#so it could be worse. but i really just need to go for it

[pellucid-constellations]

Lessons in Care

Pairing: Line Cook!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel loves you so much. Even though you can't cook. You're trying though.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: A small injury

a/n: Consider this a small gift to make up for me disappearing for a month <3 This is part of the line cook au, but as I've mentioned, nothing is really in order so read however you want :) The rest of this AU can be found in my masterlist right there ⬇ love you <3

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“Like this?” You shook the pan a little harder, the handle's weight tweaking your wrist at an odd angle. 

“Almost. Try not to hold your elbow so close to your body. It won’t flip right.” 

You pressed your lips together and narrowed your eyes. “This is so hard.” 

“I believe in you,” Azriel teased, an amused upturn of his eyes as he watched you struggle. 

“Why is this pan so heavy? It’s literally like 40 pounds.” 

“It’s cast iron, baby.” 

“That’s stupid.” 

Azriel barked out a laugh, red tinting his cheeks as if he hadn’t expected the sound to leave his lips. Your mouth quirked up in a small smile despite your struggle. You shot your gaze to the side to try and catch the sweet expression that still lingered on Azriel’s face.

“Would you like me to do it?” Azriel posed after clearing his throat. 

“Of course not. I came early so you could teach me.” 

“I could teach you another time. You have class soon.” 

“Why do you want me to fail?” 

“I don’t—” 

“You totally do. You want me unable to cook for myself so I’ll always have to rely on you, and then I’ll never be able to leave you.” 

Azriel laughed again, a quiet, rumbling sound. “You caught me. Now hand that over before you hurt yourself.” 

You groaned and turned slightly to evade your boyfriend’s reach. “Az, I’m serious. Teach me how to flip these stupid eggs right now.” 

“Okay, okay. Just let me help.” 

The feel of Azriel’s hand lightly sliding over yours startled you. You jumped and your fingers twitched, the sudden motion sending the tips of your fingers too far forward until a simmering pain shot through your skin. You flung the pan back on the burner instantly, its contents splattering along the stove and into the open flame. It burned a bright orange and then settled as you held your hand close to your chest. 

You hissed a breath through your teeth and Azriel’s hands were on you. 

“Shit, baby, let me see, yeah?” he stressed, mindlessly turning the burner off without taking his eyes off you. He tugged your hand at your chest with gentle fingers. “Let me see.” 

You released the tight grip on your fingers and rested them in Azriel’s open palm. “I was just surprised. I don’t think it’s that bad.” 

Azriel’s brow furrowed as he examined your burn. He tsked, pulling you gently by your wrist over to the sink. “It’s going to blister.” 

Cool water rushed from the pipes and soothed your skin. Azriel held your wrist in a soft grip and turned your hand slowly, back and forth in a repetitive motion. 

“I don’t think so, Az. It’s not that bad.” 

Azriel shook his head. “That pan was pretty hot—I’d be surprised if it didn’t.” He looked up at you. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

You offered a gentle smile and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “You didn’t scare me.” You raised your brow playfully. “You just made me nervous. A cute guy like you holding my hand—reaching over to help me to cook. Made me all jumpy.” 

Azriel breathed out a disbelieving scoff. “I’ve done far worse than just hold your hand.” 

“Scandalous!” you proclaimed, affronted. “How can you say such things at work, Azriel? You’ll be fired.” 

“I can only hope,” Azriel grumbled. 

Azriel directed you to keep your hand under the water as he dug through a cabinet for the first-aid kit despite your protests. You truly felt that you were fine and didn’t even need a bandaid, but it was easy to forget the multitude of scars that littered Azriel’s hands and how they contrasted with your completely unmarred skin. 

That was purposeful, meaningful—Azriel worked hard so you wouldn't have to. Azriel found peace in keeping you safe and happy. 

So you let him fuss. 

“Okay, let me see again, baby,” Azriel requested, flipping the water off and reaching for your hand. Your skin stung as it met the air beyond the sink, but Azriel’s caring touch was like a balm. 

He dried your fingers with a towel and uncapped a spray bottle, coating your burn with too much of the medication before grabbing a set of gauze and tape. You stared at the materials in exasperation. Azriel didn’t notice the expression and continued to admisinister care as if you’d been in a fire.

“Az, I love you so much, but I don’t need all of that. It’s a small burn. I’ve probably done worse with my curling iron.” 

Your boyfriend only hummed and continued his work. “I don’t want it to scar. It blistered already.” 

“Yes, but—” 

“Almost done.”

You let him work. A few moments of silence passed. Azriel kept his gaze hard and his brow set in a harsh line. 

That wouldn’t do. 

Once your finger was fully wrapped and protected from everything Azriel could fear, you puckered your lips in contemplation and shook your head. 

“Still hurts really bad,” you admitted, leaning back against the counter. Azriel followed your movements, leaving little space between you. 

“What?” he questioned, a tinge of panic in his tone. “That should’ve numbed it. How bad does it hurt?” 

“Really, really bad. Like my whole hand is on fire, actually.”

Azriel—who had yet to release your fingers—stared down at them in startled befuddlement. He turned them one way and then another as if that would answer his questioning gaze, and then looked back up to meet your eyes in a way that was almost pleading. 

“I’m sorry, maybe I should—”

“You have to kiss it,” you revealed, not wanting the sad expression to linger on his face any longer. “Duh.” 

Azriel let out a breath that bordered on relief, but most of it seemed founded in exasperation. He shook his head and brought your fingers up to his lips all the same, smiling to himself as he began to kiss each of your fingertips. Even the ones that clearly weren’t burnt. He flipped your hand over and kissed the knuckles, too, capturing your eyes as he glanced at you from beneath his lashes. 

“‘M sorry you got hurt,” he mumbled with his lips against the back of your hand. “Told you you shouldn’t try cooking, baby.” 

The warm feeling that had begun to seep into your chest paled in comparison to the offended scoff that echoed in the empty kitchen. Azriel’s poorly concealed, devious smile was hidden in the kisses he started pressing into your palm, and although it would have fit the sound you let out, you didn’t pull away. 

“Azriel, you are just asking for me to—” 

“The hell is going on in here?” The kitchen door smacked against the frame as Cassian made his entrance. “Someone get hurt?” 

Azriel dropped your hand just as soon as Cassian had spotted him pressed against you, clearing his throat and turning to the disheveled first-aid kit on the counter. You brought your knuckles up to your mouth to hide your laugh at Azriel’s expense, his face flushing in vulnerability. 

“Oh, I see what was going on. You were romancing your girl, weren’t you, Az? Well, don’t let me interrupt. You came in early and everything,” Cassian teased, his hands raised in surrender. 

“We were just finishing up,” you countered, a laugh trickling through. “I have to get to class, Cass. You can start your shift.” 

“Uh huh,” Cassian smiled, raising his brows and then lowering them when he caught your hand reaching for your backpack. “You okay?” 

“She’s fine,” Azriel interrupted. He took your bag from you and slung it over his shoulder, pressing a nonchalant kiss to your head that you knew was actually not nonchalant. “I’m going to take her to school. Cover for me for 20?” 

“Sure, man.” 

“Az, I was going to take the bus you don’t have to—” 

“C’mon, baby.” 

“But I don’t even have my helmet for your bike.”

“I always bring your helmet.”

[pomefioredove]

may I request headcanons of the overblot boys + Adeuce reaction to a younger yuu that tells them that they’re like a big brother to them? Platonic obviously—

thank you!

awww ofc!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ brotherly (again!)

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, ace, deuce, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, short

Having been torn from your home, separated from your family and friends, and spit back out in a new place with new people, isn't really as fun as it sounds.

After months at NRC, though, you've managed to make yourself a life here. A new home, new friends, even new family.

Now, sitting close to the person you've become fondest of, you let slip that you seem him as a brother.

His reaction?

I am of the (kind of depressing) opinion that Riddle's life would be much better if he had a sibling. he hasn't really thought about it, per se, but he's always had this feeling...

so, when you tell him as much, he just... 🥺🥺 you know?

he's in protective brother mode from this moment on (for better or worse, lol)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the bond you have with Ace and Deuce has gone unspoken, but all of you know what it is. you saying it, though, makes it all the more real

as warm and tender of a moment as it is, Ace still feels the need to make a joke about how sappy you're being (affectionately, of course), and Deuce can only hum with excitement at the acceptance and warmth between the three of you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

admittedly, Leona is a little... put off. at least, he is at first. he doesn't exactly have a great relationship with his own brother, and with no other examples to go off of, it feels kind of like an insult

he... gets what you mean, though

and, reluctant as he is to be so vulnerable, he'll say you're just as much of an annoying little sibling to him

lovingly, of course

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul had friends before you... kind of... but none as near and dear to him. he could never quite explain what this feeling was until you said it

ah... that's it. family. he almost feels embarrassed, being so vulnerable all of a sudden, and he can barely get out that he feels the same way

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil has younger siblings already, and he could tell the two of you were forming a similar bond before you said as much. he'd caught himself treating you just how he treats his sister on multiple different occasions (for better or worse, lol), and...

he's glad that you're here with him. that's all he'll say... for now

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

many people would think you'd have to hit your head to say something like that to the Vil Schoenheit

he's untouchable! he's godlike! he's... lol. just kidding. he's quite fond of you, too, and hearing those words come from you is better than any amount of likes, any award or role. you're his favorite person, after all

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

dude, are you trying to make Idia cry??? because he will! and then he'll bubble-wrap you and Ortho so you can never go anywhere or get hurt ever

he... has some things to work through. obviously. but, really, he and Ortho have basically adopted you already, so hearing you say it... in a good way... call him cringe, but he could get a little emotional over that

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you think of Malleus as your brother? then you must also think of Silver the same way. and Sebek... would you be interested in adoption, because Lilia-

yeah. you get it. welcome to the family, lol. Malleus has already decided you're his best friend forever and ever, and hearing you call him family... hohhh that overblot is going to hit hard when you guys get there

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : OFF SCRIPT : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None! Mentions of (Y/N)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You star with Hugh Jackman in a steamy movie, but the lines between acting and reality blur when Hugh starts developing real feelings for you. After confessing his jealousy and attraction, you realize you feel the same, and the two of you go off-script to explore a genuine connection.

Based on this request.

THE MOVIE SET WAS BUZZING WITH EXCITEMENT, lights flickering, cameras rolling, and the tension in the air palpable. You’d landed the lead role in an upcoming erotic thriller—a bold career move that had sparked more than a few raised eyebrows. However, what really set tongues wagging was your co-star.

Hugh Jackman. The Wolverine. The greatest showman himself.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. At 55, Hugh was a global icon, still radiating that rugged charm and magnetic energy that made audiences swoon. You, on the other hand, were in your early thirties, on the rise, and wondering how on earth you’d ended up in a movie where you’d have to—well, you know—get intimate with Hugh Jackman.

The director had wasted no time throwing the two of you into the deep end. The first few scenes together? Explosive chemistry. And Hugh, ever the professional, made it feel so natural, even though you both spent half the day either semi-naked or in bed, pretending to tear each other’s clothes off.

~🎬~

"Alright, everyone, places!" The director clapped his hands, signaling the next shot.

You glanced at Hugh, who was casually leaning against a prop desk, shirtless. He caught your gaze, and for a moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes. Something that wasn’t just acting. You brushed it off as nerves.

"Let’s do this," you muttered to yourself, adjusting the strap of your robe, which you’d soon be dropping.

Hugh approached you, flashing that million-dollar grin. "You ready for this?"

"As ready as I’ll ever be," you replied with a nervous laugh. "I’m still not sure how you can do this with such confidence."

He chuckled, voice low and warm. "Years of experience, love. Just remember, it’s all choreography. We’re professionals."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Right. Professionals. Naked professionals."

Before he could respond, the director’s voice boomed again, "And…action!"

The scene called for you to push Hugh up against the wall, all passion and heat, and for the next few minutes, that’s exactly what you did. Your bodies pressed together, lips inches apart, the camera capturing every bead of sweat, every intense breath. But between takes, there was something more—an almost imperceptible softness in Hugh’s touch, a lingering glance when the director called cut.

~🎬~

Later that day, you found yourself in another steamy scene—but this time, not with Hugh.

Jake, one of the other actors, had been cast as a secondary love interest, and while your chemistry with him was nowhere near as electric, it was enough to sell the scene. You were mid-take, kissing Jake on a couch when you noticed Hugh watching from behind the camera. He was supposed to be off set for this, but there he was, arms crossed, a small frown on his face.

"Cut!" The director called. "That was good, but I need more passion, (Y/N). Really go for it."

You tried again, but the second your lips met Jake’s, you caught Hugh’s expression in your peripheral vision. Was he…jealous?

The next take was even worse. Your brain refused to cooperate, replaying the image of Hugh standing there, looking like he was about to burst through the set like Wolverine in a rage.

Finally, the director let you both off the hook and called for a break. As you got up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you felt a presence behind you. Hugh.

"Bit of a rough take, huh?" he said, his voice low, but his eyes held a teasing glint.

You spun to face him. "Were you watching?"

"Yeah, well…" He shrugged, trying to look casual. "It’s hard not to when…you know…" He gestured vaguely at Jake. "You’re out there, doing that."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Doing what, Hugh?"

His lips twitched into a smirk, but he quickly suppressed it. "Nothing. Just… I mean, does it have to be so steamy?"

"Uh, yeah, it’s in the script," you teased back, crossing your arms. "Are you getting jealous?"

"What?" He let out a laugh that sounded way too forced. "Me? Jealous? Ridiculous!"

You stepped closer, eyes glinting with mischief. "Sounds like jealousy to me, Jackman."

"Okay, fine, maybe a little," he admitted, running a hand through his hair, that charming grin back on his face. "I mean, I get it. I know it’s acting, but…you know, it’s weird seeing you kiss someone else. Especially when we’ve, uh, done…everything but that."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, remembering your more intimate scenes with him. "Hugh, you do realize that we’re supposed to be acting professionals, right?"

He sighed, his smile turning softer. "Yeah, but sometimes, things get a little blurry. At least for me."

You blinked, caught off guard. "Wait… are you saying you…?"

"I’m saying I might’ve caught feelings for you somewhere between take seven of that bedroom scene and the moment you pushed me up against that wall," he confessed, his voice serious now.

Your heart did a weird flip in your chest. This was not in the script. "Hugh, I—"

"Look, I know there’s an age gap, and this is all very unprofessional, but…" He ran his hand over his face, clearly frustrated with himself. "I don’t know, (Y/N). It’s been getting harder to separate what’s real and what’s not."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the director called everyone back to set before you could get a word in.

~🎬~

The rest of the day was a blur, Hugh’s confession playing on a loop in your mind. By the time you wrapped for the day, you found him sitting in one of the trailers, staring at his phone, clearly deep in thought.

You knocked softly on the doorframe. "Hey."

He looked up, his face softening as soon as he saw you. "Hey."

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. "So…about earlier."

He stood up, his hands slipping into his pockets, suddenly looking far less like the confident actor you knew. "Yeah, about that…"

"Was that you going off-script?" you teased, though your heart was racing.

He chuckled, but his eyes stayed serious. "Something like that."

You took a deep breath. "Well, for the record…I think I’ve been blurring the lines, too."

His eyes widened in surprise. "You have?"

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Yeah. I mean, how could I not? You’re Hugh freakin’ Jackman."

He let out a real laugh this time, the tension in the room breaking. "And you’re (Y/N) freakin’ (L/N)."

You smiled, taking a step closer. "So, what do we do now?"

He shrugged, stepping toward you as well. "Well, there’s no script for this part. I say we improvise."

With that, Hugh closed the gap between you, pulling you into a soft, lingering kiss—one that felt far more real than anything the cameras had captured all day.

And for once, it wasn’t acting.

🏷️: @oatmilkriver @khxna @haytchee @corvusmorte @shybluebirdninja @chronicallybubbly @evasmlp @lex-the-flex

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!!

[tsuutarr]

Could you make a yandere farmer?

(THIS CONCEPT...... YES!!! I immediately thought of a yandere!farmer that also so happens to be a cow/bull hybrid hehe there's just something about someone who seems so bright and cheerful and helpful but is actually yandere)

“Hey there, neighbor!”

The last thing you expected when you began moving into your new house in the countryside iss the bright greeting of your friendly bullboy neighbor, but you can’t say you’re displeased. You give him a response that makes his mouth stretch into a pretty smile.

“It’s great to meet ya! We don’t get many new folks ‘round here.” He looks at the boxes by your feet curiously. “Can I help ya?”

You try to reject his offer, but his movements are quick and powerful. Before you know it, he’s helping you haul your heavy boxes into your home with ease. His help makes the move go by so much faster that it really, really makes you grateful.

When you try to offer him something to drink as thanks, he waves it off with a warm laugh. “Don’t mention it, cutie,” he says, “I’m always happy to help a neighbor in need.” For a brief moment, he looks contemplative, before he shakes his head. “Yer welcome to reach out whenever ya need me.”

With that, he waves goodbye to you, leaving you with happy feelings and unaware of the small cameras and mics he’s hidden in your home.

Since then, he keeps helping you, giving you eggs and produce from his farm. Whenever you’re in trouble, he’s there immediately, too. When your tires got punctured, when your lights went out, when your pipes clogged – he was there. You’re filled with so much gratitude that you don’t notice that none of your troubles are naturally occurring.

One day, while he’s helping you fix your stove, he says, “By the way, there’ve been reports of some wild animals running amok ‘round here.”

You gulp. Wild animals? What kind? Rabbit? Deer? Or… bears? Something worse?

“Don’t ya worry ‘bout a thing,” he continues, gently patting the stovetop once he’s done fixing it. “You’ve got my number and I’ve got a mean aim.” With a small smile, he makes a gun motion with his hand. “So don’t be scared to call me, okay?”

