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venusstorm · 1 year

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𝘽𝙪𝙢��𝙡𝙚𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙨

The time in which you gifted Bucky Barnes an adorable little keychain for his motorcycle.

ෆ Warnings: 18+ – MINORS DNI, fluff, insecurity, Bucky can’t stop lifting you up

ෆ Bucky Barnes x Reader

ෆ w/c: 1.2k

̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟

"Isn't this yours, honeybee?" Bucky questions, dangling the bright yellow bumblebee with a pastel pink heart in his hand. He inspects it carefully, turning it around before offering it back to you.

You shake your head, "It was, yea...but..."

Bucky stares at you expectantly and suddenly the entire idea sounded foolish. You couldn't help but envision him laughing at you, snorting at how ridiculous he'd look flying down the highway with your dumb keychain flapping in the wind. It'd stick out like a sore thumb against his jet-black bike, the rev of his engine alone probably sending the poor bee soaring into the clouds.

"I put it in there by accident," you laugh nervously, reaching out for the tiny bee. But his hands clenched tightly around the keychain before you could grab it.

Almost tauntingly he lets it hang in front of your face, staring at you with a half smile.

"On accident?" He hums. "So the keychain that's been on your backpack since the day I met you just somehow found its way into my birthday present?"

You shrug. "I took it off and must've misplaced it."

His eyes glimmer with question but instead of pushing further, he lets it go. He shrugs, "Okay."

Your face falls as he hands the keychain back to you. You squeeze the poor ball of fluff, trying your best not to belittle yourself for being so nervous.

It's for the best, you told yourself. I'm sure he doesn't want some weird form of "staking claim" on his bike. His buddies would make fun of him for it anyway. It's better if it stays with me. Yea. Better.

Hurriedly you try to direct your attention away from your thoughts, shoving the keychain into your pocket.

Your solemn expression brightens into excitement. "I have another surprise!"

You take Bucky's hand, leading him towards your living room which noticeably had a different ambiance than usual. He happily trails behind you, watching your joyous face with adoration.

Every time he's with you his brain goes fuzzy. You allow him to decompress, relax, and think about nothing besides the moment he's in. He craves getting off of work and coming straight to your apartment, still sweaty and dirty from working at the bar, and yet you run up and give him the biggest hug. "Hang on, let me take a shower, honeybee." But you'd ignore him, smashing your lips against his until he gives up rationalizing and allows you to strip him bare.

"I know it's kind of corny and if you'd rather go out and celebrate I completely understand. I just thought this would..."

He can't focus on your words. Not as he's looking at what you had done. Candles lit around the room, the whole place smelling of warm vanilla and cinnamon. Fairy lights twinkled around the ceiling, draping over the windows. The coffee table has been shoved to the side and in its place is a bundle of blankets and floor pillows. Balloons and streamers are scattered across the room, and finally, he zones in on the blue and white cake.

"Happy Birthday James!" it reads. He could tell that you made it because of the bright red heart dotting the i.

He whispers your name in pure disbelief.

"Yes?" You stare up at him with admiration. You truly love this man and want to do everything in your power to show it.

"C'mere, baby." Bucky scoops you up into a hug, hiking you up until your legs are wrapped around his waist. He holds you close against his chest, kissing you sweetly. "You did all this for me?"

You nod, eyes wide as he stares at your lips. A look of pure hunger ravishes you. Bucky presses his forehead against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He couldn't recall a time before you when his heart felt as if it would beat out of his chest. Nor a time when his eyes became so glazed over with pure adoration that he swore he'd cry right then and there. He was hesitant about this future, the new world that he found himself forced to live in. But the moment he saw your sweet smile for the first time, all that faded away.

"Thank you, Princess." You whimper as he whispers into your ear, his hands traveling up the Henley that you stole from his drawer. He didn't mind you stealing his clothes. The first time he caught you he handed you a pile of his shirts, begging you to take them and wear them as your own.

He kisses your shoulder softly. "Thank you for being here for me."

"For taking the time to know me and care for me."

His lips press against your neck, a soft groan rumbling within his throat. "I still remember the day we met...felt like the universe was finally giving me my happy ending."

You state his name breathlessly. "I'm supposed to be celebrating you, not the other way around."

He ignores your remark, his eyes narrowing as his brain begins to churn. "Do you trust me, sweetheart?"

You respond without hesitation. "With everything."

"And you'll always tell me the truth, right?"

You nod reassuringly.

He releases his grip on your legs, setting you back onto the ground. "So tell me what this is about." His hand shoots into your pocket, pulling out the black and yellow bee. He squeezes it in his hand before laying it out in his palm.

"I told you–"

He raises an eyebrow, "The truth."

You didn't want to come off as too clingy and you didn't want to hear Bucky reject your gift. Thank you baby but...it's a little childish. You could hear the words flowing from his lips perfectly. He'd hate it.

"I–"

Bucky pulls you closer. His eyes flooded with warmth. "Please."

"It was for your bike," you whisper. "And before you say anything. I know it's dumb...that's why I took it back."

"My bike?"

You nod wordlessly. "I thought it'd be cute if you had a little piece of me wherever you go. But the more I thought about it the more I realized how stupid it'd probably look. I mean...none of the other guys have–"

Bucky cuts you off, lifting you off the ground and back into his arms. "Oh, baby...is this what you were hiding?"

You nod sheepishly. "It's stupid."

He shakes his head. "It's perfect. You're perfect. M'gonna tie this onto it right now, honeybee. The guys are going to be so fucking jealous when they see what you got me."

Your lips broaden into a smile. "Really?"

Bucky hugs you tightly, his hand caressing your head against his shoulder. "Gotta let the whole world know I've got the most thoughtful, gorgeous person by my side. M'never taking it off, baby. It goes where I go now."

You squeal as he races into the garage with you in his arms, flicking the lights on and heading towards his bike. He sets you down gently, making a show of the keychain in his hand before attaching it to his key ring. Happily, he throws his leg over the bike, twisting the ignition. The bike roars to life and the sight of your bright yellow bee against the black exterior makes you burst out into laughter.

Bucky grins. "See? It's perfect, baby. Told you."

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fics #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes gifs #biker!bucky #biker bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #soft!bucky #honeybee x Bucky

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punkshort · 3 months

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It didn't mean anything

An I Know Who You Are drabble

Thank you anon for this request!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel finds out about your history with Ben for the first time.

Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, possessive!joel (might be a bit over the line but i got carried away, sue me), jealous!joel, edging, rough sex but turns soft (bc of course)

WC: 2.1K

A/N: this is a request I had for a series I wrote but I think it could be read on its own.

"Where's my fuckin' glasses?" Joel roared from upstairs.

"Wherever you left them last!" you shouted back from the kitchen. You were tired and just wanted to go to bed but Joel was really starting to piss you off, so you made an excuse to come down to the kitchen to cool off.

It wasn't working.

"I left 'em on my goddamn book where I always leave 'em. You were movin' shit around up here today, you must've done somethin' with 'em," you heard him snap from the depths of your shared bedroom. You rolled your eyes and dug your fingers into the back of a chair to try to ground yourself. You knew his anger was misplaced. It wasn't really about the glasses.

Tonight at dinner you made one little innocuous comment about an old flame, Ben, another resident of Jackson, completely forgetting you hadn't found the chance to tell Joel about him yet, and it was all downhill from there.

Your relationship with Joel was still new. Well, not really.

It was and it wasn't.

This part of your relationship was new. Living together, sharing your lives together, loving each other... all of that was new. The sex was not new.

So maybe it was a little bit your fault for not telling Joel about Ben sooner. But it was the middle of the goddamn apocalypse and things like that didn't really cross your mind anymore. Besides, what you had with Ben didn't mean a thing. It was for comfort and stress relief on both sides, no feelings were involved whatsoever. And if that wasn't enough, Ben was also currently in a loving, committed relationship with your mutual friend, Lisa.

Joel didn't seem to care about any of that. He was still worked up, stomping around upstairs, slamming drawers shut and muttering under his breath.

It was really fucking annoying.

His heavy footsteps thundering down the stairs was the next thing you heard and you braced yourself for more of his attitude. Storming into the kitchen, he pushed things around on the counters as if his glasses could be hidden behind the flour while you stood at the table glaring at him. When he inevitably was unsuccessful, he spun around angrily with his hands on his hips.

"You gonna help me look or you just gonna stand there?"

With your nostrils flared and your jaw clenched, you marched across the kitchen, coming to a halt directly in front of him. Without breaking eye contact, you lifted an arm above his head and plucked his glasses from his hair, then blindly dropped them on the counter.

"Well?"

His eyes shifted to the glasses and back to you as he tried to hide his embarrassment.

"I'm goin' to bed," he muttered, leaving the glasses and heading for the stairs.

You scoffed in disbelief. "What? I don't get a thank you?"

He whipped around and stalked back over to you, his reaction so fast it startled you and had you backing up against the kitchen wall.

"What else should I thank you for? Hm?" he asked lowly, bracketing both arms on the wall on either side of your head. He stared down at you, anger rolling off him in waves, eyes dark and fuming. "Should I thank you for makin' me feel like a fuckin' idiot tonight? For not tellin' me somethin' you know I shoulda known 'bout months ago?"

"I already apologized, Joel! What more do you want from me? You didn't tell me about Angie until-"

"That was different an' you know it!" he yelled, smacking the wall beside you with the flat of his hand. "We weren't together then! You weren't livin' with me, sleepin' in my bed-"

"Goddamnit, Joel! It didn't mean anything!" You were mere inches apart, your hot, angry breath fanned over his face with every word. "I-I never even think about him like that! He was the only fucking guy I knew and I just wanted to get my mind off of the end of the fucking world every now and then!"

"I don't want you seein' him," he said, his tone threatening. "Ever. You pass him in the street, you just keep walkin'. He's on fuckin' fire, it ain't your problem."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" you seethed, but the arousal was already pooling warm between your legs. "You think you can tell me what to do?"

"Yeah, I do," he said through clenched teeth, then grabbed your jaw with one of his big hands. "'Cause you're mine."

You whimpered when his mouth crashed down on yours, teeth and tongues colliding messily as he pulled you off the wall. Your fingers twisted in his flannel, tugging and pushing him this way and that, acting as if you had any fight in you whatsoever.

"Shit," you gasped when his mouth traveled down to your neck and his hand cupped your aching core through your jeans. He applied some pressure with the tip of his fingers, locating your clit with practiced ease, and you tipped your head back with a moan. Your fingers that were once wrestling with the fabric of his shirt were now lost in his hair, holding the back of his head in place so he had no choice but to suck and bite marks across your collarbone.

His fingers were moving fast over the seam of your jeans, rubbing and pinching your sex through the thick denim, dragging you to the precipice just to deny you your orgasm at the last moment by pulling his hand away.

You whined and tugged his hair as hard as you could, trying to make it hurt, but he just chuckled and straightened back up. "Turn around."

Obediently, you swiveled around and braced your hands on the counter, your breath coming in sharp, excited pants as he unbuttoned your jeans and slid them down to your knees, your underwear quickly following.

He dipped one thick finger into your folds from behind and your back instantly arched. You felt his belt digging into the flesh of your ass when he ground his hips against you and brought his mouth to your ear. "You're so fuckin' wet, baby. You like workin' me up like this?"

