and charles is such a sweetheart

Mutant Abilities

Pairing: Charles Xavier x fem!Reader

Summary: Charles uses his powers to talk to you while you’re dancing, but this isn’t any basic conversation.

Warning: nsfw!!! dirty talk, car sex, dom!charles, smut basically

Word Count: 1,023

A/N: Legit have no idea which movie this is set during, but Charles isn’t in his wheelchair.

Originally posted by randomimaginesx

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“Laura saw you two making-out...” - Old Man Logan x Reader

#6. Getting caught making out with Logan for @jobean12-blog.

At first I started to write a story with “normal” Logan, but then…Well I got inspired by (film) Old Man Logan and Laura, so…yeah. Though it didn’t turn out how I initially thought it would, it turned out more…serious than funny, but like, with a movie like Logan as an original material…you know ^^’. . Hope you’ll still like it and will be ok with the Old Man Logan blahblahblah :

(My masterlist blog here :


You couldn’t even recall the last time you had a moment like this…Was it over a year ago ? Before Charles lost control of his power and destroyed everything he ever build ? Before all your friends died ? Before you, Logan and the professor had to run away from the X-Mansion and hide because of what happened ? Right before you called Caliban for help maybe ?

You couldn’t remember. But it was hell of a long time ago.

Yes, Logan and you hadn’t had a moment of intimacy like that in ages…

Ever since the Xavier’s school incident.

This was so refreshing. So nice.

Feeling his tongue in your mouth, his body flushed against yours, his hands roaming your body, his smile in the kiss as your grip tightened around him.

It almost felt like old times. When things were easier. When things weren’t so complicated. When it was just you and your loved ones, living an almost normal life in the mansion, saving the World on a regular basis…

But this time was long gone, and you definitely cherished that fleeting moment you had right now with your Wolverine.


It wasn’t really meant to happen. It kinda just did. Which made it even greater than  it would be if it was planned.

Since you had to run away from the X-Mansion over a year ago, you and Logan rarely had time for yourselves.

He was working really late everyday, and when he came home, was too tired to do anything else but sleep. And you had quite busy days too, working your ass off as well to be able to buy the sun seeker one day, and leave this godforsaken place.

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pushing daisies🌻

meet Ned

now meet Charlotte 

they were childhood sweethearts

but in the future Charlotte was murdered

while this was happening Ned is partners with Emerson, a private detective

Ned can help Emerson because he has this gift, where he can touch any living thing and bring it back to life but the consequences are if that living things stays alive for more than a minute another living thing in close proximity will die to take their place ( and if you bring someone back to life another human will take it’s place, it can’t be an animal ) and when he touches them again they die forever

So Ned touches the murder victum’s and ask who murdered them and immediately touch them again

but he kept charlotte alive

and of course that still like each other being childhood sweethearts and all but the problem is he can’t touch charlotte or she’ll die forever

they did come up with some pretty good idea’s though

now meet Olive, she’s a waitress that works at the pie hole

And Finally Meet Vivian and Lily, Charlotte’s Aunts

the things that make me love this show

Art by Gilmec on DeviantArt

Comatose-Chapter 3

Summary: You are the sister of Charles Xavier, You are part of the Avengers and Dating Bucky Barnes, Unbeknownst to you Bucky is having an affair with Natasha, you catch them in the act and things go downhill from there. You are a Mutant with Similar powers to Jean, Only with Immortality thrown in.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Bucky X Natasha, Logan Howlett X Reader

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Cheating, Feelings of worthlessness, Depression.

Your three days were up. It was time to go back to the compound to face Bucky and Natasha, and you had dragged Logan along for moral support. He had grumbled and fought you on it, eventually relenting by saying he would start packing up the meager belongings you’d kept in your bedroom at the compound.

Stepping out of the elevator, your nerves make themselves known. You really do not want to be here, do not want to see him, or her. On the verge of panic, hyperventilating wildly, Logan grabs your hand, giving it a quick squeeze, and muttering, “Almost done, sweetheart. You can do this.” Gathering your remaining strength, coating it in a layer of bravado, you make your way to the meeting room where the Avengers have settled to discuss your transfer.

“Morning,” you mumble as you enter, avoiding the pained gaze of Bucky.

“Well, hey there stranger,” Tony quips. “You ready?” You had spoken to Tony as soon as Logan had informed you that he had received the call from Charles. He wasn’t happy with your decision, but he respected it nonetheless.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you reply.

“Alright! Let’s get this started,” he says as he claps his hands together, the sudden noise pulling a flinch out of you. “(y/n) is being transferred out to an undisclosed location, to help head up an all Mutant team.” You screw your eyes shut as a slew of protests erupt around the room. You can’t bear to look at any of them; to see the hurt on their faces.

“(Y/N) what the hell?” comes Steve voice. “You disappear for three days and then come back to tell us your leaving?” he asks, disbelief coloring his tone.

“Steve,” you sigh. “I can’t be here anymore. I can’t offer you a better explanation than that.” As your gaze catches Bucky’s, he’s looking at you like he’s going to break apart any second. His entire being screams defeat, and you can’t help but feel guilty. Casting your gaze down, you mumble, “I’m sorry, I made a promise to you all, but I need to do this for me. If you ever need me, I’m just a phone call away.” Lurching to your feet, you rush to leave, reaching the door in record time. Flinging it open, you race out, frantically searching for Logan.

Spotting him lounging on a chair, your bags packed at his feet, you walk quickly toward him. “We need to go. Right now,” you hiss when you hear footsteps behind you. Grabbing Logan by the hand, you try desperately to move his adamantium filled behind out of the chair and toward the elevator.

“I see you moved on fairly quickly, (y/n),” comes Bucky’s angry declaration causing you to freeze mid step; frustration and hurt welling inside you.

“At least I waited until we broke up, Barnes!” you retort scathingly.

“This him?” Logan asks, eerily calm. You don’t reply as you whirl around to face Bucky, stopping dead at the sight of Natasha next to him.

“Listen, Bub, you need to back the fuck off. Haven’t ya done enough harm?” Logan snarls, advancing menacingly on Bucky.

“This is not your fight, Logan!” you yell, grabbing for his hand, trying to keep them apart which sets Bucky off. He pulls back his metal fist and lands a hard punch to Logan’s jaw; the resounding clang of metal on metal leaves your ears ringing, and you wait for the shit storm that’s about to be unleashed. “Logan,” you plead as he unsheathes his claws.

