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imaginaryf1shots · 3 days ago

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School Vigilante Pt. 1 | Oscar Piastri

WC: 5.2K

Oscar x childhood!friend!reader

Summery:(REQUESTED) Oscar is back from a weekend of racing. On the way back, he's stopped by jealous guys.

Warning: fighting, injuries, maybe cursing?

A/N: This request is one of my absolute favourite, so fun to write and once I started it was easy. I'm not linking the request until I post the second part

@ausie-brit this one is for you ❤️

Masterlist

Oscar Masterlist

When Oscar decided to take karting seriously, telling his parents that he wants to be an F1 driver, they told him that their condition is for him to finish at least school. So, when he moved to Europe to compete there, they enrolled him into private school. And when he wasn’t racing or training, he was there. Oscar didn’t mind his time at school. But since he missed so many days, he mostly only made friends with people in karting.

Oscar’s family agreed with the school to let him come and go, if he got good grades and they paid all his tuition, which they did. The school didn’t allow their students out of campus most weeks, including weekends, but every once and a while the students will have a weekend in town, depending on their ages.

Even though Oscar didn’t spend as much time in school as other did, but he’s one of the popular ones. It’s known that he isn’t there on scholarship like some of the students are. And everyone has seen the places he goes to due to racing. He’s known as the racer kid in school, people like to talk about him and speculate a lot.

You of course knew who Oscar was, like everyone in school, you also heard the girls talk about how goodlooking he is. Thankfully your parents had you in a single bedroom, so you had no roommates, it helped you study and focus on your extracurricular activities. Being top of your year and the smartest student in years, made it easy for you to do those extracurriculars you liked. Teachers and students often didn’t pay attention to what you were doing and didn’t check on you.

It was one evening, Oscar was returning from a formula 3 race. The sun has sat since he arrived back in the UK, Oscar only had a backpack with him. He was close to the school gate; the campus was huge and surrounded by high brick fence. The streets weren’t that well light, but there was enough light for Oscar to see around him.

Oscar heard them before he saw them, the sound of drunken guys being rowdy. He hoped that they wouldn’t cross his path, he wasn’t feeling up to having to talk to anyone, all he wanted is to shower and go to bed.

But it looks like luck wasn’t in his favour because they soon rounded a corner and saw him instantly. He couldn’t see their face, but he was walking towards a streetlight, so they clearly saw them.

“W-wait, is that? What’s his name?” The shorter one said and pointed at Oscar. “The driver!”

“Ooh, you’re right.” The taller squinted his eyes. “Oscar or something.”

“Yes! Oscar.” His friend said and they looked at Oscar, he was moving closer to them. “Looks like he’s coming back from a race.”

“I don’t get how he gets to leave most weekends, and we’re stuck here, every day.” The taller one complained. Oscar doesn’t know if it’s their drunken mind or if it’s just how they are. But they walked up to him and blocked his way. No Oscar isn’t a small kid, he’s not short, and he works out every day, but the guys looked both taller and bigger than him, it was intimidating, he was intimidated even if he didn’t show it.

“You’re Oscar, right?” The shorter one asked buffing his chest.

“Yes.” Oscar answered one of his hands gripping his bag’s strap tighter.

“So what you’re back from a race?” The shorter asked smirking, Oscar could smell the alcohol on them from where he stood.

“Yeah.” Oscar tensed up, he was simply hoping they’d leave him alone.

“Why do you get to do as you please and the rest of us are stuck?” The taller asked and leaned closer to Oscar crossing his arms in front of him.

“My parents made a dea-“

“Oh parents! Yes, forgot you come for money, doing rich people sports and all that.” The taller cut him off and he pushed Oscar’s shoulder back, making the Australian stumble back a step. “You know, it’s not fair, they can’t just allow you to come and go as you please and the rest of us are stuck because you have more money than we do, the system is messed up, and you just think you’re too good for a regular life just because you race and…”

You heard them before you saw them, they were loud, you could hear them from down the street, leaning over the edge you saw them come closer and closer before they passed you, you followed them around the corner and saw them look at another guy walking by the school fence. You saw those two sneaking out a lot, not only them, but they also usually had a couple more people with them. You usually come here for the open space to train, you can only do so much in your dorm room. They were still being so loud, you heard every word they said to Oscar, the guy the girls liked to fawn over. You adjusted the black face mask on your face and put your cap back on before you pulled your hoodie over it, the hoodie had the school crest on it, but you couldn’t risk wearing anything else in case you got caught after getting back on campus.

You saw how the guys moved, and from their stances you knew this was about to get ugly, and two against one is bad in your book. Getting to the pipe running down the side of the two story building, you swung yourself over the edge and held onto the pipe, placing your feet on the metal parts attaching the pipe to the wall. Moving swiftly you climbed down the pipe and moving in the shadows you got closer to the trio.

Thankfully you were close enough to them, because the moment the shorter one moved over his friend with his hand raised in the air you bounced. You ran over and pushed his harm to the side by his forearm, and sliding yourself in front of Oscar, the guy stumbled but regained his balance quickly.

“What the heck? Who are you?” The taller one asked taking half a step back, but not backing away. You tilted your head to the side but didn’t answer.

“What are you doing, hit him!” His friend pushed him closer to you and it took him a moment before he tried to attack you. Maybe it was the alcohol or they’re just stupid but it was obvious when he leaned to the right he was going to swing. You once more dodged, he didn’t stumble like his friend, just swung and swung the last one he stumbled. You’ve been backing up, making Oscar also back up. Oscar could only see your back, hew knew you were from his school but other than that he had no idea who you were.

The guys both shared a look and then came at you.

“Step back.” You told Oscar and he then realised you’re a girl, his eyes went wide but he did as you said. Clearly you knew what you were doing.

Your training kicked in as you swing under a hand flying your way before punching one of the guys in the stomach. Before turning in a spinning roundhouse kick that caught the first guy square in the jae, he stumbled back, shocked that soon turned into anger as he crashed to the ground. Your hood slipped off showing your hair under the hat.

“Whoa.” The second guy exclaimed, momentarily stunned, his drunkenness failing him. “Is that a girl?”

You didn’t give him time to process, you darted forward, closing the gap he made between the two of you. in a swift motion you dropped low, your knee shooting into his gut. He doubled over, gasping for breath and you followed up with a precise elbow to his back, he hit the ground sprawling.

The moment they were both on the ground you turned to Oscar. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yes.” Oscar looked at you confused by the whole thing, this is all happening too fast. Oscar tried to look at your face, but with the hat leaving a dark shadow on the little that was visible from your face he was unable to. But his eyes flickered down to the glinting of a necklace around your neck, his eyes flicker to your hands, and he sees a scar over your knuckles. There wasn’t time for him to say anything else, as the first guy scrambled to his feet, rage all over his expression. He charged at you, fist swinging wildly, you dodged easily. Your body is moving like water around him. in a seamless move, you sidestepped and swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing down once more.

The second guy staggered to his feet, his expression shifting from shock to fury. “You’ll pay for that!” He slurred, launching another awkward punch.

You sidestepped again, your training kicking in as you countered with a swift jab to his ribs, then pivoted behind him, locking your arm around his neck. With a quick twist, you sent him tumbling to the ground, gasping.

Breathing heavily, you looked back at Oscar, who was now staring in awe.

“Get out of here before they decide to get back up.” Oscar hesitated, he didn’t want to leave you alone with the guys, even if you took them on by yourself. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay.” Oscar turned and ran down the street to the gate, he heard you follow him. However, by the time he reached the gate, there’s no one behind him when he looked back.

The next morning, Oscar couldn’t get you out of his head. As he walked to the administrative office, every detail from the previous night replayed in his head: the swiftness of your strikes, the way you moved with precise control, you’re trained he knows that for a fact.

Oscar recounted everything that happened to the headmaster, he could tell that they didn’t believe him a 100%, he asked if there’s CCTV, and then the headmaster and the vice-headmaster all went to the security room. Pulling up the footage from the day before, they skipped to the time Oscar told them the altercation happen, and sure enough they saw the guys walk to Oscar. The looks on their faces turned from doubtful, to concern, the school was ‘good’ with security, parents leave children in their care but here they are drunk and out when they shouldn’t.

There was no sound, but everything was clear, the principle knew who they were, even though the quality wasn’t the best, both guys were in trouble a while ago. When you appeared on screen, everyone leaned forward to try and see who you were, but even when your hood fell, they couldn’t pinpoint who you were.

“Do you recognise her?” They asked him.

“No, but she’s from our school, had the jacket and everything.”

Now in a school that doesn’t have any gossip besides who dated who and who cheated on who, the news spread like wildfire around school. The teachers told the students that they wanted to know who the girl was, and for her to step forward and nothing would happen to her, no punishment or anything.

By lunchtime, nearly everyone had heard about the mystery student who had supposedly rescued Oscar from an attack.

It took three days before a girl stepped up and said that it was her. She showed the teachers where she sneaks out from, and you couldn’t help but snort when you heard. You usually jump the wall where no cameras are positioned, you don’t sneak out when the guards change shifts or wait for them to go on a bathroom break. It was ridiculous. But you didn’t bother saying anything, let them believe what they wanted.

She cornered him after going to the teachers.

“I heard what happened.” She said flipping her hair back. “Crazy night, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess you can say that.” Oscar replied trying to keep the conversation short. He wasn’t really a big fan of all the attention now on him because of the incident.

“Well.” Saddie continued, leaning a little closer. “I think I know what you’re wondering… it was me who saved you.”

Oscar blinked, taken a back, he didn’t expect that. “You?”

She grinned nodding.

“Yep. I was out that night too, you know, I sometimes sneak out.” She smirked as if revealing some thrilling secret. “I saw you in trouble and couldn’t just stand by.”

Oscar frowned; not sure he believed her. The girl who saved him moved with a lot of grace and confidence, he’s not convinced Saddie was that person. But she kept talking, adding more details to the attack. She knew the number of people, where they came from, and even some of the things they said. The footage wasn’t released, something only those who were there or watched the videos will know. But he still was sceptical, her build was different from the one he saw fighting, especially the height. He wasn’t that tired to forget or get confused. But she did know about the fight.

To you it was obvious why the girl lied, it was in the way she tried to stick to Oscar’s side, trying to touch him and laughs at everything he says, even when they’re not jokes. It was also obvious to you how uncomfortable it made Oscar; he’d cringe or roll his eyes, and Saddie still wouldn’t care or notice.

Even so, the news spread, and everyone was calling her a hero. Saddie went around saying what happened, exaggerating her story with each time she’s asked about it, embellishing details and playing up her bravery as though she fought off an army And everyone just started shipping them together, to no avail it seems because Oscar isn’t the type to be pressured into anything.

Oscar was back from another weekend of racing; he found himself at the nurses office because his side was hurting from a crash on track that he was involved in.

Oscar walked in and didn’t see the nurse, but he saw you. You looked up at him before you went back to what you’re doing. You had sustained a few scrabs and cuts while you were doing parkour and fell. It wasn’t big or deep, all superficial.

“Uh, do you know where the nurse is?” Oscar asked closing the door behind him.

“She went to the toilet, will be back in a bit.” Oscar takes a look at you, while you paid him no mind, he knows you’re in his class, but he doesn’t know your name.

“I’m sorry, I forgot your name.” You looked up and drowned, no one ever asks you for your name or anything for that mattered. You were invisible to a lot of people in the school, and you didn’t really mind.

“y/n.” You tell him and finish putting the bandages on your hand. You turned to face Oscar fully, and something caught the light making him look down. His eyes went wide in recognition, you looked at where he was staring and saw your necklace. You pushed it under your shirt and sighed, but that gave him a view to your uncovered hand. A scar.

“You’re her.” Oscar said and you sighed, moving to get out of the nurse’s room. Oscar stepped back blocking the door. You stopped and glared at him, there’s a stiffness to your shoulders.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say through gritted teeth, getting annoyed with him. He’s always gone, which you don’t care about, and no one has figured or had any inkling to what you do during the weekend. Everyone just assumes you spend your time studying.

“You saved me two weeks ago.” Oscar crosses his arms in a challenge.

“No! what are you talking about? That was Saddie.” You shrug, and if Oscar didn’t know better, he would’ve believed you.

“I saw the necklace when you were fighting, it’s you.” Your hands went to where the necklace rested under your shirt. “Same height, same build, same hair and same scar.”

“That means nothing, it could be anyone with my hair colour or something.” You weren’t welling to back down, you were scared of getting exposed and then suffering the consequences, you’ve worked too hard for that to happen.

“y/n, it’s you.” Oscar was firm, and you knew there was no changing his mind.

“You can’t prove it.” Was all you said as you looked away, trying to come up with what to say to the headmaster. Oscar’s heart skipped a beat, it is you then. You’re the mysterious saviour, the one that jumped in even though you don’t know each other.

“I’m not going to tell anyone.” Oscar said softly noticing what’s bothering you.

“You’re not?” your head snapped to look at him.

“I’m not.” He gave you a smile and you slowly returned it. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh… you don’t have to.” You shrug not seeing it as a big deal. “They were too drunk to do anything, anyways.”

It surprised him how different your reaction is from Saddie, you don’t want the recognition, he understands your reasons. You want to keep to yourself.

“Maybe not to someone who trains like you, but my training is completely different.” Oscar said and you hummed.

“I hear Formula 1 drivers have great reflexes.” You tile your head slightly to the side.

“I’m not a Formula 1 driver.” Oscar counters.

“Yet.” That gets a smile out of him.

“Yet.”

The nurse comes in before you could talk more, you thank her for letting you use the bandages, and leave.

Oscar later finds you in an empty classroom, with a book of advance calculus in front of you, your eyes were focused on the pages lost in your own world. And Oscar understood how no one would suspect you of saving him or of sneaking out. The smartest student in class, no friends, parties, didn’t even indulge in idle chatter.

“That’s the ghost.” Oscar looked to his friend; he had leaned over Oscar’s shoulder to see who he’s looking at. Oscar was confused, and it showed because his friend went on to then say. “She’s always there in class, knows everything before the teachers even explain, and disappears as soon as the class ends.”

It seemed to both you and Oscar that you were both everywhere. When you’re studying in the library, he’s there escaping from Saddie and her entourage. Oscar would pull up the chair across from you and sit down to study, you’d glance up before going back to your books. And then one day he had a question he couldn’t answer so then you started explaining it to him, that turned to you always helping him in all the things he either missed or just didn’t get.

You’ve never done that with anyone before, but unlike most if not all your classmates, Oscar is calm and collected. Something you didn’t expect from him at first. But other than the library you didn’t spend time together, you just met there and after your study session both would go their own ways. Oscar would go to the gym and you’d sneak out to train or train in your room. There was never any further talk about the night you met, and you were thankful for that.

Whenever Oscar spotted you around campus he tried not to stare, not to bring any unwanted attention towards you. He knew that you liked to stay as far away from the spotlight as you could. And he respected that about you, unlike many in school you loved to keep to yourself.

One evening Oscar was walking around campus, he walked in a section that rarely anyone went towards, he wanted to have time to think to himself. The night was silent, and calm, the weather was nice. It was only because it was so silent that Oscar heard it the sound of soft grunting and movement. Feeling compelled to follow the sound he walked around the storage shed. And there he saw you, you were focused, your movement fluid and precise as you practiced a series of strikes and kicks. Each punch, each kick seemed to release stress and energy, that you kept hidden the rest of the time.

Oscar started to feel awkward from just standing there for a few minutes, he took a step closer hoping not to startle you. You noticed him immediately, lowering your fists and meeting his gaze, clearly surprised.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, breathing heavily.

“I... I was just walking around.” Oscar tried to smile and seem as un-creepy as he could. “And then I heard you, and I got curious.”

“Oh, didn’t realise I was being loud.” You said and pushed your hair out of your face. “Are you still curious?”

“I am.” Oscar chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean you did save me, and that made me curious to see how good you are.”

You thought about his words, he already knows what you do, and he’s seen you out of school. After a moment you gestured for him to a few boxes nearby.

“Well, if you’re going to watch, you might as well sit down.” Oscar follows your orders and sits down; you return to practicing. Oscar being a detail-oriented person started to notice all the small things. He noticed how you balanced on your toes before delivering a powerful kick, how each moved was delivered with precision. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’re skilled, it’s clear to him that you’re not an amateur, this isn’t just for fun.

After a while you took your water bottle and went and sat next to Oscar. “So, do you think it’s weird or strange?”

“No, not at all.” He shook his head. “It’s impressive, I didn’t know you could do all that.”

“It just… helps me clear my head.” You said and took a sip from your water. “Plus it helps me save guys coming back from racing.”

Oscar smiles and lets out a chuckle. “But you have training, like with a coach and everything, right?”

“Yeah, I have two actually, since I do both Parkour and Muayi Thai.” You tell him and he looks impressed. “Don’t look so shocked, Mr. Future Formula 1 driver.”

“It’s not for certain.” Oscar shrugged; you bump your shoulder with his.

“I’m a 100% sure you will.” Oscar saw you smile for the first time, and he has to admit that he liked it. You continued talking for a bit before you had to go back to your dorms.

And so after that it was either the library or the spot behind the storage shed where you’d meet up with Oscar. You may have liked him, and he may have liked you. Yet neither of you made a move or said anything.

As the semester came to an end you both didn’t know this will be the last time you met each other. And it’s your timidness that you both didn’t ask each other for the other’s phone number. You had a competition during the summer that you came first then, and so your parents and you both felt like you needed to go to another school, where you’d be closer to where your new coaches are if you want to go pro in the future.

That’s how you lost contact with Oscar. You thought of him often as did he, but the chance has passed you both by. You’d look him up and see him winning races and championships climbing the ranks and getting closer and closer to reach Formula 1.

Oscar too decided to look you up one day after Hattie (his sister) insisted he do so, saying he won’t lose anything anyways, and Oscar saw that Red Bull signed you. You’ve gone pro, he followed you on Instagram and you did too, however you both had a lot of followers to check who followed you and who didn’t.

Even though time went on and years passed, you remember the best time at school being the year that you and Oscar became friends. He’s been your only friend from school, you had many others from training but he’s the one through school. You always cheered him on, and when you saw him get the McLaren seat, you DM-ed him a congrats, but never got an answer back, knowing he probably got flooded with messages.

Oscar kept up with your career, he saw you win a world title in parkour and almost win one in Muay Thai, it was close, you came in second. He was proud of you either way, he knew for certain you’d win one day.

When your manager contacted you and told you Red Bull were doing some promotions, and you’d get to see the team in another sport, you jumped at the chance to go to a Formula 1 race. And luck would have it that they agreed. So here you are in Japan invited to the paddock for a weekend of racing. You were introduced to Max and Checho and you were set to film some things with them on Media Day.

And that’s how you ended up in a car with the 3 times world champion on a hot lap. Did you scream? Define screaming. You squealed and you gasped, that was a fact, but I mean Max didn’t really have to break so late. He also didn’t have to laugh at you.

“I’d like to see you laughing in a ring.” You told him after he stopped the car and laughed at your hand clutching the seats.

“Is it bad I think I’ll be able to hold my own?” Max asked and you laughed, patting his shoulder.

“It’s like me saying I can hold my own racing you.” You tell him and he nods along.

It isn’t long before you’re out of the car and filming a challenge, let’s say the Red Bull boys aren’t really that flexible. It was a lot of fun you have to admit, and yet you didn’t get a single glance of the papaya driver.

