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bucketslutz · 3 months ago

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Don't Be Late, Chapter 6

(Professor!Logan Howlett x F!Student!Mutant!Reader)

Click here for chapter index.

Chapter Summary: The aftermath.

A/N: Hiiiii, im backkkkk!! sorry for the unintentional hiatus, this chapter took me ages to write. But i honestly feel really good about it! after i posted the last chapter, i was worried that i might've rushed the slow burn slightly, but i hope that this chapter puts things on the right path. enjoy!!!

Warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, fingering, making out, grinding slightly, nightmares

Word Count: 6,844

Chapter 6

Eyes slowly blinking open, you register the faint sound of talking echoing throughout your house. You adjust to your surroundings, naked in your bed, claw marks in your mattress; the events of the night before come rushing back into your mind. Logan. The rain. Your powers—his powers. Oh god, what did you do? The bed’s cold. He must’ve already gone downstairs, his voice being the one you recognize carrying through the halls of your home. Is he embarrassed? Does he regret it? You can’t stew with these ideations all morning. Sitting up, you throw your feet off the side of the bed, slipping a robe on before descending down your stairs. You overhear the tail end of Logan’s conversation with someone you assume he’s talking on the phone with.

“I’m working on it—I gotta go,” he says quickly into the phone. You come upon his bare back as he stands in your kitchen, clad in nothing but his jeans from the night before. He turns around to face you, stuffing his phone in his pocket and offering you a tight-lipped smile. There’s an air of awkwardness hanging between you two, neither one sure of who should say something first. Should you go hug him? Give him a kiss good morning? Should you talk about it?

“Still dunno what you did with my underwear,” he remarks dryly, breaking the silence. An awkward chuckle escapes your throat. You could still cut through the tension with a butter knife. An idea crosses your mind, an attempt to relieve the pressure that’s built in the room.

“I-uh, wait just a second,” you hold up a finger, crossing to your fridge. You had honestly forgotten that you kinda disintegrated his boxers last night. Typically, you don’t find yourself in this kind of situation—having to find a way to reconstruct an object for someone after taking it apart. You fish through your fridge for one of your protein shakes, exhaling a satisfied hum once you set your sights on the chocolate drink. Holding up a finger to Logan yet again, you chug the shake swiftly while he looks at you incredulously.

“The hell are you—“ he starts, but he’s cut off when you manifest his boxers back on his body, Logan lowering the waistband of his pants to confirm that you did, in fact, do that.

“Sorry, powers use up a lot of calories,” you huff, panting from the drink you just downed in a few seconds.

“Oh.”

There’s more tension in the air. You wipe the chocolate off of your upper lip, wondering what he could possibly be thinking. He was so passionate last night, you would’ve never thought that he would say anything the way he did—never thought for even a second that he even felt that way about you. It was almost overwhelming, the rush of all of those feelings, the rain, the revelation of both his and your powers. Did you rush into this?

“Logan, I—“

“Look—“

You overlap with each other, letting the silence overcome you both again.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” you ask Logan, trying to hide away in an attempt to preserve your feelings.

“No, you can go,” Logan retreats as he crosses his arms over his bare chest. You smile nervously, unsure of how to word what you’re feeling.

“Um, well,” you start, “What I was going to say is: I think I need a little bit of space. I just—a lot happened. I don’t know if I was thinking properly. I just don’t know if we got caught up in the moment or—“ you shake your head, shutting your eyes tightly as you try to word this carefully. “Logan, what we did—what we’re doing, it’s serious. I don’t know if I’m ready for something like this, or if we should even be doing this.”

You can’t help the lump that forms in your throat, unsure if it’s from anxiety or from how painful it is to admit that to him. You just want your degree. This…thing you have with him could threaten that. He’s stoic, taking you in carefully. You start to speak again, wanting to clarify your words, but he finally talks.

“I was gonna say the same thing,” he replies simply, clearly not wanting to show any sign of emotion. That honestly makes you more nervous. Did you upset him? Is he disappointed?

“Logan—“

“I’ll, uh, get my things and head out,” he walks past you and starts towards the stairs, hesitating before ascending, “And don’t worry, we can just pretend like this never happened.”

You try to go after him, to clarify. It hurts you that he thinks you want to forget it. As much as a part of you would like to, you don’t think you can. But he’s already halfway up the stairs. You huff as you lean back against your kitchen counter, thoughts racing with a mixture of regret and excitement. How are the two of you supposed to just forget about this? Is forgetting this whole ordeal for the better? Logan’s rapid descent down the stairs pulls you from your thoughts, he slips his boots on as you cross over to him.

“Logan, I don’t think we can just forget this.”

“Not a matter of can or can’t, we have to,” he replies, rather curtly, picking up his leather jacket that was discarded on the floor during last night’s escapade.

“Can we at least talk about it?” you level, but he’s set on how he feels, it seems. This was a mistake.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You said it yourself, we got caught up in the moment. Sorry for comin’ here, won’t happen again.” And with that he breezes past you and out the door, not saying a word to you when he hops in his truck and drives away. You thought getting drinks with him was bad, but this might just be your worst nightmare.

…

You toss and turn in your bed, struggling to find comfort in your sheets with your mind racing the way that it is. What a braindead decision. Why did you do that? Why didn’t you consider the implications of him knowing everything about you? How are you supposed to look him in the eye on Monday? Groaning in frustration, you dig the heels of your palm in your eyes, trying to will the thoughts of regret away. There’s nothing you can do now. Your feelings for each other are out in the open. You can’t hide behind faux timidity, Logan will see right through it. All you can do is face the reality of the situation: you just fucked your history professor, who is a mutant like you, and dreams the same vivid sex fantasies you do. It’s bizarre to think of it that way, almost feels fake.

Eyes feel heavy, but you don’t dare shut them. You fear going to sleep now, worried that another dream might happen and the two of you will have to see each other after knowing what happened in your subconscious. Would your consciousness meet you there this time? Would you just be a puppet to whatever the dream wills to happen, or will you see him with lucidity? You don’t know. But you can’t fight sleep much longer.

Bright white light blinds you, its fluorescence humming from above. You’re barely conscious, weak, skin cold from the icy metal you lay upon. You don’t know where you are. You can barely move with the restraints at your wrists, ankles, waist, head. But even if you could get up, you feel faint. Like your body has been sucked of every nutrient save for the bare minimum you need to be alive. Men in surgical gear hover above you, goggle-shrouded eyes looming at you hungrily. You would panic but your body doesn’t have the energy to. Equipment comes to view in your peripheral—needles and tubes with strange liquids. Beeping and muffled talk of dissections and extractions is all you can hear, barely able to tell what they’re really saying.

“She might not survive the procedure, she’s barely hanging on as is,” one of them says, their tone hushed but stressed.

“He gave orders. Prep the IV,” another voice commands. Immediately following his direction, the sharp stab of a needle hits your skin. Then another. And another. Blood flowing out of you, liquids pumping into you, consciousness fading as the beeping grows louder and more incessant. You try to stay awake—fighting with all your might, but you can’t. The beeping has crescendoed with the accompaniment of flashing lights. You’re sure this is your mind’s way of coping with the loss of reality as you slowly slip away. Voices yell around you, crashing bodies, and the flying of blood splatter covers the ceiling you’ve been staring at. The room glows white and you’re sure this is it. But something blocks the light—a figure hovers above you. Ripping the needles from your arms and freeing you from the restraints, a voice soothes you. It reverberates around your skull, echoing and not registering as any kind of real dialogue. Then, arms cradle you and lift you up off of the table and suddenly you recognize the source of the voice.

“You’re gonna be okay, baby, I got you,” Logan reassures, the gravel in his voice bringing you back down to earth. Eyes blink up at him as he pulls you against his chest, carrying you away from the fluorescent room. There’s another voice—one you don’t recognize.

“Logan, we must get her medical attention. She’s dying,” the man says.

“We’re almost there, baby, just hang on,” Logan comforts you, trying his best not to jostle you as he practically runs through a white blur of a hallway. The scenery around you darkens, an engine hums in the distance. Nothing is legible to you through your delirium. The humming grows louder and louder until you’re carried up a ramp and placed gently onto the hard surface of a table. A hiss, some beeps and the room shakes. You can’t make sense of anything, your surroundings looking like a blur of grey and faint flashing lights.

“Hank, do something, damnit!” Logan shouts, gripping your hand tightly. You wish you could squeeze him back, but your body is too weak to do much of anything—sleep seeming like something that would feel so, so good right now.

“Her body has been deprived of the necessary nutrients her powers need in order to regenerate her strength, I can give her this to see if it will sustain her until—“

“Give her the damn shot!”

The light prick on your skin barely registers as you try your hardest to look at Logan’s face, but he’s so faint, nothing looks clear.

“Logan,” you rasp.

“You’re gonna be okay, baby, just look at me. You got this, just hang on.” He shakes you gently, trying to keep you conscious. But you just want to sleep, it’s all you can think about.

“I’m so tired,” you murmur, your lids heavy, your breathing slowing down. The thumping that used to be so loud in your chest feels lighter and lighter as you succumb to your sleep. Everything around you echoes, unable to register the yells and screams as you allow your body to fall asleep.

A gasp violently wakes you, like you almost fell off of something. Chest heaving, you sit up in bed, taking time to process what just happened. You barely remember this dream, just that Logan was there and you felt so weak and tired and scared. Falling back against your pillow, you try and will yourself back to sleep, already feeling the events of the dream fading away. But a harsh noise startles you awake, your heart rate skyrocketing from the shock. You jump at the sound of banging echoing from your door. Checking the clock, you wonder who would be here at this hour. You go to your bedroom window to peek out at your driveway for any indication of who might be bothering you. It’s dark, but you can make out the silhouette of a car parked in front of your house. Sighing in annoyance at the sight of what you recognize as Logan’s truck, you stomp down your stairs, wondering what the hell he could be doing here at this hour. Swinging the door open, you try to hide your surprise at the way he’s dressed. No shirt, just sweatpants. Like he just rolled out of bed and showed up. He almost looks relieved to see you. He doesn’t give you a second to question him before he speaks.

“Did you just have a dream?” he asks, his tone concerned and stressed, bare chest heaving. You’re too tired for this tonight, you just want him gone.

“What? Logan, go home,” you scoff, trying to shut the door but he stops you, imploring your name.

“Did you…have any dreams?” he repeats, slowing his words down carefully as he wills you to be honest with him. Judging from his disheveled appearance and worried tone, you’re assuming he just had the same dream you did. Did he come here to see if you were okay? To test your connection further and see if the dream meant something to you? You can’t push this relationship further past what it already is. It’s better for you and Logan that you forget about everything and try and move on.

“I didn’t have any dreams, goodnight, Logan,” you reply simply, shutting the door finally and locking it behind you before you head upstairs, going back to bed.

…

You’re not religious, but you’ve been praying—praying that this morning will not be the most awkward morning of your life and it will be just like any other day in Logan’s class, which really isn’t too normal at all. At least, not in comparison to the rest of the courses you’ve been taking, but you hope he doesn’t have any outbursts.

Your classmates, engaged in conversation around you, barely notice Logan walking in. But you do. He’s a few minutes later than usual, hair messy and eyes heavy as he sets his briefcase down. He’s flipping through the textbook, keeping his eyes low so he doesn’t make eye contact with you. A part of you wants him to—wants him to look at you. Does he still think about your night of passion? Does he have to try and stop himself from caving into self-pleasure, shoving every lasting thought of you down the drain? Does he have to fight the urge to stare at your tits or the way your ass looks in your jeans when you turn around to write on the board….

God, what has happened to you? You have sex with someone once and you can hardly control your thoughts. How can he have this effect on you? Clenching your thighs when he enters a room, heart racing at the sight of his biceps peeking out from under the sleeves of his T-shirt. You’re like a fangirl who can’t stop thinking about nothing but him—him, him, him. You might as well flutter your eyelashes and prop your chin on your hand if this is how you’re going to be.

Logan goes on and on about…Shit, what did he just say? C’mon, pay attention damnit. This man will not cause me my degree, you curse your thoughts and try to whip yourself into shape.

Shaking your head of the sexual ideals, you bring your focus to your note taking, attempting to forge a mental image of Logan being extremely unattractive. It works for the remainder of class, or at least until he hands you back your essay with the words My office. After class, scrawled at the top of the page. You glance upwards to meet his gaze, he holds eye contact for a beat before quickly turning away to pack up his things at the front of the room. Class is over, but you don’t dare to get up just yet, frozen in indecisiveness. Why does he want to see you? What reason does he have to see you? Is he just trying to come up with an excuse? The classroom’s empty now, leaving you with a decision: see Logan, or go home.

You honestly don’t really have much of a choice, as your body decides for your brain by carrying you to the door of his office. With hesitation, you knock, silently hoping that he forgot about what he wrote at the top of your essay.

“Come in,” he calls from behind the door, causing you to curse internally. Gingerly, you open the door inch by inch, peeking in briefly before stepping inside and closing the door behind you. He’s sat behind his desk, leaning back leisurely with his legs spread wide. You offer an awkward smile as you wipe your clammy hands on the fabric of your skirt, trying your best to hide your nerves.

“What’s up?” you ask, attempting a casual tone despite your nervousness in being here. Logan adjusts his position in his chair slightly, clearly stewing on something.

“So, your essay—I wanted to talk…well, I wanted to tell you,” he stammers, clearly struggling to form his thoughts. You try your best to listen patiently, but he continues to stumble through each word, “Look, there’s some things—there’s a thing, it’s extracurricular, I guess…”

“You brought me here to talk about a club?” you question, narrowing your eyes at him in slight disbelief.

“No, it’s not a club—well, it sorta is…look, I—“

“Logan,” you start, trying to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. You’re sure he just called you in because he won’t admit that he’s upset you rebuffed him. “I appreciate you thinking of me, but I’m not interested.”

