#when i was writing ch 2 so i was like FUCK how do i get out of this kflsdjfklsdj

[cerealmonster15]

i do love sneaking in side ships to fics where they arent the focus but also i think the only reason i have the cater/trey mention in this story was bc i needed a reason to prevent cater from giving silver and kalim more thought out advice kflsjdfklsjd i had to interrupt him and make him LEAVE!!!

[areyouwell]

Sciophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of shadows. An adult or child with Sciophobia may experience extreme stress and anxiety in everyday life due to the nature of light and shadow.

Ch.2

Ch.1 <---

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: the most DISGUSTING, tooth-achingly sweet fluff, like candyfloss-style shit. i vomited twice writing it and once again proofreading it. they make pasta together for TWO THOUSAND WORDS so if that ain't yer thing im sorry the good stuff will start soon. and by that i mean body horror. i threw up writing that for a completely different reason...

Word count: 11k (strap in and strap on folks)

A/N: as mentioned in the warnings, this is almost pure fluff. sure there's MC rage so strong my timbers were shivered but other than that it's mostly fluff. i want you guys to know, i am setting us all up for failure, because this WILL get sad. but it'll get hot first, then downright filthy, the a little disgusting before it gets sad, we got a while to go so booties ch.2 LFG

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit

“Maybe just try… concentrating harder?” 

It took all of your willpower not to cross the few steps it would take to punch Scott’s lights out. Why the Professor assigned him to help with your training, you’d never know. Sure, it wasn’t like you were constantly at each other’s throats like he and Logan seemed to be, but you never exactly saw eye to eye either. Scott was too… neat, for you. He liked rules too much, always following what his head told him he should do, rather than following his heart or gut. It was infuriating on missions, and you’d had plenty of arguments about the correct course of action before he became the de facto leader whether you liked it or not. 

That was shortly before you went away, so you didn’t really have much time to experience the dictatorship of Scott Summers, and now you were back, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to. 

“Ya know what Scott? I’d never thought of doing that, thanks!” you bit sarcastically, sweat beading along your brow. You’d been at this for well over an hour now, hour two fast approaching with no progress. You’d successfully shadow-walked, though Cyclops noted your hesitation to do so. But could he blame you? The idea of shadow-walking and then suddenly not having the strength to pull yourself back together, or whatever it was you did, was quite frankly, terrifying. 

Scott sighed, placing a hand on his hip and running the other through his hair. “Alright, take ten, I’ll talk to the Professor.” He said, already making his way towards the iron doors. You let loose a frustrated breath, bracing your hands across the back of your neck. This was hopeless. Utterly hopeless. What’s worse, is that there was no proof you could actually do those things. No proof that was the Professor was saying was fucking true. 

You were glad the back wall was cast in shadow as you stormed across the floor, sending your fist careening into the metalwork, instantly regretting your outburst when the crack of your split knuckles rang out louder than the punch itself. Clamping your lips between your teeth to stop yourself from crying out, you let yourself breathe through the pain, savouring it just slightly. It was good. Pain was good. It reminded you how you weren’t just a pile of shadows wandering aimlessly through the air yet. You doubted you could feel a broken hand if you didn’t have a hand to feel with. 

Turning your back to the wall, you slid down to the floor, head buried between your knees with your arms casing you in, throbbing hand gripping your opposite shoulder tightly. You wouldn’t cry. You would. Not. Cry. That wasn’t you. You don’t cry. Since when did you cry?

This was how Logan found you. He’d been stuck in a meeting with Xavier and Storm all morning, going over the blueprints of the latest rescue mission the team would embark on. Though in all honesty, he was barely listening, his thoughts disobediently drifting back to you. The memory of your smile, the teasing lilt in your voice, the way your arms felt wrapped around his neck, the scent of your hair invading his heightened nose. He wondered how you were getting on with Scott, and he pitied the fact you were having to do this with Scott. That was until the man of the hour walked through the doors, disrupting the meeting and finally releasing him back into the world. 

It’s no wonder his feet led him straight to you, you’d been on his mind that much. So to see you like this, curled up against the opposite wall, your hand an angry red, it tugged at his heart. 

You didn’t seem to notice him as he crossed the room, only looking up when he kicked the gym mat with his foot. There was that smile again. The one that didn’t reach your eyes and only serve to fool people who were fucking idiots into thinking you were okay. 

The last person you expected to see walk through those doors was Logan. Last you’d heard, he was stuck in a meeting with Charles and Ororo. Scott was initially furious he’d been asked to help develop your mutation instead of intent ‘crucial strategy meetings’ so he called them, but he soon lightened up when you not-so-subtly reminded him it’s because Charles thought he was the best option to help you. 

You sighed heavily, bracing your good hand on your knee as you rose to your feet. For Logan to see you in such a sorry state wasn’t high on your list of priorities. You were pretty sure it wasn’t on that list at all. 

“Not goin’ well?” he asked softly, and you had to grit your teeth to stop yourself from tearing up. You watched his eyes flicker from your face to your hand, thick brows pinching in concern. You followed his line of sight, not that you needed to, you could fucking feel your knuckles pulsing fire up your arm. 

“Uh, no, not really. I’d love to say I did this punching Scott, but he left before I could, so I took it out on the wall instead.” You half smiled, and Logan found himself blowing out a huff of laughter. Even in this state, in this mindset, you could still find humour. 

Sinking your hand into the shadows across the wall behind you, you felt the familiar tingle of, what you now know was your body breaking apart, before the slight itch of pulling it back together as you dragged it back out, good as new. 

Logan thought for a moment, hazel eyes flicking from you to the shadows behind you. “Have you tried–”

“If you’re about to say ‘concentrating harder’ I might have to hurt you.” You interrupted, much to his amusement.

“I’m assumin’ that’s what Scott said?”

“Word for fucking word,” you said with a slight lopsided smile. Now that one reached your eyes. 

Logan took a few steps forward, now borderline pinning you against the wall. If it wasn’t for his hearing, he would have missed the way your breath hitched slightly, the slight shudder in your exhale. He chalked it down to your apprehension toward your situation. He had to. Giving himself hope like that just led to a shit load of hurt.

“What I was goin’ to say, was have ya tried from in there?” he raised a brow, his eyes looking past you and at the wall behind, and you had to take a minute to remember what you were talking about, his proximity all but throwing all and any thought out the window. It was achingly familiar to yesterday in the kitchen.

“You might be onto something…” you breathed when you remembered how to form words. Now you were thinking about it, he could be right. Why on earth were you trying to call the shadows to you, when you could drag them out with you? However, the idea of once again disappearing into shadow didn’t fill you with the same sense of freedom it once did. 

And Logan could see it. The hesitation, apprehension. You’d told him you were scared last night, but this was the first time he’d seen it. “I’ll be right here, yeah?” Fuck the way you looked at him shattered his heart. You wanted to be brave, you wanted to have the same sense of wonder you always did when it came to your mutation. He looked at the clench of your jaw, the flare of your nostrils as you nodded. 

“Alright… don’t go anywhere.” you half-joked, sliding your hands down the cool wall behind you, feeling your skin tingle at the mere idea of disappearing into the darkness. 

“Where would I go? You’re right here.” Logan responded, placing his index finger on the centre of your forehead and pushing ever so slightly. It gave you enough courage to fall back into the darkness, feeling the release of those threads holding your corporeal body together. 

Logan wasn’t really sure why he said that and he hoped to fuck you were too nervous about this whole thing to actually register what he’d said. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he watched you fold into the shadow, taking a few steps back and looking at his watch. Any longer than three minutes and he’ll start to think this was a really bad idea. Though, he probably should have told you that before you disappeared. 

Fuck.

It was always a strange sensation. Your consciousness was still intact, but the rest of your body had disappeared, scattered into a million different pieces. Probably billions. You couldn’t see, but you didn’t need to. You could sense. Sense the layout of the room. Sense where the shadows begin and where they end. Everything became nothing, and it was freedom. Quieting your thoughts, you concentrated. Concentrated on pulling. It was the same itching sensation you felt when leaving the shadows, except you tried to ground yourself.

Ground yourself in a place that had literally no ground.

This was fucking impossible.

You felt yourself slipping, the shadows around you not knowing what it was you were asking. Did the shadows have consciousness too? You didn’t know. Who fucking knew? And you didn’t fucking care. You tried to concentrate again, pulling against those threads you used to bring yourself from one place to the other toward you.

And only succeeding in moving again. Walking. This was no fucking different to what you’ve always done. Just moving from one point to the next. You’d already fucking mastered that. 

But at least one good thing had come from this. You weren’t afraid anymore. 

You were fucking angry.

Your consciousness writhed like a ball of angry vipers, pulling at all and any threads you could sense around you, flicking from one place to another with no rhyme or reason, no direction. 

If you could scream, you would have done. If you could lash out, you would have done. Rage rippled through your senses, those threads around you thrashing and flailing. Useless. Fucking useless. Maybe this was the fate you deserved. Disappearing into nothing, being nothing. Maybe you did deserve it. 

But you wouldn’t fucking accept it. Not yet.

This is “–fucking POINTLESS!” you roared, stepping from the shadow, your body itching all over, buzzing with adrenaline, your back almost burning. Your eyes took time to adjust to the light again, but you were too furious to register anything. “What’s the fucking point? Nothing works! I can’t pull them toward me, I can’t pull them with me, this is fucking stupid!” you continued your tirade, almost feeling the physical weight of your failure heavy upon your shoulders. “I can’t fucking do it, so why bother trying? It’s been a day and I’m already sick of this shit!” you heaved, breath searing your newly formed lungs, sending shockwaves of fire through your shoulder blades. You couldn’t remember a time when you’d been this angry. “If this stupid fucking mutation doesn’t kill me I’ll do it myself I swear to fucking god and what the FUCK are you smiling at Logan?!” You bellowed, your eyes finally registering what they were seeing. 

Logan had probably the world’s most gorgeous smile, and you wished you weren’t too pissed off to appreciate it. But before he had time to answer, Scott and Charles entered the room, Scott dropped a mug of what looked like freshly brewed coffee straight onto the floor, the shattering of the ceramic lingering in the air as the room fell deadly silent. 

“What?” you asked, now slightly fearful as the three men peered at you, each with a different expression. Scott seemed utterly horrified, his jaw slack and agape. Charles looked almost smug, a knowing smile pulling at his lips. And Logan?

Logan just grinned at you, arms folded across his chest. “You did it,” he whispered, nodding to what you thought was the wall behind you. Your eyes lingered on his as you turned your head, finally looking at what everyone else in the room seemed to be seeing. 

Honestly, you were fucking shocked you didn’t notice. At least now the burning in your shoulder blades had an explanation. 

Two broad, rippling wings of pure shadow spread wide from your back, the darkness almost pulsing along with your rapid heartbeat. It felt good, and you noted the lack of pressure about your body. Those threads that seemed constantly under strain had loosened, seemingly constantly fed by the shadows at your back. 

You slowly pulled at the strings, watching the wings move and shift with your intentions. Your fury dissolved as you watched in complete awe, along with the three others in the room. They folded close to your back and you felt the buzzing of energy against your leg, before you extended them again to their full size, tips grazing either side of the room. 

“Wh… H-how?” Scott managed to stutter, taking a cautious step forward. You looked from your shadows to Cyclops. 

“It, uh, it was Logan’s idea. Pull them out with me rather than trying to pull them towards me…” you were still reeling, slowly extending your fingers before trying to move the rest of your body. You didn’t know how much concentration it was taking to keep them intact, and you were a little afraid of letting them slip. Your breath came heavy as if you’d run around the estate at least four times. 

Logan looked back at Scott, unable to help his ‘fuck you’ brow raise. And to his satisfaction, Scott clicked his tongue in irritation. He turned back to you when he heard your slight laugh, clearly having noticed the silent exchange between them.

“How did you even know about this?” Scott asked accusingly.

“She told me.” Logan retorted as if it was the most obvious response on the planet. Scott just stood there in shock.

“She… she told you? She told you. As in, the one over there?” Cyclops pointed at you and you flipped him off in return.

“Yeah? Who else would we be talkin’ ‘bout?”

“It’s just, she doesn’t tend to… do that,”

“She is right fucking here!” you held your arms up, gesturing to yourself in a way that thankfully returned the boys’ attention back to the situation at hand. 

“Yeah well, this is all well and good,” Scott continued, crouching now to pick up the larger pieces of the shattered mug, “but how do you release them?” he finished. 

He had a point. You couldn’t wander around the school with two giant wings stuck to your back, as much as you wanted to. How would you get through the doorways? Xavier wheeled forward until he was next to Logan, his face now much more serious.

“Carefully. Release it too quickly and the threads could go with them,”

“Wouldn’t that just mean she would be back in the shadow?” Logan asked, slight concern lacing his baritone voice. There was a catch here, and every single one of you knew it. 

“Ordinarily yes, however, she cannot disappear into her own shadow. If she releases those threads anywhere other than back to its original form, there’s a risk of her disappearing with it and getting stuck,” He explained, to nobody’s understanding. You knew you couldn’t disappear into your own shadow, you’d tried before and your body simply wouldn’t let you. 

“So wait… I can pull the shadow with me but have to return it to where it was, essentially?” you asked, slowly so that your question could be understood, even by yourself. Charles nodded, and you took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. 

Logan couldn’t help but feel partly to blame for this. He’d encouraged you to take this step, to try alternate methods of developing your mutation, and now he had, you were stuck like this until you felt sure you could release it carefully. Shit.

‘She made it this far because of you. We have a chance at changing her fate because of you, Logan. You cannot regret that.’ It was always jarring when the Professor found his way into his head, and it wasn’t the least bit soothing. What did ease him a little, however, was your slight reassuring smile, renewed with confidence. 

You could see he was battling with guilt, terrified that he may have endangered you. But you could do this. You’d already managed to achieve something you never thought you could today, what’s one more miracle?

“Hooookay, let’s try this… carefully, right?” it was a rhetorical question because honestly? You were a little scared, and stalling seemed to give you time to collect your thoughts and calm your slightly stuttering heart.

“Carefully,” Charles instructed, and you nodded once before taking another deep breath. Holding it for a few moments, you tightened the threads you hoped to fuck were holding you together, keeping them in place before blowing out the breath, releasing your connection to the wings behind your back. You felt them bleed down your shoulders, shivering slightly as the shadows snaked down your legs and back against the wall behind you, returning to their original state. 

You’d closed your eyes at some point, honestly, you couldn’t remember when. You were scared to open them, scared to see if you’d fucked anything up, if parts of your body were just completely shadow, or whether you had accidentally grown multiple limbs or something. You knew your mind was running away from you, but you couldn’t help it, as ridiculous as it felt.

Logan smiled slightly to himself as he watched the shadows wash away and return to the wall, and that inward smile broadened when he noticed you weren’t moving, eyes clenched shut, your hands balled into fists, your shoulders tensed and hunched. He stepped forward and up to you, gently bracing his hands on either side of your neck, thumbs angling your jaw up a little. Your soft gasp didn’t escape his ears.

“Y’alright?” He asked, eyes searching your face before finding your own gaze, your lids having fluttered open. You visibly relaxed, one hand that was previously balled into a tight fist now gently sliding up his wrist, resting atop his forearm. Your touch was electric, fingertips sending shivers down his spine. 

“Fine, I think,” you responded, gliding your nails through the hair on his arm. It was an absent response to his touch. You wanted to be closer to him, to bury your head in the crook of his neck and breathe in his pinewood scent. His breath was a mix of mint and tobacco, and you wondered if his lips had a permanent hint of whiskey if you were to taste them, having been told by a grumbling Jean that was who the hidden, half-empty bottle in the cupboard belonged to.

You instantly mourned the loss of his touch when he stepped back, though you were grateful he did. You’d been dangerously close to kissing him, and whilst you still wanted to, perhaps not without an audience of Charles and Scott.

“How are you feeling?” You blinked when the Professor addressed you directly, having forgotten what living in reality was like for a few moments. Nodding along with an answer you hadn’t voiced yet, you grinned along with a deep, contorting rumble of your stomach.

“Apparently, starving.” A chuckle escaped your lips and you braced a hand against your stomach in an attempt to soothe away the uncomfortable feeling of hunger. 

“I think that’s enough for today. Logan, could you take this one to the kitchen? Make sure she’s fed.” There was a knowing look in Professor Xavier’s eye that Logan wasn’t sure he liked. Sure, he may have just lovingly held your face whilst bringing you back from the brink of terror, but that didn’t mean there was anything going on between the two of you. You met yesterday!

“Sure.” he shrugged, trying his damnest to sound nonchalant about it. You stretched your arms up above your head, popping your elbows slightly as you followed Logan from the room, feeling a thousand times lighter than you did when you entered two hours ago. Honestly, you couldn’t believe you’d succeeded. 

The doors closed behind you with a soft swish, and you paused to appreciate the man walking ahead of you. You’d known each other for less than twenty-four hours, and yet you’d tear the fabric of the universe apart to ensure his safety. You knew almost nothing about him, and yet you felt the strangest pull towards him, a yearning to be around him, to be near him. It was infuriating, but so fucking exciting at the same time. Could this maybe be something? Did he feel this weird connection too? Or was it just your delusions working overtime? Honestly, hard to say.

“Take a picture, it’d last longer.”

You snapped from your daze to notice he’d turned back to you, realising you weren’t following him. Flashing him a broad smile, refusing to feel any kind of embarrassment that he’d caught you practically staring at him, you jogged a little to catch up, effortlessly falling into step beside him.

“Wanted to thank you,” you looked up at him through the corner of your eye, catching his own gaze. 

“What for?”

“Everything. Logan, I’ve known you for less than a full day and you’ve already helped me more than people I’ve known practically my whole life. The Professor excluded. So yeah, thanks.” You shrugged, hitting the button on the lift to take you both back up to the ground floor. The doors closed and you leaned against the back wall, crossing one ankle over the other. 

“You need better friends if you’re thankin’ me for anythin’. Wouldn’t anyone else do the same?” he asked, mirroring your stance against the adjacent wall, folding his arms across his chest. You snorted a laugh, and he found himself smiling at you.

“Yeah, friends would, but like I said, we haven’t even known each other a full twenty-four hours yet.”

Logan cocked a brow, his smile morphing back to a small smirk. “Well pardon me, princess, I thought we were friends.” 

You rolled your eyes, and Logan had a horrendous feeling he’d misread the entire situation between you. “I mean like, lifelong friends, asshole. People I’ve known ever since I can remember. Not people I met yesterday,” you finished, gently kicking his foot with your own. Logan straightened up as the lift slowed to reach the ground floor, softly flicking your forehead in response to your kick, causing you to bat his hand away.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? You made an impact,” he shrugged, and you grinned.

“Oh yeah?”

“Don’t let it get to your head, bub. I’m just sayin’ you show up after not existin’ and immediately cause trouble.” he watched your expression shift from mischievous to a sheepish pout, unable to beat the trouble-maker allegations. He sighed slightly. “But hey, maybe I like trouble.” The doors opened for the both of you to leave, Logan being the first to make his exit. Though, you stayed behind for a beat.

“Or maybe trouble just likes you,” you retorted with that same lopsided smile he’d come to admire so much, before pushing back against the wall to join him. 

“Yeah well, ‘m’not mad about it either way,” he mumbled, and you thought better about teasing him for it. You imagined this was about as close as he was gonna get to voicing genuine care for you, so you let it drop, simply humming a thoughtful smile in response. 

You don’t know why you were expecting the kitchen to have a few people in it, since classes were currently going on. Maybe it was due to the fact you hadn’t exactly settled back into the life of a teacher yet. Not that you were a teacher anymore, the man currently rifling through the snacks cupboard had seen to that. You found, with no small degree of surprise, that you missed it. You missed teaching combat and strategy, you missed taking the kids through training drills and exercise routines. You missed helping them hone their mutations, with Jean’s help, or Ororo’s help. Sure, the worry of them getting hurt always used to play on your mind, but now you were back, you realised that the worry was worth the fulfilment. 

Taking a seat at the table, you propped your chin up on the heel of your palm, watching as Logan crouched to one of the cupboards below the counter. You didn’t pretend like you weren’t enjoying the view. He really did look fantastic for one hundred and thirty. In peak physical condition.

“I’d say take a picture again but I’d really rather you didn’t,” you were too focused shamelessly staring at his ass you hadn’t noticed he was peering at you over his shoulder with a not-so-subtle smirk. You flashed one right back.

You were coming to like that phrase. “I wouldn’t be opposed,” you retorted, wiggling your brows up and down. Logan snorted a laugh. 

