#the name to them is subject to change though

[unlikeable-female-character]

Old Man Logan x Nurse!Reader - the birthday

I’m really having so much fun writing these two! There’s no really story as such, just them being together.

Warnings - smut, unprotected sex, probably multiple spelling mistakes.

You didn’t often go out on dates but Logan decided, as it was your birthday soon, he should do the decent thing and take you out somewhere a little more sophisticated than the diner or a coffee shop.

‘You don’t need to,’ you said, watching him scrolling through restaurant options on his phone. He grunted and continued scrolling. You were sat opposite him at your kitchen table, the remains of breakfast littering the space between you both. You rested your head on your hand and looked him.

‘Did I ever tell you how cute you look in those glasses?’

He looked at you over the top of said glasses, eyebrows raised.

‘Cute?’

You hummed and nodded. Logan shook his head and let out a small laugh.

‘I’ve been called many things, sweetheart, but cute ain’t one of them.’

‘Well…’ you began, getting up and moving to sit on his lap, ‘I think you are so you’re just going to have to put up with it..ooh!’ You said changing the subject and pointing at his phone, ‘that one!’

Logan looked at the name of the restaurant you were pointing at.

‘Really?’

‘Yep! I’ve been there before and they do the most amazing tiramisu I’ve ever had. It was just…ugh,’ and you closed your eyes at the thought of it.

Logan chuckled

‘Well if it gets that reaction out of you I guess that’s the one’

‘Thank you,’ you smiled and kissed him.

‘Anything for my girl,’ he said and kissed you back

‘Girl though,’ you snorted. Logan quirked a brow at you.

‘I’m going to be…forty,’ you said suddering, ‘hardly in the first flush of youth.’

Logan out his phone down and took off his glasses

‘Sweetheart, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, I don’t care how old you are. Fuck, I’m nearly 200 years old. I think you can cope with being forty.’

You pouted and played with his shirt collar

‘I doubt you even remember being forty,’ you mumbled.

‘I don’t. But back then forty was a damn good age to get to. Doesn’t life begin at forty now?’

‘Fifty is the new forty,’ you shrugged, then thought, ‘I think…’

‘Point is,’ Logan said, placing a gentle finger under your chin, ‘however old you get you’ll always be my, what did you say, controversially young girlfriend? That’s got to count for something, right?’

He kissed you and you smiled into it.

‘It does.’

***

‘I hope you bought her a suitable present?’

Charles had been following Logan around as he got himself ready, in his words, making sure he didn’t ’fuck this up’. He’d parked himself in the door to Logan’s bedroom and passed a very critical eye over every aspect of his outfit for the evening (his usual suit but now dry cleaned, a crisp clean white shirt and a less funereal tie). He’d even trimmed his beard and strong armed Caliban into giving him a cursory haircut. Charles watched Logan as he sat on the edge of the bed, cleaning his shoes.

‘Well?’ Charles asked

‘Well what?’ Logan mumbled, concentrating on buffing the toe of his shoe.

‘What did you get her?’

‘None of your business’

Charles moved himself into the room a little further, peering at the shoe in Logan’s hand. Logan stopped his polishing and sighed before looking up at Charles.

‘What?’

Charles shrugged.

‘Just making sure you’re doing it properly.’

Logan glared at him

‘I was in the army - several armies - if I know how to do anything it’s shine a pair of shoes.’

Charles huffed and wheeled himself away. He rarely came into Logan’s room and was taking the opportunity to snoop.

‘You never told me what you bought her,’ he said, poking a finger at a few of the small items on top of a chest of drawers.

‘That’s because it’s none of your business,’ Logan repeated, finally satisfied with his shoes and putting them on.

Charles pulled a face and turns to him

‘I can just read your mind you know.’

Logan sighed.

‘I know’

He looked over a Charles who had a small smile on his weathered face.

‘I think she will love it. It’s very beautiful.’