You bit your lip and closed your eyes when he slid his finger inside your leaking cunt. "Maybe," you whispered, then moaned when he curled his finger inside you, purposely teasing you by not giving you enough. Just as quickly as he gave you his finger, he took it away, leaving you feeling hopelessly empty again.

"I think you do. And I think you need me to remind you why you're in my bed every night 'n not his."

Your thing with Ben ended before you even arrived in Jackson, before you even knew who Joel was, so to imply he was even remotely some type of competition was ridiculous. But when you heard the jingle of his belt and the metallic zip of his jeans being undone, you decided it to point that out another time.

"Fuck!" you cried out when he entered you with one quick thrust. Your arm shot backwards, hand searching for some part of him to hold on to. His hand found yours and laced your fingers together before looping both your arms around your front, holding you close. He was breathing heavily in your ear, giving you a few moments to gather yourself and allow your walls to relax around his girth.

"Fuck," you said again, but this time it was breathier and more at ease. The initial sting was fading with every shaky breath and even though he was driven by jealousy and irrational anger, he didn't want to hurt you. He never wanted to hurt you. At the end of the day, he knew how you felt about him and that was all that mattered, so he gave you as much time as you needed before experimentally rolling his hips. You moaned his name and pushed your ass against him, urging him to continue.

With one of his hands still bonded with yours across your ribs and the other spread wide and flat over the cool counter next to your hip, he bent forward and slammed into you a little rougher, a little harder, until the mixed sounds of your skin slapping together and the lewd wetness from your pussy filled the air.

"He ever fuck you like this? Make you feel as good as I do? Huh?" he groaned into your neck. Your body jolted forward against the edge of the counter with every forceful thrust, knocking the wind out of you but you managed to shake your head and offer a weak no.

You wished you could spread your legs wider but you were restricted by the material bunched around your knees, so instead you arched your back and pushed your ass back against his hips. Again and again, you rocked your hips onto his cock, matching his rhythm as sweat began to collect on the back of your neck and the muscles in your stomach tightened. Joel flattened his tongue against your skin, drinking down your sweat with a deep moan.

"Taste so good, sweetheart. Feel s'good too... fuck - yeah, yeah - keep doin' that."

You whined and tilted your head to the side, searching for his mouth. When you found it, you hungrily slanted your lips together, tongue invading, licking past his teeth while your free hand reached back to splay wide across the side of his face.

You gasped when the tip of his cock brushed against something inside you that made your vision wobble. Your nails raked pathetically against his skin and your walls clenched around him, silently begging for more when words failed you.

"I love you," he whispered, hips still ruthlessly crashing into you, forehead pressed against your hair, hot breath panting in your ear.

"I love you, too," you mumbled back. "S-so deep like this, Joel, fuck," you whimpered, brows pinching together as you struggled for air. Your legs tensed and your eyes flashed wide open, searching for him as you felt yourself near your peak. His eyes were dark and filled with animalistic desire as he laid claim to you in the middle of your kitchen, and even though his jealousy was severely misplaced, it fanned the flames of excitement inside you.

You were his, and he was yours.

The coil snapped and you sobbed his name, body going rigid under his touch but he fucked you through it, to not only prolong your orgasm but to join you, as well.

"Oh, god," he mumbled repeatedly, his thrusts becoming sloppy, his hands flexing and breath growing ragged before pulling out and spilling himself all over your backside with a heavy groan.

Your upper body slumped across the counter, arms spread wide, eyes squeezed shut. Your legs trembled as you fought to remain upright but soon it wouldn't be your concern. Joel grabbed the nearest dish towel and cleaned you up before dragging your underwear and jeans back up, leaving them unbuttoned, before hastily doing the same to his own so he could gently lift you into his arms.

"You okay?"

You hummed and nodded sleepily against his chest. To your surprise, he bent down to scoop you up with one arm under your knees and he carried you to the couch, setting you down carefully and brushing the loose strands of hair from your face. He stayed there with you, quietly kneeling next to the couch, rubbing soothing circles over your arm, your stomach, your hips until you finally opened your eyes with a sigh. His head was resting against his forearm but he lifted it up when he heard you and gave you a little grin. You smiled back and brushed the pad of your thumb over one of his eyebrows, taking in every fine line, scar and freckle over his beautiful face.

"You don't have to be so jealous, you know. There's nothing to worry about."

He snorted and nipped at your thumb. "I know."

You bit your lip and playfully tapped the tip of his nose. "But maybe we can do that again sometime because that was really hot."

He chuckled and pressed his hands into the cushion of the couch so he could stand with a groan, fingers digging into his lower back with a wince. "You're gonna be the death of me one day."

You giggled and forced yourself to stand, not even bothering buttoning your jeans as you headed for the stairs. "You coming?" you asked him over your shoulder. He nodded.

"Lemme lock up and turn the lights off."

You yawned and continued up the steps, a little smirk pulling at your lips when you reached the top, and you paused.

"Don't forget your glasses."

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tteotlma · 4 days

Text

Whiskey and Wishful Thinking

-- unrequited love and misplaced desires

Logan/Wolverine x Reader 6.2kw(😵‍💫)

a/n: this idea has been in my head for a while now and i didn’t really edit —

TW: 18+ MDNI AFAB!Reader, alcohol abuse/intoxication, sexual content (explicit), Emotional manipulation, unrequited love, mild violence (Logan crashing into things), infidelity (emotional), sexual encounter under the influence, emotional distress/angst, mild language, p in v

—

The quiet whirring of the air conditioner filled the cavernous space of the library, its cool breeze a stark contrast to the sweltering August heat outside. You circled the poster board laid out on the worn wooden table in front of you, your fingertips ghosting over the glossy photos and carefully cut-out newspaper clippings. Your chin rested on your hand as you examined the display closely, brow furrowed in concentration.

The new semester at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was starting in a week, and you were determined to be prepared. This wasn't just about having a visually engaging classroom; it was about proving yourself. Your second year as a teacher here was right around the corner, and you still had people to impress—or maybe overshadow. The pressure to live up to the legacy of the school's illustrious faculty weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You were in the middle of rearranging a faded photo of Richard Nixon next to a more vibrant one of Mystique—a stark visual representation of the complex history you were trying to convey—when something caught your eye. A small tear in the corner of the Mystique photo made you frown. It was barely noticeable, but you knew it was there. Much like the small imperfections in your own mutation that you tried so hard to hide.

As you reached for the tape to add more photos, a thunderous crash erupted from the direction of the front door, reverberating off the mahogany bookshelves and causing the chandeliers to tinkle ominously. You startled, your elbow catching the edge of the poster board and sending a cascade of photos fluttering to the floor like autumn leaves.

"Dammit," you muttered under your breath, dropping to your knees to gather the scattered images. Each one represented hours of research and careful curation. There was Erik Lehnsherr in his prime, Charles Xavier before the wheelchair, headlines about the Mutant Registration Act—pieces of a puzzle you were trying to fit together for your students.

As you collected the last of the photos, another crash followed, accompanied by a string of muffled colorful curses that could only belong to one person: Logan.

You rose to your feet, brushing dust from your knees and straightening your top. A part of you wanted to ignore the disturbance and return to your work. After all, you weren't one of the X-Men, just a history teacher trying to make a difference in your own small way. But another part, the part that had brought you to this school in the first place, urged you to investigate.

With a last, longing look at your unfinished project, you began to walk down the corridor, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The warm wood paneling and lush carpets couldn't quite muffle Logan's gruff voice, slurred and aggravated.

"Who the hell locked the damn door?" he growled loud enough to be heard through the mahogany, followed by another thud that sounded suspiciously like a body hitting solid wood.

You rounded the corner just in time to hear Logan slam against the door again. Sighing, you approached, your hand hovering over the ornate brass doorknob.

"Logan?" you called out, trying to keep your voice steady. "The door's always locked after midnight. You know that."

There was a moment of silence, then a muffled grunt. "Oh. Right." You heard him fumbling on the other side, likely searching for keys he didn't have. "Must've... must've forgot."

You leaned closer to the door, lowering your voice. "Did you lose your keys again?"

"Didn't lose 'em," Logan grumbled, his words slurring together. "Just... misplaced 'em. Temporarily."

Rolling your eyes, you turned the lock. "I'm letting you in. But please, try to keep it down. Some of us are trying to work."

As you swung the heavy door open, the full impact of Logan's state hit you like a wave. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, more disheveled than you'd ever seen him.

His usually wild hair was a mess, matted in places as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. His leather jacket was askew, one sleeve pushed up to the elbow while the other hung loosely at his wrist. The strong scent of whiskey wafted from him, mixed with something earthier – had he been in the woods?

His eyes, usually sharp and alert, were unfocused as they landed on you. For a moment, they seemed to look through you rather than at you.

"Work?" he scoffed, stumbling slightly as he entered. "It's summer, kid. Live a little."

The irony of his statement, given his current condition, wasn't lost on you. But as he brushed past, the scent of alcohol growing stronger, you couldn't help but wonder what had driven him to drink so heavily tonight. Logan had his demons, sure, but this seemed excessive even for him.

"Logan," you said softly, reaching out to steady him as he swayed. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He paused, turning to look at you. For a brief moment, his tough exterior seemed to crack, revealing a glimpse of raw pain underneath. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual gruff demeanor.

"I'm fine," Logan grunted, his voice rough as gravel. He shrugged off your hand with a forceful jerk that nearly threw him off balance. "Just need to sleep it off."

As he stumbled towards the stairs, you stood frozen in the foyer, a war of emotions raging within you. Frustration at the interruption of your work battled with genuine concern for your colleague. The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, each thud against the hardwood punctuated by a slight scuff - clear signs of his unsteady gait.

BAM

The sound reverberated through your chest, jolting you into action. "Oh my- Logan!" The twisting knot in your stomach unraveled, replaced by a surge of adrenaline as you found yourself on your knees beside the fallen giant. The polished wood floor was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Logan's body.

"Are you okay?!" Your voice came out higher than intended, tinged with worry. You gently turned his body, your hands careful but insistent. Logan's face came into view, his rugged features slack, eyes roving aimlessly. They passed over your face without a flicker of recognition, unfocused and glassy.

"Clearly not," you muttered, answering your own question. The words tasted bitter on your tongue, worry and frustration mingling in equal measure. You patted his stubbled cheek, the coarse hair rough against your fingers. The familiar texture grounded you, a tactile reminder of the man beneath this drunken exterior.

"Come on, you big lug." Your fingers curled around his jacket collar, the worn leather an old friend under your grip. You could smell the years of use on it – a mixture of tobacco, whiskey, and that indescribable scent that was purely Logan. You tugged, your muscles straining against his dead weight. It was like trying to move a mountain, and you felt a bead of sweat trickle down your back with the effort. "I can't get you up those stairs, but we can try to find something else."

Logan stirred under your hands, a low groan rumbling from deep in his chest. You could feel the vibration of it through your palms, like the purr of some great, dangerous cat. Keeping a steadying hand on his arm, you helped as he struggled to his feet. His muscles were taut under your touch, coiled with a strength that, even in his inebriated state, was intimidating.

The scent of whiskey hung heavy in the air around you both, an almost visible miasma. It mingled with the earthy smell of his leather jacket and something so distinctly Logan – a heady mix of cigar smoke and pine that usually brought a sense of comfort and safety. Now, it just emphasized the bitter truth that in trying to distance himself from his pain, Logan had simultaneously distanced himself from the man you once knew.