Practice day came and you had more time to wonder around and do your own thing. The good thing is you weren’t a well-known sportswoman, so you weren’t bothered by anyone. Walking around you saw someone you knew, which was a surprise to you.

“Lilly!” You called to the golfer; she turned and saw you. She smiled and waved at you, walking closer you both shared a hug in greeting. “What are you doing here?”

“Me? What are you doing here?” She asked with a laugh, you both met at a sporting even a year or so back and spent a lot of time talking. “My boyfriend Alex is driving for Williams.”

“Oh shoot, right, you told me.” You felt stupid for forgetting, but to be fair you had been super busy.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, Red Bull invited me, some promotion for the team’s different sports.” You told her, and she aah-ed, it made sense. “But we filmed everything yesterday, so I have time to do as I like today.”

“Good, stick with me then.” She locked your hands together and you followed her down the paddock to a café or sorts, where she greeted two other girls. “Girls this is y/n, a Red Bull Parkour champion and a Muay Thai runner up. y/n, this is Rebecca and Carmen.”

You all greet each other before they invite you to sit down, you learn who they’re dating, they ask you about the sports you do. The girls were all nice and welcoming, they found that you already have knowledge of Formula 1 and weren’t just invited here for the heck of it, even if it didn’t matter when you were asked to attend.

After a while Carlos dressed in his Ferrari team kit came by and following him was a man dressed in Papaya. Your heart skipped a beat before you realised it’s not the person you were hoping to see. Lilly saw the look on your face and nudged you slightly.

“Are you okay?” She lowered her voice; you nodded with a smile.

“Yeah just…” You didn’t know if you should tell her or not. It’s been years since you saw Oscar last, you don’t know if he even remembers you or not. Would it seem childish? “I went to school with Oscar and-“

“You went to school with Oscar!” Lilly exclaimed and you stared at her wide eyed, she places her hand on mouth shocked at her own reaction. It was too late though because the other people at the table heard her.

“You went to school with Oscar?” Lando asked interested, you nodded. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“y/n y/l/n, I do Parkour and Muay Thai.” You say with a smile and put your hand out for him to shake, he does and Carlos as well.

“A Red Bull world champion.” Lilly adds, Lando looks at the pass around your neck seeing it’s from Red Bull.

“Huh, another Red bull champion.” He commented.

“How well did you know Oscar?” Carmen asked curiously.

“Well, we were friends for a year, but we were very close until I changed schools, and we lost contact.” You told the group, the girls all felt bad for you.

“I’m sure Lando can help you.” Carlos said turning to his friend. You all looked at Lando, he looked at all of you before sighing.

“Fine, but if this is a plot from Red Bull to steal information, I’m blaming you all.” Lando pointed at his friend and the girlfriends, the girls were just amused, and Carlos rolled his eyes. Lando turned to you. “Come on, before he hops in the car.” Lando gestures for you to follow him which you do.

“Take a video!” Rebecca shouted and Lando rolled his eyes but raised a thumps up.

“I’m really not a Red Bull spy, if that’s what you’re scared of.” You tried to reassure the McLaren driver, who after a moment of silence spoke.

“I know, sorry, just a tense season.” You nodded in understanding.

“It’s all right, I know what you mean. Balancing rivalries while you’re competing and not is hard.” You smile at Lando to show him you didn’t take offence to what he said or his attitude.

“I’m starting to believe you’re friends with Oscar more.” You let out a laugh at that.

You silently followed Lando through the paddock and to the McLaren garage. He asked a few people for Oscar’s location, and you still just followed. Turning a corner you saw an orange 81 on a broad back, the fireproofs sticking to his body.

“Hey Osc, there’s someone here to see you.” Lando had his phone opened to video, it was aimed at Oscar.

Oscar turned and saw Lando, his brow furrowed, before he turned to look at you. There was a moment of silence, Oscar just took you in.

“y/n.” He said simply and you smiled, he recognised you, didn’t forget who you were.

“Hey, Oscar.”

Taglist:

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn . @eywas-heir . @glow-ish . @lilypat . @directioner5life .

251 notes · View notes

aajjks · 2 days ago

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Only you, Forever me (m)

warnings: yàndèrè thèmès, mástrúbátíón, 18+ thèmès, únhèàlthy fèèlíngs, tóxíc fríend, dàrk thèmès, èxtrèmè jèàlóúsy, mànípùlàtíón, nèw OC!

note. MY LATEST OCCCCCCC!!!? we all need a toxic best friend in life especially a fictional one because the real ones just suck so here he is… I THINK YOU’RE GONNA LIKE HIM TALK TO HIM!!!!!? HEHE

Yandere male best friend who is really possessive of your friendship.

Yandere male best friend who will sabotage every single one of your other friendships just so you will be, and he will be your only friend.

Yandere male best friend who has a possessive streak and he’s really possessive of you as his best friend. You’re his favorite friend.

Yandere male best friend who is really social in contrast to you and he has a large circle of friends, but he’s always hanging out with you.

Like, as said before, he’s really attached to you, yandere male best friend who is borderline obsessed with spending time with you.

Yandere male best friend who has a few issues and he comes from a very rich background, he’s a spoiled and catered to. He expects everyone to fall to his feet and bend to his will.

Yandere male best friend who loves gossiping with you and he will tell you everything that is going on in your campus and in his family

Yandere male best friend who is really protective of you and you’re the only female friend he has, he just loves your company so much. He loved it so much that he will come over to your house at 3 AM.

Whenever he has a fight with his parents, and whenever they don’t give him what he wants, he comes to you when he will rant to you FOR HOURS.

Yandere male best friend who is frankly really handsome, gorgeous even, those green eyes of his are mesmerizing and he knows it

Yandere male best friend who doesn’t like to get into relationships, he fucks around, gets his dick wet and then he’s back to you. Bút his latest fuck buddy notices his infatuation with you.

Yandere male best friend who is a really bratty person, his parents will do anything for him and he knows that. He’s a carbon copy of his mother’s personality.

Yandere male best friend who gives you a lot of gifts and gets you the most expensive stuff like it’s nothing, yandere male best friend who helps you with your rent because you’re broke and he doesn’t mind

Yandere male best friends who just wants you to stay over at his house 24/7 because you make him feel so different and he really likes that feeling

Yandere male best friend who is always walking with you and being with you that everyone thinks that you’re dating him, and he loves that.

Yandere male best friend who cries easily when he doesn’t get his way, especially he manipulates you like it’s breathing

He knows that you’re him and that you have a really soft spot for him

Yandere male best friend who sabotage all of your potential relationships and crushes.

Yandere male best friend who expects you to be available for him 24/7

Yandere male best friend who is completely infatuated with you, you’re on his mind and he’s thinking about you every single passing moment

Yandere male best friend will always be your best friend he will never let anyone take his place,

Yandere male best friend who gets constant boners whenever you bite your lip, or just look at him with your intense gaze.

Yandere male best friend who has to excuse himself and spend hours in the campus bathroom to jerk off furiously, he wants you to suck his cock like you want to suck his soul.

“nhhh fuckkkk yn….. shit… you get me so hot… I wish I had your mouth on me instead of my own damn hand.”

Yandere male best friend who never misses a single day of school so he can spend more and more time with you and sometimes..

Yandere male best friend who just wants to fuck you for hours. Who wants to bury his face in your wet cunt and your huge tits.

Because you don’t care about your dressing when you’re with him, you probably feel comfortable enough with him to not wear a bra, but he notices everything.

And Goodness, it’s fucking torture.

“I need you so fuckin bad but I can never tell you.”

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vrystalius · 2 days ago

Note

AAAAJAJA I LOVE UOURR BLOGGG AND HOW YOU ENVISION EACH CHARACTERS XDD may I pretty please make a request for angst/fluff hcs on female human reader, who’s very insecure, paired with the upper moon trio and Muzan?Whether it’s about her looks, or that she feels like they don’t genuinely love her (esp since they are demons and she’s a human, so what’s stopping them from leaving/killing her and dating other demons instead(˃̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣ )

Insecurity

What stops your demon s/o to get bored of you one day and eat you? What if they’re only pretending to love you? And what will your partner do to fight those insecurities?

Pairing: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Muzan x gn!reader

Kokushibo

He is taking your insecurities very seriously. Kokushibo knows and felt it himself plenty, during both his demon and human years. Despite that, his “comfort” and “reassurance” methods are quite unique. Your husband will not react immediately to your feelings, rather being more quiet and reserved than usual, wich at first makes you doubt yourself even more. Perhaps he is finally realising that he is much better off with another human or even demon… Although you started to notice how Kokushibo was hovering around you more and more. Silently, but he was still there, watching you while you go on with your day. You could be doing some mundane task like cooking yourself a meal and he would be standing behind you, not noticing how intimidating he is being right now.

In his mind, Kokushibo was showing more interest in you. He believed that you felt insecure about him not being around you enough or paying attention to you, instead being out on missions or training. So, now he’s watching you everyday all day, trying to show you through his ways that he cares about you and cherishes you very much. Once he finally notices how he is achieving nothing but making you confused or intimidating, Kokushibo begins to show affection more openly, although it felt forced at first.

His calloused hand would slowly slip into yours, intertwining fingers while he was meditating, or him holding you close to his body while you napped or slept on his chest, spending the precious and scarce nighttime with showering you in affection while you were resting, not even aware about how he was trying to show his love in his own way.

“I’ll stay for the night, I asked that man to give the other Upper Moons any of my remaining missions. I’d rather spend my time with you.”

Kokushibo is silently worrying about not being good enough for you. Although he is Upper Moon One, wouldn’t a human want to marry another human and start a family? What stops you from leaving him? He will not stop or hurt you when you choose to do so, he would completely understand.

Douma

You immediately saw Douma’s face shift into the expression he gives to all his followers once they start speaking about their woes, while you were trying to explain to him how you were feeling. You silenced yourself the second the pity-tinged smile appeared on your face, knowing that he is not listening or acknowledging your feelings in any way. He told you times before how he feels exhausted when listening to his followers whine and cry about their problems while Douma barely cares, giving them the usual advice. Talking about your insecurities will definitely not work with Douma, so you’ll have to resort to other things to make him listen. Ignoring him is a not very nice way to do it, but at least he’ll start to wonder why you are not around.

He notices immediately when you stop being near him. You’re not sitting by his side during sermons, you’re not in your shared bedroom and the followers commented about how you were seemingly avoiding the Founder. That’s when it finally clicks, you were talking about not feeling enough for him and being insecure about yourself earlier, right? Once Douma chased you down (and persuaded you to leave the garden and step into the shade with him so you two can have a conversation without him needing to yell all over the estate), he theatrically kissed the palm of your hand and kept apologising over and over, almost nervously trying to explain how much he loves you and how irreplaceable you truly are to him and his heart.

You are the first human, first being he felt emotions for. Happiness, sadness, anger, jealousy and most importantly love— all the beautiful and unpleasant feelings, Douma began feeling them because of you!

To prove his point in a way, he introduced you to all the unimpressed Upper Moons and his master as “the love of his life”, his wife, his life partner, soulmate and so on and on, mentioning many other petnames until Muzan finally silenced him. Douma invites you to sit right beside him during sermons, instead of having your own cushion, keeping you closer and having the opportunity to openly shower you in affection. He sometimes sends out followers to pick up flowers for you in the garden and then presents then to you as if he picked them out himself, acting like the sun wasn’t out for the last hours, making it not possible for him to get those flowers for you. You appreciate it nonetheless.

“I have an idea! How about we hold an official wedding ceremony with all my followers! We cab invite my other friends too! Ohh, Akaza can be my best man, imagine how that could be, haha!”

Even if Douma is rather comical and theatrical, deep down inside, he is rather afraid of you getting sick of him one day. He knows he can keep his followers charmed and close, but his speeches and charms do not work on you. You see right through him and know the true person, or demon, he is. He is insecure himself because why would you stay with a man-eating demon? Once you mentioned your own thoughts and feelings, he took it as an opportunity to prove that he does cherishes and loves you so, so incredibly much.

Akaza

You… You seriously think that you are not good enough? Not pretty or strong enough? Seriously?

You are the best thing that ever happened and will happen to him. You are patient with him snd so kind, so gentle and affectionate. You heal his soul and now you are talking about being replaceable? He feels incredibly horrible for making you feel so terrible about yourself.

Akaza tries to be more obvious about his feelings for you, trying to reassure you how beautiful you look or saying “I love you” more often, taking your smaller hand into his, nuzzling his cheek in your warm palm. He gets much more touchy, trying to get you to cuddle more and more so he can relish in your warmth and bask in your arms. His time with you is scarce, especially with how Muzan keeps drowning him in more and more exhausting missions that keep him away from you (and sometimes it feels like his master is doing it on purpose), that’s why his eyes do not leave your form for even one second, sometimes quietly mumbling “I love you” against your warm skin, his lips placing kisses between his muffled words.

“There’s no one else I want by my side, bunny. You make me feel warm, fuzzy… safe, y’know. It’s weird but nice. You should feel like that too.. you deserve it.”

Akaza sometimes notices how disgustingly desperate he sounds to comfort and reassure you. It made him cringe once he realised how hard he fell for you, how much he clung onto you and how desperately he craved your love, your touch. Once you start talking about your insecurities about your beauty, self-worth and so on, he realises how much he appreciates you more and more. You’re the most beautiful human he ever came across, you’re heaven-sent. Is it selfish of him to think of you as a blessing from the gods themselves?

Muzan Kibutsuji

He was very perplexed when he first listened to you talking about being insecure, not quite understanding how you out of all people feel replaceable and not enough for the demon king. How could you think such things? Do you not understand how vulnerable he is with you without an audience? At first, he’d dismiss your worries for you just being confused or not feeling well, but a little after a day after your initial conversation, the gears inside his five brains begin to shift and work again. At that moment, he finally realised what you really meant.

Muzan didn’t want to be more affectionate with you, mistaking love with weakness, but after finally realising how you needed the reassurance from him, he begrudgingly gave into his fears of appearing soft and began to show his love more openly.

The demon king began to shower you in various gifts that mark you as his partner, such as a necklace with a ruby matching his eye colour, multiple rings he owns himself so you two can match and an artificial flower crown for you to wear as his soulmate and in a cute way to show off your “royal status” as the partner of Muzan.

“You are the one and only for me, and I am the only one for you. If the gods exist, they have blessed me with merely meeting you in your lifetime�� it would be a pity to let it expire so soon. I will happily give you my blood if you’d like, my sun.”

💠

I am back with the Upper Moons, I hope you don’t mind if I changed the female reader to gn, anon! I felt like I wrote a lot of fem reader lately so I wanted to switch it up again. I wonder if it’s obvious wich demon is my favourite XD Anyways— I’m heading to bed now, I an exhausted :,)

Make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

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theitgirlnetwork · 2 days ago

Text

What Are You Willing To Do?

Ch. 2: Date 1 Pt. 1

Note: Thank you so much for the love you all have been showing this story so far! Thank you for reading, and for the kinds messages I have received thus far! I love interacting and seeing your thoughts and comments so keep 'em coming. I want to take this time to remind you that these characters will be flawed. Rafe is....Rafe, but we love him anyway. And Milan is...someone who is compatible with Rafe. They won't always be the depiction of a healthy relationship, but this is fiction and fun. This chapter isn't too bad, but those who have read the snippet know how it's gonna get. Once again, I have songs for this ship so if anyone is interested in them let me know, and feel free to share some with me if you catch a vibe. Finally, let me know if you have any questions or comments. Other than that, I hope you enjoy. This one is a lot shorter than chapter 1, but it is a 2 parter, so don't hate me. Love ya! <3333

“Wait.”

Rafe pauses, loosening his grip on Milan’s hair and pulling back slightly, irritated that she’d stopped him just as their lips brushed and she breathed the smoke he’d just poured into her mouth between them. “What? What’s up?”

“I don’t,” She sighs, her cool breath on his face, eyes still shut as if she’s forcing herself to pause this moment between them. “I don’t just hook up with guys, you know? Maybe we could…I dunno.”

Oh. Oh. Rafe understands. He’d…he’d forgotten himself for a moment. This isn’t some touron stumbling onto the couch next to him, throwing herself at him. She wasn’t one of those gold digging bitches that tries to fuck him with faulty condoms in the bottom of her purse. She’s the kind of girl who has her own shit. She doesn’t need him for a come up. Or at least she doesn’t think she does.

He arrogantly thinks to himself that Milan hasn’t met a man like Rafe Cameron. He’s spent most of his life preparing, becoming the type of man that can run his family, keep them safe and comfortable. The type of son fathers are proud to have and the type of man women want to give a baby. That’s the man who he’s made himself be.

Rafe had been so focused, only allotting himself time for a little bit of fun once in a while, he’d forgotten that one day he might stumble across a girl that had the potential to be a woman. His woman.

He nods slowly, a small smile forming on his face as he pulls back more, releasing her head completely and smoothing his hand back onto her knee. “Nah, I get it. We should get to know each other a little better. How ‘bout you spend the day with me tomorrow?”

Milan perches herself up at that, back straightening even more as her face lights up. “Really? You wanna spend the day with me?”

Rafe rests his head back on the top of the couch, sweeping his thumb on her bottom lip before biting his own and nodding. “Yeah, I wanna show you a good time. Get you a little more comfortable with me so I can kiss those pretty lips of yours.”

Both sets.

“Okay, wait, I’m excited. You’re gonna be my first friend here.”

“Friend?” Rafe scoffs. “‘M’not gonna be your friend, Princess.”

“Well,” Milan shrugs, “Like, I don’t know what I could call you, you’re not my man-”

“Yet. Not your man yet.” He and the woman next to him share twin smiles and Rafe only becomes more invigorated by Milan’s eyeroll and shy grin. “Roll your eyes if you want to, I’m a determined guy.”

“Determined?”

“Yeah, like I know what I like, I work for what I want, so-”

“So what?” Milan giggles, “You…you want me? I should get ready or something?”

“Yeah.” Rafe says flippantly, as if he wasn’t essentially making a threat of courtship to a girl he’d just met like 12 hours before. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d fully wanted from her yet. But the need to have her was nagging at him. Maybe it was lust. She was hot, forbidden fruit for him. He could hear the curses Ward would spit at him now if he fucked around and ruined things with this girl, made an enemy of her dad. Maybe it was how sweet she seems. He’s always liked shiny, new things. When he was a kid, he had to have stuff before his friends did. Toys. Shoes. Stocks. Maybe he’s graduated to feeling that way about women.

Something about how he doesn’t want to look away. Something about the way she was smiling at him, how he’s talked to her the most, how in a room full of guys drooling over her, those big pretty eyes were locked on him. Rafe felt like he had to look into this weird feeling she’s been stirring in his chest since he’d seen her.

It’s what’s best for Milan anyway. None of the rest of these limp dick motherfuckers should have her. They’re not real men. Not like Rafe.

Milan hums as she removes the golden under eye patches from under her eyes, massaging in the serum they leave atop of her skin. Grimacing at a gust of damp wind from outside she pads against the marble floor of her bathroom and pushes the double doors leading to the patio attached closed. “Stupid, island humidity.” She pouts as she combs through her bob again, praying for no puffiness today.

The sky fights to brighten in the early morning. It’s 5:00 a.m. and Rafe Cameron was going to be picking her up in 30 minutes.

