#there were 500 frames......

[booskwan]

220309 showchamp win

[biblicalhorror]

Got upset thinking about the wasted potential of zoeys extraordinary playlist as psychological horror/thriller again :/

[teamjlry]

"Those were five hundred-dollar sunglasses, asshole!"

[reasonsforhope]

"For [Tanner] Green, the chief engineer at Not a Wheelchair, this is one of the thousand complications standing between his team and a rather lofty goal: upending the manual wheelchair marketplace.

If you’ve heard of Not a Wheelchair, it’s likely because of its owners, Zack Nelson, the star of the 8.8-million-subscriber YouTube channel JerryRigEverything, and his wife Cambry, a para and manual wheelchair user. The Nelsons got into the mobility equipment business a few years ago when they released The Rig, an electric, adaptive off-road device with a simple yet robust and functional design priced significantly lower than anything else on the market. Now, they’re bringing that same ethos to manual wheelchairs.

Not a Wheelchair aims to offer a base-model, custom manual wheelchair at a similar or better quality than most of the insurance-approved wheelchairs in the U.S. for $999.

Yes, that’s just under $1,000 for everything — wheels, handrims, tires, side guards and rigid, angle-adjustable backrest included. And the company plans to have a turnaround time of weeks, rather than the monthslong slog that it typically takes from order to delivery.

When I first heard about this, it sounded awesome and a bit far-fetched. It’s hard to find a pair of quality wheelchair wheels for less than $500. Same with a rigid backrest. How were they going to offer both, plus a custom wheelchair frame without compromising on quality? I drove to their headquarters in Utah to find out...

So how does Not a Wheelchair’s base model chair stack up to other options on the market? I hate to sound like a preacher, but … it’s totally reasonable! It hits the mark of being at least as good, if not better, than the majority of insurance-approved wheelchairs in the U.S.

Touring the factory, I saw other prototypes scattered all around the facility. There’s a beefier, four-wheel drive version of The Rig that the company just launched. There’s a track wheelchair that’s still in development. It’s clear that Not a Wheelchair doesn’t intend to stop at a simple, manual wheelchair. Inexpensive components, more advanced electric off-road devices, power assist, it’s all on the table. “We’re just really excited to see where this leads,” says Green."

-Article and video via New Mobility, October 1, 2024

[starscreamingg]

Okay to respond to most of the replies on this post- I do get where you're coming from, androids are treated poorly in the game because they're an analogy for people of colour, the androids themselves don't deserve poor treatment just because they were put in a position of having to take a job that could've gone to a human.

I actually do think it could've been a decent way to get people who don't get involved with overt political discussion thinking about underprivileged people and the ways in which society has and continues to harm them. Like give the people something to latch onto (personable robots) and then go "hey you know who ELSE has been historically treated like this—"

Like that's. That's fine.

My point is that. Uh. I don't think making the androids an analogy for people of colour is a particularly good idea.

Okay let me get incomprehensible- within the real world the replacement of human workers with automated labour can and does fuck over actual people (some quick corroboration)

So we're shown in the game that androids are functionally automated labour built and inserted into industries for the explicit purpose of replacing human beings, which is an actual thing that actually happens.

And the game showcases that nothing has been done to stop employers (or cyberlife itself) from implementing them EVERYWHERE, which causes dbh's unemployment epidemic.And therein lies my problem.

The narrative comparing androids to people of colour (especially black people during the civil rights movement) and villainizing the unemployed humans by making them hyper-violent zealots (see- Markus' opening section for some of the most overt examples) is SUPER WEIRD TO ME because unlike actual people of colour the androids ARE functionally replacing jobs. They're being inserted into the workforce by corporations who have allowed the United States unemployment rate to rise to 37.4% but the game VERY ADAMANTLY STATES that the problem here is the unemployed who are violent. To the androids.

You see what I'm saying here? Like why did they write it like that? Like in real life labour being automated to this degree would be a PROBLEM. Wanting the androids universally decommissioned irl is such a reasonable point if you look at them as robots replacing the workforce without any limitations, which. They are.

And like, the game could've been sympathetic to the androids AND people fucked over by their implementation but it REFUSES to reckon with the actual problems (the corporations allowing this to happen, the lack of regulations on androids) in favour of going "humans bad for treating androids unfairly because the androids are equivalent to black people fighting for their rights."Like that's WEIRD, right???

Detroit Become Human and why does this game decide that the problem in society is individual people treating androids poorly because those androids are choking them out of the workforce and NOT the corporations and governments who deliberately designed the androids to do this

[alltheirdamn]

DECLINED | Mechanic!Joel x f!reader

Summary: You're on a cross-country road trip when your tires blow, and you're forced to get them fixed at a small town mechanic shop. When your card declines, you only have one other option to get your car back. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 3k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, mechanic!joel, sex for favors, oral sex (f + m receiving), blowjob, deepthroating, cum eating, fingering, squirting, semi-public sex, unprotected piv sex, size kink, creampie, dirty talk, pet names, joel being a disgustingly nice gentleman, porn with absolutely no plot A/N: I saw this gif float across my pinterest and had a terribly fun idea... so here it is. Enjoy a lil fun ;)

PART 2 | Masterlist | Ko-fi

“S’all fixed up now,” Joel said, walking into the waiting room.

You had been waiting a few hours to have your alignment fixed and tires replaced, and now you could finally breathe a sigh of relief. You were on your way through the small town headed east towards Tallahassee when both of your back tires blew out on the highway. You were lucky not to cause a crash and thankfully found a local mechanic shop only half a mile off the road. 

“Thank you so much,” you exhaled as you stood up and stretched your legs.

Joel rounded the counter to the register, typing up the work order to charge you out. Wallet in hand, you waited for the cost, praying it wouldn’t make a dent in your bank account. You only budgeted so much for the road trip, and this definitely wasn’t in the budget.

“Alright, ma’am, lookin’ like it’s gonna be around $500 for everything. Shaved some off just for the hassle you been through,” Joel smiled.

Shit.

“Uh, okay. Great.”

You reluctantly handed over your card, praying it would be enough. Joel swiped it on his machine followed by a loud beep that clearly meant DECLINED. You let out a shaky breath, fishing through your wallet for another card.

“Shit, try this one,” you said.

Joel nodded, his brows furrowing a bit when it also beeped in the same tone. He slid your card across the table, cocking a brow as if to ask, ‘Got another one?’

“Fuck,” you laughed nervously. “Okay, how ‘bout this one?”

Another card. Another decline. How the fuck were you going to get out of town now?

“Sorry, ma’am,” Joel sighed. “No payment means no car ‘m afraid.”

You ran your hand through your hair in frustration, trying to come up with something. Glancing up at him, you took in his broad frame covered by a simple black t-shirt that seemed to hug the planes of his chest perfectly. You hadn’t even noticed the patchy beard or kind grin that he donned so well earlier. Maybe…

“Look, I gotta get out of here tonight,” you pleaded. “Is there anything I can do to just get my car?”

Joel crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps looking much bigger in that position. With a frown turning down his lips, he shook his head.

“Afraid not, ma’am.”

“Anything? Please, I'm begging you.”

He considered you a moment, his eyes raking over your figure. You felt your cheeks warm at that look, knowing what he might be insinuating. If that’s what it took to get your car and get the fuck out of this town, then why not?

“Anything?” He repeated.

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m pretty fucking desperate right now.”

Joel came around the corner of the counter, crowding you until your neck craned up to meet his eyes. Your heart thrummed in your ears, warmth blossoming in your stomach the longer he stared at you. 

“Desperate lil’ thing, huh?” He teased.

Backing away from you, Joel walked to the shop entrance and slowly turned the lock. He looked back at you as he flipped the sign to CLOSED as if testing your judgment. You gave him a meek nod, never letting your eyes off him as he stalked toward you again. His finger ran up your forearm, catching on the sleeve of your top and tugging it lightly.

“Follow me, darlin’.”

That sentiment, followed by the twang of his accent, was enough to make your knees buckle, and you followed him like a dog in heat. Joel led you back into the heart of the shop, scraps of tools and car parts littering the makeshift garage. And right in the center of it all was your car. Leaning against the hood, he patted the metal, beckoning you over. You dropped your purse on the workbench and walked toward him on shaky legs. Joel spread his legs a bit wider as you approached, his fingers wrapping around your belt loops to pull you in close.

You were a breath apart now, just the barrier of clothes separating you. Joel’s hands snaked around your waist and firmly palmed your ass through your jeans. You let out a small yelp as his fingers dug into the supple flesh, kneading and massaging until your eyes drifted shut at the feeling.

“You pay off all your debts this way?” His voice dropped an octave, and you felt the bulge in his jeans prodding against your stomach as you leaned closer.

“Fuck off,” you scoffed. “Wasn’t planning on my car taking a shit out here and definitely wasn’t budgeting for it either.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “Ain’t got a boyfriend to give you some cash to help?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be out here tryna fuck you for my car,” you quipped.

A grin split across his face at your defensiveness, as if he enjoyed you being a brat. You weren’t trying to be— honest to god—but you desperately needed to leave this town, preferably with your car. 

“Y’sure are a bratty little thing,” he said, tugging you closer.

“Why don’t you stop talking so much and fuck me so I can get the hell up out of this small fucking town?” You grumbled.

Joel raised one of his hands to grip your chin, steadying your gaze on his. Sliding his thumb over your lips, he coaxed your mouth open and urged you to suck on his finger. Without breaking eye contact, you swirled your tongue over the skin of his thumb before wrapping your lips around it.

“Christ, darlin’,” he exhaled. “Might just let you suck my cock and send you on your way.”

You released it with a pop, a trail of saliva dripping from your bottom lip. Reaching down, you massaged the bulge in his pants, letting out a soft gasp. He was massive—bigger than expected. He let out a small chuckle as if reading your mind, bucking his hips against your touch.

“You’d give me my car for a little blowjob?” You questioned, squeezing his cock tighter.

“S’nothing little about me, darlin’.”

“Aren’t you just full of yourself,” you rolled your eyes.

Your fingers danced over the zipper of his jeans, tugging it down as he helped pull his cock free. You peeked down to catch a glimpse of it, your eyes growing wide. His cock was girthy and thick and definitely had no shortage of length, either. Precum leaked from the tip, and you wet your lips at the idea of trying to fit it all in your mouth.

“Y’gonna suck it or what? Car ain’t gonna pay for itself.”

“You gonna give me my car after?” You tossed back.

“Maybe,” he grinned. “Those tires might cost you extra.”

“We’ll see about that,” you smirked.

Sinking to your knees, you pulled down his jeans and underwear until he adjusted himself at the tip of your lips. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, squeezing softly as you guided it into your mouth. Stretching your lips wider, you swirled your tongue around the tip, basking in Joel's groan as you did so.

“S’fucking perfect, darlin��. That mouth feels fucking amazing.”

 You took him deeper, moving your mouth in a rhythmic motion until you felt his hand come down to grip your hair. He held you steady as he snapped his hips back and forth, pushing his cock further down your throat. Sputtering around him, you dug your nails into his thighs as leverage while he continued fucking your throat.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he rasped. “C’mon now, take this fuckin’ cock down your throat.”

Opening your throat wider, you swallowed every thrust as tears streamed down your cheeks. Joel was relentless with his thrusts, your nose brushing against the curls at the base every time you took him deeper. You could sense he was close to the edge, so you dragged your tongue against the base of his cock with each stroke, spurring him on further. It elicited a primal growl deep within his chest, and within seconds you could feel the warmth of his cum sliding down your throat. His cock twitched inside your mouth as he came down from his high, and you hummed as you swallowed every last drop.

Using the grip on your hair to pull you off, you sat back on your heels, coughing and heaving to try and catch your breath. Joel looked down on you with heavy lidded eyes and a smug grin as if to taunt you. Cupping your cheek, he slid his thumb against your skin and brushed away the rolling tears.

“Open,” he ordered. “Show me.”

You quirked a playful smile, leaning your head back as you stuck your tongue out to prove you swallowed it all. Slapping your face softly, Joel let out a soft chuckle.

“Atta girl.”

You brushed the remainder of your tears away, wiping the makeup from your eyes, and you stood on wobbly legs. Smoothing down your shirt and jeans, you crossed your arms over your chest and cocked a brow.

“I think I earned my car back,” you insisted, your voice hoarse from how hard he fucked you.

“Hmmm, y’think so?” Joel questioned. “I think I deserve a taste of that pussy.”

You shoved at him playfully, rolling your eyes. 

“In your dreams, cowboy,” you laughed. 

With his pants still hanging down, Joel spun you until your ass was pressed against the hood of your car. Working at the button and zipper of your jeans, he shoved them down and pulled your legs free until your bare ass was pinned to the cool metal. Joel gave you a lopsided grin and shoved you further onto the hood.

“I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t return the favor, darlin’.”

“You don’t need to do that,” you said, your voice shaky.

“Oh, but I want to,” he argued. “Gotta see how sweet you taste.”

Sliding down, Joel situated himself between your thighs, tugging your calves up to rest on his broad shoulders. He gave you a teasing kiss on your inner thighs before delving in, his tongue flicking at your sensitive bud. You careened back against the hood, your back arching as his mouth suctioned around your clit. Crying out, you carded your hand through the brown curls of his hair, anchoring his face against your wet cunt as it pulsed against his mouth. Joel plunged his tongue inside you, forcing another whine from your lips.