You turn around in an attempt to leave, but Logan crosses to you in no time, spinning you around with a tight grip on your arm. The sudden movement makes you gasp lightly, a familiar twinge of arousal swirling within you at the harsh movement. He takes a deep breath, his mouth gaping like he’s trying to say something but can’t find the words. Something is distracting him, but you can hardly focus too—the way he looms over you and the smell of his tobacco filled musk being almost too much to bear. He stares at you for what feels like forever, a look of mild annoyance on his face which makes your brow furrow.

“What?” you ask incredulously, trying your best to hide how much he’s making your heart skip a beat and your thighs clench.

“Will you stop that,” he practically hisses.

“Stop what?”

“I can—Jesus, I can smell you.” He shakes you gently, pulling you slightly closer to him, like his body wants to kiss you but he’s trying his hardest to stop himself.

“Smell? What are you...” You trail off, your mind racing with possibilities. My perfume? My shampoo? What can he smell? And then it hits you. Can he smell when I’m turned on? Oh, god. You gulp, your throat suddenly extremely dry. How are you supposed to play this off? It’s almost like you’ve been backed into a corner, until your eyes flick downwards between the two of you, catching a glimpse of his own arousal pressed firmly against his jeans. Looking back up to him, you cock an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t seem to bother you,” you retort, narrowing your eyes slightly.

“You don’t exactly make it easy, princess,” he says, shifting his weight in discomfort.

“Make what easy?” you ask, doing your best to appear clueless to what he’s implying.

He inhales sharply before spinning you around so your ass is pinned to the edge of his desk, Logan’s body pressed into yours as he stops you from being able to move out from under him. The tip of his nose grazes against your own as his lips hover in a state of hesitance, contemplating a kiss.

“Logan,” you warn, voice hushed, “We can’t.”

“Why not?” He tries to catch your lips, but you pull back, not letting him make contact.

“Someone could walk in.”

“Could they?” he asks, dragging a hand up your side, letting your shirt hike up under the trail of his hand. Your breath hitches as his fingers graze along your skin, melting into his touch. He dips his face down to your ear, his beard prickling the soft skin of your cheek.

“What are you gonna do about that, princess?” he husks, tempting you with each rake of his words along the gravel of his vocal cords. His mouth glides along the side of your face, touch too ginger to be a kiss, but firm enough to feel each curve of his lips. He told you that you’re not making it easy, but god, it’s taking every ounce of self control in you to not just let him fuck you on the desk behind you.

But why not let him? You’ve already done it once, and who’s to say this won’t be the last time you do it? God, he’s making this so hard. The way his frame is pressed to yours, hands dragging up and down your body, his mouth so close to yours that if you so much as hiccup you’d surely lock lips. Maybe just a little kiss wouldn’t hurt, you think to yourself. With a raise of your hand and a flick of your wrist, the door is fused with the threshold, ensuring that no one can enter and catch you and Logan in the act. Hooking your arms around his neck, you finally pull his face into yours, affirming the connection that your mouths have been craving.

Groans escape Logan’s throat as he lifts you up slightly, setting you down on the desk. You wrap your legs around his torso, trying not to pay attention to the fact that you can feel the outline of his cock through your thin panties. Arching your back into him, your tongue tests the waters by dipping into his mouth gently.

The kiss is not pretty by any means, it’s wet and ravenous and messy, and so so good. It’s like you’re the first meal he’s had in ages; hungry yet savored. Tongues unabashedly become familiar with each other, no care with how far he thrusts it into your mouth and vice versa, just wanting to swallow and feel every last inch of you. Logan’s hands start wandering from your sides, sliding up your torso to grip your breasts possessively. You whimper in his mouth, frenzied in your desire to feel all of him. Hands wander again, settling at your waist to pull you closer to him before slipping under your skirt. A whimper leaves your mouth as he toys with the waistband of your panties, working his hand between your bodies so he can slide them to the side. Gasping into his mouth as he slides a finger through your lips, back arching into him.

You lose your focus on the kiss as he teases you, avoiding your aching core to make sure you’re nice and wet for him. His onslaught of your lips is still consistent, as if toying with your pussy is second nature to him. But he’s seemingly through with the teasing, as he slips one finger inside of you. You mewl into the kiss when he curls a digit, Logan takes that as permission to slip in another finger. You’re putty beneath him, barely able to reciprocate the kiss through whimpers and moans as he continues to pump in and out of you.

The sound of knocking outside causes both you and Logan to scramble. Hastily, pulling apart, straightening clothes, smoothing hair.

“Uh, be with ‘ya in just a minute,” Logan calls.

You hop off of his desk, bending down to collect your things, but Logan stops you with a grip on your arm.

“Logan, there’s someone—“ you whisper, your voice stressed.

“They can wait,” he husks, moving his hand from your arm to your jaw. Gripping your face, he brings his fingers from his free hand to your mouth, beckoning you to suck them clean. You’re not sure why, but you oblige, parting your lips to allow him access as you languidly suck your arousal from his fingers. He stares down at you with desire clearly painted on his face. He wants you, and he is not trying to hide it.

“Good girl,” he drawls with a tone dripping in velvet, causing you to swirl your tongue around each digit enthusiastically, savoring the taste of your own juices. The knocking continues, harmonizing with the voice of a young girl this time.

“Professor, I’m sorry, I just have a few questions about the homework.”

Logan pulls his fingers from your mouth, making you almost whine at the loss of fullness; a bitter taste remaining on your tongue. You clear your throat and grab your bag, smoothing your skirt and hair down as you silently hope you don’t look like you were just aggressively making out with your professor. Logan slips behind his desk, settling into his chair, unabashedly ogling your ass as you approach the door. You flash a flirty smile over your shoulder as you reach for the doorknob, almost falling over when the door doesn’t budge. You give it another good yank before remembering that you fused the door to the frame so no one would catch you and Logan in a compromising position.

You laugh awkwardly, catching Logan’s slightly bemused gaze as you lift your hand and restore the door back to its original state. Swinging it open, you offer a meek smile to the girl waiting patiently outside before quickly scurrying away. You can hear her still from the end of the hall.

“What’s with the door? I had a hard time getting it open,” she says.

“It’s broken.”

…

As you drive home from class, you can’t help but blush as you think back to your impromptu makeout session with Logan. The way he kissed you, touched you, grabbed you…No, you can’t. As much as you’d like to give in to these thoughts and feelings, you can’t allow this thing to become any bigger than it already is. It’s just a fling, a fleeting infatuation. You can’t let him distract you from your aspirations. There’s a whole path before you, laid out clearly. You know where you’re supposed to go. Sure, he may be like you, and he may understand you, but you have already accepted that the world isn’t ready to welcome mutants. If you let yourself have feelings for him, you would threaten the life you’ve worked so hard to maintain in secret. No one knows you, no one notices you, and that’s how you need it to be.

Besides, you like your quiet life. You like the winding drive to and from town. You like breathing the misty mountain air while you drink your morning coffee. You like the quiet that encompasses your little house. And nothing, surely no man, will take that tranquility from you.

Bedroom window cracked, you attempt to lull yourself to sleep with the sounds of the chirping crickets just outside your window. Though your eyes don’t feel quite as heavy as you’d like them to, you keep them shut. Hoping that your body will soon take over and succumb to the sleep you know you need to get.

Your vision around you is cloudy, unclear. There are no defining characteristics to your surroundings, just an expanse of darkness that envelops everything. You catch a light in the distance, the black slowly melting away as you approach it. When the darkness dissipates, the image is clearer. A hospital room. You almost don’t perceive who’s lying upon the bed, as the tubes and devices cover their face—your face— completely. You’re in the hospital? What hospital? This is unlike anything you’ve seen before, the equipment you’re hooked up to is far more advanced than what you know hospitals to have.

A blurry figure sits in a chair beside your bed, you cannot discern who it may be. The image clears further as the figure moves. It’s a man—it’s Logan. He looks…scared? Sad? Concerned? No, he looks distraught. He stares at you longingly, gripping your hand tightly. Another figure enters your line of sight. Unclear, but…blue? And furry? He’s broad, tall, and he wears a white lab coat, a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His face grows more detailed, revealing an animal-like physique to you. The two men begin speaking to each other but you cannot quite understand what they’re saying; their words are muffled and echoey, like they’re underwater. The shroud of indiscernible dialogue slowly dissipates.

“Logan, I’m sorry, we’ve tried everything. Her life…it’s in her hands now,” the blue stranger says, offering a sympathetic hand on Logan’s shoulder.

“It’s not in her hands, damnit, it’s in yours!” he snaps, standing up to drill into him further. “If she dies, it’s on you, Hank…so help me, god, if she—if she dies, you better pray, Hank—you better pray she makes it.”

Hank doesn’t seem phased by his threat. His expression is sad, empathetic.

“I’m sorry, Lo—“

He’s cut off by a droning beep emanating from one of the machines. You’re flatlining. You’re watching yourself flatline.

“No…no, no, no, no,” Logan sputters, rushing to your side. “No, come on baby, don’t do this to me. I’m right here with you, wake up, baby.”

“Logan—“ Hank tries to intervene.

“Goddamnit! Wake up!” he cries now, practically cradling you as he holds you to his chest.

You can’t stand to see him like this, you’re here. You’re right in front of him. In an attempt to comfort him, you try and approach further, but something stops you. You can’t move. Like a magnet that’s faced its match, you’re incapable of making contact.

“I’m here. I’m right here!” you shout. But he doesn’t react. And neither does Hank. There’s nothing you can do. Logan is anguished over your lifeless body and you just have to watch him suffer. The force stops you from approaching him, yet you still try with all your strength. Fighting and straining against the impermeable energy, you scream more as you hope and pray that Logan might hear you. Just when you feel like he may be within reach, something drags you away as if you were a lure they were reeling back in on a fishing line. The strength in which it pulls you away knocks you completely off your feet and you lose all sense of your surroundings.

Falling. A gasp and a drop of your heart brings you back down to earth. That was the weirdest one yet. Despite the strange out of body experience, it felt so real. Like you could almost reach out and touch Logan if you tried hard enough, yet you couldn’t. A sense of dread and anxiety weights heavy on your heart. You don’t think you’ll be able to fall asleep, at least not for a while.

Pushing open the doors of your patio, you shiver as the cold, night air encompasses you. You wrap a blanket around you as you propel yourself to the roof. It’s nights like these where you find yourself extra grateful for the lack of light pollution here. The stars don’t dream, the ones above may already be burnt out, but they still shine even in their possible death.

Your attention is drawn to headlights at the top of your driveway, your eyes adjusting to recognize Logan’s truck pulling in. A part of you wants to be annoyed, but there’s another part of you that is still pretty shaken up from that dream and could use a comforting presence. And judging by his sudden appearance, he must’ve also had the same one. He steps out of his truck, a case of beer in his hand.

“Figured you could use one of these,” Logan calls from below, gesturing with the case of beer.

You exhale a light laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity of this situation. A wave of your hand and you project a set of crystalline, pink stairs for him to climb up. He hesitantly ascends, clearly weary of the sturdiness of the projection. He reaches the top, the steps dissipating behind him. A hand stretches out to you, offering you one of the beers, which you accept with a tight-lipped smile. He sinks down next to you, his beer bottle hissing open before he takes a generous swig. Twisting the cap off, you take a swig yourself, wincing at the bitter path it leaves down your throat. You’re quiet for a while, mostly because you’re unsure of what to say, but also in part because you like the quiet. Your gaze has been fixed on the freckled sky above, avoiding making eye contact with Logan. The impromptu kiss today might’ve left him wanting more, and you hope he didn’t just come here to pick up where you left off. But, then again, he had the same dream you did, where he seemed to be far more distraught than you were.

“You okay?” you ask quietly, turning your head to face him. His jaw tightens slightly before he turns to you and nods. Taking another sip of his beer, he looks lost in thought, leg propped up and arm rested atop his knee.

“Why do you think we keep having these dreams?” he asks lowly, finally turning to face you.

In all honesty, you don’t know. You’ve never experienced anything like this before. As far as you know, your powers don’t affect the subconscious, and while you don’t know much about what Logan can do, you doubt that his metal claws come with the power to manipulate dreams.

“I don’t know,” you offer, feeling a bit defeated by the fact that you have to keep dealing with this every night. You can’t remember the last time you had a full nights sleep that wasn’t interrupted with nightmares or sex dreams.

“Can your powers…you know, even do stuff like that?” he inquires, unsure of himself.

You shake your head, feeling certain that if you were capable of this kind of thing, it would’ve most likely already happened to you, before you ever even met him.

“No, I don’t think so,” you replied, before continuing, “And you? Can you…do stuff like that?”

You take another sip of your beer. Logan chuckles, seemingly amused at the thought.

“I don’t mean to disappoint, but these claws don’t got much to do with mysticism,” he teases, causing you to nod in understanding. “I know I didn’t explain much,” he continues, unsheathing his claws with a sharp ‘snikt,’ “But I wasn’t exactly born like this.”

“What do you mean?” you inquire, confused as to what he’s implying as you stare at the blades that protrude from his knuckles; they glisten in the moonlight.

“This metal…it ain’t just on the claws,” he remarks in a tone that you can only describe as pained as he begins to recount this to you. “Those dreams you—we have….that fear you felt in there, it was a reality for me.”

His jaw tenses as he sheathes his claws. You’re not sure what exactly he’s trying to say—or allude to, as he isn’t saying anything with clarity.

“What fear?” you coax, trying to get him to reveal more to you.

“The tests.” He’s quiet, taking a generous swig of his beer, easily downing a majority of the liquid that was left in the bottle.

“What tests? Who tested on you?” He doesn’t answer you, avoiding eye contact as you try to level with him. “Was it the government? The military?”

He stiffens, his body having a visceral reaction to those words. That realization makes your heart sink. What did he go through? Why did they test on him? What did they do to him? What did he mean when he said the metal wasn’t just on his claws? Your mind races with questions and concerns until you take note of his stiff posture and balled fists, his hand keeping a death grip on his beer bottle. You’ve never seen him look so tense before. This must be painful to recount—to have been treated inhumanely like a lab rat. You cannot imagine what he must be feeling. You place a gentle hand on his balled fist and feel as he relaxes under your touch. He turns his head to you with a softened expression.