You nod, though you still feel a little terrified.

That very night, you’re awakened by loud noises outside of your house. Fear clutches your heart and you wonder if you locked your doors and windows, but are too scared to check. With trembling lips, you pull your blanket tighter over yourself, pressing yourself into your bed as you take a quick glance outside your bedside window. A black figure with glowing eyes and horns looks back at you, making you scream.

Before you know it, you’re wrapped in strong, warm arms as a kind voice rumbles in your ear. “It’ll be okay, sugar,” your kind farmer neighbor coos. “I’ve got ya.” 

Too caught up in the moment, you snuggle into him without questioning how he got into your house or how he was by your side so quickly. Nor do you recognize how eerily similar his horns look to the ones you saw on that black figure outside.

[wizzdot]

*short fic alert* (fic under page break)

Hear me out. Is this….John Price?!

The 141 get home late from a mission, Johnny and Gaz go straight to the showers and Simon slinks off to wherever it is he winds down after a tough few days.

You have been sat on the proverbial bench for the past few weeks with a bullet wound to the shoulder. While rendered useless to the team, you decide to take up a new hobby. So far, the boys have been lab rats for the taste tests of whatever concoction you pull from the oven.

The burnt cookies (that you’d forgotten to put eggs in) that Kyle had whined about almost breaking his perfect teeth. Johnny managed to gobble them up and didn’t seem to understand what the problem was, leading Simon to joke that the man had no taste buds.

Or the time you accidentally used Salt instead of Sugar in the Victoria Sponge cake. Kyle subtlety threw his slice in the bin while you weren’t looking making sounds as if he had enjoyed in. Johnny ate it, making it look so delicious that you were getting confident that your baking skills were finally improving. Simon took a slice back to his room and in the privacy of his own bed, took a bite, and immediately spat it down the toilet. “Christ Almighty, that fuckin’ twat really doesn’t have taste buds” he cursed.

You perfect your skills over the next couple of weeks, with Johnny and Kyle remaining endlessly supportive of your new venture. But the entire time, John avoids your baking attempts.

“Need to watch my weight, love”

“Wish I could have a bite, but I’m on a diet, sweetheart”

“Can’t afford to pile on the pounds at my age, Dove”

They are John’s favourite excuses. You won’t admit it, but it makes you sad. You want to make all of your boys happy. Also, he isn’t even that old for gods sake.

Simon knows that the Captain is avoiding your god awful attempts. But even Simon notices that your skills are slowly improving. He keeps sneaking cupcakes and cookies into his room and this past week, especially, they’d been… alright. Well - apart from the horrifically deformed attempt of decorating a cake like Yoda. It looked like a slimy goblin with wonky eyes - but it tasted ok.

So picture this, they get home from a three day long mission. You’d missed your boys. You’d left your most recent cake on the kitchen counter before going to bed. You climb out from your bed when you hear their tired footsteps heading down the hall.

You poke your head out of the door. Johnny and Kyle come over and give you a soft hug. “Christ, you boys stink” you say. “Fuck off” Kyle laughs, before stripping himself of his shirt “gonna hop straight in the shower anyway. See you in the mornin’, yeah?” he asks. I nod and watch as he leaves towards his room.

Johnny stands, watching Kyle retreat. “I smell even worse than him, hen” he says, trying to shove your head into his armpit. You fight him off and shoo him down the hall.

Simon walks past and gives a small nod, “you might want to go and see Price. He made a beeline for the kitchen” he grumbles, continuing on his way casually.

That comment puts you on edge. Is John hurt? Is he looking for you? You quickly slide on your fluffy slippers and shuffle down to the kitchen as quickly as you can.

The scene that greets you is the last thing you expect to see. The Captain, in a wide stance, leaning one hand on the counter, devouring your Cake (the best one you’d baked so far!!!) with just a single fork. He’d polished off at least half of it, showing no signs of slowing down.

You can’t help but giggle at the scene. “Is it good…?”

“Fuckin’ hell, Love. It’s delicious”

The blush that erupts over your cheeks is immense.

“That was supposed to be shared..” you mumble.

“Not in a sharing mood” he says through a mouthful of cake.

“It’s rude to chew with your mouth open, Captain” you joke.

“Teach me some manners then, sweetheart” he teases, stabbing the fork into the top of the remaining quarter of cake before crowding into your personal space.

“Cakes almost as sweet as you” he whispers into your left ear before leaving the kitchen with a smug smile as you stand frozen in place.

“Oh, I’ve forgotten something!” He mentions from down the hall before turning back and snatching the cake box from the counter. He pauses on his way out, pecking you on the cheek and heading to his office as if that was totally normal behaviour.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t stand touching the spot that he’d kissed for half an hour after he’d left.

Your phone interrupts your frozen state. It’s a text from the group chat.

………..

Johnny: “Kyle, d’ya think Cap told her how he feels yet?”

………

Johnny: “c’mon ya cunt, don’t ignore my message. I know your out the shower I can hear you laughin through the wall”

………

Simon’s voice bellows throughout the hallway “wrong fuckin’ chat, you moron” followed by Kyle cackling and Johnny swearing loudly.

You’re still standing in the doorway of the kitchen, in shock, when the door to John’s office opens.

“Guess you saw that, eh?” he asks, sheepishly.

You nod your head, zoning in on a piece of icing on the corner of his mouth. As if on instinct, you reach up and wipe it with your finger, sticking it into your mouth, before freezing again, realising what you’d just done.

Johns eyes follow your finger, hungrily.

“If you wanted to taste it, you could’ve just asked, love”

[writers-potion]

Hi! How do I write a mafia novel?

How To Write A Mafia Novel

The term “mafia novel” makes me think of a few possibilities here. It could be (1) an action-thriller where our hero is either fighting the mafia or is a part of the mafia or (2) a mafia romance novel, where the love interest(s) come from rich mafia backgrounds.

If you’re writing an action/adventure story where mafia are the bad guys:

They need to have a cause – a twisted one. No matter how bloodthirsty these mafias might be, no one works so hard for fun. 

They’re struggling financially. This is a great motive for the bad guys to attack the hero, or use more cruel methods than usual. 

The ones who are going against the mafia would be independent investigative agencies or the Federal Bureau of Investigation, not your typical cop or police. 

They’re allied with other crime groups, even with some backdoor government organizations. I don’t think the depiction of mafia groups as a self-sufficing group always exchanging insults with other groups in inaccurate. Also, this raises the story stakes when your back guys combine with other bad guys to get back at the hero.  

They can’t be threatened with just an incriminating recording or photo, especially if they’re obtained illegally – which means they’re unlikely to have power as evidence.

Mafia leaders realistically won’t force their children to take over – in fact, they’ll want to keep their family out of it altogether. 

If you’re writing an action/adventure story where mafia are the good guys:

Give them a motto that gives them a cause for the higher good. Like ‘manners maketh men’ in the Kingsmen movies. In a loose sense, the Kingsmen are mafia too – they’re a secret society with lots of money, etc. 

A running theme would be that you can afford to use questionable methods as long as the outcomes are good. The mafia would kill, steal, imprison and murder – but they always have a convincing reason. Plus, the bad guys are doing a lot worse. 

The mafia organization is flawed in a critical way. This can be anything – a newbie who starts to question the mafia’s practices, or a corrupt leader, etc. This flaw will cripple this apparently sturdy organization at the end of Act II, raising the stake sky high. 

Give them secret codes, special weapons, a quirky dress code, a tattoo? 

Show how the mafia are tightly networked among themselves, often in a good way. The senior mafia mentoring the newbies, colleagues struggling through their probation periods together, etc. The mafia are a tight-knit organization. 

For a mafia romance, what the mafia really does or how they’re structured, etc. isn’t that important. As long as you get the black suits, expensive Jaguars, and exclusive clubs/hotels vibe right, you have enough mafia worldbuilding. What’s important are the characters. 

If you’re writing a male mafia love interest:

They’re high-ranking, filthy rich, intelligent, and cold-minded individuals who are powerful beyond your usual realm of rationality. The absolute unrealness of these sexy competent men is what’s appealing. 

The mafia background becomes the “hurtful dark backstory”. One of the main selling points of dark mafia love interests is that on the inside, they’re fractured puppies in need of some sunshine to soften up. Give them a good reason why they’re assholes to your female love interest in the beginning. They’re repressed – high time.

They must be able to draw a line between being adorably overprotective and unreasonably controlling. The same goes for their use of violence. Sure, a male mafia love interest may kill that stalker who’s been bugging our heroine but don’t have him putting bullets in the heads of people who just mildly irritate him – that’s a huge turnoff. 

If you’re writing a female mafia love interest:

Your heroine is a clear-minded, physically fit, confident, and competitive mafia queen/princess with both eyes fixed on power and success – until the male love interest comes along, either as an enemy mafia or a clueless softball. 

Alternatively, they’re oppressed by their father/brother(s) who are hard-core, bloodless men. These heroines are capable in ways that are not approved by their mafia family (like a career in social services or running a bakery, whatever) and need someone to understand and remove them from their toxic family – our male love interest. 

Again, feel free to use the mafia background as a source for some juicy, traumatizing backstory.

Hope this helps :) 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! Also, join my Tumblr writing community for some more fun.

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

The fight was ugly. The first fight that you and Eddie had turned from a quiet disagreement to a full blown yelling match.

Truthfully you couldn't remember what the fight was actually about. Something silly, something miniscule that turned into a big thing.

A big argument with some horrible things said; you still couldn't get Eddie's words out of your head.

"Why would this mean anything? It's just sex isn't it?" Eddie snapped and your heart broke into a million tiny pieces. Just sex. Right. Of course that's what you two were.

Truthfully you were a mess and you should have just gone straight back home after storming out of the trailer.

Eddie has tried to go after you but you were faster and ran before he could catch up with you.

Instead you bumped into a few of your friends and hitched a ride to some party that one of Jason Carver's friends were throwing. Robin noticed your tear streaked cheeks and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

She was the only one of your friends who knew about Eddie; maybe Steve as well as him and Robin were as thick as thieves. Like platonic soulmates or something.

You and Eddie got together two months ago, passing off the hook ups as just mind-blowing sex and that worked at first. That's until you begun to get to know Eddie better and the two of you spent more time together.

Eddie was easy to fall in love with. His reputation portrayed him as mean and scary, satan obsessed and someone people should stay away from.

He was none of those things, he was kind and fiercely loyal to his friends and uncle, he was passionate and badass and really it was no surprise that you fell in love with him.

At least now you know that he doesn't feel the same way, at least you found out now before it was too late and you were even more in love with him than you are now.

Maybe you could just hang with your friends and forget the words that had broken your heart tonight.

At least you hoped that was possible.

❤️

Fuck, you really should have went home. Your head was pounding, the two beers you had made you even more anxious and upset. To make matters worse Tyler Harvey wouldn't leave you alone, he had zeroed in on you from the second you had walked through the door.

As much as you tried to avoid him, he followed you around and it was beginning to give you the creeps.

He manages to corner you when you're trying to get up to the bathroom with Robin. He stinks of beer, smoke and sweat and it turns your stomach a little bit.

Leather, smoke and the hints of woods and musk were your favourite scents in the world right now and that had to do with the man you were trying not to think about.

You cringe away from Tyler but he's so drunk that he doesn't seem to notice, he moves closer to you and you instinctively step back.

"Can you move please? Robin and I need to go upstairs" you ask him but he doesn't appear to be listening.

"Aww why don't you come upstairs with me? I'll take care of you" Tyler smirks but you don't like the look in his eyes and immediately step away from him. Yeah...no thanks. Robin is at your side at once and glares at Tyler.

"Take the hint asshole. She's not interested" Robin gently guides you away but Tyler grabs your arm at the same time and you stumble, landing hard on the floor. It knocks the wind out of you and your body throbs from the contact with the floor.

Tyler scrapers from the scene without even checking to see if you're alright. Robin is cursing out Tyler and helps you up. You're sore, annoyed and just want to go home.

Steve appears out of nowhere and Robin mentions that she called Steve when you mentioned you were getting a migraine. Relief fills you, at least you could go to Steve's for a little while and try and salvage some of the night with him and Robin.

There's a tiny voice inside of you that is aching for Eddie and it's growing stronger. You dismiss the idea, you're sure that Eddie was glad to be rid of you. That thought caused a new throbbing ache in your chest and you hurried outside with Steve and Robin determined not to think about Eddie and his big brown eyes.

❤️

As soon as you're at Steve's he puts in a movie and you settle up on the couch with Robin while Steve makes snacks. Being here is soothing and you rest your head on Robin's

Steve's landline ringing breaks you out of your sleep, Steve hurries to answer it and your heart skips a beat when you realise it's Eddie.

"Yeah, yeah dude she's with me and Robin. Some shit went down at a party we were at... Oh that asshole friend of Jason was being a prick. Yeah Tyler is it? Woah calm down man, she's fine. She's just tired"

You get up which is a little tricky as the sudden movement makes your migraine feel ten times worse but you really want to speak to Eddie.

Steve passes the phone over to you and you smile a tiny bit as Eddie is still ranting about what he wants to do to Tyler.

"Eddie, I'm okay" you murmur and he stops his rant and breathes a sigh of relief.

"Sweetheart. Fuck, I've been so worried princess. I went to your house, then Family Video. I even dropped around Wheeler's house which was a shock for Mama Wheeler to see if you were there. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I was a butthead"

The ache in your chest subsides a little bit and you relax. "I'm sorry too. I'm really sorry" tears spill down your cheeks and it's cathartic to finally let them out.

"I'm going to come and pick you up Kay? I'm not going to relax until I see that you're okay. I'll see you in about ten minutes okay?"

The tension you're feeling begins to disappear and you wait for Eddie to arrive, thanking Robin and Steve for being so amazing tonight.

True to his word Eddie arrives as quickly as he says he would and gives Steve and Robin a quick nod in greeting, he immediately pulls you close to him.

His lips press against hair and he briefly talks to Steve before guiding you out the door and into his van.

You're so exhausted from the nights escapades that you're asleep instantly.

❤️

When you wake up you're in Eddie's bed, Eddie is laying beside you and reading Lord of the Rings - The Two Towers. When he realises you're awake he presses his lips to your forehead and he tucks the covers around you, cuddles up at your side and holds you close.

"I'm sorry I was such a dickhead. You have no idea how much you mean to me, you mean everything to me and I was so scared to tell you. So I lashed out and said stupid shit. Things I didn't mean"

There's something unspoken hanging in the air, a familiar tension that's been playing the two of you for a little while now.

"I thought that you were sick of me and that's why you said those things" you confess and play with a start thread on his plaid shirt.

Eddie's jaw drops and he's silent for a moment, "Princess how could you even think that? You're...shit, I've never felt this way about anyone and it's terrifying trying to think of the right words, wondering if you feel the same way" he pauses as he lets the words sink in.

He's blushing, restless and anxious as his eyes meet yours; You sit up and cup Eddie's cheek with your hand.

"How do you feel about me Eddie?" It feels pretty certain now but you'd like to make sure. You'd like to hear him say it.

"I'm in love with you princess. How can you not see that? I guess I was just scared to tell you because I'm not exactly the perfect guy am I?" He scoffs as he says this and you scowl at the way his eyes turn sad.

"I don't care about that Eddie. Who wants perfect? I don't. I think you're amazing and handsome, you're sweet and kind, a gentleman. You make my heart skip a beat when you look at me and I feel at ease and content when I'm with you" his fingers entwined with yours and he sighs.

"You know so many people think I'm a freak, normally I don't give a fuck but I do care what others think about you" you soften and press gentle kisses over his cheek, the action causes him to smile shyly and his tense body relaxes.

"Eddie I don't give a shit what anyone says or thinks. Are you going to give us up just because of some idiots who don't matter? The only people that matter in this relationship are you and me. I love you Eddie, I'm so in love with you"

He looks up at you stunned and then he kisses you fiercely, "No I'm not giving us up. I love you sweetheart so much. You're my girl and I'm not letting you go because of some dumb assholes opinion"

The two of you spend the rest of the night making up and when you're tucked up in Eddie's arms as he falls asleep, you're left with the gentle feeling of this being where you're meant to be.

This trailer, Eddie's room, his arms around you as his soft snores fill the air. The sound of the wind blowing against the windows as you're lulled to sleep.

This felt like home.

💕

I get to love you

It's the best thing that I'll ever do

I get to love you

It's a promise I'm making to you

Whatever may come, your heart I will choose

Forever I'm yours, forever I do

I get to love you, I get to love you.

I Get To Love You- Ruelle

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

dbf! hotch who won't directly touch you but will use a toy on you as you're crying and begging for his touch 😩

So Mean, but So Good

Warnings: Smut! Age gap relationship (both adults), p in v sex, unprotected sex, sex toy, mean!hotch, degradation, rough sex, dumbification, brief biting, oral (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering, squirting, pet names, some overstimulation, Hotch is a little condescending in this one, slight praise, begging, teasing, scratching, aftercare, please let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 2.2k (my longest fic in so long haha)

Pairing: dbf!hotch x fem!reader

A/n: Yes 😩. I love this so much and I really got a bit carried away with this request haha 😅. Hope you still enjoy it anon!!

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @criminalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch @canuck-eh @luvehotch @callm3c0nfus3d @ivyflowers13 @randomuserrs

Hotch: @14buddy22 @pastanoodles11 @htchnr

@hoe4hotchner I'll tag you in this one because we talked so much about it 🤭

Let me know if you want to be added to my tags 🫶

This post is NSFW minors please DNI****

Aaron has you splayed out on his bed he's staring directly at your core. He's holding a vibrator to your clit and he has been for both of the orgasms you've had so far. It feels good, but he always feels so much better. You want his mouth and his fingers and you want them badly.

