mean they have the final piece?" Johnny pried, confused as to why someone Reed hadn't spoke to in years, would have something so important to him. "Look you're just going to have to-" But Reed was cut off when the lab doors swung open, a woman dressed in a black leather jacket, with a large chain wrapped diagonally across her torso, skin tight skinny jeans, and killer combat boots, strutted in as if she owned the place. "You're finally here." Reed breathed a sigh of relief, while the others were stunned into a silence. "Sorry about that, ran into some trouble on my way over." She said with a cunning grin, her voice making Johnny's heart jump in his chest. "Everything okay?" Reed asked as he met her halfway across the large lab. "Nothing I couldn't handle." She shrugged casually, her eyes practically glowing as she looked at the others.

"Oh right." Reed chuckled before turning to his friends, ushering (Y/n) over to them silently. "Guys this is my old friend (Y/n) Blaze." Reed introduced her to them, Susan approaching her first. "It's great to finally meet you, I'm Susan Storm." She smiled brightly at (Y/n), who shook her hand with a kind grin. "This is my brother-" She turned to introduce her brother, only for him to practically shove his way passed her. "Johnny Storm." He stuck his hand out with a charming smile, his skin feeling hot when she shook his hand. "Ben Grimm." The largest of the group introduced, offering his hand for a moment, then pulling away thinking better on it. "Well it's a pleasure to meet you all." (Y/n) hummed with an amused grin, her attention turning to Reed when he grasped her elbow. "I'm really glad you came." He said, silently leading her to the equipment he was working on. "Let's get to it." (Y/n) mused, sensing his eagerness to get on with it. "It's right over here. I probably should have waiting before installing it, but the rod is just through here." Reed pointed to the small gap in the side of the machine. (Y/n) peered inside, her eyes landing on a rod that glew a dull shade of purple. "What do you need me to do?" She asked as she observed the rest of the mechanism.

"Essentially I need you to give it a jump start... You know... With your ability." He murmured the last part, feeling a little guilty for dragging her all the way out here for something that seemed a little trivial. "What's it for?" She asked as she faced her old friend, ignoring the eyes that practically burned into the side of her head. "It's a machine that will contain Johnny's powers, in case he looses control, or just needs to let off some steam." Reed winced at the pun, clearing his throat. "What's his power exactly?" (Y/n) asked curiously, and before Reed had a chance to explain, Johnny appeared at her side. "I can control fire." He said with a charming smile, allowing his hand and forearm to burst into flames. "That's ironic." (Y/n) chuckled as she smiled at Reed, who found her words equally amusing. Though Johnny, Susan, and Ben were a bit confused. "Alright back up, don't know how this will go." (Y/n) said as she turned her attention back to the machine. Reed and Johnny took her advice, and stepped several feet away. "You ever tell them about me?" She asked as she glanced back at her old friend, who looked a bit bashful. "No I didn't." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little bad, despite the fact that they hadn't been close in years. "Okay. Well no matter what happens, don't touch me." (Y/n) said as she looked to the others, who seemed confused though they still nodded their heads in agreement.

Content with that, (Y/n) turned back to the machine, reaching her arm deep into the gap, until her fingers wrapped around the rod. Susan wanted to protest, knowing it wasn't safe for anyone to touch the rod with their bare hands, but Reed stopped her, placing a comforting hand onto her shoulder. (Y/n) shuddered at the electrifying sensation that burned up her arm. "Fuck." She breathed out softly, tapping just barely into her power. Her eyes glew brightly as the rod began blazing with life, a horrifying screeching sound echoed throughout the lab. Everyone but (Y/n) clutched their ears, hissing in pain. (Y/n) grunted a gutteral primal sound, her skin burning and turning a bright shade of red. "Let go!" Reed hollered, knowing it had done the trick, and if she kept at it, she might actually bring the machine to life. (Y/n) hissed as she released the now bright glowing rod, pulling her arm out to inspect the damage. Susan gasped at the sight of (Y/n)'s fingers, which had turned a deep shade of black. The woman seemed unconcerned about the development however, wiggling her fingers to make sure they still worked before letting her arm fall back to her side.

"You did it!" Reed gushed as he rushed around the machine to run a few tests. "Glad to help." (Y/n) hummed, her skin slowly cooling, and fading back to its natural tone. "What the fuck?" Johnny breathed out in utter surprise, having been watching her closer than anyone else. (Y/n) glanced his way, and shot him a casual wink. "How did you do that?" Susan asked in astonishment, approaching the machine she had thought would be a lost cause. "He really didn't tell you guys anything about me huh." (Y/n) said with a chuckle, shaking her head a little with a grin. "He never even told us your name." Ben stated gruffly. "Sounds about right." (Y/n) said with an amused roll of her eyes. "Are any of you familiar with the name Johnny Blaze?" She asked as she moved to lean against a large metal table. "Wasn't he that stunt motorcyclist?" Ben asked, to which (Y/n) nodded in agreement. "And my father." She added, the news making Johnny wince inwardly, knowing he shared the same first name as her father. "Didn't he like go awol and disappear years ago?" Ben asked, and (Y/n) clicked her tongue. "Something like that I suppose. Anyways the point is he made a mistake when he was younger, a futile attempt to save his dad. He sold his soul to a demon by the name of Mephisto." She could see the skeptical looks in each of their eyes, something she was used to.

"Anyways it changed him, he was unknowingly bonded with another demon by the name of Zarathos. It's where his power comes from." She thought for a moment before correcting herself. "Came from." She shrugged casually, and while they seemed to find her story odd, they listened intently. "And well when I was a teenager I made the exact same mistake as my father. In exchange for annulling my father's contract, I would take his place, and take up the mantle of Ghost Rider." She licked her lips, pushing off of the table. "I sold my soul, and became a spirit of vengeance." She said as she held her hands out at her sides. Reed had come back around the machine just in time to see her burst into flames, her skin muscle and tissue melting away in an instant, leaving her a skeleton, her clothes unaffected by the flames. The laugh that rumbled in her hollow chest, sounded like the devil himself. Susan had jumped back in surprise, Ben watched with curiosity, And it took everything in Johnny not to tackle her in a hug. Feeling as if he'd found the other half of his soul, his eyes sparkled with astonishment, hypnotized by the flames that lapped at where her skin had been.

Without really thinking Johnny strode towards her, feeling the intense heat of her flames with every step. "Flame on." He muttered as he neared her, ruining his clothes that burned away the instant his body engulfed in flames. (Y/n) observed him with a small tilt of her head, her bony hand reaching out to touch his chest. Another laugh rumbled from her, sounding sinister and dangerous. "(Y/n)." Reed called out to her, afraid she might try using her Penance Stare on Johnny. She looked at Reed for a moment, then back to Johnny, who couldn't tare his eyes away from her. "Johnny what are you doing?" Susan hissed at her brother, who ignored her, as he placed his hands onto (Y/n)'s waist, surprised to find that she didn't feel like a skeleton, but a whole person. (Y/n) in turn wrapped her arms around his neck, anticipating what he might do next. "Don't so anything stupid!" Susan hissed at her brother. Who tightened his grip, and pulled (Y/n) flush against his chest, her clothes still unaffected by the added heat, he suddenly flew them out of the tower. The demonic sound of her laughter made something buzz in Johnny's chest, as he flew them far from New York, and high into the great rocky mountains.

