#HE JUST WANTS KIDDOS TO BE SAFE

[vigilantejustice]

we’re no contact so it’s like. whatever but will admit there’s a complicated feeling coming up about my stepsister (only in the most technical sense) wishing my dad a happy father’s day + him being like “thanks kiddo” about it

[dabideserveslove]

Okay I don't post often about my personal life (except my rambling in the tags but I even keep that vague most of the time) but y'all, I am scared.

It slipped my mind to request an absentee ballot so I am going to have to go vote in person as a clearly queer pregnant trans man and I... I'm terrified. There's been sirens going off almost constantly all day and while the place I live usually isn't too terrible in terms of blatant homophobia & transphobia, election days bring the worst out in people.

I want to vote. I know I have to. But I am so scared.

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just��� I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[jasmines-library]

Hey! i just wanted to say that your work is phenomenal! You got me sobbing in bed at 3 in the morning. I was wondering if I could request a Batfam x child!Wayne!Reader (maybe 4/5 years old) and what they’re all like (individually) when picking her up from school? In her class, they were learning about the great Batman, and all the hard work he does for the city, keeping everybody safe and whatnot. And obviously, she’s too small to know Bruce is Batman.. how would they all react to little baby Wayne rambling about cool Batman who has his own car and sidekick? I’d imagine she’s a very talkative kid, very sweet and friendly, and a very big-Daddy’s girl, but it’s completely up to you.

Thanks for listening to my rambling.. and keep up your awesome work!

Baby Wayne

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: This is one of the most adorable requests ever anon! Thank you for requesting and thank you for your kind words. I hope I’ve done your request justice.

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧ PT2

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BRUCE:

He could see the smile on your face from the doorway. Bright and beaming as you sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning forward to listen to your teacher. The second you saw him lingering in the doorframe however, the smile grew and you were up on your feet in seconds and tottering over to him.

Wrapping your arms around his legs you hugged him tightly and looked up at him with big eyes. Picking you up and resting you on his hip, Bruce pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Hey sweetheart. Good day?”

You nodded excitedly, clinging to your dad. “We learnt about Batman today!” You exclaimed.

Bruce couldn’t help the small smirk that crept onto his face. You were still too young to know about his identity and he did well to keep it from you. You were always exploring and wondering off in the manor. He was sure you would make a fine vigilante one day, but for now he was keep to keep you sheltered.

“Oh really?” He raised a brow.

“Yep!” You said, popping the ‘p’. “He’s awesome! He has a cool car and side kicks! And he keeps the city safe! He’s super cool.”

Bruce bounced you up in his arms, savouring the joy in your voice. “Is that so?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded. “When I grow up I wanna be just like him Daddy!”

“I’m sure you will be kiddo.” Bruce smiled. “I’m sure you will.”

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DICK:

He was waiting by the school gates, leaning up against the metal framing when your class came piling out of the doors. Bruce was out on a meeting, so he was tasked with collecting you from school, which of course he had no problem doing.

When you saw him, he made his way over slowly, watching as your face lit up at the sight of him and you came running over him with your bag hanging halfway off one shoulder.

“Dick look!” You beamed crashing into him as you ran a little too fast. Moving away you pointed to the yellow and black sticker you had plastered to the hem of the coat.

Dick crouched down to your height. “What you got there, squirt?”

“It’s the bat signal.” You announced proudly. “We learnt about it in class today.”

“You learnt about Batman?” Dick asked. He had wondered how long it would be until you began to learn about what they did.

“Yes we learnt about all of the heroes. But Batman is my favourite because he saves the city and he has a sidekick!” You grinned “Robin! I like him too.”

Dick hid his little grin by tussling your hair. He couldn’t wait for you to learn more.

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JASON:

Seeing Jason picking you up was a nice surprise for you when you finished class. You were ecstatic to see him and ran up to him squealing.

“Jay!” You giggled and he picked up and spun you around in the air. “I missed you.”

He had been away on business. You had constantly been asking Bruce about when you would see him again. You had began to miss his face at home.

“Guess what we’ve been learning about!?”

“Hmm.” Jason bit his lip pretending to think “pirate ballerinas”

You placed a playful hit to his chest with a laugh. “No silly. Batman!”

A-ha. Jason thought. this would be interesting. He wondered how much you had been told, though he doubted no matter how much you had learnt, that you had managed to piece things together.

“Was it good?” He asked you.

“It was great! He saves all of the people and is a real hero!” You said waving your arms animatedly. “He’s so brave!”

“He is.” Jason agreed. “Just like you little Wayne”

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TIM:

Tim found you doodling at one of the tables in the library. You had an array of colours sprawled out in front of you as you scribbled on the pieces of paper infront of you.

He peered over your shoulder trying to catch a glimpse of your drawing. You had draw stick figures, which made it hard to go by but even with your messy doodles he could make out the distinctive domino masks of the Robin and the black of Batman’s suit and cowl. He knew them like the back of his hand, so it was no surprise.

“What you drawing, kiddo?” He asked you.

You gripped the drawing with your hands and held it up proudly to him. “Batman and Robin. We learnt about them in class so I wanted to draw them.”

“It’s very good kid.” Tim told you, handing you back the drawing of the lopsided people only for you to hand it back to him.

“Can we put it on the fridge?” You asked curiously “I want to show it to Dad. I bet he thinks Batman is awesome too!” You blabbed “do you think he will like it, Timmy?”

“I’m sure he will.”

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DAMIAN:

Dami was reading in the library when you plonked yourself beside him. Well…kind of. You struggled up onto the couch first.

“What are you doing?” You frowned, trying to read see over his shoulder.

He was reading up on one of Gotham’s villains that was causing havoc in the city. His first instinct was to shut it so you couldn’t read any of it…but then he remembered that you were still only learning to read.

“I’m reading a book on Batman.” He half-lied, setting the book to one side so you could clamber into his lap.

“Ooh I like Batman too.” You nodded.

Damian frowned. You weren’t supposed to know about that yet. “Where did you learn about him?”

“At school.”

Damian relaxed a little.

“He has a super cool cape! And a big car that he drives really fast around the city to stop the bad guys!”

“Sounds dangerous.” Damian smirked.

“Yes…” you trailed off. “But he is allowed to do it because he is Batman.” You decided.

“Is that right? He teased.

“Yes.

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I hope that was okay! I hope you don’t mind that I changed it a little at the end: I didn’t want it to get too repetitive.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao

[daisyblog]

Personal Bodyguard

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN gets hurts by paparazzi and Harry becomes protective.

warning: mentions of blood, YN gets hurt, angst

based on this request.

One Direction were currently touring America as part of their Take Me Home tour. They had become familiar with fans and paparazzi waiting for any sign of one them the boys leaving the hotel or arena, which meant it was routine how they, and their crew left the buildings.

The five boys would be escorted by their security to the car, and majority of the time the fans and paparazzi would slowly lose interest once the band had disappeared behind the car doors.

But on this occasion, the paparazzi were willing to go the extra step and begin to question anyone associated with the band. Being Lou’s assistant on the tour, Louis’ sister and Harry’s girlfriend meant YN was their target.

YN watched as the boys were escorted by their security to the several cars that waited outside their hotel to drive them to thr venue. The order remained the same, Zayn, Niall, Liam, Louis and Harry. The crew were quick to follow, but today YN was overwhelmed by the questions being fired at her.

“YN, is it true you’re pregnant?”

“Is Harry paying you to be on tour?”

“YN! YN! YN!”

The questions being shouted behind them caused Harry and Louis to quickly glance behind them. But they were hurried along to get to the cars faster.

“YN, what do you think about people saying you’re using Harry?”

YN walked behind Lou, reminding herself that they wanted a reaction and the quicker she walked the sooner she would be away from the pushing and cameras being in her face.

Just as the boys reached their car, Zayn, Niall and Liam were comfortable in their seats, they heard the hectic commotion.

The hard cover of the camera lens was quick to meet the skin on YN’s forehead. “OW!”. Quickly her hand whipped up to be met with the warm liquid.

Lou turned quickly behind her at the sound of pain coming from YN. She could see her holding a hand to her head and her fingers covered in red. Lou tried to push people away from YN. “Step away from her!”. But it was no use, cameras were still flashing and bodies were pushing and shoving.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!”. Harry’s voice appeared in front of them. His hands reaching for YN and pulling her body into his chest and holding her tight against him. “You’re okay babe, you’re safe…I’m here”. He gently spoke into YN’s ear as he tried to guide them to the car.

“Harry! Harry! Harry!”.

A camera appeared in Harry’s vision, but as quickly as it snapped a photo it was shoved away by Harry’s large hand. “CAN’T YOU SEE SHE’S HURT YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”. He could feel the anger build inside him. “JUST FUCK OFF OUT OF OUR WAY!”.

Paul intervened quickly, knowing Harry was one step away from causing more problems. He along with the other security made a path for the couple to walk through.

YN felt so much relief when she entered the van, finding herself in the seat next to her brother and Harry hot on her heels sitting in the chair next to her.

“Hey Kiddo…you alright?”. Louis’ voice was filled with concern as he saw his sister’s head full of read and Harry’s face filled with pure anger.

“STUPID FUCKING PAPS!”. Harry held a spare shirt he had in his bag to YN’s head, hoping it would help with the bleeding.

“Harry I’m alright…just stay calm”. YN pleaded knowing how angry he felt right now, she could see the pure hatred in his eyes.