“Fuck!” You cried. “Right there! Oh my god, yes!”

He hummed in satisfaction, bringing his fingers into the mix as he opened you up, curling them against that sweet spot inside you. Keeping his mouth on your clit he worked in tandem with his fingers until that coil inside you wound tighter and tighter. With one more curl of his fingers, your orgasm surged through your body, forcing a gush of liquid to stream out of your wet cunt. Joel sat back in awe, staring at your glistening folds as your body trembled from the release, your juices covering his beard and mustache. 

“Fuck babydoll,” he grinned. “You a squirter, too?”

You laughed awkwardly and watched as he removed his two fingers and brought them to his lips. Sucking them into his mouth, Joel groaned as he tasted the remnants of your orgasm. You knew you could squirt—it was your own dirty little secret—but something about seeing him covered in your juices made you want more. Tugging him softly with your calves on his shoulders, you urged him back to your soaked entrance, silently begging for another round. 

“Gonna cover me in your juices again, darlin’?” Joel smirked. 

“Mhmm,” you whined. 

“Drench me babydoll, let’s see it.”

Joel’s mouth was on you again, lapping up the juices leaking out of you until you were crying out for him. He didn’t let up as he sucked your aching clit between his teeth, his tongue working at the bud in earnest. He pushed his fingers back into you, your cunt pulsing violently each time he curled them. Slipping a third finger in, he stretched you wider and moaned against your clit as your body tensed with another orgasm. Another rush of liquid made it past his fingers, soaking his mouth and chin. You could feel it trickle down the seam of your cunt, drenching the hood of your car as you thrashed against it.

“Christ, Joel,” you mumbled, your head lolling to the side. 

He rose to his feet, wiping a hand over the hair covering his chin as he smiled at you. You sat up slightly, positioning yourself on your forearms as you watched him slide his jeans further down his legs. You were already in this deep; you might as well keep going. Spreading your legs a bit wider, you raised a finger to beckon him closer. 

“C’mon cowboy,” you teased. 

“Y’really need that car, huh?” He smiled, lining his cock up to your entrance. 

“I really do,” you whimpered, nodding your head vigorously. 

Joel eased himself inside you, inch by fucking inch, until he was fully seated at the base of his cock. You both groaned in unison, his cock sliding in and out of you easily from all the juice leaking from you. Crossing your ankles behind his back, you pushed him deeper, mewling at the sensation of the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. You could feel that stinging stretch of your cunt as he picked up his thrusts, your ass sliding up the car each time. 

“Shit, babydoll,” he growled. “S’fucking tight around my cock.”

“You feel so good, Joel,” you hummed. “Please, I need it harder.”

Listening to your pleas, Joel planted his hands on either side of your face, pistoning into you with brute force. He bent down, sucking and biting the skin of your neck until you were crying out from the pain mixing with the pleasure. You rolled your hips to meet him thrust for thrust, your cunt fluttering against his cock each time. That blinding orgasm was on the horizon as your muscles tensed up for its release. Running your hands up under his shirt, you dug your nails into his back muscles, dragging them down his tanned skin. Joel groaned into your ear, his hips snapping against yours harder and faster.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” You sobbed. “I–I’m gonna fucking cum, Joel!”

“Yeah, babydoll? Fuckin’ soak me with it.”

He pulled out at the last moment, a heavy stream of liquid pouring from your cunt and coating your inner thighs and Joel’s cock. Without wasting a second, he drove back into you, picking up the pace despite your body still shaking and dripping from your orgasm. You could feel your tears rolling down the sides of your face, that warmth still coursing inside you. Joel’s thrusts grew erratic and off-rhythm, and you sensed his orgasm was pushing him to the edge. 

“Y’gonna let me fill that pussy, darlin’?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his voice sent shivers up your spine.

“God, please,” you cried.

With one…two…three final strokes, Joel was grunting and painting your insides with thick bursts of his cum. You both lay there limp and fucked out for several moments, catching your breath and chuckling as reality settled back in. He slipped out of you and drew his pants back up his legs, his eyes roaming over your sweaty body. With one hand, he tugged up the zipper of his jeans, using the other to push the cum leaking out of you back into your wet cunt. 

“Gotta send you off with some sort of parting gift,” he laughed.

You couldn’t help but laugh, too, adjusting yourself and sliding off the hood. Joel bent down to ease your pants back over your thighs and hips, helping with your own zipper as you stood awkwardly in front of him. Joel leaned in to kiss your cheek before walking to the corkboard hanging from the wall. Retrieving your keys from one of the hooks, he offered them to you with a kind smile.

“I’m free to go?” You asked, reaching for them. 

He pulled them away, shaking his head with a teasing grin. You pouted sarcastically, opening your hand and waiting.

“One kiss, and we call it even, babydoll.”

You grabbed either side of his face, pulling him in for a hungry kiss. You coaxed his mouth open, teasing your tongue over his, tasting your arousal still lingering on his tongue. Joel deepened the kiss, tangling his free hand in your hair to anchor you closer. Pressed up against him, you found yourself thirsting for more but knew you had no obligation to stay. Sucking his bottom lip between your teeth, you pulled away reluctantly and snatched the keys from his hand. 

“Thanks for the new tires, cowboy,” you grinned. 

Joel dazzled you with another gorgeous smile, the lines around his eyes creasing as he gave you one final nod. You squeezed your way out of his embrace, making your way to the driver's side door. He followed you over, opening it like the gentleman he was, waiting till you were situated inside. Leaning in for one more kiss, he lingered a moment too long before breaking away.

“Safe travels, darlin’. If you ever need some work done, y’know where to find me.”

You dug your keys into the ignition, letting the car rumble awake. Joel shut the car door with one final smile and watched you reverse out of the mechanic shop. Giving him a small wave, you turned onto the street and back toward the highway with a soreness creeping up your thighs.

[attapullman]

Pretend | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: f!reader, light smut, 18+ only as always, unprotected pinv, fake dating trope, one bed trope, lots of switching between present and past tense whoops

A Note From Mo: It's Choose-a-Fic! Thank you to everyone who voted and has been part of my 500 Follower milestone! Hopefully you like the fic I wrote just for you (with a little extra one bed trope as a special thank you)! 😘

Coupe glasses tinkle and laughter rings out as the rehearsal dinner draws toward an end. Everyone’s had a little too much of the hotel’s signature white sangria. On your left, Isabel and Reuben are frozen in blissed smiles, the outdoor lights casting an ethereal glow. An idyllic night before the wedding.

You should be relaxed. You’ve had a little wine, the most delicious dinner, and tomorrow your college roommate is getting married at this stunning resort. But every time that big hand grazes your shoulder or his breath heats the skin of your cheek, you’re reminded none of this is real and you desperately wish it was.

The only difference between six-year-old Robert Floyd and the man standing in front of you is the broad shoulders. Those pink cheeks are just as prominent and his eyes are wide behind updated corrective frames. Sandy hair politely brushed off his face. Even his thin lips warp in that same warm smile that instantly relieves tension. The only significant difference is those shoulders that fill out the entire doorway as he checks his rooming assignment with Isabel.

From where you stand behind her, suitcase in tow, you feel your cheeks warm and your gaze drop. You haven’t seen him since the engagement party where you muttered, “it’s a small world after all” more than once. It seemed all too coincidental that your college roommate would be marrying a guy who just happens to be in the same Navy squadron as your first grade boyfriend. 

To be fair, you had “dated” Bobby Floyd for a total of a week before your parent’s divorce landed you on the opposite side of the country. There hadn’t even been a formal breakup. He’d simply been the guy you jokingly referred to as your “first love” at wine nights. Occasionally you remembered his collection of vintage Coke bottle caps. 

He was practically a figment of your imagination until Isabel introduced you to the man in the nicely ironed pale blue button down and you sputtered out that you already knew each other.

You’re so lost in how bizarre the coincidence of it all is that you zone out through Bob’s check-in and the next few guests that arrive. It’s not until her line of relatives has dwindled that she remembers you’re sat behind her, sorting out the favors for after the reception. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have given you your card earlier!” she apologizes as she flips back over her clipboard to find your room number. It’s all forgiven, you were waiting to finish up your bridesmaid duties before checking in. Get the work out so you can slip on your bathing suit and enjoy the amenities - pool, sun, and cabana boys - before dinner tonight.

She hands you a room card and walks you through the map of the hotel. You miss the second half while gathering up all your items, mentally trying to remember exactly how many rights before a left. Dinner is at seven and anything else surely she will remind you. With a kiss to her cheek, you head off to your room to begin the fun part of this destination wedding.

The property is stunning, all sun-washed sandstone and lush tropical plants. Deep blue terry cloth draped over the sun loungers you would live on all weekend. Some sun to compliment what should be a flawless wedding weekend. Maybe you’d get lucky and one of Reuben’s hot Navy friends would join you for some eye candy. You deserved a little one-weekend-in-paradise romance.

Suite 4. It’s a little deflating to remember that you’re in this big suite alone because all the other bridesmaids have dates. A least you have some privacy. The intricately carved door accepts your room key and you push the heavy wood open, ready to change and relax.

W-why was Bob in your villa?

Standing amongst the floor-to-ceiling windows draped with ochre that overlook the ocean, white oak furnishing topped with plush linen bedding, and a trailing pothos overtaking the wall, was Bob Floyd - right in the middle of changing his shirt. Equally wide eyes taking you in as he held the bunched heathered grey cotton right in front of his head, thumbs through the head hole, mouth open in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

What was he doing in here? This was your room. “Why are you in my room?”

Despite knowing he’s not in the wrong, his cheeks tinge a deep pink. Takes a moment to pop his head in the hole of his shirt and brush out the wrinkles. You cling to to the annoyance of him interrupting your afternoon instead of focusing on how toned he’s gotten as an adult.

“This is my room. Suite 4. See?” He holds up a card identical to yours, the glossy ‘4’ reflecting the sunlight. The same ‘4’ that looks back at you. 

Clearly there’s been some sort of mistake, someone at reception accidentally typing in the wrong number while going about their busy day or Isabel reading her meticulous list wrong. An easy fix. 

You bite your lip. “Oh. Maybe I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll go find Isabel and sort it out.”

“I’ll come with you, she might have handed me the wrong card. Probably supposed to be sharing a bed with Fanboy.” He’s impossibly sweet as always. 

You have no idea who or what a Fanboy is, but you accept his company back to reception, leaving your bag in the room purely because the bridesmaid dress alone weighs a half ton. The walk back there - with a few long turns - is a tad awkward as you both walk in silence, occasionally jerking your heads in the direction to turn.

Isabel has wandered away from reception, and is now soaking in one of the poolside bars with Reuben, their lovesick smiles contagious. She gives you the warmest smile when you approach, face splitting in two as she takes in your companion. “Hey, you two! You get settled in okay?”

God, this is awkward. Thankfully before you can muster the courage, Bob steps in. “I think there’s been a mix up with one of our rooms.”

Her eyebrows furrow as takes in what he said. Eyes flit to her lounger where her clipboard of rooming assignment lies within her tote. Reuben sips his frozen margarita in casual interest, not involved in the logistics.

“Which room are you in?” Even without her clipboard, Isabel is pretty sure she knows who is in what room. She spent months perfecting these details.

You hold up the glossy ‘4’, now slightly sticky with your sweat.

“Four? Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s right. Was there a problem with the key? Both your keys?”

You give her a bewildered look. “One of us has the wrong key. We’re not sharing a room.”

“Why not? Your prude parents aren’t here to care if you share a room with your boyfriend.”

Every muscle in your body freezes. What is she talking about?

And while you’re paralyzed on the spot, Reuben looks like he’s about to throw up the margarita. Because he knows exactly what just happened. And not only is it his fault, but he does not have a solution.

Before you can question Isabel, the pilot is throwing his arm around your shoulders and grabbing Bob’s elbow, whisking you two away, calling out to his confused fiancée not to worry, he’s got it handled. The controlled hands of a fighter pilot steering you back in the way of Suite 4 while his face reads like he’s watching a plane crash.

Reuben won’t answer any of your questions, holding up a palm while you sputter out the who, what, where’s? of what is going on. Bob silently allows himself to be directed, confusion upon his brow, but patient enough to wait for an explanation. 

Once you’re privately within the confines of Suite 4, the soft scent of bergamot and sandalwood wrapped around your bodies, Reuben finally confesses his mistake.

“Isabel thinks you two are dating.”

You expect to see eyeballs on the floor from how violently they pop out of your head. What? Bob doesn’t look much better. You two have barely spoken in decades, let alone are in a relationship! Why in the hell would Isabel think that?

Reuben drags a hand down his face, wishing he was back in the pool drinking. “When Bob over here told me that you two dated way back, I casually mentioned it to Is. When she asked the other week if he’d be good sharing a room, I thought she meant Fanboy or Harvard.”

You skip over the fact that Bob has talked about you to other people to focus on the details. “She meant me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” By this point he’s rubbing the skin on the back of his neck raw, eyes wildly desperate. “Can you two share? It’s only two nights.”

Your eyes meet ocean blue as you both look at the single bed, then at each other. Bob intervenes calmly. “Why can’t you just tell her we need another room?”