When he landed, they simultaneously extinguished their flames. Leaving Johnny standing there as naked as the day he was born, and (Y/n) looking human once more. "Couldn't keep your hands to yourself huh?" She asked with a teasing grin, still standing chest to chest with him. "Not really." He admitted with a smirk, observing the fine details of her face. "I feel like I'm being pulled towards you, like I'm meant to hold you in my arms." Johnny admitted, more sincere about his admission, than anything else in his life. "I just told you I sold my soul to a demon, and that I am bonded with another demon. And you're infatuated." (Y/n) chuckled with a grin, humming in her throat when Johnny nodded his head in agreement. "You might just be the strangest man I've ever met." She added in a playful tone. "But you like strange don't you?" Johnny asked, slowly inching his face closer to (Y/n)'s. "What makes you so sure?" She taunted, despite finding herself leaning in as well. "We were made for eachother." Johnny stated confidently, finally closing the gap between them. Fire ignited at their feet, and made its way further up their legs, stopping just at their chests as they deepened the kiss.

[captainsophiestark]

Epiphany

Javi Rivera x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: Twisters

Day Two Prompt: "It's been a long time."

Summary: Javi's job bring him back into the same town as a sort-of-ex, but if he wants a chance at rekindling anything, he's going to have to answer for his decision to work for Riggs.

Word Count: 3,189

Category: Angst, Fluff

A/N: Happy spooky season everyone!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I grinned as I lined up my shot on the dartboard ahead of me, ignoring the heckling of my friends and a few new competitors we'd met at the bar. I was the undefeated champ at darts, both tonight and in general, and I hadn't gotten here by letting people get in my head.

I let out a breath, completely focused on the center ring, and sent the dart flying in one smooth motion.

Bullseye. As planned.

I turned to my friends with a grin, enjoying their chorus of groans. While I wasn't completely undefeated for all time, I was undefeated tonight, and I was frankly having the time of my life.

"Okay, there's got to be somebody in this bar who can beat you," teased one of my friends, throwing an arm over my shoulder and turning to scan the rest of the patrons who hadn't been roped into our competition yet.

"I bet I could give it a shot."

I turned at the sound of the voice to see a man I hadn't seen in years.

Javi Rivera and I had met while we were both studying at Muskogee State College almost six years ago. We'd hit it off, going quickly from friends to dating, and after only a couple months, I'd started to be able to see a future with him. And then, three of his friends died in a tornado while they were trying to test their PhD project and secure grant funding.

I'd done my best to be there for Javi, but we'd pretty quickly realized he needed some space--from chasing, from school, from Oklahoma. From everything. Including me.

It sucked to say goodbye to someone I loved, but at the same time, I got it. We'd parted on pretty good terms, deciding for both our hearts it would be best for the break to be clean. I'd thought about him a thousand times since then, clean break or no, but I hadn't seen him once. Now, he was standing before me in the dive bar just outside my hometown, apparently challenging me to darts.

"...Javi?" I managed, a smile tugging at my face despite the shock and disbelief. He grinned back at me, holding his arms out but not making any move to close the distance.

"Hey. It's good to see you."

I grinned, quickly closing the rest of the space between us to wrap Javi in a hug.

"It's good to see you too! What are you doing here? ...How are you doing?"

He stepped back with a smaller smile on his own face, running a hand through his hair before he met my eyes again.

"Better. A lot better than the last time you saw me, actually. I'm working with a team that's researching tornados, trying to get better data to better understand them and hopefully make everybody safer as a result. My team's just passing through the area on our way to chase a some big cells developing further West, and we're staying in town for the night. I was really hoping I'd find you here."

"You know, I do have a phone. And I haven't changed my number."

He grinned. "That was going to be Plan C, if Plan A of finding you here and Plan B of finding you at another bar didn't work out."

I just shook my head and laughed.

"You know, there's a lot I could say about that, but I think instead I'm gonna settle for kicking your ass in darts."

"Oh, bring it on. I was watching you, I think you've lost your edge since the last time I saw you. And I can tell you right now, I haven't. I've only gotten better."

"Sure you have, Rivera. Come on, put your money where your mouth is. You start us off."

"If you insist."

Javi leaned in close, hitting me with a charming smile as he took his half of the darts out of my hand, taking his time and letting his fingers linger over mine. For a split second, it was like I was back in grad school again, spending weekends blowing off steam and occasionally working on our project from the back table of a bar. Then, he pulled back, turning his attention to the dartboard again.

"Loser buys drinks," he called as he drew his arm back, then let the dart fly. He hit an 18, but not on any of the score-multiplying rings. I grinned.

"You're on."

****************

Javi and I spent most of the rest of the night together, trading blows in darts and just catching up with each other again. To my delight, it had been like no time had passed since we'd last seen each other. We immediately fell back into the same happy, comfortable routine we'd had for years, and my heart did a happy little flip in my chest every time Javi leaned into me with the smile I loved so much.

We stayed out at the bar together long after my friends had left, hovering at a back table together until they kicked us out. Javi had walked to the bar from his hotel, so I gave him a ride back, the two of us lingering as clearly neither of us wanted to leave. When Javi finally hopped out of the car, it was only after we'd made plans to get together the next day, depending on the tornado situation.

Luckily for Javi and I, the forecast the following morning looked very calm. Javi texted me early, and we made plans to get together for lunch. I was practically walking on air as I drove into town, parking and hopping out to wait for Javi before heading inside. I didn't want to get too far ahead of myself, but having Javi back in my life even for these twelve hours or so had been amazing. I couldn't stop thinking about him, and frankly, I didn't want to.

Unfortunately, my happy little bubble got momentarily popped by a Storm Par truck pulling into the lot. I frowned and narrowed my eyes. They'd shown up in the area recently, swooping in like vultures and taking advantage of tragedy in the community to make a profit. If they were heading into the restaurant for lunch, Javi and I might need to find somewhere more peaceful to hang out.

I glowered at the truck, trying to project as much malice and disapproval as possible. Then the door popped open, and my heart stopped in my chest.

Javi climbed out of the driver's seat. He had on a Storm Par button down. He grinned and waved at me as soon as he saw me, but I couldn't do more than stare back. What the fuck was he doing?

"Hey! Sorry I'm a little late, I had a meeting this morning-"

"With Riggs?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Javi stuttered a step, the smile on his face dimming a little as I crossed my arms. He came to a stop in front of me.

"I... what?"

"I think that's my line, Javi. What the hell are you doing? Why are you showing up here in Storm Par shit?"

"I told you I was chasing again-"

"You told me you were here researching tornados! Not conning grieving people out of their family homes!"

Javi took a step back, blinking like I'd physically slapped him across the face. I huffed, trying to get a hold of myself. I'd been almost shouting by the end of my speech, and I really didn't want to throw a scene in front of the restaurant.

"Listen, I get why you're mad," Javi started, holding up his hands like a peace offering. "But Riggs is funding research that's going to allow us to better understand how, why, and when tornados form, which will save lives. We're on our way to the most complete understanding of a tornado ever, and we never would've gotten here without Riggs investing and getting us this tech."

I'd started shaking my head after the second sentence, getting faster and faster until Javi finished speaking. I huffed a disbelieving laugh and took a half-step back towards my car.

