#this movie owns my mind body and soul

[kitkatdoodlez]

Tennis is a relationship

Thank you challengers for literally changing my life

[laurelwen]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Like Minds | Murderous Intent (2006) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Alex Forbes/Nigel Colbie Characters: Alex Forbes, Nigel Colbie Additional Tags: Rough Sex, Choking, Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death Summary:

Alex takes the offering Nigel insists on making.

This is not my fic, it’s just the most transcendently perfect thing I’ve read in this fandom.  It’s the most on point, brutal insight into the dynamic between these two characters, and I don’t even know what to do with myself right now, other than share it with anyone who will listen  read  marvel at its dark and glorious beauty.

[inkskinned]

i have spent a few days listening to the music you like. you have a tattoo of the band's logo on your ribs. you got it when you were still kind of a kid. my first tattoo was a bird instead. i did the math - we got our first tattoos in the same calendar year. isn't that kind of cool.

my mom loves hallmark movies, so i grew up thinking love would look like a firework. it feels like one, after all. it's just that my house wasn't safe. i thought love was a weapon, could be pointed at your eyes. could lose a finger to it, or teeth. my father used to say passion is everything. i thought that meant constant fighting was a good thing. i thought that meant love looked like a week of bickering, because it was worth the the weekend's boombox apology. i thought quiet love was boring. i thought love had to blot out everything, compel the body and the mind like puppetry. i thought love looks like ruining your own dinner table - but at least you set a feast.

but love looks like a scarf. your hands smoothing it down my chest, being sure each of the edges are tucked in, worried about my asthma attacks being cold-activated. i race you while i'm wearing heels, you hold my hand to guide me downhill while walking my dog. we dance in my living room to waltz of the flowers, i show you how to hold your arms in proper ballet port de bras. you write a song about looking out of my window while the snow falls. i ask you to text my friends back while i'm driving. you play dj in the front seat. somewhere on route 93, we start murmuring about secret things.

oh. there is a difference between peace and dispassion. it was never that i feared quiet, it's that i didn't know what safe felt like. i liked the chaos because it was familiar, not because it was kind. i think i used to fear the word wife. i didn't like the idea of long, lonely days and being yelled at for small things. i didn't like the idea of sacrificing my one beautiful life.

you meet my friends and make a point to learn things about them. we both get excited about the other person's passions. you read my book for hours, squinting at the small words. i try to understand basic guitar information. we talk for four hours on the phone while i string together a garland. we talk for six hours while you write a poem. i save a pintrest tip for the summer about making paper kites. i plan us a week-long trip to maine, map out my favorite places for an eventual hike. you fall asleep on the ride home, and i turn down the radio so it won't wake you up. your quiet hands fold over mine.

when i look up, the stars are brighter. how carefully you've woven gold into the corners of my life. when i move, i feel some part of my soul reflected back onto you.

oh, love is not a net. it's a blanket.

[tojisun]

the way you wrote simon “my cock is too big it won’t fit” riley was jaw dropping, eye-rolling, and heavenly!!!

I’m imagining Simon who finally puts it in and is even more desperate than reader (cue male whimpering audio)

awww thank u so much!! i had such intense need that i bonked my head n went, “yup. this is the horny thought for the day” <333

oh but he was always soooooo desperate, even more so than the reader!! especially before they finally fucked!!!

thinking about the way he fucks his fist every night after your date ends :((

while you were at your home, stuffing your hole with your fingers (and toys, really—your eyes having devoured the chub underneath simon’s pants every time you two would sit close together, snuggled as you watched a movie, before rushing home and putting in on an order for toys because god do you need one. or four…), simon was locked in his room, messily fisting his cock.

there is too much lube, and it is staining his boxers and his pants because he was too horny to even strip properly. he bites down his moans, hesitant to let them out even when he is alone at his safe house, his eyes pressed close as he imagines the way he'll take you: on your knees while he pinches your nipples, flicking the buds with the blunt ends of his nails, or on your back with your legs folded to your chest because there is no way in hell that simon's not going to breed you.

it's that thought that always makes him cum, rumbled groans pouring out like rippling water.

“jesus,” he murmurs as he stares at his cum-stained palm, mind running at the way you clenched-and-unclenched your legs during dinner—something, he notes, was happening more often. “this is torture.”

(simon has always known how you look good in your own desperation, ragged in the way you stare up at him with furrowed eyes and lips jutted into a pout, but there was something different then. it was charged. primal. and simon realized how the ache must have peaked for you.

good, simon thought. i need you just as much.)

he slid two fingers in your twitching hole, relishing in your stuttered moans at the ease of their plunge. the wet squelch made his cock jump, thumping against his thigh, but he wasn’t done.

it wasn’t enough.

(simon has had countless partners before you, just like you had others before him.

you told him of the dissatisfaction, how cocks only ever breached your walls for the pleasure of the body it was attached to and never for your own. you told him of your elation that bubbled into sputtering disappointment because they never knew how to coax an orgasm from you with just their cock. you told him of the accidental orgasms, those that they cannot recreate because it wasn’t intended. sure, you told him of their wonderful fingers or mouths, of their robust laps you were grinding on during those days when sex is more foreplay than the penetration, but it wasn’t what you ached for.

you told him all of this, in return, simon told you the others who could never really fit him. the others who tried but they were never really interested in the preparation. the others who could only take half of his length, hissing when an inch slides in even when it shouldn’t.

“impatient,” simon murmured when you asked why his ex-partners couldn’t fit him.

“and they don’t have that…” he trailed off, tongue heavy in his mouth.

“they don’t have what?” you prodded, blinking at him all so darlingly, your blood buzzed with alcohol.

“they don’t have that masochistic streak,” simon replied, voice gentle. testing.

your only reaction was a quiet gasp, heavy eyes widening a fraction as the words settled in. he watched as you began fidgeting, throat bobbing at your dry swallow.

that was all simon needed to know you are made for him—soul and body.)

the moment your greedy hole managed to gobble all of his four fingers was when simon knew you were ready. he flicked his eyes away from your dripping slit and watched as you laid on the bed twitching, your eyes red from your tears, your skin dotted with sweat.

you looked like a beautiful, hot mess and simon was ready to engulf you whole.

simon slots himself between your legs, fist warm around his flushed cock. your glazed eyes focus on him, watching with open-mouthed gasps, and simon coos, unable to stop himself.

“ready f’r me, pup?” he asks, tapping the head of his cock against your sensitive sex.

it makes you keen, hips squirming, mussing up the already soiled sheets. simon chuckles, heat filling his cheeks, and taps it once, twice, three more times before finally lining the leaking head of his cock against your twitching hole.

the slow press in makes you two moan, bodies locking at the explosion of ecstasy that fills up your senses. overwhelming pleasure quickly razes through him, overtaking his sanity as the wet squeeze of your walls grips him deliciously.

he buckles, muscles liquifying, and the dizzying euphoria makes him stumble. he slips, his cock sliding in deeper, breaching further—

simon whimpers, unable to stop himself as unadulterated bliss grips him. he couldn’t help it: he sinks all of himself in you, your walls not even protesting as they swallowed him in, hungry in the way you are all filled up by him.

“si-!” he hears your delirious squeal, the rumble of your voice scratching into a ragged echo, and simon—

simon gurgles a response.

his mind has been zapped by the peaking high, rendering him unable to string coherent thoughts as all of his synapses sing nothing but the enveloping pleasure, running him on overdrive.

simon feels like he is being devoured. like he is stripped into nothing but his sensitive spots.

“t-too good,” he mewls. “pup, s’too good–”

[sellenite]

cherry blossoms 03 pairing: virgin!Choso x fem!reader contents: oral (m! receiving, sloppy, deep-throat, face-fucking), praise kink (lightly), dracryphilia, Choso is rough but still sweet, friends to lovers word count: 3.3K notes: DIRECT CONTINUATION OF 02! I pulled a crazy editing day (and night lol) on this series, so if you read the original part 2 and are now confused reading this one I am so sorry 😭 I will link the post where I explained the rewrite here: 🤡 but I hope everyone enjoys 🫶 tags: @tojicvmslut @vampress7 @venusinx @mochipip @matchafroggies724 @sabo-has-my-heart @serra10 MDNI | 18+

virgin!Choso whose lips parted in awe as he gazed down at you sitting on your knees before him. You had kissed your way down his torso sweetly, pulling up the hem of his t-shirt a little to press your lips against the bottom of his abs. He reveled in the softness of your lips as they explored more of his body, feeling like he was on cloud nine from all of the gentle attention you were giving him.

He watched you settle on the ground between his parted legs as he sat on the couch, the movie the two of you had put on long forgotten. You began to pull his sweatpants down his thighs and he thought for a moment that he shouldn’t feel so comfortable to be so exposed in front of you, to be so vulnerable. Yet, he had no reservations as he felt your delicate hands slowly remove his pants. When you asked him so sweetly if he trusted you, his answer was an obvious yes. He trusted you completely—with his mind, body, and soul—and he was ready to let you do whatever you wanted to him. And he could see the same tender affection he had for you reflected in your own eyes as you watched him, making sure he was comfortable every step of the way.

You couldn’t help but let out a small gasp as you lowered his pants more, revealing the heavy outline of his erection in his boxers, a dark stain of pre-cum already seeping through the fabric. He watched with curious, lustful eyes as you gingerly reached your hand out to stroke him over the material, feeling the thickness of his cock underneath your palm. He groaned low in his throat, his hips rolling a little as you teased him over his underwear, your hand lightly gripping his length as you gave it gentle strokes.

“Take them off… Please,” Choso begged with a light laugh, to which you returned with your own giggle and a nod. The need you felt for one another at this moment was palpable, yet the playful comfort of your relationship never faded. Choso lifted his hips as you tugged the waistband of his boxers down and they quickly joined his sweatpants around his ankles. His heavy cock sprang free the moment you lifted the material from his body, thick head standing upright against his stomach as it leaked. You blinked a few times as you took in the sight, almost intimidated as you registered how large he was.

virgin!Choso who saw your reaction and felt a moment of doubt, self-conscious fears suddenly racing through his mind. But then you took him so gently into your soft hands and that was enough to make his worries retreat. He let out a light gasp as he felt your hand wrap around his shaft, squeezing him so perfectly that it made his tip dribble even more. You took a moment to familiarize yourself with his cock, gently tracing the veins that ran over it and watching as the fluid started to spill down his pretty head.

His length was impressive, but what you found even more thrilling was how thick and veiny his shaft was. His skin was smooth to the touch underneath the pad of your thumb as you gingerly followed the prominent vein that spanned the underside of him. Immediately, he felt the difference between your hand and his; yours was so much smoother than his rough, calloused palms. Your touch was so delicate, yet so deliberate. Your thumb reached his head and you swiped over his drooling slit, causing his hips to twitch as he sucked in a breath, his keen eyes watching your every movement.

“You’re even bigger than I thought you’d be, Cho... And so pretty,” you giggled sweetly as you wet your lips with your tongue, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth in your excitement. He didn’t quite understand why being “big” was a good thing, but he could hear the wonder in your voice and it made his chest swell with pride that you were pleased with him; and that you thought he was pretty.

"Thank you," he whispered softly, watching as your hand intimately explored his body. You smiled up at him, your pretty eyes creasing in the corners the way he loved so much, but they were darker with lust now. You used your palm to gently stroke over his head, spreading his pre-cum over his shaft as you moved your hand back down in a fist. You began to grip his length with a little more pressure, using his fluid to slowly stroke up and down. He moaned your name softly, his abs clenching as you pumped him steadily and his body became increasingly eager for more. He watched with heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips as you inched your face closer to his throbbing length, holding the base of his shaft tightly in your grasp as you held his gaze.

“Let me make you feel good…” You said in a silken tone, and he watched, unblinking, as your soft lips drew closer to his flushed head.

virgin!Choso who let out a reflexive whimper as you stuck your tongue out to flick the point of your muscle delicately against the underside of his tip—teasing his frenulum. He let out a low moan as you kept teasing him like this, his body trembling lightly against the couch and his lips hanging open as his breathing became heavier. His cock twitched as he felt the wetness of your tongue working against his skin, playfully licking at all of the sensitive spots he didn't even realize he had. His hands shakily found your cheeks, his large palms tenderly cradling your face. You licked over his drooling head—collecting the faintly salted pre-cum that dripped from his slit—and hummed in satisfaction at his clean taste. The spit from your mouth leaked off of your tongue, slipping down his length messily as you looked up at him from under your lashes. You watched as he bit into his lip unconsciously, his eyes staring into yours with an intensity you had only ever seen on his face in battle, concentrating on your every move.

Choso could feel his brain practically melting over how hot the visual of you on your knees for him was. Your perfect, pretty face, your bright eyes, your soft, cherry-colored lips… You were so beautiful and sweet, yet so naughty, as he watched you work your tongue over his aching length—the contradiction making his head feel thick with lust. Seeing your pretty lips so glossy with spit and his pre-cum made his dick feel like it was about to burst at any second. He barely understood this feeling: the desire to want something, someone, so badly that he physically ached. But there you were, on your knees between his legs with your pretty mouth running up and down his cock… And he felt the urge to do things to you that he barely even understood.

He whimpered again and rolled his hips involuntarily as you swirled your tongue around his tip, the sensations driving him insane. He couldn’t help but start whining for you, and you hadn’t even put him properly in your mouth. But the way your warm, wet tongue teased him was enough for him to know that his hand would never come close to the amount of pleasure you could give him.

“Need more, please,” he begged softly, in his deep, gruff voice. His eyes were so dark with lust as he held your gaze, watching as your tongue lolled out to lick up his shaft on either side. He groaned low in his throat, his fingers threading into the hair at the back of your head as his touch grew unconsciously rougher.

“You’re so needy today, Cho,” you teased him with a smile before pressing your lips lightly to his tip. But you were feeling the same urge. You were so turned on from watching and feeling how responsive he was to your touch; you couldn’t help but want to give him more, to be the one to make him feel pleasure he had never experienced before.

virgin!Choso who was about to respond to your teasing when your mouth suddenly wrapped around the head of his cock—and any cohesive thought in his brain was obliterated. Choso let out a husky groan and pushed himself back into the couch cushions as he felt your lips form a tight ring around his tip, gently moving up and down over his ridge. His hips stuttered up as you sucked him and he watched you—utterly entranced—with heavy eyes and flushed cheeks. He could feel your tongue still flicking against his frenulum as you looked up at him with your beautiful mouth stuffed full of his cock; so heavenly, yet so sinful. He felt he could get off from the view alone, his breathing coming out in fast, ragged moans. You let your lips ease slowly down his shaft feeling them stretch around his thickness as you hollowed your cheeks, wanting to make sure it felt good for him.