“You flirt with everyone like this?”

You shook your head, moving to rest your chin on top of your now interlaced fingers. “Nah, only with the ones over ninety. I have a thing for older men,” you winked and he rolled his eyes.

“Stop,” but judging from his expression, Logan was finding this just as amusing as you were. But as much as you wanted to continue, your curiosity got the better of you.

“What’re you looking for?” you asked, standing from your seat at the table and skirting around the wood to sit on the edge closer to him, peering down over his shoulder. 

“There used to be a packet of insta-noodles in here somewhere but I think one of the kids got to it first,” he explained, and you gasped dramatically, to the point where he actually looked a little concerned over his shoulder. “What?”

“Insta-noodles? My brother in Christ, please tell me you were not about to give me instant fucking noodles?” you felt something in you die at the thought, and something else died at his affirming nod.

“Yeah, what's wrong with that?” he asked, genuinely perplexed by your reaction. It was just noodles for fuck’s sake, it wasn’t like he’d just offered to kick a baby. He blinked at your barked laugh of disbelief, watching as you hopped off the table and shooed him aside.

“Step back fossil–”

“Hey!”

“and let me do this. We’re going to actually have food. Like, real food. Take a seat or watch and learn.” You shot him a look over your shoulder, before gathering whatever ingredients you needed. Logan dragged one of the chairs back from the table, taking a seat to watch whatever it was you were about to make. 

You started by dicing an onion, a pan with oil already heating up on the gas stove, and it took all of three minutes for Logan to be impressed by your knife skills. You almost wielded the thing like a dagger, flipping it this way and that, before scooping half the pile of onion and dropping it into a plastic bowl. The other half you scraped into the pan, and Logan couldn’t help but savour the sound of the sizzle and the smell of food. Suddenly, he too was starving.

You crossed to the fridge, rummaging around the bottom shelf before pulling out a tub of minced beef, and a packet of mushrooms. Closing the door with your hip, you lay the ingredients out on the counter, pulling open the cupboard above your head to retrieve a box of breadcrumbs and a carton of eggs. Though he saw you pause briefly, turning your head back to him.

“You’re not vegetarian or vegan, right? Probably should have asked yesterday,” your question made him laugh, and you tilted your head to the side. “What?”

“Do I look vegan to you?”

You stuck your tongue in your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. No, no he didn’t. But at the same time, you’d made a similar mistake in the past. And it still haunts you to this day.

“Just answer the question, Lo’” you grit, placing a hand on your hip. Logan blinked, trying his best to get past the nickname you’d just given him. Usually, nicknames were his thing, having about a million different ones for a million different circumstances. He barely managed to shake his head, earning himself a smile of gratitude from you, before you turned back to your task at hand and he could settle himself with his brow pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

You crouched again, rifling through the cupboard with cans. Pushing a stack of soup to the side, you froze solid, your eyes blowing wide as your hand shook at what you saw. Another mug, though someone had gone to great lengths to hide this one. Your fingertips grazed the faded image, a photograph of a younger-looking you and a girl with fair features, her braids tied back at the top of her head. Her smile was brilliant. Dazzling. It took you a moment to will your blurring vision away, before inhaling deeply and bringing out the chopped tomatoes you’d been looking for, setting it to the side. Taking a moment to push her from your mind whilst stirring the slowly browning onions, you then cross to fill the kettle, flicking the switch to start boiling. Logan blew out a breath, having recovered from his heart stuttering and finally went back to watching you cook. 

It was calming, almost hypnotic, the way you moved about the kitchen. Folding the onions in with the beef mince, breadcrumbs and two eggs. Only, it just occurred to him he had no fucking clue what you were making. Standing from his seat, he moved over to lean his shoulder against the fridge door, now having a clear line of sight to watch what you were doing.

“What’re you making?” he asked, smiling slightly as you startled. He didn’t mean to scare you, he just honestly didn’t realise how deep into the process you were. 

“Meatball Marinara,” you answered, your fingers incorporating the ingredients in the bowl until you were left with a sticky, meaty lump you could form balls out of. 

“From scratch?” he asked, eyes slightly wide. You’d spoken at length about your cooking last night, and how you’d learned, and it wasn’t that he didn’t believe you, it was more that he didn’t quite realise how impressive it was until he was here, watching you. 

He swore, your smile could start and end wars.

“It’s pretty quick and easy, to be honest,” you explained, eyes never leaving your task despite feeling his own trained on you. You grabbed the salt from the spice rack, twisting the grinder a few times until you felt it was right. That was what a lot of cooking was for you. Just feeling. When you felt something was done, you’d take it from the oven. When you felt something needed a little more seasoning, you’d sprinkle some paprika in for an extra kick. Nothing was ever done by the book. 

It’s mainly why you didn’t exactly get on with Scott.

“Huh…” Logan responded, watching how you’d started to take small portions of the beef and roll it into little balls, placing them onto a separate plate. 

“Could you give the onions a quick stir? ‘ve got meat hands,” you wiggled your slightly shining fingers in his face, and he jerked back, much to your amusement. Logan fought the urge to flick your forehead again, settling on ignoring your evil little laugh and instead focussing on his critical mission of stirring onions. 

“D’ya cook like this when you were away?” he asked, finding an insane amount of domestic comfort in cooking with you. He saw you shake your head out of his peripheral vision. 

“Nah, didn’t have time, plus I was moving around a lot. Usually, it was quicker and easier things than this,”

“Like insta-noodles?”

You could fucking hear his smirk, and you managed to stop yourself from cracking an egg over his head. “No. Never insta-noodles. Ever.”

You’d finished making little meatballs and had started splitting apart a bulb of garlic, crushing the cloves beneath your knife before peeling off the skin and dicing them before dropping them into the pan he was still stirring. His eyes closed involuntarily as you leaned across him, once again your scent hitting him like a freight train, only this time your shampoo had blended with the sweet, slightly musky smell of your sweat. It was enough to drive him fucking feral. 

“Keep stirring that, or it’ll stick to the bottom and burn,” you instructed absently, halfway through chopping up a few mushrooms before leaning across him again to drop them into the pan as well. Logan held the spoon like it was his lifeline, knuckles draining white as you moved around him to retrieve another pan.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded, and you snorted another laugh. He really had to pull himself together. 

You poured the boiled water from the kettle into the new pan, lighting the burner and setting it on a high heat, bringing the water roiling before grinding salt for what Logan felt was far too long. He wondered vaguely if you had high sodium levels, or how your blood pressure was. You waited again for the water to come back to a boil, before placing a sizeable amount of spaghetti into the pan, putting slight pressure on the tips so the ends would soften and bend faster in the water. 

Placing the lid over the pan, you went to check your watch. Your watch that you weren’t wearing. Fucking goddamnit. You looked around for a clock, before noticing Logan’s wrist. 

Logan’s soul nearly left his body at the way you grabbed his hand, twisting his wrist to make a note of the time. You weren’t exactly rough, but it was assertive enough for him to think twice about the kinds of things he was into…

Wait, what the fuck was he talking about?

“You could’ve just asked the time,” he muttered, tugging his wrist back almost possesively. 

“Hm?” you blinked. In truth, you’d been utterly lost in how good this felt. How right it felt to just do average, mundane tasks with him. “Oh, right, yeah, sorry. Could you tell me when ten minutes have passed?” you asked, almost instantly busying yourself again by carefully dropping the meatballs into the pan he was stirring. “Gotta brown off the meat first…” you instructed softly, almost absently. But he listened, slowing his movements. Your resulting smile was radiant. “Hey, you’re a natural!”

Logan raised a brow. “I’m stirring a pan, bub. Not exactly gourmet style.” You laughed, gently hitting his bicep with the back of your hand, only to stop in your tracks, shaking your knuckles out. 

“Ow! I thought you said your bones were made of adamantium,” you exclaimed, rubbing over the back of your hand with your other palm. In truth, it didn’t really hurt, but you just wanted to make a point because nobody has the right to be this built. It was insane.

Logan bit his tongue to stop from smiling, his eyes sliding from that pan to you. “Just the result of a good workout regime,” he shrugged as if it were nothing special. In reality, he knew he looked good. He put a lot of work into his physique, and whilst his mutation did help with that, it was still nice to be complimented on it once in a while. 

“Huh… you don’t say,” you responded, cracking open the can of tomatoes once the meatballs had browned to your satisfaction. The metal sizzled slightly as you poured in the sauce, setting the can to the side and retrieving a few basil leaves from the window box on the opposite side of the room. Logan hadn’t noticed it before, remarkably, and though having no experience with plants in recent history, something told him he wouldn’t have too much trouble identifying what they were.

It was a weird feeling. Remembering something he didn’t actually remember. Though it had been the story of his life for the last few years. 

You dropped the leaves into the sauce, leaving him to stir the pot whilst you brought out two sets of plates and cutlery and set them on the counter, angling your head so you could catch sight of the time from the watch on his wrist. He would have just told you if he didn’t think you were deriving some kind of joy from attempting to read his watch sideways.

Removing the lid from the pan, you scooped up a single piece of spaghetti, blowing away the steam before dropping it into your hand when you thought it was cool enough. You shot him a quick look Logan could only describe as pure mischief, before throwing the spaghetti against the backsplash of the stove. He watched as the pasta hit the wall with a sick squelch, before sliding down the tiles. 

He looked back at you, and you almost instantly burst into fits of laughter. “The fuck was that for?” he asked, his brows furrowed in perplexion. 

You managed to recover from laughing, though hiccuped through a few giggles. “You can tell whether spaghetti’s done by throwing it at the wall. If it sticks, it’s raw, if it slides, it’s done,” you exclaimed, tilting your head to get another look at the time, noting that those ten minutes were up.

“Really?” 

“Nah, that’s an old wive’s tale. Honestly, it’s just kinda fun to pelt spaghetti at a wall and call it ‘cooking’.” You sent him a wink, and Logan shook his head in fond disbelief. He felt like he’d seen so many sides to you in the last twenty-four hours alone. And if he was being completely honest with himself, he wanted to see more. He wanted to see how many sides to you there were, and whether he would like them all as much as he liked the ones he’s already seen. Your fury included.

“Your ten minutes it up, by the way,” he reminded you, and though he had a feeling you already knew, you nodded in thanks anyway, removing the boiling pan from the stove and flicking off the burner, the blue gas flames retreated to nothing. Skirting around him to the sink, you tipped out the water, using the lid of the pan to stop the rest of the spaghetti from falling with it. You shook the pan slightly, shaking out any pieces that had stuck together, before setting about separating the contents into two portions, one slightly bigger than the other. 

“How’s it looking?” you asked, leaning back to take a look at the sauce. If Logan had to grit his teeth after smelling your scent one more time his jaw would fucking snap. You really weren’t making this easy on him, were you? Part of him wondered if you were doing it deliberately, but there was no way of you knowing about his heightened senses. Unless you’d asked around, which, with everything you’ve had going on since you got back, he sincerely doubted. 

“Looks good to me, but I’m not the expert here,” he handed you the spoon, stepping to the side for you to take over. Your fingers brushed his as you took it, and he tried his fucking best to ignore the slight buzz you’d left. 

Lifting the spoon to your lips, you sampled what you’d been slaving over for the last twenty minutes, smiling slightly as the sweet, tarty flavours burst on your tongue. It was a new sensation for Logan to wish he was a spoon, but here he was. 

“Perfect!” you beamed, dipping the spoon back in the sauce and turning to him, your palm cupped beneath the wood to prevent anything from spilling onto the floor. “Wanna try it?”

Logan shrugged, stepping forward and allowing you to bring the spoon to his lips. Your eyes never left his, the tips of your fingers grazing the coarse stubble beneath his chin, but you didn’t move away. He struggled to focus on anything other than how close you were to him, the feeling of your fingers on his jaw, your breath fanning the lower half of his face. Your hopeful eyes waiting eagerly for his verdict, searching his expression for any kind of clue. And he was suddenly afraid of what you’d find there. 

Stepping back, he pretended like he was savouring what you’d fed him, and whilst it was fucking delicious, it didn’t compare to how he imagined your lips tasting. Or anything else, for that matter. 

“‘S’really good,” he managed, and you immediately looked as if you weren’t waiting with bated breath for his approval.

“Isn’t it? Fuck I’m good,” your laugh was more akin to an evil mastermind than someone who’d just made meatballs, but Logan would be hard-pressed to find another time in his life when he felt this at peace with the world. At least, not in the life he could remember. “Sit, I’ll bring it over,” you instructed, removing a larger, metal spoon from the drawer, which he took off you the moment he could.

“Pretty sure it’s supposed to be the other way ‘round, bub. You cooked,” he glanced pointedly to the seat you’d just gestured to. But clearly, you were, amongst many other things, incredibly stubborn. 

“Not sure how you worked that one out, you cooked too,” you folded your arms across your chest, setting your jaw. 

“Yeah, barely. Sit your ass down,” he pointed to the chair with the spoon in his hand, but you still refused, now leaning against the counter as if you could get any further away from the table. Logan sighed heavily, placing the spoon down again. “Didn’t wanna have to do this…” he muttered, and you didn’t have the chance to ask what he meant by this before his arms were around your waist and you were lifted effortlessly off the ground. 

All breath fled from your lungs. Your hands instantly fell to his shoulders, nails clinging on for dear life as he carried you to that godforsaken chair. His grip around your body tightened as you attempted to wriggle free from his arms, laughing breathlessly, exhilaration coursing through your body. Only, the moment he tried to set you down, you did a complete 180 and wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist.

“Let go,” his words were muffled against your neck as he bent almost double, and you leaned back until you were practically hovering above the chair.

“Seemed like a good idea a minute ago, huh?” You arched a cocky brow and were met with an expression mirroring your own. 

“So you gonna cling to me forever? That your genius plan?”

“If that's what it takes,” 

“Let go,” the way he said your name almost had you falling to the floor, your muscles suddenly growing weak. But you stayed strong, out of nothing but principal at this point. He wasn’t even holding you anymore, you were clinging on through sheer willpower alone. For the sake of being stubborn.

“You made this bed, now lie in it,” you responded haughtily, refusing to look into his irritated façade.

“That doesn’t make any goddamn sense,” he growled, and you fucking melted. That wasn’t fucking fair, and judging by the steadily growing smirk, he knew it. His hands gripped both your calves, successfully peeling you from his waist whilst you were distracted. You had no choice but to let your legs fall to the floor, catching yourself on the chair behind you, much to his triumphant grin. 

“You cheated!” you gaped, sitting cross-legged on the seat. Logan barely looked over his shoulder as he started spooning the sauce onto the two piles of pasta. All that over fucking spaghetti. And you didn’t even regret it a little.

“How’d I cheat?” he asked, though you were aware he knew full well how. And you were right. He did know. Of course he knew. He’d used that specific voice countless times before. Usually under very different circumstances. He just wanted to hear you say it. Hear you say how it affected you. 

But, true to form, you were stubborn.

“You’re stronger than I am,” you sighed, glaring heated daggers into the back of his head. You wanted to be petty, to stand up and take the spoon from him again, but in all honesty, you don’t think you’d survive another round of ‘sit on the fucking chair’.

Logan looked at you over his shoulder, his eyes swirling with knowing, and you stuck your tongue in your cheek and looked away, not giving him any satisfaction of confirming what he was thinking. You’d been so caught up in avoiding eye contact, that you almost jumped when he set the plate down in front of you, setting his own at the opposite place. At least he’d had the sense to realise the large portion was for him. Credit where credit was due, you guessed.

A comfortable silence blanketed the kitchen as he took a seat, two glasses of water in his hands, and you smiled a thank you. If you had your brother to thank for anything, it was teaching you how to cook. Well, it was many more things than that, but at this moment, it was cooking lessons. He didn’t want you going into the world with the culinary skills of a carrot. His words, not yours. 

You had a feeling Logan was a hard man to impress, so listening to his small grunt of appreciation was music to your ears. “Told ya I was a good chef,” you beamed after swallowing a mouthful and taking a large sip of water. 

Logan nodded in agreement. It wasn’t like he could disagree, the proof was right there, in front of him, in his fucking mouth for fuck’s sake. And the peace pesto from last night. Though he was glad his metabolism was fast. Pasta two days in a row can’t be good for anyone. “Never said you weren’t,” your expression fell from pride to scowling in seconds, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “You’re a fantastic chef.”

Your eyes narrowed as you searched for any hint of dishonesty, but you came up short. Though he said it as if to placate you, something told you he really meant it. You were just playing around, in all honesty, teasing in order to forget what just happened between you, and you’d gotten so much more than you bargained for. 

Much like the other night, you both fell into comfortable, mundane conversation, finding refuge in how fucking normal everything felt right now. You laughed and smiled as if the threat of disappearing into nothing didn’t constantly hang above your head, and he teased and joked as if the weight of his forgotten life didn’t constantly burden his shoulders. You could get used to this. Dangerously used to this. 

Logan was completely enamoured by you, once again finding himself encapsulated by the way you talk, from moments where you get really into whatever story you’re telling, to quieter moments when you let the conversation settle. If he was to die tomorrow, unlikely but worth entertaining from time to time, it was moments like these he was sure would flash through his mind. 

“What about you? I’ve talked your ear off about my life but you never talk about yours. Though, I guess there’s a lot to talk about,” you mused thoughtfully, twisting your fork through your spaghetti, or whatever was left of it. Logan grunted, shifting in his seat to lean against the back of the chair.

“It’s not a happy story,” he admitted quietly, buying himself some time by taking a long glass of water. Your gentle eyes found his, a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

“I’m not looking for a fairytale. Just who you are,” you fought the urge to reach across the table and slip your hand into his. Though you didn’t want to push him to divulge anything, you just didn’t wanna feel like the whole conversation was one-sided. Sure, he would chime in with a few anecdotes but mainly it was just asking you questions. 

If he was being honest with himself, Logan wasn’t sure he wanted to tell you anything about his past. He knew you wouldn’t judge, clearly having seen a fair amount of bullshit yourself, and the fact that it simply wasn’t who you were. No, his problem lay with the fact that he didn’t want to dampen your spirit with his sob story of a past. How he only remembers through thrashing nightmares, waking up soaked in sweat, heart racing. You didn’t need to know any of that. 

“Alright… I–” he began before quite literally being saved by the bell. Logan looked at his watch, brows raising at how easily time had once again run away with the two of you. You blinked, looking around as if you could find the bell and ask it personally why it was going off so early before the echoing of ongoing conversation shattered the domestic delusion you’d both managed to trick yourselves into feeling.

“Another time,” you stood from the table, leaning over to grab his plate, but he swatted your hand away and instead took your own. 

“Never learn, do ya?” he asked with a slight smile, and you rolled your eyes. With a heavy, defeated sigh, you conceded, simply allowing him to take your plate to the sink. Stretching your arms high above your head, you popped your stiff shoulders, turning your head as two students you knew well entered the kitchen.

“You made meatballs?! No fair, I wanted some!” Jubilee whined, her books still clasped against her chest. Artie stuck out his forked tongue, much like a snake would taste the air around it before his curious face morphed into a frown. It seemed he too wouldn’t have minded meatballs. 

Logan looked over his shoulder at the two newcomers, his eyes darting between you and them, your guilt written all over your face.

“I’ll make them for you again sometime soon. We could have one of those big dinners we used to do, remember those?” you asked, your eyes alight with hope. Logan had heard of those. Apparently, you used to cook for the whole mansion, and the students would drag tables and chairs from all different rooms and have a huge feast together. Of course, he didn’t believe a word anybody said about it, since he was convinced you were a figment of everyone’s collective imagination, but now he knew you very much did exist, he could envision you dancing around the kitchen for hours on end, preparing dish after dish.

Jubilee’s face lit up at the suggestion, her hand hitting Artie’s arm excitedly. “Seriously? You mean that? We’ve missed doing that so much. Nobody cooks the way you do!” She bounced on her toes, before whirling and darting from the room, most likely to tell the rest of her friends. Artie lingered for a few seconds, clearly not knowing whether he wanted to stay or to race after Jubilee, before he too turned on his heel and ran after her. You chuckled softly, running a hand through your hair.

“What’ve I gotten myself into…?” you muttered, startling slightly as a hand rested on your shoulder. You looked up at Logan, unable to accurately decipher his expression. All you knew was that it was soft. Softer than you’d seen in the last day or so. 

“Were y’always this good with em? The kids?” he asked, and you huffed a laugh. You wished you could say yes, absolutely, you’d always been naturally gifted at looking after children. But that wasn’t the truth. 

