#fitted bi fold doors | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

myspacebrat · 11 months

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𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖍

succubus steve x eddie munson x girlfriend reader

summary: after finding a weird book of summoning spells from the library, your boyfriend eddie proposes an idea where you’d put the spells to good use, but what happens when you both actually summon a succubus demon who’s been starved of his lustful desires for centuries?

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, monster fucking, big dick steve, mmf threesome, oral sex ( f & m receiving), p in v sex, p in a sex, dom!steve, sub!eddie, sub!reader, spit as lube, being spanked and choked by a tail, squirting, breeding kink, cream pie.

authors note: another one shot for y’all, hope you like! As always thank you to my baby loves @xxhellfiregirlxx & @take-everything-you-can for beta reading, and always listening to my crazy ideas <3

wc: 3.1k

“This is such a bad idea.” You grumble as Eddie’s eyes squint, trying to make out the scription that was hastily written in the black leatherback book your boyfriend had found when he was in the library, browsing the shelves for a new fantasy book.

Instead, he found a creepy looking one filled with summoning spells and incantations.

“C’mon babe, this shit isn’t real. Who would leave a legit book of spells in a library? A Hawkins library, no less.” He huffs with a devious smirk “the only demon you’ll be summoning tonight is this big dick having one, right here.” He pacifies before chuckling at his own words as he continues drawing out the intricate looking pentagram.

You scoff and roll your eyes as you sit on your shared bed, socked feet dangling off the side as you watch the metalhead; his tongue poking out while he curves the chalk, finishing off the circle.

He quickly looks up at you in disbelief, “what? You tryna say I don’t have a big cock?” He taunts as his lips curl up into a mocking smile. “Oh Eddie, I don’t think it’ll fit! Your cock is so big! You stretch my pussy out so good!” He teases in a high pitched voice that you are certain, sounds absolutely nothing like you.

“I sound nothing like that you ass!” You screech as you pick up and throw the black bunny stuffie your boyfriend had recently won for you at the Hawkins annual All Hallow’s Fall Festival.

“Baby! You’re gonna fuck up my masterpiece. C’mon!” Eddie cries as he throws it back where it previously sat, between your two pillows.

“Well I don't sound like that…I sound way hotter.” You protest before playfully sticking your tongue out at him, making the boy quickly jump to his black boot clad feet and lunging at you. You both fall back onto the plush mattress as Eddie's body weighs you down.

“Stick your tongue out at me again and I'm gonna bite it.” He playfully growls in your ear before softly biting at your lobe.

“Ed’s I can't breathe, get off!” You can no longer hold back your giggles when he begins nuzzling his nose into your neck.

“Okay, undress and put that silk robe on. I'm gonna go stand in the closet and when I come back out, I’m no longer Eddie, okay?” He reminds you as his nose sweetly rubs against yours. “You remember what you're supposed to say?” Your boyfriend questions before standing up and making his way to the closet, dramatically whipping open the bi-fold doors before clambering his lanky body inside.

“Yes, of course I do.” You mutter before standing up and making quick work of removing your cropped t-shirt, little sleep shorts, lace panties and socks.

Eddie winks at you then quickly closes the doors. You slip your silk robe on, loosely tying it around your body before crouching down to get on your knees in front of the pentagram and black burning candles. You wait a few minutes before you begin to recite the words on the paper:

Lilith, please receive this offering. I give this truthfully and willingly

May the light of these candles burn brightly and guide your son to me

The light from the candles flicker as a heavy draft from your cracked window seeps in, sending a deep chill down your spine.

The closet doors burst open and Eddie steps out, wearing a shit eating grin and red devil horns he had picked up from the local costume shop. He was shirtless, his tattoos on full display, black jeans laying low on his hips showing off his deep v lines you always went crazy for, the chain wallet he often wore caught your attention as it swayed while he sauntered over, boots stopping right in front of the pentagram you were kneeled behind.

“Hello, little one.” Eddie growled, but something off in the corner of the room caught your attention, a black figure that swiftly moved out of the shadows, white teeth gleaming as he sent you a sinister smile.

“Holy shit.” You murmur, making Eddie’s face break character as he curiously follows your eyes to the shaggy haired demon who had now fully revealed himself to you both.

Eddie’s whole body turns in shock as his black boots side step the perfectly laid out incantation.

“Holy fuck!” Your boyfriend shouts as the back of his knees hit the bed, he quickly loses his balance, body bouncing off the mattress as his eyes almost pop out of his head from his state of panic. “Who the fuck are you? W-what do you want?” He stammers, his voice cracking as it came out too high pitched for his liking.

You sit there with wide eyes, your body feeling as if it's being weighed down by a ton of bricks and unable to move as the demon studies you, from head to toe before hungirly licking his blood red lips.

“Well you summoned me, silly child.” The demon says before he begins to study your boyfriend.

“N-no, w-we didn't mean to.” You finally spoke before standing up and moving closer to Eddie, but as you do your robe slips open exposing your bare breast and cunt to the demon.

The succubus looks around with a snarl on his face.

“Oh but it looks as though you did, little mortal.” He chuckles as his eyes find the leatherback book splayed out on the floor. “What is the meaning of this if you did not summon me?” He asks as his clawed hand motions to the summoning circle.

“We were roleplaying.” Eddie admits as his cheeks tinge pink from his confession.

“Roleplaying?” The demon questions before he stops right in front of you, his glowing eyes take in you and your boyfriends terrified faces.

“Y-yeah, we uh well I was gonna play the demon and she was supposed to summon me, then we’d ya’ know?” Eddie stutters before making a crude gesture to the demon.

“Hmm, I see.” The succubus says as his clawed hands rub against the soft skin of his chin.

The closeness gave you and Eddie the opportunity to take in the horned monster's face, his rather human looking face. He had dark curled horns surrounded by perfectly coiffed brown hair, honey brown eyes that appeared to change to a glowing yellow when he was excited. His face and body were covered in beauty marks, he was dressed in clothes that looked like they were from centuries ago but his arms were big and muscular and his hands were veiny with long pointed claws. You and Eddie couldn’t help but to think he was fucking beautiful, enthralling.

“W-what’s your name?” You ask as your robe slips back open, revealing your hardened nipples to both males.

“You may call me Steve, my sweet one.” The succubus purrs before his hand reaches out towards your bare breasts, his clawed thumb gently rubbing against your peaked bud, making you shiver but you make no attempts to move away.

“Hey man.” Your boyfriend demurs, but the words come out weaker than intended.

“Shh, little lamb.” Steve murmurs, bringing the same hand he’d just caressed you with, up to Eddie’s lips “You’ll get your turn.” He winks at the boy, whose eyes are now cartoonishly bulging from his head.

Steve steps closer to you both, his very prominent erection now making itself known, as his hands move to yours and Eddie’s faces. He rubs his thumbs over both sets of your lips as he moves in closer towards the metalhead sitting beside you.

“Would you like that, pretty boy?” The demon solicits, his lips mere inches from your boyfriends, so close that Eddie could feel Steve’s shallow breaths.

Eddie had never found men much attractive but he couldn’t deny the allure he felt for the demon standing before him.

“I-I would.” He admits with a slight nod of his head before the succubus pulls him into a passionate kiss, tongues swirling against each other as you look on in desperate arousal.

“Mmm.” The demon hums after he pulls back. “I need to fuck you both.” He declares before bringing his swollen lips to yours, he licks into your mouth making you moan into the kiss, he removes your robe and slips it off your body. His hands rub over your tits, down your sides and land on your hips, holding you tightly as his lips continue to move against yours.

“Sit on his face, sweet one.” Steve demands, easily lifting your hips and moving you further back on the bed.

“Lay back for me, little lamb.” The demon tells Eddie before he falls to his knees and makes rapid movements to remove the metalheads belt, button and zipper. Eddie lifts his hips up, helping the succubus as he roughly rips his jeans down the rest of the way.

You straddle Eddie’s face, your glistening pussy captures Steve’s attention as he now hungrily eyes you and your boyfriend's sexes.

“I haven’t played with such a pretty cunt and cock in what seems like eons.” The demon groans before taking Eddie’s tip into his mouth and sucking.

Eddie moans as his tongue swirls over your swollen clit, he takes your bundle of nerves into his mouth and lightly sucks. Your head falls back in pleasure before he’s gliding his tongue down and licking into your pussy, tasting your sweet nectar. His favorite flavor.

The succubus working between your boyfriend's thighs takes his cock further into his mouth before wrapping his abnormally long tongue around the metalhead's girthy length. Eddie’s eyes roll back as he continues to lick and suck you. The rings on his fingers are digging into you just as his black polished nails are, creating a sting that amplifies your pleasure tenfold.

“Fuck, your tongue feels so good Eddie!” You whimper as you feel your orgasm creeping up on the horizon.

When you bring your head back down, your eyes immediately meet the glowing pair you've vaguely grown familiar with. His long snake-like tongue moves up from Eddie’s asshole to his balls, then up to lick the beads of precum that had built up in his absence while his long, wet, pink muscle made its travels further south.

“Are you going to cum, little one?” Steve questions before his tongue dashes out to lick at his obscenely wet lips.

“Mmhm!” You whine as your mouth drops open into the perfect little ‘o’ as heavy moans begin to fill the room.

The demon crawls up your boyfriends body, straddling his waist, rubbing their cocks together as he begins licking at your clit while Eddie fucks you with his tongue.

“Cum for us.” Steve demands, his thumb now taking over, making swift gentle circles.

“Oh! Oh!” You mewl as your legs shake, knees digging into the mattress as you ride your boyfriend's tongue, while the succubus continues to rub circles on your sodden clit.

“That’s it, pretty thing. Yes, that’s it!” Steve growls, hips still bucking creating the perfect friction as his and Eddie’s cocks rub together, both of them leaking with need.

Once you’ve come down from the euphoria, Steve manhandles you off of the long haired boy and onto your back before he grabs Eddie’s glistening chin and begins licking your slick off of his lips, he quickly dips his tongue into the other boys mouth moaning as he sucks your taste off of the metalheads wet muscle.

When they finally come up for air, the demon turns his attention back on you, making his way between your twitching legs.

“Here is what is going to happen, little doves…” Steve huffs as his eyes roam over your body that lay still beneath him. “I am going to fuck her little cunt as you fuck me.” He growled, his glowing eyes now on Eddie.

“Uh, okay.” Your boyfriend mutters as if he still hasn’t fully comprehended what’s happening, but his cock is so painfully hard and throbbing he’ll do whatever you or Steve asks of him.

“You..” he says as he points a long nailed finger in your flushed face, “on all fours. Now.”

You do your best to move quickly while the demon is still kneeling between your spread thighs. Once you’ve successfully shifted your body onto your knees, head face down into your sheets as you arch your ass nice and high for him. When you begin to wiggle in anticipation a quick whip is descended onto your backside, making you wail out in pain and pleasure.

That definitely was not his hand!

You look over to Eddie whose eyes are wide as his hand comes to a full stop around his cock.

“Holy shit, was that a tail?” Eddie asks in disbelief.

you look back at Steve who is now rubbing his tip along your entrance, gathering your wetness onto the heated skin. You decide to confirm you and your boyfriend’s suspicions when you wiggle your hips impatiently again, and just as Eddie had said a black spiked tail came out from behind the demon giving you another good lashing that made your eyes water and your teeth bite down so hard on your bottom lip you could practically taste the blood.

In one swift motion the demon plunges his big, girthy cock inside of you, steadily dragging it against your walls before his thrusts slowly begin to speed up into an unforgiving pace.

Steve looks down at where Eddie is still sprawled, the look on his face is that of utter shock.

“Get back there and fuck me. Now.” The succubus growled as his eyes glowed, before desperately hissing from the tightness of your pussy around him.

Steve hadn’t been fucked by another man in centuries, and holyfuckingshit if he wasn’t the most backed up he’d ever been, but I guess that’s what happens when you haven’t been summoned in a millennia. He needed that ultimate power of fucking and being fucked.

“Well, I’ve never fucked a guy before… do I need something to make it wet before I-I…” your sweet, sweet boyfriend bashfully asks Steve.

“Just spit will do.” The demon groans, as his once erratic hips fall to a leisurely pace.

The metalhead spits on his fingers before he’s bringing the big glob between Steve’s cheeks and timidly rubbing it against his puckered hole.

“Mmm, that’s it.” The succubus hisses before Eddie begins to slowly sink his middle finger into the tight hole, it almost sucks him in immediately and he bottoms out to the knuckle within seconds, god he’s so tight and warm, Eddie couldn’t wait to be engulfed in his little asshole. Those are words he never thought he’d utter to himself. But here we are.

Once he’s gotten three fingers in, and has pumped them in and out enough times to successfully find the demon's prostate.

Eddie removes them before spitting on his tip for extra lubrication, then lines his hard, aching cock up with Steve’s hole and slowly but surely pushes in.

The feeling that comes over both males is very obvious as throaty grunts and groans fill the room. Finally Steve starts to pick up his pace as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. You can feel your boyfriend fucking the demons cock into you even harder, which causes more wetness drip from your stretched hole and down to the succubus’ balls that harshly slap against your clit.

“Oh! Yes, fuck that’s so good!” You whine as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

The grunts coming from your boyfriend who’s hands now roughly grab at your waist, using you to fuck himself deeper into the hole he’s pounding, and Steves hisses and whimpers, make you feel as though you’re floating on the precipice of blinding white pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Mmhm.” You continue to moan as you’re being fucked absolutely dumb.

“You hear that?” Eddie whispers into the demon's ear, “you’re making my girl feel so good, am I making you feel good, too?” Your boyfriend questions before licking at the succubus’ neck, then taking a chunk of skin between his teeth and biting before it turns into a harsh suck.

“Yes, yes you are making me feel so good!” Steve howled, the pleasure of both you and your boyfriend had the demon’s thoughts disintegrating into nothing but filling and being filled.

When you begin to fuck yourself on Steve’s cock, pushing back to engulf even more of him into your soaked walls, his tail swings out from behind him, swiftly wrapping around your neck and pulling your body up towards his.

“Am I fucking you good, little one?” Steve murmurs into your ear, creating a pleasant chill down your spine.

“Yes, it feels so fucking good!” You admit once his tail loosens from around your throat.

“Are you going to cum for me?” He whispers again, both males' hands caress your body as your high begins to peak.

You can hear Eddie mutter over Steve’s neck “cum for us baby.” The acknowledgement from the love of your life sets off your orgasm as you begin to shake and writh making the demon's tail tighten around your neck creating the most perfect spacey feeling that has your high lasting far longer than usual. A splash of liquid hits Steve’s thighs as your moans grow louder.

“Fuck!” Steve growls, his tail completely leaving your neck and swooping back to where it came from, causing you to fall face first into the mattress, tears and drool wetting the sheets beneath you as he drills harder into you, the need for his release makes him move at an inhuman pace.

Eddie stills allowing the demon the fuck himself on the metalheads cock as there is no way he can keep up with the thrusts he’s fucking you with.

“I’m going to breed this little fucking cunt, while your boyfriend breeds my asshole.” Steve hisses into your neck, before his groans get louder and his warm spunk shoots deep within your walls.

Steve clenches so tightly around Eddie’s cock, milking the cum right out of him as it shoots into his used up hole. Your boyfriend whimpers and whines at the feeling of being completely squeezed of every last drop.

Eddie falls beside you, both of you panting to catch your breaths, bodies mere seconds from being taken under by drowsiness.

Your boyfriend moves the hair out of your face before playfully pinching at your cheeks, the demon looks on at the tender display of affection between two lovers, it makes his chest tighten with an unfamiliar feeling.

“Oh, but we are not done, we have all night and my hunger has yet to be satiated.”

𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 & 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜!

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areyouwell · 1 month

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Somnophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of sleep. Children or adults with this condition may experience hallucinations, voices and in some cases, death.

Ch.4

Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <--

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, no spoilers ;), mentions of suicide attempt, scarring, nightmarish sequences

Word count: 13.2k

A/N: a reward for all your patience :)

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside

‘Told ya you looked tired. Get some rest, see you at 11 am. L.’

You’d woken up that morning to a note scribbled on a folded piece of paper, propped up against your alarm clock in such a way that you couldn’t actually see the time. And it had been like that every day for almost a month before that month fell into two. You and Logan fell into a comfortable rhythm, teaching classes together every other day, and on the days you weren’t teaching, he was helping you develop your mutation.

You’d cook together, sometimes for the kids as well, and spend hours talking over dinner before heading into the lounge and cosying up in front of some movie or tv-show. Most of the time Logan noticed just as you were nodding off and would switch off the show before carrying you back up to your room. Sometimes you were still awake, but you didn’t protest. It was all part of the routine.

However, one thing was bothering you slightly. You’d assumed, with Logan’s more animalistic instincts, he’d waste no time pouncing on you and dragging you into bed, though the moment things would get a little heated between the two of you, he’d pull back, breathless and warm, muttering something like “Not here.” You were fine with it, for now at least, but considering the two of you went from strangers to kissing in the kitchen to Nick Cave, it took you off guard a little.

Though you’d settled on the explanation that maybe he wanted to take things a little slower, you were frustrated. Pent up. And it was taking all of your concentration not to pounce on him now as he shrugged off his flannel shirt. Neither of you had class today, which meant it was a training day. Not that your training has been useful. You seemed to have regressed, being unable to pull the shadows out with you as you had that first time. It was a completely different kind of frustration, and it was pissing you off. Majorly.

“I’m starting to think Xavier was wrong and that we all collectively imagined what we saw a month ago,” you lamented, hanging up your hoodie on one of the hooks near the door. You’d occupied a regular training room for this session, opting to leave the danger room for another day. Nothing had been accomplished, though it did serve to prove once again just how well you and Logan worked together.

Logan folded his arms across his chest. In truth, he thought this was going to be a lot easier than it was turning out to be. The progress you’d made in that first session set him up with a false sense of confidence, though he had to remain encouraging, despite the growing concern that you may not be able to pull this off. That was why he’d asked Charles to take over from Scott. He’d lost too many people in his life and was unable to do anything about it. If things were going to go anywhere between you, he needed reassurance that you weren’t about to disintegrate in his arms. Because the thought of ever losing you genuinely terrified the shit out of him. “When was the last time Charles was wrong, hm?”