Taking his classic fight stance, claws singing when he runs them together, Logan eyes Bucky up and down. “Alrigh’ Bub. Ya asked for it!”

Logan runs at Bucky while you try and yank him back by the edge of his shirt. It tears, sending you falling onto your ass as the force propels you backward. Bucky is holding his own, landing heavy blows to Logan’s body, who slashes a long gash into Bucky’s thigh.

“Stop!” Natasha screams, making a beeline for Logan.

You scramble upright, flinging out a blast of power that sends her into the wall. Focusing on the fighting men, you separate them forcefully with your mind. “ENOUGH!” you scream, voice amplified by your power. “Stop acting like children! Wait for me outside, Logan.” He growls like an angry animal, refusing to move toward the exit. “Logan, please!” you beg, and he finally relents, spitting at Bucky’s feet as he makes his retreat. What cuts and bruises he’d sustained were already healing, unlike Bucky whose blood was dripping onto the floor.

“What the hell was that!” Natasha yells at you. “Your friend nearly killed him!”

You can only stare at her in shock. “You, Natasha, have no right to speak to me. No right to look at me. Get the fuck out of my face before I ruin yours!” you snarl at her. She visibly pales at the threat, and Bucky appears to come to her rescue.

Except he hasn’t, his intentions made clear with his next words. “Don’t leave,” he murmurs, limping toward you, causing Natasha to gasp in surprise.  

“W-what?” Natasha whispers.

“Please baby, don’t leave. We can work this out,” he reiterates, ignoring Natasha, coming to a halt before you. “I can make this right, (Y/N),” he murmurs as he pulls you to his chest; his grip on you is nearly bone crushing. “I made a mistake, I’m sorry. Please don’t go.”

Natasha’s sharp intake of breath is filled with pain, and you feel slightly vindictive. She hadn’t been expecting this, and you debate for a second if you really need to go; if you couldn’t forgive him and move past this.

No, you think. There was no real guarantee he wouldn’t do it again. He had hurt you, he had shattered your sense of self worth with one action, and he had made you lose control of yourself. No. No matter how badly you wanted to stay with him, you needed time for reflection away from all of them.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” you say as you push away from him. “But I can’t stay here, I can’t be with you. Not after what you did.” A stray tear pushes itself past your defenses and falls down your cheek. “I love you, but I won’t let you break me,” you say as you walk away, hands shaking and pain threatening to overwhelm you.

With every agonizing step you take away from him, you repeat to yourself, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.

Tags: Please tell me if i missed anyone. xox

@kika-doll @barry1215 @youreaninjaturtle-blog @erinvanlyssel @melconnor2007 @i-had-a-life-once @imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes @justreadingfics @griseldaevn @marvelrevival @gingerbatchwife @minxyvixen @megs4real @bolontiku @debzybrazy @nennesse @thatweirdgaygirl @dustycelt @gypsycat711-blog @sapphire1727 @arrowswithwifi @flirtswithdanger @officialconsultingpsychologist @fangirlextraordinaire @hillrich @actual-bucky-barnes-trash @chipilerendi @ohlookfanfiction @redroomproperty @mizzzpink @barneschesters-whore @buckysinthesinbin @buckyappreciationsociety @drkwngdangl @llanda @ayo-minty-jess @happyskywhale @stargurl16 @akoya-pearls @sporadicalpacacloud @psychicwitchphilosopher

Charles Xavier x reader (yes, another one)

Originally posted by julee-art

“Y/N, could you please come to my office for a second?” You heard Charles’s voice ring in your head.

“What is it Charles? Can’t you tell me now?” You asked turning pages in the book you were reading.

“I would prefer you coming here darlin’. It’s important.” You sighed and put the book down.

“Alright professor. I’m coming.”

“Thank you dear.” You walked up the stairs of the busy school. It was filled with children of all ages. From afar you could see Hank desperately trying to rush some of them into a classroom but that didn’t seem to work very well. You giggled and walked down the corridor to the professor’s office. You knocked twice and entered the room.

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you know what I love more than college aus?  fake relationship/dating.  slow burn.  this is being broken up into multiple parts so i can satisfy the need for slow burn.

title: homecoming, pt. 1 (or, how my latte-stealing coworker became my boyfriend for the weekend)
fandom: hamilton
pairing: tjeff x reader
rating: t
word count: 2975

You have a high school reunion that you can’t miss, and you’re in need of a boyfriend to keep both your parents and your classmates off your back.  You don’t have a boyfriend — but you do have one very irritating, accommodating coworker.

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Beautiful Imperfection|| Charles Xavier

Originally posted by mcavoy


Tag List: @xavier-chxrles @katiedreamy @rivertales @t0ny-st4nk 

Prompt: Charles believes you can’t be in love with him because he lacks one thing almost every man has - legs. So when you finally realize it makes him super insecure, you set off to show him that his imperfection is indeed quite beautiful. 

Set during Xmen Apocalypse - in a world where Alex Summers never really died! Yay!

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You - Alex Summers

words - 2,356

pairing - alex summers x fem!reader

warnings - angst, character death (my poor bby :’( )

a/n - i’ve posted this before but it’s one of my favorite pieces i’ve written so i’m posting it again lol

tags - @put-in-writing , @alexs-ummers , @v-writings , @harringtonmaximoff . @emmcfrxst

hope you don;t mind me taggin’ ya’ll!


If you must wait, wait for them here in my arms as I shake

For three years you waited.

1,095 days you spent waiting for Alex to return home from the war. You didn’t know the exact day he was coming home, just an estimation, so as you sat there, in one of his old sweaters, with a cup of tea and a book you had read a thousand times before, you weren’t expecting a knock to sound at the door - let alone who was on the other side of it.

Your furrowed your eyebrows, setting your book and mug down, walking towards the door. You unlocked the locks and swung the door open, revealing the face you hadn’t seen in person in over three years.

Your eyes immediately filled with tears as you launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly, pulling him as close as possible. Your tears soaked into the olive colored fabric, causing small dark spots.

His arms wound around your waist, holding you tightly. And you knew, if he could, he would never let you go. He picked you up slightly, your toes barely brushing against the floor, and lowered his head into the crook of your neck, finally letting the tears he had been holding in out. And once he did it was like a dam broke, one that he feared he may never be able to close and he was oddly okay with that.