“Fuck no. Used to hate kids, to be honest with you. Thought they were annoying as fuck when I first started,” you admitted slightly sheepishly. “But, they grew on me. Still not a fan of like, other kids, but any who come to this school? Love ‘em.” 

“Makes me wonder why they sent you ‘round America and not someone more suited.” his eyes glinted with mischief and you lightly elbowed his ribs.

“I can be incredibly persuasive.” 

“That so?”

“Mmmhm,” you nodded emphatically, stepping out of his range and immediately missing the warmth of his palm on your shoulder. You hadn’t even noticed he’d left it there until you moved away and hopped onto the table, your feet dangling slightly. He didn’t take his eyes off you, scanning your face as though he was considering you. You cocked a brow. “What?”

“Teach with me.”

You blinked. Well, you weren’t expecting that. “Come again?”

“Teach with me,” he repeated as confidently as he’d said it the first time. You scoffed a laugh. 

“What? Why?”

Logan shrugged. “You’re better with the kids than I am, and it would give you a good opportunity to develop your mutation in a combat setting.” And I get to spend more time with you.

You hesitated. “I– I don’t know, Logan. It’s… I don’t think it’s a good idea,” While you wanted nothing more than yet another excuse to be around him, you didn’t know if getting back into teaching was the right thing for you at the moment. Yeah, you missed it. Fuck, you missed it more than you thought you would, but you really meant it when you said you weren’t cut out for it. If only you weren’t the only person who thought so. 

“One class.” he bargained. “Help me with one class tomorrow and decide from there.”

You pursed your lips, and Logan could almost hear your internal debate. “You’re not gonna let it go til I do it, are you?”

“Probably not,” he smirked, knowing he’d just got you to agree. Your resulting sigh confirmed it. 

“Fine. One class. No more than that.” In all honesty, you would have agreed just to see his resulting smile. 

“We’ll see about that bub, class starts at one tomorrow.” 

You nodded once, nerves suddenly bubbling in your gut. You were going to teach again, after being out the game for the last two years. Fucking hell you wanted to throw up. But you took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. Maybe this was a good thing. A blessing in disguise. Sure, it had been a while, but maybe Logan was right. Maybe your mutation would only develop under times of stress. You were incredibly stressed today, and look what happened. 

“Alright, I’ll talk to Charles and Scott, see what they say,”

Logan huffed, clearly irate with the idea. “Don’t give a shit what Scott says. He couldn’t help you after almost two hours. I was there for two minutes and you made progress,” he huffed, and you couldn’t help but laugh slightly. Was he… was he jealous? No, that wasn’t possible. What would he have to be jealous about?

“Alright tough guy, rein it in. The way you helped out earlier, it wouldn’t surprise me if Charles is telling him you should be taking over my training,” you hadn’t even thought about it before you said it, but now it was out your mouth, you realised it was entirely plausible. Especially since anyone with eyes or ears could see how much better you got on with Logan than you did Scott. Logan suggested one approach and it worked like a charm.

“Ya think so?” Fuck was the hope in his voice as obvious to you as it was to him? The idea of helping you with your mutation, whilst slightly terrifying, excited him. He couldn’t help but think that would be a learning experience for both of you.

“Yeah, why not? Like you said, Scott couldn’t help after two hours,” you shrugged, hopping off the table. “Anyway, I’m in dire need of a shower and comfier clothing, so I’ll see you in a bit.” Logan almost cried at the thought of you no longer smelling like you do now, and he had half the mind to tell you to forget the shower, you smelt that fucking good. But he also didn’t want the reputation of the weird-smell guy, so instead of trapping you in his arms and begging you not to, he simply nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, see you later.” He grumbled, trying not to be obviously annoyed by the fact the time you’d spent together was coming to an end. You shot him a confused look, before disappearing out the door and up the stairs to your room. Logan stayed for a few more minutes, his eyes closed as he finally let himself get lost in your scent. He wanted you. Fuck he’d only known you for a day and he wanted you. How the hell was he supposed to just behave normally now you were back living here? It simply wasn’t possible. 

He groaned, running a hand down the side of his face. On the one hand, he really wanted to spend more time with you. He was actively looking forward to spending time with you. But on the other, he didn’t know how much longer he could behave himself. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep up this ‘friendly’ banter with you without it crossing the line. Had it already crossed the line?

Jesus Christ, he didn’t even know. He couldn’t help thinking this was likely about to get extremely messy if he didn’t get his shit together. But, at the same time…

He always liked a little mess.

Freshly showered, moisturised and pampered, you lay face up on your bed, your room feeling more like a forest than anything else. The steam from your shower still rolling out from your bathroom, and the more tropical plants you kept seemed to be absolutely thriving. You were thrilled, you really were, but you couldn’t take your mind off the day you’d just had. Not that it was over, it was only five in the afternoon, but so much had happened in the last day it was hard to wrap your head around.

You’d been replaced as a professor, your bedroom stolen, and you’d been informed that the mutation you thought you knew so well wasn’t actually what you thought it was at all, and that it could very well end you in seconds. You’d thrown a fit, broken your hand, dragged shadows toward you and constructed them into a pair of fucking awesome wings, and cooked with a man you’d known all of two minutes.

And the strangest fucking part was that you couldn’t get him off your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was honestly getting a little irritating, seeing his face every time you close your eyes, hearing his laugh when your room got a little too silent. Feeling the ghostly touches of his arms around your waist, his hands on your neck. His breath against your ear. 

You flapped your arms down on your bed in defiance. You would not lie in bed thinking about him all evening. You refused. And luckily, due to an unexpected visit, you didn’t have to.

“He likes you, ya know,”

You screamed, whipping your head back to your door where you saw Kitty strolling in, completely unphased by your reaction. Grabbing one of your pillows, you threw it at her approaching form, watching as it soared straight through her body. Your jaw flapped, completely speechless. “I– Wh– Kitty! You can’t just waltz in here unannounced! Scared me shitless!” you exclaimed, running a stressed hand through your hair.

“Why? I always used to. Been gone that long, huh?” she asked, plopping down on the end of your bed and crossing her legs. 

“Yeah… guess I have,” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for your accommodation to be broken into. The moment rumour got out there was a mutant staying a few streets over the road, you had to move. Sometimes you hadn’t been quick enough and had spent the rest of the evening frantically scrubbing blood from beneath your fingernails, before making a quick exit.

Those were the times on your travels nobody needed to know about. Those were the times you’d keep to yourself. 

You jumped again as your door burst open, a frantic Logan looking you up and down before his eyes darted around the room. “You alright? I heard screaming,” he panted, slightly breathless from clearly having sprinted up the stairs. 

Your heart grew five sizes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Kitty scared the shit out of me, ‘s’all,” you shrugged, too focused on him to notice the woman of the hour beaming wildly, looking between the two of you. 

His shoulders sagged, the man visibly relaxing, his eyes lingering on yours. “Okay…”

“Okay…” you repeated, unable to tame your disobedient smile as he almost awkwardly nodded his head. 

“Right. I’ll uh, yeah. Leave ya to it,” he clicked his tongue, sending you one last glance to make sure you were really okay, before closing the door. 

You sighed, shaking your head fondly, chuckling quietly to yourself. 

“Oh. My. God. You like him too!”

Looking up with unnatural speed, you scoffed, waving your hand dismissively. “The fuck are you talking about?” you asked a little too defensively.

“I’m talking about you and Logan. He clearly likes you, and now I can see that you like him too! Oh, this is so fucking cute, just wait until I tell Marie, she’ll go fucking crazy!” Kitty clapped her hands excitedly, and you had to catch one of her wrists in order to stop her. 

“What are you on about? Logan doesn’t like me, we’re just friends,” oh, was it supposed to hurt that much to say it? But, in all honesty, you don’t think you were ready to confront whatever it was you felt for this man. For now, you were pretty content to bask in not knowing, and being kind of excited about it.

“Mhm? Friends don’t eye fuck in the kitchen.”

You choked. Her tone was so matter-of-fact that if you weren’t actually looking at her, you wouldn’t have believed you were talking to Shadowcat herself, Kitty Pryde. “Kitty! Christ, what happened to you? And we weren’t eye fucking. I was hungry and refused to cook insta-noodles, so we actually made a meal.” You explained. 

“For almost four hours? Meatballs take twenty minutes, twenty-five at a push,”

“We lost track of time!”

“I repeat, for four hours?” she asked again, folding her arms and raising one of her thin brows. You pursed your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else incriminating. “Though as much,”

“I didn’t even say anything!” 

“You didn’t need to, it’s written over your lovestruck face.” She poked her finger toward your nose, and all you could think about was the way Logan flicked your forehead beforehand or the way Logan gave you that little push back in the training room. Or the way Logan–

Christ on a fucking boat when would it end?

“I’m not lovestruck,” you mumbled, dragging your knees up to your chest. You debated telling Kitty about your predicament with your mutation, for the sole reason of explaining why you and Logan were spending so much time together recently, but you didn’t think you could bear the look on her face. The only ones who knew, to your understanding, were Scott, as the leader of the team, Jean, as the leading scientist, Charles for obvious reasons, and Logan because you told him. You didn’t really want another person to know your problems, especially not Kitty. 

You couldn’t bear to see her face when you told her you weren’t a phaser anymore. The mere thought broke your heart. You had matching mugs and everything. You couldn’t do that to her. Let alone sharing the idea that your mutation could simply not allow you to return back to the corporeal world one day, and you’d be stuck as nothing but wondering consciousness in the shadows for, effectively, all eternity. That was a little too morbid to talk about even with Logan.

“He’s just… helping me get back into the swing of things. I haven’t been a teacher for a long time, Kit, and since he took my position, he’s offered to help me–”

“Get back into teaching! Oh my god, he has, hasn’t he? That’s so exciting! I thought you didn’t want to get back into it?” She asked, untucking her legs and swinging them around so she was now lying comfortably on your bed, her head propped up on her elbow. 

“Well, we’re not getting ahead of ourselves, but yeah, that’s the idea. Gonna help him with his class tomorrow…” you trailed off, your heart beginning to accelerate at the thought of teaching your first class in two years. “So yeah, that’s why we’ve been spending so much time together. It’s nothing serious, promise! Plus, since most of the new students are kids I found, he’s pretty much the only person I don’t know here.” You flopped back down onto your bed, angling your head so you could still see her.

There was a moment of comfortable silence, a moment to let the conversation settle and for your heart to slow a little, before Kitty spoke up again. “He was really excited to meet you,” she offered quietly, and your brows raised subconsciously. “Everytime someone started talking about you, he’d tune in. He was subtle, but Marie noticed it first, and she told me to look out for it. He was looking forward to meeting you for the best part of a year.”

You took a deep breath. That couldn’t possibly be true. “You’re good at seeing things that aren’t there, Kit. I love you for it, but sometimes things really aren’t that deep,” you explained softly, trying your hardest not to smile at the image of Logan only tuning into the conversation if it was about you. It was definitely a stretch of the imagination, but it was a pleasant one.

“Yeah yeah, you watch. I’ll be keeping an eye on your totally platonic relationship with Professor Howlett but mark my words, you’ll be together by the end of the month,” Kitty smacked your calf to emphasise her point, and you shook your leg threateningly, laughing at the notion. 

“I cannot wait to see you eat your words. I’m sure they’ll taste of falsehoods and regret.” You flashed her a toothy grin, and she stuck her tongue out in retaliation. You’d missed moments like these. In all honesty, you hadn’t realised how lonely the last two years had been. Hadn’t realised how starved of friendship you’d been until you found yourself talking and laughing amongst friends again. You didn’t realise how much you’d missed this place until you came home again, to both the old friends, and the new. 

[chappellroansdreamgirl]

ellie with a mean gf!

(prjoecting like a mf rn...)

a/n - i have been very unmotivated to write full-fleshed stuff so i'm deciding to write drabbles/headcannons for now. also THANK YOU FOR ALL THE ATTENTION ON CH.1 OF GOOD LUCK, BABE! it makes my heart smile that you guys love it so much... also😭😭...: @sweetcici11 srry that i lied and said ur fic would be out a few nights ago. i'm really trying to finish it but i don't want to rush it and it be shitty. i really want it to be enjoyable and as good as it can be. but i PROMISE you it WILL be posted... sooner or later! i also have a few more drafts to finish too, so, i hope you guys like them when they come out!!!!!

content warnings - fluff, i'm a bitch and i want to feel loved and think that someone can put up with my cuntiness😝😝 , over-usage of commas probably, i think they're low-key kind of toxic?!?!?!?! , guys i promise i'm not this bad i've just been pretty insufferable these last few days and need an outlet 😭😭 .

i wrote way more than i thought i was going to...

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- you both hated each other at first. ...well actually, you hated her, and she was like, "😞😞" and then got used to it after a while and started being mean back 2 u!!

- dina introduced ellie to you when you both were hanging out with her. "you guys are going to love each other🥰!" ... you didn't 🤗 !

- ellie said hi to you and all you did was look her up and down, stare at her for a few seconds and then turn your head.

- everytime ellie would (attempt to) strike up a conversation you would give an overtly enthusiastic response or just stare at her like she had two heads or just blatantly ignore her. dina is over there like, '😟😟 . can we not have one good day...' when dina would leave for short periods of time and ellie was sure that you didn't like her, she would just talk about anything to get your blood boiling, our girl lllloooovvveessss to push buttons, we know this to be true.

- it got worse yet more tolerable after that. whenever she'd see you at gatherings or parties, you'd do your damnest to stay away from/avoid her. and she'd do her damnest to get you as upset with her as possible. it always ended with not-so-playful not-so-friendly banter!

- you were talking with jesse about something on the couch, and ellie came over and DELIBERATELY, DELIBERATELY... interrupted you 🤗 ! :

you shoot daggers at her face with your eyes, your jaw set hard and your eyes narrowed.

ellie tried to feign innocence, raising a brow at you after she looked over to see your facial expressions long after she felt them.. "what are you looking at me like that for🤨🤨?" , "i was fucking talking, you're being rude." , "if i have to get used to you being a bitch, you got to do the same." , you just huffed at her response and crossed your arms before walking off a few minutes after, realizing that the conversation you were having with jesse earlier was indeed over. ellie smirked to herself, victory was her's!

- she started calling you the nickname brat out of the blue... it blindsided tf out of you. here's the origin story!:

you look at ellie with a disgusted look on your face as she exhales smoke. her glazed over eyes meet yours before she offers the joint to you, out of genuine kindness. "want a hit?" she asked, forgetting how much of a bitch you were for, like, 0.2 seconds. you glare at her for a moment longer before plastering a sarcastic smile on your face, snatching the joint from her fingertips and dropping it onto the floor. you kept her eyes on yours as you stomped and smushed it into the ground.

now she remembered.

she stood up instantaneously, she was pissed. "what the fuck?!" she shouted, earning a few looks from some friends across the room. they strained their necks for a little bit before they saw you, it made sense now, and then turned back to the conversation.

you close your eyes for a slight second as a satisfied smile graced the corners of your lips. "you know i don't smoke, ellie." you responded with in a condescendingly sweet voice.

she didn't even argue with you. "you're such a fuckin' brat." she muttered under her breath before walking away. you had to try your very best to ignore the heartbeat in your pussy. (🤗!)

- she didn't get to see how much effect that title had on you that night, but she noticed afterwards.

- one time you didn't say anything to ellie during a hangout, distracted by someone you disliked more than her. ellie kind of missed it☹️☹️ .

you were brought out of your thoughts when you felt her cold hand touch your shoulder. when you noticed it was her who was doing it, you pulled back with a furrow of her brows. ellie smiled. there she was.

"you haven't said one mean thing to me since i've gotten here. are you dying?"

you scoffed as you pointed in the direction your anger was radiating from. it was a girl ellie saw here and there in jackson, sometimes she was paired with her during patrols, she wasn't crazy about her but she paid no mind to her existence.

"what?- what does this have to do with me-"

"what it has to do with you, is that you should feel honored that i can tolerate you... can't fuckin' stand that bitch."

ellie scoffed before speaking up once more, "oh, c'mon you're being dramatic. don't be a brat."

your eyes went wide for a second and as you turned away, she could see the cheek that was facing her turn an embarrassing shade of red. she found your weakness.

- when you guys started dating, no one, and i mean NO ONE, believed it. (i don't feel like writing how u two got together maybe if y'all like this enough i'll make a full-fleshed oneshot abt it😭.)

- joel saw you guys together... like, not arguing, and HER head on YOUR shoulder... he thought he got laced with acid for a quick second there... jesse felt like he missed a couple chapters and felt very sad that he hadn't caught onto it quicker... and dina was so proud of herself, "told you, you guys would love each other 😁." she's so smug, I LOVE HER!

- she constantly has to reprimand you like you're a child when you guys are around someone you obviously don't like for whatever reason. once whoever left the room, ellie'll pinch your shoulder or your thigh, whatever skin is on display at the moment, not too hard, just to get you to wince a bit. you'll make a face at her afterwards. "ow, what the fuck was that for ellie?" , "we can talk shit when we get home, don't make a scene🙄." you stress her out sometimes...

- just bcs you guys are together DOES NOT mean your attitude has gone away.

whenever ellie and you have gotten in an argument, you're always being extra sarcastic and EXTRA BITCHY just to get on her nerves.

"baby, have you seen my gun?" she asks you, breaking the silence voluntarily as she's two minutes from being late to patrol.

you don't look up to her, you keep on looking at the pages of an old magazine. "idk ellie, did you check to see if it was shoved up your ass."

she just stands there for a second like this 🧍‍♀️ , before sighing and walking somewhere else to find it. "i'll fuckin' deal with you later." she mutters under her breath, obviously annoyed. you smirk to yourself as you flip another page.

- she does love, however, that you've gotten gentler with her since the relationship blossomed between you two. very few people (dina and ellie... sometimes jesse.) can get you to stop, and ellie is proud of herself that she could add beast-tamer to the top of her list of many skills and talents.

- sometimes she has to calm you down, sometimes all it takes is a stare in your direction. ... well, it's oftentimes a glare... you're your own woman/person and a relationship will not restrict you from showing off your talents!!!!!

- ellie has to constantly keep you from getting into arguments that could harm you physically. although your craft of bitchery is amazing, you can't fight to save your life.

she'll be pulling you back like an angry barking dog on a leash.

"i could've fucking took h-" , "you overestimate yourself a lot, baby."

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 1

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem) A/N: I don't know what I'm doing here, I'm not even much of a DC fan, but Jason Todd has quickly become my latest hyper fixation character (Harley Quinn too, do I just have a thing for Joker victims???) so ... thank you for giving me a place to put this energy I guess! 😂 I'm not super confident on the characterizations, but I'm going with it because I like it. If it's wildly ooc ... that tracks, given that the only DC comic I've read is Batman: Wayne Family Adventures. Read it, or don't, I just needed to get the thoughts out of my head. The art doesn't belong to me, but the writing does. Please do not post elsewhere!

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, starting out fluffy, will probably get NSFW later so minors DNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

word count: 1.7k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

In a city known for its masked fighters, you learn pretty quickly that everyone and everything is a potential threat. Every approaching stranger on the street, every loud sound behind you, every dark alleyway. Being bigger than me certainly isn't a prerequisite to being a danger, but it does have a way of setting off my mental alarms. I've found that big men are used to getting their way, and they get all sorts of bent out of shape if you deny them their wishes. Especially when they think they're doing you a favor.

It died down a bit after high school; I learned to exist in public with ‘fuck off’ stamped across my face. Headphones on, reading a book, intentionally seated at the table furthest from the other cafe patrons. All the typical signs of someone who wants to be left alone; nothing about me said ‘please come talk to me'. So I was understandably on edge when I noticed someone standing by the chair across from me. I look up just a bit, gesturing to the chair with a nod. Silent consent to take it back to his table and leave me to my book.

No such luck. The man simply smiled and mimed taking headphones off. Putting a bored look on my face, I moved one off my ear. “... Hm?”

“Hi! I'm sorry to bother you, but my brother thinks you're really beautiful and is refusing to come tell you himself.” 

I could feel my expression turning to stone. “... What is this, middle school?”

His cheerful grin faltered ever so slightly; “hey, I know it's a bit silly, but he's awkward around cute girls, so what's a brother to do, ya know?”

I stared him down; “... You're not fooling anyone. Move on.”

“... Sorry, ‘fooling anyone’?”

“It’s not funny, it’s not even hurtful the 20th time, it's just annoying. Go. Away.” It was a lie; it was always painful to be on the receiving end of these pranks. But that was what these guys wanted, so I wasn't going to tell him that. My headphones back in place, the guy slunk away.

