#But I also know it’s what they’d want to see

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[wickedscribbles]

whoever makes my baby cry (is gonna lose some teeth tonight) ch. 3

Masterlist

Ch. 1, Ch. 2

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: flirting, anxiety, insecurity, drunk background characters, canon-typical violence, communication issues, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff

Word Count: 4.4K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

In theory, it's been a good day.

At the very least, it’s a lot less terrifying than Logan had built it up in his mind to be. Wade never really let him in on what his plans were, so he’s just along for the ride as they travel across the sprawl of the city. Interestingly, he notices that Wade keeps their hands linked as they wait for the next bus – not an unpleasant experience by any means, but something they’ve never really done before. Though each of them often remains close enough to crawl inside the other when within the privacy of the apartment, PDA isn’t something they’ve ever really done.

For Logan, general proximity has always been enough. Knowing where Wade is, having his heartbeat and scent to go off of. An occasional brush of fingers isn’t unusual, a playful hip knock. Being more visible as a couple out in the public eye is new, and Logan wonders if it has anything to do with Wade’s insistence on going out looking…well. The way that he currently does.

His gut is telling him yes.

But Wade’s humming contentedly to himself as they’re squished into a seat, shoulder to shoulder. His mind can’t help repeating back to him how much going out like this seems to mean to Wade, and Wade has somehow come to mean a hell of a lot to him. So he keeps his mouth shut and explores the hand-in-hand situation, rubbing his thumb in small circles over the skin of Wade’s palm. Turns out, the man’s got a whole itinerary for the day. Which makes sense, considering it’s Wade. Logan can’t imagine him taking them out for lunch and then going right back to the apartment after all the fuss he’s already kicked up.

“So,” Wade starts, in a tone that Logan’s grown fond of. “I was thinking we’d start with lunch – I don’t know about you, but I worked up an appetite from this morning –”

Logan promptly elbows him in the ribs.

“Wade –”

There’s a pint sized kid in the aisle across, staring at them with curious blue eyes. Wade turns to see what he’s looking at, then shrugs.

“Okay, slow down, Mr. Pervert. You think I’m handing out details of my personal life for free? And to minors, no less? If they want that sort of information they can lie about their age, like the rest of us did when the internet was the wild west of all things freaky.”

He looks over at something Logan can’t see. “And like some of them still are. Don’t think I don’t fucking see you.”

“See what?”

“Nothing, kitty cat. Anyway,” Wade continues, excited.

Logan listens patiently as he’s given every last detail of what they’re going to do and where they’re going to go. Does it sound like a lot of interaction with the general populace he wouldn’t normally seek out? Yeah. But does it also seem like Wade put a ton of effort into making sure it’d be a combination of things they’d both enjoy? Also yes.

“Sounds nice,” Logan tells him when he’s through explaining, and Wade gives him a tentative smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He puts an arm around Wade’s shoulders, and it doesn’t take heightened senses to catch the obvious delight emanating from him at the new contact.

So they meander through the massive sprawl of the city, venturing to places Logan’s never had a reason to go. If he’s being honest with himself, his circles are pitifully small. He likes to stay within certain neighborhoods if he can help it, places he already knows, close to home. The only time he really strayed from that trend was when he was trying to figure out what home was. Once he has a routine, he likes to keep to it.

Wade tends to veer toward the opposite. He likes a little spontaneity – hell, impulse may as well be his middle name. Logan’s not surprised when they go off path from one part of the day to something unexpected that catches Wade’s attention. He’s known him long enough to just accept that that’ll happen sometimes, doesn’t mind it.

It’s actually nice to be somewhere he’s not used to. Logan didn’t realize that he’d been growing a little restless himself until given the opportunity to see something outside of the daily to and fro, as comforting as that had become. The cheerful spring weather holds as Wade takes him to walk through some of the biggest trees Logan’s ever seen in his life, and later still as they weave their way through a public market.

They’ve been walking all day by the time Wade points them in the direction of their final destination, but Logan doesn’t feel (that) overwhelmed or at all bored. It’s…it’s nice. Seeing more of the city was probably good for him.

Dusk brushes across the sky, tentative. They walk together down the sidewalk, sometimes dodging to the side for a passing crowd. There’s more going on here in terms of entertainment than where they’re living – probably why he’s never been out this way.

Logan can’t help but take an occasional glance at Wade. The makeup’s become smudged throughout the day, and it’s a relief to see the actual Wade beginning to poke through a bit.

“I’m still waiting for it,” Wade says, looking at Logan wryly.

That makes him nervous. “Waiting for what?”

“Waiting for you to say, ‘huh, jeez, Wade, guess living here doesn’t suck the absolute balls that I always say it does.’”

He rolls his eyes. “Those the exact words you think would come out of my mouth?”

Wade nods, his expression solemn. “Verbatim. You’ve picked up some very unbecoming slang from hanging around Al so much, I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“More like from hanging around you.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about!” Wade brings them to a stop. “The Logan that I dragged home would have just growled all sexy for the camera and stabbed me somewhere. He didn't banter like this.”

“Sooo…you’re saying you’re a bad influence.” He smirks.

They’re right outside the bar Wade wanted to poke his head into – some little hole in the wall joint Ellie, Laura, and Yukio won’t stop talking up called The Spork. Even from outside, Logan can hear and feel the pulse of the music. He can already tell that it’s going to be zero percent like the bars he’s frequented in the past. That’s probably for the best.

“Well, you did take off your chastity ring for me, didn’t you, sweetheart?” His voice dips lower on sweetheart, eyes roaming Logan’s chest through the strain of his shirt.

Fuck, he’s seriously starting to regret not taking Wade up on his offer this morning. They could have gone another round in under thirty minutes, right? (Wrong.) Logan can feel his cock stirring with interest, and though the street is growing dark now, it’s not something he wants to advertise.

“We goin’ in or not?” he mutters instead, fully aware that he’s lost the ability to quip back.

Sure, yeah, maybe he’s gotten better at keeping up, as Wade had said. But there’s no topping him when it comes to having a smart fucking mouth. He’s half-convinced Wade could just talk him to orgasm – and he wonders if it’s something they’ll ever try.

Wade chuckles a little at him.

“Don’t have to,” he says. “I know those dad shoes have seen more traction in the past eight hours than they’ve probably gotten in the last six months, so if you want to head home, we’ll head home.”

Again with this shit! Between him and Laura he’s never going to get away with any choice of footwear without getting roasted like he’s standing on the fucking sun.

“They’re literally just –”

“White New Balance, baby, I know.” Wade’s still grinning a little. “After you.”

He holds the door, and it only takes seconds for the two of them to become engulfed in sound. The bar is crowded with people he’d guess are probably around Laura’s age, a flurry of bright hair colors and crop tops, makeup on every kind of face. Queer couples whisper and laugh with each other, nursing drinks. Groups of friends pose for pictures. Lights dance from the ceiling, and the speakers are blasting a voice he’s become all too familiar with as Laura’s started turning the album on every time she’s in his car.

You know what they say – never waste a Friday night on a first date.

But there I was, in my heels with my hair straight, Logan finishes in his head, led by Wade to the bar by their connected hands.

“Be right back,” Wade says near his ear, careful not to yell. “You getting anything?”

Logan shakes his head. “Not if we’re just in and out.”

“Gotcha.”

He watches as Wade melts away into the crowd, side-stepping and inching through far more gracefully than Logan could until he slips into the restroom.

It’s easy to see why The Girls – as Ellie, Yukio, and Laura have come to be known in his mind – like it here. Inclusivity comes easier in cities, he knows that. But it’s still not perfect. Even harder when you have supernatural abilities you never asked for on top of it all.

Logan wonders if there are any more mutants in the crowd tonight.

Wade is taking a very long time. Shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, Logan glances back to where he’d last seen him. Is he being too paranoid? Should he just wait and give it another minute? Fuck. He wished his brain wouldn’t turn everything into a disaster. It occurs to him that the bar is getting louder and louder and he can smell so much sweat and cigarette smoke and weed in here.

No, actually, fuck it, he’s going. There’s no harm in just walking in and seeing if he’s alright.

Anxiety spiral! Jess says cheerfully in the back of his head. He ignores her.

With one hand placed on the bathroom door, he’s just in time to almost fully collide with the man he’s looking for.

“Shit,” they say at the same time, getting out of one another’s way.

“No, it’s fine,” Logan says first, squinting as a flash of light from the overhead rig shines in his face. “You okay, bub?”

Sometimes eating genuinely does make Wade sick. Logan doesn’t know if it’s the cancer or a side effect of how his regenerative ability works for him, but there are days when food just doesn’t do it for him. Usually they can both tell when that’s going to happen, though. They’ll hole up in the apartment, turn on some good movies, and just be together while Logan rubs Wade’s back all day. He’s happy to do it for him; he’s prepared to take him straight home and do it now.

But Wade doesn’t smell sick.

When Logan blinks the last of the light away, he’s left looking at Wade, who is definitely not looking at him. In fact, he’s staring at his shoes, looking like he wants to crawl through the floor.

His face is clean, all the carefully applied makeup scrubbed away.

Logan opens his mouth to say something like okay, I’m glad you took that off, I like your actual face, but Wade beats him to the punch.

“Sorry,” Wade says softly. “It was getting all smudged, and…sorry.”

Tears gather hot and burning in the back of Logan’s throat. Out of nowhere, he’s furious, fucking outraged that Wade could feel this way about himself when it’s so clearly untrue. It’s the kind of emotion that he’s not sure he can shove down or redirect this time. Part of him knows that if Wade sees the look on his face, he’s going to read it the wrong way. And he needs to get out of this bar, right now.

He's like a string pulled too tight. Even the pressure of a breath could make him snap.

“Can we please leave.”

That’s all he can make himself say, the words coming out all taut and emotionless. It makes him feel like shit, but that’s all he can manage to get out.

Wade nods, and Logan offers his hand once more. A meager consolation prize compared to what he actually wants to tell him. Logan hates how lacking his brain-to-mouth output is. Whatever he ends up saying always sounds so inarticulate. Right now he’s staring at Wade’s profile in the gentle pulsing of the colored lights, thinking a million things. All of them thrum within him harder than his own heartbeat.

I love you.

You’re beautiful.

I hate that you thought you had to change for me.

I would kill for you.

I would live for you.

Ten feet until they’re outside – he can do that. Then he can fix this.

Logan’s eyes are fixed on the door, on the cool air drafting in as it opens and closes, when he’s shoved hard from the right.

“My bad,” says a voice at once. “Shit, my bad man, my bad.”

Logan grits his teeth so tight he feels one of them crack. He swallows the loose piece.

“Don’t worry about it.” Shut the fuck up and let me leave.

The man who bumped into him is so obviously wasted that he might as well be wearing a flashing neon sign. He sways a little on his feet, supported only by the sweet-looking woman he keeps bumping back into, as if she's the only thing keeping him upright. Brawny and dressed like he's just walked straight from his fraternity house, he squints at Logan and Wade like he's seeing double. Shit, maybe triple, at this point.

“Jake, maybe you need to sit down,” the woman says to him softly.

Her face is flushed, more from embarrassment than alcohol. She's staring up at the guy, one small hand on his arm, but Jake is looking at the two of them like he's never seen gays over thirty before. Hell, like he’s never seen a queer in general, which is astounding, considering the bar he’s currently standing in.

Logan can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It’s a rare occasion when someone who’s looked at him like that didn’t end up pissing him off, and he’s already one step away from wanting a good excuse to tear into someone. Anyone.

“C'mon, just sit down with us, I'll get you some water.”

The guy isn't interested. He's too busy looking at Wade now, and Logan can see the thought forming on his face before he dares to speak it.

“Jesus, man, you're kinda ugly, did you know that?”

To Wade's credit, he says fucking excuse me? at the same time Logan's fingers close around the asshole’s throat.

For someone who'd been wobbling around only seconds before, Jake tries to pry them off with surprising accuracy. It only makes him squeeze tighter, watching with brutal satisfaction as his face turns darker shades of red.

That’s better. This, he can understand. For Logan, actions are almost always easier than words, especially when tinted with violence. Especially if he’s needed it for weeks now.