Reuben crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “We don’t have any other rooms. We booked the place out entirely. Short of Aunt Muriel keeling over, one of you would have to be at another hotel.”

“That’s fine,” you quip, grabbing your suitcase and ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“There’s nothing within a half hour drive. And you’re both in the wedding, that is not going to fly with Isabel.”

You’re tough, you can do hard things. Two nights at a gorgeous resort where you have to share a king-sized bed with the sweetest man on the planet? Could be so much worse. From a look at Bob’s face, he’s having the same realization.

And right as you’re about to tell Reuben that it’s not a big deal, he sends in the clincher. 

“You’re also gonna have to pretend you’re dating.”

“You’re joking.” Your tinny voice rings out in the room. You can do a lot of things - go to a wedding alone, sleep in the same bed as Bob - but you draw the line at pretending you’re dating someone you hadn’t seen until an engagement party six months ago. Nope, no way.

You look at Bob, standing with his hand resting low on his hip, watching this entire scene unfold. Giving him an expectant look, he smooths out his face and gives you a little nod. He’s on whatever team you’re on.

And just as you were about to tell Reuben to get lost, Isabel’s sweet face floods your mind’s eye. That happy smile she always greets you with, and her dismay that something had gone wrong with your room. Her perfectly planned out wedding weekend ruined by her misunderstanding a minor detail. She would insist that you have separate rooms, even if it interfered with plans, and she’d be upset - the smallest tinge of disappointment clouding her bridal smile.

Isn’t the job of a bridesmaid to make the bride not have disappointment?

And now, sitting here at the rehearsal dinner, warm conversation all around you, you can still hear yourself let out a large huff of breath and agree. “Alright, we can pretend for the weekend.”

It’s a decision you stand by, but doesn’t make the subtle way Bob has been playing your boyfriend the last 24 hours any easier. He plays devoted partner a little too well. Carrying your beach bag down to the water that afternoon when everyone wanted to sit by the pool, sweetly rubbing sunscreen into that spot on your back that you can never reach. Grabbing a drink for you when he went up to the bar. 

Your lonely wedding weekend is suddenly filled with this broad-shouldered Navy man who gives you a shy smile every time you make eye contact.

There wasn’t time to put in ground rules before Reuben threw you you to the wolves to socialize with the rest of the wedding party. When Isabel saw you, standing a healthy foot away from Bob and her sculpted eyebrow raised, it was the first test of this “relationship”. Your heart slamming in your chest as you slipped a hand around that thick bicep and rested your hot cheek against his shoulder. His own face fighting anxiety as he allowed you to set the pace. Isabel’s smile brightening as she beckoned you closer, instantly fawning over the two of you and the way Bob’s hand fits a little too nicely around your waist.

Thankfully the copious amount of relatives and friends constantly interrupting Isabel and Reuben prevented your friend investigating too close into this development in your love life. Happy to believe over some intentionally placed hands and the casual way he throws sweetheart in when asking if you want a drink.

“Now that I have you alone, why didn’t you tell me you were together? First loves reunited?!” Isabel drags you away to the other bridesmaids, Bob giving you a small wave as he joins the men. 

You shrug, making a show of looking at the hibiscus to avoid her eyes. Desperate for a believable lie. “I didn’t want to…uh, distract from your big day?”

She wraps you in a warm hug you don’t deserve. “Not distracting in the slightest. He’s the best, you’re so lucky!”

You throw a glance his way, watching his good-natured grin as Reuben’s groomsmen, mostly aviators he’s worked with over the years, joke and jostle on the other side of the lawn. It’s side glances like these that carry through the night; when he pulls your chair out for dinner, asks the waiter to refill your water, and offers you half of his dessert. When your eyes do meet, you drown in the twin oceans that twinkle back at you.

By the time you’re heading back to Suite 4 to share that big bed, you’re pretty sure you’re not pretending to like him anymore.

You’re regretting not putting up the pillow barrier Bob so kindly offered to set up. It seemed childish at the time - you didn’t need a divider to stay on your side of the bed - but now you’re lying here in your little cotton pajamas you did not expect anyone to see and you can hear him breathing and the room is a little too warm. Every sense is on high alert and a pillow barrier would give you an inkling of privacy.

In the silhouette of the moonlight peaking through the curtains, you watch the planes of Bob’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you. If he’s good looking in the daytime, he’s breathtaking at night. Pale eyelashes against his cheeks, lips slightly pouted, hair mussed from changing sides. You wish you could smooth your fingers over the planes of his face, appreciate the sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks.

Tomorrow you have to pretend all over again to be in love with him. A feeling that’s already starting to creep inside you. A whole day of his gentle touches and laughs against your cheek. He was the perfect boyfriend that week in grade school, and even more perfect as an adult. Holding his hand made you want to never let go…which promptly made you want to jump out of your skin. 

This was a tiny white lie to get through Sunday morning. That was it.

You keep replaying the last moment before you retired back to your hotel room for the night. The drunken group sitting around the fire pit, a bottle of tequila making its way around the circle. Not enough chairs so you ended up in Bob’s lap, body cradled in the firm comfort of his chest. 

He made it so natural, the way his hand ran up and down your arm when you shivered in the night chill. You knew he could feel the shock up your spine when you noticed how intently he watched you during your story of how Isabel found a rat in your dorm room. He made you feel like the only person out there by the fire pit. The only person on this island.

When even the tequila couldn’t keep you warm any longer, the group disbanded in favor of cozy beds and hot showers. And even when no one else was in sight he still kept his arm around your shoulder to share his warmth, the pinching heels you’d shed in his hand as he asked whether you wanted to shower first.

Lips accidentally brushing your ear when he said he liked your dress; it matched the bougainvillea.

While you hadn’t spent much time together since your parents moved you away too long ago to remember, you were continually floored by how thoughtful he was still. He remembered how Isabel didn’t like ice, and that a few members of his squadron had allergies. Giving up his water because the woman next to him was without. Not to mention how he seemed to go the extra mile with you. All the years of boyfriends before this and not a single one had ever noticed you picked the pine nuts out of your salad; your new fake boyfriend requesting a fresh one sans nuts.

And it was borderline torture watching him get ready for bed post shower. Face and chest red from the scalding water and slick hair pushed back, towel slung a little too low as he dug through his suitcase. You were still speechless as he offered to put up a pillow barrier or something if it would make you more comfortable, making sure you knew he respected your boundaries.

His eyes were so blue without his glasses…

Caution to the wind, you run a finger over his cheek, brushing away a rogue eyelash and promptly turn away from him. Only one more day and you would be free of wanting a man that wasn’t yours.

The Fitch wedding day was perfect. Wide smiles, bridal lace, stunning hydrangeas, and not a dry eye in the house when Isabel and Reuben officially became husband and wife. It was the storybook start to a happy ever after. 

The sunlight blessed ceremony was followed by a lantern-lit reception, dancing and drinking overtaking the sprawling beach-front lawn of the hotel. You stayed out until the evening ended, the wedding party laughing and overfilling glasses of champagne until the last lantern was blown out. 

You barely remembered your rooming/relationship situation until a warm hand was on your forearm, asking if you were ready to go back to the room. It’s entirely unfair how good he looks in his suit. All day you’ve admired it, from the moment he emerged from the bathroom asking for help with his bow tie to an hour ago, when the wedding party did one last rendezvous on the dance floor. 

Bob has an ease on the dance floor, clearly practiced, the hand on the small of your back gently guiding. A hand big and warm and more distracting than trying to remember your own footwork. The dark-haired woman he seems close with whooping out, “Look at those moves, Floyd!” every time you get close, her own date cheering along. 

You shake the memory from your brain as Bob walks you back to the room. Keep the pining to a minimum until you can get to the airport and not have to see him ever again. You’re doing this for Isabel, your own emotions have no place. Even as you watch him open the door to the room and welcome you inside, looking so perfectly boyfriend-shaped.

Your skin feels too hot, your head clouded by bubbles and loud poppers exploding into the sky. Shedding this satin dress and getting into a warm shower sounds like heaven, washing away the buzzing ill-content flooding your body since you joined the wedding group that morning hand-in-hand with Bob. But a broken zipper interrupts those plans.

“Bob?” He stills on his way to the bathroom, bow tie loose around his neck. You indicate to the stuck zipper you’re fiddling with, warmth flaring at the top of your cheeks at your predicament.

The tips of his ears flush as he walks to you, chest a breath away from your back, admiring the way the satin flows over your curves and dips. Takes a moment to gather your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the zipper. The skin of his pinky accidentally brushes your neck, twin breaths catching at the shock. 

Firm fingers guide the zipper onto the track. As they guide the cool metal down your back, the boiling point that has been simmering below the surface since yesterday afternoon comes to a head. The lace of your bra is visible. Now the silken band of your underwear. The air of the room is still, eagerly awaiting what happens next.

While his voice is shaky, his words are firm. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your head turns to the side, eyes catching his profile, too scared to look at him directly. 

“What are you pretending to do?”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, fingers tightening along the satin of your hips. “Pretending I’m doing our friends a favor. Pretending I’m not falling for you. Pretending every time I touch you it’s not the best part of my day.”

Your hand wraps around his, rough skin and satin beneath your fingers. Needing to tether yourself to reality to make sure this isn’t a champagne-fueled dream that he’s professing against your neck. 

“In that case, I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

While you can’t see him, you can feel his realization against your skin. Brow furrowing, lips parting. The soft brush of his nose as he straightens up, uses his hands to turn you to him. Finally forced to look at each other amidst the information divulged.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, who braved the waters of uncharted territory. Time stills and speeds up as his face grows closer. The scent of sandalwood and bergamot that’s followed you all weekend replaced by the woodsy mint of his cologne you’ve treated yourself to when tucked into his side. Anyone outside can hear two hearts beating erratically, anxious and excited. 

His lips are warm and comforting, just like everything else about him. Pressing delicately against yours, taking his time and letting you set the pace. You’re torn between the shock of how divine he feels and the greedy need for more. Senses overwhelmed by him; you want to taste more, feel more, see more.

When he pulls away, a gentleman not wanting to overstep, you’re breathless.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” His confession is paired with pink cheeks and large hands playing with your fingers. 

You can’t help but to tease him, the banter from your childhood coming back. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“Way, way better.” Your smile is swallowed in his kiss, chins knocking as you trade off enthusiasm. A groan leaving Bob as you grab his hands and walk back to the bathroom. That hot shower still sounds amazing, but you need more of him.

The travertine tiles glow in the soft light as you watch your childhood love remove his suit, taking time to fold the pieces on the counter, letting you indulge in unbuttoning his crisp shirt as you share another sweet kiss. His own hands twisted in the dress barely clinging to your skin. The sounds that escape him as your hands explore his chest are purely sinful, meant only for your ears.

He barely lets you bask in his body, honed from years of Naval training, before he’s stripping the satin from your frame. You beg for another kiss, but he denies you. He can’t be distracted from watching every inch of skin being revealed. From letting his fingers follow the fabric as it pools at your feet. From kissing his way back up your body until your head falls back against the wall, fingers beckoning him to the shower.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s more breath than words, but ignite the goose flesh along your skin as he adjusts the hot water and shower head to your liking.

Minutes or hours passed as you reacquainted under the steam. Your fingers tangled in wet strands of sandy hair, fingers slipping along any skin you can reach. His own hands tightly hugging your body, holding you close as he appreciates your nude form. Swallowing each other’s moans as his fingers dip between your folds and you run your palm along his shaft.

The universe has ceased to exist by the time Bob kisses you against the shower wall, fingers wrapping under your thighs to hoist you to his level. Loving the way you giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, trusting him wholeheartedly. Eyes trained at where he lines up with you, relishing the way your breath catches in anticipation. He kisses your forehead as a promise to take care of you, a promise you know he’ll keep.

Once he’s seated deep in you, the moment about connecting rather than getting off, he tilts your head up to check in with you. A kiss as his eyes search you for discomfort. The flames of his eyes burning the brightest blue. One final clench around him and he knows he needs to move; if not for his sake, for yours.

It’s the most glorious dream as he fills you completely, hips rocking into yours as sweaty foreheads meet.

When he brings you to orgasm, a steamy moment punctuated by your muffled screams against his shoulder, there’s nothing fake about the affection as he peppers you with praise. Or when he fills you with his own release a moment later, exhaling thank you, thank you, thank you.

A pillow barrier isn’t even discussed as you lay in his arms that night, cheek against bare chest. His arm trails down your arm like it had the night before, a mindless action you now recognize as meaningful to him as to you. Sated and content, as it should be.

You sit up a little to run your nose along his neck, producing a low groan from him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, after that,” you gesture to the shower, cheeks heating, “does this mean we’re, uh, dating again?”

He smiles at your flush, cupping your face with one of his large hands. Presses the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“You know, we never had a break up. Technically we’ve been dating this whole time.”

taglist: @bella-maria2018 @berryvanille @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @desert-fern @drxgxnslxyer @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @mariaenchanted @maryelizabeth13 @petersunderoos96 @roosterforme @seitmai @senawashere @sometimesanalice @sorchathered @sweetwhispersofchaos @topherwrites @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

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[mcrdvcks]

Call It What You Want

Summary: A single sneeze turns into something more, at least to your husband Logan.