After the party last night Sarah had run over to her on the front lawn, hugging her tightly before declaring she was going home with John B. and offering for Milan to come with them. When she declines with a smile, the blonde fixes her brother with a glare, to which he’d returned with a middle finger, and stumbled off in her man’s arms.

Rafe drove Milan back to her house and parked them out front, eyes carefully rotating between staring at Milan sitting pretty in his passenger seat, and watching for a sign of her father at the door. He let her toy with his fingers as she fluttered her lashes at him and he described what he does throughout the day, Or, rather, what they’d be doing today.

When he’d mentioned picking her up after the gym Milan had jumped at the opportunity to go with him. She loved going to the gym every morning before she’d moved and she was happy to keep it going. And it wouldn’t hurt to see Rafe work out.

It was all she could think about. It’s not just his height. Even though he’s so…so tall. At least 6’2. Rafe is big. Muscle. Strength. Yesterday he’d basically hoisted her full weight into his truck with one arm. The preppy boy polo that he’d thrown on for their families hadn’t hidden anything and his tight crew neck that he wore to the party basically outlined everything for her.

She quite literally wanted him to throw her around like a ragdoll. Or let her climb him like a tree. Whatever, Rafe is hot.

He has an intense vibe, seemingly takes himself very seriously. But, Milan figures she could relax him. Loosen him up a little bit.

They were gonna have so much fun. Smiling at her own reflection in the mirror, Milan spritzes vanilla Sol de Janeiro and all but fucking skips down the steps and to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Miss Milan, you’re awake early. I just started prepping for breakfast, but I could make you a coffee while you wait.” The private chef that her parents had hired a couple years ago had made the move with them. They’d paid for her to come with them to Outer Banks and offered to increase her salary because…well…it wasn’t their nice home in Quebec that she was used to.

“No, thank you, Miss Ally.” Milan reaches over, stealing a newly washed strawberry and biting into it. “And my parents aren’t awake, right?”

“Of course not. You know your mother won’t roll out of bed until she smells the food cooking and your dad won’t come until I’ve had to warm it up twice. Why? Are you alright, honey?”

The younger woman nods, tossing the green stem into the trash and reaching for two travel cups. “Can you keep a secret? I have, like, a date today.”

“Like a date?”

“Yeah, with a guy. He’s really cute, and sweet. So,” Milan begins sifting matcha, smiling down at the cup and resting her cheek on her shoulder. “‘M’gonna hang out with him today.”

“Less than 48 hours and there’s a boy, huh? Atta girl.” Miss Ally passes Milan the vanilla protein powder. “You’ve been worried about the move, thinking it was a bad idea, and here you are making friends.”

“Mhm, hot ones. With blue eyes and dimples.”

“And where,” Ally nudges Milan out of the way as she pours the hot water into the travel mug, “am I supposed to tell your parents you are when you’re out with Mr. Blue Eyes and Dimples?”

“Touring the island.” She chirps.

“With who?”

“Just like…generally. They should be cool with it honestly, I just know they’re gonna make it weird, but like, he’s the son of Dad’s first friend here so he shouldn’t be mad. How come he gets a boyfriend and I don’t?”

“Oh, just say that to your parents, I’m sure they’ll go for it then.” Ally snorts, whisking the eggs as Milan seals the travel mugs, laughing to herself as the girl slides both of the pink cups to the end of the counter next to her gym bag.

When Rafe pulls up outside of the Cabot house, he texts Milan before hopping out of his truck and jogging up the cobblestone. He agreed not to ring the doorbell because her parents were awake but he’d be damned if he didn’t pick her up at the door.

As he stands on at the doorstep he adjusts the hat he has rested on his head and rocks on his feet impatiently. He isn’t waiting long. The door swings open and he’s immediately hit with the sweet smell of vanilla and soon after is met with the walking wet dream carrying the scent.

“Good morning!” Milan grins, tossing her arms around his neck, bouncing up into his arms. Rafe isn’t fucking stupid, he’s quick to catch her around the waist and squeeze, relishing in the feeling of her pressed against him.

“Morning, princess.” he murmurs into her hair, squeezing her again for good measure before placing her back on her feet. “You, uh, you always go to the gym in shit like that?”

“Shit like what? Stop.” she laughs as he snaps the elastic of her leggings.

“You just look good. That’s all I’m sayin’.” He chews the gum in his mouth and nudges her chin with his knuckle, mumbling, “Watch your mouth.”

“Yeah? Thank you.” she grins, looking away from him briefly. “I made…I made you something, like a gym drink or whatever.

“That’s cute sweetheart, what do you like me or somethin’?” Rafe snorts, choosing to ignore the fact that the travel mug she was pushing into his hands was bubble gum pink. He holds his hand out to her, not even looking back as he starts guiding her over to his truck. When he hears a little shuffle from her he looks back and glances down at her feet. “What the fuck, your shoes aren’t tied.”

“Okay, one of them untied when I was making you this delicious protein shake and I didn’t wanna make you wait-”

“Christ.” Rafe grunts, unlocking his car and wrenching the door open, planting his hands on Milan’s waist and hoisting her into the seat easily. He tugs her foot onto his lap and begins tying the lace of her sneaker tightly. “Gonna break your fuckin’ neck.”

“I wasn’t gonna fall, Rafe-”

“You literally were letting me drag you down those steps.” When he’s done Rafe lifts her leg into the car, closing the door and walking around the driver’s side and climbing in. After he clicks his seatbelt on, he pauses and frowns when he sees Milan’s pout staring forward at the road. He puffs out a breath. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t said ‘thank you’. For your drink.”

“Wh-are you serious?”

“Yes. You seriously haven’t said ‘thank you.’”

“Uh…” Rafe’s brows furrow as he observes the girl. Arms crossed, dramatic frown on her pretty, glossed lips, knees pointed away from him. “Th-thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” she immediately warms up, clicking her own seatbelt on and taking a sip of her drink, moving back to the middle of her seat. As Rafe tries to sort through what quick, guerilla warfare he’d just experienced, he starts driving the car.

So that’s her game. She’s cute and pretty and pouts like a fuckin’ brat when she doesn’t feel like she’s getting what she wants. Or someone is saying something she doesn’t wanna hear. All she’s showing me is that I’m exactly what she needs.

“M’just sayin’ like your shirt’s a little slutty. Like it’s tight, I can see your nipples and everything.”

“Don’t say shit like that, what the fuck?”

“It’s like tight and stuff, like it’s a little bit of a hoochie shirt.”

“Hoo-hoochie shirt. Fuckin’ brat.” Rafe shakes his head. In the time it’s taken to drive to the gym and for Rafe to put his card down to get Milan a temporary membership, she’d clearly been trying to test him. She was pushing boundaries to see what he would and wouldn’t accept. And he would try to be patient. But the jokes weren’t gonna be as funny when he was using her mouth for what he really wanted to use it for. Not now. He had to wait. To humor her. She was cute. He’d give her that. Maybe he needed to be cute back. “Don’t work out in the damn shirt anyway,”

Milan’s eyes widen as she stares up at Rafe from where she’s stretching on the floor. She bites her lip and shifts her gaze to herself in the mirror as he easily tugs the tight shirt off of his chiseled muscles, tossing it into his gym bag next to her.

Jesus. She bites her lip, berating herself inwardly as she glances at the tanned skin he was now baring for the world to see, six pack on display as he starts doing some standing stretches. “Here, sweetheart.” Rafe crouches next to her, pushing one of his airpods into her ear. “You, uh, didn’t have headphones, so you can just listen to my shit.”

“Can we make a spotify jam?”

“What?”

“So, I can add songs too, can we make a jam? And we’d be listening to the same thing, at the same time, you know?”

“I mean, yeah, sure why the fuck not? You’re not gonna add any corny shit are you? M’trustin’ you with my workout. Like that’s pretty fuckin’ special.”

“Oh my God, Rafe, I’m…I’m sure we have basically the same taste in music.”

Rafe and Milan are at war for essentially their whole warm up. They agree to separate for cardio and then meet back up for them both to try some of each other’s usual workouts. With the shared music blasting in their ears, they both still felt like they were hanging out for the 40 minutes that they are apart. Rafe spent half of his run on the treadmill listening to Beyoncé and Sabrina Carpenter’s discographies while Milan genuinely flinched on the stairmaster with Travis Scott and 50 Cent pounding against her ear drums. Both of them looking at each other with sick satisfaction when it was their turn to pick a song, making a game out of picking something they thought would irritate the other more.

Rafe had finally had enough and started skipping Milan’s picks when the High School Musical Soundtrack started playing, eventually coming to pluck her off of her machine to start doing weights as Troy began singing about wanting his own dream.

By now they’d both finished their protein shakes and felt like they had a lot of energy. Well, at least they both did. Until Rafe started making Milan do his workouts.

She was both turned on and enraged as he demonstrates different forms of weightlifting, chuckling at her deeply as she struggles to do another set. “Mmkay, okay, that’s enough, I’m done with that.”

“Nah, you didn’t even finish that one, c’mon let’s go.”

“Rafe, no” she whines getting off of the bench. Milan immediately gasps as Rafe fists the fabric at the front of her leggings, lifting her off of her feet and physically placing her back onto the equipment.

Slapping her thigh, he offers her a no-nonsense look that lets her know that she isn’t getting up until she completes this workout to his satisfaction. “Baby, let’s go, stop fuckin’ around.”

Shit. Yes sir. “I want…breakfast food after this. Like, waffles, and butter and stuff.”

“'Let me come to the gym with you, Rafe. I wanna where my cute little outfit and not workout.'”

“Asshole.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Wait…until we start doing my pilates workout. All those muscles will mean…nothing.”

“Yeah, you like ‘em?” He smirks, grabbing the weight to ease it down against her before helping her off. “That your excuse? Can’t focus?”

“Stop…being mean, worst date ever.” She whines, leaning her head against his chest.

Rafe pats Milan’s ass twice before nudging her into the direction of the next machine. "Best fuckin' date of your life, brat."

“Are you gonna keep staring at my butt or are you gonna try again?” Milan calls over to Rafe.

“My body is not built for that girly shit. You keep goin’ though.” He says. Milan rolls her eyes and continues on the machine, pausing when she sees the reflection of a camera flash in the mirror. “Damn, flash was on.”

“Rafe!”

“You look good, baby. I thought you’d like me to be all sentimental and shit, capture our first date.”

“Oh my God. You’re like, not even working out at this point.”

He shrugs, tilting his head to get a better view of her. “You’re the one who got an attitude when that girl asked me to spot her and made us change floors.

“She saw you with me.” Milan hisses through her teeth, pausing her movements. “She was trying to be funny.”

“Think so?” Rafe scoffs, squirting water into his mouth from the bottle he’d kept in his bag.

“Yeah, but if you liked the attention you could go back down.”

Rafe wets his bottom lip at that. Being at the gym with Milan has been fun. Turns out, he likes talking to her, which is more than what he could say for the majority of the population. She’s sexy, and doesn’t mind him being handsy. She seemed to all but expect him to pat her ass in encouragement after she finishes anything. She likes for him to teach her, guide her movements, place her on and off of machines. She likes to whine and have him sort her out. And she’s possessive. Jealous. Normally the concept of having someone police him sounds emasculating and unacceptable to Rafe. But watching her pretty little face turn into a scowl as she watched girls check him out or come up to him like they always did in the gym? It turned him on bad.

She matched his crazy. It didn’t matter that it was their first date, the same way Rafe’s lip curled in disgust as he caught the fuckheads wandering the gym eyeing her before he stepped in their line of vision, Milan would physically place herself in front of his view, guiding his eyes to her and away from any girl delusional enough to think they were as bad as her.

But her mouth when she’s frustrated. That was something Rafe was gonna have to work on. Lucky for the both of them, a stern warning seemed to be enough for now. Rafe stalks over to where she’s sitting, stepping on the machine behind her and wrapping his hand loosely around her neck, pushing the back of her head to rest on the front of his stomach. Milan looks up at him through her lashes, as he pushes his thumb into her cheek, encouraging her to open her mouth and squirting a little water in from his water bottle. He fixes her with a disapproving look. “Chill out. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.”

“I followed you up here, right?”

“Yeah.” she says softly, leaning into his hand.

“Alright then. Let’s not worry about the wrong things.”

After 3 hours at the gym the two of them hit the showers, separately despite both of their hesitation to separate again. They walk out of the building in different clothes and Rafe’s arm strewn over Milan’s shoulder, holding her hand where it came up to meet his own. He has to hide his smirk when he catches her making eye contact with the girl who’d asked Rafe to spot her as they walked out, a bright smile on her face.

He was starting to like this pretty little thing more and more. Rafe lifts her back into the car, this time buckling her seatbelt for her before getting into the driver’s side. He finds that Milan can talk…a lot. She has jumped from topic to topic in the 15 minute drive more than Rafe thinks he can in 2 hours. He’s surprised to find he doesn’t find her annoying. Rafe finds his cheeks dimpling as he listens to her yap about her favorite tv shows, a movie she wants him to watch, her plans for her next nails set and thinking about getting highlights in her hair.

All the while she rubs his bicep, leaning into him as he holds her thigh in his large hand. He offers her small mumbles of acknowledgement to let her know he’s still listening. ‘Hm.’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Sound’s good, baby.’

“You’re not listening to me.” she sighs, looking out the window as they pull into the restaurant. “M’talkin’ too much.”

“Nah, I like that shit. I’d let you know if I’d had enough.” Rafe places his hand on the back of her headrest as he backs into the spot. “But, uh, my head’s always movin’ right? I’m thinkin’ while I listen.”

Milan watches as he shifts gears and places his truck in the middle of two spots, declaring under his breath he doesn’t want anyone ‘fuckin’ up his truck’ to justify taking up two spots. “So…okay. What’re you, like, thinking about? While you’re listening to me.”

“Uh, honestly?” He asks. Intense blue eyes rest on soft brown ones. Milan just nods, turning more toward him. “How fuckin’ hot you are. Pretty fuckin’ distracting.”

“Oh.” She says.

“Yeah. Oh. Does that throw you off or something, like, oh is a weird response-”

“No, I was just saying oh, like-”

“Okay, because, I’m being pretty fuckin’ clear and you’re-”

Milan unclips her seatbelt quickly. Before Rafe can blink her soft lips are pressed against his and before he can kiss her back she’s back in her seat, pulling down the mirror and fumbling in her purse for her lipgloss. “I wasn’t supposed to kiss you until our first date was over. I can’t believe I did that. Oh my God.” Rafe chuckles lowly as she fumbles in her purse, dropping it and spilling its contents all over her lap and the floor of the car. “Oh my God.”

“Did you, uh,” He pauses, trying not to openly bark out a laugh at her, scratching his head. “Did you only bring lip gloss and perfume? Like, no wallet. At all.”

“Okay…” Milan starts slowly, “I understand that looks bad, and like, people believe in that 50-50 stuff now, and so I shouldn’t-”

“Baby, the fuck do I look like? I wouldn’t be taking you out if I couldn’t afford to, I’m not a fuckin’ pogue.”

“A what?”

“Don’t worry about it. And don’t worry about that fuckin’ peck, that wasn’t a real kiss.” It shocks her how easy it is for Rafe to scoot his chair back and pull her into his lap. “This is the shit you should worry about.”

Rafe Cameron pulls Milan Cabot into the nastiest kiss that either of them had ever fantasized about, let alone experienced. He holds her jaw, working his own open as he pushes his tongue into her mouth, swallowing her whimpers and humming against her. He separates their mouths briefly to kiss down her neck only to drag back up to her lips, chuckling darkly when she sucks his bottom lip into her mouth, gripping her thigh with his free hand as he drools into her open mouth.

When he pulls away for the final time he rests his head back on the headrest, pushing his thumb into her mouth and releasing a breath as he watches her obediently suck on it.

By the time they step out of the car to head into the nice breakfast restaurant he’d brought her to, Rafe had willed his…friend to go down, and they had undone the damage he’d done to Milan’s makeup and hair. As he guided her in by the waist, tugging down the hem of her pretty little dress to cover the ass he’d just been gripping he felt a feeling of superiority. The woman next to him was relying on him and him alone to lead her around. All the loser fuckers they passed on the way to their table could stare all they wanted. They could take a mental picture and store it away in their sick little spank banks for later until they came to the realization they’d never get a girl like Milan and finally blew their fucking brains out. But she was here with Rafe. And that’s how he expected it to be from here on out.

He’d decided. She was gonna be his.

#oc #love #obx #outerbanks #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe x reader #romance #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe x oc #rafe cameron x oc #milan cabot #what are you willing to do?

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underwaterspiderbird · 2 days ago

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look in the media literacy mirror fuckwad, and no trolling here, i mean every word with unfathomable sincerity. the jedi literally other and vilify anybody who doesn’t agree with them, justifying their genocide with “they’re an evil abomination! they would’ve harmed ppl if we didn’t invade and kill them.” just like the catholics, AND buddhists, and any other organized religion.

pulling the nuh uh card and playing dumb to that just makes you look like a complete doofus thinking you did something when everybody’s wondering who even invited you.

the jedi are a systemically dominant cult, not a valid group of ppl, all of their ppl come from “dark & unnatural” families who’s they glorified tore them from & told them the way they are is bad & wrong “but its okay bc the jedi will fix them”. if they didn’t glorified kidnap kids under the pretense of their family’s consent they wouldn’t have any members. literally a high control religion that exists only to preserve their hive-minded status quos. not beating those allegations.

idc what any poindexter ass definition says, not a genocide. if the jedi didn’t steal & brainwash “dark & unholy” children & then throw them away when they don’t mold to their box, they wouldn’t have any members to kill. the jedi are not a valid group of ppl, they’re a romanticized cult. are the members who died victims of circumstance? absolutely. is it a genocide? fuck no. if anything, they slowly killed themselves every moment they stayed in the jedi & melted away their brain trying to force themselves into being something they’re not. not sorry.

and the sith are not based on nazis, they never were. that’s a lie, it was palpatine’s empire that was based on nazis, which is entirely separate from the sith & basically just palpatine’s excuse to jerk himself off like trump & use the term sith as a justifying shield for doing so. just like the jedi in their “galactic peace”. if anything, the jedi are more nazi like than the sith could ever be, they’re just sneakier about it & hide behind a halo.

sure there’ve always been fuckin’ weirdos in the sith, like ANY group of ppl but their core beliefs are about personal freedom and self-empowerment. not nazism. weird mfs/bad apples just take those concepts and use them as an excuse to be jackasses for every greater majority of sensible sith focused on survival. it is what it is, & all you can control is what you do.

sith concepts themselves are genuinely great. all i learned from the jedi is that my feelings & who i am as a person are bad and wrong & that i “need their saving”. sith taught me to finally love myself & stand up for my world & existence. the sith are bigger symbols of hope & freedom to me than the jedi ever claimed to be.

for the millionth time, the sith are not nazis. they never were and never will be. far from it. the very first sith were former jedi who broke away because they didn’t agree with their dogma, which the jedi didn’t like so they threw away the “filthy heretics” like moldy leftovers. if you really cared about fascism & oppression you’d see how much the jedi are like catholics & nazis themselves, even beyond their veneer of “peaceful monks”. idk if you know this but the jedi are known liars; they’ve had the systemic power to lie & do whatever they want for eons and in that respect, are even worse than the sith.

in other words, you’re the media illiterate one here. you’re the sad one here. you’re the one who doesn’t know what they’re talking about. not us. you. have a drink, hit your bong, whatever you gotta to cope with that & get over it.

nobody likes explaining to you weirdos why shit in fact stinks & having a different point of view from you doesn’t make us “fascists” or “genocidal” or whatever other word’s hot that day. you’re the weird church kid in school that tells all the non believers they’re gonna burn in hell for all eternity & then cries “persecution” when met with consequence. fuck off 🖕🏼

order 66 was NOT a genocide. you can only genocide people & cultures, you can’t genocide a systemically deified super-religion that wants everyone in existence to either agree with them & exist their way or burn in hell for eternity. any decent ppl who went down with the purge forfeit their lives down the drain along with their family, home & very sense of self. they. had. it. fucking. coming.

from an indigenous person, fuck y’all for even comparing order 66 to genocide & talking all over survivors of real genocides to save face for your evangelical faith & the people you think are good guys. you are not about to disrespect the continent-sized OCEANS of blood that make up our ancestors & loved ones who were lost to real genocide. fuck off.