You pushed your mouth further down his cock—flattening your tongue against the vein on the underside of his length—making his hips buck suddenly, forcing him to the back of your throat. You gagged at the sudden intrusion—your throat constricting around his thick head, squeezing around his dick so perfectly— as spit poured from your lips. Choso whimpered loudly and his hips jerked up once more as his body instinctively chased after the warm wetness of your throat. His trembling hands unconsciously forced your face against his navel, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as he pushed deeper into you. Your throat contracted around his swollen tip as you gagged again, starting to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen. You let out a gargled cry and dug your nails into Choso’s strong thighs; the sharp sting bringing him back down to reality for a moment long enough that he could recover control of his body.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He apologized profusely as his strong hands suddenly relinquished their force on the back of your head, giving you the chance to sit back up. You coughed as your mouth pulled off of his length, spit dribbling down your chin as you struggled to catch your breath. Choso looked down to meet your eyes—glassy with unspilt tears—and a pang of guilt tugged at his heart.

“I’m so sorry… I-I didn’t mean to–” Choso started nervously, afraid that he had hurt you when he saw your glistening eyes. He felt immense guilt. Here you were, offering so kindly to help him and he had ruined it. You could see the anxiety brewing in his wide, purple eyes, so you shook your head and shushed him gently, rubbing a reassuring palm over his thigh.

“It’s okay, Choso—really… I just... Didn’t expect it was all,” you said with a sweet laugh, still a little breathless but smiling up at him. You took a moment to regain your composure, wiping some of the spit that had leaked down your chin off with your hand. You could see his expression relax a little, but there was still a lingering doubt hiding in the slight furrow of his brows. “You can be rougher, if you want to be… I don’t mind,” you offered gently, your eyes looking coyly up into his.

virgin!Choso who swallowed nervously as he took in your words. His hands were back on your face now, his thumbs rubbing tenderly across your cheekbones.

“But… I don’t want to hurt you…” Choso said softly. Yet, he couldn’t deny the inexplicable lust he had felt for watching you drool over his cock, seeing those unspilt tears make your eyes shine so pretty. You shook your head gently. “You won’t. I’ll stop you if it’s too much,” you promised him assuredly. Choso swallowed nervously again, but consented with a light "O-okay," too captivated by the idea of feeling his dick inside of your warm, tight throat to put up much of a fight. His hands stayed on your cheeks as you started to pump his cock slowly with your fist again, using all of the spit that had dripped from your mouth to easily slide up and down his length. Choso whimpered, his hips already bucking gently up to meet your movements.

“Fuck… It feels so good,” he whimpered and you felt your core clench up at his needy tone. You were already so wet from sucking his cock, hearing him beg and whimper for you was making you feel like you could cum just from watching him. “Mmm, I know it does, Cho… Want to make you feel even better though,” you couldn’t help but moan back to him.

Your hand slid up and down his shaft a few more times, making audible wet sounds from how much spit had leaked out of your mouth when he gagged you. You continued to use your hand on the lower part of his length, stroking him steadily as you brought your lips to wrap around his tip once more. His hands slid back into your hair, gently holding the loose strands of hair from your face. When you felt comfortable, you picked up the pace again, sliding your lips further down Choso’s cock as your hand stroked in rhythm with your mouth. Your lips and hand were wrapped so perfectly around him… So wet, so warm, so tight… Choso’s head was spinning and he could feel his control slipping.

“Feels so good…” He repeated once more in a repressed whine as he attempted—in vain—to restrain the movements of his thrusts. “Wanna give you more, pretty. Can you take more?” He asked you so desperately, his eyes glazed over with lust and his eyebrows furrowed deeply. You could feel his thighs trembling, the little jumps his hips made as he struggled not to fuck your face as aggressively as his cock was telling him to. You hummed around him and removed your hand from his shaft, giving him permission to use your throat.

virgin!Choso who lost any remaining semblance of control after you took your hand off of him. He tried to start slowly, trying to make his hips roll lightly into your face, wanting to be as gentle as he could. But he kept pushing deeper with every thrust, making his tip press against the tight ring of your throat harder each time until he was slipping past it, bullying into it. He moaned heavily as he watched your lips stretch to fit his girth and clusters of tears gathered in your waterline, the sight only making him thrust harder.

Choso’s breathing was coming out fast again as he watched you take more of his length. His moans were breathy and whiny as his dick took over and he fucked himself into your face blatantly. His voice was so husky, but his moans were so soft and desperate and it made your cunt throb with want as he used your throat. He was humping his hips into your face with abandon now, one strong hand gripping into your hair and forcing you down on his cock while the other held onto your shoulder like a lifeline. You focused hard on relaxing your throat as he manually bobbed your head up and down his length, his dick getting squeezed so perfectly every time he felt your throat gag and constrict around him.

“F-fuck… Thank you, Y/N…Thank you…” He whined in his gruff voice, his hips shaking as he forced the warm wetness of your mouth down and up his swollen cock. He watched you drool and gag as he abused your throat, spit dripping from your chin and onto his heavy balls. His dark eyes watched as you struggled for him, for the sake of his pleasure, and he felt that familiar pressure building inside of him. You blinked up at him—vision blurred from tears—watching as his pretty face contorted with passion. The corners of his dark eyebrows were curved upwards and his swollen lips parted as he watched you so pliantly take his thick cock. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Choso moaned out desperately—sounding as if he were near crying—his hips jerking more erratically as he neared his release. His back arched as his body trembled against the cushions, his head thrown back once again as he panted and whimpered. “Gonna cum,” he cried out in the most pathetically erotic voice you had ever heard. “Gonna cum in your pretty mouth…” His hand had made a fist in your hair, holding your head steady now as he let his volatile thrusts push him over the edge.

virgin!Choso who pulled your face flush against his pelvis as his cock twitched and he released his cum deep into your throat with a sob. You watched the breathtaking sight before you through watery eyes; Choso’s body trembling above you, his neck—littered with blooming lovebites—stretched so beautifully as his head tipped against the back of the couch. He panted and whined your name and his hips bucked into your face with every rope of cum that spurted from his pulsing length, forcing you to swallow all of it.

He groaned as his cock finally stopped twitching and as his grip on your hair relaxed, letting your lips release his thick cock with a pop. You pulled back, breathing heavily as drool streamed down your chin, and your eyes were glossed over with tears. A thick strand of spit hung between your lips and Choso’s tip as the two of you struggled to regain your breath. With effort, Choso pulled his head up to look down at you and gave you a dizzy grin, panted laughs escaping from his chest as he reveled in the afterglow of his orgasm. He took in your flushed cheeks, your disheveled hair, and your glassy eyes as you smiled back at him; and he thought you were the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

“How- How was that?” Choso asked breathlessly, his brain still too dazed to form a coherent sentence. You laughed in return, your eyes creasing in the corners and making him chuckle back at his own speechlessness. “You did so good, Choso," you praised him sweetly, wiping the residual drool from your chin and tears from your cheeks. "It was really hot... Watching you let go like that,” you admitted to him a little shyly as you helped pull his boxers back up his thighs, covering his half-hard cock back up (for now).

“How was it for you?” You asked him a little smugly as you smiled up at him, confident you knew his answer. Choso smirked lightly, rolling his eyes, but he still entertained your question.

“Incredible… I... Didn’t know it could feel that good,”  he admitted sincerely, still in disbelief at just how blissful you had made him feel. You smiled at him warmly and laughed as you rose to your feet, feeling more than a little proud of yourself. Choso watched you stand, his eyes gazing at you with adoration and contentment and a lazy grin plastered on his face. He patted his muscular thigh, suddenly feeling emboldened to show you just how grateful he was for you.

“Your turn..."

these just keep getting longer omg 😭 but I am having so much fun making this series more of a slow-burn and I hope you guys are enjoying as well 🫶

[skipper1331]

Secret (2) // Alexia Putellas

| Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | extra |

She didn‘t try to follow you.

She didn‘t try to text or call you.

She didn‘t try to fight for you.

She let you.

She let you walk through that door.

She let you go.

They say that you only really appreciate something when it is no longer there - she understood that now. It never occurred to her how terrible it must have been for you to be her "secret," even if she never wanted it that way.

Plagued by the fear of what others would think or what would happen, she dreamed of a love without worries and anxiety; in her eyes, this love only happened behind closed doors. She didn't realize how bad it actually was for you, even though she knew exactly that you wanted a typical romance book love story. She didn't deserve you and even less deserved that you had put up with her in secret for so long.

You, on the other hand, were caught up in your anger. You had put up with this secrecy for over a year, but a limit had been crossed - your heart ached just in her presence.

She had managed to nestle herself in your heart with her charming smile, her sparkling eyes and her elegant but captivating nature. She was Alexia Putellas, of course she had done it. She could do anything when she set her mind to. She had won the Ballon D‘or twice, the World Cup and dozens of other trophies and titles - only the title of calling you her wife, she hadn't managed.

In the nights where she couldn‘t sleep, she had dreamed of marrying you - you were different. Any feelings she knew before no longer existed. It was only you.

And you were no longer hers.

-

After your break up with the Catalonian, your motivation started to rise again as the weight you had been carrying in your heart and on your shoulders wasn‘t there anymore. You went out with your friends, explored the city a bit more and focused on yourself. You deserved to be happy and you knew that. You treated yourself with new shoes (shoes you had been eyeing for awhile) and finally an own Netflix account.

In training, you went to your absolute limits, playing wonderfully and yet having fun - the love to the sport filled your veins again.

You were glowing - the new look suited you.

But when you were at home, it was different. Two people met at the doorstep. Person 1 who glowed and person 2 who sulked. As soon as the threshold was crossed, personality 2 took over your body, mind and soul. Your broken heart showed itself. You hadn't managed to remove the second toothbrush in your bathroom or empty Alexia’s drawer yet. Her clothes were yours too, you wore them as soon as personality 2 needed the comfort which was needed constantly.

You cried.

You screamed into your pillow.

You ate ice cream, chocolate, anything.

Watched sad shows and movies.

And cried more.

Nobody seemed to notice your switch of personality - who should?

No one knew that you and Alexia used to be a couple..

No one knew that your heart was broken..

I‘m capable of handling that on my own.

I‘m an independent woman.

..except one person: Alba.

unknown

hey, it‘s Alba.

Ale told me what happened.

If you need someone to talk to (a friend), feel free to message me:)

You appreciated that she sent you a message, her intention probably kindhearted but she was Alexia‘s sister after all.

You replied with 'thank you' and sort of an appreciation.

Time would heal your wounds. Hopefully.

In the nexts weeks, you focused on the upcoming uwcl matches and getting enough recovery after your training sessions.

You like to think that you didn‘t even look at Alexia but you knew better than that. She‘s Alexia and breathtaking, you could not not look at her.

But you tried your hardest not to give in when she looked at you, looking at you with those sad doe eyes. Sometimes it seemed like she wanted to approach you or even say something yet she never did, she stayed silent.

Was it wrong to hope for her approach? That she would just kiss you in the middle of the pitch?

Maybe it was wrong but you couldn’t help it. You loved her and you knew she loved you too. And love, no matter how much you want it sometimes, doesn't just disappear. It always leaves its mark.

Added to that, Alexia wasn‘t just anybody - she was the first person with whom you truly felt the butterflies and every cheesy book describing feeling.

She could have been your greatest love story - the love story you always wished for.

-

"Good luck" Alexia said, her hand brushing against yours as she walked past you.

She smiled a bit, immediately looking away, joining Aitana and Keira.

"Good luck" you whispered back, surprised that she had spoken to you, nonetheless kindly accepting that she did.

The first leg against Chelsea went alright, Aitana opened the score as you made it 2-0, 5 minutes before the ref blew her whistle.

You shook hands with each opponent and talking to your friends for a bit.

"Oh please, I’m your biggest fan, swap your jersey with me" the dramatic voice of Niamh Charles shrilled through the conversation you were having with Guro and Erin. You laughed, Niamh‘s arm around your shoulder, "oh please, please" she fake cried, the girl nothing but laughter in her voice.

"Aren‘t the dozens of my jersey enough?" you joined, laughing.

It was an unspoken rule whenever Niamh and you faced each other to swap jerseys as the two of you had met in the u-teams, becoming friends in an instant and being close friends ever since.

"Nah, babe, you know I can never get enough of you" she rolled her eyes, pressing a sloppy kiss to cheek.

Disgusted, you wiped it off and shoved her away.

Alexia watched the scene in front of her with fire in her eyes, oh how she hated Niamh - the green eyed monster talking.

"Jealous?" the soft voice of Ingrid pulled her back to reality.

"¿Que? No! I’m not jealous" Alexia’s accent was thick, her voice raspy and mind completely somewhere else.

"You should ask her out, I think she likes you" the Norse proposed, tapping the Catalonians shoulder as she walked to Frido, leaving the captain alone.

Ale had always suspected that Fridolina and Ingrid knew about the two of you because they were your best friends, but that wasn't the case. Alexia realized that only now since Ingrid had suggested asking you out - you had always been honest and respectful with her wishes - accepting them, even though they broke your heart day by day.

No one knew that you were more than just teammates.

They were clueless.

You were amazing.

And she was stupid - stupid to think that you would tell anyone when you hadn't even told your best friends and stupid for letting you go.

-

The second leg ended up in 2-1, 4-1 on average which meant that Barcelona would play in the Champions League final.

You were thrilled when the ref blew his whistle, so happy about the fact that you had the chance to win the trophy.

On the other hand, you felt bad for the Chelsea players, they had given everything as they tried their best to win. Unfortunately for them, it wasn‘t enough. You approached Niamh who had tears in her eyes, pulling her in a hug. You comforted her the best you could but loosing an important match would sting for awhile, no matter how much you praised the defender for her game.

"You know, I will burn your jersey at home" the defender chuckled, nonetheless taking her jersey off while you did the same - swap.

"That‘s only fair" you grinned, wearing now the blue shirt.

Once again, Alexia glared at Niamh, hating the fact that you were wearing 'Charles 21' on the back instead of 'Alexia 11' or 'Putellas and your number' but she knew it was her own fault.

If she had just listened to you or introduced you as her girlfriend with such pride right from the start then she wouldn't be in the situation of a broken heart and jealousy.

She loved you and was forever sorry for hiding and neglecting you.

You deserved better than that, way better.

-

Winning the champions league felt euphoric.

The final match had been intense, both sides fighting for goals as the ref showed many yellows cards.

But Barcelona did it, they had done the unthinkable - beating Lyon and taking their revenge.

It didn‘t matter that the score was only 1-0. That one goal meant more than anything to everybody of the team. You felt so much pride and joy, the stadium chanting while you received your medals and lifting the trophy.

You wanted to cherish this moment forever.

"I‘m proud of you" la reina stated as she stood next to you. You didn’t even notice that she had approached you.