Ten minutes later, another person was standing by the chair. I pretended not to see him, continuing to read my book, until he plopped down in the seat. I looked up slowly and he smiled, another oddly warm smile, leaning forward on his elbows.

An incredibly put-out sigh later, I slid the headphones off one ear again. “What?”

“Hi, I'm Tim! I'm not sure what exactly my brother said to you, but I wanted to let you know - we're not trying to prank you or something. Our brother is just way too awkward with girls. It's painful to watch, really, so we figured we'd give him a hand.” He spoke much too fast for me to get a word in. I blinked a bit, raising an eyebrow.

“... You frat boys are really committing to the bit these days, huh?”

“Huh? No, really, I promise!”

My headphones were nearly back into place when a child showed up. His impatient expression matched how I felt about the whole situation. “As usual, Drake, your plans are far too convoluted to be effective. Watch and learn.”

He turned to me, nothing about his demeanor changing; “hello. Todd said we shouldn't bother you because you ‘clearly want to be alone’, but I am convinced the only way to stop their nonsense is if he comes over. May he have a moment of your time?”

Frowning a little, I stared at the kid. He stared right back, neither of us blinking for a solid minute as we sussed each other out. His expression barely changed, but the boredom in his eyes turned into determination. “... Well, you're definitely not a frat boy. So I'll make you a deal; you may report back that he has permission to come say hi. If he doesn't choose to, that's the end of this little charade. And if either of them” I gestured to the one sitting at my table; “comes back over here, I start stabbing. Got it?”

The boy nodded once, and I thought I saw a ghost of a smirk. “You have my word.” He dragged the other man out of the chair by his shirt, pulling him stumbling toward their table. That was when I saw him. The only person at their table who hadn't come over yet. Even hunched over the table he was enormous, probably close to six feet tall; exactly the kind of man I typically avoided. The kid spoke sharply, pointing in my direction, and his head shot up to look in my direction. Even from across the spacious patio, I could see his face turning red. The obnoxious, cocky smirk I was expecting to see was entirely missing; instead he seemed almost confused.

Headphones back on but turned off so I could hear if he approached, I returned to my book. But I only got through a few pages before the first one shouted; “and offer to get her another coffee or something!”

I looked over to see the tall one frozen halfway between our tables, a look on his face like he was considering jumping over the patio fence to get away. His demeanor reminded me of a lost puppy, and I couldn't help the chuckle that rose up out of my throat. I bookmarked my page, set the book aside, and slid my headphones down around my neck. I really thought he was about to bolt until I lifted one hand, curling my fingers to gesture for him to continue toward me.

He stopped short by a good several feet, eyeing the distance between himself and the chair, and took one extra step back. It seemed as if he was hyper aware of just how much he loomed over me; the way he stood was like he was trying to will himself to be smaller, and he kept his hands at his sides. “Um … hi. … Sorry, this is … this is really weird …”

I nodded, watching him. “It is a bit. … Todd, was it?”

“Jay… Jason.”

“Not Todd?”

“Jason Todd. Damian calls me Todd, he thinks using people's last names keeps them at an arm's length…” Jason Todd. The name felt familiar, but I couldn't place why. He continued to ramble about how important tone was in determining whether this Damian kid was referring to you with affection or disdain, and I watched him. He was admittedly very cute; he had a sort of a bad boy aesthetic -leather jacket, dark clothes, a white streak in his hair, some unusual scars on his face and arms-, which juxtaposed interestingly with the gentleness in his voice, bright eyes, and awkward mannerisms. That was actually the thing that made the most sense about this situation; bikers are often secret teddy bears.

“... Jason?”

He looked up at me, one hand sheepishly making its way into his hair. “Yeah, sorry, you want me to go. I'll get them to stop harassing you, so sorry-”

“Actually, I was going to say you don't have to stand the whole time.” I gestured to the chair across from me.

He hesitated, watching me. “... Y- you don't want me to go?”

I smiled softly and shook my head. “Sit?”

He quickly obeyed, a hesitant smile on his face, which was almost immediately hidden by his hand when his brothers whooped from their table. “... God, I'm so sorry … th- they mean well, really, they're not trying to be weird …”

I laughed softly, “it's fine, that's what siblings do, right?”

“... I guess so … I've been sort of … away for a while, but I guess this is pretty standard sibling behavior. … Right?”

“I mean, a little more insistent than mine, but not too far outside the realm of what I’d consider normal.” I shrugged, finishing my chai latte.

He smiled slightly, considering that. “... Hm … um … c- can I get you another?” He gestured to my cup.

“... Sure, I've got time.”

The pleased grin on his face as he looked away to flag down a server surprised me. Then again, everything about him was surprising. Still, no one had ever looked at me quite like that before… 

The server sauntered over, clearly curious about my new companion. Jason smiled brightly; “Hi, can we get another for the lady? And I'll have a medium black coffee, sweet, please.”

Huh. He called me a ‘lady’. Not a girl, or a chick, a lady. That was … also surprising. We chatted for a little while, sipping our coffees, and tried to ignore his staring brothers. He was incredibly awkward, in a sweet, endearing way. I got the impression that he wasn't fully comfortable, but chalked it up to how weirdly this all started. After a while, the first one returned, a small grimace on his face.

I raised an eyebrow; “I'm pretty sure I told the little one that the next one of you to come over was getting stabbed.”

“I know, I know! I'm so sorry, but Jay, we gotta go. Bruce texted…”

That was when it clicked; why I knew the name Jason Todd. He was a Wayne … his death had dominated the news cycle for a week. His miraculous, frankly poorly explained, return was the story for at least two.

He looked, torn, between me and his brother. “Oh … um …”

The man I finally recognized as Dick Grayson leaned forward and fake-whispered, “the words you're looking for are ‘can I have your phone number'?”

Jason swatted him away, blushing bright red; “Seriously, Dick? … well, can I-”

His ears were turning red as I held my hand out for his phone. I added my contact info and, feeling unusually bold, I added ☕💖 after my name while Jason dropped a couple of bills on the table; I smiled a bit, realizing he was leaving enough to cover my first drink for me too. I passed his phone back, enjoying the look of wonder on his face when he checked the screen. The way he whispered my name, like a prayer meant only for god's ears, had my stomach doing backflips.

“thanks … I'll call you?”

“Sounds good. I'm a night owl, so not too early, yeah?”

He nodded eagerly. “Not too early, promise.”

Next ->

[nctstar]

poly! nct 127 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ threesome ver.

hard dom members x sub reader

pairing: nct 127 x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

genre: smut

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni! everything is consensual, hard dom members, heavy degradation and bsdm content (don't read if triggering), safeword discussed, oral (male and female receiving), rough penetrative sex (unprotected, please be safe irl), manhandling, hair pulling, painplay + impact play (whipping), face slapping + spanking, squirting, fingering, clitoral stimulation, double penetration (same hole), a lot of crying, begging, sexual punishment, daddy kink, kissing, anal (female receiving), multiple orgasms + overstimulation, intense orgasms, mentioning ex during sex, handjob, hand over mouth (female receiving), profanity, (everything is really messy idk how to write this so you hopefully get what i mean)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. everything is consensual and safewords/limits have been discussed prior to the scene - sex is only sex when it's fun for both parties, please keep this in mind <3

a/n: EDIT haechan was paired with a past member of nct 127 and so that section has been removed.

so um...here's this. I was running on matcha coffee 3 hours of sleep and 2 episodes of pretty little liars all before 9am yesterday when something in my body just felt COMPELLED to write this, so here it is :D also labyrinth ch 2 is COMINGG i just need time to write it in a good way, but i've planned the entire thing and am excited to see how it ends up. also, i've decided to make poly! nct a series, not quite sure if i'll keep the same pairings or how this will work but it won't only be smut, i plan to write lots of different types of scenarios for them. anyways, love you, bye for now xx

Mark & Taeyong ~ Thighs slipping against each other, water dripping down to your ankles as you stumbled towards Taeyong’s parted legs. “Bend over.” He commanded, but you felt the shove before you could, pushing you forward with a gasp. Mark’s open hand now pressing down on the shallow bend of your back, he toyed with the strings of your bikini bottom, chuckling darkly at your every whine. Taeyong grabbed your chin roughly, forcing your face inches away from his. You winched as his grip tightened, hard enough to leave bruises. “Fucking slut.” Your heart hammered as you felt the cold air hit your now bare core and ass, Mark squeezing the plush of your behind as he groaned in pleasure. “Fuck, she’s so sexy.” He drawled. The panic began to quicken, pouring down your veins like ice water when you felt the wood-hard bulb of his dick press against your exposed hole. Eyes watering, you begged, not quite sure what you were begging for. “Please, please, p-please…” Mark slapped your ass in response, the tears now rolling down your cheeks as you cried out. Your vision whitened, side of your face stinging as Taeyong slapped you, twice, the edges of his ring marking a spot underneath your cheekbones. “Bend the fuck over. All the way.” You nodded as you cried, shutting your eyes as you held your ankles and let your head hang down, the blood rush making you delirious.

The pain and pleasure made your legs tremble, losing control of your body, gripping until you felt the bony edges of your ankles, moans ripping themselves from your throat as Mark bottomed out. “So big, please…” You gasped, as if his cock choked you from the inside. You babbled apologies, shaking your head when you heard the sound of Taeyong’s zipper above Mark’s sloppy thrusts. “Please, n-no…no more, I can-nghh,” you trailed off, feeling your own release grease your inner thighs, shame pooling in the bottom of your stomach. “We’re not done here, slut. No safe word means you still want this. Stupid whore.” Taeyong groaned as he pumped himself to his full hardness, watching you shakily squat down to the cold tiles, listening for any signs of protest. You stayed quiet, heaving, a sudden urge to let go as your head throbbed from your last orgasm. You felt Mark wrap one arm around your lower stomach, pressing down hard and lifting you off the ground. You squealed, trying to push his arm away, the muscles bulging underneath his skin. “You’re too rough with m-me…” Your knees hit the cold tiles as Taeyong pushed his length into your mouth, another hand holding you in place and gripping your hair tight. “Can you cum like this? Hmm?” Your head spun, pussy throbbing from the humiliation, Mark’s legs now caging your body as you stared up at Taeyong, cock bruising the back of your throat. Your pleas were lost around his length as Mark began to press his fingertips into your scalp, making you sob. “What’s the matter? Too rough?” He teased, his laugh searing into your brain. You pressed your thighs together as something sent you over the edge, making you spray all over the tiles like a rabid animal. As you gasped for air, Taeyong kept thrusting in your mouth, groaning as he came, moonlight hitting the sheen on his skin as you swallowed every last drop.

Jaehyun & Johnny~ “Faster, sweetie.” His words dripped sticky like honey in the shell of your ear. Your legs wobbled, biting your lip so hard you tasted rusted metal. With Jaehyun’s semi-hard cock nestled inside of you, you tried to grind your hips quicker, earning a satisfied groan from Johnny. “Good girl.” You moaned in pleasure, shockwaves of euphoria running through your body, but moments later, Johnny gripped you around the waist, fingers digging harshly into the plush of your sides. “But not fast enough.” You whimpered, knowing what comes next. Jaehyun brought one arm up to wrap around your shoulders, pulling your face into the crook of his neck. As you shook your head, he shushed you quietly. “Wanna use your safe word?” You shook your head, and Jaehyun held you tighter against him, the fingers of his other hand travelling down to press down on your clit. “Such a nasty little doll for us to fuck.” You moaned when he sped up, tears flowing down your cheeks as you came. “So quick to cum too. Open.” You thought he meant open your eyes, so it took you by surprise when he pressed his fingers past your slightly parted lips, pressing down on your tongue until drool ran down your chin. “Silly girl.”

Your body jerked when you felt the thick tip of Johnny’s cock press against you. You gazed pleadingly at Jaehyun, as if to beg for mercy. “Can’t even use our cocks right. Gotta do all the work ourselves. Stupid girl.” You buried your face into Jaehyun as the heat of embarrassment blossomed across your face, but Johnny wasn’t having it. One quick wrap around his wrist and your head was yanked back, scalp burning from the impact, stray strands of hair falling limply across your face. “What do you say, hmm?” The stretch burned deliciously as he continued to push inside you, tucking himself right next to Jaehyun, so good you forgot how to breathe. “Mnghh, y-yes, s-so good, please, please, Daddy, l-love it, love being stuffed…” Your mouth slackened as an unexpected orgasm rendered you numb. When your senses returned, you felt Jaehyun grind his hips upwards in smooth, fluid, quick snaps, while Johnny pounded you from the back. You cried as you felt another orgasm be torn from you, piece by piece. “F-fuck, oh my god!” Johnny’s arms wrapped around your neck, your fingernails tearing at his biceps for air as you squirted hard over both of them. “Please, Daddy, can’t-“ As he released you, letting you fall onto Jaehyun’s toned torso, you cried, stuttering in between shaky breaths. “T-thank, you, thank you…”

Jungwoo & Yuta~ You couldn’t see anything, but you knew it was him. You’d recognise his lips anywhere, tongue slithering up inside you like snakes. “J-Jungwoo.”

You heard the whip crack before you felt it, a diagonal line on your back, white-hot pain seeping into your body. You fought a sob as Jungwoo kissed your neck, the lips on your core still sucking and kissing your sensitive folds. “Wrong.”

He waited for you to give you the all-clear, to nod, letting him know you were still good to continue before he left your side, and it was silent again.

You yelped in surprise as you felt someone nip at your chest, one hand pressing your back to keep you still. You whimpered, the sudden jolts of pain making your body writhe under his arms. “Y-yuta.”

You were released immediately, but your breathing remained laboured. For a second you thought you were wrong again, and you held your breath, squeezing your eyes even though you were blindfolded. “Correct. Last one.” You felt your head be yanked back by your hair, making you yelp. “A-ah, it hurts…” You feel something rub against your lips, the shape and texture making you quickly realise it was a cock. You whimpered involuntarily, knowing this one would make or break this game. You swirled your tongue around the end, sucking on the tip, kissing blindly around the shaft, your lips meeting the softer skin of the balls as you did. “Jungwoo.” You continued kissing, sucking, bringing your hands up to cup his balls, and that’s when you heard him groan. “Fuck. So filthy, isn’t she, Yuta?”

He laughed, and you felt the air between your legs. He sucked your clit, making you moan onto Jungwoo’s length. “A-ah, feels good…” Yuta hummed into your core. “Filthy sluts like you…” he kissed you, “…deserve…” he swirled his tongue inside you, holding your knees down when they rebounded upwards to move away from his mouth, “to cum over, and over…” You came with a cry as he sucked relentlessly, but you were cut off by Jungwoo pushing his cock inside you, making you gag noisily. “If you like my cock so much, let me give it to you.” Dizzy with relief, Jungwoo lay you on your back, the sheets slipping against your bare skin as you slid your body upwards. Yuta held you down, pressing your stomach into the mattress, watching as your back arched off the sheets rhythmically, tits rolling with each movement. “S-so good, fuck, f-fuck…” Your legs felt like jelly as Jungwoo held your face in place, the new angle over you allowing him to thrust in your mouth, the weight of gravity making his cock heavier than usual. Balls slapping against your chin, you felt it bulge in your throat, wrapping your fingers around yourself to feel it slip in and out of you. He pulled out slowly, a slurry of coughs and moans filling the air as you felt yourself cum onto Yuta’s face, his fingers rubbing the inside of your knees to ground you. You babbled incoherently, not knowing whether you wanted Yuta to stop, for Jungwoo to leave. The tip of Jungwoo’s cock on your lips brought to back to Earth. “Give me a kiss.” You kissed him diligently. “Y-yes sir, love this c-cock so much…” He came all over your ruined face to finish the job, just as you felt Yuta press himself inside you, sensitive clit screaming from the stretch.

Doyoung & Jaehyun~ “Stop, s-stop…” Jaehyun halted his fingers as you shuffled your bare body on his satin pants, pressing your legs together to centre yourself in the midst of your post-orgasmic haze. “Already came.” Jaehyun leant his head over your shoulder, bringing your naked body closer to his. “I know, sweetie. Wanna see you make another mess…” He brought his hands closer to your core, watching and waiting for you to protest. You didn’t. You were watching Doyoung, watching the way his shirt hung off him desperately, inches of his body peeking out from under the fabric. “Like what you see?” You moaned unexpectedly when Jaehyun dug his fingers inside you, running his fingers across your spongy walls. “A-ah…” Your mouth hung open, the pleasure more intense than before. Doyoung walked across to tilt your chin upwards, wrapping his fingers around your jaw while his thumb ran across your swollen bottom lip. “What was that you said about your ex? How he made you finish so hard you had to throw away your sheets?” The implications of his words somehow made that knot in your stomach tighten, every stroke of Jaehyun’s fingers now bringing you to the edge of euphoria. “Answer me.” He squeezed your cheeks as you made guttural noises, your orgasm hitting you at once. Jaehyun sped up his fingers, not caring when he felt your insides grip him like a vice, as it begging him to slow down. The slap of his palm against your clit was brutal, and Doyoung pressed his open palm against your mouth. “If you’re not gonna answer me, then you don’t deserve to speak, whore.” Tears sprung to your eyes as you grabbed at Doyoung’s wrist, pleading. He watched you carefully. “Nod if you remember the signal that replaces the safeword.” You nodded eagerly, and he stepped closer to you, his other hand now pushing the back of your head into his palm, holding your head in place.

“Finish me off. Hurry up.” You grabbed at his pants, the silky fabric slipping away as you wrapped your hands around his length. He groaned, bringing your head to his stomach as he let go of your mouth, letting you breathe into his stomach. “Good girl. Stay quiet now.” You whimpered, losing count of the times you had already came. Jaehyun pulled his fingers out, pressing onto your clit now. You lifted your head off Doyoung. “Nghh, wait, not there…” Doyoung smacked your head in warning, making tears spring to your eyes. “This is why you haven’t squirted yet. We’re too nice to you. Always listening to you, treating you like a princess. When all you are is a dirty whore.” His words made the tears run down your face, but you were turned on more than ever. Jaehyun sucked at your neck aggressively, his voice deep and sonorous. “We’re not finished until you’ve squirted hard enough to ruin these pants. Then once again around my cock. And then around his.” You wailed, feeling your orgasm approach you in towering phases. “Ah, ah, feels w-weird, fuck, wait, I think I’m gon-“ You were cut off by Doyoung’s fingers, pressing inside you while Jaehyun drew circles on your clit. “Don’t fucking stop jerking me off. Don’t care if you’re cumming.” You threw your head back, quickening each flick of your wrist as you felt yourself reach your high, each cry more intense than the last. Legs shaking, you felt the wetness come out of you in quick bursts, fingers spreading it all over the three of you, through clothes and onto skin.  

[msnihilist]

Idea for a fic I just had, sharing it because I will probably never write it:

CH.1

During "Lost in Fairy World," Hazel and Dev stumble upon Timmy's old Chosen One statue, of himself holding the White Wand. Hazel is intrigued to see a statue of a human in Fairy World, and wonders if he was a godchild, like them. Dev doesn't really care, and is exceedingly jealous of whatever this human did to get himself memorialized this way.

When Cosmo, Wanda, and Peri catch up with the kids, Hazel asks about the statue. (She's already got her own amazing story written in her head, lol.) Dev says something to the effect of, "What did this loser do to get a statue of himself?"

Peri immediately takes offense to that, snapping that Dev isn't allowed to call him a loser. "Well, why not? What's so great about him?" "He's my brother."

Wanda and Cosmo are very uncomfortable with this conversation and visibly saddened. But they tell an abridged version of the story since the kids are curious and Peri didn't really remember it all, since he was a baby at the time.

Through the story, Wanda and Cosmo get caught up reminiscing, getting stuck on the funny little details and wishfully recounting their misadventures with Timmy. It's clear that they love him very much. (Hazel isn't jealous. She isn't.)

Hazel asks where Timmy is now and doesn't get an answer. After the five of them get back to Earth, Cosmo and Wanda retire early for the night and Peri is quiet with Dev, too.

CH.2

Dev thinks that they should track this "Timmy Turner" down. (He wants to prove that he's better than this guy, but doesn't want to admit to himself why he wants Peri's love/attention like that.) Hazel thinks they should leave well-enough alone, because talking about Timmy made their fairies so sad. (Sad like how she gets sad about Antony, but at least she can call her brother. None of the fairies spoke about Timmy in the present tense.)