You huffed, rolling your shoulders, wincing slightly from the cracking of your joints. “First time for everything…” you grumbled, hooking your elbow around your other to stretch out the muscle. Logan swallowed, his eyes drinking in your appearance. A pair of fitted gym leggings that had him gritting his teeth every time you turned around, paired with a front-zip sports bra that his fingers itched to tug down. He could smell your morning shower, the deodorant you used, whatever body spray you decided fit for today. Never one of those gaudy, overly fragrant perfumes. You preferred a softer scent, something that gave the allure of a misty forest, or a rainy lake.

Fuck you smelt divine. Logan’s teeth ground together, wondering if what he had planned for today was a good idea. He’d been holding himself back from you. Fear of hurting you or driving you away had him shoving his instincts and desires to one side, burying them deep, deep beneath the surface. He could smell it on you, though. When he barely had enough strength to control himself, with wandering hands and lingering touches. He could smell how turned on you got and it killed him to step away from you every goddamn time.

It was fucking torture. He was torturing himself. He was torturing you.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all… but it was a little too late now.

“I don’t wanna focus on your mutation today…” he began, and you whipped around to face him.

“What? Why? Isn’t that kinda the whole point?” You challenged, and Logan sighed. You were irritable today, and rightly so. He recognised how the lack of progress must have been making you feel, and he knew you were scared, and he wished he could tell you he was scared too. How he was terrified of failing you. But he couldn’t, not if he wanted you to have someone to lean on.

“You rely on it too much.”

“Says the man who tanks bullets because he knows he can heal.” you shot back, folding your arms defensively. Logan took a breath.

“That’s different, sweets. ‘S not circumstantial. You get surrounded in the sunlight with nothin’ around to duck into, and you’re dead.” However, that would never be the case because Logan couldn’t imagine a situation like that where he wouldn’t be by your side. But the hypothetical worked to make his point.

“Okaaaay, what do you suggest then, Professor?” there was nothing malicious in your tone this time, the curve of your smile doing dangerous things to his head. He pushed it down again, cursing his body’s truly terrible timing, before gesturing to his chest.

“Hit me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You heard. Hit me.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

You took a step back. “I’m not gonna fight you, Lo’.”

“Why?” he took a step forward, smirking wildly. “Afraid you’ll lose?”

“Yes! Extremely!” Logan barked a laugh at your honesty, earning himself a smile of your own. “Look at you! How is this a fair fight?” you grinned broadly at the ridiculous idea of sparring with him. “I pick my battles, Howlett, and I’m not about to pick one where I get my ass handed to me!” you exclaimed through bubbles of laughter. Logan listened to the constant urge to be closer to you, stepping forward to wrap you in his arms, your chin against his chest as you craned your neck to look up at him.

“I’ll go easy on ya, how ‘bout that?” He was provoking you. The sly bastard knew you couldn’t deny a challenge like that, and the way your eyes narrowed told him he’d hit the jackpot.

“You’re incredibly grating, you know that?” you hissed, wriggling to free yourself from his arms, only for him to respond by holding you tighter.

“Yeah? You gonna do anythin’ about it?” he smirked again, and you had an extremely strong urge to wipe it from his stupidly handsome face through any means possible.

“Let me go and find out.”

“Get free.”

You huffed. “Logan I’m serious.”

He raised a brow. “Yeah? So am I. Get free. And don’t use your mutation.” If you weren’t so pissed off, you would have fainted at the way he fucking growled. But instead, you took a calming breath. Annoyingly, he was right. You did rely on your mutation a lot when in combat. You’d been lucky enough on missions so far not to get caught without any shadows around, but from what you could tell from the very few meetings you were permitted to attend, was that the fight was evolving. Technology was evolving, and if an all out war was to break out, the odds between humans and mutants would be falling into humanity’s favour.

And sometimes, a good ol’ fashioned punch to the face was worth more than dragging people into shadow.

Tensing and flexing, you attempted to contort from his arms, resulting in nothing but an infuriating chuckle from your captor. “Strugglin’?” he asked, condescension dripping from his tone, and you spared him a fleeting glance only to see a mocking pout on his face.

“Fucking asshole.” you snarled, managing to free your arms enough to push back against his chest. But Logan was strong. Insanely fucking strong, and you were held fast.

“Now what?” he poked, deriving a sick amount of sadistic joy from watching your growing fury. He wasn’t worried. You were already harbouring a lot of frustration, and this was the best way he knew to help you let it out. Since the other option was off the table for now.

You’d been formulating a plan for the last few minutes, your last few wriggles had been purely for show. Lulling him into a false sense of cocky security. Your hands slipped beneath his arms, grabbing a secure hold on his forearms. Sending him a knife-like smile, you went to push against his arms.

Logan sensed what you were about to do, feeling slight pressure against his elbow, he moved his arms lower, assuming you were about to attempt slipping out underneath.

Bingo.

You barked a triumphant laugh, changing your grip in an instant. Your hands slipped up between his arms and your waist and gripping his shoulders. Logan didn’t have time to do so much as blink before your foot pushed against his hip and you flipped backwards and out of his embrace, landing a sharp blow beneath his jaw with your knee before you rolled back to a steadying stance a few paces away.

He blinked, hand subconsciously braced against his chin. It was a savage blow, but the throbbing faded almost instantly. He stretched his jaw, pride blossoming in his chest. “Good job, honestly didn’t think–” he was cut off instantly as you ran towards him, glaring venom. Something in you had shifted, and he’d be lying to himself if it didn’t make him think twice about pissing you off so much.

He dodged back as you swung a punch, your left hook flying dangerously close to his nose. You moved with a speed he hadn’t seen from you yet, and with precision he’d only expect from highly trained veterans. You swung again from the right, and he dodged left, only to be met with a sharp blow from your leg. How had you shifted your weight so damn quickly? He didn’t have time to contemplate before your foot slammed into the centre of his chest and he stumbled backwards.

Catching his footing, Logan looked back at you, eyes wide in complete surprise. You stood dangerously still, your dark gaze watching him like a hawk. He was right in his observation. Something in you had shifted. Like a switch being flipped, you’d gone from treating this as a simple training exercise to actually engaging in a fight. He held his hands up in an attempt to placate you. “Alright, let’s take a breath, yeah?”

You silently bared your teeth before launching yourself at him again. Your leg sweeping towards his face in a roundhouse kick. He flinched back, pushing your foot to continue its trajectory past him, only to barely escape another attempt to decapitate him from your other leg. He caught it in his palm, his hand gripping your ankle tightly as he called your name. But you didn’t respond, using his grip on your foot to pull yourself closer.

You hooked your leg around his neck, the way you pulled yourself upright was a testament to your sheer core strength as you shifted your weight back, and attempted to bring both of you to the floor. But Logan was a lot sturdier than you’d anticipated, loosening his hold and quickstepping forward, letting you fall to the floor. You were only down for a second before you flipped upright again.

Logan watched as you extended your arm into the shadow behind you, cast by the metal balance bar running along all four walls of the room. Whoever this was, whoever he was fighting, you weren’t there anymore. Was this what happened the night Jade died? He couldn’t contemplate that right now, not as the thin shadow along the floor started to morph and shift, running like water from your fingertips to your elbow. He watched in horrified awe as the darkness solidified into a blade around your forearm, your hand having disappeared completely into a sharp point.

“Holy shit…” he breathed along with a terrifying realisation.

You were trying to kill him.

He called your name again as you lowered into a crouch, waiting for a beat before once again sprinting toward him, leaping with inhumane strength. There was a sharp clang as obsidian met metal, Logan’s claws unsheathing from his knuckles to meet your overhead blow. You wrenched your blade from between his crossed claws, launching into a flurry of swipes, slashes and kicks. With every strike, the shadows shifted to each limb with clinical precision, your movements timed to perfection.

Logan was meeting you blow for blow, though never striking back. He was purely on the defensive, simply trying to stop you from taking off his head or hands. He didn’t know how to get through to you, calling your name having absolutely no effect, and he was getting desperate. “You gotta st–” he flinched backwards to avoid yet another savage swipe. “Stop!” he shouted desperately, ducking below your slash and snatching your other wrist. He managed to make you pause long enough to look into your eyes.

Or, what used to be your eyes? Those captivating irises he’d come to know so well had been replaced by wells of nothingness, and if he hadn’t known any better, he’d say they were just a result of using your mutation to this extent. But he’d seen your eyes that first time you’d dragged shadows with you, they hadn’t been like this. This was something else altogether. You were completely absent. Hollow.

What the fuck?

Logan barked a cry as searing pain shot through his hand, that black blade piercing through his palm and through the back. He yanked back, flexing his fingers as he started to heal immediately, though blood still left his hand slick.

“Logan? What’s–” he whipped around to see Jean in the doorway, her eyes now fixed on you, mouth agape in horror. “Shit! Logan, step back!” she instructed, and he did so immediately. Looking back at you, he saw you didn’t move, though your muscles shook with the effort to do so. Jean was holding you fast, he could see sweat beading on her brow with the strain. “The Professor’s on his way now. Damn, she’s strong. You alright?” she asked, not taking her eyes from your immobilised form, your lips pulled up in a permanent snarl, your empty eyes darting between Logan and Jean.

Logan nodded a little hesitantly. “Yeah, ��m fine…” whilst it wasn’t exactly a lie, it wasn’t the whole truth either. Physically he’d always be fine, his healing factor always saw to that. But it wasn’t your deadly strikes that alarmed him. Nor the sniper precision of your blows. He would be fine with both of these things if it wasn’t for the unmistakable stench of fear.

Logan knew better than anyone, the more cornered the animal, the louder the snarl, the more viscous the bite. You weren’t acting on logic, you were acting out of fear. You were scared. He could smell the desperation to survive, the necessity to fight your way out. Your strikes had been cold and calculated, but every landed blow had a feeling of panic behind them.

But you’d told him your past. Where the hell could this have come from? Was it simply an inherent part of your mutation?

Answers could wait as he took a cautious step towards you, his hands held out before him. “It’s okay, you’re okay…” he soothed, glancing back to see the strain on Jean lessen slightly. He looked back at you. “It’s okay, we’re not gonna hurt ya, you’re safe,” he continued, ignoring Jean’s call of protest. “It’s me, yeah? It’s Logan. ‘M not gonna hurt ya, firefly. Never gonna hurt ya…” he reached out slowly, his heart breaking as your breathing quickened, wide eyes flickering between his hand and his face. If Jean hadn’t been holding you, he had an awful feeling you would have flinched away. Although, if Jean hadn’t been holding you, he had no doubts he’d be on the ground slowly healing from whatever you’d have done.

His palm gently cupped the side of your face and your breathing stopped altogether, void-like eyes staring endlessly into his, your brow creasing as if you were searching for something. He watched as you stopped struggling against Jean’s hold. “You’re alright, it’s just me. It’s just Logan…” You exhaled a breath, your eyes closing, visibly relaxing into his touch.

“What the fuck happened?!” your eyes flew open again, your head snapping to the doorway where Scott, Xavier and Ororo had just appeared, Scott’s fingers braced against his glasses. You only managed to swing your arm a few inches, Jean catching you before your blade pierced Logan’s gut. He jumped back, though instinctively positioned himself between Scott’s line of sight and your frozen form.

“Damnit Scott, we had her!” he seethed, wanting nothing more than to knock him to the ground. If he wasn’t so trigger-happy with his eyes, Logan would have done. But the hand on his sunglasses had him staying put.

“Charles I can’t hold her for much longer…” Jean strained, her hand shaking ever so slightly. Xavier placed two fingers against his temple, closing his eyes slowly.

“Let her go, Jean…” he instructed, and the woman instantly fell to her knees, Scott crouching by her side, his arm around her shoulders, though his eyes never left you. Logan turned back to where you’d been released, your chest heaving, head twitching slightly as Xavier invaded your thoughts. Your eyes screwed shut, your hands flew to your head, Logan only just managing to catch your bladed wrist before you sliced your ear off. He grit his teeth against the pain of the edge carving through his palm, but he didn’t let go. He’d endure it. He’d endure fucking anything if it meant you’d be safe.

You whimpered as your legs gave out, crumpling into his hold as he gently lowered you to the floor. It was a terrifying display, your body contorting and writhing, your back arching as if you were possessed whilst Charles worked to set you free or bring you back or whatever the fuck he was doing.

“C’mon sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s okay. I promise you’re safe. ‘M gonna look after you, yeah? You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe…” he kept whispering over and over in the hopes that wherever you were, you could hear him. You could follow his voice. Holding you against his chest, he grazed his lips against your hair as you started to slow, hearing your heartbeat begin to settle. You still twitched slightly here and there, but you’d stopped writhing.

When you fell still completely, Logan had to shakily check your pulse just to make sure you were still alive. Finding the slight but steady beating beneath his fingertips, he raised his eyes to the rest of the team, irises glittering with murderous intent. “What the fuck was that?” he snarled, looking at each mutant individually.

Ororo seemed the only one brave enough to step forward, Charles still occupied with your mind. “It… we saw this happen once before, around three years ago now. It was the night–”

“Jade died…” Logan finished, his features instantly softening as he looked back down at you, palm smoothing your hair from your face. “Why? Why does this happen?”

Charles removed his fingers from his temple, opening his eyes now you’d been placated.

“We don’t know…” Jean exchanged a glance with the Professor as Storm continued. She crossed the room to kneel by your side, now knowing you were unconscious and no longer dangerous. “We think anger might be a trigger.”

“She wasn’t angry,” Logan countered, his eyes not leaving your face. “She was scared. I could smell it. She was fucking terrified like we were…” he trailed off, not wanting to voice what he was thinking. It was like you thought he was trying to hurt you. You fought back out of self-preservation. “I don’t understand… she’s told me about her upbringing. Her childhood, I didn’t-” he cut himself off as he took your hand, eyes widening as he noticed something he hadn’t before. How the fuck had he not noticed this before?

A thin, heavy scar ran down the length of your wrist, a centimetre wide and a few inches long. His breath caught in his throat as he rushed to check your other hand, finding a mirrored mark. Running his thumb down the scar, his eyes flickered to Ororo’s, who looked away.

“Guess she hadn’t got round to telling you that yet…” she said by way of explanation. His heart shattered. It had been a long time since Logan had cried, but he felt hot tears line his eyes. The thought of you being low enough to attempt to take your own life, the possibility of you succeeding and he never got to meet you. To know you. To love you.

He gathered you back into his arms and held you close, tucking your head beneath his chin. He wanted to apologise. To apologise for not being there for you. For not even knowing you. It was illogical and pointless, but he wanted to make up for not always being there for you. For only coming into your life now.

“We should get her to the med bay,” Jean broke the silence, standing from where she was recovering on the floor, Scott’s arm still wrapped around her shoulder, steadying her.

“I can’t be the only one thinking what we should actually do, and what we should have done years ago. She’s unstable, there’s kids here for fuck’s sake!” Cyclops exclaimed, gesturing to the floors above.

Logan felt his anger bubble to the surface. He didn’t need to be telepathic to know what Scott was talking about, and there was no way in hell he was about to stand by and let this motherfucker neutralise you. “Why don’tcha say it out loud, Scott,” he snarled, baring his teeth. “Let everyone know what ya thinkin’.”

“Logan take a breath, nothing’s going to happen to her,” Ororo placed a calming hand on his shoulder, though he was too riled up to care. “Right Scott?” she prompted, and Scott scoffed loudly.

“Yeah, right. Though, not that it shouldn’t.”

Logan snapped. Passing your body to Ororo, he leapt from the ground, claws bursting through his knuckles as he thundered towards Scott, who was taking his arm from around Jean to grip his sunglasses in retaliation.

“That’s enough!” Xavier’s voice cut through both the air and Logan’s mind, and taking a glance to the group, everyone else had heard it in their heads as well. He ground to a halt, eyes glaring bloody murder at Cyclops. “Now is not the time to fight amongst ourselves. Storm, take her to the med bay. Jean, I need you in my office please. And you two,” he looked pointedly between Logan and Scott. “Find somewhere far away from each other.”

“Fine by me.”

“Not a problem,” they spoke in unison before Logan turned back to where Ororo was holding you in her lap. “I got her, just lead the way,” he spoke curtly, stooping to effortlessly pick you up, holding you tight in his arms. Storm nodded as she stood, dusting her knees off before heading for the door. Logan took a minute to look down at you, drinking in your unconscious appearance. He felt a pang of fear for you echoing throughout his chest, brows pinching as his eyes frantically flickered across your face.

“She’ll be okay Logan, just give her time,” Charles said gently, knowing to choose his words carefully.

“We don’t got time.” Was all he said in return, before following Storm out the door and to the med bay.

Time was simply a concept. Nothing mattered. You’d found yourself sinking into your mind, taking a backseat in your own body. Floating in water but breathing wasn’t impossible. It was peaceful, tranquil, the same kind of feeling when you were nestled against Logan’s chest in an evening, or standing by his side and instructing him how to perfect a sear on a steak.

Logan. Your chest surged as you thought of him, colours around you shifting and swirling from obsidian to the dark greens and browns you associated with his scent. Being around him. Content wore a new face, joy had a new feeling. Swirling colours became scenery as your bare feet touched grass. Wind kissed your cheeks as you looked around at the rolling hills surrounding, nothing but blue skies above you. Though you were confused, nothing could dampen your sense of ease. Pinewood and smoke wafted through the breeze and you turned but saw nothing.

“Come back.”

You turned again, laughing as if he’d told a joke. It was his voice, unmistakably. You guessed he was just in a playful mood. Your toes dug into the ground as you spun around, laughter bubbling from your chest.

“Where are you?” you called out, only your echoing voice answering from the hillside. The wind died down, birdsong quieting to nothing as you waited for his voice again.

“Come back to me.”

You whirled again, your smile slowly fading as you once again were met with nothing. “Logan? C’mon, this isn’t funny anymore!” you called out, hoping he would finally stop the games and come out. You could feel panic start to rise as you heard nothing in response. You spun and twisted, only to be met with silence and emptiness, the ease of the countryside now morphing into anxious loneliness. “Logan…?” you called out again weakly, your hand crossing your front to hold your arm in an attempt to bring some kind of comfort.

The next time you turned, your heart stopped and you stepped back. Seven humanoid shadows stood before you, their forms shifting like smoke. In unison, their heads cocked to the side. Like the shifting of emotions, the blue sky faded to grey, then to black. Angry, broiling storm clouds swirled overhead, and once again in unison, the shadows sank into the ground.

Fear gripped your heart as you tried to do the same, but found yourself unable to. You tried again, only to force yourself to your knees, the ground refusing to let you pass despite the darkness overhead. With a frustrated cry, you punched the earth with your fist, as if you were able to beat it into submission.