"Thank you, Ale, it means a lot" you smiled at the midfielder. Your smile was so genuine and wide, your eyes sparkly and shiny - you looked so beautiful, in Alexia’s eyes.

She couldn’t help but kiss your forehead.

You let her.

Her lips lingered for a moment, pulling back with rosy cheeks before she walked to her mother and sister who were waiting in the stands.

Your eyes followed the Catalonian, her mother hugging her tightly while Alba looked in the direction Ale came from - she saw you and waved.

-

Back in Barcelona, the team + family/ friends went out to celebrate. Drinks were getting drowned, songs were being yelled and dance moves were being showed. The vibe and mood was amazing, everybody letting loose after the last few intense weeks.

You couldn’t remember how many drinks you‘ve had but it was a good amount - each of them delicious.

Making your way over to the bar, you ordered yet another drink. You wouldn’t say you were drunk per se but you also weren’t sober anymore.

Nobody was, or cared.

You won the champions league, you were allowed to party.

While you waited for your drink, a familiar unfamiliar voice talked to you, "hola"

you turned to the side, seeing the younger Putellas standing next to you.

"hi" you replied.

"Congratulations! Your goal was amazing" she beamed while you smiled and mumbled a thanks. "my sister can be an ass, you know? Oh yeah, you do." she giggled at her own joke - she clearly wasn‘t sober either, "but she loves you. She‘s been sulking for weeks."

You tried to listen the best you could, questioning if you would remember the conversation in the morning.

"She even told mamá about you and how she fucked things up"

You gasped, "no way! She talked about me? I‘m so shocked"

The sister laughed, playfully hitting your chest as you joined her laughter - eyes watching the two of you.

"You should make her jealous"

"Yeah, sure" you replied, rolling your eyes, "as if Ale‘s jealous"

"More than you think. She doesn’t like your friend Charles, for example. 'she should wear my name' blah blah blah" Alba explained, your mind spinning for several reasons.

"How should I make her jealous then?"

"Easy. Follow me" the girl grabbed your arm, pulling you on the dance floor, "hey! my drink" you grumbled, the Putellas sister ignoring you.

She turned around, looping her arms around your waist as yours went around her neck. You followed Alba‘s lead, Shakira blasting through the speakers. Looking around, you searched for Alexia. It didn‘t take long to find those pretty eyes who looked nothing but angry. Her jaw was clenched, hands balled into fists as she shifted uncomfortably around.

She was not enjoying the show.

"Bet she‘ll be here in 3…" Alba leaned in, "2…." as you did the same, "1…"

Strong hands on your hips pulled you away, a protective arm smacking around your waist, Alexia glaring at her sister - so much fire in her eyes, "you‘re allowed to look but do not touch what’s mine" she growled, "now leave" her voice was stern and firm. Your ex girlfriend stood now in front of you, looking at you, checking you out while Alba walked away, winking at you.

"You look nice" the girl smiled charmingly, the green eyed monster completely gone.

"What was that?!"

"I said you looked-"

"No. Do not touch what’s mine?!" you mocked, your heart secretly racing at her possessiveness.

"I won‘t let her kiss you!" her voice was raised, jealousy pumping through her veins again, "I‘m the only one who will do so" the thought of you ever touching, kissing, loving someone else made Alexia furios.

She loved you.

"Do you understand me?"

The alcohol in Ale‘s system made her bold, confident and possessive - she didn‘t care who was watching or listening. All she cared about was you.

You had never seen her like that before - openly jealous, with her hands on your hips and chests touching in public - it was hot. She was hot.

"Yes, I do" you replied, somehow starstruck.

"Good girl"

You died on the spot.

Was it hot in here? It definitively was! Or was it just Alexia?

It was just Alexia.

Your knees went weak, your heart was racing and skin on fire.

In a crowded bar, surrounded by family, friends and colleagues she smashed her lips against yours. You responded as eagerly while she tried to pull you impossibly closer - oh, how she had missed you and your kisses.

This kiss wasn‘t like the ones you shared before, it was pure need.

"Let‘s go" the midfielder mumbled, trying to catch her breath, the same as you did. She waited for a respond - your consent - before she left.

With you.

[permanentswaps]

Fit Into His Soul

Since childhood, Bill possessed the unique ability to manipulate souls at will. He first found out in the 4th grade when he accidentally found himself in his teacher’s body. At first, he only used his power discretely, shifting his own soul into the minds of friends and even bullies for a couple minutes while staying silent. However, as the years passed, Bill's concern waned, and he began swapping souls more regularly.

As an adult, Bill shared his power with some new friends: Tom, Mike, and Frank. Initially, they would swap with or possess one another, but over time they eventually got bored with each other’s aging bodies. That’s when Bill had the idea of taking turns having his friends possess his son, Ezra. As a fitness influencer, Ezra was the perfect opportunity to let these men re-experience their youth in one of the hottest bodies possible.

With the plan in motion, Bill informed Tom, Mike, and Frank that each of them would have a day inside Ezra's body. Tom and Mike had already indulged in relatively mundane activities, such as hanging out with friends, reliving youthful experiences, and partying at clubs. Now, it was Frank's turn.

As Frank lay in his bed, a sense of anticipation filled the air. Bill prepared to extract Frank's soul, leaving his body in a dormant state for the next day of possession.

"Bill," Frank hesitated, carefully choosing his words, "Are you sure Ezra's okay with this?"

Bill chuckled dismissively. "Why wouldn't he be? And anyway, it's not like he really gets a choice."

Frank remained unconvinced, a hint of uncertainty lingering in his expression. Yet, his eagerness to relive youth overshadowed any reservations. "I'll pull you out at midnight. Until then, enjoy yourself," Bill assured, just before Frank felt his soul detach and soar towards the other side of town.

---

As Frank woke up in an unfamiliar room on the other side of town, he looks around. The soft morning light filters through the curtains, revealing a room meticulously decorated with framed sports and movie posters. He looked down at his hands, wrinkle free, but with pronounced calluses formed around his grip. A smirk plays on his lips as he runs his fingers over the now firm biceps.

"I could get used to this," Frank thinks to himself, reveling in the newfound strength that courses through his rejuvenated body.

"Don't get too comfortable," a voice echoes in Frank's mind, surprising him. The voice is distinctly young, and it takes a moment for Frank to realize it's Ezra's consciousness communicating with him.

"Ezra? You're awake?" Frank replies, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Ezra's consciousness chuckles, a distant presence within the confines of his own mind. "I'm here, but I can't really do anything about it. My body is yours for the day I guess."

Frank furrows his brow, absorbing the surreal nature of the situation. "I really thought you’d be dormant in here"

Ezra's voice carries a resigned tone. "Nah, but I’m used to this. My dad used to take over whenever he thought I was being annoying, or if he wanted to relive his college days, which was often."

Frank is taken aback by this revelation, realizing the extent to which Bill had used his son's body as a vessel for his whims. "And you're okay with it?" Frank inquires, a mixture of concern and disbelief in his tone.

Ezra's consciousness sighs, "I don't have much of a choice. Although I must admit, lending my body to strangers isn’t the best."

Frank rises from the bed and begins to explore the room. He's drawn to a full-length mirror, where he takes a moment to admire his reflection, appreciating the youthful features that stare back at him.

“Well, I’m not really a stranger anymore, am I? Name’s Frank,” he says, continuing to stare at his reflection.

---

Deciding to fully embrace the experience, Frank decides to follow the familiar routine that the others had taken during their time in Ezra's body. He heads to the gym, eager to see what this younger, fitter body is capable of.

The atmosphere in the gym is charged with energy as Frank lifts weights, feeling the strength and vitality coursing through the well-toned muscles. As he works out, Frank can't help but appreciate the youthfulness of his borrowed body. Every move, every flex, feels invigorating.

Meanwhile, within the recesses of his own mind, Ezra's consciousness simmers with resentment. He watches, powerless, as his body is showcased and celebrated by others, the very essence of his being now controlled by someone else.

In the gym, people start approaching Frank, impressed by the dedication they perceive in Ezra's workout routine. "Hey, man, your form is incredible! What's your secret?" one admirer asks, while another nods in agreement, expressing admiration for Frank's apparent fitness expertise.

Frank, embracing the charisma of Ezra's social media persona, responds with a casual grin, "Consistency and dedication, my friend. It's all about the grind."

Later, in a quieter corner of the gym, Frank takes a break and pulls out Ezra's phone. He scrolls through social media, marveling at the number of followers that come with being a fitness influencer.

"Guess being Instagram famous has its perks," Frank mutters to himself, an amused expression crossing his face.

Driven by a sudden surge of confidence, Frank moves toward the gym's mirrored wall. In a display of vanity, he flexes his newfound muscles, tracing the contours with his hands. The reflective surface captures his image, and he takes a series of pictures, each pose carefully curated for maximum impact on Instagram later.

---

Later that evening, Frank, now totally immersed in Ezra's world, hits the local nightclub. The pulsating music and flashing lights create an electric atmosphere, and Frank's presence, enhanced by Ezra's sculpted physique, immediately draws attention. Men and women alike gravitate towards Frank, complimenting his physique and expressing admiration. Reveling in the attention, he confidently maneuvers through the dance floor.

Suddenly, Frank locks eyes with a handsome guy and they start chatting and laughing. Ezra's voice resonates within Frank's mind. "Frank, this is Gabriel. I've been crushing on him for a long time. Don’t be weird, okay?" Ezra's words carry a hint of vulnerability and a twinge of jealousy.

As the conversation deepens, Frank discovers that Gabriel recently went through a difficult breakup, and genuine sympathy crosses his  face.

"That sounds really tough, Gabriel. Breakups suck," Frank empathizes, momentarily allowing the true essence of Ezra's feelings to shine through.

Gabriel appreciates the genuine connection, opening up further. "Yeah, it's been hard. But I guess life goes on, right?"

Frank, however, can't resist the allure of the moment. Flirting even harder, he leans in, with a sultry voice. "Absolutely, and sometimes new beginnings are just what we need."

Gabriel chuckles biting his lip, “You’re funny Ezra, what kind of new beginnings did you have in mind.”

As they dance, Frank's confident moves and Ezra's unspoken feelings collide in a complex dance of emotions. The nightclub's vibrant lights cast shadows on their faces, accentuating the intensity of the moment.

Ezra's voice echoes with a sense of desperation, "Frank, please, don't take advantage of this. I never thought Gabriel would be interested, and now you're complicating everything."

Frank, caught up in the whirlwind of the night, responds with a wry smile, "Ezra, my man, you worry too much. Let's enjoy the night and worry about the consequences later."

With a shared, unspoken understanding, they lean in closer until their lips meet in a passionate kiss.

Breaking away, they share a breathless gaze, the air between them heavy with unspoken implications. Gabriel, a mix of surprise and exhilaration in his eyes, speaks in a hushed tone, "Ezra, this is... unexpected, and I'm not sure I want it to end."

Frank responds with a playful yet enigmatic smile. "Who said it has to end, Gabriel? Tonight's full of surprises."

---

The pulsating beats of the club still echoed in Frank's ears as he arrived at Ezra’s apartment with Gabriel. In the dimly lit living room, Frank pins Gabriel down to the couch and continues their passionate make out. Ezra, fueled by an overwhelming jealousy and longing for Gabriel, begins to fight back against Frank's control. The shifts in Ezra’s body go unnoticed by Gabriel, who says lost admiring Ezra’s muscular body.

"Frank, I can't stand this. I want to be with Gabriel," Ezra's voice echoes in Frank's mind, a desperate plea laced with bitterness.

"Ezra, I'm just enjoying this night. Don't ruin it for me," Frank retorts, a hint of frustration seeping into his thoughts.

"I won't let you have him," Ezra says, gaining strength.

In a last-ditch effort to maintain control, Frank attempts to wrap himself in the essence of Ezra's consciousness. But to his surprise, this only fuels Ezra's strength, making him more resolute in reclaiming what is rightfully his.

With a distinct "pop," Ezra regains control. A triumphant grin crosses his face as he looks into Gabriel's eyes and pulls him in closer for another kiss.

However, not a minute later, the clock strikes midnight, Bill’s deadline for the possession.

In an instant, Ezra is violently ripped out of his body, leaving Frank alone in his borrowed vessel. Confusion washed over Frank’s face, prompting a concerned “What’s wrong” from Gabriel.

“It’s nothing” replied Frank, smiling before eagerly diving back in.

---

The next morning, Ezra and Frank awoke to find themselves in each other's bodies on opposite sides of town. Frank, still in Ezra's body, stretched with a sense of excitement, admiring his sculpted arm, which was draped across Gabriel’s chest.

Meanwhile, Ezra, waking up in Frank's body, found himself in a state of panic. He gazed at his own reflection in horror, grappling with the realization that he was trapped in a body that wasn't his own.

Ezra rushed to his dad’s house to unravel the perplexing situation. Knocking frantically on the door, he was met with Bill’s groggy face.

"Frank? What's going on? Why are you here so early?" Bill asked.

Ezra, still frazzled, recounted the events of the previous night. "Dad, something went wrong. I think you pulled me out instead of Frank. I woke up in his body, and he's probably running around in mine right now!"

Bill looked at him confused. "What do you mean?” he muttered, “are you saying you’re Ezra?”

Bill and Ezra made their way across town to Ezra’s apartment. Frank stood in the doorway shirtless in Ezra’s body, seeing out a properly disheveled Gabriel.

“That was a lot of fun. I’ll text you.” Frank said, slapping Gabriel’s ass as he walked out.

Meanwhile, Bill and Ezra walked up to the door.

“Hey Dad, what’s up” Frank said, flashing a brief but knowing smirk at his former body, which he could only assume was being controlled by Ezra.

"I can't believe this, Dad. Frank's probably trying to steal my body," Ezra lamented, a hint of frustration in his voice. "I knew he was up to something yesterday, he was just too into being me."

“What are you talking about?” said Frank, “I didn’t steal anyone’s body.”

Bill looked at Frank and Ezra inquisitively, saying “well, there’s only one way to tell the truth.”

Closing his eyes, Bill focused his power, drawing forth their ethereal forms. As their souls materialized, he carefully observed the energies that defined their true selves. Frank looked down at himself and saw a muscular form that looked just like Ezra’s body.

"Hmm, they look like how they're supposed to," Bill remarked, his brow furrowed in concentration as he popped them back into their bodies.

Ezra, trapped again in Frank's body, felt a surge of panic. "Dad, you have to believe me. I'm Ezra! Frank's lying!"

Unbeknownst to them all, Ezra’s fight to regain control of his body had more severe consequences than anyone could’ve imagined. You see, when Frank took on Ezra’s essence during the struggle and let go of control, he was giving up the dominant spot in his body. At that time, the dominant spot was held by Frank. Which means, Ezra and Frank not only changed the balance of the possession, but they had also accidentally swapped souls. Now, in the astral plane, Frank appeared as Ezra, and vice versa.