Dev convinces her by saying that it'll make them happy if they can reunite the fairies with Timmy. Hazel reluctantly agrees.

It's pretty easy to track Timmy down. Turns out that he lives in the city, and his buckteeth are the same as they are on the statue. Dev and Hazel immediately clock him. They come up with an excuse to talk to Timmy by stealing his wallet and then "kindly" returning it to him. After which, Hazel insistently talks about anything and everything to Timmy, because what's he gonna do? Tell two kids to fuck off?? No, he's a polite adult and he endures this weird interaction.

Except Hazel and Dev then keep following Timmy around, learning his schedule so they can keep talking to him. Hazel needles little details about Timmy's life out of him, and realizes that he's lonely and clearly missing something. This makes her determined to reunite him with Cosmo and Wanda (even though a part of her desperately doesn't want to share). Dev is still convinced that Timmy is a loser. He speculates that there's no way this guy saved the planet, and Cosmo and Wanda were probably just talking him up.

Either way, Hazel slowly forces Timmy to be friends with her. He is an adult, so he's slow to admit that he's lonely enough to be friends with a ten-year-old, but Hazel reminds him of a kind girl he used to be friends with as a kid wears him down and he grows to tolerate and then even enjoy running into her around the city.

CH.3

Hazel eventually arranges for Timmy to meet her at the fountain, and also asks Cosmo and Wanda to be there in their human forms. She's super excited for them to finally meet again!! (Dev doesn't tell Peri about this — he doesn't want to admit that he's worried it will go too well if they do meet up again.)

Except that when Timmy arrives, Cosmo and Wanda aren't happy to see him. They look completely devastated. Timmy greets Hazel and awkwardly introduces himself to Cosmo and Wanda. Cosmo bursts into tears and flees. Wanda sticks around long enough to mumble an excuse and then also leaves. Timmy is confused, and Hazel doesn't know what she did wrong.

When she finds Cosmo and Wanda, they confess that they have been keeping an eye on Timmy. How could they not, you know? But it hurt too much to see him living his own life, doing fine without them. They started godparenting Hazel in part to have a distraction, so that they aren't thinking about Timmy and aren't watching him. Seeing him in person brought those ten-thousand years of hurt to the surface.

They also explain to Hazel that Timmy doesn't remember them at all, and that's the worst part — that all of the love they had for each other ended up meaning nothing at all, that they got too close to a godkid and paid the price and there's nothing they can do about it.

Hazel is crushed, but also not giving up. She tells them that Timmy does need them, he's an adult but his life is still empty. No one ever really stops needing their parents.

Wanda, tearfully, says, "But we're not his parents." That's the reality of their situation, and they have to face it no matter how much it hurts.

CH.4

Her plan a bust, Hazel leaves Wanda and Cosmo alone and goes to talk to Dev about what happened. She wonders how awful Peri must feel, sympathizing that she wouldn't know what to do with herself if she just woke up one day and Antony didn't remember her.

Dev (who is getting really fed up with hearing about Timmy) can't and refuses to empathize. He says that he's always been fine as an only child, and if he's supposed to be a "distraction" for Peri, then the least he could do is act like Dev is a priority instead of moping about someone who doesn't even care about him all day.

Hazel asks where all of this is coming from, Dev sneers that Peri hasn't been the same since they visited the statue. Peri doesn't talk about it, but it's clearly about Timmy. Hazel tells him that Peri is obviously hurting, and Dev snaps that he's hurting, too, and Peri should be doing his job. (Why do people only care about him when its their job?)

Hazel simply asks Dev why he's hurting, and Dev freezes. He doesn't really know how to articulate all of his upset and anger, and that forces him to pause and quiet himself. He then admits to Hazel that everyone is so obsessed with Timmy, even she's been hanging out with that loser more than him. And Dev just. Misses them. Wants attention. He wonders if anyone will care about him if he were to disappear, the way that the fairies care about Timmy.

Hazel assures him that she would care. She'd cry over him for 10,000 years at least! Which makes Dev giggle, even though he's still trying to be upset. Still, Hazel apologizes. She was trying to make everyone happy, and she didn't realize that she was failing him. Dev brushes her apology off, saying, "It's not your job to make me happy — it's Peri's. He's just been slacking."

Hazel also admits that she's jealous of Timmy, too. She feels bad for being jealous, but that doesn't mean that she's not. She knows that Cosmo and Wanda love her, but she also knows that she'll never replace Timmy for them.

The fairies finally reveal that they were listening the whole time. (After they left, Cosmo and Wanda went to Peri to tell him about what Hazel and Dev were doing behind their backs. Peri is at first upset that Dev kept Timmy a secret from him, but also acknowledges that he isn't really surprised. Dev is a complicated, hurt kid, and he needs more than what Peri has been giving him, especially lately.)

Cosmo assures Hazel that she can't replace Timmy, but no one could replace her, either. She's wonderful all on her own, and Cosmo and Wanda adore her — they wouldn't want her any other way.

Peri apologizes to Dev for not doing his job. Dev awkwardly accepts, then tells Peri that his job is to grant wishes, not "care" about Dev. Peri teases him by saying, "If that was my job, I would be working over-time." He says that Dev isn't a "distraction," at all, and that if Peri didn't want to be with him, he could leave at any time. Reaffirming that he's here because he wants to be spurs Dev into hugging Peri, albeit only briefly.

With all of the apologies and hugs out of the way, Dev asks to see Da Rules. He flips to the section about losing your fairies and says, "It says here that a godchild must lose memories of their fairies and all things magic... But it doesn't say that another godchild couldn't wish those memories back."

The fic ends with Timmy at the fountain again. Hazel approaches with Dev, and the fairies in their human forms. She asks Timmy if he remembers the three of them. Timmy confesses that he doesn't. Hazel grins: "I wish that you did."

Fin

[the-prettiest-teardrop]

Second Chance Ch. 1

Pairing- Childhoodbestfriend!Steve x Introverted!reader

Warnings- Drunk Steve, Alcohol mention, Steve being an asshole, regret, kissing.

A/N- This was so fun to write, and part 2 should be out soon. This actually hit close to home tho cuz I got dumped by my childhood bestie right after lockdown ended

———

Steve-fucking-Harrington, childhood best friend, turned to someone you considered an enemy.

Elementary school was great, sitting on the porch together, eating popsicles, fighting over who was the faster runner. Middle school wasn’t bad either, minus a few arguments and awkward moments. Late nights were spent lying in your backyard, giggling and gossiping over who had a crush on who, and who was dating who. This was around the time you started noticing his popularity rise, more girls were starting to take interest in him, I mean, yourself included, but that was something he never knew. High school is when things went downhill, rather than laughing with him on the porch, you sat alone, staring down at your shoes, hiding inside whenever him and his new, cool friends came driving past your house. It all still hurt, the way it was as if you were erased from his memory, like he never knew you at all. 

Your phone rang, interrupting your otherwise quiet night. You set down your book, “Pride and Prejudice” and picked up the phone.

“Hey, Y/N, you think you could come help me out?” It was Robin’s voice, and you could hear drunken chatter and the other sounds of a party in the background.

“Depends on what it is.” You reply with an exasperated sigh, you were trying to have a relaxing night in, and having to save someone at a party didn’t sound like something you wanted to do right now.

“Listen, I need help getting Steve home, and before you complain, I’m not gonna be able to drive him home and you’re the only one I know that could help.” She explains before you can interject. She knew how he hurt you, and how you still disliked him to this day.

“God, fine, only because I want you to be happy.” You groan as Robin thanks you before hanging up. You put the phone back on the receiver and make your way to the party. 

Once you arrive at the house, you’re immediately hit with the overwhelming scent of alcohol and vomit, making you gag. You quickly find Robin, a drunken Steve at her side.

“Did you get him water?” You ask with a sigh, already over having to deal with him.

“Mhm, now get him home please, I’ve got things to do.” Robin reply’s, helping shift him toward you. You wrap an arm around the drunken boy, his hazy eyes meeting yours.

“I know I’m the last person you want to spend the night with, but let’s go.” You murmur, and he luckily complies as you get him into your car.

The drive home is fairly silent, until you turn onto your street.

“I don’t know why I ditched you.” He slurs drunkenly, and your heart seizes. You knew he wasn’t in his right mind, but hearing him say those words still meant something. “I thought they were cool or whatever, but now everyone’s off to college and I’m stuck working a stupid, dead-end job.” His words were sincere, no matter how drunk he was, it was all the truth. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him, it seemed like he’d changed, not completely, but enough to give him another chance.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside.” You murmur, helping him out of the car and into your house, where you then got him settled on the couch.

You could hear him mumbling to himself as you got him water, and when you set it on the coffee table in front of him, his eyes landed on your face.

“You’re pretty, you’ve always been pretty.” He slurs, and you give a brief smile, acknowledging the comment without giving it any time to blossom into anything more.

You brought him a blanket, telling him to rest before retreating to your bedroom. 

As you laid in bed that night, his words kept replaying in your head, and you couldn’t help the little swell of excitement you got in your chest when you thought of him. He was still as handsome as always, with his gorgeous carmel locks and big brown eyes. You dreamed of him, of what it would’ve been like if he hadn’t ditched you, if your life hadn’t taken that turn.

In your dreams, you lay in his arms, his face tucked into your neck. You were utterly in love, attending college together, planning out the rest of your lives. Unfortunately, when you woke up, you were forced to face the harsh reality.

You walked downstairs, expecting to see Steve on the couch, but he was nowhere to be found, until you spotted him out on the porch.

“What are you doing out here?” You ask quietly, confused as to his sudden change in location.

“You deserve an apology, and I figured there was no better place to do it.” He says quietly, his voice low as you sit down beside him. “I really shouldn’t have done that, I was an asshole to you, and look where that got me. I know this isn’t nearly what you deserve in the forms of an apology, and I understand if you never want to see me ever again.” He explains, looking down at his shoes.

“Thank you, I mean, I can kinda understand why you did it, being popular feels good, especially when there’s no one at home to make you feel like you matter.” You knew all too well about the situation at home, all the times he stayed over at your house as kids, all thanks to his neglectful parents. “For the record, I really don’t want to lose you, not after getting you back.” You add, and you find your hand in his, fingers laced together.

“You know, I had a crush on you all through elementary and middle school, always thought you were pretty, even after I left.” He says, squeezing your hand a little.

“I know, last night, you said some things. I’ve always liked you too, I mean, I don’t think that’s a huge surprise, everyone likes you.” You smile sadly, which makes his heart ache. He’d hurt you enough, and didn’t want to do any more damage.

“I’d be willing to give us another chance, but maybe as more than friends.” He offers, his tone soft, fearing rejection. Your silence scared him, but before he could react, you were pressing your lips to his, and his hands flew to your lower back, holding you close.

You spent most of the day like that, sitting on the porch and chatting, catching up on the last 4 years.

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.2

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Summary: Reader gives friendships a try, and the first signs of Daryl changing start showing after unexpected tragedy.

Notes: I love writing Merle and early season Daryl, I hope they're in character!

"I'm ten seconds away from blowing his goddamn brains out."

"Not worth the wasted bullets." Daryl watched as Shane stalked back up towards the Greene house. You scoffed and rolled your eyes when you saw him stopping himself from slamming the door, at least needing to respect Hershel gave him some restraint from being a complete piece of shit. You weren't sure how long that would last though.

"Can't fucking stand these people Daryl. He looked like he wanted to kill me."

"Ya called 'em a homewrecker. The hell'd you expect?"

The days would go by without pause, no matter how you all screamed and cried for just one minute, one minute to get it together and breathe. Everything was constantly changing, and it ended up making you colder. 

The Greene farm was a nice place. You enjoyed the chores you took on there, you got to work with the horses, the cows, and the old barn cat. He'd end up passing away after a while, which would have really upset you if it hadn't been such a peaceful death, he just fell asleep with a stomach full of deer stew and never woke up. 

Andrea's strange half admiration and half disturbed likeness to you strengthened at the time on the farm, which you didn't know how to handle. You'd always wanted a girlfriend, ever since your first one in 6th grade ended your friendship. Your mother had shown up to pick you up from school, so high on Percocet she could barely keep her eyes open. She rear-ended the father of your friend, he got pissed, she spit in his face, and he called the police. ‘My daddy says I can't hang out with trailer trash like you anymore.’ She'd told you the next day. 

You secretly liked the way Andrea looked up to you. It was nice having a woman think highly of you, or any adult for that matter. She would often ask for shooting practice, and you even let her try out your bow a few times. 

She kind of fucked up your budding friendship when she shot Daryl. If you hadn't been so busy helping him get up into the house you would have shot her in her foot, and that's not an exaggeration. You wanted to stay up in that room with him until he fully healed, willing to sleep on the floor just so you'd be with him at all times, but the insecure fear of being seen as weak and clingy prevented you from doing so. You were out in the woods most of those days, hunting or killing any dead you ran across.

It was almost humiliating the way people would update you on Daryl’s condition. At first it was just Rick letting you know he’d be okay, but then it was Maggie and Hershel updating you on his eating habits, how much he ate, when he ate, he was only in bed for a couple of days, but it felt like weeks. Each time someone would tell you the miniscule details of his day you’d respond the same way, ‘Why’re you telling me? I’m not his mamma’. If you could look past the embarrassment of feeling like a worried child, you would be grateful. 

Andrea unknowingly made it up to you when you heard her bitching at Lori in the kitchen once, apparently having enough of her ‘a woman's place is in the kitchen making life worth living, leave the guns to the men' spiel. You complimented her afterwards. 

“Been real sick of that shit.” You had said as you loaded your Ruger pistol. “She's lucky it was you who said it, I think I would've punched that bitch in the face if she said that bullshit to me.”

Andrea was almost too stressed over the Beth situation to fully appreciate the gravity of your praise. She nodded as she looked over the field, eyes squinting against the bright afternoon sun, her arms crossed over her chest. “All my life I've heard that kind of thinking from men. It's different when it's a woman telling you that you're not worth the same as a man. Especially when said man lied about her husband being dead and got in her pants right after.” 

You smirked, stuffing your gun into the back of your jeans as you looked her over. “Wanna go kill some dead people?” 

“Oh, god.” She groaned dramatically. “That's the best idea I've heard all week.”

After you lost the farm, you wound up at an old prison. That was one of the rare times you had allowed yourself to try and be positive, and forced yourself to make friends, although it was obvious all your relationships were strained. Andrea was the only person who had ever made an effort to get to know you, and she was gone. 

Shane’s death didn’t affect you much, truthfully you were glad Rick killed him. The constant tension and heated arguments drained you just as much as Dale’s annoying humanitarianism. You attempted being friends with Lori, Hershel, Carol and Beth, despite the young girl being your polar opposite. She was soft, pretty, sweet and bubbly, you were hard, mean, vulgar and distant. 

Which might be one of the reasons your relationship with her had started to work. Beth saw you as a challenge, like a mean feral cat, and deep down you saw her as a possible redemption. If you could become friends with Beth, the sweetest girl with the kindest heart, you could do it with anyone. 

Lori never trusted you, so you never got far with her. She would look at you with this look on her face, like you were always seconds away from cutting her baby out of her stomach or some twisted shit. You had cursed her out once for said expressions, calling her a stuck-up bitch who thinks every woman that isn't her is beneath her. She died a couple days later, and a part of you that you couldn't push away felt like shit about it, for a very long time.

The whole Governor shit was a pain in your ass. But it was a blessing in disguise, because he was the reason you were reunited with Merle. 

“I want to come.” You stood your ground, grabbing your Ruger AR-15 from its spot on your cell wall. 

“I said no, we’ve got enough concerns, we don't need to be worrying about you.” Rick tried to speak in a hushed tone, his intentions good, not wanting you to feel embarrassed if the others heard you being denied. They knew you seethed at the prospect of being told what to do. You didn't work well with others, that was glaringly obvious.

“I don’t need you to worry about me.” You hissed, tugging the heavy gun over your back so the strap dug into your shoulder. 

Rick repeated your name, using his angry father tone, and that seemed to work. Your shoulders drooped and you growled out a few insults under your breath. You missed when the group members had more say in the way things were. Rick had become more authoritarian after Lori died, and it never affected you until that day. 

When they got back you were waiting at the door, pacing like a mother in those movies whose children had stayed out too late. Your eyes brightened as they filed into the prison, you saw Maggie and Glenn were back, and Michonne had returned as well. 

Your anxious smile slowly faded as the door closed behind them, counting two missing bodies. 

“Where…?” You breathed, looking between Rick and Maggie, your heart racing. 

Rick started having a goddamn mental breakdown after that, screaming at the walls and pointing his gun at things only visible to him. Tyrese, the newcomer, and his group fled, and a part of you considered it as well. If Daryl and Merle were dead, you had no reason to stay. Especially not with Rick behaving like a fucking maniac and no one speaking to you. 

True to your nature, you abandoned the prison in search of the Dixons. You knew they couldn’t have truly left, they would never do that, they'd never leave and forget you. Especially Daryl. He had promised to you one night after you fully secured the prison, that he was the one thing in your life that would never change. He’d never die, he’d never leave, he would always be there. Not in those exact words, of course, but in his own way.

He had stayed true to his promise. You found the two of them on their way to the prison, traveling through the same trails you’d originally used to find the place. 

“Thought I’d never see you two assholes again.” The apocalypse had made you more skilled at hiding your true emotions. You came off as playfully irritated, a contrast to the way you were barely keeping tears at bay. 

“Awww,” Merle teased in a condescending tone, faking a pout, “You miss us?”

“No. Rick’s group makes you seem like a peach though.” 

“Our group.” Daryl’s voice had taken on a strange edge as he walked ahead of you down the trail. “Those are our people now.”

You glanced at Merle to see he was outwardly displaying your same reaction, rolling his eyes and silently mimicking his brother's words. 

No matter how happy you were to see the two of them, Daryl’s reply echoed in your head for a long time. He meant what he said, you could tell by the way he spoke. He was changing, you hadn’t noticed it until that day, he wasn’t the same Daryl from Atlanta, the Daryl you knew. You swallowed your retort and followed him back to the prison. 

The Governor shit was really a pain in your ass after that day, making your earlier experiences a walk in the park. Through the tense days you found yourself around Merle more, the two of you discussing the prospect of just getting the fuck out of there in hushed voices, despite you both knowing Daryl would never abandon Ricks group. It was like he had some sort of unknown obligation to them, something you couldn't decode for the life of you, no matter how hard you tried.

“You're gettin’ real close to bein’ a bonafide pussy, boy.” Merle had said one day, shoving his finger in Daryl’s face. You stayed silent as they argued, biting at the soft skin inside your cheek. 

“Why? Cause I ain't jus’ lookin’ out for myself no more? Cause I actually give a shit about these people?” Daryl standing up to Merle wasn’t a familiar sight, and it made you feel emotions you really weren’t comfortable with. 

“It’s making you weak, brother.” Merle urged, nearly slicing his own scalp when he went to put his hands on his head, the heat of the moment causing him to forget his right hand was now a weapon. “Can't you see it? I ain’t gonna let you die for these sheep.”

Daryl would soon come to regret his last interaction with his brother. You, on the other hand, were lucky enough to have had some peaceful final moments with him before he vanished. 

“Dude, that's my fucking bed!” You shoved Merle away from your mattress, groaning when you saw it shredded and ruined. You’d have to go to the other cellblock and get another, if he hadn’t already paid those cells a visit. 

Merle sat on the floor breathing heavily through his mouth, resting an arm over his propped up knee.

“The hell you do that for?” You grumbled, kicking a chunk of bedding out of your cell and into the hallway. 

“Hopin’ to find some contraband.” 

“Dude, you could’ve just asked me. Holy shit.” You grabbed one of your bags from the corner of your room and began to dig through it, finally pulling out Merle’s old stash bag. HIs eyes lit up and he practically jumped for joy, snatching it out of your hands.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” He grabbed your face with his hand and noisily kissed your cheek, making you groan and shove him off. “Oh sweetheart. Whooo! Daryl know about this?”

“No, didn’t want him to know. I’m better at making shit last than him.” You replied. Daryl didn't like drugs the way Merle did, he had his run in with meth and its consequences and he was strong enough to quit and not touch it again. Other drugs were a different story though, you suspected the speed and painkillers would be gone by now if he had known you were the one who stole it.

He fished out the group of smaller baggies he was looking for, full of various shades of white in different textures. He groaned like he just creamed his pants and leaned over, planting another dramatic smooch to your forehead.