“Come back.”

This time his voice provided no comfort as you hung your head, tears stinging your eyes and falling into the grass, blades shifting slightly. “I want to…” you responded shakily, despair clawing at your mind, having no idea how. But you had to. It didn’t matter how. You just had to.

Standing back to your feet, you took a deep breath. You could do this. You could find your way back. With newfound determination, you took a step forward.

Only to find, the moment your foot touched the ground, a hand crawled from the shadow, wrapping around your ankle. Once again panic clawed at your chest as you tried to yank yourself free, watching in horror as one of those seven shadows rose from the ground, its humanoid body contorted and backwards, head twitching from side to side.

You tried to pull away. Tried to take a step back, only to find another holding your other foot, rising only far enough for its head and shoulders to reform from the ground. Another hand grabbed at your thigh, then another around your waist. You fought to free yourself, kicking and flailing as you felt the ground beneath you give way and you started to sink. A hand clawed down your back, another wrapped around your neck, silencing your desperate scream as your hand outstretched towards the dark sky above.

Your eyes went dark as those shadows gripped your face, obscuring your vision before all you could feel was nothing. You were nothing. And you were sinking.

Down. Down down you were dragged, those inky black hands weighing you down like a ball and chain through water, only this time you couldn’t breathe. You tried to scream again only to find yourself voiceless, bubbles of emptiness rising from your mouth.

You didn’t know how long you’d been drowning before light burst from above you and you inhaled a guttural breath, closing your eyes against the blinding white. When you managed to adjust to the light, you cracked open your lids, panic still flooding your veins. An operating theatre? No, it was too light. But judging from the instruments to your left, that’s exactly where you were. You tried to lift your head only to find coarse leather strapping you down. Trying to move your arms and legs resulted in the same conclusion.

A whimper escaped from the other side of the room, and you turned your head, eyes widening as you saw your brother, clad in some kind of hospital gown, tears streaming down his face. “Rowan…?” you croaked, your throat raw from what, you didn’t know.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered shakily, before agony flared through your body and you released a blood-curdling scream, fire reining free throughout your nerves, your limbs straining against the bonds holding you down.

‘We remember.’

Your eyes flew open as you sat bolt upright on the table, panic surging adrenaline through your system as you took in your surroundings. You were still there, in that room, just a different version of it. But you weren’t tied down, not this time. No, this time, you followed the wires hooking your body up to a monitor, the dips and valleys in the lines meaning nothing to you, only serving to fuel your fear.

You ripped the stickers from your body, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Whatever, or whoever was holding you clearly didn’t have the sense to leave you unattended. You might still be learning how to control your mutation, but that didn’t mean you weren’t dangerous.

Crossing to the drawers opposite, you tugged the top one open, rifling through the contents in the hopes of finding some kind of weapon. A scalpel, a knife, hell you’d take a staple gun at this moment. Anything that would help you escape this nightmare. You had to find Rowan. Why the fuck was he here? What the hell was going on? You brushed the questions to the side for now.

None of that mattered at the moment. Your sole goal was to find him and get the two of you out of here.

A slight sing sliced through your fingertip as you rifled through the second drawer, pulling out a small scalpel. It wasn’t ideal, but you figured it was better than nothing. Clutching it tightly in your hands, you cursed medical rooms for their bright white lighting, only finding singular shadows beneath the bed and around the desks. Nothing connected, so you couldn’t travel far.

You whirled at the slight whoosh of the doors behind you opening, holding the scalpel in front of you threateningly, attempting to still your trembling hand. Though it took your eyes a moment to register who you were looking at, you knew that voice and the way he softly called your name like the back of your hand.

Logan had only stepped out for a few moments, spending the last three days by your side, vigilant, unmoving. But upon the insistence of Jean, he’d taken seconds for himself to smoke a cigar and calm down. Every twitch of your body, every micromovement he noticed, every small cry of his name set him on edge, fighting the urge to pull the medical tags from your body and keep you safe up in his room, build a home for you there. He’d resisted purely because both Jean and Charles had said it was safer to monitor your brain and heart.

But now here you were, eyes wide, pointing a scalpel at him. He held his hands up, trying to show you he didn’t mean any harm. “It’s me…” he soothed as you looked around wildly as if trying to recognise your surroundings.

How was he here? Why was he here? Had they got him too? But he looked fine, dressed in his usual white singlet, worn jeans and brown flannel. “Logan?”

He breathed a sigh of relief, taking a slow step towards you. “Yeah,” he confirmed, noticing how you were still caught up in confusion and fear.

“Wh– where am I? Where are we?” you asked frantically, still keeping the small blade pointed towards him as he inched closer around the bed.

“We’re in the med bay, underneath the school. ‘S’okay, you’re safe here.” he explained slowly, gingerly reaching for the knife in your hand, his fingers wrapping around the warm metal as he gently took it from your grasp and set it down.

You let him take it from you, your heart settling in your chest as he encircled your wrist. “The school?” you asked, uncertainty lacing your tone. Logan nodded in confirmation, and you let loose a steadying breath. “What happened?” your voice was barely audible, shaking slightly as he guided you into his arms and enveloped you in a sense of security.

“You’re okay…” he breathed, not only to reassure you but to also reassure himself. For three days he’d sat by your bedside, listening to people tell him you were gonna be okay, but it was so fucking hard to believe them when you were lying unconscious on a medical bed, the only sound being the steady beep of the heart monitor you were hooked up to.

Seeing you here, on your feet, awake, set that fear to rest. He set his chin atop your head, closing his eyes as he breathed you in, your scent wrapping around his heart in a comforting embrace. You were safe. You were okay.

You allowed yourself to simply feel him, basking in his presence and the peace he brought you. Your arms slowly wrapped around his body beneath his shirt, clasping tightly at the back of his singlet. “I don’t understand…”

“I know. Neither do we, not fully. But we will, ‘kay? Promise,” he hoped it was enough to reassure you, but it was barely enough to reassure himself. “What d’you remember?” he asked pulling back slightly to cup a hand against your jaw, angling your face to look up at him.

You swallowed, brow furrowing as you tried to think back to the last thing you remember. “Training. We were training. You said we weren’t gonna focus on my mutation, and you challenged me to get out of your grip… that’s it,” you explained quietly, your eyes flickering between his own in search of some kind of answer. “That’s what happened with Jade, isn’t it? It was the same thing…” Logan nodded again, though almost imperceptibly as if he was afraid to confirm your own fears. “What happened?” you asked again, though this time a little firmer.

Logan took a breath, bracing himself for your reaction before he’d even spoken. “You tried to kill me…”

You instantly stepped out of his arms, and as much as he didn’t want to, he let you. Horror flickered across your face as you looked down at your hands as if you could see the blood staining them. You couldn’t do this again. You couldn’t kill someone else you loved because you couldn’t control yourself. “It wasn’t your fault, I pushed you too hard. I didn’t know this w–”

“Don’t.” you stopped him quietly, eyes staring, unblinking, at the white tiles beneath your bare feet. “Please don’t…” you inhaled shakily, balling your hands into fists by your side. “Scott was right.”

Logan froze, knowing exactly what you were referring to. He guessed what he suggested three days ago wasn’t the first time he’d said it. “The fuck he was. You lost control, that doesn’t make you a monster. Y’think half the kids here were monsters before they learnt how to control their mutations?”

“Half the kids here don’t try to kill the people they fucking care about!” you cried, feeling like he just wasn’t listening to you.

“No, they just do it by accident. Remind you of anyone?” He didn’t know how else to get you to see. You were no different from those who just hadn’t learnt to control it yet. “Why is it always so different when it comes to you, hm?” he took your hands in his own, begging you to understand.

“I don’t wanna kill you, Logan. I don’t know what I'd do if I did…” you looked up, tears silently sliding from your eyes. But Logan simply smiled.

“Then ain’t it peachy I can’t die. Hundred ‘n’ thirty still going strong,” he thumbed away the tears from your cheeks as you blinked in realisation. “Forgot that, didn’t ya?”

“Yeah… guess I did.” you tried to smile, but Logan could tell you were still burdened by guilt and grief. Planting a kiss on your forehead, he guided you back to the centre of his chest, wrapping you up again.

“We’ll figure it out, yeah? Whatever this thing is, we’ll figure it out. Charles can help you,” he promised, his hand stroking through the back of your hair. “And fuck Scott, he doesn’t know what he’s fucking talking about.” That earned him a teary chuckle against the crook of his neck.

“Fuck Scott,” You repeated, nestling closer into his embrace. “Thank you, Lo’.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he responded, pressing his nose against the top of your head, breathing in your distinct scent. “The good news is, you harnessed your mutation flawlessly.”

You looked up at him with slight awe, your mouth parted slightly. “Seriously?”

Logan nodded. “I almost brought ya back as well, so I’m thinkin’ we should–”

“Don’t even say it,” you interrupted, your chin resting against his chest. “Not a good idea.”

“Might be the only way,” he shrugged, delicately moving a strand of your hair from your face. “Think it over.” He prompted softly, his hand travelling from your jaw to your cheek, eyes lingering on your lips for a beat before he dipped down, capturing you in a soft kiss. Your lids fluttered closed, arms sliding from his back up to his neck, your fingers finding a home in his soft hair.

You groaned softly as his hands left your face to occupy your waist, lingering long enough to squeeze you gently before descending lower to your thighs and hoisting you against him. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, ankles crossed against the dip of his back.

Logan swallowed your gasp as his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, and he couldn’t tame his low growl of approval when you opened your mouth for him, your nails scratching lightly through his hair and tugging against the soft strands in a way that had his closed eyes rolling skyward. Carrying you back to the steel table, he set you down, his lips never detaching from yours even as your back touched the steel. Your ankles stayed crossed at his tailbone, and the way you arched your hips into his growing arousal had him groaning your name against your lips.

The sweet scent of your slick drove him fucking wild, and he knew he had to stop himself before he fucked you here and now on this godforsaken table. He drew back from you, jaw falling open as you dug your nails into his shoulders. Fuck you looked so good, a passionate flush dusted your cheeks, your lips slightly reddened from his mouth. He panted against you, attempting to catch his breath. “We can’t, n–”

“Not here, right?” you finished, frustrated irritation lacing your tone. “Then where, Lo’? Because so far, it hasn’t been anywhere.” You finished, sitting up as he pulled away from your legs. “What’re you so afraid of?” It was your turn to gently pry, hoping to gain insight as to why he always stopped just when things were getting good.

He looked away from you, tensing his jaw against your question. “‘M not afraid…”

“That’s a lie.”

His eyes shot back to look at you, recalling the last time he called you out. He’d used that same phrase, that same no-bullshit tone. Logan debated shooting back at you the same way you did back then, but at the same time, he wasn’t that petty. He could be petty, sure, but not that petty.

He ran a hand down the side of his face, taking a deep breath. He heard you shift on the table, your hand gently pulling his palm down. “I’m not made of glass, I won’t shatter.”

But that’s exactly what he was afraid of. “I– I’m good at controlling my instincts most of the time… but when I feel you like that… when I can smell how you react to me, it gets so much more difficult. I’m so afraid of hurting you,” he confessed, and you silently pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, Logan. Was your plan to just, not have sex this whole relationship?” you asked softly, watching as he processed the wording of your question.

“Well, no but, is that what this is…?” he asked slowly, and you raised a brow.

“I wouldn’t exactly call us friends, Lo’, but I guessed we never really discussed it…” you mused, not a single worry on your mind. You were what you were, labels didn’t really matter to you, and you had a feeling they didn’t matter to him either.

“Hate the title of boyfriend,” He wrinkled his nose and you snorted a laugh. “Makes me sound like some inexperienced kid.”

“How would I know how experienced you are, you refuse to have sex with me. Maybe it’s appropriate.” You teased, and Logan shot you a dark look full of even darker promises. “I’m not too bothered either way, to be honest. We don’t have to put a label on things. We’re just…”

“Together.” He finished, his dark glare softening at the words he uttered and how right they felt.

“Exactly. And you’re not the only one who can heal, remember?” You flashed him a grin now it was his turn to blink. “Now look who’s forgetting things.” He returned your smile before pulling you in for another lingering kiss, both his hands braced against the soft skin of your waist. He hadn’t forgotten about the scars on your wrists, nor the way you’d cried for him in your unconscious state, but he’d save those questions for later, for when you weren’t in the med bay still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing three days ago.

Not that he minded. You smelt irresistible.

Footsteps echoed in his ears from behind the door, and he separated from you. He glanced to the door in response to your look of confusion just as the two halves separated and Jean strode through, stopping immediately upon seeing you.

“You’re awake! How’re you feeling?” she asked, setting down her mug of coffee on the desk before crossing to the flatlined heart monitor and switching it off, the screen going dark.

“Physically or mentally?” you asked, a little sarcastically, and Logan had to pretend he was extremely interested in the screens around Jean’s desk, covering his mouth with his palm to hide his smile.

“You were out for three days, it’s only natural for me to ask.” She responded flatly, shooting Logan a pointed look which he chose to ignore.

“I’m fine. Weirded out and I wanna know why this keeps happening, but I’m fine.” You shrugged, wanting nothing more than to head up to your room, shower until you burn off all of your skin, and fall into bed. Preferably with Logan by your side, but you’d take what you could get with that whole situation.

Jean shifted on her feet, busying herself with the monitor, and Logan picked up the distinct scent of discomfort. “The Professor’s working on it, for now, he wants you to rest, maybe take a break from training and teaching, too.”

You scoffed, standing up from the table. “He gonna send me away for another two years, yeah? Keep the big bad wolf away from the children? Just in case I go ape-shit again and commit mass murder. Seems like a sound plan, worked last time, didn’t it? Oh, except it didn’t, because I’ve only been back two months and the same fucking thing happened. Only this time we got lucky because Claws over here can’t fucking die” You spat, annunciating every fucking syllable.

Logan shifted his gaze to you, giving you a look as if to ask why he was being dragged into this. You responded with something he could only interpret as apologetic. Good enough.

“It wasn’t like that–”

“It was and you know it, don’t you?” Logan chimed in, suddenly feeling the need to rush to your defence. You’d already been through enough today, you didn’t need to be gaslit to be added to the pile. “Just like you know more about what’s going on here, right?” He raised a brow, coming to stand by your side, an arm braced against your shoulder.

Whatever Logan had noticed, you trusted his instincts, staying silent as Jean straightened, her gaze steely. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Logan,” she responded plainly, before turning to you. “And since you seem well enough to wander around and rifle through my equipment, I’d say you’re well enough to head out.” It was as rude as Jean was ever going to get without being unprofessional and telling you to get the fuck out.

You raised your head, narrowing your eyes in challenge, before deciding that maybe scrapping so soon after you woke up was a bad idea. So instead you turned on your heel, striding out the door with your dignity and without leaking blood.

Logan fell into step beside you, his palm resting at the small of your back. “Ya know, she could barely contain you when you went all… freaky. You’re strong as shit.” He smirked down at you, and your eyes widened along with your smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You both entered the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. “Fuckin’ A.” You grinned, and if he was being honest with himself, Logan didn’t think he’d ever been more proud of you.

“I’ll be below so if you need anythin’, just shout, I’ll hear ya,” Logan instructed so sincerely your heart skipped a beat. After insisting he made you a rudimentary evening snack of grilled cheese, he’d escorted you up the stairs and into your room and was now looking into your eyes with such seriousness it made you laugh a little.

“Logan, I’m taking a shower, not heading into the Colosseum. Though, you’d know all about that, right? What were the Romans like?” you asked, feigning innocence when he rolled his eyes. “What? I’m curious.”

“Glad ya feelin’ better, freak.” He flicked your forehead and you chuckled, not bothering to swipe his hand away. “If you need anything–”

“Howl at the moon three times and spin in a circle yeah Logan I get it. Now clear off so I can shower, I smell like a dead horse.” You shooed him away, but he caught both your hands in one of his own, his bare arms flexing as he pulled you closer so he could lean into your ear.

“You smell fucking delicious,” he growled and your knees almost buckled. Fuck, how could he do that with one small phrase? “But I’ll let ya go, see you later.” He pecked a kiss to your lips, brows raising in surprise when you leaned into him in a much more passionate display before you pulled away far too quickly for his liking.

“See you in a bit!” you beamed, before heading into your ensuite and shutting the door, leaving him standing breathless in the middle of your room.

You were gonna be the fucking death of him. If he could die, that is.

To say your shower was refreshing was an understatement. Scalding water seared your skin slightly, leaving behind delicious tingles of cleanliness as you scrubbed the last three days of unconsciousness from your skin, using the wild bluebell shower gel Ororo had gifted you for Christmas last year. It was definitely one of your favourite scents –other than pinewood, smoke and whiskey, obviously– but it was the gel you used the least out of fear of running out of it. You lathered your skin, shivering slightly as you remembered the way Logan was holding you earlier. The way his fingers dug into your thighs, the way he squeezed your waist.

You had to shake yourself back to reality before you used all the water in the goddamn mansion. Quickly rinsing yourself, you switched off the shower and snatched the towel hanging from the hook on the back of the door and opened the window to let out some of the steam. Drying yourself off, you vaguely hoped your plants would forgive you for neglecting them for three days, though a delusional part of you said they’d understand.

Maybe you were losing your mind.

You finished up moisturising your face, rubbing in the last bits of cream and securing your towel around your chest before opening the door to your room, steam rolling from the bathroom and onto your sad-looking tropical plants, who you swore instantly perked up.

“Yeah yeah, no need to be so dramatic Herbert, I’m sure you can survive three days without me.” You said to your Herringbone Plant. You found that naming them and giving them all personalities helped with the development and growth… or so you told yourself.

You crossed to your built-in wardrobe, pausing as you saw an incredibly familiar flannel on your window seat. You had a vague recollection of Logan setting it down when he took a seat there, the two of you talking for a minute of thirty before you finally remembered you needed a shower.

Considering how little he seemed to talk to the rest of the teachers here, it served to make you feel pretty damn special the way he would talk for hours with you. You smiled thinking about it, picking up the shirt and feeling the material beneath your fingers. It still smelt like him, and your smile widened further.

There was a quick knock at your door, and you barely had time to welcome whoever it was before it opened. “Sorry, forgot my– fuck.”

Logan stood in your doorway, his eyes shamelessly looking you up and down, from your heat-flushed collar to the tops of your thighs where your towel cut off, down to your feet before trailing back up. “Fuck…” he repeated, and your breath quickened just like that.