Logan nodded

‘Glad you approve.’

***

Walking into the restaurant on Logan’s arm made you feel ten feet tall. He was so handsome in his suit and he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Your dress, a deep blue, fitted to your waist with a full skirt made fuller with a few layers of netting underneath made you feel fancy as fuck after spending endless days in scrubs. You even slipped on a pair of heels, glad of Logan’s arm to hold as you were more out of practise in them than you thought.

You were seated and you both started to peruse the menu. When your waiter asked what you would like to drink you were surprised that Logan asked for water. Nothing more. You smiled at him softly. You’d noticed he’d not been drinking as much lately and Caliban had confirmed to you that yes indeed the amount of whisky bottles he was throwing away had indeed diminished.

‘Did you ask him to cut down?’ He asked.

You shook your head.

‘Nope. Haven’t even talked to him about it. I don’t think he’d be exactly receptive.’

Caliban nodded in agreement. He’d tried speaking to Logan about his drinking and nearly got a claw in the gut for it. You knew you’d never elicit that reaction from him but at the same time it was a delicate subject and you weren’t sure how to broach it. Clearly you didn’t need to. You reached across the table and took Logan’s hand giving it a soft squeeze. Logan looked up from the menu.

‘Just wanted you to know I’m proud of you,’ you smiled.

Logan never replied but just looked at you, then gave a quick nod of the head and went back to the menu. You bit your lip and sniffed back a tear. This man, this often times infuriatingly taciturn man could floor you by saying more with one nod than most people said in a hundred thousand words. You were not sure what fate brought him into your life but you knew that your heart ached at the thought of the Time Before Logan.

Over the meal you chatted quietly, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere, the murmur from other diners. Logan chided you for eavesdropping on conversations from other tables, then found himself filling you in on a particularly juicy piece of gossip being passed around the staff that he’d heard on the way back from the bathroom.

At times you would look up from your plate, a comfortable silence having descended and see Logan just looking at you. He took you in, his eyes scanning every aspect of your face. He looked like a man who couldn’t quite believe that all of this was happening to him and at some point he’d wake up. You squeezed his hand to let him know that you were entirely real and entirely his.

The tiramisu was as gorgeous as you remembered and when Logan informed the waiter it was your birthday he arranged for an extra piece for you to take home with you.

‘That my present, huh?’ you smiled.

‘Sure is, sweetheart,’ he grinned back, ‘didn’t want you to get spoiled’

You hummed and licked the last of your dessert from the spoon.

‘Well maybe I like being spoiled did you ever think of that, old man?’

Logan sat back in his chair and smirked

‘I unblocked your sink for you last weekend. Seems greedy to want anything else’

Your hand went to your chest and you mock gasped then said

‘But seriously where’s my present, gimme!’ And made a grabby hands motion towards him.

Logan laughed and reached into his jacket pocket, handing you a small box.

‘Happy birthday darlin’’ he said, reaching over and taking your hand, kissing your fingers

You smiled and pulled at the messily tied ribbon (clearly Logan had wrapped this himself). Inside the box lay a silver bangle, about a centimetre wide, faint, delicate engravings of flowers winding their way around the surface.

‘Oh Logan,’ you breathed, ‘it’s beautiful’.

It shone in the candlelight from the table and you watched the engraving sparkle as you moved it around. Then you noticed something on the inside of the bangle. Logan watched as you read what was written there and was shocked when you burst into tears. He was at your side in an instant.

‘Baby what’s wrong?’ He asked

You waved a hand at him.

‘Nothing. Nothing is wrong. It’s the most perfect thing. You’re perfect.’ You took his face in your hands and kissed him. You didn’t realise you had both become the focus of attention until you heard a few soft ‘awwww’s coming from the other diners. Logan, embarrassed now, sat back in his own seat.