Word Count: 1.9k+

Pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Notes: i'm feeling a bit sick and i remember i had written this a while ago so here it is :)

i actually have a few other ideas and short oneshots written in this universe so i might upload some more sporadically

(also thank you for 500 followers! really means a lot to me <3)

Warnings/tags: sickness (sneezing, stuffy nose), reader has powers (sonic screams), pet names (darlin', baby, sweetheart)

A simple sneeze. That’s how it started.

You and Logan were in your shared bedroom, both at your respective desks, grading papers in silence. The quiet was only interrupted by the occasional sound of paper rustling or the scratch of a pen. It was peaceful, really. Until you sneezed into your elbow, trying not to make a big deal of it.

Logan glanced over, raising an eyebrow but not saying anything at first. You grabbed a tissue and blew your nose, tossing it into the wastebasket nearby.

"That time of year again?" Logan asked, his deep voice cutting through the quiet.

"Maybe," you replied, rubbing your nose. "’m fine."

He let out a low chuckle, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. “Yeah, ‘cause you always say you’re fine, then next thing I know you’re curled up under six blankets, complainin’ about not bein’ able to breathe.” He walked over, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"I’m not always like that," you protested, looking up at him with a small smile.

"Sure, princess." Logan smirked, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. “But if you’re gettin’ sick, you should rest. You work too hard.”

"I don’t have time to be sick." You glanced at the pile of essays that still needed grading. “Besides, these students aren’t going to grade themselves.”

"Bet you I could convince Chuck to get a telepath to grade these for ya," Logan teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Now, go lay down.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth spreading through your chest at his concern. "Logan, I’m fine. It’s just a sneeze."

"Uh-huh," he grumbled. “Just a sneeze, until it ain’t.”

"I’ll be fine," you insisted. "Besides, you're not the boss of me."

Logan smirked again, his voice dropping to that low, gruff tone that always made your stomach flip. "Ain’t I though?"

You shot him a playful glare, knowing exactly where this was going. "No, you’re not."

He tilted his head, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Alright, darlin’… but if you start feelin’ worse, you better let me take care of ya. You hear?"

You smiled, unable to help it. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine, tough guy."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft kiss before pulling back. "You better be. Ain’t in the mood to deal with a cranky version of you.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Like you’re never cranky.”

“I’m lovable,” he grunted, moving back to his desk. "You, on the other hand…”

“I’m adorable,” you finished for him, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

You turned back to your papers, feeling the slightest tickle in your nose again. "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh?" Logan repeated, eyeing you cautiously.

And then, you sneezed again—this time louder. The vibration from your powers caused a low hum in the room, the soundwaves vibrating through the air, making the picture frames on the wall tremble slightly.

Logan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "That didn’t sound like just a sneeze, baby."

You winced, looking around at the small vibrations that still lingered in the room. "Oops."

He sighed, walking back over to you. "Come on, Y/N, that’s your body tellin’ you to take a break." He bent down to your level, his face now inches from yours. "Or do I need to carry ya to bed?"

You bit your lip, trying to keep the smirk from your face. "You wouldn’t."

"Wanna test me?" Logan’s voice was low, full of challenge.

You tilted your head, pretending to think about it. "Well, when you put it that way…”

Without another word, Logan scooped you up from your chair, making you let out a surprised laugh. “Logan! Put me down!”

“Nope,” he said, carrying you toward the bed with ease. “You had your chance, sweetheart.”

You kicked your feet lightly in protest but didn’t really try to escape. Being wrapped up in his arms was hardly a punishment. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yup,” he agreed, laying you down gently on the bed and pulling the covers up over you. “Now, you’re gonna stay right here, and I’m gonna make sure you’re comfortable.”

You crossed your arms, but a smile was already spreading across your face. “You’re overreacting.”

“Am I?” Logan raised an eyebrow, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Remember the last time you got sick? You nearly took out half the mansion with your soundwaves ‘cause you were sneezin’ so much.”

You sighed, relenting. “Okay, maybe a little rest won’t hurt.”

Logan grinned, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Atta girl.”

You settled back into the pillows, the warmth of the blankets and Logan’s presence making you feel more relaxed. “Thanks, Logan,” you said softly.

He gave you a soft smile, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Anytime, darlin’. Now get some rest before you blow up the whole room.”

---

After days of trying to convince Logan, and the others, that it was just allergies, Logan had enough. He had dragged you to Jean after you finished teaching your first class of the day, and after accidentally shattering your computer screen with your sneeze.

Jean was already prepared, a bottle of cough syrup on a nearby medical table. “See? Told you it was a cold,” she said, holding up the bottle like it was proof.

You groaned, slumping in the chair next to her. “It’s just a little cold, Jean. You all act like I’m on my deathbed.”

Logan crossed his arms, standing behind you. “That little cold shattered a computer screen, Y/N. If it wasn’t for your powers, maybe we’d take your word for it, but—” He gestured vaguely with his hand. “We’ve seen what happens.”

Jean smirked at Logan’s comment but quickly turned her attention back to you. “He’s right, you know. We’ve got to be careful with your powers. Your body’s trying to rest, and that includes your control.”

You shot Logan a half-hearted glare. “You dragged me here for this?”

“Yup,” he replied, entirely unbothered. “And now that you’re here, Jean’s gonna make sure you actually take care of yourself.”

Jean held out the bottle of syrup. “Bottoms up.”

You stared at it like it was some sort of punishment. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Logan let out a chuckle, moving to stand beside you, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Come on, princess, just take the damn syrup. The faster you do, the faster we get back to our room.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you took the bottle from Jean’s hand and downed the syrup. The taste made you wince, and you immediately regretted it. “Ugh, that’s awful.”

Jean patted you on the back, her smile widening. “It’ll help, though. Now, you’ll need rest, fluids, and minimal stress. I don’t want to see you teaching for a couple of days, at least.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Logan cut you off before you could say anything. “You heard the doc, darlin’. No teaching, no grading. Just rest.”

You turned in your seat to look up at him, narrowing your eyes. “It’s just a cold. I’m not dyin’ or anything.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smirk. "Not dyin’, huh? Try tellin’ that to your computer screen."

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in the chair with a groan. "That was an accident, and you know it."

"Doesn’t matter," he shot back, folding his arms across his chest. “Still proves my point.”

Jean chuckled from where she stood, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Logan’s right, Y/N. Your body’s using up energy to fight this cold, and with your powers, that means less control. It’s not just about you—it's about keeping everyone around you safe.”

You narrowed your eyes at Logan. “You’re really milking this, aren’t you?”

Logan didn’t even try to hide the grin on his face. “Oh yeah. And I’ll keep doin’ it ‘til you get your stubborn ass to bed.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I hate when you’re right.”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Get used to it, sweetheart. Happens more often than you’d like.”

Jean smiled warmly at the two of you, shaking her head. “Okay, lovebirds. I’ll give you some privacy while Y/N gets some rest. Logan, make sure she takes it easy.”

Logan nodded as Jean left the room, then turned back to you with a smug look. “So, no more arguments, right?”

You glared at him, but it lacked any real heat. “Fine. But just so you know, when I’m better, I’m gonna remind you of this moment. Payback’s a bitch, Logan.”

He chuckled again, unphased. “I’ll take my chances, darlin’.” Then, without warning, he bent down and scooped you up in his arms again.

"Logan!" You yelped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Making sure you actually rest," he replied, his voice casual as if carrying you around was the most normal thing in the world. “Figured this way, there’s no chance of you sneakin’ back to your desk.”

You tried to fight back a smile, though it was nearly impossible when you were cradled against him like this. “I wasn’t gonna sneak back.”

“Sure, princess,” he said, clearly not believing you for a second. “But just in case.”

He carried you back to your shared bedroom, gently setting you down on the bed and pulling the covers over you. He gave you a stern look, but there was warmth behind his eyes. "Stay."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You act like I’m a dog.”

"Not a dog,” Logan corrected, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Just a stubborn wife who doesn’t know when to quit."

You reached up to swat at his arm playfully. “I’m not that bad.”

He caught your hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “You’re worse, but I still love ya.”

Your heart swelled at the soft look in his eyes, and for a moment, you forgot all about your cold. “I love you too,” you murmured.

Logan’s expression softened even further, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Now rest, sweetheart. You need it.”

You sighed, snuggling deeper into the blankets. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

Logan chuckled, leaning down to kiss your forehead once more. “I’ll take it.”

He stood up, moving toward the door, but you called after him. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

He stopped, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “What, miss me already?”

You rolled your eyes, but your tone softened. “Maybe. Just a little.”

Logan’s smirk turned into a genuine smile as he made his way back to the bed. “Alright, darlin’. I’ll stay.”

He kicked off his boots and slid into bed next to you, pulling you into his arms. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For a moment, the cold, the shattered computer, and everything else melted away. All that mattered was the warmth of his embrace.

"You’re lucky I love you," you mumbled, already feeling yourself start to drift off.

Logan chuckled softly, his hand running through your hair. “Damn right, I am."

As sleep began to claim you, Logan’s steady presence beside you was the last thing you felt, a reminder that no matter how tough things got—or how stubborn you were—he’d always be there, ready to hold you close and make sure you were safe.

[utterlyotterlyx]

Another Love

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Based on this ask

Summary - Azriel knows you'd never leave his side, no matter what, but when his new situationship with Elain takes over his every living moment and he takes advantage of your feelings, you make the only decision you can to save yourself only for him to hurt you in a way you never thought he could.

Warnings - ANGST, mega fluff, swearing, neglect, abuse of feelings, mentions of death, slight grovelling (I’m more of an epic admissions girlie you all know this), lots of sadness.

Word Count - 4.9k oops

The clock ticked away, idly counting the seconds by, seconds that turned to minutes, and minutes that turned to hours, hours that Azriel had seemingly forgotten about the promise he had made to take you to the theatre.

The cobalt blue bow in your hair, that you had chosen to perfectly match him, swayed sadly as you moved about your room with a heavy heart, hanging up the dress you had bought especially for the occasion and changing into something more comfortable to wallow in self-pity.

It had become normal, his lateness, his nightly visits became later and shorter until they had stopped all together, well, that is until he needed something from you, and you would give him whatever he asked for, no matter how much it hurt you.

You had been a part of the Inner Circle for over 500 years, you were one of the originals, growing up in the camps with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel, Rhys' mother protected you fiercely, and you were very close to Selene, your chosen sister. You were the one they turned to for everything, you were wise and brutal, an incredible warrior and tactician, but also soft and kind; you were the blue break in a sky of storm clouds, you were the spring breeze that cut through the edge of winter, you were everything.

A thing Azriel knew all too well.

It didn't surprise you when Azriel had become fond of Elain, like it didn't surprise you when he had pined after Mor for all those years, completely looking over you in the process. Elain was a soft and fragile thing, she was quiet and graceful, and Azriel was completely besotted by her. A fact that made your heart curse your stupidity, cursing the hope you had willed into it that maybe he would finally see you.

It was no secret that you and Azriel were the closest out of all of the members of your growing family, you had shared 500 years of respect and adoration for one another.

Azriel was by your side when Selene had so brutally lost her life, he had held your hand through the depression and brought you back to life. Azriel knew every single thing that you loved and hated, he knew what every facial expression meant, he knew every tick of your body language which silently conveyed how you were feeling. Azriel knew you better than anyone, even better than he knew himself. The map of you laid etched bare on the back of his hand, a map he used to scour daily, but now barely even glanced at.

It wasn't so one sided.

You knew Azriel better than anything, and you knew a lot. 500 years of life pointed to a rich knowledge. You were the one who cleaned him up after a mission, you're the one who mended his broken bones and washed his turmoil away. You were the one who helped him overcome his insecurities with his hands. You were the one his shadows shot to at family dinners. You were the one who sang him to sleep when his demons had become to much. There was nothing you wouldn't do for Azriel, even if it meant standing on the side-lines until he wanted you.

Moonlight streaked along the floor of your bedroom, cascading across the pale blue of your comforter and drifting along the edges of your antique furniture. The dress you had wanted to wear to the theatre hung off the frame of your mirror, rippling softly in the gentle breeze that entered through the slightly ajar window.

It was silly to feel upset, you knew Azriel didn't owe you any of his time, but you had really thought he would pull through, especially after you had told him how much you missed spending time with him.

Interrupting your damaging thoughts, your door opened to reveal Azriel, who looked annoyed and not at all in knowing of his lateness or the promise that now lay in tatters in your chest. From the look on his face, you knew instantly that Elain was the one who plagued his mind, she was the cause of it every time he had come to see you recently.

Huffing, Azriel trudged to your cream living area, propping his feet up on the antique table you had asked him to be careful with far too many times and sinking into the cushions. He hadn't spared you a glance as he entered, he didn't note his colour in the form of a bow in your perfectly styled hair, he didn't see the sadness in your eyes laced with that naïve hope that he may have turned up to apologise for being late. He didn't see you.

"What happened this time?" You inquired, wrapping yourself tighter into your robe and sliding into the seat beside him, tucking your legs underneath you and propping your head in your palm as you stared at him.

Azriel was beautiful, scars and demons and all, the height of his cheekbones, those hazel oceans of a thousand emotions, the golden skin and arched brows, the curve of his muscles under his second skin, everything about him was intoxicating.