Maybe he could die. Because there was no possible way he’d just survived looking at you this way. You looked edible, for fuck’s sake, and he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into the side of your neck and listen to you whimper beneath him. He closed his eyes against the images plaguing his mind, hoping to hell neither Charles nor Jean were prowling around the mansion’s minds.

“Looking for this?” you asked, your tone laced with faux innocence as you held up his shirt. “Shame, I was just about to see how good it looked on me.” You pouted, and Logan closed the door with the back of his foot in response.

“Don’t let me stop you.” His eyes were dark, pupils blown with lust as he watched you thread your arms through the sleeves that were much too big for you.

Oh, you were having too much fun with this game, making sure the flannel covered your ass as you turned away from him, letting the towel fall from around your chest to pool at your feet. You grinned wildly at his audible groan as you started feeding the buttons through their respective holes, stopping just low enough that your nipples were covered, but not much else.

You took a step back, glancing at your appearance in your floor-length mirror on the opposite side of your room. “Think it suits me, personally,” you turned, placing a hand on your waist, accentuating just how baggy his clothes were on you. “Don’t you?”

Logan’s chest heaved at the sight of you in his clothes. His clothes. Your hips swayed as you sauntered towards him, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans and tugging him closer. His breath hitched as you traced your fingertips across his naval, only briefly dipping below the waist of his jeans, untucking the white singlet he was wearing. “Cat got your tongue?” your voice was as softly teasing as your fingers, his entire body shivering as your hands skirted beneath the white fabric, your palm cooler against his heated skin.

“You’re playin’ with fire, sweetheart.” He grit as you thumbed the thick vein pulsing just inside his hip bone. That sweet scent of your arousal hit him like a truck as you leaned up to his ear, biting softly at the sensitive skin just beneath.

“Then ain’t it just peachy I can heal?” you used his phrasing from before, and it was Logan’s undoing. Ducking back, he crashed his lips onto yours, your mouth eagerly parting to allow his thick tongue to dance with yours. He wrenched your hands from his front, throwing them around his neck as he lifted you from the floor in exactly the same way he did not an hour ago.

Though this time you moaned freely as your core pushed against the steadily growing steel in his jeans. He bucked his hips in response, growling as you both all but fell onto the bed, your hands tightening their rough grip in his hair. He let his eyes roll as he nipped the supple flesh of your lips, trailing open-mouthed kisses down to your chin, over your jaw and into your neck. His tongue smoothing the sharp bites he left against your skin.

“Logan…” you breathed his name when he found the scar on the side of your neck, your hands clawing at his shoulders when he sucked a small bruise against the mark. You gasped, tilting your head up to provide him with easier access.

His hands had been trailing up and down your sides, venturing beneath his shirt, feeling your bare skin against his palm. Your chest inflated as he teased the underside of your breasts with his fingers, and he nipped against that spot on your neck at the same time as encasing your breasts in his hands. You whimpered beneath him and it was everything he’d dreamed of, and so much more.

“Fuck, sweetheart you’re killin’ me.” He groaned as you wrapped your legs around his waist again, pulling his clothed cock closer to your core. His hands squeezed and groped at the soft skin of your chest, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pinching just hard enough to hear you gasp again.

He could tell you were getting impatient, your hands trailing down his back to the hem of his singlet, pulling it up to his shoulders. He drew back from you briefly, sitting on his heels and pulling the top over his head. You swore you drooled.

“Holy shit Lo’, you’ve been keepin’ this from me?” You followed him up, your legs still wrapped around his hips as your hands found the muscles of his abs, drinking in every valley, plain and peak of his physique. Your fingers grazed up through the hair dusting his chest, bracing against the hard plateaus of his pecs. “Fuck me…” you breathed in disbelief, and Logan responded with a wild smirk.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” he trailed off, hands cupping the sides of your neck as he brought you in for another searing kiss. Logan gently pushed you back down on the bed, swallowing your low moans of need. His fingers deftly plucked at the buttons of his shirt, exposing more of your body for his hands to feast on. He pulled back again to shove the material off your shoulders, dragging it from beneath you to discard on the floor. “Gorgeous.” He uttered under his breath.

You were completely bare before him, and his eyes locked onto every perfect imperfection on your body, from the various scars on your chest and stomach to the small dents left behind by his own fingertips. You panted softly, placing a foot against his shoulder just as he went to lean back down and hold your lips hostage once again.

“Even this up, Howlett.” You breathed, and Logan turned his head to nip your ankle sharply. Though before he could even think about loosening his belt, you’d already surged forward, your hands flying to the buckle at his waist, your head ducking into the crook of his neck you so often liked to nestle into. Only this time you bit savagely, earning yourself a surprise, husky groan.

There was a soft clink of metal as you pulled at the leather around his waist, placing it within arm’s reach. Just in case, you told yourself as you licked at the slight salt of his clavicle. You popped the button of his jeans, careful to pull down the zipper before shoving the rough fabric down below his hips. Logan tugged them the rest of the way, shoving them somewhere with the rest of the discarded clothes.

You fell back against the pillows of your bed, unable to stop yourself from biting your lip as you devoured the sight of his tented briefs, his heaving chest and dark eyes. Crawling back over your sprawled form, Logan dipped back to your neck, ghosting his lips down across your collarbones, his tongue lavishing the dip between the bone and your throat, before descending further between your breasts.

He nipped at the soft flesh, his mouth fluttering from left to right as if he couldn’t pick which one he wanted to devour. Your back arched in desperation, pushing your pebbled nipples further into his face before he sucked one into his mouth, teething slightly the sensitive skin. You gasped his name, your nails returning to his sinewy shoulders as pleasure coursed through your veins, one of your hands reaching up to grip the headboard behind you. Fuck he was good at this, switching between sucking softly and nipping sharply, before releasing your breath with a gentle pop, only to devour the other.

Your hips bucked against his abdomen and he moaned against you, grinding his desperate cock against the soft fabric of your duvet. He wanted to taste you first, wanted to feel you on his tongue before he even thought about fucking you. His hands replaced his mouth on your breasts as he travelled further down your body, biting and sucking every scar he came across before he was nestled sweetly between your thighs, drowning in the sickly sweet scent of your dripping arousal glistening between your thighs, the coarse, dark hair around your cunt now completely damp.

Anticipation set your nerves alight as you waited for him to do something, anything. And you threw your head back when his lips settled on your inner thigh, finding yet another scar for his tongue and teeth to explore. You whined softly, needily when he skipped your pussy completely, moving to the other side and leaving a mess of bruises for you to inspect later.

“Fuck Logan, do something!” You managed to grit, feeling his huffed laughter fan your aching cunt.

“I am doing somethin’ baby. Wanna be more specific?” he teased lightly, fingers tracing circles against your outer thigh. You bucked your hips towards his face, grinding into thin air. You called to him like a siren calls to a lost sailor, and he was all too happy to fall into the ocean for you as long as he was allowed to stay here for the rest of his long life.

“Fuck me with your tongue goddamnit!” you spat impatiently, and he grinned victoriously. His grip tightened against your thighs as he dragged you down and onto his face, his lips instantly latching onto your swollen clit.

You pitched back, spine arching as you pinched your lips together to stop yourself from crying out. Bolts of electric pleasure struck each and every nerve, setting you on fire as you writhed beneath his tongue, your hands darting to his hair, dragging him to where you needed him most.

Logan’s deep groan reverberated against your throbbing pearl, adding another layer to your ecstasy, and you barely managed to make a mental note that he liked his hair pulled before you were drowning in honey-laced lightning once again.

You tasted better than he could ever imagine, and he’d imagined this a lot in the last two months. Your slick like morning dew on his tongue, he ate you out as if he were starved. He guessed he was, in a way. Starved of having you like this, a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him. It fucked with his head, the way you sounded so submissive and yet the grip in his hair was anything but. His cock throbbed with each tug, tip leaking copiously as one of his hands shifted from the outside of your thigh to inside, teasing your throbbing entrance with his fingertips.

Your mouth hung open as he slowly inserted a thick finger, your walls clamping down as if he would try to escape. Logan latched onto your clit once again, sucking along with every pulse of his wrist, the pad of his fingertip massaging that delicious bundle of nerves hidden inside your cunt.

Back arching, chest heaving, you held his head exactly there, not letting him move as you could feel those knots tighten and tense, the thread of your arousal building to snap into a mind-blowing orgasm. Your hips undulated in time to the pumps of his finger and the sucks of your clit, riding his face with each pulse of hot pleasure.

You couldn’t stop your pitched whine as he slowly inserted a second finger into your tight cunt, curling them against your liquid heat. You gasped his name to the sky above, managing to crack your eyes open and look down to where he’d made a home between your thighs.

Sensing your gaze on him, Logan raised his eyes to yours. Your pinched brows, flush face, and gaping mouth were all the encouragement he needed to tongue-fuck you with renewed vigour, lapping at your leaking essence with reckless abandon.

“Fuck! F–fuck, Logan… ‘m gonna cum. G’gonna– gonna make me cum!” you warned, and he responded with nothing but a dark, sadistic smirk as he ground his fingers against that spot that made you see stars.

With another, long suck of your clit, you came undone, the wire finally snapping as you barrelled into your orgasm. Your hands clawed at the sheets by your head, your back arched off the bed with a soft cry of his name. Logan held you fast against his face, eliciting a deep moan, loudly slurping your release like it would in any way satiate his thirst for you. But it only served as an aphrodisiac for his own neglected desires.

Shadows trembled around the room as you panted with each wave of ecstasy, your hips bucking with no rhyme or reason against his face until the pleasure became a little too much, a little too intense, and you had to tug him away by his hair, gasping as you were met with resistance before he acquiesced.

You felt like you were floating, basking in the cloud-like afterglow of your high, only to be brought back by Logan’s hand cupping your face, guiding you to look at him and his smug smirk.

“Still with me?” he asked cockily, and you didn’t have the mind to do anything but nod and laugh lightly.

“Yeah, just about. I take it back… You’re definitely experienced…” you breathed and he hummed a chuckle against your cheek.

“Been around for a while, you learn a thing or two,” he grinned before his jaw went slack with a silent moan. He hadn’t noticed your hand move from beside your head, only realising when you palmed his steel cock through his briefs. You gently pushed his shoulder until he rolled onto his back, swinging your leg over his waist to seat yourself atop his aching heat, rolling your hips slightly and watching as his head fell back, neck exposed for you.

Leaning down, you licked a long stripe up his throat and along the rough stubble beneath his bearded jaw, pinching his ear between your teeth. You tugged slightly, and his hands braced against your waist, guiding you to continue your movements with your hips. You wanted to take your time with him the same way he did with you, but your desperation to feel him inside of you outweighed your yearning to both hear and taste him cum on your tongue.

Sitting back on your heels, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs, dragging them down over his muscular thighs, smirking slightly as his cock sprang back to lightly slap against his naval. He was fucking delectable, flushed tip leaking clear slick, veins pulsing down either side of his shaft. You pushed down the want to trace them with your tongue as you shoved his fabric past his knees.

Logan kicked off his briefs a little too eagerly, and if he wasn’t so drunk off arousal, he would check his behaviour. But the truth was, he didn’t care. Not in this moment. Not when you scooted back a little to take his member in your hands, slowly sliding your palms up and down.

“Shit darlin’, like that. Fuck, just like that…” he groaned lowly, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you circled his tip with the centre of your palm. His hips bucked into your grip as you alternated your hands, using a corkscrew motion that had him squeezing his eyes shut, every sense consumed by the pleasure you were giving him.

You thumbed down one of those pulsing veins and watched as he inhaled sharply, bearing his teeth in a silent, heated snarl. Biting your lip, you rose on your knees, leaning forwards before sinking onto his cock.

Your back arched as he filled you, stretching your needy cunt deliciously. A long, low moan rose from the depths of Logan’s chest as you seated yourself fully, your cunt pulsing rhythmically around his sensitive heat. Taking a moment to adjust to the feeling, your nails sank into the muscles of his chest, slowly clawing down to his naval and watching as his brows pinched in desperation.

If you were feeling a little meaner, you’d have made him wait. But you’d both waited long enough, so you languidly rolled your hips, mouth falling open as his tip grazed the spot his fingers had been massaging not moments ago. “Logan…” you uttered breathlessly, falling into a steady tempo.

The shadows of the room quivered and shifted along with your movements, and you felt an itch along your back up to your shoulder blades. Logan cracked his eyes open, watching as the darkness around the room morphed into those same two, broad wings he’d seen that first time your mutation flared. However, nothing was threatening about the sight. If anything, seeing the way they flexed and fluttered as you picked up your pace filled him with a sense of wonder. Fuck you were so fucking beautiful.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you, fighting with his instincts to pound up into you in favour of savouring the way your hips ground against him, your cunt squeezing him in a vice grip, obsidian wings extending towards the edges of your room. Rising into a sit, you whimpered softly with the slight jostle, before downright crying out as his fingers grazed the shadowy membrane.

You panted into his parted lips, barely able to form a thought other than how fucking good he felt inside you as you bounced on his cock, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and clawing red hot lines down the thick muscles of his back. Logan growled in your ear, no longer able to resist the urge to fuck up into your molten ecstasy.

“You’re so fuckin’ good sweetheart. Feel so fuckin’ good.” he groaned, moving his hand from your wind to your waist, encouraging your movements. He could tell you were close, your thighs shaking slightly both with the effort and the pleasure, your pitched whimpers fanning his neck as you buried your head, nipping and biting in the space where his shoulder met his throat.

“‘M so fucking close… fuck ‘m so close!” you gaped, nails still scratching down his back, earning yourself yet another delicious growl. Logan bucked his hips, pulling your head back from his neck by your hair to look him in the eye. He wanted to watch. Craved the sight of you losing control on his cock, because of his cock. The hand on your waist skirted down between your thighs, fingers expertly playing with your clit as you crested your high.

Head thrown back, spine arched, you exploded in euphoria, pleasure coursing through your body like a tidal wave, crashing on the shore. Your wings flared in either direction, shaking as he continued to grind his tip deep inside you, rubbing your swollen, sensitive pearl ruthlessly. Breathing came second to feeling, unable to inhale as you all but seized up completely, your muscles trembling along with every wave of your orgasm.

Logan panted against the hollow of your throat, all and any self-control quickly dissolving as he recklessly flipped you both over, your clock and lamp clattering to the floor as the tips of your void-like wings swept beneath you, his hands gripping the pillow beside your head.

Seeing you cum on him like that, feeling your walls tightened and quiver, Logan lost every semblance of self-control he was clinging to. Sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh of your neck, he pounded into you relentlessly. Pure, unadulterated pleasure spiked through his system as you whimpered and whined beneath him, your nails clutching his shoulders, breaking the skin and clinging on.

“Fuckin’ perfect for me. Shit darlin’, squeezing me so good.” He snarled before his teeth returned to the dents he’d made against your neck. He tasted iron as he bit down and you cried out in pain-addled pleasure, dragging your sharp nails from his shoulders, down either side of his spine, to the dip in his back. Your ankles locked around his waist, and it was his undoing.

Logan’s hips stuttered as he utterly lost control, his staggered groan muffled by the skin of your neck, eyes screwed so tight he saw stars. His fingers gripped the fabric on either side of your head, razor-sharp claws ripping through the threads and sinking into the headboard as he hit his climax, bucking with each spasm of ecstasy flooding his veins. His cock reached new depths as he filled you so completely, anchoring deep within your cunt. Muscles flexing and contracting, he rode out his orgasm as your tight walls milked him for all he was worth, before he almost collapsed into you, his chest heaving.

He struggled to recall a time when he’d cum so fucking hard, his ears almost ringing as those sharp bolts of pleasure started to recede and he pulled his teeth from your neck, tongue swiping up the small trickles of blood he’d drawn.

Were you still alive? Honestly, you couldn’t tell, feeling so weightless you were sure your soul had left your body. You only knew you were still clutching to the mortal coil because of the satisfying scratch in your shoulder blades as those shadows returned to the room, leaving you with just your corporeal body.

Logan rose on his arms, his claws retracting into his knuckles as he looked down at you, and you looked up at him, both speechless. Why the fuck had the two of you waited so long to do that. Your brows pinched as he pulled out of you, his hand cupping the side of your face. Since neither of you could form words, he encouraged you to speak through your lips, moulding his own against your mouth.

And you poured every ounce of your adoration into him, arms circling his shoulders, holding him close. You could feel his grin growing before he drew back from you, sweat sliding down his brow.

You responded by mirroring his smile, laughter bubbling from your chest. “Holy shit…” you manage to breathe as he rolled off you, drawing you into his tight embrace.

He inhaled deeply, basking in the scent of flowers, iron, sweat and sex. “Yeah…” was all he could say, still finding himself reeling a little. “Sorry ‘bout your neck. And your pillows. And headboard… and lamp……” he paused sheepishly. “And the clock.”

You giggled madly as he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him and using you almost as a blanket. You folded your arms across his chest, Bracing your chin atop the backs of your hands and gazed up at him whilst he got comfortable, an arm propped up behind his head. “Please, I think a clock and lamp are worth possibly the best sex I’ve had in my life.” You smirked, bending your legs at the knee for your heels to rest at your tailbone.

“Yeah? Better than the infamous Shots Shack bin shed?” he teased, cocking a brow.

“Know your limits, Howlett,” You bit back, to his deep chuckle of amusement. Letting the silence settle for a moment, you allowed yourself to reflect on what had just transpired, blinking in realisation as you remembered. “Did… did I pull the shadows…?” you asked slowly, and Logan’s smile widened to a toothy grin.

“Yep. Now that I think about it… this might be a good way to train.” You smacked his chest, your face a picture of faux scandal.

“Logan Howlett, are you suggesting we have sex every time we train?” You asked in mock offence, unable to keep your façade as he genuinely debated it for a moment. “Not sure Charles would be too pleased. Or Scott, for that matter.”

“I’m sure they’d get over it,” he responded and you snorted a laugh, rising from his chest to sit at his side, stretching your sore arms and back. Your neck throbbed a little, but honestly, you didn’t mind, it served as a reminder of the pleasure you’d just shared. It was the best kind of pain.

The idea of showering now filled you with dread. You couldn’t be fucking bothered, realistically. Besides, Logan seemed to like it when you smelt like a dead horse earlier. Settling on your decision, you tugged at the duvet beneath you both, clambering beneath the soft blanket and snuggling into his side, an arm slung across his front, ear pressed against the beat of his heart.