Engraved around the inside of the bangle, almost too small to see, it read ‘I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest’. In Logan’s neat handwriting. The skill it must have taken to do it blew you away. Then the fact that Logan has remembered a conversation you’d had with Charles - not him, but Charles - where you were discussing Shakespeare and you were testing him on what he could remember. You didn’t recall Logan even being in the room. It was a line from Much Ado About Nothing, spoken by Beatrice to Benedict and you had always loved it. You sighed as you told Charles how you’d simply melt if a man ever said that to you.

Now…one had.

Logan took the bangle and slipped it over your hand. It fitted perfectly. He took your hand and brought it to his lips again.

‘I love you,’ he said, quietly.

‘I love you back,’ you said.

Logan felt in that moment as terrified as he ever had. This life that he had been living with you, the fear of it disappearing it made him want to run, to protect you by leaving. Take Charles and Caliban, go further into the desert, keep you safe. Then he looked at you. Looking back at him across the table, the candlelight shining on your hair, your eyes still glistening with tears. Happy tears. His head was telling him to run run run but his heart…oh his heart. There truly was none left to protest. He’d felt like this before, of course, but somehow this time it was different. It was more. You nagged him and badgered him and made him clean up after himself, scolded him for being grumpy to Charles and mean to Caliban. And it made him want to change, to be kinder. Those days when you took him to bed and soothed away the pain with the sheer power of your love for him. It wasn’t even sex, it was just him in your arms, being held.

You looked at Logan looking at you.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ You said

He looked at you for a moment longer then smiled, his hand reaching out to touch, tangling his fingers with yours.

‘Not sure my thoughts are worth that much, sweetheart.’

‘They are to me.’

There, you did it again. You…cared. You loved and you broke through that wall he had tried so hard to put up but you simply refused to let him build.

After paying, you walked slowly hand in hand back to where Logan had parked. Your plan was to take Logan back to yours and to ravish him, give him a proper thank you for the evening and your gift. Logan, it seemed, had other ideas. As you walked along you felt his hand on your ass and he suddenly stopped to nuzzle your neck.

‘Logaaan!’ You whined, ‘we’re in the middle of the street!’

‘Don’t care,’ came the muffled reply as he squeezed your backside and pressed kisses to your collar bone, ‘can smell you. Been smellin’ you all night.’

‘Okay…’ you said as he released you from a kiss, ‘that really isn’t the turn on you think it is.’

Logan grinned against your neck.

‘Whatever you say baby….as soon as I said that it got stronger.’

‘Damn…,’ you whispered, ‘foiled again’

***

Reaching the limo, you both climbed in the back. Logan had parked in a corner of a lot and there were few other cars left. It didn’t take many seconds before you were on each other again.

‘You sure you want to do this here?’ Logan asked breathlessly. That he was asking you this while unzipping his pants and pushing them down made you feel this was an entirely rhetorical question. Your completely not rhetorical answer was to pull him further in top of you, while pulling up the skirt of your dress, grabbing his hand and thrusting it against your covered cunt. He growled, seemingly pleased with your answer.

You felt his fingers push the fabric aside and plunge inside you, while you reached over to pull down his underwear, freeing his cock and taking hold of it, giving it a few strokes.

‘I want…I want to see when you fuck me,’ you gasped, his fingers still working inside you, ‘I want to watch you going inside me’

Logan sat back, then manuovered himself onto his knees on the floor of the limo. In one swift motion, he had moved you round so your bottom was perched just at the edge of the seat. The frills of your underskirt were proving to be an incumberance. Logan looked at you and raised one fist. You watched as one claw appeared and he quirked a brow at you.

‘Do it…’ you sighed and you watched as he shredded the fabric of your skirt. You loved this dress but this…Logan doing this…it made you even wetter and you didn’t care if he shredded every item of clothing you owned.

Skirt and underwear now dispensed with, Logan pulled you towards him once more. You raised your head and looked down your body at where Logan’s cock was slowly, slowly being fed into you.