Frank, still in Ezra's body, seized the opportunity to further his ruse. "See, Dad? I told you, I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

The room fell silent as Bill, convinced by the visual evidence in the astral plane, turned the anguished Ezra. "I can't believe you would lie to me like this Frank. If this is how you repay my kindness for letting you borrow my power and my son, then maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore.”

Ezra felt a profound sense of betrayal and desperation. "Dad, please, I'm telling the truth. You have to believe me!"

But Bill, his trust shaken by the apparent evidence, remained resolute. "No, Frank. I need some time to process all of this. Just go.”

“And don’t come back you creep” Frank shouts after him, standing tall as he realizes these muscles are now his for good.

[youryanderedaddy]

Bad dog

tw: very trippy and edgy rawr, hinted captivity, hinted abuse, insults, victim blaming

During the coldest nights, as the fireplace tickles your cheeks red, he likes to tell you over and over - with the slightest of smiles, the story of how you two first met. As if you don't remember it. As if you don't regret every second of it.

You with your long raincoat crying, barely coherent, searching for escape, for a savior to run into. Clinging to any stranger who looked kind enough, who had innocent eyes, who wasn't drunk or drugged out of their mind - but in that type of neighbourhood after dark, you hardly met any respectable people. Heavy stench of wet tobacco sinking to the very fabric of your flimsy dress under the cargo (feeling like a whore and looking like one, he often adds with a biting chuckle) - your heart was beating, clapping like a dying bird's wings, and if it could speak with a human voice, it would be screaming. You were being chased.

You don't even recall his name or his face anymore. Maybe an angry lover? A crazed admirer? Your father, drunk and bitter after a fight? Back then you were so terrified you could describe him in your sleep, but now nothing seemed as scary as it did back then. Darkness has become your sanctuary and even the monsters pity you. You were afraid you were losing your mind, once, (don't be silly, he had said. you were crazy from the star, doll.) you could feel his hands on you, but whose hands were they really? Why were you running in the first place?

He was screaming. Threatening to murder you, maybe. You were shaking and wet and you just needed a hug. And perhaps one hundred martinis followed by the most gruesome, toe - curling, humiliating fuck of your life. The type that leaves you feeling filthy, bleeding, and not even in a good way. The type you could control and write down, and fully envision with director cuts and quotes and props, as if come out of your own personal fucked up pink little porn studio.

You needed someone - something. A friend? A kind soul that happened to pass by? You had watched too many movies. You were naive - all those offices, all those mass corporate names, those leather seats at the top floor right next to the big boss, those tears and sweats to climb the ladder and yet, you were still a naive, stupid little girl. Believing in fairytales, in the power of love, tenderness, believing that out there exists someone who might just take you as you are for free. Someone who will hold you without bruising you. Someone who will save you without destroying everything you are. Someone who will fight those fights for you without somehow perversely enjoying breaking down all those walls, all that independence you had created for yourself.

You're not a child anymore. And as you look at the man across from you, with his crazed eyes, with what he thinks is love, you're not sure if you're the naive one. You're not sure if good exists, if love is real or just some commercial bullshit. A lie that communists invented to get free sex, or whatever.

"You looked like a nasty little street rat. You jumped into my arms and I was thinking," He speaks and speaks and speaks, and God, you're tired of hearing. You wish your ears would bleed out before he is finished with the story. "Maybe I should blow your brains out. One less sad whore on those streets." He grips your thighs painfully and you kick him in the groin, but he only groans in return. Freak. "But then you opened that cute little mouth of yours and-"

And you begged him to help you. To save you. To take you away from this miserable life of yours.

"You looked so helpless. I couldn't help myself."

And that's why he decided to chain you like a dog and fuck you black and blue. Because he couldn't help himself. And because you couldn't help yourself, you had invited him. Your body was calling out to him. If you weren't so sad, if you weren't so lonely, so helpless. If you weren't in the wrong place at the wrong time, you wouldn't meet the wrong people. If you had only been a good girl. If you had just stayed put. If you didn't entice bad men - even as a child. Even as you were spilling your guts out, maybe your blood was just that beautiful.

"You basically threw yourself into my arms. It was love at first sight."

Right. It was love all along.

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY

A/N: Here comes chapter FOUR! Oh wow. It's easier when I do this for fun. I don't feel that much pressure to write and put it out regularly. I think the pace of releasing new chapters will slow down soon, but I hope to finish this at least the way I want to.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: violence, blood

Summary: In Salem, Logan and Y/N have the opportunity to save the boy.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience.

Words: 5200+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Three

LOGAN HOWLETT - WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY

The sky turned dark blue, and the moon showed high up. Y/N’s eyes were locked on it, watching as it illuminated the whole world. She found nights to be her favourite - calm, peaceful. Everyone’s soul would rest as their heads would travel into the dreamland. Then again, sleeping was difficult and unpleasant when nightmares entered uninvited.

“What happened today?” Logan brought her back to reality with the question. “Why the tears?” 

She exhaled, annoyed by that question. “I talked with the Professor,” she said, not looking at him. “He told me about slipping from Cerebro. And I know you know.” 

His eyes never left the road. “I know. We all do. He didn’t tell us why it kept happening.” 

Y/N turned her head to him and observed his focused face. His hands were resting on the steering wheel. “He discovered the reason.” Logan looked at her for a brief moment. “It has to do with my mutation. In his words, it is all about protection. Somehow, it shields my brain from telepaths or any mind infiltration.” 

“I thought he read your mind,” he was confused. 

“He did,” she nodded. “Until he couldn’t again. My mind decides for itself, it seems. One moment, you can come in and have a peak, and then, the doors close, and you are left standing outside in the cold.” 

“You’ll figure it out.” 

“I already figured out other things. I am dumb and naive,” Y/N scoffed. “That realisation hurt like a bitch.” 

His eyes were back on her. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? You are not any of those things.” 

She had to laugh. “Oh, if you only knew how many stupid things I did in the past. You’d then know that I am right.” 

“We all make stupid things,” he commented. “I have my own fair share of them.” 

Y/N shifted in her seat and turned her body to see him better. “Ah, will I learn something new about you?” she narrowed her eyes. 

“Only if you tell me more about your stupidity,” he grimaced at her. 

The smile disappeared from her face, and she lowered her eyes. The gear lever became more fascinating than anything else around. “My ex-boyfriend sold me to the lab,” she said timidly. 

“What?” his foot pressed on the break, the car coming to a halt. There was a stop sign that he almost didn’t see. “What the fuck?” He turned left on another road and continued driving to Salem. 

“I was barely nineteen when he found me and gave me a roof and food. He, Mars, was the leader of the group - Void.” She wasn’t ready to tell the story out loud. The fear of him judging her would be unbearable. Charles was sympathetic. Not a hit of judgement came out of his voice. Maybe Logan would be the same? “I’ve spent there almost four years before it went to shit.”

“Void? It sounds like Magneto’s ‘Brotherhood’,” Logan stated. 

“The Void consisted of mutants and humans. It was basically a criminal group. We would steal money, cars and do all sorts of shit,” she shook her head. “I am not proud of that part of  my life.” 

“What happened?” he was curious. 

Y/N huffed and closed her eyes. “Mars, such a weird name, could hypnotise people, manipulate them as he liked. He was a mutant. I didn’t know about it. Many of us didn’t. He used it to his advantage. He would force people to do things for him, even torture innocent people.

“At this point, I cannot be sure what was my own doing and what was his. All I know is he had me in the palms of his hands. It took some sweet nothings and a little attention, and this bitch,” she pointed at herself,  “fell for him.”

“So, you were in love,” Logan said after a while. 

“I think, I don’t know. Let’s say I was, but it was one-sided. Mars used me, used my power to protect him. He gave me some attention and fell for it.” She bit her lower lip, nervousness spreading over her body. “During that time with him, I did unspeakable things.” 

Logan noticed it was difficult to talk about that part. She twiddled her thumbs. “Why did he sell you to the lab?”

Y/N scratched her nape. “When I found out that he was a mutant and what was his ability - yes, it took me four years - I wanted to run away and never look back. Of course, being the stupidly brave woman I am, I went to confront him. Mars was one step ahead of me.

“The last thing I remember was hands holding me tight, pulling me away from him. They got me off guard and injected me with a drug. When I gained consciousness, I was locked in a cell. And thus started my five-year life as a lab rat, moved at least seven times around the country.” 

“Damn,” said Logan. 

“Dumb, blind, naive - that’s all I can say about myself. Lessons were learned. I thought about killing him, you know? A person like him doesn’t deserve to live. Who knows how many girls he had used since he sold me?” 

“If you had the chance, would you?” Logan asked, curious to know the answer to that. 

It took her a minute to admit it. “Yes. I would.” She reached into the pocket of her jeans and took out a black hair elastic. Her hands worked fast, and she brushed her hair into a bun. Some strands framed her face.  When her eyes found Logan staring at her, she gave him a faint smile. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“Not at all,” he admitted. “I’d do the same thing. Hell, I did it in the past. I killed people who used me and betrayed me. The list of people whose life I ended is long. I promised myself I’d never kill again. I quickly realised that’s not how it works in this world.” 

“You’d do anything to survive,” she added after that. “I did. You know the saying - I’d kill for love. And I did. Uh, maybe. I don’t know. Whether I did or didn’t, it doesn’t matter. There is blood on my hands. I have to live with that.” 

A gas station came into their view. Logan turned the car and parked on a free spot next to the building. “I’ll fill the tank, and then we can continue.” 

Y/N unfastened the seatbelt and stepped outside. She stretched her limbs. She went inside the building and bought two water bottles and a chocolate. As she was walking out, her eyes captured Logan filling the tank. Her eyes travelled over his body, admiring how well-built he was. Out of nowhere, her lips slightly curved up. There was a warm feeling in her lower stomach and even excitement. Where did that come from? 

He noticed. Logan saw her standing behind the glass door, holding the bottles and smiling at him. He flared his nostrils and moved his eyes away. Logan moved inside to pay for the gas just as Y/N walked out to the car. 

She put the bottles and chocolate on the roof. The smell of gasoline lingered around the place. One cigarette or a match, and the station would explode. Where was her mind going with this? 

“Hey there, pretty girl.” Two unknown men approached her. They were tall, one was bold, and the other had short dark hair. “Wanna hang out?” 

She hated this. Why did men need to talk to women when they were not interested? She glared at them. “No, thanks.” 

“Oh, come on, sweets.” 

She squinted at them. “I think you have trouble accepting when someone says no.” 

“Mouthy,” one laughed. “I like that.” 

“I suggest you leave me alone before-”

“Before what, sugar?”

Logan walked out, and his eyes fell on Y/N and two douchebags talking to her. “What the fuck?” he mumbled and walked straight to her. Instinctively, he stood behind her, giving the men death glares. “Can I help ya, fellas?” 

Y/N could feel Logan’s body heat radiating. He stood close to her, his front almost touching her back. She smirked, loving how the men’s faces paled. They stepped back. 

“I thought so,” Logan’s hand rubbed Y/N’s right shoulder and then walked around the car. 

Y/N winked at the men and stepped inside the car, smiling. She looked at Logan, who already had a cigar in his mouth, lighting it up. “Thanks.” 

“Eh, don’t mention it,” he said. 

They had another hour and a half before they reached Salem. Either they were silent, or they talked about random things. Y/N could still feel Logan’s touch on her shoulder, lingering there gently. 

“Will you tell me something about you?” she asked an hour later. “I told you about my stupidity. I’d like to know more about you. That is if you are willing to share.” He smiled and rolled his eyes. “You’ve said you killed a lot of people. Can you tell me more?” 

She noticed how he flinged. She must have hit a tough spot. Y/N wanted to apologise. Logan decided to tell her more. “I’ve seen wars, fought in them even.”

“Wars?”

“First World War, Second World War,” he answered. 

Y/N’s mouth almost fell to her lap. “Wait, what do you mean?” 

“I was born in 1832,” he announced. Watching Y/N’s face change a few times was amusing. 

“No shit,” she didn’t believe him. “You cannot be over 170 years old. You look not older than 35.” 

“I ain’t lying, bub,” he grinned at her. 

Y/N’s mouth kept moving. No words came out. Many thoughts were running through her mind. Her whole body turned to him. “Okay, it makes sense when I know about your regenerative healing factor. I didn’t think it would make you immortal.” 

“I wouldn’t say I am immortal,” he took a drag from the cigar. The air filled with its heavy smell. “I once was a boy who grew up, and then, the ageing slowed down until it stopped, or I think.” When he looked at her, Y/N’s mouth kept hanging open. He put two fingers under her chin and helped her close her mouth. “Careful, or something will fly in there.” 

Their eyes met. Logan’s fingers rested under her chin longer than necessary. When he pulled away, she wanted to scream to put them back there. 

“So, both wars,” she tried to resume the topic. 

He wrinkled his nose. “Civil war, Korean war.” 

“Holy shit.” 

“Here’s the thing -  I don’t remember much. At some point, before I even came to the school, I lost my memory. Charles helped me restore some. There are big chunks of my past I still don’t know. I have concluded that it’s for the better.” 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” she said. 

“No, it’s fine,” he waved a hand. “If you can share bits and pieces, so can I.” 

When they arrived in Salem, it was after midnight. Logan decided to park the car farther away from the lab. It wouldn’t be wise to drive all the way there. Once they left the vehicle, they walked through a calm residential district. The lab was around a ten-minute walk from there. 

The air got colder, and the moon got lost behind the clouds. The wind rose. There were signs it was about to rain. 

“We’ll keep it simple, Y/N,” Logan started to talk, explaining the plan. “We will look around the perimeter and map the surroundings. We count the guards and the security cameras and then leave.” 

“What if-”

“No,” he stopped her. “I will not let you risk your life without a back-up. Last time, the place was packed with armed men. I don’t think that changed since then.” 

There was no point in arguing. “Fine.” 

When they approached the facility, the place looked almost similar when she left it. There was a part of the building demolished. It used to be her escape window. One of the locked mutants wrecked that side with their ability. And yet, it brought her a lot of unpleasant memories. Her stomach turned upside down. 

Together, they moved around the demolished side until they were met with an entrance gate. “What the shit?” Logan mumbled. At the gate were only two men with guns. “Last time, there were twenty of them,” he stated. “The roofs were covered with them. Now nothing.” 

Shouting came out of the demesne. Then, there was the sound of an engine. Logan grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her to him, making them hide behind a thick tree. He kept her close while they watched a military truck exit the facility. 

“The boy is not here,” Logan stated. “This place is not what it used to be a few weeks back. It’s strange. We got satellite pictures a few days ago, and this was still a highly secured facility.”

When the truck was gone, they moved forward. The wall that surrounded the building was destroyed in many places. They would be able to get with ease. Y/N’s eyes travelled around the building. She knew a way in. She could still remember the interior. 