A fond smile pulled at his lips as he looked down at you nestled against his chest, your deep sigh fanning his pecs. It had been far too long since he’d felt peace like this. Far too long since he’d felt this kind of comfort, it almost made his eyes water, only now recognising how fucking lonely he’s felt.

Sinking back into the pillows, Logan’s arms wrapped around your tired form, holding you close. God fucking help anything or anyone that dares try and take this away from him. He’d lost too much, and though he was terrified of losing you too, it only solidified that he’d fight claw, tooth and nail to keep you safe.

Your breathing steadied as you succumbed to the exhaustion and slow, soothing swipes of Logan’s thumb against your waist. It would take a while for him to fall asleep, and he wished he’d had the foresight to bring a cigar with him when he came to retrieve his flannel. But just like you with your shower, the idea of even leaving the bed wasn’t even worth entertaining, let alone the idea of leaving you.

So instead he simply lay with you, listening to the sound of your breathing and the beat your your heart, until sleep knocked at the door of his mind, and he closed his eyes.

Only to snap awake mere hours later. What the time was, he had no idea, your clock at been knocked to the ground in the tryst. You’d both shifted in your sleep and whilst your head was still buried in his chest, he’d turned to face you.

Logan’s eyes blinked against the darkness, adjusting rapidly to the severe lack of light. Something was off. He could sense it.

Silently, his claws fed through his knuckles, instinctively moving his hands from your body as he slowly raised his head.

And froze solid.

Seven humanoid figures draped in smoking shadow stood around the bed, heads cocked to the same side as if their necks had been snapped. His pulse quickened, adrenaline pumping through his veins, fight or flight response triggered.

Although, there was never much flight involved when it came to Logan. He didn’t move, not out of fear, but to not provoke anything. They stood unnaturally still, simply watching with eyeless faces. You shifted in your sleep, and Logan spared a glance at your vulnerable state, his protective instincts flaring wildly at this unknown threat.

Simultaneously, they all began to sink into the floor, and Logan watched with subdued horror as their bodies faded into the darkness as you stirred awake.

“Lo’? You ‘kay?” you asked groggily, your eyes heavy with sleep.

He nodded. “Fine. Heard something ‘s’all.” He lied, though making a promise to tell you the truth once the sun had risen. “Probably just one of the kids. Go back to sleep,” he smoothed your hair from your face as he settled back next to you, wrapping you up safely in his arms. You breathed deeply, murmuring something even he couldn’t comprehend before you were dragged once again back to sleep.

Logan stayed awake until long into the small hours of the morning, watching the room with vigilance, glancing it at you with each slight sound you made in your sleep. But whatever those things were, they didn’t return that night.

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sleepingsun501 · 7 months

Text

Shared Experiences

(Part 1, Part 2 tbd)

Pairing: OFC Sellé x Fives x OMC Aergad

Summary: Fives takes the chance at a threesome and being shared.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (Minors DNI)

Warnings: Threesome F/M/M, smut, bisexuality, hand-job, established open relationship between OCs, dirty talk, praise.

Word Count: 3.2k

Ao3 link

A/N: MINORS GET OUT OF HERE!! Hello everybody, it's been a while since I wrote much of anything. Been working way too much for my own good with not enough time to be creative. This has been sitting in my wips forever, and there will be a Part 2 eventually. For now, I hope you enjoy Fives being the bi king he is!!

Shared Experiences

Fives was no stranger to what went on behind closed doors in the storage closets and refreshers of 79’s. More often than not, he was the one who would run off to a vacant space with a willing partner in tow, but tonight, he had been pulled into the darkness of a hallway by a gorgeous, feisty Twi’lek woman.

“Fucking hell, Sellé,” he moaned, gripping the plush of her hips as she nipped at his neck. With her bright reddish-orange skin under the singular overhead light, she was nearly luminous in the dim hall, but her gold eyes were dark with want.

Sellé trailed her lips across Fives’ neck and jaw as she pressed a hand against his codpiece, holding his back to the wall. Even beneath the plastoid, she could tell he was getting harder as he rutted into her palm and grinned down at her.

“Take me right here, soldier,” she whispered against his sweaty skin. “I don’t want to wait anymore. Watching you all night has been torture.”

Fives shifted down to scoop her up, his hands full of her perfect ass as he pushed her little black skirt up her hips. In just a few steps, he was pressing her against the back wall, trapping her in a cage of blue and white armor.

She gasped as he pressed a thigh between her legs. The plastoid ridge put the most exquisite pressure on her sensitive folds and clit as he traced his tongue over the black ring piercing in the center of her bottom lip, begging for entrance.

Before he could draw a breath, Sellé invaded first, licking into his mouth and capturing his lower lip in her sharp teeth to pull him closer. He let out a sultry growl at the slight pain, but ground his hardening cock against her belly, wishing she had unclipped his codpiece first.

“Come on, Fives…” she begged with a needy gasp, gyrating her hips as his armor rubbed against her rapidly dampening core.

He pulled a glove off, chuckling and nibbling at her ear cone playfully as he worked her black lace panties aside. His goatee scratched against the hot skin of her neck as he prodded her entrance, and the drag of her nails in his hair sent a shiver rocketing from the crown of his head to the base of his spine. Every little sound she made went straight to his cock, and he was eager to feel more of her wet heat on his fingers.

He explored her folds expertly as she hooked her leg around his hip, pulling him closer and proving her impatience. Fives had no problem fucking her right there if that was what she desired, but her breathy whimpers suddenly turned to a fit of giggles, causing him to pause.

“What’s so funny, baby? Did that tickle or something?” he asked, confused and pulling back to study her. He was no expert on Twi’lek anatomy, but he had never had much trouble pleasing a woman of any species before.

Sellé bit her kiss-swollen bottom lip, looking suddenly adorably shy and trying to hide her smirk as her seductive gaze flicked past him. “No, but… we seem to have caught my boyfriend’s attention.”

Fives’ eyes nearly bugged out of his skull, and his stomach felt as if it had dropped to the floor.

“Your what?!” he exclaimed, quickly setting her firmly on her feet and whirling around. Although he had never been truly picky about his partners, Fives was no homewrecker and detested the idea of cheating. “You didn’t tell me you were here with someone!”

From the lights pulsing brightly just beyond the entrance to the hallway, he could make out the shadow of a tall figure leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed.

The seconds seemed to drag by as the figure lazily pushed off the wall and drew closer with long, slow strides. He could tell it was not another clone from the way the man moved, but Fives felt the panic start to rise in his chest when he noticed a crown of small, spiked vestigial horns encircling the man’s head.

Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. He’s a Zabrak.

Fives had two options: either he was going to have to very convincingly talk his way out of this predicament, or fight his way out. Even with his venerable skills as an ARC trooper, the last thing he wanted at the moment was a scrap with an angry man of a species known for their natural brute strength.

“Don’t stop just for me,” the man suddenly said with a low chuckle. “I like to watch her have fun.”

Fives’ wary eyes flicked between the two of them as the man stepped into the dim light. He was a bit taller than Fives, leaner with a gentle grace about him, and looked as though he had no intention of picking a fight. As if to prove it, the Zabrak smirked at them as he affectionately brushed Sellé’s high cheekbone with his knuckle.

“Oh, please,” she huffed, rolling her eyes and distractedly playing with the end of one of her lekku. “You like to do a lot more than that.”

“Wait a minute,” Fives said, holding up his hands and looking between the couple again. He needed more information. “You’re both okay with this?”

“Relax, Fives, Aergad isn’t going to hurt you,” she said reassuringly, placing a hand on his vambrace and nuzzling up to him. “I like being shared, too, you know. Would you be interested in something like that?”

Fives gave Aergad an inquisitive look, his forehead wrinkling in surprise, and the Zabrak nodded suggestively.

The prospect of sharing a female partner, with someone other than Jesse for a change, had piqued Fives’ interest intensely. Although he was not entirely sure of the dynamic that existed between Sellé and Aergad, he was not about to pass up an opportunity to have a woman screaming with pleasure if she wanted him. Taking a quick, steadying breath, he made up his mind.

“I-I… uh… I wasn’t expecting this,” Fives’ stammered, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as an involuntary grin spread across his face, “but y-yeah, I’m game.”

Nearly giddy with excitement, Sellé stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss Fives’ scruffy cheek and began pulling him back out of the hallway. Aergad wore a cocky smile as he clapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly as he passed, following on their heels.

The crammed cab ride to their apartment was thankfully short. If it had been any longer, Fives would have pushed up Sellé’s tight skirt again and had her cockwarm him because she would not quit wiggling in his lap. The warm, sugary vanilla scent of her skin was intoxicating, and he particularly enjoyed the way she would dig her nails into his neck every time he gave her ass a squeeze.

“Easy, Sel,” Aergad said, playfully admonishing her. “I doubt he wants to cum in his armor.”

“He’s right, sweetness. I’d prefer to cum in you,” Fives muttered, kissing the little black, diamond-patterned tattoo resting at the base of her throat. As she ground her hips down into his lap again and giggled her approval, he hazarded a glance back at Aergad, realizing they had not yet discussed any ground rules. “That okay with you?”

Aergad’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he gave Fives a sexy wink while he unabashedly readjusted himself in his pants, watching Sellé squirm with delight.

“If I’m okay with it, he’s okay with it, handsome. It’s safe for you to cum in me all you want. Let’s talk more about this inside, though. We’re here,” she said, scooting off Fives’ lap and out of the cab.

As he followed them into the turbolift to their upscale apartment, Fives found it a bit odd that Aergad was so willing to let his girlfriend so lewdly seduce and fondle another man right in front of him—a complete stranger, no less. However, he conceded that unless they had anything other than a healthy open relationship, he would have been grappling on the sticky floor of 79’s.

Sellé practically dragged them both down the hall and shoved them inside the apartment when they got to their floor, and promptly asked Fives to help unlace the back of her corseted top. With such an edgy beauty proudly shedding her clothing for him, it was extremely difficult for Fives to take his eyes off of her.

She let the corset fall to the floor, revealing more diamond-patterned tattoos flowing along the curves of her back, and shivered as Fives traced them with gentle caresses of his fingertips. He pulled her close as his hands wrapped around her waist with her tattoos, kissing her neck and giving her waist an affectionate squeeze.

“Get that armor off, soldier,” she sighed as his hands came up to cup her full breasts. “I’ll be right back.”

Fives released her and watched hungrily as she scurried off down a hallway. But out of the corner of his vision, he could not help but notice the way Aergad’s violet eyes were drinking him in with a look of barely-contained lust.

He could not deny just how attractive the Zabrak was as he recognized that look, and it made his half-hard cock twitch as he began placing his armor in a neat pile next to the discarded corset.

Aergad’s angular face was covered in smooth, light tan skin marked with sweeping, symmetrical linework tattoos of a darker shade, and his striking eyes were stoking that ember into a flame in Fives’ gut. The tight fit of his clothes also left little of his lean physique to the imagination, and if he said the word, Fives would have been on his knees in a second.

After finally plucking up the courage and stripping down to nothing but his briefs, Fives turned to face his admirer and asked, “Like what you see?”

Aergad gracefully pushed off the table he had been resting on and slowly circled him, trailing his fingers across Fives’ burning skin. Fives felt his cheeks darken, and he shuddered pleasantly at the taller man’s light touch.

“I think you’re absolutely gorgeous,” he mumbled, his hands settling on either side of Fives’ neck as they came face to face. “I’d love to fuck you.”

Fives blinked in surprise and swallowed nervously. “Oh, I thought you might want me to do that,” he chuckled bashfully, briefly locking eyes with him before averting his gaze again.

Shrugging, Aergad caressed Fives’ pulse points gently. “Either way works for me. Sel’s only into males, but I like to keep options very open.”

He did not quite know what Aergad had meant by that, but he had a good feeling he would soon find out—a prospect that thrilled him more than he expected. He was suddenly overcome with the need to kiss the beautiful man in front of him, but instead settled for resting his hands against Aergad’s trim waist.

The rush of nerves must have made Fives’ heartbeat quicken because Aergad quickly shifted his hands to Fives’ chest to steady him.

“Hey, now,” he said soothingly, “it’s okay if you don’t want me. You get to decide, since you’re our guest. If you only want Sellé tonight, that’s fine. I’m… I’m sorry if I’ve come on too strong.”

“No! No, you didn’t. I-it’s fine, really. I just…” Fives found himself gripping one of the man’s slender, but sturdy wrists, soaking in the warmth of his palms and searching for the right words. “I’ve been with men before, but I’ve only been a top. You’re the first who’s ever said he wanted to fuck me.”

“We can share you, too, you know,” Sellé said quietly, reentering the room. Her slender arms encircled Fives’ waist, and she pressed her lips into his shoulder blade. “There’s no pressure at all. If you want to stop now, if you need some time, it’s all right. Whatever you want, Fives, you can have it.”

“I… uh… I’m not sure,” Fives replied, reaching down and holding onto one of her arms as well. “Never been given so many choices before… with anything.”

Being sandwiched between them was starting to become overwhelming in the best way possible. He was already so hard from the knowledge of both of them wanting him, and the warmth and feel of their bodies were keeping him grounded as his curiosity burned hot for the first time in a long time.

“Aergad?” Fives finally asked, swallowing nervously. “Kiss me?”

Aergad smiled brightly for a brief second before cupping Fives’ face in his hands and bringing their lips together.

Something deep and primal sparked in Fives’ brain as Aergad’s lips slotted with his own. He breathed in sharply and leaned into the kiss, but he let Aergad control it. The Zabrak’s lips were thin, but both tender and firm at the same time as they moved against his. Though it only lasted a few seconds, Fives could feel the desire rocketing through him. He could barely hold back the urge to chase him when Aergad pulled away.

“I think I’d like it if you shared me,” Fives confessed, left breathless and dizzy from the kiss.

With a pleased smile, Sellé came around to his front and took his hands, guiding him to their bedroom.

Fives had barely noticed before, but the whole apartment was incredibly spacious and finely decorated, and the bedroom was no exception. Later he would wonder what they did to afford such a place, but he kept his eyes mostly on Sellé, loving the way her bare, luscious body jiggled slightly with every step.

However, the oversized bed draped in nothing but plush white blankets and pillows was difficult to ignore. As she sat him down on the bed and crawled behind him, Fives was certain he had never felt a softer bed in his life.

“Wh-what should I be doing?” Fives asked uncertainly.

Aergad quickly stripped off his vest, revealing his athletically lithe torso and even more sweeping tattoos. He came to kneel between Fives’ parted knees, resting reassuring hands on his thighs. “Tell you what, since you’re new at this, we’re going to take this very slowly. Have you ever used toys on yourself before?”

His voice was like rich velvet, and Fives once again felt the excitement bubble in his stomach at the sight of the bulge visible through Aergad’s pants. “Yeah. A plug… just a few times, but nothing fancy.”

“Perfect, I have a few I can use on you first to warm you up. That okay?”

Fives nodded, struggling to control the arousal coursing through him from his core to the tips of his fingers and toes.

“Go get comfortable with Sel first,” Aergad murmured, stroking Fives’ cheek. “I’ll get everything prepped.”

As he strode off into another room, Sellé pulled Fives further onto the heavenly bed. She waited for him to settle into the cloudy pillows before straddling him and grinding delicately over his still-clothed cock, smiling at his contented groan.

“Fuck, you’re kriffing hot,” Fives hissed, eagerly running his hands up her body and bucking into her gently. It was also the first time he noticed the barbell piercings in each of her nipples, and he gently thumbed one to tease her, delighting in her little moan. “I still wanna cum in you before the night’s over.”

Sellé giggled, kissing the tip of his nose and leaning into his touches on her breasts. “That can be arranged. But first, some ground rules. In this room, we use the color system, and ‘red’ and ‘no’ mean we stop immediately. I may look kinky, but I’m not into anything non-consensual. Neither is Aergad. Do you understand?”

Fives nodded seriously. “Yes, I do.” Just from her tone, he could tell he was in experienced hands in a very safe space. Nothing would happen without him wanting it to, and it helped him relax further.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, either. This is going to be new for you, and Aergad and I have done this before, so if we see you slipping, we’ll stop and check in. Understand?”

“Yes,” Fives replied again. Her gold eyes were just as fierce as they were affectionate, and he felt himself wanting to melt beneath her from the fire coursing through his veins. If it had just been the two of them, he imagined he would have already made her cum on his tongue, and that desire to do just that quickly cemented itself in his mind.

A heartbeat later, Aergad reentered holding a small container full of various toys, lube, gloves, and bio-sheaths.

“All set?” he asked, kneeling beside them and lovingly petting down the full length of Sellé’s lek to make her shudder pleasantly.

As both Sellé and Fives replied affirmatively, Sellé shifted further up onto Fives’ abdomen, covering his hands with hers as they continued playing with her breasts and piercings. She began grinding her aching clit against the curls disappearing into his waistband, searching for the delicious friction between them.

Sliding up against Fives’ side, Aergad began slowly pressing a hand up his muscular thigh and teasing the edge of his briefs, pulling them down just enough to reveal the swollen tip of Fives’ already weeping cock.

“I’ll use my hands first, then we’ll work up to toys,” Aergad whispered against Fives’ shoulder, kissing his bronzed skin as tenderly as his words. “I promise I’ll be slow.”

Fives nodded fervently in agreement and gripped Sellé more firmly above him. “Need one of you to touch me. Please… touch me,” he gasped, barely able to believe how desperately he desired them both.

Fives thrust involuntarily into Aergad’s hand as the Zabrak pulled his underwear out of the way and grasped his cock, and his moan sounded wanton to his own ears. The callouses on his palm were a bit rough, but it was nothing compared to the relief of the pressure and warmth. As he looked at the man beside him, he was once again captivated by his violet eyes.

“You have a beautiful cock, Fives,” Aergad praised, his mouth watering at the sight of it. He released him to thoroughly lick his palm and adjust his grip before stroking him even more firmly. “So thick and hard. Look at him, Sel.”

Sellé twisted around and grasped Fives’ length behind her, joining her grip with Aergad’s. “Oh, he’s gorgeous,” she praised, deliberately pressing hard against the prominent, pulsing vein running up the underside. “Can’t wait to have you inside me and stretching me out, soldier.”