"There are other ways to get grant money, Javi. Ways that don't include Riggs."

"Yeah, just ways that include risking everything going into an EF5 that got almost all of my best friends killed."

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. It had been a dream come true when Javi walked into the bar last night, but this was quickly turning into a nightmare. Hurt, anger, saddness, and disappointment formed their own little tornado in my chest, and I barely managed to keep my voice level as I met Javi's eyes again.

"I know what you went through when you lost your friends. I understand why you're making the choices you're making. But you know as well as I do that Riggs is taking advantage of people, actively hurting people in this community, and that all the data you bring him with your research is just going to make it easier for him to swoop in looking to make a profit after disasters, not bringing help before them."

"That's not what we're doing-"

"You might be able to convince yourself of that while you're riding around in your stupid trucks, but unlike you, I was born and raised here, and I never left. I know what's happening, I know the reputation your sponsor has earned for you, and frankly Javi? I want nothing to do with it. Any of it."

Javi huffed in surprise, then scowled.

"I take it to mean that includes me?"

I nodded, slowly at first, then faster and more confidently as I took a few more steps back.

"As long as you're going to keep enabling the vultures? Yeah, that does include you."

He huffed again, a humorless laugh, as he shook his head and shuffled around like he couldn't figure out how to react. It felt like a knife to my heart, but I didn't let myself hesitate before turning around and heading back to my car. I'd sat and cried with neighbors in the wake of tornados, trying to salvage anything we could in the wreckage, before polished looking guys in suits came in and way underpaid for properties, then left without lifting a finger to help a single living thing in the devastated area. If Javi was willing to be a part of that, then he was nothing like the man I'd known and loved before.

****************

I sighed, dropping an armful of books on the kitchen table. I still had a few things to bring up from the storm shelter, but I couldn't stop myself from sinking into the nearest chair. It had been a long few days.

Less than 48 hours after Javi and I had our fight, one of the worst tornados of the year had touched down much too close for comfort. It had done some significant damage to the next town over, although not nearly as bad as it could've been. Exactly what had happened was still a little unclear, but it had been a long time since one had come that close to me. I hadn't been expecting it to affect me, but my knees were actually feeling a little weak.

I took a few moment to focus on breathing deeply, then rallied myself to move the last of my supplies out of the storm shelter. I'd just made it to my feet again when a knock came at the door.

I sighed and honestly debated pretending I wasn't home. But, most likely, it was a neighbor coming to check in or share news from the tornado. I didn't want them to worry, and I probably wouldn't get away with pretending not to be here.

I made it to the door just after another knock came, slightly louder this time. I swung open the door without looking outside first, then froze halfway through the motion when I found Javi staring at me, standing on my doorstep with a six pack of beer held loosely in one hand.

"Thank god you answered. Listen, I'm sorry. You were right. Kate was right. Storm Par... Riggs..." he shook his head, apparently at a loss for words. His hair and clothes were a mess, back to the Javi I'd known in grad school instead of the perfectly-pressed Storm Par rep I'd seen a few days ago. More than just that, though, he looked frazzled. Offbalance, in a way I'd never seen before.

"Javi... are you okay?"

He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.

"Did you hear about the big one?"

"...The tornado that just hit?" He nodded. "Yeah. I've only heard bits and pieces outside of the siren, but yeah. What happened? Is everybody... you said Kate's name earlier."

He quickly reassured me, getting halfway through reaching for my hand before pulling himself back.

"Kate's fine. I convinced her to come out here and help with research, but she almost-" Javi stopped short, closing his eyes for a long, long moment. I frowned, briefly considering what to do next, but it didn't take me long to reach a decision. Javi seemed to be implying he'd ditched Storm Par, but even if he hadn't, I still cared about him. And he clearly needed somebody right now.

"Javi. Why don't you come inside and sit down? Take a breath for a minute?"

He nodded, opening his eyes again and taking a slow, deep breath.

"Thanks."

"Sure thing."

I held the door open, and Javi didn't need me to show him where to go. We'd spent a good part of our relationship hanging out in this house, and it hadn't changed much since then. I followed Javi, letting him decide where he wanted to settle. Eventually, we ended up on the back porch, Javi settling into the bench swing where we'd watched more sunsets than I could count. He set the six pack down by his feet, and after a moment's consideration, I sat down next to him.

Javi didn't look at me as I joined him, his stare still a thousand yards out on the sun that had just started to approach the horizon. I gave him a few moments, then gently reached out to take his hand. His attention immediately snapped to me, his eyes wide with surprise. I gave him a soft smile.

"How long as it been since we spent an evening sitting out here?"

He huffed a laugh. "It's been a long time."

We shared a little smile, then after a moment, I sighed. Javi seemed calmer, at least slightly, and now I needed some answers.

"So... you wanna tell me what brought you here?"

"I came to apologize. You were right about Riggs, and about what's important. I want to be helping people, and it's a long story, but it became clear in the last few hours that I can't do that as long as I'm working with Riggs. I just wish I'd been able to figure it out earlier."

Javi shifted, taking my hand in his and shuffling a little closer to me. The apology was sweet, and I'd missed having moments like this with Javi, but his answer still had a lot of holes.

"I'm glad to hear you're done with Riggs- I mean, I'm assuming that's what you're saying?"

"Yes. Very much yes."

I smiled. "Okay. But maybe you should start a little further back on explaining what happened between now and the last time I saw you. Starting with why you failed to tell me Kate was in town."

"...In my defense, I was planning to tell you at lunch."

I couldn't hold back a snort.

"Fine. Depending on how good the rest of your explanation is, you get a pass on that."

Javi laughed. "Good. Alright, let me think about this..."

It took a while, but eventually Javi managed to walk me through his whole story. It was the serious catchup we'd been planning to have over lunch, but with the added beneift of a private moment together in one of our old favorite places. A lot had happened since Kate had come to town, and she'd had the same kind of fight with Javi as I had, but he'd come around and stepped up when it mattered.

"So, now we're done with Riggs. We're working on a pitch for investors back East right now, actually. Kate's going to present what we've got so far, and hopefully we'll have ethical funding for helping people and nothing else by the end of next month."

I smiled, leaning into Javi. The sky was red from the sunset now, and we'd been holding hands the whole time. Even though we'd gone years without really talking, right now, it felt like nothing had changed.

"I'm glad to hear it, Javi. And I'm so, so glad you're okay."

"Yeah, me too. It was dicey there for a minute, but we're on the other side now."

I leaned a little further into Javi, and after a moment, he raised one arm and stretched it around my shoulders. I sighed.

"You know..." Javi started. He paused and cleared his throat, then shifted a little on the bench before continuing. "Kate and I could actually use some help working on those grant proposals, and maybe some of our future presentations. I know you've always been happy to do your own thing, but... we'd love to have your help if you want to come back to spending more time with us. I would love that."

I leaned back to look Javi in the eye, and I couldn't keep a gigantic smile off my face for even a second.

"Honestly Javi? I would love that. Both to be part of helping you guys finish what you started, helping our community, and... for you. I missed you a lot."

"I missed you too. So much. And I know I'm the one who left, but if you'd be willing to give us another shot... I'll be around for the long haul."

 My heart did a backflip in my chest, and the beaming smile on my face mirrored the feeling.

"I would really love that Javi."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, good." He smiled back at me, then started leaning in before stopping short. "Can I kiss you?"