“You don’t have to tell me anything else…I’m sorry,” you sympathized, running your thumb along his knuckles.

He shrugs, as if this was a casual retelling. A typical Monday night for Logan Howlett.

“Don’t stress about it, princess,” he husks, dipping his head down to your level. He lingers there for a moment, gaze flicking between your eyes and lips, clearly contemplating a kiss. You should protest, push him away, but his closeness is comforting. It’s warm. He attempts to lock his lips with yours, but you turn away, not allowing contact.

“I…I still think we shouldn’t…,” you murmur, keeping your head low and meekly looking up at him through your eyebrows. He nods in understanding, shifting away from you slightly. Despite your hesitance to kiss him again, you don’t want him to leave. His presence relaxes you, keeps you from spiraling. You move closer to him, gently linking your arm with his before leaning against his shoulder. The suddenness of your contact makes him flinch under you slightly. You feel a twinge of embarrassment when he removes his arm from the link you formed. But the feeling quickly dissipates when he wraps it around you to pull your frame further into his. A gentle kiss is placed on the top of your head, making your breath hitch. This is exactly what you needed tonight.

“Thank you—for coming here,” you mutter, nuzzling your head into his chest in an attempt to get comfortable. He shifts under you, perhaps in an attempt to get a look at your huddled figure.

“It’s nothing. People like us—we take care of each other,” he remarks, adjusting the blanket that’s fallen off your shoulder with the hand that is not wrapped around you. He fumbles with the beer bottle, struggling to get a grip on the blanket with the fingers he doesn’t need to use in order to support the glass.

“You done with that? I can take care of it for you,” you offer, gesturing to his beer bottle. He nods, offering it to you as he’s probably expecting you to just take it away from him. You take him by surprise, though, when you dissipate it with a wave of your hand, a trail of pink particles dissolving into the air. He looks at his hand incredulously, then at you, then back to his hand.

“Alright, I told you my shit, now tell me yours,” he insisted, a bemused but intrigued tone to his voice, causing you to laugh lightly.

“Okay, um, well…I don’t know everything about what I can do, but I do know atomic structures. If I can conceptualize something, I can conceptualize its atomic structure,” you begin, “So, take, for instance, this beer bottle,” you hold up the glass in your hand for emphasis, “When I look at it, I don’t just see the bottle. I see all of its particles and components and the atomic structures that make it up. So, since I’m done with it, I could just throw it away, but I’d honestly rather help the environment a little and convert it…” you trail off as you begin dissipating its particles, “…into energy. In this case, oxygen.”

Logan looks down at you with an amused expression, which makes you nervous. Did you say too much? Is he silently making fun of you?

“Sorry,” you concede sheepishly, suddenly feeling embarrassed about the way you admitted that to him.

“No, don’t be. That’s…Look, I’ve seen a lot in my time, but I’ve never seen anything like that—like you. Don’t be sorry,” he reassures, nudging you slightly with the arm that envelops you. You smile in relief and feel a twinge of pride. He’s right, it is pretty incredible. And it’s nothing to be sorry for.

“Thank you,” you murmur, looking up at him through heavy eyelids. Your exhaustion is beginning to rear its head at you the longer you sit in his arms. Settling against his chest, you pay attention to the steady thump of his heartbeat, the way his thumb runs circles along your upper arm, the warmness of his body on yours.

You’re not sure how soon after closing your eyes you fell asleep, finding yourself tangled in your bedsheets the following morning, Logan’s frame curled into yours.

...

A/N: AHHHHH!! i loved writing this one, i know i say that about every chapter but i mean it this time. no seriously this was fun to write. there's so much to this one and i feel like its jam packed with angst, exposition, a little sprinkle of smut, and a deepening of their connection. i do apologize for the sudden length between updates, i just started a new job and ive also been babysitting during the day so i got randomly busy all of a sudden!! i'm not giving up on this story and i still have SO SO SO MUCH PLANNED REST ASSURED. i love hearing peoples thoughts and theories, and i hope, as i said in the A/N at the top of this chapter, no one felt like the slow burn was too rushed. srsly theres still a LOT that has to happen before these two get together so the slow burn WILL be slow. a couple of people have asked about a chapter from logan's POV, and i will say that there will be maybe a couple more chapters until we get the one from his POV! so it'll happen!!! yay!! as always leave a like or a comment and also feel free to keep up with the story here on my ao3 as well!!

Taglist: @wolviesgirl @sanemis-piss @fictionalmen-dilflover @e-nonsense @bontensbabygirl @sseleniaa

#hugh jackman #logan howlett #x men #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine #logan howlett smut #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #james howlett #james howlett x reader #james logan howlett #logan #logan wolverine #james howlett fanfiction #james howlett smut

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spiderceo · 9 months ago

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− ⌗ vaudeville vows ⊹.∿

summary; in the middle of the night, an unwelcome guest makes an appearance at your piano. he brings you offers of fame and fortune for only the small price of your soul…

tags; gender-neutral reader, reader can sing and play piano, manipulation, alastor being unsettling, probs gonna be slow burn <3

word count; 1.9k

pairing; alastor x reader

a/n; ive never written for alastor before and this kind of character is outside my comfort zone. im hoping to make this into a multi-part story so let me know thoughts and such. reposts are greatly appreciated ^^

master post | part two

The piano that sat in your apartment was barely played anymore. Ever since you picked up more shifts at work to help pay your ever increasing bills, there wasn’t enough time in the day to play. You badly wanted to sit down and glide your fingers over the keys again, but every time you got home from work you were too tired. Today was just the same.

You had finally just gotten cozy in bed when you heard the sound of a singular key being pressed. That was enough to stir you and make you sit upright in bed. Your body froze in the darkness, brow furrowed, as your strained your ears to listen again. The silence was deafening all until you heard not just a note, but a chord being played.

Someone was in your home.

Your heart raced at the thought of someone breaking in. Adrenaline ran through your veins as your reached for your phone. The bright screen strained your eyes as you typed in the number for emergency services. Slipping carefully out of bed, you avoided all the floorboards you knew to be squeaky. Even the slightest of ruffles from your duvet sounded so loud in the dead of night.

You kept the emergency number on your screen, thumb poised to hit the call button the moment you were sure someone was there. Moving towards the living room, you could feel the weight of anticipation hanging heavily in the air. Anxiety crept up your neck as you reached the doorway and poked your head around it, expecting to see a murderer or a robber.

Instead, you were met with a surprising sight. There, sitting at your piano, was a figure cloaked in shadows, positioning their hands on the ivory keys. Then they began to play. The song you recognised was from your childhood. Your grandad had a vast collection of vintage vinyl records and this song appeared on one of them.

‘Ain’t Misbehavin’’ by Fats Waller.

You stood there mesmerised by the stranger’s skilful performance, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t until the other instruments in the song began to play that you were truly dumbfounded. It sounded like they were coming from an old radio, just like the one your grandad also happened to own.

You were unsure of what to do. Call the police? The number was still pulled up on your phone. Confronting them might end up in you being attacked. But something about the music held you captive, it drew you closer a few steps. That was a mistake. One creak of your floorboards and the music was reduced to radio static. A glint of red shone through the dark as you stood there like a deer in headlights.

Piercing carmine eyes held your wide-eyed stare. They bore holes into you and you could have sworn you felt your skin burning. You didn’t so much as breathe as you waited for the shadowed figure to make their next move. The only light in the room came from the city beyond your curtains and the phone which was slowly slipping from your grasp. When it hit the floor, the stranger’s eye twitched before they turned around fully on the stool to look at you.

The lights in your apartment flickered on and you almost let out a scream at the sight of the creature posed at your piano. His wide uncanny grin held the sharpest teeth you had ever seen in your life. Just that alone was enough to make you want to turn in run. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

“Ah, it seems I have an audience,” the voice came out like it was filtered, playing through the same radio that the instruments were coming from before. “I hope you don’t mind the impromptu performance. Your piano was simply too tempting to resist!” the make voice sounded smooth but with an edge of menace to it.

Torn between fear and curiosity, you hesitated with your next move. He just sat there grinning at you with wide eyes as he waited for your response. The crackling of a radio filled the void as you considered your options. This creature was such a stark contrast to your home and yet here he was, sat playing your piano as though he belonged. It was disturbing to say the least.

“What do you want?” you managed to choke out, your voice sounding quieter than you intended.

The creature chuckled as though you were the most amusing thing he had seen in a while. It send a chill down your spine as he crossed his legs and continued to eye you up without a change in his expression. That ever-present smile twisted as he spoke once more.

“Oh, nothing much, my dear. Just a bit of entertainment to lighten my mood,” he moved his hands as he spoke, swirling his wrists dramatically. “After all, what harm could a little music do?” with a flourish, he stood from the stool snd began inspecting various things in your living room. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he looked through your bookshelf silently.

You felt like the odd thing out right now despite this being your home.

You watched the creature as he looked at you over his shoulder before dissipating into the shadows. It happened so fast that is you blinked, you would have missed it. As you stood there, a new feeling of unease settled in the room. The piano beckoned you to it, its keys whispering a siren’s song that promised you happiness.

With trembling hands, you approached the instrument, still feeling the presence of the creature’s lingering charm. You couldn’t place what he was and that somehow felt worse than actually knowing. Your mind was trying to come up with any rational explanation for what just happened to you, but every string of thought came back blank. You started to consider the impossible and the supernatural. A wendigo, perhaps? The small, twisting horns on his head certainly suggested that but he didn’t look like any of the usual depictions of the folklore anomaly. What about a demon?

A demon.

Oh god, what if you just let a demon into your home? You stared straight ahead at the piano with fear building inside you. Despite your current mood, your hands rose to rest on the keys. There was an undeniable allure to the piano, a yearning to finish the demon’s song and fill the room with music that had been silenced for too long.

Taking a deep breath, you tentatively placed your fingers on the correct chords and hesitantly pressed down. The sound was uncertain at first, rusty and unpracticed. As you continued to play, however, the rhythm of it all came back naturally. You really hoped your neighbours wouldn’t mind you playing in the middle of the night.

With each note, you felt more at ease. It was a rather good distraction from what had just happened to you. You had almost convinced yourself you were just seeing things. With how exhausted you had been recently, you just chalked it up to being sleepy. The worries you had faded away and were replaced with the joy your music brought. You forgot about the intruder, going to bed, your unpaid bills, and all the responsibilities waring you down. All that mattered was the music, a beacon of light cutting through the dark that was your life at the moment.

As the final notes rang out, you closed your eyes with a peaceful smile. Whatever may come, you knew the music would always be there as a source of solace in times of need.

“Impressive, my dear. It seems you have a great talent for music,” a voice crooned in your ear, it dripped with honeyed malice, “But imagine what you could achieve with a little…assistance.”

Your eyes snapped open as you pushed yourself backwards and put as much distance between you and the demon as possible. The piano stool was now lying sideways on the floor as you moved with urgency.

So you weren’t just seeing things because you were tired. There really was a demon in your home and he seemed pretty adamant on conversing with you. Despite his charming voice, you knew his words were not to be trusted. Not only had he broken into your home, he had played your beloved piano. And now he was trying to offer you something by the sounds of it. Classic demon stuff.

“What do you mean?” you asked cautiously, now happy with the distance you put between the two of you. The demon’s grin widened more than you thought was possible, more teeth visible than before. “I propose a deal,” he said, voice dripping with temptation. “I give you piano lessons, help hone your skills, and guide you on the path to fame and fortune. In exchange, when the time comes for you to depart this world and enter the depths of hell, your soul will belong to me.”

Your heart raced at the offer. The promise of fame and success would be tempting for almost anyone, but the thought of selling your soul to a demon made you reconsider. “Is it worth it?” you asked yourself but he obviously heard you.

“The pleasures of fame are beyond compare!” He exclaimed, arms gesturing widely. “It’s much better than that awful dead end job you have now, that’s for sure. Think of giving up your soul for this as a small price to pay for greatness.”

You didn’t know what drug he infused with his words, but they were seriously making you consider this. The thought of being a master pianist who was loved and admired by millions was a silly dream you had when you were a kid. Now it was a single hand shake away. It was almost too enticing to resist but deep down, you knew that no amount of fame was worth the cost of your soul.

With steely resolve, you met the demon’s eyes and shook your head. “I’ll pass.” you said firmly, your voice tinged with whatever confidence you had in you at that moment. Who knew what denying a demon his feed would do.

The entity’s eye twitched, a look of annoyance crossing his features. The grin he kept on his face turned tense as a glint of frustration passed through his glowing eyes. Suddenly, all those emotions were gone as he put on a bright persona again.

“Ah, well,” he dismissed casually, waving his hand as though the encounter never happened. “The offer still stands should you ever change your mind. Until then, I bid you adieu, my dear musician.”

With a flourish, the demon disappeared into the shadows. The light went with him and you were left to stand in the darkness. The only light was coming from your phone which still lay on the floor with the emergency services number on the dial pad.

You were truly alone with your thoughts now. The fading echoes of his proposal stuck with you. You turned back to the piano and glared through the dark to see a piece of paper sat against the music desk. At the top of the sheet, the name ‘Alastor’ was written in elegant cursive. It didn’t take an idiot to figure out that this was the demon’s name.

Judging by the way he left, you were certain that this would not be the last time you’d be seeing him.

part two

#alastor x reader #gender neutral reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #x reader #reader insert #vaudeville vows

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chuckmaider · 20 days ago

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Those F*cking Polaroids

So, I saw Dinner in America recently and I don't know what just happened but it occurred to me to do this.

If you saw the movie you'll understand and if you didn't see it it doesn't really matter and its not really necessary bcs only part of it is based on the movie.

English it's not much frist language, pls sorry for any kind of error.