‘Oh god…oh god Logan…..’ you didn’t want to stop watching but you couldn’t help closing your eyes and arching your back as he pushed further in. He stilled, you both did, the only sound your breathing. No matter how many times the two of you fucked, it always seemed to take you by surprise how big he was but also how easily you could accommodate him.

You felt Logan start to move and opened your eyes. He was staring down where you joined, watching with half lidded eyes as he pushed in and pulled back. You watched too, the wetness of your arousal evident on his cock, even in the dim light. You opened you legs wider, all the better to take more of him. Logan groaned and snaked an arm under your waist, pulling you up to hold you against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, tongues messily tangling with each other. Logan continued to pump himself into you, you gripping fistfuls of his jacket and you felt him hitting that sweet spot inside of you. He was trailing hot kisses up your neck, breathing softly at the spot just under your ear, the spot that he knew made you shiver with delight. You felt him smile against your skin.

‘That’s it baby,’ he growled, ‘gonna come for me?’

He kissed you again, his nose bumping against yours as he moved his head. That nose…the way he ran it up the side of your neck, nuzzling under your jaw, sometimes that alone could nearly make you come.

Your legs wrapped more tightly around him as he thrust harder and faster into you. Even though you could feel him inside, hitting you just right over and over you needed more. You grabbed his hand and thrust it between you

‘Please Logan…touch me. Make me come,’ you whined.

He swallowed another kiss and another moan and worked at your clit as he continued to pump his cock into you. You couldn’t remember another man who had made you so dizzy with lust as Logan did. He always always made you come, made it his mission, instantly knew when you were faking it and wouldn’t relent until you were completely undone. If his girl wanted him to touch her he touched her.

‘Can I come inside you?’ Logan groaned.

You nodded and whined in assent. It wasn’t usual, Logan was normally meticulous about wearing a condom but tonight, who the fuck cared.

You could feel your release building, the wet sounds of Logan fucking into you and rubbing your clit made you even wetter.

‘Don’t…stop….please don’t stop,’ you begged.

Logan, who had no intention of stopped, grabbed at your thigh.

‘You like that baby?’ He groaned, ‘you like me fucking you likely this?’

You didn’t reply, you couldn’t. Your world had become reduced to nothing but the feel of Logan’s big cock pumping in and out of your hungry cunt.

‘I’m gonna come, baby,’ he breathed, his hips beginning to lose their rhythm, two three last hard thrusts and you could feel him come inside you. You clenched around him, letting out a breathy scream as you came too, both of you entirely gone with the sensation. You think you screamed Logan’s name when you came but it may just have been one big noise. This was not elegant. It was messy and sweaty and sticky and beautiful and felt so fucking good.

When you were finally on your way home, Logan’s jacket tied around your waist as a makeshift skirt, you reached over and rested your hand on his leg. You didn’t speak, Logan just drove, you just watching him drive. If this was what being forty was going to be like maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

[r0seb100d]

hihi sweetheart! 🫂 i adore your writing and your moodboards, i love looking at them when they appear on my feed! i'm not sure if your taking requests, but if you are, i was wondering if i could request a hippie, boho, free spirit, 60s + 70s icon, whatever you wish to call it, reader x dallas winston,  where the reader just stands out from everyone because she doesn't fit in either of the greaser or soc stereotypes and that's what draws dallas to her (not in a cringey way though). a small interaction between them would be cute!

i rarely ever see fics where the reader isn't a pretty pink coquette soc, or a greaser who wears baby-tees and cowgirl boots. don't get me wrong they are extremely cute aesthetics and i still adore reading those fics (and, i know it's somewhat book accurate), but they just never fit my vibe, if that makes sense? i've asked several writers before but they were unsure how to write it, but i have a feeling you could do it beautifully! (no pressure though!) LOVE YA! 💝

Thank you for the request, I hope I did this justice and you enjoy <3 🤍

Warnings: fem!reader

A lust for life

Hopping out of the passenger seat of your friend’s Mustang, your cream, flare-sleeved dress was harshly blown by the wind as soon as your platform sandals hit the ground.