“F-feels good… so good,” Fives groaned, his every nerve tingling with need at their words. “Want… I-I want…”

“It’s okay, don’t be shy,” she said softly, slowing her movements to lean forward again and take Fives’ face in her delicate hands. “Tell us what you want.”

Fives could hear his heart hammering in his ears, but he gripped her thighs and pulled her up with surprising strength. “I want you to sit on my face,” he growled, once again finding his confidence and dying to taste her.

As soon as she shifted up onto her knees and straddled his head, Fives pulled her down and began devouring her like a man starved. He felt his cock twitch hard in Aergad’s grasp as Sellé let out the sweetest gasp of pleasure, and he knew he was in for the night of his life.

TBC

Part 2

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#arc trooper fives #OC Sellé #OC Aergad #twilek #zabrak #arc trooper fives smut #nsft #fives being a bi king #star wars #the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #arc trooper fives x ofc #arc trooper fives x omc

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coffee-at-daybreak · 11 months

Text

burning | vilkas x reader

this is very enemies to lovers-esque, i find that trope fitting for vilkas. there is some mild steam thrown in but nothing too suggestive. im just very sick and sleepless rn so i had to crank something out to keep me sane :} hope you guys like it!

"You got lucky this time," you say as you finally finish wrapping the gauze around Farkas's hand. "That sword could have cut much deeper."

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing we've got you on standby," he responds gruffly, flexing his palm. The dusky white bandage sits firmly against his skin. He gives you a wide grin. "Thank you, Harbinger."

You nod. "You're welcome. Just... don't make it a habit, yeah?"

Farkas chuckles. "Course. I'll be more careful. See you." He turns and heads back to the training field outside of Jorrvaskr, where he joins Ria's side as they watch Athis and Torvar engage in a practice sparring session. The approaching dusk is bringing a chill to the air, yet the Companions continue their training like nothing.

As you gather the materials you were just using to patch up Farkas's hand, you feel a tingling sensation crawling along your scalp. Someone's glare is practically digging daggers into your skin. You turn around to make your way back into the building, and you lock eyes with Vilkas, who stands next to the door with his back leaning against the wall and his arms folded across his chest.

His gaze reminds you of being hit with an ice spike spell: shards of piercing, pale blue striking right through you and leaving you momentarily breathless. You break eye contact, but the prickling feeling of his eyes on you follows you even when you slip through the door and into the building.

You head for one of the shelves in the corner to put away the bandages and anti-infection salves you used. You hear footsteps coming in behind you.

"How'd he hurt himself this time?" Vilkas asks.

You peer at him over your shoulder. His gaze is averted, pretending to adjust the rug on the floor with his boot. Not so glare-y now, is he?

"It was a sword, from his spar session with Njada." You step away from the shelf and brush past him as you head for the staircase leading into the living quarters below. "She's getting better. She gave him a pretty nasty cut this time."

Vilkas scoffs. "Didn't look nasty enough to need you there working on him for that long."

You stop in your tracks and whip around. This time, his eyes flick up to meet yours. The tingling sensation returns to your skin, except now, it spreads beyond just your head, running down your spine.

"Excuse me?" You cross your arms. "He was hurt, and I knew how to patch it up quick."

"Yes, so does Tilma," Vilkas protests, referring to the elderly servant who is often around tending to the Companions. He tilts his head, eyeing you intently. "Yet you always seem eager to step up first."

Heat floods the tips of your ears. "I'm the Harbinger. Part of my job is looking after the others."

"Yes, yes, I'm not denying that." The Nord waves his hand loosely. "Just pointing it out. This is the third time this has happened, you know?"

You snort. "What, you're keeping track now?" You narrow your eyes. "Hang on. You're jealous."

The eye roll you get in return is equal parts infuriating and attractive. "Please. Don't be childish," he mutters.

You ignore him and play the dangerous game of poking him further. "You know you can get yourself hurt around me, too." You crack a super sweet, super fake smile. "If you ask nicely, I might patch you up."

"I would rather bleed out and die, thank you."

You shake your head, looking away in exasperation. That has to be the cause for your heart rate rising and your temperature climbing. He is exasperating.

"I'm just looking out for him," Vilkas speaks up. When you glance at him, you realize he has stepped closer. You stare back at his storm-colored eyes, as intimidating as they are. "I don't want him making the mistake of getting tangled up with you."

You almost laugh at that, and bite your lip to keep from smiling. Vilkas's eyes dart down for just a second before meeting your own. You try to pretend like that gesture doesn't make your heart skitter.

"Give him some credit, he's smarter than that," you say. "He's just a friend. Not that you know what that is, you ray of sunshine, you."

His jaw clenches, and you watch the muscles of his neck flex as he swallows. Whatever insult he had ready, he thought better of it. A rush of victory swells in your chest.

But you see a flicker of something in his eyes, and there's a sinking sensation in your belly. Amongst the hard, icy emotions of that glare, there's something much softer. Something vulnerable, something you can't pinpoint but you recognize all the same, because it's something you've felt as well.

This is how it's been for a long time, too damn long. You hide behind your quips and your insults because you're afraid to face reality. The heavy, heart-wrenching reality that you have feelings for each other. To everyone else, it looks like you hate each other, when really, you hate how much you love each other.

"It's hard to be a ray of sunshine when you're a godsforsaken pain in my ass," Vilkas growls, and takes another step closer.

You should step back, you should. But the proximity of his body near yours traps you in place, and eventually, draws you in. You dare to lean closer.

"Well, I would stop, if it wasn't oddly entertaining," you murmur. "You are easy to rile up."

"You haven't seen me truly riled up."

The eye contact is searing your skin and blood, yet you don't dare break it. The voice in your mind is now screaming at you - back away, push him away, just move.

But there is also a voice telling you to grab him, to pull into him, to surrender. It takes all the effort in the world to resist.

"Not yet, maybe," you jab. "How do I get there? Do I have to patch up more muscular men?"

"Shut up," he warns, a hiss through his teeth.

"Or should I head to the inn and-"

You don't even get to finish your incessant babbling before his hand reaches for the back of your neck. You don't flinch - in fact, you let him pull you in and crash his lips against your own.

It's exactly as you imagined it, which embarrassingly, you did a lot. It's rough and firm and electrifying. His breath is hot as it mingles with your own, his stubble scraping the skin around your mouth. Your hands subconsciously claw at his torso, pulling him as close as you can, until you feel his chest against your own, drawing in the same heavy breaths that you are. His free hand grasps your hip, and your breath hitches briefly before he is plunging back in with a kiss so hard that his teeth skim over your bottom lip.

There is that hot, searing fire you always feel around him, coursing through your entire being. Burning hatred, burning desire. No difference right now, just one overwhelming inferno.

Muffled voices and laughter approach the doors a few feet away from you. Just as quickly as it happened, Vilkas lets you go. He steps back in two long strides just as the door opens.

Ria was busy giggling at something Torvar said, but she is quick to notice the tension in the room. "Woah. What's going on?" She looks between you and Vilkas. "You two look like you're about to kill each other."

You can't come up with a reasonable response, not when you're still trying to catch your breath, when your lips are still tingling with sparks and your mind is still in a white-hot daze. All you can do for a second is foolishly stare at Vilkas.

He glares back at you. Icy eyes that don't cool you down, but only make you feel warmer.

"Just a mild disagreement," he says, looking to Ria with surprising calm. Then he looks back at you. "But we'll settle it later."

Then he turns and walks away, like nothing happened. You almost huff out a breath of awe.

The other Companions pile in, chattering excitedly and ready to start preparing for dinner. You finally manage to move, your legs still feeling a little unsteady, but you try to help the others anyway, and try to keep hating him, even though now you think you love him more than ever.

#skyrim #elder scrolls #tesv #dragonborn #vilkas #reader insert #tes #dovahkiin #elder scrolls skyrim #fanfic #gender neutral reader

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7ndipity · 1 year

Text

Stargazing (Serendipity Teaser)

Jimin x Reader

Summary: A glimpse of you and Jimin's relationship as roommates.

Warnings: Implied bi!jimin, not proofread

A/N: I'm very excited to finally be able to share another preview for a series that I've been debating about writing for almost a year that will be starting next month, Serendipity! The main series will center around Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook, but I hope to eventually expand it to include all the members. I'll be posting more details later this week, I hope you'll like it! 💜

Masterlist Serendipity M.list (tba)

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jimin dragged himself through the front door with a loud sigh, being met with the sound of mario kart from the living room.

“Hey, how was your date?” You asked, not looking up from your game as he wandered in.

“Dull.” He dropped his coat over the chair arm before coming to flop down next to you on the sofa with a sigh, laying with his head in your lap.

“No good?”

“Eh, I don’t know. She was nice and all, but it was just kinda blah.”

“I’m sorry, Chim.” You patted his hair soothingly. “What happened to that guy from last month? He seemed nice.”

“Ugh, no! All he talked about was his fitness routine, I think he was just trying to sell me a gym membership.” He shuddered, making you laugh.

“See, this is why I don’t date.” You said.

“That and you’re a hermit.” He smirked.

You shoved a pillow over his face, which he responded to by flailing his arms and yelling dramatically, making you laugh.

“Oh, my mom’s coming over for lunch on Sunday, I thought you might wanna join us?” He said after catching his breath.

“You know your mother hates me.” You remarked.

“She doesn’t hate you, she just doesn’t approve of you.” He responded.

“How is that better?!”

“It’s not, I just wanted to clarify.” He said. “So will you?”

“I don’t know…” You said, delberating.

“Pleeease?” He begged, looking up at you with big eyes.

“Fine.” You relented.

“Thank you!” He rolled over, hugging you tightly.

“Wait, what time is it?” You asked suddenly.

“Uh, 10:44, why-?”

“We gotta go to the roof!” You exclaimed, rolling him off your lap and scrambling to your feet.

“Why?”

“There’s a meteor shower in 7 minutes, hurry!” You said as you yanked on your coat over your sweats.

“But I just-”

“Roof now!” You dashed out the door.

Reluctantly, he followed after you, lagging behind on the stairwell up to the roof access door.

By the time he emerged into the cold, you were already perched in your usual place on one of the old folding beach chairs that the neighbors left up there, head back as you scanned the sky intently.

Slowly, he took his seat next to you, his gaze lingering on you rather than the display overhead.

He loved seeing you like this, face illuminated by the moon, literal and metaphorical stars shining in your eyes; you looked positively ethereal.

It was moments like this that he adored, despite the bitter chill, just getting to witness your joy and enthusiasm over the most random things made his heart swell with so much love for you that he wanted nothing more than to kiss you untill he couldn’t breath.

Except he couldn’t do that, because you were just friends.

God, he hated that word, it tasted bitter and metallic on his tongue. He wanted so badly to tell you how he truly felt, but the risk of potentially ruining one of the most important relationships he’d ever had was too big to ignore.

“What is it?” You asked suddenly, catching him staring.

“Nothing.” He said, quickly turning his attention to the sky.

Maybe he would tell you someday, but for now he would content himself with this.

For now.

#jimin imagine #jimin scenarios #jimin fluff #jimin drabbles #jimin drabble #jimin blurb #jimin x y/n #jimin x reader #jimin reaction #jimin reactions #bts scenarios #bts reaction #bts requests #bts reactions #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts drabble #7ndipity

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scottysketches · 5 months

Text

wip wednesday on a thursday

Still working on chapter 4 (nearly done), so here's an excerpt to tide y'all over until it's published :)

—

“Do you know where we’re going?” Korkie asks him later that evening as he brushes his hair back from his face, looking at his father in the mirror. He’s dressed in a smart-yet-casual short sleeved shirt — white with vertical navy and beige stripes — and light blue twill jeans in a tapered fit, with casual sneakers in a blue-grey colour to match.

Obi-Wan glances up at him. “No, I don’t. All your mother told me is that Amis has organised a meal out for your birthday with us, Soniee, Lagos, Anakin and Padmé.” Obi-Wan himself doesn’t keep much in the way of smart clothing, but he does thankfully have a black shirt to match with the dark brown slacks he had worn for the housewarming dinner just a month previous, and a smart-ish chronometer on his wrist. He wears boots similar to the ones that make up the footwear for his regular Jedi attire, but they’re cut off at the ankles. His former padawan had taken Huyang back to the temple some time after lunch, and Obi-Wan had spent the next two hours with Korkie, beginning to teach him the basics of wielding his lightsaber in both its full cross-guard form and its dual wielding stance. He had been pleasantly surprised, and impressed, with how quickly Korkie had adjusted to the lighter weight of the lightsaber, compared to the beskad he had trained with on Mandalore.

Just then, Satine comes out of her bedroom, wearing a light blue floor-length dress that appears to float around her, with a darker blue jacket draped over her shoulders and a black leather purse in her hand. Her heels click on the wooden floor as she approaches them. “Are you ready?”

The men both look at each other, and Korkie shrugs. “I guess so. Where’s Amis? Is he meeting us there?”

Satine nods. “He asked me to drop him off at Lagos and Soniee’s apartment. But he’ll be coming back here tonight.”

They all step out onto the landing platform, the bi-fold doors automatically sliding shut behind them. Korkie whistles appreciatively as a smart black speeder lands at the end of the platform, its doors opening and revealing a plush interior, not visible from the outside due to the tinted windows. “This is a bit swank.”

Satine laughs. “Well, it’s not every day your young man turns twenty.” Korkie grins that familiar lopsided Kryze grin, wrapping his arms around his mother’s slim frame and hugging her tight. She presses a kiss to his cheek, and as they pull away from each other she muses aloud, “You’re all grown up, now. I’d like to think I did a good job.”

“Well, considering the circumstances, I’d have to agree,” Obi-Wan says, one hand rubbing Satine’s shoulders and the other resting on the back of Korkie’s neck.

His son thinks for a moment, and then says quietly, “My first birthday with my dad. That’s something special, in and of itself, I think.” They climb into the speeder, and take their seats as the doors close, the tint on the windows deepening.

Satine opens her purse and pulls out a small ring box. “Here. This is your gift from myself and Bo.”

Korkie takes the small box and flicks it open. Inside is a beskar ring, inlaid with haysian smelt, with a thin band and a wider, round top. (If Obi-Wan recalls correctly, Satine had once told him that such a ring was known as a sovereign ring.) The haysian smelt is embossed in the motif of a lily, the flower that represents Clan Kryze. His son’s eyes widen. “Is this—?”

“Your grandfather’s sovereign ring? Yes,” Satine answers. She looks slightly wistful; Adonai Kryze had been a hard man to please, though Obi-Wan knew that prior to his death he had eventually warmed to the idea of embracing a pacifist stance, to stop Mandalorians from wiping each other out. “After he and your grandmother died, a lot of their possessions at Castle Kryze were sent to me in Sundari. Most I put up for auction — such as my mother’s dresses and jewellery — but I kept my father’s ring, his armour and his beskad.”

“I don’t really remember them,” Korkie says. “They died when I was little, didn’t they?”

Satine nods. “You were only a baby when my mother passed, and you’d just turned one when my father followed her into the manda. We reconciled not long before that day — maybe a month — but he wanted you to have his ring when you turned twenty.”

Korkie removes the ring from its cushioned box and slides it onto his right index finger, testing its weight and the way it conforms to the shape of his finger. Looking up at Satine, he leans in and gives her another hug. “Vor’e, buir.” Satine smiles, smoothing their son’s hair back from his face when they separate.

“So, what did you two get up to, today?” she asks once Korkie has leaned back into his seat once more.

Obi-Wan and Korkie glance at each other. “Oh,” Korkie says awkwardly, “just… this and that.”

His mother’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Kohav Kryze, you are a terrible liar.”

Korkie winces. “Well, I think the major revelation from a few weeks ago would prove that statement wrong.” But he sighs, folding his arms over his chest. “We, uh, built a lightsaber together with the crystal in my toy tooka. Thanks for not telling me about that, by the way.”

Satine’s eyebrow arches, but she’s unable to hold back a laugh at Korkie’s snarky comment about his kyber crystal. “And where is this lightsaber now, then?”

“It’s in Korkie’s room at the moment,” Obi-Wan says, “but I’ll take it with me to the temple tomorrow and store it in my rooms for safe keeping.”

“What? Why?” Korkie sounds insulted.

Obi-Wan pins him in place with a look. “You need training. I don’t fancy being on the end of your mother’s wrath if you accidentally cut off a limb trying to parry a basic attack.” Korkie pouts, and Obi-Wan is reminded of when Anakin was just a young boy, childishly sulking over not being chosen to travel to the Jedi temple on Ilum for the Gathering as soon as he wanted.

—

Mando'a translations:

Beskad - slightly curved sabre of Mandalorian iron Beskar - Mandalorian iron Manda - the collective soul or heaven; the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit (also supreme, overarching, guardian-like) Vor'e, buir - Thanks, mum

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simphellscape · 10 months

Text

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10TH, 2020 - 2:02PM // SATURDAY, DECEMBER 12TH, 2020 - 5:24PM // next | tw: cursing, horny bird (but not really smut or nothin don’t get too excited)

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 12TH, 2020 - 5:24PM

It’s a pretty slow day for Keigo, oddly enough. Even though he’s working, it’s a rare time where he’s not having to rush from one side of the city to the next. It’s also a rare time where his bosses aren’t hounding him for information regarding his new “business arrangement”. The reprieve is nice, but the downtime is mind numbingly boring. He reminds himself that he should enjoy this, because the likelihood of this happening again anytime soon is very slim.

“I’m going to the store, Kei. Your constant pleas for chicken nuggets have finally pushed me over the edge.”

His heart hammers in his chest at the sound of your voice echoing through his head. In favor of texting, Keigo has taken to sending you a feather every day so that you can speak to him directly. When he’s working, it’s not very often that he can respond, anyhow. That, and he selfishly just wants to hear you instead of stare at a screen. He didn’t tell you that part. You were quick to send him voice snippets as soon as you two adopted this mode of communication. Little encouragements, quick jokes, anecdotes, updates, reminders. He usually hears from you a couple of times a day. It drives him mad for just a second every time he hears your voice, so soft and inviting, in his brain. He considers stopping by your apartment to see you during his patrol, since it was clearly going to be an easy day. Maybe he’ll even bring you a present. A trinket. A snack. A diamond ring. Who knows? Certainly not him.

His phone chirps in his pocket. When he fishes it out, he sees that it’s an email from the HPSC executive handling your case. The title line reads: RE: Trick Shot

Keigo has been exchanging occasional emails with her since the meeting with her three days ago. He’d worked out a vague schedule with her, outlining training, fittings, interviews, and the like. The goal was to have you out on the streets at the end of March; three months from now. It’s a good thing that you just had your last day at the tattoo shop, because the two of you are going to be incredibly busy until then by the looks of it.