“We should go. The boy is not here,” Logan ordered, reaching for her arm. 

“No, wait,” Y/N stopped him. “I think this is the perfect opportunity to go inside. So far, there are not many guards. The lab, where they kept us, is underground. At least, that was a month ago. We have the perfect opportunity to look around.” 

He gritted his teeth. “I told you I will not risk your life. It is dangerous.” 

“Then stay here,” she talked back. “I’m here. I need to know. Even if it is only a little bit.” 

Y/N started to run away from him, heading to the fallen wall that was not guarded by the men. Logan cursed under his nose. What was he expecting? That woman was stubborn as hell. Before he lost her, he decided to follow her. His conscience wouldn’t let him let her go alone.

Y/N was careful when she entered the estate and ran to the demolished part of the building. Peeking inside, she saw a destroyed room filled with bricks, wood and damaged furniture. The interior was dark. There was nothing useful for her. Her eyes noticed light coming from the other side. It was a hallway leading further into the compound. 

Her feet automatically took her there. She walked over the bricks and stones until she reached the hallway entrance. If she remembered correctly, it led to a security room. 

A hand gripped her above her elbow and pulled her back. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Her eyes found angry Logan standing close to her. 

“There is a security room down the hallway,” she whispered. “We will be able to see more.” 

“I am so pissed right now,” he growled. “We had a deal.” 

“If I see a chance, I will take it,” she spat back, trying to keep her voice low. “Now let me go. Please. I must know more.” 

As much as he hated it, Logan let her go. His claws got out, ready to be used if necessary. Logan walked close behind her, protecting her back. They reached the end of the hallway. 

“Shit,” she cursed. There were dead bodies on the floor, covered in blood. It felt like a slaughter room. The scent of copper hit her nose, and she wrinkled it. She observed the dead bodies and discovered they had many bullet wounds on their bodies. It was all fresh. “We’re not alone.” 

Logan started to sniff the air, sensing something was off. Y/N approached the screens and looked at all the cameras installed around the place. There was another military vehicle outside that they didn’t notice. More men surrounded it. They wore different uniforms than the dead men in the security room.

“They are here for something,” she commented as her eyes drifted from one screen to another. “They are here for JJ,” she gasped when she found a screen with JJ’s cell. 

Logan got to her to see with his own eyes. The eleven-year-old was sitting in the middle of a cage, visibly distressed. He had a white gown on. No other mutants were present. As they watched, they saw men come to him, pointing guns at the innocent child. 

Unexpected. That’s how it could be described. How was it possible that the last time Y/N saw him, they wanted to take him away, and now, he was here? None of this made sense. 

“Shit,” Logan gasped. He pointed at one of the soldiers who was closest to the camera. “They work for Trask. If they take him, he’ll sure be dead by the end of the week.” 

That was the push Y/N needed. Logan didn’t have the chance to react when she ran away from him, heading outside to the other military track. She was sure it was waiting there for JJ. 

Anger filled her veins, her whole body. Last time, she couldn’t help him escape. He got her out. She was too weak to return the favour. This time, Y/N was determined to get him out and destroy anyone who would dare to stop her. The deal she made with Logan was out the window. 

Y/N ran outside but hid behind the closest corner, watching. She waited for the window of opportunity. At least ten men kept guarding the vehicle. The back door was opened. Her heart was beating rapidly. Adrenaline was high. Fear knocked on the back of her head, telling her to run away and never look back. 

She potted JJ coming out of the building with a thick collar around his neck. The boy was almost bald and alarmingly bruised. Two big men guarded him by holding his shoulders from each side. Another three men were walking behind them, guns ready to shoot him in his head. 

What can she do with her protective power? It has some offensive moves, Y/N remembered the Professor’s words. They echoed inside her mind. She thought back to when her ability turned deadly. 

One last breath, and she ran towards the heavily armed men. The moment they discovered her presence, their guns were up, pointing at her. Y/N wrapped her body into a protective shield and rammed the men with it. 

Bullets were pointless. They weren’t able to penetrate the protective veil of blue. Y/N turned on her heel and faced the rest of the men. As much as they tried, no one could get through the forcefield. 

Two men grabbed JJ and moved with him away from the fight while the rest of them did everything in their power to kill Y/N. She kept knocking down the men like a house of cards. And then a roaring shout came from the right side. Logan’s claws penetrated the men’s bodies, slicing through them. Some managed to shoot him. 

“No,” Y/N shouted. For a moment, he forgot he was indestructible. And yet, she worried about him.

The usage of forcefield was draining her energy fast. The more she held it on, the weaker her body became. She ran towards the men who got JJ. “Let him go!” she screamed at them. “He’s a child!” 

They threw the boy on the ground hard, making him cry in pain. That’s when Y/N noticed the colourful bruises around his face, arms and legs. He looked sick and beaten. The gun was now pointed directly at his head. “Make a step, and I will kill him in front of your eyes!” 

Y/N didn’t make a move. Her eyes were fixed on the boy. “Let him go,” she said through gritted teeth. “He’s just a child. An innocent child that hasn’t lived enough.” 

Once Logan killed the last man, he walked closer to Y/N and the men. His adamantium claws were covered in blood, as were his t-shirt and the unbuttoned flannel shirt. When he discovered how the boy was close to being shot, he stopped in his tracks, breathing heavily. 

“Y/N,” JJ whispered her name. Tears gathered in his eyes. “Y-you came for me?” 

It broke her heart to see him like this. “Of course,” her voice shook. Her eyes moved back to the soldiers. “Let-him-go. I won’t ask again.” 

“No,” the soldier said strictly. “If you want the boy to live, you will let us leave with him.” 

The forcefield started to glitch a little. Everyone noticed it. Y/N had to focus harder to keep herself protected. One mistake and she could end dead. 

“What do you want with him?” Logan asked instead.

“That’s none of your business, mutant,” he barked. 

Y/N thought about her next move. Her head turned to bloodied Logan, who was breathing heavily. His body was ready to fight. The veins popped out of his neck and forearms. She sighed. Y/N got them into this mess, and she didn’t know what to do. 

“We need back up to Salem’s lab,” her ears registered one of the men talking to a walkie-talkie. “We have two other mutants on our radar. They are trying to get the boy. 

Her eyes blinked a few times. She didn’t have much time left. Y/N kept breathing through her nose. Deep inhale and long exhale. 

“Y/N,” she heard Logan’s concerned voice. 

Focus on the object you want to wrap in the forcefield and send the energy flying to it. That’s what the Professor told her last week during her training. Picture it. Project the vision onto it. 

Her eyes locked on JJ, who was shivering on the cold ground. With that collar around his neck, he looked like a slave. She could feel his fear. All she wanted was to protect him, keep him safe from this fucked up world. Her right hand stretched forward. In her mind, she pictured the boy wrapped around the veil, protecting his soul and body. 

That’s when she felt the energy leaving her body and covered the boy in a light blue and silver veil. For the first time, she created a forcefield around another person. When it happened, the man shot a bullet at him. It got absorbed into it. 

It was Logan’s cue to bolt out of his place and kill both of those fuckers who dared to hurt Y/N or the boy. Blood splashed around them, covering the grass and Logan. It took him a few slices, and it was over. Every soldier who wanted to kill them was dead. 

“Fuck,” Logan cursed and retracted the claws back under the skin. His eyes moved to the forcefield wrapped around the boy and glitching around her. She created two at the same time.

Y/N’s eyes got heavier. Something warm tickled her upper lip. She broke the energy. The veil disappeared from her and from the boy. She exhaled the last breath she held. Her knees gave up, and she fell to the ground. Her head was spinning. She felt this weak before when she escaped the lab. 

“Y/N,” Logan called her name when he fell to his knees next to her. He ran to her the moment she went down. He lifted her head and noticed her nose bleeding heavily. His big hands brushed her cheeks. He put a strand of hair behind her ear. “Look at me, bub. Come on, look at me.” 

“I’m,” she started to talk but failed. She gulped loudly and took a deep breath. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re bleeding,” he wiped the blood with the sleeve of his flannel shirt. It didn’t help much. “Can you walk? We need to move. More will come. We must leave.” 

She blinked a few times. “Yeah, I guess. Get JJ, and we can go.” 

Logan helped her to her feet and made sure she was stable. He turned to the boy who was kneeling on the ground watching them. “You alright, kid?” he eyed the child, checking if he wasn’t bleeding as well. Fear was evident on his face. “I will not gonna hurt ya,” his voice got softer. 

JJ got up on his feet and ran towards Y/N, throwing himself into her weak embrace. “You came for me,” he cried. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” her voice broke, and she kissed his head. “You are safe now, JJ. Logan and I will take you to a safe place.”

As much as he hated to ruin the moment, Logan stepped to them. His ears registered the sound of helicopters in the air. “We need to move. Now.” 

Y/N grabbed the boy’s hand, and they ran away from the facility and into the woods. Logan was two steps behind them, making sure they were moving. His eyes were more fixed on Y/N than on the boy. 

Suddenly, her body bumped into a tree. She had to stop and take a few breaths. Everything was shaking, and her vision got blurry. “Shit,” mumbled. She looked at the boy, then at Logan, frowning. Why were there two of each? 

The woods spun in front of her eyes. It took her a few seconds before she pushed her body off the tree and moved. Her hand never let go of JJ. This time, Logan’s arm found her waist. He kept it there for support. He didn’t want her to fall or hurt herself anymore. He could smell how drained she was. Logan held her until they reached the residential district.

“You good?” he asked her when they slowed down. 

“Just weak,” she replied. “It’s going to be okay. I’ve never held the forcefield for this long.” 

“You projected it around the boy, also. That’s a huge step,” he patted her shoulder. “I’m still pissed at ya,” he added.

“Sorry, not sorry.”

Logan turned around, eyes scanning the woods behind them. His instinct told him to move and leave. He smelled more soldiers searching for them. To their luck, the car was closer than anticipated. He unlocked the car and opened the door for the boy. “Get in,” he ordered. 

Y/N climbed into the passenger’s seat and closed the door with a loud thud. She moaned. The sound was too painful. Once Logan got in, they were on their way away from Salem and back to the school. 

The tension inside the car could be felt until they were far away from the residential district. All of them relaxed when they connected to a main road. 

Y/N reached for her backpack and took out her denim jacket. She took off her hoodie and handed it to JJ. “Put this on so you’re not cold.” 

“Thanks,” he sniffled a little and grabbed the hoodie. He was only wearing a thin white robe covered in dirt. His legs were exposed, and he was bare feet.

Logan saw what she was doing, so he turned on the heat inside the car. Y/N grabbed a bottle she bought at the gas station and handed it to JJ. Then she gave him a piece of the chocolate. “Here, drink and eat some chocolate. It’s all I have now.” 

She watched him from the rear-view mirror, drinking the water and eating the chocolate. Her shoulders relaxed, and she exhaled loudly. As if the stress escaped her body when she saw him alive and well. 

“Everyone’s gonna be pissed,” Logan stated after a while. His eyes were on the road, here and there, checking the boy in the mirror. 

“I don’t care,” Y/N whispered. Her body rested against the car seat, eyes closed. “We didn’t plan on this.”

“Sure,” he scoffed. 

“No, we didn’t,” she opened her eyes and glared at him. “I would have left if it weren’t for the fact that soldiers from Trask came for him. Besides, if I didn’t intervene, we would have lost him forever.” 

“You don’t-”

“You said it yourself,” she snapped. “If they took JJ, he’d be dead by the end of the week. This was our chance. I don’t care that you are upset, disappointed or whatever. It had to be done.” 

Logan hit the steering wheel out of frustration. “Goddamit, Y/N. It was reckless to head inside without thinking. It could have gone to shits if there were more men.” 

“Enough,” she stopped him. “It’s done. We have him. He’s alive, and we made it out of there. End of story.”

Y/n turned her head to the other side. It was a sign that the conversation was over. She noticed a faint reflection of herself in the window. There was dried blood under her nose, lips and chin. She tried to wipe it off with the sleeve of her denim jacket. It didn’t work much. 

“W-who are you?” they heard the boy’s soft voice. He was still afraid. 

“Logan,” he said. 

“Y-you have claws,” JJ stated. “So you are like us, right?” Logan only grunted. “Where are you taking me?” 

Y/N turned around and faced the boy. She put a smile on her face. Her hand reached for his cheek and stroked it. “We are taking you to a safe place for people like us. It’s a school for mutants.”

“School?” his eyes sparkled. “There is a school?”

“Yes,” Y/N nodded. “You will be able to live there and learn. Many children are living their lives there. They helped me, too. Logan saved me when I escaped the lab.” Her eyes filled with tears. She tried to hold the cry but couldn’t. “I’m sorry I left you there. I’m so sorry, JJ.”

His smaller hand reached for her hand on his cheek. “It’s okay. You came back.” 

“No, no, it’s not,” she cried. “You got us out. I will be forever thankful for that. It upsets me that I couldn’t do the same for you that day. It took me a month.” 

Logan felt the pain in Y/N’s voice. He bit his lower lip, trying to hold himself back and not reach for her. The anger he felt was gone. Logan wanted to put her into his arms and protect her whole being from the world. When he saw the tears running down her face, he sighed. His right hand reached for her face, and his thumb wiped off the tears under her left eye. 

Her eyes met his. The touch was gentle, filled with something unspoken, new. “He’s fine. We got him out.” 

All she managed to do was to nod. 

“How long until we are there?” Jerome asked. 

“Four hours,” Logan answered when his hand left Y/N’s cheek and turned his attention back to the road. “Rest, kid. We have a long way ahead.” 

He wrapped his arms around his body, trying to warm himself faster. Y/N’s hoodie helped. He even put the hood over his head. It yanked the collar around his neck. “What about this thing?” 

Y/N observed the device. There was a small green light. It meant it was on. “We’ll figure it out once we are at school. They will get it off you.” 

“What does it do again?” Logan asked. 

“It suppresses our mutation. JJ cannot use his power while the collar is on,” Y/N explained. 

“I can use the claws to slice through it,” he suggested. 

Jerome’s eyes widened, and he gasped. “No,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “It’s dangerous. We don’t know what would happen if you’d try to destroy it like that.” 

“Okay. We’ll let Hank and Jean have a look at it. They will figure something out.” 

[woodenanemone]

In my perspective, Choso is a man who could genuinely become lovesick and insane for you.

There’s nothing more that he seeks from life. You’re it. Tears fill his eyes in quiet moments when he thinks about just how lucky he is. How perfect you are for him. Just your pure existence alone brings the man to heaving breaths and panicked hands running through his hair, silently longing for his mind to just shut up and his heart to calm down. He’s… slightly terrified of you, actually.