Louis wrapped a protective arm around his sister’s shoulder. “They’re arseholes I know and they’re lucky it was you out there because I would have punched them square in the face…but YN’s right Harry…just stay calm…she’s safe here with us now”.

“You’re walking with us next time…I’m not having you get hurt again”.

---

Things had calmed down behind the scenes after the chaos that had been caused earlier on in the day. The boys had some free time backstage as they waited for the show to start.

Harry’s eyes hadn’t moved from YN, where she was peacefully sleeping on the sofa in the dressing room, her head now wearing a small plaster that the medic team had given her.

As much as Harry tried to forget about what had happened, he couldn’t and he blamed himself for not being by YN’s side the entire time.

“You better not be blaming yourself Harold”. Louis interrupted Harry’s inter battle he was having with himself.

Harry shrugged his shoulders as he muttered his reply with no tone. “Of course I am”.

Louis took a seat opposite where Harry was sitting, his eyes finding his sister tucked up unaware of their conversation. “I just wanted to say thank you”. Harry frowned in confusing at his words. “Thank you for protecting her…I used to worry about her on this tour, I still will, but…but watching you protect her like that today…I could see how much you care about her”.

“I’ll always protect her Lou…you haven’t got to worry about that”. Harry reinforced his promise as he quickly glanced back at YN.

As much as his words caused a stir in Louis heart at how in love the boy was with his sister, he quickly hid is teary eyes with a tad of teasing.

“You better had or you’ll have me to answer to”. Louis sent him a smirk as he left the room.

Tag List:

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Study

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: Doing schoolwork while the team is round is not a good idea

The sun patch you were lying in was delightful.

The noise around you, was not.

You opened your eyes blearily, narrowing them to slits in annoyance.

Lucy stared at you and then pointedly turned the tv up in volume, laughing at your disgruntled look.

"Turn it back down," You said.

"No."

"Lucy," You whined," Please turn it down."

"Sorry, kiddo," Keira said as she appeared," But the rest of the team are coming over soon and you've got an essay to write."

You groaned at the reminder but sat up. The whole reason you had taken a nap in the first place was to procrastinate about writing your essay.

"Keira..."

"No, y/n," She said," Part of the agreement we made with your parents was keeping your grades up. I won't make you sit at the kitchen table to write it while the team is round but you have to get it finished today."

You groaned again but relented, grabbing your laptop from where it was charging nearby and pulling up your plan.

Your teammates flooded in through the next hour.

Asisat tapped you on the head as she passed to get to the kitchen. "School work?"

You rolled your eyes. "What gave it away?"

She laughed. "The fact that you've been staring at the screen for nearly twenty minutes and haven't typed a thing."

You darted your eyes across the room to look at Keira, who clearly hadn't noticed. You sent an awkward smile Asisat's way. "Don't tell Keira?"

"Your secret's safe with me."

The more people that arrived, the less you wanted to write your essay. The whole apartment had filled up with noise and even if you wanted to start typing, you were much more interested in hearing Claudia talk about the date she went on with her girlfriend.

You start typing your introduction before deciding you really can't be bothered right now and switch to writing about how Mark Antony's relationship with Cleopatra was the worst thing he could have done from the perspective of other Romans.

You were mindlessly typing and deleting your work when Frido and Aitana joined you on the sofa.

"How is your studying?" Aitana's English was getting much better now that she came around routinely to learn from Keira while you were forced to sit at the table and do your science work.

You gave her a deadpan look. "Oh, just great."

Frido laughed at your sarcasm. "Anything we can help with?"

"Unless you understand the intricacies of Mark Antony and Octavian's war for power after Caesar's death, then no."

Frido pulled a face. "You're studying that?"

"In theory."

Marta and Caro joined a moment later with cans of lemonade and snacks. You snatched up a KitKat quickly, anything to distract you from your next paragraph about Octavian's slanderous propaganda against his rival.

"How is our little student faring?" Marta asked, peering at your screen where you had repeatedly typed out 'I hate this class so much, I wish I could drop out'.

"Not good by the looks of it," Caro said even though it was obvious," What even is this?"

"Ancient Roman politics," Frido replied," It looks very boring."

"It's interesting," You said," Until you have to start writing essays and decide which of these horrible men was better."

"Who is better?" Aitana asked.

"...Octavian, because he won," You replied," But not because he was a better person. This is Rome - if you're not a bad person then are you really an Ancient Roman politician?"

The little group around you burst into laughter and Marta ruffled your hair. "You'll get it finished," She said," You're a smart girl."

Team bonding happened around you for the evening as you mindlessly typed and typed and typed until you were finally finished with your essay.

You stretched out in delight and headed into the kitchen where a to-do list hung on the fridge.

Irene, Sandra and Mariona were already there, studying it curiously as you grabbed a pen from the top of the fridge (standing on your tiptoes to reach it) before you crossed off your Classical Civilisations essay.

"That's a lot of work," Mariona said," This is for the whole month?"

"This is for the week," You replied, taking in her shocked look at your words," But I'm nearly done." You crossed off the Physics homework you finished last night along with the Maths worksheet you got done before practice this morning.

"It gets this bad?" Irene asked," I worry about when Mateo starts school properly."

You frowned. "I'm pretty sure that Mateo getting homework will be doing a drawing rather than writing essays."

"Well, if it helps," Sandra cut in," At least you've finished your essay now! You're free!"

You shook your head and pointed to the only thing Lucy had contributed to your list.

FINISH YOUR FUCKING PSYCHOLOGY ESSAY

"It's about language development in infants," You said, opening the fridge and grabbing some more lemonade.

When you finally made your way back to the living room, your seat had been taken by some of the girls so you ended up sitting in front of the armchair that Ingrid and Mapi had taken refuge on.

Instantly, Ingrid's hands threaded through your hair, massaging your scalp before pulling strands out of your face and pulling them into an intricate braid.

Apart from ever so slightly making you move your head to different positions, you were left mostly alone as you typed away about more research studies using brain imaging.

Mapi shifted behind you and you could tell she was trying to read over your shoulder.

"Why do you need to learn this?" She asked.

"It's interesting," You replied," I thought about doing psychology at uni before Barca signed me. I just hate writing about it."

"It looks boring."

"It's not," You said. Ingrid tied off your new braid and you turned to look at Mapi with a wolfish smile. "Besides, is it boring for you because it hits too close to home? Since you're such a child?"

Mapi swatted at you jokingly, lightly kicking you in the back until you shifted away from her with your laptop.

You refuge came in the form of the pile on the floor in front of the tv. Bruna and Jana welcomed you into the group instantly and you found yourself sandwiched between Ona and Esmee, who were viciously going against each other in FIFA.

"Is your essay finished?" Esmee asked," Keira told me not to text you after practice because you were writing your essay."

"Nearly," You replied," I've just got one more paragraph and then the conclusion. Ona's about to score, by the way."

With your words, Esmee just managed to block the shot as Ona shoved you in annoyance.

Jana and Bruna broke into laughter and peered over your shoulder.

"You used the wrong word," Jana said, pointing to where you had been writing about Piaget.

"It's kind of embarrassing that you're correcting me on my own native language," You said to her even as you corrected yourself.

"Learn Spanish," Bruna said," She makes a lot of mistakes in that."

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do!"

"You so do," Ona said," And y/n, you've got your tenses wrong."

You hadn't even noticed that the match had ended and that Ona was studying your essay until she spoke. Esmee looked over it as well, pointing at another grammar mistake.

You slapped their hands away and pointed to each of you. "Stop it! It'll get spellchecked at the end! You're ruining my creative process!"

"What creative process?" Jana laughed," You're writing an essay!"

"I hate you!" You declared with a laugh," Each and every one of you!" You pointed at them each in turn.

"Don't lie!" Bruna said," You love us."

You bat your eyelashes at her. "Write my essay and you'll have my undying love!"

"No chance!"

You finished your essay soon after without any of their help (although you would be the first to admit that your conclusion wasn't exactly the best) and hurried to cross it off the list, snatching it off the fridge. You sought out Keira in a group of the older girls. You showed her the list.

"I'm done!"

She took it from you, looking it over sceptically.

"And your psychology essay?"

"Yes!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Keira, promise!"

"She promises, Keira!" Patri mocked your tone with a smile as Claudia and Gemma laughed.

You were one second away from stamping your foot but you refrained because you would never live down the 'little kid' allegations from your teammates if you did so.

"Look at this face!" Gemma said, cupping your cheeks," How could you be mean to this one?"

Keira had a contemplative look on her face.

"Come on, Keira," Claudia said," It's the weekend. We have a match in two days. She's been doing her work since we arrived. Let her have this."

"She could have had it finished before you all arrived if she hadn't taken a nap after practice."

"She's a growing girl!" Patri declared," She needs her nap so she can be big and strong like me when she grows up!"

An arm was thrown over your shoulder and you bit back your retort that the world couldn't handle two versions of Patri.

"Oh...fine, then. y/n go let Narla out of your room and then you're free for the rest of the day."

"Yes!" You pumped your fist into the air and hurried off.

Narla had been shut into your room the moment you came home after Keira watched you play with the little dog instead of doing your homework so she seemed very happy to be free, leaping into your arms like a little princess and making you walk her into the living room.

Salma and Cata intercepted you on the way, cooing over Narla like they had never met her before even though they had.

"It's strange to see you without your laptop," Cata said to you as she tickled under Narla's chin," I thought that it was surgically attached to you or something."