In his periphery, he can tell that several things are going on. The college girl is touching his elbow, asking him to stop, something like I’m so sorry please let him go I know he’s had way too much. Wade is standing back a ways, hands in his pockets, grinning more broadly than Logan’s seen all day. A small crowd is starting to gather.

Their faces are only inches apart. He knows he should walk away, just take Wade and go home.

Somewhere behind him, Wade is having the time of his life calling this frat boy a piece of shit. Logan can’t even keep up with half of what’s coming out of his mouth, but he hears something about getting his haircut off of a middle schooler’s Tiktok FYP but having his dad’s mental health issues, and those both seem like pretty deep cuts. He doesn’t fail to mention, of course, that Logan’s about to turn him into the wet food that they make for cats.

“C’mon, fuckface,” Jake wheezes, trying and failing once more to loosen his grip. “You mad your boyfriend ain’t pretty or–”

That’s all it takes. Logan curls his free hand into a fist and punches the other man so hard his nose breaks with a tidy snap. Blood pours out of him like a busted faucet as he punches him twice, three times, and in seconds he’s howling and pleading for him to stop – he didn’t mean it, he promises he didn’t mean it.

If it were up to Logan, he’d stay there and beat him until the fucking punk was barely capable of stringing a sentence together, then make him say thank you for letting him live. As the situation stands, however, several people are definitely calling the police – and that’s not something Logan has the patience for.

“Hey, Testosterone Tommy, we gotta go,” Wade calls, reading his mind.

Without another word, Logan turns his back to the mess he’s made, and they make short work of disappearing into the street.

By the time they’ve ducked through enough alleys and carved a confusing enough path that they don’t think they’re in danger of being pursued, Wade lets out a breath.

“Thanks for uh, defending my honor back there, peanut.”

Logan shrugs, still tense from the weight of the conversation he knows they need to have.

“It was nothin’. He needed to shut the fuck up. I was happy to provide the service.” He looks over at Wade in the soft light of a street lamp, who chuckles a little at that. “And I knew you woulda hit him yourself if I didn’t get there first,” he adds.

Wade's answering silence makes him wonder if he would have just taken the insult and kept walking, or turned it into a joke even if it made him feel like shit.

When they arrive back at the apartment, Laura opens the door, a wriggling Puppins in her arms, and scrunches her nose at the sight of Logan.

“Thought it was a date, the hell?” she says. “You’ve got blood on you.”

“Don’t all your dates end in bloodshed?” Wade says, shrugging. He turns to let the dog inspect his face with her mouth, which she does with excruciating enthusiasm. “Hi Puppins! Hi baby!! Did you miss us? You did! Anyway, we can’t go to your bar anymore.”

Laura doesn’t look that surprised. “What did you do?”

“Logan tried to kill a guy ‘cause he called me ugly.”

“I did not try to kill him,” Logan growls, passing Laura her phone as she goes to collect her things. “I just shook him up a little.”

“In a very heroic, brash, and manly way,” Wade sings, putting an arm around his waist. “The other guy really did gush, Laura, you would’ve loved it.”

She only shakes her head and sighs. “If you say so. I gotta get home, I work at six tomorrow.”

“Thanks for dogsitting! And catsitting, too, I guess.”

“Haha, I didn’t even see him.”

Logan walks her to the door while Wade wanders deeper into the bedroom. Every time Wade tells him stories about the Other Logan, and this Laura, he tries to imagine if he can feel that connection. It’s not the same as what he feels for her now – not as massive and deep as that love had to have been – but he still cares for her. He wants to see her do well. Growing up the way she had wasn’t easy, he knows that much. And she’s a good kid. Logan knows she’s trying to do her best – even if she sometimes gets into scraps of her own.

“Thanks, kid,” Logan says as they hover in the doorway. “Have a good shift, yeah? Try to behave yourself.” From the stories he’s heard from her working as a lead at a grocery store, people aren’t always the kindest.

“Could say the same to you,” she fires back, smiling before she turns down the hallway.

He watches until she’s gone before shutting their door and locking it. When he turns, Bonnet is staring at him from the little nook under the far left kitchen cabinet, his favorite place to hide.

“Hey, buddy,” Logan calls softly, bending down. Bonnet comes to him at once, tail lifted. “What'd you do today, huh?”

The massive tabby answers him with a quiet mrow, butting his head against Logan's hand. They stay like that for a moment, each of them comforted by the other.

When Logan makes his way to the bedroom, he finds Wade already in pajamas, scrolling on his phone. Wade glances up at him with a soft smile, watching him unbutton his shirt and toss it into the hamper.

“So…overall, was it an okay day?” he asks as Logan shuffles into bed beside him in only his boxers, landing with a heavy sigh. “Worth repeating, sans the whole dramatic knockout bit towards the end?”

His hand is already carding through Logan’s hair. Wade shuffles closer to let Logan sling a leg over his hip the way he wants to, recharging after a long day of being on the go.

“‘Course,” Logan mutters. The gentle way Wade’s touching him makes his whole body go limp and relaxed almost at once. He didn’t realize how much the day had weighed on him until he felt that weight lifting. “‘Course I’d go out with you again. Didn’t really know it was that important or we coulda – coulda gone a lot sooner.”

He feels Wade shrug. “Well, it took me a minute to learn how to get all the stuff right, otherwise I might have –”

Logan sits straight up in a way that makes the bed jolt. He looks Wade right in the eye, taking in the surprise, taking in every inch of his face, aching that Wade doesn’t think he’s good enough to go out without slathering shit on.

“Wade. For once in your life, shut the fuck up and let me say something. Please.”

“Yeah, okay. You’re kind of leaving me no choice, but okay.”

Huffing out a frustrated breath, Logan pauses to think. Everything he’s itching to say will come out angry, or make him want to cry. He doesn’t want either of those options to happen – he wishes he could just fucking say hard things without it being like this. Like his heart’s going to explode out of his chest.

“Fuck,” he says, dragging his hands across his face. “Fuck, Wade.”

“What?” He feels a hand on the side of his neck, feels Wade’s heartbeat pick up. Nervous. “Peanut, what’s the matter?”

“I didn’t want – I didn’t ask you – it wasn’t – you’re not – fuck.”

He can’t breathe. Wade notices.

“Just take a minute. I’m not going anywhere.”

Feeling very small and stupid and embarrassed the entire time, Logan closes his eyes and does as Wade asks. Forcing himself to breathe in and out until his chest doesn’t feel like it’s caved in on itself. Hating that this is so fucking hard. Other people don’t have to do this. Why is he like this?

Finally, he finds his voice again.

“Wish you didn’t go out looking like that,” he admits at last. “You didn’t need to do that for me. I didn’t want it, Wade. Wanted you.”

Logan peers up at Wade, who has a small, bitter sort of smile on his face. It’s probably one of the farthest things he’s seen from his genuine grin in some time.

“As the Irish forest man himself would say, you’re too sweet for me,” he says. “But you’re used to me, bud. You don’t get it.”

Exasperation roars like fire in Logan’s mind. “What the hell don’t I get? Wade. I’ve been lookin’ at you for a year now. I like it. Haven’t I made that clear enough?”

There are fucking tears in Wade’s eyes, though he blinks them back fast, and Logan’s own throat burns in instant empathy.

“I said, you don’t get it,” he says again. “You didn’t know me before. You didn’t see what I looked like then. And if you had, you sure as fuck wouldn’t be sticking around now.”

They’re both bolt upright in the bed now, tense, facing each other. Logan can’t tell whether he’s more angry or hurt that Wade would still cling so tightly to thinking about himself like this, but whatever held him back from speaking before is long gone now. It’s time to be mad.

“News flash, jackass,” he barks. “I did see you. And yeah, maybe you were cute, but you weren’t all that. So pull yourself out of this fuckin’ –” he throws his hands up “-- hole of self pity. I love you the way you are right now, not some fake version you feel like you have to slap on.”

Wade stares at him.

He can only hold the tough act for a half second before he wonders if he’s gone too far. Because getting Wade Wilson speechless? That is a rarity, and a cause for concern.

“Sorry,” Logan says lamely, after another long beat. “If that was too much, then sorry, I just don’t want you to think you’re not good enough to –”

“You mean it?” Wade says, his voice small. “The – the love thing.”

Oh. Oh shit. He’d fully said that.

“Yeah,” Logan answers, laughing a little. “Yeah, I do.”

And fuck, he does. There’s no use pretending it’s not true anymore. He loves the stupid little songs he sings in the morning and the way he hums when he’s sleepy and how much he loves the dog. He loves how much he cares about the people in his life. He loves how fucking smart he is and how he can crack a joke with absolutely no effort. He loves his weird taste in music and how he looks in his clothes.

He loves.

He loves.

He loves.

“I really do,” Logan tells him, cupping Wade’s cheek, pulling him in to kiss him. The way Wade kisses him back is so soft, and he’s laughing too, a breathless little sound against Logan’s mouth. He climbs into his lap and wraps his arms tight around him, and they stay like that for a long time, rocking back and forth, close, warm.

“Sorry it took so long,” Logan tells him after a while. The fact that Wade had said it first, and so much earlier, still fills him with guilt.

“S’okay,” Wade answers. “It was worth it.” He places more kisses to Logan’s forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks. “So…can I fuck you to celebrate this little revelation? Like, a lot?”

“Yeah, please.”

[vegafan69]

things i really want erik to explore for each redacted character

☆ vega :: him pulling a gavin 2.0. as in - warden’s asleep. and vega confesses how he feels in their mind. more physical interactions as well

☆ david :: shifting. MORE SHIFTING. CUDDLE AND SHIFT. PLEASE. SCRITCHES AND SCRATCHES.

☆ milo :: fashion shopping. i want to know what exactly milo would be shopping for. and how he’d dress his mate.

☆ vincent :: his family. his life before the surge. how he used to have fun with friends, the games he enjoyed, his favorite food, places he used to go, his dreams and ambitions… + heart to heart convo with porter. i feel like they’d actually get along if they were willing to listen to one another

☆ sam :: interactions with other characters besides the clan and shaw pack

☆ porter :: soft and cheesy moments, just drunkenly in love with treasure. also life before turning too. i will always grip onto my lawyer!porter headcanon

☆ huxley :: breaking up with damien so i can have him

☆ damien :: breaking up with huxley so i can have hux

☆ lasko :: dying

☆ gavin :: his relationship with other daemons

☆ vega :: kissing me

☆ aaron :: cooking with him and spending more time. smartass telling aaron how he means to them, and aaron being more affectionate. also him spoiling them

☆ ivan :: his past with baby (before vega)

☆ elliott :: BIKER ELLIOTT BIKER ELLIOTT IDCCCC

☆ ollie :: venting to baby. like. i wanna hear about the man’s struggles. his insecurities? his past?

☆ guy :: idk

☆ brachium :: how his heart aches everytime he sees a young soul crossing the river

☆ avior :: idk

☆ vega :: kissing me okay i’m like out of ideas idk

@breezysuffers @dukecollinsbf @marlowlvsu @ashertickler @porters-fangs @capitalisticveins @ilovealotofwomen @achios @mokozroach @lexdoesntdraw @jaxfart @honeymarune @infinitelovewiithoutfulfilmentt @everything-redacted00 @n0r @professionallyyappinabtangst @poedays and anyone idk

[mechaknight-98]

Outrage II (NSFW) FT Nayoung

Operator's Notes: Now back with more x-men lore and gratuitous nudity

The hectic sound stage made finding where to go for the girl group Lightsum difficult. Thankfully their manager was there to guide them. She led them to their markers and where they were to stand when performing and gave clear directions as they waited. After this last show, they’d be free to explore California to their heart’s content. For Nayoung this meant seeing her best friend Davy Jones also known by his stage name Kraken. As the music played Lightsum crafted an excellent and explosive performance of their newest song. After the performance, they sat across couches from the talk show host.

“Well, Lightsum that was a Pretty great performance. (The audience claps while the talk show host gesticulates to encourage more) you guys are so talented. Can I ask what drives you?”

The interviewer shifted her attention to Chowon. “Chowon, what drives you?”

Chowon smiled confidently, leaning into the question with the poise of a leader. "Honestly, I think it’s the desire to keep improving. Whether it's dancing, singing, or just connecting with our fans, there's always room to grow. That pushes me every day. We’re constantly evolving, and I love being a part of that process."

The host nodded thoughtfully. "That's a great perspective, always reaching for more."