He was mumbling, disconnected words tumbling from his lips like scattered puzzle pieces. You caught fragments – "Jean" and "Summers" among them – each name landing like a small stone in the pit of your stomach. But you weren't really trying to piece it together, not now. Your mind was already racing ahead, calculating the logistics of moving him, wondering if you could manage to get him to the nearby study with its comfortable couch. And, if you were being honest with yourself, a small part of you was wondering how soon you could get him out of your sight and return to the normalcy of your work.

You watched, as if in slow motion, as Logan threw a heavy arm around you. The sudden shift in weight knocked you off balance, causing your body to shove even closer to Logan's as you struggled to support his swaying form.

You closed your eyes, trying to distract itself with thoughts of your discarded project in the library. You tried to reimagine your pre-arranged photos and timelines, hearing them calling to you like a siren song of productivity and purpose. But it was hard to focus on that, not with the heat radiating off of Logan's body making your skin feel like it was sizzling, every point of contact between you a livewire of sensation.

You could feel every hard plane of his body pressed against you, the heat of him searing through your clothes. The closeness was both thrilling and terrifying, and you quickly shook your head, pushing the confusing thoughts away. Right now, Logan needed a friend, whether he (or you) realized it or not.

"Alright, big guy," you said, your voice sounding strained even to your own ears as you adjusted your grip on his arm. Your fingers dug into the solid muscle there, seeking purchase. "Let's get you somewhere you can lay down before you fall again and cause some damage." You began to guide him, every step a careful negotiation between his unsteady feet and your determined support. It was like trying to direct a landslide – Logan's bulk and uncoordinated movements making each step a precarious balancing act.

"I-I'm fine," he slurred, his words thick and syrupy. His head bobbed with each trudging step, reminding you of those drinking bird toys. "Jus' needed a break." The words were punctuated by a hiccup that shook his whole frame, and by extension, yours.

"A break from what?" You grunted, the words coming out breathless as you strained to keep him walking in something resembling a straight line. The carpet runner in the hallway bunched under your feet with each step, creating small obstacles you had to navigate around. "It's the last week of summer."

The reminder seemed to hit Logan like a physical blow. He let out a loud groan, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours where you were pressed against him. Suddenly, his body went limp, all semblance of cooperation vanishing in an instant. He stumbled again, but this time, anchored to you as he was, he dragged you with him.

"No, no Logan," you gasped, your muscles screaming as you struggled to keep both of you upright. Your feet scrambled for purchase on the polished wood floor, sliding dangerously. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought you were both going down, but somehow – through sheer determination or dumb luck – you managed to keep moving.

With a final, herculean effort, you maneuvered Logan's bulk towards the library. The giant sofa loomed before you like an oasis in a desert, promising relief from your burden. And of course, because the universe seemed to have a twisted sense of humor tonight, it was right next to your craft table. The carefully arranged materials – your planned escape from this chaos – now stood as silent witnesses to your struggle.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the leather creaking under his weight, you couldn't help but wonder how this night had spiraled so far from your quiet plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving you feeling oddly bereft despite your earlier desire to be free of him. You stood there, catching your breath, watching the rise and fall of Logan's chest as he settled into the couch, already half-asleep.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the aged leather creaked in protest under his substantial weight. You couldn't help but marvel at how drastically this night had veered from your meticulously laid plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving behind a peculiar sense of absence. It was a feeling that caught you off guard, considering your earlier desperation to be free of his burdensome presence.

For a moment, you stood there, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Your eyes traced the rise and fall of Logan's broad chest as he settled into the couch, his features already softening with the onset of sleep. The furrows in his brow, usually so pronounced, began to smooth out, giving him an almost peaceful appearance that seemed at odds with the tumultuous events of the night.

Shaking your head, you turned back to your project, eager to lose yourself in the familiar comfort of organization and creativity. Each piece fell into place with a satisfying click, the world narrowing down to the careful arrangement of photos and timelines. Time seemed to slip away as you worked, the rhythmic sound of Logan's breathing fading into white noise.

Despite the rhythmic process you had created, your mind managed to stray to the man beside you. Logan's presence, even in his unconscious state, was impossible to ignore. Your eyes drifted from your work to his sleeping form, tracing the rugged lines of his face that you'd memorized long ago.

A familiar ache bloomed in your chest, a bittersweet mixture of longing and resignation. How many days and nights had you spent like this, stealing glances at Logan when he wasn't aware, allowing yourself to imagine a reality where his eyes would light up at the sight of you? But that was a fantasy, and you knew it.

Your fingers absently toyed with a photo of Jean Grey that had fallen from your timeline. Even in this candid shot, her beauty was undeniable. Logan's voice, slurred with alcohol, echoed in your mind: "Jean." Of course, it always came back to Jean.

You couldn't blame him, not really. Jean was everything - brilliant, powerful, compassionate. And you? You were just... you. The history teacher who helped patch him up after missions, who listened to his rare moments of vulnerability, who silently loved him from afar.

A soft murmur from the couch drew your attention. Logan's face had contorted, his lips moving soundlessly. Was he dreaming of her even now? The thought sent a pang through your heart.

"She's with Scott, Logan." You shook your head.

The words tasted bitter on your tongue. Because that was the cruel irony, wasn't it? Jean was utterly devoted to Scott Summers. Her love for him was as clear as day to everyone - everyone except Logan. He clung to hope like a drowning man to driftwood, blind to the fact that Jean's heart belonged to another. Just as he was blind to your feelings for him.

You turned back to your work, trying to lose yourself once more in the familiar task. But your eyes kept drifting to the leather jacket draped over a nearby chair - Logan's jacket. How many times had you imagined him placing it around your shoulders on a cold night? How many times had you dreamed of being the one he looked at with that intensity, that raw need?

But those were just dreams. Reality was this: Logan, passed out on the couch beside you, murmuring another woman's name in his sleep. A woman who would never return his feelings. And you, silently loving a man who would never see you as anything more than a friend.

The spell was abruptly broken by a loud, guttural grunt from the couch. Startled, you whirled around, your heart leaping into your throat. Logan's peaceful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a mask of distress. His forehead was creased, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling as if grasping for something just out of reach.

The realization hit you like a splash of cold water: he was having a nightmare.

Pushing your chair into the table with a soft scrape, you rose to your feet. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as you approached Logan. Years of living in a school full of mutants with varying degrees of control had taught you the value of caution, especially when dealing with someone as potentially dangerous as Logan in a vulnerable state.

You positioned yourself at the head of the couch, carefully staying out of range of his arms - and more importantly, his claws. Your eyes flicked nervously to his hands, half-expecting to see the glint of adamantium at any moment. Swallowing hard, you steeled yourself and reached out, your hand hovering uncertain over his forehead.

For a heartbeat, you hesitated. The man before you was a far cry from the intimidating, gruff Logan you knew. In sleep, trapped in the throes of a nightmare, he looked almost... vulnerable. It was a side of him you'd never seen, never even imagined existed.

Taking a deep breath, you gently placed your fingertips on his temple. The skin there was hot to the touch, almost feverish. You could feel the rapid pulse of his temporal artery beneath your fingers, a testament to the intensity of whatever visions were plaguing him.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible even in the quiet of the library. "It's okay. You're safe." He let out a soft moan. Your fingers comb through his unruly hair, something you had never dared to do before. His usual gruffness is stripped away, and what remains is raw, untethered vulnerability—both his and yours.

His breath is uneven as he shifts under your touch, but your movements remain steady, soothing him. The weight of unspoken feelings that have built up over the years presses down on you. The sight of Logan up close so troubled and lost pulls at your heartstrings in a way you can’t ignore anymore.

"Logan," you whisper again, this time more firmly, urging him back to reality. His eyes flutter open, hazy and disoriented. For a moment, they lock onto yours. There's no Jean, no Scott, no X-Men—just the two of you in this quiet, dimly lit room, the air thick with unspoken tension.

His hand moves up to catch yours as it rests on his hair, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the strength behind it. "Why... why are you here?" he mumbles, voice still hoarse and thick with sleep, but there’s something else beneath the surface.

"I'm here because you needed me," you reply softly, the words feeling far too loaded but still true. The tension in his grip tightens, and for a split second, you wonder if you're imagining the way his eyes darken, the hint of desperation and something else swirling within them.

"Don't you have someone else to take care of? I'm not worth the trouble..." His words are a mixture of bitterness and regret, and it cuts deep. You shake your head slowly, heart pounding in your chest.

"You are worth it, Logan," you whisper, barely able to believe the words have left your mouth. Maybe it’s the weight of the years you’ve spent suppressing your feelings, or the heavy air filled with alcohol and desperation, but something shifts between you two in that moment.

Without thinking, Logan sits up, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you closer to sit beside him, bodies pressed together. The sudden movement leaves you breathless, your body leaning against his, faces only inches apart. His breath is warm and carries the sharp, smoky scent of whiskey, but beneath it lingers something else—something raw, unspoken, and heavy between you. The proximity feels electric, the tension between you simmering just beneath the surface.

For a split second, neither of you moves. You can feel the thrum of Logan’s pulse where his chest presses against yours, and his eyes, dark and stormy, search your face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe an answer to a question neither of you has dared to ask aloud. The weight of unrequited love hangs between you, an invisible thread that pulls you closer even as you hesitate. You've both been running from this, denying it, but now it feels inevitable.

Logan's hand lingers on your arm, his rough fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. His jaw clenches, and you can see the battle raging inside him, the unspoken words on his lips threatening to spill out. "I—" he starts, his voice rough and hesitant, like he's about to confess something too heavy to bear, but you don’t let him finish. You can't, not when you're both teetering on this razor's edge.

You lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative press. For a heartbeat, Logan freezes, his body going rigid with surprise, but then something in him snaps. His right hand snakes down your left side pulling you even closer, as his other hand cups the back of your neck, and he pulls you deeper into the kiss, his lips urgent, almost desperate. It's not gentle—it’s raw, filled with the intensity of everything he's never said. The kiss is a release of all the years spent pining for someone else, all the nights spent wishing for what he could never have.

You know this isn’t love, not the kind either of you have been hoping for. It’s about filling the hollow space left by the people who’ll never look at you the way you want them to. You’re both seeking something that’s just out of reach, using each other to drown out the ache of unrequited love that’s settled deep in your bones. Jean's name might as well be carved into the air between you, but tonight, that pain is dulled, replaced by the heat and urgency of the moment.

His grip on you tightens as the kiss deepens, a silent understanding passing between you. This isn’t about forever. It’s about right now—two people grasping for something real, even if it’s fleeting, even if it doesn’t fill the spaces you need it to. You know that come morning, things will be different, but for now, you both allow yourselves this escape.

Logan’s tongue licks tentatively at your lips, you give him the permission he’s silently seeking as your lips part. You feel lightheaded as his tongue slides into your mouth, and your groin feels hot as Logan lets out the filthiest groan into your mouth.

You let out a soft whine as you grab at his shirt, his muscles hot and firm under the fabric. As Logan continues to indulge in the taste of you, fingers trail down the front of his shirt all the way to and under the hem. Your fingers lightly drag across the thin sliver of skin and you feel Logan’s hip twitch, and he pulls away sighing lightly into your mouth.