Despite your friend’s complaints, you wanted to make a quick stop at the gas station, already exhausted from the long trip across the desert roads. The two of you were heading to a small music festival, excited to spend time out in the sun listening to rock and roll bands with an ice-cold drink in hand, dancing around with no care in the world.

You weren’t exactly late, but you were also short on time, which is why your friend insisted on making as few stops as possible, but with your incessant begging, she basically had no say in the matter.

Hurrying over to the small station, you quickly used the restroom and then went to pick up some cherry gum and a coke, but in your rush to get back, you found yourself knocking into a sturdy, leather-clad body. 

You immediately spun around and went to apologise to whoever it was; however, they spoke before you could even get a proper look at their face.

“Watch it, man.”

Looking up, you were met with an undeniably gorgeous face. Rough with a sheen of sweat and dark brows furrowed together as he peered down at you in irritation.

“I’m sorry.”

You mumbled, really not in the mood to start anything at the moment, especially not with someone as tough-looking as him.

“I just don’t want no broads runnin’ into me.”

At his comment, you scowled. Why was he being such a dick?

“I said I was sorry; you don’t need to be so rude.”

"Yeah, well, you just get goin’ to your little soc mustang over there."

He pointed at your friend's Mustang parked in the corner, crimson doors shining in the sunlight.

“I ain’t a soc, asshole, we found that car in an abandoned lot and fixed it up ourselves.”

He looked taken aback by this, his cold expression faltering. He really hadn’t been expecting you to call him out or to find out that you had mended a broken-down car. He tried to swiftly change the subject.

“Hm, so where ya headin’ then?”

“Segue really isn’t your thing, huh?”

He smirked.

“Hey, I’m just curious.” You told him the name of the festival and some of the bands you were going to see, and he found himself increasingly fascinated by you. He couldn’t categorise you like the other girls he had met. Not all stuck up like the socs and not roughened out like the greasers. You had your own flow, and you seemed pretty cool, and he would be lying if he said you weren’t beautiful, adorned in unique jewellery and bright blue eyeshadow, your eyes lighting up when talking about your favourite bands.

“So what’s your name?”

You told him and then asked for his. Dallas. Dallas Winston. It suited him, honestly, and though you probably shouldn’t have still been talking to the guy who was an ass at first, you couldn’t pull yourself away from him. 

The two of you slowly headed over to the till; Dallas asked for a pack of Marlboros before taking the items from your hands and placing them on the counter whilst pulling a five-dollar bill out of his pocket.

“Oh – you really don’t have to.”

“S’okay, I was kind of a jerk back there; let me make it up to you.”

Dallas collected his change and placed a hand on your lower back, guiding you through the store, the action making you feel giddy. 

“Well, don’t wanna keep your friend out there waitin’.”

You swallowed, realising that you had to say goodbye, feeling exposed even in the dim, flickering lights of the gas station.

“Yeah, it was nice meeting you, Dallas.”

“Nice meetin’ you too, doll."

He nodded at you, and you jogged back over to your friend’s car, her eyes rolling in impatience.

“What took you so damn long?”

“Oh. Queue was long.”

You lied through your teeth, settling into the worn leather seat whilst gazing back at the window in longing, a strange pit forming in your stomach.

Before she could shift out of the parking space, a knock at your window startled you.

It was Dallas; your heart jumped, and you immediately rolled the window down.

“Hey.”

He crouched down and folded his arms on the car door.

“You forgot your gum.”

He smirked at you, his breath smelling like menthol cigarettes.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see ya around.”

With that, he sauntered off back to wherever he came from, his words confusing you. See you around? Where?

Looking down at your gum, you noticed a messy scrawl of numbers on the back and a “call me – D.W.”