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fandoms-in-law · 3 days ago

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Ophelia's Son: What Will Grow?

Summary: The kids test what plants grow on Steve's head and a couple of old friends discover his new flowers.

Follows on from Ophelia's Son and Smoking

“Here’s some sunflowers for my Sunflower.” Eddie called, letting himself and the kids that had bugged him for a lift into Steve’s house.

It took a moment for Steve to come to greet them, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “So they told you about wanting to test what grows?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes we did. And we’ve got plenty of other flowers and plants to try as well.” Max agreed, holding her arms out, full of plants and behind her the rest of the kids had them too, except for Dustin who held a notebook and was currently looking over Lucas’s offering of plants.

Steve looked over at them all, hands going to his hips and clearly judging them. “How big do you think my head is? Those are not all going to fit today.” He stated, eyes narrowing when Dustin flipped back a few pages, clearly ready to explain some plan he had, “Eddie’s sunflowers get first priority.”

“That doesn’t make sense! They’re huge! They should go last so we can get as many smaller plants tested as we like.” Dustin immediately argued.

“Eddie, please will you add as many sunflowers as you like?” Steve asked sweetly, turning away from the kids and kneeling so Eddie could add them more easily.

Eddie grinned at him, sticking his tongue out at the chorus of protests the action received. “Thanks Darling. I hope they do grow. They suit you more than daisies.”

“I hope so too.” Steve smiled, although he knew he was probably going to be kneeling or sat on the floor for the rest of the day as Dustin tried to insist on how the kids plants were added while the rest jostled together to ensure all of there are done.

Steve had already decided that no matter what grew he would be forcing Dustin and Max to weed his head later, after deciding which ones that grew could stay.

“The hell is going on with your head, Harrington?” The call had Steve turning from where he’d been reshelving some videos.

Family Video had been mostly quiet that day so he hadn’t worried about going back to the counter after Robin had greeted the last person to come in, but now he saw Carol and Tommy staring at him in confusion. “I think flower crowns are fantastic, don’t you?” He said, certain it was something to do with the plants growing that shocked them.

Carol’s eyebrows shot up, “Sure, they can be cute, but that disaster of a combination? Daisies and sunflowers could work but dandelions? Mint? That looks like fucking parsley. You must have more sense of landscaping than to combine those. It looks like a disaster.” She reached to his hair and was pushing flowers around as she spoke. “Who insulted you by giving you this crown?”

Behind them he could hear Robin start laughing, and smirked back at them, “It was a bit of an experiment. We’re sorting out a better looking crown for next time.”

“Let’s help with that then.” Tommy decided, reaching past Carol to yank at some of the plants.

The action caused Steve’s hand to shoot up, straight past them, and he hummed, wondering if there was a flower that pulling would lead to him punching someone. “They took root. Best not to yank them out unless I want them gone. I said we’re planning a better looking one already.”

Carol blinked rapidly at him, while Tommy scoffed, “You’re that empty headed? I know you were too dumb for college but seriously? Your head is just good for hair and flowers?”

“None of that’s accurate, you know that?” Steve kept his tone mild, partly because it would annoy Tommy more, but mostly to appear as if he was trying to keep their interaction pleasant. “Also, I think you both need to wash your hands like right now.”

“Why?” Carol’s tone was derisive but curious too. “And I’ve only heard gossip of some Addams freaks or their cousins managing what you’re claiming those plants have done.”

Steve shrugged. “There’s some poisons growing in there. I know Dustin mentioned foxglove and belladonna so just to avoid poisoning yourselves when you eat it’s better to wash your hands soon.” He didn’t react to the comment about the Addams family. As curious as he might be over how she’d heard rumours about them he wasn’t in the mood to listen to the level of scorn they would likely be shared with.

Tommy froze, eyes narrowed at Steve’s head for a moment before turning, “Fuck you Harrington. You should have led with wearing poisons.” He called, not waiting to see if Carol followed him as he left.

“If you are somehow connected to the Addams’s, I want to know how their tea is made. It’s meant to be good for smooth skin.” She demanded.

“Haven’t asked, wouldn’t know. Go wash your hands.” Steve dismissed with a cold smile.

She did so with a huff, and Robin was soon to come over, ruffling his flowers. “That’s a lie, right? About the poisons.”

“Yes. El, Max and Dustin had brought them but I insisted on no handling of poisons without gloves and they hadn’t brought those. I think they’ve got plans for a second experiment including them though.” He sighed, frustrated at having his head further messed up by uglier plants. “At least the foxglove has decent flowers, I guess.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steddie #dustin henderson #1960s addams family #tommy hagan #carol perkins #flower crowns #max mayfield

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solar4seekstron · 3 days ago

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I have a funny little one for TFA so we all know how bumblebee is like the smallest bot compared to everyone right so what if he had a conjux or crush that was smaller than him like he teases them and stuff but still loves affection to them (if you make them femme that be great if not gn is good too 👍)

That’s so cute I’ll definitely give it a try. And the reason I do GN is because I want all different genders to enjoy my work. Male, Nonbinary, and Female lol.

TFA!Bumblebee x Cybertronian!GN!Reader Oneshot: Smaller

TW/Tags: Just Bee being best boi.

Bee has been a part of Team Prime for a pretty good while. He joined because he wished to stick with his pal Bulkhead. And his lovely Conjunx. A small but well built and pretty strong he was able to get to become his Conjunx by pure luck, at least that’s what he yelled himself. Joins them as well.

Someone he just asked out one day at the academy and ever since then. You both never separated. Even despite many other short bots like wasp and the twins who tried to court you.

Good thing too. Going with Bee is the best choice you could’ve ever made. He always made you smile and brought you cheer even when you were supposed to be mad at him. You always stood up for him and comforted him. He always made sure to be affectionate with you. Like holding you and giving you forhelm kisses. The only times he’d not care about how he looked and how others saw him.

You know it’s to show he truly loves you for who you are. As you show how you love him for who he is. You two are basically the ideal couple in the team. Ratchet even saying that only once. Bringing Bee and Ratchet a little closer. Making both you and Optimus happy.

It’s been a good while since you all started living on the planet earth with Sari. Sari always liked hanging out with you since you were the smallest.

Often at times when you and Bee would be sitting on the couch watching TV Sari would walk in and sit on your lap almost like a little child. Sometimes Bee didn’t mind. But if he was feeling a bit “frisky” that moment or day. yeah he’d get annoyed but say nothing.

Your bond always comforting him even when you guys weren’t in battle. Every time there was a close call you guys always stayed close together. You even dressed up as Bee bride for Halloween when he went as a vampire.

Bee is always affectionate with you. And as you are with him. Deposited your size.

The others always treated you as a comrade as if the size difference wasn’t there every day. Despite not having a gender like the mechs. You do at times play at the role of a mother. Something Sari told you, bee and bulkhead about when she came to visit you all. Sari even said that you treat her like your own.

Even at night Bee would try to talk to you about it. Saying if you’re like the mother then he’s the cool uncle. You corrected him since you listened to what sari said about how family works. He’d be the dad.

At least second to Optimus Prime..This would make him a bit sad. Not happy with his not so smart moment.

You’d then comfort him the way you always do. Gently holding him by his cheeks and showering his face with kisses. Smothering him as he chuckled and his cervos gently holding your waist.

”Thanks Sweetspark. You always know how to take care of me.” He chuckled once more. “What would I do without you?”

”Mmm..probably fighting a decepticon.” You teased and this made you ad him laugh before you both looked at each other's optics. And then both of your dermas connect as you both close your optics.

You always and will till the day your spark runs out. Love moments like this with your Conjunx. Although many will always ask you, even repeating it. As you why you stay with him. You can always answer with a bright smile on your dermas. as your optics only show joy and warmth.

”He makes me smile.”

I really had fun making this for Bumblebee. He’s so cute and I tried my best to add as much as I can for him without much of a scenario. Mostly just his relationship with the reader and the femme part gave me an idea. Maybe I’ll do another part with this Oneshot but I’ll need a scenario for the two so I can get a better story out to write so please lay out the ideas. I’m sure I can make a lot of fun ideas with the family dynamic with Sari, Bee, and reader! I hope you all have a good rest of the day and enjoy the next posts as they come!

#transformers animated #transformers bumblebee #x reader #transformers #transformers x reader #tfa bumblebee #tf animated #tfa

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f1writingbyme · 3 days ago

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Hi everyone,

This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever written, and I never thought I’d be sharing something so deeply personal. But here I am, reaching out, hoping that someone else out there might understand this journey, this longing, this ache that I’m carrying. I don’t have a big following, so I don’t know if this will reach many people, but if there’s a chance it connects with even one person who’s been through something similar, it’ll be worth it.

My boyfriend and I have been trying to start a family. For over two years, we tried before finally going to our GP, who sent us straight to a clinic. It’s been a year of treatments now, a year of hopeful highs and crushing lows. We tried IUI (intrauterine insemination) four times – four times our hopes rose and fell. Then we turned to ICSI (intracytoplasmic Sperm Injection) because “traditional” IVF wasn’t an option for us.

When I had my egg retrieval, they collected a lot of eggs, but only four turned into embryos. Four. Just four chances to hold onto this dream.

Today, we found out that none of those embryos made it. We’re back to square one. All those hormone shots, every bruise, every drop of blood, every ultrasound, all the mood swings, the endless hoping and praying – only to have to start from scratch. I can’t describe the exhaustion, both physically and emotionally. You go through the medications, the appointments, waiting, and waiting, just to start all over again. It feels like it’s breaking me.

We’re going to try again because we still hold onto this hope of having a baby together. But we also have to face the reality that it may never happen, and that thought shatters my heart. Watching others around me get pregnant, hearing news of new babies… it’s so hard to see, and it fills me with a mix of sadness and anger that I can’t even fully explain. I don’t want to feel this way, but it’s the truth.

I feel so alone in this. None of my close friends or family have faced something like this. I’m reaching out here, hoping to find someone who understands, someone who has been through this kind of pain and hope and heartbreak. I feel like I could just disappear, like the ground could open up and take me in, but here I am, holding onto a sliver of hope that one day, somehow, I’ll get to hold a little miracle in my arms. Until then, I’m trying my best to be patient, even when it feels like it’s breaking me.

I want to thank @lestappenforever, my best friend in the entire world, for being my rock through all of this, even from miles away. You never push, you never overwhelm me with questions — you’re just there, right when I need you. That kind of support means more to me than I can put into words. I love you. ❤️❤️❤️

I don’t know if anyone going through the same thing will see this, but if you do, please reach out. I’m here to talk, to listen, to be there for you, but also to share my story.

You’re not alone in this. Please hold onto that. ❤️

I'm going to be a lot less active on here. I'm sorry for that (if anyone cares) but I need some time to myself. Mona and I will be back on the 1st of December with something fucking amazing which I hope you all love ❤️ I want to thank you all for your support and I love you all.

#IVF #ICSI #IUI #Personal #Oh so personal #Never ending tears #But we're hopeful

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solplease · 1 day ago

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i've been very excited to post this but here are my ocs haha!! meet lune, cecilia, nox, and aster!

close ups, more info, and a more detailed relationship chart under the cut! this is gonna be a long post haha. there's also some more info about rowan!

cecilia's twin (he's the older twin) ((by two minutes. lol))

the type to go “here to here, i’ll buy it all”

he's got a temper

possessive, devoted, and jealous yandere

people think he's a tad bit insane (and he's self aware mostly,,)

gets into fights often

“want me to kill that guy for you?” (he’s serious btw)

he’s not nice lmao, but to you he is (in his own special way of course..!)

kind of like a cat who will proudly leave dead rats and leaves on your doorstep as a gift bc it thinks you can’t hunt for yourself

hates nox LMFAO

difficult to approach at first but once you get close he won’t ever let you go.

extroverted

LOUD. someone shut him up, this mf does NOT stop yapping bro

annoying as hell and he doesn’t know that lmao

if he absolutely has to, he’ll behave. but it's... odd

constantly needs to be doing something or he’ll get bored lol

has a bit of a sweet tooth (typical)

Bastard (not literally)

played the piano when he was younger with his sister, but he hated playing it

bad terms with his family except for cecilia

huge rebellious streak

shockingly will not kidnap you! everyone already knows you’re his, and he’s yours. and he won’t let anyone get in between you two. yay..!

hates it when you don’t pay attention to him (will absolutely start sulking too)

he’s impulsive but he’s not completely reckless

you probs shouldn’t trust him too much though he has good (????) intentions lol

seems silly (debatable really) but he’s dangerous.

half of the things he says sound like jokes but trust me, he means it. he’d do anything and everything for you, don’t forget!

shockingly pouty and whiny, only in front of you though

him and cecilia have matching bracelets from when they were younger which they both wear to this day

he’s oblivious as fuck, and an idiot

lune's twin (she's younger)

normal (somewhat) ((not really))

sweet and friendly

really likes giving gifts to people she cares about

jumps to conclusion and freaks out easily, but she’s subtle about it

constantly stressed (lune is her brother, so… i get it)

introverted (runs on a social battery)

says things without thinking sometimes

people pleaser

awkward as hell tbh, but it’s really not obvious because she’s good at putting on a front

kinda has the ”””””princely””””” persona (i didnt know how to describe that better lmao

has abandonment issues

girlfail tbh

hardworking

shes really protective of her loved ones

likes cute things

has issues with her family but still talks to them (lune does NOT)

on really good terms with lune, they’re very close (even though he’s a huge troublemaker that stresses the shit out of her) ((if he fucks around too much she’ll give him a good smack))

packs a good punch

SENSITIVE…

potential yandere? still not too sure if i’ll make her a fully fledged yan but she def has some of the traits lol

her and lune have matching bracelets from when they were younger! (she wears it everyday!)

she doesn’t mean to put on a front it just kinda happens automatically lmao

could kill someone... probably wouldnt tho

used to play the piano with lune, she still plays it now too (as a hobby)

cunning and annoying

def the type to kidnap you

oddly sweet (???)

but also ominous as hell

docile with the one he loves

isolating and manipulative yandere

dislikes lune

nice but you can tell he’s putting up a wall (with strangers and friends)

introverted

wouldn’t put stalking past him tbh

he’s the type that wants to know everything about you.

he has a tough time interacting with others. he feels awkward in social situations

the type to go to a party and spend the whole time petting the cat in the corner (he would not go to the party in the first place tho lmao)

he’s not misunderstood tho, he just can’t socialize and doesn’t really want to

grabs the end of your shirt in an awkward situation (its kinda cute)

takes time to open up, but when he falls for you, his love is so strong, it’s almost overwhelming. so just accept him, alright?

shittiest sleep schedule known to man, like srsly, what is bro doing

this man’s brain probs short circuits every 5 minutes LMFAO go to bed you idiot

really good with his words, very convincing

loves cats

hidden piercings

careful and patient

is really good at taking care of others (but he would only wanna take care of you) you’ll let him, won’t you?

startles easily lol

elf oc

ditzy and kind (to you)

bit of a mean streak (not to you!)

wants to appear princely in front of you

kinda stupid (a farce but not completely lol)

has a bit of a temper, but nothing too bad

clingy and cunning yandere

two faced

struggles with empathy (he tries, he’s not human, what’s he supposed to do!)

extroverted (?)

he’s really lonely

when he met you for the first time he was absolutely fascinated as he’s never interacted with a human being before!

BLUNT. he’s not used to convos… just give him some time!

at first it was simple curiosity, but that curiosity turned into something… deeper

he was completely alone before this, but now you’re here, and you’re going to stay, right?

is obsessed with the idea of you staying here with him forever, so why do you keep talking about going home? can’t you stay here?

but then you bring up the idea of him coming with you, well why didn’t you say that earlier! he's happy to come with you

It takes him some time to grasp certain concepts so please be patient with him, he’s not used to humans

he’s paranoid and hostile to other humans. it’s not fair, he wants all of your attention, so why is everyone trying to take you from him? he doesn’t like that everyone is getting in his way…

he’s terrified of bugs. will scream incredibly loudly if he sees one lol

he pulled you through a mirror, that’s how you ended up in his land

so if you wanna go back, just ask and he’ll take you!

gives you jewelry, expensive jewelry. (maybe he’s slipped on a ring before. haha. jk… unless..?)

prefers to stay inside your place because he really doesn’t like people who aren’t you lmao

don’t stray too far from him, okay? he’s always waiting for you

rowan (who i don't have a new drawing of rn </3 sorry!):

he absolutely hates not being a priority, so please don’t ignore him. please? he just wants you to love him.

clingy, devoted, and obsessive yandere

if you don’t reciprocate he might (unknowingly) try to guilt you into liking him back. will appear like a kicked puppy to really sell it (but it’s not an act lol he’s just like this)

at least his intentions are pure! (?????????) but is that better..?

if when (it will happen) you two end up together, he’ll give you the world if you’d asked for it

used to cut his own hair! :D (not great at it tho tbh)

very attentive and will work hard to keep you happy! just don’t forget that you’ll love only each other for the rest of your life. please don’t leave.

has tripped over nothing, will definitely happen again

here's the shitty relationship chart that i rushed </3 its very ugly im sorry HAHA

i really want to clarify that NONE of them will ever hurt you physically on purpose (they might have to pay up for emotional damages tho. they have your best interest in mind ig)

also i would say that they all share some traits like being clingy, devoted, possessive, obsessive, jealous, protective, and loyal. but if i specifically wrote it, it's probs just a bit more intense... just a bit,,, haha...