You stayed with him on the floor of your cell as he got high, and eventually he left to go ‘clear out the walkers in the tombs’, something you were happy to sit out on. He told you to stay back and you laughed, teasing with a ‘it's all yours, tweaker’. 

Even though your last moments with him were pleasant, you never forgave yourself for not accompanying him. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx

[justasecretflower]

Okay like imagine you teaching Satoru Gojo! Learning how to swear in English and him just going crazy with it.

Thanks for the idea chiefclown🤍

____________________________________________

Tapping my pen on the desk I look down at my paper. We were tasked to write everything we knew about domain expansion in 3 minutes on our paper. In reality, I transferred here because there were no schools in America for jujutsu sorcerers. So when I had realized I kind of needed to learn Japanese quick I choppily got down writing, reading, and being able to translate when I hear Japanese, but I still can’t get the pronunciation.

I could still communicate with my peers, though. Satoru Gojo came up with the bright idea of writing down on a piece of paper. In fact, he sat right next to me. He was a solid 2 feet away but I could still smell his mint and laundry detergent, which wasn’t the worst smell admittedly. While Sensei Yaga stepped out for a moment, Gojo immediately slid his notebook on my desk. I mentally sigh and look at the note book, translating what he said in my head.

:)! Heyy..you should teach me swear words so I can curse out Sensei Yaga -Your best friend Satoru

I give Satoru a quick glance and see him absolutely giddy, squirming in his seat and a huge cheesy smile that had just a hint of mischief. Clicking my pen I look down for a second, remembering what to say in Japanese, no, I wasn’t perfect at writing but to my defense I didn’t have a lot of time to practice it.

Satoru, If you take me on a shopping spree with all of your “strongest sorcerer ever” money I’ll agree.

I slid the notebook back to him, watching his sunglasses slightly fall to the bridge of his nose. Instead of rolling his eyes dramatically and giving up his lips curl upwards. He writes back, this time not taking him as long.

Deal! The sky’s the limit. >:)

Okay well, not only did I make a deal to hangout with Satoru Gojo, I have to make him more of a menace than he already was.

___________________________________________

I had two bags on my arm and Satoru talking my ear off. He suddenly grabs my hand, dragging me over to the cold booth in the middle of the mall. “Okay now..first one, how do you say fuck?” I blink.

“For the F sound your teeth go over your bottom lip, then uh, then a hard Kay sound.” I speak in broken up Japanese but Gojo clearly got it, mimicking the sounds slowly, each time sounding more and more clear.

“Fuck!” He yells proudly, his arms flying above his head as he lets out a huge laugh. Some passerby’s turn their heads, one lady gently guiding her young son away with her hand on his lower back. “Satoru! Stop yelling!” I whisper yell.

He lets out a small akward laugh, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and leaning in more towards my face to whisper. Getting a whiff of his minty breath and soft smell of cleanliness “okay, now bitch.” Satoru demands in a slightly lower tone. I think for a second now I’ll break the word up in English then I start.

“Buh…the “I” is coming from the back of your throat like “eh” then the ch is when you put your teeth together and go like…ch ch” he nods intently, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so focused, or even this serious, like, ever.

“Buh-itch.” “Bitch!” He almost yelled again, slapping a hand over his mouth and giggling like a little kid.

This was gonna be a long “lesson”

____________________________________________

I’ve created an absolute monster. Not that Satoru wasn’t one before but now he’s saying English swear words left and right. Speaking of him, Yaga is lecturing his ear off and I have an inkling he’s gonna swear again.

“Satoru you never take anything seriously! You should’ve taken care of the curse first not change your background and swoon over mei mei like an idiotic-“

“Fucker!” Satoru yelled, smiling like he was thanking Yaga and nodding. He was acting like he got the message and was oh so thankful for the input. Nobody but him and I know what he’s actually saying, and Yaga nods like he did something, walking away leaving Satoru giggling behind his hand.

Yeah, Never teach Satoru Gojo how to swear in another language.

Tags

[wickedscribbles]

whoever makes my baby cry (is gonna lose some teeth tonight) ch. 2

Masterlist

Ch. 1

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: flashbacks, alcoholism mention, domestic fluff, flirting, sexual tension, anxiety, insecurity

Word Count: 3K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

Logan watches as his pulse beats through the thin skin under his jaw, shaving cream standing out against the line he’s passed through with the razor.

A real date. Yeah, okay. I’d rather get stabbed.

Like he hadn’t moved in a handful of weeks after they started fucking – Logan’s landlord be damned. (Wade was downright gleeful when Logan recounted that all it took to convince the greasy little bastard to let him out of his lease was threatening to bend him in half like a twig.) It’d taken him, no joke, one trip. Just him and his duffel bag of clothes against the world, a few toiletries.

Wade, on the other hand, has stuff. One might even say an abundance of it. His personality is reflected everywhere in the apartment. It doesn’t all exactly match, but Logan gets the feeling that that’s not the aesthetic that Wade wanted in the first place. No doubt he’d say that matching is boring. And it all suits him, suits the space – bold, bright colors and patterns here, softer ones there. Framed prints and soft blankets. Stuff he’s actually taken the time to collect, things he actually likes.

Well, he’s not going to say that he isn’t jealous, settling into a space like that. Outside of his time at the X-Mansion, he hadn’t taken much time to pause and let himself have something that felt comfortable to live in. There, he’d had a nice bed to curl up in and books and pictures on the walls – taped there instead of framed, but still, it was something. Mostly ones the kids had taken with him, brandishing their chunky Polaroids, darting after him in the hall.

“Mr. Wolverine! You wanna get in our photo?”

How was he gonna say no?

They’d come out all blurry, the kid’s thumb half over the actual picture, but what you could see of them showed the kids all smiling like it was the happiest day of their lives. Then they wanted him to stick around so they could take another one, so he could have a copy, too. Logan couldn’t bring himself to tell them that his head was screaming from the latest withdrawal and he was trying to get the hell out so he could suck down the nearest booze resource.

Cheesy ones with Rogue, their faces squished close to the camera. His face tilted in, one eyebrow arched, while she puffed out her cheeks. She’d laughed until she cried when they saw how it turned out, then got the hiccups so bad he had to teach her the peanut butter trick.

“You keep it,” she’d said once she could breathe. “I can’t look at that anymore or I’ll just die all over again.”

So he did.

She was a good kid. They understood one another, in a lot of ways.

He had a few pictures with the crew, too. One where he’s standing next to the man himself, a hand hovering just over the back of Charles’ chair like he’s not sure what to do with it. Jean took that one, and Logan’s not quite smiling, his mouth tight. In contrast, Charles’ face is the picture of open kindness, like he’s delighted to be there. Logan’s looking right at Jean. Even thinking about that picture, he knows Scott was right beside her. Watching him, watching her.

What a fucking mess. He’s not about to touch the knot of guilt that thinking about Jean brings up with a ten foot fucking pole.

After…after everything, Logan never let himself get comfortable anywhere. He knew he didn’t deserve it.

Wade seems to have different ideas, hounding him to mix up the vibe in here with whatever he wants to add to Wade’s already very decorated apartment. Logan had dodged that offer and deferred it, time and time again, until walking home one night in the dead of winter.

He and Wade were trudging along, freezing their asses off, clutching takeout. Logan was somewhere in between listening to Wade tell him some story about his latest job and concentrating on not falling on all the ice that had built up on the city sidewalks.

Logan isn’t a fan of being cold, but he’s even more annoyed by the city itself. Dirty, loud, crowded – impossible to escape the suffocating press of the population at any given point in time. As if his own racing thoughts weren’t bad enough, now he has to deal with being overstimulated all. The. Time. There are ways to make it easier, and Wade has done a lot to help him figure it out. Still, he misses the quiet of a more rural living space.

They’re almost home when something catches Logan’s eye, jutting out from the curb. It’s an end table, fucking fancy and hand crafted, if he’s right. Sunken against a load of wet cardboard, half covered in snow and frozen city sludge. He pauses mid-stride once they pass it, hesitates, then circles back.

“And just for fun I told him I was going to feed him his eyes like grapes, and of course I didn’t, but you know he started crying and – where’d ya go?”

“Hmm.”

Logan raps his knuckles against the varnished wooden top of the thing. Real wood. It’s nice. He knows people throw shit out to the curb all the time, and it’s a hit or a miss on whether or not it’ll be worth anything. Wade’s picky on what he’ll bring back, and there’s a whole process on cleaning it.

“Oh,” says Wade, reorienting himself in the dark and finding Logan again after a few seconds. “Okay, okay, I see what we’re doing. You like that, boy? You wanna take that stick home?”

“Shut it.” Logan answers, but there’s no bite to it. “Alright, I’m set.”

He hefts the table under his forearm and settles back in stride beside Wade, who’s looking at him with delight, all big brown eyes and toothy grin. The expression feels overwhelming sometimes. What the hell has he done to earn it? Logan doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s found something that he likes, and Wade’s happy, and that they take it home (home) to clean up and put on Logan’s side of the couch.

God, they’re getting so fucking domestic.

Logan taps the razor to the edge of the sink, rinses off. He still looks like the same man he was before he started shaving, just a little more nervous and a little less scruffy. He isn’t sure what else he expected. All that’s left to do is get dressed, slap on some deodorant and cologne. That all takes about two minutes flat, and by the time he pushes the shirtsleeves of the dark green dress shirt up to his elbows like he knows Wade likes, he’s beaten his own time by about seven minutes.

After a final – futile – attempt to get his cowlicks to lie flat, Logan steps back out of the bathroom.

Wade is draped over the kitchen counter, teasing Bonnet with the laser pointer, but perks up instantly when he hears Logan come out.

“Oh my gosh,” he gushes, kicking his feet at the bar. He hops down to close the short distance between them, wrapping his arms comfortably around Logan’s waist. Logan lets him, suddenly feeling shy. “Peanut, fucking look at you. You could have warned a guy you could clean up like this. And you smell amazing.”

“It’s nothin’,” Logan mutters. His face feels way too hot for him not to be blushing at all the unnecessary attention. “I just – shaved and put a shirt on.”

“Which is a testament to how hot you are all the time,” Wade sighs, world weary. “God, no one suffers like I do.”

Logan rolls his eyes to the ceiling. Saying thanks to this sort of easy praise isn’t something he can tackle – he’d rather punch a grizzly than look Wade in the eye and say that right now – so he shoots for matching sarcasm.

“Oh, you’ve got it real bad. I feel sorry for ya.”

Even though Wade’s dressed again, in sweatpants and a tee this time, Logan can clearly see the outline of his hard cock through the thin material. Wade notices him noticing and takes the opportunity to run his broad hands up and down Logan’s exposed forearms with another sigh, raising goosebumps to his skin.

“Yeah, it’s hard out here,” he purrs. “Or, well. Here.”

He places Logan’s hand over his dick, and it’s one of those frequent occasions where Logan isn’t sure whether to start fucking him, tell him to knock it off, or just laugh. Wade’s brain operates on a system that Logan prefers to call “ludicrous to the point of zero survival instinct”, and to be honest, why should he have any? He doesn’t need it anymore.

But it sure keeps Logan on his toes.

“Hmm…”

Logan brings his hand to Wade’s jaw and tilts his face, watching with low delight curling in his stomach as the other man’s eyes flutter shut. Fuck, but he’s pretty.

“If you take as long to get ready as you say you will, we’re never gonna leave this apartment if we fuck on top of all that.”

He wants Wade right back. If there's one thing the man knows how to do, it's tempt him. The look on his face says c’mon, Logan, we can make it quick. Please? They both know that quick isn’t possible for them once they get started.

“Will we?” Logan prompts. He kisses him once, twice, trying hard not to get lost in the affection and how Wade reacts to it. Wade scowls, pouts like a little kid.

“Damn it, no.”

It's hard not to grin. “Well, pick which one you want more, then.”

Groaning like he’s being stabbed through the lung, he trudges to the bathroom, oozing drama from every pore. He lingers at the door for a moment, crossing his arms with his date clothes in hand.

“I hate it when you’re rational.”

Chuckling from where he’s bent down to pet the cat, Logan only shrugs.

“One of us has to be.”

Only pausing to give him a whimsical middle finger followed swiftly by heart-hands, Wade disappears into the bathroom to start his own routine.

Guess he's really set on this.

He'd started asking to go out weeks ago, so Logan isn't too surprised. But it's not like they don't already go out. Hell, they're out together all the time – running errands, walking the dog, doing jobs, walking around the city. Personally, he isn't sure why this has to be any different.

“Why though?” Logan had grumbled, sleepy, at the time the idea of a real date was proposed. On their sectional, he was curled up under Wade's arm, head buried in his chest. Dozing off to some three hour long YouTube documentary Wade loved to dissociate to while he scrolled on his phone.

“Because it's nice,” Wade had said back, after a pause. “I dunno, maybe it'd just be nice to go out as a couple and not because we literally have to leave the apartment.”

Well, he's fucked.

Wade's voice had gone all uncharacteristically defensive, and Logan knew that was his sign to just be a good partner and let him have this.

He'd said something like okay, sure, baby, ‘course, shoving his face into the couch so he didn't have to think anymore, and now here they are. Logan still isn't quite sure why Wade wants this, but if it gets him this excited, then he'll go along too.

It's good to see him happy.

But Wade wasn't fucking around. He is taking forever in there. He should've known he'd take ages when Shania Twain started blasting, but this goes far beyond Logan's twenty minutes.

Is this normal?

A part of him starts to wonder if he's been doing it wrong, all this time – if getting ready for a date is really supposed to take as long as Wade's taking. He's never really been on consecutive dates, but given that he and Wade are definitely a package deal from here on out, maybe he was supposed to take longer.

Pacing a little, he consults his reflection in a kitchen cabinet. Checks his teeth. All good. He still just looks like himself, for better or for worse.

Getting anxious once Wade's Spotify playlist slips out of Shania’s greatest hits and into lesser known territory, he decides to head out for a quick walk to give himself something to do.

Be right back, taking Lil Bit around the block, he texts.

“OKAY HAVE FUN!” Wade yells over the opening of Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under. Of course, Puppins is out-of-her-mind delighted at the prospect of a spontaneous walk. It never fails to amaze Logan to see how the dog can go from a dead sleep to completely alert once the word walk is whispered anywhere near her – or if a treat bag is rustled. She jumps around his legs for a second while Logan rustles her mangy-looking little head, waiting for her to get the energy out so he can attach the leash. Then they’re back out the door, her little nails clicking on the sidewalk.

It’s a nice day, as far as the city goes. Spring is unfurling itself again, bringing back more pleasant air, something more tolerable than car fumes and the smell of garbage. Just cool enough to bite, but not cold enough for a coat. Puppins is going wild in it, her pig’s tail curled up at attention and her head raised as if she’s trying to see everything all at once.

Logan half hopes that whatever Wade has planned for the day, they’ll get to be out in it, if only for a while.

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

Ready! ❤️👀😉

“Alright, pack it up, heartbreaker,” he sighs at the dog, who is inevitably trying to fuck the German Shepherd who lives two doors down. Again. Logan makes awkward eye contact with the man the German Shepherd is attached to, does a little wave as he’s tugging her away.

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

Puppins just snorts at him, just as excited to be going in as she was to be going out.

When they make their way back in, Logan turns to hang her leash at the door, part of the usual routine. He can hear Wade somewhere behind him, crouching to greet Puppins in a flurry of saccharine words and tummy rubs that may or may not make her piss herself a little in excitement. (Whenever Logan expresses annoyance at how he gets the dog riled up, Wade just quips that he’s jealous, and that if Logan wants Wade to start greeting him like that, all he has to do is ask.)

“Alright, is this a piss or a no piss situa–”

Logan stops in the middle of his sentence, because he’s just turned and seen Wade.

Wade’s standing there in one of those patterned button-downs he likes – very nice, one he’s never seen before – and expensive-looking, dark slacks. That’s not what’s throwing him off. What makes Logan pause, for far too long (because he has no clue what the fuck to say) is the fact that Wade has taken the time and effort to cover up every inch of scarring on his face. It’s not perfect, but it’s pretty damn close.

It has to be some sort of high level makeup magic. Logan can smell the faint hint of it, but god did he make it look realistic. And of course, again with the fucking hair.

He’s reminded of the photograph he’d once found of Wade, stuffed in the back of a drawer. His arm slung around Vanessa’s shoulders, both of them beaming at the camera. Before he looks like he does now. Still so very clearly him, sweet brown eyes and a boyish face. He’d never brought it up to Wade – it seemed clear that the picture wasn’t something he was supposed to be looking at. Every other photo he’d ever seen with Wade in it had him looking the way he does now.

Logan’s chest fills with dread.

Wade does not look like Wade anymore. He doesn’t like it. He’s offended that Wade thought he had to try and look different to go out on some “real” date. But those thoughts and feelings are massive, overwhelming in a way that makes it hard to even articulate. Logan can only look at him, disbelieving, upset.

Wade beams at him like nothing’s happening.

“No piss!” he says triumphantly. “See, I told you she’s calming down. Just take ‘er over to Al’s place and hotbox her once a week.” Wade pats the little dog on her almost-naked side. “Good for the mind and the soul.”

What the fuck is he supposed to do? What is he supposed to say? A vague sense of panic floods the back of his throat like bile.

“Right,” Logan manages to croak.

A beat of some of the most awkward silence he thinks he’s ever lived through.

Fuck, say something, say fucking anything!

Logan takes a deep breath in. Out. In again. Finally finds it in him to crouch down to where Wade is on the kitchen floor. He puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Darlin’,” he starts, and still gets a tiny kick out of how bashful the term gets Wade. The other man’s eyes skitter away from his, like he’s a blushing schoolgirl. “You look – you look nice. I like your shirt. It’s new, right?”

Wade nods excitedly. “Mmhm, new and a steal! I mean, I didn’t steal it. But goddamn, was it reasonably priced. I mean, I like to look nice as much as the next merc, but we’re not exactly working with an Avengers budget, are we?” He looks panicked for a moment. “I mean, how long before this whole Poolverine craze blows over and we’re old news, anyway?”

“Wade –”

“What I’m trying to say is,” Wade continues, getting to his feet with athletic grace, “we should live it up while we can. And I think the author’s about ready for the chapter to end so we can move on to the good stuff. Yeah?”

He really wishes he knew what Wade was going on about half the time.

Sighing, Logan clambers to his feet as well, taking the hand that Wade offers him. “Okay, okay, yeah. But can we just sit down and – and talk when we get home?”

Their fingers interlock as Wade reaches for his keys. “Sure, honey badger. Whatever you want.”

[madridfangirl]

Star Crossed Lovers - Blurb from Ch 9

(Full Ch coming soon - pls bear with me)

Series Link

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The first time Jude discussed his relationship at home, it didn’t go down too well.

He told Jobe in a long call one night.

‘I knew it.’

‘No, you guessed it.’

‘Well, I guessed right. You are too easy to read.’

‘Shut up. M not.’

‘Whatever. Does Mum know?’

‘No. Unless she’s guessed it too. She said something to you?’

‘No. How come I knew sitting here & she doesn’t have any wind of it?’

‘Coz you’re nosy.’

‘You mean smart. M smart.’

‘No, I mean nosy.’

‘Bro, you sure you’re ready for this?’

His voice suddenly turned serious. Big brotherly. He was doing that more & more lately. Those who called Jude mature for his age didn’t know what Jobe could be like at times.

‘I want this.’

‘Those are two different things.’

‘I’ll make it happen if I want it. You know that.’

‘If you say so.’

Jude didn’t like the skepticism in his brother’s voice. There was nothing he couldn’t achieve once he set his mind to it. No one thought he’ll have the record setting season with Birmingham at 16. Or the record breaking move to Dortmund at 17. Or the galactico signing to Madrid at 20. Or being a starter in the national team as quickly as he did. Proving people wrong was not new for him, he liked the challenge. Even if the person knew him as well as Jobe did. 

Sure he’ll have to give up aspects of his lifestyle. The thrill of being with new women, the rush of making them fall for him, the adrenaline of being their first choice, the excitement of first times, the satisfaction of the impact he had on them, leaving them coming back for more, never having enough of him, the ease of no ties / commitments. It all worked for him at this stage of his life. 

But something had consistently drawn him towards this girl from the moment they first met. She was a lot more than someone he just wanted in his bed (he wanted that too, desperately). She was a friend, a confidante, an advisor. Someone he sought after anything good or anything bad. She was comfort. She was warmth. She was peace. She was fun. She was his girlfriend.

His girlfriend.

Why hadn’t they said that to each other yet? It had to be rectified immediately.

Jude called her right away. She woke up with a jump.