You felt his tears drip off his chin onto your shoulder, as you held onto him like the only tether to life itself.

It was then, in that moment of pure relief and serenity, you knew that those months of waiting were worth it - he was worth it.

If you must weep, do it right here in my bed as I sleep

You shot up, body trembling and tears dripping off your chin. Your voice came out in ragged gasps as you tried to catch it. You reached a hand out to the side of the bed, feeling for Alex’s sleeping form, but finding his side empty.

Your eyes widened in panic and you quickly shuffled out of bed, headed for the kitchen. You walked out of your bedroom, to see the kitchen light on. You sighed in relief, knowing your dream had been just that and followed the light into the kitchen.

You padded in softly, Alex’s shirt from a few hours before brushing against your thighs. You saw Alex, clad in a pair of gray sweatpants, hanging low on his hips, and leaning against the counter, running a hand through his hair. He leaned his elbows on the counter and closed his eyes, tipping his head back and exhaling deeply.

You stopped in front of him, wrapping your arms around his torso, burying your face in his bare chest. You felt him tense momentarily, before relaxing and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

“You had a nightmare too?” you mumbled, lips moving softly against his chest.

He nodded silently, resting his chin on the top of your head. He took a deep breath through his nose, the scent of your lavender conditioner soothing his still racing heart. “You wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to the top of your head softly. “You wanna talk about yours?”

“No,” you said, smiling against his chest. “I’m alright now.”

You pulled away, your hand trailing from his side to his wrist, grabbing it softly. You pulled him towards you and began walking back to the bedroom. “C’mon, let’s get to bed.”

He smiled and followed you out of the kitchen and into the room. You laid on the bed and pulled him down, his arms supporting his weight as he hovered over you. He leaned his face down, nose brushing yours, as his breath swept the stray hairs out of your eyes.

He softly pressed his lips to yours, his lips taking their time with his ministrations. Your hand traveled from his shoulder to his hair, weaving your fingers in the brown locks that have grown much longer in the years he’s been back from war.

He pulled away, resting his forehead on yours, eyes closed with the hint of a smile on his face. He dropped himself to your side and pulled you closer, prompting you to rest your head on his chest with an arm slung over his torso.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, murmuring a quiet, “I love you” against it.

You turn your head to look at him, smiling tiredly with half-lidded eyes. “I love you more than you could ever imagine.”

If you must mourn, my love, mourn with the moon

and the stars up above. If you must mourn, don’t do it alone

You and Alex sat on the couch in Sean’s old house, the Cassidy’s sitting on the love seat opposite the two of you, with Sean’s cousin, Black, in the chair beside them.

Alex had his head down, arms slung over his knees, jaw clenched hard. You hadn’t known Banshee like Alex, all the memories you had of him were stories told to you by Alex of their time at Xavier’s, but you felt Alex’s loss as well.

You wrapped your arm around Alex’s shoulders, leaning your head on his shoulder. He looked up at you through his hair, before straightening his back and wrapping an arm around your waist, sliding you closer to him. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, before slightly burying his face in the hair draped over your shoulder.

You felt the tears roll down his cheeks and onto your shoulder, the liquid seeping into the fabric, coloring it a dark red. You felt his shoulders shake slightly, as his arm tightened around you. You brought your hands to his hair and ran your fingers through it, murmuring softly in his ear.

He raised his head from your shoulder, eyes red and bloodshot, tear tracks leading to his chin. He walked over to Mr. Cassidy and shook his hand and repeated the action for Mrs. Cassidy and Black.

You smiled sadly, giving them your condolences, and followed Alex out of the house and to his car.

Although Alex had already known about Sean’s death, he was in the war, so he wasn’t able to give his condolences. Seeing his family, and hearing them talk about what had happened to him was more than enough to move both you and Alex to tears.

The entire trip home was spent in silence. The two of you walked into your shared apartment. He was headed towards the bedroom when you grabbed his wrist stopping him in his tracks.

“I understand that you’re grieving, but Alex, please, don’t push me away. Let me be there for you.”

You grabbed his face in your hands, bringing it to meet yours. You brushed your lips against his softly, before pressing yours to his. The kiss was tender and short, but just enough to convey what you were trying to say.

He looked at you, studying your features, before you saw his eyes well up with tears, the first couple dropping down his cheeks, hitting the corners of his mouth. You pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms snugly around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you tight, with the fear that you would disappear as easily and quickly as everyone else.

He pulled you closer to him, a feat you didn’t think possible, and reveled in the comfort that came with being in your arms.

If you must leave, leave as though fire burns under your feet

“It won’t take long, babe, I promise,” Alex, slipping on a shirt over his dark washed jeans. “Scott’s powers have manifested and I really need to get him to the professor.”

You sat up, holding the sheet to your still bare chest. “I know, he’s your brother, but I’ll miss you.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips, pulling away with a grin. “I think I’ll miss you more,” he said, accentuating every word with a kiss.

You giggled into his lips, causing him to laugh. “I doubt that.”

“Of course you do,” he replied, walking towards the door. “I will be back in like two hours, tops.”

“You better come back, Summers, or I’ll find you. I know where you live, lest you forget.”

Alex shot you a lopsided grin. “I have you here, in my bed, waiting for me to get home. I’d be a damn fool not to come back.”

“Damn straight,” you said, smirking.

Alex groaned and jogged back over to you, pressing another lingering kiss on your lips. “Okay, now I really have to go.”

“Love you, ass hat,” you called to his retreating form.

“Love you too, sweetcheeks.”

If you must speak, speak every word as though it were unique

You sat on the couch, eyes glued to the latest reality show that had its hooks in you when you heard your phone ring. You pushed off the couch and padded over to the landline on the wall of your kitchen.

“Hello?” you answered, twirling the cord around your finger.

“Hey, doll,” Alex answered. “It’s me.”

You smiled, biting your lip. “Hey, babe. What’s up?”

You heard him sigh on the other line and you knew what the next words out of his mouth were gonna be before he even spoke them. “I’ll be home later than I thought. Charles needs me to take him to see Moira Mactaggert and Hank has to watch the school while he’s not there.”

You groaned in frustration, leaning your back against the wall the phone hung on. “It’s okay, I understand, it’s Charles. How did everything go with Scott?”