Next, she turned to Sangah. "And what about you, Sangah?"

Sangah, known for her strong stage presence, gave a warm smile. "For me, it's my family. They've always been my biggest supporters, so I do everything I can to make them proud. My younger sister especially—she’s like my biggest fan. So I just want to give back to them in any way I can."

The audience let out a collective "aww" as Sangah’s sincerity resonated with them.

"And Hina?" the host asked, directing her attention to the youngest member.

Hina beamed with her usual youthful energy. "I just love being able to perform! When I see people dancing along with us or singing our songs, it feels like we’re all sharing this huge, exciting moment together. That’s what keeps me going—it’s like we’re all connected through the music."

The host smiled at Hina’s infectious enthusiasm. "It sounds like the whole group has such a strong connection to your fans and each other."

Nayoung, sitting beside them, listened as her members gave their answers before offering her own thoughts on being enamored with performing. The interviewer noticed that Nayoung’s answer stuck out the most, however. She cited a love of performing and being enamored by it.

“Oh enamored with performing huh?” The host said Smiling. Nayoung nods as she shifts in her chair.

"Speaking of Enamored, it seems like you have the eye of another performer, and fellow mutant right?"

Nayoung blushed and said, "Oh Kraken is just a friend but also a good musical partner. Our flows work really well together." Nayoung explained.

The interviewer smirked and said, "Right? Well, then I hope you two do many collaborations in the future because the chemistry between you two is electric in any genre."

After the interview Nayoung and the rest of the group head back to their hotel. They move through really quickly as they all get into their rooms, and when she’s showered and done she texts “I’m done” to Kraken” She is happy when she hears the knock on the door. She opens it to see her boyfriend the unclean vocalist for The Flying Dutchman Davy Jones, but also known for his side project Kraken, which most of the world knows him as. Nayoung holds him tight before giving him a myriad of kisses all over his face covering him in her lipstick. Nayoung smiles and says, "I missed you,"

Kraken smiles and says, "Well I am here for you, and the weekend is ours."

Nayoung smiles and says, "I am going to have so much fun with you this weekend,"

Kraken smiled and said, "I look forward to it.

Kraken teleported Nayoung with him to the studio where his friends were. It was her last off weekend before their next comeback and she wanted to spend it with Kraken whom she hadn't seen in almost a month. However JD and the rest of "The Flying Dutchman" were back in the studio, working on more songs for their new album. After Fans heard the single with her and became ravenous for more. So JD started writing Sledgehammer. Their heaviest song yet.

JD's bandmates were surprised to see JD with a woman. They thought their friend had taken a vow of celibacy a long time ago, but here they were meeting his new "Friend"

"So what is she doing here?" Douglas the "nonchallant" member asked.

"She wanted to hang out and likes our music so this seemed like a good idea to show her the new stuff we were working on."

"Are you sure about this?" Jojo the more cautious friend asked.

Nayoung opened her jacket to show her "The Flying Dutchman T-shirt and everyone relaxed as she sat on the producer's side.

Nayoung sat in the cozy, dimly lit recording studio, watching as the band members of The Flying Dutchman adjusted their instruments and fine-tuned their equipment. Kraken had invited her to join them for the session, and she was thrilled to witness the creative process firsthand.

As Kraken excused himself for a quick break, Jojo, the band's drummer, approached Nayoung with a friendly smile. He was stout, with a very brotherly demeanor that belied his intense focus when he played.

"Hey, Nayoung, right?" Jojo asked, taking a seat next to her.

"Yeah, that's me," she replied, smiling warmly.

Jojo leaned back in his chair, glancing toward the door to make sure Kraken was out of earshot. "So, Kraken’s been talking a lot about you lately."

Nayoung felt a blush creep up her cheeks. "Really? I hope it’s all good things."

Jojo chuckled. "Mostly. But seriously, we’re all pretty protective of him, you know?"

Nayoung nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I get it. He's a great guy, and I’d never want to hurt him."

"That's good to hear," Jojo said, his tone still light but with an edge of seriousness. "Kraken’s been through a lot with the band and all the pressures that come with it. He’s like a brother to us, and we just want to make sure he's happy."

"I really care about him," Nayoung said earnestly. "I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up."

Jojo studied her for a moment, then nodded, seemingly satisfied with her sincerity. "I believe you. Just know that if you ever need anything or if something’s bothering you about the whole band thing, you can talk to me or any of us."

"Thanks, Jojo. I appreciate that," Nayoung replied, grateful for the support.

As Kraken returned to the studio, oblivious to the conversation that had just taken place, Jojo gave Nayoung a reassuring pat on the shoulder and stood up.

"All right, let’s get back to it!" Jojo announced, picking up his drumsticks and heading back to his kit.

Kraken smiled at Nayoung as he sat down beside her. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything’s great," Nayoung said, feeling elated.

When everything was set up Jojo started with some heavy percussions. Followed up by AJ's haunting baseline. To compliment Noah and Dougla's powerful riff lines on keys and guitar. The AJ started singing about Massive machines mashing municipalities. Nayoung watched happily. They worked so well together and then she noticed JD had taken his Psionic barriers down. And the edges of the room began to fray ever so slightly. Her eyes went wide as she hadn't really seen the visual effects of his powers but noticed that reality began to unravel at the seams.

She watched intrigue. Tentacles began to grow from the walls as his power superimposed itself on reality. The room seemed to take on an almost misty appearance like they were truly aboard a ghost pirate ship. Nayoung smiled seeing Kraken so at ease, and in his element.

"Controll the Mob, Master the tides. Control the people's covered eyes. Destroy identity and replace it with malady. Crush dissidents like a sledgehammer. Broken bones and dreams left to die."

JD screamed and Nayoung watched in awe as his voice tore through the slowly distorted reality. It created this super interesting effect on his voice that made it sound almost filtered. Nayoung listened to the rest and after finishing JD put his barriers back up and turned to see Nayoung rocking out and headbanging her hair whipping in the producer section.

"How was that Nayo?" JD asked taking Nayoung out of her trance.

"Oh, that was so good. I loved the breakdown where you held the Hammer growl for 15 seconds, and you guys (Pointing to the rest of the bandmates) killed it." Nayoung said happy. The rest of "The Flying Dutchman laughed and all started packing up. When they finished they all walked over to the other side and began listening to the runthrough. Nayoung sat in the back jamming as they mixed and mastered the song before she realized that one of the drum sections had a similar bounce to it like Honey or Spice. She turned to JD who was focused then smiled.

After they finished this song a couple of hours later Nayoung and Kraken were off in his car. As they drove Nayoung opened the window and had her hand wave outside of it when an idea popped into her head.

“We should go to Krakoa?” Nayoung says happily

“Um, why?” Kraken asked

Nayoung smiled, “Well You’ve never been and I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

"I don't think that's a good idea," Kraken said and Nayoung noticed his psionic barriers were back up. Nayoung smiled and said,

"Worried? That's so unlike you." she chided Kraken.

Kraken raised an eyebrow and then said, "Um well the issue is my dad was quite vocal against the leadership of Krakoa. So the moment they hear my name there may be an issue...or several."

Nayoung looked at Kraken worried, "Well do you believe what your dad said?"

"Some of it yes, and some of it no. He believed that having a super sapient continent that allowed mutants to be gods was a bad idea, which I disagree with. He also believed mutants were safe with regular humans, and seeing what happened with him and various hate groups over the years I disagree, but at the same time quite a few of the people who are in positions of power aren't good people."

Nayoung's eyes widened and asked, "Who?"

" Beast is a xenophobic racist trying to put a wall around Krakoa... Well, it's a psionic barrier that hurts mutants but you get the idea."

"Oh I remember that, but he did say it was hypothetical." Nayoung countered.

"He also made mention of chipping, tracking, and cataloging mutants," Kraken adds.

"Yeah, that was a crazy thing to say." Nayoung agreed

"Also this is discounting what dude said about mutants who stayed with humans as being house n-words," JD answers.

"Yeah Spike was a bit angry then but he's calmed down. On second thought you may be right because they have been in a weird spot these last few years"

"you know what" Let's go. Kraken said

Nayoung looked at Kraken shocked and to ease her worries he said,

"Well you know if I live in fear my whole life then nothing will change, so I might as well try to live outside of that fear."

Nayoung smiled proudly at Kraken, "Okay Let's get you packed."

After getting packed for the weekend trip Nayoung used her mutant's band to transport them to the mutant nation. She arrived in her family's other home. She smiled as she led Kraken to the room they'd be sharing. Kraken was surprised by the massive size of the whole house.

"Wow is your family like rich here?" Kraken asked.

Nayoung shook her head, "No just early adopters. My dad and mom took a chance and were rewarded greatly. It might not seem like it but we are a pretty big deal here."

Kraken nodded as he responded, "Okay that makes sense."

"So you ready to go out and see the country?" Nayoung asked Kraken

Kraken nodded as Nayoung led him outside. As she walked out she shed her "human form" and took on her fiery Psychic form. Kraken smiles as he looks at her, and lets his barriers psionic barriers down.

As Nayoung and Kraken stepped out of the house, the warm breeze of Krakoa greeted them. The sky was an impossibly vibrant blue, the sun casting a golden hue over the lush, sprawling landscape. Everything felt alive here—the trees seemed to hum, the ground pulsed with quiet energy, and the air itself felt rich with possibility. This was a place where mutants thrived, and Nayoung seemed to be in her element.

Nayoung let out a content sigh as she shifted into her fiery psychic form, her energy radiating in soft waves that shimmered around her. She glanced at Kraken, her eyes playful and bright. “Ready for the full Krakoa experience?” she asked, her voice teasing but full of excitement.

Kraken chuckled, finally letting down his psionic barriers. He felt a lightness as the psychic weight he constantly carried dissipated. “Lead the way,” he said, feeling more at ease than he had expected. There was something about being with Nayoung, in this place, that made everything feel...right.

They wandered through the lively streets of Krakoa, where other mutants greeted Nayoung with warm smiles and friendly waves. She was clearly well-known and liked here, and Kraken couldn’t help but admire the way she fit so effortlessly into this world. As they walked, she pointed out some of the landmarks, explaining bits of history and culture.

“That’s the Arbor Magna,” she said, nodding toward a massive tree that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky. “It’s where the resurrection protocols happen. If a mutant dies, this is where they’re reborn.”

Kraken raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Reborn? Like...completely?”

“Yep,” Nayoung replied, her fiery form flickering slightly as she spoke. “Their memories, their essence—it all comes back. It’s kind of beautiful in a way, knowing that death isn’t the end here.”

Kraken thought about it for a moment. “It’s...different,” he admitted. “But I guess it’s comforting, too. Knowing you can come back.”

Nayoung smiled, nudging him playfully with her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you die while we’re here. I plan on keeping you around for a while.”

Kraken smirked, glancing down at her. “Oh, is that so?”

She looked up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Of course. I still have a lot of things I want to do with you.”

As they continued walking, they found themselves by the beach. The sand was soft beneath their feet, and the water was a sparkling turquoise, inviting and serene. Nayoung kicked off her shoes, laughing as she ran toward the shoreline. She looked back at Kraken, her fiery form now glowing more brightly in the sunlight. “Come on!” she called out, her laughter infectious.

Kraken shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he followed her. The cool water lapped at their feet, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. He wrapped his arm around Nayoung’s waist, pulling her close. “This place is amazing,” he said quietly.

Nayoung leaned her head against his shoulder, her fiery aura softly blending with his energy. “It is. I’m glad you came with me.”

They stood there in silence for a while, just enjoying the moment, the calmness of the waves, and the warmth of each other’s presence. Finally, Kraken spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. “You know, I wasn’t sure about this whole trip. Krakoa...it’s not exactly what I expected.”

Nayoung looked up at him, curious. “What did you expect?”

Kraken shrugged. “Something more...chaotic, I guess. With everything I’ve heard about the politics here, I thought it would feel oppressive. But it’s...different. It feels free.”

Nayoung smiled softly, reaching up to brush a strand of his hair from his face. “That’s what Krakoa is supposed to be—a home, a safe place for all mutants. Sure, there are problems, but every place has its issues. What matters is that we have each other.”

Kraken stared into her eyes for a long moment before leaning down to kiss her gently. The kiss was soft, sweet, and filled with all the unspoken words between them. When they finally pulled apart, Nayoung’s smile widened, and she playfully tugged him toward the water.