The Riddler/Edward Nashton x obsessive! gn! reader

Summary: Reader meets Riddler while browsing the Internet and becomes obsessed with him and his plan to unmask the city, and... Maybe send some curious Polaroids after hacking his address.

Warnings/tags: Obsessive behavior, address hacking, a bit of humiliation kink (reader), tall reader (like 2 o 3 cm more than Ed) , weird reader, creepy reader, obsessive reader, a little bit of dom! Reader Sub! Eddie, Eddie is weird too, prob autistic reader(?) and I so sorry but this si so Out of Character Eddie (idk how to write him I'm sorry 😭), I feel like this is kinda boring so uhm at least the beginning es very boring but um it's very long too i think soo Im sorry idk, we need more insane reader

I met The Riddler when I saw a video of him on some strange Internet page that I was on, it was one of his first posts and the beginning of his...career. At first I was just curious about what he wanted to do, we both had a lot in common about what we thought of the city, both of us were abandoned and discarded by those who claimed to take care of us, to look out of us, to give us a better life. Over time I started to see him more, I made an account and saw him on his page, sometimes, very rarely, I would comment on my opinion about what he said, and he really seemed to notice me.

I can't really say when I started to obsess about him, I guess from first moment that I saw him, something happened to me and that's why I kept seeing him.

I felt something, I felt something, I felt something when I saw him, and I think that's what led me to... Take this further. I didn't feel much, not because I was insensitive, I could feel, but nothing was really that exciting or interesting to capture my attention enough to make me feel anything. I work in a coffee shop, it's small, but sometimes fun things happen with customers, but not enough to keep me amused or not bored for the rest of the day, but there's one customer in particular, who comes almost every day, asks for a cappuccino, a pumpkin pie and sits for hours with a notebook to write. Sometimes I keep looking at him longer than necessary, it's interesting to know what might be going through his head, or what things he'll be writing about.

I was sitting watching the news on the small TV in the cafeteria, it was just me and the usual customer, he was, as always, writing things in his notebook. They were talking something about the Mitchell boy, a guy running for mayor of the Gothic City, just like everyone making empty promises, talking shit and more shit.

"This is crap, he should kill himself quickly and then maybe there will be a real change in this fucking city” I whispered thinking that no one would hear me, I took the remote control and was going to change the channel, but a voice stopped me “wait, I want to listen” it was lucky that there was no more noise than the TV and a few cars passing outside, otherwise I wouldn't have heard the low voice that spoke. I turned to look at him and left the control at the inn “do you support that shit?” I asked him, he looked at me for a few seconds and shook his head “no, of course not, he should kill himself for real change” I looked at him for a few seconds, and without saying anything I gave him a small smile. We didn't talk again after that, a new customer arrived and the old one left, I kept my eye on him as he left, and I could see how he sent me one last look and continued on his way.

After work I returned home and prepared for what was coming, today The Riddler (as we called it) would be live at night and I wanted to see it, but I had some things planned to do first. I studied programming for two or three years, I didn't finish my degree thanks to my lack of money and motivation, but I learned enough things to be able to do what I was going to do. Some would call me immoral, sick, or maybe call me a crazy and obsessed freak, but I wasn't interested right now, it never did. I took my computer and started, went to his page and copied the link, continued to go to other forums, writing codes and finally after a good hour I was able to locate his address (or at least that of his computer), I must say that he was quite protected, it cost more than other times, but I succeeded. I smiled when I saw the small bright spot on the screen, which indicated the exact place where his (I assume) house was right now, I didn't plan to know his identity, of course, I wanted to know who he was, but my plans were different.

I put on my clothes, exactly like his, and waited for the live show to start. I took my Instant Camera and left it aside from the computer. As I listened to his voice I could feel my body starting to warm up, I twisted myself a little in my chair and kept looking at him. After 10 minutes, i was hot enough and I started. I lowered my hand and put it under my pants and underwear, let out a sigh and tilted my head back, continued stroking, rubbing and I felt my climax approach, I accelerated my movements and with my free hand I took the camera and took a photo at the time of my ejaculation, waited for the photo to come out and throw it aside, I took my shiny hand out with my cum and took another photo of it, making sure that it could see the computer with the live one.

As the live went on, my breathing calmed down and I smiled excitedly. I could still feel my face warm because of the blush and the moisture of the sweat on my body “this is for you, Riddler...” I thought as I watched the screen. At the end of the live, he said goodbye to everyone and I closed my computer, took a notebook and wrote the Letter I had planned to send him along with the Polaroids

𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵

𝘐 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.

𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶,

𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘶𝘯,

𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴,

𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.

𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬.

I kept the Letter together with the Polaroids in a dark green envelope, closed it and saved it for sending tomorrow.

This became part of my routine for months, I wrote him letters, sometimes poems, other times I told him about my day and other times I told him my ideas and plans that he could use to unmask the city. Watching one of his lives, I could notice at one point that he had some Polaroids stuck on the wall, they weren't noticeable enough, but I noticed them.

In those months, I began to talk more with the customer who frequented the cafeteria, his name was Edward, I was never good with names, but I could remember his. We were quite similar, and even if neither of us really talked about their private life or past, I could tell that we had common opinions and other similar tastes, such as music. We were both part of a religious choir, my family was extremely religious and they put me in a church choir, which I left one day, the day I escaped from them. Edward loves riddles and all that kind of thing, he's really good with numbers too, riddles stressed me out, but numbers and calculations always helped me, as did technology. Edward was intelligent, he knew a lot about a lot of things, I didn't, but I liked to hear him ramble and digress about everything he wanted, I liked to hear him and feel that he could teach me, or easily humiliate me in anything he wanted, I studied programming and yet he seemed much wiser on that subject than me

Over time, I started to have some new feelings, feelings for Edward, at first I thought they were friendly, for being my first friend in years i was just excited, but I noticed things, I started to notice too many things in him, and I couldn't help but want to be with him, not as a friend. One day when I asked him for his number, I picked up his phone and quickly installed software and connected it to mine, it had his location and I could see everything he was doing on it, and although I know that there's no justification, I thought “it's to protect him, it's quite naive...” or so I thought. I didn't spend all my time seeing what I was doing or if I was talking to someone (which I didn't really do, I didn't talk to anyone but me)

After work I used to follow him, a part of me couldn't really get to his house, but I always saw him, constantly. I was so enthralled with him, too much, that it started to become painful. Edward, My Edward, was too much for me, everything I felt for him. I started compare him with him, with the Riddler, and I realized things that maybe I shouldn't have done. Looking at his address, I finally noticed his house was in the exact place where the Riddler lived, but it couldn't be him right? Even so, he couldn't know him either, he told me he lived alone, and I know he didn't lie to me.

While I was still with Edward, I continued to fall in, his way of talking, of thinking, of moving, his way of living with others, his hair, his eyes, his lips, his glasses. Everything about him had me trapped, entangled in him, and I didn't want to leave. Obviously, I hadn't forgotten Riddler, but he was different, I couldn't see him or feel like Edward, yet I kept sending him letters and photos, I was still his faithful follower.

I needed to know, I needed to know if what I knew was true, if all these months of research and incredible stupidity had worked, and in fact, Edward is The Riddler.

I warned at work that I was sick so I wasn't, I knew that Edward was at work and that, if my theory was correct, no one would be home. I went up the emergency stairs and saw his apartment, it had white curtains and the window opened easily, I suppose that when we are together I could fix it to make it safer, any freak could come in and do who knows what things. I could see when I was already inside, a large mural with everything related to Batman, the Waynes and Gotham City, I had a small computer in the inn and it was all quite messy and dirty, and full of papers and notebooks. I heard the jingle of the cage that was on the other side of the room and I saw that there were some rats inside, very good Edward, I won't judge your hobbies but I really wouldn't like to live with rats. I saw what the bathroom was like and it was quite dirty, it had empty pill bottles and in the corner there were some dirty clothes. Whether I took a shirt or not is not important. Finally I ventured to what would be his room, and even though his whole apartment was shouting The Riddler at me, I needed one last confirmation, being someone's most private room, I assumed that if Edward really was who I thought he was, everything should be there. I opened the door slowly and the first thing I saw was the large green fabric with the question mark in the middle characteristic of Riddler's fund of his lives, my breath was cut short for a moment and I felt as if I could ejaculate right now. It was him, Edward was, Edward is, the Riddler.

Then I saw them, I saw all of them, the Polaroids, the photos that I sent him together with the letters, each and every one of them in a space on the wall, attached to one side of his bed, there were some separate ones, marked as Favorites, he kept them, he stuck them, he really had me on his wall without even knowing that it was me.

I stayed for at least fifteen more minutes in his room, until I decided it was time to go, not before leaving a small hidden camera, just in case. That same night I couldn't sleep, after watching Riddler's live and knowing who he really was behind that beautiful mask, it could be said that I enjoyed masturbating too much watching him, the Letter was quite intense, demonstrating my devotion and love for him like never before. The next day I was still quite shocked but I knew how to hide it, until Edward, the Riddler, My Edward arrived... When I saw him I became more nervous than I usually would, not out of fear, no, of course not, I was ecstatic, my face burned just thinking about him and having it in front of me it felt as if I had just opened an oven and all the heat would come from it. “Hello Edward, the-the usual?” I asked him, feeling how my voice trembled very slightly “yes, thank you” He told me and sat in the inn in front of me. While I was preparing his coffee and taking out the piece of pumpkin pie I could feel his gaze on my back, burning and burning so exquisitely, I loved to feel his attention on me even though I was almost always the one who had his attention on him all the time, not because he wouldn't pay attention to me, but mostly I let him talk, and I contributed everything I could, but I loved listening to him too much to interrupt him. “Here, your coffee and your pie, it goes around the house, you don't need to pay anything” I said as I handed him his coffee, Edward looked at me surprised “what? -No, it's not necessary..!” ireplied, My Edward is so thoughtful. ”Don't worry Eddie, nobody here cares too much” I tell him and let out a giggle, I look at his eyes and notice that he relaxes, smiles and thanks me, proceeding to drink his coffee and eat his pie.

“Edd, would you like to come to my house today?” I asked her suddenly, seeing the surprise in her eyes, I could see her plump cheeks turning red and I smiled internally when I saw her reaction “you-your house? - I-i don't wanna bother you" he said "you could never bother me Edd, all these months and you don't know it?"

“Sorry, yes, but Uhm.. I have - I have some things to do and I really don't think I can go, I'm sorry” I could notice the nervousness in his voice which made me smile and want to play with him a little more "Come on, they can wait a day” I could see how he frowns and tried to disguise his surprise “what-what? Th-they what?”

"The work, silly. That's why you have to go home right? I know your type of job and they always leave a lot to do even after you finish everything” I could see how he visibly relaxed and the tension was leaving his body. “Yes, I suppose it can wait a little...” he smiled shyly at me. I told him to wait for me for a while since my work ended at 7 (what was in about fifteen minutes)

We walked for about twenty minutes until I reached the door of my apartment, “you know Edward, I've wanted to tell you some things for quite some time, I want to” I start talking as I open the door of my house “I did my homework and I was really surprised by the result, you know?” I let out a laugh, i still don't look at him as I entered the corridor and I locked the door “just in case, there have been some robberies around here” I say calmly, he looked at me confused just a few steps away from me. I looked back at him and finally dropped the “I know who you are, I know you're the Riddler” bomb.

“Who are you?” He seriously asks me “don't worry Eddie” I smile mockingly “I won't do anything to you, nothing you don't want at least” Edward takes only two steps towards me but immediately retreats as I approach him “don't even try anything Eddie, it's my house, I know it better than anyone” I walk slowly to him seeing how he goes back to girls with the wall next to the door that leads to the living room. Being close enough to feel his breath on my face, I start talking, “you know, I dreamt about this more times than I should, but before it wasn't you, well, it was you, but I didn't know it. Fantasize about the Riddler more times than you have done about destroying the city and its corruption. Later, I met you, we start talking and I could obsess with someone with a real face and name, but then... They were never two people were they? Just two personalities, Edward and Riddler” as I spoke I could feel like all their attention was on me, our eyes never disconnected until I approached him and whispered softly in his ear “but between us, we both know what the real one is, right?” I returned to his eyes, and for the first time it was me who kept talking, all too excited confessing to him. I took his shoulders and guided him to the door next to him, turned him around and made sure that his back would rest on me and let his eyes see all of my room, where everything related to Riddler and Eddie was, each of the points I connected and some photos I took without him noticed it “after a quick visit to your dirty apartment, I was able to confirm every single thing you see there, the Riddler was, in fact, my Edward” I squeeze his shoulders, and my voice breaks slightly thanks to my head, supporting my head on his shoulder and looking at him sideways, seeing his reaction to everything, I smile more broadly, I could confidently say that It's going to hurts my cheeks if I went on like this more time. “You, little mouse, were the cause of my obsession for months, and not only the Riddler, but also like Edward and, I swear, finding out that they were always just you, everything increased at least a hundred times more” I walked up to him, now looking at me again “Edward, Edward Nashton” I put my hands on his blushed cheeks “everything you see there is for you, And more, all the insane things I've done since I met you I did them for and for you, I am completely yours from the moment I found you, and oh God, seeing how you kept and pasted those Polaroids that I sent you was like getting to heaven, seeing that you really saw me without even knowing who I was makes me squirm in my bed like a teenager in love. You didn't know it and you already missed me”

Eddie put his hands on my hands that supported his cheeks, and spoke for the first time in minutes “it was always you, the one with the Polaroids..? Were you always the one who wrote all those letters to me? For Riddler?” she asked softly looking into my eyes “of course it was me, of course it was always me, Eddie” I smiled at him big time. "You don't- you don't know how those Polaroids affected me, what they did to me... You don't know how much those Polaroids worked on me...” the intensity in his gaze could cross walls if he could, but in me it only pierced my heart “oh Eddie-” without being able to finish, I felt like Edward kissed me intensely, melting at his touch I let myself go, I felt his teeth hitting mine thanks to the hardness of the kiss, his tongue entered my mouth and with pleasure I let him do what he wanted with me, his hands came down from mine to my waist and they hugged me tightly, I let out a moan through the feeling, his mouth and mine, his lips and the Mine, his tongue and mine are twisting, Edward let out a moan when he felt my pelvis hit his, being able to feel his growing bulge in his pants.