Alex chuckled on the other line. “Okay, I guess. He burned down Charles’ favorite tree, but he got accepted. He reminds me a lot of myself when I was his age.”

You laughed slightly, pushing off the wall and walking over to the window to look outside. “Well, he is your brother. I expect nothing less from a Summers.”

He laughed, and you could tell he was sporting the biggest grin. “Babe, I gotta go, but I’ll see you when I get home. Okay?”

“Gotcha. I love you, Alex. Be safe.”

“I love you too,” he said, the smile ringing clear through his tone. “I will.”

If you must die, sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life’s best part.

And if you must die, remember your life.

You stood there, raindrops bouncing off your umbrella, over Alex’s grave that held no body. He didn’t deserve this, this death. Hell, he didn’t deserve the life he got.

He deserved so much more. He deserved the world and you would have given it to him if you had the chance. He was so brave and selfless, it was no surprise to you when Hank told you how he died - trying to stop Apocalypse from taking Charles.

Here you are, standing before the headstone with his name, date of birth, and some meaningless quote scrawled into the stone, that did him no justice. Said nothing of his time with the X-Men or his time in the service and it sure as hell didn’t say what he sacrificed his life for.

Your jaw was clenched as the tears flowed nonstop down your cheeks and off your chin, mixing with the rain once they left your skin. The sky seemed to be mourning the loss of Alex Summers just as much as you were because it cried for hours.

You couldn’t help but stare blankly at the plot where they had buried an empty coffin because his body couldn’t be found. You would never say it out loud, but there was a small part of you that was skeptical. Alex shouldn’t have been killed by that blast, he would have absorbed it. But, then you would start thinking more rationally. Well, if he’s alive, then where is his body?

You heard someone walk up to you, but you couldn’t be bothered to turn your head to look when they stopped to your right.

“He loved you a lot, you know,” Scott said, lens-covered eyes staring ahead at his brother’s grave. “You were his world. He would’ve done anything for you.”

A fresh wave of tears hit your eyes as you ducked your head down to avoid Scott’s eyes, even though you couldn’t very well see them behind his glasses. “I know. He was my everything too.”

You sniffled, running a hand down your face, thankful you didn’t wear makeup today. “He worried about you, Scott. He didn’t want you going through what he went through, solitary confinement, the war. He knew you would make something of yourself. And so do I. Don’t let his absence make you trip up.”

Scott looked down, before looking over to you. You meet his gaze and sent him a sad smile. You watched as a tear slowly fell from beneath his glasses, then another, then another. Until tears were freely streaming down, choked sobs wracking his body.

You bit your lip, trying, but failing, to stop your own sobs from escaping your throat. You pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms around him as his body shook.

You thought back to the times you had comforted Alex, pulling him close, whispering comforting words to calm him down. You thought back to when he talked about Darwin dying and then your mind wandered to a couple years back when you went with him to the Cassidy residence.

These memories caused a new wave of tears to cascade from your eyes, soaking the shoulder of Scott’s suit jacket.

The world had lost one of it’s best and the only people to know about it were the few that were closest to him. The few that had actually bothered to get close to him, to get to know him.

Although it hurts and although the pain right now seems unbearable. You don’t regret a thing.

Alex Summers was the best part of your life. He made your small, insignificant life a little more bearable.

i did not mean for this to be 5k words.  i was actually gonna stop after the rooftop scene but i have NO CHILL WHATSOEVER.  anyway ya’ll so this is the last part of homecoming, but there will be an epilogue, which i have already planned.

that being said!!!  i love you all so much for your kind words and nice comments and sweet messages.  i read every reblog for tags and comments and my heart swells when you tell me you enjoy my writing.  your feedback means so much to me and i love ya’ll.

title: homecoming, pt. 6 (or, rooftop confessions)
    ( part one, part two, part three, part four, part five )
fandom: hamilton
pairing: tjeff x reader
rating: M FOR SMUT
word count: 5444
tagged: @notalwaysfair @hamiltrash-life @aeichajoanes @polymath-pain-in-the-ass @blueco16 @yehummno @ask-aph-belarusian-figure-skater @robotic-space @iconic-sentiments @nadialinett14 @maybeterrance@noluckmonday @theresnofandomforthis @inimitabledaveed @kyloslightsaberdick @lawliette1031 @sammyfoundhis-shoe @aceplaysbass @jugjcnes @sandy-anakin @clamilton @unknown1200 @alienxsara @kanadianwithashippingproblem​ @nervous-crossbow

You have a high school reunion that you can’t miss, and you’re in need of a boyfriend to keep both your parents and your classmates off your back.  You don’t have a boyfriend — but you do have one very irritating, accommodating coworker.

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1920 Lover

Okay… this was my first attempt at smut, pretty sure it’s not amazing. i have no idea how to describe it. The fic is as wild and untamed as the Jazz Age, a.k.a. my favorite period of American History. yes, it does take place in 1925, where my Fitzgeralds at?! i really hope you like it. Thank you for reading x

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Comatose-Chapter 8

Summary: You are the sister of Charles Xavier. You are part of the Avengers and dating Bucky Barnes. Unbeknownst to you Bucky is having an affair with Natasha. When you catch them in the act, things go downhill from there. You are a Mutant with similar powers to Jean, only with Immortality thrown in.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Bucky X Natasha, Logan Howlett X Reader

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Cheating, Feelings of worthlessness, Depression.

The days had flown by in a haze of color. Days filled with sparring and forced laughter, with trying to be the person you once were. You had forced yourself to feel, to smile, to laugh, and you were slowly making progress. Lately, it had been less about forcing and more about living. You could surprise yourself by laughing without having to think that maybe you should first. The numbness was still there, but it was less. The wall was weaker. Day by day you had gotten better, closer to who you once had been.

Ultimately, you felt ready to go on missions again, which had brought you to your current predicament.

Grabbing your assailant by the hair, you bash his head into the wall twice before dropping him to the floor. Daintily stepping over him, you make your way into the room containing the servers. It was supposed to be a simple recon mission, but, as usual, you had encountered more resistance than you thought there would be. Inserting the flash drive into the USB port, you start the download, while straining your senses for any movement outside. Which is why it takes you a minute to notice the intel that is flashing across the screen, currently being downloaded.