You would have shoved her if you had access to your hands but you didn't so settled for an unimpressed eyeroll. "Ha, ha, very funny. Make fun of my massive workload. I don't see you studying while playing football!"

"You know," Salma said and you already knew she was going to say something to tease you," When I was your age, I didn't have to worry about deadlines because I just did my work the day it got set."

You scoffed. "You're only three years older than me!" You stuck your tongue out at her. "If you want to write my essays for me, Salma, you should have just asked."

Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "That sounds like hell on earth."

You laughed all the way back to the living room, placing Narla on the floor and grabbing some snacks from the table when nobody was looking. You ended up on the floor for the most part, sat by Lucy's chair as the older woman sat above you, occasionally reaching down to feed you chocolate when she was sure Keira wasn't looking. But as it got later in the evening, you ended up migrating onto the sofa with Alexia.

"I heard you finished all your schoolwork for the week," She said as you lazed against her side, watching whatever Spanish soap opera Patri had forced onto the tv.

"Uh-huh." You were only half listening as you dozed off. Her nails scratched lightly at your scalp and the blanket that had been thrown over the pair of you made you feel all cosy and warm.

"Well done, y/n. I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you," You slurred slightly, head dropping to her shoulder as your vision got blurrier and blurrier.

"Are you tired, bebita?"

"No..."

Her chuckle jolted her body slightly but it was a little like the vibrations from being in a car so your eyes just drooped lower. "I think you are."

"Not...Not tired."

"You are. I think all that studying took it out of you."

"No..." You whined slightly and Alexia pulled you in a bit tighter. She manipulated your body in some way you didn't realise because you blinked and suddenly you were lying stretched out with your head in her lap. "I'm...I'm not tired."

You had already missed out on team bonding because of your studying. You didn't want to miss out on any more.

"You are very tired." Alexia's tone was firm but still somehow soothing and her nails drew patterns on your arm comfortingly. "You just need a little nap."

You tried to protest but Alexia's voice just got a bit firmer and a bit more like her captain voice so you knew that you couldn't argue back.

"Come on, bebita. It's nap time for good students like you. I'll wake you up when the food gets here."

[never-quite-buried]

I really hate child abusers in a special extra way lately.

Like i was talking about my mom friday at work cause i had plans to go watch a movie with her after work and my son turns to a coworker and goes “yeah she actually likes her mom, i dont get it. My mom’s a fucking bitch.” And yeah, his mom is super fucking abusive and i dislike Both of his parents.

But i had to turn to him and be like “homes i know your mom is terrible and im sorry but just because your mom is awful does not mean that all moms are awful and i’d kindly ask you to allow me to express my loving feelings towards my mom without interjections.”

Like if you are so fucking awful to your children that they cant imagine a reality where parents are kind and affectionate then idk how to fucking help you.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 23 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was bruised, hungry and worn out, but as soon as he was with you again, nothing else mattered. You welcomed him home with so much love, like nobody else ever had before or ever would again.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language, smut, very hands-on Bradley, 18+

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

You were already at work, trying your best to teach your math class with your phone gripped in your hand, when Bradley texted to let you know he was boarding a flight that would land in San Diego just before six o'clock. Tears stung your eyes as you scribbled some problems on the board for your kids to work on while you walked briskly to the back of the room to write back.

I'll be there to pick you up! I can't wait!

Truthfully, you didn't know if you could have gone another day without hearing from him. Your heart felt full now after the brief conversation you had. He was safely back on dry land! He was coming back to San Diego! He missed you as much as you missed him! 

It was Valentine's Day, and more importantly, Career Day was later this week on Friday. You couldn't contain your excitement, especially when he wrote back with his flight number along with a short message

I'll see you in a few hours, Gorgeous. Tell your kiddos I'll see them in a few days.

You watched as your students wrote down some final answers, then you checked them together while butterflies soared around in your belly. You couldn't hold it back any longer after that. You felt flustered as you placed your hand on your forehead and said, "Lieutenant Bradshaw wanted me to tell you that he'll be here on Friday for Career Day."

Jayden jumped out of his chair as Oliver pumped his fists in the air. "Can we work on another list of questions for him?" Nia asked as Violet clapped in excitement.

Since that very first package you sent, he had been making this school year even better than you ever expected. "Yes. We can work on more questions for him. Some of our other friends from the Navy will be joining us as well."

"Who?" asked Jackie, eyes wide behind her glasses.

"I guess you'll find out on Friday. Now who wants to write our list of questions?"

When you left your school that afternoon, traffic back to Coronado was heavy, but you didn't mind one bit. You couldn't stop smiling as you made a phone call, ready to beg if needed to so you could get what you wanted. Then you changed into the dress Natasha helped you pick out. It was tight and black with long sleeves and a short hem. And suddenly it was time to pick Bradley up.

You were giddy as you stood on the driveway, unsure if you should take your car or his Bronco. Ultimately you decided to take his so he'd have a chance to drive it if he wanted to. Unless he was exhausted. If he was too tired, you would have no problem driving it back so he could rest. Then you started to feel like maybe you shouldn't have made the dinner reservation. He probably wasn't going to want to go out to eat two hours after getting home from deployment. 

How many times had he told you that he liked the way you didn't mind when he wanted to just relax on the couch and unwind? You groaned as you got in the Bronco and started the engine. When you got to the airport, you'd call and cancel it. Taking him home to a long, hot shower was a better option. Plus you already stocked the refrigerator with so much food, he could eat whatever he wanted for the next week.

There was a ton of traffic getting into the airport short-term parking lot, and you were just pulling into a spot when Bradley texted you to let you know his flight landed early. "Oh, shit," you muttered, heart hammering into overdrive as you pulled the key from the ignition and straightened your dress as you climbed out of the Bronco. 

You rushed through the throngs of people as quickly as you could, looking for the correct baggage claim number. When you located it, you spun around looking for him, but you heard his voice before you saw him.

"Gorgeous!"

So many people were looking at your boyfriend with his booming voice and khaki uniform, but he was staring right at you with a bright smile on his face. You were off and running for his arms, and he scooped you up against him, feet lifting from the floor.

"Bradley," you moaned, and his lips crashed against yours. His heart was thudding against your chest as you tasted his mouth and grabbed at his hair. Everything about him was so familiar, and it seemed like it had been forever since you got to touch him. 

His mustache was rough against your lips and then your cheek and ear. His voice was deep and sweet as his lips skimmed your earlobe when he whispered, "I love you."

Then his lips found yours again as you clung to him. This is what you'd missed so much. Just simply knowing he adored you by the way he kissed you. Any doubts you had while he was gone started to ease away. Big hands held you in place as you broke the kiss to say, "I missed you," voice coming out like a sob.

His brown eyes were soft as he smiled at you. "I couldn't go another minute without you, Gorgeous. I was miserable."

"Me, too," you whispered, kissing him once more as your feet touched the ground again. But you still felt lighter than air as his adoring gaze stayed fixed on your face when you said, "That box of notes you sent me was so romantic, Bradley, but nothing compares to the real thing." 

You dragged your thumb along his scars, body still pressed against his. He grunted as his hand slid down your back to your butt. "Let's go home. So I can give you the real thing." Your cheeks were blazing with heat as you buried your face against his chest. "I wrote you so many notes, Baby. They're in my duffle, just waiting for you to read them, but you'll notice a theme. I missed you like crazy. And all I want to do for the foreseeable future is eat food that doesn't suck, sleep in my own bed, and fuck my girlfriend."

"Bradley," you laughed, letting him walk you backwards so he could pick up his duffle bag. You had one hand around his neck and one on his firm abs as you whispered, "Let's go home."

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

It was indescribable how much better Bradley felt as soon as he saw you inside the airport. And now he couldn't stop touching you. Your voice eased the tension out of his body like nothing else could, and your skin was silky soft beneath his fingers. He had one hand on the wheel of his Bronco and one tucked up inside your dress, resting on your thigh while he drove. 

It was Valentine's Day, and he showed up empty handed which just felt wrong. He would try to make it up to you all week and all month. He'd make it up to you in the form of an engagement ring. How could he not? The deployment without communication was the most miserable he'd been since his mom died. Probably because he hadn't felt so loved since then.

"I reached for my phone so many times to call you before I remembered I couldn't," you said softly, running your fingers up his forearm and back down. "It broke my heart a little bit each time."

"God, Gorgeous," he moaned, squeezing your thigh as he drove into the sunset toward Coronado. He had an actual partner who was invested in him, and he wasn't about to give this up. "It killed me to go so long without hearing your voice. Keep talking. Please."

Your laughter filled the space as he sped up a little bit. "I have all of the letters from the box stacked up in the kitchen. I read them over and over again. And I moved all of my things into your house."

"Our house."

"Our house," you repeated, and he fell in love with the words even more. "I was too afraid to unpack all of it in case you told me Norfolk was going to be your permanent station, but maybe you can help me with that this week while I feed you everything in the refrigerator. Oh, and I made a reservation for Salvatore's for later tonight, but we can cancel it since you're probably exhausted."

Bradley parked in the driveway, yanking the keys from the ignition while you unbuckled your seatbelt. He took your chin in his hand, and you came willingly across the seat so he was kissing you again, rougher this time than in the airport. 

"Are you telling me there's a chance I get to fuck you and then eat ravioli?"