‘What happened? All ok?’

‘Just wanted to hear my girlfriend’s voice.’

She missed the context in her grogginess.

‘It’s 2 am. I have to get up at 7 am. Are you fucking nuts?’

‘Is my girlfriend mad at me?’

‘YES. Your girlfriend is LIVID….’

She paused. He waited for it to dawn on her, what was just said.

‘Don’t leave your boyfriend hanging, dove.’

He heard the little gasp she let out at the other end.

‘M coming over. Wanna hear these noises in person.’

‘Ok.’

Next morning, as she got ready for work, she had to apply a ton of makeup to cover the marks on her neck and shoulders. While he remained sprawled on the bed, enjoying the scene, commenting when she missed a spot, ignoring the daggers she was throwing at him as she was getting late.

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(Series Link)

Hope you like where this is going, this chapter will be a roller coaster!

Thank you for all the DMs guys. I am back to writing these two and the next few chapters should come soon :)

[nathanbatemanfucker]

In Plain Sight, Ch 1: Docile Pyre

summary: nathan tries his best to wade through the sea of feelings you’ve brought up in him. he’s kinda shitty to you while doing it.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: this entire series is 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, nathan is a pining asshole, reader is so competent and cool

wc: 2,200

AN: BE NICE TO ME PLEASE GOD. i don’t know where this came from. on christmas eve morning, nathan bateman himself walked into my apartment and made me write this. who am i to argue with a man who looks like oscar issac?

in plain sight masterlist | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Nathan learned quickly that his usual backhanded compliments and intelligent snarkiness don’t work for you. You don’t care enough to let him get under your skin, don’t care enough to be baited into an argument. It gets under his skin.

You make him sick. Sick in a way he’d never felt before. He thought he was the epitome of unbothered and unchanged until he met you. He feels like a fucking teenage boy, wiping his sweaty palms and reminding himself that he’s in control. He’s the boss. So why does his heart flutter when you look him in the eyes so intently as he gives you task after task to do?

You never complain. You never say much at all. He wishes that you would say something. That you would lash out or fight back— give him something. He wants to see you.

But you’re prim and perfect. All “yes sir” and “no sir”. Mr. Bateman this and Mr. Bateman that. No one calls him Mr. Bateman. It’s fucking silly, the way it affects him when you do. You handle each task he gives you with ease— even when he has you calling the most difficult of his colleagues. In meetings, they mention how charming you are, sweet and charismatic. Nathan doesn’t even get that. For someone who’s all about AI, blank stares, and obedient droids, your likeness to them is driving him crazy. He knows that you’re a person with emotions, desires, and opinions. So he picks and picks and picks, hoping that one day you’ll break.

Why won’t you show him? Why does he care so much? Why is he completely enamored with you anyway?

Being around you starts to confuse him. Nathan hates that feeling. He likes to be the smartest in the room— he needs it or he starts to feel small. Like he’s that little boy he was all those years ago, staring up into the angry eyes of his parents as they spew insults at him. But, he can’t seem to find a balance when he’s around you, he hates the feelings you invoke but can’t seem to work himself out of the tangled mess in his heart. Before you, he was sure that he didn’t have one anymore.

“Can you work overtime tonight? I need all of this sorted and filed,” He gestures to stack upon stack of paperwork in the corner of his lab.

“I just need to make a call, sir.”

Nathan knows that you have a life outside of him and this job— any normal person would. But, he’s not normal, is he? It reminds him that despite these harbored feelings, he’s not compatible with you. You deserve someone normal. Maybe that’s who you need to call, maybe you already have someone. Jealousy courses through his veins.

He raises a brow at you, his voice cool, “A call? You have something more important to do than your job?”

You give him no information. Just a polite smile as you head towards the door, “I’ll just be a moment, sir.”

Nathan pretends to tinker around with his synthetic brains and limbs and skin until you’re finished filing. He thought it’d take longer, but you finish in a couple of hours. He’s always impressed with you and your performance but it goes sour the moment you reach for your bag.

“If that’s all Mr. Bateman, I’ll see you at 9 a.m.”

“Wait,” He says, trying to prolong your time together, trying to see if you’ll give him any sort of reaction if he gives you more work. But no. You turn to him with ease, a polite and expectant look on your face. He gives up. “I’ll send you a grocery list. You can be here at 10 a.m.”

“10 a.m.,” You repeat with a soft nod.

Then Nathan’s all alone again. He heads into his bedroom, opening one of the closets. He needs to get lost for a while. He needs you off his mind.

—

Nathan tries. He really tries not to watch you so closely. He tries to distance himself from you. He stops giving you the tasks he used to give you just to hopefully piss you off. His attempts are useless though. The only thing that could keep him from watching you is firing you. He doesn’t have control, he feels powerless in the face of your docile stare.

He starts to notice things. That your hair is a little out of place. That your clothes aren’t as crisp and clean as usual. He sees the bags under your eyes. He sees you sleeping during your lunch break instead of eating. Your work doesn’t suffer and neither does your attitude but the subtle light in your eyes gets dimmer and dimmer as time wanes on.

Nathan had wanted to see you, sure, but he didn’t want to see you like this. Something’s wrong. He’s not sure has the courage to ask you about it. He feels guilty when he has to ask you to work late on a Thursday afternoon. It feels like it’s festering inside him and he almost forgoes asking. It gets what he’s wanted for months and months on end. You finally crack.

“Hey, I need you to work late tonight,” He murmurs, more gently than he’s spoken to anyone…ever. Fuck, you make him soft. It’s disgusting. It’s unfair. It’s blasphemy.

You continue to type when you respond, “I can’t, sir.”

Nathan freezes, unsure if he’s just heard you correctly. “Excuse me?”

You inhale a soft breath, your gaze airing on slightly apologetic, “I said that I can’t. I can’t work late tonight, Mr. Bateman, I’m sorry.”

“And why not?”

“I’m not sure that that’s any of your business. Sir,” You add respectfully.

“Any of my business?” He repeats, incredulous.

“Yes, sir.”

He stares at you for a handful of seconds, weighing his options. The tasks he wants to give you could wait until more— he’s simply impatient. But, he’s got buy-in now with your disagreement and secrecy. He could push…and he does. “I didn’t ask, I ordered. I need you here for a few more hours.”

It works. For the first time since you started working for him a little under a year ago, you finally show him something. You’re angry, he can tell by the way your brows knit together and your mouth twists. It thrills him.

You stew for a few beats, no doubt deciding if you should voice your rebuttal or go on as usual. Nathan watches you eagerly, hoping of course for the latter. It doesn’t come. Instead—

You close your eyes, growing statuesque. Nathan can only tell you’re still breathing because of how close he is, and how intensely he’s watching you. You open your eyes after a moment and say easily, “Then I need to make a call. It’ll just be a moment, sir.

You work diligently that night, finishing up in just half the time he suggested. He’s almost tempted to give you more, but he knows that would just make things worse. Despite your cool collected manner, the air in the room feels heavier, the energy shifted. He knows he’s fucked up. And if he wasn’t sure, he is when you get up to leave without your usual goodbye or so much of a glance at him.

It’s only after you’ve gone that Nathan takes a good look at his calendar. It’s New Year's Eve. He’d made you stay late on New Year's Eve. That guilt from before rears its ugly head, more gut-wrenching than before. He makes his way to the kitchen to drink it away. It’s replaced with alcohol, hot jealousy, and a hint of sadness. You’d had plans for New Year's Eve. You weren’t going to be lonely like him, if you still made it to those.

Fuck and who were they with? Some guy? Some woman? Did it matter? Not really. The only thing that mattered is that you opened up to them. You show them who you are. Nathan sits hunched over on the couch, bottle in hand staring into the fire.

No, I’m not sorry, he thinks drunkenly to himself. If keeping you late kept you with him and away from whoever was in your life then he wasn’t sorry. He was selfish and unkind, but not sorry. Assholes like him don’t get to be sorry. He’d be a monster that would keep you as long as he could in any way that he could.

—

When you come in on the second, you look exhausted despite the day off. It almost sets him off, but he’d spent most of yesterday thinking about you. The drinking had taken away his guilt, his jealousy, or that unworthy feeling he’s been running from all his life. You…well you make him want to face. Dig to the root of it and cast it out of himself, but he knows he’s not strong enough. The most he can do right is an apology.

Nathan comes to sit on the edge of your desk, blocking the screen so you have to look up at him. “Hey.”

You look up at him with those soft, tired eyes. “Yes?”

He shifts, scratching the bare patch atop his head awkwardly, “I uh— the other night, it was shitty of me to make you work late on New Year’s Eve.”

“I made it work, sir.”

Fuck him, you’re making this hard. His silly little anger about your disposition isn’t justified, he realized that when he sobered up yesterday but he feels ready to explode with it. Spending New Year’s Day alone had never bothered him until yesterday. He had never himself alone, given his bots, until you. You’re screwing with his head, making it all fucky.

“Mr. Bateman?”

A small shiver runs down his spine. He nods, clapping his hands together before hopping off your desk. He needs space and air. “It won’t happen again. On any holiday.”

You fix him with a polite smile, nodding, “Sure.”

Nathan avoids you as much as he can for the rest of the day. Maybe that’s his only option now. He knows that there’s no point in fighting this. Once he feels a certain way it might as well be set in stone. It’s hard to accept that. Even if it wasn’t, he doesn’t want to.

He runs into you on his way out, and before he can think better of it, he’s talking, “Hey, wait up one second.”

“I can stay late, it’s not a problem,” You say mechanically.

“No, I’m not— fuck I’m not asking you to stay late again. I’m an asshole but Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Did I make a mistake then, sir?”

He can’t help himself— he laughs. It dissolves into a maniacal giggle, his hands rubbing at his eyes. “Fuck’s sake. No, sweetheart, you didn’t make a mistake. What I meant to say earlier was I shouldn’t have made you work late on New Year’s Eve. I shouldn’t make you work so late any day, I don’t know your life, I don’t know you.”

“Alright.”

“And what I mean by that is— you know that this is me saying sorry? Right?”

“Yes, Mr. Bateman, I understand what you’re saying completely.”

“Great. Well?”

You tilt your head at him— it’s almost unsettling. “Well?”

“Usually someone apologizes, says it won’t happen again, and then the other thanks them. Accepts the apology. All that jazz. That’s how it works in the movies at least if I’m not mistaken,” He grins, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Yes, sir, I know how apologies work.”

He nods his head at you expectantly, “Then it’s your turn.”

You do that thing again from the other night, where you go so still you could be made from stone. He watches you with curious eyes, and when your gaze meets his, he can see it— the fire. He’s cracked you again. This time he hopes for a better result.

Shoulders squared, clutching your bag tightly over your shoulder you say, “With all due respect and complete honesty, Mr. Bateman, I don’t accept. I don’t care to. While I appreciate your attempt, none of what you said was a true apology. That almost means that well, there was nothing for me to accept. I’ll see you at 7 a.m., sir.”

Nathan watches you leave, his mouth slightly agape. You had just, so politely and succinctly told him off. He feels like his world has been turned upside down like he’s been bitten by a snake he was told wasn’t poisonous. And he wants to be bitten again. Again and again, he wants to stoke that fire in you until it’s an uncontrollable rage. A forest fire with no end in sight. He wants to be engulfed in it, willing and ready to suffer the burns of handling you. Where he’d been prepared to give up on you after apologizing— okay with sacrificing you to someone who might actually have a chance at deserving you— he refuses to now.

This feels like a challenge. You want him to be better? He’ll do it. He’d do anything for you. And he will.

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @faretheeoscar, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @kotaropuppy

[otomeowl]

Impressions of all the villains as of writing-

Routes I Completely Read

William - Excellent starter villain who really went “I could make her worse 💅” Has a way deeper voice than you’d expect and it keeps surprising me every time. I really like how proactive Kate becomes, and it’s nice to have a man decently chill and not super clingy. And I’m fine with clingy, but we go a lot of clingy boys in this game already!

Liam - He’s so sweet he makes me blubber and sputter like a seal. Love how his voice purrs, but despite the game always saying he’s like a cat and super curious his route doesn’t really focus on those aspects. It has a lot of The Sad and it makes you want to give him a warm blanket. Kate and I agree sweet boy must be treasured. And Kate and Liam are also really sweet to each other and the fact that Kate was already into theater and Liam’s an actor makes me happy.

Elbert - SAD WET CAT SUMMER!!! The most interesting thing for me is how despite being The Greedy Queen and thus being the most obsessive out of all the boys once he’s into Kate he’s also one of the nicest? Like even before he’s attracted to her he’s so sweet, tender and gentle and he’s always looking out for Kate’s wellbeing? It makes me sob! Sweet Boy 2!!! It also really showcases how the curse itself affects a villain. Like previous routes there’s some bastards (fucking Jeffrey every time I think of this fucker I wanna-) who hurt Elbie, but what made his past so tragic is directly caused by the curse. Very melancholic. Aside from The Sad he’s also dense and slow-spoken when he speaks, cuteness factor is off the charts! Not to mention his friendship with Alfons I could write a six-page essay on that.

More about incomplete and unreleased routes under the cut

Incomplete Routes

Harrison (Read Summaries but Haven’t Started His Route)- I’m sorry I keep setting him aside 😭😭😭. I want to get his 22 bond first before doing the route but I should probably just read it already after finishing up Elbie. I also haven’t read most of his events because they’re all after he and Kate get together. Strangely this makes me more intrigued by Harrison since I’m purposely leaving myself in the dark. From what I gather though he’s even more chill than William and despite his curse he seems like a decent fella.

Alfons (Japanese Only, Read Summary) - Stay away from Kate 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪. I simultaneously love reading about his character but hate hate hate him using his illusion power to make Kate do things. It’s not my thing and every time he has a scene with Kate I’m like don’t fucking dare 🔪. Love his interactions with Elbert and I’m really intrigued by him but every time he uses illusion power I’m skipping 🛑✋🛑✋. Has a nice voice though. Listen to Kate when she says he is a literal nightmare though.

Ellis (Japanese Only, Read Summaries and Translations up to Ch. 10)- SWEET! BOY! THREE!!! He’s the most outwardly kind to Kate, but he’s also super caring to all his fellow villains. He’s even sweet to Jude, and Jude going “ew” every time he does makes me chuckle. But he’s also one of the most dangerous to Kate so far. Out of all the villains (aside from Vogel that’s tbd) he’s somehow the most likely to kill her. So every time he asks if she’s at her happiest I’m like 😳😳😳 and then she says no and I go 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨. Probably has my favorite voice, so gentle yet so creepy. Out of all the villains (again aside from the newbies) he keeps the effects of his curse close to his chest the most.

Roger (Japanese Only, Read Translations up to Ch. 3) - Another man who needs to practice personal space with my Kate! 🔫🔫🔫. And yet another really interesting character in spite of that. Unlike his fellow Crown members he’s the most determined to fight against curses. I’ve only read three chapters of his route so far (translated by dark-frosted-heart) and so far I’m interested to see where it goes. I’m really intrigued to see how Vogel plays a part since Roger’s the first route to feature them, it’s a good way to draw people in! Voice is nice but I’m not hunting down his voice line the way I am with other villains.

Unreleased Routes

Jude - Rude Boy Rude Boy Rude Boy! One of the funnest villains with his attitude and how trouble follows him around. I’m not into how cruel and disrespectful he is to Kate but sometimes Kate is kinda into it? The amount of events where Jude is surprised when Kate’s a little too turned on by him being a meanie makes me laugh. I’m really interested in his route to see how many fights break out and how many kinks Kate discovers 🤣. Also interested in his attitude towards love and making promises.

Victor - Guys I love him so much I wanna sneak into the kitchen at night and eat scones with him too! So gentlemanly! So suave! So villainous! I want his route NOW!!!! His voice is nice but what really sells it is how cheerful he is! You can really hear the ✨ sparkle ✨ in his voice. And how he’s such a dad to his sons fellow villains! I want to hold this man and give him a tight squeeze and maybe commit crimes for him.

Nica - The literal definition of a Bad Boy who plays with girls’ hearts, hmph! 😤 I can’t stop thinking of a certain German prosecutor in ace attorney every time he injects German in his sentences. The Bad Boy girlies are gonna be suuuuper into him but I’ll have to see what else he’s got. I like how he cares for his twin a lot though.

Ring - S-sweet boy four??? Seems like a strong silent type but it looks super easy to break his tough exterior. His unconditional trust in his brother and Darius makes me feel like I need to hold his hand when he crosses the street! He’s a real cutie but given how all our previous sweet boys have a dangerous side I’m keeping my eye on him! I’m worried that his curse is to have his feelings affected by touch, as a foil to how his brother can cause others to feel affected by his touch, which makes me even more worried for him.

Darius - I’m having Gilbert flashbacks and can’t stop mumbling “this motherfucker” under my breadth. Really interested in what he’s hiding and I can’t stop listening to his voice. I don’t appreciate him hating my Victor though! Guards, put him in a jar and shake him violently!!!

Feel free to reply/reblog with your own impressions of the characters!

[soulc-hilde]

Game Shakers / Ch. 2

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

Pairing: Eminem x OFC

Warning(s): Cursing, Drug Abuse, Racial Discrimination, Sexual Assault, more may be on the way as the story progresses

Summary: 2000s is quite the highlight between the fashion and rise of pop culture. Seemingly the new faces of shock value, rapper Marshall Mathers and rockstar King Woods finds a common ground amongst the unnecessary bullshit.

A/N: Sorry for the late update! I'm rediscovering my urge to write as I work back to back and get paperwork ready to prepare for college. It feels like life is slowly coming together, I just need a damn car. Y'all got chapter 1 to 32 likes and 3 reblogs... is my writing that good or are we all in desperate search for Eminem fanfic? Much love, though!

Standing on the carpet of the VMAs, Marshall and an excited Deshaun pose beside of the rookie's mentor, Dr. Dre. Finishing a couple of photo-ops, they were guided down the carpet. As Marshall clenched on his gum, anxiety gnawing at his mind, Deshaun was studied the face of every celebrity he knew.

"Yo, Doody, this is crazy man," he laughs. "I can't believe that we're really here." Marshall hums, "I can't believe how crowded this bitch is." Dre shakes his head, "don't stress, this will all end soon once we get inside the venue."

Deshaun looks down at the now bleach blond rapper, "you think those girls are gonna be here, man?" Marshall kisses his teeth, "they have to be, I read on the call sheet that they were listed to perform or some shit."

Andre raises an eyebrow, "who y'all whispering about, looking like some mean ass gossip girls?" Marshall smirks, "you ever heard of that new band, The Hydez?" The older rapper's face scrunches at the band name, "uh... who?"

"It's a band with these five girls, only one of them is white, and are covered in tattoos--" Andre's face drops in recognition, "oh! Nevermind, I know. I know who're talking about now. What, you got a little crush or somethin', Slim?"

Deshaun laughs, "more like that boy's in love with the lead, King. Once they talked during Warped Tour, he was hooked on her." Rather than snapping back, Marshall side-eyes his friend.

"Fuck both of y'all, man," the blond rolls his eyes, walking down the carpet. The others following, throwing out a joke here and there, when a reporter strikes her mic out desperately.

"Eminem, quick question," she blurts, "are you and The Hydez leader, King Woods, dating? What of your wife?" The three rappers freeze, flabbergasted at the onslaught of questions.

Marshall clears his throat for a second before stepping closer to her, "excuse me?" The woman repeats herself, "are you and King Woods dating?" The blond raises a brow, "no, we ain't. Where'd you get that from?"

"Well, just a few minutes ago, I had simply asked her and the rest of The Hydez about you and they just, like, flipped out on me," she snorts, "I don't know why she became so defensive over me asking about you, but it was a little suspicious, wouldn't you say?"

Marshall hums, "yeah... yeah, um, what was it that you asked them about?" A bit of irritation was rising in the back of his mind, he didn't expect a lot of positives to come from the whole spotlight shit but he at least thought that King and her friends were genuine people.

"I just simply wondered if you were the person others say that you are, you know like violent towards women, vulgar," she lists, "I was just asking the real questions. It was them who kept calling you all types of names like skittles and tiny ass--"

Marshall shakes his head, "le'me stop you right there, sweetheart. You was just sniffing around, asking questions about me to other people and they flipped. How about you do your job and ask about people's career instead of digging for dirt, have a nice night."

The three walk away, leaving the woman in disbelief. Deshaun looks back at the woman with a confused smile, "the fuck was that all about?" Marshall shrugs, "turns out everybody wants to know if I'm as vulgar or violent as my lyrics."