You're whining and whimpering because you feel good, but is it mostly because you just want him to touch you and he's refusing to give in to any of your pleas.

"Aaron, please touch me. I need it. Need you." You beg him and squirm. He chuckles from between your thighs and shakes his head. "No. I already told you I'm not going to touch you. Why is that so hard for you to understand, princess? You're so needy for me all the time that your toy doesn't cut it anymore, hm?" You whine again and throw your head back against his pillows with a pathetic whimper.

"You're so mean, Aaron!" He chuckles darkly this time. "I could make it worse. I could stop completely." Another whine and you look down at him. "No! No, please don't. But please, please touch me. Please? I'll be good for you. I just want you so so badly." You beg him again, tears just starting to form your eyes, and he smirks after sighing. "I don't know, sweetheart. I think it's fun watching you squirm and beg like this. Maybe a little more begging could convince me..." He smirks at you and he presses the vibrator against your clit more firmly now. You bite your lip and your hips buck involuntarily.

"Please, Aaron, please! I'll be a good girl for you, I promise! I just need you!" A tear slips down your cheek and you look down at him again. He squeezes your thigh with his strong hand that is unoccupied. "More. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you." His eyes darken and he suppresses his urge to bite the inside of your thigh.

Your toes curl and your chest shakes with a small sob. A real sob.

"Aaron, I want you to do whatever you want to do to me! I want you to eat me out, I want you to finger me, I want you to use me, I want you to fuck me until I can only say your name, but then fuck me harder so I can't even say that. I want to be a wordless mess for you. Please just touch me!" That breaks Aaron and he bites down on the inside of your thigh, no longer controlling that urge from moments ago. He tosses the vibrator aside after turning it off and he pulls his shirt over his head, throwing that somewhere as well. He buries his face in your sopping wet pussy and laps at you with his warm, wet tongue.

Moans immediately begin to fall from your lips and your thighs tighten around his head. He's groaning into you and those vibrations, though not nearly as strong as your toy, feel infinitely better. It doesn't take long for him to pull your third orgasm out of you by sucking and licking your sensitive clit.

"Aaron! Mmmmm. Thank you, Aaron! Thank you!" Your eyes are closed and your head is thrown back. All you can think of is his face between your thighs and the blinding pleasure he's giving you.

Aaron doesn't even give you time to recover from your release before plunging two of his thick fingers into your cunt and thrusting them hard and fast. He keeps his tongue on your sensitive bundle of nerves and works hard to bring you to the edge again. You're writhing around and your hips buck involuntarily against his face from the slight overstimulation you're feeling that causes you to whine and squirm.

You can feel your next orgasm building fast and Aaron can too. He angles his fingers just right and before you know it, you're a moaning mess once again for him as you release spurts of wetness that Aaron laps at immediately. He hasn't even fucked you senseless yet, still hard in his slacks after getting home from work and calling you to come over, but you already can't conjure a single thought as you twitch and spasm.

You only live a few houses away from him and he sometimes wonders if you get loud enough to let everyone know how good he's taking you. He just hopes your parents never walk by his house when you're screaming his name at the top of your lungs.

Aaron's tongue darts between your folds and back to your clit a few times before giving your nub one last harsh suck and then he pulls his face from between your soaked thighs. When you finally manage to open your eyes again, you see him removing those slacks that must be incredibly uncomfortable at this point and you see how wet his face has become from your juices.

"Mm... Aaron..." You mumble and weakly reach a hand out in his direction. "I'm here, princess. Just let me make you feel good. Since that's what you begged me for, isn't it, sweetheart? You can take more, isn't that right, needy girl?" He rests his now naked body against yours and his voice is slightly condescending, but there's still a genuine tone underneath with the second question. You let out another whine and you nod your head dumbly.

He chuckles darkly again and presses his hips against yours. "Have I already fucked you dumb, princess? I've only had my fingers in you and you can't even speak." He grinds his hips against yours and keeps looking down at you beneath him. His cock rubs against your folds and your clit which causes your hips to jolt from the sensitivity.

Aaron smirks and he reaches down to grip his throbbing length in his large hand. He guides his tip through your folds now. "You're so pretty like this. All dumb for me. You're so sensitive now, but you still want more, don't you?" You nod dumbly one more time and whimper. "Normally I would make you use your words but you can't even form them, can you?" You shake your head this time and he chuckles before pushing his entire length into you.

He fills you completely and stretches you deliciously. It causes you to moan right into his ear as he groans into yours. Your fingers claw at his back and he's sure there will be scratches all over his skin soon enough. He loves being able to admire them in the mirror, remembering how he took you so nicely to cause you to mark him up like that.

He's buried deep inside of you now, but he hasn't started moving. It's not because he's letting you adjust, it's because he wants to tease you some more by not immediately setting his pace and taking you hard and fast. Which you don't realise until you have been waiting for a minute or two for him to begin thrusting , only for him to not do so. You whine and try to move your hips to signal that you want him to move. He grips one to keep you still.

"You know, I think I want you to beg me just a little more. I know you've lost your words, but why don't you try to find them to ask for what you want just one more time, princess. Hm?" You throw your head back into his pillow with whimper and a pout that makes Aaron smirk again. "Come on, just use your words one last time..." He's decided to make you find the words you don't have after originally making you think you wouldn't need to. He's sexually frustrating but he's also like a god in bed so you don't want to complain, not that you really could anyway. So instead you just squirm and whine again which causes him to grab your jaw to force you to look at him. "Don't be a brat and do what I said, princess." He's so mean sometimes.

You go through your mind in search of the few words you need and after a moment, you're finally able to find them. "Fuck me, Aaron!" You cry out like you had earlier and with that he begins slamming his hips into yours, pounding his entire cock into you over and over again relentlessly.

Your back arches and he takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you in that moment, making sure to keep your body pressed close to his. All you can do is gasp and moan as he completely ruins your pussy. The only sounds in the room are skin slapping and whatever vocal noises you and Aaron are making, along with Aaron speaking occasionally.

"Is this what you wanted, sweet girl?" Aaron practically growls into your ear and you try your best to nod your head, but it's hard because of the force he's using to pound into you. He's practically moving you up the bed with each thrust.

It's becoming hard to keep your eyes open and all you can do is just lie there and let him ensure you won't be walking for the next few days, which means you'll be staying with him even longer as you wouldn't dare to go back home and be asked why you're limping. He continues to stretch you and pound into you, somehow making you feel like he's getting deeper and deeper each time. He brings one hand up to hold the back of your head in order to make sure you won't hit your head on the bedframe.

Aaron's other hand travels down to your core to rub your clit and you tremble beneath him. "One more. Be a good girl and cum for me one more time, princess." He whispers into your ear and you feel your next orgasm rapidly approaching. It doesn't take much longer for your thighs to start shaking and for your back to arch your chest up into his. Your mind is fuzzy and you can't think. Your entire body is taken over with the pleasure he brings you.

This also pushes Aaron over the edge and you feel his previously calculated thrusts become sloppy as he loses his rhythm. He groans loudly into your ear and moans your name as he cums inside of you. You feel the warmth spreading through your cunt and you flutter around him with one more orgasm that makes his own last a little longer.

You both stay like this for a good while, attempting to catch your breath as you come down from your highs. Aaron's arms instinctively move around you again to keep you close and you try to do the same to him, but your arms are practically useless, as is the rest of your body at the moment. You'd love to play with his hair, but you can't feel your limbs or make them move.

Aaron peppers soft kisses to your neck and jaw before moving to your cheeks, forehead, and then finally landing one on your lips. His breathing has slowed quite a bit now, but he is still hazy from his intense release. Even then, he still has this want and need to make sure you're okay and to show you his love and affection.

"You're perfect, sweetheart." He mumbles into your neck before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "How are you feeling?" His voice is rough, but soft and low at the same time. He moves one hand to gently rub at your scalp as he waits for you to respond. "I feel good...just limp." You mumble back and he can't help the small chuckle that escapes him. He smiles down at you and kisses your temple. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you." He promises you.

He keeps his promise and cleans you up after pulling out, his release leaking from you when he does, and he showers you with all of his affection in the ways he always does. He gets you some cold water and something to snack on. He puts something on for you to watch together and he snuggles you constantly unless you need him to get you something because you physically can't walk right now and won't be able to for at least a day or two.

He rubs your arms, back, shoulders, and neck to help you stay relaxed and he gives you small pecks on your lips and all over your face. He loves you and he wants to keep you protected in his arms. He wants to hold you and treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Yes, he loves to be rough with you and degrade you in bed; maybe being a little mean on occasion, but that's for your benefit and his and it's just a game for pleasure. Outside of those times, he just wants you to feel peace, comfort, safety, and love when being with him. Which you do. You always do and you're certain it will never change.

[hitomisuzuya]

Hii suzu!! So, i dunno if this particular idea already been asked. So if it's already done, please don't mind this one!

Reader edging scara. Like, really, really edging n teasing him for a full whole day. Making out, Slipping hand to his thigh under the table while in meeting.. Stopped rubbing him through his pants right when he's almost reach climax.. Etc.

So when back on bed at night? Scara couldn't handle it anymore and fucking reader roughly without mercy. Maybe even a hint of mind break on reader side. (Sorry if this doesn't make sense, english is hard. ;-;)

That's all, go wild with this one if you decided to write this! i hope you have a good day, suzu! Love your writings as always <3 don't forget to take care of yourself 💕

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Masturbation. Orgasm denial. Brat taming. Cunnilingus. Degradation. Edging. Mind break. Dom! Scaramouche.

Thank you very much, dear❤️ Sorry this took a bit to get to. You take care of yourself too🥺

The state you are reduced to now was a far cry from your earlier demeanor. You'd been an absolute menace today. It started with your hand on his thigh, your lithe little fingers stroking and teasing him outside his shorts under the table. All the while smiling politely while he struggled to keep up with the meeting.

Usually it was his fingers teasing between your legs during a meeting, pumping them in and out of your sopping cunt, drinking in the sight of watching you struggle. What was making you so bold?

After the meeting, abruptly condensed and cut short, your lips had been sweet and hungry on his. You'd taken his dick from his shorts, exploring his mouth and letting him wrestle your tongue into submission. You pumped and stroked your hand on his straining cock until he was whimpering into your mouth, rutting into your hand like a mutt in heat.

But you, for some reason, had to push him even further. He'd been about to put you on your knees, and force his cock past your lips. Stroking your hair while he bobbed your head, promising to fuck you full tonight, that cumming down your throat would have to appease you for now. Good girls deserve a treat to tide them over.

He didn't get to. You took your hand away before he could cum. Leaving him frustrated the rest of the day.

Now look at you. His mouth on your pussy was reducing you to the same state you'd left him in earlier.

"Impatient slut," Scaramouche growled, tightening his fingers on your thighs. "You want to tell me what you were trying to pull earlier," He swirled his tongue around your clit. The throbbing in your clit made you gasp, squirming as you grinded your pussy on his mouth.

"I just..I just.." You were struggling to find the right words. Each lick and caress of his tongue was teetering you closer to the edge. Agonizingly slow. You pushed his mouth down onto your cunt. "I just wanted your attention," You managed to whimper.

He groaned into your pussy, latching his lips onto your clit. As sweet as you sounded, there was no way he was going to get ahead of himself and lose control. You needed to be broken, just a little bit. Which meant you would absolutely shatter like glass.

"You wanted my attention that badly? I was going to stuff your greedy cunt full regardless," He hissed, narrowing his eyes in a glare up at you. "You really are a fucking slut," He hooked two fingers abruptly inside of you. He needed to hear you beg while he kept you right on the edge of cumming.

"Only your fingers?!" You protested, rocking your hips up. Your body had been burning and aching for him all day. And now he was only making you ache worse. Your desperate moans more than told you could hardly stand it any more.

"You brat," Scaramouche hissed, reaching down to palm and rub his straining cock. He couldn't deny he loves it when you get like this. He was only going to enjoy putting you in your place that much more.

Tears welled into your eyes as you looked down at him. You waited, your body tense and twitching in anticipation. Anticipation of more degradation from him, a more brutal pace of his fingers. Something, anything. But you got nothing.

Nothing but his tongue and his fingers abusing your dripping hole and your swollen clit. This was clearly about his pleasure now. It was almost unbearable for you. He could tell in the way your body twitched as he latched his lips around your clit. He casually hooked his fingers into your sweet spot, only giving you the slightest jolt of pleasure before taking it away.

You broke best that way.

"Tell me slut, do you want to cum?" A smirk coiled on the corners of his lips. The longer he brutally edged you, the deeper the look of desperation in your watery eyes.

"Yes, so badly," You moaned, grinding shamelessly on his mouth, trying to urge his lips and tongue firmer on your clit. You needed him so badly it hurt. You tugged on his hair to emphasize your pleas.

"Hmm?" He prodded his tongue on your sensitive clit, making your legs quake as you rolled your hips up. "That's too bad," He taunted, laughing softly into your pussy. It made his cock pulse to deny you the same you had earlier.

He hooked his fingers generously for the first time into your sweet spot, curling it extra before pulling them from your pussy. You cried out in both bliss and protest before you were unceremoniously flipped over onto your stomach.

"Ass up, whore," From his tone you knew he wasn't going to be gentle. Your cunt clenched at the thought. You raised your ass up, going down onto your elbows and giving him a view of your sopping cunt. "Bratty sluts like you need to be bred into their place."

Your pussy clenched around nothing as he pinched and rubbed your clit. You yelped in bliss feeling his hand smack roughly on your ass, making you arch your back as you grinded on his cock. Fuck you are so irresistible like this, craving his every touch.

Grasping his cock, Scaramouche moaned as he pushed it slowly inside. He bottomed out with a fluid thrust. The tight feeling of your pussy sucking him in made him lose control then.

He pulled out, only to stuff his cock back into your pussy all at once. It didn't take him long to set a brutal pace, his hands grasping your hips possessively. Fucking you roughly from behind was a dominant way for him to break you.

"Scara! Scara! I can't..breathe," You moaned, his cock head hammering into your sweet spot made your head spin. You moaned like you were finally getting something you were denied for years.

Scaramouche's cock squelched loudly in and out of you. "Going from teasing like a slut, to moaning like a slut," He laughed as your walls clutched around his cock, "Fuck, you feel so tight," He lost himself in taking the frustration of being teased by you earlier out on your pussy.

He still held your orgasm in the palm of his hand. He was dangling the promise right in front of you, little by little. "Please, please, I'm sorry. Just let me cum," You sobbed in pleasure, clawing at the sheets before reaching down to rub your clit.

Scaramouche batted your hand away, helping you along himself. You had a certain way of moaning right before cumming. He knew the moment your mind essentially shattered. Your body felt more pliable in his hands. "Yes, that's my good girl. Break just like I want," He groaned.

[springgirlshowers]

Let Me Show You

Summary: You haven’t been feeling very pretty lately, Joost decides to prove you wrong, and he won’t let you finish until you admit that you are.

CW: negative self talk/self image, tiny bit of crying, body worship, teasing, praise, so much foreplay, fingering, cunnilingus, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, i use google translate for dutch (im sorry 😭)

WC: 2827

A/N: i wassss gonna wait to post this, but i couldn’t help myself it feels wrong to keep the world waiting </33 challenge: take a shot every time the word “kiss” is said in this fic

You hadn’t been feeling well at all today.

Not in the sick with the flu sort of well, more of just not feeling well with yourself. Not feeling content with yourself.

It started in the morning, when you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Joost was already gone, needing to stop by Teuns to clean up a few songs.

You leaned forwards in the mirror, analyzing your face. Feeling disappointed at it, for some reason, it felt like every single tiny little flaw was extremely noticeable. Every blemish, every bump, every pore, it all felt so much more noticeable.

You pushed at the apple of your cheeks, then leaning away from the mirror to look at your body.

You turned to the side, looking at your stomach and squeezing the flesh. Dropping your arms weakly as you continued to stare at yourself.

You felt ugly. You hated it. You wanted to crawl out of your own body.

Since that was impossible, you threw on a matching pair of gray sweats. Then curling yourself into a ball under the sheets. Hiding away from the world.

About three hours later, you heard the door unlock and the sound of shoes being kicked off. Joost called out your name, stopping once he saw the sight of your back and head on the bed, the rest of you covered up by the duvet.

He knew you were awake, it was only a few minutes after 3PM.

He walked over to your side of the bed, sitting on the edge and smiling at you as he stroked your hair. He could already tell from the look on your face that you were upset.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He spoke softly, eyebrows knit together in concern.

“Nothing, I’m just a bit tired.” You shrugged, Joost let out a breath through his nose, seeing straight through your lie.

Joost was your lover, of course he knew the difference between a tired expression versus a gloomy expression on your face.

“I know it’s not that, schat. Something’s bothering you.” Your eyes darted away for a second, you were trying to decide if you should keep up this act of just being “tired” or be honest.

“It’s really nothing, Joost.”

“You keeping whatever it is bottled up is only gonna make it worse, liefje. Trust me, I would know.” Joost tutted, rubbing your thigh.

He was right, you would know as well. You’ve told him the same thing before when he’d be upset about something.

"I just..." You sighed as you sat up, already feeling embarrassed about your upcoming confession. "I haven't been feeling very pretty lately." Joosts face turned into an immediate frown.

"How? What's not pretty about you?" He sounded almost insulted, insulted by the fact you would think so negatively about you.

"My face looks wrong. My body looks wrong. I’ve got a tummy on me. I don't know. I don’t know how to explain it exactly, I just don't feel attractive." You sighed, dragging your hands down your face.

“We all have a tummy. I’ve got a tummy.” He poked his stomach, smiling looking at it and then back up at you.