"Absolutely you can."

He grinned, then the two of us closed the distance as one, Javi's hand going to my waist as I tangled one in his hair. It felt right, and we both smiled into the kiss.

"No pressure if this is a little fast," I said, pulling back from Javi just enough to speak, "but... would you like to stay the night tonight?"

"You know I've stayed the night before, right? Regularly. I don't know if it can count as too fast if we've already done it a million times."

"Fair point. So what do you say?"

"I'd love to." He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on my neck and then moving slowly up towards my ear. One of his hands moved to my thigh as he whispered: "I've got a lot to catch you up on if you're going to start writing grant proposals for us. I think we've got an all-nighter coming on."

I laughed, pulling back and swatting at Javi's arm. He just grinned.

"Okay, I'm officially banning work talk until tomorrow morning."

"Honestly, you don't have to tell me twice."

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Twisters Taglist: @turtlee-says-rawr

[icarusredwings]

A soft treat for yall. It's about as soft as you'll ever get with these two.

The drums that never end.

A retired timelords oneshot. Sfw+cuddles ‼️

(Mainly) Any!Master's pov

Words: 2,715

It's storming in London (shocker)

The Doctor is sound asleep in his special rocking chair, in the corner of the living room. His breathing his regulated. His heart rates are normal. Except his head keeps slouching forward rather than back or to the side. It's possible his neck is going to ache when he wakes up.

The Master has taken over the Noble's couch, staring out the window, watching droplets of water race and observing the lightning.

It's quiet. Too quiet.

He couldn't remember the last time his head was this silent. This silence was interrupted by the sharp inhale from the Doctor, followed by what seemed to be a fearful whine.

For a moment, he watches his hand as it flinched and gently lift as if trying to grab hold of something just out of reach. His breaths quickened with each second that passed.

It didn't take long for him to appear by his side, not hesitating to place his hand in the others, pushing his head back with a grumble. Over 4 thousand years old, and he couldn't keep his head up on his own?

From the looks of it, in this moment, one could assume he was bugging the Doctor. Bothering him in attempts to wake him or mayhaps purposly giving him nightmares.

The girl coming into the room took note of this, and given his track record, she knew full well how much he enjoyed messing with him while unconscious. Whether it be drawing on him or simply laying on top of him for no reason other than to try to 'suffocate' him.

"Hey, What are you-?"

Before she could finish the sentence, she had been shooed away and hissed at, quite literally, for that matter. Crossing her arms, she rolled her eyes.

"I'm telling mom."

And off she went. It was odd, really. Something was different about her. Even his grandaughter from long ago was scared of him. Though it would take more than this to scare the noble child. She would only back away if he snapped at her with his teeth or threatened to eat her.

Often, she would do this. Roll her eyes, tell him he was making a fool out himself, and then run off to get the loud one. This time, he noted that she was bringing him a blanket and one of those stupid stuffed toys again. God, how ridiculous.

He always disliked humans... how oblivious they were. How pathetic and useless. And yet, how entertaining it was to watch them destroy themselves so easily with only a few simple steps. How easy it was to climb that metaphorical and physical food chain.

Had they any idea what he was capable of? Really? Any honest truth? Any clue how many lives the Doctor has ruined? How many hes taken? Though...he had a feeling it wouldn't matter.. they were still so kind to him. And why did the Doctor care if they were or not?

Why weren't they kind to him...?

They always forgave the Doctor.. and mayhaps that's why he hated it, so when he said, "I forgive you." Each time his plans were foiled.. Because he knew that the humans taught him a forgiveness in a way that Gallifrey couldn't. And it made him ill with jealousy.

He didn't know how the Doctor could stand it here. Constantly being monitered at every hitch of breath like some weak dying toddler. Every move, supervised. He even had a curfew. What Time Lord needed a curfew? And now him too.

They were to be back in the house by 3 am each night, or that red-headed woman would pull his ear and shout at him. Why he would choose to live in an attic instead of the open endless universe like before was beyond him. It made no sense.

Once the old bity beat him with a slipper for making a mess of things... and all while the Doctor just laughed... Why would he laugh? They could kill her so easily. They didn't NEED to obey their silly rules..

Though.. alas...he did. Almost as if he wanted to be them. To be human. It sickened him how spoiled they've made him. All pampered and cleansed of his powers.

So what if they fed him, Gave him his own room, and Even a spot in the living room all to himself? They spoke to him so kindly without knowing the milkey way worth of blood that doused his hands. The hands that he would gladly hold no matter how much more blood was painted onto them.

It made him nauseous how native he has become.

So different.. and yet.. the same hand he made pacts with as children. Promises to never leave one another. To travel the universe. Even if Magnus and the others failed their tests, They promised to stay on the same ship. Together.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he grasped the hand, using the other to prop his head up. Instantly, it fell again. Cocking his own to the side, he pushed it back once more, Wondering what it was about this chair that was so special. Why he slept in it so easily.

He wondered why this planet was so special to him.

Why he kept going off to lunch with that curly headed woman. Why he would sit in the garden and complain about the mites on the tomato plants and laugh with that disrespectful brat of a girl for hours.

He wondered why he wasn't good enough for the Doctor to stay with him. Why he didn't stay and accept his offers to settle down with him over the years..

He could make him a special chair.. He could kidnap those girls and force them to be kind to the Doctor if thats what he wanted. It would be easy to keep them as pets.

Hell! He could bomb the garden so that there were no more tomato mites! He'd create a virus so adverse that he makes the tomato mites extinct!

But the Doctor wouldn't like that.. would he?

By now, He found himself being tugged towards him, his hand trapped in an elabroate death grip brought by slumber. Shifting, he put his legs up over the side of the chair, putting his head up under his chin so his head would stop flopping over. That was the only reason- obviously. It was all part of his devious plan to squish him, you see.

Laying his head down, he heard the drumming of his chest.

Du- dun du- dun, du-dun du-dun, du-dun du-dun.

All those years.. he told them. He told everyone, but they never believed him. All those headaches. All those long nights awake.. alone.

All that pain and suffering.. And this was still his favorite beat.

Human hearts were far too slow to make this sort of noise. Far too calm. It was a sound of quad tubbed throbbing that only they could make... perhaps it's why he kept coming back to him. Because as much as he hated to admit it? He could never escape the ecstasy of these never-ending drums.

It wasn't the same as before - Oh, no, no no. It was much different. For you see these drums? These drums he could control if they pounded in his head or not. He could get up and walk away. He could fly until he hit the edge of the universe. And if he really wanted them to stop? He could kill him. Permanently... but he never would.

He couldn't. Scratch that - He wouldn't.

He could DO anything he wished, but recently, he's been finding that his will to do so was very little. He COULD force the Doctor back into the TARDIS, drive them to some other planet, and keep him there for himself. Travel. Together.

Just like their pact said. But he wouldn't. He was tired of the same old schemes. Tired of the planning, tired of the fighting, Tired... in general.

They both were.

Slowly, the tempo regulated again, and it felt just as it did when they were eons younger. Holding the skinny child close because he was terrified of the storms. Latching onto his hand and whining.

Back before he was the Doctor. When he would beg him not to leave until the storm was over... and now look at him.. all these millenia later.

Same hand. Different storm.

"...You haven't changed one bit, my dear.."