"And what does that have to do with The Hydez?" Andre glances at him in confusion as well. Reaching inside the venue, Marshall smiles, "King chewed that curious bitch the fuck out." Andre and Deshaun share a knowing glance.

Andre rubs at his forehead, "and she does know that you're married, right?" Marshall nods, "sure does. Besides, she told me that she's not interested in anything outside of her music. I can't say I blame her."

"Damn straight, you can't," Deshaun sasses as they find their seats and sit down.

The award show begins, the venue going dark as the stage lights set off. Throughout the show, he watched as stars strutted across the stage presenting awards and performing for the masses. Faces he's seen on the television from the kitchen of his old job and new ones that were scheduled to officially debut, much like him.

Every time his face appeared on the massive screen as a nominee for a selection of categories, his jaw clenches with anticipation. If he thought signing with Dre and putting out the EP was a nerving wreck, it doesn't compare to his first award. If he could win at least one award, he could take it as his moment of truth to flash his winning in the face of those who lacked faith.

So far, he's won Best New Artist which was unreal to him. "Was this supposed to happen?" He questioned in the mic, unsure that his name was chosen and written on the card.

Getting his name etched into the award, he returns to his seat with an exhilarating tremble in his step. Sitting down, he meets eyes with a smirking King who simply sent a nod his way before turning to face the stage once again.

As the show moves on, he solely tunes in whenever his name or the band, The Hydez, were mentioned. So far, the girls won their second award of the night for Best Rock Video and Best Group Video. They also took home the awards for Best Editing and Best Special Effects.

Closer to the last few minutes of Britney and NSYNC's performance, a stagehand signals for The Hydez to follow after her. Perking up in his seat, his eyes were attentive to the stage as the night was reaching its final round. Stone Cold Steve Austin introduces the band and the lights dimmer more than before.

"You excited to see your girlfriend?" Proof teases. Marshall simply side-eyes with a smirk.

The starting piano plays for 'In The End,' a green light takes over the stage as Harley starts to rap her verse in the mic as King sings her adlibs. In contrary to their carpet outfits, the group appeared far more casual while dawning their usual black get up.

The redheaded leader bounces across the stage alongside her members as the lights flicker every time the chorus hits. Engaging with the audience, the crowd of fans belt the lyrics. Marshall slightly nods his head along with the music, enamored by the abrupt energy shift from the likes of the pop star barbies.

The lights complimented her barely finished sleeve tattoo and burnt orange curls, the sliver piercings that accessorized her face created a tug in his gut. She was just ethereal and dark, it intrigued him. Once Marshall becomes interested in something, he never lets go.

2019 - Interview

"Would you say that the VMAs was the start of the infamous Eminem and King pairing that we know of today?"

Marshall nods, rubbing his shaved chin, "yes. Meeting her at Warped Tour, I saw her as this crazy friend but seeing the trance she could put people in with her music, I guess I had developed a bit of an admiration for her."

"Did you expect yourself to fall in love with King? How did you deal with shifting from being married to being single with those thoughts?"

Marshall leans forward to grab a bottle of water, "I more so dreamed than strived to fall in love with her. I believed that she was far out of my league and divorcing from Kim made it a bit harder for me to see myself as boyfriend material for her."

Taglist: @slytherinroyalty16

Series Masterlist

[papil0nglegs]

Fallen angel!Adam x Moth healer!Reader

Chapter 2: Consolation

(Ch.1) (Ch.2)

Warnings: Swearing, nightmares, more angst, mentions of genitalia, a bit of body dysmorphia

A/n: Tysm for the support on the first fic <33 again I’m new to this writing stuff so pls send feedback if you have any 🫶🏽 Also for this fic I added a bit more focus on Adam as a character because i absolutely HATED how 2 demential they made him in the show 😭

Adam’s dream pov:

Im back..

Back at the garden.

Lillith ran away a few days ago because of what I proposed to her.

When I found her she was with someone else.. the fucking clown

Why him?

Why not me?

Why not me?

What’s wrong with me-?!

3rd pov:

While Adam’s nightmare, about the fateful day he saw Lilith with Lucifer, he hears distant humming in the background. Beautiful humming, mixed with the sound of running water too.

He begins to open his eyes, however it was a challenge for him to do so, because of the hardened crust that formed due to his unwiped tears from last night. He turns his head towards the humming, causing him to groan.

You then stop humming, hearing his groans from afar. “Oh! You’re awake” you say in a happy tone, grabbing a bowl and filling it up with water, along with a cloth. You then walk towards him, sitting on an armchair that was next to the couch that he had been resting on.

Adam tries to get a better look at you by raising his head a bit towards you, but is barely able to do so because of the crust around his eyes blurring his vision. “Are you.. Am I..?” He asks in a low voice, interrupted by a cough.

That’s when it hit you, he’s a new soul. Your warm smile then fades into a worried frown. “Sigh, I’m sorry. But, you’ve passed, you’re in hell now.” You then grab the wash cloth, dipping it in the cold water and placing it on his head. “Just relax, please”

Adam sighs after them, then sitting up on the couch while holding the cloth against his head. “Whyd you take me?” He asks. “You want some dick or something..”

Your eyes slightly widen, out of all the assumptions he could’ve made you didn’t expect it to be that. “What? No I helped you because you looked like you needed help, and you didn’t seem to want to aggressively assault me. That can be difficult to find down here.”

He snarls at you, then standing up from the chair weakly. “Where’s the bathroom? I need to take a wicked hot piss right now” He yawns stretching.

“Down the hall to the left” You say pointing to the hallway. “I can show you if you’d like” You suggest standing from your chair.

“Fuck you, you think I can’t find the shit room by myself?” He snaps, getting defensive because of his fever.

“It’s possible” you admit, as well as intending to messing with him. “But go ahead, I’ll make you something to eat while you’re at it, you must be starving.”

As he stomps to the bathroom he mutters insults under his breath. “Hippie bitch, I can go piss by myself, you wanna hold my dick up for me too motherfucking whore-?”

As he enters the bathroom. He gasps quietly, noticing that big parts of his appearance have changed. He now has big horns, that look exactly like the ones that were on his extermination mask, except one was missing its pointy part entirely. His skin now a reddish grey, as well as his hair but much darker. He spreads his wings a bit, expecting to see his normally feathery wings, but they’ve now turned into dragon like wings.

He sneers at the sight of it, he’s now turned into the thing that he’s hated most. A sinner. An embodiment of the wicked and cruelest parts of humanity.

“Fuck..”

Y/n’s pov:

I continue to make the stranger something to eat, I don’t have much since I haven’t gotten groceries yet, so I’m just serving him some left overs. It always hurts seeing someone get hurt from the extermination, especially when I know I can do much, most people who I want to help after an extermination simply lash out on me, worst than what the stranger had just done now. So I’m getting a little hope.

Sure he’s being quite rude right now, but who wouldn’t be after what he’s been through. He’s probably a new soul, who just fell into an extermination. I can only imagine the relief he’s gonna feel when he finds out hell isn’t always like how he first saw it.

I hear the toilet flush, along with the door opening indicating that he finished his little trip. He goes to sit at the small dinner table next to the kitchen, and I notice that his hands are dry, too dry.

“You’re not gonna wash your hands?” I ask kinda weirded out.

“Umm, and why would I need to wash my hands? My dick is clean enough.” I roll my eyes at his response. “Anyways what’s your name babe?” He asks.

I then become surprised on how much pride he has, to call a stranger who had showed them great kindness and belittle them with such a name “Im sorry, but I am not your ‘babe’” I respond in air quotes. “Secondly my name is y/n, so there is no need for these immature nicknames.”

Adam takes notice of the name, “y/n? Oof, I dated a y/n before. She was so bitchy, maybe all y/ns are” he says in a cocky voice.

“Huh, well I’d love to hear about her sometime I guess.” I then place the plate of pasta to him. “It’s not much but it’s all I have, apologies” I say sitting on the dinner table with him. He then starts to absolutely devour it as if he hadn’t eaten for a month.

I laugh in slight amusement. “what happened? Did you die of hunger or something?” I ask jokingly, unaware of what my gesture of humor would to do him.

He pauses, looking down at the plate of food, his face seems saddened but not wanting to show it. I immediately begin to regret asking such a question.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it” I say in a worried tone. “I was born here so I wouldn’t know how bad it would feel, to die then enter a place like this. Please, forgive me.” I then place my hand on top of his free one, attempting to comfort him in a way. “So, what’s your name? I’ve been wondering what it is since I brought you here.” I ask trying to distract him from his sadness.

“My name? shit uhh,,, itss Adam.” He seemed a bit scared to ask me, not sure why. Adam seems like a pretty normal name for someone like him.

“It must’ve been scary huh? Falling into an extermination like that, angels come here every once a year to kill us,, it’s horrible.” I explain. “It’s okay, this place isn’t all bad, every now and then you find some nice people. Although they are hard to find.”

Adam stares as I explain a few aspects of hell, I’m glad he’s open to trying to find out how things work around here instead of immediately going on a killing spree like some sinners.

I really do wish that he’ll open up to me soon, and that I can open up to him. I’m not sure where this will go, I just hope that it’ll go well enough.

[peterpparkrr]

Banter (ch. 1)

Series: Banter

Pairing: Roy Kent x f!Reader

Summary: You and Roy Kent do not get along. But your mysterious Bantr match on the other hand…

A/N: SEASON 3! SEASON 3! Ted Lasso is the only thing holding my sanity together so I figured I might as well write for it. Enjoy! 

(Ch. 2) (Ch. 3) (Ch. 4) (Ch. 5)

series masterlist

Shutterbug: Do you ever feel like no one really knows you?

SirSwears-a-Lot: Yes. Most of the people I interact with are fucking idiots.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Has something prompted this existential crisis?

Shutterbug: My friends. And work. Everything.

SirSwears-a-Lot: It's hard to be vulnerable with people. 

SirSwears-a-Lot: In the effort to respond to honesty with honesty, I’ve recently been struggling with the question: What the hell am I doing?

Shutterbug: I’m about to start a new job and I’m questioning every decision I’ve ever made.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Same.

You were trying to navigate your way through the AFC Richmond building when you spotted a familiar blonde ponytail down the hallway.

“Keeley!”

Keeley squealed your name when she turned around to see you. 

“EEEEEE! I’m so excited that you’re here!” She shouted as she ran toward you at full speed before launching herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck tightly as you spin her in a little circle.

To this day you weren’t sure how you’d ended up being best friends with Keeley Jones. 

You’d met on a commercial set when you were an assistant to the photographer and Keeley as the talent for the shoot had charmed your pants off. 

Not literally. You two didn’t have that kind of relationship. No matter how often Keeley joked about wanting to shag you. 

But Keeley’s uncanny ability to befriend anyone and everyone she met had worked on you. Despite being the model-slash-acress-social media star at the center of the commercial she took the time to ask you your name, understand what your job was, and pepper you with personal and ranndom questions.

And as an unmoored creative professional in London, you’d latched onto Keeley as a familiar face in the circles you both ran in (Well, circles that Keeley ran in and you sort of loitered on the outskirts of with your camera). 

And when the two of you’d walked in on her boyfriend at the time shagging the executive for the brand you two were working on the shoot for, she’d slapped him clear across the face (the boyfriend, not the executive, you both wanted to continue working). And you’d let her move in with you until she could figure out what she was going to do next.

It had bonded you together for life. 

Which is how she’d managed to rope you into taking AFC Richmond’s promo photos despite your strong anti-sport stance. 

You were easily swayed by the Keeley Jones pout. And the promise of a well-paying job.

“Ted! Roy! This is my friend-slash-photographer-extraordinaire,” Keeley called out to two men in Richmond jackets that made their way over to you, introducing you all to each other. They both looked a little too old to be players so you assumed they were coaches. “She’s going to be the photographer for the promo shoot tomorrow.” 

“Nice to meet you, I’m excited to work with the team,” You tell them as you reach out to shake their hands. 

“Pleasure to meet an old pal of Keeley’s,” The one with the mustache, Ted, replies as he shakes your hand eagerly.

“Oh! You’re American!” You exclaim in surprise.

“Yes, we are,” Ted replies with a small chuckle. “But I promise we have nothing but the utmost respect for the game y’all call football.”

“I’m not really a football fan to be honest,” You admit with a shrug. 

You don’t necessarily have anything against the game itself. But the fact that the world pours billions of dollars into an industry built around boys kicking balls around seems silly to you. Especially considering the way some fans of the game react – hooliganism, riots, bar fights, increased rates of domestic violence after matches – it all seems like a waste.

“Roy! this is the photographer for the shoot tomorrow,” Keeley tells a man with a head of dark curls and a deep frown etched into his stubble.

You can’t help but give him the once over. It’s part of the artistic nature of your work, you’re always scanning people for their best angles, natural beauty, etcetera, that you might want to work with when you’re shooting.

And he’s pretty. In that gruff, grumpy mountain man kind of way.

“Nice to meet you,” You greet him with a smile as you hold out your hand to him. “Are you a player?”

“Do I look like I’m a fucking player?” He grumbles at you before he pushed between you and Keeley and walks into the locker room. 

“Excuse me?!” You shout after him, completely taken aback by the rudeness you’d just been faced with.

“You’ll have to excuse Roy,” Keeley tells you with an apologetic smile.  “He wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, well, every morning.” 

“Right,” You reply with a glance over your shoulder in the direction he stalked off to. 

“Since he’s not a player at least I don’t have to work with him,” You add with a halfhearted smile. Trying to play the optimist for the sake of your professionality.

Keeley’s eyes widen slightly when you say that and what smile you had managed drops off your face completely.

“Um…” She mutters.

“What?” You groan.

“He’s one of the other coaches,” Keeley tells you apologetically as she purses her lips at you.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” You grumble. 

“Fucking dick,” You mutter under your breath as Keeley leads you down the hallway, explaining what the team owner, Rebecca Welton, is looking for brand-wise from these promotional photos.

Shutterbug: Why are men such assholes?

SirSwears-a-Lot: I feel like you’re expecting me to defend my gender but I honestly can’t.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Men are pricks.

Shutterbug: Agreed. This guy I met for part of my new job was a complete and total dick to me today for absolutely no reason. If I didn’t like getting paid I would have gone full psycho bitch on his ass. See how he liked that.

SirSwears-a-Lot: I would pay good money to see that.

Shutterbug: I did meet another guy at this job today who was actually a really nice guy, like unnaturally nice.

Shutterbug: And you’re nice. 

Shutterbug: So I guess #NotAllMen.

SirSwears-a-Lot: I’m not nice.

Shutterbug: Yeah, you are. 

Shutterbug: You let your niece help you come up with your dating app profile.

Shutterbug: And if you weren’t a nice guy you wouldn’t let me complain to you all the time.

SirSwears-a-Lot: I complain back to you so it’s really an even exchange. Plus most of your stories are hilarious.

Shutterbug: Well, I do usually like my work.

Shutterbug: But my pro tip of the day: don’t work with athletes. 

SirSwears-a-Lot: Noted.

“Hiya,” Ted greets you as you stand in the middle of the locker room on your phone.

You’re so engrossed in your text argument with Bantr boy about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza that you jump slightly at the sudden noise.

“Ope, sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya,” Ted apologizes. 

“Oh, it’s fine, I just got wrapped up in a text conversation,” You tell him with a shrug as you tuck your phone back into your pocket and smile back at Ted. 

“Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” Ted asks curiously.

“Just a guy,” You tell him.

Ted nods for you to continue. Something you’ve almost never had someone, especially not a guy do to you in a professional context.

“Well, I’m on Keeley’s app. I figure at least one of us deserves to have success. Even if it’s professional and not personal.”

“You’re a good friend,” Ted interjects.

“And I have been flirting with one guy who’s actually funny. And intelligent. It probably won’t go anywhere but it’s fun to have someone to chat with who doesn’t know who I am.”

“I can’t say I understand the appeal of that sort of anonymity, what if you’re chatting with a serial killer? Or a homophobe? Or someone who hates pizza?” Ted replies. “But then again, I’m not young and hip.”

“It’s a valid perspective,” You reply with a nod. “I’m honestly not even sure if he would like me. If we ever met, I mean, I don’t know if I’m his type.”

“Well, you’re an absolute delight, I can’t imagine a single guy who wouldn’t like you, unless he hates, I don’t know, happiness and joy,” Ted tells you.

“Thanks, Ted,” You reply.

“Anything else I can help ya with?” Ted asks as he slaps his hands down on his thighs. “Got any of those big heavy lights you need moved around?”

“The lights actually aren’t that heavy,” You tell him with a burst of laughter. “I think I’m just about set up here. Just waiting on your team and then we can get started.”

Shutterbug: What’s your type?

SirSwears-a-Lot: Why do you ask?

Shutterbug: Maybe I’m getting plastic surgery so that I can look like it.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Whatever you look like, you’re my type.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Unless you’re actually my boss catfishing me.

SirSwears-a-Lot: In which case, fuck you.

Shutterbug:  Damn. You’ve caught me!

You couldn’t wait for this job to be over.

The team was actually easy. Other than a few players who tried to tell you about their best angles (Jamie Tartt had insisted that you needed to only shoot him from the left and seemed unable to not smolder during the shoot which was… an interesting choice), the solo shots of the players had been a breeze.

But these coaches were a whole different beast. 

Ted was happy, almost eager to take your direction. 

But the other three?

Coach Beard hardly spoke during the entire interaction and refused to smile but his pictures came out fairly decent. 

Nathan Shelley was so nervous and fidgety it took you ages to take the photos because he kept breaking the poses to ask you if he was doing alright.

Roy Kent was impossible.

“You have to stay in the pose,” You grumbled as you pushed past your lighting rig to re-adjust Roy for what felt like the hundredth time this afternoon to. 

“I feel fucking stupid in the pose,” Roy grumbled in response.

“Well, you look stupid when you don’t do it,” You shot back.

“Just listen to the nice lady, Roy,” Ted called out, causing a few of the others to chuckle. 

Something of a crowd had formed to watch the entire process. Some of the players who were done with training and the rest of the coaches were standing around watching now that their photos were over and you could tell that Roy hated having an audience.

“Shut up!” Roy shouted at them.

You groaned as he broke the angle again.

“Alright, everyone out!” You shout once you’ve finally lost your patience. You shoo at the men. “Everyone!”

Once it was just you and Roy in the room you turned back to him.

“The sooner you do what I tell you to do. The sooner this is all over,” You tell him. “You’re handsome, I don’t understand why you hate getting your photo taken so much.”

Roy didn’t reply with words, he simply grunted at you as you stepped towards him and lifted your hand to gently tilt his face back to the direction you wanted him to face before stepping away.

“There,” You said a minute later once you’d gotten all the shots you would need. “That wasn’t so painful, now was it?”

“Yeah,” Roy grunted again as he pushed through your set-up and disappeared back into the coaches' office. 

You watched him leave with a puff of mild annoyance before you realized that meant that today’s shoot was over and hurried to back up your things.

Shutterbug: Would you ever want to meet up?

You’d gotten to the restaurant too early. After you’d sent that message you’d thrown your phone across the room and tried not to panic. 

When you’d finally built up the courage to retrieve your phone you saw that he’d already messaged you back,

SirSwears-a-Lot: Yes.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Friday night? Bacco’s, 7 pm?

You grinned at your phone for a moment before typing your response.

Shutterbug: See you then :)

And you’d been riding on cloud nine for the last few days. You hadn’t told anyone about the date. Not even Keeley. No matter how hopeful you were about this working out, you hated the thought of getting someone else's hopes up so you decided to keep it a secret. 

Just until after the date.

But it also meant that you’d finished up the day’s shoot, gone home to get ready, and somehow ended up at the restaurant thirty minutes before your reservation. So you were standing in the waiting area, trying not to look too pathetic while you scrolled through Instagram.

Every time you heard the door open your eyes would flicker up only to be met with the view of a sweet elderly couple or a group of business partners making their way through the door. 

Until you heard to door open and looked up to lock eyes with Roy Kent. 

Your eyes widened before you offered him a sarcastic smile. 

“I’m waiting for someone,” You tell him in lieu of a greeting.

“Me too,” He replies gruffly.

“Good for you,” You reply with a furrow of your brows.

“Yeah.” 

You roll your eyes and look back down at your phone, tapping out a quick message to let him know you’re here. You hit send just as your phone pings with a similar text from him. 

You look up to scan the room again just as Roy’s phone buzzes and your eyes lock as you realize that you’re the only two people in the waiting area. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” You groan.

“Fuck,” Roy mutters.