Terrified of how unaffected he feels when thinking about hurting someone for you. Of the happiness he feels swell in his heart when he thinks about ending his own life to see a smile on your face. The sheer influence your eyes have over his body; how they increase the amount of blood running through his body, how they dot sweat across his hairline, creates a tremble in his lip and hands, the tears, oh the tears. They come in waves, when the realization that he is completely and wholly devoted to you hits him once again.

He’s also terrified of the power your lips have over his thoughts. It’s a little disturbing how often his mind will wander to the wonderful thing that is your lips. You make him want nothing more than to talk to you for hours on end— with the way your lips move, the way they form letters and words and sentences… he can’t stand the thought of him saying more than five words at a time. It’s truly just a waste of his breath if it’s taking away from the sight of your lips moving. His search history is full of questions such as “deep conversation prompts”, and “how to get someone talking for hours”. Watching your lips form such precious conversation that he stores deep in the crevices of his memory, can send the man into a fit of pure psychosis. The thought of your lips on his has yet to cross his mind; just the beauty and shape and color of your lips bring him to his knees on its own. But when it does, he has to physically hold his chest. It occurs when he’s watching a movie with Yuuji one night, the boy had long since fallen asleep on the armchair, leaving Choso to view the film he had no sort of desire to see, but had yet to switch off. He couldn’t care to remember the name, something corny. But when he saw the female actress pull the male actor into an embrace, her hands spread across his cheeks as she brought him towards her— their faces drew together slowly, his eyes flickering from her eyes to her lips, Choso found himself leaning forward on the couch, eyebrows slightly furrowing in anticipation. And there was a pause. A pause between the two actors, before their lips laid on the other’s.

A short breath of air escaped the man as he stared at this seemingly private moment, but he couldn’t look away. The way the man’s hands slithered up to cup her face so carefully, tilting his head to get more of her, to feel more of her… oh he couldn’t take it. Choso quickly switched off the TV, as if it offended him, staring at the black screen as he reflected on what he had just witnessed. Sure, he was familiar with kisses. He had accidentally seen a young couple or two wrestling with their tongues in an all too inappropriate setting. He’d always avert his eyes quickly, feeling uncomfortable and invasive. But he’s never seen it like that. Although it was shot with a script in mind, the care and the intimacy in that kiss were too heartbreaking for him at that moment, he had to clutch the skin above his heart in fear that the rapid rhythm would soon kill him. The fact that it was nothing more than a job for them, and yet there was still that amount of passion—but as he continued to think and reflect, the actors’ lips morphing into his own, and the actresses into yours— he let out an audible sound of agony, throwing his back against the back of the couch, finding himself mourning over the loss of his free will over his heart, his life. Saddened for the loss of his sanity, feeling nothing but joy at your control of his soul… he knew that was far from sane thinking.

Those lips, paired with your voice, oh he’s genuinely going to throw up. He gets sick at the sound of his own voice at some point. The fact that he’s speaking right now, as is in he’s preventing your pretty voice from filling the air and blessing his ears, is truly sickening. He wishes he could just transport his responses and conversation prompts into your brain, so you never have to pause your talking. He could never get bored of your talking. Every word you speak, every thought you convey, every joke that you tell (that sometimes flies over his head. but he laughs anyway.) is kept away in his poor, aching heart for safekeeping, he adores every single sound out of your lips. He knows there are times where you don’t want to speak, and that’s more than okay with him. He’ll gladly fill in the air with nonsense, or let the silence keep its place in the room, he doesn’t mind. The communication between your eyes is enough to fill the conversation for both of you.

He stares a lot. Like… a lot. But he can’t help it, and he’s certainly not going to stop. How could he just ignore your presence like that? To ignore your deep eyes, the curve of your nose, the sweet color of your lips, and the rise of your throat as you swallow your dinner would be a transgression he wouldn’t dare commit. It’s an insult to you and to himself to look away from you. The overpowering beauty that is you is an art that must be gazed upon, and to be admired. To be awed at. To be wept over, to be absolutely crazy about. And he was all of the above. He doesn’t even realize he’s staring at you far too long than what’s considered normal. It’s like you’re a character on a screen, and he’s a hopeless viewer, gushing over how addicting this character is, obsessively creating fantasies full of you you you, unable to break free of your voice, the shape of your face, the sight of your smile. But he isn’t a spectator, he’s here, he’s with you, and you’re with him. He can touch you (if he so dared… he doesn’t think he has the heart to invade your personal space.), he can speak to you, and you can respond. The realization that you’re not a silly figment of his imagination, or cast for a role on a screen he can only spectate, sends him into a spiral.

You control everything about him. Every thought, every pump of his enslaved heart, every tear that falls from his lovesick eyes, is all for you. You carry his heart, soul, and very existence in those (precious, pretty, delicate, oh he just wants to kiss every knuckle—) hands of yours. He’d beg for you, he would get on his hands and his knees and put his head to the ground as he just pleads for you… anything you wanted, he’d do it. You torment his life, his very being, and he craves for more.

He’s yours, he’s yours.

im soo normal about choso el oh el

[pasdasin]

Wicked Game

wolverine x vampire!reader

an: omgg I am so happy yall like this! thank you for almost 100 notes!! If you want to be added to my tag list pls comment and ill do my best!! Remember Logan beefs with Alex Summers not Scott bc Scott is my son (dofp casting)

ch 2

warnings: mentions of blood, needles, generic doctor stuff, cussing i think, angst, poor reader :(

previous -- next

~~~~~

The next day you were sitting the in teachers break room, listening to Hank and Charles debate on what to do for the annual end of year movie night. Both options sounded boring, a basic slasher and some movie about a train. You turned to your right to look at your other close friend, Storm. 

“I heard Scott learned Dracula was about you” She hummed, bored of the debate as well. “I was wondering if you finally would tell your version of events?” You turned to look at her and pierced your lips. Thinking about the choice before you. It would be nice to get to talk about it, but at the same time you didn’t see it as fair to only do it since you brought it up to tease the boy. 

“I’m not su-” “She’ll do it” You turned harshly to the voice behind you and not surprisingly it was Logan. 

“Are you serious?” You pushed his arm away as his tried to lower it down on your shoulder. 

“What are you not proud to be a vampire?” 

“I am not a vampire” You grumbled looking back to Storm, who was also starting to get over this conversation. “Yeah sure whatever” She smiled and squeezed your arm as a thank you before leaving the two of you alone. 

Logan looked down at you and smiled. “I ate some broccoli today.”

“Wow. I’m impressed it wasn’t also soaked in scotch”

“Well I didn’t say that” You giggled at his response. You decided to get more comfortable under his arm, sinking into his side. Turning your attention back to Charles and Hank who finally agreed to a movie. The Breakfast Club. As they reached the decision, Alex Summers entered the room. 

Alex Summers was everything he was supposed to be. Kind, tall, handsome. The school girl crush of almost every girl that attended the school. He was calm, he was smart, he was caring, and he hated it. 

“Oh hey y/n.” He always wanted to be with you. You felt Logan tense up against you, his face contorting into an annoyed expression.

“Watch it bub” Logan said, staring at him intensely. You instinctively scratched his back to help him relax.

“Hi Alex! You need to stop by my office later for your check up.” You reminded him cheerfully. Alex thanked you for the reminder, promising to see you before Logan pulled you up with him and out of the lounge. In fact he managed to somehow pull you along out of that section of the mansion before he finally let go of you. 

“Dude what is your problem”

“I don’t like him”

“Yeah no shit.” You remarked, causing him to look down at you and raise an eyebrow. 

“I also don’t like when your sassy.” He poked your forehead with his finger, causing your face to scrunch up. “Besides your giving a presentation about your life, you need to make good on that promise” 

“I didn’t know you cared so much”

“I don’t” Oh. There it was. The fatal rejection that you have experienced from him over and over again. You looked down at the floor, muttering something about finding Storm and hurriedly walked away. He had hurt you for centuries. Your mind, body, and soul yearned for him and yet his own chased another. He had to know at this point. He just wanted to tease you until you couldn’t take it. Unfortunately for you, you had always shown him tolerance. 

Your walk was cut short as you bumped into Storm, who informed you that you were gonna “spill the beans” the next day, leaving you to walk back to your office and get ready for Alex to get his check up. 

As you prepped the trays you needed for his appointment, the all too familiar voice of Alex filled the room.

“Hello doctor,” He said in a flirty tone, cheering you up slightly. 

“Hi Alex, sit down here” You patted the bench and started the procedure. It was just a normal check up. He talked to you about his brother and his upcoming mission. Saying how he will miss his hot doctor when he left for Europe. 

It made you chuckle as you placed the stethoscope on his inner elbow, focusing once again on the sound and patterns of his blood. He watched you intently as you nodded your head along as if some kind of melody was playing and he was producing it. Your eyes were closed and your eyebrows furrowed together before you relaxed and smiled up at him.

“You're all good. Beautiful blood” He thank you before placing a blow pop he kept in his pocket in his mouth and walked out of your office. As the door shut, you started to clean and pack away your personal belongings. Putting the last needle into the biohazard box, you moved to turn off the lights when Charles wheeled into your office.

“Hello y/n. I need to ask you a favor”

~~~~~

tag list: @captain039

[internet-rat]

Illumi x wife!reader

Just a bit of fluff because my scary boy needs some love

No warnings~

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You had been sleeping when you felt silky hair graze your cheek. You opened your eyes and saw the pale figure stare down at you with his large dark eyes. To anyone else it would seem like a scene from a horror movie. A pale being with long dark hair hovering over someone who was sleeping. But you smiled, because you knew your husband was home from a contract. You reach your hand up and stroke his soft cheek.

Illumi's large, unblinking eyes continued to bore into yours, yet no hint of malice or aggression tainted his gaze. It was almost as if he could see into the very depths of your soul, understanding every nuance of your being. His stoic visage didn't change at your touch, yet the slightest softening around his eyes might indicate that he welcomed it, appreciated it even.

"Missed me?" Illumi's voice was a quiet murmur, the words a velvet whisper against the silent backdrop of the night. It was difficult to tell if the question was rhetorical or if he was genuinely curious about your feelings.

His hand, slender and almost ghostly pale, reached up to where your hand caressed his cheek. His fingertips brushed against yours, a surprisingly gentle touch from someone so skilled in the art of killing. He seemed to contemplate your hand for a moment before bringing it to his lips, pressing a chill kiss to the back of your palm, his eyes never leaving yours.

His soft kiss sends the good kind of chills through your body. He was strange, your husband. It was like he was more like a creature than a human. He was the kind of person who would dig a hole in the ground to sleep in if he needed rest on a mission. He could use his needles to turn people into puppets, and he could use needles to transform his appearance too. He was unnerving and uncanny, but you loved him for it.

"Of course I missed you... I always do when you are gone," you softly reply. It was the truth too. You did always miss him.

"I see," Illumi responded, his voice maintaining that same monotone yet carrying an almost unseen layer of warmth within its timbre. The idea that you missed him seemed to lodge itself in his mind, a concept both foreign and intriguing.

He slowly withdrew his hand from yours, his touch lingering like a ghost as he moved. Then, with movements that were methodical and deliberate, he allowed his long body to hover just above yours as if he was cautious not to disturb you more than he already had.

His inky black hair, a stark contrast to the softness of the pillow and the pale moonlight spilling into the room, fanned out as he lowered his head closer to yours. "When I am gone, do you think of me?" he questioned, the pupils of his eyes swallowing the irises, making them seem like endless pits of curiosity.

As he asked the question, his hand moved to rest against your cheek, almost as though he was memorizing the feel of your skin against his own. His closeness was both intimidating and intimate, a duality that only Illumi could embody so perfectly. "Because when I am away, completing contracts... I think of this. Of returning to you." The notion seemed to please him, a sliver of satisfaction hidden beneath layers of his enigmatic facade.

His gaze remained locked with yours, as if trying to see beyond the physical, to understand the essence of the emotion you had expressed. It was a silent exchange, one where words were cumbersome compared to the volumes spoken in the silence.

You could not help but to blush and smile at how sweet he was being. "I think of you all the time when you are away, and when you return to me it makes me so very happy," you reply earnestly.

The faintest trace of a smile seemed to threaten the corners of Illumi's stoic mouth at your words, though it never fully manifested. His expression remained an almost impassive mask, yet there was a subtle change in his eyes – the black pools that might have been cold in another context now appeared deep and contemplative, as if your happiness had become a puzzle he yearned to solve.

"Happy..." he echoed your word, as if tasting it on his lips, considering its meaning. His hand shifted, the long fingers threading through your blonde locks, a faint sense of wonder lacing his movements as he explored the silky texture of your hair. "Your happiness is... important. I understand that now."

He leaned in closer, his face hovering just inches from yours, the cool breath from his words brushing against your skin. "I will continue to return to you. Each mission, each assignment... they are but interludes. You are where my path concludes."

Illumi's gaze bore into yours, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed as though he was peeling back the layers of his calculated exterior to reveal a glimpse of something raw, something undeniably human. "I am not skilled in expressiveness, but know that your presence... it anchors me."

And with that rare admission, Illumi's lips found your forehead in a tender kiss, an action devoid of any nefarious intent, simple yet profound in its sincerity. It was clear that, in his own way, the assassin who could manipulate others so easily was, in turn, wholly affected by your mere existence.

[imgeekgirlfan]

The Curse of Cassandra│(Qimir x Reader)

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary: Being a prophet is both a gift and a curse; you see the future and you’re burdened with the weight of knowing that every decision you make could shape or destroy entire universe, with the overwhelming pressure that the fate of the galaxy hinges on your choice, and every path fraught with sacrifice.

Status: work in progress (This is a long fanfic that will be about 10+ chapters.)

A/N : I'm thai and english isn't my first language (sorry for the broken English)

This fic exists 'cause I got high (thanks to weed!). So my work's full of random shit in many ways. But I hope you'll dig it.

I got inspo from novels and movies I'm obsessed with: Dune, Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, Blue Eye Samurai, and Anne Carson's Cassandra Float Can. (Hence the title "The Curse of Cassandra," linking to the Greek myth)

It's a mash-up of different universes, not just Star Wars, with a lot of tweaks for my storyline. If you want fanfic that strict Star Wars canon, this fic isn't for you.

Also, diversity FTW! the reader in this fic isn't white, she's a SEA woman, we gonna representing ASEAN pride.

➡  EP : I // EP : II // EP : III // EP : IV // EP : V // EP : VI // EP : VII

[Intro] A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away

What fate could be worse? 

Being captured by Jedi 

Or being hunted by Sith

You close your eyelids, frowning at the stabbing sensation creeping into your brain. It's always like this when you try to sink into the stream of time, pondering what's yet to come. The price for this wicked foresight is torment of both body and soul, intensifying as your senses expand.

You see, you hear, you feel. The moisture in the air, the sound of water droplets hitting the ground, the wind rustling through the grass, the capillaries in your nasal cavities twisting and rupturing before blood gushes from your nose.