Back then, he wondered off into different crowds, too. Even when they went on outings together, somehow he'd always end up losing him and finding him hanging about with someone else. So I suppose him winding up choosing this silly planet over him wasn't that much of a surprise... at least now he was grateful that he came back looking for him.

Calling for him to show him what small thing brought him such joy this time... dragging him through a shop to show him a six slot toaster.

'Last time I was here, they've only made it to four! Isn't that neat?'

He asked, and all he could do was scrunch up his nose and stare at him, dumfounded. This was what impressed him these days? Bread heating machines? The same man who owned a TARDIS, sonic glasses, a sonic screen, and a sonic screwdriver had stars in his eyes over humans making a bread heating machine that could heat six pieces of bread at once?

Ooh.. but that was just him.. so proud of these tiny ants for doing the most useless and simpliest tasks. Though... at the end of the day, you couldn't help but grin to yourself at how ridiculously grand that must make you in his head then, didn't it? If they got such praise for TOAST imagine what praises he thought about you for doing so much more.

He made even the most terrible sound, terrificly intelligent. To see light in a species so dim witted to lose a war to oversized birds who couldn't even fly? Well, for Rassilon's sake, He must look like an exploding sun.

The snores that soon overtook him were thick but were of a man who's lived long and full lives. Content in the noise, his head was no longer silent.

The creator of the universe himself knew that this was a relief for the Master for one couldn't go with that drumming for that long then to silence. It was nice to have a reminder of what once was... It was nice to find confort in the thing that once drove you mad.

"Alright! What've you done this ti-?"

Walking in like a steam engine, the strawberry topped woman stopped and stared in disbelief. For a moment or two, she thought this was a trick, only to blink a few times, tilting her head, then smiled, watching as the two dreamed.

There, sitting in the corner of her home was four hearts beating the same rhythm and heavy snores synchronizing in unison. Two hands intertwined, another wrapped around his waist, and the other lazily curled up against his chest.

The head that was once lolling about was now properly placed up on top of his head and slightly drooling into his hair, the mans legs still hanging off the side.

"Oh my stars- Rose! Get the camera!" She whispered, smiling widely, having never thought she'd see the day when she managed to catch and tame not one but two wild Time Lords. And now here they were... all cuddled up in her living room. Oh, she was so framing this! Maybe even putting it on the family Christmas card.

Just before she could snap the perfect picture, a certain flat mate's eyes fluttered open, soft at first, only for those caterpillars to scrunch in confusion as most would do opon waking to see their friend taking photos of them.

"What are you?-"

A grumble in breath happened as she quickly put her finger to her lips, smiling and mouthing a 'Shh', gesturing to the shifting beast in his lap.

His eyes widened, and so did his smile, slowly securing him by the abdomen, very genty begining to rock in the chair, putting his nose to his head on the brink of giggling at Donna's expressions alone.

It was embarrassing to be caught like this, yes, but he really didn't want to wake him now that he understood what was going on. Especially if he felt the need to curl up like this? He would try anything in his power not to disturb him.

Watching from afar, Rose observed how natural he took to him. How he knew exactly where to hold and what to do. As if he's done this multiple times before. She was going to tease her uncle later about this, but for now, she was just glad he was okay. Like her mother, she could be a little overprotective.

"Wha's wrong with'em?" The red head whispered, still concerned about her friend's 'friend' even if he was a pain in the arse.

Careful not to make too much noise as she closed the curtians, deciding maybe she should start enforcing nap time. Perhaps it would do them both some good.

"Ooh, nothing... He thinks I'm scared of storms.."

"Wot?"

"When we were kids, I'd lie and tell him I was scared." He mumbled, keeping his head pressed against his chest as he calmly rocked, trying to soothe his own heart rates so as not to startle him into waking. He knew how this worked. How "The drumming" brought him farmiliarity.

Tilting her head, Donna cocked a brow. "Why?"

"He was. I knew he'd rather die than admit it, though.. so I told him I was, and he'd always climb up into my bunk.."

"D'awwww! You cheek!"

"Yeah, I know. But ever since..." The Doctor trailed off as if trying to remember how long it's been before giving up.

"Every storm...He's just...there. Even if he's just standing there..staring at me.."

"Wot, like a creep?"

Chuckling, he flashes her a sleepy grin, the rocking slowly coming to a stop. "A bit.. But I don't quite mind it anymore..."

A grin tugged at the edge of her lips, both proud and happy that her best friend was having a nice evening despite having some of his ribs being crushed right now. She could tell by how firmly he was holding him that this was something special to him, and while she didn't know much about their history, She knew he was happy.

"You've missed having your friend... didn't you?"

"Yeah.." He yawned, opening his mouth wide enough to remind her of a puppy, even doing the tounge thing and the whine at the end.

"Right. Back to sleep with you. I'll make sure to wake you when Wilfred gets here, Okay?"

"Thanks, Donna..."

"What for? I wouldn't ever let you miss grandpa."

"For... Everything."

"Ooh now.. don't be getting sappy on me..."

Coming over, she was careful not to get too close, giving his head a peck like the mother hen that she was.

"But Doctor?"

"Hm?"

"Any time."

Smirking from the pun, he watched as she left the room, turning off the light as she went.

Mmm... between the small snores, their hands intertwined, and his legs dangling over the arm of the chair, it made him feel like capturing this moment forever. He wondered, did Donna get a good picture? Was he drooling in it? Oh, he hoped not..

Letting out a loving sigh at the thought of Donna now having blackmail of him drooling everywhere, the Doctor closed his eyes, fluttering them shut as if they wouldn't be able to stay open any time soon.

Pressing his nose against his head, he took a soft whiff of his hair before whispering something that even the TARDIS couldn't translate, and it never would.

It didn't need saying.

Just like the two retired Time Lords definitely didn't NEED a duvet put over them with stuffed animals strategically placed in places that might end up sore later... it was sure nice to have the help.

And sometimes, it was better to be covered and cozy rather than cold and alone...

This isn't about the blankets... never has been.

(Man in the Attic on Ao3 by Icarusredwings)

[selineram3421]

Could you do headcannons of Alastor with a S/O who has weather related abilities? Like being able to summon storms and control wind?

Preferably they would also be a cat demon, but if that's too much then that's okay too.

-Indigo

Cat cat cat cat cat-oh yeah, sure.

Thrills And Chirps

Alastor X Cat Demon Reader Oneshot

Warnings? ⚠

⚠ thunderstorms, snuggles, mentions of death, cat stuff, so fluffy and cute you could suffocate from it and be happy ⚠

~

The storm outside was raging. Dark clouds covered the sky, only lit for a moment as lightning struck and the loud roar of thunder rolling in after. The winds were practically ripping roofs off of buildings.

It would be absolutely insane if anyone was out there.

Only one demon could cause such chaos.

The residents of the pride ring wondered what had angered them so to cause such a storm.

.

You were purring contently on the couch, snuggled up against your loving deer under a blanket in the living room. The fireplace lit and both of you were enjoying the sounds from the storm.

Another flash of lightning and Alastor's shadow wrote another tally mark on the chalkboard hung on the wall.

"Looks like you got another darling.", the man in red said not looking up from his book.

"Mhm~", you hummed and continued purring.

[As you can see, you aren't angry.]