“So the line was long, huh?”

Your friend shook her head as you grinned to yourself.

Though just an hour later when her Mustang broke down, it was clear as to whose number you’d be dialling on the rickety payphone on the side of the road…

♱ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♱ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♱ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♱ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♱ . ݁₊ ⊹ .

౨ৎ 846 words ౨ৎ

Taglist (comment or dm to be added!) : @rhea-is-bored-again @twobit-cade2095 @johnnycadesslut

[aplaceinthedark]

chapter 8: SPENT AGES losing SLEEP

Summary: The Appalachian Mountains hide numerous monsters, and it's up to Taylor and the Bad Omens to prevent them from causing any harm. 

Word Count: 2.1k+

CW: supernatural themes, witchcraft

This is RPF, and thus will contain real people, but names and events will be changed. If this bothers you too much, then please leave this temple without causing harm. 

Divider by @saradika-graphics

An hour later, Nick stood in our bedroom, peering at something on the ceiling I couldn't see. “It makes no sense,” he muttered, barely audible except to me. “This house is warded against evil spirits. I made sure of it.” 

He was referring to just after we met, when he secretly under the cover of night spelled my house to keep me safe from anything in the woods. When I became aware of his paranormal world, he put more in place. I hadn't known that it included anti-spirit protection, like it was some kind of home insurance. 

I had finally divulged seeing the shadow in the library parking lot, somehow equating it to today's appearance. We had even lumped in the shadow that had been at the edge of the property a few weeks ago, though something nagging in me said that it felt different. I just chalked it up to fear clouding my judgement. 

Even more frustrating to Nick was the silence coming from the forest. He had tried to call for Noah multiple times, but his attempts were as fruitful as mine. He even tried casting his senses out, but he found nothing. Like Noah wasn't even out in the forest.

“That's not like him,” Nick had mumbled, casting his eyes towards me as if he expected me to not be looking at him. He quickly averted his eyes when he saw that I was indeed looking, but not fast enough for me to be unable to see the darkness in them. 

I should've known that the plan would fail. 

Nick had also told me that the ritual worked. He couldn't feel any rot or decay, and that the woods felt… healthy. I wanted to crack a joke about how forest conservation had been solved with three orgasms, but I could tell Nick was still sore about the subject. 

In the present, I watched Nick place new protection spells and banishment wards. Jerry, now pleased as punch that he had essentially saved his parent from a ghost-lady, purred loudly on my lap. Though he had only just rammed his head into a wall, I still gave him pets and treats.

“Could it be something else?” I asked. 

“Maybe. Some things just don't add up,” he said. He closed his eyes and sighed out loud. “There. All done.” He pretended to dust his hands off.

“I feel safer already,” I said, even though I couldn't feel anything different.

“Oh, hush, you,” he said, waving his hand at me.

“Do you need to suck down on something green?” I asked teasingly. I neatly dodged the sock he threw at me. 

“No, I'm fine,” Nick said as he reached back and pulled his shirt off. He pulled back the covers on the bed and neatly slid in.

“What were you doing earlier, before everything happened?” I asked, finally getting the chance. 

“Well, firstly, I was dividing which pots were gonna be used for my Practice and which ones were gonna be for other stuff. Then I was getting the shed ready to be my workspace.” 

Late last fall, I had stated that a project I had wanted to do for this year was to tear down the old shed on the edge of our backyard. Nick intervened by mentioning that he could turn it into a place where he could make his poultices and oils and other stuff instead. I had agreed with him because all the plants he had brought with him when he moved in nearly gave me a panic attack. They had taken up so much space, and the cats kept kicking the soil out of the pots. After our first fight as a couple, and my subsequent meltdown, Nick had to help me unlearn some of the things my parents had instilled into me. 

“You remember what we promised?” I asked, slipping under the covers.

“That I'm supposed to teach you how to practice?” He said. “Of course I haven't.”