As you casually wipe away the red fluid with the back of your hand, you suddenly realize certain truths that have always been part of you. 

You are an aberration, something repulsive. An Abomination. 

And abominations must be eliminated—so they say.

You let out a long sigh, allowing your mind to drift through the past, present, and future—every possible event and situation. You watch it all with a numb mind, as if you've seen the same movie hundreds or thousands of times, a movie whose ending you already know well.

Yet there's one thing you still don't know: which ending will the path you're on now lead to?

Something pulls you out of your meditation, coinciding with the moment you sense someone's piercing gaze openly fixed upon you. That man is watching you from the shadows behind a large tree, not with malicious intent but with curiosity mixed with several other complex emotions too ambiguous to explain.

You remain seated in meditation at the same spot, amidst the blood and corpses of the Jedi, not daring to move, almost forgetting even to breathe.

You are the last one still breathing, the final victim of the Jedi massacre carried out by the mysterious Sith—The Stranger who is now closely observing you.

His face is completely hidden beneath a dark, twisted metal mask. Yet you can still feel his gleaming eyes surveying your body, as far as sight allows, focusing excessively, even invasively.

The curiosity in his mind is so intense that you find yourself trembling.

You see visions of what might happen—there's a high chance he'll rush in to slice you to pieces with his red lightsaber, searching for secrets or whatever might be hidden inside your body. Or he might subjugate you with his Force, using his power to penetrate your mind, deep into your subconscious, hoping to taste the forbidden fruit of secrets that you alone possess.

But he will never know, as long as you don't wish him to.

The scent of death hangs heavy in the air as heavy footsteps crunch over gravel, approaching you slowly, like a predator toying with its prey. You freeze, every muscle in your body tense, as you face the tall figure in dark robes, his visage concealed behind a strange metal mask carved into a distorted smile.

For a moment, this man reminds you of the grim reaper from ancient religious myths that vanished thousands of years ago.

He is the harbinger of death everywhere he goes, including your own death

Awareness strikes like a warning signal. Various possibilities flash through your memory, similar to how a dying person recalls everything that happened in their life.

You instantly realize how crucial this moment is. This is an incredibly fragile juncture. 

There's a fifty percent chance he'll kill you, and another fifty percent chance he'll spare your life. 

Fear spreads throughout your flesh, imprinting itself on your soul, turning your blood ice-cold. Your pulse races with panic. 

You take a deep breath, quickly focusing, trying hard to regain control of your shaken mind. "I must not fear," you mutter to yourself, the same phrase your mother used to teach you as a child. "Fear is the mind-killer, fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration..." 

A low, hoarse laugh escapes from behind the metal mask. Clearly, he heard what you said. "Oh, I think you should fear," he says, his words teetering between mockery and sarcasm.

You know he wants you to fear because, for the Sith, fear leads to power.

 You do the opposite, swallowing the lump of fear in your throat, maintaining a calm demeanor as you force a faint smile for the person before you. 

"Humans fear what they don't know, just as they fear me, and just as they fear you." You pause momentarily, carefully considering your final sentence, which could determine your fate. 

Finally, you speak, firm and unwavering, "But I know you, so I do not fear." 

There's a fifty percent chance he'll kill you, and another fifty percent chance he'll spare your life—this thought returns to your mind once more.

He had always kept his secret well, never letting anyone who knew his true identity survive.

'Why does this woman know who I am?' He must have thought.

You know well that your revelation will bring about an end that changes everything, both for better and for worse.

This is the gamble you've already placed your bet on, for this purpose and for this moment.

The lightsaber hilt in his hand remains tightly closed, showing no sign of the red flame that has taken countless lives. He kneels before you, his action clearly revealing vulnerabilities in his body. You could easily grab the lightsaber from the Jedi's corpse and behead him in one stroke.

But you don't kill him, just as he doesn't kill you.

You look into his eyes, he looks into yours, gauging each other in silence.

His large hand reaches beneath his mask, unlocks the mechanism, and slowly removes it, revealing the familiar face in your sight.

His face is sharp in every proportion, with messy jet-black hair. His eyes, once gentle when touched by sunlight, now cold as ice, contrast starkly with the smile slowly spreading wide, in the same fashion as the smile on the mask he wore earlier.

"Qimir"

His name sounds strange when you utter it, as if it's not a name you're familiar with, and the man before you is not the man you know.

The man chuckles softly and moves even closer, cutting off any chance for you to escape. You swallow hard, trying to turn your face away from his intense gaze. But he doesn't let you. His fingers, wet with others' blood, dig into both of your cheeks, pressing hard enough to hurt, forcing you to look only at him.

"Surprised?" He leans in closer, his hot breath on your face, and whispers softly in your ear, "I told you, you can't run away from me."

[aesethewitch]

Ghosts 101

Spirit work has always been the ultimate base of my spiritual and magical practices. Some of my earliest clear memories are of encounters with spirits, and I’ve always had a talent for sensing them. In a horror movie setting, I’d be that person who gets the weird feeling in the hallway right before all the doors slam shut at once, feeling the shift in the air before whatever ghoul’s around makes its mischief.

I mention this right out of the gate so that you, the reader, know that most of what I know about ghosts (and spirits in general) comes from personal experience. Not books, not videos, not other people’s work. There’s a lot of UPG in this little essay. Just keep that in mind as you read.

If there’s something you disagree with or have different experiences with, I’m not surprised! Everything in the realm of spirits, including ghosts, can really only be theorized about. Disagreeing opinions, experiences, and theories are very, very welcome. Drop ‘em in the replies, reblogs, or my inbox. Or, if you want, make a post of your own and tag me in it. I want to see them!

Anyways, with that lengthy UPG disclaimer out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff.

What is a Ghost?

I think it’s important to note, though kind of obvious, that ghosts are a sub-category of spirit. All ghosts are spirits, but not all spirits are ghosts. But what is a ghost, exactly?

As with most things, theories differ. In general, ghosts are thought to be… well, dead people. Some folks think that ghosts are the soul, essence, or spirit of a person who has died. Others believe that ghosts are just a fragment of a person’s spirit. But I’ve also seen theories stating that ghosts aren’t really ghosts, they’re echoes or imprints of human energy that once existed in a place.

Then, there are folks who think ghosts don’t exist at all. I can’t really blame them; empirical, repeatable proof of ghosts is tough to get in order to be satisfying in a scientific way. The only reason I personally believe in ghosts is because I’ve had several encounters that can’t otherwise be explained. Plus, for me, it goes hand-in-hand with other types of spirit work. Ghosts being real just makes sense with the framework I use to engage with the world.

So, obviously, there isn’t one single, concrete answer as to what a ghost is. We can only theorize.

My Theories

My personal theory aligns more or less with one of the more common theories. I think that ghosts are the lingering spirits of living beings who have died. Note I say living beings — some people think that only humans can become ghosts, but I think that any living thing can become one. In the case of plants and trees, ghosts behave somewhat differently than animals; but that’s a whole other conversation to be had. For the sake of this post, I plan on focusing mainly on human ghosts.

The way I understand it, ghosts are the whole, complete essence of a person that lingers in the physical realm for a time after their physical body no longer functions. I believe there are also energetic imprints — energy left over from the living, often (but not always) caused and fueled by strong emotions and lingering ties of memory in a place. These imprints can seem like a haunting, but the key difference is that they aren’t sentient. They may echo when you call, but they won’t give answers that are intelligent or timely according to questions asked or stimulus provided by the living. Sort of like recording a ringing bell; playing the bell’s chime back doesn’t ring the bell again. It just plays the sound it knows.

Now, death does funny things to the mind. Depending on the circumstances of the death, a ghost might have full awareness that they were alive, have died, and are now a ghost. I find this is most common for people who died of old age and long-term diseases: people who knew they were nearing the end, for one reason or another.

Ghosts formed from more sudden deaths, on the other hand, are likelier to not know what happened. They may figure it out given time, or they may never learn the truth. As with most other things dealing with individuals, the exact circumstances vary. No two ghosts are exactly the same. Some people don’t become ghosts at all, I’ve found! They simply move on.

Another important aspect of my theories on ghosts is that I think they fade. Unless they’re continually tied to a space, fed a steady supply of energy, and purposely kept in the physical realm, I believe that they can’t sustain a form here. Without a physical body to keep the spirit, soul, consciousness, or whatever we are, a ghost is gradually pulled into the more ethereal side of things. The astral plane, the other side, the afterlife, et cetera; I’m not sure, personally, where they end up. Maybe it depends on what they were attached to in life, maybe it doesn’t. Who knows!

I think this is where I draw the distinction between ghosts and ancestor spirits. “Ancestor spirits,” in my practice, aren’t individual people from my past. Rather, they’re a sort of collective consciousness made up of all the people who came before me who are connected to me through familial, cultural, and blood ties. I like to believe that ghosts become part of that collective when they fade out of the physical world. All this is to say, ghosts are just people who are dead. They won’t be around forever unless they’re bound and kept “fed.”

On Hauntings

The first half of the things everyone wants to know is: How do we know when a ghost is actually present? It’s a good question, one that’s hotly debated in ghost hunting circles. For the sake of argument, I think we need to define the word haunting first.

To be clear, a haunting isn’t just when a ghost is present. A ghost just passing through or lingering for a little while doesn’t necessarily make a haunting. That would be better described as a presence. A haunting, in my opinion, is a long-term, sustained presence of a ghost or imprint.

And the first step to dealing with a haunting is to determine whether the place you’re in is actually haunted. You don’t have to have super sensitive psychic powers to detect the presence of ghosts. Some folks might have an easier time of it than others, but anyone can learn how to discern when a ghost is hanging around.

It’s important to note that commonly-reported signs of ghost presences and hauntings are also symptoms of other issues like mold, electrical issues, pressure changes, carbon monoxide, stress and anxiety, noisy neighbors, animals outside or in the walls (including bugs), sleep apnea or insomnia, and more. It’s important to consider mundane reasons before leaping to magical, spiritual, or ghostly ones.

With that in mind, let’s say that you’ve ruled out all the mundane possibilities, and you’re still left wondering whether that place is capital-H Haunted. How can you tell?

In my experience, there are a few signs that will stick out:

Disembodied sounds, such as voices, knocking, and walking

A pervasive chill or prickling feeling, particularly on parts of the body that are covered

A feeling of being touched, poked, or prodded

Visual disturbances like mist or shadows

Sudden smells that can’t be explained, such as perfume, tobacco, or food

Batteries in things like phones and cameras draining very quickly

Now, note that even with these signs, a lot of these things can happen with spirits that aren’t ghosts. The only way to know for absolutely sure that you’re dealing with a ghost and not a mischievous, physical-realm-poking non-human spirit is to make contact and ask.

My fellow sensitive individuals may experience other signs during a haunting. Depending on where your abilities lie, you might experience stronger sensations or detect signs of a haunting earlier than others who haven’t trained these senses.

What Causes a Haunting?

It’s hard to say. Some people (particularly ghost hunters with big TV shows who need to make those viewer numbers go up) say that ghosts stick around because they’re pissed off or had some tragedy befall them in life. Trauma ties them to their surroundings, trapping them between life and death as a specter, or something like that.

Honestly, all that tells me is that these guys are trying to sell you something (their show). I’ve met maybe two ghosts that were like that, and they had extremely good reasons for it. That’s not to say there aren’t traumatized ghosts out there; just that they aren’t nearly as common or the only explanation for a haunting.

I’m personally not sure what causes some ghosts to linger over others. I think it does partly have to do with emotion, but it may also have to do with the amount of energy the person had left when they died. For example, the ghost of my great-aunt faded within a couple weeks after she died, because she was old, tired, and ready. On the other hand, the ghost of a guy I went to school with who died in an accident a few years ago is still lingering on the train tracks where it happened. It’s an extremely individual thing.

Another part of lingering ghosts and hauntings, I think, is interaction with the living. Without a physical body, the ghost has no native source of energy. Part of working with ghosts, for me, has been learning how to share energy (mine or from other sources) with ghosts to help them communicate, interact, and continue existing. When the energy runs out, they fade. With a steady supply of energy sources, a ghost could theoretically haunt a place indefinitely.

So, what causes a haunting? I don’t really know for sure! What causes a haunting to linger? A steady source of energy, I think.

Making Contact

So, you want to talk to a ghost. Cool! You’ve got a ton of options at your disposal.

There are the witch-typical methods of spirit communication, most of which would work fairly well for talking to ghosts. I’ve talked a little bit about spirit communication methods before in a more general sense, but I find that ghosts don’t always respond well to divination.

In my experience, simpler tools are better. Unless I knew for a fact that a person understood tarot in life, I would be unlikely to use it to talk to their ghost. Tools you can easily explain that provide clear answers would likely serve you best for most ghosts. My biggest suggestions are pendulums, which are easy for ghosts to understand and manipulate, and ouija boards. Yes, yes, I can hear the gasping and booing already.

Listen. Ouija boards are not evil. Ouija is a game. But talking boards really are good tools for talking to ghosts. Again, they’re easy to understand and manipulate. Plus, you can get really clear answers from a talking board if your ghost is chatty.

There are other tools that have been popularized by ghost hunters that may come in handy, too. Personally, I’ve had success with voice recorders catching EVP (electronic voice phenomena) and, on one notable occasion, a ghost box.

Honestly, I’ve had little use for tools like these outside of ghost hunting scenarios where we’re trying to prove ghosts’ existence in a scientific sense. Voice recorders catching wisps of voice in the background are super cool, and I definitely would suggest having one on hand when doing a ghost adventure. But they’re not great for in the moment communication, since you have to stop a recording to listen back to it and then react who knows how long later.

Where ghost boxes are concerned, I’ve only had the one opportunity to try it out. We were in a location I knew to be haunted thanks to previous visits, and it did seem to work okay. I’d like to try it again sometime to see if it was just a fluke or if it’s an actual, viable thing to use. With any tool commonly used in ghost hunting TV shows (or that’s otherwise Popular By Spectacle), I always approach with serious skepticism. Those shows are all about creating a reaction that can be captured; and when they don’t receive a response, they’re liable to make shit up for the cameras. It’s annoying, especially when a tool might really be useful but it’s shrouded in the very necessary skepticism around these shows.

Now, my personal go-to method to connect to ghosts is to just… talk to them. I don’t usually need to use any tools for it. But I’ve spent many, many, many years honing the skills needed to do this. It’s worth learning how to do if you plan on working with spirits, but it does take effort to get good at, even if you have an innate talent for it. If you can, take some time to develop a sense for spirits. Learn what spiritual presences feel like for you. You may not get immediate results at first, but the skill of sensing energy can apply across the board. And even if you get no “real” response, you can still talk to the ghosts.