It was really out of curiosity and a bit of entertainment. Your radio man wanted to know how many demons you could kill without lifting a finger. You agreed and asked for him to use his shadows to monitor the deaths caused by your storm.

With everything planned out, you sat back and decided to demand for attention.

And now you were lying on the couch, snuggled up on top of him.

He held the book in one hand as the other was busy with lightly scratching the back of your feline ears.

"Prrrrrrr~", a pleased rumble came from you as your purring increased in volume, tail swaying occasionally.

Alastor noticed that the hands resting on his chest started to move. Tearing his eyes away from his book and looking down, he saw that you were "making biscuits."

His eyes lit up and he tossed the book aside, no longer interested in the story and proceeded to pet you, this time with both hands.

Your purring increased tenfold, but you had to hold back from letting your claws out too much, not wanting to mess up your love's clothes.

"Hm~hmm-hmmmm~", Alastor hummed, static lacing his voice as he continued lightly scratching your scalp and behind your ears.

The purrs coming from you changed slightly when the static came on. It was a little deeper, and the vibrations were more noticeable.

For you, Alastor's static was another form of purring or growling. Depending on the volume, which was a comfortable low hum: it meant he was also content.

You let out a thrill between purring.

The Radio Demon's ears perk up at that, his smile widening.

All is forgotten about the death tolls and he focused on getting you to make that sound again, static crackling slightly.

"Prrrrrrrrrr-row! Prrrrrrrrrrrrr~"

It happens again and he beams with full on excitement.

Hearing the static crackle, you rubbed your head against his hands and let out another noise, a chirp.

"Mrrp!"

If the man wasn't already a cat person, you would have been enough to convert him into one.

You opened your eyes slightly and looked up at him, giving slow blinks.

Like any cat, you were hard to read, especially with a straight face. Thankfully he's kept tabs on the way you've reacted and one thing he learned from when he fed a cat when he was alive.

Slow blinks are a sign of trust and love.

His heart soars, but he keeps calm and does the action back, blinking slowly and bumping his forehead against yours.

"Prrrrrrrrrr~"

.

You could clearly kill a multiple amount of demons without needing to lift any fingers. Alastor would make sure you wouldn't have to anyway.

~

Snuggles and brain go purrrrrrrrrrrr~

I'll kick myself out now. 🚶..🏠

~Seline, the person.

ML for Alastor🎙

Research

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n

[delicatebarness]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏 | 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: At Velmythria Academy, among creatures much larger and more powerful than yourself, you unexpectedly cross paths with the imposing werewolf– Bucky Barnes. Leaving you questioning the rules of the realm.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Forbidden Relationships | Size Difference | Tension | Societal Restrictions | Small Physical Contact

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 871

𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭: Ko-FI | Instagram | Personal Blog | Pinterest

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐀/𝐍: Thank you all for taking an interest in this idea, I really hope I've done it justice! Also, I just added everyone to the tag list but of course, if you don't wish to be tagged in further parts, please let me know! - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - Bethiee x

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧: @nash-dara | @bvckys-doll | @minamin210 | @nerd-without-a-cause | @bo0mccc | @curlycow01 | @bucky-baby-barnes | @sebastians-love | @pattiemac1 | @mystery122577-blog | @bejeweledcowboyy | @waywardalpacaoctopus | @asha-rahiro | @calwitch | @w0nd3rlnd | @sidraaaaaaaaa | @buckycuddles | @chimchoom | @danzer8705 | @foulpersonahandsvoid | @mcira | @queergalpal97 | @bucky-baby-barnes

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

The grand halls of Velmythria Academy felt a little too vast for someone your size, the marble walls etched with ancient runes towered over you. A faint light pulsing from them. Velmythria– a place for all creatures, including those far bigger and fiercer than you, had been your home since birth. Born an earth fairy, your wings shimmer a soft emerald green upon your small frame, and you were the smallest of the fairy kind. 

     You effortlessly glided through the hallways, slipping between the Vampires, Sirens, Giants, and other creatures crowding. However, something felt different in the air that day. 

     Pushing the heavy wooden door, your wings fluttered slightly as you entered the ‘History of Velmythria Creatures’ class. Rows of seats climbed high up the walls, an enchantment casting over them to accommodate each student– The varied sizes, and needs of all. You had always enjoyed this class, hearing the tales of the ancient realms, the forgotten wars, and the lost creatures you only knew as myths. The classroom buzzed with recognizable languages, guttural growls, and other higher-pitched chirping.

     And then there he sat– Bucky Barnes.

     He took up almost the entire back row, the chairs although enchanted, were made to look laughably small against his broad frame. The werewolf stood seven feet tall and ran as the alpha of the Academy’s resident wolf pack. His thick, unruled hair seemed to have a mind of its own, and his blue eyes pierced as they scanned the room. The weight of which could make even the most confident of creatures uncomfortably shift in their chairs. 

     Your wings fluttered as you searched for a spot, every seat feeling impossibly large until you spotted an empty chair. Second from the back, just a row down from Bucky. The sight of him was enough for you to pause. As he sat slumped in his seat, the fabric of his shirt stretched over his shoulders. His elbows propped on the desk, large hands that were no match for the delicate stationery the academy provided. 

     His presence was impossible to ignore, yet you have never spoken to him. He was always in the background, silently commanding attention. 

     You settled into the seat before him with a soft breath, closer to him than you’d usually dare to be. The air around you thickened as you sat, trying to ignore the heavy and lively charge surrounding you and focus on retrieving your notebooks and pens. 

     The professor’s scales shimmered under the dim lights, an ancient dragon shifter, as the lecture began. The topic of the day was written across the chalkboard: Forbidden Bonds. A subject you’ve always found fascinating. Although, it was hard to focus, especially with the warmth radiating from the wolf behind you, making you hyper-aware of the space between you.

     As the lecture progressed further into the topic, a faint crack echoed in the air. Glancing back toward him, you were just in time to see the pen snap within his heavy grip. His brows furrowed in frustration, staring down at the broken plastic. Without a second thought, you reached into your pencil case, pulling out another one of your opens. 

     Carefully you slide the pen– a small, woodland-themed one with illustrated mushrooms printed on the sides towards him. A strange shiver shot up your spine as your fingers brushed against his. His skin was callous yet warm, and in that moment, you heard him– a rumble, low and deep within his chest. Barely audible, it was almost a growl catching in his throat causing your wings to twitch into a flutter.

     His attention shifted, his gaze heavy on you as you dared not to look. There was a long pause, neither one of you moving. But then, slowly, he took the pen, thick fingers holding it like it was fragile. You watched out of the corner of your eye, him testing the pen by scribbling a few lines on his paper. It looked almost absurd, his large hand accompanied by the cutesy design, and yet he did not comment. He simply just… used it.

     Trying to refocus on the lecture, you couldn’t help but notice the pounding of your heart against your chest. Your thought drifted back to that brief moment of contact, and the way his quiet rumble vibrated through your entire body. His concentration was unwavering, yet from the small glimpses you caught, his grip was more careful now. It was as if he was being conscious of his own strength. 

     You wondered if he had noticed, sensed, how flustered you were. However, as the professor brought the lecture to an end, Bucky stood. Pocketing the mushroom pen without a word and began leaving the classroom. He never looked back at you, but the weight of his large looming presence lingered around you. And, it wasn’t until you heard his heavy footsteps fade away down the hallways that you finally let out a breath. A breath you didn’t realize you were holding onto. 