You shook your head as an amused smile spread on your face, you pulled the duvet off the rest of your body due to the heat becoming uncomfortable.

“You know what I mean, Joost.” You silently groaned and put your face into your hands.

“I do. But I don’t care.” Joosts voice was smooth as he removed your hands from your face, your eyes were already watering, he let out a sympathetic hum.

“You might not think it. But you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

You knew Joost was telling the truth. Anytime he would look at you, he felt like he was looking at an a real life angel sent by God himself.

You were just too far deep in the rabbit hole of your negative self talk.

Tears began to slip from your eyes and you turned your head away, Joost still had his hands cupped lightly around your face.

“I’m sorry. You know I don’t look pretty when I cry.” You sniffled, wiping away tears with the back of your hand. “My face gets all pink and blotchy.”

Joost gently turned your face back to him, taking in all your beautiful features.

“I love your face. Even if it’s all pink and blotchy.” His words got a small laugh out of you, he grinned .

“You really think so?” You asked, voice still shaky.

“I know so.” He wiped away another tear from your cheek with his thumb. This was cliché, but you loved it. You loved him.

“I can prove it to you, if you want?” Joost raised his brows, you knew exactly what he was suggesting. You nodded happily.

He quickly put his lips against yours, kissing so passionately. So sweetly.

“I wanna make a deal, ja?” Joost said in between kisses. You nodded.

“I’m gonna show you how beautiful you are.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. “I’m going to tell you, show you until you know it’s true.” He kisses the other side. “And then…you’re gonna tell me how pretty you are, then I’ll make you cum. Ja?”

“Joost..” You mumbled out, flustered already.

“You okay with that deal?” He kissed your lips gently, brushing some hair out your face.

“Okay. Okay. We have a deal.” You giggled, eyes closing.

“Good.” He smiled, the type of smile that made you feel like you could melt straight into the sheets. He kissed you one more time before moving his lips along your jaw.

He moved his hand, rubbing his thumb softly over your bottom lip.

“You know how much I love your lips.” He ran his mouth along your jaw, before moving to hover his face over yours.

“And your nose. This cute little nose.” He gave you a peck just on the tip of your nose, tapping it after and making a little boop! noise.

His antics got a small sniffle and laugh out of you. God, he was so silly. So unserious in such an intimate moment like this. You loved it. It made your nervousness fade away.

He moved to kiss both your eyelids next, so silly.

“Your eyes, I could stare into them all day if you didn’t think it was so creepy.” He chuckled. “Zo mooi. Ik zie je gezicht in mijn dromen.” He whispered, quickly moving his mouth to your neck. Your breath hitched as he placed sloppy kisses all over it.

His mouth ran over that sweet spot that made you let out a soft whimper, you could feel his smirk against your skin.

“Mijn mooie meisje.” His breath against your neck tickled, making you inch away from it.

His hands began to slide underneath your baggy sweatshirt, sliding up and down before going up one last time and bringing your sweatshirt with him.

He soon did the same with your sweatpants as he moved his lips along your collarbones, you lifted your lips to help remove them. He tossed them on the floor, along with your top.

He pulled away from your skin to look at you in complete awe. You were a bit embarrassed due to your extremely plain underwear, you didn’t bother to put on a bra this morning. If you knew you’d be getting intimate today, you would’ve worn something nicer.

Yet Joost didn’t care, his face didn’t care at all. Still staring at you like you were a dream come true. You were.

“Can’t believe you’d want to hide such a gorgeous body like this.” He grazed his fingers down your arm, grabbing your hand and lifting it up to your mouth, kissing your knuckles.

Your hands came up unconsciously to conceal your chest. Joost didn’t let this happen. He intertwined his hands with each of yours, holding them against the mattress.

“Aw, no hiding. I wanna see these pretty tits of yours.” You bit your lip and turned your head away, surprised at his explicit words.

He quickly brought his lips to your chest, kissing all over it. Between the valley of your breasts, above and below them. Finally placing his mouth on one of them.

A sharp gasp let out of you, Joost chuckled against you. Sucking and nipping at your breast, leaving red and purpling hickies.

He took your nipple into his mouth, making you squirm and arch your back slightly, he moved one hand to your other breast. Squeezing and playing with it for a little before switching his mouths attention to that one.

He didn’t need words to tell you how much he loved your tits. The messy kisses from his mouth were enough.

He ignored the way his dick was hardening in his pants at the sounds of your whimpers and breaths of pleasure. This evening, he was focusing on you, and you only.

He trailed his lips down, stopping at your stomach. He dragged his hands down, sliding them to the sides of your waist and squeezing, making you shiver.

“You know how much I love your tummy. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve fallen asleep when I lay my head on it.” He pressed a kiss just below your bellybutton. “Such a cute stomach, I don’t get how you could be so embarrassed of such a beautiful tummy like this.”

You weren’t sure how your stomach could be beautiful. But then you remembered all the times you thought the same about Joosts, going insane over the sight of it.

“All day all I do is want to hold you. I dream about it when I’m away. Did you know that?” He looked up at you, he looked like a goddamn dream.

You shook your head and he gave you a dramatic pout.

“No? I guess I should’ve told you sooner.” He moved his hands and squeezed your hips, another giggle escaped you.

He trailed small, slow, pecks above the waistband of your underwear. Soon hooking his fingers underneath and pulling them down your legs. Kissing your thighs as he did so.

He parted your legs with gentle hands, letting out a coo of adoration at the sight of you. You blushed and bit your finger, turning your head to the side.

He brought a tattooed hand back up to the side of your face, turning your gaze back to him as his thumb smoothed over your cheek.

He smiled at you with a face of pure infatuation. Not needing words to say how he felt about you once again.

He leaned down, eloping his lips around yours as you brought your head up from the pillow, pushing into the kiss.

A finger came up to your clit, gathering your wetness, you let a shaky breath into his mouth.

“It’s okay.” He smiled. Making a beeline of kisses all the way down until his mouth stopped right above your clit.

He held onto your thighs, bringing them up and squeezing the plush of them in his hands, bending your legs.

“Oh, so soft. I’d live in between your legs if you let me.”

“Naughty boy.” You giggled.

“Just being truthful.” He shrugged, he watched in adoration as he rubbed his middle finger in between your folds, his finger already covered in your slick. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” He cooed.

He carefully inserted his finger inside you, staring at your face with a smile, watching how your mouth parted, eyes fluttering.

He came back up as his finger slowly pushed in and out, watching your face up close as he inserted a second finger.

“You ready to tell me what you are? Hm?” You tried your best to look at him as you let out a whiny moan. Which was your way of saying “Not really.”

“No? Then I should stop here, ja?” His fingers slowly began to pull out.

“Nononono. Pleasepleaseplease.” You breathed out, grabbing his hand to keep it from fully pulling away. He let out a defeated sigh.

“You’re lucky you’re so stunning. I’ll let you get away with it for now.” He kissed your cheek.

You let go of his wrist as his fingers began to pick up their pace once again, your eyes fluttering shut and mouth parting will small gasps.

He moved his mouth back to your chest, sucking at your tits, leaving little lovebites, you knew you’d be covered in red and purple marks by tomorrow.

He continued that same pattern of kissing trailing down until he reached your cunt.

“Cmon liefje, I need you to tell me how beautiful you are.” He rubbed his head against your thigh.

You shook your head as you bit down on your lip, eyes squeezing shut, you were already close to an orgasm.

“Hm, if you’re not gonna tell me, then I guess we��ll stop here.” He shrugged, puffing out his bottom lip as he removed his fingers from you.

“No!” You whined out at the sudden emptiness, cunt clenching around nothing. “Joost, you’re being mean.” You whined, hips squirming.

“Mm, I’m being fair. You tell me you’re pretty and I will let you cum.” He flicked a finger quickly against your clit, he grinned at the way your body jerked.

“Just admit what we both know is true.” He said in a sing-song voice. You rolled your eyes, frustrated.

“If you just tell me then I’ll give you want you want, liefje.” He teased again.

“Fine. I’m pretty.” You mumbled, you saw the way Joosts face perked up.

“Speak up schatje, I cannot hear you.” He could hear you, but he wanted to hear you loud and clear.

“I’m pretty.” You said, much louder this time.

“How pretty?” He cocked his head in a mocking manner, resting it against the plush of your thigh as his fingers slowly increased their speed.

Was he really doing this? Bastard.

“Really pretty. Fuck- I’m really pretty.” You said through shaky breaths.

“Ja, keep going.” He encouraged, licking a stripe up your cunt as his fingers pumped into you, and you whined again, he loved how flustered you looked.

He was eating you out like a man starved, his tongue deep and swirling circles around your clit, you weren’t even sure you’d be able to speak any coherent words.

“I’m pretty. God, fuck- I’m really pretty, Joost.” Your back began to arch off the bed, your hand reaching down to grip his hair as he hummed against your core.

“I’m so pretty, Joost. So so pretty, please. I’m beautiful, god. Fuck. Please, I’m pretty.” You begged, repeating it like it was a mantra. This was exactly Joosts goal.

“Dat klopt.” He pulled away from you to praise, his breath fanning against your cunt before he attached his lips back to it, beginning to suck on your clit.

Joost held onto your hips to still them. Your legs began to shake and the moans leaving you were borderline pornographic, loud and dramatic. But they were real, not forced.

“Joost, please, Joost. I’m pretty. Please can I cum? Please?” You begged, tears forming in your eyes. All the teasing before this made you so sensitive.

“Go ahead.” The vibration of his voice added to the pleasure, his fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot.

Finally, finally you were cumming. The waves of your orgasm crashing over you, the intensity making the tears in your eyes fall and trail down the sides of your face. Joost continued as you rode through the aftershock, squealing and crying out as your grip on his hair tightened. He moaned against your dripping core.

He finally pulled away once your moans became raspy and you were squirming around. His chin covered in your wetness while he had the most prideful cheesy grin on his face.

“Mijn prachtige meisje. You did so good. So good for me.” He whispered against your skin, pressing small kisses all around your pussy and onto your thighs. Your body twitched with each peck, already overstimulated from all the teasing he did.

He crawled back up to hover over you, wiping the tears that fell with a gentle hand. A saccharine smile on his face to match the saccharine kiss he gave you next. You were still so shaky and out of breath, eyes droopy as you looked at him.

“Feel any better?” He ran his fingers through your hair, scratching at your head, you leaned into his touch.

“Yeah…actually. Yeah.” You gave him a puzzled smile, not expecting this to actually work.

“See. I knew you’d try for me.” He smooched your forehead.

“I’m really sweaty, I need a bath.” You laughed, still breathless.

“I’ll run you one.” He sighed playfully, knowing that your words were a request.

“Will you carry me?” He let out another chuckle, shaking his head in amusement before scooping you up bridal style.

“I can never say no to you.”

[asharasasylum]

A Heavy Hand

authors note: this is another fic i've manage to find from my old blog and edited for a repost. my first dark rafe fic so i hope you all like. warnings: non con. dub con. step-cest. degrading. smut. 18+

Rafe's hand on your thigh was heavy, impossible to get off no matter how many times you had tried. It wasn’t like you could make a scene at the dinner table with so many people around, Rafe would only find a way to weasel himself in a lie to your parents. 

Normally they would believe you over him but lately you had been acting up, hanging out with the wrong crowd of people and Rafe had been the one to rat you out to your parents.

After everything with Sarah, your mother was livid to find out you had been hanging around the cut. But your step dad, it had cut his already open wound deep to think he could have another daughter that would abandon him in his time of need. You were house bound until they knew they could trust you again, making Rafe the main person to watch over you. 

He seemed to be awfully happy about that. His lips had twisted into a smirk when your parents turned their backs away. The same one that adorned his face now as his hand shifted a little higher up your bare thigh.

You had to clamp your thighs together, crossing your legs over to make sure Rafe couldn't go any further. With that the smile dropped from his face, his face turning to you now with an uneasy stare. He didn't seem upset, no his expression seemed like he was challenging you as he leaned in closer.

"I'm going to need that hand back if I'm going to eat," Rafe whispered, raising his eyebrows at you.

There was no arguing that so with a slight bit of hesitation you unwrapped your legs, giving him the room to move his hand away. But of course you shouldn't of trusted Rafe because the second he had space, his hand slipped higher, pinky finger grazing the fabric of your underwear.

"Rafe," you yelped, thighs clamping down again.

"Y/N," Ward called across the table, looking over to the pair of you. His tone was stern and his glare was heavy as if he was warning you to not to act out of line again.

"We were just messing around," Rafe was quick to reply, playing the best older brother. One you had never seen in your years of growing up around him. "It was my fault, Dad." 

Ward brushed it off, nodding his head and turning back to his guests.

"That didn't go well for you," Rafe's voice was low as he spoke against the shell of your ear. "Going to have to start behaving a bit better if you want them to trust you again."

"Go to hell," you hissed at him, digging your nails into the flesh of his hand, hoping to pry it away.

All you did was make it worse for yourself, hoping by parting your legs slightly you would be able to force his hand away but instead he used it to his advantage. His hand cupped your covered pussy, rubbing his fingers over the material for a second, before finally pulling away. But the second was long enough to see the way your lips parted in gasp at the invasive touch. 

It was also enough for that smirk to be plastered on Rafe's face all over again. As if he had won some sort of game, that you didn't realise you had been playing.

"Aren't you happy to have a little bit of freedom?"

"It's not really freedom when I'll be hovering around you and your dick head friends all night," you retorted, rolling your eyes.

Rafe was amused by your response, it seemed he was amused by everything you did these days. The sort of amusement he derived from having some sort of control over you and your life.

You wanted to be anywhere but in his truck driving to the beach with him. But Rafe had somehow convinced Ward that under his supervision you would be fine out and about. He'd make sure not to let you out of his sight, he had swore to that.

"Fresh air, the ocean, drinks," Rafe listed, tapping on the steering wheel. "Isn't that what the sort of things Pogues like?"

"I'm pretty sure everyone from Outerbanks likes those things, Rafe," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "It’s just I don't think some enjoy it so much when they’re being monitored by their older brother who they don't get along with."

"Step-brother," Rafe was quick to snap, tone icy as he glared at the road ahead.

"Your dad is married to my mum so legally we are siblings," your voice picked up, finally ready to let your weeks worth of rage out on him. "Step siblings or not it doesn't give you the right to touch me the way you have."

"Acting like you don't like it," Rafe sneered under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

You barely heard him and as much as you were gearing yourself up to yell at him some more, to get him to repeat what he had just said, he was quick to cut you off.

"No running off today," Rafe barked at you with a pointed finger like you were some dog. "In my line of sight at all times. A Pogue even looks in your direction and you come stand by me. Understand?"

You didn't even dignify him with a response, rolling your eyes once again.

But Rafe wasn't here for your attitude and he made that clear by pinching your cheeks with his hand and twisting your face towards him. "Understand?"

"Yeah," you nodded, voice faltering at his stern tone. "Whatever."

Rafe took a second before letting your face go, holding you in place for a moment as he took in the sight of your body. You felt a cool shiver across your body at the way Rafe checked you out, his jaw clenching once it reached where your skirt cut off at your thighs.

"Pretty thing," Rafe commented, not giving you a moment to respond as he hopped out his truck.

You hated the way he called you that as if you were some sort of play thing he already had in his pocket. But more importantly you hated the way it made you feel, heat flooding your body at the words.

At all times of the night there were eyes on you, if they weren't Rafe's eyes, they were Topper's or Kelce's. You were sure he had told them of your rendezvous with the other side of the island, making it clear you were to be watched at all times.

It was no use anyway with Rafe so close no Pogue dared to step within a hundred metre radius of your spot. Which you hadn't really minded anyway, spending most of the time drinking with a few friends you had gone to school with.

The party even seemed enjoyable for most of the night, everything going smoothly even with Rafe's eyes staring daggers into your back. Until you broke his rules, slipping away for a second to get a refill on your drink.

You hadn't really been thinking when you tried to search down another keg, not even realising that you had slipped away from Rafe and his friends when you finally found one still in use. No you didn't realise until a familiar warm smile came into sight, arms wrapping around you without even giving you a chance to register they were there.

"I've missed you so much," Sarah gleamed, pulling you tight into her chest. "I didn't know when I would see you again."

You reciprocated the hug, glad to see your sister after a few weeks of no contact. Happy to know that she was still doing somewhat alright.

"I've missed you too," you replied, finally letting go over each other.

"Why haven't I seen you in ages?" Sarah asked, genuinely concerned as her eyes widened at you.

"I'm house bound mostly," you told her, frowning at the subject. "Courtesy of Rafe." It was only then did you realise you had stumbled away from him, eyes darting round not able to see him anywhere. "Fuck."

"Hey, you know you really should be careful around Rafe," Sarah's voice was shaken, fearful as she spoke. "He's dangerous."

"He's psychotic, I'll give him that," you laughed, not bothering to look around for him anymore. "And I sure bet he's going to have a field day when he finds me here."

"No, seriously Y/N.” Sarah's hand grips onto your wrist harshly, bringing your attention back to her. "You shouldn't be anywhere near him."

"You sound crazy, Sarah," you told her, eyebrows furrowing at her fearful state. "What happened?"

There wasn't enough time to answer when the rest of her friends showed up behind her. They gave you a small smile but John B was quick to place his hand out for Sarah to take.

"Let's go," he said, pulling her away.

"Well bye then," you waved her off, scoffing at the way they all just walked away.

An uneasiness settled in your stomach as you made your way back to where Rafe might still be, your drink long forgotten once you finally reached him.

You didn't know how to read Rafe when he found you, his body tense once he reached you. But there was a cool demeanour about him, a sort of façade you were sure he was putting up as he stood before you. 