I took his hands and slowly raised them up my body until I left them on my shoulders hugging them, instead I lowered mine and tucked them under his jacket and t-shirt, feeling their quality leather. I slowly went up and down my hands all over his torso, squeezing his skin on my hands, feeling like Eddie let out small gasps in the kiss.

After a hot session of kissing and touching as a result of an intense declaration of my love for him, we were lying on my bed, staring intently at each other without saying anything, too busy keeping every detail about each other to talk. “Edward” I call him in a whisper, getting a “hum?” on his part “this isn't a dream, is it?” I asked him, “if this is a dream, I wish I would never wake up” and he answered.

Hello! This is the first fic that I will publish here on Tumblr, I don't know if I make it constant but if you like the way I write (which I doubt because I myself feel that it is quite bad, especially since it's not in my language)

I feel like the ending goes by very quickly, I'm sorry it's 1am and ik tired, and I'm also sorry for the very likely OOC! Edward, I'm not very good at capturing the essence of a character already created unless I created it hehrjee I'm sorry

Even with all that, I hope that if you finished it and it didn't bored you, you liked it and you can make any suggestions and/or corrections to me, I don't know if I'm taking request or something, but you can still send them to me and I'll see if I could do them:)

#edward nygma #edward nashton x reader #the riddler #riddler 2022 #dano riddler #paul dano #the batman 2022 #yandere edward nashton #x reader #edward nashton #obssesive #obsessive love #obsessive behavior #no use of y/n #gn reader

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spiderlandry · 1 year ago

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stay — jake sully

Description: Jake reflects on a love from his past life.

Pairing: Past Human!Jake Sully x F!Reader, Jake Sully x Neytiri

Warnings/Tags: angst, kind of fluff, death mention (tom sully), i dont know anymore it’s just kinda bittersweet

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: it’s jake’s birthday today (august 24) !!! so im posting two jake fics :] the other one is fluff i promise

PRESENT

Guilt has to be some type of chronic pain, Jake thinks. It sits in his ribcage beside his heart like a heavy stone, only alleviated by the reminder that he has a life now and the past is long gone. But the problem is that it would always haunt him. He’s a sinner, he has to pay.

Being with Neytiri makes him feel alive, it really does. He loves her. But there’s a place in his heart only occupied by one person right next to Neytiri’s place—you.

You, who was the first to ever see him. The first to ever give him a taste of what it was like to love and be loved. When he was learning the words oel ngati kameie, his point of reference was you. Your heart that he so diligently worked to earn, something you shared that he didn’t deserve. Don’t get him wrong, he’s sure you’re still on your feet. Hell, you probably found someone better. He hopes you have and that you’ve also realized that one’s heart can belong to two, just like his.

He wonders sometimes if you know his heart still belongs to you.

2146

“Pretty lady,” Jake greeted you as he wheeled himself into the pub. This wasn’t his usual place, but he’d come here more regularly all because of one person: you. “How’s business tonight?”

“Better now that you’re here, Sully.” You flashed him a cheshire grin from behind the bar, pouring him the usual.

You were the pretty bartender that caught his eye, months ago. It wasn’t a rare occurrence for him to observe beautiful women from afar, but you were different. Though you were attractive, it was one particular conversation that drew him completely to you, where you spoke of your own dreams as a scientist even in the quickly deteriorating shithole that was the city you’d both considered home. It gave him something. It gave him hope. Just a sliver.

He watched you from the corner of the room while you did your job.

He waited for you until the end of your shift, careful not to drink too much so he can remember the next morning. To remember how you grinned at him when you opened the door to your apartment, and to spend the next few hours kissing him stupid.

PRESENT

There’s nothing like the date nights with Neytiri. It’s freedom injected into his veins. They fly together, circling the floating mountains and laughing as they chased each other. The world glitters and glows around them, and the world falls away.

By the end of the night, he cages her inside his arms, protection enough for the both of them—he protects himself by shielding her.

And there’s a flash—just a second—of his past life.

It happens. Rarely, but it happens. Sometimes Neytiri would run her fingers through his hair just right, or she would shove him playfully with such a precise force that it matches a memory buried deep under the grounds of the graveyard inside his mind where he mourned his other life, and along with it, you. For one moment, he’s back in a human body, with your soul still there with him, somehow.

He only falters for a single frame, but it’s enough for her to notice. She doesn’t pry in the hopes he’ll tell her someday. He’s got a type—Neytiri is beautiful and patient, just like you.

2148

His apartment gathered dust while he spent all of his time at your place. He’d never dare utter the word out loud, but it was becoming home for him. When you had opening shift at the bar, he awoke to gentle lips on his forehead and a promise to come home later.

Promise. Jake didn’t have much of it in his life. But once again, you reignited a sense of belonging that he once had.

There was no other place for him to be.

At least until those two agents showed up at the door and demanded he go with them. He was shown his twin’s dead body, and it was then he saw the other side of the coin. That could have been him. It should have been him, technically. Tom was always the better one.

Jake was proposed with a choice.

It was nighttime when he got to you, and you were already there waiting for him with a worried expression. There was no grieving, but there was guilt.

You held him for hours in silence after he told you what happened.

In the morning, he further explained to you what those agents told him, and you listened patiently—intently—without interruption. Afterward, you smiled solemnly. Perhaps you’d already known his choice even before he did.

For a long time, you knew that Jake felt lost. No sense of purpose, he told you. And while you were a pillar of stability for him, his heart sought for an objective. You had your studies, your aspirations. He didn’t have any goal to work toward. You, being you, recognized his craving for something more.

“If you go, I won’t hold it against you.” You said, preparing breakfast at the crack of dawn. There was only sleeplessness for both of you.

“But?” He asked.

“But what, Jake?” You glanced at him, unable to make eye contact for longer. “What do you want me to say?”

“If you tell me to stay, I will.”

“We both know I’m not doing that,” You sighed. That was the thing, you knew him too well. “Do you want me to tell you to stay?”

His silence said it all.

“Look,” despite your nerves, you finally faced him. Courage he saw in your eyes. “I love you. There’s nothing that’ll change that. I don’t want you to go, but I’ll never tell you to stay.”

“That’s nonsense.”

And despite the edge in his voice, you smiled. “This would be good for you,” you caressed his jaw. “You’ll come back. It’s not forever.”

He rested his head against your middle as you ran your fingers through his hair soothingly, scratching at the scalp.

“I’ll come back, I promise.” He whispered.

“I don’t doubt that, Jake.”

He intended to keep that promise.

PRESENT

He would never stop thanking you for not telling him to stay. If you didn’t, he wouldn’t have his family. But he promised to come back, and that’s where the guilt grows tenfold.

The guilt doesn’t end. He doesn’t really expect it to.

With a strong heart, he prepares himself to tell Neytiri about you.

In the back of her mind, she likely knew there was already someone before her. By making the bond, they share everything, and with a haze, she felt Jake’s love being shared with another. She sensed his hesitance to get close to her during training.

He tells her about finding purpose, about how he fought for you, that everything he did—even as Toruk Makto—was all so he can make you proud.

He exhausts himself telling endless stories of your adventures together on Earth, and regardless of her distaste with sky people, there is no greater joy for her than hearing him share this part of his life. It means the secret would no longer plague him.

Don’t get him wrong, he moved on long ago. Found happiness without you. But that does not mean he stopped loving you; it’s a part of him as much as his bond with Neytiri.

Someday, he hopes to pass onto his children the kind of bravery he gained from being with you. To be unapologetically courageous—to fight for want you want. When they’re older, there may be a circumstance where he can give advice from a lesson he learned from you. One of which being that there’s more love in one’s heart than they think.

He lounges with Neytiri in a secluded part of the mountains, holding her, when he spots a new light in the sky. A light that, unbeknownst to him, contains you.

#idk why i ended it like that lol #i feel like theres potential for this to be a series #like maybe reader signed on as a scientist to keep an eye on jake #after humans lose the war she ends up signing with the rda to go to pandora #then i would turn it into a tsu’tey fic where she finds love after jake aw #jake sully x reader #jake sully #avatar #avatar twow #avatar the way of water #avatar the way of water x reader #atwow #atwow x reader #jake sully angst

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writingwithcolor · 1 year ago

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Japanese Q Speedround: Google Is Right There

Hi, it’s mod Rina. It’s time to speedrun some asks.

@troublsomeidiots asked:

I'm writing a character who is both black and Japanese and lives in japan in a primarily Japanese area and wanted some help in writing a person who is biracial who lives in primarily homogenous society? Like what kind of struggles she would face, especially as a person who has never met anyone who is black other than in passing?

Open Youtube. Hit search bar on Youtube. "being black in japan" "half black half japanese in japan" "black hafu in japan". Try different combinations of keywords. Bon voyage.

(neither Marika nor I are Black. We will not be speaking to experiences we do not have.) (we can outsource to some of our friends if you ask a specific question. These are not specific questions.)

(Black Japanese readers--please feel free to comment if there’s something you want OP to know!)

@layzeal asked:

Hello! I have a question regarding family/last names in Edo period Japan. My story takes place in 1816, my character was born in 1796 from a commoner family (that she gets separated from a few years later, and in a different country).

I've read that regular people in Japan didn't adopt the use of family names until Meiji restoration, but I'm not sure how true that is. Would a family of commoners in that period carry a family name, or would they only use their first names? And any idea if that family would have to present a last name when moving/passing by a different country that does use them?

It's important for me to know, since the existence of a last name or not would quite heavily influence how hard it'd be for the family to meet again, and which means would be used. Thanks in advance!

When I gave Google some keywords from your query, the second result explained how pre-Meiji commoners without family/clan names used bynames to distinguish themselves, and gives additional data on them. Maybe give it another Google?

@weavefeather asked:

Hello, I am a writer and I really need some advice. I am wotking on my book since a few years, maybe 2 or 3, and I finally got the points together how it could begin. My plan is that my MC (named Nanami Kudo) is an lawyer of the FBI and has to go to her homecountry Japan, beacuse they send her to foreign investigations about a syndicate of people..... And the some things happen, like her brother who still lives in jp doesn't really welcomes her, some complications with the police and so on...

But thats not the point! Im really struggling to take in words how she gets to the other country, leaving her home behind and her partner she worked with. Do you have any advice on it, maybe how to structure it, some words or scenarios that fit?

How she gets to the other country: …..She flies there.

How US government agents/workers relocate and what the experience is like: That's your job to google. We are not government agents. Try anecdata on reddit, reddit AMAs, and Quora.

It’s unclear what her relationship/proximity to Japan is. What kind of nikkei is she? Is she mixed race or monoracial? How much Japanese can she speak? So many unknowns. Go read our Japanese tag and appreciate just how many ways one can be a Japanese person. Until then, you are nowhere near close to being able to write a nikkei homecoming plot.

Lastly, you are the author. Give us scenarios yourself and come back to us.

In Conclusion

Guys, you all gots to google some more. It’s beneficial to both of us: not only do we get to help with more specific things and have enough info to do so, but you don’t have to wait months until your ask comes through the backlog only to receive an answer you could have researched in anywhere from a couple days to 3 minutes.

~ Rina

“But Rina, I don’t know how!”

You’re in luck!

First, try one of our own post on Google shortcuts.

Second, stay tuned for some very relevant posts...

COMING SOON: WWC’s A Beginner’s Guide to Academic Research

#japanese #mixed race #japanese diaspora #research #asks

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weirdwildwonderland · 6 months ago

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youtube

THOUGHTS ON THE S4 TRAILERRRR

None of this filler post bs anymore my favorite characters are back and here's what I have to say about it.

First of all, I kind of went on hiatus from this show back in January so it feels really weird seeing them on screen again especially since the last time I was so excited for it was literally January 2023 (a year and a half ago) when I binged the whole show.

"Hargreeves Home for Wayward Boys?" What????

FIVE LILA HUG YESSSSS BRO PLATONIC FRENEMIES ASF. BUT DID SOMETHING HAPPEN TO DIEGO???

Klaus breathing into a bag/hanging upside down/doing an actual seance. what is this man. bro seems kinda depressed

DIEGO AND LILA PARENTSSSS??????? YAYYYYYYY

DIEGOLILA KID BDAY PARTY???? ***also I noticed the piñata AND all the women wearing saris, so that's really cool because the kid is growing up with both cultures

"Smile!!!!" "oh god"

ALLISON AND CLAIRE REUNITED YESSSS

wait does that mean ray is also back????

Viktor working at a bar????? And sounding more confident than he's ever been in his life?????

VIKTOR PUNCHING ALLISON IN THE SAME ROOM WHERE THEY HAD THE ACTUAL S3 CONFRONTATION????

Luther????? and the spacesuit?????

Viktor talking to reginald?

What the fuck is that weird rainbow drone thing????

Reginald hold machine gun?

THE BALL PIT IS THE MAIN CHARACTERRR

"This is a rescue mission >:("

BEN IN JAIL

why reginald put headphones on everyone :O

"We drive each other crazy. But when things go to hell, they're there for me." IM CRYINGGGG

Overall I'm so excited for this season. It seems like they're finally together as a family and actually want to be family again (not because of forced proximity or running out of time). Also lots of fun set locations, no covid restrictions, new characters. Holy shit I can't wait I am so excited.

Finally if you're a s4 hater I will be blocking you :)

#tua s4 #tua #lemme reiterate that last point ok #if you're hating on something you haven't even seen yet #get that negative energy away from me I already have enough of that #and touch some grass #please #the umbrella academy

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moochalove · 11 months ago

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Last Nights Mistakes and New Beginnings (Part 4-5)(Final)

(yandere!kazuha x pregnant!reader x scaramouche)

Did you know they call me the yappinator? Anyways i’ve been meaning to finish it but i’ve been busy w school but now i have the time so i will be yapping away more (posting a little more)🗣️ Get cozy bcs this is long asf!