#num draws #oh hell yeah new tag time #lune posting #cecilia posting #nox posting #aster posting #rowan posting #technically lmao #yanderes #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere male #not tagging female yandere just yet </3 #oc art #digital art #yandere #original character #i've been really excited to post this #i mean i know it might not get a huge response #but i really wanted to introduce them #and i do hope you like them!#i'm really bad at writing characters too so please be patient with me and hopefully i'll soon improve :]#if you have any questions about them at all PLEASE don't hesitate to ask #i would love to answer any questions!#i'm also nervous to be posting this haha... but its OKAY. im doing it #also i overused the SHIT out of the coloured text #ive never done it before i think i deserved to do it at least once HAHA #sorry that its super long btw </3 #i might do actual profiles at some point too if anyone is interested :]#realized i accidentally added aster’s info twice 😭

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4lexnilsen · 2 days ago

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“are you aware of this very special talent of yours? how you make everything way more fun than it really is?” alex coos with a sweet, boyish smile, watching as poppy’s lips close around the still warm cinnamon roll. he laughs as crumbs fall onto the floor between them, the pad of his thumb dusting off her chin. he’s loved baking ever since he can remember. at first, it was something that brought him closer to his mom or rather the memory of her. then, it became an effective way of keeping all his brothers occupied — baking cookies for santa, pumpkin pies for thanksgiving, cherry pies as a sweet summer treat. now it’s mostly a hobby, and his love language. after all, nothing says i love you quite as homemade sweets. and having poppy around, either perched on the counter or hugging him from behind or adding some secret ingredients to his recipes, never fails to make his heart soar. “yeah, no… if you spell it out for me, it’ll be the only thing on my mind until we get back home. you don’t want to torture me like this. i’ve got an idea.” he beams at her, feeding him and letting out these little moans of approval that always make his cheeks heat up. those cinnamon rolls are really good, though. “oh, we’ll do that.” his nieces and nephews don’t know the difference between homemade goods and those store-bought. they’ll be content as long as the sugar index is high enough to put a grown man in a diabetic coma.

the nilsen’s family reunions are usually highly entertaining events. their brothers turn into five year olds the second they cross the threshold of their childhood home, their spouses attempt to keep them under control up until that third glass of wine and then dissolve into giggles and gossip, the actual children are like chimpanzees on the loose, and his father tends to get emotional every time the festivities come to an end, but alex wouldn’t want to have it any other way. being the self-proclaimed favorite uncle, he is immediately swarmed by all the snot-covered gremlins, sticky hands dragging him away to assist in the annual pumpkin painting / carving contest, little voices ringing in his ears, demanding his full, undivided attention. he has to, once or twice, explain to his six year old niece that poppy isn’t dressed as a female version of pennywise (yes, the hair is the same color. yes, it might be confusing. no, not all redheads are evil clowns. yes, some orange-haired politician are evil clowns, but that’s beyond the point.) and he’s not a victorian orphan, but other than that it’s a fairly peaceful evening. he ends up with glitter and bows in his hair, lipstick on his eyelids, but that’s nothing new. they love turning him into a princess, and he’s just glad to be included. after all, one day, all these kids will be grown up and think he’s anything but cool.

“baby,” he calls out from across the room, seeing that she’s been chatting up with his dad and deciding to throw her a life raft in case she needs it, “would you like to join us? i don’t think i have the skill to help lily bring her vision to life, but you’re real good with makeup. i think you’re also good at painting pumpkins.” his little niece beams at that, her bleach blonde wig barely hanging onto her scalp, that blue elsa gown all wrinkled after hours of playing with her cousins. there’s paint on her cheeks and hands, but she still jumps up to her feet and races to where poppy’s seated, hoping to drag her to the floor so she can help her turn that big pumpkin into olaf. “alex doesn’t know who olaf is,” she explains with a sigh and a dramatic roll of her eyes, hands on her hips as she judges her uncle for that embarrassing lack of knowledge.

@sparelove

"of course i want to try it." as alex dips the knife into the icing, she's careful to place a hand beneath it as he lays it carefully across her tongue. "yeah, no. we can't bring that. i have to eat one right now." she smiles when she notices the pink of alex's cheeks. "you know what i mean, alex nilsen. don't be coy." she takes the knife from his hand and continues to ice the rest of the cinnamon rolls, teasing him all the while. "work it off meaning something akin to what we did this morning, and last night. would you like me to spell it out for you?" she scoops a roll onto a plate that sat close by, grabbing alex a fork so they could both try it. "i make no promises that we won't be late though, if we start…" poppy cuts a piece, waiting for him to open his mouth before pulling away. a moan of pleasure passes her lips when she tries a bite of her own. these may have been the best cinnamon rolls she's ever had. "we should just pick up those festive frosted sugar cookies on the way."

which is exactly what they did; and despite the looks of judgement from bryce when they arrive without what had been promised, poppy quickly shuts the second nilsen brother down. "i'm sorry, bryce, what was it you made for this party?" she asks as she sets down their container of cookies. when his eyes narrow on her, poppy pushes again, "it's my fault, not his. they were just too good to be wasted on the youth." byrce rolls his eyes with a laugh, "i'm not disappointed my children aren't getting to have any. i'm disappointed." she nods, "now that i understand."

after explaining to a few of alex's neices and nephews what their costumes were, and therefore also explaining that they weren't old enough to watch the film, poppy found herself sitting with mr. nilsen while everyone else carved pumpkins. "you know, i didn't used to let the boys even celebrate this holiday," he began, prompting a chuckle from poppy. "i do know as a matter of fact. your son and i had a fight about it earlier." the confession prompts a look of concern from alex's father but the blonde is quick to settle his worries. "about religion, more specifically. it worked itself out." there's a heavy sigh as mr. nilsen crosses his hands in his lap, looking across the room to his children and grandchildren were. "i didn't know any better." poppy nods before she settles an arm across his shoulders. "but now you do, and that's all that matters." the only point that meant something was that four well-rounded men were out in the world. they had families and lovers, great friends and careers that kept a roof over their heads. by all means, mr. nilsen was successful. no parent was perfect. but the love poppy felt from alex and the rest of his family was a job well done in her opinion. complicated relationship with religion or not, she was happier when she was around them.

#poppywright #sparelove #im so sorry its been ages but i missed them :'))) i had to dig this one out #politics //#but its vague?#just in case though

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melonnade · 1 year ago

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Since the mid-autumn festival is coming up, let’s settle this once and for all:

#polls #poll #mid autumn festival #moon festival #中秋節 #中秋节 #mooncake #moon cake #chinese culture #chinese cuisine #月餅 #月饼 #<- me trying to hit as many relevant tags as possible 😭#this is an important question for me because I have strong feelings about this that need to be proven right #so the more people that I can reach the better #the other day my family was like ‘you know. you’re the only one who likes the lotus paste ones’#I said ‘yeah cause they’re the best’#my dad goes ‘but you like the egg yolks too. nobody likes the egg yolks. they’re gross. you just have weird taste.’#but that’s not true because lotus paste + egg yolks = the best. number one. cannot be beat.#anyway. prove me right please.#and if I’m wrong then at least I’ll have a new flavor to try out #tried to get a good mix of traditional + nontraditional but common flavors. might’ve missed a couple though

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badolmen · 1 year ago

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Actually I think I’ll die mad at my bros high school girlfriend. I hope she gets stuck in stop-and-go traffic for an hour every time she travels for more than 20 minutes.

#ra speaks #personal #sorry I remembered her today randomly and it made my blood boil #one time my bro said she thought I didn’t like her which wasn’t true at the time but ohhh girly if I see you on the streets…#you’re getting the coldest shoulder of your life #I got a notif from Instagram randomly the other day abt her that’s what reminded me #she and him dated p much his entire high school career #and she had severe anxiety but was also highly social #so as a result my bro was always supporting her + basically only hung out w her friends and such #which like isn’t a bad thing even tho I think he should’ve tried to make his own friends and time for them #she needed support and someone to talk her down over the phone at 9 PM or whatever and he was willing to do that #she’s a year ahead of him so she goes to college. they both know long distance is gonna be a pain #so they mutually agree that if it doesn’t feel like it’s working out they’ll talk face to face for a break up #I think almost a year into a pretty steady long distance thing with regular phone calls and irl vacations together #(also the calls were so well scheduled we literally called it T*** Time whenever my bro dipped to call her)#anyways she doesn’t answer his calls or texts for a few days and then she BREAKS UP WITH HIM OVER TEXT #she ignores his attempts to call her/stops responding to his texts abt it bc they BOTH agreed to break up face to face #she cuts him off burned bridges everything overnight no warning #and THEN. THEN. she has her DAD (who’s become a bit of a family friend up until this point) BRING OVER EVERY GIFT AND HOODIE MY BRO EVER #GAVE HER. EVEN FRAMED PICTURES OF THEM TOGETHER. and that was it.#I’m still. so fucking pissed on his behalf. frankly amazed he didn’t turn into an incel-type out of spite #like WHAT THE HELL happened to make her turn and cut him off so quick??? they were going steady and my bro was devestated bc he legitimately #didn’t know if he said/did something to upset her and she wouldn’t respond to let him know WHY out of a sudden and vague ‘I don’t think this #is working out’ which like. GIRL YOU COULDNT HAVE DROPPED A HINT OR TWO??#idk it just feels like all the time he spent supporting her in high school/how much of HIS time was spent taking care of her #and exclusively socializing with HER friends (which he never really clicked w so to speak)#it’s like he was robbed of a fulfilling high school social life for nothing. to be dumped over text cold Turkey.#at least he has college friends now it only took him two years lol <- it took me four so I can’t judge

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loveanddeepdick · 17 days ago

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nerd!choso who is so unknown at school that people go, “who?” when he’s mentioned. you’re pretty sure that only five people knew who he even was.

nerd!choso who is most definitely the president of some club like chess or dead poets society. he saw you at the club fair and fell in love

he thinks he went to heaven when you approach his table at club rush. yuji, although not in chess, was helping choso recruit people since his poor brother was too shy to talk to anyone. you go up to your friend yuji, making small talk with him.

“i’ve never played chess, yuji”, you giggled

“my brother can teach you!”

you glanced over at choso, not even noticing him at first. he was.. pretty. not pretty as in a way your friends would giggle at you when they saw you in a new outfit, not pretty as in the comments you got under your instagram post, but he was a natural beauty.

yuji had to snap you out of it. of course he noticed though, the way you two looked at each other.

nerd!choso who teaches you how to play chess, not letting the two other members of the small club play with you.

nerd!choso who helps you study, helps you carry textbooks, and helps you with midterms and any exams you have.

nerd!choso who has a nosebleed when you give him a small peck on the cheek when he finally confesses to you after months of pining for you.

you two had been studying in his dorm, comfortable with each other as your head was leaning against his shoulder as you two relished in each other’s presence.

“i like you.”

“oh! i like you t—“

“no. i like you.”

you turn to him. a small smile creeping onto your face. you didn’t say anything, only pressing a short kiss on his cheek. he immediately freezes up, his hands turning clammy and sweaty.

“i—uh..”

then, a trickle of blood comes from his nose, dripping onto his cupid’s bow.

“oh my god, cho!”, you gasped as you jump up, running to grab a tissue from his nightstand where he also kept a picture of you two and a bottle of lotion

you leaned in, wiping his nose attentively. as you chide and nurse him while mumbling, choso can’t help but stare down to take a peep at your tank top. he could see the valley of your boobs and the top of your bra. he choked, letting out a startled gasp before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

he knocked out cold on the spot

nerd!choso who keeps a special picture of you in his wallet. he’ll be at his chess club meetings, at lectures, out with his family, and he keeps a hand on his wallet, knowing you’re in there.

the picture was a polaroid he took with your camera, your eyes were just out of frame but he could see a portion of your fucked out face, his cum dripping from your mouth and splattered on your cheeks. you were completely naked and sprawled out on his bed in his childhood home

it was almost funny how a hot goddess of a girl was naked, covered in his cum, and sprawled out, pussy on display on his old lego ninjago bedsheets.

nerd!choso who dedicates every single one of his orgasms to you. if you were with him, he’d find a way to cum inside you. in your mouth or your pussy, he’s find a way inside. of course, he’d also opt for cumming on your tits or on your face, he wasn’t greedy. but what he really wants, is to cum inside your cute little ass! he’s too shy to ask, of course, but the day would come eventually

if you weren’t here though, he’d pull up his personal secret album for you, filled photos and videos with shots of under your skirt, through the crack of your bedroom, from your window, when you just walking around with a tank top. he loved it all.

but his favorites were videos you’d allowed him to take while he was fucking you from the back or in missionary. he loved watching them on repeat, never getting bored of them. after a while, he gained the courage to show you as well.

you checked your phone to see a notification from your boyfriend and gasped when you opened it.

it was an image of the picture he kept of you beside his bed, covered in his semen. in the corner of the photo was his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

‘i miss you 🖤’

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #choso kamo x reader smut #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo #choso x you #choso x reader #choso smut #jjk choso #jjk x you #rina thinking 📝

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sabertoothwalrus · 3 months ago

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tips for getting people to like your ocs

*disclaimer: this is based on what’s worked for me, aka an artist that likes to make comics/storyboards. so this advice is directed at people who do that

you can do things like this:

Which is fun! Character sheets like this are great, especially for personal reference! But frankly, I don’t think most people engage with this (at least I personally don’t). You could have the coolest character in the world, but it will be harder for most people to feel invested when they’re presented so neutrally like this.

My main piece of advice is: get better at writing.

That might sound harsh when said like that, but let me explain what I mean! (Not trying to imply you’re bad at writing either!)

What I tend to do is just throw characters into situations with as little handholding as I can. Give enough context that readers can follow along, but don’t feel like they’re being explained to.

what can you learn about the characters through their designs alone? (age, personality, economic status, occupation, etc)

what can you learn about the characters’ relationship though their interactions alone? (are they close? familial? romantic? is there hostility? are they tense/relaxed?)

what are the characters currently doing? what were they doing previously (how long have they been talking)? what are they going to do next? can you convey this without dialogue?

how do they feel about what they are doing? are they content? focused? over/understimulated? would they rather be doing something else?

where are they? does it matter? would establishing a setting in at least one panel clarify the scene? is there anything in the enviroment that could tell some of the story?

what time of day is it? what time of year is it? what is the weather like?

Now, with all this in mind, I'm going to give you another example. I'm going to use completely brand new characters for the sake of the experiment, so you won't have any bias (aka I can’t use Protagonist from above, since you already know all about him).

Did this get more of an emotional response from you than the first example? Why do you think so? Who are these characters? How do they know each other? What else can you infer about them? What happened? Who is "she"?

Now, you don't have to actually answer all those questions. But think about them! You can tell people a whole lot about your characters without ever showing them a list of their likes and dislikes.

Obviously, comics aren't the only way to get people invested in your original characters! But regardless, easily digestible formats will grab people's attention faster than huge blocks of text, and comics are a lot less work than doing wholeass storyboards.

Now go and share your ocs with the world!!!

#edit: I rephrased some things in this post for better clarity!#my art #art tips #original character #writing #comic

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d1stalker · 2 months ago

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Origin [Logan Howlett]

Summary: Two people, one shared past, and decades apart.

Warnings: fem!reader, angst, fluff, longing, things get bad before they get better! WC: 14k - MASTERLIST

A/N: there are plot points that are inspired by Logan's origin story (thank u marvelwiki), but they are so non-canon compliant its funny so don't call me out tyyy 😙

----

Before he was known as Logan, or as Wolverine, he was James.

Your James.

—

It’s quiet in the Howlett estate, the kind of stillness that only comes when everyone has long retired for the night. But while the rest of the mansion sleeps, you remain wide awake. Dressed in your nightgown and nestled under the blankets, you glance at the small, brass pocketwatch resting on your bedside table. The hands read 10:22 PM. Any minute now, you think to yourself.

Then, like clockwork, you hear it—a faint knock on your door. Three slow, deliberate taps, followed by two quick ones. The secret signal never fails to make you smile. You spring from the bed, feet softly padding across the floor as you hurry to the door. You open it as quietly as possible, your grin widening the moment you see who’s waiting on the other side.

James.

He stands there, dark tousled hair and that familiar mischievous smile that always manages to light up the dim hallway. You’ve known him your entire life, growing up together under the roof of the Howlett estate. Your parents, both loyal servants to the Howlett family, were fortunate enough to be granted permission raise you alongside their son.

From the moment you could walk, you and James were inseparable, sharing countless adventures in the woods, running across the estate’s gardens, and whispering secrets to one another under moonlit skies.

"About time," you whisper, teasing him with a playful glint in your eyes. "You really know how to keep a lady waiting, don’t you?"

A soft snort escapes his lips as he grabs your hand, pulling you gently into the hallway. "My deepest apologies, M’lady," he replies with mock formality, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "I had to... attend to urgent business in the necessary."

You snicker, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Ah, I see. Was it a fulfilling experience, sir Howlett?"

He glances over his shoulder, rolling his eyes with exaggerated exasperation, though you catch the small smirk tugging at his lips. He doesn’t respond, but his silence confirms everything. It was.

The rest of the trip is quiet, the two of you moving stealthily through the darkened corridors, careful not to disturb anyone or draw unwanted attention. After all, your mother would certainly disapprove of such late-night rendezvous. It is improper, she would say.

But what choice did you have? The day offered no time for moments like this. You were busy training to take over as the next chief maid, learning the endless routines of the household, while James spent his time with his family or other highborn friends. It was only after hours, when the mansion finally settled, that the two of you could steal away for these secret meetings.

Finally, you reach the gardens. The crisp night air greets you as you slip away from any prying eyes. There’s a familiar sense of peace here, among the fragrant flowers and the towering trees that shield you from the world. James leads you to your usual spot, a stone bench tucked beneath the shadow of the hedges. Wordlessly, he slips off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before taking a dramatic bow.

"To keep you warm, M’lady," he says softly.

"Hush, James," you laugh, finding his antics endearing.

You’re grateful, especially as the cool night air nips at your exposed skin. The nightgown, while comfortable, offers little protection against the chill. You pull his jacket tighter around yourself, then pat the empty spot next to you, gesturing to him to sit, to which he does.

“How was your day?" you prompt.

James sighs, leaning back on the bench, his hand casually resting behind you as he stares up at the sky. "Same old, same old," he starts, a familiar twinge of annoyance creeping into his voice. "You know how it is. Dinners with my parents, listenin’ to old men talk about businesses I'll never care about, trying not to fall asleep while they drone on about investments or land expansions. It’s all so posh."

You stifle a giggle, nudging him playfully with your elbow. "Posh? You sound like you're living the dream."

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "If by 'dream,' you mean sitting there pretending to care while wonderin’ how quickly I can escape to see you, then yeah, it's an absolute dream," he quips sarcastically.

Sniggering, you bring your hand up to your forehead, acting distressed. "Oh, how tragic. The poor Lord James Howlett, trapped in a world of lavish dinners and fancy wine. Whatever will you do?"

"Mock me all you want, but it’s unbearable," he groans, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I hate it. All the stuffy clothes, the fake smiles, the way everyone acts like they're better than everyone else." He pauses for a moment, then glances sideways at you. "You're the only real thing here."

The sincerity in his words makes your heart flutter, and you’re suddenly grateful for the darkness hiding the faint blush creeping up your cheeks. Looking away, you try to play it off. "Well, if that’s the case, I guess I should charge you for my company," you tease coyly.

He lets out a huff of amusement, shaking his head. "I'll pay whatever price you want.”

There's a pause as you both sit in comfortable silence. Just then, a soft breeze sweeps through the garden, catching the edges of your nightgown and fanning it up slightly. Before you can even react, he swiftly moves his jacket from your shoulders to your lap, covering your legs. His hand lingers, making sure you're covered before he hastily wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you close against him.

The warmth from his body contrasts with the cool air, and you can't help but laugh softly at his sudden behaviour. "Wow, you really are a gentleman, James."

He tenses slightly, his grip on your shoulder loosening as he looks away, clearly flustered. "I—I just didn’t want you to get cold," he mumbles, his usual confidence faltering.

You smile at how shy he suddenly seems, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Thank you. It’s sweet."