"Truck, now," he snapped, placing a hand on the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd.

You didn't even know what to prepare yourself for when you got back to the car, but when you were out of sight of the crowd you weren't surprised when Rafe gripped onto your arm to drag you back to the truck.

"You really can't follow simple rules.” Rafe's tone was something you never had heard before and at first you really couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. "Have to wander off to go find some Pogue to open your legs for? I bet you love being a little slut for them, huh?"

"I am not a slut," you yelled at him, slapping against his chest with your hand. "It wasn't even like that."

"Tell me exactly what it was like. Tell me how it took you like three drinks to go in search for some attention like the whore you are." Rafe gripped onto you harder, as if the thought of it was making him angrier. "I bet that's all you need some dick and some attention, then you won't go crawling back to your beloved Pogues."

"It isn't like that," you screamed, feeling yourself become choked up from the comments he was making. You didn't even know why you felt such a need to defend yourself against him.

It was only as his icy blue gaze fell on you that you finally pinpointed the reason behind the venom that he was spitting from his mouth. It was jealousy, the thought of you being with someone else but not just anyone, a Pogue. At first you thought his attempts at groping you inappropriately or looking at you in certain ways was just another way to amuse himself by winding you up. But no, he really wanted you. And his next actions proved it even further.

"Get in," Rafe commanded, throwing the back car door open and shoving you inside.

You didn't even protest against him, scattering to the other side of the seats. You hadn't even thought why he had placed you in the back, not even questioned it until his hands started to unbutton his shorts in front of you.

He couldn't really be doing what you thought he was doing, there was no way. You were still parked up by the beach, away from the crowd but anyone could still walk or drive up beside you.

"What are you doing?" You asked, face completely dropping when he started to climb in beside you.

"Seeing as Dad and Rose's punishment clearly isn't working, I think it's time for me to make my own," Rafe seemed so sure about the words that fell out of his mouth, closing the door behind him. "Maybe then you'll listen."

"Rafe, you're joking right?" You were still in disbelief, bringing your knees up to your chest to shield yourself away from him. "You got your message across, okay? I won't go anywhere near the cut again."

"Those words are like sweet music to my ear," Rafe grinned from ear to ear, yanking you down by your foot. He pinned you down to the back seats, body hovering over you as he pulled his t-shirt off. "But I need you to mean them and right now I don't think you really mean them."

"This is too far even for you." Tears brimmed your eyes as you looked up at him, shaking your head for him to stop.

"Too far," Rafe scrunched his face up as if contemplating the idea in his head. "I think this punishment is perfectly acceptable." He leaned down, holding your hands above your head with one hand. "I think someone needs to fuck the traitorous brat out of you. Give you the attention you seem to fucking need so badly."

"Rafe-"

Your protest was swallowed with his lips on yours, in a hungry kiss. He nibbled at your lips when you didn't kiss back or open your mouth for him and when that didn't seem to work, he bit onto your bottom lip hard, making you yelp and open your mouth for him.

He had drawn blood, you could taste it when his tongue slipped into your mouth and you think the whole thing seemed to turn him on even more as he pressed up against you. 

You felt slightly docile after he was done kissing you, too busy trying to regain your breath to fight off his next move.

"Pretty thing," he seemed to admire you from above, slipping his free hand across your body. It grazed your subtle skin, fingers dancing around the edges of your clothes, taking a second before slipping your bikini top off with ease. "Fuck so pretty."

He was in a trance at the sight of your tits, admiring the way your nipples had pebbled. It shouldn't have been a shock to you when his mouth latched onto one of them but you couldn't help but yelp as you felt his wet tongue lick at your nipple. You even had to fight back a sigh at the feeling, grinding your teeth together to keep any noises of pleasure at bay.

Once you got your breath back you were able to speak again but when you opened your lips, the noise that slipped out worked against you as Rafe grinded his hips against yours, eliciting a small whimper from you.

"That's my good girl," Rafe spoke into the skin of your breasts.

"Rafe, stop this isn't right," you told him, trying to wriggle free. All you did was rub against him, enticing him even more. "We can't do this."

All that Rafe did was laugh at you, grinding slightly harder into you as he marked up your chest. Once he seemed satisfied he lifted himself up slightly, enough for you to sit up and try to slip away from him but Rafe had other plans. With one hand he shoved you back against the seats with ease, then in one swift movement he tore your panties off of your legs, throwing them onto the floor somewhere.

Then he was on top of you again, his body heavy on yours as he made himself comfortable between your legs. Your attempts to push him and slap at him did nothing to throw him off, it only seemed to egg him on as his hands pulled his shorts and boxers down.

"Rafe, please," you were crying, tears streaming down your face.

Rafe ignored your pleas as he wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a few strokes before he lined himself up. He hissed at the wetness that met the tip of his dick, spreading it across your folds as he started down at it in complete awe.

"Fuck, you're so wet baby," Rafe cooed into your ear, flicking over your clit so gently with his dick.

You couldn't stop the whimper that fell from your lips or any of the other noises when Rafe finally slid into your walls. There was no fight in you left after that, your hands grabbed onto his shoulders for stability instead of slapping him away. Your lips fell open to let out soft moans instead of pleas for him to get away.

Rafe grinned in triumphant at how easily you succumbed to him. He made sure to bury himself deep inside of you with each slow thrust, his tip brushing a part of you that you didn't know anyone would ever be able to reach. With every thrust he had your walls clenching around him, dripping like they never had before.

You wanted to say something, to tell him this wasn't right and hold your ground a bit more but you couldn't. With every roll of his hips he had you panting and whining, mind becoming fogged as you became cock drunk from it. And you could tell he was loving every second of it.

It was in the way he drank in your vulnerability with his eyes, finding himself going faster so you could cling onto him just that tiny bit more. His eyes were so dilated you could barely see the blue, it was all too clouded by the darkness that was Rafe. He winked when he noticed you looking up at him, taking it as a sign to get closer to you as he pressed his forehead against yours.

There was an intimacy in this that you weren't expecting from Rafe, in his stares and the way he sometimes brushed his lips against yours. It was confusing, something you really couldn't think about in the moment but you were grateful for it. Grateful that he wasn't being completely cruel.

"Rafe," you were breathless as he pushed a stray hair of yours behind your ear.

"You're so perfect when you're just like this," Rafe groaned, taking your legs from the side of him. He pushed them down and in between the pair of you, having your ankles dangling by your head. With this angle he was reaching in deeper, making your eyes roll back at the feeling. "So at peace beneath me."

"Rafe,” you choked.

A hand of yours reached out to push him away, finding it over stimulating as he pushed into you with no mercy. He could see you opening your lips again and not knowing if he would like what was about to come out, he shut you up the best way he knew how. As he rolled his hips into you, hard and set a brutal pace that had your nails digging into biceps for stability.

"Wait- uh," everything that left your mouth from there was incoherent to both of you, even his name wasn't pronounced properly as he fucked his rage into you.

You couldn't even help the way you were soaking him, walls sucking him in and squeezing him to keep him there. He could sense how close you were with your eyes fluttering shut and your thighs shaking. He wanted to push you there, to watch the way your face contoured as he pushed you over the edge.

But you were closing your eyes and he couldn't have that. His hand wrapping around your throat making your eyes spring open, bringing your attention back to him and grounding you a bit.

"Eyes on me princess," Rafe let out in a growl, squeezing his hand in a slight warning. "Got it?"

Eagerly you nodded even though your vision grew blurry with each second.

"You going to cum for me?" Rafe asked and you were honestly surprised how he could be so focused on you. With the way you were feeling, you could barely focus on anything.

"Yes," you managed to get out, feeling your cunt start to twitch around him.

You felt your face flush with embarrassment at the noises you made when you finally came, pussy fluttering around him. Your back arched up into him and you struggled to keep your eyes open. But you managed and you could tell Rafe was thankful, especially with the way his mouth hung open at your expressions.

He wasn't far behind, unable to hold back with the way your pussy clamped down on him, milking him of all his cum. He didn't even bother to pull out, painting your walls instead with every drop of cum he could get out. His pace grew sloppy, finally coming down giving you space to breathe as he collapsed on top of you.

It took you some time to get back to reality and Rafe sensed it as soon as your body tensed underneath him.

"We shouldn't have done that. You shouldn't have done that," you told him, voice still shaky. "This has really gone too far."

Rafe snorted at that, pressing a peck on your neck before resting his head against yours.

"I think I should tell dad." You didn't know what had come over you in that moment, his dick was still buried in you and you knew that nothing could make you muster up courage to ever speak this to your step dad.

"He wouldn't believe you," Rafe chuckled darkly, a venom in his tone that you knew so well. "I think he'll take my word when I tell him you were just slutting it out for some stupid Pogue."

"You're awful."

"Anyway you wouldn't want to tell dad. Not when you want me to fuck you just like that again."

Rafe finally moved, sitting up from his position to look around for his clothes. You noticed the mess you had made all over him, your wetness coating him, even dripping onto the seats below. You were mortified at the sight of it and how badly you wanted to do it again.

As if he could feel you staring at him, Rafe turned to look at you. A smug smile over his lips at the sight of you cowering in the corner of his truck.

"So, round two here or back at the house."

"Fuck you."

With that Rafe's hand was tugging at your hair, yanking you towards him until you positioned yourself in his lap. He didn't care how you yelled at the pain, only cared about the way his cock was springing to life once again.

"That's not a nice way to talk to your older brother," He tutted, releasing his grip on your hair.

"You're so messed up."

"Does that make you messed up too?" Rafe pushed his tip along your folds again and you couldn't help but wince at the sensitivity of it. "Seeing the way you just came on my cock."

All you could do was whine in response as he guided your hips down on his length. You knew it shouldn't be happening again but you knew there was no way you were going to stop him.

"And I really want to see you cum again."

(Dividers by @cafekitsune and @k1ssyoursister)

[oldbutchdaniel]

iwtv fanfic friday <3

happy weekend reading!

all human decisions by LuckyDiceKirby (@luckydicekirby) m, 19k

Daniel’s bastard maker had the advantage over him: he could travel by daylight. By the time Daniel woke at dusk, sprawled on the couch and actually literally tucked in, there was no sign of him. Well, fuck Armand. Daniel might be a newly minted best-selling conspiracy theorist whose sanity was being publicly debated on every existing social media platform, but he was still a journalist. He could track down one monstrous extremely divorced serial killer, easy.

(armand is sooooooo annoying in this. he's everything to me.)

colour me your colour, baby by hederabug m, 2.6k

“Daniel.” Daniel hears the soft, but insistent voice first as a distant call, as if she’s submerged in water. She breathes air when Armand’s hand grabs at her shoulder. “Wake up, lover.” Armand is on all fours, hands and knees on the bed above where Daniel’s still lying down, so they’re face to face. Armand’s brown eyes are glinting with some manic light, her face cast in shadow, striking chiaroscuro, lit only by the dull amber glow of the bedside table.

(rest assured i will be doing a dm yuri theme week soon and rest assured this will be on it. but it was too good not to include here. i need like 17 more fics in this series)

With His Heart Still Intact (They Didn't Do It Right) by CaravanOfCrows (@asthedeathoflight) t, 6k

A series of collisions; in which free will exists but fate isn't going down without a fight. (surely Armand and Daniel only have extremely normal feelings about freedom and agency and destiny)

(WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE DM SOULMATE AU AGAIN. CAN WE TALK ABOUT IT PLEASE)

marketplace heart-eater by eggalbumin m, 6k

Daniel picks up a blade from the stack of discarded tools in the kidney tray. It has blood on it. “I’m a little scared to ask,” he says, with the aura of someone who isn’t very scared of asking at all, “but who’s blood is this?” Mine. Yours. My master’s, twice-diluted. Why does it matter anymore? It’s poison either way. “The doctor was just showing me how to do incisions. It’s fascinating work.”

(really fucking awesome armand character study. the first time i ever found marius compelling due to the fact that he's written from the lens of armand's tangled knot of being. like i think he should be killed with hammers as much as the next guy but he makes for such a fascinating narrative concept)

did you believe in the glass city by tei @bloodripelives nr, 5.9k

"Yes," Armand breathes. "Yes. Is anything they did to me worse than what I have done to you?" Daniel wants to say yes, but shit, he's not even sure what Armand had done to him. And whatever it was, he is sure that he would have let him do worse.

(daniel tracks down marius for the sake of armand's tangled knot of being. it goes as well as you would expect. so fucking beautiful and soooo fucking compelling. made me cry at least twice. read it now)

[toiletclown]

breathless. (part two.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

mostly fluff, a little angst.

part two of probably 5/6 (i can't stop writing this fic)

summary: to 'train' for an upcoming guitar hero stream, you head to spencer's for the first time in weeks. the tension is thick, and you have to call your best friend, angela, for some input. your feelings were growing to lengths you weren't sure you could handle -- but what other choice do you have?

word count: 2251 (7000+ remaining)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It was not fine. The AC in Spencer’s apartment had broken sometime between him going into the office and him coming back home. He sent you a text to let you know, and even offered to bring all his stuff to yours if that was easier, but you knew how many cords and controllers that entailed and told him it was fine, you’d just wear something you’d be comfortable in.

However, you were not prepared for just how warm his apartment was. You came over in a cropped baby tee and some comfy shorts, but you had worn a very thin cardigan over the shirt, hoping it would be thin enough you could keep it on. But alas, the world was constantly against you, and about fifteen minutes into your visit you knew you had to shed the layer. The windows were open but there was no breeze, and the standing fan and ceiling fan were working overtime. 

So here you were, standing in Spencer’s living room, attempting to hide your Guitar Hero skills while also trying to hide your discomfort. Honestly, you weren’t even sure why you were uncomfortable. It’s Spencer. He’s seen you in worse. At least this outfit is cute, right? When you finally pulled yourself out of your thoughts, you realized you were beating Spencer in 1v1 by a country mile. What the hell was he doing? You knew he was good at this game, and despite you purposefully missing every few notes and hitting the whammy bar much too late, he was still way, way behind.

You paused the game and turned to look at him. You had been standing in front of the couch, since it was a little harder to play the guitar when sitting down. He, however, was sitting on the couch in gym shorts he had no right to be wearing (They were so short that if he moved one inch the wrong way there would be a problem. Why did he pick such slutty little shorts??) and a Zelda triforce logo tank top. His arms were on full display, along with his gorgeous legs, and you had to admit your words got caught in your throat when you saw him. You hadn’t really looked at him with much precision when you arrived because you were more focused on how warm the apartment was, but now, seeing him with his leg balanced on his knee and the guitar lazily draped in his lap, you were borderline salivating.

“You okay, Peach?” He always called you that, since you had a penchant for snacking on peaches and preferred to play as Princess Peach whenever the two of you played Mario Party or Mario Kart. He never let it slip at work, but a part of you wanted him to. Just to see how someone else would react to it. Would they hear it as a platonic, long-term-friendship type of nickname, or would they pick up on a subtle romantic vibe beneath that? Was it crazy to want that romantic connotation? 

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay. Are you, though? I’m not very good at this and I’m still beating your ass. You good over there?” You willed your blush away at his nickname for you, knowing he, realistically, didn’t have any romantic implications behind it. You knew why he called you that, and it made sense. Let’s not think too hard on it, okay? No need to make a romantic mountain out of a friend-shaped mole hill.

Spencer sighed, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finding his words. “Yeah, sorry. The heat is kind of making my brain blank out, I guess.” He stood, pulling the string on his ceiling fan to move it from medium to high speed. You were silently wondering why it wasn’t already on high, but chose not to question him. You also knew he was lying. You’ve been friends with Spencer (on top of having severe unrequited feelings for him) for far too long, and you knew him better than he knew himself. You knew all of his tells, and currently, he was avoiding eye contact and picking at his right thumb, which he always did when he was nervous and/or lying.

You sat down next to him, still leaving some space due to the heat. You were both quite physically affectionate with one another, but lately you had both pulled back in that regard, though neither of you wanted to say anything about it. While he had basically stopped being touchy-feely altogether, you still attempted that contact sometimes. He didn’t react the way he used to.

“Spence, honey, I’ve known you far too long for you to lie to my face. What’s going on?” You voiced your concern with a gentle hand on his thigh, close enough to his knee that it didn’t come across wrong, but also far enough away from his knee that you felt a whoosh in your stomach. It was too late to move it now without him calling you on it, though, so you left it there.

He took a deep breath, seemingly gearing up for a word vomit. But instead he shook his head. “Sorry, I’m just dealing with some… personal stuff, I guess, and I was lost in my head. We can get back to it, I’m sorry, Y/N.” He patted your hand with his, before moving to grab the guitar again and start the game back up. You pulled your hand away, burning, and decided you needed to leave. 

“Oh, it’s… it’s okay. I’ll head out, leave you to your thoughts. You can always text me if you need me, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow?” You stood to start gathering your stuff, and you felt Spencer’s eyes on your back as you bent over to pet one of his cats. The cropped tee was definitely showing off more of you than he had seen before, so it was only natural for him to look. But you wondered what he was thinking, too.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sorry again about the AC being broken. Maintenance should be coming by soon,” Spencer supplied, walking with you to the door. “Hopefully I won’t have to sweat to death for much longer.”

You both laughed, and you held your arms out for a hug. Spencer hesitated, before returning the hug and reassuring you that he’ll see you tomorrow. You offered him a goodbye and told him you loved him, like you both did every time you parted. You didn’t miss the fact that he didn’t say it back this time.