When you go to communicate with a ghost, just remember that they’re still a person. They’re not a spectacle, though they are fascinating. Not all ghosts are going to want to talk to you. Not all ghosts are going to like you. Be respectful. Treat that ghost like you’d treat any stranger out in the wild. Don’t be an asshole.

On Mediumship

This is mostly just a brief note, since it’s an adjacent topic that I’ve gotten questions about before.

Not everyone who talks to or works with ghosts is a medium. A medium is a particular career or path that describes someone who acts as a connector between the living and the dead. I tend to think of mediums as the telephone in a conversation — relaying messages back and forth. I used to do medium work all the time. It’s an exhausting path that requires a lot of self-discipline and solid boundaries dealing with both the living and the dead. I don’t do it anymore, though I do still communicate and work with ghosts regularly.

Just keep in mind that you don’t have to take on the title or mantle of “medium” in order to talk to, work with, or research ghosts.

Ghostly Q&A

I received a handful of questions about ghosts in the run up to posting this; thank you everyone who sent in a question! If you’ve got a question and want my perspective on it, feel free to drop it in my inbox or in the replies/reblogs of this post.

From @moonmargaritas: “How do you tell the difference between nervousness at discerning the presence of a ghost (new practitioner who still gets jitters 🤙) and sensing actual hostile intent?”

This is a really great question! This is something I had to work through myself when I got started. And honestly, I still get jitters sometimes many years later! It can be scary, even when you’re used to it.

The biggest piece of advice I have is to learn how your body experiences nervousness or anxiety. Where does that sit in your body? What kind of feelings to you experience?

For me, nervousness is a sort of itchy tingling around my shoulders and tightness around my ribs. It also manifests as the feeling of being watched or observed too closely. It’s easy to misattribute those feelings to a ghost’s presence — tingling and feeling like something’s watching? Those are classic ghost interactions! But I know that’s what anxiety feels like. That’s how I feel when the lights go out too fast or I hear a branch snap in the distance.

Once you know, you can work past those feelings and focus on what’s actually happening with the ghost (or spirit). I think of it like knowing when someone’s mad at me. Are they mad, or am I just anxious? It’s the same idea.

And, as a note, ghosts with hostile intent are few and far between. I personally don’t think that most ghosts, even the nastiest ghosts, can actually hurt you; they don’t have the energy resources for it. The ones that do are obvious, and you won't really have to question their intentions. However, you can always work with the communication methods mentioned above to determine the ghost’s feelings and intents. If you’re worried about negative interactions, a bit of salt and rosemary in a little pouch placed in your pocket goes a long way for protection.

From anonymous: “What’s an unusual way people could use to communicate with spirits? Like an expected divination tool or something we should pay more attention to.”

Hmmmm! Honestly, I think that classic, actual call and response is underrated specifically when it comes to ghosts. Yeah, we’ve all seen the Ghost TV Guys call out for a knock or a word or whatever, but when they get a response, they wig out and don’t do anything with it. It’s annoying!! Because genuinely, saying “tap once for yes, twice for no” and asking questions is a really, really solid way to communicate with a ghost when you have no other tools that will work on hand. I’ve had ghosts lead me to important places and objects within houses doing this. I think more people should give it a try without falling prey to the over-the-top reaction of “DID YOU HEAR THAT?!”

From anonymous: What advice would you give someone dealing with a haunting?

For a run-of-the-mill, regular old haunting? Let it run its course. Most hauntings, when left alone, will fade. However, if you’re inclined to talk to the ghost(s), get them to leave quicker, or get them to be less intrusive in your life, there are a few things you could do.

To talk to them, choose a method of communication and try to reach out like I described above. Get to know them if you can, and set some ground rules. If they won’t (or can’t) communicate with you, and you really want them gone, I would probably recommend a gentle banishing ritual. Something that doesn’t scream “get out” so much as kindly say, “It’s time to move on.”

Or, if you don’t want the ghost gone, just a little quieter at night or out of your bedroom, you could set up wards or activity-dampeners around specific spaces. Choose ingredients and spells that protect against unwanted spirits or just unwanted activity. Keep it activated all day long or just at night while you’re trying to sleep.

Thanks for Reading!

Posts like this are usually put on my Ko-Fi as exclusives first, but since the questions in this one came from Tumblr, I decided to post it in both places at once! (:

With that said, if you did enjoy this post, consider throwing a couple dollars at my tip jar. Tips, commissions, and shop purchases get you 30 days of access to my entire backlog of exclusive posts and upcoming ones. Monthly members get continuous access plus extra benefits! All support helps me keep the lights on, so it's very much appreciated.

If you've got Ghost Questions, shoot 'em my way! My inbox is open.

[kissoulie]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒

𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧

— NSFW, MDNI. being in love with soul ♡

warnings: not proofread, odd amount of minecraft references, implied that they met underage but all physical activity happens when both are adults, idol!soul, gender neutral for the most part

nsfw: fem-body in mind but can be read as gn (imo) mild voyeurism, some roughness, overall pretty tame

a/n: i wrote this while doing a harry potter marathon so it's not the best 😭 might make it a series tbh, one movie = one being in love with [piwon]. joking, mostly. work has been ass this week ngl and i work again tmrw buttttttt i will be able to dedicate at least 5hrs to delusion after i pick up some conditioner 🫶 who knows maybe i'll lock in and get it done by the 1st (i probably won't)

1. first meetings

soul is the type of person who would be your friend first. one of your very best friends, actually. if you aren't childhood friends, you would be someone he met by chance. at a store, cafe, a park. no matter what, you would be the one to approach him. striking up a conversation about an interest you both share. soul would take a liking to you immediately, opening up gradually, meeting you as often as his schedule allows. he would eventually have to introduce you to the members, and start bringing you over to the dorm. he's getting recognized. going out was becoming a chore for both of you. besides, you've been friends for a while, it's only natural the next step is hanging out in each other's personal space.

after years of your bond, soul finds both of you in his bed after a long day of practice. he wasn't sure what was up wirh you. normally, you wouldn't insist on seeing him after practice. you knew he was tired. for an hour, you'd been clinging to him, head tucked into the crook of his neck. he didn't need words from you. yet, anyways. he just needed to know you're okay. "my treasure," he whispers, "what's wrong?"

your fingers tighten their hold on his shirt. those soft eyes of his, they melt you. "i just had a bad day."

mhmmmm. soul's hand finds itself pressed against your lower back, pulling you onto his lap with ease. "what else?"

"i love you, that's what else." you see soul's expression twitch ever so slightly, brows furrowing before he evens his gaze with your teary one, "i love you too."

2. commitment

life with soul is bliss. he's an extremely attentive lover. he already knows you inside out, and like everyone you change; he changes with you. he blossoms with you. soul loves you so much, he becomes the best version of himself. he doesn't even mean to. all he knows is that you know perfectly how to soothe his fears, how to celebrate with him, how to make him feel loved. he will never ask for more. he's the kind of boyfriend who brings you things that remind him of you. he makes a minecraft realm just for the two of you, where he fills up a whole book telling you how he loves you more than he's afraid of losing you.

soul has a possessive side to him. he rarely shows it around you, but sometimes you notice. when jongseob is making you laugh just a little too hard. or when you're alone with him in their shared room. if he could, sometimes soul thinks he would bite down on you and claim you forever. but then your eyes light up when you see him. you're encasing him in a hug so tight, so intimate, he forgets all about the possessiveness he felt.

date ideas are split evenly between the two of you. whether it's a movie marathon, a quick little errand turned exploring all the shops, a nice dinner date, playing video games for hours on end... you two come up with your own ideas of fun, and share them. but he never ever lets you pay. he will hold your hand so you can't get your card. trying to pay with cash? he's already tapped his card. oh you tried to be sneaky and pay for dinner by giving the server your card? he gave the hostess his the second you walked in. seriously. he's not huge on princess treatment, or gender roles, but he firmly believes you shouldn't have to pay for anything. except in minecraft. he will go halfsies with you when trading with villagers.

2. intimacy

always, always, always is touching you in some way. holding hands, arms wrapped around you, hand on your side. he is casually touching you no matter where you are. while he used to be shy about kissing you around the members, he'll kiss your forehead, cheek, and nose around them. kissing your lips is saved for when you two are alone because...

every kiss turns into a makeout session. no matter how innocent. you'll give him a soft peck, and before you know it his tongue is slipping past your lips, licking against your own. honestly, he doesn't even always wait until you're completely alone. jongseob does have noise cancelling headphones on, at least.

speaking of jongseob: your lovely boyfriend always seems to be more passionate with you when he's in the bed just across from you two. it's that possessiveness he hides from you. he wants to bite you so hard you bleed, so no one will ever look at you again. but he doesn't want to hurt you. so instead he settles for stretching you open with his fingers while his best friend is in the room. you would think he'd be quiet and leave him out of it, but his dirty talk makes it seem like he wants you to moan a little too loud. "quiet, baby. unless you want him to hear? want him to see how good i ruin you? how i pleasure you? you know he can't see you cum, baby, that's only for me to see."

but aside from that little fantasy of his. no matter how rough soul is with you, he's always making love to you. even when he's thrusting into you so hard the bed is shaking and your knees are pressed up next to your chest, he's still looking at you with his puppy eyes, making you feel so good. and if he finishes too early, you bet he's using his mouth to finish you off, even if it means eating some of his own cum. usually he's ready to go again by the time you cum anyways. he has endless stamina.

taglist: @tkooooop, @haolovre ♡

[celestialvoyeur]

💛💙SPIRK FIC REC - MY FAVOURITES💙💛

As a follow up to my recent post about how few fics make it to my favourites list, and how special they are to achieve that distinction, I decided to share my current list.

I’ve shared some of these individually in the past but here you’ll have them all together. 

If you've read any of these already then I'd love to hear your thoughts on whether you loved them as much as I did! 🥰

(NB: these are not listed in any order of preference. Mostly it’s the reverse order in which I read them)

Leave No Soul Behind by whochick Words: 258,951

AOS, AU Canon-Divergence. Spock, Kirk and the other valiant members of the Emergency Personnel Ambulance Service fight to save lives and turn the tide of the ongoing war against Nero and his fleet before it’s too late. Such a beautiful slow burn for Spock and Kirk.

Atlas by distractedKat Words: 135,529

AOS. Follow on from 2009, Kirk, Spock and the rest deal with the aftermath of Nero’s attack and rebuilding after the decimation of the ‘Fleet and Academy. An exciting tale with twists and turns involving black ops, bad-mirals, action, love and fierce loyalty.

The Lotus Eaters by aldora89 Words: 93,594

AOS. Stranded on a planet together, with multiple dangers and very little hope of rescue, Jim and Spock have no choice but to rely on each other to survive. Spectacular plot, amazing world building, fabulous original character and an epic slow burn Spirk love story!

With Your Feet on the Air and Your Head on the Ground by flippyspoon Words: 39,188 @flippyspoon

SNW. A phenomenal Spirk fic in which Kirk is stuck in Spock's mind while the crew work to find a way to retrieve his body. A wonderful getting to know you/falling for you hard tale. Wonderfully written and highly entertaining.

Evolution by Rhaegal (RhaegalKS) Words: 149,293

AOS. Covering the first year of their 5 year mission, this is totally flawless. The character voices are perfection, the prose spectacular. The whole thing plays like an AOS movie. It’s phenomenal.

Emotions by LadyRa Words: 35,569

TOS. Spock gets drugged on a shore leave and is overwhelmed with its effects. Kirk tries to pick up the pieces. A beautiful, and wonderfully grounded, story of realising how much they mean to each other.

And When the Bond Breaks by LadyRa Words: 24,631

TOS. Spock takes out a shuttle to investigate an anomaly and returns to an Enterprise that’s not his own. Time travel shenanigans with such emotional depth that it will traumatise you in the best way. Stunningly good!

All Our Tomorrows Come Today by flippyspoon Words: 18,156 @flippyspoon

SNW. A newly introduced Jim and Spock accidentally get a glimpse into the future and see what they’re going to be to each other (a.k.a. Spirk’s Greatest Hits). A stunningly told story about finding the great love of your life. 

I Won't Make That Mistake Again by Moreta1848 Words: 69,402 @jennelikejennay

SNW/TOS. An epic story detailing Spock and Kirk’s love throughout their lives, beginning from their meeting on Pike’s Enterprise (SNW) and continuing on to an eventual  Generations fix-it happy ending. Wonderful!

No Going Back, No Before by spirkme Words: 78,486 @spirkme915

SNW/TOS. Timeline shenanigans, spies, twists & turns, pining, angst, sacrifice and so so much love!

The 1,000 Hour Sleep by spqr Words: 27,227

SNW. Jim’s been infected with a pathogen that means he can’t sleep, but it he doesn’t he’ll die. Cue Spock and his Vulcan telepathy helping Jim to achieve the sleep he needs, while they get to know each other within their shared mindscapes. A sweet and exciting story about falling in love and overcoming your own inner demons.

First Best Destiny by Ophelia_j Words: 387,733

TOS/TNG. Such a very special fic. Epic in its scope, it covers the entire timeline of Spirk from their very first meeting through to a  clever and satisfying Generations fix-it ending. It provides extra scenes, additional dialogue and internal monologues to expand on existing canon in a really compelling and effective way. Truly this is my new TOS canon.

The Steadfastness of Stars by itsnatalie Words: 61,566

AOS. After Beyond, The crew investigate sudden climate change on a frozen planet and find more than they bargained for. The perfect mix of great plot, fun original characters, action, mystery, world building and deep deep love.

Let Forever Be by gunstreet Words: 43,446 @gunstreet

TOS. A really compelling character study of James T. Kirk. An excellent companion piece to City on the Edge of Forever. Exploring what Jim and Spock got up to, and all they had to overcome, while trying to find Bones and their way back home.

Time After Time by spaceisgay (ChancellorGriffin) Words: 138,921

SNW. Kirk spends a 6 month rotation on the Enterprise as part of his command training. OK, if there’s a favourite of my favourites then this may be it. It’s such a stunning version of their love story, with a beautifully constructed plot. It runs the emotional gamut from moments that will have you laughing out loud to moments that will have you in floods of tears. 

milk and honey by spaceisgay (ChancellorGriffin) Words: 28,651

SNW. Kirk and Spock meet for the first time when they wake up in a prison cell together. A really fun, and extremely clever, version of the ‘aliens made them do it’ trope. It’s intriguing and funny with a real depth of feeling throughout.

The Promised Land by gunstreet Words: 58,260 @gunstreet

TOS. A story that explores the time Jim and Spock spent apart between the end of the 5 year mission and TMP. It’s a beautiful story of reunion and renewal of love. Sometimes achingly sad, but it’s worth it for the happy ending.

Again, if you've read any of these already then I'd love to hear your thoughts on whether you loved them as much as I did! 🥰