He adorned the sexiest look on his smug face. Granted he still looked inebriated but this time instead of being drunk on whiskey.. he was drunk on you. Mother of all that is good and well, you know you should say something, be reasonable, smart, but dammit if there’s one thing you will stick by it’s that you will always help a friend in need…

You bring him close, hands clasping behind his neck and pulling him in as you swing your leg over his lap straddling him. His hands immediately meet the small of your back, and he leans in to kiss you again pulling you flush to his chest.

Now its your turn to take control in the kiss, Logan pliant as you lap at his mouth. He lets you think your in charge until he takes you by surprise and uses one hand to grab the hair at the back of your head. You lose your rhythm for a second and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue along yours, saliva pooling in your mouths and melting in the middle. He begins to suck on the slick pink muscle and you give in.

Whatever ounce of worry, hesitation, anxiety, any reservation whatsoever you could have had left your body and you gave in to desire. That bitch, that deliciously sinful demon had got her way as the muscles in your legs gave in and you relax onto Logans lap. He continues to slurp at your mouth, and you mewl. Never in your life had anyone done this to you before. Not only was it filthy, it was incredibly hot.

The heat in your groin burned your insides leaving you with an ache you needed to relieve. Your hips buck reflexively as you feel a wetness pool on the fabric of your underwear. You let a moan slip out of your mouth, and Logan let out a deep and throaty chuckle. His fingers go back beneath the waistline of your pants, fingers gripping the flesh of your hips and grinding you down against his pelvis.

You threw your head into the crook of Logan’s neck as he began to buck his hips into yours at a steady rhythm. His fingers digging harder into your skin, as he applied more pressure. You could feel the thin fabrics of your underwear and sleep shorts soak the more you rubbed against Logan. You began to gyrate your hips in tighter circles.

“Ah, fuck.” You breathed out as you pressed your forehead to the brute of a man beneath you. “Logan, Logan, come on, stop teasing.” You panted between breaths. Logan shifted a bit beneath you causing your neglected clit to get caught during your motions. Your head lolled to the side and then back as a whimper turned into a full cry of frustration. God, you wanted this pain, this ache you were feeling to go away and you’d do anything to make it stop.

Logan’s grip tightened on your hips, as he stilled your body for a second.

“What the fuck,” You hissed, trying to slide your wet heat on Logans definite show-er and grower but the man loved to tease. Logan continued to hold your hips and you began to grow frustrated. The feeling of his smirk against your neck causing tears to come to your eyes.

“Logan, please.” You whimpered, your voice shaking. You feel him freeze and you mentally shoot yourself in the foot— You didn’t want this to be a thing with emotions, it was bad enough that the first time you’re having sex with the man you’ve loved for five years is as a one night fling. You didn’t want to have to think about the emotional repercussions before having what you’re pretty sure is going to be the best orgasm of your life.

In a moment of panic, and wanting to shift the focus you lean forward, and your hands find the button of Logan’s pants. You unbuckle the belt, and he peppers kisses along your shoulders, your fingers fumble with the button, and he noses your jaw, you slide down the zipper and he pecks your neck. All of a sudden the intimacy becomes too much so you trail your hands at the band of his underwear and you begin to pull the fabric down. Coarse hair grazes your fingers, and before you can stop yourself your hand runs up his stomach, and down back to his groin— his breath shudders against the nape of your neck as he begins to nip at your skin.

Before you can fully expose the man he grabs your hand and puts it on his shoulder as if saying to let him do the work. You obey and lift your hips to give him space. Next thing you know your being guided back close to him, hovering over his groin.

While you hadn’t seen his dick fully yet, you knew the mutant was big. You could tell regardless of the scenario. The way he walks, the way he sits— legs spread so wide it’s like he’s constantly inviting you to kneel between them. Missing the opportunity this time didn’t make you think any different though, this man was massive. The heat within your body was already painful enough, but now the heat you feel outside your cunt was unbearable.

Your right hand slid between your bodies as you reached for Logan's thick dick. He let out a low growl as your fingers wrapped around his shaft. Logan's fingers reached for the fabric between your thighs, moving the soaked cloth to the side urging you to put his cock inside.

You guide the tip to your entrance and you can feel your cunt clench around nothing in anticipation. You feel heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but the aggression in Logan’s breathing gives you relief that you’re not the only one desperate. But for who it was is a different story.

Logan got impatient and lifted his hips to push the tip past, and your mouth fell open as a silent moan possessed your body. God, you were right. He was so thick, the stretch was borderline unbearable but before you could fully adjust Logan began to thrust up even further. His dick going so deep, the tip hit the spongy part.

He let out a strangled grunt as he held your hips down, and you squirmed.

“You needa stop that.” He barked, as he rolled his head back against the couch rest, trying to control himself as he felt your hole clench around him.

“I’m sorry,” You sob, trying to adjust but the pain and pleasure were too overwhelming you could feel yourself losing focus.

“I just–” He shushes you by cradling you against his shoulder, arms enveloping you in a tight hug, and just when you think you’ve calmed down he devours you like you’re his last meal. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you from his lap before he brings you down and he thrusts up.

A sob escapes your lips as his hips fire off like a pistol, thrusting in and out, brutal but so worth it as your desires are finally being satiated. He’s holding onto you like if he let go you’d float away. A string of curses fill the air as he continues to pump into you.

“Fuck, fuck, Logan.” You mumble, words slowly leaving your mouth.

“Awe,” Logan tuts as his hips fall into a normal pace, his hand coming to caress the back of your hair. “Don’t tell me this pussy is lightweight, we’ve only just started and you’re already acting like this?” You don’t respond, and instead let out soft moans as he continues to fuck into your abused cunt. Logan uses the opportunity to pull you back by your hair (again) to examine your face. It’s flushed red, glowing with perspiration, your chest panting as you try to catch your breath.

“No baby that won’t do.” He caresses the hair out of your face and nuzzles his face against yours. His facial hair prickling your skin. He places a kiss on your forehead before he pounds into you faster, deeper than before. You can barely keep your eyes open and all the sounds that leave your lips are just pathetic little whimpers and sobs.

"M'close." He grunts and you can't help but agree. "You gonna come, sweetheart?" You can't find the words and nod, pliant like a ragdoll in his arms. He groans.

"C'mon. You can do better than that, can't ya? Tell me."

"Fuck yes," you pant, your voice barely audible between gasps. You writhe beneath him, desperate for something to anchor yourself to, but with his hands pinning your wrists, the only thing you manage to grab is the rough hair on his lower abdomen, the friction of it grounding you as much as the heat and slap of his body. "Please… don’t stop."

His grip tightens on your wrists, the pressure pushing you to the edge as he moves faster, his breath hot against your skin. Each thrust sends a jolt through your body, every nerve alight with anticipation and need.

"That's it," he growls, voice thick with control as he watches you fall apart beneath him. "Let go."

You can feel it building, the tension coiling in your core, and with one final snap of his hips, you shatter—your body arching, toes curling, a strangled cry escaping your lips. The world blurs, everything outside this moment fading as you hit your peak, wave after wave crashing over you.

But even through the haze, you feel him reaching his own release. His pace becomes erratic, his muscles tensing, and as he finally falls over the edge, his body tight against yours, he groans—a low, guttural sound—before the name slips out.

"Jean—"

The word cuts through the air like a knife, your euphoria draining in an instant, replaced by a sharp, hollow ache in your chest.

Your heart plummets, and the warmth of his body that moments ago felt so consuming now feels like ice against your skin. The name he whispered isn’t yours. It echoes in your head, louder than the pounding of your pulse, louder than the ragged breaths you're both still catching. You feel like you’ve been struck, yet somehow, you’re not surprised. You always knew this wasn’t really about you. But it doesn’t stop the ache spreading through your chest.

You close your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat as the reality of it all comes crashing down. This was always going to hurt.

For a few seconds, neither of you moves. The weight of the moment lingers, heavy and unbearable. His body relaxes, but the guilt etched into his expression is unmistakable, and you can feel the shift in the air. The intimacy that just moments ago had been raw and consuming has evaporated, leaving behind only an awkward silence and a sense of regret so thick it’s suffocating.

You disentangle yourself from him slowly, the warmth of his skin now foreign, a reminder of what you never really had. You sit up, your body still trembling, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts. The room feels stifling now, every breath you take thick with the weight of everything left unsaid.

Logan’s eyes open, still clouded with the haze of pleasure, but they widen when he realizes what he’s done—what he’s said. Panic flashes across his face, but it’s too late. You’ve heard it, and you can’t unhear it.

“Shit…” he mutters under his breath, his hand reaching out as if to apologize, but you’re already pulling away, slipping out of his grasp like sand between his fingers.

“It’s fine,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, though the crack in it betrays you. You force yourself to keep moving, pulling your clothes back into place, each motion slow and deliberate, as if trying to hold yourself together with every button and clasp.

He doesn’t say anything, and for once, you’re grateful. You don’t want to hear an apology, you don’t want to hear him stumble over words of regret. You don’t want to hear him say her name again.

You stand up, back turned to him, your chest heaving not from passion, but from the pain you can’t quite swallow down. Your hands are shaking as you adjust your clothes, but you refuse to let him see it. You knew this was a mistake. You knew this wasn’t love.

“This was never meant to fix anything,” you finally say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I was just… trying to help.” The words taste bitter, but they’re true. You’d gotten caught up, you’d let yourself believe—if only for a moment—that maybe it could be more. But it never was.

Logan sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking at you with something that could almost be remorse. But it doesn’t matter anymore. He made his choice long before tonight.

With one last glance over your shoulder, you meet his gaze. His eyes are still shadowed by the weight of his unrequited love, and you can see it all too clearly now. You were never the one he needed. You never stood a chance.

“I’ll be fine,” you lie, turning back to the door, your footsteps heavy as you leave the room, abandoning the project you had started earlier that night, each step pulling you farther away from the moment that should’ve never happened.

But even as you walk away, you can’t shake the feeling that for a second, despite knowing better, you let yourself believe it was real.

———

a/n: i thrive off of feedback and criticism.

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dilvuc · 8 months

Text

❝WHEN THEY WEAR YOUR CLOTHES❞

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: fluff

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗: gender neutral

𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊: when they wear your clothes

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: second years x gn!reader (excluding housewarens)

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: none

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: when they wear your clothes

╰┈➤ RUGGIE

“That's odd. I thought I put my cleaned shirt here. Where is it…?” you scratch the back of your head as you look around your room for your shirt. however they were nowhere to be found. “Did I misplace it…?”

you heard whistling passing by your bedroom. you assume that it was ruggie carrying a basket of laundry to leona's room. you peek outside your room and you were correct, it was ruggie. however, there's something different about him.

he's wearing your shirt! how are you not surprised? he always took your stuff. you called for the male, “Ruggie…”

“Hm? Yes?” ruggie questioned when he heard you calling his name. “Do you need anything?”

“...You know exactly what I need.” you deadpanned. yes, he knows exactly what you need. ruggie looks away, “I have no idea what you're talking about~”

“Do you always need to steal my stuff?” you sweatdropped.

“Shishishi~ Finder keeper~” ruggie snickered. you sighed, knowing that you can't stop him from stealing from you. you are dating after all. the shirt looks cute on him, too.

╰┈➤ JADE

“Ah…where is it?” you questioned while looking under your bed. you were looking for the blazer of your dorm uniform, but they were nowhere to be found. “What the hell? I'm sure it didn't move on its own.”

while you were searching for your blazer, floyd walked by your room and spotted you looking under the bed. the teal haired male slowly sneaks behind you and taps you on your shoulder, causing you to jump.