//

Angela, please help me. You didn’t know who to talk to about this. Your thoughts had been a bubbling mess for hours at this point, and you couldn’t talk to Spencer, and you weren’t quite ready to talk to Courtney about it. Courtney should be your go-to about this situation, but you weren’t sure how to broach it. Hey, you went from coworkers to friends to lovers. How do I do that? wasn’t exactly the best icebreaker to get into the conversation. Angela had heard you vent many times before, and although you never, ever named Spencer in the conversations, you had no doubt that little Italian gremlin knew you were talking about him. Angela was very intuitive and just because you leave a few details out and refuse to use his name in conversation, that doesn’t mean she can’t pick up on everything else. Especially since Erin was clearly picking up on it. Among others.

What an ominous text to receive at 1am. What’s up babe? 

Holy fuck, was it that late already? You checked the time and sure enough, it was 1:03am. You’d been in your head for far longer than you thought.

Oh fuck I didn’t even realize it was that late lol my bad queen :(( we can hold off till tmr it’s nbd!

NOPE you’re not pulling that shit, ft me rn

You sighed, but it was near impossible to say no to Angela, so you turned your desk lamp on and hit the FaceTime button. You needed to get this out of your system soon anyway, it was starting to eat at you. With other people seeing it clear as day you felt as though you should probably work your feelings out before Spencer realized.

“Hello there my gorgeous best friend, what’s on your mind?” Angela was clearly in bed, face lit only by her phone and the fairy lights she kept strung up around her room. “Is it Spencer?”

Your face went pale at her question, which answered her for you. “Oh, so it is Spencer! Did you ask him out? Did he ask you out? When’s the wedding? Can I sing at the reception? Oh, that might be weird, right? What would I even sing? Oh, I know–”

“Angela.”

“Sorry, go on.”

She let you ramble on for a few minutes, starting from the beginning. When you were hired and instantly bonded with him. When the movie nights turned to movie sleepovers and the game nights turned to game weekends. When he got promoted to cast, then you got promoted, and suddenly your friendship felt different. The first Erin Dougal meme, the second Erin Dougal meme, and finally, whatever the fuck had happened tonight. The way he was distant, but not cold. The way you could feel his eyes on you, and the two times you caught him “lost in his thoughts” as Erin had phrased it. His lack of response when you told him you loved him tonight. That was what hurt the most. He had never left you hanging when you said it, and he said it more often than you did. At lunch, on set, while watching him play Fortnite. You always reassured each other in every aspect of life. And suddenly, it was like that reassurance and friendship was going dormant.

“I just don’t know what I did wrong, I guess? It seems like out of nowhere we lost our friendship and we’re back to being acquaintances, in a way. He’s not as touchy anymore, and he gets weird when I am. He rarely invites me over anymore. I haven’t stayed the night in months. And he didn’t say he loved me before I left tonight. He’s never not said it back. And like, why? What changed? What did I do wrong?” Once your word salad was out and in the open, Angela sat for a minute, thinking on how she wanted to respond.

“Okay, I have a question before we proceed.”

“Ask away.”

“Do you want me to respond as your best friend or as your coworker?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Only slightly.”

“Then as my best friend, please.” You took a breath in, knowing with this selection came some harsh words. If she was responding as your coworker she would be nothing but kind, but with the best friend response you knew she was going to drag you, hard. But at this point, you needed that, didn’t you?

“Y/N, my sunshine, my flower, my angel. He’s pulled back significantly as of late because he thinks that his feelings for you are one-sided.”

“His–”

“Don’t interrupt me, you clown!” 

“Okay!” You laughed along with your friend, knowing that this conversation was going to be hard but it was necessary.

“He sees all these things in a different light because, somewhere in the timeline of your friendship, he got it in his head that you would never reciprocate his feelings. So now, all those things he used to enjoy, almost hurt now. Your touch on his skin is no longer comforting, because he wants more. And he doesn’t think he’s capable of getting that. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to lose you, but he also is having trouble coping with the fact that he doesn’t know if he can ‘just be friends’ with you. Spencer might have held his façade quite well for quite some time, but it’s cracking now and he’s scared. He doesn’t want to lose his best friend, but he also doesn’t want to be strictly friends anymore. He wants to love you openly, and he thinks he can’t do that.”

“Jesus, Angela. How do you even know all this?” You were absorbing her words, letting them flow through you. Spencer thinks his romantic feelings for you are one-sided? Spencer has romantic feelings for you? What the hell is going on, man?

“Because three and a half minutes before you texted me, he also texted me. I was basically reading his text out loud, word-for-word. And before you yell at me for breaking his trust, you are my best friend and I am legally obligated to tell you everything, just like you are legally obligated to tell me everything. Even though you seem to think I can’t parse that the guy you’ve been obsessing and gushing over is Spencer despite your obvious phrasing. You're not as slick as you think, babe.”

You sat in silence for a moment, really trying to let everything sink in. Your feelings weren’t one sided. You had a chance with him. He didn't suddenly dislike you, or hate you, or not enjoy your company. It was just harder now. And that, that you understood, quite thoroughly.

“Ang, how do I unfuck this?”

“I already have a plan for you, Peach.”

You groaned, “Okay, that’s not fair!”

“I know, I know. So here’s what you're going to do…”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

taglist: @lokidokieokie (thanks for being my first ever taglister hehe)

[insert-this-fire]

Overpoweringly Sweet

Logan Howlett aka Wolverine x gn!nonspecified mutant! Reader

Summary: Somehow you contracted Hanahaki for a man you hardly ever spoken to. Cant end well can it?

W/C: ~9k Warnings: a little OOC, angst, graphic description of coughing up flowers with blood.

AO3 Mirror A/N: I never post actual fics on tumblr but I feel that it needs to be done here. So sorry if its kinda formatted weird? it will also be on AO3!. First x-men fic too so sorry if its a bit ooc. Not really based on any specific iteration of Wolverine. Also not edited like, at all. Also I take requests! :3

~~ :3 ~~

You know, having a crush on someone so unattainable is laughable at best. Having a crush on them and apparently somehow contracting Hanahaki is even worse. How does that even happen? You haven’t even spoken to the guy more than a few words. Too embarrassed to open your mouth to introduce yourself and you work together. Yet here you are, petals on the bathroom floor and a constricting feeling in your throat. Your head lying on the back of the stall door. Still heaving from the sudden onslaught of overly sickly floral-scented petals that spilled out.

Gardenias. Pure white and mocking. 

The smell of them made you nauseous. The sight of them even more so. After looking up what they meant. It just made things even worse.

Secret love. How fitting.

It’s a damn crush, and the world decided it was love. Love for a grumpy ass old man with hair that kinda made you think of a cat. Actually, he reminded you of a cat in general. One that you want to rest your face on and fall asleep. Bury your face in those pecs of his. Muscles may look hard, but they do have a bit of squish. By God, does he have muscles. You’ve caught him shirtless a few times. All by accident, of course. You weren’t a pervert. Anytime you think of it, your jaw clenches tight.

Ah, getting off-topic here. Back to the fact that apparently, hanahaki doesn’t care if you’ve ever talked to someone before.

The stall door was cool against your cheek when you turned your head, and it was less gross than hugging the toilet like you wanted to so you could flush the flowers down the drain. It was terrible. The petals surround you, and a single full bloom floats mockingly in the toilet.

You know how to cure it. The moment that the flower petals started to spill from your lips, you desperately looked for what it was. It wasn’t that hard to find, apparently some find it sickeningly romantic. Bet they never had to deal with the ache that was constant around your lungs. You found the cure for it as well. Should be easy to do, right? Tell the person how you feel and they return it, or get it surgically removed. The surgery should be the right choice. It’s the only choice. You’ve hardly spoken to the man who coveted your affection, but the thought of not feeling the tug of your heart when you see him was too much to bear. Which makes no sense! It’s a dumb crush.

God, you’re an idiot.

A deep breath fills your lungs slightly, and the pain wraps around your chest as you try to get a full breath. Your hands find purchase on the rim of the toilet, and you push yourself up. Now, on two shaky legs, you wipe your mouth. You need to clean up the petals before anyone comes in. It was still the middle of the day, and classes were still going. Thank God the coughing fit didn’t hit you till lunch, or you would have to explain to a classroom full of students. That would be embarrassing. Yeah sorry class, your teacher is in love with someone they can’t have, let’s continue with the lesson now! Embarrassing.

Your hands start to pick up the petals. Each one feels as if it was searing into your skin. One, two, five, ten, thirty. Thirty petals and one full bloom. You were screwed. You could go to Hank. See if he knew any other way around it, any way to fix the disgusting flowers that took root in your lungs. Maybe being a mutant changed how to cure the disease? That was just hopeful thinking, though.

After mulling over the choices for a few moments more, you finally unlock the stall door and walk over to the garbage, quickly discarding the petals that did not make it into the toilet.

Your feet then carry you out of the bathroom and, as luck would have it, right into the chest of the one person you did not want to face yet.

Logan.

You were right, though. The muscles on his chest were squishy. God you want to just motorboat him real fast. Would that be weird? Yeah it would be. As quickly as you ran into him, you tried to remove yourself from his personal space. You know the guy wasn’t too fond of touch. You think. You actually… don’t know. Words quickly spill from your mouth as you try to apologize. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t see you.”

Logan just makes some gruff-sounding noise and continues on his way. You could faintly see as he walked away scrunching of his nose. He was probably able to smell the faint floral scent that was clinging to you. It probably wasn’t pleasant. You didn’t like the scent, it probably was a lot stronger on his end.

As you stand in the hallway after the sudden bump into your crush, you place your hand on your chest to calm your beating heart, and you walk in the opposite direction to your classroom. It hurt that he didn’t even say anything back to your apology, but that seemed pretty in character. To you, at least. If you were on friendlier terms, maybe not, but you doubt he even knows your name.

The thought of the surgery resurfaces in your head. Maybe you should get it. Ignore the deep-seated pain in your heart at the thought of losing your feelings for him. However, the repercussions of a botched removal is another reason not to do so. It could remove the feeling of ever being in love again. Would that be so bad though?

You shake your head. You have a class you have to get back to… and a phone call to make.

The day continued on like normal after that. Classes, grading papers, discreetly removing petals from your mouth into the trashcan by your desk as you graded papers. A new norm for you. It did seem that a few students had noticed a slight change in you. In fact, one of them even got you a get well soon card. Sweet, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

If you don’t get better soon, you will probably end up another statistic for the disease. How many people were there that had it and perished as the roots wrapped around the lungs and slowly filled the valves on the heart. Too many, probably. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at that. That’s why you were now sitting in your now empty classroom, making a phone call. You had found a number to a doctor who specializes in the disease. You would get some advice and decide from there what you want to do.

The phone rings, once, twice….

“Hello, this is Dr. Forrest’s office. How may I help you?” How fitting a doctor who knows about Hanahaki has a nature-based last name.

You quickly introduce yourself and ask if you could speak to him or schedule an appointment. Apparently the only way to talk to him is with an appointment. The next one isn’t for a few months. You don’t even know if you’ll last that long. You’ve been keeping track. A full bloom appeared today. A singular full bloom, no steam. The petals were loose so it had to be in the early start of the mid stages. It was taking its time infecting you. It must be due to not seeing Logan all the time.

You do tend to avoid him when you can. The thought of seeing him always makes your cheeks burn. Man was just too hot. It made it seem like you were in love with just his looks! You weren’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be coughing up all these petals. You’re pretty sure it wasn’t just his looks. The flower has a meaning, after all.

Maybe if you avoid Logan, actually stop trying to see if you can see him across the halls. Stop looking for him during dining hours. Just try to ignore him. Though unless he was going to go on one of those sudden long vanishing acts. Well, you doubt that you actually will be able to avoid him enough to live till the next appointment. You really are screwed. Shit.

Running a hand over your face with a groan you lean back in the chair behind your desk. What should you do? The surgery now seemed to be out of the question. So now you either confess and die, or you just die. Which definitely was not the ideal thing to do. You were screwed. Hands down. Your name is on the death warrant the moment the receptionist said months. Maybe you should go to Hank. Dude was a certified genius right? He would know something.

A knock at your door made you jump. Quickly you lift your head and look over to the closed door to your classroom. Could be a student, another faculty member? Whoever it was either needed you or the room.

“Come on in.”

Silence followed and then the door opened up. Your gaze turns to the door, ready to answer whatever questions that are going to follow. Till you hear the tall tale sound of boots, heavy. The sound of jeans rubbing against legs. A jacket rustling slightly from movement. Jeez, why are you suddenly so aware of the sounds?

Your eyes hone in on the man you’ve been thinking about. Logan. Twice. TWICE in one day you’ve seen him up close. See him in your space. He never seeks you out. You never get to see him up close like this more than once or twice a week. It’s like you’re in a fanfiction and someone is pushing the two of you together.

That’s silly though, this was real life.

“Oh, Logan. How can I… help you?” Could you sound any more awkward? You want to bang your head on your desk. Especially with how he was just looking at you. Should you have called him Wolverine? Mr. Howlett?

“You need to let up on that perfume you’re wearing. Can smell it all over the hall.” His face gives away the fact he smells something he doesn’t like. 

Perfume?... Perfume… The flowers. Of course he could smell it. The floral scent has been clinging to you since the first petals slipped from between your lips.

“Oh, heh sorry. I’ll try to use less of it.” You just laugh a bit, still feeling a tad bit uncomfortable, the sudden tickle in your throat reminding you that you could not stop the smell from permeating your skin. That it will linger on you till you no longer have these flowers growing inside of your chest. “If I use too much again I’m sorry. Can’t really tell when I use too much or not.”

Blue eyes narrow at you, you can tell he doesn’t believe you. That he should call you out on it. “Thanks bub, it’s masking everything else.”

With that he left the room as quickly as he came, there was a slight pause and you can tell he glanced at the trash can by your desk. The trash can that had a few petals thrown in haphazardly. Thought to be hidden by the papers that you threw on top. You hope that is all he sees.

That was such an awkward interaction. You slam your head on the desk once more. God why are you such an idiot.

~~ :3c ~~

Time continues on like normal, but recently you catch Logan at the corner of your eye. Which is normal, you usually do seek him out. Yet now it’s like he is everywhere you go. Walking in the gardens, he’s out there smoking one of his cigars leaning on a tree or the wall of the mansion. You’d be eating and you’d see him a table or two away, his eyes on you. You can feel them boring into your skin. You’ll be walking in the hallways and see him turning a corner before you fully spot him. More often than not you find him outside of the bathroom you were just in after coughing up a storm. Just standing by the door like a guard dog. Always scrunching his nose when the door opens and the aroma of flowers follows you out.

He knew. He had to. He had to know something was wrong with you. There is no way he doesn’t. The man has been alive long enough that he probably knows the signs of what you have. The disease that is currently ruining your life. He has probably seen all sorts of people who have had Hanahaki. You won’t be the first, nor the last person he has seen inflicted with it either. It’s probably why he’s keeping an eye on you. He must have found out when he came to ask you to stop using so much perfume and yet you still smell that sickeningly floral smell on you.

Unless you’re just suddenly more aware of him than you were before. Which you shouldn’t be. You were already highly aware of him due to your damn dumb crush that’s killing you. Eyes are always lingering on him.

It’s probably because of the scent that’s following you around. It is probably sticking out more than your usual scent, which was. You don’t know. What do you normally smell like? Apparently, it’s something non-distinct since the new smell is pretty overpowering. If you can smell it, it must be strong.

You wish you knew what was going through the man’s head. You couldn’t really ask him. You aren’t close to him like that. Can’t ask the people he is close to either because you aren’t close to them. You kinda just, are here in the mansion teaching. You’re not a part of x-men, you aren’t too interested in fighting anyways. You earned your keep teaching. You are vaguely close to Hank though. Well, in recent events at least. You could ask him?

Yeah, no, you aren’t. You’re going to suffer through this. You can handle it. You don’t need to know what’s going on in his mind.

Which reminds you, you need to actually go talk to Hank. You’ve been putting it off, but the full blooms are startling. Every other coughing fit brings one full bloom. It has only been a week since the first bloom and with the sudden influx of Logan sightings, it is speeding up. You needed an out and fast. Before it kills you.

Thus here you are walking through the mansion to head down to his lab. Quickly avoiding anyone you see. The scent of flowers following you through the halls like a wraith. Leaving a trail of sweetness to waft into the air. Disgusting.

As you make your way into the lab you spot Hank, or Beast? Shit, you don’t even know which one he prefers to be called. You really should ask, huh. Anyway, you spot him.

When the blue-furred man spots you, he quickly greets you with your name: “It is good to see you this fine evening. What do I owe the pleasure? It is not often I see you down here.”

If you could, you would sigh deeply. The rattling of vines stops the motion before it begins. “Hi yeah uh. I got into a delicate situation and I don’t know who else to go to? The doctor I had called can’t really see me and I don’t know what else to do and you’re like… The smartest person I know so I’m hoping… you could help?” The words spill out quickly.

Hank raises an eyebrow and fixes the glasses perched on his face. The man was upside down for some odd reason, and he quickly flipped to land on the ground. With grace you don’t expect for someone his size. Then again, you’ve seen some weird ass mutations. He motions for you to sit down on one of the beds stationed in the lab. One used when needed for situations like this. Medical, scientific, not something you can throw a punch at and fix.

After sitting down on the bed, you start to explain. Words flowing like a waterfall. He is the first person you have gone into detail about your condition. How the petals slip from your lips like a poison, the tightening of your chest with each breath. The fear of losing yourself to unrequited love and dying because of it. You do not mention who it is directed at nor the fact you thought it was a crush and did not deserve to have evolved into such a disease.

The room fell silent after your reveal, a silence that stretched on longer than you would have liked. God, you hope he has an idea about how to help you out of this mess.

“From my knowledge there are only two cures. I assume you already know.” A pause as you answer with a curt nod. “I do not believe there are any other alternatives other than what has been proven to work. I assume that you are here to find out if there are any or that you require the surgery.”