Reader is bi-icon! (+ trauma) If imma be fr, the beginning is a little off bcs i wrote it weeks ago (im lazy and i will not fix it🥶) ANYWAYS ILL STOP YAPPING! TY FOR READING 🤭 (if u do😡)

word count: Pretty fucking long ❤️

proofread: HELL NO! 😋 fill in the gaps/mistakes for me pls🫶

TW: Stockholm syndrome

Arriving at the mall you think about making a break for it but these heels prevent you from doing so. With enough for the heel would surely snap though… Noted. Reaching for the door handle you’re stopped and pulled into a kiss. It’s a little uncomfortable but you play it off with a smile, “Don’t worry Kazu, I’m not gonna run off~” “I know darling, but this is the start of our new life so allow me to take the lead. Don’t worry your pretty mind about anything.” With that, he places one last peck onto your face. Once again, he is opening the door for you and you guiding you to the some shops. Immediately you notice his firm grip on your waist, and it’s uncomfortable. He said you would be buying clothes but you now realize he meant he was picking clothes FOR you. You’re in the dressing room and he has you trying on all these cute coquette clothing. It feels a little uncomfortable but you try to get used to the feeling of the outfits. Some are loose, and some are tighter. In your mind, you already knew which ones you liked based on the texture, design, etc..

Whenever you came out to show off an outfit you felt like a real couple. Showing off your outfit and making comments, no matter what you wore he seemed to agree it looked good on you, even if you didn’t think so. Something feels wrong about this but you can’t help but smile when he looks at you so adoringly.

You guys go to about three more shops, all of them having a different theme. By the time you were done, it was mid-afternoon. Both of your feet were killing you… not to mention you were hungry… You both agree to stop and get something to eat.

You arrive at a very familiar restaurant… Weren’t you just here? When was that though? If it was important surely you’d remember!

•

Scaramouche was frantic, to say the least. You weren’t answering his messages… Has something happened? He needs to get to you asap, but how? What if you’ve been removed from your home? If it came to it he could ask his mother to track you down, since she had that kind of power.

Knocking on the door he’s anxious, and hoping he would be met with a bright smile and worried hushing telling him that you were okay. After about a minute he knocks on your room window… No reply. Should he wait around? No, that’ll take too long. After some contemplation, he decides to reach out to his mom.

They have a long talk before she eventually caves. It feels like it’s been forever since she’s seen her child and when he comes back he’s on an adventure trying to get his girlfriend back. She didn’t think situations like that existed but he’s shown her the possibilities are endless. The way he talked about you so dearly gave her the impression you were a thing. Since she’s such a good and caring mother, it’s the least she can do for her future daughter!

Maybe he should’ve emphasized that you were just friends even though he wished for more

From what some super normal and not shady people told him, you were last seen at that restaurant you both had visited yesterday. Why were you there? That didn’t matter right now! Furrowing his eyebrows he sat there and thought long and hard. How was he going to get to you? Kazuha would most likely be glued to your side so directly approaching was out of the question. Could he signal you to him from afar? No, that probably won’t work… Pounding his forehead slightly he couldn’t form a good plan.

“You seem troubled, Doll.” A sly finger guided itself through his short purple locks.

“What do you want, Miko? I’m busy and-“

“You know it’s nice to run away then come running back when you need help. Your mother was on edge for weeks. Spending whatever free time she had looking for her poor child. Always looking for you despite her own needs.”

“Did you come to ask me what’s wrong only to turn around and try to guilt trip me? You don’t change, do you?”

Without saying anything she placed a bag next to him and then made her way to the door. Peeking through the bad he looked back to her fleeting figure before shouting out, “Wait! What is this for? You really expect me to forgive you with this bag full of clothes?! Plus, this has girl stuff in it anyways-“ “Silly Kuni! This is to help you get your girl back!” “Excuse me?!” Miko sighed while shrugging, “And you say your moms are no help! C'mon, you have to think outside the box, silly!” Taking the bag back she pulled out the cutest dress you’ve ever seen along with tights and heels. “It’d be stupid to approach her directly. You have no idea what kind of mental state she’s in, she may not trust any other man or claim she’s fine with her captor.” Digging deeper into the bag she pulled out a long wig that happened to be the same shade as his own hair, “So you have to coax her out as someone willing to understand and help her out of the situation!” Before he knew it he was all dolled up, shifting uncomfortably in the dress and trying to adjust his posture and his footing, constantly brushing his much longer locks back while puckering and rolling his lips that had a gloss applied to them. Would this really work?

“Miko, I don’t think this is gonna work… I don’t make a very convincing girl….” he awkwardly fussed with his bangs before glancing over at her. Miko held her phone up and with a click and a flash the very image of… whatever this was… saved onto her phone and probably being backed up to her cloud. “Oh, you look just like your sister!” Placing her phone back in her bag she shooed him out of the car before, then rolled down the window offering a few words, courtesy of her never-ending-kindness! “Just be kind to her, her heart will surely realize who you are... Or don’t! Maybe she’ll see through all of this!” Scaramouche could only grit his teeth as she motioned her hand at him. “I’ll be waiting here so once she comes to her senses I won’t be far. Plus! Wouldn’t want you to try and be all hero-like only to trip and fall in those cuttteee heels of yours!”

•

Spoonful after spoonful you swallowed whatever food had been shoved into your face. Were you even hungry? Not that it matters. At this point, you’ve come to treat this as if it were a real date! Yet your heart doesn’t skip a beat when he cups your face. A couple of people do glance over at you both awkwardly but that smile of yours tells them you’re just a young couple in love. It goes on like this for a few more minutes before beautiful swaying locks catch your eye, it’s true you’ve been ignoring the faces of those who’ve been passing by, but this face is stunning. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet each other. Now something about all this feels familiar but you can’t quite pin it down just yet. Kazuha notices how your attention is drawn away from him and he immediately pulls your chin towards him, “Is something the matter my love? You seem distracted.” He bluntly states as his eyebrows furrow slightly in frustration. “A-ah, no, I just…” Perhaps you were scared or maybe still stunned by that girls beauty but you can’t seem to form a coherent thought. He shifts around in his seat a little, ever so slightly moving his chair to block your view of the girl. With a short ‘ahem’ you brush it off as just seeing someone you thought you recognized.

If you look past his intense gaze you can still kinda see her fussing with her long hair. A waiter shows her to her table that so happens to be next to yours. You bite your tongue to hide a giggle when you see her awkwardly try to walk in heels, maybe she’s not used to them? Once she sits down it’s obvious she’s not used to wearing such feminine clothes, the way she keeps lifting her feet off the ground and sliding them farther out, or how she pulls the hem of her dress down even though it’s past her knees. The way she covered her mouth and spoke in a quiet meek voice told you maybe she was shy. Kazuha glanced at you both, almost trying to understand the connection you guys had but signed in defeat, “I’m gonna use the restroom then pay for our food. Don’t go anywhere.” And with that, he was gone but surely it wouldn’t take him long to be back.

Scaramouche had to be quick about this. The least he could do is get you outside.

Trying to keep his ladylike demeanor he tried starting the conversation with something normal. Of course, this meant he would have to speak a little louder in order for you to hear in the louder environment. He would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t “practiced” his female voice.

“Isn’t the food here the best?”

Taken aback by how cute she sounded you cover your mouth slightly. “She even has a cute voice!”, you thought to yourself. Once again stunned you take a moment to respond.

“Y-yeah!” your response is a little fast-paced but she just smiles in response. “Haha, you seem a little nervous, what, too stunned by my looks?” Even though he was supposed to be portraying a meek, innocent girl, he couldn’t help but still be cocky. It’s as if you were on autopilot with the way your response was the same yeah…

Part of you felt like that’s something he would say. Who was he again?

“It’s a little stuffy in here, don’t you agree? How about we get some fresh air?” The girl suggested so innocently that you’d completely “forgotten” what Kazuha told you NOT to do. As if you’d been under a spell you followed a girl you didn’t even know the name of out of the restaurant. Her name! You need her name! This can’t be the last time you see each other you need her contact info! You reach to where you would normally keep your phone only for your attention to be stolen away by her.

She handed you her phone that had a picture of a very certain cat. Your heart fastens as you start to recall some things, you couldn’t submit to someone who only half-loved you. No, you had to get home to your first baby. Tears threaten to spill as everything comes back faster than you can comprehend.

He didn’t love you, no, he never did. If he did he would’ve stayed the first night. He was just looking for something to sedate his own woes. You come to the realization that your delusions you made up to protect yourself were false. You haven’t been in love for years like your mind had told you, you don’t know what he really feels, you just filled in the blanks with lies your mind fed you. In reality, you’ve probably only really known each other for a couple of days, during those 4 months you spent pregnant and alone your brain spun a story as if you were real lovers. Hating yourself could come later but for now, you need to get a grip and get out of here. Suddenly you’re caught up to speed and all it feels like you’re gonna vomit, your clothes feel tighter and you can feel your own skin, every pore feels open and you hate every second of it. What feels like hours is only a matter of seconds.

A hand is gently wipes your tears away,

“It’s time to go, Y/n.”

“I cant.. I’m sacred. I-“

“Don’t be. I'm here now, and I’m not letting you go.” He looked so serious, although a little funny since he was still in his getup.

Reaching for your wrist he gently and slowly led you farther away from the establishment and closer to your getaway car.

Both of your steps got faster and faster. You didn’t want to look back, no, you shouldn’t.

A voice you’ve come to hate shouts out to you. Ears pound loudly and your heart skips several beats when you hear fastened footsteps approaching. A wave of pain crashes onto you when your lower back aches in pain. You stop even though you don’t want to and clutch your stomach in retaliation.

You have to move right now otherwise he’ll catch up. Scaramouche turns back around for you and effortlessly picks you up and carries you to the car. When he turned to place you in the car he’s sure Kazuha has seen his face. Crap… Not like it mattered right now. He rushes to the other side of the car but is pulled back by a hand that is placed on his back, it’s cold and uncomfortable. Almost as if it triggered something in him he shouts and pushes him back into the ground.

Once Scaramouche is in the car Miko doesn’t hesitate to slam on the gas pedal and get you both somewhere safe.

Final Part:

When you wake up you’re in a very comfy bed. Moving your legs a little you wince uncontrollably. Memories come flooding back and your eyes dart to where Scaramouche is sitting. A smile makes itself known on your face and you reach out to him. He melts into your touch but avoids looking at you. You know you messed up big time by not running away from Kazuha like you should have… But you were in a deranged state! Surely he won’t blame you completely. Breaking the silence you ask him what’s wrong.

“I know we kinda just met but I hope you know I love you…” he trailed off, still avoiding eye contact. “I always have… It’s a shame you don’t remember me. If you did then I guess you could technically say we didn't just meet.”

Huh? You two knew each other? Maybe he’s got the wrong person. Innocently you ask, “Have we met somewhere before? I’m sorry but I don’t seem to ever recall-“ “Just take a good look at me and try to recall. We used to be playmates when we were little. Your parents were busy like mine so they would drop us off at that one daycare.” Your eyes squint as you take a good look at him, “And we went to school together for a little while- I tried stealing your pen-“ Eyes widening you can’t help but burst out laughing.

Now you remember him!

“It’s you! I- How could I forget? Oh my gosh, it seems work has made me forget my younger days!” Covering your mouth to hide a smile you can’t help but laugh a little louder. His face seems upset but eventually melts into a smiling one along with you. For a couple of moments you both laugh and exchange playful banter. Everything in the world is right at that moment.

But once again, your mistakes will catch up with you.

After the laughing dies down he squeezes your hand and places a handle on your stomach. This causes you to shift uncomfortably but you try to play it off as a cramp.

“When the Doctor came to relay your status he told me one bit of information that… you probably didn’t want me to know.”

Oh shit. Oh shit- Your heart fastens and you try to muster out a response but it hitches in your throat. “I-I canexplain p-please let me-“You fumble your words and tears pool up in your eyes.

With an affirmative squeeze to your hand he smiles softly, “It’s okay.”

“But it’s not- I messed up and now-“ You covered face with your hand, attempting to hide yourself away from him.

“And now- we can work this out, together. I promise I will do my best to be a good parent. If you’d just give me a chance- A chance to take care of you and your child. I would do anything to be with you once and for all. Please, Y/n, don’t leave me again.” His hand came up to yours pressed against your face, and slowly removed it from you.

A part of you feels raw, and exposed, yet, this time it’s different. Part of your brain tells you to run from his affection but the other part feels so defeated that you just want to cry into his chest and beg him to stay with you. Lucky for you he was willing to stay with you. Even if you were going to have your kidnapper's baby. Leaning into him you cried out all your sorrows that had been bottled up for the past couple of months. All he could do was rub your back and listen to you cry your heart out.

It felt good to finally tell someone how you truly felt. How much has been troubling you? Although you’re sure if you were to tell this to a professional you’d been locked up….

After you’re done crying you wipe your tears and take a deep breath. Your chest and shoulders feel lighter. The whiplash of everything could hit you later, you couldn’t care less right now. All you wanted to do was eat, stretch, and take a nap.

Scaramouche looked at you dead in the eye and you feared the worst. Was he joking? Did he actually hate you and never want to see you again? Did-

“Goddamit- I dropped my wig…”

You stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing. “That’s a shame! You didn’t look half bad in it~” you joked. “Oh please- You were head over heels for me and you know it!” “Ah, you got me there! Who knew you’d make such a fine girl! If only you could say the same about you know-Ow!” he punched your shoulder gently, but considering your current state it hurt more than he intended. “I’m sorry, Y/n- I-“ He checked the area to see if it was bruised or anything but was immediately met with a flick to the forehead. “Ow-!” “Haha, got you!” “You little-“

Both of your bickering would soon die down as soon as his parents would enter the room. It was obvious how you both turned stiff as boards. Acting as if you weren’t pulling each other’s hair like you once had.