“Let’s go for a swim,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Kraken laughed. “You know I’m not really a swimming kind of guy.”

“Come on,” Nayoung urged, her hand slipping into his. “It’s Krakoa. Live a little!”

With a resigned sigh and a grin, Kraken followed her into the water, their laughter echoing across the shoreline. As they splashed and played, it was as if the weight of the world melted away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in each other’s light and warmth.

For the first time in a long time, Kraken felt completely free. And he realized, as he watched Nayoung float effortlessly beside him, her fiery aura casting a soft glow over the water, that maybe this place wasn't so bad after all.

As the day wound down Nayoung took Kraken to the last spot he "needed" to see the memorial of the fallen. As Nayoung and Kraken stood by the memorial of the fallen, the atmosphere was somber. The names of long-dead mutants etched into the stone served as a heavy reminder of the sacrifices made to build Krakoa, a place where mutants could be safe—at least in theory. The two of them stood silently, side by side, paying their respects to those who had fought and died for their people.

“I know I should probably say something deep here, but—” Kraken began, only to stop mid-sentence as his body tensed. Nayoung turned confusion and worry spreading across her face.

A pale hand erupted from Kraken’s chest, and blood pooled in his mouth. Nayoung’s heart raced as she watched, horrified, while a familiar, ghastly figure burst forth from Kraken’s body. Cassandra Nova. The pale figure smiled coldly, discarding Kraken’s body like an old shell.

"Ah, well, you were a good vehicle, Dai, but you’ve served your purpose,” Cassandra said casually, as though Kraken’s life had been nothing more than a tool for her rebirth. She extended her hands toward the graves. “Now, for revenge.”

Nayoung could do nothing but watch as Cassandra’s powers stirred the corpses buried beneath the memorial. The ground began to shift, and slowly, the long-dead mutants began to rise from their resting places, their bodies twisted and shrouded in shadowy forms.

Kraken’s vision dimmed, his consciousness slipping as Cassandra’s influence overpowered him. It was like fading into a dream he couldn’t wake up from. Everything became surreal—until a voice cut through the dark haze.

"Wow, that was horrible," the voice said, vibrant and full of energy.

“Huh?” Kraken replied, utterly confused.

“Well, long story short, Cassandra Nova used your mind as a Psionic safety deposit box to revive herself when she had enough energy. Unfortunately, killing you was kind of the last step in her plan. But good news! You’re not dead. At least, not fully. I can revive you, but there’s going to be some... changes.”

The voice explained that Cassandra had altered his X-gene, farming his psionic energy. That was why his barriers had always been up, protecting him even from his own powers. But now, his original mutation could reemerge.

Kraken nodded, unsure of what exactly that meant, but trusting the voice. “Well, I guess that beats being dead.”

“Great! I’ll fix your body, but you’re going to need to fight—like, right now.”

Before Kraken could even fully register what was happening, everything burst into a force of bright colors. Then, in an instant, he was back in the real world, standing face-to-face with a very surprised Cassandra Nova.

“That’s impossible!” she exclaimed, but her disbelief lasted only a second before Kraken’s fist connected with her face. The impact knocked her out cold, her body crumpling to the ground.

The next few minutes blurred together as Kraken dealt with the remaining shadowy corpses and assessed the situation. Nayoung rushed to his side, her face a mix of shock and relief. Kraken quickly explained what had happened with Cassandra Nova, how she had manipulated his X-gene and used him as a vessel for her resurrection.

As soon as he finished, Cyclops approached, his expression stern but not hostile. “We need to talk,” he said, gesturing for Kraken and Nayoung to follow him.

They were led to a secluded part of Krakoa, a quiet space away from the bustling center of the mutant nation. Waiting for them were Beast and Jean Grey, their faces serious as they gathered around to discuss what had just occurred. Cyclops crossed his arms, his eyes sharp as he addressed Kraken.

“We’ve been monitoring your arrival since you set foot on Krakoa,” Cyclops began. “We were aware of your connection to Cassandra Nova, but we didn’t know the full extent of it. Until now.”

Beast adjusted his glasses, his voice clinical but with a hint of concern. “Your X-gene has been... tampered with. Cassandra Nova didn’t just farm your powers for energy; she altered your entire mutation. What you have now is unlike anything we’ve seen before.”

Jean Grey chimed in, her tone softer. “We want to help you, Kraken, but we need to understand what’s happened to you first. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s clear Cassandra Nova manipulated more than just your abilities.”

Kraken shifted uncomfortably under their gazes. “I didn’t know she was using me as a backup plan. But now that she’s gone...”

Cyclops raised an eyebrow. “Is she gone? You knocked her out, but we both know someone like Cassandra Nova doesn’t stay down for long.”

Nayoung, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up. “Kraken didn’t ask for any of this. He didn’t know he was being used. We should be focusing on how to help him, not interrogating him.”

Jean nodded in agreement, stepping forward. “You’re right, Nayoung. Kraken is a victim of all of this. But he’s also a survivor.”

Beast interjected, his voice more pragmatic. “We need to keep a close eye on him. If his mutation has evolved beyond our understanding, we need to be prepared for any potential dangers.”

Kraken clenched his fists. “I’m not a threat.”

Cyclops uncrossed his arms, his posture relaxing slightly. “We’re not saying you are. But we’ve seen how dangerous tampered mutations can be, especially ones manipulated by someone like Cassandra Nova.”

Kraken looked to Nayoung, her presence calming him amidst the tension. She gave him a small, reassuring smile before turning to the others. “He’s not alone in this. Whatever happens, I’m with him.”

Cyclops exchanged a glance with Jean before nodding. “We’ll keep an open mind. For now, get some rest. We’ll reconvene once we’ve had more time to assess the situation.”

As they turned to leave, Kraken felt Nayoung slip her hand into his, grounding him once more. They had survived Cassandra Nova’s return together, and whatever came next, they would face it side by side. They arrive at her house for the night and walk in exhausted.

"That knockout punch was so funny." Nayoung teased. Kraken rolled his eyes as they moved around the living room eventually finding themselves in their shared bedroom getting ready to sleep.

When Nayoung bent over to pick something up Kraken noticed her perky jiggly ass for the first time. It looked so soft and squeezable. His intrusive thoughts told him to "grab it" repeatedly. Without a second thought, he reached out and grabbed it. Nayoung yelled at the unfamiliar feeling but as she felt the large hand grope and tease her ass she felt herself beginning to get wet. She turned around to see a dazed Kraken mindlessly grab her ass. She smiled as she bit her lip before turning to him.

“Oh naughty boy,” she teased, and Kraken lost control. He brought Nayoung in for a lurid kiss as he continued groping her soft bouncy ass. He had no idea where these impulses were coming from but just followed them. Nayoung on her part felt his strong hands roam her ass and smiled at him seductively in between chaste kisses. As they kiss Nayoung begins to grind her ass on Kraken’s crotch she smiles as she watches him shiver in pleasure.

“You like my ass baby?” she whispers with a seductive voice before going in for another kiss. Kraken nodded

“Then you should fuck it,” Nayoung said seductively as she casually dropped both of their pants. She marvels at his hard cock.

“Oh nice.” she cooed. Kraken lines himself with her asshole and watches as it clenched. Without warning Kraken slams his cock into Nayoung. She moans and groans in pleasure in pain as she arches her back into him. She rams her aching ass back onto Kraken hoping to get his dick deeper in her ass. As she did she guided his hands to her petite but bouncy breasts.

“Oh fuck yes. Tear my ass up.” Nayoung moans as her slick drips under them. Krakens’s grip tightens around Nayoung’s Breasts as he pounds her tight little ass. She doesn't even need to read his mind to know his brain is overstimulated by her and his new feelings. She laughs when she feels him erupt inside of her ass.

“Oh such a big load for me,” Nayoung says.

Kraken catches his breath as he and Nayoung fall into the nearby bed. She stares at him tenderly. She notices he is still hard for her. She smiles as she gently strokes his cock. She stares at him with the biggest heart eyes she has.

"you know I was beginning to think you didn't find me attractive." Nayoung teased.

"Why would you think that?" Kraken asked

Nayoung groaned as she said, "Well you never made a move until now?"

Kraken shrugged "well the urge never hit me until now."

"Huh weird. I guess Mrs. Nova was locking your libido down too." Nayoung suggested as she began to pick up the pace a bit on her handjob. Kraken groaned as she did so. Nayoung smiled.

"this new body is so responsive. I don't think I have ever seen you so reactive." Nayoung teased.

"Fuck Nayo keep it up I'm close." Kraken moaned. Nayoung smiled and said,

"What if I were to just stop right here, and leave you on the edge." to illustrate her point she slowed down to a tortously glacial pace. she smiled at Kraken, who moaned and bucked his hips into her hand.

"Um no no. I am in control baby. you'll get pleasure when I say so," she says as she grips on his meat tighter. she smiles when little beads of precum drip out into her hand, and she continues to stare at Kraken with those heart eyes before saying, "Okay now." before taking an unrelenting pace that's only goal was to get Kraken to cum. a few seconds later he exploded in her hand, and Nayoung smirked reveling in her control of her man.

The next morning, the sun rose over Krakoa, casting a warm golden light over the island's lush landscapes. Kraken and Nayoung were sitting outside, enjoying the peace and quiet after the chaos of the previous day. Kraken, still adjusting to the idea of being back in his original body, let his mind wander, wondering what the day ahead would bring.

Just then, a shimmering portal opened in front of them, and out stepped X-23, Magik, and Nightcrawler. Kraken tensed, recognizing them immediately as some of Krakoa's elite. Nayoung glanced at him with a reassuring smile, though her eyes were curious as well. They both stood as the trio approached.

"Kraken, Nayoung," Nightcrawler greeted warmly, his distinctive blue skin and gentle smile instantly putting Nayoung at ease. He glanced at Kraken with interest before turning his focus back to the group. "We wanted to check on you after yesterday’s... unexpected event."

"Unexpected is one way to put it," Kraken muttered, his arms crossed. "But I appreciate the concern."

Nightcrawler’s golden eyes studied Kraken for a moment before a look of recognition crossed his face. “Wait… I know you. You’re Daizen’s son, aren’t you? Daizen from Stanford, the professor.”

Kraken blinked in surprise. He wasn’t used to people recognizing his family, especially here. "Yeah... that’s my dad. Daizen Ishikawa. You knew him?"

Nightcrawler nodded, his expression a mix of admiration and somberness. “He was a great man, a prominent pro-mutant activist. He always fought for understanding between humans and mutants. I remember hearing him speak at the United Nations once. But...” Nightcrawler hesitated, "he was also... vocal in his opposition to Krakoa, wasn’t he?"

Magik, standing next to Nightcrawler with her sword resting on her shoulder, raised an eyebrow. "He was the one who said Krakoa would turn mutants into gods, wasn’t he?"

Kraken sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, that sounds like him. My dad was always complicated. He believed in mutants and humans coexisting, but he didn’t like the idea of isolating mutants on an island. Said it made us look like we were turning our backs on the world instead of fixing it."

X-23, quiet until now, crossed her arms and stepped forward. "So what do you think? Are you like him?"

Kraken met her gaze, his face unreadable for a moment before he spoke. "I’m not my father. I don’t agree with everything he said. He believed humans were capable of protecting mutants if we gave them the chance. But after seeing hate groups rise up, after what happened to him... I can't say I have that much faith."

Nayoung placed a comforting hand on his arm, sensing the emotion behind his words. Kraken took a deep breath, trying to find the right way to explain his beliefs. "I believe... that standing up for yourself is the only way to survive. You can’t wait for someone to save you. If you don’t fight for your own freedom, no one else will. And when you stand up, it gives others permission to do the same. That’s how you build stronger relationships, whether it’s between humans and mutants or between anyone. You show people your strength, and that pushes them to respect you."

Nightcrawler tilted his head, thoughtful. “So you believe in mutual respect earned through action?”

“Yeah," Kraken said, nodding. "I think mutants have to show the world we won’t be victims anymore, but that doesn’t mean we isolate ourselves. We have to engage with humans, show them we’re not going to be pushed around, but we’re also not above them. That’s how real relationships grow."

Magik gave a small smirk. "Interesting. You sound like you’d fit right in here after all."