“I can’t tell them… I really had hoped that you would know. I don’t.” You sigh and run a hand through your hair, messing it up slightly. It was already a mess from earlier, but you know how hands are in hair. “It’s not an option to tell them.”

“I see. It will take some time, but I will see if I can learn the correct procedure so that there will be minimal to no complications.” Hank pats you on the shoulder and motions for you to head out. He had some things to do and research to go over. Escorting you out of his lab so Hank may do what is necessary. He didn’t give a timeline, but you trust that he can do it before your time is up.

You really hope that he can do this.

After leaving the lab, you had to pass some of the other faculty. Or X-men? Yeah, it seems they are setting off on a mission of some sort. You pass Cyclops, Storm, Jean and. Yeah, that is exactly who you don’t want to see right now. Logan. Seems he is going with them. To, wherever they have to go. You give them all a small nod in acknowledgment as you pass them. Each one provides you a small smile or nods back.

Logan though? He pauses when you pass him. His face contorted into something you weren’t too sure of. He probably caught another whiff of the flowers on you. Great. The others give him a look and he just grunts at them. Somehow they understand and continue on their way. Leaving you with Logan.

A hand grabs your bicep, fingers wrapping around the muscle. Your gaze drops to the hand, in another life you were sure it would be rough with use, but it was surprisingly soft. The grip was not, natural strength hidden behind the hold. A promise that you would not be able to pull away without exerting yourself.

“You’re smellin’ worse. Thought I told you to let up.” A gruff voice, oh how you want to roll in that voice. That was a weird thought, you should probably stop thinking of that like a weirdo. God are you a weirdo?

An awkward laugh bubbles up from your chest. You can feel your own muscles tense under his hold and gaze. Damn he’s never looked at you like this before. A slight glare, crinckled nose, and a slight snarl on his lips. You must be really weird because damn was that kind of a hot look. Which somehow in turn makes your chest tighten and the tickle of a cough is trying to break free. You swallow hard to bite it back. Yet you can feel the petals moving through your throat. 

“Sorry sorry, I guess I overdid it?” You pull your eyes away from his. Unable to continue to look at his face. Be it from your weird thoughts, the tickle in your throat or your inability to keep eye contact with someone. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“You’re hiding that you're sick.” The grip on your arm tightens. Not in a painful manner no, but a reminder that you cannot run away from this conversation. Which is odd right? Why does Logan care? You two hardly know each other. Sure you apparently love the man, but you’re still sure he doesn’t even know your name. You’ve seen him care for others in the mansion, a good friend in an odd way. A father figure and mentor to some of the students. Also in a weird way. You’re sure he’d brush off that idea and say he isn’t. He is.

Wait, he just said you’re sick… “I’m not sick?” 

Logan's eyes narrow as he stares at you. Do you look sick? Sure you’ve gotten a little pale and eating has gotten a little hard so you haven’t been eating as much as you usually do. Does being sick have a smell to it? Fuck that is weird. Well, some animals could tell when others are sick before physical symptoms show. Maybe that's how he knew. No, that wouldn’t make sense because you aren’t really sick. You just have a big fat crush that's killing you. 

You can tell Logan doesn’t believe you. “Just fix it. Can’t stand the smell on you.” His hand lets go and he stalks down the hallway to where the others had walked off to. Your eyes linger on his form as he walks away. The ghost of a feeling on your arm where his hand had wrapped around it. The slight warmth seeping into your skin slowly vanishes. God you’re fucked. 

~~ >:3 ~~

And fucked you are. It’s been at least two months since you told Hank about the hanahaki. Hank is taking his sweet ass time researching the procedure, the doctor you called has called back finally and mentioned that his next opening for a consultation was still months away. Which you decide to say fuck that guy, you trust Hank can do it. The doctor probably won’t even work on a mutant. Logan is still always at the corner of your eye. A scowl or sneer on his face anytime he looks at you. Not to mention the flowers! They’re getting worse.

Full blooms, multiple at a time. Their petals no longer loose around the center. Now they are tightly packed, fully bloomed and speckled with blood as they escape through your throat. Occasionally there would be a flower that had not bloomed yet. Still wrapped tightly, not fully formed. You weren’t sure what that meant, but you’re sure it wasn’t good. At least they were not roses. You feel bad for those who dealt with that. Thorns were something you were happy that was not in the mix of your own flower hell.

The flowers aren’t fully developed yet. Stems have not fallen with them. Yet you are unsure if you would survive long enough to see the end stages of hanahaki. Your body is getting weaker and weaker each day. Your own mutation even fighting against you. You can hardly call on it now. Once you had wished to be a normal person, but that has been years ago. Now you feel like you are losing a part of yourself. These damn flowers truly are killing you. Both physically and emotionally. 

You had to leave class more often. The coughs that tore through your chest made it unbearable to speak long enough to teach an entire class to its completion. Students start to worry, other faculty seem to notice the sudden change as you have to start asking for people to cover your class for you as you rush to the restroom to hug the porcelain throne to exude the flowers of love. Each time more and more petals fall from your lips, tears stain your cheeks more often due to the pain and energy it takes to clear them out from your throat. 

It has gotten to the point where you had to ask someone to cover your class in full, or cancel it. You don’t want to cancel your classes, but at the rate you are going it will be the only thing you can do. Today is probably the last full class you can handle, you feel like shit. Your throat itches, your stomach aches from the lack of food. Your head hurts because of the lack of sleep from the coughing. Yeah, you might have to take a break from it all. What surprises you is that Logan is waiting outside of your classroom.

Ok it’s not that surprising. You’ve been catching him outside your classroom since he came back. It is like he is suddenly more aware of you. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes on you. You would be excited usually, your crush suddenly paying attention to you! How great is that? Yet lately it just makes things feel so much worse. Especially with that sneer on his face. You know he knows something is up, he made it clear two months ago. Though he hasn’t brought it up again. Yet he is always there. Like a shadow. 

Which is honestly a bit uncomfortable. You aren’t used to this amount of attention. 

“You don’t have to stand out here you know?” Papers you needed to grade were in your arms. You may need to take a break, but you should at least grade these papers before someone takes the class over. Your last bit of work. 

Logan just stares at you. The slight glare, the wrinkled nose, the arms crossing making those muscles bulge out of his shirt. You had to quickly drag your eyes away from his arms so you aren’t caught staring. You don’t meet his eyes though. It was too intense. 

“You’re getting worse.” Way to point out the obvious Logan.

“Good observation.” A short pause follows after. Silence falls for a few moments. “I uh, it’s why I’m takin a break. Sick leave? Uh… Yeah…” You really don’t know how to talk to him. The tickle in your throat is back again. Too soon, you just hacked up half your lung just moments before. You really don’t want to cough in front of him. You thought he might already know what it is, but he still thinks the smell on you is perfume. So no way do you want him to know the truth. 

Logan stares at you a few moments longer, a slight grunt. His head motioned for you to follow him. That’s how you read it at least as he starts to walk down the corridor and only pauses to look at you. Looks like you’re following him. This can’t end well can it? 

The two of you walk silently through the corridors. Your arms are still full of papers, but it seems the two of you are heading out into the garden. Probably for the best, the crisp air outside will dull the floral scent. Hopefully at least. Even if it lingers on your skin and it has gotten to the point others have even started to point it out. The halls were mostly empty though at this time. Most students are already off doing their own thing, you can vaguely hear a laughter from down the hall as the two of you finally make your way outside.

Into the garden, the cool air bites at your exposed arms. You should have worn a jacket. Too late for that now it seems. The trees are already turning orange, autumn making its way across the land. Oranges, reds and browns. If you weren’t full of anxiety you would be enjoying the sights. Especially as Logan brings you over to a small bench by the man-made pond. A bit away from everyone, but still close enough to the mansion you can dash inside if needed. 

You take a seat first. The papers sit beside you. Logan stands in front of you. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He isn’t sitting. Why isn’t he sitting?

“So uh…” Your voice comes out first, awkward and a bit unsure. The tickle in your throat grows again as you fight it back.

“It’s not perfume on you is it?” Logan’s gaze never leaves yours, but you can’t help but look away. Too uncomfortable with the eyes boring into you. You never once used perfume, though you did use that as an excuse didn’t you?

Silence followed after. Your eyes looking at the ground as you kick your legs back and forth. Unable to voice the truth. Logan is still looking at you, jaw clenching most likely. You don’t have to look at him to know.

His voice finally cuts through the silence. Apparently he was sick of you beating around the bush and not answering him. Your name on his lips startling you slightly. You honestly thought he didn’t know your name, but it seems you were wrong. “What's makin you so sick that it’s leaving you to look like that and smell like that.”

You should tell him. Tell him. TELL HIM. 

… 

You’ll tell him without actually telling him. You don’t think you’d survive telling him the full truth. You’re a pretty good liar most of the time. He might be able to pick through the lie but he’s not that perceptive right? 

“I uh… It’s.” You feel like you’re stumbling over your words, your throat constricting. “I have.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence. Your muscles tensing as a cough tears through you. Violently. Your body lurching forward as your hand shoots up to cover your lips as the cough pulls out petals and blossoms alike. Your hand can’t catch all the petals as they spill to the ground. Your eyes clenching shut as tears prickle the corners due to how painful it was. The other hand not covering your mouth grabs at your chest. As if you could claw the roots out through your skin. It burns. 

It burns, it burns, it burns. 

It won’t stop. You can’t stop hacking up the petals. Each cough brings out a sob with it as well. It has never been this bad. The scent of gardenias explodes. It burns your nose. You hate the smell of it. If you survive you’ll never be able to handle this scent again. Your body retching forward as you double over. Body crumpling in on itself as you try desperately to get some air into your already filled lungs. You would think having plants living in your lungs would give you more oxygen. If only it didn’t wrap tightly around your lungs and neighboring organs. Leaving little space for what you truly needed.

You almost forget Logan is there with you. An unexpected presence sits beside you. Warmth seeping into your side. He doesn’t set a comforting hand on your back. Doesn’t say any words. But him sitting beside you is enough comfort. You don’t think you could handle physical touch anyways. Your body would probably jerk harder at it. Hanahaki really was a killing disease wasn’t it. It was going to kill you before even getting to the final stage. You can’t do this.

Slowly the coughing fit lessens. The petals and blooms spilling from your mouth as if it was all you breathed came to a stop. Your body still hunched over, tears filling your eyes as you finally, finally stopped coughing up the damned flowers. You were still shaking, trying to catch the lost breath.

“You’re ok sweetheart. Just try and breathe.” Something large, heavy, warm rests on your upper back. Small soothing circles. He called you sweetheart, that was strange. You don’t expect comfort. You don’t think Logan expected to comfort you like this either. It was an awkward movement, but comforting. You wanted to lean into it, lean into him. You weren’t going to though. Pain was radiating through your chest and you weren’t sure you would be able to sit up straight without coughing again. Fear that any movement will bring on another coughing fit settled inside of you like a vice. You can still feel the slight tickle in your raw throat. 

You taste blood.

It takes a few tries, gasping tries, before air finally was able to fill your lungs enough that you could breathe properly. Or well, as well as you can with roots wrapping around your insides. You pull out a few petals that were still stuck in your mouth and let them fall to the ground as you slowly sit up. Still slightly hunched over but no longer practically hugging your legs. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, blood from your lips smearing across your skin. Eyes on the ground where the mess you made mocks you. There's so much, white and red. White flowers that you would have thought beautiful covered in splotches of your own blood. Tainting the gardenias, tainting the meaning of secret love. Disgusting. You’re disgusting. 

Your eyes linger on the ground as you finally speak. Voice raspy and strained. “Sorry.” 

“Nothin to be sorry about, nasty thing you got. Seen it a few times.” Logan’s voice is gruff, yet there is a touch of something tender in there. Unexpected. You don’t like it. He shouldn’t be treating you like this. He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know that you’re like this because of him, because of your dumb crush on him that the world decided was good enough to practically kill you.  

Ok that’s not true. You know under his rough and tough demeanor and the huge, insensitive ass he could be. He’s caring and trustworthy. Loyal as fuck and self-sacrificing. It’s what had drawn you in in the first place. The soft look he’d give to people he cared about when no one was looking. The way he treats the younger mutants. It was heartwarming. Your admiration for him turned from simply looking up to him to wanting him to look at you that way.

Silence falls between the two of you again as you continue to try to take in oxygen. The taste of iron and earth is still on your tongue. The sound of fellow mutants distantly chatting and the occasional bird cuts through the silence. You don’t want to talk, you don’t want to tell him who your affliction derives from. You doubt he would ask, but he might. You’ll need to think of an excuse. A lie. Anything to keep him from finding out it is him. He’d reject you. You know this already. You’ve seen him look at others. He doesn’t look at you like that. You just learned he knew your name too! The two of you hardly spoke before. This is the most attention you have ever gotten from him. He doesn’t love you the way the disease needs him to. 

“Who's the asshole?” His words cut through the silence again. Surprising you once more. This definitely is the most words he has ever spoken to you.

“Doesn’t matter… He doesn’t feel the same.” Your throat continued to feel raw. It hurt to speak, but you needed to answer. You couldn’t stay quiet when he asked. Your gaze moves from the ground to glance at him from the side. You try not to meet his eyes but you can see a look on his face that had never been directed towards you. In any other situation you would be happy, ecstatic. Right now though, it makes your stomach tie up in uncomfortable knots. 

A slight hint of anger crosses Logan’s face and his hand just rests on your back, no longer rubbing those soothing circles. You know he wants to know. The look he has on him makes you think he sees you as someone under his protection, it’s nice. Even if it is not really what you want at the moment.

“So you’re willing to die for him.” There was a short pause between his words. His tone is soft, you don’t like it. “Seen most with it die that way. Shouldn’t have to die like that.”

You decide not to reply to the fact that you were willing to die for these feelings. Why? Because you still don’t want to believe it is true. Even with the flowers clearly showing signs the crush was love. Infatuation. You hate this. “Dr. Mccoy is going to perform the surgery for me. Should be any day now.”

You at least hope it will be any day now. You spoke to him a couple days ago and he seemed a bit all over the place so you couldn’t ask him if he was ready yet. You know he hadn’t forgotten, you saw the books laying on one of the tables next to some tools, but time was ticking and it was ticking fast. You know it and now… Now Logan knows it too. You’re on limited time. 

“I… can’t tell him. He doesn’t feel the same, he can’t. I’ll die if I tell him. I have to do the surgery. I’d rather chance not feeling love again than to confess and die. I…” Your hands curl into themselves as you look back down at the flowers. The tightening in your chest squeezes harder. You don’t need to explain yourself, but you feel like you have to. This way you can come to terms with it. Speaking it out loud makes it all too real. “I trust Dr.Mccoy. He won’t fail. He… he can’t.”

“Lotta trust in the guy.” Logan leans back on the bench, his hand lingering on your back removes itself as he crosses his arms. You feel the itch in your throat again, it’s too soon for more petals. You at least hope so. Logan then continues, “Remember watching someone choke on their own blood cause of that shit. Don’t want to see you on that end sweetheart.”

Logan called you sweetheart, again. It made butterflies fly around your stomach, churning with the anxiety already there. It was not the most comfortable of feelings. You weren’t expecting it this time either. It was nice. Would be nicer in better circumstances though. “Thanks Logan, but I’ll survive this. I have to…”

“Still think you should tell me who this asshole is. Could talk to him.” You hear the familiar snikt sound, a clear sign he extended his claws. A glance over was all you needed to confirm he did, the light gleaming off the metal. 

“God no! Sure actions speak louder than words for him, but it wont help.” Because he’d be threatening himself. You couldn’t help but let a pathetic laugh bubble up. Pain radiating through your chest and throat as you do so. At least you can still find some humor in this. Logan’s claws go right back under his skin and between his knuckles at your words. Though you can tell he still seemed interested in using violence against who is causing this for you. God, you wish you could tell him.

The two of you fall into another silence. Your own thoughts are swirling through your head and you’re sure Logan is also dealing with his own thoughts. Your disease is now out there. What truly ales you has been revealed without you actually saying the words. You wished you could have said the words, said what it was, told him your feelings. Though things never work out that way do they. 

You aren’t sure how this was going to end.

Logan looks at you the same time you gaze at him. Your eyes meet his blue ones. You would wax poetic about his eyes, but that seems pretty cliche. Everyone always does when talking about blue eyes, how they look like the ocean, or the sky. Logan’s reminds you of steel, the silvery blue that almost matches the adamantium claws you see on occasion. There is something in those eyes though, something you can’t read. Something behind that wall everyone knows he puts up. You want to dig deeper, fall into those eyes to avoid all your problems. Be free of the pain you can’t escape. The two of you seem to just stare at each other far longer than it felt. 

“Tell me when you get the surgery. I want to be there.” 

“...Okay.”

And just like that, the two of you break eye contact and fall into a silence. A silence only broken by the occasional cough from you and the sounds of nature and other mutants about. You wish you could have experienced this sooner. Before your world decided to crash down on you. You’ll just have to enjoy the time with him like this while you can. Before the feelings you have for him are forever torn away. Leaving only a hollow space in your chest for the fellow mutant. 

You’re not ready. 

~~ :3 !! ~~

Hank Mccoy finally let you know he was ready to do the surgery a few days after your chat with Logan. You weren’t ready for it. You didn’t want to lose these feelings, you didn’t want the complications that may follow, but fuck you don’t want to die either. You will die if you don’t do this surgery. You can’t… You have to do this. 

Which is why you are outside of the room Logan usually occupies when he is in the mansion. You've been standing outside of his room for what felt like hours now. You knew he probably could hear your heartbeat, but he isn’t coming out. He asked to be there when you got the surgery. He wanted to support you for some reason. You could just go, leave and get the surgery without telling him. Your anxiety welling up along with the urge to throw up. Your hand is already raised before you could stop yourself and you knock three times.