You suck in a sharp breath as you  backtrack through the files. What the hell? Panic mounting, you scan the information as quickly as you can. Your movements are jerky as you detach the flash drive, and make your way back to the jet as quickly as you can. A few stragglers get in your way but are dispatched with a flurry of movement or a flick of power.

Stepping onto the jet, you nod at Logan when he asks if you got what you came for. Plopping down in the seat opposite him, you let out a long defeated sigh.

“You alright kiddo?” he  asks worriedly.

Raising your gaze to his, you swallow down the lump forming in your throat. “No. We have a problem. We need to get back ASAP.” Urgency bleeds into your tone. Logan studies you intently for a moment before nodding once and turning his attention back to flying the jet.

Thirty minutes later, you hurry through the mansion, desperately needing to get to Charles. You spot him speaking with Storm and send out a mental call. He pauses briefly, nods minutely, and excuses himself from Storm. You trail behind him, fear for the people you love setting off every nerve in your body, making you jumpy.

“We have a problem,” you say, once the doors to his office have closed behind you. As you plonk your butt into a chair, the exhaustion you feel is palpable, worming its way into your mind. “I found a classified op outlining an attack on the Mansion, Charles.They intend to kidnap me and morph my power into something dark. They want another phoenix.”

He stares at you for a full ten seconds. “Who does?” he finally asks.

“Hydra. They want to use me to take out the Avengers. They have plans to launch an assault on the compound and recapture the Winter Soldier.” Pinching the bridge of your nose you forge on. “They want to use us against each other, Charles. They want to use me against James.” Breath hitching in your throat, you try your best to quell the tide of tears threatening to stem over. Not now, you think. You’ve been so numb for so long, you don’t need the return of these feelings now. Not now when feeling nothing makes things easier. If you let the fear in, let the emotions return now, you will break. And if you break… will you ever be able to patch yourself back together?

“We must warn them,” Charles replies. “And we must get you to safety.”

“I am not sitting idly by while the people I love are in danger, Charles!” you snap. You need to do something, be in the action, or you’ll go crazy. If you’re too still, you’ll feel and lose what little control you’ve gained these last weeks.

“What do you propose we do, (y/n)?” he inquires.

Steeling yourself for your next words, you breathe deeply before you reply, “I need to go back. I have to help.” He makes to protest but you hold up your hand. “I have to do this, Charlie.”

Though he sighs, Charles nods able to understand your needs, perhaps even better than you can with how he’s been in your head lately chip, chip, chipping away at your walls.. Placing his fingers against his temple he sends out a call for Logan.

The silence stretches between you while you await Logan’s arrival, each deeply absorbed in your own thoughts. You hear the tell-tale shuffle of Logan outside the door, and a small smile plays on your lips. He throws open the door without knocking, cigar dangling from his lips, hair in disarray, and grease stains covering him from the waist up.There isn’t an inch of skin on his forearms which isn’t covered in some kind of black stain, and his once white wife-beater is now a murky, sweat stained grey with patches of black where he’d clearly wiped his hands.

You quirk a brow at him, lips twitching, and playfully quip, “No time for a shower?”  

He cocks a brow and chews on the end of his cigar, the look on his face the one that calls you smartass without needing to voice the word. “Trying to get me outta my clothes already, sweetheart?” he shoots back, a smirk spreading around the mangled cigar. You roll your eyes but Charles clears his throat meaningfully before you get a chance to fire back.

“I have an errand for you and (Y/n),” he says, putting an end to your bickering. The spoilsport.

Logan groans knowing instinctively he’s not going to like whatever this errand will be. Finally removing the cigar from his lips, he mutters, “Ah hell.”

Twenty minutes, and one awkward phonecall to Tony later, you head for your shower as Logan heads for his. Stripping off your soiled combat suit, you step under the spray, allowing the hot water to massage some of the tension out of your tight shoulders. You know that going back to the compound will open wounds not yet healed, hurts not yet dealt with, but you had little choice in the matter.

Staying at the mansion would put the children and your family in danger. Sure they were special children, but they were nowhere near ready to be X-men, and Charles could take care of himself, but that didn’t mean you would let him if leaving made that choice unnecessary. You had to leave, and you had to warn The Avengers. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but you had little choice in the matter. Still, if you spent an extra ten minutes hiding out in your shower, not yet ready to face what was coming, who was going to call you on it?

Stepping out of the shower and wrapping yourself in a towel you make your way into your bedroom. Logan is leaning against the opposite wall, your bags packed at his feet. You wonder if he even washed the grease off, or if it was just hidden under the long sleeved plaid shirt for no one that dirty could get ready that fast without cutting a few corners.

“I’ll be ten minutes,” you inform him. He grunts his understanding, a very Logan thing to do. It helps you feel the tiniest bit better. Like this is all normal and you can get through what comes next. “Thank you for packing for me.”

He arches a brow in your direction. “Are you gonna be alright, kid?” he asks hesitantly. “I don’t know if going back there is the best decision for ya.”

Sighing, you step behind a screen to change. “What choice do I have, Logan? Should I let them burn? Become what everyone is afraid I will become?” Zipping up the fly of you jeans you reach for the bra hanging over the top of the screen. “I will not stay out of this fight. I will protect the people I care for. No matter the cost.” Pulling a shirt over your head, you step out from behind the screen.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Your eyes dart to Logan and immediately lock with his. They’re hard, hot with the anger in them. But you can see the fear living there, the desperation hidden behind layers of gruffness and his ‘I don’t care’ attitude which isn’t fooling anyone. The guy’s got a marshmallow center, soft and gooey, and he’s afraid. Afraid that he’ll be called on to do the unthinkable a second time.

A flash of memory flits through your mind, but instead of Jean standing before him, his claws through her body, it’s you standing on that hill. You shake your head to clear the image. There’s only one problem with his fear. Those claws of his, while painful, can’t kill you.

Nodding slowly, you walk across the room, reminded with every step just what a predator he can be as he straightens up to loom large, seeming to suck the air from the room with his determined scowl. Reaching for his hand, you pass a feather light caress over his knuckles. Over the claws which have taken more lives than either of you care to count. He curls his hand into a fist, pulling it away. A warning growl rises in his chest. An argument is brewing, one you stop by placing your finger against his lips.

When his silence is guaranteed, you shift your fingers to the stubble of his cheek. Coarse hair, rough beneath your fingertips, leads up into his sideburns. Brushing your thumb over his cheekbone, you feel him relax under the soft touch, a wild thing tamed for the moment and willing to listen. “Logan. I’m not Jean. I won’t fail in this. I’m not her. You’re not going to have to make that sacrifice. Not again.”