Ei placed some flowers on the bed stand and Miko would sit down on the bed with some sweets in hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Y/n.” Ei bowed politely, “I’m not sure if my son had mentioned us to you. If not it’s alright- But we are his parents.” Miko started feeding some cake with a fork as she nodded along. “I’m very happy to see you make my son happy. It used to worry me that my son would die alone-“she feigned a tear falling from her eye. “MOM.” Blush spread across Scaramouche’s face as he crossed his arms. “Ah, excuse me, that’s beside the point! What I mean to say is that you shouldn’t worry about the wedding founding- Your new moms will buy you everything you will need-“ “THATS NOT ANY BETTER!” He exclaimed even redder. She smiled so innocently all while still looking a little confused. Miko finally chimed in, “What she means to say is that she supports you both no matter what. Even if you don’t think she agrees with you,” she turned her head towards him, “she believes you both will make the right choice. We hope you both can treat this as a new beginning. As I like to say, carpe diem!” “You never say that.” Ei tilted her head with a soft smile. “Well, I do now!”

All four of you burst out laughing. You guys talk a little more before they leave for their business dinner. Once again you and Scara are alone.

“Are you really sure you’re okay with marrying a pregnant woman?” “Of course I’m fine with it, since it being you and all.” Rubbing the back of his head he laid his head down on the bed, “Are YOU sure you wanna get married right away? Just because my mom mistook us for dating already doesn’t mean we should skip that part… Plus, what if you don’t like who I am…” You pet his soft purple hair with a smile, “Well, as long as you promise not to be a complete asshole, then I suppose we’ll be just fine!” “You think I’m an asshole?” “Haha, anyways…. What kind of wedding cake should we have? I was thinking of a [favorite flavor] cake! Ooohh and we can look at the different types of venues! Ah, I guess after that we need to plan a baby shower!”

He’d completely tuned you out and just stared at you, lovingly. Your skin glowed perfectly from the artificial light, and that smile of yours was perfect. You no longer looked tired and stressed; instead, you looked happy and not so tired. He couldn’t blame his ex-friend for falling for you. Although he feels a little jealous that he’s seen parts of you that now belong to his eyes only now.

Fingers tap up and down on the bed as if he’s contemplating something. You take notice and tap his shoulder, you ask if he’s listening. Suddenly he gets up- His soft lips are placed against your slightly chapped ones. It’s warm. Your eyes widen in surprise as you slowly melt into the kiss.

Once he pulls away you’re both gasping for air. Out of embarrassment, he hides his face in your neck. He’s embarrassed- you are too. “A-a little warning would’ve been nice. I was talking yknow?” “Shut up before I kiss you again..” You knew he was too embarrassed to do it again so you teased, “Yeah, I think you’d like that-“ Instead of another passionate kiss he instead peppered kisses all over your face. “I hate you.” “I love you, Scara.”

•

The wedding went amazing since his parents had done most of the planning (of course you both directed them) And your baby shower went just as well! Initially, you were both worried a certain someone would catch wind of it- and you’re sure he did. Thankfully the place was heavily guarded (, courtesy of Miko) and was also in a secluded area, along with there being a very strict guest list. You both already knew the gender so the part just consisted of fun baby shower games and many gifts from your friends and families.

You had been getting intensive therapy for the rest of your pregnancy. Those couple of months left you with deeper wounds than you had thought. Of course, you still have trouble with going out on your own and you’ve completely dropped going out (since you’re a mother now ofc) When you do have to go out alone you wear your hair differently each time along with a mask and sunglasses. Whenever someone gets a little too close they happen to get stopped by someone. Your bad dreams usually consist of you trying to run away but your legs move slowly or trying to scream but nothing comes out, and other things you’d rather not discuss...

Your delivery went well and luckily you gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Ei and Miko informed you that you had a week to name him. On the fifth day, you and Scara decided on [name], since you both liked the name and agreed on it. When both of the families came to see him you got the chance to meet Scara’s aunt and sister (who both happened to be named Makoto, although Scara called his sister Raiden since she was “scary”) The boy was blessed with your hair color (he has a red streak through it) but had his fathers eyes. At first, it scared you but with some affirming words from both sides of the family and your lover, you’ve grown to love them.

Some of your friends and family didn’t approve that Scara wasn’t the father, some even berating you and calling you names. The name-calling mostly came from Scara’s side of the family. Area

On your son's first birthday, he spoke his first words. “Mama!” You nearly cried tears of joy when he said that. Scaramouche frowned and pinched the boy's cheeks gently with a huff. Much to his surprise the boy spoke again, “Daddy!” Now both of you were crying tears of joy. You swaddled your boy in the softest blankets before you both cuddled him off to sleep. Both not believing you had been blessed with such a joy.

Once your son has gotten a little older he learned how to say the cat’s name, always gesturing his hands and babbling, “Meowmeow!” The now healthier cat would come to the boy and rub its head against your son accompanied by a purr.

Once he turned two years old you noticed how he started taking after his father, often mimicking him by making an angry face and huffing. All you could do was smile and kiss him while his father pouted behind you both. One time you had joked around with your young son by asking him, “What face does daddy make when he’s angry” and your son crossed his arms with a scowl on his face. You burst out laughing while your husband messed with his hair pretending to be upset.

You went back to work while Scara was a stay-at-home husband. On stressful days you would come home, sore and tired, but the moment your eyes laid on Scara’a resting figure along with your sons. Well, your heart simply melted into mush as you took about 30 pictures of them from all angles. You were convinced that all of the time you spent alone and suffering was worth it for this moment.

It felt like that person was a bad dream- but now, you’re wide awake and ready to face the future with your loving husband, and adorable son.

Gawdamn I don’t stop yapping🙏 If you read all of this ty pookie!! there will be a $10 mil block of gold under your pillow when you wake up 😍😋 I will be writing some hcs (maybe) and a scenario where u encounter kazuha w your kid soon!!! (i promise) Anyways i’m knocking tf out… BAI><!!

♡ taglist: @swivy123

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x y/n #genshin fluff #fem!reader #genshin angst #kazuha x reader #pregnant!reader #scaramouche x fem!reader #angst to fluff #stockhom syndrome

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ceasarslegion · 7 months ago

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wait, now im really interested in the silica gel drama. how did hlrp sex ed lead to eating a gel packet?

This is going to require a novel's length of context.

To begin, I want to underline that this is not meant to be a callout post, and I will not be providing any identifying traits that could be used to single this person out. The most you will get out of that are she/her pronouns, and her age at the time this happened, which was years ago, and I will not specify what year. I genuinely do hope she got the help she needed after this, because LORD knows she needs it and didn't find it at home. This is also not meant to be a character assassination, nor should anybody who reads this post consider it to be a takedown of any sort, and if you try to find this person through me or any of our mutual friends, you will not be met with kind words. The only thing this is meant to be is a wild-ass story of some of the most off the wall experiences I personally had with this person from my specific side of the story, with a few no-username screenshots attached to prove I am not bullshitting you.

With that in mind, let's get started. This is going to be very long, so I'm throwing in a read more

Back when I was in uni, I joined a growing group of Half Life roleplay blogs. The whole idea of our group was that we each chose a character, canon or OC, and we would blog as if the pre-Black Mesa incident moment in the timeline was a workplace comedy a la The Office or Superstore. I played Barney, because I was already working night shift security at this point and thought it would be funny. Plus, it gave me something to do that wasn't staring at CCTV feeds all night tossing a ball against the wall. We played off of each other very well, yes-anding our way through funny little situations and plotlines we put together. At one point we had roleplayed enough that one of the scientist rpers created a discord server for us to talk as the actual people we are instead of through characters.

Great idea at the time. None of us saw the "Pandora's box" label on the tin before we opened it. Would I still join it if I knew what was about to transpire? Yes, because I met my boyfriend and many genuinely lovely friends through it. Would I hesitate for a second first, though, as the events that are about to transpire flashed before my eyes? Oh, abso-fucking-lutely.

We started off as many fandom servers do: chill for the most part, very loud minority of a few assholes who ruined it for the rest of us, but unlike most fandom servers, we actually won and it ended in them getting banned and the server itself surviving to this day. But the other two lunatics are not who you came here for. You want the christian lunatic.

Let's give her a nickname to make this easier. I have the Sylveon build a bear on my PC desk. Let's call her Syl.

Syl was not there for Half Life, she was there for Portal. She LOVED Portal, Half Life was just part of the same universe for her. Portal wasn't just a game for her, it was her entire personality. Which I didn't see much of an issue with at the time, because she said she was 15. Whatever, I thought; she'll learn to control her emotional attachment to things as she gets older. Syl also said that she was christian. I am a flaming atheist who doesn't even believe in the concept of a soul in comparison and I am NOT the biggest fan of christianity as an institution to put it mildly, but I'm not gonna like, be a dick to you for your personal religion if you are not a dick about my beliefs, so I didn't think much of it at the time.

It quickly became apparent that Syl looked up to me more than any of the other adults in the group the more I would talk about my life growing up as a third culture kid and moving out on my own at 19, working 2 jobs and going to a good university. She would ask me a lot about growing up and uni and moving out and yes, sex ed, and it became even more apparent that she didn't get any actual guidance from her parents or pastors or ANYBODY beyond bible studies and homeschooling, so I kinda stumbled into a mentorship role in her life. I wasn't cold, but I was aware of the age and maturity difference between us and established the appropriate boundaries with her and made it very clear that I am an internet friend, not an irl friend or an educator, but if no one else was going to give her information that wasn't actively harmful then fuck, I guess SOMEONE had to do it. I could not in good conscience watch some kid go through life with harmful inaccuracies about the world and basic human biology when I could have done something about it, y'know?

And the more things I taught her about the real world and how things actually work rather than how her republican bible-thumping rural town said they did, the more I realized she was born into a full-blown cult under the guise of a christian congregation. Oh goody, I had my work cut out for me. I will not get into the details of how messed up this group was because it will be a dead giveaway of where she lives and potentially who she is, but let's just say that one time I said that I appreciated the gesture of praying for me during a stressful week I was having but it didn't really do anything for my mental health because I was an atheist, and she sent me a bunch of bible verses begging me to start believing and said "I just don't want you to go to hell because you're so nice :((" EXCUSE ME??? Another time she said that death was only sad for non-christians because their loved ones were in hell and that proper christians deaths were a good thing because they were in heaven now. Hi, that's the most insensitive death cult shit I've ever heard in my goddamn life.

Okay, set up is done. All of these details will tie in like the world's worst reboot of Pulp Fiction, I prommy.

After a good long while learning about the world from me (which like... a uni kid working night shift security is not exactly an academic source but we take what we can get) and exposure to viewpoints outside of her in-group, Syl began that very painful journey of realizing that what the cult taught you was a lie. Except that she just wasn't grasping that unlearning things was an active process. She started to flip to the opposite side very quickly, but kept all the fundamental brainwashing of the cult that raised her. The concepts were all the same, just slapped a different label on them. This created a noticeable pull between two sides of the same personality: the cult personality, and the person beyond the cult who wanted to break free. Mix that with how fucking 15 years old every 15 year old is, and you have a LETHAL concoction just waiting to blow up at the first sign of a spark.

Remember how I said that Portal was her whole personality? Syl decided that she wanted to be a scientist, and go into an ivy league program like I was in (I was in a SOCIAL science, but sure). Problem was, she didn't have the grades or the ambition, really. I had told her that I still got into an ivy league when I failed math in high school, and she seemed to completely miss the part where I said that I also joined every extra-curricular, then worked for 2 gap years for recognized institutions, and wrote an essay about why my math grade is not relevant to my program. I did it with one bad grade, so she was justified in basically just slacking off and then excusing it with "but its haaarrrdd" when we'd tell her she needs to put the fucking work in NOW if that's what she wants to do.

It quickly derailed from here. Not only was she going to be a scientist, she was going to be like Cave Johnson. And she was going to... replace her body with robot parts so she could be like glados. I don't... think she actually knew what science is, because she would just publically fantasize about running unethical experiments on people in the name of "science," and talk about how one day she wants to basically establish aperture labs for real. All of us who were there kind of agree that we don't think she was joking based on what we knew about her and the cadence of her tone. Here's something she said at the time to give you an idea of what direction she was nosediving in:

This was after a session with her therapist where said therapist said that she definitely has some kind of personality disorder, after which she was weirdly proud of having one and treated it like a badge of honour.

Syl then made a separate group chat for all the best friends she made on the server. There was her, me, @false-pyre, and @imtheaura. She titled it "My Family," despite the fact that we were all adults and she was 15 and she only knew us over a discord half life server where one person in it stepped up to somewhat equip her for real life outside of a cult. Regardless though that GC was more the vibe of a group of friends sharing memes and chatting about the day than the wider server was at the time. The others began to also take on a sort of mentorship role towards her as well, because that's kind of inevitable when you get someone talking about teenager problems in a room full of adults who all made the same mistakes before in their own lives. Well, minus the cult.

And remember how I said that she didn't unlearn any of the cult shit? Well, there was a lot of proselytizing. She decided she wasn't christian for a spell, but still wanted us and everyone to know that jesus was the lord and savior and we had to accept him or we'd burn in hell. Usually said after we'd make some joke about satan being daddy or declaring ourselves god instead, because that is just the type of humor the others and i have with each other. She took it so personally whenever one of us would go "oh my god" "you called?" it was fucking annoying. I lost count of the amount of lectures she gave us, all of which I'd shut down and tell her to get a grip about because I have a big stupid mouth.

The others and I also like to talk about evolution, and speculate about where we're going from here. My fucking god, did she not like that. She bit our heads off about how evolution isn't real and god made everyone as we are and there's no scientific evidence or whatever the hell. Like yeah good luck getting into STEM with that mindset. Whenever we pointed out that she was objectively wrong about that, she'd have a big stupid meltdown about how much we're slandering god and how jesus died for us and we're spitting in his face or whatever. He should spit in MY face inste-*GUNSHOT*

Eventually, we were making some actual progress with her. She was still one fry short of a happy meal and going off about how much she wanted to put living subjects in test tubes in between knocking on our doors and reciting Hello from the Book of Mormon musical, but we were getting somewhere. And then she went back to in person school, and her favourite teacher got fired.