Silence follows after. The sound of shuffling and the door opens. Logan standing there in one of those slutty little white tank tops and jeans. A classic look that was all too hot in your opinion. Your mouth feels dry as he looks at you.

“I’m getting it now.” You rub your arm, unable to look him in the eyes. You do look at his face though. Just long enough to see shock cross his face for a few seconds, which quickly vanished back behind his usual look. Logan steps out of his room and shuts the door, head tilting to the side a bit as he waits for you to start walking to Hank’s lab. 

The two of you walk silently through the halls. It was late in the afternoon. You could have gotten it earlier in the day but your body was so exhausted from the coughing fit you had that night that you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed. In fact you’re still in your pajamas mostly. Sweatpants and a t-shirt. Comfy. You’re going into surgery, you deserve not to dress up for it. Logan doesn’t comment on it either so it’s fine. You’re fine. 

Everything is fine.

The two of you enter the lab quietly. No one else seems to be here but Hank. After all, one else knew. People knew you were sick of course, but you kept a tight lip on what exactly was inflicting you.

Hank greets you with your name. A look of surprise as his eyes drop onto Logan. Quickly he glanced back at you and you just shrugged your shoulders slightly. Letting Hank know the situation. How Logan knew what was wrong with you and wanted to be here with you. Moral support from the emotionally constipated x-men. Well, mostly constipated. 

After going over the procedures and what needed to be done you step behind the curtains, changing into one of those flimsy hospital gowns. The cool air nipping at your skin as you bite your bottom lip. You were scared. You didn’t want this. You couldn’t do this. You can’t do this! You don’t want to lose your feelings for Logan. He just now is starting to show you attention. It’s not fair! You shouldn’t have to deal with this! You can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t. 

“Are you okay?” Hank's voice cuts through your spiral. Eyes watering and your chest heaving. Ohm you were crying. No, you were sobbing again. Your hands are shaking at your side. You glance at the curtain that hid you from the other two. You know they heard you crying, heard you falling apart. How embarrassing. Your hand grips at the gown, bunching it up at your chest as you take a shaky breath. Lungs barely able to hold a full inhale. 

“Yeah… Yeah sorry. I’m ok. I’m ready.” You step out from behind the curtain. Clear concern was on the blue mutant's face. You can’t read the others. You don’t like this. You silently pad over to the table, bed, whatever it is, that is set up for you. Another strained breathe and you sit on the surface. A glance at the two of them and you lay back. You’re surprised the professor wasn’t here to help out. Maybe he wasn’t needed. Hank could handle this on his own. You can handle this. Logan was here, you didn’t want him here, but it was a strange comfort knowing the man you loved was here to support you. Even if said surgery would remove all feelings for him. How poetic. 

You stare at the ceiling, unsure of what to do as Hank moves around you. Logan who had been leaning on the wall walks over and takes your hand in his. Holding it as if you would shatter at the softest of touches. You hate it. 

“Offer still stands darlin’. Can make the guy love you back.” Although the words would work well in a teasing tone. There was a hint of seriousness behind it. Like he didn’t want you to go under. To have the gardenias removed from your chest. Your hand squeezes his weakly. You knew you didn’t have much time left. You had to do this or confess. Only one of those was an actual option.

Hank returns and holds up the mask. You lift your head up as he slides it over your mouth and nose. It’s too late. You can feel the tears threatening to fall again. You’re scared. Your grip on Logan’s hand tightens as Hank moves around you, making sure you’re hooked up correctly. Your vision starts to blur slightly. You try to inhale the gas as deeply as you could, it hurt. Your lungs didn’t want to fill, you think you can feel the roots wiggling deeper through your lungs and closer to your heart. Your eyes are on Logan, fear clearly radiating off of you. Your own eyes showing the anxiety inside of you. Logan just stands strong next to you. Like a silent guard. 

As the world starts to blacken around you, the corners of the room vanishing slowly. You couldn’t help yourself. You were getting the surgery. You can say the words now. It won’t matter. Your head was already floating and consciousness was fading. Eyes focusing on Logan, like a tunnel. All you could see was him as the world around you slowly vanished into nothingness.   Three words slipped out of you without much thought.

“I love you.” 

The world shifts and the world goes dark. 

The quiet beeping echos. A steady rhythm that matches the slight pounding in your head. Your eyes slowly open, only to quickly shut again. The lights were a bit too bright and everything was… Numb. Your mouth feels dry and you physically can’t feel anything. Did the surgery go wrong? Why can’t you feel anything? A groan bubbles up from your throat as you force your eyes to open. That’s when you feel it.

You can feel every muscle, every fiber of the blanket covering you. The heaviness in your chest is gone. You take a breath. You can… You can take a breath. Your lungs are fully filled with oxygen. Chest rising higher than it has in months. You can breathe. Your eyes open again, the bright fluorescent lights above you illuminate the room. You tilt your head away from looking up at the ceiling. Eyes moving around the room. Gaze falling on the little monitor you’re hooked up to. The beeping was your heartbeat. Ok. That looked good. 

Your head turns the other direction as you take in another sweet deep breath. Eyes landing on Logan. He was still here, sitting beside your bed, head lolled to the side clearly asleep. Your chest tightens in the familiar feeling you have been dealing with for months. That can’t be right. You shouldn’t still be feeling this longing. You shouldn’t still be feeling the warmth that spreads through you over the fact that he had stayed. You shouldn’t be feeling the soft tug on your heart as you look at him or the soft smile pulling on your lips.

This was wrong. Something was wrong. You raise the arm that wasn’t hooked up to all the devices and set it on your chest. There was pain there, raw and uncomfortable, but there was no bump on your chest to show there was a bandage, no pain pulling at your skin. The pain you felt was all under your skin. This isn’t right, something is wrong. Your chest felt clear but you have no evidence that you underwent the surgery. You force yourself to sit up. Pain shoots down your spine. You groaned in pain and a hand was suddenly pressing down on your shoulder. Forcing you back onto the bed. Logan had gotten up.

“Logan?” Your voice was scratchy. It felt just like the times you coughed up all those flowers when he found out. “What… What’s going on? Why do I…” 

“Yeah it’s me. Lay back down. Can’t have you moving around too much yet.” Logan’s hand was still on your shoulder, a gentle pressure making you lay back down onto the bed. Your eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the look he is giving you. You can’t read him. “Don’t talk too much either. Hank said you got to heal.”

Yet you’re pretty sure you didn’t get the surgery though! You should be dead. You… You told Logan how you felt. How you still feel. Yet the urge to cough is gone. Your chest feeling lighter than it has since before the disease took its hold on your life. That has to mean something. Something happened when you went under. What happened? Why won’t he tell you? Why is he looking at you like that? 

Logan’s hand finally pulled away from your shoulder. He just stares down at you as you stare at him. Silence falls between you two. His hand then slowly moves again. Your eyes darting down to the hand. Slowly his hand goes to push some hair out of your face. The same look he has been giving you for the past few months crosses his face. You still don’t know what it means, but it is making your stomach flip. 

“Glad you didn’t die for a guy like me. World be a lot darker without you in it.” His hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. His hand was soft and warm. The touch a bit too tender for someone like him.

Wait. Wait wait wait. He heard you. He heard what you said before going under. You didn’t go through the surgery yet your chest feels lighter than it should. That could only mean one thing. Your eyes go wide in surprise and your lips part as you go to speak. Pain still itching at your throat.

“You heard me…” Of course he heard you! He was right next to you holding your hand. He has enhanced senses. He heard you confess. He heard you say you loved him. You’re still alive, you still feel for him and you confessed! That has to mean. Your face suddenly lights up. Heat pooling both on your cheeks and in your stomach. There is only one explanation. There is only one way you were able to live and still feel this way. Logan loved you back. That doesn’t make sense though! Before you started smelling like flowers the two of you never spoke to one another. Yet he…

He loved you back.

“Yeah, I did. Could have told me sooner to save you the pain. Told ya I’d make sure the guy felt the same.” His hand leaves your face. He turns to grab the chair he had been sitting in before and pulls it over. The chair legs screeching across the floor making you flinch at the noise. Once the chair was next to you he sat down and took your hand in his again. Once more treating you like glass. Though you appreciate it, you feel like glass right now. 

Logan lifts your hand up to his face, blue eyes staring straight into your own as his lips find your knuckles. Leaving a soft kiss. You were already blushing before, but you swear you feel like you’re on fire. His lips brushing against your knuckles as he speaks once more. You really aren’t used to hearing him speak so much. “Looks like we got a lot to talk about sweetheart.”

You just silently nod, unable to break your gaze from his. Your hand is lowered, your heart beating out of your chest. You are sure he can hear it. You lick your lips, unable to speak a word out of fear you’ll embarrass yourself further. Logan just chuckles slightly, a deep reverberating one. 

“Guess I should say it, not really good with the emotions shit, but I love you too.”

A few blinks and then a small laugh comes out of you. A wince follows after, but the biggest grin spreads on your face. All it took was you almost dying to finally hear those three little words. You’ll never look at gardenias the same again, nor will you be able to stand the sickly sweet smell of a strong floral scent. That doesn’t matter to you though. You obtained something you thought was unattainable. The love of the man you were in love with. The secret love no longer hidden. 

You can now understand the look Logan was giving you. It was the same you had been giving him. You both were in love with each other but were unsure how to go about it. All it took was the flowers that no longer were growing inside of you. 

You finally say the words, more confident than when you went under. “I love you.” 

“Love you too sweetheart.” 

[blu3n]

(.taking care of your mind.)

# Cw : Jason p. Todd × reader angst. Fluff

# wc : ( I really didn't count it must be over a thousand words.)

# An : I studied this problem, I lived with someone like this and I say that you are not prepared to go through this.

Reactions - Circumstances that bring back memories of the trauma may trigger physiological symptoms, including sweating, nausea, and tremors. Avoidance behavior - avoiding places, people, and activities that bring back painful memories. The person may also be unable to remember or talk about the event.

note: image is not mine

good reading!

As a consequence of having parents who neglected him for most of his life, he never received what we had (the love of his parents), the kind of love that a person needs, the kind of love that makes you feel safe and protected.

At the same time, parents play a fundamental role in their children's lives as guides, teaching them how to behave in society. Teaching values, such as treating their family well and being empathetic individuals.

Undoubtedly, when the most important person in your life is not present, do you feel lost? Or does your own mother sell her own fruit of love and care to a villain who is ready to torture you for money?

Perhaps most of his trauma came from his parents, having to fend for himself since childhood and becoming a delinquent. What would have happened to him if he had learned to steal and had never known Batman?.

The consequences of his past led to PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), and Jason urgently needed to escape that reality, where every second, the memories tormented him, making him feel again in his skin the pain of each stab, the force of each blow, each laugh, each mockery.

"Shut up, shut up," he cried out to his own inner demons, begging them to spare him from so much pain and misery that he heard and felt every night. his sobs were cut off in his throat, the poor sight of his mother selling him like he was something to be traded hurting more and more. "Please, no", her sobs cut through the night.

Today was the hardest day. You felt nothing but the cold, dark bed beside you. You run your hands over your face, tired, getting out of bed, knowing it could have been that day.

Getting out of bed, Catalina looks around the room.

"Jason." Her voice was soft, gentle as a feather; she needed this.

He was having another post-traumatic stress disorder episode, an anxiety attack.

His eyes trembled in front of all that scene; it seemed like he was going through mental torture. Huddled in a corner, you could observe his involuntary shakes.

Jason was huddled in a corner of the room, his legs pulled against his chest and his arms wrapped around himself. His head rested on his knees as involuntary shakes coursed through his body, as if he were fighting against inner demons.

His breathing was rapid and shallow, as if he were constantly holding his breath. His eyes were open, but they seemed to look through you, as if they were trapped in a personal nightmare.

You had no idea what to do, you were afraid to get closer and he would end up making things worse. You were afraid not to get closer and he would think you didn't love him anymore. But you knew one thing: you HAD to get him out of his panic state. How? You didn't know.

you had a mental map of how to act with him, Googling so you can help your boyfriend.

1. (Keep calm) : Your calmness can help the person feel more secure. Try to speak in a soft, encouraging tone of voice.

2. Provide a safe space : Ask him if he would like to move to a quieter or more comfortable place where he can feel safer..

3. ( Listen actively) : If the person wants to talk, listen without judging. Sometimes just having someone to vent to can be a huge relief.

5. (Use grounding techniques ): Help her reconnect with the present. You might suggest that she take deep breaths, count objects around her, or describe what she sees and hears.

6. ( Avoid pressing) : Don’t force the person to talk or face their emotions right away. Give them space and time to process what they’re feeling.

8. ( Take care of yourself ) : Dealing with someone in crisis can be emotionally draining. Don't forget to take care of your own mental health too.

Even knowing this, the care would still be more delicate when taken in action, you wouldn't be prepared for when Jason exploded, you have no idea what it's like to live with a person with this trauma.

but with patience and effort, damn, you did all that? you won Jason over, seeing that you were there to help him even when he was at his worst he would try to improve even though it wasn't his fault.

I believe Jason would cry on your shoulder when he spent this episode lamenting how much of a burden he was to you. But you would be patient, patient, and patient and explain everything to him again as many times as necessary to make it clear that it was your choice to be there with him, loving him and protecting him from his own nightmares.

#blu3n

The end.

[catboygretzky]

Do I even want to know what happened in the last 24 hours 😭 I'm almost afraid to ask but I'm also insanely curious

You probably don't want to know but I'll tell you because you have no choice. This will be long and...awful. But there are sources so that's fun! Please keep in mind that this was all released within 24 hours on Thursday, September 20th, 2024 and that, unfortunately, I haven't mentioned everything.

But! The GOP was certainly having a wild one yesterday.

To start things off:

The first 'Big News' to break was about Mark Robinson.

For those saying 'who the fuck is Mark Robinson', he's the current (R) Lt. Gov of North Carolina that is running for Gov. Before yesterday, he was best known for openly hating LGBT+ and Jewish folks, being a Holocaust denier, being (forcefully) anti abortion, saying it was better when women couldn't vote, anti immigrant, hating the civil rights movement, etc, just being a hateful Evangelical nasty fascist. MAGA to his core. Trump has endorsed him, saying he should be cherished and calling him "MLK on steroids". (Robinson is Black).

So, yeah, that's bad enough right? Yesterday it got even worse. CNN released a report about some comments he made on a porn site forum 12 years ago, the most prominent being 'i'm a black NAZI'. He also commented that he wished slavery was legal and that he'd own a few, and called himself a 'perv' that used to 'peep' on women in public locker rooms when he was a teenager.

Also the tale as old as time that I'm sure you could guess when I mentioned 'GOP' 'loudly transphobic' and 'porn site scandal' - trans porn was a favourite of his. Because of course.

Also of course - the GOP hasn't taken him off the ticket, and he will continue to be the nominee for governor in North Carolina!

Read the article, there's more about him and the situation in general. Mind the warnings.

-

Now on to our favourite worm brained bear eating anti vaxxer conspiracy theorist, Robert F. Kennedy Junior! I'm putting this under a read more now.

The first thing to drop about him yesterday was the news of an investigation after he allegedly cut off the head of a dead whale and took it home 20 years ago. Now I bet you're thinking, wow that's bad! Unfortunately for RFK Jr yesterday got worse. It was then revealed that he (70) was having an affair with right wing journalist Olivia Nuzzi (31) after New York Magazine suspended her.

Everything I learn about RFK Jr I learn against my own will.

-

Saying goodbye to RFK for now, let's move on to Rep. Matt Gaetz of Florida! This Matt Gaetz, with the botox if you didn't recognise him.

Scary lookin, right?

This isn't a completely new story (here's an article about how he alledgedly paid for sex with a minor) but new court filings were released yesterday alledging that he attended a drug-fueled sex party in 2017 with the 17-year-old girl at the center of the alleged sex trafficking scandal.

Sure is great to have such trustworthy men representing this country!

OKAY, on to the next.

-

This wasn't really breaking news because this is just Trump being Trump but he gave a speech at an ANTI ANTISEMITISM EVENT where he preemptively blamed the Jews for being the reason he'll lose this election, telling them they need to get their head checked if they vote for Harris (that's pretty much part of his stump speech by now though) and saying he'll reinstate his Muslim ban. White fascist blaming Jews? Wow, I did Nazi that coming.

-

I genuinely could go on, I really truly could.

Oh! Kamala Harris went on Oprah and it was really nice and not at all insane and she talked to the family of the first known victim of Trump's abortion ban and it was very touching. Trump's official social media then posted a clip of her talking about her gun and saying 'If somebody breaks into my house, they're getting shot' like it was a snatch when in reality Republicans in the comments are saying 'actually, this would make me vote for her'. Thanks, Trump Team for the free advertising!

Misc:

Chris Rufo (known racist and anti immigration right wing activist) got revealed to have an illegal immigrant wife, and then got revealed to be a user of Ashley Madison (database where people go to cheat on their partners)(Robinson was also on Ashley Madison).

Jasmine Crockett during her thing and ripping white republicans to shreds. (idk this was just fun to me)

Actually Republicans and Project 2025 got ripped to shreds and shut down in general by multiple Congress members.

GOP is on the brink of causing a government shutdown, because of COURSE they are.

Cards Against Humanity sues SpaceX over “invasion” of land on US/Mexico border.

Anyway there's actually MORE believe it or not but I can't remember if it happened yesterday. Thank you for reading, I'm always open to discussing current events. I don't think it's a well known fact that I'm into politics because I don't talk about it on tumblr because people are kinda stupid. Anyway!