“Hehehehe~ Gotcha~” floyd grinned. you huffed, “What the fuck, Floyd.”

“Whatcha looking for?”

“My blazer. I put it in the exact spot.” you pointed to your desk before going back to search for your blazer.

“Ah…I think I saw Jade wearing it.” floyd said, pausing your search. you accidentally hit your head in your bed and turned to the teal haired male, “Eh? What did you say? Jade has it?”

“Yeah. That blazer couldn't fit him. It was too big,”floyd stated.

“Ara, ara~ You noticed.” jade peek in your bedroom, wearing your blazer on his person. he stepped into your room to reveal the full view of himself to you. “I just thought it be funny to see how you react to find out about your missing blazer~”

“Give it back—” you wanted to get it back, but now that you took a closer look at it, it looks cute on him, “On second thought, keep wearing it…”

“Oh? Did you find it cute on me?” jade chuckled. you blushed and looked away.

“Ew…did he turn you on?” floyd cringed.

“Shut up…”

╰┈➤ FLOYD

every time. every freaking time, he wears your clothes without permission. why? it all happened last week when he tried on your clothes. when you find him wearing your hoodie, you don't bother telling him to take it off. instead, you called him cute which led him to keep taking your clothes just to be called cute again.

“You really took it personally…” you sweatdropped when you noticed floyd wearing your oversized night shirt with shorts underneath.

“Well? Well?” floyd asked, waiting for you to call him cute. you chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck, “You look cute.”

“I know, right~ I'm cuter than anyone?” floyd beamed.

“Yes, way cuter.”

hearing you called him cute put a huge smile on his face. how the fuck can someone like floyd be so fucking cute? you can't handle this much cuteness.

╰┈➤ JAMIL

“Huh…? Did I get it mixed up with other student clothes again?” you asked yourself while holding up a hoodie that is most definitely not yours. it was jamil's hoodie. he must've accidentally taken your hoodie. “This is Jamil. Maybe I should give it back to him…”

you folded up the hoodie and went to jamil’s room then knocked on the door. the tan skinned male responses to the knock, allowing you to come in.

“Uh, sorry for interrupting. But…I wanted to let you know that you mistook my hoodie as yours—” you paused mid-sentence when you realized that Jamil was being comfortable in your hoodie.

“Did I…? I don't think I did.” jamil tilted his head fiddling with the strings on your hoodie. “I think it's fine…”

“You sneaky snake…” you blushed while clutching on your heart. jamil smirked, knowing that he won. you'll get him next time.

╰┈➤ SILVER

your hoodie was missing. you don't remember wearing it until fall. how is it gone now? did someone steal it? did you move it? did you leave it somewhere? so many questions going on in your head and you don't know where to look—

“Are you looking for your hoodie?” you jumped when you spotted lilia hanging upside down on your ceiling. you always hated when he did that. lilia chuckled, “Why don't you check on Silver and see?”

“Silver…?” you tilted your head.

just as lilia says, you went to check on silver. there better be a good explanation for this. you entered silver’s room without knocking, but surely silver wouldn't mind since he's always be sleeping. “Silver…?”

you noticed the silver haired male sleeping in bed wearing your hoodie, “Ah…So that's where my hoodie was…Cute…”

you quietly grabbed your phone and took a picture of your silver haired boyfriend and posted it on magicam.

rules

twst masterlist

╰┈➤ author note: please note that this is a slow update. i will still accept your request, but it will take a while since i'll be working on my books on wattpad. if you wish to read those books, here's my wattpad account.

#male reader #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader #twst jade #twst jamil #twst ruggie #twst floyd #twst silver #jade leech #jamil viper #ruggie bucchi #floyd leech #silver

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deathbxnny · 3 months

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hello, may I request jing yuan with a teen!reader who is jealous of yanqing? - they are around the same age as him, a new cloud knight who is an orphan, they try really hard to get the generals attention, even making him tea, buying presents etc. they want to be like yanqing, and are a bit jealous of the relationship with jy and yanqing, so they always try to prove themselves, even sacrificing food and sleep for their training, and are reckless during missions (bonus points if yanqing or jing yuan is present at the mission, they would literally fight until they pass out)

Oooh, I really love this request, Anon!! Thank you for the idea, and I hope you'll like this! (Also, I'm sorry this took so long... my final exams were out for blood, but I'm thankfully nearly done with them...)<33

Content: Reader is an Orphan, angst, hurt comfort, father figure Jing Yuan, mentions of near death of reader, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

You always compared yourself to Yanqing, wondering what the difference between you two was that made him the generals clear favorite. It infuriated and frustrated you to no end. It took up most of your thoughts and feelings. It eventually just consumed you as a whole once you realised that the clear difference must've been strength.

At first, you attempted to get the generals attention through more mundane things like bringing him tea, starting conversations, or giving him trinkets you made yourself. He appreciated them all with kind smiles, and it made you happy to be the recipient until his focus shifted back to the blonde boy rather quickly after. You'd stand there watching the two talk so naturally with eachother, eyes burning with misplaced anger and rage, which made you think of other ways to get the older man's interest in you.

You and Yanqing were the same age and had similar backgrounds, but his skills were always far more advanced than yours. He was powerful and a force to be reckoned with even when he was so young. That was a fact. And you... weren't exactly that. You were strong, yes, but you weren't good enough. So the only logical next step was training until you could be like him... no even better than him.

Your days, therefore, were only spent with training of all kinds that went on for hours. You began not caring about sleep, nor food, nor anything else. The goal was clear. But it was still not enough. You knew you had to do so much more and so much better. So excelling in your missions was a must.

You and Yanqing often went on missions together despite not necessarily getting along fully. He never understood your issue with him but didn't comment on it. So he was very much surprised, when you pushed him away during one mission and nearly killed yourself during a violent attack by a marastruck soldier. Your strength and speed saved his life. But yours was barely hanging on when you were quickly taken away by medics.

You were startled to see the general at your bedside, calmly patting your head to tell you that everything was fine and that you'd be on your feet again soon. He thanked you for saving Yanqing, and whilst you could feel the lecture on the tip of his tongue, he kept back for later. He was proud of you... just don't do that again.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr jing yuan #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr yanqing #hsr Yanqing x reader

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whydousernamesevenexist · 3 months

Text

Okay but one of my headcanons for Evan is that he steals. A lot.

Like, not because he needs to, or for the thrill. He just steals because he can.

You left your quill on the desk and turned around? Whoops, it's not there anymore. But Evan will have a quill to give to Regulus when he forgets his own again.

You dropped your fancy hair clip on the floor and didn't pick it up immediately? How curious, it's not there anymore! But Evan has a gift for Dorcas now.

Professor Slughorn left polyjuice on his desk when Evan was in detention? No, he must've imagined it, it's not there anymore and Evan is sitting peacefully in his chair. But Evan and Barty will have fun together when they polyjuice into Filch and McGonnagall and terrorise students.

A remembral was laying on the windowsill and now it's not here anymore? You must've misplaced it. But if you see Pandora a few days later with a remembral, it's only because her lovely brother gave it to her as a gift!

#evan rosier headcanon #evan rosier #evan being evan #barty x evan #slytherin skittles headcanon #slytherin skittles #the emeralds #the marauders era #the pantheon #harry potter marauders #marauders era #marauders

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hannieehaee · 11 months

Text

18+ / mdi

a member finding your nudes - maknae line

95 line, 96 line, 97 line, maknae line

wc: 1726

materlist

seungkwan -

seungkwan always had a soft spot for vernon. his very stoic friend, more often than not, was unfazed by things that would usually get a reaction out of most people. this was something seungkwan couldn't relate to, being the stark opposite and constantly pulling out the dramatics whenever he could. despite their very distinct personalities, they were very close. vernon would always trust seungkwan with everything, and seungkwan was happy to say that the feeling was mutual.

it was not an uncommon occurrence for seungkwan to find vernon playing around with his phone while he was distracted. the younger member had a habit of misplacing his, or just plainly forgetting to bring it along, meaning that he'd often either ask kwan for his or simply pick it up whenever he wasn't using it. vernon wouldn't snoop. seungkwan knew this, and trusted his brother with his phone, just like he did with anything else.

vernon liked to listen to music whenever things quieted down in his usually hectic schedule. having forgotten his phone, he picked up seungkwan's without thinking, plugging in his wired earbuds and putting on an album he had been into those days. he went on like this for a bit, sitting back on one of the waiting rooms while he waited for the day to move forward. it was calm for once. until seungkwan's phone began to chime every few moments, continuously interrupting vernon's music. okay, its not like he could complain. this wasn't his phone. which is why all he meant to do was mute whoever was messaging his friend. except that's not what he did.

it must've been two? three? eight? minutes that vernon sat there, phone in hand as he stared in shock at the erotic view on the screen. it was you. you were messaging his friend incessantly. the content of the messages had caught his attention, making him stop on his tracks and just. stare. you were wearing a cute set. adorable, really. he knew seungkwan liked adorable things, but the contrast here was laughable. you did not look adorable. you looked a way that had vernon biting his lip, feeling guilt at the way he was looking at his friend's pretty girlfriend. but he just couldn't stop looking.

with vernon's lack of awareness of his surroundings (the music playing in his ears did not help), it was only a matter of time until his friend returned and wondered where his phone had gone. seungkwan walked towards his friend, spotting his phone in his hands, planning to ask for it back since he needed to call you to let you know he'd be heading home in a bit. something stopped him though. as he walked in vernon's direction he noticed a strange look on his friend's face. his usually unfazed friend seemed to be .. fazed by what he was looking at. this peaked seungkwan's interest, seeing as that was his phone he was looking at. he never would've predicted what he'd find as soon as he reached his unsuspecting friend and peeked a look at the screen.

"W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY PHONE?!", okay, yelling maybe wasnt the best idea, but seungkwan was seungkwan, which meant the dramatics were necessary.

vernon spluttered, remembering where he was, who he was, who he was with, the newfound weight inside his pants, and looked up at his friend with widened eyes.

"i-shit. kwan, i-"

"y-you're sick! don't look at her like that! you degenerate!", with this, he snatched the phone and marched away, muttering something about 'never pick up my phone again!'

vernon sat there, heavy breathing at the scene he bad just been a part of, now with a new view of you in his mind. seungkwan would get over this in a few hours, but vernon would remember what he saw under your clothes for a long time.

vernon -

vernon had no concept of paying attention to his surroundings. anyone could attest to this. the amount of times people tried to call his attention while he was listening to music or was simply just in his own world were endless. breaking him out of whichever trance he was under during these instances proved to be difficult at times.

today was one of those times. vernon was in his own world once again, listening to music on his phone while he stared off into the scenery while he and his members recorded yet another season of in the soop. many members walked by him, bidding their greetings to him but none succeeding at receiving a response.

joshua eventually came across him as he walked by the river, spotting his friend as he sat on a bench, staring at the view in front of him. he knew he wouldn't pay him any mind, so he decided to sit next to him and join him in enjoying the serenity of the scene. they acknowledged each other with a hum, with joshua not wanting to interrupt vernon's peace. they sat in silence for a few minutes until joshua grew bored and picked up vernon's phone, which was sitting between the both. vernon either did not notice or did not mind joshua's meddling with his phone. this was usual among the members anyways; grabbing each other's things without much of a bother.

he fiddled with vernon's phone for a while as his friend kept staring blankly into the river, listening to his music. he checked instagram, weverse, and even twitter before he lost interest. he was about to text dokyeom from vernon's phone, asking him to come hang out, when he noticed that vernon had left one of his conversations open. the one with you.

now, joshua was not a nosy person. quite the opposite actually. but as he stared at the opened text messages, he couldnt help but read what was on screen.

from: vernon

baby ... miss u so fucking much :(

from: baby 🤕

should've taken me with u to the woods then 😡

from: vernon

wouldve stolen u away if i could

miss holding u

from: baby 🤕

anything else u miss nonnie ?

from: vernon

baby ... dont do this rn .. im in the middle of the woods surrounded by staff all week ..

from: baby 🤕

oh so u dont wanna see this ? :c

*image attachment*

from: vernon

fuck

baby ..

ur so fucking pretty

please

ill call u tonight i promise

wear that tonight please

thats when the message thread had ended; on an agreement between you and vernon to have phone sex that night, joshua assumed. he was glad to have skipped out on sharing rooms with vernon this time around. he completely dismissed the images he saw, not wanting to open that can of worms. the thought still didnt prevent him from blatantly staring at them, however. he might've stared too loudly, since his lack of movement suddenly alerted vernon of what exactly joshua was looking at on his phone.