You whimpered as you crawled onto his lap, that little dress leaving nothing to the imagination as it bunched up to your hips. "If that's what you want," you whispered, looking like everything he would ever need. 

His cock throbbed as your body rubbed against his. "That's what I want," he grunted as you sucked on his neck. "I want you to be my Valentine. I want to show you how much I missed you. Then I want us to go out to dinner."

He opened the door and carried you toward the house, not stopping until he had you in the bedroom, fading rays of sunlight filling the space. Bradley watched you pull your dress over your head, revealing that little black bra and panty set you wore for him at Christmas. You kicked off your shoes, and he got to watch you crawl across the bed before yanking off his own boots and following you.

"Bradley," you giggled once he had you on your back, pinned beneath him.

"Say it again. I need to hear you say it again."

You guided your legs apart, letting him rest against your core as his lips skimmed along your jaw. Your voice was soft and perfect as you said his name. "Bradley. Show me how much you missed me."

He could feel your hands on his belt, the buckle clinking softly as you slid it open. You got his zipper open as he continued to run his lips along your soft skin, pausing to lick and taste you, making you moan for him. Your hand was too small to wrap around his cock, but you tugged him free from his underwear and gave him a squeeze that left him seeing stars.

"Baby," he whined, bucking against your palm as you slid your lace thong to the side and treated him to your welcoming pussy.

"It feels like you missed me a lot," you gasped, eyes going wide as he pushed himself into your perfect body.

He could only groan in response until he was fully seated, forehead resting on your shoulder. "It felt like hell being away from you. Can't live without my Gorgeous pen pal."

Bradley eased his hips back, listening to you whimper before he pushed himself deep again. His neck and shoulders were sore, and his bruises were tender beneath your eager fingers, but he didn't stop you from touching him everywhere. He needed you to. He'd been craving all of this for almost two months. You welcomed him back home with your kisses, fingers in his hair as he fell even more in love with the way you loved him. You whispered his name as he fucked you until you were shaking, and you let him fill you with his cum. 

"Gorgeous," was all he could mutter as he was sprawled halfway on top of you, still buried deep as your pussy pulsed gently around him. 

Your fingers trailed through his hair and down his neck as you whispered, "Let's take a shower together." He would have followed you anywhere you wanted to go, but a hot shower with your hands all over him sounded so good, he pulled himself free from your body and started to finally undress.

As his uniform shirt fell to the floor, you sat up in bed. When his undershirt was discarded as well, you gasped.

"What's the matter?" he asked as you got to your feet and ran your hand along his shoulder.

"You're bruised!"

"I'm fine," he muttered quickly, but you were already inspecting every inch of him.

"What happened?" you asked, voice sharp. "And why didn't you tell me about this right away? Before I started grabbing you."

He took your hands in his and kissed your fingertips. "I really am fine, Gorgeous. A doctor checked me out this morning. I just had a rough landing a few days ago."

"Why didn't you say something?"

Your words sounded sharp, but they felt so soft when he let his mind absorb them. "Because the only thing that's going to make me feel better is your body all over mine and your voice saying my name."

You bit your lip and very gingerly draped your arms around his neck. "Oh, Bradley. I'm going to spoil you for the rest of the week."

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

Bradley yawned when he kept you tucked against his bruised chest in the shower, but he was resolute in saying he wanted to go out for dinner.

"We don't have to," you reassured him, placing kiss after soft kiss to his collar bones as you washed his hair for him. "You've been through so much."

"I want to eat real food with my beautiful girlfriend on Valentine's Day," he insisted. "And I promise you, this is the best I've felt since Christmas. Because I'm with you. Besides, you should have seen the shit they served for meals on that aircraft carrier. It was criminal, Baby." His musings were punctuated by his loudly growling stomach as he ran his hand up and down your back.

Truthfully, he did look a little thinner to you, which was awful considering how much he was used to eating. You just wanted to take care of him right now, and he clearly needed a solid meal and some sleep. So you helped him dry off and led him back to the bedroom with his hand wrapped around yours.

"Since you promised to spoil me... will you put that black dress back on again?" he whispered next to your ear, making you shiver.

"I could do that for you." Bradley picked it up off the floor with a smile, and you took it from him as you said, "But you made a mess of my underwear, so I'll have to skip it."

He made a deep sound at the back of his throat that had you excited to go to Salvatore's all over again. You helped him dress in a button down shirt and some black pants, careful about how you touched his bruises, and then the two of you were off. On the drive to the restaurant, his hand seemed to be glued to your thigh once again, but you didn't mind. It felt like you'd gone a year without him, and this was just your reward, getting to listen to him tell you all about how Admiral Simpson showed up in Norfolk and about how lonely he was on the carrier.

"I'm not doing that again," he murmured, parallel parking with one hand. He smiled at you as he checked his blind spot. "I'll just retire from the Navy before I spend that amount of time without my pen pals ever again."

You kissed him as he shifted into park. "You might have a career as a smut writer. I read that one note you left for me, and it was hot."

"Oh yeah?" he crooned, dark eyes sparking with mischief as his hand tightened on your leg. "You liked that one?"

Instead of a verbal response, you just guided his hand up a few inches further until his fingers grazed your bare pussy, and then you climbed out onto the sidewalk like it was nothing. Bradley was right behind you in an instant as you strolled inside Salvatore's as if you hadn't a care in the world, meanwhile your heart was pounding at the way his hand wrapped around you as the host greeted you both.

"Please enjoy the lounge for a few minutes, and I'll find you when your table is ready," he said smoothly while Bradley kissed the side of your neck with his body pressed against yours like the two of you were all alone.

"Let's go," you whispered, voice shaking a bit as you wiggled out of his grasp and headed for the bar. But the room was crowded, and he ended up right where he had been a second ago, leaving you a little dizzy as his hand settled low on your belly.

"You're gonna tease me for the rest of the night then?" he asked, broad chest rumbling against your shoulders and the top of your back.

"Maybe," you replied, trying to play coy even though you wanted nothing more than to feel him touching you just how he was right now.

He kissed the spot behind your ear, and your whole body clenched with need as he asked, "Let's get that expensive as hell wine again." Before you could stop him, he was signaling for the bartender and asking for the bottle by name. "It's my girlfriend's favorite," he said with a chuckle as he magically procured his credit card and handed it over.

You and he drank half the bottle right there in the lounge before the table was ready, and then you finished it in the dining room. It was Valentine's Day, sure, but this restaurant already held memories for you, and this was just adding to it. It was the same wine as last time, but you'd fallen even more in love with this man since then. Your feet were tangled with his under the table while you shared several pasta dishes, and you were so happy he was no longer self conscious about how much he ate around you. He touched you freely, reaching for your hand or letting his palm rest on your leg, and he kissed you sporadically as the meal progressed, knowing you wanted him to.

"I love you so much," you blurted out in the middle of telling him a story about how your class got locked out of the school after a fire drill. "And I'm happy you're home. And I don't want to ever do that again."

Bradley finished chewing his pasta before saying, "Well now you're just teasing me in a different way."

"I am?"

He nodded and set down his fork, signaling for the waiter. Bradley asked for the check and some containers to take the rest of the food home. Then he looked at you and asked, "How do you turn me on and make my heart melt at the same time, Gorgeous?"

The butterflies were back again. "You do it to me, too." You watched him pay the check like it was nothing, and he handed you the takeout containers. "Did you eat enough?" you asked as he led you toward the door and back to the Bronco with one hand resting on your hip and your body tucked against his.

"I can eat more later if I need to. Thank you for making the dinner reservation. It was perfect. But right now, I just want to be alone with you."

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

"Oh, god," Bradley groaned, getting to feel your body gripping him for the second time tonight. It was so late now, but he was full of wine and red sauce and still riding high on the excitement of being back home with you. He felt so loved up and emotional as he held you in front of him in bed and thrust slowly in and out of your pussy as you moaned. He missed being your big spoon.

"I can't wait until you read all the notes I wrote for you, Baby," he whispered, lips brushing the side of your neck as his fingers dug into your flesh. 

"I'll take some of them to work tomorrow," you gasped. Bradley didn't even feel bad for keeping you up past your bedtime as he nipped along your skin and fucked you slowly, just like he promised he would in that dirty note he put in the box. He was savoring you now; he planned on having you a dozen times just like this, all week long.

He slid his hand down to your clit and licked your ear. "I'll pack your lunch and drive you to work and get you coffee every day this week. I'm using vacation time to take care of some things." He wasn't about to tell you what those things were. But you were coming undone at his touch, so there was a chance he could tell you anything at the moment, and you wouldn't even remember. "You gonna cum for me?" he crooned, a smile curling along his lips as you arched your back and whined. "Good girl."

It didn't take long before he was following your lead, and after that it wasn't long before he was falling asleep with his body wrapped around yours, right where he belonged. "I love you."

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

I need them to be cuddly and snuggly and together forever. We've got a few more chapters left of these lovebirds. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 25

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[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Nightmares

Satoru fluff, NO NSFW, cute little drabble of satoru being a teen dad to kid!megumi

Single teen dad!Satoru who has no idea about how kids work. He never expected to hold the sole responsibility of a child at 17. He acted before he could thoroughly think it through. All he knew was that Megumi deserved a childhood, a proper childhood — not one that the Zenin clan would provide to him.

Single teen dad!Satoru who rarely sleeps anymore after the events with Suguru and the star plasma vessel. Anytime he slept, he was plagued with the most gruesome nightmares. He spends his evenings putting Megumi to bed (the kid practically put himself to bed). Then, he’d stay up late working on homework and mastering his infinity technique.