X-23 uncrossed her arms, her expression softening slightly. "You’re saying we need to be strong, but not just for ourselves. For everyone else, too."

Kraken nodded again, more firmly this time. "Exactly. Standing up for yourself teaches others to stand up for themselves. And once that happens, respect grows naturally. It’s not about being superior or inferior—it’s about being equal, but not relying on someone else to define that for you."

Nightcrawler’s gaze softened with understanding, and he nodded in agreement. “Your father was a wise man, and it seems that you’ve inherited his passion, even if your paths differ.”

"I suppose," Kraken replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "But it’s not just about mutants being ‘better’ than humans, or setting ourselves apart. It’s about making sure we’re part of the world, standing our ground, and not letting fear—or anyone else—dictate our place in it."

Nayoung looked up at Kraken, her eyes bright with pride. “You’re right. If we want things to change, we can’t just run away from the world. We have to face it.”

X-23 nodded, stepping back as if the conversation had satisfied her curiosity. "Sounds like you’ve got your head on straight. Guess we don’t have to worry about you being like Cassandra Nova, after all."

Kraken let out a small, dry laugh. “Definitely not.”

Magik’s smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You might just survive here, Kraken."

Nightcrawler smiled warmly, reaching out to shake Kraken’s hand. “Welcome to Krakoa, my friend. I think you’ll find there are many here who share your beliefs.”

As Kraken shook his hand, he felt a sense of acceptance from the group, something that had been missing since he set foot on Krakoa. Maybe, just maybe, he could carve out a place here after all.

As they turned to leave, Kraken exchanged a glance with Nayoung. "Looks like I’m not so out of place here, huh?"

Nayoung smiled. “Told you so.”

Kraken glanced at it absentmindedly, seeing that he was tagged in a post by The Flying Dutchman’s official page. He opened the app, expecting some promotional material for their upcoming album, but as he scrolled through the post, his stomach twisted.

The words felt foreign, even though they were written clearly in front of him. “New sound, new direction. Excited to welcome our new vocalist…” Kraken’s grip tightened on his phone as he kept reading. Anger flared first, but sadness soon followed, settling deep in his chest.

Nayoung’s voice was light and cheerful in the background, talking to her members, but the sharp contrast to Kraken’s mounting turmoil felt like static in his head. She turned back to him, noticing the shift in his energy before she even saw his face.

“You okay?” she asked softly, stepping toward him.

Kraken took a slow breath, forcing a smile that felt brittle. “I’ll try to be.”

Nayoung didn’t seem convinced. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and peppering him with soft kisses. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. Stay safe, okay?”

Kraken only nodded, watching as she headed off with her group. Once she was out of sight, he turned and walked home in silence.

Two weeks later.

At Nayoung’s concert in LA, Kraken sat in the audience, enjoying the energy of the crowd, though a part of him still felt disconnected from the excitement. Afterward, they met up at a quiet burger joint, the dim lighting and soft murmur of conversation providing a sense of calm after the high-energy performance.

Nayoung looked at him curiously, sensing something had shifted in him. He looked different somehow, more distant. She couldn’t quite place it.

“You know,” she began, taking a sip of her drink, “there’s this new artist I found recently. Reminds me a lot of you. His name is Daikaiju. He’s really good.”

Kraken raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Oh yeah? What’s your favorite song of his?”

Nayoung beamed, glad to see him smile, even if just for a moment. “Definitely Rampage. It’s eerie and moody but the lyrics are so fascinating. It’s like he’s trapped in this city full of people who use him. And then there’s Calamity, oh man, that one’s about standing up for yourself even when it’s terrifying.” She paused, watching him for a reaction. “Kind of like you.”

Kraken chuckled softly, nodding. “Sounds like my kind of music.”

“But enough about that—how’s The Flying Dutchman doing? I thought you guys just dropped a new album.”

Kraken’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he shrugged. “You should give it a listen.”

Nayoung frowned, confused. She took out her phone, pulling up the album she’d saved but hadn’t had time to hear yet. She tapped on Sledgehammer, expecting to hear Kraken’s familiar voice. As the song played, she frowned, skipping ahead. His voice was nowhere to be found.

Her confusion turned to shock as she checked the lead single—the one they’d worked on together. Nothing.

“They kicked you out,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kraken nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah.”

“But why? What happened?” she demanded, her anger rising.

Kraken’s smirk was bitter. “It’s simple, really. They saw the fight in Krakoa, saw me getting involved with mutants, and got scared. Said it was bad for the band’s image. I guess it wasn’t about the music anymore.”

Nayoung’s eyes flashed with fury. “That’s ridiculous!”

Kraken shrugged again, the weight of it all heavier than he let on. “It is what it is.”

Nayoung reached across the table, grabbing his hand. “You didn’t deserve that. You’re an amazing artist, and if they can’t see that, screw them.”

Kraken’s smile returned, softer this time. “Thanks. But hey, at least there’s always Daikaiju.”

Nayoung squeezed his hand, determined to support him, no matter what. Kraken smiled mischeviosky as Nayoung hugged him. She noticed and said,

“What is it?”

“Oh nothing,” Kraken responded. Nayoung pouted, “you're hiding something.” she said suspicious of Kraken.

“I am but I can't reveal everything just yet.”

Over the next few days, Nayoung found herself listening to Daikaiju more often than she intended. At first, it was just curiosity. The artist had dropped four singles seemingly out of nowhere, and the buzz around him was growing by the day. But it wasn’t just the hype—it was the music itself that grabbed her and wouldn’t let go. Each track carried a weight, as though the artist was unburdening himself with every note, every word.

Rampage was the first to hook her. It began with a slow, steady pulse of industrial beats, building gradually into a cacophony of heavy guitars and eerie synths. The sound was so raw, almost unpolished, but in a way that felt intentional. Like the music itself was a fight to maintain control, to keep from spiraling. The lyrics were sharp, almost biting. Daikaiju spoke of being trapped, surrounded by people and forces that drained him, used him, and cast him aside. But beneath that rage was something more—a sense of defiance.

The bridge of the song was quieter, almost a whisper, and Nayoung found herself leaning in, waiting for the next line. “Claws sharpened on broken chains… wings clipped, but I’ll soar again,” he sang. There was something unmistakably mutant in that imagery, something that spoke to the struggle of hiding, of being forced to suppress a part of yourself that should be free.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d heard this story before.

As the days went on, Nayoung dove deeper into Daikaiju’s music. Calamity came next, and she listened to it on repeat for hours. The song was slower, more haunting, with dissonant chords clashing against a backdrop of ambient noise. The lyrics painted a picture of cowardice and bravery, of the terrifying moment when you have to choose between hiding or standing up for yourself. “Courage isn’t in the absence of fear,” Daikaiju’s voice crooned, “it’s knowing fear, and standing anyway.”

There was something achingly personal in the way he sang those lines. It felt less like he was performing and more like he was confessing.

Every time Nayoung played one of his tracks, she felt a sense of familiarity tugging at the edges of her mind. It was more than just recognizing the themes of struggle and defiance—it was as if the person behind the music was someone she knew intimately. His voice carried a vulnerability she recognized, though it was often masked by the layers of distortion and effects. Daikaiju didn’t just sing about pain, isolation, and determination—he lived it in every note.

Late one night, Nayoung was scrolling through fan comments on one of the music forums when something caught her eye. Someone had written under a post about Eclipse, one of Daikaiju’s singles: “This guy sounds like Kraken but with more raw emotion. Anyone else getting that vibe?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Kraken. It couldn’t be, could it?

She tried to shake the thought from her mind at first. Kraken had been through a lot lately—getting kicked out of The Flying Dutchman, the fight in Krakoa—but this? This seemed almost too coincidental. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. The sudden change in Kraken’s behavior after the trip to Krakoa, the distant way he had been acting during their last few conversations. There was something unspoken hanging between them, something Kraken hadn’t been able to say outright.

And now, listening to Daikaiju, she could feel it. It was Kraken’s voice. Not just in the literal sense, though it had that same familiar grit and tone—but in the emotional depth, in the way he laid bare his struggles without fully explaining them. This was Kraken, stripped of the bravado and stage presence of The Flying Dutchman. This was Kraken speaking directly from his soul, unfiltered.

Her fingers shook as she hit replay on Rampage. This time, she listened even more intently, her mind racing. She heard the subtle shifts in his voice, the way he struggled to keep the anger in check. She recognized the lines that spoke to her directly, that made her think of the conversations they’d had late into the night about what it meant to be a mutant, about the battles they faced just to be themselves.

It was all there, hidden in plain sight. The identity Kraken had hidden from the world was woven into every beat, every word of Daikaiju’s music. He hadn’t explicitly said it, but it was there, for those who listened closely enough to understand.

Nayoung’s heart swelled with pride—and a deep sadness. Kraken had gone through this alone. He had taken all of the pain, the rejection, the confusion, and turned it into art. But in doing so, he had distanced himself from the people who cared about him.

She couldn’t help but wonder how long he had been planning this. Daikaiju wasn’t just a side project—it was his way of rebuilding himself, of finding a new voice after losing his place in the band. But it was also a way of hiding. By releasing this music under a new name, he was protecting himself from the vulnerability of exposing his true feelings.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized how deeply personal Daikaiju was. Kraken had taken his childhood nickname—Kaiju—and combined it with his first name, Daizen, to create something entirely new. It was as if he was reclaiming a part of himself he had lost over the years, a part that had been overshadowed by the fame and pressure of being in The Flying Dutchman.

Nayoung smiled, a bittersweet feeling washing over her. She had always known Kraken to be someone who fought for what he believed in, who stood up for himself no matter the odds. But now, she was seeing a different side of him—a side that was more introspective, more vulnerable. And she admired him even more for it.

With a soft sigh, she put her headphones down and sent Kraken a text: “You should know, Daikaiju is amazing. I’m proud of you.”

A few minutes passed before Nayoung’s phone buzzed, breaking her reverie. It was Kraken—no, Daikaiju now, she reminded herself. She couldn’t help but smile as she answered, excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

“So, you figured it out. My little sleuth,” he said, his voice laced with a playful mischief that immediately made her heart skip.

“Yeah,” Nayoung replied, trying to match his teasing tone, “on my fifteenth listen of Rampage, I finally cracked the case. I didn’t know you had more in you than just metal, Kraken.”

“Daikaiju,” he corrected, but there was no seriousness in it. “And yeah, there’s a lot I’ve been keeping under wraps. Metal’s great and all, but there’s more to me than just screaming and shredding.”

Nayoung grinned. “Mmm, there is, isn’t there?” She let her words hang in the air for a moment, enjoying the way they teased out a little silence before Kraken spoke again.

“Well, you know,” he began, his tone becoming more reflective, “one of the biggest things I pushed for in The Flying Dutchman was trying new sounds, experimenting beyond metal. But for them, it was always about being technically perfect. Especially Douglas. Everything had to be precise, academic even. Time signatures had to be flawless, tempos had to be perfect, and they were obsessed with hitting every mark.”

Nayoung could hear the frustration in his voice, though he kept it light. “Sounds exhausting.”

“Oh, it was. They were so caught up in making the music ‘perfect’ that they couldn’t finish anything. Before I joined, they could barely complete a song. It was like they were more interested in the mechanics of music than the art. I remember at one point saying, ‘Look, how are we supposed to play half of this stuff live?’ You know? Live performances are where we make a big chunk of our money, and some of their ideas were just impossible to pull off.”

She laughed softly. “I can’t even imagine trying to sing along to that.”

Kraken chuckled in return. “Exactly! It got so bad that it sucked the fun out of creating. Music stopped being about making something that spoke to people—it became a math equation. Sure, we sounded good on a technical level, but we were missing soul.”

“Well,” Nayoung said, her voice teasing again, “I think you’ve done an exceptional job with Daikaiju. Your sequencing is impeccable. You’ve got a way of blending chaos with melody. It’s clever. Really clever.”

“Thank you,” Kraken replied, a warmth creeping into his voice. He paused, as if taking a moment to absorb her compliment. “Daikaiju’s different because... it’s me. Completely independent. I can do whatever I want with it, release music when I’m ready, on my own terms.”

Nayoung giggled. “So, basically, you’re saying you can release music at an almost uncontrollable, chaotic rate?”