"d-dude what the hell?!", he snatched the phone away, turning off his music in the process, "is that what you've been doing this whole time?!"

"i- it was open, man. sorry."

"get your own girlfriend!", exasperated, vernon got up and began to walk away, only to hear joshua call out one last time to him.

"have fun tonight, hansol!", god knew joshua wished he could say the same for himself.

chan -

seungcheol pretty much had free reign around his younger members. they'd sometimes tease and bully him, but he knew that with one quick look from him they'd all back off, intimidated by his hard demeanor. if he gave an order, it pretty much went followed without much complaint. fortunately for the rest of the members, seungcheol was a reasonable man, not using this power unless absolutely necessary.

today chan had decided to go live. it had been a while and he wanted to interact with carats one-on-one. he hadnt predicted however, that his eldest brother would arrive, using an iron fist to demand to be featured on the live, claiming he was bored in his hotel room and had planned on going live too until chan rushed to do it first. now he found himself sitting next to seungcheol in his hotel room, facing the camera as they read comments. in the meantime, chan's own phone, located on the table, would not stop vibrating, occasionally disrupting seungcheol mid speech. had be been alone, he wouldve simply ignored it and waited for the live to be over, but sadly that was not the case.

"guys, please don't call us while we're on live. it's scary!", the elder whined lightheartedly, assuming the vibrations were due to yet another fan figuring out their numbers and calling mid live.

"oh, it's not- uh, it must be staff," replied chan, having taken a peek at the notifications, knowing they were from you.

"oh. let me see," he snatched the phone before chan could say anything, knowing any sudden moves from him were being watched on live for millions of fans.

he watched his friend swipe up, meddling in his phone. he tried to stop him in the subtlest way he could, making a joke of seungcheol being nosy, but was only met by his dismissal as he laughed at chan's protests.

it all remained lighthearted until seungcheol opened the notifications. his smile dropped at seeing your messages, swallowing as his breath caught in his throat. he quickly recovered, putting a smile back on his face, remembering he was on live. but his eyes wouldnt leave the screen. it wasnt until a few seconds later that he began to try and salvage the situation.

"oh guys, it's uh, it's staff. theyre saying we should end it now. we have something to do," before chan could really say a proper goodbye, seungcheol bid his farewell and tapped the 'end' button on screen.

chan hadn't known what to say at knowing his leader had seen what he could only assume to be a very naked you while on stream. seungcheol didn't seem to either.

for the first time in his life, seungcheol felt fear at receiving a scolding from his youngest member, sensing the frustration radiating from beside him.

a/n: thank u to anyone who read and liked this tiny lil series of reactions <3

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thescarletnargacuga · 19 days

Note

Here’s a little idea! Any version of showtime you’d like, they try to keep their relationship more of a secret at first (maybe because pomni doesn’t want to be in the spotlight or they don’t want there to be suspected favoritism, etc) and think they’re doing a good job at it, but they’re so obvious about how lovey they are to each other that everyone else caught on a long time ago haha

A/N: ANY version, you say? MANGO, GET IN HERE!!

WORST KEPT SECRET

A TIME CAPSULE AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

AU credit: @mangotangerinepastry @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule

WARNING: making out, mild angst

~~~

Caine held Pomni close in the dark confines of a janitorial closet. The guests were away for the day and they simply needed a moment to themselves from the prying eyes of the overlording AI and the other cast members. Feeling her heartbeat with his, her lips against his teeth, her hair between his fingers was what was needed, but he also felt the tug of the invisible red strings on his fingers, warning him to keep this quiet.

Pomni wrapped her arms tight around Caine, holding him to her as she kissed his teeth fervently. The world beyond the closet door vanished from her mind. She could just be here in this moment with him. A brief moment of bliss within the eternal servitude to the capsule.

They broke the kiss and embraced in silence, breathing each other in...and the closet of cleaning supplies. Pomni took a deep breath against Caine's neck and sighed. "I wish we could stay here..."

"Me too." Caine rubbed Pomni's back soothingly. "But you know what will happen if we do." His fingers twitched against the tug of the strings.

"I'm grateful for the moments we do get to have, no matter how brief." Pomni gazed into Caine's eyes and caressed the side of his lower jaw. "You're worth suffering this place for."

Caine leaned into her touch and held her hand on his jaw. "I'm really not-"

"Shush. We're not having that conversation again. Not here. You're worth my time. Accept that."

Caine closed his eyes and resigned to Pomni's stubborn insistence. "I don't deserve you."

"I decide who deserves me." Pomni retorted and gave him one more kiss. "I'll give you a minute to get down the hall before I leave."

Caine reluctantly let go of Pomni and peaked out the closet door. Seeing no one, he gave Pomni one last longing look before backing out of the closet.

"Caine? What are you doing here?"

Caine about jumped out of his skin. He spun around and stood as innocently as he could in front of the door. "Oh! Hello, Zooble. Sorry, I didn't see you there. What- uh, brings you here at this time of evening?"

"uh....cleaning? Like every night?" Zooble drolled.

Caine started to sweat. Time must've gotten away from him, because he and Pomni are normally gone long before anyone comes by. "Right! Cleaning. Of course." The door started to crack open behind him and he leaned against it, slamming it shut.

Pomni was knocked back and grabbed a shelf, making a few cans and bottles rattle loudly.

Caine coughed. "Door's a bit loose. Anyway, sorry to be in your way. I was just looking for something I misplaced. But it's HIDE-ing rather well from me."

Pomni heard Caine's enunciation and spun in place, looking for a corner to hide in. She dove into a bin and closed the lid.

Zooble arched a mechanical brow. "O...kay...so, you gonna get out of my way or..?"

Caine swallowed and stepped aside. "Yes, I have business elsewhere. Have a good evening." He put his hands behind his back and walked away as casually as he could, but there was a definite urgency in his pace to get away.

Zooble went into the janitorial closet without another word. They collected cleaning supplies and a mop. One of the cans of cleaning solution was empty and they lifted the corner of the bin lid just enough to toss the can in.

The can bonked Pomni in the head and she let out an involuntary "ow".

Zooble froze, knowing damn well what they just heard. They quietly check the radar in their abdomen. There was a blip next to theirs on screen. Pomni's blip. Zooble finished what they were doing and left the closet.

Pomni waited for several minutes before finally peeking out from the bin. She slowly and carefully made her way out the door and down the hall, covered in drips of cleaning solution.

Zooble chuckled to themselves as they watched Pomni's blip scurry away.

~different day~

Kinger poured a drink for himself and Caine. They occasionally got together for a chat, being close friends as they were in the Capsule's longest running cast members. For now.

Kinger stood behind his bar and leaned on it casually. Caine sat on a bar stool, nursing the old fashioned poured for him. "Thank you, Kinger. I've needed this."

Kinger shrugged, sipping his own drink. "The ringmaster's drinks are on the house. Enjoy." As he put his drink back down, something caught his eye. An out of place spot on Caine's collar. The ringmaster was typically immaculate with his appearance, as expected of him. It was a faded blotch of pink.

Kinger pointed to the spot. "Hey, uh, you got something on your shirt there."

"Hm?" Caine struggled to see something right under his jaw. "What is it?"

"Makeup."

Caine's blood went cold. "Oh, that...I must've gotten some on my hands and rubbed it off by mistake. Stage makeup gets everywhere during prep."

"You don't wear makeup." Kinger gave Caine a look. "Whose is it?" He'd smirk if he had a mouth.

"No one's." Caine said curtly. "For your information, I do handle makeup. It's an art form." While he personally agreed that makeup is an art, he was bluffing about doing it for the performers.

"So Pomni or Gangle." Kinger deduced. "Gangle prefers to do her own."

Caine gripped his glass a little tighter. "How are you so sure?"

"You'd be surprised what people tell the bartender." Kinger stood upright and downed his drink so he could continue cleaning and prepping for the next day. "I'm good with secrets, Caine."

Caine didn't respond. He only eyed a panel behind the bar that hid a stash of strong liquor reserved for him.

~different day~

Gangle and Pomni were getting ready for bed in their shared dressing room. Before putting her day's performance clothes in the laundry, Pomni took a long sniff of her coat. Sometimes, after her rendezvous with Caine, she could still smell his cologne.

Gangle saw Pomni so that while she was washing her face at her vanity. "Why do you keep doing that?"

Pomni quickly dropped the jester into the laundry and started anxiously brushing out her hair. "No real reason. Just uh, checking for any bad smells. Don't want to stink up the room." She forces a laugh.

Gangle narrowed her eyes in the mirror. "You must really enjoy bad smells. You had such an... interesting look on your face."

"It's nothing, really!" Pomni brushed faster. "Sorry, for being weird. It's just something I do." She really thought she was being subtle about it.

Gangle dropped it for now. She waited until after lights out and she heard Pomni breathing low and deep to get back up and sneak to the laundry basket. She lifted out Pomni's coat and sniffed the collar. She almost gasped out loud.

She dropped the coat and went back to bed with a mischievous smile on her face.

~different day~

Jax groaned as the joystick control over him released for the day. "Ugh, my aching back." He stretched. "Stupid kids and their stupid motor skills. They jerked me around like a ragdoll." He spotted Ragatha locking up the day care center for the night. He grinned. "Speaking of..."

Ragatha turned and bumped right into Jax. "Pardon- oh, hello Jax." She gave him a polite smile.

Jax wrapped an arm over Ragatha's shoulders and walked with her. "What's up, dollface. You throw any nasty kids out the window today?"

Ragatha gasped. "Absolutely not! I would never!" She looked around, hoping no guests were still around the circus to overhear.

Jax chuckled, speaking louder. "Of course you would! Anyone dealing with those snot-nosed brats would in a heartbeat!"

"Jax!" Ragatha stopped and was about to start lecturing him when a door opening at the end of the hallway got her attention. It was Pomni, straightening her jester coat and then walking away down another hallway that T-ed at the far end.

Once alone again to start her rant, Ragatha took a breath only to be interrupted again by the same door opening. Caine came out with an unusually bright smile on his face, and he went the other way at the T junction.

Jax smiled broader than he had in ages. "Holy [%$!$]." He didn't care if BUBLE got on to him about it later. This was a moment worth swearing for.

"Now, Jax, don't. We don't know what's in that room."

"Pretty sure that's an empty party room." Jax's smile was as strong as ever. "I gotta hand it to the old timer, scoring Pomni couldn't have been easy."

"Old- WE DON'T AGE!" Ragatha blustered. "And we don't know what we just saw. It doesn't mean anything."

"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt, dollface. This is too good." Jax rubbed his hands together.

Ragatha frowned. "Don't be mean. We're all just looking for a bit of happiness. Let them have theirs."

~different day~

Gangle and Ragatha met up after work. "I know something!" They said at the same time.

"You do? What do you know?" Ragatha asked.

"Wait, you know something?" Gangle asked back.

"Yeah, but is it the thing that you know?"

"I don't know? It might be."

"Jester Dentures?"

"Jeater Dentures!!" The girls squealed and giggled with each other.

Pomni started to notice the others looking at her differently, like they wanted to say something but would turn away or have something sudden to do if she even looked at them.

Anytime Pomni spoke to Caine in front of the others, they got weird. The stares got more intense, yet they backed off like she needed space to give her performance report to the ringmaster.

Caine noticed too. Not just from the odd behavior but Kinger and Jax both getting on his case about Pomni and how he wasn't being as subtle as he thought. It made cast meetings awkward. He could actually feel his face heat up if the others watched Pomni smile at him in meetings.

~different day~

Caine FINALLY got Pomni truly alone again after asking her to meet him in the piano room backstage in the middle of the night. He could play one key at a time without the strings trying to break his fingers, so that's what he did as he waited.

Pomni sat next to Caine on the bench seat and touched her shoulder to his. "Everyone knows."

"Yep." Caine dinged a C note.

"I thought we were careful."

"Apparently not careful enough."

Pomni watched him slowly play moonlight sonata one note at a time. "Does this mean you don't want to see me anymore?"

Caine stopped. "No. It means we need to be even more careful. Our behavior has disrupted the cast. Not so much as to affect their jobs, but BUBLE has taken notice and...given me a warning." He flexed his sore hand.

Pomni put her hand over his on the piano keys. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You're worth whatever that thing puts me through."

"Now it's my turn to say I'm not worth that." Pomni cringed thinking of what BUBLE would do if things escalated.

"I've done a lot of stupid things in my time, Pomni. Seen a lot of places. Met a lot of people. I think I have a pretty good grasp on what holds value in this world." Caine turned his head to look at her.

Pomni met his gaze expectantly.

Caine continued. "To exist is to suffer. To find meaning in the suffering is to live. You are a part of that meaning to me. I've found so much more than camaraderie or friendship in you. I found..." The word caught in his throat. The red string around his neck tightening.

"You don't have to say it." Pomni leaned in. "I found it too. In you."

Caine leaned his top jaw to her forehead and closed his eyes. Pomni interlaced her fingers with his on the piano and closed her eyes too.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc fanfiction #tadc showtime #tadc caine #tadc pomni #the amazing digital time capsule #time capsule au #tadc au #caine x pomni #pomni x caine

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nym-wibbly · 1 month

Note

You think endverse Cas was really human? I mean was he a reliable narrator in that script or doing this whole performance to hide himself in plain sight while being more than human less than angel?

Good question! I didn't come away from that ep believing he was fully human, personally - his ability to both instantly spot time-travel!Dean and effortlessly identify what must've happened to him speaks to that. His senses aren't fully human, maybe - at the very least, he retains a mind free from the confabulation and confusion that humans can't avoid when perceiving the world. He sees - and trusts - exactly what's actually there in front of him when the 'wrong' Dean walks in. No hesitation or bewilderment because his brain's telling him two different things - just a few pertinent followup questions to get the context of Dean's time travelling. He still has the uncomplicated, uncomfortable clarity and directness of angel!Cas.

It says a lot that this timeline's Cas describes being human as a step down. Endverse!Cas equates his relative lack of power with becoming human, but losing his angel powers isn't enough to leave him fully human, I don't think. Mortal, maybe, and functionally diminished as a warrior, but not human. It's like he's using it as a catchall word for his fall from grace, and as a derogatory label for his own limited capacity to make a difference in their fight. I don't think he thinks less of humanity than he did before, but he thinks a lot less of himself. Not because he's human, or humanlike, but because he's failed.

I'd suggest that Endverse!Cas's ability to function as an ally who Dean can tolerate (or even allow to live) means that he's less affected by the substance abuse than a human would be. I can't see that version of Dean tolerating any liability in his ranks, let alone in the leadership tier. Maybe Cas walks a thin line with it, always a misstep away from Dean having to take decisive action about him, but he seemed ultra-competent, and trusted, for a guy mixing uppers, downers, and probably sideways-ers, with apocalyptic stress levels and the loss of his very identity.

I do think hiding in plain sight could be a really big part of what we saw from Endverse!Cas. Hiding from himself as much as anything else. Hiding what? Despair, I think. We see hints of that same bitterness and acting-out in regular Cas later in S5, when he thinks that Dean's about to surrender to Michael; that his faith has been (once again) misplaced and the fight is lost. Cas needs something to believe in and fight for because that's how he's made. He takes failure very hard and very personally. There's something defensive about Endverse!Cas, prickly and difficult, even when he's smiling and appears body-comfortable. That easy geniality vibrates with an edge of, "Just try me", like a neon warning sign. I doubt anyone but Dean ever gets the opportunity to see past it.

The End is such a brilliant script, such a well-made episode that it feels like a complete 'verse, but there are so many unanswered questions about how the characters ended up where that story found them. It's a headcanon and fanfiction goldmine because it's so sparing, and I love it. (But I'd just about kill for a Camp Chitaqua or Sam-as-Lucifer spinoff serial to tell me much, much more about it.)

#nym finally watched supernatural #spn 5x04 #endverse!cas #endverse!dean #endverse #endverse castiel #endverse cas #endverse dean #castiel #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural meta #spn meta

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ink-n-shadow · 1 year

Note

(May your day be beautiful and good <3)

HELLO HEAR ME PLEASE!!🗯

JUST GHOST (or Konig cof cof) WHO DISCOVERS THE READER HAS MOVED ON WITHOUT THEM AFTER THEY HAVE BEEN GOING ON A MISSION FOR MONTHS !!

BUT! actually the reader was just tricked into being told their lover had KIA👀

maybe Ghost/Konig will look for reader? Or do they go on without them? :P

the angst? palpable. delectable. i'm obsessed. (hope your day is amazing, anon :3)

[ MOVING ALONG ] 𝜗𝜚 the one where after coming home from a mission, König doesn't know that you think he's gone

𝜗𝜚 pairing: König x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: mentions of death/dying in action, moving on, shitty ending 𝜗𝜚 note: find part two here ⤳ link

The last few months had worn on König—filled with a classified mission for KorTac which forced him to go completely off the grid. No texts, no calls, no emails, no letters, no you. It was isolating—but now he was home. And the first place he went to was your apartment.

When König strolled up to your apartment door, he used the toe of his combat boot to kick up the edge of your front door mat, finding the shiny gold key in its usual space. You had left it there for König specifically, knowing just how often he misplaced his things.

He was about to push the key into the lock when he heard an angry voice behind him.

"Hey—the fuck are you doing?"

König turned to face whoever had spoken to him, glancing down to meet the gaze of a man carrying an armload of groceries. His head tilted to the side for a moment, eyes narrowing over the edge of the balaclava he typically wore when not on mission. He must've not spoken fast enough, because the man came closer with a scowl.

"I said—what the fuck are you doing? Trying to break into my girl's apartment or somethin'?"

His girl? König couldn't help the bitter laugh that fell from his mouth as he took a step back. "Your girl? Uh—apologies, I think there must be a mistake. My girlfriend lives here, her name's—"

"Well she doesn't live here anymore, alright? My girl and I live here now, so give me the key and be on your way, 'kay?" The man held out his hand expectantly, lips pressing into a thin line.

Maybe you had moved since König had last been here. Of course, he wouldn't have known. You hadn't been able to talk for how many months? It had to be 7 or 8. So König relented, handing the gold key over to the man in front of him and holding his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "Alright—sorry again."