Single teen dad!Satoru who is well aware of how independent Megumi is. Megumi never had a parental figure to rely on when he was younger. He had completely learned to care for himself with the help of his sister. Hell, Satoru was certain that Megumi could probably teach himself how to do taxes.

That’s why when single teen dad!Satoru saw little Megumi walk into the common area late at night with a puffy red face from crying, he knew something was up.

“Hey Buddy.” Satoru’s voice was gentle and quiet as he was sitting on the couch, rereading the same paragraph over and over again for class. “You need somethin’?��

Megumi wiped his eyes and looked over at Satoru. “Can I have a glass of milk?” He asked in such a small raspy voice. The way he asked for a cup of milk while his little fingers were twirling through his hair pulled on Satoru’s heartstrings. The teenager knew that Megumi was trying to self soothe.

“Yeah, I’ll get you a glass.” Satoru said as he got up off of the couch and poured Megumi a glass of milk. The small child took it with two hands and took a drink of it. Satoru observed him for a moment, noting how Megumi seemed to he malingering when he’d usually run off by now. He finished his glass of milk and stood there for a moment, looking back towards his room with unease in his eyes.

Satoru was smart enough to know that Megumi needed help going back to sleep, but if Satoru tried to outright coddle him, Megumi would adamantly refuse.

“Hey, it’s a good thing you’re awake, kiddo.” Satoru says as he goes and sits back down on the couch. He pats the spot next to him, and small Megumi crawled up onto the couch next to him.

“Why?” Megumi asked curiously.

“Well, I need your help.” Satoru said as he grabbed a worksheet from his stack of homework. “I’m stumped. Can I read you this problem?”

“Yeah.. I guess so..”

So, Satoru read to Megumi as he slowly wrapped his arm around the small child. He was careful when he started to rub Megumi’s unruly hair to soothe the small kid.

Megumi’s eyes went all droopy as for the first time in his life he felt safe and secure. He was with in the care of the strongest sorcerer, his dad.

Satoru let out a small huff of amusement as Megumi’s head rested against his arm, and he sat the worksheet down. Not wanting to disturb the small child, he got comfortable on the couch, and the two slept peacefully.

Neither of their dreams were plagued with nightmares.

Megumi had saved Satoru just as much as Satoru had saved him.

[gladiatorcunt]

- # ROMANS 8:7 !!

“because the mind of the flesh is hostile to god: it does not submit to god’s law, nor can it do so.”

cw: implied plus size & southern afab!reader, xmen 1 coded logan but also different, large age gap (reader early 20’s, logan…. not), implied mental health & abandoment issues, drug & alchohol mentions, consensual somno (not discussed but logan’d be down with whatever you wanted), dad/father figure bf behavior and talk (kiddo, controlling your sleep schedule, heavy daddy kink & calling him your old man, calls fucking you “feeding you” etc.), heavy werewolf/animals in general allusions & imagery (?), reader is lowkey unhinged, reader doing some solo a/b/o roleplay lol, kind of self objectification/degradation vibes due to underlying trauma, gentle dead dove like if the dove perched on a bitter old man’s dirt covered shoulder and wouldn’t leave, more of a moment in time

1k event. / please consider commissioning me!

Stubble against your lips is a damn fine way to wake up in the morning, you think with a dazed smile. The scent of the beard shampoo you have Logan use smells better than a whole poppy field ever could. There are lingering traces of cigar smoke hovering over his slightly chapped lips, but not as heavy anymore, he’s trying to quit relying on them so much. A gruff sentiment about wanting to make sure he has a better chance of sticking around to keep an eye on you, or something like that.

You were falling asleep on his sweaty abs when he said it like he was getting his teeth pulled out, but there’s merit in the fact that he could’ve cut himself off. It’s important to him to try to be better at verbalizing the feeling burning in his battered gut like a glass of whiskey on the rocks. You’d take him with open arms and open legs even if he was a worse man than the devil.

You reach down and lift his hefty hands to your still swollen lips and kiss his knuckles like you’re trying to suck his claws out of his skin and into your mouth. A painless operation, you’re used to the feeling of blades against your skin, housing them in your stomach would mean nothing if it meant you could take some of the hurt away from him. It feels like that’s your job sometimes, to jump through as many hoops as possible so that you bear the brunt of the weight Logan’s forced to deal with on a daily basis.

He stops that train of thought in its tracks when you express it, what kind of dad would he be if he let you get even a single scratch? Maybe there’s to be said for a rough and tough kind of guy getting to nurse a kitten back to health, to keep it tucked away in the crook of their muscular arm never to see the light of day without them.

You don’t offer to keep his claws sheathed safely in your pussy either, you’d lick your own blood off the ends when they eventually push through your mouth. A cock sleeve in a different outfit, daddy’s little helper. But then you see the way Logan’s face belies a sense of peace, his forehead wrinkles and the fine lines around his mouth aren’t nearly so pronounced because this is the rare moment in which he finds no reason to scowl. You know you’re worth more than a nyquil infused pussy to him, but this is where you find your use. This is how you feel content, gummy walls suckling on his fat tip because even when you’ve put your old man to bed you can’t get enough.

Logan thinks he’s just so awful, the big bad wolf slobbering on an innocent lamb’s cherry pie-sweet cunt, but you might be worse. You’d your feet and throw a fit if his nose even twitched catching the scent of someone else, you’d do far worse things than what he’s already done to keep this toe curlingly grumpy man snoring a crater into your silk pillows. You feel like a rabid chihuahua nipping at his heels to keep him inside and with you, where it’s warm and wet and there’s no death other than the little ones you experience over and over like a perverted groundhog day. He’s the only one you trust with you doing you prone bone, having faith that he’ll shield you from all the things in the world that aren’t Daddy and the cozy sticky life he provides for you.

Calloused fingers strangling your tits in the morning, your ass bent over his lap in the evening while he sits back in his recliner and soothes the sting. You’d been sick to your stomach before you met him, wandering up and down the road in New York because you insisted you could make this big move and do it all on your own. Then his denim blue pick up rumbled its way down the broken road and you’ve never looked back since.

Your heart was beating faster than a hummingbird when he rolled his eyes and pushed the passenger side door open with one hand, like you were lucky he didn’t drive off and leave you in the dirt. You had the stray thought of offering him a blow job or a tit fuck to make it worth his while, but he was squirming around to tug off his brown leather jacket and toss it at you before you could move a muscle.

Poor little kitty, last one in the box all alone in the cold. Someone wanted you though, and over time your hisses and scratches turned to cat-that-got-the-cream-AND-the-canary wails and voracious frisking.

He ‘tsks’ and bites his cheek on the days where the guilt creeps in, and you know he just can't accept that this is what you want. That you saw his maw open wide and dripping with blood-cum-tissue-bone-spittle and hopped right on the center of his dusty rose pink tongue like a good bunny.

In your daydreams the appendage is so long he can choke you with the tip of it, wrap it around you and get his unique slime and grime absorbed into the hollow of your throat. You wish he had a knot too, so he could plug you up and you’d have no choice but to take it and be so grateful that Daddy thought you were worthy of being bred and speared and kept.

God, you’d never wanted to have somebody’s baby so much. But you’re selfish too, so you don’t mind this time spent together, just the two of you. That’s a blessing in and of itself and you’ve learned not to question the rare good things in life that you’re allowed to have. The powers that be decided he’s yours and you’re his and you’ll tie your leash to his hand if that ensures he can never change his mind about taking a chance on you. If he can’t run like you tried to do when you realized he might actually love you back, that he wasn’t content to just be a dirty fantasy you had when you were alone on your trailer bed. That for the first time in your life, what you need needs you too, or wants to entertain you at the very least.

You don’t want to run anymore, and all of the credit goes to Logan recognizing that you were just a stray cat who needed someone that wouldn’t let them dart out the door at the first sign of discomfort. He forced you to be known so you could be loved and there’s no going back to a life without that, not for you. Not without being to hold Daddy’s hand when that same feeling of flight or flight knocks on your skull. Maybe you’re spiraling again because you feel empty, you said no to cockwarming the previous night because you didn’t want to be too needy. You think your pussy might’ve bitten his dick off to keep inside of it like a trophy if you followed your usual routine.

Now you’re realizing why you hardly ever say no to giving your pussy time to breathe. How can you feel whole if Daddy’s not sighing in relief when he slides home for the first time again? You remember that you're your own person like this and you hate it, you don’t belong to you, you belong to him.

So you bite your lip and slowly bring yourself up to straddle his torso, humping his abs for a second before reaching behind you and lining up your aching cunt with his already half hard prick. You get overwhelmed already, so excited and antsy and ready to greet Daddy at the door that you bounce without actually bringing your plush hips all the way down.

‘Want that knot, want it want it want it want it, fuck fuck FUCK!’

You cry when the bulbous and thick fucking tip eases into you followed by the rest of him, you can’t help it. You missed him so much, and you’re not only thinking about Logan when you say that. Trust Daddy to actually have a horse’s cock most men overcompensate for not having, long and girthy and an angry purplish-red and surrounded by a black bush and more than deserving of never being left alone for a single second.