     An inexplicable pull toward him unsettled you. How could one small, accidental brush of contact begin to stir something inside of you? It made you question the rules of the realm, and how unbreakable the boundaries between creatures could be.

---

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

[twistersobsessed]

hi love! i love your writing so so much! especially your scott works. i’ve literally been obsessed with him since the movie came out

i was wondering if you could maybe write something like scott and reader are in an relationship and she’s super sensitive while he’s super mean.

one day he’s just in a bad mood (idk maybe he couldn’t get good enough data on a storm) and he’s kinda taking it out on her and it ends up really hurting her feelings so he has to make it up her

<333

Bad Moods & Sensitivity | Scott x Reader

A/N: Ahh thank you bestie! I’m so obsessed with Scott too 😭

Scott was in an absolutely foul mood. You had no idea why. When you came up to him at breakfast and wrapped your arms around him, he’d shrugged you off. It hurt your feelings but you decided to respect him and give him some space. Scott’s bad mood was affecting your mood though, it killed you that you couldn’t love on your boyfriend.

Storm Par was stopped at a gas station, and of course, Tyler Owens and his crew were stopped at the same one. Scott and Javi were talking by the truck, and since Scott wasn’t paying you any attention, you made your way towards the gas station’s convenience store.

“(Name)!” You turned to see who was calling you to find Tyler, standing by his truck with Boone, waving you over. You smiled and made your way to them. “Hey guys.” You’d always been friendly to Tyler and his people but you didn’t often get called over to talk to them. “What’s up?”

“You look sad,” Tyler frowned. “Everything okay with you and Clipboard?”

Clipboard. Tyler’s name for Scott. Your face fell.

“Aw, I take that as a no?” Boone chimed in.

You shook your head. “It’s nothing really, he’s just in a really bad mood today. Shrugged me off this morning and hasn’t talked to me since.”

Boone gave Scott a dirty look while Tyler hummed. “You’re too pretty to deal with that attitude,” Tyler said.

You shrugged. “He’s not usually like this.”

“Really?” Boone raised an eyebrow.

You understood why they didn’t like Scott, but you also weren’t going to stand there and listen to them talk badly about your boyfriend. “I’m uh, gonna go get a snack. See you guys out there!” You politely excused yourself. They bid you goodbye and you entered the store, oblivious to the angry set of eyes on you.

Inside, you bought yourself an energy drink, and you bought Scott a pack of his favorite gum, hoping to cheer him up a little bit. You paid and left, striding towards Scott and Javi. Javi smiled brightly at you, but Scott didn’t even look at you.

“Babe, I got you your gum,” you said softly, holding out the pack. Scott turned to you and you were taken aback by the anger in his eyes. “Go give it to the hillbillies,” he spat. Your face crumpled. “What?”

“Since you like flirting with the competition so much.” Scott’s voice dripped with venom.

“Scott…”

“Shut up, (Name), I’m having a shitty ass day already and then you go and get all friendly with Owens and his little sidekick, I don’t want to hear it.”

Tears begin to pour down your cheeks. You hadn’t even felt them well up. Scott’s face softened. Javi pulled you into a hug, glaring at Scott. “That was so unnecessary,” he told him as he held you. “I think you should walk away for a bit.”

Scott bit his tongue and did as Javi said. Javi soothed you until you calmed down. You threw the gum in the trash.

For the rest of the day, you clung to Javi’s side and avoided Scott. That night, you made sure Javi booked you your own motel room; you didn’t feel like sharing with Scott. You sat alone on the bed, knees tucked up against your chest. It was quiet and lonely without Scott but you’d be damned if you sought him out.

A knock shook you out of your stupor. You sniffed, and slid off the bed, creeping over to the door and looking through the peephole. “Go away, Scott,” you said irritably when you saw who it was. “Baby,” his voice was pleading. “Please. I’m so fucking sorry. Let me in.”

You sighed, but opened the door a crack to make eye contact with him.

Scott’s heart hurt when he saw how tired and sad you looked. He wanted nothing more than to throw open the door and take you into his arms, but he respected your space.

“What do you want?” Your voice was flat.

“Can I come in?”

You considered it for a moment before nodding slightly and opening the door all the way to allow Scott inside. You stepped away from Scott as he stepped towards you. He shut the door behind him, then to your surprise, dropped to his knees.

“My behavior today, and what I said… unacceptable. I am so, so sorry. It doesn’t matter that I was in a mood or that I was jealous, it’s not an excuse. It never should have happened. I’m sorry I brushed you off at breakfast, I’m sorry I ignored you all day, and I’m really fucking sorry for what I said at the gas station. You know I don’t like how Tyler looks at you.”

You swallowed, considering his apology. “I don’t know, Scott,” you sighed.

He suddenly looked fearful. “Do you want to break up?”

The question hung heavy in the air. If you had more respect for yourself, maybe you’d have left him for how he treated you today. But a deeper, more sensitive part of you, couldn’t bear to throw away an entire year together for one really bad day.

“No,” you finally responded, and Scott’s shoulders sagged in relief. “But… I don’t know. You really fucking hurt me, that was really fucking unfair.”

Scott reached out towards you and you reluctantly took his hands. He pulled you into him. Even kneeling, he was so tall that his head was level with your chest. He looked up at you with reverence in his bright blue eyes, his hands caressing your waist.

“I love you so much, (Name). I will never let a bad mood be an excuse to treat you like that ever again.”

He paused. “And I’ll eat you out as soon as you can stand to look at my face again.”

Scott gave phenomenal head.

You blushed. It made you giggle a little and Scott smiled hopefully. You looked at him for a minute before smiling back. “Okay.”

Scott’s face lit up. He stood from his knees and picked you up instead, your legs wrapping around his hips. Scott pressed his lips to yours gently but eagerly. “I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he murmured against your mouth.

“You better.”

[st4rqirl444]

i’m gonna attempt to start writing up here again so please request because i have no clue what to write plot wise. also it’s mostly gonna be x men because im quite literally obsessed with them rn but its other ppl too mostly marvel tho for right now😼🤭

characters i’ll write for - logan howlett, young charles xavier, young erik lehnsherr, alex summers, scott summers, mystique/raven, hank mccoy, kurt wagner, deadpool, young colossus, remy labeau, pietro or peter maximoff, stephan strange, loki, jean grey, storm, wanda maximoff, steve rogers, peter parker (andrew’s version), dean winchester, sam winchester.

there might be people im forgetting but if someone you want is not on the list feel free to just ask! i can also write for celebs if you want like ryan reynolds, hugh jackman, pedro pascal etc.

anyways you can request one shots, headcannons or blurbs but i will most likely not write smut because i have never written it and im shit at it

anyways have a great day ! 🤞

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍

part 2 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - after catching your husband and best friend, you struggle with the negative thoughts that attack your mind.

warning - mentions of cheating, negative thoughts, self-hate, betrayal.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 3

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Your thoughts were running wild as tears continued rolling down your face, your lip bleeding from all the biting you were doing. You ignored the pain as your teeth dug once again into your bottom lip, you didn’t want him to hear you. You couldn’t confront him right now, your chest felt like it had been stabbed a thousand times and then someone had reached inside, gripping your heart, and squeezing.