Kraken laughed. “Pretty much. Like a wildfire—once it starts, it’s hard to stop.”

“Sounds like you’re enjoying the freedom,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.

“I am. It’s been liberating. No more pressure to fit into someone else’s vision or be perfect all the time. I get to mess up. I get to create without the fear of being judged for it. And it’s funny... the less ‘perfect’ I try to be, the more people seem to connect with the music.”

Nayoung’s heart softened at the vulnerability he was showing. “That’s because people can hear you now. The real you, not the version someone else wanted you to be.”

“Maybe,” Kraken replied quietly, almost to himself. Then, in a lighter tone, he added, “Alright, last question, detective Nayoung.”

“Wait, no,” she protested, “I get to ask the last question!” She couldn’t stop herself from grinning, even though he couldn’t see her.

“Fine, fine,” he said, playing along. “What’s your final inquiry, detective?”

She bit her lip, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “When’s the Daikaiju tour, and when are you coming to Seoul? I want to see you again.”

Kraken laughed—a deep, rich sound that sent a flutter through her chest. “Ah, that’s the question, huh?”

“Of course. I’m your biggest fan now,” she teased, her voice softening. “I think I deserve a VIP ticket, at least.”

“You’re more than a VIP,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone that made her pulse quicken. “I could visit Seoul anytime. You know that.”

“Hmm, well, I’m waiting,” Nayoung said playfully. “Just tell me when.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I’m packed. How does that sound?”

Nayoung’s smile widened. “It sounds like a plan. Just make sure you bring Daikaiju with you.”

“Oh, I’ll bring more than that,” he replied, his voice full of promise. “I’ll bring everything.”

Nayoung’s heart fluttered at the playfulness of his words, but there was an underlying sincerity that made her feel like this was more than just music. Kraken—no, Daikaiju—was stepping into a new chapter, one where he was fully himself. And she couldn’t wait to be a part of it

[thegoldiehanson]

Nudist free-use family fantasy (per request) ❤️

In my family, there’s no such thing as clothes when we get home. As soon as any one of us steps through the door, we immediately take off all our clothes in the entranceway of our house. It first started when daddy and I got married and decided we wanted to be completely free in our home. We both wanted children and wanted our family to be the same way.

Daddy loved seeing me pregnant with our 2 kiddos, walking around with my huge swollen belly, and even more massive breasts! I didn’t think they could get any bigger, but I was wrong! They’d constantly drip milk on the floor when I walked around, but daddy didn’t mind cleaning it up. My breasts were always free for our kiddos to drink from whenever they wanted.

Daddy and I normalized our family seeing each other’s naked bodies, telling our son & daughter that this is the most natural way to be. That there’s no shame in nudity, our bodies are beautiful. Daddy and I were also so horny for each other that my nipples would almost always be hard and he would often have a boner when I was in the room. We normalized touching each other, no matter if we were alone or not. This is what grownups do, we told our son & daughter. In our house, if you have an urge, it’s okay to act on it.

When they were teenagers and their bodies became more adult, we noticed our son staring at our daughter constantly, and he always had a boner. He would playfully smack her ass when she walked by and she would smack his hard cock in return. We told them once they turn 18, they can join mommy & daddy’s sex, but until then they had to practice on each other.

For the next couple years, our son & daughter groped each other constantly. Sitting on the couch watching tv, I would stroke daddy’s cock while our daughter stroked her brother’s cock. He would grab his sister’s tits and suck on her nipples while she texted her friends. She would get on her knees in between his legs and suck his cock while he played video games.

They were used to seeing daddy & I fucking and wanted to try it themselves. I will never forget the look on their faces as they gave their virginity to each other ❤️ daddy and I were so proud of the loving family we made. From then on it was a regular thing to see our offspring making love to each other. One time, daddy was fucking me on the kitchen counter, and our son decided to make it a competition, to see who could last longer - so he lifted his sister onto the counter and started fucking her right next to us!

When they turned 18, they started touching me and daddy too, in fact on their 18th birthdays they both woke up and ran to our bedroom. For our son, he immediately latched onto my nipples and squeezed my huge breasts. His hard cock pressed against my thigh and I grabbed it and started stroking, while daddy was laying next to me. I told him “happy 18th birthday son, you’re officially a man now!” He moaned and said he couldn’t wait any longer, he’d been dying to know what mommy’s pussy felt like. He said he’d been fantasizing about sharing me with his dad for a long time, that I was such a good mommy who deserved TWO cocks inside her.

I slid over on top of daddy and grabbed his morning wood, and stuffed it into my ass. Then my son lifted my legs and touched my wet pussy, sliding his finger inside me while daddy slowly moved his huge cock in and out of my ass. My son’s erection looked even bigger now that it was about to go inside me. I guided his cock into my pussy and he let out a moan.

He immediately started pounding my tight pussy, greedy for it and totally giving into his urges. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m finally fucking the pussy that I came out of,” he moaned. “Mommy’s so tight…I can’t hold it for very long!” It only took a couple more minutes for him to release his young seed inside of me. “Oh my god mommy, you’re so hot. I’ve been dreaming about my 18th birthday ever since the first time I saw dad fuck you,” he panted.

On our daughter’s 18th birthday, it was much the same - she jumped into bed with her daddy & I and lay in between us. She reached both of her hands down and started rubbing my clit, and stroking daddy’s hard cock. Daddy said “happy 18th birthday baby,” and started making out with her and grabbing her breasts. Gradually he moved his hand down her beautiful body and started rubbing her pussy. He slid a finger inside and our daughter gasped. “Oh daddy, yes…that feels so good, it’s making me so wet!” I started sucking on her nipples while daddy slid another finger inside her tight pussy. “Mmm daddy, I’ve been admiring your huge cock for so long, I love seeing it get hard and have been a little jealous of mommy that she got to have your cock all to herself. Pleeeease put it inside me daddy, I need to feel you. Mommy, I want to see your pussy too, and I want to taste it at last.”

I guided our daughter in between my open legs, and she spread my pussy lips, kissing my clit. She knelt with her ass in the air while daddy got behind her, ready to fuck her doggy-style. She flicked her tongue around my clit while I looked up at her daddy, watching him slide his giant erection into her new 18-year old pussy. He rubbed his hands all over her perfect ass, grabbing it, pulling it towards him as thrust his cock as far inside her as possible. Her moans were muffled as she buried her face in my pussy, licking all over my folds and sucking my pussy lips. Daddy moaned and said “that looks so good, babygirl. I love seeing my two girls love each other like that. Show mommy how much you appreciate her pussy, baby. That’s where you came from.”

I moaned loudly as I got closer to cumming…looking up at her daddy, our eyes locking on each other, smiling because now our family was complete. We had passed the threshold and could now fully experience our ultimate familial bliss. I held our daughter’s head in place and grinded my pussy against her mouth as I screamed while cumming. Daddy spanked her ass repeatedly and said “good girl, making your mommy cum. Now you’re gonna make daddy cum.” He pounded her pussy hard and fast as her screams filled the room. With a final thrust, he came inside her, crying out “fuuuuuck yes, babygirl!” He slowly pulled his huge cock out and watched his cum leak out of her pussy.

And with that, our family became complete. Now we were all adults and could be completely free to touch each other whenever and wherever we wanted. My son and daughter regularly get in our open shower with me, soaping up my breasts, rubbing my body all over, and I do the same to them. Our daughter will sit her pussy down on daddy’s cock at any given time, and her brother will often see them and join in, sticking his huge young cock into her ass, or into her mouth while he pulls her hair. Our son will also grab me while I’m making dinner, bend me over and start fucking me. All of our bodies are completely shared with one another, made to be naked, doing whatever feels natural, free to grab, suck, or fuck at any time.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

People asking which one we get between Jack Skellington and Oogie Boogie, while I'm sitting here in a Comm class thinking "Why not both? Lmao". We all recognize them easily, so having it a twist(heh) of both, with Jack's being a hero character and Oogie being the main bad, could work out with how they actually are.

How Yana could go about it, idk, we'll have to wait and see. But honestly, am so fucking hyped for it. But what exactly do you think could be a possible plot idea or what do you think could happen in the event?

You can answer at your own leisure.

[Referencing this post!]

I don’t think it’s strange at all that people are speculating which character will be the one twisted. Yes, Fellow and Gidel were introduced as a pair, meaning that there is no limit or precedent set for there only be one new character revealed. However, it’s very clear that Fellow was the star of the show, as he has the stronger presence (and ended up getting the SSR as well). Ultimately, it does mean they end up being treated like a single character rather than individuals anyway. So really, I think most fans are still running on the logic that only “one” can be twisted.

The problem with Jack and Oogie is that they are both strong presences, neither dominating the other when it comes to being attention grabbing. Fellow and Gidel go together, but Jack and Oogie are opposing forces, not teammates, in their own story. This makes it hard to predict which of them will be twisted and makes it less likely they’d be crammed into the same card.

(ncbsbsvwjwheisn NOT GONNA LIE, I’m really hyped for a twisted!Jack Skellington… but a part of me is also really attached to my OC that’s twisted from Jack 🤡 That’s not to say that I don’t want a canonized one; I think I’d actually ASCEND if we got a twisted!Jack Skellington for real!!! It’s just that I wouldn’t know what to do with my OC after the fact 🤷‍♂️ Something similar happened with my Snow White OC when Neige was introduced in book 5 www)

A popular idea I’ve seen in circulation is another isekai plot where either the students go to Halloween Town or the Nightmare Before Christmas characters come to Twisted Wonderland from Halloween Town. I’d wager that’s a pretty safe guess! Like… they’re doing their Halloween parade prep and there’s a new character disrupting things. Maybe they’ll have to pull off a heist or kidnapping of some kind?? 🤔 It would be funny if the NRC boys had to help play matchmaker for a Sally and Jack/j Personally (and this is a stretch), I really would like to see some kind of casino or gambling element because I love those design details for Oogie’s lair. Not sure if it would make sense being a large part of the event story, but it would be cool to consider.

[lau219]

Enemies with Benefits

Part 21: (1 of 2)

Previous part here

I know I said that this chapter would be where we see some real vulnerability from Tommy, but I decided to split this chapter up. So here’s part 1 of 2. Part 2 coming very soon!

…………………………………………………………………………….

“Look, what’s done is done, Tommy,” Polly said as she stood near the window in Tommy’s office, resting against the sill as she looked at him from across the room. “He’s already here, Arthur’s already given him the money. So the question now is, how do we move forward?”

Still looking at Tommy, Polly raised her cigarette to her lips as she waited for him to respond.

Sitting in his desk chair, Tommy was faced in Polly’s general direction, but rather than looking at her, he was focusing on the wall just beyond her shoulder, trying to force himself to calm down. Everything that was happening causing the blood in his veins to boil and rush, and he wasn’t sure he was able to speak yet without yelling.

Arthur. Fucking Arthur. The fucking moron was absolutely brainless.

After all these years, after all the false claims and repeated broken promises, he still yearned for their father’s attention and affection, and fell for it every time when Arthur Sr. would weasel his way back into their lives temporarily. Arthur always hoped and believed that their father actually cared for his children and that a reconciliation was in the cards, and every time, those hopes were quickly dashed when their father would yet again disappear as soon as he got whatever it was he really needed, once again dropping any and all contact for God knew how long, until the next time he’d inevitably present himself again.

The last time it happened, it had left a larger than ever dent in the family’s bank account and had thrown Arthur into an incredibly deep depression, not to mention causing the reactivation of Tommy’s involvement in multiple less-than-legal deals and connections that he’d spent the previous two years slowly trying to remove himself from. Arthur had yet again helped their father use their name and money to cover his ass for debts he owed and promises he’d broken to others.

Tommy had sworn that as soon as the latest bout was resolved, he’d make it so that all this could never happen again. Once he’d found out Ada was pregnant, Tommy had immediately begun the process of moving them all to the States. No way was he going to let all this keep happening and for his nephew to be subjected to the same toxic shit they all had been subjected to. He was ready to finally operate cleanly and never have to deal with their father again. It was time for a new chapter, which is what he’d promised himself the very first day he’d made the final return home from service. And then he’d finally accomplished it, cutting the old ties and creating a new home base for them all here, making his mark in more legal ways and managing to keep his father away for the last four years.