He woke up as soon as you started grinding against him in your sleep, but he knows you’d get embarrassed if he let it slip now. Logan could open his brown eyes and say ‘I told you so, kiddo’ but he can do that after his hardening cock pushes into your cervix. A welcome home kiss for his fussy little thing, he doesn’t feel right until he cracks his eyelids halfway and peeks through to see your own roll back in otherworldly rapture.

“That’s it, right where it belongs, ain’t it doll?”

Yes, yes it is.

“Fuckin’ cum on it and then get y’r ass back to bed, y’r gonna get cranky if you stay up any later. Gotta keep you fed, get some cock in that belly, keep you fat.”

- 2024, do not copy/translate/train ai with my work

[papaya-queen]

Papaya Princess – Y/N x Grid dad!Landoscar

When Oscar and Lando adopt the new McLaren development driver.

Oscar and Lando are already together at the beginning. Y/N is 16 years old.

<3

McLaren

McLaren welcome to the family Y/N Y/L/N. She will join F1Academy with PREMA racing as a McLaren development driver. You can also find her in the Italian F4 championship with the same team.

Comments:

User McLaren must have a special requirement in their contract because how are all their drivers so cute?!

Oscarpiastri AUSSIE, AUSSIE, AUSSIE

               User he’s so happy to have some Australian support with him

               Yourusername I mean, we must fight back the colonizers (@landonorris 👀)

User MORE GIRLS IN MOTORSPORTS!!

Landonorris welcome to fam kiddo

User wait she looks familiar…

               User I’m not alone!

<3

<3

Yourusername

Yourusername First F1Academy weekend – good results for the team. I still need to adapt to the car. Looking forward to the next weekend in Imola for F4. PS: thanks to those two weird guys who supported me during the races.

Comments:

User no way they really came to see her

               User Yeah, they definitely weren’t here for her

               User she just wants the attention that comes with them

Prema_team good weekend little tigress 🐯

McLaren 🧡

Dion.gowda see you next week! :)

<3

<3

Yourusername

Yourusername AMAZING weekend in Imola, podium in 2 races and a rookie win! I had so much fun! Thanks team and thanks boys for the support, celebrations and fun we had (but not thank you for all the champagne in my hair 😭)!

Comments:

Tomass_stolcermanis amazing weekend for you! Next time let us win a little…

Oscarpiastri So proud of you! <3

               Yourusername thank youuuu

Landonorris if any of those boys annoys you, tell me and it will end.

               Yourusername please don’t kill my friends

User not Lando playing the protective dad 😭

Alexpowellracing I don’t feel safe anymore in this comment section 😭

               Dion.gowda same

               Kean.nakamura.berta same

               User Lando really scared the f4 boys 😭

<3

Oscarpiastri

Oscarpiastri had a great time in Imola with the family, thanks little bean for the amazing show we saw

Comments:

User well that’s a way to launch your adoption

               User what do you mean launch, everyone knew for weeks now

User landoscar on the main!!!!!

Landonorris thanks love 🧡

               User they’re too cute

Yourusername thanks dad <3

               User the McLaren fam is so sweet

<3

<3

Yourusername

Yourusername Happy Father’s Day to my amazing grid dads. Thank you for guiding me in the world of motorsport, for the support this year and the great time that we have together!

Comments:

User I’m tearing up, they’re so cute

Landonorris thanks you princess you’re the best grid daughter ever

Oscarpiastri 🧡

Alexpowellracing guess I’m gonna cry in the corner without a grid dad 😭

               Logansargeant American boys alliance?

Charles_leclerc does that make me a grandad?

               Yourusername yes grampa

               User Charles Leclerc, grampa at 26

Dion.gowda it’s not fair, why does she have 2 grid dad when I have 0 😭

               Yourusername stop being jealous of my amazing family

<3

Oscarpiastri & Landonorris

Oscarpiastri didn’t expect a Father’s Day gift at 23 but life, you know

Comments are restricted

Yourusername 🧡🧡

<3

Yourusername

Yourusername The end of a chapter. Finishing P2 in the rookie competition, P5 in general, I couldn’t dream of more. Thanks Prema and McLaren for giving me this amazing chance. Thanks, dads, for the support during the season. Thank you, boys, for creating some core memory with me during the year. We had the time of our life!

Comments:

User that’s our girl!!

Landonorris love you little champion 🧡

Oscarpiastri aiming for P1 next year?

               Yourusername of course ;)

Prema_team that’s our tigress

User she’s so talented it’s amazing

Alexpowellracing amazing season with you, hoping we’re still in the same championship next year :)

               Landonorris calm down little boy

Kean.nakamura.berta the only person I let win

               Yourusername I was ahead of you 99% of the time

               Kean.nakamura.berta that’s still 1% where I’d let you pass

<3

<3

private.Y/N

private.Y/N Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me ♥️

Comments:

private.alex 🧡🧡

private.oscar aww young love

private.lando okay yeah I understand (alex if you do anything wrong...)

private.dion stop reminding me that i'm single 😭😭

private.kean wait Alex's not dead ?

               private.tomass he somehow survived lando

               private.alex that's because of my amazing charm

               private.y/n i love you alex but no i just battled for him

[pregulator]

imagine a dad with a tboy son who has always helped him feel better when he's had periods by letting him rest under a heat pad and freshly dryer-fluffed blankets, brewing hot tea and cocoa for him, bringing him midol and tylenol when he needs it, and taking the time to make him feel affirmed even when the menstruation dysphoria kicks in...

and when he gets older, his sex-positive dad starts encouraging him to consider masturbating, whether he's on his period or not, telling him, "you know, it improves your pelvic health, orgasms are very good for your heart health, it can help you fall asleep, it can provide stress relief," and going on and on about the objective health benefits and how it can put his son in touch with his developing teen body... and, for a while, his son always reacts with embarrassment, saying, "ew! augh, dad, no! that's so gross! yuck, no way!" and his dad drops the topic, for the most part, only bringing it up again on occasion, when it's germane to conversations about sexual health...

and, one day, while picking up a few boxes of tampons at the local walmart, dad takes his son on a little detour through the pharmacy aisles and shows him a selection of vibrating dildos... and his son goes red in the face and won't stop looking around, up and down the aisle, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and holding it to keep his face hidden from other shoppers while his dad keeps telling him, in such a matter-of-fact tone, "actually, penetrative masturbation with toys like these is excellent for soothing menstrual cramps," all while his son keeps whispering for his dad to put each toy back as he grabs them off the display hooks to look at the product details on the back sides of the packaging... and, despite his son's protesting and embarrassment, dad puts a small bullet vibrator and a modest six-inch vibrating dildo toy into the shopping basket before walking to the express checkout lane, telling his son he's getting them "just in case you ever want to use them..."

and then dad starts letting himself out of the house a little more often, hoping to give his son at least a couple hours of alone time every once in a while so that he can give it an earnest try, especially since having stored the vibrators in the bathroom, where they're just as innocuous and easy-to-find as the hairbrushes or the toothpaste... and his son does give it a try, sometimes using the bullet vibrator on himself before taking a shower, only to frantically clean and dry it before putting it back, perfectly in its place... until, one day, he takes it to his bedroom and uses it to bring himself to his first real orgasm, which quickly puts him to sleep...

and then his dad comes home that afternoon, while his son is still sleeping through his post-orgasm nap... and he goes to the bathroom, curiously checking the drawer to find the little vibrator missing, immediately pleased to know that his son is finally experimenting... and he doesn't do anything or say anything, not wanting to scare his son into retreating and repressing his needs and desires...

and then one day, the forgetful sometimes-presence of the little vibrator in the drawer under the bathroom counter after son's masturbation sessions morphs into a clearly conscious choice to keep it in his room, in the drawer of his bedside nightstand... and dad starts thinking that maybe his son isn't interested in the six inch vibrating dildo, putting it aside somewhere safe to keep it from gathering any dust in the drawer...

and then, during a period, sometime later on, as the months pass, dad looks up from working from home at his laptop while sitting on the couch and notices his son is standing at the doorway of the den with a nervous look on his flushed-red face... and dad asks his son, "kiddo, what's the matter? are you feeling sick?" to which his son replies, asking, "dad, do you know where the, uh, the... the longer vibrator is?" reluctantly and quietly... and dad sets his work aside, telling him, "of course," and then, speculatively, "are you having some bad period cramps?" with his son nodding slowly in response... so dad fetches the vibrating dildo for him and offers to show him how to use it, but his son is far too embarrassed, already, and shuts his bedroom door before his daddy can ask again...

and then his son finally starts hormone replacement therapy, spreading t-gel on his arms once a week... (dad had offered to help him with shots, since needles had always intimidated him, but he wants to do it himself)... and, as son's changes begin to develop, dad notices he spends a lot more time to himself in his room... and that's when dad starts checking in on his son, knocking on his closed bedroom door a few times before opening it, always accidentally walking in on him in the middle of masturbating, always backing out and closing the door when his son yells, "augh, dad! don't come in here! leave me alone! i just want to be by myself right now!" while the telltale hum of a muffled vibrator is going off against his pussy from under the covers...

and then, one day, dad is working at the kitchen table when his son comes in and sits down with a snack, slowly eating it like he's simply killing time while he watches his dad dutifully type away on the keyboard of his laptop and read over a packet of papers... and, when his dad realizes his son has lingered there long after he's finished snacking, he looks up from his work and asks, "what's up, kiddo?" only for his son to go red in the face and clear his throat a little, trying to act natural... and then his son says, "the... uh... big vibrator stopped working," furiously blushing, at this point... and then his dad says, "oh no... sorry to hear that, bud... maybe i can pick one up the next time i go out, does that sound like a plan?" but, despite the prompt and casual response, his son still looks uncomfortable... and then his son asks, "could... you... help me a little... sooner than that?" to which his dad says, "well, sure, kiddo, but it might have to wait until i'm finished with work for today, is that alright?"