He taps on the notification and reads the message.

Hawks,

I apologize for the wait, but I was able to find Trick Shot’s case file. Everything you need is attached.

If you have any further questions, don’t hesitate to get in touch.

Thanks,

Kana Enomoto

True to her word, Keigo sees the file at the bottom: Trick_Shot.zip. The reason he asked for your case file is bi-fold: one, he knows that there will be information and footage that will be beneficial in training you, and two, he is desperately curious and impatient. The idea of analyzing your performance in battle has intrigued him since learning about your stint as a hero. This way, he doesn’t have to waste any extra time. He shoves his phone back into his pocket, favoring his computer for such a task. He jets back to his agency.

He lands on the balcony connected to his office with a thump and saunters through the glass doors. The space is much like his penthouse: lacking sentiment and personality. He doesn’t do this consciously. In fact, he doesn’t really notice. He just didn’t grow up like that.

He plops down in his plushy office chair and turns on his double monitors. He quickly punches in his password and pulls up his email. The message Kana sent is already in the process of being buried by other, less important ones, but he hones in.

In your file, much like any other hero file, there’s an assortment of interviews, news clips, assessments, and contracts. He immediately notices that your file is more well-stocked than many of the others he’s seen. There are so many files here that he almost feels overwhelmed. He knows that there’s probably a more efficient way of doing this, but he decides that the easiest way to start is to find items that interest him, either personally or professionally. If he thinks of anything he desperately needs to see, he can cue them up later.

As he begins to peruse the videos there, one catches his eye immediately: Trick_Shot_Perf_Eval_2016.mov.

A performance evaluation is something that hero agencies sometimes like to do when a hero demonstrates a significant change, good or bad. They usually set this up with the HPSC. After a 230 rank jump in 2016, Keigo isn’t surprised one bit to see that you were pulled for one. He clicks on the video, and it opens to you standing in an expansive outdoor arena. You look remarkably similar, but there are a few noticeable differences. You’re clearly younger. Your nose is slightly wider. Your cheekbones are a centimeter lower. Your chest isn’t as filled out.

He mentally slaps himself at that last thought. Focus, Keigo, he scolds himself.

“State your hero name, please.”

“Trick Shot.”

Your voice is more different here than any of the rest of you is. It’s higher pitched, by quite a lot.

“We’re going to commence the assessment now. Act as if this is a real scenario. Begin.”

Your stance immediately widens, and you visibly become more focused and alert. Your hands hover above your utility belt. Your eyes scan the room, deadly serious. The camera angle changes to a wider shot, encompassing the entire training arena. A foam projectile is hurled in your direction from your right. Your head jerks in its direction in half a second, right hand employing one of your throwing knives. You toss it with ease, though the force of your throw pins the projectile to the wall from whence it came, about 30 yards away. Impressive. You use this opportunity to crouch, both anticipating the height at which the projectiles are being thrown and the need to load your gun. You’re able to prepare your weapon without even looking at it, opting to instead continue to scan the room.

“I need help!”

Your head snaps in the direction of the sound and you spot a civilian. He’s feigning injury for the purpose of the scenario. It’s obviously some guy from the commission, because he’s a terrible actor. You sprint toward him, projectiles flying your direction. Instead of attacking them, you’re able to maneuver around them with ease. You duck, weave, even flip over every obstacle in your path. When you’re three quarters of the way to the civilian, a projectile is threatening to drop directly over him. You leap towards it, left leg extended. You swipe it to the side, causing it to land on the ground 10 yards away. You land in a controlled crouch, directly beside the civilian.

“Hi there, I’m Trick Shot. Are you injured?”

A projectile is thrown to your back. Without breaking eye contact with the civilian, you turn your body to aim your gun towards it, shooting directly through the center. The impact crumbles the foam.

“My leg hurts!”

You do a quick scan of his leg and begin to operate under the assumption that he’s unable to walk.

“Everything is gonna be just fine. I’m gonna help you get out of harm’s way. A medic will check you over as soon as possible. Sound good?”

You wait for a nod from the civilian and begin hoisting him over your shoulder. Smart, since he’s taller than you. Keigo worries that you’ll struggle to pick him up, but just like everything else in this task, you barely even break a sweat. You swiftly and safely carry the man to the right of the arena, gently placing him back down on the ground. An alarm sounds, signifying the end of the first portion of your exam.

“You’ve completed the rescue section. Reset for combat.”

You make your way back to your mark, shaking your limbs out in preparation. As you reach your mark, you remain totally neutral.

“The combat section is about to commence. Act as if this is a real scenario. Begin.”

Once again, you drop to an offensive stance. Hands hovering over your utility belt. Serious eyes scanning.

Keigo is aware that this section of the test is at the end for a reason. It’s the most difficult part, and it has the most opportunity to have points deducted. The quirk that is displayed by the ‘villain’ is randomized, so you have to be prepared for anything. He’s trying to maintain an analytic perspective of the video, but he can’t help but silently root for you.

Another commission officer emerges to your left, clad in bulletproof gear. You hear him enter and whirl towards him, weapon aimed with intent.

“Stand down. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you make me.”

The stern nature of your tone is foreign to Keigo. He’s never heard you sound this commanding, this threatening. He feels redness creep across his face, and the familiar, but unexpected tingling of arousal. While Keigo is emotionally invested in protecting you, he can’t lie that women who can kick his ass excite him in the worst way. It’s even more exciting when it’s you. He blinks hard, willing himself to focus for a few more minutes.

Your opponent wastes no time on chatter and immediately attacks. He digs a gloved hand into the turf and launches a large patch in your direction. You spring several feet in the air, knees bent and gun drawn. As you descend, the patch of earth is dangerously close to your feet. Instead of it clipping you, as Keigo was expecting, you use it to propel yourself toward the enemy. Before he can even react, you’ve arched over his head. As you prepare yourself to land behind him, you unload two tranquilizer darts into his back. The alarm sounds once again. The exam is completed.

Keigo quickly pauses the video before the results section to check the timestamp. The entire exam took you five and a half minutes to complete, give or take. This is the first time that he’s seen anyone complete an evaluation of this caliber in less than eight. He’s shocked. He’s in awe.

He’s even more turned on.

He can deal with that problem later.

He presses play on the video again, eager to see the breakdown of the results. The grassy arena cuts to a black screen, white text outlining your performance.

Overall grade: 98/100

Rescue Section: 48/50

Combat Section: 50/50

Recommended Action: Further supplementation to suit/gear. Pair with rescue hero.

Damn right. Keigo knew that you were an excellent hero. If it wasn’t evident by your impressive rise in ranks all those years ago, then it was clearly evident now. He double checked the year and did some mental math. He’s even more fascinated when he realizes that you were freshly nineteen at the time of this test. You were ruthless. You were focused. You were determined. Same as you are today.

He considers the advice that the commission gave at the end of the video. Diversifying your arsenal was easy. He’d been thinking of creative and useful tools to give you already. You weren’t necessarily bad at the rescue portion. He imagines that you were deducted points off for overall speed. You could also only really attend to one person at a time in a situation like that. He could give you extra tools to make this easier, like some sort of anti-gravity tech or something.

Or, you could just work with him.

It makes a lot of sense, outside of the host of personal reasons Keigo has for wanting to partner with you. He has an excellent track record with citizen recovery. The nature of his quirk allows him to rescue multiple people at once with great ease and dexterity. You two also have an established chemistry, which is beneficial in a hero partnership. You have grown to be able to read each other well, from vocal cues to body language. It’s so eerie that Keigo has actually considered that you two share a few brain cells. This union is almost perfect. He just has to overcome the mountainous hurdle that is his romantic feelings toward you. That, and he has to resolve his new task of infiltrating a powerful, destructive organization of evil-doers. No big deal.

“Kei, hope you’re successfully kicking villain ass today. By the way, the store only had vegan nuggets, so I went home empty-handed. Sorry ‘bout your luck.”

As your voice bounces off the walls of his skull, his heart bounces off the walls of his rib cage. A giddy smile eases across his face, so wide that his cheeks hurt. Knowing that you’re thinking about him and cheering him on has him reeling. He imagines you’re lazing on your couch, wearing your comfiest clothes, holding his ruby feather to your mesmerizing lips. Whispering into it, soft breaths puffing against the down.

Or maybe, since you’re alone, you’ve ditched your sweatpants. Sprawled across the couch in a big t-shirt and panties.

Or maybe, you’ve ditched clothes entirely, trusting in the safety of your enclosed apartment to rid yourself of that pesky cloth imprisonment.

Or maybe, you’re still just fucking horny, Keigo thinks to himself. He sighs and drops his head in his hands. As he rubs his eyes, he tries to imagine something else. Cartoons. Paperwork. Kombucha. Something.

He opens his eyes only to meet with the persistent bulge in his pants. He sighs. He reminds himself that he’ll likely have some time to himself tonight after he’s off.

This whole ‘getting over his feelings for you’ thing might be more challenging than he thought.

His phone chimes. He lifts his hips to retrieve it from his back pocket. Of course, it’s you. It must be something that requires a response, otherwise you’d use his feather.

yo dude the weirdest thing just happened!! i accidentally wandered into the liquor store otw home and somehow this really delicious looking strawberry vodka ended up in my hands. i had no choice kei, i had to buy it. you should probably maybe definitely come by tonight after patrol to have some with me

Of course, he probably, maybe, definitely will go. If there’s two things he loves in the world, it’s you and the occasional boozefest.

that’s so weird!! wouldn’t want to let it go bad. i guess i’ll come over and drink if ur gonna twist my arm

Keigo’s plans for ‘self care’ often end up being interrupted. Normally, he would be pissed at the intrusion. But it’s you. His dick can wait.

His phone chimes again.

vodka doesn’t go bad, birdbrain

You’re the only one who can get away with calling him that. Then again, you could probably call him anything and he’d answer to it.

His eyes flick up to the corner of his touchscreen to check the time: 5:55pm. He’ll be off in an hour. He’ll fly to his penthouse for a quick shower. Then, he’ll be able to spend the rest of the evening with you. He hums at the thought.

shhh >:( i’ll be there at like 7:30 or smth. lmk if you need anything before then :)

Keigo returns his attention to his computer screen after sending his reply. Now that he’s got something to look forward to other than shameless self-indulgence this evening, he seems to be more focused. After scanning the items present in your file once more, he’s drawn to one even more important than the clip he just watched.

Buried amongst the plethora of other things is your career summary, crafted and curated by the HPSC. It’s the most current document in the entire thing, having been edited mere days ago. He usually views this document first when going through any other case file, but the excitement of this being your case file caused it to escape his mind. Just as his mouse hovers over the link, his phone goes off again. It’s a call, which can only mean two things: his villainous new side-piece, or worse, an HPSC rep . He groans, swiping it off of its place on his desk. An unknown number flashes across the display, telling Keigo that it is, in fact, the aforementioned villainous side-piece. He takes a deep breath and answers.

“Yello.”

Keigo always kind of hates it when people answer the phone like that, and perhaps that’s why he does it now for the first time. Even though there’s nothing societally wrong with it, he wants to inject a little bit of asshole-ery into this conversation. Just for himself.

“Meeting at the usual spot tonight at 7. Don’t be late.”

His heart drops. This is worse than the whore-ish plans he had for himself tonight, before you extended the offer to drink with him. Far, far worse. He knows that this call to duty should rise above any other plans he might have for the rest of his day, but since those plans involve you, he can’t bring himself to ditch them. His synapses start firing at a million miles a minute as he speaks.

“No can do. I’ve got a press event after work today.”

“So, I see you’re still whipped for the adoring fans, hero boy.”

“You know what this is about. I have to keep up appearances in order for this to work.”

“If you actually cared about the cause, you wouldn’t even bother.”

“Baby, don’t be so clingy! We can have our little date tomorrow, I promise.”

Keigo has often used this sort of tactic to diffuse situations like this. There are a few reasons for this: it catches the recipient off guard, and it eases tensions, usually. Mainly, he needs to make himself laugh right now, to remain sane.

“I don’t need to keep you around, you know.”

“Oh, but you do,” he replies, all lightheartedness gone, “because I have connections that you never will. Information that you never will. I want to help you, and I will, believe me. But if this is ever going to work for either of us, you need to trust me. I can’t just stop going to press events or people will get suspicious. That’s the last thing we need.”

Static and the sound of shuffling fabric taint the pause that follows Keigo’s borderline threat. Every passing millisecond further convinces him that he’s fucked this up.

“If you don’t make it here by nightfall tomorrow, I’m done covering for your ass.”

With this, the line goes dead. Keigo lets go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as his phone drops into his lap. His now empty hands run through his mane, pulling ribbons of tawny hair with them. The realization that he (hopefully) successfully lied to a man who holds Keigo’s entire life in his hands hits him like a freight train. He is both incredibly proud of and entirely ashamed of his ability to do that.

“Dabi,” he mutters to himself, “what the fuck am I gonna do with you?”

(a/n): and this is back too!! i actually have a bunch of this written out, so expect it! i also have the entire thing plotted out its just the writing part that escapes me lol

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kiragecko · 2 years

Text

It's Memeception in Maya Glyph form!

Young Man

Take the breadsticks

and run

I said

young man

Man door hand hook car

gun

Yeah, I like old memes.

This follows up The Tiger Poem, and The Demon Stoplight Poem. Original is by @plaid-n-converse in 2016.

Literal translation:

you-take-it the-tamale¹ sir-youth (and) run-you

sir-youth said-I

the-man door hand

sir-youth said-I²

the-folded.over-dart³ canoe⁴ (blow)gun⁵

Transliteration:

ʔa-ch'am-Ø ʔu-waj ʔu-ch'ok a‧n-eet

ʔaj-ch'ok che‧ʔ-een

ʔu-wi‧nik pa‧sil k'ab

ʔaj-ch'ok che‧ʔ-een

ʔu-pak-jul ju‧kuub pu'w

Character Transliteration (ALL CAPS are characters that stand for full words, lower case are syllabic):

ʔa-ch'a-CH'AM-ma ʔu-wa-WAJ ʔAJ-ch'o[ko] ʔa-ne-ta

ʔAJ-ch'o-ko che-ʔe-na

ʔu-WINIK-ki pa-si-li K'AB

ʔAJ-ch'o[ko] che-ʔe-na

ʔu-pa-ka-ju-lu ju-ku-bi pu-wa

Notes:

¹ 'waj' is the term for any food made with maize dough. I've seen it translated as 'tamale' by linguists, but the term seems to refer to a general category similarly to 'bread'

² To allow the translation to match YMCA meter, I added an extra 'I said, "Young man"' (only 2 of the last 6 words are a single syllable in Classical Maya)

³ 'jul' is a dart/spear/any other piercing tool (but not a needle). I felt a 'folded over/bent downwards piercing tool' fit 'hook' okay

⁴ 'jukuub' is 'canoe', and the closest analog for 'car' I could find

⁵ 'pu'w' is the term for 'blowgun', and has extended it's meaning to 'shotgun' in quite a few modern Maya languages

#classical maya #maya hieroglyphs #maya writing #gecko writes pretty #calligraphy #memeception #ymca meme #breadsticks meme

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immoralimmortals · 1 month

Text

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 29: Falling Behind

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: Is it the sun and the moon, or is it the moon and the stars? What if it's all three Kisame's looking for?

Author's Note:

Hey, so like...see the Itachi x Kisame tag? You see it, amidst all the reader x akatsuki ones? Yeah I meant it. You're getting that this chapter. I'm bi and queer and polyamorous and I'm making it everyone else's problem.

*Clap* It's polyamory time, baby!!! I'm still exploring this aspect of myself, personally, so I hope I wrote it okay and yall enjoy. The song for this chapter is Falling Behind by Laufey.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Moved out to a new city

June is dawning down on me

And all that I can find

A sickly romance in the air

Lovers stroll without a care in sight

Ooh, this can't be right

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He had another dream last night.

Ethereal, pearly white. Soft sheets wrapped around her body, protecting her modesty. Bright eyes both innocent and knowing, looking up at him as he sits across the bed. He reaches forward to hold her thigh and she allows, letting cloth slip off to reveal a bare shoulder. Her chin tilts down both seductively and with shyness, watching a hand with a red ring that appears behind her to help. There are soft coal eyes looking through thick lashes.

The swordsman of the mist isn't entirely sure where the line crossed between sleep and daydreams. At some point he realizes he is sleeping on his stomach, arm stretched as if wanting to hold someone beside, but alas, that space will never be filled. Kisame watches his own knuckles curl around the linens, a sigh of acceptance escaping his throat.

Knock knock.

Itachi is there, speak of the devil. Kisame swears he looks at him with the same eyes as in his sleep...but he knows better. How selfish of him to want the exemplary of two genders when neither are fit for the likes of he. All the same, he tries to smile for his best friend once he drags himself out of bed and opens the door. "Morning, Itachi-san."

The Uchiha blinks, murmuring a "hn" as he does sometimes; sickeningly enamoring of him. "We should spend time with her this morning."

Kisame blinks. There is no other “her” to spend time with, so the assumption is clear. And yet... "Sure. But...is there a reason for today in particular...?" He receives a shake of the head. Black locks of hair always look so soft, almost like the harshest of conditions could never weather its beauty away. Maybe blood makes a great conditioner, the shark jokes to himself.

"No reason." The Uchiha whims are so much more flighty than you'd expect, merely under a veneer of grim attitude; Kisame knows well the whimsy Itachi holds back. He knows, too, that all the same there is most definitely a reason. Ah well. Not his place to question.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Touched the ocean, fell right in

Stepped outside and burned my skin

My life won't go my way

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The fishtank is set on a counter somewhere in the depths of this mansion, a regal setup of dark colored wood with flourishes of carvings about it. A mighty fine place for a little fish meant to be eaten. She feels like that sometimes; might be why she’s spent her first moments awake holding her chin on top of folded arms and staring inside. The woman has no idea what kind of fish it is, but perhaps it doesn’t matter. It’s enough to help keep her mind off of things, hoping and wondering if such an animal can feel happiness and safety. This is the state Kisame finds her in, outside looking in seeming to be still sleepwalking, as she’s been the past week-so. But her mind is more awake, thanks to the escapades of someone with purple eyes and someone else in an orange mask.