"Lucien," Azriel through his head back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose, "I was so close to kissing her, so close, Y/N. And then Lucien walked in, he ruined it."

The revelation had stung, he'd never admitted to you to being close to kissing Elain before, it was always a myriad of stolen glances and ghosting touches, of hushed words laced with a million differing meanings. But never a kiss.

Azriel paid no mind to the hurt that radiated from you, he knew it was there, he always knew it was there but he couldn't focus on it.

Only an idiot could be blind to the clear feelings you had toward Azriel, the way you looked at him was not the way a friend looked at another friend, no matter how close they were. Azriel knew that he could never truly push you away, no matter how much you were hurting you'd never leave, he knew that, he knew you'd always be there for him to fall into.

It was so awfully wrong, but he lapped in serenity you gave him, in that unwavering loyalty, and he had no intention to stop drinking from your fountain of love.

"Lucien is her mate, Az. He's bound to not like whatever it is that's going on between you," your voice was gentle and full of understanding, your hand rested on his shoulder and he felt any anger disappear almost immediately. That's what your touch alone could do to him, bring him immeasurable peace.

"I know," he sighed, opening his eyes and turning his head to the side to look at you, a small smile tugged at his lips when he noticed how pretty you looked, with your hair parted just how he liked it, and with a bow tied neatly at the back, "I still think that the cauldron was wrong," your face faltered when he immediately continued on his weekly rant, "It gets it wrong sometimes, we know that. It's wrong, it has to be."

All you wanted was for Azriel to be happy, he deserved it more than anyone you knew. Rhys had found Feyre, who you adored tremendously. Cassian had found Nesta, who had become a very good friend of yours. So, you couldn't blame Azriel for believing that Elain was fated to be his, three brothers for three sisters. Even you had to admit that it made sense, The Mother moved in mysterious ways.

You plastered a smile on your face, you vision catching the satin of your new dress moving softly against the breeze, "Maybe it is," Azriel hummed at your words before continuing on, listing everything he adored about Elain.

"I wish sometimes that she was you, you know? That her and I could be like this, with no one watching over us, to be able to spend time alone and do whatever we wanted to do and talk about anything," it was like he didn't realise what he exactly he was wishing for.

Azriel wanted you to be Elain, so that he could have the life he dreamed of. Elain. Not you. Elain.

You weren't good enough for him.

"I hope you get to that point one day, Az," your voice was strained from holding in your strangled sobs, "I'm tired, can we talk about this more tomorrow?"

"Sure," Azriel smiled at you, rising from his seat and heading to the door, standing in the doorway and looking back at your form still glued to your spot, "I like your bow, Y/N. Blue suits you, always has," and then he closed the door behind him, you waited a few moments before letting your sobs flow through your lips and ripping that damned bow from your hair.

Azriel would never see you the way you begged to be seen, and you couldn't sit around and be the one he fell back to when life wasn't going his way.

More days had passed, more days of Azriel complaining to you, more days of Azriel wishing that Elain and you had switched paths so that he could finally get what he was owed.

Azriel didn't care for your tear stained skin, he didn't care for your weary eyes whenever you spoke of Elain to you.

It was awful that he knew exactly what he was doing, he was abusing your relationship with him, he knew you'd never walk away from him, he knew you'd never be able to put your foot down and tell him to cut it out.

The idea of a mate had him completely obsessed, obsessed to the point that he became blind to what was right in front of him, what had always been in front of him. That blind faith in your loyalty crumbled in his fingers once Rhys had told him that you had decided to purchase your own home in the city, a home away from them all.

"What?" Azriel had asked from his place at the dinner table, bewildered by the news given to them once he had asked where you were.

Nesta knew the exact reason why you had decided you separate yourself from them, you couldn't handle the rejection anymore, and you couldn't begin to heal from the decades worth of heartbreak under the same roof as Azriel and Elain. Nesta knew you held no ill feeling toward her youngest sister, you were too kind for that, you knew it wasn't her fault that Azriel came to you each time something went wrong in their situationship, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"She left, Az," Mor had cried when Rhys had pulled her to one side that afternoon to tell her that you had decided to move into the home that Rhys had bought you after you had made it clear that you needed your own space, and Rhys had spent an hour trying to convince his cousin that your decision was not impacted by anything any of them did.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Azriel asked his brother who frowned, Feyre grabbed Rhys' hand and squeezed it in hers, "She can't just leave, Rhys."

"She has every right to after everything she's done for all of us, she deserves some peace," Rhys spoke calmly, snapping his fingers and allowing the sentient home to rid the plates and serving dishes from the table.

Azriel was speechless, he felt a frantic pull in his body, one that was poisoned with desperation at the thought of you being anywhere else than under the roof of the River House, the home you had spent a century redecorating and perfecting, paying special attention to each room to make it feel as homely as possible.

He didn't believe it as his chair groaned against the floor and he took off up the stairs toward your room, pushing his way through the doors to find it completely empty. No pictures hanging on the walls, no lines of hooks containing an array of ribbons in different hues, no dresses draped over your mirror, no antique furniture. It was all gone, and the scent of you that was usually so strong that it drowned him was a whisper in the atmosphere.

You had left.

Anger bubbled within him, how could you leave without saying anything? How could you move out of your shared home without a single word? How could you leave him after 500 years at his side?

Azriel flung open the doors to your balcony, a balcony plush with fresh flowers and greenery, he flexed his wings and hurtled himself into the starlit sky, allowing his shadows to peel from his body and search every inch of Velaris until they returned to him reeking of your scent and pulled him down to a small townhouse along the bank of the Sidra.

It was a charming home, pale brickwork, large bay windows, golden light emitting from them, and a large garden full of rich wildlife and botanicals. Your scent flowed from the closed oak door, lavender and honey with a hint of firewood and he found himself following that smell up the winding path until he was knocking on your door.

Golden light flowed from the home as you opened the door. You were dressed in denim overalls that were spatted with cream paint, you hair was loosely bound on the top of your head, and your face was full of uneasy surprise as you looked at him, "Az, what are you doing here?"

Azriel pushed past you and stood in the centre of your hallway, listening to your deep exhale as you closed the door. The space was pretty, it was very you, the walls were half painted cream from their original sage colour that you were obviously painting over, the coving was white and saturated with intricate little sketches of leaves, the carpet was a rich brown and had clearly been laid that day from how interrupted it looked, the only pattern on it being the imprints of your bare feet. Azriel didn't stop his shadows as they extended from him and scoured each part of your new home, nodding with approval and curling around your fingers in understanding adoration.

White sheets were draped over your perfectly placed furniture, to protect it from the paint no doubt, and the same tarp lay at the foot of the walls to protect the carpet. Music drifted softly about the room, and boxes upon boxes of books lay open, with some of them idly placed on shelves to get them out of the way to be sorted properly at a later date.

"It's true? You've really left," he noted the intricately presented kitchen, white cabinets and exposed wooden beams, just like you always wanted.

You rounded him, walking into your new living space, bending down to pick up one of your plant pots before placing it on the window ledge, your back faced him but he could see the pain in your features through the reflection in the window, "Yes, I live here now."

"No. No. You're coming home with me, this is ridiculous," his heart was beating a mile a minute, he couldn't think straight, all that was consuming him was the reality that his fear had come to fruition, that the one person he believed would never leave him had actually walked away.

"I'm not coming back, Azriel," you told him softly, and he saw your shoulders rise and fall with each deep inhale of breath you forced your lungs to take.

Then you turned to him, in the middle of the home that you were trying to make yours, a home away from him, "I thought you'd never leave me. You can't leave me. You're my best friend, I need you."

"No, you don't. You need someone to fall back onto when life isn't going your way, that's all I am to you now," you felt your heart breaking, you felt it shattering in your chest, "I can't be the one you turn to when something becomes between you and Elain. I can't be the one you wish was her. I can't do it anymore, Az. You've taken advantage of me for too long. You promise me the world and show up empty handed. You don't realise I even exist until you need someone to complain to and I just can't do it anymore."

Azriel knew every word you were saying was the truth, he knew he had been using you, but he never expected you to actually walk away from him, you were supposed to love him too much to leave.

Your heart was in the palm of his hands and he knew it, he knew you'd spent hundreds of years falling deeper in love with him each passing day whilst he pined for someone else. The fact of your departure made a bitter monster appear in his mind, he allowed it to tug on the venom in his heart, he allowed it to control him, "Aren't you supposed to be in love with me?"

Azriel watched your eyes widen and a breathless gasp fall from your lips, "You know?"

The Shadowsinger scoffed, "Of course I know. Only a fool wouldn't be able to see it," he saw your face contort into painful sorrow but did nothing to stop himself from saying, "I've known for years. I've known that you'd never leave, you've always been the one that I come to for anything I need and you never complain or tell me to leave. You made it easy to take advantage of you."

A tear slid down your cheek but Azriel made no move to wipe it away, "I want you to leave."

"I'm not leaving without you."

Fire roared in your eyes, "You have no right to command me after what you've knowingly done. I honestly thought that you didn't know, that it was innocent and that you just needed my advice. Now I know that you've willingly abused my kindness, Azriel, you can rot in hell," the tears didn't stop flowing from your eyes, your voice was strained and sore, your chest was so tight that you thought it may stop beating all together, "Get. Out!"

Azriel had left you then, he had left your door wide open and soared into the skies, leaving you in the home that was now tainted by his deceit.

It had been months since Azriel had seen you, Nesta and Feyre had practically forbid him from going anywhere near your home, that being from the land or sky. But that didn't stop him from allowing his shadows to slither under your front door or linger in the streets, he was desperate to know how you were.

Azriel hated himself for what he had said to you, he hated himself for taking advantage of you. In some way he tried to justify it, you were too good for him, he didn't want to ruin you, but it was clear that he already had.

Your absence had left a void that no one could fill, not even Elain despite her efforts, even the thought of her made his stomach drop and sickness swirl to the point where he couldn't bring himself to be around her. All Elain did was remind him of how he failed you.

Azriel had tried writing to you since you wouldn't see him, he gave the letters to Feyre and Nesta, the latter of which still saw your daily, and grew colder toward him with each passing moment. Even Cassian did nothing to hide his disappointment in him, and Rhys had some very telling words to express once Feyre had told him the truth of what had happened in your home that night.

Nothing was working, things with Elain were strained and difficult, the problems between them so raw and everyone's opinions so disapproving that it created a distance between them that was unmanageable.

Then it dawned on him that nothing was working with Elain because it wasn't meant to. The person who was meant to be his had been under his nose for 500 years, and now wanted nothing to do with him.

Cassian had pulled Azriel from his thoughts by stepping through the threshold of his room, "Are you coming to training?"

"Tell me how to fix it," Azriel lifted his head from his hands and turned his head toward Cassian who sighed in reply, moving to the bed to sit beside Azriel, "I need to know how to fix it."

"Only you can figure that out, Az," Cassian spoke to him, throwing his arm over Azriel's shoulder before continuing, "Y/N loves you Az, she has for 500 years. A few months apart won't change that. You're really fucking stupid for this though, she's the only one of us who knew the exact right thing to do and say every time. Y/N deserves more than the basic requirements of respect, she deserves the world in the palm of her hand and a person who loves her more than he loves himself. Don't bother her unless you can do that."

It was the anniversary of Selene's death, and the day hadn't gotten any easier for you to deal with.

Rhys and you had made a habit of doing something together each year, though, Azriel was the one to accompany you when Rhys had gone Under the Mountain. The location was sacred to you, you and Rhys would bundle yourselves up in blankets and watch the sun set over the Sidra, you'd rehash old memories and stories, ones that you both knew the script to by heart, but that never got old.

Your High Lord had tried to convince you to come home, but didn't push you when you had told him no. Your life had began to feel rather empty without the family antics that consumed your day-to-day life.

"I miss her," you had told him sadly, your head rested on his shoulder as the sun tipped her toes into the water in the distance, the sky grew darker each passing minute.

Rhys hummed, holding you closer to his side, "So do I," he replied with equal sadness, you had all grown up together, you basically were his sister by blood, and when you both had lost her, it only made him clutch to you more, "She'd nail Az's balls to the wall for sure."

A laugh passed through your lips before it died in your throat, you had done your best to not think about Azriel despite him owning your soul, you had done your best to heal from what he had done, but even then, you missed him more than anything, "How is he?"

It was the first time you had asked about him since before you had moved to your new home which was now fully decorated and yours, thanks to Rhys, Feyre and Nesta who made it their priority to help you settle, "He's-" Rhys couldn't lie to you, he was never able to even when you were younger, "-Not great. He misses you, he hates himself for what he said to you that night."

"I'd hate myself too," you had hummed, shifting to stand on the stone ledge where you and Rhys had sat, wanting a better view of the sun as it began to disappear against the horizon.

A familiar cold kiss pecked at your ankles and you looked down to see those shadows you had missed so dearly meandering around where you stood. Cedar entered your lungs and you shivered in painful delight as his warmth curled around your back.

"Y/N," his voice was deep and rough, it was pleading, you looked to your side and found that Rhys had vanished. That damn meddler. "Please look at me."

Not able to say no to that voice, you indulged the Shadowsinger and turned on the balls of your feet to peer upward at him. Azriel had his wings neatly tucked behind his back, his hands dangled at his sides, and his head was hung low. He looked terrible.

"Why are you here?"