but his son still looks a little uneasy, shifting in the dining room chair, pressing his legs together under the table, then asking, "okay, dad, but... i was... kind of thinking... that maybe you could, uh, show me... something a little more... advanced? or, you know... hands-on?" while looking away from his dad, his eyes darting back and forth between making eye-contact... and his dad seems to think about it, catching his meaning... or, rather, assuming it... replying, to confirm, "you mean... you want to try intercourse?" and, after a long silence, his son, still clearly more embarrassed than he's ever been in his life, slowly nods to answer his dad, looking down at the table and occasionally glancing back up...

and dad takes the time to consider it, despite already knowing his answer... which surprises his son, though not all that much, when he says, "sure, but i'll need you to give me five minutes to wrap up before taking a break... think you can go to your room and get ready for me like you usually get ready on yourself?" and he says it as if it's the most normal thing in the world to be saying, agreeing to a proposition with his trans teen son, but his son hastily nods and gets up from the table, walking to his room, fast, and leaving the door open ajar as he pushes it behind him...

and then dad, true to his word, takes a few minutes to finish his work before shutting the lid of his laptop and getting up to head toward his son's bedroom, slowly pushing the door back open as he enters the threshold, looking down at his son lying down over the covers, his shorts and boxers kicked off and onto the floor, socks still covering his feet, still wearing a t-shirt and hoodie over his torso, his legs pressed together and bent to hide himself, anxiously waiting for his dad... and his dad smiles warmly at him, undoing the fastening on his chinos as he starts to undress, sitting down on the bed next to his son's hot, half-naked body...

and he slowly reaches up to part his son's knees from the side, telling him to "just relax, honey," running his hand up and down the inside of his son's thighs to coax them apart, dipping down into the valley of his legs to gently stroke his son's growing t-dick amidst the lush bush he's grown atop his pubic mound... and dad tells him how good he looks, remarking "oh, look how much hair you've grown down here... and your cock is already getting kind of big."

and dad keeps an eye on his son, who has one hand at his forehead, gripping at his hair, while the other is resting against one side of his chest, groping at himself through the thick fabric of his hoodie... and dad tells him, "feeling okay, kiddo? want to take that sweatshirt off? you're looking a little over-heated," and helps his son sit up in bed to disrobe, the sweatshirt being discarded off the side of the bed, son not even waiting before casting his t-shirt aside, too, totally nude aside from his socks... but dad doesn't need those out of the way, so they can stay on... and, soon, dad returns to rubbing the outside of his son's front hole, venturing to dip a finger inside, which makes his son finally moan nice and long... and dad asks, "does that feel good, bud?" to which his son can hardly respond in words, slowly nodding his head while his eyes drift shut, his breathing growing heavy...

and dad keeps going, gently fingering his son, fingers now slowly pushing in and out, getting him used to the intrusion and the rhythm... after all, even if he had used a dildo many times before, by now, it wasn't as though his hot teen cunt wasn't still young and tight, still getting used to penetration...

and, as dad continues stimulating him, he comments on how wet he is... how engorged his t-dick is... saying, "you've gotten so wet for me, huh? and your cock is even getting hard," to which his son can only moan and whine things like "mm... dad..." and "oh... fuck... dad," between panting breaths... and dad keeps going, his own dick stiffening and tenting in his boxer briefs... until his son's hands find their way to dad's forearm, squeezing it a little... and dad asks, "want to stop, baby?" and his son shakes his head against, looking up at his dad to say, "no... keep going... i... i need you."

and dad, wanting more, asks, "need me how, bud?" and his son bites his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth before answering, "i... need you inside me..." and his dad's brows raise, dad looking surprised but pleased... and dad asks, to be certain, "you want my cock inside you, kiddo?" and his son nods his head eagerly, his inhibitions lost now as dad gets up from the bed and sheds his underwear, getting back onto the mattress and positioning himself between his son's legs which, right now, are spread open, almost impatiently, as he stares down at his dad's crotch, at the long dick that bounces gently over his thick, swollen balls... and his jaw falls a little, as if the head had hypnotized him...

and his dad chuckles a little, watching his son's lust-addled expression as he grabs hold of his own cock and strokes it, the meatus leaking precum which dribbles down over his dad's knuckles on each downstroke, down onto the cover of his duvet... and then dad lightly pets the insides of his son's thighs again, lowering himself until the head of his cock meets the foreskin-covered head of his son's cock, rubbing himself up and down his slit...

and dad looks at his son's face as his son stares back at him, mouth still hanging open, as he aligns himself with his son's front hole and starts opening him up with his uncovered shaft... and dad's dick feels like it's stuffing him tight... centimeter by centimeter, filling him up full...

and son's hands go to his chest, kneading and squeezing and tugging on himself, breathing hitching as dad bottoms out inside of his cunt... and then dad begins pulling his cock out... slowly... letting his son feel himself empty before easily slipping back in, taking his son's moans as encouragement as he sheaths himself again, fully inside his son's hot cock sleeve of a channel... wet and hot and clenching...

and dad goes slow, at first, like when he's given his son back scratches or shoulder rubs before... and dad cups his son's hip with one hand as he leans forward on the other hand, which is flat against the covers of his boy's bed, the motion of his hips picking up speed the longer he goes, in and out, fucking him... dad is fucking him... and his son moans, loudly, "ohh, fuck, dad!"

and dad can feel his boy's cunt squeezing him, drawing him in, wanting to lock him there each time he thrusts inside, saying, "good job, baby boy... you like taking daddy's cock inside you? okay, kiddo... just relax... just enjoy..." as he thrusts...

and when his bare cock feels his son chasing his own orgasm, he picks up the pace, driving himself harder and faster into his boy's cunt, listening as his moans devolve quickly into unintelligible vocalizations...

and then, suddenly, his son tightens around his cock, the walls of his soaking wet channel spasming around him... and dad can't hold back...

and dad announces, "good boy, you want my cum? baby, do you want my cum inside you, too?" to which his son frantically nods, and dad can feel him grip his cock even harder at that...

always quick to please, he thrusts deep and fast as his son is letting himself be lost in the throes of a hard orgasm, the moans and exclamations tumbling out of his mouth each time he almost ruts against his baby boy's cervix, going, "god! fuck, dad, fuck me! oh god, fuck me! fuck me! fuck me! aah, dad!"

and his dad, determined, lets his hips snap against his son's groin with each thrust inside of him, letting his own orgasm erupt with a grunt, his semen shooting against his son's hot insides, his thrusts fast and pistoning out of time before he simply stops, dad's legs relaxing in the furrow of his son's...

and his son feels the innermost part of himself bathed in his dad's cum... and he shudders, his body trembling already in post-coital bliss...

"oh, dad," he moans, "can we... can we do that again?"

archived on ao3

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l ten

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

DP x DC AU

Danny's gonna adopt all the Halfas in Gotham whether he wants to or not, and it's gonna start with the little dead girl he found after crawling out of that portal in the league base.

Pt 2 here. My Au Art

...........................

There's a dead little girl sitting on the rug in front of Danny's coffee table curiously eating Cheetos.

Well, she's not all the way dead, only half, could even be a little less then that, Danny would know he's sort of the leading expert on being half dead.

Her skins blue, like comic book mystique blue, vibrant and impossible to miss. Shes got these big black eyes and a nasty split going straight through her upper lip to just under her right eye.

She's also missing her nose, it's just gone, no cartilage left over just the gaping nasal cavity like skulls have.

The little girl looks dead, she is dead, or she's at least as dead as Danny is which is almost exclusively in name only.

Her name is Curaré, Danny only knows it because it's been branded into the skin of the little girls neck, just under the curve of her bald skull.

Curaré is terribly thin, the little toddler sized T-shirt she has on hangs loose around her torso where baby fat should fill it out.

She's horrible to look at, a tiny nightmare, her corpse like coloring doing nothing to mitigate the appearance.

Curaré was neither a healthy nor normal little girl, there was no way Danny could have left that league facility without her.

Oh and she almost exclusively spoke in Spanish which made finding her dinner hard.

Not that Cheetos are really dinner, little kids need to eat more then that Danny was pretty sure, like 89% sure. Although they did have a lot of calories...

Danny tilts his head absently as he looks at her, the little demon being illuminated red and green by the glow of the TV. She's enraptured by the Scooby doo rerun Gotham's only spanish language channel is playing tonight.

As if she can feel his eyes she turns to him and tilts her head the same way.

Danny blinks at her, Curaré blinks back.

" Uh- " Danny starts, trying to remember anything from his Spanish elective from sophomore year. God, his teacher had been right he had needed to study more. " The Cheetos, you like them? They're uh...bueno? Oh! Son Buenos?"

He points his finger down at the snack sized bag in her grasp, her fingers are tiny , they must be so fragile, looking at the desperate grasp they have on the bag makes Danny's chest hurt. How could anyone be so small? Had Danny ever been that small?

Curaré blinks again, long and slow, processing Danny's words. She looks down at her Cheetos and back up at Danny then she carefully holds the bag out to him.

" Oh no that's ok they're for you kiddo" Danny insists.