The tallest Akatsuki cocks his head once done dipping it underneath the diminutive entryway, taking in the traveler’s presence before it’s interrupted by his large, disruptive self. She’s so sweet, sweet as...what did she call it? Cotton candy? Whatever it was that was merely sugar spun so fast it's thin like gossamer. It’s almost a shame to interrupt her. “How is it doing, Takara-hime? Think I did good enough for it...?”

The moment she sees him, hands reach out, asking for him where a voice struggles. What a blessing. He leans down to his ward and abides. The woman certainly has a real knack for asking for him after these wonderful, terrible dreams. Her hands tenderly take his, thumbs stroking the knuckles with what he remarks as anxious energy. He smiles at her, as he always does.

“Ah, good." Her actions are returned by Kisame in much the same way Itachi's are; you need not speak to communicate, sometimes. "So...how are you, Takara-hime?”

A twitch of a smile herself before it falls, a silent equivalent of promising she’ll be okay even if she’s not quite yet. A shadow falls in the entrance of this nook, Itachi haloed by morning sunlight from a hallway window.

“You should eat, Takara-san.” Dutiful as always, Kisame notes of the Uchiha. Usually it’s him that’s more sickly, but the one occasion Kisame so much as caught a cold had his partner practically crawling on him to make sure he got rest and food. Somehow a man has such a bleeding-heart that sometimes he’s heartless; the enigma of Itachi is endless. Though the kindness isn’t lost on her, the traveler shakes her head; she is not hungry. “Tea then,” Itachi decides. The two shinobi lock eyes for a second. They often talk without literal words, knowing each other’s body language so well, but to the swordsman there’s a tinge of...something. Something he can’t entirely pin down.

Regardless, the instruction unspoken is to stay with her while he goes. A pleasure and a temptation, the kiri-nin finds, as the soft hands tug his a bit more. Oh, this is horrible; the man grits his teeth to concentrate on the real world versus fantasy. He wants to kiss her so bad, lay her on his mattress and hear her beautiful voice moan his name—

"K-K-Kisame...?"

—And he's awake, purple tinging his cheeks. She's trying to mime for something, arms and hands gesturing, surely, but make no sense. He raises a brow and gives an amused, confused, lopsided grin. "What? What's up, princess?" Is it bad to call her that if that's what he dreams of saying on top of her? Frustrated with herself, she asks for his hold once more. Tentatively, it moves towards her, gradually guided to slip under the strap on her shoulder. What is she doing...?! Breath hitching, the shark sees a vision of himself pulling it off and pressing her onto that daybed just behind her—

...Wait. This is...familiar.

...

Oh.

"You remember that..?" To this the woman nods, smile back on her face. Kisame smirks harder. "Yeah, I still have the stuff."

A moment later, the gift of the florist reenters the traveler's life, first time since the day knight and ruler met. Something about how they already had the awkwardness, in one way or another he admitted to thinking of her that way— sensually— and she shrugged it off...it makes it easier for her to interact with him right now. Tobi and Hidan especially...love them, of course, but there's a toll on her spirit, especially after discovering the throws of battle. She needs peace, and there are two who give it to her in abundance. A happy accident that Kisame and Itachi are the ones who spend most time with her today.

Honestly...Kisame especially. His eyes don't put you to sleep.

Point is, she trusts him with this, with one request. The lotion she hasn’t felt since the day it was opened releases the same scent with a crack of the lid. Kisame has no idea what the hell is in it...but it is nice. But it reminds him of her, so of course it does; perhaps the pleasure is inevitable. There’s been a couple of times he opened it up again just for that reason. A part of him wants to offer the jar to her, but he can tell from the look in her eyes: it’s him that she wants, just as before. Fingers dip into the milky salve, other hand brushing back her hair off her shoulder. So trusting, so trusting. She shouldn’t trust him, but she does. What is he to do but try? Her eyes soften the second skin is on skin, a slight bob of her head as serenity finally finds a place for her once more. She hums and her eyes close shut, trusting him to do whatever he shall like as she sits on the edge of the silky daybed.

Dutifully, the knight massages. One hand becomes two, encasing either shoulder so small in his palms. She hums again. Her voice even so small now is still so pleasant to the ear. He isn’t prepared when he gets more:

“Daffodil.”

He grunts questioningly. There’s the most sincere smile on her face, much more sincere than his will ever be. The woman repeats what it is, the perfume of magic her friend from the flowers sent her way:

“Daffodil.”

He grunts again, almost hoping it’ll make her speak once more. Her voice is beautiful. She takes his hand, interrupting the massage, and she urges it back into his own space. Disbelieving, it isn't until the traveler places his own fingers on his own neck that he gets it; she wants him to try it, too. “Yeah? That’s what this is, huh...?” If she talks back, he can’t hear. The world seems whiter, more like the bedsheets he wants, and a devil on his shoulder tells him something, as she beams so perfectly up at him with the scent of narcissus surrounding in the air:

Tell her.

It would be the perfect moment to.

Look at her: Radiant and soft and arms forward to touch you. Your princess, without a single doubt, is happy with you. Say it. Make her yours.

...

...But he can’t. It wouldn’t be fair, not when she’s like this, only just reconnecting with reality and clinging to him meanwhile. And besides, when she’s fully “awake” again, if she ever will be...then she’d never want him like that. Kisame must hide not only his lust but his love. That’s only what is right. He couldn’t protect her, after all, from the outside world. Who is he against what’s within the tailless beast? Who would want a monster like him but someone equally disturbed, wrong in this world?

He isn’t as good at hiding his feelings as he thinks he is. The upturn at the corner of his lips fades and weary eyes don’t blink as the woman looks back at him. Her lips part, trying to find what she very much wants to say—

And then Itachi walks in, three cups of tea on a tray. Kisame sees her seem to forget him entirely, approaching the Uchiha with delight and gratitude upon her face. The woman hands him a cup and he knows where his place is in the food chain.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bossa nova in my room

Hope that I'll find someone too to love

Because...

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe the saucer and the teacup are made for each other.

This is the sort of phrase that repeats in Kisame’s mind, watching from the back porch as the lady sits outside on the swing, his partner behind. Even from this angle, he catches glimpses of her smile, seemingly even brighter with Itachi around. How strange it is, a human manifestation of darkness and crows and a blood red moon bringing sunshine when he walks in. Always has had a knack for it, really… But it’s the first time he’s seen it happen to someone besides himself. Girls chase Itachi, yes, something about Uchiha genes or pheromones, who the hell knows. But it’s not the same. It’s not the same way he spellbounds Kisame, he’s always told himself. And the longer he looks at Takara, the more he sees the same in her. Joy, actual joy, not merely a chase nor a fling nor candy for the eyes. She loves him. Kisame has a hunch Itachi may love her too. That might be the something hiding in his eyes...

He sinks more into the hold he has against his knees, pressed to his chest as he watches them under golden autumn leaves, a grumble under his breath. Oh, what a failure... He couldn't protect her. He's not good enough. What can he do to make the longing stop? But he doesn't want it to; he wants this suffering, even if nothing else. How selfish. Does she know it hurts him to ask for him like this, insist he join as a third wheel under sunshine, that all these days in domestic bliss are but a blur? No. Surely not. Too sweet. Too sweet...

And Itachi...the swordsman sees the barest smile on his lips a prize. Itachi...after everything...we are always parallel, aren't we? Never going to cross. Beauty, indeed, is to be put on the highest shelf outside of his grasp, as best deemed by fate itself. His hands are not gentle, after all. They will fumble, Takara the teacup and Itachi the saucer. Ironic, given how tall he is. But...Itachi at least can fend for himself; the crow will survive on his own, however unhappily. Takara...

She needs someone.

So maybe the saucer and the teacup are made for each other.

...One piece of porcelain gently tugs the sleeve of the other. A careful palm goes behind her back, stilling the swing. A hum in the back of her throat, the traveler points behind. She points to Kisame. Other arm slung in his cloak, Itachi turns his head to follow, evaluating. No, Kisame tries to promise with his eyes alone, he’s no rival for you. If it’s you she wants, it’s you she’ll have. But the something in his black eyes persists, sharper than before. Maybe it isn't love after all...? The stare is interrupted as the woman gets up from the swing, walks over, and she takes a blue hand once again.

“Eh?” It’s obvious what she wants— for him to get up— but she still doesn’t get it. “What’s up, princess?” Stop calling her that, his own mind says. But he can’t help it. Words still fail her, so she insists with a tug for him to rise to his feet. Standing up becomes walking, and walking becomes following. He follows her all the way up to Itachi, whom he gives an awkward quirk of the corner of his mouth. She persists even still—

“What? On…?” Oh. Well. Uh… Well. What choice does he have? The grown ass man does as told; he sits on the swing.

“Okay...like this?” Imagine him months ago, being told he’d be more than happy to humor the childish whimsies of a girl from space. He’d laugh in his own face. Even more so when he’d mention she wants to push him on a swing. Who is he to deny it, though?

It’s a bit pathetic, to be honest. He feels her hands but he hardly moves, but she keeps trying. Oh, sweetheart, he thinks, you needn't try to do such a thing for me; you were having such fun yourself. I don't need a turn. These thoughts stay inside, lest his denial hurt her more. A grunt of frustration, rare before but unheard nowadays from her—

“Takara-san.”

The hands leave his back. Another pair come up, holding his shoulders; Itachi’s touch sends electricity down his back, and the voice behind his ear does not help. “Care for a push, Kisame?”

Purple stings his cheeks and Kisame’s head dips in embarrassment and seething bittersweet irony. A chuckle. Then a laugh. “If that’s what the lady wants!” How ridiculous...but he’ll do it. It must mean a lot that Itachi will for her, too, just because it's asked for. Certainly that is proof that he loves her...

Kisame imagines himself young, younger than days of bloodshed and regret and so many lies. He feels a grip strong and a tug soft alike upon his back and wonders if there was any way things could have turned out different.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun's engaged to the sky

And my best friend's found a new guy

I'm only getting older

I've never had a shoulder to cry on

Someone to call mine

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Cicadas: some say they sing, some call it screaming. Either way, they fill Kisame’s mind from the cracked open window in his bedroom. Maybe it’ll keep him up; he wants to stay up. He wants to either never sleep again or sleep forever, and he cannot have both and make it out of this with heart intact. Another pale dream and he’s a goner, most assuredly and could never look Itachi or Takara in the eye, the only people still alive that give him the time of day. He rubs his temple—

Knock knock.

An exhale. Who the hell could that be…?

The door cracks open and it’s the woman’s turn at his door, garbed in her nightgown and a nervous hand to her chest. Worry wells up immediately in his own. “Princess…?” She somehow looks even smaller.

“I…” she quivers, and her head tucks deeper down into her shoulder. “I...I…” There’s no choice but for the man to wait, see if she can find her words. What could be bothering her…? What did he do wrong today? Kisame tried so very hard to leave her alone whenever possible.

“I’m sorry.”

His heart stops.

“W-…”

And she walks right into him; before big blue arms can hold her, it becomes abundantly clear that smaller ones are climbing around Kisame instead. He is being held, at least as well as one so small can try. “I’m sorry.”

The repeated phrase makes him frown. “What’s there to be sorry about, princess? You didn’t do anything wrong.” But she did, most certainly she must have:

“You’re scared,” she says into his ribcage, reverberations cutting straight in. “I don’t want you to be scared.”

“Takara..." Oh, good gods above...what has he done? What has he done to do this to her?! "You have nothing to be sorry about...!” Stinging, stinging. Kisame thought he already got all his crying out of the way, back in the early days of her safe return where she hadn’t enough wits about her to notice his red eyes. They prickle the edges of his gills now, forcing the top of his cheeks to press up lest tears fall down and make things worse. “It’s me. It’s me that should apologize. Don’t be sorry.”

“Why?”

Why?

“I failed," he answers easily, and his palm cups the back of her head much the same way. "My mission is to protect you. I had the gall to promise you you’re worth protecting. And...and you are. You are." The swallow in his throat tastes like oversteeped tea. "But in the end...I…I...” Maybe he is scared after all.

There isn't really a way to excuse this in a way that'll make him happy. She has to try another route. Desperate fingers try to massage his shoulders, best as they can blind and without daffodils. "Y-...you get to try again."

And his heart flips and races thousands of miles per hour. A moment, and finally his smile is real again. "You're very kind."

"No..." He needs to know; how does she get him to know...? One response, and it is desperate:

"I love you."

A simple answer that should tell him everything he'd ever need to know. Breathless. Disbelief. Maybe— no. No. She wouldn't understand, comprehend the way his heart works like no one else he's met before, and therefore he picks the safest meaning for himself out of these words. He scruffs her hair, trying to mix away the teardrops that managed to escape him before she notices. "Much too sweet, Takara-hime..." He swallows again more of his shame and denial of fate, and though he wants to blame this on a loose tongue, the next phrase is calculated. "I suppose I love you too."

But she understands his love better than he thinks.

“You...make me...feel safe. I want...to make you feel safe...too… Can I stay...tonight?”

And how can he say no to that?

It makes him nervous, and it doesn't help that she has no worry of it, of a grip that can kill around her delicate little waist and teeth that can rip so close to her skin as the princess in white moves her fingers down to curl around his own. Each touch...it is, indeed, clear that she's more worried about him than herself, even after all that's happened. She guides him to the bed, lays down first, and reaches out to him. He more so watches himself wrap around her than feels it being done. She smells like daffodils, hard to ignore with his face right in her neck as he climbs in, space so small he's nearly on top. Even so close, all he can wonder is if the lady with the perfume craved her, too. Maybe she did, bestowing a gift so intimate, so perfect to know only when you're nearly melting into the same skin.

"I love you," she says again. The hair on the nape of his neck is stroked, and almost like a switch, he immediately feels his eyelids weigh down. "I'm sorry."

And for once, he can't tell her not to be, not when it hurts so much to be with her like this when it isn't what she wants, surely not in the same way he does. Warmth swathes her again and she falls asleep, head in his bare chest and a scared man's arms around her sides. His own eyes are closed...but...but...

The last thing she thinks of is how she's sorry that she can't explain better what it means when she loves someone, unable to ask if he's like that too. They'd have more in common than he thinks.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Everybody's falling in love and I'm falling behind

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There’s no way he can be allowed to fall asleep in the same bed as someone else. The fight must be won. These cursed fish eyes need to stay open. No dreams, not with her so vulnerable like this, he so much an animal of carnal desire.

He starts slow, as soon as her breathing slows and stays that way, hips backward first and then oh so carefully arms slip away. She shivers like he was keeping her warm and his heart aches. The smell of rain is outside, from the crack in the window and he follows his instincts to the ocean in the sky.

Bare feet step on wet, musky earth, the decay of leaves speeding with the rainfall. Kisame’s chin tilts up, sharp teeth peeking out from slightly parted lips as he lets the precipitation hit him, blend in with whatever saltwater may or may not be left upon his face. What does he feel? More importantly, what should he feel…?

“Kisame.”

The named man gasps. Only a few people get to see Itachi without his Akatsuki cloak; it’s almost like it’s a part of him. But here they are, the hypnotist no longer covered up by the bulky black and red, dressed instead in grays much like that his irises carry much of the time. Well trained, Kisame waits, but unlike usual, Itachi...doesn’t command. Not even with his gaze. There is no clear instruction, and so he hums in growing confusion.

The dark-haired man barely, oh so minutely purses his lips...and he steps forward, joining the shark in nighttime rain. “You’re not well.”

Kisame’s not, but he can’t admit that. “Not any worse than usual,” he shrugs. He avoids Itachi’s stare, the something is still there, still unreadable and therefore bothering him. “You’ll get sick if you stay out here, you know, Itachi-san.”

“I could say the same of you.”

…

“You know that’s different,” the swordsman rebukes, quietly under the hiss of falling drops of rain.

“Kisame.” Itachi could say his name and ask for anything, and Kisame would do it no questions asked. Murder, theft, arson...—

He asks not for these things right now. In disbelief, the man feels a weight press into his side.

“She’s worried about you.”

Ah. Of course. Of course he’s just thinking about her. It’s as Itachi should be; no one else is so well suited to protect a princess as a prince is. But still...that doesn’t make sense. “I gathered as much.”

“Did you?” Itachi challenges, voice soft, gaze still asking for his. “Then why not do something about it?” The beast frowns in disdain.

“...You know very well I can’t indulge what I want.” Three layers to this— three layers at least, two people and one the creeping desire of chaos and death with a sword in his hand. He can’t have his cake and eat it too; he can only pick one. ...And two of them would have to pick him back. That leaves only one sure choice.

Kisame doesn’t notice he’s gritting his teeth until Itachi tells him to stop doing that.

“Relax, Kisame.” And a word, one he’s not used to: “...Please.”

…

The Uchiha is unwavering even as the rain hits his skin, no twitch, no shrug, still as a statue. He's being serious; no mere pretense of it this time. “Promise to take care of yourself, Kisame. Lighten the burden on your shoulders.” In surprise, the named man finally looks back—

His black eyes are so handsome, glittering in the dark like this. It's like stars and the night sky. They’re the same eyes in his dreams, and Kisame’s heart flutters as it knows not what else it can do.

“No person is property,” the Uchiha assures, unbelievably. “I know we spoke before...about how no one could love the likes of us.” He said it. He said the word. Love. He’s never said “love” before—! “...But if you feel it, perhaps you should try. Whatever you feel...it is fine. It’s fine so long as it is wanted.”

Kisame’s own eyes are shaking in his sockets. “Itachi...but...you...—?” Who is he talking about? Him and her? Him and her? Him and...him…?

Itachi won’t answer that. As Kisame responds in silence, the crow realizes the shark still needs time to think, and perhaps he too does as well. It’s a lot, to realize one has affection left in their husk of a body after all. Hope hurts if you let it in all at once, instead of trickling in, sort of like the difference between drowning a flower and watering it every day, same amount given in the end with another result. As such, the touch leaves the knight. Kisame feels so warm that he swears there’s steam coming off of his face.

The rest of moon's hours, he waits for the princess to wake up, hands to himself and a heavy heart confused if it’s guilty or not. The next morning, the clouds are tinged pink and purple as the storm fades to the distance, and she tells him that's what cotton candy looks like. Itachi shows up in time to agree as if he knows, too.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Everybody's falling in love

Everybody's falling in love, oh

Everybody's falling in love but me

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#akatsuki x reader #kisame x reader #itachi x reader #itachi x kisame #aswtn fic #songfic

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