You clutched your hands close to you as you lean forward, mouth falling open into a silent scream, tears rapidly falling before quiet sobs escape and your hands move to grip the sheets. Him fucking her kept replaying on repeat, like a broken record. Your head tilted back as you continued to cry, vision blurry as tears filled them and you stared up at the ceiling. Questions continued to intrude your mind alongside the image of them.

Why weren’t you good enough? 

Why did they do this? 

Was this the first time? 

Could you have done better to stop this from happening?

Maybe if you were prettier than her, he wouldn’t have cheated.

Your thoughts continue to attack you and you quickly pull the blanket to your mouth as you sob into it, clenching your eyes shut, more tears slipping out from the force and pain. After a few more minutes of crying, you had finally begun to calm down, only a couple more tears slipped from your eyes.

You looked down at your left hand, staring brokenly at your wedding and engagement ring. Did the vows you two spoke mean nothing to him? You played with your rings as you thought back to your wedding day, realising something you probably should’ve on the day.

You were standing there, looking at yourself in the full-length mirror. Your eyes were scanning your wedding dress with a soft smile as you felt like a princess. Your gaze snapped up as the door opened and Sarah stumbled in with a smile, her hair slightly ruffled and her lipstick smudged. She looked up at you and smiled– Looking back at it, the smile didn’t look at all friendly, it leaned more towards it being a smile someone gives you when they know something you don’t, one that seemed almost malicious. 

“Sorry, I got a bit caught up.” Sarah bit her lip, moving closer. “Oh! I ran into Johnny on the way back and he looked good. He didn’t seem like he had cold feet or anything.”

You smile, sighing happily. “Yeah?”

She nods, fixing her makeup and hair in the mirror before turning to you. “Yeah, he really seems to love you, Y/n.” When you walked down the aisle, his hair was slightly tousled, and you missed the lipstick stain hidden in the collar of his shirt. You were too blinded on your wedding day, eyes and heart filled with love and dreams. If you weren’t so blind, you would’ve seen the looks the two were giving each other. 

You blink out of the memory, realising this whole time it was before your eyes, but you were too blind. You thought Johnny had changed from what everyone knew him as, but he had just found new ways to lie. You crawl to the side of your bed and reach underneath it, pulling out a photo album filled with your wedding photos. Sitting back, you open it and begin to flick through, your eyes narrowed as you search for something, anything. You don’t know if you want to confirm your memory or not, but you couldn’t stop yourself as you continued to flick through every single photo. Analysing every little detail like your life depended on it.

You stopped, your hand slightly shaking as you stared down at one. It was a close up of you and Johnny, your eyes zeroed in on the small stain inside his collar, the colour matching awfully close to the one your best friend was wearing on the day. You flicked to another photo, your breath catching as you notice how close they are in this photo, they had been getting food and you didn’t think much of it. But now, as you stare down at the photo, you realise it wasn’t normal for them to be THAT close, with THAT look on their faces. Their fingers seemed to be brushing and your heart clenched because at this point, you were married. He CHEATED on you on your WEDDING day. He cheated with your BEST FRIEND… She betrayed you… They betrayed you.

You choke up when you remember a conversation you overheard from one of his friends.

“Damn, did you guys see the chick Johnny went home with during his bachelor party last night?!” The guy whistled as if he was imagining the woman. “She was so fucking hot! I think she’s close with Y/n? She’s that one–”

“Yeah, yeah! I know who ya talkin’ about! She’s fuckin’ fine!” Another one of his friends chimed in, “You’re tellin’ me he managed to score her before the big day?!”

“Yeah! Apparently, she’s so good, he’s gonna keep seeing her.” There was a pause. “Which should be easy for him seeing as his soon–to–be wife is close to the woman.” 

You didn’t know why you had forgotten that conversation, maybe somewhere deep down you were hoping they were talking about another Johnny, another Y/n, another wedding. It was as though your mind and heart worked together to stop you from being hurt. You wouldn’t have gone through with the wedding if you knew he fucked your best friend at his bacholer party! You would’ve been saved from the hurt from what happened afterwards. You would’ve never caught them, you would’ve never remembered her coming in after doing god knows what with him on your wedding day.

He said he loved you with a knife against your throat. All his words and promises began to feel like nothing, because that was what they were. Nothing. They never had any meaning behind them, the only person who thought they did was you. You had been fooled all this time. You wondered why he still never slept with you after your wedding night. Was he sleeping with her this whole time? You rarely saw her, so they would’ve had to meet up secretly. Was she that much better than you that it caused him to just never want to sleep with you again? Or was it in some twisted way, his way of being faithful to her, even though you held his last name? 

You hadn’t realised you had started crying again, still so softly as to not alert the man in the house. Your body began to feel weak and drained, with the last bit of energy you could muster, you slipped the photo album back into place before drifting off into a nightmare filled sleep. 

You had woken up ten minutes before Sarah got back, you decided to pretend things were slightly normal for now until you could figure out what to do. You let yourself wake up before heading down to the lounge room, sitting with Johnny, you stare blankly at the game on the screen. The front door opened and from the corner of your eye, you watched as your husband became excited when he heard it. It was strange… Before you never even noticed the smallest things, now it seemed as though everything had enhanced. 

Sarah walked into the room, and you watched as her eyes landed on Johnny first before she even noticed you. You watched as her demeanour immediately changed and she flashed you a very fake smile. You returned it, even though your face was fighting against the action. It felt you weren’t even there when she sat close to your husband. You felt like an outsider in your own home, your own marriage. You watched as they acted like this was routine for them, like it was natural. You felt like you weren’t the one married to him. You didn’t know what hurt more. 

Your thoughts ran wild as the three of you sat there, watching the screen. Well, you were watching the screen… 

What were you going to do?

How were you going to get through this? 

Would this be your life if you couldn’t find anywhere to go? Couldn’t find it in yourself to leave? 

Would you one day wake to your best friend telling you she’s pregnant, but never mentioning the father. Only for you to know and watch as your husband dotes on his child with another woman. 

Would you ever find love again if you left? 

Could you even leave? 

How long were people expected to leave when they’ve found out their partner is cheating on them? Immediately? Weeks? Months? Years? 

Could you really be alone again? 

A voice in the back of your mind spoke, criticizing you, questioning you. Did you actually think you mattered to him? Silly silly girl. You mean nothing to him… Just look at them, so perfect together, like they were made for each other. You are just getting in the way. You were so stupid for not seeing it before. 

This is your own fault for being so blind. 

You were brought out of your thoughts when she stood, sneaking Johnny a look. “I’m gonna head to bed, I’m exhausted.” Her smile stretched so wide as she looked at you, reminding you of the one she gave on your wedding day. “Thank you so much for letting me stay again, Y/n. I’ve missed us being together.” Was that a double meaning behind her words? You couldn’t bring yourself to reply, only nodding with another fake smile.

You watched as your husband watched her walk away, with a look he had never looked at you with. Your heart followed with each step your best friend took. Your gaze moved back to the tv when Johnny turned his attention to you. “Do you think we should head off as well? I’m pretty beat.” He stands and stretches, not even waiting for your response as he is already heading to the bedroom.

You sit there for a minute, your mind filled only with negative thoughts, your eyes and heart heavy. 

This was your fault. You weren’t good enough. This is your fault.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.