But apparently, four years was the longest Arthur was able to remember what a piece of shit their father was before forgetting again, and when he had evidently reached out to Arthur two months ago, Arthur had all too eagerly responded.

Just as he’d told Tommy, Arthur Sr. originally claimed the reason for his visit was that he wanted to meet his grandson and also congratulate his sons on their success and see for himself all that they’d accomplished. But, unable to hide his own idiocy, Arthur had admitted to the family the other day that he’d given their father over ten thousand dollars to pay off multiple gambling debts he’d been unable to talk himself out of back in Birmingham. And these apparently were debts that had formidable payees, some of whom Tommy was all too familiar with from his own previous interactions with them. They all knew the success Tommy had made himself, and therefore had granted his father the permission to head to the U.S. to get them the money he owed.

Upon learning what Arthur had done, Tommy had immediately frozen his ability to access or use any of the family accounts, and he'd warned John that if a single additional cent went unaccounted for, he'd cut him off, too. Over the last few days, Arthur and Tommy hadn't spoken or seen each other, as Arthur had made himself scarce since the reaming Tommy had given him. And although he'd gotten what he needed, their father was still hanging around, having joined Arthur wherever the hell it was he'd slunk off to.

As he'd told Y/N, Tommy had planned on giving him a very harsh piece of his mind and then sending him packing the couple days after he'd arrived. However, they ended up having not seen each other again yet, and it made Tommy all the more angry and tense that he was still around and undoubtedly filling Arthur's head with more bullshit.

"Stop stewing over this and just let it go," Polly spoke again then, cutting into Tommy's thoughts. "It's only ten grand."

Now moving his eyes to Polly, Tommy finally spoke.

"You think I give a fuck about the money?" he asked rhetorically, his voice filled with anger. "It's the fucking fact that he's here, that he's just stirring the pot and filling Arthur's head with bullshit, and that he fucks with everyone every Goddamn time and none of you ever seem to fucking comprehend that he's a waste of fucking life!"

Tommy's voice had risen the longer he'd spoke, and he felt his blood boiling again. For fuck's sake, why did Polly never get angry about the right stuff?

"Besides you, Thomas, no one knows better than me what a piece of shit your father is," Polly said then, keeping her cool as she took another drag from her cigarette and looked back at him. "But you can't undo what Arthur's done, and despite your best efforts to control him, you'll have to put a tracking device on that idiot if you want to keep him from ever engaging with your father again. I accepted a long time ago that it's pointless -- he's never gonna give up the perfect picture of Daddy being who he wants him to be."

Tommy gave a bitter scoff, turning back to his desk and lighting a cigarette before he then replied to Polly.

"Well, he's gonna give it up. Because when they finally get back here, that perfect picture is gonna be lit on fucking fire."

@nyxxie-pooh @xsweetcatastrophe @allie131313 @betty21rose @febris-amatoria

@hannibellector @fairytale07 @meister95 @alltoowellbeneaththemangotree @beastofburdenxo

@runnning-outof-time @aphroditeslover11 @galactict3a @natalie--rushman @wild-rose-35

@judig92 @pkmonka @ladyvenera @karah-bear @k1ng-l3on

@ceirinen @peskybinders @fuseburner @shaddixlife @neonpurplestars89-blog

@garrison-girl-08 @devotedlyshadowytheorist @emotionalcadaver @muhahaha303 @mostly-marvel-musings

@darklydeliciousdesires @an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction @vervainandspritz @wonderlanddreamer @novashelby

@honeymoon8 @cardan-official @meadows5

[novamariestark]

Can I get a Dean Winchesterx reader using prompts 9 and 10 off list one and prompt 46 off list two, please?

Summary: A quiet date night with Dean gets interrupted.

Warnings: proofread but there's always a mistake after posting 🤣

Word count: 1229

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Prompts: “LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS ILLEGAL!” “Did you just... agree with me?” “I'm actually going to kill you”

[A/N] hope you like 😁

How did we even get here? Sometimes, life takes a strange turn, almost as if the universe decides to have a little fun with you—except you’re not laughing. The night had started so differently. It was supposed to be simple—normal even. Sam had dropped the two of you off at that tiny, run-down bar a few miles outside town, giving you some space for your long-awaited “date night.” You were supposed to have a quiet evening, maybe a few drinks, some laughs. No monsters. No hunts.

But, because some idiot stumbled into the bar, raving about a “monster” they’d seen outside town that meant date night was over. You’d barely finished your drink before you were dragged out, headed straight for where the alleged sighting had taken place. The kicker? Sam had taken the Impala to pick up some supplies, promising to come back later. So here you were, stranded without Baby, crouched behind a row of garbage bins like a couple of amateurs. This is not how you imagined your alone time with Dean would go. You had hoped for something more... normal.

Dean was in front of you, so at least you had something nice to look at. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look good, but seriously? This was the worst idea he’d had all week—and that was saying something. At first you thought you had heard him wrong but oh no. You had heard him right.

You glanced at him, unable to believe what was coming out of his mouth. “Are you seriously suggesting we rob a cop car?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm, even though you were two seconds away from smacking some sense into him.

Dean turned to you with that infuriatingly casual grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Borrow,” he corrected, like that made it better. “It’s not illegal if we give it back.”

You stared at him for a moment, your brain struggling to comprehend the sheer level of Dean Winchester logic you were dealing with right now. He had to be joking. But he wasn’t. He was dead serious.

“Okay,” you shot back, your voice dripping with so much sarcasm that it could be visible, “maybe next we can walk into the nearest bank and help ourselves to the entirety of the vault. You know, for funsies.” Dean’s only response was to roll his eyes, still not seeing the problem. You took a deep breath as you waved your hands around for emphasis. “LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS ILLEGAL!”

Honestly, you weren’t sure whether to laugh or scream. You were a hunter—a damn good one. You could handle ghosts, demons, and all manner of monsters that most people couldn’t even fathom. And yet, here you were, stuck with this idiot, debating grand theft auto like it was something minute like, who’s turn it was to wash the dishes.

You gave him the deadliest deadpan look you could muster, hoping he’d catch a hint of how ridiculous he sounded. “I’m actually going to kill you.”

Dean’s grin only widened, those green eyes glimmering in the dim light. “But you’ll look good doing it.”

You rolled your eyes, though you could feel the faint heat creeping up your neck. His charm was both your kryptonite and your fuel—it was hard to stay mad when he looked at you like that, but then again, it also made you want to throw something at him. Preferably something heavy.

Glancing back at the cop car, you sighed. This was ridiculous. Utterly insane. The rational part of your brain screamed at you to shut this down, to come up with a better plan. But the other part—the part that had been on countless hunts with Dean, the part that trusted him more than anyone else—knew you were probably going to go along with it anyway.

“Fine,” you sighed, the word leaving your lips before you even knew you thought it.

The second it slipped out, you mentally kicked yourself. Seriously? Fine? Fine? Really? That’s all it took? One look from him, and you were ready to throw common sense out the window? You weren’t fine. Yet somehow, here you were, agreeing to what had to be the stupidest plan Dean Winchester had ever come up with. And that was a long list.

Dean’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts, pulling you back to the present. “Did you just... agree with me?” His tone was laced with mock disbelief, but that smirk—oh, that damn smirk—said it all. He was enjoying this way too much, and it didn’t help that the glint in his eyes practically sparkled.

You hated that look. The one that always made your stomach do flips, like a rollercoaster you swore you’d never ride again, but kept getting back on anyway. It wasn’t just the smirk. It was Dean. He had this magnetic pull, and no matter how much your brain screamed No!, your heart—and apparently your mouth—tended to betray you in his presence.

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, crossing your arms, trying to regain some control over the situation. You weren’t completely rolling over here. You’d follow him into the fire, sure—but you’d still give him hell for it.

Dean winked, already turning his attention back to the car, pulling out his lock-picking tools and started to unlock the car, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered, shooting you another wink and that cheeky smirk of his that sometimes you wanted to smack and others, kiss until you both looked like smurfs.

Your heart fluttered in spite of itself as you tried to ignore the way he seemed so damn... charming while committing a felony. His words floated around your head. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.” Oh, you knew exactly what he was implying. Your lips twitched involuntarily. Damn him.

You crossed your arms, glaring at the back of his head, “What? My criminal record?”

Dean finally got the lock to pop, a click breaking the silence. He stood up, turning back to you with that grin, “See? Easy as pie.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” he said, with the cocky tone in his voice because he knew he wasn’t wrong. You hated how much he knew it, how much he knew you.

You took a step closer to him, eyes narrowing as you shot him a pointed look. “Just get in the damn car, Winchester.”

Dean chuckled as he pulled the door open, “After you, sweetheart,” he said, gesturing to the passenger seat.

You climbed into the car, the faint smell of cheap air freshener and coffee mixing with the cool air of the night. Dean slid in beside you, looking far too pleased with himself. The engine roared to life, and as the tires crunched over gravel, you couldn’t help but shoot him another sideways glance.

“So, what’s the plan, genius?” you asked, crossing your arms as if that might protect you.

Dean shrugged, “Find the monster, kill the monster, return the car—no harm, no foul.”

“If we end up in jail, you’re explaining this to Sam.” You said, leaning back into the seat, propping your elbow on the door, and resting your chin on your palm.

[chevelleneech]

Are You Sure? - Ep8

Here are my thoughts now that I finally watched the episode (I was at work all day, anon, lol).

I honestly don’t have too too many, because my main takeaway was that they seemed to have truly needed these trips together. They knew by Jeju they’d be enlisting together, so I feel like any thoughts I had about the trips being a sort of last hurrah before potentially being separated go out the window.

They knew they’d be together, so barring them being romantically involved in some way… I kind of don’t get the point of the series.

Had this been a special involving other members, then it being work related would make sense. Had this been more like the Jeju episodes where they weren’t as laid back, I’d get it, but it wasn’t. Five out of eight episodes focused on them not doing much else other than simply spending time together. Sight seeing and going out to eat, with a sprinkle of activities. We saw them shopping for food and driving more than anything else, but for some reason they both still say the whole experience and filming of the series was the best thing they’ve gotten to do.

That to me, and I say this with full honesty, does not make sense to me, if they’re strictly platonic. I don’t know, episode eight sees them putting a certain level of importance on these trips that many antis wanted to rip away, and surely they knew that. They know what people think about them in their own fandom, both for the better and the worse, and they didn’t care. Which, good for them.

Moving away from my confusion in an attempt to find another explanation, I also think their joint melancholy about having to leave triggered the dropping of their guards a little bit. Add that to them drinking some, and their whole reaction moment felt almost intrusive to see, lol. They kept gravitating toward each other the entire time, only for the editors to skip to them sitting back up with more space between them. Nevermind the footsie and Jimin walking by the room they were shown going to bed in, when he said he was going to wake JK up.

So unless Jungkook was already up and in the shower or something, which they conveniently didn’t mention despite doing it every other time… they either didn’t sleep in the room with the camera or JK moved rooms. But again, given they gave us updates about every other sleeping arrangement or change, why would their last night be different if nothing happened? (By “nothing” I genuinely mean I think they moved to a different room without a camera, likely to talk or simply be closer. Not necessarily sex, because again, I don’t see them going there with a house full of staff.)

Pure speculation of course, lol, but yeah. Those moments made me feel a little like, okay, they did this with the intent of making memories. They may have wanted to cement who they are to each other in this moment, because no matter how optimistic they were that things wouldn’t change and their friendship would be solid, no one can predict the future.

Couple that with them both starting Ep1 saying they hadn’t seen each other and Jimin not being sure (no pun intended) the trip was a good idea in the first place, to them ending Ep8 saying they didn’t want it to be over and spent the last few days happy… it’s a big deal, I think. Especially with how many times they spent their last day in Sapporo taking about how romantic and pretty everything was.

Per the words from their own mouths, they created a small, romantic, nice, and happy bubble they didn’t want to leave, and I love that for them. They got to be happy and cared for by one another, and want to spend many more years to come doing the same thing. I hope they get that.

Oh and final thought… I want that house! Their final Sapporo house was beautiful, as was the town. It felt like a holiday special!