Azriel clenched his jaw, he didn't expect you to be happy to see him, but it didn't stop the self hatred from growing in every single cell of his body, "I know how hard today is for you, I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"Well I'm fine, so you can go now," you made a move to walk away, to take the path down the edge of the Sidra to your home which had become your haven away from reality.

Though, you didn't get very far, perhaps two steps before Azriel's fingers curled around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks and pulling you back to him, "Y/N, I don't even know how to apologise in the way that you deserve. I don't know how to say sorry and make you feel like I see and hear you."

"What I did was disgusting, I hate myself for it. I never should have taken advantage of you like that, you've done everything to help me the entire time that I've known you and I ruined everything for someone I don't even want. I've always wanted a mate, you know that, and I got so carried away with wanting it that I completely ignored the only person who's ever truly loved me for me despite all of the horrid things I have done. Elain isn't you, Y/N. No one compares to you. No one makes me feel safe like you do, no one makes me feel alive like you do, and no one can make me hope for death by their void like you do."

"I am yours, Y/N. I always have been. I couldn't be the reason you ever got hurt, I couldn't be the one to risk extinguishing that glorious fire in your soul. You are the only one I cannot bear to lose, the thought of losing you terrifies me, it always has, and instead of protecting you, I took advantage of you and pushed you away because I would rather hurt someone else with everything that I am than hurt you with just a a part of it."

"I'm so stupid for ignoring you, I'm a prick for using you as my security blanket rather than let you in, you know me better than I know myself, you love me more than I could ever imagine, and it terrified me because I couldn't let myself love you. I couldn't let myself taint you."

Azriel lifted his hands, cupping your face in his palms and you could see every inch of despair within him, that conflicted flame dancing within his soul, "I'm not asking you to forgive me, I don't think I will ever be able to forgive myself after what I've done to you. I'm not asking for anything from you. I just need you to know that no matter how severe your storm, I promise I won't leave your side, I'll stay with you through the howling winds that whip my cheeks raw and red. I will stay and hold you when the night leaves you shivering and give you space when when your searing heat pushes you into a fiery rage. I will stay and love you in whatever way you crave, whether that be from next to you or from wherever you cast me to."

"Azriel-" tears flowed freely from his eyes and you knew he meant every word he was saying. Every single word was being plucked from the core of his essence.

"I know that you're scared, and that you don't trust me. I'm scared too. But you're the only one I can face love with because I only want to feel it with you. At the end of the day I want it to be you and me, I want your early mornings and late nights, I want you on your good days and bad. I will never stop wanting you. I will never stop needing you filling my lungs like oxygen and giving me life."

Azriel dropped his forehead onto yours, and you felt your own cheeks dampening from your own tears at his words, "I love you, Y/N. I will always love you, even if you don't want me to, even if you decide to walk away from me I will not stop loving you. I am so thankful for you, and I know I haven't shown that, but if you give me one more chance, I will show you exactly the man you have made me into. I will give you the world you have always dreamed of. My soul is yours until you stop loving me. Please. Please."

"I can't stop loving you, Az. I've tried but I can't and I don't want to," his thumbs wiped your tears away and you found yourself reaching to rest your fingers on the marred flesh around his wrists, "One more chance. Don't fuck it up."

Azriel pressed his lips to your forehead, relishing in your warmth as you bundled into his chest, "You're mine."

"Take me home, Az."

"Yours or mine?"

You grinned against his chest, "How about ours?"

Authors Note

I really hope this does the ask justice x

Alternate ending incoming 👀👀

[simandy]

HELLO GUYS! ✨

I have finally finished a special thing! I've updated almost 500 of my files so they would all match! And that's not all 👀 I've also made them organized in CAS! Now they will all show up in alphabetical order, all glued together with my other files. ENJOY!

The drive folder contains every piece of cc I've updated, you can download them all by clicking the small arrow besides the folder name ("Download Hair Updates") and clicking "download", or you can pick and choose;

The file directory is useful if you plan to pick only some of my older files, they will lead you to their files on drive or patreon;

The organized DL page is organized by hairs (age, frame and length), accs and clothing. As well as direct links to CC packs (that were also updated!)

DRIVE | FILE DIRECTORY | ORGANIZED DL PAGE

PLEASE CONSIDER DONATING ON KO-FI OR BECOMING A PATRON. I’m trying to pay for my new ADHD meds, antidepressants and therapy, also college. Please, consider sharing too, if you can’t pay. Thank you for the support :)

[loganhowlettsmybf]

hated desire

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

warnings: almost smut, swearing, fighting, knives, mention of blood

summary: you hate logan howlett. especially when you can see his, sweaty and naked muscular upper body while you two are training.

word count: 500+

a/n: aghh i’m literally shaking, i hope you like it🫶🏻 also everyone here is so sweet and supportive😭 so thank y’all for encouraging me

[english isn’t my first language, so sorry if there’s any mistakes but i still hope it’s enjoyable<333]

(also my requests are open, so feel free to ask one-shots that comes to your mind or just message me anything🫶🏻)

you hated him.

you hated his arrogant attitude, his ego. just because he has a body of a god and he knew it, that doesn’t mean he has to be an ass.

but the thing you hate the most about him is how wet he makes you, when you two are training together and he doesn’t wear a shirt so you can see all his detailed muscles.

like in the exact. same. moment.

you snapped back into the reality, daydreaming is for later, right now you have to kick his ass.

“ready to lose again, howlett?” you taunted, flipping a knife effortlessly between your fingers.

logan snorted, a smirk curling his lips. “you wish, sweetheart. let’s see if you can keep up.”

you lunged at him with a swift, well-practiced strike, but logan blocked it with his claws.

"you fight like a little girl," logan smirked, feinting a strike.

"it is so much better than fighting like an old man," you shot back, while one of your knife is grazing his side, a little blood dropping out of him. but that was just for a moment, he healed immediately.

oh how much you hated his healing ability too.

“fuck,” logan grunted, more annoyed, than hurt. He spun, catching your wrist and twisting it just enough to make you drop the knives. the closeness of your bodies sent a shiver down your spine. you could feel his breath on your neck, his muscular frame pressing against you.

“is that all you got?” logan growled, his voice low and husky. he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “i thought you were tougher than this.”

in a swift motion, you freed yourself, your knives flashing as you launched another attack while logan blocked you effortlessly.

you pushed back, using your agility to twist away, but not before grazing his side with your blade.

“did I just cut you? again? ohh, you're getting sloppy,” you say while trying to steady your racing heart.

logan’s eyes darkened. he advanced with a ferocity that matched your own. in a swift, fluid motion, logan disarmed you, pinning you against the wall with his claws dangerously close to your throat, your faces inches apart.

"you think you can keep me against the wall?" you breathed.

logan's lips curling into a dangerous smile. "i think you like it when i do," he murmured, his face so close you could feel his breath. “you think i don’t know how wet you’re everytime you see me. just like right now. and how this position with my claws, against your throat turns you on,” he whispered in your ear.

you started to panic. you didn’t know what his next action will be. the tension between you was growing, and before you could even say something he was kissing you, hard and demanding. at first you were surprised, but you responded with equal fervor, you hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed you even harder against the wall.

your kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate. logan’s claws retracted, and he lifted you easily, your legs wrapping around his waist. you felt yourself melting against him. your hatred mixed with an undeniable hunger.

just as things were about to get out of control, logan pulled back, his breathing was heavy.

"this ain't the place," he growled, though his eyes were filled with the same desire that burned in you. he brushed his thumb across your swollen lips. “but don’t think even just for a minute, that this is over.”

[therealmylesmorales]

Loser!Vi who trips and stumbles when she sees half naked reader (like on a beach in a swimming suit or after shower wrapped in a towel) <3 I just know she’d be a mess

This took too long to write I’m sorry

WC: 500

You and Vi hadn’t been together for long, only a few months. Yet, it was the best months of her life. She felt secure, and loved. Granted it was probably too early to say that but she didn’t care.

She felt as if you were the one.

Vi was currently heading up to your apartment to pick you up for a date. You had texted her to come inside and just wait but you were nowhere to be seen. So she decided to explore what she could, looking at your framed photos or picking up a few knickknacks you had; she was just learning more about you.

The next door she opened happened to have a surprise on the other side. You had a bra on but you were otherwise shirtless. While you were a little confused at the sudden intrusion, you weren’t alarmed.

Vi was heavy footed, you heard her coming down the hall.

”Oh, shit!” Vi said, immediately covering her eyes. It hadn’t been for long, less than five seconds. But in those seconds, she had the perfect view of your cleavage and that image was burned into her mind. “Shit—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, honest! I was looking for the bathroom,” she lied.

”…other side of the hall, Vi.”

Vi could feel her cheeks becoming warm at the sound of your voice. “Right, yeah.” She reached for the door, only for her to accidentally slam it on her foot when she attempted to close it. “Ow—fuck, sorry.”

When you were finally alone, you couldn’t help but laugh at her. “Dork.”

Or alternatively, if you were the one that got flashed by Vi:

You decided to facetime Vi. You knew she got out of the gym only thirty minutes ago and figured she would’ve picked up an appetite after her workout.

The phone only rang for a few seconds before Vi picked up, a large smile on her face. Her hair was wet, a sign that she just got out of the shower, and a pair of sweats hung low on her waist showing the band of her boxers. Your eyes were glued on something else.

Her bare chest and pert nipples, standing at full attention. It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen her tits but you have always acted like it was the first. It didn’t help that you could see the dark ink of her tattoo every time she moved.

Damn.

”Hey, babe,” she called after leaning her phone on the counter to fix her hair. “What’s up?”

You couldn’t answer. You now had a full view of her entire torso; the way her arms flexed with every movement and her stomach…fuck, stay focused.

”Uh, baby?”

Vi’s voice finally broke you out of the trance she unknowingly placed you in. She was now closer to the phone, looking over your face. “You okay?”

You couldn’t help but huff at her. “Cover them up, slut, so we can grab some food.”

”What the—“

[sturnsdarling]

beast boy and raven

smartand'mean'!reader convinces fratboy!matt to dress up with her for halloween

vibe check: fluffy good vibes all round

500 words

A/N: i wrote this sooooooo long ago and forgot that it existed. anyways i love them

love and cigs, merc

The party downstairs had already started, music blaring from every corner of the house. Chris and Matt were in their rooms, getting ready for their first Halloween party of the week. By a string of cruel fate, they stepped out their bedroom doors at the same time, locking eyes as Matt took a swig of his pregame drink and Chris placed his canon joint between his lips. The sight of Matt, in a purple shirt and grey cargos with green hair made Chris erupt into laughter.

“What the fuck are you supposed to be kid? Why is your hair green?” Chris couldn’t contain his laughter.

Matt smacked the dangling joint from Chris lips’ and pushed him by the shoulder.

“y/n wanted to be raven and beast boy, y’know the green kid and the witch chick from teen titans?” Matt said, not able to contain his chuckles at the sight of Chris keeled over in hysterics.

“What are you? A divorced dad of three?” Matt questioned, referring to Chis’ blue Hawaiian shirt.

Chris picked his joint up off the floor and shook his head, his laughter still lingering, “nah dude, m’fuckin Romeo” He says, pulling a fake gold gun from his belt and brandishing it in-front of Matts face.

“Romeo in what century? I swear that’s old as fuck” Matt snickers.

S!r/n came out from Chris’ room, wearing a white dress and angel wings with her hair pulled back in a half up half down. “From the 1996 movie, Matt, duh” She says, pointing between her and Chris.

“Wait, hang on, you’re Romeo and Juliet?” Matt questions, folding his arms over his chest with raised brows.

“Its cute right?” Your voice comes from behind Matt as you loop your arm through his, looking up at him, the dark makeup around your eyes accentuating their beautiful colour.

"You guys look go good” s!r/n says at you and Matt.

Matt grins down and you and puckers his lips. You kiss him quickly, trying not to get your black lipstick on his mouth.

“You two make me sick” Chris says, shaking his head and sparking his joint.

He turns to walk down the stairs and holds his hand out behind him, squeezing his fingers together a couples times, gesturing for his girl to take his hand. She complies, and follows him tightly down the winding staircase towards the music.

Matt turns to face you, tracing delicate fingers over the purple velvet cape that’s draped over your shoulders. He scans your figure, taking in how your black, shiny hot pants hug the tops of your fishnet covered thighs.

“You look so sexy, angel” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off your frame “Thanks Matthew” you smile, cheesing at his compliment. “This makeup too” he sucks air into his pursed lips and shakes his head slightly. “You like it?” You say, leaning up into him, pressing your body against his. “Mhm, I like it a lot” He nods, bringing a firm hand to the side of your face, smiling as he pulls you up into a kiss.

His other hand sneaks down of your backside and squeezes the plump flesh of your ass, followed by a slap that makes you squeal into his mouth. His chuckle breaks the kiss, and he continues to kneed at the flesh of your ass.

“Lets go get drunk” He says “Yes!” You grin up at him, “tequila!” You chant, taking his hand and leading him down the staircase towards the party.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour @sofieeeeex @ncm9696 @lovesturni0l0s @pepsicola-pussy @ifwdominicfike @dani-sturn @stupendousjellyfishpost @aesthetixhoe @sturn-rose @mattsnronebitch @chriscorqutte @elizasturn @ribread03 @st7rnioioss @maggieflms

[navybrat817]

can we just take a moment to ✨appreciate✨ this? because I know where I’m looking… what about you? 😏

I'm INNOCENT, Lana. And you send me this?!