For a brief second, he says nothing, but you can feel the way his heartbeat picks up just a little. Then, almost too quietly, he mutters, "I’d do anythin’ for you."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you tilt your head to look up at him. But you can’t respond, because he clears his throat, looking down at you with a small, sheepish smile. "What about you? Any exciting adventures in the life of a future chief maid?"

Grinning, you recognize his attempt to shift the conversation, and decide to let it go for now. "Oh, you know, the usual. A thrilling day of dusting, folding linens, and trying not to spill tea on your mother’s favourite rug."

He chuckles, pulling you a little closer. "Sounds way more exciting than my day."

You hum in acknowledgement, letting the moment linger. Neither of you speak for a bit, just relishing being in each other’s presence.

"So, do tell," you say after a while, breaking the silence, "if you could get away from all the fancy dinners and boring conversations, what would you do?"

He smiles slightly, his gaze still fixed on the star-filled sky. "I’d leave. Go far away from here, maybe somewhere quiet. Live in the countryside, where no one cares about wealth or titles." His eyes drop to meet yours. "Maybe you’d come with me."

You laugh gently. "And who would take care of your family if we both ran off?"

Shrugging, his expression grows more serious. "They don’t need me. They need someone who’ll do what they want—someone to follow in their footsteps. That’s never been me."

There’s a weight in his words, and you feel a pang of sympathy for him. You’re about to respond, to tell him you understand more than he realizes, when—

BANG.

Your body stiffens instantly, heart beginning to pound in your chest as you straighten up, eyes wide.

"What the hell was that?" James asks sharply. He turns to you, his face mirroring the confusion and unease you're feeling.

Shaking your head, you swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat. "It sounded like a gunshot."

The two of you stare at each other for a beat, then, right when you’re going to speak again, you hear it—his mother’s scream. It’s high-pitched, panicked, and it sends a jolt of fear through you both.

"Help!" she shrieks from inside the mansion. "James, help!"

Without a word, you bolt to your feet, the peaceful night forgotten as you rush back inside. Your heart is racing as your bare feet fly across the grass, nightgown fluttering behind you. James is ahead of you, moving fast, his expression shifting from confusion to pure fear.

As you reach the back entrance, your mind races with possibilities, none of them good. You burst through the door into the hallway, your breathing laboured from the sudden sprint. Something is terribly wrong.

"Mother!" He calls, his voice sharp with panic as he leads the way toward the main staircase. You follow close behind, anxiety coiling tight in your chest.

Once you get to the bottom of the stairs, you hear footsteps—heavy, hurried—and then you see her. Mrs. Howlett, wide-eyed and pale, comes hurrying down from the upper floor, clutching the banister for support. Her hands are trembling.

"James!" she cries. "Your father—he’s been shot!"

The boy beside you freezes, face going white. "What?" he breathes, disbelief etched into every syllable.

"He—he was in his study, and I—I heard the gunfire. I—I don’t know what happened. I don’t know who—" Her voice breaks, and tears stream down her face as she struggles to speak. "We need to get help!"

He doesn’t waste another second, taking off up the stairs, his long strides making quick work of the distance. You trail after him. How could this happen? Who could’ve done this?

When you reach the second floor, you see the study door slightly ajar, light spilling out into the dark hallway. James' hand wavers over the doorknob for only a moment before pushing the it open wide.

Inside, the scene is worse than you imagined.

There, slumped over his desk, is Mr. Howlett. His once pristine office now looks chaotic—papers scattered, a window broken, and blood, so much blood. A crimson stain is spreading across his shirt.

"Father," James chokes out, rushing to his side, his hands shaking as he reaches for him.

You stand paralyzed for a moment, the sight rendering you speechless, but then the adrenaline kicks in, and you move further into the room. Your mind is screaming at you to do something, anything, but all you can do is watch as James desperately tries to wake his father, calling his name again and again.

Trying to make sense of the horrific scene, your attention is dragged away by the sound of footsteps shuffling behind you. Thomas Logan, the groundskeeper, stumbles in, his movements clumsy, his face twisted with drunkenness. His bloodshot eyes are manic, and in his trembling hand, he’s clutching a gun—the same one that must have been used to end Mr. Howlett’s life.

"Thomas!" Mrs. Howlett yelps. "What are you doing?"

James turns sharply, still kneeling beside his father’s body, his expression hardening immediately. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Thomas lets out a low, slurred laugh, staggering further into the room. His eyes flick between you, James, and Mrs. Howlett, but his focus remains hazy. "I’ve had enough of this, enough of all of it," he mutters, waving the gun in the air. "Your precious mother thought she could keep the truth from you. But it’s time you knew the truth, boy."

"What truth?" The younger man demands harshly.

Swaying on his feet, he points the gun directly at James, his finger twitching dangerously on the trigger. "I’m not just the groundskeeper, you idiot," he snarls venomously, "I’m your damn father."

It’s as if the room has been put on pause. You feel the air leave your lungs, your mind scrambling to make sense of what you just heard. Glancing at your friend, you see the disbelief wash over his features, his eyes widening with shock, denial.

"No," he whispers, shaking his head, backing away slightly. "You're lying. You’re drunk."

But the older man just laughs, the sound hollow and bitter. "You think John Howlett was your father? That man never wanted you! He raised you because he had to, not because you were his. You’re mine, boy. My flesh and blood,” he jerks his head in the direction of Mrs. Howlett. “Go ahead, ask your mama."

You hear Mrs. Howlett begin to blubber in the background at the accusation, but your attention is solely on the boy in front of you.

Betrayal is written all over his face.

His breath quickens, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. You want to reach out to him, concern puling you forward, but then he lets out a scream—a sound so full of pain that you stop in your tracks.

"James!" you cry, but he doesn’t seem to hear you. His eyes squeeze shut, and his body convulses, as though something inside him is tearing him apart from the inside out.

The sickening sound of skin breaking fills your ears, and bone claws shoot out from his knuckles. They gleam in the dim light of the room, sharp and lethal. The sight of them is nauseating, but you’re unable to look away as James blinks, gazing down at his hands, dumbfounded.

"What—" he rasps, his chest heaving. "What’s happening to me?"

“What the hell is this?” Thomas sneers in disgust. He stumbles, reaching for the wall to steady himself. “Figures... Of course my son’s a freak.”

“You were always a fuck-up,” he continues in his drunken rage. “Useless, soft... a disappointment from the start. Just like your mother. Look at you now, boy.”

“I’m not your boy,” James snarls through gritted teeth, rage building inside him. His eyes flash dangerously. It’s as if something inside him has snapped, some deep, instinctual part of him that has been lying dormant, waiting for this very moment.

“You’re right. You’re no son of mine. Just a goddamn mistake. Should’ve left you in the dirt with your—"

Before he can finish, a roar rips from James’s throat. So raw, so animalistic, you get goosebumps. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled, and then, with terrifying speed, he lunges.

In an instant, his claws sink deep into Thomas’s chest with a thunk. The force of the blow sends the older man crashing back, disbelief and agony seizing his face as blood sprays across the room, spattering the walls and floor. His body thrashes, his hands weakly grasping at his son’s wrists, but there’s no strength left in him.

A gurgling gasp bubbles from his throat, and then it's over. He collapses to the ground, lifeless, as James stands over him, claws retreating back into his skin.

"James!" Mrs. Howlett screams, her voice piercing. "What have you done?!"

You don’t know how to react. You can’t process it, can’t breathe. All you know is that you need to get out of here—get James out of here, away from this nightmare before it consumes him. Without thinking, you rush to his side, grabbing his bloodied hand.

"We have to go!" you say urgently.

His eyes dart to you, frantic and unfocused but he doesn’t resist as you pull him toward the door. His mother's cries echo behind you, but you can’t stop, can’t look back.

You run—both of you—through the hallways, out the back door, and into the dark of night. The wind whips around you, stinging your face, but you don’t stop. You run until your legs burn, until you’ve entered the surrounding forest, and the Howlett estate is nothing but a distant shadow behind you.

All the while, James’s hand stays locked in yours.

Branches scratch everywhere, at your arms, your face, and the underbrush tugs at your clothes as if trying to hold you back, but you push on. Only after the first light of dawn begins to creep in, does the exhaustion hit. Bodies aching and bruised, the two of you collapse beside a small stream.

You’re on your back, catching you breath, when you tilt to your head to look over at your friend. He’s sitting down, with his hands out in front of him, leering at them. He struggles for air, his breaths coming in short, panicked bursts, and his clothes are torn, stained with blood—his father’s blood, Thomas’ blood.

His claws are long retracted, but the scars of where they came out of his skin are there, fresh.

"James," you whisper, but he doesn’t respond. Slowly, you crawl over to his side, pain flaring with each movement. When you reach him, you sit on your knees, looking up at him, trying to meet his gaze. You repeat his name, more firmly this time.

He finally looks at you, but he’s broken. His lips tremble as he opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a choked, almost inaudible, "What did I do?"

Your heart aches for him. Reaching out, you gently take one of his bloodied hands in yours, and as soon as your skin touches his, he flinches, pulling back slightly. "I killed him." he whispers, more to himself than anything. “I—I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t mean to!"

"Hey, listen to me," you say. "You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known this would happen."

"I killed him," he repeats. "I killed Thomas. I—" He glances down at his hands, at the scars along his knuckles, and his expression crumples completely. “He was my father.”

You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to fix this, but you know you have to try, so you wrap your arms around him. At first, he stiffens, but then he collapses to the ground, pulling you down with him. You land on top, your chest pressed against his as the weight of your bodies crashes into the soft earth. He squeezes you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, his face buried in your shoulder as his breath comes in short, broken sobs.

"I didn’t mean to do it," he repeats, the words muffled against your skin. "Something just changed inside me. What am I? What am I turning into?"

“Hush," you whisper, moving one of your hands to brush his hair. "Look at me. Just breathe, okay? You’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together, I promise."

His arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer. It’s overwhelming, but you don’t push him away. Instead, you let him hold you as tightly as he needs, your fingers gently stroking the back of his head, trying to console him in any way you can.

"I’m a monster," he whimpers. "What if I hurt you, too?"

"You won’t," you affirm, lips brushing against his ear as you whisper. "You’re not a monster. This… this thing that happened, it doesn’t change who you are. You’re still you."

Beneath you, his body shakes, overcome by emotion he holds onto you. Your forehead is pressed to against his, your breath mingling with his while you continue to whisper reassurances, telling him over and over that it’s going to be okay, that he’s not alone.

Minutes pass, maybe longer—you lose track of time as you lie there together. Gradually, his cries begin to quiet, his breathing slowing as the storm inside him starts to subside. His grip on you loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let go fully, still cradling you in his arms.

Shifting, you raise your head to look at him. His eyes are red, his face pale, but he’s calmer. You start to pull yourself off of him, but as you're standing up, he grasps your hand again, and he looks at you with a tired, grateful expression, squeezing it gently as if to say everything he can’t put into words yet.

Then, you continue. Hand in hand, you move deeper into the forest. And finally, after a few more hours, you notice something in the distance. Through the trees, there are rooftops, small and clustered together, their chimneys trailing thin lines of smoke into the evening sky.

“A town,” you whisper, the first word you’ve spoken in hours.

He follows your gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the sight of the small mining town nestled in the valley.

In it, the people’s faces are etched with lines of hard labour and even harder lives, but still, you know you’ll be safe there.

—

Initially, it’s difficult—this new life you and James have carved out is a far cry from the comforts of the Howlett estate. The town you’ve settled in is rough and unpolished. You both share a modest shack on the outskirts, a place that feels foreign and strange, but over time, it starts to become home.

He finds work in the mines almost immediately. The foreman takes one look at him, his broad shoulders and strong arms, and practically shoves a shovel in his hand without asking any questions. The job is tough, but it suits him.

Every evening, he comes back to you covered in soot and dirt, his hands rough and calloused, his face lined with exhaustion. You can see the toll the work takes on him, how his body aches, but there’s something else too—a measure of peace that wasn’t there before. It’s as if he’s found a way to silence the chaos inside him, at least for a little while.

It’s not long before everyone in town begins to call him Logan, a name he offers with indifference when asked.

A new identity.

Logan is a man who works hard, who keeps to himself, who doesn’t ask for anything more than a paycheck at the end of the week.

Logan is a man who doesn’t need anyone, who can survive on his own.

To you, he’s still James.

In the quiet moments, when it’s just the two of you, he lets down the walls, lets you see through the façade. And when you whisper his name—James—he closes his eyes as if that one word alone soothes something deep in his soul.

After weeks of watching him silently carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, you offer him a rag to wipe his face as he sits down at the small table you’ve cobbled together from scraps. He takes it without a word, rubbing at the grime on his skin.

“You don’t have to do this forever, you know,” you say softly, leaning against the table as he tosses the rag aside. "There’s more to life than breaking your back underground."

He glances at you. "It’s all I’m good for now."

"You’re good for more than that," you reply walking up to him, reaching for his hand. He lets you take it, like he always does. "You can’t let what happened define you."

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he gives your hand a small squeeze, his eyes drifting to the floor as he mumbles, "What’s inside me… it’s different. You don’t know what it’s like."

You don’t argue. How could you?

The changes in him, the way his strength has grown, how his senses have sharpened, it all impacts him. He can hear things no one else can, smell the rain long before it falls, and even in complete darkness, he sees as clearly as if it were day. His powers are evolving, changing him.

But you know, deep down, that the man sitting in front of you is your friend—your James—no matter what he’s become.

You’ve seen him wrestle with the fear of what he might turn into, the fear of losing control, but you also see the man who leans into your touch, who lets you bandage his hands after long days in the mines, who presses his forehead to yours when the nights grow too heavy with silence.

And as your time together in the town goes by, there is a shift.

It starts with small things—a lingering glance, a brush of your fingers as you pass each other in the kitchen, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

Then, it moves to bigger gestures. When you’d pack him his lunch fo the day, you slip in a small piece of parchment with a heart hastily drawn on it, or at night time, instead of falling asleep backs turned toward each other, awkwardly trying to ignore whatever tension is brewing, you fall asleep in his arms, and wake up the same way.

It gets to a point where you can neither of you can deny it.

You’ve fallen in love.

—

It’s late, and you’re sitting by the fire outside the small cabin, waiting for him to return from one of his now-frequent disappearances into the woods. You used to worry about where he went, afraid he was distancing himself from you, so one night you followed him. What you found took your breath away—him, sitting out on a ledge, with some wild animals surrounding him. There was something in him that they must have recognized, a mutual respect that seemed to transcend anything human.

Since then, you’ve let him go without asking questions, trusting that those nights in the woods bring him the peace he can’t find anywhere else. But tonight, when he returns, he’s different. He doesn’t just brush past you to head inside. Instead, he sits beside you by the fire.

You turn to him, about to ask if everything’s alright, but the words catch in your throat when his hand cups your jaw. His grip is gentle, hesitant, as if he’s afraid to break the moment, but in his eyes, you find a longing, a yearning, that mirrors your own.

His thumb brushes over your cheek, and for the first time in a long time, there’s no hesitation in his movements. Your heart stutters, and when he pulls you closer, you let him. His lips meet yours, careful at first, but as you kiss him back, you feel the stress drain from his body.

The kiss deepens, slow, tender, and everything you’ve ever wanted.

—

The next few years are a kind of peaceful bliss you never expected. With each passing day, you and Logan seem to fall deeper into each other, the bond you share growing stronger, more intimate, like you’ve finally found the rhythm of the life you were always meant to have together.

Mornings are your favourite. He always wakes up first, moving quietly so as not to wake you, and he’s gotten into the habit of making you breakfast. You always sneak out of bed and snake your arms around him from behind, pressing your face into his back as he grumbles about you not getting enough sleep. “You’re always up too early,” he’d say.

“I like being up with you,” you’d mumble in response, and he’ll turn around, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his eyes soft and full of that quiet, steady love he’s never really put into words. And then he’d kiss you like he has all the time in the world, even if he has to head over to the mines.

On your days off from your job at the pub, you’ll spend hours together, finding little ways to enjoy the simplicity of your life. He will sometimes take you out to the woods behind the house, where you’d walk the trails together. He points out the different wildlife, the plants you don’t recognize, and you tease him about being a mountain man. He’d smirk, giving you that low, raspy chuckle that never fails to make your heart seize in your chest, and tug you closer to his side.

In the evenings, oftentimes, you sit together while you knit, something that started as a hobby but quickly became one of your preferred pastimes. He always pretends to be uninterested, but he’ll watch you anyway. “You’re getting good at that,” he’d say gruffly.

“Want me to make you a sweater?” You smirk, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he’d grumble, but you can tell he’s secretly pleased at the idea.

The town itself becomes part of your life together, too. You’ve made friends with the locals, joining a small knitting club. If he has time, Logan drops by the pub on your shifts just to check in, sitting at the bar with a beer and watching you work. When your gazes connect very now and then, he gives you that look—the one that says he’s proud of you, that he’s content.

“We’ve got a good thing here,” he murmurs one night, holding you close.

“Yeah,” you agree softly, kissing his cheek. “We really do.”

But, all good things must come to an end.

The mining town, though small and isolated, isn’t immune to the tensions that fester beneath the surface. Harsh conditions, grueling work, and the endless grind wear people down, turning frustration into anger, and anger into violence. Fights break out often, especially in the saloon after a long day when men try to drown their sorrows in whiskey. You both have learned to keep your distance from such skirmishes, knowing nothing good ever comes from getting involved.

Still, one night, as you return home from your evening shift at the pub, you hear the unmistakable sounds of a brawl breaking out in the middle of the street. Shouts reverberate through the cold air, followed by the crash of breaking glass. Your heart races as you recognize the deep, guttural growl cutting through the noise—a sound you know all too well.

On impulse, you rush toward the commotion, dread pooling in your stomach. You know this won’t end well. Not here. Not for him.

When you reach the scene, your worst fears are confirmed. He stands in the centre of the chaos, fists clenched at his sides. Two men circle him, their faces twisted with drunken aggression, goading him. The small crowd that’s gathered seems almost entertained, too caught up in the spectacle to understand the true danger festering.

“James!” you shout, trying to get his attention, but to no avail.

One of the men—a burly miner you’ve seen around town a few times, always looking for trouble—lunges forward, his fist swinging. The punch connects with your man’s jaw, hard enough to stagger him back, but instead of falling, you see something shift in Logan’s expression. His eyes darken, his jaw tightens. Then, his claws slowly begin sliding out of his knuckles.

The crowd gasps, and the laughter dies immediately.

“Don’t come any closer,” he growls, his voice low and full of warning. His chest heaves as he struggles to keep control, but you can see the fire burning behind his eyes. He’s on the edge, teetering dangerously close to losing himself.

But the miner, too drunk and furious to notice or care, spits on the ground. “Freak!” he slurs, venom lacing every word. “You think you scare me?”

He charges at Logan again, fists swinging recklessly. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you scream for him to stop. But it’s too late. Logan tries to pull back, to stop what’s about to happen, but the man is too close, too fast.

Everything slows down, the world moving in fractured seconds. Claws slice through the air, meeting flesh with a sickening thud. The miner gasps, his eyes widening in shock as he stumbles, clutching at his chest where the claws have sunk deep. Blood blooms around his hands, staining the dirt beneath his feet.

And suddenly, you’re thrust back into the past. You see James as he was all those years ago, his claws dripping with blood after killing Thomas. The memory crashes into you—the look of fear on his face, the horror in his eyes, the way he stumbled back, realizing what he’d done.