But as König was walking away and the man began unlocking the door, he could've sworn he heard your voice from inside.

...

You were sprawled out on the leather couch of your living room, hand holding the TV remote as you flickered through channel upon channel to find something to watch.

You were only broken out of your trance at the sound of the key inside of the lock, turning your head and meeting your boyfriend's eyes with a soft smile. "Hey baby—need help with the groceries or anything?"

"Nah babe, I got it." Your boyfriend mirrored your smile as he moved to the kitchen, placing the bags down on the kitchen island before strolling over to place a kiss on the crown of your head. "The weirdest fucking thing just happened."

You frowned at his words, setting the remote in your lap and scooting over on the couch to make room for your boyfriend to sit down. "Weird? What happened?"

Your boyfriend crashed down on the couch next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you into his open chest. "Some dude was outside—had the spare key from under the front door rug and everything."

Snuggling deeper into your boyfriend's embrace, your eyebrows pulled taut in the middle as you looked up at him. "What—like he was trying to break in?"

"No, he said his girlfriend lived here." Your boyfriend let out a belly laugh, shaking his head from side to side before sighing softly. "I told him to get the fuck outta here. It was weird—he was a tall fuckin' guy too."

You felt your heart sink into the pit of your stomach, nuzzling your cheek against your boyfriend's collarbone as the pieces of the story began clicking together in your brain. But that story couldn't have been possible—you'd gotten the dreaded letter in the mail months ago. It was still laying in a crumpled, tear-stained ball somewhere in the back of your desk drawer.

König was dead, killed in action, and you knew he was never coming back. KorTac told you he was never coming back. That's why you moved on, found someone new, began rebuilding your broken heart and your life from the ground up. It simply wasn't possible.

"You okay, babe? You've got that look on your face. What're you thinking about?" Your boyfriend pulled you from his chest, hands coming to rest on the swell of your cheeks as he gazed down into your eyes. His face read of concern, but you knew he couldn't tell exactly what was happening inside of your brain.

So you swallowed it down with a soft smile, a shrug of your shoulders, and a swipe of your lips against his. Ever since that letter came in the mail and your life as you knew it had crumbled in the matter of a few words, you had become an expert at shutting your emotions off and putting on a brave face. "Just thinking about dinner. What're you hungry for?"

#könig x reader #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #cod fanfic #cod x reader #cod mwii #call of duty drabble #call of duty #call of duty könig #könig imagine #könig headcanon #könig drabble #iNs requests ⭒#iNs König 🐺

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year

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A raggedy Ann/Andy reader sounds fun with some characters from the Barbie movie! A rag doll is a doll after all they just have more things they can do like being very flexible

Ohh I love raggedy ann! Tbh I've had a hc that other dolls/action figures can also inhabit Barbieland if their owner played with them alongside their Barbie toys.

They're rare but they do coexist with the Barbies and Kens!

........

Stereotypical Barbie (Ann!Reader)

At first, learning that a new type of doll was living in Barbieland bewildered her.

You're not like any Barbie she's ever seen before, with you being made entirely of cloth with yarn hair and a triangular nose.

Given how you've been around since 1915, you're stunned by how far dolls have evolved since then.

You're well-liked among the Barbies, although of course many of them had questions about what you could do as a rag doll.

For starters, your plastic-free body gives you more flexibility and freedom they couldn't even imagine having.

You never have to worry about breaking anything!

While you're susceptible to tearing, you know how to sew yourself back up.

Does it scare Stereo!Barbie sometimes when you suddenly produce a needle to fix a loose stitch in your arm? Sure.

But she's extremely accepting and welcoming.

She even invites you to sleepovers during girls' night where you learn more about the Barbies and listen to their gossip.

When she starts having her existential problems, you let her hug you and reassure her she's still the prettiest doll you've ever had the honor of meeting.

Beach Ken (Andy!Reader)

He doesn't usually pay much attention to other dolls aside from Stereotypical Barbie (and occasionally his buddy Allan).

But seeing a new non-Mattel doll enter the scene did pique his interest! Especially since you were the first to ask him why he was staring at her.

He always wonders what your job is...even though you're constantly reminding him you're just a kid.

When he eventually gets it, he'll try to show you the ropes of Beach, trying to act like a cool older brother figure(tm).

Part of him hopes that Barbie will see how sweet he is with kids and another hopes it'll make the other Kens jealous that they're not friends with a cool doll like yourself.

However like Film!Andy you do have a feisty attitude, always rolling your eyes when you see him gushing over her and making a fool out of himself.

Sometimes you think he's trying too hard to impress her.

Yet you have a softer side that comes out after Barbieland is taken back by the girls, and you comfort Ken by saying you did like all the cowboy stuff he brought back (and only the cowboy stuff).

You made the mistake of asking him about horses as he just infodumps random facts for the next ten minutes.

But you finally accepted him as your brother.

Weird Barbie (Ann!Reader)

When you first appeared in Barbieland, you were confused as to why all the dolls here weren't made of cloth like you.

You felt like you were misplaced, and eventually learned about Weird Barbie and sought advice from her.

She explains that your owner in the real world must've either played with you alongside their Barbie toys or shelved you in a collection of them.

Regardless, she assures you it's not a rare phenomenon and it's nothing to freak out over.

You just so-happened to be closer to Barbieland society than most non-Mattel dolls.

She lets you crash at her place anytime you want, and you get to meet all the other outcasted/discontinued dolls who lived with her.

They're curious about you and love how you're flexible enough to do just about anything!

If any of them are feeling sad, you'll give them hugs that help them feel better instantly.

Weird Barbie thinks you're cool 100%.

Plus, you're nice and clearly had manners as you didn't call her "weird" behind her back or to her face.

#clanask #anonymous #barbie x reader #barbie movie x reader #margot robbie barbie #ryan gosling ken #weird barbie #doll reader #raggedy ann #raggedy andy #headcanons #platonic

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darlin-collins · 8 days

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"your honor she won't stop quoting those two gay vampires!"

she:

"must we do this every day?"

"this one's ugly bring me a new one"

"not in front of dinner 😒😮‍💨"

"___ i have had it with your nonsense!"

"i thought we put ___ behind us!"

"I SHOULD FLAY YOU!"

"what do you mean? of course we have"

"not in the ___ we haven't/don't!"

"what of it?"

"i will not sit here and be judged by you!"

"take me on a date! take me to the Opera!"

"i just hate ___ ,it's so dreadful"

"✨170!?✨"

"you went on slut!"

"you're a dandy boy!"

"quiet dandy boy!"

"__ wouldn't have known good taste if it bit her in the ass,i know because i did"

"you ancient FUCK"

"i must've misplaced it inside of your CAVERNOUS ASSHOLE!"

"i haven't had ___ in over 200 years!"

*disgusted of bexter noises* (only reserved for when the boys in my class open their mouth)

"you told me you loved me! and my bumped pecs and my big big biceps"

"be gone dandy boy!"

*more disgusted by bexter noises*

"oh I'm too pretty for that"

#this is all what my convos consist of at this point #school is in 4 days #I'm fucked #escaped audios #not in front of dinner darling #escaped NiFoDD

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justalittleficsideblog · 7 months

Text

s'ébahir

Gojo x reader Modern, College AU!

s'ébahir - (French; to be amazed, to be astounded, dumbstruck)

2k smth words

He always strolled into lab characteristically late. You envied his nonchalance, his stance of ease in which he would stroll into the lab and set his stuff down when the professor just began their lecture on the hazards you'd be dealing with today.

annoying

You were always early. Anxiously waiting for your seat so you could prep early and leave before the rest of your classmates.

The bastard was also, unfortunately, handsome. Devilishly tall with a lean build and white hair, he was a stark contrast against some of his fellow students.

"--it is IMPERTINENT that you wear your goggles the entire time during this lab. We will be dealing with concentrated hydrochloric acid--"

you droned out your teachers voice. Unlike some of the other students, you had read the lab manual the night before and watched a video on how to do everything correctly.

This wasn't your first rodeo.

Somewhat bored, your eyes drifted back to the male that was sitting across from you. The fume hood that was connected to your countertop obscured the view a bit, but you caught a glimpse of him leaning against it, head in his hand.

He seemed as bored as you were.

"Alright, lets begin!" An enthusiastic clap sounded.

You had noticed his hesitancy with the lab goggles each time. He chronically wore sunglasses indoors during class and around campus. But when it came to lab, your prof made no exceptions.

Tugging the too tight safety goggles over your eyes, you managed a glance to find startling azure ones starting back at you.

You smiled politely and turned to grab your equipment.

"Hey."

You glanced up at Gojo, who was leaning against your bench.

"What did you need this time?"

Gojo had a knack of stealing your shit since his tended to be always (coincidentally) misplaced or lost. He blamed Geto for it.

"Do you have an extra ring clamp? Geto took mine," he shrugged nonchalantly. You nodded and handed over the item, focusing back on your work.

"Do you know how much your putting in?" he leaned in closer, tapping your graduated cylinder with his hand.

"I can read fine enough Gojo."

"Are you sure? The lab manual said 12 mls...you wrote down 21"

Shit. He was right, you must've copied it down wrong last night.

It was slightly infuriating how sharp he actually was. He had such a lazy demeanor it was easy to forget he tended to be top of the class.

"Ugh, I don't remember how much I've put in it already." you ran your hand through your hair, frustrated as you eye the clock.

The liquid in the flask turned a murky brown, fizzing slightly.

Ok yeah.. that is definitely not what happened in the video.

Gojo leaned over and swirled the flask in his hands, the murky liquid turning darker.

"Yeah, you put way too much into that," he blew out a low whistle.

Fuck. You're going to have to redo the entire thing. Biting your lip, you glance at the clock again.

I'm not going to get a chance to study before my lecture exam...

"Oh come on, just partner up with me," he smirks, nodding towards his bench. "I'll even let you do all the work."

You scowled. You hated partnering up, you ended up doing everything anyway. But you were quick about it on your own.

Looking back towards your failure and the clock, you realize you don't have much of a choice.

"Fine," you nod and walk to his bench. "But lets be as quick as we can."

He grinned.

"Alright, now we just have wait."

The worst part about science, you argued, is the "waiting" portion of it.

Some experiments take time. This unfortunately, was one of them.

"We work together pretty well," he leaned forward. "One could almost say we have....chemistry."

You cringed as he laughed at your response. "Hilarious, Gojo."

A shadow loomed over you. "Did he get you with some of his science lines?"

You smiled. Contrary to Gojo, Geto was more composed and studious as you were. You both talked often, considering you had a lot of the same classes as him.

"It was too good not to!" Gojo replied, spinning around in his chair.

You rolled your eyes, glancing back towards your glassware. Geto was easy to be around, he was calm and didn't try to get a rise out of you like his white-haired friend did. He made you a little more nervous, he was kind of unpredictable. Not to mention pretty.

"I think its done," you pointed to the bubbling flask.

Geto nodded to you, "good luck then."

You smiled back at him, pretending not to feel your blue-eyed partner staring at you.

Gojo

He doesn't know why he wants to fluster you. Or why it grates on his nerves that you can so easily smile at Geto when you seemed to struggle around him.

Technically, your experiment earlier would have been salvageable. Yeah, your yield would've been low, but he jumped at the chance to work with you without thinking.

He meant what he said earlier, you both worked surprisingly well together.

Taking the flask from you, he began to dry as you washed everything up. He didn't quite want to be done just yet, labs weren't his favorite part but he found himself looking forward to this one.

Not that it had anything to do with you.

Geto always argued that he was "just into you" but he didn't agree. He just thought your intellect was interesting, that's all.

It had nothing to do with the way you always showed up with enthusiasm, drawing him in as he watched you be engaged with your work. He couldn't wonder why--

"Gojo?" Bright eyes looked up at him as you waved the last Erlenmeyer in front of his face. "Hey, we're done."

Startled, he nearly dropped the thing he was drying. "Right, yeah. See you around, then."

He cursed himself slightly for his cowardice.

"Well, actually, did you want to finish up the lab report quick ? We have plenty of time," you looked at your phone as you said it.

Realistically, he would say no. He doesn't finish his reports until the last minute anyway.

But to get the chance to fluster you more.

Ah, hell. Why not?

"yeah, we can do that." He shrugged nonchalantly. Geto met his gaze across the lab and quirked an eyebrow at him.

He bared his teeth in response.

"Should we go to the library then?" Your voice cut through his thoughts, catching him unawares as you shoved the paper into his hands.

He nodded quickly, fishing around in his backpack for his glasses as he ripped off the goggles still glued to his face.

He motioned for you to go first, following behind and out of the lab as he let you pick where to sit down.

You picked a spot across the campus cafe, he inwardly wondered if you came to study here frequently. Th atmosphere was quiet and there was a lot of natural light that made it easy to relax and focus.

Setting down his bookbag, he tuned into your ramblings about the lab.

"What do you think about the yield? I think we could base our conclusions around it. Maybe even mention the slight color difference when we added the--"

Your drive to finish this was commendable. He was put off a bit by how you didn't seem affected by him at all. Most people saw his sunglasses as odd, and honestly the general consensus was that he was constantly nursing a hangover.

There was a lapse of silence and you both typed away on your laptops, broken up by only you saying:

"Why do you wear those sunglasses all the time?"

Eyebrows raised, "Secret." The corner of his lip turned up.

"Is it because of your eyes?"

His smirk fell. It wasn't so much that he cared about how his eyes seemed to freak people out. It was more about how sensitive they were to light and packed spaces. He used to get frequent headaches because of it, but the glasses thwart off the edge enough now.

He merely shrugged in response to your question. "The light bugs my eyes sometimes."

You nodded back in understanding, "Ugh, tell me about it. I used to get migraines from the fluorescent lights when I was younger."

He stiffened. Such a minute detail, but he couldn't help but consider the gesture as an act of empathy. Seeing past his usual charm.

You both fell back into silence, quickly finishing your report and hoping off of the chair you inhabited just moments ago.

He felt his heart pound as you smiled up at him, watching your every movement as you threw your bag over your shoulder and made to leave.

"We finished that quick! Good luck on this exam later, not that you'll need it."

His arm burned from where you patted his shoulder as you strode out of the cafe lounge and towards some other study zone. Glancing down at it, he almost expected it to catch fire.

Eyes flicking up over his glasses, he looked down the hallway you had left.

Damn.

He might just have to make your lab fail next time.

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #Holy modern student au #the slow burn is slow burning #lmk if you guys like this sort of mini series and want me to continue!!#per the stem folks #i hope you feel seen with the HCl used in chem labs ts is diabolical #totally did not use my ochem lab that failed as inspo for this

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