Wicked Tongue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky has a wicked tongue. Word Count: Over 500 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), reader is thirsty, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a menace, okay?). A/N: I swear, I'm innocent! But something short and sweet for a Sinful Saturday. ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You tapped a finger against the drink you were holding, refusing to take a sip as you watched Bucky laugh at something Steve said. The love of your life was trying to kill you. Not literally, but it certainly felt the way. Why else would he pick a suit that molded to his beefy frame like a glove? What reason did he have to pull his silky long hair back like that?

He already had to fix it once since he decided to shove your dress up and sink to his knees before you left for the party.

“That’s it, baby. Pull my hair. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my tongue.”

As much as you loved Bucky eating you out, he loved it even more. You were certain there wasn’t another man on the planet who enjoyed the taste of pussy as much as he did. You ignored the twinge of jealousy because it wasn’t just any pussy he wanted. It was yours and yours alone.

Hell, if someone told him the sun rose in the east and set in the west, he’d argue that it went up when your legs opened and went down when they closed. Because the entrance to heaven existed between your thighs and it was only fair that he worshiped it with his mouth. You blessed him when you came on his tongue and he lapped up your offering with a groan every single time.

It felt almost as good as when you fell apart on his cock.

“Fuck,” you whispered when he swiped his tongue along his lip again.

Each time his tongue darted out of his mouth was like a personal attack, a jab to your core. You could still feel the indents from his fingers when he gripped your ass, shoving his face as close as he could so he could lick his way into your dripping cunt. The iron-clad grip nearly kept you from rocking your hips down, but it couldn’t stop the hot slick that rushed out of you when you came.

“Make a mess all over my face. Wanna taste you later.”

As if he sensed your stare, his sapphire eyes glanced your way from across the room and you forgot how to breathe. The beautiful bastard stared right at you as he dragged his tongue over his lower lip, slowly, deliberately. The way he sometimes did with your clit. You didn’t have super soldier strength, but you nearly shattered the glass in your hand from how hard you squeezed it when he winked.

And your panties were wet before, but now they were soaked.

You nodded toward the hall since you couldn’t find your voice. Bucky would help you find it. He’d make sure you moaned his name. Maybe even loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Excuse me, punk,” Bucky said to his best friend before he set his drink down. “In the mood for something a little sweeter.”

Something only you could satisfy his wicked tongue with.

We deserve this, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[naffeclipse]

naff plz, I'm weak and and I hunger 👀

Turns out I am too. This was supposed to only be 500 words. Now we're here smh

Minnow

Reader x Shark!Eclipse

Content Warning for suggestive themes.

———

You have a problem on your hands.

Sitting on the edge of a sea-salt slick rock in your dark wetsuit, the ocean breeze sweeping your hair into tangles, you stare. A whale carcass sits heavy and rotting. The edges of the waves roll up on the flat, tan sand of your seaside home and tug at the giant, dead beast, but one fin is only loosened slightly before the water returns without its passenger. The scent of a festering body hangs in the air and coats the back of your throat.

A sharp fin cuts through the wave farther from shore. You glance at it, but whatever fish swims near dives below, out of sight.

You turn back to the very big problem. It will ruin the beach for the tourists. You’re a council member only in name—more of a glorified intern, despite your best efforts to not only fetch coffee. Whenever there’s a job that doesn’t involve sitting inside around a table, away from the heat and humidity of a summery, oceanic day, it’s pushed into your lap to fix.

You have no idea how to remove a 40-ton whale from the sands.

Your right leg slips off of the rock and your foot splashes into the sea. Before you can fix your stance, tug your knees up to balance on the rock while the tide splashes at the base of your little watery perch, a clawed hand seizes your ankle.

A sharp gasp rips from you. Ripped downwards, you brace yourself, screwing your eyes shut as the ocean water rushes up your body, but something plants itself on either side of you. Pinned to the rock, you shiver at the fresh touch of the sea lapping at your ribs. Your feet barely find the purchase of sand. A shadow falls over your eyelids, and a soft hum spins through the breeze.

“Hello,” a voice growls deep, rumbling through the air and brushing against it. “Might I ask why you’re frowning so much?”

You slowly pry open one eye, then the other before your jaw loosens in wonder and fear. 

A creature looms above you. His head is wide and flat, colored a dark gray. Strange cartilaginous fins frame his head in a crown of sharp, red, and black spikes. The moment you gawk, he flashes a dangerous row of curved teeth with serrated edges. The very breath catches in your throat while his arms, sleek and barred with burnt red stripes, hold you against the sleek rock. 

Your eyes fall down his body. His lithe frame melts from a very human torso into the body of a predatory fishtail—a shark. His underside is pale gray while his back is dark, bearing a wicked dorsal fin with the same barred patterns down his sides in burnt red. Just below the surface, you catch a swishing of a caudal fin. Long and pointed, it cuts through the ocean as if it were mere seafoam.

“What—who are you?” you sputter. Your hands hold defensively to your chest while you return to his unearthly but memorizing face. His eyes burn low in a sharp orange light. 

“I am Eclipse.” He lifts one hand from the rock. A dark talon tips his long, thin finger before he hooks your chin, tilting your head up. The sharp edge teases your skin with how easily it can slice you. You swallow apprehension. His eyes fall to your throat, his teeth flashing in the sunlight. “And I asked you a question.”

Your pulse picks up in your ears, beating double time against the tide. What did he ask you? The echo of his words returns. You slowly form an ‘O’ with your lips.

“I’m not, um, frowning?” Certainly not now, if the terror you hide behind says anything. You curl your fingers into tight balls. “Were you watching me?”

The strange man-fish chuckles a low sound—as if you’re very silly. “I was. You’re quite a lovely sight, perched on this rock like a seabird. But you seemed troubled. You still do.”

He slowly forces your head to tilt this way and that, moving you under the sunlight while he examines you with his piercing gaze. You let him, utterly, horribly confused about how this all came to be. Does he intend to devour you like a tiger shark? Or is it a very strange ‘hello’?

A hum of satisfaction arises, but he is no less intrigued by what he’s captured in his hand. You try to turn away but he holds firm and clicks his tongue.

“There is still something vexing you” he concludes, “Tell me, so I might make it right.”

You almost level a look at him, as if the very interesting occurrence of a fish-man grabbing you and pulling you into the water isn’t vexing enough, but mind your manners. His claws press along your mouthbone. Your heart beats heavy in your chest, against the splashing waters, but your eyes flick towards the beach. Eclipse follows your gaze with narrowed eyes.

“Dead whale,” you say, hoping he doesn’t decide to cut your face with his claws, “I need it off the beach, but, um, I’m not sure how to do that.”

“Oh,” he laughs, and you stop to soak in the echo of his shoulder, melodic and growling. “Is that all? A simple solution, minnow, but I do ask for a small token in return for my help.”

You stiffen. A skip in your chest sends a coldness into your legs and fingertips. You look down, staring at the thin corded strength of his chest, the lissom power of his tail, and how easily he could drag you out to sea should you not give an answer he wants to hear.

How could a herculean task be so easy in his eyes? You almost don’t believe him.

“Minnow,” he rumbles softly and forces your head up higher to capture your gaze. You shiver in the brine. “It’s nothing to be afraid of. I will help you, and you will give me what I desire.”

Desire can be very, very dangerous.

“I’m not giving you people’s souls or whatever,” you say firmly, even if your eyes grow wet with terror. 

Eclipse swipes a thumb along your cheek, wetting it with sea salt and foam. His grin stretches wide until you see into his massive jaws.

“What use would I have of souls?” His tongue swipes over his row of serrated teeth. “No, I want something much more tangible.”

He squeezes your mouth softly until your lips are pushed into a pout, and realization jolts straight into your stomach. A dreaded blood rush fills your cheeks. You burn. Eclipse tilts his head, his eyes widening, flashing with the hunger of a shark in the depths.

“What do you want?” you whisper, your eyelids trembling as you nearly squeeze them shut again.

He leans in closer. You smell the sharp tang of iron and salt upon his breath.

“Seven kisses.”

Your eyes fly open, relieved and mortified. Unfurling your fingers, you try to shake your head but your jaw remains caught in the vice of his grips.

“Seven?” You sputter before spewing, “That’s—that’s a lot!”

“It’s a perfectly natural amount for the task I will undertake for you.” He draws the pad of his finger down the line of your jaw. A shiver overtakes your shoulders as you close your eyes for a heartbeat.

“And if I say no?” you ask quietly, watching him in the way you fear a minnow might watch a shark. 

He leans back. The corners of his mouth pull down.

“Then we shall both be disappointed, and I will leave.”

Your mind whirls at the thought—an easy ‘no’, but you don’t know if you trust him. Why would he do such a task? Why kisses of all things? Will he turn you into a fish after the seventh one? Will he devour you when you get too close? 

“How do I know you’re not going to eat me or down me or something?” you ask, pushing past the rattle in your throat.

Eclipse chuckles but there’s much less mirth in the echo, and your gut twists within you.

“If I wanted to take a bite out of you, I would have forgone the introductions.” His smile spreads wide. 

A cold, unflinching intuition within you agrees.

“Got it,” you murmur. “Just, uh, no biting, okay?”

He looms over you. His claws take you by the shoulders and hold you tighter to the rock. Your lungs freeze. Your rapid pulse fills your head in the same way you hear ocean waves when you hold a seashell up to your ear. 

“Minnow, do you accept my price?” Eclipse’s thumbs rub circles into your wetsuit.

He did not agree to your no-biting rule. Still, you swallow roughly and try to find some sensibility in agreeing to give a fish man kisses. The dead whale will be gone if Eclipse is true to his word. And it’s only a kiss—seven of them.

You press your lips together and close your eyes.

“I do,” you say. You open them again. “How do you want to do this? All at once or—”

A sharp flick of a tail pushes Eclipse against you. A bleeding blush takes over your face, pinned between him and the rock as he gathers your face in his hands. He holds your gaze, orange eyes blazing like a sunset. Your chest heaves. Water laps up against you as his pinky finger brushes against your throat. 

“Slowly,” he answers, voice lowering into a husky growl, “One by one.”

Your insides bubble at the sight of his teeth. A tumble of your heart knocks into your ribs. He lowers himself closer until you close your eyes. The ocean tugs at both of you but he keeps you firmly in place. His lips touch yours. A taste of something sharp and brackish spills into your mouth and you make a soft sound in the back of your throat. He purrs. The vibration touches you before he gently pushes and pulls against your lips like the tide. He gives and he takes, swallowing your affection. A hungry touch of his tongue swipes the inside of your mouth. You find your hands falling to his shoulders and holding on as if upon a lifesaver, lost out at sea.

Then he unhooks his jaws and frees you. A taste of sea salt remains on your tongue. You gasp softly, realizing how much fresh air you crave after his kiss. Your head falls back against the rock as your lungs heave. He still holds above you, tall and towering, but content.

Eclipse's eyes are half-lidded, gentle in his gaze as his claw gently brushes your bottom lip. His tongue swipes back over his own teeth as if savoring the taste of your flesh.

“Thank you for the kiss,” he rasps. “The whale carcass will be gone come morning light.”

“Okay,” you give, still lost in the salty haze the impression of his mouth left on you, “What about the other kisses?”

“Soon, minnow,” he gives with a sharp grin. “I will call upon you soon.”

He takes you by the hips. You gasp, your hands flying to his arms as he lifts you effortlessly out of the water and sets you back upon the rock. You sit, dripping in your stupor, eyes wide at how easily his palms fit over your waist. He rests his talons on the slick edge. His orange eyes upturn as he smiles one last time.

“Goodbye,” he growls gently. His teeth flash as he slips down, and you catch the full length of his impressive tail and sharp, pointed fins. A sharp flip of his body turns him in an instant, the water bending to his whim, and he slowly swims. The tip of his dorsal carries over the waves until at last, he disappears into the depth.

And you are left sitting with a pink heat in your face and a ghostly tang behind your teeth. His kiss leaves you spellbound.

You have an entirely new problem on your hands.

[strawburry01]

The Scientist

Ford Pines x Fem! Reader

Summary: Bill disrupts a wedding

Word Count: 3k

A/N: I highly recommend reading all previous parts before this for maximum oof-age. I hope you enjoy and I'm sorry I get great satisfaction from writing unhappy things. 500 likes and I'll write their happy ending.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 2.5

It had been a few years since you and Ford moved to Gravity Falls now. You finally moved from your ramshackle cabin into a cozy wooden A-Frame (you insisted on an A-Frame as you always loved the way they looked). Ford and you had worked on building a deep lab in the basement in order to keep it safe from the random storms and power outages, while you kept your growing photography and videography library upstairs. You collected random antiques from stores and sidewalks to add to the house to make it feel a little more lived in. Ford chuckled as he watched you perfectly balance an ornate hourglass you had bought on top of a jammed globe. Satisfied you brushed the dust off your hands and stepped besides Ford to look at your growing mantelpiece.