Just like now.

Logan’s eyes go wide, his expression mirroring that same devastation. He steps back, staring at the miner who crumples to the ground, gasping for breath. What follows is a deafening silence, the air thick with shock and disbelief. The townspeople that had been so eager for a show now stand frozen, eyes wide, faces pale.

The man gasps one last breath, then goes still.

Logan stares at the body at his feet, his claws still extended, still dripping with the man’s blood. His chest heaves, his breath shallow, and he mutters under his breath, barely audible, "Oh god… Not again."

You rush to his side, grabbing his arm in desperation. "Come on, let’s go home."

He doesn’t move. He’s locked in place, staring at the man he’s just killed. His hands tremble, the claws still out, and you can see the raw pain in his eyes as the reality of what’s just happened sinks in.

"I didn’t mean to," he whispers again, his voice cracking. "I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…"

—

That night, while you're sleeping, Logan makes his decision.

And when you wake up the next day, the space beside you is cold.

The shack feels too quiet, too still.

All you can do is stare at the empty spot in your bed. You tell yourself that maybe he’s outside, chopping wood or he’s already left for work. But deep down, you know.

Throwing on your boots, you don’t bother to change out of your nightclothes, and rush outside. His name is the first thing out of your mouth, sharp and desperate. "James! Logan!" Your voice barrels through the small yard, bouncing off the trees and fading into the cool morning air.

There’s no answer.

Panic grips you as you search the familiar places—around the shack, the small trail he likes to take into the woods, by the creek where he often spends time when he needs to clear his head. There’s no sign of him.

No footprints, no lingering scent. Nothing.

The townspeople stare as you move through the streets. They know what happened. They saw the claws, the blood. And now, they see you—a reminder of the violence that tore through their quiet lives. But you don’t care about their judgment right now. You’re too focused looking for him, too frantic to worry about the whispers that follow in your wake.

"Have you seen him?" you ask one of the miners who had once shared a drink with him, but he shakes his head and pulls away from you, muttering something under his breath. Everybody keeps their distance, their faces closed off, avoiding your gaze.

By the time the sun climbs higher in the sky, the truth settles in your chest like a heavy stone. He left. You wander the streets a little longer, until exhaustion finally forces you back to the shack.

He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t even leave a note. The man who you shared your life with, who you fell in love with, is gone—and he isn’t coming back.

In the days that follow, everything changes. The people who once greeted you with a nod or a smile now avert their eyes when you walk by. They speak in hushed tones, voices thick with suspicion and disdain.

Nobody cares that you had nothing to do with what happened in the street that night. To them, you’re guilty by association.

It starts slowly, but the gossip spreads like wildfire. Saying thinks like: you knew what Logan was all along, that you hid his secret, allowed him to kill their men. Their anger turns to you, and before long, you become the pariah—cut off, unwelcome, the person responsible for the death of one of their own.

The day they decide to exile you is gray and heavy, the sky thick with the promise of rain. No one has the decency to say it to your face. Instead, you wake to a note slipped under your door, the word leave scrawled across it in angry, uneven letters.

You pack what little belongings you have—a few clothes, some keepsakes from the life you left behind at the Howlett estate—and sling a small bag over your shoulder. Then, you walk away without looking back.

Stretching out before you is a desolate, abandoned looking road. Your legs ache with every step, your feet blistering inside your boots, but you don’t stop. The memories of Logan, the town, the life you tried to build together swirl in your mind.

The sound of a a horse whinnying pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to see a carriage approaching. The coachman—a man with kind eyes and a weathered face—slows as he pulls alongside you. His voice soft and cautious as he asks, "Need a ride?"

Nodding, you’re too exhausted to respond with words, and climb into the passenger seat. He doesn’t ask many questions, sensing perhaps that you’re a soul in need of silence more than conversation. He drives in quiet companionship, the horses' feet against the dirt the only sound breaking the stillness.

He takes you to the nearest town, dropping you off with a quiet wish for better days ahead. You thank him and give him a few coins. You’re standing on the edge of a new beginning, unsure of where to go next but knowing, with painful certainty, that the past is behind you now.

—

In this new place, you slowly begin to rebuild what you’ve lost. It isn’t easy—there are nights when the loneliness threatens to swallow you whole and days when the weight of losing your best friend feels too much to bear. Still, you find work at a small shop, rent a modest room in the quieter part of town, and painstakingly, you carve out a new existence.

Though no matter how hard you try to move forward, he’s always there. A shadow, lingering in the corners of your mind. You can’t forget him—the way he looked at you with those intense, searching eyes, the way he held you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, the way he left without a word. Your entire childhood, your early adulthood, revolved around him. He was the best part of your life. Every moment spent with him was cherished, imprinted in your memory like a brand you can’t erase.

Nights are the hardest. When the world is quiet, and it’s just you and your thoughts, that’s when the ache becomes unbearable. Each night, your mind drifts back to him. You tell yourself it wasn’t his fault—he must have believed he was protecting you by leaving.

Maybe he thought you would hate him for killing another man with his claws, for unleashing the violence he tried so hard to contain. Maybe he thought you could never forgive him.

But the more you think about it, the more you realize: if he truly believed that, then he didn’t know you at all.

And that hurts. A lot.

You start to feel like him in some ways, burdened by secrets and anger with nowhere to go. More often than not, you slip out of the town in your nightgown and into the nearby forest, hoping the solitude will offer some kind of peace. It doesn’t, not really, but it’s better than suffocating in your room, choking on memories of what was and what could have been.

—

A year passes since the night he left, and you find yourself standing among the trees once again, lost in thought. It’s not fair—none of it is. You lost everything, and for what? Because you loved him? Because you could look past his mutation?

All of the emotions you’ve done a decent job at managing bubble to the surface, a torrent of grief and rage with nowhere to go. Mindlessly, you draw back your fist and slam it into the trunk of a nearby tree. The impact shoots a sharp pain through your arm, but it’s fleeting, drowned out by the rush of anger. You pull back to punch the tree again, harder this time, desperate for some kind of release.

But the tree doesn’t just splinter. It explodes.

The force of your punch obliterates the trunk, sending shards of wood flying in all directions. You stagger back, staring at the destruction, stunned. What was just a tall, beautiful arbor is now reduced to nothing but rubble, the strength of your blow far beyond anything a normal person could achieve.

Your breath hitches when it dawns on you. You’re standing in the middle of the forest, surrounded by the evidence of your newfound power. You aren’t just grieving the loss of Logan anymore; you’re discovering that you are, just like him, a mutant.

Except, unlike him, you’re alone.

He’s not here to hold you, to help you make sense of what’s happening. He’s not here to run away with you like you once ran away with him. You have no one to share this terrifying revelation with. You have only yourself.

Looking down at your trembling hands, the faint ache in your knuckles nothing compared to the pain in your chest. It’s as if your heart is breaking all over again.

If you had known—if you had discovered this power when he was still with you—would things have been different? Would he have taken you with him? Would you still be together?

You can’t stop the questions, can’t silence the what-ifs that plague you.

Finally, the dam breaks, and you cry.

Pressing your fists against your eyes, you try to stifle the sobs, but it’s no use. The grief crashes over you in waves as the life you tried to build together all plays out in your mind like some twisted, unending loop.

—

The days bleed into one another.

Each is marked by the slow, steady march of time. You continue to live, to survive, but the discovery of your mutant powers changes everything, setting you on a path you had never imagined.

You learn that you can channel energy through your body, whether that be your emotions, or external, and then amplify it for your own gain. It’s a power that protects you, that makes you feel invincible, but the more you use it, the more distant you become from the life you once knew.

And then there’s the other side of your mutation—the ability to heal others by absorbing their injuries.

The first time you did it, it was an accident.

You were closing up shop, and as you walked along the cobblestone roads, you saw a man lying face down. Instinctively, you quickened your pace, and crouched down beside him. Was he drunk? Dead? Gently, almost hesitantly, you reached out, placing your hand on his back with the faint hope that he was simply unconscious. Your intention was simple—just to check if he was breathing, to see if he would stir at your touch.

But the moment your fingers brushed his coat, a violent surge of pain exploded in your mind, like a thunderclap within your skull. The agony was so sudden, so sharp, that it nearly knocked you off your feet.

It was more than pain—it was as though the man’s suffering had become yours, pulling you into his darkness. Your vision blurred, and for an instant, you could feel it. Blood. Hot and sticky, trickling down your forehead in a slow, steady stream. You raised a trembling hand to wipe it away, expecting to feel the warmth of it on your fingertips.

But there was nothing. No blood. No wound.

Just the phantom sensation of pain that wasn’t your own.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pain vanished. You blinked, gasping for air, trying to steady yourself. When you looked down at the man again, he was stirring, groaning softly. His eyes fluttered open, and he sat up, as if waking from a long sleep. He looked up at you, confused but grateful, oblivious to the power you had just unleashed.

It feels like a curse, the pain of others transferring to you in ways that leave you gasping for breath. But over time, you learn to control it, to take on only as much as you can handle, and to let the rest fade away.

You never stay too long in one place. Town after town, you move, always careful to keep your powers hidden. The people you encounter are kind enough, but you never allow yourself to get close. You can’t afford to—not when the memory of him still haunts you, his absence a constant ache in your heart.

What if they leave you too?

Every now and then, there are some nights of passion with a stranger, but you never find another lover, never allow yourself to even consider it.

As the years slip by, and you move through life like a ghost, always on the fringes, never fully there. In the beginning, you don’t notice it—time is something you stopped paying attention to long ago. But then, one day, nearly ten years after he left, you catch sight of yourself in a mirror.

Your reflection stares back at you, unchanged, unmarked by the years that have passed. It’s as if time has forgotten you, leaving you suspended in a state of perpetual youth. This knowledge—that you could live indefinitely—fills you with a sense of purpose you haven’t felt in years.

So, when the First World War breaks out, you volunteer as a nurse, determined to use your abilities to save as many lives as you can. The troops who come to you are broken, their bodies ravaged by the horrors of war. You take their pain into yourself, healing them with a touch, until there is nothing left but faint scars—a reminder of what they have survived.

It’s during the Second World War that you first hear the rumours. Injured men speak in hushed tones of a man they saw—a soldier who seemed invincible, fighting with a ferocity that borders on the inhuman. They talk of claws—long, sharp claws that can cut through anything, and a healing ability that allows him to shrug off injuries that would kill anyone else.

Could it be him? Could he still be out there, after all these years?

You dismiss the thought almost as quickly as it comes. It can’t be. He would be dead by now, just like everyone else from your past.

He is gone, and you are alone—that’s the truth you’ve come to accept.

—

Somewhere along the way, you meet Charles Xavier. You don’t know how, but he knows you. He knows you’re a mutant—how you helped in the war. And he wants you to join his team.

You’ve spent so long on your own, relying on your powers to survive, that the idea of joining a team feels foreign, almost impossible. But there’s something in his eyes, something in the way he speaks of his vision for the future, that resonates with you. This isn’t just about survival—it’s about making a difference, about using your powers to protect those who can’t protect themselves.

And, perhaps, it’s also about finding closure.

Maybe you can help mutants who struggle with their identity, like he did. Maybe this time, you can stop them from running away from themselves, the way you wish you could have stopped him.

So you agree.

And when you arrive at the mansion, you’re introduced to the others who will become your teammates—Jean Grey, Scott Summers, Hank McCoy, and Ororo Munroe.

The early days are challenging. Learning to work as a team, to trust one another, isn’t easy, especially for you, after so many years of solitude. But a camaraderie that develops between all of you, and it feels right. You’re no longer just a group of shunned mutants—you’re a family, united by a common goal.

—

This mission is supposed to be simple—investigate a remote facility rumoured to have ties to illegal mutant experimentation. Charles had briefed the team before sending you out, warning that there might be danger but nothing you couldn’t handle as a group. You’ve faced threats before, so when you arrive at the facility, it’s with the usual caution but no real alarm.

The structure looks forsaken at first glance, the exterior covered in years of grime, windows cracked and dark. But as you all approach, something feels wrong. There’s an energy in the air, a hum of activity beneath the surface. You can sense it, and by the looks of the others, they feel it too.

“We should be careful,” Scott mutters lowly as his hand hovers near his visor.

Jean furrows her brows. “I’m sensing...something. There are people here. This place isn’t empty”

Your stomach twists, and once the team cautiously makes its way deeper into the facility, you start to hear it—the muffled sounds of machinery, the low hum of voices, and then...a scream.

You freeze.

You’ve heard that scream before, in the dead of night, in memories you’ve tried to bury.

James.

Without thinking, you push forward, your body moving on instinct as you race toward the source of the sound. The others call after you, but their voices fade into the background as panic claws at your chest.

The scream grows louder, more desperate, until you burst into a large chamber. And there, in the center of the room, suspended in a tank of bubbling liquid, he is.

His body is thrashing against the restraints that bind him, wires and tubes connected to his skin. Machines whir around him, injecting something into his body—something molten, silvery.

A team of scientists in lab coats and armed guards surround the tank, all of them focused on the cruel procedure unfolding before your eyes.

You can barely breathe. The sight of him, after all these years—being tortured like this is too much. Pain and rage surge through you, and before you realize what’s happening, you’re moving again.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you scream.

The guards whirl toward you, but you’re already on them. The first one goes down with a single blow, your fist connecting with his chest and sending him flying into the wall. You barely register his body crumpling to the floor before you move on to the next.

Behind you, Jean and Scott rush in, their powers flashing as they help subdue the remaining guards, but your focus is on the man in the tank, whose eyes are squeezed shut in pain, body convulsing. You can’t think straight—you can only feel the overwhelming need to make this stop, to save him before the experiment finishes.

But it’s too late.

In a roar of destruction, he breaks free from the tank, glass and metal exploding outward in every direction. His eyes are wild, erratic, his mind lost to the pain and the transformation—he’s a force of nature now. A whirlwind of violence and fury.

You try to reach him, but Jean steps forward, her eyes glowing as she raises a hand. “I’m sorry,” she strains. Her telekinetic force slams into him, knocking him off his feet, and his body crumples to the ground, unconscious, the rage finally quieted.

Standing there, panting, your hands are shaking as you stare at his still form. You’re overwhelmed—by the sight of him after so many years, by the pain of seeing him like this, by the fear that you might lose him before you even got him back.

Scott places a hand on your shoulder, his voice gentle. “We need to get him out of here.”

You nod, unable to speak, and together, the team lifts Logan’s unconscious body and carries him out of the facility. The entire time, you keep your eyes on him, terrified that if you look away for even a second, he’ll disappear. When you finally make it back to the jet, Jean lays him on a stretcher, her powers keeping him sedated for the trip back to the X-Mansion. You sit beside him, your hand hovering just above his, too afraid to touch, too afraid to hope.

The jet lifts off, and your mind races with a thousand questions.

How did he end up here? Why did they do this to him?

But above all, one thought consumes you: He’s alive.

After all these years, after all the heartache and loss, Logan—James—is still here.

—

He remains unconscious for three days, his body healing from the horrific procedure he endured. You barely leave his side, watching over him as if your presence alone could somehow anchor him back to himself. His breathing is steady, but his face—it’s both exactly the same and entirely foreign to you. He looks like the man you’ve known and loved, but it’s what is on the inside that worries you.

You swallow hard, your gaze tracing the familiar lines on his skin. Where are you, James? you think. Are you still in there?

Jean had done a body scan soon after you brought him back to the mansion, and the results confirmed your worst fears: they’ve bound adamantium to his bones and buried his personality underneath the most powerful brainwashing you’ve ever heard of.

It’s devastating. Whatever relief you’d felt—if any at all—at finding him alive is now eclipsed by the crushing reality of what he’s become.

The day he is scheduled to wake, Charles calls a meeting. The team gathers in the briefing room, and you sit quietly in your chair, replaying everything that led up to this moment.

Following a seemingly endless stretch of silence from you, Charles clears his throat. “If you’re ready, perhaps you could tell us more about your history with him. It might help us understand what we’re dealing with.”

A deep breath fills your lungs as your hands clutch the table’s edge tightly. Talking about him, about everything you’ve been through together, feels like peeling at old wounds that never really healed. But you know it’s necessary. If anyone is going to help him, they need to know the truth.

“I met Logan—James, as I used to call him—over a hundred years ago, when I was very young” you begin, and you can see the surprise ripple through the room at the admission of your age. “We grew up together. My parents were servants at the Howlett estate, and I spent most of my childhood by his side. He was my best friend… and eventually, he became so much more.” Your voice cracks, and you pause for a moment, collecting yourself.

“After a tragedy involving his family, we ran away together. We lived in a small mining town for years, trying to find some semblance of a life, but things fell apart. He left, and I—I spent years trying to forget him, but I never could. He was—is—everything to me."

Jean leans forward. “I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you,” she says softly. “But you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that when he wakes up… he may not be the man you remember, and not just because of how much time passed.”

You look up at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She hesitates, exchanging a glance with Charles before continuing. “The brainwashing they used on him wasn’t just designed to make him forget. It was meant to strip away his sense of self entirely. His mind was… broken down, piece by piece. What you saw back at the facility—his rage, his lack of control—that’s what’s left of him right now.”

Hank speaks next. “We’ll do everything we can to help him, but Jean’s right. You need to be ready for the possibility that he won’t recognize you. He might not even recognize himself.”

Nodding slowly, your heart sinks further and further with each word.

“We have tools, ways to work through the brainwashing,” he continues, “but it will take time. And patience.”

“Time,” you echo quietly. “I’ve already waited so long.”

Ororo reaches across the table, her hand hovering near yours. “I know this is overwhelming. But you don’t have to do this alone. We’re here to help.”

“I need to see him,” you whisper, your voice firmer than before. “When he wakes up, I need to be there.”

Charles nods gently. “Of course.”

—

When he finally stirs, it’s not a gentle awakening. His whole body jerks, his head whipping around in wild confusion. His breaths come in sharp, uneven gasps, and his eyes dart frantically across the room, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings, and just as his eyes finally land on you, he freezes.

And for a long moment, neither of you speak.

There’s a lump in your throat, and you wait with a bated breath for some flicker of recognition in his eyes, some sign that he remembers you—that he knows you.

But it never comes.

Instead, his gaze narrows, studying you. “Where the hell am I?” he grunts. “And who are you?”

It hurts more than you expected. You knew this might happen—Jean and Charles had warned you—and you thought you had prepared yourself, but it doesn’t make hearing it any easier.

He doesn’t remember you.

“Just take it easy,” you manage to say softly. “You’ve been through a lot, James.”

His eyes flicker with confusion as he shifts in the bed, wincing at the movement. "James?" he questions.

You quickly correct yourself. "Logan."

His hand instinctively goes to his chest, fingers brushing against his side as if testing for wounds that aren’t there anymore. “What is this place?” he asks again.

“You’re at the X-Mansion,” you explain. “You were... rescued. We brought you here to heal.”

“Rescued.” he repeats dryly. “From what?”

You hesitate, unsure how much to tell him. How do you explain everything—the horrors of Weapon X, the brutal experiments, the torture that nearly destroyed him? You can’t even bring yourself to speak the full truth, not yet.

“You were taken,” you say carefully. “By people who wanted to use you for something terrible. But we got to you before they could. You’re safe now.”

Logan lets out a short, bitter laugh, though there’s no humour in it. “Safe,” he mutters, his voice low and sarcastic. “Right.” He rubs a hand across his face.