His eyes search yours, holding you there, looking deep for something that you can’t define. When his piercing gaze darkens, the hard eyes filling with an emotion that isn’t fear or anger, but another that you aren’t sure you wish to name, you freeze before the suddenly hunting Wolverine. It shocks you further when his hand closes around the nape of your neck. The other bands across your back, and he jerks you to him. His mouth is on yours, hot, hard, demanding. Searing through you. Kissing you with an intensity long forgotten. When he lifts his head, you inhale hard, your lungs desperate for air. Heart beating wildly in your chest, you stare up at him in shock and can only think, Fuck…

Logan smirks a wide grin and runs his hand through your hair. “Alright, let’s get moving,” he says, grabbing up your bags and striding purposefully from the room with a nonchalance you envy, as if he hadn’t just kissed you breathless.

He leaves you standing alone, wondering what the hell just happened.

Tags: Here we are pretties. hopefully the tags cooperate. Strike through means tags aren’t working

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Finding Her

Part 1/5


Pairing: marliza (maria x eliza)

Premise: modern soulmate au – Eliza and Maria desperately seek their soulmate in a world where their first words to you are written on your arm from birth.

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1337

a/n: I’m really excited for this fic!! The next part will hopefully be up tomorrow, but may be up the next day… anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

Maria fiddled with her sleeve, yanking it as far over her wrist as possible. She hated showing her soulmate tattoo at work. On several occasions, guys with no tattoos had read hers aloud, trying to trick her into thinking they were soulmates.

She had always had this kind of problem. She was exceedingly beautiful, with a gorgeous curvy figure, beautiful soft curls of hair, and large, deep eyes. Guys were always taking advantage of her; mostly guys with no soulmate tattoos, but, sadly, several with them.

Keep reading

Did I hear someone say 'Big Daddy Mags'?

Erik is late. Even with his powers, meandering through Friday night traffic is a nightmare. He couldn’t have helped it though. Wanda had wanted her braid redone and Peter had been adamant on finding his silver jacket. At least they look docile now, sprawled on the back seat of the car- Wanda clutching her teddy bear to her chest and Peter ogling at his new goggles. He can only pray that they don’t start a fuss.

Erik thinks that this all too early. But Charles had insisted that he wanted to meet the kids. What was the hurry? They had known each other for only three months and been only on a couple of dates. He had not voiced any of his concerns at the time. But now, he’s sure that this is a very bad idea. He really likes Charles. Genius, smart, kind, mutant and gorgeous Charles. And his kids have a tendency of scaring away his potential partners. The last time it had happened, Emma had ran away like she’d seen wildfire.

It’s not that his children are monsters. No. Never that. But sometimes, they are unruly and unpredictable with strangers. Especially Peter. They had talked about it and the children had promised to be on their best behaviour for the entirety of the night.

Finding it difficult to shake off his building nerves, Erik pulls his shields up and decides to keep it that way for the rest of the night; lest he scares away Charles with his feelings instead of his children.

Introductions go swimmingly well. His five year olds seem timid at first but quickly warm up to Charles. A waiter takes their order of soup. When Charles enquires them about their mutations, Peter dashes off around their corner of the restaurant in quick laps and Wanda levitates her teddy bear a few feat up in the air, red sparks flying with it. Erik can’t help the proud smile that threatens to split his face every time the children display their powers. Charles- who is now wedged between Wanda and Peter on the other side of their round table- seems equally enthralled by the little show, laughing and commending them on their control.

A few minutes after soup is served, Wanda turns towards Charles and says innocently, ‘I like your mind. It’s warm. I didn’t like Ms. Frost’s. I was sharp and cold.’

'Well, thank you sweetheart. I like your mind too,’ Charles replies with a genuine smile.

With his shields still intact, Erik reaches out to Charles telepathically. I’m sorry. She still doesn’t have control over her telepathy.

Charles looks up at him and smiles. It’s fine Erik. She’s just curious. No harm done.

Wanda senses the exchange between the two and continues, 'I love my Daddy’s mind too. It’s my favourite minds after Nana’s.’

Erik should be disappointed that his daughter would pick his Mother’s mind over his, but he’s not. Probably he would do the same.

Charles laughs warmly and says, 'I like your Daddy’s mind too.’

Erik gets too busy arranging his square cloth on his lap to hide the flush on his face.

That is when his treacherous son opens his treacherous mouth.

'You’re very good looking,’ Peter starts. 'Is that why my Daddy loves you?’

Erik chokes around the first sip of soup. It’s bloody fucking hot. His tongue might have burnt for good. He hears Charles stuttering across him but he doesn’t lift his head from where he has bent down to sip on the soup.

'Does he now? I didn’t know that,’ Charles says recovering. His voice still catches on 'know’.

'Yes, yes! he does,’ Wanda says, motivated by Peter’s brevity. ‘He even keeps looking at your photo on his phone.’

Dammit. Telepath. Wanda’s use of her telepathy so erratic that Erik has to remind himself to keep his thoughts behind shields.

Suddenly, the constituents of his soup become very important to Erik. There’s coriander… pepper. There’s salt. Definitely salt.

He catches Peter’s voice again. 'Mr. Charles, did you know that my Daddy can control metal? Even big ones?’

'Yes dear, I do. Your Daddy has a very unique mutation.’ Charles says. There’s a hint of a smile in his voice.

‘He had dressed as Magneto- the metal bender of our birthday,’ Peter continues, not wiser of his father’s mortification. 'Our friends loved it very much.’

Wanda adds cheerfully, 'Daddy danced with me on Ballet class Annual day. He even wore a pink cape.’

Erik lifts his head up on instinct and corrects, 'It was Maroon Wanda.’

It's​ a mistake. He catches Charles’ eye. It’s bright with a undecipherable emotion in it.

Erik ducks his head again, concentrating on adjusting the cloth on his lap.

'Remy and Kitty love Daddy’s Magneto very much,’ Peter says. He’s never this talkative with strangers. ‘They call him Daddy Mags!’

This time, Erik coughs around his mouthful of water. Droplets of water go flying across the table. He quickly recovers and apologises, dabbing down his shirt and then the table.