The schoolboard did not say why she got fired, but we all had our suspicions that it was because she openly supported queer rights in a cult town. She was coincidentally retired shortly after making a declaration that queer people are still welcome in god's kingdom. This teacher was the first in person adult Syl had for guidance, so that incident shook her to her core, and she fell right back into the extremism. Hook, line, and sinker, even more extreme than before.

She was WEIRD that week, man. Suddenly everything was about how great god was, how amazing jesus was. Suddenly she understood why her cult member parents "just wanted to protect her" from gay characters on disney+ originals. Suddenly no one could say "jesus christ lol" around her or she'd have a fit. I said "I hate cycle counts lmao i wanna kms" because my then-job (I had graduated at this point) made me do inventory management spontaneously and wouldn't let me go home until I had counted every product in the store, and she bit my head off accusing me of turning suicide into a joke.

It was that incident that made us tell her to knock it off already, that we understood it was a hard week for her and she was in a period of grief, but that is no excuse for how she had been acting towards everyone around her that wasnt christian, and that she was actively relapsing. I'll let the exchange speak for itself:

So uh. After years of helping Syl through this she goes and pulls this bullshit. And then has the fucking AUDACITY to act like nothing ever happened in the wider server. I am genuinely gobsmacked by the balls on her to act like it was all sunshine and rainbows in the wider server after sending this and immediately leaving the same GC SHE made and titled "My Family" just because we told her to stop acting like a goddamn Jonestown citizen after all the work we'd put in to get her out of that mentality at this point.

So I dragged her up in front of everyone and essentially said "no, nuh uh, you don't get to say that shit to the people who have lost sleep and asked for nothing in return trying to help you escape a cult over the last 2 years and then act like we're all buddy buddy to everybody else. You don't get to be that arrogant and self-righteous without any consequences. I don't give a fuck how young you are, you DON'T treat the people who have helped you this much like that, you selfish little shit. How dare you treat us like this after all we've done for you over the years."

Unfortunately, no one involved had surviving screenshots of this, but they can back me up on it if they so choose. And oh boy, DID she face the consequences of her own actions. The whole server basically turned their heads and went "what the FUCK is wrong with you, Syl??" and asked her to at least like, apologize. She proceeded to double down with the added audacity of "you guys taught me how to establish healthy boundaries, that's all I'm doing right now :(( oh woe is me :(((" like WOW, okay. Someone's really going for the persecution complex.

Here's her last goodbye to us all before the mass block fest occured:

Oh, boohoo. You're so hard done by. You spat in the faces of everyone who stayed up all night multiple times helping you through crises and spent the last 2 years teaching you about how the world really worked and then they asked you to apologize after you tried to escape accountability. You truly are god's strongest soldier, the most persecuted minority in the world. Let me play you an ode to how righteous and holy you are and how this was the most important hill to sacrifice all your outsider friendships on on the world's smallest violin.

Syl then went on to post on her roleplay blog that she "was banned because I spoke up for what was right, and they didn't like that" before deleting it. Truly no one has suffered as much as you.

Anyway, the day after that went down, I called in from work, bought this book, and read the whole thing purely out of spite:

It was greatly therapeutic. After that incident, I vowed to never sanitize my own atheistic beliefs for the benefit of others again. If they don't like them, they don't have to talk to me. But I am not changing them for other people or keeping them quiet just to spare your feelings anymore, I have as much a right to my beliefs as anyone else does, including the world's most persecuted minority here.

And well, the silica gel incident?

There was one incident, during the height of Syl's "I am the irl cave johnson and only want to get into STEM to conduct unethical experiments on people. follow jesus" era, the rest of us were joking about how silica gel packets are the ultimate forbidden snack, and said "haha would eating it make you see shrimp colours" knowing full well it can kill you.

Syl proceeded to actually eat a silica gel packet and then send in "it has a sandy texture and tastes bad" prompting the rest of us to go "WE WERE FUCKING JOKING FIND YOUR POISON CONTROL HOTLINE RIGHT NOW"

And because i didnt get this done until now, I'll tag everyone who said they wanted to read this or expressed interest: @captainjonnitkessler @formydarlingtoread @cra-zwizard @chasingnightrainbows

#ramblings #what do i even tag this

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moonshynecybin · 11 months ago

Note

Marc not being with Vale in Austin is fine because Vale crashed anyway and it's been a week since Argentina and Vale is still processing what Marc said (and it's not like they picked each other 100% of the time when things were fineTM, so, anyway)

Marc not picking Vale in Sachsenring, though? After the moment they had in Barcelona? Definitely feels wrong and Vale burns with jealousy (which was Marc's plan all along) (Vale goes out that night and picks up someone and it's the least satisfying one night stand he's had in forever) (and he's fully the one to blame for it)

I think it also shows Vale that Marc is not as desperate as he might have thought (and let's face it, there was obviously something satisfying thinking he had the upper hand there) and it fucks him up a little too

context on this post!! go read it...

see in my brain im thinking marc is enough of an all-or-nothing dichotomous little guy that he DOES choose vale every time he can... idk how that would work out with the rules of podiums but i have been tortured by enough gifsets (wait a minute you made some of those. find them here friends) of his 21 year old self wallpapering his room with valentino merch (and his own merch like he WAS doodling mr marc marquez rossi <3 in all of his notebooks rip king) that i think the first time he chooses anybody else is post ARGENTINAAAAAA 2018. down horrendous. down catastrophic. down so bad we might have to send him to the medical center so they can declare him medically fit to ride anyways. and thats not as fun for jealousy stuff anyways bc by then vale has realllllllly entrenched some narratives in his brain and would simply repress that <3

so!!! this au hath been set in the 2016 season where marc is half agony half hope.... one word from you would silence me forever.... so marc is um. winning a lot, and choosing valentino every time like. please talk to me. and as youve said initially its like i have nothing to say to you!! you betrayed me!! and then as it goes on a gradual thawing and they are having like. intense tender fraught winners room sex the ENTIRE time like insane people. marc fully lowkey like once he unblocks me the wedding is back on... and then as youve said in catalunya vale picks marc and blows his back out and theyre both soooo kind of. tired. of pretending that they dont like this so i think there IS a moment where marc tells a dumb joke and vale laughs (SEX LAUGHERS TILL I DIE) and then his eyes get all soft and marc leans in and its a very sweet kiss and a very sweet moment and they both think. maybe..... marc's breath caught in his chest vale's thumb on his cheek....

but this is rosquez the GOATs of motorsport divorce (no one tell me the brocedes lore shhh) so i think vale makes an offhanded comment in front of marc about picking up or something. maybe talks to uccio and blocks marc's number after he tries to call him afterwards... SOMETHING happens that pisses marc off idk what. and the next time he wins in germany hes like fine. okay. i wont choose valentino he clearly doesnt want me to. so he chooses dovi and they dont fuck but they do let everyone THINK they fucked (dovi is lowkey sad about this. cal crutchlow known marc fucker and p2 this race is despondent that he didnt get chosen.) and vale feels LITERALLY INSANE... sitting at home thinking about marc with dovi... cant get it out of his head....

#me looking at this like how can i make this bronte sisters level toxic and somehow ignore 90% of the premise of the ask. SORRYYYYYYYYY ily #callie speaks #motogp #asks #rosquez #winners room au

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moonchildstyles · 1 year ago

Text

fic announcement and sneak peek!

hiiiii besties!!!

I said a while back when I announced columba that I would be coming back with another series for both Tumblr and patreon this summer and that time has come :)))))))))))

for the last four years Ive had this idea in my head for a super special h that ive just let build a home in my heart that kept growing and growing and growing! now ive finally had a chance to write it all out and make him real with a fun story and lots of little details to make him who he is!

I don't want to spoil too much about him just because I want there to be a little mystery for him and theres so many fun details that I think will be really fun to put together when you dont' know what he's up to!

so, starting on June 30th, Rosemary will begin being posted with a new part every friday here on Tumblr! Patreon will be getting early access with the first part being posted on June 16th, and every friday after! an extended sneak peek is also up on my patreon rn!

If you are interested in reading the new story, please wait until June 1st to sign up so you only get charged once at the beginning of the month and theres a full 30 days before the next charge!

you can also check out the Pinterest board I made for the fic!

let me know if you guys have any questions about anything! im sooooo excited and cannot wait for you all to read!

under the cut is a sneak peek :)

—————

"Thank you, Harry!"

The bow girl's chirping gratitude only had Harry looking at her stiffly with a grumbled Yeah falling from his lips. Just as she had done the last couple of months since she made herself a presence during his shifts, she only gave him a smile before bouncing away with her basket only containing a carton of banana milk and her favorite cookies. She was no longer perturbed by the standoffish responses he gave her. Harry couldn't decide if he liked that or not.

It was like this at least a couple of times a week. She never did a big shop, only stopping by at the later times to pick up individual ingredients for a dinner she had chatted to him about, or little snacks she couldn't seem to go a day without. During at least one of her trips, she found an excuse to talk to Harry; she asked him about his day if she was close enough to feel comfortable starting a question (Harry never gave her a good answer, honestly), she told him about her own day and what she was shopping for if there was anything specific she had in mind. She almost always had a bow pinned her hair, fluttering behind her and matching whatever soft piece of clothing she had cinched around her form. Harry had even began fishing out a pack of her favorite cookies from his boxes if he was stocking that aisle, just to make it easy if she came in and asked him for assistance. It made the interactions quicker and less bothersome—at least that's what he told himself.

He knew more about her and her routines than he had any of the hundreds of people he'd met in the last handful of years since he started moving around. Even if that did make him feel a bit guilty knowing that she didn't have a clue about who exactly she was sharing these parts of herself with; she didn't know the mess she was tiptoeing around every time she interacted with him.

Tonight was no different, her leaving a rattling in Harry's bones that he wanted nothing more than to ignore like every other part of his life. If he was superstitious, he would think she could have cast some kind of spell on him with the way she and her little bows lingered in his brain long after she had checked out and gone on her way home.

That rattling followed him as he made his way into the backroom, his empty box needing to be replaced. An exasperated sigh fought to leave his chest when he saw almost half of the overnight team huddled in the area, puttering about as they chattered and pretended to work. He didn't like being roped into their conversations, and that almost always happened when he ran into more than two of them at once.

Harry didn't say a word as he broke down the cardboard box on his cart, pushing it off to the pile of the other flattened boxes before he reached for another. The conversations had quieted some when he walked in, but he could still hear what sounded like Brett and Fawn flirting in the back corner with a cart of refrigerated items that needed to go on the opposite end of the store, and Theo talking to two of the other guys that Harry didn't bother to remember their names.

"Busy night, huh, Harry?" Theo started, dropping whatever topic he had been rambling his friends about just a moment before.

"Yeah," Harry answered, voice stiff. It wasn't any more busy than any other night as far as he was concerned. Besides, he had other things he needed to worry about to be making conversation with a coworker he barely knew. There was still a pearl colored ribbon tying his stomach in tiny knots that he needed to fix.

Soon enough, a silence fell through the backroom when the others made their way out. Only Harry and Theo were left, Harry doing his part to semi-organize his chosen box before heading out on the floor again.

Maybe it was the rattling in his bones, or the vision of a peach colored bow that he saw every time he blinked, but something in Harry felt a little reckless when he peeked over at Theo focusing on his own box.

"That girl," Harry rumbled, feeling odd in his skin as he spoke, "The one with the bows in her hair... She comes in a lot."

Theo looked taken aback for a moment, his eyes wide with furrowed brows as he looked in Harry's direction. He even glanced over his shoulder as if there was anyone else there for the conversation to be aimed at. Harry had to keep from scoffing, dropping his gaze back to his working hands.

Floundering over his words, Theo tried to catch up once he realized Harry was voluntarily talking. "Um, the one with bows in her hair?"

Harry hummed in response. "She's in a couple of times a week."

"Ohhh," Theo sounded, familiarity touching his tone, "You mean (Y/N)?"

Harry swallowed at the sound of her name. He'd never asked for it himself. "If that's her name, yeah."

From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Theo nodding his head some. "She comes in a lot, yeah. She's not good at keeping a list and always forgets stuff if she tries to do big shops, so she just comes in when she wants something or runs out."

Though he didn't want this information to mean something to him, Harry felt a part of himself slowing being fulfilled the more details he learned. She didn't tell him these kinds of things when she rambled about her dinner choice for the night.

Keeping his gaze tacked to his hands, Harry kept his words measured and calculated. "Oh," he started, "Is she from here?"

"She's lived here forever, yeah. Why?"

A beat passed as Harry opted to ignore the second part of Theo's response. He didn't need to have any details as to why Harry was asking after someone after working together for five months with only a handful of interactions. Even if he did want to share that, Harry didn't have any answers to that why, anyway.

"Does she... What does she do?" Harry asked, the phrasing of his words feeling awkward falling out of his mouth. He was lucky he was so used to shielding his emotions and staying stoic, otherwise he would have cringed where he stood.

"Like for work?" Theo asked, his eyes warm on Harry's profile.

Lifting his shoulders, Harry only shrugged in response. It was probably a good idea to keep his mouth shut.

"She—uh—she works at the bakery. She and my sister work there together," Theo told him, acting as if Harry was supposed to know what bakery he was talking about and who his sister was. "(Y/N)'s pretty nice, though."

"Right," was all Harry offered by the time he finished organizing his box. He didn't bother to give anything more in response or wait for Theo to say more before he was walking out on the floor again. Even when he could feel his eyes stuck to his back.

No doubt would this interaction make its way to the rest of the team before the end of the shift.

It was harmless curiosity, Harry argued. He just had to believe the harmless part.

—————

#other #mine.#harry #harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing

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