[ninyard]

sorry for blowing up your inbox with my thoughts on nathan’s theoretical/maybe non-existent posthumous trial, but i have more to say. with another prerequisite that i’m even less of an expert on french law than i am on u.s. law.

to start, as i previously stated there is very little precedent in the u.s. for posthumous trials, in fact i do believe that there has never been a posthumous trial for someone done on a federal level (feel free to fact check me on that). i do, however, believe that nathan would have a posthumous trial, if only to help implicate some of his associates. i cannot remember who all survived the hatford/fbi joint takeover of wesninski manor, but even if some of them died i’m pretty sure nathan was the one carrying out most of the murders. so, in order to arrest them for aiding & abetting (ig) they’d need to have nathan convicted as well.

i also talked about how the fbi would want to ease public concern, even if i did get the region wrong (sorry lol). nathan was at large for at the very least 25 years, very likely longer. this would be big news throughout the country. nathan seems to have a very distinct style to his murders, and he seems to have been consistently murdering people throughout the country while hunting down his wife and child. so, even though his most consistent range is likely baltimore and the surrounding areas, kills in his style were likely found across the continent of north america. i’m struggling to articulate just how big of news it would be for a serial killer to consistently kill people for over twenty years without getting caught. it would be remembered as an era of fear that no one could possibly forget. the fbi would want people to know that nathan would no longer be killing anybody, and they’d likely want to make a big show of it as well.

on the topic of jean simply being mistaken because he’s not very familiar with u.s. law, i do doubt that’s the case. even disregarding all of the above, from what i’ve found (which was admittedly not very in depth research) the french don’t typically have posthumous trials either. the only one that i really know about is the posthumous retrial of joan of arc, which isn’t really relevant towards the questions surrounding nathan’s trial.

i’ve honestly really been enjoying getting to talk about nathan and his trial, he’s really not gonna let a silly thing like death stop him from causing problems lol

-🐏🐏

YEAH!! I love this

It feels like if Nathan had like... killed one person that nobody knew maybe they could do without a trial. But from our knowledge he's been killing people for YEARS. Hundreds of people. He has so much blood on his hands that I feel like if for any reason but the sake of the victims/the victims families, they'd have to do something to recognise that he killed all of those people

And the point about having to convict Nathan in order to convict his gang for aiding and abetting is so interesting. I guess I'd never really thought that there would be any sort of trial or hearing over it, but I think considering the circumstances, surely there'd have to be something. Like... how many people were killed in the raid? His team permanently disfigured Neil, too, and he lived through his attempted murder, so maybe that's some sort of motivation to convict anyone they possibly can. I really have no idea at all!!! I'm SO curious to see how this all pans out now.

[serenpedac]

Tulsi

For the prompt "Forget" of the first day of F Hauville Appreciation Week, @happyhauvillebday ^^

Words: ~1500 Rating: Gen Relationship: Female detective/Farah Hauville Warnings: None

A scent brings back memories from Farah's life in the Echo World, memories she thought she had forgotten.

Read on Ao3 here or below.

“Thank you for your help.”

One corner of Jada’s mouth curls in a smile. “Even though I couldn’t tell you anything?”

Gabi shrugs as she gets up from the chair. “No information is also information. It means we can confirm they haven’t tried to make contact here.”

“Wise words. Good luck with tracking those fae down.” Jada accompanies Gabi and Farah to the backdoor when the bell of the antique shop rings. “If you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course, see you later, Jada,” Gabi says.

Farah only gives a subdued smile. She has been unusually quiet this entire visit. At first, Gabi thought it was because she didn’t know Jada and was giving Gabi the lead on one of her first official assignments as an agent, but as the conversation had shifted from the fae rumoured to have arrived in Wayhaven to more generic topics, Farah had remained quiet. And that is nothing like her. 

Gabi is about to ask if she’s okay when Farah halts.

Farah’s nostrils flare, her eyes growing wide. She turns to the right, where an opened door provides a glimpse into a dark room.

“Farah? Everything alright?”

Farah doesn’t seem to hear her, walking into the room as if in trance. Neatly labelled jars in various sizes are lines up against the wall, sea salt, chamomile, volcanic ash, but Farah walk past those without giving them so much as a look. Instead, she goes over to some bunches hanging from the ceiling. Herbs, Gabi realises as her eyes adjust to the gloomy room. They must be hanging there to dry. Farah reaches out a hand, nearly touching them.

“You have good taste.” At Jada’s voice, Farah snaps her hand back. A guilt-stricken look crosses her face, but Jada offers her a warm smile from her place in the doorway. “That’s tulsi, it’s one of my favourites.”

Jada’s loose clothes brush Gabi’s bare arm as she passes her to join Farah.

“Would you like—” 

“Sorry. I— I have to go.” Farah rushes out, past Gabi and through the hallway. The backdoor falls shut with a loud thud right after.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what is going on,” Gabi says. 

Jada gives her a thoughtful look. “There’s nothing to apologise for. Let me know if there’s anything I can do, okay?” She touches the tulsi that is swaying lightly. “I will keep some on hand just in case.”

She finds Farah down the street, browsing the magazines displayed in front of the general store.

“Did you see this?” She points at a glossy cover of a fashion magazine. “I just know that Nate has something exactly like this in his closet.”

“Ehm, Farah…”

Without looking away from the model on the cover, Farah continues, “Do you think he’ll let me borrow it? It’ll be too large, sure, but I can work with that. Oversized is also a cool look, don’t you agree?” 

Gabi places her hand on Farah’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“Sure!” Farah’s smile falters when she meets Gabi’s eyes. “I mean, maybe not really…” Her shoulders drop as she puts the magazine back in the stand. “Wanna walk for a bit?”

Clouds chase across the sky, and Gabi draws her jacket tighter against the wind. The gusts of autumn chill don’t seem to bother Farah, who stares into the middle-distance as they walk in the direction of the forest and the warehouse. Once they reach th edge of the forest and the street turns into an unpaved path, Farah’s shoulders sag and she sighs.

“She reminded me of my mother.” Farah gestures back towards where they’d come from. “Not that my mother was like— I mean, Jada is a different person of course, but the way she spoke and just… You know, the aura she has, calm and wise and, well, you know.” 

For a moment, Gabi remains quiet. Farah talking about her mother is a rare occasion, and while a part of her wants to know everything about Farah, everything about her previous life and how she came to be who she is, it’s not hard to see how these memories hurt Farah. And hurting her is the last thing she wants. So, Gabi merely hums and brushes her hand against Farah’s. When Farah doesn’t withdraw, she takes her wind-chilled hand in hers. 

It seems to be enough, because Farah moves a little closer, until their shoulders touch, and continues talking. “And then there was the— those herbs.”

“Tulsi.”

“Yes, tulsi.” Farah says the words as if she’s tasting it on her tongue. “We didn’t call it that, but it’s the same, I think. No, I know it’s the same. She used to…” She swallows, her voice growing very quiet as she continues. “She used to make tea with it.”

“Ah.” A look to the side to try to determine what Farah may be thinking shows that she is frowning. Not at Gabi, she doesn’t think so, but at herself or maybe a memory. Gently, Gabi rubs her thumb over the back of Farah’s hand.

“No. No, that’s not it.” She shakes her head. “The thing is that I forgot. She used to have that tea all the time and I forgot what it even smelled like.” Her eyes are brimming with tears. “If I could forget something like that, something she did almost every day, how much more do you think I’ll forget? How much did I already forget?”

A tear rolls down her cheek, followed by another, and something in Gabi’s chest constricts. “Ow, Farah.” 

She wraps Farah in a hug, holding her tight. Her body shaking from sobbing, Farah returns the hug, face buried against Gabi’s chest. 

Being around Farah it’s so easy to forget that she used to have another life in another world. Sure, there are glimpses here and there—small things she says or slips of tongue—but with how fully and eagerly she throws herself into living life, the fact that she never chose to be here, that she was ripped from her old life, is easily overlooked.

Running her hands up and down Farah’s back, Gabi feels tears burning in her own eyes.

What else did she have to leave behind? How many memories does she have about things and people that no one here will ever entirely understand?

Farah’s neat braids press against Gabi’s cheek. There is so much she doesn’t know and may not understand, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be here for Farah in the here and now. 

After some time, Farah’s sobbing subsides and she relaxes into Gabi with a sigh. They stay like that, Farah’s head tucked against Gabi’s neck, her breathing steadying a little more with each inhale and exhale. 

Eventually, Farah draws back. Looking at the spot where she’d been leaning against just now, she wrinkles her nose. “Sorry I ruined your jacket, babe.”

Gabi stops the soothing circles she’s been rubbing on Farah’s back to cup Farah’s tear-streaked face. “No ‘sorry’ needed for that. You can ruin my jacket whenever.” She briefly touches her lips to Farah’s forehead. “I’m here for you, Farah.”

Farah sniffles, golden eyes threaded with red and shimmering, but the hint of a smile lifts up the corners of her mouth. “Always, yeah?”

“Always.”

*~*~*~*~*

Some days later they’re sitting in Gabi’s apartment, Gabi leaning back between Farah’s legs, while outside the trees are swaying in the wind and raindrops patter against the window. Her eyes are closed, all her attention on Farah’s fingers running through her hair. With each stroke, she catches a whiff of the floral perfume Farah chose to wear. It’s bright and summery, just like her and just like the summer that is now officially over. Like a memory capsule.

“What’s it, babe?” Farah asks before Gabi even realises she has an idea.

Chewing her lip, she sits up straighter. “There’s this thing we could do, you could do.” She falls quiet. Is this really the right thing to say? What if her idea only makes things worse? Not to mention she’s unsure of how to execute her idea. But Farah gives a questioning hum, fingers carding through Gabi’s hair, waiting for her to continue. “Memories and smells are tied together very closely. A scent can trigger a certain memory, like you experienced. I was thinking you could make a collection of smells that remind you of the Echo world. That way, you can come back to them whenever you want. If you want, that is.”

For a moment, Farah stays silent and stops playing with Gabi’s hair. 

Gabi twists around so she can face her, an apology ready on her lips. She should not have been the one to bring this up. It would have been better to wait until Farah was ready and had broached it herself. But something in Farah’s expression makes her stop. Her usually bright eyes are more serious than Gabi has ever seen them, watching her with a wisdom belonging to the years she has lived, rather than the age she looks.

“I think you’re right.” She pushes aside a strand of hair from Gabi’s forehead. “Will you help me?”

Gabi exhales with relief. “Yes, I would love that.”

[stuckinapril]

u are literally so strong for being pre med. im also 21 and ive just about given up on taking the mcat and doing extracurriculars after army crawling through all the prereqs 😭 much luck to you!!!!!! praying john hopkins takes u 🙏🙏 we need more lovely, kind and genuine doctors like you and u deserve the best of the best 💖💖

Thank you my dove <3 no it’s literally the most ruthless thing ever. People don’t understand the mental stamina it takes to fulfill all facets of the application med schools expect. It’s more than a full time job—sometimes it doesn’t feel like there are enough hours in the day tbh, between doing research and volunteering and shadowing and gaining hands on experience. And don’t get me started on the mcat lmao, preparing for it feels like I’m training for the Olympics. I’m into it most days, it’s fun to be consumed by something you’re truly passionate about, but I also completely get how it predisposes all of us to frequent burnouts. Add to that the stress of meeting the still more extraordinary, still more impossible standards of elite med schools…

[the-woman-upstairs]

It’s just…so painful to watch Armand readily submit in order to obtain the love he so desperately craves. And while it’s most assuredly a manipulative tactic, it’s still one borne out of fear and desperation. He cannot lose this person he’s come to love and so will become whatever they want, do whatever they want just so they’ll stay with him. But it won’t be enough. No matter how much he acquiesces or seeks to control (himself, others, the environment), he won’t be able to make Louis stay with him in the perfect life, perfect self he built in the hopes of finally being loved. It will all crumble with Armand left alone in the rubble of what he created, the author of his own abandonment.

[lovecoredeity]

a little cat porcelain doll character I stayed up all night drawing. The inspirations for this design are: dolls (duh), a porcelain “tea party” bracelet I made and kintsugi! I didn’t give them clothes because my attempts weren’t going to way i liked. Let me know how you’d dress them!

♡ if you like my art please consider buying me a kofi ♡

[sweetandglovelyart]

Knightfall in Dream Land - Page 4

Meta Knight shares what it was like to grow up being raised by Nightmare.

[algolagniaa]

help why is no one ever normal about me