Curaré shakes the bag at him, like enticing a stray cat with treats but he only shakes his head again.

She gives up after that, shrugging and turning back to her cartoons.

Inside her chest Danny can feel her ghost core vibrate placidly as Scooby and Shaggy run across the TV in a panic.

Danny's own core can't help but try to match it's frequency, a low contented humming echoes between them, safe it seems to say.

Curaré can't be older then 4, which means she was resurrected young and that she died even younger. Danny doesn't know how any of it happened, halfas aren't created easily, the amount of energy needed...

She's so small.

He hopes it was fast, whatever it was that did this to her, made her like him.

Danny also hopes that her injuries aren't permanent. Some ghosts keep the carnage of their corpses well into the after life but as a Halfa Curaré should heal, even if she got those injuries during her ressurction. For her sake it'll be much easier to find some sense of normalcy if she isn't always actively bleeding, even if the blood itself is just an ecto-echo of real blood.

Danny curls his knees up to his chest and hides his face for a moment just trying to breathe. He's too young to be taking care of a toddler, he's still six months away from turning 18 and hes got school on Monday. His eyes burn and his throat constricts as he tries to swallow.

No one else but Danny would know how to take care of Curaré, and she's got no family to try and stumble their way through it. Danny can't take her back to the league and he sure as hell isn't going to search for whoever put that brand on her neck.

Even if he dropped her off at the fire station Gotham only has one Meta focused orphanage, it's state run and all the kids in it have to wear little prison style jump suits. And the food sucks, Danny can personally vouch for that.

She doesn't have a home, she's just as out of place here in Gotham as Danny is. Danny really wishes, not for the first time, that he had an adult here. Like Jazz or hell even Mr. Fuckin Lancer.

Just anyone. Anyone who could tell Danny what to do about this. Who could help him out with the child he's suddenly acquired.

He wishes anyone else was here so it wouldn't just be him and Curaré. Two dead kids sitting on the floor of a studio apartment in the Bowery watching cartoons.

What a pair the two of them will make, oh God. Danny laughs as a few tears stain his jeans.

Curaré makes a curious little noise that has Danny forcing his head up. She's reached the inevitable end of her snack sized bag and she looks absolutely devastated. She turns to look at him, tilting the empty bag towards him as if to say ' can you believe this shit!'

Danny can't help but give her a watery smile, no more crying Fenton, and wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

" Okay, one thing at a time." Danny tells himself. " You finished your Cheetos and now it's time for dinner, right? Stop me if I'm wrong."

Curaré just looks at him.

Danny's not worried, they're gonna have all the time in the world to teach her to appreciate humour and also English.

" I'm going to take that as a yes. " Danny hops up off the floor and goes to find his phone, nobody does dinner like the local Batburger.

Little foot steps follow him into the hallway, he'll have to get used to that sound he's going to be hearing it a lot.

Food first, everything would be better after they ate.

...............

For BG I imagine he's been living in Gotham for a few months and found Curaré while popping in and out of different portals in Gotham. (Who woulda guessed that some portal in Gotham leads right to the lazarus pit)

Note: if u wanna see cool art for this AU it's all in the Danny and the little dead girl au tag on my pg!

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Hiii, loved to see that you a writing for arcane again. Tbh I just loved Isha and Jinx, so could could you make headcanons for how Jinx, Vi and Cait would be like taking care of or rising a kid with a girlfriend or s/o?

Sure I can! I don’t want he post to be huge though so I’ll break it up into three separate ones! Enjoy!

Family Bound

Raising or looking after a kid was not easy by any means, but taking care of one with Jinx was even harder

Jinx does not know how to be a paternal figure, or an older sibling kind of figure

She has really bad experiences with the only ones she’s ever known, so how was she supposed to fix that with some kid she’s not even related to?

But, for your sake, I feel like jinx loves you enough to try

If the kid was your sibling, I feel like she would be more reserved and distant from the child

In some way you and your little sibling remind her of herself and Vi when they were young and it’s not a good thing

She’s only able to take care of the kid once she separated those two things and finally able to bond with the kid

It takes a lot of time and patience from you for Jinx to be able to bond with the kid

If y’all found the kiddo, I feel like it would be easier for her to take care of it more than it being your sibling

When she does come around, Jinx can be very protective of the kid

She’s more the parent that doesn’t discipline and lets the kid get away with stuff, which causes some behavioral issues and arguments between you two cause that’s not really a good thing

So she has to learn from you how to take care of the child

She teaches the kid lots of things like how to invent gadgets, to make sure they work, how to protect yourself, and lots of other things like that

On more positive notes:

You’re the main bridge between the two so when they’re left alone together, they have no clue what to do or how to bond

But you do find little bits and pieces of a genuine bond forming between the two

You see the little smile Jinx wears when she finds genuine joy in taking care of them

She wonders how anyone could abandon their child or harm them when the one she takes care of with you is so beautifully innocent and childlike

In a way the kid heals the inner child and the Powder still inside of Jinx

She takes care of them in the way she wished Silco or Vi was

And she understands them in a way not even you can, especially if they show signs that Powder and Jinx did when she was young

She likes goofing off with the kid, and she likes playing around with them

You’ve found them roughhousing and giggling more times than you could count

and you’ve found them testing out bombs, which only happens when it’s in a safe place and a safe distance away

Jinx would never intentionally harm your guys’ child

She loves them so much that sometimes it’s scary to see how attached she has become

She doesn’t know what she would do if anything happened to you or the kid

She doesn’t ever wanna scare them, which has only happpened once

Jinx was having a freak out after everything has happened, probably after Vi was found to be an enforcer or after their fight

She was going through it, yelling, breaking things and crying and screaming

She didn’t notice how scared your guys’ child was until they started crying

Jinx felt her heart break, and even if she was ashamed of doing it, she ran out

She didn’t know how to handle the gaf she scare them so much

She was gone for a while and when she came back she was visibly distant

It took a lot of patience and reassurance for her to come back around the kid without being hesitant about every move

But the kid loved her, and when she saw your child was more sad about the fact she was gone, it broke her heart and almost healed it at the same time

She doesn’t know what she would do if they feared her badly

She loves coloring with the little girl or boy, and she likes helping them figure out outfits

She likes running around the lanes with them, or going to the old hideout

The two also love messing with Sevika as the woman has now joined your little mini family

Jinx and the kid often pass out together, both on the ground or wherever and limbs tangled and snoring with drool on the corners of their lips

Which means you have to carry both to bed a lot of the time

Jinx loves. Showing he kid to invent, and how to fight and everything

She loves seeing the sparkle in the kids eye when she shows them fireworks and anything Jinx

She and the kid have a bond you don’t know how to describe

She also doesn’t try to keep the fact of who she is and the things she’s done a secret from the child

Sometimes she can be harsh, but it’s from a space of love even if the kid gets hurt feelings

She always makes up for it though

[anxiousnerdwritings]

if obscurial!aunt!reader ended up teaching at Hogwarts for like muggle studies or something you know all the Slytherin kids with parental issues end up subconsciously calling her “mother” at least twice by the end of the year.

Theodore Nott is the only one who knows who owns it and call her “moms” regularly which infuriates Harry but eventually there’s a whole Euphemia/Sirius dynamic going on cause Theo lost his mom when he was super young and his dad is a pureblood twat so she begins to mother him pretty much and the day he turns sixteen he shows up at Spinner’s End with a suitcase

I fucking adore this ask so much, anon! You have no idea. 🥰🥰🥰🥰

I could wholeheartedly see most of the school viewing Obscurial!Muggle!Aunt!Reader as a mother figure, but especially the Slytherins. At first, it’s completely unconsciously and a slip of the tongue, but eventually it grows into something deeper for a majority of the snakes. The Reader ends up becoming their solace away from home, not that any of them want to or would ever admit it (at least not right away). And they take full advantage of it, not that any of them do it in front of others but in the moments when they have the Reader’s sole attention they bask in their warm and comforting presence.

If Yan!Bellatrix is at the school too working as a professor I could see her nudging the Slytherin kiddos towards the Reader, knowing how naturally nurturing and attentive the Reader is to anyone in general but especially with how good she is with the students. Just Bellatrix subtly encouraging them to seek out and open up to the Reader when they’re in need of comfort and someone to listen to them.

I especially love the idea of Reader’s family home on Spinner’s End becoming a safe haven for whoever needs it. It was for Harry, whether he was there as a baby or when he ran away in his third year. It then became a place for the Weasley’s and Hermione when they came into the Reader’s life. And one by one the people from the Marauders Era found their way there too.

I imagine Theo being the first one out of the Slytherins to show up at the Reader’s door, even being the one to stay there the longest, but eventually a number of others pop up too. Especially with the war nearing closer and closer. Hell, I could even see some selective parents showing up with their child to seek sanctuary at the Reader’s house too. You can bet Narcissa is pulling up with Draco, before and or after the war. Without Lucius. Mrs, Zabini and Blaise are rolling up too.

I just can’t help but imagine all these terrified Slytherins when the war starts rearing its ugly head and them not knowing what to do, only for Bellatrix to put the idea in their head to run away to the Reader. (I love the idea of her being a spy for the Order due to her obsession for the Reader, similar to how Snape was, and in the process helping some of the kids get out of becoming Death Eaters.)

Even after the war is over and things are semi back to normal, the kids (and some adults) who came to the Reader end up sticking around, basically being adopted by the Reader and becoming this big ass happy family.