“I’m thinking about going into interior design if this whole cryptid hunting stuff doesn’t work out,” you grinned. Ford scoffed and put an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

“The whole cryptid hunting stuff is going fine though. I’m just having a bit of a plateau,” he mumbled as he kissed your head. You cleared your throat. “We- we’re having a bit of a plateau,” he quickly corrected himself, his face turning red. 

It was true, the hunting had been stalling a little bit. Ford’s focus had turned from recording these anomalies to trying to track where it was all exactly coming from. It was the real scientist in him needing to know where everything was coming from. On the opposite side was you, who was content to continue trying to get better pictures, better recordings, better visuals of these anomalies. Oftentimes you’d tape or clip pictures into Ford’s journals as you got better so they didn’t just have his scribbles to describe the beasts. You were happy for once in your life, you felt content living with the love of your life in a beautiful, albeit spooky, little town. You were pretty sure Ford felt the same way, if he ever let himself feel accomplished, rather than just continuing to pine over the next question and torturing himself over the solutions.

A few weeks later you woke up groggily checking the alarm. Ford had just slammed the front door and was stumbling back into the house. It was 3:00 am. 

“Hon?” you shouted out as you sat up in your shared bed. You heard him pause and slowly walk to the bedroom door. He stood in the doorway, staring at you for a second too long until shaking his head and snapping back.

“Hey, sorry about that dear, I um-” he said as he slid his shoes and coat off onto the ground, “guess I lost track of time in the cave I was exploring,”. He huffed and thumped into bed besides you as you went back under the covers.

“Are you sure?” you asked, as you carefully took his glasses off his face and set them on the nightstand.

“Mmmm, positive,” he said without hesitation as he traced along your arm with his eyes closed.

“Alright. Sleep well hon,” you said as you kissed his forehead and fell back into your own sleep.

Unfortunately he wasn’t quite the same after that night. He started spending longer hours in the basement. He started staring off into space noticeably more. And strangest of all he was talking to himself more. He was still the same Ford to you though, always snapping out of whatever trance he wrapped himself up into, and he was always endlessly grateful whenever you’d bring coffee or lunch down to him. He seemed revitalized in a sense though, so you didn’t want to discourage his new quirks. You finally did crack and force him to tell you what was happening when you caught him calling Fiddleford McGuckett one day.

“Stanford Pines you haven’t talked to that man since we left Backupsmore! What in the hell is going on?” you demanded with crossed arms as he hung up the phone. He opened his mouth and tried to start a sentence a few times. 

“I’m building a portal,” he finally stammered out. You raised an eyebrow. There were a few random metal supports and debris cluttered in the lab basement, but you had no inkling that’s what it was going to be used for.

“What kind…of portal?” you continued, unmoving. Ford awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and looked away again. 

“I’ve been consulting with someone. They said it would explain all the weirdness and strangeness of Gravity Falls,” he said. The room got cold when he said it.

“Who are you consulting Ford,” you asked again, trying not to overthink the way it really did feel like there was another person in the room now. 

“It was a deal. With someone, well, something, named Bill Cipher. He’s helping me with all of this. He’s a being from centuries ago, and that’s all I can really say,” he sighed, looking back at you, realizing how unsure of all of this you were. He stepped forward and held your hands in his. “I promise, it’s all okay dear. I’m being safe. This portal is what will put our names in the history books,” he said with a gentle squeeze. You looked up into his eyes and could see hope and excitement for the first time in a long time. 

“Okay…” you sighed with a small smile. Ford wrapped you into a hug and you laughed at him slightly crushing you. “Okay, okay, okay, just let me know what I can do to help huh?” you laughed with a sigh as Ford began rambling off all the next steps. 

Later that night you sat in your dark room, listening to the assorted thumps and sizzles from the basement. You could hear Ford talking to whoever this Bill person was. His high pitched shrieking of a voice was hard to miss. But you knew if you went downstairs there wouldn’t be anyone but Ford. You’d tried to catch Bill before, but to no avail. He always zapped out of existence whenever you would turn the corner. 

“Stupid to be jealous of a fuckin’ triangle,” you mumbled to yourself as you finished a glass of wine. You knew that much. That it was some sort of manic triangle. Ford had shown you that much in his journal. You walked down to your kitchen and left the glass in the sink.

“Ford! I’m going to bed!” you shouted down the stairs into the basement. You heard him scuffle and quickly run up the stairs. Your heart melted as he held your face and kissed you. 

“I’ll be there soon dearest,” he smiled. You smiled back and nodded. You were just overthinking everything. It was all going to be okay.

Fiddleford showed up a few days later and started joining Ford in the basement for long hours. Bill’s voice disappeared which was a nice break, and it was pleasant getting to talk to Fiddleford again after so many years. You would make dinner (or more often pick it up from some restaurant) and force the guys to come up and eat with you at the table. It was like you were all back in university. 

“So how long until there’s a mini Ford running around?” Fiddleford asked one night when you all decided to get into the liquor cabinet. Fiddleford was laying on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling, with you and Ford draped over the couch. Both of you reddened and avoided eye contact, unable to think of what to say.

“Well I’ve always thought I’d want to get married first,” you said, breaking the silence, “so the dress would fit, obviously,” you drunkenly giggled. Ford absentmindedly placed a hand on your knee and laughed as he took another swig of his drink. You two had talked about marriage once. Near the beginning of your relationship. You both had poor representations of marriage at your respective homes, which made you both hesitant of commitment to that scale, but you agreed to play it by ear. 4 years later you were still playing it by ear.

“What’re you WAITING FOR FORD,” Fiddleford drunkenly shouted from the floor, “We don’t have all day!” he declared before passing out in snores on the floor. You laughed and laid your head on Ford’s shoulder.

“He hasn’t changed much,” you giggled. 

“His tolerance hasn’t gotten much better either,” Ford remarked. You two both sat in silence listening to the hum of the generators. “Are you good dear?” he asked, obviously referencing Fiddleford’s outbursts.

“Yes love,” you sighed, as you closed your eyes.

It was another average drizzly pacific northwest day when shit hit the fan. You were sitting on the porch taking pictures of a deer nearby eating from a brush when the ground underneath you shook. You were used to random earthly shakings but Fiddleford quickly stormed out shortly after. 

“Fiddleford what’s-” you tried to ask as you stood up to follow after him. 

“Do NOT trust him!” he shouted as he threw open his car door, “That portal is nothing but pure evil Y/N. Get out of here while you still can,” he said with a furrowed brow before peeling away in his car. You stood in stunned silence as Ford threw the door open a few seconds later. He let out a defeated sigh as he saw Fiddleford driving away.

“What the hell did you do?!” you asked under your breath, not looking over.

“I-I don’t know,” Ford said, “he got sucked into the portal…and saw something,”.

“You’d tell me if we were in danger, right Ford?” you asked, as you finally looked over at him. He nodded silently. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he stated, “I’m not working with Bill anymore. It’s not worth it,” he sighed as he sat on the porch and held his head in his hands. “I got blinded by the potential for fame. It’s not worth losing my friends and love over,” he said softly. You sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. He wrapped his arms around your waist and the two of you sat still as the rain pattered around you. You never told him but you could feel him crying, just a little. 

Ford quickly began installing precautions to keep Bill out. He insisted on installing a plethora of metal plates around the house. He kept trying to convince you to get a metal plate installed in your head but you were able to convince him you weren’t in danger. You’d never seen Bill before. The rain turned into spring and flowers began to blossom around the yard. 

One day you were out picking them to make a bouquet for the dining table with Ford watching you on the porch. He was back to where he had been before meeting Bill, but he seemed more content. Outwardly at least. He read more, and criticized himself less. He was taking a break from reading when he saw you standing in the field picking flowers and kneeling by every animal you saw to say hello to it. At that moment he realized.

“Can we get married?” he asked, when you came back to the porch. You nearly fell backwards before jumping into Ford’s lap, knocking off his book, and smothering him in kisses.

“Of course we can Ford,” you said through your kisses.

It was a short turnaround. The next week Ford had found his suit and you had gotten a wedding dress from town. It was long and flowing and got Ford’s approval for having renaissance-esque sleeves and details, which made you roll your eyes a little. You two didn’t know anyone else in town well enough to invite them to a ceremony, and neither of you wanted to invite family. Ford felt guilty about having nobody so he invited the colony of gnomes in exchange for hors d’oeuvres. So that’s what was determined. You were able to scrounge up enough random chairs to have a few spots for them to sit with you and Ford facing each other in front. You had done your makeup and hair, which was the first time Ford had ever really seen you try to do something with your hair which left him slack jawed. All of the gnomes also oohed and awed when you stepped out. You smiled when you faced Ford. The two of you agreed to exchange vows and then you’d sign the marriage certificate and turn it in the next day at the courthouse. 

You bit your lip and opened your mouth to start when the ground shook and the string lights you had hung up went out. The power inside the house went out entirely. 

“Peculiar,” Ford said under his breath. 

“Just a moment folks, we’ll be right back after a few messages,” you said, trying to keep the crowd happy, “take a snack break,” you said, gesturing to the table of random snacks you’d gotten for them all. 

“I can turn the breaker back on downstairs,” Ford said as he stepped into the house.

“Here I think I have the flashlight,” you said as you thumped the flashlight you kept in the utensil drawer. It flickered to life. Ford took a second and nodded. The two of you made your way downstairs to the lab basement, Ford supplying a six-fingered hand to hold to make sure you didn’t trip. 

Once downstairs it was obvious that something was wrong. The portal was still up and whirring. A haze of blue swirls in its center.

“Ford I thought you turned this off,” you said.

“I couldn’t just- turn it off,” he mumbled under his breath rubbing the back of his neck, “it’s been months of work. I figured leaving it running and able to be returned to would be…fine,” he said sheepishly. You chewed the inside of your cheek, looking at it. He had a point, but it was also a memento to losing his dearest friend. Research be damned.

“Ford, I need to know you’re looking to the future and not staying in the past if we get married,” you said, feeling guilty about the ultimatum, but knowing it was the only way. He pushed up his glasses and nodded.

“You’re right,” he said, “besides, there’ll be something better than this piece of junk,”. He pushed the button on a platform and the portal quickly fizzled and closed in on itself, leaving the room engulfed in darkness for a second before the lights flickered back on overhead. 

“Hey look at that,” you remarked, looking up, “bet our electricity bill is about to get a lot lower mister,” you smirked as you tapped Ford’s chest.

“Stanford, you didn’t tell me she had a sense of humor!” a sickeningly familiar voice said. Ford quickly pushed you behind him as you both turned to see the floating triangle form of Bill Cipher in the air. It was your first time seeing the thing that had taken up so much of Ford’s time.

“Bill, why are you here? The deal’s off,” Ford shouted.

“I can’t believe I didn’t get an invite to the wedding! Keeping it intimate with just friends and family I see,” Bill continued on his own as his eye contorted into a video of the gnomes outside waiting.

“Answer the question Bill,” Ford demanded. You hadn’t seen him ever get this serious. 

“Well Fordsy you broke our deal, but don’t worry, there’s a way to get it back on track!” Bill’s voice pinged through the basement, “Y’see, you take something I love-” he said, blinking into the now empty space of the portal. You gripped Ford’s forearm.

“Ford I’m scared-” you said softly.

“I think it’s only fair if I take something you love,” Bill chirped, appearing in front of you two again.

“Don’t you dare Bill,” Ford shouted as he held your hand. 

“Not convincing! Boop!” Bill’s voice pinged and with that, you were gone. 

One moment you were on Earth, in your universe, and the next thing you knew you were falling through space and time, seeing eons of other planets pass by as you floated through free fall. 

After what felt like decades of falling through nothingness, but also everything, you slammed into the dirt of an apocalyptic planet. You grunted as you lifted yourself up, seeing the smoky, forgotten landscape stretch out in front of you. 

Fuck.

Back in the basement, millions of universes and timelines away, Ford screamed at Bill. 

“What did you do to her?!”.

“I evened the deal, Stanford calm down!” Bill responded, rolling his single eye, “besides she was getting in the way of your work, you should be thanking me,”. 

After that, Ford’s world changed. He installed a metal plate in his head to keep Bill out for good and got serious about trying to hide how to reinstall the portal. He hid his journals throughout the town and decided to call his brother to properly take care of the last one. Take it so far that nobody would ever find it. He’d get you back on his own. He’d figure it out. He just couldn’t let Bill ever get the satisfaction of the portal. 

There was a knock on the door and Ford kicked it open, crossbow aimed. It was his brother. He breathed out a sigh of relief and dragged him in.

“Damn what happened to this place? What happened to your woman Ford?” Stan asked, looking around the now cluttered house.

“He took my wife, and I need to make sure he doesn’t take anything else from anyone else,” Ford muttered, “listen there isn’t much time and I’ve made a huge mistake. I don’t know who I can trust anymore,”.

“Hey easy there let’s talk this through okay?” Stan said as he looked around the house, slowly realizing his brother may be crazy.

“I have something to show you. Something you won’t believe,” Ford sighed as he turned to face his brother.

“Look, I’ve been around the world okay? Whatever you’re going to show me I’ll understand,” Stan shrugged.

It was safe to say Stan did not understand. And Stan did not understand when Ford shoved the journal into his chest demanding his brother to take it to the ends of the earth to hide. 

It was safe to say that you and Ford were both tumbling through endless dimensions together, but also so far apart.