I let out a tiny sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“I’m not going back on that promise,” he reassured me as I slipped in next to him. I felt overdressed with my shorts and threadbare shirt.

As I snuggled next to him, I said “Thank you” into a clear patch of olive skin. 

Between his even breathing and the two cats purring on either side of us, it didn't take long for me to be lulled to sleep. But one thing still bothered me until I slipped into oblivion:

Where was Noah?

NICHOLAS

It had taken a little bit for Taylor to go to sleep, as if they were restless. Nicholas couldn't blame them, seeming as they were confronted by some sort of spectre. 

He had gone over the house three times, poking and prodding at the protection spells he had placed and renewed constantly. And the house wasn't haunted before they moved in; it wasn't haunted when Noah and his mom lived there. He had only just spread the rumor that it was haunted, and what good did that do?

Well, besides bringing Taylor to him. 

When Nicholas was absolutely sure that Taylor was in deep sleep and wouldn't be waking up for anything, he slowly got out of the bed. He got redressed and quietly walked out to the front porch, stealing one of his Granny's crochet blankets to take with him.

It was nearly three in the morning, much to Nicholas’ surprise, but that worked for him. It was almost Offering Time. It was almost like clockwork, where Noah would pick up whatever offering Taylor had placed on the silver plate. Except unsurprisingly, it wasn’t Noah who loped out of the woods.

Nick shifted from the white Grim to his human body. “You’re up late again,” Nick said from the steps.

For some reason, his words aggravated Nicholas. “He couldn't come here himself?” He asked. “He had to send you down here instead?”

Nick held his hands up in defense. “Hey, don't shoot me. I haven’t even seen him in a few days,” he said. 

The fact that Nick was here instead of Noah felt like another piece of the puzzle sliding home to Nicholas. “So where is he, then?” he asked. 

Nick seemed to ignore Nicholas as he stepped onto the porch, his nose lifting at whatever Taylor had left as an offering. “Are those their taco wontons? Oh, fuck me–”

Nicholas stepped into Nick's path. “What's his deal?” He pressed.

He caught the briefest of flashes of anger in Nick's eyes as well as a low warning growl, but it was gone as Nick shrugged. “He went up to Stony Man, dude. I didn't ask why.”

Stony Man. The place was a private, almost sanctuary-like place for Noah. Nicholas had tried to go up there once, but the journey up the mountain almost did him in. He had stayed long enough to get his True Name and was quick to journey back down.

If Noah had retreated up to there, then that meant he really was troubled. And he now had a good feeling he knew why. 

He stepped aside to let Nick pass, who was quick to wolf down half of the offering. A cruel part of him wanted to take away the rest, to starve Noah of the offering. The power of the thought took him by surprise and horrified him. No pettiness was worth the danger that would put Taylor in.

“You alright?” Nick asked, his mouth full.

Nicholas let out his anger in a single huff. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. He then stuck a cigarette in his mouth.

The two Nicks sat in silence on the front porch for a bit as they listened to life happening in the woods. It was only broken up when Nick wrapped the remaining wontons in foil. “Are you taking those to Jolly or Noah first?” Nicholas asked. 

"Well, Jolly, cuz Noah hasn't said anything about them.”

"He hasn't talked to you? At all?" 

“Jolly and I haven't seen him since the ritual happened. I only know he went up to Stony Man because that's where his trait went.” Nick shrugged.

The anger was bubbling in Nicholas' stomach again. “He needs to get over himself," he muttered to himself. 

“Hey man, maybe he needs time to recover from–” 

"From what?" Nicholas snapped. "From getting my partner for a night? When there's shit happening down here?"

He immediately regretted the outburst, as Nicki's hazel eyes widened. He was pretty sure he had also been a little too loud, as he heard a sound from inside the house that was undoubtedly one of the cats being startled. But he didn't apologize. 

“What's happened here?” Nick asked. 