Wanda continues, ignoring his presence, ‘Even the Mommies in my Ballet class love my Daddy a lot.’

This was new information to Erik; but at this moment, he doesn’t know if he should be proud or alarmed.

When Erik looks up again, Charles is looking at him with the same expression in his eyes. There’s even a smile on his face. But a smile could mean anything- from a friendly greeting to passive derision. Hell, he knows it by personal experience. He uses his to scare away people.

Erik wants to reprimand the children and tell them to start on their dinner. But they carry on relentlessly, Daddy this… Daddy that… Charles’ responses encourage​ them even more. His children never spoke like this to strangers. Erik doesn’t know what’s gotten into them.

He wishes he could hear Charles’ thoughts now. It’s unnerving to not know what Charles is thinking. Whether he wants to run away like Emma or not. He wouldn’t blame Charles if he wants to distance himself.

He sighs, gazing into his now cold soup.

Erik is startled by a hand on his arm. Charles is on his side, sliding into the chair next to him. The twins have vanished to admire at fishes on the other side of the restaurant.

'Don’t be so embarrassed Erik,’ Charles tells him smiling. 'They were only telling me things they love about you, hoping that it will get me to love you.’

And is it working? Erik has the mad urge to ask.

Charles scoots closer to him, ducks his head, tracing a fingertip from his wrist to forearm, says in a sultry voice: 'Too bad. They didn’t have to take the trouble.’ He looks up at Erik through lowered lashes. ‘Because, I already love you… Daddy.’

Everything that happens after is a complete blur. The bowls of soup fall over both Charles and him. Erik supposes that it has something to do with his hands falling limp on the table on hearing Charles’ words. The commotion pulls the children’s attention. Peter zooms past them causing several glass plates to shatter in his wake. Wanda’s teddy bear goes missing in the confusion. It takes them forever to find Mr. Bear and soothe a crying Wanda. By the time they pay for the damages and reach home, it’s way past the twins’ bedtime. Charles volunteers to help clean the children and put them to bed. It’s way past midnight when they sleep themselves. But in the morning, when Charles plods into the kitchen in nothing but his cape draped around his body, Erik realises that the previous night was worth enduring. Completely worth. Over and again.

Ya. I got carried away with this one. Couldn’t help myself. Sorry. And I had to repost this because Tumblr stopped working!

This is all the fault of Community’s episode “Debate”.

Erik used to be in a debate club, and he was good. Except of course for his tiny problem of not wanting to defend a side he didn’t agree with. Their loss really.

He still likes to watch though. Tonigh there’s a debate organized at his new college. The theme? Is mankind good or bad by nature.

And their college team is represented by Charles Xavier. Erik knows Charles. He is a naive it’s-always-sunshine always-smiling fool. Him having to defend that men are bad? This is going to be a massacre.

And a massacre it is. Just not how Erik expected it to go. Charles is intense, ruthless, never giving his opponent even the slightest chance of getting the upper hand. Erik may be in love.

My weaknesses include but are not limited to:

  • dark!Charles/Charles joining the Brotherhood
  • Erik being a complete sweetheart to Charles
  • Peter blurting that he’s Erik’s son and Erik doing something embarrassing like hugging him because holy shit he still has family
  • Charles being clumsy
  • Erik teaching Charles grace and how to fight
  • Charles and Erik teaching each other languages
  • Peter crushing on Raven but respecting her and Hank’s relationship
  • Raven and Hank being cute together
  • Ororo existing
Coming? (Erik Lehnsherr x Reader)

Request: Can you please do an Erik Lehnsherr x Reader where the Reader is panicking because she is super behind on homework and also struggling with abuse at home and depression and Erik comforts her? I would also like it to be long, if you can. ;-; -Anon

A/N: I am sorry to disappoint the person who requested this but I didn’t feel comfortable writing the ‘abuse part’. MASTERLIST

Word Count: 805

Warnings: Stress, Depression

Tags: @whitefangedrose @onlyprincess15 @i-dropped-my-taco @thelonelyshe-wolf @winnie-the-ghoul @zuni21798 @harishaanne@xloudwhocares @spn-dean-sam-casspn @kotetsuhiro @swettylittlegirl @maggiemo195 @maddyevans16 @majestic-squad @sherlokid7 @doctorwhoandrory

You were locked up in your room, trying to find your way around the piles of papers that were scattered all over your room. You were panicking from all the work you had to do; two days weren’t enough to get all the work done. You grabbed a few papers in hand and your eyes scanned the small words printed in it.

You felt like throwing up, you were stressed. You had a lot on your mind; school was taking its toll on you. It was like someone threw you in a black hole and as you tried to claw your way out of it, you were sucked back in, deeper.

You didn’t talk to people about your problems and you rarely wrote in your diary. You felt like a complete mess. But there was a very old friend of yours, that although he was very different from you, he found ways to make you smile and help you out. Erik Lehnsherr.


There was a knock on the door. You let out a heavy sigh and dropped the papers that were in your hands back on the floor. You walked down the corridor and opened the door. “Erik.” You whispered. You hadn’t seen him in months. His eyes widened as he saw you; you had purple bags under your eyes from the fact that you barely slept to get all the work done and your hair was a mess. Your skin seemed that it lost its colour and your clothes were all wrinkled and had stains from the coffee you ingested for the last few months.

“Y/N.” Erik put his hands on either side of your arms, his eyes trying to get in contact with yours. “What happened?” You couldn’t speak as if someone was holding your tongue. Erik closed the door behind him and picked up gently bridal style, carrying you in your room. He stopped at the door frame as he saw a landfill of paper. “I’m going to put you on the couch, okay?” He whispered as he pressed you gently to his torso. 

You simply nodded. You had never been this close to Erik. You liked Erik and he liked you but he was afraid of using his powers when you’re around especially after what had happened to Charles. Another reason why Erik was scared was because he thought of himself a killer.

“Here you go sweetheart.” He said as he gently laid you down on the comfortable sofa. Erik took a blanket off the couch and covered you with it. “Rest.” He caressed your forehead with his thumb. You felt all fuzzy inside, a feeling that you’ve longed to feel, especially from Erik. I mean look at the guy, he’s hot.