“Why do I feel like I’m missing somethin’?” he mutters, his irritation growing. “Like... like there’s something important I should remember.”

Swallowing hard, your heart twists at his words. He is missing something. But you won’t tell him that now. He’s already grappling with so much, and the last thing he needs is the weight of your shared past thrust upon him before he’s ready.

“Don’t worry about it.” Your voice is gentle, coaxing. “It’s... normal to feel confused right now.”

Frowning, he runs a hand through his hair. “Like I’m supposed to believe that.”

“I know it’s hard to understand,” you say softly. “But it’ll get better. You’ll remember in time.”

He doesn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling as if he’s searching for answers that aren’t there. After a moment, he sighs, his eyes returning to yours. “Alright. Who are you, really?” he asks. “Why do I feel like I should know you?”

Because we grew up together.

Because we were everything to each other.

Because you were the one person I never stopped loving.

“Just focus on resting,” you say, forcing a soft smile.

He studies you briefly, as if trying to figure out whether or not to trust you. Then finally, he nods, thought you can tell he’s still wary “Yeah... okay.”

The awkward silence returns.

“I should go,” you murmur, standing abruptly. The chair scrapes against the floor, the sound jarring in the quiet room. “You need rest.”

He doesn’t stop you, doesn’t ask you to stay. He just watches as you turn toward the door, and leave.

Your chest tightens painfully as you walk out of the room, the familiar ache of loss settling in once more. It’s worse this time, though—worse because he’s alive, and yet, in every way that matters, he’s gone.

You leave the room in a daze, your mind swirling with a storm of emotions. Your feet carry you down the hall, and before you realize what’s happening, you find yourself in the washroom.

The moment the door clicks shut, your stomach lurches. You barely make it a toilet before you’re retching. Tears sting your eyes, and you brace yourself against the cold porcelain, gasping for breath as your body shakes with sobs.

Standing up and flushing, you walk over to the sink, and press your forehead against the mirror. How did it come to this? You found him, after all these years, but the person in that bed isn’t the Logan—it isn’t the James—you once knew.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you try to pull yourself together. It's not the time to breakdown, you think, and after splashing some water on your face, you turn toward the exit.

Pushing open the door, you’re met with the familiar gaze of Ororo. She stands in the hallway, her white hair cascading down her shoulders, her eyes filled with something that feels like both understanding and pity.

Your eyes widen, caught off guard, not expecting to see anyone, least of all her.

“I saw you come in here,” she whispers empathetically, “but thought you might need a moment.”

You pause, trying to blink away the redness in your eyes, trying to pretend you’re stronger than you feel. But she sees through it. She always has.

“I’m fine,” you say, the words slipping out automatically.

Stepping closer, her gaze softens as she studies your face. “No,” she disagrees, “you’re not.”

The vulnerability you’ve been trying to keep at bay rushes forward again, threatening to swallow you whole. You open your mouth to argue, to brush it off, but the moment you meet her eyes, the words die in your throat. The pity, the compassion—it’s too much.

Silently, she reaches out, her hand resting lightly on your arm. It’s a small gesture, but it feels grounding.

“I saw him,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “He doesn’t remember me.”

“I know,” she says quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

—

The next few days are a blur. You keep yourself busy—too busy—hoping that constant movement will keep the gnawing ache at bay. If you let yourself stop, if you let yourself think about what’s happened, the hurt would consume you, so you don’t stop.

Most of your time is spent in your room or the garden, taking refuge in the places where you can hide from everything, everyone.

Sometimes, you train, pushing your body past its limits in a desperate attempt to silence your thoughts. Every hit you land, every punch you throw, never feels like enough.

It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. Easier to avoid him, to pretend he never came back into your life. Because the alternative—watching him live here, knowing he doesn’t remember you, doesn’t understand what you once shared—that’s too painful.

You’d rather pretend he’s still a memory than face the reality that the man you love is here, but not really.

When you walk through the mansion, you see him from afar. You can’t help but notice how he’s begun to soften around the others, how the confused man who woke up in that bed is slowly adjusting to life at the mansion. He has daily appointments with Charles, who you imagine is sifting through his mind, doing his very best to retrieve something, anything.

While there is still a distance in his eyes, still a guarded edge to him, but you can see the small shifts—the way he listens when someone speaks, the faintest hint of a smile when Hank tries to crack a joke.

And sometimes, your eyes meet.

From across the room, you’ll catch him watching you. In those moments, your heart skips a beat, wondering if there’s a reason why he’s zeroed in on you specifically, but then he looks away, and it passes. You never approach him, never ask him how he’s feeling or if he’s starting to remember anything. You’re too afraid of the answer.

One night, you sit in the garden, letting the soft breeze play with your hair, eyes closed.

“Mind if I sit here?”

The voice startles you, pulling you from your thoughts. Your eyelids flutter, and as you turn, your heart jolts upon seeing Logan standing at above you. And momentarily, it’s like you’re teenagers again—sneaking out at night into the gardens to talk.

“Sure,” you nod, gently patting the space beside you, as you always did.

He steps closer and sits down, though not without leaving a small space between the two of you. “I’ve been seeing you around,” he says after a beat.. He doesn’t look at you, his gaze focused on the flowers in front of him. “But... you’ve been avoidin’ me, haven’t you?”

A small laugh escapes you, bitter and self-deprecating. “You noticed, huh?”

“Yeah, not much gets past me. Even that one guy’s attempts at being a leader.”

Despite yourself, you snort. “Scott?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “He’s too easy. Guy looks like a human stoplight with those stupid glasses.”

You bite back a snicker, feeling like a teenager again. The banter, the lighthearted teasing—it makes it seem like maybe, just maybe, there’s still something left of the man you knew.

He turns his head slightly, his expression growing more serious. “You know, I’ve been trying to figure it out,” he says, quieter now. ��Why it feels like something’s missing. Every time I see you... I know you’re related to it.”

Shifting a little to look at him, you take in the way his facial hair is a little bit more kempt, how he still has his hair tufts. You miss him, and he’s right here with you.

“I... thought it would be easier,” you admit, staring down at your hands. “For both of us. If I kept my distance. I didn’t want to add to your stress.”

Frowning, his brows furrow as he processes your words. “Add to it? How?”

“Because you don’t remember me,” you say softly. “And I didn’t want to be a reminder of something you can’t recall.”

He stares at you for a long moment. Then, “you’re right. I don’t remember everything,” he says slowly, “but I know there’s something about you.”

You nod, your throat tight, but you don’t push him. You know it’s only a matter of time before the pieces fall into place. “You’ll remember,” you whisper. “I know it.”

He grunts. “I don’t want you to keep your distance.”

“I won’t. Not anymore.” The idea of him wanting to spend more time with you, fills you with joy.

—

For the next few weeks, it becomes a quiet routine—the nightly conversations in the garden. It’s like slipping into an old rhythm, the two of you always finding a way to gravitate toward each other once the sun goes down. You talk about small things, but it's never too heavy. Sometimes he teases you, and you tease him back, exchanging sarcastic quips. Nothing and everything has changed at the same time.

You’ve started training together too, spending more and more time together each day. It’s almost as if there’s a magnet between you that not even time could weaken.

This night, you’re in the gym together on the sparring mat. It’s the usual scenario playing out—dodging, blocking, throwing punches. He’s fast and strong. And it means a lot to see you see him finally embrace his mutant powers and use them, rather than try to hide and run.

You’re both breathing hard, the exertion pushing your bodies to their limits. You land a solid kick to his side, and he grunts, stepping back for a moment. Without warning, his claws extend, and your gaze locks in on them.

Of course you know about the adamantium, but seeing it like this, so up close, it’s different.

“What?” Logan asks, noticing your sudden stillness. His brow furrows, and he glances down at his claws, as if he’s only just realizing they’re out. “What are you staring at?”

“Does it hurt?” you question, clearing your throat. “When they come out?”

He tilts his head, his gaze flicking between you and his claws. “Everytime” he sighs. “But not as much as the old ones.”

Your eyes snap up from his claws to meet his. “... What?” you ask. The old ones?

“They were bone,” he continues, “Hurt like a bitch.”

Your heart starts pounding in your chest. Could this be it? Could he be remembering?

Stepping closer, your voice trembles slightly as you push for more. “What else do you remember?”

His eyes widen, and then he blinks, his stare glazing over for a second, like he’s trying to chase down a memory that’s just out of reach.

“I… I don’t know,” he admits with a bit of frustration. His claws retract, his hand flexing unconsciously as he stares at the empty space where the blades once were. “It’s all bits and pieces. I get these flashes, but nothing sticks. Charles said... he said the barriers in my mind are comin’ down, but it’s slow. Like finding a damn needle in a haystack.”

But the fact that he remembers even a sliver, is enough to fill you with hope.

—

This continues, the small fragments of memories coming back to him. They come unexpectedly, at random times in the day. It’s never anything big, never the full flood of memories you’re hoping for, but each time it happens, it feels like another piece of the puzzle falling into place.

You suggest a walk one afternoon. The mansion has felt a little too closed in lately, and you think maybe the fresh air might help clear his mind. Together, you wander along a little pathway that connects the mansion to a nearby river, the sound of the water in the distance a soothing backdrop as you walk side by side. He’s quiet, more so than usual, and as you glance at him, you notice his expression has grown distant.

“Logan?” you ask softly, nudging his arm. “What’s on your mind?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. His brow is furrowed, like he’s trying to fit together pieces of a puzzle, his thoughts distant, swirling. “I remember…” he starts, his voice quiet, as if he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

Your fingers begin to twitch at your side. Every time he remembers something, it feels like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if he’ll fall into the past, if this will be the moment he remembers it all.

“A cabin,” he says finally, his voice rough but certain. “There was a shack. In a small town. I used to stay there.”

You nod, urging him to continue, anticipated building within your chest. “Go on.”

“It was small. Cold most of the time. But I don’t think I cared.” He lets a chuckle. “I liked it. Felt... peaceful.”

You can’t help but smile a little at the memories he’s bringing up. His steps falter, and he stops in the middle of the path, turning to look at you. “Mining,” he mutters, as if the word itself is triggering something. “I remember mining.”

“That’s good,” you say. ‘I’m happy for you.”

—

The memories keep coming.

You’re in the mansion, passing through one of the long hallways together on your way to eat, when he suddenly stops, his hand reaching out to steady himself against the wall. You turn, concern flooding through you. “Are you okay? What is it?”

He frowns, his eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to force something into focus. “There was a girl.”

“A girl?” you repeat, not wanting to push him but unable to stop the question from spilling out.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “In a big house—like a mansion, I think. We'd play together. She was... she was always following me around. Always gettin’ into trouble.”

You know exactly who he’s talking about.

“Do you remember her name?”

Shaking his head, you can see the frustration etched onto his face. “No. But she must have been important, I can feel it.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you try to hold yourself together. It was me, you want to say. That little girl was me.

“It’s okay,” you say instead, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. “You’ll remember. You’re already so close.”

He looks at you then, his eyes searching yours for something—answers, reassurance. Once a few seconds pass, he sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know how you put up with this,” he grumbles lowly. “With me.”

“Because I know you,” you whisper back.

To have a chance at another lifetime with him, you’d put up with anything.

—

He’s busy with Jean and Charles this morning, the duo having started to work together last week, trying to finally break down the wall stopping Logan from recovering his memories. With nothing else to occupy you, you’ve retreated to the mansion’s library, seeking solace in the endless rows of books. The familiar smell of paper and ink is comforting, and for a while, you manage to lose yourself in the words on the page.

You’re curled up in one of the oversized armchairs, a book resting in your lap, when your ears pick up the sound of heavy footsteps—fast, purposeful, ringing out through the mansion’s quiet halls.

Concern rises in your chest. Those footsteps aren’t casual; someone is rushing, and you’ve been around long enough to know that in here, that usually means something’s wrong.

Setting the book down on the small table beside you, you stand and head toward the entrance of the library. The sound grows louder, the footsteps coming closer, and just as you reach the doorway, you collide with a solid wall of muscle.

"Ho—holy sh—" you gasp, stumbling back, startled. Your hands fly to steady yourself, and you look up, wide-eyed, to see Logan standing there. "Logan, you scared m—"

“James.”

You still.

"What?" you whisper, your mind racing as you stare at him. His face is different—not just the usual irritated-by-himself expression he’s been wearing lately, but something else. There’s a certainty in his eyes, relief and maybe even—

“My name is James,” he repeats. “I was born in Alberta. We grew up together. I... I killed my father.” His voice falters slightly at that, but he pushes through, his gaze locked on yours, unwavering. “You were the little girl in the mansion. You’ve always been there. And I—” His eyes brim with emotion. “I love you.”

The words slam into you, leaving you breathless. You can feel the blood drain from your face, your heart jumping so hard it feels like it might burst. “You... you remember?” You’re barely able to get the words out.

Logan—James—stares at you. “I remember everything.”

A sob escapes your throat, and you throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as the floodgates open. His arms come around you immediately, holding you tight, his chin resting on the top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m so damn sorry. I should have never left. I should have gone back to find you.”

You shake your head, tears soaking into his shirt. “It doesn’t matter,” your voice breaks. “None of that matters anymore. We’re together now. That’s all I care about.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that won’t stop falling. There’s so much love—so much everything—in his eyes, your knees nearly buckle. All you do is hold on to him, as tightly as you can, afraid that if you let go, this moment will slip away.

But it won’t, because he’s really here, he remembers, and he still loves you.

For what feels like hours, you stand there in the hallway, wrapped in each other’s arms. Eventually, you take a small step back, unwrapping your arms and instead grabbing his hands, squeezing them. “We have a lot to talk about.”

He squeezes your hands back in return. “Yeah, we do.”

—

You sniffle, wiping away the last of your tears as you lie in bed with him, pressed so close it feels like you’re trying to merge into one person. His warmth surrounds you, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, hands drawing small circles. It’s like all the years apart never happened, like you’re finally back where you’re meant to be.

“So, what made it all come back to you?” you ask softly, your voice a bit hoarsefrom all the crying you’ve done in the last hour.

James takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. “I guess having two strong telepaths diggin’ around in your mind will do the trick,” he responds. “Shit was brutal, but... worth it.”

Tilting his head down, he presses a small kiss to your temple. If even possible, you nestle yourself further into his hold.

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” you whisper. “All those years... I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Same for me. Thought I lost you too,” James murmurs, his hand running gently up and down your back. “After I left the cabin, I tried to forget. Tried to convince myself you were better off without me, but...” He trails off. “I was wrong—a coward. I shouldn’t have been runnin’ away. Especially from you.”

You look up at him, your eyes searching his. “What did you do all those years? Where did you go?”

He lets out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes. “I wandered. For a long time, I didn’t stay in one place. Fought when I had to, drank when I couldn’t forget. Got into a lot of trouble.” He grimaces slightly.

You frown. “What kind of trouble?”

“The kind where people like me aren’t supposed to be walking free,” he remarks bitterly. “I gave into the monster I thought I was.”

His words sink in, and you can feel the toll those years took on him, the way they left him scarred, not just physically, but emotionally. “It must have been so hard,” you whisper, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “Living like that, without... anyone.”

Leaning into your touch, “Yeah,” he admits. “It was. But... I didn’t know how to live any other way. Not after everything that happened.”

There’s a long pause, the two of you lying there, bodies tangled together as you both process the weight of what’s been lost and what’s been found. Then, he kisses the inside of your hand, looking at you with a faint, curious smile.

“What about you?” he asks softly, tugging you closer. “When did you... ya know, find out you were a mutant?”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. You’ve never really talked about that part of your life to anyone, at least not in detail.

“I didn’t know for about a year,” you begin. “After you left, I was... lost. And then one day... I punched a tree.”

James raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. “A tree?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the seriousness of the memory. “Yeah. I was angry—angry at everything. And when I punched it... the damn thing exploded.”

He stares at you for a moment, processing your words. Then, a slow, amused grin spreads across his face. “Exploded, huh? Guess that’s one way to find out you’re not normal.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Yeah, it wasn’t exactly subtle.”

His smile fades slightly. “What did you do after that?”

Taking a deep breath, you let the memories of those early days as a mutant flood back. “I tried to keep it hidden for a while. Didn’t really know what to do with it. But then... the wars started.”

Eyes narrowing, his expression changes instantly. “The wars?”

Nodding, you continue. “Yeah, the First and Second. I volunteered as a nurse. I figured if I could use my powers to help people, then maybe I could make up for everything I lost. I moved station to station, healing soldiers. I couldn’t save everyone, but I tried.”

He’s momentarily quiet, gaze never leaving yours, even as he processes what you’re telling him. Then, slowly, his features shift into disbelief.

“You were on the frontlines?” His voice low, almost incredulous. He reaches out to brush a few strands of hair out of your face.

“Yeah. I wanted to make a difference.”

Letting out a sharp breath, James sits up slightly in bed as he stares at you. “Holy shit,” he mutters. “I fought in those wars, too. In the trenches.”

You’re speechless, and the realization washes over you slowly. The whisperings you’d heard from the troops, the rumours you’d chalked up to be nothing more than drunken tales, suddenly come flooding back. A man who couldn’t be killed, who healed from every injury, who fought with claws that could tear through anything.

It was him.

It was always him.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “So it was true…all those rumours about the man who couldn’t die... that was you.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Guess it was.”

All those years, all those battles... and you were both there, so close, yet so far apart.

“We were so close,” you say, moving forward in to give him a kiss. “And we didn’t even know it.”

He kisses you back, his grip on you tightening. Then, when you pull away, he sighs, leaning back against the headboard. “It’s all so different now,” he begins gruffly. “You’re not the little maid in training anymore, runnin’ around that mansion, worried about getting caught”

You smile faintly at the memories of your younger selves, the girl you used to be, and the boy who was so much more to you than just a young lord.

“And you’re not sir James Howlett or whatever—Lord—anymore” you tease. “You’ve come a long way from the boy who used to sulk in the garden because he had to attend another dinner party.”

He lets out a noise that sounds like a mix between a huff and a laugh “Yeah,” he agrees. “That feels like a lifetime ago. And in a way, I guess it was.”

While neither of you are the same people you once were, in this moment, you can feel that connection—the one that has always been there.

“I’ve thought about you every day,” he speaks up again. “All those years.”

“James…”

“I love you,” he confesses. “And I’ve loved you my whole life. Before we ran away, after I left, even after I thought you were gone... I couldn’t forget. Didn’t want to.” He sucks in a harsh breath, grabbing your hand once more. “I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed. We could’ve figured it out together, but I was so... so damn scared. I thought if I stayed, I’d only hurt you.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes again. “You did what you thought was right,” you whisper, intertwining your fingers. “You were scared, and so was I.”

“I wish I could take it all back,” he says, regret bleeding into his tone. “I wish I could’ve been there for you... We could’ve had so many more years together.”

“We have time now,” you say softly, assuring him. “We have all the time in the world to make up for it.”

He doesn’t respond verbally, but rather he edges forward, brushing his lips softly against yours. “I love you,” he murmurs before closing the gap completely, kissing you passionately.

You smile against his lips, because while he may be known as logan, or Wolverine, he’s still James.

Your James.

----

A/N: I'm going to have to either write some crazy smut or excessive fluff now because this took it out of me LOL also I hope none of you got confused with the name switching! Thank you so much for reading <3

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