Nicholas sighed, and told Nick about Taylor's shadow. When he got to the part where the shadow had been inside their house, Nick's face paled until it was almost the color of his fur. "You know what I'm talking about? 

“Well... I don't know if it's the same Thing, but there was something my mom told me when I had kissed a girl who wasn't my first girlfriend. About a woman in black who scared men who were cheating on their wives.”

When Nicholas only squinted in response, Nick blundered on. “If the Woman in Black saw you outside, she'd scare you into going back to your girl, or kill you if she caught you cheating again.”

“Besides the similarity in clothing, what does she have to do with this?” Nicholas asked. 

“Because I found two dead guys in the woods, and I know one of them liked to cheat on his wife. They'd go camping every time he did it, and would brag about it. Loudly.”

“But Taylor didn't cheat. I agreed to it. I was a cuck without actually getting to be a cuck.” 

"I don't know man! Maybe she doesn't see the... technicality of it. But I didn't even know she was a Thing.” 

But none of us believed the Watcher of the Woods was a Thing, either, Nicholas finished Nick's sentence in his mind. 

“Do you think those men were killed by a Thing?” he asked. 

"I know they had to be. One guy's head was clean ripped off.” 

This was bad. Had they done the ritual to banish one evil, only to raise another? And as Nicholas had held back the fact that the ritual wasn't a permanent solution - that it had to be performed once a year - he was certain now that it shouldn't be performed again if it might piss off some kind of vengeful ghost that- 

“What're we gonna do?” 

Nicki's voice cut through Nicholas' thoughts. Noah was MIA, which meant that their chain of command, as loose of a term as it was, fell to him. Despite him being the only human of the Circle, the others listened to him. “Keep an eye out for now. I'll feel out the forest for anything,” he said, pressing his cigarette butt into the ashtray. "And drag Noah down the mountain by his antlers if you have to. We have to have a talk."

He could see Nicki's apprehensiveness towards confronting the Watcher of the Woods. If the two came to blows, Noah would obviously win. Nicholas has watched them wrestle with each other before. But Nick silently began stuffing the leftovers into his mouth, walking out into the front yard before transforming into the Grim. With a look back towards Nicholas, he bounded into the woods. 

Nicholas gave him a moment before standing up, stretching his tired limbs. He still felt wide awake, but he would go back to bed in only a moment. He closed his eyes and let out a breath, extending his mind through the roots in the ground. 

He had done this twenty-four hours ago, when he had been woken up suddenly. He hadn't felt anything then, and he wasn't feeling anything now–

He stopped suddenly, and turned towards the door. He quickly opened it, and with a soft yelp, Taylor tumbled forward onto the porch.

"You should be sleeping,” Nicholas scolded softly. "You have work tomorrow." 

“I know,” they said quietly. They pushed themself back onto their knees and looked up at him. If it was any other scenario, he might've thought it was hot. “But I heard you talking, and maybe Nick might've heard something about–”

“Come on, forget about him.” Nicholas held out his hands, and Taylor took them so he could pull them up onto their feet. “Let's go back to bed, yeah?” 

Taylor puffed out their cheeks, which he knew was their way of showing frustration, so he kissed their forehead and each cheek until they sighed and turned around, leading them back to the bedroom.

As Taylor once again settled against Nicholas' chest, he made up his mind. Either Noah had to come down from his mountain, or he’d go up there himself. Either way, they were going to have to have a talk.

And either way, it was going to be about Taylor.

tysm for reading! If you enjoyed this, please reblog to share the word of the Revered Father. Next chapter coming soon.

Featured Creatures

@ladyveronikawrites @lilhobgobbler @deathblacksmoke @cookiesupplier @thatchickwiththecamera @roley-poley-foley @hedonists @philomenie @shilohrosechicken @comforting-madness @sitkowski @screamsinsilver @darksigns-exe @nojoyontheburn @baddestomens @poisongirl616 @lobolocaamo