Erik sat on the other side of the sofa, switching on the TV, watching a movie. You sneaked a peak at him, his blue eyes shining from the light coming from the TV and a smile playing around his lips when something funny happened. You quickly looked away when you saw Erik looking at you. The couch shifted towards you. Erik slid between you and the couch. Now, your head was resting on Erik’s chest, listening to his heart beating slowly. HIs strong arms wrapped around your body, pressing you closer to him as you both shared each other’s warmth.

“What’s been stressing you Y/N?” He asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

“Homework, assignments…” You broke into tears. “I can’t do it all Erik. I barely get any sleep and I barely eat now.” Erik cradled you in his arms as you sobbed on his chest. “Shh…It’s okay Y/N. It’s okay.” Your tears stained Erik’s grey shirt.

After you calmed down from the tears, Erik spoke once more. “Why don’t you come with me? Charles can help you with the subjects. There are so many professors there.”

“But I’m not like you. I can’t control -” You looked up to Erik and instantly his lips crashed onto yours. It felt amazing; his hands roamed around your back, pulling you closer to him. It felt like a dream; his lips massaging yours. He slowly released, never breaking eye contact. “You are exactly like me Y/N. So what do you say? You’re coming?”

Originally posted by fassy-stuff

Set Him Free

He entered his room through the fuzzy door, like he does every once in a while. He dragged his feet on the floor until it was warm enough and then pulled on the string to make his bed float down from the ceiling. His hair was orange and unkempt, and kept changing lengths whenever he looked at it. He tried avoiding looking at it too much, he liked this current length. He jumped down from the floor onto the bed above it.

As he sunk down into the fiery sheets, he wondered how long he’s been in this dream. It must’ve been at least a year in the real world. For him it didn’t seem that long, and at the same it seemed much longer. That’s what it’s like in a dream, after all. The last 2 hours he spent out on the dream town probably took less than a minute in real life. But the lost few days of his dream life were probably several months out there.

He looked up at the stars whose light phased through his colorless ceiling. Sometime, if he’s been staring long enough, the illusion will return, and he’ll forget he’s in a dream. He liked it when it happened, it gave him the freedom to pursue the purpose the dream gave him. Whether it was a soundwave pirate or an instructor to girls wearing amorphous blocks of water. Of course, everybody needs a day off from time to time, even when your job is fake and nonsensical. That’s when he regained awareness and just messed around.

He already went on a date with every character in his dreamworld, from dreamlike versions of his real friends to dreamlike nonexistent people who the dream convinced him were his friends (sometimes he couldn’t tell the difference between the two). He even went to a big concert with all of them this one time. Everybody else were enjoying the melancholy music of a nonexistent singer but he couldn’t help but stare at the singer and wonder what parts of his mind this musical sensation came from. This made him stand out, and everybody in the concert were staring at him.

When stuff like that happened, he would remember that it’s all fake. There was nobody there but him. It’s just him there alone with his thoughts and everybody around him were of his own creation.

He got off the bed and walked down the street which stretched down the mountain in his bedroom. In the end of the street he saw the repeating blue houses he couldn’t enter, no matter if he was aware of the dream or not. He wondered what was in them. He presumed it was just decoration, a set dressing his mind created without any actual substance in them. Just like he couldn’t visit the planets in the sky or the islands floating near the horizon.

Then in the corner of his mind he saw her again. She was smiling at him, but she looked worried. She stepped towards him and got closer across the town to him. He shut her off, pacing past her into the ocean at the edge of town. Inside the depths he wouldn’t have to think about her. She called out to him, her voice echoing through the water. He couldn’t hear her of course. There were no words in his dream, only thoughts and ideas. This made dating very hard, but not impossible.

Why did he avoid her? He didn’t know, she was the enemy. A figment of his imagination he created to be his rival. Like the monster under the house or the mafia from his crime fighting dream. They were opponents he had to face in order to fulfil the purpose the dream gave him. But she was different. She was his enemy regardless of if he was entranced in the dream or aware of it. Why did she stalk him? Why did she want to reach him so hard she’d break the rules of the dream to get him?

He looked around, the water was clear again. He was on the inside of the aquarium, and above him through the glass she was there. She pushed her hand through the glass to grab at him. He felt the taste of blood in his mouth and he sank down into the water.

Why did she want him so bad? And why wasn’t she there for him when he decided to take the people of the dream world to the concert? And why was he questioning everything?

He never questioned things in the dream. The only things he ever questioned were her and the blue houses.

He continued sinking. The aquarium around him was transformed into an ocean, which turned into an ocean of computer data, and then finally an ocean of questions. The ideas were screaming at him. Her ideas. Her thoughts. She was calling to him. Her thoughts were louder than his. It never happened before. He was always in control. Even if he relinquished control, it was always just him there, alone. Nobody was there except him. He couldn’t accept this.

The dream couldn’t accept this.

But the dream wasn’t in charge anymore. She was.

He returned to the blue houses. He tried to escape them, he knew now they were evil. But he couldn’t figure out their true nature. Those weren’t his thoughts. Those were hers. But that was impossible. How could she have taken his thoughts?

He walked down the streets through the fiery lakes and fiery hellscapes, but they were phased out back into the houses. He tried running through the meadow he hated, but the flowers were blue, and they were the houses again. He tried manifesting means of escape, but he had none. Only blue. Only the houses. Something in his mind wasn’t his own. And it was her.

He sat down, pondering things. His thoughts came into view. It felt like seeing for the first time after centuries of being blind. He could tell the texture of the ground, he could feel the breeze of the air. He could discern right from wrong.

He walked forward towards the blue house. It was big and imposing. It was like cage crawling through the night sky around him. But as he opened the door, the cage phased away.

He saw her inside. He saw himself with her. He saw himself like he’s never seen himself before. Happy. They were talking. They were discussing an idea. An idea so strong he couldn’t escape it. No matter on how many dates he went on. He didn’t want to escape it.

Of course, that’s how she got access to his thoughts. He gave them to her, when he gave his heart to her. Later that day they were already looking up avenues online.

The blue house crumbled around him, and he fell again. This time he didn’t fall inward, he fell outward. Out of the dream.

He landed on his bed again, but it felt different. And at the same time, very familiar. It took him a long time to realize it was because it really was his bed, in his actual room. The sky wasn’t viewable through his ceiling, and sheets were made of fabric and not fire.

He looked at his fiancee. She was looking at him, smiling. Her blue eyes were shining in the morning light.

“Had a bad dream, sweetheart?” he heard her voice.